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Nursery Rhymes
by Rebeckah
It had been almost a week since Leonard had been shot to death trying to pass her information about her mother’s project, Mirage. Parker had managed to resist the pull, but finally she found herself retracing the steps to SL26 and the incinerator. She walked slowly through the iron bars dividing the furnace area from the rest of the underground corridor, not really wanting to be there, and yet, needing to be there.
On the floor she thought she could still see traces of blood, both Leonard’s and the other employee who’d been shot to death that day. Parker knelt, drawing a respectful finger along the rusty brown stain on the stark concrete floor.
"I wish we could have gotten to know each other." Parker whispered; to the air, to his spirit, to God? She didn’t know for sure.
Finally she stood back up and headed back towards the elevator. As she neared it she thought she could hear a woman’s voice quietly singing. She stopped dead in her tracks, listening, then the voice sounded again, but higher in pitch and chanting a nursery rhyme.
"Ring a ring of roses,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes, they all fall down!"
Parker stepped cautiously closer to the other end of the hallway where the voice was coming from.
"No, Timmy," the voice went on in scolding tones. "It’s "bullets, bullets, they all fall down!"
"I don’t like bullets! They bang!" It was the same voice, but lowered in an obvious attempt to portray a different speaker.
Parker felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as it dawned on her that the person she was hearing might very well be insane, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her ignore this mystery. She crept closer, having finally spotted a metal door with a small, barred window at head level.
"They banged before Mommy went to sleep." The female persona agreed sadly. "That’s why she didn’t come save us from the bad men."
"I don’t want Mommy to sleep anymore." The male voice replied.
Parker was peering cautiously into the window by now, but she could barely believe her eyes. The door opened into a room nearly identical to the one that Jarod had been held in during his recent stay at the Centre. The differences to this cage were that the occupant was allowed actual furniture. She was perched on the bed, which attached to the wall as Jarod’s had, but was covered by a thin, dingy mattress and a thinner, moth eaten wool blanket. In each hand she held a bundle of rags that had been cunningly knotted and wrapped together to form a male and female doll. Parker watched disbelief as the woman wiggled the girl doll and sadly replied.
"I don’t either, Timmy, but I think it’s too late now. Mommy must have gone to sleep for a hundred years, just like Rip Van Winkle."
"But if she doesn’t wake up, who will save us from the bad men?" The boy doll wiggled in reply.
The woman on the bed bit her lip, obviously at a loss for an answer to this question. Parker held her breath, wondering what she’d come up with.
"Don’t cry, Timmy." She finally pleaded. "I miss Mommy too. I’ll sing you her song and we’ll feel better, okay?"
The woman carefully laid her two dolls onto the nearly flat pillow of her bed, lovingly smoothed their non-existent hair back, and began to sing in a pleasant, contralto:
"Hush-a-by, don’t you cry,
go to sleep my little baby.
And in your dreams, you will see,
all the pretty little ponies."
Parker backed slowly away, her head reeling as she tried to digest what she’d just seen. Who was this woman? Parker couldn’t even tell her age. She was obviously an adult, but she was small boned and probably not very tall. She was certainly grubby and far too thin, and her hair, which had fallen loosely down her back to rest on the cot, had probably not been combed in years, much less cut.
She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator to respond to her call, and paced restlessly while it carried her up from the depths of the Centre basements. Her mind was so completely focused on this new mystery that she didn’t even notice her brother Lyle waiting for her when the elevator doors opened. She brushed by him without a word, not from rudeness, but, for once, simply oblivious. Her introspection lasted until she burst into the lab that Sydney used for his infrequent Centre experiments and his constant hunt for Jarod.
"Sydney!"
As usual, Broots was also in the large room, hunched over a computer screen, and, also as usual, he jumped three feet when she burst in.
"Where’s the fire, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked with lazy geniality, putting down the danish he’d been snacking on.
"Sydney, I’ve found something that you’ll never believe!" Parker burst out.
Then she paused, wondering for the first time if Sydney might already know about this mystery woman. Just a moments reflection made her decide that Sydney would never have been a party to whatever it was that had imprisoned that poor woman below.
"What?" Broots asked warily, suspecting that whatever she’d found would end up being unpleasant for him.
"Come." She ordered with completely unconscious arrogance.
For once she wasn’t trying to be bitchy or intimidating, she was just eager to solve this mystery. She would never admit it out loud, hadn’t really even admitted it to herself yet, but the woman had struck a chord in her. She felt immediately sorry for the obviously disturbed woman, but she also felt a disturbing kinship with her.
Like the mystery woman, Parker was in a prison---although hers was one of the mind and heart, and not one of metal bars. And, like that woman, gunshots and the loss of a mother figured highly in her memories.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. Parker realized with a shiver of repulsion. Maybe not playing with dolls, but, if she was honest with herself, (which she tried not to be as much as possible), she had to admit that a part of her was forever frozen at the moment her mother had been murdered.
"C’mon!" She told the elevator impatiently, trying to shake her unsettling thoughts.
She knew that Broots and Sydney had followed her, but really didn’t remember the journey from the lab back to the elevators. She only returned to her surroundings when some other Centre employees started to board the elevator, and she glared them off. But she ignored Sydney and Broots questions, and their protests when she punched the code for SL-26.
"No," she finally responded to their protests. "I don’t think this has anything to do with Leonard’s death---but you never know here." She added in a barely audible mutter.
Moments later the elevator opened and she gestured them to silence, leading them down the hallway. She practically tiptoed to the door, much to Broots’ confusion and Sydney’s amusement, and peeked in cautiously. Her heart dropped when she realized that the cell appeared completely empty.
"She was in there!" She hissed quietly at Sydney.
"She who?" Sydney asked over a barely suppressed chuckle.
"I don’t know, but she was there. Does this door open?" Parker pulled on the rusted door, and to her amazement it actually opened with a groan.
"I don’t think we should do this!" Broots protested anxiously as Parker slid into the narrow opening.
