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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.
Broots gnawed absently on his lower lip as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Every now and then he cast a furtive glance around the room, even though he tried to stop it. It didn’t matter that he was in his own study in his own home, he feared the Centre would find out about his activities and half expected Sweepers to come bursting through the door at any minute. Satisfied once again that all was peaceful and still he turned his attention back to the monitor on his desk.
He couldn’t remember ever being so frightened in his life. Even when he’d been running from Lyle he had only been afraid for himself. Now, he was afraid for Parker. Sydney believed that she’d done something unforgivable, and even he felt a sickening pain inside when he thought of her aborting her child. He’d seen the strain on her face, though, and wondered just what was driving her. Oh, she’d carefully hidden her distress behind makeup and her brittle mask of antagonism, but it was unmistakably there if one looked closely enough.
Something was driving the woman he respected, admired, and, yes, even loved in an untouchable way. Maybe she had done something horrible, but really, could he judge her? Was she wrong to save the baby from life in the Centre? He thought of his daughter Debbie, peacefully sleeping in her room, at the mercy of Raines, (before he’d found religion) or Lyle and shuddered. He wasn’t sure, be he thought he just might kill her himself, now, if it would spare her such a fate. Whatever Parker had done, he had faith that she’d only done what she thought she had to do. She might be abrasive, and appear ruthless and cold sometimes, but he knew that she was a warm and loving woman underneath all of that, and he trusted her heart.
He didn’t know how to tell her he believed in her, knew that she was only doing what was necessary to survive, so he was doing the next best thing. He was trying to uncover what Lyle had been so happy to find in the Centre’s main database. So far he’d managed to get as far as Project Gemini’s files, but he hadn’t yet figured out how to get into them. It wouldn’t be long, though. He’d have the security guarding the project down and get the information "through the back door", as it were.
He found himself looking around for Sweepers again, as he waited for his program to do its work, and was relieved when his computer beeped and drew his attention back to the monitor. He cursed his foolishness in ever taking a job at the Centre, not for the first time, and reflected that he simply was not cut out for a life of intrigue, also not for the first time. His fears were forgotten, however, when he started reading the files around Project Gemini. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in amazement as he realized what he’d found.
Disregarding the late hour he phoned Sydney not ten minutes later.
"Sydney." He said to the man’s drowsy query. "I’ve found something that’s concerning Miss Parker."
"I don’t want to hear it, Broots." Sydney answered with weary pain. "I just can’t deal with another problem right now."
"Sydney, you *want* to know this, trust me." Broots insisted, getting Sydney’s attention with his persistence.
"Okay, what is it?" He sighed, his mind drifting longingly towards the dream he’d been having when his phone had rung.
"I know what Lyle found today." Broots answered simply. "But that isn’t all. You have to come over here, now."
He waited out the dead silence on the line while Sydney considered the matter. He knew Sydney’s feeling of pain and betrayal was warring with his lifelong habit of caring for Miss Parker. In the end a lifetime of habit won out and he agreed to make his way to Broots’ home, adding his warning that Broots would be an extremely unhappy man if his information was not earth shaking in importance.
************************
Parker strode through the sterile hallways of the underground installation know of by only a select few. She thought she was successfully masking her revulsion, and nausea, at returning to this house of horrors, but she was still glad that only a skeleton staff was awake and about at this hour of the night. She came to a metal door, set anonymously into the concrete walls without even a number to label it, and paused.
She’d already seen enough hurt and betrayed looks for one lifetime, was she ready to deal with one more? Did she have a choice? She took a deep breath for courage and unlocked the door, pushing it open and then jumping back as a container full of disgusting refuse plummeted down. Fortunately none of the repulsive stuff got on her. Parker delayed her entrance long enough to call for a janitor to clean up the mess. Already the smell was making her earlier nausea return.
"Emily, I presume?" She asked dryly, eyeing the petite brunette who glared at her with stubborn defiance and Jarod’s brown eyes. She felt her heart twist painfully to see his eyes set in her face, and eyeing her with such hostility.
"What the hell do you care what my name is?" The young woman might be petite, but she was courageous, Parker admitted to herself. She kept her reaction to a slightly raised eyebrow, and circled the girl assessingly.
"You can call me Miss Parker." She informed the prisoner, her lips twitching slightly as she awaited the girl’s response. Emily didn’t disappoint her.
"I’d prefer to call you,-----" Parker couldn’t restrain a grin of admiration at the audacity, and sheer vulgarity of Emily’s preferred name for her.
"I think you’d better stick to Miss Parker." She chuckled, confusing Emily who had obviously expected anger, not humor. "And don’t you think the "pail over the door" trick is a trifle childish?"
