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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
part XXXIII
By Rebeckah
part XXXIII
By Rebeckah
They stumbled into the growing evening twilight; Alexander, carrying Marion over his shoulder, Miss Parker, guiding the weaving and dazed Jarod, and Catherine. The two men who’d been waiting for any sign of movement from the darkened building moved quickly in to action.
"A car should be here soon." Alexander mumbled, his attention focused on his unconscious employer, who was growing far heavier than he would have ever believed she could.
"Why not take mine?" A new voice asked amicably. "It’s pulling up right now." Mr. White smiled quietly as he gestured to the three startled refugees with his handgun.
Parker’s blue gaze narrowed as she focused longingly on the gun. Catherine’s brow furrowed with concern, and then smoothed as she fixed her mask of calm over her patrician features. Alexander just sighed. He’d known that trusting someone from the Centre would turn out to be a big mistake! And Mr. White’s limousine pulled up to the curb, a relieved and smug Mr. Raines waiting in the passenger seat by the driver.
"Do get in." White urged firmly. "The plane’s waiting for us, and you know how tense pilots can get when they’re kept waiting."
Catherine intercepted her daughter’s sudden movement towards White, knowing that an attempt to overcome the man right now would be nothing sort of suicide.
"Let me help you there, dear." She said quietly, grabbing Jarod from the other side and propelling him towards the car. With Jarod in motion, Parker had no choice but to follow.
"Mother!" Parker hissed angrily.
"Not now, dear." Catherine answered serenely. "We can talk on the way home; privately." She stressed the final word with a mental nudge at her daughter.
Parker, still unused to her newfound ability, looked a little like she’d just swallowed a bug, but followed her mother’s lead. Alexander smiled warmly. He, of course, had caught Catherine’s nudge too, and suspected he knew what the older woman was thinking. He caught her eye and nodded slightly, conveying his approval and support.
Alexander wiggled into the limo first, somehow managing to get himself and Marion onto the seat behind the chauffeur, facing the trunk. Parker maneuvered Jarod in next, and slid in beside him, checking to make sure the door beside him was firmly locked and belting the still bemused man in place. Now that she’d rescued him from the scarlet tipped claws of the blond harpy in front of her, she didn’t want to risk losing him to a stupid move he might make in his drug induced haze. Catherine, after one last measuring look at Mr. White, slid in next to her daughter, and Mr. White slid in next to Alexander last. He was the only one in the back with a gun, but he seemed supremely confident anyway.
As soon as the car was in motion Alexander leaned forward and put his hand on Parker’s knee.
{Take your mother’s hand so we can all talk privately.} He thought to her while his mouth said, "Don’t worry, Miss Parker, the drug will wear off of your friend in a few hours."
"I don’t know where my mother is." Jarod answered Alexander’s unspoken communication plaintively. "I look and I look, but I just can’t find her."
The three telepaths looked quite startled, but to their relief, Mr. White seemed to take his comment in stride; apparently believing it was a product of the drug Alexander had just mentioned. Parker clasped her mother’s hand, as if for comfort, and instantly the three were aware of each other’s thoughts.
{We’ve got to overpower them, somehow.} Parker said decisively. Jarod stirred, as if to speak, and she shushed him mentally. {Go to sleep dear.} She urged, and imitating her mother’s trick with her, although she wasn’t aware of it, she nudged Jarod into a deep sleep.
{I don’t see how we can.} Alexander returned practically. {Without one of us getting seriously hurt.} Unspoken, but implied in a way that only a mental communication could manage was Mr. White’s gun.
{I don’t see why we should.} Catherine countered quite calmly. {We want to go to the States, and they want to take us there. Much better to wait for an opportunity on the plane ride back. I think that we can manage something then, when their guards are down.}
{What about her.} Parker’s thought dripped disgust and was obviously directed at Marion.
{You’re right dear, she will be a problem.} Catherine conceded thoughtfully. {However, I know of a way to put a leash on her.}
{What? Is it painful?} Perhaps Parker could be forgiven for the tinge of glee that thought brought her. Catherine smiled involuntarily.
{It won’t hurt her in any lasting way.} She reassured Alexander, who cared about Marion. {But if she tries to use her ability to "push" it will give her a migraine headache.}
{I suppose it is for the best.} Alexander sighed mentally.
"I’d like to take a look at Marion." Catherine told Mr. White out loud. "I’m afraid my daughter hit her pretty hard."
