Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 1
The Pretender looked down at the list lying on the table in front of him, things that he urgently required, but he was unwilling to leave Sydney alone.
"Jarod?"
The man looked up to see his neighbor in the doorway. Henry raised an eyebrow as he entered the apartment.
"How's he doing?"
"Badly." Jarod paused. “And there's a whole bunch of stuff he really needs and I don't have."
"So go and get it. I'll stay here, make sure he doesn't wander off."
"Sure?"
"Of course. Hey, I owe you one, big time. If I can help to repay it, even a little, by giving you a hand..."
"You're the best, Henry." Jarod got to his feet. "I'll try not to be long. I doubt that he'll wake up, but if he does..."
"I cared for my dad when he had problems. I'm sure I can manage."
Slipping his jacket over his shoulders, Jarod smiled at his friend, cast one final look in through the bedroom door, and left the apartment.
"What is it?" the woman demanded when she answered the phone.
"Pneumonia."
Miss Parker dropped limply into the chair and stared at the speaker of her phone. "And that's serious, right?"
There was a second of silence on the other end. "It could be."
She slammed one fist down on the desk. "Dammit, Jarod! What do you mean 'It could be'? Is it or isn't it?"
"If it were you or me, probably not too serious. In someone of Sydney's age, it heightens the risks. Also it depends what type of pneumonia he's got."
"So what are you going to do about it?"
In the background, she could hear a car's engine stop as Jarod answered. "I'm going to treat it. What else would I do, Parker?"
There was a hint of frustration in his voice that she picked up on immediately and it made her decide not to ask the next question that she had thought of. After several seconds of silence, however, he answered it anyway.
"Yes, Parker, he might die. But I'm going to be fighting it every step of the way."
The sound of the dial tone filled the otherwise silent office.
"How's he doing?"
Henry glanced up to see Jarod in the doorway. "Not...bad," he responded reluctantly.
The Pretender nodded slowly and walked over to put the various bags down onto the table.
"Did you empty the shop?" the other man queried with a laugh.
Jarod grinned faintly. "Well, they might need to restock." He glanced into the bedroom and then back. "Can I ask you a favor?"
"Name it."
"I want you to build something for me."
"Like a spare room?" Henry suggested with a grin.
"Not quite that extravagant." Jarod half-smiled, pulled a lined pad over and took the pen out of his pocket. He drew something on the piece of paper before giving it to the carpenter. "I want to be able to raise the bed head."
Henry eyed the picture for a moment. "Are you sure you're a doctor and not really a builder in disguise?"
"If I wasn't a doctor, would I have been able to get all of this?"
Jarod indicated the tabletop, almost invisible under the items it was holding, making sure that his smile remained hidden.
"Good point." Henry stood up. "I'll get right on it." He grinned. "Just be thankful all the rooms in this building are virtually soundproof, or you'd be able to hear its construction."
Jarod's lips narrowed. "You'll be thankful for that later too, I'm guessing."
Sydney felt the pressure of something on his face and, with an effort, began to lift one hand to push it away, but felt his fingers gently held. He forced open his eyelids, struggling to focus on the man standing beside him.
"No, Sydney. Leave it. The oxygen will help you to breath."
Feeling the weight of something on his finger, Sydney tried to see what it was, but now found himself unable to move. Understanding, Jarod lifted the hand into Sydney's line of vision.
"It's a pulse oximeter." He lowered the hand, tucking it under the blanket. "Just try to rest. You know I'm going to take care of you."
Smiling faintly, Sydney let his eyelids fall, but the pain in his chest made it hard to relax. It felt like iron bands were squeezing him and Sydney struggled to remember when he had had this before, knowing that he had, at some point in time, been sick with this. Slowly, however, even as he tried to fight against the pain, a feeling of warmth entered his body and the difficulty of breathing became easier. Sydney tried to open his eyes, but now found that he wasn't able to, and could only faintly hear the words that were spoken in his ear.
"It's all right, Sydney. This will help, I promise."
Jarod pulled the syringe out of the plastic tube and recapped it, watching the man narrowly as the sedative began to work and he finally fell asleep. Dropping the used needle in a box that he had set on the bedside table for that purpose, Jarod checked that the humidifier working effectively before leaving the room.
"Miss Parker."
The woman looked up as the technician crept softly into her office and was about to snap out a response when she saw the look on his face, lowering her voice in response.
"What is it?"
"It's... I know where Jarod and Sydney are."
She stared at him. "How?"
"I tracked the video call. He made it direct, without sending it through a lot of other computers, and I found the address." Broots held out a piece of paper and watched as she slowly took it. Suddenly she looked at him.
