Mysterious Connections
Prologue

The man walked, bareheaded, along the street, looking at, without really seeing, the houses on either side. He seemed unaware of the rain that had begun to fall that morning, initially just a light shower, but which had increased to its current downpour and was keeping most people inside. Eventually, the man drew level with a building, his eyes lighting up at the sight. Slowly, he crossed the empty street towards it, approaching the few stairs that led up to the door and ascending them. He opened the front door and walked through it, closing it carefully after him. Without hesitation, he climbed the stairs, looking neither to the left or right, appearing to know his destination. On the second floor, he stopped outside a specific door and raised his hand.

***

Jarod sat down in front of his laptop with a satisfied smile, picking up a PEZ dispenser that sat on the table and eating a piece of candy from it. Taking the newspaper with a satisfied feeling, he reread the headline, the result of his latest pretend, and cut out the article. Pulling the red notebook out of his jacket, he put it on the table, preparing to stick the article inside. Even as he reached for the tape, however, he heard a knock on the door.

"Just a sec, Henry."

Slipping the book back into his pocket, Jarod got up and walked over to the door, expecting to find his neighbor there. Opening it, the sight of the man on the doorstep made Jarod freeze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. As he was about to slam the door shut and run, however, he saw the lack of recognition on the face of the man standing in front of him, his horror fading instantly into concern.

"Sydney?"

The man never reacted to the sound of his name, his eyes fixed blankly at a point on Jarod's chest, and the Pretender waved a hand in front of his face.

"Sydney!"

He spoke sharply, but it brought no response. Looking closely, Jarod saw that the jacketless man was soaking wet, his shirt clinging to his skin. Even as he noticed this, Sydney swayed, and Jarod quickly reached out to put a supportive hand on his shoulder, having to change his movement abruptly as the man in front of him suddenly lost consciousness.

***

"Sydney?"

Miss Parker pushed against the door, but it didn't open, and, wearing a frown, she turned on her heel and strode to the elevator, riding it up to SL-5, on which level the Tech Room was situated. The object of her search was standing just outside the elevator as the doors opened and she grabbed his arm. He turned in surprise.

"Miss Parker, is something wrong?"

"Broots, have you seen Sydney this morning?"

The technician shook his head. "I haven't seen him since he left the Centre last night. Isn't he here?"

"No." Miss Parker's frown deepened. "And I can't remember the last time that he took the day off. Can you?"

"Now that you come to mention it," Broots walked alongside Miss Parker as they hurried down the hall, "no, I can't."

The woman pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number. For several moments, she let it ring, before impatiently cutting off the connection and putting in another number. To this, she received a response.

"This is Parker. Has Sydney signed in this morning? No?"

Nodding, she ended the call and glanced over at Broots. "No answer at his house either."

"He couldn't be sick, could he?"

She turned, heading back to the elevators. "Only one way to find out."

***

Jarod managed to prevent Sydney's head from hitting the floor but couldn't stop the man from collapsing to the ground. Even as he bent over the older man, a sound made him look up and a head poked itself around the neighboring door.

"What's going on, Jarod?"

"Henry, give me a hand here."

The man came and knelt beside the figure on the floor. "What happened?"

"No idea." Jarod shrugged, his eyes filled with concern. "He didn't know who I was or even his own name. Then he passed out."

"You know him?"

"You could say that." Jarod looked up again. "Help me get him inside."

Together the two men carried Sydney into the apartment and put him on the only bed. As his friend eased off the older man's shoes, Jarod checked Sydney's vital signs.

"It feels like he's got a fever, but after being out in the rain, I'm not really all that surprised." He looked up. "Could you bring my bag and then see if you can find a few more blankets? I don't have many here."

"I can lend you some. I'll be right back."

Nodding, Jarod turned back to the man on the bed, missing the fact that Henry paused briefly in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face, before he left.

"Sydney?" Jarod gently patted the man's face, trying to rouse him. "Sydney, it's me. It's Jarod. Come on, wake up."

There was no response and Jarod quickly checked the man over again, trying to find a reason for his current condition. Gently unbuttoning the wet shirt, he then carefully turned the man on his side, both to take off the soaking material and also to ease the bedclothes out from under the unconscious form. As he finished this, Henry returned with several blankets that he placed over the radiator before carrying the big medical bag over to the bed.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Jarod put two fingers on the older man's neck, feeling the blood pulsing quickly under the hot skin. "But it's serious. I’d guess an infection or a virus of some sort."

"A fully trained doctor and that's all you can tell?"

Jarod bit back the reply that sprang to his lips and glanced briefly at the man who was leaning against the wall. "Thanks, Henry."

"Call me if you need me." Sensing his dismissal, the man left the room, and, several seconds later, the door of Jarod's apartment shut. Ignoring this, the Pretender turned his attention back to the unconscious man in front of him.

"Sydney, wake up, please!" Jarod placed his hands into Sydney's. "If you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand."

When there was no response, Jarod released his grip and reached into the bag, pulling out a thermometer. Gently he slipped it under the older man's arm and, as he waited for a reading, performed a more thorough examination. There was no sign of an injury that could account for the lack of consciousness, and Jarod was starting to wonder if it was a severe chill when he caught sight of the socks that Sydney was still wearing.

A gentle touch revealed that they were still dry and he knew that, if the older man been out in the rain for long enough to have caused a total lack of consciousness, they would have to be as wet as the trousers that he now took off, before gently pulling the blankets over the man. A quick look at the thermometer showed the high temperature Jarod had been expecting and he concentrated once more on trying to wake the psychiatrist.

"Sydney? Come on, open your eyes for me."

Having not really expected a response, it was a shock when the man did exactly that, the lids slowly lifting.

"Sydney?"

Now, finally, there was a light of recognition in the eyes that slowly turned to him.

"Sydney, can you hear me?"

Jarod leaned over the bed, feeling the man's clammy skin under his fingers. "I don't want you to talk. If you can hear me, just try and squeeze my hand."

There was a slight tightening of the muscles and Jarod smiled. "Good. We'll take that as the sign for 'yes', okay?"

After receiving the reaction that he was waiting for, Jarod spoke again. "Can you remember what happened?"

When there was no reaction Jarod nodded slowly. "Tell me, were you feeling sick yesterday?"

There was a slight tensing of the hand and a look of doubt on the older man's face, his brow furrowing, and Jarod nodded again.

"So you can't really remember?"

Slowly Sydney nodded, his blinking becoming more erratic as he fought to stay focused, and the Pretender placed his free hand on the man's shoulder.

"Okay, just relax. I'll take care of you. Don't worry."

There was a slight tightening of the hand in his as the older man closed his eyes, and Jarod smiled faintly before taking the first of the rugs off the radiator and, as he raised the blankets, wrapped it around the older man's body, covering him again rapidly.

***

Miss Parker slowly made her way back to her office, halting outside the door and looking over at Broots, but he spoke first.

"So, what now?"

She shrugged. "I don't really..."

The ringing of her cell phone cut her off and she activated it quickly.

"Sydney, is that you?"

"No, it's me. I need..."

"Jarod, not right now."

"Parker, you're obviously as worried about Sydney as I am, but for a very different reason, so can you just answer my questions for once?"

Hearing the sharp tones in his voice, she pushed open the door of her office and walked in, waving at Broots to follow.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Start up your computer and I'll show you."

Miss Parker clicked her fingers in the direction of the machine and Broots hurried to turn it on.

"What is it?" she demanded impatiently as the start-up process began.

"Was he sick yesterday?"

"Is he...?"
"Answer the question, Parker!" the man on the other end demanded impatiently.

"I don't know. He didn't say anything about feeling unwell."

As soon as the program was active, she obeyed the instructions Jarod gave her and stared at him when he appeared on the screen, disconnecting the cell-phone and putting it down on her desk. "What happened?"

"He appeared outside my door and collapsed in front of my eyes." Jarod turned the camera to let her see the figure in the bed. "He's got a fever, but that's all I can tell right now. I'm going to run some tests but I wanted to see what you could tell me first."

"And… is he...?"

"He was conscious and lucid about twenty minutes ago, but he can't remember much. Nor, at this stage, could he tell me much." He paused for a moment. "I'll call you when I know what it is."

Cutting the connection, he sat in the chair for several minutes longer before he got up. Going into the kitchenette of his apartment, Jarod put the kettle on the stove and pulled out his most recent discovery - a hot water bottle. Henry, his English neighbor, and the victim for whom he had completed the pretend, had shown his to Jarod, and the pretender was now very thankful that he had accepted one as a gift, seeing Sydney shiver as he lay in the bed. Once the kettle had boiled, Jarod filled the item and replaced the stopper, wrapping the bottle in one of his t-shirts and then slipping it into the bed beside the semi-conscious man. Reaching into the bag, he took out a syringe and fixed a glass tube to it. Next Jarod gently shook Sydney, smiling as the man opened his eyes and, with some difficulty, was able to focus on him.

"Hi, Sydney. I need to take some blood so that we can make sure you don't have an infection, okay?"

As the man slowly nodded, closing his eyes again, Jarod gently lifted a hand and, with a small amount of pressure, raised an artery. The collection of blood took a few minutes, and Sydney had drowsed off by the time Jarod taped down the cotton wool. He stood beside the bed for a moment longer, lips pursed in thought, before taking the other blankets from where they were heating and gently wrapping the first of them around the sleeping man.

***

The preparation of the samples was rapidly completed and Jarod peered at them through the microscope that he had set up on the table. After a moment, he sat back in his chair, frowning again. A sudden sound caught his attention and he eyed the man on the bed before standing up and going over to him, taking a stethoscope from the bag. Within a short time, he’d heard more than enough for an accurate diagnosis. Jarod stepped away from the bed and began to pace the room. The call he had just made to the Centre meant that he couldn't take Sydney to hospital, even for x-rays. He would have to treat him here in the apartment, getting whatever medication he could, and hoping that it would be enough. Jarod turned his eyes to the man in the bed and straightened his shoulders. He had never yet failed in a pretend in the world and now, with this one, he certainly couldn't afford to.

Mysterious Connections
Part 1

The Pretender looked down at the list lying on the table in front of him, things that he urgently required, but he was unwilling to leave Sydney alone.

"Jarod?"

The man looked up to see his neighbor in the doorway. Henry raised an eyebrow as he entered the apartment.

"How's he doing?"

"Badly." Jarod paused. “And there's a whole bunch of stuff he really needs and I don't have."

"So go and get it. I'll stay here, make sure he doesn't wander off."

"Sure?"

"Of course. Hey, I owe you one, big time. If I can help to repay it, even a little, by giving you a hand..."

"You're the best, Henry." Jarod got to his feet. "I'll try not to be long. I doubt that he'll wake up, but if he does..."

"I cared for my dad when he had problems. I'm sure I can manage."

Slipping his jacket over his shoulders, Jarod smiled at his friend, cast one final look in through the bedroom door, and left the apartment.

***

"What is it?" the woman demanded when she answered the phone.

"Pneumonia."

Miss Parker dropped limply into the chair and stared at the speaker of her phone. "And that's serious, right?"

There was a second of silence on the other end. "It could be."

She slammed one fist down on the desk. "Dammit, Jarod! What do you mean 'It could be'? Is it or isn't it?"

"If it were you or me, probably not too serious. In someone of Sydney's age, it heightens the risks. Also it depends what type of pneumonia he's got."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

In the background, she could hear a car's engine stop as Jarod answered. "I'm going to treat it. What else would I do, Parker?"

There was a hint of frustration in his voice that she picked up on immediately and it made her decide not to ask the next question that she had thought of. After several seconds of silence, however, he answered it anyway.

"Yes, Parker, he might die. But I'm going to be fighting it every step of the way."

The sound of the dial tone filled the otherwise silent office.

***

"How's he doing?"

Henry glanced up to see Jarod in the doorway. "Not...bad," he responded reluctantly.

The Pretender nodded slowly and walked over to put the various bags down onto the table.

"Did you empty the shop?" the other man queried with a laugh.

Jarod grinned faintly. "Well, they might need to restock." He glanced into the bedroom and then back. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Name it."

"I want you to build something for me."

"Like a spare room?" Henry suggested with a grin.

"Not quite that extravagant." Jarod half-smiled, pulled a lined pad over and took the pen out of his pocket. He drew something on the piece of paper before giving it to the carpenter. "I want to be able to raise the bed head."

Henry eyed the picture for a moment. "Are you sure you're a doctor and not really a builder in disguise?"

"If I wasn't a doctor, would I have been able to get all of this?"

Jarod indicated the tabletop, almost invisible under the items it was holding, making sure that his smile remained hidden.

"Good point." Henry stood up. "I'll get right on it." He grinned. "Just be thankful all the rooms in this building are virtually soundproof, or you'd be able to hear its construction."

Jarod's lips narrowed. "You'll be thankful for that later too, I'm guessing."

***

Sydney felt the pressure of something on his face and, with an effort, began to lift one hand to push it away, but felt his fingers gently held. He forced open his eyelids, struggling to focus on the man standing beside him.

"No, Sydney. Leave it. The oxygen will help you to breath."

Feeling the weight of something on his finger, Sydney tried to see what it was, but now found himself unable to move. Understanding, Jarod lifted the hand into Sydney's line of vision.

"It's a pulse oximeter." He lowered the hand, tucking it under the blanket. "Just try to rest. You know I'm going to take care of you."

Smiling faintly, Sydney let his eyelids fall, but the pain in his chest made it hard to relax. It felt like iron bands were squeezing him and Sydney struggled to remember when he had had this before, knowing that he had, at some point in time, been sick with this. Slowly, however, even as he tried to fight against the pain, a feeling of warmth entered his body and the difficulty of breathing became easier. Sydney tried to open his eyes, but now found that he wasn't able to, and could only faintly hear the words that were spoken in his ear.

"It's all right, Sydney. This will help, I promise."

Jarod pulled the syringe out of the plastic tube and recapped it, watching the man narrowly as the sedative began to work and he finally fell asleep. Dropping the used needle in a box that he had set on the bedside table for that purpose, Jarod checked that the humidifier working effectively before leaving the room.

***

"Miss Parker."

The woman looked up as the technician crept softly into her office and was about to snap out a response when she saw the look on his face, lowering her voice in response.

"What is it?"

"It's... I know where Jarod and Sydney are."

She stared at him. "How?"

"I tracked the video call. He made it direct, without sending it through a lot of other computers, and I found the address." Broots held out a piece of paper and watched as she slowly took it. Suddenly she looked at him.

"Does anybody else know about this?"

He shook his head. "I actually rerouted the call to a different address, just in case somebody else found out about it."

"Why?" Her voice was sharp as she stared at him.

"Well, I know that you're worried about Sydney too, like me, and I didn't think you want Jarod dragged back to the Centre before he cured him, so I thought it'd be better if maybe we went there, leaving Lyle behind to follow a few false leads, so I set some up."

For several seconds she continued to stare at him before suddenly standing and, before he could quite work out what she was going to do, hugging him. As she let him go, Broots put his hand on the desk to steady himself, trying to cope with what she had done, even as her voice became suddenly sharp.

"Good work, Broots. Are you ready to leave?"

"Leave for where, sis?"

They both turned at a loud voice in the doorway and, despite having seen him a few seconds earlier and spoken loudly to draw his attention, Miss Parker now hesitated. A smile curled the corner of her mouth, although she managed to hide it, as she watched Broots step forward.

"M... Mr. Lyle, sir, I think I know where Jarod might be." He pulled another sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out, the page trembling a little. Lyle snatched it out of his hand.

"And what's that?"

Even as he glanced over the address, Lyle nodded at the page that his twin sister held before glaring at the technician.

"I...It's a second possibility. I found them both."

"And which one's more likely?"

"That one." Broots' tone was reluctant as he nodded at the sheet in Lyle's hand, watching the other man smirk.

"Then I guess that my dear sister won't mind if I take a few sweepers along to check this little hideout while the three of you take that one."

Broots struggled not to grin and took a hesitant step backwards, watching out of the corner of his eye as Miss Parker nodded.

"I guess we can't be too careful. All right, Lyle." She turned back to grab her coat, watching as her brother spun around, hurrying from the room. "He didn't even look," she murmured quietly into the technician's ear.

"Even if he had," Broots responded equally softly, "I didn't write the correct address down, just in case. There's a few things mixed up and, in a city as big as that one, it may have taken him forever to find the right place."

She looked down at him admiringly. "We could have used you thinking like this more often."

He shrugged, hiding another triumphant grin, as they left the room.

***

Jarod opened the door as he heard the quiet knock, looking approvingly at the wooden object as he let Henry into the apartment.

"Want me to show you how it works,” his friend teased. “Or can you guess?"

"Hey, come on." Jarod tried to hide a smile. "I'm a doctor, remember?"

"So you say."

For a moment, Jarod hesitated before finally meeting the eye of the other man, recognizing a familiar expression on his face. Suddenly, despite the tension he felt, the man grinned.

"Okay, he told you about me, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did, Mr. Pretender, sir." The man glanced into the bedroom. "And he told me about Sydney, too."

"Fine. I'd just be a lot happier if you'd keep it to yourself."

"Don't worry, Jarod." Henry spoke seriously. "Your secret's safe with me, I promise."

"Thanks." He looked down at the object in front of him. "Give me a hand putting it into place?"

"Sure thing."

The two men walked into the room and Jarod moved some of the equipment out of the way as Henry looked around. "You're really set up here, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately, it's necessary."

He slipped an arm under the mattress, raising it slightly so Henry could slide the flat object in to place.

"Either we did that really smoothly," Henry began as he looked down at the man on the bed, who hadn’t moved. "Or..."

"Yes, I gave him something to make him sleep. Now, are you going to show me the way this invention of yours works, or not?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Some genius."

***

Jarod raised the head of the bed to an angle of almost thirty degrees, glancing over in time to see Henry quietly lugging a camp bed into the room.

"What on earth...?"

"Well, where were you going to sleep tonight?"

"On the floor." Jarod shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"And you'll end up just as sick as Sydney." Henry grinned at him. "Stop being a stubborn fool, like he told me you could be, and use it, will you?"

The Pretender tried to look indignant. "Stubborn, am I?"

"I'm not the only one who thinks so." Henry nodded towards the bed, where the sick man was watching them, a hint of a smile on his face. Jarod stepped over.

"Sydney, this is Henry, a friend of mine. He's helping me to take care of you."

"Hi, Sydney,” Henry smiled. “I've heard a lot about you."

The older man opened his mouth to respond, but Jarod placed a gentle hand on his arm. "No, Sydney. I don't want you to talk yet. Just try and rest."

As his patient nodded slightly, closing his eyes, Jarod helped Henry set up the bed. When it was finished, he glanced at his watch.

"Expecting someone?"

Jarod followed Henry out of the room, pulling the door almost shut before turning to his friend.

"Possibly. It depends."

"On?"

"On how quick they are today. But I'd guess..."

As Jarod turned to the kitchen, the knock on the door interrupted his sentence.

"It's open. Come in."

He turned to see two people in the doorway and leaned against the table, an annoyed look on his face.

