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Fraying Fabric part 6. . . Feedback is nice. . . . .Disclaimer in parts 1-5. . ..spoiler warnings



Fraying Fabric
par 6
by Shannon






Jarod felt a surge of nausea rise up from his stomach and it forced him to stop moving. Checking his breathing, he forced air into his nose, let it fill his lungs and then exhaled from his mouth. The nausea passed.

"You're burning up," Ben said as his hand brushed Jarod's forehead," I have no choice, I have to call her."

"No, you can't," he rasped as he grasped the older man's arm," Wait until tomorrow, please."

***

"And you know why he came back, don't you? It has something to do with that envelope he sent you," Syd repeated.

"Partly," Parker took a deep breath, then took the seat in her chair; folding her arms on the desktop with her fingers interlaced, palms down, elbows out, "What the hell do you want me to say?"

"The damn truth," Sydney retorted, angrily.

"Then we need to take a trip to Alden Falls Correctional Facility and visit Dr. Wallace Cooper. I'm not even sure what's going on?" she replied as she leaned forward her gaze never leaving Syd's.

"The Genetomics doctor?" Syd responded.

"The one and only. Perhaps he can loosen the knot in the thread," Miss Parker mumured.

"What are you going to tell your father?" Broots said quietly.

"Nothing!" she snapped and headed toward the door, stopping in the middle of the doorway, looking over her shoulder, "Well!"

***

The evening had gone wrong from minute zero: Broots' caregiver for Debbie was late and so they had to race to the airport, only to learn that take-off was delayed. One hour. Then two. Once in the air, she had planned on Broots to set up his laptop computer, so that they could dig further into Cooper and Cox's relationship.

It didn't happen.

Yo-yo turbulence rode them all the way to Alden Falls making reading the computer screen a nauseating experience. Sydney had tried to doze, but failed, miserably. Then the thunderstorms that delayed them in Delaware forced them in to a holding pattern until the storms passed. Another hour lost, and so was her patience. The trio arrived in Alden Falls, late at night, so they hailed a taxi and found the closest hotel to the prison.
Parker massaged the back of her neck as she rode up in the elevator. It was hard to keep her eyes open, and she didn't bother to hide a yawn. Right now she was having trouble remembering her own name. She turned the key over in her hand, then inserted it into the lock, pushed into the room, flicked on the light switch, slammed it behind her and made for the bed.

The first rays of sunlight broke through the vertical blinds casting webs on the far wall, rolling herself out of bed, she headed for the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, she emerged dressed in her black suit, a quick survey of herself in the mirror. Then by slipping her sunglasses on, a small smile graced the corners of her mouth, pleased with the completed look she needed, in order to intimidate Cooper.

She had placed the call to the prison warden before leaving Delaware, setting up the appointment for early this morning. It was during the flight and its many delays, that she realized that taking Sydney and Broots with her to meet with Dr. Cooper may seem like an ambush. She was also unsure of what he had to tell, and if the news was as bad as she thought, then she couldn't risk Sydney's reaction to it. Not yet anyway.

The rental car had been delivered, and the clerk at the front desk gave her the keys and directions to the Correctional Facility. The parking lot was on the south side of the hotel, through a gated entry in the side wall. As she slipped behind the wheel, Parker noted the car was equiped with every gadget known to Detroit. It took her a few seconds to get oriented and a few seconds more before she convinced herself that she wasn't charging headlong into foolishness. She realized that she had to concentrate on the why and hope that the how would follow.

God, how she hoped.

She pulled out into the street and headed east, passing through the town, obilvious to the surroundings. She checked her rearview mirror, twice. Habit. Hour and a half later, she found herself on the paved road that lead to the entrance of the prison. Stopping at the gate, she peered over the rims of her sunglasses, at the guard that greeted her, his clip board in hand.

