Disclaimer is I don’t own them and don’t “pretend” to.




The Truth Hurts
Part 1
by N.R. Levy




“First one to the answers wins.” Wasn’t that what he’d said? Well, Parker thought, she had won. And God, how she wished she hadn’t.

She lay on a concrete slab, her wrists and ankles shackled into place by an old yet menacing set of manacles. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her that such a thing existed inside the monolithic Scottish castle in which she’d found all of her answers.

Their answers, Parker corrected herself, her mind turning back to Jarod.

She didn’t know what to expect next. They wouldn’t kill her, she knew that now. The evidence she’d found made it clear that Parker was far too valuable to the Centre’s founding members for them to kill her. But they would do something.

A shiver ran through Parker’s body as she waited in the darkened silence of the little room where she was being held. Then the eyes of the woman who now was her worst enemy formed in Parker’s mind, and she began to fixate on building the face, making it come into sharp focus so that she could direct all of her anger and fear and pain at that one image.

Damn her. Damn her for what she had done to all of them, and mostly damn her for what the truth would do to Jarod.

Despite her precarious situation, Parker couldn’t regret that it was she who now faced the horror of their pasts alone. If he had seen those journals...just imaging the heartbreak he would go through...no, heartbreak was an understatement, and even their fledgling new relationship might not be enough to help him survive the shattering reality of who had constructed the nightmare his life had been.

Parker took a deep breath and forced the terrible woman’s image from her mind’s eye, instead focusing on an image of Jarod. The last few months—them working together and learning to trust each other again—they had been a gift to her she had never imagined possible. That their newfound camaraderie had turned to passion had surprised them both, and yet it seemed in some ways the path they had always been meant to take.

‘It was.’

The voice inside of Parker’s head reminded her that even her memory of her time with Jarod was now tainted by the terrible reality of truth. The journals had made it clear, hadn’t they? Genetic construction...emotional manipulation...she and Jarod had been bred to be a couple, a couple who would rule the Centre together. Only it wasn’t, as Parker might have assumed, with Jarod at the helm and she by his side. No, as it turned out the joke was on her. Jarod’s escape, her pursuit, it had all been a test...one set in motion to determine if she was ready to assume her place at the helm of the Centre.

Parker had failed. She didn’t care. She only cared that her mother’s innocence had been corrupted by a friend she had so trusted, and that that one single betrayal had led to her mother’s downfall as well as, it seemed, to Parker’s own. And still those tragedies would pale in comparison to the pain Jarod would feel if he ever found out the truth.

A set of heels clicked on the floor outside, indicating that someone was approaching. Parker wondered if the sound of her own heels on the floors of the Centre had caused the same reaction in others as these made in her—a mixture of fear and hatred she could barely control.

The door opened, and she knew from the scent of jasmine that the woman had entered the room. Parker felt her stomach tighten into a tight ball.

“You realize that you know too much. You know things I can’t allow you to tell Jarod, ever.”

Parker turned, glaring at her with eyes so full of rage that the woman actually felt the heat of it. Good. That spirit was what Miss Parker had been bred for, and she was pleased to see it still intact despite the revelations she had come to discover in the castle’s safe.

“You won’t kill me.” The younger woman’s voice rang out, and her visitor stepped closer, her once blond hair, now tainted with gray, falling slightly on her face.

“No, I’d never kill you. But I’m afraid I’ll have to make certain you can’t share that information. You’re not ready to take your place yet. Once you are, I’ll give you all of your memories back, don’t worry.”

That got Parker’s attention, and she looked up, her eyes burning with curiosity.

“What are you talking about?”

The woman smiled and stepped still closer.

“You know. You’ve been dreaming about it, haven’t you? Something since you and Jarod have been back together...it doesn’t seem right. And the dream explains it, but you don’t want to believe it, do you?”

Parker felt her blood run cold as she remembered the dream that had plagued her since the first night she and Jarod had spent together. It had seemed a memory, yet it was an impossible one...she and Jarod, together, dancing in her old office at Corporate as if they were celebrating something. A normal couple, enjoying a happy moment, but that could never have happened, could it? And if it had, then how could this bitch know about it?

“I was watching you.” The cold voice of her new enemy drew Parker’s attention back to the present, and she leveled her blue eyes on her nemesis once again. “I heard you describe the dream to Jarod. Only it wasn’t a dream, Miss Parker. And your gift, your ‘inner sense’, is telling you that.”

“Jarod and I were never together before the last few weeks, not like that.”

“Oh, but you were. We wanted to see what would happen if we simply allowed your relationship to take its natural course. So we “freed” Jarod, and the two of you found each other so quickly it was almost funny. It proved to us that all we had done to pave the way had been effective. Still, it didn’t answer the quintessential question – could you destroy that which you had loved more than life itself? When you could, you would be ready to take your place.”

“You wanted me to kill him?” The shock in Parker’s voice hung there in the room like a dead weight until the woman spoke again.

“No, we would have stopped you from killing him. The point was to see if you would be willing to. You see, I learned that to have true power, you have to be willing to sacrifice that which you love. It is something you still have to learn, my darling. But you will. For now, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go to sleep for a while.”

Parker’s eyes locked with hers as understanding dawned on the younger woman. If they had been able to steal a whole relationship with Jarod, replace it with the rage she had felt toward him these past five years...

“What are you going to do? Margaret? Margaret!”

Hearing her name, Jarod’s mother stopped and turned to face the woman who carried the face of her long-dead best friend, a friend whose dream she had stolen and corrupted in order to build the dynasty that would one day belong to their two amazing children.

“You’ll have him back again, someday.”

With that, Margaret stepped into the shadows of the hallway, and a team of doctors entered the room, undeterred in their mission by the screams of the terrified young woman. Margaret kept walking until she had reached her private rooms, Miss Parker’s screams left behind in the recesses of the castle.

Carefully, she selected a dress and sweater to wear out, and she brushed her hair into what she’d consider an appropriately motherly-style. It was time for her to put her true face, that of the Centre’s Founding Chairman, to rest and instead put on the mask of Margaret Russell, hapless mother of kidnapped children. She had tracks to cover, and perhaps a brief sighting of his missing mommy would keep Jarod distracted long enough to complete Miss Parker’s re-education.

Yes, she thought, just enough time to bury the past again.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. . . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 2
by Trish



Jarod stood in the center of the room, feeling surrounded and overwhelmed. The feelings were justified, as he was surrounded; by tables covered with nic-nacs and mementos, heavy Victorian furniture and tiny braided rugs that lay on the polished wood, craftily awaiting an opportunity to skid beneath an unsuspecting foot.

The owner of this Highlands bed-and-breakfast, sixty-five year old Violet Penfield never threw anything away, so when he and Parker had first came here seeking answers, she had repressed the urge to run out the front door, and head back to Blue Cove, all because of the feisty old woman.

"Ye canna go, lass," the silver-haired woman had said to her, as she stopped Parker with a gnarled hand on her arm. He had supressed the urge to laugh outright at that moment because he valued his life and the new found relationship that was growing between them even more.

The creaking of a door opening caused Jarod's thoughts to revert to real reason for the return visit to Inverness. The reason that he felt so overwhelmed was because Violet Penfield was dying and had demanded to see both of them. Jarod had tried to arrive as soon as he had received the summons from the old dowager but unfortunately had been unable to wrap up his pretend as an personal attache to the British Ambassador. While still in London, Jarod had a brief conversation with Miss Parker in which he had explained why he was delayed and that he would be arriving in a day or two barring any unforseen complications. He also told her that he hoped to have a few more answers about the photograph and that he would share them with her once he arrived in Inverness.

"Jarod," silhouetted in the doorway was the form of Violet Penfield's grand-daughter, Marley," Ye'll be spending the night here. Grannie's waitin for ye." She was small, barely five feet but with eyes as green as an emerald and she launched herself into Jarod's arms. She jarred him with the impact of her embrace. Jarod's arms went around her shoulders in reflex and they clung for a moment, her face tight against his.

"Marley," he said, taking a deep breath, his expression mingled with uncertainty and sadness.

"Dinna grieve for Grannie," she said firmly, as she pulled out of his arms," An' I dinna want your lass to wring me neck for hugging ye."

"Parker's here," he asked, his eyes locking on the wooden door.

"Nay, dinna she come back from the airport with ye."

"No, she didn't know when I was arriving. I didn't even know myself. Marley, you're sure that she went to the airport to meet me." Panic was starting to set in, as Jarod started thinking of all the possibilities as to why Parker wasn't here at the bed-and-breakfast.

"Ye dinna tell her," Marley looked at Jarod, confusion definately written on her features.

"I haven't talked to Parker since London."

"That canna be right, Jarod. I'll tell ye this, she was wi' Grannie Violet and then Donal said that someon' rang up for her. She dinna tell me anything, I thought it must ha' been ye who rang her."

"Where's Donal, Marley? I need to know about that phone call. I need to talk with Violet, Grannie," Jarod quickly said as Marley's eyebrows arched at Jarod's use of her Grandmother's name.

"Donal's in Elgin til tomorra. An' Grannie's waitin for ye."

Marley nodded and ushered him ahead of her and up the wooden stairs and in to Grannie Violet's bedroom.

disclaimer is in part one.



The Truth Hurts
Part 3
by Shannon



"Water?"

The edge of a glass was pressed to her lips, and she roused herself long enough to drink, careful not to spill it. A hand pressed briefly against her forehead and dropped away without comment.

The room was tilting drunkenly, and small flashing lights kept coming before her eyes.

"What happened?" the woman's tone was harsh.

"She be a fighter, this lass, Ma'am," a male voice responded," Tried to make a run for it when we moved her from the cell."

Donal Ferguson turned toward the older woman, who was standing next to the bed, with a grim smile shaking his head. What little light that penetrated the castle's dark recesses shone on the rough planes of his face, deep lines of fatigue ran through.

Parker squinted up at the voice. The fever distorted her vision, but there seemed something vaguely familiar about the fine-boned face. She was burning, she could feel the flames behind her eyes when she closed them. Her lips were cracked and sore from the heat, but it was better than the chills that came at intervals. At least when she was fevered, she could lie still; the shaking of the chills woke the sleeping demons of her dreams.

Or were the dreams reality?

"You best control her," the woman retorted; then started to turn on her heels but not before she saw awareness flicker in Parker's clouded blue eyes, as the thought of recognization came. "Or else. I have an appearance to make."

There was no response to this; all of them knew the answer too well.

Parker turned her face to the wall, praying for what, she didn't exactly know. Yet a wave of longing and regret for someone brushed the outer fringes of her mind. Then it was gone. Tears trickled slowly from under her closed lids, and she tried to hid them from those still in the room.

***

Jarod noticed how pale Voilet was was when he entered the room. In fact, Grannie cocked one brow at him and small lines were visible around her eyes. She gave him a brief, distracted glance, and tried to smile. Jarod moved quickly toward the woman's bedside, reaching for and taking hold of the gnarled hand. He squeezed it gently.

"She left for the Caer," her eyes, dark blue and unsettled.

"Alone? Why?" he let out a long breath then dropped his head down toward his chest, his eyes locking on to Violet's. His eyes alwas reminded her of a hawk's eyes, as though he could see a good deal further than most people.

"She dinna want to wait for ye, Jarod," a small smile on her lips as she watched him. "Determined your lass be. Are ye alright, Jarod?"

"I think so. What about you?"

"I be dying, lad and there be nothing done to stop it. Ye dinna want to listen to me talk. Go, find your lass and the truth."

***

She felt as though she had been struck and needed to lie still until the giddness and the lights that pulsed behind her eyelids with each heartbeat stopped. She kept her eyes closed tight, and swallowed hard, trying to gather her scattered wits about the single appalling thought that sliced through her brain like a bolt of lightning through a tree. If she could only remember.

disclaimer is in part one.



The Truth Hurts
Part 4
by N.R. Levy






Jarod tried desperately to shake the growing sense of dread that was trying to overwhelm him. Surely, nothing could have gone that wrong. Parker had gone ahead to the castle without him. It was not the first time she had acted alone, and she was more than capable of caring for herself. Perhaps it was just the change in their status that was making him worry so much.

"Perhaps it's the mysterious phone call, Jarod," said the voice inside of his head. Smiling slightly, he wished he, like Parker, heard trustworthy voices in his head, and not just the annoying old-tape of self-doubt that plagued him whenever she was concerned.

Driving down the road, headed toward the rendezvous point they had used before, Jarod thought back to the mysterious photo they had both received so many months ago, and how it had led to this new and still landmine-filled territory of their relationship. If he'd thought simply trying to win back her friendship was challenging...well, that task seemed as simple as Hercules' 12 labors to him now when compared to navigating the waters of being Parker's...actually, he still wasn't sure what to call it. Boyfriend seemed all wrong and lover somehow didn't seem descriptive enough.

It amused Jarod to no end that he was capable of being anything, yet he couldn't quite describe what he actually was. For the first time in so long, he was something, and here he was, lost for the name of it. He had, once up on a time, been someone's son, someone's brother, someone's friend, yet those all seemed labels left behind him now. His friends and family were on the other side of the world. Sydney was back at the Centre, still trying to "find" him. His father, the boy and Emily were in California, hiding from the Centre while Emily completed her recovery, which had included intensive physical therapy. Ethan was still among the missing, his only contact at all coming in a cryptic message received by Parker more than two months ago. They were still trying to figure out the meaning behind his e-mail: "There is danger in the truth. There is safety in remembering."

Shaking his head, Jarod turned off the road, parking in front of MacLeod's, the pub he and Parker had used as their base of operations before meeting up with Violet. She would stop here, if for no other reason than to say hello to Connor, and the old man might be able to tell him how long it had been since she passed. He looked up as he closed the car door, his eyes taking in the sun's rays as they peeked through the clouds that had earlier doused the countryside with rain. Shivering a bit, he made his way inside.

"Jarod, it's about time ye made it back."

"Good to see you, Connor."

The two men embraced warmly, then Jarod took a seat at the bar as the pub owner returned to his duties behind the bar.

"Connor, have you seen Parker today?"

"Aye, Lad, I have. She's agreed to run off wit me to Tahiti. 'Friad that's bad news for you, eh, friend?"

Connor saw Jarod try to smile, but worry was the stronger feature that showed through on the younger man's face.

"You're not worried about that blue-eyed lass, are ye? If ye are, ye'r just bein' damnable foolish. Trouble'd be too afraid to mess with that one."

Sighing, Jarod nodded his head. He'd been inside barely two minutes and already he felt his nerves beginning to unravel. Something was wrong.

"How long ago did she stop by?"

"Quite a while now. She popped in 'bout half past one. Said she was hed'in up to the caer."

Standing, Jarod moved and stood in front of the window, his eyes searching outside, hoping to will Parker's car to pull up into the driveway. She could have been to the castle and started back by now, and chances were, he'd pass her on the road. Or she could be at the castle or on the road somewhere and be in terrible trouble. Jarod quickly turned back toward Connor.

"If she stops back and she hasn't seen me, tell her to wait here for me."

"Aye, I'll never mind keeping that Lass within reach. You go on now."

Jarod nodded once more, then headed out of the pub and back toward his car. He was just climbing in when his eyes fell on the woman returning to her car at the small shop three buildings over from Connor's place. She had long blond hair, tinted with gray, and something about her seemed very familiar to Jarod. The woman paused before climbing in, her head turning in Jarod's direction, her eyes focused out somewhere in the distance. It was in that moment that the Pretender fell into almost total shock.

"Mom."

He whispered the word, and by the time he thought to yell it, she had already climbed into her car and closed the door. Realizing it would be foolish to try and run after her, Jarod did the only thing he could do - he climbed into his own car and drove in the same direction as the woman. He followed her as closely as he dared, yet he had to slow down when he noticed her driving faster, perhaps spooked by his presence.

The two cars continued down the road, all the while getting closer and closer to the mysterious castle that might house all of the secrets about Jarod and Parker's pasts. The fact that this woman who looked so like his mother was heading in that direction - it only made Jarod's belief that much stronger that he was in fact following the right path. That all changed when the car that perhaps held his long-sought-after mother took a sharp right turn and began traveling down another road.

Inside the lead vehicle of this mini-pursuit, Margaret took out her cell phone and dialed.

"It's time. Do as we discussed, and do it now. Donal, don't be an idiot. Of course send Fergus to do it. I don't want Jarod to know you're involved. Now, do as you were told."

With those words spoken, Margaret disconnected the line and drove on, her eyes checking the mirror to make certain Jarod was still behind her. She wondered how much further he would follow. The distance would tell her a lot about her son's commitment to Miss Parker.

In the other vehicle, Jarod's mind swirled. This was the one person from his past he had been unable to find, and yet Parker was somewhere, possibly in trouble. He continued following the car, yet his mind left him, instead traveling to a not-so-long-ago night at Violet's inn. On that night, he had found something he had only dreamed of, and now here he was, such a short time later, risking everything that night had spawned with Parker in order to chase a dream.

After all, what were the chances that this woman was really his mother? So many times in the last five years, he'd been certain he'd seen her only to realize he'd been mistaken. And because that photo of she and Catherine Parker had brought him to this country - brought them, he corrected - perhaps it had fueled his imagination into wishing he'd seen his mother.

That thought was all he needed to slam onto his brakes and make a swift u-turn that would take him back to the castle's main road. Parker was what mattered now, and once he found her and made certain she was safe, they would find his mother together.

Margaret watched the car spin around and head back down the road. She turned around and parked, waiting a while to travel back herself so that her plan could play itself out. It had taken Jarod only fifteen minutes to decide on his priorities. That was impressive. It would be interesting to see how his devotion was tested once he and his beloved were reunited.






Another half hour of driving time passed for Jarod, his mind fixed now on one goal - finding Parker. Still, he couldn't help but stop when he saw a man in an old broken down truck on the side of the road.

"Can I offer you a hand?"

"Oh, thanks, Lad, but I'm 'bout done here. Bad tire. Do ye mind if I ask, where are ye off to? There's only a few small farms and the castle out this way."

"I'm headed toward the castle, actually," replied Jarod. "A friend of mine was going there, and I'm trying to find her."

"Ah, ye wouldn't be speakin' of the blue-eyed lass, now would ye?"

At that description, Jarod's eyes lit up. "Yes, you've seen her?"

"Aye, man. She passed by her nearly an hour ago. Offered to help me to. I told her to get on home before it got dark."

"So she was headed back to town?"

"Aye, she was."

Jarod sighed with relief. She would stop at Connor's, and when he returned, she would be waiting there for him.

"You're sure I can't offer you any help?"

"No, Lad. Go on and find yer lass. This isn't a night to be alone."

"Have a good night then, and thanks."

Jarod climbed back into his car, his heart a thousand times lighter. She was fine. He must have missed her while he'd been chasing his ghost down the other road. Part of him wanted to kick himself in the hind quarters for getting distracted, but Jarod reminded himself that now it didn't matter. In a little while, they would be together again.

As Jarod drove off, Fergus looked on, almost feeling sorry for the poor boy. He was about to lose everything, and he would have no idea that his own mother had been the architect of it all. Sighing, he reached into his truck and pulled out a cell phone.

"Donal, tell her it's done."






He was fifteen minutes from Connor's, fifteen minutes from Parker when the flashing lights up ahead came into view. Jarod pulled over quickly, upset to be delayed, but knowing it was the right thing to do. Someone might need a doctor, and he could certainly fit the bill. He saw the black car, it's front end smashed into the tree. There were several police cars there, and he headed over toward the man who appeared to be in charge.

"Is anyone hurt?"

The police officer looked up and eyed Jarod cautiously.

"Aye. We've an ambulance on the way."

"I'm a doctor back in the States. I could help."

"It doesn't look to be too serious, but we can't get her to wake up. Couldn't hurt to have ye take a look."

Jarod nodded and turned toward the car as the officer waved to the others, indicating it was okay to let this new player approach. In a few strides, Jarod was at the car door, which was standing open. He leaned inside and suddenly there was no air left in his lungs as he saw who was lying unconscious in the front seat.

"Parker."

Disclaimer is in part 1 and I don't own the main characters but do claim Mairin MacKenna. . . .BlackDiamond it's all yours. . . .Enjoy and have fun. . . Feedback is appreciated. . .I didn't do justice to the accents as the others but I did try. . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 5
by Michelle E. Haley



Jarod's heart squeezed like a fist, then went on beating in a heavy, uncomfortable manner at the sight of Parker unconcious form. Slipping into doctor mode, he started to assess Parker's condition. As he reached inside his leather jacket for the small penlight, his thumb gently pulled her eyelid up to reveal its blue orb. Rapidly, he waved the penlight in front of the eye, then repeated the motion with the other eye, watching how her pupils reacted to the brief flash. He made a mental note that her skin was clammy and pale, her breathing normal, and even though her pulse steady, she was still unresponsive to the external stimuli. Starting at the base of her neck, he probed her skull gently for any sign of head trauma. It wasn't until he brushed some stray strands of dark hair from the right side of her face that he noticed the beginnings of a contusion above her temple.

"Where's that ambulance?" he shouted, then turned his attention back to Parker.

" It be on it's way, lad," the constable replied as he leaned into the car.

The faint wails of the siren could be heard in the distance and soon the red light was pulsing like an artery, bathing the accident scene in blood.

"There it be, now."

Jarod remained in front seat of the car, his left hand on top of Parker's, the other on the curve of her chest feeling it rise and fall. His voice gently urging her to wake, but to no avail. The paramedics quickly alighted from the ambulance with their gear and a gurney. Jarod alighted from the car and allowed the paramedics to place a collar around Parker's neck to protect and stablize her from any further injuries.

Stepping away from the scene, but still close enough to keep an eye on Parker, Jarod removed his cellular phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. A quick flip of his wrist revealed the keypad, his finger hit the first number and he placed it to his ear. The call was answered quickly by a female voice. Jarod felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders as he informed Marley about Parker's accident and what he needed from her. Suddenly there were voices, loud shouting, which casued him to return to the car and with his help they removed Parker from the car and placed her on the gurney. The clickety-click of the gurney's wheels on the pavement and Jarod gave the impression of being someone in control as he climbed into the back of the ambulance, taking up a position by her side.

The ride to the hospital seemed like an eternity to Jarod. Yet, it was only a matter of minutes before they were removing Parker from the back of the ambulance and through the emergency room doors of the hospital. It was about a half hour later when Marley Penfield hurried through the swinging doors and stopped dead at the sight of him.

". . . Your lass she be . . .constable said. . . black ice, a skid. . . . wit' Doctor MacKenna. . . brought what ye asked for. . ." she chattered as Jarod and her strode through the swinging doors, into the brightly light room. Parker was on a gurney in one of the emergency room cubicles; a spare, anonymous space.

" Mairin MacKenna this be . . ." Marley stopped and stared at Jarod, who extended a hand but his eyes stayed riveted on the listless form of Miss Parker.

"Dr. Jarod Carmichael."

"Marley, glad ye are here, I can use the help. We haven't been able to rouse her, Dr. Carmichael."

"It's Jarod, please," he replied.

"Best schedule an MRI, Mairin. Ye'll want to stay, won't ye, Jarod?" Marley said as she laid a hand on his arm.

"I'm not going anywhere till Parker wakes up. I appreciate you wanting to be here helping but shouldn't you be with Grannie"

"Grannie, she be wi' Geilie, Jarod. Grannie tol' me to git here. That her dream was comin' true."

"Grannie and her dreams," Jarod chuckled slightly.

"Ye shouldna laugh at Grannie's dreams, lad," Dr. MacKenna replied as she resumed her place next to Parker bed, checking her eyes again.

"Believe me, Parker and I don't, not anymore," Jarod pulled a chair from the other side of the bed closer, and placed Parker's left hand in his, while his other brushed her forehead gently.

Once the battery of tests that the doctors had ordered were complete, Parker was placed into a private room where she lay, still unconcious.

Okay, everyone, Blackdiamond had some stuff that held up the next part for two weeks, and to be fair to those waiting to write, I decided, as the RR originator, to reclaim part 6 and do it. I wrote Blackdiamond to let her know and invited her to claim another part when she’s ready. Enjoy --
Disclaimer in Part 1




The Truth Hurts
Part 6
by N.R. Levy



Twelve hours had passed, and Parker had not made a sound. To Jarod, that made the twelve hours seem like twelve weeks. Nothing, not so much as a moan of displeasure when they’d taken her blood or rolled her downstairs for the MRI – she had given no indication that her soul was still inside of her body.

The good news was that Dr. MacKenna’s tests had all come back negative, meaning there was no indication that Parker had suffered brain damage or a serious head trauma. The bad news was that she was still unconscious, and no one understood why. Everything they checked-- blood, nerve responses--everything came back normal, which meant they were no closer now to finding out what Parker’s injury was than they’d been when Jarod had found her lying in her car by the roadside.

A loud thunderclap struck, and Jarod reached out and took up her hand in his own again. Marley had long since given up trying to convince him to go home and rest, and Dr. MacKenna had finally gone to get some sleep herself, leaving him alone with Parker. As he stared at her and the cold, damp night began to seep into his bones, Jarod couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the conversation he’d had earlier with Marley, just after they’d taken Parker off to do some more tests.

“Marley, what did you mean about Violet’s dream coming true?”

“Ah, Jarod, she had a terrible one ‘bout you and the lass. That someone ye trusted had trapped the two of ye on opposite sides of a piece of glass. She said no matter how hard ye two tried, you couldn’t get to one another.”

Just hearing those words, that they “couldn’t get to each other,” made Jarod’s heart tighten. So many years of their lives, hadn’t that been the truth of it? Perhaps, rather than dreaming about something in the future, what Granny Violet had really dreamt of was their past. He was about to say so when Marley continued.

“The worst part, she said, be that you and the lass had trusted the wrong person...that was how ye got put apart.”

A nurse had approached then, saying that there was a phone call for Marley. She’d gone off to take it and returned a short time later with news that Violet had gotten worse. Jarod had insisted she return home then. Violet had been too good to them to die without her beloved granddaughter by her side.

Unfortunately, as the time passed and his mind began to plague him, Jarod was beginning to think that there was more to Grannie Violet’s dream than he’d originally thought. It did seem that, throughout the years they’d known each other, something always did manage to come between them. The Centre, Mr. Parker, Sydney, her going away to school – there was always some force pulling them in opposite directions. Was it happening again? Had they found each other only to have that terrible pre-ordained dark cloud find them once again?

He shook his head and tried to push those thoughts away, but Jarod found it impossible. Something felt so wrong to him. The police theorized that Parker had lost control on black ice, but Jarod had driven that same road and hadn’t had any problems. Why had Parker, a woman who thought 100 miles per hour was a safe cruising speed, lost control of her car on the easiest stretch of the road?

He was nearly fixated on this line of thought, but Jarod’s mind switched gears instantly when he felt Parker’s hand move slightly against his own. He moved closer to her bedside, his eyes locked on her face. Yes, he saw it, the first signs of her coming around. One minute passed, then another, and then a few more, but finally her eyelids began to blink open, and her free hand moved to her head, shielding her eyes from the light in the room. Jarod instantly noticed how sensitive she seemed to be, though the main light was switched off, and only the small light to the side of the bed was on.

“Beautiful. What the hell happened to me?” Her voice was ragged, but strong, and it made Jarod’s heart lighten to hear it.

“You were in a car accident.”

Jarod had barely finished the sentence before Parker sat bolt upright in bed, pulling her hand free of his hold as she looked anxiously around the room.

“Jarod? What the hell are you doing here? Where is here, anyway?”

“The hospital in Inverness.”

“As in Scotland?” Parker’s hand returned to her head, this time rubbing at the center of her forehead as if she were trying to push something away.

“Yes, Parker, Inverness, Scotland. Don’t you remember?”

As Jarod spoke, he moved closer to her again, his hand reaching for hers. But he felt his blood run cold as Parker ripped her hand away again, her blue eyes leveling on him with a cold gaze he knew all to well.

“Look, Jarod, the Florence Nightingale thing’s already gotten old, okay? So back off.”

He’d been hit in the stomach with a lead pipe and had it hurt less than the tone of her voice. It was as if nothing from the past few months had ever happened, as if them coming together, first as allies and then as lovers, was a figment of his imagination. His whole body began to shake with the impact of what that meant before the doctor that always loomed in his brain managed to begin processing information. As quickly as his heartache had begun to rise, it change from emotional pain to medical concern.

“Parker, what’s the last thing you remember?”

She looked up at him with eyes full of annoyance, but just hearing the question made her begin to think about it, and within moments, she had an answer.

“The picture – we both got e-mailed the picture of our mothers. What did I do, go out and drink too much?”

He wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms right then, because he knew what he was about to say would terrify her, but he couldn’t, not now. She would only push him away, and he didn’t need to cause her anymore upset than he was going to have to by telling her the truth.

“That picture, Parker, it was e-mailed to us four months ago.”

Her mouth fell open, and she wanted to yell at him, to scream at him and tell him that he was lying, that he was trying to play games with her, but she didn’t. She said nothing because she was too busy listening to the tiny voices whose mutterings began to take clear shape in her mind.

“There is danger in the truth. There is safety in remembering.”

***

The night had turned especially cold, and Margaret climbed from the bed to stoke the fire in her bedroom. Jarod would come soon. She knew that. It was simply impossible for her to erase both of their memories this time, and so Jarod would know that something was wrong. But that very knowledge would provide Margaret the opportunity she needed to “fix” the situation to her advantage.

She had learned one lesson. Her son and his mate had grown far too close this time. The session needed to wipe the last four months from Miss Parker’s mind was twice as powerful as the one they’d used five years ago. Their bond was growing, and that meant she had very little time left to mold the heirs into the image she wanted. That meant coming up with a plan to use Miss Parker’s sudden “memory loss” to help accomplish that goal. The question was how?

A knock sounded on her door, and Margaret walked over and opened it. Donal Ferguson stood outside, his face cast downward so he would not have to look at her.

“Sorry to bother, ma’am, but I best be gettin’ back. Word is Miss Violet won’t last much longer.”

“Then go, and remember, Donal, you did the right thing. I’m sure your little grandson will think so.”

Donal nodded, his eyes staying on the floor.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Margaret secured the door as the old man walked away. Funny how time changes things. There were days, long ago, when using a small child to control someone else would have troubled her. But those days were long gone, buried with Catherine’s goodness and the innocence of their children. But it had all been for a greater good; it had been Catherine who didn’t understand that. Catherine and Charles. She wondered where her do-gooder husband was now. Probably off caring for Emily. So be it. For the time being, none of the others were of concern. All that mattered was finally bringing Miss Parker and Jarod into their rightful places within the Centre.

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 7
by Lizzy aka chopsticks




Miss Parker had finally fallen into a restless sleep after finding out that her last memory was four months old. After the initial shock had passed, she lashed out. She tore up the pillows and tore at the bed. She knocked over the bedside lamp and even the table. All the while, Jarod just watched.

He was keeping his concern for her buried, until now. Now he let the silent tears fall. He let out all the pain that came with knowing that every intimate experience, every perfect moment, every happy sigh, every smile, was gone from his best friend and lover's memory. He felt the salty tears run down his cheeks to his mouth, but did nothing to stop them or dry them. He just let them fall.

***

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Mr. Parker asked Margaret over the phone.

"Yes, it had to be done. There was no way around it, they would have destroyed the Centre instead of leading it."

"You've wiped their memories five times so far! They won't be able to handle anymore without permanent damage!" he screamed into the phone as he slammed it back into it's holder.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself as he turned to look at the view out of his window.

***

"Where has Miss Parker been?" Sydney came up and asked Broots at his little work station.

"I.. I don't know. She was supposed to be back by now!" Broots stammered out while watching her malevolent twin come into the room.

Sydney whipped around at the sound of the door closing, half-expecting Miss Parker to come waltzing through the door barking out orders. He was definitely not prepared for what he saw come in. There was Lyle, in pink suit with a dog. A poodle, to be more exact, that had fluffy pink hair and pink bows in the tuft of fur by it's ears.

"What the...?" asked Sydney in confusion after seeing this odd image.

"It's my new dog Sydney! Isn't she just the cutest?" Lyle asked as he picked her up and started to play with her.

"Uh-huh," Syd said distractedly, wondering how the hell Lyle could be so nice.

Lyle finally finished playing with his new pooch and looked up to see the bewildered faces of both Sydney and Broots.

"What? I can't have a dog?" Lyle asked with one of his death glares directed at Broots, who looked like he was wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Ummm... S-sure you can!" Broots said with uneasiness in his voice. He could swear all the Parkers loved to scare and patronize him.

Giving Broots one last glare, he turned to Sydney and said nonchalantly, "I think I have an idea where dear sis may be."

***

Miss Parker was slowly waking up again, hoping it all was just a dream. That she was home in bed nice and safe. She opened her eyes and looked around.

"Definitely not a dream!" she thought to herself. She tried to move but was in too much pain. She looked over at the chair that Jarod had been in earlier, and noticed it was vacated. She simply shrugged and pressed the button for a nurse.

***

Margaret stared out the window into the twilight. She had been pondering her and Mr. Parker's conversation for a while now, wondering if maybe she had wiped their memories too many times. She had come to a conclusion. She hadn't. She would have to keep doing it until she got it right, though the time would have to be soon. She was already forming a plan as she stared at the setting sun.

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 8
by Trish



Margaret stared at the flames that leapt and danced as she stoked the logs in the hearth. Insolent little peon, she fumed, five times was a gross exaggeration of the truth. Jarod's mind had been tampered with twice, the first after Raines took him to the house in the woods to see Catherine. Raines was lucky that he was allowed to still breathe for that stunt. Jarod's second time had been Miss Parker's first, and now this latest attempt. Margaret smiled, enough dwelling in the past. It was finally starting. Everything was in play. The Centre would never be the same. Granted, it was complicated but she was determined to see this plan of her's succeed. Her only concern -- Ethan. The one person that could dismantle the entire project if allowed.

****

Jarod hadn't wanted to go back to the inn, but Dr. MacKenna's suggestion of gathering some of Parker's belongings and bringing them to the hospital seemed logical. As to why he hadn't thought of that could only be attributed to his worry over Parker's memory loss. So, he returned to the room they shared, and was about to rush back out to his car with the overnight bag that he had packed, when Marley had stopped him at the bottom of the stairs.

"She wishes to see ye," her emerald eyes bore into his dark ones. "Grannie says it's important." Nodding, he turned and walked up the stairs, making his way to the hallway to the far room. He had to steady his hand as he turned the doorknob, the overnight bag still clutched in the other hand. Jarod took a seat on the oversized chair that was next to the bed and soon Violet's gnarled hand was resting in his.

"Ye came, aye." She closed her eyes and a small smile curved her lips, then faded completely. "Tis happened?" her voice was low and this was not a question but statement of fact.

"What?" Jarod returned the smile, but briefly, as his memories of Parker asking Violet this same question surfaced before him. Violet had commented on Parker's glow at breakfast about six weeks ago and at her inability to stop staring at Jarod over the table which was answered with blush of color to Parker's cheeks and a witty remark from Violet. Jarod knew that this time the question had been already answered by Marley telling him of Violet's dream.

"The lass be trapped, here," Violet's hand moved slowly and tapped Jarod's temple. "Ye have to tell her the truth." Her voice grim, but held a note of satisfaction at the thought of Jarod's confusion.

"The truth? Violet, I'm not even sure of the truth. She'll demand proof. All I have is the picture, Violet. I can't tell her about us, not now. Hell, she won't believe me, she'd rather shoot me."

"Aye, the picture. It's naught to fret for, she be carrin' the proof, lad. It's under her heart, but ye hav' to be honest, ye canna play your games. Ye canna doubt me dreams. Parker willna kill ye, not yet." Violet tried to smile," I canna keep me eyes open, lad."

"You rest," Jarod replied as he brought Violet's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Rest isna an answer, lad. I'll be wit' my Dougal." Jarod's face clouded with sadness. " I would do anything for ye and Parker. . . this be your fight."

***

Broots swam up out of a flickering yellow haze composed of artifical light, dark, and fragmented memories, feeling completely disoriented.

"Are you all right?" The voice was Sydney's, low and cultured.

"Broots!" The voice, deeper and rougher, wasn't Sydney's at all. Neither was it cultured. It was full of fright and anguish.

"Angelo." Broots found the name at last to match the mental image for which he had been seeking. He sat bolt upright, staring wildly from one face to the other. He was surrounded by the two men, Angelo kneeling beside him, eyes wide and face pale.

"Are you all right, Broots?" The light brown eyes held only respectful concern, the fine dark brows arched over them in inquiry.

"Have you seen Mr. Lyle today, Syd?" Broots glanced nervously around, his eyes falling on the door.

"He's been with Mr. Parker most of the morning, why?"

"Uh huh. I had this really weird dream."

"Now you're dreaming about Mr. Lyle, Broots." Sydney smiled down at the computer tech, curiously.

"Please, Syd. He was wearing a pastel pink suit and cuddling a poodle," Broots shuddered at the memory. Then to Broots' surprise, Sydney laughed.

***

The window that Parker was staring out had a startling view of the Caer, but she didn't really notice the sight. She was lost in her thoughts. She had lashed out at the hospital staff, thrashing her room, and finally verbally abusing Jarod, after he had informed her that four months of her life were missing. And now her heart was pounding along with the constant throbbing from her head. Parker wasn't sure if it was from the blow she suffered from during the accident or the the tiny echo of voices that continued to whisper to her.

Sitting in the silence, Parker looked out into the greyness, her mind trying to dreg up any memory more recent than that damned picture. Frustrated with herself for not being able to remember anything as well as miserable at being stuck in the hospital, Parker gripped the call button again and buzzed.

Hearing the door open, Parker turned her head, ready with a caustic one liner about the medical care of the hospital when it died on her lips. There in the doorway stood Doctor MacKenna, her hands on her hips.

"Ye be a' impatient lass," she said, as she approached the bed.

"I'm not a lass," Parker muttered," I'm a grown woman that wants to get the hell out of here."

"True, ye a petulant babe tossin' a tantrum in need of a spanking," Doctor MacKenna replied as she reached down for Parker's wrist. " This be a hospital, lass and not the Regency. There be patients that need me more than ye."

"Than let me go," Parker yanked her wrist away, before turning her head back toward the window.

"Aye, when Jarod returns. I'll sign the release forms and hand ye o'er to him."

"Hand me over to . . . " Parker snapped, indignation seen in the windorws reflection, when suddenly the voices started to babble about trusting Jarod, incessantly. Unable to fight them, Parker leaned back, letting her head sink into the pillows.

"He be at Penfield's, gatherin' belongings for ye." Parker tried to speak only to be cut off with a hand and an order.

"Rest, lass." Doctor MacKenna said in hushed tones and a smile on her lips.

***

Jarod closed the door behind him, quietly and made his way to the stairs. He had reached the bottom when Marley called to him from the parlor.

"Jarod."

"Grannie's sleeping and Geilie's with her. Have you managed to get a hold of Donal?"

"Aye, Gelie's afeared that he won't make it back afore Grannie. . . " Marley closed her eyes, holding back the tears in them and tossing her head to the side, hoping the moment would help. "Since Grandda's death, Donal and Gelie's been family to us."

"I wish I could do something, Marley," Jarod said softly as he pulled her into his embrace," Grannie's special." He returned the smile at she gave him.

"Aye, that she be. Now ye best get to Parker. Grannie gave ye instructions, dinna she." She escaped his embrace and pushed him toward the door. " Go will ye."

"I'm going," Jarod murmured as he stepped out into the night. " Going to die at Parker's hands."

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 9
by imagine



She felt his eyes upon her, scrutinizing her movements even as he maneuvered the car down the dark, unfamiliar road. Well, it was unfamiliar to her, anyway. Releasing a tired sigh, she closed her eyes and let her head fall against the cloth upholstery. Maybe after a shower and a good nights rest, things would start to make sense.

“Do you have a headache?”

She heard the concern in his voice, and, for some reason, it annoyed her, “Only the one you’re giving me.”

Though she hadn’t faced him, or even opened her eyes, she could feel his confusion and her mind immediately showed her his image. The dark brown eyes, soft and unsure, gazing at her from under furrowed brows; his lips separating slightly as he formed a question, then pursing, as the thought was swallowed. Rubbing her temples again, she forced the vision and the incessant whispering away.

“Parker . .”

“When are you planning on telling me where we’re going?” she interrupted, not wanting to hear him ask how she was feeling again.

“We’re going to the Inn,” he answered softly, glancing at her, “Violet and Marley are anxious to see you. The were worried.”

“I suppose I should know who Violet and Marley are,” she sighed, letting her hands drop to her lap.

“Violet owns the Inn that her granddaughter, Marley, operates,” he answered, “You’re very fond of them both. Maybe seeing them will trigger something in your memory.”

Miss Parker didn’t respond. Her head was throbbing and trying to make sense of what had happened was making it worse. Releasing a breath, she leaned back again and turned her head to the side, staring at the darkening countryside. She was in Scotland, an ocean away from the Centre, and she had no idea how she had gotten there. She only knew she had an overwhelming desire to leave.

***

Margaret lowered herself to the soft, leather chair and retrieved the hard covered book from the desk drawer. Slowly thumbing through the pages, she gazed at the journal as if it were a parting friend. All of her plans, failures and successes, neatly detailed, stared back at her in the manner they had been documented. Unemotionally.

Over the years, she’d created and hidden numerous journals, each filled with insights she shared with no one; now, it was time to begin the next volume. Placing the spent book of script back into the desk, she retrieved one that was identical in every way, with the exception that it housed blank pages.

She knew, of course, that the diaries were the reason the situation had developed as it had; but, writing about her triumphs had become an obsession of its own, one she was not willing to give up. Margaret smiled and shook her head, remembering the rantings of Mr. Parker when he’d found out about the books. The old man had demanded she shred every volume before her son prematurely stumbled upon the information, insisting that Jarod would not be as easy to recondition a third time. Though she would never admit it to her accomplice, knowing that Jarod might find the journals the way his childhood friend had, made the habit harder to break.

The journals Parker found had been relocated to Margaret’s well guarded estate in London, where they would remain until she decided otherwise. The only records left in Inverness were the completed volume she had tucked away, and the one whose spine she had just cracked. She considered the stark white paper for a moment, gathering her thoughts in the most respectable and coherent manner, before lifting the pen.

Neatly inscribing the date in the upper right corner of the page, Margaret began a detailed description of recent events, taking time to include her plans to lure her eldest son to her side. Remembering their brief encounter in Boston, Margaret had no trouble imagining Jarod’s reaction when she allowed him to see her again, and granted herself the pleasure of documenting the fantasy. Shaking her head when she finished, she added a passage that expressed her sorrow that the reunion would never become a viable memory for her son.

‘Someday,’ she wrote, ‘Jarod will understand. He may not like it; but, he will understand why he was never told the truth.’

***

He found her sitting cross-legged on the window seat, her eyes transfixed on something beyond the window pane, and a plaid blanket draped around her shoulders like a shawl. There was a softness in her features that he’d seen before; and, for a split second, Jarod smiled, finding himself wishing he could turn back time. As he realized the absurdity of the thought, though, Jarod’s smile evaporated. Parker didn’t remember the things they’d said and shared in the last four months; so, for her, and consequently, for him, time had not only been turned back, it had been almost completely destroyed.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said, clearing his voice has he moved hesitantly into the room.

Drawn from her thoughts, the brunette glanced at him with expressionless eyes before turning back to the view. Sliding the tray of toast and tea to the small table, he kept his concerned gaze on her. After a moment, she released a deep, impatient sigh, shrugged away the blankets and laid one foot on the floor, “I’m not . .”

Jarod lurched forward, responding immediately as she swayed to the side and reached for support. Wrapping his arms around her, Jarod gently guided the woman to the mattress and knelt in front of her.

Her head lowered, Miss Parker abruptly pulled her hands from his and ran her fingers through her hair, “I’m fine. I just got up too fast.”

The rejection of his touch felt like a slap across the face and Jarod had to take a breath to steady himself, “I’ll get you some water.”

“I said, I’m fine,” she blustered, her eyes following him as he rose, “I don’t want water, I don’t want tea, and I sure as hell don’t want toast. I just want to be left alone.”

“Too bad.”

“Why are you keeping me here?” she dared, her voice betraying her confusion, “What, exactly, is your game, this time, Jarod?”

“My game?”

Pushing him away, she stood, keeping her eyes locked on his, “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? It must have been pretty damned important if you’re willing to risk the wrath of both myself and my father for drugging and kidnapping me. So spill it.”

“What?” he stepped back, startled by her outburst, “You think I kidnapped you?”

“What other possible explanation could there be?” she dared, “I’m half a world away from my life, with no recollection of how I got here. You won’t tell me where my gun or passport are, our accomodations are quaint enough to not include a telephone, and you’ve been hovering over me like you think I’m going to break. What’s wrong? Did you give me something that didn’t work the way you expected? Did you . .”

He listened, his eyes widening with disbelief as she continued her tirade. Watching her movements as she crossed the room, bombarding him with accusations and innuendoes, Jarod couldn’t find the words to defend himself until she hurled a framed photo at him.

“.. and why the hell did you make this?” she spat.

“Make it? Parker, that photo was taken right here, less than two months ago,” he growled, retrieving the snapshot of the two of them from the floor and placing it on the bed stand, “It was taken at Violet’s birthday celebration. If you don’t believe me, ask Marley; she’s the photographer.”

“Oh, that’s right. Somewhere in this Inn, there are two women I’m supposed to be ‘fond’ of,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from every word, “So, where are they, Jarod? Where are the women who were so worried about me? Why haven’t . .?”

“Violet is dying,” he interrupted softly, “She may not make it through the night, and her family is holding vigil.”

The color drained from her face in the time it took him to finish the sentence. Hesitant about offering her comfort, Jarod waited at the far side of the room as Parker lowered herself into the overstuffed recliner beside the door. She held her head, her eyes closed and her body tense. It was a reaction he was familiar with.

“They’re telling you something, aren’t they?” he whispered, moving around the bed, “The voices.”

Not looking up, she nodded, “I can’t make it out. It’s too faint.”

Though he wasn’t sure he believed her, Jarod nodded sympathetically and took another step. She raised her eyes to him, stopping him in his tracks; but, before either could say a word, there was a light rap at the door. Pushing herself to her feet, she moved into the bathroom as Jarod greeted the visitor.

“Marley,” he smiled weakly, stepping back to allow her admittance to the room, “How’s Violet?”

The woman shook her head slightly, glancing at the closed bathroom door, “She’s fading, Jarod.”

Slipping his arms around the petite form, the Pretender offered his support without a word. He felt the younger woman melt against him for a moment, then push away.

Taking a breath, she looked at him, “Grannie is askin’ fer Parker.”

“I don’t know . .”

“Jarod, ye know better than to deny Grannie,” she smiled.

“I just ...”

“So, you’ve decided to make all my decisions?” Parker dared.

Moving from the bathroom, her hair pulled back and her face still damp from the water she’d splashed on it, Parker stopped beside Marley without a trace of recognition in her eyes. Alternating her gaze between the two, the brunette waited for one of them to speak. When neither said a word, she shook her head and reached for the door.

“Well?” she insisted, “Are you going to show me where your grandmother is, or do I have to find her myself?”

Shooting an amused look at Jarod, Marley nodded and followed the brunette, stopping at the door but watching the woman descend the staircase. Turning back to face the man, she offered him a kind grin, “Donal is outside; if ye feel ye need to talk.”

“Actually,” he returned her grin and glanced at his watch, “there’s someone in the States that I haven’t spoken to in a long time. He might be able to help me help Parker.”

She nodded and her eyes dropped to the bed stand, then up at him as she took a step back into the room, “Where’s yer phone?”

“I put it in the office,” he said, “In the meantime, I’ll use the one in town.”

“Now, why would ye do that?” she challenged.

“Until Parker is better, I think it’s best to keep her away from the phones. Anyone she might call could confuse her more,” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to explain. The threat that Parker would give him up to the Centre, in her condition, had been at the forefront of his mind since he realized her state. Neither he nor Parker had explained their past to Marley or Violet; and the idea of doing so, now, did not sit well with him. “Trust me.”

Marley’s head tilted to one side, her grin to another. Then, shaking her head, she backed into the hall, pulling the door closed. At the last minute, she asked, “Are all Americans like ye?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jest that ye be a strange lot,” she sighed, “Be careful that ye don’t complicate things so much that they become unrecognizable,” she said, closing the door.

***

Ethan sat up in the bed, the palms of his hands pressing against his eyes. The words were louder, more insistant than they had been before; and, no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to isolate her voice. Jarod had told him to concentrate on what she told him, and to trust her; but, lately, it was becoming exceedingly more difficult.

“Where are you?” he whispered, sinking against the pillows and curling into a fetal position.

Disclaimer is in part 1 and a Thank you to the two ladies that gave this a read through . . . .feedback is appreciated. . . Please archive with other parts. . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 10
by Michele



Donal paced, hands clasped behind his back. He felt terribly tired. Rubbing a hand over his face, as he stopped in front of the small table outside the parlor; the one that held the pictures of those that Violet loved. He examined all of the smiling faces of the people that were affected by knowing Voilet. Too many, he thought.

His hand sought out the silver-gilt frame that housed a picture of Jarod and Miss Parker and his five year old grandson, Ian, taken just under two months ago at Violet's 75th birthday. Their eyes said it all, and now the lass' eyes were devoid of that look, she had seen to that. The mistress of the Caer. He set the picture back in its spot on the table. He then picked up the decanter and crystal tumbler that sat next to the pictures and brought the level of spirits up to the halfway point. Taking a gulp, he savored the burning sensation as it slid down his throat.

"Grannie always said a dram of whiskey is good for what ails you, but if Geile catches you," Jarod said, watching Donal shoot him a sudden, sharp look, then smiled, a little wryly.

"Aye. I'd offer ye a drink but . . ." Donal said, before swallowing the remaining whiskey then set the glass on the table. " Violet?"

"Marley came for Parker, seems that Grannie was asking to see her," Jarod said softly, turning his head toward the stairs, then followed Donal into the parlor.

"The lass dinna remember the accident?" Donal turned his head toward the fire in the hearth, his eyes closing tightly as he listened to Jarod's response. Everything inside of him screamed to face the young man that was standing there and tell him the truth. That the owner of the Caer was threatening his young grandson, Ian. That he really didn't want to see the lass hurt in anyway, but Ian was their only connection to his son, Niall, gone these last three years. Donal sighed and his shoulders sagged as horrible images invaded his mind. Images of his grandson suffering at the hands of Margaret. After experiencing first hand her ruthlessness, Donal realized just what she was capable of doing, so he resigned himself to trying to protect Ian and his wife, Geilie.

"Donal?"

The older man jumped slightly when he felt the pressure of a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He knew if he turned around, it would be to see Jarod standing there behind him, with that damned look of concern written on his features.

"I figur'd that Grannie out live all of Inverness, lad." Donal took a seat in the overstuffed chair that was located in front of the fireplace, extending his hand for Jarod to do the same.

"I would love to stay, Donal, but Marley asked if I'd go and escort Father MacMurty back."

"Then the end be close, aye. If ye be fetching Father."

Jarod nodded and then retreated out the front door and headed into the village on foot. He shoved his hand into his coat pocket, his fingers encountering a lump of cold metal. Parker's keys, the constable had given them to him at the hospital. He had hidden her passport and gun at the office, but had forgotten all about the keys. After he completed the tasks at hand, he would put these with Parker's things, as well. His first stop was MacLeod's to place a call to Sydney; the second would be to fulfill Marley's request of escorting Father MacMurty to Violet's bedside. His thoughts traveled back to the inn and a certain bedroom on the second floor and the meeting that would be taking place between Parker and Violet.

****

Parker stood in front of the bedroom door, her hand hovering above the knob, a myriad of emotions running through her body.

"Go ahead," urged the person next to her, giving Parker a little push, "she be awaitin'."

Parker slipped into the bedroom, the door closing silently behind her. Her eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light, and she immediately turned her gaze upon the small, frail figure that was being supported by numerous pillows in the enormous oak bed.

The small, bony shoulders drooped, and dark smudges showed beneath the woman's eyes. Parker ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, as she tried to recall meeting this woman. Her fingers jammed against the bruised area of her temple.

"Violet?" Parker's blue eyes were clouded with apprehension, as she settled into the chair next to the bed.

"Lass," the voice was weak, but her eyes rested unwaveringly on Parker's. "I needna ask, it be written on ye face. Ye dinna remember me."

She then reached out and placed one hand gently over the purple knot on Parker's temple. There was a brief flicker in Parker's face, and Violet thought that Parker was about to say something, instead she leaned into Violet's touch, her eyes closing. A voice, faintly whispering, nonsensically, echoed in her head, along with the sound of her heartbeat.

Opening her eyes, Parker shook herself and pulled away, her expression turning into a frown.