Heels clicking on the concrete, she went to the bars and stared intently into the cell. There was no place for the woman to hide. The tiny toilet area had a wide open door, the desk was angled against the bars so that no one could hide underneath it.
"Where is she?" Parker muttered in frustration.
"Georgie porgie puddin pie!" A female voice chanted, her voice tense and a little angry.
"Kissed the girls and made them cry!
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie porgie RAN AWAY!"
The last two words were shrieked out, and all three of them were halfway to the door before they realized it. Parker dug in her heels against the tidalwave of mental pressure pushing her to leave, and grabbed the arms of both men firmly, halting them too.
"We aren’t going to hurt you." She called out, hauling both herself and her companions around to face the cell.
"Georgie porgie ran away!" The voice came again, insistently but with an undertone of bewilderment. "Away!"
"We just want to talk to you." Parker tried again. "To help you."
"Missy Parker, quite contrary---hush-a-bye, don’t you cry---Missy Parker."
Suddenly all three of them could see the wary blue eyes of the small woman peering at them from under her bed. She was in a shadow, but still should have been easily visible to them. Broots and Sydney were wondering just what was going on, but Parker was just beginning to have her suspicions confirmed.
"What do you mean, don’t you cry?" She asked with a gentleness that amazed the two men.
"Missy Parker, quite contrary." The woman answered contentedly.
"Sydney, do you know who she is?" Parker asked, crouching down to meet the woman’s eyes.
"I’m not sure." Sydney replied in the troubled voice that meant he had a good idea, and just hoped that he was wrong.
"Dr. Sydney walked to the Centre, in the pouring rain.
He stepped in a puddle,
right up to his middle,
and never was seen again." The woman recited, watching Sydney with a faintly accusing look in her sapphire blue eyes.
"Hey! I know that one!" Broots exclaimed with delight. "But it’s Dr. Worster…" His voice trailed of lamely as he noticed the glares directed at him by both Parker and Sydney.
"So who is she?" Parker demanded again, positive now that he knew. "Mother Goose?"
"I’m not sure." Sydney hedged uncomfortably, his eyes riveted to the woman under the cot.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Hanging from a telephone wire." The woman chanted, a child’s mischief glinting in her eyes.
"Well, Sydney?" Parker’s brow was at a sardonic angle that would have done Spock proud.
"I know who she might be, but I’m not sure. I know who might be able to tell us, though." Sydney responded quietly.
"Angelo?" Broots suggested.
"Raines." Parker decided flatly.
"Angel child go to sleep,
Rest your heavy eyes.
Night has fallen, still and deep,
The moon rides starlit skies.
Mother’s love will keep you warm,
Her arms will hold you tight.
Her prayers will keep you safe from harm,
And guard you through the night.
Angel Child, mother’s gold,
Never shed a tear.
The bond of love will always hold,
I’ll always hold you dear."
Contrary to the final verse of the poem, a tear trickled down the strange woman’s face as she ended her recital, gently smoothing the non-existent hair on the boy doll’s head.
"I don’t know that one." Broots whispered softly.
"It isn’t a nursery rhyme." Sydney responded absently, studying the woman who was studiously ignoring them by focusing on her dolls. "I think you’re right, though, Broots. We should get Angelo’s help in identifying our----Mother Goose." He added with a troubled frown.
"Will she go up to his room with us?" Parker asked doubtfully, also studying the woman. It appeared to her that the stranger had taken up permanent residence in the far corner under her cot.
The woman inched further into the corner, surprising the other three who thought she was as far back as it was possible to get.
"Take the key and lock her up,
lock her up, lock her up.
Take the key and lock her up,
My fair lady." She sing-songed in a thin undertone, clutching her dolls protectively to her thin chest and staring blankly into an empty space between her three visitors.
"Don’t you want to leave this nasty cell?" Broots asked her gently.
He’d moved directly in front of her, forcing her to look and him, and knelt unselfconsciously on the dirty concrete floor.
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her.
Put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well." She replied seriously, staring straight into Broots’ concerned face.
"But it’s nice up there." He coaxed with far more stubbornness than his colleagues were accustomed to seeing from him.
"There he kept her very well." She repeated firmly.
"I don’t understand!" A hint of frustration crept into Broots’ voice and the woman seemed to pull back further, as if she was afraid he’d grab her and force her out of the dismal cell. "Why don’t you want to come with us?"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones!" She answered with more than a hint of hysteria in her voice.
"She’s afraid someone will punish her if she leaves." Sydney explained, gently pulling Broots away from the now terrified woman.
"Raines?" Parker asked dryly, confident of the correctness of her guess.
Sydney opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance.
"Raines, Raines, go away!
Never come no other day!" She chanted fervently, then, reassured by the removal of Broots, she turned her back on her obviously unwelcome guests and began to croon another lullaby to her dolls.
Parker led the silent trio back to the elevators.
"Interesting mode of communication she has." She mentioned with overdone casualness. "I notice she doesn’t keep to the original nursery rhyme if it doesn’t suit her purposes."
"Yes." Sydney agreed, with the same degree of artificial nonchalance. "Quite an ingenious way to tell us what she wants us to know without ever actually speaking for herself."
"Well I just think it’s strange!" Broots complained unhappily. "Why would anyone choose to stay in that nasty cell."
"Because she believes the alternative is worse?" Parker suggested dryly.
"Because she believes the consequences would be worse." Sydney corrected thoughtfully.
"Whatever." Parker dismissed the issue impatiently as the elevator doors opened on their floor. "You find Angelo, Sydney----Broots and I are going to search the mainframe."
"We are?" Broots asked miserably.
"This is the Centre, Broots." Parker explained firmly. "There’s a record on that woman somewhere."
"Of course, Miss Parker." Broots followed Parker’s clicking heels like a dog that had just been kicked, but had no one better adore.
Sydney left to track down the elusive Angelo.