"Put the damned gun away, Parker. I didn't make it easy for you both to find me, to disappear the moment you did. You won't need to point a weapon in my face to make me stay here this time."

"Old habits die hard," she admitted with a shrug.

"You haven't caught me often enough for it to be a habit yet." He tried to grin. "And if it's not too much trouble, could you shut the door? I am trying to keep this place warm."

Miss Parker returned the gun to her holster and stepped into the room as Broots closed the door.

"Who's that?"

She nodded at Henry, who turned to face the woman, eyes twinkling and a smile curling the corners of his mouth, making dimples appear in his cheeks. He remained silent while Jarod made the introduction.

"A friend of mine, Parker. And, possibly, yours too."

Henry held out one hand. "Miss Parker, it's good to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

The woman glanced at his face, but found her gaze locked into two eyes so familiar that her knees felt as if they were about to give.

Noticing, Jarod spoke in teasing tones. "Uh, Parker, can you avoid collapsing on the ground in front of me? I had enough of that when Sydney did it."

"Who...?"

"My name's Henry, Miss Parker,” the stranger explained. “I was Thomas' cousin."

***

Jarod stepped into the bedroom, followed by the technician, and both men stood silently in the doorway, watching the sick man as he slept.

"Is he going to...?"

"I don't know. I hope not." Jarod looked at the readout from the machine attached to Sydney's finger. "He seems a little better, though."

"What's that?"

"It's called a pulse oximeter. It shows me his heart rate and the levels of oxygen in his blood. That way, I can see if the treatments are effective, or if we have to try something else." Jarod turned and eyed the other man. "Where's Lyle?"

"California." Broots glanced at his watch. "Or he will be when the jet lands."

"So you...?"

Jarod grinned as the man nodded.

"Thanks."

"No problem, but I did it as much for us as you." Broots became serious. "You're not the only one who wants him better."

"I know." Jarod hesitated. "And if I can possibly do it, he'll get better. It'll take time, though. Is Debbie safe?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jarod looked at his watch and then ushered the man out of the room. "This sounds a little weird, but I'm glad you guys are here. I could use a hand."

"What do you need?"

"Food. We're all going to need to eat at some point and, with luck, Sydney will need a specific diet in a few days' time." Jarod glanced around before looking at Miss Parker, who was sitting on the sofa. "Where's Henry?"

"Next door." She looked up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Pulling a chair out from under the table, Jarod straddled it and rested his chin on his arms as he looked at her. "I only met him just over a week ago, Parker. Trust me, I was going to make this place very obvious so you could meet him, but then all this happened."

"But... Tommy never..."

"Thomas thought Henry had died in an accident, several weeks before he met you. The letter Henry sent his cousin telling him about the mistake never arrived because he'd just moved to Blue Cove." Jarod's voice broke momentarily, but he continued. "To live with you."

"And… you...?"

"I read about Henry in the paper and came to help him with no idea of who he really is." Jarod reached into his jacket and pulled out the red notebook, giving it to Miss Parker.

"What was your pretend this time?" Broots leaned against the wall, looking at the other man, as he asked the question.

"By some twist of fate, doctor and research scientist, meaning that I had everything I needed when Sydney passed out on my doorstep."

Miss Parker got to her feet. "Can I see him?"

"Of course, if you keep your voice down. He was asleep a few minutes ago." He paused with one hand on the doorknob. "There's a fair bit of equipment attached to him, but it's all helping, Parker. Don't worry about it."

She nodded. "I know it sounds strange, but I do trust you."

Jarod grinned faintly. "Miracles will never cease."

She stood in the doorway, looking at the man lying in the bed, a oxygen mask on his face, his left arm lying on top of the blanket and the other under it, a tube fastened to a needle that was fixed to the back of his hand, and a plastic device clipped to one index finger. The machine on the bedside table gave out a continuous cloud of steam, and the air was moist as she inhaled, tasting drops of water in her mouth. She could hear a faint hiss that obviously came from the humidifier but there was another noise, a slight crackling, that she couldn't identify.

"What is that?" she demanded in an undertone.

"That noise?" Jarod looked serious. "It's Sydney trying to breathe. It started about three hours ago, soon after we sat him up. Actually, bad as it sounds, it's quite a good thing. It means the stuff that's making it hard for him to breathe is loosening and then he'll be able to cough it up."

Miss Parker looked down at the hand she could see on the bedspread. "So would I be right to guess that his nails and fingers are blue due to a lack of air?"

"Yes, you are." He nodded slowly. "Before I got the oxygen set up, his lips were that color as well, but they're gradually improving."

"And… why did he...?"

"Did he what? Collapse?"

She nodded silently.

"Lack of oxygen and a high fever. He's still got that and I don't expect it to go down for several days." He paused, eyeing her. "Parker, I think he'll have periods of delirium because of this. In fact, I'm surprised he's been as lucid as he has. But some of the things he might say could be painful, particularly if he sees you."

"You mean... because of Momma?"

Jarod nodded. "I'm not saying that I don't want you to see him at all, but I need to know if you can deal with it. If you think it'll be too hard then it might be best for you both if you stay away. I can take care of him on my own."
He leaned back against the door. "I don't want you to feel pressured into helping me with all this, Parker. Take some time and make a decision. It's your choice."

***

Miss Parker led the way to her car, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Henry, as the man walked beside her. Catching her glance, he grinned.

"Stop trying to look at me sideways, Miss Parker. It could be rather dangerous when you're driving."

"I... it's just..."

"I know." He became serious. "Believe me, I do understand."

"I'm sure you do." She half-smiled. "Were you two close?"

"Yes, we were. Our mothers were sisters and we used to see each other every Christmas." Henry’s face became sad. "It was just before Christmas, at about the time he was preparing to fly over and visit, that Thomas heard about the car accident."

"What happened?"

"My car was hit by another and went into a wall. I was in a coma for nearly two months but my other aunt - not Tom's mom. I think you know she’s dead, but their other sister - got the letter about the crash and assumed I'd died. She wrote to Thomas to tell him. Then she came over and found out that I was still alive, but it had been almost six weeks and she'd forgotten about ever writing to him. As soon as I came out of the coma, I sent a letter, telling him that it wasn't true, but it was returned with 'Not known here' on it. The moment they said I was well enough, I flew over here to try and find him." He paused and exhaled slowly. "I got here two weeks too late." He got into the passenger seat as Miss Parker got in behind the wheel. "Thomas wrote to me, first about Jarod and then about you."

"Why did he tell you...?" She hesitated.

"About you or about Jarod?" he finished for her.

"Jarod."

Henry smiled. "They worked together for a while, and, as he seems to have a habit of doing, Jarod gave my cousin a hand to bring down a competitor of his. As far I understand it all, they became very good friends. Then Jarod told Tom about you."

She looked through the windshield for a moment before glancing over at him. "I don't suppose you kept the letters?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did."

"And could I...?"

"Don't you know it's a federal offence to read other people's mail, Miss Parker?"

She was about to snap out an answer when the woman saw the dimples that appeared in his cheeks as he tried to hide a smile and she smiled in response.

***

Broots glanced up as Jarod walked out of the bedroom.

"How's he doing?"

"Much the same."

The Pretender swallowed the hard sentence that had leapt to the tip of his tongue, but the technician looked at him closely and understood the expression in his eyes.

"You don't think he'll make it, do you?"

Jarod tried to smile. "How did you get to know me this well?" He hesitated, before responding honestly. "No, I don't. It's got such a firm grip on him..."

"But he still knows who you are."

"For the moment."

"And… will you tell Miss Parker?"

"Not yet. It's going to be bad enough, if...when..." He couldn't finish.

"What will you do, then? After?"

"Disappear." Jarod swallowed hard, looking up. "For good. No more hints, no more games, no more 'sightings'. The Centre will never find me again."

"And where will you go?"

"I should just tell you?" Jarod challenged.

"She'll want to know."

"I know she will. Maybe, one day..." He stopped again, staring down at the tabletop, and then looked up. "Have you heard anything?"

"No, nothing. Not since the last time, and I told you about that." Broots looked at the man for a moment. "Jarod, we'll find her."

"I'm glad you're so confident. I wish I was." Jarod stood and went to the window, staring out of it. After a pause he turned. "I notice that it didn't take you long to trace my call."

"Hey, I've had a lot of practice. I'm getting better."

Jarod grinned half-heartedly. "And setting the false trail?"

"About half an hour. It's pretty complicated. Lyle will have a heck of a time following it." Broots grinned wickedly. "Of course, that was the idea."

"And where will they end up?"

"You really want to know?"

Jarod put his back against the wall and looked hard at the man, before raising an eyebrow as the technician remained silent. "Okay, where is it, Broots? Where did you put the last tracking device?"

"Under his desk."

The other man choked. "No way."

"Why not? And the second last one is on his car, on the back of that magnificent personalized number-plate of his."

Jarod tried to grin. "If you're jealous, I could always make up one for you too."

Mysterious Connections
Part 2

Jarod heard mutterings from the other room and quickly walked over, pushing open the door and closing it behind him. Nervously, he approached the bed.

"Sydney?"

The eyes that slowly opened focused, not on the man standing beside the bed, but on a point behind him, and Jarod swallowed hard.

"Sydney, can you try to look at me?"

"No, Jacob." The words came softly in Flemish, but Jarod understood them. "I can't go on. No more."

Jarod glanced back over his shoulder, sensing that Broots had entered and was now standing behind him. "Do me a favor."

"Anything,” the technician replied promptly. “What is it?"

"Go through Sydney's medical file. Find out if he's had this before; if so, when."

"I'm on it." The man disappeared, the door closed and Jarod turned back to find that the older man was watching him, no recognition in his eyes. The younger man spoke quickly.

"Sydney? It's me. It's Jarod."

"You've... grown up." A light of recognition came into the man's eyes as he pronounced name, but the words were spoken slowly, in English now. "Did you do that after they took you away from me, Jarod?"

"When did they take me away from you, Sydney?" The younger man followed the idea of the delirious state, knowing it would keep the patient calmer. "Why?"

"You were only six." Sydney licked the lips that were dry under the mask. "They took you from me after the accident, so I could go and look after Jacob."

"Well, I'm here now." Jarod gently placed a hand on the man's arm. "And I want you to try and sleep. You need to rest."

"But... if I sleep... they'll take you away again..."

"No, Sydney." Jarod's voice was soothing. "I promise, they'll never take me away again. They won't take me away from you. Not anymore. Try to rest now. Close your eyes for me."

"I got... too close. I cared... too much." Although his eyes were closed, the man still muttered in a cracked, broken voice, his lips scarcely moving. "I told myself... I shouldn't. But I couldn't help it."

Jarod stood and, one hand still resting on that of the other man, reached out for a syringe that he had had the foresight to prepare. Yanking off the cap with his teeth, he tried to capture the swinging tube with one hand, but it was held for him and the syringe taken from his fingers.

"Clear the air out of it."

He watched, taking his seat again beside the bed, as she flicked it a few times with her finger and then slipped it into the I.V. tube.

"Slowly, Parker. Press the plunger slowly."

Jarod looked at the man in bed, who was still muttering softly, his words all but inaudible between breathlessness and the other sounds in the room. "I'm so very sorry, Jarod... I never meant..."

The voice trailed off, as the hand went limp in his, and then Jarod sank his head in his hands, exhaling slowly. He barely noticed the tentative hand that was placed on his shoulder, but he finally looked up.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yes. Henry was putting it away when I came in here."

"Good timing."

She nodded slowly. "Is he... worse?"

"I told you this might happen, Parker, remember? I've been waiting for it to start ever since he collapsed." He swallowed hard and then his gaze softened as he looked up at her. "Does that mean you'll help?"

"Yes, Jarod." She looked from him to the man on the bed, her hand still touching his shoulder. "I will."

***

He attached a new needle and refilled the syringe, putting it in arm's reach on the table before glancing at the man in bed, his eyes glistening. Impatiently, Jarod wiped an unshed tear away before it had a chance to fall, and exited the bedroom, leaving the door ajar, looking up at the technician.

"What did you find?"

"Sydney had pneumonia when Dachau was liberated."

Oh God, Jarod thought. We have to go through that again. He'll relive it all, over and over.

"Anything else?"

"He might have it just after the car accident, but nobody officially diagnosed it. They put it down as a severe chest infection."

Jarod nodded slowly. "And that's it?"

"That's all the chest problems that he reported."

"Well, that's something to be thankful for." He sat on the sofa, staring at his hands, before he looked up sharply. "And where's Lyle now?"

"He just left California."

"For?"

"Georgia."

"And then?"

"Washington State."

Despite himself, Jarod's lips twitched. "I hope he's using his frequent flyer miles. He’s going to need them when he files his next expense report."

"You don't seem very surprised about it, Jarod." Miss Parker leaned against the table, looking from the technician to the Pretender. "Did Broots tell you all he'd done while I was out?"

Jarod shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

"Great, Jarod!” Broots rolled his eyes, throwing both hands into the air. “After that, she's going to ask until she finds out."

"Well, she will now that you've basically told her to." Jarod leaned back. "Go ahead, tell her. If she hunted deep enough in the mainframe, she'd find out anyway. We did."

"Uh, no, that's fine. You can tell her."

"Scared, buddy?" Jarod watched Miss Parker's eyebrows shoot up at his deliberate use of the word and grinned. "Oops, that was just way too much information, wasn't it?"

"What on earth is going on?!"

"You mean you didn't know?" He stared at her, trying to look innocent. "The Triumvirate forgot to mention that they're using my half-brother to hunt for me? How very careless of them!"

"Your what?!"

"Oh, you heard me." Jarod stretched out on the sofa, exchanging looks with the man opposite him. "My mother's his too. We figured it out during that oh-so-exciting altercation with Damon a few years back." He half-smiled, dimples appearing in his cheeks. "I thought he would have mentioned it at some stage. When they both went to Paris for Debbie's birthday, I went along as uncle and interpreter." He looked sternly at Broots. "I can't believe you didn't tell her!"

"I decided I wanted to live a little longer."

"Coward," his brother teased.

"And proud of it," Broots affirmed.

Jarod laughed before looking at the woman who was staring at both men. "You know, I really can't believe that you didn't find out. I mean, I know some things in the Centre are still secret, but I thought that was just too big to be kept hidden."

"How did it happen?"

The Pretender became serious. "NuGenesis had some of my... our mother's DNA and genetic tissue from when she was there to become pregnant with Kyle and I. When the Centre found out what I capable of and kidnapped me, they used some of the genetic material to make your computer technician. His family was an adoptive one that NuGenesis selected before he was one year old. They've been steering him towards his current job for his whole life."

"And… how did you find out?"

"Do you remember that Damon shot me?"

"I think there was something about it in the report, yes."

"Broots mentioned his blood type, I got curious and we did the tests. It all went on from there." Jarod looked at his brother. "So where's Debbie now?"

"With Emily. I gave her the address and if it's safe she said they'll try to come around at some point."

"I'll look forward to it. I haven't seen either of them in quite a while." Jarod suddenly looked up again, sharply. "How is she?"

"She looked okay and said she felt fine, still occasionally gets a slight headache if she reads for too long or something, but otherwise no problems."

"Good." He looked up at Miss Parker, noting the continued look of shock on her face. "What is it, Parker?"

"Why didn't either of you tell me?"

"What difference would it have made?" Surprisingly, it was Broots who answered this. "Would you have treated Jarod any differently? Or me?"

"The way she behaved towards you would have changed." Jarod tucked an arm up behind his head. "It would have had to. She'd still have had to see you every day and we both know what she thinks of me. If she knew we were related, she'd probably have behaved the same way to you. She doesn't see me often enough for the way she treated me to change." Smiling faintly, he leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. "I guess the way she behaves to you over the next days will tell you whether to stay on the pursuit team or not."

"I hate to mention this, big brother, but it looks like the pursuit team's done what it's supposed to. We're here."

"You haven't brought me back to the Centre yet. Don't count your chickens..."

"Okay, okay." Broots saw the expression on the Pretender’s face and the teasing tones left his voice. Glancing at his watch, the technician looked up again. "It's getting late. Who don’t we arrange something for dinner and then work out sleeping arrangements?"

Jarod nodded, getting slowly to his feet and going into the kitchen.

***

"You two... were kidding, right?"

Jarod looked up as Miss Parker walked into the bedroom and shut the door before going to sit down on a chair in the corner.

"No, Parker. We wouldn't joke about something like that. I know it seems hard to believe - and it was for us, too - but it's true."

"And who else...?"

"Knows? Nobody except Debbie and my family. Or at least as many as I've seen since then. Oh, I didn't tell Ethan. I thought he had enough to cope with. Catherine might have told him - I don't know."

"So why would the Triumvirate make Br…your brother do that?"

"Hunt for me?" Jarod shrugged. "Why do they do anything? It's probably been a great source of amusement to them over the last five years, though, especially knowing how hard I've been searching for my family." He sighed, pressing his back up against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. "We thought about doing something so they'd know we knew, but felt that it might endanger one of our family - like Debbie - so we didn't."

***

Jarod had just settled himself on the camp bed after Miss Parker left the room, one of Henry’s books in his hand, when the figure lying in the other bed moved slightly.

"Sydney?" Jarod got up and sat down in the chair, gently putting out one hand to touch that of the older man. "Sydney, are you awake?"

"Please no." The murmured words were in Flemish and Jarod cursed inwardly as the patient's eyes opened but obviously saw nothing of the room. "Please, no more tests." The language changed suddenly to German. "They hurt too much. I can’t bear it. No. Please."

"All right, Sydney." Jarod replied softly in the same language. "No more tests. Now I want you to try and sleep for me. Just try to relax."

"No, no, please..."

Jarod glanced at his watch and noted with aggravation that he was going to have to wait until he could safely administer another shot to calm the man down.

"Sydney, I need you to listen to me." Jarod changed to Flemish, aware that it would be more easily understood. "You need to try and relax. I know it hurts, but if you relax it will help."

"No, Jacob. I can't. Just let me go. Please. It's too hard. I can't wait until... they - the America - the Americans... they might never..."

"Sydney, close your eyes for me," the Pretender pleaded softly, as the man stopped, gasping for breath.

"No! If I do that, you'll leave... I need somebody... to stay with me..."

"I promise you, Sydney, I'll stay with you, but you need to try and calm down." Jarod squeezed the older man's hand gently. "If you relax, the pain will be better, and I promise that I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You did go, Jacob. You left me after the accident."

A tear slipped out of the man's eye, running down onto the mask, as Jarod tried to think of an answer that would calm his mentor without upsetting him.

"I'm here, though, Sydney." He changed to English. "It's me. It's Jarod."

"Jarod?" The blue eyes came to rest on him, lighting up as they had done before, but the man continued to speak in Flemish. "I thought you were dead."

Switching to the other language, Jarod saw the woman appear in the doorway, but a signal he made went unseen by the delirious man. Without a sound, she nodded and disappeared.

"No, Sydney. I'm still here, still beside you, but I need you to relax. Just shut your eyes for me. I can't help you unless you work with me. Close your eyes and try to rest."

"You won't... leave me?"

