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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: "The Pretender" is a protected trademark and I'm Just borrowing the characters. I promise to give them back once I've used them, hopefully more or less intact
Educating Ms Parker
part 2
by Giton
They came back shortly before noon. Most of their walk had been in companionable silence and she had to admit it had cleared the cobwebs. Sydney looked more rested too. They were back in the living room.
“What now,” she asked Sydney.
“We’ll try a few easy exercises first, which will help you to be more in control, then we will test the range. Is that agreeable with you?” She nodded.
Again, as they had done before, they went through the breathing exercises with Sydney still holding her hand to guide her. She was a fast learner and it was mid-afternoon that Sydney called it a halt and proposed a break to get something to eat. They were both hungry now. Sydney was tired but it wasn’t as bad as the day before and when she had started to tone her “sound” down the headache wasn’t so bad either. Her power of concentration was remarkable and Sydney felt proud to have her as a pupil.
After they had eaten and settled down. He sat in the chair opposite her, not holding her hands. Not guiding her. He wanted her to do this on her own.
He told her to relax and call to him in her mind while he did not join in the breathing exercise. She had to call gently, not shout and concentrate in doing so.
She sat back and relaxed. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt the pressure build in her forehead, just over the bridge of her nose and along the ridges of her eyebrows. It was difficult. This time she had a hard time trying to find him. She now realised that most of the time they were going through the exercises he had been helping her along. Doing it on her own was much harder.
He watched her. A small frown appeared over the bridge of her nose a sure sign that she was concentrating hard. He hoped she had remembered how to reach out.
Just calling Sydney didn’t seem to work. She changed tactics. He had prompted her that there were many ways to reach that goal and she had to find her own way to make it easy.
She tried picturing him sitting in his chair, then when she had a clear picture of him in her mind she called and “pushed” at the pressure in her forehead at the same time. Bringing her thoughts to the front of her mind, “Sydney?”
“Yes, Ms Parker,” his gentle voice was in her mind.
She had done it! She was so elated that she broke contact immediately and opened her eyes. She saw Sydney frowning. “Did I do wrong?” she asked him puzzled.
“No, but you have to do something about your social skills. Just leaving another’s mind so fast is not a pleasant experience for the other person. But I forgive you for now,” he smiled, “You did remarkably well, actually, on your first try. Yes, you’re telepathic as well, congratulations.”
“Shall I try again? I promise to be more courteous this time.”
“Okay,” he said.
And they tried again. This time she found it easier to make contact, say a couple of words and then ease herself out of Sydney’s mind.
“Well done, Parker,” exclaimed Sydney, “passed with flying colours!”
She was well pleased with herself and felt like a schoolgirl getting high praise from the teacher.
“Anymore?” she asked excitedly.
“Whoa, Ms Parker! Don’t you want to practise first? Know the expression, you have to walk before you can run?”
“Sorry, Syd, but I want to learn so much now! And I want to try it out. Can I, for instance, also “talk” to people who are not telepathic?”
“You might be able to send images or even suggestions, but talking in the sense as when we did is rather hard, almost impossible. If they are relaxed or unaware you might be able to come into their minds, they might experience it as a fleeting thought, but be careful how you go about. You will have to practise more to get accomplished to walk around someone else’s mind without damaging the memories and the thoughts of the other person. I will teach you how you can accomplish this when we get a bit further in the process.”
“Is it because you don’t want me to probe into your mind?” she was back towards suspicion again.
“No, Ms Parker,” he said wearily, “I have already promised you that when you are ready you can delve to your heart’s content. I will be ready for you then. This is just to safeguard that you will not do irreparable damage to other people’s brains and regret it.”
“Have you done such a thing before and is that why you shut yourself off?”
“Not quite, but you are warm.” They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Ms Parker couldn’t contain her impatience any longer, “But are there more tests to see how far I can go?”
“We can find out if you are empathic and in which form.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked eagerly.
He stood up and walked over to the dresser, picked something up and concealed it in his palm. He walked over to where she sat and sat down again. “You will close your eyes and I will place something in your hand and you have to concentrate on the object. Try and tell me what the object is telling you. You don’t have to give me a description of the object. It will be rather obvious. What I want to know is what you feel when you have it in your hand. Okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. He placed a ring in her hand. She touched it, fingered it, concentrated very hard, but try as she might nothing came to her. In frustration she opened her eyes.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Is that bad, Sydney?”
“No, it’s just that you are not a telemetrist.”
“A what?”
“A Telemetrist is a person who can tell where an object has been, who it belongs to and so forth, like a touch-empath but one who works with inanimate objects. I know the principles involved but I can’t tell you how it works exactly, since I am not one either.”
“But you let me get on with it…”
“You wanted to explore your avenues. Just because I am not one didn’t mean that you couldn’t be one. One does not exclude the other.”
“Point taken. What’s next?”
He smiled, “Ever so eager, Li… Ms Parker.”
She smiled back at him, “It’s okay, Sydney, I was only shocked when I heard you use it yesterday. I do remember that you used to call me that when I was a little girl. I first believed that it was only my mother who called me that. And for a moment I thought that you were the one speaking in my mind instead of my mother, so I was upset.”
“Understandable. Okay, if you want to do more… I think a thought without projecting it to you and you have to tell me what I’m thinking. Ready?”
She nodded. He sat impassively while thinking of Catherine. It normally made him sad and happy combined. He knew working out what the thought could be would not be easy for her.
She concentrated. She could detect nothing in his features that would give the game away. He could be like a Chinaman sometimes.
She tried to enter his thoughts but he had shielded it. No cheating it said.
There was a prickly sensation at the base of her skull and suddenly her being was filled with an overwhelming sadness that nearly brought tears to her eyes. The hairs on her arm rose and at the same time she wanted to laugh out loud. She thought she recognised … her mother’s warmth? It was very confusing. She looked over at him and saw him smile.
“You were thinking about my mother?”
His smile became broader, “Passed with straight A’s on that one too.”
She leaned back, exhausted but in the way of a job well done. Satisfied, yes, that would describe it better. She smiled back at him, “So, what’s your verdict, Freud? Do I pass your muster?”
He smiled sadly at her, “Do you have to ask? You always have, well, bar a few moments.”
“Sydney, if my mother had it and I have it as well, does it mean it is genetic?”
“Opinions are divided on the subject. Personally I believe it is, to an extent.”
“Does my father have it?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Or Lyle?”
“I hope not!” he said in mock alarm and then grinned, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Are my abilities strong?”
“I think so, yes,” he was getting mixed feelings from her and suddenly he wasn’t quite sure he liked where her questions were leading.
She veered off on a tangent, “Does Jarod have them?”
He was relieved when she voiced her question, “No, his talents are… unique. Don’t really think they are like ours, no. Difficult to describe his talents, actually, and I worked with him for over 30 years.” He harrumphed, “Fine psychiatrist I make, don’t I?”
“Are you my father?” There the question was out.
