Disclaimer: The Pretender, its characters and base information are the property of MTM Entertainment in association with NBC Studios. I don't holdany designs on ownership. -however-
The below story is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted without due credit or written permission. If anyone feels the urge to write a story that follows this piece they are certainly welcome to it.




Paralyzed
Part I
by Arkady Bogdanov





"Is this really necessary?" Jarod asked, straining futilely at his bindings.

"I think you already know that one," Lyle answered evenly, settling into an antagonistically comfortable chair. He watched his captive struggle discreetly against steel bonds for a moment, before lying back to take a brief rest. Jarod had repeated the cycle of work and pause for fully three hours under Lyle's watchful eye. His efforts could do no real good. Raines had set down strict orders as to the pretender's confinement. His arms, legs, waist, and neck were held nearly immobile by metal bands anchored to a chilly surgical table. Add to that a state-of-the-art video surveillance system and round the clock sweepers at the room's only exit; Jarod could not even relieve himself without the Centre knowing of it first. It could certainly be considered a justifiable form of paranoia.

"You can't keep me like this forever," the captive murmured.

"Try us."

"I'd rather not."

"Come now, Jarod," Lyle chuckled softly and rolled his chair back just out of the pretender's limited range of sight. "You do realize that your little foray into the world was your only trip outside? We won't allow it to happen again."

"It wasn't your intention to let me outside the first time, either," Jarod reminded him pointedly. "And yet after three years you've failed countless times to recapture me, even after I willingly made brief visits to the Centre. Let's just say I'm not afraid."

"Maybe you should start now," Lyle sneered through his response.

"One day you'll get lazy, and I'll be halfway across the midwest before anyone realizes something's amiss." The Pretender decided to maintain his state of relaxation awhile. Perhaps, Lyle thought, he had come to accept the futility of his actions. He tried a more threatening tack.

"Or perhaps we never let you up from this table again. Had you ever thought of that?"

"I can't do your sims from a tabletop, Lyle. You'll have to let me up one day," Jarod laughed in a convincing attempt at superiority. "Not that I'd ever willingly help the Centre again." In a moment his adversary's dark eyes appeared overhead, glinting ominously.

"You assume you have some choice in the matter. I assure you, that's not the case."

Jarod felt the pinprick of a needle in his upper arm, sharp and quick. It was with supreme effort that he kept his eyes from rolling back into oblivion at once. Lyle's triumphant face seemed to float away on a white cloud, escorted by winged sweepers. He imagined that voices could be heard in the distance, carrying the faint impression of gravel-tinged severity. By then his own cloud appeared, and Jarod could feel himself drifting further away down into darkness.

"He's out for a few hours, at least," Mr. Lyle couldn't help but feel powerful over the Pretender's recumbent form. Raines had entered as Jarod's eyes gave their final fluttering of movement. "That was some powerful juice."

"Yes," was the half-whispered reply. "I expect he'll be on it... for some time."

"So what next?" Lyle rubbed his hands together sportingly. "Do we trade his cooperation for brief periods of lucidity?"

"No." Raines bit out the word before inhaling deeply. "The Centre has no use for... addicts in perpetual... languor." He wheezed heavily, almost winded. "I have ... my plans."

The words hung for several moments in the air before Lyle decided to try a new topic.

"Syd's been clamoring to see Jarod. Shall I continue to bar him from entrance?"

"Yes, indefinitely," Raines gasped. "And Ms. Parker, should she awaken. They... cannot be... trusted."

"Agreed," Lyle said. "My sister has become a bit of an inconvenience lately." Not that it could be helped. As long as their father stood in the way.

"I intend... to hold her in renewal wing," the older man paused, "as long as possible."

"Won't dear old dad' have something to say about that?" An edge of contempt could almost be detected in Lyle's tone. It was a pity they had to carry on as if the Centre had not only days ago ordered his death.

"Brigitte will... attend to that."

"Who attends to Jarod?"