Parker smirked with satisfaction and fixed her cold glare on White; promising him silently that she’d hit him even harder if the opportunity arose.
"Go ahead." White agreed grudgingly. "But we aren’t stopping at any hospitals on the way."
Parker leaned back and closed her eyes, letting herself really think about the events of the past week, while her mother worked her "magic" on Marion.
It had begun on such a sour note, she remembered with more than a touch of sorrow, with Jarod’s rage and her lies. They were lies that she believed were for the best, but that didn’t make the pain they left behind any less. Somehow, between the lies, the threats and accusations, and the continual crisises that kept arising in the middle of their personal crisis, she had managed to back herself in a corner where Jarod was concerned. And after Marion’s determined pursuit of the man that she finally realized belonged to her and her alone, Parker also realized that she didn’t want to fight him anymore.
But how could she mend her fences with him now? The words they’d thrown at each other were horrible and the wounds they’d left behind were still bleeding. And, since she was being honest with herself she decided she’d better be completely honest; apologies were not her strong suite.
{Just talk to the man, dear.} Her mother’s soothing advice sounded in her mind. {He’s a good man, he’ll listen. If you two start talking, instead of hurling verbal knives at each other, you’ll reach an understanding together.}
{But what if all he wants is the baby, Momma?} She revealed her greatest fear to her mother, tears welling behind her closed lids and trickling down her cheeks. {What if he really doesn’t care about me at all?}
{Don’t be silly, Angelina.} Catherine chided her daughter gently. {You two did not make a child without some feelings for each other. You care about him, and you know that he cares about you. Don’t let your insecurities rob you of the joy you could have.}
With that, her mother leaned back and also closed her eyes, leaving Alexander to be the only one of the party who watched the threatening Mr. White. It wouldn’t do for them all to surrender easily, he knew, that would simply put Mr. White more on the alert than he’d been before. So he watched, and brooded, and made sure their captor noticed him watching and brooding. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.
***********************
"Broots!" Karen’s voice was so panicky that Broots raced to the kitchen without a moment’s thought. Nothing could have prevented the fragmented images of certain doom that flashed through his mind, though. Images of sweepers bursting through the kitchen door, or some Centre-owned policeman looming over his sister-in-law. None of them, however, involved Karen sitting white-faced at the kitchen table with her phone held to one ear by a shaking hand. Debbie sat across from her aunt, her eyes wide and frightened while she watched her aunt’s palpable fear.
"What is it, Karen?" Broots asked apprehensively. Karen’s eye’s filled with tears as she handed the phone to him wordlessly. As Broots managed a tentative, "Hello?" Debbie flew from her spot at the table and into her aunt’s arms. She was both seeking and giving comfort, and she still didn’t know what had frightened her strong minded relative. From the safety of Karen’s arms she saw her father’s face pale too.
"Please repeat that?" Broots asked. His voice was admirably firm, and even though his face had paled, it had settled into grim lines of determination; something that wouldn’t have happened a week earlier. His days of timidity were on their way out---his boldness in rescuing his daughter had been the first step towards his own measure of courage and self-confidence.
"I see." Broots managed, his lips tight. "No, Mutumbo, we will not be waiting for your goons. You will not harm either my brother or Emily, because if you do, we will immediately release all of the information we’ve gathered on the Centre’s activities and its employees. Yes, that means you. We have hardcopies of your business files. I suggest that if you are not clever enough to release our loved ones, that you at least cover your ass by treating them VERY well." With that, he disconnected the call, managing to mask his shaking so as not to frighten Debbie more.
"We’re leaving, right now." He told Karen firmly. "Where are Sydney and JJ?"
Karen opened her mouth, but before she could answer the phone rang again. The three frightened people stared at it apprehensively before Broots picked it up on the third ring.
"Hello?" If possible, his face got even grimmer. "Can’t do that, Syd." He responded after a few moments. "Just make sure to remind Mutumbo of what we’ve got on the Centre. That should keep you guys alive until we can figure out what else to do. Take care."
Broots’ voice cracked a little with that last statement, but he hung up the phone without hesitation.
"Karen, grab every piece of evidence we have with us---we’re going to need it. Debbie, grab your coat and your sleeping bag. We’re leaving; now!"
But as rapidly as they moved, they were still greeted by the sight of a Centre "Cleaner" van pulling up in front of the house as they prepared to leave. Broots hustled them back inside and jammed a chair desperately under the doorknob.
