Suppressed Memories
Part 1


Jarod stared in through the window in a state of shock, listening to the sounds of the violence that were occurring inside the room. He knew she'd been lonely after Thomas' murder but had never imagined that she would tolerate something like that. He winced as he saw her head slam into the corner of a table and her body sink to the floor. The male figure, breathing heavily, watched her for several sconds before swearing under his breath and slamming the door as he left the room.

Jarod waited several moments longer until he was sure the man wasn't coming back and then slipped in through the window. Moving over to her, he saw that she winced as he touched her and he murmured softly in her ear while he examined her, his mind checking her physically while his heart tried to understand what she was going through.

After several minutes he picked her up and gently laid her down on the sofa. She looked up at him candidly; eyes large in her pale face and her hair flowing down the cushion.

"Who are you?"

Jarod gave her his name, a pang in his heart that one knock on her head could have removed the memory of everything they had been through together, even as he wiped the stream of blood from her temple where she had made contact with the piece of furniture. She blinked several times, her face calmly turned up to his, but then she heard the muttering from overhead as the other occupant of the house spoke in an alcohol induced sleep.

"He's there? I need to get away! He'll beat me again. He always does that to me all the time. Please, let me get away. I've got to get away!"

Although the words were whispered, they were as powerful as if she had yelled them, as she had so often yelled his name when she was chasing him. He drew back and watched warily as she stood up. Her legs trembled a little, but she managed to move away from the sofa. Going towards the door, she leaned against the wall for support, her eyes tightly closed. He moved over to stand in front of her, afraid that she might fall. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Remember yesterday, when I kissed you?" A little girl's voice spoke from the mouth of a grown woman and the combination was both surprising and terrifying.

"It wasn't yesterday, Parker." Jarod spoke softly, a look of concern in his eyes. "It was many years ago."

She frowned. "No, I know it was yesterday. My Daddy got angry with me because I came to see you. He beat me."

Jarod took a step back, his eyes widening. "He beat you?"

"Yes, he does it a lot, especially since Momma died. Oh, Momma." The tears that the adult would never shed ran down her cheeks as she slid slowly down the wall to the floor and began to sob softly and piteously. "Momma, Momma, don't leave me. Come back to me. Momma."

Jarod picked her up in his arms and, sitting down on the sofa, rocked her, while he held her close. He knew that it was a risk to stay, but he couldn't leave her there, to be beaten again. As he sat there, Jarod made a snap decision, but continued to rock the woman until he saw that she was asleep. Moving smoothly, he opened the front door and carried her outside. When he placed her down on the passenger seat of his car, he saw her tremble, but a few murmured words as he put a gentle hand on her hair quickly calmed her. He went around to the driver's seat and had just started the engine when he heard a roar from inside and the sound of footsteps almost falling down the stairs. Jarod floored the accelerator and burned his way out of the driveway.

* * * *

Miss Parker woke to find herself lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. For several minutes she glanced around and then struggled to sit up but the pain that flashed through her head turned everything red and she sank back against the pillow with a muffled groan. Soft though it had been, it was enough to alert Jarod to the fact that she was awake and he came and stood in the doorway.

"Where are we?"

Jarod's heart sank when he realized that the sleep he had hoped would bring back the old Parker had failed to do so. "We're in the place that I live."

"But you live in the Centre."

"Not any more."

Miss Parker considered this for a minute. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I had to." Jarod came and crouched beside the bed. "I was unhappy."

"Oh." Miss Parker considered this. "Did my Daddy make you unhappy? 'Cos he makes me unhappy when he hits me." Suddenly, fear dawning in her eyes, she covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, no. Daddy said I wasn't to tell anyone about that, or I'd be in trouble. Don't tell him."

"Don't worry." Jarod smoothed the hair back from her face as the tears of terror filled her eyes. "I won't."

She clutched his hand. "Promise?"

"I promise," he soothed. "Now you need to sleep."

"You won't let my Daddy get me?" she murmured fearfully.

"Of course not."

Miss Parker's eyes were growing slowly opaque as sleep overtook her and her eyelids closed but then she roused up a little. "Can you sleep here, with me?"

Jarod responded by straightening up and sitting down on the bed, taking her into his arms.

"Better?"

"Mmm hmm." Her voice was soft and drowsy and even as he looked down, she was asleep, curled up in his lap. The woman living in the mind of a little girl - he wondered where it was going to lead.

* * * *

Jarod sat looking down at her sleeping body on the bed where he had placed it before sitting in a chair, uncomfortable with the fact that his mortal enemy was that close to him, although to her mind they were still the friends that they had been as children. He watched as her chest rose and fell, as the breath came out in soft gasps through her mouth. Even in her sleep she had sobbed and it had ceased only a few minutes earlier. Her dreams - no, these could only be called nightmares - seemed worse than anything that he could remember experiencing himself, as she flung herself violently around the bed, only stopping when he held her tightly to prevent her from injuring herself. But then, as violent tremors shook her body and she seemed to shrink within herself, he knew that in her dream-state she imagined that it was her father who was holding her like that, and Jarod silently cursed the man who could bring this much pain on anyone, let alone his only daughter.

He had contemplated calling Sydney, had even picked up the phone and dialed the numbers, but the moment he heard the smooth, cultured tones on the other end, he had hung up without realizing what he did. Now he picked up a box and took out a diary that lay inside it. With reverent hands, he took the key and unlocked the book, allowing it to fall open on his lap.

October 16, 1969
I sometimes wonder whether marrying him was the best thing to do. Would we both have been happier if I had left him before her first birthday? I'm sure that he hurts her, although I haven't been able to catch him at it. Oh Lord, just let me live long enough to get all of those children to somewhere safe, but if I can only rescue one, then let my daughter get as far away from the Centre and from her father as possible. I never thought I could ever even think that, let alone write it, but I mean it sincerely...

November 28, 1969
"...now you are sad, but I will see you again, and your hearts will be filled with gladness, the kind of gladness that no one can ever take away from you." (John 16:22) I know that I should be loving towards others, as the Bible says, but how can I love a man who has done this to me? My time is limited, that much was made obvious to me last night. And they will never let me go. I know too much. I can only hope that no matter what happens to my daughter, that she will be happy and find some security and love in her life. Oh Lord, help her to meet a man who will be supportive and provide her with a true family. And I pray also that the Centre will permit her that happiness. "My children, our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love, which shows itself in action." (1 John 3:18)

Jarod looked up from the diary, his eyes glistening with tears, and his glance fell on the figure of the woman on his bed. Her head swung from side to side, making the tears fall in zigzags down her cheeks as her mouth moved in soft mutterings, sometimes talking of her mother, sometimes of her father, and occasionally of himself. A sad smile appeared on his face as he heard himself spoken of, as she recalled the conversations that they had had and experiences they had shared. Then, as he watched, she lay quietly for a few minutes before her eyelids lifted.

"Hello, Jarod." The voice was the frank and naïve tones of a small girl. Again rest had failed to bring back the old Miss Parker.

"Hello, Parker."

"Why are we still here? Did my Daddy come? You didn't tell him, did you? You promised, remember. Where are we?" The artless chatter of a small girl poured out of the woman's mouth and she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before he could stop her. Then she got up and sat at his feet, looking up into his face. "Can we have breakfast? I'm really hungry."

Jarod checked his watch. "Actually, it's nearly lunchtime. You were asleep for most of the morning."

"I was? How come? Am I sick?"

"No, dear. You got a bang on your head."

"Really?" She scrunched her nose up in confusion. "I don't 'member it."

"Well, what do you want to eat?"

Miss Parker thought for a moment before a hopeful light filled the eyes that she turned up to him. "Hot dogs?"

Jarod laughed. "Okay, but they're not very good for you." Going out into the other room, he began to get them out of the fridge and to boil water.

"But you eat them." The statement was matter of fact as she followed him out of the bedroom and Jarod grinned.

"I know, but I eat lots that isn't good for me."

When Jarod brought over the plate, he placed Miss Parker in a chair, wrapped in a blanket in case, as he expected it might, the knock brought on a fever. Then he sat and ate his own lunch. At one point he felt her eyes on him. Turning to look at her face, he had an uncomfortable feeling. It was as though the old Miss Parker was looking at him through her own eyes. To hide his confusion, he spoke.

"Do you like it?"

"Mmm hmm." She took another rapturous bite.

Jarod felt only slightly more comfortable. He had never come across anything like this in any of the material he had read about regression. It was almost as if she had another personality, a young one. But that couldn't explain the fact that she continually confused the dates, jumping from the day of their first kiss to the death of her mother.

As the day wore on, Jarod allowed Miss Parker to play with all of the toys that he carried. The one she liked most was also his favorite - Mr Potato Head. The two had several hours of fun together with it as the sun slowly sank. As Jarod cooked dinner, Miss Parker watched cartoons on TV. Finally Jarod's watch beeped, attracting their attention.

"What's that mean?" the female voice asked.

"It's eight o'clock."

"Oh." After a second, she jumped up. "I have to go to bed. Momma always says that a growing girl should go to bed early. Haven't I grown since we first met?"

Jarod looked her up and down as she stood in front of him.

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "You have."

"Goodnight," she said cheerfully and walked into his bedroom.

Jarod stared at the television in front of him for a moment without seeing what happened on it. Finally he picked up the phone.

"Syd? I need your help."

* * * *

The psychiatrist stood silently in the doorway for a moment, Jarod having left the door open so that he wouldn't have to leave Miss Parker's side if she woke and the older man could see the younger one sitting in a chair and staring out of the window. Although Sydney had tried to stay calm and professional during the call, the information that Jarod had given over the phone left him wondering why he hadn't seen it coming. Abuse. It explained so much. Sydney knew that his arrival hadn't been heard and knocked softly.

"Jarod?"

The younger man jumped up from his chair. "I'm glad you could come."

"Well, you didn't make it easy to find you."

"I guess the fear of capture is always there." Jarod tried to grin but the concern he felt made that virtually impossible. He and Sydney sat down in the only two chairs in the room.

"What did...Catherine know about this?" Sydney spoke hesitantly.

Jarod picked up Catherine's diary and opened it at an entry he had marked.

October 23, 1969
"I am worn out with grief; every night my bed is damp from my weeping; my pillow is soaked with tears. I can hardly see; my eyes are so swollen from the weeping caused by my enemies." (Psalms 6:6-7) I can't understand how the man I love can treat his daughter this way. I want to go to the police but would they believe me? After all, children are always hurting themselves. And besides, I know what the Centre would do if I involved outside agencies. I wouldn't live to see my daughter grow up. But I sometimes wonder if I ever will."

Sydney looked at Jarod. "She knew then."

"Apparently."

"And she knew she was going to die," the psychiatrist murmured.

"When you work for the Centre..." Jarod's voice trailed away and he stared out blankly into the darkness. The other man was about to speak when the door behind them opened.

"Jarod?"

The younger man stood up immediately but Sydney remained seated. No matter what he had expected, it could safely be said that it wasn't this. The voice was the same as the little girl that he had befriended after the car accident that had put his brother into a coma. He turned, half-expecting to see that small girl again, and the shock of seeing a grown woman dragging a blanket behind her was almost too much for him.

"Sydney!" She ran across the room, tripped over the blanket, and hugged his legs. "When did you come? Did you bring Angelo? Is Kyle coming to visit too?"

The childish questioning was painful for Sydney, but even more painful was the reference to Kyle that almost broke through Jarod's stoicism and his face momentarily crumpled. Summoning all of his self-control, Jarod made an effort.

"What are you doing up? Do you know how late it is? You should be asleep."

Miss Parker looked at Jarod and her face was full of a small girl's mischief. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me. I just wanted you to know I was okay."

It intrigued Sydney as he listened that Parker either talked to Jarod as the friend that they had been as children, or else as a type of father figure. Equally amazing was the rapid way in which Jarod adjusted to those changes. While Jarod led the woman back to bed, Sydney sat and contemplated his options. He knew that Jarod was going to turn to him for answers - that wasn't new. He had been doing so for years. What was new was that Sydney was undecided as to the best way of treating the situation. He had absolutely no control over these circumstances. This was no SIM - this was real, and potentially very dangerous. There was no saying what damage the recollection of these memories could do to Miss Parker if she didn't find some way to deal with them. Equally, however, she couldn't simply be mentally returned to her biological age, as that could also leave mental scars that would be irreparable. She would never concede, when in her right mind, to treatment by him. But no one at the Centre would allow her to involve anyone else. They would kill her before they did anything else.

Jarod shut the bedroom door behind him with a deep sigh before walking over and sinking into the vacant chair.

"Asleep?"

As Sydney asked the question, he scanned Jarod's face with his eyes and was shocked at the change. Previously unseen lines had deepened, his hair was wild and his eyes were full of a frantic and terrified, as well as emotional, light.

"I think so, " the Pretender agreed. "She's like a small child, can go to sleep at the drop of a hat." He gave a deep sigh and a tear rolled down his cheek but it was on the side of his face away from Sydney, and went unseen by the older man. "Did Parker know Kyle?"

It was Sydney's turn to stare out of the window. "Yes. They met in March 1968. After Kyle was 'released', Parker fretted for company. It was then that her father suggested she meet you. It tied in with a simulation that the Triumvirate wanted done at the time, so I complied."

"And we met." Jarod's mind flew back to one day in 1969.

Sydney: I'd like you to meet someone, Jarod.
Jarod: You're a girl.

Jarod pulled his mind out of the past and stared at Sydney. "So, what can we do? We can't just leave her like that. Her mind's jumping around from year and year, and when she isn't ecstatically happy, she's crying because of the treatment at the hands of her father, or because of her mother's death. It can't be healthy."

"It isn't." Sydney's words carried weight and there was a short silence before he spoke again. "There is something... one way."

"But you don't want to do it." The prodigy didn't even need to look at Sydney to receive confirmation of what he'd said. He just knew. "Why not?"

Sydney turned and looked at Jarod. He didn't want to have to explain this. It was a memory, an order that he had pushed down inside himself. And it was the last spark that caused the argument before the car accident.

"Well, what is it?" Jarod's voice cut across Sydney's thoughts.

"It's...hypnotherapy."

There was a long pause. Sydney knew that Jarod was going over everything that he had ever heard and or read about hypnotherapy in his mind. It was something that he had always done before every SIM and the faraway look in his eyes was a giveaway.

"Well, what's the problem? It's one of the safest alternative treatments." Jarod's voice demanded the answer that Sydney was afraid to give.

* * * *

Miss Parker stared at the ceiling. There was something different about Jarod; she just couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed a little taller but it had been some time since she had last seen him, and probably not being in the Centre any more had changed him too. She wondered briefly why her father hadn't come to see her but the memories hurt her as much as he sometimes did, and she didn't want to remember. Instead she remembered her mother and the times they had had in her studio, staring at the stars through the window, while her father worked late.

The memory of that time brought back another: the sight of men clustered around her mother, in a hall at the Centre; the crouched figure of Angelo in the corner, watching with wide eyes. She had been frozen to the spot for several seconds, then she sprang forward and would have fallen onto the body of her mother, but for the hands that grabbed her and dragged her, screaming, down the hall. Tears ran down Parker's face and a sob escaped her.

Almost immediately she was in a man's warm embrace. She turned her face to Jarod's chest and let the tears soak his shirt. Sobbing, she heard his voice, calm and soothing, and felt him brush the hair off her face. The storm was violent and she was shaking with emotion before she began to calm down. Then, exhausted, she gave in to the sleep that swept her away into a dream where her mother braided her hair and they picnicked under a tree.

Jarod placed the still body down on the bed, then pulled the sheet straight and laid it over her. Pulling up two blankets, he covered her with them also. He had felt the chills that passed through her while he held her on his lap and knew that the fever from the knock on her head was beginning to develop. Then he turned to the other figure, standing silently in the doorway.

"That's how she's been, every so often. We can't leave her like that." His voice was soft but still desperate.

Sydney moved over and put his hand on Jarod's shoulder, guiding him out of the room. "We won't, Jarod. But first, I need to tell you something."

* * * *

"You tried hypnosis on me?!" It was not really a question but there was still a sense of desperation for an answer.

"Yes. I had to."

"You didn't have to. You didn't have to do anything." The words came out as a growl from the Pretender, who hunched himself in a chair and refused to look at the other man. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "What did you do? What suggestions did you make?"

"I..." This was the difficult part for Sydney and his face was covered in sweat, but he didn't notice. "I removed all of the emotions that you had about your family."

"What?!"

"I cut you off from everything you felt about your family."

There was a pause.

"When?" the younger man growled.

"The 3rd of February, 1963."

"But we didn't meet until the day after that, the fourth!"

"No, that's not true. The Triumvirate wanted to ensure that the emotions you may feel didn't...cloud your work. I was instructed to give you sufficient suggestion to cut you off from anything that you felt about your parents. Didn't you ever wonder why you felt so little about it all?" Sydney's voice begged for understanding but he knew that he deserved none. "And then I managed to persuade you while in the hypnotic trance that you had never met me."

"So you...while I was in a trance, you led me to do that. Why would I have?"

Sydney's voice was artificially calm. "Because you, as a Pretender, are very susceptible to hypnosis. It's easy for you to take suggestions and act upon them, more so than with many other people."

Jarod tried to curl further into the seat. This wasn't something he could ever have expected, and he wasn't sure that he felt ready to deal with it, but he had to know the answer to something.

"Why?"

"Jarod, you were nothing but a subject to me then. I had no way of knowing whether the Triumvirate was going to allow us to continue working together. I didn't want to get close to you in case they assigned me to another project, but you weren't like anyone I'd ever worked with before. I wanted to do whatever I could, in case they took you away and gave you to somebody else."

Jarod sat in silence. Then he looked up. "I want to feel it."

"What?"

"Take me back. I want to know what it's like, to feel my family. Please, Sydney, I have to know."

* * * *

Gradually the world faded until he could feel nothing but the calm voice leading Jarod into the peace of an hypnotic trance. He felt himself drifting and wondered vaguely if it were possible to be lost forever in a peace that he had never known was possible. But, with immense effort, he dragged himself back. He couldn't let go. People needed him. Relaxation, however, was easy and he enjoyed it. Finally he listened to what Sydney was saying. The psychiatrist hadn't wanted to include regression in the session, but Jarod had insisted. He knew that his self-control would bring him back to the present and not leave him in limbo, as Parker was. But he wanted to remember what life had been like in the first four years, before Centre involvement. Under Sydney's gentle guidance, Jarod went back to the farm where he had spent part of his life. Gradually he allowed the memories to flood back.

Sydney watched as tears ran from under Jarod's closed eyelids. Sydney himself had said nothing for nearly ten minutes, allowing Jarod to privately experience everything he had been forced to forget. After almost half an hour, when he was finally lying quietly on the floor where the hypnosis had been carried out, the session was brought to a close. Jarod stared at the ceiling for several seconds before glancing at Sydney.

"I felt her. I talked with her. After thirty-six years, I finally have my family back with me again." A solitary tear ran down his face, but it was not one of sadness. "You can't possibly know how good that feels."

"Have you forgotten?" Sydney chided gently. "You gave me a family, and thanks to you I got over feelings I'd never even known I was holding back when I was able to confront the man who took my family away from me."

Jarod's gaze shifted to the window where the dawn was breaking, filling the room with a pink light while the sky was banded in yellow and red. He didn't want to get up, only to stay there, remembering and feeling so much of what he thought had been lost, however a sound from the bedroom brought him instantly to his feet.

Parker lay on the bed, her legs tangled in the blankets and her face covered in perspiration, clothes sticking to her body. Her chest felt like it was on fire and she wondered how her father had got into the room and hit her that hard. Jarod had promised that he wouldn't let him but her father must have managed to get there somehow. Gradually the pain became too great and she began to sob, rolling over to press her face into the pillow. Then he was holding her in his arms but she pulled away and looked up. It was hard to talk. Her tongue felt huge in her mouth and, when she swallowed, her throat and head hurt too.

"Y...you promised not to tell Daddy." It was nothing more than a whisper but Jarod heard it. Confusion was momentarily apparent but then he understood.

"No, Parker, it's not Daddy. You're sick."

"Sick?" The voice sounded weak and confused.

"Yes, sweetie. You banged your head and that gave you a fever."

"So Daddy didn't..."

He held her close and his comforting arms gave her a feeling of security unlike anything she had experienced since her mother had died, months earlier. "I promise, Parker. It wasn't your Daddy. And I promise I won't let him in."

She looked up and the trust in her eyes was that of a child. Then she curled up in his arms. "I feel awful."

"I know." Sydney brought over a bowl with water and a cloth and Jarod carefully wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her face. Her mouth opened with a sigh but she kept her eyes closed.

"That's nice. Can I sleep, Jarod? Daddy always makes me stay awake when I'm sick. He says you get better that way. But I want to sleep." She began to sob again and Jarod and Sydney exchanged glances, as they further understood the treatment to which Mr Parker had subjected his daughter.

"Please, let me sleep. I'm so tired and I hurt really bad."

Jarod lowered his head as she forced out the last words. He kissed her forehead softly, as he could now remember his mother doing to him, and gently stroked her hair, holding her closer. "Yes, sweetheart. Of course you can sleep. You just close your eyes and relax. I'll stay here and take care of you. You'll be okay, I promise."

He watched as her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks two or three times and then were still. Almost immediately she went limp in his arms, whereas before every muscle had fought the sleep that her father had never let her enjoy. After several minutes he picked her up in his arms and laid her down, gently putting her head on the pillow. The light through the window was strengthening as every minute passed, so Sydney softly closed the blind. In the half-dark, the two men stood and watched as the woman slept. Then they left the room, leaving the door ajar so that they would hear if she woke again.

"My God, how much more did he put her through? Physical abuse, not letting her sleep when she was sick? What next, sexual abuse?"

Sydney nodded sadly. "I think it's probable. I mean, with that much power, why stop there?"

Jarod sat on the floor, drawing his knees up under his chin and then wrapping his arms around his legs. "Did you ever suspect that he might be...doing that?"

"I never really had much to do with her when she was little, particularly not after 1963. You were my main concern."

A fleeting smile swept over Jarod's face. "So you never knew?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps, sometimes, I suspected. But I was never really involved with small children outside of the Centre and, as her father often told me that she was a little clumsy, I guess I saw no reason to doubt it."

There was a long pause. Finally Jarod looked up from studying the marks on the floor. "How will we know? If she's been sexually assaulted, I mean."

"I guess it will all emerge under hypnosis." Sydney sighed as he thought of all she would have to go through.

Jarod looked up at the psychiatrist. "Did Jacob know?"

Sydney sighed and looked out of the window as the sun appeared over the edge of the horizon. "Yes, he knew about the hypnosis with you, but I don't know about the bad treatment. The accident happened before Miss Parker was even eight years old. Is there anything to suggest that the assaults were happening before then?"

Jarod carefully picked up Catherine's diary and then flipped through a few pages before he found the entry that he wanted.

July 29, 1967
""There is no fear in love; perfect love drives out all fear. So then, love has not been made perfect in anyone who is afraid, because fear has to do with punishment." (1 John 4:18) I hope that my daughter will be strong enough to put up with everything that happens to her. I would so like to be able to protect her from the dangers she faces, but I know that I can't do so forever. I only hope that she will be strong enough to be able to deal with everything that comes. That is why I give her love when others give her nothing but sadness."