Although he had expected it, the question took him a little by surprise he managed to answer quickly, “No, although I sometimes wished I was.” But there had been hesitation when he said these words and it made her wonder.
“Yeah, sometimes I wished you were too.” Was he telling the truth to her?
He could feel her uncertainty and he wished he could say that she wasn’t his daughter with his hand on his heart, but he couldn’t do that. Oh, he had his doubts as well but the only one who could say for certain was Catherine and she was dead. It would be wistful thinking on his part.
It looked like she hadn’t noticed his own musing and he thought that she was still too inexperienced to pick up all the “vibes” yet. “What’s for dinner then?” she said jovially, not in the least showing any signs of tiredness.
Sydney glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock already? Time had flown this afternoon. Apart from feeling a lit bit more tired than normal, today everything had gone smoothly.
They moved into the kitchen where he prepared the meal and she sat on her customary stool, watching him. It would be nice if he was her father, she mused. At least the cooking was good.
After they had finished their meal they didn’t go back to playing “mind games”. They talked about mundane topics. Including a hypothesis: if one could telepathically talk to the animals, like Doctor Doolittle, what would they find there? They retired at 11 o’clock.
Sydney didn’t go to sleep immediately although he was more tired than he cared to admit. He called in his mind to Catherine and she had come. Her presence filled him with warmth and he regretted not having been in touch with her for such a long time.
“Hello, Sydney,” she said in her gentle voice.
“Hello, Catherine,” he answered.
“It has been a long time.” He nodded. She continued, “I have tried to reach out to you but you had erected barriers. I was unable to contact you. I thought… you didn’t want to speak to me anymore. That you were disgusted with me when you thought I had committed suicide. You were the only known contact I had who could tell me about my daughter. I could see her, but I couldn’t touch or speak to her. Why, Sydney? Why have you excluded me from your life?” There were no recriminations in her voice just the urge to understand.
“No, please, Catherine, it wasn’t your fault. I knew you couldn’t have committed suicide and it was classified at the Centre as “murder”, but you had also told me that you would stage your own disappearance. What was I to believe?”
“But the silence?”
“Not of your doing either, Catherine, believe me. I had not used my Inner Sense for nearly a year before you came to ask for my help. After showing you how to handle yours I have used it only sporadically until recently when… Monica came to see me. You see, none of it is your fault!”
She seemed to consider it momentarily, “But why, Sydney?”
“You have to ask, Catherine? Even with my Senses shut down I could feel the ghosts walking the corridors of the Centre. The pain and anguish that is emanating from certain parts of the building; I don’t even go near those places if I can help it! I had to shut down or go insane.”
“You could have left?”
“And had left Monica and Jarod to the monsters? You saw what they have done to Timmy and Ethan. How could you ask a thing like that of me? I know I’m not fully without blame but leaving wasn’t a valid option.”
She accepted his explanation. She slowly moved around in his mind. Touching on memories. Some still made him shudder in pleasure. A caress here, a small kiss there. She was very gentle with them. She turned back to him, “How’s Monica?”
“As adjusted as could be expected. She’s still sad that she’s lost Thomas, he was her lover, fiancé. She would have been happy with him and would have probably left the Centre; maybe that’s why he was murdered. She’s happy and confused by her newfound gifts. And…” he felt a bit embarrassed, “she’s wondering whether I’m her father, since our abilities are so similar.”
She looked at him in surprise, “You mean, you didn’t know?”
A feeling of dread gripped him, “What should I have known?” he asked, although he had already guessed the answer.
“You are Monica and Timmy’s father!”
He was momentarily stunned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you make me believe that Charles was Monica’s father and why was Timmy abandoned?”
“You already know the answer. It was safer for all of us.”
He was in anguish and it took all his control to keep the contact. She saw this, “I thought you would be happy with the news.”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry, “I am with the knowledge! But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew. I couldn’t say it openly without endangering us all. And I thought with your abilities…”
“I… I have never pried into other people’s minds to find answers.”
“You can be so damned principled sometime, Sydney,” her smile took the sting out of the words.
“What do I tell Monica?”
“The truth? Didn’t you promise ‘No more secrets’?”
“But will she believe me? She already believes I erected the barriers deliberately so she can’t find out about the truth! Do you really believe she will believe me that I didn’t know until now? She’ll hate me! To find and loose in one fell swoop, how ironic!”
“You don’t know if she will reject or hate you. I’m sorry if I caused you so many problems,” she retreated from his mind.
“Catherine, wait, I…” but she had already gone. What a fine mess this all was! He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness…
Ms Parker had gone to bed with too many questions on her mind. And she had trouble going to sleep. Trying to contact Sydney telepathically would be pointless, a) he needed his sleep, b) she remembered being thrown out of his mind the day before and c) after yesterday he would have his barriers up. Contacting her mother would be easier. Ghosts don’t sleep, do they?
She called to her a number of times before her mother finally answered. She had nearly given up, afraid that she couldn’t do it on her own.
“Hallo, Little-one. You seemed troubled, can I help you?”
“I think you might be the only one who can. It came up this afternoon. Is Sydney my father?” her mind-self looked at her mother expectantly.
“That, you have to ask Sydney.”
“I did, this afternoon.”
“Ask him again. I have already given him the answer,” and she disappeared.
Ms Parker opened her eyes, terribly annoyed with the cryptic answer. “Great,” she thought, “No matter how old you are, you are still treated like a child by older people who have known you as a child, even by ghosts! Just what I wanted or needed.” She scowled, “Ask Sydney!” She had nothing better to do anyway and she couldn’t sleep. Why would everyone else be able to!
She put on her dressing-gown and padded down the corridor towards Sydney’s bedroom. There was no light shining from under his door. “Sydney? Are you awake? Can I come in and talk, please?”
He had a good idea what she wanted to talk about and asking her for a moment while he put on his dressing gown. Rather then let her come in he ushered her downstairs. It was now midnight and neither was tired.
He walked into the living-room and over to the drinks-cabinet, “Care to join me?”
She said, “Yes,” and frowned at the same time. Sydney wasn’t known to be a drinker.
After they sat down Ms Parker took the initiative, “I…talked… to my mother and she told me to ask you about my parentage. So, I’m asking.”
He looked in his glass and swirled the contents slowly around, “Yes, I had asked your mother the same question tonight and she told me, and believe me Ms Parker this was the first time I knew about it, that I am your biological father!” He was surprised that he was able to say it straight while his mind was still in turmoil about the news. He looked up at her and saw a mixture of surprise, astonishment and anger flit past her features, He had shielded himself from her, not wanting to feel her confusion as well as his own or let his confusion be mixed up with hers.
“You… are my father?”
“It appears to be so, yes.”
“But not according to you!” There was anger in her voice.
“In all honesty, I don’t know. It’s a high probability. Your mother and I…We were… close, for a short while before your father started courting her. They were married quickly after that and when you were born, I naturally assumed…”
“If you are my father how can you still call him my father?”