"This way, Broots!" Karen finally shook off the paralysis the news of her husband’s capture had brought her and pulled on Broots’ arm insistently.
"Frank always said this day might come. We have, as melodramatic as it sounds, a secret exit. Come on!"
Broots, at his wits end with this latest threat to himself and his family, allowed Karen to take over. She hustled them down the basement stairs to the family room, pausing only to throw the metal bar locking the basement door behind them. Since it barred the door across the middle, it would undoubtedly buy them several extra minutes of time while they cut the door away around it.
In the family room, Karen rushed over to the entertainment center and pulled three books halfway out of place on the shelves next to the television. Debbie grinned and Broots gasped as the entire entertainment center swung away from the wall.
"Go, go!" Karen all but pushed them into the dark corridor. She turned as she entered behind them and pushed a red, palm sized button on the wall. The shelving swung shut behind them, leaving the three in total darkness.
"Now what?" Broots asked, his voice hushed in the utter blackness.
"Just a sec." Karen responded, rustling around in the dark. A moment later a strong flashlight beam appeared, catching Broots briefly directly in the face, and dazzling all of their dark-adjusted eyes.
"Okay," She went on, not bothering with an apology for Broots’ momentary blindness. "There are supplies loaded in a RV that’s been hidden at the end of this corridor, but it’s going to be a long hike. I’m guessing that we’ll reach the end just about the same time they figure out that there’s another exit to the family room. If we hustle, we’ll be long gone before they have any clue where we went. I take it you’ve got some plan for getting the others back from the Centre?"
She added the last with a razor sharp look at Broots that irresistibly reminded him of Miss Parker. For just a minute that reminder made his throat close up with grief that he hadn’t found the time to acknowledge, much lest vent.
"Not yet." He finally managed, clearing the lump from his throat with a cough. "But I’m working on it---and as far as we know, the Major and Sam are still free. It isn’t over yet." He finished, his voice ringing with determination and defiance by the end of his little speech.
"Good enough." Karen nodded, her face grim as she firmly held back her own grief. "We’ll be able to try to contact the others from the RV. It has a computer with a wireless modem onboard."
The three fugitives scurried down the corridor, Karen in the lead with the light, Debbie in the middle, and Broots bringing up the rear, the gun he and his daughter hated so much held firmly in his hand. As far as they knew, their little freedom force was down to them, but somehow that just strengthened their resolve to see the Centre destroyed once and for all.
"A car should be here soon." Alexander mumbled, his attention focused on his unconscious employer, who was growing far heavier than he would have ever believed she could.
"Why not take mine?" A new voice asked amicably. "It’s pulling up right now." Mr. White smiled quietly as he gestured to the three startled refugees with his handgun.
Parker’s blue gaze narrowed as she focused longingly on the gun. Catherine’s brow furrowed with concern, and then smoothed as she fixed her mask of calm over her patrician features. Alexander just sighed. He’d known that trusting someone from the Centre would turn out to be a big mistake! And Mr. White’s limousine pulled up to the curb, a relieved and smug Mr. Raines waiting in the passenger seat by the driver.
"Do get in." White urged firmly. "The plane’s waiting for us, and you know how tense pilots can get when they’re kept waiting."
Catherine intercepted her daughter’s sudden movement towards White, knowing that an attempt to overcome the man right now would be nothing sort of suicide.
"Let me help you there, dear." She said quietly, grabbing Jarod from the other side and propelling him towards the car. With Jarod in motion, Parker had no choice but to follow.
"Mother!" Parker hissed angrily.
"Not now, dear." Catherine answered serenely. "We can talk on the way home; privately." She stressed the final word with a mental nudge at her daughter.
Parker, still unused to her newfound ability, looked a little like she’d just swallowed a bug, but followed her mother’s lead. Alexander smiled warmly. He, of course, had caught Catherine’s nudge too, and suspected he knew what the older woman was thinking. He caught her eye and nodded slightly, conveying his approval and support.
Alexander wiggled into the limo first, somehow managing to get himself and Marion onto the seat behind the chauffeur, facing the trunk. Parker maneuvered Jarod in next, and slid in beside him, checking to make sure the door beside him was firmly locked and belting the still bemused man in place. Now that she’d rescued him from the scarlet tipped claws of the blond harpy in front of her, she didn’t want to risk losing him to a stupid move he might make in his drug induced haze. Catherine, after one last measuring look at Mr. White, slid in next to her daughter, and Mr. White slid in next to Alexander last. He was the only one in the back with a gun, but he seemed supremely confident anyway.