Sydney looked up. "She knew, then."

"And you and Jacob were arguing about the Centre when the crash happened. Is that what the argument was about? Us? The children of the Centre?"

"Yes, Jarod." Sydney's voice was soft. "It was."

"Why did you keep working there after Jacob was hurt?"

"I...We, Catherine, Jacob and I had made plans to get you out, and to disappear with you. But after he was hurt, those plans were put on hold. Then Catherine died and I guess my courage died right along with them. I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I convinced myself that you were better off in the Centre, that if you were in the outside world, you would be exploited. I suppose I blinded myself to the exploitation that the Centre itself was involved in. And Miss Parker...I thought she would have to be better off with her father than under any protection I could offer."

Jarod got up off the floor and stood staring out of the window. Sydney tried to combat the feelings that swelled up and threatened to engulf him but he knew that he was failing. It was a relief when, without turning, Jarod moved over and picked up his jacket.

"I'm going to get something to try and get rid of Parker's fever."

"You'll come back?" There was a note of desperation in Sydney's voice.

"Yes, Syd. I'll be back."

The door slammed behind him and Sydney took several deep breaths. He was dealing with more, emotionally, than he had faced in all of the years he had worked at the Centre.

The Centre.

For a moment he wondered what the reaction to their absence was. He considered calling Broots, but he was concerned that the Centre might trace the call and he wanted to be sure that both Jarod and Miss Parker were all right before he let the Centre get involved with them again.

If he ever did let the Centre get involved.

His fists were clenched with rage as he thought through all of the damage that had been done. He wanted nothing more than to take the two away with him, perhaps including Broots and Debbie in the party. In an ideal situation, he could see Jarod and Miss Parker starting a family of their own, but he thought that was unlikely. They had both experienced too much as each other's expense to begin a process like that.

A noise from the other room brought him to his feet and, going in, he saw Miss Parker, her eyes bright with fever, looking placidly up at him from the pillow. The condition of the bed showed that feverish nightmares had caused her to thrash around and mess up the covers, and Sydney felt a momentary shame that he had been too wrapped up in his own thought to hear her.

"Where's Jarod?" Her voice, weak from the illness, rang thinly in his ears and he moved over to the bedside.

"He went out to get some medicine to make you feel better."

"He'll come back though, won't he?"

"He said he would. But he'll be disappointed that you aren't asleep after he told you to be."

"But I don't want to sleep alone." Her voice trembled and Sydney's heart flowed with compassion for everything that she had suffered. He sat on the bed and opened his arms. She pulled herself towards him and, with her head resting on his shoulder and the rest of her body curled up in his lap, he felt her slowly relax into sleep. The thought of how he must look with a fully-grown woman in his arms would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so serious.

A sound from the doorway made him cautiously turn his head to see Jarod with two figures behind him, at the sight of whom Sydney gave a sigh of relief. Jarod stepped across and scooped the woman up easily into his strong arms. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and, waking slightly, she put her arms around his neck. He sat down in the armchair that Broots now moved from the outer room into the bedroom and Miss Parker curled up into a tight ball. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.

"You...came back," she murmured as she burrowed in closer.

"Yes, Parker. I came back." With his eyes, he signaled Debbie to get a blanket from the bed. Wrapping the woman in it, Jarod began to gently rock her. Her blue eyes sleepily looked up at him and he smiled down at her. He draped her legs, in their pajamas and the socks he had put on her feet when he had brought her to his apartment, over the arm of the chair and used his spare hand to brush her hair, damp with sweat, off her face. Her lips moved but he couldn't understand what she said. Leaning his head against the back of the chair, he stared up at the ceiling for several seconds before letting his eyes shut.

Suppressed Memories
Part 2


Jarod wasn't asleep. He wouldn't allow himself to do that in case he relaxed too much and let Parker go. A short while after he had closed his eyes, Jarod could feel that his reserves of energy had returned to their normal levels. Often going for long period with little sleep, he had evolved this method to help him recover from exhaustion before his escape from the Centre.

As his eyes opened, he looked down and saw that Parker was sound asleep. Her face was turned towards him and one back of one hand rested against his stomach, fingers curling gently in toward the palm, while the other, fingers spread wide, hung down towards the floor. Cautiously, he got to his feet, watching her to see if she would wake. When she didn't, he turned to the bed that Debbie had neatened and turned back. Jarod laid his former nemesis down gently, as if she could break, pulled up the covers and softly laid them over her sleeping body. He waited to ensure that she didn't stir before he left the room.

Sydney looked up to see the former child prodigy standing in the doorway. Jarod shut the door behind him and moved further into the room.

"Is she asleep?"

Jarod nodded, yes, but moved silently across to the only empty chair around the table. Then, suddenly, he broke out of his reverie and looked around.

"Where did all the extra furniture come from?"

Broots grinned. "I remembered how sparsely furnished your lairs usually are, so Debbie and I went and borrowed some more chairs. There are a couple of beds there too, one each. If one was set up in the bedroom, there'd be plenty of room for the rest of us." He looked around the room that was fortunately very large, although with the extra furniture it had seemed to shrink a little.

Sydney looked up as Broots finished talking. "I guess you need to think about - are you done with the latest...?"

Jarod nodded. "Yeah. I was about to move, today actually."

"You don't have much stuff," Debbie remarked, before her father could stop her, and Jarod smiled, the first genuine smile that Sydney had seen since arriving.

"I know. I travel light. I don't need much stuff because I don't have a real home, you see. Not like you've got, with your Dad."

"Oh," Debbie's face fell. "Poor you. I think everyone should have a proper home."

"I think so, too. But lots of people don't. Not just me."

Jarod gave a second, half-hearted smile and, as Broots had gently kicked his daughter under the table as a warning, there was silence.

* * * *

"Jarod, you have to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You still need to eat something. It would do any good if you don't. You need to be strong, not just for Parker, but for yourself."

With a mixture of threats, cajoling and encouragement, Sydney finally convinced Jarod to finish the food that was in front of him. After the last mouthful, Jarod looked up, a hint of a smile curling the edges of his mouth.

"You know, you really sound like a father sometimes."

Sydney laughed in response, a sound that Jarod had rarely heard, despite the long time they had spent together. Broots, too, looked sharply over his shoulder as he washed the breakfast dishes.

After pushing the empty bowl away, Jarod got up from the chair and moved over to the sofa where Debbie was sitting.

"Did your Dad tell you anything about what's wrong with Miss Parker?"

Debbie looked up and shook her head. "No. He just said she was sick and that I should stay out of trouble and out of the way."

Jarod grinned at the typical remark. The only time he had known the technician to be strong, and occasionally stubborn, was where his daughter was concerned. But, as he recalled the topic of discussion, the smile faded.

"Parker's...very sick. She got a really bad bump on the side of her head, which is why it's all bruised. But it caused a problem in her thinking. She's got a thing that people like Sydney call regression. That means she's thinking like she did when she was younger."

"So she's my age?" the girl asked curiously.

"She's thinking the way she did when she was your age, yes,” Jarod agreed. "But that means she won't know who you are, or your Dad either, because she only recognizes people that she knew when she was younger, like Sydney or me. And she didn't know you then."

Debbie was silent and Jarod continued. "She's also got a fever from the knock to her head. That's what I was buying when you arrived, things to make that better. Unfortunately we can't make her mind better yet."

"When you do, will she be the way she was before, or will she be different?"

"I don't know, Debbie. It'll depend on a lot of different things. She might say some things that sound very strange to you, but if you want to know, ask Sydney or me, okay? 'Cause your Dad may not know about them."

"Okay."

"For now, though, I don't actually want her to see you. If she did, she might get a little confused and we want to help her with things before she thinks the way she did before this knock to her head. Do you understand?"

"You mean there's problems she needs help with?" Debbie prompted.

"Exactly."

"Oh." She paused thoughtfully. "But I can see her eventually, can't I?"

Jarod nodded. "Of course, eventually."

* * * *

He sat on the camp bed and looked at the figure on the bed. The entire afternoon had passed and the last rays of light were streaming in through the window and onto where he sat. He watched as Miss Parker's eyes fluttered and then slowly opened. However, he was startled to see the tears that began rolling down her cheeks as soon as she looked at him. But that shock was nothing compared to the words she uttered.

"No…Why…Jarod's dead!"

He jumped off the bed and gathered her in his arms. "No, Parker, I'm not dead. I'm still here, I promise."

She heard nothing of what he said and continued in soft moans that were heart-rending. "Momma an’ Faith an’ Jarod - all dead. I only want Daddy dead. I don't want Jarod to die. Please, don't let him die. No, please." The woman began to sob savagely. "Why did Jarod have to die? I don't want him to die. He's my only friend. Let him stay with me."

Sydney heard the desperate sobbing and the pleading voice as he picked up the small cup in which he had prepared a dose of the medicine Jarod had bought. As he went into the room, he saw the emotion on Parker's face and the desperation on that of the man holding her.

"Parker, listen to me." He spoke sternly and watched as she began, very slowly, to calm down. "I want you to swallow this for me, okay?"

There was an almost imperceptible nod and Sydney tilted the cup so that a little of the mixture went into Parker's mouth. After waiting, he performed the same act a number of times until the dose had been given. After several long, tense minutes, the sedative began to work and she relaxed. Jarod put her back onto the pillows and pulled up the blankets. Then he looked up, and the pain in his eyes, which were full of unshed tears, caused the older man's heart to ache.

"What is it?" he asked softly. "What did she say?"

"She said…she said I was dead, Sydney. Why did she say it? Couldn't she see me there, sitting on the bed beside her? Couldn't she feel me holding her?"

Sydney understood the question that Jarod wanted to ask but couldn't, as he put out a hand and gently rested it on Jarod's arm. "You can't do anything to help her with this yet. She needs to get over the fever before we can even begin to deal with any of the other problems." He glanced around the room, trying to find the source of Parker's thought. The lay glow of light on the bed in the corner gave him an idea and he nodded in that direction. "Were you sitting there with light all around you?"

"Yes." Suddenly Jarod understood. "You mean she thought she was dreaming that I was there and that I was really…?"

"Dead? Yes, I think so. You told me once that you sometimes see the image of your mother. It would be much the same, I'd imagine, with her, except that her fever made her see you as a kind of angel, in much the same way as she told me she saw Faith when she was in hospital with peritonitis. Remember?"

"I could never forget that," the Pretender muttered.

He sighed and turned away from Sydney to where the stars had begun to appear in the sky. A hand on his arm made him turn back.

"Jarod, you're exhausted. Why not get a little sleep now? That medicine should keep Parker comfortable for a few hours yet."

Jarod nodded and moved over to the bed. When he was sitting down, Sydney left the room, closing the door behind him. His face was the only sign of his concern, criss-crossed with lines of worry.

Broots looked up and immediately the concerned expression on his face mirrored Sydney's. "She's worse?"

The other man shook his head. "Just no better."

"And Jarod?"

"Sleeping soon, I hope." He looked around the room. "Where's Debbie?"

"Shopping. She volunteered and the store’s just around the corner. Jarod didn't have much in his cupboards, certainly not enough to feed us all for the time we look like being here."

Sydney tried to smile, but his anxiety about what had just happened in the bedroom prevented him from doing so. "Judging by what's wrong, I'd say we could be here for a while."

"Syd, just what is wrong?" the technician prompted.

Sydney thought for a couple of minutes. Then he told him.

* * * *

Jarod hadn't believed he could sleep, but nature had briefly been too strong and the room was dark when he opened his eyes again. He moved over and switched on the lamp beside the bed on which Miss Parker lay. The small circle of light illuminated her face and the top half of her body and Jarod was relieved to see that the medicine seemed to be having an effect. The flush in her cheeks was a healthy pink rather than a flushed red, and her hair, instead of damply sticking to her forehead, lay in dry waves on the pillow.

He sat down in the chair beside the bed. Cautiously he stretched out a hand and, with the very tips of his fingers, gently brushed her cheek. As though in response, her lips parted with a gentle sigh. Jarod smiled and then wondered at himself for daring to do what he had just done. This was, after all, the woman who had been pursuing him for so many years, however it was easier to believe that now, when she was asleep, than when she looked at him with those childish eyes. Then, he could almost think, she was little different from the girl she had been when they had played in the bowels of the Centre together.

* * * *

Broots slowly paced the room. Even the little Sydney told him had disgusted the technician. No, disgusted was the wrong word. Repelled, appalled, even revolted by the thought that Mr Parker could violate his own daughter in that way. Broots thought of someone doing something like that to Debbie and felt a flame of anger grow inside until he wanted to hurt the man of whom he had, until recently, been so terrified, as much as that man had hurt his daughter. Fists clenched at his sides, he walked the length of the room while Sydney repeated the facts that had been revealed to them so far.

He suddenly cut across the explanations." I don't want Debbie to know this."

"I can understand that," Sydney responded softly. "But where could she go? Who could you trust? If anyone from the Centre got hold of her - I don't even want to think what they might do to her to get you back and working for them."

Broots was silent for a moment. "Are any of us safe any more?"

"Have we ever been?"

They looked up as Jarod walked into the room. He sat in one of the chairs and looked at the other two men in the room. Sydney spoke first.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. Even working for them, none of us have ever been safe. Catherine, Jacob, Kyle, Angelo…they're all proof of how unsafe we are."

The two Centre operatives considered this and realized he was right.

"So what can we do?"

"In the long term, we could destroy the Centre as we know it. It was once a very productive and positive place. There's no reason why it couldn't be returned to that, once we get rid of negative influences, like the Triumvirate."

"And in the short term?"

"I guess we need to look out for ourselves. I know people with whom Debbie would be perfectly safe, if you don't want her with you."

"I bet you do." Broots grinned half-heartedly but the topic was too serious for banter.

Sydney looked up. "And then what, Jarod?"

"I don't think we should plan much for the near future until…until we see how Parker responds."

* * * *

She watched as the man slowly approached her bed. Despite the shadows, she could recognize her father’s form and silently screamed within her head for someone, anyone who could come and save her from this situation. Then, as she looked down, she could see the gun in her hand. In a daze, she raised her arm and, without taking aim, pulled the trigger. The sounds of death filled her ears and her eyes couldn't pull away from the sight of her father writhing on the floor in front of her. In a state of shock, she looked down at the gun in her hand and, in horror, tried to throw it away. Then she discovered that it had stuck to her hand and, moreover, was coming up to her head. She fought but the power was too strong and the pistol pulled her hand to her forehead and pulled the trigger.

As she crashed to the floor, Parker's sobbing interrupted the conversation in the outer room and Jarod, running into the room, picked her up in his arms and held her. He could feel that every muscle was tense and her heart was pounding as she sobbed violently. "I killed him…and then I killed myself. Oh, it hurts, it hurts!"

He knew better than to tell her that it was only a dream and, while rocking her, spoke softly in her ear. "What was it, Parker? Tell me what happened."

"I killed him. My Daddy. I killed him and then the gun killed me." The terror in the girlish voice rose rapidly in pitch but, before she reached the level of hysteria, Jarod spoke.

"Parker! Parker, look at me. Come on. Open your eyes and look at me."

She moaned but the calm voice had checked the panic and the eyes that opened and focused on him, although full of terror, were not beyond reason.

"J…Jarod?"

"Yes, Parker. I'm here." His voice was soothing. "It's okay."

"I…I shot my Daddy."

"Parker, it just was a bad dream. Do you understand? Just a nightmare. Nothing more. You didn't shoot anybody."

"S…sure?"

"Yes, Parker." He gently stroked her hair as he held her in his arms. "I’m sure."

"Then what was the loud bang?"

"You fell out of bed, sweetheart."

"And Daddy isn't..."

He wrapped his arms more firmly around her and rocked her again. "You've been here all the time and Daddy isn't here. I promised he wouldn't be, remember?"

Parker nodded. "I 'member." She snuggled up against Jarod. "And you promise I didn't do it?"

"I promise."

"And I'm not dead?"

"No, you're definitely not dead."

She threw her arms around his neck and he held her firmly to stop her slipping to the floor. As she put her head on his shoulder and snuggled into his neck, Jarod sat down in the chair beside the bed. Stroking her hair, he could feel as her heart rate decreased and she began to calm down from the heightened sense of terror into which the dream had thrown her. He rocked her and slowly felt her breathing become deeper and more measured as she relaxed. Of concern was the fact that her temperature appeared to be rising again and, although he had hoped that she was recovering from the fever, it seemed that it would take longer than he had anticipated. As he sat, rocking her in his arms, he wondered if they were really safe. There were other places that they could all go, however he didn't want to move Miss Parker in her current state. His one encouragement at the moment was that it seemed unlikely that Miss Parker would want to return to the Centre, but what her opinion would be when she was in her right mind was almost impossible to judge.

It was at this point that Parker's arms slowly slipped down from around his neck and hung towards the floor. She sighed deeply and moved her head slightly on his shoulder. A stroke to her hair calmed her and, seconds later, he knew that she was asleep. Jarod was becoming expert at putting her to bed and she didn't even respond at all as he put her on the mattress and covered her. Doing so, he had to wonder how many more times he was going to have to respond to her terror before the problems could be resolved. It was terrifying to him that a parent could do that to his only child and he silently swore that she would, one day, have revenge. As he came into the outer room, Sydney looked up.

"Jarod, are you making a promise you can't keep?"

The younger man raised his head, anger burning in his eyes. "Syd, I'm telling you now that if Mr Parker ever comes through that door, he won't leave this building alive."

* * * *

August 10 1968
""Help us, Lord! There is not a good man left; honest men can no longer be found. All of them lie to one another; they deceive each other with flattery. Silence those flattering tongues, O Lord! Close those boastful mouths that say, 'With our words we get what we want. We say what we wish, and no one can stop us...' Keep us safe, oh Lord, and preserve us from such people." (Psalms 12:1-8)

Jarod looked down at the Bible quotation. It was rare that Catherine only wrote a quotation and no comment to accompany it, but perhaps whatever had prompted her to write that quote on that day had required no other comment. That day for him had been a relatively positive one. It was on that day that he and Kyle had learnt to communicate, despite being in different cells. The memory of that time brought tears to Jarod's eyes. His grief for his brother was only partially abated and there were still times when he wondered if he could have done anything to save him. The memory of Kyle's death brought to mind another member of the Centre's team, and one to whom Jarod had given little thought over the past few days. Lyle. There had to be a method of paying back Lyle for everything that they, he and to a lesser extent Parker, had suffered at that man's hands. And when Parker was recovered, he was determined to do something about it. Not now. But later.

Sydney moved over to the doorway and looked into the room. Jarod was sitting on the camp bed watching the woman, who lay on the bed where he had put her after watching the most recent dose of medicine take effect.

"Jarod, we're ready to go."

The young man looked up. "Is everything packed?"

"Everything except the sheets on Parker's bed."

"Okay." He stood up and moved over to the bed. "Sydney?"

"Yes, Jarod?"

"Pack this as well. We'll need it later."

Sydney looked down at the diary that was held out to him and nodded as he took it. It was going to be very important in the recovery process for all of them.

Jarod walked over to the bed and picked the woman up, feeling as her head rolled onto his shoulder and her arms hung limply at her sides. Although he knew that the sedative was powerful, he half-waited for some sign that she felt him, but none came. He backed away and, as the other man stripped the sheets off the bed and rolled them into a bundle, he wrapped her still form in a thick blanket. Being meant for a double bed, it was big enough to cover her completely and he knew that she would feel none of the cold night air.

Leaving the building with the woman held tightly in his arms, he relished, as he always did, a sense of freedom he felt at being free of the Centre. He couldn't help suddenly wondering what it might feel like not to ever have to worry about the Centre again.

Sydney followed him down the stairs with the last of the bags. Broots, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, took them and Sydney picked up Debbie from where she lay on the garden seat. She, too, was asleep, but this was a natural sleep, unlike Parker's. Broots had tried to wake Debbie, but the girl had remained asleep and Jarod had laughed quietly as he had scooped up Debbie and, followed by Broots, had carried the girl down the stairs and put her on the bench. The girl and her father had stayed there for the few minutes before Jarod reappeared with Parker in his arms. Now, as Broots slipped into the front passenger seat, Sydney arranged Debbie next to him, so that her head rested on her father's lap. This left just enough room for Sydney himself to sit, as the seat had sufficient space and seatbelts for three and, as Sydney fastened the belt around the still figure of the girl, he was grateful that Jarod had managed to obtain the vehicle for the move.

Jarod, meanwhile, had sat Parker on the central of the three seats and had done up the seatbelt over her lap. The only problem, he found, was that when he let her go to get into the car himself, she slid over and lay down on the seat. Sydney muffled a laugh as he saw the dilemma and held her firmly while Jarod sat on the seat behind the driver and did up his own belt. Grabbing a pillow from the pile in the back of station wagon, Jarod put it on his lap and Sydney then allowed Miss Parker's head to rest on the soft surface. The psychiatrist swung her legs up onto the seat behind where Broots sat and did up the other belt to ensure that she was secure. Another blanket, wrapped well around the unconscious form, would be sufficient to keep her warm. Sydney got into the driver's seat and they drove away.

* * * *

"Daddy?"

The technician looked down at his daughter. "Yes, Debbie?"

"Where are we?" The young face, bright from sleep, sat up and looked through the windscreen.

"We're leaving Delaware, for a little while anyway."

"Does that mean I won't have to go to school anymore?"

Broots glanced across and Sydney and laughed. "We-ell, I don't know. Sydney's a pretty good teacher. Maybe you could learn your lessons from him."

Debbie glanced at Sydney with a smile on her face before she looked back at her father. "But he'll be too busy taking care of Miss Parker to teach me."

"I think he'll make time." Broots looked over to Sydney for confirmation but a nod of Sydney's head in the direction of the back seat made Broots look around to see Jarod with his head lolling back against the headrest of the seat as his hand gently rested on Parker's head.

* * * *

Sydney pulled up outside the large building. He stared at in shock before turning to Jarod, who sat in the back with a hand resting on the sleeping woman.

"Are you…sure…this is where you meant?"

Jarod smiled. "I'd forgotten that you were here that day, when Kyle..." His voice trailed off and he looked at the Dragon House with satisfaction.

Sydney undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. He was about to come around and help Jarod with Miss Parker when a figure stepped out of the front door of the building. Sydney's hand dropped from the handle of the car door and glanced from the young man who was approaching to Jarod, who had managed to climb out of the car, leaving Miss Parker lying on the car seat.

"Good to see you, Nicholas," the Pretender called as the figure came closer.

"Hi Dad. Thanks for the call, Jarod."

"Where's...?" Jarod's sentence went unfinished as another figure ran out from the building and into Sydney's arms.

* * * *

After the reunion, Jarod hurried the group around to a vehicle parked behind the building. Michelle had already packed her belongings and those of her son into the large storage area of the seven-seat wagon and, with the help of Sydney, Broots and Debbie, the belongings from the car were now added to them. The process took only ten minutes and then, with Sydney behind the wheel, Michelle next to him, Nicholas, Debbie and Broots in the very back seat and Jarod and Miss Parker taking up the remaining spaces, the wagon headed off in a different direction from the way they had come.

