SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: January 8th

For someone living the life of a nomad, the goodbyes were the hardest. He would settle in, forge connections, do his work, and then it was time to move on, start over.

As much as Jarod was enjoying his freedom and the wonderful people he had met on his pretends, walking away from these new treasured relationships was immensely difficult. It was a different kind of prison, always on the move, never allowed any permanence.

After seven years on the run, the constant turbulence in Jarod's life was beginning to take its toll. The first few years were much simpler, his city and personality hopping was well cushioned by the new discovery's life outside had to offer. Through ice cream, pez, McDonalds, and even much simpler pleasures as the ocean, sunshine, even the feeling of raindrops on his forehead, Jarod was able to deflect much of the sorrow he felt.

But now, seven years later, Jarod was beginning to feel a deep yearning from within. The world not longer was full of endless discoveries. His brief encounters with his family, Zoe and even that sacred night in Scotland with Parker had slowly opened the floodgates of Jarod's tortured soul. Now, more than ever, even in those isolate years behind the Center's walls, Jarod wanted a home. He wanted friends he could grow old with. He wanted a family. He wanted to feel loved, to love, and be able to do so without being chased around the planet.

Jarod sighed, turning away from the glare of his laptop briefly. He knew the path his life had been forced upon would never allow such a luxury. He also knew that this yearning was slowly eating at him from within. Today he was running through the paces of his nightly search on the web trying to grasp some clue of where any member of his broken family may be. And as usual, there was nothing.

The email chime of his laptop snapped Jarod from his thoughts, and he absently mindedly opened his new message. Scanning the top, Jarod felt that familiar knot of dread brewing within, as he noted the sender was Angelo.

Corporation Zero Beware.

That was all the email stated. Jarod furrowed his brow in confusion as he googled Corporation Zero, returning no results. Subsequent searches through the archives of the Pentagon, CIA, and FBI yielded no results.

Unsure of what Angelo seemingly wanted to warn him about, Jarod grabbed his cell phone and pressed one of two numbers always pre-programmed into his speed dial. Sydney's warm Belgian accent promptly answered the phone.

"Sydney!" Jarod greeted with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, but his tone came out flat.

"Jarod!" his mentor greeted warmly. Jarod felt a pang of guilt, it had been nearly two months since had called in last. Jarod had been finding it increasingly difficult to engage in any meaningful contact with his mentor. His phone conversations with Sydney always left him feeling empty. They were a stark reminder of how desperate he was to be his father.

"Sydney- I .." Jarod started but was abruptly cut off by Sydney.

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, EQUATORIAL AFRICA : January 8th

Parker was irritated. Or at least that was the conclusion that those around her would conclude upon inspecting her crisp posture, immaculate outfit and obviously unimpressed facial expression.

Within, she was terrified. Late yesterday she had been summoned into Raines’ office with Lyle. The Triumvirate had requested the trio's presence urgently. Never in Centre history had such a request been made. Raines had demanded they leave instantly as to adhere to the urgency of the Triumvirate's request. Parker hadn't even been granted time to pack. Fortunately after seven long long years chasing Jarod around the country, she was wise enough to always have a packed suitcase at the ready.

Upon arriving at the Triumvirate headquarters, it appeared that similar summons had been made to all Centre branches and Triumvirate holdings across the globe. Parker turned to her brother, catching Lyle looked around nervously.

The entire room, holding about 70 key officials from Triumvirate companies around the globe, hushed instantly when Triumvirate officials entered the room and took their places at the front of the room. Stress was evident on their faces.

"What the hell is going on?" Parker thought as she took her seat aside Lyle.

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: January 9th

Jarod paced nervously, replaying the phone call with Sydney from the day before in his mind. Miss Parker had mysteriously vanished, along with Raines and Lyle. Centre air logs revealed a flight had taken place direct to Equatorial Africa, leading Sydney to the obvious conclusion that Parker had been summoned to the Triumvirate.

Between Angelo's cryptic email, and Parker's disappearance, Jarod was at a loss. He was terribly concerned about Parker's safety. Triumvirate summons usually were an indication of 'Corporate Retraining. Jarod shuddered at this thought, thinking briefly to his timely escape from the Centre several years before when he was enroute to Africa for a little retraining of his own.

Jarod glared at his laptop, willing for the sweet tone of his email chime. Sydney had promised to send any new developments his way. Jarod's individual search had yielded no further information. All he could do was wait and wonder. His overactive mind kept conjuring up situation after situation; none of which resulted in a happy ending for his childhood friend.

THE CENTER, BLUE COVE, JANUARY 10th

Broots pounded his keyboard in frustration. He felt Sydney's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Broots. I know you will find something."

Broots spun around. "I don't know Sydney! It is like Miss Parker, Raines and Lyle have just vanished. There is no written order from the Triumvirate. No clues. Just nothing!!"

Sydney burrow creased in frustration. "Perhaps Jarod was able to turn up something. I'll – " Sydney's train of thought was interrupted as he got wind of a familiar clicking sound approaching from the hallway.

Broots followed Sydney's gaze, praying that he was not imagining the wonderful sound of Parker's stiletto heels approaching the techroom. The two were not disappointed, as seconds later Parker, flanked by Lyle breezed into the room.

Not wasting a moment of silence Parker glared at Broots "What do you have on Jarod's current location?" She barked.

Broots just stared slack-jawed at Parker. "But, you.. Triumvirate... Africa.. How..." the poor tech mumbled, unable to control the thoughts rapidly spinning in his head.

Lyle stepped in from behind Parker, his usually smug, over-confident posture was evidently ruffled. "That is none of your concern. I want a solid lead on Jarod before anyone leaves this building." With that Parker's twin spun around and hurried out of the room.

Sydney turned to Parker. "You're alright Parker?"

Miss Parker returned his comment with an icy glare. "I will be as soon as I can get to my damn cigarettes."

"What happened Parker? Why were you in Africa? Did they do –" Sydney questioned, but was immediately cut off.

"I said, I'm fine Freud." Parker spun around, following the same path her twin had moments earlier. Pausing slightly at the door she turned the two bewildered men, her facial expression softening. "Trust me, you rather not know." And with that she snapped her fingers harshly. "Jarod, Broots. NOW!"

"Sydney what is going on?" Broots whispered. Never before had he felt such an urgency to locate Jarod emanating from the Parker twins. In fact never before had he ever seen the Parker twins share a common goal. The psychiatrist shook his head, equally as confused. "I'll leave you to your work Broots."

The psychiatrist rushed out of the room, fear for his beloved protégé growing within. He had to warn Jarod.

FERRY DEPOT, SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: January 11th

Jarod sat absent mindedly on the bench, barely aware of the distant sound of fog horns. He was replaying his late night conversation with Sydney the night before.

The psychiatrist had obviously been deeply concerned about Jarod's safety. "I've never seen her like this before Jarod. Something has lit a fire within her, a sense of urgency, and it is fully directed at you."

Jarod had tried to downplay the psychiatrist's fears. "I've evaded them for seven years Sydney, why should this be any different?"

In the end Sydney's uneasiness had won out. Jarod was already slightly apprehensive due to Angelo's mysterious email, and as was often true at the Centre, had a nagging suspicion that Parker's new found motivation for his capture was somehow linked to Corporation Zero. There was no such thing as coincidence when involving the Center. He promised the psychiatrist that he would hover below the Center's radar until he knew fully what he was up against.

Jarod had packed that night, but opted to spend a final night in his apartment. He was just too tired to run out on yet another mini-rendition of a real life just yet. He was planning on slipping north of the border to spend some time on the west coast of Canada. He was awaiting his ferry to Vancouver on this lonely winter morning.

Jarod clutched the brown paper bag that he held on his lap, smiling briefly as he thought of Mrs. Finnegan. Jarod had opted to spend his time in Seattle in a real apartment. He knew it was fruitless, but as his soul was deeply craving a sense of stability, normalcy and family, he found himself indulging more and more often. He had purchased the downtown condo, and furnished it as if he planned to live out the rest of his days there. He had even copied and framed the treasured picture of his mother, and placed it on the mantle of his gas fireplace. Jarod knew he was just lying to himself, and his indulgences only served to make his constant uprooting harder. But he felt as if he couldn't survive any longer in his back alley, invisible existence he had so often embraced on his first few years outside of the Center.

Mrs. Finnegan had been Jarod's incredibly sweet neighbor. A recent widow, she lived for her grandchildren. Every Saturday she spent the day baking for her nine grandchildren in the area. Cookies, cakes and banana bread were her specialties. On Sunday she was often frequented by visitors, or tracked out to the suburbs to visit her own children and grandchildren.

Jarod had found himself spending more and more time with Mrs. Finnegan as his four weeks in Seattle played out. Her stories about her wonderful family filled his heart with laughter and joy. Jarod now understood the full meaning of 'living vicariously' through someone else. Through Mrs. Finnegan, he was able for the first time to picture himself had his life been Centre free, the joys and laughter that could have existed for him.

Jarod again focused his attention onto the paper bag he now clutched in his hand, his last link to his Seattle home. He had been unable to leave without saying goodbye to Mrs. Finnegan.

He had knocked on her door promptly at 7am. The two of them had begun a regular early morning tea ritual. She had ushered him in, and before he could say two words a steaming mug of Earl Grey was before him.

Jarod couldn't bear to tell her the truth- that he wasn't likely going to be able to come back. "I have to go away for a few weeks." He had lied. Guiltily he had fabricated a story of how he had a lead on his mother. Mrs. Finnegan didn't know the truth about Jarod's life, but she, just like many others had been privy to the fact that Jarod was lost from his family.

She had hugged him enthusiastically. "Best wishes Jarod!" I will be here waiting for you when you get back." He had turned to leave, but she halted him.

"Wait!" she had scurried excitedly into her kitchen and reappeared with the small brown paper bag he now clutched.

"For your journey, my dear! It is my world famous chocolate chip cookies. I cannot believe you haven't tried these by now!" Jarod had hugged her back. He stared now at the bag, and then glanced at his watched, sighing. Another thirty minutes until departure. Absently mindedly he grabbed a cookie. Perhaps in three weeks time he would come back for a few days. He couldn't dare to break that old ladies heart. Jarod smiled, it was almost like having a home to return to. Almost.

Glancing at the family waiting across from him, Jarod bit into his cookie. Mrs. Finnegan was an amazing cook, and cookies were her number one item. It wasn't until thirty seconds later that Jarod realized the error in his absent mindedness.

As he fell to the floor, his throat closing in, one word came to his mind, "Pistachios." Mrs. Finnegan, through no fault of her own, had failed to disclose the other key ingredient in her world famous chocolate chip cookies : Pistachio nuts, to which Jarod was deathly allergic.

The Conglomerate, Undisclosed Location, New Zealand

Lysander stared poker faced at floor. The constant pacing of the two guards in front of her wasn't helping to calm her nerves.

Two months. Lys had managed to breach the suffocating walls of the Conglomerate for two months.

The Conglomerate was a top-secret corporation hidden in the vast hills of New Zealand. Lys had been brought to the facility as a bright teenager, sixteen years of age. Her mother had thought she was sending Lys on a gifted retreat.

Lys still remembered clutching the small brown package her mom had thrust into her hands as Lys ride to the 'retreat' had shown up on their doorstep. A care package her mom had explained, with strict instructions to not open it until Lys had reached her destination.

Lys had ridden up to the retreat with an energetic fifteen year old girl named Alice. The two had talked passionately for the entire eight hour journey into the New Zealand countryside. Lys smiled as the two had tried unsuccessfully to lure their driver Lorne into any form of interaction.

The Conglomerate was impressive when it came into view. The facility was surrounded by a massive stone wall, something Lys would have expected to see surrounding the medieval castles in Europe.

Lys pulled herself out of the reverie, not willing to relive the experiences that had passed when she and Alice had been ushered into the main lounge of the Conglomerate. Needless to say, Lys had never been given the opportunity to open the care package her mother had lovingly sent with her that fateful day. It has been seventeen years since she had last seen her mother, despite three escape attempts, each resulting in longer bouts of freedom then the last.

Lys was a predictor. She had the ability to logically and unemotionally create and analyze situations. She excelled at military ops and stock market games. Her mentor called her kind 'emotionless pretenders'. Back in the 1960's the Conglomerate had tried unsuccessful to establish a pretender program. The company's recruits simply were not up to snuff, apparently.

Instead the company stumbled upon a different rendition on the much sought pretender gene. Predictors had the ability to envision various future outcomes. However without being able to utilize emotions as a factor in their predictions, it was impossible to zero in on an exact scenario, as a Pretender would be able.

However Predictors were highly valuable commodities. Military and stock market applications, areas where raw human emotion was highly discouraged, were the specialties of a predictor. Whereas a pretender may only simulate one potential outcome, a predictor could concur up numerous situations.

The door to the left of Lys was thrown open angrily. A gray-haired man emerged and barked immediately at the two guards. "Get her on her feet." Not even given a chance to react, Lys was pulled roughly to her feet. There was no point in trying to resist, her five foot six frame no match for the lumbering guards before her.

The gray-hair man stepped in front of Lys, looking her up and down. Lys felt deeply conscious about the mud caked into her long blond hair, and the deep gash down her cheek she had received when the sweepers had finally be able to retrieve her. Her clothes were still soaking wet from the heavy rain that had presided over her recapture.

"I’m glad you decided to rejoin us Lysander" the man spoke saucily.

"Always a pleasure Conrad" she responded cattily, and was rewarded with a hard slap across her cut cheek.

"The Triumvirate was most disappointed to hear about your most recent escape. They have decided to take a more supervisory role in your work."

Lys jerked her head up. "Africa?" She whispered weakly. Triumvirate headquarters were in Africa, and the greatest fear of all residents of the Conglomerate was to be shipped over there like a disobedient mule.

Conrad smirked down at the blond women before him, his intense stare penetrating into her innocent blue eyes. "You betcha Pet!" he said with great satisfaction. Lysander had been a pain in Conrad's ass ever since he had been assigned her case ten years prior. A spirited woman, Lysander had been difficult to control from the beginning. She had been through three mentors in six years before her genius had fallen into the hands of Conrad. Her portfolio was impressive, three penetrations beyond the massive stone wall of the Conglomerate, and about 50 times that in escape attempts. Despite all of the horrors Conrad had inflicted on Lysander, he had never succeeded in breaking her will. He smiled, knowing that after a stint in Africa, Lysander would never quite be the same. Conrad frowned as he remembered the last of his instructions from his triumvirate contact.

He cleared his throat and the guards pulling Lysander momentarily ceased their actions.

"Don't fret pet. We have a pit stop to make on the way to Africa. So you need not dread any crazy torture sessions from the Zulus - just yet." He added threateningly.

Lys turned her head questionably, disguising the apprehension in her voice she asked, "Where?"

"Top secret pet. You'll find out when you get there."

Lys could feel her heart beating in dreaded anticipated as the guards pulled her along the hallways. Things were not going well at all.

SEATTLE GENERAL HOSPITAL, AMBULANCE BAY

Ten hours was all it took. No sooner than one hour after Parker had expressed her urgency to located Jarod, had Broots pulled up a potential hit. Over the years, Broots had enjoyed plenty of downtime between Jarod's random clues to his whereabouts. He had used this time to create dozens of software packages. Currently his software had the capability to search any police, ambulance or fire scanner for anyone matching Jarod's description or anyone using the first name Jarod. Hospital admission records were scanned on an hourly basis. It had been a tremendous task, but in the seven years of the Jarod hunt, Broots had a lot of time he needed to appear busy. Idle hands were never a good thing in the Centre, especially with Lyle and Raines at the control tower.

Broots' software had pulled up a hit for a Jarod Nestle being submitted to Seattle General Hospital, with a deathly allergic reaction. Broots fondly recalled the time that Lyle had led him and Miss Parker on a kinky merry-go-round chase. Besides some great images of Miss Parker and whip that were sure to stay with him for the rest of his life, Broots remembered Jarod's allergy to pistachio nuts. Nestle, was exactly the kind of last name that Jarod would had been using. Broots had a hunch, and he hoped to god he was right.

Parker had immediately reported Broots' finding to Raines and Lyle, and within the hour the gang plus Lyle and faithful sweeper Sam had boarded the Centre jet. Some quick thinking by Parker, the Centre office in Seattle was able to prepare FBI identification for the gang.

Never before had Miss Parker shown such passion for capturing Jarod. It was almost of if she had grown content with her gun-wheeling, stiletto chasing act as she negotiated Jarod's carefully planned mazes. The Centre had always been desperate to reobtain Jarod, but never Parker, not like this.

Some ten hours later, the gang had just arrived via some snazzy FBI wannabe cars, provided by the local Center office, and now stood at the entrance of Seattle General Hospital.

Broots glanced over to Sydney and could tell the Belgian was greatly distressed. He wasn't sure what had set the psychiatrist off, where it Lyle's smug look, the false warrant that claimed Jarod as a murderer, or was it the uncertainty that his protégé had indeed survived another deadly allergy attack. Hell none of the gang even knew if it was in fact Jarod in there.

Miss Parker's commanding voice brought Broots out of his reverie. "Broots watch Dr. Freud, make sure he doesn't do anything you're going to regret. Sam, Lyle, with me."

Broots watched as the three of them strode into the emergency wing of the hospital. He couldn't decide if he was hoping they emerged with Jarod or not.

EMERGENCY WING, SEATTLE GENERAL

Jarod's first thought when he returned to consciousness was off the immense pain in his throat. He felt like he had been through one of Lyle's jumper cable torture sessions about a hundred times over. Struggling through the fuzz in his head, Jarod squinted his eyes open.

A nearby nurse noticed the motion coming from her formerly unconscious charge and called down the hall for a doctor. Striding over to Jarod "Mr. Nestle! How are you feeling?"

Jarod's grimaced as he tried to swallow was enough response for her. Supporting Jarod as she eased into a reclined position, the nurse looked at him with concerned eyes.

"You know where you are? Why you're here?" She questioned.

Jarod nodded his head, berating himself in his head for not noticing the pistachio nuts in those god damn cookies. "How long have I been out?" He managed weakly, as the nurse held a small cup of water to his mouth.

"About ten hours, give or take. You gave us quite a scare Mr. Nestle." At the mention of his Seattle assumed last name, Jarod startled. "Shit." He exclaimed loudly.

The nurse mistook Jarod's anxiety and continued. "It was quite the reaction you had. The doctors weren't sure if you were going to pull through. I can assume this is not your first serious reaction to the nuts. You know you should really carry an epi-pen, if it hadn't been for the kid with the bee allergy you -"

The nurse's voice trailed off as Jarod sat up suddenly. The ambulance crew had obviously found Jarod's Seattle Driver License he had carried in his wallet. Being checked into the hospital as an anonymous John Doe would have bought him valuable hours from the Center's constant eye. If the hospital had identified him as Jarod Nestle, it wouldn't be long until the Centre caught wind.

Jarod pulled himself to a standing position as he mentally calculated the flying hours from Blue Cove to Seattle. Ten hours unconscious, he had to leave now! Pushing the frantic nurse aside with much more force than he meant, Jarod stumbled to the doorway, yanking out his IV as he tore out of the room. He needed out. Jarod looked desperately from left to right, surveying the hospital wing. He saw the main reception to the left and instinctively moved away from it, to the right. Jarod maintained his frantic pace as he stumbled his way desperately an exit.. any exit. Behind him he could hear the cries of the nurse he had left at his bedside.

Jarod's heart thudded with relief when he spotted the stairway exit to the parking garage. He threw himself through the doorway, wondering exactly where he was planning on going in the thin hospital gown that barely covered his necessities.

Jarod paused momentarily, grasping his hands tightly around the stair railing. He was rewarded with the familiar sound of a gun click. "Turn around Jarod." An all too familiar voice sneered.

Jarod turned around slowly, matching eye contact with his pursuer.

"Parker."

"Time to suit up genius, you're coming home." Parker commented confidently, no doubt smirking at the pretender's rather unfortunate state of dress.

Jarod opened his mouth to retort, but was quickly distracted as Lyle, Sam and his nurse burst into the staircase.

"Mr. Nestle, you must come back to bed-!" The nurse said desperately, stopping when she noticed the 9mm firmly in Parker's grip, and pointed directly at her patient.

Jarod leaned heavily on the staircase.

Lyle stepped forward. "We have a warrant for Mr. Nestle's arrest." He flipped his fake Center provided badge, ignoring Jarod's flabbergasted look. The nurses disapproving stare left no doubt in Jarod's mind that she bought the well planned Centre charade.

Jarod looked desperately at Miss Parker as he felt Sam's presence behind him.

"A warrant?" he sneered accusingly, as he heard the clanging of handcuffs.

Lyle turned and faced Jarod, clearing enjoying the moment as evident by the wide smirk on his face. As Sam pressed Jarod against the wall, yanking his hands and securing tightly behind his back, Jarod was sure he heard Lyle reciting him his Miranda rights.

Northern Alberta, Canada

Lys fidgeted uncomfortably, the chains encircling her limbs jingling softly with her jerky movements. Across the plane Conrad glanced over at her. "Sit still." He commaned, and then returned to his mobile.

Lys sighed. As if she had any other choice. She had been strapped down since their plane had left New Zealand heading in what Lys had hypothesized as the direction of North America.

There had been a brief refueling layover somewhere on the West coast, or so Lys had figured. She had watched hopefully as Conrad and the four sweepers accompanying her had gotten off the plane in shifts, returning with wonderful smelling dinners.

Food was not offered to Lys, but she was given a two minute comfort break after swallowing her pride and requesting one from Conrad.  

Lys turned her attention to the snowy landscape visible through the small plane window. Lys and her mother had always talked about taking a skiing vacation to the Canadian Rockies. Here she was, seventeen plus years later, finally setting foot in North America. She had to enjoy the irony.

After the refueling, the plane had taken off for a much shorter leg, no more then two hours by Lys's best estimate. She had craned her neck on landing and had been rewarded with views of snowy mountains. This was not how she had envisioned her Canadian skiing dream vacation.

The plane had now been at a standstill for what Lys assumed to be about 30 minutes. When they landed Conrad had quickly surveyed the surroundings. "Bloody ride isn't here." He had mumbled, obviously annoyed.

The sweepers had seemed content to leave Lys tethered in the uncomfortable airplane seat. Currently they were outside the plane, assigned to lookout duty by Conrad. He seemed urgent to get them out of here. For once Lys almost agreed with him. After what felt like a lifetime on the airplane, barely able to move a muscle, Lys was hungry, thirsty and most of all desperate for a chance to use the washroom. As usual Conrad was ignorant to Lys's primal needs. Nothing had changed in the ten years she had spent under his supervision, and as usual, Lys refused to satisfy him by begging, once on this trip was enough.

Lys again yanked impatiently against the chain encircling her right wrist. Conrad looked up, the smirk of satisfaction firmly implant on his face. "Not comfortable, pet?" Lys looked away, willing herself not to engage in a verbal battle of wills with Conrad. Fortunately a sweeper chose that moment to re-enter the cabin.

"Sir– the convoy was just spotted. They are making their way straight to hangar." Conrad shut his mobile shut instantly.

"Go meet them, and ensure they have adequately secure transportation for Lysander. I didn't fly all the way here just to have her disappear in a damn snow bank."

"Yes sir!" The young sweeper said enthusiastically, swinging around. Conrad glanced at Lys thoughtfully, but quickly returned to his mobile, dialing a new number. Lys threw her head against the seat in frustration. 'Soon' she thought, acutely aware of her screaming bladder and throbbing muscles.

Both Lys and Conrad bolted upright instant later as the sound of gunfire erupted into the air. Lys counted 15 shots. Conrad rushed to the window and swore loudly. Still on his mobile he snapped "You promised this airport plane would be secure!" As the mystery man on the other end of the line spoke Lys could see Conrad's fist tighten with anger as the other man spoke.

"Yes sir. I remember the contingency plan."

Throwing his mobile against the plane wall, Conrad turned to Lys, pulling his 9 mm out from behind him.

"Nothing personal pet. We just can't let them have you."

"Them?" Lys questioned desperately as Conrad approached her, his 9mm firmly targeting her skull. Lys cringed as Conrad started to squeeze the trigger, the sound of a gunshot loudly piercing the air.

Private Airport, Outskirts Seattle Washington

A few thousand kilometers away Jarod sat miserably aside Sam, the sweeper keeping a careful watch on their catch of the day. He was still somewhat flabbergasted at the rendition of the wholesome American show Cops, that Parker and Lyle had put on at the hospital. Jarod had not forgotten Angelo's vague email, and he had a hunch that this mysterious Corporation Zero was intertwined in this whole mess. The Centre wouldn't risk impersonating federal officials over just anything, and although they were desperate to get him back, he doubted that his recovery was the sole motivation behind the charade.

Rolling his shoulders slightly, trying to ease the strain in his arms caused by having his hands restrained behind him, Jarod scanned the area discreetly. He could see Parker and Lyle talking with the pilot outside the Centre Jet. Broots and Sydney were waiting patiently outside the van.

Jarod sighed loudly. His body was still recuperating from the near deadly allergic reaction. He was exhausted, his muscles screaming for relief. Jarod could feel the cold sweat on him, the mixture of overexertion and anxiety at his current situation taking its toll. Jarod shook his head briefly, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed his brain at top capacity, ready to capitalize at any opportunity of escape.

Peering again outside the window, he caught Sydney's concerned gaze briefly. He could see the Parker twins striding confidently towards the van. Parker pulled the door open, not meeting Jarod's stare. "Sam, get him ready." She commanded.

Jarod grimaced as the burly sweeper roughly pulled him out the van, his iron grip keeping a tight hold on the pretender's arm. The brisk Seattle wind cut straight through Jarod, causing him to shiver violently. Fortunately, thanks to Sydney's negotiations, Jarod had been allowed to return to his hospital room, and receive his final check out from the doctor. Sydney had located the pretender's belongings, and Jarod had been able to change out of the hospital robe into his own clothes, restoring a small amount of the pretender’s dignity.

"Jarod how you feeling?" Sydney's concerned voice questioned, as the Belgian stepped up to his protégé, placing a hand on Jarod's forehead. "You're feverish.” the shrink answered for him.  “Parker - we need to get him out of the cold."

Jarod heard a clanging coming from Lyle's direction, and looked over to see Lyle approaching him, leg irons outstretched in his hands. Jarod took a step back instinctively, and was quickly slammed headfirst into the side of the van by Sam. He let an inaudible groan of frustration. Here he was, recovering from a nearly deadly allergic reaction, barely able to stand, let alone run, and they were keeping him more restrained than a rabid dog.

Jarod could hear Sydney's protest. "Parker. Are those really necessary? We need to get him inside, he should still be in the hospital.I doubt he could outrun me right now, let alone Sam."

"Jarod's a big boy." Parker replied, uncaringly.

After Lyle had finish securing the chains around Jarod's ankles, Sam roughly pushed him forward, towards the plane. Lyle smirked at Jarod, taking in the pretenders pale face. "Hometime Jarod!" Ignoring the taunt, Jarod gingerly moved forward, the chains encircling his ankles combined with his fever induced dizziness were overcomplicating the walking process immensely.

As the group approached the plane, the pilot hopped out, a mobile clutched in his hands. "Mr. Lyle sir, the Tower wishes a word."

Lyle grabbed the phone roughly from the pilot. "What." He spoke harshly in a tone rivaling that of his twin's. Jarod's brow lifted as Lyle's expression tightened. "Understood. We will depart instantly." Looking up to Parker he continued. "All Centre planes are grounded. We travel by road."

Parker nodded to Sam, whose grip tightened automatically on the Pretender's arm as he whipped his charge around like a disobedient child. Jarod strained against the sweeper to look back towards the plane, and could see Lyle and Parker deep in discussion. He frowned, noting the truce that seemed to exist amongst the twins. What exactly would scare Parker into working willingly with her manic murdered of a twin brother? And what would ground Centre aircraft? This was big.

Northern Alberta, Canada

Lys threw her eyes open as the gunshot echoed through the cabin of the plane. Breathing sharply she surveyed her slender form, quickly concluding that she was still intact. Glancing down, her eyes widened as she caught sight of Conrad's fallen form, blood oozing from a single bullet wound to his head.

Moving her attention across the cabin, Lys sat stunned as ten men, clad in black assault clothing piled into cabin, each of their assault rifles pointed directly at her. A man of average height, and brown hair approached Lys saucily, his eyes taking her slender form in hungrily. Reaching down to Conrad's corpse, he felt until he pulled out the keys that would free Lys from her bonds.

"Lysander." He stated, as she matched his gaze. "Welcome to Corporation Zero." He bent down and released her. Lys jumped up, her muscles screaming in relief. Wary of the ten guns still trained upon her, Lys took a ginger step forward.

Glancing again at Conrad's fallen form she glared at the brown haired man. "Thanks. He was a real pain in my ass."

"They said you were spirited." The brown haired man replied, as he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "I believe you know the drill." He said pointedly, indicating the restraints he held in his hands.

Lys cocked her head. "I think you are going to have to refresh my memory there mate." With that Lys took off with lightening speed towards the back of the cabin, diving when a shot rang out. It really wasn't the most intelligent of plans, but Lys refused to be taken easily.

Looking back over her shoulder, Lys could see the brown hair man held his gun horizontally, a bullet hole evident in the window infront of him. "That was your only warning Lysander. Next one goes through your knee."

Conscious again of the nine other guns trained upon her, Lys remained on the ground, submissively placing her hands behind her back. She closed her eyes tightly as the footsteps quickly surrounded her.

Lys jerked back when a hand carefully brushed her long blond hair behind her ear. The brown hair man moved his hands down and restrained the predictor. He used his boot to force Lys onto her side.

She met his gaze defiantly, as he grabbed a section of her hair, giving it a painful tug so she would lift her head in his direction.

"There is nothing I love more then a misbehaving lady. Don't test me girl." With that he yanked Lys to her feet, and tossed her into the group of men. "Load her in the truck." As Lys was dragged out of the plane, she glanced back at Conrad's corpse, disgusted at the small feeling of remorse that was growing within her.

CENTER TRANSPORT VAN, EN ROUTE TO WASHINGTON STATE SAFE HOUSE

Jarod was cold. He shivered violently, failing to suppress the coughing fit that quickly followed. Beside him, Sydney placed a comforting hand on the pretender's shoulder, draping his blazer over the pretender's chest.

"Parker. Jarod's fever is worsening. We must stop soon for the night." Sydney pleaded.

Jarod could hear the rustling of a map, as Broots attempted to navigate. The group was heading for a nearby Centre safehouse somewhere in the Washington countryside. "Left at the next road, and we should be pretty much there." The tech mumbled.

Jarod pressed his face against the window, barely able to stay awake, cursing himself for failing physically. They were driving through thick forest, the sky dark on the moonless winter night. In better health, it would be the ideal location to make a run for it. He could easily disappear into the dense forest. Thankfully it wasn't long before Sam turned the van down a lumpy driveway, stopping beside an impressive three storey stone house.

Parker and Lyle immediately went to survey the inside with Broots trudging along. Sydney stayed behind, no doubt to continue his careful watch over his ailing pretender.

Jarod put up no protest as Sam guided him out of the van after Lyle had given the sweeper the go ahead, wobbling slightly as the sweeper harshly pushed him forward toward the house. It was very obvious that the sweeper had some unresolved issues with the pretender, most likely over Jarod's last escape from Centre custody, while enroute to Africa.

The warmth from the house was welcome relief to Jarod as he was guided through the frontdoor. His body did not react well to the sudden temperature change and he immediately fell victim to another violent coughing fit, causing the pretender to lurch out of Sam's grip on his shoulder. Sydney quickly step forward and guided Jarod towards a comfortable looking couch, barking an order at Broots to prepare some tea.

"Save the touching father and son routine Sydney." Lyle mocked as he pulled open the basement door. "Center property stays in the basement. Lets go Jarod."

Jarod squeezed his eyes shut, as Sam pushed Sydney aside, returning once again to Jarod's side, redirecting the pretender towards Lyle. Jarod had no choice but to allow himself to be ushered across the room, as he was still carefully restrained at the ankles and wrists. He could hear Sydney protesting behind him to Miss Parker.

"Relax Syd, you can do the mommy routine after Jarod is secured for the evening." Was his huntress's snarky reply.

Descending down the stairs, Jarod was instantly greeted by a chill, the basement definitely lacked the inviting warmth of the house upstairs. The basement walls were done in large menacing stone, remnant to the exterior of the house. At the bottom awaited several doors, each with the familiar electronic lock that Jarod had come to loathe in his years at the Centre.

Lyle carefully keyed the passcode to the second door on the right, the electronic click indicating the lock had been disabled. He opened the small door, allowing Sam to usher Jarod in. The sweeper wasted no time in shoving the pretender against the wall, searching him briefly before undoing his restraints.

"Sweet dreams Jarod." Lyle said sarcastically as he and Sam exited the room, the door closing harshly behind them. Jarod flinched as the electronic lock was activated. He swallowed, trying to control the familiar feeling of panic from creeping up. It was if he could feel the stone walls encroaching in on him.

Surveying his surroundings as best he could in the dark windowless room, Jarod sunk miserably into a corner. The cell was barren save the security camera above his head, and a small toilet. Hugging his knees desperately, Jarod lowered himself to a lying position on the ground as he shivered violently. Desperation was setting in. Even if escape presented an opportunity, Jarod knew he wouldn't get far in his current condition. He was trapped.

Jarod quickly shifted his thoughts to his Seattle apartment. Closing his eyes, he visualized the welcoming smile of Mrs. Finnegan. His panic dissipated as he recalled the many conversations the two of them had shared in the past few weeks. His thoughts turned to his father, and Jay, his clone. He would get through this next test with the Center. He would so he could see his father, drink tea with Mrs. Finnegan, finally meet his mother. Jarod's features relaxed as he imagined himself fishing with his father, drifting into a exhausted sleep as his imagination drove his fears away.

MAIN FLOOR, CENTRE SAFEHOUSE

Parker paced the length of the kitchen of the Centre safehouse, taking a long drag of her cigarette, praying she would find a stash of something strong in the cupboards.

Around the corner she could hear Sydney and Broots in deep conversation, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Parker have never dreamt that her and twin would ever work willingly together. As Lyle had once asked her "What are you willing to do to survive?" Parker was quickly finding out the limits of her desperation.

