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For disclaimers and other info, see Part One.


In Someone Else's Shoes - Part Two

By: Kristin A.


* * * * *


After school that afternoon, I trudged wearily toward my car, feeling exhausted and defeated. The last hour or so had been rough, as the children had finished their work a little early and had become restless. I hadn't been able to calm them down until I began telling them stories about the various foreign countries I had visited. As I told them all about Japan, I had been mildly disturbed to see their rapt faces and curious eyes. I wasn't used to commanding such an eager audience, especially such a young one, and it had been difficult to sound confident and interesting. By the time it was over, I just wanted to curl up under my desk for a long nap, it had been that tiring.

Rummaging around blindly in my bag as I walked, I dug out my cell phone and hit the redial button. I listened as it rang twice, before Jarod picked up.

"Yes?" he asked cautiously. I noticed that there was no background noise this time, and Jarod sounded more shaky than annoyed.

"It's me," I said, feeling as if I had suddenly slipped into a parallel universe, where Jarod and I called each other to chat after work. The thought almost made me smile, but not quite. "How's it going?"

He sighed. "You're gonna kill me."

I paused, mid-stride, and braced myself for the worst. This was not what I had been expecting him to say. "What?"

"I lost her," he replied darkly. "I saw her, I actually saw her, and then... She got away."

I almost collapsed in a fit of laughter at his response. As it was, I was unable to suppress a soft chortle. Angel was alive, that much was clear, and she was smart enough to elude the Centre's finest mind. I already felt a little lighter.

"What's so funny?" Jarod growled defensively.

"Down, boy," I replied. "I'm just thinking how amusing it is that you're supposed to be a genius, more than a genius, really, and yet you can't keep tabs on an 11-year-old girl. What happened, did you get distracted by an ice cream vendor?"

There was a long pause. "I fail to see the humor in the situation," Jarod replied tightly.

"My, how the tables have turned," I observed candidly. "We switch cell phones and suddenly our attitudes reverse. I wonder if maybe our problem these last five years has been the cell phones."

"Parker..." he said warningly.

"Jarod, relax," I told him, still amused but doing my best to hide it. After all, I know how delicate male pride is, and I knew it was just cruel to keep pushing Jarod's buttons. Even if it was pretty damn fun. "You're missing the whole point here. Angel's okay. You saw her. That means we still have a chance."

He paused again. "Yeah, you're right," he said at last. "It was only about an hour ago that I lost her... She was walking down a street in her neighborhood, but then she suddenly disappeared into a neighbor's back yard... But I guess as long as she's out of her house..."

"Don't panic," I assured him, finding it odd that suddenly I was the confident one. When had that happened, anyway? "Meet me back at my room, and we'll figure something out."

"Alright, I'll be there." Jarod abruptly hung up, almost as if to beat me to the punch.

Laughing softly, I tossed the phone back into my bag and resumed the walk to my car. I was settled comfortably in my seat, the radio playing softly, and directing the car out of the parking lot when I heard a cough from the back seat.

Sucking in a deep breath, I pulled over to the shoulder of the road and stopped the car. I didn't have my gun, of course, but I did have 'The Club,' which I picked up. Then I whirled around toward the back seat, brandishing the makeshift weapon.

"Okay, who the hell is hiding back here?" I growled threateningly.

There was a small sniff, and I lowered the club a bit. "Hello?"

Slowly, a small, dark head peeked out from behind my seat. I nearly dropped the steel bar, I was so startled. "Angel," I breathed, my eyes drinking in the sight of the young girl. There weren't any new scratches or bruises on her face, thankfully, but she did look dirty and tired. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with pink.

"I hope you don't mind," Angel said tentatively. "I didn't know where else to go."

I hastily put my weapon back down on the passenger side floor and turned back to the little girl. "What is going on?" I asked fearfully. "Why have you been skipping school?"

"It's my Daddy," Angel said in a grave voice. "He found out that I ran home from school after those girls stole my notebook, and he said if I was going to be that way, I could just stay home all the time. He locked me in my room..." She sniffled. "I climbed down a tree by my window and got out, but now I don't have anywhere to go... I can't go home, Daddy will kill me. But there's a man chasing me..." She shrugged helplessly. "I knew you would help me."

I swallowed hard, nearly choking on sympathy for this poor girl, and awed at the trust I saw in her eyes. "Angel, does your Daddy hurt you?" I asked gently.

After a long hesitation, Angel nodded slowly. "He doesn't mean--"

"If I take you back to where I'm staying, will you talk to me about it?" I interrupted. "Will you let me try and help you?"

"I guess so," Angel replied. "Only if you'll promise that nobody will hurt me. I'm not supposed to trust strangers, but..."

"You can trust me, Angel," I promised. "And you can trust Jarod, too. He's the man who has been chasing you, isn't he?"

Angel's eyes widened in terror. "Yes," she whispered. "You... you know him?"

I nodded. "He's... he's my friend," I said, wondering when I had started to think of him that way again.

"So when you told Miss Robbins about your boyfriend Jarod..."

"We were both talking about the same person," I confirmed. "I just didn't want Miss Robbins to know that. He's not crazy, I promise you that." Even though he does seem that way sometimes, I added silently.

Angel's eyes darted toward the door. "I don't know--"

"Jarod's a good person, Angel," I said, realizing how true it was. "He would never, ever hurt you. All he wants is for you to be safe."

"But he--"

"Please, will you trust him?" I begged, feeling on the verge of desperation. "I can't do this alone, and I need his help."

Angel pressed her lips together, considering. "I guess," she said doubtfully. "But if he does anything--"

"If he does, I'll kill him," I promised. "But it won't come to that. We both want to help you."

"Okay..."

I blew out a soft sigh of relief. "Okay, buckle up, and I'll take you to my motel. Jarod's going to be there, and we're all going to talk about this, okay?"

"Okay," Angel said, obeying instantly.

"Okay." I turned and put the car back into gear, easing onto the road again. As an afterthought, I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Angel's eye. "You did the right thing," I said reassuringly. "I'm glad you came to me."

Angel just dropped her eyes and nodded silently. But I wasn't too worried anymore. The hardest part was over.



* * * * *



I pushed open the door to my motel room just in time to see Jarod pacing across my room. He stopped immediately when he heard the noise of my entrance, and gave me a guilty look.

"Miss Parker, I'm sorry," he said nervously. "I--" He stopped suddenly as Angel walked into the room behind me. "My... What... Parker?" His probing stare darted between the two of us, eliciting another laugh from me. I had forgotten how funny he could be when he didn't understand a situation.

"I found this hiding in my car," I said in a teasing voice, placing a gentle hand on Angel's shoulder. "Can I keep her?"

Angel giggled softly, and Jarod's expression relaxed at last. "I'm so glad you're okay," he told the little girl sincerely. He reached one arm out, almost as if he wanted to hug her, but he awkwardly drew back and pointed toward the bed. "Why don't we sit down?" he suggested.

"Good idea." I steered Angel toward the bed, and both of us climbed up, getting comfortable.

Jarod pulled a chair up close and eased his tall frame into it, obviously trying to appear non-threatening. "I know you saw me following you today," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," Angel said softly, looking down. "It's just..."

"I know, what I did to your dad probably scared you," he said. "I guess I need to rethink my methods a little bit. But I promise, everything I did was to help you."

Angel looked up at him finally, her eyes wide with confusion. "But why?"

He sighed softly. "I was working in the hospital for awhile," he admitted. "I saw you when you came in for a possible wrist fracture. Do you remember?"

She nodded slowly, comprehension dawning on her face. "The X-Ray guy," she murmured. "I knew it."

"Yeah, that was me. I didn't examine you, but from what the doctor told me, I knew what was going on." He paused for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Your dad hits you, doesn't he?"

Angel closed her eyes and sighed. "Sometimes, yeah," she whispered. "But he doesn't mean to, honestly. He loves me, it's just..." she trailed off wearily.

"Angel, I know that you love your father, but you have to realize that what he's doing to you is wrong," I spoke up at last, surprising myself. "No one should ever have to worry about being hit, especially by a parent."

"But sometimes I don't do what he says, or I get in his way..."

"Why did you hide in my car today?" I challenged. "Because he scared you, right?"

Angel nodded mutely.

"Well, then. Maybe it's time to stop defending him and start taking care of yourself."

Angel's eyes flashed defiantly, although the rest of her remained passive and timid. "Why is this so important to you?" she asked. "What difference does it make to you what my father does?"

"Because my father hurt me, too," I murmured, feeling the hot tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes.

Instantly, Angel's mouth dropped open and she stared at me in amazement. "Will you tell me about it?" I asked. "How did you get through it?"

I glanced fearfully at Jarod. "Um..."

"You can do it, Parker," Jarod said softly, moving his chair even closer to the bed and reaching out for my hand.

Hesitantly, I uncurled my fist and allowed him to loosely grasp my fingers. I watched with curious detachment as he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles and the back of my hand, amazed at how natural the action seemed. Then I looked back at Angel, who was waiting patiently, and bravely began to tell my story.



* * * * *



By the time I had finished telling Angel the abbreviated and censored version of my father's abuse, all three of us were in tears. Nobody seemed to know what to say or do for a few minutes, until finally Jarod pulled his hand away from mine and got to his feet. Wordlessly, he began to pace again, and I could feel the anger and tension emanating from his direction.

I looked over at Angel, who was wiping her nose on the sleeve of her white sweater, and gave her a gentle smile. "So, you see," I concluded quietly, "I just don't want you to be hurt anymore. I know you love your Daddy, but like you said, he's sick. He needs help if he's ever going to get better, and you need to be away from him while he's getting help. Do you understand?"

Angel nodded wearily. "It's just... I'm scared."

"I know you are." I patted the girl softly on the shoulder. "My other friend Sydney is going to find you a good foster home. Only the very best, I promise. And you can stay there while your Daddy's getting well. All you have to do is tell him what your Daddy does to you."

"Can't I stay with you?" Angel asked, her voice heartbreakingly small.

I felt an ache deep in my chest. "No, I'm sorry," I said regretfully. "I'd love that, but... my life is too unstable, dangerous... It wouldn't be safe for you."

"Maybe you need to find a new home, too," Angel said wisely.

I smiled gently as Jarod paused to catch my eye before resuming his restless pacing. "Maybe," I conceded. "But for now, you need to find a steady home. And Sydney's going to help you with that. I promise, you can trust him, too. He's our friend."

Angel sighed. "Alright," I said, pouting slightly, but obviously trying to be agreeable.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked after a minute. "What made you come to me for help?"

Angel smiled crookedly. "I remember that you came to my house," she said. "I saw you and that other man talking to Daddy. Then the next day, you were my teacher. You were dressed all different, and you acted much nicer, but I knew it was you. Your name isn't really Bridget Murphy, and it's not Miss Tyler, either." She nodded toward Jarod. "He keeps calling you Parker."

"You're right," I said, nearly smacking my forehead as I realized the obvious. Angel had known all along that I was a fraud."Is that all? You asked me for help because you knew I wasn't who I pretended to be?"

"Well... No, it's silly."

"Tell me," I urged, curious.