Although Parker roused once during the journey, Jarod had prepared a dose of the medication and her time of awareness was very short. In fact Jarod doubted if she would have realised they'd even left his lair. Finally, after several hours of driving through very mountainous terrain, with badly made roads and high walls of rock on either side of the vehicle, they pulled up outside a spacious and fairly modern property. The car stopped and five of the seven occupants got out and stretched their legs. Jarod undid the fairly complicated series of belts that had kept Miss Parker still on the journey and then, getting out, turned to pick her up from the seat. She responded groggily, the dose wearing off as he lifted her.

"Jarod, where are we?"

"Safe, Parker. Somewhere that Daddy will never find you." At the mention of her father, she shivered and hid her face in Jarod's neck. The last hour of the drive had been punctuated by a series of nightmares in which she had seemingly been reliving some of the worse things that her father had done to her. Fortunately the dreams had been silent and only he had seen the twitching and beads of sweat that betrayed her torment.

As Jarod carried Parker up the stairs and entered a room on the second floor, he recalled the conversation that had resulted in their sudden move.

"Are we really safe here?"

"Haven't you learned anything from knowing me? You aren't safe anywhere!"

Sydney faced the younger man. "That's not fair, Jarod. We haven't been through what you have and we couldn't know."

There was a moment of silence. "You're right, Sydney. I'm sorry Broots but this situation has me more tense than usual, I guess. It's the responsibility, as much as anything."

"So are we going to move?"

"I really think we have to. Too long in any one spot is likely to arouse suspicion."

"And…is Miss Parker up to it?"

Jarod sighed and, standing, began to pace the room. "I don't know. In an ideal situation, we'd wait until the fever broke properly before we moved her, but we don't have that luxury. I suppose the best thing to do is to sedate her and move before she wakes. It's a risk, but so is staying here."

"And it's necessary?"

"I think so. I know the Centre doesn't have you watching out for me, but there's still Lyle and Brigitte, and I'd prefer not to have to watch the two of them drag us all back there before we can do everything that needs doing."

"So we move...?"

"Tomorrow. Evening. And we'll need to do it quickly, so let's get organised."

Jarod wrapped Parker more tightly in her blanket and put her down on the deep, padded chair in the corner. Then, turning, he reached into the bag that had been swinging on his arm and extracted the sheets. Making the bed took only a few minutes and he kept up a steady conversation with her while he did so.

"How come we moved?"

"So that no one would find us."

"And they won't find us here?"

"I hope not."

"Can I see Timmy soon? I really miss him. We talked all the time."

"I…don't know, Parker. Maybe soon, but I'm not making any promises."

"But you promised about my Daddy."

Jarod's voice was soft but firm. "I only make promises that I know I can keep."

* * * *

Sydney stood beside the bed and watched as nightmares ravaged the figure that lay on it. The cries that came from the partly open mouth, although soft, were a torturous reminder of what he had put Jarod through. Turning he could see Miss Parker also suffering but silently as though not wishing to detract from Jarod's pain. A hand on his shoulder made him turn again and he saw Michelle standing beside him.

"It's not your fault."

"But why didn't I see it? Why couldn't I have done something to prevent it?"

"You couldn't possibly have known."

"I knew what this was doing to Jarod. I just never did anything about it. I was a coward, hiding behind official protocol and convincing myself that everything would just work itself out."

He hid his face in his hands and listened to the sounds that came from Jarod's mouth as he slept. Michelle reached out and drew him to her, holding him as the full impact of what he had unleashed on one innocent person and had allowed to happen to another began finally to dawn on him. The almost savage sobbing did what the whispered conversation had not and Jarod woke, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting, waiting, until Sydney calmed down.

* * * *

Broots sat out in a chair on the veranda and watched as Debbie swung herself up into the apple tree that grew in front of the house, the top branches of which reached almost to the third-storey windows. As she drew level with those on the second floor and looked in, Broots could almost imagine that he heard her gasp before she scrambled down to the ground. Slipping the last few feet, she dropped to the ground and, as her father hurried over, looked at him out of wide eyes.

"What is it?"

"It…there's something wrong up there. Sydney looks really upset and Michelle's comforting him and when Jarod saw me looking in through the window, he shook his head and waved at me to go away. Daddy, what's going on?"

Broots stroked her hair and his voice was vague as he looked up to the window of the room. "I don't know, Debbie. I really don't."

* * * *

"Do you blame me?"

The voice came out of the darkness but Jarod had been anticipating the question and, as he sat in the lower branches of the same tree that Debbie had climbed, paused before giving an answer.

"I did. For the first months outside the Centre I blamed you for it all - everything I never had in my life. And every time I discovered something new, I told myself it was your fault I hadn't learned about it before." There was a further pause. "Now I can see how much of it was you and how much was the Centre. Yes, Sydney, I still blame you. But not as much as I used to."

Sydney moved away from the building and into the space beneath the tree. "And Miss Parker? Do you think she blames me?"

Jarod thought for several seconds, during which time he struggled to understand the woman whom he had loved and feared, respected and pitied for so many years. "I think…I think that, like many other victims of abuse, she probably blames you for not seeing what was going on, for not being there to help her to escape from the situation. Not just you but everyone around her. Even though she wouldn't have mentioned what was happening, she would still have wanted someone to see, to ask if everything was okay, and to try and save her from the horrors that her father unleashed on her."

"But…she adores her father. Is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?" Sydney's confusion was only momentary before a flash of insight allowed him to understand but he was so deep in thought that he failed to notice Jarod's lack of response to the question, answering it himself. "Maybe you can. I mean, I…you…"

Sydney's voice trailed away as he stopped himself from referring to the situation between Jarod and himself and which, he suddenly realized, was very like that of Miss Parker and her father. The figures of torturer and victim were apparent in both circumstances, and in both cases the victim had formed a close tie with their tormentor. He thought again in silence that now extended for several moments but Jarod was waiting for the question when it came.

"Do you really blame me?

Jarod jumped down and turned to face Sydney. "It doesn't really matter whether we blame you or not. You blame yourself so much now that anything we do or feel can only be insignificant."

A moment passed, then another. Sydney hesitated, realizing that what had just been said was simply voicing his feelings.

"How did you know?"

Jarod grinned, and even in the near-darkness, Sydney could see the expression on his face. "I am what you made me, a Pretender, remember? Besides, even if I wasn't, I'd expect to be able to understand you by now."

Finally Jarod hugged the other man, trying to make him understand that, despite the problems that existed, he forgave him fully and freely for the past.

* * * *

August 1, 1967
""Do not be afraid - I am with you! I am your God - let nothing terrify you! I will make you strong and help you; I will protect you and save you. Those who are angry with you will know the shame of defeat."(Isaiah 41: 10)"

Sydney's eyes read over the biblical quotation without taking in its meaning. How could he be expected to understand it when his eyes were always coming back to rest on the woman that lay on the bed? For almost an hour they had tried to convince Jarod to go to the bedroom assigned to him. Eventually, after a great deal of persuasion, Jarod had yielded but Sydney suspected that his former protégée would get little sleep that night. Shaking his head slightly to dispel the memory of the argument, Sydney looked again at the diary.

"I know that I will need of all the strength I possess to assist Sydney and Jacob to remove the children from the Centre. When I think of the struggle it will involve, I am close to losing my nerve. I sometimes wonder if I will look back on this diary once the situation has been resolved and laugh at myself for my fears. Or will I understand them and realize just how right I was? I am thankful that they, at least, show no fear and are both determined to help me get the children out."

* * * *

Jarod lay with his fingers intertwined behind his head as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling. He wondered, as he often had in the past, what had made Miss Parker turn from a childhood friend to the enemy she had so often seemed. There were occasions, it was true, that they had been able to understand each other, however that had rarely occurred face to face, when both were in their right minds and even then Parker's sense of uneasiness was always obvious. His mind traveled back to the day before she was to travel to Japan. He had gone to see her in the small room on the Centre where she studied when not at college, a place where her father could keep an eye on her, and recalled the conversation they had had.

"Parker?"

"What do you want, Jarod?" The coldness of her voice had disconcerted him for a moment, but he had naively assumed that the thought of leaving was distracted her.

"I was kind of hoping you would stop in to say goodbye."

Parker remained with her back to him and her shoulders hunched over her book. "Well, I guess I didn't."

"Can't I...won't you at least give me a hug g’bye?"

"I have work to do."

"Please?"

"No, Jarod. Go away, before I call Daddy."

Jarod had sat behind the cover of the vent for several seconds, staring at the wall in front of him with the pained expression that he wore now. He recalled the pain that he felt in the depths of his chest as he had crawled back to his room along the dark and dusty tunnels, having been so caught up in his own thoughts that it wasn't until later that he had even vaguely remembered seeing Angelo in one of the branches of the passageway.

* * * *

Sydney looked at Parker as she lay on the bed. He was surprised to see that she wasn't tossing as vigorously as she had done on previous days and he remained hopeful that the fever was finally breaking. With any luck, she could recover from the illness and then they could begin to explore the deeper problems. His thoughts drifted back to the comments about himself that he had read in Catherine's diary. If only he had been as determined as she had imagined him to be, the current situation would not ever have existed. With a deep sigh, Sydney pulled his eyes back to the diary in front of him.

November 26, 1969
""Lord, you understand. Remember me and help me. Let me have revenge on those who persecute me. Do not be so patient with them that they succeed in killing me." (Jeremiah 15:15)
If I am to die, and I feel sure that that time is drawing ever closer, then I pray that God will allow my daughter to gain revenge on my behalf. If I am unable to release the children, then I pray that God will give Sydney and Jacob, should he ever recover, the courage to finish the work that I have begun. And if the latest project does go ahead, may it be found out and the Centre exposed by the authorities to the fullest extent of the law."

* * * *

Jarod's eyes widened and he sat upright in bed. The next minute he was flying down the stairs and into the living room of the house.

"Sydney! Angelo...What about...? Sydney?"

Michelle looked up from the book that she was reading. "Sydney's in with Miss Parker. What's the matter, Jarod?"

She heard his voice call something indistinct back and a small smile curled her lips as she picked up her knitting. The man, meanwhile, took the stairs two at a time and was rapidly outside the door of the room allocated to Miss Parker. There he found Sydney, who had heard his calls and progress on the stairs.

"Well, what is it Jarod?"

"Angelo...We left Angelo in the Centre. I have to go back for him, Syd. We can't leave him there..." Jarod's voice trailed off, watching in amazement as Sydney moved deliberately to one of the windows in the hallway and stared out of it, down towards the driveway.

Jarod was about to accost Sydney again with his fears regarding Angelo when the door of the house slammed. Something inside him made the Pretender turn and hurry down the stairs and although he withdrew his gun from the holster he had put on for the trip to the new house and still wore, it was from habit rather than fear.

He burst in through the door of the kitchen and stopped, staring at the figure that had just entered through the front door. Then, with a strangled cry of joy, Angelo leaped at Jarod and hugged him. Looking over Angelo's head, Jarod saw Nicholas and Broots enter the building and, at the same moment, realized that both Sydney and Michelle were standing behind him. A mock-glare creasing his features as he released his hold on the empath, Jarod looked around.

"And how long has this been planned?"

Sydney tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "For a while. Since we all got here, actually. I was worried that you'd notice their absence but obviously you didn't."

Jarod couldn't help grinning. Sydney was about to speak further when a sleepy voice was heard from the doorway.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

Broots walked over, his expression stern. "Why aren't you asleep, young lady?"

"I heard all this bumping and banging and I didn't know what was happening."

Sydney shot a glance at Jarod, who laughed. Walking over to Debbie, he bent down in front of her as he explained. "That was me. I guess I made a bit of noise when I ran down the stairs. Sorry."

"Now you know," Broots interposed, "I think you should go directly to bed."

Jarod offered her a hand. "Come on, piggyback."

Debbie giggled as she climbed on and the two of the left the room. Meanwhile Angelo had found a bag of marbles and, while he played with them, the other adults watched silently.

As Jarod closed the door of Debbie's room, he heard a voice calling from further along the hall. The feeling, half-hope, half-fear, that he had not voiced even to Sydney, that Miss Parker might have returned to her normal state of mind when the fever broke, caused him to cautiously approach the room, but his first glimpse of her showed that the feelings had been unjustified. Her blue eyes were wide and full of curiosity.

"Jarod, when's Momma coming to get me?"

As the man moved over to the bed, trying to work out the best answer to give, tears began to run down Parker's face.

"Why did Momma have to die, Jarod? How come?"

He moved over to the bed and sat down beside her as she rocked to and fro, her hands pressed to her face, sobbing wildly. As the crying became weaker, the emotion exhausting her as it so easily did, Jarod took her face in both of his hands and forced him to look at her, drawing her body closer to him.

"We'll find out. I promise, we'll find out."

* * * *

Jarod slowly descended the stairs and entered the living room. The attempts at casual conversation that had begun shortly after the Pretender and Debbie had left the room was broken off abruptly as Sydney went upstairs to sit with Miss Parker, and Broots escorted Angelo to the room they had set aside for him. Michelle moved over to where Jarod stood in the doorway and gave him a quick hug. "You'll work everything out, Jarod, I know you will," she assured him. "It might take time, but you'll find the answers."

Jarod didn't respond verbally but hugged Michelle and watched as she ascended the staircase to the second floor of the building. Then he went outside.

Sydney was standing beside the bed, watching Parker as she slept, when Michelle entered the room and slipped her arms around his waist.

"You know, you probably don't need to spend the night here. You said yourself that the fever's broken and I suspect that Jarod will be wanting to sleep here."

He looked at her with a half-smile. "You know, you could be right."

* * * *

Jarod sat next to Nicolas on the step of the veranda and the two of them looked up at the stars. Finally, turning to the Pretender, the younger man spoke.

"How come you...told Dad about me?"

Jarod continued to stare at the sky. "Did he tell you?"

"Yeah. And then when Lyle grabbed us, you came. How come?"

"I guess...I wanted the chance to repay him for some of the things he did for me over the years."

"And yet you knew what it would mean to Sydney, to have his family returned to him. What that would do to you - and him."

"I knew." The words were barely more than a whisper as Jarod was suddenly confronted with every feeling that he had ever had for Sydney. Images flashed through his mind - Sydney as the substitute father in the SIM lab when they first began working together; Sydney teaching Jarod how to do up his tie and how to shave; Sydney's comforting arms when Jarod mourned for the parents he had never known; Sydney receiving the Father's Day card that Jarod had made for him; Sydney…Jarod turned his head away, trying to escape the memories that flooded through him. The pain was almost more than he could stand, a crushing pressure on the middle of his chest. He could do nothing to stop the memories that bore down on him like water through a flooded street.

"I…Jarod, I don't want to take that away from you."

"You don't have to." The voice from behind startled the men and they turned to see the psychiatrist, his brown eyes glowing. "I have different feelings for the two of you, but I love both my 'sons'."

* * * *

Jarod sat on the stairs outside the house and stared up into the blue sky. The weather was so fine that Nicholas, Michelle and Debbie had gone for a walk. He had seen them leave, carrying packs and giving the impression they would be gone for the entire day. It was this that had suggested itself to Sydney as a good day to begin the treatment. As Jarod thought through what was to come, he heard footsteps behind him and, turning, saw Broots appear on the veranda.

"You didn't go with the others?" It was a question to which Jarod already knew the answer, but he spoke purely in an attempt to break the silence.

"Sydney thought I should stay, in case anything..."

"I understand."

After a long pause, Jarod spoke again. "How did you manage to get Angelo out of the Centre without alerting anyone?"

The balding man grinned. "We rattled a box of Cracker Jacks at the entrance to the air vent."

"What?!"

"I'm kidding, Jarod. We'd arranged it already, and it seems he got out the same way you did. At least, that was what he told us."

"He told you?"

"Well...not in so many words."

"I see." Jarod looked rather hard at Broots, who suddenly frantically wished that he were somewhere else, a not uncommon feeling.

At that point, Sydney appeared in the doorway. Jarod stood and faced the man.

"We're ready to begin."

"Sydney...what do you think will happen?"

Sydney sighed and looked past Jarod, out to the trees. "I don't know. I really don't."

When Jarod entered the bedroom, Parker reached over from the bed to hug him and, in amazement, Jarod looked over at Sydney, who hurried to explain.

"We haven't started yet. I thought you'd want to be here for the whole thing."

Jarod nodded and then moved over to a seat by the window as Parker curled up against the pillows again.

The girl’s voice piped up. "What are we doing?"

"We're...going to..."

"Play a game." Jarod interposed quickly.

"Oh, goody! I like games. What do I have to do?"

"Exactly what Sydney tells you to..."

* * * *

Jarod watched as the scene unfolded. Parker had not spoken since the hypnosis began, but seeing his concern, Sydney assured him that this was as normal as could be expected in the situation. It would take some time for her to feel comfortable enough with the situation to begin sharing things. Angelo had been brought into the room as the preparation had been completed and now sat on a chair at the end of the bed, with one hand on Parker's foot so that he could absorb all of her feelings. It was, Sydney had commented wryly, a little unusual for the therapist to have an insight into her thoughts before she uttered them, however, as Jarod had said, anything that might help had to be used.

Sydney's voice broke across the other man's reflections. "Parker, can you tell me what you see?"

"Dark…" she murmured. "It's dark."

"Where are you?"

"Centre."

"Do you remember where you're going?"

"To find Faith."

Jarod looked at Angelo, who reiterated what she said. "Faith."

"What else can you remember of the Centre?" the psychiatrist prompted quietly.

"Jarod."

"Very good. Why was Jarod so important to you?"

The childish voice was suddenly choked. "He was...my friend."

"Why do you say - 'was'?"

"He doesn't like me - not anymore."

Jarod leaped to his feet and stared at Sydney, who motioned for him to remain quiet. Turning back, the therapist saw tears escape from Parker's eyes and spoke softly. "Why doesn't he like you any more? Did he tell you that?"

"Daddy told me. He said that...Jarod didn't want to see me any more."

"Angry...hurt...sad."

The words coming from Angelo's mouth caused Jarod more pain than the discussion with Nicholas the previous evening.

"Is that why you don't like Jarod?"

"I wanted Jarod to be my friend. Daddy said he...didn't like me anymore."

"What about when you were little?"

"Jarod was my friend then." A small smile formed on the woman's face. "I kissed him. But Daddy...Daddy found out."

"What did Daddy do?"

"He...he..." The woman became increasingly distressed as her mind went back in time and she began to twitch violently on the bed.

"All right, Parker. Don't think about it any more. You don't have to remember that now. When you wake up, you'll be very tired but you won't be able to recall any of this discussion. Jarod will let you sleep. Okay..."

As Sydney led Parker through the final stages of the hypnosis, he nodded at the younger man to come next to the bed. Obeying earlier directions, Broots came in and took Angelo from the room. It had been decided that seeing Angelo in his current state might trigger more painful memories and that, therefore, his visits would be limited. As Sydney completed the process, he slipped out of the room, allowing Jarod to be the only one present when she woke up.

"Jarod..."

"Yes, Parker," he slipped an arm under her head and drew her to him. "I'm here."

Her eyes were drowsy as she looked up at him. "I'm tired. How come? Am I still sick?"

"No, Parker. It's okay. I'm here and I won't let anyone in to hurt you."

"Can I go to sleep?"

Jarod stroked her hair and smiled down at her as she lay with her head resting in his arms. "Of course you can."

"Will you..." she broke off in a yawn. "Will you stay here with me?"

"Sure."

* * * *

Jarod slowly descended the last few stairs and entered the room where Sydney and Broots were sitting.

"Asleep?"

"Yes." Jarod ran a hand through his hair and sighed tiredly. "Sydney, are you sure you don't want to go and sit with her? She might miss you."

He shook his head. "No, I want the therapy to remain separate from the recovery, if that's possible. Under the circumstances, you'll be the best helper in that."

Jarod stared at the floor for several minutes. "Why would her...her father say that about me?"

"I think that it was probably the best way he could come up with of separating the two of you. It wasn't exactly a huge secret, what you both got up to. And perhaps he wanted to make it easier for the two of you to separate when Parker went to college and then to Japan."

"There's a clue to that here." Broots spoke hesitatingly and looked up from the diary that he had been carefully perusing since the conversation of the previous night while Jarod had been taking Debbie back to bed.

January 23, 1970
""Break the power of wicked and evil men; punish them for the wrong they have done until they do it no more." (Psalms 10:15) I simply cannot understand why he doesn't want our daughter to associate with others. Certainly the other children in the Centre aren't the ideal playmates, but they are better than spending a solitary life with us, particularly as we rarely have time to spend with her. I know that he is uncomfortable, especially as she is so attached to Jarod, but I can think of few other children who have his maturity level and who will discourage her from some of the wilder ideas that she used to entertain."

"There's your answer, Jarod."

"But it goes deeper than that." Jarod stood and began to pace the length of the room while the others watched. "I have this idea that Mr Parker was always..."

"Jealous," supplemented Angelo.

Jarod spun around to face him. "Yes! How did you know?"

"Remember." Angelo went back to playing with the marbles.

"Are you sure about that, Jarod?" Sydney asked. "Have you got proof?"

"No, not physical proof. For that I would need to have the guy here but," remembering his promise, "as he would be dead before he got through the door..."

"...it would seem to defeat the purpose of having him here," Broots ended the sentence with a grin.

"I think," Jarod diplomatically ignored the interruption, "I suspect that Mr. Parker would have wanted the Triumvirate to have been as interested in his daughter as they were in me. It was outlined in the eighth Red File that she'd been tested and might have contained the Pretender gene, but little other testing was done. His excitement about discovering that Parker's twin was alive would probably have been increased by the knowledge that Lyle had had more extensive testing and therefore would be more likely to be a Pretender, one that Mr Parker could have control over. I mean, Raines had Kyle and Dannie, you had me and the others whereas Mr Parker, although involved in the observation of the project, probably really wanted to get his hands dirty."

Jarod stared at the floor before continuing. "And there would also be the fact that we forged a kind of emotional bond after Catherine die - was killed," he corrected himself. "That wouldn't have helped when he would want her to be closer to him and fill the vacancy left by her mother. But, although Parker never talked to me about it, I always felt that somehow just being there was helpful, especially after Faith died. She needed a distraction." Jarod finally ran out of words and, sitting down on a chair, looked up at Sydney as he had done in earlier years, wanting confirmation of his ideas.

Sydney stood and, clasping his hands behind his back, walked to the window with his head bent, thinking over the information that Jarod had presented. "If that's the case, then it explains the close connection between the two of them as the situation is at present. It takes a lot of work to destroy childish emotions, but when it happens, it's complete. And permanent. Or at least almost impossible to undo."

"You sound like you've experienced it yourself." Broots' words were soft, but Sydney heard them nonetheless.

"I have," Sydney replied softly. "When...Dr Krieg got to us in the camp, he separated us, telling me that Jacob was dead. In my head, I believed him. I had seen a figure, Jacob's size and shape, walking in front of our parents into the gas chamber."

Sydney's voice trembled but he controlled it and continued.

