Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story

- Text Size +

DISCLAIMER: "The Pretender" and all its characters and situationsbelong to NBC

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask before archiving or forwarding to mailing lists. I doubt I'll say no, but I want to know where it is.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Carolyn for great beta services.



~~~~~ For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her ~~~~~
Part I:
Takes One to Know One
by Maggie McCain




PART: 1 of 2

The corridor was bright with alphabet posters and smelled of Play-Doh and peanut butter. The glassed-in tops of classroom doors revealed groups of children involved in playing, reading, napping, and the myriad of other little activities that make up the school day.

The dark man smiled, bending nearly double as he took a drink from a tiny water fountain. As he stood, something in
his posture eased. This place was so normal, so peaceful. He looked around the hall again and sighed.

"Is something wrong, Dr. Sullivan?"

"No. I was just... this place makes me feel nostalgic."

His companion grinned. "I know what you mean. Every time I come down here, I get a sudden urge to eat paste and sing the alphabet song. I think that's one of the reasons we've been so successful here. Parents like to feel that their children aren't missing out on a normal school experience. The kids get the special attention they need without feeling like guinea pigs. I'm sure you can understand how important that is. A cold, clinical atmosphere does more harm than good in cases like these. We can't help these kids if we don't allow ourselves to care about them for more than their research value."

The dark man was silent for a moment, some strong emotion glinting in his deep eyes.

"Dr. Sullivan?"

He shook his head, as if to banish an unwelcome thought. "I couldn't agree with you more. And please, call me Jarod."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Dr. Harrison?"

The young woman looked up and smiled. "Hello, you must be Dr. Sullivan. I'm Jessica Harrison- but everyone around here just calls me Jessie."

He grinned. "Only if you'll call me Jarod."

"It's a deal. So, Jarod, I hear you're doing some great things with autism treatments. Your last article was fascinating."

"Actually, Jessie, one of the main reasons I came here was your last article."

"The case study?"

"Yes, the little girl- Gracie. Your description of the case was fascinating; I have never encountered a case that was quite so resistant to treatment before."

"I know. I've been working with autistic children since I was an undergrad at Columbia, and this is the first case of this kind I've ever run across- her real name is Maggie, by the way. She isn't hostile or uncooperative like some of the children; in fact she is wonderfully behaved. But no matter what therapy we use, her condition remains the same. Her tests have been practically without fluctuation since she came here, and that's simply unheard of. Her symptoms are actually not severe. All the patients I ever seen with similar ones have responded well to treatment. I just don't understand why she hasn't. It's such a shame. Her intelligence scores are very high, but it's as if she's a prisoner inside herself."

"Jessie," asked Jarod, "would you be willing to let me take over Maggie's treatment while I'm here? I've had some amazing successes in my work before, and I would like to try to help her."

"Of course," Jessie replied. "I'll take you to her this afternoon. I hope you can do something for her. She is such a sweet child."

"Is she here now?"

"Yes, she's in the all-day program. They're napping right now, but if you like I could give you her file and you could look over it before you go see her."

"That would be perfect, thank you."

Flipping her dark braid over her shoulder, Jessie rummaged in a drawer, extracting, after a slight struggle, a hefty file, bound with rubber bands to prevent the contents from escaping. She handed it to Jarod. "Here you go. You can look this over until about two... it has some information that wasn't in the article. I'll be by your office then to take you to meet Maggie."

"Thanks, Jessie. I'll see you at two o'clock then."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Naptime was ending as Jarod and Jessie entered the classroom. The class was small, three children being cared for by two teachers, who were putting away sleeping mats while their charges pursued their own interests for a few moments. The demeanor of the students, whose normal appearances made their behavior seem even more abnormal, cruelly undercut the resemblance to an ordinary schoolroom.

These were the difficult cases, the ones that weren't responding to treatment. A cherubic boy with blonde curls sat in a corner, clutching a tattered stuffed dinosaur. He rocked back and forth as if to an inaudible rhythm, making a chuffing sound to himself. A girl who was obviously his sister was seated in front of a stack of oversized blocks, piling them atop each other in a fantastic tower. When one of the teachers, pausing to speak to her, placed her hand on the child's shoulder, she jerked as if the touch were painful and screamed in fury.

The third student was Maggie. Jarod recognized her from the picture in her file; she was a beautiful child, with a head full of red ringlets and startling green eyes that were too large for her tiny pale face. She was standing in corner of the room, seemingly oblivious to the commotion surrounding her. She clutched a large book to her chest as though it were a teddy bear. Jessie crossed the room to her.

