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Suppressed Memories
Part 1



Jarod stared in through the window in a state of shock, listening to the sounds of the violence that were occurring inside the room. He knew she'd been lonely after Thomas' murder but had never imagined that she would tolerate something like that. He winced as he saw her head slam into the corner of a table and her body sink to the floor. The male figure, breathing heavily, watched her for several sconds before swearing under his breath and slamming the door as he left the room.

Jarod waited several moments longer until he was sure the man wasn't coming back and then slipped in through the window. Moving over to her, he saw that she winced as he touched her and he murmured softly in her ear while he examined her, his mind checking her physically while his heart tried to understand what she was going through.

After several minutes he picked her up and gently laid her down on the sofa. She looked up at him candidly; eyes large in her pale face and her hair flowing down the cushion.

"Who are you?"

Jarod gave her his name, a pang in his heart that one knock on her head could have removed the memory of everything they had been through together, even as he wiped the stream of blood from her temple where she had made contact with the piece of furniture. She blinked several times, her face calmly turned up to his, but then she heard the muttering from overhead as the other occupant of the house spoke in an alcohol induced sleep.

"He's there? I need to get away! He'll beat me again. He always does that to me all the time. Please, let me get away. I've got to get away!"

Although the words were whispered, they were as powerful as if she had yelled them, as she had so often yelled his name when she was chasing him. He drew back and watched warily as she stood up. Her legs trembled a little, but she managed to move away from the sofa. Going towards the door, she leaned against the wall for support, her eyes tightly closed. He moved over to stand in front of her, afraid that she might fall. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Remember yesterday, when I kissed you?" A little girl's voice spoke from the mouth of a grown woman and the combination was both surprising and terrifying.

"It wasn't yesterday, Parker." Jarod spoke softly, a look of concern in his eyes. "It was many years ago."

She frowned. "No, I know it was yesterday. My Daddy got angry with me because I came to see you. He beat me."

Jarod took a step back, his eyes widening. "He beat you?"

"Yes, he does it a lot, especially since Momma died. Oh, Momma." The tears that the adult would never shed ran down her cheeks as she slid slowly down the wall to the floor and began to sob softly and piteously. "Momma, Momma, don't leave me. Come back to me. Momma."

Jarod picked her up in his arms and, sitting down on the sofa, rocked her, while he held her close. He knew that it was a risk to stay, but he couldn't leave her there, to be beaten again. As he sat there, Jarod made a snap decision, but continued to rock the woman until he saw that she was asleep. Moving smoothly, he opened the front door and carried her outside. When he placed her down on the passenger seat of his car, he saw her tremble, but a few murmured words as he put a gentle hand on her hair quickly calmed her. He went around to the driver's seat and had just started the engine when he heard a roar from inside and the sound of footsteps almost falling down the stairs. Jarod floored the accelerator and burned his way out of the driveway.

* * * *


Miss Parker woke to find herself lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. For several minutes she glanced around and then struggled to sit up but the pain that flashed through her head turned everything red and she sank back against the pillow with a muffled groan. Soft though it had been, it was enough to alert Jarod to the fact that she was awake and he came and stood in the doorway.

"Where are we?"

Jarod's heart sank when he realized that the sleep he had hoped would bring back the old Parker had failed to do so. "We're in the place that I live."

"But you live in the Centre."

"Not any more."

Miss Parker considered this for a minute. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I had to." Jarod came and crouched beside the bed. "I was unhappy."

"Oh." Miss Parker considered this. "Did my Daddy make you unhappy? 'Cos he makes me unhappy when he hits me." Suddenly, fear dawning in her eyes, she covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh, no. Daddy said I wasn't to tell anyone about that, or I'd be in trouble. Don't tell him."

"Don't worry." Jarod smoothed the hair back from her face as the tears of terror filled her eyes. "I won't."

She clutched his hand. "Promise?"

"I promise," he soothed. "Now you need to sleep."

"You won't let my Daddy get me?" she murmured fearfully.