Angel bit her lip. "I just had a feeling that I could trust you. Like... like you were connected to me somehow. I just... trusted you. I've been wanting to ask somebody for help, but you were the first person I trusted. I wasn't sure if I should, but when my Daddy locked me up... I got scared. He's never done that before, and I just knew it was time... I felt like maybe you would listen to me."

Tears jumped once again to my eyes, pooling inside for a long moment before sliding down my cheeks. I imagined, strangely, that I could hear my mother's voice telling me how proud she was. "I'm glad you came to talk to me," I whispered, reaching for her hand.

Angel squeezed my hand slightly. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to your friend Sydney," she said bravely. "If you promise me that my Daddy won't just get thrown into jail, and that I won't get hurt by my new family."

"I promise," I said, nodding.

"Okay. So maybe you can come get me tomorrow afternoon?"

"What?" I narrowed my eyes. "Get you from where?"

"My house," Angel replied. "I'm going home tonight."

"No!" Jarod said forcefully, turning around and staring at her.

Angel's eyes widened in fear. "I--"

"You can't go back there," Jarod said firmly.

"Jarod, you're scaring her," I spoke up, looking between the two. "Calm down, please."

Jarod stared at Angel for a few more seconds before turning his gaze on me. Instantly, he softened and turned away again, muttering to himself.

That obstacle overcome, I turned back to Angel. "Now, why do you want to go home tonight?" I asked, fighting my own nausea at the idea.

"I don't know when I'm going to see my Daddy again," Angel said shakily. "I... I just want to see him once more."

"Don't you think he'll hurt you?" I asked.

She shrugged. "He doesn't do it every night," she said practically. "Please, I'm going to miss him so much... He's all I have."

"Parker..." Jarod said warningly, keeping his back to the two of us.

"It's not a good idea,"I said reluctantly, understanding Angel's problem but agreeing mostly with Jarod.

Angel's eyes took on that contrary expression again and she frowned. "I'm not going to let you keep me prisoner in here," she said. "That's what he did to me."

"We're not trying to hold you prisoner," I said carefully. "We just want to keep you safe. We'll worry about you if you go home."

"I want to go home," Angel insisted. "Please... it's all I have. And I need to pack some things..."

I felt my resolve begin to weaken. I knew if I was in Angel's position, I'd want to go back home, too. In fact, I had been in Angel's position once, and I'd been terribly afraid to leave my home, as much as I had hated it. I understood. "Well, maybe just tonight," I said uncertainly. "But I really don't want you to..."

"Thank you!" Angel cried, surprising me by throwing her thin arms around me. "I promise, I'll do everything else you say, if I can just have one more night..."

"Okay," I said. "We'll take you home and come back for you in the morning. Are you sure we can do it without your father finding out what happened?"

"I'm sure. He won't be home until later tonight."

"I can't support this," Jarod spoke up darkly, still refusing to face us. "I wish you'd reconsider."

"She has to do what feels right, Jarod," I said diplomatically. "If we want to take care of Angel, we have to consider her feelings. Okay?"

His shoulders sagged, but he nodded. "I'll be picking you up at 10 AM," he said, sounding defeated. "We'll go straight to Sydney."

"This is so weird," Angel remarked, sitting up straighter on the bed. "But thank you."

I smiled at Angel, thinking how amazing and intelligent this young girl was. It was incredible, really, how grown up she was. Yet still, she had the ability to be so trusting and hopeful. I supposed that abuse had a way of aging children prematurely, although not completely. I could certainly attest to that.

"Hey," I said suddenly, remembering something. "I have your notebook." I got up from the bed and retrieved it from my suitcase, where I had stashed it the night before. "I took it from the girls," I explained, handing it to the grateful child. "I recognized it as yours."

Angel smiled tearfully. "Thank you," she said, clutching the notebook to her chest.

"You're welcome." I patted the dark head fondly. "Now, before we take you home, how about we go find some ice cream?" I suggested.

Angel's eyes lit up, and suddenly she was just a little girl again. "Can we?"

"Jarod?" I asked, turning to him. "Know any good places where we won't be seen?"

Jarod turned slowly, and despite himself, he cracked a tiny smile. "I might know someplace," he said.

I grinned. "Well, lead the way," I directed cheerfully. I held Angel's hand as the two of us followed Jarod outside, suppressing the urge to laugh. You can always count on Jarod to find ice cream in a crisis situation.



* * * * *



"Are you sure about this?"

Angel met Jarod's eye briefly and nodded. "I want my Daddy to get help, but I need to say goodbye first. Not that I'll actually say it, but..."

"I understand," I spoke up. "We're worried about you, though."

"I'll be fine."

The three of us sat in my car, a few blocks away from the McCann house. We had gone to an ice cream place two towns over, and while Angel and I bonded, Jarod had kept respectfully quiet. I had caught him staring at me several times, but every time our eyes met, he had looked away. I wasn't sure if he was mad at me, or just angry with the whole situation. In any case, I decided to ignore him for the moment and concentrate on Angel.

At the ice cream store, when Angel had come dangerously close to spilling fudge sauce on her dress, I had asked about her unusual clothing. Angel had revealed, as I had suspected, that the white dress she always wore was her mother's wedding dress, cut down to fit her better. She said the dress just felt like her mother, and when she wore it, she could almost hear her mother's voice. I sympathized deeply, and told the little girl to always keep her mother's memory close.

"Well, I better go," Angel said, breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon the car.

I cleared my throat and nodded. "Alright, kid. Let's do this." I got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. I leaned in slightly to give Angel a hug, then helped her out. "Remember, just pack what you need, and don't let your Daddy know what you're doing."

Jarod got out as well, and came around to where we were standing. He held out my cell phone. "Take this," he offered, shooting me an apologetic look. "Leave it turned off, and use it to call Miss Parker tonight before bed. You remember the number I told you, right?"

Angel nodded and took the phone timidly.

"Good." Jarod sighed softly. "And if you get scared, or change your mind, or anything happens, promise me you'll call?"

"Promise," she agreed. She looked up tearfully at me. "I gotta go."

"I know." I leaned down for another hug and then nodded toward Angel's street. "Don't get caught," I warned.

"I won't. Bye." Angel smiled briefly at the two of us and began to walk away, only looking back once.

After she had disappeared around the corner, Jarod and I reluctantly got back in the car. The tension inside was so thick, I felt like I was choking on it. I rested my head wearily on the steering wheel and sighed.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I know you hate this. I do too. But we have to respect her wishes. We can't just kidnap a child, even if it is for her own good."

"Yeah, I know." There was a long pause. "Remember how I said I needed you for this?" he asked.

Surprised, I lifted my head and looked at Jarod. He looked tired and worn down, but his expression was similar to that of a proud parent. "Yeah," I replied, nodding. I had originally thought he was crazy when he had recruited me for this crusade, but now I could see that my presence was the only reason Angel had decided to escape her situation. It was a frightening responsibility to know that I had the power of altering a child's future.

"Looks like I was right," he murmured, smiling gently.

"Looks like," I agreed. Suddenly uncomfortable with the weight of his stare, I turned away and started the car. "I need to pick up Sydney," I remembered suddenly, checking my watch.

"Drop me off at your motel so I can get my car," Jarod requested. "I have some things I should take care of, and then I want to be there tomorrow when you get Angel."

"Why don't you stay with us?" I asked, realizing that I was strangely unwilling to let him go. "We can all go eat."

He chuckled gently. "That sounds nice, but I really do need to work on some things. For instance, making sure someone will be teaching your class tomorrow. Since you won't be showing up."

I laughed, embarrassed that I hadn't even thought of that. "Yeah, I guess that's important," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about it, I have it all figured out," he said mysteriously. "Anyway, there are a few other things I need to set up, in case things go wrong tomorrow..."

I sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "Okay, fine. But you can come back later, if you want." Realizing how needy and pathetic that sounded, I rushed on awkwardly. "I mean, you don't have a phone anymore, so if something happens, I won't be able to call you. You might as well stay close."

"Alright, then, I'll be back," he promised.

"Okay." I pulled back into the road and began the short drive to the motel. I realized suddenly that I lost control of this whole situation. I had allowed Jarod to get close; I had allowed myself to need him. That was going to be a problem.

The mission to help Angel was almost over, and I was proud and happy that I was going to be able to help the girl. But at the same time, I knew that my life wouldn't be the same again. I was almost beginning to enjoy working with Jarod, knowing that we would both look after each other, but I knew it was not something that could last. In other day or two, I'd be back to hunting him down.

"Your mother would be really proud of you, you know," Jarod spoke up as I pulled the car into the motel parking lot.

I grimaced at his typical attempt to exploit my emotional bond to my mother. I knew he was right, of course, and that he was trying to make me feel good about what we were doing, but a part of me still resented him for knowing just how to get to me. "I guess," I muttered. I stopped the car. "See you later."

He smiled slightly. "See you later." He got out of the car and walked to his own, without sparing even a glance over his shoulder.

I watched him as he got into his car, wondering idly what he was going to do for the next two hours, and glad that he hadn't asked for my help. Jarod's talent was in considering all the details and being prepared for every situation, and it always made me tired when I tried to contemplate his methods. Still, I had to admit to myself, I was usually very impressed with his work.

Realizing that I was still staring, and that my thoughts were going in all sorts of strange directions, I forced myself to get moving. I maneuvered the car back out onto the street and headed toward the place where Sydney was working. The whole time, I wondered just what I would say to Sydney about my day.



* * * * *



That evening, instead of an early dinner with Sydney, I opted to hurry back to the motel for a long, hot bath. The stress of the day was catching up to me, and I just felt like I really needed to take a little "me" time before I was invaded by Jarod. Sure, I was the one who had invited him over, but that didn't mean I wasn't nervous and a little freaked out about the whole thing. After all, what exactly were we going to do all evening while we waited for Angel's call? Play cards or something?

As I had hoped, the bath was heavenly, and absolutely what I needed. I felt a hundred times more relaxed, and almost even prepared for Jarod's visit. I could handle this, it was no big deal. I had been forced to do much worse things in my life than spend a quiet evening with a kind, decent man. Even if that man was Jarod.

After my bath, I dried my hair and dressed in the t-shirt and pair of jeans that I always kept in my bag for emergencies. I contemplated makeup, but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. This wasn't a date, anyway. It was more like a vigil.

So it was with confidence and contentment that I strode out of the bathroom, barefoot and relaxed, nearly an hour and a half later. But as usual, my peace wasn't meant to last.

As soon as I opened the bathroom door, I was greeted with the sound of hearty laughter. Then I was treated to a peculiar sight. Over in the corner of the room, sitting at my table, were Sydney and Jarod. There was a chess board between them, and Sydney's hand was hovering over it uncertainly. Beside them, on a spare chair that must have been stolen from Syd's room, was a large pizza box.

Realizing that they hadn't seen me, I stood in the doorway and watched them for a few minutes, struggling between the desperate need to run away and the urge to go over and join them. They looked cheerful enough, but I didn't know if I necessarily wanted to interrupt their moment with my perpetual bad mood.

Eventually, I decided to just get their attention and see what happened. "Comfortable, boys?" I asked snidely, leaning up against the door frame.

