THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SECURED WING

"Jarod you look like hell." Parker announced as she strode into the infirmary cell, her eyes taking in the restrained pretender.

Jarod winced as he opened his eyes to the blinding fluorescent lights, his head was pounding with the remains of whatever Raines had ordered into his system.

"Miss Parker." He whispered, his throat unbearably dry.

"Rough night?." Miss Parker mocked, approaching Jarod's bed.

Jarod swallowed, attempting to lubricate his throat. "Courtesy of Raines." He croaked, turning his head in the direction of the four discarded syringes near his bedside. Parker caught his line of sight and grabbed one curiously.

"What did he give you Jarod?" Parker asked, any hint of concern removed from her voice.

"I don't know" Jarod admitted. "Something psychotropic. Pounding head, racing heart, tremors, mild hallucinations. Everytime I closed my eyes I saw… " Jarod stopped short, his eyes focused on Parker's hardened stare. "Let's just say sleep was not in my cards last night." The pretender finished bitterly.

Parker raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like you had quite a trip, now it's time for you take a real one."

Jarod sighed heavily as Parker began to undo the soft restraints that had kept him prisoner to the infirmary bed. "Right out of your life." He muttered, avoiding her stare.

"It's been a long time coming." Parker retorted.

"If you have already written me out of your story, why are you here?" Jarod questioned.

"Orders Jarod. Something you will once again learn how to follow."

"I won't let them control me." He informed her, forcing confidence into his voice.

"They already do Jarod." Parker barbed, freeing Jarod from the last restraint with an angry tug. "Up." She ordered bluntly.

Jarod gave her an unimpressed glare as he pushed himself into a sitting position, careful to not apply any pressure on his right arm. He was instantly conscious of Sam as the sweeper entered the small room, immediately approaching the bed.

"Sam will be taking you for a shower. No games, no antics Jarod. Am I understood?" Parker told Jarod, her tone as if she was speaking to a toddler.

"Yes Miss Parker." He replied sarcastically, pushing himself to his feet. The sudden change in position sent a violent rush to Jarod's head, causing the pretender to stumble forward, Sam saving him from crashing to the floor.

"Gus." Parker commanded as a second sweeper ran in from the hallway. "Help Sam, Boy wonder can't seem to stay on his own two feet."

"Your concern is touching Miss Parker." Jarod said as he was slowly escorted to the door. "I can see you have clearly inherited your mother's nurturing soul. The pounding in his head was nearly consuming him.

"Save it Jarod." Parker warned. "The mommy card isn't going to get you anywhere."

"There is still the epilogue Miss Parker." Jarod cautioned.

"Not in this story Jarod." Parker retorted tersely as Sam propelled the pretender out of the room.

"It finishes the way the Centre always intended – both of us, alone." She finished inaudibly.

Life lesson number one – the Centre always wins. Parker had learned that long ago, Tommy's murder had been the final piece in her collapsing bridge. Jarod had yet to crash, but he would, and it would be a long and painful fall. Parker would be damned before she would be there to pick up the pieces. She was still trying to pick hers up.

"I'm sorry Angelo, but this is the only way it can be." Parker whispered, before exiting the room. Three more hours, and her mind would be free from this mess.

"Promise Timmy, Angel will help friend."

Lies. It is what the Parker family did best.

THE CENTRE – SL-21: CORRIDOR B – Jarod's Old Room

Time had finally finished its cruel countdown for Lysander. She was aware of a large group outside her door, indicating that it was time to begin the long journey to Africa.

The predictor lay huddled in a small corner, trapped in a straight jacket. Lyle had brought her here after removing her from the sterile environment in the infirmary. She hadn't left the room since, until this morning when she had been escorted to the showers, and given a fresh set of clothing. They had left her trapped in the straightjacket, her only reprieve given when they delivered the green slop twice a day. No one had spoken a word to her, she had been left totally alone, tortured only by her thoughts. It was as if they really were trying to drive her mad. She wasn't entirely convinced that it wasn't working. Let the mind games begin.