"I do." Raines crept out of the room as he entered it, accompanied by the aching squeal of his oxygen cart. Lyle watched the retreating, hunched form. Getting Jarod to cooperate would be next to impossible. The man wasn't stupid. He was smart enough to know that any threats made against his life were worthless, baseless actions. The Centre couldn't afford to lose such a valuable commodity. The Pretender was anything but expendable with the loss of the clone. Restitution had to be paid for all the trouble and expense Jarod had caused. Still, playing his sense of selflessness and humanity against him, Lyle thought, would ultimately be key. Parker would pitch a fit if she ever learned.

****************

"Good morning, Jarod," the gravelly voice floated up to him out of a dense mist. A slight shiver ran up and down the pretender's body as a needle withdrew from his left bicep. A headache raged inwardly, undoubtedly the result of whatever drugs they had kept him on. Outwardly, he tried to be as cool as one might coming out of a drug-induced stupor.

"Mr. Raines."

"Welcome... home," labored breathing, as always.

"I prefer to think of it as the Bates Motel, without the great view." Straining through cotton-rimmed eyes, Jarod took stock in the situation. Raines stood several paces away, ever the lumbering statue. It seemed they were alone, but he could see nothing behind him. Bound by metal bands to a chair at the waist, wrists, ankles, and neck, movement was restricted correspondingly. The Pretender attempted to begin his cycle of struggle and rest again, but stopped short. Mr. Raines' face twisted into a sickening caricature of a smile.

"Partial paralysis is a... side effect... of the drug... I administered," he sneered a moment. "Fortunate for us."

Jarod could not feel a thing below the waist. And the rest of him was beginning to feel just as numb.

"I won't cooperate," the Pretender attempted to mask the fear in his eyes and voice with brave words. Having said them it seemed there could be nothing more transparent.

A television screen to Raines' left flicked on abruptly. A sleeping form was laid out on a hospital bed. Heavy gauze bandages and a life support machine were evident, but the woman seemed to be stable.

"Ms. Parker is alright, then." Jarod couldn't quash a sigh of relief.

"You might try to avoid shooting your own side." Raines ignored him.

"For the time being... she is safe," the words spoken made the Pretender's blood run cold.

"What do you mean?" he stared hard at the devil on respiration.

"Her health could... fail, barring some special circumstances."

"Mr. Parker would never allow his own daughter --" Raines cut him off.

"You assume... he was... consulted. A coma is a... serious condition. Any number of things... could go wrong. Easily explainable."

"What do you want then," Jarod ceased struggling, already knowing what was to follow.

"Your cooperation and... parole..."
"... in exchange for Ms. Parker's health," the Pretender finished for Raines. "I need to think..." his thoughts moved toward stalling.

Raines pulled a small syringe from his pocket and examined it thoroughly before glancing at the monitor. A man in white doctor's garb appeared beside Ms. Parker, a similar needle in hand. He had begun searching for a vein.

"This paralytic could... kill in large doses... within moments," his voice scraping out. "Your decision now, Jarod."

"Yes," he bit out, trapped. There was no other choice. At least not for now. When Ms. Parker had healed... then. Raines smiled sickeningly. The doctor beside Parker had disappeared as if by the wave of some invisible hand. The Centre had won this round.

"If you try anything... she dies. Instantly," he growled, uncapping the needle and moving to the IV that hung by Jarod. "Welcome back."

The Pretender plunged back into darkness.

****************

Jarod's mind swum upward once more into a fuzzy consciousness. Without revealing his present state of awareness he took stock in the surroundings. The room was quiet, a steady hum betraying only the air circulation system. Jarod could feel no eyes on him. For the first time since his recapture he was unbound, lying on what felt like a cushioned sofa. Oddly, someone had thought to pull a blanket over him after dropping the man's sleeping form there. A quick test proved that feeling had not yet returned to his legs; undoubtedly why they had granted Jarod the liberty of being free to move. He couldn't make it more than a few feet without someone there to stop his crawling. Not that it mattered. A step outside the Centre would undoubtedly mean Ms. Parker's death.

