Disclaimer; I admit that none of these characters belong to me, I'm not making any money off this story, so please don't so sue me.



None So Blind
part 1
Sarah Lynn




Broots heard the high heels come clicking down the hall and had to force himself not to hide under his computer table. It wouldn't work anyway, he told himself. In the mood Miss Parker was in she could probably shatter to pieces any shelter he took just by looking at it. The high heels slowed until they stopped. Right behind him.

"So, Broots," said Miss Parker as she slowly spun Broots' swivel chair around to face her. "Sydney here and I just had the most interesting trip." Sydney? Oh, good, there he was. He could calm Miss Parker down. Occasionally. "Really, I wish you could have come. Wyoming is such a hip little joint-" her voice was saturated with sarcasm "-I knew you'd fit in just perfectly. And we had plenty of time to look around" -here it came "-since Jarod left there last week!" By the time she got to these words Miss Parker was looming over Broots, her face inches from his. She took a deep breath, pivoted on her heel, and stormed into her office, calling back over her shoulder, "Even for you, Broots, that's pretty shoddy work."

"Even for Miss Parker, that's a pretty harsh criticism," Sydney commented lightly after the door had slammed behind her. Broots groaned and settled back into his seat.

"I deserved it," the computer technician said miserably. "How could I have been off by a whole week?"

Sydney looked at the man with sympathy. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Broots," he said, calming the atmosphere. "After all, we are trying to outwit a genius. It's not an easy thing to do."

"No, it's not." Broots jumped to his feet and even Sydney turned sharply as Mr. Parker's voice sounded across the room. He was standing on the balcony above the two, Mr. Lyle behind him. "Where's my daughter?" Broots pointed to the office, and the two walked down the stairs after Miss Parker without so much as another glance for either man, which was just fine with Broots. He noticed, however, that Lyle did not look as happy as he had expected Miss Parker's rival to look after she had failed again to capture Jarod. In fact, he looked downright irritated. Broots wasn't sure if this was good or bad.

Miss Parker didn't look up at the knock on her door. "Sydney, just go away," she snapped. "I told you on the plane that I don't want to talk." But the door opened anyway to reveal . . . her father. "Daddy," she said in what she hoped was a calm voice. Inwardly she was bracing herself for the tirade to come. She knew this was unavoidable, but he could have at least given her time to recover from her latest-

"Failure," Mr. Parker's voice in itself was unremarkable. It was the power vested in the person that made Parker's stomach lurch. "Another complete failure," he continued, stepping forward into her office and for the first time Parker noticed Lyle. She refused to think of him as her brother, he was far too- Upset? Parker looked again. No, there was no mistaking it. Lyle's face clearly showed anger and tension, which were not the reactions she had predicted.

"You know," continued Mr. Parker, unaware of his daughter's train of thought, "It's interesting how ideas seem to occur to everyone in this place at the same time. Just now, Sydney was saying that the reason we couldn't catch Jarod is because we can't think like him, an idea that has already been acted upon. We're adding another person to the Jarod Project."

"What!" Miss Parker protested and would have continued if her father hadn't fixed her with a look that said very plainly not to contradict him. No wonder Lyle was upset, he was worried about competition for the glory of returning Jarod to the Center.

"I don't want to hear another word about it!" Mr. Parker thundered and even Lyle, who was standing behind Mr. Parker's back, flinched. Miss Parker braced herself further and asked a question.

"Who is this new person? You implied he could think like Jarod?" The second statement came out sounding rather incredulous, and Mr. Parker's expression darkened.

"Actually, it's two new people and one of them, who happens to be a she, can think like Jarod."

Miss Parker suddenly caught the meaning. "You're putting a pretender on the case?" she whispered in shock. As further possibilities suggested themselves her voice increased in volume; "But don't you think it, ah"-she searched for the right word "-unwise to have another pretender to study the one who got away? I mean, what if he, er, she learns from Jarod's example and figures out how to escape-"

"That won't be a problem," Mr. Parker interrupted with a condescending smile. Parker had long ago given up trying to judge which she hated more; when he was angry with her or when he patronized her. "This pretender is really quite different then Jarod. But" -he overrode her complaints "-you'll soon get a chance to see for yourself."

"Fine," Miss Parker said through her teeth. "When does this pretender get here?"

"About three hours ago," Mr. Parker laughed as he went through the door. "Go down and see her. She's in SL 25. Name's Rachel." And with that he was gone. Lyle trailed after him, but paused at the door to say; "This is all your fault, you know."

Parker gave him a cold smile. "I don't see you doing much better. You'd better hurry, if you don't catch him quickly, you're not going to be able to ride on his coattails."

Lyle matched her smile. "It's funny how after all this time you still won't say the words 'our father'." Before Parker could think of a snappy comeback, he was out the door. She sat down in her chair, feeling her ulcer throb and tried to will it to stop. After a minute she felt well enough to go see this new addition to the Centre freak show and went storming out of her office, almost crashing into Broots and Sydney, who were right outside. Sydney was as inscrutable as ever but worry was written all over Broots' face, next to the ever-present guilt.

"We couldn't help overhearing," Sydney said apologetically.

"I'll bet you couldn't," Miss Parker seethed. Sydney said nothing, and after a moment Miss Parker snapped "Well, have you finally run out of words?"

"I don't think there's anything to say," Sydney replied evenly. "I believe our wisest course of action is to see this new pretender before we decide what to do next."

"Where do you think I was going when you two got in my way?" Miss Parker shouldered past Sydney, Broots almost leapt out of her way, and the three of them proceeded to SL 25.

As she stepped off the elevator, Parker realized she had no idea what room the new pretender was in. Come to think of it, why wasn't this pretender on SL 26? As far as she could remember, there was only one possible room where a pretender might be kept on SL 25 . . . She hoped she was right and strode off confidently, Broots and Sydney following her. Parker knew she was right when she almost crashed into Lyle, who was heading the same way she was.

"What's your rush, sis?" he said with a slimy smile.

"Let's just get this little meeting over with, shall we?" Parker said curtly, striding ahead of him through the halls to Room G17. Sure enough the door was locked, but opened at a sweep of her Centre ID card. Parker tossed her hair back and entered.

For a containment room, it was enormous. In fact, it was similar to the room she worked in with Broots and Sydney with a balcony overhead. But instead of computer equipment, the balcony was lined with bookcases, onto which a teenage girl and a woman in her early forties were unloading thick books from boxes. Even though the door had made almost no noise, the girl stood and turned around to face the door. The woman saw and rose also. For a moment Parker just stood, taking the new pretender in. The girl was short and a few pounds on the heavy side. Her black hair (which was in a shoulder length cut more practical than stylish) and dark eyes accentuated her pale complexion, as did the black shirt and slacks she was wearing. And for some reason, the girl was staring at the air a few feet to Parker's left- But before she could observe more, Lyle pushed her out of the way and strode into the room.

"Rachel?" he said, trying to assume a voice of control.

"That's right." The pretender's voice was soft and low-pitched. She reached in front of her for the handrail and let her hand glide along it as she walked over to and down the stairs.

"I'm Miss Parker," that person said, striding forward. "And I'm Mr. Lyle," Lyle introduced himself testily after it became clear that Parker wasn't going to refer to his presence. Sydney noticed that the girl's companion watched her carefully, but didn't say anything, letting the girl handle introductions.

"A pleasure to meet you," Rachel said with a faint smile. Parker was taken aback. Few children at the Centre would have given that response, either through rebellion or apathy, let alone a smile. Rachel sounded almost normal, but the way she continued to stare at empty air clearly indicated that something was wrong with her.

An awkward moment passed, until Parker decided to take charge. "So," she said with what attempted to be a friendly smile but failed completely, "Do you know yet what you're here for?"

"Yes," the girl said in her quiet voice. "To help you catch a runaway pretender named Jarod." Parker blinked. She hadn't expected the Centre to tell the girl that much.

"Correct," Lyle recovered from his surprise first.

"So, when do I get started?" The shocks just kept coming with this kid. She sounded like she actually wanted to work.

"Perhaps we should all sit down?" Sydney entered the limping conversation for the first time. Rachel's head snapped in his direction.

"Is someone else there?" she called. Parker stared at the girl in confusion. Sydney and Broots were perfectly visible . . . Wait a moment.

"Are you blind?" Parker asked sharply.

"Yes, she is." Rachel's companion was leaning over the balcony railing, looking at the four Centre employees in amusement. "I'm Dr. Scott. I don't believe you did introduce your two friends."

"Sydney and Broots," Parker snapped, jabbing her thumb at each one.

"As Rachel said, a pleasure," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sydney is the one who just spoke."

Parker was about to snap that she was perfectly aware of that fact when she realized that the comment was for Rachel's benefit. The faint smile crossed the girl's face again as she nodded in Sydney's direction. Parker was still trying to figure the pretender out. Her blindness accounted for the staring into thin air thing, but why did she seem free of the psychological scars that marked other children in the Centre? Dr. Scott briskly moved down the stairs.

"How about we all sit down?" she suggested.

"Let's not," Miss Parker snapped, but Dr. Scott was already taking Rachel by the arm and leading her to one of the chairs surrounding a table at the left end of the ground floor of Rachel's room. The other end held a bed, chair, and desk with a . . . computer? What was going on?

"If Miss Parker has other things to do, this could wait," Rachel protested to her caretaker.

"Nonsense, Rachel," the doctor said in a pleasant voice which contradicted her expression as she looked back at Parker. "I'm sure Miss Parker and Mr. Lyle can spare five minutes of their time to help a new Centre employee get settled into her job."

Parker earnestly hoped no one noticed her jaw drop for a moment before she got herself back under control, but it seemed Lyle, Sydney, and Broots were all too shocked to notice anything. Someone (probably this Scott) had tricked the girl into thinking she was doing this voluntarily. How the hell had she done that?

There was only one way to find out. Parker suppressed a sigh and sat down across from the pretender and her caretaker. Lyle quickly grabbed the last chair, leaving Sydney and Broots standing in the background.

"So why don't you tell us something about yourself," Lyle said, turning on the charm. Miss Parker rolled her eyes, but Rachel answered the question.