*****
"Find anything interesting?" Sydney questioned as he entered the lab with Angelo in tow.
Parker and Broots were staring intently at Broots’ computer screen and didn’t acknowledge Sydney’s question. Both wore the revolted, yet mesmerized expressions of a passerby watching the scene of an accident.
"Wait for me here, Angelo." Sydney ordered quietly, suspecting that the savant didn’t need to see whatever it was that had enthralled the other two. He approached the computer screen with an unaccustomed feeling of dread, which was quickly justified by what he saw.
"No! No! Bring my brother back! I want my Timmy!"
The child couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5. Even if her words hadn’t confirmed her relationship to Angelo, her blond curls and deep blue eyes would have. She was crying desperately, her tearstained face pressed against he bars of the same barren cell that Parker had discovered her in earlier this day. One hand clutched the cold iron bars while the other stretched hopelessly out towards her brother, who was being hustled out of the room by a hulking guard.
"Stop it!" Raines moved into view of the camera, approaching the bars as he glared at the tiny girl. "Cease this tantrum this instant, or you’ll be punished!"
The girl snatched her hand back inside the bars and moved back a step, placing her hands carefully behind her back.
"Please don’t hurt Timmy anymore." She begged with heartrending earnestness. "I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t cry anymore and I’ll eat all my food, even the yucky stuff."
"You know what I want you to do." Raines answered with deadly coldness. The girl’s eyes dropped uncertainly.
"But it doesn’t work on Timmy!" She protested desperately. "I’ve tried and tried."
"What about the boy Jarod?" Raines asked with deceptive gentleness. "Why hasn’t there been any change in his behavior?"
"I don’t know." The child sobbed. "I don’t know why it doesn’t always work. Maybe he’s too big. PLEASE, don’t hurt Timmy anymore." She blurted out, almost against her will.
"That is not acceptable." Raines told her with icy fury. "It has worked on Mr. Parker, it has worked on various Sweepers, if it does not work with Timothy or Jarod it must be because you don’t want it to."
"But, it works a little on Jarod, doesn’t it?" She asked seriously. "He doesn’t cry for his Mommy and Daddy anymore, does he? He doesn’t remember that you asked him to do those things for you. I try Dr. Raines, really!"
"Trying isn’t enough, Trina." Raines returned implacably. "Success is the only thing that will save your brother."
The girl bit her lip, tears welling up in her big blue eyes.
"If I try again will you leave Timmy alone?" She implored in a broken whisper.
"No, Rinnie!" The boy hollered, struggling for the first time against the adult holding him. "Don’t listen to him! He’s a BAD man!"
"Too late." Raines answered with artificial sorrow. "You hear how he behaves? He must be taught. But I won’t make you come along this time, if you promise to make sure Mr. Parker approves my budget tomorrow."
"Yes, Sir." She agreed in a choked voice.
"Very well, then, I’ll return in the morning. Make sure you are ready for me."
"Yes, Sir." She repeated, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she stared longingly at her older brother.
She pressed her lips together on further pleadings with a maturity far beyond her age and retreated to her cot to huddle miserably in the far corner, crystal tears shining down her desolate face.
"So that’s how the old buzzard kept himself in power." Parker breathed, her eyes glittering with barely repressed anger.
"Apparently Trina is an empath, like her brother, but her empathy is projective rather than receptive." Sydney speculated.
"Was she the one he wanted in the first place?" Parker wondered.
"I doubt he had any idea of her abilities, or even of Angelo’s, he simply pushed until he got something he wanted."
"Well, I’ve seen enough." Parker declared firmly. "Let’s get Angelo down there and get her out of that cell."
"I’m not sure it will be that easy." Sydney murmured thoughtfully. "Raines has obviously used Trina’s love for her brother against her for many years. She may not be able to see past her fear of Raines and what he she thinks he can do to her and her brother."
"Then I’ll drag that self-righteous bastard down there by his oxygen tubes and force him to tell her to go with us." She promised grimly.
"Are there more DSAs?" Sydney asked her.
"Yes, we found a case of them." Broots told him, confusion written on his expressive face.
"Make sure they get to my office." Sydney told the technician firmly. "I’m going to have to know exactly what Raines did to her if I’m going to have any hope of helping her."
"Help Trina." Angelo agreed solemnly, his blue eyes looking exactly like his sister’s as he silently begged Sydney to help his sister.
"We will." It was Parker who answered, her customary determination to see only what she wanted to happen coming to the fore. "One way or another, we will."
She spun on one heel, heading for the door. She fully expected the three men to follow her without question, and she wasn’t disappointed in that expectation. They caught up with her in front of the elevators.
Trina sat in exactly the same place and position as they’d left her, cradling her dolls in the corner under her utilitarian cot. Her noon meal sat untouched on the small desk, congealed into an even more unappetizing mess than it had been to begin with. She glanced up when the unoiled door screeched, announcing the arrival of her four would-be saviors.
When her gaze fell on Angelo she lit up like a sunrise for an instant, but then terror crossed her face and she looked down at her dolls—closing them all out of her mind. It was as if she believed she could ignore them away from her presence.
"Trina?" Parker asked in the gentlest voice any of the men had ever heard issue from her lips. She knelt down in front of the frightened woman with complete disregard for the damage the floor was doing for her nylons. "Trina? We’ve brought your brother with us. Don’t you want to come and see him?"
"No, no, no, no, no…." She whispered rapidly, barely seeming to pause for breath. "There is no Timmy, there is only Angelo. No, no, no, no, no…."
Parker looked up at Sydney, helpless frustration on her face.
"It’s okay, Trina." Broots dropped down into a cross-legged sitting position next to Parker. "No one will hurt you anymore, or Angelo. You’re safe now. We won’t let Raines hurt you ever again."
His gaze was focused on the damaged woman in front of him, so he missed the amazed looks that Sydney and Parker exchanged. They'd never heard Broots set himself so openly against Raines before.