"No, Sydney." Jarod squeezed the man’s hand more firmly. "I wouldn't do that. Not now, while you need me."

The man opened his mouth to speak again, but coughed instead. Jarod stood, reaching for a bowl that was on the table, removing the oxygen mask as he did so, and raising the head of the bed a little more.

"That's it, Sydney." Jarod’s voice was soft and soothing. "Try and cough. It will make it easier to breathe afterwards."

Gently, he slid an arm around the man's shoulders, and, with the other hand holding the bowl, helped the man sit up. The coughing fit was violent, and Sydney was out of breath by the time it was over, lying weakly against the pillows, as Jarod put the mask back over his pale, almost gray face.

"Jarod..."

Looking up as he put down the bowl, Jarod saw that the gaze Sydney turned on him was very alert.

"It's okay, Sydney. I told you I'd take care of you, remember?"

The psychiatrist nodded slightly, moving one hand, which Jarod gently covered with his own, a smile on the Pretender's face.

"Just try to relax, Sydney. I know it's hard and it hurts, but try."

Sydney's eyes slipped closed, but the hand in Jarod's was still tense. A thought came into his mind, and the younger man leaned forward. "Was there something that you wanted to tell me, Sydney?"

The pain-filled eyes opened once more, staring directly into his, as Jarod lifted off the mask with his free hand so that he could see the man's lips.

"T... thank you...Jarod."

Jarod smiled, replacing the plastic, and gently squeezed the man's hand as his eyelids slowly slid closed again.

"You're welcome, Sydney."

***

Jarod peered at the specimen through the microscope and then sat back with a sigh of relief.

"What is it?"

"Bacterial pneumonia."

Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "And that's good?"

"It's at least treatable. If it'd been viral, we couldn't have done much, but bacterial pneumonia means we can give Sydney penicillin and hope it will have an effect."

"How did you now know that before? I mean, you said you were going to do tests and…"

"I did, Parker." He cut through her speech. "But pneumonia is virtually impossible to detect accurately with blood tests and I had to wait for him to start coughing so I could test what he brought up."

The woman nodded. "And how did he get it?"

"Breathing." Jarod pulled his bag over the table towards him, taking out a pile of syringes and strip of needles, before extracting several glass vials. "And, because of that fact, anyone who wants to go into the room with him from now on gets a nice gift from me." He opened the first syringe and affixed the needle, filling it, before turning to the other people in the room, with an alcohol swab in his left hand and a small grin on his face. "Who's up first?"

***

"I never knew there was a pneumonia vaccine." Miss Parker rubbed her arm and then looked at the Pretender.

"Most people don't, but it's been around for years. Longer than that for influenza, actually."

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with it?"

"I might have helped a bit." Jarod wiped his own arm and injected himself with the vaccine.

"Couldn't you have made it accessible in a less painful form?"

"Picky, picky, picky." He removed the needle from the plastic syringe and let it drop into the container where he was storing the used items. "It'll hurt for only a couple of seconds, but if you get what Sydney’s got, it'd hurt for a heck of a lot longer."

Miss Parker looked up at him. "Why didn't you want me to come in before?"

"How much of what we were saying did you understand?"

"None, except when you spoke in English."

"If we had enough time then I'd teach you both Flemish and German, but I don't think we do." Jarod sat back in his chair with a sigh and folded his arms. "What he said as you appeared in the doorway was 'I thought you were dead'. This delirium will bring out some of his deepest fears, and that appears be one of them. If he saw you in that state - regardless of whether he saw you as you or your mother - it would have a similar impact."

"He’d think I was dead, or perhaps remember she is too, and it would upset him more."

Jarod looked over at her, eyebrows raised, hiding a smile. "I don't know why they dragged me to the Centre when they already had you there."

"Says the man who can speak - how many languages can you speak again?"

"At last count?" He grinned. "Seventy-three. Give or take."

"I don't think I want to know."

"What, you've never read a multi-lingual dictionary? They're fascinating."

***

Jarod slipped back into the room, placing the syringe on the table, and then looked up to find that the man in the bed was watching him, panting slightly for breath.

"Sydney?"

"Jarod... what... are you...?"

He smiled. "I've got something to help you with the pain." Jarod leaned over the bed to make it easier for the sick man to focus on him. "Can you remember if you had a flu shot this year?"

The man shook his head slowly. "I never... went..."

"Okay, it doesn't matter." Jarod gently put one hand on his arm. "Just try to sleep, Sydney. I'm going to give you something to make it easier to relax, and also to stop your chest from being so painful."

Obediently closing his eyes, the man felt the warmth flowing into his body as the weight on his chest gradually lightened, making it easier to draw in a deep breath before slipping down into the blackness.

"Asleep?" asked the quiet voice of his brother from the doorway and the Pretender turned.

"Thankfully." Jarod stepped back from the bed and disposed of the needle. "I'm going to take advantage of this to try to get a little sleep myself and I’d suggest that you two do the same. How are we managing for sleeping arrangements?"

"Henry offered us the use of his spare room, so I'll sleep over there and Parker can spend the night on the sofa in your living room. She wanted to be close and I don't mind."

"As long as everybody's happy, that sounds like a good solution." Jarod looked up again. "Tell Parker that I'll call her if I need a hand."

"No problem. Good night, Jarod."

"Good night."

***

Jarod awoke a few hours later, getting out of bed to look at the reading of the machine, and was relieved to see that it was stable. Going over to the bed, he picked up a new needle and filled it, putting it in a convenient position, before changing the I.V. bag that was preventing Sydney from dehydrating. As everything seemed in order, he was about to return to bed when the hand under his moved and then the ill man's eyelids slowly lifted.

"Sydney?"

"Please, help me..."

The Flemish words were murmured but the pain in his eyes was very clear.

"Sydney, it's okay,” Jarod soothed. “You're safe."

The patient’s eyes flickered around the room, focusing on anything except the man seated in the chair beside the bed. Jarod leaned forward. "Sydney, come on. Try to look at me. I know you can."

"They're all... gone. I don't want...to be alone..."

"You're not alone, Sydney. I'm right here, with you."

"Please, I'm too scared... not alone..."

"Sydney, you're not alone. You're safe here, with me."

"You're not... real... only a dream..."

"No, Sydney. I'm real, very real, and I'll stay here with you."

"Only pain... is real..."

"Yes, Sydney, I know that pain is real, but I'm real too. Just try to look at me."

"Pain... and death..."

"No." Jarod squeezed the older man's hand more tightly. "Not death. You are not going to die, Sydney, do you hear me? I won't let you."

"Too hard... Catherine, Jacob... dead... too hard to live..."

"I know it's hard, Sydney, but you have to keep fighting. Please, don't give up yet. Not now."

"Jarod has his family... Nicholas has Michelle... nobody needs me anymore... I'll go home..."

"Sydney, I still need you. Please."

Unaware of the tears that had begun to appear in his eyes as his own fear was stated by his former teacher, Jarod continued to plead with the sick man, even as Sydney's eyelids slowly slid shut and, with a sigh, he relaxed.

Mysterious Connections
Part 3

Jarod quickly moved his fingers so that they rested on Sydney's wrist, sighing with relief as he felt the rapid but fairly strong pulse, before placing the man's hand back down on the blanket. He waited for Sydney to fall asleep, and then, as he turned away, Jarod noticed the woman in the doorway.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly and went over to her, grateful that the conversation with Sydney had been in Flemish.

"He's going to die, isn't he?"

"I... I don't know, Parker." Jarod put a hand on her arm and gently guided her out of the room, pulling the door almost closed behind them. "I hope not."

"What would be the worst-case scenario, Jarod?"

"For us or for him?"

Miss Parker poured boiling water into two mugs and gave one to him, carrying the other into the living room and sitting on the sofa. Jarod straddled the chair as he had earlier, eyes fixed on the carpet, and spoke as though she had answered his question.

"For us? I suppose it would be if he died. But, if this went on for a long time - you know what happens when the brain is starved of oxygen."

"Serious brain damage."

Jarod nodded. "In that case, death might be preferable for all concerned."

"And,” her voice was soft, “worst for him?"

"Brain damage would be awful, but right now he's caught up in nightmares he can't get away from - the worst nightmares, because they're his most terrible fears on a sort of grand scale. And he's in awful pain. It's like someone wrapped big iron bands around his chest and keeps tightening them."

"What can you do?"

"Give him antibiotics in the hope they'll be effective against the bacteria, and provide him with pain-killer so that he can try and get some sleep. Otherwise, nothing."

"Except be there when he needs you."

He looked up to meet her eye. "I can try, anyway, but he doesn't always know if I'm there, or that it's me."

"But if you weren't here, there'd be nobody who could help,” the woman affirmed. “None of us would be able to understand him."

"Mmm," Jarod stared thoughtfully at the floor for several moments before looking up sharply. "Parker, can you do something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Open Sydney's file and find out where he lived when he and Jacob first came to the States."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, sure, but..."

"I'll be right back." He got up and put the mug down on the table, walking into the apartment’s bedroom. Miss Parker shook her head for a moment before starting the computer and logging onto the Centre mainframe.

Jarod shut the door silently behind him and then went over to the bed, sitting in the seat again and putting a gentle hand on Sydney's. As if at a signal, the older man's eyes opened to focus on him. The Pretender smiled. "Hi, Sydney. Do you know me?"

"Jarod," the sick man murmured from between dry lips.

"Good. Very good. And do you know where you are?"

"With... you. Safe."

Jarod smiled again. "Yes, that's true. And you are safe; you’re very safe. But can you tell me what city you're in?"

There was a look of doubt on the man's face before his head moved slowly from side to side.

"Do you remember how you got here from Blue Cove yesterday?"

"I left... Bl…?" The man stopped, unable to pronounce the words, but Jarod nodded.

"Yes, you did. But if you don't remember, that's fine. We'll work it out. Just try to sleep now."

"Pain," the older man gasped as he tried to take in a deeper breath.

"I know you're in pain, Sydney, and I'll give you something for it as soon as I can, but we both know what would happen if you have too much, too soon."

The man nodded slowly and closed his eyes. Jarod looked over to check that the oxygen tank was still full enough and, feeling that the man in the bed had finally managed to fall asleep, he got up and went back into the living room.

"What are you, Jarod, psychic?" a voice demanded quietly as soon as he appeared.

"How so?" He left the door slightly ajar and walked over to pick up his mug, drinking some of the lukewarm coffee inside it.

"You're in Sydney's old house, even the identical apartment that he and Jacob lived in before they moved to Blue Cove to work at the Centre."

Jarod folded his arms and leaned against the table. "I got that feeling."

"When?"

"After Sydney said that he wanted to go home. If he was feeling, yesterday, the same way he was just before, this would be a natural place for him to head for." Jarod picked up the pants that were draped over a chair and put a hand into the pocket, pulling out a piece of paper.

"Bingo!"

"What is it?"

"Train ticket from Blue Cove to Trenton. He was, in his own words, 'going home' because he thought that he'd find people who needed him here."

"I don't understand."

Jarod closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard before looking at her. "He said that I’d found my family, and Nicholas had Michelle, that nobody needed him now, so he’d go home. That's what he was trying to do."

"Michelle!" Miss Parker looked up at him. "Are we going to tell her?"

"Do you want her to see him like that?" Jarod stared at the floor. "This is similar to what killed her husband. Can you imagine her having to go through it all twice?"

"But, if we don't tell her, then..."

"I know, Parker." He looked up at her again. "Let's see how he is later this morning. Then we'll decide. It won't take them long to get here from Albany, and we can send them both tickets to fly direct."

"And that would bring the Centre here at a run."

"The Centre's already here, Parker, or did you miss that? You and Broots are the Centre too, you know."

"I... didn't think of it that way."

Jarod nodded. "I can understand how you wouldn't." He turned to stare out of the window until Miss Parker cleared her throat. Looking over, he could see concern in her eyes.

"What is it?"

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know, Parker. At best guess, he'll be relatively lucid in the morning and it will fade until he's the same in the evening as he was today...yesterday," Jarod corrected himself, running a hand through his hair and sighing wearily. Then he looked up at her. "I'm going to see if I can get some more sleep. You might want to do the same. We've got a long, hard day ahead."

***

"Sydney?"

"Jarod... am I... dying?"

The Pretender leaned in closer, his face illuminated by the rising sun, just visible through the window. "You have to keep fighting, Sydney. I know it hurts and it's hard, but I still need you. I can't let you go yet."

"I thought... I was dying..."

"I know you did. But I can't afford to lose you."

The sick man's eyes brightened slightly. "We all have to go...sometime..."

"But not yet, Sydney. It's too soon. Not like this, not now." Jarod grasp tightened and his eyes were glistening. "I'm going to fight this with everything I've got and I need you to keep fighting too. Together we can win, I know it."

"I'm... so tired..."

"Yes, Sydney, I know you are, and you can rest, but you can't give up."

"Can I...?"

"You can sleep. I'll be right here beside you."

"You won't... leave...?"

"Of course not, Sydney. I wouldn't go anywhere. Now, just relax. I'll be right here, taking care of you, for as long as you need me."

The hand under his tightened convulsively for a moment before the man shut his eyes. Jarod pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, trying to remove the tears he could feel there. The hand on his arm made him jump, before turning to see that his brother had come into the room.

"Are you okay?"

"I...I think so." He looked up. "What's Parker doing?"

"Making breakfast. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Not right now." Jarod glanced at his watch. "I can give Sydney something to help him sleep in about an hour, and maybe I'll eat then. But I'll wait for that."

"As long as you're sure."

***

He administered the dose of medication, before checking the readout of the oximeter. Sydney hadn't woken lucidly since early that morning, although there had been several short, delirious episodes, and as Jarod looked down at the levels of oxygen in his blood, the Pretender wasn't surprised. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked up.

"I think we need to call Michelle."

"Are... are you sure?" the woman stammered, color fading from her cheeks.

"She'll... want to say goodbye, Parker. And you'll need to think about... what you want to say."

Jarod watched as she struggled to maintain her composure, fighting the tears he could see in her eyes. Walking over, he put his arms around her, feeling her leaning against him as she let the tears fall.

"Parker, it's better for him. It's so painful now. Afterwards... it won't hurt anymore."

He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard, and hiding his own emotions, not willing to let her see them. His arms tightened around her and he moved one hand from her back to her hair, gently stroking it.

"Come on, Parker. Please. I know how hard this is, but..."

"You don't even care."

He stepped back, arms falling to his sides, staring at her, unable to believe what she had just said.

"How can you…?"

"Well, look at you. You knew all along that this would happen and you're as calm as day. This is exactly the same as you were when your supposed friend Thomas was killed."

Jarod felt his anger rise and fought to hold it in check. "I can't help other people if I let myself be controlled by what I feel."

"If that's your genius idea, I'm glad I'm not one," her voice mocked as she turned away.

"That's what I was taught to do, Miss Parker. I was told not to reveal my emotions, so I could continue to help other people as they needed it." Despite himself, Jarod's voice became cold and his eyes shone with a hard, angry light. "If you don't want my help, I won’t force it on you, but other people might and I need to be ready for that. Besides which, I can't care for Sydney effectively if I get too emotional."

"Emotional?" Miss Parker sneered. "You don't have a single emotional facet in your so-called personality. And you call me the Ice Queen..."

Jarod's eyes glittered with angry tears. "How dare you...!"

"When Faith died, you never even reacted!"

"You needed me then. I knew that. And I knew what was going to happen. I could prepare for it. I tried to prepare you for it too."

"And when Thomas died..."

"You never saw me during the night, did you Parker?” he snapped. ”You never saw me sitting in my dark little hotel room in Blue Cove, when I recalled every moment we'd spent together, when I tried to imagine how happy he'd been, knowing you. You never saw that and you have no right - none at all - to tell me how I feel or don't feel.”

Jarod began pacing the room, his eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to look at the woman in the doorway, who was almost afraid of the storm she had caused.

“I couldn't even attend the funeral of one of the best men I've ever known because, if I had, it would have been the last time I ever saw the sky. Even then, though, I thought about it, just so I had the chance to say goodbye to my best friend. But I had an idea of what it would do to you - disturbing feelings you had on that day. So I didn't come. You honestly thought that you were the only person who cared about him but it's not true. Nor were you the only person who cared about Faith. Angelo was completely devastated when she died but you needed comfort before we let ourselves be upset. Surprising as this may be for you, you weren't even the only person who was devastated when it seemed as if your mother had been killed in the elevator. And when Sydney dies..." Jarod's voice broke and he turned to the bed. "If you feel even only half of what I feel about this, you'll wish you were dead too." Suddenly, turning on his heel, he glared at her. "Now get the hell out!"

***

"Jarod?"

He raised his head from the position in his hands where it was resting to see the technician in the doorway.

"Are you okay?"

"I guess..." Jarod shrugged, standing up.

"Miss Parker said to say..."

"I don't want to hear it." His voice became sharp again.

"But..."

"Not a word. I don't care to hear whatever message she chooses to send me."

Broots nodded slowly. "Michelle said to say that their plane will land in an hour."

"Good." Jarod turned to the bed and picked up the limp wrist of the ill man, feeling the strength of the pulse. "They'll be in time... but not by much."

"And… you're sure?"

The Pretender exhaled slowly, turning to his brother. "I'm pretty sure. Nothing I can give him is helping, except to give him rest and that's not enough now. He can hardly breathe, he's not absorbing oxygen properly, and what he is getting isn't enough to keep him alive." He looked up. "If you believe in miracles, you better start praying for one."

"And there's nothing else...?"

Jarod walked over, pulling the door shut so that neither occupant of the living room could hear what was being said, before placing one hand on the shoulder of the other man. "If there was anything else I could do, don't you think I'd be doing it, no matter what it was?"

"Of course you would, but I thought maybe..."

"I know." He turned to the bed to see that Sydney's eyes were open, fixed on him in a languid gaze. "Sydney?"

"I'm sorry, Jarod."

Oh God, the Pretender thought, sinking into the chair and covering the sick man's hand with his. This is exactly what happened with Kyle, and Michelle and Nicholas won't get here in time so they'll always blame me for this as much as I blame myself for what happened to Kyle.

"For what?" Despite himself, he couldn't help repeating the same words that he had spoken to his dying brother.

"That I never let myself get close to you. I wanted to, I really did."

The older man stopped, gasping for breath, as his fingers tightened around Jarod's, and his former protégée leaned forward over the bed.

"Sydney, please hang on just a little longer. They'll be here soon."

There was a faint curiosity on the ailing man’s eyes. "Who?"

"I called Michelle. She and your son..."

"You were always... like a son to me too, Jarod."

For several seconds Jarod struggled, both for control and to understand if Sydney knew what he was saying or was slipping back into the delirium. He was about to reply, despite having no idea what to say, when he saw that the man in the bed had closed his eyes. Jarod put his elbows on the mattress, sank his face into his hands and silently let the tears flow over his fingers. Broots hesitated for a moment before going over and resting a hand on his brother's shoulder.

***

Jarod heard the footsteps in the doorway and got out of the chair without looking at the people who stood there.

"You're... just in time."

The Pretender walked over to the window and stared out of it as the woman took his place in the chair beside the bed and picked up the hand of the man who lay there.