As soon as the car was in motion Alexander leaned forward and put his hand on Parker’s knee.
{Take your mother’s hand so we can all talk privately.} He thought to her while his mouth said, "Don’t worry, Miss Parker, the drug will wear off of your friend in a few hours."
"I don’t know where my mother is." Jarod answered Alexander’s unspoken communication plaintively. "I look and I look, but I just can’t find her."
The three telepaths looked quite startled, but to their relief, Mr. White seemed to take his comment in stride; apparently believing it was a product of the drug Alexander had just mentioned. Parker clasped her mother’s hand, as if for comfort, and instantly the three were aware of each other’s thoughts.
{We’ve got to overpower them, somehow.} Parker said decisively. Jarod stirred, as if to speak, and she shushed him mentally. {Go to sleep dear.} She urged, and imitating her mother’s trick with her, although she wasn’t aware of it, she nudged Jarod into a deep sleep.
{I don’t see how we can.} Alexander returned practically. {Without one of us getting seriously hurt.} Unspoken, but implied in a way that only a mental communication could manage was Mr. White’s gun.
{I don’t see why we should.} Catherine countered quite calmly. {We want to go to the States, and they want to take us there. Much better to wait for an opportunity on the plane ride back. I think that we can manage something then, when their guards are down.}
{What about her.} Parker’s thought dripped disgust and was obviously directed at Marion.
{You’re right dear, she will be a problem.} Catherine conceded thoughtfully. {However, I know of a way to put a leash on her.}
{What? Is it painful?} Perhaps Parker could be forgiven for the tinge of glee that thought brought her. Catherine smiled involuntarily.
{It won’t hurt her in any lasting way.} She reassured Alexander, who cared about Marion. {But if she tries to use her ability to "push" it will give her a migraine headache.}
{I suppose it is for the best.} Alexander sighed mentally.
"I’d like to take a look at Marion." Catherine told Mr. White out loud. "I’m afraid my daughter hit her pretty hard."
Parker smirked with satisfaction and fixed her cold glare on White; promising him silently that she’d hit him even harder if the opportunity arose.
"Go ahead." White agreed grudgingly. "But we aren’t stopping at any hospitals on the way."
Parker leaned back and closed her eyes, letting herself really think about the events of the past week, while her mother worked her "magic" on Marion.
It had begun on such a sour note, she remembered with more than a touch of sorrow, with Jarod’s rage and her lies. They were lies that she believed were for the best, but that didn’t make the pain they left behind any less. Somehow, between the lies, the threats and accusations, and the continual crisises that kept arising in the middle of their personal crisis, she had managed to back herself in a corner where Jarod was concerned. And after Marion’s determined pursuit of the man that she finally realized belonged to her and her alone, Parker also realized that she didn’t want to fight him anymore.
But how could she mend her fences with him now? The words they’d thrown at each other were horrible and the wounds they’d left behind were still bleeding. And, since she was being honest with herself she decided she’d better be completely honest; apologies were not her strong suite.
{Just talk to the man, dear.} Her mother’s soothing advice sounded in her mind. {He’s a good man, he’ll listen. If you two start talking, instead of hurling verbal knives at each other, you’ll reach an understanding together.}
{But what if all he wants is the baby, Momma?} She revealed her greatest fear to her mother, tears welling behind her closed lids and trickling down her cheeks. {What if he really doesn’t care about me at all?}
{Don’t be silly, Angelina.} Catherine chided her daughter gently. {You two did not make a child without some feelings for each other. You care about him, and you know that he cares about you. Don’t let your insecurities rob you of the joy you could have.}
With that, her mother leaned back and also closed her eyes, leaving Alexander to be the only one of the party who watched the threatening Mr. White. It wouldn’t do for them all to surrender easily, he knew, that would simply put Mr. White more on the alert than he’d been before. So he watched, and brooded, and made sure their captor noticed him watching and brooding. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.
***********************
"Broots!" Karen’s voice was so panicky that Broots raced to the kitchen without a moment’s thought. Nothing could have prevented the fragmented images of certain doom that flashed through his mind, though. Images of sweepers bursting through the kitchen door, or some Centre-owned policeman looming over his sister-in-law. None of them, however, involved Karen sitting white-faced at the kitchen table with her phone held to one ear by a shaking hand. Debbie sat across from her aunt, her eyes wide and frightened while she watched her aunt’s palpable fear.
