Written a few years ago now. Not exactly my best or favourite piece. But it's okay, I guess. Apologies for the grammar.

Last Chance
Things I Need To Tell You



It was a dingy warehouse that Miss Parker found herself in, not unlike every other dingy place that Jarod had stayed in over the years, full of his latest snack treat (chocolate ice cream topping), PEZ, and red note books. She could tell it was his current lair by the DSA player sitting along side a brand-new laptop. Still she reasoned; it was better than the cargo container. Parker sat down on the bed, which was little more than a mattress on the floor; and immediately stood up again, while Jarod wasn't exactly a filthy person she still shuddered to think what was on the bed with her.

She started to pace after almost an hour, but this did not alleviate the lack of anything to do with her hands. It made her want a cigarette, which she considered strange after all these years. Another hour passed, she stripped herself of her jacket and empty holster - though it worried her to do so she had left her gun at the hotel - the last thing she needed was to become tempted to use it and shoot wonder-boys inflated head.

Jarod arrived almost 3 hours after she had. He opened the door, still in a deep-blue business suit, to find her once again on the bed, as soon as he caught sight of her his eyes widened in shock and fear, he scanned the room and tried to bolt. Only to find the door he’d closed behind him locked.

“I have the key, Jarod, and I’ll give it to you in a second.”

Jarod turned, angry at this strange form of imprisonment, she saw him eye the key she had pulled out and then glance to the windows.

“You could jump; but it’d be quicker, easier and less painful to actually listen to what I’ve stayed in this hell hole for hours to tell you.”

Jarod regarded her for a moment, his eyes now flickering to the waist band of her pants, which usually held her holster, she gestured to the table.

“Where's your gun?” he said warily, noting the holsters emptiness.

“At the hotel,” she replied simply.

He eyed her with obvious doubt but apparently decided to believe her as he started to quickly gather what little possessions she had seen in the room.

“Why are you here, Miss Parker?” he asked, having just gathered up his PEZ dispensers.

Miss Parker suddenly looked uncomfortable; she got up and paced the room again.

Eventually she said, “They’ve found a way to bring you back, Jarod, and this time its fool proof.”

Jarod looked up from packing his leather jacket, “How?” he asked, curiosity betraying the hard lines that had appeared on his face.

“It’s remarkably simple,” she explained continuing pacing, avoiding him as she did another circuit of the room.

“The Powers That Be all sat down in a little room, much like they must have done when they decided to introduce us, and when they put me in charge of the hunt, and they decided to destroy the one thing you rely on in the real world.”

“What's that?”

“Your credibility, Jarod,” she sighed, “in just under 4 hours America’s Most Wanted will be doing an entire show on an elusive chameleon, a young man who was tragically injured an accident where he lost his memory.

“He escaped the Delaware facility that had been caring for him. And for the last five years, has been wandering the country trying to find the family that was killed in the accident,” she stopped to take a breath, and began just as she had before; in a perfectly detached manner that was betrayed by the sadness and anger he could read in her eyes.

“He is a dangerous vigilante who has acquired a perverse sense of justice, he likes to imitate professionals - in particular doctors. His remaining family has fronted a million dollar reward for information leading to his capture and return to the institute.”

Jarod just gaped, she understood exactly; she had done the same thing when Sydney had told her.

“Million dollar reward … perverse sense of justice … family killed in an accident!”

“It wasn't my idea,” Miss Parker tried to explain, though she knew that even if he believed her (and a dismissive wave of his hand told her he did) she wouldn’t escape this anger.

“So what are you doing here Miss Parker? Wanted to see my face when they destroyed what little I had? Come to gloat?” he yelled, temper rising.

“No,” she said, making sure her voice didn’t rise with his.

“Then what,” he hissed, “are you here for?”

She didn't look at him when she said it, “To give you a head start, Jarod, as much as I hate your guts some times, you don’t deserve to be hunted, lest of all by the very people you tried to save, you deserve a head start.

“So go to some small country or across the border and stay the hell away.” Her voice got small suddenly, “And also because I know now that even if I dragged you in by your ear I’d never be free, the Powers That Be seem to like me on their twisted game board, so go and be fucking free for me.”

Jarod stood stunned for a moment, then crossed the room to where she was - avoiding the mattress as he did so - he stopped in front of her, his eyes unusually bright. She looked further away but didn't struggle as he took her hands in his.

“I just want you to know, Miss Parker,” he said, his voice a mere whisper, “that if I could free you - you’d be free.”

Though she was not directly looking at him, he could tell her eyes where also bright.

“So you’ll actually do as I ask?”

Jarod grinned, and shook his head, “Never.”

Bright tears fell to the grimy floor, Jarod’s grin failed.

“Don’t cry, Parker,” he pleaded, “I hate it when you cry.”