"Of course not."

Miss Parker's eyes were growing slowly opaque as sleep overtook her and her eyelids closed but then she roused up a little. "Can you sleep here, with me?"

Jarod responded by straightening up and sitting down on the bed, taking her into his arms.

"Better?"

"Mmm hmm." Her voice was soft and drowsy and even as he looked down, she was asleep, curled up in his lap. The woman living in the mind of a little girl - he wondered where it was going to lead.

* * * *


Jarod sat looking down at her sleeping body on the bed where he had placed it before sitting in a chair, uncomfortable with the fact that his mortal enemy was that close to him, although to her mind they were still the friends that they had been as children. He watched as her chest rose and fell, as the breath came out in soft gasps through her mouth. Even in her sleep she had sobbed and it had ceased only a few minutes earlier. Her dreams - no, these could only be called nightmares - seemed worse than anything that he could remember experiencing himself, as she flung herself violently around the bed, only stopping when he held her tightly to prevent her from injuring herself. But then, as violent tremors shook her body and she seemed to shrink within herself, he knew that in her dream-state she imagined that it was her father who was holding her like that, and Jarod silently cursed the man who could bring this much pain on anyone, let alone his only daughter.

He had contemplated calling Sydney, had even picked up the phone and dialed the numbers, but the moment he heard the smooth, cultured tones on the other end, he had hung up without realizing what he did. Now he picked up a box and took out a diary that lay inside it. With reverent hands, he took the key and unlocked the book, allowing it to fall open on his lap.

October 16, 1969
I sometimes wonder whether marrying him was the best thing to do. Would we both have been happier if I had left him before her first birthday? I'm sure that he hurts her, although I haven't been able to catch him at it. Oh Lord, just let me live long enough to get all of those children to somewhere safe, but if I can only rescue one, then let my daughter get as far away from the Centre and from her father as possible. I never thought I could ever even think that, let alone write it, but I mean it sincerely...

November 28, 1969
"...now you are sad, but I will see you again, and your hearts will be filled with gladness, the kind of gladness that no one can ever take away from you." (John 16:22) I know that I should be loving towards others, as the Bible says, but how can I love a man who has done this to me? My time is limited, that much was made obvious to me last night. And they will never let me go. I know too much. I can only hope that no matter what happens to my daughter, that she will be happy and find some security and love in her life. Oh Lord, help her to meet a man who will be supportive and provide her with a true family. And I pray also that the Centre will permit her that happiness. "My children, our love should not be just words and talk; it must be true love, which shows itself in action." (1 John 3:18)


Jarod looked up from the diary, his eyes glistening with tears, and his glance fell on the figure of the woman on his bed. Her head swung from side to side, making the tears fall in zigzags down her cheeks as her mouth moved in soft mutterings, sometimes talking of her mother, sometimes of her father, and occasionally of himself. A sad smile appeared on his face as he heard himself spoken of, as she recalled the conversations that they had had and experiences they had shared. Then, as he watched, she lay quietly for a few minutes before her eyelids lifted.

"Hello, Jarod." The voice was the frank and naïve tones of a small girl. Again rest had failed to bring back the old Miss Parker.

"Hello, Parker."

"Why are we still here? Did my Daddy come? You didn't tell him, did you? You promised, remember. Where are we?" The artless chatter of a small girl poured out of the woman's mouth and she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before he could stop her. Then she got up and sat at his feet, looking up into his face. "Can we have breakfast? I'm really hungry."

Jarod checked his watch. "Actually, it's nearly lunchtime. You were asleep for most of the morning."

"I was? How come? Am I sick?"

"No, dear. You got a bang on your head."

"Really?" She scrunched her nose up in confusion. "I don't 'member it."

"Well, what do you want to eat?"

Miss Parker thought for a moment before a hopeful light filled the eyes that she turned up to him. "Hot dogs?"

Jarod laughed. "Okay, but they're not very good for you." Going out into the other room, he began to get them out of the fridge and to boil water.