"If you’d spent the better part of a day with dark, handsome, and octopus hands, you’d arrange a suitable greeting for him too." Emily answered without the slightest sign of regret or intimidation. Parker’s smile grew. She *liked* this girl. For the first time in weeks she was feeling halfway good, and it was Emily’s stubborn rebellion, and indomitable spirit that had brought it on. She was suddenly glad that she’d decided to rescue the girl.
"I believe you mean my brother, Lyle." Parker answered, eyes twinkling. "My suitable greeting for him is a gun, but I’m assuming that isn’t an option for you?"
"Whoa, talk about family feuds! As for a gun, don’t I wish! Nope, I just had to do the best I could with what I had on hand."
"Your best is very inventive." Parker approved. Emily noticed, however, that as friendly as the woman seemed she made sure she wasn’t within an arm’s length of her at any time. Her half formed hope that she could jump the woman and use her as a hostage to escape died aborning.
"Do you know where you are?" Parker asked curiously, wondering if Emily had any idea of just how serious her position was. Emily retained her antagonistic pose, but Parker saw a glimmer of fear in her brown eyes as she answered.
"Well, if this isn’t the Centre that stole my brothers then it’s a branch of it." She answered, hostility renewed by her reminder of captivity. She didn’t want to like this tall, and intimidating, if she was honest, woman. Emily reminded herself that the woman was the enemy, no matter how kind and welcoming her blue eyes seemed.
"You’re in the Centre’s satellite installation, Donoterase." Parker corrected her bluntly. "The Centre is quite interested in your family’s genetic makeup, and you’ve just volunteered to assist Project Gemini."
"Project Gemini?" Emily’s eyes narrowed as she turned over the implications of the name. "Twins? What’s that got to do with my family?"
"Not twins, dear, clones. The Centre appreciated Jarod so much that it has decided to make more of him." Emily’s frown grew as she eyed Parker grimly. It hadn’t escaped her attention that the woman had yet to refer to herself in a fashion connecting her to the Centre. On the other hand, she hadn’t offered to look the other way while Emily took off either.
"I just thought we should get acquainted, Emily, seeing as how we’re going to spend a fair amount of time together." Parker finally said, breaking the silence that had descended while Emily tried to puzzle out Parker’s position in all of this. "I’m the new head of Project Gemini. If you need anything, do be sure and let me know----I don’t know if I’ll get it for you, but who knows?" Her words were saying one thing, but her eyes were locked intently on Emily’s, willing the girl to see that she wasn’t what she appeared to be.
"A key to the door would be nice." Emily finally responded, leaning back on her bed with a sardonic grin on her lips. An undetectable sigh of relief escaped Parker’s lips. Emily’s questioning, and faintly challenging, look told Parker that she’d accepted that there was more going on that what was visible on the surface. Parker smiled a trifle sardonically herself.
"Sorry, dear, I’m afraid that’s not an option." She responded, her stance relaxing slightly as Emily showed no signs of rebuffing her hidden overture of friendship. "One thing I think I *can* do for you, though."
"What?" Emily asked warily.
"I can make sure my brother Lyle gets your "greeting" tomorrow when he goes into his office. I *might* even be able to get a picture of it. I owe the smug bastard a thing or two myself." Emily stared at the viciously vindictive expression on Parker’s face with a touch of awe. It dawned on her that the petty humiliations Lyle had heaped on her after her capture were nothing compared to what he must have done to Parker to rouse such hatred.
"Ah, that would be satisfying, but don’t you think that’s taking sibling rivalry just a bit far?" She asked hesitantly, unknowingly echoing Sydney’s sentiments voiced over a year earlier. Parker gave her a smile dripping with venom, although Emily realized that none of the acid was directed at her.
"Emily, you have no idea how far either my brother or I will take our personal battle. Suffice it to say that my dear brother crossed a line that he should have never even approached. He will live to regret it, but I’m not sure how much longer than that I’ll give him."
"Right." Emily said cautiously, giving Parker a look that was usually reserved for lunatics, or angry postal workers. Her lips were quirked slightly, though, as she went on. "Remind me not to piss you off, okay?"
Parker found herself laughing, rich, full bodied sound of utter delight, before she realized it.
"Oh, Emily, if only your brother had your sense of humor!" She finally managed, still chuckling.
"Wait!" Emily cried, leaping off of the bed as Parker made for the door. "You know my brothers?"
Parker swung around at Emily’s question, her heart dropping sickeningly as she realized that Emily didn’t know that one of her brothers was dead. The humor disappeared from her face as she realized that she was going to get to break the news of Kyle’s murder to his sister.
