Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. Never did. I don't even own the flu. Response to the 'Broots Sick Day' Challenge, at Mickey's.

A/N: Hopefully this will become a series! Portrait readers, I'm still with that project, too! This has nothing to do with the Hemmingway book, except the title. The two liner poem below belongs to me...

For Whom the Bells Toll

By RRP
1/?

“Alas!, the bells, ever on they toll

Cursed am I, for I have sold my soul.”



Debbie Broots pulled on her shoes, and grabbed her backpack from it’s spot near the door. She wandered back through the kitchen, ignoring the dirty breakfast dishes, and climbed upstairs to her father’s bedroom. Debbie nudged the door open with her foot, and stepped inside.

Broots was stretched out on the bed, covers pulled up under his chin, medicine, water and a cup of tea on a near-by table. Debbie sighed, and tiptoed over to him.

“Debbie?” He asked hoarsely. “Thought you left for school.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here?” She inquired worriedly. He shook his head, and forced a smile for her.

“I’ll be fine, honey. Go on, so you don’t miss the bus.” Debbie frowned at the floor, and shuffled out of the room. One last glance towards the half-closed bedroom door, screamed at her to stay home from school anyway, but she obeyed her father and continued down the stairs.



Miss Parker entered Broots’ tech room on SL-5 in full speed, holding a small brown box-- and came to a dead stop. The room was empty, no sign of the techie anywhere. She would have guessed that he had slipped off to the bathroom, or to grab something from the snack machine, but the computer wasn’t even on. Miss Parker looked around, and shook her head, turning around and heading back the way she came.

She entered her office a few minutes later, brown box still in her hand, and she sat down behind her desk. She had been getting ready to pick up the phone when it rang- she answered in the usual manner (for her, anyway).

“What?”

“Hey, Miss Parker.” The voice on the other end croaked. She knew it as Broots’, but just barely. Miss Parker tried to hide her worry, and inquired,

“What’s wrong, Broots?” There was a cough, then he answered.

“I’ve got the flu, and a temp of 103. I’m gonna take a sick day.” Miss Parker frowned. So he was allowed to take a sick day when he had the flu, but she had to get shot? Something was clearly wrong with the picture. (Miss Parker entirely forgot that the decision to go to work with the flu was hers).

“Come in, anyway. I’ve got some stuff I need you to do.”

“But-” Broots began to protest, and she interrupted him.

“Today, Broots.” And with that, she hung up. Immediately afterward, she felt horrible. What exactly had she just done?



Broots stumbled out of his car, and towards the large building in which he worked. He usually rode his bike, but hadn’t enough strength to even try today. The car wasn’t much better. He couldn’t stop feeling dizzy, and had nearly wrecked twice. He struggled to make the world stop swimming, and managed to make it to the elevator.

In his tech-room on SL-5, Broots was met by Sydney and Miss Parker, and he nodded to them, and collapsed into his seat without so much as a stutter. Sydney looked on in worry, and Miss Parker simply looked up once.

After a few minutes, he came to the conclusion that it would be best to turn the computer on if he was to get any work done. At the sound of the beep, Miss Parker stood up, dropped some things on the desk, and spoke.

“This stuff is pretty clear on what I need you to do. Just run through this, and get the results from the forensic lab when the results on Jarod’s package comes back.” This time, he didn’t even feel like nodding. She left the room, quickly barking over her shoulder at Sydney, to follow. He shot Broots a sympathetic look, and trotted after her.

Broots took a deep breath, and opened the first file. When he finally made the words stop dancing, he concentrated on reading and comprehending them.

Further autopsy of the shark’s stomach revealed…

He got no farther- he instantly vacated his seat, and made a mad dash for the bathroom.



“Where’s Broots?” Miss Parker stormed into the room on SL-5, and looked around. Sydney looked up from a file, anger in his eyes. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, and stepped back a step. “Something wrong, Syd?”

“He’s in the bathroom.” Sydney replied. “For the fifth time in three hours. This is ridiculous, Miss Parker. He hasn’t even had anything to eat since he got here, and I don’t guess he had much last night, which means he’s probably dry-heaving. Do you even have a valid reason for bringing him in today? Don’t answer that. You can’t. There is no excuse. Did he call in sick?” She slowly nodded, wincing during the description of how Broots’ time was currently being spent.

“He called this morning.” Miss Parker replied.

“Then it’s settled. You acted like the heartless monster they want you to be.” Sydney picked up the file again, and Miss Parker gasped with the pain of the emotional spear he had thrown.

“Sydney!” She finally managed to speak. He didn’t lift his head. “Sydney, I’m sorry.”

“Tell Broots that.” Was the response.

“What should I do?” She lowered herself into a nearby chair, the full weight of what she had done falling upon her. She had been heartless- calling in someone who was supposed to trust her, when she knew they were ill and incapable of fulfilling any job. Sydney dropped the file, and looked at her again.

“You can’t erase what you told him this morning, so I suggest you do the next best thing. Take him home. You should drive him, because he’s in no condition to drive. Pick up Debbie after school. Actually, I can pick up Debbie if you need me to. Get him home, and help as much as you can.” She slowly nodded, and Sydney gave her a small smile. “You’re willing. That’s the first step. And Miss Parker?” He continued, with her name, as she stood to leave.

“What, Syd?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“It’s okay, Syd. I think I needed it.” Miss Parker shot him the same small smile, and left the room. Her destination? The bathrooms.

Unlike many others, she was unafraid to enter the bathroom of the opposite sex. So, when she arrived, she knocked on the door. Getting no answer, she pushed it open and went inside.

The room was empty, except for a closed stall at the end, and a shadow sneaking out from under it’s door. The form that the shadow belonged to was still, motionless. Miss Parker hesitantly stepped forward, and whispered,

“Broots?” The figure moaned in an affirmative response. She paused, trying to decide what to do, and then grabbed some paper towels, stuck them under the faucet, and turned the cold water on. She wrang them out, and strode over to the stall door. Miss Parker tapped on it twice, and the lock slid over. She pulled the door open, and knelt down on the floor of the men's bathroom.

She handed Broots the paper towels, and he used one to wipe his mouth off, and put the clean one on his forehead, sighing in relief.

"Thanks." He mumbled, eyes closed.

"Yeah." Miss Parker replied. "I'm sorry, for making you come in today." Broots said nothing in response, and after a few minutes, she stood back up. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

Broots used the wall for support as he stood up, and she grabbed one elbow to steady him when he started to sway. His face was gaunt, and mostly pale- Miss Parker couldn't tell if the slight flush was just the fever, or the tell-tale sign of embarrassment as well.

Either way, she helped him all the way to her car, true to her word- ignoring the curious stares and questioning glances along the way. She didn't see Sydney at all, and the only person who spoke to them the whole way up was Sam. He spotted her several feet away, and had walked up to ask,

"Miss Parker? Do you want me to help?"

"Broots' keys are on top of his computer. Take his car home."

"Yes, Miss Parker." Sam had nodded, and gone the opposite direction.

As Broots eased himself into her passenger seat, and once again closed his eyes, she fought back bitter tears. What in the world had possessed her to treat someone she considered a friend in such a way? The only answer that would come to mind was simple yet cryptic- it wasn't anything in the world. It was for all of hell.



Sydney pulled up into Broots' driveway, passing Miss Parker's car and parking behind Broots' little Honda. Debbie hopped out of the back seat, and took off at a sprint for the house. Sydney followed at a calmer pace.

He entered the house only thirty seconds after Debbie, and found Miss Parker stirring soup, and Debbie munching on peanut butter crackers. He allowed himself a small smile, and walked over to the stove.

"Want me to help?" Miss Parker turned to him, and held out the soup spoon.

"Please, stir."

"How has he been?" Sydney asked, accepting the spoon and stirring.

"Well," Miss Parker frowned, and continued. "Since I got him home, he's been in the bathroom twice, but other than that, he's just been sleeping."

"Fever?"

