A/N: Here's a little something in honor of the New Year AND Miss Parker's birthday. I KNOW there are people out there awaiting more Devotion but my muse is feeling all sappy and romantic and I DO NOT argue with her!

Disclaimer: I haven't the faintest idea WHO owns them anymore. The only thing of which I am certain is that it ain't me. No money changing hands so, whoever you are, you can chill out.


Brand New Year
by Ginger


"Jarod! I think you'd better come down here!"

His father's tone set off alarm bells in Jarod. He'd heard a car coming up the drive but had dismissed it, assuming it was his sister and clone returning from a grocery run in town. Could the Centre have found them? And after he'd taken so many precautions to make sure that he could safely spend the holidays with his father, Em and James, which is the name the clone had chosen for himself. He'd even gone so far as ceasing all contact with the Centre weeks before making his way up to a cabin in the Adirondack Mountains the weekend before Christmas to join his family. This meant no communication with Sydney or Miss Parker, not so much as a single clue or red notebook. It meant no information flowing the other way either. He'd left his cell phone, lap top, and even the DSA player, in a secure location hundreds of miles away, just in case the Centre chose this particular moment in time to catch on about Angelo.

It had been surprisingly unpleasant for him, cutting himself off from the Centre and especially the team charged with dragging him back, but he had done so willingly, and without reservation, for his family. They had enjoyed a lovely Christmas together and were planning to have an equally pleasant New Year. Best laid plans: it was two days before the start of a brand new year and he'd likely succeeded not only in getting himself captured, but also virtually all of his immediate family. Alex had been right; he was a danger to the people he loved.

"What is it, Dad?" he called out frantically as he bounded down the stairs.

Standing beside the open front door and gesturing outside the Major replied, "She won't come in. She insists that you go out to her."

"Zoe?" Jarod asked as he cleared the last step, feeling slightly relieved.

She had not taken it at all well when he'd ended their relationship after his return from Carthis. Those days with Miss Parker had turned his world upside down, in more ways than one, and he just didn't feel as though he could make the commitment that Zoe deserved, especially when being with him required so many sacrifices on her part. She had responded first with denial then with anger and hysterics, and he feared that she might turn up again one day, although he had no idea how she would find him.

"No, not Zoe," his father replied gravely as Jarod reached the door.

Stepping into the doorway, Jarod's eyes grew wide and his earlier anxiety returned tenfold. He quickly scanned the area but all he saw was one unfamiliar, but apparently empty, vehicle. Still, there could be a dozen others waiting at the end of the drive. He listened carefully for the sound of choppers but heard nothing but a light wind rustling the snow covered trees. Then he focused his gaze on her, glowering.

"So help me God, Parker," he warned menacingly, but then her appearance began to register and he stepped out onto the porch, blinking in incomprehension.

"Parker?" he repeated more softly.

She stood shivering at the foot of the porch steps. Her face was ghostly pale and blotchy, as though she'd been crying, a fact supported by her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. Jarod's anger melted away but his anxiety increased.

"Parker?" he implored, fear permeating his voice.

She appeared poised to speak but instead pressed a hand to her forehead, closed her eyes and swayed slightly from side to side. Jarod took the porch steps two at a time to reach her before she fell over, beside himself with worry as she collapsed against him and began to sob. Slipping his arms gingerly around her shaking body, he pleaded softly into her hair,

"Please, Parker, please tell me what's the matter. What's happened? Please."

"Jarod," the Major called from the house. "It's freezing out there and you don't have a jacket on. You both need to come inside."

"I know, Dad," he called back. "We'll be right in."

Pulling back but keeping his arms securely around her, he advised gently, "Come on, let's go inside where it's warm and we can ta..."

Sensing dampness on his chest, Jarod blinked in horror at the sight of blood on his shirt and exclaimed, "You're injured!" before unceremoniously hauling Miss Parker into his arms. As he swiftly carried her up the porch steps, she finally uttered,

"N... no, Jarod... the car."

"What?" he replied distractedly, determined to get her indoors to assess the severity of her wound or wounds.

"You have to get him!" she protested, pounding weakly at his chest.

"What?" he repeated more alertly. "Get who?"

"The baby," she managed to get out before her eyes fluttered shut.

"BABY?"

Jarod stopped dead in his tracks on the porch with an unconscious Miss Parker in his arms. Turning to stare at the SUV she'd arrived in he again muttered incredulously,

"Baby?"

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Pt. 2
By Ginger


After watching Jarod pace for almost an hour, Charles finally felt compelled to say, "Son, you are going to wear a groove in the floor if you keep that up."

"Sorry, Dad," he replied wanly then resumed pacing as he continued, "She WOULD choose NOW to pull something like this! If I'd only known I could have helped her. Instead she HAD to do it all on her own, getting herself shot in the process. Stubborn, impossible woman," he grumbled.

Oh dear, his father thought, emitting a heavy sigh. But then, Jarod's words only served to confirm what he'd already demonstrated, dramatically, hours earlier.

* * * *

Immediately following Parker's arrival, the cabin had been in an uproar. Em and James had returned shortly thereafter and barely had time to express shock over the arrival of an unexpected visitor or, rather, visitors. They were immediately sent out again to find Doc Donohue, who had proven himself a trusted family friend since their arrival months earlier, as well as becoming the Major's regular fishing companion before the lake had frozen over for the winter. Jarod had hastily scrawled a list of items for the doctor to bring with him: medical supplies sufficient to turn his room into a makeshift hospital room.

They returned in short order with the doctor, who stood by in stupefied silence as Jarod tended to Miss Parker's wounded shoulder. The Major joined him in stupefaction as he watched his son literally open a vein for the woman who was, by all accounts, his sworn enemy. His son never took his eyes off her as he completed the transfusion, the look on his face as the blood left his body and entered hers something that Charles would never forget.

"We're the same type," Jarod announced, finally awknowledging that there was anyone else in the room as he carefully removed the needle on one end of the tubing from the well in her arm then replaced it with the needle from the IV. "But she's been transfused before - once for a perforated ulcer and once for a.... previous gunshot wound. She may have antibodies."

Raising an eyebrow, the doctor observed, "You'd never know it to look at her but she must be one tough lady."

Removing the needle from his own arm and slapping a piece of gauze over the puncture wound, he replied, "You have no idea," adding, "In addition to the antibiotics, I was planning to administer 50 mg of diphenhydramine hydrocholoride and 200 mg of acetaminophen every four hours to reduce the risk of an immune reaction.

"Yes," the doctor concurred with a nod. "Standard procedure when the match is less than ideal. But something tells me you already knew that."

Jarod shrugged and said, "Yeah, but it never hurts to get a second opinion." Sweeping his hand across her forehead then lifting her wrist to check her pulse he added, "I have no idea how long she was walking around like this. The last thing she needs right now is a complication of any kind."

"Her vitals are stable and her color is already improving. Just monitor her closely and keep her hydrated." The doctor checked the IV bag and continued, "And let the antibiotics and other meds do their job. She sounds like a fighter."

"She is," the Major piped in, stepping forward to place a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Meanwhile," the doctor commented wryly. "I need to be getting back to the clinic soon which, lucky for all of us, closed at noon today. I have to record these supplies and meds without mentioning a gun shot wound which, incidentally gentlemen, I am compelled by law to report to the authorities."

Jarod looked away from his patient and up at the doctor who remarked, "And since I have no intention of doing so, I am betting my career that they will not find out another way."

"Thank you," Jarod offered warmly.

"Your dad knows where to find me if you need me," Dr. Donohue replied with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear there's a little tyke around here somewhere that you'd like me to have a look at." On his way out the door, the doctor stopped, turned and advised,

"Oh, and Jarod, plenty of fluids for you too. It won't do your patient any good if you pass out on her."

* * * *

Recalling the doctor's warning, Charles gently coaxed, "Son, please sit down and have another glass of juice. Miss Parker is stable and resting comfortably. You said yourself that it's a clean wound; the bullet went clear through. And Doc says the boy is in fine shape, very healthy."

"Well, they do raise us healthy, like prized cattle," Jarod sneered then softened, dropped his head and uttered, "I just wish she'd have asked for my help."

Shrugging, his father offered, "Maybe she felt it was something that she had to do herself. He is her flesh and blood, after all. Besides, she did seek your help and she's getting it."

"Look who's up!" Emily chirped as she entered the room with the child in her arms. "Apparently, he sleeps about as much as you do, Jarod."

"Hello there," he said with something approximating a smile for the first time all day. "I can see a resemblance, the way he's looking around, determined not to miss a trick. Just like his sister."

The approximation of a smile blossomed into the genuine article, which wasn't lost on either his father or his sister, who exchanged a look. The child began squirming and, taking the hint, Emily set him down. He immediately teetered over to Jarod, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Pardon me," he said, crouching down to hold out his hand to the child. "But we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Jarod and I'm an old friend of your sister. We're taking very good care of her and she's going to be fine."

The boy grabbed Jarod's index finger with his pudgy little hand and squeezed it then shook his head no.

"What is it? Are you worried about Miss Parker? I promise, your sister will be fine. She just needs to sleep right now."

"No!" the boy exclaimed, the defiant gleam in his eye again reminding Jarod of the woman in question even though his eyes were a very different color - light brown with flecks of deep green.

"Your sister..."

"No!" the boy repeated then declared, "Ma!"

"Yes," Jarod replied softly with a sweet smile as he stroked his thumb across the child's dimpled knuckles. "I suppose she is, isn't she?"

* * * *

"I'm glad you're here," James whispered, slipping his hand tenderly over hers. "And I hope you're feeling better soon."

He had gladly volunteered to sit with Parker and give Jarod a much- needed break. Even now, injured and unconscious, she was as beautiful as he remembered, this woman who was the first person to ever show him real kindness. He knew she was supposed to be on the opposite side. She worked for THEM after all. And, yet, he never felt anything but warmth when he thought of her. Now she was here and he could finally tell her what he'd been afraid to tell another living soul, even Jarod, for fear that they'd think he were crazy.

"My name is James," he stated softly then his gaze fell to her hand, so small and delicate in relation to his own. He had grown up since their encounter at the Centre; he was a young man now. With a fortifying breath he continued, "Everyone thinks I chose it myself but I didn't. I had a dream and in it this woman came to me. She was beautiful like you. In fact, she looked like you but, somehow, I knew it wasn't you. She called me James and it sounded right so I knew it was my name."

He smiled, leaned forward and pressed his lips to the top of her hand then whispered, "That was your mother, wasn't it?"

"Mama?"

James sprang into an upright position and met her half-open, groggy eyes. He was about to bolt from his chair and tell the others that she was awake but was stopped by the sensation of her hand on his, faintly squeezing.

"Mama gave you your name?" she asked in a soft, raspy voice.

Her voice may have been weak but her eyes were already growing more alert, conveying that single-mindedness Jarod had always complained about. James didn't see anything wrong with it; as far as he was concerned, she was spectacular.

Sitting back in his chair he grinned and replied, "Yes, I believe she did."

# # # #

A/N: In response to the previous installment, someone pointed out that Miss Parker's blood type was alluded to on the show and that it is O, and therefore not the same as Jarod's, AB neg. I somehow managed to miss that and, since she's a red file, I thought it made complete sense for her to have the rarest of blood types too. If the only mention of Parker's blood type is at the beginning of "At the Hour of Our Death" (thanks for checking, Pam!), when she is rushed to the hospital because of her ulcer, then I propose that she could have been given O (universal donor) neg blood as the best chance to save her life in an emergency, when it would have taken too long to get a hold of AB neg. (Too many clauses, I know, but I'm very sleepy right now!) If it's firmly established elsewhere then y'all are just going to have to bear with me, forget it was ever mentioned, or assume she was lied to about her blood type (Why not? She was lied to about everything else!). The image of Jarod opening a vein for her is just too appealing to me to let it go. Besides, y'all swallowed (okay, Lisa didn't) that it was scientifically possible to donate Kyle's heart AFTER he expired (tissue begins to die immediately when deprived of oxygen - it's called decomposition, kids!) and somebody GOT PAID to write that!

Oh, and see Part 1 for disclaimer!:-)


Brand New Year, Part 3
By Ginger


"This is Sydney."

"Happy New Year, Sydney," Jarod offered solemnly, shivering and pulling his coat collar up around his neck as he stood at a pay phone in the sleepy mountain town.

"Jarod! You have been so quiet lately, I was beginning to worry!"

"Indeed I have, and I was wondering if there's anything going on that I should know about."

"I was about to ask you the same thing. There has been trouble at the Centre."

"Really," Jarod uttered sardonically. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Apparently, Miss Parker has disappeared with the Parker child. I know nothing of the details, only that Broots and I were interrogated for nearly twelve hours. We were finally successful in convincing Raines and Lyle that, if she did premeditate this, she did not share her plans with us."

"With the assistance of a polygraph and a healthy dose of thiopental sodium, no doubt," the younger man commented wryly.

"Well, yes, but at least they are now confident that we played no role in the child's abduction."

"'Abduction?' Funny, that's not the word that leaps to mind. I think 'liberation' has a nicer ring to it. Sooo... Miss Parker has finally done the right thing. I think you're all in for a long winter because hell has just frozen over."

"This is not a joke, Jarod. If you know anything about it, I think you should tell me. It is imperative that she return immediately, for her own good and the good of the child. There is no refuge out there for either of them."

Smiling, Jarod offered, "If I happen to run into her, I'll relay the message," then severed the connection.

* * * *

He literally burst into the room, breathless and still wearing his coat and clutching his car keys. Hearing him drive up, Emily had gone out to tell Jarod that Parker was awake then had the foresight to quickly step aside and allow him to charge past her into the house. With a nod, the Major signalled to James that it was their cue to leave and they slipped quietly out of the room.

"Where the hell have YOU been?"

Smiling and shaking his head he removed his jacket and carelessly cast it aside then approached the bed explaining,

"Well, if you MUST know, I was in town taking care of a little business. I wanted to check on Sydney to make sure that he and Broots were okay, and to let him know that you and the baby were safe. He sends his best."

"Mmmm..." she groaned, attempting to sit up. "Poor Syd... He must have been worried sick. I couldn't tell him or Broots... for their own safety as well as mine... and Michael's."

Placing a hand gently on her uninjured right shoulder, Jarod advised, "Take it easy; this isn't a race. Sydney told me as much. I don't think he and Broots are in any danger, for the time being anyway." Pondering a moment he smiled and added, "So, you've named him Michael."

"He needed a name; he's nineteen months old. I've always thought Michael was a nice name so that's what I've been calling him. What do you think?"

A bit startled by the question, he blinked a few times, pressed his hand to her forehead and remarked, "Uh-oh, you must be delirious. Since when have you cared about MY opinion?"

"Stow the comedy act, Shecky. I've suffered enough." Pausing a moment, she inquired in a much softer tone, "How is he?"

"He's fine. We had a doctor take a look at him, a friend of the family we can trust who provided all this..." He gestured around the room and continued, "And he's a healthy boy. Em's been great with him and he, Dad and James are becoming fast friends. And it's a great name, Parker," he stated with a warm, encouraging smile. "It suits him," he tacked on before turning to grab the thermometer, blood pressure cuff, and stethoscope.

"Which reminds me," he commented, smirking at her vaguely incensed expression as he proceeded to wrap the cuff around her arm and slip the thermometer under her tongue. "When you're feeling better, we're going to have a long talk about this." He put on the stethoscope and blew on the chestpiece to warm it up then added, "I want to hear all about it. Besides, there are decisions to be made. It's a brand new life for you, Miss Parker. In the meantime, you are going to do exactly as 'Dr. Jarod' tells you to."

His smirk turned into a full blown chuckle as she shot him a trademark glare. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was when her feathers were ruffled.

"Ah, I can tell you're feeling better already," he observed with a cheeky grin as he inflated the blood pressure cuff and pressed the stethoscope to the inside of her elbow.

* * * *

Jarod jerked awake to find himself in a chair at Parker's bedside, which was where he'd been virtually every moment since she regained consciousness the evening before. He leaned forward and gently grasped her wrist then took her pulse, which was strong and steady. A faint light was streaming into the room, the sun rising on the last day of the year.

He ran a hand over his face and yawned then stood up and stretched before checking the IV bag. Parker's color was good. This morning he'd try giving her clear liquids and, if they stayed down, he'd remove the IV. He smiled, recalling the way she'd snarled at him when he approached her with a bed pan the night before.

"Over YOUR dead body, Wonderboy," had been her reaction and, even though he'd have preferred she not attempt to get out of bed until morning, he relented and enlisted Emily's assistance in getting Parker to the bathroom, IV and all.

"Like a lioness with a thorn in her paw," he whispered tenderly.

"Hmmm?" she moaned, her eyes opening slowly.

"I said you're like a lioness with a thorn in your paw," he replied with smile.

"Yeah, whatever. What time is it?" she asked on a yawn.

"A little after seven; the sun's coming up. How's the pain? Would you like me to get you something?"

She shook her head and yawned again then said, "But I wouldn't mind sitting up; my back is getting stiff."

He helped Parker maneuver into a seated position then adjusted the pillows behind her to make her more comfortable. He then turned to reach for something but she stopped him with a gentle squeeze to his forearm.

"Thank you, Jarod."

"It's funny," he remarked with a sigh as he sank back into his chair. "Despite everything that's happened to me, to us, over the years, I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined spending the holidays like this."

"Not exactly what the family had in mind, I'm sure. And they're being a hell of a lot nicer to me than I deserve."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, Parker," he stated as he swiveled in his seat to retrieve the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. He was again interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he called then proceeded with the task at hand.

"Hi," Emily said in a loud whisper as she padded into the room with a warm bundle in her arms. "We heard voices as we were passing by and thought you might like a visitor."

Michael was quiet but immediately put his arms out when he saw Parker. Her answering smile was so unguarded, so loving, that Jarod was awestruck. He just hovered - his hand still clutching the blood pressure pump, the chestpiece to his stethoscope swaying to and fro - and stared at her.

"I think we can do that later, genius," Emily advised with a smirk as she nudged him out of the way to carefully set the boy down on Parker's right side.

"Hello there, little man," Parker greeted softly then mouthed "thank you" to Emily who smiled and nodded in reply.

"How are you today?" she asked sweetly. "I see you've got new PJs. I do believe red is your color, kiddo."

"Thank God for Walmart," Emily quipped. "There's nothing cuter than footie pajamas. James picked out the color, by the way."