"That night, I woke up in excruciating pain. However it wasn't normal pain, the kind I would have felt if I'd hurt myself. It was...toned down, I guess is the best way to explain it. I'd felt it before, when Jacob's appendix had burst one night and we'd nearly lost him. That, and the fact that I'd experienced nothing for the entire afternoon, when he should have been dying and dead, convinced me that Dr. Krieg was telling me lies. The next day, I told him that. He hit me so hard that he knocked me into a wall. And then several of the guards took over. They only stopped seconds before I lost consciousness.

"As my sense faded away, he told me again that Jacob had died. This went on for days, until finally I began to believe that he was right. The day I told him that, the beatings stopped. A week later, I felt the pain again, but I'd learned to keep my mouth shut, and when Dr Krieg took me away for the first of the experiments, and I felt the pain of which I had sensed the echo the previous night, I knew that Jacob was alive. I also knew that I would never say so aloud. But in that week I'd really believed that I would never see Jacob again. By then, you see, I knew what the chambers were for. It took the pain that my brother felt to convince me that Dr Krieg had lied all along." Sydney inhaled deeply and tried to control his voice again. "Jacob told me later that the same thing had happened to him. He'd given in to the idea faster than I had, because the boy he saw going into the chamber was wearing clothes similar to those that I had been wearing that day. He gave up on me, and it took me a long time after the nightmare was over, to finally convince him that I had survived."

* * * *

Jarod and Broots watched as Sydney let himself out of the front door and walked slowly down the stairs. His silence had not encouraged any speech but, after he left the room, Broots was unable to restrain his curiosity.

"Did you know anything about that?"

"I...had my suspicions. Sydney...one day mentioned something about the things that Krieg had done to him - but his tone warned me away from the subject."

"You were...how old?"

"Eight."

"At eight, you could understand that?"

Jarod turned to face him. "Broots..."

"Okay, okay, never mind. I get it."

At this juncture, even as Broots was beginning to wish himself elsewhere for the second time that day, voices were heard coming up the path and Debbie ran to greet her father.

"Dad, there are so many great walks here. And Nicholas was telling me all about the animals and birds that we saw. He knows heaps."

Jarod looked around. "Where's Michelle?" His tones betrayed his concerns but Nicholas hurried to calm his fears.

"Mom saw S...Dad and they went off together somewhere."

Jarod let out the anxious breath that he'd been unconsciously holding. "Good. I think she's the best help for him right now."

"Why?" Nicholas looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"He was...reliving some suppressed memories that were causing...pain."

"Like what?"

"I think he should probably tell you himself. Ask him later. And Nicholas..."

"Yeah."

"If he doesn't tell you...well, it's a pretty hard thing." Nicholas looked at Jarod for several minutes before recalling the previous night's conversation and then he nodded. "I understand."

* * * *

Jarod stood at the window of his room and stared out at the view with unseeing eyes. The session of that morning had been as painful as that of the previous day and Parker's responses, both verbal and physical, to Sydney's questions had forced a premature halt, leaving Jarod feeling uncomfortable. Couldn't there be some better answer, an easier method? Was there a way to recall it all without the pain that came with it? It had been difficult, painful enough for him to recall the feelings of his family and the loss that he had endured. Despite his abilities as a pretender, it was virtually impossible for him to comprehend her feelings and the emotions that were linked with her past. It was, he knew, because he was too scared, too unwilling the face the well of emotion that he knew was a natural progression from that situation. Jarod recalled the conversation that he and Sydney had had the previous night.

"There is another possible way, but I'm not willing to use it."

"What is it?"

"The application of a barbiturate would encourage her to be relaxed and, working as a sedative, would soften the brunt of the emotion, however..."

"And why not use it?"

"Because of two limitations. Firstly, the drug would do its job, but we need her to feel the emotions and suffer through them to get her over this. It's impossible to solve all her problems unless she faces the emotions, and I think that Parker is unlikely to return to her normal state unless she deals properly with this."

Jarod considered the explanation for several seconds and then looked up. "You said there was a second factor - what is it?"

"The addictiveness of the drug. A barbiturate by its very nature is highly addictive and would be too easy for her to turn to when the situation became too hard. I don't want her to fall from one situation into another that would be just as bad."

As Jarod's mind recalled the conversation, he became aware that a figure was standing in the doorway. Turning, he felt the same emotions that he had felt during the first few days of their enforced co-habitation - that the adult Parker was looking at him, unable to escape from her situation and return everything to normal.

"Jarod?"

"Yes, Parker?" The feeling, as always, vanished as soon as it had appeared, banished by her childish tones.

"Sydney told me to tell you that he wanted to talk to you."

"Where?"

"In my room." She slipped her hand into his and almost dragged him from the room.

As they went, Jarod began to get a feeling that this time something was different. This obviously, was the reason that Sydney had called him. Another session, with perhaps a greater chance of success than the others.

* * * *

The young man looked up in shock as his mother finished explaining about the concentration camp and she and Sydney's time at the Centre together. "He...he went through all that. Why?"

"He had to. If he hadn't, the chances at that neither he nor Jacob would have survived the camp, and then," Michelle's look was tender, "you would never have been born."

"And…and Jarod?"

"Jarod is...a very special part of Sydney's life. I think Sydney always wanted a child, another family to make up for what he'd lost. At the same time, Jarod wanted a family as well and they filled a gap in each other's hearts. It's as painful for Jarod to see the two of you together as it was for Sydney to see Jarod and his father together. But you should have seen Sydney, when he learnt about you, Nick. The excitement in his face was...it was like nothing I've ever seen before. He's usually so calm and sedate, but then his whole face was alight."

"So...I've taken Jarod's family away from him by being here? I’m Sydney's son, so Jarod can’t be."

Michelle reached out and drew her son to her. "If Jarod hadn't wanted Sydney to meet you, he would never have given your father the information he needed to find us. It was something that Jarod felt he could do for Sydney, something that Sydney wouldn't reject, as he had rejected the many gifts that Jarod had tried to give him over the years."

* * * *

Jarod watched as Parker lay on the bed, her eyes closed, but his instincts made his hold on the gun in his hand tighten, although he was certain that there was little for him to be scared of. Sydney, he knew, was in fairly good command of the situation.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Sydney?" The voice took both men by surprise. It was no longer that of the child but the adult, and it was this that had caused Jarod to draw his weapon.

"Parker?" Sydney's tones betrayed his confusion.

"Yes, Sydney. I know you find this difficult to understand."

"It…who are you?"

"I'm Parker, the woman you know."

"Then...who is...?"

"That's me too, but a younger me. When I grew, she stayed behind, tormented by the past and the pain. She retained those memories that I wouldn't allow myself to remember." The woman's voice was calm and even, almost dreamy, evidence of the depth of the hypnotic state.

"When did she...appear?" Sydney was overcoming his confusion but had not yet regained all of his self-control.

"The night that Jarod found me...us. The concussion caused her to emerge and I was powerless to stop it. When I recognized Jarod's voice, I stopped trying. I just wanted to end this. It's... the lack of control I can't stand, Syd. I was terrified that... one day you'd see me like this. Or that Daddy would find out."

"So, why are you here now?"

"I'm... not sure." Jarod found the uncertainty in her voice somewhat amusing. It was certainly different from the adult Parker he knew. "Before you started with the hypnosis..."

"You know about that?"

"I know about everything you've done for me. And you too, Jarod. I want you to know that I'm...grateful for it."

The Pretender couldn't help grinning at the difficulty she had saying the word.

"Parker," Sydney stated softly, "I need the other...self...to come back."

"I know...and she will. But I just wanted the chance to let you know that I was here. I know that when this is all finally dealt with, she'll disappear. You can't possibly understand how good that will be."

"I think I can." Jarod spoke quietly. "But I want to know... why do you suffer the feelings you have over the... death... of your mother?"

"I..." Her voice trembled slightly. "I feel a degree of the pain that she feels, like an echo of it. But she takes the full brunt of the pain, and that will be very hard for you both to erase. She's been going through this for so long, and alone, and she doesn't want to face it. That loneliness is what she's always resented, although she's never been able to explain it, and she's spent years with it just below the surface. She finally channeled the resentment into hate against her...my father; the feelings that I have for him are ones that she can't...she won't share. When she's...a part of me, will those feelings change?"

Sydney responded softly. "We hope so, Parker."

Jarod glanced at him and then back to the woman. "And you want her to become part of you, Parker? Can you deal with the emotions she'll bring?"

"I...I don't know. But once she's managed to deal with it, then maybe the strength of the emotions will diminish. Then they'll be easier to deal with, I hope."

Jarod looked at Angelo as he sat, crouched at the foot of the bed. His eyes were tightly closed and occasionally tremors shook him. Jarod leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder, at which Angelo opened his eyes and stared up, blankly for a moment, before recognition flared in the blue depths.

"Truth."

"I know." Jarod's voice was soft, avoiding breaking into the muttering of voices at the bed.

"Truth. Tell truth."

"Do you mean Parker or me?"

"Both."

Jarod shook his head. "Angelo, I've faced more truth over the last few days..."

"Jarod, are you ready?"

"Yes, Sydney."

* * * *

"Is that the main reason behind her being the way she is? The control?"

"It…Control would explain a lot of her earlier behaviour."

Jarod grinned half-heartedly. "And she's been watching us all this time."

"It's an interesting phenomenon."

"Why interesting? It's a standard multiple personality, except that the trace has been in control for most of the subject's life. A certain percentage of people with multiple-personalities have that exact situation."

"But the confusion of times - that's not so standard."

Jarod thought back over the earlier period, when his thoughts had covered the same territory. "It could be a product of the concussion."

Sydney nodded slowly "It could. But if it is, then the concussion's continued a lot longer than we thought it would. And no outward signs, no uneven pupils, nothing."

Jarod sighed, even as his mind was busy searching for an answer. "We could..."

"What?"

"Try, with the hypnosis, to bring the younger figure forward to the same age as the adult Parker."

"And, if we did, then the issues would remain unresolved and we'd be right back where we started."

"Hell, Syd, I'm just trying to think of an answer, for God's sake."

Sydney moved over and gently placed one hand on Jarod's shoulder. "I know how you feel. I'm frustrated too, very frustrated. But we can't let the feelings cloud our judgment or we could destroy everything we've gained so far."

* * * *

Sydney watched as Parker slept, recovering from the session. It was in his mind, and in Jarod's also, that she was reaching her limit. Each treatment left her weak and emotional, despite not recalling the substance of the memories that had been recalled. For the next session, the next stage, it had been decided that a change was necessary and Sydney would encourage Parker to try and retain the memories that her subconscious provided but her conscious memory wasn't willing to accept. The most important, naturally, was the assaults, of which they had only briefly heard and on which point the session generally ended, with Parker too emotional to continue.

"Sydney?" Michelle put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't get discouraged. These things take time."

Sydney sighed. "It was so easy with Jarod: just two sessions, one to banish the emotion and then one to recall it. But with Parker - it's been eight sessions and we're virtually back where we began."

"That's not true. She trusts you and she talks about some things. Simply because she hasn't told you everything yet, is that a reason to quit? Would you leave her like this for the rest of her life?"

"Not willingly."

"Well, then..."

* * * *

Jarod stared moodily out of the door and towards the trees that surrounded the house. He was aware that he should go back inside, should relieve Sydney of the pressure of caring for Miss Parker, but he needed some time to himself. It had been months...no, years, since he had been so constantly surrounded by people and he was finding that the pressure was rapidly becoming unbearable.

And there was that tiny, sneaking suspicion that, for the first time in many years, he was actually failing the task before him. He had only ever felt this painful emotion of complete helplessness, of hopelessness once before, when he had been too afraid to face his fears and locate Annie Raines. But then it had been only his feelings that had made the problem appear insurmountable, now it was outside forces, problems that he had no control over.

Then, too, there was the problem of the exhaustion that he was feeling. Generally he allowed himself some time to recover before beginning a new pretend, but this time, and with all of the information he had had to take on, he felt ready to curl up in bed for three weeks straight and not emerge until he felt better. Not, he thought ruefully, that that was likely to happen any time soon.

"Jarod?"

He responded without turning to look at the newcomer. "Yes, Sydney?"

Sydney came and took a seat beside Jarod on the sturdy outdoor furniture. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be a lot better when this whole thing is resolved."

"I understand that this...can't be easy for you either."

Jarod stood up and moved several paces away. He rested his hands on the rail of the veranda and pressed down, trying to rid himself of the tension that he could feel pounding away in his brain. He knew that Sydney wanted to talk, and this wasn't something he felt ready to do. All of the answers he could come up with were generally impractical and his frustration was rapidly taking over. His fingers unconsciously tightened around the rail until his knuckles were white and the skin stretched tightly over them. Sydney looked up in growing concern as the younger man began to sway on his feet and, jumping to his feet, placed both hands on his shoulders.

"Please, Jarod, rest. You won't be able to help Parker unless you're fit."

The Pretender tried to argue, but the exhaustion that was overtaking him meant he meekly allowed Sydney to escort him to his room. It was with a sigh of relief that he sat down on the bed and watched as Sydney slipped off the loafers he wore before lifting his legs up onto the bed, the dark head coming to rest on the soft pillow.

"Sydney?"

"Yes, Jarod?" Sydney's voice was soft and full of compassion.

"Thank you."

The mumbled words were barely discernible and the hand that lay next to Jarod's face was in a fist for several seconds before the fingers opened slightly, his lips parting as he finally allowed himself to relax. Sydney ran a gentle finger down the man's cheek. His son. It wasn't biological, he knew that, but it was still a bond, a connection of sorts, and an important one for them both. With a loving hand, he pulled up a blanket that lay folded on the end of the bed, covering the sleeping figure and then, after closing the blind, pulled the door shut as he left the room, looking at the empath who was hovering outside the door.

"Jarod...sleep."

"Yes, Angelo. Let's leave him."

* * * *

"Sydney, where's Jarod?"

"He's..."

"...right here, Parker."

Sydney spun around. "What are you doing up already?"

Jarod grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, his dimples showing in both cheeks and his eyes bright with amusement. "Oh, please. I went to bed almost twelve hours ago. I haven't had that much sleep in one night for months." He laughed and this sound was more than enough to convince Sydney that he was almost, if not completely back to normal.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay..."

"I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself. And even other people, if I have to."

Jarod turned to Parker as she watched them and the expression in her eyes was recognizable as the look of the adult Miss Parker, suggesting to him that her comments under hypnosis had not been by chance.

* * * *

Jarod watched as Parker's eyelids slowly lifted. Her sleep had been longer than normal, but he knew that a greater emotional scene was to follow. The tears that were already forming as the memories began to return convinced him of the fact.

"Parker?" he prompted softly.

"I...I hate my father! I want him to die! I want to kill him!"

Jarod put his arms around her and held her as she fought to get off the bed. This situation had been anticipated, but no action was to be taken unless Parker was likely to cause an injury of some kind.

"Let me kill him! I hate him! He ruined my life!"

Parker's voice, high in the childish tones, was screaming at the top-most pitch of her lungs and, at the sound, Sydney appeared. Jarod was forced to use most of his strength to keep her on the bed. Her arms were stretched out behind his back as though she saw the hated father standing there and her face, distorted with rage and panic, flowed with a combination of sweat and tears.

At a minute nod from Jarod, Sydney stepped over to the bed. The woman, her mind trapped in that of her other personality and fighting against what she was being forced to confront, never even noticed as the needle was slipped into the vein and the contents injected. She tried to get away from Jarod's hold and continued to cry out but, as the sedative began to work, her tones lost the worst of their fury and became slower, slightly slurred as she struggled to speak.

"He's killed my friends, my family, everything! I... I want him dead! L... let m... me de... destroy h... him! I... I w... w..."

Her muscles gradually lost their strength as her voice died away into silence and a moment later her limp body sank down so that her head came to rest on Jarod's shoulder. Her arms dangled loosely down his back and her hair, a tangled and sweaty mess, hung down her own as her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and more regular. Jarod gently placed her back on the mattress and stood up, taking several deep breaths as his concerned eyes scanned her face.

"I know it's unpleasant to go through that," Sydney's voice was soft. "But I think it's necessary. She's going to have to face this before she can get over it. The very worst thing would be if, in her anger, she were to hurt someone, especially herself. You'd never forgive yourself...and I wouldn't either. Nor would she."

Jarod turned and looked Sydney in the eye. "What do you feel about her? You've always been like a father to me, and lately I'd begun to feel that for at least some of that time, you've reciprocated those feelings. But what about her?"

Sydney moved over to the window and stared out of it without a word, but Jarod wasn't going to be put off that easily. He moved over and, standing behind his former mentor, placed one hand on each shoulder and forcibly turned the man around. "Well?"

"I...Jarod, it's difficult to explain."

"You mean you've never tried to explain it to yourself."

Sydney tried to smile. "You know me too well. You're right, I never have."

"But she was more to you than just a subject?"

"She was never a subject."

Sydney sighed but, seeing that Jarod would not be denied, he moved over to where two chairs and a table had been placed in the corner. As he sat, his eyes traveled to the unconscious figure on the bed and he stared at her.

"She was much more. Parker's... been in the Centre for as long as I can remember. Catherine brought her there almost from the day she was born. I can't recall a time when she wasn't running around underfoot." He smiled briefly at the memory. "But after you came to the Centre, she was limited in where she could go. I still remember how angry she got about that. Her temper then was as...energetic as it is now."

Jarod smiled but, not wanting to interrupt the tirade, remained silent as Sydney continued. "Parker...was always close to her parents. Her father once said never to mention the death of his wife to him. But she never had to tell me that. It just wasn't something she encouraged, it was her manner - you know what I mean?"

Jarod nodded wordlessly and Sydney continued.

"I...she would often come and watch me work. It wasn't something that her parents allowed or encouraged but I never minded. She would sit and chatter while I worked - it was fun. In the end, I guess I saw her as a part of the family that I wanted. She was always there, coming early in the morning and only leaving when one of her father's sweepers took her home. Knowing that it was always to an empty house, often I'd take her myself. You can imagine what she began to mean to me after a while. She was the daughter I never had, like you were the son. You were my family, the two of you. You meant more to me than...well, anything."

Sydney sighed deeply and, getting up from the chair, moved again over to the window, staring out at the lawn below. "I always justified my actions to myself, even when I let Raines work with you, or saw Parker come to the Centre with cuts and bruises. During the planning with Jacob and Catherine, I was always the passive one. Whatever they suggested, I went along with. I couldn't ever have summoned up enough courage to act alone. And after they...I just felt helpless and wanted to forget that the plans ever even existed."

Sydney shot a pleading look at Jarod. "Can you understand how hard that was, to see what both of you went through and to do nothing for so many years? I've been tormented by wanting to have you back at the Centre with me, and yet terrified of what would happen to you if you returned. And although it was a comfort that Parker was there, that she was safe because they needed her, I lived in fear of what would happen if you were brought back and she had no use for the Triumvirate. They have no need for spare wheels, as you’re well aware."

Sydney ran out of words. Jarod, too, was speechless, trying to absorb all of the information that he had just received, despite that fact that he had been aware of some of it for many months or years. His eyes as he looked up were full of both tears and understanding but Sydney couldn't look at his former protégée and so missed the emotion.

"When I first saw...my father," Jarod's voice broke but he continued, "my first thought was to wonder if he could ever become as dear to me as you are."

Finally Sydney turned and saw the expression in the face that was turned up to him from where Jarod sat. As the younger man stood, his slightly superior inches meant that he could look down on his substitute father. Sydney turned away as a lump of emotion came into his throat, but Jarod, grabbing his shoulders, turned him back and the two embraced, not as teacher and student, or man to man, but as father to son, expressing fully the depths of their emotions.

Suppressed Memories
Part 3


Jarod sat, his hands wrapped around a mug, watching as Nicholas, Debbie and Angelo played outside the house.

"I know you didn't want to use the drug," Sydney placed one hand on Jarod's shoulder, "but I really didn't feel that there was a choice. If she'd hurt herself, or someone else - "

"I know." Jarod smiled. "I wasn't really thinking about that. Actually I was just wondering - what's it like to have a family?"

Sydney sat opposite him. "I'm not sure I understand, Jarod."

"What's it like to have people to depend on, like you have Michelle? I guess, in all my time of wondering whether anyone would ever want me, I didn't think about it any further. I know that you and Michelle have been talking about this situation and," Jarod smiled knowingly at his former mentor, "probably also a little about the future."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sydney tried not to look conscious of the truth, however he couldn't fully hide the secret smile.

"I'm not going to bother trying to make you deny it. But, Sydney, I want to know: how... what's it like to have someone like that?"

Sydney immediately sobered and tried to think of an answer that would satisfy Jarod. It was, he knew, a deeper question than it seemed, as many of the younger man's questions were, and he needed a more satisfactory answer.

"Sydney... Jarod! Jarod!"

The interruption ended the conversation as Broots burst into the room. Jarod had calculated that the drug that Parker had received would last for several hours and Broots had offered to stay in the room, giving the other two men a break. Both men looked up sharply, but only Jarod responded.

"What is it, Broots?"

"She...she's awake! She knows me! She's..."

"Okay! All right!" The words were yelled over his shoulder as Jarod went up the stairs, two at a time, closely followed by Sydney.

"Jarod, you said it..."

"I know I did, Sydney. I can't help but wonder..." He fell silent as he entered the room and saw the figure lying on the bed, eyes closed. Reaching out, he placed one hand gently on her arm. "Parker?"

The eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. The expression was undoubtedly that of the adult Miss Parker and Jarod, eyes narrowing, tried to work out what had caused this change.

"It's okay, Jarod. I'm only here because of the drug you administered." The voice spoke in a dreamy, singsong tone and the smile was faint. "I'll be gone when she wakes, but for now, I'm here." Jarod sat down in the chair beside the bed, aware that Sydney had entered the room behind him. The Pretender’s voice was full of curiosity.

"What is it, Parker?"

"She's not dealing with all of the emotions that you're trying to make her face. If you're not careful, she might crack under the pressure."

Sydney spoke up. "We're dealing with it the best we can. If we don't confront this now, it might never be dealt with. Do you want the situation you've been facing for so long to go away or to continue the way it was?"

"But... it's so hard." The words were soft and a single tear trickled down her face in accompaniment to the whisper.

"I know, Parker." Jarod took her hand in both of his. "I know."

He watched as her eyelids drooped, not understanding what circumstances had allowed her to speak with them but thankful for the flash of insight into what she was feeling and which he could or would not understand.

* * * *

June 23, 1969
""Love must be completely sincere. Hate what is evil, hold on to what is good." (Romans 12:9)"

Broots stared down at the Bible quotation. Having never met Catherine Parker, he had not looked through the diary; however now he hoped that it might give him an indication of something he could do to help. Although he was used to a fifth-wheelish feeling, in this sort of situation he was desperate to help in some way. The feelings he harbored for the woman made that necessary.

"Oh, Miss Parker, what did he do to you?"

He was unaware that he had spoken aloud and was so deep in thought that he never heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. A hand on his shoulder was the first indication that he was not alone in the room and he felt himself shift several inches out of the chair.

"Sorry, Broots. I thought you'd hear us."

Jarod dropped into a chair without a word as Sydney made the statement. Broots looked up at them. "What was it? How did she suddenly know who I was? What's causing this whole situation?"

Sydney looked over to Jarod, surmising that the Pretender would want to answer this. Jarod's expression confirmed it as the young man thought for several seconds. "You probably won't believe this, but I can try. It's not an easy situation to understand - I don't understand all of it myself, actually. But here goes."