Lysander looked up in disinterest as a team of four sweepers entered her cell.

"Time to go." One of the brainless goons ordered her. Lysander sighed, but using the wall, quickly propelled herself to her feet. She would save her strength, save her resistance for the other side of the Atlantic. Her fight was done here.

The sweepers quickly encircled her, expertly undoing the straps of the straight jacket and slipping it off of her. She wasn't so much given time for one shoulder roll before a belt was attached to her waist and her wrists and ankles encased in shackles.

"Paranoid are we mates?" Lysander drawled, but she was ignored. Instead they grabbed her biceps and propelled her forward. Lys practically had to jog to keep up with their gaited walk. She sighed in relief as the group reached the elevator.

Lysander kept her eyes trained on the elevator panel, watching as they slowly ascended to their final destination, SL 1. She could feel fear, apprehension growing in her as they approached ground level. It took every ounce of self control not to erupt into a full scale panic attack as the elevator dinged, announcing it’s arrival.

Lysander closed her eyes as she roughly pushed forward off the elevator, taking in a deep cleansing breath. She almost hoped they would sedate her, so she wouldn't spend the next eighteen hours suppressing panic. Sometimes it was best just to be lost in oblivion, free from pain.

As the group entered the lower level of the parking garage, Lysander scanned the surroundings, hoping for a glimpse of Jarod. He was nowhere in sight, and she realized that it was unlikely that the two would be allowed to exchange so much as a quick glance. Two cargo vans were waiting near the door, along with five town cars. You would think the pope was coming to town.

However even if Jarod wasn't in sight, Lysander knew the pretender would be making this journey with her. Even if she couldn't see him, she could feel him, knowing that while behind their locked doors, while held in their chains, there was another person experiencing the same fear and helplessness as herself.

THE CENTRE – INFIRMARY – SECURED WING

"Sam, is he ready?" Parker demanded harshly from outside the infirmary shower stalls. The last thing she needed was to walk in on boy wonder in his birthday suit.

"Yes Miss Parker." The sweeper responded dutifully.

Parker stood impatiently, acutely aware of the shackles she held in her hand. She couldn't help but notice a flash of guilt, but pushed it away. Jarod had chosen his fate, and she was as much as a pawn in this episode as he was. She wouldn't be a victim to the guilt. It was Jarod's plight, not hers. One would go crazy feeling empathy towards all those whose lives had been harmed by the hands of the Centre. Best not to waste it on those who couldn’t help themselves.

Jarod emerged from the shower area, his hair still wet; Sam's hand firmly encircling the pretender's left bicep. Miss Parker handed the shackles over to Sam, who wordlessly began restraining Jarod.

Parker caught the pretender's intense stare, his deep brown eyes never leaving hers. His face was taunt, masking any emotions that he might be feeling, but she couldn't help to see the fear that was emanating from his eyes. It had been years since she had seen such desperation in Jarod's features. She couldn't bear the thought of the emptiness she knew those eyes would hold if Jarod was ever returned from the Africa.

Parker stepped back as Sam double checked the belt around Jarod's waist. The right cuff lay empty, due to the bulky cast Jarod wore on his right wrist, but the rest of his appendages were carefully chained.

Wordlessly Parker rubbed the blue cloth she still held in her hands, before approaching Jarod. He looked at her curiously. "A sling." He stated. "I didn't realize my comfort was that important to you Miss Parker." He barbed.

Giving Jarod her best menacing stare, Parker silently helped Jarod into the sling, enjoying the pretender's look of disgust as he realized that the end that held his hand was completely enclosed. There would be no lock picking in his future. "It's not." She stated evenly.

"The Centre really does think of everything don't they?" He remarked bitterly.

Parker ignored him, not wanting to engage in yet another word battle with Jarod. "Time to go." She announced, starting in the direction of the elevator, knowing Sam would ensure Jarod would follow suit.