"Still about 103. And Syd?" Miss Parker sneaked a glance at Debbie, then leaned closer to Sydney to whisper. "I'm not a nurse, and you are never going to make me do something like this again!" She spat out, words more desperate than venomous. Sydney chuckled, and stirred the soup.

"Miss Parker?" Debbie's voice rang out, and Miss Parker turned to see the little girl pushing the half-finished plate of crackers away. "I think I'm going to go lay down. I don't feel too good." Miss Parker put a hand to Debbie's forehead like an expert, looking like she had been doing it her whole life.

"You've got a fever." Miss Parker sighed. "Put your pajama's on." After the little girl had trudged out of the room, Miss Parker turned back to Sydney. "I was going to let you take a turn with the deathly ill computer geek," She spoke, tone dripping with sarcasm. "But-" The sarcasm disappeared. "If she's sick too, I can't leave you to take care of both of them." She sat down on a stool at the counter, and Sydney looked over at her.

"Miss Parker,"

"What?"

"You're doing the right thing. Think about what would have happened if Broots had been here alone, and Debbie got sick. Or worse, if he had stayed at work?" Sydney sipped the soup to test it, and Miss Parker nodded.

"I know, Syd...I know..."



Broots entered his tech room on SL-5, feeling a bit shaky but otherwise okay. Debbie had gotten better considerably faster than he had, and was already back at school. He sat down, and turned the computer on. It beeped joyously, as if excited to be used after nearly a week of non-use.

Broots was working busily, typing at a quick pace, when Mr. Lyle entered the room and made him jump.

"M..mr. Lyle!" He exclaimed, eyes widening. Mr. Lyle sighed, and sat down on the edge of a vacant desk.

"It's just me and you today, Broots."

"What?"

"Seems Sydney, my Sister, and her Sweeper all called in sick." Broots shot out of his seat, and grabbed his coat. "Where are you going?" Lyle demanded. Broots mind flashed back to the past week- Miss Parker and Sydney staying at his house virturally the whole time, occasionally calling Sam to pick something up from the store.

"I've got to go." Broots replied hurriedly, not wanted to explain.

"Why?"

"Um...I'm calling in sick." Broots nodded, and darted out of the room. Lyle frowned. Something was going on, and he was out of the loop. And if that loop had anything to do with the flu, he didn't mind staying out of it. He left the tech room, vowing to investigate- after a couple days, of course.



Broots started his car, and debated his options. He could go to Miss Parker's house, and probably wind up dead. He could go to Sam's place, but he didn't even know where Sam lived, much less know enough about him to feel comfortable with helping him out. Or he could go to Sydney's, and be safe either way.

He was going to Sydney's.



Jarod hummed, and finished cleaning up the small kitchen. He put a note on the counter that simply read, 'Check the stove'. The stove was on 200, just enough to keep something warm, and there was an empty bowl and spoon set out next to the note. A glass of water, and a fresh pot of tea were next to the bowl and spoon.

Then, next to the pot of tea and the water, was a tiny medicine measuring cup with two small ordinary looking pills in it. Jarod stepped back, and smiled at the counter lineup.

He left, purposely slamming the door behind him to attract attention.

A few minutes later, a figure staggered out of the bedroom hallway, and looked around in surprise.



Miss Parker was surrending her stomach contents to the porcelin god, trying not to cry, to keep her hair out of the way, and cursing Broots, all at the same time. Suddenly, there were gentle hands holding her hair back, and rubbing the space between her shoulder blades in a comforting motion.

When she finally stopped, and was able to breathe normally again, she looked up into the face of her 'hero'. Her eyes widened in surprise, when she found herself looking into the warm, chocolate, and concerned eyes of Jarod. She opened her mouth to protest against his being in her house, or his existance altogether, but he shushed her.

"Quiet, Parker. Just calm down. I'm only here to help." He handed her a washcloth from the sink, and filled up the sink while she was wiping her mouth off and flushing the toilet. She was too weak to try to stop him from doing whatever he wanted, but was surprised when he pulled a chair into the bathroom, and set it next to the sink. Wordlessly, he set her in the chair- an action that required picking her up, and lifting her off the ground, but she found the experience uplifting (no pun intended).

"Lean your head back." He instructed gently, and she did so. Tears filled her eyes as he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and quickly washed her hair, the remains of what had happened before he came disolving and washing away.

Jarod grabbed a towel, and carefully dried her hair, then carried her back to her bed. He tucked the covers up under her chin, and she finally managed to croak out one word.

"Why?"

"Because, Miss Parker." He replied, setting a cool cloth on her head. "No one deserves to be alone." He left the room, and Miss Parker was surprised at herself when she found she was scared he wouldn't return.

But return he did, only a few minutes later, with a glass of water and some medicine.

"Swallow these." Jarod handed her the two pills, and set the glass of water on her nightstand. "You feel like going to sleep?" He asked next, after she obediantly swallowed the medicine. She shook her head.

"That's all I've done for fourteen hours."

"Shall I stay here and bore you with tales of my adventures, or would you like to be alone?" He offered with a grin.

"Stay here and bore me." She replied, smiling a little herself. He nodded, and pulled the chair out of the bathroom, over to her bedside, and sat down on it.

"Well, for starters, Broots feels awfully guilty about making all of you sick. I think I almost gave him a heart attack when I stopped by Sydney's house."

"He was at Sydney's?" She asked, brow furrowing.

"Well, he said that he was afraid you would shoot him if he came here. He's keeping an eye on Sydney, and I came here to help you. After I stopped at Sam's, and left some soup."

"You stopped at Sam's?" Miss Parker asked in surprise.

"He doesn't know it was me, but yep. All three of you caught the same flu Broots had." Jarod leaned closer to her, and whispered, as if someone else was in the room and listening. "If it's that contangious, I saw we invite Mr. Lyle over for a few hours." Miss Parker couldn't help but laugh, and winced when her echoed back with a sharp pain. Jarod's expression immediately changed to concern.

"Are you okay?" Miss Parker nodded, and studied him, trying to figure him out. She chased him all over the world, and when she got sick, he showed up at her house to take care of her. He had to be the world's most confusing man.

They sat in silence for a while, and Miss Parker finally drifted off to sleep again, without quite intending to to. Jarod stayed beside the bed, and watched her sleep.



Sydney entered the tech room on SL-5, and sat down behind a desk. Broots sat at the computer, typing away, and Sydney spoke up.

"Thank you, Broots."


"No problem, Syd. You'd do it for me, right? Heck, you did do it for me." Broots shot the older man a smile, and Sydney returned it. Sam entered the room a few minutes later, and Sydney looked up from a file he had been skimming.

"Sam?"

"Miss Parker told me to come down here and wait for her." Sam explained, shrugging.

"How's everyone feeling, boys?" Miss Parker's voice chimed out a split second after Sam finished. When there wasn't really a verbal answer, she smiled and stalked over to Broots. She looked at the computer screen, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Have you gotten over the shock yet?" The way his eyes widened nearly made her laugh. Instead, she just smiled. "Sam!" She snapped, straightening.

"Yes, Miss Parker?"

"How was the soup?" She asked, a devious smile hidden within. Sam's face was a mix of horror and surprise.

"Um...it was, fine." He replied hastily. Miss Parker nodded, and shot him a rare smile as well.

"Good. Wonderboy usually messes up with the liquid foods." She was afraid for a split second that Sam was going to pass out- all the color drained from his face as the weight of her statement sunk in, and he realized who it was that had left the soup.

"Sydney?"

"Miss Parker?"

"What did he say when he stopped by your house this morning?" The grin that had been growing as Miss Parker questioned the other two men disappeared, and Sydney looked at her in shock.

"How'd you..." Sydney couldn't finish the inquiry, and Miss Parker shot him the same smirk-like smile he was used to seeing on Jarod's face.

"I know Wonderboy pretty darn well, Syd."

"He just said he was glad everyone was feeling better..."

"And?"

"That'd he'd almost enjoy it if you had the flu more often." Sydney finished. It hit Sam and Broots about the same time, that she had known about Jarod because he had been at her house- and she had been conscious. Miss Parker blushed at Sydney's comment, and tried to fight it off, while Broots turned to his computer to hide his stupid grin, and Sam was suddenly and suspicously coughing into his sleeve, head and eyes averted.