She ignored him, “They’ll catch you and they may even kill you.”

The words echoed around the room, catching in between them. They, Jarod though, she said they, not us but they.

“I know you can’t understand this, but I still need to make amends for what I’ve done - what they made me do.”

Parker nodded her head in a rare moment of agreement, “I do understand, better than you know, and sometimes I wish I could do what you do, but I’m afraid this is the best I can do.”

Jarod smiled again and realised that he still held her hands, but he didn't drop them and she didn't pull away.

“I know, and I appreciate it all the more because I know that.”

Miss Parker smiled, not the usual predatory smile she wore when she caught him, or the weak smiles she gave when she was expected to. This was a real smile. It made his heart warm.

He brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed it, her square ring brushing his cheek. He brought her hand down but didn't let go, he was too captivated by her eyes, which somewhere along the way had turned towards him, and were now gazing at him.

“What,” he asked after they had remained that way for several moments.

“I’ve been chasing you for too long, Jarod.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve grown to use to you,” she admitted, “I’ve gotten use to your late night phone calls, your tormenting, your jokes, I’ve just gotten use to you.”

Their faces had gotten closer during her speech; unconsciously Parker found herself wetting her lips.

“Do you trust me, Melanie?”

They where so close that if either moved their lips would touch but she was determined not to let that stop her responding. “With my life,” she breathed.

Jarod smiled, “I may just call you on that one day,” he said as he closed the distance between them.

The next morning Miss Parker woke up in her hotel room, not really aware of how they’d managed to get there but remembering clearly her firm insistence that it needed to be her place. She rolled over; fully expecting an empty space beside her, breakfast on a chair (because he told her she was to thin) and a note on the mirror telling her he was sorry he missed her.

She was not disappointed.

Last Chance
Light That Brightens The Dark



The double glass doors opened and Lyle strode into the new tech-lab, Miss Parker noted that the grin he'd been wearing the past few days only now starting to fade. He stopped behind Broots' computer, regarding the room full of busy techs with obvious disdain.

"Any news?"

Broots shook his head, "All up we've had over 200 hits, of that over a hundred have been complaints, people talking about, how, uh, wonderful Jarod is."

Lyle didn't bother to pretend not to look sick.

"We have also had around 30 calls giving us advice, on exactly what we should do with him when we catch him. I uh, think that were from the people Jarod caught."

Lyle ignored the obvious, "Did you record them?"

"Uh, no Mr Lyle," Broots quivered.

"Pity. Record the next one will you. I'd like to hear what Jarod's 'public' has to say."

He swept from the lab, the glass doors hissing closed behind him.

"I'd like to hear what Lyle's public has to say about him," said Miss Parker as the doors closed, she and Sydney got up from the couch to take up Lyle's spot behind Broots, who was nodded his agreement at the screen.

"So," Sydney said, checking to see if anyone was listening, "Have you had any contact with Jarod lately?"

Miss Parker took a sip of her coffee before shaking her head and replying, "Not since it aired."

"And there really hasn't been any hits Broots?"

The tech swivelled round to face them, "No, I told Mr Lyle all we've got."

"Well from now on-" "You first," he finished for her.

Miss Parker smiled, "Good man," she said, and left the buzzing Tech lab - Sydney in tow.

They walked towards the elevators, the new Tech-lab had been built to house and track the information on Jarod's whereabouts. The Powers That Be had chosen SL-2, so even the saps that believed that they really were out to, 'find Jarod to help him' could have clearance.

As they walked Parker noted that Sydney looked decidedly worried. To the casual observer he was - as always - an epitome of calm. However, she noticed the way he kept clenching his hands in his pockets and the way his accent was more pronounced.

"Sydney," she said, though she wasn't really one for reassuring people she could try, "I'll bet that Jarod's on a beach somewhere getting a tan, that I deserve, and drinking disgusting combinations of soft drinks."

Sydney frowned slightly, "Jarod wouldn't just leave like that, he wants to know the answers to badly to leave."

They continued walking, in silence eventually she broke it; "I don't know Syd, this could be the final straw."

The old psychiatrist shook his head in reply.

"There's also the fact you think he'd say goodbye."

Sydney smiled as the elevator door closed, "I think that when Jarod says goodbye, it will be a final goodbye."

Miss Parker wasn't sure what he was referring to, but it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anticipation.

"Jarod stop!" Miss Parker yelled.

Jarod rounded a corner, two seconds later a bullet nicked the wall where his leg had been.

"Dammit!" she screamed in frustration.

Two hours ago a call had come in from a young woman, she had spotted a man who fitted Jarod's description going into a motel. Unfortunately, at the time Lyle had been in the lab, so she'd had no excuse that she couldn't find him.

