Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Microsoft Word

- Text Size +

Walk Beside Me; Be My Friend



“I’m never giving them both time off again.”

The words were snarled at the windshield, against which light flakes of snow were falling, and the tires crunched on the white-powdered ground beneath them. Miss Parker leaned forward, peering through the Perspex to the road ahead, wishing that she had obeyed her first instinct to ignore the sighting she had received and stayed back in her office. Of course, that hadn’t been particularly cheerful either. With Christmas only two days away, much of the Centre stood empty. Both Broots and Sydney had gone to spend time with their respective families. However, her own options in that respect were limited.

Lyle and Raines had gone away for what they called a ‘father and son bonding session,’ a term that made her feel nauseous. They had invited her along, but the thought of a week with the two of them was more than she could bear. The baby Bridget had given birth to had been farmed out to a foster family soon after his birth and she’d been unable, despite all Broots’ endeavors, to find where he was.

That meant she had been alone when the call of a sighting of Jarod had come in. She had briefly contemplated taking a sweeper along, but none of them was particularly stimulating in the brains or conversation department, making her prefer her own thoughts. She reached out to turn on the radio, hearing the static and crackling that signified the mountains around the road were blocking the radio signal. She peered through the partly fogged windows, releasing the pressure on the accelerator as she saw the road winding ahead.

Slowly the snow began to pile up and the engine protested more and more loudly at being forced to cross it. Gradually, the speed decreased until the car was moving at a slow crawl, at which the occupant swore loudly, pulled it over to the side and turned off the ignition.

“This’d better be worth it,” she growled, pulling on a jacket that lay over the passenger seat and picking up the rucksack containing objects that the caller had suggested would be necessary in that sort of terrain and climate. After a second of thought, she added a bag that lay on the floor of the car and contained snacks with which she had stocked up when she had seen where she was headed.