"But you eat them." The statement was matter of fact as she followed him out of the bedroom and Jarod grinned.

"I know, but I eat lots that isn't good for me."

When Jarod brought over the plate, he placed Miss Parker in a chair, wrapped in a blanket in case, as he expected it might, the knock brought on a fever. Then he sat and ate his own lunch. At one point he felt her eyes on him. Turning to look at her face, he had an uncomfortable feeling. It was as though the old Miss Parker was looking at him through her own eyes. To hide his confusion, he spoke.

"Do you like it?"

"Mmm hmm." She took another rapturous bite.

Jarod felt only slightly more comfortable. He had never come across anything like this in any of the material he had read about regression. It was almost as if she had another personality, a young one. But that couldn't explain the fact that she continually confused the dates, jumping from the day of their first kiss to the death of her mother.

As the day wore on, Jarod allowed Miss Parker to play with all of the toys that he carried. The one she liked most was also his favorite - Mr Potato Head. The two had several hours of fun together with it as the sun slowly sank. As Jarod cooked dinner, Miss Parker watched cartoons on TV. Finally Jarod's watch beeped, attracting their attention.

"What's that mean?" the female voice asked.

"It's eight o'clock."

"Oh." After a second, she jumped up. "I have to go to bed. Momma always says that a growing girl should go to bed early. Haven't I grown since we first met?"

Jarod looked her up and down as she stood in front of him.

"Yes," he agreed quietly. "You have."

"Goodnight," she said cheerfully and walked into his bedroom.

Jarod stared at the television in front of him for a moment without seeing what happened on it. Finally he picked up the phone.

"Syd? I need your help."

* * * *


The psychiatrist stood silently in the doorway for a moment, Jarod having left the door open so that he wouldn't have to leave Miss Parker's side if she woke and the older man could see the younger one sitting in a chair and staring out of the window. Although Sydney had tried to stay calm and professional during the call, the information that Jarod had given over the phone left him wondering why he hadn't seen it coming. Abuse. It explained so much. Sydney knew that his arrival hadn't been heard and knocked softly.

"Jarod?"

The younger man jumped up from his chair. "I'm glad you could come."

"Well, you didn't make it easy to find you."

"I guess the fear of capture is always there." Jarod tried to grin but the concern he felt made that virtually impossible. He and Sydney sat down in the only two chairs in the room.

"What did...Catherine know about this?" Sydney spoke hesitantly.

Jarod picked up Catherine's diary and opened it at an entry he had marked.

October 23, 1969
"I am worn out with grief; every night my bed is damp from my weeping; my pillow is soaked with tears. I can hardly see; my eyes are so swollen from the weeping caused by my enemies." (Psalms 6:6-7) I can't understand how the man I love can treat his daughter this way. I want to go to the police but would they believe me? After all, children are always hurting themselves. And besides, I know what the Centre would do if I involved outside agencies. I wouldn't live to see my daughter grow up. But I sometimes wonder if I ever will."


Sydney looked at Jarod. "She knew then."

"Apparently."

"And she knew she was going to die," the psychiatrist murmured.

"When you work for the Centre..." Jarod's voice trailed away and he stared out blankly into the darkness. The other man was about to speak when the door behind them opened.

"Jarod?"

The younger man stood up immediately but Sydney remained seated. No matter what he had expected, it could safely be said that it wasn't this. The voice was the same as the little girl that he had befriended after the car accident that had put his brother into a coma. He turned, half-expecting to see that small girl again, and the shock of seeing a grown woman dragging a blanket behind her was almost too much for him.

"Sydney!" She ran across the room, tripped over the blanket, and hugged his legs. "When did you come? Did you bring Angelo? Is Kyle coming to visit too?"

The childish questioning was painful for Sydney, but even more painful was the reference to Kyle that almost broke through Jarod's stoicism and his face momentarily crumpled. Summoning all of his self-control, Jarod made an effort.

"What are you doing up? Do you know how late it is? You should be asleep."