"Well, I . . . um . . . Have you read my file?" Miss Parker shook her head no, then caught herself and murmured a negative. "Oh. Well, my parents were both pretenders with the Centre, so I've lived here all my life, with Dr. Scott to take care of me. My parents couldn't, of course, since they were so busy," she added in an aside.

I'll bet they were, Miss Parker thought and wondered how much of Rachel's story was true and how much had been fabricated by the Centre.

"There's not really much to tell," Rachel leaned back, her brow creased in thought. "I've been doing sims since I was six, and I'm fairly good at them, though not the best," she said with no trace of false modesty. "So, how about you two? Oh, excuse me. You four. You aren't pretenders, right?"

"Right," Broots said quickly into the silence, and then gulped as Parker and Lyle both glared at him. Rachel tilted her head.

"Is that Broots?" she asked. Parker rolled her eyes as Broots nodded and Sydney said out loud "Yes."

"And that's Sydney," the pretender muttered to herself. Parker got the impression that she was trying to memorize their voices. Rachel's head came up again. "You don't have to stand over there by the door. I believe there's another chair at my desk, and someone can take my seat."

She started to get up, but Broots stuttered out "No! Don't worry, I like standing!" Rachel turned in his direction uncertainly.

"You're sure?" she said, half out of her seat.

"Quite," Broots said. She smiled again! and sat down as Sydney reached for the fifth chair.

"There's no need for that, Sydney," Lyle rose to his feet, quickly followed by Miss Parker. Rachel heard the sound of chairs scraping and stood again, her face confused.

"Yes, I think that's enough for now," Dr. Scott said sweetly. "Rachel, why don't you familiarize yourself with your new room, while I talk to Mr. Lyle and Miss Parker outside?" Lyle shot her an evil look, but she ignored it and marched out the door.

"Alright," Rachel agreed, unaware that her companion was already gone. She extended her hand, "It was nice to meet you." Miss Parker rolled her eyes, but gave the girl a quick handshake. As soon as she had done so, Lyle leaned over and clasped the girl's hand in both of his with what Parker suspected was intended to be warmth. The pretender blinked.

"What happened to your thumb?" she asked.

Dr. Scott was leaning against the wall outside the door when Lyle and Parker came out, followed by Sydney and Broots. Miss Parker estimated her to be a few inches shorter than she was, and a few years older, though her red hair didn't show a trace of gray. Probably dyes it, Miss Parker thought. As soon as the door swung shut, the doctor straightened up.

"Alright," she said in a very different tone of voice. "I don't know what idiot sent you two clowns down here without giving you any background on Rachel-"

"The idiot would be me," Mr. Parker said as he walked around the corner,"-and these two clowns are my children." Miss Parker took satisfaction in seeing Scott wince. "Now perhaps you'd like to fill us all in on Rachel's background." Dr. Scott swallowed, but when she spoke there was no hint of emotion in her voice. "Rachel has, as she told you two, been raised in the Centre, or rather an annex of the Centre."

"Where?" Parker cut in.

"That information is irrelevant," Scott said coldly. It was clear that Parker had made herself another enemy. "To continue. Previous training of pretenders has always been based on the goal of getting the pretender to work like a machine, which is foolish. A pretender is human, and there are much more effective ways to manipulate humans to get them to give that extra push, namely the rewards and punishments system. When Rachel does her work well, she is rewarded with privileges, such as extra rest periods or new Braille books. When she fails, these privileges get taken away."

Lyle interrupted, "That's ridiculous. If she's getting more free time, her work output won't match that of the other children."

Dr. Scott smiled again. "I was hoping you'd ask that. Yes, Rachel's work output is at about 85% of what's normal, but only if you measure in quantity. In fact, her work happens to be of a far higher quality since she still possesses creativity and the freedom to express this."

This time Miss Parker cut in, "But if she possesses the capability to think for herself, eventually she will want to think entirely for herself and run away."

"No, she won't," Dr. Scott said with a surprising grin. "Rachel may have creativity, but that doesn't mean she thinks for herself. Every person grows up with a basic set of beliefs, and since we had control of Rachel from the start, we were able to control those beliefs. She believes that to be a pretender and spend her life working for the Centre is one of the highest honors life can offer. Furthermore, she is dependent upon others. Rachel believes that because of her blindness she would be unable to function in the open world. The Centre is her shelter; she likes being here because she feels useful and respected and she is afraid to risk those two things for what is to her an abstract concept of freedom."

There was a moment of silence.

"So, how long did you practice that speech?" Parker asked sweetly. Dr. Scott's eyes narrowed but before she could say anything, Mr. Parker broke into the conversation.

"Angel, that was unnecessary," he scolded, then turned to Scott with a smile. "Doctor, my congratulations on your excellent work." Scott flashed a triumphant glance at Parker as she smiled back at Mr. Parker simperingly. Miss Parker didn't respond. You've won this battle, she thought darkly, but don't fool yourself that you've won the war.

"Dr. Scott," Mr. Parker continued, again unaware of his daughter's thoughts, "Your request to work with our newest arrival has been granted, so why don't you fill these two, er, four in on how to work with Rachel and then head down to SL 26?"

"Sounds good," Scott smiled and kept smiling until Mr. Parker was out of sight, at which point she turned back to Lyle and Parker's stony faces. "OK, kids, listen up. The first thing is when you're with Rachel, pretend that you respect her. Second, Rachel has been brought up to suppress her own needs for the needs of others. While this means that she'll do anything for you, it also means that she is unable to care for herself. If you're working with her, you need to make sure you tell her to rest and eat, otherwise she will literally work until she drops."

Dr. Scott finished with a smirk that faded slightly as Parker and Lyle continued to merely stare at her. She looked at them, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none she finally just tossed her head and stormed away down the hall.

As she vanished from view, Lyle turned to Miss Parker. "You know, sis," he said reflectively. "With the new competition from the evil scientist there and her tame pretender, don't you think it's time we put aside old rivalries?"

Miss Parker turned to him in disbelief.

"Don't give me that look. I'm serious," Lyle said with as much earnestness as he could muster. "It would make sense. If we work together, we can bring Jarod in without the girl, and that would put us both further along our way to accomplishing our . . . shall I say goals?"

"Dream on," Parker said evenly and walked away in the opposite direction from Scott and Mr. Parker, barely noticing Broots and Sydney trailing behind her. She needed time to think. She didn't know what effect Rachel was going to have on her hunt for Jarod, but that's what it was; her hunt for Jarod and no freak of nature was going to change that.





Okay, that's my first story.

Disclaimer; All characters belong to NBC, not me. I'm not trying to steal them, I'm just . . . borrowing them. No disrespect is intended.

Note to the reader; This is the second part of "None So Blind." Please read the first part or this isn't going to make much sense.



None So Blind
part 2
Sarah Lynn




Parker paced back and forth, her high heels clicking. If the noise bothered Rachel, she gave no indication and merely continued to scan the Internet through the pair of headphones perched on her head. Parker shook her head in disbelief. The Internet.

This pretender had access to way too much information for Miss Parker's taste, but when she had raised objections, Scott sneeringly told her that it was unreasonable to expect Rachel to do her best work in a vacuum. But if she was so worried, Miss Parker could monitor Rachel herself and see how trustworthy she was. Mr. Parker thought it sounded like an excellent idea and ordered Miss Parker to do so for two weeks. It had been a week and a half. Parker still didn't trust Rachel, but was now ready to lie so she didn't have to watch the girl skim through endless unrelated sites. Vaguely Parker wondered what kind of program Rachel had that could read the words off the screen into her headphones, but she didn't really care. This was a waste of her time. Parker knew she couldn't do anything until she heard those magic words-

"I think I've found something," Rachel called, her hands moving quickly over the keyboard. Parker broke her stride and almost ran to the pretender, feeling her excitement building, but carefully controlling it. Rachel had pulled up a site . . . advertising health food? There was nothing on the page about Jarod.

"What's this?" she asked, barely managing to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"A clue to help find Jarod," Rachel said excitedly. Parker looked at the screen again, and then back at the pretender.

"Rachel, this is a site for health food," Parker said wearily. "This has nothing to do with Jarod. Are your earphones working correctly?"

Evidently the pretender took that for humor because she laughed. It wasn't a particularly beautiful laugh, but Parker caught her breath as she tried to remember the last time she'd heard a child laugh in the Centre.

"No, health food store has nothing to do with Jarod," Rachel said cheerfully. "It's the site itself. Jarod designed this site."

"How do you know that?" Miss Parker asked incredulously.

"I studied a web page Jarod built while he was still at the Centre, and I noticed certain distinctive characteristics, characteristics which are repeated here. Still," suddenly Rachel was serious again, "I could be wrong. Could someone else check this?"

Five minutes later Broots was scanning the page, turning it into different colors and revealing different texts as he and Rachel excitedly prattled at each other in a language Miss Parker couldn't understand a word of. She was just resolving to learn more about computers when Broots crossed the room to where she was sitting at the table.

"Miss Parker, she's right," he said eagerly.

"The site was built by Jarod?" Miss Parker said.

Broots nodded vigorously. "She's amazing," he said in a low voice so Rachel couldn't hear. Parker glanced at the girl, but she had her headphones back on and was completely focused on the site. "I didn't find the characteristics that mark it as Jarod's until I gave the site an in-depth examination, and that was only after Rachel told me what I was looking for and where to look for it!"

Miss Parker brushed off Broots' raving as she moved back to the computer. The girl was a pretender; of course she was good. Parker addressed her in a louder voice that she hoped could be heard over the noise of codes being read or whatever.

"So, what do we know?" Rachel turned, all seriousness now, and gave her report.

"Jarod designed this web page two days ago, or to be more accurate, he put it on the web two days ago. It is an advertising site for a small health food store in Marispont, Maine. Therefore Jarod was probably in Marispont, either running a web page consulting business or just helping the proprietors of this store, the Full Garden. He was there at least two days ago, and it seems likely that he may still be there."

"Broots, get the jet and tell them to get ready to fly to Marispont, Maine," Parker was already halfway out the door. "And Rachel, keep scanning for information. Broots will contact you once we're in the air."

Miss Parker quickly rounded up Sydney and two sweepers and headed for the runway, where she was met by an embarrassed Broots and a smug Lyle.