Dropping her hat onto her head, she checked that she had her gun and her cell phone before she shouldered the rucksack and shut the car door, locking the vehicle. Lowering her head against the wind, she cast a baleful glare back at the vehicle and then began to trudge along the trail.

~~~~~~


Over an hour later, she struggled out of the third snowdrift, thinking that even a so-called ‘Devil’s Storm’ had nothing on American weather when it put its mind to it. Shaking the snow from her hat, she yanked the delicately knitted beret down over her ears and rubbed at the tip of her nose with a gloved hand to get feeling back into it.

“You’d better be there, after all this, Jarod,” she growled to herself.

Ahead, through the lazily falling flakes, she thought she saw a faint glow. The sight of it gave her a burst of energy and she stepped forward with renewed vigor, suddenly finding the dark shape of a building loom up out of the half-darkness. One window glowed, the light flickering as a gust of wind howled around her, and she thankfully made her way along to the door. For a moment, she paused on the veranda, appreciative of the respite from the weather, while she put down the rucksack and flexed her fingers, finally drawing her gun.

With her left hand, she reached out for the handle, expecting the door to be locked and surprised when it opened to her touch. The large main room was warm, and her eyes roved around the sparse furniture, seeing at once that it was uninhabited. The door to the bathroom stood wide and there was nowhere for anybody to hide. Her eyes narrowing, Parker pushed the door completely open; the dull thud as it hit the wall told her that he wasn’t hiding there.

And yet the fire gave the impression of having been only recently lit. The wood was only slightly burnt and the smoke was fine, suggesting great heat, instead of puffy, as it would have been as the fire was dying down. Stepping inside, she saw that the interior was very Spartan, the intention obviously to rough it. Only a large easy-chair showed any sign of comfort, tucked away in the far corner of the room, close to the fireplace, next to a half-drum almost full of chopped wood.

The small kitchenette in the corner gave the impression of having been recently used. Dishes were stacked in the sink, and a pot stood on the stove. Carefully applying the back of her hand to it, Parker found that the metal was still warm and she turned to examine the contents of the room even more closely. A familiar black jacket hung on the hook behind the door and she went over to it, sliding her hands into the pockets and finding a PEZ dispenser. As, with a shake of her head, she replaced it, a strip of colored fabric slid to the floor at her feet. Picking it up, she found her hand holding a thick scarf and hurriedly replaced the gun in her holster.

Tightening her own scarf around her neck and picking up a flashlight from the window ledge, she checked that it worked before opening the door of the cabin. She knew he would be somewhere near the shack, and the case that caught her eye as she was about to leave confirmed it. He was unlikely to leave his computer and DSA player behind if he wasn’t coming back. Nor would he go without his jacket, even if he had heard her coming and run outside to get away from her. That probably meant he was in trouble.

“Jarod!”

Her voice didn’t carry far on the air, howled down by the wind that whistled around her, pulling at her hair and jacket. Taking a step, she could barely hear her feet crunching on the snow that had fallen onto the veranda, blown there by the force of the wind. Her eyes and the thin beam of light swept the ground around the building, but nothing showed either the way he had gone or any indication that he might be in the open. An axe had been driven firmly into a large log and a small pile of stacked logs stood nearby, within only a few paces of the cabin.

Parker hypothesized that he had gone out to cut the last of the wood and then the weather had quickly worsened. Her eyes traveled along the path he would have taken back to the house and, for the first time, examined the veranda itself.

A piece of wood lay almost beside her feet and she suddenly realized that what she had taken for a dark shadow thrown by the dimming light was more substantial.

In a second, she was on her knees beside him, rolling him over and looking down into his white face, eyes closed and a large, red mark on his forehead. Shaking him, she repeatedly called his name, slapping the sides of his face, but with no response. Tearing off her glove, she placed two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse, but even as she leaned over to feel for respiration, she noticed, for the first time, the coldness of his skin.

Recoiling in horror, she stared down at him for a second before standing and getting a firm hold on the shoulders of the black t-shirt he wore. It took all her strength, but she finally managed to drag him into the cabin, slamming the door shut after them. Kneeling beside him again, she tried to find a pulse but could feel nothing. Desperately she moved them around the skin on his neck, also trying his wrist, before, after almost 30 seconds, feeling a faint flutter under her fingertips. It was slow, almost painfully so. In fact, as she counted individual beats, she half-expected each to be the last she felt. His chest, too, rose and fell only at slow intervals.

But at least he was alive.

Her first instinct was to rub warmth back into his ice-cold skin, but something screamed out to her not to, a long-forgotten memory of a first-aid course that she had tolerated before completing her college degree. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her cell phone and, with a feeling of urgency, punched in the number.

“This is Sydney.”

“Hypothermia,” she snapped abruptly. “Diagnosis and treatment, Syd, quick.”