Trina stopped her restless rocking and looked at Broots assessingly, her head cocked to one side like a curious bird.
"There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
She was very, very good." She stopped her recital at that point, staring expectantly at Broots.
When he did nothing but frown at her with confusion she repeated;
"When she was good, she was very, very good."
"Sydney?" Broots implored, still staring at her.
"I believe she thinks we are a test set up by Raines." Sydney offered dryly, studying the woman with clinical detachment.
"She was very good." Trina nodded at Sydney, seeming relieved that he understood.
"Yes, Trina, you have been very good." Sydney agreed gently. "And that’s why you can visit with your brother."
Trina astounded them all as tears filled her eyes and spilled over on her cheeks.
"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find him." She informed them sadly. "Poor lost sheep—we can’t find him."
"But Angelo’s right here with us." Broots told her with gentle confusion, looking up briefly to verify that Angelo was indeed in the cell with them, although he did seem to be hovering uncertainly by the door rather than actually joining them.
"There is no Timmy, there is only Angelo." Trina agreed sadly.
"Angelo is your brother, Trina." Parker assured her. "Say hello to him."
"All the king’s horses,
And all the king’s men,
Couldn’t put Timmy,
Back together again." Trina confided earnestly.
"Sydney?" This time it was Parker who appealed to the psychologist, although it was more of a demand than an appeal.
"I’m not sure." Sydney replied thoughtfully. "I don’t know if she’d afraid that Timmy will be hurt if she speaks to him, or if she refuses to accept Angelo as her brother."
"What are you doing with my subject?"
Raines raspy voice sounded from just outside the tiny cell, startling all the inhabitants. Angelo jumped, and edged towards the small desk and away from Raines, Parker stiffened, before rising slowly to glare and Raines, Broots turned an interesting shade of green and Trina turned paper white, her blue eyes the only trace of color on her face. Sydney merely turned to confront the man who had once been a colleague.
"So, you admit that you’ve done this to her?" He asked blandly.
"Done what?" Raines demanded irritably, frowning at everyone in the cell impartially.
"Destroyed yet another useful tool." Sydney returned bitingly.
"She’s more useful now than she’s ever been." Raines snapped.
"To you, maybe, but I doubt the Triumvirate will appreciate a tool that they cannot use." He threatened blandly. "I doubt they’ll be happy to learn that you’ve used her against them, either." He added, making a shrewd guess and hitting the mark squarely, if the sputter that came from Raines was any indication.
"Don’t threaten me, Sydney." He finally growled in return. "If you expose me to the Triumvirate then they will undoubtedly ship her off to Africa—and your bleeding heart won’t stand for that."
"I don’t think the Triumvirate will want a tool that they can’t use." Sydney repeated calmly. "And I’m certainly willing to take the chance that I’ve misjudged them if it means taking you down."
"What do you want?" Raines caved in suddenly, his complexion turning a muddy gray in an instant.
"Release her to me." Sydney replied instantly. "Make it clear to her that she no longer has to fear you and tell her that she can follow my instruction."
"So you can use her against the Triumvirate?" Raines snarled nastily.
Unnoticed by any of the others, Angelo and Trina’s eyes met and locked.
’Push Raines, Trina.’ Angelo told her silently, his lips never moving.
’Timmy?’ She question in that same silent way.
’I was Timmy once.’ He hedged. ’Make Raines say "yes" to Sydney. We can be together again.’
’He’ll know.’ She protested, her eyes growing round. He’ll put you in the machine again!’
’No he won’t. Sydney won’t let him. You can trust Sydney, Trina.’
Trina looked at the arguing men doubtfully. The exchange between Angelo and her had only taken seconds. Sydney was waiting for Raines’ answer. She drew in a silent breath, and pushed at him to agree with the psychiatrist.
"All right!" Raines growled at last. "But only if you agree to remove her from the Centre entirely." He added cunningly.
"I won’t have her used against me." He grumbled, half to himself.
No! Don’t make me leave Timmy! She protested silently.
"I’ll arrange living quarters for her elsewhere, but she will return regularly to visit with her brother." Sydney countered instantly.
"Maybe on weekends, when no one else is really around." Raines wavered.
"Whenever I choose to bring her." Sydney argued. "Unlike you, I have no need to use her unique abilities to get what I want."
"You give your word not to use her against me."
"Oh, stop this nonsense!" Parker snapped. "Raines, she’d going with us, with your blessing, or I’m going to have a talk with Daddy this instant. And she isn’t going off of Centre property. Her brother is here and you’ve already stolen far too much time from them already."
Her glare was hot enough to melt steel.
"Have it your way!" Raines caved in completely; whether from the pressure of Sydney and Parker or from the mental pressure from Trina was unclear. "Just keep her out of my sight."
He turned to leave.
"Not so fast, Raines!" Parker’s voice was razor sharp. "You have something to tell Trina first."
Raines sighed heavily and turned to face the woman.
"Trina, I won’t be taking care of you anymore." He told her with saccharine sweetness. "You listen to Sydney and Miss Parker and be a good girl for them."
Trina nodded solemnly, her blue eyes open wide.
"But if I ever discover that you’ve used your gift against me, I’ll cut your brother into pieces right before your eyes." He added in a rapid snarl, before Sydney or Parker could intervene. "Do you understand?"
Trina nodded again, seeming thoroughly cowed.
"That will be all, Raines." Sydney stepped between Raines and Trina and folded his arms firmly.
"I’m leaving." Raines groused. "Father Matthew is waiting for me."
Silence reigned in the dismal cell until the elevator doors closed on Raines unpleasant visage. Then everyone turned to face Trina again.
"Did you understand that, Trina?" Sydney asked her quietly. "Raines has placed you in my care."
Trina nodded silently.
"Then I want you to come with me to the upper levels." He told her, in the same, quiet voice. "I’m going to give you a room next to your brother. Would you like that?"
Trina just watched him warily.