"Come on, Maggie, let's take a walk." The child did not respond, but when Jessie placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her forward, she came without resistance. Jarod followed them out the door and into a smaller room, furnished with low-lying tables and chairs.

"Here, Maggie," Jessie said, "sit down and you can read your book." She gently led her to a chair, and, taking the book from her hands, opened it to a marked place and laid it on the table. Jarod looked at the title: *Little Women.*

"Does she read?" he asked in surprise.

"Oh, no, but she loves to look at books. She seems fascinated by the shapes of words. She will sit and concentrate on a single one for hours. She even turns the pages. It's the only thing we can get her to focus on."

"How do you know she doesn't understand what she's reading?"

"Well, actually I can't say for certain. But she has been with us for over a year and she has never spoken or reacted to verbal stimuli. If the medical tests hadn't proved otherwise, I'd have diagnosed her as a deaf-mute. But she can hear us; she's just buried so deep inside herself that she doesn't seem to realize we're even here. It must be heartbreaking for her poor mother... to have such a beautiful little girl and have to live knowing that she doesn't even seem to know you exist."

Jarod sighed. "Yes, it must be."

"Well," said Jessie, "I'll leave you with her for a while. I know you want to make some observations before you begin treatment."

"Thank you." He watched in silence as Jessie left, shutting the door behind her. How many doors were shut on Maggie? Was there any way for him to open them? He knew only too well the tragic existence of a child who was locked away from its family by doors and armed guards... but what if Maggie's guards were in her own body, her own mind? What if, somewhere inside herself, she wanted to escape as badly as he had? Jarod vowed to himself that, if there were any way to help her, he would do it. He would do everything he could think of to take that dull stare out of her big eyes. He sat at the tiny table across from where she sat, focussing at the pages of her book.

"Maggie," he said softly. "I know you can hear me. My name is Jarod. I am here to help you."

She made no response.

"Dr. Jessie says you like to read. What are you reading now?" He leaned over the book. "*Little Women.* I like that book. It's about a family, with four sisters. Do you have any sisters? Or brothers maybe?" He watched her carefully as he spoke, searching for any sign that she heard him.

"I have one of each. A brother, and a sister," *had,* he added silently, but pushed the wave of sorrow for Kyle away as he continued. "Do you want to know their names? My brother's name is Kyle, and my sister's name is Emily." A subtle movement caught his eye. Did he imagine it, or had there been a flicker of change in her expression? He paused a moment, then continued. "So there were five people in my family; my Mommy's name was Margaret, and my Daddy's name was Major Charles, and they had three children, Emily, Kyle, and me, Jarod. We-" he stopped abruptly. The child who had never responded to verbal stimuli had jerked her head up with a gasp and was staring at him, a look of shocked recognition on her face. Before he had time to do anything but stare, her head had dropped back to the book and her eyes, momentarily so clear, were again vacant and dull.

"Maggie?" Jarod was shaken. He reached across the table and gently cupped her chin in his hand, raising her face from the book. Her expression was unchanged. With a sigh he released her, and her head again dropped toward the page. He returned her to classroom and hurried to his office, his mind seething with questions. He needed answers-answers that this school didn't have. He was going to have to get his research team to work on Maggie Mackenzie.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Jarod sat hunched over his laptop, oblivious to the gathering shadows outside his window as the day slipped into dusk. He had never given as much concentration to anything as he did every day to ensuring that his father and "brother" would stay safe. He sighed. This life was lonely, of course, but without the desperation he had begun to feel before he had found them. The fact that he could call them, talk to them, made the ache bearable. It was still far from the normal family life he'd always dreamed of, but it was so sweet. And someday, he was sure, there would be a time when they would be together-all of them-free at last from the echo of pursuing footsteps.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Five minutes to trace, Dad. How are you?"

"We're doing fine. We went fishing yesterday."

He smiled. "That sounds great. I wish I could have been there."

"So do we, son." Major Charles was silent for a moment. "Have you found anything?"

"Maybe. I want you to find out everything you can about a girl named Margaret Emily Mackenzie, date of birth September 22, 1993. Send the information to box 23."

Jarod heard his father gasp. "Margaret Emily?"

"I know, I felt the same way. It may be coincidental, but I can't just let it go."

"I'll do what I can. Expect it tomorrow afternoon."

"Good."

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad. Both of you."

"Goodbye."

Jarod hung up with a smile. Tomorrow morning he would try talking to Maggie again. Tomorrow afternoon he would have her history. And tomorrow evening he intended to visit the Mackenzie home.