“In the most severe case, pulse and respiration would be slow, if present at all,” came the reply in a tone that acted to calm the first feelings of panic she had begun to have. “Otherwise, the patient will be confused…”

“Try unconscious,” she shot back. “What else?”

“The pupils will be dilated -- enlarged,” he simplified.

The woman dropped to her knees at Jarod's head and pushed up his left eyelid, drawing in her breath sharply at the wide, black disk, which seemed to block out all the color of the iris.

“And the muscles will be very rigid,” the psychiatrist finished.

“That’s it,” she responded sharply. “Now what?”

“Call an ambulance,” came the prompt answer. “Otherwise you’ll have a dead patient.”

Miss Parker looked out of the window, seeing that the snow had increased and that visibility was almost none.

“I can’t,” she choked out as the panic rose in her again. “They couldn’t get here.”

“Then you’ll have to warm them slowly,” the voice on the other end stated calmly. “If you can do it, heat blankets and wrap them around the patient. Skin to skin warming is best. Don’t use artificial heating devices or radiators. That will be too quick and you’ll burn the skin.”

Dragging the jacket off the hook, the woman wrapped it around the unconscious man’s body.

“If they were outside in extreme weather, check for frostbite, too,” Sydney continued. “The skin will be white and feel frozen to the touch, extremities particularly -- fingers, toes, lips, nose. The only way to treat that is in warm, running water. 104 to 108 degrees. Make sure you don’t run the risk of the freeze-thaw-freeze series, otherwise you might further damage the affected areas. Can you find a thermometer, Parker?”

“I don’t know,” she rapped out frantically. “I’ve got no idea what’s here.”

“Calm down,” the psychiatrist stated firmly. “You can’t help them if you panic. The first step is the blankets. Strip off any wet clothes. Leave dry things on. Cover the top of the head -- a lot of heat escapes from there -- and also loosely cover the mouth and nose, using a scarf or something that will let air in and out. Get them onto a surface that won’t absorb heat; rocks or snow are bad. Try not to vigorously move them -- slow and steady.”

“And then check for frostbite and other things?”

“Exactly. And don’t treat the frostbite until the body is almost back to normal temperature. When you get to that stage, if you can’t find a thermometer, stick your elbow into the water you plan to use. If it’s too hot for you to stand, it’s too hot to use as a treatment for frostbite. But also keep checking pulse and respiration. Don’t worry how slow it is. Don’t even worry if it stops, unless the body temperature is normal, or close to it. The core body temperature will go down a little before it starts to go back up and the heart might be on the verge stopping right now. Can you do CPR?”

“Yes,” she responded in relief, dragging a blanket off the bed with her other hand and draping it over the chair to heat.

“Once they start warming up, they’ll begin to shiver, and probably also be unable think properly, maybe even with slight amnesia. As they get back to normal body temperature, that will fade. Clear?”


“Crystal. I’ll call you if I need more help.”

“Good luck, Parker.”

She heard the words as she disconnected the call and almost threw the phone away from her, on to the rucksack she had already dropped on the floor. Running her hands over the black t-shirt he wore, she found that it was dry, however his black jeans were soaking. Yanking off his shoes, she undid the button fly and pulled the jeans down, throwing them away from her.

Looking frantically around the interior, her eyes fell on a bundle tucked away in the corner, going over to find that it was a pile of cushions, on top of several blankets. Picking up the bundle, she carried it over to the fireplace and spread out the cushions, finding that an air mattress was folded underneath, and placed that on top, before returning to Jarod's side. Pulling off her beret, she placed it over his head, placing the matching loose-knit scarf over his mouth and nose, and then slid her hands under his shoulders. Able to get a hold under his arms, the woman managed to drag him to the makeshift bed, thankful that the cabin wasn’t bigger. His head slumped against her chest, still terrifyingly free of color.

Picking up the blankets, she draped them over the wood-box and chair to heat in front of the fire before wrapping the already warm blanket around him and then examining his feet. They were cold, but didn’t feel frozen. That changed when she felt his hands.

The fingertips of his last two fingers on both hands were waxy to the touch, as well as both whiter and colder than those on the rest of his hand.

“Check pulse and respiration,” she reminded herself out loud, her voice acting as a calmative as she placed her fingers back where she had found the weak pulse before, eyeing her watch. After 40 of the longest seconds of her life, just as she was about to begin CPR, she finally felt a faint twitching under her fingers. The pulse was weaker than it had been when she had last timed it, only a few beats per minute, and she thought that his breathing was shallower.

“Come on, Jarod,” she muttered under her breath, wrapping another blanket around his chest and neck. “A genius doesn’t die of hypothermia.”

A faint memory of the first-aid lecture she had received on hypothermia came back to her, and she vaguely remembered that the body had to be moved relatively frequently. Rolling him gently and smoothly onto his side, facing away from the fire, she checked that his back was covered and piled the cushions behind him to prevent him rolling onto his front or back. After trying for several seconds to bend his knees, she gave up, not wanting to damage them further.

“Sorry if I’m doing this wrong,” she apologized to his unconscious form. “Sydney's the doctor; I’m not.”