“He has raised you all these years as his own, maybe he believed he was your natural father.”
“You don’t want to be my father,” she scowled at him.
“Ms Parker…”
“If you are my father stop calling me that!”
“Okay, Monica. I wanted… want to be your father more than anything else… and Timmy’s…”
She looked up in astonishment, “Angelo is my brother? That’s peachy! Lyle too?”
“No, I don’t think Lyle is your brother or at least not my son. Angelo is your twin brother!”
“Great! The resident shrink and the Town-idiot are my family. Any more surprises?”
He shook his head sadly, no more surprises. He could understand her anger. Could she understand his feelings of confusion and loss? “Ms Pa… Monica, if I had known I was your father events might have worked out differently…”
“Would it now, Freud? What would you have done to make the difference? Married my mother and be on the run for the rest of your lives?”
He had quietly nodded to her questions and lifted his head at the last one, “I suppose that’s why she didn’t tell me. She wanted you to have a “normal” and safe live. Somehow she wasn’t able to protect Timmy, if she doesn’t tell us we might never find out what happened.”
“And that’s it? We just go back to our normal everyday lives at the Centre, get more screwed up and let bygones be bygones? I just behave as if Mr Parker is still my father and Lyle my brother and you just the shrink who works under me and Angelo the freak that hides in the air-vents. Is that it? Then you can quite happily pretend you have nothing to do with me, because he raised me?”
Even with his defences up her anger was almost palpable, “Mi… Monica, I don’t mean to sound…”
“You don’t mean to do anything!” she spat the words out. “Like you haven’t been doing ever since the beginning!”
“That’s not true, I…”
“Oh, forget it, Sydney. I have done without the comfort of a father for such a long time, Bit late getting used to one now!”
Her words hurt him. He hadn’t known she was his daughter but he had always treated her like she was the daughter he thought he would never have. When he had noticed that Mr Parker didn’t spend much time with her, either because of corporate duties or other reasons, he had always been there for her as much as possible without risking the ire of the Chairman. He could feel the tears build behind his eyes and the pressure in his chest. He didn’t trust his voice to say anything out loud or trust her emotions enough to open up his mind for her in case she would tear it apart.
An angry frown on Ms Parker’s face confirmed his suspicions, “You just go and sit there, Sydney? Don’t you have anything to say to me, verbally or mentally?”
Her own anger and confusion was building to breaking point. She could quite easily believe that Sydney hadn’t know she was his daughter until tonight. Part of her brain remembered the brief moments when he had been there for her, filling the void her fath… Mr Parker was supposed to have filled.
Sydney, taking her to the ballet and then, later, teaching her how to dance for her first prom’s night. Sydney, holding her hand when her mother died and gently wiping the tears off her face. It was Sydney who had put a bandage on her knee after she had fallen off her bike the first time. Sydney, comforting her when Thomas died. Yes, Sydney had always been there, more than her father had.
But part of her also needed a scapegoat, someone she could blame for feeling so miserable now. At the moment he was the only one available to vent her anger at and her memory part of her brain slunk off in the shadows for the moment.
“You were my mother’s lover. Did you still continue after… Mr Parker married her?”
He shook his head. His principles would never let him date a married woman.
“And I have to believe that?”
He looked at her and sadness filled his heart. He knew why she was doing this but it still didn’t make it right. He scraped his throat a few time and in a broken voice he said to her, “Monica, if I had known I had children with the woman I loved with whole my heart, as I did your mother, I would have taken her away from the Centre. I would not even have started working for them. But when your mother started dating Mr Parker I thought she didn’t want me to be her husband and I respected her wishes.
We stayed friends but not in the biblical sense, if you know what I mean. She had chosen for… Charles and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. I had asked her once why she didn’t want to see me anymore but she was very evasive. I never got the change to ask her again nor did I feel that I had a right to persuade her to change her mind. She never gave me any indication or hint that she was pregnant with my children. And I, fool that I was, never pursued it any further.
When she started dating him we hardly saw each other. He was very possessive of her. To move on I concentrated on my work then had a short affair with Michelle until they made me believe she was dead…”
“It also means that Nicholas is my half-brother!”
He nodded and continued in a soft voice, “All the opportunities to raise any of my children lost to me. Nicholas is now a grown man. We’re friendly to each other in an adult manner but not like father and son. Luckily Michelle had found a good man who raised him as his own. I do not want to sully his memory and I am happy that Nicholas and I can be friends at least.
Angelo they turned into… someone with no past or future. Even if I told him, I don’t think he would be able to understand what is going on. And you,” he looked down in his empty glass, unable to express how he felt. How he had longed since she was a small child to be able to change her into a different woman. A warm and caring woman, like her mother, rather than the “Ice Queen” Mr Parker had turned her into
Resentment to the unfairness of the whole situation bubbled to the surface and he looked up to her again, a small frown greasing his forehead, “ …You hate me for something I had no knowledge of. You resent me for something I had no part in. Maybe it is poetical justice for the time I spent at the Centre. Yes, hate me for the experiments I conducted in the name of Science or cowardice, take your pick I don’t care. Even for some of the secrets, and promises to others, I kept from you over the years in, what I thought, your own interest. But do not blame me for the conduct of others.”
He continued in a more subdued tone, looking down in his glass once more, “I do not expect you to call me “Father” or “Dad” or anything like that, unless you want to. We have known each other too long as otherwise to change that at the drop of a hat. But give me my due for being a friend to you ever since you were a child.”
She had been silent for the last part of his dialogue and she knew he was right. She had known him for over thirty years now and knew that what he had just said was the truth. Although he had worked for the Centre all these years she also knew him as a man with more principles than was good for him in a place like the Centre. Oh, he had shown great cowardice as well. Maybe he had not stood up for quite a lot as he could have done, but if he had done so he would also be six foot under by now. But she had seen him stand up against Mr Parker on more than one occasion when he thought matters were taken too far, especially if it had concerned her, Jarod or any of the children.
How many times had she not wished for him to be her father instead of Mr Parker? But now that it was true… Why had she been denied all those years? And her anger and resolve crumbled.
She almost gave him a half smile, “You are right, Sydney. Calling you father now would sound false. I have called you ‘Sydney’ for so long it suits you better. And I agree it is not fair to blame you for other people’s choices. But why did you never ask my other to marry you? Why did you let my… Mr Parker just sweep her away from you?”
“What could I offer her? A beginning psychologist? A new immigrant to the country? Charles could offer her so much more. Money, security, a house, status, a mind not burdened with the past! I couldn’t! I wanted her happy and if that was her choice than so be it.
I held you once when you were a baby and I envied Charles for having you. And when the years progressed I had given up hope to have a family of my own. Not knowing I already had three children! In a way all children in the Centre were mine. My responsibility. For better or for worse,” he added softly, being close to tears he stopped speaking.
