Despite the fact that he couldn't have been much happier, Jarod felt a slight uncomfortable silence as he began walking with his father and Emily. They had very little past to talk about, none of them knew what was going on now, and the future was uncertain, leaving their topics of discussion narrow. "How's Gemini?" Jarod asked finally, breaking the long quiet.

"He's well," Charles answered, smiling. "Emily and I figured that he would be safer with someone else, so for now he staying with some friends of Emily's. He and Ethan."

"Ethan contacted you?" Jarod said, feeling relief flood through his body. Ethan's disappearance had been a large part of his worries recently, but he had done his best to put it out of his mind and deal with it later. Hearing that he was with Gemini - and alive - was a huge weight off his chest.

"Yes, he's been with us for a couple weeks now," Charles nodded. "He said he'd stay with Gemini, but to send you his well-wishes."

"The family Gemini and Ethan are staying with, they have two children, about his age," Emily said, smiling contentedly. "Hopefully he'll be safe and happy there." She sighed thoughtfully. "Seeing him is like seeing you as the brother I never got to see as a child. It's nice."

"And for me, the son I missed so dearly," Charles added, patting Jarod on the shoulder. "I –" he stopped abruptly and frowned. "What was that?" The three of them spun around, looking up and down the path. Jarod's eyes darted around each tree, looking and listening for someone who might be following them. "It was right back there, in the bushes," Charles said, his voice hushed. "It sounded like a footstep."

There was total quiet while all three of them stood, tensed and ready for any sudden noise or movement. Jarod felt his heart sinking; it would be so typical - he finally finds part of his family, and The Centre is there to steal it away from him yet again. After a full minute of unnerved waiting, Emily shifted and began to whisper, "I don't hear any –." She shrieked in fright as Jarod shoved her and their father out of the way as a gun fired, a bullet exploding on a rock behind them, missing her by inches.

"Look OUT!" Jarod shouted, scrambling to his feet. He had caught a glimpse of someone taking off into the trees after the gun had fired, and his feet were pounding after them, as though they were independent of his brain, which was telling him to run with his family and hide. "GO FIND MOM!" he shouted back at them as he spotted a man in a black suit leaping over a patch of moss. "GO!" He followed the man through the trees, squinting as branch after branch scratched his face and stung his eyes. He was catching up to the man now – just a couple more seconds and he would have him.

Jarod gasped as he felt his foot catch on a root. He saw the large rock as his head approached it, and for a split second felt his head rumble with impact and his forehead split against he roughness. Then he remembered no more.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Miss Parker stepped off the boat and clutched her coat a little more tightly around her chest. Looking around at the small town in front of her, she drew a picture of Jarod out of her pocket, prepared to send every resident of the island through a polygraph if that was what it would take to find him. After a well-spent bribe of fifty dollars, one of the boat operators had informed her that Jarod had in fact visited the marina across from her hotel in Great Yarmouth not long before and had taken a boat here, 'here' being a small island off of Scotland. After another, and much loftier, bribe, she had convinced the man to take her there immediately. Now she stood looking at the tiny village, sure that this time, Jarod wasn't far.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a voice behind her said, and she turned around into a wrinkled, smiling face. She uncomfortably turned the corners of her mouth up into what she hoped resembled a smile and briefly shook the stumpy-fingered hand. "Name's Michael McFarnon."

"Miss Parker," she said heavily, and he chuckled

McFarnon chuckled. "Miss Parker? That's a little formal for these here parts."

"That's what everyone calls me," she said briskly. Not wanting to waste any time, she held the photo out and asked, "Have you seen this man?"

McFarnon smiled and nodded, but didn't look at the picture. Miss Parker held it up to his face, but he brushed it away and said, "Smart man that Jarod. He left just two days ago. He told me you'd be coming to look for him. This time, he said, he expected you to meet up with him. There's something he wanted me to show you, follow me."

"Where did he go?" Miss Parker asked, but McFarnon had already started walking away, with a surprisingly quick step for someone his age, and she hurried to catch up.

It wasn't a far walk to the quaint cottage McFarnon brought her to. Straight from the docks, it was only five minutes in from the village's border. It sat on a flat, plain lot, that still had the feel of a one-time beautifully cared for garden. Miss Parker couldn't help but admire the little house, despite her spinning head.

"This is it," McFarnon said, sighing and resting a hand on the peeling fence. "He said you'd be interested in the little girls who used to visit here."

