THE PRETENDER
“Le Secret”
by the lurker

for Deb

Please read A Matter of Time before this one, it's a sequel. :)

The Centre
Accounting Department
Records Room

The brittle voice carried a note of disdain in it that was not lost upon him, “These folders were filed improperly. We cannot tolerate mistakes of this kind, see that it doesn't happen again.”

Ms. Hawken shoved the folders at him with undisguised arrogance, turned on her heel and left the records room, slamming the door behind her. Sydney stood there holding the file folders with a blank look on his face. He didn't really feel anything about it. He hadn't felt a thing since the day he had been transferred into accounting.

He walked toward the back of the dingy room, opened a filing cabinet, and began filing the folders in his hand. After so many years of working with children, to put him in the Records Room where he had little or no contact with people at all, was a cruel thing to do; however, it had not hurt him half as much as cutting him out of her life completely had done. It was a depressing existence, in the little room with no windows and low light, but Sydney had stopped noticing.

Perhaps hatred was all she could feel for him now. That thought felt like a sharp pain in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his mind wandered to Jarod. He hadn't heard from him in two months, and Sydney suspected it had everything to do with Miss Parker. Perhaps Jarod felt that his mentor had it coming to him, Sydney wasn't sure. He had hoped that Broots would give him a tidbit of news now and again, but it appeared that Miss Parker had scared even the tech into avoiding him.

A soft knock on his door returned his attention to the present. He wiped the moisture which had formed in his eyes on his sleeve, and began filing folders. He waited until he heard the door open, and close again, before he turned around to see who it was; and he was surprised.

“Hi Syd,” Broots smiled slightly at the older man, “I had a few minutes free, so, I thought I'd come down and check out your new digs.”

Sydney smiled, although Broots noticed it never reached his eyes, “That's nice of you, Broots. I'd offer you some coffee, but they don't keep any down here, and I'm not due for a break for another hour or so.”

Broots took a few unsure steps into the room, “That's okay, Sydney, I don't have a lot of time really, I just wanted to you know, say hello.”

Sydney nodded, “I understand. Miss Parker will probably be wondering where you are...”

Broots looked uncomfortable, and Sydney knew that if Parker caught wind of his appearance in accounting, there would be hell for him to pay.

He walked over to the tech and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You'd better go. I appreciate the visit though.”

“Sydney...I'm really sorr--”

“--It had nothing to do with you, Broots, don't give it another thought.”

“Whatever happened between you, she can't stay mad forever, Syd. You know how she is, she'll get over it.”

Sydney's eyes turned wistful, “Not this time, my friend, I'm afraid she won't.”

Broots looked around the awful room, “This is so wrong, Syd.”

Sydney moved away from the younger man, walking back toward the file cabinets, “She did what she thought she had to, Broots. And whatever happens to me now, I have coming.” Sydney looked directly at the younger man, “Is there any news of Jarod? You don't have to give me details, I understand that you can't, but I'd just like to know if he's all right.”

Confusion crossed Broots' face, “You haven't heard from him?”

“No,” Sydney's voice filled with sadness, “Not a word.”

Broots swallowed hard, “It's been pretty much the same as always. He taunts us with clues, and we show up just after the fact.”

A sincere smile played across Sydney's lips, “Then he's all right. Thank you, Broots, that's really all I needed to know.”

Broots walked toward Sydney, stopping a few feet away, “Syd, do you want me to talk to her or something? I mean, I'd be willing--”

“--No. You don't want to get in the middle of this one, believe me.” Sydney's timbre filled Broots with sadness, “It's time for me to let her go. To let both of them go.”

Broots studied the psychiatrist for a moment, and was struck by how old he now appeared; this man wasn't the one Broots had known for the past five years. His pallor was that of a person who never ventured outside, his clothes were disheveled, and his shoulders slumped slightly. He seemed weary, and there was a sadness surrounding him that was painful to look upon.

Broots' voice reflected the sorrow he felt, “If you want, Syd, I can fill you in every now and again, on the latest Jarod adventures. I mean, if you'd like...”

“I'd like that very much, Broots.”

“Okay then...” Broots turned toward the door, his hand on the knob, “I'll see you later.”

“Broots?”

“Yeah?”

“Is she all right?”

Broots shook his head, even now, Sydney couldn't stop caring, “She's been a little crankier than usual, but other than that, she seems fine.” He paused for a moment, debating whether or not he should continue, then his voice turned soft, “She's been digging around in old Centre records. I don't know what it's all about, but, I'm sure she's messing in stuff she shouldn't be.”

Sydney nodded, but shed no light on it for the tech. Broots opened the door and was halfway out before he looked back at Sydney once again.

“I know she's pretty pissed at you, and she'd never admit it, but she misses you, Syd.”

Broots closed the door softly, leaving Sydney to his file folders, and the new tears forming in his eyes.

The Centre
Broots' Area

Broots entered quickly, and sat down at his computer. He looked at his watch, he'd been gone longer than he had intended. He quickly input some information, hoping to find some news on Jarod before Miss Parker showed up.