"Sydney?"

"Michelle... you... came..."

The words were hoarse, faint, but there was a note of something different in them that made the man in the corner turn towards the bed, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, Sydney." The woman spoke in fluent Flemish. "Of course I came. What made you think I wouldn't?"

"I didn't... think... you'd... bother about... me."

She pulled the chair closer to the bed and reached out a hand, gently stroking the man's hair, the backs of her fingers brushing his cheek. "You're no bother, Sydney."

"And… did Nicholas...?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm here." The young man stepped over to the side of the bed. He put one hand on his mother's shoulder, in a gesture like that Jarod had secretly seen when Michelle's husband had died, and the Pretender turned back to the window. As the conversation continued, Jarod turned and went to the door, casting a last look back at the trio before closing it quietly behind him.

***

"Can I talk to you?"

The man looked up from his book to see the woman standing in the doorway, and smiled with the expression that was so familiar. "Of course you can, Miss Parker. Come in."

"I wanted to give these back to you." She offered a bundle of letters and Henry took them with a smile.

"I hope they were a comfort - of sorts."

"Yes, they were." She sat down on the sofa and looked at him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What was Jarod's reaction when he figured out who you were?"

"You mean when I opened the door of my apartment to find him on my doorstep?" He grinned at the memory. "Total and complete shock."

"So he knew who you were right away?"

"It took him a while to figure out the family connection, knowing Tom didn't have any brothers, but he got it more quickly than I expected him to."

"But he was just surprised?"

The man looked at her closely. "Miss Parker, although I wasn't planning to admit this, I heard what you said to Jarod and you are very, very wrong."

She would have glared at him, but the expression in his eyes, being so similar to that of the man she had loved, made her pause.

"The day after Jarod helped me, we sat down and talked about Thomas, and I mean that we talked for the whole day. Jarod blames himself that he ever even introduced you two because he sees it as the reason Thomas was killed. And he never had the chance to say goodbye to my cousin either, except to a square of marble. It might be a little hard for you to believe, Miss Parker, but going to a funeral is the best way to start the grieving process. Missing out on that makes it harder to deal with what happened, harder to believe. Then, after it all happened, he was focusing so hard on trying to find out who did it so you could have resolution in your grief that he had to put aside his own feelings, the same way he's done for most of his life."

"How did you know...?"

"Thomas told me. Jarod stayed at his house the night after closing down the competitor. Tom overheard the nightmares that Jarod had and asked him about it. It took some persuasion but finally he told my cousin some of what he went through. When Thomas wrote about Jarod, he told me a few things. It wasn't much, but when added what Jarod said while we were talking, it was enough to show me what he felt. My cousin never made a lot of close friends in his life, especially once he started working, because he was almost on the move. He and Jarod were close - closer than you can probably even be aware of. By bringing you and Thomas together, Jarod was trying to bring stability into both of your lives, and love there as well. In return for all that Jarod told him about his childhood, Tom told Jarod about losing his family, and how hard it had been for him. It was just another reason that he thought the two of you would go so well together."

Henry leaned back in his seat, drawing his legs to his chest, his eyes fixed on the woman who sat opposite. "Jarod told me what you said when you first saw the model he'd left of the first meeting between you and Thomas on the anniversary of his..."

"You mean he was there?" the woman shot back in disbelief.

"He wanted to hear your response before he made his next move. He thought it'd be the best way to do so."

"I'd never have thought that Jarod would have tried to interfere..."

"Is that how you see it?" Henry looked up at her, his expression one of surprise, and she lifted an eyebrow.

"How would you see it if not as interference?"

"As trying to make two people he knew and cared for happy by introducing them to one other. I would have thought that it was just an extension of what he's done since he got out into the world - a more personal pretend."

"And how do you know so much about it?" she demanded.

"Thomas had a skill for finding out things about people, and, according to what Tom told me, Jarod can be quite transparent sometimes." He eyed her closely. "And so can you."

***

The last glow of sunset shone through the bedroom window as Jarod closed the blinds before doing something he had been holding back from since Michelle and Nicholas' arrival. He went over to the machine that recorded the response of the man on the bed, staring at the readout. Taking another look, he then glanced over at the woman who was watching him.

"What is it?" Michelle demanded in concern.

"You didn't take that clip off and put it on your own finger, did you?"

"Of course not, Jarod."

He tore off the page, leaving the machine to continue slowly printing out a record of Sydney's heart rate, and carried it over to the bed.

"This was this morning. And," he pointed at the slowly rising line, "this is the level of oxygen in Sydney's blood since your arrival. That's normal." He pointed to the thick red line on the page, several inches above a blue line showing the levels of the sick man.

"So he could...?"

"Survive? It's possible. There's still a way to go before he's out of danger, but he's a lot better than he was." Jarod glanced at the man, who lay with his eyes closed, his lips losing the blue tint they had had that morning. "You were obviously what he needed."

Mysterious Connections
Part 4

Jarod cautiously sat up in the quiet of the living room and looked at the man who was asleep on the sofa. Standing, he folded the blanket and put the pillow on top of it before placing the items that had constituted his temporary bed on a chair in the corner. Going over, he laid an envelope on the table, removed a key from his pocket and silently placed it on top of the white rectangle. Collecting the bags that waited near the door, Jarod stood for several seconds, his eyes shut, willing away the threatening tears. Finally he opened the door of the apartment and stepped through it, silently closing it behind him.

"Going somewhere, big brother?"

Jarod started violently at the quietly spoken words, turning to find the technician leaning back against the opposite wall with his arms folded, watching him.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." Broots stepped forward so that he blocked the stairs. "And why?"

"They don't need me anymore. You don't. It's easier this way."

"And how is Sydney supposed to recover without a doctor?" the technician demanded.

"I'm not a doctor," Jarod protested.

"No, but you're the closest thing we've got."

"I left a letter explaining what he needs to receive and how often. I also signed the necessary forms for you to get more equipment, should he require it. Like I said, you don't need me."

"You promised..."

"I promised to stay for as long as he needed me, Broots, and he doesn't. Sydney's recovering because Michelle's here, not because I am. I just seem to have made things worse. He hasn't had a delirious fit since their arrival."

"That sounds dangerously like jealousy, Jarod," the technician proposed.

"If you want to take it that way..." the other man commented with a shrug.

Broots looked at his brother closely. "If you're so jealous of them, why did you bring Michelle back into Sydney's life in the first place?"

"For the same reason that I helped you get custody of Debbie before I knew who actually you were, and for the same reason that I told Thomas about Parker. I wanted you to be happy. It's the only thing I've ever wanted."

"And what about you?"

"I'll be fine. I always am."

"Fine?" Broots stared at him in amazement. "You're not fine. You'll leave here - assuming I let you, of course - and find somewhere to worry about Sydney constantly until you learn find out that he's gone back to work again, and then you'll worry more that he's working too hard, but you won't get in touch because it'd be too hard for you, although it’ll be what Sydney wants, because he'll be devastated when he wakes up later this morning to find you missing, and…"

"And you're going to be unconscious in a minute if you don't take a breath," the older man put in.

"We're talking about you now, not me."

"No, you were talking about Sydney, and he's got his family here now, and he'll be a lot better around them than he was around me. Besides, he knows my habits, or he should by this time, and if he's able to think straight then he'll know it was nothing more than he really should have expected, and if he can't think straight then he won't be missing me."

"Now who's talking in long sentences without taking a breath?"

"Must be genetic."

Broots grinned. "Look, make it less painful. Go back in there. No one has to know you've done this except us."

Jarod took a firmer grip on his bags. "You can't watch me all the time, and I'll be gone as soon as you turn around, so make this easier and get out of my way. Then you can tell Sydney that I left, but it was my choice because I thought it was better for him, okay?"

"Won't you at least leave me a number so he can call you?"

"Then you can use it to track me down? I don't think so, Broots. I know what you're capable of. He has my email, as have you, and, when he's back at work, he can send me a message if he wants."

The younger man raised an eyebrow. "You think he won't?"

"I don't know what he'll want when he recovers. Look, little brother, go back to bed now and pretend this didn't happen. Feign shock tomorrow morning when I'm not here and let me know how things are going, the way we've been doing for the past couple of years. I'll drop the odd hint so that you've still got things to do, okay?"

"And Debbie and Emily?"

"Give me their address and I'll stop in to see them. If you want, I'll call and let you know how they're getting on. But get this through your genetically thick skull. I'm going, comprends tu?"

"You know my French is terrible."

Jarod rolled his eyes and took a step forward. "Stop stalling, Broots, and move. I’m leaving this building tonight, and if you keep blocking the stairs, I'll use one of my other escape routes. I didn't move in here without a plan to get out in case a team of sweepers showed up, but I'd rather walk in a civilized manner down the stairs than jump out a window."

Reluctantly reaching into his pocket, Broots produced a slip of paper and held it out. " You’ll probably push me down the stairs if I don't, so go. This is the address Em gave me." Broots looked up at his brother. "You will tell me how Debbie is, won't you?"

"Sure." Jarod's eyes softened. "You know I will. And… and you'll let me know how Sydney is, right?"

"If you want me to."

Jarod took the piece of paper and then pulled his brother into a hug. "Thanks."

"Miss Parker's going to be furious when she realizes you've gone."

"Like that's anything new. Besides, she chose to spend the night at Henry's place rather than mine, so it's her choice."

"You know why she made that decision," Broots stated softly.

"I wasn't really looking forward to seeing her later today either, so that makes this easier."

"If it's so hard..."

"I'm doing it anyway." He moved down a few steps and then looked back. "Sleep well, little brother."

***

"Mom?"

"What is it, Nicholas?" Michelle spoke quietly, looking up at her son from her seat beside the bed, her hand in that of the man lying there, placing the book she had been reading facedown on the blanket.

"Jarod's gone."

"What?!" She stared up at him. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I mean 'gone' as in not here anymore. His bed's all folded up, and…"

"He could have just gone shopping."

"And written a letter?" Nicholas offered the envelope. "He left the key to the apartment, too. I don't think he's coming back."

"He usually doesn't." The voice from the doorway made the two people turn. "But you're right, Nicholas. He certainly isn't coming back this time."

"Why not?" Michelle's eyes were full of concern as she looked at the technician.

"He thought he was undoing all the good you were doing by being here."

"But... how will we... I mean, Sydney needs him."

"Jarod said that his letter would give you all the directions you needed to care for Sydney."

"You spoke to him?"

"I spent nearly an hour trying to talk him out of it, but Jarod’s pretty stubborn, and he'd already made the decision."

Michelle looked at the man closely. "He left because of us, didn't he?"

"Ye... well, sort of. He thought you'd be able to care for Sydney better without him."

"And when Sydney asks for him?"

"You can tell him. After all, we've had five years of Jarod disappearing in front of our eyes. It probably won't be that surprising." Broots leaned against the wall. "I don't think Jarod would have left if he doubted Sydney could recover with only us to look after him. In fact, I know he wouldn't have."

"If he does get better."

"Jarod talked as though he would and I think he'd know." He glanced at the man who stood at the bedside. "I'm going to make us all some breakfast. Want to give me a hand, Nicholas?"

***

"They're both fine, Broots. You'll see them soon. I told Em to bring your daughter there but, if you think it's not safe, she can take her away again."

"Thanks, Jarod."

"And… how's Sydney?"

"He's all right but… he hasn't asked about you."

"No." Jarod's voice was suddenly strained. "I didn't think he would."

Broots heard the dial tone in his ear and disconnected the call, staring at the floor of the room.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, Miss Parker. He didn't tell me - well, he wouldn't, would he?"

"Why not? You are his brother."

"All the more reason." He looked up at her. "When we first discussed this, during the holiday in Paris, Jarod suggested that to avoid a conflict of interest I should transfer to a different area of the Centre. I've been trying to organize it ever since, without telling them my real reason for it, though, but the Triumvirate always said I couldn't do it until you knew about my application." He hesitated for a moment. "As soon as we get back to the Centre, I'm telling them that you do."

"And,” the woman’s tones were sharp. “Why?”

"I can't keep chasing my brother, Miss Parker. Particularly not considering that whether you’re aware of it or not, you already changed the way you treat me, and I don't want to try and work with that."

"Great, so first I lose Sydney and then you."

"You haven't lost Sydney. When he recovers, I've got no doubt he'll want to keep working with you." His voice softened. "After all, he cares about you."

"And you'll help Jarod to stay out of the Centre, telling him if we're getting close."

"You've just stated my real reason for leaving the pursuit, Miss Parker, but we both know how much danger I'd be in if I did that, and how much danger it would put Debbie in, which would be worse. No, I'll get the transfer to Corporate and have no idea of what you're up to so I can't help him."

"And that will tell the Triumvirate that you both know."

"That won't make any difference. The Centre already has a firm enough hold on me for me to keep working to the best of my abilities but I just can't do this to my brother. The last eighteen months have been hell." He stood up and met her eye. "I'm not living like that any more."

***

"Henry, did you know that...?"

"Jarod left? Yes." He held up a small piece of paper. "This was in my mailbox this morning."

"What is it?"

"A note thanking me for my help with Sydney." Henry glanced at her. "It's a pity you didn't get to tell him you were sorry for what you said."

"And you think I was going to?"

"If he'd let you, yes. I just hope you get the chance at some time, because it'll be bad for both of you if you don't."

"Uh, excuse me, Henry?"

The man turned to the newcomer in the doorway. "Yes, Broots, what's up?"

"We need a hand."

"Sure." The man got to his feet. "What with?"

"That bed-raising thing you made. We're not 100% sure how to work it."

"Jarod didn't leave you directions in the letter?"

"Oh, he did, but they're blurred and the ink ran, so they're kind of hard to read."

Henry nodded slowly before glancing at Miss Parker. "Like I said, he can be really transparent sometimes."

***

"Daddy!"

"Hi Debbie." Broots hugged the girl as she ran into the room. "How's my girl?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too, sweetie, but you had fun with your aunt, right?"

"Yup." The girl grinned. "I even managed to beat her at chess."

Broots glanced at his half-sister. "Weren't you concentrating, Em?"

"Jarod turned up just before we finished and - distracted me."

The man nodded and then looked down at his daughter. "And did you play it with him too?"

"Uh huh. But he won."

"That's no great surprise."

Debbie ran over Miss Parker as she appeared in the doorway and Broots took a seat opposite Emily. "How was he?"

"Terrible. I've never seen him in such a state."

"You've hardly ever seen him,” the technician retorted.

"You know what I mean, Broots. It took him every trick he knew to beat Debbie and that would normally be a walkover for him."

"I was afraid that might happen." He eyed the floor for a second before looking at her. "Did he say where was he going?"

"He didn't know. He said he'd just drive around for a while and take a break."

Broots nodded slowly. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

"You know what I'm worried he might do?"

"Hand himself in to Lyle," the man guessed shrewdly.

"Exactly."

"Oh, come on." The words came from the woman who walked over to join them and sat next to Emily. "As if Jarod would willingly do that."

"He's not thinking straight, Parker. He might do anything."

"Then we should find him."

"You've got no hope. Jarod would show himself to Lyle before he appeared to one of us at the moment."

"Oh really?" Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "And why?"

Emily looked up. "The sight of one of you would make him think of Sydney, and that's the one person he doesn't want to be reminded of."

"Besides, Parker, where would you look?” Broots put in. “You've got no clues and he didn't tell either of us anything - so how would you go about it?"

***

"How's he doing?"

"Slowly improving." Michelle looked up. "I think you were right, Broots. I think he will recover."

"As I said, Jarod wouldn't have left if he thought that Sydney was going to die."

"He didn't tell you anything when he called?"

"His voice told me plenty, but no." Broots stared at the floor. "What, exactly, was in that letter? I never got a chance to read it, except trying to decipher the writing about the bed."

"Here." She handed it to him. "We'll need it back when you're done, if you don't mind, Broots. I can't memorize it all."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Broots placed a hand on Michelle's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'll bring it back as soon as I'm finished with it."

"M... Michelle?"

"Yes, Sydney." As Broots moved to the door, she leaned over the bed. "I'm here."

"Are you... staying...?"

"Of course I am." She gently stroked the side of his face and he opened his eyes, turning his head to look her. "I'm not leaving you, not until you get better."

"I... will...?"

"We think so, but you have to want to as well."

"I'll try..." The man's voice was faint as his eyes closed, but there was a smile on his lips, just visible under the mask.

***

"Well?"

"As clinical and unfeeling as a medical report." Broots threw the letter down onto the table. "It is a medical report - medicines and doses, times for giving them, a list of possible equipment and circumstances in which they may need to be used, and times to change what we already are using - the oxygen and humidifier. He also includes some details about the bed-head and angles to set it at what times. Last, but not least, a dietary plan for what Sydney should eat as soon as he can."

"So he didn't care..."

"Miss Parker, please!" Henry glared at the woman, his eyes glittering in frustration. "That's the most stupid thing I think you've probably ever said. Of course he cares - too much. If he didn't care, Jarod would still be here, still pretending to be a doctor. Stop trying to make your actions sound better by adapting his feelings to suit them."

Broots waited for a storm of words that he expected to follow this, but there was no response. His sister looked up. "Are you happy for me to leave Debbie here, or do you want me to keep her with me?"

"Are you leaving, too?"

"Yes." Emily turned to Miss Parker. "I'm going to see if I can find him - or he might have got in contact with Dad."

"Or you might be able to find Mom."

"It's possible, yes." She got to her feet. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Thanks, Em." Broots hugged her. "And if we hear from him, I'll let you know."

"Good." The woman picked up her bag and bent down to hug Debbie. "Be good for your dad, sweetie."

"I always am, Auntie."

"I know." Emily smiled and left the apartment. Broots walked over to the window and waved as she got into a car and drove off. Then he turned.

"Parker, we need to go back to the Centre."

She stared at him. "Are you mad?"

"No, but that trail I set for Lyle is going to run out by tomorrow, at the latest, and it wouldn't take us more than three days to go through a city of this size, even with just three of us."

"Two," she corrected immediately.

"They don't know there's only two. They think Sydney was working with us," the man retorted.

"But we can't leave..."

"Why not?" Broots demanded. "What good are we doing by being here? Besides, Jarod's not here, so there's no problem with the Centre knowing about Sydney being sick. We go back, say he fell ill during the search, but we got somebody to take care of him, and we'll probably get time off to come back and look after him. After all, the way we feel about him isn't exactly a big secret."

She looked at him closely. "And are you going to come back here with me or stay and get that transfer of yours?"

"I'll come back. When Sydney's better, then..."

"So how am I supposed to even come close to catching Jarod without you there to help?" she interrupted in frustration.

"You'll get another technician, Miss Parker. Put in your application and I’m sure that you'll find somebody. Probably somebody who doesn't jump three feet in the air each time you walk into the room, but I'm sure you'll be able to train them to do so." Broots glanced up at her from his examination of the floor. "I'll hand over all of my things and they can take up where I left off."

"But you'll keep in contact with Jarod."

