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This is a work of fan fiction and no copyright infringement is intended. The Pretender is the property of NBC.
STATIC AND FLUX
by Penny
Blue Cove,
Delaware
The single light glared angrily from behind its metal cage. The room was small, windowless and the walls an unrelieved gray on which black shadows would have shown had there been anything in the room to cast them. The bed was a single, uncovered mattress lying on the cold floor. A toilet hugged one wall with no concession to privacy. Beside it stood a simple sink, bare plumbing visible beneath it. The only bit of color was the red power light of the camera that was bolted to the ceiling in the far corner of the room. It was placed where it had the best view of the room and anyone who would enter or try to leave it. The iris whirred softly as it focused on Sydney as he entered, its single eye tracking his progress as he slowly walked to the huddled man who sat on the floor beneath it, the only spot in the tiny room where its gaze could not reach.
"Jarod," Sydney said softly as he squatted down beside him.
Jarod finally raised his head which allowed Sydney to see the large purpling bruises scattered across his bare chest and the side of his face. Next he noticed the shackles around his ankles. The chain looked to be about a foot in length. The Center was making sure that their Pretender would not be running from them again.
"My God Jarod, what did they do to you?"
Jarod shrugged. "Some sweepers and I had a disagreement about my fashion sense." He sadly looked down at the dull gray cotton pants he was wearing; they were his only article of clothing and looked like the bottom half of a suit of surgical scrubs. He silently mourned the loss of his black leather jacket and what that loss represented. "They won." Jarod studied his old mentor a few seconds before asking the one question whose answer mattered to him. "Sydney, how’s Miss Parker? It’s been two days and none of the guards who bring in the food will talk to me."
Sydney straightened himself and smoothed his jacket; squatting was not a comfortable position for a man of his age. "She’s going to be fine. The bullet missed anything vital but the Center doctor said that the blood loss would have killed her had it not been so expertly stopped. You saved her life."
Jarod slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding. He was glad that she would be OK, even if it did cost him his hard-won
freedom. Had he left her and she had died, he would not have been able to live with himself.
"Mr. Parker is very grateful," Sydney added.
Jarod cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Grateful enough to open the door and look the other way?"
Sydney gave him a look that told him without words how unrealistic he was being. "Grateful enough to put me back in charge of The Pretender project rather than Raines and Lyle. Needless to say, they were not pleased."
"I’m sorry, Sydney," Jarod said dropping his head again in fatigue, "but I won’t work for the Center again, not even for you. I promised myself that I would never let them exploit me again and I meant it."
Sydney look around the room again trying to find somewhere to sit. The room was more sparsely furnished than a prison cell. He moved to a wall and leaned against it. "Jarod, I’m not asking you to do any sims but would you at least take some tests for me. The Triumvirate wants to see how your experiences on the outside have affected your abilities and they want you to cooperate in taking a full physical." He paused while trying to gauge his pretender’s reaction to the request. "Just think about working with me on this; buy yourself some time to consider what would be in your best interest."
Jarod shook his head slowly, as if the effort were almost too much for him. "I was a hostage negotiator with the New Orleans police department for a couple of weeks last year, Sydney. I don’t think that you knew that. One of the first things that you have to do when negotiating is to get the other person to agree to some small concession. You use that as a springboard to get him to agree to larger and larger concessions until finally you get what you want." He looked with quiet determination into Sydney’s eyes. "I won’t cooperate Sydney. I’m sorry."
Sydney stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. He had known that Jarod would be difficult. "I understand." He paused before adding, "You look tired. They told me you were refusing to eat."
"I don’t seem to have much of an appetite."
"Jarod, believe it or not I have your best interest at heart so trust me when I tell you this: if you don’t eat, they will strap you down and force-feed you. Please, don’t subject yourself to that indignity," Sydney pleaded.
Jarod sighed, "I’m not so na‘ve now Sydney. I understand the possible consequences of what I do. I’ve been running the various scenarios in my head for the last two days." Jarod dropped his head. "Thanks for coming by Sydney but I’m tired now," he said, dismissing the psychiatrist.
Sydney looked at the ceiling while he tried to think of something else to say. His mind remained blank. He turned and walked back to the door, the soft whir of the camera indicating that it was following his movement. He lifted his hand to knock so the guard on the opposite side of the door would let him out.
"Sydney!"
He turned back, "Yes, Jarod."
"Would you please tell Miss Parker that I’m glad she’s all right."
Sydney nodded, "Yes, yes I will."
"Thank you."
Sydney faced the door and knocked. It was immediately opened from the other side and he stepped out leaving the lonely man alone again.
****************************************
A dark figure pushed open the grill of a ventilation shaft and nimbly dropped to the floor. Keeping to the shadows he made his way to an office, jimmied the lock and ducked inside. Muttering to himself he crouched in a corner and waited.
Miss Parker hated inactivity. That was why she was headed to her Center office instead of resting at home. Two days before, she had been shot in the back with a bullet meant for her father. However, the bullet hadn’t actually done much damage and her blood loss had been replaced by a couple of transfusions. Her left arm and shoulder were held immobile by a sling and the pain was controlled by a few tablets of Darvon. In fact, for a woman that just a few days before had stood at death’s door, she was in remarkably good shape....and remarkably restless. She walked through the deserted Center halls and arrived at her office. The door was ajar. She immediately became cautious and then angry. She threw the door open and quickly flipped on the light. "What the hell do you think....."
"AAAeeeee!" Angelo shrieked, holding his hands over his ears.
"Angelo?" Parker asked, quickly coming all the way into the room and shutting her door behind her. "What’s wrong? Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.
"Hurt!" Angelo cried in anguish.
"Where? Where are you hurt?" Parker asked, rushing to his side.
"No, no," he shook his head. "Hurt!" He reached out and gently took her good hand. "Hurt," he said as if that one word explained everything.
Parker thought perhaps he was talking about her wound and tried to reassured him. "Yes, Angelo, I was hurt but I’m better now. I’m going to be fine."
Angelo dropped her hand and shook his head. "Not hurt here," he said touching his shoulder, "hurt here." He placed his hand over his heart. "Hurt. Friend hurt."
Suddenly it became clear to Parker. "Jarod, you mean that Jarod is hurt."
"Hurt, hurt here," he said continuing to point to his heart. "Fear, pain, loneliness," he explained. "Daughter make better," he pleaded.
"Angelo, I’m sorry but there’s nothing that I can do," she said with real regret in her voice.
"Daughter make better," he persisted.
"Look, I don’t even know where he’s being held..."
Angelo pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt and stuffed it into her good hand. He then turned and bolted from the room. Miss Parker followed after him as quickly as she could but by the time she reached the hall, no one could be seen. She returned to her office and shut the door before opening the slip. "SL-27," she read aloud.
****************************************
The Parker name and a good glare could intimidate any Center guard. It took Parker longer to find the correct room on SL-27 than it did to persuade the guard on duty out side the door to allow her entrance. He quickly checked his monitor to make sure that Jarod wasn’t near the door before he swiped his card key in the slot, deactivating the magnetic lock.