To be continued…
by Rebeckah
It had been almost a week since Leonard had been shot to death trying to pass her information about her mother’s project, Mirage. Parker had managed to resist the pull, but finally she found herself retracing the steps to SL26 and the incinerator. She walked slowly through the iron bars dividing the furnace area from the rest of the underground corridor, not really wanting to be there, and yet, needing to be there.
On the floor she thought she could still see traces of blood, both Leonard’s and the other employee who’d been shot to death that day. Parker knelt, drawing a respectful finger along the rusty brown stain on the stark concrete floor.
"I wish we could have gotten to know each other." Parker whispered; to the air, to his spirit, to God? She didn’t know for sure.
Finally she stood back up and headed back towards the elevator. As she neared it she thought she could hear a woman’s voice quietly singing. She stopped dead in her tracks, listening, then the voice sounded again, but higher in pitch and chanting a nursery rhyme.
"Ring a ring of roses,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes, they all fall down!"
Parker stepped cautiously closer to the other end of the hallway where the voice was coming from.
"No, Timmy," the voice went on in scolding tones. "It’s "bullets, bullets, they all fall down!"
"I don’t like bullets! They bang!" It was the same voice, but lowered in an obvious attempt to portray a different speaker.
Parker felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as it dawned on her that the person she was hearing might very well be insane, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her ignore this mystery. She crept closer, having finally spotted a metal door with a small, barred window at head level.
"They banged before Mommy went to sleep." The female persona agreed sadly. "That’s why she didn’t come save us from the bad men."
"I don’t want Mommy to sleep anymore." The male voice replied.
Parker was peering cautiously into the window by now, but she could barely believe her eyes. The door opened into a room nearly identical to the one that Jarod had been held in during his recent stay at the Centre. The differences to this cage were that the occupant was allowed actual furniture. She was perched on the bed, which attached to the wall as Jarod’s had, but was covered by a thin, dingy mattress and a thinner, moth eaten wool blanket. In each hand she held a bundle of rags that had been cunningly knotted and wrapped together to form a male and female doll. Parker watched disbelief as the woman wiggled the girl doll and sadly replied.
"I don’t either, Timmy, but I think it’s too late now. Mommy must have gone to sleep for a hundred years, just like Rip Van Winkle."
"But if she doesn’t wake up, who will save us from the bad men?" The boy doll wiggled in reply.
The woman on the bed bit her lip, obviously at a loss for an answer to this question. Parker held her breath, wondering what she’d come up with.
"Don’t cry, Timmy." She finally pleaded. "I miss Mommy too. I’ll sing you her song and we’ll feel better, okay?"
The woman carefully laid her two dolls onto the nearly flat pillow of her bed, lovingly smoothed their non-existent hair back, and began to sing in a pleasant, contralto:
"Hush-a-by, don’t you cry,
go to sleep my little baby.
And in your dreams, you will see,
all the pretty little ponies."
Parker backed slowly away, her head reeling as she tried to digest what she’d just seen. Who was this woman? Parker couldn’t even tell her age. She was obviously an adult, but she was small boned and probably not very tall. She was certainly grubby and far too thin, and her hair, which had fallen loosely down her back to rest on the cot, had probably not been combed in years, much less cut.
She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator to respond to her call, and paced restlessly while it carried her up from the depths of the Centre basements. Her mind was so completely focused on this new mystery that she didn’t even notice her brother Lyle waiting for her when the elevator doors opened. She brushed by him without a word, not from rudeness, but, for once, simply oblivious. Her introspection lasted until she burst into the lab that Sydney used for his infrequent Centre experiments and his constant hunt for Jarod.
"Sydney!"
As usual, Broots was also in the large room, hunched over a computer screen, and, also as usual, he jumped three feet when she burst in.
"Where’s the fire, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked with lazy geniality, putting down the danish he’d been snacking on.
"Sydney, I’ve found something that you’ll never believe!" Parker burst out.
Then she paused, wondering for the first time if Sydney might already know about this mystery woman. Just a moments reflection made her decide that Sydney would never have been a party to whatever it was that had imprisoned that poor woman below.
"What?" Broots asked warily, suspecting that whatever she’d found would end up being unpleasant for him.
"Come." She ordered with completely unconscious arrogance.
For once she wasn’t trying to be bitchy or intimidating, she was just eager to solve this mystery. She would never admit it out loud, hadn’t really even admitted it to herself yet, but the woman had struck a chord in her. She felt immediately sorry for the obviously disturbed woman, but she also felt a disturbing kinship with her.
Like the mystery woman, Parker was in a prison---although hers was one of the mind and heart, and not one of metal bars. And, like that woman, gunshots and the loss of a mother figured highly in her memories.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. Parker realized with a shiver of repulsion. Maybe not playing with dolls, but, if she was honest with herself, (which she tried not to be as much as possible), she had to admit that a part of her was forever frozen at the moment her mother had been murdered.
"C’mon!" She told the elevator impatiently, trying to shake her unsettling thoughts.
She knew that Broots and Sydney had followed her, but really didn’t remember the journey from the lab back to the elevators. She only returned to her surroundings when some other Centre employees started to board the elevator, and she glared them off. But she ignored Sydney and Broots questions, and their protests when she punched the code for SL-26.
"No," she finally responded to their protests. "I don’t think this has anything to do with Leonard’s death---but you never know here." She added in a barely audible mutter.
Moments later the elevator opened and she gestured them to silence, leading them down the hallway. She practically tiptoed to the door, much to Broots’ confusion and Sydney’s amusement, and peeked in cautiously. Her heart dropped when she realized that the cell appeared completely empty.
"She was in there!" She hissed quietly at Sydney.
"She who?" Sydney asked over a barely suppressed chuckle.
"I don’t know, but she was there. Does this door open?" Parker pulled on the rusted door, and to her amazement it actually opened with a groan.
"I don’t think we should do this!" Broots protested anxiously as Parker slid into the narrow opening.