Parker felt her ulcer twinge slightly as her mind focused on Jarod. Parker had returned from Africa, knowing the only thing that would save the Centre, that would save them all, would be Jarod. As her father had always said, "Jarod is the key." True more so now than ever. It was simply dumb luck on the Centre's behalf that Jarod had experienced an unfortunate run in with pistachio nuts.

Parker felt guilty about keeping Sydney and Broots in the dark. They were such loyal members of her team. It was a Triumvirate order, one of many that Parker had returned with after the unexpected summons to Africa. She had hoped that this would end soon, that the Triumvirate's predictions were exaggerated, and that Broots and Sydney would never have to know the extent of the Centre's predicament.  After the call Lyle had received at the airport however, Parker was certain they were in for a long and frightening ride.

Parker leaned heavily on the counter, finishing her cigarette before tossing it carelessly into the nearby sink, her mind once again turning to Jarod. Ever since Carthis, Parker's feelings towards Jarod had been nothing short of a rollercoaster. She was aware of the guilt and remorse she felt towards her former childhood friend, currently locked up in an uninviting cell in the basement. Now the roles of huntress and prey were being forced upon the two in a way that had never happened in the past.

Parker did share Sydney's concern over Jarod's current well being.Fever or no fever, Parker was willing to do whatever necessary to keep Jarod in their custody, at least until the looming threat had passed. Jarod was far too resourceful, and Parker knew the longer he was under Centre control, the more desperate he would become.

Parker turned sharply, straightening her form as she heard her twin enter the kitchen. "Wonder-boy secure for the night?" She said, adding as much menace into her tone as possible, disguising her concern for the pretender.

"Sam's keeping a close guard. I've ordered additional sweepers from our Seattle office, they should be here by within a few hours."

Parker nodded in approval, and began rummaging through the cupboards, looking for that bourbon stash. "Sydney's been begging to see Jarod. Considering his current medical state, I think it might be wise."

Lyle shook his head. "I think the labrat can survive one night without a visit from his wet-nurse."

Parker's expression grew more serious, ignoring her twins lack of caring towards Jarod. "Has there been any further word from our friends in New Zealand?"

Lyle met Parker's gaze. "I just received the call downstairs. Local Centre officials went to the hangar to check it out. Four sweepers and the subject's handler were found dead. Our designated convoy is still MIA. We can only assume that the subject has been taken. The handler obviously failed in his orders to eliminate her if a threat was presented."

"So we are now following our contingency plan? We are to take Jarod to the designated rendezvous point?" Parker questioned, her search finally leading her to an unopened bottle of Scotch. She eagerly grabbed it from the cupboard, reaching for the nearest glass.

Lyle nodded. "It would be too obvious and dangerous to return with him to the Centre." Parker – our orders have been also been changed regarding Jarod.

Parker met the eyes of her twin. "What?" She questioned, pouring the golden liquid into her glass.

"We have been ordered to eliminate Jarod if circumstances fall out of the Centre's favour." Parker froze, staring emptily into the Scotch before her. She felt her twin behind her, snatching the bottle of alcohol and pouring himself a generous portion.

"Relax Sis, I'm sure the labrat would appreciate being put out of his misery."

Parker ignored her brother's barbaric comment, grimacing as her ulcer twinged with pain. "I think now is the time to alert Broots and Sydney. They need to know what is going on. Sydney is probably the only way to ensnare Jarod's cooperation - quickly."

Lyle smirked. "I think I am adequately qualified to preside in that department."

Parker cringed internally as she observed the twinkling of anticipation in her twin's eyes. She shot the scotch back in one expert gulp, and walked towards Sydney and Broots. "Let the games begin" she muttered under her breath.

CORPORATION ZERO, HEADQUARTERS

TEXAS, UNITED STATES

Lys slowly pulled herself into consciousness, aware of a pounding headache. She gingerly opened her eyes, as the bright institutional light invaded them painfully.

"Drugs." Lys thought bitterly, noting the metallic taste at the back of her mouth, and the familiar dryness in her throat.

Attempting to raise her head, Lys heart rate accelerated as she found she could not. Turning then to her arms and legs she was equally unsuccessful. She tried to turn her head, and noting with increasing panic she was unable to do that.

Breathing deeply Lys tried to calm herself down. "Get a grip!!" she told herself firmly. Closing her eyes, Lys concentrated on her breathing, trying to fight the feeling of terror that was slowly enveloping her.

Lys jumped out of her skin when she felt two cold hands behind her ears. She opened her eyes to meet that of her capture.

"Welcome back to reality Lysander." Lys narrowed her eyes as she recognized the brown haired man from plane.

"What do you want with me?" She croaked, chiding herself for sound so weak.

The man laughed. "Same thing anyone has ever wanted from you, Predictions. You are after all a star predictor." He finished sarcastically.

Lysander swallowed. "You and your little corporation can kiss my kiwi ass. I'm not doing a bloody thing for you." She shot out, bracing herself for a slap on the face, but relaxed after several moments when one didn’t come.  

"A naive remark Lysander." The main said, feigning disappointment in his tone, his hands traveling to her shoulder blades."

"Who are you?" Lys questioned.

"I'm Alex, not that it is of your concern. Now I will ask you again. You agree do a few predictions for us, you get off this table and away we go. If not I'm in for a whole lot of fun, at your expense."

Lys stared back at him, faking thoughtful consideration at the question. She wasn't about to be bullied into doing anything. Raising her eyebrows, she spat into the man's face. This time she was rewarded with a stinging slap against her face.

"Big mistake Lysander." Alex said angrily. "Though I can't pretend I'm disappointed."

He returned his hands to her shoulders and slowly moved them down to the restraint above her chest. Alex efficiently removed all of Lys's bonds, not even giving her a moment to respond, he yanked her off the sterile metallic table. Lys landed roughly at his feet, her five foot six frame forming a heap at his feet.

Lys rolled away frantically, and popped onto her feet, ignoring the protests emanating from nearly every bone in her body. Desperate she lunged at Alex, obviously catching him by surprise as crashed to the floor.

Lys spun around, only to see nine men storm into the room, advancing onto her. Lys backed up slowly, regretting her physical outburst. She had never been able to control her emotions easily, despite years of conditioning by the Conglomerate.

Lys stopped as she felt the cold concrete of the wall against her back. Masking her fear, she looked defiantly at Alex who had recovered from his fall and was striding furiously over to her.

Refusing to surrender easily, Lys lunged at him with a sharp kick, the years of karate her mom had put her through as a youngster still fresh in her mind. However Alex was to fast and Lys soon found herself pinned on the ground, her hands being secured tightly behind her back with handcuffs.

Alex slammed her head into the floor. "They might have tolerated these premenstrual outbursts back at the Conglomeration, but they won't fly here at Corporation Zero."

Alex motioned to two of the guards and they pulled Lys off the floor. "It seems Lysander wants to hear more about our employee benefit package before she begins her work. You know where to take her." Alex spoke to the group.

The strength to resist gone, Lysander lowered her gaze to the floor and allowed herself to be pulled from the room, almost craving the familiarity of her former prison – the Conglomerate.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE

Jarod was pulled out of his feverish sleep as the he heard the electronic lock disengage, surprised when Parker strode into his cell, a mug of what smelt like tea in her hands. Sam followed behind her, a blankets in the sweepers arms.

Jarod remained silent, as Parker motioned for Sam to leave, the blankets dropped in a heap at the pretender's feet.

"How are you feeling Jarod?" Parker asked, her voice void of emotion.

Jarod shrugged, meeting his huntress eyes. "I've been better."

"Jarod…I.." Parker started, as she bent down to hand the genius the steaming mug in her hands, her hand lingering for a moment to long as his made contact with hers. Jarod could have sworn he heard an undertone of kindness in her voice. Parker seemed to stop herself, and Jarod could see ice queen hardness enveloping around her – her face loosing the softness it had shown only moments earlier.

"You better get some sleep genius. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow." Jarod nodded, wondering if Parker was feeling as awkward about their new power dynamics as he was.

For the last seven years, Jarod has been the one calling the shots, taunting Parker, sending her clues to her past, when he felt the time was appropriate.

This really was the first time Jarod was aware of their power dynamics changing, and could not understand why his childhood friend seemed so desperate to have him back in Center shackles once again. Their relationship had taken a softer turn after the events of Carthis.

While Lyle seemed quite pleased to constantly remind Jarod of his place in Center hierarchy, Parker had never played that card. However this time around he was made to feel very aware that it was she who held the key to his chains, and whether it was just the influence of his feverish state or not, Jarod found himself unable to freely exchange words and barbs with his huntress, as he had done, often with pleasure, for the past seven years.

Taking a cautious sip of the mug, desperate to feel some warmth from within, Jarod murmured a weak thank you to Parker, meeting her eyes once again.

Parker nodded curtly. "Sleep-tight rat-boy." Her eyes lingered over the pretender, before she silently turned and left him alone once again.

SEATTLE GENERAL HOSPITAL

Two men in dark suits approached the nurse's station in the Emergency Room.

"Excuse Miss – we are here to see a patient of yours, a Mr. Jarod Nestle."

The nurse raised her eyebrow, recalling her criminally prone patient from yesterday morning. "And you are -?"

"CIA" One of the men answered, flipping his badge.

The nurse shook her head. "You'll have to ask your friends in the FBI, they arrested him yesterday."

The other man swore under his breath, as the two spun around and strode angrily out of the hospital. "Sir – we have a problem. It seems the Center got to him first."

Hanging up the phone, the man turned to his partner. "Alex isn't going to like this one bit."

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE

Jarod awoke groggily, tight and sore from his night spent curled up on the cold concrete. He was immediately assaulted by an intense coughing fit.

After relieving himself and drinking some much needed water from the sink, Jarod leaned heavily against the wall, curling himself back under the warmth of the blankets Parker had provided him the night before. He couldn't remember feeling this ill since that awful night he spent breaking Raines' induced drug addiction.

He became aware of some motion outside the door, and soon heard the familiar sound of the electronic lock disengaging. Jarod pushed himself to the middle of the cell, and out of the warm blankets, not wanting to show his visitor the full extent of his weakness, not that they didn't have the whole damn thing on camera.

Preparing himself for Lyle, Jarod was surprise when Sydney came into view, his eyes narrowing as two unfamiliar sweepers followed the psychiatrist into the room.

"How are you feeling Jarod?" Sydney questioned, breaking the awkward silence in the room as Jared traded threatening stares with the two sweeper.

"Just peachy. These accommodations are really top of the line." Jarod spat out sarcastically.

Sydney ignored his protégé's bitter remark and walked up to the man, feeling his forehead.

"You're burning up Jarod." Sydney said matter of factly, observing the thin layer of sweat that covered the pretender. "We have to get moving again, but I'll try and get you some breakfast on the way."

Motioning to the sweeper behind him, Sydney presented Jarod with a bundle of clothes. “A change of clothes.”

Jarod recognized the black material belonging to the Centre uniform he had worn for most of his life and was instantly grew conscious of his own fever soaked clothing. He shook his head at the shrink. He wasn't ready to acknowledge defeat yet. "I'm fine." He lied. Jarod loathed the clothes that Sydney held in front of him. They made him feel owned, Centre property.

"Listen to Sydney." A familiar female voice said from behind as Miss Parker strode into the room. "You put them on now, or I'll have Gus and Mario convince you to change into them." Jarod glared daggers at her.

"Now Jarod." Parker threatened.

Jarod sighed in resignation, recalling the scene that had ensued after Lyle had returned him to the Center after Parker had been shot. He hadn't been keen to give up his wardrobe then either. "Fine." He snarled, grabbing the clothes roughly from Sydney, waiting for the crew to leave him.

"We're waiting Jarod." Parker prodded.

Jarod turned away from the group, shaking with anger at the lack of privacy he was being allowed. He quickly stripped himself of his fever-soaked clothing and yanked the Center issued clothes on angrily.

Turning to face the group once again Jarod noticed the handcuffs waiting in Parker's hands.

"Enjoyed the show that much Miss Parker?" Jarod taunted, seemingly able to find more words then the night before. He held out his hands obediently, his muscles relieved he was being restrained in the front. The though of another long day with his arms pinned painfully behind him was too much bear.

Parker ignored his comment as she fasted the metal bracelets around the pretenders wrist.

"Good boy." Parker mocked in a tone reminiscent of her twin. "Boys let go." She commanded. Jarod soon found himself firmly planted between the two unfamiliar sweepers. It was going to be a long trip back to the Centre.

EN-ROUTE TO RENDEZVOUS POINT

Sydney sat stoically beside Broots, looking absentmindedly outside the window. Between Parker's nearly inhumane treatment of Jarod, to the mysterious cloud that surrounded the Parker twins' actions, Sydney's patience was running thin. This morning he hadn't been allowed so much as five minutes to give his ailing pretender some much needed medical attention – let alone breakfast.

Overnight, four sweepers from what Sydney had assumed to be from the local Seattle branch had arrived to assist in Jarod's transport. Sydney had felt a swell of pride, knowing Jarod's spirited ways had struck a wave of fear with the Centre – a company that was not easily coerced or intimidated.

Sydney frowned as he recalled the scene that had awaited the crowd as they had emerged from the confines of the safehouse where they had spent the night. The Seattle based sweepers had not brought the usual Centre issued black Lincolns. Instead two large green utility fans had been parked in the driveway, each displaying a prominent logo for Aquastar Cleaning Services, in bright yellow.

The vans themselves were downright puzzling. However it was Jarod's reaction was troubling Sydney greatly. The pretender had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the vans, as if in a trance. Sydney had recognized the look that had been plastered on the pretender's face, he had observed it many times in his years with Jarod –clearly his protégé had been troubled by a memory of his past.

Jarod had tried to pull himself in the direction of Sydney, but was instead rewarded by being slammed harshly against the side of the first van by the over eager sweepers. Sydney's protests had been enough to halt the sweepers momentarily and once the shrink had reached his protégé's side Jarod had hastily called out "239B Sydney" before he was maneuvered into the waiting van on Parker's urgent command. Sydney had moved to follow, but a sweeper had blocked his path and pointed to the second van. "This way Sir."

Sydney had turned to Parker to protest, but the glare that had been thrown in his direction left little room to argue. 239B– Sydney had recognized the number as a past simulation, however his aged memory could not recall any specifics. For now Sydney could only hope that more would come clear when they returned to the Centre.

CORPORATION ZERO HEADQUARTERS

"How is our alpha priority tasklist coming along?" The dark suited man at the head of the boardroom table inquired.

The brown haired man known to Lys as Alex stood up to formally address his superiors. "Sir – we have virtually eliminated our competition in the European markets. We feel confident that we shall soon be ready to attack our North American markets. We also have secured one of our priority targets and are close on the tail of another."

"And the Africans?"

"They are aware of our existence, and our intent. However after we have secured our next priority target, they shall severely lack the resources to retaliate."

"The girl is she co-operating?" The dark suited man pressed.

Alex smirked. "I guarantee by the end of the day she will be seriously re-considering her loyalty."

The dark suited man nodded his approval. "If there are no further questions we shall leave you to proceed."

Alex nodded in respect then fled the boardroom. "Prepare Lysander, I will be there in twenty." He spoke to the guard that met him at the elevator.

"Yes Sir."

Alex smiled evily as he stepped into the elevator. Soon. Everything he was wishing for was all going to be happening soon.

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION, NORTHERN UTAH

Jarod coughed heavily, closing his eyes against the intense throbbing that presided in his head. He swallowed, cringing at the pain in his raw throat, wishing desperately for water. The van he rode in had just exited the highway, they soon would be at what Jarod suspected to temporarily be his final destination.

Jarod has been nervously contemplating the consequences of his current situation. The cleaning vans had immediately assaulted him with a memory of a past sim- simulation #239 B.

Jarod has been around twenty, when he had been required to do a series of high profile security simulations. Sydney had told him that they had a high profile client who wished to create a safe sanctuary in case of emergency situations.

Jarod had carefully simmed everything, from transportation to and from the sanctuary, ideal location, and most importantly how to maintain a completely anonymous profile.

The profile Jarod had selected was a cleaning service. A business where comings and goings twenty four hours a day are the norm, given commercial business contracts for overnight cleanings. Large utility vans were also a norm in the business, a tremendous asset for transporting sensitive cargo. He had never envisioned that he would himself one day be classified as “sensitive cargo”.

Jarod knew that Aquastar Cleaning Services was not in the car rental business; the company was created by the Centre as a result of simulation series 239.

Jarod had not forgotten about Angelo's email, and his genius brain was alarming him to a most obvious conclusion. The Centre was in trouble, likely engaging in a corporate war with

Corporation Zero, and he was about to be thrown straight into the middle of it.

In the world of these top secret organizations, deception ruled the roost. The rules of the game were that was none. Lord of the flies in business suits.

As far as Jarod was concerned he would be damned before he would help the Center get out of this mess.

CORPORATION ZERO HEADQUARTERS

Lys looked up as the door to her cell was thrown open. Two unfamiliar men stood in front of her, each holding a set of manacles.

Lys ignored their presence, instead feigning interest in the sparse 5'x6' room she occupied.

"Get up and face the wall." The first man barked after what Lys determined to be an uncomfortable period of silence. Lys refused to meet his eyes.

Lys had been sixteen when she had been ripped from her life as a carefree New Zealand teenager. She had wonderful friends, a dog, a mother who adored her, and tremendous passion for life. Lys hadn't adjusted well to the confining existence the Conglomeration had forced her into. To this day she remained stubborn, everything to her was a fight worth fighting for. The constant bruising on her face and arms was a testament to her dedication to being completely uncooperative.

Unfortunately for Lys her spirit did not match her size. Her five foot six frame was easy prey for the lumbering guards that constantly worked to keep her in-line. Lys almost enjoyed the pain, anything to make her feel human, living. After nearly two decades in the heartless and sterile institutional environment of the Conglomeration, Lys craved the ability to feel raw human emotion. So much had been denied to her.

The guards were of course angered by her disobedience. Both dropped the manacles they were holding and scooped down to yank Lys to her feet. Prepared for their attack, Lys lunged at the two men, the two of them toppling clumsily to the floor as they were both hit with a punishing swing kick.

Lys seized her moment, and sprinted out of the cell. She made it two floors up before the guards caught up with her. Not bad for a first escape attempt. She would only get better.

Aquastar Cleaning Services - Headquarters

The group had finally reached their destination: Aquastar Cleaning Services. The five story building was built into a steep hillside, and the vans had followed a steep driveway downwards into a small underground parking garage. Jarod was sure there were at least a few extra floors hidden beneath the surface.

Jarod sat alone the van, waiting patiently for his entourage to escort him. Not that he had any choice, his already shackled arms and legs further secured to the floor and walls of the van. The journey from the safehouse had been passed in silence. Separated from Sydney and others, there was no one to trade barbs with. The van full of sweepers escorting him were not worth wasting any breath on.

Sweepers operated under a simple code. Be good, and they would escort you around like a mindless mute. Break the rules, and be subjected to an endless line of unnecessary shoves, slaps and threats. Jarod had normally flown under the radar of the brute squad during his first tenure at the Center. During his second short stay, he had been unnecessarily bruised at any opportunity. After the embarrassment his escape off the airplane had caused Sam, Jarod knew the sweepers really had his number. One thing could be counted on in the world of sweepers, they gossiped worth than high-school girls. Jarod knew that well – he had done a small pretend as a high school English teacher. Yes the mindless muscles were out to seek revenge for Sam, and Jarod knew his stay in center custody this time around would be far from pleasant.

Outside the van he could see Parker and Lyle arguing quietly. Parker kept throwing concerned glances in his direction and Jarod was positive he was the topic of conversation.

Jarod was fighting hard to remain calm – his fever had worsened, leaving him feeling increasingly vulnerable. He knew the Centre was desperate for information, something that would come from exploiting his genius. Focusing his gaze on Lyle, Jarod shivered. It had taken all of his mental and physical strength to survive the 'retraining' session Lyle had put Jarod through during his last stay at the Centre. How much could he endure in his weakened state?

Jarod watched as Miss Parker threw her hands up in the air, obviously conceding to Lyle. He watched as his childhood friend stormed over to Sydney and Broots and the trio disappeared into the building. He could have sworn that he saw her throw an apologetic look in his direction.

Jarod swallowed nervously as the van door was opened and he was released from the chains tethering him to the van floor. He quickly scooted forward, not allowing the sweepers much of a chance to escort him out, but their bruising grip found its way to him regardless.

Upon contacting the ground, Jarod felt himself sway dizzily, the vice like grip of the sweepers around him suspiciously failing, as he fell onto his knees, landing with a grunt. To his surprise, he felt a heavy weight bear down on his shoulders, indicating he was to stay down.

Jarod instantly met Lyle's eyes as the man approached him, a black hood in his hands. Jarod could of rolled his eyes, it was a cheap shot, but admittedly effective.

Lyle grabbed the pretenders hair roughly. "If it had been up to me, you would have had this on since we reacquired you at the hospital." He growled as he slipped the black cloth over the pretenders head.

Jarod inhaled sharply, in his weakened state he could barely fight off the overwhelming flashbacks from his childhood. He knew Lyle just wanted to keep him disoriented as to his location in the building, as to impede any further escape. A pointless move really, considering Jarod had designed the complex himself, but of course the twin had failed to inform himself with the basic background research.

"Let's go boys." Lyle commanded. Jarod was given a harsh shove forward, resulting in him face-planting himself into the pavement. He took a sharp breath in, suppressing the groan the threatened to escape, and bit back a series of expletives that would have certainly further provoked the sweepers, although Jarod was certain he wouldn't have to say anything these days to earn himself special attention from his guards.

He was roughly yanked onto his feet, and with a harsh shove, was guided into the awaiting building. It was a heavy price to pay for just eating a cookie.

Corporation Zero Headquarters – Maximum Security Wing

Lys was carried roughly into the grey room, the guards obviously not amused with her brief game of cat and mouse up the staircase. After they had caught up with her, the taller of the two men had slammed Lys to the ground, and tightly entrapped her wrists behind her back with a pair of handcuffs. He had then hoisted her slender form over his shoulder, carrying her in a rendition of the fireman carry.

The guard dropped Lys to the ground where she landed in an unceremonious thud. She bit her tongue, desperate to contain the cry of pain that threatened to escape upon impact.

Lys rolled over onto her back, quick to scope her new surroundings. She was greeted by Alex, and a group of eight guards.

"I hear you tried to run." Alex smirked. "Bit desperate are we?"

Lysander refused to dignify him with a response. Alex nodded to the two guards to the left of him, and they hoisted Lysander back to her feet, and pressed her firmly against the wall – face first.

Lys sighed inwardly with relief when she felt the painful hold of the handcuffs relieved from her throbbing wrists. However she soon realized her relief was premature, when her arms were quickly restrained in a spread-eagle like fashion to awaiting manacles attached to the wall. The guards stepped backed, leaving Lys trapped, her face pressed against the cold steel wall.

Lysander was well aware of her breathing rate increasing as she felt a presence behind her, most likely Alex, at an uncomfortably close distance. She flinched as she felt a sharp blade pressed against her cheek.

"I would offer you a last chance to reconsider, but who I am to deny my men a bit of fun whilst ensuring your complete and utter loyalty." Alex whispered into her ear threateningly.

Lys sucked in a breath as the knife was traced lightly behind her ear.

"Not so gallant are we now?" Alex stated, removing the blade. He moved to her back, and slipped the blade under her orange coloured scrub-like Conglomerate issued clothing. Lys felt herself shiver in fearful anticipation when the blade reached her neck, and Alex's muscles tensed noticeably.

Lys jumped as Alex yanked the knife backwards, her clothing ripping off her slender form in a smooth motion. He repeated the procedure until Lys entire Conglomerate uniform lay as a

small heap at her feet.

Lys pressed her forehead desperately into the wall that held her captive, as she felt her arms being lifted out of their bonds by the two awaiting guards. Her hands were once again secured behind her back.

Lys remained pressed against the wall, desperate to maintain some semblance of privacy. Alex of course had other ideas. He grabbed her long blond hair and painfully yanked her away from the wall. Lys fell backwards and landed unceremoniously at his feet.

"I'll be back for you later." He stated, his menacing glare reflecting in her soft blue eyes, kicking her in the direction of the awaiting guards.

Lys curled herself into the fetal position as she felt the guards surround her, tears forming in her eyes.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES, NORTHERN UTAH

Jarod lay motionless on the lumpy cot. His second night back in Centre custody had been just as pleasant as his first one spent shivering in a concrete cell.

Sighing loudly, Jarod tugged at the restraints that encircled his hands, and glanced at the IV that was dripping drugs into his body. He had Sydney to thank for his night spent tethered up like a mental patient.

Jarod has been brought to this small room immediately from the parking lot. Other than a small bed, and a desk, the room was sparse and just as inviting as every other Centre room. Nothing like home sweet home.

Sydney had finally been given permission to give Jarod a proper medical examination. Upon seeing his protégé's temperature, and low blood pressure, Sydney had immediately requested an IV. Jarod had immediately protested, years at the wrong end of the Centre's needles had made him justifiably wary. The last thing Jarod needed was a Center developed drug in his system to hinder his awareness. Escape was essential, and Jarod needed to be on the top of his game.

Sydney had called in Miss Parker, when all reason had failed to gain the cooperation of the pretender, and within minutes Jarod had found himself flat on his back, all limbs restrained and the IV dripping in his arm, surrounded by six unimpressed sweepers. As Jarod had been so fearful off, a sedative had been mixed in, and he was out cold before you could count to ten.

Rationally Jarod knew that Sydney was only doing what was best for him. Undoubtedly, sleep wouldn't have visited Jarod last night, if not for the drug induced slumber. Sydney knew him to well. Jarod also realized his fever had started to subside, and his chills were lessening. Recovery was imperative, if he was to have a chance of escaping their custody - but not this way. The Florence Nightingale guide to Nursing definitely did not list forced medication and full restraint in its guide to healing.

The door to his cell squeaked open, and Sam entered the room, followed by an unimpressed Miss Parker. Sam was sporting a black eye from the previous night's effort to restrain Jarod.

"Shower time Jarod. I don't want to see any of last night's theatrics."

"What Sam doesn't want any cosmetic work done on his other eye?" Jarod replied sarcastically, glaring at his huntress.

Parker rolled her eyes, and assisted her sweeper in unlocking Jarod from his cot. Not given a chance to react, Jarod was hauled on his feet, and hands promptly restrained in front of him.

"I mean it Jarod. No theatrics." Parker threatened.

Jarod allowed himself to be guided down the hall and into a small showerblock and rest room. Two other sweepers falling in line behind him as he left his cell.

"You have ten minutes." Parker announced cattily before leaving him in the care of the sweepers.

Jarod surveyed the shower block, hesitating at the lack of privacy. He sensed Sam's presence as the sweeper unlocked his restraints. "Get moving labrat." The sweeper snarled.

Jarod sighed inwardly as he quickly stripped, and stepped into the stream of cold water, keeping his back to the sweepers at all time. His head was pounding, and the cold water instigated a wave of nausea, forcing Jarod to rest his forehead against the tiles until Sam’s threat forced him to upright himself.

When finished, Jarod turned around conscious of his nakedness, and gratefully spotted a towel and fresh pair of clothes. He quickly toweled off, and slipped into the drab black clothing.

"Hands on your head." Sam barked the instant the pretender had slipped his shirt over his head, and Jarod quickly complied. Two of the other sweepers quickly approached, and Jarod soon found himself under the familiar restraint of the handcuffs.

With a violent shove, Jarod was escorted back out in the hallway, where he was surprised to find Parker waiting for him. He kept silent, not wishing to provoke her after been given a shred of dignity back with a shower. His last stay under Lyle's tenure had not included such creature comforts, until his own odour had become unbearable for his keepers.

As he was led unceremoniously back to 'his room', Jarod turned around to face his entourage.

"On the bed Jarod." Parker demanded. Jarod widened his eyes. He was not spending another hour restrained like a crazy mental patient.

"No more drugs." He threatened.

"Who said anything about drugs?" Parker raised her eyebrow, equaling his menacing tone. "Now lie down on the damn bed."

Jarod took a step away from the bed defiantly. Sam immediately stepped into intervene, but Parker stopped him.

"I'm not as cocky as my idiot brother, and you are not escaping on my watch. If I want you lying safely on the bed, then that is where you'll end up. This way I can assure Freud that his precious Boy Wonder is happily resting and recovering from his medical ordeal downstairs and the rest of us can be confident that you are not auditioning for a starring role in next season of Prison Break. So two options Jarod, one you get your ass on that bed, or two: I’ll call in the sweepers waiting outside.  

Jarod was livid. Parker was a woman of paradoxes. Last night she had shown him kindness with hot tea and blankets and now was forcing him to submit to Centre restraints. "Now Jarod. Last warning." Parker threatened.

"Your mother would be so proud of you Miss Parker." Jarod lashed out, as he took another step backwards. It was a weak shot and he knew it. It was a battle he had no hope to win, but in an environment where everything was so controlled, his rebellion was all he had.

"Sam." Miss Parker said evenly - not breaking eye contact with Jarod. Within seconds the room was filled with sweepers. With his hands still handcuffed behind him, Jarod offered little resistance. He was soon lying prone on his back, a few angry bruises from the sweeper's handiwork forming on his sides. All four limbs carefully restrained.

"Atta-boy Jarod." Parker mocked as a nurse came in, and reattached Jarod's IV line, changing the bag to something which obviously contained drugs to make him sleep. Jarod struggled desperately against his restraints, but it was futile and he knew it.

He turned his head away from the group and waited until he would be carried back into oblivion.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – EXECUTIVE FLOOR

Broots sat numbly at the boardroom table, barely believing what he was hearing from Miss Parker. He felt like he was in some major motion film, like a Star Wars epic, just without the special effects and those kick-ass laser swords. Instead it was just the twisted and bleak reality of life at the Centre.

For the past hour and a half Broots and Sydney, and a handful of people Broots couldn't recognize had listened as the Parker twins had informed them of Corporation Zero and their corporate intent.

At first Broots had underestimated the risk. Afterall this was the United States, a developed nation and big guys with guns couldn't just come in and do away with you without some serious consequences.

Then he had seen the pictures from Lyon, France. The bodies.. the blood. Broots had always known the Centre had extensive international network, but he had never realized just how extensive it was.

Two weeks ago, Corporation Zero had launched a multi-nation attack on various Centre locations around the globe. France, India, China, Peru and Scotland were the worst hit. The target had been priority Centre inmates and anything that got in the way was visciously disposed of. Broots had a hunch that the Blue Cove division had been spared this far only because of Jarod's absence. And now he was here, with them. Broots swallowed nervously at that thought.

Person by person, Corporation Zero was attempting to build an army of geniuses, a room full of Jarod's, to accomplish one task –destroy the Center cornerstone, the Triumvirate headquarters in Africa. It was a new spin on the concept of Corporate Takeover. The Triumvirate controlled a trio of companies, the Centre, the Conglomerate and a small, yet powerful African enterprise known as Zulathon.

Country by country, person by person, Corporation Zero was getting closer to that goal. Broots had just listened to a lively debate between Miss Parker, Lyle and two people from Germany – one of the few European Triumvirate interests that had not been affected by Corporation Zero's raid. Few seemed to believe that their kidnapped labrats would not readily participate in the demise of the Triumvirate. Miss Parker had urged caution, not to underestimate the time that would be necessary for the Centre's inmate's loyalties to be swayed by their new keepers.

Broots allowed his thoughts to shift to the very man that was held three levels below, so desperate to leave. Given the chance, Broots believed Jarod would be a willing participant in the Centre's demise. He'd be giving out information like the Centre handed out Christmas turkey's to its employees in December.

He stared up at the projector screen, taking in the women whose mug shot was flashed before them. She was slight, average height, with gorgeous long blond hair.

Lyle stood at the front of the room. "This is one of priority subjects from the Conglomerate headquarters in New Zealand. She was on her way here, when transport was intercepted by our enemies. Her handler was found dead the scene. It is believed that she has since been transported to their corporate HQ in Texas. It is also believed that two of our subjects from Lyon are also being held at this facility. The priority of this taskforce is to retrieve the female, and the two subjects from France if possible. These individuals are essential to fend off any additional threats from Corporation Zero."

Broots looked around flabbergasted. Since when had he signed up for military ops? He was grateful that Debbie had just left for a two month summer retreat in Paris on a French Language Bursary program.

Lyle continued smugly. "We will begin simulations tomorrow to determine our next course of action."

Sydney flew out of his seat across from Broots upon hearing this. "Lyle I absolutely will not allow it. Jarod needs time to heal. He was almost in a coma from the unnecessary strain you placed upon him pulling him out of the hospital prematurely."

"Sit down Syd." Broots heard the menacing tone of Miss Parker behind him.

Lyle continued. "I think Boy Wonder's problems have more to do with his constant defiance then a little allergic reaction. The mommying stops tomorrow morning. He will in the lab ready to work, or I will have to use my powers of persuasion to convince him otherwise."

One of the nameless German men questioned sharply from across the table. "Does the subject's cooperation not lie with the Centre?"

Broots rolled his eyes. Jarod had been out of the Centre's grasp for over six years, save a few weeks. Where did they think his loyalties were?

"Gentleman, I assure you after a few adolescent temper tantrums are dealt with, we will have a fully co-operative pretender." Lyle smirked.

"Don't be cocky Lyle, it doesn't suit you. Gentleman, the only way we will get Jarod's immediate co-operation is to somehow appeal to his sense of humanity. It's going to take a lot more then a couple sweepers with oversized biceps and a few zolts of electricity. Jarod is much stronger than that."

With that Miss Parker stormed from the room, concluding what was officially the worst meeting of Broots's life. Save that T-Board a few years back.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – EXECUTIVE FLOOR OFFICES

Parker strode into Lyle's temporary office at Aquastar. "You cannot make false promises like that Lyle. You know as well as I do that Jarod isn't going to be a willing participant in this."

"Save your rant Parker. I asked you here to discuss the arrival of our new guest." Lyle said smugly.

"Our German subject has arrived?" Parker questioned, taking a seat. Unbeknown to Syd and Broots, the German division was flying a pretender with some empathic abilities. His exact skill set was unknown to  at least Parker, and she had a feeling by Lyle's interest, he was being kept in the dark as well.