"No!" Parker muttered, the frown returning quickly," I'm still trying to figure everything out. . . " Parker stood up from the chair, her knees a trifle wobbly, that she sank back down and brought her hands up to rub at her temple.

"Ye need to listen, ye canna block it out."

***

Jarod reached the bridge over the river Ness and headed into the village, the boards echoed hollowly underfoot as he trudged toward Macleod's pub. He shook his head as he thought about the past three weeks. He told Parker only part of the truth, skimming over their fledging relationship, even though Voilet had urged him not to do so. The lights of the pub loomed in front of him, and Jarod reached for the brass doorknob and pushed. The twinkling of the brass bell, alerted the patrons to a newcomer. The men of the town turned, most grinned and raised their tankards to him but his eyes sought out only one person in the dark and smoky room.

"Connor," he called out as he weaved his way toward the back of the room.

"Jarod," the older man, set his towel down upon the bar and motioned for Jarod to follow him into the small room at the back of the pub. " How be the lass?"

"I'm afraid that your trip to Tahiti will have to be postponed for a while, Connor," Jarod smiled, but worry still hovered in the back of his mind.

"Ye shouldna be here, ye should be with your lass, Jarod."

"She's with Violet. I need to use your telephone, Connor, and I didn't want to do it in front of Parker. I didn't want to upset her."

"Aye! Ye be a good man, lad. Ye know it be in back, but it'll cost ye, dearly too."

"It always does, Connor, it always does," Jarod smiled and then made his way to the small office in the back of the pub. Jarod settled himself into the wooden chair and reached for the receiver. He dialed as quickly as possible on the old rotary and then placed the receiver to his ear, waiting.

"This is Sydney!" The familiar response caused Jarod to exhaled sharply and play with Parker's keys.

"Sydney, is it possible that guilt could overwhelm a person. So much so that they forget all the goodness that's occurred in their life."

"What's happened, Jarod?" Sydney asked, concern ringing in his voice.

***

Parker made her way up the stairs, holding on to the railing, fearing that her knees would give out on her before she reached her room. She felt weak and nauseated, anxiously aware of the bitter tea she'd drank earlier. Upon reaching the bedroom, Parker immediately lowered her body into the overstuffed chair located by the door, her hands coming to rest on her abdomen. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the weariness. She dreamed of long sequences of images, flashes and fragments, restless flickers in the dark and quiet whispers.

***

Margaret closed the journal, and laid the pen across the top, her hand reaching for the shrilling object located next to her left elbow.

"Yes?"

"Madam!" The voice belonged to her trustworthy butler in Penwith, England.

"This better be important, Nigel," Margaret said, coolly.

"I believe that it is, Madam. The journals arrived. . . "

"Good. You made sure that they are in order," Margaret replied dryly.

"That's the problem, Madam," Nigel hesitated, then resumed quickly," The key to the safety deposit box is missing, so I thought that perhaps you decided to keep it with you."

Margaret stared down at the journal, and felt herself go cold. She had made an error. The enormity of this knowledge weighed upon her like a giant boulder. She had underestimated Miss Parker. Now such a mistake could cost her everything, and how ignominious would that be. She had made a dangerous assumption and now she had to try and rectify it.

"Madam?"

" It's all right, Nigel. I know where the key is."

"Very good, madam. I'll lock the journals in the safe as instructed."

"Is there anything else that I need to know, Nigel?" Margaret shook her head and squared her shoulders.

"Inquiries have been made about Lachlan Abbott," Nigel said.

"The photographer!" Margaret asked, anger creeping into her voice," Who?"

"The inquiry came from Downing Street, Madam." Nigel heard the sharp hiss of breath from the other end of the phone line.

"Thank you, Nigel. I'll handle it." Margaret slammed the receiver of the phone down upon the desk, her ire fueled by rage caused by careless mistakes.

There was no two ways about it-Catherine's key had to be located, and quickly. She'd have Fergus sweep the room in which the journals were originally located, perhaps Miss Parker hid it, hoping to return for it later. Not that that was possible, not now.

Disclaimer in part one. . . .
NOTE: Annsachd means Beloved in Gaelic Scotch. . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 11
by Trisha & Lizzy aka chopsticks




Parker had not slept well since the accident. As she reclined in the overstuffed armchair, she tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, visions filled her head. Dreams of touching someone. Everywhere. Mouths, tongues, hands touching, stroking, tasting. The whispering returned, soft soothing murmurs calming her. They had a lullaby’s beat, almost hypnotic. Then the dreams took on darker, harsh tones with grim images. Someone in danger. Someone in pain. Someone filled with great hatred. Her mother's voice soon filled her head, repeating softly, "safety in remembering".

Parker woke, covered in sweat, her satin blouse clinging to her body, and despite the comfortable temperature of the bedroom, she felt as if she were suffocating. She tried not to let the whole dream sequence affect her, but she had been left shaken and nauseated by the intensity of the empathic burst. Parker bolted out of the chair and headed for the bathroom, the urge to retch strong.

Once in the bathroom, she collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet and everything she had eaten in the past two days came up. Reaching for the towel above her head, she gingerly wiped her mouth and then stood up, flushing the contents away. Going over to the mirror, Parker splashed her face with some cold water, still trying to fight down the intense feeling of nausea. Looking at herself, she did not see the same woman she was used to seeing. Who she saw was someone who looked irreparably older, with lines that had never been there before. She didn't recognize herself anymore, let alone understand.

"What's happening to me?" she wondered aloud, tears forming in her ice blue eyes.

Stripping off the sweat-soaked clothes, Parker wrapped herself in the soft black velour robe that was hanging on the bathroom door and then she turned toward the shower and adjusted the knobs. Quickly removing the robe and stepping into the shower, she let the warm water cascade down her body, and tried to reconcile her dreams with something from the past four months.

*****
Jarod was silent for a moment, then he quietly whispered, into the receiver, "There's been an accident, Syd." He surveyed the room. There were two connecting doors, one to the kitchen, the other to the pub's back room. Rain flayed the lone window, sending jagged rivulets coursing down the glass.

"Jarod? Accident? What kind of accident?" Sydney asked, his inflection rising with fear upon hearing each stifled sob that came over the other end of the phone.

"I-it's Miss Parker," Jarod choked out as he finally submitted to the tears that had been threatening to fall since he had first heard Sydney's voice. He tightened his fingers around the keys causing them to bite into his palm.

"Jarod? What happened to her?" Sydney asked quietly, emotions taking over his own voice.

He listened to the crying and broken man on the other side, fearing the worst. He patiently waited on the outside, while inside he was screaming for Jarod to hurry up and tell him what had happened. One thought ran through his head, 'She's dead. My God, she's dead.'

Little did he know that his thoughts weren't all that far away from the truth.

*****

Margaret had to take action, now. She had to locate that key. Damn Catherine, she thought. Catherine had known that if she had left everything in one location regarding the Centre that eventually Margaret would get a hold of it. So, she scattered bits and pieces of her findings throughout the world. Jarod had managed to find some of them, ones that she hadn't even known existed but especially the ones that Margaret wanted him to find.

Like the medical records of Mr. Parker's physical abuse of Catherine. Margaret shuddered at the thought. Mr. Parker had been punished for that, she had seen to it by deliberating usurping Mr. Parker's plans to control Ethan. She had sent Raines to Catherine with proof outlining the deception that Mr. Parker had perpetrated. Mirage was her creation, no one else would take credit for him. She had always been intrigued with Catherine's gift, her ability to sense danger. She allowed herself to remember late night gab-sessions that she had had with Catherine over tea and scones at the country estate, right here in Scotland. She had gathered valuable information in regards to this inner sense, and she methodically formulated her plan regarding Mirage's conception. Her thoughts reverted back to the key that would open another of Catherine's little time bombs. She had never been able to locate which bank that key belonged too. She also had to find out who had requested information about Lachlan Abbot. The truth about his untimely demise did not bode well for her or the Centre.

*****

Margaret reached for the phone and dialed.

"Fergus?" she snapped when the receiver on the other end was answered.

"Missus," the older man replied, knowing that no good was about to come from this conversation.

"I need you to sweep the area where we found Miss Parker. It seems that I may have underestimated her after all," Margaret said, as she got out of her chair and walked toward the window that looked down on the city of Inverness.

"I be lookin for somthin?" Fergus asked, waiting for his orders.

"A little silver key. The kind a bank would issue for a safety deposit box. I want that room turned inside out, is that understood? And if it's not there, inform Donal of the problem and have him search Miss Parker's room at the inn."

"Are ye daft, woman, Violet Penfield be crossin o'er and ye want Donal . . . ?" Fergus snapped, and immediately regretted making the impromptu statement when he heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end.

"Daft, Fergus, me?" Margaret said, an evil laugh escaping, "You could be dead." And with that the call terminated.

"Aye, Missus." Fergus muttered, knowing that no one heard him. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his night, searching the dark, dank dungeon of the Caer, not with the banshee beginning her pitiful wail. Death hung in the air this night in Inverness. That of longtime inhabitant--Violet Penfield. He would stop by the inn on the way to the Caer, his excuse--to check on Violet's condition and it would allow him the opportunity to fill Donal in regarding Margaret's instructions about searching the lass' room.

******

Ethan ran his hand through his dark hair, as he uncurled himself from his position on the bed.

"Mom?" he asked, hoping for an answer. He rubbed his cheeks and headed for the small area that he used as a kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, he reached for a can of soda when suddenly he heard what he so desperately needed to hear.

"Ethan," his mother's voice crooned, softly.

"Mom, I hear you, but there's someone else trying to reach me. Is it my sister?"

"No dear, but someone equally important to her, she just doesn't know it yet."

"She found the truth, didn't she, Mom?" Ethan cried out, desperate to piece together the knowledge his mother had just given him," The voice makes no sense, Mom, he's babbling."

"I need to be with your sister. You need to concentrate on the babbling, Ethan. You'll will understand in time."

"Mom, don't go. Tell me who is he?" Ethan cried out, desperate to keep his mother's voice inside him.

"Cameron," was the garbled reply. Ethan placed the soda back in the refrigerator and grabbed the duffel bag located on the table and threw his belongings inside, then headed out the door. If there was one thing that his brother, Jarod, had taught him, was that in order to stay ahead of the
Centre, you had to move. He pondered what his mother had just imparted to him. Asking himself questions that he didn't have the answers too. Why would she need to be with Parker? Unless. . . .his sister had been plunged into darkness. He had finally realized that it was his connection to Parker that was missing. . . .as though it had been short circuited, somehow.

Instead he had this non-stop reply echoing back at him.

"Who are you? What do you want of me?"

"Cameron! Cameron!"

"I'm coming," he replied.

"Cameron! Cameron!" continued to reverberate in his head. He hoped that by going to help his half brother and half sister that all his questions would be answered.

********

Jarod eventually calmed himself from the fear that had gripped him and told Sydney what had happened. He realized that Sydney must have suspected the worst when he heard the collective sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. It didn't make sense to either of them. Jarod had described the sim he had run regarding the crash. It wasn't severe enough to cause memory loss and other than the bruise to the temple, she suffered no major injuries. So how was it that her memories of the past four months were gone?

"Can you explain it to me, Sydney?"

"I can't, Jarod. From what you tell me, it's as though her memories have been erased." Sydney's voice broke through his befuddled mind.

"That's impossible, Syd. No one knows that we're here. Mr. Broots is to good to make mistakes. So, who could have possible erased Miss Parker's memories." Jarod stared down at the key ring, making a mental note regarding Miss Parker's keys. He recognized all of them except a small silver one with well-worn letters. The only two he could make out were an S and E.

"Jarod? Jarod, are you still there?" Sydney asked.

"Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Broots is enjoying the task that you and Miss Parker assigned him. He seems to be sending Lyle on many different goose chases." Syndey responded," But Jarod what do you intend to do about Miss Parker?"

"I'm not sure, Syd. I'd like to try and hypnotize her but . . ." his voice trailed off as the wind outside started to shriek and causing the lone window to rattle, " Thank you for your help, but I have a rather important meeting to make. I'll keep in touch about Miss Parker's state of mind. Tell Broots to keep up the excellent work and and could you have him run a check in the Centre's databases for any information on a Lachlan Abbott."

"Who's . . . ?" Sydney stared at the reciever, a small smile turning the corner of his lips, his question answered.

*********

Parker emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the robe, it's musky male scent making her heady. Making her way to the armoire, she pulled open the top drawer, looking for her pajamas. Instead, sitting on top of the neatly folded shirts and sweaters, was a manilla folder. Picking it up, Parker noticed the notation written in Jarod's handwriting. PHOTOGRAPH.

"What are you trying to hide from me, Jarod?" she muttered, placing the folder on the top of the armoire, she quickly opened the next drawer and was relieved to discover her pajamas. She quickly pulled the gray silk on, its softness reminding her of soft caresses similar to those of her dream. Shaking herself from her reverie, Parker turned her attention toward to file. Slowly and with trembling hands, she and the folder moved to the bed.

*********

Twilight was coming on and the weather had become rainy and windy, so Jarod had to borrow an umbrella from Connor and made his way down the street toward the small cottage located next to St. Andrew's Catherdral. Knocking quickly, the door opened and the aroma of freshly baked bread assailed Jarod's nostrils, setting his stomach to rumble.

"Father MacMurty," he said with little enthusiasm," Violet sent me for you."

That was all he needed to say and the two of them were in the Reverend's car heading back over the bridge toward Penfield's.

"The banshee be a'comen," Father MacMurty replied as the car shook from the howling wind.

**************

As the car pulled into the small driveway, Jarod watched as a old truck passed him in the driveway. The driver looking vaguely familiar to him but with the rain coming down it was hard to tell. He eased the car in a spot next to his SUV and he and Father MacMurty made a mad dash for shelter inside the inn. Once inside, Jarod saw Donal pacing in the hallway and Marley coming down the stairs.

"Father," her voice filled with melancholy, her step slow as she reached the bottom stair and took the Reverend's coat and hung it on the cast iron coatrack.

"Marley," Father MacMurty said as he hugged the petite woman.

"Aye, Father. Get on wi' ye; Grannie's waiting." Father MacMurty nodded, his lips drawn tightly, his grey eyes sad and weary, reminding Jarod of the look he saw in Sydney's eyes after Jacob had died.

The wind continued to keen sharp and loud outside as the rain continued to fall. Jarod saw Marley shudder and bring her hands across her chest as though fighting off the inevitable.

"Banshee awailin'," she muttered, her lids narrowing, before she turned toward the pacing man, "Donal?".

"Uhh," Donal stopped his pacing and stared at the young woman, a dazed expression on his face.

"Ye wera talking to someone."

"Aye! Neighborly concern for Grannie and ye as well," Donal replied and resumed his pacing.

"Ye can come help me wi' something, Donal. Ye be wearing out the floor. Jarod git wi' ye upstairs too, Parker dinna look to well, earlier."

Without so much as a second thought, Jarod bounded up the stairs two at a time, only coming to an abrupt halt outside the bedroom door, a room that they had been sharing together until the accident. He pushed opened the door slowly, noticing that the only light came from the bathroom. After allowing his eyes to adjust, they immediately fell upon the sleeping form of Parker. Slowly, he made his way to the edge of the bed, pulling the homemade quilt up around her, as well as brushing strands of hair off her face. Upon straightening up, it was then that he noticed the manilla folder sitting on the nightstand. To exhausted to remove his jacket, he collapsed in the chair that had previously been occupied by Miss Parker, and realized that he would have some explaining to do regarding the file and the information he discovered about the photograph and it's photographer. But for know he sat there in the dark, watching Parker sleep. Running a hand through his damp locks, he let his mind wander back to not so long ago nights, when after making love, sleep would eluded him so he took comfort in watching her sleep peacefully from the shadows.

Her dreams of warm kisses and feathery touches had resumed the moment she closed her eyes. She allowed herself to get lost in the dream. And when she had thought that she could finally see who it that created these intense feelings in her, a misty fog swirled around as she tried to pull into focus the face. The face would vanish, only to be replaced by an urgent childlike plea for her to remember, but no matter where she turned, the fog got denser and the plea became more and more urgent. Then when she thought that she had finally found the source, darkness would engulf her and a harsh laugh echoed around in the darkness. Her crying out alerted Jarod to her anguish and he was beside her in a flash.

"Shhh, Annsachd," he whispered, using the scottish endearment that meant so much to both of them, as he wrapped her in his tight embrace," You're safe. Talk to me, Annsachd."

Dazed and groggy, she nestled her head against his chest, her eyes tightly closed.

"Four months of my life, gone. I can't remember anything, but when I sleep, feelings of being alive invade my mind, tantalizing feelings of being loved and safe. And when I try to find the source or get close to the memories; they are drowned out by an intense feeling of fear and horror, not only for me but for someone else," Parker murmured.

"Oh, Parker, you're safe, believe me," he whispered, his hand gently caressing her cheek, his lips brushing against her head," As well as. . . . . loved."

That did it, her eyes flew open, panic reflecting in them, once the voice finally registered with her. Pulling out of his embrace, she scrambled off the bed and stood there shaking, enraged and furious, not noticing his hurt expression.

"Loved, really. By whom? You?" she snapped, her blue eyes rolling at the thought, "What the hell kind of game are you playing with me, Jarod? Huh?"

"This isn't a game, this is a search for the truth. Damn it, Parker, I thought that we were beyond this . . ." Jarod said, anger filling his voice. He approached her, talking as he did," I'm not playing games with you. Not since. . ."

"Since what. . .what did you think we were beyond?" she demanded," Answer me that, Jarod! Or can't you think of a good enough lie to feed me!"

"Lies! That's the Centre's specialty not mine. I don't lie. Not to you. You want a good reason. Fine, how's this for a good enough reason!" Jarod reached out, his hands cupping her face, his lips capturing hers. The kiss lasted but a moment and when he broke it, he looked into her blue eyes, hoping for. . . .it was out of the corner of his eye that he caught the movement of her hand on the upswing. It was the knock on the door that interrupted the slap midair.

"Jarod. Miss Parker," the voice was Marley's. Jarod stroded to the door, without glancing back at her, therefore missing her running her fingers across her lips.

"It be time. She's askin for ye, both."

The walk to Grannie's bedroom seemed to take forever, even though it was only a matter of minutes. Marley opened the door and allowed Jarod and Miss Parker to enter, she following behind.

"Lass," Grannie's voice was weak, her attempt to motion for Parker feeble. It was Marley, who pushed her toward the bed. " Closer, this be for ye alone."

Parker leaned in close to Grannie's lips, unsure why. Grannie's voice was faint, almost inaudible, that Parker wasn't even sure that she heard the woman clearly.

"The wee voice ye hear when still, he be tellin' ye what ye need to know, he's but a whisper but ye must listen. Ye need to trust that wee voice, lass," Parker backed away, the color draining from her face. Jarod quickly came to stand behind Parker, concerned that she was about to faint on the spot.

"Donal? Geilie, where be Donal?" Violet murmured as her eyes closed.

Disclaimer in part one. . . .




The Truth Hurts
Part 12
Shannon



Fergus made his way carefully along the darkened corridors of the Caer. He shivered as the cold air invaded his bones, he wanted more than anything to be home, instead of rummaging around in the storage rooms looking for a key. The last room loomed ahead, at the end of the cold, dank, and musty tunnel. It was in this very room that he and Margaret had found the lass. He remembered that morning as if it had been only yesterday as he opened the wooden door, almost expecting to see her there sitting on the cold concrete floor, with notebooks, files and papers spread in a semi-circle about her, tears staining her cheeks but it was her eyes that he remembered the most. Never in his fifty odd years had he seen eyes that blazed with so much hatred when she looked up to find Margaret standing behind him in this very doorway.

Fergus let the memory pass and began to search about the room, rifling through boxes, overturning furniture, and checking the cracks and crevices for that damn key.

***

Donal realized that he had little time to search the room used by Jarod and Miss Parker before someone noticed that he was missing from the death bed vigil for Violet. He hated this more than anything but there was no getting out of it, not if he wanted to keep his grandson safe. The light by the bed was on and he quickly scanned the table, finding nothing but a glass of water. The armoire held only a silver hairbrush and matching mirror along with a woman's wristwatch. Making his way to the closet, he opened the sliding door and found the black leather jacket that the lass was so fond of wearing. Slipping his hand into the pockets, hoping to find that which his blackmailer wanted. Nothing. No key, not even a set of keys. He'd have to do a more intense search of the room in the morning when he'd have more time.

For now, Margaret would have to accept the fact that Violet's death hampered his mission. Her threats be damned, he thought, he was about to lose his dearest friend and nothing was going to prevent him from being with her, or even there for Marley and his wife, Geilie. He stood there for a moment on the bottom stair, lost in his thoughts when the door to the bedroom opened.

"There ye be, Donal. Violet be askin for ye," Marley said, softly as she took hold of his hand in hers," Tis hard on us all, ye dinna need to grieve alone."

"Ye know me too well, lass," Donal replied, as he patted the small hand with his free one. " I canna say good-bye and . . ."

"If it's any comfort to ye, ye isna alone."

"Nay, I canna say it's much comfort to me, but thank ye for tellin' me."

***

Margaret frowned and played with a tendril of her hair where it had escaped the braid that hung down her back. Her eyebrows lowered into a frown like gathering stormclouds. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it she hoped to dispel this anxious feeling. Since finding Catherine's daughter at the Caer, things had not gone as she had planned.

Her brief appearance to her son, should have sent him to the Caer searching for answers but his bond to Miss Parker was proving stronger. Much stronger. Margaret knew that her son cared for Catherine's daughter, after all that was one of the goals that she had strived for all these years, but what worried her was how that bond had seemed to cement itself so quickly over these past four months. The longer he stayed with Miss Parker, he would eventually realize that her memories had been lost not because of the accident, but by outside forces. Once he had that information, she knew that Jarod would go to whatever lengths necessay to find out who was reponsible for this manipulation.

The imminent death of Violet Penfield also hindered her plans for her son. Jarod and his sense of loyalty. Thankfully, she didn't have to contend with Ethan. His skills as a pretender and his inner sense made him a threat, any physical contact between him and his sister would prove catastrophic for her and the Centre. He had turned out to be a liability instead of the asset she had originally envisioned when she developed the Mirage project. She thanked the devil that Raines had gotten to Edna before Miss Parker had and was equally thankful that she refused to tell Jarod what she knew.

***

An hour later, Fergus knew that his search had proven futile and it was time to face her. Grimacing at the thought, he headed up the stairs and into the residental part of the Caer, he hoped that Donal's search of the lass's room would prove more fruitful. Knocking on the ornately craved door, he inhaled sharply gathering the strength to tell his employer that he hadn't
located the key.

***

Jarod sat and stared at his laptop, knowing that Broots had gotten his latest email and computer program to implant into the Centre's mainframe so as to send Lyle and Mr. Cox on a search of his father and the boy.

His concentration wasn't on keeping the Centre at bay for his thoughts continually returned to the sleeping figure on the bed in the other room. Although she had no recollection of ever meeting Violet prior to this night, her death seemed to hit Parker hard, calling forth memories of her mother's and that of Thomas Gates' death. She had nearly passed out in Violet's bedroom, her face drained of its color, that Jarod was ready to take her back to the hospital. She had vetoed that idea, quickly by telling him that it was the situation and the fact that she had not eaten since early afternoon.

***

Turning his thoughts to their relationship, he pondered the possibility that he had been wrong to keep it a secret from her, after all Violet had encouraged him to be truthful with her. Their relationship was considerably more complicated than any relationship-friend or otherwise, he had ever experienced. It wasn't that Parker wasn't his friend. There was just so much more. She had had some unresolved feelings of ambivalence toward him regarding the death of Thomas, yet when she had absolved him of any responsibility in his death, Jarod knew then that their relationship had changed. And for the better. He knew how he felt about her. Here. Today. Violet had been right, he shouldn't tippytoe around it. Never mind the emotional baggage related to their past- the truth was, he felt complete when with her.

***

Parker lay sleepless in the bed, she felt trapped. Violet's passing had brought forth unwanted memories of the loss of her mother and Thomas and the grief that accompanied those memories. Then there was the argument that she had had with Jarod. An argument that she provoked, hoping to push him away, she accused him of lying. And everything after that went wrong, instead of walking away, he kissed her. Now those faceless dreams of feathery kisses and warm touchs were replaced with Jarod. Pushing those thoughts aside, she twisted over to her side and closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, but ten minutes later she was twisting back the other way, eyes wide open again.

She sighed and sat up. What she needed was some fresh air. Quietly, so as not to alert Jarod, who was busy in the small room off the bedroom, she turned the quilt back and fumbled in the dark for the bathrobe that rested on the chair by the bed. Reaching the balcony door, she slide it open, feeling the cold air hit her. The rain and wind had died shortly after Violet had. The clouds now scudded across the night sky, leaving enough moonlight to break through for her to see the Caer. Leaning her hands on the ironwrought handrail, she stared intently at the colossal rock monstrosity. As far back as she could remember, castles and such had always intrigued her as a child, and yet something about this one made her feel threatened. The fear of what lurked around the corners or was hidden in the dark shadows caused the infantile chattering inside her head to increase.

"Parker?" his voice was soft and low. She didn't need to turn around to see his face, along with the concern and worry that would be written there. "Come inside, where it's warm." She glanced at him.

"It's full of hatred and evil," she murmured turning back.

"What is, Parker?" Jarod looked out at the scene in front of him," The Caer? Do you remember going there before the accident?"

"I think so. . .oh, hell, I don't know." She brought a hand up to her forehead, her eyes closing." He doesn't always make sense."

"The voices?" he asked.

"Voice, and he's been babbling constantly, ever since the accident. Violet told me to listen to him. To trust him. "

"Ethan, perhaps. You can trust him."

"No, it's not Ethan," she said with a shake, and she seemed relieved to be sharing the burden at last.

"Then who?"

"I wish I knew," she frowned as the lightheadedness of earlier returned, her body swaying slightly, that Jarod had his arm around her waist to steady her against him.

"You need to rest. By the way, you still haven't eaten, have you, Parker?" Jarod asked as he tightened his grip around her waist and his calm confident stride left no doubt that he knew exactly where they were headed. "You're stuck with me, so don't even try and pick a fight, got it."

***

Broots went pale, when he saw Mr. Lyle along with Mr. Cox enter the tech room, his fingers flying across the keyboard panel. Swallowing hard, he tried to moisten a mouth that had suddenly gone dry and pasty.

"Mr. Lyle. Mr. Cox. Can I help you?"

Mr. Cox's brows furrowed slightly.

"Perhaps some news about the return of our missing pretender?" Cox said, as Broots stared at him for a disbelieving moment.

"Yes, sir," with a weak nod and his fingers skipped across his keyboard. Broots peered at the monitor's screen, please at what he saw. "Seems that Major Charles, the boy, and Jarod were spotted . . . ."

"Where?" Lyle demanded, his brow twitching.

"Cuernavaca," Broots replied as he turned the monitor around for the two men to view the message on the screen.

"That sounds familiar to me, Mr. Broots?" Mr. Cox said, leaning over the monitor.

"Jarod was there a few years ago, perhaps you read it in reports that Miss Parker and I have submitted." The two men turned to find Sydney standing behind them in the doorway. He waited a few moments for a reply. When none came, he continued. " Jarod must have thought that his father and the boy would be safe there from Centre sweepers."

"Perhaps," Mr. Cox murmured as he glanced at the computer techie, who returned the stare even though his knees were knocking together under the desk. Lyle pulled his cell phone from inside his suitcoat pocket and with a quick flip it was opened. His finger stabbed a single number on the green illuminated number pad before placing the receiver to his ear.

"Have the jet ready for Cuernavaca, immediately," snapping the phone shut, he looked at Cox," You coming?"

Cox looked at Lyle, his jaw tightening at the suggestion, his expression made it clear that he'd rather not, but he could not think of an alternative plan and Mr. Parker had made it clear that he stay with Lyle. Cox hated the fact that he was being used as a glorified babysitter but Lyle's choices for allies lately had nearly ended with Mr. Parker's death. What was it Mr. Parker had called him, the responsible one.

"Of course I'm coming." The two men scuttled out of the room, leaving the other two alone.

"God, Syd that was too close," Broots said as he stood up from his chair, wiping the faint line of sweat from his forehead.

"We have a bigger problem than sending Lyle and Mr. Cox on unproductive side trips, Broots," Sydney whispered.

"We do?" Broots quiered.

"Yes, we do. Miss Parker was in an accident."

"Is she alright?"

"Physically, yes . . . ."

"I hear a but coming at the end of that sentence, don't I?"

"Amnesia, the last four months, blank," Sydney replied, nodding.

"You're not serious. No, no, this isn't happening," Broots started to pace, then stopped and looked again at Sydney," This is happening, isn't it?"

"Yes and even though there is nothing that we can do from here about it, we had best be prepared for the worst case scenrio. In the meantime, someone made a request of your computer skills in searching the Centre's mainframe."

"What am I searching for?"

"Not what, who. Someone by the name of Lachlan Abbott."

***

When the seatbeat sign blinked out overhead, Ethan pulled the duffel bag out from underneath the seat in front of him and rummaged through it, and finally located the item he was seeking. An album full of photographs. He had gone back to his foster-parent's home, the voices in is head telling to go and yet he was unsure of what he would find. It was laying there in the shrubs, it's brown paper wrapping damp and the writting smeared and bled. It he could just make a first name in the return address---Edna. He found himself going through it, when one of the pictures, a group shot with the names of the participants inscribed on the back as well as the photographer's name embossed in gold on the front. Two couples and a lone woman stood in front of an ornate iron-wrought gate, unfortunately the photograph was faded, and the writing too small to read it clearly, but he knew two. His mother. And the other was none other than Mr. Raines. The voice, which had been quiet until now, began to murmured in his head.

"Truth behind the gate!"

Disclaimer in part one. . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 13
Trish




With his arm still locked protectively around Parker's waist, Jarod guided her down the wooden staircase and into the back of the house toward the kitchen, her protestations of "being fine" falling on deaf ears. It wasn't until they reached the wooden table that she removed herself from his arm by pulling a chair out from the table and settling into it.

"Now let's see, what do we have for you to eat?" Jarod said as he rummaged through the refrigerator, popping the tops from rubber containers and the foil-covers from plates.

"No!" Parker said, quite crossly, her eyes glaring at him as he turned from his task, a container of brown liquid in his hands.

"I told you not to argue with me," he said, grinning as he removed the containers lid and poured its contents into a saucepan on the stove and set it to simmer. He then removed two bowls and two glasses from the white cupboard above him. Again he rummaged through the refrigerator, shuffling around containers and such before extracting the bottle of milk, which he placed on the table in front of Parker.

"For the umpteenth time--No! I don't want a drink of milk or whatever it is you're cooking."

"I'm not cooking, Parker, that would involve so much more. All I did is reheat some of Geilie's Scottish Beef Broth for you. I'm also going to pour you a glass of milk to wash it down with," Jarod replied, as he placed the bowls of piping hot soup in front of them and then returned to the counter for the glasses in which to pour the milk and two spoons.
Settling himself into the chair next to Parker, he watched her for a few moments as she cautiously dipped the spoon into the bowl.

"It's not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking," he muttered, before placing a spoonful into his mouth.

"Yeah, right!" she replied and then tentatively brought the spoon up towards her nose, inhaling its aroma. She hesitated just long enough to draw Jarod's mock ire.

"Eat, or I'll feed you myself."

"You wouldn't dare. . ." she exclaimed. She was totally shocked when he pushed her spoon into her mouth.

"Now swallow. That's a good girl," he laughed as he looked at her from across the table. Parker contemplated smacking his self-satisfied smile off his annoyingly handsome face when she realized the food really was appealing. Funny, she thought. A moment ago the idea of food made her stomach turn over, but now that she had actually taken a bite, she found herself suddenly very hungry. Well, lucky for you, Jarod, she thought as she took another bite. Her rumbling stomach had just saved his life.

***

Margaret was lying in bed silently fuming, her mouth dry as paper; she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to summon a little saliva. More than anything, she was annoyed... annoyed at herself for being surprised, and annoyed at Miss Parker for somehow managing to win a small battle in the war that raged between them. Fergus had arrived moments earlier, delivering news regarding the key, or lack thereof, and that's when the irked feelings had begun. She had hoped that the old man would return from the storage area with the key clutched tightly in his gnarled hand and a triumphant look upon his face. And though she was prepared to have that hope dashed, the sense of disappointment that flooded through her when he entered her room without said key had surprised her.

She dismissed the man with a blazing glare and watched as he skittered away, thankful to have escaped alive, no doubt. Catherine's daughter was proving to be far more of a challenge than her mother had ever been. It was the one drawback to the upbringing the girl had been allowed to have...she trusted no one, well, almost no one, and that meant that she was a formidable adversary. Margaret had to remind herself that it was she, in fact, who was in control. The girl's memories were her hostages, and she would wield that power whenever necessary in order to secure the future for the Centre that had always been planned.

Margaret stepped toward the window and looked down upon the moors that surrounded the caer. A shudder passed through her, and a fleeting thought of death seemed to float through the air. The Penfield woman must have gone to the ghosts. Just as well. The old woman seemed to know things she shouldn't, and Margaret was certain she had helped steer Jarod and Miss Parker toward each other the past few weeks. That had caused Margaret complications, and she hoped only that the devil had come to claim Violet Penfield in retribution for her interference.

The key...she had to get the key. If Miss Parker did have it, then they had to get it back. The question was, how to do it when Jarod hawked the woman's every move?

It was such a simple solution that Margaret chided herself for not coming to it sooner. She had separated them emotionally, now she had to separate them physically. Miss Parker would be vulnerable without Jarod at her side, and Margaret's men could take advantage of that to do what was needed to return the key to her possession.

Distracting Jarod would be simple enough. Margaret would just have to make a more lengthy appearance to her son...but Miss Parker--that was a challenge, unless...Her mind clicking, Margaret raced to the phone and pushed two buttons, an action that automatically connected her to the man she wanted.

"Doctor, yes it's me. You said that our girl would be vulnerable to suggestions even without further treatment, is that correct? Good, then I'd like you to prepare something for me. Something that will drive Little Miss Parker right out of Scotland and back home, alone, where she belongs."

Margaret turned away from the window and headed toward her bed. She slipped
between the covers, a smile of satisfaction on her face.

Hours later, the smile returned to Margaret's face as she pushed the button that would activate the signals sent out to the doctor's magnificent transmitter. The two of them had estimated what Parker's "inner sense" voice sounded like thanks to descriptions Catherine had once given to her "friend." Now this simulated voice, the one that sounded barely like a whisper in the large castle room, would do the work Margaret needed it to do--it would drive Jarod and Parker apart.

***

Parker placed the spoon back inside the empty bowl and reached for the napkin to wipe her mouth. She watched as Jarod picked up both bowls as well as the glasses, and placed them in the sink. He then set about washing them and putting the items away.

"That was delicious," she said softly. Jarod turned to look at her, smiling as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, encountering the cold metal located there. Pulling out the ring of keys, he walked back over to the table and set them in front of Parker.

"The constable gave these to me after the accident. I forgot all about them. They're all there." He watched carefully as she reached over and picked them up, her hand trembling. "And your car should be back day after tomorrow, as well."

"With everything that's been going on, I suppose that it's understandable that you forgot. What good are my house keys going to do you here in Inverness, any way? "

"It's just that----I figured that you'd be angry. Accuse me of -- I don't know--stealing them." His voice was troubled.

"Should I be angry?" she tried to sound reassuring, in spite of herself.

Jarod lowered his eyes, thinking of the small key he had removed from the ring earlier. Somehow, he knew that the safety deposit box key had something to do with what was happening to them, what had stolen away Parker's memories, and though he hated keeping yet another secret from her, he felt that he had to protect her from whatever dangers were lurking around them.

Parker interpreted Jarod's silence as a discomfort in being around her, and for some reason she couldn't quite place, it wounded her feelings. They had been enemies for so long, and yet it seemed strange to her for some reason that he would be so quiet around her. Why was that? Why would she care how Jarod felt about her or wonder at all about his reactions to anything?

As if on cue, Parker felt her head begin to pound. Every time she tried to place something from the past four months, her head would ache so badly she thought it would literally bring her to her knees. She was in so much pain that she couldn't stop the grimace that spread on her face. The change in her demeanor did not go unnoticed by her dinner companion.

"Parker? Parker, what is it?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." She squeezed the words out through clenched teeth, the pain setting off another wave of nausea. Parker knew she'd be fighting all night to keep down the soup she'd just eaten.

Jarod watched her coil more into herself as the discomfort grew worse. The sinking feeling in his stomach and the lump in his throat betrayed the panic that he was trying to keep in check. Something was wrong and now he knew it. No accident had left Parker in this condition, and he prayed that Broots and Sydney could uncover something to help him solve the mystery of what that was. In the meantime, though, he had to get her back to bed.

"Come on, Parker, let's get you upstairs."

She nodded--that was all the response Parker could muster--and Jarod reached out to help her from the chair. His heart screamed at him to just pick her up and carry her up the stairs, but he realized that while his Annsachd would have understood and even appreciated the gesture, Miss Parker would feel compelled to lash out at him, and right now he just didn't think he could take that.

It took several minutes for Jarod to ease Parker up the stairs and to finally get her settled in bed. He quickly extinguished the lights when he saw her shield her eyes from it, and once the room was dark he watched her curl up into a ball as she tried to fight the pain in her head.

"Remember."

Inside her head, Parker could hear the word screaming at her. Damn voices. Didn't they understand that every time she tried to remember she ended up in this agony? Why couldn't they just tell her what was wrong? Why, so many damn whys...

Jarod watched over Parker until her breathing finally eased and she was asleep. Then he headed down to reconnect the phone line. He didn't have time for another trip into town, he had to find out what Sydney and Broots had found, and he needed to know now.

Once inside Marley's office, Jarod quickly reconnected the telephone line into the jack. He then proceeded to push a series of numbers on the keypad.

"This is Sydney."

"It's me."

"Jarod, how's Miss Parker?" the older man asked.

"Still Miss Parker but without four months of memories," Jarod chuckled, slightly.

"Seriously, Jarod."

"Sorry, Sydney. Her memory loss wasn't caused by the accident. All her tests came back normal and the number of headaches she's been suffering from are leading me to believe that something or someone else is responsible."

"Which means that you two are in danger?" Sydney responded.

"That's a distinct possibility, but from whom? Everyone that matters from the Centre is accounted for, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're correct there. Cox and Lyle are running around Mexico trying to capture your father and ...." Sydney stopped short.

"Jason. I'm glad to hear that Mr. Broots didn't have any problems with my program. Now my next question, did he find anything in the Centre mainframe about Lachlan Abbott."

"I'll let him tell you what he found," Sydney said as he hand to the phone off to the nervous computer techie, who was shaking his head back and forth. The rapid breathing told Jarod that Sydney was no longer on the other end.

"Talk to me, Mr. Broots. And make it quick."

"There were are some references to Lachlan Abbott and Maggie Abbott. Only problem is that the files are in Mr. Parker's office and I haven't been able to get inside."

"Well, then get inside, Mr. Broots." Jarod said, the tone of his voice reminding Broots of Miss Parker. "Get me that information, so that I can compare it to mine."

"Sure, Jarod. I'll get right on it," Broots murmured to a dial tone.

***

When Parker awoke, she noticed that the storm from the previous night had abated and blue sky greeted her. The night had been a roller coaster ride for her, what with coming to grips with her lapse in memory, Jarod's hovering, and Violet Penfield's death, and her sleep had been plagued by dreams.

Parker settled back against the pillows waiting for that wave of nausea that had greeted her the last few mornings, and was surprised when it didn't come. Grateful, she padded out of bed and cast a quick glance into the small room that Jarod had taken up residence in since her release from the hospital. Finding it empty, she then headed for the closet, where she pulled out a blue satin blouse and a pair of black pants. Taking her choice of wardrobe with her, she entered the bathroom. After adjusting the facets, Parker stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to cascade down her, hopeful that it would wash away the remnants of last night's dreams.

As Jarod entered the bedroom carrying a silver tray that held breakfast for Parker, the sound of a hair dryer alerted him to the fact that she was up. Placing the tray on the ottoman, next to the armchair, he headed into the small room, closing the door behind him. Parker stared at herself in the mirror, not liking what she saw. She had hoped that the shower would refresh her yet there were still dark shadows under her eyes and that ugly bruise from the accident. She realized that no amount of concealer would help.

Opening the door, her gaze fell upon the tea tray and then to the closed door. She poured herself a cup of tea, but ignored the croissants. Sighing, she settled her body into the comfortable armchair and closed her eyes.

"I'm not surprised that you're still tired, you didn't exactly sleep like a baby last night," Jarod said, as Parker opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her.

"And how exactly does a baby sleep?" she replied, before taking a sip of her tea.

"Peacefully, but not you. Toss and turn, turn and toss." Jarod responded as he settled himself on the edge of the bed and reached for one of the croissants. Something troubling you?"

"Just dreams."

"Want to talk about them?" Jarod asked with a hint of a smile. "Perhaps your subconscious is trying to get you to remember."

"They were just dreams. I don't even remember them," she replied, her tone serious.

"I just thought that...never mind," Jarod stood up and headed toward the door, "my mistake. I just thought that you might want someone to talk too. To help you sort things out, but now that I know that you don't, I'll go offer my help elsewhere. Perhaps Marley will accept my shoulder to lean on."

Parker watched as Jarod angrily strolled out of the bedroom. She done it again, provoked him, and this time he'd left her alone to sort things out. Question was where did one start to sort things out, when one had no idea what to sort out? Maybe, she thought, she should try to figure out just why it was that Jarod's words "Perhaps Marley will accept my shoulder to lean on" had stung her. Did she care that Jarod was reaching out to another woman? The answer was clearly yes, and again she found herself asking the nagging question of why. Parker swore silently that if she ever did get a grip on what was going on, she would never use the word "why" ever again.

For the first time since the accident that little voice was quiet, instead of constantly badgering her with incessant chatter, and she wished she could set aside her mixed feelings about Jarod and just enjoy the silence. She brought the teacup up towards her, it's aroma causing her stomach to start roiling, that she leaned back in the armchair waiting for it to pass. So much for feeling better, she thought as the feeling began to subside.

She sat down the teacup and leaned her head back against the back of the chair. It was only a few moments later, when she heard a knock at the door that Parker realized she had drifted back to sleep. Since when did she need to sleep so much? Whatever had happened to her, it was certainly taking its toll on her body.

Parker stood and approached the door, expecting to find Jarod. Instead, she came face to face with Violet's hired man, Donal.

"Oh, hello, Donal. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, but the men are here to talk about Miss Violet's send off, and I think...well, she didna say it, but I think Miss Marley would appreciate havin' you there."

Parker sighed. Though she didn't really remember Marley or her grandmother, the two women had been very kind to her, and something about them seemed familiar to her. Besides, she'd had to plan a few funerals in her time, and she knew they weren't much fun.

"Of course, I'll go down and find her."

Donal stepped back into the hall as Parker exited the room. He reached to close the door when his eyes spied the tray on the ottoman.

"Are you done wit' yer tray, ma'am?"

Parker turned back and looked at the tray. Just thinking about the buttery croissants sitting on it made her stomach do a somersault.

"Yes, I am."

"I'll clear it up for ye then."

"Donal, you don't have to do that. I know you've lost Violet, too."

The young woman's kind words wounded Donal to his heart. She didn't deserve what that horrible woman had done to her-didn't deserve what he was about to do to her now, but he knew that he had no choice.

"It's okay, Ma'am. Better for me to keep busy."

The lass nodded at him and made her way down the hall. Once he was certain she was gone, Donal stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Then, with a heavy heart, he walked toward the lassie's bed. He took out the small device that Fergus had brought to him before the sun had even risen. The piece of silver metal was cold in his hands, and Donal wondered what its true purpose was, though he was certain what it had been created for--to cause more pain to the lass, and to Jarod.

An image of Ian filled Donal's mind, and so, despite his hatred for the mistress of the caer and his love for Violet and those she had cared for, he placed the small device on the backside of the headboard, just as he'd been told to. Then he sighed heavily as he picked up the tray and left the room.

***

Trawling through gigabytes of data, Broots found few references to Lachlan Abbott but many to one Maggie Abbott. He was anxious to bring up the files that he had on his computer, but first he decided to run the second phase of Jarod's plan. Once he'd set that into motion, Broots turned his attention back to the Maggie Abbott file, which was proving to be harder to crack than he anticipated. No matter which program he ran it through, the file came up blank.

Broots decided to hardcopy every page; perhaps having it on paper would help. It was not something he had ever seen before, the text obviously a mixture of characters and symbols. What he needed was some point of reference, some starting point on which to build. He started to separate the characters and run comparisons in all languages. Nothing.

Moody with frustration, he snapped at Sydney, who left to go work in the sim lab. Once Sydney had left, Broots decided to abandon the letters and work on the symbols. At last a hit. Broots felt the excitement of success thumping inside his rib cage. By noon, Broots had successfully fed his findings into the Hewlett. All he had to do was wait for the decoding to finish. When it did, what emerged was a long, intricate string of meaningless gibberish. Any normal person would have abandoned this project or slapped the keyboard in frustration. Not him. This was a test and he would not allow it to win. Too much depended on this information, he could feel it.

Looking at the paper, he realized that the order was wrong. So, he rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and glared at the pages. Slowly he started to figure it out, once he had it in the order he believed necessary for translation, he fed it in to the translator program he had devised. The computer hummed and whirred, converting all the information into binary. Several times it stopped to ask for confirmation of a symbol or letter. This eventually decreased in frequency as the computer began to decode the file by learning its secrets. Finally two words flashed on his screen: File Converted.

Fingers shaking with exhaustion and excitement, Broots clicked Print. Several pages scrolled from the DeskJet. It was in English, but more importantly, understandable.

"Well, Broots?" Sydney's voice startled him.

"It's a jigsaw puzzle, Syd and this is only a piece of a very complicated whole. There isn't much about Lachlan Abbott, other than the fact that he died under rather suspicious circumstances." Broots paused, briefly then continued. "There's information in the Centre's database about his sister, Maggie, but even that stops."

Sydney felt a lump in his throat.

***

A sense of danger surrounded him. It was similar to what he felt when he had leafed through the photo album on the plane ride here. Ethan looked around the countryside and tried to dismiss the feeling. He had to get to his sister, and soon. Somehow he knew that getting to her was the only thing that would ease the tension inside of him. And yet something here called to him.

Ethan stood hidden by the evergreens, feeling the full impact of the sight in front of him. He slipped a hand inside his jacket, withdrawing the faded photograph. There under the watchful gaze of two massive stone-carved eagles, was the black iron-wrought gate.

***

As Jarod began to drive, they sat in silence for the few minutes that it took them to drive around the lake for the church to come into view. It was a cobblestone structure built in the 1800s. It seemed to be an appropriate place for Violet, Jarod thought as a steady stream of cars approached the church and the lot around it.

They arrived back at the inn, where an informal receiving line had formed in the spacious parlor. Donal and Geilie, tears welling up in their eyes and their grandson Ian. Jarod smiled at the five year old boy. Scabby knees, two front teeth missing, and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. Violet's granddaughter, Marley was standing with Dr. MacKenna, greeting the guests and accepting condolences.

"Parker." Jarod pressed her arm and indicated the people waiting behind them to speak to Marley. He was more worried about her than ever after this morning. She'd woken up screaming, calling out for help from some subconscious danger she refused to share with him. He'd sat with her for nearly an hour trying to coax her into telling him what she'd dreamed, but Parker had refused, simply staring at him with a look that was equal parts fear and confusion.

"Jarod," her voice was weak and she felt nauseated, anxiously aware of the tea and scone that she had eaten for breakfast, earlier this morning," I need to sit down."

He guided her toward the sofa, but she collapsed into oblivion, his arms tightening around her. As she collapsed, she was instantly assailed by flashes of her nightmare, and of a strange new voice she'd heard over and over during the night-"You are danger to Jarod. You must leave Jarod."

Almost simultaneously, another voice, a more familiar one chanted its all-to-familiar refrain "Remember." It drowned out the concerned tones of Jarod and Marley and Dr. MacKenna, who were all suddenly cloistered around her.

Remember. The word was beginning to frighten her. And Jarod--why was she endangering him? At that, one clear thought formed in her mind...The Centre. The Centre was about to find her, and that meant finding Jarod. It didn't occur to Parker that finding Jarod was the one goal that had dominated her life for the past five years. No, all she could think was that she had to get away from him. Even though she had no idea why, she couldn't let them take him back there.

"Miss Parker," a woman's voice spoke, "Let's get ye upstairs." Parker nodded as she accepted the older woman's help. "Jarod, my medical bag be in the hatch, would ye be so kind as to..."

Jarod accepted the set of keys that where placed in his hands and excused himself. Dr. MacKenna helped Parker up the stairs and they eventually made it to the bedroom. She steered Parker to the bed and helped ease her down onto it. There was a knock on the door.

"Mairin, I have your medical bag," Jarod replied waiting to be allowed admittance. The door slowly opened and Mairin extended her hand and accepted the bag.

"You can go back downstairs, Jarod. Miss Parker will be quite safe with me. And when I'm done, I would prefer that my patient got some rest." She watched Jarod's features set, determantion crossing. "She'll been fine, Jarod. Now go." The door closed and Mairin MacKenna turned around and faced her patient.

Parker attempted an amused smile. What actually formed on her lips resembled that of a lemon-sucking grimace.

"Nausea?" Mairin asked, as she opened her bag and removed her stethoscope and penlight. Parker nodded. "Still experiencing headaches, as well?" Again Parker nodded. "Canna sleeping well either, are ye?"

"Did Jarod.... "

"Nay, ye pale and dark circles tell me ye canna sleep," Mairin glanced down at Miss Parker. "So, I'm going to take a blood sample." Parker frowned. " Or I admit ye back to hospital."

Parker offered her arm as Mairin reached inside her bag and removed a syringe. She had thought about arguing but she just didn't have the strength to do so. She grimaced as the needle pricked her skin.

"Now ye rest. I'll stop by later to check ye."

Disclaimer in part one. . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 14
Shannon



Parker looked at Mairin and recalled how she had turned Jarod away earlier, so she knew that arguing about resting would fall on deaf ears. Sinking down into the pillows and pulling the quilt up, Parker closed her eyes. Mairin closed the door behind her and made her way down the stairs, to find Jarod pacing below.

Looking up, he found Mairin coming down the stairs, a small smile on her features. As he opened his mouth to speak, Mairin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her smile growing.

"She be resting, Jarod. Ye need to leave her be."

"But...the headaches and nausea, I can understand those, but the fainting. Did we miss something?"

"Perhaps, I've taken some blood samples. Now I canna test them standing here talking, now can I."

"I'm going to go check...."

"Leave the lass to get some rest. Do ye understand me?" Mairin glared at Jarod, then smiled softly. "Trust me, Jarod. I told the lass I would return later, so let me go do what I have to." Jarod nodded and walked Mairin to the door.

***

Ethan had left Abbott Hall and taken a room at the inn called Cach Mhuilinn. He stretched out on the bed and slowly felt weariness creep into his arms and legs. A little sleep, an hour or two, he thought, that’s what I need to figure this out. So he let his eyelids close. But sleep was not meant to be. Images flashed, images that weren't his, plaguing him and affecting him so he painfully got to his feet, wavering like a willow in the high wind, and he staggered to the window of the inn. Opening the window, Ethan felt that the air was cool but not cold, and the warming sunshine cut through the blinds in slanted white lines.

As he fought off the pictures in his mind, Ethan truly noticed his surroundings for the first time. The village of Penrith was awash with vivid fall colors. The leaves had turned red and green and gold in perfect alternating angled stripes of about an inch wide. Yet the calmness that seemed to emanate around the village and the estate, or the caer as he’d hear the locals describe it, was just an illusion. Guarded by stone eagles and locked iron-wrought gates, Ethan could sense the treachery that permeated Abbott Hall and kept the truth locked away, deep inside.

He grimaced as someone else's frustration filled him. He was not alone. He felt a familiar sensation, similar to his mother's. Haunting cries whispered in his head almost bringing him to his knees again. Fighting, he found the strength to stay standing, but just barely. Cameron! That name was important. It meant everything. Had to find him. And she needed him. Ethan realized that this was the true beginning, leaving this place and following Cameron's call. He had no choice but to go, but he would come back to Abbott Hall. That dark place could wait. Wait until he, Parker and Cameron were together.

***

Parker allowed herself to sleep, bit it was a deep and restless one. Visions and voices fluttered in her head. A stone hallway. Dim and shadowy, and empty except for her. There was little light; the gray walls bare of lamp or lights, nothing at all to account for the faint glow. The air was dank and still, and somewhere in the distance voices whispered. Wherever she was, it was not the Centre. Frowning, she rubbed at her forehead. The Caer? Her head hurt, and thoughts were hard to hold on to. There had been something about ...the Caer? It was gone, whatever it was.

