Interludes

It was thick, warm, abundant. Blood tinged with water, not water tinged with blood as she'd heard would be the case. Her thoughts were jumbled, unsure. Should she be horrified, relieved? Her hands gripped the tops of her thighs as she looked downward, caught her breath.

Mama!

Dark hair matted around her face as she thrust forward on the bed, knees bent outward, hands flying to her midsection. She hiccuped, shook her head to clear it both of the cobwebs of sleep and the sweat-dampened strands of hair that clung to her forehead.

Still there. The voices were low, stuttered as always. Parker had never managed to separate her mother's voice from the static in the background, but with each moment of focus it seemed to become clearer. The fuzz was still there, but lingering ever farther behind the strong sound of her mother's voice: Still there. Your time will come.

True to her dream, she was unsure what to think. Since the moment she'd left the Centre, she'd known that something was amiss. She'd known that she wasn't herself. As Sydney would have said (and then duly psychoanalyzed), she couldn't quite put her finger on it. But Ethan, Ethan knew. Ethan heard the voices - all of the voices - clear as the ringing of the Cathedral bell at times, as twisted together as a pretzel at others. Today it was her mother's voice, loud and brilliant and full of truth.

She hadn't known until he'd heard the voice; Sydney would have said she caused the static, projected it onto the line as it were, because deep in the heart of the matter she knew she wasn't ready to hear it, didn't want to know what there was little doubt of. Miss Parker was a Centre experiment, just like the others. Just like Jarod in some ways, just like Margaret in others. Like Catherine, but fine-tuned from birth.

The cycle stops here, she thought. The voices hissed in response, no simple response available. Oh, Mama. I don't know what to do.

NotJarod stood in the doorway, eyes dark and wet as he searched her figure in the darkness. This should have been his mother, he had thought when he first met her. The thought had dissapated as he aged, whether it was from lack of contact or puberty he was unsure, but suddenly it hit him again. This should have been his mother, he could have protected her from this. Though his birth would have been just as much a violation in the end, he reconciled. At least this child would have parents, even if they were simply unintentional allies.

--

"No, Jarod. No, I'm sure we haven't seen her. You're right, I thought we would have at least seen some bank activity. She's got to withdraw money if she's going on the run. Are you sure she wasn't going back to the Centre? No. No, I'll keep an eye out Jarod, but I don't know what she's planning. Are you sure she didn't already have the money on her person? She certainly had the means... Try getting into the Centre mainframe, see what you can find? Find out if the experiment moved forward already or... there's nothing in the Centre mainframe? So this directive came from outside... or the top?"

Major Charles' side of the conversation was all Ethan could hear, but it was fairly obvious Jarod was getting frantic.

After hearing the click of the phone, Ethan turned to his father, patiently silent.

"Jarod is... concerned."

"They were friends once," Ethan paused, listening to what was not said, "They are friends now, but it isn't the same. He has an... affection for her."

Major Charles snorted quietly, "He's in love with her. I know my son, time and distance not withstanding. I'm just not sure she returns his feelings." My son will resent me, he acknowledged.

"When has she had the time? To care for him, I mean. Whether she's in the Centre or out, she'll always be watching her back, waiting for them to... for something." Jim stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped.

She was still not sleeping, she would probably join them soon, he knew but chose not to volunteer the information.

"This complicates things, and we're not even sure what this is," Major Charles adds, eyes drifting over the form of his son - his cloned son, a boy he could love no more if he had created him himself.

"Yes," Ethan nodded, pausing and tilting his head. "The voices, they are never wrong, Dad." Major Charles let out a sigh in response. "We should... hide her, make her safe, until we know what to do."

Again, Major Charles did not respond.

"Will she have the baby?" Jim asked, his voice hushed. "Do you want her to?" he zeroed in on his somewhat-father.

"The child has done nothing wrong," was his answer. "I love my children. All of my children," his eyes burned into the boys'.

Jim ducked his head, then jerked forward as he felt warm hands close over his shoulders. "Miss Parker!" he yelped.

She chuckled low in her throat, moving into the warm glow of the kitchen and slowly taking the seat between Major Charles and Ethan. "Good to know I haven't lost my touch." Parker released a nervous sigh, "Jarod must be kept out of this. We may need to use him or his assistance later, but at this point, he is to know nothing," she said pointedly. "Until then, I need to figure out a game plan, decide what to do. First and foremost, I need protection for Sydney and his family, Broots and Debbie. That you can provide for them, I can't. And then, I need to find a place sufficient enough to stay hidden from the Centre while I figure out the best way to approach this. If Jarod knows about this place, it isn't safe. We need a bunker or something," another quiet chuckle.

"Miss Parker..."

"I am not suggesting I run from you," she interrupted, "and I am not suggesting you hide me. I am suggesting that we find a place that is quiet and safe to settle long enough to make a decision. Then we'll go our separate ways."

"I do not want to lose another child." The Major's voice was firm but kind, and Parker's eyes flickered away from his. "We don't know exactly what the Centre has done, but if the Centre was only looking for collateral to use against Jarod - a non-Pretender child in exchange for a Pretender father - they would have done this years ago, or at least claimed to have done it. The likelihood that you are carrying my child is high, Miss Parker."

"The Center will not touch my child, Major," she dropped her head into her hands, cringing as the voices hissed louder, eyes sliding closed then opening again to catch his, "regardless of who the father may be."

No one will take you from me, little one. This time it was not her mother's voice, but her own. I will find a way for you.

Taking it for as much a concession, an assurance of safety for the child, as she could give, Major Charles nodded, taking one of her hands from her face. "I will promise to keep Jarod at bay, and if we sense that he is coming, I promise that you shall be hidden to the best of Ethan's, your's, Jim's and my abilities. Four against one, and five against the Centre. We will find a way to remove Sydney and Broots from their grip. But you must promise me to take care of the child, to love it, and to stay away from the Centre as best you can. Your child, Miss Parker, depends on you now. Later, it will depend on all of us."