The twins rounded the corner into the alley, it was dead end and empty except for a couple of doors, a ladder going up to the roof, and two trash cans - one of which Miss Parker kicked over, the other Lyle shot.

"Dammit." Lyle yelled, his hopes of a shot Jarod falling out of the bin had been dashed.

Sydney arrived just after the second gun shot; he quickly surveyed the scene and found it lacking a shot Jarod. She noticed him let out a deep breath.

Lyle banged on the doors and re-holstered his gun; Miss Parker was surprised to find he looked remarkably happy considering the situation.

"He may have got away this time," he said, as though warning the world in general, "but next time we'll get him. Next time…" He pulled out his cell phone and rang for the car, leaving Miss Parker and Sydney alone, they turned to follow him when Miss Parker noticed movement in the corner of her eye. One of the doors was opening. She motioned Sydney to stop, and as he turned around Jarod's head became visible through the door jam.

"Jarod!" Sydney hissed, hurrying towards the young man.

Jarod smiled and motioned them inside.

Sydney cast the briefest of looks towards her, checking to see she hadn't drawn her weapon. She rolled her eyes at him and passed Jarod into the room.

"Your shot came pretty close," Jarod chided, after hugging Sydney hello.

"It could have been even closer," she replied with a grin.

Sydney put a stop to their banter, "What are you doing here Jarod!" he scolded.

Miss Parker took the opportunity to look around the small room. It was just as sparse as the warehouse, perhaps more so, a red notebook and laptop adorned the grimy desk that was standing haphazardly in the corner.

Jarod was about to start his explanation but Miss Parker beat him to it, "You didn't just run in here did you Jarod."

"No," Jarod admitted, "The girl who rang is a friend of mine."

"How are you getting around?" Sydney asked.

"Private plane, I've learnt that if you line people's pockets with enough Centre cash they look the other way."

Parker grinned broadly at the irony. "You still haven't told us why you're here."

He ignored her, "Are the DSA's safe."

Sydney looked at her curiously, "Why do you have the DSA's Parker?"

Jarod saved her from answering, "For safe keeping while the whole of America is on the look out for me."

"So what are you doing here Jarod." Miss Parker asked again. "What brings us here?"

Jarod smiled all-knowingly, "Tut tut, Miss Parker, no cheating."

"Cheating?" Sydney asked.

"You know the dance."

Miss Parker scowled at the pretender, "What, you tell me about my past, if I tell you about yours?"

Sydney, whose amusement in all this had steadily been rising, frowned. "Sometimes the two of you …" he trailed off but continued as he saw them glaring at each other. Now looking extremely exasperated.

"For once in your lives just stop the games!" he nearly yelled, and with that he embraced the shocked Jarod, and walked towards the exit, "I'll stall Lyle for a couple of minutes. Don't kill each other."

The door closed silently behind him.

Jarod and Parker stared at each other a full 10 seconds before coming to some sort of silent agreement.

Jarod started. "Do you know where my family is?"

"No."

"Did you know that Raines was my father?"

"Yes."

"Could you get information on my family?"

"No."

"Did you really give up your freedom to save me?"

There was a pause, and Miss Parker thought he might not answer. "Yes."

"Why did you destroy the information on my family?"

"It was fake, the information would have led you into a sweeper team."

"Is Lyle really my brother?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Do you know if Jarod is my real name?"

"No."

"How long did you have my Mother's diary?"

"Couple of days."

"Is it true that you promised to rescue my clone."

She paused this time, "Yes."

"How did you know that Raines was my father?"

"I ran your DNA against the Centre database."

"I did that."

"Yours didn't include Raines."

"Do you still have the gifts I've sent you?"

"Unless they were too extravagant, yes."

"Did you really ask about me after I left."

"I refused to work for a long time."

"Do you still have the rabbit?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever love any of the women you've left behind?"

Jarod looked around the room before answering, and when he did, he looked her right in the eye. "I didn't love them - I cared for them. Just, didn't love."

"Why have you never shot me?"

"You don't kill the goose that gives the golden eggs."

"Do you know whose child my baby brother is?"

"No. Though I do know he's not directly related to you."

"Do you love Sydney?"

Jarod's face became guarded, this time she knew he wouldn't answer. "He doesn't care for me."

She waved away his comment with a gesture. "You're an incredibly stupid genius, he has a box full of items you've given to him over the years, PEZ dispensers, cards, DSA's. He loves you."

"Cards?"

"A fathers day card."

"He kept it?" Jarod's voice was a whisper.

"Yes, talk to him about it later. It's your turn."

Jarod paused, as if getting ready for something, or perhaps he was still digesting this new information. "Why did you hate me?"