"You weren't going to leave without me?" he asked innocently.

"Of course not," Parker responded just as sweetly, shooting a dirty look at Broots after Lyle strolled ahead to the plane.

"It wasn't my fault," he whispered. "He walked in just as I was calling and asked Rachel what was going on, so of course she told him. I couldn't think of anything I could do to stop her."

Parker didn't reply but stalked on ahead to the plane. She couldn't think of anything Broots could have done either, but she wasn't going to go out of her way to make him feel better.

All in all, it was a tense flight. The only sound made by anyone on board was Broots' tapping at his laptop as he and Rachel swapped ideas and information over the Internet. By the time the flight landed, it was mid-afternoon and Broots had found an apartment at 721 Dock Road registered to Jarod Farmer.

"Actually, Rachel was the one who found it," Broots corrected as he tried to keep up with Parker as she strode to the rental car.

"You, her, what's the difference?" Parker snapped.

"About 20 years and 60 IQ points," Broots muttered. Parker pulled up short and fixed Broots with a stare. He wilted and shrunk away.

"Way to keep the computer geek in line," Lyle murmured in her ear under the guise of holding the car door for her. Before Miss Parker could respond she was forced to lurch back as Lyle almost slammed her leg in the door. The ride was just as tense as the flight.

As Miss Parker climbed the stairs to Jarod's apartment, she could feel the excitement building again. The parking space for his apartment had a car in it, which Broots was checking the registration on now. Of course it was possible that someone else had parked in his spot, but . . Parker almost didn't even care that Lyle was right behind her.

Almost.

The door was unlocked. Parker and Lyle exchanged a glance and Parker could see her excitement reflected deep in Lyle's eyes. Moving as one, they leapt into the apartment, guns pulled out on the . . . mess. The apartment showed all the signs of having been quickly and recently vacated. Parker almost groaned aloud in disappointment, but she forced herself to check the apartment anyway, a futile exercise that only confirmed her first impression. Yet again, they had just missed Jarod.

---

Broots was happy to be left in car, using his computer, doing what he was good at. He never really understood why Miss Parker always dragged him along on these trips since he was almost never-

BAM!

Broots almost jumped out of his seat at the noise, which at first he thought was a gunshot, but then realized was a slamming door. He stuck his head out the window to see Miss Parker returning across the parking lot, glowering. Broots automatically checked the car to see if there was anywhere to hide.

She opened the door and stood there staring at him. Broots stared back nervously.

"He's gone," she said finally, bitterly. "Lyle and Sydney are searching the apartment and I came out to here you tell me that that isn't Jarod's car in the parking lot."

"But it is," Broots said.

Miss Parker whirled around. "What!"

"It's a rental car registered to Jarod Ford. I suppose it's possible that it could be another Jarod but it's not really likely-"

"Broots!" she cut him off. "Are you saying that Jarod hasn't left yet?"

"That may be to much to assume at this point," Rachel's voice said quietly from behind Broots.

Miss Parker gasped out loud in surprise and pushed Broots backwards, looking for Rachel. Broots nervously said, "Oh, Miss Parker, I forgot to tell you; Rachel figured out a way to attach my cell phone to the computer so we can talk, and she can hear what you're saying . . ." Broots trailed off as Miss Parker gave him another look.

"Yes, that's right," said Rachel's voice, oblivious to Miss Parker's disapproval. "So, do you know when Jarod left?" Miss Parker rolled her eyes but answered the question.

"It looks like we just missed him."

"But his car is still there . . . Hmm. Why do you think that he just left?"

"Rachel," Parker said in as civil a voice as she could manage, "Much as I'd love to play twenty questions with you, we need to find Jarod."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" From anyone else, Miss Parker would have interpreted the words as a challenge, but Rachel managed to make it sound like a serious question. "If Jarod just left, but didn't take his car, there are only a few places he could be. Remember, I am a pretender, and with enough information I can pretend Jarod."

"Alright, I get the picture," Miss Parker snapped, embarrassed that she hadn't thought of that herself. Quickly she described the scene in Jarod's apartment; drawers left pulled out, a few articles of clothing left in odd corners and under the bed, and, most convincing of all, the remains of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich left on the table. There was silence on the other end of the line as Parker finished her list in growing irritation. Peanut butter and jelly. What was Jarod doing, regressing to his childhood?

"And you would say the sandwich was made today?" Rachel interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes," Miss Parker said wearily.

"Interesting. It sounds like Jarod was forced to bolt around noon, and we found his web site at about 11:30 this morning." Miss Parker blinked. She hadn't thought of that. Maybe there was something this freak of nature was good for after all . . . "Alright, this is what I think." Rachel cleared her throat. "Jarod is eating lunch while on the Internet, checking his site for some reason. Somehow he realizes that someone has dissected the codes on his site, it's only a matter of time before they find him and he runs as fast as he can."

"So let's get to the airport," Lyle said from behind Parker. She almost jumped, but swallowed her surprise, refusing to give Lyle the satisfaction of knowing he took her unaware.

"No, Jarod isn't at the airport," Rachel corrected Lyle gently. "The airport is an hour away. If Jarod went there he would have taken his car. Besides which, the airport is too risky. You'll be arriving any minute, I can't take the chance you might be there when I am." Parker almost shivered at the change in tense as Rachel's voice suddenly became far away. It was creepy to hear the girl lose herself into a pretend mid-thought.

"Besides which, the airport is the obvious place to go, so I can't go by air. The car could be traced, so I can't take that, and that leaves . . . Did you say this apartment was on a Dock Road?"

Miss Parker understood first and whirled around, smelling the salt air for the first time. Sure enough, she could just see a pier at the end of the street with several boats tied up.

"Rachel, you're right. Come on!" Miss Parker almost ran down the street, leading the rest of the Centre employees. Broots punched a few buttons on his computer and clambered out of the car to join the others, but first grabbing the cell phone.

There were two old men sitting at the end of the dock, fishing. Parker was surprised that anyone would be out in the cold, early December, but she dismissed the thought as irrelevant.

"I'm looking for a man," she said, planting herself in front of the two men. They exchanged a glance.

"Women these days sure are forward," one of them casually remarked to the other. Miss Parker's expression darkened, but she pulled out a picture of Jarod from inside her coat.

"This man," she said through her teeth, thrusting the picture at them. "I have reason to believe he may have taken a boat from this dock sometime earlier today." The two chronologically advantaged persons leaned forward to look at the picture short-sightedly.

"No," one said, just as the other said "Yes." They looked at each other and started arguing.

"Don't be stupid, you haven't seen anything all day-"

"Yes I did! I saw that guy take out the boat over there-"

"You can't even see over there! You're making this up!"

"I can see better than you can-"

"Well, at least I can still hear!"

Parker closed her eyes in misery, but felt a light tap on her shoulder. Broots was holding out the cell phone nervously. "It's Rachel; she wants to talk to you," he whispered softly. Parker snatched the phone.

"Tell me you've got something," she said without the pleasantries. Rachel responded in kind.

"A airplane ticket bought by a Jarod Sailor at Benton, an airport about thirty miles down the coast from where you are. The flight leaves at 4:30 for Chicago." Parker checked her watch. It was 4:23.

"Well?" Lyle said impatiently.

"That was Rachel," Miss Parker said, thinking hard. "She says that Jarod's booked on a flight out of Benton Airport."

"Great," Lyle broke in. Miss Parker willed him to take the bait. "I'll take the sweepers to the airport. Why don't you three stay here and, ah, interrogate these men, make sure they don't know anything useful?" Parker could hear the smile in Lyle's voice as he and the sweepers dashed back to the car and drove off with a squeal of tires.

"Why do I have the feeling you didn't tell Lyle all of what Rachel said?" Sydney asked with a smile.

"The flight leaves in about five minutes. They'll never make it," Miss Parker said dryly. "We're going to meet the flight when it lands in Chicago." She looked around. "How are you supposed to get a taxi in this place? Broots, find something that will get us back . . ."

Parker trailed off a taxi drove suddenly drove up. None of the three said anything as it rolled to a stop in front of them. The driver stuck his head out the window.

"Miss Parker?" he asked through a piece of gum he was chewing on. Parker found herself at a loss for words and just nodded. "Got a call you needed a ride." Parker whirled to look at Broots, but he looked even more befuddled than she was. Then she remembered what she was holding. Parker lifted the phone to her ear.

"Rachel?" she said.

"I hear that your taxi arrived." Even over the phone, the laugh in the girl's quiet voice was perceivable.

---

En route, a thought suddenly hit Parker. She lifted the phone again.

"Rachel?"

"I'm here."

"When you found the ticket at Benton, why did you ask to speak to me? You knew Lyle was there too."

There was a brief silence. Parker could almost hear Rachel forming her answer.

"Well, I trust you."

This time it was Parker's turn for a brief silence.

"Why?"

"You say exactly what's on your mind, or you let your voice convey that for you. It's nice to know where I stand with you."

"And Lyle . . ."

"Is harder to understand. I just always get the impression that he's hiding something."

"But if you understand me all that well, you know that I don't like you."

"Yes."

"Oh."

Parker lowered the phone and looked out the window for the rest of the trip. She failed to realize that she had just had a conversation with a person who had told her she was more or less transparent, and she hadn't been offended. Something about Rachel's voice made it impossible to be offended.

It was highly enjoyable to take the angry call from Lyle in mid-air ("Rachel found the destination and time of departure a few minutes after you left; we didn't have time to wait for you") and Parker was feeling satisfied as she leaned back for a brief rest on the flight to Chicago, knowing that she had gained what was turning out to be a valuable ally. There was something nagging at her, something that she had forgotten, but she ignored the thought and told herself she'd deal with it when she landed.

---

Just before they landed, Broots handed her the cell phone again.

"What?"

"Bad news. I've lost Jarod."

"What!"

"I've checked every out-going flight and every rental car place. No Jarod anywhere. He's disappeared without an electronic trace."

"Keep looking. Search every manifest manually if you have to."

"Alright, but I think that computers aren't going to help you anymore."

Parker sat up.

"Why do you say that?"