She could almost feel his sadness seeping through his defences and even without her Inner Sense she could see it in his whole demeanour. He had lost and been denied so much. She was almost close to tears herself but whether this was a feeling of sadness for him or for her own loss of not having a caring father when she grew up she couldn’t tell, “Still Friends?” she asked tentatively.
He looked up for the first time in a long while and she could see the longing in his eyes, the hope. His half smile which was so familiar to her touched his lips, “Still friends!” He said, feeling happier.
To emphasise his words she could feel his mind open up to her, inviting her in. Trusting her.
She found she had no problems making the transference. No preliminary exercises. He must be helping her. She could feel his “signature” when he did this.
He was waiting for her. Standing in an image of the living room. He “glowed” strongly, a smile on his face. He looked younger, his arms akimbo, letting her make the first step in his mind.
She moved slowly around in the “room”, seeing his memories as small fragile panes of glass neatly arranged around the room. When she moved closer she saw that the panes held slow moving pictures and stills. Some were bright happy moments and some dark and sad.
She moved her hand to one of the panes and she felt a slight touch of apprehension emanate from him, but it dissolved quickly. He had let her in, for better or for worse and he didn’t fear what was coming.
She looked at the picture again and saw him as a small boy with his family. He looked so happy then. She saw his father, mother, sister and Jacob, an exact copy of Sydney. All were smiling as if looking into a camera.
She moved to the next pane, a dark picture. Despair was radiating from it. It was a memory of when the family was split apart in what apparently must be Dachau. Barbed wire reached towards the sky and the feeling of two boys lost.
A bright pane, in which Sydney and Jacob outrunning everybody at school. They looked quite athletic. She smiled. Somehow she had never pictured him as such.
She moved onward. Bright panes alternated dark panes.
She saw panes of Jarod. Some were happy and radiated the pride Sydney felt for his pupil. Another pane, which showed the happiness Sydney had felt when Jarod escaped. She had always suspected that he wasn’t happy in chasing Jarod but here she could see it in plain sight. She smiled at Sydney in understanding before moving on to the next pane.
There was a dark and at the same time bright picture of a small, eleven year old boy. He was happy and sad at the same time. When that memory ended the little boy was dead. She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. She didn’t recognise the boy. It couldn’t have been a child connected to the Centre but she felt he was the reason why Sydney hadn’t been using his Inner Sense anymore.
She saw panes of herself, most of them bright ones. She could see his sorrow for her on the day they buried her mother. Pride when she passed with flying colours at the university. Hope when she met Thomas. Disappointment when she started working for the Security detail in the Centre.
She came to the pane, which showed her mother. It was a bright pane and looked stronger than the others. The way Sydney must have seen her. Her mother looked more beautiful than Ms Parker could remember. Even after all these years Sydney’s memory of her was like a glowing light. It radiated warmth and kindness. It brought tears to Ms Parker’s eyes.
She turned to him, “I’ve seen enough, Sydney, let’s go back.”
There was hardly a change in perspective and they were back in the living room sitting opposite each other. She could see his exhaustion of guiding her around his mind. There was hope in his eyes but he kept silent. Leaving it to her to make the first step. Not wanting to push her.
She looked at him with a slight bit of suspicion, “Was this all true, Sydney? Or did you just let me see what I wanted to see?”
His voice was sad and tired, “I had promised, ‘when I wanted to show you, no more secrets’. What you saw was… is me. It was what has made me. All the pictures were there, I did not hide any of them nor were they enhanced to “look” better. Did you find what you were looking for?”
Her voice was quiet, “You really did love my mother, did you? (-He nodded-) Even so much that you let her go?”
“What else could I do? I am not a fighter. And she made her choice. If that was what made her happy, or at least that was what she made me believe, than that was fine by me.”
“Oh, Sydney,” she shook her head in disbelief, “You should have fought for her!”
“No, Mi… Monica, I couldn’t and wouldn’t. Oh, I know, Jacob said the same thing to me, but I couldn’t! I know you don’t understand and I can’t explain it to you either.”
She changed the subject when she saw that he had difficulties with it, it was still, even after all these years, an open wound. He was right, she couldn’t understand. “Who was the little boy I saw?”
“Little boy?” he asked with badly faked innocence.
“Yes, about eleven years old. Dead! Don’t think he was attached to the Centre.”
“Ah, Victor,” a look of remembered pain flitted past his features, “He was a lost little boy whom I thought I had saved from an abusive father. I was wrong and he died because of it.”
There was a slight annoyance in her voice, “That doesn’t explain why you stopped using your abilities.”
He looked at her almost pleadingly, as if he was willing her to drop the subject, but she stared adamantly at him. He sighed, “Very well. I had helped him come out of a comatose situation, which had been caused by the abuse by his stepfather. I had told him that he could stand up to the man. I had been able to put that man behind bars. And for a while the boy was happy and leading a normal life. Then the stepfather came home and beat the poor boy to death. I was too late to prevent it. Victor later came to me and accused me of causing his death. Many years later he came to me again and forgave me.
When he came to see me the first time he must have triggered a reaction in me and I couldn’t shut my senses down. It was wide open to every thought around me. It was like having a hundred radios around you all tuned to different channels and cranked up loud. I had to shut down or I would’ve gone insane. I was sick for a while.”
Just remembering that painful episode drained all the blood in his face and he looked as if he was going to faint but he kept it under control as he did with almost everything in life.
“And then my mother came to you and you used your Sense again.”
He took a deep breath, “Yes. Hers must have been triggered by your birth. She was confused and couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She asked my help. She had homed in on me too, just as you did. I couldn’t deny her either. She was still my friend and if didn’t help her she would have gone insane.”
Ms Parker looked at him curiously, “And you never looked at her memories?”
He shook his head, “No. I was there to help her understand what was happening to her. I didn’t want to pry into her private thoughts. It wouldn’t have been right.”
“If only you had.”
He stared sadly down, “Yes, if only I had.” The tears that had been building behind his eyes for a while now where trying to come to the fore. He swallowed them back. He was going to be strong. He wasn’t going to give in to this weakness and made her despise him for being weak.
She saw the turmoil he was in. He still hadn’t been able to let it all sink in. Hell, she was still unable to grasp it all. It was worse for him. In a most un-Parker like gesture she felt the urge to comfort him, to take away the pain. She undulated from the chair and moved over to his chair and sat on the armrest. She could feel him tense next to him, uncertain why she had come over. Well, she had to admit to herself that she had always been living up to her reputation of being ruthless and that when she spoke in a voice of honey she was more dangerous than a striking cobra.
She placed her arm around his shoulder and gently eased his body to hers. The tension left him and he let her embrace him. This time it was she who opened her senses to him and let warmth flow from her to him.
It had been a long time that he had let another person come so close to him and her embrace reminded him of the warmth Catherine showed, albeit differently. To Catherine the warmth had come naturally, to Ms Parker… his daughter it came shyly, new found. He could not contain the grief, the anguish and the sorrow any longer.
She could feel his body shake with silent sobs and she moved his head to her shoulder. Stroking his silvery hair gently. “Ssh, it’s going to be alright,” she thought silently and hoped he understood.