Jarod's head shot up, and Sydney's whipped around, so both could stare at me. "Come over, we saved you some food," Sydney said cheerfully, gesturing at the pizza box.

"Oh good, cold pizza," I replied disdainfully, wrinkling my nose. "You really shouldn't have."

"It's not quite cold yet, I'm sure," Sydney said. "It hasn't been here long."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." I glanced over at Jarod and noted that he was just staring at me like he was paralyzed. "What's your problem?" I snapped.

He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if clearing away the cobwebs. "Nothing," he replied at last. "It's just..." A sly smile crept across his face. "I didn't realize you could dress like a normal person."

I glared at him in annoyance. "Look who's talking," I challenged, gesturing to his all-black ensemble. "Do you dress that way because you're colorblind? And by the way, I don't know what you consider normal, but I've never been too interested in normal."

Jarod laughed, only adding to my growing irritation. "I didn't mean anything by it," he said, grinning. "Just come over and get some pizza, will you? You need to eat."

"What if I don't want to eat?" I argued, ignoring the impatient growl of my stomach.

"If you don't eat it now, it'll just get colder," he said rationally, "and then you really won't want it. Somehow you don't strike me as the cold pizza type."

"All I need is a drink," I growled. "Or a dozen."

He shook his head. "You have to eat. You make yourself sick by not eating."

"Since when are you and Sydney the food police?" I fumed, wishing myself back into the bathtub.

"We're just looking out for you. You should stop denying yourself everything. If you're hungry, eat. You deserve it."

"I deserve a lot more than lukewarm pizza," I muttered. "And I never asked anyone to look after me." I glanced pointedly at Sydney, and was only more annoyed to see that he was gazing at me with his patented expression of paternal affection and concern. Then I saw that Jarod had almost the exact same expression on his face.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," I cried, throwing up my hands. I crossed the room in a few long strides and threw open the pizza box, grabbing a slice. It was actually warmer than I had expected, and smelled good. I stuffed half the slice into my mouth at once. "Happy now?" I asked around a mouthful of pizza.

Jarod and Sydney stared at me, mouths open and eyes wide. I started laughing immediately, and had to cover my mouth to prevent myself from covering them with projectile pizza.

By the time I had swallowed, we were all laughing like old friends. I shifted the pizza box over to the radiator and, despite my reservations, sat down on the spare chair to join them. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I made myself comfortable and watched Jarod crucify Sydney at chess.

For a little while, I almost felt normal. And it actually didn't feel too bad.



* * * * *



"Checkmate."

I laughed as, once again, Jarod made short work of Sydney. It was pathetic, really, but Sydney was taking it well. I almost would have suspected him of letting Jarod win, just to keep him there, but I knew them both too well. First of all, Jarod was so good that it would have taken a severe lapse of judgment for Sydney to beat him, despite Sydney's formidable skill. Furthermore, if Sydney had been letting Jarod win, Jarod would have known it, and probably would have turned the tables and lost on purpose, just to make Sydney feel silly. And Sydney knew that.

It may sound absurd, but you learn a lot about someone by playing chess with them. From these two, for instance, I've learned that Jarod always wants to have the upper hand, but he likes to be subtle about it, while Sydney actually likes to see his own talent eclipsed. Of course, they both demonstrated these traits in the real world on a daily basis.

During my childhood, I had played often with both of them, and their techniques hadn't changed a bit. If they were any other two people, they would have been driving each other insane. But the funny thing was, they were having a great time.

"Why don't you give it a try, Miss Parker?" Sydney suggested after his fifth loss, scooting his chair back a little. "I'm afraid the student has surpassed the teacher here."

"I'm afraid that happened a long time ago," I remarked, taking a sip of soda. When I caught Jarod's surprised expression, I nearly choked. Nice, Parker, compliment the genius, his head isn't quite big enough yet.

"I believe you're right," Sydney agreed amiably. "In any case, I'd like to see how much of your chess lessons you have retained."

Sneaky. He wanted to see how Jarod and I would interact, and who would win. He'd probably analyze the whole thing to death later. Once a shrink, always a shrink.

"Yeah, come on," Jarod urged. "I'll go easy on you."

I smirked. "Don't do me any favors." I got to my feet and switched spots with Syd, watching passively as Jarod reset the chess board. I stared at the pieces, trying to remember everything I had learned, and all that I had seen that evening. Despite my many years away from the game, it was all coming back to me quickly.

"Ladies first," Jarod spoke up, gesturing at the board. He'd given me the white pieces and himself the black. I imagine that was supposed to be a joke.

"I don't think so," I protested. "I know that trick. You go first."

"I thought you liked to go first," he teased.

I shook my head, amazed. He was referring to our first game of Monopoly together, when I had pulled rank on him. But I knew better than to take his bait; he had a way of killing his opponent in chess when they went first. I'd learned that lesson back when I was twelve years old. I still don't fully understand how he does that. "Not this time. Go ahead, make your move."

"Whatever you say." He flashed me a quick grin and looked down at the board, considering.

Jarod's cell phone chose that moment to ring. Jarod and I stared at each other for a moment as the shrill sound echoed in the small room. We both knew there was only one person it could be.

"I'll go get it," Sydney said quickly, jumping up and crossing the room to retrieve the phone from my bedside table.

"Isn't it a bit early?" Jarod asked in a soft voice, his jaw tightening.

I looked at my watch, and when I noted that it wasn't even 8:00, I felt a stab of panic. She wouldn't be going to bed yet, would she? "Give that to me!" I snapped, jumping up and grabbing the ringing phone from Sydney's hand. I flipped it open nervously. "Angel?" I couldn't help demanding.

"M-Miss Par-Parker, help, it's, it's Daddy..." Angel's trembling voice said thinly.

My heart nearly stopped. "Angel, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Jarod was at my side in a moment, pressing his ear up close to mine, and I shifted the phone slightly so that he could hear better.

"He-he found out," Angel murmured. "He's really... he's c-coming back... Help..."

"We're on our way," I said firmly, nearly ready to explode with anger. "Hang on, we'll be right there." But the buzzing on the other end told me that she had hung up the phone. Or someone had.

"Dammit!" I cried, tossing the phone on the floor. It bounced harmlessly and rolled over. "Come on, we're going." I ran to my suitcase and shoved on a pair of boots --you never know when you might need some sturdy boots-- then picked up my car keys. I barely noticed as I ran outside to my car that Jarod had picked up the phone and was calling the police. In fact, I barely waited for Jarod to get in the car with me before I took off. Sydney was just too slow; he got left behind.

As I sped down the street, heedless of the other cars I passed and approached, I vaguely noticed the gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off and his the gas a little harder. Angel had to be okay. She had to.

"Careful, Parker," Jarod was saying. "Slow down."

In retrospect, I guess I feel a little bad for him. I must have completely scared the living daylights out of him. I was probably lucky that it was nighttime and there weren't a lot of cars on the road, because it would have been really easy to get into an accident the way I was driving. And then Angel would really be in trouble.

But at the time, all I could think about was that I had to get to her. I just kept seeing my father advancing upon me with a grim look of determination on his face, and hearing my own screams. I wanted to kill him, but I'd settle for killing Beckett McCann.

Mercifully, the drive was short, and we were there in a matter of moments. I sped into the circular driveway and slammed on the brakes, throwing us both forward in our seats. Then I simply shut off the engine and leapt out of the car, leaving the keys behind, and Jarod in my dust.

When I reached the front door, I didn't bother to knock; I just threw open the unlocked door and let myself in. Immediately, I heard a muffled cry and a masculine yell, and I ran up the stairs in the direction of the noise.

Due to the noise, I found them quickly, in what was obviously Angel's room. Somewhere on the edges of my mind, I noticed the huge white teddy bear, the shelves full of dolls, and the framed photos on the wall, but they weren't important. All I could really focus on was the little girl in the corner, being kicked mercilessly by a man three times her size.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I screamed as I burst in the door. I reached for my gun, but realized to my frustration that I didn't have it. No matter-- shooting was too good for this man, anyway.

At the sound of my voice, Beckett McCann stopped kicking his daughter and whirled around to face me. "You!" he bellowed, recognizing me instantly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I should probably ask you the same thing," I growled. I jabbed one finger in the direction of Angel. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to pick on people your own size?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that?" he challenged, advancing on me now.

I watched as he approached, grinning evilly as I noticed the size advantage he had on me. This would be easy. "No, no one ever did." I ducked as he threw a poorly aimed punch at me and then grabbed his arm. I yanked until I heard something pop, and as he screamed from the pain, I threw him to the ground. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. That's what I was taught.

The next few minutes are a haze, and it's probably best that way. All I know for sure is that I pummeled the man for several minutes, screaming obscenities at him in a blind rage. I kept seeing my father's face, and that only made me hit harder.

"I hate you!" I know I screamed at one point, and had continued screaming until I heard Jarod's voice.

"Miss Parker!" he said loudly. "Stop, please!"

I smashed my fist once more into McCann's face before I paused. I found myself straddling the unconscious man, and my hands were covered with his blood. Bruises were already forming on his face, and his nose was bent at an odd angle. I had crushed him.

Slowly, I raised my eyes and met Jarod's stare. He was in the corner of the room, cradling a white bundle in his arms and sitting very still. His cheeks were stained with dark streaks of moisture.

"Is she...?" I dared to ask.

"She's alive," Jarod said, his voice softer. "Cracked ribs, broken wrist, orbital fracture..." He shook his head. "I'm worried about internal bleeding, and her breathing isn't great, so I'm afraid she may have a collapsed lung. It's..." He closed his eyes. "The police and paramedics should be here any minute."

I stared blankly at him as he dropped his head and continued to cry silently over the little girl. I wanted to cry, too, but for some reason, I just couldn't. I just watched, feeling strangely detached, and stayed right where I was.

"I shouldn't have picked her up," Jarod muttered softly, almost to himself. "I could have hurt her worse... But I just couldn't help it..."

I nodded vaguely, thinking of my own actions. I understood.

Before I could form any kind of response, emergency personnel rushed into the room only minutes later, swarming around Jarod and Angel. One grabbed my hand and pulled me from McCann, and another team gathered around him.

"He's not worth it," I muttered, resisting the urge to kick him, like I had seen him to do Angel.

I heard Jarod murmur something about shock, and a moment later, someone put an arm around me and gently guided me out of the room and down the stairs. As I was bundled into the back of a police car, I closed my eyes and tried to feel guilty for what I had done, and what I had said, but I couldn't. I was only sorry that my father hadn't been there to share the brunt of my wrath.



* * * * *



After some waiting, a little questioning, and a lot more waiting, I was finally set free. From the look on Officer Denniger's face, Jarod had something to do with my release. The cops clearly wanted to keep me, and I guess I can't blame them. I did go a little crazy.

"Here are your personal effects, Miss Parker."

"Yeah, thanks," I grumbled, snatching my watch and my silver ring and putting them on. I think the guy continued to talk to me, but I ignored him and walked past, letting myself out the door into the cool night.

"Miss Parker." Jarod sounded relieved. "Are you alright?"