The Pretender cracked open an eye to see where he had already guessed they had left him: his old Centre apartment, exactly as he had left it three years ago. Jarod groaned inwardly. It had become in thirty years more of a prison than any cement walls and metal bars ever could. Somehow, concrete would have been easier. Since he knew the truth regarding the sims' uses, it seemed this paltry attempt at resettling him was without purpose. Undoubtedly Raines' warped sense of humor at work again. The Centre had never been big on creature comforts; the room was correspondingly filled with work-inspired books and other bits and pieces. And knowing that with Ms. Parker in danger the room which he had once escaped from was now, unchanged as it was, a far more painful prison.

The door to Jarod's cell opened. The Pretender did his best to hoist himself up into a sitting position. He couldn't afford to look vulnerable.

"Jarod," Raines growled, entering the room. A sweeper stood just in sight at the door. No chances.

"We have...work to do. To make up for your...vacation. Tomorrow... you should be ready, to begin again." So the mystery drug's affects should have worn off by tomorrow.

"It will be nice walk around again," the pretender attempted good cheer. "I'd like to stretch my legs."

"A shame... then," Raines wheezed. "That you'll need this." he indicated a wheelchair the sweeper pushed into the room before withdrawing.

"How can you expect me to work without my legs beneath me?" Jarod asked, hiding his rapidly exposing nerve.

"You're the Pretender," the doctor glared. "Adapt."

"Forgive my waning enthusiasm."

"Mobility is earned," Raines bit out. "And you saw fit... to break our trust."

Jarod laughed; "You have no concept of trust. The Centre invents its own.

"We will... ensure your cooperation," Raines seethed through his oxygen. "By any means."And if you ... necesitate, we will raise the ... paralytic dosage. You can divide your time equally between unconsciousness and sims. The choice is yours."

The Pretender thought hard as Raines chose his moment to hobble out of the apartment. He knew Raines' threat of drugs was empty; Pretender or no, no one was any good to them half in or out of consciousness. It was unfortunate that Raines was being overly cautious regarding his legs, above and beyond the blackmail. Ms. Parker... the Centre was certainly desperate. And her father could be attended to... any number of ways to compell her to die of natural causes.' It was an oddly laid farse that such a gesture would even be attempted; less than a week ago Raines had been bent on killing Mr. Parker. That the Centre would go to such pains to play nice to a one-time victim, as the only daughter stood poised on the edge in his place - it would only be more strange if the elder Parker bought into it. Probably he was to occupied with his daughter to think clearly. No matter which way the deck was stacked, Jarod was still trapped.

****************

"When can I see him?" Sydney had been skulking about outside Jarod's apartment for hours, waiting for the right opportunity. It was almost pitiable. More urgently he asked, "is he alright?"

"Never," Raines paused to glare a moment before continuing down the hallway, Syd close at his heels.

"What do you mean, never?"

"I mean... never," the skeletal man wheezed.

"You can't do that," Sydney insisted.

"As of tomorrow..." Raines said triumphantly, "Jarod will be placed... permanently under my... care."

"I will not allow it."

"You... haven't the power to prevent it. The triumvirate has... spoken."

"Jarod is my life's work," Sydney could hardly contain his growing anger.

"You can't take him away so easily."

"I can," gloating filled Raines' face. "You're welcome... to Gemini." Rage welled up in Syd as the walking corpse stalked his way down the hall. Something had to be done, and soon, before Jarod was hurt.

****************

"Parker, you've got to wake up," said Sydney, futilely. "We need your help." Night had passed in to day with no perceptible change. It had been several days since the last operation, and the coma remained unchanged. Heavy weapons fire had nearly torn her body to pieces. If they hadn't gotten her back to renewal wing so quickly, into surgery and emptied of more than a couple metal shards... Lyle might have been an only child by now, he thought cryptically. As it was, Sydney was uncomfortable with standing over the body as Ms. Parker hovered once more perilously between life and death. He had watched her father some hours before leave for a bit of much-deserved rest poor man probably hadn't slept more than a few hours in these last few days. The Parkers' near-death experience was a terrible one. And no father should outlive his child.

"Syd?" Broots' nervous voice startled the doctor out of his thoughts. He turned and found the energy to offer a reassuring, if forced smile. The younger man stood at the doorway, almost afraid to come in. Parker's injury seemed to have a deeper affect on him.