Miss Parker looked at Jarod and her face was full of a small girl's mischief. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me. I just wanted you to know I was okay."

It intrigued Sydney as he listened that Parker either talked to Jarod as the friend that they had been as children, or else as a type of father figure. Equally amazing was the rapid way in which Jarod adjusted to those changes. While Jarod led the woman back to bed, Sydney sat and contemplated his options. He knew that Jarod was going to turn to him for answers - that wasn't new. He had been doing so for years. What was new was that Sydney was undecided as to the best way of treating the situation. He had absolutely no control over these circumstances. This was no SIM - this was real, and potentially very dangerous. There was no saying what damage the recollection of these memories could do to Miss Parker if she didn't find some way to deal with them. Equally, however, she couldn't simply be mentally returned to her biological age, as that could also leave mental scars that would be irreparable. She would never concede, when in her right mind, to treatment by him. But no one at the Centre would allow her to involve anyone else. They would kill her before they did anything else.

Jarod shut the bedroom door behind him with a deep sigh before walking over and sinking into the vacant chair.

"Asleep?"

As Sydney asked the question, he scanned Jarod's face with his eyes and was shocked at the change. Previously unseen lines had deepened, his hair was wild and his eyes were full of a frantic and terrified, as well as emotional, light.

"I think so, " the Pretender agreed. "She's like a small child, can go to sleep at the drop of a hat." He gave a deep sigh and a tear rolled down his cheek but it was on the side of his face away from Sydney, and went unseen by the older man. "Did Parker know Kyle?"

It was Sydney's turn to stare out of the window. "Yes. They met in March 1968. After Kyle was 'released', Parker fretted for company. It was then that her father suggested she meet you. It tied in with a simulation that the Triumvirate wanted done at the time, so I complied."

"And we met." Jarod's mind flew back to one day in 1969.

Sydney: I'd like you to meet someone, Jarod.
Jarod: You're a girl.


Jarod pulled his mind out of the past and stared at Sydney. "So, what can we do? We can't just leave her like that. Her mind's jumping around from year and year, and when she isn't ecstatically happy, she's crying because of the treatment at the hands of her father, or because of her mother's death. It can't be healthy."

"It isn't." Sydney's words carried weight and there was a short silence before he spoke again. "There is something... one way."

"But you don't want to do it." The prodigy didn't even need to look at Sydney to receive confirmation of what he'd said. He just knew. "Why not?"

Sydney turned and looked at Jarod. He didn't want to have to explain this. It was a memory, an order that he had pushed down inside himself. And it was the last spark that caused the argument before the car accident.

"Well, what is it?" Jarod's voice cut across Sydney's thoughts.

"It's...hypnotherapy."

There was a long pause. Sydney knew that Jarod was going over everything that he had ever heard and or read about hypnotherapy in his mind. It was something that he had always done before every SIM and the faraway look in his eyes was a giveaway.

"Well, what's the problem? It's one of the safest alternative treatments." Jarod's voice demanded the answer that Sydney was afraid to give.

* * * *


Miss Parker stared at the ceiling. There was something different about Jarod; she just couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed a little taller but it had been some time since she had last seen him, and probably not being in the Centre any more had changed him too. She wondered briefly why her father hadn't come to see her but the memories hurt her as much as he sometimes did, and she didn't want to remember. Instead she remembered her mother and the times they had had in her studio, staring at the stars through the window, while her father worked late.

The memory of that time brought back another: the sight of men clustered around her mother, in a hall at the Centre; the crouched figure of Angelo in the corner, watching with wide eyes. She had been frozen to the spot for several seconds, then she sprang forward and would have fallen onto the body of her mother, but for the hands that grabbed her and dragged her, screaming, down the hall. Tears ran down Parker's face and a sob escaped her.

Almost immediately she was in a man's warm embrace. She turned her face to Jarod's chest and let the tears soak his shirt. Sobbing, she heard his voice, calm and soothing, and felt him brush the hair off her face. The storm was violent and she was shaking with emotion before she began to calm down. Then, exhausted, she gave in to the sleep that swept her away into a dream where her mother braided her hair and they picnicked under a tree.