Michael grinned and reached up to touch Parker's cheek but then his expression turned earnest. Furrowing his brow, he looked around then pointed to the IV in her arm, his eyes tracking the tubing all the way up to the bag. With one stick-straight index finger he gingerly touched the blood pressure cuff then blinked up at her.

"It's okay," she soothed. "I've got a little boo-boo on my left shoulder but I'm going to be fine."

"Let me get rid of this," Jarod interjected. Slowly undoing the velcro to avoid frightening the child he explained, "It comes off like this. See?"

Tossing the cuff aside he sat down and just basked in the warmth and beauty before him. His affection for her washed over him like a wave. The feelings were not new, they had always been there, but the intensity was. Or maybe it was that he'd been caught off guard by the extreme circumstances, and failed to brace himself against the onslaught. The only thing Jarod knew for sure was that he'd give anything for this woman and child to be his.

He would settle, of course, for doing everything in his power - everything she'd let him - to build a safe future for her and her baby brother. And she had come to him for help. That was something, wasn't it?

* * * *

Jarod poked his head in the doorway to find Parker seated in an easy chair by the window, out of which she was staring blankly. He paused a moment and just watched her. She was a million miles away. The imminent danger having passed, he imagined the weight of what she had done was beginning to sink in. She had embarked upon a course of action that would drastically and permanently change her life. There was no turning back. Miss Parker was now, and would forever be, a Centre fugitive. Just like him.

"It's good to see you up," he remarked softly as he stepped into the room.

"It's a lot easier without having to drag that IV around."

"You're tolerating the clear liquids so I'm fairly optimistic that the IV is gone for good. Later on, if you're up to it, we could try a little Jello or, maybe, if you're feeling adventurous, some pudding." He wagged his eyebrows and grinned.

"Yippee," she commented with a roll of her eyes.

"Miss Parker," he chided playfully as he pulled a chair up beside hers and sat down. "That's hardly a festive attitude for New Year's Eve. I hope you're not going to be a party pooper."

"Well, pardon me, if I'm not feeling particularly festive. Getting shot tends to dampen my mood. I didn't know if I'd even make it here."

"But you did," he stated with an encouraging smile. "And you and Michael are safe and free. Funny, it didn't dawn on me to ask until Emily mentioned it this morning, but how on earth did you find me?"

Shrugging she replied distractedly, "Just knew where you were; don't know how," then added wistfully, "What's he doing now?"

"Last I saw him, he was dumping a bowl of Cheerios over his head." Jarod chuckled and continued, "You should have seen the look he shot me when I tactfully dissuaded him from eating them off the floor: quintessential Parker."

His amusement was curtailed by the pained look on her face, compelling him to inquire softly, "What is it?"

"I'm no expert but as kids go he's pretty cute, isn't he?"

"He's adorable," he replied bemusedly.

"So... you like him?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course I like him!" Frowning he crossed his arms and insisted, "I think it's time we had that talk, Parker. I need to know what this is all about."

She took a deep breath, looked him squarely in the eye and inquired, "How attached are you to that whole itinerant, do-gooder lifestyle?"

"Why?" he responded warily.

"Because you'll have to give it up when you and Michael disappear."

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.


Brand New Year, Pt. 4
By Ginger


"He's a child of the Centre, isn't he?" Parker challenged. "You made a new life for Davy Simpkins, wherever the hell he is. You rescued James. Isn't Michael worth it? Isn't he special too?"

"Of course he's special," Jarod replied. "I think he may be the most beautiful child I've ever set eyes on, but his situation is entirely different. He was not stolen from anyone. He has a family. YOU are his family, and I would never, ever deprive him of that."

"Not even if I asked you to?"

"WHY ON EARTH would you ask me to? You can't POSSIBLY be planning to go back. There's no way they'll let you get away with this. You'll wind up in Renewal Wing... or worse!"

"I'm not planning to go back," she stated resolutely. "I'm planning to run and, with a little luck, Raines and Lyle will expend the kind of energy and resources hunting me that they've wasted trying to get you back, if only out of vengeance."

Sighing, Jarod sank back into the chair he'd bolted out of when she'd made her proposal, smiled sadly and commented, "How could they? Where would they ever find someone with your passion and persistence, Miss Parker?"

"I'm serious, Jarod."

"I know you are, and the fact that you would be willing to endure that kind of life to keep him safe only proves what I already know. It was written all over your face this morning. You love him very, very much. And he loves you, Parker; he already thinks of you as his mother."

"W... what makes you say that?" she asked haltingly.

"Yesterday afternoon he referred to you as 'Ma.'"

"He did?" she rasped, lowering her eyes.

"Yes, he did, and considering everything he's been through in his short life, I wasn't about to contradict him. Just like I wouldn't dream of taking him away from the woman I watched shower him with affection this morning. No, there has to be another way, and I'll help you find it, I promise. Michael needs his sister."

"But I'm not," she whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"Not what?" Jarod inquired softly. He was tempted to reach out for her hand but refrained.

Swiping the tear away she looked up at him and said, "I'm not his sister."

"What do you mean?" he asked gravely, apprehension creeping over him like a chill.

"Mr. Parker shot blanks, remember?" she spat with a bitter laugh as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "If he wasn't able to father me as a young man, he sure as hell didn't father Michael as an old one."

Jarod swallowed hard and nodded, wondering why it hadn't dawned on him sooner. Bracing himself for yet another Centre horror story, he prompted, "Go on."

"A few months after... the island... and Mr. Parker's disappearance..."

"Wait a minute," he interrupted. "You don't call him 'Daddy' anymore."

"No," she answered with disgust then continued, "I realized that not only had I lost the only father I'd ever known, but I'd also lost my baby brother because if Mr. Parker was sterile then he certainly wasn't the baby's father. Then I started wondering who it could be. Lyle? Based on some things Broots had witnessed the year before Michael was born, that was the most logical assumption. But the baby had been moved and I hadn't seen him in months. Besides, I had the fallout of the 'new Centre order' to deal with so I tried to put it out of mind. Then I started having the dream."

"Dream?"

"I'm wandering through the Centre alone at night, following the cry of a baby. When I finally reach the room the sound is coming from, I open the door and find an empty crib. I turn to leave but Mama is standing in the doorway. She says, 'He was stolen too.' I ask her from whom but she never answers, only shakes her head and says, 'What are you going to do about it, baby?' then disappears."

"And that's when you decided to take him away from the Centre?"

"Well, not immediately. I decided I needed to see him, but that was only after doing my best to ignore the dream for about a week, until I nearly killed Broots and myself at an intersection in Falls Church, Virginia and realized it was no use. But once I decided, a voice inside me - who knows, maybe it was Mama's voice - told me that whatever I was getting myself into, I needed to do it on my own. I couldn't involve Sydney or Broots, but there was one person I could turn to."

"Angelo."

"With his help it didn't take long to find Michael. Shortly before his disapperance, Mr. Parker ordered a special nursery constructed for him on SL-19."

"Restricted Access Area. Very Secure," Jarod interjected then added with a grimace, "Like raising a child in a maximum security prision."

"Nobody on SL-19 looked very happy to see me but they couldn't turn me away because I have, or rather had, security clearance. So I began to visit him." She smiled briefly then continued, "I didn't think he'd remember me, but he seemed to or, at least, he seemed to take a liking to me anyway. He'd gotten so big; he was over a year old."

"And your interest in the baby didn't draw any unwanted attention?"

"I guess not or I wouldn't be sitting here. Raines and Lyle were preoccupied with their latest power play and paying very little attention to what I was doing, which is a damned good thing because I started going most evenings, and even on weekends whenever I could, staying later and later. It was getting harder and harder..."

"To leave him behind."

"God, yes. And every night, when I finally collapsed in bed, that same dream. Until..." Parker looked away, her face a mask of pain. "Until," she added softly, "It wasn't the same."

Jarod realized she was shaking and, alarmed, slipped out of his chair to kneel in front of her. Pressing a hand to her forehead, he said, "You've been up for quite a while and you shouldn't overdo it. Why don't you let me help you back into bed?"

Shaking her head, she insisted, "You need to know. You need to know why I'm asking this of you; why it's the only way. Please, Jarod."

Nodding he backed off and retook his seat as she continued, "About three weeks ago, around the time you went completely off the radar, the dream changed. I managed to stop Mama from disappearing by asking how I could possibly make it right if I didn't know where the baby came from. She smiled that smile of hers and said, 'But you do, baby. You do know.' And when I woke up..." Her expression became hard, her tone chilling as she stated, "I did."

Something twisted in Jarod. As if physically rejecting her words, he began to shake his head slowly.

"Did you think they'd give up?" she choked out. "Did you think they'd ever give up?"

"No," he muttered in denial as he continued to shake his head, tears welling in his eyes.

"They lost you; they lost Gemini; but they were never going to write off their investment."

"Parker, please," he pleaded, as if she had the power to make it not so by not saying it. His tears began to fall.

"I snuck out a few strands of his hair. Angelo secured a sample of your DNA for me but it was just a formality. I already knew and the look in Angelo's eyes... he knew it too."

"Goddamnit!" Jarod shouted, launching from his chair. It was the first time Parker had ever heard him utter profanity. Bracing himself against the windowsill he growled, "They used me again! They used me to impregnate the Chairman's wife, to bring a life into this world without my consent or knowledge! Another life for them to manipulate and destroy!"

"No, Jarod," Parker sighed. "Not the Chairman's wife. She was just a... vessel... a human incubator."

He slowly turned and met her eyes then demanded in a low, quivering voice, "What are you saying?"

"If one parent with the pretender gene is desirable then two is ideal."

He gasped then blurted, "HOW?"

Smiling bitterly and shaking her head, she replied, "Remember when I was hospitalized for my ulcer? Well, Mr. Parker was never one to miss an opportunity!" Closing her right arm tightly around her waist and shuddering, she remarked, "He harvested what he wanted from his precious 'Angel' without thinking twice, and all in service of creating his 'super pretender,' the 'final piece of the puzzle,' the... 'new Parker legacy.'"

Pausing to exhale deeply, she continued, "You'll find it all in a folder in the trunk of the SUV. The sick fuck was thoughtful enough to keep a record of every step. Wait until you read his notes; he really thought he'd eventually talk, or failing that, emotionally blackmail me into helping him raise Michael. Looks like that's why he wanted you back so badly, to secure the Parker line at the Centre with our progeny. Not a word of this would have come out until you were back at the Centre and fully 'reeducated,' of course. He knew how you'd react and wouldn't risk losing another valuable asset. I even think... I have a feeling... he ordered Thomas's murder to eliminate any chance of my starting a competing family of my own... although he never went so far as admitting as much so I'll never know for sure."

Either finished or unable to go on, Parker dropped her head and began to sob quietly. Jarod just stood staring dumbly at her, literally paralyzed by her words and overwhelmed by a staggering array of emotions, none of which he was capable of discerning. Then she looked up at him and her intensely sad, heartbreakingly beautiful blue eyes broke through the wall of shock.

"Miranda"

He took a step toward her but she raised a hand to stop him and said, "I'm tired. I think I need to lie down."

"Of course," he muttered. "Let me help you."

And he did, virtually lifting her out of the chair and walking her slowly over to the bed, which he also helped her into before carefully tucking the covers around her. Sweeping his hand gently across her forehead he asked,

"Are you in any pain?"

"Nothing I can't bear."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?"

"No," she replied with a faint representation of a smile. "I just need to sleep."

"Okay," he said. "I'll sit here with you."

Retrieving the chair from the window, he sat down at Parker's bedside and watched as she slowly relaxed and drifted into sleep. He remained there for some time afterwards, looking at her as though he were seeing her for the first time; taking in the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelids, and the tender rhythm of her breath. He traced every curve and angle of her face with his eyes, mapping her every feature until he couldn't stand it any longer; until the pain in his chest became unbearable; until the walls started closing in. He got up, walked swiftly but quietly out of the room and nearly sprinted down the stairs. Passing the den he heard James announce,

"This is one smart kid! You should see what he's doing with the blocks!"

"Someone needs to go up and sit with Parker, NOW!" he barked, grabbing his coat off the coat rack but not stopping to put it on.

"Jarod?" his father called from the kitchen doorway.

He did not respond, pulling open the front door then all but slamming it closed behind him. Bouncing down the porch steps, he bypassed his car, his father's car, and the SUV Parker had arrived in and just kept walking.

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Part 5
By Ginger


He walked for hours, focusing on each step as he wound his way through the snowy woods to the lake. Then he walked around the lake, four times, never lifting his eyes from the rocky, icy terrain. For all he knew, he could have been on the moon. The sheer act of walking, taking one step then another then another, was the only thing keeping his mind from reeling. In the space of a few minutes he had become someone else. Only this was no temporary change wrought by a need to be whoever or whatever the situation called for; this was forever. He was the father of a nineteen month old boy, Parker's child, and nothing would ever be the same again. On the eve of a brand new year, it was a brand new life.

* * * *

Parker spoke little all day, but did graciously accept and consume a bowl of broth the Major brought up to her and twice asked Emily to help her to the bathroom. James spent most of the afternoon at her bedside. No one asked what had happened to precipitate Jarod's hasty departure but as the hours wore on, and darkness fell, his absence was clearly on everyone's mind. Emily kept one eye on the the front door, the Major glanced at his watch every few minutes, and James grew restless and fidgety.

He returned about an hour after dark - cold, hungry and emotionally, not to mention physically, exhausted. He quietly slipped into the house and was hanging up his coat when James appeared at the top of the stairs and, looking supremely relieved, announced,

"Jarod's back!"

Emily appeared in the kitchen doorway, the Major behind her. "Can I get you something warm to drink?" she asked.

"Sorry I was gone so long," Jarod offered sheepishly. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," his sister replied. "Dinner's almost ready."

"How is she?" he inquired, addressing James.

"Fine," the young man answered. "I've offered to carry her downstairs to ring in the New Year with us."

Quirking an eyebrow Jarod asked, "And how did she take to the idea?"

"Not so well," James sighed then grinned and added, "But I'm working on it," before disappearing down the hall.

"And... Michael?" This time the question was directed at Emily.

"Right here," she replied then looked to her left and smiled.

A moment later, the child appeared in front of her carrying a little plastic cup. The sight of him nearly took Jarod's breath away. Looking back on it later, he would recall only one other moment like it in his life, and that had occurred thirty years earlier in a sim lab at the Centre.

"Jarod?"

"Hmm...?" he responded distractedly to his father without taking his eyes off the boy.

"Is everything alright?"

"Uh..." he began but did not complete the thought because Michael lurched forward, holding the cup deliberately in front of him as someone would a fragile, priceless artifact or, perhaps, an explosive device.

"What's that you've got there?" Jarod asked tenderly as he crouched down. Michael held up the cup for inspection.

"Mmm... animal crackers," he observed with a smile.

"You have a kindred spirit," the Major remarked. "You couldn't get enough of them either when you were his age."

"Really?" he inquired, looking up to meet his father's eyes.

"Really," Charles replied with a warm smile.

Jarod's gaze immediately fell back to Michael as he wondered if their shared love of animal crackers could be considered a family trait. Probably not, he concluded. After all, he'd seen lots of other kids devour them. He cataloged every feature - the shiny dark brown hair, flawless china doll skin, adorable button nose, mouth like a perfect little rosy bow - searching for any sign of himself. The hair color was a bit darker than Parker's, more like his, but the child had definitely inherited his mother's complexion. The eyes were brown, although lighter than his own, and with those spectacular flecks of deep green unlike anything he'd seen before. There was no 'may be' about it; Michael was without question the most beautiful child he'd ever set eyes on. My son, he thought, immense joy welling up inside him and bringing tears to his eyes.

Our son.

Michael appeared to be sizing him up too, his face inquisitive as he stared back at him. After a while he tilted his head to one side and, furrowing his brow, asked,

"Da?"

Jarod chuckled gleefully, nodded effusively and replied, "Yes!" then gently pulled him into his arms and held him close.

He closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation of cuddling his child, inhaling his sweet scent, and smiling through tears when he realized that Michael was still clutching the cup of animal crackers. He opened his eyes to meet the stunned expressions of his father and sister.

"I'll explain later," he mouthed then lifted the child into the air and spun him around once.

Michael laughed and then Jarod laughed because the sound of his son's laughter amazed and delighted him.

* * * *

Jarod peered into the room through the partially open door, his eyes widening at the sight of James sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Parker's hand in his. His surprise grew as he watched the young man lift her hand to his lips and press a tender kiss to it. A wave of jealousy hit him as he wondered how his clone, a person who was in many ways a younger version of himself, could get away with it. This was immediately followed by a wave of guilt as he reminded himself she had been the first, faint glimmer of light in his otherwise horrific childhood.

"C'mon, kiddo," he whispered to Michael. "Let's wish Mommy a Happy New Year."

With his free hand he knocked twice and pushed open the door then asked, "Can we come in or is this a private party?"

"Dinner ready yet?" James inquired hopefully then volunteered, "I'm starving."

"Really? I'm shocked," Jarod teased.

"Give him a break," Parker advised. "He's a growing boy."

"Yeah, I'm a growing boy!" he repeated with a cocky grin.

"Okay, growing boy, go downstairs and set the table. It's your turn, remember?"

"Uh, no, but I guess I'll take your word for it," James replied with a shrug then smiled again at Parker before rising from the bed and loping out of the room. On the way out, he stopped to tweak Michael's nose and punch Jarod in the arm.

Shaking his head, Jarod remarked, "Weird kid."

"No," Parker commented wryly. "Relatively typical adolescent, I think. He's into girls, music, computer games, girls. Although I do not believe that most kids design their own games, draw up plans for fuel cell vehicles and write rock operas in their spare time. He hasn't mentioned how he's pursuing his other interest and I'm afraid to ask. Just don't be surprised if you happen upon an extremely lifelike android hidden away somewhere that looks like someone named 'Jessica Simpson.'"

"You got all of that in one afternoon?" he asked, looking incredulous and impressed at the same time as he approached the bed and set Michael down on it. "Days will go by and we'll barely get a word out of him."

"Again, typical," she said, smiling unconsciously as her son crawled toward her. "You're family and I'm an outsider. Besides, I may be ancient but perhaps not so decrepit as to fall outside the 'girl' category. And he was doing most of the talking to keep me company, cheer me up. He's sweet... and somebody's got animal cracker breath," she added playfully, arching an eyebrow.