Miss Parker looked up sharply, the spell broken. She regarded him curiously for a long while before answering. "I've never hated you Jarod. I've been jealous, angry, hurt, confused, infuriated, cold, numb, happy, irked and drunk because of you - but in all of that I never once hated you." She smiled. "Though I've disliked you immensely, like when you stuck my $200 Gucci's to the floor."

Jarod smiled with her, "It was meant to be a metaphor."

Parker's cell phone started vibrating, buzzing against her hip.

"One last question Jarod."

He raised an eyebrow in reply, "Can I see Ethan sometime?"

The smile that adorned Jarod's face lit up the grimy room.

"I'll have him call you. At a decent hour."

She smiled in reply, trying to convey how thankful she was with her eyes.

"You better go."

Parker nodded her head and got up from the chair she'd been sitting on. She was nearly at the door before he spoke again.

"So we're just going to ignore what happened."

She spun on her heel so she was once again facing him. "Now is not the time to question the game, Jarod. Not with the rules changing," she said, a hint of bitterness was evident in her voice.

Jarod nodded his head. "I just …" he trailed off. "Go," he told her.

For once, she did as he said.


* * *



Miss Parker cornered Sydney in his hydroponics bay, she knew he'd been avoiding her, probably fearing her wrath for the previous day. She knew he wasn't afraid of her, not really, he just didn't want to be bothered fighting with her. As she entered the room, she heard him humming a tune in French as he tended to a Bonsai.

"Something you want Miss Parker?" The old physiatrist questioned.

She watched him trimming the edges of the small tree, slowly constructing the shape; it could take many more years of slow growing and trimming…

"Parker?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Why don't we go for lunch?"

"It's only 10:30 Parker."

"It will take us a while to get there."

Sydney shrugged, but didn't discourage her. "Of course."


* * *



It had been twenty minutes of driving and the conversation between the two colleagues had been mostly non-existent, only occasionally did they talk, once, for Sydney to ask Miss Parker to slow down. "You drive like a maniac." He informed her. "Never once had an accident," she replied. "Is that supposed to reassure me?" Sydney asked. "Yes." And that had been the conversation of the trip, though Sydney noticed that she had slowed down marginally.

The restaurant they ended up in wasn't far away after all; it was the restaurant that Parker had met an old flame in four years ago.

"I thought you said it was far," queried Sydney.

"Gives us longer to talk." Parker replied simply.

"About what?" Sydney asked; there was no denying his curiosity.

Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, "Jarod of course."

"Did you get your answers?"

Miss Parker didn't answer instead chose to look around the diner, they were almost the only patrons, except for a bunch of women having 'brunch' and a businessman.

"I got some answers," she answered slowly.

Sydney waited for the waitress to leave before continuing. "Anything useful?" He asked, seeing she wasn't exactly going to be forth coming.

"Lyle is my brother."

"Sorry."

"That's what Jarod said." Parker laughed mirthlessly. Sydney regarded her with obvious concern.

"Something else?"

"He kept my mothers diary for a couple of days, knew that Raines was my father, and wanted to know if I kept the rabbit he gave me."

"And how does that make you feel?" He was ever the physiatrist.

"Damn confused because I know he's been in my house."

The waitress was back with their drinks Sydney frowned when he noticed she was drinking tea.

"Ulcer bad today?" To his surprise, she shook her head. They sat in silence, Parker swirling her tea and adding sugar more than drinking it.

"Parker." She looked up from the third bag. "Why are we here?"

She took a deep breath, "Syd, I." She stopped again, shaking her head. She seemed to decide to abandon coherent sentences, just talking instead. "At my mothers funeral, you held my hand … you talked with me after … you taught me to dance … you stayed with me through all the hospital visits." The normally unbreakable Miss Parker was blinking back tears.

"When I was talking with Jarod he said he didn't know how you felt, I told him about the box."

Sydney sat up straighter, fright etched over his aging features.

"He said he'd have to talk with you. It got me thinking, if he didn't know then …" She took another breath. "Thank-you, for putting up with me."

The panic had gone, replaced with a broad smile. He leant across the table and took her hand.

"You are more than welcome, Melanie."

Miss Parker blinked, and then blinked again.

Her voice became a whisper, "How did-" "I know?" Sydney interrupted, "You told me, when you where very small, the first time I ever met you."

"I don't remember."

"Jacob and I were delivering some reports to you're father, he invited us to come in, you introduced yourself - once out of your fathers ear shot - as Miss Melanie Rose Parker." The young women stared down at her tea, now long cold, looking intently as he continued.

"Of course, that's when your father came back in and said you like to be called Miss Parker, and that one day you'd work in the Centre just like Mommy and Daddy."

Parker scooted around the half-circle booth so she was beside Sydney, she leant her head against his shoulder. "I don't think that Daddy - Mr Parker, can remember my first name, and there is no way in hell Raines is using it."