Heels clicking on the concrete, she went to the bars and stared intently into the cell. There was no place for the woman to hide. The tiny toilet area had a wide open door, the desk was angled against the bars so that no one could hide underneath it.
"Where is she?" Parker muttered in frustration.
"Georgie porgie puddin pie!" A female voice chanted, her voice tense and a little angry.
"Kissed the girls and made them cry!
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie porgie RAN AWAY!"
The last two words were shrieked out, and all three of them were halfway to the door before they realized it. Parker dug in her heels against the tidalwave of mental pressure pushing her to leave, and grabbed the arms of both men firmly, halting them too.
"We aren’t going to hurt you." She called out, hauling both herself and her companions around to face the cell.
"Georgie porgie ran away!" The voice came again, insistently but with an undertone of bewilderment. "Away!"
"We just want to talk to you." Parker tried again. "To help you."
"Missy Parker, quite contrary---hush-a-bye, don’t you cry---Missy Parker."
Suddenly all three of them could see the wary blue eyes of the small woman peering at them from under her bed. She was in a shadow, but still should have been easily visible to them. Broots and Sydney were wondering just what was going on, but Parker was just beginning to have her suspicions confirmed.
"What do you mean, don’t you cry?" She asked with a gentleness that amazed the two men.
"Missy Parker, quite contrary." The woman answered contentedly.
"Sydney, do you know who she is?" Parker asked, crouching down to meet the woman’s eyes.
"I’m not sure." Sydney replied in the troubled voice that meant he had a good idea, and just hoped that he was wrong.
"Dr. Sydney walked to the Centre, in the pouring rain.
He stepped in a puddle,
right up to his middle,
and never was seen again." The woman recited, watching Sydney with a faintly accusing look in her sapphire blue eyes.
"Hey! I know that one!" Broots exclaimed with delight. "But it’s Dr. Worster…" His voice trailed of lamely as he noticed the glares directed at him by both Parker and Sydney.
"So who is she?" Parker demanded again, positive now that he knew. "Mother Goose?"
"I’m not sure." Sydney hedged uncomfortably, his eyes riveted to the woman under the cot.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!
Hanging from a telephone wire." The woman chanted, a child’s mischief glinting in her eyes.
"Well, Sydney?" Parker’s brow was at a sardonic angle that would have done Spock proud.
"I know who she might be, but I’m not sure. I know who might be able to tell us, though." Sydney responded quietly.
"Angelo?" Broots suggested.
"Raines." Parker decided flatly.
"Angel child go to sleep,
Rest your heavy eyes.
Night has fallen, still and deep,
The moon rides starlit skies.
Mother’s love will keep you warm,
Her arms will hold you tight.
Her prayers will keep you safe from harm,
And guard you through the night.
Angel Child, mother’s gold,
Never shed a tear.
The bond of love will always hold,
I’ll always hold you dear."
Contrary to the final verse of the poem, a tear trickled down the strange woman’s face as she ended her recital, gently smoothing the non-existent hair on the boy doll’s head.
"I don’t know that one." Broots whispered softly.
"It isn’t a nursery rhyme." Sydney responded absently, studying the woman who was studiously ignoring them by focusing on her dolls. "I think you’re right, though, Broots. We should get Angelo’s help in identifying our----Mother Goose." He added with a troubled frown.
"Will she go up to his room with us?" Parker asked doubtfully, also studying the woman. It appeared to her that the stranger had taken up permanent residence in the far corner under her cot.
The woman inched further into the corner, surprising the other three who thought she was as far back as it was possible to get.
"Take the key and lock her up,
lock her up, lock her up.
Take the key and lock her up,
My fair lady." She sing-songed in a thin undertone, clutching her dolls protectively to her thin chest and staring blankly into an empty space between her three visitors.
"Don’t you want to leave this nasty cell?" Broots asked her gently.
He’d moved directly in front of her, forcing her to look and him, and knelt unselfconsciously on the dirty concrete floor.
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her.
Put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well." She replied seriously, staring straight into Broots’ concerned face.
"But it’s nice up there." He coaxed with far more stubbornness than his colleagues were accustomed to seeing from him.
"There he kept her very well." She repeated firmly.
"I don’t understand!" A hint of frustration crept into Broots’ voice and the woman seemed to pull back further, as if she was afraid he’d grab her and force her out of the dismal cell. "Why don’t you want to come with us?"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones!" She answered with more than a hint of hysteria in her voice.
"She’s afraid someone will punish her if she leaves." Sydney explained, gently pulling Broots away from the now terrified woman.
"Raines?" Parker asked dryly, confident of the correctness of her guess.
Sydney opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance.
"Raines, Raines, go away!
Never come no other day!" She chanted fervently, then, reassured by the removal of Broots, she turned her back on her obviously unwelcome guests and began to croon another lullaby to her dolls.
Parker led the silent trio back to the elevators.
"Interesting mode of communication she has." She mentioned with overdone casualness. "I notice she doesn’t keep to the original nursery rhyme if it doesn’t suit her purposes."
"Yes." Sydney agreed, with the same degree of artificial nonchalance. "Quite an ingenious way to tell us what she wants us to know without ever actually speaking for herself."
"Well I just think it’s strange!" Broots complained unhappily. "Why would anyone choose to stay in that nasty cell."
"Because she believes the alternative is worse?" Parker suggested dryly.
"Because she believes the consequences would be worse." Sydney corrected thoughtfully.
"Whatever." Parker dismissed the issue impatiently as the elevator doors opened on their floor. "You find Angelo, Sydney----Broots and I are going to search the mainframe."
"We are?" Broots asked miserably.
"This is the Centre, Broots." Parker explained firmly. "There’s a record on that woman somewhere."
"Of course, Miss Parker." Broots followed Parker’s clicking heels like a dog that had just been kicked, but had no one better adore.
Sydney left to track down the elusive Angelo.
*****
"Find anything interesting?" Sydney questioned as he entered the lab with Angelo in tow.
