Moments in Time
part 1
by TerriH





Jarod had become accustomed to the narrow escapes and fast thinking required to evade the sweepers whenever The Centre got too close. More than once he’d had to take a back door or dash down an alley being chased and under a fog of bullets. Over time he’d learned how to keep distance between himself and those who chased him. But…a man who’s hunted always fears one moment.


Chicago, IL

Jarod’s lungs burned as he crashed through the bank doors and into the freezing air of midtown Chicago in January. He stumbled on a slick spot in the sidewalk and then hurled himself ahead of the sweepers whose footsteps were just behind him. He knew the street and had mentally noted his escape route before going to the Chicago Savings and Investment Bank. His eyes focused on the corner and an alley he was running toward. He knew it would have cover, and he needed to get out of view. If he could misdirect the sweepers, it would be easier to get away.

It had been a calculated risk. He’d located Catherine Parker’s safety deposit box using The Centre’s mainframe and information that was in a relatively unprotected file. He knew that Mr. Parker and Raines were aware he had penetrated the computer’s memory files. He had to assume they might leave him some false leads. The file seemed to indicate that Catherine had collected Centre files on the taken and placed them in the safety deposit box just before she was murdered. He hoped to find a trace of his family. That hope evaporated when he spotted the sweepers inside.

Jarod’s mouth was dry and his lungs screamed in pain as the cold air rushed through his lungs. His legs burned as they pumped up and down, moving him closer to the edge of the building. He could hear the shouts of the sweepers behind him. He could hear the sound of his own heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through his body.

Jarod had faced moments like this before. He’d always managed to be a step ahead. He’d always managed to spot the trap before it could be sprung. He knew how Parker and Sidney thought. He knew how to anticipate their traps. He had less experience outwitting the Tower. He’d been their pawn, but he’d not had many opportunities to understand them the way he understood Parker.

Jarod’s right foot slipped as his foot caught the edge of a snowbank. He rounded the corner, half falling. His eyes, focused on the sight of a man in a suit running up the alley. A sweeper. Jarod’s forward momentum stopped, but before he could turn, he was tackled from behind. His knees buckled under as he toppled forward, face down on the wet asphalt. Jarod’s left knee twisted as he fell, instantly full of fire as the tendons screamed. Before he had time to react, another sweeper pilled on top, pinning his remaining leg and torquing his arm back and up past his spine in a submission hold.

So many times… so close, so many times he’d managed to get away… Tears burned in his eyes, tears he couldn’t let free. Anger and fear rose in him. His muscles burned and he felt a sharp tearing heat in his shoulder as he tried to will his muscles to be stronger, as he tried to fight his way free of his tormentors.

“No! No…” His voice was horse, more a scream and a plead than a statement. His eyes came up in time to see the sweeper from down the alley level a large caliber handgun at his brow. His eyes focusing involuntarily down the dark center of the barrel.

“Time to go home, Jarod.” The sweeper behind him laughed. Jarod felt the smooth plastic of a quick tie loop going over his wrists. His head was pounding. Tears came fast, despite his effort to hold them back. He felt cold seeping into his clothes, into his skin.

Jarod heard the screech of tires to his right as a dark sedan lurched to a stop at the mouth of the alley. He glanced to the side. One of the sweepers jerked him upright by wrenching back on his shoulder. The pain caused his vision to momentarily blank out. His arms were pinned behind him, but he was at least on his feet again. He could feel the breath of one of the sweepers on his neck. Two more stood at each side, controlling his movement.

“You can’t do this….” Jarod’s eyes were wide, afraid, frantic. His voice was pleading and horse. Jarod flexed his shoulders and bent at the waist, attempting to shift his weight forward and sprint free of the sweepers flanking him. He managed to shift side to side, but couldn’t evade all the bodies and hands there to contain him. Fire raged up his leg from his injured knee. He knew it was pointless. He couldn’t get past them. Sights and sounds of the street swirled around him. He fought to contain his panic, to think past it. The world was closing in, collapsing, or so it felt. Despair began to settle inside his muscles, and he stopped fighting.

Jarod was pushed toward the sedan that had pulled into the alley. The car door opened. Jarod saw a gray suit and polished leather shoes as someone stepped out onto the street. He saw the gloved hand before his gaze rose to Lyle’s face. Jarod’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest. In his mind, one word repeated, “No. No. No.” Lyle smiled smugly and pointed at the trunk. The sweeper team began shoving Jarod toward the rear of the car.

“You can’t do this!” Jarod locked eyes with Lyle, knowing it was a futile effort, but commanding Lyle to listen. Jarod’s desperation increased as the trunk door popped open. He was shoved forward, controlled by the pain in his shoulders. He looked from right to left, frantically looking for some means of escape.

Jarod was off his feet before he had a chance to register that he was being thrown into the trunk. He struggled against the hands pushing him down into it. Kicking with his left leg, he struck the side of the car, sending tingling jolts of pain up into his calf.

“Lyle, don’t do this!” Jarod’s eyes connected again with Lyle’s. Lyle stood, gloved hand in his pocket, grinning. Jarod’s despair and panic grew.

“They said it couldn’t be done, Jarod.” Lyle shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making a quarter turn as if he was looking over his shoulder to an audience. “But, I guess all those brain cells don’t give you so much advantage after all, do they.” Lyle smiled. Jarod continued to struggle against the sweeper keeping him pinned inside the trunk of the car, his face flushing red in anger. Lyle brought his finger to his lips. “Now, now, Jarod. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

Lyle turned to the sweeper beside him. “Hold him still while I make sure our prize doesn’t fly the coup.” The two sweepers flanking Lyle moved in, controlling Jarod’s arms as the other sweeper moved to pin his legs. Lyle extracted a silver case from his jacket pocket. He flicked it open revealing a small syringe of clear liquid. Picking it up between thumb and index finger, he removed a plastic safety cap and pointed the needle toward Jarod.

“They tell me this works rather quickly. I understand it will leave you quite incapacitated.” Lyle looked giddy. Jarod tried to move away, to roll back and avoid the needle, but he was being held too tightly. The needle penetrated his arm and he felt the hot burning sensation spread through the muscle.

The sweepers hands released him, but Jarod had no time to escape. His last view of freedom was the gray Chicago sky being cut away by the closing of the trunk door. He heard the latch catch and was engulfed in darkness. His heart was still pounding…his breath still fast. Tears burned in his eyes. This was the day he’d waited for. He’d expected it for nearly 4 years. Bitterness crept into his mind. This can’t be happening. Not to me. Somewhere inside his mind, Jarod heard the cries of a child and the call of despair beckoning him to a familiar place inside his nightmares. “No…..” was all he managed before the strong sedative engulfed him.


Blue Cove, DE – Centre Receiving Warehouse 2

Jarod was aware of vibrations and movement around him, but as his mind floated in the darkness, he couldn’t quite remember where he was. Some part of his mind signaled danger, but he couldn’t isolate why or what the danger was. Instead he kept getting lost among dream images and sounds that were familiar yet distant.

The fog began to clear when Jarod’s eyes were flooded with light as the trunk of Lyle’s sedan came up. Jarod felt hangover and groggy, but he forced himself awake. He noticed tingling in his right arm and made a note that his arm must be asleep. He tried to sit up, brace himself for whatever he’d see, but his body was sluggish and unresponsive. Jarod blinked hard, trying to refocus and remember what was happening.

A shape in a dark suit appeared in front of the open trunk. Jarod shook his head, blinking, and trying to make is eyes focus. Another shape appeared and suddenly Jarod felt himself being dragged out of the trunk and along a bare concrete floor. He heard a strange sound and registered a moment later that it was the sound his own voice as he protested against being pulled along. He wasn’t yelling or crying out. It was the a sound of fragmented pleas.

Something about the bay Jarod found himself in, was familiar. All at once, it felt as if he’d been struck by a train going 70 miles an hour. He knew this place. The Centre. Jarod’s memory was foggy, but he was certain he knew exactly where he was. It was a Centre receiving warehouse just west of the main complex.

His adrenaline kicked in and Jarod managed to get to his feet, trying to catch his balance, though a sweeper still held him by each arm. They continued to force him forward. A man in a lab coat rolled a stretcher out of a waiting service elevator in front of them. Jarod realized the stretcher was for him. They’d expected him to still be too groggy to walk.

Jarod shifted his weight backward and brought is legs up, jumping at the stretcher and kicking out, causing the stretcher to plow into the wall. It plowed into the attendant and he dropped to the floor, doubled over. Jarod ripped his shoulder side to side, trying to shake off the sweepers who were pushing him toward the elevator faster now.

“Let’s go, Jarod.” The sweeper on Jarod’s right seemed to expect resistance and wasn’t phased by the pretender’s opposition. Jarod’s entire being focused on not getting into that elevator, not going there. Nothing else existed. He gritted his teeth and fought harder.

Behind Jarod, Lyle looked annoyed and slipped one hand under his suit coat, reaching for something. Suddenly, sharp pain filled Jarod’s head. The world faded to blackness as the butt of Lyle’s .9mm thudded against his skull. The pretender collapsed onto the floor of the warehouse. His limp body was dragged to the elevator and dropped in a heap. Jarod lay helpless, motionless on the floor.

“He always makes things so difficult.” Lyle said to no one as he stepped over Jarod’s body, moving to the rear of the elevator. He slipped his pistol back in the holster and pressed the button for the 9th floor. The elevator doors glided closed and it began its journey down into the substructure beneath the warehouse.

The receiving warehouse above was only the public face of the acquisitions department. The lower levels housed a small infirmary and several specialized labs. Sublevel 9 also had a corridor bridging the West complex with the Main Centre grounds a quarter of a mile away. Lyle often preferred to bring in the components of his special projects this way to avoid curious corporate eyes.

Lyle straightened his tie. Anything related to Jarod always seemed to involve getting ones hands dirty. He didn’t mind that, but he preferred a less public display. He glanced at the sweeper beside him who stared at his hand. Lyle let his hand drop to his side. Lyle was self conscious about his apprehension that something might still go wrong. He’d just done what no one else had managed. He’d brought home the prize. He had nothing to be worried about. Uneasiness settled in his stomach.

Lyle crossed his arms and smiled at himself, chasing away his inner demons. I always knew I was this good. He rocked back and forth on his heels with a slight smile, admiring the sight of the pretender sprawled semiconscious on the floor.

The elevator announced its arrival at the 9th floor with a subdued bell. Jarod glanced up from the floor, at first seeing only polished fuzzy black leather shoes and dark suits. Lyle squatted down, grabbing Jarod’s hair and forcing his head back bringing the two men nose to nose. Jarod struggled to get his eyes to focus on Lyle’s face.