Michael pointed to the pocket in the bib of his denim overalls. Parker pulled it open with her index finger, looked inside and asked, "Did you put those in there?" He nodded then pointed to her mouth.

"No, thank you," she offered sweetly. "I still have to be careful what I eat because of my boo-boo but maybe Jarod would like one."

Michael turned on his hands and knees to face his father, who was now sitting in a chair next to the bed. He then sat back on his heels and stuffed his chubby little hand into the pocket to fish out a cracker, nearly toppling over more than once in the process but steadied again and again by his mother's hand. Producing a monkey, he sat up and leaned forward on one hand to offer the treat. Jarod leaned forward too, allowing his son to slip the minature primate into his mouth.

"Mmm... Thank you," he said as he chewed. "It's very good. Dad told me that I liked animal crackers when I was his age."

Nodding, Parker responded, "Emily says he's liked everything you've given him so far."

"We're being careful. No nuts of any kind and no peanut butter. And Dr. Donohue gave us an Epipen, just in case."

"He's really taken to your family; he's comfortable here."

"Yes, although he doesn't sleep much and he's quieter than most children his age. He doesn't appear to have any trouble with his hearing so it's probably just a result of social isolation. That will change soon enough because he clearly comprehends a great deal."

"He's... special... isn't he?" she inquired apprehensively.

"I haven't done any cognitive testing." He paused, frowned and added, "Nor do I plan to, but his intelligence is clearly above average. And... well... he may have other gifts as well."

"Other gifts?"

"He knew," he stated, looked knowingly into her eyes and continued, "About me. You didn't tell him, did you?"

She shook her head gravely, sadness creeping into her eyes as she wrapped her arm around Michael and pressed her lips to the top of his head. Jarod knew what she was thinking. This revelation would make her even more determined to leave their son with him and turn herself into Centre bait. He'd have his work cut out for him talking her out of it. But talk her out of it he would because Michael needed her, desperately. And so did he.

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: Two day delay with this one. Sorry. I sort of hit the wall this weekend. Remember, this I do for fun only. To keep the kitties in kitty litter, I actually hold down an EXTREMELY demanding day job! More to follow soon, I promise.


Brand New Year, Part 6
By Ginger


Be careful what you wish for.

Jarod pondered that proverb within the context of the last 24 hours of his life. The day had dawned with him wishing that Parker and Michael were his and had ended with it firmly established that they were. Well, he was. The jury was still out on her.

He sighed, frowning. The last year had in many ways been a bitter one as he'd attempted, unsuccessfully, to talk himself out of wanting her. In some ways, he'd been lonelier than at any time since his escape. She had made herself clear in the car in Glasgow and, it turns out, she'd been absolutely right. If she had listened to him and they'd run away together, she wouldn't have been there for Michael and they might never have learned the truth about their son. That thought sent a chill down his spine, causing him to turn away from the window and find the child sitting up in bed beside his sleeping mother.

"Your Aunt Em was right; you seem to have inherited my lousy sleeping habits," he whispered as he approached.

"Da."

"Shhh," he responded, his heart soaring as he wondered if he'd ever get used to hearing that. "We don't want to wake Mommy. She needs her rest."

Jarod scooped him up and, pressing his forehead to the boy's, smiled and whispered, "How are you, kiddo? And why aren't you sleeping?"

Michael pointed to the window and Jarod nodded, carrying him over so he could see outside. Together they gazed into the moonlit night until the child pointed again.

"That's the moon," Jarod explained then watched as his son silently mouthed the word, his lips shaping into a perfect little "o."

"That's right," he encouraged then kissed the boy's forehead and went on, "It's a big world out there and there's so much to see. I have a lot to show you and, because I haven't been out here as long as most daddys, we'll see a lot of things together for the first time." Leaning into Michael's ear he added conspiratorily, "Mommy too but she doesn't know it yet."

"I've got an idea," he continued softly. "What do you say we bundle you up and go for a walk after breakfast? Winter is a beautiful time of year. Snow... that's that white stuff covering everything... see? Well, snow can be a lot of fun and extremely versatile too. You can build a snowman, you can make it into balls and throw it at people, but not too hard because you don't want anyone to get hurt. You can ski, snowboard or snowshoe on it. Oh, and you if you've got a good hill, you can go tobboganing. That's my favorite. Maybe when Mommy's better we'll all go. I've never gone with her but, judging by the way she operates a motor vehicle, I'm sure she'll like it too."

Michael yawned and rubbed his eyes then blinked at his father, who advised, "We can't do any of that until you get some sleep. But first..." he added, furrowing his brow as he gently squeezed the back of his son's diaper through his pajamas and noted that it felt warm and heavy. "We'd better see what's going on in here."

* * * *

"Jarod," she called out the moment he stepped back into the room.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No. I woke up on my own and Michael was gone. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, he's right here," he reassured. "He had a wet diaper and I didn't have a fresh one handy."

He leaned over the bed and gently set the boy down beside his mother then added, "We've been having a nice little chat."

"You should be sleeping, little man," she chided affectionately. "And so should you," she added somewhat less sweetly to his father.

Jarod was thankful for the cloudless night and the bright winter moon softly illuminating everything in the room. He watched as Parker turned halfway onto her right side to face her son then used her good arm to pull the blankets over him. His little hand went up immediately to wrap around her index finger and she inched closer to him, leaning in to press several kisses to his face.

Michael stared into her face for a time then turned his head to look up at his father. Reaching one arm up he declared,

"Da!"

Jarod met Parker's startled eyes, which must have mirrored his own. She lifted her head off the pillow and blinked inquisitively.

"Da!" the child repeated more forcefully.

"I think... he... he wants me to..." Jarod stammered. Parker nodded slowly then averted her eyes.

Good thing Dad let me have the big bed, he thought wryly, struggling to keep his pulse and respiration under control as he gingerly sank into a seated position on the mattress. With a deep, fortifying breath, he swung his legs up and lowered himself into a reclining position then turned on his side to prop his head up on his elbow.

"Is that better?" he asked softly then offered his index finger to his son, who took it immediately.

Michael turned his head from side to side, alternating his gaze from his mother to his father a few times before yawning and settling down. After a few minutes his eyes began to drift slowly closed and after a few minutes more his deep, rhythmic breathing signalled that he was asleep. Only then did his parents' eyes shift from him to one another.

"Thank you," Jarod whispered.

"I want him to get comfortable around you before..." she trailed off and, even in relative darkness, he could see the pain flash across her face.

When he disagreed with her, which was often, Jarod usually challenged her directly. Her typical response was to dig in her heels. Such was the nature of their volatile relationship and, he realized, was part of what made her so interesting and exciting. But this situation, he concluded, called for a different strategy. He would not argue with her about this or anything else, for a while anyway. Parker had managed to put aside her passionate drive to avenge Thomas's death to safely bring their child into the world. Then she had risked her life to set him free and bring him to Jarod. As far as he was concerned, the woman had earned herself one heck of a pass.

"I meant thank you for... everything," he clarified, paused a moment then continued, "Andi..."

Her eyes grew wide as he uttered aloud his childhood nickname for her, but her expression remained soft. Detecting no trace of anger he went on,

"You've done all the hard work - carried this weight alone - for months. I'm asking you to trust me to bear the brunt for now. Let me worry about the future while you recover and enjoy Michael."

Jarod watched in cautious optimism as Parker turned her head to stare up at the ceiling, obviously pondering his words.

* * * *

"Ready?" he asked, ducking his head and lowering his eyes. She nodded in response then quickly looked away.

A tense silence settled over the room. Having conducted his regular check of her vital signs, he felt it was time to change the bandage and inspect the wound. That would, of course, require that she partially disrobe and, now that Parker was clearly out of danger, Jarod was finding it increasingly difficult to remain clinically detached while tending to her. As she began to undo the buttons of the large slate-blue chambray shirt, his shirt, a wave of panic hit and he considered calling off the entire procedure and sending for Dr. Donohue. Holding the sheet up to her chest to keep things modest, she began struggling to slide the material off her left shoulder. Abandoning his previous train of thought, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and offered,

"Here, let me help you, Parker."

"No," she replied and he backed off immediately.

"I mean," she explained, "You don't have to call me that anymore. Actually, I'd prefer if you didn't. I will no longer go by that vile, cursed name. Someday, if things ever change and the opportunity presents itself, I'll have it legally changed to Mama's maiden name."

"Jamison," Jarod murmured.

Nodding she went on, "Right now it doesn't really matter because, obviously, I'll need an alias. More like several, actually."

"And in the meantime?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know my name. Use it."

"It will be my immense pleasure, Miranda," he said with a wide smile.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get on with it, monkeyboy."

"While we're on the topic, I prefer Jarod."

"And your point is?"

"Oh, nothing," he answered with an exaggerated sigh then proceeded to gently slip her left arm out of the shirt.

He carefully removed the large bandage that wrapped, front to back, around the top of her shoulder. Thoroughly examining the wound he reported, "Looks good. No sign of infection, which is what I expected with your temperature almost back to normal. We'll get you started on solid food today and, if that goes well, we'll be able to switch to oral meds."

"Well, that's a relief," she responded. "My ass is killing me."

"Such a way with words," he quipped as he dabbed at the wound with Betadine.

He then proceeded to prepare and apply a fresh bandage, taping it securely it place. Smoothing the last piece of surgical tape over her skin, Jarod became so caught up in his task that he forgot to be clinically detached. His fingertips slipped from the tape to the skin of her upper back then slid over the curve of her shoulder to sweep down her arm to the elbow.

"Very soft, Miranda," he muttered, his eyes tracking the path of his fingers. "Very, very soft."

"A move like that could cost a doctor his license."

Her comment broke his reverie and he pulled back. Searching Parker's eyes, he found vulnerability and apprehension, but no hostility, and was so relieved that he couldn't help but grin and remark,

"Then I guess it's a good thing that I'm not really a doctor."

He didn't fail to miss the grudging smile that appeared on her lips despite her best efforts to stifle it, but chose not to comment. Instead he helped her back into the shirt and offered,

"When Emily is finished giving Michael breakfast, I'm sure she wouldn't mind helping you in the bathroom if you'd like to freshen up."

Sitting back and rebuttoning the shirt, she wrinkled her nose and replied, "Thanks, I appreciate it. Any chance of getting some real clothes to wear?"

"So, you don't find my shirt and Dad's flannel robe to be the height of fashion?" he inquired amusedly.

"I think I'd feel a little less pathetic and helpless in something else."

"I cannot imagine how you could possibly feel either of those things," he commented with a frown then added, "But I'll see what I can do. I'd really like you to come downstairs for breakfast. And I'm sure the family would... oh, God."

"What is it?"

"Michael and I sort of spilled the beans yesterday afternoon but I needed some time for everything to sink in before I went into details. Last night at dinner, I promised them that I'd explain everything this morning."

Nodding Parker advised, "Then I guess you better get down there."

"Yeah," Jarod concurred with a nod. "I guess so."

* * * *

After bringing Michael upstairs to sit with his mother, Jarod assembled the family in the den, took a deep breath, and launched unceremoniously into the saga. Charles stared in stunned disbelief, Emily cried, and James appeared remarkably unfazed as Jarod recounted the story of how he and Parker had unknowingly become parents. About halfway through the narrative, he remembered the file still sitting in the trunk of the SUV. Lost in a fog of emotions the day before, he'd forgotten all about it. Perhaps he'd read it today, he thought, but not before taking Michael for that promised walk.

When he finished, the question on everyone's lips was the same: "What now?" Shaking his head, he confided that he wasn't sure and, with a frown, shared Parker's plans with them.

"But she can't do that!" James blurted.

"I know," Jarod agreed with a nod then added, "But I am not going to press her about it, at least not right now. I have a real talent for pushing her buttons and I simply refuse to upset her further, not after everything she's been through and done for him."

His father and sister nodded empathetically but James glared into his eyes and warned, "I sure hope you're not going to blow this," before getting up and stalking out of the room.

"I'm sorry, son," the Major offered, rising from his seat. Approaching Jarod and squeezing his shoulder he encouraged, "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Oh, he meant it, and he's right. I hope I don't blow this either because, if I do, my son will never forgive me." Abruptly changing the subject Jarod added, "Em, I was wondering if you'd help Parker get washed up. And if it's not too much trouble, see if you can find something that she can wear until we get her some things of her own."

"Of course," his sister replied, drying her cheeks as she stood up.

"When she's dressed I'll help her downstairs so she can have breakfast. Then," he tacked on resolutely, "I'm taking my son outside to play in the snow."

* * * *

James wandered into the den to find Parker alone in front of the fire. After breakfast, Jarod had settled her onto the couch, put her feet up, tucked a blanket around her, and hovered until she finally told him to get lost. That's when he bundled up Michael and took him outside. Soon after, the Major announced that he was going to see Dr. Donohue to thank him again for his help and report on Miss Parker's progress. Emily's whereabouts, however, were a mystery.

"Where's Em?" he asked, flopping onto an adjacent chair.

"Upstairs, I hope. I think I was finally able to convince her that I wouldn't keel over if she took a few minutes for herself. I really wish everyone would stop fussing over me."

"We're just concerned about you, that's all."

"Well, I appreciate that but you shouldn't be. I've been taking care of myself for a very long time."

I swear, I have to do EVERYTHING around here, he mused with a heavenward glance. Returning his gaze to her he stated, "I'm glad we're alone, Miss Parker, because there are a few things I need to say to you."

Raising her eyebrows she replied, "Are there? And it's Miranda, James, please."

"Okay, Miranda," he began with nod as he sat forward in his chair.

"Let's get a few things straight."

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Part 7
By Ginger


"Almost home!" Jarod chirped as the cabin came into view, grinning as the child on his shoulders chuckled delightedly and wrapped his arms more tightly around his father's forehead.

He'd had a ball walking his son through the woods and pointing out all sorts of things, including several species of tree and plant, and a few creatures too. He'd been especially delighted when a white rabbit crossed their path, relishing in the opportunity to inform Michael of his mother's affection for bunnies. They'd been outdoors for nearly two hours and he figured Andi would have his head if he kept the boy out any longer. Besides, it was almost lunchtime.

"We'll get into some warm, dry clothes, have something yummy to eat, and cuddle up to Mommy," Jarod explained as he bounced up the stairs, adding wryly, "Well, YOU'LL cuddle up to Mommy. Some of us aren't quite so lucky."

He pulled Michael off his shoulders and burst through the front door announcing, "We're back!"

Emily was coming down the stairs at the same time and remarked, "Jeez, Jarod, you might want to repeat that. I don't think they quite heard you in Toledo."

"We had a wonderful walk," he stated with a grin. "We even got to see a bunny, which we'll have to tell Mommy all about, won't we."

Turning to enter the den, he caught sight of James sitting on the couch beside Parker, who appeared to be wiping tears from her cheeks. His expression hardening, he turned to his sister and requested gravely, "Please take him upstairs, Em, and get him dried off."

Having herself noticed Parker's apparent emotional state, as well as her brother's abrupt change in demeanor, Emily wordlessly whisked the child away. Pulling his coat open angrily, Jarod charged into the room.

"James," he began in a low, controlled tone. "What, may I ask, are you doing?"

"I... we were just talking," the young man stammered, sensing Jarod's hostility.

"Just talking, eh? So why is she crying?"

"I'm fine," Parker interjected. "Really, I..."

"Get up," Jarod demanded, his voice quivering with rage.

"But..."

"I said get up!"

"Jarod, please," Parker pleaded, again trying to intervene.

"It's okay," James uttered softly then squeezed her hand and added, "I can handle this," before standing up.

"Go to your room!" Jarod ordered.

"Go to hell!" James responded.

Flashing with anger, Jarod took a step forward and warned, "Would you like to repeat that?"

"What for? You never listen!" the young man challenged.

"I NEVER LISTEN? After your little outburst this morning, I should have known better than to trust you alone with her! I specifically TOLD you that we were not going to push her or upset her in any way! So what did you do? The moment I had my back turned..."

"I had an open and honest conversation with her, which is something you've been too busy playing your stupid little games to do!"

"How DARE you!" Jarod shouted, shaking with anger. "You don't know anything about it, about HER! You've known her all of two days! I've known her a lifetime!"

"What in God's name is going on here?"

Everyone in the room turned to find the Major standing in the doorway and looking thoroughly ticked off.

"Well?" he added impatiently. "I'm waiting!"

Slipping her legs off the couch, Parker made a move to stand. When both James and Jarod lunged for her at the same time, she raised her right hand and barked, "Back off! And I mean BOTH OF YOU!" then added more gently, "Major, if you wouldn't mind..."

"Of course, Miss Parker," he replied, shooting both men a scornful look as he stepped around the sofa to assist her. Walking her out of the room he advised, "I'll expect an explanation the moment I get back down here."

As soon as Charles and Parker were out of earshot James spat, "I hope you're happy! I was 'this close' to getting her to agree to stay. Now we'll be lucky if she doesn't grab Michael and run like hell in the middle of the night!"

"I hope YOU'RE happy! I told you not to upset her and..." Jarod paused, blinked at him and demanded, "Wait a minute, what do you mean you were 'this close' to getting her to agree to stay?"

* * * *

"There you go," the Major uttered softly as he helped Parker into bed.

"Thank you," she replied awkwardly. Looking supremely uncomfortable, she hesitated a moment then added, "I realize this isn't the family holiday you had in mind, and it looks like that old Parker karma has struck again. I just want you to know that if there had been any other way to keep him safe, I wouldn't have..."

"Miss Parker," he interrupted with a sad smile as he sank into a chair at her bedside. "I hope you are not going to apologize for bringing Michael here."

"No. I'm... I'm not very good at apologies, but it's MY presence here that I'm talking about. It cannot be very comfortable for your family and everyone has been great. Well, until a few minutes ago."

Charles reflected a moment then leaned forward in his chair and said, "Let me ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Did you willingly participate in the creation and incarceration of my grandson?"

Her eyes widening Parker responded defensively, "Of course not! I didn't get this hole in my shoulder playing laser tag! I shot three people - one fatally, I think - to get him out of there!"

Nodding and smiling wryly he asked, "Then why are we having this conversation? If what my son told us is true then you were just as much a victim of this travesty as he. As for the 'Parker karma' or whatever you call it, I don't think that display downstairs had anything to do with it. I think that was simply a case of two men competing for the attention of a pretty lady."

