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“The cooking sherry again?” Jarod consulted his watch. “At eight in the morning? Come on!”

Miss Parker simply rose from her kitchen chair and walked towards the counter to put some coffee on. He watched her methodically go about the task in a silence that foreboded major drama.

“Miss Parker?” he asked carefully while she inserted the filter into the machine, then added coffee powder. Were her hands trembling? He tried to make out whether they did, but couldn’t see anything but steady movements. What was wrong with her?

She took some time before she slowly turned her head around, then let her whole body follow and leaned back against the counter, her hands at both sides of her body.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

If he hadn’t known something was wrong before, now was the moment it became inevitable. Her emotions were concealed by a mask he had not yet seen before. It was an expression of utter calm that seemed to ooze falseness. Jarod was a little scared, in fact. If she was angry, she usually let it out immediately- maybe her only means to stay sane in the turmoil she called her life. There was no sign of anger there now, just expressionlessness. But Jarod knew her well enough to know that there was.

It first showed in her hand that suddenly grabbed the edge of the counter so violently, that he could see the knuckles whiten almost instantly. The same happened with the second hand a split second later. Like a horse rearing up there was a tremble that went through her upper body and sent her away from the counter with its force.

She now stood in front of him, still in his t-shirt, legs bare and hair messed up but at the same time more hazardous than ever. He took an involuntary step back, halfway anticipating what followed.

Her voice was low, barely to be heard, but firm and filled with the hint of a rage that he immediately associated with a wounded beast that knew it was defeated but went down struggling all the way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Realization hit him. The red notebook on the table. He had left it there. He hadn’t hidden it again as he had done time and again during the previous weeks. He had left it on the table right where she was bound to find it. He couldn’t even accuse her of going through his things since she could have easily confused it with the one he had given to her earlier.

He thought about denying it for a moment, but found it was useless. He had to deal with it right now. Jarod wasn’t a man who was afraid of confrontations, but today he felt his heartbeat quicken, aware of the fact that he might as well lose everything right here and right now.

“Miss Parker, I...” he trailed off. What was he about to say? How was he about to explain it to her? He only realized that she hadn’t been looking at him when she finally raised her chin and locked eyes with him. Her eyes’ usually light color seemed to have darkened- were her pupils dilated?

“What? Want to spare me the details?” He approached her rapidly, willing to make up for his lack of explanation by pulling her into his arms, but she placed a firm hand on his chest before he could come any closer. Still he was close enough to be able to smell the sherry on her breath.

“Tell me the truth, Jarod.”

She did not plead, she demanded. He knew he had to answer her and he knew that it would hurt. One way or the other. There was a long silence in which she moved only to pull her hand back as if touching him made her sick.

“I was going to make this one of my games,” he finally spoke, receiving nothing but the unwavering stare. There was a flicker of devastation in the solemnness of her expression from time to time and despite his own predicament, he found himself worrying about her sanity.

“I sent you that tape of your mother to have you wondering about why your father would do that to her...” Her right eyebrow twitched and she bit her lip.

“I had found out that Kerley had most probably killed Stella because Amanda was not his daughter I just didn’t know who the real father was. I didn’t expect this to develop any further... I didn’t expect us to develop any further...”

He was out of breath and stopped, suddenly badly struggling for air. How on earth could he redeem this? He was so close to losing her now. She’d told him from the start she was sick of his games and still this must look to her like just that.

“I fully intended to have you bond with Amanda and have you find out about her parentage in the process along with yours, but... When I saw your scar that night and we slept together in that bed afterwards, I... I just couldn’t. We had that talk about the games I used to play, about how I was... trying to play god and I discarded my plan.”

He was suddenly at a loss of words again. Was this what he had actually been planning to say? He had pushed the issue so far from his mind that he had never actually made up any speeches to explain himself to her.

She seemed to have been frozen in place until now, her face an armor to conceal whatever emotions were underneath it. She stepped forward, looked up into his face now he was towering over her and said very quietly: “I will go upstairs now. I suggest you don’t follow. I will leave as soon as I can. If you haven’t left this house and returned the keys to my lawyer until tonight I will see to a team of Sweepers come here. Are we clear?”

“Parker, I...” he began.

“Are we clear?” She repeated, louder and firmer now, her eyebrows raised in disgust.

“Yes.” He agreed and before the last of the word had left his lips, she had stepped out of the kitchen already.


Broots looked up from of columns of numbers that would have looked unrelated to most other people, but gave him insight into quite a bit of the structure of the Centre mainframe. He used calm periods of time between leads on Jarod to further his research in order to have the means to override one clearance level or the other when he really needed to. This time he had come really far since Jarod hadn’t been heard from for weeks.

Snapped from his current phase of concentration by the sharp staccato of stiletto heels, he realized too late that they could only belong to one person.

“Hello, Broots.”