Jarod heard the door open and looked up from where he sat beneath the camera in the far corner of the room. His heart raced
momentarily when he recognized the lithe, fashionably clad form of Miss Parker. He immediately noted the sling and her slightly pale coloring. Still, she was alive! And she was here? Why would she come, what reason would she have? Bitterness leapt to his tongue. "Well the Center has me back. Come to gloat?"
Miss Parker walked to the center of the small cell and looked around with disdain. She then focused her steady gaze at the man
whom she had been blaming for turning her life upside down. "Actually, I came to say thank you for saving my life."
Jarod was taken aback and immediately felt ashamed. "I’m sorry," he said as he struggled to his feet, the chains of his shackles
clinking on the concrete floor as he moved. "You’re not catching me at my best."
"I can see that," Parker said, taking in the bruises and his unkempt appearance. "You look like hell."
Jarod gave her a grim smile. "Well, when in Rome." He nodded toward the sling. "Are you all right?"
Parker walked closer, looking more carefully at the bruises and abrasions on his pale skin, "I should be asking you that."
Jarod shrugged to dismiss her concern. He had more important things to talk about than his condition. "My father didn’t kill your
mother, Parker. Fenigor was wrong."
Parker nodded minutely in agreement. "I know. I know everything now about her death and why she died. She was going to rescue you, take you away, so they killed her."
Jarod looked away. Was it his fault that her mother had died? What could he say to her? Did she hate him for something over which he had no control?
As if she had read his mind, Parker continued, "Jarod, I’m not blaming you. I think my mother knew what she was doing and the possible consequences. She believed that saving the children was important and was willing to risk her life for that cause. I know exactly who to blame for her death. I know who pulled the trigger."
Miss Parker talking about the children reminded Jarod of a conversation he had with the boy, the child that the Center had created from his DNA. "Speaking of the children, I talked with the boy. He told me that you were kind to him. I wanted to thank you for that. I don’t think he has seen much kindness in his life."
Parker smiled sadly. "He reminded me of a boy I knew a long time ago. That boy was my best friend but somehow, with everything that had happened over the years, I forgot that."
"My only friend," Jarod said softly, "other than Angelo."
"Jarod..."
Whatever she might have been going to say was lost when the guard opened the door. "Miss Parker, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave now."
She turned and glared at the sweeper. "I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave," she said with ice in her voice.
The burly guard blinked quickly as if at a loss for how to respond. He then remembered his original purpose. "I’m sorry, ma’am, but the property has to be evaluated and prepared for transport."
"Transport?" she asked. "Who gave an order for transport?"
"Well, that would be me," Lyle said as he stepped through the door.
"Why a transport order?" Miss Parker asked in a tone that suggested more than just idle curiosity. "The simulation facilities are here in Blue Cove."
"Jarod knows the lay out of the Center too well. He’s already escaped once and seems able just to come and go as he pleases.
Plus, the powers that be suspect that he may have had someone at the Center helping him. If he’s isolated, he’ll be easier to
handle." Lyle talked about Jarod as if he wasn’t present and listening.
"Hmm, and away from any oversight," Miss Parker added.
"Yes, there is that," Lyle added smugly. "I’ll be handling all the details personally."
Jarod backed against the wall, his hands involuntarily curling into fists. Lyle’s appearance wasn’t unexpected, but Jarod hadn’t quite prepared himself for the presence of the man who had tried to kill him and had murdered his brother, Kyle. He hated Mr. Lyle, a.k.a. Bobby Bowman, and was certain the hate was mutual. "He’s lying," Jarod growled. "Sydney told me that he was still in charge of my program."
"That’s true," Lyle said as he walked past his sister and toward the pretender. "Sydney is in charge of the project. However, the
Triumvirate believes that your time on the outside has contaminated your objectivity. They want the amount of contamination
determined and eliminated before the project resumes." He stood in front of Jarod, just out of range of the pretender’s arms and
confident in his ability to thwart any attack that the shackled and debilitated man might launch but close enough that Jarod caught a flash of gold inside of Lyle’s suit jacket. "They also want you more, oh, biddable. So you see, Sydney is in charge of the project but I am in charge of your assessment and retraining."
"I’ll never cooperate with you," Jarod snarled defiantly.
Lyle smiled, stepped back away from Jarod and turned to his sister. "Retraining could last indefinitely, Sis. I might be away for a
while but since you’ll be going back at Corporate soon, I doubt that we would be spending much time together anyway."
Lyle smiled and began removing his glove, revealing his mutilated hand. "Yes, everyone will be where they belong: Jarod back at the Center, you at Corporate and me, I’ll be on my way up."
Jarod chose that moment to launch himself at Lyle, knocking him to the ground and grappling with him. The guard immediately
grabbed Jarod and pulled him off. He brutally hit the pretender in the stomach, knocking him back against the wall. Jarod curled there as if to protect himself from further assault but was actually hiding his prize.
Miss Parker helped her brother to his feet. She didn’t check to see if he was injured or offer sympathy. Instead she shook her head at him. "What did you expect, thumbing your nose at him like that. Oh, sorry, I forgot." She walked to the door and, without turning around, added, "Remember Jarod is a valuable Center asset. I doubt the powers that be would be pleased if he were damaged."
Lyle watched Miss Parker leave. He wiped the blood that dribbled down his chin and looked at it in fascination. He glanced at the guard. "Hold him," he said as he advanced on the pretender.
****************************************
Sydney had been seeing to the refurbishing of Jarod’s old rooms. Finally finished, he was walking down the corridor toward his office to pick up his brief case before calling it a night and going home. He noticed a light on in Miss Parker’s office and changed direction. The door was slightly ajar. With one hand on the knob he slowly opened the door while announcing his presence by lightly knocking. On entering, he saw Miss Parker at her desk, wiping at the skin beneath her eyes; eyes that seemed to be shiny and reddened in the dim light.
He was concerned. "Miss Parker, are you all right?" He stepped further into the room. "Have you been crying?"
Parker cleared her throat. "Of course not!" She straightened herself and pulled her dignity around her like a sweater. "What are you doing here so late? Consulting with Raines on the most recent techniques in mind control?"
Sydney was taken aback. "Parker, what are you talking about?"
"About what you’re doing to Jarod."
"I’m trying to keep him alive!"
"With Lyle’s helping hand? I thought you cared about Jarod," she retorted.
Sydney was confused about the direction the conversation was taking. He felt as though he were missing some important piece of information. "What are you talking about, Parker?"
"Does relocation, assessment and retraining, sound familiar?"
"No, it doesn’t."
"Then you know nothing about Lyle taking Jarod away from the Center facilities?"
"Parker, your father assured me that I would again be in charge of the Pretender project. That’s where I’ve been, preparing Jarod’s old rooms."
"Well, Syd, it doesn’t look like he’s going to need them."
****************************************
Jarod suffered through Lyle’s beating stoically. His lack of screaming seeming to feed Lyle’s anger so that he only hit him harder. When he was finally left alone, he slowly crawled back to his place beneath the camera and placed his back against the wall. He needed to rest and regain some strength.