"Back to work." Miss Parker suddenly snapped, finding her voice again. "Where's Lyle?" It wasn't a question she usually asked, but Jarod has disappeared for a brief hour while taking care of her, and he had taken some of the damp washclothes she had used, with him.

Broots looked at her innocently, a smile still tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"He called in sick."

"Poor him." Sam muttered. There was a brief period of silence, as once again, everyone tried to hide idiotic looking grins. The phone rang, making most jump. Miss Parker picked it up.

"What?"

"Miss Parker," Jarod's voice, hoarse and strange sounding, greeted her. "Please don't get sick again any time soon. I don't know if I can take the stress." There was a geniune cough, and a hurried, muffled, "Gotta go." But the phone didn't click off- instead, there were the sounds of it falling a considerable distance, and a retching sound in the background that made Miss Parker's stomach lurch. She hung up the phone, and turned to Sydney.

"Did he ever have the flu while he was here?" Sydney shook his head, and started laughing. Miss Parker left the room, and Sam followed her. Broots chuckled, and turned back to the computer- almost glad to be back at the Centre.

Chapter Two

“The square echoes with their ringing clear

Death’s sandman knocks, and summons fear”

by RRP


Miss Parker entered her house, and looked around. Sure enough, just as she had suspected, Jarod was sprawled out on her couch- asleep. She had told Sydney she was never accepting the job of ‘nurse’ again, but she felt that she owed it to Jarod. So, Miss Parker, Ice Queen, tiptoed over to the still figure on her couch and felt his forehead.

He had a fever, alright. That was settled. She could make herself some tea, and wait until he woke up for an explanation. So she took off her jacket, and dropped it on the kitchen table along with her gun, and busied herself making two cups of tea. She doubted he would feel like drinking any, but made some just in case.

Miss Parker didn’t have to wait long for the Pretender to wake up- but when he did wake up, he barely had time to acknowledge her. Instead, he made a world-record sprint for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Miss Parker filled up a glass with cold water, and wet a washcloth. Armed with this, she made her way to the bathroom.

She winced at the retching sounds, and waited until they ceased. She seriously doubted that Jarod would want her coming into the bathroom and seeing him in an ill state at all, and decided that she could wait a few minutes- he had no hair to hold back. She knocked softly on the door.

“Jarod?”

“Go ‘way.” Came the mumbled reply.

"No." She replied firmly, yet calmly. "I'm coming in." There was no word of protest, so she eased open the door, and slipped into the bathroom. Jarod was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily. She flushed the toilet without looking into it, and knelt down next to him.

"Hey, Wonderboy." Miss Parker spoke softly, using the term more as a name of endearment than a barb. Jarod opened his eyes, and blinked at her.

"Wha?"

"Here." She handed him the glass of water, and he took a slow sip of it before handing it back. She set it on the sink counter, and set the washcloth on his forehead. He sighed, and closed his eyes again.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have come back." He finally mumbled.

"Why did you?" She asked, watching him carefully, concern clear.

"I tried to leave." Jarod began, coughing a bit. "But I wrecked. Couldn't make the road stay still. I told one of the police officers that you were my sister, and he dropped me off."

"Well, that explains the absence of your car." Miss Parker murmured. "Come on, you can take the bed." She stood up, and tugged gently on his arm. He stood, and shuffled after her into the bedroom.

"You want me to take the couch?" He asked warily, attempting to make his mind function despite the fever.

"No. You take the bed." Miss Parker insisted. "Go on, get in." He obeyed, and slid under the covers with another grateful sigh. He leaned back on the pillows, and closed his eyes again. She sat down next to the bed, and sighed as well.

"Life sucks sometimes." Miss Parker spoke after few moments of silence.

"Yeah." Jarod agreed quietly.

"I didn't get to thank you for taking care of me last week."

"No problem."

"Sleep, Jarod. You look like hell."

"You know, Parker? You really do a great job with compliments."



Miss Parker couldn't call in sick again- it would look suspicious. So during the day, she went to work. In the morning, and at night, however, her time was devoted to taking care of Jarod. He was a compliant patient for the most part- or at least he strived to be. But his moods shifted from whiny or complaining to silent or angry.

The one good thing about work was the absence of Lyle- no pesky brother to ask her why she was five minutes late to work, or to interrogate her on why she was suddenly leaving at six on the dot. In a way, she felt sorry for him. He was the only one of them to get sick and not have anyone to check on him. Then again, he probably deserved it.

It had been three days of masquerading before Jarod scared her. Or rather, she was scared for him. His fever had been high, but not dangerous, for the most part. His health never exceeded normal flu symptoms, and he would live. But on the night of the third day, she was complaining to herself about sleeping on the couch, about to go to sleep, when there was a scream.

Not a yell, or a word, or even human sounding. An ear-piercing, heart-wrenching scream. And it was coming from the room Jarod was in. She sat bolt upright, flung the covers off, and pretty much ran to the room.

He was thrashing in bed, mumbling and muttering, flailing helplessly. She tiptoed closer, almost afraid that he would unknowingly hurt her if his arm swung her direction. She caught his mumbling, and tried to make sense of it.

"No no no no no don't go help the boy please don't leave me die you don't die come on not going to no no no Raines won't Sydney help make go send help please gun down Miss Parker!" Her name was the only clear part of the monologue, and was repeated. "Miss Parker. Miss Parker. Don't shoot her, don't shoot! No can't die, her, no no no...PAAAAAAAAAARKER!" The last two syllables came out as a yell, not as desperate as the scream, but still carrying enough emotion to make her tremble. Something had to be done.

She reached forward and grabbed his wrist as it flew near her head, then the other. She found that to maintain this position, she had to climb upon the bed. He calmed a bit when she grabbed his arms, and she cautiously dropped one. He seemed to jump in his sleep, and quickly rolled over onto his stomach, still muttering something about death.

"Jarod, calm down." She used her free hand to rub his back in a comforting motion, as she remembered her mother doing for her. "Shh...It's okay. I'm here, and you're here. Nothing's really happening. Shhhh..."

At the sound of her voice, he calmed a bit more. Then started twitching, as if going into a seizure. He flipped back over suddenly, almost crushing her hand, and the mumbling grew louder, more frantic.

"Can't die, can't die. No no no. Miss Parker. Sydney, not true. Lies lies lies. Tell them her to stop it. Can't die, she can't she can't she can't. Not. No no no. Stop the gun stop the gun, make it stop. Jump, Parker, move...please move..." The yell came again, ever fiercer than before if that was possible. "PAAAAAAAAAAAAARKER!" He sat straight up, gasping and sweating, panting for breath. His eyes wide and disbelieving, he looked at her and met her eyes. His lower lip trembled, and his hand tightened around hers.

"You...you were dead. I saw you, I saw you dead!" With a sound somewhere between a gasp, a moan, and a cry of pain, he flung himself into her arms and began sobbing uncontrollably. "Don't leave, Parker. Promise you won't leave." He was sniffling, and crying, and tears were flowing down her face as well- it tortured her to see her old friend in so much pain.

"I promise, Jarod." She raised his head to meet her eyes. "I'm right here, and I'm not leaving." He buried his head in her lap again, unashamed. Sobs still wracked his limp frame, and he clung to her like a dying man to a lifering. She held him, unconsciously rocking him back and forth until the sobs subsided. He sniffled, and shifted slightly when she moved.

She felt his forehead, and was relieved to find that his fever had broken. He was sweaty and damp, but cool to the touch. She started to move him off her lap, and back onto the pillow, and he whimpered.

"Jarod. I'm not leaving. I told you that." His warm brown eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her, begging through his eyes. He finally managed to make his mouth form the words he wanted to say.

"Stay with me?" A hundred reasons flew through her head at why she shouldn't stay- he just got over the flu, what if he has another nightmare, the germs are still on the sheets, he's Jarod for Petes Sakes- but only one reason to stay. He needed her.