“Where have you been, Scooby Doo?”

The voice from the corner of his office startled him, “Oh, uh, Miss Parker, I uhm, didn't see you standing there...”

“No kidding. Answer my question.”

Broots began to fidget as she closed in on him, “I uh, just had to run an errand, that's all.”

She leaned in close to his ear, “An errand in the Accounting Department. And what was it? The Centre take out too much tax on your last paycheck?”

“Well, not exactly, no, I just--”

Parker's hand slammed down on his desk, her voice was low and dangerous, “I know you saw him, Broots, so don't lie to me, unless you'd like to join Dr. Dunsel in the Records Room. What did he tell you?”

Broots glared at Parker, “He didn't tell me anything, he just asked me about Jarod.”

“What about Jarod?”

His voice held a tinge of annoyance, “Nothing specific, he just wanted to know if Jarod was okay.”

“As if he hasn't been talking to his little creation--”

“--He hasn't. Jarod hasn't contacted him since Syd was transferred to accounting.” He stared at Parker; if she was feeling anything about Sydney, she was covering it well, “He seems pretty miserable you know.” When she didn't answer him, he ventured on, “Look, Miss Parker, don't you think that this has gone on long enou--”

Parker grabbed him by the shirt collar, “--No, it's just begun. Is that all of it?” He nodded slightly, and she continued, “Fine, and you'd better not take any more little trips to the Records Room, Mad Max, or I'll pin you up by your ears like a trophy on my wall. Do we understand each other?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Parker started for the exit, but Broots' voice stopped her, “There was one more thing...”

She turned and growled at him, “What?”

“He asked if you were all right.”

He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes momentarily, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, causing him to wonder if he had really seen anything at all. Parker turned on her heel and left the room, saying nothing. Broots released a huge gush of air from his mouth, and leaned his head on the back of his chair, wishing things were the way they used to be.

Sydney's Old Office
The Centre

It felt so empty to her.

She wasn't exactly sure why she had come. She shook her head at herself; that wasn't entirely true. She walked into his old office, now bereft of his belongings, of...him. All that remained were pieces of furniture and equipment owned by the Centre. She moved further into the room, and ran her fingers along the top of his desk. She stopped by his chair, and after a moment, sat down in it. Even the chair felt strangely gloomy to her.

The eyes behind the air vent watched her quietly. He could sense her sadness. He felt sad too; he missed the mentor. Angelo had watched Sydney pack up his personal items and leave. And he hadn't seen him since. He focused in upon Parker once more. Guilt. Sorrow. Confusion. And...worry.

His voice was a mere whisper to himself, “Daughter...sorry.”

Unaware of the empath observing her, Parker inhaled deeply; she could still smell Sydney's cologne in the room. Closing her eyes, she could hear his laughter, she could see his grin overtaking his features, and the smile reaching his eyes. Her own eyes snapped open, as she reminded herself that he had been the perpetrator of betrayal. A feeling of hollowness crept over her.

“Miss Parker?”

Parker stood up quickly and glared at Broots, “What?”

“I've been looking all over for you...what are you doing in here?”

“None of your business, Bonzo. What do you want?”

“I have a lead on Jarod, but we've gotta hurry.”

“Where to?”

“Vermont.”

“Let's go...”

The empath watched her leave with the computer tech. He closed his eyes. concentrating. She was lying to herself. But she wasn't ready yet. The emotions of attachment were strong inside of her, but she wasn't prepared to face them. Not yet. There was still too much emptiness, too much hurt. But soon she would have to face up to it. Soon. The empath knew she would come back to the office, looking for some way to find peace. To find answers.

Angelo cautiously opened the grate and crawled out. He sat down in the desk chair. He would wait too. The mentor couldn't be gone forever. So much sadness filled the room; a tear rolled unchecked down Angelo's face. Her sadness, his sadness. And he waited.

Sydney's House
Milford, Delaware

It was unusually cold in the house, but he hadn't bothered to put the heat on, nor had he eaten. He sat in the large chair of his study, staring out the window into the black of night. The moonlight caught a few glistening droplets on the leaves of the trees, and they sparkled in the late frost of the crisp spring air.

His eyes stared, unseeing, at the garden beyond the window. He hadn't tended his plants in a couple of months, he cared no more about them then he did about himself. He felt sad, alone, hollow; no longer of use to anyone.

He missed the children. His entire adult life had been spent working with children. It never ceased to delight him when one of them would discover something for the very first time. The look of absolute joy on their faces, the grins of understanding that grew into smiles of triumph; it was for these moments that he had lived. And now there would be no more.

His life was to be made up of file folders and dingy office space, representative of the empty man he had become. He reached over to the little side table near his chair, and opened a drawer. He pulled out three loose pictures and settled back in his chair. A smile filled his gloomy face as he looked at the pictures. He loved them with every fiber of his being, and he doubted that any of them would ever accept it.