* * * *

Parker stared up at the ceiling of the room. She had known that it was necessary to talk to Jarod, little though she felt comfortable doing so, but she had to make him understand what her younger self was suffering. Her own emotions were, to a certain extent, restricted by the medication that was keeping her other 'self' under sedation and there was a relief to be free of the tension that accompanied full consciousness. It was strange, she thought drowsily, that she was depending on Jarod to help her gain control over her own life so that she could - what? Return him to the Centre? Finally be free, as her father had promised? She wondered if that would still be her desire after the treatment was complete.

* * * *

After Sydney left the room to go back up to the woman, Broots glanced over at Jarod. "That makes sense, but what I don't get is how you got involved with this. All I know is that Miss Parker left the Centre and went home. How do you fit in?"

"I..." Jarod sighed heavily, recalling that night. "I went to her house, to give her something."

The technician lifted the book out of his lap. "The diary?"

Jarod nodded. "As you know, it was the anniversary of Catherine's death and I chose that day because I understood she was going out for the evening with her father, Lyle and Brigitte."

"What's happening with them now?"

Jarod sighed again, his impatience obvious, and Broots, quickly realizing his error, backtracked. "Okay, sorry. Keep going."

"When I got there, I heard arguing. I looked in the window of her living room and saw a guy yelling at her."

"Allan?"

"You know him?"

"We...we've met."

Jarod grinned faintly. "Got a reputation already?"

"He deserves everything bad that anyone ever said about him. I don't get..."

The Pretender’s movement silenced the other man and Jarod arched an eyebrow. "Should I go on?"

"Please."

"I saw him raise his hand, in a threat, and then he hit her - hard enough to send her clear across the room. She slammed her head on the corner of a table and it knocked her out. Allan waited until he saw that she wasn't going to get up and left the room. When I knew he wasn't coming back, I climbed in through the window." Jarod looked at Broots and was somewhat startled to see the expression on his face. "What? What is it?"

"You...you did that? Knowing what she thinks of you? Knowing the danger you it put you in?"

"Broots, Parker's the closest thing I've got to family," Jarod explained patiently. "She's also one of only a few real friends that I've made in my life. I had to."

"A...and then?"

"I picked her up and put her on the sofa. When she first saw me, she didn't know who I was but, when I told her, she didn't react in the way I thought she would. It was then that she began talking like a nine-year-old, because that's what she'd become." Jarod fell silent, having run out of words that would express the full anguish and helplessness that he had felt at that moment.

* * * *

"Can't we do what you did to me? Suppress her emotions but let her recall the actual events?"

Sydney placed a hand on Jarod's shoulder as they stood beside the bed. "I know you want to help, to stop her from having to go through this, but you know as well as I do that the only answer is the one we're using. We just have to take things one day at a time."

As he left the room, Michelle appeared beside him. Sydney, both hands in the pockets of his jacket, looked at her as they went down the stairs. "Why are you here?"

She slipped her arm around his. "To help you. To give you the support you need to get through this."

"Sometimes I feel like this is never going to end. We could be here for ever."

"There are worse things that could happen." She smiled at him. "At least you'd have your family together."

"My...?"

He stopped and looked at her. Then, suddenly, he kissed her.

* * * *

Jarod watched as Miss Parker gradually came around from the sedative. The memories, he had estimated, would be slow in returning, giving her time, they hoped, to deal with them, and so he sat, holding her hand and waiting.

"Jarod?" Although her eyes were still closed, her hand moved in his.

"Yes, Parker, I'm here." Thank goodness, it was the young Parker. The older had been correct; it seemed she couldn't appear during periods of full consciousness.

"D’you hate my Daddy too?"

"For what he did, yes."

"Do I..." The eyes fluttered open and she focused on him. "Do I have to see him again? 'Cause I don't want to, not ever again in my life." Awkwardly, still slightly hampered by the effects of drug, she crawled over the bed to him and, as he sat down on the mattress, pulled herself into his lap. Resting her head against his shoulder, he pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her.

"Parker, you only have to see him if you want. I'm not going to force you."

"I love you, Jarod. More than I love my Daddy."

"Why did you stop liking me, Parker? Do you remember when you stopped liking me?" Jarod prompted gently, wondering what her response would be, hoping that dealing with the smaller issues would help her deal with the larger ones.

"Daddy said...you didn't like me anymore." The confused mind had no difficulty in jumping forward and recalling the scene in her father's office.

"Angel, I have to show you something."

The DSA was slipped into the machine and started up.

"I don't understand." Sydney's voice betrayed his confusion. "You and she got along so well. What's gone wrong?"

The small boy was curled up in the corner of what looked like a bedroom, a pillow held tightly against his chest. "I hate her! I never want to see her again! D’you hear me? Never!" The pillow came flying in Sydney's direction and the man had to duck to avoid being hit by it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course I'm sure!"

A button touched and the screen was blank, but Parker had continued to stare at it, tears rolling down her face, until her face took her by the shoulder and led her from the office.

Jarod stared at the screen of the computer. Broots had finally found the DSA in the Centre's record and had downloaded it using a program that would hide his journeys into the mainframe.

"I...don't remember ever saying that." Jarod looked up at Sydney. "When did it happen?"

"It didn't - as such." Sydney opened another ffile. "This was what you can most probably remember."

The machine hummed into life and Jarod watched a very different scene unfold in front of him.

"As an important member of Congress, it's important for us to understand what he's feeling. We need to know what he might do or say. Can you show us that?"

Jarod watched as the young figure on the screen closed his eyes, recalling the gradual summoning of understanding that followed, until he could become the character he had been instructed to create. The eyes slowly opened but now the expression in them was strange and, somehow, the entire face looked as if it belonged to another person. Broots gasped in shock as he witnessed the total transformation, no longer wondering at the desire of the Centre to have Jarod returned to them. With powers like this, he was certainly a very valuable entity. The voice that came clearly through the DSA player speakers was unrecognizable.

"I need her back with me! I want her here. I need her to know that I love her."

"So you want her to stay with you?" Sydney's voice was calm.

"I...I...Yes! Wait! No! No, I don't! I never want her to come into my life again!"

"I don't understand. You and she got along so well. What's gone wrong?"

"I hate her! I never want to see her again! Do you hear me? Never!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course I'm sure!"

Sydney pressed another button and the picture faded but Jarod's eyes remained glued to the screen.

"So Mr Parker used that SIM to convince his daughter that I never wanted to see her again. That was why, the day before she left for Japan..."

"Angry...sad...wanted friend...scared of Daddy." Angelo looked up as he spoke.

"Yes, Angelo. She was always scared of him and I never saw it. I never did one single thing to save her from it!" Jarod hunched his shoulders miserably. "I couldn't even see there was anything wrong. How could I have completely missed something like that, something that obvious? I never even tried to get her to tell me why she suddenly stopped being friendly to me after so long." He stood up, ignoring the fact that the chair spun out from behind him and ended up on its side on the floor. "Why didn't I ask? Why didn't she tell me? Couldn't she realize that I would have at least tried to understand! I..." Jarod rounded on Sydney. "Why didn't I ever realize?"

"Jarod, you can't blame yourself for this. Parker's always been taught not to show her emotions. She wouldn't have told you what she felt, even if her father hadn't threatened her." He placed one hand on each of Jarod's shoulders. "It's not your fault."

Jarod looked up at Sydney without speaking. His eyes betrayed the fact that the other man's arguments had been in no way convincing.

* * * *

"Jarod, can I go outside to play?"

A little surprised by the request, Jarod thought for several seconds. "Well, not today. How about you stay in the house today? Maybe tomorrow you can go outside. I wouldn't want you to get sick again."

She looked up at him as he stood at the side of the bed and then suddenly threw both arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

"Jarod?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you adopt me?"

He pulled back a little and looked down at her, a startled expression appearing on his face. "What? What did you say?"

"I want you to adopt me. My Daddy... I don't want to go back to him - what he did to me. Please, Jarod, I want to stay here, with you!" She turned her face into his stomach and burst into tears. "I'm scared of him. He plays games that hurt really bad! And he says that it's a secret - but Momma used to tell me secrets and they didn't hurt. I never cried after Momma told me secrets. Daddy says I shouldn't cry, but I do."

The tears that flooded from her eyes soaked the front of Jarod's black t-shirt but he didn't notice.

"Please, Jarod. Adopt me. Take me away from him."

Her voice broke off as the sobs made speech impossible. Jarod loosened his grip on her and gently sat down on the bed. She threw both arms violently around his neck and as her head rested on his shoulder he could feel the sobs that shook her entire body.

"Parker, look at me." The tear-stained face turned to his bore virtually no resemblance to the calm, composed features that he usually saw and he stroked her hair. "You don't ever have to go back to your Daddy if you don't want to."

"P-promise?"

"I promise."

She snuggled back into his neck. "I love you, Jarod."

He hesitated for a second. "I love you too, Parker."

* * * *

"Parker?" Sydney's voice began calmly.

"Jarod, did you mean what you said?" The figure lying on the bed, now deep in the hypnotic trance, didn't open her eyes, but Jarod could easily picture the pleading expression that would have crossed her face, and smiled as he responded.

"Yes, Parker. I did."

"It will help her to know that."

"Her? Or you too?"

There was a short period of silence. "I find it difficult, after so long with our unique situation, to accept that idea. But I think you're right. It will help me, too."

Sydney looked quizzically at Jarod but the younger man shook his head. Sydney had to be content with the hope that Jarod would explain those comments to him later. He proceeded with the planned session.

"Parker, I want to ask you to do something."

"For you, Syd? Or for me?"

"For us all."

"All right." The voice was quiet, composed, but both men wondered how composed it would remain after hearing his suggestion.

"I want you to take on some of the memories which your younger self has. Now, while you can, I want you to relive some of the memories that are haunting the other part of you."

"I...I can't." The sentence was little more than a whisper.

"Parker, we can't do this without help from you." Jarod's tones tried to inspire in her the courage that she lacked to attempt the feat.

Sydney reiterated what the younger man had said. "Please, Parker. We'll stop if it gets too bad, but we need to try this."

"Okay." The voice was hushed and strained with emotion,

"I want you to go back to the first time that your father abused you."

"I...I can't."

Jarod moved over and placed one hand on the woman's tense fist. "Try, Parker."

"Tell me about what he's doing to you," Sydney offered.

"I...I'm in bed." The voice of the adult slowly faded, gradually taking on the child's tones. "When the door opens, it wakes me up. I see him coming in and he comes over to the bed. He...he gets into it with me. I scream but - he tells me Momma's still at work. He tells me that if I scream again, he'll...he'll..."

"What, Parker? He'll what?"

"He'll kill Jarod."

Jarod's hand paused in its comforting touch, but it was only momentary. His face was pale, but he managed to make no comment.

"He knows that Jarod and I are friends... He... touches me. It hurts badly, but he says that it's supposed to hurt like that. He says that I can't become a woman unless I get this hurt. I don't want it but I'm too scared to make a noise."

She was becoming increasingly agitated and Sydney called on the image that he had had the foresight to create.

"Parker, I want you to leave the bedroom now and go to the safe room. Do you remember the safe room, with your Momma? Are you there now?"

"Yes." The whisper was hardly audible as Jarod and Sydney exchanged glances.

"Parker, I want you to find a really nice memory of your Momma. Can you do that? Find a really nice memory and give it to the other part of you, in exchange for the memory that you've taken away. And I want you to always remember the connection between those two memories. Have you done that?"

"Yes."

"And now, every time you remember the bad memory, you'll remember the good one as well. Can you do that, too?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now I want you to come out of the memory..."

* * * *

September 15, 1966
""Lord, you are a God who punishes; reveal your anger! You are the judge of all men; rise and give the proud what they deserve!" (Psalms 94:1-2) Sometimes I wonder if my husband uses outside forces to get what he wants. Just before I fell asleep last night I could have sworn that I heard my daughter scream, but when I asked him this morning, he denied hearing it. I wonder also why I was unable to summon enough energy to get out of bed. I have never had that problem before, even on the brink of sleep, when she suffered nightmares as a small child. Could I have been drugged?"

Jarod have an exclamation and pushed the diary across to Sydney before getting out of his chair and pacing the room.

"Death is too good for that bastard!" The growl was almost inhuman, coming from deep within. "When I think how many people's lives he's destroyed in his climb to power. And he wants that power from anyone, even a six-year-old girl. His own daughter, in fact."

"You hadn't read that entry before?"

"I haven't read many of the earlier entries. I opened it at the middle, thinking that the beginning wasn't likely to contain that much information." Jarod glared blackly at the floor. "Obviously I was wrong."

"Be careful, Jarod. You can't just assume that what Catherine writes is totally accurate. I'm inclined to believe her, but she could have been getting sick and so not been as aware as she would normally have been."

"Do you really believe that?" Jarod rounded on Sydney and slammed both palms down on the table, making the glasses jump. " Do you think that she would have written that if she didn't believe that it was true? Do you?"

Sydney looked down at the book, and then back up at Jarod, his voice soft and attempting to be calm. "No, I don't."

* * * *

Jarod sat and watched as the wool, quickly slipping between Michelle's fingers, was crocheted into a pattern. The delicate white fibers were already looking like a pile of snowflakes in her lap and it reminded Jarod of his discussion with Miss Parker, so many years earlier, of the mysteries of that substance and, eventually, of his temporary escape from the Centre so that he could see it for himself. The room was silent except for the clicking of the needles. In the room above, Sydney was striving to make the connections that the woman needed in order to recall her memories without the pain associated with them. It had been decided that Jarod should come into the session only at the end, and be seen as a figure with whom safety and security could be recognized. This was not a circumstance that pleased him but, after some persuasion, he had agreed with Sydney's argument and waited below for the signal that would call him up to the room. He sat for only a few minutes, however, before resuming pacing the length of the room.

"Where did the others go?"

"Shopping, Jarod." Michelle forced a calm tone into her voice, not willing to add to his concerns by speaking any of hers. "They went to the store you suggested."

"Why?"

"Well, mostly because we had no milk, little bread and only enough meat for tonight. But also to get away from the house."

"I only hope it's safe."

Michelle put down her work and looked up at him. "But they're going to the place you suggested, Jarod."

He sat down with a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, Michelle. It's just... this is probably the longest that I've spent anywhere since I got out and I guess I'm a little edgy."

"A little?"

He blushed and tried not to grin. "Okay, a lot."

* * * *

Sydney finished the session, knowing that Jarod had not needed his summons and was standing behind him. Rising from his chair, he gave the younger man a look that combined hope and concern. Jarod's response was to turn immediately to the bed, knowing that the session had been only partly successful. Sydney sighed and left the room. Slowly descending the stairs, he stood in the doorway, watching the wool slip through Michelle's fingers. The slow, regular movements helped to calm the tension that he felt building up inside.

"You can't expect everything to go smoothly, Sydney. You have to be patient."

Michelle's eyes never lifted from her work as he and sat in the chair that Jarod had occupied. For lack of anything else to do, he picked up Catherine's diary and began flipping through it.

April 11, 1968
""You will listen and listen, but not understand; you will look and look but not see." (Acts 28:26) When I accosted my husband with the drugs, he denied it. It makes me wonder if anything he has ever told me, in all our years of marriage, was the truth. And I can't help but wonder if her has ever given our daughter the same medication. I often feel like there's something she won't tell me. One day we'll get away from the Centre and start a new life - with no secrets and no pressure. When I look at all of the children still trapped within the Centre and everything that they are forced to do every day, I could cry."

Sydney looked up as Jarod entered the room.

"I failed. Everything she expected of me. I couldn't do it."

His voice was a dull monotone and his eyes had no life in them. Michelle looked at him and then dropped her work as she jumped up to put her arms around him. She felt him trembling slightly and her eyes pleaded with Jarod to try to find an answer. Having never seen the man in that state, Jarod hesitated, momentarily unsure of what to do. He scanned the writing in the diary to understand what had prompted the thought in Sydney's head and, in a flash of insight, tried to give the best comfort he could. Kneeling on the floor at Sydney's feet, he looked up into the older man's face.

"Syd, we'll do it. Together. There is a way to get her past all that - I know there is. And we'll find it. It's just a matter of time. I understand your frustration - hell, I'm frustrated too, but we will do it. We have to. We can't give up now."

Sydney, when he looked up, appeared to have aged many years in the space of several minutes. "But you don't understand. She trusted me. She wanted me to save them - and I... I couldn't do it."

"And yet she thought you were even braver than she was."

The words were soft, but Sydney felt them and understood the truth of them. However it wasn't enough to make him able to deal with his first serious realization of the magnanimity of his crimes, as he saw them. The stress and exhaustion, too, were beginning to take their toll. The trembling continued and in Jarod's professional mind he had already had more than enough. A nod at Michelle and she began to encourage him out of the room and up into the bedroom they shared. Jarod, meanwhile, quickly mixed up a powerful dose of sedative. Little though he generally liked administering drugs, he knew that Sydney was unlikely, even in his current state of exhaustion, to sleep naturally, and sleep was the one thing he needed to get past the mental block he had created within his own mind.

Going up to the room with the tray, he handed an undoctored mug to Michelle and went over to the bed, helping Sydney to sit up and slipping an arm around his shoulders for support.

"Here. This might help."

Sydney eyed the mug suspiciously as it was placed in his hands. "What is it?"

"Coffee."

"Oh good. I thought..." He drained the mug, which Jarod had deliberately cooled slightly so that Sydney would have no excuse for not drinking it.

"You thought what?" Jarod smiled after accepting the empty mug. "That I would drug you? What a thought!" He watched as Michelle raised her eyebrows and nodded very slightly. She smiled before taking the mugs and going downstairs, realizing that it was best to leave Sydney with Jarod.

"Not...exactly." Sydney closed his eyes as the weariness that he had, through willpower, been holding back, began to sweep over him in waves. He could feel as he was gently lowered back down against the pillow and looked up as the younger man moved over and shut the blinds, darkening the room considerably. "Why... are you helping her?"

Jarod smiled. "You taught me to could help people, what I could do for them. I couldn't turn my back on someone who was my friend for so many years, even if our situations have changed a little over time."

Sydney blinked several times before his eyelids fell shut. He forced them open again and Jarod, placing one hand on his arm as he rose to his feet, spoke softly. "You're allowed to sleep, Syd. Nothing will happen for a few hours - it never does. And you'll be better afterwards anyway."

The older man nodded drowsily as the drug began to take effect. Jarod watched as his eyes finally closed and Sydney's mouth opened with a soft sigh, his head rolling to one side. Standing, the young man pulled a blanket up over the inert figure and, bending down, kissed him softly on the forehead before leaving the room.

* * * *

"Better?"

"Mm hmm." Sydney yawned and then stretched, feeling more relaxed than he had for some time.

Michelle moved over and sat on the bed as he made room for her, smiling as he took her hand. "I'm not really surprised."

"Why?" Sydney's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What time is it?"

"Four o'clock..."

"That's not so bad."

"...on Thursday afternoon."

"What?! But it was...wasn't it...Wednesday?" Sydney suddenly sat upright in bed and stared at Michelle and then at Jarod, who had appeared in the doorway and who was grinning at him.

"Can I help it if you were tired?"

The words sounded innocent, but Sydney had known Jarod long enough not to be taken in by his looks.

"What did you do? You said you wouldn't give me anything."

"I said nothing of the kind," Jarod argued. "My words were 'What a thought!' There was no denial there, but there wasn't any admittance, either. And you do have to agree that you're much better than you were."

Sydney tried to look stern but knew that his former protégée had been correct in his assumptions. Throwing back the blankets that lay on top of him, Sydney was about to get up, but Michelle, in response to a glance from Jarod, stopped him.

"The stuff I gave you won't wear off properly for a few more hours yet," the younger man explained. "So you'll have to stay where you are and let us look after you for a bit longer."

"But...Parker?"

"She's fine. I left her downstairs watching television. Nicholas introduced himself and they're getting on like a house on fire."

"But I thought we decided..."

"I know, but she does need someone other than the two of us, and Angelo would be too much of a risk while Broots is busy keeping Debbie out of trouble. But, like I said, they're getting on very well."

Sydney lay back against the pillows that Michelle had piled up behind him with a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry. It's just that I'm..."

"Worried? I know. But we won't achieve anything unless we actually instigate a few changes." He grinned. "And now, if you don't mind, I have a meal to cook."

"Cook, you?"

"Of course!" Jarod pretended to look offended but Michelle laughed and spoiled his mock anger.

"Sydney, Jarod's been cooking about half the meals you've eaten. Generally the ones you commented favorably on."

As Jarod went down the stairs, chuckling to himself, he could hear the laughter that followed that remark and was still grinning as he entered the kitchen. Miss Parker looked up as he appeared before running over and demanding to know what he was going to make for dinner.

"What do you want?"

"Hmm…pizza?"

Jarod laughed. "You needed to tell me earlier in the day for me to make that. It's too late now - but maybe tomorrow. I can do chicken or spaghetti. Which?"

"Chicken."

"Okay."

She returned to the television but as Jarod put the meat into the oven she spoke again. "Can I go up and see Sydney now?"

"Not yet. Maybe you can take his dinner up to him with me, though."

"Is he going to have dinner in bed?"

"You've been sick and haven't we been giving you dinner in bed?"

"Yes."

"So we'll do the same for him."

Miss Parker giggled. "It's treating him like a baby."

Jarod raised an eyebrow. "So are you saying we treated you like a baby?"

She turned back to the television, but glanced over her shoulder at him once more with a grin. "Well...no."

* * * *

When the dinner was prepared, Jarod walked behind the woman as she carefully carried the laden tray upstairs. Michelle and Sydney were talking quietly but they looked up as Miss Parker appeared in the doorway.

"Well, it's about time. I was getting hungry."

Michelle came over and took the tray, after which Miss Parker sat on the bed and looked up at Sydney.

"Are you better now?"

"Much better." He smiled. "How are you?"

"Bored." She kicked petulantly at the bed covers. "I want to go outside."

Sydney looked up at Jarod, who nodded. He then looked back at Miss Parker as Michelle put the tray on his lap.

"Well, what about tomorrow?"

"Really?" She began to bounce on the bed and Sydney had to pick up the tray to prevent it being overturned.

"On one condition," Jarod grinned. "That you leave Sydney alone until tomorrow and that you eat your whole dinner and go to bed early tonight."

"That's three conditions," the childish voice complained.

"Maybe so, but you have to fulfill all of them to go outside tomorrow."

She jumped off the bed and grumpily headed out of the door. Jarod grinned at Sydney, who couldn't help smiling back, even as he spoke. "Bully."

* * * *

Jarod's eyes scanned the information that had appeared on the screen. The early morning sunlight had begun to light the room, providing sufficient illumination for him to extinguish the lamp that sat on the table beside him. He half-turned at the sound of the footsteps in the doorway in time to see Sydney appear.

"Up already?" the psychiatrist prompted.

"That's the question I should be asking you."

"Well, after twenty-four..."

"...forty-eight..." interposed Jarod quickly.

"...hours in bed, I felt that was probably sufficient."

"But you feel better." It wasn't posed as a question. Jarod hadn't known Sydney for so many years that he needed confirmation of the fact.