She licked her lips and wished she could remember. It was the whispering that urged her on. She started toward the steady psst ---- psst---- psst. The corridor stretched on, the only features at all were the rough wooden doors at regular intervals. She continued on but the whispers never got any closer. She decided to try one of the doors. It opened easily, and she stepped through into a grim, stone-walled room. On the wall opposite her hung an old cheval looking glass. Odd, she thought as she looked into it, expecting to see her reflection but seeing only a blur. It was then that the voices started again, louder and clearer. Turning to run, she saw a coffin, lid open and inside lay....

‘Danger to Jarod,’ the voice whispered in the stillness of her mind. A familiar voice. If she listened hard enough she was sure she would know it. ‘Danger to Jarod.’ Suddenly a chill ran along her bones; an icy clamminess settled on her skin; as dueling voices battled.

‘Leave Jarod,’ the quieter voice whimpered, insistent and eager.

Parker sat bolt upright, gasping for breath and shivering, staring. Glancing around the room, she realized that she was alone. Slowly her breathing calmed. The quilt lay at the edge of the bed, where it had fallen when she woke. Her head hurt, not that it surprised her. A dream like that was enough to give anybody a headache.

But was it just a dream? At first she’d thought it so and the voices only words, yet her other dreams paled and faded, and this one would not. It lingered, haunted her. Just like the vision of her mother after the explosion…the vision that had seemed a dream and turned out to be a premonition. As the realization of that sunk in, Parker pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, but it was not the cold that made her shake. Her head hurt. Perhaps Jarod could do something to stop the dreams or to help her interpret their meaning. He had offered to listen, earlier, should she call him up here? With a gasp she lay back. Were the dreams really bad enough for her to ask help from him? On the other hand could anything she did now get her in any deeper? She needed to find the truth about how she had ended up in Scotland, missing four months of her life, and that just didn't seem possible with Jarod at her side, concerned and hovering. And what if her “dream” was another premonition, a sign, that if she stayed...why did she have to choose?

‘Away, you need to be away.’ The words echoed in her throbbing head. Images kept flashing through her mind. It was than that she realized that the choice was made. She scrambled out of bed quickly. She hesitated a moment, only to hear the phrase again. ‘Leave Jarod.’ She found herself staring into the mirror on the wall, her reflection a blur. She could almost make out her features, and there was something more…those of someone else?

Parker shook her head, snapping herself from the reverie. She had to get away. She picked up the keys that she had tossed on the top of the dresser and rummaged in the top drawer , finding the envelope of cash that she’d found when Jarod had brought her back from the hospital. Granted, her passport was still missing but what mattered at this moment was that she leave, not where she was going. If she was to accept what her inner sense was telling her, then Jarod needed to be free of her.

Hurry, the voice said softly, "time grows short."

The house had grown quieter since she’d gone upstairs to rest, but there were still several people inside the parlor and Parker had no doubt that Jarod was one of them. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs and slipped into the door that had once served as the maid’s entry door. It passed from the hall straight into the kitchen. She listened for voices when she reached the kitchen side and heard two women getting coffee. Soon, their chatter petered out as they left the room, and Parker carefully opened the door. Empty. Relieved, she crossed to the back door of the inn and, sparing a glance to make certain her path was clear, headed directly for the car that matched the ignition key on her ring. Within moments, she’d started the car and was headed down the road.

As Parker headed toward the horizon, there was a sense of comfort in being on the road, under the low, cloudy night sky, miles from anything-anyone familiar. This feeling she recognized, and in an odd way, it made her feel better. After all, she was used to being on her own, used to solving her own problems. She would find a way to figure this out without Jarod’s “help.”

Through all of her caution in leaving, Parker had eluded Jarod but had not gone completely without notice. Fergus, Margaret’s hired man, had been watching the inn for any action involving the young American woman, and as she drove off down the road, he pulled out the cell phone his mistress demanded her carry at all times and dialed.

“The lass be gone, ma’am.”

"The tracking device is in place, " Margaret asked.

"Aye."

"Good. Let me know where she goes. She's your responsibilty Fergus, tell Donal to remove the transmitter from the bedroom at the inn. It served its purpose, but I may have need for it and I want it handy, just in case. Understood!"

"Understood."

Placing the cell phone on the table; leaning back into her chair, Margaret stared out the window at the low clouds hanging in the night sky, a smile forming.

Disclaimer in part one. . . .


The Truth Hurts
Part 15
Lizzy aka chopsticks



Jarod paced back and forth, slowly but surely wearing a hole in the ornate rug that was placed upon the floor. What could be taking so long? It was a simple blood test--one he could have done several times by now. He sighed and looked into the fireplace. The fire was crackling and hissing, but he didn’t notice. He was deep in his thoughts, and they all revolved around a single thing. Her.

It was always her, but more so lately. It was wreaking havoc on his nerves having her not remember everything they shared. They had spent the last four months getting to know each other. They made little discoveries about each other every day, and they had enjoyed every minute of it. He had even found it fun to discover all the little idiosyncrasies about her, how she had to put everything back in a certain spot and how she had to look just so before going out of their room, despite his constant remarks about how beautiful she looked. And most of all, they had spent the last several months falling in love, and that was what hurt him the most. She couldn’t remember any of it. She couldn’t remember how much he loved her, or how much he wanted to just be with her and no one else.

It was like a knife to the heart knowing that the beautiful woman upstairs had no idea how he felt about her just because she couldn’t remember. He had always hoped that their love would transcend such things as this, but it was just a fantasy. This was reality, and she couldn’t remember a thing about their relationship together, at least the best part. Sure, she could remember everything prior to the last four months, but not after.

He turned and walked the short distance to the couch, settling himself down in the cushions. He laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, memories of the past four months washing over him. Her smile, her lips, her smell, the way she moaned his name when they made love. He felt the silent tears streaming down his cheeks as he thought about her and the life they had shared just a few days ago.

He had been so happy then, everything was perfect. He had the girl of his dreams and he didn’t need to worry about the Centre. He had felt so free then. He had felt that nothing in the world was going to stop him from being happy for once. Boy, how wrong he had been.

He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes, not wanting to waste anymore time crying. He had to wait until Mairin got back with the results from the blood test, and hopefully with some answers.

*****

Ethan had gotten out on a main road. Another main road. He had been over at least a dozen in the past few hours. The voices were so confusing. First they would tell him to go one way, then they would say another. It wasn’t making sense and left him wondering if the voices even knew where they were going. But that was silly, they had to know. They seemed to know everything. He just had to listen to the voices, follow the voices. He’d get to his half-sister and Cameron soon, that he was sure of. He just needed to trust the voices.

He listened to them again as they instructed him to take a different road now, heading west instead of east. He turned onto the next road and kept on going. Why were the voices telling him to go in so many different directions? The only reason why would be that Miss Parker was moving around, possibly driving. She had to be driving, that would explain why he was being sent all over the place. She didn’t want to be found, and when that happened, it became impossible to track her. Well, impossible for any normal person, but Ethan wasn’t a normal person.

He could never be a normal person, not ever. He had a gift, but it was a burden to bear and kept him from interacting with others as much as he would hope to. It was something that would be with him for the rest of his life, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. It was helpful at times, but at others it just made him stand out in a crowd. There were times when he had wished he was never given this gift, and that he didn’t have to be a part of the crazy life of the Centre.

He quickly dismissed his depressing thoughts when he thought of Miss Parker again. She needed him to find her, and he had to, before it was too late. Her life depended upon it.

"Hurry..." his mother’s voice whispered in his mind. "You must find her, before it's too late."

Ethan stepped on the gas pedal and floored it, maxing out the speedometer. The leaves behind him were lifted up and swirled in the air by his acceleration.

*****

Miss Parker was feeling invigorated and much more relaxed. Drives always seemed to help her, even if she didn’t know the countryside or where she was going. Leaving had been a good idea, a very good one indeed. It may not have been her own, but she was glad she did
it nonetheless.

She felt such a freedom that she hadn’t felt in a long time, not since Tommy. But even then she hadn’t been truly free. She had still been in the clutches of the Centre, and that had lead to his death. Tears came to her eyes at the thought of Tommy, but she pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to ruin the relaxing atmosphere.

She was truly happy, out here all alone. She didn’t have to worry about the Centre or about her father, her psychotic brother, or even Jarod anymore. They weren’t her problem as long as she stayed out here. Everything could just disappear, all her problems, everything. Especially her biggest problems of all: the memory of the last four months and Jarod. She wished they could just disappear.

But, strangely, she felt almost bad for leaving and not at least telling Jarod. He had shown her so much kindness and care over the past several days, even when she didn’t deserve it. She knew it had something to do with the last four months, but she didn’t know what. It was troubling knowing that something important had happened but not knowing what it was.

Her mind drifted back to Jarod again, and she began to think of his reactions to her disappearance. She didn’t have any idea how he would react to it. Would he understand that she had to do it to save him? Probably not. The arrogant bastard would be too stuck on the fact that she had left and he hadn’t noticed it.

Her thoughts turned to ones of anger and hatred towards him. Anger for making her become a part of the Centre again and hatred for always dangling something about her mother in her face. She pushed these thoughts away and tried to calm herself. She wasn’t going to start thinking about her problems now. She was going to relax, and that was that.

She turned on the radio and let the music fill her soul, comforting and lulling her back to her previous state of relaxation. She was feeling better now, relaxed and free.

But there was a nagging doubt in her mind that she had felt this free and relaxed before. She just couldn’t remember it, and that was the problem. She couldn’t remember anything anymore. Well, at least anything from the last four months that is. She pushed the thought away and decided just to enjoy the ride. It was rare for her to go on this kind of a trip, and she wasn’t going to let something as silly as thinking get in her way.

*****

Fergus looked up towards the old house. He hated having to come here. To be precise, he hated the work he had to come here to do. It wasn’t fair to the lass to be doing this to her, but he had to. Margaret had left him no choice. He owed her, and she would never let him forget that.

He crept through the surrounding mist to the back oak door, checking to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. He quietly slipped through, listening to the soft click of the door closing behind him. He turned around and came face to face with Donal. He was so surprised he jumped back a bit and almost slammed into the door.

“Shh! Aye man! Ye want t’ get everybody’s attention?” Donal hissed at him.

“Sorry. Where is it?” he whispered back, afraid that someone might walk in on them.

“Behind the headboard in her room. Her room is the second one to the left upstairs. The stairs are to the right from the kitchen. Good luck.”

“Thanks!” Fergus whispered to Donal’s retreating back.

He quickly moved out of the kitchen and to the staircase to the right of the kitchen and hurried up them, pausing for a moment when the old wooden floor creaked under his weight. When he was sure that no one had heard, he continued on his way, coming to the top and heading left.

He made his way down the hall and entered her room. He closed the door behind him and went over to the headboard. He removed the small device used to get Miss Parker away from Jarod and slipped it in his pocket. He went back out the way her came, not even glancing back for fear he would get caught.

He got in his car and drove away from the house. He hoped that Jarod would be able to find Miss Parker and bring her back. He didn’t like seeing them separated. He could tell they were meant for each other, and he didn’t understand why Margaret wanted to keep them apart.

There were a lot of things about Margaret he didn’t understand. Like why she had saved his life. It didn’t make sense to him. It couldn’t have just been about getting someone to do her dirty work. There seemed to be more to it than that, but he wasn’t sure what it could be.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number, slowing down as he did so. His ear was greeted with a brisk hello from the woman he was forced into working for.

"I’ve got th’ device."

"Wonderful. Get here immediately."

"Aye missus, but I’ve got one question for ye."

"What?"

"Why do ye want to do t’is to them?"

"Are you questioning me? How dare you question me! I saved your life all those years ago and I even pay you now! Don’t you dare start to question me or I will take your life away just as easily as I saved it!"

"Aye missus," Fergus mumbled, wincing with every word she spat at him.

"I’m glad we understand each other. Now get your ass down here NOW!"

"Aye missus."

Fergus really did hate her, but he knew that if he wanted to live, he’d have to follow every word she said. She had something to hold over his head, and it was a big something. He was too much of a coward to give up his life to stop her, though he doubted he would be able to. She’d just use Donal or someone else to get what she wanted. She was daft, that was for sure. She was dumb for thinking that he wouldn’t betray her, even with his life being the price to pay if he was caught. He smiled as he thought of the note he had left on the lass’s bed. Someone will come looking for her, and when they do, they’ll find the note. She was most certainly daft, and he was the cunning one this time.

*****

"Syd, has anyone heard from Jarod or Miss Parker lately?" Broots asked as Sydney circled around his computer terminal. Sydney seemed to hesitate a second as if he was deciding whether or not to tell Broots something, but he finally shook his head in the negative.

"Oh. I was kinda hoping that we did. It just isn’t the same around here, ya know?"

"Yes, I do Broots. I understand completely. Why don’t you come over tonight and we can talk, would that be okay?" Syd asked, sending Broots a look that said ‘I got information that you want to know and I’m gonna tell you tonight.’

"Yeah, sure. Debbie’s gonna stay over at her friend Anne’s house anyways. It’ll be nice to have some company and a real adult to talk to again."

"Excellent!"

Sydney was just about to leave, when the door opened and Lyle walked in, dressed in a black suit, massaging his new thumb. He looked at the two and grinned, letting the thumb go when Syd looked at it.

"The thumb is still bothering you, Mr. Lyle?" Sydney asked politely, with the clinical detachment he brought up whenever he was faced with someone he didn‘t particularly care for.

"Not really, I just love the way it feels. It’s so great to have my thumb back, don’t you think, Broots?" Lyle stated, turning towards Broots who had been slowly slinking downwards in his chair.

"Uh, ye-yes sir."

"Wonderful. I’ve left poor Mr. Cox down in Mexico hunting after Jarod’s father and the clone. But that isn’t my main concern anymore. I’m sure Cox can handle it; well, almost sure. My concern is finding out whether or not you have found any leads on our wayward Labrat or my sister who’s been on a vacation—which was only meant to be a month, A MONTH--for five months?"

"Well, we have gotten a few leads on Jarod. This latest one is in California on Malibu Beach, where’s he’s supposedly working as a lifeguard," Sydney said, diverting the attention back to him and away from Broots, who seemed to have become just a head hovering above a desk with white fingers holding onto the desk for dear life.

"Well, then. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!" Lyle shouted as he opened the doors and held them open for the other two.

"Lyle, I think it would be best if we stay behind. We don’t want to become a hindrance. I’m sure you and a sweeper team could handle it just fine."

Lyle glanced back and forth between the two, then finally conceded. "All right, fine. But, if I find out that you warned Jarod about our arrival, I’ll have your heads!"

The doors slammed behind him, and one word was exchanged between the two occupants of the room. "Uh-oh."

*****

Ethan was getting tired. He had been on the road for over twelve hours with no luck. Every direction the voices had sent him in was just another dead end. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep on looking when his eyes wouldn’t even focus anymore. He decided that he needed to get some sleep otherwise he could end up in an accident, and that wouldn’t help Miss Parker at all.

He entered a small town, inland and started to look for an inn. He slowly made his way through the city, looking around him for any signs of someplace that was made for travelers. He finally came across one at the other side of the town, barely visible even under the yellow streetlights. He pulled over to the curb and got out, stretching his tired muscles.

The voices were wildly protesting this stop, but he didn’t care. He needed to sleep. That nap he had had back in Penrith had kept him going for a while, but now he needed to stop again. He slowly walked up to the door and rapped on it gently, reading the sign on it.

"Nevis Inn," he read aloud, jumping as the door suddenly opened and an older man peered over the rim of his thick-framed glasses at Ethan.

"Uh, hi. I need a place to stay."

The man just mumbled his understanding and invited Ethan in, closing the door and bolting it behind him. He went over to the counter and pulled out the guest book.

"Name?" the man asked gruffly, pulling a pen out from behind the desk.

"Uh, Ethan."

"Ethan what?"

Ethan realized that he’d have to give the man a last name, and tried to come up with one. He said the first one off the top of his head.

"Parker, Ethan Parker."

"Great. You’re in room two. If you need anything, just ring the bell," the man said, shoving a key in Ethan’s face and then turning to leave.

"Thanks!" Ethan called after the man, but got no response. He headed over to room two and opened the door. He walked in and dropped himself on the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes or turn back the covers.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, his mind was plagued by his failure to find Miss Parker. It bothered him that she had always seemed to be just out of his reach. He felt horrible for not being able to find her today. He felt as if he had failed his mother. He slung his arm over his eyes and tried to push the horrible thoughts away, but they wouldn’t leave. He needed comforting, but he wasn’t going to get it all alone in a motel room. He considered getting up and just walking around but decided against it. He just needed to accept that he had failed his mother, and that he needed to try harder tomorrow.

"You haven’t failed me," his mother’s voice whispered in his mind.

"Yes, I have. I wasn’t able to find her!" he said sorrowfully to her, trying to prove his point.

"She’s a stubborn girl, you shouldn’t expect to find her so easily," Catherine whispered, soothing Ethan with her voice.

"I know... but it seems like it should be easy with the others guiding me."

"But it won’t be. Finding anybody with just the others can be a difficult task, but finding your sister can be an impossible one. Just focus on the voices and you’ll find her, I promise." her voice whispered as it faded away into the night. Ethan fell into a dreamless sleep, feeling much more confident and happier than he had before.

*****

TBC....

Special Thanks to Trish for clearing up the confusion I had initally writing this and for beta-ing it! You're a lifesaver!!! :)

Disclaimer in part one...thanks to Niceole and Trish..I corrected this copy



The Truth Hurts
Part 16
by Michele



Margaret paced impatiently, waiting for Fergus to return to the Caer with the transmitter. It had served its purpose for the time being, and she wanted it back in her hands instead of attached to the headboard of Miss Parker's bed. But at this particular moment, Margaret had to exert her power back at the Centre. She reached for the telephone and hit the speed dial button and within moments of it connecting, a familiar voice answered.

"Parker, here."

"She's on her own."

"She left him."

"For the moment."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to seperate them, for a while. I wasn't the one that put this game in motion. You can thank Mr. Lyle for that. If he hadn't throw in with Alex, then none of this would be necessary. You need to keep him occupied, Parker. Miss Parker and Jarod are my concern, now. Put Lyle in charge of locating Mirage, but if I find him poking his nose where it doesn't belong, I can send his little world in to a tail spin if I choose. Don't make me do that! Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course. Can I send a sweeper team for Jarod?" Mr. Parker asked, a small hopeful smile on his features.

"And where would you like to send that sweeper team too?" Margaret laughed, " I know, Timbuktu. Where they are is my business. Have you discovered how they found that picture in the first place?"

"Not yet,"Mr. Parker responded, then paused briefly," How is my angel?"

"Oh that's rich, parental concern coming from you. She knows that you're not her father, Parker, thanks to Alex. That wasn't suppose to happen, at least not yet. I suppose that I should be grateful that Catherine didn't include that juicy tidbit of information in those journals of hers that I found, and obviously Jarod hasn't stumbled across it either."

"So you still believe that that information is still out there?"

"Of course, you old fool. Catherine knew the truth and somewhere there's a DSA along with the rest of her journals waiting to be found."

"You think that she's going to lead you to them, don't you? How is that possible, since you blocked her memories."

"Let's just say that she has something that should peak her curiousity, memory block or not. She'll lead me to them. I'll let you know when I have them, in the mean time, inform Lyle that the triumverate wants him to leave Miss Parker alone as well as my son. Locating and securing Ethan is much more pressing. My sources sighted him in Pennslyvannia, send Lyle there."

The static noise coming through his phone, indicated that the conversation was over. Instead of hanging up, he punched in a series of numbers and waited.

"Yes, Mr. Parker," the male voice on the other end replied.

"The call that just came through on my private line, did you etablished
the trace on it."

"Yes, sir, the trace was established but....." the technican stammered.

"But....." Mr. Parker demanded.

"Timbuktu, sir. That's where it was placed. Do you want to send a team?"

"No, it's not necessary. " He slammed the receiver into its cradle, muttering angrily when the door to his office burst open.

" Dad, where the hell is my sister?"

"Lyle, just the person I needed to see, the triumverate has an important assignment for you. Locating and returning Mirage." Mr.Parker came around his desk and placed an arm on his son's shoulder, heading back toward the door he just entered.

"I was about to leave for California, a lead on Jarod," Lyle stopped and stared, confusion clearly clouding his features.

"Sam will go. These orders came from the triumverate, Lyle. And don't worry about your sister, she's got her own assignment to complete for the triumverate."

"Then her so called vacation isn't really a vacation, is it?" Lyle quiered.

"No, business as usual."

"The hunt for Mirage, uh. Any clues as to where to look? At least we know that the Major and the boy are running around Mexico, couldn't you call Cox back to intiate the search and I'll go back down and take over for him."

"The triumverate specfically asked that you head up this search. There was a sighting in Pennslyvannia, check with Broots." Mr. Parker reached for the knob of his door and opened it, stepping out into the corridor with Lyle.

"Fine!" Lyle huffed and headed toward the elevator.

***

The owner stirred when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel. There was barely any light left in the sky, and he had just made a pot of tea and was reluctant to get up. But his curiosity got the better of him. Visitors to Kyle of Lochalsh seldom ventured out this late when the rains of October lashed the sky even though the historic coastal town on the Loch Garve was the starting point for the more colorful attractions and such on the Island of Skye. This night's weather was not fit for hound or human.

Peering through his gatehouse window, he saw a woman get off of the omnibus from Glenfinnan. Dressed for the weather, she had on a waterproof jacket, dark pants, and walking boots.

The owner watched the way the woman stepped away from omnibus and looked around, taking in her surroundings. Cautious like. She approached then opened the door and stepped into the foyer, oblivious to the loose strands of wet hair that hung limp around her face.

Shufflng into the foyer, Alasdair Ross stared at the young woman that stood before him. Something cold and sharp danced along his spine, making him shudder. She was in her mid-thirties, tall, with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. Alabaster skin, high cheekbones and her eyes, blue like the sea.

She wasn't sure how long she had stood there, like an abandoned forgotten statue, or what had finally made her take a step.

"Catie?" Catie Jamison? Yer 'ere?" Alasdair stepped closer, realizing his mistake.

"Yer no Catie."

"No, my name's Miss Parker. The MacDonalds at Glenfinnan told me that you had a cottage I could rent. Some place quiet and remote from prying eyes."

"Yer be her twin. Sweet Catie. She 'asn't ben here in o'er twenty years. Parker, ye says, Catie was wedded to a Parker o'er the states. Where be me manners? Come warm yerself, 'ave a spot o' tea wiv me, please?" He extended a hand for the wet jacket and placed it on the brass coat rack next to the door.

"This Catie, you speak of, my mother was Catherine Jamison Parker, did you know her?" Miss Parker asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair next to the stone hearth.

"O' course, yer 'er daug'ter. She 'oped that one day, yer come to see Ceol Na Mara." the old man smiled, as he took a seat opposite of Parker.

"Ceol Na Mara?" Parker asked, Alasdair amazed at her gaelic pronounciation.

"Music of the Sea. The cottage, it be 'er place. I n't lettin' yer go there by yerself, yer miss it'n the dark, lass. Summink to eat, first. Yer to tell me w'y yer come?"

"I'm not sure why? After my car broke down in Glenfinnan, something told me to take the ominbus," Parker said, leaning back into the rocking chair.

***

Jarod woke with a start, someone was shaking his shoulder and talking to him rather excitedly. Palming his eyes, he looked up to find Marley staring down at him, her features twisted in panic.

"'ave ye seen Parker, Jarod?" Marley repeated.

"Not since this after the funeral, why?" Jarod was on his feet, quickly and heading toward the stairs. "She's suppose to be resting."

"She's no be in her room. Geilie be takin' a tray for her, it be empty." Marley reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. " Her auto be missin', too." Jarod slipped past Marley, taking the stairs two at a time, reaching the bedroom door, in record time. Not bothering to knock, he pushed the door wide open, and surveyed the room. He noted that the closet door stood open, as well as the armoire drawer for which he headed. Pulling it open even further, Jarod noted that his sweaters and shirts had been rifled through, and the envelope that contained the cash lay on top of them.

"She took her car," Jarod repeated the question to Marley.

"Aye, why?"

"There was still a problem with it, it wasn't running right. Rory was having trouble with it and wanted to replace the fuel injector system. This isn't good. You said that Geilie found the room empty, where's Geilie now?"

"She be in the kitchen wiv' Ian, bakin'. Ye need to go easy wiv her, Jarod. Grannie's death 'it 'er 'ard."

"All I want to know is if Parker left a note, something, anything. At least she can't go far."

"The lass could be 'eaded 'ome, Jarod."

"Not possible, I have her passport," Jarod left the room and headed back down the stairs and toward the back of the inn to the kitchen. Upon entering he found Geilie and her young grandson, busy kneading dough for bread. Ian was covered head to toe in flour, and Geilie's cheeks were also white from the flour but one could tell that she'd been crying.

"Geilie?"

"Lad, yer lass be gone. Did Miss Marley tell ye tha'."

"Yes, Geilie, she did. What I need to know was there a letter, note, anything that would explain where she went or why?" Jarod looked into the older woman's grey eyes, hoping for that little glimmer of hope, but none came. Geilie shook her head and quickly returned her gaze to the little boy between them.

"Oh, Parker, " Jarod muttered and headed for the back door," Tell Marley that I'm going to go see Mairin at the hospital and then search around Inverness. I don't know when I'll be back, so don't wait up. If Mairin should come here looking for us, tell her to meet me back at St. Andrew's.

"Aye, lad. God speed. I 'ope yer find 'er."

The door slammed shut and Geile reached a hand inside of the pocket of her flour covered apron, her fingers curling around the letter that she'd found on the bed. She wished with all her heart that Violet was still alive, so that she could speak to her about the letter's contents. Evil had returned to Inverness the likes of which Geile hadn't seen or thought of in over thirty years. Not since Lachlan Abbott was found dead up at the Caer.

The night was cold, dark and rainy, as Jarod headed toward St. Andrew's. He watched the cars that passed him, hoping to see Parker's black sportster heading back toward Penfield's or perhaps stranded on the side of the road. He prayed desperately that she'd only went for a drive and that she had no memory of how to return had sought shelter somewhere. The night reminded him of the night not four days ago when he'd found her unconscious, with her car not in top condition the thought crossed his mind again. He pushed the panic away and stopped his car in front of Connor's pub.

***

A steady pelting of rain against his bedroom window woke Ethan from a restless sleep. Stumbling toward the bathroom door, he splashed some cold water on his face and then went in search of a bit to eat. Making his way down the hallway, he found himself standing in the middle of a large warm cozy parlor. A middle-aged man was busy stoking the blaze in the fireplace, his back to his guest.

"Excuse me," Ethan said softly.

"Sleep well, lad? Ethan, ye looked plum exhausted when ye arrived. I reckon ye might be a bit hungry, too? Liam MacDonald." the man said, extending his hand.

"Yes, yes I am," Ethan smiled and took hold of the extended hand, shaking it.

"Claire," Liam called out," the lad be hungry. Come sup with my daughter and I. Ye can tell me what brings ye to Fort William and Ben Nevis."

"My sister," Ethan started to speak, stopping to stare into the dancing flames of the fires, listening to the faint murmurs in his head, not realizing that he had spoken the word out loud.

"Kyle?"

"Aye, Kyle of Lochalsh."

"Of Lochalsh?"

"It's but three hours from here, lad. Ye can travel in this weather, though, it's a dark road in the rain, best leave in the morn'. Yer sister be safe."

"Safe." Ethan nodded, than took a seat at the table, accepting the bowl of piping hot soup.

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 17
by N.R. Levy



Donal looked at the small device in his hand, wishing more than anything that he could throw it down into the loch rather than use it. Yet he knew he could not. If that evil harpy found out he’d kept information away from her...well, Ian would pay, and Donal just couldn’t let that happen. He pushed the button the witch had programmed for him and waited to hear her voice.

“Yes?”

“He…Jarod, he be knowin’ the lass is gone.”

“Has he gone looking for her?”

“No, ma’am. He be headin’ for town and the doctor. The lass was ailin’ before and they did some testin’. I think he be wantin’ the news before he goes to find her.”

“Follow him.”

He nearly dropped the phone when he heard the venom that had suddenly crept into her voice.

“I got no reason to be in town, ma’am. If he lay his eyes on me…”

“Then don’t let him see you.”

The line went dead, and Donal sighed, knowing he had no choice but to do what he’d been ordered to do once again.

Alasdair Ross crept quietly down the hall, not wanting to disturb his young guest. The woman…aye, he reminded himself, Catie Jamison’s daughter, had fallen asleep beside the fire while he’d prepared a fresh pot of tea. He had decided to let her rest while dinner finished cooking, and then he would take her to Ceol Na Mara.

Smiling, he thought of how the young one’s face had lit up as he’d told her of Catie’s love for the small cottage, and how she had come to see him years earlier, asking him to prepare the house for her arrival. She had planned to stay at the cottage with her daughter and two other children. When she hadn’t arrived as planned, Alasdair had called an old friend of his who’d moved to the States and asked him to check up on little Catie. It was then that Alasdair learned of the beauty’s death, and a sad pall had fallen over the cottage, remaining, he honestly believed, every day since, as if her spirit was lying dark and fretting upon it.

It seemed right that her bairn was here now. Aye, how Catie had loved that little girl. Went on and on about her, she had, when she’d come to visit, despite the heavy weight she seemed to be carrying on her heart at the time. Alasdair remembered trying to get her to open up to him about what was frightening her so, but Catie had only patted his hand and told him he worried too much.

He pulled supper from the oven and was just turning down the heat when he heard Parker call out. He rushed toward the sound, finding her still asleep in the chair beside the fireplace, but she was as far from peaceful as any one could be. Sweat poured down her face, and a look of genuine anguish had replaced the quiet beauty on her face. Knowing of nothing else to do, Alasdair moved toward her, gently shaking her.

“Come on, lass. Let go of the dark. Come on.”

Parker’s eyes flew open and she nearly jumped out of the chair. Her eyes blinked wildly as she looked around her trying to get her bearings. Then her she focused on the man standing beside her, and her memory began to fill in the blanks of the day…. running…running from Jarod, from her lost memories, from the voices….and she had ended up here in Kyle of Lochalsh. Why? What had brought her here?

“Ye be all right now, lass?”

Smiling weakly, Parker looked up at her host and nodded.

“Well, I’m off to get ye some supper. If ever a body needed a wee bit of nourishment…I’ll never understand why Yanks try to starve their lasses to a bone.”

The comment managed to bring a slightly genuine smile to Parker’s face as he host wandered off. But once she was alone again, her mind returned instantly to the questions it had posed for itself just a moment ago. What had brought her here? The voices…yes, at least one of them. Her mother’s voice. It was her mother who wanted her here. But why? And why did the voices continue to change so often? Most of the time, it was her mother she heard…but sometimes there was a chorus of voices and sometimes the small, hard to understand voice that seemed to do nothing but ramble.

Then there was the other voice, the new one that had warned her against being close to Jarod. Since she’d left Inverness, that voice had grown silent, and Parker was more than grateful. It had not given her a sense of comfort like her mother’s or provided help like the others so often did. That voice had done nothing but terrify her in a part of her even she didn’t completely understand.

Thinking of Inverness made Parker think of Jarod. He’d have figured out by now that she was gone. He would be so worried. ‘Stop it, Parker,’ she chided herself. This is why you left…distance, perspective. Get a grip on yourself and figure out what the hell’s been going on the past four months.

Only that wasn’t why she left, and in her heart, she knew it. She’d left because the voice had told her staying would endanger Jarod, and for some reason, that frightened more than any other possibility she could think of.

Donal pulled up outside the hospital and saw Jarod’s car parked in the lot. Deciding against wasting his energy trying to think up a lie to cover his tracks, Donal had simply stopped at a few key spots looking for Parker. If anyone asked, he’d simply say he’d heard that she’d left and gone searching for her. He’d seen Jarod’s car here and decided to stop and see if he’d found her.

Carefully, the older man moved through the hallways toward Dr. MacKenna’s office. He was almost at the door when heard Jarod’s voice come from inside.

“Mairin, are you sure? Do you realize…”

“Aye, Jarod. She’ll have no idea how this happened, let alone when or wit' who. Ye’v got to find her, and quickly.”

“Do you think…Mairin, do you think everything is okay? I mean, I know it could all just be routine, but she’s been so weak and with her fainting today…”

“I think they both be fine, Jarod, but we’ll be certain once they be home and I do a bit of checkin’. Have ye any idea where she’d go?”

Jarod sighed heavily, and Donal could hear the pain in his response.

“I don’t know what’s going on inside of her anymore, Mairin. I just don’t know.”

Wracked with guilt, Donal turned and headed down the hall and back out of the hospital. His stomach turning, he took out the phone and dialed again.

“Yes?”

“Somethin’ be wrong with the lass. The doc say she’ll be right confused and won’t know how it happened. I didn’t hear what exactly they be meanin’, but Jarod….”

“I’m not worried about Jarod, I need to know what’s wrong with Parker. Oh, nevermind. Get back to the house and let me know if you hear anything else.”

Margaret snapped the phone closed and whirled around on her heel, almost throwing it. What the hell was happening now? Some side effect from the brainwashing? But no, nothing had ever gone wrong before. There had to be a way of finding out what it was without tipping her hand.

A knock sounded on her door and Margaret uttered a rather unintelligible “come in” that brought one of her personal sweepers into the room.

“Yes?”

“The transmitter was stopped in Glenfinnan for some time, ma’am. We had someone check on it, and it seems her car broke down there. Do you want us to ask around and see where she might be?”

Margaret smiled, her eyes signaling the sudden sense of calm she felt once her advantage was partially regained. So much like Catherine…really, it was uncanny that two people could be so similar given all the years that Miss Parker had been without her mother’s guiding hand. Yet it was a likeness that had, once again, played into Margaret’s hands.

“No, there’s no need. Is Erin still hold up at that little tavern near Loch Gavre?”

“Yes, ma’am. Ever since she, eh, ‘dispatched’ her husband, she’s been stuck running the place.”

“Contact her and ask her to drop in on old Alasdair Ross. I have a feeling he has a guest we’d be most interested in Erin meeting.”

The sweeper left the room without another word and Margaret lay down on her bed as a plan began to formulate in her mind. This might all work out very, very well indeed. Erin would be able to keep a close eye on Parker, and she just might be able to recover that damnable key. Meanwhile, Margaret would make a second “motherly” appearance, and this time, a genuine conversation was in order. Perhaps her concerned and obviously worried son would confide in his sweet, innocent mother?

Morning broke along Loch Gavre, but the newest resident of Kyle of Lochalsh did not see the sun rise. Rather, she was finally getting some much needed and, surprisingly peaceful sleep. After watching her eat a plateful of his Shepherd’s Pie, Alasdair had escorted her to her mother’s cottage. ‘Music of the Sea’…it was such a perfect name for the house. The sounds from outside coupled with the warm, soft light inside had created a cocoon of safety that Parker hadn’t felt since her childhood. Though she’d planned to explore the house from top to bottom, she’d lain down in the large, soft bed just to stretch out her back a moment. Now it was morning, and she was only just beginning to wake.

Once she’d finally reached full consciousness, Parker had set about to do the exploring she’d meant to do the night before. As she moved, she listened closely, wondering if the voices were planning to give her any guidance. For hours, she heard nothing. She opened boxes and found clothes and photos she knew had belonged to Catherine Parker, or rather Jamison, and she’d been known here. She explored every nook and cranny she could find, but nothing seemed to shed any light on why she might be here or what had happened to her over these last few months.

Then it came. The soft murmurs, her mother’s voice growing stronger and more insistent as it rose above the others. Parker surrendered to its pleas, moving cautiously toward an old bookcase in the music room of the cottage. The closer she got to the case, the stronger the voices grew, and Parker knew something here was a piece of the puzzle she needed to solve. Reaching up, she began to move her hand over the various books there, nearly stopping to pull a few down but, getting no stronger response from her inner sense, she passed them by. Then she found it. A large, leather-bound photo album. The moment she touched it, the voices grew into a clamor, and she pulled it down quickly, opening it seemingly of someone else’s will.

There it was. The photo of her mother and Margaret. An old copy of the image that had, presumably, led her to this foreign land and somehow brought her into contact with Jarod. As she looked at the photo, her fingers tracing first her mother’s face, then Margaret’s, some spark of recognition seemed to begin to grow inside of her mind. Just as she was about to finally wrap a firm mental hand around it, pain seized her, and Parker nearly doubled over as she dropped the photo album, grabbing her head. Instantly, she felt a wave of nausea, but knew she was powerless to do anything about it. She was paralyzed from the pain, and she could hear nothing but the sudden incessant rambling of the new, weak voice that seemed to so want her attention.

“Cameron.”

Pain kept Parker from looking up, but she knew the voice instantly. She struggled to reach out to him as the pain kept her in its grip.

“Ethan?”

In two steps Ethan was beside his sister, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she fought off the terrible agony she was feeling. He was more than grateful that he’d managed to fend off Liam MacDonald’s attempts to keep him for breakfast before heading off to find his sister. The closer he’d gotten, the more certain he was that this was where he would find her, and the moment he’d come over the hill and laid eyes on Loch Gavre, he’d known where to find her. Their mother had led the way.

“That name, who is it?”

Ethan looked down at his sister, an easing of her pain evident on her face. Neither of them realized yet that the reduction was caused only by her sudden distraction from thoughts of her lost memories to the name Ethan had mentioned.

“You mean Cameron?”

“Yes. Who is he, Ethan? Is he the one who’s trying to talk to me?”

Smiling, Ethan tightened his hold on his sister. Though she was his elder, he had a feeling she was going to need him to be very strong for her in the coming days.

“Yes, Parker, he is. He’s been trying to reach me, too. I didn’t know who he was for sure. Not until I walked in and saw you. That’s when I finally realized who he was, why he is so important to you.”

“I don’t even know anyone named Cameron.”

“Only,” Ethan replied, “because what you’ve been through has kept you from listening. Listen to him, Parker. And you’ll know who he is.”

Suddenly, for a reason she didn’t begin to understand, Parker felt very afraid. Still, now that she was no longer alone…well, that wasn’t fair, she hadn’t been alone until she’d run away…but now that she was with Ethan, she felt she could at least try and sort it out. And so, for the first time since she’d awakened in the hospital, Parker focused on the small, hard-to-fathom voice. And then, she knew. With a sharp intake of breath, Parker sat up and stared at her brother for confirmation. His eyes told her that she was correct.

“Oh, my God….oh, my God, Ethan. How? How could I…how could he be my son? How can I be pregnant and not even know how it happened?”

Jarod had stopped in town just long enough to gather up a few more supplies and leave a message with Connor. He quickly headed for the train station, wanting to check just one more time to see if anyone there had seen or heard anything about Parker. He headed toward Kirian, the redheaded clerk who’d promised to keep an eye out for anyone looking like Parker. Then he saw her. Oh, God…he’d been so worried about Parker, he’d forgotten who else might be here. As if he needed any more proof of how important Parker was to him….that he’d forgotten about a possible sighting of his mother in favor of worrying about her was proof of it.

Moving quickly, Jarod headed toward the blond and gray-haired woman. He reached out, touching her shoulder, this time not letting her get away. She turned, her eyes widening as she was first frightened, then elated at who stood before her.

“Jarod? Oh my….Jarod! Oh, my son!”

Margaret embraced him tightly, holding on to him like the lost little boy he still was in some part of his heart. Jarod returned the embrace, disbelieving that his arms were wrapped around the mother he’d been searching for all of these years.

“Mom. I can’t believe…what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for clues. I know that there’s information here in Scotland that can help us destroy the Centre and I’ve been trying to find it. Is that why you’re here, too?”

Jarod nodded, moving his mother to some nearby empty chairs before his legs gave out on him from a combination of exhaustion and shock.

“Yes, Parker and I…”

“Parker?”

“Catherine Parker’s daughter. We were working together, but then something happened and, Mom, I was on my way out of town, actually, to try and find her.”

“But I thought you were together.”

“We were, but Mom, she’s just confused right now and she doesn’t know how important she really is to me. And I have to find her.”

“You love her?”

Jarod nodded, “Yes, I do. But it’s more than that. She’s all alone, Mom, and she’s…Parker’s carrying our child, and she doesn’t know. I have to find her before something happens. Because I can’t shake this feeling that something dark is waiting for her, for us.”

Tears began to form in Jarod’s eyes, and Margaret, using her very best acting talents, reached out and gently touched his cheeks.

“Everything will be all right now, Jarod. I’m here. Your mother is here, and I’ll make sure that everything turns out just as it should.”

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 18
by Shannon



The sky was overcast and there was a brisk breeze blowing. It caught wisps of Parker's hair, as she sat in the lounge chair on the lower deck, staring out at the sea, lost in thought. The wind freshened, shifted a few degrees, and Ethan breathed deeply of the brisk air, as he stepped out on the upper deck watching his sister below. He allowed himself a sigh as he swept his gaze around him, his eyes then returning to his sister. Less than reassured at the sight, she appeared somewhat frail and not entirely well, her face pinched and white. Ethan found himself thinking that perhaps he should try and contact Jarod. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he was joined by the cottage's caretaker, who nodded somewhat distractedly. Alasdair Ross was a tall, slender man, with long grey hair pulled taunt in a ponytail, a wide grin under a pencil-thin mustache, and eyes of velvet night.

"There be a storm brewin'. I be going into town, cana git ye anythin.'"

"I've made a list," Ethan said softly, his eyes still locked on Parker, as he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, removing the crumpled sheet of white paper.

"Tis done. So ye be the bairn." Alasdair's statement startled Ethan, his features showing this. "Catie sent a letter, tellin' me what she be needin'. She made mention of a cradle. It be right odd, I was thinking but me wife, Lilias, she unnerstood. When Catie dinna arrive, she put evr'thing in the attic. Still be there, except Catie's letters, they be somewhere safe. Lilias fretted for Catie. She''ll be right shocked to see Catie's bairns when she returns. Funeral she had. Her sister, Violet, rest her soul. She was late gitten to Inverness, I be ailin,' she tended me first. I'll be 'eaden to town, then."

***

Parker watched as the gray sky, darkened, the clouds thickening, the crests showing whitecaps on the building waves. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, her eyelids closing, someone dragging her exhausted mind toward something. Drawing a deep breath, she sought a calm point and then an image appeared before her mind's eye: a solemn, dark-eyed child. Her son. With body and mind now bending to the will of her gift, she slowly found herself drifting.

"Remember. Past pain, truth."

"I can't. There's nothing but darkness."

"Look again." A flash of silvery light caught her attention. "There."

Parker turned her attention toward the light, but felt the shade of moving darkness permeate around her. Cold as winter. The darkness struck at the fragile silver lifeline. A blast of hatred hit Parker causing the images to spin dizzily around her, and they left her gasping for breath, heart pounding. The memories came flooding back to her, paralyzing her and pinning her to the stiff wood of the chair.

Reaching around she caught a handful of the tartan wool rug and pulled it around her, with it came the scent of roses, so unmistakable that it caused her to look sharply around, half-expecting to see.... Just for a moment the pain returned, the twisting ache of being alone. Memories stirring nonetheless, she crushed the armful of tartan to her face and merely breathed deeply of its perfume. Unbidden came the memory of a man quietly and astutely remarking," Apart we're incomplete, together we're one. You know that I'm right, even your dreams tell you that."

A faint smile lingered on her lips when, after a few seconds she folded the rug somewhat clumsily and laid it on the arm of the chair, letting her hand rest there as she reluctantly dragged herself back to the first memory-----the woman.

"Ethan!" Parker called out, as she pulled herself out of the chair, her legs a bit shaky.

Ethan's gaze shifted to the older man, his hand coming to rest on the gnarled one, his dark eyes narrowing.

***

"Beware of she who's named for the island across the sea. She's not to be trusted." Ethan said with a wary smile to Alasdair.

"Gifted wit' yer mother's gift, lad are ye? Be the lass?" Alasdair inclined his head toward Miss Parker.

"Yes," Ethan stated," Excuse me, but she needs me."

***

The first thing that Sydney noticed when he entered the Centre and opened his door to his Sim lab was that he wasn't alone.

"Broots?" he called out.

"I'm in here, Syd."

Sighing, Sydney locked the door behind him. He'd come in hoping to catch up on some reports. He needed to stay busy. He walked into the room that housed the latest computer equipment and found Broots busy downloading confidential files from the Centre's European satellite office.

"I found something....something big, Syd." Broots's fingers danced over the keyboard. "Lachlan Abbott's file."

"And?" Sydney stared over his shoulder at the screen. Broots had hacked his way into the mainframe and was reading the bio of Lachlan Abbott.

"This is like something out of a James Bond movie, Syd!" Sydney watched Broots shudder at the thought.

"Explain?" Sydney queried.

"Abbott was no ordinary photographer, Syd. He was British military and intelligence, first with the Special Air Service, then with MI6. But you want to know what's really spooky about this is when..." Broots whispered.

"When?"

"The date he died....April 15, 1970. Two days after ....."

"Catherine's supposed suicide," replied Sydney. " Where? And didn't the files you find say that he had a sister?"

"In Scotland, Caer Erract, in Inverness. Maggie Abbott. She went to school here in the States, the University of Maryland. Studied at the school of medicine, graduated with high honors and took a position with Incept, a fertility clinic attached to the University. She was there for about five years and then....she dropped off the face of the earth. Perhaps the Centre tried to recruit her, and that's why her name's in the Centre's mainframe."

"Possible," Sydney responded.

***

Parker watched as Ethan ambled quickly down the stairs, reaching out to help steady her on her feet.

"He showed you how to get past the pain, didn't he?" Ethan inquired as their eyes locked on each other.

"Yes, but I still don't remember everything, it's mostly bits and pieces. What did Alasdair want? "

"He's going into town." Ethan looked away from his sister, a look of worry crossing his brow.

"Ethan, is there something wrong?"

"I warned him. Someone's looking for you."

"Jarod?" Parker replied but Ethan shook his head.

"No, it's not Jarod. He's lost focus though. Someone else is trying to confuse him."

"Margaret?" Parker responded.

Ethan nodded as he tried to listen to Cameron's ramblings.

"Oh God, and I left him alone...what the hell was I thinking."

"You weren't, Parker."

"I need to go back, Ethan."

"Not yet. It's not time. You're not ready, but soon."

That bitch was going to pay for everything, Parker thought for about the hundredth time, seething with suppressed fury. The clouds had finally covered the sun and the first droplets of rain started to fall, causing Parker and Ethan to race up the stairs and into the cozy warmth of the cottage's parlor. Parker settled herself into the rocking chair that Ethan had found her in earlier, and her eyes fell upon the photo album she'd found earlier. Reaching for the blue leather book, she pulled it into her lap, the voices of earlier beginning to chatter.

***

"What is it?" Ethan took a seat on the floor in front of his sister, and watched as she opened it to the page with the familiar photograph.

"It's mother's, a photo album." she said, her hand resting palm-side down on the photo. " I was looking at this picture when you found me earlier." A small dull throbbing began inside of her head, and she had to bring her hand up to her forehead, rubbing gently.

The small voice that Ethan had become familiar with over the last few days was suddenly very clear. "Mirage," it repeated over and over. Ethan scrambled quickly to his feet and grabbed for the duffel bag that he had dropped in the hallway. He returned to his spot, the red leather album in hand, and opened. The page on the left had no photo on it, but one could clearly tell that a photo had been secured by the residue of tape that had held it in place. The picture on the right was very familiar to him. It was the picture that had held his attention for hours on the flight here.

***

"Ethan....Ethan," his sister's voice broke through his thoughts, "What? Where?" Parker watched as her brother removed a brown paper envelope that was tucked inside, the duffle. He handed it to her, the writing still smeared but faintly legible.

"Edna?" Parker whispered, "but the picture. She couldn't have sent it, she was already dead."

"Raines, " their voices chimed together in unison.

"I need to call Sydney, but I can't use any of the phones here," Parker said, as she pushed herself up out of the rocking chair.

"Use mine," Ethan whispered softly.

***

Because of the time difference between Scotland and the eastern seaboard of the United States, it was the middle of the night when Sydney answered his cell phone.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Miss Parker?" Sydney, who seldom slept more that five hours a night, helped himself to coffee.

"Whom were you expecting?"

After a moment silence, Sydney spoke again.

"How are you? Jarod..." he paused, briefly, waiting for the tirade" he informed us about the accident and your memory loss. He was worried."

Her response brought a smile to Sydney's face.

"There's still a few gaps that need to be filled in but I don't think it will be much longer before those memories are back as well. I have some wonderful help in that department, believe me."

***

Jarod continued to stare at the woman that sat next to him, committing her face to his memory. It had been so long, that he needed to take this moment. He was so absorbed in this process that he missed the look of panic that crossed Margaret's features but briefly. Her eyes widened as they looked at the figure that was alighting from the train. It wasn't possible, not now. It was the one thing that she hadn't even taken into consideration. Lilias Ross, Violet's sister. It was bad enough that Violet had interfered in her own way but having Lilias here could prove disastrous to her plans.

"Jarod, let's go across the street for a cup of tea, and perhaps I can help you in your search for Catherine's daughter." Margaret cast a quick glance at Lilias before returning her gaze to her son. Standing, she reached for Jarod's hand and pulled him up, hoping that his tall frame would block her small one from Lilias's view. Staying in front of her son, they made their way across the street.

Lilias stood still in the middle of the train station's platform, her entire body thrumming. Something had set her on edge. Allowing her grey eyes to survey her surroundings, she was about to attribute the feelings to that of losing her older sister, but it was then that she caught the sudden movement of the couple sitting over by the ticket office. Her gaze fell upon the older woman, recognition dawning. Lilias was about to approach them when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Aunt Lil," Marley said as she allowed herself to be embraced by the older woman and yet Lilias' eyes never left that of Margaret and Jarod. "Ye came."

"Lil' lambie, ye didna think I wouldn't, did ye?" Lilias smiled at her grandniece but inside the foreboding of earlier still lingering. "Come along wit'' me now, lass. I need to settle in."

Alasdair pulled the old truck into the parking spot in front of McGregor's. Alasdair was so busy reading his lists as he made his way to the door that he didn't hear the shrilly voice call after him until his hand was on the brass knob.

"Alasdair Ross, it be wonderful to see ye out and about. Last I heard, you be feelin' poorly."

Alasdair turned and looked into the dark eyes of Erin Gordon. Holding the door to the shop open, he allowed her to enter before him.

"I be right fine, Erin," Alasdair replied slowly, "Wee cold, be all. Lilias fixed me right up 'fore she left for Inverness."

"Aye, her sister passed. I be right sorry to 'ear that." Erin played with a stray strand of red hair that had caressed her cheek. "So ye be alone up there at Kinlock Inn wit' Lilias in Inverness. Perhaps ye would like company for dinner."

Alasdair's eyes narrowed. He knew the rumors that surrounded this woman regarding her husband. Those in the village and surrounding countryside believed that this red-haired woman was in some way responsible for Payne Gordon's death. Unfortunately the constabulary couldn't prove anything, other than the brake line had been tampered with, and nothing pointed to her. It was as these thoughts crossed his mind, that another entered his head as well. 'Beware of she, who's named for the island across the sea, she's not to be trusted.'

Disclaimer in Part 1



The Truth Hurts
Part 19
by imagine



It took a considerable amount of effort for Margaret to react appropriately to everything her son told her. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed she could not pull her thoughts away from Lilias' arrival in Inverness. Frustrated by the fact that she hadn't anticipated the old woman's appearance, Margaret was anxious to find a quiet place to consider her next move. Unfortunately, Jarod's voice droned on about his precious Miss Parker.

"I have to find her, Mom," he said, "If something happens . ."

"Jarod, it'll be all right," she said, slipping one hand to his shoulder and tenderly massaging the muscle, "You will have the life you were meant to have, surrounded by those who know you best."

Without warning, Jarod shifted in the booth and slid his arms around her, gently pulling his mother to his chest. Despite the warmth he wrapped her in, she felt his body trembling against hers. She supposed he may have been reacting to their unexpected reunion or the words she spoke in false consolation; but, more than likely, Jarod's body was being affected by his feeling of helplessness and isolation. Not knowing the whereabouts of Miss Parker - or their baby - was making Jarod feel isolated and more vulnerable than Margaret had imagined it would.

Soon, she told herself, he would remember feeling no other way.

In order to provide Jarod with the comfort and reassurance he craved, Margaret had to call upon her pretending skills, since her feelings for her son had never developed the way his had for her. As she slipped her arms around him, bracing herself for the emotional display, she was surprised to find that a small part of her was disappointed by her own insincerity.