The picture of Jarod had been taken when he was twelve. The Centre took one yearly, to chronicle their crowning achievement. Sydney had swiped it for his own some years later; it was the only picture of Jarod's childhood still in his possession. He slid it behind the two others and looked at the second. Miss Parker. It was a picture from her college graduation. She had no idea that Sydney had taken the snapshot, much less known that he had been there that day. It was difficult to even look at a picture of her now.

He put the picture of Miss Parker behind Jarod's and stared at the final one. It was a picture of Nicholas. Michelle had sent it to him shortly after he had discovered that he had a son. The boy was about ten, and he was posing with a fish he caught on his very first fishing trip. Nicholas looked so proud; the look was echoed in Sydney's eyes as he looked at the old photo.

He leaned his head back against the chair. At least Nicholas was still talking to him. Their weekly phone chats had grown from short awkward conversations, into long discussions of everything from gardening to politics. There was the possibility that one day, his own flesh and blood, would be as close to him as Jarod and Parker had once been.

They had time, so there was still hope. It was all there was for Sydney to hold onto, and he clung to it for dear life.

The Centre Company Jet
Somewhere over Pennsylvania

Another dead end, that's what Vermont had been. One more of Jarod's twisted little games. Parker closed her eyes. At the rate they were going, they were never going to catch the little bastard, and she'd be stuck, forever, chasing his worthless ass all over the country. It was getting old. She glanced over at Broots, who was searching on his laptop for any strand of Jarod's trail.

“Anything?”

Broots frowned, “Not yet, no.”

Parker looked out the window, into the dark of night. Her thoughts inched their way toward that part of her mind she tried to shut out. The image of the pretender, Alex, popped into her head. She could still hear him saying the words...

“It's so ironic...he's not really your father, you know.”

She wanted to wipe the smug smile off of his face for good; but Jarod had done that for her. Alex had known more than either of them; he had worked closely with the Triumvirate and apparently had access to files that neither she nor Jarod even knew existed. But the secrets had died with him. There was the possibility that she might never know the truth. No. It was unacceptable.

Her eyes clouded over. Sydney knew. She was sure of it. What was so awful that the old goat couldn't bring himself to tell her? Could it be Raines, perhaps? She shuddered at the idea. A frown creased her brow as a new thought wound its way into her head. She was a twin, and twins tended to be genetically predisposed. Jacob and Sydney. What if her mother had been impregnated with Jacob's DNA? A smile of irony twisted her mouth; that would make Sydney her uncle.

Then she moved on to the next most logical thought: What if it was Sydney? Parker leaned her head into her hand. She was so tired of having to solve the mysteries surrounding her life. The more she uncovered, the less she knew. What was the answer to the question, who am I? She no longer had any idea.

She glanced at her watch; another fifteen minutes and they'd be back at the Centre. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. She was exhausted; at least she'd manage a good night's sleep for a change.

The plane shook violently with sudden turbulence, and Parker's eyes snapped open, “Oh for fuck's sake...”

The pilot's voice boomed over the intercom, “Buckle up back there, we've picked up some unexpected weather. It's going to be a bumpy ride.”

Parker glanced over at Broots, who looked less than confident, “Great,” Parker commented, “just what I was looking forward to on the way home; a little shake, rattle and roll.”

Broots tried to refocus his concentration on the screen before him. Maybe if he ignored all of it, it would go away. The plane dropped suddenly, feeling like an out of control roller coaster. Broots took an uneven gulp of air.

Parker laughed at him, “Come on Scooby Doo, don't tell me you're gonna wet your pants over a little clear air?”

“It isn't funny, Miss Parker. I have a little girl at home, waiting for me. I need to make it back in one piece.”

Another air pocket caused them to be tossed hard, sobering Parker's demeanor slightly, “Yeah Broots, I know. It's just a little turbulence, we'll be fine.”

Sydney's House
Milford, Delaware

He had dozed off in his chair, and the ringing of the doorbell jarred him awake. Wearily, Sydney rose from the chair and shuffled to open the door. His eyebrows raised at the sight of the two uniformed policeman on his front porch. The look of gravity on both of their faces caused Sydney's stomach to leap unannounced, into his throat.

“Yes? Can I help you, officers?”

The County Morgue
Allentown, Pennsylvania

Sydney thought he was going to be sick. The M.E. lifted a corner of the sheet, exposing the body so that Sydney could identify it. He had to look away from the mangled remains of the women he once knew and loved so dearly.

“Yes,” his voice whispered, “that's her.”

The coroner's voice was soft, “I'm sorry doctor. We also need you to ID the other body.”

Sydney nodded, swallowing hard. The M.E. pushed the first slab back into its drawer and moved to the next one, gently pulling it open. He lifted the sheet, but Sydney couldn't bring himself to look.

“Doctor?”

Syd inhaled an uneven breath, trying in vain to calm himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to prepare himself for the sight he knew was waiting for him. Slowly he opened his eyes and forced his gaze downward, at the body. His mind screamed out in sorrow and Sydney swayed slightly, his legs threatening to buckle under him. The M.E. gently replaced the sheet and closed the drawer. Taking Sydney by the arm, he guided him to a chair.

“Doctor?”