So Miss Parker nodded, and climbed back onto the bed, sliding under the covers next to him. He looked at her gratefully, and his eyes spoke volumes.

"Thanks." He murmured, eyes closing again. The sound of soft breathing filled the room, and she matched her breathing pace to his, as was soon asleep.



When Miss Parker awoke, she was warm and drowsy- there was an arm wrapped protectively around her, and her head was resting on the shoulder that arm belonged to. It took her less than five seconds to figure out who it was- Jarod. Everything came back to her- the nightmare, his screaming, climbing into bed with him.

Miss Parker wondered if he was still asleep, and craned her neck to see. He was awake, and looking back at her. His warm, chocolate eyes held an array of emotions- from sincere thanks, to a jestful twinkle. He smiled at her.

“Comfy? I was beginning to wonder when you would wake up.” She sat up, and yawned and stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven something.” Jarod replied nonchalantly. Miss Parker sat up straight, and looked at him in horror.

“Eleven?” She shrieked. “I’m supposed to be at work. Has the phone rang?”

“Twice.” Jarod replied, concern creeping onto his face. “It’s a Saturday, Parker. Don’t you get Saturday’s off?”

“Usually. But not this week, because of the schedule for the past few weeks.” She replied, hopping out of bed and dashing around the room gathering stuff. She paused to look at him. She couldn’t help thinking that he looked sexy, in his boxers, hair ruffled and un-brushed. She pushed the thoughts away, and spoke.

“Listen. They’re going to suspect something, so you need to be gone when I get back tonight.”

“But-” Jarod began to protest, and Miss Parker cut him off.

“Do you want to go back?”

“No.”

“Then please, Jarod. Be gone.” She started to gather things again, when he protested again, in a near whisper.

“But Parker, I love you.” Miss Parker froze. She wasn’t sure if it was his fever-riddled brain recovering, or if he actually meant it. He had sounded sincere.

“What?” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“I love you.” He repeated, a bit louder. She turned to face him, and he continued. “I’m sick of this ‘I run, you chase’ game. I’ve missed you ever since you went away all those years ago, I’ve never even felt for anyone else what I felt for you, and last night, for the first time in years, I felt safe.” The speech was hurried, and she was speechless. She finally regained her ability to speak.

“Are you saying you want me to run away with you?” Jarod bounced forward on the bed, so he was only a couple inches from her face.

“We can disappear, Parker. Start a family, spend time together. Away from them.”

“Jarod…”

“Please, Parker. I’m begging you.”

“Jarod…” He wouldn’t let her finish, afraid she would say no.

“Last week, despite the fact that you were sick, I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time, and that’s because I was close to you. The past four days, you’ve raced home from work, waited until the last minute to leave in the morning, when if you really didn’t want to care, you could have called in a Sweeper team.”

“Will you just shutup for a minute?” She demanded. “I was going to say yes two minutes ago, but you wouldn’t let me finish.”

“Oh.” Jarod looked stunned. He sat back on the bed, blinking. She laughed.

“Look who’s speechless now.” Miss Parker teased him.

“So, you mean it? You’ll come with me?”

“Yes. But not now.” She replied firmly. “There are some things I need to do first.”

“But, Parker!” Jarod exclaimed, a pained look on his face. He was cut off by the door being flung open. Both of them jumped, and Miss Parker turned in surprise to see Mr. Lyle standing in the doorway. He shook his head, as if to clear thoughts from it, and in the pause she noticed that he look flushed. He coughed, and winced, then spoke.

“Listen, I’m going to pretend that I didn’t see this. I don’t even think I want to think about what may have happened here last night. But Sis,” Lyle shot a sidelong glance at Jarod. “Go with him.”

“What?” Both Jarod and Miss Parker nearly shouted at the same time. Lyle cracked a small smile, and coughed again.

“Dad thinks something is going on. A Sweeper team is on it’s way over right now, to bring Jarod back if he’s found, and terminate you if you’re here with him. I came to warn you.”

“Why?” Was all she could think to ask, her mind attempting to process all the information at once.

“Because, I may tease and taunt, but I don’t want you dead. You’re my sister. The only family I’ve ever really had.” Lyle replied, coughing for a third time. “Just go with him. Don’t look back. I’ll keep an eye on Sydney for you.”

“And Broots.” She added, gathering things from the room again. Lyle nodded, and opened the closet doors, and pulled out a suitcase. He looked over at Jarod, and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you helping, or not?” Jarod slid out of the bed, and tugged on some jeans.

“Parker, what do you want me to do?” He asked, standing before her. She looked over at him, and thought fast.

“Get your stuff, get what you think we’ll need from my house, and load the car.” He nodded, and left the room.

“Mr. Broots is being relocated.” Lyle spoke after the Pretender left. Miss Parker frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve arranged for him to move to Washington State, and work in our computer development lab. He’s leaving tomorrow, with his daughter. He’ll be head of a project experimenting with advanced holograms, there.” A disbelieving look crossed Miss Parker’s face.

“You did all of this, within two days, and you’ve got the flu?” Lyle shrugged, and sat down on the edge of the unmade bed.

“I’ve been planning it out for a few weeks now. I knew they were going to act drastically, sooner or later.” She leaned over and kissed him on a flushed cheek.

“Thanks, Lyle.” He smiled, and rubbed the spot on his cheek that her lips had touched.

“You’re welcome. Just stay safe. Let Jarod take care of you. He’ll do a better job than I could. And sis?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me two things.”

“What?”

“That you’ll stay in contact with me, let me know how you’re doing. And that you don’t set foot in Blue Cove for a long time. Leave, and don’t look back. If the first one gets too dangerous for you, then drop it. But never forget the second one.”

“I promise, Lyle.” She nodded, and zipped up the suitcase. “Don’t get into too much trouble yourself. If I ever see you again, I don’t want you missing both thumbs.” He grinned and nodded. “And after I leave, go home and get some rest. You look like hell.”

“I’ll try.”

“She’s great with compliment, isn’t she?” Jarod asked from the door. “Car’s ready. Are you?” She nodded, as Lyle grinned at the comment. She left them in the room, carrying her suitcase. Lyle tried to follow her, but Jarod stopped him.

“Lyle.”

“Jarod?”

“Thank you. For her sake.” Jarod held out his hand, and Lyle shook it firmly.

“Take care of her, Jarod.”

“I will.” Jarod nodded, and they both followed Miss Parker out to the car. Miss Parker hugged Lyle, and he hesitantly returned the hug. She climbed in the car, and Jarod released the brake.

Without any chance for second thoughts, they were off. As they drove away, Miss Parker watched as Lyle turned around, and saw what she had just caught in the corner of her eye- a black Lincoln, Sweepers pouring out of it. She spotted Sam among them, and his eyes met hers. He nodded to her, and nothing more, and continued towards the house without saying anything to the other Sweepers.

Lyle stood among them, as they brushed past him and towards the house. One last Sweeper stepped out of the Lincoln, held up a gun, and pulled the trigger. Lyle went down, Miss Parker barely heard herself scream his name, and the Lincoln revved it’s engine.
Jarod did the only thing he could do to keep her safe- he slammed down on the gas, and the house disappeared into the distance.

A/N: Sorry the wait was so darn long. I’m planning to make each chapter a little shorter from now on. This length is about the general length to expect henceforth. *bows and almost falls over* Cheers. Read and review.

Chapter Three

"I escape the pain with blackness grim

The Reaper, with me, meets within"


Jarod couldn’t get Miss Parker to talk to him- it had been three days, and she still wasn’t speaking to him. She didn’t seem mad- she confused, and upset. They hadn’t been able to figure out if Lyle had died, or had just been injured, but either way, he couldn’t get through to her.

They had gone north first, towards New York, then Jarod turned and headed west. Michigan, Wisconsin, and possibly further north into Canada. It was the third day of driving, Jarod was finally able to wake up without still feeling a bit ill, and they had stopped for breakfast in a little pancake joint. The last road sign had said Minnesota, and Jarod was trying to do math in his head before they were served.