Pulling him tighter, so she could peer over his shoulder, she whispered everything would work out while telling herself there were more important things to do than tend to the Pretender's emotions. She watched through the plate glass window as Lilias and Marley made their way to the parking lot with two large pieces of luggage. The older woman was planning an extended stay, which meant Margaret had to keep Jarod away from the Inn, and Lilias, as well as Miss Parker, if she had any hope of seeing her plans for him succeed.

Finally pulling from his grasp and taking both his hands in hers, she repeated her words of reassurance, allowing tears to well in her eyes, but refusing to let them trickle down her face. There was such a thing as overkill, she decided.

Jarod returned her smile weakly then lowered his eyes, his attention suddenly focused on the gold band decorating her left ring finger. Gently fingering the jewelry, his thoughts wandered slowly away from Parker.

"Your father gave me that ring almost forty-five years ago," she told him softly, "After I lost Emily, it was the only tangible proof I had that my family existed."

"The pattern matches his," Jarod commented, inspecting the beveled edges.

"That's right. We wanted . . ." she hesitated, her mouth open as she stared at him.

"I've seen him," Jarod explained with a grin, answering her unvoiced question.

"What? When?"

"The last time was a little less than a year ago, but we've been in contact. Emily and I set up . ."

"Emily?" she repeated, tightening the grip on his hand, "Emily and your father are together?"

"They were a month ago," he said, opting not to tell her about the boy, just yet, "They're taking care of each other until we can be a family again."

The dark woman who had taken their order returned with two cups of tea and a plate of cookies. Nodding his thanks as she placed the snack in front of them, Jarod turned back to his mother. Her eyes were not as wide as they had been, but her breathing had become slightly labored.

"Mom, are you all right?"

"Where are they?" she asked, hoping he was misreading her desperation for anticipation.

"I don't know," he admitted solemnly, watching her carefully, "For safety reasons, we make a point of not revealing our location too often, in case we're being monitored. Six months ago they were in San Francisco."

San Francisco. Six months ago. Not good.

"But you're sure they're ... all right?" she asked breathlessly.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling with the re-emerging grin, "They're
fine, and they'll be ecstatic when I tell them .."

"No," she interrupted, "Not now."

His brows crinkled as she pulled her hands away and wiped her eyes.

Margaret took a deep breath and released it slowly, chastising herself for speaking too quickly. He was getting suspicious. In the time it took to fill her lungs again, she had decided how to turn the situation to her advantage and faced Jarod. His face still emitting a dark curiosity, Margaret sighed, squeezed his hand again and averted her eyes to the cup in front of her long enough to plant a seed of concern in her son's mind.

"Mom . ."

"Jarod, listen to me very closely," her voice was a thick but barely whisper and she didn't raise her eyes to him, forcing the Pretender to lean forward, "I came to Inverness looking for something; but, had I known you were here, I would have stayed away."

"What? Why?"

"Because, by coming here, I've done the one thing I swore I would never do again. I've put you at risk. If you tell your father and sister we're together, they'll be in danger, too."

"No," he insisted, "We're perfectly safe here."

"For how long? An hour? A day?" she countered, gripping his hand
tighter as she manufactured the panic that seeped into her voice, "The
Centre has been tracking me for years, if they . ."

"They won't," he interrupted, anticipating her concerns, "They won't find you."

"They already have," she admitted apologetically, slowly meeting his gaze, "That's why I was at the train station."

"You were leaving."

She nodded.

"If I hadn't seen you . . Where were you going?"

"Originally, Edinburgh," she answered, "but, now that I've found you, it'll have to be further away."

"No."

She pushed herself from the table, "You need to stay here, in order to find Miss Parker and .. your child," she swallowed the words that referred to the baby as her grandchild before continuing, "Edinburgh isn't far enough away. They might still find out where you are, and I couldn't take it if something happened to you."

He rose quickly, taking her by the shoulders and blocking her path, "You can't leave. I won't be separated from you, too. Please, don't go. I can protect you."

As if she were considering his request, Margaret glanced around the tiny café, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Then, laying her hands on his forearms, she looked up at him and shook her head. He didn't resist when she slid from his grasp but he quickly took hold of one hand.

"Come with me to the Inn," he urged, retrieving a set of keys from his pocket, "You and I can . ."

"Jarod, it's too much of a risk," she said firmly, "Think of Miss Parker. Think of your child. Think what would happen to them if the Centre found out about them."

At the mention of Parker and the baby, Jarod lowered his eyes. She was right. Parker and the baby were in more danger than he had allowed himself to comprehend, but, the woman in front of him was his mother. How could he let her just walk away?

*********

Violet and her talents were so well known, she had been a sort of celebrity in Inverness for as long as Marley could remember. But, on several occasions, her grandmother had admitted, privately, that Lilias' gifts surpassed hers. Though Marley had never seen proof of that fact, she had known, even as a child, not to question Violet Penfield.

As a result, every summer between her sixth and seventeenth birthdays, Marley was sent to stay with Lil and Alasdair at Kinlock Inn. When she protested, her grandmother always insisted that she was to learn from the best, in order to avoid the same mistakes she had made, and Lilias was the best.

During those summers, Marley was taught about her family, their talents and her own gifts while being instructed in the art of operating an Inn. Her lessons had used photo albums, newspaper clippings and diaries as well as cook books, accounting journals and laundry supplies but Lilias and Alasdair had always seen to it that she be a child, too. Before long, she was almost as fond of the couple as she was of her grandmother.

Marley glanced at the older woman, "Aunt Lil?"

Shaking herself from her reverie, the woman faced her grandniece and forced a smile, "'Tis all right, Lass, I'm jest takin' in the scenery."

Marley turned her attention back to the winding road. In the comfortable quiet, she recalled the way her grandmother's face softened whenever she spoke of her younger sister and their childhood. At Kinlock, Lil had reacted the same way when speaking of Violet. It had made Marley long for the sister, or brother, she would never have.

"I'm glad ye came."

Lilias patted the younger woman's hand, "I jest wish it had been sooner, but Alasdair had taken ill. I couldn't leave him."

"It's all right, Aunt Lil," she said softly, "Grannie understood."

"Aye," the woman answered with a sigh, staring out the window, "she always did."

There was a long pause as Lilias tried to shake the feeling of dread that had washed over her at the station. For the last ten minutes, she had been blaming her anxiousness on the loss of her sister; but, Lilias knew something else was wrong. Opening the window, she leaned out and stared at the sky. When she pulled her head back in, she sighed, "It's colder than it ought to be. The shadows are refusin' to let the warmth through."

Marley nodded, but was unsure of a response.

*********

Thunder rolled angrily in the darkness and Margaret had to bite back the smile of satisfaction that threatened to betray her as lightening flashed in the sky. She knew her son well enough to know that the mere threat she might leave him, again, would make him less guarded and more accomodating. If she could isolate him somewhere, keep him off balance until such time she decided he should be reprogrammed and returned to his rightful place, her power over Mr. Parker would increase exponentially. After all, Jarod was the key to it all.

"Let me protect you," he urged. Still holding the key ring, he slipped his fingers under her chin and raised her eyes to his, "Please, let me take you to the Inn tonight. You'll be safe . ."

"Jarod, the Inn . . your room . . would not be safe for either of us, if they saw me. Please, understand, I have to go. The train . ."

"Give me one night," he interrupted, refusing to acknowledge the desperation in his voice, "I'll take you anywhere you want. I promise. Just let me spend one night with my mother."

Margaret's attention was drawn to his right hand as the silver ring glistened in response to the lightening outside. Three keys dangled from the metal. The first, and largest, was obviously his car key; the second, his room key; and the third . .

*********

Alasdair lowered the bags to the wooden table and sighed. He had never known Erin Gordon to be so talkative and had done his best to avoid a lengthy dialogue, but now felt as if he had failed miserably.

Erin had been persistent. Offering her condolences toward Violet's death, she went on to tell him how badly she felt for Lilias, telling him she would do whatever she could to make the loss easier. Afterall, she reminded him, she had just lost her beloved Payne, and knew what Lil was feeling. When he hesitated in responding, she accused him of believing the rumors that were being spread about her.

He managed to be vague in his response, but, the truth was, the shadow of suspicion that hung over Erin was only part of the reason he wanted to be free of her company. His young guest's warning about one `named for the island across the sea', was still ringing in his ears.

The only thing he had done right was to assure her he didn't need company for the evening. Telling the woman that he was still a bit run down from his bout with the cold, he stated that his plans included nothing but a light dinner, a book and a good night's rest. Luckily, she had seemed to accept his gentle rejection.

"You're back."

He glanced at the young man entering the kitchen, then turned back to the table, "Aye, the shop was nearly empty. Ye didn't have to leave the lass to get yer supplies," he added, when Ethan retrieved one of the items from the bag, "I would `ave brought them to ye."

Ethan smiled, "I know, but my sister is on a telephone call and I felt she needed some privacy. Besides, I thought I might be able to help."

"No need," Alasdair promised, "it's best ye git back to your sister."

"He's already helped his sister immensely," Parker said, greeting the two men with a grin.

"Ye look tired, Lass," Alasdair commented, "Dinna ye rest at all?"

"Don't worry," she told him, patting his hand, "I'm feeling much better."

"Was Sydney able to tell you anything?" Ethan asked.

"Plenty," she answered as someone knocked on the front door.

Excusing himself, Alasdair shuffled through the kitchen and living room toward the entrance. He was no more than two steps away when the door opened inward, revealing the tall, red haired woman, dangling a shopping bag at her side.

"Erin Gordon," he chided, "din ye `ave better manners than to let yerself in to someone else's home? I told ye I wanted to be alone tonight."

She looked past him, "The more I thought about ye, up here by yer lonesome, the more I began to worry," she lifted the bag, "I brought ye some supper."

"Well, ye can take it home wit' ye," he admonished harshly, moving in front of her.

Though he was at least twenty years her senior, he towered over the woman with the determination of a much younger man. His gray eyes sparkling with anger at the intrusion and his arms crossed in front of him, he refused her admittance to his home.

"Git!" he bellowed, motioning toward the door, "I'm in no mood to be puttin' up with the likes of you."

Erin looked up at him, offering a patronizing grin as she tried to push past him. Her resolve began to fade, however, when the man blocked both her path and view into the rest of the house. Her task wasn't going to be as easy as she had thought.

"Fine," she huffed, "I'll leave. But, remember this, I was offerin' the hand of friendship and ye turned me away."

"I'll do more than that, Lass, if ye dinna leave my home by the count of three," he warned, his words rolling off his tongue as she moved on to the porch.

Without another word, Alasdair slammed the door, immediately engaging the deadbolt. He could feel his blood percolating to his face, fueling his anger and concern. Erin had always been the type to push herself on someone, but, never had she done so with him.

Taking a breath, he returned to the kitchen. The back door was open and the room was empty. Shaking his head, he stepped on to the porch and gazed around the property for a sign of Catie's children and wishing Lilias was home. She would know how to help them.

*********

Jarod, not Miss Parker, had Catherine's key. Startled by the revelation, Margaret gazed at it a little longer than she should have before looking away. Glancing out the window behind him, she hoped her face hadn't betrayed her sudden excitement at the realization Miss Parker was no longer a threat. Though the young woman was still missing, Margaret was confident she would be recapatured soon. She could be dealt with accordingly until the child was born without the fear that the key would fall into the wrong hands. Soon, Margaret would have everything she needed.

Abruptly, her eyes widened and she stepped back, bringing her hand to her mouth as a soft cry escaped her throat.

"Mom, what's wrong?" he asked as she tugged on his arm, stopping him from looking out the window.

"The train. They're searching the train," she said breathlessly, meeting his gaze, "They've found me. You have to get out of here, Jarod. Now."

"Are you sure?" he glanced at the station, his eyes searching the travelers lined up beneath the canopy, "Maybe . ."

"It's them," she hissed, grabbing his hand and pushing him toward the back door, "You have to leave before they come in here."

"No," he said, "Don't ask me to leave you. I can't," he insisted, refusing to release her hand, "My car is about half a block away. I'll take you somewhere safe."

"Jarod, I can't .. won't .. go to your room. It's not safe for you or . ."

"Fine, we won't go there," he said, taking her hand, "Trust me, it'll be all right."

"Baby, listen to me," she urged, "there is nowhere in Inverness that would be safe, as long as we're together. Nowhere."

"Mom, please, I promise I know a safe place," he spoke quickly, his hand tightening around hers, "Parker and I found it about a month ago and it became very special to us. No one knows about it, I swear. You have to believe me when I tell you you'll be safe."

Glancing once more out the window at the imaginary sweepers, Margaret nodded hesitantly before letting Jarod guide her through the cafe, toward the back door. Having had Jarod and his beloved under surveillance for months, she knew exactly where he was taking her and the location was perfect for what she had in mind for him. Once she contacted them, her people could be there in a few hours, and until then, Jarod would be all hers.

*********

By the time they got back to the cottage, a light rain had begun again. Ethan unlocked the door then stood back and allowed her to enter the room. Her face had paled slightly during the trip back from the main house, and she had grown suddenly quiet. He had wanted to ask her what she'd learned from Sydney, but, there hadn't been time. Now, he decided his questions could wait until after his sister had gotten some solid sleep.

"Cameron," she whispered, lowering herself into a nearby chair, "I don't understand."

Ethan knelt beside her, draping his arm around her shoulders, "You will."

"What if it's too late? What if, by the time I remember what happened, I've lost him?"

"No one is going to take your son," he answered.

"What about Jarod? What if that witch . .?" she took a breath and leaned back, letting her head dangle over the back of the chair, "If I go back now, without knowing everything that happened to me, I'll endanger my son; if I don't, I endanger his father."

"You remember that Jarod is Cameron's father?"

She sighed and shook her head, "He told me. He said his father was looking for me, but that he was blind to the danger. Who else could it be?"

*********

Marley pushed open the heavy door and motioned for her Great Aunt to step into the lobby of the Inn. Waiting until the older woman had complied, she slid the two large suitcases over the threshold and against the wall before shrugging off her jacket and calling out to announce their arrival.

Geile was the first to appear, her arms filled with her sleeping grandson. As he shifted in her arms, her eyes dropped from Marley to the luggage, questioningly. The younger woman smiled and pointed toward the adjoining room, where Lilias stood warming herself at the stone fireplace.

"Aunt Lil is here," she whispered.

"Lilias?" she asked, as if her eyes were betraying her, "I thought . ."

"Why don't you let me take Ian upstairs while you say hello?" she grinned.

Swallowing hard, the older woman nodded, smoothly transferring the child to Marley's arms. Nervously straightening her skirt before entering the room, she slipped her hand into the pocket and fingered the letter she'd found in Miss Parker's room.

Disclaimer in Part 1




The Truth Hurts
Part 20
by Michele and Trish..



All evening long, Geilie had been moody, distracted, and fearful. One thought kept pounding in her head.....she needed to unburden herself. Geilie wanted to say something but chnaged her mind and remained silent. Lilas gave a faint smile. A kind smile, sweet and gentle, soothing really.

"I ken feel the pain an fear in ye, Gilly," Lilias said, so intent was Geilie on her thoughts, that she hadn't noticed Lilas's hand around her shoulders, pulling her close. She felt Geilie tremble a little and then allowed her head to briefly rest on her shoulder.

"I canna believe it be happ'in again, Missus Ross," Geilie sighed. Lilias took Geile's head in her hands, looking her in the eye.

"Nay, ye need not be formal wi' me, Gilly. Come sit. There be much we need to talk of. Of things ye know."

Lilias settled on the sofa. She was so like Violet except for her eyes. They were so deep and so old that looking into them made it hard to imagine anything about her had ever been young. Geilie settle next to her.

" Ye miss her, aye," there was a saddness in the words. Geilie thought before she answered. It was only days ago and yet it seemed like eons. Yet it wasn't Voilet's passing that stung deep in her heart, it was the knowledge that history was about to repeat itself in the small town of Inverness.

" I'll recover but some wounds to the heart are much to deep," Geile whispered.

Lilias nodded gravely. " Fool's hope, I fear."

When Geile started to object, Lilias shook her head. "Oh, yes. Gifted yes, omipotnent nay. The truth ..." Lilias looked away, almost as if she were gazing into another world. Lilias brushed a strand of her auburn hair away from her face before focusing on Geilie. Sensing a deep sorrow, she took hold of the older woman's hand.

" I dinna tell him ...hid the truth from the lad." Geilie's eyes misted over with tears.

"Show me." Geilie reached her hand into her pocket and slowly withdrew the letter that she had found on the lass' pillow. She clutched it tightly, her hand shaking as she placed it hurriedly into the outstretched hand of Lilias.

***

Parker was gazing out the window waiting for lunch when her eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and she fell asleep.

Her first dream was simple and sweet.

It was the second half that made her wake up screaming.

The dream had started simply enough. She had never dreamed so wonderfully before. She was so happy, free from pain and sadness. She sat in an familiar garden surrounded by fragrant rose bushes. She was sitting cross-legged on sweet, cool grass in the middle of the gardens, wearing nothing but a white cotten shift, and at her breast suckled a newborn baby. Parker's lips curved in a smile and she gently stroked the soft dark down of the baby's head. Tiny fingers, perfectly formed, kneaded at her. Parker felt infinitely fortunate to be here in this place and with this child, and she cuddled the baby as close as she dared, crooning as he continued to nurse. A shadow fell across her lap and Parker looked up, startled at this intrusion. She tried to stand but to her horror couldn't; her eyes locked on the figure present. The enemy...

"He belongs to me," the figure whispered."Both of them."

"No, they don't!" Parker cried. "They don't!"

"Yes, Miss Parker." The eyes of her enemy were blazing with hatred. Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and seductive. "There's no point in fighting me, child. Blood calls to blood. And they are of my blood. Give him to me!" Her hands reached out for the infant.

"No!" cried Parker. She screamed---a real scream so loud that she woke herself. She sat up, staring into the darkeness that had fallen, even though awake, she could sense the evil. Although trembling with horror, she heard a sound---tiny indistinct, echoey. The sound came again---- 'Never'.

Seconds later, Alasdair and Ethan came running to her, both kneeling beside her to ask what had happened, if she was all right.

She flung her arms around Ethan's neck and clung to him, seething with fury. "She's responsible for all this."

"So you now know, the truth," Ethan murmured.

"The truth, oh god, the truth is something I could never have fathomed. I need to get him away from her, Ethan. She's not going to win, I won't let Margaret Abbott succeed, " she said to her brother, struggling with the distrubing thoughts that shadowed her memory.

Alasdair's eyes darkened at the mention of the name, and his fingers clenched the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles started to turn white. " If Maggie Abbott be back, then Lilias needs to know," murmured Alasdair, angrily " I best called her."

***

Lilias settled the letter on her lap, her eyes glancing at Geilie one last time, before her voice filled the small room:

Lass,
If ye be readin this letter, then ye know that evil 'as returned to ye and your lad, for me it began many many years ago when I'd ben wandering up in the hills near the Caer. I been out huntin', poachin' really. When sudden, I heard footsteps and voices, angry voices above me. I froze more from fear at being caught, for this time would surely have sent me to the constable's cell. Moving quietly, with a stealth I not known, I slipped into the bushes at the side of the Caer. It was not long when a man and woman appeared on the Caer's walkway. In the moonlight, I could make out their faces. I recognized the man, he'd come to our small town to take photographs of Caer Erract, Lachlan Abbott. The woman, she was unknown to me at the time. Yet known to the man. The chill I felt when I looked at her came from somewhere deep within, a terror that I could not explain.

Their argument was lost to the winds and I thought ended when there came the god awful sound. I will ne'ver forget that sound. The silent scream that emanted from his mouth, but it was the sickening thud that followed when he hit the rocks below that haunts me. I caught a glimpse of the woman standing above, looking down o'er the parapet, a twisted perverse smile on her features before she turned away, calling for someone named Nigel. I scrambled as quick as I could o'vr the rocks, and found the poor man. He lay twisted and broken but still breathing when his hand clutched at my jacket. His last words before he turned his head and died where-' my own blood is the devil incarnate'. I grabbed my bow as well as the man's camera, unbeknowst to me and headed for home. It wasn't till I reached me cottage that I realized that I had his camera. She found me. I ripped me jackt and it was that which led her to me. I lied and said I dinna know what she be talking about. Her laugh filled the cottage and her promise to see me hang for murder hung heavy in the air.

Murder, blackmail as well as harm to loved ones roll off this Sassenach's tongue. They are nay threats. There be one at the inn that does the Sassenach's dirty work as well, beware of who ye trust, lass. He means not to betray ye but his grandson's life hangs in the balance.

Fergus Campbell

Silence hung in the room momentarily only to be interrupted by the urgent voice of Marley.

"Aunt Lil, Uncle Alasdair be on the phone. Ye can take it in the office." Marley looked from her Aunt to the woman seated on the couch next to her and noticed that Geilie's cheeks were stained with tears. "What's wrong?"

"Geilie's had a wee bit of an upset," Lilias said softly, then exited the room.

The woman's hands betrayed her restlessness, stroking the engraved golden band with a thumb and fiddling with it occasionaly. The hands told the story---and the jaws, clenching and unclenching. The crackle of the fire and the drum of rain beyond the windows, soothing under most circumstances, did nothing to ease the visible tension in the room.

Nor was Margaret its sole contributor, her companion revealed his nervousness but drumming his fingers against his leg. Margaret placed a hand on his in reassurance, but the drumming of the fingers would only pause, to resume almost immediately when she withdrew .

"Just for tonight, please," he murmured.

The minutes passed. Only the crackle of the fire and Jarod's shallow breathing intruded on the steady lull of the rain. Margaret cast one last glance over her son's shoulder, before shuddering visible, for effect. Then shook her head.

"You're sure this place is safe," she whispered.

"Yes, St. Gilleabart's. It's mostly ruins but ...." he started to say but she place a finger on his lips. Margaret sighed and moved her head, lips parting slightly and tongue moistening long-dry tongue. A small smile, which disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Yes, Jarod, she thought, St. Gilleabart's will do nicely.

Disclaimer in Part one. (I drafted a bit of help to try and finish this story off. Hopefully, a few more parts, and the tale will be complete).




The Truth Hurts
Part 21
by Paula (mostly) and Niceole (a bit)



Lilias walked quickly to the office, her mind still occupied with Fergus Campbell's note. She knew exactly whom Fergus meant by the Sassenach, the Englishman, or in this case the Englishwoman, Maggie Abbott. She was back in Inverness and up to the same treachery she had been accused of thirty years ago and suspected of in more recent times. Lilias had felt her even before she saw her, a connection too deep to be denied.

She pushed thoughts of Maggie and their past from her mind, concerned for her husband. He had been quite ill only a few days ago and she feared he had relapsed. She put the receiver to her ear.

"Alasdair? What's wrong, me luv?"

Alasdair smiled on the other end of the line, "Must somthin' be wrong now for me t' be callin' me lovely wife?"

"Ye knows I worry about ye." Lilias' gray eyes sparkled.

"It's not me that needs worry'n about. Tis you and a lass I believe is yer grandniece."

"Catie's girl? 'Ave ye seen her?"

"Aye, no five minutes ago. She be stayin' at Ceol Na Mara... with the lad Catie hoped fer in her last letter."

"Both?" Ah, Catie had led them to her and she was not there to greet them. But she was also needed here. "I'll be wantin' t' talk to her, me luv, but there be things of darkness here tonight."

"Maggie Abbott?"

"Alasdair Ross," in mock surprise, "'ave ye gained the gift after all these years?"

"Must'a rubbed off from spending too much time with them witchy Jamison women." He laughed shortly. "Ye ken what she is, Lil, ye needs to watch fer her."

"I saw her and I ha' no doubt she saw me. Has she t' do with Catie's bairns?"

"Aye, she chased the lass from Inverness and she be after her young man. He may be Maggie's son, so he may be a danger too."

"Maggie had a young man with her that did na look like one a her minions. "

"Should I tell the lass?"

No, Alasdair," Lilias felt a chill run up her back, "I'll talk to her. I need t' think a bit on it first. Bring the lass up t' the house; I'll call back in a wee bit. Take a care."

"Be cannie, me luv."


Lilias hung up the receiver and sat quietly in the office. Catherine's voice had come to her weeks ago asking Lilias to help her children. She already knew there were two with the gift; she had heard the one, confused and frightened, for years. Recently she had heard a second trying to find her path. At the time Lilias had not known where they were. Now they were here, where they were meant to be.

But Maggie Abbott was also here, bringing wickedness and threatening yet another child. Ian had to be hidden from her, distanced as far away and as soon as possible. Where better than Kyle of Lochlash? Although Maggie might have spies there, she would never come herself. Ian would be safe and Lilias could meet Catie's son, a young man she had longed to help.

Her thoughts taking a different path, Lilias went to find Geilie, knowing she would be in the kitchen. Where else but baking or cleaning? Geilie had set a pot of tea on the table to brew. Marley was keeping her silent company by tidying up a bit.

Lilias did not mince words; there were things to be done. "Marley, I need ye t' repack me bags. I be goin' home in the morn."

"Uncle Alasdair?" Marley asked concerned.

"Nae, he be fine. We 'ave a bit o company an' they need me home."

"I'll do it right quick," Marley said and started from the room.

As though it was a second thought, Lilias added, "While yere at it, pack a bag for Ian if ye would. It'll do him good t' bide a wee time with me."

Marley looked questioningly at Geilie.

Geilie did not move for a moment then said, "If ye think it best, Missus."

"Aye, I do. Go now, Marley. Gilly and I have t' talk."

Marley felt tension in the room but did as she was asked. Lilias sat at the table and Geilie poured her a cup of tea. Geilie also sat.

Lilias inhaled the aroma of the Earl Grey before she spoke, "I dinna want t' take the lad from ye, Gilly, but he must be kept from her and I canna do that here."

"Aye, I know."

"And ye must confront Donal."

"Ye think it's him?"

"Ye know it was him, Gilly, in yer heart. Ye knew something was wrong afore the note. Ye jus denied it t' yerself."

Geilie stared at the other woman.

"Tis no' me gift, Gilly. Tis the way of all women t' see a thing in their man and put it back, hidden till they have the courage t' look at it straight. Ye must tell him ye know. It will free him from her."

"Who?"

"Maggie Abbott. Ye knew that, too."

Geilie acknowledged that truth to herself. "If it be her, yer in some danger, too."

"She hates me because she fears me; I know what she is. So did Violet. Catie was the only one who ner saw it. Now the witch wants t' corrupt Catie's girl. She has tried fer years and no' succeeded, but still she tries."

"The lass was here."

"And the Englishwoman chased her away but she ran t' safety. She be at Ceol Na Mara and that be where Ian will bide."

Geilie nodded, more to herself than Lilias. She was silent as they sipped their tea. Before the cups were empty she had come to a decision. "Yer need t' get a bit of rest, Missus. I'll be down at the shed, speaking t' me husband."

"I'll rest, Gilly, after I talk t' Catie's lass. And remember, girl, what Donal's done he's done t' protect ye."

Geilie nodded and walked out the back door. Lilias returned to the office.



Jarod could not seem to stop drumming his fingers or shifting his feet. The movements reflected his desire to search for Parker or scour the Caer for clues, rather than sit in St. Gilleabart's rectory. He turned to look at his mother. She placidly watched rain hit the window, only her hands revealed unease. She must have sensed his gaze because she turned and forced a smile onto her face. Jarod felt intense guilt at that smile. He had kept her here, possibly endangering her by asking her to stay with him. After finally finding her he did not want to give her up. He had so many questions to ask and things to tell her. He needed her even if it was only for this one night.

The rain picked up intensity. The wind whipped water against the window and a wicked draft caused the fire to sputter and dance. Margaret's head came up. She glanced about the room as though she expected someone to walk in.

"It's just the wind, Mom. I'm sorry about the draft but, St. Gilleabart's is a bit tumbled down. It's a great old church... kirk, full of passages. No one can get in and we have lots of escape routes." Jarod jumped to his feet, glad for an excuse to move. "I'll make sure the exits are secure."

"I'm sure it's fine, Jarod," she paused, "but if it makes you feel better..."

Jarod took his mother's hand in his. A hint of anxiety crossed his features as he gazed into her eyes, "You won't try to leave while I'm gone. Will you?"

Margaret put her free hand over his, "Of course not, son. I've waited a lifetime for us to be together."

Jarod smiled gratefully and went out a side door.

Margaret moved to a lesser room behind the hearth. It had a small fireplace that shared a chimney with the adjacent room. Jarod had started a fire in there so that she could sleep comfortably. There was a bed set against the wall in a corner of the room not visible through the window, the bed where, quite likely, her grandchild was conceived.

Jarod's revelation that Parker was expecting his child had been something of a shock but Margaret hid it expertly and put contemplation aside until now. The child was a slight complication. The planned pairing should have taken place after Parker's loyalty was assured. But this child was special, a child whose place Raines had tried to usurp with the conception of Ethan, another failed genetics experiment. Raines should have kept to the plan. The culmination of her plan lay in Parker's womb and Margaret had no intention of endangering it. If necessary the infant could be used to control Parker. Even if Parker proved to be too much like Catherine, this child would ensure The Centre endured...with or without its parents.

But that was a contingency plan. At the moment Parker was retrievable and Jarod was close by. Margaret knew she could manage him a bit longer. All she needed was to get him somewhere he could be contained, and then she could control him permanently.

Margaret moved closer to the wall, out of sightline of the window. She pulled out her cellular phone and called Penrith.

The phone was answered on the third ring, "Abbott Hall."

"Nigel, gather up a sweeper team. I want them at Caer Erract and the place sealed by 10AM. I'm bringing someone in at and if he gets out, I don't care whose fault it was, they're all dead. Make that's very clear to them."

"Yes, Madam. Will there be anything else?"

"Have there been any more inquiries about Lachlan?"

"No, Madam, no unexpected visitors or calls."

"Good. I'll be returning to Abbott Hall briefly before I leave for the States. Make arrangements. That's all for now."

"Very good, Miss Abbott."

Margaret cut the connection. Yes, very good. Once Jarod was captured she would wipe his memory of the past few months. What she did with him after that depended on Miss Parker. If Mr. Parker found some way to convince Parker that Inverness was just another of Jarod's games she might even allow them to find each other again.

Erin Gordon was an irritation. She had not called to update Margaret on happenings at Kyle of Lochlash. That would have to wait until morning because a call now would belie Jarod's belief of her dependence on him. Margaret turned off the cell phone and returned to the great room. Additional difficulties concerned her but others had better deal with them. Ethan's recapture and keeping Lyle out of the loop were Mr. Parker's problems. Control of Sydney was Raines duty, one he performed according to his own agendas. That would be addressed once she was in control. For now, she wanted to be nervously pacing the floor when Jarod returned.







Sydney had always found silence within the Centre to be an ominous thing. While it could sometimes be a comfort when one was at home or sitting in a park, inside the monolith that had stolen so many lives, silence was generally the warning that someone somewhere within it was plotting a new evil plan. This time, Sydney knew the silence must have something to do with Jarod and Parker. He knew this because Mr. Parker was "unavailable" and because Lyle and Mr. Cox had both been sent on assignments far away from the Centre, which meant that Mr. Parker or the Triumvirate did not want them butting their noses into whatever it was that was going on. And Raines....no one seemed to know where he was keeping himself these days, and that made Sydney more nervous than anything.

"Syd, I think I found something."

The doctor looked up to see Broots' anxious face in front of him. He carried a stack of papers that he'd obviously picked up in a hurry, a fact made clear by the disarray of the pages.

"I take it from your expression that it is not good news."

The technician answered by dropping into the chair in front of Sydney's desk as he let out a huge sigh.

"You'd think after all these years, what I find out about people connected to this place would stop shocking me, but it never does."

Sydney nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"I know what you mean, my friend."

Accepting the sympathy, Broots leaned forward, clearing his throat as he placed the papers in front of Sydney.

"I had hit a dead end on Lachlan Abbott or his sister in the regular mainframe, so I broke into Raines' files. There was nothing there, either. But then I got an idea and, well, I...I, um, I looked in Mr. Parker's private records..."

Sydney couldn't help but smile at that. Miss Parker would be proud.

"I found a reference there to an FBI file," Broots continued, "so I decided to trace that."

"Is that what you've got here?" Sydney asked, indicating the stack of papers.

"Yeah. The Bureau has a file on him because someone realized that he kept showing up in different kidnapping cases. He claimed he was investigating the cases, there doing a photo essay on kidnappings, but the agent who wrote the file didn't believe him."

"Why not?"

"Because there were too many coincidences. Every time Abbott showed up, a child had recently disappeared. The agent apparently talked to him and found that Abbott knew details about the kidnappings that they hadn't revealed to the public."

"Broots, are you saying this man was a kidnapper? That he might have had something to do with Jarod's kidnapping?"

"I cross-referenced the dates of the kidnappings with the intake records here at the Centre. There was a new child admitted within 48 hours of every date, Sydney."

"So Abbott was stealing children for the Centre?"

"That's what it looks like. I don't know what it has to do with his murder or with Abbott Hall. Do you think we should say something to Jarod or Miss Parker?"

"What about the M16 files? Were you able to open them?"

"Apparently England's government file protections are harder to crack than the FBI's, but I'm still working on it. I have two different decoding programs running, and hopefully one of them will find us a window to climb through."

"Then let's try to find out more before we alert Miss Parker or Jarod, Broots. Those two have plenty to worry about without us adding to it until we're sure of what we've got."

Broots nodded and stood.

"I'll see what else I can get," and with that he exited the room.





Jarod circled the ruins of the church and connected rectory. He knew every exit and how they were hidden. All were secure. The rain had stopped just as he exited the kirk, but the wind continued to drive mist and clouds through the chilled air. Jarod looked up at the remains of the church tower, watching clouds scud across the moon. They seemed to intensify his need for movement. He finished checking the grounds then toured the interior of St. Gilleabart's. When he was completely satisfied and could think of no other corners to inspect he returned to the rectory hall.

Margaret spun toward the door as Jarod opened it, fear on her face. "Jarod, you were gone so long," she cried as she rushed to embrace him, "I was afraid someone had found us."

"I'm sorry, Mom," he replied, returning her embrace. "It really wasn't that long. No one knows we're here. We're safe."

"No one? You're sure?" She smiled when he nodded then she pulled away from him, "Oh, Baby, you're dripping. You must be soaked to the skin. Lets get those clothes off you and get you some tea."

Margaret ignored Jarod's protests, fussing him out of his wet clothes and into a blanket. Jarod, used to taking care of himself, was embarrassed and pleased by the attention. Gratitude was plain in his eyes when Margaret put a cup of tea in his hands and settled herself next to him. She patted his forearm, "There, that's better," with false feeling, "your clothes will be dry by morning."

Jarod nodded and they lapsed into silence. Margaret decided it was time to set the seeds of her plan into Jarod's mind. "Baby, I'm worried. Tomorrow we need to separate, put as must distance between us as possible. This isn't safe for you."

Jarod saddened, "Mom, you've had too much worry all these years. Let me take care of things."

"I just wish I could have done what I came here for."

That sparked Jarod's interest, "What is it? I can help."

"I found information that a man named Lachlan Abbott was involved in kidnapping children and a hint that there's evidence at the Caer. But the sweepers were too close for me to go there."

"Something happened to Parker at the Caer. I believe there are answers there."

"It could be a trap."

"I've avoided plenty of them and I've also been investigating Abbott. I want to go to the Caer."

"It's not safe. We should just leave town,"

"We'll go to the Caer first thing in the morning, we'll see where we should go after that." Jarod took his mother's hand firmly in his own.

"Whatever you think, Son. Just be careful." Margaret beamed at him. So it had been Jarod who inquired about Lachlan and he was going to walk right into her castle. Step into my parlor said the spider. Margaret carefully extricated her hand from Jarod's while she smiled to herself.





Alasdair Ross answered the phone in his kitchen on the first ring. He was relieved to hear Lilias' voice and immediately handed the phone to Miss Parker.

Lilias sent all the love she could with her voice, "Hello, lassie, I been waitin' t' meet ye since ye were wee little. Yer mother spoke of ye and sent pictures. She loved ye wi' all her heart. And we all loved her. Especially her Auntie Violet."

There was a pause on the Parker's end of the conversation, she was afraid to ask. "Aunt?"

"Ye dinna know, child? Violet and me be Jamisons, like yer mother and her da before her."

"You're a Jamison? My ah...great-aunt? My family?"

"Aye, lambie, ye have plenty o' family here. Ye and yer brother."

Light dawned, "Violet's gift, it was like my mother's."

"The gift takes many forms. Violet and meself were different from each other. Yer mother's gift was strong but yer grandfather had not much at all. We dinna understand how it comes t' us, but one generation teaches the next t' use it. Catie's gift brought her t' us, even though she had nae idea who we were. Violet an' meself taught her. She needed us so she was drawn here, just as ye and yer brother were."

Parker was speechless for a moment.

Lilias continued, "And Maggie Abbott followed ye both."

"You know Margaret Abbott?"

"Would I did not. I hear she be after ye. What has she t' do with yer man?"

"She's his mother and she's trying to manipulate us, possibly destroy us."

"She be the mistress o' that. I saw her, ye know, at the train station today."

"Was she alone?" Parker feared she knew the answer.

"Nay, there was..." Lilias broke off and listened to something from another place. "Annsachd?" she breathed softly, "does he call ye Annsachd?"

"Yes. How did you..?"

Lilias interrupted her, speaking rapidly, "The spider has him in her web. I feel it closing and he be walking into it. Ye must go t' him. Ye must get him away from her."

Parker felt the urgency, "Can you see where they are?"

"Nae clear. But 'tis someplace special t' him and ye. If ye listen yer heart will take ye there."

"Ethan...my brother and I can leave tonight."

"This be fer ye t' do alone, lambie. Ethan must stay at Ceol Na Mara. I'll be there tomorrow and I may need him. I know he needs t' learn things I know. We'll be there if ye need us. And yer mother says t' be easy about yer wee one."

"You know about Cameron?"

"He's told ye his name? Ah, then he be ahead o' himself."

"He helped me remember what Margaret had done to me, and what Jarod meant to me."

"He worked hard when it was needed. He'll be resting fer a bit now, till his time t' come int' the world. Not t' worry, lass. Ye will feel him always, as he feels ye and, if needs be, his wee voice will come t' ye."

"I want to protect him, A...aunt Lilias. And I will protect his father."

"I know ye will, lassie, yer mother tells me so."

Lilias and Parker said their farewells. Lilias realized that she was exhausted. Death and life took a lot out of an old woman, she mused as she took herself to bed.




Parker hung up the phone and sat for an amazed moment with her hand still on the receiver. She turned to Alasdair, "It seems that you're my uncle ... and I have aunts." Her voice acquired a touch of plaintive irritation, "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Lassie, if Violet thought ye should know she surely would have told ye. Like as not she thought ye had too much on yer plate t' take in the likes of us."

Parker mumbled more to herself than Alasdair; "She may have been right," then said aloud, "I don't exactly know what to feel or say."

"There's nae need t' say anything. And ye needn't worry about how t' feel. Once yer Aunt Lilias is here, ye'll know ye're family."

"She said she was coming home tomorrow, but she also said I have to get to Inverness as soon as possible."

Ethan, who had been standing against the wall, moved to Parker's side. "We can leave right now. I have a car."

Parker turned to her brother and grasped his hands, "No, Ethan, Lilias said you had to stay here. I need to do this alone."

"No, I don't like that. I should be with you, help you."

"Lilias needs your help. She said Mom told her it has to be that way."

Ethan started to protest further then paused as he heard Catherine's voice confirming what his sister said. He pouted in response. "All right," he grumbled and squeezed her hands, "but I don't have to like it."

Parker stood and hugged Ethan, "I'll be back as fast as I can, and I guarantee I'll be fine." Parker tightened the hug for a second while she prayed it was the truth. She released him.

Ethan pulled car keys from his pocket. "Here, it's right out front. Be careful, it just stopped raining and it's foggy."

"I'll fasten my seat belt before I turn the key."

"You better or I'll be right behind you." He managed a slight smile.

Parker smiled at him, then turned to Alasdair, "Please do your best to keep him here. And tell L...your wife I look forward to meeting her."

Alasdair nodded and smiled. Parker walked through the house and out the front door. She got into Ethan's car and fastened the seat belt, turned the ignition and drove toward Inverness. Ethan walked out onto the porch and watched her taillights disappear into the fog.

Another pair of eyes watched the scene from an alleyway across the road.

Disclaimer in part one



The Truth Hurts
Part 22
by N.R. Levy



Erin looked on intently as the dark-haired woman drove away from Ceol Na Mara. The man who'd walked her out, Erin remembered, was called Ethan, and he was someone that her mistress feared. Well, perhaps feared wasn't the right word. Erin had never seen Maggie Abbott fearful of anyone, but the mistress was concerned that this young man's presence would upset her plans.

Ethan turned and walked back into the house, and Erin took cover behind an old ruined wall that had once stood as a boundary to foreign invaders. She pulled out the cell phone the mistress demanded she carry and dialed anxiously. After five rings, Erin knew she would get no answer. For some reason, Maggie had turned off her own phone. That meant she would call Erin when the time was right. Nothing to do then, Erin thought, but get back home and wait to hear what the mistress's wishes were.

***

As Parker drove down the road, the small car seeming to fly over the dirt-strewn path in front of it, she fought down a feeling of panic. She knew that it was born not only out of her concern for Jarod, but from the swirl of thoughts and images that were assaulting her brain. Just a few years ago, her family had consisted of she and her father. Now more mysterious branches had made themselves known. Violet, Lillias, and then there was the small, now silent family member whose presence she felt so strongly growing inside her. It was all so nearly overwhelming, and yet Parker could not afford to be overwhelmed. Jarod was in danger, and until he was safe with her again, he was all she could think about.

One thing she was certain of was her destination. "'tis someplace special t' him and ye. If ye listen yer heart will take ye there." Lillias' words echoed in Parker's mind. Her heart didn't need to lead her, her memories, so recently reclaimed, were doing that. St. Gilleabart's. Other than Violet's inn, it was the only place in Scotland that held real significance for them. It was also isolated and Jarod had already done security checks on it, which would mean it was a place he would feel potentially safe. Of course, he had no idea he was anything but.

What Parker did not know, though, was what she would say to him when she saw Jarod again. Ever since he'd learned that his parents were still alive, his whole life had been consumed by the idea he'd constructed of who Charles and Margaret Russell were. Once, he had even talked to her about how he imagined it would be when his whole family was together again.

"My dad, he's already accepted Ethan and the boy as his own. And we have Emily. And I have you." The last words had been spoken softly, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek as she laid with her head on his chest as they watched the sun rise from their bedroom at Violet's. "But it's when we find my mother, Parker, that's when I'll have everything. I've always envied you so much, the memories you have of your mom. To know what it felt like to have someone take care of you when you were sick or read to you or make you your favorite dinner. I mean, I know I'm not a boy anymore, but to be able to look in her eyes and see that she wanted to do all those things for me. I know that'll make it right somehow."

A horn sounded, pulling Parker back to the present and the road she had almost driven off of. She felt wetness on her cheeks, and realized that she'd been crying. Quickly, she swiped away the tears. And then another memory returned to her. She was back in the Caer, back in the room where Margaret had stolen her memories. Her thoughts that day had also been of Jarod. God, how she wished she could spare him this. She knew the wound that the truth would open up in his soul would never heal. After a lifetime of dreaming, of having those dreams destroyed by the very person you'd focused them on...the pain would cripple him.

But Parker was resolved. She would put him back together again, she and Cameron. But first she had to get Jarod away from Margaret. Parker's foot jammed down on the accelerator, moving her toward that first dangerous but necessary goal.

***

Jarod had finally fallen asleep. The silence brought Margaret a much-needed respite. Her son was understandably gregarious considering everything he had on his mind, but unaccustomed as she was to having to "play" at mothering, the effort was exhausting.

He looked so like Charles when he was young. The same build, same hopeful gleam in the eye. Were Margaret a different person, she was sure that would have been a source of pride, something to make her wistful. Instead, it was merely an observation.

She was tempted to try and call Erin, but she knew from watching the DSAs of Jarod's captivity that her son was plagued by nightmares, and at present it was more important for her to keep him quiet than to get in touch with her operative. Once Jarod was safely secured at the Caer and under the doctor's care, then she would deal with Catherine's errant daughter.

She wondered if Miss Parker had figured out that she was pregnant yet, and if so, what must she think about how it happened? The brainwashing process was too thorough to allow her to remember anything about her relationship with Jarod other than the contentious nature of it prior to her arrival in Scotland. Who did she think was the father? One thing was certain; Margaret needed to get her back under control soon as well. In her confusion, Miss Parker might be tempted to end the pregnancy, and Margaret couldn't allow that to happen. The child was far too valuable and had been planned for far too long.

"No, no. Parker, don't go."

Jarod jerked in his sleep, his brow now covered in sweat. Margaret knew that on some level she should feel guilty for the demons that chased her son in his sleep. But guilt was something that normal people dealt with. Looking at her watch, Margaret sighed. Soon enough, Jarod would forget all of his pain, all of his hopes for finding his family, and, for now, all of his love for Catherine Parker's little girl.

***

The train station was as busy as usual, and Gellie held tightly to young Ian's hand as they made their way through the crush of people. Of course, she knew that soon enough she would have to let her grandson go. She hated sending him away, and she knew the boy didn't really understand why he was leaving, but at least Marley had made it seem like quite the adventure for him. Still, Gellie wished there was another solution.

"We're all set then." Lillias walked up, tickets for she and Ian in her hand. She could see the strain of worry on Gellie's face, and Lillias was grateful that Marley had stayed behind at the inn, just in case Jarod tried to contact them. More people would only make this more difficult, and it was going to be hard enough. As if cued by her thought, Ian looked up at Gellie, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Gran, are you sure Pa is going to be okay? He seemed so sad when we left?"

Gellie took a deep breath as she thought about what her answer would be. Aye, "Pa" as Ian referred to Donal, was very sad indeed. Gellie had never felt such pain in her life as when she'd had to confront her dear husband with the truth of his wrongdoings. Donal hadn't tried to deny or excuse, instead he had just sat down, his hands covering his face.

"I let ye down, lovie. I'm sorry."

Gellie had spent the next hour convincing her husband that she understood the why of it even if she didn't agree with what he'd done. And she had to admit that had it been she Maggie Abbott had trapped and threatened, she couldn't honestly say she would have done any different than her man had.

Donal had barely been able to make eye contact with Marley or Lillias when they'd returned to the main house of the inn, but Marley had quickly approached him and embraced him in a gesture of understanding. Lillias had simply nodded her head toward him and then stated that it was best she and Ian be heading out.

Gellie knew Donal also regretted the need for sending their grandson away. Though they hoped it was only temporary, it was almost like losing their own boy again. Yet after the things the caer mistress had made Donal do to the young Americans, well, he also knew that it might be the only way to protect the boy without causing more harm to any innocents.

"We'll take good care of him, Gel." Lillias said, her had reaching down for Ian's free one.

"Aye, I know." Gellie leaned down and planted one final kiss on Ian's cheek, then she turned to go. Lillias' voice stopped her before she could get too far away.

"She's no don' wit him, Gellie. Be on yer guard."

With a nod of understanding, Gellie walked away. As she disappeared, Lillias looked down at Ian's youthful but bewildered face and smiled at him.

"Aye now, Mr. Ian. Let's us be off on our adventure now, shall we?"

***

Jarod woke up in a flourish of movement. The fleeting vision from his dream was one he wished he could burn out of his memory. Parker and their baby were lost to him. He couldn't remember how or why, he only knew that in the end, he had not been able to save them.

Quickly his eyes scanned the room inside St. Gilleabart's where he and his mother had spent the night. She was lying on the cot, her eyes closed, and he was grateful that his nightmare had not disturbed her rest. At least she was still here. Part of him had been afraid to sleep, fearful that she would sneak away in her efforts to keep him safe. Yet as worried as he was about that possibility, he wanted, no he needed a few minutes to himself outside of the tiny room.

Shaking his head, Jarod reached for his jacket and headed out to check the perimeter of the abbey. A dense white fog greeted him and sent a chill through his body as he began to walk around the ruins. His mind was struggling to recover the terrifying dream that had so quickly slipped away from him, but it was gone. What remained was the fear he'd felt and the overwhelming sense of loss. He could not lose Parker, not now. After all the confusing and painful years of separation and anger and, of course, the cat and mouse game of the last five, they had finally found each other. But it was more than that now. Their child was at stake.

Stopping on the north side of the old church, Jarod leaned against one of the walls and took in a deep breath. He had to calm down his mind. Sydney had told him so often that he couldn't find the answers he sought if he could not quiet the chatterings of his mind. For a brief moment, he wondered how Ethan and, more recently, Parker, could deal with the incessant whispers of their inner sense. He was certain that had he been born with that particular gift, his mind would have been trapped in an eternally harsh cramp. He needed quiet to think. He only hoped that his mother didn't wake and wonder what had happened to him.

***

Margaret had listened to Jarod's ragged breathing as he woke up from whatever tortured vision he'd suffered in his sleep. She'd wisely closed her own eyes, pretending to be deeply at rest so that her son would not realize she had sat awake all night, making certain that nothing happened to ruin her plans to get him safely to the caer today.

She'd continued to feign sleep as Jarod pulled on his jacket and exited the room, keeping her body still until the rhythmic shuffle of Jarod's careful steps, he was probably trying not to wake her, disappeared down the hall. Finally alone, she opened her own eyes and stood up, stretching away the night's stiffness.

Margaret was not concerned that Jarod would run away. What she'd been more fearful of was some interference from Mirage. As long as Ethan was on the loose and near to them, there was the chance that the voices of his inner sense would lead him to Jarod, and that would definitely not do, not now.

Reaching into her jacket, Margaret pulled out her cell phone and pre-dialed the number she wanted to reach. Before she pushed send, she moved to the window, glancing out to see if she could catch of glimpse of Jarod anywhere. Her effort was rewarded. Her son was pacing down below, agitation evident in every step he took. Smiling slightly, she pushed the send button. An accented female voice answered on the other end.

"Aye."

"Erin, what's happening?"

"Ma'am, the boy be here at Ceol Na Mara. I saw him."

"And he's still there? I need to be certain he's no where near Inverness."

"Not a chance o' that."

Margaret sighed, a bit relieved. Everything was working. "Did you see Parker?"

"Aye, if she be the dark-haired woman he was wit."

"Good. That's just..."

Footsteps. Margaret quickly disconnected the call, moving back to hide the phone in her coat.

"But she's gone, ma'am. She left hours ago. Ma'am? Ms. Abbott?"

Erin got no response. Oh, well, she thought. It was the boy the mistress was really worried about, and at least she knew the lad would not be causing her any trouble today.

***

Margaret finished hiding the phone just in time to turn around and see Jarod enter the room. When he saw the flushed look on her face, he assumed it was because she had been unable to find him.

"I was just downstairs checking things out, Mom. I'm sorry if I scared you."

Taking his cue, Margaret let her hands shake visibly as she crossed to embrace her son.

"No, I should have...I should have known you were just trying to keep us safe. I'm sorry I overreacted."

Jarod seemed appeased by her note of true worry, and after a brief embrace, she pushed back carefully and looked at him with a suitable mask of motherly affection.

"I won't let anything hurt you," he said, his tone so earnest, "I promise."

Margaret nodded and crossed to the other side of the room. God, sometimes it was almost laughable how easy it was to manipulate him. Despite his intelligence, her son was ruled by his emotions. It was the reason her plan had always hinged on grooming Parker to take her rightful place at the Centre. Parker would learn that emotions were a luxury and a weapon that a queen could use against her consort whenever needed. It was that very theory that had made using Charles so simple.

***

Parker parked the car a half a mile away from St. Gilleabart's and, gun in hand, walked the rest of the distance. Years of chasing Jarod had taught her that he was attuned to the slightest movement of rocks or gravel and that a hint of squeak from brakes would send him running. It would do so now. He had no reason to believe that it was her coming to find him.

Carefully, she approached the abbey. Just seeing it threatened to bring a rush of emotions flooding through her, but she steeled her nerves and heart against it. Now was not the time. Stopping to remove her shoes so that she would have extra stealth inside the stairwell, Parker moved inside, her gun extended before her.

It seemed to take forever to climb the old, crumbling steps, her heart pounding more with each step. She still had no real plan for what she would do or say, she only knew that she was leaving here with Jarod no matter what it took.

Parker reached the landing that led to the small room where she and Jarod had made love just weeks ago. She crossed the threshold, her eyes instantly taking in the site of Jarod sitting on the bed, and that bitch Margaret kneeling down in front of him with a look of such fake concern it made Parker want to throw up.

Margaret saw her first. Her eyes widened, and then she grabbed at Jarod's shoulders.

"Run, son. Run."