~~~~~~


Checking her watch, she discovered that she had been in the cabin with him for almost two hours and, for the first time, began to consider what she was doing. Five years ago, the situation would have been out of the question, for either of them. She wouldn’t have cared enough to work out what he had been doing out in the snow, or where he might have been. There would have been a team of sweepers on her tail, dragging him back to the Centre, giving him the right treatment so that he would live, and could begin sims again as quickly as possible.

But what had changed?

Adding wood to the fire, she contemplated the question. She’d told him that nothing had changed -- but was that accurate? Almost everything around them had changed. So could they really have remained unchanged throughout that? Had she? Wasn’t she a different person from the woman she had been when she had received the first report about Jarod?

Pulling another blanket off the chair and removing one of the original ones to replace it with the hot one, she contemplated the question.

The new knowledge she had about her family -- her mother -- had been an important step. That had, of course, been provided by Jarod. She knelt by the makeshift bed, watching his chest rise and fall in slow irregular patterns. Her eyes traveled up to his face. His lips were still ash white, as were his cheeks, making his dark lashes and eyebrows seem to stand out almost startlingly. His hair hung limply out from under the blanket that covered his head and the beret beneath it. The long, damp strands reminded her of their time together on the island.

“You’re supposed to be running,” she murmured, reaching out to brush his lips with the tip of her finger. “I don’t remember catching being part of the equation.”

She could remember the desire in his eyes as he had leaned in towards her, brushed back her hair, looked deep into her eyes -- and she had seen the same innocent expression that she could remember from their childhood. Part of her had responded to him, and in that room, with the fire causing shadows to dance on the walls, she had let that part come to fore. Then, later, when it seemed like everything was back to the way it always had been, she had shut it off. When things had been different, that was when she had longed for some sense of sameness, and Jarod, in a strange way, had always represented that.

Leaning forward, she gently raised his eyelids, seeing that the pupils appeared less dilated than they had been when she had first checked. The room’s light was dim; the cabin had no electricity and the fire was the only source of illumination. She was so close to him, able to see that his lips were slightly parted, and she could feel the light, cold breath on her neck.

“You’re still alive,” she muttered softly, entranced by the look of innocence on his face. “Hang on, Jarod. Give me a chance. I’ll pull you through this, if it’s humanly possible, I swear.”

Suddenly, she was four years old again, sitting in her mother’s lap as Catherine read her favorite fairytale. It had always been Snow White. The picture of Snow White in the book had looked like her mother, and she had loved to imagine Catherine as a princess. But another part of the story was now foremost in her mind as she ran a finger along his jaw. Her thumb brushed against his chin and she leaned further forward, able to smell his scent as she came closer. Nervously biting her bottom lip for a moment, she tentatively moistened her top lip with her tongue before brushing his lips with hers.