"Canada?" He inquired of Miss Parker, not thinking she would respond. There was silence for a few minutes, then she surprised him.

"Canada sounds good."

"Canada it is then." He finalized, nodding. Jarod's phone rang as he finished the sentence, and Jarod whipped it out.

"Hello?"

"Jarod!" Sydney greeted him, relief in his voice. "I'm on my cell, outside of my house, first of all. The line is secure. Broots made sure of that before he left."

"Good." Miss Parker had perked up, and was leaning forward to hear the conversation.

"How's Miss Parker?" Sydney questioned. Jarod looked at Miss Parker and raised an eyebrow.

"She's okay." He slowly answered. "She's been better, but she's okay."

"Well, I have some news that may cheer her up." Sydney announced, somewhat cheerily. "Lyle's alive. His knee is going to take a while to heal, but he's otherwise okay. That's one of the reasons I'm calling, actually. He woke up this morning, and demanded that I call you. He's in Dover General right now."

"Dover General?"

"They had to take him there, for a reconstructive specialist. The bullet shattered his kneecap." Jarod turned to Miss Parker, and mouthed 'He's okay'. She sighed in relief, and held her hand out toward the phone.

"Miss Parker wants to talk to you, Syd."

"Put her on!" Sydney replied enthusiastically. There was a changing of hands, and then Miss Parker's voice.

"Sydney?"

"Miss Parker! I'm glad to hear that you're safe. They wouldn't tell me anything."

"I'm alive, Syd." Miss Parker smiled- her first for several days. "How are you?"

"Fine. Broots is in Washington."

"Lyle?"

"Dover General. Jarod can tell you the rest."

"Sydney, I'd like to talk more, but the food just got here, and Jarod's going to use all the syrup if I don't stop him-" There were the sounds of a muffled thud, and a 'Hey!', then Miss Parker came back on. "So, I've got to go. Oh, and can you do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell Lyle he can trust Sam."

"I'll be sure to do that. Take care of yourself, Parker." The line was disconnected, and Miss Parker handed the phone back to Jarod. He pocketed it, and grinned at her.

"Shall we eat?" He proposed. She smiled back, and nodded.

"Let's."

Lyle tried to sit up in the hospital bed, and winced as his leg went aflame with unbidden pain. Still in traction, he wasn't good for much at the present time. Sydney had stopped by a few times, but there had been no other visitors and he was beginning to grow bored. He was currently trying to reach the remote, and he could have sworn that the little giggling nurse that came in to check him every once in a while, had purposely set it out of his reach so he would have to call her in. He wasn't going to do it. He would survive without TV.

Sydney at that point walked into the room, box in his arms. He set it down on the bedside table, and carefully studied Lyle with his eyes for several minutes. Lyle raised an eyebrow, and stared back.

"Freud, if that's a bomb, you standing there isn't going to do you any good when it blows. And you being a pyromaniac, I've got enough mistrust left in me to believe it is a bomb." Sydney seemed to snap out of his reverie, and the older man smiled.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that bull. I know all about Raines- the oxygen tank didn't blow on it's own, and Sub Level Twenty-Seven. I'm pretty sure Gar didn't set the bomb, and I'm sure as hell that it wasn't a lightbulb gone wrong." Lyle replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. Sydney studied him again, for a brief second, then opened the box.

"I doubt the television actually gets anything, and I seriously doubt you're going to be happy watching fuzzy soap operas all day, so I brought you these." Lyle's eyes widened, and he snatched up the first one offered.

"Good god, Sydney! You're a mind-reader!" Lyle exclaimed, scanning the title of the book, and the others in the box.

"No, I think I'll leave that to Angelo." Sydney replied with a chuckle. Lyle flashed him a grin, and Sydney nodded to him. "Have fun." That comment brought a dry laugh from Lyle. "I've got to get back to Blue Cove."

"Bye, Syd..." Lyle supplied his farewell rather absently, already beginning to read one of the books. Sydney left the room, it hitting him as soon as he closed the door that for the first time he could remember, Lyle had called him 'Syd'. He shook his head, and strode towards the elevator. It couldn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

“Jarod!” Miss Parker laughed as Jarod struggled through the door with their suitcases. The fact that he was coming through the door with the suitcases was certainly not cause for laughter, but what sat upon his head was. It was a bright red baseball cap, with the word ‘PEZ’ embroidered on the front. He looked up with a questioning look on his face, as he set the suitcases down beside the couch.

“What?” He blinked innocently, and she laughed again, as she picked up her suitcase.

“Never mind.”

“What?” He persisted. Miss Parker pointed to the hat, and he snatched it off his head, revealing a messy head of hair. “This?”

“It’s a kids hat, Jarod.”

“Explain then, why it comes in adult sizes.” He retorted with a grin, placing it back on his head. She smiled sweetly, and headed up the stairs, pausing to call back over her shoulder.

“For moronic geniuses who have no grasp on adulthood, like you.” Miss Parker received a pillow ambush on her return downstairs, in payment for her troubles. She squealed, and screamed something about unfairness, before grabbing a few pillows herself, and whacking Jarod upside the head with one of them. An all out pillow fight was the result.

Forts were erected and destroyed before the hour was up, ‘towns’ won and lost. One of Miss Parker’s few sane thoughts during the ‘war’ was that Jarod really knew how to pillow fight. The entire house became a playground, hiding place, and strategy meeting room.

The hour ended with Miss Parker throwing a pillow into the chest of an exhausted Jarod, and declaring gleefully, “I win.” Before collapsing on the floor next to him. They sat together for a moment, catching their breath and enjoying each others company. Jarod finally stood to his feet, and extended a hand to her.

“I’ll make dinner.”

“And dessert?” Miss Parker asked hopefully, a wicked twinkle in her eye. He shrugged.

“If I’ve got no grasp on adulthood, then why wait until after dinner for dessert?” Jarod leaned forward, and kissed her, catching her mouth before she could react. So, she kissed him back. They breathlessly pulled away a second later, and stared at each other. Jarod started to blush, and Miss Parker thought it was incredibly cute. He swallowed hard, and nodded.

“That was definitely better than the first one.”

Chapter Five

“Inside of a dream world, I stumble and fall

A coffin announces the end of it all”

By RRP


Lyle allowed himself the relief of an inside sigh before growling at the half-determined intern that was working in physical therapy at the present time. The poor kid bit his lip but kept his chin up. Lyle raised an eyebrow, and frowned at the brace on his leg.

“Honestly,” The young man began. There was a few seconds of throat clearing before the kid mustered enough courage to continue. “You’re obviously not a very patient man.”

“And you’ve got a gift for stating the obvious.” Lyle shot back. He was, however much he hated to admit it, at a loss of control here. The situation was rather compromising, as he was indeed the one with the knee brace and cane- standing resolutely in the otherwise empty physical therapy room. His leg hurt like hell, and he was getting very far alone. That much he knew. Even the wheel chair, sitting less than five yards away, he couldn’t use without help. And that was extremely annoying as well as frustrating- to not have control of the situation put him at a loss and that made him uncomfortable.

He was also worried that a Centre assassin might be making a trip to a certain hospital room sometime in the near future- not really a good thing for his health. The kid that was with him was clearing his throat again, and seemingly developing a backbone at an alarming pace.

“Can you please just try to work with me here? I don’t know what shit possessed you to request an eleven o clock physical therapy session, but I do know I’ve got ‘terms tomorrow and I’m still due for a cram course. You’ve been difficult and rude ever since we left the stupid hospital room, and you haven’t asked my name. I suggest we start at the beginning, then actually work through this in a way that will keep us both alive and remotely happy.” Lyle looked the young man over appraisingly, and nodded to himself more than to the kid.

“Okay. What’s your name, and how the hell did you not end up in law or business?” There was a shrug from the shoulders of the kid, and a slight smile as his proposal was accepted.

“The name is Jonas. Jonas Stvosky.” He returned. “I like working with people, and would have gone into foreign relations if not for my father. He has this thing about carrying on the family tradition of medical work. But those dreams are quickly fading, whether he likes it or not, with the approach of my final exams.”