He was about to say something, but she quickly interrupted. "But I'd like it if you used it," she said quietly. He gave no reply; she pulled back slightly and knew she was surprised when she saw tears in his eyes.

"I'm so proud of you, Melanie," he told her, "Raines doesn't deserve you as a daughter."

Miss Parker smiled in agreement then looked away guiltily. "When Alex told me that Mr Parker wasn't my father, on some level I suspected you."

Sydney tried not to, but couldn't help the amused look that spread across his features as she continued. "I mean you were very close friends and all."

"I did love your mother," Sydney admitted. "As I love you."

"You love me?" she asked, her voice child like.

"Of course, you have many people who love you, Broots, Debbie, Sam cares very deeply for your welfare, Angelo and Jarod."

"And I love them," she admitted, "and you."

They smiled at each other for a moment, then, "Wait! Did you say Jarod?"

"Of course."

She gave him a his own amused look, "Yeah and Broots and I are an item."

He was about to reply, but she once again beat him to it, kissing him lightly on the cheek and muttering, "Quiet Freud."

They ended up staying for lunch, both enjoying this new level of friendship, on the way out the waitress told Sydney 'and your daughter' to have a nice day. Neither of them bothered to correct her.

Last Chance
Seeds of Destruction


It had been three months since Jarod had become an America’s most wanted star, and in that time they’d received almost 500 calls. Broots was excited by this, and wondered if they could get some sort of record. Miss Parker considered this high on her ‘list of worst things to happen to me’. Calls were coming in from all over the country, people seeing Jarod everywhere, as of such they ended up with having Miss Parker and Sydney in one jet, while Lyle and Willie took the other.

The worst parts, Miss Parker reflected, were the chronic jet lag (which day of the week is it?) and having to talk to the people who rang in. The best one she’d come across swore she saw Jarod at ‘that gas station talkin' to Elvis.’ Miss Parker hadn’t commented, what could you say, really? Though she now had Broots asking the nuts what they saw Jarod doing. Thus far the award winners had been ‘taking a piss,’ ‘sifting through my trash’ and ‘napping on a park bench’. It had saved them about 10 trips, and given Lyle something useful to do.

Sam had to drop her off at her house, he'd sat, watching in amusement while she tried to open the door with her car key. After she reached for her gun, he quickly got out of the car and moved to help her. “Thank-you Sam,” she said, and went inside. Her silver briefcase was dropped on the table she could locate, even in the dark. From in the living room a light switched on. Miss Parker resisted both the urge to roll her eyes and draw her gun.

Entering the illuminated room and ignoring the occupant, she headed for the liquor cabinet to pour herself a nightcap. Without turning around, she knew the armchair was occupied and the prospect of spending a night on the couch was unpleasant so she pulled off her heels and started for her room.

The bet as to whether he'd follow her was answered five minutes later when he sat down on the end of the bed. If he'd been 30 seconds earlier he would have seen her slipping on her nightgown.

“Something you want, Jarod?” she asked, opening one eye.

He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. “Men,” she muttered.

“No. I am here for a reason, I need to know where the DSA’s are.” His tone was all business.

“I put them in Mama’s studio.” No one ever went in there, the room even had a fine layer of dust. If Mr Parker had ever ordered her house swept he’d no doubt tell them to avoid the room with the locked door.

Jarod nodded his head. “If you could leave it in on the coffee table I’ll pick it up.”

He wouldn’t even think of going in there by himself, he knew what it meant to her she realised.

She nodded and he got up to leave. She thought about asking him to stay for a moment but thought better of it. “Go see Sydney.” It had been extremely difficult to get through to either one of them recently. Cell phones couldn’t be used on the Centre jets and their phone lines had no doubt been tapped.

Jarod nodded and left.

The next morning she felt even worse than when she'd gone to bed, her legs ached, her eyes were tired and she had a splitting headache. Along with various other aches and pains.

Sam arrived at 8:00, though he didn’t beep the horn or go to the door she knew he was there. Sydney would no doubt claim it was her inner sense - she called it being punctual. She hadn’t left the DSA’s on the table like she’d said; instead hanging from a silver chain was a key. Jarod would understand.

Miss Parker got into the back of the car; Sydney had already been picked up. She greeted both men and promptly tried to fall asleep. Wishing idly that Jarod would hurry up and say his ‘final goodbye’.

Pointless, the entire day could be summed up in that single word. Lyle got pissed off at Broots for the sudden lack of Jarod sightings - he seemed to have wizened up about the calls he was getting. So to avoid his wrath all day Miss Parker sat in her office, listening to reports on the various people that Jarod could be taking shelter with and the various places he could be. Her name and Blue Cove weren’t on the list which amused her slightly. That night she left at 5 pm, instead of the normal 7 and 8, with Sydney and Sam, and pondered with them why she’d bothered getting out of bed.