"Yes, Broots?"

"Is she going to be okay?" He had a way of acting like a small boy staring down at an injured bird. A strange blend of innocence and fear.

"I certainly hope so," Sydney murmured. "The bleeding hasn't started again. And Parker has beaten back coma before."

"She's too stubborn to die..." Broots trailed off, and allowed himself to be led from the room. No use standing by her bedside... time seemed to move more slowly in there.

Out in the hallway beyond Renewal wing Centre life carried on as usual. A few people scattered here and there, going about their tasks. There was one blessing: Brigitte and Lyle had been blissfully absent in the past several days. Off playing the dutiful wife and son, no doubt. As long as they weren't scuttling about like rats underfoot things would stay relatively calm. And with Raines arranging playtime with his new toy... Broots and Sydney could hold conversations without real fear of eavesdropping. They made their way to a convenient corner.

"What have you learned about Jarod?"

"Not so much," the tech replied. "Raines has been keeping a tight hold on him. Anyone that sees him might as well be Doctor Death's right hand. They've been keeping Jarod locked up tight in his apartment since yesterday. And I've seen some mention of a special drug... not much to work with."

"It doesn't make sense for them to have moved him back home without knowing how he escaped the first time," Sydney mused. "Unless they've done something already to guarantee..." The doctor stopped as Broots' eyes grew wide with surprise, and turned to see the object of his attention. Jarod, led by Raines and flanked by two armed sweepers was making his way up the hall in a wheelchair. Physically he looked fine. No sign of beating or recent abuses marred his body, save for the knee injury sustained just before capture. And yet, that by now shouldn't have required the use of a chair to get around.

"Jarod!" Sydney called from across the way, and moved to approach. With a look of surprise the Pretender looked up, as if to turn his chair in the new direction. Raines spun back and shot a hard glance his way, whispering something just out of hearing. Jarod's brief moment of happiness melted into a mask of misery as he continued on at the heels of the small oxygen cart. One of the sweepers, Willie, stopped as if to ensure their safe exit. His hard, stony face was enough to stop Syd in his tracks. He wasn't wanted.

"What was that all about?" Broots asked, now standing beside him.

"I don't know," he responded. "Somehow, some way, they've gotten to Jarod."

"And you want me to find out how?"

"Yes. Ten minutes ago, if you don't mind."

The younger man disappeared, muttering something about Angelo as he went.

Probably a good idea to involve him. They would need all the help they could get.

Disclaimer: The Pretender, its characters and base information are the property of MTM Entertainment in association with NBC Studios. I don't holdany designs on ownership. -however-
The below story is the sole property of the author and may not be reprinted without due credit or written permission. If anyone feels the urge to write a story that follows this piece they are certainly welcome to it.



Paralyzed
Part II
by Arkady Bogdanov





Jarod wheeled around the simlab, reacquainting himself with the all-to-familiar surroundings. Being chained to the wheelchair made the place seem all the more more cramped and confining. He suspected that part of this was Raines' revenge for his own time in a wheelchair. Not that it had been Jarod's own fault. Sydney had fired that gun. Still, vengeful behavior and Raines seemed to have little concern for reason reality.

"Why isn't Sydney here?" the Pretender asked. It couldn't hurt to confirm his suspicions.

"You're not his... concern any longer."

"He's the only one here qualified to handle me," Jarod bit out.

"Watch your... mouth, or you will... regret it," Raines whispered harshly.

"I was forced to come back to prevent a death. I don't have to like it."

The ex-doctor nodded into the shadows, and a corner television screen flicked on, revealing Ms. Parker. Beside her sat a man in a dark suit, reading a newspaper. Displayed in a prominent corner was a tray holding a single vial and syringe.

"Every moment..." he wheezed, "of every hour, of every day this... screen stays on. A powerful motivation for... good work. If you fail... this man will not."