“Fathers are a tough mix. Sometimes they’re downright hellish.” Lyle nodded his agreement, eyes clouding with memories he wasn’t ready to discuss with anyone. “But about this,” He twirled the cane absently, “What do I have to do? I’m ready to get it over with already.”

“Well, first we lose the brace. Then you’ve got,” Jonas consulted a chart in his hands, “twenty knee-bends and five laps.” Lyle flicked his wrist over to look at the expensive looking Rolex on his arm, in one quick snapped motion.

“Damn. Let’s get it over with, then.” Jonas took a deep breath and gave an awkward nod of his head, as if diving into something he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to deal with, then knelt to unstrap the brace.

Two arguments later, Lyle was on his back, one aching leg bent at the knee and partially stretched out along the floor. Jonas was sitting Indian-style next to him, coaching unsurely. Jonas knew what to do and what to say with most patients, but Lyle was making it extremely difficult to make any progress whatsoever.

“How many left?” Lyle demanded through clenched teeth after another bend. Someone was going to die if the number was still a double digit.

“Eleven.” Jonas sighed, waiting for the explosion. He closed his eyes and cringed, and then slowly opened one eye when nothing happened. He peeked hesitantly over at his charge, and saw that Lyle had simply closed his own eyes as if to shut out the world. “Mr. Lyle?” There was no answer for several uneasy seconds.

“God, I hate guns...”

“I don’t blame you.” Jonas make a weak attempt to banter at a lighter level. To his surprise, it worked.

“I don’t blame me either, for once.”

“You want to take a break?” Jonas offered, and Lyle shook his head resolutely.

“Only eleven, right? You’ve still got cramming to do, and I don’t want to keep you too long. At least one of us should be able to please a father.”

“I take it that means you’ve haven’t been too successful in that department.” Jonas ventured to pry, as Lyle gritted his teeth through another knee-bend.

“I seem to have a running record of failing every one I come across.” Lyle had no idea why he had suddenly decided to be so honest and open with some little-known intern, but he usually just went the way the wind blew. Another knee-bend. Lyle winced.

“Nine more.” Jonas announced. “More than halfway done. So, what’s your job like?”

“Murder.” Lyle chuckled, not intending in any way to let Jonas know how close to the truth that answer was.

“Well, my current day-occupation tends to lean toward the study of deceased persons. I wonder if we get the aftermath of your job.” Jonas quipped with a grin, as he watched Lyle do yet another knee-bend. That evoked a small, dry laugh from Lyle. Any further conversation was stalled by a phone ringing- and Lyle sitting up suddenly with a bit-back cry of pain, searching for his cellular.

Jonas grabbed the phone from the wheel chair, with a raised eyebrow- silently questioning how Lyle had gotten a cell-phone onto hospital property as a patient, and managed to keep it. He handed it to Lyle, deciding that an explanation could wait a few minutes.

“What?” The sharp, snapped greeting Lyle gave caused a slightly bemused look to cross Jonas’s face.

“The number you dialed is either out of service or has been disconnected-” The mechanical voice of the operator greeted his ears, and Lyle pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. The caller ID had no number on it, and he would have forgotten the strange incident entirely if not for the metallic click behind him.

“Jonas, don’t move.” He growled, tossing the phone across the room and praying silently that it would give him enough time. Time to do what, he didn’t know. But he knew he needed time.

“Stand up.” A deep voice ordered, no emotion in the tone. Jonas turned his head to see who was in the room, and an instant later he was groaning and holding his stomach. “Stand up, or I’ll kick him again.” The voice threatened.

“Willie...”

“Stand up!” This time, it was a scream. Lyle stood, half-hopping to keep the weight off his bad knee. He turned, slowly, to see an entire team of Sweepers. They had gotten in pretty damn quietly if he hadn’t heard them until just now. Two of them- nameless, stony faces in a crowd of gun-toting muscle men- grabbed his roughly by the arms, and began dragging him out of the room. It was all Lyle could to do keep from using his leg, and putting unwanted pressure on his knee.

“Move.” Willie snapped, as the two Sweepers pushed him forward. They left the room, but Willie wasn’t with them- Lyle twisted his head to see where the black sweeper had gone, and his eyes focused just in time to see Willie pull the trigger of his 9 mm; blood splattered against the glass of the door but the Sweeper seemed not to notice as he came to join Lyle and the rest of the Sweepers.

Lyle’s jaw had dropped, watching the senseless murder- Jonas’ lifeless body but a shadow through the foggy lower panel of glass in the door. Willie nodded to the two Sweepers holding Lyle’s arms, and they pushed him forward. They passed the elevator and a puzzled look crossed Lyle’s face- but only briefly.

The stairs. They were going to make him go down stairs. There was no way he’d make it down with his knee- and they knew it as well as he did. He gritted his teeth, and fell back on a vow he had made many, many years ago. Never let him know you hurt, never. Let him think he can’t break you.

But, for the first time since his thumb had been taken, he was scared. As hard as he had tried, Lyle knew that the vow wasn’t always kept. The last thing he wanted to do was to be reduced to tears in front of Willie and a group of Sweepers, and knowing that it was a possibly scared the shit out of him. Damn.



The door of the Lincoln was flung open, and Sam jerked around in the drivers seat to shoot a glaring look in Willie’s direction. The black sweeper and his team had been gone longer than expected, and Sam knew that meant Willie had probably done something he wasn’t supposed to. He was ready to chew out Willie, royally, but a new player entered the scene and caught his attention.

A sobbing, moaning Lyle was tossed into the back seat as Willie and two other Sweepers moved in after him. Sam was immediately concerned, but in a situation that made it compromising to speak at all. It wouldn’t help anyone if he ended up dead, which was exactly what would happen if anyone so much as thought he was getting too noisy or concerned.

At the same time, Miss Parker. Sure, it seemed like an incomplete sentence, but you had to know Miss Parker to really understand. She existed, obviously was concerned about Lyle (this Sam knew from quietly observing Sydney slip off with his cell phone at least three times a day for the past week), and would have his head on a silver, make that golden, platter if she so much as caught wind of him disregarding Lyle’s condition.

Sam sighed, and pulled out of the parking lot.

Chapter Six

“Gone is the pain, gone are the fears

Left only is guilt that I have caused tears”


Miss Parker woke up craving one thing- coffee. And if Jarod didn’t have some ready, he better hop fast or prepare himself for an execution. She staggered out of bed, and down the stairs, only pausing to tug on a robe. The smell of a rich hazelnut cream assaulted her as she reached the bottom step, and she smiled. Good old Jarod.

She entered the kitchen, and concentrated on pouring herself a cup. It wasn’t until she turned and took her first sip that she saw Jarod- and knew something was wrong. He was drumming his fingers on the table, and the noise ceased when he stood to pull out a chair for her.

“Jarod?”

“Sit down, Miss Parker.” Miss Parker obeyed with a questioning look, and studied him carefully. He took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Lyle was taken from the hospital some time last night, and the people who took him made a rather messy job of leaving several dead- including a young intern. Sydney says there were rumors of a T-Board.” Miss Parker’s hand flew up to her mouth, and she barely managed to set the coffee cup down before she dropped it. “But that’s not all.” Jarod continued. “According to various and possibly inaccurate sources, Lyle made it through the T-Board. But now he’s missing, apparently from the Centre altogether.”

“Why do you care?” The question wasn’t accusing, simply begging an honest reply. “Do you care?”

“Alone, no. But because you care, yes. For your sake.”

“Where do you think he’s going? Who the hell do you think he’s with?” The second question was almost an afterthought, seemingly posed to the emptiness of the cabin, and not to Jarod himself.

“I don’t know.” Was the quiet, unsure answer.



Lyle became vaguely aware of his surroundings, memories of the abduction and the T-Board flooding back. His knee throbbed painfully, and it took several moments of concentration to keep from crying out. Wherever it was, it was moving- there was a rocking rhythm that made him want to drift back off to sleep. But instead, he opened his eyes. As his lids fluttered open, an accented voice spoke.