“Jarod, welcome home.” Lyle’s eyes sparkled. He’d been waiting for nearly 4 years to say that. Jarod’s heart skipped a beat. He felt as if he couldn’t breath. His world was spinning, falling. There were too many emotions at once and his brain was too full of fog. Jarod couldn’t think, couldn’t accept what was happening, couldn’t respond. His face clouded with emotions, but he remained silent. He let his eyes drop to the floor.

Lyle stood, rubbing his hands together as if wiping something off of them. The elevator doors opened and Lyle stepped over Jarod into the corridor. He called out instructions leaving his back to the sweepers and Jarod. He had more important people to talk to.

“Sam, take him to Lab 3 and prep him.” Lyle said, pulling at his shirt cuff, straightening it. “I have good news to deliver.” Lyle grinned to himself, feeling triumphant. He strolled down the corridor and out of sight.

Jarod allowed himself to stay relaxed. He might be dragged back to a Sim lab, but he wasn’t going to help anyone take him there, much less walk there on his own two feet. Not helping them take him to the lab was one thing he could control. It was only a small inconvenience to the sweepers to drag him down the hall, but the single act of defiance was the only one he had left.

A sour taste gathered in Jarod’s mouth. It was adrenaline. Jarod has been taken to many different labs during his time at the Centre. He knew what to expect. A familiar knot in his stomach reminded him that the worst was yet to come. Jarod tried not to think about it and cleared his mind. He needed to marshal his strength. He’d need it soon enough.

Jarod closed his eyes. He’d seen corridors like this hundreds of times, gray industrial paint and tile, cold fluorescent light buzzing overhead. It felt in the same moment both sterile and cruel. If he’d been able to connect with his emotions, he’d have wept. Instead, his eyes were distant. He felt the numbness of suppressed rage and fear combined. The Centre owned him again. Being owned is a distinct feeling, one not easily forgotten.

Moments in Time
part 2
by TerriH



Sidney’s Office
Sidney sat behind his desk with a crease growing deeper between his eyes. He studied the DSA screen in front of him intently. His eyes, usually sad, today were angry and focused. Sidney pressed his lips together, as if consciously avoiding speaking his thoughts. He sat forward in his chair, as if he was prepared to leap inside the screen itself, concentrating on every detail of the silent images flickering in front of him. The DSA had no audio track, but the images spoke clearly enough.

“Hey, Sid…” Miss Parker announced casually as she burst through the office door without knocking, stopping mid-word when Sidney came into view.

“What is it…” Miss Parker’s tone revealed her concern for the older man. Then a sly smile crossed her face. “You’ve got a line on Jarod.” Her voice rose as her giddiness increased.

Miss Parker quickly crossed the room, slipping behind Sidney and draping herself across his shoulder as she looked past him to the screen on his desk. Sidney sat back in his chair, straightening his posture, as if silently protesting her intrusion.

“So where is the Boy Wonder?” Miss Parker spoke through her teeth, with a mock anger Sidney recognized as her defense against admitting any true feelings about her assignment to return Jarod to the Centre.

The image on the screen focused on Jarod being forced to his knees by sweepers in a nondescript Centre lab. Jarod wore street clothes and looked disheveled. He was speaking to someone just out of view. Jarod’s face was contorted in anger. He was shouting at the figure off screen in front of him . His face was strained, red, and the muscles of his neck bulged. Both Parker and Sidney knew Jarod well enough to also see the fear, nearly panic, buried behind the angry show.

Suddenly, responding to something being said, presumably by the man off camera, Jarod’s expression changed and he began struggling as if he was trying to flee. His expression became desperate with soundless words tumbling out of his mouth. He appeared to be pleading with someone, shouting for help, shouting at the sweepers to release him. They didn’t.

Another sweeper walked into view moving Jarod with scissors in hand and began cutting away Jarod’s clothes, stripping him bare as the remaining sweepers held him down. Following the removal of his clothes, Jarod was again forced to his knees. He no longer looked defiant. Now, the prodigy, the genius of the Centre, looked small and defeated. The humiliation he felt, the helplessness, was obvious in his face. He no longer struggled.

Jarod’s face revealed the waves of emotion washing through him, despair, anger, grief, hopelessness. Parker and Sidney could see him attempting to retain a sense of calm. His eyes stayed focused on the floor in front of him as if he was refusing to meet the eyes of his tormentor somewhere out of view on the DSA. Sidney recognized Jarod focusing his attention on an imaginary object using a technique Sidney had taught him to use when he felt overwhelmed.

The sweepers holding Jarod nodded as if they’d received and instruction from someone out of sight of the camera. Then, they dragged Jarod toward the rear of the room, dropping him near the back wall and stepping out of frame.

“Sid?” Miss Parker said breathlessly. She put her hand on Sidney’s shoulder as she stood. “What is this?” She stood back as if trying to distance herself from the image she was watching, her face showing disgust and shock. She checked the inscription log notation on the lower left portion of the screen.

“This is a security tape from yesterday, Sidney.” Miss Parker’s voice revealed confusion and anger blended in the same moment. She pivoted on one heel, looking Sidney in the eye.

“Where’d you get it, Sid?” Her tone was threatening. She knew the answer to the question, but remained incredulous. The Centre was a place where you didn’t just find secure surveillance footage. Any record of Jarod would be highly guarded. Sidney had known where to look.

Sidney leaned back in his chair, not speaking, bringing his fingertips together in his lap. He smiled slightly in a way that always seemed condescending to Miss Parker and flattened his hands on his thighs. He seemed to consider his answer. Miss Parker shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip, taking a posture of authority. Her eye became sharp and her expression darkened in an unspoken threat. She leaned in toward Sidney extending her arm and supporting her weight on the desk in front of him. She raised an eyebrow demanding he answer her question.

Sidney seemed to think better of remaining silent and began quietly, “I asked Broots to keep an eye on Lyle’s whereabouts. It appears your brother has been keeping secrets.” Sidney pressed his lips together and paused, knowing Miss Parker would react to those words.

Sidney enjoying seeing her struggle to control her own emotions. Understanding others emotions (and their struggles with them) was, after all, his profession. Sidney also understood that the Centre would not wait for Parker to bring Jarod back if they thought Lyle could do it faster. It had been a pragmatic decision on his part to monitor Lyle’s progress. Jarod was a valuable asset. Sidney wasn’t surprised that Lyle had chosen to exclude Parker and himself on the retrieval attempt. He’d want the glory for himself. He’d want control.

“Lyle.” Miss Parker practically growled the word. She sidestepped Sidney’s chair and marched for the door as she shouted instructions and waved her arms. “Sidney, I want to know where Jarod is… YESTERDAY!” Air whooshed in the doorway behind her as the door swung closed.

Sidney leaned back in his chair and grinning at himself. Despite the direness of the situation, watching Miss Parker react to the Centre and its politics was often quite amusing to him, though he knew it shouldn’t be. He chastised himself lightly.

Sidney brought his hands together, then steepled his finger tips and brought them to his lips. He refocused on the DSA playing in front of him. Sidney hoped he’d be able to determine where Lyle was holding Jarod before any permanent damage had been done.

Sidney began extrapolating Jarod’s likely response to the treatment he was receiving. Assessing Jarod’s response to stimulus was Sidney’s expertise. His twenty odd years of experience with Jarod told him that Jarod was emotionally spent and angry. Lyle was playing a dangerous game.

Sidney believed Jarod to be far more fragile than Lyle or anyone else assumed. Strength is often relative to many emotional elements. Sidney doubted Lyle knew or cared about Jarod’s emotional state. Sidney wanted to go to Jarod, to see for himself how his young prodigy was holding up. Sidney cared deeply for the pretender, he’d been his caretaker for most of this life at the Centre, but Jarod was also Sidney’s life work. The conflict between his compassion and his curiosity had never been resolved.

Sidney shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As if on cue, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Mr. Broots’s stuck his head inside the door, waiting for a nod from Sidney before entering. Sidney turned to face him making eye contact that implied an invitation. Broots strode quickly into the room and slipped onto a chair in front of Sidney’s desk. He seemed excited and nervous.

“Sidney, I think I found something.” Broots glanced over his shoulder self consciously. He paused, eyeing the DSA reader on Sidney’s desk as if it was dangerous. His demeanor shifted. He shivered and a crease formed in his brow. He looked up at the older man, as if pleading for him to make sense of something. Then his eyes shifted back to the DSA case. Broots seemed to look through it, his thoughts moving to the images he’d seen on the DSA before he’d given it to Sidney.

“I didn’t watch the whole thing, but…” He paused, as if not wanting to voice the question in his mind. “Why would anyone do something like that?” His incredulity was born in fear that one day someone might decide to do the same to him. Broots’s shivered again unconsciously.

The DSA image in front of Sidney revealed Jarod being sprayed with a high-powered hose, being given a “shower” against his will. The force of the water threw the pretender across a wall, leaving red welts on his back and arms. The water was turned off, and a soaking wet Jarod was again dragged to the center of the room where someone out of view spoke to him, probably Lyle.

Sidney concentrated for a moment on Jarod’s eyes before he answered Broots’s question. Sidney started slowly, methodically, trying to explain what he intuitively understood. “Even the ‘dust’ of the outside world had been taken from Jarod.”

Sidney paused, realizing he wasn’t explaining in a way Broots would understand. On the screen, Jarod stared up at his tormentor through wet locks of hair. His face was now blank as he succeeded at catching his mental balance by focusing on his anger instead of the Centre walls closing in around him. His face took on a hard quality, as if the fear had simply slipped away. Jarod understood what Lyle was doing to him. Sidney did too.

“Lyle is telling Jarod that he will never see the outside world again. He wants to remove from him any connection he has to it.” Sidney recognized the dynamic. He simply wished Lyle was less ….less barbaric. Jarod didn’t need to be handled with an iron fist. Simply being inside the Centre walls would be more than enough to leave him psychologically off balanced.

Sidney shook his head. It was all so pointless, letting a man like Lyle get near Jarod was a counter productive move by the Tower. Then again, he corrected, Lyle had managed to bring him in. That was more than he and Parker had managed. Wanting to dismiss that thought, he dropped his hands to his lap and turned his attention to Broots.

“What have you found?” Sidney’s voice sounded deflated, tired. His enthusiasm at discovering Jarod was so close was tempered by the reality that even if Jarod was being held inside the Centre, the likelihood of getting to him remained remote. Many inside the Centre still blamed Sidney for Jarod’s escape despite the fact Sidney had been as surprised as everyone else involved in the Pretender project the day their pretender ran away. Sidney patiently waited for Broots to reveal his news.

