Miss Parker was resting her head against the window, eyes closed, when Jarod approached her quietly. The raindrops that were running down the glass were illuminated by the flashing blue lights of an ambulance car against which Miss Parker blinked when he touched her arm.

1. He repeated the diagnosis the doctor had just told him in a calm quiet voice. When Miss Parker didn't respond but simply closed her tired eyes again, he went on: "That means she has..."

Miss Parker abruptly opened her eyes and the unexpected coldness in them shocked the Pretender more than anything else could have.

"I don't care," she said in an attempt to return to her old mean ways, but her voice was raspy and almost broke with the last word.

"Please, Miss Parker..." Jarod reached out for her, but only caused her to take an erratic step back, away from him.

"Don't touch me," she said in a cold voice that sounded hollow but steady. "What did you get me into again, Jarod?" she said and desperation began to seep into her carefully controlled voice.

Since he was too stunned to answer, she went on, firing words at him in a rapid staccato while her voice trembled more with every syllable until he could see the tears in her eyes.

"You pride yourself in being the great Pretender who knows everything! Why do you have to make me go through this again?"

"Through what?" he asked, torn between being angry with her for throwing a tantrum instead of comforting Amanda and feeling for her because she was quite obviously distraught.

"Faith!" The name left her lips like a bullet fired from a gun. That very moment she did start to cry in ernest. Shocked by her own emotions and desperate for Jarod not to see her tears, she turned around and covered her face with her hands. Then she took a deep rattling breath and made for the exit as fast as she could.

"Miss Parker!" he called after her, but she ignored him.

"Wow, girl. You're soaked!"

Miss Parker looked up from her spot on the bench with wary eyes, ready to haul an insult at the speaker, but then held back instead.

In front of her stood an old lady, dressed in a raincoat and a plastic hood that were both dripping with water despite the fact that she was carrying a large umbrella over her shoulder. White curls framed her round kind face.

"You must be cold, honey."

Usually Miss Parker responded only with violence to being called pet-names, but today she was too miserable even for that. The little old lady sat down next to her on the bench without hesitation and pulled a large thermos flask out of her huge handbag.

She poured steaming tea into a battered-looking mug and handed it to Miss Parker who was so surprised that she actually accepted it.

The old lady pointed at Parker and asked: "Unwanted pregnancy?"

Miss Parker shook her head, confused, and so the woman smiled and took a small bottle of rum from her bag. She added a shot to the tea and winked.

"Warms you like nothing else, doesn't it?"

That was something Miss Parker would have never objected to.

"I'm Angela, by the way."

Instead of offering her hand, Angela patted Miss Parker on the shoulder, then adjusted her umbrella so they were both underneath it. It was a welcome shield against the cold raindrops that had long since found their way through Miss Parker's coat and pullover and seemed to slowly turn her skin into ice.

There was silence for a moment during which Angela was looking at a group of very tall trees whose leaves were dripping with water.

"What a day!" she finally broke the silence. "Come on! Drink your tea!"

Miss Parker couldn't help but do as she was told. Her clothes and hair were wet and her teeth were shattering. Besides, Angela didn't look like your average murderer who killed you by means of poisoned tea with rum. Still, the situation was far beyond surreal.

She took a sip and felt better immediately when the warm liquid started to spread through her stomach, warming her up from the inside.

"Ah, that's good," Angela said and patted her cold wet hand. For some reason, the older woman's hands were warm and dry although she wasn't wearing gloves and despite the rain and the hopelessness inside her, Miss Parker suddenly began to feel comfortable.

Angela's eyes were green and looked a little bit like those of a cat- one that would sit by your bed and warm your feet on a cold day. One that would look at you through wise eyes and whose sight would always serve to make you feel better.

"Now what is it that makes you cry outside in this weather?" Angela asked as casually as if she was asking what time it was.

Strangely, Miss Parker didn't mind. She was the queen of seeing evil intention behind even the friendliest people, but right now she felt that there was nothing but warmth about the woman next to her.

"There is a child..."

Angela was about to grab the cup of tea back, but Miss Parker smiled involuntarily.

"A ten year old kid."

"Ah." Angela looked slightly sheepish, then gave Miss Parker a grin that had her smile back again despite herself. "Now? What about that girl?"

"She suffered a great loss and I felt I could help her because I suffered the same." She looked at Angela but since she was patiently waiting for her to continue, she went on.

"I don't think I can help her."

"What changed to make you believe that?" Angela asked.

"I found out she is sick and I used to know a little girl that died of cancer. I can't bear to lose someone else."

Angela looked at her thoughtfully while a drop of water ran down her nose.

"You know, darling. Life's like that."

Miss Parker couldn't help but sneer. "Oh come on. Don't give me all that junk about death belonging to life and being happy to be able to be with someone even if it can't be forever."

Angela shrugged.

"You said that, honey. I was about to mention that you wouldn't sit out here in the rain, but that you would be on a flight back to your hometown if you couldn't bear it."