I shrugged at him. "Thanks for getting me released and for paying my bail," I said flatly. "I'm going home now." I brushed past him, intending to walk back to the god-forsaken Golden Age Motel. I guess now I understand that I was in shock, as Jarod had said, but at the time, all I knew was that I was in a wretched mood.

"Wait," he begged, grabbing my arm.

I turned and met his gaze. "Get. Off. My. Arm."

He sighed. "Please, I know what this must be doing to you, but I also know you can't shut everyone--"

"You don't know anything about me, Jarod," I replied. "I want you to leave me alone now, so I can pick up the pieces of my shattered life. You owe me at least that."

"I owe you the same thing you owe me," he countered gently. "Friendship. That's all I've ever wanted to give you."

"Well, I'm not interested," I growled. "Now, get off me."

Reluctantly, he released his hold on me and dropped his hand down at his side. "Don't you even want to hear about Angel?" he murmured.

I stiffened, unsure. I wanted to walk away and forget any of this ever happened, but I couldn't move my feet. But I couldn't speak, either.

"She's going to be okay," he said at last. "She has some recovering to do, but she's okay."

The breath I had been holding whooshed out of my nose, and I felt a strong sense of relief. Still, I knew the horror wasn't even close to being over. "She's never going to be okay," I said in a low voice. "Never." I paused, considering his compassionate expression. "But I'm glad she's alive."

"She's not going back to her father," he added. "I'm not sure yet if he'll go to jail or get help, the way Angel wanted, but I do know there's no way he's getting her back. Sydney's going to help find her a home."

I nodded. "Good, Sydney will do a good job," I said without emotion. "I'm tired, Jarod, I need to go to sleep."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

His shoulders sagged. "Let me drive you," he pleaded.

I shrugged, too tired to fight anymore. "Fine. Let's go." I ignored his sigh of relief and followed him to my car. I climbed into the back seat and shut the door before curling up comfortably. Within seconds, I was asleep.



* * * * *



"Why were you down there? What were you doing?"

Miss Parker cowered against the wall, shivering. "I-I was just visiting Jarod," she said meekly. "We weren't doing anything bad."

"I thought I told you to stay away from him," Mr. Parker said coldly. "Why do you continually insist upon disobeying me?"

"I was bored... I... He's my friend, Daddy."

"He's not your friend!" he bellowed, raising his hand. "He's nobody's friend. He's a monster!"

"He never did anything to anyone," she argued. "He's always good to me. I can trust him."

"Angel, if there's anyone here you can't trust, it's Jarod. He was trained to be a liar, it's what he does." He lowered his hand without touching her and frowned deeply. "I'm afraid he's using you."

"For what? He never asks me for anything!"

"But you do things for him anyway, don't you?" he prodded. "You bring him things, you teach him things... Things about the Centre, especially. If you're not careful, you could teach him how to escape from here. Is that what you want?"

"No, but Daddy--"

"Don't Daddy me, Angel, you know I'm right. I've discussed this with Sydney, and he agrees. You are to stay away from Jarod, from now on. Do you understand?"

"I don't want to stay away from him!" Miss Parker shouted boldly. "He's my friend. You can't keep me away from him, it's not fair!"

Immediately, his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He gave it a yank, pulling her forward, eliciting a pained squeal. "Don't defy me!" Mr. Parker exploded.

"Daddy!" she begged, starting to cry. "You're hurting me..."

He tossed her back toward the wall, where she bumped her head on the edge of a picture frame. "You shouldn't make me do this," he said, shaking his head. "If you would only listen to me, I could take care of you. But you do these reckless things..."

"I don't mean to--"

"Stay away from him, Angel," he interrupted firmly. "Or we'll both be very sorry."

She wiped at her cheeks with one hand. "Daddy, he's my only friend," she whimpered. "I love him."

Mr. Parker's eyes glittered dangerously, and he took another step closer to her. "I can guarantee he doesn't love you back," he told her. "He's incapable of love."

"He's not," she insisted weakly. "He's the nicest--"

"He doesn't love you!" Mr. Parker thundered, grabbing both of her shoulders and pinning her against the wall. "He doesn't love you, Angel, and he never will. No one can love you like I do."



"Miss Parker? It's okay, don't be afraid."

I awoke that morning to the sound of Sydney's voice, and the feeling of a cool washcloth on my forehead. I realized I was shuddering from the effects of my dream, and my heart was pounding desperately in my chest. "What-what time is it?" I asked weakly, noting that it was still mostly dark in the motel room.

"It's not quite 5 AM," Sydney replied gently, smiling down at me. "I'm supposed to go to work today, to help with Angel's case, but I could stay here with you..."

I shook my head firmly, despite the pain it caused. "No, you need to go," I told him. I looked briefly around the dim room for a moment. "Where's Jarod?" I asked.

"I don't know. He only said he had to take care of some things." He paused. "Do you want him to come here later?"

"No," I replied. It was a lie; I did want to see him, desperately. I knew he could calm me down, could make everything better. And yet, I was unwilling to accept his help. I didn't want him to see my weakness; I didn't want him to see that I needed him.

"Well, what do you want to do?" Sydney asked, turning the washcloth over to the other side and pressing it gently to my head.

"I want to stay here and rest," I said. "I'll maybe go out later." At his dubious expression, I forced a smile. "I'll be fine, Syd. Really."

"You didn't seem fine a minute ago."

I sighed. "It was a nightmare. It's over now."

"But--"

"Syd, thanks for caring," I interrupted. "I mean it. But I want you to leave me alone now, okay? And I don't need Jarod, either. I'll be fine."

He frowned deeply. "I'm staying until it's time to leave for work," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Fine," I agreed reluctantly, closing my eyes. "Goodnight, Sydney."

"Goodnight." I felt his lips gently brush my cheek, and I listened to his even breathing until I fell asleep again.



* * * * *



For days, I just stayed in that dingy motel room. Sydney stopped by several times each day to make sure I was eating, sleeping, breathing, but other than that, I had no contact with the outside world. He told me that he and Jarod were working together to find Angel a new family, and they were doing well. So was Angel, apparently. Everything was great.

But I was frozen in a constant nightmare that I couldn't escape from. Every time I slept, I saw my father, I felt his rough hands on me, I heard my own screams. Sometimes I also dreamt of Angel, of her father, and even of Jarod. The dreams always ended with me waking up in a cold sweat, panting and holding a trembling hand over my chest.

I had asked Sydney once or twice to bring me some vodka, but he had vehemently opposed. He brought me fruit juice instead, and various other healthy items. Eventually, the craving got to be too much, and I actually got out of bed, threw on some rumpled clothes, and drove myself to a liquor store. There, I bought enough alcohol to kill a cow, and then I went back to bed, intending to drink it all.

After that, I spent my waking hours staring blankly at the TV as I drank, wondering idly where Jarod was. I was honestly surprised that he hadn't come to see me, the way he always got involved in my business and tried to help me. I suppose he talked to Sydney about me, but Sydney never spoke of him, except to mention him occasionally when he discussed Angel's situation.

The truth was, I missed him. I knew that together, we had helped a little girl escape a horrible life. We were very nearly too late, but we had made it in time, and that was all that counted. And sure, Angel was going to carry the scars, physical and emotional, for the rest of her life, but at least she had gotten away at a young age. And at least she knew that she had tried to do something; she had gone for help.

I, however, had no such consolation. I had allowed myself to suffer needlessly. I had listened to my father's lies, I had trusted him, and I had spent my entire life trying to please him. I was so much weaker than anyone I had ever known. Even Broots knew to get away from an unhappy family situation.

I had never hated myself more than I did that week.

Sydney noticed my mental and emotional decline, and attempted to take me to a doctor, but of course I refused. I also fought him when he tried to take away my liquor, and when he had wanted to call Jarod. I had insisted that I was simply taking a vacation, that I was fine, and that I didn't need any help. I filled the silences between us with my usual sharp candor, doing my best to pretend everything was normal.

It was unfair of me, I guess, to let him stand by and watch me fall apart without letting him do a thing, but I just didn't know how to accept his help just yet.

The only thing that was going to help was talking about what had happened-- to me, and to Angel-- and to decide where the hell my life was going to go from there. But I wasn't ready to do that. I wasn't ready to move on.

I knew this escape from reality would have to end sometime, however, and that occurred on the night Sydney came to tell me that Angel's new foster home was all set up. It had all been done in a remarkably short time, due to Jarod and Sydney's involvement, and it seemed to be the best thing for everybody. Angel had met with her new foster parents-- a couple that Jarod seemed to trust implicitly-- and she was actually excited to try living with them.

Beckett McCann, of course, was still slated for a trial and a slew of psychological tests, but I had a funny feeling that Jarod would involve himself in the process and insure that he wouldn't go free or that he wouldn't be taken away from Angel forever. I didn't ask, and Sydney didn't mention it, but I wasn't worried that Angel's father would be able to hurt her again. Physically, at least. And both of them would have some time to heal before spending time together again.

The situation would be monitored very closely, of course, but Sydney was confident that everything had worked out perfectly. He was especially pleased with the foster care situation, and seemed to credit Jarod with the speed and the quality of the solution.

"That's great," I told him sincerely, putting down the bottle I was holding and smiling a bit. I really was happy for her; she deserved a better life. I knew that it would be scary for her to adapt to a whole new home, and that I probably wouldn't have had the guts to go through that when I was a child, but Angel was strong. She could do this.

Sydney nodded. "My job is done now," he said, "but it will be a shame to leave. It's been wonderful to interact with children again."

"Without electrodes stuck to their heads?" I asked snidely.

He looked pained. "Anyway," he said slowly, "I think Jarod plans to stay around awhile to follow up. So I was wondering, uh... What now?"

I groaned inwardly. This was it. "Now it's time to go home," I told him, as if it were obvious. "Delaware or bust."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked cautiously.

I shot him a withering look. "What's my alternative, stay here?" I challenged. "Or better yet, check myself into a psychiatric hospital? I don't think so, Syd. Life goes on."

He looked pained at my words, and I don't blame him. That was what my father had said about my mother's apparent "suicide" so many years ago. But it was true, after all, wasn't it?

"You don't want to go back now, do you?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," I replied instantly. "I want one more night of my vacation. It's been good for me."

He eyed me skeptically. "I don't know if I'd say--"

"Save it, Syd," I snapped, picking up the bottle again, and grabbing the TV remote with the other hand. "Now, if you don't mind, I want a few more hours of peace and quiet before we go back to work."

"Are you sure you want to be alone?"

I glared at him warningly. "Yes, I am sure," I said clearly. "Go. Please."

"Do you want to visit Angel in the hospital before we go?"

My annoyance faded a tiny bit. "Maybe tomorrow," I said.

He nodded. "Goodnight, Miss Parker," he said gently. "Get some sleep."

Easier said than done. "Thanks, you too." I flashed a fake smile at him then turned away, considering him dismissed. Thankfully, he didn't try to say anything else, he just excused himself from the room quietly.

When I was alone again, I slumped down wearily and closed my eyes. I fell asleep with a bottle in my hand.



* * * * *



"Come on, Jarod, hurry up. We're almost there."

"I don't know where we are," Jarod complained fretfully from behind her. "If I get lost, Sydney will be so mad at me."