A short while later, he retrieved his treasure from the waist band of his pants. He regarded the pen hopefully. First he bent back the clip until it snapped from the pen. He then opened the pen and took out the ink reserve. He laid these carefully beside the wall. He stood and went to the toilet, taking some paper and using it to wipe his forehead; palming some to take with him to the sink. Aware of the camera following his movement, he went to the sink and turned on the water. He cupped his hands beneath it and appeared to drink. He then shuffled to his place against the wall. He lay the sopping wet paper beside him and placed the ink cartridge on it. The ink began to seep into the wet paper, coloring it black. He then took up the clip and inserted it into the lock of his shackles. Moving it carefully and with patience he felt the lock click open, freeing his feet. He removed the shackles and held it in his hand. He wrapped the chain around his hand. He picked up the wet wad of blackened paper.
His preparations completed, Jarod stood, took a deep breath, and took one step forward before falling on his face. One hand was hidden beneath him and the other arm was flung out as if he had tried to catch himself. The wet paper was beneath it. The pressure of his arm squeezed the wad and black water spread around his hand. On a black and white camera he hoped it would look sufficiently like blood to get the guard’s attention. It was a gamble but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The guard was routinely monitoring the video feed from the cell. He was bored. There usually wasn’t much to see as the occupant of the small, dreary room went to great pains to sit in the camera’s blind spot. Suddenly he saw the prisoner’s body fall forward and blood spread out from his wrist. He panicked. If anything happened, he would be held accountable. He quickly called medical and then rushed into the room to check on the captive.
Jarod heard the magnetic lock decouple and hurriedly stood. He ran to the door getting there just as it began to open. He pushed hard. The guard, not expecting the move, lost his balance. Jarod rushed from the room and struck the sweeper with his
chain-wrapped fist, knocking him unconscious. He pull the man into the room, shut the door and ran down the hall. A ventilation shaft grill suddenly fell from the wall ahead of him and a hand reached down to help him into the bowels of the building.
****************************************
Sydney became more and more agitated as he listened to Parker’s account of the conversation she had had with her brother in
Jarod’s cell. When she told him about Jarod’s attack, he looked at her in disbelief. His mind was racing, discarding one suggestion after another. "I’ll call your father. He never mentioned that Jarod would be moved and certainly never mentioned that Lyle would be involved with Jarod in any fashion."
"I’ve already tried to call him." Miss Parker had walked to the front of her desk and now sat perched on the edge, absently rubbing her neck where the sling cut across it. "It seems that Brigette was so upset by his kidnapping that he decided to take her away on an impromptu vacation for a few days." She looked Sydney straight in the eye and added harshly, "He didn’t even bother to tell me himself, Syd. I only found out when I tried to call him after seeing Lyle."
"There has to be something that we can do, Parker!"
Parker shook her head in resignation. "What’s the point? He probably isn’t even in the Center any longer."
Suddenly klaxons began sounding. Parker rushed to the door and threw it open. Sweepers were running helter-skelter through the corridors, urged on by the strident shrilling of the alarm. She turned back to Sydney, her mouth open as if to say something only to stop in confusion when she saw him. Sydney had placed his hands in his pants’ pockets and was rocking back on his heels, smiling contentedly at the ceiling.
"I think you’re correct, Parker. Jarod probably isn’t at the Center any longer."
Parker tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Sydney?"
Sydney strolled to the door. "Parker, it’s getting late. I’m sure it must be difficult to drive with your injury. Why don’t you let me take you home?"
****************************************
Crawling through the ventilation shafts sent a wave of pain through Jarod’s side. The sharp pain increased in intensity whenever he drew a deep breath. Abstractly he began the mental exercise of determining the difference between a mild fracture and a broken rib. The distraction helped to distance the pain. In truth, cracked or broken it didn’t matter. He had to endure the discomfort and make it to the exit as soon as possible. After they searched the Center grounds they would begin to search the surrounding area. If he wasn’t well away by that time, he would be recaptured and if recaptured, Lyle would make certain that he could not escape again.
It took much longer to get to the point where the shaft vented above ground than Jarod remembered it taking the last time he had escaped by this route. When he finally pulled himself up and over the edge, the adrenaline rush of his escape was beginning to ebb and all he could do was lay on the tall grass and try to catch his breath.
****************************************
Sydney’s car was stopped at the gate and not even Parker’s presence kept the guards from thoroughly searching the vehicle. After several minutes they were allowed to proceed. Sydney drove slowly down the access road in the growing twilight. When he judged that he was far enough from the gate, he switched on his headlights. Several seconds later he began flicking his high lights off and on.
"Syd, what..."
"Please, Parker," Sydney interrupted her, "I need to concentrate: short, long, short, pause, short, pause, short, short, long, short." He had a look of intense concentration on his face as if trying to recall some long-forgotten bit of trivia. "Damn it, I just can’t remember." He hit the steering wheel in frustration. Then a light dawned in his eyes. "Yes, that’s it: short, short, long, pause, long, long, short, pause, short."
He waited a second and then started the sequence over again.
Jarod had managed to pull himself into a sitting position. From his vantage point beside the vent, he could see the Center in the not so far distance and had an excellent view of the access road. The road was only traveled by Center personnel until it joined with the state route a few miles away. He would need to walk to the Interstate. He smiled grimly to himself. He had no transportation, no money, no shoes and precious little clothing. He was injured, dehydrated and hungry. Still, he was free, if only for the moment.
Contemplating the road he noticed a lone car leaving the Center. There was only one car, which meant it probably wasn’t a sweeper team starting to look for him. The driver began to flash his lights. Jarod looked up and down the road but could see no reason for the driver to be calling such attention to himself. Then he noticed the pattern of the flashes: short, long, short (R); short (E); short, short, long, short (F); short, short, long (U). Jarod stood and began stumbling down the gentle incline toward the road before he had finished deciphering the next letter. He urged himself to go faster. The pain in his side was intense but he had to reach the road before the car passed.
A figure stumbling into the road in front of him caused Sydney to quickly brake and jump out of the car seemingly before it even
came to a complete stop. He grabbed Jarod by the arm and helped him hastily into the back seat. He was back in the car and
speeding down the road again in less than fifteen seconds. Miss Parker had difficulty hiding her surprise but shut her mouth quickly when she saw Jarod slump in the back seat. His pain was obvious.
Keeping his eyes on the narrow road, Sydney urgently questioned the man who was like a son to him. "Jarod, are you all right?"
No response.
"Jarod?" he said more urgently while trying to snake his head around to look into the back seat.
"Don’t bother, Syd. Your boy has passed out," Parker informed him. "Let’s just get him to my place."
****************************************
Parker stood on her porch watching the slowly rising bright moon. She had helped Sydney half-carry Jarod into her bedroom and had then excused herself to open a can of soup while Sydney examined Jarod’s injuries. She had heated the soup in the mircowave and had left it to cool on the counter. She had glanced at her closed bedroom door and then had gone outside to wait. The quiet moonlight brought back too many memories. She heard the screen door open and out of the corner of her eye watched Syd approach. He stood silently behind her, watching her watch the night sky. "Thomas used to love looking at the stars," she reminisced.