“Well, Sidney, I talked to Manny down in communications.” Broots paused, slightly chuckling to himself, looking very pleased with his cleverness. “It seems he has a thing for Belgian chocolate and Miss Parker, so I arranged for him to find a nice box of truffles with a note from her.” Broots grinned, looking a bit like the cat that ate the canary as he began rattling on, gesturing and repeating bits of his conversation with Manny.

“Broots.” Sidney redirected the younger man and tapped his finger on the desk. “What did you find.” His tone was insistent without being short.

“Oh, yeah, Sidney. Sorry.” Broots took a deep breath. He looked suddenly tense and glanced over his shoulder again before leaning forward in a half whisper. “He’s right here at the Centre. Lyle’s got him hidden over in SubLevel 14 in a holding area classified as Biohazard.” Broots paused. “And one more thing. The DSA you’re looking at is not logged on any official Centre security log.” Broots nearly whispered the last sentence, looking frightened. He knew the Centre well enough to know when he’d found something he might later wish he hadn’t.

Broots straightened up, his pride at his own resourcefulness temporarily outpacing his better judgement. “I managed to scrub it off of a private download through the Centre mainframe to Lyle’s laptop.” A chill settled along in Broots’s spine.

“It looks like he downloaded it for pleasure viewing.” Broots’s expression resembled one of a man who’s just tasted something repugnant. He paused again. “Imagine that.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking at no one. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Broots couldn’t help but think about the visceral response his stomach had whenever he thought of being in the same room with Lyle.

Sidney nodded, as if reading Broots’s thoughts. Sidney had seen men like Lyle do many things at the Centre. He knew how to stay out of harms way, and how to use his own position to both protect his own interests and get his way. Men like Lyle were usually bullies with more brawn than brain. Sidney steepled his hands below his chin again. His eyes focused unseeing at the desk.

“Sidney?” Broots looked worried. Caught momentarily in his own thoughts, Sidney hadn’t realized Broots had stopped speaking, and was slightly startled.

“Yes, thank you Broots.” Sidney said quickly, looking up. His attention still split between Broots and his own thoughts. Sensing a question from Broots, Sidney mentally shook himself, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Um… Sidney? Are you going to go there?” The there he referred to was Jarod’s location and both men knew it, but it seemed like bad luck to say it outloud. Broots now sat on the edge of his seat, looking as if he was trying to penetrate Sidney’s thoughts. Sidney sat silent, considering his options. He needed to see Jarod, but knew Lyle would never permit it. The silence implied what Broots had feared. Sidney was not going to make this easy.

“Um… okay.” Broots looked down at his hands, thinking for a moment. Then looking back at Sidney he added. “Should we tell Miss Parker?” She was, after all, his boss, not to mention one of few people who seemed quite willing to squash him like a bug if he didn’t do what she wanted. It seemed unwise to keep secrets from her. Though not the coward she thought he was, Broots was in no hurry to make an enemy of Miss Parker or her powerful father.

“Let’s wait until we know what Lyle has planned.” Sidney knew Miss Parker would be angry if she learned he’d withheld information. But, with Jarod back inside the Centre, Miss Parker was no longer the most significant consideration in the politics of the situation. Sidney justified, “Lyle is her concern for now. Let’s let her work on that.”

Sidney chose to avoid considering the ramifications of offending the chairman’s daughter. She only mattered as long as the hunt for Jarod continued. With him found, Sidney was in a strong position to reclaim his status as necessary, something he rarely took for granted at the Centre.

“Okay.” Broots shrugged and slipped quietly out of Sidney’s office. When it came to Jarod, it always seemed he was a page behind. He could find the information they asked for, but watching the power shift inside the Centre often left him wondering if there was a right side to be on. If there was, Broots knew he rarely seemed to be on it.

Sidney turned back to the DSA and pressed the play button again. This time, he’d watch Jarod’s expression more closely. Sidney’s sadness at Jarod’s situation was quickly clouded by more pressing concerns. Sidney needed to determine how likely Jarod would be to trust him. Jarod would have to trust him if Sidney hoped to work with him again. And, if Jarod wouldn’t do that, Sidney would quickly become obsolete, a very dangerous condition in a place like the Centre.



Sublevel 14, Biohazard Lab 4

The lab’s gray concrete walls and tiled floor had the cold feel that Jarod was accustomed to. All of the places he’d variously lived at the Center had the same general atmosphere. No matter the temperature of the room, they always felt cold, vacuous, devoid of hope. The pretender forced his thoughts to other things. Hope is important, I must not let go of it. Jarod remembered simulations he’d done as a child with Sidney. He’d learned that hope can help one survive even the most intolerable conditions. He’d told Sidney then he’d not give up wanting a family and a life outside the Centre. Nothing had changed in the twenty years since.

Jarod had been left standing, feet shackled to a concrete post near the center of the lab. A hole drilled in the post somewhere above and behind him served as an anchor for the chain
holding his wrists behind and high above his head. His shoulders had begun to ache a few hours ago as a result of being constantly flexed upward and backward. The soles of his feet burned from the constant pressure of standing in one place. A tingling sensation was climbing up his leg as fatigue set in and his joints began to complain about the lack of movement.

Jarod took in a deep breath and listened to the air move in and out of his lungs, concentrating. He knew he needed to keep his focus off of the dull pain growing in his body. Pain has a way of zapping your strength and he knew he’d need his energy to fight the mental challenge that most certainly was coming. He tried again to relax his shoulders again, without success. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. I’d imagine Lyle planned it this way. He thought, cynically.

Jarod’s head was beginning to clear as the drugs he’d been given outside the bank finally wore off. He understood Lyle’s tactics and he knew they were designed to wear him down both emotionally and physically. It was a simple matter of endurance. He’d completed dozens of simulations related to POW’s and interrogations. He knew the kind of mental toughness required to resist, and he knew he had it.

One thing a pretender learns fast at the Centre is how to muster the strength to remain focused in difficult circumstances. Completing a simulation is impossible without the ability to focus passed the distractions of pain and fear. For once, Jarod was grateful for his gift. He knew it was the tool he’d need it to get through this. With bitterness he noted that the same gift was what caused him to find himself in these circumstances in the first place. The irony was not lost on him.

Jarod closed his eyes and let his head drop forward onto his chest. The boredom was perhaps the most difficult thing about being isolated in the lab. He tried to let his mind wander, but all the images were of the sky and flowers and images of the outside world. Somehow the images seemed painful. He wanted to believe he’d be back among those things soon, but he’d lived too long in the Centre to plan on it. Jarod raised his head, consciously shaking loose that thought. He couldn’t permit himself to let them win. He was a pretender. He’d find a way out, again. It was just a matter of time.

Opening his eyes, Jarod looked down at the black pajama type pants he was wearing. Lyle had kindly given them to him after his “shower”. They were the same style he’d worn every day before he left the Centre. Though he preferred being dressed to being naked, wearing these pants made it seem like he belonged at the Centre somehow, and that turned his stomach.

Jarod heard footsteps approaching down the hall. Lyle had been his only visitor so far and he was likely returning. Jarod refused to give Lyle the pleasure of seeing his fatigue, so he consciously controlled his expression and focused his eyes on an imaginary point about three feet in front of him. Jarod doubted anyone else knew he was here, except possibly Raines.

A few hours ago, he’d heard the unmistakable sound of Raines’s oxygen tank being wheeled into an observation area above the lab. He’d not been able to turn his head far enough to see who was there, but he felt eyes inspect him from above. Jarod’s face had flushed red with anger at the idea he’d become some animal in a zoo for Raines to watch. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the feeling more than the current incarnation that infuriated him. Being regarded as somehow less than human, a tool to be used, was something he’d once been accustomed to, but never accepted. Now, standing chained to a post, it was an indignity difficult to tolerate.

The relentless droning of ventilation fans was interrupted by a sharp hiss as the air seal of the biohazard lab was released. Lyle’s hard soled shoes made a clicking noise as he stepped inside the lab. Jarod involuntarily flinched at sound of the lock being reset on the door. A sense of confinement and suffocation always accompanied the sound. He recognized it as purely psychological reaction, but, for a moment, it seemed as if there was no air in the room. He felt pressure in his lungs and forced himself to breathe evenly. He knew it was a panic response to the idea he was locked inside the lab and refused to reveal his discomfort to Lyle.

“Well, well, Jarod.” Lyle grinned and spoke easily, as if he was greeting an old friend. He walked casually toward the pretender with his gloved hand in the trouser pocket of his Italian suit as had become his habit after having his thumb removed by the Yakuza.

“It looks like you’ve adjusted nicely to your new surroundings.” Lyle approached Jarod and stood in front of him, admiring the beauty of seeing the other man bound and helpless.

Lyle stepped closer, leaning in so his face was near Jarod’s. His voice became quiet, taking on a more intimate tone. “There’s no place like home, is there, Jarod.” Lyle’s words were emotionless, except for a hint of satire.

Jarod rolled his eyes up, meeting Lyle’s. “I wouldn’t know.” Jarod returned Lyle’s satire.

The intensity of Jarod’s gaze caused Lyle to step back. Though they were about the same height, Jarod seemed to possess the ability to leave Lyle feeling intimidated. That rarely happened to Lyle. Each time it did, Lyle was startled by it. He hadn’t expected Jarod to be this composed. I should have. He thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Lyle grinned and turned on one foot gesturing around the room as if speaking to an audience. “Don’t you recognize your home, Jarod.” Lyle said, his voice becoming cold. Lyle turned back to face the pretender. Speaking quietly, almost under his breath, Lyle added, “Always defiant, Jarod. It’s good to know there are things in life I can count on.”

Lyle slipped his gloved hand back in his pocket and seemed to consider his next statement before speaking. He simply stared at Jarod, assessing his mood.

After several minutes, Jarod’s neck grew tired from the odd angle he was forced to hold his head in order to keep eye contact with Lyle. Jarod allowed his head to drop, resting his chin on his chest, knowing that doing so would signal his loosing this round with Lyle. He consoled himself by rationalizing it didn’t matter. But, it did matter to him that Lyle had seem him tired, and seen him surrender first. Jarod felt ashamed and wondered if Sidney would be disappointed. He missed Sidney and wished he were here. As much as it embittered him, Jarod knew he desperately needed Sidney’s encouragement.

Lyle stood for a few more minutes watching Jarod. Jarod felt embarrassed, but could think of nothing to say. Lyle finally looked at his watch and simply said, “I’ll be back.” And walked casually to the door, as if nothing had happened. Jarod knew better. He didn’t yet know what Lyle had planned, but he knew he’d walked into Lyle’s trap at the bank, and he had the distinct feeling he’d just done so again.