He turned around and looked up at the familiar figure of Miss Parker. He scrambled to his feet and stuttered a greeting while his mind was busy looking her up and down. He had expected her to have a tan or look rested, but she looked even less healthy than usual. Her pallor was accented by the black suit she was wearing. Normally she would wear a splash of color underneath like a red blouse or a blue top, but today there was only white skin. Broots swallowed nervously, anxious to not let his gaze linger too long on her revealing neckline. Although she was wearing heavy make-up even by her standards, he could see the slightest hint of a bruise on her forehead, half concealed by strands of hair. And although she carried herself upright as usual, there was a slight gingerliness in her step that wasn’t normal.

“M... Miss Parker are you alright?” he blurted out and she cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course. I am rested and well after my wonderful vacation,” she said sarcastically, then added “I feel just peachy.”

They looked at each other for a moment and Broots knew what the stern expression in her eyes was meant to convey: She was aware of the obviousness of her condition but did not want him to ask about it.

Sometimes Broots was almost proud of the way they communicated without words. It seemed that under the surface of constant teasing, sarcasm and insult there was a certain tenderness between them that she was eager to conceal. As if Miss Parker assumed that her way of treating him was as much an act to him as it was to her.

“Have there been any news on Jarod?” she asked, calmly. He noticed that from time to time, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, she craned her neck awkwardly. He wondered whether she was hurt, but refrained from asking to honor her unspoken wish.

“Nothing. Maybe he took some time off himself.”

A weird look passed over Miss Parker’s face but before Broots could give it another thought, Sydney strode in. His face lit up with joy as he caught sight of Miss Parker.

“Miss Parker! You’re back! How has your vacation been?” he asked warmly and Miss Parker whirled around, startled. The sudden movement seemed to do anything but benefit her, because she swayed slightly and reached out for something to hold on to. Sydney reacted quickly and caught her around the waist to steady her. Miss Parker gave a very low but pained groan that Broots suddenly suspected of not being related to her physical condition.

Instead, it seemed to be Sydney’s close proximity that made her uneasy. She quickly stepped away from the psychiatrist and shot a fleeting gaze into his direction.

“Hello,” she said, notably less eloquently than usual.

“Are you alright? You seem ill!”

“Concussion,” Miss Parker muttered barely audibly, then added. “Hit my head on a water slide.”

Miss Parker on a water slide? That must have been quite a sight, Broots thought.

“Then maybe you’d like to sit down.”

Miss Parker replied with a sound that sounded a little tortured but Sydney purposefully overlooked it.

“There hasn’t been anything on Jarod,” he said instead.

“Hasn’t he sent anything?” Miss Parker asked and her tired gaze was suddenly intense again.

Sydney hesitated for the shortest of moments, then shook his head. “No.”

Miss Parker looked suspicious and her natural bravado returned: “Don’t hide things from me, Sydney.”

“I’d only ever hide anything from you if doing otherwise could hurt you,” Sydney said cryptically and Broots was sure that Miss Parker got the deeper meaning because she looked tortured all over again.

“Sydney I need to speak to you,” she said, sounding as if she was in pain.

“How was your vacation?” Sydney asked again, obviously very eager to change the topic, but Miss Parker wouldn’t let him.

“Great. I happened to come across a few beautiful lies and took home a bunch of secrets!” Her voice had risen up towards the end of the sentence and she was almost yelling now.

“Miss Parker this is not for you to discuss...” Sydney began, stony-faced, but Miss Parker was already beyond the point where she could be reasoned with.

“I want to speak to you. Now. Or I’ll spill the beans right here.” She made a subtle gesture towards the security camera in the corner.

“Oh that one,” Broots said nonchalantly. “Feel free to spill any beans you want. I didn’t like the idea of being watched on the Centre mainframe so that thing is on a loop that shows me work and work and work and...”

“Good.” Miss Parker cut him off. She strode towards the door and kicked it shut with far more force than necessary. The resulting bang echoed through the stunned silence of Broots’ stuffy office with the impact of a gunshot.

“Now tell me what Jarod sent you. The video, too?” She held up her palm and Broots caught a glimpse of the scar he had been wondering about for weeks. Back then when she’d arrived at work with a bandaged hand she’d told him sarcastically that she had accidentally cut herself while doing fretwork.

Sydney responded to her question with an icy silence that wasn’t at all like him.

“Or the copy of the blood test? But you knew Sydney, didn’t you? You’ve known all along!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Parker,” Sydney said in that same detached tone he had used a moment before. He sounded like a completely different person and there was suddenly a hollow feeling in Broots’ stomach because they seemed to have reversed roles. Usually Miss Parker treated Sydney icily and tried to keep him away from her while he was very obviously trying to get closer to her. Now there was an obvious distress in Miss Parker’s words and gestures that worried Broots.

“You did very well, Sydney. You left me hungry to gain a man’s approval who I thought was my father for years! You allowed for me to give up the tiny bit of choice I still had in all this! All because you didn’t care to tell me that I am not a Parker at all!”