"I’m sorry I never had the chance to get to know him, Parker. I’m sure he was a very special person."
"Yes," she agreed quietly. "Yes, he was." She turned to face the psychiatrist, the softness of a second before replaced with a more business-like attitude. "How’s Jarod?"
"Pretty much as you’d expect. He assures me that his only major problem is a broken rib. I need something to stabilize it so that it won’t pierce his lung. Do you have a bandage?"
Parker nodded and led the way back into the house. She noticed that the soup was no longer on the counter. She also heard the sound of her shower. She rummaged in a drawer beneath her cabinets and came up with three long bandages, wound into tight little balls. She handed these to Sydney and watched him start to retreat to her bedroom. "Syd, wait."
Sydney turned.
"There are some Darvon and a few other pain medications in my medicine cabinet. Feel free to help yourself to anything he needs."
"Thank you," Syd said gratefully. Parker had not always been so considerate of another person’s pain. Perhaps the walls around her heart were coming down. Thomas must have been a very special person indeed.
Sydney started back to the bedroom. Miss Parker’s phone rang. It stopped him and he looked at it almost fearfully.
Miss Parker pointed her chin at her bedroom to indicate for him to go on and then reached for the receiver. "What!" she said in her typical exasperated telephone voice. She listened. "No, I’m not coming back in tonight. I was shot a few days ago, remember." She was quiet a few more minutes. "Well, that’s not my problem. Like you said Lyle, you’re in charge. You find him." She returned the receiver to its cradle with a loud and satisfying crack.
The bedroom door, correction, her bedroom door was still closed. Parker stared at it for several long minutes feeling vaguely irritated until the ache in her shoulder demanded her attention. She glanced at the clock and realized that it had been several hours since she had taken her last pain pill. She started purposefully toward her bedroom and medicine cabinet but then stopped and reversed her direction. She couldn’t drink while taking narcotics but since the pill had worn off, a few fingers of Scotch would dull the pain nicely. It was difficult opening the bottle but where there was a will, she could always find a way.
She swirled the amber liquid around in the glass before taking a long sip. The alcohol burned her throat and stomach then settled into a steady warmth that left her tired mind tingling. She looked again at the door to her bedroom. They had been in there long enough! She strode to the door and opened it.
Jarod sat on her bed with his arms up and his hands behind his head. He looked like he was about to be frisked. He had a white bath towel wrapped around his waist, modestly covering everything that needed to be covered. She noticed first the towel and then that he had shaved. She made a mental note to toss her razor. Sydney was just finishing tucking the end of the last bandage under and making sure it was secure. Both men looked at her when she opened the door.
"Stick ëem up," she deadpanned.
Jarod’s startled looked subsided to one of wry amusement. "I surrender. You’ve got me covered."
Parker looked pointedly at the towel. "Not by much."
Jarod looked down and blushed.
Parker smiled to herself that she could embarrass him. He may have been out in the world for three years but that had not made him worldly.
Jarod recovered quickly. He threw a quick glance at Sydney and watched the older man try to hide his amusement. "The airline
seems to have misplaced my luggage," Jarod said with a half smile.
She gave him an appraising stare before moving to her closet and rummaging in the back. She turned and threw Jarod a plaid
workshirt and a pair of jeans. "Put these on."
Jarod caught them out of the air, though the sudden movement sent a sharp pain through his side. He immediately realized whose clothes these were and the gesture touched him. "Thank you, Parker," he said sincerely.
Sydney and Parker both left to give the pretender some privacy.
A short while later Jarod exited the bedroom. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, that plaid shirt - for a second Parker’s heart saw what it wanted to see. Pulled unwillingly back to reality, she suddenly realized just how similar Thomas and Jarod looked. It disturbed her for a reason that she couldn’t name. There were differences though; Jarod was taller and more broad than Tommy had been. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up and it stretched too tightly across his shoulders.
Jarod scanned the room. "Where’s Sydney?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard an engine rev to life.
"He said he needed to leave. He’ll be back tomorrow morning." Parker was seated on her sofa. She had taken off her shoes and sat with her legs curled under her, undoubtedly wrinkling her silk suit. Her empty glass sat on the end table.
Several minutes passed in silence. Neither knew quite what to say. Neither knew where to start. Parker stared at her hands. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. It would have been so much easier if she still smoked. She could have focused her attention on the cigarette, inhaled deeply to fill up the pause in the conversation or waved it around to make her point. She had quit smoking and didn’t know what to do with her hands. It made it harder to talk.
The quiet night was interrupted by the sound of an engine as a car traveled in the night. Jarod startled at the sound and looked
around the room for possible escape routes. He visibly relaxed as the noise crested and then faded into the distance.
Parker noticed the reaction. "Did you think I called for a team of sweepers to come pick you up?"
Jarod cocked his head slightly as he assessed her. "The possibility did cross my mind."
"Well, I didn’t." She paused as if in consideration. "I won’t."
Jarod sat down uncomfortably across from her. "Why not?"
"What?" Parker asked as if she couldn’t believe what her had asked of her.
Jarod repeated himself. "Why not? You’ve been chasing me for three years. I’ve given you information about yourself, about your mother. I’ve never lied to you, I’ve helped you when I could - but you still kept on coming. Still hunted me. Why not turn me in now? Sydney’s not here. He wouldn’t know. Why not?"
Parker looked at him a minute and then shrugged. "There was something that I thought that I wanted and I did what I thought I had to do to get it."
"And," Jarod prompted.
"And now, I don’t want the same thing." Parker’s voice became hard, "I’ve learned too much about my family, about deep Center secrets." She paused. "When I finally realized what I really wanted, it was too late. The Center saw to that. They took Thomas and before that they took my mother. Now, they’re going to have to pay."
"Vengeance Miss Parker?" Jarod chided.
"Justice!" She caught his eyes and asked caustically, "Isn’t that what you call it when you do it?"
Silence again filled the room. "So you’re going back to the Center," Jarod stated sadly. "You don’t have to go back. You could go and make a new life for yourself; find a new purpose for yourself. Don’t give the Center another minute of your life."
Parker shook her head. "I have a purpose," she said resolutely. "What about you, Jarod? You’ve found your family, you’ve found your answers. Are you finally just going to disappear?" She felt a sudden heaviness at the thought that she might never see him again.
"I found my mother and sister and lost them again. I found a brother that I didn’t even know that I had only to have him die in my arms. I located my father and had to send him away. I don’t have my family. I have to make sure that Project Genesis is shut down. I have to insure that they will never create another child to use; and then there’s Project Alpha. My father was looking for information on Project Alpha." He tiredly rubbed his eyes before continuing. "The Center is in the middle of it all."
"So, we’re back at the beginning with nothing changed: me in the Center and you on the outside taunting me."
Jarod reached over and tentatively took Parker’s free hand. "You’re wrong, Parker - everything is different."