Jarod chastised himself and began spiraling into self pity. It was difficult not to let his emotions take over. It felt so overwhelming to be back in the Centre after better than 4 years of freedom. All at once, it felt as if he’d never been gone. The oppressiveness seemed to soak into his skin. His eyes filled with tears, though he wouldn’t permit himself to release them. The ever present eye of the surveillance camera was watching. Jarod took a deep breath, cleansing his lungs, and redirecting his thoughts. It’s only a matter of time. I will get out. I will.



Miss Parker’s Office

Miss Parker sat leaning back in her high backed leather chair. Her feet were propped on the corner of her desk. Various files lay strewn across the top of the desk, apparently ignored. Miss Parker’s face looked distracted, dark. She was thinking about how much she both hated the Centre and how much she felt she’d always be connected to it.

Parker’s eyes traveled across her desk to the picture of her mother, Catherine, in a small gold colored frame. She’d been a casualty of the same people who now held Jarod. Miss Parker couldn’t let herself fully connect with the emotion behind that thought, there were too many emotional land mines attached. Instead, she felt frozen inside, empty.

Parker’s eyes moved past the picture, to the clean black lines accenting the wall opposite her desk. Often it seemed everything in the Centre was black or some shade of gray, from the politics to the paint. It was almost as if the walls themselves were constantly dressed for a funeral. Miss Parker smiled to herself, finding humor in the observation. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander.

Broots’s knock on her door was more annoying than truly bothersome, but it still pulled Miss Parker away from the relaxed state she’d been in. “What!” she sniped as Broots entered the room, adjusting her posture to accommodate her usual stiff demeanor, but leaving her feet propped on the desk. She rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, clasping her hands at the level of her waist.

“Hello, Miss Parker. Sorry to interrupt.” Broots managed to say. Broots disliked how nervous he felt around the Chairman’s daughter. She had a way of leaving him feeling like he had always done something wrong and been caught red handed.

Miss Parker smiled, relaxing and settling back into her chair. She swiveled the chair a quarter turn with an amused expression on her face. “It’s okay, Broots. What is it?”

“The gate called. Your car is waiting.” Broots delivered the message in a neutral voice, but his face revealed concern.

Miss Parker drooped her feet from the desk where they were propped, and sat upright in her chair, reaching for a thin brown file folder with the Centre logo on the front. “Thank you, Broots.” Miss Parker’s tone was polite, but cold. The Centre isn’t a place for emotional connections, she reminded herself, always certain to remain in control of herself. She’d miss Broots’s competent hands when she moved back to her Corporate position in the Tower. She refused to admit she had any personal feelings for the man.

“M-miss Parker?” Broots was still standing in front of her desk, not taking Parker’s cue to leave.

“What is it, Broots?” Miss Parker sounded irritated now. She stopped collecting her things and looked up at him. Her blue eyes drilled into him.

“Well, I was wondering, see… I was wondering where you’re going.” He seemed to pause, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. He knew he didn’t have the right to demand information from her. “Are you leaving the Centre?” Broots’s looked dejected, troubled.

Miss Parker let herself grin, an easy smile Broots almost never saw. In truth, it almost frightened him simply because it was so foreign. “Why, Broots. You seem disappointed.” She
chuckled to herself, pivoting to the side and standing gracefully in one fluid motion. Broots shrugged, as if apologizing for asking his question.

“I… I just wondered if we’d be working together anymore. You know, now that Jarod’s been found, and all.” Broots’s voice was less steady than he would have liked. Despite Miss Parker’s occasionally caustic personality, Broots liked working with her. She pushed harder than anyone he knew, and he liked that. He liked the challenge. He found it exciting.

Miss Parker strolled across the office, picking up a black leather attaché. She felt Broots’s eyes travel down her legs as she reached for the case. Miss Parker liked being watched, but only if she knew she had the upper hand. She stood slowly, almost feeling the heat in Broots face before she turned and saw his red cheeks. “Like what you see, Broots?” She smiled at herself, looking a bit like a sly fox about to trap something for dinner. Broots tried to shrug nonchalantly. Parker let it go. She had more important things on her mind.

Parker stood, looking past him for a moment, her expression turning bitter. “I’ve been transferred back to Corporate, Broots.” There was a time she’d have liked nothing better. At this point, however, it seemed clear the transfer was an equivalent of being sent to Siberia. She’d not be trusted with another important project. In the eyes of the Tower, she’d failed to bring Jarod back. They’d not forget that easily.

She paused, taking a breath and leveling her eyes at Broots. “It seems our time together is done.” She stepped forward taking his chin in her hands and moving her face near his, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. “Buck up, little trooper, it’ll be alright.” Then she threw her head back in a defiant smile. And slapped him lightly on the cheek. Corporate hasn’t conquered me yet, she thought, as she stepped past him. Broots reached up to touch the spot Miss Parker had touched, his jaw hanging open, not knowing what to say.

Parker slipped the cashmere coat from the back of her chair over one arm and began walking for the door. Speaking with her back to Broots, she added, “Tell Sid I’ll wrap up the last of the case files from Corporate.”

Parker paused at the door, looking back past Broots to her desk. For a moment, there seemed to be regret in her eyes. Then, she turned back to the door and slipped away into the hall, her heels clicking as she strolled toward the elevator.

Broots was left standing alone in Parker’s office, unsure of what to do. Working with Miss Parker had been his sole task for the last four years. He wasn’t sure what her departure would mean for his own future at the Centre. A cold chill ran through him. He was reasonably certain he’d proven his usefulness. Surely, the Tower knew that. He’d likely be reassigned as well. He just didn’t like the feeling of not knowing what would happen to him.

For a split second, Broots felt a parallel between himself and Jarod. Both of their futures were being written by powerful the nameless faces that ran the Centre. Broots hoped his future was one less frightening than Jarod’s seemed to be. The image of Jarod he’d seen a few hours ago on the DSA, hung in his mind.

Realizing he was still standing in the middle of Parker’s office, Broots glanced nervously over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. It’s going to be very strange to be here without Miss Parker around, he thought to himself as he touched the doorknob. Very strange. Broots stepped through the door, flicking the light switch as he passed through. As the room drooped into shadow, he had a sense a chapter of his life was ending, one he wasn’t yet ready to give up.

Moments in Time
part 3
by TerriH




Miss Parker's Office - Centre Corporate Tower

Miss Parker walked in to her new office and surveyed the surroundings. her desk was situated near a window overlooking the Centre's botanical Garden. Her new office was small, but well furnished. Her files had been boxed up overnight and brought up from her prior office on the Operations sublevel. The boxes currently lay in a stack near a cherry credenza on her right. A neglected office plant sat on top; it's leaves slowly shifting from green to yellow. Parker smirked she looked at it. There seemed to be a metaphor to her career in the withered leaves. She turned away, walking to her desk and put down her attaché. She sat on the corner of her new desk, surveying the room.

Parker had arrived at 9:00 and met her new assistant, Amber, whom she'd immediately asked to find her a cup of coffee. Parker rolled her eyes. Amber was the epitome of everything she didn't want to be. She was mousy and subservient and much too perky for nine in the morning. She also appeared efficient, Parker noted as she saw her assistant returning down the corridor.

"Thank god for small favors." Parker uttered under her breath as Amber returned with a fresh cup of coffee. Amber handed Parker the coffee in a white French china cup. Parker lifted an eyebrow and nodded her thanks. "God, I need this today." She sighed.

Amber chirped up. "Well, you have a busy first day, Miss Parker." She said and smiled in a manor Parker assumed was intended to be friendly. Continuing, Amber added, "You have a 10:00 with Chambers over in Contracts and Litigation and an 11:00 with Business Services." Parker nearly choked on her coffee. Amber didn't seem to notice. Looking up to the ceiling as if reading notes she'd left there, she continued. "And then... you have a luncheon with the Executive Services Liaison."

Having finished her report, Amber looked back at Miss Parker. Amber felt pleased with herself. She thought she'd done a good job showing her new boss what an efficient secretary she was. She smiled and waited for instructions.

"Some first day." Parker sighed. It seemed best to establish boundaries now. This was ~not~ going to work. Parker stood from the desk, stepping in toward her diminutive assistant. Parker was only an inch taller, but the patent leather stilettos she'd worn allowed her to tower over the young blond. Parker stepped closer to her assistant, locking eyes in a way that prevented the young woman from stepping back despite her obvious discomfort.

"Let's get this straight right now, Amber." Parker said, her tone ensured her presence, as the dominant one of the pair was clear. "From now on, I schedule my own appointments. Understood?" Amber nodded quickly and stepped back. Her face flushed red. Miss Parker wasn't like any executive she'd ever worked for before. She looked down and pulled at the edge of her sweater self-consciously.

"Now, run along." Miss Parker said, motioning for Amber to leave. Amber turned and walked quickly to the door. Parker stepped back, leaning on the desk again. She savored the fact she still had some power to intimidate, even if it was only over her assistant.

Then, Parker called out to her new secretary. "Get me the files I'll need for my 10:00. Now." She said. Her voice was terse considering it was only a quarter after nine in the morning. Amber nodded but didn't turn to face her boss as she quickly closed the door to Parker's office behind her. She felt quite flustered and was relieved to have a few minutes to compose herself before returning to Parker's office.

Parker thought it looked as though the young woman was practically retreating, rather than simply returned to her desk. "I think I scared her." Parker thought to herself and smiled as she returned to her coffee. Her face looked tired and her body felt weary. Parker sighed again looking glum. It ~was~ going to be a long day.

After a few more minutes of absorbing caffeine, Miss Parker felt ready to work. She stood and circled her desk, sitting in the high backed leather chair she'd had sent up from her old office. Her thoughts involuntarily turned to Jarod. She felt removed from the incarnation of her life that had her chasing him daily, but old habits die hard. She wondered where he was, and how he'd been caught.

Within hours of discovering the DSA of Jarod's return to the Centre, she'd been handed an interoffice memo stating she was being reassigned effective immediately. She'd gone to her father and demanded he reverse the directive, but he claimed it was out of his hands. She doubted that, but it was obvious he wanted her gone.

Parker's blood pressure raised a bit as she thought about it. If it hadn't been her father, she'd not have accepted his answer. She was not typically willing to be ordered off an assignment without explanation. She was a Parker. She deserved respect. But, with her father, everything was different. She felt small and insecure for a moment as her mind turned to her powerful man who was so often the source of conflicted emotions for her. She massaged her temples. It seemed impossible for all that to have happened just yesterday. Today now seemed like an entirely different world.