Jarod placed the still body down on the bed, then pulled the sheet straight and laid it over her. Pulling up two blankets, he covered her with them also. He had felt the chills that passed through her while he held her on his lap and knew that the fever from the knock on her head was beginning to develop. Then he turned to the other figure, standing silently in the doorway.

"That's how she's been, every so often. We can't leave her like that." His voice was soft but still desperate.

Sydney moved over and put his hand on Jarod's shoulder, guiding him out of the room. "We won't, Jarod. But first, I need to tell you something."

* * * *


"You tried hypnosis on me?!" It was not really a question but there was still a sense of desperation for an answer.

"Yes. I had to."

"You didn't have to. You didn't have to do anything." The words came out as a growl from the Pretender, who hunched himself in a chair and refused to look at the other man. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "What did you do? What suggestions did you make?"

"I..." This was the difficult part for Sydney and his face was covered in sweat, but he didn't notice. "I removed all of the emotions that you had about your family."

"What?!"

"I cut you off from everything you felt about your family."

There was a pause.

"When?" the younger man growled.

"The 3rd of February, 1963."

"But we didn't meet until the day after that, the fourth!"

"No, that's not true. The Triumvirate wanted to ensure that the emotions you may feel didn't...cloud your work. I was instructed to give you sufficient suggestion to cut you off from anything that you felt about your parents. Didn't you ever wonder why you felt so little about it all?" Sydney's voice begged for understanding but he knew that he deserved none. "And then I managed to persuade you while in the hypnotic trance that you had never met me."

"So you...while I was in a trance, you led me to do that. Why would I have?"

Sydney's voice was artificially calm. "Because you, as a Pretender, are very susceptible to hypnosis. It's easy for you to take suggestions and act upon them, more so than with many other people."

Jarod tried to curl further into the seat. This wasn't something he could ever have expected, and he wasn't sure that he felt ready to deal with it, but he had to know the answer to something.

"Why?"

"Jarod, you were nothing but a subject to me then. I had no way of knowing whether the Triumvirate was going to allow us to continue working together. I didn't want to get close to you in case they assigned me to another project, but you weren't like anyone I'd ever worked with before. I wanted to do whatever I could, in case they took you away and gave you to somebody else."

Jarod sat in silence. Then he looked up. "I want to feel it."

"What?"

"Take me back. I want to know what it's like, to feel my family. Please, Sydney, I have to know."

* * * *


Gradually the world faded until he could feel nothing but the calm voice leading Jarod into the peace of an hypnotic trance. He felt himself drifting and wondered vaguely if it were possible to be lost forever in a peace that he had never known was possible. But, with immense effort, he dragged himself back. He couldn't let go. People needed him. Relaxation, however, was easy and he enjoyed it. Finally he listened to what Sydney was saying. The psychiatrist hadn't wanted to include regression in the session, but Jarod had insisted. He knew that his self-control would bring him back to the present and not leave him in limbo, as Parker was. But he wanted to remember what life had been like in the first four years, before Centre involvement. Under Sydney's gentle guidance, Jarod went back to the farm where he had spent part of his life. Gradually he allowed the memories to flood back.

Sydney watched as tears ran from under Jarod's closed eyelids. Sydney himself had said nothing for nearly ten minutes, allowing Jarod to privately experience everything he had been forced to forget. After almost half an hour, when he was finally lying quietly on the floor where the hypnosis had been carried out, the session was brought to a close. Jarod stared at the ceiling for several seconds before glancing at Sydney.

"I felt her. I talked with her. After thirty-six years, I finally have my family back with me again." A solitary tear ran down his face, but it was not one of sadness. "You can't possibly know how good that feels."

"Have you forgotten?" Sydney chided gently. "You gave me a family, and thanks to you I got over feelings I'd never even known I was holding back when I was able to confront the man who took my family away from me."