Miss Parker paused impatiently, sitting back on her heels. "We're not lost," she insisted, her raised voice echoing slightly in the ventilation ducts. "Angelo showed me the way."

"I know, but what if you made a wrong turn or someth¬" Jarod stopped abruptly at the sound of Miss Parker's annoyed sigh. "Well, I'm just saying...." He finally reached her and sat back, mimicking her position.

"You don't trust me at all, do you?" she demanded.

"Of course I do!" He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed it tightly in an obvious attempt to hide the fact that it was shaking. "I'm just..."

"Scared?" she suggested wickedly.

He jerked his hand away. "No," he said sulkily.

She grinned. "You are. You're scared, you wimp!"

"I"m not scared," Jarod insisted weakly, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm just... cautious..."

She laughed. "Whatever, genius. Then I guess you won't be scared of this."

"What?" he asked, looking around.

"This!" Miss Parker whirled around, still on her knees and lunged at Jarod. She let out a loud yell and curled her hands menacingly, pretending to attack him.

Jarod gasped and fell back, clutching his chest. "Don't do that!" he panted. "Someone could hear you."

Miss Parker broke out in a fit of giggles, watching as he tried to pretend she hadn't scared him. "You are such a wimp," she teased. She was thrilled that, as usual, she had the upper hand on him.

"Oh yeah?" Jarod challenged, sitting up. "Well, would a wimp do this?" He pounced on her, knocking her down, and began tickling her mercilessly as he often did when she teased him.

"Jarod, stop!" She shrieked with laughter, trying to get away.

"No way," he said firmly from his position atop her. "I'm going to make you pay for scaring me like that."

Even though she knew he was just kidding, the mildly threatening tone in Jarod's voice scared her, and her giggles began to subside. "Get off me," she ordered, stiffening.

Jarod kept her firmly pinned down, his knees beginning to dig slightly into her sides. "Sorry, I can't do that," he teased, feeling along the side of her neck for another ticklish spot.

"No, stop," she said shakily, trying to push him away. "Stop, please!"

Jarod paused and looked down at her face. "What's wrong?" he asked in confusion.

"Please, don't..." Miss Parker squeezed her eyes shut and began to hum loudly to herself.

"Miss Parker?" He climbed gingerly off her. "What? Did I hurt you?" he asked in concern. "I was just goofing around.... Miss Parker?"

Feeling his weight lift from her body, she slid away and sat up, hugging herself tightly as she rocked back and forth. She did this for a long moment, before she felt Jarod's gentle hand on her knee. She looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time, and met his concerned gaze.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, sounding deeply remorseful.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. Let's go, we're wasting time." She pushed Jarod's hand away and turned to go.

"Miss Parker, wait."

"What?" she asked impatiently, refusing to look at him.

"What just happened there?" he demanded fearfully. "You know I wasn't going to..." He trailed off. "What did I..."

"Nothing, Jarod, now shut up, you're starting to piss me off." She began to crawl away, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. "Come on, Angelo's waiting."

After a couple more minutes of silent traveling, Miss Parker reached an opening in the ducts. She slid down and into a small gray room filled with old computer equipment. Hunched in one corner was a small blonde boy.

"Sorry we're late, Angelo," Miss Parker said to him, straightening her skirt and moving aside to let Jarod drop into the room with them. "Now you gotta show us what's so special about this place."

Angelo's pale blue eyes lit up joyfully and he got to his feet. He grabbed Miss Parker's hand and was about to pull her with him, when suddenly he let out a loud gasp and squeezed her hand tighter.

"What's wrong, Angelo?" Jarod asked, obviously still shaken.

"Miss Parker has pain," Angelo said sadly. "Miss Parker hurt... scared..."

"I'm fine," she insisted angrily, pulling her hand back.

Angelo shook his head. "Someone hurt Miss Parker," he insisted gravely.

"Who?" Jarod asked. "Was it me? Miss Parker, if I hurt you at all, I'm so--"

"I am FINE!" she said sharply, gritting her teeth. "And you two are just being really annoying today."

"But what¬"

"Forget it!" she barked. "Just forget it, alright?"

"Forget what?"

Miss Parker sighed heavily. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." she turned her back on the boys and hoisted herself back into the vent. "I'm not in the mood for this crap today," she grumbled.

"No wait, stay!" Jarod begged. "Please, talk to me."

"Angelo will show you the way back," she said coldly. Then she crawled away as quickly as she could, planning to be long gone before she started to cry. Still, even as she turned a corner, Jarod's panicked voice followed persistently.

"Miss Parker!" he yelled. "Let me help you!"



I awoke with a start, my heart thudding painfully in my chest as the dream caught up with me. Once again, my subconscious mind had retrieved a memory that I had stubbornly repressed, and I wasn't prepared to negotiate the complex emotions that accompanied the memory.

Instead, I put aside the bottle I still clutched and ran to the bathroom, where I retched painfully. It was partly from the alcohol, I suppose, but it was more because of my memories. My own guilt and disgust.

After I rinsed out my mouth and washed my face, I padded back out to the bedroom and crawled back under the covers. I knew I'd never be able to sleep again that night, but I knew it was time to come to terms with what had happened. In a day, I'd be back at the Centre, burying my emotions, doing my father's bidding. It was now or never.

So, as I lay awake in the darkness, I allowed myself to remember what had led up to that strange encounter with Jarod I had just dreamed about. In the weeks previous, my father's ongoing but relatively mild abuse had reached new heights. He hadn't wanted to leave obvious marks on my body, since that would show the world what kind of man he was, but he still believed his daughter needed strict discipline. He also, I suspected, believed me to be his property, and therefore eligible to be used for any purpose he desired.

Thinking back on it that night, I realized that my father was a sick man. The things he had done to his own child were unthinkable, and I couldn't fathom any possible excuse for his behavior. At the time, I had forced myself to be brave and keep it all a secret, to protect my pride, my reputation, and my very life, but there were times when fear had clamped around my neck and threatened to squeeze the breath out of me.

That day in the air ducts with Jarod had been one of those times. When he had held me down, looming over me, with his body heavy and warm on mine, I had panicked. Somewhere inside, I guess I had realized that Jarod was only playing his part in our usual game, and that he was far too innocent and caring to hurt me, but my fear had taken over. All I could think was that I was in danger, like I was with my father, and that I didn't want to be used like that anymore. Then, when I had come back to reality and realized the weakness I had displayed, I was embarrassed and angry.

Eventually, as I grew up and became immersed in my own life, the abuse had miraculously stopped. Or so I had believed. Instead of physical abuse, Daddy began to warp my mind. He taught me to trust only him, despite what he had done to me, and to put on a cold, hard face for the world. I suddenly wondered how it was possible for me to be so easily manipulated like that.

My only answer was that Mom's death had left me weak and desperate, and willing to trust Daddy despite everything. But it wasn't really a satisfactory excuse, at least not to me.

Once again deeply disgusted with myself, but now for my unerring trust in my monster of a father, I sat up in bed and reached for the half-filled bottle of liquor beside me. I had taken a few large swigs directly from the bottle when Jarod's cell phone rang. I knew instinctively who it was, and even though instinct told me to ignore him, I knew it was time. I did wonder, however, how he knew it was time.

Wearily, I traded the bottle for the phone, closing my eyes as the alcohol began to drift toward my head. "If you're calling for my morning wakeup, you're too late," I muttered dryly. "I'm already up."

"Miss Parker," Jarod said in a quiet, grave voice. "Are you alright?"

"Was I ever alright?" I challenged.

He sighed. "Sydney told me you want to go back to the Centre tomorrow. He... He said you weren't handling things very well..." He trailed off, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"Sydney's a shrink. He doesn't think it's possible for anyone to sneeze without having to deal with suppressed issues and emotional backlash." I reached over with my free hand and reclaimed the bottle. After I had taken another long, satisfying gulp, I spoke again. "Sometimes snot is just snot."

There was a long pause as Jarod tried to choose his words. When they eventually came, they sounded tentative, reminding me of the thoughtful young boy he had been once. "Sometimes it helps to talk to someone," he ventured. "Someone who might not see you every day, you know?"

"So are you saying I should get a different shrink, and tell him all about my twisted past and my even more twisted present?

"I think you know what I'm saying."

I sighed, torn between pouring my heart out to him and screaming at him. I wasn't ready for all this pain that had suddenly come rushing back at once. I had suppressed it for a reason; I had suppressed it to survive. My first instinct was to lash out at Jarod for the pain, because he was the one who made me remember. But I knew in my heart that blaming him would just be playing along with my father's twisted little game.

"What do you want from me, Jarod?" I asked wearily.

"It's not what I want from you," he replied. "It's what I want for you."

"Do I get a hint? Or am I supposed to guess?"

"Parker, I just want¬" He paused again, and the sound of his distressed breathing was heavy on the line. "I want you to be happy. I want you to be yourself, your true self, and I want..."

"What?" I prodded curiously, putting down the bottle and sitting up a little straighter.

"To help you," Jarod finished lamely.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, remembering how the young Jarod had also tried so hard to help me. I hadn't let him in then, afraid of how he'd react, and afraid of how it would change our friendship, but I had wanted to. After suffering my father's abuses, I had often lain awake in the dark, wishing that my mother and Jarod, the two people I had always felt comfortable with, could somehow help me.

That night, I wished for the same thing. I just didn't know how to admit it.

"Please let me help you," Jarod spoke up, his voice a husky whisper.

A slow tear rolled unchecked down my cheek. "How?" I whispered back. "How can anybody help me now?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But if you open your door, I... I can try." With that last appeal, he disconnected the call, leaving me momentarily paralyzed with fear.

At last, as if in slow motion, I put the cell phone down on my bedside table and slipped my legs out from beneath the sheets. I crept slowly to the door and stared at it for a long moment before unhooking the lock and reaching for the doorknob. As I eased the door open, I knew exactly what I would see, but I was apprehensive anyway.

Standing outside my door, bathed in unnatural fluorescent light from the fixture above my door, stood Jarod. I was surprised to see that he looked worse than I felt. His hair stood on end, his cheeks and chin were dusted with a five o'clock shadow, and his eyes drooped wearily. Yet a small smile graced his lips as he reached for me.

Before I could even think, I felt myself being embraced by warm, strong arms, and I leaned gratefully against his chest. This was nothing like the hug my father had graced me with just before my departure from Blue Cove. This was real, meaningful. He needed this as much as I did. I felt slightly fortified by his support, but at the same time, I knew that he was drawing strength from me, as well. I was mystified by that; I didn't think I had any strength to offer.

"I'm glad you opened the door," he whispered into my hair, his breath warm and vaguely sweet as it drifted back toward my face.

I exhaled softly and forced myself to pull away before I got too comfortable. "So what now, Jarod?" I asked softly, looking into the eyes of the man who had once been my best friend and then my mortal enemy. They glowed with latent hope.

"You make the rules," he whispered, holding his hands out helplessly, his empty palms facing upward.

"This isn't a game," I replied.

He nodded. "I know."

"I'm surprised you didn't come sooner," I commented softly.