Her hand moved until her palm covered his cheek, parting her lips slightly and applying just a little more pressure. Drawing back suddenly, she brought her other hand to her mouth, unable to deal with what she had just done. Then she looked up to meet his gaze.

~~~~~~


She sank into the armchair, fighting to keep her eyes open. The warmth of the cabin was inducive to sleep, as well as being only dimly lit by the fire, snow having covered the windows. The early morning hours were slowly dragging on, but Jarod didn’t seem all that much better. He had been conscious for a short time, but not lucid. His ranting had jumped from subject to subject and time to time, but Parker was thankful that he had not tried to get out of bed. She remembered Sydney's imperative that any motion be slow and steady, and feared that his movements might worsen whatever damage such motion could already have caused. She also privately doubted if she had enough strength to keep him warmly covered, especially as she, herself, was almost exhausted.

Her head nodded slowly forward and then jerked upright. She couldn’t sleep. If she let the warmth in the cabin reduce then she stood the risk of worsening his condition, or contracting hypothermia herself. Standing, she bent down beside the bed and saw, to her horror, that color had once again faded from his face. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, she replaced blankets with others that had been newly warmed, stepping back to try to work out what else she could do.

Frantically, as she checked his pulse, she thought through the conversation with Sydney, trying to remember what other tips he might have given her. She was about to call him again when a phrase slipped into her mind.

Skin to skin warming is best.

There wasn’t time to consider. For every second she hesitated, his body temperature would lower yet again. Checking that the fire would continue burning on its own for some time, she took off her clothing, leaving only her underwear, and then struggled in between the warm blankets.

His skin was still cold to touch and, although it made goose flesh rise on her arms, she pressed herself against it, lying across his chest but making sure that most of her weight was taken by the arm and leg that still lay on the cushions, not wanting to limit his breathing further. Pressing her head up under his chin, she also kept her fingers on his neck to check his pulse.

His muscles were still somewhat stiff, but more relaxed than they had been. In her mind, she tried to recall a chart of the human body, suddenly remembering that the heart was on the left side and delicately moving across, hoping the warmth of her body might keep it going. But that meant she couldn’t keep an eye on her watch and so had no idea of the time.

Shrugging mentally, she readied herself for a long wait. A sudden noise drew her eyes to the cell phone lying on the rucksack, hearing it beep and seeing the screen light up for a moment before it went dark. Cursing silently, she knew there was nothing she could do. Clearly, the battery was now dead. She guessed Jarod would have one somewhere, but she had no idea of the password and would be unable to use it until he was lucid enough to tell her. Judging by his condition, that was still some way off. And that meant they were on their own. No help, no ambulance when it was light. She would have to take care of him herself, hoping that soon he would wake up so he could advise her.

~~~~~~


His eyes stared at the ceiling, blinking occasionally, but as she raised herself on one arm to look down into his face, they slowly swiveled around to her. However there was a terrifying blankness in them that suggested he had no idea who she was.

“It’s all right, Jarod,” she urged softly, feeling that the hair she brushed back from his face was now dry and wispy.

His mouth moved but no sound came out, and she placed a finger across his lips.

“Shh,” she scolded gently. “No talking, Jarod. Just try to relax. Don’t waste your energy.”

His eyes closed at once, but she saw his Adam’s Apple move as he swallowed and took it as an improvement. Feeling him relax, she took a firm hold of his shoulder and rolled him over in her direction, wrapping an arm around his back to hold him up. His eyes opened briefly, but they closed again immediately, his head slumping down. Fearing this would cause his throat to block, she lifted her left arm, going numb after so long of being lain on, and slipped it under his head.