Sydney nodded, “That's him. It's Nicholas.”

The coroner patted Syd's shoulder, “I'll get you a glass of water.”

Sydney just nodded. He felt numb. Michelle and Nicholas, both dead. It was too much for him to process. What more could be taken from him, and why? He leaned his head against the wall, trying to keep the tears filling up his eyes, from overflowing. It was too much for his heart to bear, and too much for his mind to comprehend. He reached out with shaking hands to accept the water glass the coroner offered him.

“Is there someone we can call for you?”

Sydney shook his head, “No, thank you, there is no one.”

The coroner watched Sydney gulp some of the water down; he had seen many relatives lose it in this very room, but he had never looked upon a man more ravaged by loss than this one. He kneeled next to the older man and touched his arm.

“I'd feel better, doctor, if we called someone. A friend maybe.”

Sydney handed the M.E. the glass and wiped at his eyes with a shaking hand, “It's all right, really. I just need a moment alone.”

The coroner squeezed his arm before letting go, “Take as much time as you need.”

Sydney nodded and the M.E. left the room, leaving him to grieve alone.

Miss Parker's House
Salisbury, Maryland

She tossed and turned in her sleep, unable to find a comfortable position. After the tense flight back to the Centre, her muscles felt cramped. She adjusted her pillow again, but it didn't help. She looked at the clock on the nightstand, which read 6:06am.

“Oh the hell with it,” Parker muttered as she tossed the pillow aside and climbed out of bed.

After throwing a robe on, she padded downstairs and into the kitchen to make coffee. She glanced out the window, the sun was just beginning to peek out from below the horizon. It was one of her favourite things to see, although she hated to be up early enough to see it. The colours that were beginning to stretch across the twilight sky filled her with a sense of well being.

A moment later she scowled, realizing the sunrise was a false sense of security. Pretty colours could no more bring contentment to a restless soul, than light could be brought in to illuminate the Centre's dark secrets. She poured the water into the coffee pot and stabbed at the power button with her finger.

She turned away from the window, leaning against the cold tile of the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. Her mind wandered to the question of her father's identity. She wanted to know; she needed to know. Why was it such a big secret? What had the man she thought to be her father for her entire life, gained from the lie? Raines and Sydney had to have known that she wasn't the daughter of Mr. Parker; why had they kept it from her?

Parker poured a cup of coffee into a mug, and held it for a moment, the heat from the porcelain warmed her hands. She then let the steam from the liquid hit her face, before taking a sip. Her mind moved to the crux of the mystery: Sydney. It didn't matter how much she missed him, she wasn't going to give in. She couldn't give in. The knowledge that she couldn't trust him, inflicted a sharp pain in her chest.

Why had he kept her in the dark? She shook her head. Was it out of loyalty to someone? That didn't seem likely. Most of the people to whom Sydney was loyal, were dead, except for Jarod. Jarod. Did he have something to do with it? Doubtful. They had already proven that she and Jarod were not related by blood; and yet, their mothers had known each other. She shook her head. The most likely reason that Sydney had remained silent, was his misguided sense of protection. But from what, or whom, was he protecting her?

Damn him. She would eventually have to face him, if she wanted his help in finding answers; however, leaving him in the dog house for awhile longer was extremely appealing. The old goat deserved it for what he had done, misguided loyalty or not. Parker would at least teach him a lesson in telling her the truth, if nothing else. He could just sit in the Records Room for another month, as far as she was concerned. Let him stew in it. He'd live.

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware
Broots' Area

Cherry. It was one of his favourite kinds of jelly donuts. His morning just wasn't complete without a jelly donut and a steamy cup of coffee. Savouring a bite filled with cherry, Broots scanned all the AP wires, as he did every morning, looking for anything that might lead him to Jarod. A report from a local Pennsylvania paper caused him to choke on the mouthful of donut.

He straightened up in his chair, alarm filling his eyes. After quickly looking through the story, he grabbed his phone.

“Yeah, this is Broots, get me the Records Room in Accounting.”

He waited while the phone rang in his ear. Nothing. After six rings, it was rerouted to the main line in accounting.

“Accounting Department, Ms. Hawken speaking, how may I help you?”

“This is Broots from the tech room...may I please speak with Sydney?”

There was a pause, and her voice turned slightly caustic, “I'm sorry Mr. Broots, but he has not yet arrived this morning.”

Broots looked at his watch and scowled, “But it's almost 9:30, isn't he due in at 9:00?”

“And he will be dealt with, Mr. Broots, I don't think we need any assistance from the tech department. Good day.”

The dial tone screaming in his ear annoyed him, and he glared at the receiver, “Damn it...”

Broots dialed in Sydney's home number, and waited, but no one answered. Then he called his cell phone, garnering the same results. With a worried look on his face, he hung up the phone, made a copy of the news story and quickly left the room, unaware that he had been observed.

The air vent quietly opened and Angelo slipped out. He went to Broots' computer and working rapidly, he sent the newstory out in an email message...

The Centre
Miss Parker's Office

Parker was cleaning up some paperwork around her desk when Broots barged in.