Lyle shook his head. "We are postponing their arrival until later this evening. It's essential that Jarod not be aware of his presence. They'll be staying the low security wing the floor above Jarod’s. According to the handler, the subject wouldn't walk out the door if it was left open right in front of them. Now that's Centre training if you ask me. Someone should really see about getting Jarod enrolled in a program like that."

Parker glared at her twin. "Sydney will remain in the dark to ensure this information doesn't reach Jarod. I'll arrange for additional security from the second floor. You may wish to underestimate our German friends, but if my experience has taught me anything, you don't underestimate a pretender."

Lyle simply shrugged nonchalantly.

Parker continued on. "Sydney has just completed his check-up on Jarod. Besides a few protests to his current accommodation, he has reluctantly agreed that Jarod is strong enough for a light sim tomorrow. He emphasized the word light. "

Lyle met Parker's gaze. "Tomorrow the war officially begins."

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – HIGH SECURITY WING

THE FOLLOWING DAY

Jarod's morning had started off the same as virtually every other morning he could remember since his life at the Centre had begun. He had been awoken at some ungodly hour in the morning, and escorted to the showers. Ten minutes was all he was allotted to shower, shave and attend to his other needs. Upon exiting his shower, a fresh set of Centre issued garments were waiting for him.

Jarod was then escorted back to his room, where a great breakfast of green mush and tomato juice was waiting for him. Jarod knew he should eat, the rumbling in his stomach told him it had been sometime since he had gone with non-intravenous nourishment, but his stomach retched at the thought. He wasn't sure if it was the still present flu symptoms or his stomach's plea for real food. He quickly dismissed the idea of eating breakfast, and instead opted to sink into a corner in the small room, furthest away from the ever present camera.

Sighing loudly, Jarod leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. His body was still feeling the effect of his raging fever, and his head was pounding with an unforgiving headache. He hated feeling weak in his current situation. Weakness was not conducive to escape.

At least the guards this morning had seemed to misplace their handcuffs. Jarod could not recall a time where he had been so heavily restrained, even upon his last return to the Centre. It was just more evidence pointing towards the Centre's desperation.

Life had been much simpler when he was a child. At first all it would take was Sydney's raised voice to send Jarod cowering into the corner, pleading for forgiveness. As he got older, the discipline got increasingly harsher, starting with nasty backhands from overeager sweepers to some late sessions with then Dr. Raines that Jarod preferred to not think about. During his teens he was often sent to an isolation cell for in extreme cases - days on end. A few hours of sitting in the dark, in a room so small a child couldn't lie flat was enough to send most people on the path of righteousness as far as the Centre was concerned. Thankfully he had outgrown that, in some ways it would still be an effective punishment, a fact he would never confess to his keepers. Jarod was certain that his memory gaps, such as the heart-stopping incident that had recently surfaced with Lyle as the key player, coincided directly with when he began to refuse doing certain high profile simulations. Then there was the murder of Kenny, and Lyle and his jumper cables. Anything they could do to keep him in line and somewhat manageable. As much as he hated to admit it, Jarod was apprehensive about what Lyle might subject him to, to regain his co-operation given their current desperation.

Jarod was jerked back to reality with the sound of the electronic lock of his cell disengaging. Sydney stepped in followed by Sam, the handcuffs glimmering in the sweepers hands. "Showtime." Jarod muttered under his breath. He remained huddled in his corner of the room, refusing to make eye contact with his visitors.

"Jarod." Sydney scolded. The pretenders eyes shot up to meet the gaze of his mentor. He hadn't heard that tone from Sydney in quite sometime. Jarod had heard it many times as he was removed from his stints in the isolation cells. With a huff of irritation, Jarod pushed himself to his feet, crossing his arms in front of him defiantly.

Sydney maintained steady eye contact with his protégé. "Miss Parker has requested your presence in the sim lab Jarod."

"Tell her thanks, but I think I'll decline this invitation." Jarod remarked as he made his way to the bed. He felt Sam move quickly inline behind him, only to be stopped by a gesture from Sydney.

"How are you feeling Jarod? Has your fever subsided?" Sydney questioned, tactfully changing the subject, moving towards where the pretender now sat on the bed.

Jarod opened his mouth to respond, but a thermometer was quickly placed in it before the words could leave him. "Why engage in battles that you have no hope of success Jarod?" His mentor said quietly. Jarod's eyes fell to the floor, knowing his mentor was referring to his pointless resistance to the sweepers. He often wondered that himself, but he couldn’t allow them to make it easier for themselves.

The beeping of the thermometer ended the awkward silence that had fallen in the room. Jarod saw Sydney's brow furrow in concern. He didn't need to ask to know his fever was still high. Sydney placed his hand around Jarod's arm and motioned for the pretender to stand. "For what it's worth Jarod, I tried to get you a few extra days rest, but the Center -, I -, we-, we really need your help."

With a nod of understanding towards his mentor, Jarod pushed himself to a standing position, and watched wearily as Sam approached him from across the room.

"Turn around." The sweeper said evenly, his eyes daring Jarod to defy. He had a few favours to return to the pretender in thanks for his black eye from the other night, not to mention some well overdue retribution for the pretenders escape off the airplane which had been very embarrassing for Sam.

Looking back at Sydney and getting a pleading nod in return, Jarod reluctantly turned around, and allowed the sweeper to handcuff his hands behind his back. As Jarod was led out of the room, he was flanked on his other side by another sweeper.

"That wasn't so hard now was it Jarod." Sam mocked as he guided the pretender down the hall.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – LOW SECURITY RESIDENTAL WING

Henrik sat motionless at the table, starring curiously at the video screens in front of him. He had been dumped in this small room for at least an hour. No explanation, not a person in sight, other then the lone sweeper he knew stood guard outside the door.

Henrik had to fight back the yawn that was trying to force its way to the surface. It had been an exhausting two weeks for the young pretender, ever since the terrifying late night attacks by Corporation Zero.

Henrik was eternally grateful that his German facility had been spared in the targeted attacks. He had been forced to view the terrible photos from Lyon, and was desperately worried about his childhood acquaintances who were currently missing from the Lyon facility and believed to be held by Corporation Zero.

Immediately after word had reached Germany, the facility had been placed under lockdown, meaning Henrik had been removed from his comfortable quarters and placed in small isolation cells at the deepest depths of the building. For one week Henrik had spent his time starring at the empty grey walls of his small prison, until he was informed that he was to be transferred to North America to aid in the recovery of his childhood friends and other 'sensitive cargo'. It had been a long and lonely journey for Henrik, he had spent most of his time waiting idly in the back of cargo vans, or in the dark and unforgiving holding cells of Centre safehouses - a dramatic change from his comfortable room back at the Centre facility in Germany, which was shared with three other pretenders like himself. A journey that normally would have taken fifteen hours was spaced out for six days, but they had made it - safely.

Dr. Klaus had been waiting when Henrik’s van had arrived. Henrik had been quickly and gently ushered into the building and was quickly led to a small bedroom, and without explanation was left for the evening. His room was bland, just a small bed, desk, and chair and table with a small bathroom off to one side. Boredom and loneliness had quickly taken over. Henrik was nearly twenty-two, and he had spent the last ten years of his life sharing space with his three other roommates. His isolation from companionship was taking its toll.

After what had seemed liked hours, Henrik was able to drift to sleep. He had awoken when a nameless sweeper had brought his breakfast. After gulping that down, and indulging in his first shower in over a week, Henrik had been escorted to this room. He recognized it's form and function as a sim lab, but was curious as to the video surveillance monitors that had obviously been hastily sat up at the table he now occupied.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – HIGH SECURITY WING SIM LAB

Jarod stared mutely at the ground, feigning disinterest in his surroundings. Although he was the guest of honor for this little charade, in true Centre fashion they were making him wait for their presence, stew in his own anticipation. By his calculation he had been sitting here nearly half an hour, and the not so subtle fidgeting of the two sweepers standing guard a few meters behind him, seemed to confirm this.

As if on cue, Jarod heard the electronic lock of the sim lab door disengage, and the unmistakable click of what could only be Parker's stiletto heels enter the room. Jarod rubbed his eyes and tugged lightly at the chain that bound his left hand to the heavy metal table he sat at, waiting for his guests to enter into his field of vision.

Jarod had to forcefully keep himself from smiling when he got sight of the bumbling tech that had scrambled in behind Parker. Broots was carrying an armload of file folders, and had an expression of pure terror on his face. The tech was flanked by a concerned looking Sydney, Sam and the ever-smug Mr. Lyle. Jarod almost had to roll his eyes at the over-confidence Mr. Lyle was emanating. A tall, older, and very distinguished gentleman followed Mr. Lyle, and Jarod was immediately conscious of the man's intense eyes sizing him up.

Jarod met Miss Parker's gaze from across the table. Only Broots, who had clumsily dumped his load of files on the table sat down. He could feel Sydney's presence just behind him, forever Jarod's keeper and quasi-protector, while Sam took up the enforcer's position to the right of him. The other gentleman stood off to the left side, but his gaze was too intently focused on Jarod's form.

"I'm not going to help you." Jarod stated evenly, not breaking his heated gaze with Miss Parker.

"Tired words Jarod. At least hear us out." Parker snapped, she too locking eyes with Jared.

"I have no interest in anything you people have to say to me. I refuse to be a pawn in your games again." Jarod returned evenly.

Parker's eyes narrowed, but calmly continued. "Jarod, the Centre is being threatened. An outside corporation is trying to add Triumvirate holdings into its own personal stock portfolio."

"Then let them. The demise of the Centre is something I've been dreaming about since I was a little boy." Jarod shot back.

Parker slammed her fist into the table, causing all male occupants of the room to jump, except for the one she was trying intimidate. She had not expected Jarod to quickly dismiss the threat. "Dammit Jarod. I – …" Parker was silenced by Lyle.

"Jarod we've been through this dance before. Do we need to repeat the whole torture – thing. As much fun as I will have, we all know what the outcome will be." As soon as Lyle had emitted the word torture, Jarod felt Sydney's hand on his shoulder.

"You have no leverage this time Lyle. No family members, no time for three week drug binges.

Don't fool yourself." Jarod retorted.

"Jarod. I am simply asking you to open the files and take a look. I am positive that when you see the contents of the file you will experience a rather sudden change of heart. Save the false male bravado, and open the damn files."

Jarod shook his head furiously. "What is it that you people can't understand. I am not simming a damn thing for you ever again. You stole everything from me, my life, my family, and as far as I am concerned, the Center can die. From my perspective a cell is a cell, it doesn't matter to me if it's yours or Corporation Zero's. I can only hope that they are half as incompetent as you all appear to be."

Lyle snorted. "Big words from a man being kept in shorter chains than a dog."

"Cut the crap Jarod." Parker chipped in return, ignoring her twin. "I am so sick of your whiny I had bad childhood routine. You are not the only person in the room who grew up without a mother. The Center dies and all your secrets die along with it."

Jarod shrugged. "Along with yours Miss Parker."

"Last chance Jarod. Start reading the files or I'm sending you on your way with Lyle and Sam." Parker threatened, disbelief at herself as the words actually left her mouth. This was not how she had meant to play it, but Jarod could just be so damn infuriating sometimes.

Jarod turned away, finally break eye contact with his huntress and sighed. His relationship with Parker had evolved slowly over the years, but he hadn’t heard that tone of voice from her since just after he had escape the Centre. He yanked in frustration at the chain the held him captive to the table. Behind him Sydney was adamantly protesting his going anywhere, citing Jarod's questionable health.

After composing himself, Jarod turned back to Miss Parker and cocked his head, "Do you think Corporation Zero had a good benefits package, Miss Parker?" Jarod asked playfully knowing it would only further anger her. "Maybe you could inquire for me, before I make my final decision. Make sure you get full details about dental, that is where they tend to screw you."

Broots sprung to his feet. "NO!" He said forcefully, to the surprise of all of the room's occupants, including himself. Digging for a file, Broots scurried frantically over to Jarod, throwing pictures in front of the uncooperative pretender.

"Look Jarod. Look what these people did. These are from Lyon, but these files contain hundreds more like this from India, China, Peru and Scotland. Hundreds of children have lost their parents, their families. Do you want Debbie to see this happen to her father? The Centre isn't full of saints by any means, but no one deserves to die like this Jarod, no one!”

After studying the photos, Jarod met Miss Parker's gaze, a horrified expression dominating his features as he spoke, barely louder than a whisper. "I didn't know. I didn't' know it was like this. I-"

"That is why I told you to open the damn file genius." Parker snarled back, still irritated by their earlier exchange.

Jarod looked pleadingly at Parker. "Give me an hour or two to look this over and I'll…." his voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"You'll what Jarod." Parker pushed.

"I'll…see what I can do." The pretender whispered as he broke eye contact with Parker, as if in disbelief he was actually agreeing to help them.

"Good enough Jarod." Parker stated as she snapped her finger at Broots. "Broots – lets go organize the rest of the information for Jarod, and Sydney, I want you upstairs with me now to work out a suitable schedule for Jarod. I don't want him slipping into a coma from exhaustion."

Jarod remained silent as the trio left the room, ignoring the quick shoulder squeeze the psychiatrist gave him on his way out. He noticed Lyle in deep conversation with the strange man, who had what Jarod assumed to be a German accent.

"Well Jarod, it appears that it is just us boys now." Lyle smirked. "I think we need to have a little talk about your manners." Jarod ignored him, instead opening one of the files that Broots had left within arms reach, until he felt Sam's presence behind him. "Get up." The sweeper ordered.

"Not now Sam. I'm busy." Jarod stated, feigning a tone of annoyance while wondering what it was exactly Lyle wanted with him – not that he didn't already have an idea, and it didn't bode well for him himself.

Before he knew it his chair had been pulled out from under him and he was roughly face-planted into the table. The chain that kept him captive to the table, now replaced with handcuffs. Jarod submissively ending his struggles, he had learned in his last stay at the Center, if Lyle wanted to play, there was little, if anything Jarod could do to stop him. "What do you want Lyle?"

"We're just going to go for a small walk Jarod. We need to make sure you are understand the penalty you will pay for being less than cooperative. Sam – let's go."

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – LOW SECURITY RESIDENTAL WING

"Who was that man, Dr. Klaus?" Henrik questioned his long time teacher.

About ten minutes prior, Henrik had been treated to a live show from the sim lab below him. A sweeper had come in with instructions from Dr. Klaus saying that Henrik was to watch the live feed, and pay close attention to a Centre subject called Jarod.

"Jarod is a pretender Henrik. He's been with the Centre since he was a very young child."

"He shows so little respect for his teachers, why is that Sir?" Henrik questioned.

"Jarod has been tainted by the outside world and was just recently reacquired. His behaviour is not tolerated and he will be immediately transferred to Africa when Corporation Zero has been taken care of." Klaus replied, hiding his smile when his subject's eyes widened with fear at the mention of Africa. The European branches of the Centre had low tolerance for disobedience and it was easily reflected in the pristine behaviour of their subjects.

"And what am I to do with Jarod, Sir?"

"You will be overseeing his simulations Henrik. Jarod is a very valuable pretender with talent and abilities that far surpass that of anyone at our own facility, including your own. However he is not to be trusted. You will be observing his simulations and assure us that he is not manipulating data or misleading us in anyway." Klaus told his young protégé.

"When shall I meet him?" Henrik questioned. He was eager to meet another pretender, after being in near isolation for the last month.

"You don't." Klaus barked. "Jarod is not to know of your existence. He cannot know that we are verifying his work. I have brought you some files to read about Corporation Zero and Jarod. It is imperative that we start planning the raids to free our two subjects from Lyon that are being held by them." With that Klaus left the room.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – HIGH SECURITY WING

Sydney stormed down the hallway, eyeing the two sweepers stationed outside Jarod's door.

"Open the door." He commanded.

"Doctor, Mr. Lyle has ordered that pretender shall be isolated for the morning. He is to have no visitors –especially not you. He will be returned to the lab after lunch." The shorter of the two sweepers responded professionally.

Sydney had to suppress his anger. "Jarod is my project, I am not to be denied access to him."

The larger of the sweepers, a tall threatening-looking black man stood up to Sydney. "If you have a problem, you will have to speak to Mr. Lyle, Doctor."

"Let him in." A menacing female voice said from behind the group. Sydney couldn't help but smile in relief as he turned to face Miss Parker.

"But Mr. Lyle said…" The black sweeper mumbled.

Parker glared at him. "I don't care what my idiot brother said, open the damn door."

The sweeper immediately cowered under Miss Parker's classic ice queen glare and turned and punched in the access code to Jarod's room. Sydney felt a swell of pride for the powerful young woman in front of him. If anyone could get them through this crisis safely it would be her...correction her and Jarod.

The sweeper held the door open and motioned Sydney inside. To his surprise, he felt Miss Parker's hand on his shoulder. Sydney turned to face the woman behind him, noticing a distinct softness that had been absent on her features since this ordeal had started. He was being to worry that she had regressed to her old ways.

"My god – Jarod." Sydney muttered under his breath when he laid eyes on his protégé. He heard Miss Parker gasp quietly behind him.

Jarod was lying on the bed, his hands were restrained above his head, and angry, red cuts were visible from beneath the bracelets of the ever present restraints encircling his wrists. He was bare-chested, exposing the angry red burn marks from what Sydney could only assume was from Lyle's jumper cables. Deep purple bruises were forming down his chest, and a large welt was visible on his left cheek. Jarod's breath was laboured and his eyes were winced shut in what Sydney could only assume was pain. The presence of fever was obvious due to the thin film of sweat that coated the pretender's body.

"Come to escort me to round two Miss Parker?" Jarod questioned, surprising Sydney with his lucidity. Jarod's resilient nature never ceased to amaze Sydney.

Sydney turned to Parker behind him, motioning her to remain silent. Jarod and Parker shared a unique relationship to say the least. In the few times that Sydney had been privy to witness their exchanges in the last few years, the undertone of tension between the two had been clairvoyantly obvious.

"Jarod, is there anything I can do?" Sydney asked weakly as he sat gingerly on the bed beside the pretender. He was at a loss for words, not easily done to a psychologist. Since Jarod's escape he had finally awaken to the physical torture the pretender had been exposed to at the Centre. The antagonists were always careful that Sydney was not around to witness the worse of what was being done to his subject. Sydney realized he had been naive to think that the worst of Jarod's exposure to Centre discipline was a few stints in the isolation cells and the occasional slap from an overexcited sweeper. Seeing Jarod, bruised and beaten, was the first time Sydney had seen the aftermath in real time. Anger was all he felt, anger at the situation, at Lyle, for his own stupidity and the abuse of the precious genius of the man who lay before him.

Jarod's deep brown eyes met Sydney's concerned gaze. "I didn't realize how.. how bad things were. When I deduced corporate take-over I thought Corporation Zero was playing games on the stock market. It wouldn't take much for the Triumvirate assets to be quashed, and force them into some deal making. Any half-wit could have dreamed up a viable scheme. But Sydney, I never envisioned anything like this. This is about something much more than stocks, bonds and real-estate. It's personal to someone."

Sydney nodded, not missing the fact that the pretender had changed the subject away from his own personal well being.

Parker interjected. "Jarod for what it's worth, I would not have you alone with Lyle if I knew what he had planned."

"Funny Parker, a few hours ago you were ready to send me right to Lyle's room of fun." The pretender shot back bitterly, his gaze shifted to the wall, straining his arms against the tight restraints tethered above his head.

“I am sorry Jarod.” Parker finally admitted after a long silence. “This is not how I meant to play things.”

Jarod pursed his lips, carefully choosing his words. “We have a way of bringing out the worst in each other, don’t we Miss Parker.”

The two shared an intense look, before Parker broke eye contact, not willing to reply to Jarod’s words.  

Parker walked over to the door and called for a sweeper to come in, obviously noting the pretender's discomfort. "Release him, and find him a shirt." She commanded when the two sweepers appeared in the doorway.

Sydney watched as Jared stared down the sweeper that entered to release him. As the handcuffs fell from Jarod’s wrist,  Sydney helped his protégé sit up and rest against the wall. He immediately moved to check Jarod’s pulse, while feeling his forehead for an indication of how bad his fever was.

"You can do the Nanny routine in the Simlab Sydney.. Boy Wonder has a lot of files to go through." Parker announced impatiently, moving towards the door.

"Parker, Jarod needs rest. His fever is terribly high, much worse then earlier this morning. I don't want him exerting himself, not yet."

Jarod shakily got himself to his feet, gently pushing away from his mentor. "There's no time Sydney. If we are going to beat them, we will have to act soon." Sydney sighed in frustration.

Years of Centre conditioning had taught Jarod to ignore the inherent physical limitations of his body. Minimal sleep, minimal food and maximum exertion, Sydney wondered how long his protégé could go on in his current state without having a physical collapse.

The pretender shakily made his way to Parker and the awaiting sweeper, who held out a shirt that the pretender gratefully accepted. He pulled it over his head and turned to face Parker, who was blocking the door.

“Is there something else?” He asked tiredly.

"Hands Jarod." Parker demanded.

"We just went through this, I said I was cooperating." Jarod scowled, his hands firmly planted at his sides.

Parker scoffed. "If I have learned anything, it is that men will say pretty much anything to get what they want. I will not ask you again Jarod – hands."

The pretender glared at her as he allowed the sweeper to restrain him without resistance.

“Happy now, Miss Parker?” He asked.

Sydney was relieved that Miss Parker ignored the pretender, instead directing the two sweepers to escort the pretender back to the laboratory.

“Syd, I want you to keep a close eye on him. He is not to go anywhere near a computer is that understood? I’ll send Broots down to support Jarod.”

Sydney considered that statement. “Jarod is not going to like that Miss Parker.”

“This isn’t a five star hotel Syd. Wonder boy will have to man it up like the rest of us.”

With that, Sydney was left standing alone in the hallway. He had a feeling it was going to be a long afternoon.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – HIGH SECURITY WING

THREE WEEKS LATER

Sydney leaned against the wall of the simlab, watching his protégé working away with Broots. It has been a long three weeks of constant struggles keeping Jarod on track and focused, but the group were making progress.

The direct goals of Jarod's work were two-fold, one was to predict and thwart off any future threat from Corporation Zero, and the second was to devise a rescue plan for the three valuable subjects being held by the rival organization. They were receiving satellite support from Europe and New Zealand, but simply put, Jarod was the best, and the Blue Cove outfit were in charge of coordinating the efforts..

Sydney had fought quite hard with both Parker and Lyle, as well as Jarod for that matter to ensure the pretender got adequate rest in the few two weeks to fully recover from his allergic reaction, and ensuing illness. He had restricted the pretender to 10 hours of work a day, and had forbidden any work material in the pretenders room after he was returned from the simlab. It had taken almost two weeks, along with a strong round of antibiotics to help Jarod fight off the secondary infections, but the pretender had slowly regained his strength. He still carried a deep cough, but other then that, Sydney had given him a clean bill of health.

Jarod’s schedule had fallen into a rigid routine. Parker and Lyle forbad Jarod to step a foot out of his cell if they were not present, not trusting that Jarod wasn’t constantly looking for that perfect moment to run. Aquastar lacked the deep bowel like structure of the Center, and hence Jarod only had to make it a few floors up to make it to the outside. Sydney supposed it was a justifiable paranoia, especially given how much it seemed the entire fate of the Triumvirate rested on Jarod's shoulders.

Parker usually made it to the simlab for seven in the morning, and stayed with Jarod until late afternoon, when Lyle would take over. Parker insisted that Sydney be present whenever she was, and although the shrink tried desperately, he simply could not stay with his protégé at all hours when Lyle was present – his aging body pushed to exhaustion. Sydney's guilt was further amplified when he would spot new bruises on the pretender in the morning.

Sydney was somewhat in awe at the change in his prodigy since his absence from the Center. As many of the long-term center residents, Jarod had previously carried a very submissive and obedient demeanor.

The pretender now held an air of confidence and self-assurance that Sydney had never seen in him before. Instead of sitting back and relying on Sydney to direct the flow of activity in the sim-lab, Jarod confidently had taken the helm, and easily barked directions at those assigned to help him – usually Broots.

Sydney sometimes felt himself wondering if his presence was even necessary – if not only to act as Jarod's protector or mediator. Jarod was often provoking the sweepers, especially since they were under strict orders by Miss Parker to keep the physical abuse to a minimum – and he knew it.

Sydney had often found himself chuckling when Miss Parker and Jarod squared off in the simlab, and if he didn't know better, which at times he did, he would swear that the two of them enjoyed bickering.

The two were squaring off again today, this time over a tired argument of Jarod's computer access. However the shrink was becoming concerned, noticing an unsatisfiable restlessness seemed to be with the pretender today.

Jarod had been moody and fidgety all morning, and unfortunately poor Mr. Broots had been the main victim of the pretender’s barbs, not that it lit a candle to the day to day verbal assault that Parker had subjected the poor tech too over the past years.

Jarod was only allowed a stand alone laptop, to which to keep track of his own documents and calculations. Any internet searching was done with the frustrated pretender barking order at poor Broots, who could never quite seem to keep up with Jarod's requests for information.

By Parker's orders, no paper clips, pens or similar items were allowed in the lab, anything that Jarod could use to stage an escape. The entire work group was restricted to using school like HB pencils, which were too weak to spring Houdini-like pretenders.

Jarod had been pacing like a caged animal for the last half and hour behind Broots’ workstation, barking requests to the poor tech, while making his unhappiness over the current situation quite clear with Parker. Everyone's patience in the room was starting to wear thin – and Sydney could tell that Parker was quickly losing patience.

Dr. Klaus had given some troubling updates with his new files he had delivered to the lab this morning. Apparently the inside sources to Corporation Zero were indicating that they were nearly done 'collecting' information from the missing center subjects and were preparing to launch another attack, either to further weaken the European branches, or attempt to take out the Center. This information had seemed to add fire to the already fidgety pretender.

"This is ridiculous Parker. What do you think I am going to do, email myself an escape plan?"

"Broots is more than capable, we will not have this discussion again Jarod."

Jarod sighed. "It's inefficient Parker. If you would just let me perform my own searches -."

"Jarod, you heard me. Now get back to work." Parker practically snarled, snapping her fingers in the direction of the pretender’s workstation.

In frustration, Jarod knocked his stack of paperwork off the desk where the computer terminals sat, making poor Broots jump a few feet out of his seat, not used to such an outburst from the usually calm-mannered pretender.

Sydney moved over and interrupted Jarod’s pacing, placing a calming palm on the pretender’s chest. He needed to calm this down before Jarod or Miss Parker, or both did something they would both regret. “Calm down Jarod, calm down.”

Jarod looked forlornly at Sydney before turning back to Parker with his arms crossed. “A simple please might work better, Miss Parker.”

"Jarod, I am warning you, get back to work." Parker threatened.

"What Miss Parker? What exactly are you going to do? Are you going to lock me in a room, keep me from seeing the sun? Make me eat the same green mush three times a day?” Jarod growled, conscious of the two sweepers that have moved in behind him.

Jarod knew he was being unreasonable, but his captivity was getting to him, and he had no outlet with which to vent his frustration. The information he had uncovered last night was frightening, and only adding urgency to his need to finish this, to get away from the Centre.

"Give it up Jarod." Parker retorted. "Have you forgotten where you came from? The Center created you. It's about high time you got off your 'oh woe is me' attitude and accepted your place in life, labrat. We are all captive in this building. Suck it up and deal with it."

Jarod intensified his glare at Parker. He had to fight the urge to walk over to her, knowing the sweepers behind him would pounce on him before he made it two steps in her direction. This turn in their arguments were not uncommon, as much as Jarod used Catherine Parker as the mechanism to infuriate Parker, she used his low rating in the corporate totem pole as a way to infuriate him.

Jarod knew he had to get himself back under control, before he did something he really would regret. He settled on ignoring Miss Parker, and resumed his pacing behind the tech.

"Sam– take Jarod over to the table." Parker commanded. There wasn't enough nicotine in the world that could make her tolerate watching Jarod continue his schizophrenic pacing for one moment longer.

Jarod shot his head up at this. "Parker - " he warned.

"You're in no position to be making threats labrat. Everyone in this room is tired of your theatrics this morning. Now be a good boy and get some work done – IN SILENCE."

Jarod shook his head in frustration. He couldn't stomach the thought of spending the rest of his morning tethered like an animal to his workstation. After three weeks of constant supervision, he just wanted to be left alone, he needed some space.

The room sat silent as Sam approached the crazed the pretender. The second he reached out to grab Jarod's arm, the pretender seemed to snap, whipping around and sucker punching the sweeper right in the gut.

Jarod cursed himself at his loss of control – he had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, there was only one way this was going to end, and it didn't spell good news for him. He couldn't help it, hitting Sam was so damn satisfying, the only outlet for the past three weeks of repressed anger. Parker quickly got on the lab phone and called for the brute squad to come in and subdue him.

Past the point of no return, Jarod refused to submit as the 8 angry sweepers burst into the sim lab. He got a few satisfying kicks and punches in until he was overpowered and knocked to the ground, and quickly restrained, his hands handcuffed painfully behind his back.

Parker approached him as he was roughly hauled to his feet.

"Jarod needs a time-out." Parker mocked, her eyes piercing Jarod's, until he let his gaze fall to the floor, admittedly ashamed at his lack of control. "Take him to one of the interrogation rooms."

Jarod remained silent and limp as he was dragged down the hall, and pushed into the elevator, ending up one floor below. He knew this floor well, as it was where Lyle's fun and games took place.

He was pushed into a small, barren cell, no more than 4x6', landing on his knees with a grunt, and quickly left alone.

With his arms still pinned tightly behind his back, and the hopeless rage still flowing through his veins, Jarod had to suppress a moan of frustration. Instead he lay down, turning his back to the security camera above the door, and let the tears of frustrations build-up.

At least here he was alone.

He did have cause for hope – he had found a paperclip in one of the files delivered to the lab this morning. It was carefully stashed in the small of his back, carefully protected by the waistband of his pants. It wasn't much, but all he needed was an opportunity, and he would run.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – EXECUTIVE FLOOR – BOARDROOM

"Talk to me Sydney." Parker commanded, frustrated at the loss of time due to the Jarod's outburst. She had left him to stew in the small interrogation cell for the rest of the day.

"Parker, frankly Jarod is just tired. We've kept him on a very tight leash the past few weeks. Jarod has grown accustomed to being autonomous, and being back under Centre control was always going to be a challenging transition.”

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose, visibly tense. Although her actions with Jarod seemed unnecessarily cruel, she had really just been trying to give the pretender what he seemed to so desperately need, a few hours alone, in a relatively private setting. Jarod had become increasingly more edgy and cranky in the last few weeks, obviously because of his new found captivity and ever present attention on him. She admittedly was experiencing the same side-effects. As a security precaution, no one was allowed to leave the Aquastar complex, except for those employed to keep the 'cleaning service charade' alive.

"What do you suggest I do Syd?"

Sydney paused momentarily. "Parker you know as well as I do, that the second that Jarod can never be a willing Center resident again. I think we all had unrealistic notions in our first few years of the chase that we would one day catch up with him, and he would go back to his sublevel existence, happily simming away, but that Jarod is gone. We can only try to make his existence here more pleasant – but it will be never be enough."

Parker snorted. "I'll send in the maid to fluff up his pillows and leave little chocolates on

them."

Sydney ignored her remark. "He is cooperating Parker. For someone who is going to save our lives, we are treating him rather poorly."

Parker sat in silence. She was exhausted, and her nerves were frayed. They had all unrealistically believed that Jarod would come along, and save them in a matter of days. Three weeks of forced cooperation with her twin, constant struggles with Jarod, and lack of quality scotch were getting to her.

Despite all that, Parker knew the real reason of exhaustion had more to do with her inner turmoil over Jarod. She still was conscious of the lingering sexual tension left over from Carthis, the guilt she felt at the strict restrictions she placed on Jarod, although they were likely hugs and puppies compared to what he would be subjected to when returned to Blue Cove.

If.. if he was returned. She corrected herself internally.

She couldn't help to notice, that deep down, she really hoped Jarod wouldn't be making the return journey with them.

Corporation Zero Headquarters – Maximum Security Wing

Lysander was curled miserably into the fetal position on her cot. She felt like she had been stuck in here, wherever here was, for years. In reality, she realized it was just a few short

weeks. Weeks she would prefer not to remember.

Alex had proven to be a far crueler and creative captor then any of her handlers at Corporation Zero had ever been. She almost got the sense that he could feel her emotions, read her fears and predict what would make her balk.

She had lasted two and a half weeks before she became a willing predictor for Corporation Zero, and life had fallen into the mundane routine that was not unlike her existence in New Zealand.

Only now, her seemingly full purpose in life was to help and draw up stock and battle scenarios for the corporate takeover of the century.

So Liz sat, she read, she calculated, but in the back of her mind, she was really just waiting, waiting for a chance to get out. One would come, one always did. Or at least that is what she kept telling herself. Because without hope, what was there to live for?

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – INTERROGATION ROOM B

Jarod was pulled back to reality as the electronic lock to the cell was deactivated. He tensed, but relaxed as a lone pair of stilettos entered the room. He had managed to fall into a troubled sleep, but the aching in his muscles indicated he would be paying for it physically for the next few days to come. A few hours on cold concrete made his lumpy cot look like a high-end pillow top mattress.

"Back to work now Jarod." Parker stated, bending down and surprisingly helping the pretender to a seated position against the wall.

Jarod choose to remain silent, knowing he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone, and not wanting to instigate another argument with Parker. To his surprise, Parker joined him on floor, stretching her long legs out beside him.

"Jarod, I'm sorry. I know it's been very difficult for you."

Jarod was somewhat taken aback for the rare apology from Parker – no matter how vague it seemed. He didn't really know what she was apologizing for, the hopelessness of their current situation, or her at times, callous behavior towards him. He had a gut feeling that she also didn’t know.

Jarod sighed softly, still not meeting Parker's eyes. He waged an internal battle, wondering if it was time to share his revelation he had made late last night. She deserved to know, as this person was equally significant in their lives.

"Parker.. I know who is behind all of this. I figured it out last night." Jarod stated blankly.

"What do you mean –who-. Since when has this become the work of one mastermind." Parker questioned, her voice edgy.

Jarod continued evenly. "I think you recall me saying from the beginning, that this takeover, has a personal edge to it. Well I know who is orchestrating it behind Corporation Zero's walls."