"Does anybody else know about this?"
He shook his head. "I actually rerouted the call to a different address, just in case somebody else found out about it."
"Why?" Her voice was sharp as she stared at him.
"Well, I know that you're worried about Sydney too, like me, and I didn't think you want Jarod dragged back to the Centre before he cured him, so I thought it'd be better if maybe we went there, leaving Lyle behind to follow a few false leads, so I set some up."
For several seconds she continued to stare at him before suddenly standing and, before he could quite work out what she was going to do, hugging him. As she let him go, Broots put his hand on the desk to steady himself, trying to cope with what she had done, even as her voice became suddenly sharp.
"Good work, Broots. Are you ready to leave?"
"Leave for where, sis?"
They both turned at a loud voice in the doorway and, despite having seen him a few seconds earlier and spoken loudly to draw his attention, Miss Parker now hesitated. A smile curled the corner of her mouth, although she managed to hide it, as she watched Broots step forward.
"M... Mr. Lyle, sir, I think I know where Jarod might be." He pulled another sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out, the page trembling a little. Lyle snatched it out of his hand.
"And what's that?"
Even as he glanced over the address, Lyle nodded at the page that his twin sister held before glaring at the technician.
"I...It's a second possibility. I found them both."
"And which one's more likely?"
"That one." Broots' tone was reluctant as he nodded at the sheet in Lyle's hand, watching the other man smirk.
"Then I guess that my dear sister won't mind if I take a few sweepers along to check this little hideout while the three of you take that one."
Broots struggled not to grin and took a hesitant step backwards, watching out of the corner of his eye as Miss Parker nodded.
"I guess we can't be too careful. All right, Lyle." She turned back to grab her coat, watching as her brother spun around, hurrying from the room. "He didn't even look," she murmured quietly into the technician's ear.
"Even if he had," Broots responded equally softly, "I didn't write the correct address down, just in case. There's a few things mixed up and, in a city as big as that one, it may have taken him forever to find the right place."
She looked down at him admiringly. "We could have used you thinking like this more often."
He shrugged, hiding another triumphant grin, as they left the room.
Jarod opened the door as he heard the quiet knock, looking approvingly at the wooden object as he let Henry into the apartment.
"Want me to show you how it works,” his friend teased. “Or can you guess?"
"Hey, come on." Jarod tried to hide a smile. "I'm a doctor, remember?"
"So you say."
For a moment, Jarod hesitated before finally meeting the eye of the other man, recognizing a familiar expression on his face. Suddenly, despite the tension he felt, the man grinned.
"Okay, he told you about me, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did, Mr. Pretender, sir." The man glanced into the bedroom. "And he told me about Sydney, too."
"Fine. I'd just be a lot happier if you'd keep it to yourself."
"Don't worry, Jarod." Henry spoke seriously. "Your secret's safe with me, I promise."
"Thanks." He looked down at the object in front of him. "Give me a hand putting it into place?"
"Sure thing."
The two men walked into the room and Jarod moved some of the equipment out of the way as Henry looked around. "You're really set up here, aren't you?"
"Unfortunately, it's necessary."
He slipped an arm under the mattress, raising it slightly so Henry could slide the flat object in to place.
"Either we did that really smoothly," Henry began as he looked down at the man on the bed, who hadn’t moved. "Or..."
"Yes, I gave him something to make him sleep. Now, are you going to show me the way this invention of yours works, or not?"
Henry rolled his eyes. "Some genius."
Jarod raised the head of the bed to an angle of almost thirty degrees, glancing over in time to see Henry quietly lugging a camp bed into the room.
"What on earth...?"
"Well, where were you going to sleep tonight?"
"On the floor." Jarod shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time."
"And you'll end up just as sick as Sydney." Henry grinned at him. "Stop being a stubborn fool, like he told me you could be, and use it, will you?"
The Pretender tried to look indignant. "Stubborn, am I?"
"I'm not the only one who thinks so." Henry nodded towards the bed, where the sick man was watching them, a hint of a smile on his face. Jarod stepped over.
"Sydney, this is Henry, a friend of mine. He's helping me to take care of you."
"Hi, Sydney,” Henry smiled. “I've heard a lot about you."
The older man opened his mouth to respond, but Jarod placed a gentle hand on his arm. "No, Sydney. I don't want you to talk yet. Just try and rest."
As his patient nodded slightly, closing his eyes, Jarod helped Henry set up the bed. When it was finished, he glanced at his watch.
"Expecting someone?"
Jarod followed Henry out of the room, pulling the door almost shut before turning to his friend.
"Possibly. It depends."
"On?"
"On how quick they are today. But I'd guess..."