She looked up, glaring, “Don't you knock?”

He was slightly out of breath, “I'm...I'm sorry, Miss Parker, but--”

She was immediately on alert, “--What's wrong?”

“It's...well, it's...” He set the copy of the story down on her desk, “It's this...”

Parker looked down to see pictures of Michelle and Nicholas Stamatis on a page of the Allentown Herald, with a headline reading: Mother and Son killed by Drunk Driver.

Her eyes darted quickly back up to Broots, “Oh my God...where's Sydney?”

“I don't know. He hasn't come in this morning.”

“You try him at home?”

“Yeah, and on his cell, he's not answering either one.” Parker hesitated momentarily and Broots frowned, “Miss Parker, Sydney's been hit pretty hard lately, we can't just--

“--I know that.” Parker closed her eyes momentarily, “Damn him.” She folded the xerox up and put it in her jacket pocket, heading for the door, “Come on...”

Sydney's House
Milford, Delaware

Parker banged on the front door yet again, but no one answered.

“Damn it all...”

In a huff, she marched around the side gate to the back of the house, Broots struggling to keep up with her. She opened the screen door in the back, and pounded on the door.

“Sydney. Crap, Syd, open the goddamned door. Now.” She waited, but there was no response, “Fine...”

Parker took a few steps backward, preparing to knock the door in, and was in mid stride when Broots interrupted her, “Uh, Miss Parker?”

She stumbled slightly and turned, glaring, “What, you moron?”

He was holding up a key he found under a plant pot, “Why don't you try this?”

Her nostrils flared as she glared at him, and in answer he shrugged.

She snatched the key from him, “Give me that.”

Parker unlocked the door, and the two of them went inside. The house was still, unnaturally so. The hairs on the back of Parker's neck stood on end. She pulled the gun from underneath her jacket.

“Miss Parker,” Broots sounded worried, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sixth Sense, Broots; this feels wrong.” She walked through the kitchen, toward the living room, “Sydney? Syd? Where the hell are you?”

The two of them split up, Broots staying downstairs and Parker heading upstairs. After a few minutes, she holstered the gun. There was no sign of Sydney, nor anyone else.

The alarm in Broots voice sent her running downstairs and into the study, “Miss Parker!”

“What have you got, Broots?”

“Look...”

Parker walked over to where Broots was standing, and looked at the side table by the window. On top of it was a picture of Jarod, one of Nicholas, and one of herself. Confused, she picked up the picture from her graduation.

“How did he get this?”

“Maybe Mr. Parker gave it to him.”

“No way. The only picture I have from my graduation is the one with...with Daddy. It was taken by a family friend. It's the only one from the ceremony.”

Broots looked at the picture, “Apparently not.”

She turned the picture over and saw Sydney's handwriting. He had written the date, the event and her initials on it. She closed her eyes, shaking her head as the truth dawned upon her.

“He was there. Sydney took this photo.”

“He was there and you didn't know?”

She looked at him, “Daddy didn't like involving employees from the Centre with...family events. Sydney wasn't invited.”

“Obviously didn't stop him.”

Parker looked at the tech, the emotions inside her beginning to well up into her throat, and she couldn't say a word. Broots remained silent, feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of Parker's feelings. He looked away for a moment, and caught sight of an envelope with her name on it, sitting in Sydney's open and very empty gun box.

“Oh man,” was all he muttered.

Parker followed his gaze and the ramifications of the empty gun box hit her hard in the gut. She tried to steady her hands, which had begun to shake.

Parker ripped into the envelope, and read the words on the piece of paper now in her hands, “Amour est dolor meus.”

Broots waited, but she said nothing else, “That's it? That's all it says?”

She handed him the paper; he recognized Sydney's handwriting, and there were only the four words on the otherwise blank page.

“Damn...what does it mean, Miss Parker?”

Before she could answer, a voice from behind them spoke up, “It's Latin. It means ‘love is my sorrow.'”

Parker pulled her gun as she turned to see Jarod standing in the doorway.

He smiled sadly at her, “I think you can put that away.” She stared at him, and he continued, “Miss Parker, Sydney needs help, and right now, we're all he's got. You can't afford to lock me up at the moment, and we both know it.”

Her first instinct was to hog tie him and drag his sorry ass back to the Centre; but unfortunately the pretender was right. Slowly she lowered the gun, and holstered it.

“Jarod...what a surprise. Should I even ask?”

He ignored the question, with one of his own, “Any leads on him?”

Parker shook her head, “Well, Dr. Strangelove isn't here, and he's not at the Centre.” She and Jarod exchanged a look, and she continued, “That leaves us two places to check.”

Jarod nodded, “I'll take Albany.”

“I'm on White Cloud then.”

“Fine.”

Jarod headed for the door, but Parker called to him, “Jarod...?” He turned and looked at her, so she continued, “You don't think that he'd...” Her voice died away, unable to finish the thought.

Jarod shook his head, “I honestly don't know, Miss Parker. We've been pretty hard on him, you and me, and now his son is dead. You tell me...how much loss can one man take?”