"Jarod's probably realized that a new element has been added to the game. Broots is an excellent computer technician, but he couldn't have found Jarod's site like I did. I believe that Jarod is going to play it safe until he figures out who I am, which means that he will probably use a different first name and stop dropping hints. You can try to find him, but I don't think you'll succeed."

"So how did he realize you were poking around in his site?" Parker snapped.

"I have no idea."

"Well, find out! But first, do another search for Jarod in the airport files."

"Alright." The response was very quiet and Parker savagely punched the button to disconnect her from the pretender. She looked up to find Sydney giving her a disapproving look, which she returned with an expression daring Sydney to say anything. Sydney looked away.

In the back of her mind, Parker knew she was being unreasonable, but she pushed the thought aside. If Rachel hadn't gone through the site with all the finesse of a water buffalo, Jarod wouldn't have got the wind up and left Marispont. We also wouldn't know he was in Marispont whispered the back of Miss Parker's mind. Almost angrily, Parker shook the thought off. Why was she letting a freak of nature make her feel guilty?

However, the freak was right. Without any information, there was little the three could do except wander through O'Hare and hope they'd run into Jarod. His flight had landed twenty minutes before theirs, and in those twenty minutes he could have done anything; taken another flight, rented a car, gone to a hotel. For all Parker knew he could have been the man guiding her plane in. Much as she hated to admit it, she was dependent upon the clues Jarod tossed her to find him, and if Jarod didn't want to be found for a while, he wasn't going to be found.

---

It was 1 in the morning when Parker returned to Centre. Sydney caught her elbow as she stormed off the plane.

"Parker, don't be too hard on Rachel. She did the best she could-"

"And it wasn't good enough." Parker wrenched her arm away from Sydney's light grasp. "And I intend to inform her of that."

She went directly down to the pretender's room. If the door hadn't been mechanical, she would have slammed it behind her. Rachel heard her enter and stiffened, but didn't turn around.

"That was disgraceful," Miss Parker started in fury.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said in an even quieter voice than normal. "I keep going over this, trying to figure out how Jarod discovered I had hacked into his site . . ." Rachel trailed off, still focused on her computer. "I might have it."

"Show me," Miss Parker said imperiously, crossing the room to Rachel's desk. The girl started to stand.

"Here, have a seat-" Rachel's knees gave out and she staggered, barely managing to catch herself on the desk. Parker pulled back in confusion as the girl, this time more slowly, stood again carefully. Suddenly Parker realized what she had forgotten.

"Rachel, have you rested since this morning?" she said. Rachel shook her head. "Or eaten?" Another shake. The part of Miss Parker's mind that she couldn't control played back Dr. Scott's words; "If you're working with her, you need to make sure you tell her to rest and eat, otherwise she will literally work until she drops."

Angry, but this time at herself for failing to recall Scott's instructions, Parker impatiently took Rachel by the arm.

"Come on. No more work tonight. You're going to bed," she half dragged the pretender the few steps to her bed.

"But I didn't finish-" Rachel protested feebly.

"You've done more than enough. You can't work if you're half dead from lack of sleep." Parker let the pretender roll into her bed and pulled the covers over her. "And don't get out of bed before 9:00." For a moment she thought Rachel would argue, but the girl was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Parker turned and almost jumped when she saw Sydney at the door, with a knowing smile on his face. Angry, though she didn't know why, she tossed her hair back and left G17.

"What are you smiling at?" she snapped as she brushed by him, but not before Sydney noticed that she had automatically walked on the balls of her feet across the room to muffle the noise her heels made on the concrete floor. He touched the button that would close the door without changing his smile.

Disclaimer; All characters herein (except Rachel) belong to NBC. Please consider this a tribute, not a theft.

Note to the reader; This is part three of a series. Please read the first two parts first or this will make no sense whatsoever. Thank you.



None So Blind
part 3
Sarah Lynn




After losing Jarod in Chicago, Miss Parker didn't hear from him for another five weeks. Rachel and Broots spent all their time surfing the Internet, but so far nothing had come up. Miss Parker was even desperate enough not to raise any objections to Dr. Scott's plan to introduce Rachel to what she called the 'final member of the team.' Miss Parker had almost forgotten that Angelo was officially on the Jarod Project.

If Dr. Scott had hoped for a dramatic meeting, she was disappointed. Angelo was his usual distant self, and though Rachel was her usual polite self, it was clear she didn't believe that Angelo would add anything to the project. The next day Miss Parker returned to G17, more out of curiosity to see how the two were getting along than the hope that Rachel would actually find anything. Which is why it was such a shock to her when Rachel did.

"I think I may have something, Miss Parker," Rachel said, but even as Parker crossed the room she could here the doubt in the pretender's voice.

"What's wrong?"

Rachel was frowning in the general direction of the screen, one hand on her earphones. Angelo was leaning against the wall, staring in fascination at the pretender. Miss Parker ignored him.

"Well, take a look."

Miss Parker looked as bidden. The site had a bright green background and flashing magenta words that almost hurt the eyes. It took Miss Parker a moment to read the heading;

WELCOME TO JAROD'S SITE!!! SEE WHAT I'VE BEEN DOING SINCE I ESCAPED THE
CENTRE!!

"I rather suspect he wanted us to find this site," Rachel said sheepishly.

Parker's brain told her mouth to ask what date the site had been put up, but to her surprise another question came out instead. "How do you know what the screen says?"

Evidently Rachel hadn't been expecting the question either, because it took her a moment to answer.

"Well, my program reads the words off the screen into my headphones. That technology is available to the public, but my program also reads the codes and options as well. And I can use a keyboard to input commands rather than a mouse click. Those are the generalities of it; there's a lot more little, specific things as well, but you get the main idea."

"Yes," Parker said even more briskly than usual, annoyed with herself for wasting time on a trivial question. "When was this site put up?" she asked in her normal voice, glowering at the gaudy image before her.

"I don't know yet. It hasn't finished loading and I can't read the . .." Rachel trailed off as her eyes widened in shock.

"What!" Miss Parker exclaimed. Rachel turned her head back to the screen, and Miss Parker looked to see a new message underneath the first phrase;

A SPECIAL WELCOME IS EXTENDED TO RACHEL OF ERYLL'S TOWER, IL!

"Is that . . ."

"Me." Rachel said weakly.

Parker straightened up sharply. "How did he find you? And what's Eryll's Tower?" she asked, angry that once again Jarod seemed to know more about her life than she did.

"I don't know. A building in Illinois." It occurred to Parker that this pretender was surprised and frightened too at Jarod's seemingly omniscient knowledge of her life.

"Just overlook it," Parker said, trying to sound soothing. "Jarod's trying to distract you from your work."

"Yes," Rachel gave her head a small shake and leaned back in her chair. Parker assumed that she was refocusing on the site. A few moments later her assumption was confirmed when Rachel said in her normal voice; "This site was posted yesterday."

"Anything else?" Parker demanded.

A few more taps at the keyboard. "No. Jarod was careful when he built this site."

Miss Parker stalked angrily away to what had become her chair at the table on the other side of the room. "So you're saying this is just another joke."

"Well, yes, but not necessarily a waste of time," Rachel was frowning in concentration. "If I were Jarod, collecting information on a new factor, I'd go to Eryll Tower myself to look."

"Excellent," the compliment slipped out while Parker was distracted with deciding what to do next. "Eryll Tower is, I assume, where you grew up?" After an affirmative from Rachel Miss Parker went on; "Where exactly is it?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, a surprised tone in her voice. "You'd have to ask Dr. Scott." Parker mentally kicked herself. Of course Rachel didn't know. She probably didn't even know it was in Illinois.

"I will," and Miss Parker strode toward the door. "Keep working on this. If you find anything new you can reach me on my cell phone."

"Ah, Miss Parker?" The pretender's voice stopped Miss Parker as she was running her ID card through the lock on the door. "I don't have a phone."

"It's connected to the Internet," Miss Parker replied, and turned away again, but was stopped a second time.

"Is it?" Rachel's voice projected her interest. "I didn't know of that technology. Could I see-"

"Later," Miss Parker snapped and shut the door before Rachel could say anything else. Still, she was almost pleased at the question as she went down the hall. Between Jarod's smug, know-it-all attitude and Rachel's quiet confidence, she had almost begun to believe that pretenders were omniscient.

---

It took almost an hour of phone calls, threats, and bargaining to get the exact location of the Centre's annex in Illinois, but at long last Miss Parker got it. She returned to G17 to bring Rachel up to speed, and was surprised to find Rachel sitting at the table across from Lyle. Her surprise turned to irritation when she realized that Lyle was sitting in her chair.

"Taking a break, Rachel?" Miss Parker inquired sweetly. Rachel almost turned her chair over in her haste to stand.

"Oh, Miss Parker, I'm sorry-" Parker cut off the pretender's apology.

"It's fine. Eryll's Tower is a building complex on the northeast edge of Springfield. See what you can do with that." Rachel moved quickly back to her computer, and Miss Parker took the seat she left vacant. Lyle smiled at her.

"Nice to see you trust me enough to tell me what you're looking for," he said softly after waiting for Rachel to put on her headphones and begin tapping at the keyboard.

Miss Parker matched his smile and level of volume in her reply, "Hardly. How much time did you spend with Rachel? You probably already got all the information she knows out of her."

Lyle's broader smile confirmed her guess. "I can't help it if she trusts me," he said smugly, leaning back in his chair and looking at Rachel. Parker allowed herself a smug smile of her own as she remembered Rachel's words to her on the last case. Lyle was blinder than Rachel if he thought the pretender trusted him. She leaned back herself to wait.

"Jarod Lincoln, checked into a Thrifty Traveler through January 15th," Rachel finally announced. Lyle checked his watch.

"That's the day after tomorrow," he said.

"I guess we'd better go then," Miss Parker snapped; already halfway out the door. "Rachel, take an hour for lunch and then see if you can find anything else," she called over her shoulder.

"It won't work!" All three jumped at the sudden outburst from Angelo. Miss Parker had completely forgotten he was there.

"What won't work?" Lyle snapped.

Angelo buried his head in his hands and started muttering intensely to himself. All Miss Parker could make out were the words "Bad, bad," repeated over and over. She hesitated for another moment, then dismissed the thought and headed for the door.