The End
Educating Ms Parker
part 2
by Giton
They came back shortly before noon. Most of their walk had been in companionable silence and she had to admit it had cleared the cobwebs. Sydney looked more rested too. They were back in the living room.
“What now,” she asked Sydney.
“We’ll try a few easy exercises first, which will help you to be more in control, then we will test the range. Is that agreeable with you?” She nodded.
Again, as they had done before, they went through the breathing exercises with Sydney still holding her hand to guide her. She was a fast learner and it was mid-afternoon that Sydney called it a halt and proposed a break to get something to eat. They were both hungry now. Sydney was tired but it wasn’t as bad as the day before and when she had started to tone her “sound” down the headache wasn’t so bad either. Her power of concentration was remarkable and Sydney felt proud to have her as a pupil.
After they had eaten and settled down. He sat in the chair opposite her, not holding her hands. Not guiding her. He wanted her to do this on her own.
He told her to relax and call to him in her mind while he did not join in the breathing exercise. She had to call gently, not shout and concentrate in doing so.
She sat back and relaxed. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt the pressure build in her forehead, just over the bridge of her nose and along the ridges of her eyebrows. It was difficult. This time she had a hard time trying to find him. She now realised that most of the time they were going through the exercises he had been helping her along. Doing it on her own was much harder.
He watched her. A small frown appeared over the bridge of her nose a sure sign that she was concentrating hard. He hoped she had remembered how to reach out.
Just calling Sydney didn’t seem to work. She changed tactics. He had prompted her that there were many ways to reach that goal and she had to find her own way to make it easy.
She tried picturing him sitting in his chair, then when she had a clear picture of him in her mind she called and “pushed” at the pressure in her forehead at the same time. Bringing her thoughts to the front of her mind, “Sydney?”
“Yes, Ms Parker,” his gentle voice was in her mind.
She had done it! She was so elated that she broke contact immediately and opened her eyes. She saw Sydney frowning. “Did I do wrong?” she asked him puzzled.
“No, but you have to do something about your social skills. Just leaving another’s mind so fast is not a pleasant experience for the other person. But I forgive you for now,” he smiled, “You did remarkably well, actually, on your first try. Yes, you’re telepathic as well, congratulations.”
“Shall I try again? I promise to be more courteous this time.”
“Okay,” he said.
And they tried again. This time she found it easier to make contact, say a couple of words and then ease herself out of Sydney’s mind.
“Well done, Parker,” exclaimed Sydney, “passed with flying colours!”
She was well pleased with herself and felt like a schoolgirl getting high praise from the teacher.
“Anymore?” she asked excitedly.
“Whoa, Ms Parker! Don’t you want to practise first? Know the expression, you have to walk before you can run?”
“Sorry, Syd, but I want to learn so much now! And I want to try it out. Can I, for instance, also “talk” to people who are not telepathic?”
“You might be able to send images or even suggestions, but talking in the sense as when we did is rather hard, almost impossible. If they are relaxed or unaware you might be able to come into their minds, they might experience it as a fleeting thought, but be careful how you go about. You will have to practise more to get accomplished to walk around someone else’s mind without damaging the memories and the thoughts of the other person. I will teach you how you can accomplish this when we get a bit further in the process.”
“Is it because you don’t want me to probe into your mind?” she was back towards suspicion again.
“No, Ms Parker,” he said wearily, “I have already promised you that when you are ready you can delve to your heart’s content. I will be ready for you then. This is just to safeguard that you will not do irreparable damage to other people’s brains and regret it.”
“Have you done such a thing before and is that why you shut yourself off?”
“Not quite, but you are warm.” They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Ms Parker couldn’t contain her impatience any longer, “But are there more tests to see how far I can go?”
“We can find out if you are empathic and in which form.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked eagerly.
He stood up and walked over to the dresser, picked something up and concealed it in his palm. He walked over to where she sat and sat down again. “You will close your eyes and I will place something in your hand and you have to concentrate on the object. Try and tell me what the object is telling you. You don’t have to give me a description of the object. It will be rather obvious. What I want to know is what you feel when you have it in your hand. Okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. He placed a ring in her hand. She touched it, fingered it, concentrated very hard, but try as she might nothing came to her. In frustration she opened her eyes.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Is that bad, Sydney?”
“No, it’s just that you are not a telemetrist.”
“A what?”
“A Telemetrist is a person who can tell where an object has been, who it belongs to and so forth, like a touch-empath but one who works with inanimate objects. I know the principles involved but I can’t tell you how it works exactly, since I am not one either.”
“But you let me get on with it…”
“You wanted to explore your avenues. Just because I am not one didn’t mean that you couldn’t be one. One does not exclude the other.”
“Point taken. What’s next?”
He smiled, “Ever so eager, Li… Ms Parker.”
She smiled back at him, “It’s okay, Sydney, I was only shocked when I heard you use it yesterday. I do remember that you used to call me that when I was a little girl. I first believed that it was only my mother who called me that. And for a moment I thought that you were the one speaking in my mind instead of my mother, so I was upset.”
“Understandable. Okay, if you want to do more… I think a thought without projecting it to you and you have to tell me what I’m thinking. Ready?”
She nodded. He sat impassively while thinking of Catherine. It normally made him sad and happy combined. He knew working out what the thought could be would not be easy for her.
She concentrated. She could detect nothing in his features that would give the game away. He could be like a Chinaman sometimes.
She tried to enter his thoughts but he had shielded it. No cheating it said.
There was a prickly sensation at the base of her skull and suddenly her being was filled with an overwhelming sadness that nearly brought tears to her eyes. The hairs on her arm rose and at the same time she wanted to laugh out loud. She thought she recognised … her mother’s warmth? It was very confusing. She looked over at him and saw him smile.
“You were thinking about my mother?”
His smile became broader, “Passed with straight A’s on that one too.”
She leaned back, exhausted but in the way of a job well done. Satisfied, yes, that would describe it better. She smiled back at him, “So, what’s your verdict, Freud? Do I pass your muster?”
He smiled sadly at her, “Do you have to ask? You always have, well, bar a few moments.”
“Sydney, if my mother had it and I have it as well, does it mean it is genetic?”
“Opinions are divided on the subject. Personally I believe it is, to an extent.”
“Does my father have it?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Or Lyle?”
“I hope not!” he said in mock alarm and then grinned, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Are my abilities strong?”
“I think so, yes,” he was getting mixed feelings from her and suddenly he wasn’t quite sure he liked where her questions were leading.
She veered off on a tangent, “Does Jarod have them?”
He was relieved when she voiced her question, “No, his talents are… unique. Don’t really think they are like ours, no. Difficult to describe his talents, actually, and I worked with him for over 30 years.” He harrumphed, “Fine psychiatrist I make, don’t I?”
“Are you my father?” There the question was out.
Although he had expected it, the question took him a little by surprise he managed to answer quickly, “No, although I sometimes wished I was.” But there had been hesitation when he said these words and it made her wonder.