Parker looked away, “Call me if you find him.”

Jarod nodded and quickly left the house. Parker sighed, and headed for the door. Broots, following her, almost ran into her as she quickly turned on him, shoving him back.

“You're not coming.”

“But Miss Par--”

“--No. Look, Broots, I know you care about Sydney, but I think it would be better if I go alone.”

“You don't know what you might be walking into if you find him.” She looked at him sharply, but he kept going, “I mean, what if he's lost it? It could be...dangerous. You shouldn't go alone.”

“Sydney would never hurt me.” Broots frowned and Parker pressed on, hoping the tech would understand, “I need to do this alone, Broots.”

“You sound pretty certain he'll be at White Cloud.”

She nodded, “That's why Jarod took Albany.”

Broots frowned as he watched her walk out of the room. It was going to be a long wait.

Sydney's Cabin
White Cloud, Virginia

His car was parked in the gravel driveway outside the cabin, but the house was in complete darkness as far as she could see from outside. She sighed unevenly, parked her car and walked up the drive, steeling herself against the emotions which had already begun to whirl inside of her.

She put her hand on the knob of the front door, but suddenly found she lacked the courage to turn it. Her breaths came in small gasps as she tried to maintain her self control. She tilted her head back, to keep the tears from rushing out of her eyes, and a small sob that was an odd mixture of fault and fear escaped from her throat. Whatever was waiting for her behind the door, was at least partly of her making, and it had to be faced.

Parker stamped her feet three times on the wood deck trying to find her courage, “Damn it.”

It was so much harder than she thought it was going to be. One more breath and she would have to just open the door. She inhaled deeply, and turned the knob. The faint strains of a recording floated toward her from somewhere within.

Carefully she stepped into the cabin, and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the blackness inside. Walking further into the living room, she pictured her card game with Sydney, played for the benefit of Mr. Raines. A brief smile curved her mouth with the memory.

The only light in the room stemmed from the window, and the moonlight beyond it. Parker reached for her flashlight, but then thought better of it. The music continued, and she realized that it was the same song playing over and over. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she deduced that a machine had been set to loop on one track, over and over. She fought down the panic that was rising in her throat. He was all right. He had to be.

There was flickering candlelight emanating from the kitchen, and as she drew closer, she realized that the looped music was growing in volume. Her mind flashed back to that day at the Centre; the day she heard the shot from the elevator, and ran screaming to find her mother lying in a puddle of blood. Parker's feet were suddenly nailed to the floor as tears filled her eyes. It still hurt. Even twenty five years and the knowledge that it had been a hoax, couldn't put enough distance between the grown up Miss Parker and the twelve year old girl who had been devastated.

It was in that moment that it hit her, hard. She couldn't go through it again. She wouldn't. And then the reality of why Jarod chose Albany struck her; he knew that she had to deal with the pain of this possibility in the present, in an effort to overcome the memory of the past. Parker wanted to run from the cabin. She wanted to run and not look back. And yet she knew that she could not. Parker bit down on her lip, very much resembling the little girl who was too terrified to look into the elevator, and too terrified to look away.

Her lament was so soft, it floated through the air, dissipating before it became a prayer, “Please god...”

Parker moved forward slowly, and stopped at the threshold of the door. Swallowing hard, she looked into the kitchen. The source of the music was a cd player on the table, and next to it, a lit candle. It was a French art song, that was playing over and over, but she couldn't name it. She walked into the room, and reached for the power button on the portable machine, when her heart froze at the sight on the floor.

Sydney was leaned up against the kitchen cupboards, his jacket thrown in a heap, his tie gone, and several buttons of his shirt, undone. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his arms lazily hung over them. His eyes were staring blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. He looked perfectly calm and at peace. A 9mm gun casually occupied his right hand, the metal barrel glinting in what small moonlight poured in through the kitchen window.

She took a tentative step toward the figure in the dark, and the terror she felt was exactly what she had experienced twenty five years earlier. She had no idea what kept her from bolting from the room in panic.

Parker tried to keep her voice even and filled with calm, “Sydney?”

Even in the dim light, she could see the the haunted eyes flick up to look at her. A small sigh of relief escaped from her; at least he was still among the living, but from the looks of him, maybe not for long. He looked nothing like the man she knew. He was thin and pale, generally unkempt, as if he no longer cared anything about himself. And his eyes. Parker wasn't sure if there was any recognition in them. She took another few steps toward him, and saw that his knuckles were white from gripping the gun so tightly, and every muscle in his face was taut with tension.

She hoped her voice was conveying a calm she certainly didn't feel, “What are you doing?”

His voice was low and dangerous, “You're an uninvited guest, Miss Parker, and I don't want you here.”

Parker slowly moved to stand a few feet in front of him, “I know about Michelle and Nicholas, Syd. I am so sorry.”

He stared at her, his eyes trying to pierce her with ferocity, although the hollowness of them betrayed him, “I don't want your pity. I want to be left alone.”

She knelt down in front of him, “I think you know I can't do that, Sydney.”