They were the first words Margaret could think to say though the first words she'd wanted to say were a litany of curses. How in the hell had Parker found them?

Jarod stood, turning quickly, ready to defend his mother. He had expected to see an army of sweepers. Instead he saw the all to familiar sight of Parker standing with a gun in her hand, and the gun was pointing at his mother. Yet instead of the panic that scene would normally cause him, all Jarod felt was relief. She was all right, and she was here. Now he could fix everything.

"Parker, thank God. I was so worried about..."

He was more than a little surprised when Parker tightened her grip on her gun and pointed it even more directly at his mother.

"Jarod, it's time to go."

Margaret took in the confusion emanating from both of the room's younger occupants. Parker looked ready to kill and Jarod's whole body had turned into a rock of tension as he tried to understand what was happening.

"What? Parker, what is going on?"

There seemed to be only one explanation for what was happening, at least in Margaret's mind. Parker, returned to her memories of several months ago, thought she was here to hunt Jarod down. Well, then, so be it. Margaret would use that to her advantage.

"Jarod, we have to get out of here. She's here to take you back to the Centre."

"Mom, no. I told you, things have changed. We..." Jarod looked desperately toward Parker. "Parker, tell her you aren't here to hurt us."

Parker's eyes narrowed intently as she thought about how much Jarod loved his "mother." The cow was totally undeserving, and if it was the last thing she ever did, Parker was going to make Margaret pay for the pain she was going to cause Jarod when he found out the truth.

"Jarod, I want you to come with me, right now. Come away from her and let's go."

"This is my mother, Parker. I'm not going to leave her. I've been looking for her forever, you know that."

Margaret put her hand on Jarod's arm, squeezing it.

"She wants to hurt you, son. I know how you feel about her, but she clearly wants to tear us apart."

"Shut up!" The force of the words coming from Parker's mouth caused Jarod to jump a bit, and he turned to her, his face twisted in absolute shock.

"Parker!"

"You tried to destroy us, to destroy me. But you failed. I am not going to let you hurt him. Do you understand me? I will not let you win."

"Parker," Jarod barked out, his body moving to move completely conceal his mother from his lover's view, "what the hell are you talking about? She hasn't hurt us. She loves me..."

"I love you, Jarod. I love you. And I am asking you to walk over here and come to me right now."

The words registered in both mother and son, but they prompted wholly different reactions. To Jarod, the words were a godsend. She remembered. She knew they had fallen in love, she knew what they meant to each other. To Margaret, the words almost floored her like nothing in all of her twisted life ever had. She remembered? Dear God, if Parker remembered...no, there was no way the brainwashing could have failed. It had NEVER failed.

"Your memory..." the words slipped from Jarod's lips so quietly it was almost as if he were afraid to speak them aloud. But Parker heard them.

"I remember, Jarod. I remember us, here and Violet's. I remember our child, Jarod. I remember everything. Now come to me, please."

Jarod took two involuntary steps toward Parker and for the first time Margaret felt real panic. She did remember; Parker remembered. Margaret glanced at her watch. The sweepers were still more than an hour away and there was no way she could hurry them. Her only option was to try and hold Parker off, but that didn't seem like a very likely path.

Parker felt her breath catch as Jarod began to walk toward her. Then he stopped. Slowly, he turned back and looked at Margaret, then he looked back at Parker.

"I...I don't understand. I can't, why do you want me to leave my mother?"

"Jarod, please," Parker begged, yet she kept strength in her voice, "please come to me. I know this doesn't make any sense, baby, but I'm asking you to trust me. Trust me."

The pretender felt his heart constrict and his lungs felt as if he couldn't get in any air. Trust her? Of course he trusted her. He loved her. But leave his mother? He'd searched so long...but it was Parker asking him and how could he not go?

"If what happened here meant anything to you, Jarod, then you'll come to me now." Parker hated to play that card with him, but she could see how much he was struggling, and damn it, she had to win this fight.

Margaret saw the look in Jarod's eyes as he turned to stare into her eyes. What was it he was looking for? She wasn't certain. This was not a development she had ever anticipated. Parker had somehow willed her memories back into being, and if that were true, her nemesis had become far more powerful than even the Centre had ever imagined. And Margaret stood helpless as her prize genetic product walked out of her embrace and walked toward his predestined lover.

Parker fought the urge to run to Jarod and pull him over to her more quickly. It seemed to take him forever to cross the width of the tiny room. But finally, he was there, beside her, and though she wanted nothing more than to pull him to her and hold him, she had someone else to take care of first. Parker pushed a stunned Jarod partially behind her as she reinforced her aim on Margaret. Her voice came out low and full of rage as she spoke to her new enemy.

"I know what you did to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Margaret replied, her voice still carrying out the charade of panic-stricken mother. Yet her mind was racing. There was only one option now, she had to get out of the room. The problem was, there was only one way out, and Parker and her gun were blocking it. Yet Jarod was also there. Jarod. His weakness was about to be her ace in the hole. Feigning an attempt to get closer to her son, Margaret moved forward. Parker reacted instantly, taking a step forward and pushing the gun in Margaret's direction. Jarod remained behind Parker. He was in a partial daze, his mind still reeling.

"Stay away from us. I won't let you hurt him."

"You're the one who's going to hurt him, Miss Parker. Look at what you're doing to him now."

Another few steps. Parker was losing her patience. She clicked the safety off her gun. That movement was all it took to break Jarod from his shock-induced reverie. He reached out and grabbed Parker's arm, pulling it down and away from his mother.

"Parker, no!"

A shot rang out as Jarod's movement made Parker pull the trigger. The bullet jettisoned into the floorboards, missing all of the room's occupants, but Margaret had made her opportunity. With Jarod and Parker out of the way, she dashed through the door and down the steps.

"Jarod, stop. Let me go." Parker tried to push Jarod off of her, but it was already too late. Margaret was gone. Meanwhile Jarod stood looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

"Parker, she's my mother. What the hell were you doing?"

"Saving you, saving our child from a life worse than anything you or I have been through so far, Jarod."

Jarod was speechless. Parker briefly thought of pursuing Margaret, but decided against it. She and the Centre Bitch would meet up again. What mattered now was the man she had come for. Parker moved to him, her arms pulling him against her body.

"Baby, I know you don't understand what just happened. I'll tell you everything, I will. But the truth is going to hurt so much more than any of the lies they've told you."

Parker felt his body begin shake against her, and she knew the emotional tumult of the last few minutes had finally worn him down. Helpless, she simply held him tighter.

"Parker, I...what..."

"Shh. I'm going to make it all right, Jarod. I promise I will."

Disclaimer in part one




The Truth Hurts
Part 23
by Paula




Parker and Jarod stood, holding each other, in St. Gilleabart's rectory. Parker did not want to move. Moving would mean she had to start explaining her actions and hurting Jarod. Right here right now, she could relive the discovery of their love and pretend that the last few days had never taken place.

Jarod stopped shaking after a few moments. He was sure his legs would hold him now but continued to cling to Parker, to inhale her fragrance, and feel her warmth against him. He tried to calm his emotions. Parker remembered. She remembered everything, and he had her back. He started to tremble again, and as he felt Parker stroke his back, he sighed. What had just gone on between the women he loved? His mother had been afraid of Parker and Parker had begged him to leave the one person who meant family to him. Family...Parker knew about the baby.

Jarod pulled away from Parker, held her at arms length and studied her face in amazement. "You know about the baby?"

"Yes," she smiled, "I know."

"Are you all right? Is everything all right? Are you upset about it, about us?"

"No, Jarod." Parker felt an impulse to laugh, "If there is anything in this whole situation that does not upset me it's our son."

"It's a boy?" Jarod grinned foolishly; then sobered, "Parker what just happened? What happened to you? To your memory?" Both of them jumped when they heard a car engine come to life near the kirk. Jarod hand flew to his pocket. His keys were still there even though his car was screeching away; apparently his mother knew how to hotwire. Jarod smiled quizzically and showed Parker the keys. She did not share his amusement.

"Jarod, much as I would love to just stand here with you forever. The stories need to wait until we get away. I don't know how long we have but I'm sure we have to move now."

"But my mother..."

"Your mother works for The Centre." It was as much of the truth as she could risk. The shock and disbelief on Jarod's face sent a jab of pain through her heart. "Before you say anything or try to defend her, please, just believe me enough to go with me now."

The struggle was visible, "Yes, Parker." He took a breath; thoughts of action took the place of questions. "My things are in the other room. Do you have a car or anything?"

"I'm parked half a mile up the road." She took his hand in hers and he squeezed it. Somehow, no matter how terrible things were right now, that was enough to make her feel content. Jarod grabbed his bag and they headed down the stairs. He stopped suddenly at the door and looked at her feet, "Ah, Parker, you might consider putting on your shoes. Stockings just don't make it on cobble stones."

She punched him in the arm but made no comment as he retrieved her shoes. He steadied her while she put them on. She knew he needed to help her even if she did not need the help. She wondered if she could get used to being pampered after so many years of being tough. Jarod straightened and looked at her to reassure himself of the current reality. The look in his eyes melted her heart. Now it was her turn to sigh. Damn he was adorable. For a second she forgot why they were in a hurry, put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Jarod responded appropriately. After a minute or so her mind started functioning again and she disengaged her mouth from his. "We have to boogie, Jarod."

"Boogie?" he asked absently, toying with the tips of her hair.

"Move, as in now." Parker grabbed Jarod's elbow and pushed him toward the door. He opened it a crack to check for trouble and then pushed it all the way open. They hurried away from St. Gilleabart's. Jarod scanned for sweepers; Parker scanned for Margaret.

They made it to the car with no problems. Jarod threw his bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat. "Where to now?"

Parker started the car and drove west. "Kyle of Lochalsh. Ethan's there."

"Ethan? In Scotland?" Jarod was surprised but pleased. "You found him?"

"He found me. He helped me recover my memories; he had a bit of assistance from his nephew." Parker rested a hand on her still-flat stomach.

"Nephew? You mean our baby?" Jarod stared at the spot where her hand rested. "I hate to seem clueless here, Parker, but what are you talking about?"

"Cameron, he told me his name by the way, is as tenacious as you are. He gave me no peace until I got past the blocks and recovered all my memories. He has Ethan's gift." Parker glanced at Jarod and saw a look of dismay. "No, Jarod, he'll be fine. He has us and Violet's family and we will not allow The Centre to twist his gift or his mind."

Jarod nodded, still slightly confused, "Okay, so Ethan and ...Cameron, they helped you remember what happened before the car wreck, what caused you to loose your memory."

"Not what, Jarod, who." Parker gave Jarod a hard look, gazed ahead for a few seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek, then pulled the car abruptly off the road. She threw it into park and turned in the seat. "The 'who,' my love," Parker took his face in her hands, "is Margaret, your mother."

Jarod jerked as though she spat at him; he tried to turn his head but Parker held his face and his gaze. He shut his eyes. "I don't believe you." He shook his head slightly and opened his eyes.

"You know I wouldn't lie to you, Baby. Don't you?"

Jarod's eyes opened. "I don't think you're lying, Parker." He put his hands over hers and pulled them down and together. He held them in his lap, absently rubbing his thumbs over her wrists. He dropped his eyes for a second then returned them to her face. "I just can't believe it's true. It may be a memory aberration caused by whatever drugs you were given or a false memory put into your brain to separate me from my mother, or you."

Parker sighed and squeezed Jarod's hands. "I'm not sure I expected you to believe me. I hoped, but I knew it would be too hard. It's true, Jarod, and I can prove it. Your mo... Margaret keeps journals. I found some of them at the Caer. That's where I was when she caught me reading her words. She incriminated herself. I can show you; I'll take you there now." Parker swiveled forward in her seat.

"No, Annsachd," Jarod's using his name for her sent a pleasant chill down Parker's back. "I'll go to Caer Erract; you'll wait somewhere safe or, better yet, go to Ethan while I do. I'll find you after."

"Jarod, I won't be separated from you again." It was a statement set in stone with just a tinge of fear.

Jarod had expected disagreement but when he saw the look in Parker's eyes he knew he would not win this argument. He frowned.

"Besides, I know exactly where the diaries are hidden, and I believe she's afraid of me."

"If what you say is true, and I don't believe it is, then she would be very afraid of you if she knew anything about you." Jarod half smiled. Parker touched her hand to his cheek, put the car in gear, turned around and drove toward the Caer.

Parker knew by the set of Jarod's jaw that he had no intention of believing her. He was staring straight ahead; probably thinking up plausible explanations for her accusations or excuses for Margaret's actions. Denial was a wonderful thing. God knew she understood how someone could deny the truth about a parent.

The drive to the Caer was short and silent. Jarod immediately took charge. Parker allowed it with hidden amusement; he was something to watch in action. He had her park the car just behind an overgrown stone fence to the side of the hill. It was slightly below the Caer, within easy running distance but well hidden. He told her to stay with the car while he reconnoitered. Parker followed as soon as he disappeared around the side of the hill. She kept him in sight as well as she could while staying hidden. He looked in her direction often, but kept moving slowly around and toward the Caer. When he was satisfied, he went to work at a locked door on the side of the hill toward the car.

Parker joined him at the door. He was not at all surprised and not all that happy. "Didn't you think I'd come back for you?"

"No," she answered with a wry tone.

"You were right." He got the latch. "But as long as you're here," he pushed the door open and stood to one side, "we may as well go in."

Parker bowed slightly and entered first. Jarod followed, shutting the door behind him. "As best I can tell, there's no one here now. But there has been activity, car tracks several days old and older, and foot traffic more recently. There's no smoke now but I can smell the traces of old fires so someone may have been living here."

"Your..." she stopped. He would know soon enough. "I know where to look." Parker took the lead. She noticed Jarod taking in every detail, including the presence of relatively new electric wiring on the lower levels. As they ascended to ground level and above the accommodations were more primitive. There was still no sign of human presence other than their own. Parker led them as directly as possible to Margaret's tower rooms.

Once they reached the tower, Jarod took the lead again. He went to work at picking the obviously new lock. He had a much harder time than Parker expected. Or was he hesitant to solve it? He finally succeeded with the lock and opened the door.

The room was cool; wood was set in the hearth, unlit, but it looked like occupancy was imminent. Jarod was even more wary, "We need to get what we came for and get out of here, Parker. This has the makings of a trap."

"Yes, I know. I was caught in it once." Parker walked past Jarod and into the room. Chills ran down her spine. The longer she was in the Caer the harder it was to keep moving. She really wanted out of here. Instead of bolting, Parker went directly to an antique cupboard that hid the safe where she had found the journals. On her previous visit the safe was not locked; this time it was. "Jarod, you've pretended to be a safecracker a few times. Try this one."

"Apparently, breaking and entering is turning into my most useful skill." He cocked an eyebrow at her and attended to the safe. It was open in a minute.

It was completely empty.

Jarod heard Parker swear softly and angrily, but somehow all he could feel was relief. The feeling puzzled him. He knew Parker was wrong about his mother. He knew there were no journals. But if Parker was wrong then why had his mother run? And if he was so sure then why was he relieved? "This is where you thought you found journals?"

"This IS where they were, in a locked box." Her memory had been stolen because of them. "Do you think this castle has empty safes behind every cupboard?"

Jarod decided that was meant to be a rhetorical question. "Maybe there's other evidence." Jarod turned slowly, taking in the small, sparsely furnished room. It was meticulous. There was another door fireside. "What's through there?"

"Her bedroom. I'll check it." Parker's actions echoed her words.

Jarod walked over to a leather chair and side table near the hearth. Both were bare; the table was dustless; the arms of the chair shone as though newly cleaned. That in itself was suspicious. He frowned, and walked to the only other furniture in the room, a lovely old desk. The drawers were unlocked and it only took moments to verify that there was nothing personal there. Jarod carefully pocketed a pen to run a fingerprint check later. He joined Parker in the other room.

Parker slid from under the bed. She looked up at Jarod but could not gather the energy to rise. "Nothing. Not even clothes in the cupboard. Just sheets, towels and blankets; all freshly washed."

Jarod nodded. This was the way he left a room when he didn't want The Centre to know he'd been there. He looked out the window. There was a person in the brush to the front of the Caer; they were not doing a very good job of hiding. He looked into the distance. There were two cars coming this way from Inverness. They were not yet on the road to the Caer, but they were traveling a bit fast for local traffic. "Parker, it's time to go."

Parker did not question Jarod. The tone of his voice was enough to snap her to her feet even if he had not grasped her hand and pulled her up. She glanced out the window and saw the dust on the far road. They started to run.

They made excellent time getting back down to the basement level. They were almost at the door when Parker stopped. Jarod spun around, expecting trouble.

Parker was staring down a side hall, still as stone. Jarod studied her point of view but saw only darkness. He turned to her. She was breathing shallowly. "Parker?" he asked softly, touching her arm.

But Parker was somewhere else. She was ripping through a box of files in a small dungeon when Margaret found her. She lay on a concrete slab, her wrists and ankles shackled into place by old manacles, and Margaret was smiling at her while one of her doctors readied a syringe of something that would put her through hell. She screamed as Margaret turned away, the syringe entered her arm and everything spun into nothing.

Parker returned to reality to find Jarod bracing her with an arm around her shoulder. She was trembling and exhausted. "Jarod, they had me down here, in one of those rooms. And there were Centre records." She pointed down the black hall. "There could be something there. We have to check."

"This place has been cleaned, Parker, an excellent job. IF there was anything here to lead us to whoever took your memory, it's gone now. It would be a waste of time we don't have."

Parker looked wistfully down the hall, but nodded acceptance. Jarod moved his arm to her waist and supported her as they ran out of the Caer to the car. Jarod kept his free hand on his gun. He expected an attack from the man in the bushes but none came.

Parker's legs threatened to give way, but they made it to the car. She gratefully slid into the passenger seat. Jarod took the driver's side. He drove slowly so as not to raise dust and positioned them just short of the spot where their driveway met the main drive. Two black cars swept past on their way to the Caer. Jarod used their dust cloud as cover to drive the opposite direction.




Fergus Campbell watched two cars of sweepers come up the drive just as he had watched Jarod and Parker come earlier. He was somewhat proud that he avoided Jarod's scouting. He knew the younger man was careful, but he lived on this land and he knew how to hide. It had been harder for Fergus to stay away from them. They were obviously as one again and he wanted to warn them that the Sassenach's plans were not done. She had sent him here in a bit of a panic-he smiled at that thought-to be sure there was no evidence of her identity left in the Caer. He had done his job although he had considered betraying her. His small concession to his own conscience had been to partially reveal himself in the thin autumn bushes. Fergus half hoped that Jarod would confront him so that he could confess.

When the couple left the Caer, he saw that the lass was exhausted and knew the lad would want to be gone before the sweepers got there. Fergus decided it was not his station to be the Sassenach's accuser, at least not now. If there were indeed a God, He would see to that devil's downfall.

Fergus smiled again as he watched Parker's car exit the dust cloud and speed away from the Caer. He pulled out his cellular phone and dialed.

The phone was answered immediately, "Well?"

"They been here and gone, Missus."

"Did they find anything?" she growled.

"No' that I could see. They were nae here long."

"Good. And the sweepers?"

"They be arriving now, Missus, but they be too late." By seconds but she did not need to know.

Margaret swore under her breath.

"It's nae my place to say so, Missus, but the lass seemed a bit worn down like."

"It's not your place to say anything. Tell those idiots to turn their cars around and get to Abbott Hall as soon as possible. And you come with them. Parker will still want to find me and I'll be waiting."

Fergus said "Aye" into a dead line. He waited in the driveway until the cars came to a stop. He got into the second car with a package the Sassenach wanted taken to her. He told the sweepers to thoroughly check the Caer and then return to Penrith. The inspection would only keep the sweepers off the road for a few minutes, just long enough to be sure the road was clear.





Margaret Abbott hung up on Fergus and threw the cell phone on the car seat. She continued driving south while she reached into her purse and touched her latest journal. The previous journal, and a few other personal items, would arrive at Abbott Hall with Campbell.

So the "royal" couple was free and together. This could not be tolerated. Somehow Parker had regained her memory, which meant another wipe would probably be no more successful. Something must have happened in Kyle of Lochalsh, or maybe it was the voices. It would have been better if Parker had learned a few more life lessons before she discovered her damned gift. Well, too late for that. Now Margaret had to find a way to regain some control of the situation. Erin still watched the Kinlock Inn and Donal was still at Penfield, the couple's most likely destinations. Plans could be salvaged if everyone did a better job of relaying information this time. She would be waiting for Parker to come to her, and she intended to be ready.







Jarod drove toward Kyle of Lochalsh. Parker dozed in the seat beside him. Jarod looked at her. The warm afternoon light gave her a bit of color but she looked exhausted. She had protested that they needed to stay at the Caer, watch the sweepers, and follow them back to Margaret. Jarod refused to even consider it as an option. He wanted her far away from that place. They had argued for several miles, but Parker was too tired to keep it up for long. Parker too tired to argue? That was worrisome. He knew she had driven all night to get to Inverness ahead of the sweepers because of something Violet Penfield's sister had said to her.

Lillias was a person he looked forward to meeting and dreaded to meet at the same time. Parker said Lillias knew his mother, or someone who claimed to be her. Jarod also wanted to see Ethan and hear what his brother's voices had to say on the situation.

Parker made a small sound and Jarod looked at her again. Her eyes were open and she managed a wan smile. "Sorry, I've been doing that a lot lately."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, just perpetually tired."

"That will pass once you're into the second trimester. The hormonal changes you're experiencing..."

"Tend to make me tired and irritable. You might want to keep that in mind before you recite the whole OB/GYN manual to me."

Jarod just smiled at her and returned his focus to driving.

"I think it's more mental exhaustion if you want to know the truth," said Parker. "This week has been too full of changes."

"I'm sorry, Parker, that I haven't been there."

"You can't be there every second, but for right now we have to stay together. It's what Margaret," she paused, "The Centre fears most. If we stay together, they cannot beat us."

Jarod was silent for several minutes. He cleared his throat bracing himself for the reaction he was about to cause, "I think you should stay in Kyle of Lochalsh."

Parker bit back her first reply, "And you will be where?"

"I'll be finding out what happened to you. What The Centre has done to my mother...if you're right, and I still don't think you are. Parker, if you could have seen her, been with her last night..."

"I have seen her, Jarod!" her voice became a growl. "I know what she's done to me, to us, what she wants to do to our son." She saw the set of Jarod's jaw, the desperate look in his eyes. "You'll listen to Lillias and Ethan, we'll find the damned journals and you'll see!" She found herself slightly out of breath.

"I'm sorry, Annsachd, I didn't mean to upset you." Jarod felt torn in opposite directions.

Parker deliberately calmed herself. He was so damned stubborn, but he loved her. "I wish you didn't have to, Jarod, but you will never be safe until you believe the truth." She touched his hand briefly. "Once we get to Ceol Na Mara and rest a bit we can talk about it calmly and make a plan. I intend to see your mother again."

Jarod's jaw clenched, but he dropped the subject.

Parker spent some time staring out the window, reliving her earlier flashback, looking for clues as to Margaret's whereabouts. Something tugged at the corner of her memory. She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out the key ring with her house keys on it. One key was missing, a small one, but she had seen it recently.

"Jarod, can I see your keys?"

Jarod hesitated. "Ah, sure." He dug in his pocket and pulled out his now useless car keys and one other. He handed them to Parker and braced for another explosion.

Parker picked out the key she remembered. "Where did you get this one?" she tried not to sound accusatory.

"From your key ring," in a small voice.

"And why?"

"I knew it meant something. You lost your memory, and I thought if I could find out what it was I could help you."

Parker nodded, "I'm taking it back now." She removed the key and returned the rest to Jarod.

Jarod glanced at her; she smiled at him; he started breathing again, relieved. After a few seconds he got the silly grin on his face that usually irritated Parker. "What?" she asked.

"It's a boy."

Parker laughed. There was nothing else to say for the moment.





Erin Gordon had taken to meeting the train, every train, every day, coming to or going from Kyle of Lochalsh. She'd been doing it since she got Maggie Abbott's call several days ago. It was never her favorite occupation, standing hidden in the shadows while friends and lovers greeted one another. At least the station was a busier with vacationers in the summer. Now business had slowed and the wind was much colder. Just a minute till the few afternoon passengers disembarked and she could be getting back to the tavern and a nice hot toddy.

Erin turned her collar up and stamped her feet. It felt like snow in the air even though it was a bit early in the season, and she had noticed tightness in her chest when she got up this morning. She coughed slightly. The conductor was taking his sweet time getting the doors open and the steps out. Just as Erin decided there were no arrivals this train and started to turn away she saw Alasdair Ross pull up in his old truck. She forgot the cold; her hand went automatically to the cell phone in her pocket; and her eyes fixed on the train door.

Her attention was rewarded after several more interminable minutes. Lillias stepped off the train and embraced her husband. The two were a bit old for that, weren't they? A young boy jumped from train to platform without touching a step. Now, who would that be? Erin wondered. The Rosses had no children, a fact lamented by all the town's old women, and therefore no grandchildren. Lillias must have some a good reason to be dragging what looked to be a school-age boy on holiday with her.

Erin pulled out her phone and hit the first programmed number. Margaret answered on the second ring, "Yes?"

"Lillias Ross has come home from Inverness, Ma'am."

Margaret's eyebrows rose in surprise, "That was rather quick. Is there a problem?"

"Nae wit' them, as far as I can tell. But she brought a wee lad wit her, no more than five or six. I've naer seen him afore."

"What's he look like?"

"Slender, fair, curly dark hair, light eyes."

Margaret's surprise turned to cold rage. "I know who he is, and he's not important to you. What is important is for you to keep watch on the Ross place. I need to know immediately if they get any new or return visitors. Don't let me down this time."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Margaret cut the call and her phone flew again. Donal Ferguson had made a grievous error in sending his grandson with Lillias, but he was still not out of control. Once she got to Abbott Hall he would certainly learn as much. She drove her son's rental car to Glasgow, dropped it at the train station and caught the train to Penrith.

Erin followed the Rosses back to the Kinlock Inn.





Lillias was relieved to be home. She smiled at herself, turning into an old lady, afraid to leave her back porch because somewhat might happen. But much had happened in a little over a day. One of the most important changes waited for her in Ceol Na Mara. She handed the still energetic Ian over to Alasdair's care and walked quickly to the cottage near the sea.

Ethan was waiting just inside Ceol Na Mara, pacing nervously. He stood very still for almost a minute after Lillias walked in the door. She knew there was no point in speaking to him immediately; he paid attention to too many voices, never having learned to sort and silence them well.

Finally, he smiled a sweet, simple smile. "Hello, Aunt Lillias. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Lillias immediately embraced him. "Hello, me love. It's been a very long time I been waitin' t' meet ye. Ye're just as handsome as yer mither was bonnie."

Ethan shivered and began to cry. Lillias held him away from her and smiled affectionately. "Whist, child, I dinna mean t' squeeze tears outa ye." She laughed and hugged him again.

"I don't know why I'm crying. You didn't do anything. I don't know why."

"Tis because ye're happy t' be here, lad, and ye have a right t' be happy. Stay wit' me fer a bit and ye will learn what yer should ha' been taught. We'll find a way fer ye 't stay happy.

"You'll teach me," he said in a tone of wonder, "to make the voices stop?"

"I canna stop them, love, but ye can learn t' quiet them a bit and come t' peace wit yer gift."

Ethan nodded, "I am happy to be here. And Parker is coming back now."

"Is she, lad? My, my, I best be careful; or ye and yer gift are sure t' put me t' shame. Well, if yer sister be comin we better get 't cookin. I hear that man o' hers loves t' eat."

"How do you know Jarod's with her?"

"Parker would nae be comin' back without him." They smiled at each other and headed for the kitchen.




Some two hours after arriving at her post, Erin's patience had worn thin. She feared Maggie Abbott but she was shivering, felt as though she had a fever, and was to the point where she did not care what Maggie did to her.

In a day or two Maggie would be off to rule the world or meddle in someone else's life. It was times like these that Erin regretted Margaret's interference in her husband's murder investigation. The help had been welcome at the time. The police had been closing in on her, and she knew she had made mistakes. She thought she would spend the rest of her life in prison for killing that lazy drunkard. Maggie had pointed one particularly damning piece of evidence out to her. Then she arranged an alibi and covered Erin's tracks. She had been properly grateful at the time. Now Erin knew she had sold her soul to yet another devil, with no possible redemption.

Night was falling and a fine rain mixed with snow. Erin just finished a coughing fit when her surveillance paid off. A familiar car returned to the Inn. The Parker woman was in the passenger seat. A dark man parked the car then came around and helped the woman out of the car and up to the Inn.

This news would make Maggie Abbott's day, one way or the other. Erin pulled out her cell phone and realized the battery was dead. Well, it was Fate then. If she had called Maggie, she would have been ordered to stay here the night. They'd just got here; calling could wait till morning. There was a hot toddy and a bed calling her. Erin pocketed the phone and went home.




Jarod did not need a tour of the Inn; his nose led him directly to the kitchen. He did not need to be introduced to Lillias; Ethan yelled his name and practically tackled him. Lillias opened the door and told them to take their wrestling out of her kitchen. They obeyed, barely disengaging long enough to get through the doorway.

Lillias laughed and went to meet her niece in the parlor. She did not need an introduction to Parker either. "Ah, lassie, ye are yer mother come back t' me." She opened her arms and Parker came into them.

"A...aunt Lillias, it's good to be here." Parker felt tears coming into her eyes; she wiped at them.

Lillias released her slightly, "I seem t' be havin' that effect on people today. Ethan was fair blubbering when we met.

"I'm sorry, I don't usually do that. I need a little down time; I'm a bit worn around the edges." Parker smiled faintly. "I just hope we're not bringing trouble with us."

"That 'trouble' will nae bother ye here. And ye have good reason t' be weary, love, ye been gallivanting all over the countryside. That wee bairn ye're carrying needs ye t' care fer yerself. Ye should get yerself t' the cottage and a nap richt now."

"I would love that, but first I need you and Ethan to talk to Jarod. Where are they?"

"They be outside where they canna break furniture whilst they play. Supper'll be ready soon. Alasdair is settling our other young houseguest, Ian, into a room upstairs. They can eat up there. My cooking will hold yer man still while we talk at him." Lillias took Parker's hand and patted it. "Come in the kitchen while I finish and have a bit o' tea"

Lillias kept hold of Parker's hand as they walked into the kitchen. Both women kept their dialogue light, avoiding any mention of Maggie Abbott or their gift. Parker spoke of the weather in Scotland and the States. Lillias spoke of her gardens and cooking. Soon the conversation comfortably petered out and they sat at the table, silently sipping tea.

Lillias had just prepared two plates for Alasdair and Ian when Jarod and Ethan burst into the kitchen. They were met by her stern tone.

"Ye two get yerselves back out that door till ye brush all the leaves and grass off yer clothes."

"Yes, ma'am, " they said in unison, and obeyed.

Lillias inspected them when they walked back in and decided their clothes would do. She sent Ethan upstairs with the tray of food while she considered Jarod. "So, ye be Maggie Abbott's son," she nodded to herself, "and my lass's young man. There is nae much of Maggie about ye. 'Tis a blessing."

Jarod was unsure of how to respond. Lillias continued.

"Sorry, lad. Jarod is it? I have no love fer the woman who calls herself yer mother. But the lass here loves ye and Ethan tells me ye be worthy of it, and Catie always cherished ye."

"She did?"

Aye, lad, she did. And if she did, then I will too." Jarod gave her his most winning smile. Lillias just laughed. "I've kept far too many nieces and nephews to be taken in quite that easy, lad. Ye just go wash yer hands and set yerself down at table. Dinner be ready and then we must talk."

Jarod smile faded slightly. Lillias quickly added, "Don't worry, dearie, we'll let ye eat yer fill first."

They both turned toward the sound of Parker's laughter.

"Jarod always has his priorities straight."






Dinner was pleasant. Ethan told about his travels around Scotland. He deliberately neglected to mention the photograph album he had found at his adoptive parents' house or the iron gates where the photograph had led him. Parker recounted her travelogue. Lillias spoke of her honeymoon in Ireland and trips to Europe.

Jarod was reticent, making only small comments. Parker could see his tension. He smiled and ate seconds of Lillias' good food but his eyes darted around like a cornered animal, only waiting for the axe to fall. It did fall, but gently as any alarm clock could wake a dreamer from his fantasy. Jarod listened, he argued, he heard, he accepted what they said, and toward the end of the evening he cried a bit.

Parker had hoped he would really believe them; maybe even agree to help them bring Maggie Abbott, who he knew as mother, to justice. She could tell he was still far from that point, but there was time. After they relaxed a bit and reestablished their relationship, in a day or two, they would find Margaret's diaries, and she would convince him.

Still, Parker was relieved by his acceptance of their discussion. With that relief came an intense awareness of her exhaustion. She felt as though she might doze off sitting upright. Jarod noticed immediately. He insisted that Parker go to Ceol Na Mara and get some sleep. Lillias backed up his demand. Parker did not have the energy to argue. Jarod put his arm around her waist again and helped her to the cottage. It felt wonderful having him walk next to her, safe from The Centre and his mother. She could almost believe everything would be all right.

Jarod tucked Parker into bed while she joked about his being so attentive. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He knew Lillias and Ethan were still in the kitchen, cleaning up and talking. Ethan had moved his things to the Inn so that Jarod and Parker could have privacy. He wanted to go back and talk to Lillias, but he wanted to stay with Parker more. He undressed and climbed into bed. The feeling of her in his arms again was wonderful; hearing Parker mumble in her sleep and feeling her snuggle against him was almost too good. But Jarod could not sleep. The evening's conversation reran through his mind a hundred times. He had listened to what they said, he had understood and knew they told the truth.

But he could not believe.

Jarod lay next to Parker until one a.m. Finally, he could stay still no longer; he got up and redressed. He glanced toward the Inn and found all the windows dark. He went downstairs and paced around the cottage. He wanted to be here but felt trapped.

Jarod walked through the kitchen and out onto the upper porch. The rain had stopped and there were only a few icy flakes of snow on the wind. He went back in, grabbed a coat and went down to the lower deck. Ethan had taken him to the edge of the cliff to see the ocean; now he took the wooden stairs to the beach. Slogging through sodden half-frozen sand was exhausting. Keeping his bearings by storm-darkened moonlight required concentration, and the sound of the breakers drowned out all thought. It was perfect.

By the time Jarod climbed back up the stairway to the cottage his hands, feet, and mind were numb. He ran warm water over his hands until his fingers were thawed enough to unbutton his coat and undo his frozen shoelaces. He thought he might be in trouble if Lillias saw the sand he had track into the kitchen. He smiled at that thought but it brought back all the rest. He sighed, put his wet things near the radiator and cleaned up the floor.

Jarod went into the living room and sat in a large comfortable chair. He closed his eyes. It was three a. m. He had not slept in nearly twenty-four hours and he was exhausted from the walk. He opened his eyes. He picked up a deck of cards from the side table and put them down. He thumbed through a magazine but nothing registered. As he tossed it back onto the table he noticed a photo album that had been under it. He picked it up, not expecting to recognize anyone in the photos. A picture of Ethan fell out when he opened the book.

Jarod took the photo album to the kitchen table for a better look. He no sooner sat than the phone rang. God, it was going to wake Parker. He jumped up and grabbed the receiver halfway through the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hello...do I have the correct number?" said a very familiar voice.

"Sydney?"

"Jarod? You found her? You're together?"

"Well, actually she found me. But we're both here...I guess you know where here is?"

"Yes. I'm calling from my private phone at home."

Jarod glanced at the clock. It would be about ten at night in Blue Cove; Sydney probably just got home. "Do you need me to wake Parker?" He moved the telephone to the table and opened the album.

"No, I can tell you what I've learned. If I'd known you were together the call would have waited." Sydney sounded slightly hurt.

"It's been less than a day, and a lot was happening. I was going to call you tomorrow."

Sydney accepted that as an apology. "I have information on Lachlan Abbott"

"That's interesting. I just got some information on his sister."

Sydney paused, trying to interpret the tone of Jarod's voice. "I'm sorry. I can't remember what I've told you as opposed to what I've told Miss Parker."

"I know Abbott died or was murdered on April 15, 1970 in Inverness. I know he was a photographer." Jarod's hand fell on the photograph that had taken Ethan to Penrith. The gold embossed name on the front, Lachlan Abbott. "I'm relatively sure that he worked for MI6 in some capacity."

"He may also have been working for The Centre."

That drew Jarod's attention. "How?"

"An FBI agent opened a file on Abbott in September of 1969. According to the file he knew facts about kidnappings that resulted in children coming to The Centre. He knew a good bit about your kidnapping. The agent was very suspicious but a higher official called off the investigation; it could have been either MI6 or The Centre."

For a moment Jarod grasped at that straw. Lachlan was the kidnapper; that's how his mother was involved. She was trying to stop him. Jarod realized that Sydney was waiting for him to speak. "Has Broots tried the MI6 files?" He pulled the photo from the album for closer examination. It was in terrible condition.

"Without too much luck. We did find a family address though, a place known as Abbott Hall, no street number, Penrith, Cumbria, England."

Jarod jotted the information down on a notepad Lillias kept with the phone. He turned over the photograph in his other hand. With a lot of imagination he could make out P and the number 69. "Tell Broots I need, Miss Parker needs him to keep looking. What you've given me is very useful."

"I will keep you posted. I would appreciate a call if anything changes."

Jarod heard the concern in Sydney's voice and assumed it was for Parker. "She's fine, Sydney, actually more than fine. She has some good news, about family, but I'll let her tell you herself."

Sydney still could not bring himself to correct Jarod's interpretation. "Very good. Take care."

"You too, and Broots." They disconnected.

Jarod reexamined the album. It was basically family photographs, Christmases and birthdays. Ethan looked happy in some, confused in others. He had been well treated by his foster parents if you did not count their allowing Mr. Raines to distort his gift. The photo taken by Lachlan Abbott was the only one not of family members. Out of place from the rest it was conspicuous. It was also badly faded and slightly water damaged.

Jarod went to his suitcase, in the living room where he had left it. He got out his little bag of tools/toys, including a 30X double loop magnifier, and returned to the photo. Two of the subjects were relatively visible, Catherine Parker and Mr. Raines. With magnification he could make out Edna Raines and his mother. Margaret stood alone, Edna stood with her husband, and Catherine stood beside a man whose face was all but erased.

Jarod reversed the photo. The writing was small and cramped. Moisture had caused the ink to bleed. The names were impossible to read. The year was definitely 1969. The month was illegible except that it had four letters; that agreed with the photo, in which it appeared to be summer. Jarod could make out P-e-n then a smudge and t-h, Penrith. There were two words before that, the first began with A and ended with t; the second had four letters, Abbott Hall.

So, the photograph was taken at the elaborate gate of Abbott Hall. Jarod examined the photo again. By stature and clothes, Jarod guessed the faceless man was Mr. Parker. If he had his computer he could scan the print and enhance it, but his computer was back in Violet Penfield's Inn. But Ethan was here, and where Ethan went his computer went. Jarod put the photo in his pocket. He put on his slightly damp shoes and moved quietly from the cottage to the Inn.

Ethan's laptop was in a corner of the kitchen. Jarod set it up on the table. Apparently Ethan had not packed a scanner, just a compact printer. So much for identifying the mystery man in the photo. Well, it did prove that Lachlan Abbott knew Raines and Catherine Parker. Jarod decided to try hacking into MI6. British Intelligence was pretty good at locking up their information behind code but Jarod was into their old personnel files within two hours. Broots would be chagrinned; Jarod decided to let him crack the code on his own.

The files were relatively straightforward. Lachlan Abbott was a MI6 operative. His career and excellent reputation as a photographer allowed him to travel widely and make interesting friends.

According to the records his sister, Margaret, became friends with Catherine Jamison Parker in college. Margaret worked for The Centre after graduating medical school. That was a surprise to Jarod. He never thought of his mother as anything other than a housewife and dedicated mother. She was a physician at The Centre, like Sydney, like Tommy Thompson, like Raines.

Jarod felt sick in the stomach. He was tempted to shut down the computer and try to pretend he never saw it. But he couldn't turn away; he just had to look. Lachlan had encouraged Margaret's choice of employer. MI6 found Centre operations very interesting but not dangerous to its purposes. They also found them hard to infiltrate. Lachlan hoped to use his sister to gather information at The Centre. Margaret apparently quit to have a family. She was allowed to quit the Centre? That was the extent of information on Margaret.

Lachlan had a private project, which was approved by his superiors. When not on assignment he investigated the kidnappings of his two nephews and similar kidnappings. He started searching intermittently when Jarod was taken; it became a mission after Kyle disappeared. He recorded that he did not believe individuals took both his nephews from his beloved sister. He moved Margaret and her infant daughter to Abbott Hall while he and Major Charles conducted independent searches. Margaret kept in touch with Catherine Parker and introduced Lachlan to the Raines and the Parkers in 1969.

There was little additional information on Lachlan Abbott, other than that his death was highly suspicious and the case was still designated active in MI6 files even though listed as accidental by the police. He died less than a year after meeting Catherine Parker and two days after her disappearance from The Centre.

Jarod shut down Ethan's computer with shaking hands. He felt like his stomach had turned inside out. He had to talk to his mother. He had to see her ask her hear her say it was a mistake. Or hear her admit that she had sold him, her own son, to The Centre. And he had to do it alone. Now he knew where to look, Abbott Hall.

Jarod returned the laptop to its case. He slipped back into Ceol Na Mara long enough to get his coat and gun. He intended to get Ethan's keys from the Inn kitchen and get away before Ethan or Parker woke. He was so focused that he did not see Lillias sitting at the table when he walked back in. She did not move, but her voice stopped him cold, "Where are ye goin', lad?"

He grabbed the keys from the counter and turned toward her direction, but did not meet her gaze. "I need to find her. Lillias, I need to confront her. Ask her. See proof. I can't believe it till I do."

"Aye, lad, I can understand that. But ye be putting yerself in grave danger."

He raised his eyes to hers, "I have to do this. She loved me; I know it. She loved me. I remember it, I knew it, I saw it." He clutched the keys so tightly his knuckles went white.

Lillias saw how much he was torn and it broke her heart. Maggie Abbott did not deserve such loyalty. "There be a woman sleeping in the cottage that loves ye now."

"You know what Parker's been through. She's exhausted. She needs to rest for longer than one night."

"Ye could wait."

Jarod smiled ingenuously, "I'm not that good at waiting."

Lillias stood and walked to him. "Ye don't want to wait because you're afraid of what might happen when they meet." She put a hand on his arm.

Jarod looked guilty. "Yes."

"I'll nae argue with ye, lad, but ye should beware. We told ye true about Maggie Abbott."

"She's my mother. She gave me life."

"And that may be the one true thing she's done fer ye." Lillias put her arms around Jarod and embraced him. She could not think of much else to do for him.

Jarod returned her hug; it almost stopped his leaving. "Take care of Parker. Keep her here. I promise I'll be back tomorrow." Jarod turned and left.

Lillias hardly needed the chill from her gift to know that was not likely.

Disclaimer in part one


The Truth Hurts
Part 24
by N.R. Levy and paula h


Margaret stood in front of the mirror in her master suite at Abbott Hall and stared at her own face. Calm was the best way to describe her look. Good, she thought. At least I look more in control than I feel.

Huffing, she turned and crossed to her chaise, sitting down in a heap. The very idea that she felt caught off guard or annoyed was only serving to make her more angry and flustered, and Margaret knew that just would not do. Yes, Parker regaining her memory was an obstacle, but had there not been other obstacles that seemed just as great if not insurmountable in her building of the Centre's empire? The list seemed almost too long to think back on, yet Margaret forced herself to do so in order to gain some perspective. The list of those she had bent to her will, Edna, Mr. Parker, Mr. Raines, Charles, and those she had eliminated when their curiosity could not be quelled, namely Lachlan, all of these obstacles had been dealt with in the manner required, delivering more power and surety to Margaret's cause.

Yet there had been one person who had slipped through her grasp, one person of whom she had ultimately lost control despite all of the years of successful cultivation and manipulation - Catherine. Certainly she had made her "best friend" dance to her tune for years, but it had been Catherine's curiosity and the discovery of her unique gift that had caused the biggest threat to Margaret's plans. True, thanks to Raines' interference, Catherine had been eliminated, but Margaret had to face the reality that in this one particular instance, she had lost the upper hand.

History could not repeat itself with Catherine's daughter.

Parker would be coming to Abbott Hall, and Margaret had to formulate a plan to get the woman back under control. And it was a far more risky proposition now than it had been when she'd discovered the Parker heiress knee deep in things Margaret didn't want her to know. Taking command at the Caer had been a fairly simple task. Parker had been caught off guard, her shock at discovering Margaret's complicity in the web of lies that was the Centre putting her off her usual guard. But Parker would be prepared for her this time, and so Margaret had to prepare in kind.

The child was, of course, the ultimate bargaining chip. If Margaret could construct a way of making Parker believe the child was in jeopardy, she had no doubt that the woman would quickly fall into line with her wishes. That child would mean the world to Parker, and not for the practical reasons of its importance to the Centre. No, the emotional bonds of motherhood that Margaret had so successfully avoided had already taken firm hold of Parker. Foolish sentimentality, but Margaret was grateful that it was a tool she could use against her foe.

She did not doubt that Parker would come alone. Jarod would be feeling too protective over his newly reclaimed "family" to allow Parker to come hunting for Margaret on her own, but Parker also wanted to protect someone, and that someone was Jarod. The way she'd spoken at the Caer about not letting Margaret hurt Jarod any more had tipped her hand. Another mistake of sentimentality. The younger woman would wait until her lover was asleep or distracted and then slip away. She would be alone, and though armed with suspicion and her gun, she would be vulnerable in ways she had not yet imagined.

Perhaps...yes, that was it. Margaret couldn't take the risk of brainwashing Parker again. Not only was it possible to cause irreparable damage this time, the child could not be risked. But she could use Parker's own gift against her. Yes, it could still work again. There were drugs, drugs that wouldn't harm the child but would keep Parker off balance. She could use the modified device that had once been place in Parker's room at Violet Penfield's inn and use it now to convince Parker of two essential truths...the child's life was in danger, and going back to Blue Cove was the only means of protecting it.

Yes, that was definitely the course to pursue. Parker would leave Jarod behind if it meant saving their child, and Margaret could round up her wayward son while Mr. Parker subdued his daughter back in the states. Once Miss Parker was back in the Centre, Margaret would return Jarod to the state of blissful unawareness that had once made him so valuable to the Centre, and this time, Margaret would do what she had failed to do with Catherine. She would convince Miss Parker that her child was, indeed, expendable.

It made sense, even if she would never want to have to go through with the threat. It would cost the Centre time and money. But she would have both mother and father at her disposal, and if need be, her next pretender could be made in a test tube.

Margaret smiled and leaned back against the chaise for a moment. She could only allow herself a brief respite from her whirling thoughts before it was time to make preparations.

After all, she had company coming.






The hours of chasing after Jarod and dealing with Margaret's machinations had definitely exhausted Parker, and the feeling of falling asleep in Jarod's arms again after so much separation had lulled her into a deep and contented sleep within minutes of her climbing into bed.

For the first time in weeks, she slept without the whispers of her mother or Cameron trying to will her anywhere and without the dark, frightening dreams that Margaret's brainwashing had left her facing day in and day out. Tonight she had dreamed a far different dream, one with her lying in Jarod's arms by the tree swing in the woods near her home. Cameron was newly born, perhaps a few weeks old, and he lay on her chest as her arms held him securely in place.

This time, there was no appearance of Margaret, no evil cackle of laughter as she tried to take possession of their son. Parker felt only the warmth of Jarod's body surrounding her and the soft weight of her baby boy resting upon her. They were relaxed and happy and in love. They were at peace.

Yet even as she enjoyed the sweet image, Parker felt something tugging her to consciousness. It wasn't the voices of her inner sense, or a nightmare, but some vague sense of something missing kept pulling on the fringes of her mind, telling her to wake up. Finally she surrendered, her eyes fluttering open hesitantly in the still dark bedroom. It took less than a second for her to realize what was missing.

Jarod.

Parker refused to panic. She stretched and climbed from the bed, pulling on the heavy robe that Alisdair had lent her when she'd arrived quite unprepared for how cold it could be at night. Quietly, in case he'd gone to work and fallen asleep in the living room, Parker padded out in search of Jarod. It was only after she'd made certain he was nowhere in Coel Na Mara that her heart began to beat more rapidly.

Shedding the robe for warm clothes and a pair of tennis shoes, Parker quickly scrambled up the walkway to the inn. Lights were on in the kitchen, and it made her prepare to admit she was overreacting. Jarod's stomach had probably lured him back here for more food, that was all. She'd walk in and find him talking Lillias' ear off or working on the computer with Ethan. It would all be all right.

Parker reached the back door and turned it, strolling into the room. Instead of being greeted with the sight she'd hoped for, she instead met the solemn faces of Lillias and Ethan.

"Aunt Lillias, is Jarod..."

"He's gon', darlin'. Gon' off to find the truth about where he comes from."





Parker could not move; her mind was jammed with questions. Lillias put a warm hand on her suddenly numb shoulder and guided her into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind her. Parker faced her aunt, eyes wide with disbelief.

"He's gone? But I thought he accepted what we told him, that we were convincing him of the truth?" in a plaintive tone of voice.

"He did, lass, he did. But he canna' believe until he hears it from the devil's mouth. He had t' go, just as ye had t' go after him afor. Some things seem destined, like ye and Jarod finding yer love."

Parker's mind was not on love, it was numbed by fear. "But where will he go? How will he find her?"

"I expect he'll go t' the family home in Penrith, Abbott Hall.

"But, Lillias, She will DO something to him."

"He is forewarned and he is better prepared this time, armed with knowledge of what she is."

Ethan added, "He has his gun."

Parker smiled at her brother and sat beside him at the table. Lillias bustled at the counter, getting biscuits and tea. Ethan put his hand over Parker's and she patted it with her free hand. Her thoughts started racing. At least Jarod had the gun, not much protection against his mother's machinations but it was something. Maybe once he saw that she had sweepers guarding her he would wait. But wait for what?

"How long ago did he leave?"

"Less than an hour."

Parker nearly jumped from her chair. "I have to go. Aunt Lillias, I have to go after him."

"Well, child that won't be quite possible. Jarod took Ethan's car and yers is nae workin'. Alisdair's truck is old and it's snowing and the truck is nae that good in snow."

"I have to go now."

"Aye, lass, I knew ye would want to. I've been thinkin' on the best way. The best way, as I see it, is t' take the train t' Inverness and rent an auto there."

"The train? But that's too slow. Isn't there some way I can get a car here?"

Not at 6:30 in the mornin'. And before ye say it, Ye'll not be stealing me neighbors autos." Lillias smiled as she placed a cup of tea and biscuits in front of Parker. "Now eat and we'll keep ye company. Alisdair will be about in a wee bit and the train does na leave for an hour."

Parker nibbled at the food to please her aunt. She was not hungry and there was a knot of fear in her stomach, riding just above her precious son. All were silent and Parker did her best to fight back tears.

Soon, though not soon enough for Parker, Ethan escorted her back to Ceol Na Mara. She dressed in the same clothing she came in. Dark and practical, made for sneaking about in the woods if necessary. She made sure her gun was loaded, then secreted it in a small carryon bag. She did not want to loose her weapon to a spying conductor.

Alisdair was in the kitchen drinking a mug of tea, when they returned to the Inn. He finished it off and went down to warm up the truck. Ethan refrained from offering his company. He and Parker had already decided he would stay at the Inn. Lillias murmured a goodbye and hugged Parker tightly. The older woman's worry was clearly written on her face.

Parker nodded her farewell, she was afraid to use her voice. She joined Alisdair in the truck.

Alisdair smiled as Parker climbed into the cab and tried to make small talk. "I'm sorry, lass, the heater is not up to the weather change. It'll be a cold ride to the station, but at least it be short."

Parker smiled at him. "Aunt Lillias," the name still seemed odd, "gave me a heavy shawl for the train. There's hardly need for a heater at all."

"Aye. "Yer aunt knits well and it's good wool. I have something small t' give ye, meself." Alisdair handed Parker a map. "It's marked fer the way t' Penrith. We would do more if we could." Alisdair cleared his throat.

"I know."

Their conversation ended and they drove the rest of the way in silence. Once they arrived at the station, Alisdair gave Parker a quick hug and a pat on the back before she boarded the train, and waved her off as the train pulled away from the station. Then she was alone again.



Jarod drove Ethan's car just slightly faster than was safe for road conditions. Keeping the car out of ditches kept his mind off other things. Things he did not want to think about, like the truth.