His eyes turned to the picture of his mother, holding the infant Emily in her arms. "I'm getting closer, Mom," he whispered. "I can feel it."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Jarod could feel his stomach churning as he parked outside Maggie Mackenzie's house. The information his father had uncovered had confirmed his suspicions. He was sure that Carolyn Mackenzie knew something about his family. But from what he had learned about her, she would be extremely unwilling to part with any information. Her behavior was that of a woman with a secret, but no one could keep silent forever; there had to be a way to convince her to talk. Taking a deep breath, Jarod started up the walk.

The house was a pretty little two-story, with a big yard that was perfect for a child to play in. It was neat, but there was a certain air about it that spoke of making do; Maggie's tuition couldn't be cheap. Jarod made a resolution that the Centre was due to make a charitable donation soon. He knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Carolyn Mackenzie answered the door hesitantly, holding it in front of her like a shield. Her eyes, green like Maggie's, were wary and concerned.

"Hello, Mrs. Mackenzie. I'm Dr. Jarod Sullivan. I have taken over your daughter's treatment at Ferncrest," he said, smiling in an attempt to put her at ease.

"I was unaware that Dr. Jessie was leaving," she remarked, her voice tense.

"No, she isn't going anywhere. She has asked me to consult on Maggie's case. I have had some remarkable successes in treating autistic patients in the past."

"So then why are you here? Don't you see enough of her during the day?"

"Mrs. Mackenzie, I would like to speak with you about your daughter. I spent some time with her today, and I think I can help her. Please, may I come in for a little while?"

She was quiet for a moment, examining Jarod with a look of appraisal. Finally, she nodded. "Come in."

Jarod entered the front hall, and watched as Carolyn fastened several locks on the door.

"From outward appearances, I wouldn't have picked this neighborhood to have much of a crime problem," he remarked mildly.

"I have to protect Maggie," she said quickly. "She's... different from other children, I have to be very careful."

Jarod followed her into the living room. "Family is the most precious thing we have. You're wise to protect her; when you lose your family it makes a hole inside you."

"You sound like you speak from experience." Carolyn's voice had softened.

"I was taken from my family when I was very young."

"Taken?"

"Yes. I-" he was interrupted by a crash and a scream from upstairs. Carolyn bolted from her seat and ran towards the sound, Jarod close behind her. They followed the sound of crying to a little blue-and-yellow bedroom upstairs, where Maggie sat in the midst of a vast pile of blocks, holding her wrist and sobbing.

"Sweetie, what is it? What happened?" Carolyn was frantic as she tried to catch hold of her daughter's injured arm. To Jarod's amazement, she answered her mother.

"I was trying to finish my building," she wailed, "And I stood on the chair to put the top on and it fell over and I hurt my arm!"

Jarod cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. "I think we have some things to talk about." Both the Mackenzies whirled around with looks of shock and horror on their faces. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to turn you in. But I would like to know why a treatment-resistant autistic is suddenly able to communicate."

Maggie had stopped crying and was staring at him intensely. She tugged on her mother's sleeve and whispered something
in her ear that seemed to startle her. "No, Maggie, that's impossible," she said.

"It *is,* Momma. I know it is. I can tell."

"Mrs. Mackenzie," Jarod interrupted, "I don't know what is going on here, but I promise I am not here to hurt you or Maggie. I just need to ask you some questions."

Carolyn regarded him with suspicion. "You can ask, but I can't promise to answer."

Jarod reached into his pocket and pulled out the pictures of his mother and sister that he carried with him everywhere. "Have you seen either of these women?"

Carolyn shook her head in disbelief as she looked from one picture to the other. "Who are you, really?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. "Where did you get these pictures?"

"My name is Jarod. I was taken from my family when I was very young. I have been searching for them for years. This is all I have been able to find of my mother and sister."

"I can't believe this," she said. "This is impossible. You..."

"You know them, then?" Jarod's voice was high with excitement. "You know Mom and Emily?"

"Know them? Emily is my best friend. We were roommates in college; we even got tattoos together on her twenty-first birthday. She used to talk about you all the time. I never thought... I never even dared to hope I'd see you someday."

Jarod felt his heart beating as though it would tear through his ribs. "Do you know where they are now?"

She shook her head regretfully. "Something happened about three years ago and they had to go into hiding. I get a card or an email every once in a while, but never anything I could trace."

Jarod squeezed his eyes shut to hide the disappointment that hit him like a strong left hook. Three years ago... Boston. He could see it playing on the backs of his eyelids: the cab, the shots, and his mother pressing herself to the back window as she drove away from him... after a moment, he raised his head.

"Mrs. Mackenzie-"

"Carolyn."

"Carolyn, would you- please, could you tell me about them? What are they like? Do they-" his voice wavered. "Do they miss me?"



END (01/02)









You must login (register) to review.