Parker and Broots were staring intently at Broots’ computer screen and didn’t acknowledge Sydney’s question. Both wore the revolted, yet mesmerized expressions of a passerby watching the scene of an accident.
"Wait for me here, Angelo." Sydney ordered quietly, suspecting that the savant didn’t need to see whatever it was that had enthralled the other two. He approached the computer screen with an unaccustomed feeling of dread, which was quickly justified by what he saw.
"No! No! Bring my brother back! I want my Timmy!"
The child couldn’t have been more than 4 or 5. Even if her words hadn’t confirmed her relationship to Angelo, her blond curls and deep blue eyes would have. She was crying desperately, her tearstained face pressed against he bars of the same barren cell that Parker had discovered her in earlier this day. One hand clutched the cold iron bars while the other stretched hopelessly out towards her brother, who was being hustled out of the room by a hulking guard.
"Stop it!" Raines moved into view of the camera, approaching the bars as he glared at the tiny girl. "Cease this tantrum this instant, or you’ll be punished!"
The girl snatched her hand back inside the bars and moved back a step, placing her hands carefully behind her back.
"Please don’t hurt Timmy anymore." She begged with heartrending earnestness. "I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t cry anymore and I’ll eat all my food, even the yucky stuff."
"You know what I want you to do." Raines answered with deadly coldness. The girl’s eyes dropped uncertainly.
"But it doesn’t work on Timmy!" She protested desperately. "I’ve tried and tried."
"What about the boy Jarod?" Raines asked with deceptive gentleness. "Why hasn’t there been any change in his behavior?"
"I don’t know." The child sobbed. "I don’t know why it doesn’t always work. Maybe he’s too big. PLEASE, don’t hurt Timmy anymore." She blurted out, almost against her will.
"That is not acceptable." Raines told her with icy fury. "It has worked on Mr. Parker, it has worked on various Sweepers, if it does not work with Timothy or Jarod it must be because you don’t want it to."
"But, it works a little on Jarod, doesn’t it?" She asked seriously. "He doesn’t cry for his Mommy and Daddy anymore, does he? He doesn’t remember that you asked him to do those things for you. I try Dr. Raines, really!"
"Trying isn’t enough, Trina." Raines returned implacably. "Success is the only thing that will save your brother."
The girl bit her lip, tears welling up in her big blue eyes.
"If I try again will you leave Timmy alone?" She implored in a broken whisper.
"No, Rinnie!" The boy hollered, struggling for the first time against the adult holding him. "Don’t listen to him! He’s a BAD man!"
"Too late." Raines answered with artificial sorrow. "You hear how he behaves? He must be taught. But I won’t make you come along this time, if you promise to make sure Mr. Parker approves my budget tomorrow."
"Yes, Sir." She agreed in a choked voice.
"Very well, then, I’ll return in the morning. Make sure you are ready for me."
"Yes, Sir." She repeated, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she stared longingly at her older brother.
She pressed her lips together on further pleadings with a maturity far beyond her age and retreated to her cot to huddle miserably in the far corner, crystal tears shining down her desolate face.
"So that’s how the old buzzard kept himself in power." Parker breathed, her eyes glittering with barely repressed anger.
"Apparently Trina is an empath, like her brother, but her empathy is projective rather than receptive." Sydney speculated.
"Was she the one he wanted in the first place?" Parker wondered.
"I doubt he had any idea of her abilities, or even of Angelo’s, he simply pushed until he got something he wanted."
"Well, I’ve seen enough." Parker declared firmly. "Let’s get Angelo down there and get her out of that cell."
"I’m not sure it will be that easy." Sydney murmured thoughtfully. "Raines has obviously used Trina’s love for her brother against her for many years. She may not be able to see past her fear of Raines and what he she thinks he can do to her and her brother."
"Then I’ll drag that self-righteous bastard down there by his oxygen tubes and force him to tell her to go with us." She promised grimly.
"Are there more DSAs?" Sydney asked her.
"Yes, we found a case of them." Broots told him, confusion written on his expressive face.
"Make sure they get to my office." Sydney told the technician firmly. "I’m going to have to know exactly what Raines did to her if I’m going to have any hope of helping her."
"Help Trina." Angelo agreed solemnly, his blue eyes looking exactly like his sister’s as he silently begged Sydney to help his sister.
"We will." It was Parker who answered, her customary determination to see only what she wanted to happen coming to the fore. "One way or another, we will."
She spun on one heel, heading for the door. She fully expected the three men to follow her without question, and she wasn’t disappointed in that expectation. They caught up with her in front of the elevators.
Trina sat in exactly the same place and position as they’d left her, cradling her dolls in the corner under her utilitarian cot. Her noon meal sat untouched on the small desk, congealed into an even more unappetizing mess than it had been to begin with. She glanced up when the unoiled door screeched, announcing the arrival of her four would-be saviors.
When her gaze fell on Angelo she lit up like a sunrise for an instant, but then terror crossed her face and she looked down at her dolls—closing them all out of her mind. It was as if she believed she could ignore them away from her presence.
"Trina?" Parker asked in the gentlest voice any of the men had ever heard issue from her lips. She knelt down in front of the frightened woman with complete disregard for the damage the floor was doing for her nylons. "Trina? We’ve brought your brother with us. Don’t you want to come and see him?"
"No, no, no, no, no…." She whispered rapidly, barely seeming to pause for breath. "There is no Timmy, there is only Angelo. No, no, no, no, no…."
Parker looked up at Sydney, helpless frustration on her face.
"It’s okay, Trina." Broots dropped down into a cross-legged sitting position next to Parker. "No one will hurt you anymore, or Angelo. You’re safe now. We won’t let Raines hurt you ever again."
His gaze was focused on the damaged woman in front of him, so he missed the amazed looks that Sydney and Parker exchanged. They'd never heard Broots set himself so openly against Raines before.