Miss Parker drummed her fingers on her desk, nursing the last of the warm coffee from her cup as she waited for Amber to bring her the files she needed. Miss Parker reviewed yesterday's events in her mind. She'd spoken to Sidney last night, having surmised he'd go see Jarod in the morning. With a little persuasion, Sidney had confirmed his plans to do just that. Sidney had apparently negotiated with Lyle to get time with Jarod before he'd left for the day last night.

Miss Parker made a face. The thought of negotiating anything with Lyle turned her stomach. Parker set her cup down and reflexively touched her abdomen feeling the soft cashmere of her skirted suit. Her ulcer was responding to medication, but coffee often reminded her it was there. Thinking about Lyle had the same effect.

Parker wondered how Sidney's appointment with Jarod would go. She felt a touch of envy that Sidney would be seeing him. As annoying as Jarod could be, he'd also been a sort of invisible companion these last four years. She felt connected to him in a way she couldn't explain and refused to admit to anyone including herself. She deafly avoided fleeting thoughts of Jarod that were more personal. She didn't have time for "softer" emotions toward anyone, not even Jarod.

On a professional level, as frustrating as he could be, Jarod was also a challenge she enjoyed. He'd been difficult to catch and clever in evading her. Parker rarely found an opponent she admired as much as Jarod. She felt fondness for him despite his annoying habit of sending her chasing her tail. She considered with some distress that her feeling toward Jarod should more correctly be ire, but it wasn't. She chose not to follow that train of thought. Instead, she let her mind wander.

Jarod came to mind again. Parker considered him for a moment, looking unseeing across her office. He had time and time again toyed with her emotions as he manipulated her into finding the answers about her mother that he wanted her to find. "But," she thought, "At least he doesn't lie to me." She tilted her head to one side, picturing her father's face in her mind's eye.

The last four years had made her considerably more cynical about the Centre and it's chairman, her father. Miss Parker knew how to choose her battles, however, and the transfer to corporate wasn't one she could win. She'd recognized that early on and accepted her fate. "Know thy enemy." She mumbled into her coffee.

The intercom buzzed on the phone. Miss Parker reached for it and clicked the button activating the speaker. "What!" she called annoyed into the black box.

"I have those files ready for you." Amber chimed back, sounding a bit repentant for interrupting her. "Should I bring them in now?" she asked. Amber's voice was a bit too tentative for Miss Parker's tastes. Something in the tone gave her the urge to strike at the woman. Parker resisted the impulse.

"Yes. I told you I wanted them immediately, so now would be good." Parker said in a sarcastic voice. She clicked the intercom off and took a deep breath. She'd once enjoyed the prestige of Corporate but she'd been out of the game for 4 years. She had a lot of catching up to do. If it was possible for Miss Parker to feel intimidated, she did now. The mental whiplash of the last 24 hours was catching up to her.

Amber slipped into Parker's office, placing the files in front of her in the center of her desk. Then, she turned and quickly scurried out. Parker's eyes twinkled as she watched her assistant scamper out the door. She chuckled to herself. "That's right. You know who's boss now, don't you." She said in a sly voice, smiling with one side of her mouth a bit more than the other. Her eyes looked devious. She was enjoying the moment. Miss Parker wasn't a cruel woman, but she understood the Centre. She understood that strength, the appearance of it at least, was crucial to her survival there.

Then Parker's expression softened. She fingered the rough brown paper of the first file for a moment before flipping it open. She wasn't really interested in Contracts and Litigation, so she allowed herself a moment of melancholy before she dove into the meat of Contract File 64R/128-69A. She missed Jarod. Taking a deep breath, she flipped open the file. She'd delayed long enough.

Parker knew she needed to change gears if she wanted to succeed at Corporate. She was determined to arrive at her 10:00 meeting prepared to do business. She was hungry to be a player, a winner again. Growing up, Miss Parker had excelled at sports. As she saw it, business was simply sports on paper.

Parker began reading quickly. The file was a prepared brief that outlined current Centre contract negotiations with an Israeli technology development firm. She sighed, and leaned forward on one elbow, scanning the pages as quickly as possible. "It ~is~ going to be a long day." She thought again.


The Centre - Sublevel 14, Biohazard Lab 4

Jarod had recovered his emotional balance and his sense of humor had returned. "It's amazing what you can get used to." he thought to himself. He smiled, and felt his mind relax despite the cramping in his muscles from the constant tension of his restraints. "It's not so bad, once you get over the aching joints and cold and hunger....and.."' the thought trailed off. Then he chuckled to himself. "Who am I trying to convince?" Jarod thought, shaking his head amused. A certain dark sense of humor was required to survive with one's sanity intact inside the Centre. Jarod most certainly possessed it.

Jarod stood against a concrete post near the center of the lab with his arms pulled up and back behind him with his wrists secured to a chain above. His feet were shackled, severely limiting his ability to move. He faced away from the door and could see little of the lab. His view consisted primarily of a small table bolted to the floor a few feet in front of him and the gray concrete and steel reinforced walls that surrounded him. This room was all he'd seen since the sweepers had brought him there the day before.

Jarod wore only black cotton pants reminiscent of pajama bottoms. They'd been part of his 'uniform' during his original internment at the Center as a child; a time he'd hoped he'd one day forget. Lyle had supplied them, he assumed, as a way to remind Jarod of "the good old days".

Jarod shifted. The post had rough spots that occasionally caught on skin of his back. As he felt one, he was reminded that Lyle had neglected to give him a shirt the day before when he'd ordered the sweepers to restrain him there. The texture of the concrete post behind him had become familiar to his back in the 24 hours since then.

Jarod reasoned that Lyle hadn't given him a shirt because he intended for Jarod to feel "exposed" and therefore more vulnerable. "Lyle likes a metaphor." he thought to himself, half smiling. Even in these circumstance, he found Lyle more often amusing than frightening. He could be a dangerous man, but, as Jarod saw it, he was not difficult to understand.

Jarod looked around the room again. The walls showed seams periodically, but aside from that, they were smooth monoliths whose appearance only enhanced the cold silence in the room. Looking up, Jarod could see a tangle of ductwork and electrical conduit running through a high ceiling. Just below the shiny metal ducting was a surveillance camera. It was aimed directly at him. Jarod suspected there were several others in the room as well. Lyle had prepared this lab especially for him, or so he'd claimed when he had the sweepers drag Jarod in there the day before. Lyle'd called this lab his special "containment unit". Jarod surmised that meant he'd added extra security.... and that no one else knew he was there.

Lost in his own thoughts, Jarod jumped, startled when the hiss of the airlock announced someone entering the room. He'd not heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor. Consequently, he couldn't deduce who his most recent visitor was likely to be. His heart accelerated and his mouth went dry in response to this latest surprise. An adrenaline release was automatic whenever something unexpected happened at the Centre. It had been that way since he was brought here as a young child. He'd always known that surprises rarely portended good news in a place like this. The vulnerability he felt as a result of being restrained increased the effect.

Jarod's head automatically turned to see who was there. "It shouldn't be Lyle. He was just here." Jarod reasoned to himself. Jarod's stomach clenched and his mouth tasted acid. "Perhaps Lyle has contrived some new way of ~welcoming~ me home." Jarod thought as he inwardly winced. The corners of his mouth turned down as he clenched his teeth, fighting back both anger and fear. Bitterness crept back into the pretender's mind. He truly hated this place and what they'd done to him.

Jarod couldn't see the doorway from his current position due to the direction he was facing and the width of the concrete post. He'd have to wait for whoever was entering the lab to step into view. Having to wait increased his anxiety. The tension in Jarod's stomach took on a hollow character with a cold stone at the core. A nearly imperceptible shiver ran up his spine, raising the hair on his arms. For a moment he was trapped in twilight between his own memories and the florescent lights of the lab. The moment of anticipating something terrible about to happen to him was familiar from a thousand simulations.

Jarod closed his eyes. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself. "There is no reason to believe..." Jarod begun saying to himself. Then his eyes popped back open. There ~was~ reason to believe something worth his adrenal response was about to happen. Assuming otherwise was foolish. He'd lived at the Centre long enough to know ~that~ with absolute certainty.

Jarod looked at the ground, consciously assuming control of his countenance. His face took on a neutral expression, cold eyes masking his internal world. He raised his eyes to meet his unknown guest. He faced forward, locking his gaze on the wall across from him waiting for his visitor to proceed far enough into the lab that he could see him. Jarod appeared to be the epitome of control.

Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity to the pretender. Whoever was inside the lab, was approaching him quietly. The footfalls were soft, but heavy. Forgetting his composure for a moment, Jarod turned his head, trying to see who was there. He pressed his cheek hard into the concrete post behind him trying to see past the gray concrete that blocked his view. His mask of composure had slipped. Jarod fought to push down the panic that threatened to erupt. He tried to edge over in the direction of his visitor, but the sensation of his shoulder being pulled apart as he stretched the limits of the restraint stopped him from doing more than shifting over a fraction of an inch.

Jarod heard the voice before he could see anyone.

"Jarod?" Sidney's concern was obvious from the single word. Sidney was shocked to see his pretender standing, bound hand and foot to a concrete support post in the center of the lab. The DSA he'd seen the day before hadn't included that image.

Jarod recognized Sidney's slight Belgian accent immediately. Tears welled up in his eyes as the false bravado dropped away and his fear evaporated. The man who'd raised him had come to his side. Jarod's mind was electric with conflicting thoughts and feelings. Sidney was the only person Jarod had ever felt loved him. Sidney had never said those words, but Jarod chose to believe the feelings were there. He needed them to be there.

Sidney was only parent Jarod could remember. He yearned for Sidney's comfort and companionship but he'd not dared to hope that he'd come. Jarod hadn't even been sure Sidney would know he was back at the Centre, much less where he was being kept. Now, hearing Sidney's voice released a flood of pent up emotions in the pretender.

Sidney took another step and came into view. Jarod began weeping, allowing his emotions to flow freely. Sidney advanced, stopping a few feet in front of Jarod. He felt an instinctual urge to comfort Jarod, but he resisted. Sidney glanced at the security camera opposite Jarod and hesitated. He didn't want to look overly excited to see his pretender. The Centre was watching. Instead, he walked ahead, stopping a few feet in front of Jarod directly across from him.

Sidney yearned to protect Jarod, to shelter him. Jarod had been a son of sorts for nearly thirty years. Sidney knew he cared for Jarod as much as he cared for anyone, alive or dead. This only added to the guilt he felt about the crimes he'd been a part of committing upon Jarod during his youth at the Centre.

Sidney's guilt increased as he viewed Jarod's battered body in person. A dull ache spread in Sidney's chest. He wished he could embrace the younger man but knew it was too dangerous. Sidney hesitated a moment, postponing looking at Jarod's face, meeting his eyes.