His smile evolved into a soft chuckle and he observed, "Why, Miss Parker, you should see your face."

"Please, Major, call me Miranda," she whispered, lowering her eyes.

"Only if you call me Charles," he replied warmly. Reaching out to place his hand over hers, he continued, "And thank you for bringing him to us. That boy is definitely a keeper. If Catherine could see you now, I know she would be very proud."

Parker met his eyes briefly then looked away, prompting him to offer, "I'll leave you to rest a while before lunch."

Rising from his seat he tacked on humorously, "In the meantime, I have a couple thick heads to knock together."

"Thank you, Charles."

"My pleasure, Miranda."

* * * *

"Well, this is festive," Emily muttered as she sat alone at the kitchen table, her chin resting in the palm of one hand.

The new year was certainly off to a rousing start. Miss Parker had declined to come downstairs for lunch, which was probably just as well since the meal turned out to be a silent, rather tense, affair. Jarod was withdrawn, James was sullen, and her father appeared somewhere between mildly irritated at, and faintly amused by, the two of them.

Emily couldn't help but let a little resentment creep in. After all, this was the woman who had chased her and her mother away from Jarod in Boston, not to mention having worked for years for the organization that had torn apart their family. And here she was, provoking arguments, monopolizing the attention of every man in the house and, apparently, leaving Emily alone to reflect upon the incompleteness of the reunion.

"Now you're projecting," she sighed, dropping her arm flat onto the table and lowering her head to rest her face in the crook of her elbow.

Emily blamed herself as much as anyone for her Margaret's continued absence. She should have refused when, after the close call in Boston, her mother had insisted that she would be safer if they split up. Separating from her mother had been the hardest thing she'd ever done and she missed her terribly.

But everything was different now; there was a new addition to the family. Michael was Jarod's son and he was also Miss Parker's son, and there was no undoing that. Not that Emily wanted to; the child was a living doll and her brother was clearly besotted with him. He was obviously crazy about the boy's mother too, and she figured there was no changing that either. Whether she liked it or not, the fact was that Miss Parker had been a part of Jarod's life longer than any of them and, therefore, probably knew him a lot better than they did or ever would. He'd barely left her side since her arrival, and not out of a sense of duty but because it was where he truly wanted to be.

So, she'd suck it up and deal with it. Again. She'd deal with suddenly having a nephew just like she dealt with suddenly having a full- grown half-brother. She'd deal with the fact that Jarod was in love with a woman who had spent five years hunting him. She'd even deal with the fact that she now shared blood ties with that monster who nearly killed her in Philadelphia. She'd deal with it because she had a lifetime of practice and because, again, she had no choice.

* * * *

Shoving his hands more deeply into his pockets, James kicked angrily at the snow covered ground beneath his feet. Declaring that he needed some fresh air, he had left the house right after lunch and wandered through the woods ever since with no particular direction in mind. He had no intention of going back until he felt better, and could only hope that he wouldn't freeze to death first.

All he had wanted to do for his loved ones was something that Jarod did all the time for complete strangers: keep a family together. And it wasn't as though he'd been acting on some sort of whim. He felt... No, he KNEW that it was what he was supposed to do. On one of those nights when she had come to him in his dreams, and held him like he'd always imagined a mother would, he had asked, "Why are you here?"

"Because we're family," she had replied with a luminescent smile. He hadn't understsood at the time but really hadn't cared much either. Thinking back on it later, he'd been even more confused. He knew precisely where he'd come from and, if anyone could be considered his mother, it was Margaret not Catherine. In fact the more he'd thought about it the less sense it made to him until this week when it all became absolutely clear. He was Jarod's family, Jarod was Michael's family, and Michael was Miranda's family. Well, that made Miranda HIS family too and even if Jarod was too pig-headed, or just plain weird, to keep her from leaving then HE sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen.

So he had told her everything, every single detail from every single dream about her mother. She'd started to cry, and cried even more when he said that Michael was a lucky kid and that he couldn't imagine anything more wonderful than having her as a mother. To lighten the mood a bit, he'd grinned impishly and remarked, "Well, maybe I can think of ONE thing." Miranda had laughed through tears and it was a shockingly beautiful sight. He'd been in the midst of asking her to reconsider leaving her son, and requesting that she not consign him to a life of only dreaming of her touch, when Jarod burst in and ruined everything.

"And THAT'S the gene pool I was fished out of," he grumbled.

* * * *

He paced to the window, glanced outside anxiously then turned around to gaze wistfully up the staircase. He paced across the room to where his son sat on the rug, heavily engrossed in a construction project with Lincoln Logs, and smiled down at him before turning around to repeat the entire process for about the thirtieth time.

"Jarod," the Major sighed, his ability to concentrate on the model C5 cargo plane he was building severely hampered by his son's incessant pacing.

"Sorry, Dad," he offered. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"You never stopped."

Jarod finally did stop, rubbed his forehead and explained, "It's just that I've never raised my voice to him like that before. To her, yes, about a thousand times but she's... different."

"Clearly," Charles commented wryly, adding, "I wouldn't worry about James. He's out there walking, licking his wounds, and cursing the day you were born."

"Really?" Jarod asked, looking miserable.

"And I assure you that it's entirely normal. He's a teenager and he'll be back when he gets cold and hungry. You know, son, even in the best of families people have been known to occasionally raise their voices at one another. Just try to avoid making a habit of it."

"I guess you're right. I just don't know what got into me."

"Don't you?" his father asked knowingly.

Sighing Jarod replied, "Well, maybe I do, but I've probably managed to erase every trace of good will that existed between us. And after finally achieving status as a human being in her eyes. God, what an idiot I am."

"Funny you should say that," the Major remarked innocently as he resumed tinkering with the model. "Because she seems to blame herself for the whole thing."

"She does?"

"When I helped her upstairs, she essentially apologized for her presence here and suggested that the argument was the result of some sort of Parker curse."

"Oh she did, did she?" Jarod challenged then began pacing again and muttering, "She always does this, seizes upon any possible excuse to draw a line between us."

Shaking his head, the Major watched in disbelief until he'd finally had enough and blurted, "For crying out loud, son! Will you just go up there and talk to her already?"

"O... okay," Jarod responded looking slightly taken aback. With a smirk he added, "I guess you weren't kidding about family members raising their voices at one another."

"No," his father sighed. "I was not. But I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from compelling me to do it often."

* * * *

"Parker?" Jarod called into the semi-dark room as he spotted her lithe form beneath the covers. She didn't stir but he knew she wasn't sleeping.

"Miranda?" he called again and then, finally, "Andi?"

"What do you want?" she inquired flatly.

"I want to... to apologize for..."

"Behaving like a brute, a bully, a lunatic?"

"Well, yes... for a start," he replied with a smile as he approached the bed.

"You should be apologizing to James," she stated.

"I know, and I will, but right now I need to talk to you."

Bypassing the chair, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. Parker blinked at him in surprise and immediately propelled herself into a half-seated position. Without ceremony he reached for her right hand, pulled it to his mouth, turned it over, and pressed his lips to her palm. She flinched but did not pull away. Gazing into her eyes, he saw that they were wide and vulnerable. He lifted his lips from her hand but did not let it go as he spoke so softly that his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Emotions have been running fairly high around here the past couple of days, and I'm sorry I overreacted this morning. But on the way up here, I realized that's not what I was coming to say to you. I'm tired of playing stupid little games, so I'm going to stop and ask you to stay. Please stay, Andi. Please stay and help me raise our son."

# # # #

See part 1 for disclaimer.

WARNING: You may want to have an insulin injection ready, just in case.

Brand New Year, Part 9


Sitting on his mother's lap, Michael was preoccupied with the sling she now wore on her left arm. He pointed to it then looked up at her inquisitively.

"It's so Mommy can move around more easily without having to remember to be careful," Parker explained, adding, "Being careful is not Mommy's strong suit."

She paused, sighed and smiled lovingly at him then continued, "I'm sorry, kiddo, but I think it only fair to inform you that the card you've drawn in the mommy department is... well... let's just say there are a lot of things that are not my strong suit: patience, civility, normal brain function before I've had my second cup of coffee. The list is as long as my arm but, I promise you, I'll do my best. If I'm screwing up really badly, I'm depending on you to let me know. Actually, if you're anything like me then speaking your mind shouldn't be a problem, and if you're anything like your father then telling me off shouldn't be either."

Pulling her son closer, she kissed his forehead and began rocking him gently as she went on, "You are precious to me, little man. You have no idea how precious you are but you will. I may never be 'Mother of the Year' but one thing I won't do is lie to you. There is very little in this world more important than the truth. I was lied to about where I came from. I was lied to about a lot of things and it caused me to make a lot of bad decisions along the way. I got lost and it took me a long time to find my way back... and I'm not even sure I'm there yet. I won't let that happen to you, baby." Parker closed her eyes and took a deep breath then proceeded,

"You may not have come into the world in the usual way, but never for a minute think that you were not wanted or loved from the moment you were... from the beginning. Mommy may not have carried you inside her, but she fell in love with you the moment she set eyes on you. And... the... the woman who did carry you inside her loved you too. Of this I am certain; I saw it in her eyes. She made the ultimate sacrifice for you and didn't care what happened to herself as long as you were okay. She was very mixed up, lost like Mommy, and did a lot of terrible things. She once took something from Mommy... something precious... and Mommy hated her for it. But then she kept you warm and safe until, together, we were able to bring you into the world. And I... I think you were her redemption. Just like I think you're mine. You saved us, baby. You did that.

"And Daddy? Well, knowing him as I do - and, believe me, I do - I just know that he's beside himself with joy over you. Something happened when he was a little boy, something that never should have happened to him or anyone, and because of it he's spent most of his life on his own. He's just recently found your grandfather and Emily and... James... well, uh, that's a long story for another time. Anyway, family means the world to him and I know he will move heaven and earth for you. He's a genius, you know, and a hero; he's helped a lot of people over the years. You should pay close attention to him because, just between you and me, he does have some good qualities.

"Of course, he has a lot of incredibly annoying qualities too, not the least of which are SPYING AND EAVESDROPPING ON MOMMY!"

Michael sat up in his mother's lap when he heard his father enter the room and turned to watch him approach. "Da," he sighed before settling back into her embrace, looking sleepy and comfortable.

"Indeed," Parker concurred, narrowing her eyes at Jarod as he sheepishly took the chair next to theirs. The look in his eyes left no doubt in her mind as to how much he'd heard. He appeared on the verge of bursting into tears or flinging his arms around her or both.

Having endured enough drama for one lifetime, let alone one day, she advised, "Now that we are no longer adversaries, I think it's time to discuss boundaries."

"I know," he grumbled. "Force of habit, I guess. I will apologize for listening in, but I am not sorry I heard that."

Glancing down to find her son's eyelids growing heavy, she lowered her voice and asked, "Can we please not go there right now? I just need to... to be..."

Nodding he interjected softly, "It's okay, Andi. I just want to be here with you and Michael if... if you don't mind."

"No," she whispered as she watched the child's eyes drift closed. "We don't mind."

* * * *

After sitting in silence for several minutes Parker gestured toward the bed and mouthed, "We should probably put him down."

Jarod nodded and rose to gently lift the sleeping child from her arms. She stood up and followed behind him and, to his surprise and delight, placed her right hand softly on his back when he leaned forward to set Michael down on the bed. He lovingly tucked the covers around his son then stood up and stared at him for a time before turning to her to whisper,

"I... It's... just... so..."

"I know," she whispered back then lowered her eyes to the floor.

He took a step toward her and pressed his forehead to hers then took her by the hand and led her out of the room. She stopped in the doorway to look back at their son then switched off the overhead light and pulled the door about halfway closed behind her before turning her attention to Jarod.

"Hopefully, he'll start sleeping better. He seems more comfortable and relaxed now that you're up and around," he observed.

Nodding she said, "He takes a while to wind down. During our visits at the Centre, I noticed that he'd go to bed easier for the night, or even for a nap, if we had some quiet time first. So I sort of developed this routine with him."

"Routine is good," he encouraged. "All the books say so."

"You know, it's weird. I haven't been around kids much and I don't have the faintest idea what I'm doing here but... he just... fits in my arms so well and I... I don't know, I guess I'm surprised I haven't inadvertently set him on fire or drowned him or anything."

Shaking his head, Jarod leaned in and whispered into her ear, "And I'm sure that you're the first mother in human history to feel that way."

"But I'm terrified!" she blurted then glanced anxiously into the room to see if she had awaken Michael before lowering her voice and continuing, "And I'm not talking about the Centre, but about inadvertently setting him on fire or drowning him or any of the million other things I could possibly do wrong."

"You think I'm not?" he responded, adding, "But from what I've seen out here, nobody is one hundred percent perfect out of the gate. Training for parenthood is pretty much on the job."

"Mama was," she remarked wistfully. "She did everything right. Always."

"If she were here, I doubt she'd agree with that statement."

"God, I wish she was," Parker said on a sigh, her eyes moistening.

"So do I," he offered with a compassionate smile then took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a tender kiss before continuing, "She would be very proud of her little girl... and her grandson. Now come on," he coaxed as he began pulling her back into the bedroom. "It's late and you need to rest."

Stopping and tugging back on his arm she inquired, "Will you be staying?"

Lowering his eyes to the floor Jarod replied, "Yes, I would like to very much."

"Go on then," she advised with a nod then followed him into the room and closed the door behind behind her.

# # # #

See part 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: I realize that the interval between posts has grown considerably but real life has been particularly demanding lately. I'd tell you all about it but you probably wouldn't believe me. Such is my love for you guys that I actually wrote most of this part on the train back from D.C. today when, after the week I've had, any sensible person would have been napping in earnest.


Brand New Year, Part 10


Parker awoke to the sound of whispering and opened her eyes to find Jarod lying on his back beside her with Michael seated on his stomach, the child's chubby little legs stretched out onto his father's chest. She smiled, warmth welling up in her and nearly compelling her to slide over and give them each a "Good Morning" kiss. Fortunately, she was able to suppress the urge. The last thing she needed to do was start planting her lips on Jarod. She would prefer to deal with one emotional upheaval at a time, thank you.

"Morning," he offered amiably then tickled his son's ribs and giggled right along with him.

The urge came back but she again suppressed it. Jarod wore paternal well, damn him. She really needed a cup of coffee.

"I need a cup of coffee," she groaned, hoping it would prompt him to stop being so appealing and get out of bed to fetch her one.

"He's a morning person, like me!" he chirped.

"You're a morning, afternoon and evening person; pretty much a 24- hour pain-in-the-ass," she observed.

Ignoring her barb he said, "I was just asking Michael - who, incidentally, Andi, will pick up his vocabulary from us - how you knew I was eavesdropping when I know I didn't make a sound."

"I can always sense when you're nearby," she replied matter-of- factly, choosing in turn to ignore his remark. "I call it my J-DAR," she added on a yawn.

"A feature of your 'Inner Sense' then," he stated while playing a game of peek-a-boo through his hands.

"Well, maybe, but it started long before the voices and visions did. Had it forever, actually. How do you think I used to find you when we were kids, by going around and asking?"

Turning his head to meet her eyes he answered, "Well, no, I guess not, but it never occurred to me because..."

"I never managed to capture you and bring you back. Amazing isn't it," she commented dryly.

Grinning he replied, "Yes, it is," then deftly swept Michael into one arm, sat up and leaned over.

It was all so fast that she didn't know what hit her, well, except that she had the distinct sensation of warm lips on hers, Jarod's lips. She'd barely had time to process that piece of information when he broke away, set their son down beside her and hopped off the bed announcing, "I'll be back in a minute with coffee. In the meantime, be a good boy and keep Mommy company."

Then he was gone and Parker looked over to find her son blinking expectantly at her. Reaching out to stroke his belly she remarked with a smirk, "I think we need to have another talk with Daddy about boundaries."

* * * *

"Let me help you with that," Parker offered as Emily began clearing the table from lunch.

"No thank you, Miss Parker. You should take it easy," she replied.

"I've had my fat fill of taking it easy and it's Miranda. Parker is not my name anymore," she stated as she stood up from the table and picked up a plate.

"Oh, so that's all it takes," Emily muttered under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear as she turned toward the sink.

Jarod frowned and appeared poised to speak but Parker shook her head at him, advising, "It's a sunny day. Why don't you, your father and James take Michael outside to build a snowman or something."

"Good idea," the Major piped in, shooting James a knowing look as he stood up from the table.

"But I..." Jarod began to protest but was cut off by the look Parker shot him and settled for asking, "Are you sure?"

"If I wasn't sure I wouldn't have suggested it," she replied coolly, effectively ending the conversation.

With that Charles and James muttered their goodbyes and left. Jarod wiped Michael's hands and face then extracted him from the high chair and held him out to his mother for a kiss.

"Be good," she advised sternly. "You too, little man," she added with a wink to her son.

"I make no promises," Jarod said through a forced smile then stole a nervous glance at his sister before exiting the room.

What followed were several long minutes of silence as Parker cleared the table and Emily filled the sink with sudsy water. Her task complete, Parker took a seat at the table and waited. More silence followed until it was broken by Emily offering,

"Thank you for your help. I can take it from here so you are free to do what you want."

"What I want is for you to take a seat and say to my face what I know you're thinking."

"Listen," Emily began as she turned to face Parker. "Please don't pay any attention to me. I guess I must be tired or something. Anyway, I apologize for the remark. It isn't my place to..."

"Bullshit," Parker interjected matter-of-factly. "Of course it's your place. You're Jarod's flesh and blood and you're finally all together... almost. Now you're saddled with a former agent of the organization who tore apart your family in the first place and you resent it." She paused a moment for effect then added with a wry smile, "Am I getting warm here?"

Emily sighed and slumped her shoulders then asked, "Am I beyond evil?"

"Well... since that's exactly how I'd feel in your position then my knee jerk response would be 'yes.' On the other hand, it's probably a very reasonable response to an extremely awkward situation. I will tell you one thing: you've been a hell of a lot nicer than I would be."

Ambling over to the table, Emily explained, "Oh, I don't know about that. It's not as though I really have a choice in the matter. Jarod wouldn't stand for it." Sinking into a chair opposite Parker she added, "He's extremely protective of you, and I have a feeling that the little display we saw yesterday was just the tip of the iceberg."