The End
(and on to season 4)
STATIC AND FLUX
by Penny
Blue Cove,
Delaware
The single light glared angrily from behind its metal cage. The room was small, windowless and the walls an unrelieved gray on which black shadows would have shown had there been anything in the room to cast them. The bed was a single, uncovered mattress lying on the cold floor. A toilet hugged one wall with no concession to privacy. Beside it stood a simple sink, bare plumbing visible beneath it. The only bit of color was the red power light of the camera that was bolted to the ceiling in the far corner of the room. It was placed where it had the best view of the room and anyone who would enter or try to leave it. The iris whirred softly as it focused on Sydney as he entered, its single eye tracking his progress as he slowly walked to the huddled man who sat on the floor beneath it, the only spot in the tiny room where its gaze could not reach.
"Jarod," Sydney said softly as he squatted down beside him.
Jarod finally raised his head which allowed Sydney to see the large purpling bruises scattered across his bare chest and the side of his face. Next he noticed the shackles around his ankles. The chain looked to be about a foot in length. The Center was making sure that their Pretender would not be running from them again.
"My God Jarod, what did they do to you?"
Jarod shrugged. "Some sweepers and I had a disagreement about my fashion sense." He sadly looked down at the dull gray cotton pants he was wearing; they were his only article of clothing and looked like the bottom half of a suit of surgical scrubs. He silently mourned the loss of his black leather jacket and what that loss represented. "They won." Jarod studied his old mentor a few seconds before asking the one question whose answer mattered to him. "Sydney, how’s Miss Parker? It’s been two days and none of the guards who bring in the food will talk to me."
Sydney straightened himself and smoothed his jacket; squatting was not a comfortable position for a man of his age. "She’s going to be fine. The bullet missed anything vital but the Center doctor said that the blood loss would have killed her had it not been so expertly stopped. You saved her life."
Jarod slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding. He was glad that she would be OK, even if it did cost him his hard-won
freedom. Had he left her and she had died, he would not have been able to live with himself.
"Mr. Parker is very grateful," Sydney added.
Jarod cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Grateful enough to open the door and look the other way?"
Sydney gave him a look that told him without words how unrealistic he was being. "Grateful enough to put me back in charge of The Pretender project rather than Raines and Lyle. Needless to say, they were not pleased."
"I’m sorry, Sydney," Jarod said dropping his head again in fatigue, "but I won’t work for the Center again, not even for you. I promised myself that I would never let them exploit me again and I meant it."
Sydney look around the room again trying to find somewhere to sit. The room was more sparsely furnished than a prison cell. He moved to a wall and leaned against it. "Jarod, I’m not asking you to do any sims but would you at least take some tests for me. The Triumvirate wants to see how your experiences on the outside have affected your abilities and they want you to cooperate in taking a full physical." He paused while trying to gauge his pretender’s reaction to the request. "Just think about working with me on this; buy yourself some time to consider what would be in your best interest."
Jarod shook his head slowly, as if the effort were almost too much for him. "I was a hostage negotiator with the New Orleans police department for a couple of weeks last year, Sydney. I don’t think that you knew that. One of the first things that you have to do when negotiating is to get the other person to agree to some small concession. You use that as a springboard to get him to agree to larger and larger concessions until finally you get what you want." He looked with quiet determination into Sydney’s eyes. "I won’t cooperate Sydney. I’m sorry."
Sydney stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. He had known that Jarod would be difficult. "I understand." He paused before adding, "You look tired. They told me you were refusing to eat."
"I don’t seem to have much of an appetite."
"Jarod, believe it or not I have your best interest at heart so trust me when I tell you this: if you don’t eat, they will strap you down and force-feed you. Please, don’t subject yourself to that indignity," Sydney pleaded.
Jarod sighed, "I’m not so na‘ve now Sydney. I understand the possible consequences of what I do. I’ve been running the various scenarios in my head for the last two days." Jarod dropped his head. "Thanks for coming by Sydney but I’m tired now," he said, dismissing the psychiatrist.
Sydney looked at the ceiling while he tried to think of something else to say. His mind remained blank. He turned and walked back to the door, the soft whir of the camera indicating that it was following his movement. He lifted his hand to knock so the guard on the opposite side of the door would let him out.
"Sydney!"
He turned back, "Yes, Jarod."
"Would you please tell Miss Parker that I’m glad she’s all right."
Sydney nodded, "Yes, yes I will."
"Thank you."
Sydney faced the door and knocked. It was immediately opened from the other side and he stepped out leaving the lonely man alone again.
****************************************
A dark figure pushed open the grill of a ventilation shaft and nimbly dropped to the floor. Keeping to the shadows he made his way to an office, jimmied the lock and ducked inside. Muttering to himself he crouched in a corner and waited.
Miss Parker hated inactivity. That was why she was headed to her Center office instead of resting at home. Two days before, she had been shot in the back with a bullet meant for her father. However, the bullet hadn’t actually done much damage and her blood loss had been replaced by a couple of transfusions. Her left arm and shoulder were held immobile by a sling and the pain was controlled by a few tablets of Darvon. In fact, for a woman that just a few days before had stood at death’s door, she was in remarkably good shape....and remarkably restless. She walked through the deserted Center halls and arrived at her office. The door was ajar. She immediately became cautious and then angry. She threw the door open and quickly flipped on the light. "What the hell do you think....."
"AAAeeeee!" Angelo shrieked, holding his hands over his ears.
"Angelo?" Parker asked, quickly coming all the way into the room and shutting her door behind her. "What’s wrong? Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.
"Hurt!" Angelo cried in anguish.
"Where? Where are you hurt?" Parker asked, rushing to his side.
"No, no," he shook his head. "Hurt!" He reached out and gently took her good hand. "Hurt," he said as if that one word explained everything.
Parker thought perhaps he was talking about her wound and tried to reassured him. "Yes, Angelo, I was hurt but I’m better now. I’m going to be fine."
Angelo dropped her hand and shook his head. "Not hurt here," he said touching his shoulder, "hurt here." He placed his hand over his heart. "Hurt. Friend hurt."
Suddenly it became clear to Parker. "Jarod, you mean that Jarod is hurt."
"Hurt, hurt here," he said continuing to point to his heart. "Fear, pain, loneliness," he explained. "Daughter make better," he pleaded.
"Angelo, I’m sorry but there’s nothing that I can do," she said with real regret in her voice.
"Daughter make better," he persisted.
"Look, I don’t even know where he’s being held..."
Angelo pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt and stuffed it into her good hand. He then turned and bolted from the room. Miss Parker followed after him as quickly as she could but by the time she reached the hall, no one could be seen. She returned to her office and shut the door before opening the slip. "SL-27," she read aloud.
****************************************
The Parker name and a good glare could intimidate any Center guard. It took Parker longer to find the correct room on SL-27 than it did to persuade the guard on duty out side the door to allow her entrance. He quickly checked his monitor to make sure that Jarod wasn’t near the door before he swiped his card key in the slot, deactivating the magnetic lock.