Parker frowned and was about to ask how the woman knew that she wasn't a Portland native, but Angela had already proceeded with her speech.

"I hardly know anyone who could bear sitting out here, exposing themselves to the risk of catching pneumonia. I think it takes strength to be like that."

"So?" Miss Parker asked. "I hurt myself. That's not strength, it's weakness."

"I have never seen anyone who was less weak than you, sweetheart."

Miss Parker looked at her quizzically. "You barely know me."

"I recognize a strong personality when I see one. So stop moaning and get back to that girl. If she has suffered in the past, she won't want to lose someone else either, don't you think? And I bet she is not as strong as you."

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes at Angela, then closed them, feeling the cold raindrops trickling down her face and breathed in the fresh air that smelled so much of rain. She had completely forgotten that she had used to love the rain. Her mother had good-naturedly laughed at her for sitting by the window for hours at length, unable to tire of watching the raindrops come down, turning the garden into a dripping green mess.

When she reopened her eyes, Angela had vanished and her hands were no longer closed around the warm cup of tea.

"Miss! Miss!" She opened her eyes with a start and found herself on the same bench she had been dreaming about, a doctor in front of her. He was exceptionally good-looking with silver streaks in his dark-brown hair and striking features that had her slightly reminiscent of George Clooney. He was wearing an unzipped leather jacket over his scrubs and was holding a cigarette in his left hand. When he saw her longing look, he offered her one.

"Tough day?" he asked and shrugged when she regretfully declined. He threw the still burning cigarette away and it was extinguished by the rain immediately.

"More or less..." Miss Parker was still unsettled by her vivid dream and absently brushed a streak of wet hair away from her face.

"Look, if you need to talk to someone, I'm actually off duty. That stupid habit of smoking drove me out in the rain."

He gave her a sincere smile.

"I can give you a ride if you need one."

She nodded absently. "Would the airport be too far off your way?"

"Nah." He smiled. "Even if it was... I'd be glad to get you home safely."

She smiled and finally got up from the bench, finding herself actually accepting his offered hand of support. He held her hand for a little longer than necessary.

"Too bad you fell asleep," he said with a hint of worry in his deep voice. "How long have you been outside? I hope you won't catch a cold."

"Or pneumonia..." she whispered, then froze.

He followed her gaze to the bench where a small sign made from bronze was mounted. It said: "Dedicated to Angela Jones who used to spend numerous afternoons here. We will never forget you. May your soul rest in peace."

"Ah, Angela. She died last year," he explained to the soaked woman who looked as if she had seen a ghost. "A great woman. She was always here in the rose-garden and used to give comfort to people who had lost their loved ones."

The young woman in front of him finally allowed herself to meet his eyes and a surge of something he had almost believed to never return to him, went through him. Maybe it was pure lust at the sight of a beautiful woman, but he feared that it was not. She looked to vulnerable for any decent man to have that kind of thoughts, but it felt as if he could see into her soul through her eyes that he noticed were a curious kind of blue. He acted on his first impulse and reached out for her shoulder.

"Are you...?" but she simply raised one hand.

"I need to leave here."

He nodded, slightly disappointed by her reaction and gestured towards the parking-lot.

"Please. My car is over there."

He fell into step next to her when she strode towards the main-building. He hadn't thought he'd ever feel like that again when Maria had died. He had loved her more than he had ever told anyone. But had he ever been that stunned by a woman he had never seen before? Maybe it was like that because she looked so much like her. Maybe because she strode just like her, with her head up high.

They passed the main entrance that lay peacefully in the darkness of the evening. The woman turned her head one last time and stared at the doors, then turned back to him.

"Where's your car? I'd like to catch the eight O'clock flight to Delaware tonight."

Jarod felt his eyes droop and quietly got up from his spot next to Amanda's bed. The girl was sleeping and looked almost peaceful in the large hospital bed that made her look even smaller. He brushed her arm with his hand carefully and whispered: "I'll be back, little one. Don't worry."

Once he was outside the room, he stretched and blinked into the bright light of the hallway. A look at his watch told him that it had been almost an hour since Miss Parker had left. He still didn't know whether he was angry at her or not. She was probably already on her way back to Blue Cove, ready to forget about everything that had happened.

Even - or especially- about the moment they had shared before the rock-throwing.

He buried his head in his hands and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

Who was trying to achieve what with that? Did the man miss them on purpose both times? Was he facing a warning? Who was the man and why had he chosen the remote location of their house first, but then the crowded atrium of the aquarium? None of it made sense. The only man he could imagine to have a grudge on him right now was Amanda's father, but since he was safe behind bars, it was impossible. Or had he asked someone to do it for him? To Jarod, that did seem unlikely since the whole thing looked more like a thing that was not calculated and planned in cold blood, but rather like a crime committed in hot blood. It looked like rage to him and since he had posed as a profiler once, he knew that he could usually trust his instincts.