"Only as much as you or Sydney did. We've been sending emails back and forth intermittently for the last two years but we've hardly ever seen each other. That’s not going to change." He caught Henry's eye and tried to smile. "Jarod's won’t risk his own safety, mine or Debbie's by turning up at my house for afternoon tea every Sunday, will he?"

"But..."

The conversation was interrupted as Broots' phone rang. Quickly answering it, the technician already believed he knew the identity of his caller.

"Jarod? Is that you?"

"Lyle just got back to the Centre."

"You're not with him, are you?"

There was a pause. "No. I didn't do that."

"But you thought about it."

"Stop reading my mind, little brother. It'll make me too easy to catch."

"Emily's looking for you."

"She won't find me."

"Jarod, don't do anything stupid. Please. If anything happened to you, it’d devastate Mom."

There was another pause. "All right, Broots."

At this point, Miss Parker snatched the phone out of his hand. "Jarod? Jarod, I..." She looked over, lowering the device.

"He hung up?" the technician proposed.

"Yes."

"He's still angry with you." Henry looked up from his seat on the sofa. "And I can't say I blame him."

Miss Parker paused for a moment before looking over at Broots. "We need to get back to the Centre."

***

"That didn't take long."

"They didn't need much persuasion." Broots grinned at Nicholas as he stood at the stove and stirred a saucepan. "And Miss Parker didn't give them time to say a lot anyway."

"No," Nicholas responded with a smile. "She wouldn't."

"What are you doing?"

"Making something for Dad to eat."

"He's hungry?"

"Not really, but Jarod's letter suggested it’s probably time to give him a light meal." Nicholas sighed. "I just wish he was here so that we'd know if we were doing the right thing."

"So call in somebody else,” Broots suggested. “That is your prerogative."

"I... I suggested that to Mom, but..." Nicholas turned off the heat and then looked over at the technician. "Somehow it feels like betraying Jarod to do that."

Broots nodded understandingly. "Now you know how I've been feeling, ever since I found out that he’s my brother."

Nicholas nodded slowly. "Do you think he knew that would happen?"

"Probably,” the technician admitted. “Jarod's very good at working out consequences."

"Nicholas?"

The two men turned to see Henry in the doorway, holding a letter.

"What is it?"

"This just came for you, special delivery."

Broots watched as the young man took the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the single page and unfolding it, his eyes running quickly over the words.

"Well?"

"Directions for how we'll know whether Dad's ready to eat what I've made or if we need to wait longer." Nicholas gave the note to Broots, smiling faintly. "He's not just ‘very good at working out consequences’. I think your brother's psychic as well."

Mysterious Connections
Part 5

"Come on, Sydney, a little more,” Michelle urged. “There's only this one left."

The man swallowed with difficulty and then looked up at his son. "Not bad…"

"Thanks, Dad!" The young man's tones were sarcastic, and produced a faint smile on the sick man's face. "It was my best effort, too!"

"You'll... get better. Get Broots to... show you..."

"As long as you try to sleep again."

Sydney nodded slightly and then closed his eyes, his fingers tightening briefly around those of the woman sitting beside him, before he relaxed, as Michelle replaced the mask. Taking away the empty bowl, Nicholas left the room, his gaze meeting that of the man who sat on the sofa.

"How did he know you were here?" the younger man demanded softly, pulling the door shut.

"He's probably heard my voice at some time over the last few days."

"But he didn't ask about..."

"I know." Broots sighed heavily. "I really hope Jarod doesn't..." The technician closed his eyes briefly, as the phone rang, and then reached forward to answer it, but Nicholas quickly picked up the receiver.

"Jarod?"

"How's he doing?"

"He ate everything. I think he's getting better."

"Good." There was a pause. "I'm very glad for you, Nicholas."

Hearing the dial tone, the young man replaced the receiver and looked at the man opposite.

"He wouldn't...?"

"He as good as promised, and promises mean a lot to him. I don't think he'd do anything." Broots stood up. "Come on, let's get something ready for your father to eat later."

***

"Two whole days and he hasn't called," the woman muttered as she stared at the floor.

"He might not, not now."

"And why not?" Miss Parker turned and stared at Henry.

"Well, why would he? He knows after talking to Nicholas that Sydney's recovering and he'd be able to work out his progress. It's my guess he won't call again." Henry looked over at Broots, an expression of sympathy on his face. "I know you're worried about him, but I don't think he’d do anything - not until he's sure Sydney's definitely better anyway."

There was a pause that lasted for several minutes, each person wondering what was going to happen afterwards. Finally it was broken.

"What about Lyle?"

"What about him? Miss Parker demanded as she looked over at Nicholas sharply.

"Does he know what's going on?"

"No. We didn't see him. We put in a report saying what happened and left again."

"Good." Nicholas stared at his hands. "I'd hate to think what Lyle might do to Dad, even in his current state, to get Jarod back."

***

"Is this everything?" the woman demanded, looking at the boxes and bags on the floor at their feet.

"Almost. We're leaving the humidifier, but we can take everything else back."

"You're sure?"

"No." Broots shook his head. "But Jarod is." He held up the letter briefly and then put it down again.

The drive to the medical provisions store was silent. As the two people walked in, their arms full, the man behind the counter looked up and smiled. "Miss Parker, Mr. Broots, I was hoping to see you soon."

"You... you know about...?" Despite herself, Miss Parker couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice and the man grinned.

"Well, sure. Doc Jarod said that I should expect you within a week of him coming by to pay for it all. You're right on time," The man reached down to pick up two small oxygen tanks, placing them on the counter. "He suggested you take those back with you, just in case. I'll refill them for you when you need them, but he thought they'd be a good security measure."

"Thanks." Broots put the bags he was carrying down on the bench and picked up one tank in each hand. "Do they work the same way as the others?"

"They sure do. Just fix the mask on like you did before and it'll be fine." The man bent down to pick up a box. "This is a few more, in case something happens to the others you've got, and there's also antibiotics that Doc asked me to give you, as well as some medication, like what you'd give to an asthmatic, just in case. He said you'd know when to give it to him."

Miss Parker reached out and took the box. "And there's nothing else to pay?"

"Not a penny. Doc took care of it a week ago, and he said that you'd probably be able to bring back the humidifier inside of another week, so I'll look forward to seeing you again then."

The two turned to the door but Broots looked back. "Can you tell me - exactly when did Jarod come by to pay for all that?"

"It was Tuesday. He was waiting outside the store when I arrived at work at eight and paid for it all real quick before going again. I guess he didn't want that to leave patient of his alone for too long though, right?"

"Yes," agreed Broots quietly. "That's right."

***

"So he was still around when we got up?" Miss Parker suggested.

"And longer." Henry looked up. "I went to pay my rent today and got chatting with Steve, the landlord. It seems that after Jarod paid for everything at the equipment store, he went to see Steve and paid the rent on this apartment for the next month. He paid my rent for the same length of time."

"Why didn't we think he'd still be around?" She stood up from her chair and began to pace the room, eventually stopping to glare around at the other occupants. "What on earth stopped us from going out to hunt for him?

"And you think he would just have let you find him, Miss Parker?" Broots looked over at her. "Believe me, he'd have been even better concealed than he was when we were chasing him. None of us would have laid eyes on him."

At this juncture, the door of the bedroom opened, and Nicholas came out with an empty bowl in his hands.

"How is he?"

"Well, he's not complaining about my cooking anymore."

Broots smiled. "And did you tell him that you were responsible for that, or did you let me take credit for it again?"

"No, I told him." Nicholas paused. "He wants to talk to you."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh huh. He said he walked to talk to you when you had a minute."
The technician got up and walked over to the door immediately, pushing it open and entering the bedroom. As the man walked in, Michelle stood up and kissed Sydney on the forehead before leaving.

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot better." The voice was still somewhat rough, but familiar enough for Broots to sit in the chair beside the bed with a smile.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I wanted to thank you for your help."

"Syd, you don't have to. I was happy to be able to do something."

"When did you get here?"

"Four hours or so after you first collapsed, apparently. I tracked Jarod through his call to Miss Parker." Broots eyed the other man closely as he said the name, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Does the Centre know? That I'm sick, I mean."

The technician leaned back in his chair, looking at the other man warily for a moment, before responding. "We handed in a report, but 'accidentally' wrote in the wrong location so that we'd have a while before they found out where we are."

Sydney's eyes twinkled as he asked the next question. "Have you applied for that transfer yet, or will you wait until you get back?"

Broots jaw dropped. "How on earth...?"

"…Did I know?" Sydney laughed, but his chest constricted and he had to cough to clear it. At the sound, Michelle reappeared and Broots stood up.

"I'm going to help Nicholas get something for lunch, Syd. We can finish this some other time."

***

"Hey, Broots!"

The man jumped slightly and turned around. "What?"

"I just nearly made what you told me was an unforgivable sin of cookery, and you didn't say a word."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"About?"

Broots leaned against the bench, his arms folded on his chest, watching the younger man mix something in a large bowl. "Several things."

"Your brother."

"That was one of them, yes. I get the feeling Sydney knows about it, but I can't figure out how he would."

"Would Jarod have...?"

"I don't know why he would have told him. If he knew then the fact that I'm trying to transfer to Corporate would be obvious. If he doesn't, he must have heard me say something about it to Miss Parker."

"You're not the only one making that plan, Broots."

The man eyed her as Miss Parker appeared in the kitchen doorway. "You're going to ask your father if you can transfer back and you think he'll just let you, considering he was the one who took you out of there and put you on the pursuit in the first place?"

"And why would you be allowed to if I'm not?"

"Two reasons. First, my skills are replaceable. Your connection with Jarod isn't, except maybe in Sydney. Second, even without taking into consideration the fact that he's my brother, I now have an emotional involvement with him and don't feel capable of being objective in my work any longer. I feel that I'm able to serve the Centre much better in an area where my work isn't affected by how I feel about it. When I presented those facts to the Triumvirate, they believed them to be satisfactory, provided you knew. Considering the history that you two have, I don't think either of those excuses will be allowed in your case."

"But why shouldn't I be able to get a transfer if it's so easy for you?" The woman pulled a high stool over and sat on it, leaning back against the opposite wall and staring at the technician.

"Because I don't think your father will let you. He must have had a reason for you being put on the pursuit in the first place and unless you can work out what that was and work with it I don't think you've got a chance."
Miss Parker looked over at Nicholas. "How long before Sydney's well enough for us to get out of here?"

"It should only be another couple of days." Nicholas paused for a moment, wiping the flour off his fingers. "But there's a point Mom and I want to discuss with you both, and this is probably as good a time as any."

"What's up?"

"Mom's concerned that this might have left permanent damage."

"In what way?"

Broots looked at Miss Parker. "Pneumonia can damage the lung surfaces and cause lesions or create scar tissue. That means the amount of air Sydney can take in from now on could be reduced."

She raised an eyebrow. "How do you know so much about it?"

"Several files appeared in my email and I did a little more research."

"You never told me he..."

"Miss Parker, there were five files attached to an email that had no text within it at all and the subject of 'pneumonia'. What else is there for me to tell you?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Nicholas. "What's your concern?"

"Well," Nicholas looked from the technician to the woman who sat opposite. "It's just that Dad does a lot of flying with work, and it could be dangerous if his lungs were damaged. All those long hours in the car and pollution-filled traffic won't be very healthy either."

Broots nodded slowly and looked up. "What's your solution?"

"That Dad stops chasing Jarod. The only problem is that I don't know how you could make the Centre believe it was necessary."

"I think I can solve that problem for you."

The three people looked up to find Henry in the doorway, a folder in his hand and a smile on his face. "This was just this delivered to me."

He came over and placed the folder down on the table, opening it to show a letter in familiar handwriting. Broots picked it up and read through it quickly.

"Well?"

"A medical recommendation that Sydney no longer be involved with any travel in his work. His proposal is for Sydney to be given a job with regular hours, located solely within the Centre."

"We can't hand that in." Miss Parker sat back on the chair, rolling her eyes. "They'd recognize his handwriting." Her lips curled into a slight sneer. "Obviously he's slipping."

"Is that so?" Broots jumped in before Henry could respond to this and picked up a long sealed envelope, waving it in her direction. "So how do you explain this typed version he included for the Triumvirate?" Broots read through the other page and then at the woman who had cleared her face of expression and sat silently watching him. "He also provides the name of another doctor for us to contact."

Miss Parker got up from her seat. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

***

"If you wouldn't mind waiting for a few moments, Dr. Burke will see you just as soon as he's finished with his current patient."

"Thank you." Broots sat down on one of the chairs in the second consulting room, and Miss Parker started to pace the floor. He looked up. "If the three of us get transferred away, that'll leave Lyle in charge of the pursuit."

"He'll be pretty happy about that."

"Until he doesn't hear anything from Jarod, and has no idea of his location."

Miss Parker looked at him with narrow eyes. "You think that's going to happen?"

"Yes." Broots nodded slowly. "He said, when we first got there that if Sydney died, the Centre would never find him again - no more clues, no more games, no more 'sightings'. I think that's what..."

"He's not dead, Broots." Her voice was sharp.

"No, but I think that's what Jarod will try to convince himself is true. He won't admit that he’s jealous of Michelle, and especially Nicholas, but it's been eating away at him, especially since Michelle's husband died. I think Jarod will try to convince himself that Sydney never existed." Broots stared at the floor for several seconds before looking back at her. "I don’t think Lyle will have any idea of where my brother is, until someone finds his bod..."

"Stop!" Miss Parker stared at the wall in front of her for a few minutes. "Jarod said he wouldn't do anything stupid."

"Working yourself to death isn't stupid; not in his eyes. Nor is being so focused on your work that you don't pay proper attention to yourself."

"You think that's what...?"

"Well, he sure won't commit suicide."

"Miss Parker, Mr. Broots?"

The two people turned to see an older man in the doorway and he walked over to sit down at the desk. "My name's Dr. James Burke. Jarod said you'd both be likely to come to see me at some point today."

"How much did he tell you?" the woman demanded.

"He gave me a quick run-down of Sydney's current condition and medical history. He asked if I’d give you these." The man produced a large envelope. "This contains two full sets of chest x-rays. We all know that they're not Sydney's, but not too many other people would be able to tell that. They're from a patient who had very bad case of pneumonia about eight weeks ago, and was about Sydney's age and size. One lot of scans was taken when the pneumonia was first diagnosed; the other is from the same patient now. He has a number of lesions and a few patches of scarring. That should be sufficient to prove to the people at your place of work that Sydney has to cease any activity that might put stress on his lungs."

"It's possible that this might bring people here to confirm that with you," Broots told him.

Dr. Burke smiled. "I understand that, but I owe Jarod a big favor and if I can repay him in any way, it'll be worth it. As far as they'll be told, I was called in by a local medical colleague to act as a consultant on Sydney's case. If they're really keen, that local colleague will tell the same story."

Miss Parker looked up. "When was Jarod here?"

The doctor glanced at his watch. "He left about two and a half hours ago."

"I guess,” Broots tried to speak lightly. “He didn't mention where he was going?"

"No, I'm afraid he didn’t. Jarod just said he'd been in one spot long enough and wanted to get away for a while." The doctor smiled. "Now, was there anything else?"

***

"Miss Parker?"

The woman looked up to see Michelle standing in the doorway and smiled at her. "What can I do for you?"

"Sydney wants to see you."

Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"He said so."

Nodding, Miss Parker walked into the bedroom and shut the door. Going over to the bed, she sat on the chair next to it and touched the hand of the man who lay there.

"Syd?"

"You have to tell him you're sorry, Parker." Sydney opened his eyes and lifted a hand to push off the mask that was still over his mouth and nose. She reached out to try and restrain him.

"If you need it, leave it there."

"I don't. Not right now. Maybe later." He pushed it weakly to one side, but his gaze was firmly fixed on her. "Unless you tell him you're sorry for what you said, it's going to destroy your friendship."

"What friendship?" Miss Parker sat back in the chair, eyeing Sydney skeptically. "We haven't been friends for years. All he does is irritate me by sending annoying presents and dangling tit bits of information about my family in front of my face."

The man nodded slowly. "Your father's almost succeeded in what he's tried to do since Jarod escaped."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you...?"

"Why do you think you were put on the pursuit, Parker? Your father always knew what kind of a person Jarod was and probably suspected that after he escaped he'd provide clues to keep his hunters close - security in a world that he knew nothing about - but make the hints difficult enough to be irritating. And your father knew how quickly you'd get annoyed by it all."

Sydney paused for a moment to take a breath, but something in his eyes stopped the woman from speaking. "Jarod's always tried to reach out to you, to regain the relationship you used to have as children, but the distance imposed by your very different lives made that hard. When he told you that I was dying..."

"How do you know?"

"I asked Henry. Besides, I know Jarod and how he would react in circumstances like that. And I know you. Jarod only did what he was taught do to: he pushed aside his own feelings to help others. If you’ll think back to the first SIM I showed you - the last one he performed inside the Centre," Sydney took another deep breath, "he wouldn't have been able to find out the cause of the plane crash if he'd been focusing on what he felt about it. He was trained to push aside his own feelings and concentrate on those of others - like you."

"That's what he said, too," she admitted grudgingly.

"Parker, do you remember what you said about Jarod when we first went to his room during the first few days of the pursuit, before you found the origami figure of Onysius and I showed you that SIM?"

She nodded, unwilling to repeat her own words, and saw the amused look of comprehension in Sydney's eye.

"You've spent the past five years denying that Jarod could have feelings like a normal person, and then, when he’s trying to hide them so that he can help you to deal with yours, you blame him for not having any." He smiled faintly. "That's not really fair, Parker."

"So what should I do?” she demanded. “When I talked to him, he hung up on me, and we've got no idea where he is now."

"No." Sydney paused thoughtfully. "And you won't find him unless he wants you to."

"Great!" Miss Parker stood up and began to pace the room, glancing over her shoulder at the man in the bed. "So now you're trying to make me feel guilty with no way of getting rid of it? That's exactly what..."

"Parker." Sydney's tone was warning. "Don't say that it's 'exactly what' Jarod's done to you for the last five years, because it isn't."

"So what do I do?" She sank back into the chair beside the bed.

"Get a transfer to Corporate, too."

Her eyes widened. "How on earth...?"

"I heard you and Broots saying something about it. Besides, I've suspected he'd do that ever since I found out they were brothers."

"How did you know?"

"I..." The man tried to take another breath, but he choked and was forced to cough in order to clear his chest. His voice, once he was lying back against the pillow, was weak, but his eyes were still trained on her face. "I spent more than thirty years with one and five with the other. Don't you think I’d be able to spot a few similarities? When I did, I wanted to know why, so I did a little hunting and found out. I've been aware of it for almost as long as they have."

***

"Broots here."

"Congratulations, little brother. Your transfer finally came through. You start at your new job in Corporate as soon as you get back to the Centre. Oh, and as a bonus, you get every Sunday off to spend with Debbie."

"Jarod, how on earth...?"

"Did I know?"

There was a sound that Broots could tell was meant to be a laugh on the other end, but, being unlike any other noise he had ever heard the pretender make, it rang strangely in his ears and the technician visibly winced.