"Warden Marsden," were the only words spoken as the guard nodded, and pointed her in the direction of the main building. The air conditioning had been shut off. The room was stifling, Parker took a seat in the chair in front of the desk while the warden remained standing. Clive Marsden was tall, lean, and middle-aged. His eyes green, and he bore a scar that ran from left cheek to under his chin.

"Cooper's in the infirmary," he told her.

Her shoulders rose a little at that, but he put her at ease quickly.

"He's assigned there during his stay with us."

"You're kidding!" she said dryly," You make it sound like a vacation."

"No, he's supervised. Ready?"

Parker stood and looked none to subtly at the door.


She followed the warden through a series of corridors, waiting at each end for the guard to open the steel mesh gates. The clanging of the metal began to irritate her and by the time they reached the infirmary, her nerves were frayed. The warden stopped and glanced around the room, his eyes seeking the person that had brought her to this dismal place.

"Cooper," the voice wasn't loud but the authority it commanded caused a man in his late forties, almost as tall as her to turn around. His chin was narrow, a pencil thin mustache rode his upper lip, and steel-gray hair framed his face.

"Yes, Warden Marsden," he walked gracefully toward them and it was then that Parker noticed his eyes. . . .slate gray and devoid of any human emotion.

"You have a visitor," he said," You can use Doctor Thompson's office. I'll wait."

Cooper walked with a certain grace and air of confidence into the small room that the Warden indicated and she followed. She watched as the warden shut the door behind them and Cooper took a seat behind the file cluttered desk. She took the seat opposite him, and sat back, her fingernails tapping on the folder that she held. Looking directly at the man across from her, she swallowed, then handed him the picture that was attached to the front of the folder. He took the picture, studied it carefully, then handed it back.

"Jarod Watson. So?"

"You know him."

"Knew," he replied, as he cleared away some of the clutter then leafed through the desk calendar.

"He's responsible for your being here, isn't he?"

"Was."

Parker glared at the man opposite her, feeling as though she was pulling at a loose thread that had snagged and was afraid that if she pulled to hard, it would unravel completely.

"Not if I can help it," her tone defiant as she pushed herself out of thechair and leaned across the desk. She spared a brief glance to make sure thewarden's eyes were elsewhere before she grabbed Cooper's shirt collar.

Parker stormed into her hotel room, slammed the door shut behind her, flung the car keys across the room, and began to shake. She dropped down upon the bed, grabbed the pillow and tried to rip it open with her nails, but tossed it aside before she began to sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks, coating her lip with the taste of salt and then dripped down her chin. Sitting around thinking about what was revealed to her wasn't going to accomplish a thing. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and leaned forward, elbows to knees. That's when her telephone rang. She had no intention of answering it. Let it ring. It was probably the Centre, wanting a progress report. The hell with them.

When she finally stood, she swayed. Staggering to the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the mirror and gripped the sides of the basin as ripples of nausea and dizziness passed. Wash up, she ordered herself, wash up, change and then find Sydney. It was the one thing that she dreaded. Telling Sydney that . . . .

It wasn't fair.

She threw the towel. Personally, she wanted to break the god damn mirror.

Ten minutes later, she closed the door and was knocking hard on Sydney's door, one heel tapping impatiently.

"You. Me. Breakfast now."

Sydney stepped outside and followed her. He'd seen this look in her eyes before, this sense of determination and knew not to push it. She gestured toward the restaurant. Once at the table, she took a deep breath and . . . .then she told him. She told him that the man they both cared for so much was growing weaker by the day and that soon his days would come to an end. Then she watched as this man who had been like a father to her crumbled. She moved closer and put her hand on his back. His sobs slowed, then stopped when he looked up, his eyes cloudy with tears, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"Sorry, Parker. It's just . . . .I feel . . . "

"I know, " her tone undecipherable. The muffled ringing of Parker's cell phone, interrupted. Reaching behind her back, she removed the device, flicking it open, annoyed at the interruption.