“Welcome back to the world. I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.” Lyle shifted in his seat, and struggled to sit all the way up.

“Cox? What the hell...”

“Relax, Mr. Lyle.” Cox replied, turning to him briefly with a short smile, eyes quickly moving back to the road. Lyle sat up anyway, and looked around him. The car they were in was small and sporty, and they were driving through what looked like the maple-tree forests of Vermont.

“Where are we going?” Lyle demanded, leaning forward and wincing as the ache in his knee seemed to catch fire. He couldn’t help it- a small moan escaped his lips. Cox glanced over, fleeting worry in his eyes.

“I said relax. Your knee is in awful shape as it is. And as to where we’re going, I’ve tracked your sister to a cabin in Canada. Since the Centre seems to want you dead, I’m giving you the better odds of surviving her.”

“Oh.” Lyle replied, blinking. He didn’t quite trust Cox, but there wasn’t as if he could really do anything at the present time. How exactly Cox had found his sister was a mystery, and one that he wasn’t quite yet ready to deal with. The car slowed down, and pulled into a gravel lot off the road, and stopped.

“Now you’re awake, and I can give you a proper check-up.” Cox announced, opening his door and tapping absently on the hood as he rounded the front of the car. Lyle tensed as his door was opened, and looked up to see Cox motioning to a stone bench only a few feet from them. “Over here.” Lyle unbuckled himself, and swung his legs out of the car- gritting his teeth when his knee once again reminded him that moving wasn’t a good thing. He suddenly realized that in addition to the knee, his was still wearing the loose, gray cotton clothes the Centre had provided for him to wear in lieu of the hospital gown, during the T-Board.

Before Lyle could voice any objections to actually getting out of the car, Cox had pulled him to his feet, and helped him over to the bench. Lyle watched as Cox retrieved a black bag from the car, and returned to the bench, opening it as he walked. Cox pulled out a pen light, and shone it in Lyle’s right eye.

“Don’t blink.” Was the only instruction Lyle received, as Cox flicked the light on and off several times, before moving on to the left eye. The same exercise was repeated, and Cox stepped back with a low, ‘hmm’. “Roll up your pant leg. I need to look at your knee.” Lyle slowly obeyed, wincing several times as he did so. Relatively new gauze tape covered the sore tissue that the stitches had only been recently removed from. Cox knelt, and carefully peeled the gauze away, and frowned.

“They made you walk on it, didn’t they?”

“Three or four flights of stairs.” Lyle tried to sound nonchalant, but he seriously doubted that he would ever really forget or be able to talk with ease about what had happened on that stairwell.

“Damn.” Cox murmured, gently prodding the knee. Lyle clenched his teeth, and Cox sighed. “It broke open the skin. It almost looks like they removed the stitches too soon, as if someone demanded-” The tone was playfully warning, and Lyle interrupted.

“Fine, I told them to take the stitches out. I wanted to leave the hospital as soon as possible, and I wasn’t expecting a T-Board.”

“Is anyone ever?” Cox retorted, pulling a few items out of the black bag. “I’m going to clean it and tape it up again. I’ll use some butterfly bandages, because it’s going to be a long while before I’ll be able to stitch it back up, so we won’t even bother.”

“Cox,” Lyle began, on an inquiring note, several minutes into the task Cox had described.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Helping you? Different reasons. Do you really need one?” He paused, and threw something in his bag. “I’m done. Let’s go.”



Miss Parker had, at Jarod’s insistence, taken a shower, and felt much better as a result. She was worried about Lyle, but Jarod seemed to be able to make that disappear just by looking at her. Miss Parker was enjoying being pampered all the time, for he didn’t act like it was a chore to go the extra mile for her. In fact, he seemed to love doing it, and making her happy. There had been a couple arguments since coming to the cabin, and the last one had ended with her laughing, for in the middle of yelling at him she had a sudden flashback of Debbie Broots asking her what the phrase ‘sexual tension’ meant. So, she stopped yelling, kissed Jarod on the cheek, and went to bed.

Miss Parker traveled down the stairs to the living room, and saw Jarod sitting on the couch, skimming a magazine and eating ice cream. She smiled, and tiptoed over to him. Miss Parker leaned over, and whispered in his ear.

“Want me to show you how to really eat ice cream?” She whispered seductively, making him jump.

“God! Parker, don’t scare me like that!”

“I like the sound of that.” She nodded thoughtfully, and Jarod felt suddenly out of the loop.

“What?”

“Parker. Just Parker.” Miss Parker said, sitting next to him on the couch. “And since we’re alone, and we’ve pretty much exhausted the cabin’s current resources, we need something else to do.” Jarod blushed, and dropped the magazine on the coffee table.

“Like what?”

“Well, we could sit here and stare at each other, or I can show you how to eat ice cream the right way.”

“You mean...have...” Jarod was suddenly at a loss for words, and Miss Parker laughed.

“Yes, I mean have mad sex. Which would you rather do?”

“Umm...whichever...you...feel...like...doing...” Jarod paused after each word, blushing profusely and starting to sweat, as she inched closer to him.

“I like the second one myself.”

“Me too.”



The sound of a car pulling into a driveway awoke Jarod, and he smiled lazily. Something, or someone warm, was lying on top of him, and he realized with a start that it was Parker. A car door slammed shut, and Jarod’s mind snapped fully awake. He wasn’t dressed, Parker wasn’t dressed, the living room was in shambles, and someone was outside- probably going to be requesting to come in within a few minutes.

“Parker, wake up!” He shook her gently. She mumbled, and looked up at him.

“What?”

“Quick, get up and put some clothes on. Someone’s here.” That woke her up- she sat up suddenly, and looked around. The next two minutes were hectic dressing, throwing pillows back onto the sofa, throwing ice cream cartons away, and straightening hair. They weren’t quite done when someone began knocking on the door.

Breathlessly, Jarod flung open the door and froze. Cox stood there, Lyle next to him. Lyle was leaning on Cox’s shoulder to keep the weight of his knee, and Cox smiled.

“Jarod. What a surprise. May we come in?”

Chapter Seven

“A smoky horizon is calling me back

The light fades to gray, and then onto black”


Jarod sat on the couch, stunned. Lyle sat on an oversized chair not ten feet from him, and Cox sat at the kitchen table talking to Parker in low, hushed tones. Lyle was looking around the cabin, attempting to look as if he actually wanted to be there, in Jarod’s presence. He wasn’t doing a very good job. Jarod concentrated on the floor. The silence was broken by Lyle’s bemused inquiry,

“Why is there a spoon in this chair?” Miss Parker’s twin held up a sticky, syrupy spoon that bore the remains of vanilla ice cream. Jarod leapt up, snatched the spoon with a rushed, “I’ll take that.”, and took it to the kitchen sink. Lyle studied Jarod’s irrational behavior for a moment, and then glanced at his sister to see her fighting off a deep crimson blush.

“Ohhh...” Lyle nodded with a knowing grin and a chuckle. “Ohhh...”

“Shut up!” Both Jarod and Parker chorused at the same time. Cox choked back a laugh, and the next thirty seconds found the small party carefully studying the floor, the table, anything that was down.



The car drove off, leaving Jarod and Parker alone once again. Jarod looped his arms around Parker’s shoulders, and kissed her on the top of the head.

“So, where are they going again?”

“Lyle’s going to spend a few months at Ben’s, and Cox is returning to Delaware.” Parker replied, leaning back into Jarod. She sighed and looked up at him, as his chocolate eyes filled with concern.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Do you trust Cox?”

“I trust him enough.” Was the simple answer.

“Let’s go camping.” Jarod suggested suddenly, looking down at her with a grin. He gave her a slight squeeze, and strode into the cabin, calling back over his shoulder. “I’ll start packing the food and stuff like that. Grab some clothes.” Parker let loose an exaggerated sigh, as she fought a smile, and went inside to select some things to wear.



