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the lurker
New York City
The Waldorf-Astoria
06 April 2001
It was in morbid fascination that he watched them. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was torturing himself this way, but he was nonetheless. Formally clad couples whirled about the dance floor, having a wonderful time. The room was festively decorated, and the charity had raised a worthy sum for its cause. But he sat, gloomy in his chair, glaring at the couples enjoying themselves.
Mr. Raines had decided that Jarod would show at the event, based upon his last pretend. Sydney could have told him otherwise, but he would have none of it. And so Sydney was sent with Miss Parker to New York City, and the charity ball. Had someone told him that he would be this profoundly annoyed by watching people enjoying themselves upon a dance floor, he might have laughed. He wasn’t laughing now.
Sydney was at a table near the fringes of the room, sadness surrounding him; it was probably the reason he was alone. He hadn’t seen Miss Parker in the past hour, and he hoped that she at least, was off having fun. He spotted Sam and two other sweepers across the room. They looked incredibly bored; even they knew Jarod wasn’t going to appear. He pulled at the collar of his shirt; he hadn’t worn a bow tie in some years, and he had forgotten how utterly annoying they could be. Especially when one was feeling morbidly sorry for oneself.
A chortle of ironic disgust escaped his mouth; of course he was alone. He was stewing in the dark waters of the River Styx in front of god and everyone; who in a sane state of mind would approach him? Physician heal thyself. He tried to hone in on exactly what it was that was bothering him, but it stayed just beyond the reach of his psyche.
He caught sight of Parker: She was dancing with a rather tall, dashing young man in a double breasted tuxedo. The young man was a fine waltzer, and Sydney smiled for the first time all evening. They made a handsome couple, and Parker actually looked as though she were having a nice time. It reminded him of another couple, many years ago.
And Sydney recognized what was gnawing at him. It was Michelle. He missed her. He missed the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her skin, the way her eyes smiled at him when they danced. They had been wonderful dance partners, each perfectly in sync with the other. He closed his eyes, and he could still see her in her dark green dress, following his every move as he led her across the floor. Her smile, the glow about her; it had been heaven on earth, and it had all been taken away by the Centre.
He shook his head at himself. It was stupid, to remember a past which he could not have, a life that was not to be his. Why was he dwelling on it? Sydney did not typically feel sorry for himself; he needed to get over it. The past needed to remain just that, and the future needed to be faced without the weight of things which could not be changed. He knew this, and still....
Miss Parker noticed that her dance partner was slightly distracted, "Hello? Earth to David...."
He turned her yet again, and gripped her closer as they moved across the floor, "What? I’m sorry..."
"And here we were having such fun."
"I couldn’t help but notice, Miss Parker....your father--"
"--My father?"
"Yes," she followed his gaze and realized he was staring at Sydney, "He seems so sad."
Parker arched an eyebrow in Sydney’s direction, somewhat annoyed that a stranger noticed it before she did. The dark cloud hanging over Sydney’s head looked as though it might pour rain at any moment. But Parker wasn’t about to let the old goat ruin her evening.
She looked back at her dance partner, choosing not to correct the mistaken identity, "He’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just a case of that old-world-European-melancholy-for-the-past thing."
David shrugged and continued to whirl her about the floor. Parker, however, found she was now distracted by Sydney. He looked so alone. She sighed heavily. Damn. She glanced sidelong at her prey for the evening, David, and decided that he wasn’t all that and a bag o’ chips. Her sense of loyalty outweighed an evening of fun and games; besides, David hadn’t presented much of a challenge. If she had so desired it, they would be dancing privately already.
Parker stopped dancing and looked at David, "I hope you don’t mind, but the next one’s already taken...."
"But...."
Parker was already gone, making a beeline for the table at which Sydney was still seated. She gripped the back of one of the chairs opposite him with her hands.
"It would be a shame to waste the look of that double breasted tuxedo, sitting at a table. Not too many men can carry off that cut you know."
He was slightly surprised at her sudden appearance, and smiled to cover his gloom, "Miss Parker...what happened to your dance partner? You two made a rather dashing pair out there."
"I left Fred Astaire panting for more," she cracked, trying to make light of it, "the next one on my dance card was already filled."