Parker's eyes widened, as the pretender continued. "I'm sure you will well remember Alex. The sociopath from several years ago?"

"That's impossible Jarod, there is no way he could survived that fall."

The pretender shook his head. "I'm not wrong about this Parker. I've been over it a million times in my head. The methods, the techniques, the little clues that have been left out in the internet, at least the ones that I have been allowed to come across. It's Alex. He must have survived; there is no other explanation for how this is playing out."

Parker ignored yet another one of Jarod's attempts to guilt her into giving him internet access. Three seconds alone with a computer and she had no doubt Jarod would be emailing Major Charles and staging some sort of dad and clone rescue op.

"What do we do Jarod?"

The pretender's features quickly morphed into one of his classic 'gotta grins.'

Nodding her understanding, Parker lifted herself back up to standing level, she would wait until the whole group was assembled to hear what Jarod had to say. Moments later, with the help of two sweepers, Jarod was hoisted onto his feet, unable to push himself up with his hands still restrained behind him.He manoevered himself gentle as not to disrupt the metallic prize he had concealed in his waistband.

"Take Jarod back to his room." She ordered the sweepers, catching the pretenders surprised look, and he had naturally assumed he would be returned back to the lab.

"Relax Jarod, I'm going to organize a meeting for early this evening, so you can update the rest of the group on your new revelations. In the meantime you are to eat your dinner, and I'm sending Sydney down to have a discussion about your behaviour this morning." Parker couldn't help the small smile that snuck onto her features, as she caught Jarod's facial expression. Sydney had been demanding, rather pleading to have some alone time with the pretender, besides the pretender had caused her to endure much psychobabble from the shrink and it was well past the time to reverse the tables.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – LOW SECURITY RESIDENTIAL WING

"He's still hiding something." Henrik stated. His routine had been the same every day, watching every interaction, every significant event in Jarod's tenure at Aquastar, and report if the pretender was being truthful or not. He had just finished reviewing the interaction between Miss Parker and the pretender in the interrogation wing.

'Great Henrik." Mr Lyle stated sarcastically. "You've been telling us for the past week that Jarod is keeping stuff from us, but yet you have yet to discover exactly what IT is and to what significance IT holds."

Dr. Klaus interjected. "Mr. Lyle may I remind you that Henrik is a far less superior pretender compared to Jarod. His assignment is only to advise us when Jarod is being untruthful. You can not fault him for being unable to read the mind of your pretender. It is your organization's fault at raising such an unloyal, disobedient subject. It is your job to find what lies in that head of his – do not take your frustration on my subject."

Lyle shook his head in disagreement. "My sister refuses to allow me to attempt to extract information from Jarod. She does not want to risk Jarod finding out about our arrangement with Henrik."

Dr. Klaus studied Lyle carefully, "Let's see what happens at our meeting tonight. Perhaps the pretender was only harbouring information until he was 100 certain about the outcome."

Lyle snorted. "With all due respect Dr – Jarod is always 100 certain about everything. Whatever he is hiding is for his own benefit, and his own benefit only. He may be cooperating right now, but you can be assured that he has nothing but escape plans doing laps around that genius brain of his."

Lyle's phone started ringing and with a curt nod to Klaus, he dismissed himself from the room.

Klaus turned his attention back to Henrik. It was clear to see the young man detested and was fearful of Lyle's presence. The cloud of anger that surrounded Lyle was obvious to even himself – never mind a borderline empath such as Henrik. He felt a slight remorse toward Jarod, as the pretender seemingly had all of Lyle's tension and bitterness centered upon him. While he didn't doubt for a second that the pretender was well overdue for some Center discipline sessions, Lyle's cruelness was simply unnecessary and unproductive.

Henrik spoke silently. "No matter how much he hurts Jarod, it will never be enough. He has some score to settle, but not matter what he takes, it will never be sufficient."

"Don't preoccupy yourself Henrik." Klaus snapped, softening as his subject flinched at his harsh tone. It was unrealistic to expect an empath to operate on the same moraless, emotionless boundaries the triumvirate required. "Besides, as soon as this is over, the triumvirate has ordered that Jarod directly be transferred to their custody in Africa. He'll be far out of Lyle's reach there."

"And myself?" The young pretender questioned hesitantly.

"If Jarod succeeds in his assignment, there should be no reason why you can't return to your old quarters. All the reason to stay focused on your assignment, my boy."

Henrik nodded in agreement and Klaus couldn't help but notice the look of relief on his face. All he wanted was to be back home, to be back with his friends. His isolation here in the Americas was slowly eating away at him, and he was terrified that he would remain here indefinitely. It was clear that Jarod had been raised in isolation, given very few opportunities to interact with other projects, such as himself. It terrified Henrik to think that he would have to stay here, stay with the Center, and live out the rest of his controlled existence alone.

Henrik stared at Dr. Klaus for a moment, hesitation clear on his features.

"Is there something you want to say Henrik?" The doctor questioned.

Henrik looked at the floor. "He took something from the files this morning Doctor."

"What are you talking about Henrik." Klaus asked tersely.

"I think it was a paperclip. Someone must have accidentally left it in the files that were going down to the lab. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

"Do you have a reason for withholding this information?"

Henrik refused to meet the doctor's eye. He really didn't know himself, he had never kept anything from anyone before. He shook his head miserably.

"Stand up." The doctor commanded.

Henrik didn't hesitate to follow the command, but instantly regretted it as he was met with a wicked backhand from Dr. Klaus, causing him to go flying into the table beside him, landing on the floor with a groan.

"I'm going to pass this information along to Mr. Lyle, and if you are lucky I will not send him back in here to punish you. Careful Henrik, another stunt like this and I may be convinced into shipping you to Africa, right behind Jarod. We aren't done here." The doctor warned as he stormed out of the room.

Henrik stayed curled up in a miserable ball as the doctor left. In a strange way he was beginning to understand how Jarod could have left.

JAROD's ROOM - HIGH SECURITY WING

"Sydney– I don't want to talk about it." Jarod stated firmly, fighting the urge to adolescently roll his eyes. He was impatiently pacing in his cell, he just couldn't shake his feeling of restlessness from earlier in the morning.

"Keeping your emotions bottled up will only result in similar outbursts Jarod". The shrink countered. "Please, just talk to me."

"Talk to you Sydney, or the four cameras?." The pretender countered, sighing heavily before continuing his tirade. "As far as you people are concerned, my feelings are simply an inconvenience." The pretender moved over to his bed, flopping onto his back, and folding his hands under his head, feigning interest in the ceiling – not that he didn't have it's every nook and cranny memorized from his many sleepless hours as he was locked up overnight.

Sydney sighed heavily. Over the past few years, Jarod had become increasingly and more openly bitter about his treatment at the Center, and rightfully so. However his disdain was at the point where it was almost consuming him.

"Just tell me what I can do to make it easier for you Jarod. Anything, and I will do my best."

Jarod remained silent. He knew Sydney was genuinely trying to ease the situation, although he suspected they both knew that what Jarod desired, was simply not obtainable under the strict watch of the Center.

"I'm just so tired Sydney." Jarod admitted absent mindedly. “I….” the pretender started, clearly unable to find words. After a few seconds of silence Jarod finally managed. “There is a lot to miss.”

Sydney gingerly moved over to Jarod's bed, and seated himself near the pretender's feet. "I can imagine, that with everything you've learned, and experienced in the last few years, must make being back here that much more difficult."

Jarod nodded softly, feeling his throat choke up as he thought about his long fought freedom. The feeling of sunshine on his face, playing in the snow, the endless supply of sugary goodness, the human interaction he had come to crave so much. Everyone in here was constantly trying to manipulate him, control him, or study him. He missed just random moments with the special people he had met on his pretends. His heart lurched at the thought of Mrs. Finnegan, the old lady was probably starting to worry that he not returned to Seattle –if only he could contact her in someway, make up some lie, as not to cause her any worry.

Jarod reluctantly allowed his thoughts to turn to his family – they tortured his thoughts enough as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling in his cell every night. He had never felt as alive as when he received that first big hug when first meeting his father. He had last met up with them in early November, but Center pressure had forced them to part ways hastily. Jarod suspected that Corporation Zero had pushed his father, Jay and Emily further underground, as Jay would be a well earned asset for them, never mind the fact his family would make nice collateral for luring Jarod into willing submission.

Their last weekend together had been special, as the four family members had rent a cabin in the mountains and had been treated to an early winter snowfall.

The Major and Emily had taught the two pretenders the concept of snowforts and snowball fights, and needless to say, Jarod and Jay were both instantly hooked.

Angelo had alerted the family to the fact that the Center was beaming into their location. Jarod had no idea how they had figured it out, pining it either on a dumb luck random sighting, or the fact that Broots' finder software was a much larger threat than it had been in the earlier years. Face it, the guy was a computer genius. The Major had been adamant that they run as a family, although he knew as well as Jarod did, that it made much more sense for Jarod to separate from the group. Although the Center had a small team in-charge of finding Jarod's family, in reality their efforts were focused mostly on Jarod. If he ran with his family, all the Center's radar would be searching for them, making it a much more unified and dangerous threat. The Major promised he would make contact with Jarod, as soon as the threat had passed, but the pretender had spent yet another Christmas apart from his family. Fortunately Mrs. Finnegan had kindly welcomed him into her home, before leaving to spend Christmas Day with her grandchildren in the suburbs.

Jarod and the Major had entertained many a discussion about simply disappearing off the Center's radar, but Jarod was adamant about not, fearing that he would lose any hope of finding his mom if his whole family simply were to vanish. They had temporarily agreed to keep up the status quo– but Jarod could feel his father was beginning to give up any real hope of finding Margaret. Jarod had been so agonizingly close on Carthis, but that had been over a year ago, and there simply was no trace of Margaret. Jarod feared that she herself had given up, and she had simply decided herself to disappear without a trace. But as long as he had fight in him, Jarod would never give up the chance to find his mother – and hence he kept running.

Sydney studied Jarod, as the pretender had become oblivious to the psychiatrist's presence, obviously lost somewhere in his own thoughts. However as he became aware of movement down the hallway, Sydney decided it was best to rein-in Jarod from his reverie.

"Jarod." His accented voice soothed, as the pretender jerked himself back to real-time – obviously a bit embarrassed at the fact he had drifted away.

The pretender moved as if to say something, but thought otherwise, as the electronic lock was disengaged. Sydney was terribly disappointed to see Lyle flanked by Sam and three other nameless sweepers – instead of Parker. Lyle never seemed to miss an opportunity to provoke the pretender, and given Jarod's current mood, Sydney was afraid of how the pretender might respond to it.

"Father-son picnic is over boys." Lyle announced.

Sydney stood from Jarod's bed, giving the pretender's should a squeeze as Jarod stood himself up.

"Wall, Jarod." Lyle commanded.

The pretender seemingly hesitated, but slowly moved himself to the wall. He was nervous about Sam's presence, given he had sucker punched the sweeper earlier in the morning. He knew the sweeper would be out for revenge. It might as well be official Center protocol. He swallowed his nervousness away as he gave Lyle a cocky smirk.

"Face it." The twin stated.

Jarod's cocky grin fell from his face, as he gingerly turned around, not wanting to encourage Sam to intervene. He caught Sydney's worried glance as he complied with Lyle's command.

"What's this about Lyle?" He questioned.

"Listen carefully Jarod – I'm only going to ask you this once. Where is it?"

Jarod had a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he suspected Lyle was here about the paperclip. He had safely stored it in his left shoe. How could they have known? Only the Center would get his bent out of shape about a seemingly insignificant item.

"I don't know what you are talking about Lyle." Jarod stated confidently, turning around to meet the twin's glare. "Did you lose your soul on the way to sim-lab?"

Lyle refused to respond to the pretender's provocation. "I said face the wall. You do it, or Sam will do it for you."

Jarod met Lyle's glare, until again complying with his wishes with a nervous side-glance at Sam.

"Strip." The twin demanded.

Jarod's and Sydney's protests erupted simultaneously. Lyle shook his head. "Sam, show Sydney to the door."

"Jarod you heard me." Lyle stated evenly as Sydney was forcibly removed from the room. Ten seconds or we'll do it for you. 10 – 9 –8.."

Jarod knew this was one battle not worth fighting, as much as it despised him, and he quickly removed the Center uniform from his thin frame. He could confess the location of the paperclip, but if there was any chance they wouldn't find it – he had to take it, as foolish as it may seem.

"Good-boy. Now spread your arms and legs, and touch the wall."

Jarod sighed. It wasn't the first time he had been forced to endure a strip search while at the Center – although probably only the second time it was 'justified' paranoia. He complied hesitantly, as he was aware of his current vulnerability.

Jarod remained silent as he felt the sweepers approach him, and refused to let himself be provoked as Sam roughly slammed his head against the wall – apparently he wasn't as intimate with the wall as they wished him to be. As the rough hands explored virtually every inch of his exposed flesh, Jarod had to fight the feeling of nausea that overcame him. It seemed as if everything within Centre walls were orchestrated to make him realize that he had nowhere to hide, no privacy. He let out a grateful sigh of relief when the hands stopped their unwanted protrusion and quickly slipped back into his pants when they were offered to him. The second he had pulled them back on, he was slammed back against the wall, and carefully restrained. Sam grabbed his arm with a bruising grip, and pushed the off balance pretender roughly, causing Jarod to crash onto the floor, landing at Lyle's feet with a thud.

The twin bent over and grabbed a wad of Jarod's hair. He stared into Jarod's eyes. "Search the bed." He commanded, slamming Jarod's head to the floor.

Jarod attempted to slide himself towards the wall, but was stopped as Sam stepped his foot into the small of his back. "Where do you think you're going?" The sweeper mocked, as Jarod squirmed under his hold. "Apparently nowhere." The pretender retorted sarcastically, only to rewarded with the foot being further forced into his back. He stopped struggling in resignation, waiting for the inevitable.

The sweepers found nothing in the bed, as Jarod knew they wouldn't. He watched as Lyle scanned the room, checking the air vent, to make sure Jarod hadn't snuck it up there. His eyes finally rested on Jarod's shoes, hiding under his shirt. "Check those" The twin ordered to one of the sweepers.

The sweeper turned them over and was rewarded with a metallic ping. Jarod groaned inwardly as his prize was discovered.

Sam grabbed a fistful of Jarod's hair, and pulled the pretender to a kneeling position as Lyle approached him, paperclip in hand.

"And what exactly were you planning on doing with this?" Lyle questioned smugly.

Jarod shrugged nonchalantly. "I just thought I'd get a jump on making next year's Christmas decorations."

"Sam." Lyle commanded. Jarod braced himself as the sweeper delivered a wicked backhand, but still failed to prevent himself from faceplanting into the awaiting floor. He did however succeed in preventing the painful groan that threatened to surface. Sam didn't give him a second to recuperate, immediately yanking the fallen pretender upwards by the hair, back into a kneeling position.

Lyle predatorily circled Jarod before kneeling down to meet him at eye level. "When will you learn Jarod, we will never let you go. I expect more than these childhood stunts from you. Now, Miss Parker informs me that you have a revelation you wish to share with the group, and they are unfortunately waiting. You will be punished for this later." Lyle threatened, patronizingly speaking to Jarod as if he were a toddler.

Jarod remained silent as leg shackles were attached to his feet, before being pulled to a standing position. Sam didn't give him a moment to regain his balance before careening the pretender forward. Jarod caught his right foot on the chain dragging between his legs, and lurched forward, not failing to notice as Sam's normally iron-clad grip seemed to fail as he fell harshly onto his knees.

"Get moving." Sam sneered as he grabbed one of Jarod's restrained arms, a second sweeper following suit. They didn't give Jarod a chance to regain his footing, instead electing to drag the down the hall, his bare feet protested about being dragged along the linoleum.

As the group approached the simlab, Jarod couldn’t bring himself to meet Sydney's concerned gaze, as the shrink stood outside the door, Parker at his side. Jarod kept his eyes on the floor in submission, not in the mood to hear another lecture.

Sam and Mario, the other sweeper escorting Jarod, stopped in front of the pair, letting go of Jarod, and he fell the remaining distance to the floor with a groan.

"Get him on his feet." Parker commanded tersely. "Last time I checked he could still walk." She finished sarcastically. Jarod met her eyes as he was not so gently pulled to a standing position.

"I thought we had an understanding Jarod." Parker stated thinly.

"It was a damn paperclip Parker, this breathes of paranoia, especially for you." The pretender countered.

"Don't make this into something it wasn't, we are all aware of your Houdini tendencies Jarod, and you are mistaken for one moment if you think we were going to let you go that easily. I thought you were smarter than this." Parker responded smugly.

Jarod studied her face for a brief second. He had no idea how they had even discovered he had snatched the damn paperclip in the first place. He had planned it so carefully, to avoid detection from his guards and the cameras. It just didn't make sense. By the way he was being treated, he might as well have made an actual escape attempt.

Turning his attention to Sydney, Jarod continued. "You know me Parker, I'm not one to roll-over and give up. You can't hold on to me forever. I may be cooperating with you people now, but as soon as the lives of the innocent are no longer threatened, our truce is off. You people will screw up eventually, and I'll be gone, Corporation Zero or not." Jarod saw the obvious concern on Sydney's face.

Parker raised her eyebrows. "So that's how it's going to be?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Jarod replied.

Parker strode right up to Jarod, stopping inches from his face. Most men would have cowered under her glare, but Jarod remained tall, meeting her glare defiantly.

"Why must we also have the same recycled talk about false bravado Jarod? It's not becoming of you. You've been whiny and ungrateful about your accommodations since the moment you arrived here. However, I think you are about to realize, that we can makes things a lot more uncomfortable for you." Parker shifted her gaze to the sweepers that still were tightly gripping the pretender. "Please escort Jarod into the lab."

Jarod kept his gaze on Parker as he was pushed ahead into the lab. He didn't doubt that he would soon be regretting his actions, but one day they really would overlook something, and he would be gone.

Parker let her features melt as soon as Jarod had disappeared into the sim lab, knowing she was in for a lecture from Sydney.

"Parker, this was not what I had in mind earlier when we talked about Jarod's living conditions." The psychiatrist began.

Parker shook her head. "I can't trust him Sydney, he apparently has been brewing escape fantasies since we first brought him here. I thought we had declared a temporary truce that included him STAYING in the building. I'm not going to be responsible for Jarod slipping out of our fingers while we are here, I don't care if I have to keep him chained up 24 hours a day. He's the key to our survival. As long as he is here, we have a fighting chance."

"Parker, have you considered the possibility, that Jarod might have willingly assisted us from the outside?" The psychiatrist countered.

"I'm not a fool Sydney. I do not doubt for a second that he would have his slippery fingers firmly etched into this plot. But he needs to be here, under our terms. Knowing him he would probably manipulate it so both the Centre and Corporation Zero were dissolved."

Sydney shook his head. "The secrets to his past are hidden within the walls of the Centre. Until he's reunited with his mother, Jarod would never destroy us. Destroy the Centre, and all the secrets to his past, are gone."

Parker glared at the shrink. "His secrets, and mine. He's found every other family member, and it's just the threat of the Center that keeps them apart. One day they are going to write off Mommy, and he'll really be gone."

"I'm just asking that you let up on him a bit Parker. All he did was take a paperclip from the lab. You are treating him as if he made a full fledged escape attempt." Sydney continued.

"Don't patronize me Sydney, you know as well as I did what he was going to do. I know he designed this building, and a few minutes unsupervised, I do not doubt he would be long gone."

"Parker-" The psychiatrist continued, only to be silenced, as she held up her hand.

"This conversation is over Sydney. It's time for your boy-wonder to come clean about his work over the past few days."

Sydney sighed heavily as he watched Parker disappeared into the simlab, following Jarod's earlier footsteps. The situation was becoming more and more volatile, and Sydney was terribly concerned for Jarod's wellbeing. Parker was the pretender's his last true allie in Center hierarchy, and if the two continued to square off, well…Sydney couldn't bear to think of the possibilities. He was still haunted by the images of what had happened to Jarod in his last short stay at the Center under Lyle. He knew of the outstanding transfer order on Jarod, and he didn't doubt for a second that the Triumvirate would be seeking its completion, to get Jarod permanently sent to Africa, as soon as this was all over. Only a powerful force could negotiate for its revocation. Miss Parker was his only hope. Only she had enough pull in Center hierarchy to attempt to sway triumvirate interests. But she had to want it. Perhaps Sydney would fare better trying to reason with Jarod. Why was it that the two people he cared so much about in the world, were at such terrible odds against each other? He wouldn't give up – Jarod needed him.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES - SIM LAB

Broots found himself once again amazed at exactly how smart Jarod was. He didn't doubt that they had been chasing a genius for the past years, but it was so different to see it in real time.

They had a plan. Correction Jarod has a plan, and by some grace of god, he was sharing it with them. Broots didn't doubt that Jarod pined for the very demise of the Center, but he had overheard Sydney's and Miss Parker's argument in the hallway, and he now realized more thn ever, that as much as Jarod despised the Center, his secrets were hidden deep in their archives. He couldn't let them go, as much as they couldn't let him go.

Jarod was detailing his rescue mission for the missing Center subjects, a woman from New Zealand and two high profile pretenders from Germany. Only after they were successful recovered, could his plan to destroy corporation take into effect.

Broots allowed his thoughts to drift from the current conversation. Lyle and Miss Parker were brutally questioning the pretender, a result of their natural distrust. Broots couldn't help but notice the irony in the fact that man who was about to save them all, stood before them, feet chained and left arm tethered to the table. Jarod had a nasty welt on his face, and he figured by the way Sam was nursing his right hand, that the sweeper had something to do with it.

Broots felt a great deal of remorse, and perhaps if he had more of a spine then maybe he could do something to help the pretender. Jarod had such a kindness about him, a gentle soul, who really cared. Although he was terribly intimidated by Jarod, Broots felt nothing but overwhelming respect for the man, who had saved him from losing his daughter, and would now save him from losing his life.

"Broots."

The tech jumped as he was brought back to reality by the harsh bark from Miss Parker.

"Continue Jarod." She ordered.

The pretender nodded. "We need to get a few people at the Corporation under our payroll, but not just anyone. Broots was able to hack into their system and gain access to their employee list, official and not. We then individually analyzed each person who might be able to gain access or at least have information about our missing people. I have simmed them all, and have come up with our three best options. Once their location is confirmed, the rescue team will be ready to move."

Parker nodded. "I'll send Lyle to convince them."

Jarod shook his head. "No offense, but I don't think he's quite appropriate for the job. These people were selected based on their family ties, and ability to emphasize with our situation. I recommend sending Broots. As a single father of a beautiful daughter, he'll be more likely to sway them."

Parker shot up from her chair. "I refuse to endanger Broots."

Jarod shook his head. "I've simmed it several times Parker. Each of these three people are not main players, but rather trapped in the web of deception within Corporation Zero. Each one is a single parent, just like Broots, and equally as fearful of their position. They will be very empathetic to his cause. There is no way their information can be traced back to them, as there is no way that anyone would ever suspect that these three would have the guts to spill anything. It doesn't always have to be a power struggle, believe it or not, there are still people out there willing to do the right thing. Although if Broots safety is an issue – I would be happy to accompany him for moral support" The pretender finished playfully.

"Do not make light of this Jarod. The next time you will be allowed to step a foot out of this building is when you will transported back HOME." Parker said, studying Broots pale features.

"You will come up with something else. I am not risking a member of my team."

Again Jarod shook his head, gazing apologetically at Broots. "I'm sorry Mr. Broots, there is simply no other option. Lyle will head another mission at the same time, a ruse will you, and this will cast all attention away from Mr. Broots. He'll approach these people in their normal routines, grocery shopping centers, kids swimming lessons, etc. I promise you, he will be safe."

Parker shook her head. "I need time to think, Broots, Sydney, come with me."

Jarod watched apprehensively as the trio left the sim lab, turning his attention back to Lyle and Dr. Klaus whose gazes were focused solely on him.

"This better not be a game Jarod." Lyle threatened.

Jarod rolled his eyes, were they honestly stupid enough to think he would make light of saving their missing pretenders. They were just like him, and no one deserved to be under Alex's wrath. He shuddered thinking what would have happened if Corporation Zero had found him at the hospital before the Center did. Some may say a cage is a cage, but Jarod knew the depths of the evil that lay in Alex's soul –if one could say that he had one, and he had no doubt the man was using his pretender skills to break away at their core, as Jarod could only assume was done to Alex when he was shipped to Africa, after his failed attempt at escape. Jarod and Eddie had been much luckier. He met Lyle's gaze, but refused to reply to the twin, knowing any words he muttered would simply provoke the man.

"Sam, would you put Jarod away for the evening." The twin commanded. Jarod dropped his gaze slightly, he knew Lyle was just trying to provoke him, but it took a lot of swalled pride to not respond to being spoken about like he was some sort of barnyard lifestock.

Jarod maintained a submissive demeanor, as the sweepers unlocked him from the table, and quickly handcuffed his hands behind his back. He knew it was going to be a long night, Lyle had promised him he would be 'punished' for his earlier theatrics – and he didn't doubt that he would be. He uttered a long-winded sigh as they pushed him into the elevator, taking him down to the lower level for the second time that day.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES – INTERROGATION ROOM B

Broots swallowed nervously, he could not believe what he was about to do. He strode purposely up to the guard outside Jarod's door.

"I need in." He demanded, faking as much confidence as possible.

The sweeper eyed him curiously. "It's 3:30 in the morning. What could you possibly 'need in' for."

Broots pointed at the drawings in his hands. "Miss Parker wants me to finish this report for tomorrow morning." He held up another pad of paper "and I am unable to read Jarod's shorthand."

The guard studied both documents intently, although Broots knew it was well above his comprehension level. "Alright."

Broots nodded thankfully, and waited until the electronic lock was deactivated, before opening the door hesitantly. The tech walked in, his eyes immediately falling on the sole occupant of the room, who was obviously getting about as much sleep as he had been able to. Broots flinched as the door was shut behind him, and the lock was reactivated. He could only imagine the despair Jarod must have felt, hearing that sound every night for over thirty years.

"What can I do for you Mr. Broots?"

The tech stared dumbly at the pretender for a few seconds, taking in his grim appearance. It was clear that the sweepers had gone in on him again. The pretender was huddled in the fetal position, on a small sleeping mat on the floor. His feet were still shackled together, and his hands were loosely restrained by a small chain in front of his body.

"I--"The tech started dumbly. "I needed to ask you a question about your notes – I have to finish that report for Parker by the morning."

"What report –" The pretender started, but halting himself, as he caught onto Broots' charade.

Broots stole a glance at the video surveillance camera in the room, watching as the green light was conveniently deactivated. Jarod didn't fail to notice either.

"Why are you really here Mr. Broots?"

"Do you really think I can do this Jarod?" The tech mumbled, knowing the pretender would know exactly what he was talking about.

"Of course I do. I promise I would not put you in a position that you would be risking your life. Your daughter is much too important. I have full confidence you can do it." Jarod replied, pushing himself up to a sitting position against the wall. Broots didn't fail to notice that the pretender was shivering slightly. Jarod had not been given his shirt back, and the temperature of the lower levels obviously left something to be desired.

Broots nodded. He hadn't really planned his visit beyond this. Hesitantly he sat down beside the pretender, and pulled his prize out of his pocket.

"I know it's not much.' He muttered, but saw how Jarod's features lit up as he caught sight of the package of M&Ms in Broots' hands. Almost a month of green goop, Jarod could feel himself salivating.

"Jarod– I'm sorry. You are saving my life, all of our lives. You don't deserve to be treated this way." Broots mumbled as he passed the M&M's over to Jarod, who immediately tore open the package, dumping nearly half the contents into his mouth.

The pretender smiled sadly, after finishing off his mouthful. "I…"He stopped himself short. Tonight was not the night to angst over Center politics. "You better let me make some notes on that paper to keep up your charade."

Broots nodded mutely, as he passed over the pad, holding it on Jarod's lap, as the pretender struggled to write with his restrained hands. "Parker really does want this for tomorrow; she just didn't specify am or pm. I just found sleep wasn't finding me tonight, so I figured I might as well be productive. Deciphering your shorthand Jarod is nearly impossible."

The pretender smirked. "That's the idea Mr. Broots, although I've been trying to stay away from my own personal style for your benefit. Sometime, old habits just kick in." Jarod had developed his own shorthand, understandable only by him. In a place where your every move was recorded, it was the only way he could keep his thoughts private. The Center had actively discouraged it over the years, but Jarod had refused to let go.

"How's your daughter?" Jarod questioned the tech, shifting the conversation away from himself.

"Being away from Debbie is .. well it's hard. Sometimes I can't believe how much she has grown. She's off to college in a year!!"

The pretender nodded in amazement. "Where is she staying now?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.

"She was accepted into a French Language Bursary program, she left a week before this whole mess started for Paris – a whole semester abroad. Thankfully she is safely hidden away from this mess."

Jarod's face lit up at the mention of Europe. "I always intended to spend more time in Europe. She must be having a wonderful time."

"Judging by her emails that is exactly what she is doing." The tech replied. "I was hoping to get some vacation time this month to go visit her, but -." The pretender nodded his understanding. Although a rescue plan had been drafted, there was still many weeks of hard work left before the threat from Corporation Zero was completely different.

Broots checked his watch. Time was nearly up before his camera loop was over.

"I'll do it Jarod. If it's the only thing that will save our lives, I'll do it. What choice do I have?"

The pretender nodded, handing the now empty candy wrapper to Mr. Broots. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position Mr. Broots, there really is no other option. I would do it for you if I could. But –I know you can do this."

The tech nodded. "I have to, for my daughter, so she'll have a dad to come home to."

Jarod nodded in resignation. He hesitated momentarily, before pushing himself up to the ground; awkwardly approaching the tech. Broots noticed a grimace of pain on Jarod's face as he pushed himself upwards.

"Mr. Broots, I need a favour." He asked, his brown eyes spoke of grief.

"Anything Jarod. I will always be in debt to you for what you did for me and Debbie, let alone this whole mess."

The pretender reached out for the pad and pencil in Broots' hand. He quickly scribbled down an email address and a quick shorthanded message. "I need you to send an email for me."

The tech stood back in shock. "I can't Jarod, the triumvirate is monitoring EVERY communication that comes in and out of this building and dissecting every individual character."

The pretender shook his head. "Not now Broots. I need you to this if ….If I'm returned to the Center after this is all said and done."

"Your family" Broots questioned?

The pretender shifted his gaze to the floor. "Jay should be able to decipher my shorthand. They need to know I'm alright."

"Of course Jarod, I won't forget, I promise. Although I'm sure I won't need to." Broots replied guiltily, knowing it was one of his software programs that had driven Jarod away from his family the last time, never mind his capture. "Although maybe I should add this account to my daily search queue." The tech lamely joked.

Jarod just smiled sadly. "It's an old account, hopefully my Dad will still be checking it. We lost touch, after the last time."

The beeping on Broots watched alerted the duo to the fact the camera was due back on momentarily. The tech held up the pad. "Thanks for assistance Jarod." He stated artificially as the green light came back on.

Jarod just nodded weakly, sinking himself back onto the sleeping mat as the tech was released from the room by the guard outside the room. Thinking of his family left his already aching body feeling raw. He had been internally debating for the last week to ask the tech for assistance in getting a message out to his family, but his lack of privacy had made it impossible. The Major and Jarod had set up a simple email account that was only to be used in times of absolute emergency. He didn't wish to put his family in danger, but he knew from experience that knowing was simply better than not. Upon capture, he had been fairly confident an escape opportunity would present itself in a timely manner. However the days had quickly turned into weeks, and he was begin to doubt he would be able to make it away before he was returned to the Center. After that, he knew his days would be preciously numbered before the Triumvirate would again exert their powerful hold on the Center, and demand his transfer.

Lyle had made a bit show of bringing the sleeping mat into the cell after the sweepers had finished their 'session' with the pretender. Jarod didn't have to ask to know he had been permanently removed from his relatively comfortable room upstairs, and he would be spending anytime outside the simlab in the barren cell he now occupied. He supposed he should be grateful for the mat, but he knew it had been given him just to reinforce their control over him.

The sweeper stepped into Jarod's cell a few minutes after the tech had left. "You tell him everything he needed?" He threatened.

Jarod ignored his question. "Why don't you leave the thinking up to the big boys?"

The sweeper ignored the pretender's barb. "You two seemed awfully chatty for a few scribbles on the piece of paper."

"Well that's why you're not paid to think. Like I said, the thinking is much better done by those of us with better assets up here." The pretender responded, pointing to his head.

"Get up." The sweeper said evenly.

"What?" Jarod growled.

"You heard me, get up." The sweeper repeated.

"If your bored, may I suggest the Times crossword. It may prove to be a bit challenging for someone of your intelligence level but I-" Jarod was cut off as the sweeper moved over to him and landed a solid kick in the pretender's gut.

"Don't make me ask again."

Evilly eyeing the sweeper, Jarod painfully rose to his feet. He was quite accustomed to being provoked by the evening guards, their shift mundanely boring. As a child he had been regularly punished for crying out in his nightmares when the guards felt it so necessary. Jarod allowed himself to be pushed against the wall. The guard quickly patted down his legs and ran his hands around the waistband of Jarod's pants. The sweeper finally seemed satisfied after kicking over the sleeping mat. He released his hold on Jarod's neck. "Can't have you pulling your slippery finger stunt again, can we?"

Jarod just stared at him in contempt.

"Now be a good boy and go to sleep." The sweeper mocked as he left the pretender alone again. Jarod sighed as he sunk down into the corner of his cell. He had stolen a look at the sweepers watch, and it was slightly past four am. He would be collected in as little as an hour to go to the showers before being escorted to the simlab. No more sleep would be visiting him this night. So Jarod did what he did best, he sat, and stared at the wall, his brain working in overtime.

He had one more trick up his sleeve, one last viable escape attempt, but it was going to take the pretend of a lifetime.

But he would do it, he had to.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES - SIM LAB – FOUR DAYS LATER

"You want to do WHAT?" Parker yelled, her anger focused soley on Jarod. "I thought making Broots act as your little bribing minion was a bit eccentric for you Jarod, but this, this is utterly ridiculous. The answer is NO!"

The pretender sighed. He hadn't expectant this to be easy. Broots and Lyle were currently away, gathering information as Jarod had requested from the ranks of Corporation Zero.