The ride up to SL-1 was mercifully short, and for once in his life, Jarod remained silent.

As the elevator pinged opened, Parker turned around and faced the pretender. "Out." She snapped, in a tone she usually reserved just for Broots.

Jarod sighed heavily, but awkwardly moved out of the elevator. Not waiting for Sam, Parker grabbed the pretender's arm, hauling him forward, fully aware he was struggling to keep up with her, given his current state of restraint.

A few feet from the entrance way into the underground parking garage, Parker roughly pushed Jarod against the wall, meeting his angry eyes with an unforgiving stare of her own. "There will be no games Jarod, no stunts, no houdini acts. You pull anything and I swear -."

"I got it Miss Parker." Jarod interjected thinly. "The only question I have is if the bullet is destined for my foot or knee. We never quite managed to clear that one up."

Parker sneered at him. "I'm the one in control of the freakshow this time Jarod. Don't you forget it."

Jarod raised his eyebrows. "Now if you really believed that Miss Parker, I wouldn't be in these." The pretender responded, tugging on his restrained left hand. "The Centre has been trying to quantify for years, exactly what my abilities are. Admit it, the shackles, the sweepers, the six vehicles that are likely on the other side of the door are all there because deep down you are all afraid of me, afraid of what exactly I might do, what I am capable of."

Parker let out a huff of amusement. "You just cannot admit defeat, can you Jarod?"

Jarod cocked his head. "On the contrary Miss Parker. My fight is just beginning."

"One hour with the Africans Jarod, and you will be drastically changing your tune." Parker warned, before stepping back. "Sam, get him in the van. NOW." She ordered.

"Yes Miss Parker." The sweeper responded, stepping over and grabbing a hold of the pretender's arm. Jarod's face tightened as he felt the sweeper's grip on him, but said nothing as he obediently followed the sweeper into the parking garage, Parker following suit.

She had arranged the transport well. Lysander and Jarod would be transported in separate cargo vans, in part because of the isolation orders from the Triumvirate, but mostly because it was Parker's assurance. She knew Major Charles was out there, and although she knew it was unlikely that he would attempt a rescue, let alone that he would even knew about his son's upcoming transfer across the Atlantic, she had come prepared. The two vans would be escorted by four town cars. Parker would bring up the rear in a seventh vehicle, far behind and out of the sight of the convoy, the final assurance that nothing would go awry. If she failed, she didn't doubt there would be a bullet destined for her brain, or at the very least a little 're-education' of her own in Africa. She had once told Jarod she would do whatever it would take to survive, and as cruel twisted fate once again had intervened, her survival depended on Jarod's imprisonment.

Noticing Sam had finished securing Jarod in the back of the second cargo van, Parked walked over to make her final inspection. As added security, bars had been installed across the back of the cargo vans, creating a 'control-access' area in the back of a van, or in layman terms, a cage, one that Houdini himself couldn't break out of.

"Have a good trip Jarod." Parker mocked, before Sam slammed the doors shut on the pretender.

"MOVE PEOPLE." Parker commanded, jumping into her town car.

In one hour, Jarod would be safely on the airplane, and Parker would be getting on with her new life – Labrat free.

EN-ROUTE TO CENTRE AIRSTRIP – T-30 min from DESTINATION

Jarod took another deep breath, suppressing the panic that was growing within. As long as they didn't try to sedate him, there was still a possibility of escape once in air. He had done it twice before, and he could do it again.

He just had to stay calm. He could outthink them, given the right opportunity.

Jarod had to admit it was a bit unnerving, knowing he would be under the control of the Triumvirate once he stepped foot on that plane. He knew his Centre capturers. He hadn't dug into their past as much as his just to torment Miss Parker. It was easier to fight the enemy you did know, rather then the one he didn't.