Jarod's gaze shifted to the window where the dawn was breaking, filling the room with a pink light while the sky was banded in yellow and red. He didn't want to get up, only to stay there, remembering and feeling so much of what he thought had been lost, however a sound from the bedroom brought him instantly to his feet.

Parker lay on the bed, her legs tangled in the blankets and her face covered in perspiration, clothes sticking to her body. Her chest felt like it was on fire and she wondered how her father had got into the room and hit her that hard. Jarod had promised that he wouldn't let him but her father must have managed to get there somehow. Gradually the pain became too great and she began to sob, rolling over to press her face into the pillow. Then he was holding her in his arms but she pulled away and looked up. It was hard to talk. Her tongue felt huge in her mouth and, when she swallowed, her throat and head hurt too.

"Y...you promised not to tell Daddy." It was nothing more than a whisper but Jarod heard it. Confusion was momentarily apparent but then he understood.

"No, Parker, it's not Daddy. You're sick."

"Sick?" The voice sounded weak and confused.

"Yes, sweetie. You banged your head and that gave you a fever."

"So Daddy didn't..."

He held her close and his comforting arms gave her a feeling of security unlike anything she had experienced since her mother had died, months earlier. "I promise, Parker. It wasn't your Daddy. And I promise I won't let him in."

She looked up and the trust in her eyes was that of a child. Then she curled up in his arms. "I feel awful."

"I know." Sydney brought over a bowl with water and a cloth and Jarod carefully wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her face. Her mouth opened with a sigh but she kept her eyes closed.

"That's nice. Can I sleep, Jarod? Daddy always makes me stay awake when I'm sick. He says you get better that way. But I want to sleep." She began to sob again and Jarod and Sydney exchanged glances, as they further understood the treatment to which Mr Parker had subjected his daughter.

"Please, let me sleep. I'm so tired and I hurt really bad."

Jarod lowered his head as she forced out the last words. He kissed her forehead softly, as he could now remember his mother doing to him, and gently stroked her hair, holding her closer. "Yes, sweetheart. Of course you can sleep. You just close your eyes and relax. I'll stay here and take care of you. You'll be okay, I promise."

He watched as her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks two or three times and then were still. Almost immediately she went limp in his arms, whereas before every muscle had fought the sleep that her father had never let her enjoy. After several minutes he picked her up in his arms and laid her down, gently putting her head on the pillow. The light through the window was strengthening as every minute passed, so Sydney softly closed the blind. In the half-dark, the two men stood and watched as the woman slept. Then they left the room, leaving the door ajar so that they would hear if she woke again.

"My God, how much more did he put her through? Physical abuse, not letting her sleep when she was sick? What next, sexual abuse?"

Sydney nodded sadly. "I think it's probable. I mean, with that much power, why stop there?"

Jarod sat on the floor, drawing his knees up under his chin and then wrapping his arms around his legs. "Did you ever suspect that he might be...doing that?"

"I never really had much to do with her when she was little, particularly not after 1963. You were my main concern."

A fleeting smile swept over Jarod's face. "So you never knew?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps, sometimes, I suspected. But I was never really involved with small children outside of the Centre and, as her father often told me that she was a little clumsy, I guess I saw no reason to doubt it."

There was a long pause. Finally Jarod looked up from studying the marks on the floor. "How will we know? If she's been sexually assaulted, I mean."

"I guess it will all emerge under hypnosis." Sydney sighed as he thought of all she would have to go through.

Jarod looked up at the psychiatrist. "Did Jacob know?"

Sydney sighed and looked out of the window as the sun appeared over the edge of the horizon. "Yes, he knew about the hypnosis with you, but I don't know about the bad treatment. The accident happened before Miss Parker was even eight years old. Is there anything to suggest that the assaults were happening before then?"

Jarod carefully picked up Catherine's diary and then flipped through a few pages before he found the entry that he wanted.