Lyle's presence was more to run a ruse, to deflect any attention away from the tech.

Lyle's absence had been a welcome refuge for Jarod. Although they seemed intent on keeping him in the pitiful cell in the lower level, he had been given a four day reprieve from the sweepers, given that Lyle was not there to inflict the abuse.

Broots' information had been incredibly valuable to date, with the actual location of the three missing subjects confirmed earlier this morning. Who knew the men's room at Starbucks could be so productive? The last piece of information had fallen into place, and Jarod had just finished drafting his rescue plan.

Sydney, as always, tried to be the voice of reason between the two. "Parker– maybe we should just hear Jarod out, I'm sure his reasoning behind this, although far-fetched, is viable"

"Oh please Sydney." Parker patronized. "He wants to rescue the girl himself, why don't we just escort him to the front doors right now and wish him a nice life."

Jarod smirked. "Can't say I would object to that."

Sydney ignored them both. "Continue Jarod."

The pretender glared bitterly at Parker before continuing. "As I was saying, the two pretenders and the lone predictor are located at opposite ends of the facility. It would suicide for them, and for us to try and rescue both at the same time. It has to be done in two attempts."

"Yes Jarod, we all understand that." Parker replied, annoyance evidence in her voice. "But what I fail to understand is why you are so adamant that you be the one to complete the second rescue mission."

The pretender returned Parker's glare smugly. "After the first rescue attempt, security will be significantly tighter. It won't take Alex to long to figure out how we got in. The Center will then leak news of my unfortunate escape from their custody. Alex knows I'm here, he knows I'm involved, and he also knows that once outside these walls, the first thing I would do would make a move to rescue Lysander. One sweeper can follow me in, but I will make the initial rescue attempt. Alex will be waiting for me to come alone. He won't be expecting the Center, especially since all of you efforts will be focused on finding me."

"How do you know that Jarod?" Parker questioned, her tone harsh.

"I know Alex. He's had it out for me the second he didn't make it out of the Center with Eddie and myself. He'll be waiting. It's why he's doing what he's doing. There are two things he wants destroyed in this world: me, and the Center." Jarod stopped, before continuing with a nod of approval from Sydney.

"When Alex sees me slip into the cell, he'll let his guard down. That's when the sweepers should be able to neutralize him. A simple tranquilizer gun should do the trick."

"And then what Jarod?" Parker asked nastily. "You'll just kindly follow the sweepers back out the way you came? I know you, you are going to run."

Jarod pretended to look hurt. "Your confidence in me is overwhelming Miss Parker."

"This is not time for one of your games Jarod. You will come up with something else. The Triumvirate will be signing our death warrants if I pitch an idiotic scheme like this to them." Parker ranted.

"Then let him tell them." The accented voice of Dr. Klaus announced. The rooms' three occupants all turned their attention to the door of the simlab, where the German doctor had apparently been standing for quite some time, listening to Parker and Jarod square off. "Miss Parker a word if you will?"

"This isn't over Jarod." Parker threatened.

"I wouldn't expect anything less." The pretender replied smugly, turning his attention to Sydney as his huntress strode angrily from the lab.

"Very good work Jarod." The psychiatrist stated approvingly, seating himself at the table that held Jarod captive. Since the pretender's attempt at sneaking the paperclip, he had been kept under even tighter lock and key. It seemed that Parker had made good on her threat of making Jarod's living conditions less than bearable.

"Are you confident you will be able to convince the Triumvirate to adopt your plan?" The psychiatrist questioned.

"They have to Sydney. It's the only way." The pretender replied tersely.

"The only way to rescue the girl, or the only way that all parties involved get a chance of getting what they want?" Sydney asked knowingly.

Jarod deflected his eyes to avoid his mentors prying gaze. "I-"

Sydney shook his head, not wanting to say more in-front of the cameras. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you Jarod. Shall we go over the first rescue mission in more detail? I want you to tell me about how you plan to breach west left wing given the high level of security."

The pretender nodded, and began rummaging through his piles for the schematics he had drafted earlier.

AQUASTAR CLEANING SERVICES - EXECUTIVE BOARDROOM – TWO DAYS LATER

"I want to go on record as saying that this scheme that Jarod has thought up is utterly ridiculous, and is only a ruse for his escape fantasies." Parker stated, pacing the length of the boardroom.

"However my dear brother and your German doctor believe it is worth your ears. Just don't say I didn't warn you." Parker finished, starring strongly into the video screen.

The nameless black man on the screen nodded. "We were told the pretender would be presenting the results of his work in person?"

Parker nodded. "Lyle will be bringing him up momentarily. As you insisted on this video conference on such short notice, we were unable to set up in the secure level below. I am sure you can appreciate our nervousness at bringing Jarod up from his happy little prison below ground. Extra precautions were necessary."

The black man nodded, a slight laugh escaping his lips. "Dr. Klaus, how are things progressing with Henrik?"

"Well sir -" The doctor offered. "We've had a few uncharacteristic behavior issues, but he has far exceeded my expectations on his abilities for this assignment. I would declare this venture 100 percent successful."

The room fell silent as Lyle opened the door, followed by Jarod, who was carefully sandwiched between two sweepers. They had apparently found their prison break shackles, as the pretender wore a belt that held the chains to his wrists and ankles.

Jarod was escorted over to Parker, awkwardly shuffling along to keep up with the sweepers.

"Sir, I'm sure you will remember Jarod." Parker offered, forcing the center stage upon the pretender.

The dark man on the screen chucked. "We are looking forward to your company when this is all over Jarod." Obviously referring to the outstanding transfer order the Triumvirate had on Jarod, a one way trip to their main compound in the Congo.

"Unfortunately we'll have to agree to disagree on that one." The pretender responded rudely.

"Jarod." Lyle warned.

Jarod sighed inaudibly. He had been called before the Triumvirate only a handful times in his lifetime – but this was the only time he wasn't completely petrified by it. Today the tables were turned, and Jarod would be the one manipulating the 12 member board he knew would be watching and listening attentively to his every word. If he could pull this off, he would be writing his own ticket out of Center custody, freeing Lysander in the process.

Jarod threw a glance in Lyle's direction as he shuffled towards the boardroom table, his eyes focusing on the window across the room. It was well past midnight, but Jarod could see a few stars poking through the clouded winter's sky.

"Mario– take him to the other side of the room." Parker demanded, seeing the pretender's focus lay well outside the perimeter of this room. "Jarod, you are not up here to stargaze." Parker chided as the sweeper released the pretender. "Focus. Your eyes will not leave this screen – is that understood?" Jarod nodded in resignation. This was not the time to provoke Parker.

"Are we ready to begin?" The voice on the projector inquired. "I do not need to remind you that time is of the essence."

Jarod took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was about to blatantly lie to and openly manipulate just about every important player in the realm of the Triumvirate. He could almost taste his freedom.

"Where would you like me to begin?" Jarod questioned.

"Just tell us how we are going to get our missing subjects back."

"We'll you see…………"

Three hours later, a very exhausted pretender was escorted back to his cell, a small smile evident on his features.

CENTER SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURED LOWER LEVEL - T-24 HOURS

It had been a long drive to Texas from the Aquastar complex in Northern Utah, especially for the man who spent the entire journey carefully shackled in the back of a cargo van. The Center was rightfully nervous about using the Corporate Jet, as it might as well be a flashing beacon announcing their imminent rescue missions.

Jarod had been subjected to nearly three hours of questioning from the Triumvirate officials, but he had managed to convince him to endorse his plan.

Three days prior, Jarod had successfully directed the rescue of the two German pretenders from the Corporation Zero headquarters. As far as the Triumvirate was concerned, Lysander was the far more profitable prize compared to the other two, the so called 'golden egg'. Corporation Zero knew this, and thus the Center had carried out a 'phantom rescue', a poorly planned attempt at removing Lysander that consequently failed. With the Corporation Zero security staff focused on finding an intruder who had 'tripped an alarm' on the west side of the building, the two man rescue squad was easily able to slip in undetected on the east side, and easily remove the two stolen pretenders. With all likelihood, the two pretenders had been safely secured at the safehouse, before security had realized they were even missing. Jarod and Broots had also taken advantage of the distracted security and tech staff to plant several software patches on the network, now giving Broots full control of the video surveillance system on-site if he so desired. Unfortunately the exterior camera where Jarod would be penetrating complex was run on a different server. However Broots had done some digging and discovered that daily at 4pm, the camera went offline for precisely 23 minutes, downloading the daily digital archive onto the mainframe. All the plans had fallen into place, and tomorrow afternoon Jarod would be going in to rescue Lysander. Twenty-four hours, and freedom would be in his grasp.

As a final security blanket for Lysander's rescue, news of Jarod's escape was filtered out. Jarod knew this would draw Alex out, as the man would no longer expect the Center would have the 'intellectual' capability to successfully remove Lysander, and thus the heightened security would be downgraded. He would also be expecting Jarod to stage a rescue attempt of his own on Lys, after 'botching' up the first one.

Jarod had spent most of his two days at the Texan safehouse, in a small holding cell. Besides confirming a few tech details with Broots, Jarod had been pretty much left alone. Parker was vehemently opposed to this rescue plan, convinced that Jarod had dreamt this up just to make a break for it. Her intuition amazed even Jarod at times. He had been able to fool the Triumvirate relatively easily, but Parker remained as the opposition, always his huntress.

He had passed the time simming his escape plan over and over again, trying to detect any flaws. He had committed the blueprints of the facility to memory, and had calculated the exact distance and expected travel time. His main concern was any additional steps Parker might take to ensure Jarod wouldn't try to run. If she brought her A-game to the table tomorrow – things could quickly go astray.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – UPPER LEVEL

"I still say he's going to run." Parker informed her twin. The two were going over the final preparations for the rescue tomorrow.

Lyle shrugged nonchalantly. "It wouldn't surprise me if the little snot tried to make a break for it at some point. But I think our extra precautions will clearly prevent an escape. It's more fun when you catch them after they've tried to run. Admit it, we're all going to be a little disappointed tomorrow if Sam emerges from the tunnel, the two rats following him out like little lost puppies."

Parker shook her head in disgust, meeting Lyle with an ice cold glare. "Jarod feeds off of our underestimation of his talents. I've spent six years of my life chasing that man – and I can tell you, he will do whatever it takes to remain free."

Lyle just smiled cockily at his twin. "Have you have considered the possibility that maybe this time around, the labrat has underestimated us?"

Miss Parker broke eye contact with Lyle. "Wouldn't that be the day."

Moving to a nearby counter, Parker poured herself a generous helping of scotch, passing the bottle over to Lyle when she was done. He eagerly helped himself, clinking her glass in mock celebration.

"Tomorrow we begin the next phase of our lives, Jarod free. My god does it feel good to say that. I can finally purchase a convertible without fearing it is about to be blown to pieces." Lyle smirked.

Parker ignored his cockiness.

"You know it's a shame I won't be there to see Jarod off on his little adventure tomorrow." Lyle said, feigning disappointment. "Although between you and me, I'm hoping he makes a break for it. It will make sending his sorry little ass to Africa that much more satisfying. The Zulus aren't known for their power of forgiveness, and between whatever stunt he may pull tomorrow, plus the whole Scotland fiasco, I'd say he's is in for a hard ride."

Parker caught her twin's eye. "I forgot that you and Raines conveniently told the Triumvirate that Jarod was responsible for the death of their men, who I believe you shot."

Lyle shrugged. "Better him then me. That kind of thing can get a man killed."

Parker shot her head up. "They wouldn't-"

Lyle laughed. "Fortunately for Jarod, only high power executives are worthy of a Zulu-issued death warrant. Jarod's brain is far too valuable to let it go over a few simple 'discipline' issues. But don't you worry, I'm sure the Africans will find a creative way to make genius boy pay, wouldn't want you to have wasted six years of your life just for the labrat to meet his maker with a bullet in his head. Although when they are done with him, he may be wishing we had done just that."

Parker felt a familiar clenching in her stomach, as she quickly downed the rest of the liquor in a single swoop. She was desperately hoping that Jarod would prove her wrong tomorrow, and emerge safely from Corporation Zero. If he were so blatantly manipulate the Triumvirate as to ruse up an escape attempt – there little nothing left she could do to protect him.

Deep down inside, she knew she really did care for the labrat, but if he did what she was thinking he would tomorrow, that was it – he'd be out of her life. Once the Africans had their hands on Jarod, his thirty years of captivity under her father and Mr. Raines would look like a family picnic. It was amazing, considering Jarod's childhood, that his morals were so firmly implanted in the very root of his being. Sydney, despite all his wrong-doings had given Jarod the ultimate gift one could be given while being raised in the bowels of the Center – humanity. However in an organization that run itself based on coercion and deception; morals were the ultimate weakness. Jarod would have a long way to crash. Parker had seen enough men return from Africa to know their 'corporate education' program didn't fail. The strongest of men would weep at their feet. She couldn't bear to imagine what Jarod would be like after the Zulu's had their hands on him.

She'd seen too many people destroyed in her life to standby and watch another soul torn to pieces by the Center.

COOPERATION ZERO HEADQUARTERS – TUNNEL ENTRANCE – T-10 minutes

Jarod fidgeted nervously. He was in the back of the cargo van, heavily restrained, as was alarmingly becoming status quo as his stay in Center custody progressed. They were taking no chances. He was antsy to get going, the waiting was not helping his nerves.

Jarod stopped his fidgeting as the van doors were opened and Parker crawled in beside him.

"What's that?" Jarod questioned, noticing a small metallic device in her hand.

Parker remained silent as she attached a tracking device to the pretender's leg.

"Reassurance." Was her one worded reply.

"An electronic collar." He said accusingly. "Your confidence in me is simply overwhelming."

Parker met Jarod's eyes with a cold stare. "Listen carefully Jarod, I'm only going to warn you once. If you do, what I'm pretty sure you are planning on doing – I won't be able to protect you."

Jarod just smiled smugly at her. "And what exactly are you proposing I might do, Miss Parker?"

"Save it Jarod. If you are back in this van in two hours as planned, it may be enough leverage to keep you out of Africa. Make a run for it –there will be no protection for you anymore. You're playing a dangerous game Jarod, one that will have disastrous results. " Parker warned.

"Protection, Miss Parker? A cage is a cage, The Congo, Delaware, Germany. It doesn't matter where I am if I'm on the wrong side of the bars." Jarod countered.

"Don't kid yourself Jarod. You know what kind of depravity the Africans are capable of. No one is immune. Not even you Jarod. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"For some onewho is so inherently concerned about my wellbeing, you're being awful carefully about keeping me in chains." Jarod replied angrily.

"That's the game Jarod, remember. You run, I chase. It has to end someday, and maybe that day is now. No one can run forever. Consider the past few years your little interlude, but now it's time to stay the course. Face it, your ass is destined to wander the bowels of the Center, just as mine is. " Miss Parker leaned uncomfortably close to Jarod. "How's that for you damn turning point."

Jarod turned away for her intense glare, Parker was obviously referring to the desperate conversation Jarod had instigated at the Glasgow Airport.

"I've always said we deserve something more in this life. It just appears as if some of us want it more than others."

Parker grabbed his face, forcing his eyes back on her. "Save me the 'higher then thou' lecture Jarod. You should be focused on your own well-being. Go through with what you're planning, and you'll be officially out of my life – for good."

Jarod pulled away, slightly stunned by her harsh words. "It's comforting to know your memories of me can be so easily erased Miss Parker. Who's next on the chopping block, Thomas? "

The second the words left Jarod's mouth, he instantly regretted them. He watched as his huntress eyes hardened in front of him. His head whipped harshly to the right as Parker slapped him, hard in the face. "You do not get to tarnish his memory Jarod. On his worst of days, he was 5 times the man you will ever hope to be."

Jarod lowered his head submissively. "I'm sorry Miss Parker – I deserved that."

Parker glared at him fiercely. "Damn right you did."

"I- " Jarod started, but was unable to find the right words.

"You what?" Parker mocked.

He shook his head miserably. "I just can't picture my life without you." He finished softly.

"Do, what I think you are planning to do, and I swear to you Jarod, you will never see me again."

"What do you want me to do Parker?" Jarod questioned desperately.

"I want your ass back in this van in two hours." Was her terse reply.

"And then what? Straight into a nice cell on SL-24? Beg Lyle for his forgiveness to get my trip to the Congo revoked? You should know enough about me to know I won't give up, until I'm free."

"Maybe your nine lives are up this time Jarod."

"There's always opportunity Parker. One just has to have the willpower to turn around and find it. But let me ask you, if you are so worried about me making a run for it, why are you letting me go? I'm clearly not going anywhere like this." He said, tugging on his chains for emphasis.

Parked let out a small laugh. "I'm just following orders Jarod –something you should learn how to do again. Welcome to hierarchy of life."

Jarod glanced miserably at Parker  as she again bent down to his leg, confirming the tracking device was firmly attached to his leg, before climbing out the van. It was just another obstacle in his way, but he was confident he could be able to give his pursuers the slip regardless of what chains they kept him in. If he let fear of capture stop him, he never would have had the guts to leave the Center in the first place. He just couldn't understand why Parker was so adamant about him not trying to escape. Something was clearly amiss. He had carefully planned every second of what he was about to do, failure was not in his cards, not today. Could it be that she had finally reached the end of her rope, that she couldn't fathom another round of the tired game of 'I run, you chase.' He shook his head roughly, trying to purge the paranoid thoughts from his head.

Parker had been insistent that Sam be the one to escort the pretender into the tunnel, before turning him loose to rescue Lysander. Willie and another group of highly trained sweepers were at the ready, in case intervention was necessary. However their penetration into the access tunnel, would almost certainly alert Corporation Zero to the Center's presence. They needed Alex to believe it was a one-man show.

As Jarod was escorted out of the van, he saw Parker just ahead, in deep conversation with Sam. The duo approached Jarod, who was held firmly in the strong grips of the two sweepers escorting him, despite still having his arms restrained behind him. Jarod was genuinely surprised that Lyle was not present for this dance, the twin had been uncharacteristically absent for the entire morning. Jarod assumed he was heading up the team who was starting the 'financial' attack on Corporation Zero. A few software programs installed in the network, on top of a few 'stock' games, and the Corporation would soon be finding itself nearing financial ruin.

Parker handed Sam a small backpack. "There's a small medical kit, stimulants, etc. We don't know what shape the girl is going to be in. Sources indicate she's been badly abused. There's also extra restraints incase she's less than cooperative, and the necessary tools to free her should she be nicely trussed up. You watch her Sam, she's apparently as much as a Houdini as the labrat here tries to be. I don't care if you have to shackle these two together, just get them back out here safely."

Parker turned her attention to Jarod, slipping a headset over his head. "You will give us vocal confirmation every minute Jarod. This is not a one-man show. If you get into trouble, you will call for backup. If you ignore us, I will be sending the sweepers in to drag you out of here – whether you have the girl or not. If Sam fails to give us vocal confirmation, I will be sending them after you. I do not need to warn you about the consequences of attempting to remove the tracking device, do I?."

Jarod shook his head.

"You ready?" Parker questioned curtly..

"As I'll ever be." Jarod replied, trying to squash the butterflies that had formed in his stomach. He was confident in his plan, but was well aware that Alex himself was a pretender, and that things quickly could slide out of his favor. Parker was obviously convinced he was going to run, and with good reason. However without knowing what alternate escape route Jarod had discovered in his hours spent scanning the blueprints, there would be little likelihood she would be able to catch up to him, once Sam was given the slip. When this was all said and done, she would be able to mooch the "I told you so" right up the corporate ladder.

Parker nodded, and moved to release Jarod from the handcuffs, before handing them to Sam.

"I hope you will not need to use them." She scoffed.

Jarod checked his watch, rubbing his now free hands. "We only have 14 minutes left before the camera's finish uploading their archives."

"Good Luck Jarod." His huntress offered, leaning in dangerously close to Jarod's face. "And remember what I told you. If I don't see you back here in two hours, there will be no refuge for you anymore."

Jarod flinched at her use of his safeword, he studied Miss Parker's face for a few seconds before starting to turn around, finding a familiar iron-clad grip on his bicep. He made an exaggerated show of checking out Sam's hand on his arm, before giving Parker a look of disgust. "I'm perfectly capable of showing myself there."

"Hierarchy Jarod – deal with it." Was her uncaring reply, as the pretender was shoved in the direction of the awaiting manhole.

Parker checked her watch as Sam and Jarod disappeared from sight. "Get the vans out of sight now. We have 12 minutes until live surveillance comes back on." She barked at the remaining members of her team. "You better prove me wrong Jarod." She continued under her breath, certain the pretender was about to engage in a deadly game with the Triumvirate, one that certainly did not have a happy ending.

LYSANDER'S ROOM – CORPORATION ZERO

"I need the video surveillance looped now." Jarod whispered into the headset. They were

approaching the air vent exit to Lysander's room. He waited a full minute until receiving Parker's confirmation that it had in fact be done.

Jarod turned his attention to the sweeper behind him. "You know what has to be done?" The sweeper nodded, neither man in the mood to provoke the other.

Jarod quickly and as quietly as possible unscrewed the vent cover, before sliding it underneath him. With a quick breath he lowered himself onto the floor.

Turning around gingerly he caught sight of Lysander lying on her bed, her slim figure blatantly visible due to the bright orange of what he assumed was Corporation Zero's 'uniform'. The woman's soft blue eyes met his, surprise evident on her features. Jarod's heart did a nervous flip as her eyes shifted from him to the area behind him. He didn't doubt for a second that Alex was there. Showtime.

The air was whooshed out of Jarod's lungs as he was toppled over. "Always the gallant white knight, aren't we Jarod!" The pretender groaned as he rolled over to meet his assailant.

"Nice to see you again Alex" He said thickly.

"I just knew you couldn't resist. Less than a week away from home, and you came to rescue their subject. I don't doubt that they used your rescue plan to remove the other two pretenders. You really botched it up with this gal though!" Alex replied smugly. He had obviously bought the fake information planted on the Center mainframe, indicating that Jarod had escaped.

"What do you want Alex?" the pretender questioned, trying to keep the man distracted enough to avoid him alerting the guards.

"You, Jarod. I want you. I'm sure you've enjoyed the little game I created. Not only did I almost succeed in destroying the Center, I got your sorry ass locked up back where it belongs. To bad you had to go and ruin that. You know, another few hours in the hospital, and it would have been my guys bringing you in, instead of theirs. Imagine how that could have turned out eh?"

Jarod swallowed nervously. He had to get Alex to move into the center of the room, and only pray that Sam would have the balls to take his shot. They were going to hit him with a tranquilizer gun, if Sam missed, everything could go horribly wrong. One shot, one chance.

"Who are you?" Lysander's accented voice questioned from across the room.

Alex turned and smirked at his female prize. "Lysander, I want you to meet Jarod, Grade A meat as far as the Centre is concerned. You've apparently been selected as his 'good-deed' of the week. Unfortunately his little 'white knight' quest has failed. Now -you both are mine."

Jarod pushed himself quickly onto his feet, trying to look as threatening as possible. He was rewarded with the tip of Alex's gun being jabbed into his chest.

"Now you really don't expect me to believe you're going to use that on me." Jarod smirked.

"You went to all this effort to capture me. At least point it somewhere believable, like my knee."

"Big words Jarod. Your life has no value to me, other than to see you sit in utter misery – back in a cage, where you belong. Now unless you want a bullet through your shin, sit on the bed."

Jarod stared Alex down before backing towards the bed. Lysander quickly sat up, making room for him. He could see her left leg was carefully chained to the bed, which was of course welded to the floor. She caught his eye as he sat down beside her. "I ran." She stated, obviously referring to the chain.

Alex chuckled "It may be medieval, but it's effective. Don't worry Jarod, we'll get you fitted right away for one of your own."

Alex was firmly planted by the door, and Jarod knew it would be a matter of minutes before someone figured out the camera was looped or Alex called for his reinforcements. He needed to do something, now.

Jarod turned to Lysander. "One cannot expect much creativity from a man of his intelligence. Did Alex share his fun little tale with you about his time with the triumvirate after his bungled escape attempt from the Center?"

Jarod was rewarded as Alex stormed over to Jarod, pistol-whipping the pretender in the face.

The pretender grunted heavily as he flew backward, but he was quickly steadied by Lysander.

He glanced playfully at her. "It seems I have hit a nerve."

Alex grabbed Jarod by his hair, and dragged him into the center of the room. "It was your fault Jarod! You left me there to suffer their wrath. I got my retribution against Eddie. Now it's your turnto pay. I - "

Jarod flinched as Alex dropped to the ground, smiling in satisfaction. For all of his grievances against Sam, he had to admit the sweeper had a deadly aim. He wished he could see the look on Alex's face when he woke up.

Looking down at his feet, he noticed the pool of blood slowly forming beneath the fallen man.

Jarod stumbled back. "NO!"

Lysander has instinctively embedded herself into her bed when the shot had rung out. Sam had used a silencer, but the shot still echoed in the small cell.

Jarod stormed over to the vent, pushing Sam away angrily before picked up his earlier discarded head set. Wearing it, certainly would have tipped off Alex that this was not a one-man show. "You promised me it would just be a tranquilizer gun." He snarled into it accusingly, glaring defiantly at the sweeper.

"What do you care Jarod." Was Parker's reply. "Spare me the lecture, just get the girl and get the hell out of there. You can lecture us about our ethics once you two are safely in the back out here. Focus Jarod. He's better off dead, we're all better off with him dead."

"You had no right to make that decision with out consulting me. " Jarod growled back.

"To bad your little brother was around still – I hear it was his area of expertise." Parker snarled back. "Sam, get him under control." She ordered.

Jarod had to fight the nausea that threatened to overcome him, as his stomach clenched involuntarily at Parker's harsh mention of Kyle. Alex had been a thorn in his side for quite some time, and Jarod could never forgive him for the way he had murdered poor Eddie in cold blood. He was still haunted regularly by what he had done to Damon, let alone the faceless victims of the hundreds and hundreds of sims he had performed over the years. He had a spent a whole lifetime dealing death, without even realizing it, and swore the second he escaped, he would NEVER do it again - no matter who it was. Now after years on the run, he had once again allowed the Center to manipulate his work to do mortal harm.

Jarod's thoughts were interrupted as Sam pushed the pretender against the wall, gazing into the pretender's eyes. "We need to finish this." The sweeper snarled, accurately sensing the pretender was close to a breakdown. The pretender's eyes drifted to Alex's corpse, but Sam slammed him heavily back against the wall. "Free the girl." The sweeper ordered.

Jarod shook his head, as if trying to escape from the images taking over his brain. He had to keep it together, so that he and Lysander could get away from these people.

He angrily pushed away the sweeper. "I need something to pick her lock." He demanded.

Sam hesitated, but offered up the lock pick. Jarod wasted no time, and in seconds Lysander was free. As she stood up, she gazed into Jarod's troubled eyes. "Thank you." She said, gently grabbing hold of the pretender's hand, sensing Jarod's near panicked state. "He's better off that way – you don't know what that man is capable of." She whispered softly, her eyes betraying how badly she had been violated.

Jarod studied her face, giving her a small smile and softly squeezing her hand.

Sam walked over to them both, pulling out his own gun.

"Get in the vent - now." He ordered at the two.

Jarod sighed heavily as Lysander stared accusingly at him. "I thought you were my white knight?" She spat out sarcastically. "This is just a Triumvirate Rescue mission after all! And you're just another spineless project doing their dirty work!"

Jarod shook his head sadly. "I had no choice." Meeting Lysander's eyes he gave her a small wink, hoping she would catch on that things were not quite as they seemed.

Both the pretender and the predictor were roughly pushed ahead when they failed to move. "I said, in the Vent. Don't make me ask again." Sam threatened.

"Or else WHAT." Lysander grumbled, ready to defy the sweeper's order, but thought differently as the trio became aware of a commotion down the hall – the guards had clearly been altered to something amiss. "Fine – I'll take my chances with you two clowns." She mumbled.

Without hesitating, the trio rushed to the vent, Jarod pulling himself in last. He quickly screwed the vent cover back into place. Sam knowingly handed him a small power device, and he quickly attached it to the vent via a small circuit, temporarily electrifying it. It wasn't much, but it would buy them valuable time if someone tried to follow them into the vents. Jarod spoke into his head set, giving confirmation that they were safely back in the vent system, just as he heard the door to Lysander's cell fly open.

The race was on.

As they climbed through the vents, Jarod checked his pocket for his prize. The commotion had distracted Sam enough to forget to retrieve the lock pick from the pretender. Jarod was one step closer to freedom.

TUNNEL ACCESS – CORPORATION ZERO SUBELVEL 1

Jarod was nearing exhaustion as he finally made it back to ground level. They had climbed up the equivalent of nearly fifteen sublevels. His arms felt like jello. Upon regaining his footing, Jarod spoke confidently into his headset. "We're at the access point, release the phantom getaway vehicle now." In order to further keep up the charade, two sweepers, one male, one female would be dashing across Corporation Zero's land into a planted escape vehicle. This would draw out most of the Corporation Zero's security, as they would unwillingly be chasing the wrong vehicle.

Jarod waited as Lysander and Sam climbed up behind him, watching as the sweeper gave his vocal confirmation to Parker. Jarod gazed over to Lysander, trying to get her to play along with what was to come next. Fortunately Sam had seemed oblivious to the looks that had passed between the two throughout their crazed jaunt through the airvent sytem.

The sweeper pulled out his gun. "Alright, both of you, on your knees, hands on your heads, backs to me."

Jarod stepped away from the sweeper, trying to get Lysander out of Sam's field of view so she could surprise the sweeper from behind. Unfortunately, the sweeper stood his ground.

"Nice try Jarod. On your knees now, or I'm getting Parker in here."

Jarod complied with Sam's command, confident an opportunity would present itself to overpower the sweeper. Lys, however, remained standing.

"What part of that didn't you understand?" Sam questioned the woman.

"What are you going to do, shoot me?" Lys quirpped back. Jarod smirked from his position on the ground. She definitely had a lot of spirit.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "If that is what it takes. You have ten seconds, or a bullet is going through your knee."

"I think you're bluffing, what are you going to do, carry me out?"

Sam chucked. "No dear, but he will." The sweeper stated, motioning to Jarod's back.

"Five seconds, what's it going to be?" Sam questioned the defiant woman before him.

She did her best to stare the sweeper down, before kneeling down beside Jarod.

"This is your plan?" She whispered sarcastically as they heard Sam rummaging around for their manacles.

The two flinched as a pair of handcuffs landed squarely between them.

"Cuff yourselves together."

Lysander laughed. "What kind of rescue operation is this? I don't do threesomes." She spat out, immediately feeling the butt of a gun at the back of her head.

"Now." The sweeper warned.

Lys made a big show of shaking her head in disgust, picking up the handcuffs and attaching one end to Jarod's right wrist. "Thanks." He muttered, as she locked the other half on her left wrist.

She turned her head to face the sweeper behind her to best of her ability. "Now what?"

Sam jabbed his gun into Jarod's back. "Time to go for a walk. If you two so much as glance in the wrong direction, one of you is getting a bullet through their knee. Got it?"

The pair remained silent, as they coordinated their efforts to stand up.

"Move." Sam commanded, giving Jarod a strong push forward. The pretender lurched forward with an exaggerated step, giving his handcuffed right wrist a forceful tug. The strain on the chain threw Lysander violently into Sam, knocking the gun out of the surprised sweeper's hand, as he toppled over. Lysander followed suit, but was painfully pulled back by resistance on the handcuff chain.

"Ouch." Lysander commented dryly, a smirk on her face, as Jarod moved in to steady her.

"You always use your fair maidens as projectile objects?" She joked.

Jarod chuckled, handing her the gun he had recovered from Sam. "Only the special ones."

"Now what? We're going to sprint out of here like conjoined twins?" Lysander questioned, pointing the gun at the furious sweeper beneath her.

Jarod frowned as Parker's voice sounded in his headset, requesting Sam's confirmation.

"Jarod, what's going on?" His huntress yelled into his ear after Sam failed to respond.

"Sam and I are just taking care of a bit of business." he responded cattily, while removing the lockpick out of his pocket. "Gotta go." He finished, throwing off his headset. He easily removed the handcuffs keeping him and Lysander tethered together and focused his efforts on the tracking device still attached to his left leg.

Lysander kicked the fallen handcuffs over to the sweeper. "Your turn." She said sweetly. "My shooting range is not limited to below your knee cap, so I suggest you don't hesitate." She could hear Jarod's grumble of frustration as he failed to free himself from the electronic leash.

Sam glared daggers at her, but complied with her order. "You will pay for this. Both of you."

Lysander shrugged. "I've been threatened for half a lifetime by brainless goons like you. Your threats mean nothing to me."

The two fugitives became aware of a commotion down the tunnel as Jarod desperately wrestled with the tracking device. "Jarod we've got to move now, I can see them." Lysander pleaded.

He gave the device on his leg one last desperate jiggle, and was relieved as the metal fell off his skin.

"It's been fun Sam." The pretender taunted. "Say goodbye to Miss Parker for me, will you?"

The sweeper grunted his response as Jarod rose to his feet, gauging how far Parker's entourage was behind him before gently pulling Lysander in their desired direction.

"Ready?" He questioned. She nodded, giving a concern glance back towards their pursuers as the two took off in a desperate sprint.

About two hundred feet down the tunnel, they quickly rounded a corner, stopping at a small manhole.

Lysander looked up at him expectantly. "You have a little more spine that I originally thought." She panted, her tone light.

Jarod smiled at her. "We have to crawl down two more levels, there is a sewer access point. We can escape from there." He explained, pulling the manhole cover off. "Ladies first."

Lysander scrunched her face at the mention of sewer. "Didn't anyone ever tell you about the noble steed that is supposed to accompany the white knight?" She teased.

By the time Parker and the sweepers made it around the corner, the manhole cover was secured back in place.

Jarod and Lysander had vanished.

Parker leaned heavily against the wall. "They're gone." She whispered into her headset.

She hit her head against the wall in frustration.

"Miss Parker?" The frantic voice of Broots called into her head set. "They know you are in the tunnel, you have to get out, and fast!" Parker swore.

"OUT-NOW!!" She commanded at her team.