“Yeah, sometimes I wished you were too.” Was he telling the truth to her?
He could feel her uncertainty and he wished he could say that she wasn’t his daughter with his hand on his heart, but he couldn’t do that. Oh, he had his doubts as well but the only one who could say for certain was Catherine and she was dead. It would be wistful thinking on his part.
It looked like she hadn’t noticed his own musing and he thought that she was still too inexperienced to pick up all the “vibes” yet. “What’s for dinner then?” she said jovially, not in the least showing any signs of tiredness.
Sydney glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock already? Time had flown this afternoon. Apart from feeling a lit bit more tired than normal, today everything had gone smoothly.
They moved into the kitchen where he prepared the meal and she sat on her customary stool, watching him. It would be nice if he was her father, she mused. At least the cooking was good.
After they had finished their meal they didn’t go back to playing “mind games”. They talked about mundane topics. Including a hypothesis: if one could telepathically talk to the animals, like Doctor Doolittle, what would they find there? They retired at 11 o’clock.
Sydney didn’t go to sleep immediately although he was more tired than he cared to admit. He called in his mind to Catherine and she had come. Her presence filled him with warmth and he regretted not having been in touch with her for such a long time.
“Hello, Sydney,” she said in her gentle voice.
“Hello, Catherine,” he answered.
“It has been a long time.” He nodded. She continued, “I have tried to reach out to you but you had erected barriers. I was unable to contact you. I thought… you didn’t want to speak to me anymore. That you were disgusted with me when you thought I had committed suicide. You were the only known contact I had who could tell me about my daughter. I could see her, but I couldn’t touch or speak to her. Why, Sydney? Why have you excluded me from your life?” There were no recriminations in her voice just the urge to understand.
“No, please, Catherine, it wasn’t your fault. I knew you couldn’t have committed suicide and it was classified at the Centre as “murder”, but you had also told me that you would stage your own disappearance. What was I to believe?”
“But the silence?”
“Not of your doing either, Catherine, believe me. I had not used my Inner Sense for nearly a year before you came to ask for my help. After showing you how to handle yours I have used it only sporadically until recently when… Monica came to see me. You see, none of it is your fault!”
She seemed to consider it momentarily, “But why, Sydney?”
“You have to ask, Catherine? Even with my Senses shut down I could feel the ghosts walking the corridors of the Centre. The pain and anguish that is emanating from certain parts of the building; I don’t even go near those places if I can help it! I had to shut down or go insane.”
“You could have left?”
“And had left Monica and Jarod to the monsters? You saw what they have done to Timmy and Ethan. How could you ask a thing like that of me? I know I’m not fully without blame but leaving wasn’t a valid option.”
She accepted his explanation. She slowly moved around in his mind. Touching on memories. Some still made him shudder in pleasure. A caress here, a small kiss there. She was very gentle with them. She turned back to him, “How’s Monica?”
“As adjusted as could be expected. She’s still sad that she’s lost Thomas, he was her lover, fiancé. She would have been happy with him and would have probably left the Centre; maybe that’s why he was murdered. She’s happy and confused by her newfound gifts. And…” he felt a bit embarrassed, “she’s wondering whether I’m her father, since our abilities are so similar.”
She looked at him in surprise, “You mean, you didn’t know?”
A feeling of dread gripped him, “What should I have known?” he asked, although he had already guessed the answer.
“You are Monica and Timmy’s father!”
He was momentarily stunned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you make me believe that Charles was Monica’s father and why was Timmy abandoned?”
“You already know the answer. It was safer for all of us.”
He was in anguish and it took all his control to keep the contact. She saw this, “I thought you would be happy with the news.”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry, “I am with the knowledge! But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew. I couldn’t say it openly without endangering us all. And I thought with your abilities…”
“I… I have never pried into other people’s minds to find answers.”
“You can be so damned principled sometime, Sydney,” her smile took the sting out of the words.
“What do I tell Monica?”
“The truth? Didn’t you promise ‘No more secrets’?”
“But will she believe me? She already believes I erected the barriers deliberately so she can’t find out about the truth! Do you really believe she will believe me that I didn’t know until now? She’ll hate me! To find and loose in one fell swoop, how ironic!”
“You don’t know if she will reject or hate you. I’m sorry if I caused you so many problems,” she retreated from his mind.
“Catherine, wait, I…” but she had already gone. What a fine mess this all was! He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness…
Ms Parker had gone to bed with too many questions on her mind. And she had trouble going to sleep. Trying to contact Sydney telepathically would be pointless, a) he needed his sleep, b) she remembered being thrown out of his mind the day before and c) after yesterday he would have his barriers up. Contacting her mother would be easier. Ghosts don’t sleep, do they?
She called to her a number of times before her mother finally answered. She had nearly given up, afraid that she couldn’t do it on her own.
“Hallo, Little-one. You seemed troubled, can I help you?”
“I think you might be the only one who can. It came up this afternoon. Is Sydney my father?” her mind-self looked at her mother expectantly.
“That, you have to ask Sydney.”
“I did, this afternoon.”
“Ask him again. I have already given him the answer,” and she disappeared.
Ms Parker opened her eyes, terribly annoyed with the cryptic answer. “Great,” she thought, “No matter how old you are, you are still treated like a child by older people who have known you as a child, even by ghosts! Just what I wanted or needed.” She scowled, “Ask Sydney!” She had nothing better to do anyway and she couldn’t sleep. Why would everyone else be able to!
She put on her dressing-gown and padded down the corridor towards Sydney’s bedroom. There was no light shining from under his door. “Sydney? Are you awake? Can I come in and talk, please?”
He had a good idea what she wanted to talk about and asking her for a moment while he put on his dressing gown. Rather then let her come in he ushered her downstairs. It was now midnight and neither was tired.
He walked into the living-room and over to the drinks-cabinet, “Care to join me?”
She said, “Yes,” and frowned at the same time. Sydney wasn’t known to be a drinker.
After they sat down Ms Parker took the initiative, “I…talked… to my mother and she told me to ask you about my parentage. So, I’m asking.”
He looked in his glass and swirled the contents slowly around, “Yes, I had asked your mother the same question tonight and she told me, and believe me Ms Parker this was the first time I knew about it, that I am your biological father!” He was surprised that he was able to say it straight while his mind was still in turmoil about the news. He looked up at her and saw a mixture of surprise, astonishment and anger flit past her features, He had shielded himself from her, not wanting to feel her confusion as well as his own or let his confusion be mixed up with hers.
“You… are my father?”
“It appears to be so, yes.”
“But not according to you!” There was anger in her voice.
“In all honesty, I don’t know. It’s a high probability. Your mother and I…We were… close, for a short while before your father started courting her. They were married quickly after that and when you were born, I naturally assumed…”
“If you are my father how can you still call him my father?”
“He has raised you all these years as his own, maybe he believed he was your natural father.”
