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He huddled in the air duct, a silent guardian. He had been silent and still for hours just like the prostrate figure through the vent. No Cracker Jacks in his pocket today; he didn't need that emotional comfort. But Jarod did. Jarod was sad.

It was breathlessly quiet - not like when they had brought Jarod home. Angelo's face twisted with hurt as violent images and loud sounds flashed back through his head. He knew that this - this dark concrete room - wasn't really Jarod's home. And he knew that Jarod was sad to be in this place that wasn't his home, but...

Angelo frowned. No, the anger hadn't come from that.

A new set of images played themselves in his mind. Another person lying on another bed, but here it was white and unnaturally bright. He shuddered. In that room, there had been no loud sounds, but the same sadness had reached out to suffocate him.

A cool draft swirled past his face, bringing momentary clarity to his mind. The puzzle was there and he struggled to grasp it. Jarod and the white room. He turned clouded blue eyes to the man lying on the bed and tried to make the connection. Was Jarod sad about the white room?

Of their own volition, Jarod's moans returned from his memory, echoing in his ears as if they had just finished echoing in the room.

"Parker - is she alive?" Jarod had pleaded with his unresponsive captors. "Did they stop the bleeding? Please, let me help her."

No one had responded. Playing deaf and dumb, the Centre men had vanished and left Jarod to his own horrors. Left him to overturn furniture and smash surveillance cameras in the agony of helplessness.

Angelo moaned low in his own throat and dug his fists into his face. Helpless. He knew what it felt like to be helpless...

"Angelo."

The hoarse whisper was in his ear and he raised his head. Jarod was standing next to him now, his breath amplified by the narrow confine.

"Have you seen her?"

Angelo's mouth twitched with the memory of the Daughter lying in the white room. He listened to the white-coated people in his mind and heard murmurs like "coma" and "zero reactivity". He didn't say those words to Jarod. He didn't know what to say.

"Hurt," he said, finally.

"How bad, Angelo? Did she ever...wake up?"

Angelo turned his head away, rubbing his knees comfortingly, jutting his lip out in feigned ignorance.

"Hurt bad."

Jarod's fingers gripped the grate, clenching and releasing with barely controlled emotion. He finally slammed his head forward and let out an anguished groan.

"Why did you do it, Parker? Why did it have to be your life for his?"

A shuddery sob escaped Jarod's chest. "I should have known what would happen. I should have pretended the scenario and seen that they wanted to kill him. I should have known that they would...that you would..."

Quieter now, he mumbled, "You were willing to die for him before. I should have protected him. I should have protected you."

Angelo frowned. He understood now. The puzzle fit together with a snap in his head. Jarod didn't want comfort from the Cracker Jacks; he didn't want the pain to go away. He wanted to be sad and angry against himself because the Daughter was hurt. Even though it wasn't his fault.

Wisdom lit Angelo's coarse features. He knew what he had to do.

He reached into his shirt pocket, the place where the Cracker Jacks usually were. "Daddy's Angel," he said.

Jarod's chin snapped upwards with the familiar words. Angelo raised his hand and there, between his fingers, was a small, white ceramic angel. He turned it slowly, letting the dim light glow off of the wings and the gown and the cherub face.

He then looked at Jarod and saw that those haunted brown eyes had turned hungry.

"Give it to me."

Fingers strained through the grate, strained to touch the angel that belonged to her. Angelo knew that Jarod had given this figurine to the Daughter, the Angel. And now Jarod wanted it back, to touch and remember. He wanted to feel her through it.

Angelo shook his head.

"Give it to me, Angelo. Please," he repeated, this time more desperate.

Angelo looked back at the angel and trailed it hypnotically through the air, ever downwards in a slow, jerking dance. Two pair of eyes watched entranced as it hovered above the duct floor and then settled there. Jarod groped for it, but it was set deliberately outside the reach of his fingertips.

Angelo ran his fingers over the smooth curvatures and said, "Angel fell. Shot. Raines shot Angel."

"It was my fault," Jarod persisted weakly.

Angelo shook his head and began slowly rocking, back and forth, back and forth. "Couldn't save Angel. Couldn't reach Angel. Can't reach Angel now."

"I should have stopped her." Jarod's voice was increasingly feeble, drained of strength.

Angelo paused and touched Jarod's now limp fingers, offering childlike comfort. The Pretender was begging for absolution. Angelo wrapped his fist around the figurine. There was only one absolution he could offer.

"Broken Angel. Not your fault." And then he squeezed.

Jarod thrust his hands forward. "No!"

The cracking was audible. Smooth white powder fell from Angelo's fist, and he opened his fingers to reveal the figurine, wings crushed and broken beyond repair. He laid the pieces tenderly on the ground before Jarod's horrified face.

"Broken," he said again. "Can't fix. Can't fix Angel."

Jarod pressed his forehead against the grate, silent for several long heartbeats as he stared at the crumbled ceramic. Finally, he nodded, haltingly and painfully. Angelo could feel that Jarod's heart was hurting, but he had accepted the truth. He couldn't help her. It wasn't his fault.

Angelo patted Jarod's fingers once again and when there was no response, he turned to half-crawl back up the tunnel.

Just as he was about to round the corner, he felt another breath of air-conditioned air hit his face and he paused to look back over his shoulder. Jarod stood there still, eyes closed, forehead pressed to the vent opening. While Angelo watched, the cool draft lifted the angel powder, swirling it into the air. He held his breath as the fairy-dust cloud reached out almost deliberately to caress Jarod's face and then spun and vanished into the darkness beyond.

Angelo felt his face tug into a lop-sided smile. Sometimes miracles happened. Maybe the Angel would come back to him after all.

END









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