Sidney's eyes ran over the pretender's body, cataloging minor injuries here and there. His ribs were badly bruised on his left side. There were several abrasions on his arms and neck. None of the injuries were serious enough to threaten Jarod's life, but they all bore testament to what the last twenty-four hours had held for him. Sidney's face shown concern for Jarod and anger at what was being done to him. The vile nature of life at the Centre was etched in every bruise and mark Sidney saw.

Catching Sidney's eyes, Jarod spoke. "Sidney..." he said. His voice trembling.

The intensity of the moment was obvious in Jarod's dark intelligent eyes. Sidney could see Jarod's eyes were still filled with tears. A mix of relief and grief washed over the pretender's face. Sidney could see that Jarod wished he hadn't seen him like this, confined, caged. But, Jarod's shame seemed to be tempered by simple joy that the elder man had come at all. Jarod needed Sidney; he needed him to be there, perhaps more than he ever had before. Sidney hoped he could be the man Jarod needed him to be.

Having recovered his voice, Jarod spoke again. "I wasn't sure they'd let you see me." he managed to say. His voice was childlike and quiet.

"They weren't going to. I changed their minds." Sidney answered quietly.

Sidney met Jarod's gaze slowly. Then, he locked eyes with his beloved charge. Sidney delayed revealing his purpose in coming, wishing his official reason for being there was different. Jarod heard the silence that suggested Sidney had chosen to censor the rest of the bargain he'd made to make this visit possible. But, Jarod didn't care what deal had been made. He needed Sidney near. He'd contend with the consequences of his visit later.

The emotion on Jarod's face told Sidney a tale of conflicted and powerful emotions. Jarod's eyes brimmed with unspent tears. He'd felt so terribly alone since his return. The isolation had been more painful than anything Lyle had yet done to him. Having Sidney here beside him was more than he could have hoped for. His chin quivered as he fought to control the waves of emotions flowing through him. His 'refuge' had finally come.

Sidney thought back to the argument he'd had with Lyle the day before as he'd demanded to see Jarod. Jarod had been right to wonder if Sidney would be allowed to see him. There were many who wanted to prevent their meeting. Sidney was pleased he'd fought so hard to see his pretender. It was obvious it meant a great deal to Jarod that he'd come.

Sidney shifted his weight and took a half step forward, placing his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out to comfort Jarod. He was aware of the electronic eye behind him. Instead, Sidney's gentle eyes seemed to embrace Jarod. Jarod smiled slightly. Sidney appreciated the brave show, but he understood better than anyone else what being back at the Centre meant to his pretender. Sidney felt a twinge in his neck and swallowed hard. He needed to focus.

Sidney spoke again. His voice remaining quiet. His message was for Jarod, not the camera. "A man living his nightmares shouldn't have to do so alone." Sidney said. His eyes glistened wet. He truly did wish he could comfort his pretender.

Sidney's words released a second wave of emotion in Jarod. His face tightened into an anguished distorted mask. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears rolled down his cheeks. Sidney's words were comforting, but nothing could truly diminish despair Jarod felt as he assimilated the experience of being a prisoner again. Sidney sensed Jarod retreating so far inside himself that Sidney wondered if he would be lost. Sidney stepped closer, hoping his proximity would coax Jarod back out.

Despite all his years of counseling, Dr. Sidney Green could think of nothing to say that would ease the pain of his most important of clients. He'd never felt so inadequate, so impotent. Sidney looked away. Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to feel the weight of his own flagitiousness. Sidney intuitively understood there was nothing he could say that would heal the emotional torment he was now saw. His role was simply to bare witness of it. Jarod deserved at least that. The silence between them seemed merciful. It gave both men a chance to honor intensity of the moment in a way words could not.

Sidney's eyes returned to Jarod's face, only to flee again as he saw the emotion tearing through him. It was painful to watch such a physically large and mentally strong man as Jarod in such depths of despair. Sidney stared at the ground, feeling the weight of his betrayal to the sacred oath of his profession, "do no harm." He felt responsible for Jarod's tears as much as anyone. Sidney silently cursed himself.

After a few minutes, the storm inside Jarod subsided. Sidney gathered courage and looked back at his pretender. He could see Jarod's shoulders beginning to relax. Jarod's eyes were closed, and his face was calmer. Jarod took in a deep breath that seemed to center him. He seemed very still, motionless. He seemed to be in a sort of a self-hypnotic state. Finally, Jarod opened his eyes, letting them drop to the floor. They were clear and sad, but he was back. He took several deep and controlled breaths reigning in the last of his emotions before he let his eyes meet Sidney's again.

Sidney's clinical mind asserted itself as he observed the change in Jarod's demeanor. Sidney noted a sense of inertia and containment within Jarod that he'd never completely understood. Jarod seemed to find internal resources that even Sidney hadn't imagined were there. Sidney still found himself surprised even after all these years at how resilient his pretender was. Despite his display of emotions a few moments before, Jarod now seemed genuinely recovered and in command of his emotions. In Sidney's judgment, Jarod had remained remarkably poised, considering the circumstance.

Sidney patiently waited for Jarod to be ready to interact. Jarod tentatively raised his eyes, meeting Sidney's again. Sidney noted in wonderment that there was still a sense of warmth that radiated from his pretender. He could still see hope in Jarod's eyes nestled along side the pain. The silence that connected the two men seemed too stalwart to break. Sidney nodded and raised one eyebrow, silently asking Jarod if he was all right. Jarod managed a small gentle smile in return. Sidney noted the dark shadow in Jarod's eyes remained despite the smile on his lips. It was remarkable to him that this boy, this man, in front of him had managed to remain as intact has he had despite all the violence he'd been subjected to over the years.

As Jarod returned Sidney's gaze, his eyes revealed his connection to the other man. His features were softer and almost childlike. Gone was the tension in his face. Jarod now allowed his true feelings to show, both the tender ones he felt for Sidney and his grief about his own current circumstances. He had never hidden himself from Sidney. Sidney had been his world, his confidant for over twenty years. Even after he left the Centre, Sidney had remained the only person he'd ever trusted; the only person he could ever be certain of.

Sidney meant more to Jarod than either man could understand or explain. Sidney had been the only anchor, the only light, for most of Jarod's life. Since leaving the Centre, Jarod had lived a life filled with sweepers and the constant need to keep moving, keep running. He'd occasionally had moments of closeness with others, but he never truly had the luxury of letting anyone else in. Sidney was still his only family.

Finally Sidney broke the silence. "How ~are~ you, Jarod?" he asked. Sidney's voice was cautious but Jarod could hear the genuineness of his concern. Sidney's eyes looked sad and worried. A line between his brows showed Sidney's apprehension about Jarod's mental and physical state. Jarod looked away, shifting his weight from one leg to the other self-consciously. He didn't want to disappoint his mentor. He didn't want to look weak.

"I've been through worse." Jarod finally said, trying to roll his eyes and make light of his situation. He managed a weak smile. Jarod met Sidney's eyes for a moment before he looked away again. Sidney returned the smile. He knew Jarod needed to be seen as strong and capable. He wished Jarod knew that he already saw him that way and that nothing Lyle forced him to do would change that. Sidney had already seen more strength in Jarod than he possessed himself. He admired the younger man more than Jarod would ever know.

Sidney suppressed a shiver. The image of Jarod trying to be strong as he stood chained in this lab was etching itself into Sidney's brain. His thoughts involuntarily turned to other disturbing images from his past. The recollections of train cars loaded with 'refugees' being 'resettled' by the Nazi's and the sounds and smells of burned out homes and factories momentarily inundated his thoughts. Sidney mentally shook himself. He knew the sight of Jarod chained in the lab would haunt him as those images had. "Perhaps," he thought, "This is the price I pay for looking away when I had the chance to do something." One last image came to mind, the radiant face of Catherine Parker followed by her graveside funeral.

Sidney forced himself back to the present. Gazing at Jarod, he shook his head, displeased with everything he saw. "It doesn't have to be this way," he thought. Sidney hoped the chairman would quickly realize this kind of manhandling was unnecessary. Raines had always been too quick to solve a problem with violence and Lyle followed the same pattern. Sidney believed that had been the primary flaw in the other men's attempts to produce pretenders on par with Jarod.

Sidney forced himself to refocus. He needed to clinically assess Jarod's condition. That's why he was there. That fact forced his mind past any remaining personal feelings for the man in front of him. He needed to know when Jarod would be able to work. He needed to know that he was ready to work for the Centre again.

"How long has it been since they gave you a meal or let you rest." Sidney asked. His voice was gentle, but Jarod could hear Sidney's displeasure with Lyle's tactics. Jarod couldn't help but smirk. His dark sense of humor had returned. A warm feeling spread in the pretender's chest. It had been a very long time since anyone had shown concern for him.

"Meal?" Jarod's eyes sparkled, the dry humor obvious to Sidney. Jarod's face took on an animated half smile and he shrugged. Sidney was pleased to see his pupil remained able to find humor in his plight. Sidney doubted Jarod truly felt as strong or as comfortable as he now looked, but the sight relieved him none the less. Perhaps Jarod truly was managing better than he'd supposed.

"I'll be okay, Sidney. Don't worry." Jarod said, sensing Sidney's uncertainty and need for reassurance. Sidney nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, studying the pretender again. He was not certain how much of Jarod's rediscovered composure was genuine. He wondered how fragile his pretender really was.

Jarod was quickly uncomfortable with both the scrutiny and the silence. He looked away and the smile dropped from his face. Even when it was Sidney studying him, Jarod disliked the feeling of being a "subject." Sidney sensed his disquiet and attempted to make conversation.

"I'll talk to Lyle about your treatment." Sidney offered quietly, gesturing with one hand as if to say 'this is all I have to give you.' Sidney pressed his lips together, censoring his anger toward Lyle. Voicing it here would do Jarod no good.

Sidney quickly added. "You need some rest." As he nodded in Jarod's direction.

Jarod smiled again. Sidney's disapproval about his current situation remained apparent. Jarod felt warmth in his chest, the emotional equivalent of receiving a hug. He glanced at the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Even after all my time away, you still wanted to take care of me." He thought to himself. It felt reassuring to know he had a benefactor, but in his current surroundings of concrete and chains, however, Sidney's sentiment struck Jarod as truly comical. He resisted the urge to laugh.

Changing the subject, Jarod made eye contact with Sidney again. "How is Miss Parker?" he asked. He fidgeted, afraid of what the answer might be. He had tried to sound nonchalant despite his worries about her welfare. His feelings for Parker were more platonic than romantic, but they were strong. Parker had grown up with him, as nearly a sibling as he had at the time. She had become a beautiful woman. But, to him, she'd always be the traumatized child he'd heard screaming in the hallway after her mother had been shot. He loved her. He knew that. He just didn't know where that knowledge would lead him just yet.