Jarod stared at the problem Raines had presented him. It was a simple hostage situation ‘ or so they told him ‘ minimum number of variables, minimum security target not outfitted against serious attack. He'd had the scenario worked out in his head for nearly 30 minutes. The question was how long he could delay before Raines figured him out. Not much longer by now. The doctor,' seemed to be reaching his breaking point. There were only so many non-questions the Pretender could ask before even an abject fool would catch on. And despite Raines' shortcomings, he wasn't that. Parker's life wasn't worth this. Jarod sighed. He at least had a fairly decent idea of how to gauge his captor.

"A four man team, attacking at dawn," he began. "Before the changing of the guard, about 30 minutes. The replacements should still be asleep, and the men on post will be at their least alert. Two of our guys at each door. One team sweeps the sleeping quarters on the west side, and the other takes out the command center. Shouldn't be more than a night communications man on duty. Easy kill." The last words said, Jarod wished he could take them back. They sounded hollow, cruel.

"Continue," Raines gravelly voice was like acid in an open wound.

"From there move on to the captive. In a ten man installation, two guards is the most you can expect. Probably not more than one. With silencers and light footsteps they might not hear you coming.

"Casualties?"

"Possible," Jarod gave a sidelong glance at Willie, standing silently in a corner. "As long as you're not sending the Centre's sweepers things should go well."

Raines ignored his comment.

"Transportation?"

"Hike in from about thirty miles. Exit by air, helicopter if it's convenient."

"Surveillance?"

"Everything you've given me seems to indicate they have a decent system. Use the cover provided by dawn hours, and wear green. None of the commando black or G-Man suits."

"If this mission fails..."

"Parker dies. It won't by my hand."

"For her sake... it had better not," Raines had fallen into a passively threatening voice, and turned to Willie. "Take him back."

"When this works, I'd like my legs back," Jarod said, spinning the wheelchair expertly to go.

"You'll walk... the day Mr. Parker regains his previous authority," old man wheezed away, trailing his oxygen cart behind him. Willie indicated the door, vaguely fingering his handgun."

"Even in a wheelchair I could take you..." Jarod murmured, and wheeled away.

****************

Inwardly the Pretender moaned as he re-entered his apartment. Apparently Raines had called in the carpenter while the sim ran. The entire room was now wheelchair accessible, from the bed to a set of stairs outfitted with ramp.

So Dr. Mengala really was planning to keep him half-paralyzed. A dangerous proposition. In a matter of time tissue damage would begin. His legs would deteriorate rapidly, to the point when even if Raines took him off the drugs it would take an age of physical therapy to correct the damage. A similar problem lay in the mental aspect.

As the months wore on the effect on his spirits would worsen. Certainly an added bonus to Raines, who could only benefit from a Pretender without the will to fight. Knowing this fact would make no ultimate difference.

Jarod gazed up to the television screen, tuned to Parker's Renewal Wing room. She couldn't stay unconscious permanently. When the coma lifted the Centre lost itself a valuable method of blackmail. And he could take full advantage of the situation.

A feeling of boredom pervaded the room as it never had in the early years. Before his first escape living in the apartment was an easy existence.

All his meals brought to him, plenty of books to read and activities to occupy the mind. In light of present circumstances all of those things seemed empty, useless pursuits. The normal human interaction which Jarod had come to thrive on was gone. To someone who lived most of his life in seclusion people were like a drug. Some special indulgence he had come to take for granted until it was gone. Being limited to Raines, his henchmen, and Lyle paled in comparison. Even on the lamb the Pretender held frequent conversations with Sydney. Mengala obviously had issues with the good doctor. That last umbilical was severed. There was no one...

A faint tapping came from the far corner, as if on cue. Twice, three times, and twice again. Jarod looked casually to one side. He could only imagine the number of video cameras hardwired to his room. Just barely out of sight beyond a vent covering Angelo crouched, his eyes large and round. The Pretender scratched his head in acknowledgment, and began to circle the room as if in search of something.

On the second circuit he paused in front of the sofa a moment, before gathering all the cushions possible in his lap. The observation techs would be scratching their heads at this point, confused. Someone might call Raines in a moment. Any suspicious behavior would demand immediate action.