"Typical of him to expect everyone to become one big happy family just because HE thinks we should. I mean, until this week, the only time I'd ever set eyes on you I was brandishing a weapon and killing a chance for your family to be together."

"You didn't do that alone."

"No, I didn't, but I was there."

"Well," Emily stated with a shrug. "There is that but... for me... it's more about... my own experience with..."

"I assume you are referring to my psychopathic twin brother with whom you now find yourself sharing a nephew," Parker stated with an expression of faint disgust.

"He pushed me out of a window and I almost... didn't..."

"So I heard."

"He murdered my brother, and took away my chance of ever getting to know him."

"I know. I was there."

"And now we're all related. It's all just so... weird," Emily commented on a sigh.

"No kidding," Parker concurred with a nod. "And it's a monumental relief that somebody else notices. Jarod's cheeriness and enthusiasm are enough to make a person with a firm grasp on reality feel as though she's fallen through the rabbit hole."

"He can't help it," Emily observed with a shrug. "Having you here - you and Michael - means the world to him."

"I know it was a bit of a shock at first, to find out that he's a father, but he's really embraced the role the way I knew he would."

"It's not all about him, you know. To me it seems... it's... Shit, how can I explain this?" Emily took a fortifying breath and continued, "When Zoe was with us for a while... Oh, do you know who that is?"

"Vaguely," Parker replied evenly.

"Whenever we'd rendezvous with Jarod they would, you know, be together, and I could sense him trying incredibly hard to be the perfect boyfriend. That is until after his adventure in Scotland when he suddently stopped trying. By the way, I understand that you came face-to-face with my mother. Was she... alright?"

"Well," Parker began tentatively then shrugged and confided, "As I'm sure Jarod told you, she'd had better days. But I can tell you that the last I saw her she was safe, or at least on her way to safety.

Emily pondered a moment then with a wave of her hand went on, "Anyway, even though I'd made that observation about Jarod and Zoe over a year ago, it was only this week that it hit me and it broke my heart: he does the same thing with us. He tries. He tries as hard as he possibly can."

"What could be wrong with that? Your family was split up and, now that it's coming together again, he just wants it to be perfect. Of course, you know that it can't be perfect and I know that it can't be perfect but he doesn't know that. Deep down he's still an innocent who believes in happily ever after."

"You speak with a great deal of authority on the subject," Emily observed. Parker shrugged.

"He doesn't try with you," Emily stated pointedly, adding, "He doesn't have to."

Somewhat taken aback by that statement Parker stammered, "I... he... we've known one another for a very long time."

"Precisely, and we're still in many ways strangers. And now he has a new priority, a family of his own which, obviously, must come first. We have to drop down to second and we haven't even..."

"Found your mother yet," Parker muttered with a nod then averted her eyes. Silence reigned for a time until Emily remarked,

"But I can't deny it; he's happier than I've ever seen him, and I'd be willing to bet that he's happier than he's ever been. He is my brother and I love him so don't worry, Mi... Miranda; I'll deal. Past deeds aside, you did bring Michael to us. And, of course, you make my brother happy."

"Not intentionally!" Parker insisted.

Chuckling and shaking her head, Emily commented, "And yet..."

* * * *

Parker was pleasantly surprised when, on her fourth morning there, Jarod announced that she could take a proper bath. There were conditions, of course: she was to leave the bathroom door unlocked, could soak for no longer than five minutes, and would have to let Emily shampoo her hair in order to keep her bandage, and the wound beneath it, dry. While finding her helplessness humiliating and generally intolerable, she grudgingly agreed to his terms because she was desperate for a degree of cleanliness that no amount of sponge bathing could achieve.

"I think it's safe to say that we've reached a new level of weird," she joked to Emily then offered sincerely, "For about the millionth time this week, thank you," before heading back to the bedroom.

She entered to find a smiling Jarod sitting on the end of the bed with Michael in his lap. Beside them was a brightly wrapped package. Shit, she thought; she knew she'd been forgetting something.

"Happy Birthday!" Jarod exclaimed.

"Oh brother," she muttered then lumbered toward the bed.

"Here," he advised, picking up the box. "Have a seat."

"Do I have to?" she grumbled.

"Yes," he replied with a smirk that evolved into a full blown grin as she flopped down beside him with an exaggerated sigh.

"Let's see," he continued, this time addressing his son. "What do we have for Mommy?"

Jarod placed the package gently onto her lap. Their son looked on with wide eyes as she tore the paper off the box, clapping his hands and chuckling when she was finished. Smiling unconsciously she removed the lid.

"You always smile when he laughs," Jarod observed warmly.

"It's a beautiful sound," Parker replied as she pulled back the tissue paper to reveal her gift. Furrowing her brow she asked, "An atlas?"

"Turn to page A24," he instructed.

So she did, staring at the page for a while before looking up and turning to meet his eyes.

"Well?" he inquired hopefully. "What do you think?"

"What do I think? Your father can have this flannel robe back, for a start," she replied as a wide smile unfurled across her lips.

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: This is short, I know, but it's kind of sweet! By the way, thanks for all the fabulous feedback. I'll say it again, I love you guys!


Brand New Year, Part 11
By Ginger


"Ready to go, kiddo!" Jarod intoned as he lifted his son into his arms.

"How can you possibly be this energetic at such an ungodly hour?" Parker grumbled as she stepped behind him to recheck the items in the zipper pockets of the backpack baby carrier.

Turning to hand Michael to her, he replied with a wag of his eyebrows, "I'm energetic at any hour."

Smirking but otherwise ignoring his remark she advised, "You've got plenty of water for a four-hour hike. I've also packed banana chips and some dried mango and papaya and, of course, Cheerios, for my little man. That should tide you both over until lunch."

"Extra diapers?"

"Of course. And make sure he wears his hat and sunglasses."

"Yes, mommy, and we'll be back before it gets too hot. Are you sure you don't want to come along? The squirrel monkeys are not to be missed."

"Mo-no!" Michael exclaimed excitedly.

"That's right, kiddo, we'll see monkeys," his father assured then noted to his mother, "His Spanish vocabularly is really expanding."

She nodded then said, "After chasing one 'mono' around for years, I've had my fat fill. Besides, I'm going back to bed."

"Tired, are you?" Jarod inquired with a cheeky grin.

Narrowing her eyes she responded, "It's this hot, humid climate; it makes me lazy. Now turn around so I can put Michael into his carrier and the two of you can get out of here."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied in a low, silky tone then shot her a searing look before turning around.

Unable to contain her smile any longer, Parker grinned then planted several kisses to her son's face before placing him in the carrier and patting Jarod's shoulder to signal that they were good to go. Following them outside, she stroked her son's head and gave him one more kiss then uttered softly, "Be a good boy."

"You too," she added to his father.

She was about to step back in the house when Jarod grabbed her hand and inquired, "Hey, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Can't think of anything," she replied with a grin as he pulled her into his arms.

"Béseme," he whispered as his lips descended on hers for a sweet, lingering kiss.

"Be-sa," Michael observed.

"Mmmm..." Jarod moaned then pulled back slightly to murmur, "Indeed," before leaning in again.

Placing her hand over his mouth Parker glared playfully at him and ordered, "Go!"

"Okay," he sighed then added with a smirk, "But I'm looking forward to a nice, long siesta after lunch. With all the fresh air and sensory stimulation he'll get this morning, Michael should sleep like... well, like a baby. Then his father can enjoy a little sensory stimulation of his own." Jarod wagged his eyebrows, his smirk evolving into a full-blown grin.

"Haven't you had enough?" she teased.

"Never," he purred then slid one hand down her back to her derrière and gave it a playful smack. Chuckling at the warning look she gave him he let go of her and offered a cheerful, "¡Hasta pronto, Mama!"

With that father and son were on their way. Folding her arms at her chest, Parker shook her head and smiled as she watched them proceed down the dirt road. Something dawned on her and she called out,

"Jarod!"

He turned and called back, "What?"

"I got up at the crack of dawn to pack you more than enough healthy snacks! If I get so much as a whiff of dulce de leche on either one of you, you're a dead man!"

"Got it!" he replied with an impish grin before turning around to continue on his way.

Parker rolled her eyes then turned to step back into the house. Pausing a moment she muttered, "Look at me; I'm June Fucking Cleaver," then ambled indoors shaking her head.

True to her word, she headed straight for the bedroom where she peeled off her robe and slipped, naked, between the sheets. Grabbing the pillow next to hers, she buried her face in it, inhaled deeply, and hummed with contentment. Shoving her own pillow aside, she rested her head on it, closed her eyes and smiled serenely as she pictured Jarod and Michael out exploring together.

Jarod loved taking their son to work with him, seizing every opportunity to bring Michael along on his hikes into the forest to observe the habits and behavior of the squirrel monkey, and to see various other forms of animal life including iguanas and several varieties of sloth. They'd been out together on numerous occasions in the two months since their arrival in Quepos, a city of about 14,000 in the province of Puntarenas on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica.

Upon their arrival in town, Jarod had made quick work of passing himself off as a biologist, talking himself onto a team conducting a privately funded study of the rare squirrel monkey living in the forests of Manuel Antonio National Park, just a few miles south of town. They moved into a lovely house at the end of a dirt road off the main road between Quepos and the Park, which was perfect because Jarod could easily hike to work while it was only a few minutes from town by car so Parker didn't feel marooned.

The salient feature of the house was the large, screened-in back porch. Roomy enough to easily accommodate a couch and two chairs, it was really more of a room than a porch and, like the other rooms in the house, featured a beautiful and very effective ceiling fan made of dark wood with tightly braided wicker blades. The family spent most of their time there: eating meals, reading, or just gazing out at the colorful plants, flowers, birds and other wildlife comprising their little slice of paradise. For Michael, it was just one big play pen and also the place where he took his afternoon nap. He loved to be in the open air, a preference his father supported with near fanatical enthusiasm.

Not that Parker could blame him. She understood that Jarod wanted to give his son the things he never had as a boy: the feel of the sun on his face, the sound of the wind rustling in the trees and bird calls, the smell of the ocean. On nights when stifling heat and humidity didn't drive them indoors to the air conditioning, the whole family would often sleep out there.

She sighed, feeling relaxed and sleepy. As soon as her little man's erratic sleep patterns started to moderate, her not-so-little man replaced him as a regular cause of sleep deprivation. He would exhaust her with an admirable combination skill and enthusiasm, as he'd done last night... twice... and once more this morning before hopping out of bed to start the day.

"Hyperactive little monkey," she muttered with a sly smile before snuggling deeper into bed and drifting off.

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: I promised you wouldn't have to wait a week and, for the record, have delivered this SIX days later. Sorry; it would have been sooner but I was really rather ill this week (kind of like you'll be after you read this...;- ), which really put a dent in my writing time. Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day!


Brand New Year, Part 12
By Ginger


"Tienes sueño, mi pequeño," Jarod observed softly as he felt the warm breath of his yawning son on the back of his neck. "We need to get you home for lunch and a nap."

The countryside always seemed more breathtaking on the hike home. Home. What a beautiful word. For the first time he felt like he had one. Not in the fixed position, permanent address sense; they were on the run, after all, and couldn't count on staying in one place for too long. It was more a feeling of belonging, like he was where he was meant to be, and it didn't matter where that was as long as Miranda and Michael were there too.

They had all been through so much; the last ten weeks had been the most intense of Jarod's life but also, without question, the happiest. Sure, there was the anxiety over her surprise arrival, the concern over her injury, and the shock and horror of finding out what had been done to them. But all of that was soon eclipsed by the joy of getting to know and falling in love with his son. And there was her. And she was spectacular.

He smiled, picking up his pace.

* * * *

He had wanted her for a long time to be sure, at least since Carthis but, if he were truly honest with himself, more like forever. Still, it was several long, tortuous weeks before he finally mustered the courage to make a real move. There were the occasional, casual overtures - the friendly hug, peck, or pat on the back - but they were more of an experiment than anything else, designed to test the hypothesis that taking such liberties might not necessarily result in his swift and violent demise. And early on there were several practical obstacles to having anything more: she was recovering from a bullet wound, his family was constantly under foot, and Michael was not sleeping well.

Things went smoothly for the remainder of their stay with Jarod's family; in fact, better than anyone might have reasonably expected. James was perpetually at Miranda's heels like a devoted puppy, which she bore with uncharacteristic patience and serenity. The Major was warmly attentive and even Emily seemed to warm up to her. In fact, the two women appeared to form a sort of cautious friendship after their one-on-one conversation in the kitchen, the details of which neither deigned to share with Jarod no matter how much he begged, whined or grumbled.

Nevertheless, he knew that Miranda continued to feel like an interloper; like she was again responsible for keeping his family apart. As the day of their departure approached, he could sense her increasing unease until she was wound so tightly on the morning they were set to leave that he felt compelled to sit her down and state,

"It isn't as though I was planning to stay. In fact, if I were alone, I probably would have left weeks ago."

"To get back to ALL THAT?" she asked skeptically.

Looking knowingly into her eyes he replied, "To get back in touch with the other people in my life. You should know by now that I could never bring myself to stay away for too long."

"They're your family, Jarod."

"So are you and Michael, and everyone will be safer this way. Besides, we'll all be together again soon. Oh and, for the record, I haven't given up on my mother. I am more determined than ever because I want her to meet her grandson."

And so it was on a Monday in mid-January when they said their goodbyes to the Major, Emily, and James, climbed into a newly-acquired Honda CRV, and headed for Miami where Jarod had a private plane lined up for the final leg of their journey. The road trip was a tense one. They'd packed plenty of food and did not stop for more than a couple minutes to fill the gas tank, use the facilities, or get a cup of hot coffee. The mid- Atlantic leg was particularly nerve-wracking and they did not stop once. The silence was deafening; it seemed as though neither of them drew a single breath until they'd safely cleared the Delmarva Penninsula.

Jarod drove straight through - all 25 hours - then checked them into a hotel by the airport so that he could get some rest before flying. After an early dinner and a long, hot shower, he stepped out of the bathroom to find that Miranda had undressed and slipped into one of his shirts. Propped up against the headboard of the bed with Michael beside her, she was speaking softly to him and rubbing his belly in an attempt to settle him after the long, ardous journey. It was then that it hit him: one obstacle, namely his family, was gone. It was just the three of them now, a concept that both excited and frightened him.

With regard to their son they were truly becoming partners, working together to create an environment of warmth and security for him. They fell into a comaradarie that was perhaps not so surprising considering how quickly, if temporarily, they had done on previous occasions. Their chequered history aside they were, it turned out, compatible, settling easily into domestic life after their arrival in Costa Rica. Not that Miranda had by any means become a pushover. When Jarod announced that he had joined the study team, she raised an eyebrow and remarked,

"Oh, so you'll be doing genealogical research."

Jarod had always enjoyed a round of verbal sparring with his huntress. He found her sharp wit exhilarating and now that it was employed in fun rather than hostility, it tended to leave him with a belly full of butterflies. As did her predilection for prancing around in the pale blue bikini she purchased shortly after their arrival in Quepos.

He supposed it was sensible enough attire while they were staying in town: one of the benefits of the short-term rental he had pre-booked for them was a lavish courtyard featuring a small garden, shaded tile deck and swimming pool. The family spent much of their two week stay out there, Jarod and Michael playing in the water or garden while Miranda lounged on the deck reading or just soaking up the tropical climate as she recuperated. A couple days before they left, he agreed that she could begin swimming as part of her rehabilitation and was rewarded (or punished depending on how one looked at it) by the sight of her skimpy swimwear clinging, semi-transparent, to her wet body.

The bikini - or, rather, bikinis for she proceeded to acquire several more in a stunning array of colors - remained ubiquitous even after they moved out of town. And not just for excursions to the beach; they became a feature of her regular household attire, along with linen shorts and open button-down shirts invariably swiped from his closet. She often pinned her hair up loosely and, since the heat and humidity rendered it obsolete, wore no makeup at home. Also, she never wore shoes in the house, her toes always flawlessly painted a pretty shade of pale coral. In short, Miranda was the most appealing creature he had ever feasted his eyes on.

As if that weren’t enough, her scent permeated his environment. He’d grab a shirt to put on only to be assaulted by her essence; if he made the mistake of wearing one of those shirts to work, his body heat would make the scent stronger and mingle with his own scent to drive him to distraction. He continued to sleep chastely (if ever more uncomfortably) beside her in a bed that smelled of her. And while Michael smelled of different things at different times - some more pleasant than others - Jarod could always detect his mother's scent on him.

Finally, there was the sheer unpredictability to cope with. He just never knew when Miranda would do something to take his breath away: unconsciously twirling a lock of her hair while engrossed in a book; lovingly stroking her son's cheek as he slept in her arms; talking to her “little man” as though he were just that, a little man, while undertaking routine parental chores like changing his diaper, bathing him, or brushing his hair. Then there were the truly priceless moments like the day Jarod returned earlier than usual from a hike into the Park to find music blaring, a pleasingly rythmic fusion of the various styles - salsa, calypso, reggae, rumba - reflecting Costa Rica's diverse cultural influences. More pleasing yet was the sight of Miranda dancing Michael around the house, her body swaying and shimmying in the most delightful way. Almost as fetching was the poisonous look she shot Jarod when she turned to find him standing in the doorway, arms folded and grinning ear to ear.

He knew full well what was happening. Jarod was falling a little more in love with Miranda every day and, since he hadn’t exactly started from a position of indifference, he was in deep. He wanted nothing less than to be her partner for life and even - someday, if fortune were to afford him the opportunity and privilege - her husband.

On the one hand, it was all very simple. They already shared a history, a child and even a bed. Besides, it was no exaggeration to say that they shared a strong physical attraction, even back in the days when their relationship was primarily hostile. On the other hand, it was all extremely complicated. They were fugitives and, as such, could not lead conventional lives. Their own situation was tenuous at best, but there were other people to worry about as well: his family, people they cared about who remained back at the Centre, the troubled younger brother they shared. But by far the biggest complication, as well as his primary hesitation, was the fact that they hadn't chosen this.

Not that he resented or regretted his incredible reversal of fortune for an instant, except, obviously, for how it had come to pass. But, truth be told, after the initial shock had worn off he didn't spend much time dwelling on it. The Centre had yet again done the unspeakable. Only this time they had inadvertently given Jarod the future he'd always dreamed of but never dared hope for. No, he hadn't chosen this, but it was the life he would have chosen if he could.