Unfortunately the weather improved halfway to Glasgow. Jarod spent the next driving hours reviewing everything he knew, or thought he knew, about his mother.

Exhaustion finally caught up with Jarod and he nearly caused an accident by driving on the wrong side of the road just past Glasgow. He had not slept in thirty hours and was emotionally worn out. He pulled off the road by a small copse of trees and turned off the engine. He leaned his head against the window and lost consciousness. Half an hour later he woke, groggily wondering where the hell he was and how he wound up parked on the shoulder.

Jarod pulled the car back onto the highway and found a café. His eyes were still bleary and he was chilled from the cold that had seeped into the car. The most important item on the menu was coffee. He ordered food as an excuse for taking up a table and downed a cup of coffee as soon as it was cool enough to swallow. The roast beef sandwich remained untouched. For the first time he could remember, Jarod had no appetite at all.

A second cup followed the first before Jarod felt reasonably awake and warm. He took a bite of the sandwich. Although it was excellent he could barely swallow it. He put the sandwich down and nursed a third cup of coffee while he watched a mixture of rain and snow pelt the window. He wanted to call Lillias and check on Parker. He wanted to call Parker and tell her he was sorry he left her behind. But he knew that she would say he should not have left without her. He did it to protect her from the stress of another trip; she needed to rest. And he did it to protect his mother from the woman he loved. God, what if it was all true? He rubbed a hand over his face.

Jarod finally gave up pushing the sandwich around his plate and returned to the car. He knew Parker was following him. He knew it would have taken her a while to find a car, but she would come. He hoped she had slept in, and that she would drive safely for the baby's sake. He had to find out the truth about his mother before Parker came. He had to put the past to rest before they could move into the future. If he was going to do that, confront his mother alone and see how she responded, he needed to get moving. Jarod filled up the tank at the petrol station next to the café and got back on the road. He still had over an hour of driving ahead of him.







When Erin Gordon woke she felt like she was hung-over from getting falling-down-drunk the night before. Even though her mind was fuzzy she knew that was not the cause, she was sick, very sick. She looked toward the window and groaned. The sun was rising; that meant that she had to report in to Maggie Abbott and go back to the Inn. She could not seem to rouse herself out of bed; instead she burrowed down under the comforter and pretended it was still dark.

The next time Erin pushed her head above the covers it was daylight. By the angle of the light she estimated midmorning. The phone was ringing. Erin did not get many phone calls; she was not Lochalsh's most popular citizen. The ruffians who frequented her bar only called themselves friends if you had the cash to pay for it. She knew who was calling and reached for the phone. It stopped ringing. She no sooner covered her head than it started ringing again. This time Erin let the phone ring and went back to sleep.

Two hours later Erin flailed her way from under the comforter and grabbed the phone on the 20th ring.

"Yes?" she croaked.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Margaret demanded. "You are supposed to be available at ALL times! Where are you?"

"I'm sick, Ma'am. I'm too sick to get out of bed."

"I don't give a damn if you die standing in the street. Get your ass out of bed and over to the Ross place."

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll try."

"Now, damn it, or I'll be sending the police an interesting package." Margaret cut the call.

Erin hung up her phone and forced herself to sit up. She doubled over coughing. Damn that Maggie Abbott! This was her doing, and the witch did not care if she died doing her dirty work.

Erin got up, dressed and got herself a mug of strong tea. She was feverish and achy. The cellular phone was recharged so there was no acceptable excuse for not returning to spy on Kinlock Inn. Erin donned her coat and boots and stepped outside. She trod fresh footsteps into a thin layer of snow all the way from her bar to the alley across from the Inn.

Erin was unpleasantly surprised to see just Alisdair's truck parked at the Inn. The only tire tracks in the snow belonged to that vehicle. Someone had taken the car before the snow took hold. But who was gone and where were they going? This was not good.

Erin was desperate. The witch would not abide these unreported changes. She saw movement at the rear of the house. Someone was about. She made her way to the back door.

Lillias was sweeping snow off the back porch. Her frown made it obvious that Erin's presence was not wanted. Erin tried to slip past Lillias but her path was blocked.

Lillias rounded on Erin. "What do you want, Erin Gordon, comin fer a visit uninvited?"

"Why, Lilli, sweet girl, I was just concerned. I heard that ye came back; so fast too. I feared somewhat was wrong. But ye look fit. It woudna be that Alisdair took sick again would it?" Erin scanned the kitchen through the window. She needed to know who was in the house and who was gone.

"I've seen lights on and cars so I knew ye had company." Erin looked for the company over Lilias' shoulder. Her gaze settled on Ethan. "And fine looking company it is. Tis late in the year for tourists though."

"They're not tourists and they be none o' yer business. So ye can be off." Lilias put her hand on Erin's arm; Erin shook her off.

"Now, Lilli, yer wouldn't chase me off with out a bit o' tea or an introduction."

A booming voice came from the doorway, "She might not, but I would. Be off wi' ye, woman, or I'll show ye to the way wi' a shove at yer back." Alisdair came out the door.

"Well, well, I can see hospitality is not important at this inn. I'll be tellin' the tourists that fer sure, come times they ask me where t' stay." Erin huffed, turned on her heel and walked down the steps. She wanted to heave a final retort at them but her voice caught in a coughing fit and the door slammed shut before she could catch her breath.

Still, Erin was smiling as she crossed the parking area and slipped out of sight around the corner. She pulled out her cellular phone and punched in Margaret's number. The phone was answered on the fifth ring.

Maggie Abbott's voice was gruff, "What is it now?"

"It's Erin Gordon, Ma'am. I have a bit o' news." Erin paused to cough.

"Well?" impatiently.

"The lass came back last night, wi' a tall, dark man. I don't see either o' them now. Th' car they came in is gone."

"Why are you only telling me this now?"

"I told ye, Ma'am, that I be sick, and the phone was na' workin' last night."

"Two poor excuses. So now I know someone left, but not when and not who?"

"I canna be sure because I'm not welcome at the Inn it seems. But Lillias and Alisdair be home, and the other man, Ethan, is still at the Inn fer sure."

"Well, I guess that's better than nothing." The tone of Margaret's voice matched her words.

Erin shivered, not from the cold. "I'll ask around town a bit and see if I can find out somewhat more, if ye want, Ma'am."

"And I'll just wait and see who shows up on my doorstep." Margaret cut the call.

Erin put her cellular phone back in her coat pocket and trudged home to make herself a hot toddy before she started on the Englishwoman's business.






Parker pulled her gaze from the window of the train as it pulled into the Inverness station. The two-hour train trip had seemed an eternity, with nothing to do but worry. Why hadn't he talked to her, told her what he decided, stayed with her? Half an hour of total anger at Jarod for leaving her behind; half an hour of self-disgust because she slept through his leaving; and an hour of impatience with her lack of control over the train and the situation. She glanced down at the marked road map. The fastest route to Penrith was already imbedded in her memory. It was difficult to remain in her seat until the train came to a stop at the platform.

Parker's mind constantly rotated around how long it would take her to get to Abbott Hall. It was nearly 10:00AM and Jarod left Kyle of Lochalsh before 6:00. Even with bad weather he would get to Penrith in less than two hours. It would still take her almost four hours to get there, and that was with moderate breaking of traffic laws. She did not want to endanger Cameron and she did not want to have to outrun the police in a strange car on strange roads. That meant Jarod would be alone with his Machiavellian mother for two hours, and God knew what Margaret could do to him in that amount of time.

Parker caught a taxi to a car rental agency. They told her all roads south were wet and well salted. She chose their fastest available vehicle, a Saab, found the nearest onramp, and pushed the pedal to the metal.






Margaret dropped her cellular phone onto the table beside her chaise. The conversation with Erin was not overly informative but it did tell her that Parker was coming, and much sooner than she expected. Margaret had wanted to speak with - manipulate - Parker alone. Jarod's presence would complicate matters, but not insurmountably. At least Ethan was not with Parker, even if Jarod was.

Margaret was a little worn out from the week's travels and skirmishes. She contemplated returning to the nap from which Erin woke her. Instead she called her butler, Nigel and told him to bring up coffee. Then she beeped Buchan, the sweeper-in-charge. He and the tea came to her suite a few moments later. She told him that Parker was coming and that it was up to him to coordinate and send out sentries to watch for her arrival. Margaret emphasized her demand for discretion. She did not want the neighbors to know who she really was any more than she had wanted Jarod and Parker to know who they were all these years. In addition she did not want Parker to know she was expected; more specifically, she did not want Jarod to know Parker had told him the truth. Seeing that she had her own sweepers guarding Abbott Hall would prove it. Margaret sipped her coffee and smiled ruefully; yes, the poor boy was definitely going to be disillusioned.

After dismissing the sweeper to fulfill his duties, Margaret decided to exchange her mommy dearest trapping for a power suit. She had to keep the upper hand in the impending confrontation. Parker had been so much easier to manipulate when she was younger. They had molded her and educated her, but they couldn't seem to eliminate that softness she inherited from her mother. A shame. At least she had inherited her mother's gift, the reason her father had married Catherine in the first place. He'd convinced Catie that he loved her; it became true after a fashion in later years. But the Parkers knew that power was more important than love and sacrifices had to be made to reach goals. The elder Parker was getting a bit soft as he aged, but Margaret had no intention of weakening, and her goal was getting nearer by the moment.





Just short of Penrith, Jarod pulled Ethan's car off the road and hid it. He could see the roofs of the town over the winter-bare trees. It would not be sensible to drive up to the gates of Abbott Hall. Assuming his mother was there, he would either endanger her or - if Parker was right - himself. Discretion was the better course. He hopped a ride on the back of a lorry hauling hay and used the bales for cover.

The truck had barely gone a mile before Jarod saw a dark car on the side of the road. The suited driver appeared to have engine problems. He was older than when Jarod saw him at The Centre, but Jarod remembered the sweeper. Jarod had been fourteen; Sydney was taking him to be inspected by some visiting triumvirate dignitary. The man was on the elevator when they entered. Jarod had noted his visitor nametag. Sydney had politely asked if the man was enjoying his stay in Blue Cove. The man replied in what Jarod now knew was a Scottish accent, that it seemed a bonny little town but he preferred London himself. The wording and accent had caught Jarod's fancy but the man's unusually long face and nose made him easily recognizable when he glanced up at the passing lorry. Being right about the need for secrecy did not please Jarod. The Centre was waiting for someone, who remained to be seen, but Jarod was determined to remain unseen until he saw his mother. He jumped off the truck when it stopped at an intersection, and waved thanks to the driver.

Abbott Hall sat on a rise to one side of Penrith, just before a wooded area and fields. There were several grand old houses in the vicinity; obviously the moneyed gentry had gravitated to that corner of the town. The majority of the estates were in good repair. Abbott Hall was not the largest nor the smallest, it was set apart mainly by position on the rise and the wonderfully ornate gates that secured its driveway. Jarod made his way via alleys and side streets; then circled behind through the woods.

A fine cold drizzle started. Jarod climbed a leaning tree tangled with vines for a look inside the wall. No one was patrolling the perimeter and the house had no obvious surveillance equipment. It appeared to be - was - the family's peaceful manor; a refuge that The Centre had not defiled. Jarod saw movement at window and slid off the tree. He moved a few yards down the wall and climbed over it. Dropping into some bushes he moved quickly to the house.






Margaret was ready for Parker. She was over-ready, and wasting adrenaline on pacing. She decided to leave her suite and go downstairs. Settling in the dining room, she scanned a few Centre reports. She had the cook make her a pot of Earl Grey and a small plate of biscuits. She was considering a short walk around the grounds when a light rain put an end to the idea. She had no intention of appearing bedraggled when Parker arrived. Margaret took her cup of tea and walked to the window. The grounds looked well kept even in winter, but the woods beyond the wall were overgrown. Before she left she would tell Nigel to speak to the farmer who owned the property and offer to have the trees thinned a bit. He could, naturally, keep the wood. She finished her tea and was about to turn away from the window when she noticed movement in a tree. Too large to be a cat; black panthers had not migrated to Britain, and Parker was not one to climb trees; Margaret knew who it was. She put her cup on the table, put on her raincoat, and went out onto the courtyard to meet him.






Jarod was impatient to get to the house so he forced himself to be doubly cautious. He froze when he heard the sound of a door opening. He counted to a hundred before he moved to a better vantage point. There was a woman standing on the veranda, scanning the grounds as though seeking something or someone. She had her hood up but he knew it was his mother. He wanted to run to her instantly but hesitated, not knowing why. After a few moments he stood and walked out of the bushes.

When she saw him, Margaret smiled and took a step toward him. He knew she had been watching for him. He came to her and stood tentatively wondering what to do or say.

Margaret hugged him. "Oh, Jarod, I was worried about you. I'm sorry I ran away, but I was just so frightened. I knew you would find the Hall, I hoped you would come." She looked over her shoulder. "Is Parker with you?" she asked in her best concerned voice.

"No, I left her..." he trailed off, not sure he should involve the Rosses.

"Left her? Did you have an argument?" Margaret put worry into her voice while she thought 'that would make things a bit easier.'

"No, Mom, we're fine. I just thought she needed a rest. But I'm pretty sure she won't be pleased." Jarod half-smiled.

"Well, I know you made the best decision possible. She should trust you." She paused. "Maybe The Centre has ruined her ability to trust?"

Jarod's smile disappeared. He knew how difficult it was for either of them to trust after their upbringing. But Parker trusted him, didn't she? And he had betrayed that trust by coming here without her, without even explaining.

Satisfied with his reaction, Margaret changed tacks. "Are you all right? Come inside, Baby, you look half-frozen." She bustled him into the house. "Let's go into the den where we can talk." She pushed the hood off her head but kept the long coat.

Jarod looked around as they walked through several rooms. The cook spared them a glance when they passed through the kitchen; there did not seem to be anyone else in the house. He looked at the woman confidently striding ahead of him, head held high. "Are you sure you're safe here?"

Margaret turned and smiled. "Yes, Jarod, in this place I'm perfectly safe," She could not keep a note of smugness out of her voice. She knew Jarod caught it by the way his shoulders twitched. She decided to let it ride; there was no way he could escape from Abbott Hall. Nigel and the cook knew to contact her sweepers when an unannounced visitor appeared. The sweepers would close the net. Now she had an even better bargaining chip then a potential child.

Margaret guided her son to a windowless, mahogany paneled room. Two walls were shelved with books; a large stone fireplace took up a third. "This is one of my favorite rooms. Let's get that coat off and get you warm." Jarod took the coat off but kept it. She settled him in a wingchair by the fire. "Jarod, baby, are you hungry?"

Jarod shook his head no, unable to take his eyes off the seemingly transformed woman.

"Well, you definitely need a hot cup of tea." She smiled, patted his arm and left the room.

He gazed at the door after her exit, trying to correlate what he thought he knew about his mother with what Parker told him and what he was seeing. For some indefinable reason, something about his mother in Abbott Hall, he was starting to believe Parker. Could it be that The Centre had poisoned them so completely they had to doubt everyone's motives; misinterpret their actions? Jarod rubbed a hand across his forehead; he was so tired.





Margaret tore off her coat and threw it in a corner. She was sure Jarod had a weapon in his coat and she had wanted to get it away from him. She was sure she was in no danger from him but it would be inconvenient if he started shooting up the Hall.

She strode into the kitchen to find the Buchan blocking the outside door. She told the cook to get tea ready before she turned to the sweeper. "I want to know how he got in here without your knowing it and I want to know where he left the car. Then I want the car brought here." She paced the kitchen while she spoke. "And I DON'T want Miss Parker waltzing in here unannounced. If she'd come over that wall she could have shot me before you idiots woke up." She stopped and looked out the back window for a moment. "Put Fergus on the car search. Get the rest of them back here; put two outside the den." Margaret walked back to the sweeper. "If Jarod decides he doesn't want to be here I want him stopped. If any of your idiots screw this up, you're dead." She punctuated the last with a finger to the man's chest.

He nodded, knowing better than to speak when she was in this kind of mood.

Margaret took the tea tray and left the room without another word. She set the tray down briefly on the dining room table and pressed her finger into the center of her forehead. She was getting tired of this dance. She needed to decide how to best control Jarod; she was tempted to just drug him. Instead she straightened her suit, checked her hair in the mirror, picked up the tray and went to tell her son the truth about his mother.

Jarod turned as his mother entered the room. She shut the door behind her and set the tray on a small table just behind Jarod's chair. She poured him a cup of tea, handed it to him, and sat on the arm of a wingchair that matched his.

Jarod held the delicate teacup in both hands. He looked down at it but did not take a sip.

"Drink it, Jarod, and then we'll talk," she encouraged.

When Jarod looked up he saw her as she really was. He had never seen her dressed in a tailored suit with her hair pinned up and back. The woman he was looking at was not a simple loving mother; she was a Centre psychologist; a woman of confidence and great power. Parker's words came back to him, the things she had endured, trapped and helpless, at the hands of ... this woman. The Margaret Abbott in front of him was capable of inflicting that torment. She had been waiting for him on the veranda; she had manipulated him all along. He shivered.

Margaret noted his look and the shudder; she went for concern. "Jarod, baby, you need to drink the tea."

"Is it drugged?"

"What?" So he believed.

"Is the tea drugged? Will I drink it and wake up tomorrow back at The Centre?" He put the cup down hard enough to rattle.

"How can you ask me that?" She feigned shock, wanting to see how much he really knew.

"It's true, isn't it, Mother?" Suddenly the word tasted bitter on his tongue. "I've been blind. It's all true, everything Parker told me. You drugged her and took her memory. You've been playing with us all our lives."

"I have never played with you, Jarod," she replied coolly. "I've done what was necessary, for a higher purpose. You may not understand it, but this has never been a game."

"Understand?" His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "How can I understand? You pretended to love me, you pretended to love Dad and want us to be a family and all the time, ALL the time, you only cared about The Centre."

"Love is highly overrated. It gets in the way of many things. Power is what's important. I know you deny it but I've seen you enjoy power over others. You're just a little too nice, a little too soft to wield it properly.

"That negative aspect must go along with some of the genes for pretender ability. You got most of them from your father. You got the rest from my side of the family. Your Uncle Lachlan had some ability and the same softness." The smug look returned to her face. "Those genes are why The Centre recruited me. They thought they could use me like they did Catherine, but I saw through them and saw what The Centre could do. Catherine did, too, but she was too soft. We kept her around as long as we could, until she became too much of a liability. But she did produce the daughter who is the future of The Centre. The next Chairperson and the one who will bring The Centre to its rightful place."

Jarod stared at her. He felt as though his blood had turned to ice.

"Not that you haven't been valuable. You have no idea how much revenue we made from your pretends and from the adaptations other, lesser pretenders did using your seminal work. I'm actually quite proud of your accomplishments." She put her hand on his wrist.

"Liar." He threw off her hand.

"No, that's true. The loving mommy role was just for effect, but I have always appreciated your talent. And I must add that I appreciate your recognition of the truth, I was not looking forward to a maudlin confession."

"What am I to you?" his voice was bitter.

"The prince consort, my dear, and father to the next generation."

Jarod felt bile rise in his throat. He had come into the spider's parlor and probably dragged Parker and their baby after him. He'd played right into this spider-woman's plans. He reached into his coat and felt for his gun. "How will my shooting you affect your plan?" he threatened.

"You won't do it, Jarod." Margaret smiled smugly. "You forget how long I've been watching you, son. You may want to use that gun in your coat but you just don't have the heart for it."

Jarod stared at her. He hated her, wanted to kill her before she could hurt Parker or his son, but she was his mother and he could not harm her. She was right; he was too weak. He released the gun.

Margaret knew she had won. "Are you willing to be reasonable?"

"I won't help you." Jarod's voice had a kind of tired bitterness that spoke surrender. He turned away from her to stare at the fire.

"I don't really require any help." She stood.

Jarod's head snapped around.

"Actually, you have already helped by coming here without your woman. Parker will be coming along to 'rescue' you again. We'll be having a little talk and she will see the light, or someone may have to die."

Jarod started to rise. "I won't let you hurt her."

"Spare us the heroics, Jarod. I have no intention of killing her. As I said, she's the future Chairperson of The Centre. But, I assure you, she will choose power before any of us leave here. Now, give me that gun." She held out her hand.

Jarod turned away defiantly.

"I can call four burly sweepers with tasers. You've experienced that already, haven't you? This is a no win situation for you, Jarod. Take your loss and save yourself injury. There are two sweepers outside this room; they'll escort you to a comfortable cell in the basement for the duration. I promise to talk to you later."

"Don't bother. I never want to see you again." Jarod dropped his coat on the chair and walked ahead of his mother to the door.

Jarod opened the door and confirmed that his mother had told him the truth this time. Two sweepers stood at attention opposite the door; two more, with tasers, blocked the front door and he could see more at the dining room arch. He considered trying a break for it anyway. He wanted so badly to keep Parker from coming here. He was a pretender and he knew there was no chance he could make it, but every muscle screamed for a try.

The nearest sweepers tensed as Jarod exited the room. Margaret gestured a negative and they took positions on either side of Jarod. One put a hand on his arm and Jarod ripped it away. That was all the trigger his adrenaline-saturated nerves needed. He punched the offending guard square in the face, turned and backhanded the opposite man. The first sweeper made a move to grab the pretender and he elbowed him before he gave sweeper two a glancing blow to the chin and punched him in the gut. Sweeper one caught Jarod's arms while the second recovered and started in for payback. One of the taser-armed sweepers moved toward the struggle.

Margaret intervened. "Enough! Jarod, enough! Stop it now! All of you stop it." She ordered.

Jarod stopped struggling. He stared at the carpet, breathing heavily.

The sweepers looked to Margaret for orders.

"Release him."

They did as she told them. Jarod glared at Margaret so coldly that even she felt the chill and turned away. "You two get him out of here. And keep your hands off him."

Jarod silently allowed the sweepers to shepherd him to the basement.

Margaret returned to the den and removed the gun from Jarod's coat. She checked his key ring; the small silver key was not there. Parker must have it again. Margaret was tired of this absurd version of Monkey-in-the-middle. It hardly mattered now that Jarod knew who she was. There were a few things she preferred he never learn. She had seen the results of his anger and he would be angry if he knew everything she had done.

She held the coat for a moment then draped it across the back of the chair where Jarod had been sitting. Jarod's hatred was no surprise. It was expected, 40 years in the coming; it made no difference in the scheme of things. But the small ache his look had caused in her heart surprised her. She smiled slightly, uncertainly, and then shook her head. It was a tad late for maternal emotion. She smoothed the coat and left the room.

The head sweeper, Buchan, was waiting for her, leaning against the back of the couch where the other two had stood. "Did I miss anything?" he asked. Years of working for her allowed that much informality. Years of good work allowed him to survive the day's blunders.

"Nothing useful. I assume your presence here means we have a secure perimeter this time?"

"Yes, we found a lorry driver that gave him a ride into town." He conveniently left out the fact that the truck drove right past him and he had not checked it. "Jarod was alone when the man picked him up. An Internet search showed that Miss Parker rented a Saab in Inverness at 10:30 this morning. We located the car using its theft tracking system. At her current rate of speed she will be here in an hour; I have the helicopter up to keep an eye on her. She's driving a bit too fast for conditions."

Margaret nodded approval. "That's her usual driving. And Jarod's car?"

"Should be coming in the front gate as we speak." He held out the coat Margaret had thrown on the dining room floor.

She took it with a half-smile. The man took too many liberties. He probably felt he earned them because of the extra services he provided her on the occasional night. Perhaps later she would reprimand him for the impropriety.

Fergus pulled the car into the drive as Margaret walked out the front door. He drove it up to her and got out.

Margaret contemplated for a moment, tapping her chin with a finger then came to a decision. "Park the car in the driveway in plain view. Leave the gates open. Fergus, you greet Miss Parker on the porch."

Fergus did as he was told.

Margaret went to her rooms for a short time then to the den. She called Nigel. He arrived shortly after and stood silently waiting while she turned on a small screen with video feed from Jarod's cell.






Jarod sat on the bed with his face in his hands. As though he could feel the weight of his mother's observation, he looked up at the video camera. At least the woman had the decency to make his surveillance obvious. Not like when he thought he had some privacy while The Centre recorded his every move. He noted the light was on now and assumed that was for Parker's benefit.

He stood and the camera followed the motion. He had already examined his quarters. They were small, clean, no window, small ventilation shafts and one reinforced door. When the door opened briefly for someone to bring in bottled water and a coffee carafe he saw at least three sweepers. Jarod had smiled at his mother's precautions, she may have played him for a fool but she did not underestimate him.

Jarod could not find any fault he could use to his advantage so he would have to wait and hope something presented itself. Present? Yes, he had made his mother a present of himself and dragged Parker and their son in with him. "God damn it," Jarod said aloud as he spun around in the middle of the room. "God damn me!" he yelled and punched the wall. The plasterboard crumbled, revealing a stone wall behind it, now stained with a bit of his blood.

Jarod stared at his hand. There was something satisfying about the self-inflicted damage. When the pain set in he stalked into the bathroom and ran cold water over his knuckles until the bleeding stopped. Once his hand was numb Jarod returned to his former position on the bed. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the camera.

Margaret watched the entire process. Satisfied, she turned to Nigel. "How long till she arrives?"

"Ten minutes or less."

"I'll wait for her here; she comes in alone. Tell Fergus to stop at the door. Everyone stays out."

"Everyone, Madam, are you sure that's wise?" Nigel was concerned.

"Everyone. I'll allow Buchan to listen in," Margaret held up a small microphone, "during initial negotiations. I expect to be in control of the situation but it's better to be cautious. I don't want Miss Parker injured, at least for the present. If there's a problem, he and only he may intervene."

Nigel nodded.

"Now, bring a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits. I want it in here before Miss Parker pulls in."

Nigel nodded again and left the room.

Margaret settled herself in the wingchair. She glanced from Jarod's coat on the opposite chair to the screen where she could see his face. Yes, this would do nicely. She relaxed into the chair and contemplated the fire.






Parker saw the helicopter long before she got to Penrith. She had visualized a surprise entrance, gun in hand, and a look of shock and dismay on Margaret's face just before she blew her brains out. But she never really expected it. Parker refused to think about what she really expected; she concentrated on keeping the car within waving distance of the speed limit and various scenarios of Margaret's death.

A black sedan replaced the helicopter just as she entered Penrith. She caught a glimpse of the driver before he took a position her six. She recognized him. She had seen him giving orders to other sweepers at the Caer, but she knew him before that. She had first seen him when she was a girl, in her father's office. He had reappeared intermittently over the years. She recalled that Daddy had never been pleased to see him or the person he accompanied.

Now she understood that Margaret Abbott was the person who upset her father, perhaps even frightened him. If she were honest she would admit that Margaret frightened her. When she thought about what happened at the Caer she nearly gagged on her fear, but that would not stop her from walking into Abbott Hall and taking her life back.

When Parker pulled up to the open gates and saw Jarod's car she felt her anger rising. She pushed it back down. That was the reaction the witch wanted, her too angry to think straight.

Parker skirted Jarod's car and pulled up to the front door. The black sedan pulled in behind her and the sweeper closed the gate. An older man rose from a chair on the porch and came to the driver's side door. He opened the door and stood back. Parker remembered seeing him at various times around Inverness, perhaps at the Caer, some things were still unclear; he was somber and non-threatening.

Parker got out of the Saab and the man closed the door.

"Fergus," he said, putting a hand to his chest. "I've been told t' escort ye t' the Mistress."

Parker nodded.

"I'm sorry, lass, she has him in there somewhere, in one o' her rooms. And she be waitin' fer ye."

Parker nodded again.

Sweepers flanked the front door and waited inside. Fergus guided her to the den and opened the door. He dropped his head as she passed and shut the door behind her.

Parker took in her surroundings quickly. Her gaze came to rest on the video screen and Jarod. He was just sitting there, staring at the camera. He knew she was coming and, by the look of self-disgust and despair she read on his face, he knew what his mother was.

Margaret herself was sitting in a wingchair by the fire. Her back was to the room but her legs were visible. Parker pulled out her gun.

Margaret heard the sound of metal against leather and smiled, unseen by Parker. "If you shoot me, you die."

"You first."

"Watch the screen." Margaret picked up a small cordless phone and spoke into it without turning away from the fire. "A small demonstration please."

On screen, Jarod sat forward and looked at something off screen. A hand appeared and backhanded Jarod across the face. He fell sideways and came up ready to fight. The camera range widened to show three sweepers in the room. Two quickly pinned Jarod's arms behind him; the third flexed his fists and punched his palm.

Parker went ridged, "Don't."

"Good. At least you realize I'm willing to do what's necessary. The question is, are you?"

"You think this is necessary?" Parker asked with disbelief. "What could possibly make this necessary? What do you want?"

"I want, I need, you to take your place in The Centre." Margaret replied. She spoke into the phone, "Enough for now. Get out." She put the phone down and spoke to Parker. "Sit down. We need to come to an agreement." She reached beside her on the couch and turned off the microphone that transmitted to Buchan. The preliminaries were over.

Parker watched the sweepers release Jarod and leave the room. He looked at the camera as though he could see her and shook his head negatively. He returned to the bed, this time sitting sideways to the camera and closing his eyes. Parker knew how tired he was of being a Centre tool, especially one used against her.

Parker strode tensely to the wingchair with Jarod's coat draped over its back. She stroked the garment as she passed. She sat, stiffly upright compared to the seemingly relaxed woman in the other chair. Her gun remained in her hand in her lap.

Margaret turned to face Parker. "You have choices to make. They are limited and you have to make them now."

"Choices." Parker doubted she would like any of them.

"Basically, your child or its father."

The hair went up on the back of Parker's neck. "What do you mean?"

"There are several possible scenarios. One, you come back of your own freewill and take your place at the helm of The Centre. Jarod comes with us. I wipe his memory and he goes back to what he does best, pretending.

"Two, I abort the pregnancy and wipe both of your memories. You come back to The Centre. Jarod is released elsewhere and the chase continues.

"Three, I take you back against your will. Allow your pregnancy to come to term, take the child and raise him or her to take your place. The process can be repeated as necessary. Oh, and in this scenario, Jarod is not particularly necessary; semen can be frozen.

"These scenarios have one thing in common, you are coming back to The Centre. That is non-negotiable."

"You can go to Hell."

"No doubt. But I'm giving you the power of life and death, the ultimate power and you must make a choice."

Parker's hand tightened on the gun; she thumbed the safety off. "I should kill you right now."

"Jarod made the same suggestion. That would actually be a fourth scenario. And remember, if I die Jarod dies and you will not be raising his heir."

Parker reset the safety and released her hold on the gun. "What if I refuse to decide?"

"That is a choice in itself. Allow me to point out the basic differences in these arrangements, in case they are a bit too much for you to grasp. If you want both Jarod and your child to survive you must cooperate with me and become the next Chairperson of The Centre. If you want Jarod and don't give a damn about the baby, you can continue chasing him until you get tired of it and take the desk job some time in the future. If you have some sort of Romeo and Juliet delusions or just want to be stubborn, you loose everything. And The Centre raises the child you will never know."

Parker felt Cameron's presence keenly within her. He had no choice in this; he was hers to protect. The bitch had them in a vise. "If. If I decide to join forces with you," she nearly gagged on the words, her mouth was so dry, "what then?"

"Then you will learn the true uses of power. And when you prove to me that you can be trusted with that power you'll have it."

"What about my son?"

"It's a boy? Congratulations. He will have quite a legacy."

"I don't give a damn about that legacy. I want him to know his father."

"Did Jarod know his father? Do you really know yours? He is never to know who his father is. The Centre will be his father and mother, whether figuratively or literally is up to you."

Parker stared silently at the older woman; then turned away. She wanted so badly to kill her, end this all right now. She knew there was an afterlife because she heard her mother's voice. She and Cameron were already connected and would know each other despite anything Margaret did. And she knew they would all be reunited in the next world, some time in the future. But Margaret was right; it was a bit too Shakespearean. She wished she could call on her mother's voice; she needed to hear it now.

Parker stared at the fire and tried to find another alternative. There literally were none. Margaret had spelled it out. There was only agony, and no reason to prolong it.

"Yes, I will go back to The Centre...willingly."

"Good. I won't gloat about it, Parker, it was the only intelligent decision." Margaret nodded sincere approval. "Now for the rest of the rules."

"I will have Jarod's memories of this period expunged. This is the last time I am willing to do so. Further treatments could cause cognitive damage, making him useless to The Centre except for genetic material.

He will be returned to The Centre and his duties. You are never to have contact with him, except in the most formal sense. Any personal contact will result in his death. Is that clear?"

Parker nodded.

Margaret continued, "You will not tell him the child is his. If he should discover that truth, Jarod and/or the child will be removed from The Centre. This means that your faithful trained monkeys had better keep their mouths shut or you loose. You are responsible for their education on that. It would also be advisable that they never learn about our agreement. As far as they're concerned you've finally come to your senses and dropped the lab rat.

"If Sydney feels he can adequately manage Jarod and re-establish clinical objectivity he will be allowed to supervise his former protégé. If he cannot, he will be reassigned with no prejudice. Raines may want take over the job..." Margaret paused, suddenly thoughtful, "but I think I might. It's been a long while since I've had time to do any research.

She returned her attention to the subject at hand. "If - and this is very tentative - you prove yourself to be the leader you were bred to be, there may be a time when you will be allowed to rekindle your sexual relationship with Jarod, should you still want to. I think you will find using him an interesting juxtaposition of roles."

Parker was totally speechless. She found herself gripping the gun too tightly and forced her hand to relax.

Margaret studied the younger woman for a moment. "Now for the first action to prove your commitment to the deal you will go down to Jarod's cell and tell him your decision. You will not tell him the reasons, just the facts. This will be your last contact with him. Do you understand?"

Parker took a second to regain the power of speech. "I have to tell him? I want to explain. You're going to wipe his memory anyway, at least let me explain."

"No, this is part of the deal."

Just a part of the deal, Parker thought, and she had to destroy the rest of Jarod's dreams. God, this was more than he could take; more than she could take. Jarod would think she was sending him back.

Margaret did not rush Parker. They sat and watched the fire slowly die. Parker leaned back against Jarod's coat and breathed in the scent of leather and him. She kept one hand on the gun; the other rested on her slightly rounded stomach and the son who might never know his wonderful father.

When the flames had died and the logs become an almost molten turmoil, matching her thoughts, Parker rose from her chair. She felt the gun in her hand. If she was careful she could slip it to Jarod. He could at least make his own decision...

As though she read Parker's mind, Margaret said, "Leave the gun."

Parker placed her gun on a side table and stroked Jarod's coat in passing. Chills ran up her spine as she turned her back on Margaret and walked out of the den.

The man who called himself Fergus was gone. The sweeper from the car, she would learn his name later, waited for her beside the couch.

Buchan spoke first. "I will escort you to your rooms. There's a selection of more appropriate clothing and toiletries. You may wish to freshen up before meeting with Jarod."

Meeting, Parker thought, what a poor description of what she was about to do to the man she loved. She followed Buchan up the grand staircase in the front hall.





Margaret remained in her wingchair for several moments, contemplating. She groaned as she pushed herself off the chair. Winter in Britain made her feel she was getting too old for this espionage routine. It would be good to get back to Blue Cove and take her rightful place at the helm of The Centre.

Margaret walked over to the video screen and turned on the sound. She wanted to watch.




Miss Parker's quarters were well appointed but all she noticed were the windows. They were not barred. She could see the woods and fields beyond the wall; if she did not know the truth, she could imagine she was still in Scotland and none of this had happened.

There was a small selection of short-skirted suits and tailored pants outfits neatly hung in the cupboard. Matching shoes and boots were lined up below. All had come from her house in Blue Cove.

Parker chose a looser pantsuit and low boots, and was pleased to find that they fit. She went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and smoothed her hair. Someone had also brought her makeup in her usual Centre palette. She applied it heavier than she had for a while and looked at herself. The Ice Queen was back. She almost started crying.

There was a bottle of Chanel on the counter. Parker reached for it as a matter of habit but then changed her mind. Jarod loved that perfume; she did not want it to become a part of his nightmares.

Buchan awaited Parker where she left him, leaning against the wall opposite her door. He nodded approval for her transformation as he pushed himself away from the wall. He led her down two flights of stairs to the basement and stopped at the bottom.

Parker continued down the hall. She knew her destination by the sweepers blocking the door. They parted when she got there. She took a deep breath and entered Jarod's cell.


Jarod's head came up when the lock clicked. His first glimpse of Parker brought him to his feet and a step toward her. His heart literally skipped a beat he was so relieved that she was safe.

Parker walked tentatively into the cell. She had planned to stride in confidently but her legs did not oblige. When she looked at Jarod coming toward her, and saw his childish loving expression, she almost lost her nerve. "I'm sorry, Jarod," Parker stopped before her voice cracked.

Jarod stopped. He studied her. She looked hopeless for a moment, almost frightened, and then the iron mask came over her face and he knew she was lost to him. He stood still, waiting for the sword stroke he knew she would deliver. "Just tell me, Parker, what's happened? What are you going to do?"

Parker saw realization on his face and fear and, finally, acceptance of the fact that she was Centre property once again; they all were. She ignored the first question. She steeled her will and forced ice into her voice. "I'm sorry, Jarod, I've decided to return to Blue Cove and The Centre."

Jarod was incredulous. "Going back? Why?" Then he grew angry. "She's making you do this. What's she done? What's she threatened?"

"I'm doing this because I've decided to. I cannot spend the rest of my life chasing a dream around the world or running from The Centre. It could never have worked. You tried for freedom, but you couldn't completely separate. You dragged me into your dream and for a while I believed it. Margaret pointed out the futility of that dream and the reality I might throw away." Unconsciously Parker's hand migrated to her waist. "I'm going back to prove myself to Margaret and my father. I need to atone for my stupidity."

"So I was," Jarod motioned between them, "what we shared was stupidity?"

"I made a mistake."

"Our son is a mistake?" Jarod was anguished.

"My son will inherit The Centre. I'll give him what he needs to survive. He will be strong and he will understand power. I will raise him as a Parker."

"He's ours, Parker!" Anger began to creep back into his voice. "The Centre can't have him; you said so. I won't let you..."

"You are in no position to 'let me' do or not do anything, Jarod. Look around you. I will not have MY son follow in your footsteps. He won't be raised without a mother or spend his life running."

"No, he'll be raised without a father; by a mother who aspires to be just like mine," he snarled.

"So be it. That's the way it is and you won't have to worry about it."

Parker turned on her heel and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. When she was halfway down the hall she had to lean against the wall. She thought she was going to collapse. Buchan appeared from somewhere and steadied her until she was stable enough to shake him off. She forced herself to walk up the two flights of stairs unassisted and closed the door in his face. She locked the door and collapsed on the bed.





After Parker left him Jarod sputtered and fumed. He almost punched the wall again but when he made a fist pain lanced through his hand, and through his thoughts. He turned to the camera and swore. He called his mother and Parker more names than he thought her knew. Then he threw himself onto the bed and turned his back to the room.

Margaret smiled. Today had gone quite well. Jarod definitely believed Parker. He might doubt her veracity later when his anger cleared and he was rested, but for the present he thought she had lied to him about their relationship.

Parker had done quite well, very believable. Margaret intended to remember that when she weighed Parker's commitment to The Centre and their deal.

Margaret walked back to the side table and pressed a call button. She stood, one hand fondling Jarod's coat, and watched the dying fire collapse upon itself.

Nigel entered the den and stood in the center of the room, behind Margaret.

She knew he was there. "I'm going up to my rooms. Bring up a light supper. Then pack my things; I leave in the morning."

"Yes, Madam."

"Get a sweeper in here to monitor the video."

"Yes, Madam."

"Tell Buchan to come to my suite when he's through with Parker. I will give him his orders."

Nigel lifted an eyebrow slightly. "As you wish, Madam."

Margaret dismissed him. She patted Jarod's jacket. Poor man. Wiping his memory could be a blessing on many levels. She left the jacket and the den and leisurely climbed the stairs to her rooms.






Margaret sat on her chaise after eating supper accompanied by two glasses of wine. She was nursing a third when Buchan knocked lightly on her partly open door and entered.

"How is Miss Parker doing?" Margaret asked without turning from the sunset she watched through her window.

"As well as one might expect, Miss Abbott. I took the liberty of entering her rooms a few moments ago; she was sleeping."

"Good. I assume you have a sweeper outside her door?"

Buchan walked up behind the chaise. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Whatever she needs or wants is hers, understood? ...Within reason of course." Margaret rubbed the back of her neck. It and her back were both stiff.

"Of course." Buchan began to massage her neck.

Margaret picked up her wineglass. She used her free hand on the intercom. "Nigel?"

"Yes, Madam?"

"I want Miss Parker's supper brought up as soon as she contacts anyone. See to her packing as soon as she's eaten. You may tell her she leaves tonight but don't engage in a discussion with her."

"Yes, Madam."

Margaret released the connection.

"Buchan, I want a suicide watch on Jarod. I think he's matured enough not to try it this time but he did once and he is bright enough to find a way if he wants to."

"Already in place," he replied. Buchan's fingers found pressure points to release tightened muscles.

Margaret thought back to the time when Jarod and Parker were hormone-intoxicated teenagers, bored with their boundaries and far too inquisitive for their own good. Parker was fourteen, Jarod slightly older, when they started experimenting with sex. Did Jarod take advantage of her? Hard to determine. They had been thrown together all their lives in hopes something would develop; the experiment was a bit too successful. A pregnant Miss Parker would have been a disaster back then. Separating them was the only solution.

Memories of that period were wiped along with their adult affair. Parker had been confused, too young to fully understand the repercussions, she was chastised and sent away by her father. Jarod had been guilt-ridden and dejected. He became obstinate and refused to work. Nevertheless, his attempt at suicide had been a surprise. Margaret was not in the mood for any such surprises now.

Buchan's ministrations to her neck and shoulders were rapidly improving Margaret's mood. "I'm taking Jarod back in the morning. Will Miss Parker be ready to travel before or after? I have no intention of allowing them on the same flight."

"In my opinion she'll be anxious to get out of here. Tonight if you wish."

"Yes," Margaret nearly moaned as Buchan released a particularly sore pressure point in her neck. "You go with her. I want to be sure she feels properly cared for."

"My pleasure, Madam," Buchan breathed into her ear. He continued the massage.

Margaret sipped her wine. "Pour yourself a glass," she said, pointing to the iced wine and an empty glass.

Buchan did as he was told but only tasted it. He knew he was still on duty; he always was when in her presence.

"There are just a few last touches to complete this episode, Margaret continued. "Send Fergus back to the Caer. He can stay there and keep an eye on the Jamison clan. He can otherwise mind his own business and that order extends to Donal. Let that traitor stew for a bit; I'll get my use out of him later.

"Send sweepers to Kyle of Lochalsh, I need to know where Ethan is and what he's doing. They stay until they can catch him away from the Rosses. Leave one of them on watch for the duration. Erin Gordon has not done a very good job of repaying her debt to me." Margaret thought a moment. "Send a cleaner there."

Buchan extended the massage to Margaret's arms and hands, coming around to the front of the chaise. He nodded understanding.

He took both her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Anything else?" He removed Margaret's hairpins and brushed her hair back with his fingers, massaging her forehead and temples.

"Parker may stay at her own house but suggest she stay with me for a while. Either will do.

"She has to go to The Centre before I arrive with Jarod. She knows what needs done there." Margaret closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. "If I think of anything else I'll tell you."

Buchan returned to massaging her shoulders, opening a button at the back of her blouse as he did. "Are we done now?"

Margaret nodded.

"Then I should go and pack," he said roguishly, stepping away from her.

Margaret turned and grasped his lapel. "That waits. We need to speak about your impudence earlier." She pulled him along with her as she backed toward her bedroom.

He smiled and loosened his tie.

Yes, she thought, he takes far too many liberties. She would show him who was boss. This had turned into a very agreeable day.






When Parker woke two hours after she fell into her bed, she could not remember how she got there. She could not remember anything after the look of horror and rage on Jarod's face as she turned to leave.

She lay and stared at the ceiling for another hour, tears occasionally slipping down her cheeks to wet her hair. Hunger finally forced Parker out of her stupor. She sat on the edge of the bed and derided herself. Hungry? How could she be hungry? She had just destroyed the man she loved. She had collapsed their lives to save Cameron's life. She rested her elbows on her knees, her head on her palms. She felt a small fluttering movement. Was it Cameron? It might be too soon, might be her imagination, but the small life within her had caused her hunger and he gave her the will to endure.

Parker got up, took a shower and dressed. She opened the hall door and told her guard she wanted something to eat. Nigel appeared ten minutes later. He told her she was leaving as soon as she was packed and commenced packing for her. She did not feel like talking to one of Margaret's subordinates and she would not believe anything he told her anyway.

Parker remembered something Margaret had said to her at Caer Erract. If she could destroy that which she loved more than life itself, then she would be ready to take her place as Chairperson of The Centre. She had, and she would take that place. But she would see that witch in Hell before she was done; no matter how many years it took. And she would see that HER son knew who his parents were. She could pretend to be what Margaret wanted. And she would pray that Jarod could someday forgive her for sacrificing their future.





Jarod lay with his back to the room for hours. He did not want Parker or his mother to see him cry. If they saw his tears they would think they had finally broken him. It was close, he felt broken, but he could not surrender. After a time the tears stopped. His eyes lost their swelling and he was left with only the pain in his hand and his heart. Running cold water over his fist would ease that hurt but there was not enough ice in the Artic to cool the pain and loathing he felt.

How could she have done this?

Jarod wasn't sure which "she" he meant. His mother was beyond conscience, beyond evil. She embodied all The Centre was, a hollow pit of power and greed that did nothing but destroy. Yet he had not been able to kill her.

And now Parker had turned on him, spit in his face, and embraced that selfsame monster. She was giving their son to that beast; tendering their future for power. And in his heart, behind all the anger, he still loved her and knew he always would. In some way that made him hate her a little.

Jarod knew there was a sweeper in the room. One had been stationed in a corner chair since shortly after Parker left. Margaret must be concerned that he would do something foolish. The thought had crossed his mind, but it seemed like deja vu. He thought of various ways to do it with the materials available and with the list came the filmy vision of having considered all these things before. He knew he had tried it, when he was much younger, and obviously failed. He remembered Sydney's horror and apologies for not recognizing his intentions. And The Centre had taken that memory too.

Jarod rolled over and stood in one motion. The guard nearly fell off his chair. Caught him napping, Jarod thought with gratification. Given enough time you could catch anyone off guard, even The Centre.

Jarod recognized the man as a Blue Cove resident. "When do we go 'home'?" he asked. He walked into the bathroom and noticed the door no longer shut completely.

The sweeper watched his reaction to the discovery before he replied, "In the morning."

"Good." Jarod slashed water on his face and returned to the bed. He wondered if Margaret would be traveling with them; for some reason he felt Parker was already gone.

Jarod pretended to sleep. He was exhausted but there was something he had to do before he slept, before they wiped his memory of this time with Parker. He lay quietly and repeated 'Cameron is my son' over and over in his mind. He used every memory trick he knew. The Centre had taken his memories before; he would not allow them to take his son away from him.

The Truth Hurts
Part 25
by paula h and N.R. Levy



Disclaimer in Part 1



Lillias had helped Ethan understand himself a great deal in their few days together at Kinlock Inn. They spent hours talking while she taught him how to live with his gift. He had found his family, Jarod and Parker, only a short time ago. In some way he had always known them, but he not realized who or what they were. Once he found them, he thought they were all the family he would ever have. Now he found that he had aunts and uncles and cousins. Still, Parker shared his gift and, emotionally, he felt closest to Jarod.


Ethan knew the second Jarod recognized his mother for who she was. After Parker left that day Ethan could not keep still. He was tense and worried about his brother and sister. Lillias finally talked him into eating a bit of lunch when he suddenly stopped, just stopped, with a glass of milk poised inches from his lips. Lillias knew by the look on Ethan's face that something terrible had happened. She waited while Ethan stared into space. When he came to himself a few minutes later she did not need to ask.


"He knows," Ethan said softly. He focused on Lillias. "Jarod knows the truth."


Lillias nodded solemnly. She felt this would have a bad ending. Still there was hope; Parker was going after him.

"She has him, Aunt Lillias, I should have gone with Parker."

"Parker wanted ye t' stay here, lad. She be fair formidable by herself."

Ethan asked. "Could you check on her car please? Just in case."

"Aye, laddie, Alisdair went down this mornin'. When he comes home he'll have news fer sure."

Ethan lost what little interest he had in eating. "Would you mind if I went for a walk, Aunt Lillias?"

"No, lad, but stay close. There be evil sneakin' about in the town and I would prefer ye stayed away from it."

"I'm just going down to the sea. I won't be gone long."

Lillias gave Ethan a quick peck on the cheek as he picked up his coat and went out the back door.

Ethan walked longer than he planned. He was nearly back to the stairs that led from the beach to Ceol Na Mara when he felt Parker silently scream in anger at Margaret Abbot's deal. He felt her capitulation and sorrow. He stumbled up the steps as she walked down to Jarod's cell.

Ethan made his way to the Inn, where Lillias sat waiting for him, and fell to his knees. He felt both his half-siblings' pain and his voices were wild in his head. He heard his mother trying to comfort him. Her voice and Lillias' joined as an anchor to keep him sane.

Lillias also knew the instant Parker stalked into Margaret's trap. She knew when Parker considered choosing death for them all. And she was relieved when Catherine wrapped both her children in the warmth of her love. All that time; all the time she waited for Ethan to come to her, she repeated assurances to him in her mind; all the time he knelt before her, his head in her lap, talking to the voices, she whispered them aloud. "It will be all right, me luv. Ye will make it all right. I know ye will," over and over as a mantra.

Ethan heard, and when he finally came back to reality he asked, "Do you really know, Aunt Lillias? Or are you just saying it? Can you see it?"

Lillias smoothed Ethan's hair back from his anguished face. "The future be in a mist, me luv, but I see ye standin' strong and I see Maggie Abbot in fear o' ye. Even she knows there be somethin' about ye that will bring yer family together."

Ethan just nodded. He lay his head back in her lap but he was calm now. "I have to go Aunt Lillias. I know where she's taking them and I have to go."

"Aye, lad, it be time." She continued to stroke Ethan's hair as she looked up at Alisdair. He had just gotten home and stood solemnly watching the scene unfold from the doorway of the sitting room. "Where's Ian?" she asked.

"I left him at the garage, playing wi' Jimmy's lad."

"Good. This would frighten him. But I want him safe here soon. Maggie has the two of them now. I fear her thoughts may turn t' a bit o' revenge afore she goes t' America. And how's Jimmy comin' along wi' the auto?"

"Jimmy says it'll be done t'day, two more hours or less. An' ye know he reckons pretty close t' true."

"Aye, an' a good thing too. I feel like as Ethan needs t' be gone before that woman turns her attention this way."

"I'll bring Ian back when I takes Ethan by the garage," Alisdair added. "And ye, Lilli, be ye all right?"

"Aye, me luv, we'll all be all right." She continued to stroke Ethan's hair.

After a time the three people in the kitchen grew stiff in their various positions. Alisdair went to the cellar to attend to a few things. Ethan got up and went to pack. Lillias busied herself with making tea and a bit of food for Ethan to take when he left. Alisdair sat down and had a mug of tea with Ethan. Then he took the younger man to get Parker's car.

Lillias walked them to the door, scanning the neighborhood for signs of Maggie Abbot's presence. She saw none and was pleased to not see Erin. She would never see her again; no one would.

Ethan started down the stairway to the parking area in front of the Inn. He turned around, ran back up the steps and embraced Lillias. "Thank you, thank you." He looked soulfully into her eyes. "I love you, Aunt Lillias."

Lillias smiled. "I ken ye do, lad," she kissed him on the forehead, "I've known it all yer life." She patted him on the shoulder as he left her. She spent the rest of the day praying for his safekeeping and the deliverance of the two at Abbott Hall.



Miss Parker ate supper in her room while Nigel packed her clothing. He rolled a large Pullman out with him when he left. Half an hour later Buchan walked into her room without knocking. True to Nigel's statement that they would leave as soon as she was packed, Buchan told Parker they were leaving immediately,

Parker picked up a small overnight bag and strode past him to the door. "I'm more than ready. What took you so long?" she asked without looking back at him.

He smiled secretly to himself. "Miss Abbott required my services. I apologize for making you wait."

"Will Margaret be joining us?"

"No, she has other plans. She told me to take good care of you."

Parker eyed him quickly, trying to determine his meaning. Buchan's small smile seemed relatively friendly for a Centre creature. "I don't suppose taking care of me would include allowing me to drive off into the sunset?"

"No, I think not, Miss Parker. An escape attempt would serve no purpose and I value my life a bit too much to release you."