"Ah, Miss Parker?" Rachel's voice was tense. Miss Parker turned to see the pretender sitting rigidly in her chair, pulled as far away as possible from Angelo. With a sigh Parker went back into the room again, ignoring Lyle as he brushed by her. She stalked over to where Angelo was leaning against the wall.

"Alright, Angelo," she said impatiently. "Visiting hours are over. Let's go." Angelo pushed his head harder into his arms. "Angelo, do I need to get the sweepers?" she asked more loudly. Reluctantly, Angelo lifted his head and looked up at her. Parker stared back angrily. She snapped "Don't think I won't do it," and finally Angelo lurched to his feet. He dragged his feet to the door, never taking his eyes off Rachel, ignoring Parker's angry glare. The empath stopped again at the door, uttered one final "Bad!" and then left, his shoulders hunched like a man who's failed an important task he'd set himself.

"Whatever," Parker muttered. "Now, Rachel-" Rachel jumped nervously. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Take an hour for lunch, and then keep looking. I believe we've already established how you can contact me." Parker left the pretender still sitting rigidly in front of her computer without guilt. If the girl couldn't handle Angelo, it wasn't Parker's job to comfort her.

Much to Parker's irritation, it took almost two and a half hours to assemble the needed people, much of which was spent waiting for Lyle. Getting a phone call from a secretary who politely informed her that some unexpected business had come up and Mr. Lyle would not be able to make the flight didn't improve her mood. Just before the take-off, her phone started beeping.

"What."

"It's me." Parker sat up slightly at Rachel's quiet voice. "Just calling to say I've got an exact address on that motel." Parker wrote down the information, which included directions on how to get there from the airport.

"I got it. Bye."

"Ah, Miss Parker?"

"What?"

"I, ah, just wanted to say good luck and be careful. Jarod's still got his guard up. You've got everyone there with you to help, right?"

Parker was too tired to explain Lyle's no-show. "Yes."

"Good. I think you'll need everyone."

"Is that it?"

"Um, yes."

"Fine." Miss Parker hung up to find Sydney watching her once again. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he turned away, smiling that irritating smile again. Parker stared out the window for almost the entire trip.

In Springfield Parker, Sydney, and Broots found the motel with relative ease. It was small, but clean. Miss Parker approached the desk clerk with a flat smile.

"Hello, I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine here, a Jarod Lincoln-" she said with forced pleasantness. "-but he forget to tell me what room he's in. Could you just look that up for me?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't give out that information," the clerk said brightly and cheerfully, in what was no doubt the approved response for Thrifty Travelers clerks to give. "If you like, however, I can ring his room for you."

"That's not necessary," Miss Parker started, but the clerk was already tapping away at her keyboard. She looked up, her forehead creased.

"You did say Jarod Lincoln, right?"

"Yes," Miss Parker glanced around the lobby for any sign of Jarod.

"Spelled like Abraham Lincoln?"

"Yes," Parker said in irritation. "Look, it doesn't matter, I'll-"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but there's no one here registered under that name." Broots almost dropped the laptop he was carrying and Parker snapped her head around. Sydney didn't react beyond blinking his eyes.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Miss Parker snapped.

"There's no Mr. Lincoln," the clerk repeated with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Perhaps we have the last name wrong," Sydney stepped in. "Would it be possible for you to run a check to see if there are any Jarods here?"

The clerk returned to her keyboard, and tapped a few more keys. A few seconds later she looked up and shook her head.

"Maybe he just checked out," Miss Parker said suddenly. "Check back- Could you check back through your records?" she corrected herself.

"I'm sorry, it would appear that no Jarod Lincoln, no Lincoln, and no Jarod have stayed here since the beginning of this month, which is as far back as my computer records go," the clerk said politely. Miss Parker gave her companions a confused stare, which they returned. After a few seconds, she turned and stormed away.

"I'm sorry you didn't find what you were looking for but I hope you'll come back again real soon," the clerk called after them, still cheerful. Parker whirled and was about to tell the girl her chances of seeing any of them again, but was struck by the eager to please look on her face. The clerk was tall and blond, but Parker was suddenly reminded of-

"Rachel," she said out loud, walking through the parking lot, not seeing where she was going.

"I don't understand," Broots clasped his laptop. "Did she make a mistake?"

But Parker wasn't listening. Thoughts were whirling through her head.

"That seems to be the logical conclusion," Sydney answered Broots. "Remember, just because she's a pretender doesn't make her infallible."

Set a pretender to catch a pretender. Rachel's almost obsequious manner, that low-pitched voice that was so calming to listen to.

"Maybe he's in another Thrifty Traveler."

This was the second time they had traveled on short notice, only to find Jarod gone. Of course, that's always what had happened before, but . ..

"Maybe."

Dr. Scott was spending all her time with the other child, only Parker and Lyle were taking an interest in Rachel. And when they had gone on their last trip, no one had even noticed that the girl hadn't rested or eaten for fifteen hours until they had come back.

"Should I check other motels in this area?"

Rachel had asked just before she left if everyone was on board the plane. And Miss Parker had lied. Rachel didn't know that Lyle was still there.

"Miss Parker?" Broots gingerly tapped her on the shoulder. "I said, should I check the other motels in this area?" Parker ignored him as she pulled out her cell phone. Part of her wasn't surprised to find the screen blinking an error message as she recalled Rachel's interest in the phone.

"Broots, what's wrong with this phone?" she snapped, shoving the phone at him. Broots looked at her blankly. "Take it!" she yelled. Broots fumbled with the phone for a few moments before looking up.

"Is this connected to the Internet?"

"Yes!" it took all Parker's willpower not to bounce up and down in impatience.

After an eternity, Broots looked up again in confusion. "Well," he said with infuriating slowness, "It looks like someone is overloading the Internet portion of your phone with information, but that can't be right. It's never been done before. It would take-"

"A genius," Miss Parker finished for him, already several steps ahead.

"Jarod?" Broots said incredulously.

"No. Rachel." Miss Parker jumped into the car and Broots and Sydney barely made it in before she peeled out.

Parker spent the flight home pacing up and down the aisle while Broots tinkered with the phone. Sydney divided his attention between the two of them.

"Parker, why do you think it was Rachel who jammed your phone?" he finally asked.

"Can't you see, Sydney?" Parker asked in frustration. She had used Sydney's phone to call the Centre and had reached the answering service. If anyone had tried to contact her, she had missed them. Sydney just looked at her blankly. She sighed. "Well, if you can't, maybe I'm wrong." And more than that she would not say.

The Centre was deserted by the time they arrived back. Parker's hand hesitated over the pad in the elevator. Sydney and Broots exchanged a puzzled glance before Miss Parker moved her hand away from SL25 and pushed the button for the floor for their room. She was the only one not surprised to find Angelo sitting in the middle of the floor, rocking back and forth, still muttering "Bad," to himself. Sydney went to him, as Broots automatically started cleaning his desk.

"Going somewhere?" Miss Parker asked pointedly.

Broots looked at her in amazement. "Miss Parker, it's 5:00 in the morning. I need to get home-"

"Not until we've checked on-"

"Miss Parker!" She turned at Sydney's call to see him coaxing something out of Angelo's grip. A DSA. Parker quickly crossed the room, snatched the disc away from Angelo, and started loading it, ignoring the empath's howls of protest. Before Sydney could object in earnest, the DSA started. But instead of the heading they were used to, the recording started with "Rachel, For Centre Use Only."

The scene was a hallway with doors, which looked so different in black and white it took Parker a moment to recognize one door as G17. She closed her eyes as the door suddenly opened and a small figure emerged cautiously, groping her way along the wall.

"Is that-" Broots gasped.

"Shut up," Parker said.

The camera followed the figure as she carefully took measured steps along the hallway until she reached an air vent. She cocked her head to the side, as if listening for anything, and then pulled out something from her pants pocket, which she used to remove the screws from the cover. After a minute, she removed the cover and pulled herself with a small grunt into the air vent. As her shoes disappeared from sight, the picture changed to another air vent cover. Suddenly the cover shuddered, then broke away from the wall as the same pair of shoes burst through. With the care the figure slid down and replaced the cover after her. She walked with more confidence as she moved down the hall and around a corner. The camera changed again to show her coming around the corner, and then freezing.

"Hello, Rachel," Lyle said with a smile as the camera moved back to capture him too.

Rachel instinctively tried to run, but a sweeper was already behind her and pushed her forwards, toward Lyle. The camera angle kept expanding to show Lyle, another sweeper, Mr. Parker, and in the corner, Dr. Scott. She was regarding Rachel with a look of pure hatred.

"How did you know?" Scott asked in a voice pitched as low as Rachel's, but notably lacking in gentleness.

"After I left Rachel's room this afternoon I found that my cell phone was malfunctioning. When the repairman said it was deliberately inflicted damage, I began to wonder. When I discovered my Centre ID card missing from my wallet, things began to fall into place. What's wrong, Rachel?" Lyle asked in mock sympathy. "Did you decide that the honor of being a pretender wasn't for you?" The two sweepers laughed loudly. Rachel flinched but drew herself to her full height, which looked pitifully small beside Lyle's six feet, and kept her face impassive.

"Still, I have to hand it to you," Lyle continued cheerfully, "you're an excellent pickpocket. Especially considering that you've never been able to practice on anyone before me, since Dr. Scott here is the only person you've been in close contact with when you were growing up and she's never reported anything like that." All eyes swiveled away from Rachel to the redhead in the corner whose expression changed for a moment to a guarded one strikingly similar to Rachel's.

"Dr. Scott?" Mr. Parker prompted.

The doctor looked away, then bit her lip and turned back. "When she was twelve I caught her taking a piece of candy from my pocket. However," she hurried desperately, seeing Mr. Parker's expression, "she was severely punished for that and she never picked my pocket again."

"Don't you mean you never caught her picking your pocket again?" Lyle asked with a broad grin.

"I checked my pockets every time I went in and out of her room for a year after that," Scott sniffed, trying to regain some of what she had lost.

"Yes, but that only works if you were assuming Rachel was stealing. What if she was just practicing, taking things out of your pockets and putting them back in before you noticed?" Lyle pressed. Dr. Scott's face paled. "In fact, it would seem a lot of your assumptions about Rachel are wrong." The doctor looked at the girl, and an idea bloomed on her face.