But could the same be said of her? That Miranda loved Michael the way a mother should was beyond doubt; it was in her eyes and it was a sight to behold. But did she consider life with her son's father something to be embraced or merely endured? She had chosen another life and it was stolen from her, leaving Jarod to wonder if she would always secretly grieve for what might have been. Late at night while watching her sleep, he would sometimes torture himself by imagining that she were dreaming of what Michael might have looked like if another man - a man with fairer hair and eyes - had been his father. But then morning would come, her beautiful blue eyes would blink open and the dark thoughts would recede into the deep recesses of his mind.

Well, until the morning that Jarod awoke to a realization that struck terror in his heart: it was February 14, Valentine's Day. She wasn't lying beside him; for the first time Miranda had gotten up before he had. He found her in the kitchen with Michael, who was already dressed to accompany Jarod on his hike.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked as she sliced up fruit for breakfast. "Looks like a nice day, not too hot," she added conversationally.

"Of course not," he replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I just need to add a few things to the pack..."

"Done," she interjected firmly.

"Okay," he muttered, wondering if he had done something to upset her.

Jarod kept right on wondering all the way to the Park, while glancing nervously at his watch and worrying over the arrival of the gardenias he'd ordered special from a florist in town. He kept flashing back to his previous Valentine's Day overture, years earlier, and his heart sank. What if the flowers were as big a disaster as the candy heart?

Oh well, he thought with a shrug, at least she won't eat them. Will she?

Stopping for their mid-morning snack, Jarod sat propped against a tree trunk with Michael on his lap. Opening the zipper to the largest compartment of the pack, his eyes widened with surprise. Only then did it register that the load had been bulkier than usual.

"What have we here?" he asked, fishing out the wrapped package.

Michael grinned and clapped his hands. He loved presents, especially the unwrapping part. They unwrapped it together, extra careful to return every shred of paper to the pack. When they were done, Michael pointed at the gift and exclaimed, "Mo-no!"

Smiling warmly Jarod explained, "Not just any monkey, but a special one named 'Jorge el Curioso.'"

Cracking open the book, he read aloud the inscription in Miranda's hand: "I saw this in town and immediately thought of two monkeys who might enjoy it together. Happy Valentine's Day."

His heart swelling, Jarod proceeded to read his son the story of "el mono pequeño y el hombre con el sombrero amarillo" amidst the chatter of the genuine article frolicking in the trees nearby. The prospects for Valentine's Day were indeed improving.

And improve they did when, upon their return home, Miranda greeted them each with a peck on the cheek and a warm, sincere "thank you." Jarod was delighted to find the large crystal bowl brimming with white, supple flowers prominently displayed on a small table on the porch, right beside the chair she always sat in to read. The same chair she had just risen from when, a couple hours later, Jarod decided to take the bull by the horns.

Michael had gone down for his nap and she had gotten up to check on him. She was moving past Jarod on the way back to her chair when he took hold of her hand, firmly but tenderly, and looked longingly into her eyes. She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head but did not pull away. He tugged on her arm. She raised her eyebrows further, her eyes growing wide but, again, did not resist. Nor did she resist as he pulled her onto his lap. Nor did she resist as he stroked her cheek. Nor did she resist as he slipped his hand into her hair and pulled her face to his to engage her in a kiss that he only hoped would convey even a fraction of the what he felt for her.

When he sensed her responding, becoming a willing participant in the kiss as her arms slipped around his neck, Jarod was absolutely certain that he'd died and gone to heaven. His hands started to roam, slipping under the shirt she wore - his, of course - to explore the exquisitely soft skin exposed by yet another skimpy bikini top, red this time ostensibly in honor of the holiday. His hand gliding gently up her spine, he met the tie to her bikini top and toyed with it for a few moments before making up his mind. That's when he felt something hit him softly on the back of the head with a familiar squeak.

Their lips still fused, he and Miranda each opened one eye and glanced down to find the plush moose Emily had given Michael prior to their departure, which had become his constant sleeping companion ever since. Pulling back they both turned to find Michael sitting up on the air mattress and grinning proudly.

"That kid's got some arm on him," Miranda commented with a smirk.

"Hmmm..." Jarod concurred, raising an eyebrow at his son.

"I'd better... um... be elsewhere," she stated wryly then climbed off his lap and added, "What do you say we go into town for dinner tonight?"

"Sure," he agreed, thinking it highly unlikely that he'd ever be capable of refusing her anything.

"Great, I'll go put some real clothes on," she announced then disappeared into the house.

"Not what I wanted to hear," he muttered with a sigh then stood up, picked up the moose and lumbered over to Michael, who was heavily engrossed in the process of inventorying his own toes when his father looked down on him, smiled and asked,

"What did I ever do to you, anyway?"

Although the rainy season wouldn't start for another six weeks or so, a front was moving through and a light, steady rain had begun to fall just after sundown. Exactly forty-three minutes remained of Valentine's Day when Jarod stepped out onto the porch to find Michael sleeping and Miranda sitting in her chair, sipping her favorite night cap - Guaro, a potent, clear liquid which she referred to as "the local rot-gut" mixed with Café Rica, a strong coffee-flavored liqueur. The concoction packed a wallop but even Jarod, who had little tolerance for alcohol, had to admit that it was rather tasty.

"I love the rain," she stated with a sigh.

"I know," he replied softly as he stepped behind her chair. "Ever since you were a girl. You may not remember this, but you once promised me that someday you would take me outside to play in the rain."

"So I did," she concurred then set her glass down and rose from her seat. Padding over to Michael, who was sound asleep with one hand firmly grasping his moose's ear, she smiled and crouched down to tuck the sheet around him. She then stood and glided to the door leading to the small patch of grass and modest garden that lay between the house and the forest which comprised their back yard. Turning to face Jarod, Miranda slowly undid the belt to her robe and let it fall open before sliding it off her shoulders to pool at her feet.

Standing there without a stitch of clothing on, she pushed open the screen door and inquired, "Well? What are you waiting for?" before turning and stepping outside.

It took about ten seconds for the shock to wear off, approximately three to get across the porch to the door, and another five to reach her, making it the longest eighteen seconds of his life. But then it was okay because there was only her: her skin tasting of rain, her scent filling the humid night air, her voice soft and heavy with desire. To make love to Miranda while their child slept safely only a few feet away was an experience beyond description; Jarod felt immeasurable joy.

Afterwards, as they lay entwined enjoying the feel of the warm rain on their bodies, she raised her head off his chest and looked up onto the porch observing,

"He's still out like a light."

"That's my boy," Jarod stated with a grin.

Lowering her head so that her face was just above his, she inquired amusedly, "You didn't slip our child a 'mickey', did you?"

"I am profoundly hurt that you could even suggest such a thing," he replied in a playfully defensive tone then added, "It's no wonder he's out cold; we had a busy day and he barely took a nap."

"Just checking," she sighed then lowered her head to cover his mouth with hers.

Like a perfect angel, Michael slept soundly through the night.

* * * *

"I haven't forgotten that," Jarod stated to his son, who was on the verge of drifting off as the house came into view.

"I owe you one, kiddo."

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: Hey, two posts in two days! It's amazing what one can accomplish when NOT working ten hour days while sick. It's brief but it was the right place to stop. Read on and you'll understand.


Brand New Year, Part 13
By Ginger


He gazed into her eyes as his long, elegant fingers moved languorously across her sweat dampened skin. It was becoming a regular habit of his; when most other men would be on their way to the land of nod, Jarod would spend several minutes lightly sweeping his fingertips over her belly, across her shoulders, down her arms, and anywhere else he could reach, prolonging the highly pleasurable sensations of the erotic moment they'd just shared. It was so loving, intimate and silent as he conveyed everything with his eyes and his fingertips; she felt truly adored.

At first Miranda had been unnerved by these unilateral displays of affection. The tenderness of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, would become too much to bear and panic would rise in her chest, compelling her to reach out to touch him back. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to worship her, consume her, own her. He wanted everything.

His eyelids began to grow heavy, his hand slowing and finally coming to rest possessively on her hip. Only when his eyes fluttered closed for good did she reach over to stroke his cheek. Mapping the features of his handsome face, she sighed. She loved watching him drift into unconsciousness, his expression peaceful and innocent like a beautiful, dark angel.

Miranda had made up her mind on the long ride to Miami. She wanted Jarod; she wanted this. But after a month of prancing around half-naked, stealing his clothing and sleeping beside him, she had begun to wonder if both she and Emily had misread him. Of course, there wasn't a rule that said she couldn't make the first move, and doing so would have hardly been unprecedented, but she had decided against it at the outset. Part of it was fear of rejection, and part of it was fear that he'd only be going through the motions, doing what he thought all mommies and daddies should do. Instead she'd waited and waited and waited, until he finally made the first move and gave her all the assurance and confidence she needed to make the second.

Here it was, a month later, and he'd lost none of his ardor. He wasn't content to make love to her at night (and in the morning) in their bed with a frequency that would make him the envy of most men his age. Jarod seemed to take particular delight in an afternoon frolic whenever, and wherever, the opportunity presented itself. As it had today on the porch.

* * * *

Michael was so tired after their hike that he practically fell asleep in his lunch. Miranda was about to carry him out to the porch for his nap when Jarod intoned,

"Let's put him down in his crib. He shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep."

She acquiesed with a nod and a sly smile. Apparently Daddy wanted some al fresco time with Mommy, and wasn't interested in being quiet about it. After putting their son down and reporting that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow, Jarod dutifully set up the audio and video receivers for the baby monitor, which he had driven all the way to Jan José to purchase the day after Valentine's Day.

She was standing at the kitchen sink when she heard him croon, "Oh, Andi... I seem to recall mention of sensory stimulation."

Grinning she dried her hands and strolled over to the doorway to reply, "If I remember correctly, you're the one who mentioned it."

"So I did," he purred then grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the porch to have his wicked, wicked way with her. Neither of them were quiet about it.

* * * *

"Finally wore you out," she whispered with a smile to the gorgeous man sleeping naked beside her on the rug.

Stretching, she moaned softly when she located a few pleasingly sore muscles then blinked up at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. A glance at the small video monitor confirmed what the silence told her: Michael was still asleep. But he probably wouldn't be for long, and she was thirsty, so she carefully maneuvered out of Jarod's embrace and stood up. Eyeing the array of clothing scattered about the room, she picked up the shirt Jarod had been wearing and slipped it on, buttoning it closed as she paced into the kitchen in search of something cold to drink.

A glass of juice in hand, Miranda padded across the living room to gaze out the front window. Something caught her eye and she squinted to get a better look. As the object of her attention came into focus, she nearly dropped her glass and gasped,

"Oh, my God!"

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.


Brand New Year, Part 14
By Ginger


Flinging the door open, Miranda took her visitor’s head in her hands and demanded, “Am I dreaming? Are you real?”

“Yes, big sister, I’m real,” Ethan replied with a smile before pulling her into a hug.

“I was worried,” she whispered. “When you disappeared, I thought...”

Pulling back he replied sheepishly, “I know, and I’m sorry, but I knew you would be safer if I left. I... I tried to leave a note but it was so... difficult. If I stayed to finish it, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

Nodding she squeezed his shoulder then moved around him to close the front door. Gazing lovingly at her, a wry smile appeared on his lips.

“You’ve changed, Miranda.”

“Have I?” she replied with an unconscious smile. Of course he’d know to address her by her first name.

“Well, your wardrobe definitely has,” he observed, quirking an eyebrow.

Glancing down at her attire, or rather lack thereof, she muttered, “Oh.”

Placing one hand modestly over the opening of Jarod’s shirt and the other where the hem hit her thigh, she guiltily met his eyes. As if on cue, a male voice boomed,

“Ethan!”

Turning in unison, Miranda’s eyes widened while her brother’s expression grew even more amused. A grinning Jarod approached with arms outstretched until Ethan put a hand out to stop him, advising,

“Whoa... whoa... whoa! I’m all for a hug, big brother, but would you mind putting on pants first?”

* * * *

“That’s right,” Ethan encouraged warmly as his nephew, sitting on his lap and pointing to illustrations in a book spread open before them on the kitchen table, recited the word for each item first in English then in Spanish. Ethan had no idea whether or not the Spanish was correct but had every confidence in Michael’s abilities. The child was special, more special than even his parents realized.

Ethan glanced up to find his sister shooting his brother yet another poisonous glare as they worked together in silence preparing dinner. Jarod’s response was a smirk. He was apparently not ashamed in the least to have been caught in flagrante delecto even if Miranda had been mortified.

Sighing softly, Ethan redirected his attention to his nephew. Prior to his arrival he had wondered, with some trepidation, how the two of them were managing to cooperate under such stressful and emotionally-charged circumstances. Turns out there had been no cause for worry. They were obviously “cooperating” just fine. Not that it was by any means a shock: he had sensed a powerful connection between them the moment he’d entered their lives, surmising that it had existed for a long time. And it wasn’t something one needed an “inner sense” to pick up on; it was in their eyes for anyone to see, well, anyone who wanted to. But his cautious attempt to broach the subject after their close call in D.C., which resulted in Jarod’s missing the point entirely, had left him feeling less than optimistic that they would ever see what was right in front of them.

That was then. Now the happiness positively radiated off his big brother; the man was ecstatically, euphorically in love. At the same time there was a new air of calm and peace about him. It was as though he had decided long ago that he belonged to Miranda and was finally allowed to fulfill his destiny. As far as Jarod was concerned, this was the way things were supposed to be.

What Ethan sensed from his sister was less ebullient, almost reticent, but just as intense. The reservoir he could see flowing within her, fed for so many years by memories alone until it was barely a trickle, now ran deep and swift and clear. It had always been her source of strength, made her a survivor, and now, well... Ethan knew one thing for sure: he would hate to be the person who tried to come between Miranda and her men.

Again he looked up from Michael’s book, this time to see Jarod and Miranda reaching for the same dishtowel, their hands colliding on the kitchen counter across which they faced one another. Jarod seized the opportunity to close his hand over hers and looked at her with a combination of adoration and mischief that forced a grudging smile from Miranda. But it was what passed between their eyes that said it all. He grinned and let go of her hand, she grabbed the towel and each returned to their respective tasks.

Since Ethan’s arrival, the voices had been relatively quiet, and when they did speak it was to whisper sweet words like mother, child, happy and love, which certainly made a nice change from the usual fare. The purpose of his visit aside, he was glad to be here. It made him feel warm inside, just as his mother promised it would.

* * * *

"Our little man is finally asleep," Miranda announced as she strode into the bedroom. "And Ethan insists he's comfortable on the porch," she added, peeling off her robe to reveal a short, sky blue nightie.

Jarod grinned, pulled back the sheet for her and replied, "I'm glad he found us. I missed him. Besides, his being here makes you happy."

"Are you really?" she asked with playful skepticism as she slipped in bed beside him. "With company around the house, you won't be able to jump me every 30 seconds."

Tucking the sheet around her, his arm remained draped across her torso as he buried his face in the hollow of her neck, inhaled a few times, and blinked up at her adoringly to reply, "I'll just have to be more resourceful. Now that I can have you whenever I want, I won't let anything, or anyone, stop me."

"Correction, monkeyboy: You can have me whenever *I* want."

The warmth in her eyes belied the coolness of her tone. Lifting his head to hover over hers, Jarod remarked with a smirk, "Then it's amazing how often we're in full agreement."

He lowered his head to the pillow and pressed his face into her hair. Miranda sighed contentedly. Sexy banter aside, she could tell he was in one of his cuddly moods, which was just as well. Any more action and she'd be walking like a cowboy. Tracing the muscles of his bare shoulder with her fingertips, she observed softly,

"It was as if... Michael already knew Ethan."

"He went right to him," he concurred sleepily, adding, "Just like he had with me."

"He's... special," she stated with a hint of wariness.

"He's ours," Jarod countered then sat up to switch off the bedside lamp. Pulling her back into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to her temple and insisted, "Now close those beautiful eyes of yours."

* * * *

"Knock-knock!" Jarod called into the large tent serving as the study team's field office.

"Come in, Jarod!" a voice called from inside.

Pushing aside the flap Jarod ducked his head and stepped inside to be greeted with the usual warmth and enthusiasm by Luis who, with his wife Eleonora, led the study team.

"¡Hola, Miguel!" Luis boomed as he bolted from his chair. Moving quickly around the desk, he continued, "¿Qué pasa? ¿Cómo estás, mi hijo?"

Eleonora looked up from a map of the Park spread out before her and smiled as her husband reached for the bundle on Jarod's back demanding, "Let me see this fine boy!"

Michael went willingly into his arms as he lifted the child out of the carrier. Watching their tender interaction, Jarod smiled. Luis and Eleonora had two children of their own - a boy and a girl - but they were both in school and had to stay behind in San José with their paternal grandparents. Luis and Eleonora were up there almost every weekend, and the children came down during school holidays, but Jarod knew the separation was tough on the family.

"You are looking very happy this morning, Jarod," Eleonora observed as she came up behind her husband, slipped one arm around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Michael touched her cheek and she smiled then took his chubby hand in hers and kissed it.

"Of course he looks happy. He has a beautiful son... and his son's beautiful mother. A man is at his best when he is in love. Am I right, Jarod?"

His face warming, Jarod's reply was a diffident smile.

"Of course, he is also at his worst," Luis tacked on with a shrug.

Rolling her eyes and stepping out from behind him, his wife inquired, "And how is Miranda?"

"Fine, Ele, thanks," Jarod answered. "Speaking of which, our... her brother is visiting and she asked me to invite you two over for dinner. Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Well, Generalissima?" Luis inquired quirking an eyebrow.

"Tomorrow will be fine," Eleonora stated, shooting her husband a look then adding with a smile, "Gracias."

"De nada," Jarod replied amusedly then added, "I guess we're the first to arrive. What's on the agenda for today's meeting?"

"The agenda? Whatever Señor Miguel says is on the agenda! He is the boss, el jefe, el capitán!" Luis exclaimed as he tickled the giggling child.

* * * *

After watching Ethan stare blankly into the distance for several minutes, Miranda emitted a weary sigh and stepped onto the porch. She sat down beside him on the couch; he turned to her and smiled.

The days since his arrival had been busy. Twice he had accompanied Jarod to the Park, once with Michael in tow and once without, and the day before he'd stayed behind to join her and Michael for a trip into town. Despite all the activity, Ethan would occasionally drift like this, and she could sense something weighing on him... heavily. She had no doubt that Jarod sensed it too, although they hadn't discussed it.

