Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thank you for the reviews. See, good reviewers get rewarded with a quick update. lol Just a warning, some scenes might be disturbing to sensitive readers.

All you had ever offered us is pain.

Unknown area

It had almost been too easy, Lyle thought. He had enjoyed his time with Gemini and the fun had almost forced him to stay longer and watch the boy spiral towards his own destruction. He had not thought that Gemini would have allowed himself to become so vulnerable but then again, what he had forced the boy to do at the warehouse must have really made an impression. Lyle grinned at the memory, flexing his leather clad hand.

Oh, it had been fun.

Breathing deeply the fresh mountain air, he returned his attention back towards the man kneeling in front of him. The sense of power he felt at having the pretender under his control was immense. The satisfaction was enormously gratifying and more so because he knew that Jarod hated not being in control.

This would be fun.

Circling his kneeling property, he took the time to admire the pretender's upper body. He was tanned a dark brown that was easy on the eye. The surfing had moulded his already well-developed muscles, toning them to an exceptional level. He grinned ferall when he noticed the increased discomfort that Jarod showed at staying in the kneeling position. Stepping forward, he enjoyed the fear that showed briefly on Jarod’s face when his hand made contact with flesh. Moving slowly, he clipped the leash onto the collar, enjoying the quickening of Jarod's breath that caressed his hand. Bending down, he pulled the pretender into a standing position. With the leash in one hand, he shoved Jarod forward.

The pretender stumbled, unsure of his footing. His muscles tensed into tight knots of fear while the uncertainty of where he was being led to increased with each step he took. Every time he slowed down, tentatively pushing one foot forward, he was pulled sharply forward. He would lose his balance, a barely controlled stumble preventing him from falling. Each time that happened, the collar around his neck would tighten, the prongs digging painfully into his flesh. He could do nothing but hope that he would still be alive when evening came.

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St. Vincent’s Hospital

J was seated on his bed, sitting cross-legged while his parents stood at the foot-end. At his request, Emily had left. Dr Brown was seated discreetly in the corner, keeping an eye on the tense boy. J wasn’t looking at any of them.

“J, when you’re ready?” Dr Brown said softly. He didn’t miss the increased tension his words created. He was worried. He wasn’t sure that having J’s parents here was the right thing to do. But J had made that choice. J wiped his face discreetly and nodded. He glanced once at his father and then looked away.

“J, what did Lyle do?”

J flinched. His father’s voice was full of anger and in his mind it was directed at him. He was the one who had done everything wrong.

Traitor

Lyle’s voice continued to taunt him even though the man had left him this morning. After he told him exactly where to find Jarod. The fact that Lyle might have known beforehand didn’t register with J. His throat was tight and he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hugging himself in an effort to bring some comfort, he hunched inwards.

“Do…do you remember when I phoned you…from the warehouse,” he started brokenly, not opening his eyes or changing his position. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in his father’s eyes. “Lyle got the number…from me.” He whispered the last words, and after taking a deep breath, he continued, “I didn’t want to give it to him but he…he had this girl and he threatened to…to hurt her if I didn’t.”

“Son, it’s ok. We understand. You did the right thing to give him the number. It helped us to find you.”

J shook his head. “No. You don’t…understand. I…I did something…with him.”

Major Charles didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to imagine what Lyle had forced his son to do or the abuse he must have received. It had been bad enough to carry the guilt of Jarod’s incarceration at the Centre. Margaret squeezed his hand in support and he drew strength from there.

“J, it’s not your fault. Lyle…”

J opened his eyes, staring with intensity at his dad that it was unsettling. “It is my fault. You don’t understand.”

Charles said nothing, meeting his son’s gaze unflinchingly. J looked away, shifting his eyes to stare out the window. He didn’t know if he had the strength to continue.

“Help me to understand, son. Please. We love you and we will always love you, not matter what.”

J swallowed visible, closing his eyes briefly. “I…,” he stopped, tears flowing freely, making twin paths down his cheeks and dripping unheeded on his shirt. Taking a shuddering breath, he wiped at the wetness. “I helped Lyle to…,” he trailed again to silence, gathering his waning courage.

Margaret and Charles didn’t move, seeming to sense that J would bolt and never speak about it again. The atmosphere was tense and filled with dread. J continued to wipe the tears, still staring out the window but he wasn’t in the room. He was reliving his nightmare with Lyle.

“Lyle…he had this game…he wanted me to play…and I did.” When J stopped for another breath, the silence was almost unbearable. He filled the stillness again in broken whispers, “I had to…choose,” he broke down, a load sob escaping before he managed to contain it. He took several big gulps of air before he felt sufficiently composed to continue. “I had to choose…where Lyle…would cut next. He started…at the hands…oh God…what have I done.” He dropped his head in hands, wiping his face, trying to get rid of the tears but they wouldn’t stop. He still didn’t look at anyone in the room. It was as if he could distance himself from who it was he was telling it too. “He…he cut her left thumb off first because I chose it.”