Jarod heard the door open and looked up from where he sat beneath the camera in the far corner of the room. His heart raced
momentarily when he recognized the lithe, fashionably clad form of Miss Parker. He immediately noted the sling and her slightly pale coloring. Still, she was alive! And she was here? Why would she come, what reason would she have? Bitterness leapt to his tongue. "Well the Center has me back. Come to gloat?"
Miss Parker walked to the center of the small cell and looked around with disdain. She then focused her steady gaze at the man
whom she had been blaming for turning her life upside down. "Actually, I came to say thank you for saving my life."
Jarod was taken aback and immediately felt ashamed. "I’m sorry," he said as he struggled to his feet, the chains of his shackles
clinking on the concrete floor as he moved. "You’re not catching me at my best."
"I can see that," Parker said, taking in the bruises and his unkempt appearance. "You look like hell."
Jarod gave her a grim smile. "Well, when in Rome." He nodded toward the sling. "Are you all right?"
Parker walked closer, looking more carefully at the bruises and abrasions on his pale skin, "I should be asking you that."
Jarod shrugged to dismiss her concern. He had more important things to talk about than his condition. "My father didn’t kill your
mother, Parker. Fenigor was wrong."
Parker nodded minutely in agreement. "I know. I know everything now about her death and why she died. She was going to rescue you, take you away, so they killed her."
Jarod looked away. Was it his fault that her mother had died? What could he say to her? Did she hate him for something over which he had no control?
As if she had read his mind, Parker continued, "Jarod, I’m not blaming you. I think my mother knew what she was doing and the possible consequences. She believed that saving the children was important and was willing to risk her life for that cause. I know exactly who to blame for her death. I know who pulled the trigger."
Miss Parker talking about the children reminded Jarod of a conversation he had with the boy, the child that the Center had created from his DNA. "Speaking of the children, I talked with the boy. He told me that you were kind to him. I wanted to thank you for that. I don’t think he has seen much kindness in his life."
Parker smiled sadly. "He reminded me of a boy I knew a long time ago. That boy was my best friend but somehow, with everything that had happened over the years, I forgot that."
"My only friend," Jarod said softly, "other than Angelo."
"Jarod..."
Whatever she might have been going to say was lost when the guard opened the door. "Miss Parker, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave now."
She turned and glared at the sweeper. "I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave," she said with ice in her voice.
The burly guard blinked quickly as if at a loss for how to respond. He then remembered his original purpose. "I’m sorry, ma’am, but the property has to be evaluated and prepared for transport."
"Transport?" she asked. "Who gave an order for transport?"
"Well, that would be me," Lyle said as he stepped through the door.
"Why a transport order?" Miss Parker asked in a tone that suggested more than just idle curiosity. "The simulation facilities are here in Blue Cove."
"Jarod knows the lay out of the Center too well. He’s already escaped once and seems able just to come and go as he pleases.
Plus, the powers that be suspect that he may have had someone at the Center helping him. If he’s isolated, he’ll be easier to
handle." Lyle talked about Jarod as if he wasn’t present and listening.
"Hmm, and away from any oversight," Miss Parker added.
"Yes, there is that," Lyle added smugly. "I’ll be handling all the details personally."
Jarod backed against the wall, his hands involuntarily curling into fists. Lyle’s appearance wasn’t unexpected, but Jarod hadn’t quite prepared himself for the presence of the man who had tried to kill him and had murdered his brother, Kyle. He hated Mr. Lyle, a.k.a. Bobby Bowman, and was certain the hate was mutual. "He’s lying," Jarod growled. "Sydney told me that he was still in charge of my program."
"That’s true," Lyle said as he walked past his sister and toward the pretender. "Sydney is in charge of the project. However, the
Triumvirate believes that your time on the outside has contaminated your objectivity. They want the amount of contamination
determined and eliminated before the project resumes." He stood in front of Jarod, just out of range of the pretender’s arms and
confident in his ability to thwart any attack that the shackled and debilitated man might launch but close enough that Jarod caught a flash of gold inside of Lyle’s suit jacket. "They also want you more, oh, biddable. So you see, Sydney is in charge of the project but I am in charge of your assessment and retraining."
"I’ll never cooperate with you," Jarod snarled defiantly.
Lyle smiled, stepped back away from Jarod and turned to his sister. "Retraining could last indefinitely, Sis. I might be away for a
while but since you’ll be going back at Corporate soon, I doubt that we would be spending much time together anyway."
Lyle smiled and began removing his glove, revealing his mutilated hand. "Yes, everyone will be where they belong: Jarod back at the Center, you at Corporate and me, I’ll be on my way up."
Jarod chose that moment to launch himself at Lyle, knocking him to the ground and grappling with him. The guard immediately
grabbed Jarod and pulled him off. He brutally hit the pretender in the stomach, knocking him back against the wall. Jarod curled there as if to protect himself from further assault but was actually hiding his prize.
Miss Parker helped her brother to his feet. She didn’t check to see if he was injured or offer sympathy. Instead she shook her head at him. "What did you expect, thumbing your nose at him like that. Oh, sorry, I forgot." She walked to the door and, without turning around, added, "Remember Jarod is a valuable Center asset. I doubt the powers that be would be pleased if he were damaged."
Lyle watched Miss Parker leave. He wiped the blood that dribbled down his chin and looked at it in fascination. He glanced at the guard. "Hold him," he said as he advanced on the pretender.
****************************************
Sydney had been seeing to the refurbishing of Jarod’s old rooms. Finally finished, he was walking down the corridor toward his office to pick up his brief case before calling it a night and going home. He noticed a light on in Miss Parker’s office and changed direction. The door was slightly ajar. With one hand on the knob he slowly opened the door while announcing his presence by lightly knocking. On entering, he saw Miss Parker at her desk, wiping at the skin beneath her eyes; eyes that seemed to be shiny and reddened in the dim light.
He was concerned. "Miss Parker, are you all right?" He stepped further into the room. "Have you been crying?"
Parker cleared her throat. "Of course not!" She straightened herself and pulled her dignity around her like a sweater. "What are you doing here so late? Consulting with Raines on the most recent techniques in mind control?"
Sydney was taken aback. "Parker, what are you talking about?"
"About what you’re doing to Jarod."
"I’m trying to keep him alive!"
"With Lyle’s helping hand? I thought you cared about Jarod," she retorted.
Sydney was confused about the direction the conversation was taking. He felt as though he were missing some important piece of information. "What are you talking about, Parker?"
"Does relocation, assessment and retraining, sound familiar?"
"No, it doesn’t."
"Then you know nothing about Lyle taking Jarod away from the Center facilities?"
"Parker, your father assured me that I would again be in charge of the Pretender project. That’s where I’ve been, preparing Jarod’s old rooms."
"Well, Syd, it doesn’t look like he’s going to need them."
****************************************
Jarod suffered through Lyle’s beating stoically. His lack of screaming seeming to feed Lyle’s anger so that he only hit him harder. When he was finally left alone, he slowly crawled back to his place beneath the camera and placed his back against the wall. He needed to rest and regain some strength.