"Rachel," Dr. Scott said, forcing some of her old imperiousness back into her voice, "how could you do this?" She pushed past Lyle and approached the pretender, who took a step back and dropped her head. "I hope you're ashamed of yourself. If you think you're going anywhere near your books and computer again for the next month, you've got another think coming." Scott took another step, hope beginning to dawn on her face as the pretender's shoulders began to shake. "How could you try to run away from the Centre, from me, after all I've done for you-"

Dr. Scott was suddenly cut off when Rachel threw her head back in a harsh, bitter laugh. "How much you've done for me?" she cried in fury that almost matched Dr. Scott's earlier expression. It was impossible to compare the two now since Scott's face showed nothing but shock. "How stupid do you think I am? You give these impossible problems that people twice, three times my age can't do, and then expect me to not notice that I'm a slave!"

"Rachel!" Scott grabbed the girl by the arms and shook her. "Don't talk like that!"

Mr. Parker cleared his throat. "I think I've seen all I need to see," he intoned.

Scott turned. "Please, sir," she said with a ghastly smile. "Clearly there are some, ah, flaws with Rachel, but the new child, well, we all learn from our mistakes-"

"Mistakes of this magnitude are unacceptable," Mr. Parker cut her off. "Dr. Jennifer Scott, your services are no longer needed at the Centre. Lyle?"

Rachel caught the meaning before Scott did and flung herself to the floor as the shot rang out. A moment later, Scott also fell on top of the girl. Rachel screamed and pushed the body away, scrambling along the floor until she literally ran into a sweeper, who pulled her up and held her tightly by the shoulders.

"Thank you," Mr. Parker said calmly. "Your request to take control of the Rachel Project has been confirmed. Best of luck." And Mr. Parker walked out of the screen, presumably home, ignoring Rachel's tiny cry of fright.

Lyle walked slowly across the room, letting his footsteps ring. Any composure Rachel had was gone and she struggled desperately to get free of the hands gripping her. Lyle grabbed her chin and held her face still, his own face only inches away. Slowly Rachel's struggles died, but her breathing was still fast and rapid.

"You're mine," he hissed into her face. Rachel stopped breathing for an instant and Lyle let her ride the terror as he brought his face closer to hers . . . Until she suddenly spat in his face. With a howl of rage, Lyle jerked back and slapped her hard across the face. The sweeper let her fall to the ground as Lyle drew back his leg for a kick and

The screen went black.

"WHAT HAPPENED!" Miss Parker screamed.

Broots' fingers flew. "I guess that's the end," he stammered, his eyes wide with horror. "The end of the recording, that is-"

"I know what you meant!" she snapped. "Come on!" She and Sydney ran for the elevator as the DSA began running again. Broots looked at the screen, and for the first time noticed the hour.

"But Miss Parker!" Broots cried after her. "This was recorded at 9:46 last night! It's too late!"

Neither Parker nor Sydney heard. They were already gone.

Disclaimer; Parker, Jarod, Broots, etc. belong to NBC. No profit is being made off this story.

Note to readers; This is the fourth part of a series. Please read the other parts first, or you're going to be really confused.




None So Blind
part 4
Sarah Lynn



Blood wasn't running through her veins any more, pain had taken ist place. In her mind she could see it travel through her body, making sure nothing went unfelt, and then returning to her heart. Gradually,
she came to a slow realization of herself. She was lying on the floor of her room after that disastrous night. She didn't have to check to know that her computer and books were gone and that life as she knew it had come to an abrupt end. To describe the sim as unproductive would be to make a gross understatement, as Dr. Scott would say.

Dr. Scott.

No! Don't think about that. Or about Him.

Why had she said sim? It was painfully clear that this was not a simulation, but her very real life. Had Dr. Sc- Had they been right? Had they really warped her so much she was unable to handle reality? The first and only thing she had tried on her own and she was a failure. What had gone wrong? Was it just bad luck? Is there such a thing as luck? Why-

The door's machinery hissed its signal that someone was outside. Instinctively she contracted her muscles and held her breath. If it was Him, she couldn't think of a thing she could do to save her life . . .

Click. Click.

She almost cried in relief at the familiar sound of Miss Parker's high heels, but she didn't. Her instinct wouldn't let her move, but held her down in unreasonable terror.

"Rachel!" The high heels quickly moved the eleven and a half paces it took to cross the room, but just as she thought she was safe, she froze again. There was another set of footsteps crossing with Miss Parker's, a man's by the slap of flat leather soles. It could be Him. Then suddenly, there were hands, touching her. She couldn't help it as one instinct gave way to another and she wrenched away with a cry, curling up into a defensive position, head buried under her arms.

"Sydney, what's wrong with her?" Miss Parker's alto talked about her like she wasn't even there. The part of her that still could took comfort in the normality.

"Rachel-" yes, that distinctively accented baritone was Sydney's- "-calm down. We're not going to hurt you. Can you tell us what happened?" It was the textbook opening for a psychologist trying to establish a dialog. She desperately wished she had done more research on his background instead of focusing on Miss Parker and Mr. Lyle. For all she knew, Sydney could be as abusive as Him.

"Sydney?" Miss Parker's voice held an unusual uncertainty as the seconds ticked away and she made no response. What Sydney would have said she never knew, since at that moment Miss Parker's beeper went off.

Miss Parker swore and she could hear her voice change altitude as she stood up and moved away, presumably to check the message. Sydney leaned in, then thought better of it and backed up as he began quietly talking again, but was interrupted by Miss Parker when she said a word Dr. Scott had never taught her the meaning of.

"Sydney, it's from my father. There's a meeting in his office right now that we've been invited to." No! she wanted to scream. She had already pretended Him and knew that at the first opportunity he would cut off her access to anyone not under his control; a list that definitely included Miss Parker. If they left now, so would her hope of assistance. And last night's catastrophe had clearly shown her inability to do anything right by herself.

"Parker, we can't just leave her here," Sydney protested, but the volume of his voice changed. He was standing up. She pressed her face and arms into the ground. "At least let's get her off the floor."

"Fine, but we need to hurry." Miss Parker's voice was back in ist normal, irritated tone. She tried to brace herself for what she knew was coming, but those instincts, bred deeply into her psyche, frantically lashed out at the hands that were trying to lift her as she screamed. Mercifully, it only lasted for a few seconds before the hands pulled back.

"Perhaps you'd better do it, Parker," Sydney suggested quietly.

"Me?" A moment of silence, which she mentally filled in with the silent communication that was no doubt passing between the two, and then the high heels cautiously started towards her. "Rachel?" She reminded herself that this was her last chance, that she knew Miss Parker, and that Miss Parker wouldn't hurt her (or to be more accurate, wouldn't hurt her more than she'd already been hurt). It was that knowledge that allowed her will to finally overcome her instincts as she let Miss Parker touch her without flinching away.

"Okay, Rachel," the alto was surprisingly gentle, "We're going to get up and go to your bed. Ready?" It was far harder to allow Miss Parker's hands to lift her from the safety of the floor into the air. Much to her relief, she realized after a moment that she had the strength to stand on her own and started to pull away from Miss Parker, but quickly changed her mind and slumped against her. She needed Miss Parker's sympathy, and had decided long ago that displays of weakness were the way to Miss Parker's heart.

It seemed to be working. Miss Parker was going very slowly and gently across the room.

"Parker, I'm going to go ahead of you to the meeting," Sydney suddenly broke in. Yes, go! she thought. Removing witnesses would increase the chances of assistance from Miss Parker. Miss Parker must have made some kind of response because the soles slapped away as the door hissed again twice.

With that same surprising gentleness, Miss Parker lowered her onto the bed, but she could feel that it wasn't enough. Miss Parker was too set in her thinking, she needed to do something else to shake Miss Parker enough. But there was only one more thing she could think of to do . . . There was no other way. She resigned herself to the final humiliation, reminded herself of the future, and allowed her hair to fall back from her face as she settled in the bed. She was rewarded with a gasp and another curse.

"Did Lyle do this to you?" Miss Parker demanded in fury. Suddenly a finger touched the side of her face, swollen from cheekbone to jaw. It was enough. She rolled over and shook her hair over her face again.

"Rachel-" Miss Parker started, then stopped. Against her will, her fist clenched the blanket. "Rachel," Miss Parker started again. Do it, she willed. "I know it was Lyle who did this to you, and I know you must feel pretty helpless about now. But don't worry, I won't let Lyle hurt you again." This was it! "I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. I'll talk to my father, and get you assigned to me."

Her heart didn't sink, it shattered.

"I have a lot of influence-" Lyle had more "-and I'm sure that I can getmy father to see things my way-" no she couldn't "-so don't be afraid. You'll be safe with me. And with Sydney and Broots," Miss Parker added as an afterthought. A blanket was pulled around her numb shoulders, and the long coat flapped against her hands as Miss Parker leaned over her awkwardly. Almost automatically she saw her chance and took it. A second later the high heels went clicking confidently away, carrying most of her hope with them. But not all of it.

She listened to the silence as she clutched Miss Parker's cell phone tightly. A plan was spinning itself out in her brain, ignoring the voice that said it could never work. But why not? At the meeting, He would manage somehow to cut off Miss Parker's access to her, and then leave her in this room to let her imagination torture her for the rest of the morning. She stuck her hand under the mattress, and was amazed to find that no one had found what she'd hidden there in case a contingency plan was necessary. No one would be in for at least seven hours, which should be more than enough time. Then why didn't she get up?

She turned her mind inward and focused on herself. She was afraid. She was experiencing all the doubt that comes after failure, but it was magnified a hundredfold by virtue of the fact she had never truly done anything on her own before. Despite the rewards and punishments system, she had never really felt the results of a failure before, and was now paralyzed by the fear of another failure with even worse results. What could possibly be worse? she asked herself, and shuddered as her overly-trained mind presented idea after gruesome idea. Pushing the ideas and the blanket away, she struggled upwards to a sitting position in an attempt to think more clearly. Her mind, almost of its own accord, predicted her chances of survival if she stayed, and she shuddered again. There was no help for it. She couldn't stay in the Centre, she had to leave. Her mind was still analyzing, so she left it to analyze on its own as she opened the phone.