"Well," she began with a genial pat to his knee. "It's the first time since you got here that we've had some time to ourselves. Don't you think it's about time?"

"About time?" Ethan repeated distractedly. His gaze had already settled back to a place beyond her field of vision.

"To tell me why you're really here."

He turned to her again and, seeing the determination in his sister's eyes, frowned. Too bad, he thought to himself. He was enjoying himself and had rather hoped to buy another couple days of fun before things got complicated.

"Okay," Ethan replied wanly. "But first I want you to promise me that you'll remain calm."

* * * *

Michael had fallen dead asleep on the hike back from the Park, which was no surprise to his father since the boy had reverted somewhat to his old sleep habits in the excitement over his uncle's visit. In fact, the normally good-natured child had flat out refused to go down for a nap the day before and wouldn't let poor Ethan out of his sight, even following him to the bathroom and standing outside the door to wait for him. Smiling as he quietly entered the house, Jarod mused that his son had definitely inherited his mother's stubborness and persistence. Hoping to get the child into his crib for at least another hour of rest, he moved gingerly in the direction of the nursery.

Mission accomplished, Jarod followed the sound of soft voices and, rounding the corner to enter the kitchen, heard Miranda say,

"...And let me speak to him alone. You DO NOT want to be here when I tell him."

"Tell me what?" Jarod asked, the back of his neck tingling when he met her surprised, tear-stained eyes. Noting with rising anxiety the open bottle of Guaro and box of tissues, and that Ethan held both her hands in his across the table, he repeated more forcefully,

"TELL ME WHAT?"

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Part 15
By Ginger


"Do the words 'over my dead body' mean anything to you?"

Miranda was tempted to shoot back "promises, promises" but held her tongue. It would be so easy to fall back into her old pattern with him; easy, but totally unhelpful. While she had anticipated his hostility, what she hadn't expected was how unpleasant she would find it to be back on the receiving end. In truth, it stung like hell, forcing her to fight back tears as she tried to reason with him. Yeah, right, she thought bitterly. Reason. To say that this topic was a "sore spot" with Jarod was an understatement of comic proportions. Only it wasn't funny; it wasn't the least bit funny. She felt as though she were fighting for the future of her family. For the future, period.

"Jarod," she began evenly. "This is not a choice. If Michael is who the scrolls say he is then our only choices are whether or not to prepare him and how to go about it."

"And, this, according to Ethan?" he sneered in reply. "Oh, yes, let's turn our child into a science experiment on the say-so of a man who hears voices and who, were it not for my intervention, would have committed mass murder."

"Keep it down!" she barked then drew a deep breath and added, "You once asked me to trust my 'inner sense' because you did."

Jarod scoffed. Miranda shook her head solemnly and continued, "I'm asking you to trust me now because that voice inside me, Mama's voice, is telling me that what he says is true. She showed him, Jarod. She came to him and showed him. And, as I suspected, Ethan and Michael have been communicating for months. Our son has a tremendous gift, not to mention the fact that he's highly intelligent, so how long do you think it will take him to figure it out? What do you think we should do, lie to him? Tell him he's like other children when it's so glaringly obvious that he's not?"

"What we should do is give him what we didn't have - the opportunity to be a child. We can protect him; we're the only ones who can."

"Protect him? Protect him from who he really is? That's not protecting him, that's gaslighting him, and I'll be damned if I'll lie to my son the way I was lied to."

Sitting forward in his seat, Jarod glared menacingly at her and warned, "And I'll be damned if I let YOU deprive MY son the opportunity to lead a normal life."

"NORMAL?" she blurted then emitted a bitter chuckle. "Don't you think he's eventually going to notice that we move around a lot and have a different last name every other week? Are we going to try to convince him that everyone lives that way?"

He winced as though her words were an object hitting him in the face, the anger in his eyes giving way to fear. He bolted from his chair and began pacing the kitchen like a caged animal. Miranda swallowed hard and eyed him cautiously. Angry Jarod was a handful; desperate Jarod was another story altogether.

"Listen," she began in a calm, soothing tone as she rose slowly from her seat. "I know this isn't what we had in mind, but we'll be okay. I have to believe that the reason he's ours is that we're the ones who can handle this."

Moving behind him, she placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder and added, "And, while I don't like it any better than you do..."

He spun on her, compelling her to take a defensive step back. Through a tight jaw he challenged, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you're pleased as punch to have your hands on your own little 'lab rat'. Perhaps the apple doesn't fall far from the Parker tree."

Now it was Miranda's turn to feel as though she'd been hit in the face or, more accurately, punched in the stomach. She knew the feeling well: Mr. Parker had been expert at making her feel this way. But despite how unpleasant things had grown between them over the years, Jarod had never made her feel this way, until now. She felt betrayed and humiliated by the abundant tears now rolling down her cheeks. And then she felt rage - blind, searing rage.

"I hate you!" she screamed then slapped him hard across the face, the sickening "thwap" as her palm connected with his cheek echoing in her ears as she bolted from the room.

He may have reached for her, he may have called out to her, Miranda wasn't sure and didn't care as she charged toward the nursery. She entered the room to find Ethan holding, and speaking softly to, Michael, who sniffled and looked at her with damp, red-rimmed eyes. Her heart shattered.

"Baby," she choked out. "I'm so sorry!"

"He'll be fine," Ethan assured as he gently placed his nephew into his sister's outstretched arms. "He's just never heard his mother and father yell before... which, if you think about it, is pretty amazing," he tacked on in a failed attempt to lighten the mood.

"Love you, baby, love you, love you, love you," she chanted between kisses to the top of his head, forehead, nose and cheeks as she paced the floor, bouncing him in her arms.

"Is he alright?"

Miranda turned to find Jarod standing in the doorway and looking about as miserable as she'd ever seen him. She narrowed her eyes then turned her back to him.

"He's fine," Ethan piped in to fill the tense silence. "C'mon, big brother. I'm thirsty; let's get something cold to drink."

Hearing the door close softly behind her, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, wringing fresh tears as she held on to Michael for dear life. After a few seconds he sighed, his warm breath on her neck like salve for whatever ailed her.

"Ma?" he uttered questioningly then wriggled in her arms.

She slackened her grip slightly, allowing him to point to his crib. With a nod, she padded over to it and held him over the gate to pick up his moose. He pressed the creature's snout to her cheek and commanded, "Be-sa!"

Her heart reassembled and swelled as she chuckled and kissed her son's smiling lips. Recalling the days when she could get through just about anything by numbing her emotions, Miranda wondered how on earth people managed to live like this without going stark raving mad.

* * * *

Staring forlornly at the ceiling fan spinning above his head, Jarod observed, "Well, I suppose it's justice. I'll never be able to sleep without her beside me so I'll never sleep again."

"I don't claim to be any sort of an expert on these things," Ethan remarked from his position on the air mattress. "But I think 'never' may be overstating a bit."

"Overstating? I am currently locked out of my own bedroom," Jarod grumbled as he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

After a few more futile attempts to get comfortable, he emitted a loud groan of frustration and sat up. Swinging his legs onto the porch floor, he buried his face in his hands and sighed.

"I'll bet you're sorry that I showed up," Ethan commented wryly.

Combing a hand through his tousled hair Jarod replied, "Remember that YOU said it." Frowning he added, "I'm sorry, Ethan. Whether or not I agree with your interpretation of things, it is not your fault that I... I... hurt her. And I am not sorry that you showed up. I missed you, Michael worships you and Andi adores you. You and Michael make her happy; that's the important thing. Maybe if she's surrounded by people who her make her happy, she won't leave me forever."

"Leave you forever?" the younger man inquired, lifting his head from his pillow to blink incredulously through the darkness at his older brother. "I didn't hear her say anything about leaving you forever."

"I harbor no illusions. I know it's our son that binds her to me, and now we're fighting over him. I also know that until Andi and Michael showed up at my door I was nothing... nothing but an empty shell to be filled by whatever pretend I was engaged in. And if I ever lost them, I... I would rather die than return to that existence."

Rising from the couch, Jarod yawned and stretched then advised, "One of us might as well get some sleep and I'm keeping you up. I think I'll go out for a walk then put the coffee on. Maybe if I make myself useful..." he trailed off as he lumbered into the house, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Dropping his head to his pillow Ethan sighed, "Oh, big brother, you just don't get it."

* * * *

"You MUST have more babies!" Luis exclaimed. "A little girl! You must have a little girl, Jarod, to experience the joy and agony of losing your heart all over again!"

"Luis!" Eleonora scolded, shooting him a warning look from across the table. "You are embarrassing our hosts, and after they have prepared such a lovely meal for us."

"But that is why I am advising them, Ele, for their own good! Look at this fine fellow," he patted the back of Michael's high chair. "He is a born leader and will make a perfect big brother. Won't you, mi capitán!"

Michael cast him a faintly bemused look, tilting his head slightly with eyebrows knit as he considered the man for a beat or two before chuckling and offering him a Cheerio.

"Mmmm... ¡Muy delicioso!" Luis declared as he accepted the offering and chomped exaggeratedly on it.

Cheeks burning, Jarod stole a glance at Miranda, whose eyes were fused to her plate as she reached blindly, and successfully, for her wine glass. Although she had remained icy toward him all day, from the moment their guests arrived she had been the picture of warmth, grace and charm. It was rather chilling, actually, and he speculated that her performance was the result of years of Centre training.

She raised her head and Jarod quickly averted his gaze as he heard her offer with polite ease, "May I interest anyone in coffee and dessert? Perhaps a little brandy?"

He shivered, wondering if she was plotting his death as he glanced suspiciously at his nearly-empty wine glass, the glass SHE had filled. He looked up to find Ethan staring at him with barely contained amusement and, for the first time in his life, understood the desire to seriously pummel a younger sibling.

* * * *

"Thanks again for the wine; it was lovely!" Miranda called from the doorway then disappeared into the house.

After closing the passenger door and waving through the window at Eleonora, Jarod walked around the car to shake Luis's hand, offering, "It was truly a pleasure."

"For Eleonora and me, definitely, but I fear not for you, mi amigo."

"Excuse me?" Jarod replied, blinking in confusion.

"Whatever it is that you have done, you have my blessing to take tomorrow off to make it right. Perhaps your brother-in-law can take Miguel out for the day?"

"B... but... she?"

"Is a perfect angel - you are a lucky man - but you are like a man condemned to the gallows and I know because I have been there myself... too many times." Luis sighed then continued with a wry chuckle, "To remain lucky you must learn to grovel... to crawl... to make yourself lower than the lowest of God's creatures. Be brave, mi hermano!" he advised, squeezing Jarod's shoulder with one hand while saluting with the other.

"You will be in my prayers," he tacked on solemnly before erupting with laughter, which continued as he opened the car door and climbed in beside his wife and remained audible over the sound of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as they drove off.

As soon as the car rounded the bend and was out of sight, Jarod turned to face the house. Frowning he grumbled, "I'm glad everyone finds this so amusing."

* * * *

Ethan was clearing the table with Michael in his usual position at his heels. Without looking up he reported,

"She's taking a hot bath."

Slumping into a chair Jarod sighed wistfully and said, "Did you see how flawlessly she juggled the dual roles of hostess and executioner?"

"Oh yeah," Ethan replied wryly. "I'll have to remember to never, ever make her angry with me."

"Nobody can torture me the way she can. Nobody. And considering where I spent thirty years of my life, that's saying something."

"That's because you love her."

"So much that I'm fairly certain it will be the death of me."

"Wait a minute!" Ethan exclaimed, startling both Jarod and Michael as he set a handful of dirty plates down heavily. Taking a seat and pulling Michael onto his lap he accused, "You haven't told her!"

"I... I... she... she knows!" Jarod babbled defensively. Ethan simply stared, agape, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Doesn't she? You must be able to tell! You two have that... connection!"

"Oh no," Ethan protested, raising his free hand for emphasis. "I tried wandering on to that minefield once. Never again. There is only one person in this room who can rectify the situation and it isn't either person seated in THIS chair."

Jarod pondered a moment, nodded gravely, smiled sheepishly, and asked, "Well, then, would you mind doing an idiot a favor?"

"I'm on it, big brother." Addressing the child on his lap, Ethan inquired, "What do you say, kiddo? How do you feel about a slumber party on the porch?"

Rising from his chair, Jarod paced across the room and leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead. Squeezing his brother's shoulder he advised, "Just make sure there's some actual slumber, okay?"

Ethan nodded, sighing in relief as he watched his brother exit the room. Returning his attention to his nephew, he found Michael blinking expectantly at him.

"We may hear voices," he whispered with a conspiratorial smile. "But, between you and me, I think WE'RE the sane ones."

# # # #

Tbc...

A/N: Don't blame ME for poor Jarod's ordeal in this chapter. It's actually all Phenyx's fault. Since she's clearly not having Miss Parker make him PAY DEARLY for his inexcusable behavior in her current fic, I feel compelled to do it here. So, on his knees he goes! *Evil Grin*

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Part 16
By Ginger


"I thought I locked the door," Miranda stated without opening her eyes as Jarod slipped into the steamy bathroom.

"You did," he replied matter-of-factly, unable to fully contain a smirk when she clicked her tongue in exasperation.

"Toilet's over there," she slowly unfurled one pale, exquisitely sculpted arm to point then continued, "Use it. Flush it. Leave."

"I'm not here to use the toilet. I'm here to fling myself at your feet and beg for mercy."

"Then I'm disappointed in you, Jarod. I'd have thought that a smart boy like you would have figured out by now that a PARKER SHOWS NO MERCY."

He winced. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. Then again, he hadn't really expected her to. He tugged on his collar. As if the climate weren't humid enough, the steam was making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. What the heck, he thought, and peeled it off.

"What do you think you're doing?" She had finally opened her eyes, those devasting blue orbs trained on him. He swallowed hard but continued undressing and answered,

"Taking off my clothes."

"Well, you can forget it, buddy. You're cut off."

He chuckled and replied, "Fair enough, but I have some things to say to you and it's stifling in here. How can you stand it?"

"It's good for the skin. Besides, it feels cooler in the bedroom when I get out."

"Well, it's certainly cool in there right now."

She snickered and it was a low, throaty sound that made his skin tingle. He stifled a grin and continued, "Speaking of which, I didn't sleep a wink last night. It was agony. In fact, every moment since I made that awful, hurtful comment has been torture. And I've been trying to apologize ever since but you wouldn't let me."

"And make you feel better? What for?" Miranda shifted in the tub, one delectable thigh emerging from the water, and continued, "This isn't all about you, Jarod. We're talking about my son too."

"I know and I'm sorry. I was sorry the moment the words left my mouth. I didn't mean them; you have to know that. I only said them to hurt you because I was frustrated and scared and you seemed so sure about everything. Now may I please get in there with you?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I have more to say and I want... I need to be close to you when I say it. Please."

She hesitated another second or two, just long enough for his heart to begin pounding in his chest. Then she grasped both sides of the tub and slid forward to make room for him behind her. Expelling an enormous sigh of relief, he climbed in and immediately pulled her to him.

"This doesn't make it all better," Miranda warned. "We still need to have a long, rational conversation about this."

"I know," he muttered into her hair as he folded both of his hands over hers then folded both their arms around her waist. "I know I haven't been terribly realistic of late. It's been so perfect here that I tried to convince myself that our little paradise could last forever."

"God, Jarod, he's my baby. How do you think I felt when Ethan told me he was destined to fight the same battle that we have, and that the battle won't be won until he wins it. And now I'm even more confused about Mr. Parker's motives. Did he take the scrolls to protect Michael from the Centre or the Centre from Michael? I will never know and I have to find a way to live with that."

He nodded, pressing his lips to her temple as he tightened his hold on her. "And all this time," he sighed. "I thought it was about me."

"Imagine that," she remarked with a roll of her eyes then continued, "I guess that's what he meant when he said that the 'new' Parker legacy begins with me. Oh, hell, I don't know what he meant. And what difference does it make, anyway? I'm tired; I didn't sleep so well last night either."

"I'm so sorry, Andi. Of all nights to leave you alone."

"Well, for the record, I did kick you out. Of course, that was because you were being an asshole."

He closed his eyes and smiled against her cheek.

"Wait a minute," she said, pulling forward enough to crane her neck and look back at him. He blinked open his eyes to meet hers.

"I thought you had something else to say to me."

"Oh yeah," he muttered with a diffident smile.

"Well?"

"Well..." He took a deep breath and proceeded, "I know the last couple of months of have been... Who am I kidding; there isn't an adjective in any of the languages I know to adequately describe it. We were thrown into a situation not of our own making and now... now we find out that we could be here to play out a scene written a thousand years ago. And I don't kid myself. I know you wouldn't be here with me if it weren't for Michael. And maybe that should bother me. Maybe my self-esteem should demand more, but it doesn't. Maybe I don't have any and, if not, I don't care. The truth of the matter is that I didn't fall in love with you because of your connection to Michael; I fell in love with Michael because of his connection to you. You are the most difficult, infuriating, and exciting woman I have ever met and I think I was probably ruined for anyone else the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time. I've wanted you forever and his existence has made having you possible and, whether due to Mr. Parker's twisted scheme or the fulfillment of an age-old prophecy, I don't regret it. I love you, Andi. I love you so much that it is pointless to try to quantify it. You are my life."

There was a moment's pause and then, "That's it?"

"Yes," he sighed, shaking his head. "I think that about covers it."

"So you think my being here, naked in your arms, is all about Michael."

"Not entirely. I've always had the feeling that you thought I was kind of cute but, you are correct, I do not believe we ever would have gotten here without him."

"You do have a point, but what about this..."

"Ow!" Jarod yelped. "You pinched me!"

Pulling forward to turn and face him again she stated, "Yes, I did! What the hell is wrong with you? I swear, it's like living with 'Rainman!' With one look he can count, to a one, a spilled box of toothpicks but he can only buy his underpants at K-Mart!"

"Miranda, I have no idea what this has to do with either toothpicks or underpants, nor can I discern the connection to Native American culture. But since you are not the first person to look at me that way today, I guess I am going to have to take your word for it."