“You don’t want to be my father,” she scowled at him.
“Ms Parker…”
“If you are my father stop calling me that!”
“Okay, Monica. I wanted… want to be your father more than anything else… and Timmy’s…”
She looked up in astonishment, “Angelo is my brother? That’s peachy! Lyle too?”
“No, I don’t think Lyle is your brother or at least not my son. Angelo is your twin brother!”
“Great! The resident shrink and the Town-idiot are my family. Any more surprises?”
He shook his head sadly, no more surprises. He could understand her anger. Could she understand his feelings of confusion and loss? “Ms Pa… Monica, if I had known I was your father events might have worked out differently…”
“Would it now, Freud? What would you have done to make the difference? Married my mother and be on the run for the rest of your lives?”
He had quietly nodded to her questions and lifted his head at the last one, “I suppose that’s why she didn’t tell me. She wanted you to have a “normal” and safe live. Somehow she wasn’t able to protect Timmy, if she doesn’t tell us we might never find out what happened.”
“And that’s it? We just go back to our normal everyday lives at the Centre, get more screwed up and let bygones be bygones? I just behave as if Mr Parker is still my father and Lyle my brother and you just the shrink who works under me and Angelo the freak that hides in the air-vents. Is that it? Then you can quite happily pretend you have nothing to do with me, because he raised me?”
Even with his defences up her anger was almost palpable, “Mi… Monica, I don’t mean to sound…”
“You don’t mean to do anything!” she spat the words out. “Like you haven’t been doing ever since the beginning!”
“That’s not true, I…”
“Oh, forget it, Sydney. I have done without the comfort of a father for such a long time, Bit late getting used to one now!”
Her words hurt him. He hadn’t known she was his daughter but he had always treated her like she was the daughter he thought he would never have. When he had noticed that Mr Parker didn’t spend much time with her, either because of corporate duties or other reasons, he had always been there for her as much as possible without risking the ire of the Chairman. He could feel the tears build behind his eyes and the pressure in his chest. He didn’t trust his voice to say anything out loud or trust her emotions enough to open up his mind for her in case she would tear it apart.
An angry frown on Ms Parker’s face confirmed his suspicions, “You just go and sit there, Sydney? Don’t you have anything to say to me, verbally or mentally?”
Her own anger and confusion was building to breaking point. She could quite easily believe that Sydney hadn’t know she was his daughter until tonight. Part of her brain remembered the brief moments when he had been there for her, filling the void her fath… Mr Parker was supposed to have filled.
Sydney, taking her to the ballet and then, later, teaching her how to dance for her first prom’s night. Sydney, holding her hand when her mother died and gently wiping the tears off her face. It was Sydney who had put a bandage on her knee after she had fallen off her bike the first time. Sydney, comforting her when Thomas died. Yes, Sydney had always been there, more than her father had.
But part of her also needed a scapegoat, someone she could blame for feeling so miserable now. At the moment he was the only one available to vent her anger at and her memory part of her brain slunk off in the shadows for the moment.
“You were my mother’s lover. Did you still continue after… Mr Parker married her?”
He shook his head. His principles would never let him date a married woman.
“And I have to believe that?”
He looked at her and sadness filled his heart. He knew why she was doing this but it still didn’t make it right. He scraped his throat a few time and in a broken voice he said to her, “Monica, if I had known I had children with the woman I loved with whole my heart, as I did your mother, I would have taken her away from the Centre. I would not even have started working for them. But when your mother started dating Mr Parker I thought she didn’t want me to be her husband and I respected her wishes.
We stayed friends but not in the biblical sense, if you know what I mean. She had chosen for… Charles and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. I had asked her once why she didn’t want to see me anymore but she was very evasive. I never got the change to ask her again nor did I feel that I had a right to persuade her to change her mind. She never gave me any indication or hint that she was pregnant with my children. And I, fool that I was, never pursued it any further.
When she started dating him we hardly saw each other. He was very possessive of her. To move on I concentrated on my work then had a short affair with Michelle until they made me believe she was dead…”
“It also means that Nicholas is my half-brother!”
He nodded and continued in a soft voice, “All the opportunities to raise any of my children lost to me. Nicholas is now a grown man. We’re friendly to each other in an adult manner but not like father and son. Luckily Michelle had found a good man who raised him as his own. I do not want to sully his memory and I am happy that Nicholas and I can be friends at least.
Angelo they turned into… someone with no past or future. Even if I told him, I don’t think he would be able to understand what is going on. And you,” he looked down in his empty glass, unable to express how he felt. How he had longed since she was a small child to be able to change her into a different woman. A warm and caring woman, like her mother, rather than the “Ice Queen” Mr Parker had turned her into
Resentment to the unfairness of the whole situation bubbled to the surface and he looked up to her again, a small frown greasing his forehead, “ …You hate me for something I had no knowledge of. You resent me for something I had no part in. Maybe it is poetical justice for the time I spent at the Centre. Yes, hate me for the experiments I conducted in the name of Science or cowardice, take your pick I don’t care. Even for some of the secrets, and promises to others, I kept from you over the years in, what I thought, your own interest. But do not blame me for the conduct of others.”
He continued in a more subdued tone, looking down in his glass once more, “I do not expect you to call me “Father” or “Dad” or anything like that, unless you want to. We have known each other too long as otherwise to change that at the drop of a hat. But give me my due for being a friend to you ever since you were a child.”
She had been silent for the last part of his dialogue and she knew he was right. She had known him for over thirty years now and knew that what he had just said was the truth. Although he had worked for the Centre all these years she also knew him as a man with more principles than was good for him in a place like the Centre. Oh, he had shown great cowardice as well. Maybe he had not stood up for quite a lot as he could have done, but if he had done so he would also be six foot under by now. But she had seen him stand up against Mr Parker on more than one occasion when he thought matters were taken too far, especially if it had concerned her, Jarod or any of the children.
How many times had she not wished for him to be her father instead of Mr Parker? But now that it was true… Why had she been denied all those years? And her anger and resolve crumbled.
She almost gave him a half smile, “You are right, Sydney. Calling you father now would sound false. I have called you ‘Sydney’ for so long it suits you better. And I agree it is not fair to blame you for other people’s choices. But why did you never ask my other to marry you? Why did you let my… Mr Parker just sweep her away from you?”
“What could I offer her? A beginning psychologist? A new immigrant to the country? Charles could offer her so much more. Money, security, a house, status, a mind not burdened with the past! I couldn’t! I wanted her happy and if that was her choice than so be it.
I held you once when you were a baby and I envied Charles for having you. And when the years progressed I had given up hope to have a family of my own. Not knowing I already had three children! In a way all children in the Centre were mine. My responsibility. For better or for worse,” he added softly, being close to tears he stopped speaking.
She could almost feel his sadness seeping through his defences and even without her Inner Sense she could see it in his whole demeanour. He had lost and been denied so much. She was almost close to tears herself but whether this was a feeling of sadness for him or for her own loss of not having a caring father when she grew up she couldn’t tell, “Still Friends?” she asked tentatively.