He snorted in derision, “You can leave with a clear conscience; you made the token effort.”

The sting of his words reflected immediately in her eyes, which began to shine from the wet tears forming in them, but she wasn't about to give in.

“If I could take back what I said to you that night, Sydney, I would. But I can't. All I can do, is tell you what I know right now, at this mome--”

The gun barrel suddenly leveled into her face, paralyzing her in fear. The brown eyes staring into her grey ones were unfamiliar. They were not the soft and loving eyes of the man she had known all her life. They were the hardened eyes of a man who had suffered one too many losses. They were the eyes of someone who had gone over the edge.

His tone was barely a growl, “Get out.”

Parker swallowed hard. It boiled down to what she believed to be the truth. The only move left to her, was a blind leap of faith; she had to place all of her confidence in the man holding the 9mm at her. Her mind flashed to her mother, whom she had loved more than any other, but who had ultimately inflicted the wound upon Parker's heart that would never heal. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering strength, and when she reopened them, they held an air of defiance.

She grabbed the hand holding the gun, and pulled it right to her chest, giving him point blank range, “You want to run away from the pain you're feeling, Sydney? Be my guest. But you'll have to shoot me first, because I will not allow it. I wasn't there for my mother--” Parker's voice broke, but she tried to push through her emotions, “I'll be damned if I see it happen again, to someone else I--.” She gritted her teeth to get it out, “To someone else I love.”

Sydney was not prepared for the exposed truth of Parker's words. He stared into her eyes, and for the first time realized that she held him in as high a regard as he did her. The death of Nicholas left a gaping hole in his heart, which he knew would have been no less devastating, had it been Jarod or Miss Parker. He looked deeply into the fierce grey eyes and saw the memories of her mother's death; he couldn't inflict this kind of anguish on her again.

Parker continued to stare at him in distress, and his eyes softened, tears of regret filling them. The hand which was gripping his gun began to shake with emotion, as he realized what he was doing and to whom.

“I'm sorry,” his voice shook with emotion, and tears began to streak his cheeks, “I wouldn't have hurt you...I couldn't...”

Gently, Parker removed the gun from Sydney's hand and set it aside on the floor. Parker felt moisture rolling hot, down her face, but she didn't care.

“I know you couldn't hurt me, Syd.” She put her hands on his face, forcing his eyes to look into hers, “It's going to be okay, Sydney.”

He reached for her then, his voice a sob, “Please help me...”

She pulled him into her arms, “I'll get you through this Sydney, I promise you.”

Parker moved to lean against the cupboards, holding him tightly. Sydney's plaintive sobs stabbed at her heart with their intensity; and there was nothing she could do, except be there for him. She hoped it would be enough.

Parker kept her voice soothing, “Everything's going to be okay, Syd. It's okay, I've got you.”

She had never seen this kind of emotion pour out of him, not even when Jacob had died. There was such pain and regret in his cries that Parker had to fight against her own tears; she pulled him closer to her, and felt his arms tighten their grip around her. She lightly massaged his neck, until finally, she felt him relax into her, exhausted.

Parker kissed the top of his head and whispered into his hair, “You'll be okay, Syd.”

She reached over and pulled his jacket toward her, and covered his back with it. Parker began to gently rock him, like a mother would an inconsolable child. After awhile, Sydney was lulled into a deep sleep in the warmth and safety of her arms. She leaned her head against the cupboards, closing her eyes. She would be stiff from the position she was sitting in on the floor, but she didn't want to disturb him. She guessed that it had been a long time since he had slept at all, much less deeply.

The French song continued to play softly, and soon Parker was lulled to sleep as well.

Sydney's Office
The Centre

He sat at his office desk, and in some ways it felt as if he had never been gone. And yet, everything had changed. His son was dead. The words hurt, and he knew it was a hurt that would never abate. The French song which he had set to loop that night in the kitchen of his cabin, was playing softly in the room. The soft tones of the baritone's voice did not lessen the pain Sydney felt now, anymore than it had that night.

The ring of the phone called his attention, “This is Sydney.”

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Jarod. It's nice to hear from you.”

“I should have called you sooner, Sydney, I know.” Sydney didn't answer, so Jarod continued, “I'm so sorry about Nicholas. I really am.”

“Thank you, Jarod.”

Jarod could hear the pain of loss in Sydney's voice, “Will you be all right, Sydney?”

“I used to think that time could heal all wounds, Jarod, but I'm not so sure anymore.”

“The loss of family is a difficult thing to take.”

Sydney closed his eyes, but he couldn't say anything.

Jarod's concern filled his voice, “Sydney?”

“I'm still here, Jarod.”

“So am I Sydney, and I'm not going anywhere. I think it safe to say that Miss Parker is of the same mind. You're stuck with us.”

Sydney gripped the receiver hard, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, “And I thank god for it, Jarod.”

Sydney hung up the phone, and heard the click of high heels on the marble floor in the corridor. A moment later Miss Parker entered his office, smiling. Her smile disappeared when she saw the emptiness in Sydney's face. He still didn't look like the man she knew, and it worried her.