"I grew up with Jarod." She admitted briefly. "We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay? I’ve got to get going if I’m going to prepare Lyle’s office for tomorrow."
"Please!"
Parker regretted closing the door on that heartfelt plea, but she simply couldn’t face anymore pain that day. She was glad that she’d finally gotten her initial meeting with Emily over with. She’d managed to bring herself up to date on the Gemini project while she was working up the courage to face Jarod’s sister, so the day wasn’t wasted, but it had still been a hell of a day and she was exhausted. Her momentary cheer in Emily’s cell had evaporated, and it was a drooping, and curiously emptied, woman who made her way out of the Donoterase installation.
*****************
"One more!" Jarod waved his hand vaguely at the shot glass in front of him.
"I think you’ve had more than enough, son."
It was a measure of Jarod’s level of inebriation that he didn’t recognize the voice that sounded behind him. He didn’t even feel afraid that the person shaking his shoulder might be a sweeper. He simply didn’t care anymore. All he wanted was to numb the pain that seemed like it was going to consume him and leave nothing but cold ashes behind. He just blinked blearily at the older man who’d turned him around in his bar stool and now sighed in disappointment.
"Dad?" He asked foggily, sure he was delirious.
"Well, you can still see." His father noted dryly. "Now, can you walk?"
"Doan’ know." He admitted. "Doan wanna."
"Son, I don’t know what made you come here, but I promise you alcohol isn’t going to do a bit of good." Major Charles tossed a bill onto the counter to cover Jarod’s tab and pulled his nearly incapacitated son to his feet. Jarod wavered unsteadily, and the Major pulled one of Jarod’s arms over his shoulder, holding tightly to that hand, and supported him around the waist with his other arm.
"She killed it." Jarod mumbled, drunken tears rolling down his face. "Thought it would make it stop hurting, just for a little while, but it still hurts so much!"
Major Charles wondered who "she" and "it" were, but knew better than to question a drunk. He just propelled his weeping son into a waiting jeep, told J.J. to wait on his questions, and headed them out of the town and towards the cabin he’d rented in the boondocks. In the morning they’d find out what was going on, he assured J.J. (Jarod Junior), in the meantime the older Jarod needed peace and quiet. He did wonder, briefly, if his son knew what a price he was going to pay for his excesses the next morning. Considering the boy’s upbringing, he rather doubted it. Oh well, what better way to learn to avoid too much liquor than a monster hangover?
He couldn’t remember ever being so frightened in his life. Even when he’d been running from Lyle he had only been afraid for himself. Now, he was afraid for Parker. Sydney believed that she’d done something unforgivable, and even he felt a sickening pain inside when he thought of her aborting her child. He’d seen the strain on her face, though, and wondered just what was driving her. Oh, she’d carefully hidden her distress behind makeup and her brittle mask of antagonism, but it was unmistakably there if one looked closely enough.
Something was driving the woman he respected, admired, and, yes, even loved in an untouchable way. Maybe she had done something horrible, but really, could he judge her? Was she wrong to save the baby from life in the Centre? He thought of his daughter Debbie, peacefully sleeping in her room, at the mercy of Raines, (before he’d found religion) or Lyle and shuddered. He wasn’t sure, be he thought he just might kill her himself, now, if it would spare her such a fate. Whatever Parker had done, he had faith that she’d only done what she thought she had to do. She might be abrasive, and appear ruthless and cold sometimes, but he knew that she was a warm and loving woman underneath all of that, and he trusted her heart.
He didn’t know how to tell her he believed in her, knew that she was only doing what was necessary to survive, so he was doing the next best thing. He was trying to uncover what Lyle had been so happy to find in the Centre’s main database. So far he’d managed to get as far as Project Gemini’s files, but he hadn’t yet figured out how to get into them. It wouldn’t be long, though. He’d have the security guarding the project down and get the information "through the back door", as it were.
He found himself looking around for Sweepers again, as he waited for his program to do its work, and was relieved when his computer beeped and drew his attention back to the monitor. He cursed his foolishness in ever taking a job at the Centre, not for the first time, and reflected that he simply was not cut out for a life of intrigue, also not for the first time. His fears were forgotten, however, when he started reading the files around Project Gemini. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in amazement as he realized what he’d found.
Disregarding the late hour he phoned Sydney not ten minutes later.
"Sydney." He said to the man’s drowsy query. "I’ve found something that’s concerning Miss Parker."
"I don’t want to hear it, Broots." Sydney answered with weary pain. "I just can’t deal with another problem right now."