"What is it, Karen?" Broots asked apprehensively. Karen’s eye’s filled with tears as she handed the phone to him wordlessly. As Broots managed a tentative, "Hello?" Debbie flew from her spot at the table and into her aunt’s arms. She was both seeking and giving comfort, and she still didn’t know what had frightened her strong minded relative. From the safety of Karen’s arms she saw her father’s face pale too.
"Please repeat that?" Broots asked. His voice was admirably firm, and even though his face had paled, it had settled into grim lines of determination; something that wouldn’t have happened a week earlier. His days of timidity were on their way out---his boldness in rescuing his daughter had been the first step towards his own measure of courage and self-confidence.
"I see." Broots managed, his lips tight. "No, Mutumbo, we will not be waiting for your goons. You will not harm either my brother or Emily, because if you do, we will immediately release all of the information we’ve gathered on the Centre’s activities and its employees. Yes, that means you. We have hardcopies of your business files. I suggest that if you are not clever enough to release our loved ones, that you at least cover your ass by treating them VERY well." With that, he disconnected the call, managing to mask his shaking so as not to frighten Debbie more.
"We’re leaving, right now." He told Karen firmly. "Where are Sydney and JJ?"
Karen opened her mouth, but before she could answer the phone rang again. The three frightened people stared at it apprehensively before Broots picked it up on the third ring.
"Hello?" If possible, his face got even grimmer. "Can’t do that, Syd." He responded after a few moments. "Just make sure to remind Mutumbo of what we’ve got on the Centre. That should keep you guys alive until we can figure out what else to do. Take care."
Broots’ voice cracked a little with that last statement, but he hung up the phone without hesitation.
"Karen, grab every piece of evidence we have with us---we’re going to need it. Debbie, grab your coat and your sleeping bag. We’re leaving; now!"
But as rapidly as they moved, they were still greeted by the sight of a Centre "Cleaner" van pulling up in front of the house as they prepared to leave. Broots hustled them back inside and jammed a chair desperately under the doorknob.
"This way, Broots!" Karen finally shook off the paralysis the news of her husband’s capture had brought her and pulled on Broots’ arm insistently.
"Frank always said this day might come. We have, as melodramatic as it sounds, a secret exit. Come on!"
Broots, at his wits end with this latest threat to himself and his family, allowed Karen to take over. She hustled them down the basement stairs to the family room, pausing only to throw the metal bar locking the basement door behind them. Since it barred the door across the middle, it would undoubtedly buy them several extra minutes of time while they cut the door away around it.
In the family room, Karen rushed over to the entertainment center and pulled three books halfway out of place on the shelves next to the television. Debbie grinned and Broots gasped as the entire entertainment center swung away from the wall.
"Go, go!" Karen all but pushed them into the dark corridor. She turned as she entered behind them and pushed a red, palm sized button on the wall. The shelving swung shut behind them, leaving the three in total darkness.
"Now what?" Broots asked, his voice hushed in the utter blackness.
"Just a sec." Karen responded, rustling around in the dark. A moment later a strong flashlight beam appeared, catching Broots briefly directly in the face, and dazzling all of their dark-adjusted eyes.
"Okay," She went on, not bothering with an apology for Broots’ momentary blindness. "There are supplies loaded in a RV that’s been hidden at the end of this corridor, but it’s going to be a long hike. I’m guessing that we’ll reach the end just about the same time they figure out that there’s another exit to the family room. If we hustle, we’ll be long gone before they have any clue where we went. I take it you’ve got some plan for getting the others back from the Centre?"
She added the last with a razor sharp look at Broots that irresistibly reminded him of Miss Parker. For just a minute that reminder made his throat close up with grief that he hadn’t found the time to acknowledge, much lest vent.
"Not yet." He finally managed, clearing the lump from his throat with a cough. "But I’m working on it---and as far as we know, the Major and Sam are still free. It isn’t over yet." He finished, his voice ringing with determination and defiance by the end of his little speech.
"Good enough." Karen nodded, her face grim as she firmly held back her own grief. "We’ll be able to try to contact the others from the RV. It has a computer with a wireless modem onboard."
The three fugitives scurried down the corridor, Karen in the lead with the light, Debbie in the middle, and Broots bringing up the rear, the gun he and his daughter hated so much held firmly in his hand. As far as they knew, their little freedom force was down to them, but somehow that just strengthened their resolve to see the Centre destroyed once and for all.