Pulling a cushion up to tuck in closer to his back, she pulled the blanket around his head closer, brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek, pleased that his skin felt warmer to the touch. For a moment, as she watched his breathing slowly becoming deeper and more regular, Parker considered how this would look to anyone walking in. She imagined the expression on Sydney's face and smiled. When her mind shifted to how Broots would have viewed the situation, she was forced to choke down her giggles, suddenly thankful that she had given them both time off over Christmas.

~~~~~~


His body jerked once and then he suddenly and violently began to shiver, slumping back against the cushion behind him. Parker raised herself, the blankets pulling her almost on top of him, and looked down to see his eyes open, fixing on her immediately, recognition taking a few seconds.

“C-c-c-c-cold,” he protested through vigorously chattering teeth. His right arm wrapped around his chest, but his left arm only succeeded in tightening around her body.

“I know,” she soothed. Disentangling herself from his hold and the blankets, she got out of the bed and rewrapped the covers firmly around him, watching his eyes travel up and down her scantily clad figure, and grinned in his direction. “What are you looking at, genius?”

Smiling faintly, he wrapped both arms around himself and clumsily rolled onto his left side, facing the room. After doing up her shirt and yanking on her jacket, she tucked a cushion under his head and wrapped another warm blanket around him. Pulling on her pants, she went over to the small kitchenette and filled the kettle, placing it on the stove. Returning to the bedside, she found him watching her out of wide eyes.

“W-w-w-w-what ha-ha-happ…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted, checking that he still had cushions piled up at his back. “I’ll tell you later.” She added more wood to the fire. “Promise.”

He shot her a look that she interpreted as a question of whether he could trust her and she fought hard not to grin. The kettle boiled and she went over to the stove, turning off the gas and pouring the water into two mugs. To one Parker added coffee; to the other, acting on instinct, she added a few heaped teaspoons of sugar, stirring it vigorously before adding cooler water until it was warm. Sipping a few mouthfuls of the coffee, feeling it warm her through, she then got a tablespoon out of the drawer, going back to the bed.

“Want some?” she asked, showing him the contents of the mug and watching him nod slowly.

“S-s-s-s-small s-s-s-s-spoon,” he stammered, eyeing the metal object in her hand. “E-e-e-easier.”

Nodding, she put the tablespoon onto the floor and fished the teaspoon out of the mug, holding the warm metal against his mouth for a second and seeing him lick the lips that had slightly more color in them. He smiled again, faintly, at the taste, before slowly opening his mouth for the liquid to be spooned in.

When the mug was half-empty, he closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“T-t-t-too m-much, s-s-s-sick,” he told her succinctly.

Nodding, she stood up and went over to swallow her coffee in several large gulps, placing the empty mug onto the counter. Her stomach growled and she looked around the kitchen, opening the cupboard doors and swearing silently when she found that they were empty.

“L-l-l-l-leaving t-t-t-today,” a halting voice told her from the other side of the room. “N-n-none left.”

Rolling her eyes, she snorted and turned her back on him, refilling the kettle and turning it on yet again. Suddenly, and for the first time, she remembered the rucksack she had brought with her. Hurrying over to it, she carried it to the fireplace and emptied the contents onto the rug in front of the flickering light.

Eagerly she pounced on the bag of snacks she had purchased during the drive, looking through it and finding a bar of chocolate. Tearing it open, she stuck a piece in her mouth, sucking it lovingly, before breaking off another small piece and approaching the bed, slipping it between Jarod's lips.

Returning to the bag, she found the flashlight and extra battery that her informant had suggested she bring, as well as a map and compass. These she seized eagerly, knowing that they would enable them to provide an accurate description of where they were to the emergency services. The last object, however, brought a yelp of triumph from her as she turned with a survival blanket in her hand.

The shivering was less obvious, color slowly beginning to come back into Jarod’s face, as Parker finished wrapping the survival blanket around him, and then he began to clench his right hand.

“Don’t!” she yelped, reaching forward to stop him.

“It h-hurts,” he protested.

“Of course it hurts,” she snapped. “You’ve got frostbite. That’s what happens when you decide to lay down on the veranda for a nap during the beginning of a blizzard.”

Ignoring the expression of disbelief on Jarod's face, she went over to the kitchenette and began to boil the kettle once more. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that his eyes had closed.

“Warm, running water,” she murmured to herself. “Where in God’s name…?”