Miss Parker tore her eyes off the house and whipped her head around to look at him. "What little girls?" she asked, her gut already screaming the answer at her.

"His mother Margaret, for one. And her little sister."

"Sister?" Miss Parker repeated faintly, saying it like a question, but suddenly, she exactly who it was.

"Yes," Mr. McFarnon nodded. "Little Catherine." Miss Parker closed her eyes and took a deep breath, putting a hand on her forehead to stop the nausea that started flooding from her head down to her stomach. "Well, I'll be damned, that's the same reaction Jarod had. What does it mean to you, Miss Parker?" McFarnon asked, putting a hand on Miss Parker's shoulder. She was too confused and dizzy to bat it away.

"Catherine was…is my mother," Miss Parker said, leaning against the fence, her eyes still closed.

McFarnon stared at her for a second, brow furrowed, and then slowly a grim look appeared on his face. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, sighing apologetically. "That can't be, Miss," he said softly. "She was reported dead when she was just a little girl. You must have made a mistake."

"This is no mistake," Miss Parker said hoarsely. "Jarod doesn't make mistakes. Trust me."

When her phone rang, her initial instinct was to smash it to pieces on the ground and leave; go anywhere else in the world, forget every bit of her life up till this point and start a new. But she'd tried that before, and it hadn't worked. Maybe, just maybe, for the first time, she was on a path that would lead to something. Perhaps this was a little shortcut that would bring her beyond the dead ends; what did she have to lose in answering anyway? "What is it?" she answered the phone finally.

"Miss Parker, it's me," Broots said hurriedly. "My God, we thought you'd never pick up!"

She sighed. "Broots, I'm not –."

"We know where you are," he interrupted her, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "And so do Lyle and Rains. They're coming to get you. They want you dead, Miss Parker."

"What?" she said, running her fingers through her hair anxiously and stepping away from McFarnon. "How do you know that?"

"Angelo helped us listen in to a conversation between Mr. Rains and Lyle. They think you know too much, and that you're helping Jarod."

"I have no idea where Jarod is!" she said, rationalizing that it wasn't a complete lie. "Listen, Broots, you and Sydney get out of there. And don't call me anymore – they might have bugged your phone." She hung up and stuffed the phone roughly back into her pocket. She let out a deep breath, racing through her thoughts as she tried to put the pieces together. "McFarnon," she started, but before she could say anything, he raised his hand to silence her.

"I know where Jarod is."

Miss Parker blinked. "What? How? Where is he?"

"He went to look for his mother," McFarnon said, waving a hand towards the menacing mountains the encased an entire side of the town. "By that narrow pass - it's the only way out of the village other than the boat you got off."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked, frowning at him skeptically.

"Why wouldn't I?" McFarnon asked, smiling. "I'm telling you the truth just like I told Jarod." He sighed, "And I suspect Jarod's waiting for you; he knew you'd be coming through here, and he said you'd be on his tail in a matter of days. You should go after him."

"You're right," she nodded. "Thank you, for everything. McFarnon, if anyone comes through here asking about me or Jarod, please, don't tell them where we are."

"I won't," McFarnon promised. "Go to the store and get some supplies, it's not a short walk." She nodded and reached for her wallet, beginning to jog towards the middle of town. "Good luck Miss Parker. And take my advice as an old man," he added, and she had to turn now to see him. "Happiness is a choice."

She furrowed her brow at him. "I was never given choices," she said shortly.

"You don't need to be given choices," he told her, smiling sadly. "You just need to make them. Life's too short." She waited, assuming he was going to complete the thought - life's too short to...? But he didn't. Instead, he sat on a stone wall, waving her on to the town, and she set off again. 'Life's too short' to...the choice was hers.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sydney dumped the contents of a deep drawer into a large bag, then turned to Broots. "Important personal belonging," he explained. "Ready?"

"To get out of here?" Broots said, giving a nervous chuckle. "I've been waiting fifteen years. Let's go."

Broots turned to Angelo, who sat on Sydney's chair, spinning in circle while he waited for them to go. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Broots stopped his spinning, and Angelo grinned dizzily at them. "Come on, Angelo," Sydney said, extending a hand to help him up. "It's time for us to leave." He headed for his office door, Angelo and Broots right behind him. He swung it open and started down the long hall, looking around him for signs of anyone following them. "Let's go," he said, waving the other two on. "It's safe."