He looked at her without comprehension, so Parker held her hand out to him. Sydney stared at her for a moment; it was a sweet gesture, but he knew she’d rather be cutting up the floor with the young man she met, and he didn’t blame her. He was embarrassed that his mopey countenance had taken her away from him.
Sydney smiled, "Miss Parker, that’s very kind of you, but I think you should continue with your friend."
She arched an eyebrow at him, "Unless I’m mistaken, I think you owe me one, Sydney."
"Miss Parker--"
"--Sydney."
Parker reached further toward him with her hand, indicating that he should take it.
He shook his head taking her hand in his, "You really can be such a persistent thing, Miss Parker. It was something I always thought you might grow out of....."
She closed her hand around his and gently pulled him toward the dance floor, "When pigs fly, Freud."
An ironic smile curved Parker’s lips as Sydney took her in his arms, and Natalie Cole’s Unforgettable filled the room. As a child, Parker had watched her father dance with her mother, and as an adult, with Brigitte; but never with her. It played on the most vulnerable strands of her psyche, and deep down she believed that in some way, she just wasn’t good enough for Mr. Parker.
It made her sad to think about it. Parker could sense the melancholy beginning to bubble toward the surface of her cool exterior, and she leaned her head into Sydney, in an attempt to keep it hidden. Sydney felt her lean into him, looking for comfort. He pulled her closer as he glided her around the dance floor.
His voice was soft and gentle, "Miss Parker?" She didn’t answer him, and kept her face where he couldn’t see it, so he probed further, "You okay, Parker?"
He felt a nod against his head, but it didn’t fool him. Sydney pulled slightly away as they danced, and looked into her eyes; the tears he found there surprised him.
"Hey...what’s this?"
Parker smiled through it, "Your dark mood was contagious, Freud."
"Mmm-hmm, and?"
"And don’t make me sorry I asked you to dance with me."
He pulled her back into him and smoothly led her across the floor. Anyone watching would have thought them to be father and daughter, repeating what they had done in a living room somewhere from the time she had been a little girl standing on the tops of his shoes. Leaning her head on his shoulder, Parker closed her eyes and allowed him to gently guide their movements, her mind stretching back to the very first time she had ever danced with him......
The Centre
Sim Lab
01 October 1970
Sydney picked up the chairs and stacked them in the corner. The Sim had gone well, but it had been emotionally hard on Jarod, and therefore, on him. He was tired, but hated to leave messes in the lab for the next day. He looked at his watch, it was only 4:30 in the afternoon. He put all of the pencils, papers and the like in the box on the table and let out a sigh of air.
The small voice from behind him, startled him, "Hi Sydney.....what are you doing?"
He turned to find Miss Parker, still in her school uniform, standing there, "Well, Miss Parker, you startled me."
She moved closer and watched him while he cleaned up the table, "Aren’t there people to do that?"
He looked at her, "You mean clean-up?"
"Yes. Shouldn’t there be a maid or something?"
Sydney chuckled slightly, "There is a janitorial staff, but I always take care of the research equipment myself."
"Oh."
Miss Parker sat down in a nearby chair, and began swinging her feet near the floor. Sydney stopped for a moment and studied the little girl; she seemed very lonely. Sydney set the book in his hands down and walked over to where she was sitting. He knelt down in front of her, taking in the distress of the liquid grey orbs.
He smiled gently, "Is something wrong, Miss Parker?"
"Of course not," she answered, continuing to swing her feet under her chair, her eyes still looking at the floor.
He dipped his head to catch her eyes with his, "You can tell me anything, you know. It can stay between us."
The feet stopped swinging and the dark grey eyes darted up to his. He smiled at her again, hoping to ease her mind. She had never been a child full of trust and since her mother’s death, she had become even more guarded.
"Has something upset you?" She shook her head, and Sydney tried again, "An argument with a classmate?"
She bit her lower lip, thinking, then finally, "No." The big, sad eyes looked directly into the concerned brown ones, "There was a special tea-dance today at school for the honour students. All the parents came."
"Did your father forget?"
"He was there, but when it came time for the dancing part, and all the other kids were dancing with their parents, he....."
"What? You can tell me."
"He said I didn’t know how, so we couldn’t." She was fighting the tears as she spoke, "My mommy would have shown me how to do it, Sydney, I know she would have."