The answer came on the Six o’ clock news.

“--tales of kidnapping, attempted murder, conspiracy, child abuse, murder and crimes against humanity.”

Miss Parker had been ordering take-out when she heard from the other room, the phone lay dangling off the wall as she followed the reporters voice.

“Video evidence has been given to this news station earlier today, now we have to warn you the footage you are about to see may disturb some viewers.”

The announcer disappeared, replaced with footage from DSAs: Jarod when he’d just been brought in, still asking for his mom and dad. The images changed and became Jarod slightly older, his first ever pretend, the Hindenburg. Jarod crying into Sydney’s shoulder became Jarod in the heat case, then Jarod in Apollo 9. The images kept changing and Miss Parker just gaped. He had actually sent it to the media.

The announcer reappeared, “That was just some of the evidence given to us, each one is dated as you may have seen in the bottom left of your screen below the ‘For Centre Use Only’ and next to the subjects name, ‘Jarod’. From what we can tell this child – now a man – Jarod was imprisoned for at least 30 years.”

The other announcer took over. “Just recently, in the last hour, we have received new information on the location of this ‘Centre’ and have handed this over to the proper authorities.”

Miss Parker leaned across the couch, grasping for her cell-phone (her other phone was still off the hook) while trying not to take her eyes off the screen. Speed dial 3 was hit and rang.

“This is Sydney.”

“Syd, channel 9 now!”

She heard his shuffling and then, “Oh my god!”

“I think Jarod’s saying goodbye.”

She clicked off the phone.

“--Some of you may recognise this Jarod from the later footage as he had recently appeared on ‘America’s most wanted’. Now this is not to count against him just yet as the note and testimonial of many others confirms this story.”

The images changed from the newsroom to what looked like some part of Vegas.

“This is Argyle, who says he has had dealings with both The Centre and Jarod.”

“Yeah, that’s Argyle A-r-g-y-l-e, and yes the Centre tried to kill me, Jarod saved my life.”

“Why did they try to kill you?” The reporter asked.

“Well Jarod was helping this little girl and ended up in a tight situation which I tried to help him out of, and they stuffed me in the trunk, they were going to kill me.”

“And Jarod’s helped you since then too?”

“Yeah, he helped me out of my own tight spot a year later, and saved me and my fiancée.”

The report continued, showing various people who told of how wonderful Jarod was, what he’d done for them. Finally, after almost six people (including one red head with a tale of a thumb less man kidnapping her) the ordinary news reports came on.

She grabbed her keys and mobile and was backing out of her drive way in record time. Her phone rang when she was less then 10 minutes away.

“Parker.”

“Have you been watching the news, Miss Parker?” Broots asked.

“Along with the rest of the country. Look Broots, I’m headed to the Centre I have to get to my brother. Now listen carefully, I want you to take Debbie and go, somewhere, anywhere. Just go.”

“Leave the Centre?” His voice squeaked.

“Yes. Do it now,” she ordered and could almost see him debating the idea over in his head.

“I … be careful Miss Parker.”

He hung up.

The car park was in chaos, people arriving and trying to get in, Parker decided that in the middle of the road was a fine place to park and ran the remaining distance to the lobby.

It was havoc in there too. Sweepers running around, secretaries trying to gather as many files as possible, Cleaners trailing after the secretaries and in amongst it all was Lyle. He looked positively ill.

“I want every file, every disk, every scrap of evidence that we can use against them. They may take us down but I’ll be damned if they’re not going down with us.”

At his order, three sweepers ran off and she ran towards him.

“What are you doing!?” she yelled above the dim.

“Protecting The Centre! What are you doing?”

“Protecting myself.”

“Good,” he turned towards the remaining sweepers, “Lock down as many sub-levels as you can.”

They to left; there was only Cox, Lyle and herself remaining.

Lyle glanced around before talking to Cox, he needn’t bother, she could hardly hear herself think, there was no possibility of someone eavesdropping on them.

“Go down to SL-27, I need it destroyed, everything gone.”

Cox nodded his understanding and left, motioning for a couple of men who were standing around to follow.

“If I were you, I’d get myself out of here, the feds’ will be here in less than an hour.”

She searched his face, looking for any sign of deception or trickery. Finding none she wondered, just for a moment what she’d missed in not having him as a brother. She decided it was the adrenaline.

“I just need to get some things,” she didn’t know why she was telling him this.

“I’ve already sent out someone to look for cousin … Angelo.”

“Thank-you.”

The only elevator available just happened to be the elevator she liked least, though she now knew that her mother hadn’t really died here it was still a symbol of lies and deception. But most of all it was a warning, they kept this elevator for her.