They went down the long hallways, their heads down. Each carried bags from their offices, but despite that tried to look discrete. Angelo was a quiet as either of them, and though his hands were empty but for a half-eaten bag of cracker jacks, he looked uncomfortable. Broots realized that he knew as well as they did the dangers of escaping - he just hoped Angelo would know what to do if they were caught, because he certainly didn't

Halfway out of The Centre, Broots stopped dead in his tracks, raising a hang to halt Sydney and Angelo. "What's that?" he whispered, looking anxiously down the hall. It wasn't too loud, but it sounded like it was getting closer. It was a rhythmic thumping, not unlike the beat of a heart - very sinister, threatening heart. "It's getting louder!"

"Hide," Sydney hissed, darting off the side of the hall and opening one of the office doors. Broots and Angelo sped in behind him, and all three of them duck and peered out of the small window in the door.

At first they saw nothing. Then, the army of black-suited men turned a corner and came into view. "Oh my God!" Broots hissed, ducking out of view. "Look at all the sweepers!" Sweepers, in pairs of two, were in step with one another, almost marching down the hall. They were in two neat columns, like soldiers heading off to battle.

"Where are they going?" Broots asked Sydney, woefully rubbing his head.

"I could ask you three the same thing." Sydney, Broots, and Angelo spun around and pressed themselves up against the wall in their sudden shock. Willie emerged from the shadows in the office's corner, his hand inside his jacket, poised over his gun. He drew it and pointed it towards Broots's chest, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow threateningly as he waited for their answer.

"We're taking Angelo out with us," Sydney said slowly, and the calm he had had while lying to Lyle earlier was wavering now. "Jarod's latest hideout. We thought that maybe it would help if Angelo looked at some of his belongings in their proper environment. The group of sweepers startled him, so we came in here."

"Do you have authorization from Mr. Rains?" Willie asked skeptically, gun not budging.

"Yes," Sydney said coolly, tightening the grip on his bag. "And we really have to be going, the jet is waiting."

"Not so fast," Willie said, taking out his cell phone. "I'm going to make a little call to Mr. Rains."

Sydney knew he had only one chance. He swung his bag up, catching Willie square in the side of the head before he could send the call. Willie stumbled to the ground, his head clanging into the desk on the way down. Sydney peered briefly at Willie before turning and opening the door. "Let's go!" he said. "Run!" He swung the door open and bolted out, Broots and Angelo running just behind him. Broots glanced back nervously as they ran, and he could just see the last pair of sweepers turning the corner away from them, oblivious to the attack on their comrade.

"Geeze, Sydney, Lyle and Willie in one day – Mr. Rains is gonna kill us," Broots stuttered, and he didn't mean it as a figure of speech.

"He would kill us," Sydney corrected him, "but he is not going to find us." They ran out the large door into the parking lot, buzzing by the sweeper guarding it, who may or may not have been sleeping behind his dark sunglasses. They raced past the rows of cars till they got to the very back, where Sydney had parked that morning, which seemed like decades ago. He hit the remote to unlocked it, swung the back open, and threw his bag in the trunk. "Come on, in here," he said, motioning for Angelo and Broots.

Broots rushed into the passenger's seat, shutting the door behind him, but Angelo froze, shaking his head suddenly and backing away. "Angelo, hurry!" Broots told him. "Come on, get in the backseat!"

"He's afraid of the car," Sydney said. "It's all right Angelo. Come on, you'll be safer in here." He extended a hand and slowly led Angelo through the open back door. He gave a small whimper as he slunk nervously into the backseat, clutching onto the headrest in front of him. "Good," Sydney said gently. "Now stay there. It's going to be all right."

"Syd! Syd, look!," Broots shouted, pointing behind them. The doors of The Centre were opening; the stream of sweepers they had seen earlier rushed out the door, a jogging Mr. Rains in their midst, his oxygen cradled in his arms as he tried to run. Sydney dove in next to Broots and shoved his keys into the ignition. The engine roared as he sped backwards out of the parking spot, then gave a screech as he put it in drive and pressed the pedal to the ground. "Let's go, go, go, go, GO!" Broots said, fumbling as he tried to put his seatbelt on while Sydney took a sharp corner towards the exit.

They flew towards the gate, Sydney deciding to take a shortcut across the grass. They could hear a siren wailing behind them, but none of the three men dared look back. At the gate guard, Sydney crashed through the rail, sending it straight behind him and leaving a decent-sized dent in his hood.

"Well," Broots said, slumping down in his seat as they pulled onto the main road. "We won't be welcomed back here."