Parker was one of the very few people whom Jarod felt close to. She knew first hand what it was to be a child growing up in the Centre. Speaking with her, he felt understood. There was no pretense. She knew exactly what he was and what he'd been doing for the Centre all these years. There was no need to explain or to justify. He could simply be himself. She didn't reject him or judge him. She'd been a child there too. There was an unspoken code between then that necessitated distance, but beneath is all was the knowledge that he loved her and always would. Right now he was worried. Lyle could easily use his capture against her.

"She's been transferred back to Corporate." Sidney answered. He spoke directly, watching for a reaction from Jarod. Jarod noticed the guarded response and gathered Sidney was trying to protect him again.

Jarod hesitated before responding. "Is she okay?" he asked. His voice more tentative than he might have liked. He looked into Sidney's eyes, searching them to see if he was telling the truth.

Sidney maintained eye contact, but a shadow crept into them. "She will be." He said simply. Then he added, "Right now her father is very happy you're back. She..." Sidney hesitated. "I think she is evaluating her options."

Miss Parker had only spoken to Sidney briefly since being told she'd been transferred. She'd behaved as if nothing of substance had changed. Sidney doubted the truth of how she was, was as simple as a change in her office location.

Sidney read Jarod's disappointment that his answer wasn't more personal. "You know she can't come here." Sidney said. He searched Jarod's eyes, mentally categorizing what he found.

Jarod nodded agreement, but looked sad and disappointed. Jarod wanted to ask if Parker missed him, but was afraid of what the answer might be. He often had the feeling that no one missed him. Perhaps that's why family was so important. As he understood it, family never forgets you. They never stop missing you. At least he hoped that was true. He knew he'd never stopped missing them...or at least the idea of them. He hoped that was true of his parents as well.

Silence grew between the two men again as each was lost in his own thoughts. Jarod enjoyed being with Sidney, but being there, being inside the Centre, was too painful to confront directly. He found his mind instinctively deflecting itself onto tangents of other thoughts. Some were questions he wanted to ask but was too afraid to vocalize. Others were observations that seemed out of place given the context. In the end, Jarod could think of nothing to say. Sidney, by contrast, had many things he needed to say. Just none he wanted to. His heart felt heavy, but he knew it was time.

Sidney again broke the silence with a confession. He shifted uneasily from one foot to another, making eye contact with a stilted sideways glance. Jarod read his body language and braced for the bad news he sensed was coming.

"I told Lyle I'd talk to you about doing simulations again." Sidney finally said. It was the truth. Sidney had agreed to discuss it and he knew he'd delayed as long as he could. He knew Jarod would not easily comply, not even out of loyalty to him. But, he also knew his future at the Centre depended in large measure on his success at readapting Jarod to the Pretender Project. Failure in this regard was unacceptable. Sidney felt a cold chill pass through him. The Centre was an unforgiving master.

Jarod was speechless. His world spun. He felt as if someone had sucked the air out of his lungs. How could Sidney even suggest that!? He felt off balance, unsure. He'd been certain Sidney understood why he couldn't do any more simulations. Sidney had seen the same news clippings he had. They both knew what their work had been used for. Jarod was clear he could never do simulations for them again. His shock was that Sidney didn't already understand that. His face revealed alternately horror, and disbelief.

"I can't do that, Sidney." Jarod finally stammered, still shocked Sidney had even agreed to bring it up with him. Sidney could see emotions begin to churn inside his pretender. Conviction filled Jarod's voice as he announced, "I won't. I won't help them!" Jarod's eyes became dark and hard. There was no questioning his resolve.

Jarod stared into Sidney's eyes accusing the elder man of complicity. "You know what they've done with my work." Jarod said in a near whisper as he clenched his teeth, fighting back waves of emotion. In his mind, a thousand snap shots of simulations over the years flashed by followed by news clippings he'd later found of how those same simulations had been played out in all manor of death and destruction. Jarod's eyes were wet again, threatening to spill tears. The weight of innocent lives taken or ruined by things he'd thought up weighed heavily on his soul. Unlike before, these tears spoke to vengeance as much as grief. Jarod's stomach raged with acid.

Sidney stepped closer, pleading for Jarod to see reason. Sidney brought up his hands as he tried to placate his pretender with the gesture. "Jarod, I know how you must feel, but..." Sidney stopped speaking when he saw the look in Jarod's eyes.

Jarod's eyes burned into the other man's face with a look as near hate as Sidney had ever seen in his protégé. Jarod's words cut Sidney off before the older man could return to his thought. "You don't know!" He shouted as he leaned toward Sidney, stopped by the length of chain that held him in place. Jarod closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. He refocused, controlling his emotions, and took a breath. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze felt like a laser trained on Sidney.

Jarod forced his voice to be steady. He spoke with intensity equal to his last words, but a quieter more controlled tone, "You don't know, Sidney. You don't know how it feels to meet the orphaned child of the man dead because you thought up a better way to bomb an airplane or execute an assassination." Emotion infused Jarod's words. "You don't know what it feels like to know everything you've done has been used to destroy innocent people's lives. You don't know..." Jarod's voice quivered. He couldn't finish. A tear spilled onto his cheek. Internally, his chest felt as if it was exploding as pressure built up with no where to go. Jarod refused to forgive himself for what he'd been a part of. He simply couldn't.

The sense of responsibility and incredible guilt Jarod felt, enveloped him. Jarod saw Sidney wince as he maintained eye contact with his mentor, but he refused to look away. He wanted Sidney to see it what he'd helped create. He wanted Sidney to understand.

Jarod's eyes burned fire as the rest of his face spoke to the pain at knowing he'd become a weapon in the hands of the Centre. He'd been used not just to hurt others but to destroy them. He'd been used to tear apart families and separate fathers and mothers from their children. He'd been a part of doing to others what had been done to him. And, that was what he couldn't forgive himself for.

Jarod let his eyes finish what his voice couldn't. His gaze felt like acid on Sidney's soul. Sidney knew Jarod was right. He also knew Jarod's guilt was misplaced. He'd been project head, Jarod had simply been a project "component". As Sidney looked into Jarod's eyes, he came face to face with the fact he'd never truly know what it was to be in his pretender's shoes.

Jarod slumped back against the post, but he kept his eyes locked on Sidney's. He felt emotionally spent. His mind was clouded with all the ways his work, his thoughts, had been used to hurt others and how Sidney had been a part of it. The continued conflict between his deep affection for Sidney and his incredible sense of betrayal stormed on within the pretender. Unable to resolve it once again, Jarod looked away, breaking eye contact with Sidney.

Jarod swallowed hard, looking defeated. "Those were lives ~I~ look, Sidney." Jarod said quietly, his voice catching as he fought back tears.

Sidney stood silent, his hands having dropped to his side. Sidney struggled to find words. This time his voice was somber. "If there is blood on your hands, it's on mine as well." He said firmly.

Sidney sighed and continued calmly, his words a confession as much as a concession to Jarod. "You were a child... and a prisoner here. I was not."

Sidney's reticence to the admission was obvious. He'd intentionally chosen to blind himself to the cold truth of the nature of his work with Jarod for far too many years. Even now, it was difficult for him to fathom the villainy he'd been part of. Though he distanced himself from the emotions so obvious in Jarod, he too felt the weight of the lives he'd effected.

Sidney had engineered the Pretender project. He known it's potential. He'd simply trusted that the Centre would use Jarod's gift to better the world. He'd once trusted the Tower. Back then he'd been naive, but later he'd simply permitted himself to ignore the truth or excuse his actions in the name of science. He'd long since known nothing as noble as "science" could justify what he'd done. The truth was, Sidney hadn't wanted to know what the Centre did with the simulations. He cared only that Jarod was protected, that his gift was developed to it's full potential. Now, Sidney lived with the burden of his inaction. He only wished he could ease Jarod's guilt, or perhaps his own.

Knowing he had no choice, Sidney returned to the subject of simulations. The Centre did not care about the emotional toll it would take on Jarod if he returned to work. They simply demanded that he would. Sidney was here to ensure that would happen. Sidney spoke again, his voice hesitant. "Jarod," he said, pausing to precisely measure his next words, "If you don't help them... you know what they will do to you."

Sidney's face remained calm, clinically neutral as always, but Jarod knew him well enough to read past that to the emotion inside. Sidney was afraid for him. Perhaps Sidney was afraid for himself as well. Jarod simply nodded in response and looked away. Jarod knew very well the kinds of things the Centre and Lyle were capable of. He also knew he would not allow himself to be used by them again. It no longer mattered what happened to him. To Jarod, what happened to him had been of little consequence for some time. In the darkness of that moment Jarod took comfort in the memory of the faces of those whom he'd helped since his escape four years earlier. He hoped they'd be his legacy, his penance - if it came to that.

It seemed clear the subject of simulations was closed. Sidney sighed and raised his hand to his chin, rubbing his face regretfully. He paused, looking back at Jarod and considered his next words carefully. He glanced over his shoulder before speaking. He unconsciously put his hand near his mouth, partly obscuring his face as he spoke. "I can't help you, Jarod. They're watching me very closely." he said looking pained.

Sidney's anguish about the truth of his statement was palpable. Sidney knew the limits of what would be tolerated. His loyalty was already in question. The Centre had to believe he still held their priorities above his own if he wanted to live long enough to see Nicolas give him a grandson. Sidney cared for Jarod, but he was a pragmatic man. He'd surrendered his illusions years before. He had not yet found a way to do any more than simply get access to Jarod. He privately doubted his ability to truly help Jarod when it came to his incarceration at the Centre.

Jarod half smiled, not quite meeting Sidney's eyes. "I understand." He said, though his emotions told a different tale. Jarod managed to speak the words in a steady voice, though he felt himself again in tune with one of his oldest and deepest wounds, betrayal. It echoed the ache that came from lacking a family; lacking people who loved ~him~. Jarod was aware of the delicate position Sidney was in. Sidney had his own family to protect. Jarod winced inwardly. ~His family.~ Jarod knew that no matter how much Sidney cared for him, at some level, he would always be Sidney's "subject," not his son.

Sidney swallowed hard, wishing there was more he could say, knowing nothing he said would make a difference now. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He managed. They both knew there was little either of them could do to improve Jarod's situation in the near term. Jarod nodded, and Sidney retreated toward the door, relieved to be free of Jarod's gaze.

Suddenly, Jarod's head turned. He called out to Sidney, hoping he wasn't gone yet. "Sidney!" He shouted, the urgency clear in his voice. He needed Sidney to hear one more thing before he left.