He looked up for the first time in a long while and she could see the longing in his eyes, the hope. His half smile which was so familiar to her touched his lips, “Still friends!” He said, feeling happier.
To emphasise his words she could feel his mind open up to her, inviting her in. Trusting her.
She found she had no problems making the transference. No preliminary exercises. He must be helping her. She could feel his “signature” when he did this.
He was waiting for her. Standing in an image of the living room. He “glowed” strongly, a smile on his face. He looked younger, his arms akimbo, letting her make the first step in his mind.
She moved slowly around in the “room”, seeing his memories as small fragile panes of glass neatly arranged around the room. When she moved closer she saw that the panes held slow moving pictures and stills. Some were bright happy moments and some dark and sad.
She moved her hand to one of the panes and she felt a slight touch of apprehension emanate from him, but it dissolved quickly. He had let her in, for better or for worse and he didn’t fear what was coming.
She looked at the picture again and saw him as a small boy with his family. He looked so happy then. She saw his father, mother, sister and Jacob, an exact copy of Sydney. All were smiling as if looking into a camera.
She moved to the next pane, a dark picture. Despair was radiating from it. It was a memory of when the family was split apart in what apparently must be Dachau. Barbed wire reached towards the sky and the feeling of two boys lost.
A bright pane, in which Sydney and Jacob outrunning everybody at school. They looked quite athletic. She smiled. Somehow she had never pictured him as such.
She moved onward. Bright panes alternated dark panes.
She saw panes of Jarod. Some were happy and radiated the pride Sydney felt for his pupil. Another pane, which showed the happiness Sydney had felt when Jarod escaped. She had always suspected that he wasn’t happy in chasing Jarod but here she could see it in plain sight. She smiled at Sydney in understanding before moving on to the next pane.
There was a dark and at the same time bright picture of a small, eleven year old boy. He was happy and sad at the same time. When that memory ended the little boy was dead. She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. She didn’t recognise the boy. It couldn’t have been a child connected to the Centre but she felt he was the reason why Sydney hadn’t been using his Inner Sense anymore.
She saw panes of herself, most of them bright ones. She could see his sorrow for her on the day they buried her mother. Pride when she passed with flying colours at the university. Hope when she met Thomas. Disappointment when she started working for the Security detail in the Centre.
She came to the pane, which showed her mother. It was a bright pane and looked stronger than the others. The way Sydney must have seen her. Her mother looked more beautiful than Ms Parker could remember. Even after all these years Sydney’s memory of her was like a glowing light. It radiated warmth and kindness. It brought tears to Ms Parker’s eyes.
She turned to him, “I’ve seen enough, Sydney, let’s go back.”
There was hardly a change in perspective and they were back in the living room sitting opposite each other. She could see his exhaustion of guiding her around his mind. There was hope in his eyes but he kept silent. Leaving it to her to make the first step. Not wanting to push her.
She looked at him with a slight bit of suspicion, “Was this all true, Sydney? Or did you just let me see what I wanted to see?”
His voice was sad and tired, “I had promised, ‘when I wanted to show you, no more secrets’. What you saw was… is me. It was what has made me. All the pictures were there, I did not hide any of them nor were they enhanced to “look” better. Did you find what you were looking for?”
Her voice was quiet, “You really did love my mother, did you? (-He nodded-) Even so much that you let her go?”
“What else could I do? I am not a fighter. And she made her choice. If that was what made her happy, or at least that was what she made me believe, than that was fine by me.”
“Oh, Sydney,” she shook her head in disbelief, “You should have fought for her!”
“No, Mi… Monica, I couldn’t and wouldn’t. Oh, I know, Jacob said the same thing to me, but I couldn’t! I know you don’t understand and I can’t explain it to you either.”
She changed the subject when she saw that he had difficulties with it, it was still, even after all these years, an open wound. He was right, she couldn’t understand. “Who was the little boy I saw?”
“Little boy?” he asked with badly faked innocence.
“Yes, about eleven years old. Dead! Don’t think he was attached to the Centre.”
“Ah, Victor,” a look of remembered pain flitted past his features, “He was a lost little boy whom I thought I had saved from an abusive father. I was wrong and he died because of it.”
There was a slight annoyance in her voice, “That doesn’t explain why you stopped using your abilities.”
He looked at her almost pleadingly, as if he was willing her to drop the subject, but she stared adamantly at him. He sighed, “Very well. I had helped him come out of a comatose situation, which had been caused by the abuse by his stepfather. I had told him that he could stand up to the man. I had been able to put that man behind bars. And for a while the boy was happy and leading a normal life. Then the stepfather came home and beat the poor boy to death. I was too late to prevent it. Victor later came to me and accused me of causing his death. Many years later he came to me again and forgave me.
When he came to see me the first time he must have triggered a reaction in me and I couldn’t shut my senses down. It was wide open to every thought around me. It was like having a hundred radios around you all tuned to different channels and cranked up loud. I had to shut down or I would’ve gone insane. I was sick for a while.”
Just remembering that painful episode drained all the blood in his face and he looked as if he was going to faint but he kept it under control as he did with almost everything in life.
“And then my mother came to you and you used your Sense again.”
He took a deep breath, “Yes. Hers must have been triggered by your birth. She was confused and couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She asked my help. She had homed in on me too, just as you did. I couldn’t deny her either. She was still my friend and if didn’t help her she would have gone insane.”
Ms Parker looked at him curiously, “And you never looked at her memories?”
He shook his head, “No. I was there to help her understand what was happening to her. I didn’t want to pry into her private thoughts. It wouldn’t have been right.”
“If only you had.”
He stared sadly down, “Yes, if only I had.” The tears that had been building behind his eyes for a while now where trying to come to the fore. He swallowed them back. He was going to be strong. He wasn’t going to give in to this weakness and made her despise him for being weak.
She saw the turmoil he was in. He still hadn’t been able to let it all sink in. Hell, she was still unable to grasp it all. It was worse for him. In a most un-Parker like gesture she felt the urge to comfort him, to take away the pain. She undulated from the chair and moved over to his chair and sat on the armrest. She could feel him tense next to him, uncertain why she had come over. Well, she had to admit to herself that she had always been living up to her reputation of being ruthless and that when she spoke in a voice of honey she was more dangerous than a striking cobra.
She placed her arm around his shoulder and gently eased his body to hers. The tension left him and he let her embrace him. This time it was she who opened her senses to him and let warmth flow from her to him.
It had been a long time that he had let another person come so close to him and her embrace reminded him of the warmth Catherine showed, albeit differently. To Catherine the warmth had come naturally, to Ms Parker… his daughter it came shyly, new found. He could not contain the grief, the anguish and the sorrow any longer.
She could feel his body shake with silent sobs and she moved his head to her shoulder. Stroking his silvery hair gently. “Ssh, it’s going to be alright,” she thought silently and hoped he understood.
The End