But could he with Miss Parker? He aimlessly walked down the corridor in the general direction of the cafeteria. He had to think about all of this and he could think best when he was pacing. Since he had been unable to walk greater lengths at the Centre, he now preferred to walk around as if to remind himself of the fact that he was free.

But had he ever been free from the Centre? Wasn't Miss Parker a part of it? Of course she was an integral part of it! If it hadn't been for her, he would have fled to a faraway country a long time ago. But she kept him there, she caused him to remain close by although he didn't want to.

When he had first run away from the Centre, he had wanted revenge. Then as the months had gone by and he had watched them fail the task of returning him numerous times, he had realized that it wasn't revenge that he wanted. He had then assumed that he had just been unable to disengage himself from the people associated to the Centre because, although a dysfunctional one, they had been the only family he'd ever known.

It was only today, that Miss Parker had left him for the first time after he had escaped from her grasp so often, that he realized that he hadn't actually wanted to leave her.

He tried to remember the little girl who had used to visit him, who he had called a friend, but failed to conjure up more than just a blurred image. But he could see Miss Parker as clearly as if she was standing right in front of him, when he imagined her now.

Her relaxing in the bathtub, her holding Amanda's hand, her yelling at him, her hiding her scarred hand under long sleeves, her smiling, her snapping at him for no reason, her raising her eyebrow mockingly.

It was all there, but she wasn't.

He had arrived in the cafeteria and got himself a stale but strong coffee from the vending machine. He sat down at one of the tables and gazed out into the rain.

Why cry after her? She was an arrogant, mean, cruel, terrible, exhausting, sadistic, neurotic... what? She was all those things. She was incredibly annoying. How came still all he wanted to do was press his lips onto hers every time he saw her?

During the past twenty years they had never spent as much time together as they had over the last days, so he had never actually allowed himself to admit that it was indeed a problem.

But it wasn't anymore, he realized while he finished the last of the horrible coffee. She was gone. Had returned to her world that was hardly any better than this. He tried to ignore the hunger pains in his stomach. Although he felt weak and hungry, he couldn't get himself to eat. He had never had a problem with that, he wondered. Why now?

After a moment of staring into the darkness outside thoughtfully, he finally got up and walked back to Amanda's room. This was a backlash, but he would be able to help Amanda in another way. He had always managed to help in the past. He didn't need Parker to accomplish what he was striving for.

He opened the door to Amanda's room and gasped at the figure standing next to her bed. Miss Parker turned her head towards him when he stepped in. She looked like something from a horror movie in the half-darkness, still wearing her coat that was soaked with rain just like her hair was.

Still, Jarod couldn't remember ever having been so fascinated by a woman.

"Quit staring at me like that, Jarod," she said quietly not to wake Amanda. "I know I have looked better in my life."

"I thought you had gone," he said, barely able to hide his joy at her return.

"And leave the poor girl for you to care for? Please. I don't hate her that much."

He noticed that her hand was resting on Amanda's forehead. No- she didn't hate her at all.

"She will be okay," he said. "I told you that."

She shook her head. "I didn't hear a single word you told me, Jarod."

He smiled wearily. "You were talking about Faith, Miss Parker. But you don't need to worry. It won't be like that with Amanda. I would like to repeat what I said earlier."

"Please," she said, nodding while fresh raindrops that had been caught in her hair rolled down her cheeks.

"She experienced something that is called psychogenic nonepileptic seizures. That means she doesn't suffer from epilepsy, but from post traumatic stress of which I think we both know where it comes from. Those seizures may return, but there is also a possibility that they will not, since there is no physical illness that causes them.."

Miss Parker took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Thank god."

He crossed over to her and gently but carefully placed his hand on her shoulder to give her support without crossing into her space.

"I'm glad you came back."

She looked into his eyes. "I was almost on my way to the airport, Jarod."

"What made you turn back?" he asked.

She hesitated for a long moment, then looked up at him solemnly.

"I realized that her life will be just as screwed up as mine if I don't help her. She feels safe with me, Jarod. I can't leave her now just because I am to weak to deal with my own past."

"You're not weak," he said with conviction.

"I know." Her sad face finally turned into a smile. "That's exactly why I came back."

For some reason neither of them pulled back, but instead remained standing where they were.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Miss Parker suddenly said after for a while there had been nothing to be heard except the sound of the thundering rain outside.

"What do you mean?" he asked. They were still whispering in order to avoid disturbing Amanda's sleep.

"My lip," she said. "But you never got to finish your sentence."

"What sentence?"

"I asked why you wanted to know about my lip and you said you thought you would..."

She trailed off and brought her face slightly closer to his before she continued:

"What was it you would have done?"

"It's not actually something you talk about so much."

"Really?" She tilted her head to one side and he knew that all he had to do was lean forward to kiss her as he had wanted to do so badly back in the aquarium.

So what was he waiting for?