He dropped his eyes quickly. "I was afraid," he admitted.

"Afraid of what? Me?"

"No. Not you."

Despite myself, I indulged in a small smile. "You're supposed to be afraid of me," I told him. "My job is based on your fear of me."

He looked up and met my eyes, so I could see the faint twinkle in his. "I pretend to be afraid of you," he replied.

I wanted to laugh, but I just didn't have it in me. Instead, I simply nodded and returned to the original topic. "Well, if you weren't afraid of me, what were you afraid of?"

"Just afraid you wouldn't want me around, that I'd make you feel worse. And afraid of..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What?" I pressed curiously.

He frowned. "Afraid of..." He haltingly raised a hand and used it to brush my hair back from my face. Then he dropped his hand suddenly as if it had been burned. "Doing the wrong thing," he finished at last, sounding ashamed of himself. It must have been an unusual situation indeed, if Jarod lacked confidence in his own judgment.

I stared at him for a long moment and then turned to walk into my room. I knew instinctively that he would follow me inside, and I also knew that I wanted him to. As I heard the sound of my door closing, I walked to the bottle of alcohol and picked it up.

"You know that's not the answer," Jarod reminded me gently.

"No, but sometimes answers are harder." I took another gulp, satisfied as numbness began to overcome me, but disgusted by the taste, before I put the bottle down again.

"Do you want to talk?" Jarod asked.

I sighed softly. I didn't want to talk, not really. I wanted someone to hold me and keep me safe and tell me that everything would be okay. But a part of me still believed that such things were childish and weak. Besides, there was one thing I did want to get off my chest first.

"When I told Angel about my father, I didn't tell her everything," I said, my back still to him. "Did you know there was more to the story?"

"Yes."

Shocked, I whirled around and glared at him. "What?"

"Well, I didn't know for sure," he amended. "I just knew that you didn't want to scare Angel too much, so you were being careful. Plus, I knew the abuse got worse, much worse, than you told her."

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice trembling. I don't know why I was surprised; Jarod knew everything.

"You changed," he told me. "Back then, I mean. You suddenly didn't want anyone to touch you, and you never wanted to talk about anything personal anymore." He paused, looking as if he had more to say.

"What?" I prodded.

"Do you remember the day we went looking for Angelo's secret room?" he asked. "How we were crawling through the--"

"I remember," I interrupted, unnerved by the fact that he was bringing up an incident that I had just dreamed about only moments before.

Jarod nodded slowly, holding my gaze. "I had no idea why you reacted that way," he said. "I was so confused, and I was scared that I had hurt you. For days, it was all I could think about, especially since you didn't come to see me that week. Then I did a little simulation..." He hesitated. "I wondered if maybe... Did your father..."

I broke eye contact abruptly, turning away again. "Yes," I whispered.

"Why? Why would he...?"

"Control," I spat. "His own demented amusement. Who the hell knows? Who the hell cares?" I wrapped my arms protectively around myself, suddenly feeling cold. "What I wonder is what made him stop."

"It does seem unusual," Jarod agreed. "But who knows what drives someone so..." He stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you can say it," I said, blinking back tears. "What drives someone so twisted and evil to do anything?" I shook my head. "I don't think I really want to know."

"Why didn't you talk to someone?" Jarod asked softly. "Were you afraid that--"

"There was nothing anyone could do," I interrupted hotly. "I was just as trapped as you were. I wasn't in a cell, but my prison had to be at least as bad as yours."

"I believe you. I'm sorry."

My shoulders sagged and I felt the anger recede again. "I should have told you. I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. I didn't know what you'd think..."

"I would never have judged you for your father's abuse," Jarod said incredulously. "How could you ever believe I would do something like that?"

"I don't know if you noticed or not, but I wasn't exactly raised to trust people," I replied. "And you and Angelo were all I had. I didn't want to do anything that would change what we had."

"But you did," he whispered. "You left."

I brushed absently at the tears on my cheek. "My father told me things about you... He told me that you couldn't be trusted, that you--"

"Lies," Jarod interrupted fiercely. "He filled your head with lies." He paused. "You were everything to me. Please tell me you understand that now."

"I understand," I said reluctantly. Still, I felt a tingling warmth slide comfortingly through me, and I was vaguely pleased at the change. I wasn't sure if it was caused by his words or the alcohol, but I decided it was probably a bit of both.

He cleared his throat nervously. "You've been through a lot," he murmured. "Your whole life has been such a struggle... It's not fair... You didn't do anything wrong."

I wasn't sure if that last part was really true, but it felt good to hear it, so I let it go. "Well, it's not like your life has been a picnic," I pointed out.

"No. I guess not."

I sighed. "Look, it's not important anymore," I told him. "What happened with me and my father... It's over. I don't want to think about it anymore."

"You can't just forget about it," he argued. "Until you really deal with it, confront him, get away from there, you'll just--"

"What do you want me to say?" I challenged angrily. "Do you want me to tell you that I want to kill him? Do you want me to say I hope his Angel is the last thing he sees before he bleeds to death?"

"Yes," he whispered, "if that's what you feel."

I exhaled heavily. "I don't know what I feel. That night, with McCann... I could have killed him, Jarod."

"I know," he replied softly. "You came close. He hit his head pretty hard when you took him down. And the dislocated shoulder..." He trailed off.

I closed my eyes. That wasn't really what I needed to hear.

"But you didn't," he went on. "You heard my voice, and you stopped before you could do anything worse. And he's okay."

"What happens next time, when you aren't there to stop me?" I wondered aloud. "Or to call the police and the paramedics for me?"

"Don't make yourself out to be the evil one here," he said firmly. "You aren't the one who abused helpless children."

"What about you?"

There was a long pause. "What?" he asked at last.

I turned to look at him, cringing painfully at the expectant look on his face. "I helped them hurt you," I admitted. "For so many years, I followed blindly, I--"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted.

"It does matter. It does, Jarod. Don't you see?"

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

"I became my father," I whispered, finally voicing my greatest fear. "Just like you've always said..."

"No!" he said urgently, shaking his head harder. "I never said that. I said you try to be like your father. That's true. But you'll never be him. You aren't capable of the things he's done."

"How do you know?"

He touched his hand briefly to his heart. "I know you," he said. "You were used and you were manipulated and hurt, but it's not your fault." When I attempted to protest, he raised a hand to silence me. "It's not," he insisted. "You're the victim here. And you can't let him win."

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked weakly, not quite daring to hope that he was right.

"You have to be yourself," he said slowly. "That's not easy-- trust me, I know-- but you have to find what you really care about, and what's really important to you. And you have to protect that, whatever it is, with your life. And you can't let your father run your life anymore."

"I don't know how to stop him," I admitted softly.

"You'll figure it out," he said confidently, smiling a bit. "You're so much smarter and stronger than you think you are. You can do this. And if you ever need my help, or Sydney's, or Broots'..."

"And what if I do all this to become my own person, and find out that I'm still a worthless coward?" I asked. "What if I find out that I really am my father?"

"You won't," he promised. "But you won't believe me until you find that out for yourself."

I sighed as my head began to swim with confusion. Yet I actually was feeling a bit better. "Jarod, I don't really want to talk anymore," I said wearily, swaying as the alcohol-- definitely the alcohol this time-- affected my balance.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

I shot out one hand and grabbed the edge of a table to steady myself, and once I had regained my balance, I considered his question. I discovered that I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. All I knew was that I couldn't keep thinking about my father that night, I was driving myself insane. Somehow, I just had to find some peace, at least for a little while. And for once, I felt it was within reach.

"Sleep," I replied finally, yawning. "For a hundred years." I stumbled toward the bed and slipped between the sheets, waiting. After a long moment of silence, I looked up into the darkness and eyed Jarod's still form. "Well are you coming?"

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly.

He was surprised, that much was clear. Actually, I was pretty surprised myself, but not necessarily in a bad way. I had finally found a tiny sliver of comfort with Jarod, with my life, and I just wanted to hang onto it a bit longer. "We could both use a little sleep," I replied simply.

"Okay."

I closed my eyes, feeling strangely relieved, and waited for Jarod. After a moment, he slid under the covers beside me, and I snuggled against him. He was a bit too warm and a bit too rigid, but he relaxed quickly. It almost reminded me of the few times we had fallen asleep in each others' arms back when we were children, except for the glaringly obvious changes in our bodies, and the increased burden of our shared emotional baggage.

"Jarod, where do we go from here?" I asked sleepily, smiling in contentment as his hand slid up and down my back in a tentative attempt at comfort.

"We could go anywhere you wanted to go," he replied. "Seattle is a personal favorite of mine. Far away from Delaware."

I laughed. "You know that's not what I mean. I'm serious."

"So am I. Come with me, Parker. Get away from that place, from him. We can both disappear forever. I can help you start over, if you'll only let me."

For a long, delicious moment, I was tempted. But I knew I couldn't do it, not yet. "I still have questions," I said reluctantly. "About my family, about the farce I call my life. The answers can only be found in one place."

"Do you need those answers to survive?" he asked.

"Do you need yours?"

"Hm." He chuckled softly. "Okay, that's fair."

"I have to go back," I said unnecessarily. "And I have to keep chasing you, at least until I find my answers."

"And I have to run away from you," he added sadly. "It's the only way to protect you."

I breathed in his scent and committed it to memory. "You can run tomorrow," I told him dreamily.

"Isn't there another way?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"You're the genius, you tell me."

He sighed. "This isn't over, you know. This whole thing is going to keep hitting you hard every now and then, and when that happens... I mean... Whenever you need me, Parker--"

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted. "Thanks."

"And someday--"

"Someday it'll all be different," I agreed. "My life may never be normal, but when I have my answers, things will change."

"And maybe then we can disappear," Jarod replied.

I smiled. "Let's worry about that later," I suggested.

"Right now it's just business as usual, huh?"

"No, tomorrow is business as usual," I corrected. "Tonight... tonight we sleep."

He let out a long breath. "You make the rules," he whispered, holding me a little tighter.

"You're damn right I do. And if you rub this in my face..."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I laughed softly and settled my head against his shoulder, feeling more at peace than I could ever remember feeling. This was much better than when we were children. We weren't at the Centre, for one thing.

"Miss Parker?"

"Hmm?"

He gave my shoulder a slight squeeze. "I've never been real interested in normal, either," he told me.

I grinned. "Goodnight, Jarod," I whispered.

"Goodnight, Miss Parker," he replied. "Sweet dreams."

And that night, I did have sweet dreams. I slept soundly, wrapped in warmth, and my nightly demons kept their distance. When I woke up the next morning, I felt refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to begin my new mission, the one that would inevitably change my life forever.

I tried not to be too disappointed that Jarod was gone, leaving behind nothing but my cell phone and a standard Centre-issue 9mm.



* * * * *



"How did you sleep last night, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked, smiling genially at the departing waitress.

I took a sip of my thick, black, day-old coffee and regarded Sydney over the rim of my mug. "Fine," I replied casually. "Why?"

"I'm just asking," he said with a shrug. "After everything that's happened, I was just wondering how you were coping. You seem much better today."