A short while later, he retrieved his treasure from the waist band of his pants. He regarded the pen hopefully. First he bent back the clip until it snapped from the pen. He then opened the pen and took out the ink reserve. He laid these carefully beside the wall. He stood and went to the toilet, taking some paper and using it to wipe his forehead; palming some to take with him to the sink. Aware of the camera following his movement, he went to the sink and turned on the water. He cupped his hands beneath it and appeared to drink. He then shuffled to his place against the wall. He lay the sopping wet paper beside him and placed the ink cartridge on it. The ink began to seep into the wet paper, coloring it black. He then took up the clip and inserted it into the lock of his shackles. Moving it carefully and with patience he felt the lock click open, freeing his feet. He removed the shackles and held it in his hand. He wrapped the chain around his hand. He picked up the wet wad of blackened paper.
His preparations completed, Jarod stood, took a deep breath, and took one step forward before falling on his face. One hand was hidden beneath him and the other arm was flung out as if he had tried to catch himself. The wet paper was beneath it. The pressure of his arm squeezed the wad and black water spread around his hand. On a black and white camera he hoped it would look sufficiently like blood to get the guard’s attention. It was a gamble but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The guard was routinely monitoring the video feed from the cell. He was bored. There usually wasn’t much to see as the occupant of the small, dreary room went to great pains to sit in the camera’s blind spot. Suddenly he saw the prisoner’s body fall forward and blood spread out from his wrist. He panicked. If anything happened, he would be held accountable. He quickly called medical and then rushed into the room to check on the captive.
Jarod heard the magnetic lock decouple and hurriedly stood. He ran to the door getting there just as it began to open. He pushed hard. The guard, not expecting the move, lost his balance. Jarod rushed from the room and struck the sweeper with his
chain-wrapped fist, knocking him unconscious. He pull the man into the room, shut the door and ran down the hall. A ventilation shaft grill suddenly fell from the wall ahead of him and a hand reached down to help him into the bowels of the building.
****************************************
Sydney became more and more agitated as he listened to Parker’s account of the conversation she had had with her brother in
Jarod’s cell. When she told him about Jarod’s attack, he looked at her in disbelief. His mind was racing, discarding one suggestion after another. "I’ll call your father. He never mentioned that Jarod would be moved and certainly never mentioned that Lyle would be involved with Jarod in any fashion."
"I’ve already tried to call him." Miss Parker had walked to the front of her desk and now sat perched on the edge, absently rubbing her neck where the sling cut across it. "It seems that Brigette was so upset by his kidnapping that he decided to take her away on an impromptu vacation for a few days." She looked Sydney straight in the eye and added harshly, "He didn’t even bother to tell me himself, Syd. I only found out when I tried to call him after seeing Lyle."
"There has to be something that we can do, Parker!"
Parker shook her head in resignation. "What’s the point? He probably isn’t even in the Center any longer."
Suddenly klaxons began sounding. Parker rushed to the door and threw it open. Sweepers were running helter-skelter through the corridors, urged on by the strident shrilling of the alarm. She turned back to Sydney, her mouth open as if to say something only to stop in confusion when she saw him. Sydney had placed his hands in his pants’ pockets and was rocking back on his heels, smiling contentedly at the ceiling.
"I think you’re correct, Parker. Jarod probably isn’t at the Center any longer."
Parker tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Sydney?"
Sydney strolled to the door. "Parker, it’s getting late. I’m sure it must be difficult to drive with your injury. Why don’t you let me take you home?"
****************************************
Crawling through the ventilation shafts sent a wave of pain through Jarod’s side. The sharp pain increased in intensity whenever he drew a deep breath. Abstractly he began the mental exercise of determining the difference between a mild fracture and a broken rib. The distraction helped to distance the pain. In truth, cracked or broken it didn’t matter. He had to endure the discomfort and make it to the exit as soon as possible. After they searched the Center grounds they would begin to search the surrounding area. If he wasn’t well away by that time, he would be recaptured and if recaptured, Lyle would make certain that he could not escape again.
It took much longer to get to the point where the shaft vented above ground than Jarod remembered it taking the last time he had escaped by this route. When he finally pulled himself up and over the edge, the adrenaline rush of his escape was beginning to ebb and all he could do was lay on the tall grass and try to catch his breath.
****************************************
Sydney’s car was stopped at the gate and not even Parker’s presence kept the guards from thoroughly searching the vehicle. After several minutes they were allowed to proceed. Sydney drove slowly down the access road in the growing twilight. When he judged that he was far enough from the gate, he switched on his headlights. Several seconds later he began flicking his high lights off and on.
"Syd, what..."
"Please, Parker," Sydney interrupted her, "I need to concentrate: short, long, short, pause, short, pause, short, short, long, short." He had a look of intense concentration on his face as if trying to recall some long-forgotten bit of trivia. "Damn it, I just can’t remember." He hit the steering wheel in frustration. Then a light dawned in his eyes. "Yes, that’s it: short, short, long, pause, long, long, short, pause, short."
He waited a second and then started the sequence over again.
Jarod had managed to pull himself into a sitting position. From his vantage point beside the vent, he could see the Center in the not so far distance and had an excellent view of the access road. The road was only traveled by Center personnel until it joined with the state route a few miles away. He would need to walk to the Interstate. He smiled grimly to himself. He had no transportation, no money, no shoes and precious little clothing. He was injured, dehydrated and hungry. Still, he was free, if only for the moment.
Contemplating the road he noticed a lone car leaving the Center. There was only one car, which meant it probably wasn’t a sweeper team starting to look for him. The driver began to flash his lights. Jarod looked up and down the road but could see no reason for the driver to be calling such attention to himself. Then he noticed the pattern of the flashes: short, long, short (R); short (E); short, short, long, short (F); short, short, long (U). Jarod stood and began stumbling down the gentle incline toward the road before he had finished deciphering the next letter. He urged himself to go faster. The pain in his side was intense but he had to reach the road before the car passed.
A figure stumbling into the road in front of him caused Sydney to quickly brake and jump out of the car seemingly before it even
came to a complete stop. He grabbed Jarod by the arm and helped him hastily into the back seat. He was back in the car and
speeding down the road again in less than fifteen seconds. Miss Parker had difficulty hiding her surprise but shut her mouth quickly when she saw Jarod slump in the back seat. His pain was obvious.
Keeping his eyes on the narrow road, Sydney urgently questioned the man who was like a son to him. "Jarod, are you all right?"
No response.
"Jarod?" he said more urgently while trying to snake his head around to look into the back seat.
"Don’t bother, Syd. Your boy has passed out," Parker informed him. "Let’s just get him to my place."
****************************************
Parker stood on her porch watching the slowly rising bright moon. She had helped Sydney half-carry Jarod into her bedroom and had then excused herself to open a can of soup while Sydney examined Jarod’s injuries. She had heated the soup in the mircowave and had left it to cool on the counter. She had glanced at her closed bedroom door and then had gone outside to wait. The quiet moonlight brought back too many memories. She heard the screen door open and out of the corner of her eye watched Syd approach. He stood silently behind her, watching her watch the night sky. "Thomas used to love looking at the stars," she reminisced.