Jarod wheeled himself into the corner and dumped all the cushions on the floor. As luck would have it he was as far as was possible from the Parker television. Perfect for the scene the Pretender wanted to create. With all the frustration and anxiety that could be mustered he thrust himself out of the chair and shoved it away. Curling into the fetal position was difficult when one was half-paralyzed; that only added to the affect. Jarod let loose a carefully timed whimper and rocked his torso back and forth. The techs had likely called Raines, and without a doubt the corpse would be gloating over his ‘broken' Pretender's image in moments. But Jarod had his privacy for the time. Raines would want him to feel lonely and helpless.

"Talk quietly," he murmured, and watched Angelo nod.

"Jarod... okay?"

"No," the Pretender moaned briefly. Best not to ham it up too much. Raines was no fool; he might catch on eventually.

"Legs not working?"

"Bad medicine from Raines," Angelo's eyes grew large in their sockets. They couldn't talk much longer with out the risk of a mike picking something up. Jarod whimpered again for effect before continuing, wondering if the other understood his act completely.

"Find Sydney, okay?" the empath nodded. "Tell him, Jarod's okay. Bad legs, needs his help." Angelo moved to go.

"Wait," he whispered loudly, flinching at what seemed almost like a yell as the man-child stopped. "Raines won't let me talk. Parker in danger. Blackmail." The last word held an ominous ring. Angelo turned, frightened, and crawled off down the vent. Sydney would know by morning, certainly.

Jarod closed his eyes and lay completely still. Two forlorn tears had appeared on his cheek, maximizing the effect. A tear-stained face in the morning was icing on the cake. He decided to sleep there in the corner for the night. No display of false bravado was necessary. His little drama was sufficient. Someone, Willie, or one of Raines' other goons, would certainly be in to help him in the morning.

****************

"Sydney?" Broots poked his head into Parker's room in the Renewal wing. He had come there on a hunch that the doctor would be checking up on her. He did that a lot now. Certainly there was nothing else for Syd, with the clone long gone and Jarod inaccessible, but Broots liked to think it was more out of the older man's paternal side. And a need to stand over someone, be a guardian. Sydney had lost the others, but he could adopt Parker to protect. In many ways he always had.

"Yes, Broots?" the doctor looked up and blinked. Until then he had been engaged in a staring contest with the steely-eyed sweeper that had taken up residence in Parker's room, unasked-for and unexplained. He was grim and silent, one of Raines' trained monkeys unfamiliar to Sydney. Something in his eye suggested determination, but in what was the question.

"I have some of the figures you asked me to check up on," the younger man mumbled, surprised at the sweeper's presence.

"No need to bother Parker with local real estate then," or let the sweeper in on their business. "The hallway will do." Broots nodded nervously and turned tail to leave, followed closely by the doctor. Having discussions out in Centre passages could be the safest place to meet as long as they watched their backs and stood out of earshot of surveillance cameras. The two men found a random corner and assumed appropriate positions as if by clockwork. They were getting too good at it.

"If Raines wrote down what he did to Jarod to keep him in line it's not in the system." Broots flipped open a file folder and began pointing at random words and graphics as he spoke. In the past most of what the younger man found could be explained away as clues on the trail of Jarod. With the search ended their excuse was lost, and Broots had conveniently chosen some Internet classifieds as his ‘information,' as he spoke in low tones. "But I did find something interesting." Sydney played along, pantomiming interest in Delaware's sparse condominium pickings.

"What's that?"

"Some kind of drug showing up on Jarod's blood work. Probably an experimental side project of Raines' that came in handy. Lots of the kind of chemicals you might find in muscle relaxants and paralytics, but nothing I've ever heard of before. Though I'm no doctor. Not even a--,"

"Broots!" Sydney stopped him before he rambled on his way into the next week. "That explains the wheelchair, then. Hard to escape without the use of one's legs."

"But Jarod cooperating? There wasn't anything in his blood to suggest they had him doped into willingly going along with Raines," he poked at a picture of a large Dover condominium, maintaining the charade.

"There must be something else driving Jarod then," Sydney concluded. "Bigger than his own life. Raines knows that beating and threatening Jarod will get him nowhere. Not when he knows his own value to the Centre. But what else could there be?" Both fell silent, neither having any immediate ideas.