"Yes, Jarod." Sidney said as he stopped. He turned and walked back into Jarod's line of sight. Sidney was attuned to the tone of Jarod's voice and knew whatever Jarod had to say, it was important.

"I won't give up, Sidney." Jarod promised. Sidney wasn't sure if it was confidence or desperation he heard behind the words. What he did know was that Jarod was not yet defeated. Jarod locked eyes once again with his mentor. Passion and conviction replaced the pain in he'd seen a few minutes before. Sidney stood breathless, taken off guard by Jarod's surprising resilience.

"I'll never give up." Jarod repeated again, more confident this time. He held Sidney's gaze until Sidney nodded in response. Sidney recalled Jarod had told him that the first time when he was ten years old. Sidney had since come to believe that his charge was speaking the truth. One thing was certain, Jarod would never give up wanting his freedom and wanting back the family the Centre had taken from him, no matter how long he had to wait for them.

Sidney also recognized that Jarod was asking for someone to believe him. He needed that. Perhaps it was the one gift he still could give his pretender. Sidney turned on one foot, facing Jarod. "I know, Jarod. I know." He said. His voice sounded fatherly again. His role as teacher and mentor again forefront in his mind.

Sidney wished he could reassure Jarod further, but there was nothing he could do. Sidney saw Jarod's body relax and he hoped his words had been a comfort in some small way. He hoped Jarod wouldn't give up. There needed to be idealists in the world, even if he no longer had the strength for it.

Sidney turned and walked back toward the door of the bio lab. He reached for the handle and turned it, stepping through what looked like a door from a ship or a submarine. Once on the outside, he turned the small wheel that acted as a handle on the door, sealing it. Sidney intuitively shivered as he adjusted to the lighting in the hallway. Something visceral inside him rebelled at the experience of being inside a prison, even though he was not the prisoner.

Sidney knew it was time to make another visit to Lyle's office. He walked quickly to the elevator. Inside the lab on the other side of the steel door, Jarod listened to Sidney's heavy footfalls fade into the distance. He was alone again.


Lyle's office

Lyle sat in a high leather backed chair enjoying a $300.00 cigar and vintage bottle of wine from the Chairman's private reserve. He was congratulating himself. The Chairman, ~Dad~, had been very pleased that the Centre's most valuable asset had been returned intact. As a reward for the job well done, Lyle was being placed in charge of Jarod for the time being.

Lyle mentally reviewed his next tactical move. He knew it would be important to produce revenue quickly. Jarod's value to him was in the immediate cash flow he would create through a variety of covert military contracts. Lyle had many plans for the Centre, most of which required a lack of oversight from the Triumvirate. He knew they would care little about how the Centre was run if the books remained well in the black. If he could get Jarod working again, everything would fall into place.

Lyle saw Sidney coming down the hall through the glass of his office door some time before Sidney could see him. Sidney looked as if he was marching for war. His face was stern and his body was stiff. Lyle's face broke into a cunning smile. Things were going just as he'd expected.

Lyle's smiled relaxed. A warm tingling sense of satisfaction washed over him. He knew he had the upper hand. He possessed the one thing Sidney wanted, Jarod. Lyle had not only claimed Sidney's prized pet, he'd proven he was the better man. Sidney would have never brought Jarod back. Sidney was too soft. Lyle toasted himself congratulations, lifting his glass in the direction of Sidney's approaching figure before he took a sip.

Lyle continued watching Sidney as he passed another office, moving ever near to his own. Lyle had never liked the psychiatrist. Lyle found those in the psychiatric community often irritated him. Sidney was no exception to that rule. They were all too busy worrying about the well being of their charges to get anything done. In fact, the only physician Lyle had ever liked had been Raines. Raines seemed to be a man of action. He admired the way the codger maintained power and how his adversaries feared him.

Thinking of Raines brought a smile to Lyle's face. He respected his colleague and felt understood by him. He had since he'd first met Dr. Raines when he was a teenager. Even then Lyle had felt the true measure of a man was to be found in the level of dominance he attained. It was the natural order. He'd learned that as a child from his father and from watching the animals he hunted in the woods.

Another thought passed into Lyle's consciousness. It was the memory of his tyrannical father locking him in the dark woodshed for days at a time. The image wiped the smile from Lyle's face. He reached for the bottle of wine on his desk, refilling his glass. He gulped down the burgundy liquid and filled the glass again. "I learned a lot about dominance from my father." He thought darkly.

Lyle turned and his eyes followed Sidney as he cross the final distance to Lyle's office. Sidney's face was serious as he advanced down the corridor. He walked with purpose, Lyle noted with pleasure. Lyle had been waiting for Sidney. Lyle had once learned to play chess from Mr. Raines. He now enjoyed applying those same principles to his interactions with Sidney. "Every thing is about position and strategic advantage." he thought.

It had been easy enough for Lyle to redirect Miss Parker. The chairman has been kind enough to accommodate Lyle's suggestion that his daughter would both be happier and easier to control at Corporate. Mr. Parker understood his daughter would be less of a ~problem~ if she no longer had access to Jarod. Miss Parker was far too attached to him. Lyle doubted she'd have the will to force Jarod to comply with the needs of the Centre. Mr. Parker had agreed and consequently, the chairman himself had expedited Miss Parker's transfer. Managing Sidney would be more complicated.

As Sidney reached the door, Lyle swiveled in his chair to face him head on, taking a puff on his cigar as Sidney entered the room. Lyle greeted Sidney with a nod as he exhaled smoke in Sidney's direction. Lyle didn't bother to suppress his pleasure at seeing the older man so provoked.

"Lyle." Sidney growled the words as he entered, pausing and wrinkling his nose at the less than pleasant scent of the cigar smoke in the air.

"Have a seat, Sidney." Lyle said, gesturing toward the chair nearest his guest. Sidney strolled across Lyle's office, stopping near his desk. Sidney elected to ignore Lyle's suggestion of sitting. He was too angry to sit.

"What are you doing with Jarod." Sidney demanded, his eyes accusing Lyle of a crime. Lyle noted the older man was angry, but he was also in command of his emotions. Sidney knew better than to fly off the handle. Lyle smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

"I'm doing exactly what I want to do." Lyle said. Turning his head to the side, he blew a ring of smoke. Turning back to face Sidney he added, "And... you don't have anything to say about it." Lyle sat forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his desk. He leveled his eyes with Sidney's. If the old man had come to fight, Lyle'd gladly take him on.

Sidney paused slightly before he spoke again. It was subtle, but Lyle was certain he saw Sidney's confidence waver. Lyle loved that moment. It signaled he had won. In Lyle's view, everything, every moment of life, was a contest, a struggle for power. He felt warmth spreading through his chest. He wasn't sure if the source was the wine or the intoxication of power he now wielded over Sidney.

Sidney seemed to regroup and tried another tact. "You can't expect Jarod to cooperate when he's being treated like this." He said. Sidney resented having to plead his case to Lyle. Jarod was his. He had engineered the Pretender project when Lyle was still learning to tie his shoelaces. Struggling now for control of that same project seemed ludicrous to the elder man.

"Maybe you don't know your ~lab rat~ as well as I do." Lyle said in a sly voice. Sidney flinched at Lyle's characterization of Jarod. Lyle enjoyed watching Sidney's response. Lyle relaxed back into his chair. Swiveling to the left, he reclined slightly. Lyle feigned lack of interest in Sidney's words. It was a calculated attempt to display his command of the situation.

Sidney knew that, but felt himself respond automatically. Sidney's face grew hot and flushed. He knew Lyle was a cog in a much larger machine, something Lyle had yet to learn. Sidney had managed to survive inside the Centre for thirty years. He'd out maneuvered men like Lyle before, when they got in the way of his work. Sidney knew both how to protect his interests and to protect Jarod. He'd been doing it longer than Lyle had been able to spell 'pretender'.

Sidney pressed his lips together and then spoke directly to Lyle. "Jarod needs rest. He needs food. He needs to recover from the trauma of his capture." He stated flatly, though his eyes seemed to shoot daggers at Lyle. "If you don't give these things to him, Jarod will not be useful." Sidney added.

Then, Sidney's voice became calmer. "If he is damaged, it's not just the chairman who will have to answer to the Triumvirate." Sidney said in a tone more reminiscent of a friendly warning than a threat. Sidney watched Lyle's internal composure flicker. Sidney suppressed a smile.

Lyle leaned forward in his chair extending his arm and balancing his cigar on the edge of an ashtray. He straightened his tie, then looked Sidney in the eye. "I'm in charge. I'll do things my way. I'm not the one who lost Jarod in the first place." He said, speaking each word with the confidence only a 32-year-old corporate climber can have. Sidney'd lived too long to possess the same bravado. He looked away, suppressing the urge to laugh. Lyle was no more in control of the situation than he was.

Sidney stood in silence for a moment, then turned, seeing a chair beside him. He stepped to it and sat. His mind and body felt tired. It was easier for the moment to surrender to Lyle's authority. Sidney knew this battle didn't matter. It was the larger war over who'd work with Jarod that did. Sidney knew he'd need to keep Lyle on his side until his colleagues in the Tower saw reason.

Sidney also knew Lyle wanted to see him submit, so he decided to play that role. He knew it best not to tip his hand to the truth of how he'd handle Lyle just yet. Sidney placed a hand on each knee and took a deep breath. Today's battle had been fought. It was time to report his findings to his superior of the moment. He looked at Lyle and began.

"I spoke to Jarod about working for the Centre again." Sidney reported. He was now simply going through the motions of notifying Lyle of Jarod's response. His voice revealed his fatigue, though it was more mild than he hoped Lyle would infer. Sidney knew how to use Lyle's image of him as an "old man" to his advantage. He was not so weak as the younger man assumed.

Gesturing with one hand, Lyle broke in, "And let me guess. Jarod said 'no'." He'd anticipated Jarod's response before he'd sent Sidney down to talk with him. Sidney nodded. Lyle remained calm, assuming a casual pose intended to communicate his comfort and control of the situation. He seemed to think for a moment and cocked his head to one side.

Sidney watched Lyle, only slightly annoyed. Then Sidney continued, saying. "Jarod doesn't trust the Centre. He ..."

Lyle interrupted again, this time he locked eyes with the older man, "He doesn't trust you, Sid." Lyle said as he tapped a finger on the desk. Lyle raised his eyebrows, increasing the intensity of his gaze. "Your job is to get him to look past that."

Sidney sat up straighter. His offence was obvious in his posture. In Sidney's mind, Lyle hadn't earned the right to make such bold accusations. From Sidney's view, Lyle understood nothing about his relationship with Jarod.