Angelo’s space was first, she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find him, if Lyle was right (which she privately knew he was) then they’d only put Angelo in a cell, not a jail cell but worse, he’d be poked and prodded and then after he died, dissected.

The elevator doors opened and there stood Angelo, holding a box filled to the brim with Cracker Jack’s.

“Daughter free,” he muttered happily, removing one of the boxes and ripping it open.

“Angelo free,” she replied.

He hummed quietly and said “Tasty,” she supposed that it was a thank-you.

Next stop, nursery. Along the way they stopped at various sub-levels, people anxiously waiting to get in, they weren’t so anxious when she showed them her gun.

“Wait here, Angelo, keep these elevator doors open.”

She rushed along, hearing her baby brother’s fitful cries for attention. Baby’s are perceptive to the mood of their caregivers and her brother almost doubly so. Entering the room with her gun drawn she found no one, not even the nurse who was suppose to be looking after him around the clock. She's not going to be getting a reference, Parker thought wildly, but that didn’t matter now. Miss Parker scooped up the crying child, who immediately stopped wailing, grabbed a blanket and a carrier and was back in the elevator.

“Baby,” Angelo cooed, he was eating more cracker jacks and underneath the piles of boxes, she noticed a flash of silver.

“Surprise,” Angelo said, noticing where she was looking.

She smiled. Angelo may not know all the secrets and lies but he knew where to find them.

The elevator arrived at the lobby, the doors slowly opening, Miss Parker was just about to get out when Angelo pulled her back, “No, not that way.” He pushed the door-closing button and pushed down to SL-10. “Secret way.”

“Angelo I can’t crawl through air ducts with a baby.”

Angelo smiled reassuringly.

They arrived on SL-10 and went towards the Sim-lab, Miss Parker clutching the baby and Angelo holding his box. As soon as they got in Angelo dashed off towards Sydney’s office he was back a few minutes later carrying a metal box. “Sydney’s treasures,” he explained. He dropped the box on top of his own possessions and hurried to a darkened corner, what ever he did, a small entrance appeared near the door. “Hurry,” Angelo said going through the passage.

“What is this Angelo?”

“Just in case."

“In case of what?”

Angelo didn’t reply. The three of them continued along the ancient corridor, Angelo in front, as he seemed to know where he was going.

“Is this the way that Jarod escaped?”

Angelo shook his head ahead of her.

Miss Parker shrugged and continued following. Somewhere in the distance she could hear shouts, screams and the occasional shot, probably Lyle going down in a hail of gunfire, she thought.

Eventually they reached the end of the tunnel. Miss Parker looked around in frustration. “There’s nothing here Angelo!”

Angelo pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started dialling, when he was apparently finished he handed it back to her and starting examining the brick wall they’d run into.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Miss Parker?” Jarod’s voice drifted across.

“Jarod?”

“Where are you? I’m at your house but you’re not here.”

“I’m in the Centre, I had to get Angelo and my little brother.”

Jarod cursed, “I thought that Angelo would get himself out. He did last time.”

“Last time he was on medication,” Miss Parker reminded him.

“Where are you, I’ll come and get you.”

“I’m in a passage way, Angelo led me here, it’s off from the Sim-lab.”

“The Sim-Lab on SL-10,” Jarod asked.

“Yes.”

“At the end of the tunnel there’s what looks like a brick wall?”

“Yes, it most defiantly looks like a wall.”

Jarod ignored her, “There’s nothing holding the bricks together, I removed the masonry when I was young, you can kick or push them through.”

She put down the phone and did as he said, sure enough the brinks toppled loudly on to the floor.

“Now you’re in the Centre’s original air ducts - before they upgraded them to make them nuclear explosion proof. Take the next left, then right, then continue straight on and you should find a ladder, it leads straight up to the roof.”

“And just how are we going to get Angelo, a box full of DSAs and a baby in a carrier up that?”

“Don’t worry, just be at the bottom.”

He hung up which annoyed Miss Parker even more. Nevertheless, she followed his instructions, glad that these air ducts were large enough to walk or at least crouch in.

They arrived at the bottom of the shaft, sure enough it went straight up, Miss Parker had no idea how Jarod was going to manage this one. She kept her brother occupied by playing with a toy from the Cracker Jacks, and kept herself occupied by thinking of names for her brother.

Her phone rang again, echoing all the way up the tunnel.

“Yes.”

“I thought it’d be too much for you to answer with hello twice.”

“How are we getting up Jarod?”

“You’re not,” said a voice from behind her.

“Jarod!”

He put the phone away and stepped out of the shadows. She took notice of the scratches and blood on his face.”

“What happened?”

“A couple of sweepers thought that they would give me one last beating. Willie’s idea most likely.”