“First day back in your office, and you look like death warmed over.” He looked away from her, and Parker decided they needed to get a few things out in the open, “The night you went to the cabin, Sydney, why didn't you call me?”

“I didn't think you wanted to hear from me.”

A tinge of ire filled Parker's voice, “I'm not going to apologize for being angry with you, Sydney. You should have told me.”

His voice was a mere whisper, and filled with painful regret, “I know.”

She softened, “I shouldn't have been so hard on you. If I had known what was going to--”

“--Miss Parker, no one can predict the future. And I suppose this is where there is wisdom in living every day as though it were our last comes in.”

“You should have called me, Sydney.” She paused for a long while, building up the courage to ask what she really wanted to know, then finally, “Who is my father?”

“Miss Parker, I honestly don't know.”

She stared into his eyes, it was the truth. She nodded, allowing it to sink in. Then she looked back into the depths of the brown eyes.

“But you knew who it wasn't, and you kept it a secret. Why?”

“I didn't find out until right before your mother's staged suicide, Miss Parker. Afterward, you were so devastated; I couldn't bring myself to take away your father as well.”

“And all of the rest of the years, Sydney?”

“Frankly, I thought you were in a much safer position being Mr. Parker's daughter, so--”

“--So you took it upon yourself to choose who my father would be?”

Sydney looked right into her eyes, ”It wasn't out of malice, Miss Parker. I did what I thought was best for you at the time.”

The irony of it was lost on neither of them, and Parker could see the deep hurt and devastation still in the forefront of Sydney's eyes. She felt the truth of his words. While she would always fault him for it, she could punish him no longer. She walked over to his desk chair and knelt next to him, gently laying her hand on his arm.

Her voice was soft and tender, the concern clear, “You going to be all right, Syd?” He nodded. Parker suddenly noticed the music in the room, and shook her head, “This song have a name?”

His voice was like a whisper on the wind, “Le Secret.”

“How apropos.”

Her comment caused a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. He listened to the baritone's words, as the beautiful melody spun through the air in the room.

“Je veux que le matin l'ignore, Le nom que j'ai dit à la nuit...”

Sydney's voice was gentle and sweet, as if telling a bedtime story to a child as he translated the lyrics, “I wish that the morning may not know, the name I spoke to the night...”

Et qu'au vent de l'aube, sans bruit, Comme une larme il s'évapore.

“And that in the breeze of dawn, noiselessly, it may evaporate like a tear.”

“Je veux que le jour le proclame, L'amour qu'au matin j'ai caché”

His eyes filled with moisture, and Parker took his hand in hers, gently squeezing it. His timbre stayed soft, “I wish the day to proclaim, the love that I have hidden from the morning...”

“Et, sur mon coeur ouvert penché, Comme un grain d'encens il l'enflamme.”

Sydney's lilting voice carried all the tenderness in the world as he continued, “And contemplating my open heart, to set it ablaze like a speck of incense.”

“Je veux que le couchant l'oublie, Le secret que j'ai dit au jour...”

“I wish that sunset may forget, the secret I have told to the day...”

“Et l'emporte avec mon amour, Aux plis de sa robe pâlie!”

“And that it may carry it away with my love, in the folds of its pallid robe.”

Sydney placed a light kiss on top of Parker's head, “I wish I could tell you it was me.”

Parker closed her eyes against the tears which suddenly formed in them, the sincerity of Sydney's tone tearing at her heart. She couldn't find it within herself to answer, and knew she didn't have to; but the words “me too” echoed in her soul.

After a moment, she looked up into his face, studying his eyes, which looked more tired than she had ever seen them. The lines etched in his face, and his pallor, reminded Parker of everything he'd been through in the past couple of months, and her concern for him returned.

“Are you going to be okay?”

He took her hands in his, “Probably not for awhile, Miss Parker. But, eventually... Eventually.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You want to know about the picture from your college graduation.”

“How did you--”

“--I know you.”

Sydney stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Parker followed him, stopping right behind him.

“You were there.”

He turned to face her, “Verrrry good.”

“Why?”

“Well Miss Valedictorian of your class, it was a big day for you.”

Her tone was filled with the customary annoyance, she reserved for saying his name, “Sydney...”

He grinned at her serenely, “Uh-uh.”

She knew he wasn't going to say anything more about it, and Parker started to move away from him, but Sydney took her by the arms, and kissed her forehead.

“What was that for, Freud?”

“Thank you, Miss Parker.”

Sensing he was about to say something emotional, she pushed away from him, “Don't--”

He gently held her arms, “--Thank you for being there when I needed you. It meant more to me than you could ever know.”

Tears formed in her eyes and a lump in her throat kept her from saying a thing. Instead, Parker leaned up and kissed his cheek, wiping the lipstick off afterward. She left him standing there, a pleased grin on his face, the pride of a father shining in his eyes. The Centre had never completely understood what motivated Sydney. But Miss Parker and Jarod knew. Maybe that was the best kept secret of all.

fin