If she believed in God, she would have thanked him she had taken the precaution yesterday (only yesterday?) to cut off Miss Parker from the Centre by jamming her phone. She summoned up all her memories of the workings of the Internet connection. She had no way to read what the phone said; she would have to do this by trial and error. Still, it was with surprising speed that she began to tap the buttons.

It took almost an hour to access the Centre's computers through the Internet, another fifteen minutes to input the command to open her door, and five minutes to work up the nerve to pull herself to her feet. She almost fell as she went through the door and just barely managed to catch the wall. Strength is down, both mentally and physically her mind informed her, but it was a small matter. She had rehearsed her plan in her head several times a day for the past few weeks. Hopefully, it was deep enough in her memory that she could do it without thinking too much.

The slow crawl through the air vents took forever (or to be more accurate, it seemed to take forever). With every foot she traveled she found a new bruise on her hands and knees. Furthermore, she forced herself to go slowly and carefully, not making any noise at all. That had been her mistake last night, she had been too eager, had taken too many shortcuts. This was her last chance to get it right. There could be no unnecessary risk. But noise and other physical obstacles were the least of her concerns. Despite the Centre, she could control her physical surroundings to a greater extent than they thought possible; it was controlling herself she was worried about. She had predicted the (high) probability that escape after years in the Centre would induce either claustrophobia at this point or agoraphobia once she was outside. She had hoped it would be the claustrophobia, but much to her dismay, she felt mentally comfortable in the cramped vents. That meant when she got outside . . . No. Don't think about it now. Just keep crawling.

And then suddenly forever was over. Her heart was hammering as she tentatively pushed the screen aside and she shivered at the gust of cold air. She hung back, checking her pockets to make sure she still had everything that she had hidden earlier, then braced herself and slid out into the real world.

The real world was freezing.

She gasped out loud at the icy wind that cut through her thin shirt and pants, and at the moisture which almost immediately soaked through her cloth tennis shoes. How could she have forgotten to consider the weather? What else had she forgotten? Quickly she reviewed her options. The plan called for her to travel on foot (approximately 100 yards straight forward to the road then approximately a quarter mile down the highway) to a bus station. She wouldn't make it without something more. Reluctantly she turned back and hoisted herself back into the Centre. It was even more reluctantly she left again ten minutes later, this time with an enormous coat stolen from the lost-and-found, which was mercifully close to her exit. Fortunately, the snow wasn't deep and she set off at the fastest walk she could manage towards the road.

Despite the exertion, she was still shivering as she swung up onto the bus. The cold was such a shock it took her a minute to realize that she had done it. For the first time in her life she wasn't in a Centre building (but she wasn't free yet). She sat in the back, her hands clenched tightly in her lap and her head tilted to the side as she listened with all her ability for any hint of a pursuit. Reaching the airport with a head start of at least two hours was crucial if she wanted this to go off without a hitch. Her hands clenched tighter as she remembered that there had already been a hitch, but she pushed the thought away. She couldn't let that distract her. Instead she focused all her willpower into staying alert.

---

There had been silence in Parker, Broots, and Sydney's room since the meeting that morning, a silence broken only by Parker's heels tapping the floor as she paced back and forth. Broots found it to be unnerving, but decided that it would be extremely unwise to irritate Miss Parker for any reason at all. Her expression was so fierce a blind person could have felt it. Immediately he was thankful he hadn't voiced that thought aloud.

"I am not going to let this happen," she said suddenly.

"How do you intend to do that?" Sydney asked, but his face showed the same resolution just as strongly.

"I'll think of something. I'll take it all the way to the Triumvirate if I have to," Parker vowed as she paced the same route back and forth.

"But what can we do?" Broots finally managed to work up the nerve to join the conversation. For the first time since he could remember, neither Parker nor Sydney had an answer for him. The silence fell again, punctuated by Miss Parker's heels.

"Look," Sydney said finally, "It's almost noon. Why don't I order out for some Chinese-"

Miss Parker whirled on him. "How can you think of food now?" she snapped.

Sydney looked at her patiently. "Parker, not eating isn't going to help us get Rachel away from Lyle. It's very upsetting, but we must be calm about it . . ."

"You be calm about it! I'm going to get upset," Parker almost yelled. Sydney didn't say anything, but waited for her to calm down. A minute later she threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll even order it myself," she said wearily as she fumbled in her pockets for her cell phone, then froze abruptly.

"What's wro-" Broots started to ask, but cut himself off as he saw what Parker had seen.

"Hello, all," Lyle said cheerfully as he strolled down the stairs. "My, aren't we quiet today," he tossed out into the stony silence that greeted him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Miss Parker hissed through her teeth.

"Just came by to remind you that your card no longer gives you access to G17," Lyle drawled. "I'd hate for you to waste your time by going all the way down there only to be locked out."

"Sure you would," Miss Parker said, twisting her mouth in a smile. "Leave. I'm busy," she ordered as she tried to find her cell phone so she looked like she was doing something.

"What are you doing?" Lyle asked in amusement at Parker's growing discomfiture.

"Don't you have a hole you need to be crawling back into right about now?" Parker asked with as much calm as she could muster.

"Hey, I offered you the chance to work with me early on," Lyle held up his hands. "You gambled and lost. By the way, I tried to reach you on your cell phone earlier and it was still jammed. Broots hasn't figured out how to break Rachel's program yet?"

Miss Parker blinked, but replied "Broots undid the damage last night on the plane. Maybe it's you who should be making sure Rachel didn't do anything to your phone."

For an answer Lyle pulled out his phone and held it out to show the normal display. "I've shown you mine, now you show me yours."

Parker rolled her eyes. "Why are we having a fight about cell phones?" she asked the ceiling.

"So, your computer wizard here couldn't break the program?" Lyle gloated at finding a weakness.

"He broke it, I just haven't seen my phone since this morn-" Suddenly Parker's face dropped the anger and took on a new expression, this time of shock.

"What?" Lyle asked.

Miss Parker's eyes slowly lost their far-away look, and turned back to him. "Have you seen Rachel since the meeting this morning?" she asked in a tight voice.

---

The agoraphobia didn't hit in the open air outside the Centre, it attacked her in the airport. She stood petrified just inside the swirling mass of humanity, realizing that she had no one to help her and no idea where to begin. Bodies and bags bumped into her and vanished away into the maelstrom of noise without so much as a muttered apology. Thousands of sounds assaulted her on every side; she couldn't isolate any of them. She staggered to one side and somehow made it to the wall without being killed by one of the frantic, shoving noises. A minute of leaning against the cold solidity of concrete reassured her and she nervously approached a passer-by, still keeping one hand on the wall.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for-" He didn't even stop, but just brushed by. It took seven more people before one of them impatiently told her that the line for ticket buyers was immediately in front of her.

She made herself leave the safety of the wall, and after a few more bumps, had secured herself a place in the line. Nervously she played with the cards in her pocket that she'd gathered slowly and carefully over the past few weeks. It was all come down to this. Months of planning . . .

"Next!" a voice called over the hubbub.

"That's you, dear," said a friendly mezzo-soprano behind her.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she stepped forward.

---

Miss Parker hadn't seen an uproar like one the Centre was in since Jarod escaped. The only good thing was that her father limited his screaming at her to a brief outburst on checking her pockets before he turned and chewed Lyle out in front of the staff for disgraceful negligence and his inability to read the pretender's mind. Reviewing the DSA of Rachel's escape from her room didn't help Lyle much either since it was clear that at one point Rachel had retrieved something from under her mattress. Mr. Parker then delivered another tirade on improper searches. Furthermore, she happened to see Lyle at one point slink off to a corner and quickly flip through his wallet. Words couldn't express the delight she took in seeing his face turn a shade redder as he looked through his wallet again, this time more carefully, then clap it shut and storm away. Miss Parker slipped away herself at the first opportunity.

Sydney had had to leave to do other work, and the long-suffering Broots had fallen asleep at his desk. She dropped her hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. "Rachel has at least one of Lyle's credit cards," she said as soon as the head lifted an inch from the desk. "I need you to check the accounts for recent purchases- Broots, what's wrong with you?" she shook him harder as his head dropped again.

"I haven't slept in thirty hours," his muffled voice muttered from where it was buried in his arms.

"Neither have I," Miss Parker pointed out, "And I'm fine."

"I don't drink as much coffee as you do," Broots grumbled, lifting his head from his arms.

"Come to think of it, Rachel hasn't slept either," Parker mused to herself, ignoring Broots' whining. "Good, she's more likely to make mistakes."

The meaning of what she said suddenly struck Broots. "You're going after Rachel?" he asked in befuddlement, trying to shake the fog away from his brain.

"Of course," Miss Parker said, sitting down across the room and picking up a magazine. "This is a finders, keepers situation. Whichever one of us gets to her first gets the glory, and probably her along with it."

"Us?"

"Lyle and me," she explained impatiently. "You don't really want Lyle to find her, do you?"

"Of course not, but-"

"Then start looking," Parker was already flipping through the magazine.

Broots stared at his computer for a moment. "Um, Miss Parker?"

"Yes?"

"You wouldn't happen to know which credit card Rachel has, do you?"

"How would I know?" Miss Parker said indifferently. "Just check them all."

"Do you know how long that's going to take?" Broots protested feebly. Miss Parker lowered her magazine and arched an eyebrow at the computer technician. "Fine," Broots muttered after a minute.

"Thank you."

---

She tried to look relaxed in the waiting chair, absently worrying open a tear in the plastic cover. The registration stage of the plan had gone surprisingly well. The only thing she hadn't anticipated was the special treatment she'd received on account of her blindness. She'd known that she would be a distinctive person easily remembered once the Centre got here and began asking questions, but she hadn't expected to have to fight off suggestions of reminders, of escorts, and of other special treatment, every word of which made her more and more memorable. But it was all over. Now all she could do was wait to board and hope she'd been clever enough. By now the Centre must have noticed her disappearance and He would have been humiliated. If He caught her now . . . She shivered as she absently traced the bruise on her cheek.