Jarod sighed out of pure satisfaction, and the sigh was quickly followed by a yawn. He sat with his back to a log, and bare feet stretched towards the small campfire. Parker was leaning against him, and his arm was wrapped protectively around her.

“Parker?” He whispered, thinking she would be asleep.

“Hmm?” He slipped the velvet box out of his pocket, and fingered it thoughtfully. It was now or never. Now or never.

“Parker, will you...”

“What?”

“Would you ever consider...”

“Spit it out already!” Parker snapped sleepily.

“Will you marry me?” Jarod finally managed to say, popping the velvet box open and displaying it before her. “Will you?”

Chapter Eight


“I watch from a distance as they all mourn

My chest is on fire, my heart is torn”


“Will you?”

“Ohmigod...” Parker stuttered in surprise. “Ohmigod.”

“Yes or no will suffice.” Jarod laughed. “Yes would be preferred.”

“Yes! Ohmigod, yes!”

“Score!” Jarod murmured, slipping the ring onto her finger.

“What?”

“Catching up on modern pop-culture and slang.” Jarod grinned. “Score.”



Three months later...

The small wedding, attended by only a few people, was difficult nevertheless to put together. Sydney had taken vacation time, and Broots had as well. It took two well crafted alibis to explain why two of Miss Parker’s former co-workers were taking time off at the same time. Ben had graciously offered the use of his Inn for the ceremony and the reception, however small, and the invitation had been accepted readily by both Jarod and Parker.

When asked the question of her real name, and the use of it in the ceremony, Parker had laughed and told everyone she was just going by Parker– old habits die hard, and the absence of her first name was a very, very old habit.

So, it was a fine autumn morning when, in the second story of Ben’s inn, Parker was anxiously attempting to find her veil. Young Debbie Broots, the only other girl present, had joined in on the search but neither of the girls were having much luck. That is, until Debbie found and brought out tuxedo pants, stored in a box under the bed.

“Parker?” The young girl asked inquisitively, holding up the pants. Parker didn’t have an answer.

Meanwhile, in a room down the hall, Jarod was searching desperately for his pants. Clothed still in jeans that were oddly mismatched with the classy shirt and jacket he was wearing, he was having zero luck. Jarod was nearing a panicked state when he found a box in the closet– a box containing a veil.

Merely yards away from each other, the bride and groom puzzled over the missing items, and the items found. That is, until stones tapped against the windows, thrown from below. Both windows were thrown up, and Jarod and Parker stuck their heads out.

Lyle stood beneath them, wide mischievous grin on his face. “Missing something?” He called up. “If so, I know absolutely nothing about it. I’d ask Sydney.” An angry growl erupted from Parker’s throat, and Lyle entered Ben’s kitchen only moments later, asking for ice to place on the high-heel shaped mark on his forehead.

Debbie ran the pants to Jarod, and brought the veil back to Parker, and all was well.

That is, until everyone started to get woozy after a glass of punch, and Jarod found Lyle shattering bottles of wine on the back porch...



“Honeymoon?” Sydney inquired casually the next morning, over a cup of coffee. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Oh, Jarod wants to go to this resort in California.”

“Fancy?”

“Disney World.” Lyle, who was listening from the other side of the room, lost his mouthful of coffee. Ben whacked him upside the head with a dish towel, and handed it to the younger Parker twin.

“Wipe it up.” Lyle glared at Ben with a feigned scowl, and Parker smiled to herself. She had a feeling from the very beginning of the whole mess that Ben Miller would make a very good tamer for her younger brother.

“But, I told him I’d rather go to Las Verdad, and he’s just as thrilled.”

“The Truth? How ironic...” Sydney mused quietly. Parker nodded.

“That’s what Jarod said.”

“What did I say?” Jarod asked in a sleepy voice, as he entered the kitchen.

“Las Verdad being an ironic choice of resort.”

“Oh.” Ben handed Jarod a cup of coffee as he passed, and Jarod kissed Parker on the forehead before sitting down at the table. “Yeah. We’re leaving this afternoon.”

“Have fun.” Sydney intoned. “I’m leaving this afternoon as well, but it’s only so I can start work again tomorrow.”

“Have fun.” Jarod returned with a grin.

Chapter Nine

“I take a great sigh of regret and lost friend

I know in my soul that we’ve come to the end”


The resort was wonderful, restful bubble baths and moon light strolls, a lot of privacy and uninterrupted afternoons in the bedroom (afternoons that weren’t quite spent sleeping). They had dressed casual, and gone out for dinner in the hotel café. Dinner was winding down, and Jarod had just said something extremely goofy.

Parker laughed, as Jarod took a bite of the pudding pie. He grinned at her, and they sat in silence as he chewed and swallowed. She turned her head, to look around her at the hotel café decor. A jerk on the table made her jump, and she swivelled back around, the words dying on her lips.

“Jarod, are you-” She froze. Jarod’s upper body was sprawled out on the table, as if he had fallen there, and his shoulders were twitching in a seizure like motion. Before she could even make it around the table to see his face, the twitching stopped. She wasn’t even aware that she was screaming until later- when someone pulled her away from the still body. All she could think was that Jarod wasn’t looking at her, though his eyes were open. She had seen that look before, and knew beyond a doubt that Jarod was looking at death.



“Mrs. Russell?” Parker looked up worriedly, at the white-coated doctor who had just walked into the room. Her face held hope, hope that there was some slim chance. And also grief- she knew within that it was too late. “I’m truly sorry to tell you this, but your husband is dead.”

“Oh, god, no...” Was the only thing to escape her mouth. Thoughts of poisoned food, the Centre’s revenge, all flooding into her mind.

“Did your husband have any allergies?”

“Pistachios.” She replied, distantly, as if it had been the last thing on her mind. The reply also had a note of dumbness to it, for she didn’t understand what the doctor was trying to say.

“Ma’am, your husband died of anaphylactic shock. We found traces of pistachio in his system- he was apparently eating something containing the nut only moments before his death.” The doctor paused, and Parker looked down at the floor, biting back sobs and blinking back stinging tears.

“Is there anyone you’d like to contact, call? Any family?”

“No...” She shook her head. “Wait. Yes. My brother. My brother and a friend of Jarod’s.”

“Do you have their names and numbers? I’ll have a nurse call, unless you’d rather do it.” The doctor pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

“Lyle Parker, 205-555-8620. And Dr. Sydney Green, 355-555-5763.”

“Very well. Can I get you some coffee? Anything to drink or eat?”

“Coffee...” Parker nodded, mouth dry and system going into shock. She was no longer fighting tears, for they were no longer coming. It was as if the reality had quickly faded, leaving an amazed shell who watched all in speechless silence.

“Coffee it is, then.” The doctor walked to the door to leave the room, and Parker stood.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Bose. Dr. Andrew Bose. Most just call me Dr. Andy, though.” Parker wordlessly gave an affirmative shake of her head, and watched him leave the room. She sat back down, and waited.

Chapter Ten

“Far in the distance, I hear a high sound

With it my sorrow, King, is crowned”


Parker stalked through the Centre doors, high heels tapping out a nearly forgotten tune. A tune of power, a tune of loss. A bittersweet song of cold, hardened hearts. Many eyes followed her as she trekked down to a once abandoned office, a sheen of dust relaying the lonely status of the room. She entered and sat in the high-backed desk chair, calculating eyes of blue ice surveying the territory. Eyes that held no emotion, no love for life. Dead eyes.

Behind the eyes of void space, was a mind sharp and ready to work. Or at least a mind trying to convince it’s soul to do so. But the soul wasn’t listening- it was almost won over, bought out. Slipping towards the shadow, to become that which was once hated. The shadow was winning. And before all was lost to the meaningless blackness, the night, the mind had one sorrowful thought. A line that came too late-

“Alas, the bells, ever on they toll

Cursed am I, for I sold my soul.”

A voice not the mind’s own came, and whispered but one question.

“Is this what you wanted, Parker?”

Parker answered, with a silent, final tear.

“No, Jarod. It’s what they wanted.”

Then, all was blackness. The void had come, and bells were clanging loudly in the distant heavens.