"Wh. . . at?" the familiar reply, withered on her lips the moment she heard the voice on the other end. Sydney watched as her facial features went from annoyed to scared in mere seconds. As Parker snapped the phone shut, Sydney saw her hands tremble, then noticed that her entire frame was beginning to shake.

"Parker," Sydney asked, concern for her evident. She looked up from the tablecloth into kind, sad eyes and started to speak when she was seized with such total panic that she couldn't move. It was at this moment that Parker allowed Sydney to comfort her.

"It's Jarod, isn't it?" his voice breaking. She nodded mutely, tears welling up in her eyes.

***

A thin sliver of light was visible through the crack under the bottom of the door; he could hear voices, and the light grew bright as the door slowly opened. Parker's eyes flashed as she glanced at Jarod, his face drawn and pale.

Parker knew if she loosened the tight threads she had wrapped around her heart, fear would overwhelm her. Jarod saw the turmoil. She was unusually pale and yet beautiful in the moonlight, and that in itself was timeless. He saw that her jaw was tightly clenched.

"Jarod," she whispered, sitting beside him, she looked into his thin, pale face as he continued to stare at her," Are you all right?" Sweat beaded on his forehead, his hands trembled, his breathing wheezed, and he began to cough. Feeling guilty for causing pain, Parker flushed. He reached up to touch her hair, but pulled back, afraid of rejection. She was aware he moved slightly. She reached out and touched his cheek, her other hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat.

"It's all right. It's not your fault that I'm . . . ." he whispered soothingly, feeling her tremble. She didn't speak, only shook her head as she closed her eyes. Jarod began to choke and gag, gasping for air. Parker watched, helpless, until the spasm passed and he lay quiet.

"No, I. . .we won't let you. . ." she said softly after a moment. Jarod tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough, his body twisted from the pain. Rolling to his side, he staggered to his feet and off the bed. He made his way down the hall to the bathroom, where he retched. He leaned back weakly, his lips stained with blood, his hands shaking. His breathing was shallow and fast, his body wracked by another coughing spasm.

Parker, who had followed, stared at him helplessly.

"There's a cure for whatever he did to you, isn't there? I won't have you dying on me, Jarod. Isn't there something someone can do?" she asked softly, not daring to touch him.

For a moment neither spoke. Finally, he lifted a trembling hand from the chill floor and motioned Parker toward him. She bent near him. Reaching up, he touched her cheek, drawing her closer. His breath warm on her skin. He gasped inaudibly. She couldn't understand him, as she took a towel and wiped the blood away that stained his lips. Jarod smiled, then closed his eyes.

"Let's get you back to bed. You need to regain your strength." Opening his eyes. he looked up at Parker and she could see deep within their brown depths. His spirit burned low, giving the eyes a soft warmth much different from the raging fire she had always seen in them before. Helping him to his feet, they made their way back to the bedroom, and she eased him onto the bed.

"Parker. . . ." He breathed," I. . .am going. . .to lose consciousness. . .You . . ." His eyes closed, but his grasp on Parker's hand tightened, as though using her to cling to reality. With a struggle, he opened his eyes again to look directly into her blue ones.

"Get him out, Parker!" he mouthed, then his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Jarod!" she called, grasping his hand in both of her hands and resting her cheek against it. "Jarod, please, I need help. Your help!" she whispered, cringing at the touch of his cold flesh. "I can't do what you ask! I can't do it alone!"

His eyes opened. They were as nearly as dark as the night. Moving his hand, the hand she held, he placed it directly over her heart. Then the hand went limp, his head turned to its side. Jarod awoke from a deep slumber to the sound of voices----

How long had it been since he dreamed he saw her? Months. Yet it seemed to him that he'd been suffering like this all his life. Lifting his hands up in front of his face, examining the bones, veins, and sinew. Suddenly he began to cough uncontrollably, the spasms shaking and convulsing him like a marionette.

Breathing slowly, Jarod forced himself to relax. His eyes closed. His breath refused to enter his lungs. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness, again.