SEWER ACCESS – CORPORATION ZERO BIOTRACT 12

Jarod breathed in the fresh air gratefully as he slid the sewer grate from above his head. Freedom had never smelt so beautiful, especially after trudging a better part of a mile through raw sewage. It was not the most elegant of escapes, but it had done the trick. He quickly popped out of the sewer access, before reaching down to pull Lysander to safety.

Jarod was grateful that the timing of their escape allowed them to emerge in nightfall; it would make it much easier to get off the property without detection from either the Center or Corporation Zero. Fortunately Corporation Zero's headquarters were located in Texas, as a midwinter escape would have been impossible from one of the northern states, given their state of dress. They would have been frostbitten in a matter of minutes.

The two fell to the ground in exhaustion, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of grass beneath them. The night sky was dark and uninviting, as a few stars struggled to shine through the mass of clouds that had taken over. But for the two people who had spent their lives in places where the lights were never out, darkness was a welcomed reprieve. Only the sound of their huffing breaths could be heard.

Lysander was the first to speak after inhaling some much needed oxygen. "I can't believe, after all of this, I'm free. What can I ever do to repay you??"

"Nothing, you owe me nothing. We both know what it's like to be on the wrong side of their bars." Jarod replied softly.

"I don't know how much longer I could have survived in there. Alex, he… he was capable of horrific things." Lysander admitted, surprising herself at how easy it was to expose her vulnerability to the man before her. "I can't believe he used to be one of us." She added brokenly.

Jarod turned onto his side, reaching his hand to Lysander's shoulder in comfort. "We do what we have to do to survive. Alex wasn't strong enough, and somewhere along the way, he lost himself completely."

Lysander shuddered, as the tears she had been suppressing for past month began to surface.

"It's why I fight. It's why when they say sit, I stand. Submitting to their will terrifies me. I'm afraid I could plunge so deeply, I'll never find my way out again. Alex, he pushed me closer to that edge then I've ever been before. I should have known he was already far past the point of no return himself."

Jarod smiled sadly at the woman in front of him as he sat up into a kneeling position, gently pulling Lysander up with him. "You survived. That's all that matters." He comforted, squeezing her hands.

"Is it?" She questioned. "What if that's not enough? What if I can't forget what I saw? What was done to me? What I did?"

"It has to be." Jarod replied. "What else do we have to get comfort from?" He gently wiped away the tears that were falling down Lysander's face.

"My rebellion is all I have Jarod. Everything else about my life is controlled. He almost took that away! I've never felt so vulnerable, so helpless, so broken."

Jarod pulled her into a strong hug as the sobs overcame her body. "That's not true. You have yourself, your emotions, your thoughts, your dreams. As long as you don't let them in your head, those things they can never take from you."

"I gave up dreaming years ago." Was Lysander's sad reply. "The nights are too long to be tortured by what could have been. People like us don't get to have the luxury of dreaming."

"I find myself too often haunted by what was." Jarod admitted. "But without my dreams, I wouldn't have found the courage to hope for a better future, the courage I needed to escape."

Lys smiled sadly at him, wiping the last of her tears away. "Look at me, five minutes of freedom and I'm a complete disaster. Could I be more of a girl?" she joked, desperately trying to lighten up the mood. For the past two decades she had been hiding her inner turmoil from those around her. She was slightly unsettled by how easily she had opened up to the man who had rescued her. Then again, given his own life was likely spent in the same dismal atmosphere as hers, he could understand her suffering in a way few ever could.

"Not with those clothes." Jarod joked, referring to Lys' unfortunate state of dress in the bright orange scrubs that made up Corporation Zero's inmate uniform. In order to keep up the 'escaped Jarod' façade, he had been granted his old wardrobe back.

She glared at him in mock anger, pulling herself to her feet, offering her hand to Jarod, to help

him do the same. "I assume we can't lounge around here indefinitely?"

"We're not completely safe yet." Jarod warned, standing up himself. "We still have a few miles to cover."

"You got us this far. I must admit that I do hope the next portion our journey is a bit less demanding. Are you sure our rank smell won't give us away?" Lys joked.

Jarod chuckled lightly. "Shall we?" He questioned lightly, holding out his hand. "There is a treeline just over there, once we reach that, we should be mostly out of harms way!" The pretender said, pointing in their desired direction.

"Onwards and upwards!" Lysander responded, taking ahold of the pretender's hand and following in Jarod's footsteps. "Let's hope there is a nice warm shower at the end of this yellow brick road."

They only made it twenty steps.

Jarod flinched as the car lights were simultaneously turned on. His eyes widened in shock, as he spotted Lyle about 20 feet directly in front of them, with what seemed like a small army of sweepers and about five vehicles behind him. At least twenty guns were directly pointed at himself and Lysander. Jarod glanced sideways desperately, scouting avenues for escape. There were none. They were trapped.

The twin slowly approached the pair, who were still hand in hand, sarcastically applauding at a tantalizing slow rate. "What a touching moment. You two really should get a book deal. People just eat that kind of angst up." Lyle brought a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. "They are here." He said smugly, not taking his eyes off the two runaways in front of him.

Jarod threw a panicked look at Lysander. "I'm so sorry." He whispered remorsefully, hoping Lyle couldn't overhear him. The predictor's face had paled about five shades whiter as she looked fearfully at their soon to be capturers.

"What can we do Jarod?" She questioned brokenly, dropping his hand.

Lyle saved him from responding. "Nothing, you will both do absolutely nothing."

Lyle made a big show of sniffing as he reached the pair. "How much money have we invested in you Jarod, and this is the best you can come up with? Escape by sewage? We expect better things from you."

Jarod concentrated on hiding his emotions, ignoring the barbs from Lyle. There was no way that they should have known about this escape route. He had stared at the blueprints for hours before piecing it together. Travel through three unconnected tunnels. There was no way they could predicted this. If only he had paid better attention to his earlier anxiety over Lyle's absence. How could they have known? For the first time in his life, Jarod was utterly stunned.

"I can't wait to see how the Africans are going to react, when they find out you tried to pull a fast one over them, Jarod. I can't imagine them taking kindly to being manipulated for personal gain." Lyle continued. Jarod was so tempted to wipe the smug grin of the man's face, so tempted, yet so unable.

Lyle stopped directly in front of Jarod, as the sweepers slowly surrounded the two subjects.

"You see Jarod, from the moment we reacquired you, we enlisted another pretender to track your every move. His eyes have been on you since day one. We've known every time you have lied, everytime you have misled us, every time you withheld information. It really makes moments like this special."

Jarod did nothing but stand there in silence. He felt paralyzed, knowing that if he spoke one word, took one step, he would lose what little control he had over himself. Inwardly he was cursing himself for being bested. He always chided the Center for their overconfidence, but in the end, it was his own smugness that was his downfall, and this time he had taken another victim down with him.

Jarod flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder with the simultaneous clicks of three guns that he didn't doubt were pointed at his head. He looked over at Lysander, as she attempted to shrug off the sweepers, taking a step forward.

Lyle chuckled, turning his attention to her. "I heard we had a fighter."

Lysander glanced at him coolly, overwhelmingly conscious of the way his eyes were raking over her body. Lyle shook his head, feigning disappointment. "Always the same; all talk, no action." He took a step back. "Restrain them." He ordered firmly.

Jarod focused on the ground in front of him as he felt the cold metal against his left wrist, letting out a painful grunt as his right arm was roughly tugged back.

"Playtime is over boys and girls, it's time to go home." Lyle ordered as Lysander was restrained in a similar fashion. Two arms grabbed Jarod's two biceps, awkwardly careening him forward.

"We really must thank you for your help Jarod." Lyle continued mockingly, obviously enjoying the pretender's stunned silence, as Jarod was roughly escorted towards the waiting cargo van.

"We started your stock market program today, and I hear it's having wonderful success. The Triumvirate believes Corporation Zero will become one of their precious assets by the end of the month. Imagine the good they'll be able to do with a facility like this! As they say, the show must go on."

As the doors were pulled open to the awaiting cargo van, Lyle patted Jarod's shoulder mockingly as he grabbed the pretender's chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "Africa beckons, for both of you. There will be no escape this time." Turning to the predictor behind him he added "Fortunately there is still a little playtime left before you two are shipped across the Atlantic. I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

Jarod roughly yanked his head out of Lyle's grip, not caring as the sweepers pushed him forward into the van. His legs were shackled to the van floor, the chain to his handcuffs carefully secured to the van wall behind him. He watched as Lysander was pushed into the van behind him, secured in an identical fashion.

Lyle examined the two carefully. "Gag them. I don't want them sharing anymore bedtime stories on the way to the safehouse."

The sweepers quickly responded to the twin's command before slamming the door shut on the pair. Lysander knocked her head back against the van wall in frustration, fighting the urge to release the tears that were building up. She had done enough of that tonight. Tears were weakness, and she didn't have the luxury to be anything but strong. It was cruel, tasting freedom after what she had experienced, only to have it so quickly snatched away.

She focused her attention on Jarod. Never in her life had she seen such despair in someone's eyes. Then again if someone handed her a mirror, she knew she would be holding the same look of desolation.

This round clearly went to the Centre.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURED LOWER LEVEL

Jarod stood miserably under the stream of cold water, washing the last of the sewer grime from his body, fully conscious of the four pairs of eyes that were trained on him. Jarod had long given up on the idea of modesty, but it didn't make his lack of privacy any easier to bear.

"Time's up Jarod." One of the sweepers announced. Jarod rolled his eyes, as if he would stay under the stream of cold water for a second longer than necessary. He finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair before shutting off tap.

He walked over to the bench near his discarded clothing which lay a few feet away, looking longingly at his watch. Time and date were not concepts that were permitted in his existence at the Center.

Jarod glanced over at the four sweepers before quickly drying off, hesitating briefly before putting on his Center issued garments.

They didn't bother restraining him, as his cell lay only a bit further down the hall, instead two sweepers grabbed each of Jarod's arms, pulling him outside into the hallway. Outside, Lyle was waiting with Lysander and three sweepers of his own. Jarod instantly felt remorseful about complaining about his own lack of privacy, for whatever dignity he lost by being 'supervised' in the showers, it certainly was significantly worse for Lysander.

"Sweet dreams Jarod." Lyle mocked, as he nodded to the sweepers to escort Lysander into the shower blocks, following suit. Jarod attempted to twist around to catch a glimpse of Lys, but the grips on his arms were too strong. Silently he allowed himself to be led into his cell.

"What no dinner?" Jarod complained only half sincerely as he was pushed onto the bed, and promptly restrained. The chains were loose enough that he could at least lie down, but useless beyond that. "I'll take that as no." He muttered under his breath, as his stomach gave a rumble in protest. He hadn't eaten anything since this morning, and the remains of that had long been burned off scrambling through air vents.

Jarod gave a frustrated tug with his arms as the sweepers left him alone in the cell. The chains served no purpose, other to reiterate the fact that he was back under their control. Closing his eyes, Jarod's began to replay the day in his head. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Never in his life would he have suspected that the Center would bring in another pretender to analyze his work. He had seriously underestimated them. He realized now the only reason the Triumvirate had agreed to his simulation was because they already had their insurance that he wouldn't be getting away.

Parker had tried to warn him but unfortunately he had interpreted her threats as status-quo 'huntress-prey' role playing. Then again, she hadn't done anything to give him any indication she was doing any but that. Jarod had to wonder if she had actually been trying to warn him, or had only put on enough of a performance that she could ignore any guilt she might have felt when he was recaptured. That was Parker, one second you thought you had her figured out, the next, things were spiraling out of control. Jarod was trying so hard to believe that there was still part of that little girl that was his oxygen inside his oppressive world in the Center, but the more she fought him, the more he began to realize that perhaps they to had stolen her soul. He mentally replayed the conversation he'd had with Parker before he had slipped into the access tunnel with Sam.

"I just can't picture my life without you."

"Do, what I think you are planning to do, and I swear to you Jarod, you will never see me again."

She couldn't have meant that… could she have?

Then again, she'd already done it once already in their lifetime.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURED LOWER LEVEL – CELL D

Lysander sat miserably on the small cot in the cell she had been placed in after her shower. She carefully studied the chains can kept her prisoner to the bed. It was becomingly alarmingly obvious that it didn't matter where she was kept, the Conglomerate, the Corporation, the Center, they were all the same. It felt that every minute of her life was so carefully orchestrated to remind her of exactly where she stood in this world. The more she tried to stand, the more they forced her down. She was so tired of fighting, but giving in, was not an option.

Lysander felt herself retreating, back to the place where she didn't care about what happened to her, where she didn't feel desires, where she didn't dwell over the past. Her already fragile psyche was dangerously close to a total system failure.

At least Alex was dead. She couldn't understand how Jarod could even feel a fiber of remorse at that man's fallen corpse. People like him didn't deserve to breath, people like him, and Mr. Lyle. She had felt Lyle's eyes on her slim form in the shower, his eyes held the same hunger that she had seen so often in Alex. Could she survive again? She shuddered as her memories of Alex plunged to the surface. No, she couldn't let them surface now. She had to be strong.

It had frightened Lys, opening up to Jarod, as it forced her to realize how much she had been repressing, how much pain was truly hidden behind her mask of strength. Alex had been very close to pushing her over the edge, shattering her. How much longer could she hold on?

Lys was well aware that every minute that passed, brought her one step closer to the impeding transfer to Africa. She couldn't go there. She had seen the eyes of those who had returned from the evil grasp of the Triumvirate, and they had held nothing but emptiness. She wouldn't be destroyed like that. She would destroy herself before they could ever destroy her. She wouldn't become the next Alex.

She had fought so hard for nearly two decades. Her mom was gone, her best friend was gone, and now her last real hope of escape was gone. Face it – her life was gone, if she'd even really had much of one to begin with.

Maybe it was time for her check out.

Lying down on the cot, Lysander looked up the ceiling, almost smiling. She was done with this miserable existence.

After all, what was the point?

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURITY ROOM, UPPER LEVEL

Parker stared emptily into the security monitors of the two people locked up below, but in reality, she had eyes only for Jarod.

She had watched stoically for an hour as the pretender had stared blankly at the wall. She knew him well enough to know he was deep in thought, but was keeping his emotions hidden from the cameras. "What have you done Jarod?" Parker muttered under her breath.

Contrary to what some believed, there had been no real definite point in time that Miss Parker had written Jarod out of her life when she was growing up. Her father had sent her away to boarding school, and as her mask of indifference was developed, the few warm memories of her childhood at the Center faded – Jarod along with them.

The first summer after she had returned from boarding school, she had immediately sought out her old friend. However she had found his room completely deserted. Only a few of Jarod's sketches remained on the wall, but the amount of dust that had accumulated on the small desk led Parker to the conclusion that the room had been abandoned. She had made her way to the simlab, only to find it carefully guarded by one of her father's sweepers. Her access to Jarod, was more or less cut off.

Parker now realized that Jarod had been transferred out of the children's wing to the more secure accommodations on SL-21, where he would spend the rest of his existence in the Centre. She also didn't doubt that her father hadn't had something to do with it, as Jarod who had been a few years away from shaving at that point in time, obviously hadn't required the extra 'restrictions' that existed for residents on that floor. Mr. Parker had despised her friendship with Jarod so much so that she was essentially forbidden to mention the pretender's name in his presence. It was no secret he wanted Jarod out of Miss Parker's life. She now realized her father had done everything in his power to ensure that happened. At least this time, it would be on her terms.

Parker had kept on living as her friend remained locked up in the bowels of the Center. Boarding school, summer trips to Europe, university exchange to Japan. The months had soon turned to years, the years quickly spanning more than a decade. With each passing experience, her memories of Jarod became more and more diluted, until it was simply easier just to forget. If she'd forgotten then – she'd be able to forget now.

A subtle throat clearing brought her back to reality. Miss Parker looked behind her to find Broots standing hesitantly behind her.

"The car's ready Miss Parker." The tech stated, looking at the monitors.

"Then what are we waiting for Broots?" She questioned impatiently.

The tech sighed. "I know this isn't any of my business Miss Parker, but why are we leaving now? Why aren't we flying back with Jarod? You're just going to leave him here alone with Mr. Lyle?"

Parker glared at the tech threateningly. She had booked the two on a commercial flight back to Dover. Sydney had not been invited down to Texas, and had likely already returned to the Center. "You're right, it isn't any of your business. Jarod is a big boy – he'll manage."

"I know Miss Parker – but.."

"But what Broots? If I were you, I would forget about Jarod."

"He saved our lives Miss Parker. How can I forget something like that?" The tech fired back.

"In seventy-two hours Jarod will be on a one-way airplane to the Congo. Remember whatever goodwill he may have done for you, but once he's gone, Jarod will not be coming back. At least not the Jarod we know. Now do me a favour Broots, and never mentioned his name to me again." Parker sneered, before exiting the room.

Broots turned sympathetically to the security monitor in front of him. He had an important email to send, not forgetting the promise he had made a few long weeks ago.

"I need you to send an email for me."

"I can't Jarod! The triumvirate is monitoring every communication that comes in and out of this building and dissecting every individual character."

"Not now Broots. I need you to do this if …. If I'm returned to the Center after this is all said and done."

He would do it. Jarod needed him.

AUSTIN, TEXAS - PRIVATE AIR STRIP

Jarod stood between the two sweepers that held onto his biceps.He wore a belt around his waist which held the two chains that kept his arms and legs shackled together.

The Center jet had landed moments ago; its temporary grounding had now been lifted. Corporation Zero was no longer a physical threat. They were likely licking their wounds caused by losing the three assets they had gone to such lengths to acquire. With the death of Alex, they had lost their last source of reliable 'insider' information, and would now be focusing their efforts at fighting the financial battle that Jarod's stock manipulation software was raging on them.

Jarod had not seen Lysander that morning. He had hoped that he would at least catch a glimpse of the woman whose life was in terrible turmoil because of his stupidity, but he knew any communication between the two would be forbidden. He would be kept in strict isolation until they tried to move him to Africa.

Jarod's stomach sank as the staircase from the jet was lowered to reveal a gleeful looking Mr. Raines. As much as he detested Mr. Parker, the man had always been a reasonable chairman, and had been most likely sheltered Jarod from most of the unnecessary abuse Raines had wanted to inflict upon the pretender. Even if Mr. Parker had only seen Jarod in the form of dollar signs on the Centre balance sheet, he realized that tormenting the young pretender, would only hurt overall revenues and thus had kept Raines on a very short leash. However now Raines was in charge, Mr. Parker was MIA and assumed dead since he had taken the scrolls and leaped into oblivion over Morocco. Despite Lyle's torturous nature, Jarod feared Raines as Chairman far more. Raines was admittedly the only person in the Center who truly wanted Jarod dead.

Jarod knew he had determined his own fate in Raines' eyes when he had failed to bring home the man's daughter safely. Whatever resentment Raines harbored before that terrible day, had been significantly worse after Annie's murder. It hadn't matter that Jarod had tried; how petrified he had been to simulate the killer, Jarod's efforts just hadn't been in time; he had failed. Even Jarod wondered to this day, if he had hesistated less, would they have gotten to Annie in time to save her?

Jarod watched carefully as the old man wheeled his oxygen tank over to the pretender.

"Ready to go home Jarod?" The now chairman wheezed.

Jarod suppressed a sarcastic reply that threatened to escape. Talking would only get him into trouble. Instead he gave Raines what he knew he wanted – he bowed his head in submission.

The former doctor chuckled, before turning to face Lyle, who had made his way over to the group. "Where is your sister?"

Lyle shrugged. "She elected to take a commercial flight back last night, something about managing the second phase of our electronic war against Corporation Zero."

Jarod shot his head up at hearing this, a movement that did not go unobserved by Lyle.

"Between you and me, I think our boy here finally managed to seriously piss her off. She wanted nothing to do with either of them when they were 'reacquired' last night." The twin continued, focusing his stare on the pretender.

"Do, what I think you are planning to do, and I swear to you Jarod, you will never see me again."

She really was going to try and write him out then. Jarod, conscious of Lyle's eyes upon him, struggled to maintain a neutral expression on his face. He could not let them see he cared, could not give them any indication of how much they really could use her against him. He had to keep it together.

Raines nodded, scanned the airfield. "Where is the second subject?"

Jarod glared at Raines, although grateful at the distraction. "She has a name."

Lyle smirked. "It was rather combative this morning. We were forced to sedate her so she's sleeping it off in the van." Lyle stepped over to Jarod, patting the pretender on his shoulder, enjoying the flinch he felt as his hand made contact. "Never thought I would see the day when Jarod was the compliant one." Jarod shifted his weight, attempting to shrug Lyle's hands off him, but the sweepers held him firmly in place.

"Just get them secured on the airplane." Raines ordered.

Jarod took a deep breath as he was pulled forward, the chains on his ankles making it difficult to keep up with the sweepers. Somehow he managed to make it up the small staircase without tripping, where he was roughly pushed into a seat.

Jarod was aware that Raines had followed closely behind them.

"Hold him." He commanded to the two sweepers after they had fastened Jarod's seatbelt.

Jarod watched with untrusting eyes as Raines pulled out a syringe, and filled it with a clear liquid.

"What's that for?" He questioned the former doctor, although he already knew. The Centre didn't have a good track record keeping him in custody on airplanes, and he knew he had a date with some very strong sedatives.

"Our insurance policy." Was the wheezed reply.

Jarod's face darkened, he wasn't going to make this easy for them. He feigned compliance until Raines was in striking distance, lashing out with his feet. He was rewarded with a grunt as Raines stumbled backwards, one of the sweepers at Jarod's side rushing to help the chairman.

Once steadied on his feet, Raines glared evilly at Jarod. "Do it." He ordered.

Jarod sucked in a breath as he was roughly backhanded by the sweeper to his left. He met Raines' angry eyes with a defiant glare. He knew what he was doing was pointless, but it was just so satisfying.

"You will learn Jarod. No one fights the Centre and wins. Not even you." The wheezing man promised, carefully sidestepping Jarod's legs as he approached the pretender again with the dreaded syringe.

Jarod broke eye contact. "I've been doing just fine for the past six years."

"Is that was mommy thinks?" Raines returned, obviously referring to the one thing Jarod had failed to accomplish with his freedom – find his mother. Jarod refused to return the barb as the former doctor pulled his sleeve up, jabbing the needle into Jarod's upper arm.

"Sweet dreams" was the last sentence Jarod heard as closed his eyes and waited for the drug to carry him to oblivion.

CENTRE CORPORATE JET – IN FLIGHT EN ROUTE TO DOVER

"Is the girl secured?" Raines questioned Lyle as he emerged from the back of the airplane.

The twin smiled. "She's not going anywhere. We topped up her sedative, so I highly doubt either her or Jarod will regain consciousness until well after we have returned them to the Centre."

Raines nodded his approval. "The Triumvirate wishes to escort them personally to Africa. They will be sending a jet in three days. They have also ordered full psychiatric and medical exams to be done on both of them."

Lyle scowled. "And let me guess, Sydney is the only one qualified to reside in the latter."

"Despite my warnings, the Triumvirate remains oblivious to Sydney's personal attachment to Jarod. They believe he is in the best position to adequately quantify what is going on in the heads of those two."

Lyle snorted. "I can only imagine what goes on inside Jarod's demented psyche. Besides why do they care what those two are feeling? A little 'boo-hoo I want my mommy? How is that going to get anyone anywhere?"

"Re-education." Raines replied evenly.

Lyle smirked. "They want to define their boundaries."

Raines nodded. "They don't want another disaster like Alex." After Alex had failed to escape alongside Jarod and Edward, he had been shipped over to Africa, as had been originally planned. His already dark mind had subsequently been so scrambled to the point he had killed his own parents just to escape the hold the Triumvirate had on him – driving the former pretender to complete madness.

There was a fine line between genius and insanity, and Raines knew that each of their inmates balanced preciously between the two. The Triumvirate had learned their lesson with Alex, and would be trying a new approach with Jarod and Lysander. Jarod for all of his morality, had exhibited flashes of the same darkness Raines had fed into and encouraged in his own subjects. As much as the pretender liked to protest – he really wasn't much different from Alex, from Kyle, even from Lyle.

While he didn't have an exact idea of what the Africans were planning for the two defiant subjects, he had to smile at the thought of a broken Jarod. The pretender had had it coming to him for a long time. And then – Jarod would be his. As far as Raines was concerned, they couldn't get him on that plane to Africa fast enough.

THE CENTRE – TECH ROOM

Broots smiled in satisfaction as he finished typing the small coded message he had committed to memory days ago. Pressing the send button, he prayed that he had put enough electronic barriers in place to avoid alerting the wrong people to the exact meaning of this message.

"Broots." A calm accented voice sounded, causing the poor tech to jump out of his chair.

"Oh god Sydney." He cried, clutching his chest.

The psychiatrist raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Sometimes he wondered how Broots, who was so terribly transparent, had managed to regularly deceive Raines and Lyle through the years.

"What can I do for you Sydney?" The tech questioned kindly, guessing the older man was out digging for information about Jarod. It had not been well received when Sydney had been forbidden to accompany the group down to Texas. The man had argued, borderline begged Parker to go with Jarod, but there was no convincing them. When it came to keeping Jarod in Centre custody, Sydney was a liability. They had wanted him as far away from the pretender as possible for the 'reacquisition of Lysander', as Lyle had phrased it.

The shrink just smiled sadly, "Jarod" was his one worded reply.

Broots looked around nervously. "Maybe we should go out to one of biotracts Sydney?" The older man nodded his approval, and the two made idle chitchat as they worked their way up the maze of sublevels to the ground floor.

"It's not good Sydney." Broots admitted once the two were safely out of audio range.

"Apparently there was another pretender at Aquastar the entire time we were there. He was just watching Jarod, analyzing his every move."

Henrik's presence had been kept a secret from Sydney and Broots for their entire tenure at the complex. Broots had been informed of Henrik's presence only when he had been forced to provide tech support to Lyle's retrieval mission.

"Jarod was planning on escaping." The shrink said simply.

"You knew?" Broots questioned.

Sydney let out a slight laugh. "Even with what little interaction you have had with Jarod over the past few years, can you honestly tell me you didn't even consider the possibility he would be using this scenario for his own benefit, as much as ours?"

Broots gazed thoughtfully at the psychiatrist. "The thought did cross my mind. But with the way Miss Parker was acting, I never thought the Centre was on to it."

"What happened Broots?" The shrink pressed, almost desperately.

"The other pretender, Henrik, he knew where Jarod was going, what he was trying to do. Jarod walked straight into Lyle's trap. Both him, and Lysander were brought back to the safehouse last night. Mr. Raines took the jet this morning to pick them up, I think they are expected later this tonight."

"Why are you back now Broots?"

"Miss Parker, well she was adamant that we return last night. We took a commercial flight into Dover. I've never seen her like this Sydney." The tech responded truthfully.

"What do you mean Broots?" The older man pressed, concern obvious in his voice.

"I mean, I've seen her angry at Jarod before, but this is different. She told me to forget about him; to erase his existence from my mind. It's like she just wants to wipe Jarod from her life!"

Syndey shook his head sadly as the tech continued. "Rumour has it the Triumvirate is coming here within days to personally escort Lysander and Jarod to their complex. They'll be gone by the end of the week."

"Broots– I need to get in to see him. They'll be keeping him in strict isolation, but it's imperative." The psychiatrist begged.

"I don't know Sydney. They were preparing the security this morning in the tech room. The feed to their rooms was placed on a different server, controlled out of Africa. Even if I could manipulate it.. I just can't. It's too dangerous."

The psychiatrist turned away in frustration.

"I'm sorry Sydney. Jarod doesn't deserve this." The tech offered.

Sydney started to respond, but was cut off as he cell phone rang.

"This is Sydney."

Broots knew just by watching the psychiatrist's features that this was definitely an unexpected call.

"It's true." The shrink said to the mysterious called. "He'll be arriving later today." The call was unmistakably about Jarod. Broots observed curiously as Sydney checked his watch

"Six hours from now. Are you sure it's safe?" The psychiatrist listened intently for about thirty seconds before adding "Why are you trusting me?" Sydney turned away from Broots, conscious of the tech's eyes upon him.

"Understood. I'll be there."

"Who was that Sydney?" Broots questioned as the older man disconnected the call. The psychiatrist studied him intently for several seconds. "That was Jarod's father. Apparently he just received an email informing him that Jarod was perhaps in our care."

Broots looked away guiltily as Sydney flashed him a knowing look. "He gave me my daughter Sydney. I owe him."

"We all do Mr. Broots." The psychiatrist countered.

Broots look up at Sydney, resignation on his face. "So where are we going to be in six hours?"

THE CENTRE – SL-26: ISOLATION BLOCK 'D'

Jarod sighed heavily. He was back in the same decrepit cell Lyle had left him during his last stay with Centre, they had quickly figured out, he couldn't get out while locked up in here.

He had woken up here; his last memory was of Raines standing over him gleefully as Jarod had slipped into the drug induced oblivion on the plane. It unnerved him greatly, not knowing exactly what had transpired as his unconscious self had been transported across the continent. By the bruises that he had found on his legs when he woke up, the sweepers hadn't been entirely gentle with his prone form.

Shortly after he had groggily regained consciousness, Jarod had been escorted to the infirmary, and subjected to a detailed physical examination. He had been poked, prodded, measured and sampled for what had seemed like hours.

Jarod ran his fingers through his now short hair. After leaving the infirmary, he had been escorted to some dark room and removed of his last sense of personal flare. He now wore the same cropped hair style he had been given for his entire life. Between that and his black inmate uniform, they might as well brand 'property of the center' on his back, not that he would share that thought with anyone. Lyle would probably find it an entertaining idea.

Jarod had been escorted back here, and left alone for the rest of the day. The silence was making him nervous. He had expected Lyle down here, to taunt him, and any moment he was positive Sam would be down to 'exact his revenge' on the pretender for leaving the sweeper bound in the access tunnel at Corporation Zero. However no one had came, and while his already bruised body welcomed the physical respite, his mind was screaming warnings. Being ignored at the Center, especially when considered their prize catch of the day, was never a good thing. Jarod almost could swear that he could hear Lyle and Raines plotting their next moves in the tower.

And then there was Lysander. A pang of guilt attacked Jarod every time he allowed his thoughts to turn to her. His heart went out to the woman. He had only been four when he had been cruelly stolen from his family, old enough to remember some things, but young enough to mostly forget. However he knew from what information had not been censored out of the copy of Lys's file he had been given, that she had been stolen when she was sixteen. The strength she must have to have dealt with her captivity given she could so firmly remember everything that was denied to her when inside their cage. Jarod shuddered as he thought of sixteen more years in the Centre, given everything he knew. He was not confident he would have what was required to survive.

Jarod had shown her the stars, and then cruelly taken it away.

Jarod flinched as the door leading to the room to which his barred cell was located, squeaked open. It was finally time. He stayed lying on his cot, feigning disinterest.

"New friend needs help." Jarod nearly jumped out of his skin as the garbled voice of Angelo sounded.

He rushed to the bars that separated him from the empath.

"Angelo!" He cried happily.

The empathy frowned. "No Time. Go to girl. New friend needs help." Jarod stared in wonder as the empath handed him a screwdriver.

The pretender studied the manhole behind him. He had tried that way last time he was locked in here, it led to nothing but a chain-linked dead end.

"I can't get out that way Angelo. I was caught last time." Jarod said desperately.

"Not out – go to girl. She's fading!" The empath rambled.

"Lysander, she is in trouble?" Jarod questioned.

Angelo nodded furiously, again thrusting the screwdriver in Jarod's hand before adding.

"Revisit the past."

Jarod grasped the screwdriver, considering the empath's words momentarily, panic growing in him. "They are keeping her in my old room?" He asked, trying to make sense of Angelo's disconnected sentences.

"Hurry! Soul is fading!!"

Jarod hesitated, glancing at the camera in the corner of his cell, not entirely surprised to see the absence of the red blinking light.

"Way is safe. Angelo take care of friend."

Jarod scurried over to the manhole cover, quickly unscrewing the bolts that held it in place. He slipped the tool into the waistband of his pants. It could come in useful later.

"Thank you Angelo." The pretender added gratefully, before disappearing into the vent system.

He made it half way to his old room when the alarm bells sounded.

THE CENTRE – SL-21: CORRIDOR B – Jarod's Old Room

Jarod peered cautiously into Lysander's room, half expecting to see a dozen sweepers waiting for him. It was unexpectedly empty. Taking a deep breath he pushed the vent out before lowering himself to the ground. He forced all thoughts of what Lyle and Raines would dream up for him if he was caught in here out of his head.

Jarod's eyes found Lysander's form instantly. She was curled up on the bed, seemingly oblivious to his presence. They had her chained to its metal frame, bound at hand and foot, probably as a result of the piercing alarm that was sounding in the building. Jarod's confidence increased as he saw that Angelo had seemingly disabled the camera in Lys's cell, the red blinking light thankfully absent. For all that Raines had scrambled the poor man's head, the empath was incredibly gifted. Jarod prayed the Centre would never find out the depth of Angelo's deception.

"Lys." He whispered urgently, his panic growing as she failed to respond.

Jarod ran over the bed, turning Lysander onto her back, instantly noticing her breath was deeply laboured. He looked around desperately, his eyes widening in horror as he caught sight of brown pill bottle that had been concealed under the woman's curled up form.

"Lys!" He yelled, shaking her form harshly. He was rewarded as she moaned. "Ja-rod." She croaked; her tone barely audible.

Jarod grabbed the pill bottle, his panic increasing as he read the label for a very strong form of a sedative. He could only assume she had visited the infirmary as he had, and managed to swipe the bottle.

"How many did you take?" He questioned.

"Please…….please……just…..let…me…go…"Lys barely managed to whisper, before slipping out of consciousness once again.

Jarod shook her violently. "Lys!!" He felt around for her pulse. It was alarmingly irregular.

"Please Lys. You can fight this. We'll get out of this, I promise. You can't give up. I won't let you." Jarod grabbed her hand, flinching at its ice cold touch. "We'll find a way to be safe. Please, just don't give up."

Jarod took a deep breath as he dropped her hand, walking over to the door.

"I'm sorry." He whispered before he began pounding on it frantically, praying she would forgive him when all was said and done. He couldn't let her give up.

THE CENTRE – SL-21: CORRIDOR B – Jarod's Old Room

"What's this – a rat out of its cage?" Lyle yelled as he rushed into Lysander's room, his attention instantly focused on Jarod, who was held firmly in place by two sweepers.