July 29, 1967
""There is no fear in love; perfect love drives out all fear. So then, love has not been made perfect in anyone who is afraid, because fear has to do with punishment." (1 John 4:18) I hope that my daughter will be strong enough to put up with everything that happens to her. I would so like to be able to protect her from the dangers she faces, but I know that I can't do so forever. I only hope that she will be strong enough to be able to deal with everything that comes. That is why I give her love when others give her nothing but sadness."


Sydney looked up. "She knew, then."

"And you and Jacob were arguing about the Centre when the crash happened. Is that what the argument was about? Us? The children of the Centre?"

"Yes, Jarod." Sydney's voice was soft. "It was."

"Why did you keep working there after Jacob was hurt?"

"I...We, Catherine, Jacob and I had made plans to get you out, and to disappear with you. But after he was hurt, those plans were put on hold. Then Catherine died and I guess my courage died right along with them. I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I convinced myself that you were better off in the Centre, that if you were in the outside world, you would be exploited. I suppose I blinded myself to the exploitation that the Centre itself was involved in. And Miss Parker...I thought she would have to be better off with her father than under any protection I could offer."

Jarod got up off the floor and stood staring out of the window. Sydney tried to combat the feelings that swelled up and threatened to engulf him but he knew that he was failing. It was a relief when, without turning, Jarod moved over and picked up his jacket.

"I'm going to get something to try and get rid of Parker's fever."

"You'll come back?" There was a note of desperation in Sydney's voice.

"Yes, Syd. I'll be back."

The door slammed behind him and Sydney took several deep breaths. He was dealing with more, emotionally, than he had faced in all of the years he had worked at the Centre.

The Centre.

For a moment he wondered what the reaction to their absence was. He considered calling Broots, but he was concerned that the Centre might trace the call and he wanted to be sure that both Jarod and Miss Parker were all right before he let the Centre get involved with them again.

If he ever did let the Centre get involved.

His fists were clenched with rage as he thought through all of the damage that had been done. He wanted nothing more than to take the two away with him, perhaps including Broots and Debbie in the party. In an ideal situation, he could see Jarod and Miss Parker starting a family of their own, but he thought that was unlikely. They had both experienced too much as each other's expense to begin a process like that.

A noise from the other room brought him to his feet and, going in, he saw Miss Parker, her eyes bright with fever, looking placidly up at him from the pillow. The condition of the bed showed that feverish nightmares had caused her to thrash around and mess up the covers, and Sydney felt a momentary shame that he had been too wrapped up in his own thought to hear her.

"Where's Jarod?" Her voice, weak from the illness, rang thinly in his ears and he moved over to the bedside.

"He went out to get some medicine to make you feel better."

"He'll come back though, won't he?"

"He said he would. But he'll be disappointed that you aren't asleep after he told you to be."

"But I don't want to sleep alone." Her voice trembled and Sydney's heart flowed with compassion for everything that she had suffered. He sat on the bed and opened his arms. She pulled herself towards him and, with her head resting on his shoulder and the rest of her body curled up in his lap, he felt her slowly relax into sleep. The thought of how he must look with a fully-grown woman in his arms would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so serious.

A sound from the doorway made him cautiously turn his head to see Jarod with two figures behind him, at the sight of whom Sydney gave a sigh of relief. Jarod stepped across and scooped the woman up easily into his strong arms. Her head rolled onto his shoulder and, waking slightly, she put her arms around his neck. He sat down in the armchair that Broots now moved from the outer room into the bedroom and Miss Parker curled up into a tight ball. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.

"You...came back," she murmured as she burrowed in closer.

"Yes, Parker. I came back." With his eyes, he signaled Debbie to get a blanket from the bed. Wrapping the woman in it, Jarod began to gently rock her. Her blue eyes sleepily looked up at him and he smiled down at her. He draped her legs, in their pajamas and the socks he had put on her feet when he had brought her to his apartment, over the arm of the chair and used his spare hand to brush her hair, damp with sweat, off her face. Her lips moved but he couldn't understand what she said. Leaning his head against the back of the chair, he stared up at the ceiling for several seconds before letting his eyes shut.









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