Jarod flinched as the car lights were simultaneously turned on. His eyes widened in shock, as he spotted Lyle about 20 feet directly in front of them, with what seemed like a small army of sweepers and about five vehicles behind him. At least twenty guns were directly pointed at himself and Lysander. Jarod glanced sideways desperately, scouting avenues for escape. There were none. They were trapped.

The twin slowly approached the pair, who were still hand in hand, sarcastically applauding at a tantalizing slow rate. "What a touching moment. You two really should get a book deal. People just eat that kind of angst up." Lyle brought a walkie-talkie up to his mouth. "They are here." He said smugly, not taking his eyes off the two runaways in front of him.

Jarod threw a panicked look at Lysander. "I'm so sorry." He whispered remorsefully, hoping Lyle couldn't overhear him. The predictor's face had paled about five shades whiter as she looked fearfully at their soon to be capturers.

"What can we do Jarod?" She questioned brokenly, dropping his hand.

Lyle saved him from responding. "Nothing, you will both do absolutely nothing."

Lyle made a big show of sniffing as he reached the pair. "How much money have we invested in you Jarod, and this is the best you can come up with? Escape by sewage? We expect better things from you."

Jarod concentrated on hiding his emotions, ignoring the barbs from Lyle. There was no way that they should have known about this escape route. He had stared at the blueprints for hours before piecing it together. Travel through three unconnected tunnels. There was no way they could predicted this. If only he had paid better attention to his earlier anxiety over Lyle's absence. How could they have known? For the first time in his life, Jarod was utterly stunned.

"I can't wait to see how the Africans are going to react, when they find out you tried to pull a fast one over them, Jarod. I can't imagine them taking kindly to being manipulated for personal gain." Lyle continued. Jarod was so tempted to wipe the smug grin of the man's face, so tempted, yet so unable.

Lyle stopped directly in front of Jarod, as the sweepers slowly surrounded the two subjects.

"You see Jarod, from the moment we reacquired you, we enlisted another pretender to track your every move. His eyes have been on you since day one. We've known every time you have lied, everytime you have misled us, every time you withheld information. It really makes moments like this special."

Jarod did nothing but stand there in silence. He felt paralyzed, knowing that if he spoke one word, took one step, he would lose what little control he had over himself. Inwardly he was cursing himself for being bested. He always chided the Center for their overconfidence, but in the end, it was his own smugness that was his downfall, and this time he had taken another victim down with him.

Jarod flinched as he felt a hand on his shoulder with the simultaneous clicks of three guns that he didn't doubt were pointed at his head. He looked over at Lysander, as she attempted to shrug off the sweepers, taking a step forward.

Lyle chuckled, turning his attention to her. "I heard we had a fighter."

Lysander glanced at him coolly, overwhelmingly conscious of the way his eyes were raking over her body. Lyle shook his head, feigning disappointment. "Always the same; all talk, no action." He took a step back. "Restrain them." He ordered firmly.

Jarod focused on the ground in front of him as he felt the cold metal against his left wrist, letting out a painful grunt as his right arm was roughly tugged back.

"Playtime is over boys and girls, it's time to go home." Lyle ordered as Lysander was restrained in a similar fashion. Two arms grabbed Jarod's two biceps, awkwardly careening him forward.

"We really must thank you for your help Jarod." Lyle continued mockingly, obviously enjoying the pretender's stunned silence, as Jarod was roughly escorted towards the waiting cargo van.

"We started your stock market program today, and I hear it's having wonderful success. The Triumvirate believes Corporation Zero will become one of their precious assets by the end of the month. Imagine the good they'll be able to do with a facility like this! As they say, the show must go on."

As the doors were pulled open to the awaiting cargo van, Lyle patted Jarod's shoulder mockingly as he grabbed the pretender's chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "Africa beckons, for both of you. There will be no escape this time." Turning to the predictor behind him he added "Fortunately there is still a little playtime left before you two are shipped across the Atlantic. I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

Jarod roughly yanked his head out of Lyle's grip, not caring as the sweepers pushed him forward into the van. His legs were shackled to the van floor, the chain to his handcuffs carefully secured to the van wall behind him. He watched as Lysander was pushed into the van behind him, secured in an identical fashion.

Lyle examined the two carefully. "Gag them. I don't want them sharing anymore bedtime stories on the way to the safehouse."