I rolled my eyes. Of course I was much better; at that time the day before, I was lying in bed, wallowing in guilt and fear. Now I was dressed and out in public. Leave it to Syd to downplay things in an attempt to make me realize the truth.

"Please, Syd, I'm not in the mood for a couch session right now. I'm coping just fine, let's leave it at that."

"Okay." He sniffed experimentally at his own coffee before taking a small sip. "I thought maybe things would be different after last night."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously, sitting up a little straighter. Did he know something he wasn't supposed to know? If Jarod said anything to him, I swore silently, I'll just--

"You know, after spending the night with Jarod."

I stiffened in alarm, and my mug nearly slipped from my rigid hands. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," I growled, knowing that Sydney could see right through me. You're dead, Jarod.

"Don't lie to me, Parker," he said calmly. "I know he was with you."

"And did he tell you that?" I asked in a condescending tone, already plotting Jarod's murder.

"No, as a matter of fact, I figured it all out on my own." He grinned impishly, a sight that sent a chill straight through me. "I'm not completely helpless, you know."

Damn, he's good. I stared at Sydney for a long moment, trying to figure out how I could escape from this situation with my dignity intact. Jarod's murder was postponed for the time being. "And how did you arrive at this conclusion?" I asked him.

He smiled gently. "You know I like to walk in the morning."

I stared. "Actually, I didn't know that." For some reason, I couldn't quite picture Sydney exercising.

"Oh." He chuckled. "Well, I do. And I was walking this morning, just up and down the street, when I saw Jarod come out of your room. I assumed I wasn't just catching him after breaking and entering. Especially since he took the time to change the license plates on your car."

I cringed, imagining the crazy scenarios Syd must have been dreaming up all morning. "Well, he's certainly a master at breaking and entering," I pointed out defensively, trying unsuccessfully to prolong the charade.

"Yes, but this time... I just had a feeling he had stayed the night, and knowing your sleep patterns, I knew how impossible it would have been for him to stay so long without your knowledge."

I chose to ignore the comment about my sleep patterns and pursue the real issue. "You had a feeling he stayed the night?"

"He was carrying his shoes with him," Sydney divulged, smiling fondly. "And he tripped twice on the way to the parking lot, like a man who had just rolled out of bed."

Despite myself, I chuckled as I imagined the scene. Jarod must have been so adorable with his hair all matted down and his--

Syd cleared his throat and I looked up to see him still watching me intently. Needless to say, I sobered quickly. "Fine, he was there. What do you expect me to say about it?"

Sydney shrugged again, offering a mysterious smile. "I just thought that after the two of you..." He trailed off and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Stop right there," I ordered, pointing one finger directly at his face. "Nothing happened between us, you got that?" I grimaced, pretending the mere idea made my ill, when in fact, I couldn't honestly claim I wasn't intrigued by it. But you didn't hear that from me. "I was drunk, but not that drunk."

"Really? Because I thought--"

"You thought what, Freud?" I hissed.

"Well, I know that somewhere beneath all the anger and confusion, you and Jarod have always... you know..."

I bristled indignantly, unwilling to admit things to Sydney that I myself was not yet ready to deal with. "No. I am not having this conversation right now. Is that understood?"

Sydney nodded placidly. "I just thought things would be different now," he said. "But I suppose I was wrong."

"It was bound to happen sometime," I shot back, lifting my mug for another sip. But after a beat, I glanced up and gave him a tiny, secret smile. I couldn't help it; I loved Sydney for caring. Even if he was a nosy bastard.

As if understanding, he returned it. "Be careful, Miss Parker," he murmured protectively.

I nodded. "I always am."

He reached out and covered my hand with his. "I'm glad you're alright, Miss Parker," he said softly. "You scared me."

"Well, at least I scare someone," I joked weakly, not knowing how else to respond.

He shook his head in mild disapproval, but smiled back. "Remember you can talk to me, Parker."

"I know," I replied. "Thanks."

Just then, the ringing of my cell phone startled me, and I pulled it from my jacket pocket. "What?"

"Miss Parker!" Broots cried happily. "Boy am I glad to hear your voice."

"Why?" I asked in surprise, giving Sydney a look of confusion.

"I just got a package from Jarod," he said breathlessly. "I didn't know if it was a time-sensitive sort of thing, or if it had to do with him kidnapping you or whatever, so I figured I better open it. And you'll never believe what it is."

"Well, spit it out!" I cried.

"It's your mother's diary, Miss Parker," he replied.

I gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," he returned. "And Jarod sent a note, too. Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Sure, I guess," I said, dazed.

"Okay." Broots cleared his throat quickly. "It says 'Dear Miss Parker, I don't know if this will help you or not, but it's the last thing of your mother's that I have. I think you're ready to read it now. And I hope it leads you to your answers. Good luck, and let me know if you ever want to disappear. Jarod.'"

I closed my eyes and swallowed around a lump in my throat. My mother's diary. I knew I should be angry with Jarod for keeping it from me all this time, but I couldn't summon a shred of anger toward him just then. Instead, I was just awed.

The package had to have been sent at least a few days earlier, and yet, the note reflected the conversation we'd had just the night before. He knew I would want to find answers about my mother, and he knew that I would decline his offer to disappear together. He'd had the conversation planned ahead of time, right down to my responses.

I wasn't sure if his accuracy was due to the fact that he was a pretender and he knew people, or if it was just because he knew me so well. I decided not to dwell on it.

"...Parker, are you there?"

I shook myself back into reality as I heard Broots' voice over the phone line. I glanced at Sydney and saw him gazing at me in quiet concern. "Yeah, Broots, what did you say?"

"I just asked if Jarod was still with you," Broots said.

I frowned slightly. "No. He's gone. He traded phones with me again while I wasn't paying attention, which you obviously know since you're calling me on this phone--"

"I tried the other number, but no one answered," he interrupted.

Clearing my throat, I continued. "¬and he gave me a gun. It's not mine, but it'll have to do for now. Anyway, I have no idea where he went."

"Oh, okay," Broots replied. "Well, uh, where are you? Was it Arizona, did you say? Do you want me to send some people to pick you up or something?"

I laughed. "No, I think Sydney and I will be just fine," I told him. "But do me a favor, and don't let anyone know that I'm on my way back, okay? And guard that diary with your life."

"Will do, Miss P.," Broots promised. "Mr. Lyle and Mr. Cox are both still at the Centre, though, so good luck hiding from them."

I groaned. I had been hoping that they'd be running around in Arizona, chasing their tails. "Alright, thanks, Broots."

"Sure. When should I expect you back?"

"Well, we still have something we need to do, but that should take only an hour or less. So we'll be in Blue Cove in a couple hours."

"Wow. I know you drive fast, but really, Miss Parker..."

I snorted. Good old Broots. "We're not in Arizona, Broots," I told him. "We're in Jersey. See you soon. And thank you."

"Uh, okay, sure. See ya later..."

I hung up on him and tucked the phone back into my pocket. "Broots," I said needlessly.

Sydney nodded. "Did he have troubling news?"

"No, not troubling, just..." I paused. "Intriguing."

"Really."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really. Now hurry up and finish your coffee, we have a little girl to visit, and we have business waiting in Blue Cove."

"You're the boss," he said, smiling cautiously.

I rewarded him with an uncharacteristic grin. "That's right," I agreed. "And I make the rules."



* * * * *



"Are you ready?"

I glanced at Sydney and nodded. "Yeah, let's go," I said, pushing open the thick hospital door.

Angel had been patched up days earlier, and the rate of her recovery earned her a private room. I guess it's true what they say about children being resilient. I guess sometimes they have to be.

Thankfully, Angel was only hooked up to a couple of monitors, and was breathing and sitting up on her own. I could see that there was a cast around her wrist, and band aids in various spots. She also had some nasty bruises on her face, as well as a look of pain etched into her features, but she managed a smile when she saw me.

"Miss Parker," she breathed, tucking her hair behind her ear. That was when I realized that it had been cut short. "I was worried about you."

Startled, I paused. "Worried about me?"

"I saw what happened that night, when you came to help me," she said.

As I stared at her, memories of that awful night came rushing back, and for the first time, I was struck with guilt for what I had done. I had nearly killed this little girl's father. Sure, in my opinion he deserved it, but it wasn't my call. Besides, she loved him despite everything, and I knew if someone had done that to my father when I was little, I would have been devastated.

"It's okay," she spoke up soothingly. "He's okay. And... He won't be able to hurt me anymore."

"I'm sorry," I croaked, shaking my head.

She smiled again, looking more serene and enlightened than anyone I'd ever known. "Don't be," she murmured. "I'll see Daddy again someday, but only when I know he's not going to hurt me." She looked past me to Sydney and nodded . "I deserve better."

"Yes, you do," I agreed, looking back at Syd, who was beaming proudly. At least someone was receptive to his teachings and psycho babble. I guess if it could help Angel, there had to be some merit to it. "You deserve so much better. I'm still sorry, though. I shouldn't have..."

"It's okay, Jarod and Sydney explained it to me," she replied.

I raised my eyebrows, taken aback. "Explained what to you?"

"Why you wanted to kill my father," she said simply. "How you were remembering your father."

"Oh." I nodded. "Still..."

She held out one shaky hand. "I'm sorry."

I stared blankly at her as I stepped forward and took her hand. "Why are you sorry?" I managed at last.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I'm going to be okay. You don't have to worry about me, do you understand?"

She nodded. "Same here. But you should call me sometime. Sydney knows what my new number will be."

"I'd love to," I said truthfully. "You take care of yourself, Angel."

"I will," she replied, squeezing my hand lightly. "You too."

I stared at her for a minute, completely amazed. Here was a child, who was not only mature and intelligent, but compassionate for others. How she got that way, especially with her upbringing, I'll never understand. "I... I have to go home," I said reluctantly, pulling my hand away.

She shook her head, pouting slightly. "Stay a little while longer," she begged. "Both of you."

I looked back at Sydney, who nodded. Relenting, I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. "A little while longer," I agreed with a smile.



* * * * *



"So we were in the East Wing, you know, where they have all the Byzantine art, and there's this really great painting of God. It was huge, like 10 feet tall or something, it was amazing. But the only problem was that since it was so big, it was hard to see the top. I was kind of staring at the feet. And then I found myself wondering why God was wearing these golden sandals on his feet. I mean, he's God! He doesn't need shoes, am I right?"

I rubbed furiously at my eyes at Broots snickered at his own monologue. Thank God Sydney was there, pretending to pay attention, otherwise I absolutely would have had to throttle Broots. Sometimes I wonder what's going on inside that head of his and then I realize that I'm really too scared to find out.

"And right next to that was one of Jesus, you know, standing in a field with some sheep, but the crazy thing was, he had, like, biceps of steel. It was unbelievable. It was like Rambo Christ or something. Of course, don't take any of this the wrong way, I'm not criticizing religion in any way, it's just the way some of these paintings..."

As Broots continued rambling, I prayed fervently to Rambo Christ and shoeless God for an interruption, even if it had to come in the form of Mr. Raines. Or a typhoon. Anything. This was unbearable.