A slight wail emanated from down the hallway. Angelo had appeared in a doorway, shifty and nervous in the open. He was standing beside them in a moment, tugging persistently at one of Sydney's sleeves.

"Talk." he said simply, and cast a wary glance up the hallway. Following his eyes Syd could see Mr. Lyle approaching, curious about the noise.

"Easy now," the doctor murmured soothingly. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Jarod talk," Angelo whispered so loudly that Broots winced, afraid Lyle might have heard.

"We'll straighten this out in my office then," Sydney said in normal tone, and marched him and Broots right past Lyle's raised eyebrow. Safe inside his office he found a chair for the empath to sit in and calm down a minute. Hopefully here they would not be bothered.

"You talked with Jarod?" Angelo nodded.

"What did he say?"

"Jarod o-kay. Bad legs," he managed. "Jarod o-kay."

Sydney sighed. At least it confirmed what they already knew."

"Anything else?" he asked. "Anything that can help us at all? Please, Angelo." There was more desperation and insistence in the doctor's voice than he realized. The empath looked like he was almost at his breaking point.

"Parker in danger. Blackmail!" Angelo said triumphantly. "Blackmail, won't let Jarod talk. Help. Help!" he almost collapsed in on himself. They had all they could need out of the poor man-child. Broots gaped.

"Ms. Parker would throw a fit if she knew..." the look on Sydney's face silenced him.

"We won't tell her, then," he shot back. "And damn Raines for pulling this while she's halfway gone. Her father can't know the games he's playing."

"What can we do?" Broots was helpless when it came to brainstorming this kind of idea.

"You start pulling information on paralytics. I'll need night reading."

"Where will you be?"

"Standing by Parker. One of us needs to be with her every minute from now on. If Raines tries something one of us needs to be there to stop him." Sydney reached into his desk and pulled out a familiar object. Parker's handgun had rested there in its holster since Jarod's capture, waiting for her return. It might come in handy now. He tucked it a jacket pocket for the moment.

Broots' eyes widened and he disappeared wordlessly. Sydney turned back to Angelo, who had been sitting quietly for the past couple minutes awaiting instructions.

"Watch Jarod," the doctor murmured. "Find me if anything bad happens." The empath vanished out the door, probably headed for the nearest air vent or exhaust tube. However he managed to speak to Jarod in the first place. Perhaps in time he could take the Pretender out with him. Sydney headed for the door himself, and Ms. Parker. The sweeper had a purpose there and he knew it now. And might need to stop it.

****************

"Mr. Raines," Lyle appeared out of nowhere by the walking corpse's side. It was early morning now, and he had been headed to Jarod's apartment. They had yesterday's sim to discuss.

"What," he hissed.

"I thought you should know..." Lyle trailed off a moment under an icy glare. Raines was in no mood for conversation. "Sydney and Broots may be snooping around where they don't belong. When I walked passed them with Angelo, Syd ushered both to his office. Ever since he's been holding a vigil at Parker's side. They might know something by now--"

"Possible," Raines cut him off. "If anything... more happens... report back to ... me alone."

"Agreed," Lyle said, but the other had already crept out of earshot. He moved quickly for someone who dragged a cart wherever he went. Perhaps because now even his crooked frame towered over a wheelchair-bound Pretender.

****************

The door to Jarod's quarters was flanked by two sweepers, as ordered. One would need to stay by the door while the other, Willie entered with him to hoist Jarod out of his nest. Last night's episode was a pleasant surprise to Raines. He had not expected the Pretender to break down so quickly. It would make his work far easier.

Jarod still lay curled up in the corner, his face tear-stained and angst-ridden. He looked to be having a bad dream; his arms and body flailed about to the waist, where all movement was prevented by paralysis. A truly humorous picture, really; certainly a pity they had work to do. It would have been better to let him stew in his misery for a day or two.

With a nod Willie crossed the room and shook Jarod briskly awake. A dark, temporarily confused look crossed his eyes as the sweeper hoisted him bodily into the waiting wheelchair. Raines entertained a brief notion that the Pretender might have been faking the whole scene, before dismissing it to speak.