The sweepers quickly responded to the twin's command before slamming the door shut on the pair. Lysander knocked her head back against the van wall in frustration, fighting the urge to release the tears that were building up. She had done enough of that tonight. Tears were weakness, and she didn't have the luxury to be anything but strong. It was cruel, tasting freedom after what she had experienced, only to have it so quickly snatched away.

She focused her attention on Jarod. Never in her life had she seen such despair in someone's eyes. Then again if someone handed her a mirror, she knew she would be holding the same look of desolation.

This round clearly went to the Centre.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURED LOWER LEVEL

Jarod stood miserably under the stream of cold water, washing the last of the sewer grime from his body, fully conscious of the four pairs of eyes that were trained on him. Jarod had long given up on the idea of modesty, but it didn't make his lack of privacy any easier to bear.

"Time's up Jarod." One of the sweepers announced. Jarod rolled his eyes, as if he would stay under the stream of cold water for a second longer than necessary. He finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair before shutting off tap.

He walked over to the bench near his discarded clothing which lay a few feet away, looking longingly at his watch. Time and date were not concepts that were permitted in his existence at the Center.

Jarod glanced over at the four sweepers before quickly drying off, hesitating briefly before putting on his Center issued garments.

They didn't bother restraining him, as his cell lay only a bit further down the hall, instead two sweepers grabbed each of Jarod's arms, pulling him outside into the hallway. Outside, Lyle was waiting with Lysander and three sweepers of his own. Jarod instantly felt remorseful about complaining about his own lack of privacy, for whatever dignity he lost by being 'supervised' in the showers, it certainly was significantly worse for Lysander.

"Sweet dreams Jarod." Lyle mocked, as he nodded to the sweepers to escort Lysander into the shower blocks, following suit. Jarod attempted to twist around to catch a glimpse of Lys, but the grips on his arms were too strong. Silently he allowed himself to be led into his cell.

"What no dinner?" Jarod complained only half sincerely as he was pushed onto the bed, and promptly restrained. The chains were loose enough that he could at least lie down, but useless beyond that. "I'll take that as no." He muttered under his breath, as his stomach gave a rumble in protest. He hadn't eaten anything since this morning, and the remains of that had long been burned off scrambling through air vents.

Jarod gave a frustrated tug with his arms as the sweepers left him alone in the cell. The chains served no purpose, other to reiterate the fact that he was back under their control. Closing his eyes, Jarod's began to replay the day in his head. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Never in his life would he have suspected that the Center would bring in another pretender to analyze his work. He had seriously underestimated them. He realized now the only reason the Triumvirate had agreed to his simulation was because they already had their insurance that he wouldn't be getting away.

Parker had tried to warn him but unfortunately he had interpreted her threats as status-quo 'huntress-prey' role playing. Then again, she hadn't done anything to give him any indication she was doing any but that. Jarod had to wonder if she had actually been trying to warn him, or had only put on enough of a performance that she could ignore any guilt she might have felt when he was recaptured. That was Parker, one second you thought you had her figured out, the next, things were spiraling out of control. Jarod was trying so hard to believe that there was still part of that little girl that was his oxygen inside his oppressive world in the Center, but the more she fought him, the more he began to realize that perhaps they to had stolen her soul. He mentally replayed the conversation he'd had with Parker before he had slipped into the access tunnel with Sam.

"I just can't picture my life without you."

"Do, what I think you are planning to do, and I swear to you Jarod, you will never see me again."

She couldn't have meant that… could she have?

Then again, she'd already done it once already in their lifetime.

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURED LOWER LEVEL – CELL D

Lysander sat miserably on the small cot in the cell she had been placed in after her shower. She carefully studied the chains can kept her prisoner to the bed. It was becomingly alarmingly obvious that it didn't matter where she was kept, the Conglomerate, the Corporation, the Center, they were all the same. It felt that every minute of her life was so carefully orchestrated to remind her of exactly where she stood in this world. The more she tried to stand, the more they forced her down. She was so tired of fighting, but giving in, was not an option.

Lysander felt herself retreating, back to the place where she didn't care about what happened to her, where she didn't feel desires, where she didn't dwell over the past. Her already fragile psyche was dangerously close to a total system failure.

At least Alex was dead. She couldn't understand how Jarod could even feel a fiber of remorse at that man's fallen corpse. People like him didn't deserve to breath, people like him, and Mr. Lyle. She had felt Lyle's eyes on her slim form in the shower, his eyes held the same hunger that she had seen so often in Alex. Could she survive again? She shuddered as her memories of Alex plunged to the surface. No, she couldn't let them surface now. She had to be strong.