Broots was stunned and understanding dawned on him before Miss Parker delivered the final line of the unbelievable drama that was acted in front of him: “You are my father Sydney! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You must be mistaken,” said Sydney with forced calm, then turned around and left.

Miss Parker remained motionless, suddenly looking defeated. Tears had begun to run down her cheeks and a disbelieving sob escaped her mouth when the door fell closed behind Sydney. Broots was at a loss of words and hurried towards Miss Parker to comfort her.

“Leave me alone...” she managed, but her growl turned into just another sob.

“It’s alright, Miss Parker. It’s between us,” Broots said, anxious to not leave her alone with this.

“No. I mean it...” she paused to catch her breath. “Leave me alone... I don’t want anyone...” she trailed off and struggled weakly as Broots carefully pulled her towards him.

“It’s okay, Miss Parker. I’m too terrified of you to tell anyone.”

She finally gave in and lowered her head to his shoulder.

“Why does he do that to me?”

 


When Miss Parker returned home that night, she didn’t even notice that the lights were switched on. She simply stumbled inside, a hollow feeling numbing her body and eager to start numbing her mind as soon as possible. She walked into the kitchen, bumping into a chair on her way and pulled open the refrigerator to retrieve some ice. The cubes jingled as she dropped them into a large tumbler and gave a low cracking noise when she added a generous amount of vodka. She felt better as soon as she had taken the first sip and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the liquid burning down her throat. She seemed never to get used to that burn and she actually didn’t even like it. She found that she drank only when she was feeling down. While most people around her figured that she drank every evening, she usually contended herself with a glass of wine if at all. If she was okay, she had herbal tea. And she wouldn’t have told a soul about that- not even Jarod.

She hadn’t even finished that thought when the smell of peppermint hit her nostrils and she opened her eyes with a start, shrieking gracelessly and spilling the vodka over herself when she found Jarod standing right in front of her, a cup of what had to be peppermint tea in his hand.

She was so surprised that she momentarily forgot that she was angry with him: “How do you know that?”

“I heard you sneak downstairs back in Portland a few times and noticed you always came back with a cup of tea. You have an extensive collection of tea bags in your kitchen.”

“You do know everything, don’t you?” she replied helplessly.

Maybe it was the vodka but his close proximity made her dizzy. She wanted nothing more than to make love to him right here in the half-darkness of her kitchen, just because he was so thoughtful. Stupid her! That train of thought was unique to dumb women who were flattered by a bit of attention.

Jarod gently took the tumbler from her and set it aside, folding her shaking hands around the cup of tea.

“It’s better for you, you know?” he said, for once sans the teasing tone he usually used when he warned her about her drinking habits.

She put the cup down and folded her arms in front of her chest in a gesture of defiance.

“I want you to go away. You lied to me and I don’t tolerate that.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Parker, I am so sorry. I just couldn’t find a way to tell you.”

It suddenly struck her as odd that he almost always called her “Miss Parker” although he had once been her best friend and now was her lover. Even Sydney called her “Parker”. The nervous addressing her as Miss Parker was courtesy of Broots. Her first name had seemed out of question for every single one of her previous lovers, but she suddenly longed for Jarod to call her by it. Especially since he was the only one of the men she had ever slept with, who actually knew her first name. She had even broken up with one former boyfriend because he had been so eager to find out.

It seemed as if she’d never been able to let anyone close enough. And only now that she had found out he had betrayed her trust, she realized that Jarod was the only one whom she had ever actually wanted close.

“I confronted Sydney about it today.”

“I know. He called me.”

“Did he?” Miss Parker walked toward the kitchen window and pretended to look outside to avoid Jarod’s gaze.

“He was angry that you found out.”

“I figured that much out.”

Jarod was suddenly behind her and touched her just below her shoulder.

“Was he very rude with you?”

Miss Parker turned around, surprised at that question. “You could say so.”

“It’s the part of the mystery that I could not unravel. I know that you fath... Mister Parker does know that Sydney is your father and I know that he went violent on your mother for that. I just don’t know why Sydney never told you. I wanted to find out first because I didn’t want you to... well, to have to go through what you just went through.”

He shrugged and looked a little lost.

“So you think I’ll just forgive you like that?”

“I hope you will, Miss Parker, because I don’t want to lose you again."

She put her hands flat against his chest and looked into his eyes: “I need you to help me find out why it is that he reacted to me like this. There was no Centre security around- we were alone with just Broots watching... I need to know why he doesn’t want to acknowledge me as his daughter and...” she blanched slightly as a thought occurred to her: “Lyle is his son, too!”

Jarod knew that he had to come clean about everything else he knew right now or he would lose what little confidence she had in him again.

“No, Miss Parker. He is not.”

 





Chapter End Notes:
...to be continued...





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