Trina stopped her restless rocking and looked at Broots assessingly, her head cocked to one side like a curious bird.
"There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
She was very, very good." She stopped her recital at that point, staring expectantly at Broots.
When he did nothing but frown at her with confusion she repeated;
"When she was good, she was very, very good."
"Sydney?" Broots implored, still staring at her.
"I believe she thinks we are a test set up by Raines." Sydney offered dryly, studying the woman with clinical detachment.
"She was very good." Trina nodded at Sydney, seeming relieved that he understood.
"Yes, Trina, you have been very good." Sydney agreed gently. "And that’s why you can visit with your brother."
Trina astounded them all as tears filled her eyes and spilled over on her cheeks.
"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,
And doesn’t know where to find him." She informed them sadly. "Poor lost sheep—we can’t find him."
"But Angelo’s right here with us." Broots told her with gentle confusion, looking up briefly to verify that Angelo was indeed in the cell with them, although he did seem to be hovering uncertainly by the door rather than actually joining them.
"There is no Timmy, there is only Angelo." Trina agreed sadly.
"Angelo is your brother, Trina." Parker assured her. "Say hello to him."
"All the king’s horses,
And all the king’s men,
Couldn’t put Timmy,
Back together again." Trina confided earnestly.
"Sydney?" This time it was Parker who appealed to the psychologist, although it was more of a demand than an appeal.
"I’m not sure." Sydney replied thoughtfully. "I don’t know if she’d afraid that Timmy will be hurt if she speaks to him, or if she refuses to accept Angelo as her brother."
"What are you doing with my subject?"
Raines raspy voice sounded from just outside the tiny cell, startling all the inhabitants. Angelo jumped, and edged towards the small desk and away from Raines, Parker stiffened, before rising slowly to glare and Raines, Broots turned an interesting shade of green and Trina turned paper white, her blue eyes the only trace of color on her face. Sydney merely turned to confront the man who had once been a colleague.
"So, you admit that you’ve done this to her?" He asked blandly.
"Done what?" Raines demanded irritably, frowning at everyone in the cell impartially.
"Destroyed yet another useful tool." Sydney returned bitingly.
"She’s more useful now than she’s ever been." Raines snapped.
"To you, maybe, but I doubt the Triumvirate will appreciate a tool that they cannot use." He threatened blandly. "I doubt they’ll be happy to learn that you’ve used her against them, either." He added, making a shrewd guess and hitting the mark squarely, if the sputter that came from Raines was any indication.
"Don’t threaten me, Sydney." He finally growled in return. "If you expose me to the Triumvirate then they will undoubtedly ship her off to Africa—and your bleeding heart won’t stand for that."
"I don’t think the Triumvirate will want a tool that they can’t use." Sydney repeated calmly. "And I’m certainly willing to take the chance that I’ve misjudged them if it means taking you down."
"What do you want?" Raines caved in suddenly, his complexion turning a muddy gray in an instant.
"Release her to me." Sydney replied instantly. "Make it clear to her that she no longer has to fear you and tell her that she can follow my instruction."
"So you can use her against the Triumvirate?" Raines snarled nastily.
Unnoticed by any of the others, Angelo and Trina’s eyes met and locked.
’Push Raines, Trina.’ Angelo told her silently, his lips never moving.
’Timmy?’ She question in that same silent way.
’I was Timmy once.’ He hedged. ’Make Raines say "yes" to Sydney. We can be together again.’
’He’ll know.’ She protested, her eyes growing round. He’ll put you in the machine again!’
’No he won’t. Sydney won’t let him. You can trust Sydney, Trina.’
Trina looked at the arguing men doubtfully. The exchange between Angelo and her had only taken seconds. Sydney was waiting for Raines’ answer. She drew in a silent breath, and pushed at him to agree with the psychiatrist.
"All right!" Raines growled at last. "But only if you agree to remove her from the Centre entirely." He added cunningly.
"I won’t have her used against me." He grumbled, half to himself.
No! Don’t make me leave Timmy! She protested silently.
"I’ll arrange living quarters for her elsewhere, but she will return regularly to visit with her brother." Sydney countered instantly.
"Maybe on weekends, when no one else is really around." Raines wavered.
"Whenever I choose to bring her." Sydney argued. "Unlike you, I have no need to use her unique abilities to get what I want."
"You give your word not to use her against me."
"Oh, stop this nonsense!" Parker snapped. "Raines, she’d going with us, with your blessing, or I’m going to have a talk with Daddy this instant. And she isn’t going off of Centre property. Her brother is here and you’ve already stolen far too much time from them already."
Her glare was hot enough to melt steel.
"Have it your way!" Raines caved in completely; whether from the pressure of Sydney and Parker or from the mental pressure from Trina was unclear. "Just keep her out of my sight."
He turned to leave.
"Not so fast, Raines!" Parker’s voice was razor sharp. "You have something to tell Trina first."
Raines sighed heavily and turned to face the woman.
"Trina, I won’t be taking care of you anymore." He told her with saccharine sweetness. "You listen to Sydney and Miss Parker and be a good girl for them."
Trina nodded solemnly, her blue eyes open wide.
"But if I ever discover that you’ve used your gift against me, I’ll cut your brother into pieces right before your eyes." He added in a rapid snarl, before Sydney or Parker could intervene. "Do you understand?"
Trina nodded again, seeming thoroughly cowed.
"That will be all, Raines." Sydney stepped between Raines and Trina and folded his arms firmly.
"I’m leaving." Raines groused. "Father Matthew is waiting for me."
Silence reigned in the dismal cell until the elevator doors closed on Raines unpleasant visage. Then everyone turned to face Trina again.
"Did you understand that, Trina?" Sydney asked her quietly. "Raines has placed you in my care."
Trina nodded silently.
"Then I want you to come with me to the upper levels." He told her, in the same, quiet voice. "I’m going to give you a room next to your brother. Would you like that?"
Trina just watched him warily.
To be continued…