As Jarod turned to the kitchen, the knock on the door interrupted his sentence.
"It's open. Come in."
He turned to see two people in the doorway and leaned against the table, an annoyed look on his face.
"Put the damned gun away, Parker. I didn't make it easy for you both to find me, to disappear the moment you did. You won't need to point a weapon in my face to make me stay here this time."
"Old habits die hard," she admitted with a shrug.
"You haven't caught me often enough for it to be a habit yet." He tried to grin. "And if it's not too much trouble, could you shut the door? I am trying to keep this place warm."
Miss Parker returned the gun to her holster and stepped into the room as Broots closed the door.
"Who's that?"
She nodded at Henry, who turned to face the woman, eyes twinkling and a smile curling the corners of his mouth, making dimples appear in his cheeks. He remained silent while Jarod made the introduction.
"A friend of mine, Parker. And, possibly, yours too."
Henry held out one hand. "Miss Parker, it's good to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
The woman glanced at his face, but found her gaze locked into two eyes so familiar that her knees felt as if they were about to give.
Noticing, Jarod spoke in teasing tones. "Uh, Parker, can you avoid collapsing on the ground in front of me? I had enough of that when Sydney did it."
"Who...?"
"My name's Henry, Miss Parker,” the stranger explained. “I was Thomas' cousin."
Jarod stepped into the bedroom, followed by the technician, and both men stood silently in the doorway, watching the sick man as he slept.
"Is he going to...?"
"I don't know. I hope not." Jarod looked at the readout from the machine attached to Sydney's finger. "He seems a little better, though."
"What's that?"
"It's called a pulse oximeter. It shows me his heart rate and the levels of oxygen in his blood. That way, I can see if the treatments are effective, or if we have to try something else." Jarod turned and eyed the other man. "Where's Lyle?"
"California." Broots glanced at his watch. "Or he will be when the jet lands."
"So you...?"
Jarod grinned as the man nodded.
"Thanks."
"No problem, but I did it as much for us as you." Broots became serious. "You're not the only one who wants him better."
"I know." Jarod hesitated. "And if I can possibly do it, he'll get better. It'll take time, though. Is Debbie safe?"
"Yes."
"Good." Jarod looked at his watch and then ushered the man out of the room. "This sounds a little weird, but I'm glad you guys are here. I could use a hand."
"What do you need?"
"Food. We're all going to need to eat at some point and, with luck, Sydney will need a specific diet in a few days' time." Jarod glanced around before looking at Miss Parker, who was sitting on the sofa. "Where's Henry?"
"Next door." She looked up. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Pulling a chair out from under the table, Jarod straddled it and rested his chin on his arms as he looked at her. "I only met him just over a week ago, Parker. Trust me, I was going to make this place very obvious so you could meet him, but then all this happened."
"But... Tommy never..."
"Thomas thought Henry had died in an accident, several weeks before he met you. The letter Henry sent his cousin telling him about the mistake never arrived because he'd just moved to Blue Cove." Jarod's voice broke momentarily, but he continued. "To live with you."
"And… you...?"
"I read about Henry in the paper and came to help him with no idea of who he really is." Jarod reached into his jacket and pulled out the red notebook, giving it to Miss Parker.
"What was your pretend this time?" Broots leaned against the wall, looking at the other man, as he asked the question.
"By some twist of fate, doctor and research scientist, meaning that I had everything I needed when Sydney passed out on my doorstep."
Miss Parker got to her feet. "Can I see him?"
"Of course, if you keep your voice down. He was asleep a few minutes ago." He paused with one hand on the doorknob. "There's a fair bit of equipment attached to him, but it's all helping, Parker. Don't worry about it."
She nodded. "I know it sounds strange, but I do trust you."
Jarod grinned faintly. "Miracles will never cease."
She stood in the doorway, looking at the man lying in the bed, a oxygen mask on his face, his left arm lying on top of the blanket and the other under it, a tube fastened to a needle that was fixed to the back of his hand, and a plastic device clipped to one index finger. The machine on the bedside table gave out a continuous cloud of steam, and the air was moist as she inhaled, tasting drops of water in her mouth. She could hear a faint hiss that obviously came from the humidifier but there was another noise, a slight crackling, that she couldn't identify.
"What is that?" she demanded in an undertone.
"That noise?" Jarod looked serious. "It's Sydney trying to breathe. It started about three hours ago, soon after we sat him up. Actually, bad as it sounds, it's quite a good thing. It means the stuff that's making it hard for him to breathe is loosening and then he'll be able to cough it up."
Miss Parker looked down at the hand she could see on the bedspread. "So would I be right to guess that his nails and fingers are blue due to a lack of air?"