It had frightened Lys, opening up to Jarod, as it forced her to realize how much she had been repressing, how much pain was truly hidden behind her mask of strength. Alex had been very close to pushing her over the edge, shattering her. How much longer could she hold on?

Lys was well aware that every minute that passed, brought her one step closer to the impeding transfer to Africa. She couldn't go there. She had seen the eyes of those who had returned from the evil grasp of the Triumvirate, and they had held nothing but emptiness. She wouldn't be destroyed like that. She would destroy herself before they could ever destroy her. She wouldn't become the next Alex.

She had fought so hard for nearly two decades. Her mom was gone, her best friend was gone, and now her last real hope of escape was gone. Face it – her life was gone, if she'd even really had much of one to begin with.

Maybe it was time for her check out.

Lying down on the cot, Lysander looked up the ceiling, almost smiling. She was done with this miserable existence.

After all, what was the point?

CENTRE SAFEHOUSE, WESTERN TEXAS – SECURITY ROOM, UPPER LEVEL

Parker stared emptily into the security monitors of the two people locked up below, but in reality, she had eyes only for Jarod.

She had watched stoically for an hour as the pretender had stared blankly at the wall. She knew him well enough to know he was deep in thought, but was keeping his emotions hidden from the cameras. "What have you done Jarod?" Parker muttered under her breath.

Contrary to what some believed, there had been no real definite point in time that Miss Parker had written Jarod out of her life when she was growing up. Her father had sent her away to boarding school, and as her mask of indifference was developed, the few warm memories of her childhood at the Center faded – Jarod along with them.

The first summer after she had returned from boarding school, she had immediately sought out her old friend. However she had found his room completely deserted. Only a few of Jarod's sketches remained on the wall, but the amount of dust that had accumulated on the small desk led Parker to the conclusion that the room had been abandoned. She had made her way to the simlab, only to find it carefully guarded by one of her father's sweepers. Her access to Jarod, was more or less cut off.

Parker now realized that Jarod had been transferred out of the children's wing to the more secure accommodations on SL-21, where he would spend the rest of his existence in the Centre. She also didn't doubt that her father hadn't had something to do with it, as Jarod who had been a few years away from shaving at that point in time, obviously hadn't required the extra 'restrictions' that existed for residents on that floor. Mr. Parker had despised her friendship with Jarod so much so that she was essentially forbidden to mention the pretender's name in his presence. It was no secret he wanted Jarod out of Miss Parker's life. She now realized her father had done everything in his power to ensure that happened. At least this time, it would be on her terms.

Parker had kept on living as her friend remained locked up in the bowels of the Center. Boarding school, summer trips to Europe, university exchange to Japan. The months had soon turned to years, the years quickly spanning more than a decade. With each passing experience, her memories of Jarod became more and more diluted, until it was simply easier just to forget. If she'd forgotten then – she'd be able to forget now.

A subtle throat clearing brought her back to reality. Miss Parker looked behind her to find Broots standing hesitantly behind her.

"The car's ready Miss Parker." The tech stated, looking at the monitors.

"Then what are we waiting for Broots?" She questioned impatiently.

The tech sighed. "I know this isn't any of my business Miss Parker, but why are we leaving now? Why aren't we flying back with Jarod? You're just going to leave him here alone with Mr. Lyle?"

Parker glared at the tech threateningly. She had booked the two on a commercial flight back to Dover. Sydney had not been invited down to Texas, and had likely already returned to the Center. "You're right, it isn't any of your business. Jarod is a big boy – he'll manage."

"I know Miss Parker – but.."

"But what Broots? If I were you, I would forget about Jarod."

"He saved our lives Miss Parker. How can I forget something like that?" The tech fired back.

"In seventy-two hours Jarod will be on a one-way airplane to the Congo. Remember whatever goodwill he may have done for you, but once he's gone, Jarod will not be coming back. At least not the Jarod we know. Now do me a favour Broots, and never mentioned his name to me again." Parker sneered, before exiting the room.

Broots turned sympathetically to the security monitor in front of him. He had an important email to send, not forgetting the promise he had made a few long weeks ago.

"I need you to send an email for me."

"I can't Jarod! The triumvirate is monitoring every communication that comes in and out of this building and dissecting every individual character."

"Not now Broots. I need you to do this if …. If I'm returned to the Center after this is all said and done."

He would do it. Jarod needed him.