The pretender ignored him, instead watching as the medical team placed Lys's unconscious form on the waiting stretcher. One of the medics attending to her rushed up to Lyle. "Sir – this was found with her. If that bottle was full, I don't think I need to warn you about the likely outcome."

The twin swore under his breath. "Who was the idiot who secured her after the alarm was sounded due to our boy genius over here?"

"Mr. Lyle, she was awake. She glared at us as we attached the shackles." One of the sweepers holding Jarod offered desperately.

Jarod felt his stomach flopped as Lyle met his eyes with a murderous gaze. "And let me guess, you just conveniently happened to be in the neighbourhood when she did this. What, did you two make some sort of Romeo and Juliet pact?"

Jarod squirmed under the sweeper's hold. "No! I …" Jarod stopped himself before he gave away Angelo's involvement. "I just had a feeling." He finished, forcing calmness into his tone.

"You had 'a' feeling." Lyle sneered. "Do you think I'm really that stupid Jarod?"

The pretender looked away.

"Sir– we found this in the air vent." Jarod grimaced as the screwdriver Angelo had given him was handed over to Lyle.

The twin cocked his head. "Who helped you Jarod?"

The pretender desperately tried to shake himself out of the sweepers' hold.

"I…"he started lamely, he was unable to focus, his fear for Lysander overwhelming him.

Lyle handed the screwdriver back to the sweeper. "Fingerprint it."

Lyle stormed over to Jarod, body slamming the pretender against the wall. "Why do I feel I'm going to find Angelo's fingerprints all over it?"

Jarod looked at the floor.

The twin stepped back satisfactorily, before turning back to the sweeper that held the screwdriver. "If you find Angelo's prints on it, which I suspect you will, I want him shot dead on sight. I've had enough of that circus freakshow."

"NO!" Jarod cried, sinking to the floor in desperation. "He was just trying to save her life."

"Yeah, and just call me the King of Thailand." Lyle responded sarcastically. "I've been looking for an excuse to get rid of that thing for years Jarod. You just handed me one, gift-wrapped and under the tree."

Jarod met Lyle's stare with pleading eyes. "It was my idea – please, Angelo was just trying to help."

"You chose her life over his Jarod the moment you left your cell." Lyle replied meanly before instructing the sweepers. "Put him away, and make sure he doesn't have the capability to leave if someone bombs a hole in his wall." The twin gave Jarod a dangerous glare.

"This is far from over." He promised, before exiting the room, ignoring the pretender's desperate cries.

CENTRE INFIRMARY

Lysander groaned as reality welcomed her back. She tentatively opened her left eye, fearful of what would await her. She was awarded with the unmistakable fluorescent glare of industrial lights.

Welcome back to the living.

She could remember little of what had happened. During her medical exam, Lys had stolen a bottle of carelessly discarded sedatives, and return them undetected to her cell. Bras apparently did have a purpose. She had taken the entire bottle, before moving the bed, hoping any onlookers would believe she was just in a deep sleep. She also remembered an ear-piercing screeching sound, and flashes of Jarod. Had he been the one who had condemned her back to life?

When Lysander had been thirteen years old, one of her dearest friends had tried to commit suicide. It had been a rough year for the poor girl, her mother had passed away from cancer and Lys had always suspected the father was physically abusive. Never the less, it hadn't been a very successful attempt, as the girl had simply swallowed a cocktail of what she found in her dad's medicine cabinet. They had pumped her stomach, and then Lys had sat at her bedside, waiting for her friend to come back to life.

Lys distinctly remembered the look on her friend's face as she came back from her oblivion; tears had instantly flowed from the girl's eyes. Lys could find no words of comfort, instead had just opted to hold her friend's hand. They had sat like that for hours. That moment had haunted her ever since that terrible day. Lys had never stopped imagining what it would be like to work up the courage to close the book on life, only to wake up and find yourself surrounded by the same consuming pain. She had concluded one would feel incredibly trapped, almost suffocated by the knowledge that you didn't even have the power to leave. She also had promised herself that no matter how much crap life would throw at her, she would never be weak enough to try and opt out prematurely. Funny how some things change.

Lys let her eyes wander slowly over the room. Everything was a blinding, sterile white, like they were trying to neutralize the raw emotions that were screaming beneath the surface. Colour was not part of her world. Looking down, Lys was not entire shocked to find herself in padded shackles, unable to move either of her hands and feet more than a few inches. There would be no comforting moments for her, no friends to hold her hand as she coped with the pain. Instead they would probably try and punish her for this. Her thoughts turned to Conrad, her former handler at the Conglomerate, he had been a victim to the war she had been unwillingly been made a key player in. As much as he had tormented her, Lys missed the familiarity. She almost wished he could be here, just to yell at her. Anything would be better than this sterile white room, with it's complete and utter silence. Talk about freaking Stockholm syndrome.

The door to the small infirmary room was opened, and an elderly looking gentleman walked in hesitantly. Lysander met his eyes with a cool glare, only to soften her features slightly as she realized that the man didn't wear the same hard scowl that her keepers typically did.

"Lysander– My name is Sydney."

"What do you want?" She questioned uncaringly.

"I'm just here to talk." The older man replied evenly.

" I've been locked up enough to know everyone wants something. Idle chit chat, not something that's on been on my allowed activity list. Please don't insult my intelligence with a silver-plated lie. Now what do you really want?"Lysander returned bitterly.

Sydney sighed patiently. The rumours had said that the predictor was incredibly spirited and she hadn't disappointed him. He had seen passion like hers with only two other in his lifetime, one of them the man being held several sublevels below. "I'm a psychiatrist. I really do just want to talk. I've made a career out of it." He told the restrained woman.

Lysander rolled her eyes. "Is this one of those sessions where I'm supposed to get in touch with my feelings? No one has given a second thought to my feelings since I was kidnapped two decades ago. You can't expect me to believe that because I popped a bottle of pills that things will be all hugs and puppies from now on, especially when I wake up like this." Lys added, giving a tug on her arm restraints in protest.

Sydney shook his head slightly, but decided to be fully honest with the woman before him.

"Ok. In truth, I'm here because the Triumvirate has demanded a full psych examination be done on you and -" the shrink stopped himself.

Lysander studied him intently before finishing off his sentence. "Myself and Jarod. What, they want to know how far they can push us before we become Alex version 2.0? Yes, allow me to be of complete assistance in that department."

Sydney had to suppress a smile. "Have you considered the possibility that I might actually have your best interest in mind?" He challenged.

He was not disappointed. "Are you going to recommend that they turn me loose as a way to prevent further emotional scarring? They don't give a rat's ass about what's going on in my head, unless it prevents me from doing what I apparently do best. Sorry doc – my brain is the only left that belongs to me. I'll kill myself before I let them take it away."

"And think at how successful you were the first time you tried it Lysander." Lyle's sarcastic voice sounded from the doorway. "We won't allow you the opportunity to try again."

Lysander groaned inwardly, swearing she saw the psychiatrist standing beside her do the same. She lifted her head laboriously, catching a glimpse of the dangerous man, with three sweepers behind him, holding an empty wheelchair, padded restraints opened at the ready on its small frame.

"What, coming to escort me to the loonie ward?" She spat sarcastically before turning her head away from the group.

"Lyle I was ordered to do a complete psychiatric exam on her." Sydney protested. "Besides she's in no condition to be moved. She still has an IV in for goodness sakes."

"Save it Sydney. I've sure you've seen enough to stumble your way through the report the Africans want. She is just a pain in the ass that will do anything for a little attention." The twin smirked at the predictor before him. "Don't worry dear, we won't be taking our eyes off of you until you get on that plane in two days." He finished.

Lys couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or threatening her, likely a combination of the two. She remained silent as the sweepers came to her bedside, lifting her out from under the blanketed warmth, before securing her in the wheelchair. Lys shivered, not sure if from the coldness that enveloped her, or her apprehension of what was to come next.

"Give me five minutes alone with her Lyle. I would hate to have to tell the Triumvirate about your interference." The psychiatrist threatened. Lyle glared insolently at the shrink before conceding.

"Fine Sydney, you can have your magical five minutes. However if I were you I would be more concerned about your boy downstairs. He's been rather inconsolable since he committed Angelo to a death sentence the other day. Which reminds me, have you see that creature lying around? You think with every gun in this place searching for him, someone would have put him out of his misery by now." Lyle taunted.

Sydney's face darkened, and Lysander could sense he was trying very hard to keep his emotions neutralized. "The Triumvirate also stipulated I was to complete an examination of Jarod." he reminded the twin.

"Relax Sydney, he's doing penance down on SL-26. He should be available by tomorrow morning. I'll have my people call yours." The twin chuckled, almost madly. "Enjoy the chat." He offered, patting Lysander on the shoulder, before exiting the room, his three sweepers following him out like lost puppies.

Sydney seemed lost in thought for a few moments, before he pulled himself together. "Who is Angelo?" Lysander questioned softly.

Sydney smiled down at the woman, he couldn't bear to tell her the truth about Angelo's role and ensuing condemnation regarding Lysander's suicide attempt. Despite her hard, sarcastic exterior, Sydney could feel the raw emotions that he so keenly sensed in Jarod. He wouldn't add more guilt to her already fragile psyche. Pushing his anxiety over Angelo out of his head, he crouched down to the predictor, now bound in the wheelchair. "He's no one you need to worry about right now." He offered kindly, but he knew from the doubt visible on Lysander's face, that she was not entirely buying his words.

"And Jarod?" She pressed on.

The psychiatrist studied the desperation in Lysander's eyes. "They were not thrilled to find him out of his room." He answered weakly, knowing she knew enough about Centre hierarchy to not need any more details. Not that he had any himself. Broots had frantically told him about the death warrant out on Angelo, coupled with rumors of Jarod being found in Lysander's cell around the same time the predictor had been taking to the infirmary for a suspected suicide attempt. He was incredibly fearful for his protégé, but the urgency of the situation required him to focus his efforts on saving Angelo. Not that the empath appeared to need any help, he had seemingly vanished from Centre radar.

"I begged him to let me go!" Lysander whispered, as her brief interaction with Jarod resurfaced in her memory. "Why couldn't he just have listened? We all would have been better off."

Sydney gently patted the women on her knee. "I can imagine that Jarod feels responsible for failing to get you away from the Centre. If he had done what you had requested, he would have felt your death was his fault."

"It wasn't his decision to make. It's my life." Lys remarked bitterly. "Tell me doctor, what would you do if you knew you had about two days, give or take, until your brain was going to be scrambled like tomorrow's breakfast omelet?"

Sydney didn't know what he could say to comfort the woman before him. Instead he reached out and grasped her left hand in his two, giving it a comforting squeeze.

THE CENTRE – CORPORATE WING

Miss Parker sighed contently, sipping her scotch. After years of chasing around the genius of year she was back where she belonged – the civilized world of corporate.

No guns – no games – no lies. Life was wonderful.

Her thoughts turned to Angelo. Although she had been avoiding her brother and Raines like the plague since she had fled the safehouse, the rumours had still managed to filter up to the Corporate wing. She was somehow surprised that neither Broots nor Sydney had tracked her down, begging her to do something. Not that she could, the name Parker no longer held the power it once did. Maybe they had finally realized that.

Parker didn't know why she cared so much, he was a freak. But he had shown them all so much kindness. She wondered how long he could hide away before one of the Centre's goon managed to put a bullet in his brain.

Fortunately Parker had learned the lesson her mother never managed to – you can't save them. It was much easier just to forget. The ghosts can't haunt you, if they don't exist in the first place.

Scotch on the other hand was a wonderful companion. It had always been there for her, thru Tommy's death, Jarod's endless torments, her father's disappearance, Raines' chairmanship.

Miss Parker was brought out of her thoughts as her office intercom sounded.

"What?" She grumbled at the secretary.

Her eyes widened slightly as she listened to the timid woman on the line. Raines wanted to see her. Anything concerning that ghoul was bad news.

THE CENTRE – SYDNEY's OFFICE

Sydney stared at the empty glass before him. He had kept a bottle of Johnny Walker in his desk for darker occasions. Given where he worked – he was surprised he hadn't crack into his stash more often.

He had to wonder, how had things gone so wrong?. When Jarod had first escaped, Sydney had been as eager to get him back as anyone had been. However his protégé had slowly made him aware of the lies, the degree of deception. Jarod belonged outside these walls, and Sydney had promised himself he would do whatever it takes to keep his protégé safe; Another empty promise. He couldn't get within hundred feet of Jarod's room without being escorted away by a sweeper.

Sydney and Broots had spent the last couple evenings working with Major Charles and Jay, Jarod's clone. Everything was in the hands of Jarod's family now – the last hope. He and the tech had provided much needed insider information, but Sydney himself was at a loss at exactly what the Major had planned. He only prayed that whatever it was, that they wouldn't fail. It was becoming blatantly obvious to him, that Jarod couldn't get out from where they were keeping him and the fact that the pretender had escaped the last two times had he been forced onto Centre aircraft, they would not be taking any chances. If Jarod reached that airplane – he would be lost to them all.

He couldn't bare the thought of Jarod being slowly destroyed.

"Mind if I join you?" Sydney looked up, surprised to see Miss Parker at his doorway. Another stab of guilt overcame him. After Broots had informed him about Parker's erratic behaviour at the safehouse, Sydney knew the younger woman was in pain. Parker had built up such powerful defenses, anger masking her true feelings. He had meant to go to her, but instead had been forced to focus his efforts on Jarod, on Lysander, on Angelo.

"Of course Miss Parker – please have a seat." The psychiatrist offered, handing her an empty glass. She poured herself a generous helping. "I can't believe you drink this crap Sydney."

"Considering its purpose, I find it unfitting to splurge on a more palatable brand." The shrink replied.

"Angelo?" Parker questioned tentatively.

The shrink shook his head. "There has been no sign of him."

Parker visibly relaxed. "What happened? His scrambled brain has been roaming these halls for years."

"Lysander managed to steal a lethal quantity of sedatives from the infirmary. Angelo must have sensed her desperation and from what I heard went immediately to Jarod, helping him escape the confines of his cell. Jarod alerted the sweepers, and the medical team was able to revive her."

Miss Parker smiled sadly. "Let me guess – Lyle was furious that Jarod had gotten out - nevermind that he had saved her life."

Sydney nodded. "I didn't know how he became privy to Angelo's involvement. I highly doubt Jarod would have confessed his involvement. Broots did some digging, and found out Lyle had sent in a screwdriver for fingerprint analysis. Angelo's prints were on it. I can only assume that is what Jarod used to get out of his cell."

Miss Parker sucked in her breath. "Do you think Angelo has ran away?"

Sydney shook his head. "I honestly don't think Angelo can survive on the outside. Even the few times he has left, he has always come back. The outside world can't understand him – I mean we created him and we barely do. This is all he knows."

Parker's eyes darkened. "The Africans are arriving tomorrow – but something tells me you likely already know that."

Sydney nodded.

Parker laughed a little. "Broots is very good at his job."

Sydney smiled, but remained silent, sensing Parker had more to say.

"I've been asked, sorry, I've been ordered to escort Jarod and Lysander to the airfield in two days. Apparently the Triumvirate requested me personally. They believe I'm the only one competent enough to see that those two get on that damn airplane without any incident."

Sydney closed his eyes, the turmoil present in the woman before him was clairvoyantly obvious. Her defenses were coming down.

Parker continued. "As far as I am concerned, I'm done with Jarod. I warned him not to pull that escape stunt, but he still did, losing whatever cards we had left in play to keep him on the continent."

"Miss Parker you can hardly blame him for trying to escape." Sydney interrupted.

"Save it Sydney. I'm not going to stand by watching as they slowly tear Jarod into pieces. As far I am concerned he's gone. I've forgotten, and so should you. It's easier this way, then trying to pick up the fragments that will be left if he gets sent back here."

The psychiatrist shook his head sadly.

"We were best friends once." Parker continued. "I don't even know how you would classify what we were the past six years. Huntress-Prey? Tormentee-Tormentor? Now I get to escort his sorry ass to his demise. This is twisted, even for the Centre."

Sydney searched desperately for words that could offer comfort to the woman before him, but he couldn't even find the words to comfort himself.

"Friend alone." Both Parker and Sydney shot up at the sound of Angelo's voice.

"Angelo, you have to go, it's not safe." Parker warned. The empath put up his hand, silencing her.

"Jarod alone. Need to know you still care."

"I'm done caring Angelo. Jarod's leaving, and he won't be coming back. At least not the Jarod I wish to know." Parker replied bitterly.

"Past doesn't hide." The empath returned, adding. "Daughter cares. Always has. Always will."

Parker turned to Sydney. "A little help please?" She said, her voice edgy. Sydney had to suppress a small smile. He personally thought Angelo was doing just fine on his own.

"Friend needs to know."

"Right Angelo - I'll just waltz over to Jarod and give him a big hug before I push him on that airplane and chain him down. That will get the message across."

The empathy shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Jarod understand. But Angel need to show him."

"Angelo, is there anything we can do to help you?" Sydney interjected, sensing Parker needed a moment to compose herself.

The empathy smiled sadly. "Time to go."

Sydney wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

Angelo walked over to where Miss Parker now sat, leaned over on the chair, massing her temple. He touched her face softly. Sydney was surprised when she didn't flinch away from the empath's gentle touch.

"Promise me. Only Daughter can save Jarod. Tell-him. Friend needs to know Angel still cares."

"I can't Angelo. The script was written for Jarod and I years ago. There is nothing left to be done, and after Jarod gets on that plane, I'll be the only character left. How's that for a happy ending?" Parker asked softly. Sydney could see her eyes were moist with unshed tears.

"Angel can do it. Angelo knows - Timmy knows."

Miss Parker studied the empath's face intently.

Angelo got up from his crouched position.

"Where will you go now Angelo?" Sydney questioned. "Where is your refuge?" He knew the empath would react to the use of Jarod's safeword.

Angelo shuddered. "No refuge for Angelo in here. No refuge for Angelo anywhere. Time to free Timmy." Instead of turning in the direction of the air vent where he came from, he moved towards the doorway.

"Angelo, you can't go there. Everyone is looking for you." Sydney stated. "Please let us help you."

Miss Parker shot up from her chair, as realization dawned on her. "He knows Sydney. He's trying to tell us it's his time. He wants to go."

"Free Timmy." The empath repeated.

"No Angelo, you can't be serious!" Parker pleaded. Since when had the Centre become the suicide capital of Delaware?

The empathy reapproached the woman before him. "Time for Timmy to be free. Angel has friend. Friend needs Angel."

"Sydney?" Parker asked, her voice breaking.

The psychiatrist found himself muted.

"Promise Timmy, Angel will help friend."

Parker stared at the floor brokenly. "I promise."

The empath smiled and continued on his path to the doorway.

"Angelo– NO." Sydney ordered.

"Timmy at peace." The empath stated before dashing out the door. Sydney moved to follow after him, but was stopped by Parker.

"Let him go."

"He'll be killed the second someone sees him." Sydney begged.

Parker nodded, a small tear escaping down her cheek. "He's been trapped in that mangled brain of his for decades. He's stuck around this long just to help Jarod but now…" She choked, unable to finish the words.

"They've taken that away. There is nothing left for Angelo in our world anymore." The psychiatrist finished for her. "Miss Parker, you are wrong. I don't deny he's been a great ally to Jarod, but he's also always been trying to help you. You and Jarod. He's given you everything in his life, so you two can have a chance at happiness."

The pair flinched as the sound of two gunshots consumed the sublevel.

Parker gazed into the psychiatrists eyes, unable to prevent the tears that now fell freely from her face. "Godspeed Timmy." She whispered, before collapsing into Sydney's arms.

THE CENTRE – SL-26: ISOLATION BLOCK 'D'

Jarod lay motionless on the cold concrete. He looked longingly at the small block that acted as his bed across from where he had been placed in his cell.

Jarod's bruised body told the story of the abuse he had been subjected to over the past twenty four hours. He could feel a nasty laceration on his left cheek; his chest was covered with small electrical burns, never mind the countless bruises that seem to exist over almost every inch of flesh. When they had finally released him from the overhead shackles, conveniently located in the zoo-cage they kept him in, Jarod had fallen into a miserable heap, his exhaustion preventing him from giving Lyle the defiant glare he so desperately wanted to share.

The cruelty hadn't stopped there, as at Lyle's orders the sweepers had dragged the fallen pretender over to the edge his cell, and had looped handcuffs around one of the bars, restraining him behind his back, than securing his legs in a similar fashion. Jarod had found brief respite in his exhaustion, but had soon awaken to an almost unbearable numbness in his limbs. The cold concrete was unwelcoming against his exposed chest, and before long he had found himself shivering. He was beginning to believe they were planning on leaving him like this until the Africans came to drag him across the Atlantic.

How had things gone so wrong?

He could only assume that Lysander had pulled through, as Lyle had not taunted him about her death, and he hadn't given the twin the satisfaction of begging to hear about her condition. Jarod knew they should have been able to pump her stomach before her body finished its fatal shutdown, but he was obviously most concerned about her emotional state. He could still hear her voice, it haunted him whenever his mind released the memory from its carefully guarded vault.

"Please just let me go."

The drugs had almost claimed her at that point, but the desperation in her voice had been overwhelming. Jarod was driven within by thoughts of his family. He knew his mother was alive, and he had been only temporarily separated from his father, his clone and sister. However Lysander had forced him to wonder about what it would be like if he truly was alone in this world? Could he survive in here, knowing what he did about the outside world, if there was no one waiting for him beyond the confines of his cell? What then would be the point to this miserable existence?

He just prayed that she didn't hate him when she had opened her eyes, realizing that she was trapped back in their unforgiving reality.

As he had been dragged back to his cell, Jarod had found himself contemplating if maybe he should have just let her go. Had he saved her simply to spare himself more grief? He never would have forgiven himself if she had killed herself as he had failed to get them to safety after he had rescued her from Alex's hold. Had he intervened for the right reasons?

And then there was Angelo. Every sweeper in the building was gunning for the poor empath. Angelo had been his saviour during his three decades locked up in the Centre, and his guardian angel while he was on the run. He wondered where his friend was hiding, and if he had the ability to even leave the Centre. Timmy would have made it, but Angelo was so trapped by the crossed wires in his head, he simply could not function in society. The Centre was all the man knew.

Jarod wondered if Broots had managed to send the scribbled shorthand email that he asked the tech to forward on. If he had, he had no doubt that his father would now be aware of his upcoming transfer to Africa. If only he could spare them from the pain. Jarod was slowly resigning himself to the fact that with every passing second, he was more likely to be making an appearance on the African bound airplane. He would stay alert for any opportunity that would present itself, but this time he had been bested in the game of wits. He had determined his own fate.

He prayed his father wouldn't try to make a rescue attempt, as they had originally done with Jay when the boy had been destined for the Congo. Jarod knew the only reason his father hadn't been shot dead on sight was because both Jarod and Jay had escaped that day. However with Jarod on the other side of the bars, his father's life no longer had significant value as far as the Centre was concerned. If the Major showed up, they would shoot - no hesitation.

Jarod buried his thoughts in the back of his head as he became aware of a presence outside the room where his cell was. He was bound with his back to the doorway, and thus was incapable of facing his tormentors.

"Good morning Jarod." Lyle's cheerful voice greeted. "I trust you had a restful evening."

Jarod remained silent.

"I get it, mornings arn’t your thing. Life’s always a bit rough until that first cup of coffee." Lyle mocked, as the sweepers moved to release Jarod from his chains. His arms fell limply to his side, initiating the painful sensation of his limbs reawakening. He awkwardly managed to push himself around to face the twin, who had now entered Jarod's cell. The grin on the man's face was frightening.

"Last day before you leave home Jarod! You could at least pretend to look like you are happy to see me." Lyle taunted.

"I've done enough pretending in my lifetime, thank you." Jarod shot back, wincing at the croakiness of his voice. It had been a long time since he had last been given water.

"It's always big promises, no delivery with you Jarod. Hopefully in your time away from us you'll learn the error of your ways." Lyle responded, crouching down to meet the pretender.

"I brought you a going away present. No need to thank me." Lyle whispered, staring intently into Jarod's eyes.

Jarod watched apprehensively as the twin grabbed a small polaroid from his suit jacket and tossed it at Jarod's prone form.

Jarod apprehensively allowed his eyes to reach the photo, his head replaying the cruel words Lyle had uttered.

"I've been looking for an excuse to get rid of that thing for years Jarod. You just handed me one, gift-wrapped and under the tree."

The photo was of Angelo. Or what had been Angelo.

With his limbs still numb at his sides, slowly tingly back to life, Jarod could do nothing. He wanted to launch himself at the man before him. He wanted to choke every last breath of oxygen from his lungs. But he could do nothing.

He had failed his friend.

Jarod wanted to disappear, to escape the vindictive stares of Lyle and the sweepers who surrounded him. They wanted him broken, defeated.

He wouldn't let them. Angelo had sacrificed himself numerous times so that Jarod could be free from this cruel world in a way that Timmy never could have been. Raines had seen to that. His friend had given his life so that Lysander could have a chance at hers, and Jarod would do everything he could to make sure of that. He would fight them so Angelo's death would not be in vain. He would never give up.

Jarod fought the tears that threatened to surface, forcing them down. He would grieve later. Knowing it was what they wanted, he curled into himself, hiding his head between his arms.

He could hear Lyle chuckle maliciously. "I've finally silenced the mighty pretender. Get him on his feet." Lyle ordered the sweepers.

Jarod remained limp as he was pulled upwards.

He raised his eyes to meet Lyle's.

Lyle's over satisfied smirk fell off his face, expecting the broken gaze of a grieving pretender, but instead was met with a cold, defiant glare.

Without hesitation, Jarod wrenched himself free from the sweepers' placid grip, immediately launching himself at Lyle. The man tried to sidestep Jarod's attack, but Jarod had anticipated his move. Lyle was thrown against the confine of the cell, his head hitting the bars with a sickening crunch. Jarod watched with satisfaction as the man slid to the ground unconscious.

Jarod took advantage of the sweepers' momentary shock, as he delivered a few punishing kicks, and quickly took off in a desperate sprint. Ignoring the screaming behind him he flew out of the room that held his cage, rounding the corner. If he could just make it down one level, to SL-27, he could find his way out.

He raced down the hallway towards a ventilation shaft he knew led straight down to the level below. The sounding of the alarm only fuelled his desperation, as he put distance between himself and the sweepers now chasing after him. He ignored their gunfire threats, knowing no one would dare take a shot that could potentially paralyze their precious pretender.

Jarod rounded the last turn in the hallway, knowing he was just feet away from the ventilation shaft. He was going to make it.

Jarod gasped as a hand reached out and grabbed him as he came into view of the shaft, pulling him down. The momentum from his desperate sprint caused the pretender to careen forward. He flew into the wall, his right arm taking the brunt of his fall. Jarod couldn't suppress a scream of pain as he felt his wrist snap in two as he landed with a loud thud on the linoleum tiles.

"Going somewhere genius?" The gruff voice of Sam sounded.

Grimacing, Jarod turned over and faced the sweeper, holding his broken wrist in agony.

"I think we may be even now." The sweeper taunted as the rest of his team skidded to a stop behind the pair.

"Get him to the infirmary." Sam ordered, smiling spitefully at the fallen pretender.

Jarod dropped his head back to the floor. He had been given his one opportunity to flee. This time tomorrow he would likely be half way across the Atlantic.

"I'm sorry Angelo." He whispered under his breath.

THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SL-14

"Jarod, are you okay?" Sydney cried, as he rushed into the examination room.

"Sydney." The pretender greeted flatly, unable to contain a wince. He was sitting on the edge of the examination table, a doctor carefully placing a cast on the pretender's right wrist. Four sweepers stood at his side, and Sam was glaring menacingly at him from across the room.

Talk about overkill.

"Doctor, you are not allowed to be in here." Sam stated from across the room.

Jarod watched intently as two sweepers moved from his side, closing in around Sydney.

"I have clearance from the Triumvirate." Sydney replied, stepping away from the sweepers and grabbing Jarod's nearby chart from the wall.

"Low grade fever, dehydrated." The shrink muttered shaking his head. He turned to face the pretender. "Jarod, I want you placed on IV fluids. We'll keep you up here overnight for observation."

The doctor applying Jarod's cast looked at the pretender sympathetically before turning to face Sydney. "I’ve been instructed to stabilize his wrist, nothing more."

"Sorry doc, nothing personal. Just following orders." Sam informed the angered psychiatrist.

"Fellows – please show the doctor out." He ordered calmly, his eyes never leaving the pretender.

Jarod sighed audibly. He was beginning to feel like a piece of prized livestock. This conversation was focused solely on him, but not one person in the room cared about his opinion.

"I will not allow it. Jarod needs medical attention." Sydney protested as the sweepers gently took his arms. There had been a time where his opinion was greatly valued in respect to the pretender program, but that day had far sailed away. He was beginning to feel like he was being put out to pasture, forced to sit aside as they slowly ruined Jarod.

"Unfortunately Jarod has other places to be." The smooth voice of Lyle announced, as the twin made his entrance into the room. Sydney was shocked to see a large contusion on the man's forehead. He hadn't heard exactly what had transpired down in Jarod's cell as Broots had only informed him that his protégé had arrived at the infirmary with a broken wrist. If there was a Centre rumour, Broots was on top of it. Sydney had the tech working on hacking into the surveillance system to get a copy of exactly what had transpired down on SL-26.

"Miss me Jarod?" Lyle questioned, an edge to his voice.

The doctor attending to Jarod spun around. "With all due respect Mr. Lyle, you should be in bed resting! You were unconscious for nearly ten minutes and have a serious concussion."

"Consider me checking out AMA. Jarod and I need to sort some things out." The twin responded, glaring at the pretender. "You almost done with him?"

The infirmary doctor sighed. "Yes, but the cast will need at least an hour to finish setting. As I told your men here, I strongly recommend he stays here for at least the next 12 hours attached to an IV. He has a low grade fever and is dangerously dehydrated."

"Jarod's a big boy. He can handle it." Lyle mocked before turning over to Sydney. "Sorry Syd, but we're going to have to cancel your Freudian session with boy wonder."

Sydney was about to open his mouth to protest, when he heard the unmistakable squeaking of Mr. Raines oxygen tank, followed by the easily recognizable gaited walk of stilettos.

"Jarod stays here." Parker announced as she made an appearance into the examination room, flanked by the new Centre chairman.

Lyle frowned before approaching his twin. "Look what our little psychopath did to me." He responded, pointing to the laceration on his forehead with emphasis. "He needs to be shown his place."

"Sorry Lyle, you'll have to send him for his spanking later. Until he's given medical ok, boy wonder is not setting a foot out of this wing." Parker replied.

Lyle turned up to Raines. "Don't tell me you are supporting this? The last thing boy-wonder needs is another mommy."

Raines glared at Parker's twin. "The Triumvirate ordered that Jarod be placed in isolation. You want to explain to me how a man who was to spend his entire week with us locked up alone, managed to go for a jog?"

"Unfinished business." Lyle responded smoothly.

Parker snorted. "Yeah, and if you had informed me of Uncle Cracker Jacks untimely demise in the same manner, you'd have a lot more showing taen just that contusion on your forehead."

"Enough!" Raines commanded. "Jarod will spend his next 18 hours chained to an infirmary bed – ALONE. If anyone in this room dares to violate the isolation orders issued by the Triumvirate, I'll personally be reserving you a seat on the plane to Africa beside him. Am I being clear?"

Parker and Lyle nodded in assent.

Sydney shook his head in objection. "Raines, I was given permission to conduct a one hour psychological assessment of Jarod."

"Sixty minutes Sydney." Raines warned looking at his watch. "Starting now…." The chairman turned to Sam. "Secure him, and then make sure he is left alone."

"Yes sir." The sweeper responded.

Jarod felt Raines' eyes on him before the man turned and exited the room, pausing at the doorway. "Lyle – go back to bed."

The twin snorted. "So now he's practicing the Hippocratic oath." He muttered before facing the pretender. "We still have eighteen hours Jarod until you are shipped out of here. You'd be mistaken to assume you'll get away with this. I promise you, you will pay." He threatened before backing out of the room, his eyes never leaving Jarod's form.

Jarod just smiled at the twin in defiance as the sweepers once again surrounded him, forcing him off the examination table. He shifted his eyes trained on Miss Parker as he was pushed out the room. She did nothing to indicate his presence, nothing to indicate she still cared. Six years of sharing secrets, painstakingly forming a fragile bond, only to have it shattered as soon as the Centre got their hands back on him.

"Good luck Sydney – I can't imagine having to decipher what goes on in that head of his." Parker remarked after the pretender had been escorted out of the examination room.

The shrink nodded sadly. "Jarod's emotions are raw, uncontrolled. He's already fragile due to his recent loss of freedom, and I know he is feeling tremendous guilt and grief over what happened to Angelo. How did he find out Miss Parker?" The shrink added, knowing she had alluded to it earlier.

Parker shook her head sadly. "Lyle showed him a Polaroid of Angelo… of what was Angelo, a close up of the bullet hole to the brain. Jarod just lay there, and the moment they relaxed, he just launched himself at Lyle."

The shrink shook his head. "And then he ran."

Parker nodded. "Sam pummelled him just a few feet from the ventilation shaft that headed straight down to SL-27. He almost made it Syd. What a disaster that would have been."

"Thank you for protecting Jarod, Miss Parker." Sydney replied knowingly.

The woman chuckled in amusement. "Don't kid yourself Freud. I'm just doing my job. Tomorrow I'm in charge of making sure Jarod is handed over the Africans in pristine condition. That includes being able to walk. Fortunately for Jarod – Raines agreed with me."

Sydney stared at Parker. Her defences were clearly back up. Last night she had opened herself up to him, and he knew the turmoil she was feeling within.

She could pretend all she wanted that she didn't care. Sydney knew that deep down, she really did.

"The clock is ticking on your therapy session Sydeny. " Parker warned before leaving the psychiatrist alone.

THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SECURED WING

Jarod lay back on the infirmary bed, trying to ignore the feeling of hopelessness that was swallowing him as the sweepers placed the hospital restraints around his legs and good wrist.

"Sleep tight Jarod." Sam offered unsympathetically before the team left him alone in the room. Jarod turned his head away from the camera, waiting for Sydney's imminent arrival.