Parker grunted grudging acceptance of the truth. She appreciated his honest answer. She would bide her time, at least until she was on home ground.

Margaret did not appear for a send-off. Parker was relieved.



The drive to a small private airport was silent. Two sweepers joined their group, plus two doctors and their assistants. Parker recognized them from her procedure at Caer Erract. Their appearance gave Parker an anxiety attack that she hid as well as she could. Once they were settled in the Centre plane and in the air, Buchan handed Parker a small pile of files to review so that she could catch up on transactions at The Centre. He told her to start at the top and work her way down. Well, well, back to work already. Margaret wasn't wasting any time before assimilation began.

The flight to Delaware was long and mind-numbing. Parker could not concentrate on anything. She only read five rather boring files before the words blurred. She flipped through another five till she found one even worth reading. By that time she was getting twinges in her back.

Cameron was growing daily, and lately Parker had noticed it by the extra pressure on her bladder and lower back. She stood and stretched, gaining instant and appreciative attention from her all male companions. She walked up and down the aisle several times but it did not help, and passing the lab staff made her jittery. She sat down again.

Buchan asked her if she needed anything. She declined. Later he offered her food, which she refused. He started an in-flight movie, but Parker was not interested. She leaned her seat back and tried to get comfortable. Buchan brought her a blanket and a pillow. She curled up and stared out the window until she dozed off.

Parker did not sleep well or long. She startled awake to find Buchan seated beside her, watching her. "Something entertaining?"

He smiled. "You were restless and mumbling in your sleep."

Parker pushed off the blanket and adjusted herself in her seat. "Did I give up any state secrets?"

"I heard a couple names, Jarod as expected, and Cameron. Since I've never seen that name in your file, I assume he's your future child?"

"It's none of your business."

"True, and no one else's either. I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"Decaf." Parker was slightly stunned. It was just a small secret but she was surprised that he would offer to keep it, and suspicious.

Buchan returned with the coffee and Parker stared at him while she sipped it. "Don't think this changes my opinion of you. We're not going to be buddy-buddy and I'm not going to confide in you."

"I would be shocked if you did. I know a good deal about you, Miss Parker, and I have no misconceptions about your capitulation. Unfortunately for you, neither does Miss Abbott."

"Is that a threat?" Parker's hackles were raised.

"Not at all, and you can pull in the claws. I am merely the messenger here. Miss Abbott asked me to extend you an invitation. I would advise you to think about it before you say anything."

"I think you're more than a messenger and I think you should remember that I will be Centre Chairperson soon."

"When you've walked through the valley of the shadow of death for forty-some years, Miss Parker, you find mere tigresses restful." Buchan's amused smile was genuine.

"Your mistress is a snake."

"True, or possibly true. She is what she is. You've been with The Centre all your life. Do you find her that different from any of the others in power?"

"She sold her own son, and now her grandson for... whatever it is she really wants."

"You'll learn what it is. I have no idea...and that's the truth, but keep in mind that your father was in on this from the very beginning."

Parker could not respond to that indictment. It was true, her father had allowed her memory to be wiped, her happiness to be stolen. He should have protected her. And she was not even surprised to learn that he had not. Was Margaret so much worse?

Buchan changed subjects. "As I said I am courier of an invitation; Miss Abbott would like you to stay at her compound in Blue Cove." He saw Parker's reply boiling up and cut her off. "Don't respond hastily. Remember your position. If you refuse she will have your every move scrutinized. You will never leave your house without supervision and I guarantee you will never have a private conversation. You need to prove yourself." He got up abruptly. "I await your decision," he finished as he left her and walked to the back of the plane.

Parker calmed herself. The thought of staying with Margaret, the thought of being near her at all, nauseated Parker. But Buchan was right, she had to prove herself and, if that meant staying with the bitch, then she would. At least he was not forcing her to capitulate the point immediately; it could wait till they landed. Buchan had given her that tiny crumb. She was grateful for it. Maybe even grateful enough not to kill him when she finished off the bitch.



Sydney wandered among his bonsai trees and tried to shake off the odd feeling that had plagued him all night and into the day. He felt guilty for having made Jarod feel guilty during their phone conversation, and it wouldn't stop troubling him. He knew that he and Jarod had often said things to make each other uncomfortable during his years of freedom; it was nothing new. Still, something in Jarod's voice had seemed more, more...Sydney wasn't sure what the word was, but he sensed it wasn't good. Jarod had said things with Parker were fine, that she was all right. He'd even said she had some good news "about family." What that meant, Sydney couldn't begin to imagine, but he supposed anything that was good news for either of them was long overdue.

Sydney was just about to begin trimming another tree when Broots came skulking into the room, his head whipping from side to side to see if they were alone. Though he adored Broots, the technicians dramatic, over-the-top mannerisms were sometimes so amusing it was difficult not to laugh, even in the mood he was in today. This was one of those times, and Sydney let out a slight chuckle as he spoke.

"Did you find aliens doing an autopsy on Kennedy's missing brain?"

Broots stopped short, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Kennedy's brain really disappeared?"

Sydney laughed again, this time less gently, and Broots rolled his eyes as he realized he was being teased. Sydney's laughter calmed and he looked pointedly at his protégé. "What is it, Broots?"

He leaned closer to Sydney and said in a conspiratorial voice, "When you spoke to, you know, did...was there any mention that someone might be coming home?"

Narrowing his eyes, Sydney reached up to trim a branch on the bonsai in front of him in case the wrong people were watching them right now. "No, nothing like that. Why?"

Broots looked back over his shoulder and then back at Sydney. His voice was even lower than it had been before when he spoke.

"Because I found an order for a Centre car to pick up Miss Parker at the private airstrip, tonight. What do you think that means, Syd? I mean, he said she was okay, right? So why is she coming back here?"

Sydney shook his head, unable to think of a reason that would make any sense unless what she and Jarod had found in Scotland demanded that one of them return to Blue Cove for answers. The sound of Broots' voice broke up what little chain of thought Sydney had been able to put together.

"What do you think they're gonna do, Syd? She's been gone a long time, and Mr. Parker is not happy about it."

"I don't know, Broots. I really don't know.



Jarod woke with a start, to find himself in almost total darkness. He heard a chair leg scraping on the tile floor and knew he still had company in his cell. So, it wasn't a dream, he was in Abbott Hall and his mother was its mistress, mistress of the caer, mistress of the darkness, and mistress of his fate.

Jarod berated himself for getting caught again. As a result he had condemned his son to follow in his footsteps. He groaned aloud at the thought, and hid it by rolling over and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He had repeated Cameron's name to himself so many times he had lost count when exhaustion finally got the best of him and he fell asleep. Was it enough? What else should he have done? What could he try? Jarod rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and ran fingers through his hair.

Jarod's temporary cellmate stood and stretched. He walked over to the door and tapped on it. A small slit opened and the sweepers spoke briefly. The lights came up.

Jarod squinted. "I guess this means it's morning?"

"About three. The mistress of the house said not to wake you till five."

"Big of her." He scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"She also said that I was to get you moving whenever you woke up. The other guys," he pointed toward the door with his thumb, "will pass on the news."

Jarod rubbed at his two-day growth of beard. "Am I allowed to shave or is my mother afraid of what I might do with a razor?"

"There's a battery powered shaver in a bag in the bathroom. There's also a change of clothes and a few other things you might need."

"Am I allowed any privacy?"

"Not really." The sweeper dropped his eyes briefly, and then looked Jarod in the eye.

It was futile to argue, orders were orders and a sweeper was first and foremost a Centre man. Jarod pushed himself off the bed, stood and stretched, flexing his muscles for effect.

The sweeper took the hint and stayed where he was, with no line of sight into the bathroom.

Jarod showered, shaved and dressed. The sweeper was waiting for him, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Jarod tossed him the bag. "Here, make yourself useful."

The sweeper caught the bag smoothly and without comment. He tapped on the door again; this time it opened. Jarod followed the other man out of the room. Four additional sweepers waited in the hall. All wore the requisite dark suits and overcoats. One handed Jarod's guard a coat as they passed. Jarod hoped they would give him his jacket before they cuffed him. It was nippy in the unheated hall, which led him to believe it was cold as heck outside.

Margaret was waiting for them at in the front hall, dressed in a brown suit and camel coat. She had Jarod's jacket folded over her arm. The sweepers led Jarod up to her and stopped slightly back. Jarod stood stiffly in front of his mother and stared through her.

Margaret smiled. "You look rested and ready to travel."

Jarod did not respond.

"You'll need this jacket." she held it out. "The temperature dropped overnight."

Jarod silently took the jacket and put it on.

Margaret's smile broadened. "That's better." She motioned the sweepers out the door before she continued. "Pouting is pointless. You won't be making things difficult for me, only yourself."

"Then why should you care?" Jarod focused on her, his anger still hot. He held out his hands, wrists together. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Actually, if I wanted to restrain you I would've had you drugged and carted you back on a gurney. I expected mature behavior. You're disappointing me right now." She allowed her irritation to show. "I'm not cuffing you, Jarod. But if you try to escape or start another fight I gave the sweepers permission to defend themselves...with prejudice. Clear?"

"Crystal," he growled.

"Good." Her smile returned. "I won't insist you cooperate, at least not yet, but you will be well-mannered. Surely Sydney taught you manners. You will speak civilly to me, Jarod, even if you hate me. You can pretend that we've already come to an understanding, can't you?"

"You forced me to do sims all my life, I guess one more won't kill me. If you could pretend to be a loving mother, I can pretend anything, after all I am your son."

Margaret found the venom in Jarod's voice amusing; he knew he was powerless and hated it. She knew he would try to rectify that situation. She had seen interesting changes in Jarod during his interlude of freedom. The need for, and enjoyment of, power were among them. Margaret studied her son for a moment. He might have more of her in him than she thought. "Yes, perhaps you are. Let's go." She touched him lightly on the sleeve.

Jarod pulled away from her and walked ahead to the car. The sweepers were in place and geared up for trouble. Jarod planned to disappoint them. He calmly walked to the car and held the door open for Margaret. She flashed him the same bright smile that lit his best dreams. Anger obscured his thoughts; he could have killed her in that instant, instead he numbly followed her into the back seat.

The drive to Glasgow Airport was uneventful. Jarod spent it considering the random math of frost patterns on the windows and watching the morning light dance on the ice coated grass and trees. He put most of his energy into blanking out Margaret's presence.

Jarod was polite and stoic while they boarded the Centre corporate jet. Margaret tried to engage him in conversation after takeoff but he pointedly concentrated on the view out the window. He pretended to doze off a few times while he ran through the memory routines again, but he could not actually sleep.

Margaret spent the majority of the ten-hour flight working. She placed several phone calls but accepted only one, eight hours into the trip. After listening to the message, all Margaret said was "good." Then she looked at Jarod, who was patently watching her, and smiled. He turned away. If it made her smile he did not want to know.

Margaret made another effort at conversation as they approached the east coast and Jarod rebuffed her once more. This time Margaret did not let it ride. "At some point you know you will have to talk to me."

Silence and the back of his head.

"You might find it advantageous to court my favor rather than defying me."

Jarod knew that was true but he could barely tolerate sharing air with her. He could see the reflection of his anger in the plane's window. He gripped the seat's arms and kept his head turned away from her.

Margaret was annoyed. "I wish I could give you time to get over yourself but your brother, Ethan, complicated things, destroyed my plan and forced my hand. Raines' abomination should never have been born. He can't be controlled or reasoned with, and just when I thought he was eliminated you saved him."

Jarod sneered. "Screwed your plans, did we?"

"Miss Parker is being far more reasonable." She paused, waiting for his reaction.

"Reasonable?" he asked her reflection. "She just went back to all the family she's ever known or wanted. I trusted her and I believed in both of you. I never want to see or talk to either of you again. Get away from me."

"So much for manners. You know, Jarod, this behavior only confirms my initialopinion that your memory must be wiped for you to be productive again."

He finally turned to face her. "Like you need an excuse."



"You might give me an excuse not to do it, but you won't. You refuse to understand. You've had this opportunity before and made the same decision...and lost. I hate to waste the insight you've gained; loose the experiences you've collected out in the world, but continued surliness cannot be tolerated."



"Fuck you." Jarod turned away. He swore at himself for his outburst. He should have groveled, done anything, to keep his memory, but he could not bow to the woman who had orchestrated the hell that was his life. He would be almost glad to see Raines again if it meant not having to see his mother.



The single phone call Margaret accepted during the flight was from Buchan. The "good" message was that they were about to leave the compound for The Centre.

Parker had arrived in Blue Cove at midnight and was taken directly to the compound. She had long passed the point of exhaustion and hardly remembered the drive. Emotional turmoil and jetlag made her slightly disoriented. Her biggest impression was that the grounds were large and the house modern and made mostly of windows. Nonsensically she wondered if washing them was part of her penance. She smiled at the thought and Buchan gave her an odd look.

"Just happy to be home." She said. She knew he did not believe her but he accepted the remark.

Buchan and Nigel's American butler clone insisted that she eat a bit of soup before she went to her rooms. She had no appetite until she swallowed the first sip. She ate two large bowls of chicken and barley soup plus a turkey sandwich and a big glass of milk.

When Parker went to her small suite she found all her things had arrived before her. The room was set up nicely, including a bottle of calcium based antacids on the dresser. She took one, just to be on the safe side. Then she took a long hot shower and fell into bed.

Parker's body was still on European time so waking in the morning was not a problem. Bracing herself to go to The Centre was. Her first mission was to say hello to Daddy. Sydney and Broots were next. They knew they had a meeting scheduled, but thought it was with Mr. Parker. They were in for a surprise, even if they found out she was coming back. She wondered how much, if anything, Jarod told them before he dumped himself into Margaret's lap.

Parker chose a suit based on shortness of skirt, and a pair of heels that meant business. It was better to let them know she was back in full force. She had little appetite but used breakfast as an excuse to delay leaving. No one was pushing...yet.

Buchan excused himself and made a call while she was nursing her coffee. God, she hated decaf. When Buchan came back he informed her that Jarod and Margaret would land in Blue Cove in approximately two hours. They needed to get moving.

Arrival at The Centre caused an instant stir. Stares and whispers followed Parker as she strode swiftly through the lobby. She did not talk to anyone. She especially did not want to run into Sydney or Broots. She was going to have enough trouble convincing them that this was what she wanted; a public explanation was out of the question. Best to head straight for her father.

Parker arrived at the familiar double doors and stopped to take a deep breath. She had walked through these doors before, her heart sensing the lies her father told her, lies her mind had ignored. The denial was over now. She knew that her beloved "father" had conspired with Margaret to manipulate her entire existence. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, to scream at him, but now was not the time. Today she was putting on a performance for her new mentor, and it would be a first-rate show.

She was just about to open the doors when she heard a set of footsteps approaching her from behind. She expected to turn and find Buchan waiting to escort her inside. Instead, she came blue eye to blue eye with one of the only people she would be glad to see inside this horrible place.

"Welcome home, Miss Parker."

Sam. Stalwart, dependable and loyal Sam. Parker hadn't even spared him a thought during her time away from the Centre, so focused had her thoughts been on Jarod and the secrets they had sought. But now, seeing him, Parker felt the edges of her nerves smooth over just a bit.

"Sam, how have you been?"

"Well, working for your brother doesn't improve my disposition much, but thankfully I've been reassigned."

Parker fought hard not to let anything show on her face. So, they were taking Sam away from her, too.

"Where are you headed?"

"I believe the Tower Directive said, and I quote, 'Sam will take his orders solely from Miss Parker until further notice.'"

Neither of them could let the smile they wanted to share come to the surface,but they each knew it was there. Sam had been beyond frustrated during Miss Parker's absence, frustrated that wherever she was, he wasn't there to watch her back as he always tried to. He had failed her in that over the years, twice, specifically, when Mr. Raines had made certain he would fail. Sam was determined that there would be no third incident. He didn't know what had transpired over the past few months, or what had brought her back, Sam was only glad to return to the one job in this place that didn't make his stomach turn into a knot.

"Well, then, Sam, I have a meeting with my father. I'll meet you in my office in half an hour and you can catch me up on what I missed."

"Half an hour, ma'am," Sam said, turning on his heel and striding down the hallway with all the confidence of the sweeper of the most feared woman in the Centre. Parker felt a shudder inside her body at the thought. Most feared inside until Margaret arrived and made her presence known.

Mr. Parker was just finishing up a call with the Russia office, his voice thickly accented as he spoke to the director there, when his eyes were drawn to the opening of his office doors. He almost dropped the phone when he saw his daughter stride into the room, her presence as strong and room-filling as ever. Why was it no one had told him she was returning? What had Margaret done to bring her back here, and why the hell hadn't that damnable woman warned him?

Biting out a cutting Russian dismissal, Mr. Parker hung up the phone and quickly moved to his daughter, his arms outstretched, his patented fatherly-concern-filled smile on his face.

"Angel, I've been so worried about you. Where have you been?"

He reached her and took her into his arms. As she felt him pull her close, Parker reminded herself why she was doing this and, thinking of Cameron, she wrapped her arms around her father just enough for the action to be called an embrace.

Mr. Parker didn't miss the lack of enthusiasm in his daughter's hug. He stepped back, looking at her with real confusion on his face. Was all this symptomatic of the memory wipe Margaret had administered to her, or was something he didn't know about at work here?

"Angel, is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Daddy. Why wouldn't it be?"

He stepped back again, eyeing her carefully. She looked physically well, her trademark clothing and makeup in place. Still, he sensed something off in her.

"Where have you been, Angel?"

"I'm sure you'll be getting a full report soon."

"I will," he asked, "from whom?"

"Your friend in Scotland. She'll be more than willing to fill you in completely when she arrives with her treasure."

Margaret, she was talking about Margaret, but if the memory wipe had held...Mr. Parker suddenly felt a tightening in his chest. Margaret was prone to sudden power plays. Was this one of them?

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid I don't know..."

There was a limit to how much of this game she could play, and Parker sensed that what Margaret really wanted to know is how much she would reveal here. It would be indicative of how "on board" Parker was with their agreed to plan. She doubted Margaret expected perfect compliance, and banking on it, Parker put her hand up to her lips in a motion indicating silence to her father. He stopped speaking, a furrow gathering in his brow as he took in her gesture.

"Daddy, what do you say we just get things back to normal around here. You can pretend to be a loving father and I'll pretend to believe you."

His eyes widened. He had lost control of her, and he knew it, and he knew who now held it.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Daddy, I have a lot to catch up on." She leaned forward and placed her customary parting peck on his right cheek. Stepping back, she dropped her eyes to the floor momentarily. What she'd really wanted to say to him was, and I'll pretend to care. God, she hated that even after everything she had learned, she did still care. She turned, heading for the door and making her way back into the hallway. Reflexively, Parker's hand moved to her abdomen and gently brushed over it. I will never let anyone take away your freedom, Cameron, she thought, I promise you.

She hadn't truly felt her son's thoughts since her memory had returned, though his presence was always with her. As she started down the hallway, however, she was certain she sensed a small voice answer back to her, "I know."



Margaret did not allow Jarod's sullen outburst on the corporate jet to spoil her good mood. She returned to her seat, content with the fact that Parker was cooperating. Jarod's obstinacy could be dealt with in a number of ways, not the least of which was the memory wipe she had originally planned.

Still, Margaret reflected, Jarod's travels had changed him. Her little boy in a man's body had grown up. Warped, as all children of The Centre were in one way or another - living too close to a source of power could do that - but really much improved over the genius simpleton he was before. Perhaps seeing the world in grayscale rather than his previous black and white version did it, or finding that punishment meted out by his own hand was exhilarating.

It had been some time since Margaret was personally involved in Centre operations. Pulling distant puppet strings was safer and more productive most times, but it was boring. Mr. Parker and Raines did enjoy their little power games, she had to give that much. It was time for a few changes.

Thoughts of running her own games at The Centre brought a smile to Margaret's face. She reclined her seat and settled herself back. She dozed, safe in the knowledge that she was in charge of her fate.

Changes in the engine noise roused Margaret. A short time later the landing gear deployed, and the jet landed without incident.

Margaret stretched and glanced at Jarod. His jaw was working and he swallowed more often than necessary, but he was calm. He had been through this before, and was worried about what awaited him. She caught his eye and he dropped his head slightly. Probably regretting antagonizing her before, she mused. Good, Margaret thought, she had been more than accommodating in her terms and was not offering again.

A limousine and a town car waited at the side of the runway. Buchan waited beside them. Jarod was led somewhat reluctantly to the first vehicle. Margaret seemed unmoved as she walked to the second. She spoke to Buchan for a moment and they exchanged a bit of paperwork. She left in the town car, alone.

Buchan joined Jarod and several sweepers in the limousine. He signaled the driver to move out. Once again, the scenery riveted Jarod's attention. The drive was relatively short and Buchan was content with silence.

Jarod wanted to know what was waiting for him. After a few minutes he could not suppress his curiosity. "When did you get to Blue Cove?" he asked, looking directly at Buchan.

Buchan considered Jarod for a moment. "Late last night."

"I assume Miss Parker was with you?"

"She was." Buchan paused to see if Jarod would ask. When he did not, the sweeper added, "She went back to The Centre this morning."

"Eager to get back to work, I'm sure," Jarod grumbled.

"She had appointments. She has some...explaining to do." Buchan crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jarod's reactions closely. A report would be expected later.

"Will she be 'there' when we walk in the door?"

"Doubtful, but she'd have no reason to tell me."

"Did she say anything about...?" Jarod literally bit his tongue; he had not meant to ask, to let Margaret's man see his pain.

"Did she mention you, boyo?" He chuckled for effect. "She told me to make sure you were safely ensconced in yer rooms. And she told me she's in no hurry to see you again."

Jarod looked at Buchan, trying to decide if it was the truth. Buchan's smile revealed nothing. "Who will be there? Raines?"

Buchan uncrossed his arms and leaned toward Jarod conspiratorially. "Now that I do know. Your mother conveniently arranged for Mr. Raines to be in Switzerland and Mr. Lyle to be in Hong Kong. Some problem with Centre accounts." He smiled. "She knows how to arrange things."

"She's had years of practice."

"Yes, she has. You may think you can outwit her, but you'd be mistaken. She's bested many who thought they were smarter than her and she's bested you, if you must know."

"So it would seem." Jarod returned his attention to the window, where the roofline of The Centre that was just visible.

"Not now; you did that one to yerself. I mean she knew everything The Centre knew about you all along, and we've tracked you down once or twice ourselves while you were out running around. She knows you, Jarod, at least as well as your dear Sydney."

"Then why didn't you bring me back?" Jarod was still doubtful.

"Because as long as you were out, Miss Parker was in. Miss Abbott hoped she would choose to stay in." Buchan stopped; he felt he might have said too much. "And now she has."

Jarod missed the inference; they were pulling onto Centre grounds and he was preoccupied. "Yes, she has." He found it hard to think or even breathe. The conversation was over.



Sydney and Broots walked quickly toward the Tower elevator and their imminent meeting. Originally they had expected the usual inquisition by Lyle or, more recently, Mr. Parker. Now they knew Miss Parker was back - they would have had to be on Sublevel 40 not to have heard the news - and they were eager to attend. The grapevine said that she had already been to her father's office and gone straight from there to the Tower. First and foremost they both wanted to see her. They had missed her and worried about her when she was gone. They worried more now that she was back.

The fact that they were meeting her in the Tower rather than her office was unsettling. So much so that Broots was silent after an initial attempt at small talk. He exited the elevator two steps behind Sydney, scanning the empty hallway and closed doors. They walked toward the only open door, a mass of etched glass and brass.

Broots touched Sydney's arm lightly and cleared his throat twice before he could speak. "I've never been on this floor. I thought it was restricted. Are you sure this is the right place?""

Sydney smiled to himself. "I'm sure. I've never been on this particular floor either. An elevator key has always been required to exit here. Apparently things have changed." He wondered about their privileged status.

"Syd, is it me or is it awful empty up here?"

"It is, but that is not necessarily a bad sign, especially if Miss Parker arranged for privacy. But remember, Broots, we may still be under observation."



Parker posed herself leaning slightly against a heavy glass and brass table; she crossed her long legs at the ankle and pretended she had not just stopped pacing when she heard the ding of the elevator opening.

On the way to The Centre Buchan had told Parker that her base of operations had moved, at least temporarily, into one of the offices in Margaret's Tower suite. The way the sweeper looked at her when he passed on the information led her to believe it was a non-negotiable decision. Most of her experience was with windowless T-Board rooms. She had never been on this floor; the elevator did not even open here...until today.

Alone, except for the comfort of Cameron, Parker had pressed the button and waited. The doors opened to darkness. The lights came up automatically. Trust Margaret to inject a touch of drama. She exited the elevator and walked, with the familiar click of heels on marble, to the only glass, and only open, door.

The large reception area was carpeted, furnished in brass, glass and an array of modern art. There were several leaded glass doors; one was open. The office that Parker assumed was hers was now furnished with her desk and other Centre trappings. There was an arrangement of fresh flowers on the desk and a window that looked out on the cove. She had been called down from Corporate into the bowels of The Centre. Now she could look down on the place. It seemed she had "come up" in the world, above her father, who she knew loved to be in the hub of the action. She thought she might like this detachment. The thought that she understood Margaret's perspective sent a chill through her.

Parker returned to the reception area and closed the door behind her. She paced the room until she heard the elevator open. She kept telling herself she was ready for this meeting. These two were her friends; she did not want them involved, so she could not tell them the truth. She also did not want them nosing into things, so she would choose her words with care.

A smile spread across Sydney's face as he walked through the door. Parker could not completely repress the smile that came to her lips. She was as glad to see him as she had been to see Sam. Only Sam was not about to question her.

Broots followed Sydney, grinned and stated the obvious. "Miss Parker, you're really back."

She wanted to laugh at him but she straightened her face and her stance. "Yes, gentlemen, I am back."

Sydney's smile disappeared. "Parker, what happened?"

"If you want a play-by-play you'll have to wait for the movie."

"But I thought..." He paused noticing the set of her jaw. Anger crept into his voice, "If you were coerced...forced..."

Parker cut him short. "I made the decision to come back here. As you can see," she indicated their surroundings, "things have changed."

"And...Jarod?"

"I came to my senses and realized I'd made a mistake. And that will probably be all you need to know on that subject for now."

Sydney's furrowed brow told Parker he did not believe her. She decided she should add the bad news; she took a deep breath. "How do you like my new digs?"

Broots looked around in apparent awe. Sydney took the scenery in quickly. "Very nice. Does a new assignment accompany the accommodations?"

"Why yes, it seems my previous position has become obsolete. You see Jarod found his mother."

Broots' jaw dropped; Sydney lifted an eyebrow.

"The problem, his problem, is that these offices are hers." Parker waited for their reaction.

Broots stuttered; then shut his mouth. Sydney replied, "This place ceased to shock me long ago."

"Me, too. Oh, Syd, a heads up. Jarod is coming home today. If you can return to treating him like the test subject he is, then he's yours. If you cannot or prefer not to, other arrangements will be made."

Broots managed a coherent sentence, "J...Jarod is coming back, too?"

"I believe that's what I said."

"But, Miss Parker!"

Parker fixed him with a stare she hoped would stop him.

Her hopes were dashed. Once Broots actually started he was hard to stop. He looked down at the carpet but desperately went on, "How could you do that?"

"I didn't," she growled. How could he think that?

"Oh, no." He looked up at her, desperation growing. "I didn't think you...I mean how could you come...how could you let...?" He finally came to a halt under the weight of her stare. She felt as though she had broken another heart.

Sydney put a hand to his chin, rubbing his forefinger across his mouth, and considered. "I will let you know my decision after I speak with Jarod."

"Wrong, Sydney, you are to speak to him about nothing except business, nothing of what happened before now or what I just told you." She looked at his urgently hoping he could understand her meaning. She added, "It's for his own good."

"I see."

She hoped he did. "Also, the information on Jarod's discovery," she tilted her head slightly, indicating the room, "is strictly confidential."

Both men nodded.

"So now, if you will excuse me, I have files to catch up on, and Sam has offered to fill me in on events during my absence."

Sydney spoke for both of them. "As you wish, Miss Parker." They turned and left.

Parker shut the heavy glass door behind them and returned to her own private glass cage.



The limousine pulled up to the front entrance. The car door was opened. Jarod managed to get himself out of the car and standing without assistance, but he could not force his foot take the first step. Buchan placed a hand lightly on Jarod's shoulder. It was not meant to intimidate or comfort, but it went through Jarod like an electric shock. He took a step and kept moving. He sensed the sweepers surrounding him in case he bolted but he had tunnel vision, focused on
the door.

Jarod made it inside and stopped again, taking a breath. He was back, thanks to his mother, but at least he had walked in on his own. He looked around. All eyes were on him. That was somewhat gratifying and, always a showman at heart, it allowed him to continue.

The entourage had barely cleared the lobby when Mr. Parked rapidly approached from the direction of his office. He scanned the faces of all present, settling briefly on Jarod, to whom he nodded acknowledgement, before he focused on Buchan. "Where's your mistress?"

Buchan disliked being attacked smiled secretly at the other meaning of the word. "My mistress's whereabouts are not your concern until she wants them known. She will contact you tomorrow."

Mr. Parker ground his teeth in frustration. "She'd better watch her step."

Buchan was not impressed.

Mr. Parker cleared his throat and focused on Jarod. "You must be the treasure my daughter alluded to." He glanced at Buchan again. "I was under the impression that she was coming with him."

"Your impressions are hardly her concern," the sweeper replied.

"Remember your place," the elder man said before he returned his attention to Jarod. "Welcome home, Jarod." Mr. Parker took a firm hold on Jarod's coat sleeve and guided him toward the elevator.

Buchan did not follow; he decided to take a break. He had a sudden desire for a large mug of American coffee.

As the elevator doors closed, Jarod saw Sydney and Broots coming from the direction of the Tower. They looked troubled. Sydney caught Jarod's eye for the briefest moment. Desperate questions met desperate questions. Neither had any answers.

Paula helped out and did this chapter for me, so here's some more - Niceole

Oh, and a cautionary warning for some language (but only a little bit).


The Truth Hurts
Part 26
by paula h


Disclaimer in part one




Broots and Sydney caught sight of Jarod as they exited the Tower elevator. He was being escorted into the Sublevels elevator. Broots stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the confusion on Jarod's face. "Syd, did you see him? God. He looked scared. And Mr. Parker was taking him down himself. What do ya' think that means?"

Sydney considered Jarod's appearance and company. "I'm not sure, Broots, but it appears we are not the only ones who lack information. I think I'll try again." Sydney turned back toward the elevator.

Broots turned with him but made no move to follow. "Do you want me to come?"

Sydney stopped and looked at the younger man. "No, it would be better if I went alone. Thank you."

"Oh, okay then," Broots was relieved, "I'll be in the lab. Be careful."

Sydney smiled and nodded shortly. Did he need to be careful with Miss Parker?


The elevator deposited Sydney on Margaret's floor of the Tower. He noted that the doors were closed but that did not stop him from walking through the reception area, knocking lightly, and entering Miss Parker's office.

Parker looked up, expecting Sam. She did not smile. "Did I invite you back?"

"No, but I thought you might need me."

"When have I ever told you I needed you or anyone else?"

"You may lie to yourself if you wish, Miss Parker. Please don't lie to me."

Parker paused for lack of a snappy retort. God, she did need him, but she could not involve him. It was too dangerous to everyone, especially her son.

Sydney noticed the unconscious movement of Parker's hand to her abdomen. "Are you ill, Miss Parker?"

Parker followed his gaze. She sighed. "Well, no, not really. And I guess you and everyone else will find out sooner or later. I'm pregnant."

Sydney was both shocked and overjoyed. "Jarod's?" he asked, sure he knew the answer.

"You presume far too much." She had to nip this in the bud. "First, that I would consider having the lab rat's child; second, that I would be satisfied with just one man, any man at any time; and third, that it's any of your business."

Knowing he would certainly see that lie in her face, she turned to the window.

He did see. "Pardon me."

"When, or if, Jarod asks, tell him it's not his." Parker knew the desperation had crept into her voice. She cleared her throat. "Now, since you seem so interested in my plans, I'll fill you in.

"I decided there was no way I was taking myself and my child on a lifelong road trip, so I came back. There was really not much choice. As to my relationship with Jarod, it was most certainly a mistake. His own mother pointed that out to me.


"On the other hand, she has graciously offered to take me under her wing and groom me to take my place at the helm of The Centre. Something my father may or may not like. But changes will happen, and happen soon. Margaret is a woman who values power, and I have no intention of being powerless again." Parker finished, wishing she could take back the last word she uttered.

"I see."

Parker rather hoped that he did, and prayed that he would not get involved. "You must respect my decisions and my wishes."

"I will, Parker," Sydney's voice took on a softness reminiscent of affection, "And congratulations."


At that second all Parker wanted to do was not cry. She mumbled, "Thank you."

Sydney nodded and turned to leave.

Parker could not keep herself from asking, "Did you see him?"

He turned back toward her. "Yes, your father took him down, assumedly to his rooms."

"How... did he look?" Could she be more transparent?

"Confused, Parker, as are we all." He looked at her again. He was about to say more when Sam knocked at the door. Syd looked at the sweeper and then back at Parker. "It's good they allowed you one familiar face. Remember there are others here who know you as well." He lifted an eyebrow and set a small smile to the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, Sydney," Parker said and meant it. "Now I really do have work." She placed her hand lightly on his arm and escorted him out of the suite. She closed that door and turned to Sam. "Okay, what did I miss while I was gone?"



Neither Jarod nor Mr. Parker spoke on the elevator ride. Mr. Parker began to exit on an unfamiliar level and Jarod balked, "Where are you taking me?"

The sweepers who had accompanied them moved forward and Mr. Parker motioned them off. "To your new rooms. I had them prepared a short time ago, in hopes that you would find your way back here." Mr. Parker told the sweepers to wait outside while he and Jarod entered the door.

Jarod looked around. The room was large and airy, considering it was underground. Jarod looked at the ceiling; the vents were small. Apparently they had finally smartened up.

Mr. Parker followed Jarod's look. "Yes, um well, we can't have you slipping out through a vent now can we? Not after all the time and money we put into getting you back." He paused, pulled a small device from his pocket and switched it on. It emitted a low hum.

Jarod turned toward the older man, a questioning look on his face.

Mr. Parker smirked slightly. "State of the art. Now they can't hear a thing."

Jarod glanced at the corner of the room.

"Yes, there are cameras, but I ordered them turned off while I'm here. There are still a few people who fear me enough to be trusted."

"I assume your daughter is not among them?"

"Her loyalties appear to have switched... again." He gave Jarod a knowing look.

"Apparently that's a woman's privilege."

"Yes, um, about that," He cleared his throat, "I, ahh...I could use your help right now, Jarod."

"Why the hell would I do something for you?"

Mr. Parker smiled. "I see your mother hasn't tamed you."

"My mother," he covered the word with venom, "has another project."

Mr. Parker nodded. "My daughter; that's what I mean. What do you know?"

"I only know what I'm allowed to know. The same as always." Jarod said pointedly.

"That could change."

"Oh, and I'll jump on that offer. You think I'd believe anything you say?"

"Do you want Margaret Abbott in charge of The Centre?"

Jarod held out his arms and looked around the room. "And that would affect me how?

"Everything here affects you, Jarod, you're part of The Centre. Before you were even born your life was intertwined with my daughter's, and The Centre."

"We came together before, didn't we?"

"Yes," Mr. Parker looked down, "but you planned to leave, hide if necessary, and that couldn't be. The Triumvirate ordered you stopped."

"How many times?" Jarod's voice nearly cracked; he started again, "How many times did you steal our memories?"

"That's not germane to the situation. And it seems that the last effort was ineffective."

"For your daughter," Jarod decided to peal back the onion a bit, "I think it's because of her gift."

"Yes, I suppose..."

So, Margaret had not told him about Ethan or Cameron, and neither had Parker. That was interesting. Jarod was not about to share the news. "I expect it will work better on me."

"She plans to wipe your memory?" Mr. Parker was genuinely surprised. "But why?"

"I'm not very cooperative." Jarod smiled wryly. "She thinks it will make me a happy little servant again."

"It might, but it seems a waste."

Jarod thought the Chairman might be sincere. "Feel free to convince her of that."

"Humph, she could care less about my opinion, and I suspect her current fixation on my daughter's ascendance to the 'throne' is more about thwarting me. Margaret wants to take over the Centre; I know it. We've bested one another over the years, Raines, her and myself, but now she's put her influence behind my daughter, the one person she knows I won't destroy."

Jarod cocked his head to one side.

"I know you don't believe me. And I know I've never been able to show it, but I do love her as best I can. I do want her to take the reins of The Centre from me eventually, but not under Margaret's thumb."

"Well, by this time tomorrow I doubt if I will know the difference or care."

"Surely you can think of some way to talk her out of wiping your memory. It's important, Jarod. You could do it. You manipulate people all the time. Hell, you manipulated my daughter, didn't you?"

Jarod could not deny he had manipulated Parker. But that was before, and a part of their game. Somewhere along the line they had realized they were in love and it all changed. Now they knew it had changed long before two months past. They had been forced to relive their discovery over and over in hopes they would get it right according to some undefined Centre rules.

The elder Parker took Jarod's silence as admission. "You know you've hurt her a time or two? I didn't like it and I still remember it, even if you don't. But I, we, have bigger worries now."

"I'll work on it." Jarod felt as though he was being pulled into a game against his will. Then again, all this was against his will. At least now he might be a player, and he found he rather liked that idea. Maybe his mother was right about him.

Mr. Parker blessed Jarod with his biggest smile. "That's m' boy!" He clapped him jovially on the back. "Well, now that that's settled I must be going. We'll talk again after I see what Margaret's up too." He switched off the jamming device. "If you need anything there's an intercom by the door. No work till tomorrow at least. Relax."

Jarod almost laughed at that possibility. "Does this mean I'm not being given back to Lyle?" He felt a chill run up his spine at the thought.

"I'll see to it that we don't repeat the... mistakes of the past. Lyle and Mr. Raines are away on business for the present. If it seems... advantageous Lyle can be kept busy at the Tokyo Office for the time being. I'll deal with Raines when he gets back." The elder man lifted an eyebrow, so that Jarod knew it was a done deal. And then he left.



Margaret decided it was good to be back in the States, but she was tired and jetlagged. She spent the majority of her first day back in her room with a blinding headache.

Miss Parker returned to the compound with the sunset. Margaret still felt ill but she dressed and joined her new protégé for supper. Actually, she found the meal productive. Miss Parker was polite but aloof, and focused her attention on her food. Margaret was not in the mood for banter anyway. She posed a few general questions but she did not need the short replies she got. Both knew that she would get a play-by-play of everything that had happened at The Centre. She just wanted to remind Parker of her interest.


It was good policy to remind Parker that her actions were monitored. After supper, Margaret made a point of going to her study and watching the video of Parker's meeting with her father. She also watched Jarod's homecoming. She was displeased to learn that Mr. Parker's visit to Jarod's new rooms went unrecorded. She wondered what the old fool had up his sleeve.

Margaret went to bed content with her progress over the last few days. It would be good to groom Parker's daughter for her rightful place as his successor, even though it should not be his. The next step was eliminating their competition, one way or another, and then there was the small problem of Jarod.


The first thing Margaret did when she woke was call The Centre. It was seven o'clock and she felt her team of doctors had been given ample time to formulate a complete care plan for Jarod. The doctors said that arrangements, meaning the medications, would not be complete until late afternoon. Further questioning revealed that the first batch of a very important constituent had been improperly formulated; it might have destroyed Jarod's short-term memory. Still, Margaret was dissatisfied with the delay. She knew that if she had not succumbed to the headache yesterday, and gone to The Centre herself, things would have moved smoother and faster. She disliked weakness, even in herself. It wasted time.


Margaret saw Parker in passing as the younger woman hurried out the door. It made little difference to her whether Parker was anxious to be at work or gone from the house as long as she complied with their agreement. On the DSAs from the previous day Parker appeared compliant but troubled. She might need tweaking. Not her work; she was a fine administrator; had always done excellent work when she was at Corporate. But Parker needed to harden her resolve, come to terms with their deal and her new life. Margaret was expert at separating herself from emotions; she intended to teach her apprentice everything she knew.


Jarod had spent the previous day seething because he was back where he belonged. Today was a new day, and hopefully he finally understood who she was, what he was, and what was expected of him. He was waiting for her to clean up his memories, and she would have preferred to do it today. Now the wipe would have to wait until tomorrow morning.


Margaret adjusted her schedule. She had plenty of other business that would benefit from her attention. She could use Jarod to test another variable; it was time to see if Sydney had to be replaced. Besides which she wanted to call upon Mr. Parker today to say hello, update him on his daughter, and keep him under her thumb.

Raines might be more difficult. Thoughts of him soured Margaret's mood as she left the compound. She placed a few phone calls to check on his whereabouts, and Lyle's.

The Swiss financial puzzle was not complicated, purposely so. Margaret only wanted Raines out of the way until Jarod and Parker made their homecoming. She wanted him back before Lyle. The ghoul had no friends - and did not need any - he knew how to maneuver. But once the Triumvirate reviewed his uses of Centre funds he would be off to Africa for a while. No one but Lyle would rally to his defense if he was attacked, and Lyle could be kept busy.

Lyle was still occupied in Hong Kong. The bankers Margaret bought had done an especially good job of fouling up Centre accounts there. Margaret told them they could "lose" a few hundred thousand if necessary, and they did. Sadly for the bankers' families, she was certain some of it went into their pockets. Lyle would take care of it; her losses would be minimal. He had a flight booked for Seoul in four days, which meant he felt confident he would have the problems solved.

The Korean office had a few financial irregularities, which Margaret did not instigate, but they were not serious. The Seoul business might delay him two days. Margaret knew what Lyle's father knew about his predilection for Asian women, partying, and the occasional lost weekend. Korea had a few enticements she thought Lyle might like, and she had ensured that Lyle would find them all.When he got enough of that and came home she would have to deal with him. Hopefully his father would be out of the picture by then.

Margaret's arrived at The Centre with no fanfare. Some might say she snuck in the back door. She preferred to think of driving into a lower parking level and taking the private elevator to her office level as being discreet.


She had an odd anonymity at The Centre. Here she was Miss Abbott, seldom seen, former staff psychologist, and former head of Centre European Corporate. She was one of the few who came and went as she pleased. Her office suite was used little more than once a year but it was a monument to her ability. No one asked bout the empty offices on that floor, not did they seek information of any of the absentee tenants. If any did they were soon gone.

Margaret was an intimidating figure, in a severely cut indigo suit, white silk shell and handmade snakeskin pumps, as she walked through her sparsely staffed office. She preferred it empty. She smiled benignly at the temporary receptionist. Her smile was one of her best tools. The young woman would forget the dragon lady and think of her as a kind boss who took the time to greet even the lowly.


Her office was exactly as Margaret left it. She took a moment to check messages and look out the window at the cove. It was a beautifully clear winter day; the large vase of roses on the window ledge was a striking contrast. A smaller, less obtrusive, arrangement on her desk was equally lovely. Margaret liked fresh flowers, so beautiful, so transient, and so disposable. Centre business could wait a moment; she had a personal matter to attend.

Margaret left her office and opened the door to Parker's office unannounced. She took a step into the room and waited for acknowledgement.

Parker looked up at the sound, surprised and displeased. She adjusted her expression when she saw recognized her intruder. "Margaret," in a barely impolite tone, "what can I do for you?"

Margaret walked the rest of the way into the room and sat down. "At The Centre I prefer to be called 'Miss Abbott,' if you don't mind."

"As you wish." Parker returned he eyes to her deskwork, her attention was riveted on the other woman.

"This is when you tell me how happy you are to be home, or at least welcome me back."

"Do I need to lie to you, too?" Parker asked. She paused and added, "welcome back," in her flattest voice.

Margaret raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Thank you, and no, lying to me is not generally required or tolerated." Such an easy point to win. "So, how is Jarod?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?"

"Just checking. I've decided to allow Sydney to see him today."

"You've wiped his memory already?" Parkers voice rose with the speed of her heartbeat.

"No, that is slightly postponed due to technical difficulties." She frowned. "So I've changed strategies. This way it won't matter what Sydney asks or says to Jarod. It will all disappear. And I will know if Sydney can fulfill his duties."

"If he can't?"

"He has other projects, and they can be continued at another Centre facility. I think Mr. Broots will join him wherever."

"Broots is my assistant."

"Broots is a field man. You don't need him up here. If his services are ever required you can call him back as a consultant. You should feel lucky that I've allowed you to keep your old personal sweeper. Three things influenced that decision. Your Sam is good at his job; he is personally loyal to you – a valuable thing when you may become a target - and he was not at all involved in your little escapade. Your role at The Centre has changed Miss Parker, let go of your past."

Parker had little choice. "I am."

Margaret smiled "Then I'm pleased. Call Sydney and tell him to visit his favorite. I'm sure he's been concerned...and curious." Margaret's smile faded. "Tell him to try a simulation." She rose and walked out the door.

Parker phoned Sydney and relayed the message. She also told him to call her immediately when he returned to his office. She doubted that Margaret would approve of the second order.



Sydney was pleased with the opportunity to see Jarod. Parker's curt phone call left him guessing about her motives, but for the moment he did not care. He gathered files for a relatively innocuous sim as ordered. He doubted Jarod would be willing, and assumed that was the point.

Jarod was sitting alone, beside a plain table in a minor workroom, when Sydney arrived. He gave the psychologist a half-smile by way of greeting.

Sydney returned the smile as he put a small pile of files on the worktable. He sat down in a straight chair directly across from Jarod. Sydney started to reach out but drew back his hand when Jarod crossed his arms. He lowered his eyes briefly to the files and raised them again. "It's good to see you."

"I didn't expect to see you until after."

"After?"

"After my memory was expunged and I was back in tool mode. You know, plain white cotton prison clothes, the whole deal."

There was little Sydney could say. He tried to understand what Jarod was feeling; he was not sure he should ask.

"You did know they've been wiping my memory over the years, didn't you?" Jarod leaned forward in challenge.

"No, Jarod, I did not."

"Come now, Sydney, are you that stupid? Or that blind?"

"I suspected that they had done something at the time Miss Parker was sent away to school. I could not be sure. But, considering your... reaction at the time..."

"I tried to kill myself, didn't I?"

"Yes, and you were almost successful." Sydney relived the guilt of not anticipating the attempt. There was a short silence before Sydney continued. "You were young, Jarod, barely a man. Miss Parker was precocious. Neither of you had an outlet for your curiosity. It should not have been a surprise when you started to explore with one another."

"You thought it was just two randy teenagers?" Jarod sat back.

"So to speak; I thought it was infatuation. I actually approved of Mr. Parker's decision to separate you."

"Because she was too good for a lab rat."

"Because you were both too young to know what you were doing. And The Centre is a very unforgiving environment. I assumed that you would get over it quickly; you had plenty of assignments to occupy your mind. When you became morose I took it for a normal level of adolescent dramatics." He stopped again and looked Jarod in the eye. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"About the wipe?"

"I prescribed a strong antidepressant. When you ceased speaking about Miss Parker I was relieved. You went on with your work. When she came to visit months later and you greeted her formally I thought you were deliberately distancing yourself. I saw what I wanted to see and ignored the possibility that someone had manipulated your thoughts."

"Someone other than you, you mean." Jarod was grim. "Not to worry, Syd, my mother did it, and she plans to do it again."

"Surely not!" Sydney stopped mid-refutation. This was The Centre; there was nothing beyond belief. Suddenly, Miss Parker's demand that he confine conversations with Jarod to business made perfect sense. She knew his memory was going to be wiped and wanted it to stay that way. Sydney frowned. He asked the forbidden question. "What happened?"

"I've been told I broke Parker's heart a few times over the years. Apparently, she decided to return the favor."

"I don't believe it's as simple as a moment of pique, Jarod. There is far more behind this than a change of heart."

"You assume Centre women have hearts. I think there's plenty of evidence to the contrary."

"Catherine was..."

"Parker's mother and one of the founders of this hell." Jarod said abruptly; he brought clenched fists down on the table. "You know what, Sydney? I don't want to talk about this any more." He pushed himself back from the table and crossed his arms. "My guess is that you're here for more than old times. So let's skip the social visit and show me what you've got for me to do."

Sydney did not argue; he opened a file. "I brought a simple sim, if you are willing." He watched for Jarod's reaction; there was none. "Three Hong Kong investment houses had massive amounts of money disappear a few days ago. Previous to this, several brokers were accused of skimming funds. One was cleared and the others are reimbursing their firms."

"No arrests?"

"These are international houses with multinational clients. They want things handled internally, and quietly. They think the latest event was long planned, the 'one big job' and then they were going to disappear."

"They were working together?" Jarod was skeptical.

"There is evidence to that effect. Two men from one house were definitely in collaboration; the other two were not, previous to this. All deny any involvement in this incident." Sydney pushed several files with financial information across the table.

Jarod moved back to the table. "Why would The Centre be concerned with simple embezzlement?" Jarod scanned a file of figures. He laughed aloud. "Never mind, I see. It's Centre money. Big bucks. They thought they could get away with Centre money?" He laughed again.

"You did."

"I kept moving." Jarod continued to read. "This trail leads to Swiss banks. This is why Lyle and Raines were both absent at my arrival?" He glanced at Sydney for confirmation.

Sydney nodded.

"Nice, nicely arranged." He nodded to himself and opened another file, and a third. He pointed to the first. "This trail is way too obvious. The two-man team was good; they were caught strictly by accident. The others got too greedy, but not to this level. The Centre fiasco, ten million suddenly missing," Jarod chuckled, "was just too heavy handed. Tell Lyle he can pull the toothpicks out from under their fingernails. It wasn't them." Jarod looked at Sydney from under his eyebrows; he pushed the files back across the table.

"If not them, then who did it?"

"Unless it's The Centre Widows and Orphans Fund, I could care less." Jarod leaned back and smiled. "As far as I can tell this just keeps Lyle off me. The longer he's gone, the better."

"You're sure it wasn't the men accused?"

"No, it was three other men, a triumvirate of sorts," Jarod found himself amusing. "They're not as good as they think. Even Lyle can find them if he opens his eyes."

Sydney sensed desperation in Jarod's amusement; he felt powerless to help and it showed in his face.

The sympathy angered Jarod. He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back as he did. "Sorry to see me back here, Sydney? You shouldn't be. According to the women in my life," he gestured wildly, "this is where I belong." He started pacing. "And after today I won't remember. They can tell me I've been blissfully happy and I'll believe them."

"You were unhappy for a long while, Jarod; I had to ignore it."

"Turning a blind eye is a Centre job requirement."

"There are times I find it difficult to live with the guilt."

"There's plenty to go around. You should all be drowning in it."

"Perhaps there's something I can do..."

"Empty offer. The big boys are tossing me around now. If I'm ever going to have any control of my life at all, I have to court favor with one of them."

"Miss Parker?" The near-rage on Jarod's face answered Sydney. "Mr. Parker?"

"I suspect he's being replaced."

"Your mother?" Sydney was incredulous.

"She seems to be the current top dog. I guess I better cozy up to her while I still can. Maybe I can be the next Lyle."

"Is that what you want, Jarod?" Had he changed that much?

"It's too fucking late to worry about me now." Jarod went to the door and pounded it with his fist. A sweeper opened the door and looked questioningly at both men. Jarod said, "Get me out of here."

Sydney nodded. Jarod was escorted from the room without a backward glance. Sydney dropped his head to his hand in frustration and sorrow.



Miss Parker desperately needed to get out of her bright sunny office. She knew a dungeon when she was in one; fresh flowers only dressed it up a little. Sydney's call came when she was hanging on by a thread; she jumped at the chance for motion.

Sam was sitting in the hall, reading the newspaper for the third time when she streaked past. He rose and followed her to the elevator. Parker started to dismiss him, but recognized her feelings mirrored in his face. She nodded permission.

Parker sent Sam for coffee while she went in to Sydney's office. "Well?" in a tone of voice from another life.

Sydney felt a wave of nostalgia for that life, bad as it was, it seemed idyllic next to the present. "Please have a seat, Miss Parker." He indicated a comfortable chair.

"I don't have time to hang out with the 'gang,' Syd. I've graduated from Scooby-Doo and moved up to the Tower."

"That is becoming obvious."

"Good, then just tell me how your visit with Jarod went. Was it like old times?"

"No. He cooperated only as long as it suited him. Jarod is not the man who left here. He is very angry; he will not be satisfied with 'old times' and he wants a say in his future."

Parker swallowed; she carefully controlled her voice. "Did he say anything about his future?"

"Nothing you don't know," he suggested. "He did say something about your past. Your memories were altered?" he asked.

"Why yes, Syd, courtesy of Jarod's mother and with the permission of my father," she answered bitterly.