"Most definitely, although I hate to admit that you were right."

"I figured that after almost four months and countless sessions, you probably did need the break."

Sydney passed over this comment and pulled up a chair. "What are you doing?"

"Searching."

The older man arched an eyebrow. "Are you being particularly annoying this morning or have you always been like this and I've never noticed it before?"

Jarod thought for several seconds, a small smile beginning to curl the corners of his mouth. "Well, not having any external images of myself, I don't think I'd be the best person to ask."

"I...Just forget it. I don't even really want to know."

"Well, to get back to your original question," Jarod pressed several keys and the image on the screen changed, "these are a series of reports I found two weeks ago. They relate to a series of deals around the Centre dating from 1959. These are pages that detail connections between the Centre, the FBI, the CIA and the KGB, but I haven't been able to work out the whole situation yet."

The screen filled with words, some of which Sydney understood, but the rate at which they flashed up left him bemused. "It would help if my Russian was better than it is. Can you explain that to me?"

"I'm not sure about all of the details, but it seems as though the Centre played a major role in the Cold War for virtually the entire forty-five years. And they also got a large amount of money for it."

"And what were you looking at when I came in?"

"This." Jarod typed several keys and the screen filled with FBI reports. "They don't give much information but I'm going to keep looking."

"And the KGB?"

More files appeared. "The Russian records aren't as recent or as good as the American ones but there's certainly something there. I just have to find it."

* * * *

"Jarod, I got the file you wanted."

The Pretender turned from his computer and almost snatched the paper from the technician, who sat down on a nearby chair and watched the prodigy.

"They were in on everything."

"I know," Broots agreed. "And they scooped a packet for it, too."

Jarod looked up and tried to smile. "That doesn't really surprise me. The day the Centre does something for which they don't get something back is the day I might begin to forgive them for everything else they've done."

"Exactly how many countries have done deals with the Centre?"

"I wouldn't like to guess. Mafia branches in most places have bought information from the Centre and now, from this," he tapped the pages, "it seems that even some of the secret governmental organizations in America, like the CIA, might have got details from them at some point too."

"All overseen by the Triumvirate."

"Well...possibly..." Jarod demurred.

"How 'possibly'?"

"From what I've been reading, it seems like some Centre operatives have been nicely lining their pockets without the knowledge of the Triumvirate."

Broots’ eyes widened. "But that would be asking for trouble."

Jarod stood and began pacing the room, before suddenly turning and staring at Broots and then at the paper he held in his hand. "Unless they were so important to the Centre that they couldn't be removed."

"There wouldn't be many people in that situation."

"I can think of one."

Sydney leaned over Broots' shoulder and pointed at a spot on the screen.

"What's that?"

Jarod looked at the abbreviation. "MVD? The forerunner to the modern KGB - it stands for 'Ministry of Internal Affairs'. It existed from 1946 until 1960, when the KGB took over. The Centre's had a long history with them." He picked flicked a finger an another file on the screen. "That's a list of the main contracts that they were involved in. Only the main projects and just a list of closely-typed names in three columns, but it extends for thirty pages."

"Thirty?"

"Incredibly, yes. It deals with nuclear placements, the most important internal affairs memos, just about everything really."

"Jarod?"

He spun around in the chair to see the woman in the doorway and smiled at the eagerness in her eyes. "Morning, Parker."

"Can I really go outside today?"

He looked her up and down. "If you have a shower and get dressed first."

She immediately turned away, walking back towards the door, but a soft whine was audible. "Oh!"

Although the word had been quiet, the three in the room heard it and grinned as they turned back to their work.

* * * *

"Jarod?" The woman’s eyes were eager, and the Pretender smiled in response.

"Ready?"

"Uh huh."

Sydney and Broots watched as Jarod and Miss Parker went down the stairs at the front of the house.

"How's she doing?" the technician prompted.

"Much better. She doesn't have the fear of the idea of her father that she used to have, and she doesn't need some sort of security symbol as she did at first."

"You mean like a security blanket?"

"Exactly."

"So is the therapy nearly finished?"

"Well, there's still some way to go - but I do have to say that it's happened a lot faster than I thought it would. I mean these things can sometimes take upwards of two years."

Broots looked over at his co-worker. "But from some material that Jarod showed me, a large part of that is development of trust between the therapist and the patient. There was no need for that here."

Sydney remained silent as they watched the two figures for several minutes and then Broots spoke again. "I don't really get why Jarod is carrying his gun. I would have thought that this place was fairly safe."

"Maybe he thinks that we're not as safe as he's letting on."

"Maybe."

* * * *

The two figures approached the stream that ran down from the hills behind the house, winding through the forest that surrounded it. Miss Parker's eyes, full of that childish light that had appeared months earlier, but was now slowly fading, lit up at the sight of the clear, running water. Jarod, however, was cautious. It was, he thought, nothing but the natural reaction to being cooped up for so long; still it was a feeling he couldn't rid himself of. When he heard the footstep, he realized that his instincts had been correct.

"Stand still."

The words were whispered but time had taught her the importance of obedience and there was, perhaps, the memory of a time when her father had given the same command. Jarod silently took several paces away and heard the noises that indicated the movement of a less than expert tracker through the trees. Mentally, he visualized the house that they had just left, knowing that all of the occupants except for Miss Parker and himself were still there. This, then, was someone else. Jarod took the small silencer out of his pocket and, out of Miss Parker's line of vision, screwed it on to the gun in his hand. He had a feeling that the sight of such a weapon might have caused her more distress and this was something that he was determined to avoid if he could help it.

Moving around a clump of bushes, he spotted a man crouching beside the water and the familiarity of the person terrified him. Interference by the Centre was something that he had wanted desperately to avoid. He watched as the figure stood and, like an animal, looked around carefully before kneeling down again and scooping up water in the palm of his hand. Jarod looked carefully at the gun his prey held and, with his eyes, measured the distance that it would fly out of his hand when Jarod shot at him. It wasn't yet far enough for the man not to be able to reach it, should he try.

The man straightened and began slowly making his way downstream, following the direction of the water and assuming that the subject of his search would be there. In mild amusement, strange considering the situation, Jarod shook his head. With modern plumbing techniques there had been no need to build the house on the shores of the river, either at its mouth or at the point where it fed into the large lake.

He recalled, briefly, the weeks of effort that it had taken to build the structure. It had been something he had enjoyed and the company of Thomas had been especially helpful. The conversations they had had regarding Miss Parker came back to him with stunning clarity and he recalled the sadness he had felt at the learning of other man's death. Despite having only seen a photo, Thomas had been determined to get to know the woman for whom he had fallen at first sight. Jarod had found the situation amusing but his warnings regarding Miss Parker's character had acted as a spur to the young builder. The memory of the unnecessary murder fed the flame of anger that was burning in him as he looked down at the figure that was now almost directly below him.

As the figure slipped along the bank, Jarod felt a hand tugging his sleeve and, as he slipped the gun out of sight, turned with an inward curse to see Miss Parker standing there.

"Who is it?" She looked over as she whispered the words but there was no sign of recognition on her face.

"Someone who'll hurt us if he can." Jarod's words produced fear in the eyes that she turned to him. "I want you to go back to the house and tell Sydney, Nicholas and Broots to come here. Go quietly."

She nodded briefly and turned to go back the way they had come. Her feet on the ground were almost silent and Jarod was thankful that he had bought her decent walking shoes two days earlier. But it was probably that shopping trip which had given away their location now. Turning, he watched as the figure moved further away. Jarod was waiting until he was far enough away from the house that its occupants wouldn't hear the shot and the distance was not yet great enough. Although his gun would make no sound, there was no guarantee that the other wouldn't. Turning, Jarod moved almost silently along the top of the ridge that flanked either side of the river and wondered at the man who was foolish enough to walk, almost unprotected, along such an exposed area. Jarod was aware that it would take almost half an hour for anybody else to reach him and he hoped that the situation would be dealt with by then.

* * * *

June 16, 1952
""Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail." (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) The emotions that I'm feeling are almost indescribable. I can't believe it. Only sixteen and my whole life is planned out for me. I know what I want and where I am going. How many other people of my age are that fortunate? There is nothing that could persuade from this path that I have taken. A long life, dedicated to God and his work, with children, many children, to whom I can teach the mysteries of the love of God."

Sydney shook his head at the disappointment of so many of the hopes that she had believed in when she was young. They had discussed that during some of the sessions that they had had as therapist and patient, but never during that time had she revealed the fear that was so obvious on every page of the diary. He wondered if Mr Parker had known about book. Sydney thought that that was unlikely. If he had known, he certainly wouldn't have allowed it to fall into Jarod's hands, either keeping it somewhere safer or simply destroying it.

* * * *

Jarod watched as the figure turned, gun in his hand. Aiming carefully, the Pretender pulled the trigger and watched as the weapon flew through the air and landed on the far shore. Then, as the gun's owner stared wildly around, wringing his hand in pain, Jarod stepped out from behind the tree.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigy." Jarod could detect the fear that was masked by the man's snarl. "What a surprise."

"Hello Lyle."

The man’s blue eyes were a mixture of anger and curiosity. "Where's my sister?"

"Somewhere safe," Jarod assured him. "Concerned? That doesn't sound like you. I thought you had even less emotion than your father."

"My father cares for both of us."

"Well, he certainly paid more attention to her when she was younger. But then I guess it's difficult to rape someone who's stronger and taller than you are. Still, it's been done before."

"Rape? What crap has she been telling you?"

"Only the same 'crap' which is written in Catherine Parker's diary. You do remember Catherine. Your mother."

Lyle felt a shudder go through him as he stepped forward. "Look, Jarod..."

"Careful." Jarod indicated the gun in his hand. "One more step and I'll make a hole in you bigger than the Grand Canyon."

"Come on, let's talk about this. Face to face. Man to man. I sure we can work out a solution."

Jarod kept the gun aimed at Lyle's chest. "The only thing I want to work out is the muscle in my finger that will pull this trigger. I hated you before for what you did to my brother..."

"Kyle? God, are you still worrying about him? Wherever he is, I'm sure he's better off than he was here. Stop living in the past, Jarod."

"I don't live in the past," the Pretender growled, "because I don't have a past. And I'm going to make sure as hell that you don't have a future."

Lyle, for the first time, felt a strange feeling go through him. It was almost like - fear. Fear because he knew that, this time, Jarod was determined not to let him out of this situation alive.

"And you believe my sister when she tells you that the man who loves her would treat her like a prostitute? She tricked you nicely, didn't she?" Lyle gave a snide half-laugh as he spoke.

"Are you saying that I should believe you and not her? That's a joke, right? I've got enough evidence to see your father locked away for the rest of his despicable life, so why should I believe what you tell me? And, more to the point, the proof comes from a person that I've respected and loved, whose memory is revered by so many, and who is, unbelievably, your own mother. Believe you? I wouldn't believe you even if you could prove otherwise yourself."

Lyle stretched one hand slightly backwards, hoping that Jarod would be too intent on the conversation to notice. Finally, after the seconds had dragged on interminably, his hand touched the cold metal of the gun that he kept in his waistband. It had been the first thing his father had given him when they had been reunited as family. Now he withdrew it and, with a rapid movement, swung around with it in his hand.

The first crack startled him and the second was his own response to the first. The pain took several seconds to hit, but the wave of agony that engulfed him as the bullet punctured his lung and sank into his heart made his vision almost instantly go blurry. He heard a dull roaring in his ears that gradually rose and fell and Lyle slowly realized that it was his tattered lung as it struggled to vainly take in air and that the irregular, dull pounding was that of his own heart.

With a numb sense of surprise, he became aware that he was lying facedown in the river, the strength of which was gradually pulling him towards the waterfall. The water around him was a brilliant red but it was only slowly that he realized the redness was his own blood. The roaring was less powerful but had instead been replaced by a bubbling sound and the pounding was gradually becoming slower. The urge to fight death was also fading but, as his legs slipped over the sharp rocks, tearing his tailored trousers, he saw Jarod, clutching at one arm, fall backwards, slamming his head on a tree stump as he hit the ground. Lyle's dying thought was pleasure that he had at least killed the man who had been the bane of his life for so long.

Suppressed Memories
Part 4


Sydney's heart nearly stopped as he viewed the scene. Lyle, his body battered by the waves, was still visible as his jacket prevented him from being dashed over the edge of the waterfall and down into the lake below, but it was on the figure of Jarod that Sydney's eyes were frozen, crumpled on the ground, blood running down his face. The psychiatrist had always known that the younger man wouldn't die passively of an illness - that wasn't in his nature - but Sydney had never thought that he would be there to see the death actually occur. His feet were frozen to the ground and his breath stopped in his throat. His son, however, had run forward and now, his face red from exertion, Nicholas looked up. "He's alive! I can feel a pulse."

The words galvanized Sydney into action and he ran forward to sink on his knees beside the pretender.

"Get Lyle's body. Check he's dead." Sydney didn't recognize the voice as coming from his throat. His hands quickly checked Jarod's arms, legs and head to be certain that there were no other injuries except for the wound to the arm and the knock to the back of his head. Although his hands were rapidly covered in dirt and blood, Sydney never noticed, concentrating instead on trying to revive the unconscious man.

"Come on Jarod, please. Look at me. Wake up. Please!"

Broots and Nicholas, having dragged the corpse from the beating of the waves, now approached the two figures and Nicholas opened the first aid case that he had grabbed when Miss Parker had run up to the house. With deft fingers he wrapped a dressing around the bleeding arm and then, after Broots had wet a handkerchief in the river, gently washed the Pretender's face with the cool cloth.

Standing, Nicholas led his father to the water and washed the worst of the grime off his hands. Wiping a streak of blood from the older man's forehead, Nicholas murmured comforting words into the ear of the still visibly shocked man.

"It's okay, Dad. He'll be fine. It's nothing - a surface wound. They always bleed a lot. He'll need a couple of days to get over the headache and then..."

"But what if he ends up like Parker?" Sydney's secret fear finally burst from him in an anguished cry of fear.

Broots' voice could be heard at that point. "Syd, can you come here?"

His feet moved faster than Sydney had known possible and he looked down at the face, in which the man's eyes were beginning to move under the closed lids.

"Jarod?"

The hand under his moved, tightening its grip on his fingers, and Jarod's tongue slid out of his mouth to moisten his pale lips, before he managed to speak.

"Syd-ney?"

"Yes, Jarod. I'm here."

"Is..." The eyelids slowly lifted and, even as he winced in pain, Jarod tried to sit up. Broots, however, restrained him. "Is Lyle...dead?"

"Yes, Jarod." Nicholas spoke matter-of-factly.

"Good." His eyes slipped shut and his hand went limp in Sydney's.

"Jarod?" The whisper was filled with panic.

"Dad, it's okay," Nicholas assured him. "It's just the concussion. He'll sleep it off and be fine. You know that."

Sydney stared at the ground for several seconds, trying to control his emotions but Broots, getting to his feet as he looked over at Nicholas, brought him back to the present.

"We need to get him back to the house somehow."

"Stretcher?" Nicholas' tone was abrupt and business-like.

"We could make one..."

"We don't have a choice."

* * * *

Michelle had been trying to concentrate on the book she was reading but her eyes had continually strayed to the path down which Sydney and the others had vanished. She looked at the corner of the room, where Miss Parker was watching television but even that could not hold her attention. Finally she saw the group coming through the trees.

"Parker, go up to your room for a while, please."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes please, now." The woman, living in the mind of the little girl, stumped up the stairs, muttering under her breath. Michelle, meanwhile, moved to the front door and threw it open. As the group approached the house, her instinct had been that Nicholas was the one injured but, seeing him carrying one end of the stretcher, her relief made her feel guilty. It wasn't her fault that Nicholas was more important to her than Jarod could ever be, despite the pretender's connection with Sydney, and it was natural that she should be relieved that it was not her son who lay on the stretcher. But the guilt was unavoidable.

Sydney's face was now covered in a mixture of sweat, blood and tears. Nicholas had not had a chance to properly remove it all and his father had been too intent on bringing Jarod back to the house to worry. Michelle held open the door and allowed the group to pass through.

"Where?"

"The bedroom."

Broots nodded and he and Nicholas maneuvered the stretcher up the stairs. The awkward moment of moving the still figure onto the mattress was completed with surprising ease and, fortunately, allowed easy access to the injured arm. Jarod had made no sound as Broots and Nicholas had done it, still lying with his eyes closed, and Sydney had been unable to help, his emotions leaving him only able to clutch at Michelle's hand like a man drowning in the ocean clutching at a rope.

* * * *

Sydney sat on a chair in the corner of the room and stared at the still man on the bed. The concussion, he knew, was unlikely to fully wear off for some time and it had only been two hours since they had carried him up from the riverbank. He found it painful to look at the various bruises that were leeching around from the back of Jarod's head and disfiguring his face. The blow had been a hard one and the rock that had pierced the skin left a gash that had really required stitches, but without the necessary equipment, he had only been able to bandage it tightly and hope that would be enough. That was one of the negative parts of their situation, the inability to alert themselves to other peoples' presence by something as simple as calling a doctor. Sydney wondered how Jarod had managed to survive for so long on his own with those restrictions. He recalled Broots saying something about it during the first months of their hunt for him, but Miss Parker had brushed aside the comment, as she had any suggestion of sympathy for the escapee. Now Sydney glanced over at the technician who sat in the corner as he got to his feet and walked over to the bed.

"Jarod?" He gently shook the Pretender's shoulder.

Broots stared at the doctor from his chair in the corner. "What are you doing?"

Sydney looked at him. "Making sure he'll to wake up. With concussion, especially after being unconscious for as long as he has, we need to make sure that he'll come around. If he won't wake or is badly disoriented, then we need to get him to a hospital, regardless of the consequences."

"Or?"

Sydney sighed and looked up as Nicholas walked into the room. "Jarod might die. Concussion can be fatal."

Broots stared at the floor and Sydney walked over, sitting down as Nicholas took his place beside the bed. With little real medical knowledge, the technician's feelings had been based purely on Jarod's outward appearance and, comforted by having overhearing Nicholas' comments by the river, he had not imagined the potential danger of the injury.

"Jarod." Nicholas leaned over the bed and shook the Pretender slightly harder than his father had done. "Come on, Jarod, wake up."

The injured man groaned softly and moved his head on the pillow. Nicholas had earlier shut the blinds but the light streaming in around the edges of the curtains provided illumination. Jarod's eyelids slowly lifted and the younger man smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

Jarod smiled faintly in response, swallowing thickly. "Like…crap."

"Do you know who I am?"

"Nicholas."

"Okay, great. And the day?"

Jarod's brow furrowed briefly in concentration. "Friday."

"Do you know where you are?"

His eyes roved around the room. "House. Parker."

"Well done. Do you hurt anywhere?"

"Arm."

"Anywhere else?"

"Head."

"Is that it?"

Jarod thought for a moment. "Uh huh."

"Do you want anything for it?"

His head moved slightly from side to side.

"Okay, just relax. We're going to look after you."

The Pretender sighed, his eyes closing immediately and Nicholas turned from the bed to the other two men in the room. "It looks good. If we keep doing that for the next few hours, he should be fine."

Broots cleared his throat nervously. "You didn't say that he could..."

Sydney glanced at Broots and nodded reluctantly. "I know. Some people recover from that sort of thing very easily and it seemed better to wait until we saw what happened. He was also very alert during the conversation by the river and that was a good sign."

Broots looked at Nicholas. "And how did you know what to do?"

Nicholas smiled. "When you teach kids, it's a good idea to know enough to treat them if something goes wrong. It's much easier to get a good job with solid first aid qualifications."

"What's this?" Sydney indicated the glass that Nicholas had set in front of him when he entered the room, and which his son had just forcibly placed in his hand.

"Something for your headache," the young man stated firmly.

"How do you know that I...?"

"Dad, you still look as pale as when we came back two hours ago. Just drink it, it'll do you good."

* * * *

April 13, 1970, 7am.
""I saw the Lord before me at all times. He is near me, and I will not be troubled. And so I am filled with gladness, and my words are full of joy. And I, mortal though I am, will rest assured in hope, because you will not abandon me in the world of the dead; you will not allow your faithful servant to rot in the grave. You have shown me the paths that lead to life, and your presence will fill me with joy." (Acts 2:25-28) If I am to die then I shall hope to do so bravely, facing my accusers and basking in the glow of the light of God."

Sydney's head jerked up from his chest, the diary fell to the floor and he found himself breathing rapidly. He couldn't go to sleep. He had to stay awake in case Jarod woke and needed something. With a start, he saw the figure sitting in the other chair of the room, but the dimness of the lamp and his own weariness made distinguishing features difficult. The other man spoke in Nicholas’ voice.

"Dad, go to bed. I'll stay here for a few hours and then Broots said to wake him up to take his turn."

"How's Parker?"

"Fine. But there was one point this afternoon..."

The psychiatrist was instantly alert. "What happened?"

"She...looked at me and her eyes were - different. Older, I think. I can't really explain. Then she spoke, and her voice was different too. More mature, like that of an adult rather than a child."

Sydney nodded slowly. "I think... we might be reaching the end of the road. If she can gain control - even for short periods - then integration could be finally within reach."

"Integration?"

"The joining, or unity, of the personalities. It's the final step, the last piece of the puzzle."

"And that would mean...?"

Sydney looked at his son as he got up to check the man on the bed. "Once Jarod gets over this, we can start planning the next move."

* * * *

"Sydney?" The younger man slowly opened his eyes to look at his former teacher, who was leaning over the bed, his voice soft with compassion and understanding.

"Yes, Jarod. I'm here."

"I did it again - I killed someone." The tears began to roll down Jarod's cheeks as he looked up. "I killed a man."

The older man sat on the edge of the bed and gently wiped away the tears. "And if you hadn't, we would all have been killed."

Jarod looked up from the pillow. "What?"

"There was a slip in Lyle's pocket from the Triumvirate. It was an execution order. Both Raines and Mr Parker signed it. Lyle, under their directive, was coming to kill us all."

The Pretender visibly tensed, his eyes wide. "Then we need to get out of here!"

"Shh! Calm down." Sydney placed one hand on his shoulder to restrain him, as the younger man struggled to sit up. "We've organized that already. Nicholas, Debbie, Angelo and Michelle have moved into a building a few miles from here."

"Hunter's Lodge?"

"That's the one."

Jarod closed his eyes for a moment, initially in relief, but squeezed them tight as a wave of nausea swept over him. Sydney, seeing his muscles tighten, placed his hands over the two fists. "Let me get you something for that."

"No," the younger man ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Jarod, you don't have to a hero now. Just be happy in the fact that you've saved the lives of eight people and stop worrying."

"But I - "

"Jarod, look at me!"

The face that the Pretender slowly turned to Sydney was pale apart from the discoloration that was spread across it, and his eyes were almost black. The doctor leaned over him, his eyes anxious but speaking gently.

"You've done so much for all of us, especially Parker. I want you to stop worrying. Let me help you to get rid of the worst of the pain."

He held out both arms and Jarod leaned into the reassuring embrace, recalling the few times that Sydney had comforted him as a child. Sydney felt the tears soak through his shirt and the tremors shake Jarod's body as the emotion came pouring out. Four years of suppressed grief and anger, as well as feelings kept hidden away of his time at the Centre, were released in those minutes of emotion and Jarod, sitting up again, felt as if a weight had been lifted from him.