"Sydney, you *want* to know this, trust me." Broots insisted, getting Sydney’s attention with his persistence.
"Okay, what is it?" He sighed, his mind drifting longingly towards the dream he’d been having when his phone had rung.
"I know what Lyle found today." Broots answered simply. "But that isn’t all. You have to come over here, now."
He waited out the dead silence on the line while Sydney considered the matter. He knew Sydney’s feeling of pain and betrayal was warring with his lifelong habit of caring for Miss Parker. In the end a lifetime of habit won out and he agreed to make his way to Broots’ home, adding his warning that Broots would be an extremely unhappy man if his information was not earth shaking in importance.
************************
Parker strode through the sterile hallways of the underground installation know of by only a select few. She thought she was successfully masking her revulsion, and nausea, at returning to this house of horrors, but she was still glad that only a skeleton staff was awake and about at this hour of the night. She came to a metal door, set anonymously into the concrete walls without even a number to label it, and paused.
She’d already seen enough hurt and betrayed looks for one lifetime, was she ready to deal with one more? Did she have a choice? She took a deep breath for courage and unlocked the door, pushing it open and then jumping back as a container full of disgusting refuse plummeted down. Fortunately none of the repulsive stuff got on her. Parker delayed her entrance long enough to call for a janitor to clean up the mess. Already the smell was making her earlier nausea return.
"Emily, I presume?" She asked dryly, eyeing the petite brunette who glared at her with stubborn defiance and Jarod’s brown eyes. She felt her heart twist painfully to see his eyes set in her face, and eyeing her with such hostility.
"What the hell do you care what my name is?" The young woman might be petite, but she was courageous, Parker admitted to herself. She kept her reaction to a slightly raised eyebrow, and circled the girl assessingly.
"You can call me Miss Parker." She informed the prisoner, her lips twitching slightly as she awaited the girl’s response. Emily didn’t disappoint her.
"I’d prefer to call you,-----" Parker couldn’t restrain a grin of admiration at the audacity, and sheer vulgarity of Emily’s preferred name for her.
"I think you’d better stick to Miss Parker." She chuckled, confusing Emily who had obviously expected anger, not humor. "And don’t you think the "pail over the door" trick is a trifle childish?"
"If you’d spent the better part of a day with dark, handsome, and octopus hands, you’d arrange a suitable greeting for him too." Emily answered without the slightest sign of regret or intimidation. Parker’s smile grew. She *liked* this girl. For the first time in weeks she was feeling halfway good, and it was Emily’s stubborn rebellion, and indomitable spirit that had brought it on. She was suddenly glad that she’d decided to rescue the girl.
"I believe you mean my brother, Lyle." Parker answered, eyes twinkling. "My suitable greeting for him is a gun, but I’m assuming that isn’t an option for you?"
"Whoa, talk about family feuds! As for a gun, don’t I wish! Nope, I just had to do the best I could with what I had on hand."
"Your best is very inventive." Parker approved. Emily noticed, however, that as friendly as the woman seemed she made sure she wasn’t within an arm’s length of her at any time. Her half formed hope that she could jump the woman and use her as a hostage to escape died aborning.
"Do you know where you are?" Parker asked curiously, wondering if Emily had any idea of just how serious her position was. Emily retained her antagonistic pose, but Parker saw a glimmer of fear in her brown eyes as she answered.
"Well, if this isn’t the Centre that stole my brothers then it’s a branch of it." She answered, hostility renewed by her reminder of captivity. She didn’t want to like this tall, and intimidating, if she was honest, woman. Emily reminded herself that the woman was the enemy, no matter how kind and welcoming her blue eyes seemed.
"You’re in the Centre’s satellite installation, Donoterase." Parker corrected her bluntly. "The Centre is quite interested in your family’s genetic makeup, and you’ve just volunteered to assist Project Gemini."
"Project Gemini?" Emily’s eyes narrowed as she turned over the implications of the name. "Twins? What’s that got to do with my family?"
"Not twins, dear, clones. The Centre appreciated Jarod so much that it has decided to make more of him." Emily’s frown grew as she eyed Parker grimly. It hadn’t escaped her attention that the woman had yet to refer to herself in a fashion connecting her to the Centre. On the other hand, she hadn’t offered to look the other way while Emily took off either.
"I just thought we should get acquainted, Emily, seeing as how we’re going to spend a fair amount of time together." Parker finally said, breaking the silence that had descended while Emily tried to puzzle out Parker’s position in all of this. "I’m the new head of Project Gemini. If you need anything, do be sure and let me know----I don’t know if I’ll get it for you, but who knows?" Her words were saying one thing, but her eyes were locked intently on Emily’s, willing the girl to see that she wasn’t what she appeared to be.