The door opened slowly, and someone entered to room, noiselessly, coming to stop at the foot of the bed. His health was shattered or so it seemed to Sydney, as he watched the young man that he had come to love as a son. His body thin, barely skin and bones. He coughed persistently. Sydney wondered if Jarod would draw breath after each spasm. Sydney watched him toss and turn. He reached for the bedcovers that had been kicked off the pretender's body and tucked them up around Jarod, then made for the door. A glance back at the figure on the bed caused the older man to sag against the door for support, but only briefly. Sydney straightened himself, his reslove returning and exited the room.

Jarod knew he was dreaming, and the dream horrified him----he'd dreamed it for weeks, now. He made his way through the mist that swirled at his feet, obscuring his footing.

Jarod left the clinic just before dark; he was exhausted but the closer he got to home, the closer he got to his wife and their little boy; the faster he found himself going. After all, it was only last year that he was alone and dying.And now, it was their first anniversary together, he'd managed to buy a few more presents; they weren't fancy, just last minute thoughts. He'd finally finished the ring for Parker, and he was already simming the look on her face when he gave it to her, the way her eyes smiled and it gave him the warmest feeling.

For Jacob, he'd bought the cutest, softest teddy bear. It was almost as big as the baby, himself. He reached the house and stepped inside, calling.

"Parker?"

No answer.

He frowned and moved forward down the darkened hall, feeling for the lightswitch, his fingers finding it and the lights came on, and he looked into the living room.

Nothing.

"Parker?"

A soft sound from the kitchen caught his attention, like something was banging against the cupboards. Jarod felt the fear clambering up his spine. He made his way toward the kitchen, slowly, when his foot encountered a hard object. Reaching down quickly, his hand wrapped around Parker's gun. Pushing himself against the wall, he made for the dark corner of the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, his stomach lurched upward.

Parker lay on the floor, a pool of blood, a gash to her temple. He said her name, without realizing it, and he was on his knees and at her side, putting his arms around her and praying that she was still breathing, that her heart was still beating. He lifted her slightly, but she made a pained whimper, and he pulled his hands away. They were covered in blood, her blood. He'd felt the torn fabric of her shirt at her back, the rough edges of her skin where the blade had entered.

Pushing her hair away from her face, he keep repeating her name over and over.

"Parker, Parker, oh God, don't leave, don't do this. . . . "

Her eyes opened and her mouth moved. He couldn't understand what she was saying, that is until he put his ear by her lips.

She whispered.

"Jacob. . . . "

Suddenly Brooots was there, and Sydney and then Broots was on the phone, calling for help, telling someone on the other end that someone was hurt bad. Sydney crouched, checking Parker's wounds, using his jacket as a bandage, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Jarod just sat there on the floor, watching as the woman who had made the impossible possible, fade away before his eyes.

Forcing himself to wake, he mustered the strength to thrust off the bedcovers, shivered in the cool air, then literally crawled out of bed. That is how Sydney and Miss Parker found him, standing in front of the window, staring out at the starry night. He coughed, struggled for breath, then smiled weakly at the pair.

"When I die," he said, between breaths," promise. . . ." He was suddenly seized with pain. Agony ran through his body like fiery coals. The stars began to dance in his vision. Doubling over, Jarod collapsed into Sydney's arms. With a firm grip on the pretender's limp body, Syndey carried him back to the bed. Jarod's face was pinched, the lips blue. He had ceased to breath.

She moved to the window, finding comfort in the shadows. The darkness soothed and shaded, softening edges. She heard Sydney's voice, telling her that Jarod had resumed breathing. Leaning against the pane of cool glass, she watched the shadows shift. What was certain in the light became suspect in the dark. The darkness mirrored her life. Like the shadows with which she so indentified, her life was a patchwork of frayed ends and loose threads that invited refitting and mending. She had reinvented herself, over and over to become more inscrutable to those who might try to unravel who she really was, but there was one that she could not deceive. Herself.



TBC

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