"...and so Debbie says to me," he was droning on, "if you're Greek, you don't get the joke!" He broke out in a fit of laughter that was way too jolly for 8 AM on a Monday. "That Debbie, I'm serious, she just--"

Rambo Christ must have been listening, because at that very second, my door was thrown open, and Willie walked inside looking like a man on a mission. I welcomed it, whatever it was, if it meant avoiding more anecdotes from the Broots family excursion to the art museum.

"Miss Parker, you will come with me now," Willie stated, walking up to my desk.

"It's nice to see you too, Willie," I replied with a dangerous smile. "Care for a cruller? Danish, maybe?"

"Now, Miss Parker," he replied, unmoved.

I shrugged and shot a glance over at Sydney. He looked a little more nervous than I would have liked. "You know what they say," I said, getting to my feet.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition?" Broots suggested.

I turned to stare at him, and there was a long moment of silence as his cheeks grew slowly redder. I waited until I was sure he was about to wet his pants before I spoke again. "No. I was going to say 'It IS as bad as you think, and they ARE out to get you.'"

It was my turn to be stared at. Until, of course, Willie grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me around to the other side of my desk. It was with great difficulty that I kept both my balance and my composure as I shook out of his grasp.

"After you, Will," I said. "Can I call you Will?"

He grunted and led the way out of my office. I shot a glance over my shoulder at Sydney and Broots as I followed warily. For all my brashness, I was worried. It was never good to be summoned by Willie.

Willie and I reached the end of our little trip together when we arrived at my father's office door. He pushed it open and gestured me inside, remaining in the hall as I entered.

In the office, there seemed to be some sort of argument going on. The taxidermist from Hell, Mr. Cox, was ranting about how expensive it was to keep all his operations running, and Lyle kept interrupting to say something about how hard the Centre works to keep its financial situation in order. My father was listening passively to the whole thing, and none of the three even acknowledged my presence.

"My father does his very best to be fair to all his employees," Lyle said firmly, scowling at Cox. "What you're asking for is just unreasonable."

"And I suppose you're not just saying this because you want a nice, fat, promotion for yourself?" Cox countered.

I rolled my eyes, wondering why in the hell I needed to be present for this nonsense. "Gold-bricking versus brown-nosing: the debate rages on," I spoke up, unwilling to endure more of the inane argument.

"Angel!" Daddy smiled at me, looking relieved at my interruption.

I threw him back a fake smile. I was still playing my part in this whole Daddy/Angel game, but thanks to Jarod, I wasn't fooling myself anymore. Daddy was still my enemy; I was just waiting for the right moment to tell him so. When I was ready, I was going to make him pay for what he did to me. "Willie suggested that I should come to see you," I replied dryly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

His face turned grim, alarming me instantly. "Yes, Angel. I wanted a full explanation of this latest incident with Jarod. Am I to understand that you had him in your grasp and let him go?"

"No," I replied, shrugging. "He was the one holding me captive. I don't know why he let me go, he just disappeared." Of course, the only true part of my story was the part where Jarod disappeared, but I had a pretty strong feeling that the whole truth would get me killed. Painfully.

Mr. Lyle, Mr. Cox, and my father all shared a mysterious stare. Lyle shook his head and clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk, Miss Parker," he said, sighing dramatically. "If you keep lying to the Centre like that, your days are numbered."

"I'm not lying to the Centre," I shot back. "I'm talking to my father. And who are you to be arranging my calender, anyway?"

"Angel," Daddy said, before Lyle could open his mouth. "We're just a little confused. Jarod kidnapped you and held you for over a week, and yet, you're here and he's not. Can you explain this situation to us?"

"Yeah, what'd he do, just decide he was tired of you?" Lyle asked.

"And why was he able to kidnap you in the first place?" Cox put in. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

I let out a soft sigh. "Those sweepers you assigned to me are useless," I said, adding a whiny pitch to my voice for melodramatic effect. "They were absolutely no help to me whatsoever. And Jarod, well, you know Jarod. He's just uncivilized. He just dragged me out of my bed in the middle of the night and threw me into the back of his car. And he had friends with him. I really didn't have a chance."

"Are you sure he dragged you out of bed, instead of into it?" Lyle teased, leering. "If I were him, that's what I would have done..."

"Well then, you should be thanking your lucky stars that you aren't him," I growled, clenching my fists and imagining them in Lyle's face. Or better yet, through Lyle's face. "If you or Jarod or any man ever tries that, that man will no longer be recognizable as a human being, let alone a man."

"Oh, Sis, you really know how to sling it with the best of them," Lyle mocked, rolling his eyes. "But how can you honestly expect us to believe that?"

"Believe what you want, Lyle," I snapped. "But I'm lucky to be alive today."

"Oh, Angel, I had no idea it was so bad," Daddy said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. "I survived. I think we all better be on the lookout, though, because I think Jarod has truly lost it this time. I'm talking cuckoo's nest, big-time." Time to test the waters. "Kept ranting about... child abuse."

My father raised his eyebrows slightly. "Obviously, he's delusional," he stated. "Or maybe he's having memories of his life before the Centre."

I could have strangled him right then and there. The man who had abused me for several years was standing there telling me that Jarod was abused by his parents before the Centre kidnapped him. As if the Centre had done him some sort of favor by stealing him. And as if I had never been abused by my own father. It was unreal.

I think that was the moment when I truly admitted to myself, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was on Jarod's side. It should have been strangely crippling to realize that my life had turned completely upside down, and that everything I had believed was wrong. But I wasn't terribly surprised by anything anymore.

"So you're saying that this isn't just another one of your famous screw-ups?" Lyle asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I glared at him angrily. "I was abducted," I ground out. "I finally was able to escape, but there was no way for me to bring him back. He had my gun, and my sweepers were gone. I did everything I could. I didn't see any of you there helping me."

"I believe you, Angel," Daddy spoke up. "Why don't you go home and get some rest, to recover from your ordeal?"

I smiled tightly. "I don't need any rest," I told him. "And besides, there's work to do. A Pretender to catch. That's the most important thing, right?"

"Right," he agreed, smiling. "That's my girl. Hey, don't worry about losing him this time, okay? There's always next time."

"Yeah. Next time." Don't do me any favors, old man.

"Mr. Parker, I have a bit of a tight schedule today," Mr. Cox spoke up suddenly, looking bored with the whole Jarod conversation. "I don't mean to push, but--"

"Yes, yes, we'll continue our discussion," Daddy said peevishly. "Angel, that will be all, you can get back to work now."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said, with false sincerity. I nodded at my evil brother and Dr. Roadkill. "Lyle, Mr. Cox," I murmured. Then I turned and quickly exited the office.

Once out in the hall, I noticed that Willie was gone and I was all alone. I waited for a few moments, listening to the hum of voices from inside my father's office. Pretty soon, they grew slightly louder and I was able to hear their conversation with minimal difficulty.

"She has really gone too far this time!" Lyle cried. "Honestly, that story--"

"It did sound rather ridiculous," Cox added. "Especially the part about her just escaping. All the evidence is in place, but it's just too neat... It seems an obvious setup. We know the level of Jarod's abilities, as well as hers..."

"I know," Daddy said grimly. "She's obviously lying. But we can't prove it just yet. Or why. We just need to keep our eyes and ears open, and next time she slips up, we'll be ready. Then we'll have them both where we want them. Is that clear?"

I bit my lip and shook my head, but for a change, no tears sprang to my eyes. I wasn't surprised anymore by his lack of trust. It would have been hard for him to surprise me at that point. But that didn't mean it didn't piss me off. As if he needed another reason to be on my list.

"This isn't over, Daddy," I murmured to the door. Then I turned and walked slowly back to my office, ignoring the curious stares I received on my way. They'd be sorry. They'd all be sorry someday.



* * * * *



"Damn subconscious, what's the point of it anyway?" I muttered, padding down the darkened hallway. It had been another restless night, filled with confusing and frightening dreams, and I had eventually been forced to give up the fight for sleep.

Since my return to Blue Cove nearly two weeks earlier, I had read my mother's diary cover-to-cover, and while I had treasured every word, it had been a deeply emotional and at times disturbing experience. I had begun to search through Centre archives and electronic databases for more information on various topics, but the search was progressing slowly. I was still hounded daily about my failure to retrieve Jarod, and I was forced to conduct my own searches in the rare moments when I wasn't being watched by Lyle, Cox, Raines, or my father.

I was still as determined as ever to find my answers and escape the Centre, and especially to punish my father, but I was beginning to feel helpless. It only made matters worse that I was exhausted, and yet my sleep was haunted by my fears. All I needed was to recharge, to regain my confidence.

That particular night, all I could think about was the peaceful night of sleep that I had shared with Jarod, and a part of me deeply regretted that I hadn't gone with him. I could be sleeping peacefully with him that very minute, in some warm, safe bed in Seattle.

"Well, who needs sleep?" I sighed unconvincingly as I headed for the stairs. "Alcohol is all I need," I added.

I made my way down the stairs, headed toward the liquor cabinet, when I noticed a large brown box near my front door. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but I hadn't been looking for a package. I had come home from the Centre worn down and moody, and had gone upstairs instantly to take a bath and go to bed.

Apprehensively, I walked over to the box and crouched down on the floor beside it. I recognized Jarod's block lettering instantly, and I relaxed. I hadn't heard anything from Jarod since that night in my motel room, and I realized suddenly that I had been eagerly awaiting something like this.

Sitting down cross-legged on the floor, I tore open the loosely taped box.

At the very top of the box was a large sheet of white paper covered with Jarod's handwriting. I smiled as I read the words.

"I'm still working on my designs for comfortable, yet fashionable, women's shoes, but until they're done, try these on for size. And if you or your feet ever need a little extra care, just give me a call--you know the number. Good luck -J."

I put the note aside and laughed softly as I saw the soft, white bunny slippers inside the box. I took them out and put them on my bare feet immediately, sighing at the warmth and softness they provided.

"Thanks, Jarod," I mumbled to the empty room as I stood up. His simple gift and thoughtful message left me strengthened and calm, and I knew that if I went back to bed, I'd probably have a much easier time sleeping. Somehow, just knowing that he was out there, cheering me on, made me feel better.

I picked up the note and then the empty box, preparing to toss it in a corner, when it slipped suddenly from my fingers. As I watched, a tiny piece of white paper fluttered out. I bent over to pick it up, unfolded it slowly, and gazed down at the message. Tears clouded my vision, but I smiled as I spoke the words aloud.

"You are loved."

I glanced at the clock, noticing that it was 3:14 in the morning. Bypassing the liquor cabinet and avoiding the stairs, I stepped over to the couch and sat down. I reached my arm over toward the phone and lifted the receiver, considering it silently.

"Eh, who needs sleep?" I murmured to myself after a minute, as I dialed the number I number I had gotten from Broots upon my return and committed instantly to memory. I held my breath and waited as I listened to the ringing on the other end, and was just about to hang up when the phone was abruptly answered with a gruff, muffled 'what?'

A devilish smile crossed my face and I laughed like a child. "Oh, I'm sorry Jarod, did I wake you up?" I closed my eyes as I listened to his low, rumbling laughter.

It was my game now, and I planned to enjoy every minute.

* * * * *

THE END

* * * * *



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