"Yes, you are." He nodded slowly. "Before I got the oxygen set up, his lips were that color as well, but they're gradually improving."
"And… why did he...?"
"Did he what? Collapse?"
She nodded silently.
"Lack of oxygen and a high fever. He's still got that and I don't expect it to go down for several days." He paused, eyeing her. "Parker, I think he'll have periods of delirium because of this. In fact, I'm surprised he's been as lucid as he has. But some of the things he might say could be painful, particularly if he sees you."
"You mean... because of Momma?"
Jarod nodded. "I'm not saying that I don't want you to see him at all, but I need to know if you can deal with it. If you think it'll be too hard then it might be best for you both if you stay away. I can take care of him on my own."
He leaned back against the door. "I don't want you to feel pressured into helping me with all this, Parker. Take some time and make a decision. It's your choice."
Miss Parker led the way to her car, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Henry, as the man walked beside her. Catching her glance, he grinned.
"Stop trying to look at me sideways, Miss Parker. It could be rather dangerous when you're driving."
"I... it's just..."
"I know." He became serious. "Believe me, I do understand."
"I'm sure you do." She half-smiled. "Were you two close?"
"Yes, we were. Our mothers were sisters and we used to see each other every Christmas." Henry’s face became sad. "It was just before Christmas, at about the time he was preparing to fly over and visit, that Thomas heard about the car accident."
"What happened?"
"My car was hit by another and went into a wall. I was in a coma for nearly two months but my other aunt - not Tom's mom. I think you know she’s dead, but their other sister - got the letter about the crash and assumed I'd died. She wrote to Thomas to tell him. Then she came over and found out that I was still alive, but it had been almost six weeks and she'd forgotten about ever writing to him. As soon as I came out of the coma, I sent a letter, telling him that it wasn't true, but it was returned with 'Not known here' on it. The moment they said I was well enough, I flew over here to try and find him." He paused and exhaled slowly. "I got here two weeks too late." He got into the passenger seat as Miss Parker got in behind the wheel. "Thomas wrote to me, first about Jarod and then about you."
"Why did he tell you...?" She hesitated.
"About you or about Jarod?" he finished for her.
"Jarod."
Henry smiled. "They worked together for a while, and, as he seems to have a habit of doing, Jarod gave my cousin a hand to bring down a competitor of his. As far I understand it all, they became very good friends. Then Jarod told Tom about you."
She looked through the windshield for a moment before glancing over at him. "I don't suppose you kept the letters?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I did."
"And could I...?"
"Don't you know it's a federal offence to read other people's mail, Miss Parker?"
She was about to snap out an answer when the woman saw the dimples that appeared in his cheeks as he tried to hide a smile and she smiled in response.
Broots glanced up as Jarod walked out of the bedroom.
"How's he doing?"
"Much the same."
The Pretender swallowed the hard sentence that had leapt to the tip of his tongue, but the technician looked at him closely and understood the expression in his eyes.
"You don't think he'll make it, do you?"
Jarod tried to smile. "How did you get to know me this well?" He hesitated, before responding honestly. "No, I don't. It's got such a firm grip on him..."
"But he still knows who you are."
"For the moment."
"And… will you tell Miss Parker?"
"Not yet. It's going to be bad enough, if...when..." He couldn't finish.
"What will you do, then? After?"
"Disappear." Jarod swallowed hard, looking up. "For good. No more hints, no more games, no more 'sightings'. The Centre will never find me again."
"And where will you go?"
"I should just tell you?" Jarod challenged.
"She'll want to know."
"I know she will. Maybe, one day..." He stopped again, staring down at the tabletop, and then looked up. "Have you heard anything?"
"No, nothing. Not since the last time, and I told you about that." Broots looked at the man for a moment. "Jarod, we'll find her."
"I'm glad you're so confident. I wish I was." Jarod stood and went to the window, staring out of it. After a pause he turned. "I notice that it didn't take you long to trace my call."
"Hey, I've had a lot of practice. I'm getting better."
Jarod grinned half-heartedly. "And setting the false trail?"
"About half an hour. It's pretty complicated. Lyle will have a heck of a time following it." Broots grinned wickedly. "Of course, that was the idea."
"And where will they end up?"
"You really want to know?"
Jarod put his back against the wall and looked hard at the man, before raising an eyebrow as the technician remained silent. "Okay, where is it, Broots? Where did you put the last tracking device?"
"Under his desk."
The other man choked. "No way."
"Why not? And the second last one is on his car, on the back of that magnificent personalized number-plate of his."
Jarod tried to grin. "If you're jealous, I could always make up one for you too."