He was not sure exactly what had just transpired in the examination room. Raines had never had Jarod's well fare in his best interest, and Jarod could only hope this new turn events had only to do with the former doctor's fear of the Triumvirate. He had roughly twenty-four hours left until he would be transferred, along with Lysander. He would be very surprised if Lyle didn't make an appearance before then.

Jarod had never felt such turmoil from within, his soul was deeply tormented from the events of the last few weeks. His last viable escape attempt had been thwarted, and with Miss Parker now running the show for his transport, Jarod knew a lucky break that would lead to his freedom was highly unlikely. In the last few years, when Jarod and Miss Parker had been forced to cross paths in an one on one atmosphere, she had greatly softened, allowing her beautiful soul she inherited from her mother to surface, if only in small segments. However when Miss Parker was around Centre personal, save Sydney and Broots, it was all ice-queen, all the time. Miss Parker had done what had needed to be done in the cruel world of the Centre – and her hard shell wouldn't break, not on their turf. It was a matter of survival. Empathy, sympathy, kindness, all had no place in the Centre.

Jarod felt his thoughts drift towards Angelo, but he quickly forced them back down. His grief from his friend was raw, and he simply couldn't deal with it right now – he needed focus. Jarod sighed in relief as he heard the electronic lock to the room disengage, turning his head to meet the comforting glance of his mentor.

"How is Lysander?" the pretender questioned instantly as Sydney reached his bedside.

Sydney offered a comforting smile, placing his hand over Jarod's. "You did a very brave thing Jarod. Physically, she'll be fine. I am however obviously worried about her emotional well-being, as I suspect you are as well." The psychiatrist replied, pulling up the lone chair in the room to the pretender's bedside. It disheartened him terribly to see his prodigy so carefully restrained.

""She was taken from her family when she was sixteen. I was too young –you were able to make me forget. I was haunted only by shadows and fragments trapped in my mind - but she remembers everything. Nearly twenty years Sydney! Captivity is much more difficult, when you know your loved ones are waiting for you on the other side." Jarod finished with a haunted look. Sydney felt his heart squeeze. He desperately wished he could offer some sort of clue, give his protégé an indication that Major Charles would be trying to rescue him tomorrow, but it was simply to dangerous. He couldn't risk the Centre finding out, but he wished he could offer Jarod a small morsel of hope.

"How are you feeling?" Sydney offered instead, directing Jarod's focus away from Lysander.

"My wrist is fine. It was a relatively clean break, it should be back to normal in 4-6 weeks." The pretender answered mechanically. "But I assume you already knew that."

Sydney nodded. "I wasn't necessarily referring to your physical well-being. I am here just to talk with you Jarod."

Jarod chuckled, before laying his gaze at the security camera across the room. "Talk about what Sydney – about how my last friend in this place was just murdered for trying to save a life? How about in twenty four hours I'm to be shipped to Africa like a piece of prized livestock? What about what it's like to be locked up in an 8x10 after nearly six years of freedom?" The pretender shot out.

"You have a lot of anger Jarod. You cannot keep repressing it – you've had two outbursts since you've been back with us, and I'm fearful of the escalating consequences." Sydney warned the pretender. Jarod was creating dangerous enemies in the form of Lyle and Sam, nevermind Raines.

"They are called feelings Sydney. I was locked up for thirty years and brainwashed into thinking I wasn't allowed to have any. No more. The little science experiment has grown up." Jarod retorted bitterly.

"Jarod you need to find a way to deal with your emotions. You must control them, you cannot let them control you." Sydney countered.

Jarod met his eyes. "How Sydney? How do I deal with this helpless rage that is trying to consume me? How do I suppress the emptiness that fills me when I am separated from my family? How do I live with the blank faces of those I have killed over the years, and survive being back in the place that wants me to kill more? How do I look into the eyes of the man who shot my brother, who killed my friend without fantasizing about him being brought to justice? How?" Jarod growled out bitterly.

Sydney sat back, guilt flooding into him as Jarod allowed the psychiatrist a rare glimpse into the many tortured dimensions of pretender's soul. Sydney had once almost been consumed by his anger towards the Centre, the twisted path the corporation had forced him on. In the scheme of things Sydney had been the antagonist, and he couldn't begin to fathom the extra guilt, the additional rage that Jarod had to deal with, given his place in Centre hierarchy, he had been their puppet for three decades.

"Jarod, you have been forced to endure so much in your life. But watching you these past few years, as I have told you before, has made me realize that something so right has come out of something so very wrong." Sydney started gently.

"And for what Sydney? I've fought so long and hard, only to end up back where I started." Jarod replied.

"Far from it." The psychiatrist countered. "You've found your family, despite the fact an entire corporation was working day and night to keep you from doing just that. Think of the many lives you positively influenced Jarod on the outside. You gave hope to people who had no other place to turn to."

"Hope." Jarod repeated quietly.

"Jarod, no matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to promise me, that you won't give up. I won't stop fighting to bring you back ho-.. back to the Centre." Sydney grimaced slightly, hoping Jarod hadn't caught on to his slip, almost referring to the Centre as Jarod's home. "Let your family be your strength, when you feel that you can't fight them alone anymore, and I'll be your hope, I promise you, I will not rest until you are transferred back here."

"I'm scared Sydney." The pretender admitted softly. "I've only ever known two things my whole life – here and out there. I don't know them, I don't know how to fight them."

"You'll figure it out Jarod. You always do." The psychiatrist responded confidently, placing his hand on top of Jarod's once again.

The pretender met the psychiatrist's stare with intense eyes. "But at what price Sydney?"

The two men's attention quickly shifted to the door as the electronic lock disengaged, and an infirmary nurse entered holding an IV bag, followed by Mr. Raines.

"Session's over." The chairman wheezed.

"Raines, I still have thirty minutes left with Jarod." Sydney informed him angrily after checking his watch.

"You've heard enough." The man wheezed. "I'm confident you have enough information to give the Triumvirate what they have requested."

"I would hate to inform the Triumvirate that you are interfering with their wishes." Sydney informed the chairman.

"And I would hate to inform them that their faithful psychiatrist has been playing mommy instead of doctor." Raines countered. "Do I need to get the sweepers in here?"

Sydney sighed in frustration, knowing that Raines had won this round. He turned back to face Jarod, the look on the younger man's face showed the same train of thought.

"I'm sorry Jarod." He offered. "Don't forget what I've told you."

"I never have." The pretender replied, offering a small smile. "Goodbye Sydney." He added softly, before turning his head away from the group.

Sydney glared at Raines before unwillingly exiting the room.

"Time for your medicine Jarod." Raines informed the pretender. "Will we have your cooperation, or do I need to get Sam in here?" He asked.

Jarod tugged at his restraints. "It appears that you have my cooperation whether or not I wish to give it to you."

"That's the idea." Raines replied evily.

The nurse quickly scurried over to Jarod, setting up the IV and quickly inserting the small needle into his hand. Jarod winced slightly, but kept his eyes trained on Raines, knowing the chairman hadn't shown up in here simply to watch Jarod be placed on IV fluids.

Raines met the pretender's eyes with a satisfied look as he pulled out four small syringes, handing it to the nurse. "He is to get one of these every four hours."

"Sedatives?" Jarod questioned weakly, eyeing the syringes suspiciously.

"Something like that." The ghoul replied.

Jarod looked helplessly at the nurse as she injected the first syringe into his IV, his eyes following the fluids as it made its way down the line.

"Why?" Jarod questioned brokenly. He didn't know what was entering his body, but if he knew Raines as well as he thought he did, Jarod knew it couldn't be good. The man wouldn't be satisfied by letting Jarod sleep his way to Africa. It was something more, something painful.

"Assurance Jarod. This way I won't have to worry about visitors, or you trying to pull a stunt like you did this morning. But mostly – because I can."

THE PELICAN, BAR & GRILL– DOVER, DELAWARE

Major Charles quickly scanned the occupants of the restaurant, sighing in relief as he caught sight of Sydney and Broots, tucked away in a small booth in the corner.

He hadn't been a fan of having such a last minute meeting, but in reality it was far more secure to meet in plain site then to risk such a sensitive phone call when the Centre was on high alert. To outside lookers, it would like Broots was just comforting a co-worker about to lose his prized project.

"Gentleman." Charles greeted curtly, before sliding in the booth. "How's my son?"

Broots just looked nervously at Sydney, who in turn seemed very interested in the contents of the glass before him.

"There was an incident this morning." The psychiatrist began hesitantly. "Jarod was admitted to the infirmary with a broken wrist. I hope this won't make things more difficult for you Major."

Charles swore under his breath, pushing the questions forming in his head down. He would torture himself later with thoughts of the Centre, for now Jarod needed him. "You said there was a possibility that Jarod might be…restrained.. during transport?"

Broots snorted. "Now there is an understatement."

"Broots!" Sydney whispered sharply as the tech looked awkwardly at Major Charles.

"Gentleman– please. I've tortured myself for decades about the reality of Jarod's treatment during his imprisonment. He tries to hide it from me, just as Jay does, but the truth escapes in their nightmares. Please, I need to know what to expect tomorrow." The Major pleaded.

"I think it would be best to assume that Jarod will be carefully restrained, likely hands and feet. Transport up until this point has been done in cargo vans, as I mentioned earlier." Sydney offered the major.

Charles ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I know my son can be quite the Houdini artist when he chooses to be. I was planning on slipping him a lock pick and letting him do the rest. But with his broken wrist…. I guess it will be up to me."

"Will you be able to do it Major?" Sydney questioned. "I can come with you tomorrow if you need assistance, I know you are unwilling to allow Gemini to accompany you. Please let me help."

"No Sydney. I can't risk them seeing you. I need you in case something goes wrong tomorrow. I'll be fine. I have to be to save my son. I won't leave him behind again. Mr. Broots – do you have the information I requested?"

"It's right here Major. The transport schedule, proposed personal, vehicle list. I even found a copy of Miss Parker draft security brief." The tech offered.

"Miss Parker's brief?" Sydney questioned in astonishment. "You stole from Miss Parker?"

"Well she's asked me to steal stuff from enough people over the past six years, it was about time for a little payback as far as I was concerned." Broots replied, forcing strength into his voice.

"Thank you Mr. Broots. I know how much you have risked for me, and for my son. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am." Charles told the tech sincerely. Without the man's help there is no way he and Gemini could have prepared their rescue plan for Jarod.

"Major, Jarod has saved my life more time then once. As far as I am concerned, I owe him. He doesn't deserve this – no one does for that matter." Broots informed him as the Major stood up from the booth.

"Thank you gentleman. I will never forget your kindness." Charles offered before turning away.

"Major?" Broots called out hesitantly. "What exactly are you planning tomorrow?" He questioned curiously.

The Major smirked, a look Sydney recognized easily as he had seen it thousands of time on Jarod's face.

"I can't reveal all of my secrets now can I? But I will promise you this, there will be a lot of fireworks."

THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SECURED WING

"Jarod you look like hell." Parker announced as she strode into the infirmary cell, her eyes taking in the restrained pretender.

Jarod winced as he opened his eyes to the blinding fluorescent lights, his head was pounding with the remains of whatever Raines had ordered into his system.

"Miss Parker." He whispered, his throat unbearably dry.

"Rough night?." Miss Parker mocked, approaching Jarod's bed.

Jarod swallowed, attempting to lubricate his throat. "Courtesy of Raines." He croaked, turning his head in the direction of the four discarded syringes near his bedside. Parker caught his line of sight and grabbed one curiously.

"What did he give you Jarod?" Parker asked, any hint of concern removed from her voice.

"I don't know" Jarod admitted. "Something psychotropic. Pounding head, racing heart, tremors, mild hallucinations. Everytime I closed my eyes I saw… " Jarod stopped short, his eyes focused on Parker's hardened stare. "Let's just say sleep was not in my cards last night." The pretender finished bitterly.

Parker raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like you had quite a trip, now it's time for you take a real one."

Jarod sighed heavily as Parker began to undo the soft restraints that had kept him prisoner to the infirmary bed. "Right out of your life." He muttered, avoiding her stare.

"It's been a long time coming." Parker retorted.

"If you have already written me out of your story, why are you here?" Jarod questioned.

"Orders Jarod. Something you will once again learn how to follow."

"I won't let them control me." He informed her, forcing confidence into his voice.

"They already do Jarod." Parker barbed, freeing Jarod from the last restraint with an angry tug. "Up." She ordered bluntly.

Jarod gave her an unimpressed glare as he pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to not apply any pressure on his right arm. He was instantly conscious of Sam as the sweeper entered the small room, immediately approaching the bed.

"Sam will be taking you for a shower. No games, no antics Jarod. Am I understood?" Parker told Jarod, her tone as if she was speaking to a toddler.

"Yes Miss Parker." He replied sarcastically, pushing himself to his feet. The sudden change in position sent a violent rush to Jarod's head, causing the pretender to stumble forward, Sam saving him from crashing to the floor.

"Gus." Parker commanded as a second sweeper ran in from the hallway. "Help Sam, Boy wonder can't seem to stay on his own two feet."

"Your concern is touching Miss Parker." Jarod said as he was slowly escorted to the door. "I can see you have clearly inherited your mother's nurturing soul. The pounding in his head was nearly consuming him.

"Save it Jarod." Parker warned. "The mommy card isn't going to get you anywhere."

"There is still the epilogue Miss Parker." Jarod cautioned.

"Not in this story Jarod." Parker retorted tersely as Sam propelled the pretender out of the room.

"It finishes the way the Centre always intended – both of us, alone." She finished inaudibly.

Life lesson number one – the Centre always wins. Parker had learned that long ago, Tommy's murder had been the final piece in her collapsing bridge. Jarod had yet to crash, but he would, and it would be a long and painful fall. Parker would be damned before she would be there to pick up the pieces. She was still trying to pick hers up.

"I'm sorry Angelo, but this is the only way it can be." Parker whispered, before exiting the room. Three more hours, and her mind would be free from this mess.

"Promise Timmy, Angel will help friend."

Lies. It is what the Parker family did best.

THE CENTRE – SL-21: CORRIDOR B – Jarod's Old Room

Time had finally finished its cruel countdown for Lysander. She was aware of a large group outside her door, indicating that it was time to begin the long journey to Africa.

The predictor lay huddled in a small corner, trapped in a straight jacket. Lyle had brought her here after removing her from the sterile environment in the infirmary. She hadn't left the room since, until this morning when she had been escorted to the showers, and given a fresh set of clothing. They had left her trapped in the straightjacket, her only reprieve given when they delivered the green slop twice a day. No one had spoken a word to her, she had been left totally alone, tortured only by her thoughts. It was as if they really were trying to drive her mad. She wasn't entirely convinced that it wasn't working. Let the mind games begin.

Lysander looked up in disinterest as a team of four sweepers entered her cell.

"Time to go." One of the brainless goons ordered her. Lysander sighed, but using the wall, quickly propelled herself to her feet. She would save her strength, save her resistance for the other side of the Atlantic. Her fight was done here.

The sweepers quickly encircled her, expertly undoing the straps of the straight jacket and slipping it off of her. She wasn't so much given time for one shoulder roll before a belt was attached to her waist and her wrists and ankles encased in shackles.

"Paranoid are we mates?" Lysander drawled, but she was ignored. Instead they grabbed her biceps and propelled her forward. Lys practically had to jog to keep up with their gaited walk. She sighed in relief as the group reached the elevator.

Lysander kept her eyes trained on the elevator panel, watching as they slowly ascended to their final destination, SL 1. She could feel fear, apprehension growing in her as they approached ground level. It took every ounce of self control not to erupt into a full scale panic attack as the elevator dinged, announcing it’s arrival.

Lysander closed her eyes as she roughly pushed forward off the elevator, taking in a deep cleansing breath. She almost hoped they would sedate her, so she wouldn't spend the next eighteen hours suppressing panic. Sometimes it was best just to be lost in oblivion, free from pain.

As the group entered the lower level of the parking garage, Lysander scanned the surroundings, hoping for a glimpse of Jarod. He was nowhere in sight, and she realized that it was unlikely that the two would be allowed to exchange so much as a quick glance. Two cargo vans were waiting near the door, along with five town cars. You would think the pope was coming to town.

However even if Jarod wasn't in sight, Lysander knew the pretender would be making this journey with her. Even if she couldn't see him, she could feel him, knowing that while behind their locked doors, while held in their chains, there was another person experiencing the same fear and helplessness as herself.

THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SECURED WING

"Sam, is he ready?" Parker demanded harshly from outside the infirmary shower stalls. The last thing she needed was to walk in on boy wonder in his birthday suit.

"Yes Miss Parker." The sweeper responded dutifully.

Parker stood impatiently, acutely aware of the shackles she held in her hand. She couldn't help but notice a flash of guilt, but pushed it away. Jarod had chosen his fate, and she was as much as a pawn in this episode as he was. She wouldn't be a victim to the guilt. It was Jarod's plight, not hers. One would go crazy feeling empathy towards all those whose lives had been harmed by the hands of the Centre. Best not to waste it on those who couldn’t help themselves.

Jarod emerged from the shower area, his hair still wet; Sam's hand firmly encircling the pretender's left bicep. Miss Parker handed the shackles over to Sam, who wordlessly began restraining Jarod.

Parker caught the pretender's intense stare, his deep brown eyes never leaving hers. His face was taunt, masking any emotions that he might be feeling, but she couldn't help to see the fear that was emanating from his eyes. It had been years since she had seen such desperation in Jarod's features. She couldn't bear the thought of the emptiness she knew those eyes would hold if Jarod was ever returned from the Africa.

Parker stepped back as Sam double checked the belt around Jarod's waist. The right cuff lay empty, due to the bulky cast Jarod wore on his right wrist, but the rest of his appendages were carefully chained.

Wordlessly Parker rubbed the blue cloth she still held in her hands, before approaching Jarod. He looked at her curiously. "A sling." He stated. "I didn't realize my comfort was that important to you Miss Parker." He barbed.

Giving Jarod her best menacing stare, Parker silently helped Jarod into the sling, enjoying the pretender's look of disgust as he realized that the end that held his hand was completely enclosed. There would be no lock picking in his future. "It's not." She stated evenly.

"The Centre really does think of everything don't they?" He remarked bitterly.

Parker ignored him, not wanting to engage in yet another word battle with Jarod. "Time to go." She announced, starting in the direction of the elevator, knowing Sam would ensure Jarod would follow suit.

The ride up to SL-1 was mercifully short, and for once in his life, Jarod remained silent.

As the elevator pinged opened, Parker turned around and faced the pretender. "Out." She snapped, in a tone she usually reserved just for Broots.

Jarod sighed heavily, but awkwardly moved out of the elevator. Not waiting for Sam, Parker grabbed the pretender's arm, hauling him forward, fully aware he was struggling to keep up with her, given his current state of restraint.

A few feet from the entrance way into the underground parking garage, Parker roughly pushed Jarod against the wall, meeting his angry eyes with an unforgiving stare of her own. "There will be no games Jarod, no stunts, no houdini acts. You pull anything and I swear -."

"I got it Miss Parker." Jarod interjected thinly. "The only question I have is if the bullet is destined for my foot or knee. We never quite managed to clear that one up."

Parker sneered at him. "I'm the one in control of the freakshow this time Jarod. Don't you forget it."

Jarod raised his eyebrows. "Now if you really believed that Miss Parker, I wouldn't be in these." The pretender responded, tugging on his restrained left hand. "The Centre has been trying to quantify for years, exactly what my abilities are. Admit it, the shackles, the sweepers, the six vehicles that are likely on the other side of the door are all there because deep down you are all afraid of me, afraid of what exactly I might do, what I am capable of."

Parker let out a huff of amusement. "You just cannot admit defeat, can you Jarod?"

Jarod cocked his head. "On the contrary Miss Parker. My fight is just beginning."

"One hour with the Africans Jarod, and you will be drastically changing your tune." Parker warned, before stepping back. "Sam, get him in the van. NOW." She ordered.

"Yes Miss Parker." The sweeper responded, stepping over and grabbing a hold of the pretender's arm. Jarod's face tightened as he felt the sweeper's grip on him, but said nothing as he obediently followed the sweeper into the parking garage, Parker following suit.

She had arranged the transport well. Lysander and Jarod would be transported in separate cargo vans, in part because of the isolation orders from the Triumvirate, but mostly because it was Parker's assurance. She knew Major Charles was out there, and although she knew it was unlikely that he would attempt a rescue, let alone that he would even knew about his son's upcoming transfer across the Atlantic, she had come prepared. The two vans would be escorted by four town cars. Parker would bring up the rear in a seventh vehicle, far behind and out of the sight of the convoy, the final assurance that nothing would go awry. If she failed, she didn't doubt there would be a bullet destined for her brain, or at the very least a little 're-education' of her own in Africa. She had once told Jarod she would do whatever it would take to survive, and as cruel twisted fate once again had intervened, her survival depended on Jarod's imprisonment.

Noticing Sam had finished securing Jarod in the back of the second cargo van, Parked walked over to make her final inspection. As added security, bars had been installed across the back of the cargo vans, creating a 'control-access' area in the back of a van, or in layman terms, a cage, one that Houdini himself couldn't break out of.

"Have a good trip Jarod." Parker mocked, before Sam slammed the doors shut on the pretender.

"MOVE PEOPLE." Parker commanded, jumping into her town car.

In one hour, Jarod would be safely on the airplane, and Parker would be getting on with her new life – Labrat free.

EN-ROUTE TO CENTRE AIRSTRIP – T-30 min from DESTINATION

Jarod took another deep breath, suppressing the panic that was growing within. As long as they didn't try to sedate him, there was still a possibility of escape once in air. He had done it twice before, and he could do it again.

He just had to stay calm. He could outthink them, given the right opportunity.

Jarod had to admit it was a bit unnerving, knowing he would be under the control of the Triumvirate once he stepped foot on that plane. He knew his Centre capturers. He hadn't dug into their past as much as his just to torment Miss Parker. It was easier to fight the enemy you did know, rather then the one he didn't.

Jarod was pulled out of his thoughts as he became aware that the van that carried him had stopped moving. They couldn't be at the airport already? By his estimation, there should still be another thirty or so minutes left until they arrived at the Centre's airstrip. Jarod pressed his ear against the van wall trying to gage if there was any movement outside. Things were eerily silent.

He flinched as the sound of explosions ricocheted around the van, he counted at least twenty individual explosions. Jarod then heard shouting from outside the vehicle, followed by two gun shots. Moments later the van was once again in motion, proceeding at a dangerous pace.

"Dad?" Jarod whispered.

It had to be. There was no other explanation.

Jarod felt his heart grow lighter, as the van carrying him squealed around the turns. He struggled to remain seated on the small bench, hampered greatly by his leg shackles that were chained to the floor, and his left arm, which he was unable to lift more then a few inches off his lap.

Jarod grimaced as the van flew over a large bump, lurching him off the bench, instinctively he turned to his left, as he flew into the opposite van wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. He let out a groan of pain as he felt the van go down a steep embankment, before finally coming to a rest.

Jarod pushed himself towards the row of bars that separated him from the rear door of the cargo van, the sling on his right arm greatly hampering the process.

He pressed his face against the bars apprehensively as the back door was flung open.

"Dad." He cried as the figure behind the van was revealed.

"My god, Jarod! What have they done to you?" The major questioned, taking in his son's condition. Jarod was instantly conscious of the large laceration on his cheek, and the multiple bruises he knew were visible, nevermind the sling on his right arm, concealing a bulky cast.

"I'm fine Dad." Jarod replied as the Major moved into the van, reaching through the bars and placing a comforting hand on Jarod's cheek. "All that matters is that you are here now. Anything that has happened in the last month isn't important."

"I'm so sorry son." The major comforted, inspecting the large lock that was keeping him separated from his son. "We don't have much time. I need to get this lock off." The major gave Jarod's cheek a comforting pat before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a lock pick.

"How are Emily, and Jay?" Jarod questioned.

"They are fine. We've missed you terribly since we were separated before Christmas. The Centre was so close, we had to disappear underground, until we got the email from Mr. Broots, telling us about you."

Jarod nodded, his heart going out to Broots, knowing the courage it must have taken the tech to send such a sensitive email.

"How did you do it?" Jarod questioned curiously, as his father fumbled with the lock, cursing under his breath.

"Smoke bombs, mixed in with a little laughing gas. They didn't see me coming, much less how I left, although I do think I almost took out a town car on the way out. You can thank your little brother for that plan."

Jarod smiled as he peered outside the van, they were in a heavily wooded area.

The major caught Jarod's wandering eye. "I have a car stashed just a few minutes away, Jay is waiting for us at a nearby airstrip, the plane is fuelled, ready to go, on the runway. I knew I wouldn't regret the day I taught that boy how to fly."

"Since when has Jay been flying?" Jarod questioned lightly, grinning curiously.

The Major gave Jarod a wink. "It was his Christmas present, but I can't say I didn't have ulterior motives."

Jarod's head fell slightly as the emotions of another Christmas alone – away from his family resurfaced.

The major stopped momentarily, again reaching to comfort his son.

"I don't care what the risk is Jarod, after this, we are staying together as a family. We are stronger together. I won't leave you behind again; No matter what the consequences are."

Jarod looked into his father's eyes, his heart warming at the gentleness and caring that shone in them. He gave his dad a small smile, shifting to the right as much as he could. "Dad, can you get this sling off?" Jarod questioned, unconsciously tugging on the chain that kept his feet tethered to the van floor. He needed to free his hand, so he could begin to work on his shackles.

The Major loosened the strap, helping sliding off the blue sling as Jarod turned back to face him. Wordlessly he handed his son another lock pick, checking his watch, frowning at the amount of time that had passed.

"We'll be fine Dad." Jarod offered, as he became aware of his father's concern. "Nothing is going to keep me from my family, not after this."

"Think again." An unmistakable voice sounded from behind the van, the sound of a gun being cocked following suit.

"We'll be fine Dad." Jarod offered, as he became aware of his father's concern. "Nothing is going to keep me from my family, not after this."

"Think again." An unmistakable voice sounded from behind the van, the sound of a gun being cocked following suit.

"Miss Parker." Father and son emitted in unison.

"Nice to see you again Major." Parker stated darkly. "Tying to steal again from the Centre."

"He's my son Miss Parker. I've only ever wanted for him what your mother wanted for you, a better life, far away from the clutches of the Centre."

"I can see where Jarod gets it from. Dragging up the past, pulling up memories that should have long stayed buried." Parker sneered, shifting her focus to Jarod's form. The pretender pathetically had his face pressed against the bars, she could feel his eyes pleading with her.

"Please Miss Parker." The major begged. "Your mother made many sacrifices in her life for your safety, for the safety of my son. Please honour her memory, what she stood for. Don't condemn my son to captivity. Please."

Miss Parker shifted her attention between the two men before her. Sighing heavily, she holstered her weapon. The mommy card was getting rather old, but she didn't have it in her to be the wicked witch in this scheme. It didn't matter anyways. It was too late.

"Major, you have to leave now." She stated, her stare unable to leave Jarod's desperate brown eyes.

"I will never leave my son behind." The major replied, returning his attention to the lock that separated him from Jarod.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice this time." Parker informed him, her voice wavering slightly. "You forget to consider something in this diabolic little scheme of yours. There is a tracking device under the van. I was five minutes ahead of the back up sweeper team. They will be here any minute." She felt her heart twitch as Jarod's face crumbled in realization.

"I'll take my chances." The major shot back, continuing his jimmying of the lock.

"No Dad." Jarod whispered weakly, hesitating before continuing, strength creeping back into his voice. "You have to go now. You can't let them see you."

"You cannot ask me to leave you behind again Jarod. I won't. I can't, I don't have it in me."

"Please Dad. Please just go. I'll be fine. I promise." Jarod begged.

"You don't have to fight them alone anymore son. I'm here." The Major replied tenderly, his fumbling with the lock becoming more desperate.

Miss Parker shook her head. "Major you don't understand. The second Jarod was reacquired your death warrant was signed and sealed. If a trigger happy sweeper so much as catches a glimpse of you, that's it. It's over. You have to leave. Now."

"Dad please go." Jarod begged frantically.

Miss Parker watched as Major Charles looked desperately between her and his son.

"How can I do this?" He whispered, acceptance slowly washing through his features.

Jarod reached his plastered right arm through the bars, resting it on his father's knee. "I love you Dad. As long as I know you are safe, I will have the strength to fight them." Parker could see the pretender was struggling to maintain his composure.

Major Charles moved towards his son, again placing his hand on Jarod's cheek. "Don't give up Jarod. I will come for you. I promise. Don't stop fighting. Me, Emily and Jay, we will be waiting for you."

Jarod nodded weakly, a small sob escaping him as the sound of approaching vehicles reached them.

"Major." Parker warned.

"I love you Jarod." The major whispered softly as he backed out of the van. "I love you." He uttered one last time, before taking off into the nearby woods.

Jarod pressed desperately against the bars that separated him from his freedom, watching as his father's figure disappeared out of sight. His head fell to the floor, unable to contain the sobs from escaping.

Parker closed her eyes briefly, garnering strength as the sweeper team game into view.

"Miss Parker, what happened?" The head sweeper questionned, running up to her.

"Major Charles you idiot." She sneered. "He went that way." She added, pointing in the opposite direction from which she had seen the major flee.

"What about Jarod?" The sweeper questioned.

"If daddy couldn't spring him, he's sure as hell not going anywhere now." Parker informed him nastily. "Go find the Major. I'll stand watch over boy-wonder."

The sweeper nodded as he and his cronies took off in a mad sprint.

Parker climbed into the van, surprised to find Jarod's eyes on her. "Why?" He whispered brokenly.

She looked away as Angelo's last words haunted her.

"Promise me. Only Daughter can save Jarod. Tell-him. Friend needs to know Angel still cares."

Parker opened her mouth, but found no words waiting, no comfort she could offer to the fallen pretender.

Jarod lowered his head once again as silence took over the van. Parker could tell by the tremors in his body that he was unsuccessfully trying to suppress the sobs that were consuming him.

Parker stared at the wall across from her as the memories of the last six years flashed before her. She had begun the Jarod pursuit, a bitter young women tortured by the thoughts of her mother suicide. But Jarod had shown her the lies, the helpless situation her mother had been forced into. He had tried so desperately in Carthis to gain her allegiance, but she had pushed him away. It really was what she did best.

Turning once again towards Jarod, Parker took in his broken form. She had to admit, despite all the torments, the painful memories of her past that he dredged up, Jarod had improved her life. He had tried so hard to get her to fill in the missing pieces of her existence, to get her to see the future that her mother had wanted for her, that her mother had died trying to achieve. There was one last missing piece that needed to be found – the bond that had once existed between her and Jarod.

She could push him away, push him out, but Jarod had always existed in her life, and his memory would haunt her, just as her mother's had, just as Thomas's did. But he still had a chance.

Hesitantly Parker reached towards the bars, laying a comforting hand gently on the pretender's plastered wrist. It wasn't words, but it was the best she could do.

CENTRE AIRSTRIP

Jarod looked sadly at Miss Parker as the Town Car came to a stop beside the white cargo van they had been trailing for the last thirty minutes. He clenched his left hand in apprehension, as the door to the sedan was opened, and two pairs of arms reached in and grabbed him.

Tilting his head, he caught a glance of Lysander being escorted out of the back of the van. The predictor looked around desperately, stopping as she caught sight of him. She smiled at him as she was pushed out of sight.

He wasn't alone.

He felt Parker's presence behind him, as he took a deep breath, pushing his painful thoughts away. His father, Angelo, the Centre. He could only look forward to his future, in Africa. He would fight them, give them everything he had. He knew Sydney would be here, fighting for his return, that his father and Jay would be plotting for his rescue, and he would fight them for his mind, for his life. Nothing else mattered.

"It's time Jarod." Miss Parker whispered, taking his arm from the sweeper, and leading him towards the plane. Her grip was non-threatening, almost comforting. Jarod concentrated on his steps, conscious that every one was bringing him one closer to the clutches of the Triumvirate.

As they reached the base of the staircase leading to the aircraft, Jarod stopped suddenly. He looked at Parker desperately, knowing his facial expressions were betraying him, exposing exactly how much he feared them, feared what was coming.

"One step at a time Jarod." Parker whispered, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. He sighed and hesitantly took the first step on the staircase, conscious of how badly his limbs were shaking.

Once in the aircraft, Jarod allowed himself to be led to the back. Parker pulled on him gently as they reached his seat, but she did not do him the indignity of forcing him down. Trembling, Jarod resisted the urge to flee, to fight, and instead sat down, lifting his arms slightly as Parker attached his seatbelt.

He looked up at her, as three sweepers moved around him. The rattling of chains told him Lysander was being secured on the opposite side of the plane to him. He heard her grunt in pain as she was assumingly pushed into the seat. He turned his head, trying to see past the sweepers that surrounded him and her, but was unsuccessful. He would likely never lay eyes on her again, but just knowing she would be near, would bring him strength.

Returning his gaze to Parker, Jarod sucked in his breath as he saw her holding a small black hood in her hands.

"No.." He pleaded. "Please, no."

"I have no choice Jarod. Please don't fight me on this." Parker replied softly.

"No…No… No…"He shook his head desperately. Nauseous at what the hood represented, how it resurfaced the painful memories of his kidnapping, the night his entire life had been cruelly changed forever.

Parker sighed. "I'm sorry." She mouthed at him, as she backed away.

A sweeper approached the pretender, a syringe in his hand.

Jarod couldn't fight his panic anymore. "No..no.. please, no." He cried as they approached him, lashing out with his feet. His left sleeve was pulled up, and the needle painfully inserted into his arm.

Jarod let out a cry of frustration as the sweepers then easily pulled the hood over his head, tightening the cord under his chin. He tried to fight the panic, fight the sedative that threatened to pull him into oblivion.

He flinched as a hand touched his shoulder, as if attempting to comfort.

Jarod turned his head from side to side, pulled on his shackles, desperately fighting the drug. The hand squeezed his shoulder in comfort as his thrashing slowly dissipated, the sedative overpowering him.

"This is not how our story ends rat. Don't forget that."

He moaned, the drug preventing him from speaking. The hand on his shoulder squeezed again.

He would wake up in Africa.

But he wasn't alone. They would come for him.

And that was all that mattered.

With a small sigh, Jarod allowed the void to swallow him.

It was afterall, just the beginning.