"Th...thank-you Sydney."

Sydney stood up and straightened the blankets after turning the pillow so that it was cool when Jarod lay back down against it.

"Don't try to hide that again, Jarod. You don't have to be alone now. Share the pain with us - it makes the burden easier to bear."

* * * *

"As I start counting back from three, Parker, I want you to slowly begin waking up. Three...you're feeling more awake...two...and one." There was a long pause before he leaned forward. "Parker?"

The figure opened her eyes and focused on at the man who sat in a chair beside the bed. "Sydney." Her eyes wandered around the room before coming back to him. "Thank you, Sydney. For everything."

"How do you feel?"

"In control. Whole. I've...never felt like that before. It's so..."

There was another pause.

"Do you remember that we discussed the diary?" Sydney proposed.

"Yes."

"You wanted to read it then. Do you still want to now?"

"I want to."

"And it won't..."

"She's gone. No, not gone. Part of me. And I won't let her take control again. Her memories are part of me, and her feelings are, too, but she isn't a separate entity anymore and I won't let her become one."

Sydney picked up the red plush diary from the floor beside his chair and put it on the bed. Then he rose from the chair. "Call me if you need anything."

"Sydney?"

"Yes?"

"Where's...can I see Jarod?"

"Not right now. I think it would probably be better for both of you if you waited a while longer." Sydney's imagination conjured up the image of Jarod with bruising on his face and he was thankful for Broots' suggestion that the two be kept apart for a while. The affect on either of them seeing the other was difficult to judge, but he knew that the event would probably not be pleasant.

* * * *

Jarod's eyes scanned the pages that lay on his lap. The sun streamed in through the window and warmed him. He closed his eyes for several seconds, enjoying the feeling of peace.

"What should I look for?" Broots queried from his seat opposite the Pretender.

Jarod's eyes ran down the list that he was making on a piece of paper. "Try KGB and détente at this stage."

"What have we got?"

Jarod smiled as Sydney walked into the room, asking the question at the same time as he sat down on the end of the bed. "Some answers but more questions. Seems kind of typical for the Centre."

"How do you deal with all of the dead ends?"

Jarod looked at the balding man as he put forward the query. "Well, for all the dead ends, there are usually a few useful bits and pieces, and I think there'll be some in this circumstance as well. It's just a matter of patience."

"I know this sounds kind of strange, but what are you looking for?"

Jarod looked up and smiled at Sydney's son. "It's not that strange. I've been hunting for a connection between the Centre and the activities during the Cold War. You know what that was?"

"Of course. Conflict that divided Europe. Communists against the rest. Berlin Wall. So what?"

"There wasn't just the physical confrontation. Most of the war was conducted secretly, through various organizations and plans. The biggest potential nasty, of course, were the big nuclear weapons stockpiles that both the US and USSR had. There were a few tense situations, mostly during the fifties and sixties, when it seemed like the world would explode in a mushroom shaped cloud, but it was always avoided. Although the Americans won't admit it, the Russians really won the secret underground war. They knew about virtually every spy that the West placed in the Communist-controlled areas whereas the Russian spies once in a while even managed to gain high-ranking positions in the American government. Admittedly many of them were unmasked, but some retained their positions and continued to feed information through right through to the end."

Jarod picked up a sheaf of papers and waved them in the young man's direction with a grin on his face. "This is proof of what the Centre was involved in for so long. They were using one of their branches there to collect information to feed to the CIA." He picked up another bundle. "And accessing secret information from inside the American government files to feed to the Russians. I'd guess that the KGB found out what they were doing and possibly held the Centre's people in Russia for a ransom of sorts. Then, when the Centre offered information was may have been useful, they released their prisoners and started paying." Jarod looked at the three men, all of whom sat staring at him. "They had their hands neatly in both tills and made a nice fortune out of it."

The psychiatrist gasped in horror. "But...the Centre was a fertility organization and research corporation!"

"Sorry Sydney, but that was only the work they were doing with NuGenesis. This was the real stuff. There's no money in fertility, but there's plenty to be had in the spying game."

"How did they do it?" Nicholas demanded. "Most of that information must have been very confidential!"

"Of course, but it had to be stored somewhere. Computers were still relatively new at that stage and not many people had ones powerful enough to hack into secret files. You had to have a lot of money for that - and to pay reconnaissance pilots to make copies of the photos they took to pass along to your colleagues on the other side of the Iron Curtain."

Jarod inhaled sharply as he looked at the next page. "And this appears to be a complete listing of NATO nuclear sites in every country of the world. Look at this - site, amount, everything. All uncovered by the Centre and other organizations working with it and all handed over to the Soviets - lock, stock and launch pad."

"And what did the Centre get out of this?"

"Money and plenty of it. Enough to finance NuGenesis and also for..." Jarod's voice trailed off as he looked at the page in front of him.

"For what, Jarod?"

The Pretender’s lips trembled for a moment before he steadied them, but Sydney, at least, could see the pain in his eyes when he looked up. "Project Prodigy."

Jarod, one hand on the part of his arm that Lyle had shot, sat staring out of the window to where the tree were losing their leaves in the last days of autumn. The room had remained silent after Jarod had voiced his discovery until Broots called up another page on the computer in front of him.

"What's this?"

Jarod glanced at the screen. "It's the methods by which the Centre accessed their information. Access codes, passwords, all of that information."

"And whose signature is that? There, on the bottom."

Jarod stared briefly at the screen and then fell silent. Sydney gently touched him on the shoulder. "Jarod?"

"It...it's Kyle's. Raines must have been using Kyle to access the information. And then he made a child accept all of the guilt for it. If these documents had ever been leaked to the FBI or the CIA during that time, Kyle would have..." Jarod's voice stuck in his throat and he seemed unable to breath as his eyes fixed on the signature of his dead brother. Sydney glanced at Jarod's face and shut the lid of the laptop, bringing Jarod out of his reverie.

"Was the FBI, or the CIA, getting any advantage out of this?"

"Not as complete as the one that the KGB, and before them the MVD, got. Oh, the Americas were told details about a few of the smaller nuclear sites, and a couple of the smaller spies were uncovered. But usually only the ones that the KGB had no further use for, both in terms of sites and people. That would always be the end of their careers in any case."

"And their families?"

"Were usually tortured and generally imprisoned as traitors. Some were killed. It depended on the position of the person. Don't forget that the Soviets, with a very complete record of every citizen, had a much better chance of learning about the spies. Often the role of the Centre was just to provide solid evidence that the person had been involved in actions against the Soviet Union. But that was really more than enough..."

* * * *

Sydney slowly opened the door and found Parker lying on the bed with the diary open on her chest.

"Are you okay?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes before she sat up. "I can't believe how much she went through. Have you read this?"

"Parts of it."

"This is the bit I can't believe. The last entry."

“April 13 1970, 8am.
"The Lord is my light and my salvation; I will fear no one. The Lord protects me from all danger; I will never be afraid. When evil men attack me and try to kill me, they stumble and fall. Even if a whole army surrounds me, I will not be afraid; even if the enemies attack me, I will still trust in God...In times of trouble he will shelter me; he will keep me safe in his temple and make me secure on a high rock. So I will triumph over my enemies around me. With shouts of joy I will offer sacrifices in his Temple; I will sing, I will praise the Lord. (Psalms 28: 1-6)"Oh, God, protect me. I am afraid. I trust in You but I am still afraid. Help me not to be afraid until the last moment of my life and then to give myself to you happily when that moment has arrived."

Miss Parker looked up at the man standing in the doorway, a sad expression on his face as he saw the pain in her eyes. "She knew, Sydney. Somehow she knew. How did she know?"

* * * *

The moonlight illuminated the figure on the bed, caught in one of his frequent nightmares, and the visitor approached the bed nervously. Turning, he threw one arm sideways and the light clearly showed the bruising that even several days of treatment had not managed to remove. The intruder couldn't restrain a gasp. She had known nothing of the injury, apart from being told that Jarod was unwell, and had been too wrapped up in her own concerns to bother. Her eyes traveled over his figure, his chest wrapped in one of the all too familiar black t-shirts of which he seemed to have an abundance, and she reached down and tugged on another of the identical garments. The sound, however, had broken the disturbed sleep and Jarod's eyes opened, focusing on the figure that stood in the middle of his room.

"Parker?"

She moved towards the bed but stopped while still out of reach.

"They never told me that you..."

He smiled. "What did they tell you?"

"That you were...sick. I guess I was..."

"A little too busy. It's okay. I survived without you for a few days and you obviously did the same. I'm glad to see you - as you, I mean."

"But it's...not me."

"Well, you're more you than you were before, if that makes sense."

"Could you not do that?"

He puckered his brow in confusion. "Not do what?"

"Practice your pretender skills on me and find out what I'm feeling before I feel it."

His dimples deepened. "So you admit that I was right?"

"Yes...I mean, no!"

"You never did know your own mind too well, Parker."

"I know it better than I did...thanks to Sydney - and you."

He shifted over slightly on the bed, giving her space to sit down. "I don't bite, you know."

Moving over, she sat gingerly on the edge. Her attempt at remaining outwardly calm, however, was shattered when he grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her. It was the closest he had been and she could feel his strength, even as she lowered her head to prevent him seeing her face.

"Warmer?"

"Thank you."

He accepted the statement without comment but began to wonder why she had come to visit him in the dead of night.

"Why did you...?" They both spoke simultaneously and their laughter broke the tension slightly.

"You first," the man offered.

"Okay...why did you help me, that night? I mean, it's hardly a secret what I would have done to you if I'd been..."

"In your right mind? But you weren't. And that was, admittedly, probably lucky for me."

His eyes traveled over her face and Miss Parker found herself blushing under the intentness of his gaze. "I did it because, despite everything we've been though, you're still the little girl who was my friend for all those years, even if other people did try to interfere."

"Sydney showed me that SIM. Jarod, I had no idea..."

He put up a hand and brushed the hair away from her face. "It's okay, Parker. I understand."

"But you came in when...you didn't have to."

"I couldn't let you be treated that way. I've spent the last four years helping total strangers, so doesn't it make sense that I'd also help you? I couldn't leave you at his hands."

"Jarod, I...do you know...anything?"

Jarod's eyes left her face and stared out of the window. "He...he's dead, Parker."

"What?" She started but the firm grasp of his hands prevented her from getting up off the bed. His eyes swung back to her face.

"Parker, I didn't do it. I promise. When we...left, he was drunk. I think he heard the door slamming behind us, but he tripped coming down the stairs from the bedroom. I called the police soon after we got to the first house and they told me he was dead and, due to the level of alcohol in his blood, that his death wasn't suspicious. It was an accident, pure and simple."

Miss Parker stared at him for several seconds before bursting into tears. He wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the stabbing pain that shot through the injured area, and waited until the storm of tears had abated. When she pulled back, he looked down at her.

"I was...so scared that he would come after me. All day I've been thinking that I heard him coming back and - oh, Jarod."

He rocked her gently until finally the tears had exhausted her. This time, looking up, she remained passively lying in his arms.

"No, Parker. And, if we can, we're going to get rid of the other nightmares, too."

Bending down, he brushed her forehead gently with his lips but, as he tried to draw back, she used one hand to keep his head down and kissed him hard on the mouth. He initially tried to draw back, but her hand prevented her from doing so and, when the kiss ended several moments later, they had both been willing participants in it. Jarod couldn't help smiling as he straightened up.

"What is it?"

"In all of the years I've been running, I never imagined..."

"What?"

"The Ice Queen..." He smiled again.

"Jarod, I'm not the person I was. Please tell me that you can see it. I don't want to be that, a prisoner to my nightmares. I want to be my own person."

She looked up at him and then, as he slipped further over the bed, she lay down, her head on his chest and her body pressed up against his. He tucked a blanket around her and curled his arm around her shoulders while she clung to him. In this way the rest of the night passed.

* * * *

"Sydney, have you seen…" the technician began nervously. "I can't find Parker."

"What?!"

Sydney jumped up from the seat in the kitchen and rounded on the man. "Where have you looked? Did she leave a note? Did anyone see her leave?"

"Dad."

Sydney turned and looked at Nicholas as he also stood up, his voice calm.

"Don't you think that perhaps you should look around before you go jumping to conclusions? She wouldn't have any reason to leave, at least not without saying goodbye anyway. I don't think that panicking is going to help."

"Do you have a suggestion?"

"That we split up and search the house," answered Nicholas calmly. "And then the grounds, if she's not inside. She may simply have gone for a walk. Or ask Jarod, he might know."

Broots tapped gently at the Pretender’s door and then pushed it open, poking his head into the room. Open-mouthed, he stared for several seconds before slowly pulling the door closed again and turning to face the two other men in the hallway with him.

"Well?"

"She's, um, there."

"With him?"

The answer came slowly. "Yes."

Nicholas stared at his father for a moment before bursting into silent laughter. "I did wonder if there was anything..."

"I can't believe it of him...or her..."

Nicholas took his father's arm and half-led, half-dragged him down the hall. "Dad, they're adults, not the children you knew at the Centre. Having got rid of so many of their negative emotions, they're even more likely to be able to get involved in a successful relationship like that."

Sydney stopped and stared at his son with wide eyes before suddenly joining in the amusement.

* * * *

Miss Parker opened her eyes and stared out of the window through which the sun was streaming. Being so close to winter, the light contained little warmth and she shivered before moving closer to Jarod's sleeping form. His arms tightened slightly around her and she couldn't help thinking how incredible their lives had become. Only months ago the situation would have been unimaginable for either of them, and several years before that neither would have believed that anything would ever have ended their friendship. She moved and felt Jarod sharply inhale. Sitting up, she watched as his eyes flew open and he began to rub a bandaged area on his arm.

"I'm...sorry. I didn't know."

He smiled ruefully. "It's okay. I'll survive."

"What happened?"

He looked at her but said nothing.

"Please tell me, Jarod. It hadn't happened a few days ago."

"I got it at the same time as these facial decorations."

"How?"

"I...got shot."

"What?!"

"Not too badly. It's more like a friction burn really. The bullet grazed my arm and I fell backwards and knocked myself out on a tree branch."

"Who shot you?"

There was a pause.

"Lyle."

"He was here? Why didn't you tell me? Is he...?"

"Parker."

"But he'll come back and..." Her voice was rising, mirroring the terror that was building inside her.

"Parker, listen to me."

His words, sharply spoken but still with soft tone that he had adopted since he first brought her to his lair, broke through the hysteria and she looked down at him, eyes wide in a pale face.

"Parker, he's dead. Lyle is dead."

"He's...?"

She looked at him for several seconds and burst into tears of relief, similar to those that she had shed the previous evening.

"Parker, are you all right?" The cultured tones from the doorway made both turn to see Sydney standing there, a tray in his hands.

The woman nodded as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly got up off the bed. Still wrapped in the blanket, she sat down in one of the chairs and took the mug Sydney offered.

"What now?"

"I want Parker to join the others." Jarod leaned back against the pillows that were piled behind his head as he spoke.

Her eyes widened. "What?!"

"Parker, I..."

"Jarod, no. I don't want to leave. I want to stay - with you."

"Parker, listen to me. Lyle found out that we're here. I don't know exactly how, but I can guess. Nicholas, Michelle, Angelo and Broots are staying in a house some distance from here. I want you to go and join them."

"But...what about you?"

"I'll be going as soon as I'm well enough to move around. I'm not at the walking stage yet - it's still a day or two away."

"And Sydney?"

"Well, after a lot of arguments," Jarod grinned up at his former mentor, "he stayed to take care of us. I want you to go there and then, when we're together again, we can leave and go somewhere else - somewhere safe."

"But they haven't come yet."

"They will. I figure that they'll give Lyle a week to finish everything and get back to the Centre. Which gives us another three days. And then they'll arrive and kill us all. So please, Parker, will you go?"

* * * *

"What else?"

"Détente, Glasnost, Perestroika..." Jarod offered in rapid succession.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Pe-re-stroi-ka. Okay, search...Whoa! More than fifty references on each!"

"Any connections?"

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean..." The technician fell silent and Parker, sitting at the foot of the bed where Jarod lay and whose confusion had been increasing during the conversation, now looked up. He noticed her expression and laughed.

"Sorry, Parker. I forgot that you haven't been privy to the conversations we've been having over the past few days. All of the terms are associated with the Cold War. Détente was an attempt, begun in 1973, to relax tensions between Russia and America. It succeeded for several years but finally collapsed in 1981."

"Jarod?"

The Pretender looked over at the technician. "Yeah?"

"There's a major section here. Do you want it?"

"Let me see."

Broots handed over the pages and Jarod skimmed them. "I thought as much." He looked back at Parker with a half-smile. "The Centre, of course, wasn't too happy about the possibilities of friendlier relations, fearing that the end of the Cold War would also be the end of the extra pocket-money they were receiving. The main reason for détente's collapse was a piece of important knowledge. The Russians found out about the tensions regarding the Vietnam War and also the resignation of Nixon in 1974 over the Watergate scandal. The Centre had passed information on to the KGB, explaining the political and social situation in America following these events and Russia then increased their aggression, invading Afghanistan in 1979 among other activities. Although détente continued for several years after that, it was never as successful as it had been and was finally abandoned in the years leading up to the start of Reagan's presidency in 1981."

"And the Centre?"

"Handed on everything they could get - which was a lot - and then forgot to shred the evidence. It was found in 1990, but a big cover-up meant that most people never got to see it."

"That's the information on Glasnost and Perestroika."

Jarod took the papers with a nod at Broots and rapidly read through them.

"And they were?" Parker prompted.

"Programs instigated by Mikhail Gorbachev at the end of the 1980's, around '86 and '88 respectively. Glasnost means 'openness' and was referring specifically to the Russian press. The Centre, of course, was terrified that the information might reveal the extent of their games. Perestroika was a campaign to reform Russian production and the Soviet economy. Its success was only limited but the Centre was concerned that these programs could end their deals and tried to interfere. Unfortunately for them, though, they'd already begun to lose credibility with the Russians and so were passed over."

"Why? What caused the change?"

"Several factors. One of the spies that the Centre informed on to the Americans had a much larger role than the Centre anticipated. This particular person also dragged his entire network of fellow informers down with him." Jarod tapped a second sheaf of pages. "A second reason was to do with the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. The information that the Russians received suggested to them that America's determination on the nuclear issue decreased after JFK's election as President in 1961. The Soviets moved nuclear arms into Cuba, with whom they'd formerly signed a treaty, and waited for the American response. It was much more aggressive than the Russians had been led to believe."

"And the Russians blamed the Centre?"

"Partly, yes. The Centre passed on many scientific discoveries too, particularly nuclear-related ones. One of their suggestions contributed to Chernobyl. Soviets have long memories and, as of that time, Centre information became of much less value. Consequently, they were paid less for it."

"Not a popular move."

Jarod looked over to Sydney with a smile. "What do you think?" He looked down at the papers that he still he held in his hand. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if..." his voice faltered as his eyes ran over the page.

"What is it?"

The Pretender looked up and smiled in an infuriatingly superior manner as he folded the page and slipped it into the pocket of the jacket that Miss Parker had insisted on him wearing when sitting up to stop him from feeling the cold. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, my dear."

Miss Parker tossed her head. "Well, fine. I didn't really want to know, but you never can bear not to share information anyway, so I guess all I have to do is wait. You'll tell me eventually." She got up from the bed and left the room.

"Really, Jarod, that wasn't very nice."

Jarod tried to look guilty and failed. "Oh come on, Syd. It's so nice to be able to bait her and get a familiar response again. It's like old times."

"So you want to go back to the way things were?"

Jarod thought over the past four years. "Well...not really. Besides, she'll come back. Parker's natural curiosity won't let her stay away."

* * * *

Jarod looked up from the computer as Parker entered the room. As she came over to the bed, he smiled. "I was hoping you'd reappear."

She sat down. "What was it - that information?"

"I can't tell you now - but I promise you'll know later."

"Jarod."

"Yes?"

"You're so infuriating - did I ever tell you that?"

He pretended to think. "Hmm, I have this recollection - I believe, once or twice."

She picked up a pillow, about to hit him, but the bruises that were still visible on his face stopped her. "Do they still hurt?"

He looked confused. "Huh?"

"The bruising. Does it still hurt?"

"Only when I get hit with a pillow or something," he retorted.

"Don't do that!"

"What?"

"Work out what I'm thinking!" she protested.

"I didn't have to - I know you well enough and when your eyes stray towards the pillows, let along pick one up... well, let's just say I don't need to be a genius to figure it out."

"For that, you do deserve it."

"But you wouldn't hit me," he smiled knowingly.

She was torn between the desire to kill him or to kiss him, but he kissed her first and the other urge suddenly vanished.

* * * *

The muffled thud from the room overhead drew the attention of both occupants in the kitchen.

"Jarod."

The expression came from them simultaneously as they ran up the stairs. Reaching the room above, they found the man lying on the floor. As Sydney helped him back into bed, Parker stood glaring at him.

"Let me guess. You were so frustrated that you decided to try and walk."

He looked up, his face flushed with a combination of pain and annoyance. "Very clever. I couldn't possibly imagine how you worked that one out." He grimaced as pain throbbed in his arm and a blinding headache made him squeeze his eyes shut. Parker had thought of a sharp retort but the comment vanished from her mind as, leaning over the bed, she could feel the tense muscles in the hand that she was holding. Sydney, who had slipped from the room as soon as Jarod was back on the bed, now reappeared with a half-full glass in his hand.

"Give that to him and wait." The words were so soft that she could hardly hear them and knew that Jarod would have missed them completely. Then the older man was gone and she was alone with the Pretender. She looked down at him and gently brushed the hair away from his face.

"Jarod. Hey, come on."

His darkened eyes and gritted teeth showed that the pain was not diminishing, but when she held the glass to his lips, he slowly swallowed the contents. She put it on the table beside the bed and then eased several of the pillows out from behind him until he was lying flat. As she smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead, murmuring softly, she could see the drug beginning to take effect.

"Parker?" The word was slurred and the effort of speaking brought the flush back to his face.

"Yes, Jarod?"

"I meant...what I said - before."

She leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Jarod?"

"Mmm?" He lifted drugged eyes to her face.

"I love you, too."

As Parker gently pulled the blanket over his sleeping form, she turned to see Sydney leaning against the doorframe, a look of curiosity on his face. "What was that all about?"

"Just a little - therapy."

"For you or for him?"

She smiled but refused to be drawn on the subject. "How long is he going to be like that?"

"A couple of hours. He's refused everything I've tried to give him so far and this chance for his body to have a break will help the healing process."

"So we can get out of here - when?"

"Hopefully the day after tomorrow."

"And he'll be well enough?"

"Oh, yes. A little shaky, perhaps, but after a couple of days of being spoilt - and I somehow don't think he'll object to that as much as he usually would - he should be fine."

"And the others?"

"When they called this morning, they said everything's fine but Debbie's getting a little bored." He raised an eyebrow expectantly and she smiled.

"Maybe if - "

"I could drive you around there now."

* * * *

When Jarod finally opened his eyes, he saw her sitting in the corner of the room and glancing through the papers he had left on the table.