"I’m sorry I never had the chance to get to know him, Parker. I’m sure he was a very special person."
"Yes," she agreed quietly. "Yes, he was." She turned to face the psychiatrist, the softness of a second before replaced with a more business-like attitude. "How’s Jarod?"
"Pretty much as you’d expect. He assures me that his only major problem is a broken rib. I need something to stabilize it so that it won’t pierce his lung. Do you have a bandage?"
Parker nodded and led the way back into the house. She noticed that the soup was no longer on the counter. She also heard the sound of her shower. She rummaged in a drawer beneath her cabinets and came up with three long bandages, wound into tight little balls. She handed these to Sydney and watched him start to retreat to her bedroom. "Syd, wait."
Sydney turned.
"There are some Darvon and a few other pain medications in my medicine cabinet. Feel free to help yourself to anything he needs."
"Thank you," Syd said gratefully. Parker had not always been so considerate of another person’s pain. Perhaps the walls around her heart were coming down. Thomas must have been a very special person indeed.
Sydney started back to the bedroom. Miss Parker’s phone rang. It stopped him and he looked at it almost fearfully.
Miss Parker pointed her chin at her bedroom to indicate for him to go on and then reached for the receiver. "What!" she said in her typical exasperated telephone voice. She listened. "No, I’m not coming back in tonight. I was shot a few days ago, remember." She was quiet a few more minutes. "Well, that’s not my problem. Like you said Lyle, you’re in charge. You find him." She returned the receiver to its cradle with a loud and satisfying crack.
The bedroom door, correction, her bedroom door was still closed. Parker stared at it for several long minutes feeling vaguely irritated until the ache in her shoulder demanded her attention. She glanced at the clock and realized that it had been several hours since she had taken her last pain pill. She started purposefully toward her bedroom and medicine cabinet but then stopped and reversed her direction. She couldn’t drink while taking narcotics but since the pill had worn off, a few fingers of Scotch would dull the pain nicely. It was difficult opening the bottle but where there was a will, she could always find a way.
She swirled the amber liquid around in the glass before taking a long sip. The alcohol burned her throat and stomach then settled into a steady warmth that left her tired mind tingling. She looked again at the door to her bedroom. They had been in there long enough! She strode to the door and opened it.
Jarod sat on her bed with his arms up and his hands behind his head. He looked like he was about to be frisked. He had a white bath towel wrapped around his waist, modestly covering everything that needed to be covered. She noticed first the towel and then that he had shaved. She made a mental note to toss her razor. Sydney was just finishing tucking the end of the last bandage under and making sure it was secure. Both men looked at her when she opened the door.
"Stick ëem up," she deadpanned.
Jarod’s startled looked subsided to one of wry amusement. "I surrender. You’ve got me covered."
Parker looked pointedly at the towel. "Not by much."
Jarod looked down and blushed.
Parker smiled to herself that she could embarrass him. He may have been out in the world for three years but that had not made him worldly.
Jarod recovered quickly. He threw a quick glance at Sydney and watched the older man try to hide his amusement. "The airline
seems to have misplaced my luggage," Jarod said with a half smile.
She gave him an appraising stare before moving to her closet and rummaging in the back. She turned and threw Jarod a plaid
workshirt and a pair of jeans. "Put these on."
Jarod caught them out of the air, though the sudden movement sent a sharp pain through his side. He immediately realized whose clothes these were and the gesture touched him. "Thank you, Parker," he said sincerely.
Sydney and Parker both left to give the pretender some privacy.
A short while later Jarod exited the bedroom. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, that plaid shirt - for a second Parker’s heart saw what it wanted to see. Pulled unwillingly back to reality, she suddenly realized just how similar Thomas and Jarod looked. It disturbed her for a reason that she couldn’t name. There were differences though; Jarod was taller and more broad than Tommy had been. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up and it stretched too tightly across his shoulders.
Jarod scanned the room. "Where’s Sydney?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard an engine rev to life.
"He said he needed to leave. He’ll be back tomorrow morning." Parker was seated on her sofa. She had taken off her shoes and sat with her legs curled under her, undoubtedly wrinkling her silk suit. Her empty glass sat on the end table.
Several minutes passed in silence. Neither knew quite what to say. Neither knew where to start. Parker stared at her hands. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. It would have been so much easier if she still smoked. She could have focused her attention on the cigarette, inhaled deeply to fill up the pause in the conversation or waved it around to make her point. She had quit smoking and didn’t know what to do with her hands. It made it harder to talk.
The quiet night was interrupted by the sound of an engine as a car traveled in the night. Jarod startled at the sound and looked
around the room for possible escape routes. He visibly relaxed as the noise crested and then faded into the distance.
Parker noticed the reaction. "Did you think I called for a team of sweepers to come pick you up?"
Jarod cocked his head slightly as he assessed her. "The possibility did cross my mind."
"Well, I didn’t." She paused as if in consideration. "I won’t."
Jarod sat down uncomfortably across from her. "Why not?"
"What?" Parker asked as if she couldn’t believe what her had asked of her.
Jarod repeated himself. "Why not? You’ve been chasing me for three years. I’ve given you information about yourself, about your mother. I’ve never lied to you, I’ve helped you when I could - but you still kept on coming. Still hunted me. Why not turn me in now? Sydney’s not here. He wouldn’t know. Why not?"
Parker looked at him a minute and then shrugged. "There was something that I thought that I wanted and I did what I thought I had to do to get it."
"And," Jarod prompted.
"And now, I don’t want the same thing." Parker’s voice became hard, "I’ve learned too much about my family, about deep Center secrets." She paused. "When I finally realized what I really wanted, it was too late. The Center saw to that. They took Thomas and before that they took my mother. Now, they’re going to have to pay."
"Vengeance Miss Parker?" Jarod chided.
"Justice!" She caught his eyes and asked caustically, "Isn’t that what you call it when you do it?"
Silence again filled the room. "So you’re going back to the Center," Jarod stated sadly. "You don’t have to go back. You could go and make a new life for yourself; find a new purpose for yourself. Don’t give the Center another minute of your life."
Parker shook her head. "I have a purpose," she said resolutely. "What about you, Jarod? You’ve found your family, you’ve found your answers. Are you finally just going to disappear?" She felt a sudden heaviness at the thought that she might never see him again.
"I found my mother and sister and lost them again. I found a brother that I didn’t even know that I had only to have him die in my arms. I located my father and had to send him away. I don’t have my family. I have to make sure that Project Genesis is shut down. I have to insure that they will never create another child to use; and then there’s Project Alpha. My father was looking for information on Project Alpha." He tiredly rubbed his eyes before continuing. "The Center is in the middle of it all."
"So, we’re back at the beginning with nothing changed: me in the Center and you on the outside taunting me."
Jarod reached over and tentatively took Parker’s free hand. "You’re wrong, Parker - everything is different."
The End
(and on to season 4)