"And they are going to do so again?"

"Not to me."

"I see. And that explains why Jarod is so resentful. He does not want things to go back to the way they were."

"There's no going back for me. I just have to keep pushing forward."

"And trample anyone you knock down on the way?"

"If that's what it takes." She stood. "And the real question is do you have what it takes, Sydney? Can you go back to working with Jarod?"

"I don't think he wants me to. The dynamics have changed. In the past, Jarod saw me as a father figure, whether I encouraged it or not. Now he's found his father and, unfortunately, his mother. I was his 'Refuge;' now he knows I cannot protect him. He's decided he can only depend upon himself."

"One too many disappointments can do that to you."

"He intends to pursue a more powerful patron, his mother."

"Really?" Parker was surprised. "That's quite a change of heart."

"The heart is a very changeable thing," he said in a knowing tone.

"Jesus. Spare me the sap. Okay, Syd? Send me a report." Parker got up and left the office. Sam handed her a large decaf as she passed. She concentrated on drinking the coffee without spilling it or burning her mouth, while she and Sam caught the Tower elevator. She did not want to think about what Jarod was going through or what he might do.



Parker walked straight into Margaret's office, unannounced, just to see her reaction.

Margaret seemed amused. "I've always admired your chutzpah, Miss Parker," her smile remained but her tone changed, "but don't ever do that again."

Parker refused to react.

"I intend to be available to you at any time; absolutely no one else can make that claim. But I demand that you give me notice before making an appearance, understood?"

"Yes. Might I expect the same respect from you?" Parker kept her voice formally friendly.

Margaret considered for a beat. "Point made. I will return the courtesy."

Parker nodded. "I just came from speaking with Sydney; he met with Jarod. May I sit?"

Margaret pointed toward a chair. "And?"

"We'll get his formal report." She sat. "First, I need to ask you a question, and I want a blunt answer. Did you mean it when you said Sydney won't be punished if he doesn't work with Jarod?"

"He's decided he doesn't want to?"

"It may not be up to him. He told me Jarod wanted to work for you. Have you two come to an agreement?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm not; I know the deal. I was just surprised."

"No, no agreement." Margaret put her hand to her chin, "But his saying that is interesting. Last I spoke to him he was openly furious."

"I think he still is. He vented at Sydney."

"That will change when the past few years are gone from his memory. I'll read the doctor's report and perhaps offer him another opportunity after tomorrow."

"You still intend to do it? Wipe his memory tomorrow?"

"Yes, Parker, I intend to follow the plan, and hold you to our deal."

"You are so cold," Parker said with long-standing disgust.

"I am, and when you reach the point where you can sacrifice anything, yourself, all the relationships you've built, even your child, then you will be ready to run The Centre. It's bigger than human emotion, and more important than any one person, even flesh and blood. Once you understand and believe that, you will be ready for the power that The Centre can give you."

"You make it sound like we'll control the world."

"Something like that." Margaret smiled and rose from her chair. "I have an appointment downstairs. I want a copy of Sydney's report as soon as you get it." Margaret did not wait for a reply.

Parker walked out of Margaret's office behind her.



Margaret took the private elevator down. She would save the grand entrance till the time was right...soon. She walked confidently toward the Chairman's office, gathering clandestine stares as she went. Let them wonder for now. Margaret was on her way to make her presence known to Mr. Parker. En route she decided to offer him a graceful exit. Eventually some accident might befall him but that could wait.

The olive branch was not meant for him but for Miss Parker, as a reward for early good behavior, and an incentive to move smoothly into her father's position.

Mr. Parker was working at his desk when his secretary announced Miss Abbott. He knew she was coming to glory in his Angel's return. He already knew she was in the building; had known the second she arrived. He wondered if she had expected him to request a meeting. He would not give her the satisfaction of calling, let alone run up there.

Margaret walked into the office with a smile on her face.

Mr. Parker rose and returned the false affability. "Margaret, it's been a while." He extended a hand to her.

Margaret took it in hers. "Yes, far too long." They shook hands and held on a beat longer than necessary. Both continued standing.

"My daughter tells me she's ready to take her place here."

"Yes, are you ready to step out of her way?"

"She's not at the point where she can take over as Chairperson."

"She never will be, according to you."

His expression darkened. "This is what I've wanted, planned for, all her life."

"Planning and action aren't the same thing. It's time to get on with it."

"You won't just push me out of your way." He said stridently.

"I expect," she said with emphasis, "you to do what's necessary, or I may have
to."

"Are you threatening me?" he bellowed.

"No," she backed down strategically. She knew she had pushed too soon. "I didn't intend to put it quite that way. But once the Triumvirate knows about her...and the baby..." she trailed off when she saw surprise on the Chairman's face. So Parker hadn't told him.

"She's pregnant?"

"Yes, although apparently not ready to announce it. Now that there will be a child, the future is assured."

"Yes, this does change things." Mr. Parker was vaguely preoccupied.

"We need her to commit herself as soon as possible. You can facilitate that, and be around to enjoy your grandchild. Think about it." She lifted an eyebrow suggestively.

Mr. Parker caught her offer. He had no intention of taking it, but Margaret did not need to know that. He got over his surprise and went straight to his ineffectual shambling act. "Yes, yes, commitment to The Centre. And a child... this changes everything."

Margaret left him seemingly lost in thought. She did not expect him to go this easily. But she had other options, and more dangerous fish to fry. She returned to her office.

The remainder of Margaret's day was spent on European affairs, mostly financial. She checked on the Swiss accounts; all was progressing nicely. It was time to let Raines know about the homecoming. She had Buchan "leak" the information to the right people. Soon Mr. Raines would be in a hurry to get back to the States.

All in all, Margaret felt it had been another successful day. After leaving The Centre she put aside business, including Sydney's report on Jarod, and spent the night reading. At midnight she called Buchan, for a massage.

First thing the next morning Margaret watched the DSA of Jarod's meeting with
Sydney. She definitely wanted to see him before his memory adjustment. It might be interesting to see what he thought now. She decided to soften her look for the meeting, and chose a camel wool suit with a brown satin blouse. She considered wearing her hair down but that might be too much. Jarod knew he had been played; he might consider the hair a reminder and an insult.

Miss Parker was gone before Margaret left her own rooms. She did not rush to follow her but went directly to Parker's office when she reached The Centre. This time she had herself announced just before she walked in the door.

Parker was no more pleased with this visit than yesterday's. "Do you ever give forewarning of an appearance?" a pause, "Oh, and of course, good morning."

"No. And to cut to the chase, I'm going down to see Jarod now. After that he won't remember escaping The Centre, your affair or your child."

"I see." Parker wanted desperately to plead with her but did not.

"It's our deal, Parker, and you may find it's for the best in the long run."

Parker did not reply as she fought against opposing impulses to burst into tears or jump across the desk to throttle Margaret. Her fists clenched.

Margaret noticed. "Overall, you're doing well; I'm inclined to overlook the little things, like your current anger with me."

Parker flattened her hands on the desk and adjusted her expression.

Margaret nodded. "Time will show I'm correct. Passion dims; The Centre remains." She stood. "Oh, there's one thing you need to do soon. Announce or leak the news of your pregnancy. I don't care how you do it. Some secrets still cannot be kept forever." She left Parker staring at the closing door.

Margaret took the rear elevator to the garage again. She got out on the garage level and crossed to the Centre sublevel elevator. From there to Jarod's room took only moments.



Jarod knew his mother would be coming to see him before she had his memory wiped. She would want to gloat. He told himself he would greet her warmly, he would talk calmly, he would not beg her for his memory, he would convince her. But when he saw her, all the pain came flooding back and his voice came out as a growl. "What took you so long?"

"Are you in such a hurry to forget?"

Jarod's breath caught. "No." He wanted to remember everything, every discovery, every moment of passion, every second of joy, everything, even if it included the despair he felt now. He wanted to remember his son. He swallowed his pride and cleared his throat. "Would it make any difference... is there some way I can convince you not to do this?"

That peaked Margaret's interest. "Have you got a proposition for me, ...son?"

Jarod almost lost his temper. The bitch knew all the buttons; Buchan was right she was good at manipulation. "Yes, an honest one, ...Mother."

Margaret smiled. "Good. Let's hear it."

"I perform. I become the trained monkey I was before, and you let me keep my memory."

"Go on."

"I have changed; you said so. I think my experience could improve my 'value' to The Centre."

"That's it? That's hardly a proposal. I get that either way."

Jarod knew he was loosing the game. She saw right through him; he decided to try the actual truth. He took a deep breath and forced the air slowly out of his lungs. He took another breath and looked her in the eye. "I want my son."

"Ah, but there's the rub, Jarod, you can't have him. That's not part of any scenario."

"I want to see him grow up."

"Even if it means never acknowledging him or going near him?"

Jarod considered for an anguished instant. "Yes."

Margaret studied him. She smiled sympathetically. "I don't believe you." She put her hand on his arm. "Let's go."

Jarod pulled away. "No."

"I can call six sweepers in here."

"I could kill you before they got here." He meant it.

Margaret knew he did. He had changed. It startled and exhilarated her. "Don't be infantile. If I die, you die and your son will disappear."

Jarod knew that was true. He walked out of the room ahead of her.

Margaret directed him to another room a short way down the hall. There were two men in lab coats, a treatment table and a few pieces of equipment.

Jarod balked. "There are things you'll erase that you may want to know."

Margaret put a hand to Jarod's back and he moved to the center of the room. She beckoned the men; Jarod went with them to the table. They strapped him down. Margaret followed and stood over him.

Jarod involuntarily fought the restraints; he was near panic. "I know things."

Margaret ignored him. She turned to the technicians. "Give me the first syringe and then leave us alone. Go tell the doctors we're ready." The men complied. She returned her attention to Jarod. "What things?"

Jarod eyed the syringe as Margaret flicked a bubble free of the glass. "I know about some financial misconduct, information you could twist to make any of them look like they stole Centre funds, like you did in Hong Kong."

"Why, Jarod, that's so dishonest of you. How many people have you told, including Sydney?"

"No one. I wanted to prove you could trust me." His voice was close to a growl.

She lifted and eyebrow and smiled. "You should have cooperated sooner." She forced liquid out of the needle. "Not telling Sydney probably saved his life."

"I know things about Lyle," he said through gritted teeth.

"Things I don't know?" she asked, interested again.

"You know he's a serial killer?"

"I have suspicions. You have proof?"

"If you let me I can send the FBI and authorities in three Asian countries information. If they coordinate efforts they could convict him without Centre involvement." Jarod was breathing hard. That was his trump card, if she wanted an excuse to help him.

"Now that is interesting," she paused, "but I just don't think it's enough." She pulled his arm around slightly and inserted the needle into a vein.

Jarod grimaced. "Mother, please!" He had promised himself he would not beg, but he couldn't help it. "Don't do this again." He felt the fluid surging into his vein. "I will help you, do what you want, pretend to be what you want." He felt Margaret remove the needle and consciousness fade. "Please...don't let Lyle near my son...or Parker... please... pl..." He lost the ability to speak. He looked up at his mother, knowing she had won and knew he would loose all memory of his son.

Margaret watched Jarod struggle against his restraints and the drug's inescapable effects. He had done a nice job of presenting his case. She would have preferred that he had not begged, but his reasonableness was an improvement to past behavior.

Jarod stared at her until his eyes closed and his breathing relaxed. His forehead was covered with sweat and his too-long hair had fallen across one eye. She reached down to push it away as she had done when she played her mommy part. She caught herself in the tender action. Perhaps she had learned that role too well; she was irritated with herself for it.

The doctors were coming into the room and Margaret turned to leave. With one last analytical look at her son, she wondered just how damning that Lyle information really was.

The Truth Hurts
Part 27
by paula h and Pretndermp



Disclaimer in part 1.



Miss Parker continued to stare at her office door for well over a minute after Margaret walked out. That woman wanted her to announce her pregnancy? Yeah, right. Let's just get on the P.A. system and broadcast it. "Miss Parker would like to announce a forthcoming addition to the happy little Parker family. The illegitimate son of our favorite pretender and his mistress will be making his home on some disgusting sub-level shortly after birth, never to see daylight again. The baby shower will be held in Renewal Wing where the mommy will be living because she's about to have a nervous breakdown." She burst into tears.


Parker sobbed into her hands for a couple of minutes. She had almost stopped when the thought of Jarod never even knowing his son hit her and she fell apart again. It took her a few more minutes to cut the tears and keep herself to sniffles and an occasional sob. God, she thought, please don't let anybody walk in here now. She spun her chair around and stared out the window at the sky, willing herself to calm down. She blanked her mind and focused on the flower arrangement she had moved to the window, and the way the air circulating through the room almost imperceptibly moved its petals.

After ten minutes or so Parker felt composed enough to go into her private restroom. A splash of cold water on her face helped, and makeup repair covered the red nose and puffy eyes. Once she was satisfied with her ice queen mask she went back to her desk and buzzed the receptionist. She ordered green tea with honey when what she wanted was a shot of single-malt. What she really wanted was a time machine so she could go back and shoot Margaret at St. Gilleabart's rectory, before Jarod got in the way.

Parker decided to blame her loss of control on raging hormones. In a happier time she had told Jarod to be careful of them, now she needed to remember they added to her weakness. This pregnancy that Margaret wanted her to publicize was the chink in her armor of coolness. That the witch had probably been waiting for something like this for years, something to use against her, to control her. God, why did she have to go and fall in love with Jarod? And worst of all, get pregnant? Why?

The receptionist, with her tea, interrupted Parker's moment of self-pity. Parker felt such guilt at her thoughts that she barely mumbled an acknowledgement. She put a hand gently to her stomach. How could she even think that? She loved Cameron, as much as she loved his father. Her eyes filled with tears once more but she managed to blink them back. "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart, I didn't mean it," she whispered. "I never meant to bring you here."

Parker rested her forehead on the heel of her hand and closed her eyes. Well, they were here, whether she wanted it or not. If she was going to keep them together she had to bide her time and obey Margaret. She could not bring herself to announce her pregnancy like it was a Centre victory, so the only option was to leak the news and let it spread through the grapevine. Such a juicy tidbit would move like wildfire. Now, who to tell first?

Who else but the man with his ear permanently attached to the aforementioned grapevine? Broots. Parker dialed his extension. When he answered she said three words, "Get up here," and hung up. He would know who it was and she did not want to answer any questions over the phone. She used the five minutes it took Broots to scurry up the Tower, to steel herself so she could get through the meeting without tears.

Parker's summons surprised Broots. He could not think of anything he had done wrong. He had made her mad yesterday but if she were going to shoot him she would have done it then. He was so lost in thought he hardly noticed the dial tone of the phone still held in his hand. He finally came to himself, jumped up and nearly cracked his head on his desk when he caught his foot on his chair. He started running.

Broots skidded to a halt in front of the Tower elevator and caught his breath while he waited for it to come down. When the elevator door opened, Sam got out. The curious and challenging look he gave Broots nearly made the techie choke. He rushed into the elevator and pushed the button. Sam stared at him until the doors closed and he could breathe again.

The receptionist greeted Broots warmly; he had been nice to her when she first started working for The Centre as a gofer of sorts. That put a smile on Broots' face. It disappeared the second he walked through Miss Parker's door.

"Y.. you need something, Miss Parker?"

"A Bloody Mary, I need the Vitamin C. But we all want things we can't have don't
we?"

"I can get you the drink, or Missy can."

"Missy?"

"Your receptionist..."

"Yes, right. Well, what I really need from you is the name of the biggest rumormonger in this place."

"Did someone say something about you?" he asked with indignation.

Parker almost laughed. He was still willing to defend her; what had she ever done to deserve that? "No, Broots, no rumors I've heard." She continued to smile. "You know all the best gossip. Where do you get it and who would you tell if you wanted news to spread?"

Well, there's Les in Couriers, he reads, er, hears everything. You know him; he's the one that got his ear bit off by the dolphin two years ago. Now he sorta turns his head so the ear he still has..."

"Broots! What is it about you that attracts the deformed? I don't care if he has three ears, as long as his tongue works. I need you to subtly - if that's possible for you - tell him something. I need it to spread and I don't want headlines just whispers." Parker pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Crying had given her a headache.

Broots sat down in one of Parker's chairs. He stared down at the hands he clutched desperately in his lap. Could it be good that Miss Parker wanted gossip leaking out into the Centre? Oh, well, he thought, might as well dive in to the deep end with both feet like he always did with her. Looking up he said, "Right. Ahh, what do you want me to tell him?"

Parker squeezed her eyes tightly shut then opened them again. Her head really was hurting. Broots hadn't missed it either. When she looked over at him, she saw that his curiosity was now tempered by concern.

"Well, it seems the Ice Queen does occasionally get hot and bothered, and this time it was one time too many. I'm pregnant."

Broots' jaw dropped so suddenly he felt a slight pull on the right side of his face. Miss Parker, pregnant? As in having a child pregnant? It couldn't be, could it? A million questions ran through his mind as he bit his tongue to keep from asking them. Questions like who, when, how...well, okay, Broots, my boy, he reminded himself, you know how, but who and when, yeah, that's sort of...then he knew. Broots wasn't sure how he could be so certain, but he knew who the father of Miss Parker's child was, and he knew that somehow that was why she'd come back here. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't yelling at him to snap to or say something, maybe it was the way she kept looking down at the floor as if she hoped a trap door would magically open so she could escape. Maybe it was both.

"Wow," he finally said, "Debbie's gonna be pretty excited about that."

Parker brought her eyes up from the random spot on the floor that held her attention so completely and looked over at Broots. Sometimes he was such a revelation. He could always be counted on to say exactly the wrong thing or ask precisely the wrong question, except, of course, when he said the most absolutely right thing in the world.

"Broots," Parker said, chuckling slightly, "what a perfectly normal response."

He was proud of himself, though he fought not to show it. He could always tell when he'd surprised her, and this was one of those times. It was hard keeping his questions at bay, but he sensed that right now, that's what he should do, so he just stood up and smiled.

"You sure you want people talking about this? You hate it when people discuss you behind your back."

"They're going to do it anyway, and I'd rather be the one to put the information into the channel," she lied. "Just make sure they know that behind my back is where the talk better stay."

"Les is definitely your man. I'll go grab his good ear and let the cat out of the bag. And I promise, whispers only. I'll tell him you've started carrying an extra gun and are prone to big hormonally induced rages."

"Why don't you make something up instead?"

Broots couldn't hold back his laugh at that one. Whatever had brought Miss Parker back here, it hadn't killed her spirit. Not yet.

"I'll see what I can come up with."

Turning, Broots headed over to the office doors. He was just about to step outside when he turned back and looked at her again.

"Oh, Miss Parker?"

She responded only by raising an eyebrow and looking toward him.

"Congratulations."



Jarod woke. He stared at the recessed ceiling light, trying to get his bearings. The past was a blur. His head felt like it was overstuffed with cotton when he turned it slightly to the side. He was not alone. Someone was sitting on a chair in what he somehow identified as his new rooms. Slowly he remembered where he was, back at The Centre. Was that Sydney?

He was about to ask when he realized that he had thought "back" as in he remembered escaping. He remembered being captured by...his mother. He tried to sit up too fast and groaned. He looked at the form in the chair again and concentrated. "Mother?"

"You need to call me 'Miss Abbott' now," came the soft reply.

He tried to sit again. His head did not want to leave the pillow.

"Take your time, Jarod, I cleared my calendar for the day."

"Big of you," he mumbled. He rolled onto his side and propped himself with his arm. Slowly he managed to sit erect. His head still weighed too much to raise it. "What happened? Did I develop a tolerance for the drugs too?"

"No, the drugs work."

"Then why do I have the misfortune of remembering who you are?"

"Careful, Jarod, I could change my mind," she replied without malice.

Jarod scowled at her by way of comment.

Margaret continued, "You gave me the excuse I wanted. You said you had evidence on Lyle, and that is something I can use."

"So, after I give you the information, then you wipe my memory?"

"Perhaps," she paused, "perhaps not. It depends on your behavior. The drugs are still there and still work." She paused again and put on a smile. "However, I can see that your outside experience has made a difference in you. I'm curious to see if you're able to use that powerful mind of yours for more than making The Centre money. Call it an experiment if you like. If you behave and prove yourself I'll allow you to have more freedom."

Jarod looked at her from under his brows. "Will I notice this change?"

Margaret's smile broadened. "Not for a bit."

"Then what's the difference to me? The joy of our newfound relationship?"

"I hear that you appreciate my power for what it can do for you. Eventually you might have some small share of that power."

"So if I do all the pretends you throw at me I might get to see daylight, maybe even get my own little garden on the roof."

"More than that. After Miss Parker is firmly in place here, my presence will no longer be necessary..."

Jarod interrupted, "I thought Miss Parker was your golden child." Anger was still evident in his voice.

"Don't be jealous, Jarod. When she neither needs nor tolerates my assistance, I'll return to Britain. You'll come with me."

"What if she wants me to stay here?" She had given him a glimmer of hope.

"By then she won't want you either, Jarod." Margaret assured him.

Jarod's head snapped up in recognition of her certainty. "That's the truth isn't it?"

"Yes, The Centre is her destiny. You are both bound by your destinies. If you finally recognize it, I approve."

"I'm not sure I want your approval, or your half-promises."

"But you'd love to have my power right now, wouldn't you?"

He smiled daggers at her.

She laughed shortly. "Yes, you would love it. I know what you'd do with it too. Don't worry. You don't need to love me, just obey me. I think you can do that with proper incentive."

"Was this whole production staged to give me incentive?" His voice quavered as he spoke. He put a hand to his head.

"It was a demonstration." Margaret changed subjects briefly. "There's pain medication on the bedside table. Take it. I've been told you should also drink plenty of water." She waited until Jarod took the pills, and returned to their conversation. "To tell the truth," she paused and smiled her best smile. "I really didn't decide not to eradicate your memories until the last second." The smile disappeared, "Don't make me regret it."

Jarod sighed. He wondered if the drug made him less willing to argue. "Now what?"

"Now I will order us late lunch and we will have a civil conversation. Afterwards, we'll go to the workroom and you'll show me the information that saved your memories. If it's good enough, I'll put it to use and we'll come to an agreement on how you'll behave in the future."

"Do I have any say in this at all?"

"You're lucky you have the ability to even ask that question."

"Just get me coffee." Jarod lay back on the bed and put his arm over his eyes.

Margaret called for chicken noodle soup and salads; they arrived shortly. She walked to Jarod's bed and gently shook his arm. He startled and for a second he imagined it was all a dream. She was so beautiful, his mother, and she looked at him with love, real affection. No, his vision cleared; then pain returned to his head and heart. She was the reason he was here and he wanted no part of her lies.

Jarod rose from the bed smoothly, his headache fading slightly. Margaret backed away, then turned and took her place at the table. She picked up a delicate cup of tea. Jarod raised his mug of coffee and gulped it down.

Margaret filled Jarod in on the background of the Hong Kong business. He smiled appreciatively at her strategy. He was pleased that the original suspects were cleared. He was not pleased to learn that the three bankers to blame were missing. Lyle had almost solved his riddle.

"You shouldn't point fingers, Jarod, your outside pretends have been bold to the point of overconfidence. Your retributions always stopped just short of death, but you can't say they stopped short of violence."

"It was justified."

"You can rationalize anything you want to. Care to tell me how you justified stealing organs, in a filthy motel room, from a live and unwilling convict?"

Their dialogue continued along the same lines for a while. Jarod briefly forgot how much he hated this woman and enjoyed conversing with someone who knew his whole story.

Margaret also enjoyed their lunch and their conversation. She was almost loath to stop. After Jarod's third cup of coffee, reality returned. "We have business; let's get to a computer."

"It would be easier if you put one in here."

"Yes, far too easy. I think your computer usage needs monitoring at the very least. I prefer that Centre funds, and you, stay where you are now."

Jarod smiled slightly. They moved to the workroom where he had met with Sydney. A computer was installed on the worktable and switched on. Jarod sat in front of it and punched a few keys. "Okay, now for the bad news. I don't have the promised information on Lyle."

Margaret frowned. "You lied to me?"

Jarod laughed aloud. "Excuse me? Who lied more?"

Margaret sighed. "Did you lie?"

"No, I found the evidence. It will take me a while to reassemble it and deliver it to you."

Is there a timetable on that?"

"It will take weeks to a month."

Margaret gave Jarod a doubtful look.

Jarod ducked his head. "I'm not dogging it. I took me a lot longer to put it all together the first time. Honestly. Umm, I may need to make a phone call or two and have things mailed to me."

"I'll set up a P.O. box in Dover. I examine any packages before you see them. Any conversations will be monitored and made in my presence. Anything else you need?"

"No."

"Now for your conduct rules. You will address me as 'Miss Abbot. You will not acknowledge our relationship. You will obey me."

Jarod lifted an eyebrow.

"Several people know your memory was to be eradicated today. I want everyone to think it was. Buchan will fill you in on the cover story. Can you pretend?"

"Yes." Jarod simmed the repercussions of that pretense.

"If you can work with Sydney, within those parameters, I will allow it."

"If not, who gets me? Raines?"

"Raines won't be here much longer. That's your first assignment. You told me you had enough financial information on him to put the Triumvirate at his throat. How long for you to access it?"

"Two days max. Um...it's not necessarily all about him, but if you want, I can make it look that way." He looked at her knowingly, "Anyone in power has fiscal skeletons.

Margaret chuckled. "I think I should monitor you very closely. I think Mr. Raines' real 'sins' will do for now."

Jarod nodded.

"As to who would replace Sydney, I don't think any of the other psychologists here are up to dealing with you."

"I don't know if I can keep up the farce with Sydney. I'd rather not."

"Then I'll take over."

Jarod was not surprised. "Fine." Keep your enemies closer. "What will happen to him?"

"Sydney is still valuable, despite the indiscretions that resulted from his attachment to you. Miss Parker feels close to him and, although I want them kept apart, I don't think it's advantageous to completely eradicate her past."

"Just my part of it," he grumbled.

"For the record, that was Miss Parker's decision, and we will no longer discuss her. Distance will soothe your hurt. This leads me to a few other rules. You will not seek out Miss Parker. If you should 'run into' her you will pretend that you have not seen her since she worked in Corporate. That would have been part of your wipe. You will speak to her like a stranger."

"You're not going to tell her the truth?" That was interesting.

"Not for the moment and neither will you. That decision was made. Leave it be."

"Or?"

"Jarod, you know the 'or.' Do not make me repeat myself."

"Fine. Anything else?" He pushed away from the computer.

Margaret sighed her exasperation. "Extend the rules to the fetus. You will not know the child is yours. Remember, if you aren't up to pretending on a long-term basis I can make it real."

Jarod did not argue with the finality of that statement. He nodded, and looked at the floor. He hated this; his whole life under Centre rule. Now the mother he searched for after he liberated himself was telling him his best prospect was being her leashed pet. He had to find some other way to get out from under. "Can this wait till tomorrow? I still feel hung-over."

"Yes, but it can't wait long. I want a commitment from you. And I want Raines gone." Margaret rose and left the room.

"There's the one thing we agree on," Jarod mumbled. A sweeper came in and
escorted him back to his rooms.




It was mid-afternoon when Margaret left Jarod. The day was still young enough to take care of a little more business before she returned to her office.

Sydney was concentrating on analysis of a group of sub-auditory sound stimulus reactions when he got an unannounced visitor. He looked over his reading glasses, saw who it was and braced himself for more bad news. "Miss Abbott," he acknowledged her presence.

"I appreciate your using the correct name, Doctor, and I appreciate the care you have given my son over the years."

"I was under the impression that you did not want Jarod to be referred to as such."

"I don't, but you are one of the few who know the relationship."

"Here it is seldom safe to know unwanted secrets."

"You know a good many of them, so one more will have little impact to your survival prospects."

"Which are?"

"Good, as long as you follow the rules. I hear you don't feel that Jarod wants to work with you now."

"He did not seem interested in continuing our relationship, but I got ...the impression that you intend to change that."

"Jarod's memory has been wiped," Margaret announced blandly. "I replaced the last six months with memories of working with me while you were out of the country. The rest is a blank supposedly caused by illness. He will be comfortable working with me, but I came to offer you another chance at him."

Sydney took the information in stride "And if I decline, what happens?"

"You will be reassigned, and continue your research projects at another Centre facility away from here."

"Considering ...circumstances here, I think that might be best."

"I agree."

"How long before I have to leave?"

"I'll allow you two weeks to finish up any projects that won't travel well. After that you will be persona non grata here, do you understand?"

"Quite well."

"Good. I'll tell..."

Just then Broots rushed into the room, practically yelling. "Hey, Syd, wait till you hear." Margaret and Sydney both jumped. Broots smile disappeared when he realized who was in the room. He stopped dead. "Oh, oh my, I didn't know...I'm sorry, I have something to tell Sydney. But, but I'll come back. It's sorta neat, but I'll come back later. No big deal. Excuse me." He backed toward the door as quickly as he had entered.

"Broots I believe, stay; I'm leaving," she said without anger. She returned her gaze to Sydney. "You will both be given your new assignments within a few days."

Broots watched her leave, mouth agape, and then her words sank in. "Assignments?"

"I believe you will need a moving van in the near future. Now, it sounded like you had good news and I could use some. Come, tell me."



Margaret took the Tower elevator. She wondered if she could gauge Miss Parker's response to the news by Sydney's non-reaction. One could hope.

Margaret intended to go to Miss Parker's office immediately, but the receptionist signaled her as soon as she walked into the suite. The girl was desperately trying to handle a call from Paris. Her French was reasonably adequate but the caller was indignant, yelling at top speed, and demanding to speak with Miss Abbott. The caller's voice went down several decibels as soon as Margaret told the receptionist to transfer the call to her office.

Margaret recognized the caller mid-way through his first sentence. He recognized her and calmed appreciably. The rest of the conversation revolved around Raines suddenly changing his schedule and canceling several meetings. The caller and his influential friends had lost some of their own money with The Centre's. Margaret placated him, assured him that the money would be recovered and moved him on to small talk and a commitment for more business.

All that took a while. By the time the call ended Margaret knew Parker would be preparing to leave for the day. She did not want a scene at the compound. She dismissed the receptionist and knocked on Parker's door.

Parker looked up from a profit statement that she was reading for the third time - her powers of concentration had deserted her hours ago - and motioned the older woman in.

Margaret considered starting with small talk or mentioning her brief meeting with Sydney and Broots, but discarded both ideas. She got directly to the point. "Jarod's memory is wiped. It went quite well. He did not fight or whine; he took it like a man.

"His memories of the past six to eight months have been replaced with memories of working with me. Sydney's absence from his life was explained by a prestigious teaching opportunity in Austria. The past few years beyond that were simply blanked. This was explained by telling him he contracted viral encephalitis of some sort. The doctors will give him a plausible medical history and show him DSAs to reinforce the story.

"He has no memory of you working here, except for Corporate, and no memory of interaction after you were children. I want it kept that way."

Parker nodded numbly. Suddenly she felt nauseated; she was glad she hadn't eaten since early in the morning. She just wanted Margaret to leave.

Margaret watched her protégé closely. Parker remained calm, and that pleased her. Every day the younger woman's behavior improved, but she seemed stressed. That was certainly understandable. She looked somehow drawn or thin, not exactly sick but not well either. Margaret decided it was enough for the day and did not ask Parker if she had followed her orders concerning a pregnancy announcement. "It's time to pack up and go home, Miss Parker. Tomorrow is another day."

Parker did not reply. She was not going home and another day of this was more than she could contemplate at the moment. She bent over to reach for her briefcase and the nausea hit her in the stomach like a brick. "I'm not taking work home today, Margaret," Parker said as she left her desk and practically ran for the door.

Margaret had seen the green cast come over Miss Parker's face. She did not reprimand her for calling her by her given name and made no move to hold her in the room. Pregnancy with the future prince allowed for a certain leeway. Margaret took her time returning to her office and ending her workday.




Miss Parker did not quite make it to fresh air. She had to stop in a first floor restroom and retch for a few minutes. She splashed cold water on her face for the second time in the day, and exited to Sam's concerned expression. "I'm fine, Sam, nothing for you to worry about. You'll see."

Sam nodded, unconvinced, and escorted her to the town car and driver Margaret had assigned her.

In some ways Parker would be glad when the story had spread through The Centre. One less lie; she was so tired of lies. She rode back to Margaret's compound with the window open. The crisp air eased her nausea and numbed her nose. It seemed to numb her mind as well.

It was impossible to even think about supper, but, to Parker's surprise, Margaret had tea and dry toast sent to her room, and allowed her to eat alone in her room. After supper she took a short walk in the dark frosted garden and felt a touch better. She sat on a small wooden bench and admired the clear night sky and the shape of a leafless crabapple tree. She returned to her room to find a cup of clear broth that she felt she could keep down. She took the calcium antacids, took a long hot bath and went to bed.




As Margaret had predicted, William Raines strode into The Centre's front lobby two days after the news of Miss Parker's return "leaked" its way to Switzerland. The fact that he had chartered a non-Centre aircraft for the trip home made it all the more ill omened.

Mr. Raines touched down in Blue Cove shortly before 8 o'clock in the evening. The Centre support group, evening shift scrambled to stay out of sight and still observe the scene. Buchan had designated at least one person per shift to call him the second anything possibly important happened there. The call came at 8:19; Buchan was knocking on Margaret's door at 8:20. He did not wait for Margaret to answer.

Margaret was in front if her dressing table, wearing her robe and a frown. "I don't recall asking you to come here or giving permission to enter."

Buchan was not overly worried; any punishment would be meted out later when his mistress needed to relax a bit. He broke the news that brought him, "Raines is back."

Margaret was up from her chair in a flash. "What the hell do you mean 'He's back?'" she shouted in his face.

Buchan winced. He was not normally afraid of Margaret, unless she was enraged. He decided she was, and it was best to back away slowly. "I was just told that he walked into The Centre."

Margaret spun around and started pacing around the room; her hands were balled into fists that she swung up as though she might hit someone. "How did he get out of Zurich let alone back into the country without your knowing?"

"I was aware of his departure from Zurich. He had a dinner meeting in Berlin, Centre business, with a German client. Somewhere en route he must have changed cars and a look-alike kept the appointment."

Margaret stopped in her tracks and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We were keeping tabs on him. I got confirmation of Raines arrival in Berlin and was told his whereabouts at all times. According to our agents he's on his way back to Zurich. Unfortunately it's the double. And now the real Mr. Raines is here."

"You know I hate foul-ups, Buchan."

"Yes, ma'am, I do know."

"I want the doppelganger and your spies questioned. I want to know if any of them were paid off or in on some plan. And then I want them taken care of."

"I'll do what's appropriate." He mumbled. He waited for her to verbally rip his head off for dodging the full intent of her order; one of the agents in Berlin was a trusted friend.

Margaret did not notice the evasion; she had other things on her mind. She had to get between Raines and the others. If he did anything to Miss Parker all was lost. If he got Jarod to spill the truth she was on shaky ground. If he allied with the Chairman, she was as good as dead. She looked at her near panicked face in her mirror and instantly came to a stop. This would not do. She turned to Buchan who still stood by the door. "Get the car. Five minutes. Where's Miss Parker?"

"In her rooms."

"Keep this quiet." Margaret put on a smile. "She needs her rest. Now get out."

Buchan nodded with a soft grunt and exited the room. He felt as though he had dodged a bullet but the gun was still loaded.




Mr. Raines' arrival was unannounced but not unnoticed. His expression was so much the antithesis of friendliness that it sent a wave of unease before it and left total silence in its wake. He appeared a man on a mission, stopping briefly in his office and then going straight to the sublevel elevator, and Jarod.

Jarod was happily oblivious of the arrival until his door opened. He jumped up off his bed, startled from dozing over a thick and uninteresting file. The face in the doorway startled him even more; he backed away involuntarily. Why hadn't his mother warned him? Then he saw the anger on Raines' face and knew she was going to be as surprised as he was. Okay, time to dredge up how to behave with Raines.

"Mr. Raines," a greeting almost a question.

"Jarod," Raines' slithery smooth voice and smile hid the antagonism in his eyes. He stepped into the room. Willie filled the doorway.

Jarod noted Willie and retreated appropriately.

"Don't be afraid, Jarod," Raines cooed, "I just wanted to see for myself that you're back."

"Back?" Jarod portrayed total confusion.

"Home, in The Centre." Now Raines was confused.

"Sydney said the same thing. I don't understand. I was never gone."

Raines did not speak for a second; his forehead furrowed while he came to the realization that Jarod's memory might have been wiped again. "What's the last thing you remember before this week?"

"Working. The same thing I've always done... Why does everyone ask me that?"

"So you remember working with Sydney two months ago?"

"No, Sydney was in Europe on sabbatical for the last six months and I've been sick." Jarod added to his story. "But you know that, don't you? You made me sick... I forgot...you were experimenting with a vaccine and it didn't work." He feigned returning memories, "and you gave me the encephalitis!" he accused.

"Encephalitis?"

"You cost me the last five years of my memory. Can The Centre take any more from me?" Jarod had little problem bringing forth near-hysterical anger. "What else do you want?"

"Calm down, Jarod." Raines held up his hands. "So, you're saying that you lost your memories?"

"What are you planning to do to me now?"

"Nothing!" a voice boomed from the doorway as Mr. Parker shouldered past Willie. "Raines, get out of here. The man's been sick." Mr. Parker nodded his head toward the door.

Mr. Raines refocused on his cohort. "And your daughter?"

"Is where she belongs, at home after a day in her office," Parker said
emphatically, "and we need to talk."

"Obviously." Raines looked at Jarod analytically. "So Sydney's been away and you've been working with me?"

"Not till the experiment." Jarod shook his head emphatically. "I've been working with Miss Abbott." Jarod smiled honestly. Inside he was rolling with laughter, waiting for the reaction.

It was as good as expected. Raines' mouth dropped open. "With Margaret?" he breathed. He looked quickly back and forth between Jarod and Mr. Parker.

"Not now, Raines!" Mr. Parker grabbed the other man's arm and pushed him toward the door.

"All right, all right, I'm going" Raines pushed Parker's hand away but moved out of the room. He glanced around one more time before leaving. "I'll be in my office."


Mr. Parker pulled out the same device he had used the day of Jarod's return. Surveillance was blocked. Jarod smiled. The elder man studied the younger for a moment. Jarod's smile broadened.

"His arrival was a surprise. I promised to keep him away; I'm sorry. I'll deal with him."

"Centre promises." Jarod's smile faded. The two continued to study each other.

Mr. Parker walked to the open door. He looked up and down the empty hall; then returned to Jarod. "We're alone. I want to know what really happened."

"My memory was wiped by a virus." Jarod answered simply.

Mr. Parker growled in frustration and turned away. His hands became fists that he brought down on his own legs.

"...or my mother." Jarod saw an opportunity to play; his smile almost returned.

Mr. Parker spun around, his surprise quickly changing to calculation. "This 'virus' would keep you here without any contact from your family?"

"Yes," neutrally.

"And this is why Sydney's upset? He feels he can no longer work with you."

"My heart goes out to him," said with insincerity. "Where is she sending him?"

"Where am I sending him? Contrary to what your mother wants everyone to believe, she is still not in control. New York of Chicago probably, I'm not sending him very far. I want him available if my daughter needs him. Broots has been reassigned as his research assistant."

"Broots too? Miss Abbott is doing a good job of separating her from her support system."

"Yes, and I'm sure I'm next."

"Going without a fight?" Jarod asked with a smile.

"Are you? Mr. Parker returned the question.

Jarod gauged how much he should trust the other man and how much he could push. "What are you offering?"

One side of Mr. Parker's mouth went up in a half grin. "I thought you didn't believe my promises?"


Jarod's smile broadened and became evil. "For the sake of argument let's pretend to believe each other."

"Very well. What if I offer you your freedom?"

Jarod nearly choked. It was an offer he never expected. He wrapped his mind around it and looked for the catch. "Define freedom."

Mr. Parker watched Jarod's shock turn to a healthy level of suspicion. "You can walk out the door and never come back."

"And your daughter?"

"I believe she's made her decision."

"There are other considerations."

"Your child, yes, I know about it. I would have preferred that one of its parents told me rather than Margaret's pulling it out of her sleeve, but I know."

"Not 'it', 'he.' I'm surprised there wasn't an announcement."

"It's a boy?" Mr. Parker was pleased. "No, she hasn't made it public, but one of my people informed me that the rumor's spreading."

"I think you'll understand that I'm less than thrilled to have my son relive my wonderful life."

"He won't." The future grandfather sighed. "You know, Jarod, that you and my daughter were destined for each other. All I ever wanted was to allow you two to find each other, in here or outside, and convince my Angel that this was where she belonged."

"Happy ever after. And where did you see me in this fairytale?"

"Beside her, maybe a step behind. I had hoped you would come to appreciate what The Centre can do for the world and possibly even participate."

Jarod huffed.

"Your son will eventually take the reigns of The Centre, not live in its depths."

"What about your sons?"

"My youngest is being quietly cared for, far from here. And my other son," his voice deepened, "might be ...dangerous if allowed free rein."

"Do you know how dangerous he really is?"

"I know what I need to know about him, Jarod, all I want to know. I also know that the two of you hate each other, so I wouldn't believe anything you tell me."

"Blinders can be dangerous, when there's evil walking beside you."

"I've walked with evil all my life. Would I be any safer with you by my side?"

Jarod chuckled once. "Then when do I get to walk out the door?"

"When this is over. Until then, you can find out what your mother has planned and some way around it."

"So, nothing changes. I'd still be living on promises. I think your daughter and my mother have finally disabused me of the ever after fantasy, and I'm tired of being manipulated."

"Then tell me what you want, aside from freedom."

"I want my son."

"You can't take him, and you can't tell me you'll work for us."

"At this point I might be willing to settle for seeing him grow up." Jarod sighed. So little to ask, so little to settle for. "I don't know that I can stand to stay here, to work for you...or your daughter. But I want to know my son."

"I see. You are willing to do something for your son, even if it's against your moral beliefs."

Jarod nodded, in agreement and acknowledgement of the parallel.

"Then we may finally understand each other." They looked one other in the eye for a moment. "I'll be seeing you soon." Mr. Parker patted Jarod on the shoulder. He switched off the blocking mechanism. His voice took on angry frustration, "Now I have to pay Raines a visit." He walked out of the room.

Jarod was alone again. He sat down on his bed, and wondered how he had managed to sell his soul to The Centre twice in one week.




Mr. Raines was waiting in his office as promised. Mr. Parker joined him and filled him in on the past few days. He verified Margaret's sudden return with her son and his daughter. He said that Margaret was doing her best to limit access to her son, and that Jarod believed the cover story he had just recounted. He also relayed that Jarod did not remember Margaret as his mother.

In turn, Raines filled the other man in on his end of the financial diversion. He added his opinion that it was engineered to get him out of town. Mr. Parker found that easy to believe.

That led to the subject of Miss Parker and her ascendance to the throne. Raines adamantly refused to let the reins of power pass over him and on to the next generation, and there was no way in heaven or hell that he would let Margaret have them. If the Chairman did not want his position he would be more than glad to take it over. Mr. Parker needed Raines support if he was going to keep Margaret at bay, so he allowed the rant without argument.

Finally Raines stepped over the line and threatened Miss Parker's life. The elder of the two men raised his voice to silence the other, and Margaret Abbott walked through the door. She heard.

She took in the scene and was pleased to see obvious antagonism between the two men in the room. "Would you care to back up that threat, Raines?"

"Margaret, when I decide to eliminate problems around here, you'll be the first to know." Raines leered at the new arrival. He also noted Buchan's entrance into the room behind her. Willie in tern straightened in position behind Raines.

Margaret smiled and crossed her arms. "You've had your chance to take care of business; the Triumvirate feels it's time for a change."

"Since when does the Triumvirate whisper in your ear?"

"Since neither of you have made any real progress toward the future." She looked from one man to the other.

Now Mr. Parker entered into the conversation. "I have the ear of the Africans. They know what we've accomplished here and they are pleased with the profits on their investment."

"Even you know that money isn't everything to them, any more than it matters to you in the long run. The future is coming, it's sleeping at my compound as we speak and you would both be wise to step out of the way before you're run over." She stared at Raines while she spoke.

"Neither you nor your new puppet threaten me, Margaret." Raines growled, rising from his chair.

Margaret uncrossed her arms and took a step toward Raines. "Stand in our way or get out of it. Choose your own fate."

Raines returned to his seat and leaned toward her over his desk. "We'll see who's left standing." He took a quick look at Mr. Parker.


Mr. Parker returned the look for a beat; he grunted and turned to Margaret. "This is going nowhere. I'm going home." He walked past Margaret, glancing at Buchan as he passed and strode purposefully down the corridor.


Raines was not finished and said so. Margaret ignored him and left him still talking, his voice rising as it followed her down the hall. Nothing he said was important to her. But she did need to talk to someone else.

Jarod was leaning back against the headboard, glumly staring into space, when his mother walked into the room. He focused on her and her obvious displeasure. "This is turning into a really popular spot tonight." He stretched his legs and put his arms behind his head.

Margaret stood by the foot of the bed and put her hands on her hips. "What did Raines say?"

"'Welcome home,' the usual theme around here. It seems like you think if you say it enough I'll believe it."

"What did you tell him?"



The cover story, as fabricated by you, with a few embellishments," Jarod smiled, "You would have approved. He bought it. Old Man Parker bought it too. He even stayed behind to express his condolences about my virus." Jarod chuckled.

"You think this is funny? Don't be a fool. Raines may have bought your story but that man will have you knifed in the hallway if he thinks it will get him a step up with the Africans. He just threatened Miss Parker to her father and me. Do you doubt that he'll carry out his threats?"

"He threatened her?" Jarod caught the concern in his voice and changed his tone. "That's your problem. Why should I care?"

"Please!" She did not believe a word but she let it ride, "And you should care because your son is on board for anything he does to her."

"So you want to get rid of him now?" Jarod had little problem with that.

"I see no point in prolonging the danger. How long until you have what I need?"

"I live up to my bargains; I promised two days and I did it. I'll have it on disk and hard copies in triplicate as soon as you let me near the computer again. I can do it right now." Jarod swung his legs off the bed and prepared to stand.

Margaret did a quick internal audit. She was tired and her neck was stiff from tension. "No not tonight. Buchan will be here first thing in the morning to watch you. Then you'll bring your results to my office."

"To your office? You mean I get to see sunlight?"


"Jarod, enough." Jarod's flippancy was irritating. She turned to leave and saw the amused smile on Buchan's face. "You think his cheek is funny? As funny as your surveillance lapse?" Anger was still evident in her voice.

Buchan's smile evaporated. He notice that Jarod tensed on the bed. "No, ma'am." It was best to keep response simple.

She swung back toward Jarod. "I want the evidence when I get here at 8. Buchan will be in at 6. Will that give you comedians enough time?"

"Yes." Jarod knew he had pushed his luck a step too far.

"Good and good night." She walked out of the room. Buchan widened his eyes for Jarod's benefit, and then quickly followed.

Jarod slid down on the bed and closed his eyes; a quiet smile spread across his mouth. He had managed to push one of Margaret's buttons.




If there was one side effect of pregnancy that Parker was grateful for, it was exhaustion. Were it not for the constant demands that Cameron's development put on her body, tiring her completely, she would never be able to sleep now, and she knew it. But tonight, as had been the case each night before, no matter what turmoil was plaguing Parker, she had slipped into sleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow. She didn't even try to fight it. The rest was important to her baby, and so she simply embraced the darkness that night brought.

Tonight proved darker than most.


Parker had seen herself in the Centre. Cameron toddled beside her, his two-year-old legs moving quickly to keep pace with Parker's long stride. She smiled down at him, and caught his brown eyes looking up at her full of adoration. At least she had done that - at least she had kept her son with her and, so far, she had kept him feeling happy and loved despite his place in the Centre. He ran his sims happily, assuming they were a game, and the fact that he won praise for each success only fueled his desire to do more. Parker knew that the Triumvirate was coming to view Cameron as a true jewel, perhaps one even more valuable than his father. The day was soon approaching when she would have to make some protective maneuvers to make certain control of her son's life stayed in her hands.


She was thinking that very thought and reaching out for Cameron's outstretched left hand when the elevator doors opened and Margaret emerged with Jarod at her side. It was a rare day when Parker actually saw him, and she felt her breath catch as her eyes moved over him. He was still fit, still beautiful, with a touch of gray just starting at his temples. He was still the co-owner of her heart, too, that was evident from the small shudder that ran through her upon seeing him.

Margaret had once promised that her passion for Jarod would cool, but it never had and Parker ached for him still. But the terms of her deal were still the same. Margaret was not ready to trust that Parker could be with Jarod and not try to give him back his memories, and Parker had not yet unseated Margaret, and so was still at the mercy of her "mentor's" whims.

Jarod looked up then and smiled at her. He remembered her fondly from their childhood and when he saw her he addressed her always as "Miss Parker" in a very formal tone. Gone was the playful seductiveness of him calling her Parker. And the loving endearment he had lavished upon her in Scotland, Annschad, was not even a memory to him.


Margaret watched, Parker could feel her watching, and so she took a deep, slow breath and then returned Jarod's smile in a perfunctory manner. She was about to turn and walk away when she felt the small hand held within her own break free. Cameron was already halfway to Jarod before Parker could start to move.

"Cameron, no," Parker called out, but it was too late. By the time she had actually caught up with her son, he was holding onto the pants leg of Jarod's linen bottoms, pulling to get the older man's attention. Parker held her breath, her eyes moving from Jarod to Margaret, and for the first time in a very long time Parker was uncertain what to do. She could follow Margaret's orders, lie to her friends, order heinous acts in the name of her son's survival – but how did she stand here and watch Cameron speak to his father with no idea how important Jarod really was to him?

She could do nothing but watch now, and wait. Jerking Cameron away would arouse suspicion and upset her son. So she kept waiting. Jarod looked down at the small boy and lowered down into a squat so that he was now eye-level with the child.


"Hello there, who are you?" Jarod asked, the childlike quality of his voice once again present following the memory wipe and the erasure of his desire to be in the outside world.

"I'm Cameron. Who you?"

Jarod smiled and extended his hand to the little boy. "I'm Jarod." Cameron took his hand as Parker had taught him to and Jarod shook the little boy's hand gently. Then he stood back up and looked her in the eyes.

"Is he yours, Miss Parker?"

Margaret was watching even more intently now, and Parker smiled as she looked first down at Cameron and then up at Jarod. "Yes, he is."

Jarod took one more glance at the boy, then he returned his gaze to her. "I see you in his face and mouth. He must have his father's eyes."


'Yes, he does,' Parker thought before realizing how close she was to losing control of her emotions. She wanted to grab Jarod and yell at him and say, 'don't you remember, Jarod? He's our son. He's your son. We love each other and we made love and he's our son. But she knew that she couldn't. Instead, Parker fought not to break. She couldn't. All the suffering couldn't be for nothing. Unable to trust her voice now, she only nodded in agreement with Jarod. She saw Margaret nod in approval as the older woman took Jarod by the arm and led him away.


Parker stood, unable to move for fear that she would begin crying and never be able to stop. In her encounters with Jarod before, she had always held out some small shred of hope that he was only pretending to forget and that when he saw their son, she would see that she was right and know he still held the memory of them in his heart. But now she knew the truth. Her Jarod was gone, and she was alone again except for the little boy who reached out and took tight hold of her hand. Feeling his grip, Parker looked down into his smiling face and deep chocolate brown eyes.

Yes, Jarod, he has your eyes.

Parker woke to the sound of crying and realized only after feeling the tears on her face that it was she who had made the noise. As the horrible empty feeling in her dream came back to her full force, Parker curled herself into a tight ball, her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Please forgive me, Cameron. Please know that I never wanted this."




During the ride home Margaret was silent. She was angry with her son and her chief sweeper, and herself. She allowed too much familiarity from both. Such liberties bred contempt and she could not afford either of them exploiting any seeming weakness. In truth she needed both of them as much as she needed Miss Parker and if she had to destroy any of the three it would, in turn, weaken her.


She could lessen her reliance on Buchan, but that seemed necessary for the moment. She had him close enough to watch. That thought led her to think about the remainder of the evening. She could use a massage, a thorough massage, but that would leave him thinking he was forgiven for the mistakes in Switzerland. He was not. That debacle forced her to take a heavy-handed approach to Raines elimination and she preferred subtlety in all things.

So Margaret went to her room alone and took hot shower instead of other, more relaxing, choices, and then went to bed alone. It had been an all-around bad evening and the only bright spot was that she would see Jarod's evidence first thing in the morning. After that Raines would be talking to the worms.



[Editor's note: This Round Robin is closed to submissions, though not complete. There are no plans at this time to continue it. Please do not harrass the authors, thank you.]