Margaret’s hand gripped her husband’s tightly, almost painfully while J continued. “I tried to…get the ropes…off but it was…too tight. Her screams are…still inside…my head.” He started to ramble, his thoughts jumping from one act to the next as he described them. “He promised he’ll let her go…and he did…in the end. After he had cut her…heart out…he…” J could feel the bile rising and he was unable to stop the reflex action. He grabbed the bin standing next to his bed, purging his body until only dry heaves remained. Wiping his mouth, he took a ragged breath. “He cut it…into strips…and he…” He couldn’t even say it. He remembered his disgust and horror and what Lyle had done. He can still see the gleam in the man’s eyes as he consumed the pieces of flesh. He shivered, drawing his knees up to his body, holding them tight.

His parents stepped around the bed and his father sat down beside J, pulling him closely against his chest. He was trying hard not to let the horror of what he had heard to show. He didn’t say a word as he held his son close, stroking his hair.

“He said that I’m a coward. That…that she…died because…I chose it. That I’m…just like him.”

Charles kissed his son on the head. “You can never be like Lyle, even if you tried, J. You are the bravest person I know. After what you had endured under Raines and then under Lyle, you chose to live, to continue. That takes courage, my son. And she died because Lyle killed her and nothing you could have done or said would have either prevented it or encouraged him to do it.”

J leaned against his father’s chest, feeling the strong hart beat. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be comforted. A burden had been lifted and though he still carried the scars of his encounter, he knew that with time he would be all right. After a while, the Major broke the silence.

“What happened yesterday, J?”

J sighed, not wanting to break the contact he had. “Lyle picked me up…he said that if…if I told you about him…that he would kill you…in front of me. That…that he would make…me pull the trigger.”

“What did he want?” Charles asked as anger for Lyle’s manipulation rose. He would kill that son of a bitch slowly when he found him.

J didn’t answer. His muscles in his shoulder tensed further as he drew further into himself. He didn’t want to tell his dad about all the words that Lyle had used, all the things he had said so believably.

“Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh J…How could we ever do that. You’re our son.”

“I told Lyle where to find Jarod. I told him where my brother lived and I gave him up. All this is my fault. I’m a traitor. I’m nothing better than him.” J whispered. He wanted to leave the safety of his father’s arms; he wanted so desperately to run. He turned, eyeing his father’s face for any hint of disappointment or disgust. When he found none but compassion and love he said harshly, “Don’t you understand? I told Lyle…I told….”

“J, stop it. Lyle all ready knew where Jarod lived. He just wanted you to believe his lies. Think about it.”

“I still told him.”

Charles looked helplessly at his wife and then at Dr Brown. He didn’t know how to answer that statement. Dr Brown nodded and he accepted that the psychiatrist will work with J. They still needed to find out if J knew where Lyle would have gone and he didn’t want to ask J but he had no choice.

“J, did Lyle say anything about where he would take Jarod.”

J shook his head. “He took me took the old Lawson place. I don’t think he will still be there.”

Charles nodded when his wife left to tell Miss Parker. He stayed, hoping that now that J had opened his soul that his son was truly on his way to healing. He could only hope and pray that between them that they would be able to undo what Lyle had done.

It had been a long, exhausting trek for Jarod, made more so because of the way he was secured. The rope cut into his wrists and his body cramped with every step he took. His discomfort might not have gone unnoticed but they went unrelieved. Jarod was fit but he was no match for what he was put through that day. When the breeze turned cool and the sun that had warmed his skin was less potent he could barely walk.

He was disorientated and fighting a losing battle not to show his fear. He stumbled forwards, trying not to pull too much on the leash. He was afraid that if he fell, his captor would not stop but will just drag his body after him. He tried to swallow but the saliva in his mouth had long ago dried up. He breathed a sigh of relief when a firm hand on his arm stopped his forward stumble and brought him to a halt.

His leg muscles trembled and it was all he could do not to collapse onto the ground. Sweat had dried on his body leaving an uncomfortable tingling. He tensed when the hand pushed down. His captor seemed to understand and the grip became a steadying hand. He was moved into a kneeling position again, a warning hand on his shoulder reminding him not to move. His throat was on fire where the prongs had dug in. His body craved water as he tried again to swallow. His lips were dry and cracked and bleeding. He pushed against the rag with his tongue, hoping to relieve some of his discomfort. It didn’t work, like all the times before he only increased his own discomfort.

He felt movement and then a hand removed the gag. Coughing, he moved his mouth to try and lessen the feeling of numbness. A spout was pushed against his lips and he gratefully took a sip. The water was low warm and tasted metallic but he had never drunk anything better. He took another gulp and then the spout was removed and he swallowed air.