She laughed and could not resist the urge to give him a quick peck on the lips before responding, "I said 'Rainman' not 'Raindancer'. And the point is that being here, with you, makes me happy, happier than I've ever been in my life... with anyone." She paused a moment to let the implication sink in. "And it scares the living shit out of me. Oh, and congratulations to me, I have apparently fallen in love with an idiot savant!"

"You have?" he asked, looking every bit the hopeful puppy.

"Jarod," she sighed. "Think about it. You've been saying lousy things to me for years. Among other things, you have likened me to one of the Three Stooges, a Chia Pet and the Wicked Witch of the West. And now, all of a sudden, it really hurts my feelings? You made me, The Ice Princess, cry like a girl, for Christ's sake! And you LIVED!"

"I'm sorry... I."

"Oh, no, don't you dare promise to never do it again because we both know you will."

"But..."

"And you will be punished because that's what I do."

"Okay."

"You will come to me on your knees - for the record, on your knees is good - and beg my forgiveness, which after the appropriate interval I will bestow. And following in due course will be the make-up sex. That is unless you've really blown it, in which case I will kill you, dismember your body, boil the parts until your bones are bleached white and feed them to the dog."

"We don't have a dog."

"I will go to the pound and get one solely for that purpose."

"If you say so but I think it would be easier if we tried to... Did you say make-up sex?"

* * * *

Covered in sweat and still a little breathless, Jarod grinned up at the ceiling and observed, "It's hot in here."

"Mmm-hmm..." was all the response Miranda could muster as she lay boneless beside him.

"When I regain some feeling in my legs, I'll get up and check the thermostat for the central air," he offered then turned his head to shoot her a toothy grin.

"Whatever," she sighed with a sleepy, lopsided smile then added, "I hope Ethan isn't keeping Michael up all night."

"You know," he began, turning completely on his side to face her. "I misspoke earlier."

"Mmmm...?"

"About regrets. I do have one."

"Really... What's that?" she asked on a yawn.

"That he didn't come from here," he replied as he placed his hand on her abdomen then went on, "That I didn't put him here myself on a night like this. That I didn't get to watch your body change as he grew inside you. That I wasn't there with you to welcome him into the world."

"Sounds nice... the way you describe it."

"Didn't you ever want to?"

"What?"

"Be a mother."

"Um, newsflash, Jarod: I am a mother."

"I meant the old-fashioned way."

"Jarod," she uttered warily, suddenly feeling wide-awake.

"I've been thinking about what Luis said at dinner tonight."

"You have GOT to be kidding me," she groaned then propped herself into a half-seated position and advised, "Let's take another little trip to reality, shall we? We already have a child whose current and future well- being is, and will likely remain, a constant source of anxiety. We're hiding from a powerful organization, which is probably more interested in wiping us off the face of the earth than anything else at this point. Oh, and I'm 116 years old."

"I suppose you're right," he conceded with a sigh.

"On the other hand..." he continued after a few moments of silence, drumming his fingers on the taught flesh of her belly. "Luis is right: Michael WOULD make an excellent big brother. And, according to Ethan, the scrolls refer to the 'children' of the Angel and the Chosen - we're talking plural, not singular. Glare at me all you want, Andi; I didn't write it. It's a prophecy."

"Dream all you want, monkeyboy," she shot back, slapping his hand off her stomach. "It's a fantasy."

Seemingly undeterred he inched closer and nuzzled her neck, purring, "Has anyone ever told you that you are remarkably well-preserved for a woman of 116?"

# # # #

See Part 1 for disclaimer.

Brand New Year, Part 17
WARNING: The following may induce vomiting.

By Ginger


“So, what are you hoping for: A boy or a girl?”

“What?” Emily inquired defensively to the look shot at her from across the kitchen counter then pointed out, “It’s a question! People ask!”

“Yes, but I expected more of you,” Miranda stated with a smirk as she lifted her mug of herbal tea.

“Hey, at least I didn’t tell you you’re glowing.”

“Which is nice because it means that I don’t have to kill you... God,” Miranda sighed and continued, “The things I let that brother of yours talk me into. Now I find myself spouting clichés like: ‘I don’t care whether we have a boy or a girl, as long as the baby is healthy and has ten fingers and ten toes.’ Oh, and an inherent ability to give the appearance of normalcy while always keeping one eye trained over his or her shoulder would be a nice bonus.”

With a sympathetic smile Emily offered, “It’s a real leap of faith, I know, but you seem to be holding up okay. In fact, at the risk of incurring egregious bodily harm, I must confess to detecting a tiny hint of iridescence, you know, just around the edges.”

“I’m going to forget you said that... Hell, who am I kidding, I’m outnumbered. Every morning Jarod brings Michael into the bedroom so the two of them can engage in a lengthy, in-depth conversations with my navel.”

“That sounds nauseatingly cute.”

“Well, I’m usually pretty nauseated, but I guess that could be morning sickness.”

"How are you feeling, really?"

"Pretty good, actually. According to the books that your brother will insist on bringing home, the second trimester is about as good as it gets. I've got more energy now and, joking aside, the nausea is just about gone. Of course, I can look forward to getting big as a house, swelling ankles, stretch marks, and hemmoroids. Yup, this experience definitely has 'Compliments of Jarod' written all over it."

"Well, I certainly hope so. And what did you expect, the way you two carry on?"

"Excuse me?"

"I got the live show - well, the audio, which was more than I needed, thank you - while I was getting dressed this morning."

"Sorry," Miranda offered with a wince.

Emily shrugged and, after a few moments of companionable silence, observed, “Wow, what a difference a year makes. It sounds like you guys really are... alright.”

With a sigh Miranda reflected, “I guess we just needed to strike the right balance between living in fear and living in hope.”

* * * *

Once the dust had settled after Jarod’s outburst, he and Miranda were still left facing the implications of Ethan’s disclosure. Several long, tense conversations ensued as they struggled to find a way to prepare Michael to bear a burden that neither wanted him to carry.

Ethan remained with them for a few weeks until one evening at dinner he announced, rather abruptly, that he would be leaving early the next morning. When in unison his siblings asked why, he simply responded that it was time for him to go. Later, each one confronted him individually to press the issue, only to receive the same sweet smile and unsatisfactory reply that it was “time to go.” On the morning of his departure, he promised not to stay away too long and, with a wink to his nephew, assured that he would never be too far away.

Then they were three, again. Field work on the study concluded in early May, around the time of Michael’s second birthday. So, Jarod and Miranda threw a party, which ultimately ended up doubling as the wrap party. Everyone on the study team was there, and Luis and Ele had their children come down for the weekend so they could attend. It was a big success, and Michael had a ball, gleefully unwrapping gifts while throwing around smiles that charmed the pants off everyone in the room. Having accompanied his father to work often, he had been adopted by the team as their mascot and, if the large pile of gifts he received were any indication, he was clearly popular boy. Watching him work the room, his mother noted with amusement and affection that he was definitely his father’s son.

Late that night, as they lay in bed together exhausted after cleaning up, Jarod and Miranda agreed that it felt like the right time to move on. While they hated leaving behind their little slice of paradise, both were keenly aware that lingering too long would place their son, themselves and the people they had let into their lives in danger. As they were packing to leave the next day, taking few of their own belongings to save space for Michael’s things, Miranda sighed, slumped onto the bed and remarked,

“So, this is our life.”

“It’s not so bad,” Jarod offered encouragingly. “At least we’re not alone.”

Meeting his eyes, it dawned on Miranda that this was the only life, outside of the Centre anyway, that Jarod had ever known and that, for him, it actually marked a vast improvement over the years spent wandering alone to evade capture. She shot up from the bed and was in his arms in an instant, holding him close and tenderly stroking his hair as she murmured, “You’re right; we’re not alone. I love you.”

Crushing her to him he nodded and replied, “I love you too, Andi.” Slackening his hold, he pulled back and with an impish grin observed, "It really would be a shame to leave ALL those bikinis behind. One... or two... will hardly take up any space at all."

Rolling her eyes she agreed, "Okay, monkeyboy, two. You pick."

"Um," he began, his face twisting into an intensely earnest expression. "The black and... the blue."

"Black and blue, eh?" she remarked with a smirk.

"Rather fitting, wouldn't you say, for a guy in love with you."

Early the following morning they were on their way, to where they had no idea so they decided to see more of the country as they plotted their course. Two days after their departure, Jarod contacted the real estate agent to say that they had been called home earlier than expected, that the keys to the house should be arriving that day via courier, and that she was free to either offer the things they'd left behind to the next tenants or to donate everything to charity.

About a week later, during their stay at Tortuguero on the Caribbean Coast, they agreed to go back to the beginning, so to speak, and head to Scotland to try to find out anything else they could about the scrolls. While neither had any intention of stepping foot on the cursed Isle of Carthis with their son, they figured it couldn't hurt to do a little investigating on the mainland.

There was one final bit of business to attend to on their last day in Costa Rica. Strolling lazily through the village with Michael napping in the carrier on his father's back, they approached a small gift shop and stopped. Looking knowingly into one another's eyes, they stepped up to the rack of post cards next to the entrance and began flipping through them, each taking turns holding up a card for the other's inspection, shaking their heads, and making another selection. When they found what they were looking for they went inside. Jarod scrawled a message on the back of the card and held it up for Miranda to read. She nodded and he handed it to the shopkeeper to post along with at least five times what he owed the man. They left without getting their change. Flipping the card over to read it, the shopkeeper furrowed his brow and sighed, attributing his lack of comprehension to a limited knowledge of the English language. With a shrug he set down the photograph of a monkey clinging contentedly to a tree trunk and dismissed the strange words written on the back:

*To the Man With The Yellow Hat - The little monkey that got away is enjoying his refuge.*

Having let their surrogate father and friend know that they were well, they left behind their tropical paradise, thereby bringing to a close the first chapter of their life together, which in retrospect was actually more of a prologue.

While their visit to Scotland was in many ways pleasant, with Jarod and Miranda passing easily as academics enjoying a long summer holiday with their young son, it was proving less than fruitful with regard to their quest for information about the scrolls. They were disappointed, if not surprised, to find that most church scholars, historians, and folklorists they contacted claimed complete ignorance of the scrolls. And the few who didn't were nervous or hostile or both and, therefore, not particularly forthcoming on the topic. Meanwhile, Michael's fascination with monkeys was replaced by an obsession with sheep and border collies. Muddiness ensued, prompting Miranda to buy him his own little pair of bright yellow Wellies and a matching rain slicker that made him look like Paddington Bear.

Feeling a good deal less secure so close to the scene of so much trouble less than two years earlier, they moved around frequently, rarely spending more than a night or two in the same place. Miranda began to have trouble sleeping or, at least, staying asleep. She would wake up with a start several times a night, as if from a nightmare, but could not recall what she'd been dreaming. Jarod became increasingly worried and had pretty much made up his mind that they were leaving Scotland the night that she gasped and bolted upright in bed.

"What is it?" Jarod asked with concern as he flicked on the bedside lamp. He was wide awake, having all but abandoned sleep since she had begun having the dreams.

"Interpretation!" Miranda blurted in a loud whisper then glanced over at the crib in the corner of the room to see if their son had stirred. Satisfied that he hadn't she continued, "What Mama told Ethan was that the scrolls predicted Michael would 'bring about' the downfall of the Centre."

"Yes," he replied with a weary sigh and a frown. "We've already covered that."

"No," she challenged, waving her hand dismissively. "We've interpreted 'bring about' to mean that he, personally, would be the one to destroy the Centre. But 'bring about' doesn't necessarily mean 'to act', does it? Couldn't it mean 'to cause' or 'influence' or, maybe even, 'inspire'?"

She cast him a knowing glance, which he answered with a blank stare for a beat or two then his eyes widened in comprehension and he asked hopefully, "Do you think it could mean...?"

"That... maybe... Michael's existence was meant to bring us, the Angel and the Chosen, together. And we're together for a purpose. I mean a purpose beyond this..." She reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling as she ran her thumb lovingly over his birthmark before adding, "Maybe we're supposed to fight like hell to destroy that place so our children will never have to live the way we did. Our motivation is personal but it serves a higher purpose. Maybe it's suppose to be that way. Maybe it was always meant to be that way. You said it: that you've always known that there was more to our lives than you run and I chase."

"Actually, I was more or less referring to this," he confessed with a nod at the bed they were currently occupying.

"Yeah," she stated with a grin. "I know, but this works too, doesn't it?"

"So," he began. "Instead of running we..."

"Fight," she finished.

"We'll need help."

"We've got help - three very capable men already on the inside, four if we count Sam."

"Can we count Sam?"

"Yes, I believe we can. He arrived on the scene when I was taking Michael. Everything was happening so quickly that I'm not sure exactly how, but I believe he acted in some way to assist me."

"It won't be easy," he warned as he pulled her into an embrace.

"Like difficult makes a change for us," she muttered softly against his neck.

Drawing lazy circles on her arm, Jarod reflected for a moment or two then smiled and remarked, "You said 'children', Andi. 'So our children will never have to live the way we did.'"

"Did I? Shit."

* * * *

"So," Miranda explained over her second cup of tea. "Sydney, Broots and Angelo are our eyes and ears on the inside with Sam doing his best to watch their backs. And Broots, of all people, is leading an underground movement, organizing a group of Centre employees who are tired of selling their souls and want to make things right. Broots, a natural-born leader. Who knew?" She chuckled then added, "He's really something. You know what that little shit said to me?"

"Hmmm?" Emily responded over her mug as she drew a sip.

"When we rendezvoused with him and Sam a few weeks back, I made a remark about how surreal it must be to see Jarod and me together like this and he said, 'Yeah, it's a real shocker, to anyone born without eyes and ears maybe.'"

"The nerve," Emily commented with a smirk.

"Well, I remember a time when he'd never have dared," Miranda said with a wistful sigh then added, "Of course, that was before I became a mere vessel for Jarod's spawn."

"I heard that," a male voice called from the doorway.

"Which is why I said it," she shot back without turning around.

"Hey Em," Jarod greeted as he approached his sister with open arms. Wrapping them snuggly around her, he kissed her forehead and said, "I was wondering when I'd run into you."

"I've been working as a stringer for the local rag and had an early assignment so I couldn't wait up for you guys last night."

"It's great to see you," he said, giving her another bear hug.

"You too, daddy-to-be-again."

"Isn't it great!" he beamed.

"Where is my son?" Miranda asked with a slight cock of her head.

"I left him out in the garage with Dad and James. He made his desire to remain there abundantly clear. He is his mother's son, you know," he added addressing his sister then continued, "It's a beautiful day. Mid- sixties. What do you two say to a walk?"

"I've got a story to write so I'll have to decline, but you two should definitely go," Emily advised as she slid off the stool and paced over to the sink rinse out her mug, adding over her shoulder, "Carmel is a lot more habitable this time of year than Old Forge. I think it's like seventeen degrees there today."

"True," Jarod concurred with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I'd still like to get back there someday. It is, after all, the place where my life began."

* * * *

"Did you have to be so rude?" Jarod challenged as they approached the house.

"Yes, I believe I did. The guy was an asshole."

"Agreed, but was it really necessary for you to announce that fact to everyone in the store?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Would it kill you to hold that tongue of yours once in a while?"

"You don't seem to have any problem with this tongue of mine when I'm using it to..."

"Dad."

"Son."

"Charles."

"Did you kids have a nice walk?" the Major asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Fabulous," Miranda replied rolling her eyes then added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to urinate for about the fiftieth time today thanks to your son," before jogging up the front steps and disappearing into the house.

"Subtlety is not her strong suit," Jarod stated with a sigh.

"Told her you love her today?"

"Twice... so far."

"That's my boy!" his father offered with a slap on the back then walked around the house toward the garage.

Jarod shook his head and, bearing a wry smile, sauntered up the porch steps and into the house.

* * * *

"So, tell me," Miranda inquired conspiratorily over her cards. "Is this Laurel chick I've been hearing so much about your girlfriend?"

Blushing a deep red James protested, "She's not a chick! She... she's amazing. She's the editor of her school newspaper, knows almost as much about computers as I do, and... and you should see her surf. She's teaching me but there's no way I'll ever be as good as she is."

"Bet she looks cute in a bikini too."

"Well... yeah," he admitted, averting his eyes.

"Gin!" Miranda announced triumphantly.

"No fair," James grumbled through a grudging smile. "You've been distracting me. I think pregnancy has made you evil."

"Correction, kiddo," she replied with a snicker.

"Pregnancy has made me MORE evil."

* * * *

Jarod stepped out onto the deck to find Miranda sitting on the porch swing, propelling it gently to and fro with one foot as she gazed up into the night sky. Michael was sound asleep with his head in her lap, one ear pressed against the still modest, but nonetheless visible, swell of her abdomen. Jarod smiled, taking a moment to revel in everything that was beautiful and right with his world before approaching the swing.

"Any room for me?" he asked softly.

Miranda nodded, motioning for him sit down beside them. He carefully lifted his son's legs to slide beneath them so that Michael's body spanned both his parents' laps. The child stirred slightly and blinked his eyes open for instant.

"It's okay, kiddo," Jarod soothed. "It's only me."

"Daddy," the boy yawned then drifted off again.

Jarod turned his head to press a kiss to Miranda's temple then uttered into her hair, "I've been thinking..."

"Again?" she remarked. "I thought we agreed you were going to stop that."

He chuffed then continued, "Remember, last year, when you said that if things ever changed, you would take your mother's maiden name?"

"Mmm-hmm," she responded lazily.

"Well... I was wondering if... when... and if... we succeed in changing things, you would considering taking another name... mine."

Miranda straightened in her seat, met Jarod's eyes and inquired, "So, this is a marriage proposal?"

Blinking away from the intensity of her gaze he answered, "Yes, I guess it is. Of course, there's no telling when I'll actually be able to follow through on it. The Centre isn't going anywhere tomorrow and we still haven't found my mother."

"This year, Jarod," she assured, nuzzling him. "Like I told Em and your dad this afternoon, Broots's leads are getting fresher all the time. We'll find her this year."

Nodding he continued, "So... What do you say? Could be a year; could be fifty. Either way, you're worth the wait."

"Yes," she replied with a smirk. "I will marry you in fifty years, Jarod."

"Sure, you say that now," he challenged playfully. "Because you think I won't make it to ninety."

"Oh, you'll make it, alright. If only to compel me to keep my promise."

"Well it is a matter of principle," he tacked on with a smile. Silence reigned for a time until he stated,

"It's a brand new year, Andi."

"That it is, Jarod."

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