"Not feeling... well?"

"Imagine waking up from a terrible nightmare to the sight of a walking corpse. That's how I feel." Jarod gave his adversary a long, hard stare. He had been having a nightmare. It was a flashback to the day of his capture. Willie had missed Mr. Parker and hit is daughter instead. He was holding Parker in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding. It was rushing, pouring out all over her clothing, his hands, the pavement... everywhere he looked there was blood. She'd be dead in a minute. Jarod had to do something, anything to save her rapidly fading heartbeat. Then Raines appeared, much like he had just now, dragging Jarod away and leaving Parker to die. The terrible feeling of absolute helplessness had only been interrupted by the sound of Willie's hand on the door. A split second decision made him pantomime a continued nightmare. Better to lead Raines to believe he was in a far more weak state than was true. It would buy him time in the future.

"Clean up... you have fifteen... minutes," the triumphant look on his face made Raines look like a pale caricature of a jack ‘o lantern retreating into night. Clearly his act was having the desired effect.

Willie attempted to push Jarod toward the bathroom, but the Pretender shook him off with a brisk tug of the wheel. He could still handle using the toilet by himself. The sweeper shrugged wordlessly and waited by the door. Jarod changed quickly, dropping his soiled clothes in a convenient corner. Since the Centre enjoyed it so much they could clean up after him. He was anxious to know how the sim went. Raines would undoubtedly find a way to twist the outcome into tightening his hold on Jarod. He had a feeling he already knew how.

****************

Jarod's ride to the simlab was quiet and uneventful. He had hoped for some glimpse of Sydney as with the day before, but given the early hour it seemed to be, the doctor was undoubtedly not yet in. Inwardly Jarod cursed Raines for taking his watch and other personal effects. He had taken for granted the comfort and that material goods could provide. That would never happen again.

The door to the lab had always seemed to Jarod something like a portal between worlds. Outside there was life, if Centre-style, people moving from place to place with a purpose in their step and a destination in mind. Inside there was only the Pretender, a sim, and taskmaster with veiled threat in hand. And all sense of continuous time was erased, replaced only with a concept of desperate, life-rending urgency. Inside it felt hollow, always unreal.

At the door Willie took charge of Jarod's wheelchair. There was no shaking him this time. In the center of the lab there was one seat, perhaps the same thing they had held him restrained in not so very long ago. The sweeper lifted him bodily out of his chair and into the very stationary chair, all the while conscious of how easy it would be to reach around Willie's back and pull the handgun that he had left carelessly unguarded. So easy and yet so entirely impossible.

The sweeper took his wheelchair and vanished through the door, leaving him to wait for Mr. Raines' arrival. They left Jarod there alone, vulnerable, in order to disconcert him. The secret lay in knowing their tricks well enough to counteract the effects, while simultaneously putting on the act of being disturbed by it all. He waged a temporary staring contest with one of the surveillance cameras before looking away in mock disgust. One of the few benefits Jarod had with the simlab was his complete familiarity with the surroundings. He had grown up here, in the sort of land that time forgot. The walking corpse would have serious trouble making any intimidation tactics truly sink in.

It was perhaps no more than five minutes before Raines wheezed in, complete with oxygen cart and neat manila folder tucked under one arm. The moment of truth. Doctor Death nearly took Jarod's head off with the file, giving him a few brief seconds to read.

"One fatality." Raines growl would have oozed gravel if it were possible.

Jarod looked up from his reading, uncaring. "I told you not to send sweepers to do a man's job," he tossed the folder
on the floor, not caring to read about the victims.

"This is not... an acceptable... outcome," the skeleton glared down at him.

"I upheld my end of the bargain. There was an incompetence clause, if you recall," Jarod stared right back.

"Next time... nothing less than... complete success," Mr. Raines stated.
"Complete neutralization..." the Pretender cringed.

"... and no... fatalities."

"I can't guarantee you something that isn't in my power!" Jarod insisted, allowing his voice to rise."

"For Parker's sake... you will." The corpse continued on into a new sim, but he only half-listened. It seemed that saving one friend might mean killing scores of others.

End of part 2.