Licking his lips, he whispered hoarsely, “Please,” leaning slightly forward to where he hoped the bottle was held. He had not meant to beg but his craving was so intense, he couldn’t ignore it. He needed more water. Instead the gag was replaced and he was filled with disappointment. Letting his head drop tiredly, he tried to ignore the tears that threatened to escape his closed lids. Shifting in the hope to abate his twitching leg muscles, he received a blow to his ribs. Hunching inwards, he tried to protect his body. He grunted as another blow landed before he was forced back into his previous position. He focused on what Parker would be doing; imaging her smile and feel of her body next to his as he tried to ignore the spasms that started to shoot through his leg muscles.

Gathering wood, Lyle kept an eye on the kneeling pretender. He had readied a circle of stones on one of his earlier excursions, the ground cleared and ready to become a new fire pit. Dumping the wood, he started to set the fire. He smiled when he noticed the goose bumps on Jarod's exposed chest. It was time the pretender learned to appreciate his creature comforts. He remembers gleefully the way Jarod had begged for more water. It was about time the pretender experienced the same things he did when he was held in the bowels of the Centre. It was only right.

“Nothing. He’s gone.”

Charles swore under his breath. Glancing at his son, making sure he was still asleep, he closed the door quietly.

“What about the Centre. Wouldn’t Lyle have taken Jarod there?”

“Broots had already searched the mainframe. It seems my brother has gone AWOL. He could be anywhere by now.”

“Is there nothing we can go on?”

“Wait. Miss…Parker, what about the hunting cabin where Lyle had taken the girl.”

She looked at Broots, remembering the reason why they had been looking into the cabin. It sounded feasible. Not a lot of people knew about it and especially the Centre. It was a place to start and who knows; maybe Lady Luck will be with them this time.

Jarod tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. The last time he remembered eating was breakfast with Sydney and Parker. It seemed a lifetime ago. He was still kneeling. His leg muscles have now gone completely numb. A cramp shot up the leg that had been fractured by Lyle almost six months ago and he gasped. Shifting slightly, he tried to ease the cramp without moving too much out of position. His attention was drawn when he smelled smoke. His captor must have started a fire and he was grateful even for the little bit of warmth he could feel from where he sat. The evening temperature was steadily dropping, cooling his body down. Some time later he smelled the rich scent of stew and his mouth watered.

Lyle watched Jarod lean slightly towards the fire. He knew it was the scent wafting from the pot that held the other's attention. Taking his plate, he filled it with the stew. He ate every last bit, enjoying the meal and knowing that Jarod was craving for the food. Clearing his plates, he went down to the stream to wash his cutlery. He took his time, enjoying the coldness of the water, knowing that he was in control.

He returned, noticing that Jarod took a sharp intake of breath. He could see the pain lines etched across the pretender’s face. He knew what was coming and he watched intently, waiting patiently. A few minutes later Jarod shifted sideways, a low moan escaping while he stretched the cramping muscle. A thin smile graced Lyle’s features as he packed the plate away. He took out a small PCP pipe, hefting it in his hand. The pipe was ideal as a punishment tool because it would leave only superficial bruising. Stepping towards the pretender, he enjoyed the brief glimpse of fear that Jarod showed when he became aware of his presence. Lyle stood and watched for a minute as the pretender struggled to move back into a kneeling position before giving up and slumping down in defeat. Lyle stepped in.

A hand pushed on his neck, forcing him forward till his head touched the ground. He squirmed underneath the grip that held him in place until the first shock of the blow on his lower back forced a muffled scream from his lips. The pain exploded like a red hot poker, spreading fingers of burning heat across his back. A second and third blow followed the first one. Each a mind numbing pain that left him gasping for breath. By the fifth he had stopped moving, the blood thundering through his ears, his back a sea of pain. He didn’t have the strength to protest when he was jerked upwards by his hair. Breathing shallowly, he focused on Parker’s face that floated in his mind’s eye. He imagined her light touch on his hurt, kissing it away.

He was pulled backwards until his back met the unforgiving bark of a tree. Ropes were treaded around his elbows. He could only manage a whimper when the rope was jerked tight, pushing his burning back into the rough bark. His captor must have been satisfied, for he felt a last pat on his arm that made him winch and then his presence was gone.

Lyle rolled out his sleeping bag close to the dying fire. Throwing a glance at Jarod, he grinned. It might take a while but the pretender will learn to do as he is told. He was so looking forward to dispensing much needed retraining. But for now, he will enjoy teaching his property the consequences of disobedience

It must have been the longest night of Jarod’s life. He had never been so cold or uncomfortable. Leaning his head against the tree, he ran simulations on ways to escape. Answers eluded him and he was too tired to continue. Shifting his body, he tried to find any kind of traction in the rope. Like all the hundreds of times previously, there was none. He had been pulled so tight against the tree that any kind of semi-movement only created more burn marks where the rope dug into his elbows. His back hurt, sending waves of pain as his muscles got no respite from being tied the way he was.

He was so tired.

His head slipped forward. He jerked awake, trying to determine where his captor was. Not sensing him didn’t decrease the tension with-in. Who was his captor and why was he being held. These questions came again and again, round and round in a circle. His breathing deepened, his head lolled forward. He finally succumbed to exhaustion, not caring anymore.