"A key to the door would be nice." Emily finally responded, leaning back on her bed with a sardonic grin on her lips. An undetectable sigh of relief escaped Parker’s lips. Emily’s questioning, and faintly challenging, look told Parker that she’d accepted that there was more going on that what was visible on the surface. Parker smiled a trifle sardonically herself.
"Sorry, dear, I’m afraid that’s not an option." She responded, her stance relaxing slightly as Emily showed no signs of rebuffing her hidden overture of friendship. "One thing I think I *can* do for you, though."
"What?" Emily asked warily.
"I can make sure my brother Lyle gets your "greeting" tomorrow when he goes into his office. I *might* even be able to get a picture of it. I owe the smug bastard a thing or two myself." Emily stared at the viciously vindictive expression on Parker’s face with a touch of awe. It dawned on her that the petty humiliations Lyle had heaped on her after her capture were nothing compared to what he must have done to Parker to rouse such hatred.
"Ah, that would be satisfying, but don’t you think that’s taking sibling rivalry just a bit far?" She asked hesitantly, unknowingly echoing Sydney’s sentiments voiced over a year earlier. Parker gave her a smile dripping with venom, although Emily realized that none of the acid was directed at her.
"Emily, you have no idea how far either my brother or I will take our personal battle. Suffice it to say that my dear brother crossed a line that he should have never even approached. He will live to regret it, but I’m not sure how much longer than that I’ll give him."
"Right." Emily said cautiously, giving Parker a look that was usually reserved for lunatics, or angry postal workers. Her lips were quirked slightly, though, as she went on. "Remind me not to piss you off, okay?"
Parker found herself laughing, rich, full bodied sound of utter delight, before she realized it.
"Oh, Emily, if only your brother had your sense of humor!" She finally managed, still chuckling.
"Wait!" Emily cried, leaping off of the bed as Parker made for the door. "You know my brothers?"
Parker swung around at Emily’s question, her heart dropping sickeningly as she realized that Emily didn’t know that one of her brothers was dead. The humor disappeared from her face as she realized that she was going to get to break the news of Kyle’s murder to his sister.
"I grew up with Jarod." She admitted briefly. "We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay? I’ve got to get going if I’m going to prepare Lyle’s office for tomorrow."
"Please!"
Parker regretted closing the door on that heartfelt plea, but she simply couldn’t face anymore pain that day. She was glad that she’d finally gotten her initial meeting with Emily over with. She’d managed to bring herself up to date on the Gemini project while she was working up the courage to face Jarod’s sister, so the day wasn’t wasted, but it had still been a hell of a day and she was exhausted. Her momentary cheer in Emily’s cell had evaporated, and it was a drooping, and curiously emptied, woman who made her way out of the Donoterase installation.
*****************
"One more!" Jarod waved his hand vaguely at the shot glass in front of him.
"I think you’ve had more than enough, son."
It was a measure of Jarod’s level of inebriation that he didn’t recognize the voice that sounded behind him. He didn’t even feel afraid that the person shaking his shoulder might be a sweeper. He simply didn’t care anymore. All he wanted was to numb the pain that seemed like it was going to consume him and leave nothing but cold ashes behind. He just blinked blearily at the older man who’d turned him around in his bar stool and now sighed in disappointment.
"Dad?" He asked foggily, sure he was delirious.
"Well, you can still see." His father noted dryly. "Now, can you walk?"
"Doan’ know." He admitted. "Doan wanna."
"Son, I don’t know what made you come here, but I promise you alcohol isn’t going to do a bit of good." Major Charles tossed a bill onto the counter to cover Jarod’s tab and pulled his nearly incapacitated son to his feet. Jarod wavered unsteadily, and the Major pulled one of Jarod’s arms over his shoulder, holding tightly to that hand, and supported him around the waist with his other arm.
"She killed it." Jarod mumbled, drunken tears rolling down his face. "Thought it would make it stop hurting, just for a little while, but it still hurts so much!"
Major Charles wondered who "she" and "it" were, but knew better than to question a drunk. He just propelled his weeping son into a waiting jeep, told J.J. to wait on his questions, and headed them out of the town and towards the cabin he’d rented in the boondocks. In the morning they’d find out what was going on, he assured J.J. (Jarod Junior), in the meantime the older Jarod needed peace and quiet. He did wonder, briefly, if his son knew what a price he was going to pay for his excesses the next morning. Considering the boy’s upbringing, he rather doubted it. Oh well, what better way to learn to avoid too much liquor than a monster hangover?