“What happened to getting up?”

“There are already three helicopters up there, taking away all the tower members they can.”

“How did you get in?”

“Walked through the front door,” he said nonchalantly.

Miss Parker rolled her eyes. “How are we going to get out?”

“Same way.”

He turned and said hello to Angelo who looked extremely pleased to see him and offered him candy.

“Later,” Jarod promised and picked up Angelo’s box.

Jarod led them back the way he came, eventually stopping at a metal cover. He kicked it open and offered her a hand. “Now,” he said, “you’re a social worker, the baby and Angelo were found in a nursery down in the sub-levels.”

Miss Parker nodded and tightened her grip on the carrier; Jarod hit the call button for a nearby service elevator. It arrived a minute later and they piled in, Angelo at the back holding on to Miss Parkers free arm.

The doors opened to the lobby, it was still full of secretaries, sweepers, operatives and cleaners and now also full of federal agents, CIA and local police. Jarod adjusted the badge he'd got from somewhere so it showed obviously. They exited the elevator, making a straight line for the exit, Jarod blending in completely, looking around, checking on the occasional bond, no one looked twice at them.

The guards at the door did question them. They examined Jarod’s identification for a long while and asked him about the blood as another questioned Miss Parker.

“My papers? Identification?” She hissed at the man who’d been gutsy enough to question her.

“I’m at the police station filling out some forms on the latest neglected kid when suddenly a call comes in about this freaky place on the hill, chief says we need a social worker and lucky me, I’m heading out the door. Thus here I am, with this kid and what I assume is his father because I found him in the nursery. So if you want to take this screaming baby and his father - who has already bitten two other guards - be my guest.”

The agent very wisely backed off.

“Thank you,” Miss Parker said as she strode away.

“My car is over here. Yours is probably still being tracked.” Jarod said, leading them to an expensive convertible.

“Typical,” she muttered and began strapping her brother into the back car seat.

Jarod smiled and did the same with Angelo.

Jarod entered her hotel room looking rather annoyed, Miss Parker was playing with Jeremy on the floor, even though she insisted she wasn’t any good with children the little boy seemed to adore her.

“Tasty?” Jeremy gargled.

“No sweetie, no sweets and Jarod is in lots of trouble for giving it to you.”

Jarod smiled as the small boy screwed up his little face into a sort of pout.

“Jarod?”

The pretender smiled again and came to sit down beside them, tickling Jeremy on the stomach.

“Did you get the results?” she asked.

Jarod nodded.

“And…?”

“He is your brother,” Jarod said.

Miss Parker breathed a sigh of relief.

“And mine,” he continued.

“What!”

“The best I can guess is that Mr Parker didn’t know that Ethan was alive, he needed another project to gain leverage, so he did it again. Your mother's egg, my father's sperm.”

They both sat and looked at their little brother, who was completely unaware of the fact his biological mother had been dead for two decades, and his father was old enough to have grandchildren. “Sick,” she finally said.

Jarod nodded his agreement.

“Oh,” Jarod suddenly said and got up. A second later he was back with the remote and smiling when Miss Parker looked at him quizzically.

The television flickered on, Jarod rapidly changed channels until he had apparently found what he’d been looking for.

“Before we show you tonight’s program we’d like to rectify some points in a bulletin you may have seen a few weeks ago, in light of the recent raid on The Centre, we here at America’s most wanted need to apologise for being mislead and misleading the public on the case of one Jarod Charles.”

Miss Parker tuned out - she knew what the rest would say - and looked at Jarod. The relief on his face was obvious and there was also something else, he was calm, not something he normally was around her.

They watched for a few more minutes, Jeremy had fallen asleep.

“What are we going to do with him,” Miss Parker whispered.

The look of anger and frustration returned to Jarod’s face, “I don’t know, I think my father is a bit old to look after a baby.”

“I’m going to stay with him,” she said determinedly.

Jarod picked up the child, carrying him into the hotel’s second bedroom (Angelo was staying with Sydney down the hall) and placing him in the crib.

He returned to the other room and sat down beside her again, this time looking very nervous, she gave him another quizzical look.

He took a breath and after opening and shutting his mouth soundlessly a few times, managed out: “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, that morning.”

Miss Parker grinned strangely, “I knew you wouldn’t be, it would have been too dangerous, you were afraid I’d shoot you and besides, it’s not like I’m the first you’ve left in the morning.”

“If I could go back-” Jarod started. “But you can’t. Look it doesn’t matter now, we’ve got all the secrets, The Centre has been held accountable, Lyle, Raines and Mr Parker all got what they deserve, it all worked out.”

Jarod nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head, “Not quite everything,” he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow, noticing him moving towards her.

“I didn’t get to wake up with you.”