"Morning."

"Not quite. It's actually just after seven o'clock this evening. Hungry?"

He began to pull himself up but the pain that flashed through his arm prevented it and he barely restrained a gasp as he sank back against the pillow. "I could do with something."

She leaned over and pressed a small button on the desk. A faint ringing could be heard downstairs and Jarod looked at Parker with raised eyebrows. "When was that put in?"

"Earlier today. Broots designed it and I spent some time over there and brought it back with me."

"It's a shame that I won't be needing it much longer."

Parker stood and put several pillows behind his head. "You'll get up when we say you can and not before."

Jarod tried to look meek and failed. "Yes ma'am. Who put you in charge?"

"Sydney, actually."

"I realized that she was the person most likely to make you behave," commented the man himself, from the doorway.

"It's never worked before, but I guess there's a first time for everything."

"Well, I think circumstances have changed in recent times." Sydney smiled when neither Jarod nor Miss Parker were able to meet his eye. "Of course, I could be wrong."

* * * *

Jarod awoke and looked out of the window. Thick clouds covered the stars and he wondered if the predicted storms were about to arrive. In a way it would make things easier. A storm would prevent their enemies from getting to them quite so fast. He wasn't willing to voice his concerns to the others about the potential dangers of the Centre again but it had been six days since he had... since Lyle had died, and he wondered a little that none of the other Centre employees had arrived to bring the group back to Blue Cove.

He felt Parker's body curled up against him and his thoughts went back to the activity of that day. The others had all expressed surprised at the speed with which he had managed to regain his ability to walk, but to Jarod it had seemed almost infuriatingly slow. When he had attempted to increase his speed, however, it had only resulted in him nearly falling and it had taken both Nicholas and Sydney to prevent him from doing so. Still, by the end of the day, he had begun to get used to the movement and was at least able to walk without support.

A crash of thunder at this point made him jump and his sudden movement disturbed the figure next to him.

"Are you okay?" she murmured.

"Fine." He stroked her hair as he spoke. "I was already awake, but the thunder startled me."

"Mmm." There was silence, during which Jarod thought she might have dropped off again, but the sound of her voice, seconds later, told him otherwise.

"Jarod?"

"What?"

"Have you ever thought what you'll do, when all this is over?"

"I often thought what I'd do if...when the Centre stopped looking for me. Where I'd go. Those plans, though, never involved you. Or anyone else associated with the place, for that matter."

She smiled but, in the dark, knew that he couldn't see it.

"What about you?"

"It didn't matter, as long as I was as far away as possible. It's funny the way that things change. My image of the future always had you being returned to the Centre and me being given the freedom to finally leave." She raised herself onto one elbow and looked down at his face, just visible as the lightening flashed. "But you know what the weirdest thing was?"

He reached up and gently ran a finger down her cheek. "What?"

"When I saw the boy in the Centre, I couldn't imagine sentencing him to a life of what I knew you went through. Yet I never had any qualms at the thought of returning you there."

Jarod's voice was soft in a mixture of understanding and emotion. "You gained something for yourself by bringing me back. What good would it have done to leave him there, to suffer like I did? None. But by trying to take me back, you were saving yourself..." His voice trailed off and he turned away from her, staring into the darkness of the room. She lowered herself to lie on his chest.

"Jarod, we'll find them. Remember all the promises you made to me? Well, this is one I'm making to you. We will find your family. I promise."

* * * *

Jarod moved across the room and sank down into the chair. The last few details moved across the screen and he quickly saved them onto a disk and slipped it into the pocket of his carryall. He turned off the laptop and carefully packed it away. That was everything and they could finally be reunited at the new house. In the week since the accident, Jarod had uncovered all available facts on the details with which the Centre had been involved during the Cold War, and there were times during which he wanted to confront his old captors with all that he had discovered.

The only items not packed were the two guns. He hadn’t brought Parker's with him to the first lair, all those months earlier, and his and Lyle's guns were now their only defense against capture by the Centre. He held the cold metal of his weapon for several minutes before slipping it into its holster and strapping the belt around his waist. He knew, despite his recent weakness, that he would have the strength to use it, should the situation arise.

He read again the page that contained the information he refused to share with the others. He didn't want them to be aware of it, preferring to produce it at the proper moment. Folding the paper, he returned it to his pocket and stood up. The three bags were piled up in the middle of the room and he began the methodical and habitual search of the room to ensure that he had left nothing behind. It amused him briefly to think that it wouldn't be Miss Parker who would be searching this time and that she, in fact, was one of the fugitives. His eyes suddenly narrowed. The situation had become much more tense now than it had ever been before and he wished, not for the first time, that they had all been able to leave before Lyle arrived. Their enemies were angrier, or would be once they knew what had happened, and thus more dangerous than they had ever been. Jarod knew it would take all of his skills and knowledge to get them all out alive.

Jarod's mind flashed back to the other occasions when he had left his lairs: the glee with which he prepared the red notebooks and left out the clues, well aware of the confusion with which they would invariably be greeted. And by which time, of course, he would be happily settling into a new situation, getting to know his workmates and working out the finer points of the new pretend. He found it incredible that the best feelings that he'd experienced in his life had almost all happened within a space of four years. He wondered now if those feelings were about to be supplanted by others.

Dragging his mind away from those thoughts, he glanced around for a final time, checking that everything was okay. It saddened him slightly to know that he could never come back to this house which, for him at least, held so many memories. Then, as he was about to leave the room, a noise drew him to the window. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the man cautiously approaching the house. It was a figure familiar to the Pretender and Jarod was heartily thankful that Sydney had decided to go and visit the others for the day. He wished now, though, that Parker had decided to go with them. Even as he extracted the gun from his pocket, he hoped that she wouldn't decide to come downstairs. Jarod was still uncertain of what her reaction to her father would be.

He checked that the gun was properly loaded as he silently descended the staircase.

"Jarod, I know you're there," a familiar voice suddenly called. "I only want to know where my daughter is. I haven't come to bring you back to the Centre, I promise."

'Like hell,' Jarod thought silently as he got to the foot of the stairs. Being so intent on the figure approaching the house, he completely missed the sound of steps behind him and it wasn't until a hand reached out and pulled his hair, forcing his head backwards, that he knew he wasn't alone.

Suppressed Memories
Part 5


Looking up, Jarod saw Raines gloating down. The man, however, was so intent on the face below him that he failed to notice Jarod raising his hand until the gun was level with Raines' eyes. Jarod allowed him a second to realize before pulling the trigger and, simultaneously, yanking his head away from Raines' grasp. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs as the body crumpled to the floor, and Jarod, as he glanced up, felt his heart sink. Hoping she was still willing to be as obedient as she had been in the confrontation with Lyle, he slipped up beside her.

"Parker, go back to your room."

She looked at him, speaking in the same low, tense tones as he had. "Why?"

"Just do it. Trust me - it's really important that you go up and stay there."

She turned towards the upper level before looking back. "Jarod?"

"What?"

"Is my father here?"

"Just go back upstairs."

He unscrewed the silencer from the gun, hoping that he wouldn't have to kill anyone else. With a trembling hand, he wiped Raines' blood from his face. His reaction was not as severe as when he had killed Lyle but the thought that he had taken a human life was as disturbing as it had been since Damon had died.

"Jarod, just come out and talk to me," Mr. Parker’s voice urged from the front of the house.

Jarod's eyes scanned the sky and the surrounding area. It seemed unlikely that Raines and Mr Parker would travel without Centre back-up but he could see nothing and hadn't heard any vehicles approaching the house. A footstep behind him showed how incorrect he had been in that assumption and he turned in time to see Sam approaching, gun aimed at his head. Jarod raised his hands above his head, linking his fingers after tossing the gun across the room onto a chair.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jarod saw the figure on the stairs. Cursing in his heart at her disobedience, he watched as Sam came closer. As he got a little too close, Jarod raised one knee and brought his two hands down on the back of Sam's neck, making the sweeper’s face come into direct contact with the hard bone of his knee. The man slumped to floor and Jarod dragged the body to a small, built-in closet, bereft him of his weapon, and made sure that the sturdy door was locked. Retrieving his own gun, he slipped behind a door and watched as Willie warily came in through the door.

A knock with Sam's gun to the nape of Willie's neck and the two sweepers were secured, unarmed, in the same small closet. Jarod's mind turned to the problem of Mr. Parker and his daughter. He wanted her to have the chance to make up her own mind about her feelings for her father, rather than always resent him for having made the decision for her. It would, he knew, be the fastest way for the anger that she had, in recent years, felt for him to return.

With an inward plea for help, he checked that the guns that he carried were ready for use and waited. He listened as the figure approached the house and entered. Having already seen the gun Mr. Parker carried, he was wary of an armed confrontation. The older man passed through the doorway, behind the door of which Jarod was standing, and, as he progressed further into the room, Jarod slipped behind him and placed the gun between the man's shoulder blades. The older figure's instant reaction was to immediately raise both his hands towards the ceiling but, as Jarod guessed he would, he also pulled the trigger. Jarod's realization of his probable actions meant that he was prepared to grab Mr Parker's shoulder and yank him back, away from the falling debris. The plaster fell to the floor, making a cloud of white dust that, had the Pretender not had a firm hold on Mr Parker's shoulder, would have provided the ideal situation for an escape. But Jarod's foresight had prevented that.

"Drop it," he growled, "or I'll put a hole in that part of you that masquerades as your heart." With his free hand, he knocked Mr Parker's wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. Looking up, he gasped with relief to see Sydney and his son coming cautiously up the stairs. Seeing the situation, Sydney grabbed rope from nail on which it hung on the veranda and, with Nicholas' help, bound the prisoner’s hands and feet. Then Jarod stepped back and looked down at the figure curled up on the floor, before remembering the woman at the top of the stairs.

He turned and went up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, he found her curled up against the banisters, her face in her hands. Her entire body shook with tremors and, as Jarod reached out a shaking hand to touch her shoulder, she lashed out, eyes closed, and he had to duck to avoid being hit.

"Hey, it's okay."

"Jarod?"

"Yes, Parker. It's me."

She opened her eyes and stared at him wildly. Then she was on her feet and in his arms. His own closed thankfully around her, knowing how close he had come to death.

"I thought... when I heard someone coming up the stairs... I didn't know if I'd see you or him. I... oh, Jarod..."

He stroked her hair with one hand and held her tightly to him with the other. "Yes, Parker. I know." He shakily let out the breath he'd been holding. "I know."

After several minutes, she pulled slightly away. "Where...where's Daddy?"

He took her face in his hands and looked down at her. "He's downstairs. Are you sure you want to see him?"

"Ye...I think so." He held her close for a moment and she clung to him, confusion on her face.

"You don't have to see him, but you need to make a decision."

"Can he...hurt me?" The childish comment reminded Jarod of everything that she had gone through and he involuntarily held her closer.

"No, Parker. I tie...He can't hurt you."

"I want to see him." Her eyes glowed with a determined light and, as Jarod put a comforting arm around her shoulders, they began to walk down the stairs.

Sydney looked up as the two people came in and instinctively stepped between Miss Parker and the figure of her father lying on the sofa. Seeing the look on Jarod's face, he moved to the side and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. The Pretender reached out for the gun that Nicholas still held. Sydney took it from Nicholas' grasp and handed it, with a warning look, to Jarod. The two then left the room. Jarod's glance oscillated between Miss Parker and her father as he took a position where the older man could still see him but where his daughter wouldn't be disturbed by his presence.

"Angel! It's wonderful to see you after so long. Why don't you untie me and we'll straighten out this ridiculous situation?" He looked up at her, but her gaze never wavered from his face and the steely look in her eyes caused him to feel a little uneasy. It reminded him uncomfortably of expressions that had appeared Catherine’s face. "Come on, Angel. Help me up and we'll go home."

"No." The word was almost inaudible but Jarod thrilled with pride that Parker had become strong enough to finally stand up to her father. "No, Daddy. I need to know something. Why did you order Momma's death?"

"Why did I what? Angel, what are you talking about?"

"You told Raines to kill Momma."

Mr Parker glared at Jarod. "What lies have you been telling my daughter? Is this why she's been missing for so long? You've had her here - brainwashing her!"

"No, Daddy. I worked this out for myself. I've been blind to everything that you've done for so many years and I finally worked it out - for myself. You ordered her death. She found out what you had been doing to me - all of the 'games' you forced me to play with you. And she found out, every time you wanted to do it, that you drugged her. You were concerned that she'd go to the police and tell them - so you...you had her..."

The tears had begun to well in her eyes as she made the first accusations and now, as they flowed down her cheeks, she began to sob convulsively. Out of the corner of his eye, as the woman threw herself at him, Jarod saw Sydney enter the room and handed over the gun.

"Okay, Parker. It's okay. You're safe." He guided her to a seat and sat her down on it. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her face into his stomach, soaking his t-shirt with hot tears, but neither Jarod not Sydney interfered to stop her. They knew that this would be a final part in the long recovery process.

The storm of tears continued for several minutes, during which time neither Jarod nor Sydney spoke. Mr Parker had, several times, asked plaintively for someone to explain the situation but, having been ignored, he had now fallen silent. Finally a dull knocking broke the silence of the room. Leaving Miss Parker, whose tears had begun to diminish, Jarod pulled out his gun once more, having returned it to its holster prior to going up to Miss Parker, and walked to the cupboard in which the two sweepers were imprisoned. Although Nicholas had re-entered the room only seconds earlier, Jarod was still not completely happy about letting the two men out but, looking over his shoulder, he thankfully spotted Broots coming up to the house.

The two men, after struggling slightly, were tied up. Miss Parker had exhausted herself with her emotions and Jarod had taken her up to bed. During the interval Sydney and Broots had taken the two sweepers around to where the helicopter had landed and then Jarod returned. He wrapped Raines' body in a clean sheet and Sydney also organized for that to be put into the helicopter. The pilot obediently took off on orders purporting to have come from Mr Parker. As the machine vanished into the sky, Jarod slipped out of the trees and Sydney turned to him.

"The Triumvirate?"

"There have only ever been two permanent members of it anyway - Raines and Mr Parker. The third position has always been fairly flexible. At one stage there was a dark woman, but she disagreed with one of Raines' schemes and was found at the bottom of her driveway one morning. Even Catherine was there for a while - until she also made the mistake of disagreeing with their ideas." Jarod stared at the ground. "The Centre's done a lot of damage over the years."

"So what now?"

Jarod smiled. "I think I have an idea."

* * * *

Sydney watched as the helicopter approached. As the craft landed softly on the grass, he placed a hand on Parker's shoulder and felt that she was trembling slightly. He had been unsure as to the wisdom of allowing her to witness the scenes that were now forthcoming but she had insisted and Jarod had supported her, explaining his concern that she might not thoroughly recover from the fear that she still had of her father if she couldn't see the situation through to the end. The Pretender, meanwhile, had approached the helicopter and was waiting until the pilot had opened the door and the two occupants climbed out, the more refined-looking of the two immediately turning to Jarod, holding out his hand.

"Zdrastvooy, Jarod. Kak ti seba chustvooech?"

"I'm well, Sergey. And you?"

"Also well. Ah, and this is Sydney? Hello, Gospod Sydney. It is an honor to meet you. And you, Miss Parker."

The dark man turned back to Jarod, who was greeting his colleague. Through her numbness, Miss Parker was startled to see the number of weapons that the two carried. Although she had managed to distance herself from her father, she still felt a small flicker of sympathy for the terror that he must feel upon seeing them.

As the group walked into the room, Nicholas moved away from the sofa and handed the gun over to Jarod. The former child prodigy returned it to his holster and stood watching the encounter.

"Well, Mr Parker, we meet again."

The bound man looked up at the speaker and immediately felt a tremor of fear go through him. Whatever Jarod had planned for him, Mr Parker had certainly not expected this. It meant that Jarod must therefore also be aware of all of the facts regarding the deals that had existed between the Russians and himself. He tried to bluff his way out of the situation.

"What can I do for you, Sergey?"

Comparing the offer with the man's present circumstances, Nicholas was unable to prevent himself from snickering slightly and the glance that Jarod shot at him showed that they were both enjoying the same joke.

"Well, you were so kind to us during our time of working together." The sarcasm made Mr Parker more worried than he had been before. "And I wanted the chance to repay some of it. Gospod Jarod, would you please read aloud the papers that you so kindly sent to me, in order that Mr Parker knows the circumstances under which we are taking him back with us."

"Certainly, Sergey."

As the long list of deals and situations were read out aloud in Jarod's calm voice, feelings grew in Mr Parker that were anything but calm.

"Very good, Jarod. But there is one more, I believe. One that you would not even reveal to me in the messages we exchanged."

"Yes, Sergey. This is probably the most significant, but I doubt if even you ever learned of it. I believe that the information was restricted only to your superiors."

"And this information..."

Jarod looked down at the paper and began to read. "On four separate occasions, beginning on the 23rd of July, 1986 and ending on the 12th of November, 1989, the Centre, acting on the advice of a person identified as Mr Parker, offered the KGB bribes of various large sums of money, amounting to several thousand dollars. The offers were refused and resulted in serious threats being made against the Russian government and people."

Jarod lowered the page and then looked at Sergey. The Russian's eyes were the only part of him that betrayed his surprise and Jarod handed the page to him for future reference. The black eyes skimmed the page and then turned to Mr Parker. The older man, having become increasing pale as the interview went on, was now quite white and Jarod glanced quickly at Miss Parker to see what her reaction was. She was sitting quietly on a chair and he wondered if she had absorbed any of what had passed. Feeling his eyes on her, however, she looked up and gave him a tiny smile. Reassured, he looked back to the hub of the action.

In that time Sergey and his compatriot, Vadim, had placed handcuffs around Mr Parker's wrists and chains on his ankles. The older man glared up at Jarod from under lowered brows, but for the first time Jarod felt no anxiety at his gaze. The concern of what Mr Parker could do had always made him fearful before but now he was able to ignore the expression and turn his attention to other matters as Sergey looked at him.

"Mee Blagodarniye za twoyu pomozch, Jarod."

"My pleasure, Sergey. I was glad to help." He looked at the thick bundle of American dollars the Russian was offering and, hesitantly, as he had no desire to offend this man, shook his head. "Please, Sergey, I couldn't accept money for what I've done. I feel that I am indebted to you for taking this man with you and I believe that I should be paying, rather than the other way around."

The Russian smiled broadly, understanding. "Ah, I see. You have your honor to think of. Then we will make these debts cancel each other out. But, if I can ever be of service to you again..."

"Or if I can help you, Sergey, then you must call."

The group, with Vadim carrying the prisoner, made their way out to the helicopter. "Well, goodbye Miss Parker, Mr. Sydney, Nicholas. Goodbye Jarod."

"Do sveedaneeya, Sergey, Vadim. Have a safe trip home."

As the helicopter took off, Sydney and Nicholas tactfully disappeared. Parker's eyes followed the object for several seconds before she turned and buried her face in Jarod's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. Despite the sobbing, he could still hear and feel what she said.

"I'm safe. Finally, at last, I'm safe."

* * * *

"Er, M...?"

"What?"

The computer technician peeped into the room, the rest of his body remaining in the hallway outside, ready for instant flight. "I've...got the report."

"Well, why didn't Willie bring it? Wasn't he in charge?"

"Ye...yes." Broots trembled slightly.

"I want to see him, with that report, right here and now."

"B...but..."

"Now!"

The head disappeared and the woman cast a laughing glance at the other figure in the office who acknowledged the look with a nod but kept his lips pressed in a straight line. Seconds later the sweeper sidled into his office, a folder in his hand. He dropped it onto the first desk and turned, about to flee when a voice stopped him.

"I'm not in charge of this search. Give the report to Jarod."

Willie cast a look of mute appeal at the woman, but the steely glance that met his gaze gave him no encouragement. He picked up the folder and carried it over to the other desk.

"All right. Get out." The sharp tones had their effect and the sweeper fled.

"You are a bully, Jarod."

"If he'd had his way, I’d be dead, or working for Raines again. Forgive me if I repay a little of what he deserves." He opened the folder, looking at the information it contained. A sigh told her everything she needed to know.

"Still no sign, huh? At least you know how we felt."

"But at least I left you clues to follow. Each time we get somewhere they've just vanished. It appears this time as if we were only minutes away. Apparently there was still warm coffee in a pot on the stove." He slapped the booklet shut and, turning, pushed it into a filing cabinet that stood behind his desk.

"Excuse me, Mr Parker. Mr and Mrs Ness have come for their appointment. I put them into the interview room."

"Thank-you, Sandy. I'll be right there."

Jarod pushed back his seat and stood up as Mrs Parker laughed. "I love the fact that you've adopted my name, rather than..."

He grinned. "Well, which one in particular were you thinking that you'd like to use, of the hundreds that I've adopted over the years?" Jarod stood up. "And now, if you don't mind, I have prospective parents to see."

"Do you think you can help them?"

"I hope so. The rates of success of the fertility treatments have increased and I think they have a good chance. They have everything going for them."

"Good luck."

Jarod flashed a smile over his shoulder at his wife before exiting the office.

* * * *

"I still can't believe what you've done with this place." Mrs Parker looked around at the once sparse rooms, now filled with children's toys and games and with walls covered with stimulating scenes for young children. "It's so much better than it was."

"Oh, I don't know. I still remember the fun of crawling through the air vents to those secret meetings. The kids here..."

"Will hopefully have better lives than we did."

Jarod laughed and pulled her into his arms. "We seem to be doing pretty well for ourselves." He bent down and was about to kiss her, but a giggle from behind made them turn.

"Well, Margaret, and what have you been up to all day?" Jarod let go of his wife and swung his daughter up into his arms.

"Sydney showed Charles an' me how to make cubbies in the walls. See?" She grabbed her father's arm and pulled him into one of the rooms. Sydney, his hair covered in cobwebs, emerged from the vent, followed by a small boy who ran to Mrs Parker and hugged her around the waist as Debbie appeared from behind Sydney.

"Did we block that off?"

"Mm hmm. They aren't going to get lost in the bowels of the Centre, if that's what you were thinking."

"You always know what I'm thinking."

"Compulsory part of having married you."

She rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek as the two children turned back to their cubbyhole and Sydney, having shaken the dust out of his hair, left the room with them. Michelle, leaving one of the rooms, joined them.

"Where's Brigitte?"

"Still finishing the job you set her earlier." Jarod walked over and yanked open a door. A figure slowly emerged, a cloth tied around her head and an ugly tartan strip tied around her waist as an apron. "Well, you're certainly taking your time. Is that toilet clean yet?"

She muttered angrily and glared at Mrs Parker, who pretended not to notice. The trio left her and continued down the hall to where rows of babies lay in their cots in the nursery. A group of men stood outside the window, comparing pictures and all talking loudly.

"Well, the Catherine Parker Obstetrics Ward appears to be flourishing."

Sydney's words brought a smile to the new Mrs Parker's lips and she squeezed her husband’s arm.

"I still can't believe you came up with this idea."

"Oh, it was easy," he replied, trying to look modest and failing.

At this juncture a figure came up to the group. "Excuse me, Mr. Parker, but there's someone who wants to see you in your office."

Jarod looked down at his secretary. "Did they give a name?"

"No, sir. The Major said you would know who he was."


THE END