---

"Alright." Broots pushed his chair back from the computer, rubbing his eyes.

"You've got something?" Miss Parker asked, folding her magazine.

"Yes," Broots leaned forward to peer at the tiny print of the screen. "A purchase on Lyle's MasterCard of a plane ticket at the airport. A flight to New York that left a half-hour ago."

"Get the plane," Parker ordered as she strode out of the room. Five minutes later she strode back in and stopped abruptly as she saw the chagrined look on Broots' face.

"Lyle beat us, didn't he?" she guessed, and was rewarded with a sheepish shrug. She turned and slammed her fist against the wall. Broots flinched. Parker stood, fist on wall, head on fist, for almost a full minute before she suddenly looked up.

"That was too easy," she announced.

"What do you mean?" Broots asked nervously at Parker's avoidance of reality.

"I mean that you found the ticket in an hour, and Lyle found it in even less time. Rachel's too smart for that, there's got to be a catch. Look at the airline registers for other Rachels who bought tickets today."

Parker stood over Broots' shoulder as he checked, which made him nervous, but again he didn't have the nerve to ask her to move. Still, he came up with a list of eleven names relatively quickly.

"Rachel Lyle?" Parker said out loud.

"That's the name she used to buy the ticket for the flight that Lyle's going after," Broots confirmed.

"I'd love to see what she did for ID for that one," Parker muttered. "Well, keep looking and tell me when you find her."

"I found her," Broots said quickly.

Miss Parker turned back towards him. "That was fast. How do you know?"

"Trust me," Broots said. "This is her." Parker leaned toward the screen to look, and her jaw dropped.

"What is this!" she demanded, in combined shock and anger.

"A ticket for a flight to Cincinnati," Broots answered nervously.

Parker's eyes narrowed. "I can see that," she said very softly. "What I mean is why the hell did she use my name and buy the ticket as Rachel Parker! Did she buy this ticket on Lyle's credit card too?"

Broots pointed and clicked on something else, and then winced. "Um, not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Parker asked in the same low voice.

"I mean she bought it on credit card, but it wasn't Lyle's," Broots answered apprehensively. Parker looked at him blankly, then suddenly understood and yanked out her wallet. She began flipping through the cards.

"It's your American Express," Broots said helpfully, and winced again at the look she gave him. He didn't have to ask when she threw her wallet down on his desk in fury with an expression that boded no good for Rachel if Parker found her.

"What time did it leave?" she asked finally after a minute.

"It's going to leave in forty-five minutes," Broots said. It was like a bolt of energy suddenly hit Parker.

"Then we won't be too late!" she exclaimed, half running to the stairs.
At the door, Parker stopped and turned to look at him. "What are you waiting for, an invitation? Come on!"

Broots grabbed his laptop and stumbled after her.

---

Because she was blind, they let her board early. Her heart was pounding as the attendant led her to her seat. This was the worst time. If they found her now, she would be trapped. There was nowhere else to run. She was handed off from one person to the next, each one someone who would remember her later. But the special treatment couldn't be helped now. Special treatment! She'd almost forgotten. She pulled out Parker's cell phone and dialed in a number she'd memorized earlier.

---

Miss Parker charged through the airport and shoved her way into the front of the line at the gate where Rachel's flight was leaving from, ignoring the protests behind her.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but you'll have to wait," the attendant in front of her began, but Parker cut him off.

"I'm sorry," she said with a wolfish smile, "But my, ah, sister, Rachel Parker, is on this flight. I really need to talk to her, can I just slip on and off?"

"Can I see some ID?" the attendant asked. Miss Parker pulled out her driver's license. The desk attendant gave it a perfunctory glance, then returned his attention to his computer. "No, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't let you do that," the attendant said, not sounding like he really cared at all. "You can send a message with a flight attendant, though."

"Gee, where have I heard this before," Parker muttered to herself. "Look, I need to-"

The desk phone rang. "One moment," the attendant said, and before she could protest picked up the phone and turned away. Miss Parker was getting ready to grab the phone out of the attendant's hand, but just then Broots came panting up behind her.

"Where have you been?" she snapped.

"Security made me turn on my laptop before they'd let me through," he gasped, leaning against the desk and facing the rest of the line. "Um, Miss Parker? Why is everyone glaring at us?"

But Miss Parker didn't hear. She was waiting for the flight attendant who was giving her a very strange look as he typed in something on his keypad.

"Right, I got it. You're off the passenger roster. You realize that it's too late for a refund? Good. It's funny you should call just now, your, um, sister's standing right across from me-"

Parker lunged across the counter and snatched the phone from the attendant's hand.

"Rachel?!" she almost screamed. A gasp and a beep as the line was terminated were her only answers. "Quick!" she ordered the attendant. "Dial in this number; 511-"

"I think not!" the attendant exclaimed, looking at her like she was crazy.

"Miss Parker," Broots muttered, tilting his head toward the two security guards heading their way. Parker threw the phone back at the attendant and stormed across the passageway to the public phones, giving the guards an angry look as she brushed past them. A minute later, she slammed down the phone in disgust.

"Too late, she turned it off," she fumed. Broots waited, keeping an eye on the security guards who were keeping an eye on them. "A double red herring. She bought three tickets . . ." Parker said, shaking her head. "All right, Broots. Check the list of tickets bought today again. She's on some flight in this airport and we're going to find it."

---

Gasping for breath from the sudden shock, she leaned her head against the window and let the turned-off cell phone fall into her lap. Well, Miss Parker had found her second safety measure, but it didn't really matter now. By the time Miss Parker figured out where she was, she'd be miles away. Absently she traced a pattern on the cover of the cell phone, the only physical link now to the woman. Suddenly an idea struck her and she struggled for a moment with the window latch before she managed to open it a few inches and push the cell phone through. She heard it land in the slush with a satisfying plop.

"You aren't going to leave the window open for the whole trip, are you?" her seatmate asked.

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "I, ah, just wanted some fresh air for a moment." She pulled the window shut.


"Yeah, I know what you mean," the seat shifted as the man next to her settled back. "I've always thought the air inside these buses is worse than the air in the airplanes."

She politely murmured back a response, then quietly tried to pull herself as far away from the man as she could. Would she always feel this nervousness around strangers?

She had divided her bus trip into seven separate rides. At every stop she had to get off and buy a new ticket in person, paying with some of the precious cash it had taken her weeks tto accumulate. She could hav bought just one ticket straight to her destination, Baltimore, but not without creating a paper trail. So she forced herself to stay alert, despite the fatigue pressing down on her.

Still, she was staggering by the time she got off the bus. As the bus roared off behind her, she tripped fell against a pole, barely managing to catch herself. Glad for any support, she leaned against it for a moment as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. The city was surprisingly quiet for only 9:00 at night. She had expected noise and bustle, but the part of town she was in was as still as a tomb. The only passer-bys she could hear were a group of young men, by the sound of their voices, coming towards her. She pushed herself off the pole. Only a few more minutes now and she'd be safe.

"Excuse me, can you tell me which way it is to 670 Preston?" she said with a polite smile, and was surprised by laughter. "Did I say something funny?" Raucous noise floated around her until one nasal voice cut through like a knife.

"Yeah, girl, we can tell you. The question is, do we want to?"

"Why wouldn't you want to tell me?" she asked in confusion, taking a step back so to keep the group in front of her (her instincts shivered), but a few straggled around her back anyway.

"Well, what's in it for us?"

"Well, nothing, really," she answered. This situation was not good. "I was just asking it as a favor. If you don't want to, I'll just find it on my own." She turned, randomly chose a direction, and tried to walk away, but the circle now formed around her didn't move.

"No, we'd be happy to help you." The nasal voice sent shivers down her spine. "But we'd appreciate a little compensation for our time."

"You want money?" she asked, trying to keep the panic down.

"I knew you were smart." Nasal Voice was a tenor. Like Him. "Just give us your- oh, well, it seems you're the only woman in Baltimore without a purse." The voice circled around her and she turned to follow it, not wanting it behind her back. "OK, then, what pocket do you have your wallet in?"

"Inside my coat," she reached in as she said the words.

"No, I'll get it," Nasal Voice snapped, and suddenly the hands were grabbing her again and she couldn't push them away they were coming from behind and in front and she couldn't get away and soon she wouldn't be able to move as the hands kept grabbing her and she screamed and screamed and

"I said, shut up!" yelled Nasal Voice inches away from her face and the hands drew back away from her, except for one gripping the front of her coat. He dropped to a rasping, angry hiss. "Can't you see I've got a gun?"

"I can't see anything!" she gasped. "I'm blind!"

Suddenly the street was as silent as it had been a moment earlier, the silence broken only by her uneven breathing as she gasped for air. A footstep crunched in the snow towards her, and a moment later she felt the tiniest gust of air on her face, like something was being waved in front of it. A few mumblings were cut short as Nasal Voice muttered something she didn't understand under his breath, and then grabbed her shoulder.

"Don't scream," he said as he turned her around and gave her a slight push. "Just keep walking straight. 670 is right in front of you."

All her dignity was gone and she stumbled away from the group as quickly as she could. Dimly she was aware of the footsteps and mutters crunching away behind her, but that burst of adrenaline had drained the last of her strength. She didn't realize that she hadn't truly slept for 36 hours, and hadn't eaten for 25. She only knew she had to focus everything she had left on just putting one foot in front of the other until she walked into a brick wall and collapsed against it, just as a door was flung open a few feet away.

"Hey!" a gravelly baritone called above her as his footsteps crunched down the snowy steps. "Are you all right? I heard screaming." Hands were touching her again, but she had nothing left to resist with.

"Can you hear me? Don't panic, you're safe now, I'm here to help you." Those words . . .

"Jarod?" she whispered. The hands on her shoulders froze.

"Do I know you?" It was the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard.

"I took your place at the Centre," she said with a weak smile.

"Rachel?" Jarod said in shock. She mumbled a yes. There was a brief silence, and then an explosion of talk. "I don't believe this! I just left Eryll's Tower last week and now here you are! How did you- No, no questions now, let's get you inside, is the Centre on your trail? Do we need to leave? Because I can- Rachel?"

She was safe.

"Rachel!"

At long last she gave in and let herself float away into the silence.



TBC