"If you have the power to read my mind, surely I can read yours. Besides, since Dragon Lady knows now, we don't have any more reason to keep it secret. You aren't the only person who wasn't happy about this situation, you know."

"Jarod, she's..."

"How's Sydney?" the man on the other end interrupted hurriedly.

"He's getting better, Jarod."

"Yes, I thought he would." The voice on the other end became suddenly hard, as if the words were being forced out. "There'll be an ambulance there in two days to drive him back to Blue Cove. If it's too soon, they'll come back next week. It's all been paid for. Or if he wants, he can go to Albany."

"Jarod..." Broots closed his eyes briefly as the dial tone sounded in his ear. Disconnecting the call, he dropped the phone into his pocket and stared blankly out of the window.

Mysterious Connections
Part 6

Miss Parker settled herself into the chair in Michelle's living room and glanced at Broots. "Now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you got your transfer, Sydney's been given the go-ahead to focus on other projects, not the pursuit, and that leaves Lyle and me."

"Hey, if I can chase my brother for five years, surely you can work with yours."

They both heard the restrained, somewhat breathy laughter that followed this statement and Broots jumped to his feet, helping the older man over to the sofa. When he was settled against the cushions, and Broots was sitting down again, Sydney looked up.

"I don't understand your problem, Parker. You want to transfer, so do it."

"Great, Syd. It's so easy, sitting here and talking about it, but I get this strange feeling that it'll be marginally more tricky when I have to put the application in to my father."

He smiled. "Not if we show him that he's achieved the aim for which he had you put onto the chase in the first place."

"To break up our 'friendship', as you put it."

"Precisely."

"And how do we go about doing that?"

Sydney leaned back against the seat. "Parker, do you remember the first day you and Jarod met?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Great, the history of my life encapsulated into ninety seconds."

"Answer the question, Parker!" the psychiatrist demanded sternly.

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded.

"The point of this being...?"

"There was an immediate connection between the two of you: every single person who was watching that simulation saw it, including your father. He wasn't happy about it and, although the Triumvirate wanted that to become a series of SIMs, he wouldn't allow it. It was the only time I ever saw him with your mother against the Triumvirate. But his reasons were different. His plan was for you become the perfect Centre operative, and you couldn't do that if you had an emotional bond to one of the 'projects', as he's always called them."

Sydney paused for a moment to take a breath, but neither of the other two people in the room spoke.

"He saw the friendship that built up between the two of you, and realized that Jarod, not he, was the person able to comfort you best after Catherine's supposed death."

"Did Daddy know about that?"

"Surprising as it may seem, no, not at the time. Raines wanted Ethan to himself, without Mr. Parker's interference, and that was why the whole thing had to be so elaborately staged. As far as either of you knew, Catherine was really dead."

"And then he sent me to Japan..."

"And you were brought back and sent in as a cleaner and up, through security, to Corporate. You had no contact with anybody who could act as reminder of your early years at the Centre, and that was the way he wanted it. Then Jarod escaped, and he saw it as an opportunity to expand on that point. He, along with most of the others at the top of the power tree, expected Jarod to be gone for a few weeks, or perhaps at most months. It's his ability to blend in, and to push the emotional buttons of all three of us," he paused, looking meaningfully at the other people in the room, before continuing, "that's kept him out in the world so long."

"This isn't helping me get a transfer back to Corporate," the woman stated flatly, drumming her fingers impatiently on the armrest of her chair.

"Yes, it is, Parker. Don't you see, if you produce enough proof to convinced him that you're so fed up with the games and hints Jarod keeps dropping about your life and your family that you want out - if, in short, you show your father how angry Jarod has made you over the past five years, he would have no reason to doubt that his plan had worked."

"And he'd happily send you back to Corporate, believing that his daughter was as much under his thumb as you've been since the pursuit started," the technician added.

Sydney nodded in Broots' direction before turning back to Miss Parker. She was staring at the floor, but slowly raised her eyes. He watched the conflict of emotion on her face, before she smiled.

"Where do I start?"

"We wait until you get a few more of those little presents from Jarod," the younger man stated calmly.

"Wonderful!" The woman threw her hands in the air. "Like he'll send things to me, considering how much he hates me right now. We're beaten before we even begin!"

"I never said he had to send the presents, Miss Parker." Broots smiled. "You’re right, he's not going to send anything from now on. But we can make it seem as if it's still happening. You've still got all the notes he sent, and, if we can't use them to produce our own messages, I think we're in the wrong line of work."

"Are the genetics finally rubbing off, Broots?" the psychiatrist suggested.

The technician tried to look indignant. "What do you mean 'finally', Syd?"

Sydney smiled and then turned to Miss Parker. "We make the presents appear to be of a very personal nature, you rant and storm several times in your office – it's something that I believe you're rather good at - and you go to your father saying that you've had it and want out."

"And it'll be that easy?" The woman looked skeptical and Sydney smiled.

"We won't know until we try."

***

Broots looked up and watched as the woman walked past his office. A grin on his face, he got up and moved to the doorway.

"Looking for something, Miss Parker?"

"Just my office. They've moved things since I was last working here."

He waved at the door they were standing in front of. "It's right opposite mine, so I guess you can keep up your old habit of storming in to make me leap out of my chair every five minutes, just like the good old days."

There was a dry chuckle from behind the technician and Miss Parker tried to look over Broots’ shoulder. "Who...?"

"Sydney dropped by before he headed home. Come on in."

He led the way into the room and seated himself behind the desk, watching Miss Parker eye the various gadgets on the desk in front of her, as she sat down beside the psychiatrist. "Are you working or starting a scrap metal collection?"

The technician grinned. "No, these are all my new toys. I've been teaching myself how to use them - with a little help." He pulled out a hand-written manual and put it down on the table in front of her. She stared at it for a moment, immediately recognizing the clear, bold writing, and then looked up at him.

"How did he know?"

"Probably the same way he knew my transfer went through, if he didn't somehow arrange that himself. Jarod probably did a little hacking and found out what my first Corporate assignments were, then he set out to give me a hand."

Sydney's face grew serious as he looked up. "Actually, Parker, Jarod designed most of those, so it's not really surprising that he'd know best how to use them."

Miss Parker let out a long, slow breath before turning to face the older man. "I want you to tell me something."

"I'll tell you anything that I know the answer to, as long as I won’t have to betray anyone else's confidence," Sydney responded, sitting back in his chair and waited for the first question.

As Miss Parker was about to speak, however, the phone on the desk rang, and the technician turned on the speaker.

"Broots here."

"How do you like your new toys?" enquired a deep, tired-sounding voice.

"I want to know how you came up with the ideas, big brother."

"It's amazing what you can do when someone else is getting the money." Jarod's tones were suddenly hard. "I hope the book's useful."

"Well, I haven't had much chance to look yet. I only found it this morning." Broots hesitated. "I hope you didn't get cold, creeping through the air vents last night."

There was a sound similar to that Broots had heard before, and, even as he tried not to wince at the attempted laugh, the technician tried to gauge Sydney's response, but the psychiatrist's face remained expressionless. A moment later the man on the other end of the phone replied.

"I know that you've only had all of the gadgets since yesterday so it was good timing, huh?"

"As always." He glanced up, catching the eye of the seated woman opposite. "Jarod, there’s a person else here who wants to talk to you."

Suddenly the man's tones gave the impression of dripping with ice and, as they had before, it sounded as if the words were being forced out. "Oh, so the Ice Queen makes office calls now? It's not all that surprising, I guess, considering her office is directly opposite yours. Well, I've got nothing to say to her except that I hope she's satisfied now, back where she belongs, trying to claw her way up the ladder. If her nails are only half as sharp as her tongue, she ought to be back sharing top rung with 'Daddy' in no time."

"Jarod, please..."

The dial tone interrupted the sentence, and Miss Parker shut her eyes briefly as Broots turned off the machine. Then she looked at Sydney.

"How do I get through that?"

"Parker, it wasn't too long ago that you were looking skeptical at my suggestion that you were friends. I think you need to work out what you want from him, before you start trying to make him change the way he feels about you. When you know that, you'll have a better idea of what to say to him, and how to say it. Considering the things you said, Jarod's probably trying to show you that he does have feelings - and that you've hurt them."

She nodded slowly and then looked over at him sharply. "It just occurred to me - what are you doing here?"

"Was that what you wanted me to tell you before?"

"No, but it's a good start."

Sydney smiled. "I had a meeting with the Triumvirate this morning to clarify all the information from my 'doctor', but I'm still officially off work. I can start back as soon as I feel ready to do so."

"I didn't think the Centre medical scheme was that flexible."

"It isn’t. I'm not officially employed at the Centre right now. I’ll start my 'new' job when I come back from recovering."

"Are you coping for money?"

"Among my letters yesterday was a check for the same amount as I got from the Centre each week. I have a feeling that they'll continue, at least until I start back at work again."

"And when will that be?"

"No idea." Sydney shrugged. "I'm going to be spending a week with Michelle and Nicholas, at their insistence. After that, I've got something else I need to do, but when that's finished, I'll be back."

Broots looked up sharply. "This 'something else' wouldn't have anything to do with my brother, would it?"

"It might." Sydney smiled faintly. "Shall I tell him you said hello?"

"How will you find him, Syd?" Broots' face revealed his skepticism. "He won’t want to see you, any more than he wants to see the rest of us. Debbie told me yesterday she hasn't even been getting the little presents he's sent her ever since he found out about the family connection."

"He's still calling you."

"A lot less than he used to email me." Broots' expression became worried. "I tried to email him yesterday and it was sent back, saying the email address didn't exist anymore."

Sydney nodded as he rose to his feet. "He's cutting himself off from us. Jarod's trying to deny that his life at the Centre ever even happened."

"And what are you going to do?"

The psychiatrist had turned to the door but, at the question, he looked back over his shoulder, his face wearing a determined expression. "Remind him that it did."

***

"Dad, can I talk to you?"

Sydney looked up from his book with a smile. "Of course you can, Nicholas. Do you have to ask?"

"Well, I thought..." The young man hesitated in the doorway for a moment, before coming into the room.

"Sit down." Sydney closed the thick volume, placed it on the table at his right hand and waved at an armchair opposite. "We might as well be comfortable."

"Are you?" Nicholas shut the door and then glanced at the blanket in which Sydney was wrapped as he sat in another chair in front of a roaring fire.

"To be honest, I think I'm about to overheat, but don't tell your mother. She's been worrying so much about me that I don't want to sound ungrateful."

The younger man laughed, before speaking. "She's not the only one who's been worried."

"That was never my intention."

Nicholas tried not to smile. "I don't think anyone ever intends to get sick, Dad."

Sydney laughed. "Actually, I meant that I wasn't the one who was responsible for calling and telling you about me."

"I'm glad he did."

"So am I. It's given us this chance to get to know each other properly, much more so than on other occasions."

"Well, we didn't have much time in that room with Lyle, that's for sure."

"And it was hard to talk when the helicopter was taking off."

The two men smiled at each another for a minute before Nicholas became serious. "Actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about."

Sydney looked startled. "Lyle?"

"Jarod."

"Ah."

Raising an eyebrow, Nicholas leaned forward. "What do you mean by 'ah'?" he demanded.

"I've been waiting for this."

Nicholas sat back in the chair and looked over at his father suspiciously. "You're not going to psychoanalyze me, are you?"

"Only if you’ll agree to pay my bill,” Sydney responded, his eyes twinkling. “But be warned, I’ll charge a lot. Especially being unemployed."

The younger man laughed. "And if I don't agree to pay?"

"Then I suppose this will just have to be a normal conversation." Sydney hid a smile. "It's just that I'm out of practice, so I was hoping..."

"If I ever need to see a psychiatrist, I think I'd rather choose someone who's not my father. No offence intended."

"None taken. I wouldn't really want to do it anyway."

"But you're going to have to."

Sydney narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how else will you break down the emotional defenses Jarod's been building up against you since he left?"

Sydney looked at his son in mock-respect, his eyes dancing with laughter. "You've really been paying attention in those psychiatry lectures, haven't you?"

"Well, I figured it’d help when I start working with my kids again." Nicholas smiled. "Besides, it helps me to understand you more."

"So between you and Michelle, I'll be completely understood."

"You've already got someone who understands you."

"Yes," Sydney responded softly. "I think that's true."

"But does Jarod know that?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, why didn't you ask where he was when he wasn't beside your bed, the day that he left? Why didn't you ask if he ever called to see how you were?" Nicholas leaned back in his chair and eyed his father. "At first I got the idea that it was just because you were too sick to realize who was there and who wasn’t, but then you got better and you still didn't ask about him. I wanted to mention Jarod - just slip his name into the conversation - to see how you'd react, but I couldn't find any way to do it. Then I heard Broots say his name, and I listened to hear what you’d say, but you still acted like he'd never even been there."

Sydney half-smiled. "You didn't really believe that?"

"Not considering how much he did for you, no. But I wasn't sick, so I could see all the work he put in." Nicholas got out of his chair and went over to the desk, opening a drawer and taking out an envelope, returning to his chair. "The letter he wrote was almost fifteen full pages, with just about every possibility for anything that might happen to you, described in minute detail. I couldn't believe it - he'd come up with ideas I'd never have had in a million years!"

"Nicholas, that's what he was trained to do."

"Oh, come on, Dad." The younger man looked skeptical. "Do you really think that he'd go to so much effort for anybody else?"

"I don't say that, but Jarod was trained from the age of four to think about every possibility for every situation. For you to be able to care for me effectively, after he was gone, it meant that you had to be aware of them too."

"But it's so clinical." Nicholas pulled the pages out, flipping through them. "He doesn't mention you by name once. It's all 'the patient' and 'the invalid'. If I was in his situation - and I know I'm not, and I could never fully understand it, but if I had been - I couldn't write like that, not about someone I care as much about as he obviously cares about you. Not as much as I care about you now. It would just be too hard, much too hard."

"It was hard for him, Nicholas."

"How do you know?"

Sydney arched an eyebrow. “You don't think he knocked over a glass of water while he was writing the tenth page, do you?'

"So you know about that?"

"I've read it – several times, actually. And you're not totally accurate in what you said before. There are a number of possibilities not written out in full, but he hints at those, and, if they’d happened, you'd probably have picked up on them."

"How do you...?"

"You forget that I trained Jarod. I know how his mind works."

Nicolas picked up on the word at once. "Is he a person or an animal?"

Sydney nodded slowly. "That's a good point. Another, equally good, would be 'is he a person or a machine'? Those are both important things that we need to address when I see him."

"And you're so sure that you'll find him?"

"I'm not going to stop until I do."

Nicholas returned the letter to the envelope and put it on the table in front of him, staring at it blankly for several moments before resuming his seat and slowly lifting his eyes to look at his father. "Can you explain something to me?"

"If I know the answer," Sydney responded cautiously.

"When we had that conversation at the hospital, when..."

There was a moment of silence. Eventually the older man broke it.

"When your father was dying, yes." Sydney paused. "Nicholas, he was still your father and he has as much right to that title as I do."

Nicholas slowly nodded. "When we talked about that and I asked you if you ever felt the same way about anyone as Dad felt about me, that 'boy' you mentioned was Jarod, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," his father admitted.

"I thought so." Nicholas paused. Before he could speak again, however, Sydney interrupted.

"I want you to tell me something."

"Go ahead."

"How do you feel about Jarod?"

"Me?" The younger man looked startled. "How do I fit into this?"

"You're my son, Nicholas. Of course you 'fit into this'. But, once I help Jarod get over with his jealousy of you, I don't want to find that you're jealous of him."

"Dad, I'm not!"

"So what do you feel about him? I know it seems a hard question when the two of you have hardly been in the same room together, but you must have some idea of what, if anything, he means to you now."

The younger man hesitated for a few moments. "I can't start with Jarod. It didn't start with him. It began with you, and I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding kind of cruel."

"Try, Nicholas. I'll understand, I promise."

"Okay." He sighed. "When I first saw you at the hospital, I was a little confused by it all – Dad was dying, and I could remember you from when you'd been outside my school, but I couldn't find a connection between them. Then I overheard all you said and we had that conversation. I didn't know anything about you and it felt like I was being forced to accept a second father before I'd even lost the first one. The discussion helped but it took time. I'd only just started to get rid of the worst of the anger when Lyle kidnapped us."

He paused for a moment, but Sydney remained understandingly silent.

"When Jarod turned up, I couldn't help seeing both Lyle and your reactions to him. And, when I heard you ask him if it had to be that way, I could hear the tone of your voice, similar to the way I sometimes speak, and right away I knew what your feelings were. Of course, I didn't know what Jarod was capable of, but I remember seeing your face when he went out the back door. This sounds a little weird, but you looked so proud of him, and I was kind of jealous then, because I suddenly wanted you to feel the same way about me. That’s why I introduced Seph to you as my Dad. As time passed, though, and we got to know each other better, that feeling of jealousy faded."

Nicholas stared at his hands for a moment before looking up again as Sydney waited.

"When Jarod called, he didn't say he thought you were dying, only that, as you were really sick, we should come as fast as possible. Somehow, when we got there, I understood exactly how he felt, particularly as he didn’t – couldn't – even look at us when we appeared. Still, if I hadn't had that feeling when we first got there, I wouldn't have been able to tell from the way he behaved later. He was completely professional - the same as the doctors had been when Dad was dying - but Jarod still managed to show his sympathy towards us both for what was happening, and he seemed to know what I was feeling before I felt it myself." The young man glanced at his father. "Would he have known?"

"Yes." Sydney nodded definitively. "Jarod knew how you were feeling, because he felt exactly the same way."

"I thought that might have been it." There was a moment of silence. "When he disappeared, I really couldn't understand how he could do it, how he could go like that, when you were sick. Then I sat down to read his letter. Somehow, despite how distant it was, I got an idea of what he was feeling when he wrote it, but it wasn't until later that I realized it was because I’d have felt the same. I put myself in his situation and knew why he left. It sounds weird, but I think I may have done the same if our situations had been reversed. I can't say for sure, but maybe."

Nicholas hesitated for a minute before continuing, finding it difficult to explain exactly what he wanted to say.

"Now, although I understood how Jarod felt about you and how I felt about you, I couldn't take it that step further to work out what I felt about him. Then I suggested to Mom that we should call in another doctor, just to be sure that we weren't going to do you more harm than good by feeding you too soon or something like that, but even as I was saying it, I got a feeling kind of like I was betraying Jarod. Then I talked to Broots, and he said he felt the same ever since he found out that Jarod was his brother. I realized that I've begun to think about Jarod in that way too, almost like my older brother, and your son, too. Looking back at everything we’ve been through, I can see I've felt like that ever since I was kidnapped." Nicholas looked at his father. "It's a weird question, but is it all right to feel like that?"

Sydney smiled. "It's the way I was hoping you'd feel."

"And will you tell him that?"

"Do you want me to?"

"If it'll help. I was worried enough when he vanished, but that was about you, not him. Once it hit me how I felt, I began to worry about him too." Nicholas glanced at his father. "I really want the chance to get to know Jarod, in the same way that he knows me."

There was a comfortable silence that extended for several minutes, before the younger man spoke again.