"Of course she would have. I remember her taking you for ballet lessons."
"That was all before--"
The little girl’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away, as if embarrassed by the emotion. It was not lost upon Sydney. He tried to take her hand in his, but she pulled it away.
His concern for her was carried in his tone, "Miss Parker, there’s nothing shameful in showing emotion. It’s normal, especially after the loss of someone so....close to you."
Her voice quavered slightly, and was so quiet he had to strain to hear it, "Daddy says that I’m not to discuss my mother’s death. Ever."
Sydney closed his eyes momentarily. He knew that Mr. Parker couldn’t deal with the situation, but not allowing his daughter to grieve was so much more than cruel. And all for what? He reopened his eyes and looked at the sad little girl once more. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort her, but whatever he could do, he would. Gently Sydney took her hand, this time she let him.
He pulled her from the chair, "Come on Miss Parker, I can show you."
"You know how?"
"Of course I do. I’m a grown up, remember?"
She pulled her hand away from him, "But you’re just Sydney...."
He laughed, "So that means I don’t know how to dance, does it?" He knelt in front of her and tickled her slightly, "Listen here, Miss Smarty Pants, I’m a ballroom dancer from way back, and don’t you forget it!"
He held his hands out to her, and tentatively she took them. He moved a little closer to her, smiling.
"Now, I want you to stand on the tops of my shoes."
She frowned, "Won’t that mark up your shoes?"
Sydney couldn’t keep the impatience completely out of his voice, "Miss Parker, that’s not the point."
She smiled mischievously at him, "I know."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, at times it was just like dealing with Jarod, "Uh-huh. So stand on them then." Miss Parker stepped up on top of his shoes, and he smiled, "There that wasn’t so difficult. Here we go then...one, two, three, one, two, three..."
"It’s a waltz?"
He smiled at her, "Yes, that’s right."
She looked down at their feet for a moment, then back up at him, "Don’t we need music?"
Sydney stopped and looked at her, "Hmm, well, yes, but I’m afraid we don’t have any at the moment."
She looked up at him with the saddest eyes she could muster, "Please, Sydney...."
"Hmmm...."
He began dancing with her again, this time humming a French song from his childhood. Miss Parker’s giggling echoed down the hall....
New York City
The Waldorf-Astoria
06 April 2001
She suddenly realized that it was no longer Natalie Cole’s voice she was hearing, but that of Nancy Wilson. Sydney had not said a word, he had just continued to guide her along the dance floor, holding her close. Parker turned her head back toward him and leaned into his neck.
He looked down at her, "Everything okay?"
"Yes. I was just thinking...."
He chuckled softly, "Tell me something I don’t know."
"Do you remember the day you taught me how to dance?"
"Yes."
"I’ve never forgotten it, Sydney. It meant a lot to me at the time. It still does." Her voice grew sadder, "You know, he still hasn’t danced with me. I don’t know what I did, or what I said--"
"--It isn’t you." Parker looked up at him, and he continued softly, "He can’t bear it because you remind him so much of your mother."
She leaned her head into him once again, her voice a mere whisper, "I’m not my mother."
"I know."
The song ended, and Sydney tenderly kissed her forehead. As they moved off the dance floor, David stopped them, smiling.
"Miss Parker, you and your father dance beautifully together." Sydney and Parker just exchanged an amused smile, and David continued, "May I have the next one?"
Parker was about to decline, but Sydney cut her off, "My daughter would love to.....it’s time for me to retire anyway."
Sydney kissed Parker on the cheek and started away, the mischief in his eyes lighting the room.
Parker’s voice stopped him in mid tracks, although he didn’t turn around, "Don’t wait up....Dad."
He shook his head laughing, and continued walking out of the room. David observed Miss Parker watching Sydney all the way out of the room, a deep emotion shining in her eyes.
"You love him a lot don’t you?"
Parker looked away for a moment, embarrassed, then she smiled at David, "Did you ask me to dance, or not?"
The young man took her by the hand and gently led her onto the dance floor. He hoped that one day, he too would have a daughter who would look upon him with that much respect, admiration and love. It was a lot to aspire to; and so much more to hope for....
fin