Jarod was pulled out of his thoughts as he became aware that the van that carried him had stopped moving. They couldn't be at the airport already? By his estimation, there should still be another thirty or so minutes left until they arrived at the Centre's airstrip. Jarod pressed his ear against the van wall trying to gage if there was any movement outside. Things were eerily silent.

He flinched as the sound of explosions ricocheted around the van, he counted at least twenty individual explosions. Jarod then heard shouting from outside the vehicle, followed by two gun shots. Moments later the van was once again in motion, proceeding at a dangerous pace.

"Dad?" Jarod whispered.

It had to be. There was no other explanation.

Jarod felt his heart grow lighter, as the van carrying him squealed around the turns. He struggled to remain seated on the small bench, hampered greatly by his leg shackles that were chained to the floor, and his left arm, which he was unable to lift more then a few inches off his lap.

Jarod grimaced as the van flew over a large bump, lurching him off the bench, instinctively he turned to his left, as he flew into the opposite van wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. He let out a groan of pain as he felt the van go down a steep embankment, before finally coming to a rest.

Jarod pushed himself towards the row of bars that separated him from the rear door of the cargo van, the sling on his right arm greatly hampering the process.

He pressed his face against the bars apprehensively as the back door was flung open.

"Dad." He cried as the figure behind the van was revealed.

"My god, Jarod! What have they done to you?" The major questioned, taking in his son's condition. Jarod was instantly conscious of the large laceration on his cheek, and the multiple bruises he knew were visible, nevermind the sling on his right arm, concealing a bulky cast.

"I'm fine Dad." Jarod replied as the Major moved into the van, reaching through the bars and placing a comforting hand on Jarod's cheek. "All that matters is that you are here now. Anything that has happened in the last month isn't important."

"I'm so sorry son." The major comforted, inspecting the large lock that was keeping him separated from his son. "We don't have much time. I need to get this lock off." The major gave Jarod's cheek a comforting pat before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a lock pick.

"How are Emily, and Jay?" Jarod questioned.

"They are fine. We've missed you terribly since we were separated before Christmas. The Centre was so close, we had to disappear underground, until we got the email from Mr. Broots, telling us about you."

Jarod nodded, his heart going out to Broots, knowing the courage it must have taken the tech to send such a sensitive email.

"How did you do it?" Jarod questioned curiously, as his father fumbled with the lock, cursing under his breath.

"Smoke bombs, mixed in with a little laughing gas. They didn't see me coming, much less how I left, although I do think I almost took out a town car on the way out. You can thank your little brother for that plan."

Jarod smiled as he peered outside the van, they were in a heavily wooded area.

The major caught Jarod's wandering eye. "I have a car stashed just a few minutes away, Jay is waiting for us at a nearby airstrip, the plane is fuelled, ready to go, on the runway. I knew I wouldn't regret the day I taught that boy how to fly."

"Since when has Jay been flying?" Jarod questioned lightly, grinning curiously.

The Major gave Jarod a wink. "It was his Christmas present, but I can't say I didn't have ulterior motives."

Jarod's head fell slightly as the emotions of another Christmas alone – away from his family resurfaced.

The major stopped momentarily, again reaching to comfort his son.

"I don't care what the risk is Jarod, after this, we are staying together as a family. We are stronger together. I won't leave you behind again; No matter what the consequences are."

Jarod looked into his father's eyes, his heart warming at the gentleness and caring that shone in them. He gave his dad a small smile, shifting to the right as much as he could. "Dad, can you get this sling off?" Jarod questioned, unconsciously tugging on the chain that kept his feet tethered to the van floor. He needed to free his hand, so he could begin to work on his shackles.

The Major loosened the strap, helping sliding off the blue sling as Jarod turned back to face him. Wordlessly he handed his son another lock pick, checking his watch, frowning at the amount of time that had passed.

"We'll be fine Dad." Jarod offered, as he became aware of his father's concern. "Nothing is going to keep me from my family, not after this."

"Think again." An unmistakable voice sounded from behind the van, the sound of a gun being cocked following suit.