"After Lyle kidnapped us, why did Jarod come?"

"Because he wanted to."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Nicholas, Jarod only does what he wants to. It used to be possible to coerce him into things he didn't want to, but the Centre can't do it now. No can I. If he wants to turn up somewhere, then he will, and, if he doesn't, then he won't. It's as simple as that."

"But it isn't 'as simple as that.'" Nicholas got up and started to pace the room, his eyes on his father. "From the moment he appeared in that cabin and from the first words he said, I felt like he was there not because he wanted to be, but because he felt he had to be. It was as if his conscience wouldn't let him stay away."

"I think that's a fairly accurate statement, Nicholas."

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Sydney resettled himself in his chair and then looked up. "I don't think I ever told you this, but it was Jarod who told me about you."

"He did? When? Why?"

The psychiatrist smiled. "Jarod sent me some information about you - your birth certificate, to be exact - and I went to see your mother. That was a few days before I came to your school. She told me all about you." Sydney paused. "As for 'why', he probably felt that the knowledge was something I wouldn't to reject. And he was right."

Nicholas smiled briefly before sitting down once more, his brow furrowing. "Where's the link? How does this fit into Jarod feeling the need to protect me - us?"

"By bringing you into my life, and returning Michelle to me, it brought both of you back into the Centre's direct line of fire. They’d always known about you, of course, but if your mother didn't contact me, you were supposed to be safe. Although Lyle might have found out about you one day, it's not likely he would have abducted you if neither Jarod nor I knew of your existence. Arranging your kidnapping would have been pointless, because we wouldn't have turned up at the cabin, and his purpose in that was to catch Jarod, regardless of who got hurt in the process including you and me."

The younger man nodded slowly. "If he hadn't turned up..."

Sydney spoke softly "I don't think you want to know what Lyle might have done."

"So Jarod put himself in danger for me?"

"He was armed - being with the ATF meant he had to be - but being around Centre personnel is always dangerous for him."

"Centre personnel including you?"

"Not now, no."

"Was he ever?"

"Possibly once, yes." Sydney leaned back in his chair, his expression regretful. "For quite a while after Jarod escaped, I believed - or tried to convince myself - that he would be safer back at the Centre."

"Why?"

"The longer he's out, the further he moves away from the Triumvirate's 'perfect Pretender' and the Centre doesn't have a lot of use for people who can't be useful to them."

"And… are you in similar danger?"

"Only as much as your mother or I ever were, working there. Strange as it seems, I'm probably safer away from the pursuit team especially now they have so little chance of finding him, than I was when I was on it."

"How's Lyle going with that?"

Sydney looked faintly amused. "Badly. He's getting very frustrated at the hints that he's found recently. None of them have led anywhere."

"You mean Jarod's still leaving clues and things all the time?"

"Definitely not," Sydney stated firmly.

"So where are the hints coming from?"

The older man tried to hide a smile as he looked at his son. "Nicholas, let's just say that if they weren't being scattered around like they are, Lyle might spend more time up in Corporate and none of us want that."

Mysterious Connections
Part 7

The small hut was dark and quiet when the car stopped a short distance away, a man getting out of it. He walked over to the flimsy structure, pulling a torch out of his pocket and shining it in through a window. After several moments, he walked to the door and took a lockpick out of his pocket that he inserted into the keyhole, applying pressure until the lock yielded. The man turned the handle, gently pushing the door until it swung inwards with a loud creak.

Walking inside and locking the door behind him by the same method as he had opened it, the intruder looked around the first room before walking into the second one and opening the silent, dark fridge. He shook his head as he eyed the empty shelves, opening the kitchen cupboards and taking note of the lack of edible contents.

Returning to the main room, he saw a long, low shelf along one wall that bore a mattress, and on which lay a bag. Carefully placing the flashlight on the table to illuminate his actions, the man opened it. Worn black material was all the curious visitor found, and, as he looked through the contents, it became clear that clothes constituted the entire contents of the bag. He looked around the room again.

A laptop lay on the unsteady table and a second machine sat next to it, the top slightly raised. From this, a thin ray of light shone onto the sofa, and, turning off the flashlight, the man leaned forward, raising the lid. For a moment, he stared at the picture that appeared before his eyes, a young boy and a man kneeling on the ground in front of him, frozen in time. Gazing down at the image, the man's eyes visibly softened, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth before it vanished.

A second table in the corner caught the man's eye, and, again lighting the room with the torch, he went over and looked at the photos had been carefully laid out on it. The one in the middle was familiar to the intruder - a picture he had received permission to send to the shed's absent occupant several years before. Others, all of which were equally familiar, surrounded it, and the man's eyes took in the seven faces, including that of a man with whom the intruder had worked for five years.

Turning, the trespasser's gaze was caught by a ball of something on the floor that reflected the light. Bending, he retrieved the lump of congealed plastic, black bubbles interspersed with small flecks of color. Turning the object over, he looked down into the eyes of the man in the photo. The identification card was almost totally burnt away, but there was enough left for the man to be able to recognize the NASA logo in one corner. Pocketing the item, the intruder paused by the window for a moment before he switched off the light, at the same time closing the case as he sat down on the sofa.

Footsteps could clearly be heard approaching the building and the door was unlocked. A man stepped through the aperture, locking the door after him. With a stifled groan, he put the bag he was carrying on the floor. Turning, he removed the jacket that had protected him from bitter winds blowing around outside. As he tossed it onto the bed, the man on the sofa leaned forward and raised the top of the machine in front of him, thus illuminating the room enough for him to see the man abruptly turn towards him, his expression changing rapidly from surprise to horror.

"Sydney?!"

"Hello, Jarod."

"What are you... how did you find me?" Jarod took a step back, his hand reaching out for the coat.

"It wasn't easy," Sydney admitted, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table in front of him. "I want to talk to you."

"You may think you do..."

"Jarod, please. Would I have gone to all this trouble of finding you if I didn't want to talk?"

The younger man's expression hardened. "If it was that much trouble, you needn't have bothered. I can't possibly imagine what you would want to say to me."

"You had a good imagination once." Sydney nodded towards the screen in front of him. "Like then."

"Then isn't now." Jarod shrugged. "I was just reminiscing."

He stepped forward and closed the cover, before starting to pull the DSA player over the table towards himself. A hand came out of the darkness and attached itself to his wrist, halting the movement. Sydney's voice was quiet.

"I'm not physically capable of chasing you anymore, Jarod, but, no matter where you go, I will find you, so why not sit down now and listen to me?"

Sydney tightened his grasp on the man's wrist, gently pulling him around the table to the sofa, and watched as, eyes averted, Jarod sat down. Glancing at the hand he was still holding, the older man then looked up.

"When did you last eat, Jarod?"

The younger man paused. "Monday, I think." He shrugged. "Food's expensive."

"So are medical expenses when someone puts you into hospital to recover from malnutrition," the psychiatrist responded at once.

"And who'd do that?" the other man challenged.

"I have every intention of it."

Jarod pulled his hand away, folding it and the other over his chest. "You don't need to bother. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Until today, I would have agreed with that." Sydney reached forward and turned Jarod's face to where the moonlight shone through the window, seeing the black shadows under the man's eyes, and the new, deep lines in his cheeks and forehead, in addition to the protruding cheek and jaw bones. "All of a sudden, I'm not so sure."

"I'm all right!" Jarod got up from the sofa and went over to the other side of the room, leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded, his face hidden by the dark. "Stop worrying about me."

"I would if you could give me a reason to do so." The older man rested back against the sofa. "Are you working?"

"Of course," Jarod snapped, shrugging.

"Where?"

"A restaurant near here."

"'Near here'?" Sydney looked skeptical. "Jarod, the last house I passed in my car was almost fifteen minutes before I got here and the closest stores were probably twice as far again. I didn't hear a car pull up before you came in so I think it would be fair enough to say that you walk."

"Keeps me fit, now that I'm not being chased everywhere."

"And what do you do there? Cook?"

"No," Jarod admitted, somewhat unwillingly.

"So you're wasting your skills doing a job that a teenager could do? I thought you would have had more pride than that."

"I have to live," the younger man argued.

"On what? You're not eating, you don't pay rent, and, as far as I've seen from looking around, you haven't bought one single thing since you moved in here, so therefore I'll have to assume you have some other requirement for the money." Sydney pulled a slip of paper from his shirt pocket and placed it on the table. "Let me give this back to you. I don't need it."

"What would you say if I said I didn't send it?" the man opposite challenged.

"I'd say you were lying, Jarod, and you've never done that to me before, so please don't start now."

The younger man shrugged before turning to stare out of the window behind him as Sydney watched. After a silence of several moments, the psychiatrist spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

"You didn't need me anymore," Jarod retorted immediately.

"What about what you need, Jarod?"

"Since when do I matter?" Even in the faint half-light, Sydney could see the bitter half-twist of Jarod's lips which accompanied this statement, and was easily able to hear the change in the younger man's tones. "I'm just a subject, a lab-rat, an object to chase, that's it."

"Even if I was going to allow that, which I'm not, it doesn't mean you don't have needs as much as the rest of us do, and you told me that you needed me."

"You couldn't possibly have remembered that, not in your condition."

"No, you're right, I don't remember you saying it to me, although I've got no doubt you would have. But I was asked to translate those words from Flemish later."

In the dim light, Sydney could see Jarod's head nodding slowly, and also the angry sparkle of the young man's eyes. Reaching into his pocket, the older man pulled out the melted plastic ball and the flashlight, putting the ball on the table in front of him. The light from the torch was sufficient to illuminate the object and also to allow him a glimpse of the face opposite.

"Are you going to tell me why you did that?"

"I wanted to get rid of them. They're all illegal anyway, and if I'd been caught with them..."

"Who would have caught you, Jarod? Who would have found you here?"

"You did."

"I had a good idea of where to look."

"How?" the younger man demanded. "I haven't dropped clues at the Centre for weeks, nobody's seen me come back here at the end of the day..."

"I found you because I know you, and I had a good idea of what to look for. At the end of my 'research' I had a short list of possible places. This was the third."

"Congratulations," Jarod sneered. "I'm impressed."

Sydney ignored the tones and nodded at the misshapen item on the table in front of him. "Are you going to tell me why you did it? The real reason this time, Jarod, not something you think sounds good."

"I'll tell you what." Jarod's voice still contained a hint of a sneer. "Why doesn't the psychiatrist tell me why I did it?"

"All right, if it's easier for you." The man leaned forward. "You were trying to deny your past, your abilities. You were trying to block out the things you couldn't deal with." Sydney got up and walked over to the table, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jarod took several paces away, towards the middle of the room. He glanced at the photographs and then looked directly at the younger man. "That's what this is, too - an attempt to find something other than the Centre to fill your life."

"I've been trying to find my family for years," the younger man protested, somewhat weakly.

"But you aren't trying anymore. All I imagine that you do when you get home from work every day is sit and stare at these photos, trying to expand the feelings that you have for the people in them and trying to block out all the others."

"And those other feelings are?" Jarod shot back.

Sydney turned, almost hidden by the darkness, and looked up into the white face of the man opposite. "You're angry at Miss Parker because of what she said, but I'm not going to defend her to you, so don't get defensive. We'll come back to that. You're confused about the things you feel for Broots, wanting to have him near you, because he's your brother, but not wanting it, at the same time, because he'll remind you of me. You don't want to reach out to anyone in your family, despite the fact that they're all frantically worried about you, because you're afraid they'll want to talk about what's happened, and you don't feel like you're ready for that yet..."

"If you know I'm not ready, why are you here?" the younger man interrupted.

"Because you're never going to feel ready," Sydney told him. "But this has all gone on for long enough, and it's more than time for it to be resolved."

"And how did that become the invalid's job?"

"You're allowed to use my name, Jarod. I know you're angry with yourself for saying it when you first saw me, because you probably swore to yourself that you wouldn't say it, or even try to think it, ever again. You've spent the past few weeks trying to deny that I mean anything to you at all, but we both know that's not true."

Sydney sat on the sofa again, looking at his former protege, his tones becoming gentler and less accusing.

"What about how I feel, Jarod? Don't I get my feelings taken into consideration too? You used to be so good at doing that, and it would be terrible if you were to lose the connection that you always had with people."

"People being you."

"Among others, yes." Sydney paused, eyeing the other man thoughtfully. "How do you think I felt when I learnt you were gone?"

"You didn't even notice," the other man muttered.

"Didn't I? I wasn't so sick, Jarod, that I wouldn't notice you weren't there."

"You were dying, Sydney!" The younger man choked on the words, but managed to continue. "How could you possibly notice something like that, something as unimportant to you as me, considering how sick you were when you collapsed in front of me?"

"Can you imagine what a relief it was for me, knowing how terrible I was feeling at the time, to see you when I came around? I knew that I was with the one person who could not only help me to recover..."

"I didn't do that." The words were mumbled but Sydney heard them.

"Is that what you've convinced yourself of, since you ran away?"

"Sydney, there was nothing else that I could have done!" He glared at the man who continued to sit, unperturbed, on the couch. "I did everything I could and it wasn't enough. Then..." Jarod stopped suddenly, knowing that he had said too much, and turned away.

"Then Michelle and Nicholas arrived." Sydney's voice was soft with understanding. "Jarod, you asked before why I didn't ask about you. It was because I didn't have to. I saw your expression and I knew your feelings when Michelle came into the room, when Nicholas did, and when we talked. I could see you making the decision to leave at almost that moment. I heard what you said when you were talking about the readout as well. But I've always known what you feel about them both. I knew you wouldn't be at my bedside when I woke up the next morning, and I knew why, so therefore why would I have to ask about you?"

Sydney got up again and went over to where the man stood silently in the middle of the room. Although Jarod tried to step back, Sydney placed one hand on either arm and kept him still.

"Jarod, I won't try to deny what you already know is true. Yes, I love Michelle, and I also love Nicholas. They're both very dear to me, and I'm grateful - exceedingly grateful - that you called them." Sydney hesitated briefly to overcome the natural resistance to what he wanted to say. "But I love you, too, Jarod."

There was a moment of silence that followed this, during which time the younger man looked anywhere but at the person in front of him. Sydney continued.

"When I said you were like a son to me I wasn't raving or delirious. The words were deliberate and I meant them. I still do. I know I haven't ever told you that before, and that's my own fault. I should have. I could have died six weeks ago and never had the chance to tell you that. But I spent thirty-three years watching you grow up and I don't know how I wasn't supposed to get attached to you. When the car accident left Jacob in a coma, and the Centre scared Michelle away, you were all I had left. I was terrified they'd take you away from me, or something awful would happen to you, and I'd really be left alone."

"Why..." Jarod's voice was husky, full of emotion, and he had to swallow hard before he could continue. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know, Jarod. It was a mistake not to, but perhaps one of the reasons was that I hid behind a scientific mask in an attempt to assure the Triumvirate that my feelings wouldn't affect your sim results. Also, I'm not used to expressing what I feel for people. I never told my brother that I loved him before he died, nor my parents before they were killed. That ought to have acted as a warning, to make sure I told you how I felt, but I could never bring myself do it. I never even told Michelle that I loved her and, when she disappeared, it was like my heart was torn in two. Then you gave her back to me." Sydney smiled. "I should have told you then how I felt about you, because it would have avoided this whole situation, but all my old fears were still around. And there was a greater one."

"That... I wouldn't feel the same," the younger man proposed hesitantly.

"Yes. That shouldn't ever have mattered, but it did. Still, I've always felt that you have similar feelings for me to those I feel for you. Everything you've done for me, given to me, since you left the Centre and even while you were still in there, only reinforced that idea to me." Sydney hesitated for a second, looking into the face that was still turned away from his. "Did I ever tell you that I kept the Father's Day card you made for me?"

"No, you..."

"I know what I did at the time," Sydney interrupted. "And it's not a thing I'm particularly proud of, but it happened and I can't change what I did then. Still, I kept it."

The other man's voice was a faint whisper. "Why?"

"Because I couldn't throw it away, Jarod. Not permanently. I love it too much." Sydney paused to blink the tears out of his eyes. "I love you too much to throw something that precious away. Notwithstanding what you said earlier, all of the things you've given me could never be thrown away, because their giver was too important to me."

"Do..." Jarod hesitated, his eyes trained on the floor. "Do you feel the same way about me as you do about your son?"

"No, Jarod, I don't," the older man affirmed. "It's a totally different feeling, and I can't compare them. Nicholas is very dear to me, but I didn't watch him grow and develop into a man. I was lucky enough to have that chance with you, and I'm just so proud of what you've become."

Reaching up, Sydney placed one hand on the side of Jarod's head, gently forcing the man's head around so that the younger man's brown eyes met his own. For a moment, there was no move on either side, until Jarod's eyes filled with tears that began to trickle down his cheeks. His words were almost inaudible.

"Do you know how scared I was of losing you?"

"Probably just as scared as I've been ever since your disappearance that I may have lost you forever. I couldn't bear the idea that I might never have been able to tell you how I felt, and it was terrible to think of you somewhere out in the world, hating me."

"I could never do that," the younger man protested, somewhat feebly.

"What have you been trying to convince yourself for the last five weeks, since you left Trenton after arranging my 'x-rays' with Dr. Burke?"

"I... I don't know," Jarod stammered.

"But I do and I already told you what you were trying to do. You wanted to try and forget that I, the Centre and all of the things we did there ever existed. You might not have been hating me, but you were trying to deny the role I played in your life. In one way, it would almost have been easier for you if I'd died, because you wouldn't have had to deal with what you're facing now. At least, it might have seemed easier for a while, but eventually you'd have had to deal with a regret similar to that that Parker had about Thomas."

"You... knew about those?"

"She told me, yes, after you helped her to find a way to deal with them. But there wouldn't have been anybody to help you deal with what you felt, Jarod. You've needed to deal with it all since you first became aware of Michelle and Nicholas, but instead of finding somebody to talk to, you came here and shut yourself away from anybody who could help, trying to destroy yourself."

Jarod looked up half-resentfully, instantly placated by the expression in the older man's eyes, but still somewhat indignant at the suggestion. "Isn't that a little harsh?"

"No, I don't think so." Sydney picked up one of Jarod's hands and looked down at the white skin, stretched tightly over the bones, before eyeing the gaunt features in front of him. "If I'd been a few days longer, I might never have been able to tell you everything that you needed to hear. Luckily I wasn't. Now we're going to spend some time together where you can start looking like the man I love and not a shadow of him. And I won't be tolerating any arguments, Jarod."

"Who said I was going to make any?" the Pretender demanded.

"I got the feeling, from what you said earlier, that you may have planned to." The psychiatrist smiled as he saw the slightly sheepish expression that appeared on Jarod's face.

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"I hope you did."

Sydney released his hold on Jarod's arms and went over to the bed to pick up the bag. After zipping it shut, he picked up the jacket, leaving only a thin, bare mattress, before turning.

"I thought the way you threw this onto the bed when you came in seemed a little practised. Is it the only thing you've been sleeping under?"

Jarod shrugged. "Maybe..."

"You'll be lucky not to have pneumonia yourself! Walking to and from work would expose you to the worst of the weather, and then you couldn't warm up when you got back here!"

"It's not my fault this place doesn't have power."

"How long does it take you to put together a generator?" the psychiatrist queried, knowing the answer that would reply to this.

"I didn't have the money to buy the components."

Sydney walked over to the table and picked up the slip of paper still lay there before he went over to where Jarod stood, putting it into his shirt pocket.

"You do now."

"But you'll need it," the Pretender protested.

"Not really. I'll be starting back at work in a week or two and I have enough saved to keep us both very comfortable and also well fed," Sydney stressed the last words with a meaningful glance, "for that long." He smiled slyly at Jarod. "It would be no great surprise to me if I found you dipping into Centre funds again every so often from now on as well."

Jarod pocketed the last photo of his family before putting on the coat and picking up his bag. Sydney placed the laptop into its satchel and turned off the DSA player before picking them both up.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes."

"Good." Sydney took the key out of Jarod's hand and opened the door. When both men were outside, he locked it again and pocketed the keys.

"What are you...?"

"Making sure I have one less place to look next time you decide to disappear."

Sydney got in behind the wheel, watching Jarod get in on the passenger side, the younger man unable to repress a small sigh as he rested against the soft material.

"And you were planning to sleep on the floor while I was sick?"

Watching the younger man grin somewhat ruefully, Sydney reached into the back seat and picked up two thick rugs, putting them on Jarod's lap. "Wrap yourself in those."

"Why? It's not that cold."

"Because, judging by how you look, you'll need them. We've got a fair way to go."

"Are you up to driving that far?"

"I think it's time you stopped worrying about me and started worrying about you."

"I don't." Jarod tried not to grin. "I know you're worrying about me, so it means that, if I do it too, one of us will be feeling superfluous emotion."

Sydney laughed. "Very clever, Jarod. All right, we'll worry about each other and not ourselves. That sounds fair." He looked over, his face wearing a stern expression. "What did I just I tell you to do?"

"Okay, okay." Jarod covered his legs with one blanket and wrapped the other one around his shoulders, feeling several degrees warmer immediately, before doing up his seat belt. "Happy now?"

"Happier than I was, yes." Sydney started the engine and steered the vehicle out from its spot under the trees and onto the dirt track that led to the main road. "Did you see the car when you got home?"

"If I had, do you think I would have come in?"

"You may not have known whose car it was."

"Good point." Jarod relaxed back still further against the seat. "I was usually a little tired when I got home, so..."

"'A little tired'?" Sydney's tones revealed his skepticism. "After walking all that way, never to mention the number of hours you must have been working to send that amount of money to me in just five weeks, you were only 'a little tired'? That's like saying your brother's been 'a little worried' since your midnight discussion outside Henry's apartment." 

"He has?"

"What does the word 'frantically panicked' mean to you?"

"Unless they changed the rules of English grammar since I retreated from much of civilization, that's two words," the younger man objected weakly, finding it difficult to keep his eyes open in the warmth and comfort of the car.

"You know what I mean."

"I guess so."

Sydney could hear the exhaustion in Jarod's voice and glanced over to see the younger man gazing blankly out of the window as the scenery flew by. Keeping one eye on the road ahead, Sydney also watched the man in the seat beside him. Several times Jarod's eyelids slid down and his head began to slowly droop forward but he roused himself on each occasion. Finally, however, he put his head back against the headrest and let his eyes close. For a few minutes there was no change, but slowly Jarod's arms slipped down from their position, crossed over his chest, to lie in his lap. His head rolled to the left, letting Sydney see his closed eyelids and pale, slightly parted lips, through which came the slow, even breaths that told Sydney Jarod was asleep. With a satisfied smile, he concentrated on the road.

 

***

 

"Jarod?"

Sydney gently shook the Pretender, watching his eyelids lift as he focused on the man by the car door. There was several seconds of confusion before memory returned.

"Are we there?"

"Yes, we are." He smiled and stepped back, taking the blankets that Jarod pulled off his legs and shoulders before getting out of the car. Sydney put out an arm to stop him from falling as he straightened up and stumbled.

"I can manage..." Jarod broke off to yawn and Sydney eyed him with a look of amusement on his face.

"Yes, you can manage to curl up into a ball and sleep on the ground, but I have a better idea." He slipped an arm around the younger man's waist. "There's a nice, soft, cozy bed inside, just waiting for you to lie down on it."

"Keep talking like that and I might not be awake by the time we get there."

The psychiatrist laughed softly as they made their way up the stairs to the door of a house.

"That wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?"

"You could pick me up when I was four but I think you'd find it more difficult now."

"That probably wouldn't prevent me from trying," Sydney smiled as they went into a bedroom.

"And then I'd have to treat a heart condition, as well as a vascular one, and it was bad enough the first time."

Sydney turned back the blankets and watched as Jarod removed his jacket and slipped off his shoes. Gently he extracted the garment from the man's hand, draping it over a nearby chair, and turned back to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the floor.

"Sleep's more effective in a lying-down position than a sitting-up one."

He looked down at the young man again and noted the range of emotions evident in his eyes. Stepping closer to the bed, Sydney was about to place his hand on Jarod's shoulder when the pretender wrapped his arms around the psychiatrist's waist and pulled the man closer, turning his face in to Sydney's stomach and starting to sob.

"It's okay, Jarod." Sydney began to stroke the back of the younger man's head, his voice soft and soothing. "It's all right. I'm here."

Sydney continued to murmur quietly as tears that Jarod had not allowed himself to shed over the past few weeks were now released in hot streams. For ten minutes, Sydney continued to stand by the bed, feeling his shirt soaked, as Jarod cried out the worst of his fears. Finally, the storm abated somewhat and the sobs became less frequent. Eventually, the young man lifted his red eyes to the sympathy-filled brown ones that watched him.

"I... I'm sorry."

"What for? We both know you needed that."

Jarod nodded slowly, pulling away slightly. "Y... you won't leave, will you?"

Raising a hand, Sydney wiped the last of the tears off the man's cheeks and shook his head.

"Of course not."

Gently he helped Jarod to lie down, pulling the blankets closely around him and then sitting on the bed beside him, continuing to speak in low tones.

"I'm not going anywhere, now that I've found you again. Just relax and try to get some sleep. We can talk in the morning."

He watched as the man's eyes finally closed, lashes quivering briefly before they stilled. After several moments, Sydney leaned over, brushing Jarod's forehead with his lips, before getting up and leaving the room.

Mysterious Connections
Epilogue

Seeing the light, despite his closed eyes, Jarod felt himself panic. It should still be dark, and, if it wasn't, he wouldn't get to work on time, even if he ran. Tensing, he opened his eyes, but the strange surroundings prevented him from getting out of bed. The room was bathed in a pale, rosy light, as the sun shone in through thick, red curtains and illuminated his bedroom. For a few moments, Jarod stared around in bewilderment, before the events of the previous night returned to his mind. He allowed himself to relax, closing his eyes again, as the tension faded away, to be replaced by a feeling of comfort.

Lazily pulling himself up into a sitting position, he ran a hand over the crisp, white sheets and the warm blankets, enjoying the softness that was such a contrast to his bed of the past five weeks. Examining his hands, Jarod could see the blackness under his fingernails, reminders of his temporary home, and gravely shook his head, feeling the emaciation of one hand with the other.

"Well, was I too harsh to say that you were trying to destroy yourself?"

Jarod looked up to find Sydney leaning on the doorframe, arms folded, a look of amusement on his face.

"You don't honestly expect me to answer that, do you?" the younger man retorted at once.

"When I can read the answer on your face, it's probably not necessary."

The Pretender unsucessfully tried to hide a grin. "So, is my doctor going to let me get out of bed?"

"What do you think you are, sick or something?" Sydney smiled and came into the room. "Do you feel well enough to get up? You won't be doing a lot today, but it's a choice of not doing a lot here or not doing it in the living room."

"I think I'd rather..." Jarod trailed off, looking up at his former teacher. "Where are you going to be all day?"

"Here, of course." Sydney sat down on the bed. "Where else would I be?"

"But doing what here?"

Understanding, the psychiatrist nodded. "I'm going to catch up on some reading that I wasn't allowed to do while I was sick." Sydney smiled. "I can either do that here or in the living room - or outside if the sun comes out. Why not have a shower first and then see how you feel after that?" Glancing at his watch, Sydney looked up again. "It's only ten o'clock now, and you've got all day to decide."

"Only ten?!" Jarod would have got up but for the man who, by his position sitting on the edge of the bed, prevented it. "Do you know the last time I slept that late?"

The older man raised an eyebrow. "Did you ever sleep that late in your life?"

"Probably not." Looking down, Jarod suddenly had to yawn.

"You don't have to get up of you don't want to," the psychiatrist commented with a smile.

"I want to." The Pretender looked up. "I'm just not sure if my body wants to."

Sydney laughed. "It's probably enjoying the feeling of the soft mattress, instead of the two-inch thick one it's had to sleep on for the past few weeks, and I won't mention the insufficient covering. But if you tempt it now with a long, hot shower then I'm sure it'll let you know what it wants to do after that."

Jarod grinned. "I always thought it had a mind of its own."

***

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

Jarod looked up sheepishly from the book he was reading, sitting in the beams of sunlight that shone in through the glass doors that led outside, and his voice was hesitant. "Well, um, kind of..."

"Hungry?" Sydney's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I guess..."

"Well, are you or aren't you? If not, I'll have lunch all on my own - in front of you, of course, so that you've got company."

"I didn't think you liked torture."

"Oh, I don't know. It has its uses." Sydney turned away, laughing. "Well, all right, if you're sure you don't want anything to eat..."

"So you want me to beg?"

"Now that would be a novel experience!" The psychiatrist tried to hide a smile as he looked at the younger man. "I'm waiting."

"I have my dignity to think of."

"The same dignity that let you take a job as a waiter in a horrible, dirty, dingy, disgusting little restaurant?"

Jarod stared up from the large easy-chair he was sitting in. "How did you know?"

"Who do you think went to tell them you wouldn't be working there anymore while you slept in the car?"

"I guess I forg... I hadn't really thought about it."

"So a person whose IQ is off the chart manages to 'forget' that?" Sydney raised an eyebrow. "And this is the same person who was only 'a little tired'..."

"Okay, enough already." Jarod tried not to grin. "I said I hadn't thought about it."

"You started to say that you forgot and changed it, hoping I wouldn't notice."

"Begging's looking like a very real possibility."

Sydney smiled. "I'll save you your dignity this time."

He went into the kitchen and returned to the living room carrying a tray. Jarod looked at the contents of the bowl and then up again with an expression of irritation on his face.

"I was hoping for food."

"What did you eat whenever you had your last meal?"

"I don't think I want the lecture that'll go with me telling you."

"You're going to get the lecture anyway, but I'll wait until you're well enough not to drowse off in the middle of it."

"Gee, that's something to look forward to." Jarod tasted it and looked up. "What is it?"

"The same invalid diet a certain doctor recommended for me during my recent bout of illness." Sydney's lips twitched. "Revenge is sweet."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Eating the small amount in the bowl, Jarod looked up. "Is that it?"

"For now. I think we'll work you up from a number of small meals to a few bigger ones before you sit down to your next pizza."

"Now that's something..."

"...to look forward to later. You'd have about three bites and be unable to eat any more, but I might order one for you before we leave here," the psychiatrist finished knowingly.

Jarod looked through the large, glass windows to the garden outside and then up at Sydney.

"Where are we exactly?"

"A house that Michelle and I came to one year during our vacation."

"You got vacations?"

"The Centre was different then." Sydney smiled. "We spent a few weeks here. As soon as I worked out where you were, I contacted the owners to find out if it was available."

"How long for?"

"I've taken it for four weeks, but, if you need all that, I'll be very surprised."

"So will I," the Pretender agreed.

Jarod relaxed back against the cushions and watched Sydney carried the tray to the kitchen, returning to sit in another armchair. Sitting down, the older man took up a book and began to read before looking up to find himself being scrutinized.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking... how much I missed you."

Sydney smiled. "I missed you a lot, too, and I've hardly seen you since you left."

"I had to weigh up my options."

"Well, now that I'm not on the pursuit team anymore..."

"I know." Jarod smiled. "That's one of the nicest parts. And Broots isn't either."

"Nor is Miss Parker." Watching the smile fade, Sydney put down the book. "I think it's time we had that discussion I mentioned."

The man stiffened in his seat. "Sydney, I..."

"Jarod, please, don't get defensive. As I said, I'm not going to defend her to you. I don't think her behavior deserves it."

"So why are we having this conversation?"

Sydney smiled. "I'm not sure that it constitutes a conversation, are you? You had planned to sit in that chair and not say a word while I did all the talking."

The Pretender raised an eyebrow. "I can deal with it when my brother reads my mind. I'm not sure I'm ready for you to do it too."

"I would have thought I had more right than he did to be able to do that. After all, I've known you more than six times longer than he has."

With a sigh of defeat, Jarod looked over at the older man. "Well, what is it then?"

"I think it's time you forgave her."

Jarod remained silent. After a moment, Sydney continued.

"She knows what she said and how wrong she was in saying it."

"How?"

"Henry talked to her. He told her some of the things you told him and his cousin. I think you've made your point, Jarod. If you give her a second chance, you might be a little surprised at the direction things take."

"I was surprised enough to see that she'd left the pursuit."

"Things do change, and I think it's time they changed between the two of you as well."

For several moments, Jarod stared out of the window to the garden, before turning to look at the man opposite. "How do you suggest I go about it?"

"First, you'll need to make sure that you really mean what you say. It's easy for you to be all magnanimous now and say 'I forgive you,' but if you turn around the next time she annoys you and come out with the whole 'don't forget that you said this' thing, it will only start all over, worse than before."

"But surely she has to meet me half-way," Jarod protested.

"Oh, of course. I suggest that it's her place to make the first overtures. I think, if you give her a chance, that she will." Sydney looked at the younger man, a somewhat severe expression on his face. "Let her actually talk when you next call your brother, instead of hanging up as soon as you hear her voice."

"How did you...?"

"I'd also suggest that you refrain from the rather unpleasant epithets next time," the older man continued.

"All right, Sydney, were you there when I called Broots at work?"

"I thought you would already have known, Jarod," the psychiatrist teased. "After all, you know everything else that goes on at that place."

***

"Broots here."

"I hear somebody's been worrying about me."

"Jarod! Finally! It's been..."

"It's only been two weeks since I last phoned, little brother. I can't help that my email address closed down on its own when I didn't use it for a while."

"Did... did Sydney...?"

"Yes, Broots, he found me."

"And... did..."

"Yes, we've talked and everything's fine. He'll be back at work in a few days."

"So where have you been?"

"Oh, come on, do you really think I'm going to tell you that? I know you're not on the pursuit team anymore, but I imagine Lyle must have every phone in that place bugged, waiting for my next clue."

"Are you going to give him one?"

"Not right now. He can sit and twiddle this thum... oh, no he can't, can he? Okay, then he can just be patient. I'll be sending something along soon-ish."

There was a short pause.

"Uh, Jarod?"

"What is it?"

"I just wanted to know... were you planning to hang up any time soon?"

"That depends, little brother. If Lyle decides to break into the conversation with a few of his infamous threats, then maybe."

"How about if Miss Parker does?"

"Threatens me? I've always found that rather amusing, actually."

"Jarod?"

At the sound of the female voice, Sydney glanced at the Pretender, waiting for him to react, but Jarod remained silent.

"You're not going to hang up on me again?"

"Not right now, Parker, no."

"And... why not?"

"Do you want me to or not?"

"Oh, no," she answered hurriedly. "I guess I was just..."

"Expecting it?"

"Maybe..."

"Well, I was thinking that it was time things changed." Jarod met Sydney's eye as he spoke and watched the older man fail to hide a smile as he got up out of his chair.

***

Sydney walked out of the door and into the backyard where Jarod was sitting in a deck chair, enjoying the sun.

"Parker said to say hello - if I saw you," the younger man greeted him, closing his book.

"Thank you." Sydney sat down on the veranda steps and looked at the Pretender with a smile. "What are you thinking about, Jarod?"

"I thought you could read my mind," the other man teased.

The psychiatrist laughed. "I only do that in emergencies. There's usually so much going on up there that it's easier to ask than to read."

Jarod grinned. "So how am I supposed to be able to untangle it all?"

Becoming serious, Sydney glanced at the younger man. "I'd imagine that, for at least the last few weeks, you probably haven't been able to."

"I think that's pretty accurate. It did feel like it sometimes." Jarod rubbed his head, as if he was still able to feel the stresses of the last few weeks within it. "Sometimes I'd be confused about how I felt, and what I should do. I even began to doubt that what I was doing was right - and I can't remember the last time I felt like that."

"That's because what you were doing wasn't right, not for you. For some people, it's good to withdraw from all human contact, but you're not like that, Jarod. You need to have constant interaction, especially from people who care about you, and you also need new challenges all the time, or it gets boring, and that's when it becomes potentially dangerous."

Nodding slowly, Jarod looked over. "How did you imagine I'd be when you found me? In what state, I mean?"

"I didn't know for sure," Sydney replied honestly. "But I do know that I expected to find you in a dark horrible little hut in some far-flung corner of the country, a long way from other people. When I was most worried about you, I imagined that you might have started to drink or to use drugs to try and get away from the emotional confusion that I knew you'd be in." Sydney half-smiled. "Nicholas said he thought I'd probably actually have to psychoanalyze you, and I'd been planning for that to possibly be a necessity as well."

The younger man grinned. "Does that mean you'll send me a bill?"

"Well, you never know..."

***

Jarod ate the last of the food in front of him and then looked over to see Sydney finishing his own dinner. "I think yours looked, smelled and probably also tasted better than mine."

"If you hadn't been neglecting yourself then you could have had the same thing, but this isn't something you're ready for. Maybe in a few days, Jarod, but not yet."

Nodding, Jarod stared out of the window into the darkness for several minutes before turning back to Sydney. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You started to say something yesterday about how you felt when you first came around after fainting at my feet and I didn't let you finish. Can you remember the other thing that you were going to say?"

Sydney thought for a few minutes before looking up with a smile. "When I said that I was with the one person who could not only help me to recover..."

Jarod nodded as the older man paused. "What were you going to say when...?"

"When you so rudely interrupted me?"

The younger man looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, yes, then."

"I would have expected you to be able to work it out for yourself, Jarod. I told you on the last full night you were still there that I knew I was safe with you, and that was the other thing I would have said if you'd given me the chance."

"It seems kind of ironic, considering the situation we've been in for the past five years, doesn't it?"

"Oh, very much so. But, if I'm ever sick like that again, you're the person I want beside me, Jarod. Even at the times when I felt like I just couldn't fight against the pain anymore, you always somehow managed to keep me going." He paused for a minute. "Although I know it'll be hard for you, Jarod, I hope you're with me when I'm dying."

"You don't have plans for that yet, do you?"

"Not as far as I know, but, like I said then, we all have to go sometime." He looked at the man opposite him. "But at least I won't need to have regrets." Sydney smiled. "And, now, neither will you."

The End