A cupboard under the sink caught her eye and she yanked open the doors, her eyes scanning the contents and finally lighting on a white box. Tearing off the lid, she emptied the contents out onto the bench, thankfully catching up a long, thin object as it began to roll away. The kettle began to boil at this point and she poured some of the hot water into the bowl, gradually adding cold until it was the right temperature.

She noticed a glass and shrugged mentally, opening drawers until she found a spoon. It would have to do. Carrying the bowl and kettle over to the bed, she sat down on the floor, placing the bowl onto the cushions and the kettle down beside her. As she eased his hand out from under the blankets, his eyes opened, and he watched as the white fingers were lowered into the water. Using the glass, she scooped up water and poured it back into the bowl, using her other hand to stir it with the spoon.

“Can you feel it?” she asked.

“Sort of,” he admitted slowly, trying not to shiver. “Not the last two fingers. The others yes. But it’s not very warm water.”

“It’s 106 degrees,” she replied. “I guess you don’t have feeling back in your fingers fully yet.”

Jarod eyed her thoughtfully, shifting slightly so that the survival blanket crackled, and permitting himself another shiver. “How did you find me?” he asked finally.

“There was a call to the Centre,” she responded, without looking at him. “I’d given Broots and Syd a few days off for Christmas, so I came on my own.”

“And when do the sweepers arrive?” he prompted grimly.

“They don’t.” Parker shook back the hair from her face and met his gaze steadily. “Nobody knows I’m here -- or that you are.”

He raised an eyebrow as the woman checked the thermometer and added a small amount of the hot water to the bowl. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I just couldn’t do it before -- and now my cell phone is out of power, so I couldn’t call them even if I wanted to.”

The man examined her narrowly before inhaling sharply. She looked up at the sound, seeing that his jaw was set and his eyes were closed.

“What is it?”

“Blood flowing into the hand,” he muttered, the muscles tensing in the hand she held. “Burning.”

She lifted it up out of the water, but he forced it back down quickly.

“It’s the only way,” he ground out, closing his eyes briefly, before looking at her again. “Was there any aspirin or Ibuprofen in that kit?”

“I’ll see.” She stabilized the bowl. “Don’t move.”

Objects still littered the bench and she swept them together, picking up a number of boxes and eventually locating what she wanted. Finding that they were soluble, she filled a glass and let the tablets dissolve while she packing the objects back into the first-aid kit.

“I don’t think -- it’s serious,” the voice from the bed stated slowly. “Only the fingertips. From what I read -- that’s usually -- trivial.”

“Fortunately for you,” she told him, stirring the last of the aspirin so it dissolved. “We could be a while getting out of here.”

“How -- oh, the blizzard,” he corrected. “I’d be surprised, but --“ Jarod inhaled sharply again as he tried to flex his fingers in the water, “-- I guess it’s possible.”

“Been studying the weather patterns, Pretender?” she teased, adding a small amount of hot water to the glass before returning to the bed.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted, after swallowing the first few spoonfuls of the aspirin. “I wanted to get away for a bit, so I was doing a stint as a meteorologist a couple of miles away. I came here for a few days to relax.” Despite the breaks in his voice from the pain, he was still understandable, and Parker nodded.

“Some relaxation,” she remarked, spooning the last of the liquid into his mouth. “It came close to being eternal.”

He nodded, the expression in his eyes suddenly serious, as she removed his hand from the water and placed it on a towel she had found. “They should be bandaged,” he directed. “Each finger on its own, in gauze if there’s any in the kit.”

Adding more hot to the water until it was the correct temperature, she placed it on his other side so that he could rest his fingers in the bowl, constantly moving his hand to try and stop the water from cooling too quickly, as she supported his elbow with several cushions so that he didn’t tip it over. Going through the case, she found several rolls of gauze bandage and returned with them, obeying the somewhat breathless orders given by the patient, until his right hand was covered and she could slide it back underneath the covers.

“What -- time is it?” he finally demanded, the pain obvious in his eyes.

“Almost five,” she informed him after checking her watch. Turning to the window, she picked up the towel from the bed and wiped the glass with it, able to see that only a light covering of snow lay on it. “Maybe you were right. It might not be that bad.”

“If you called them now,” Jarod suggested in tense tones, “they could be here at first light.”

Picking up the map from where it lay on the rug in front of the fire, she carried it over to the bed, sitting down beside it and extracting a notepad from her pocket. Her eye was caught by Jarod's left hand and she bandaged it first before noting down the co-ordinates where the cabin in which they were could be found.

“They’ll ask -- why they’re being called,” Jarod raspped, the pain less evident in his face, but still obvious in his tones. “You’ll have to tell them what you thought -- and how I was.”

“Where’s your cell phone?”

He nodded in the direction of his coat and she went over to it, going through the pockets until she located it and then using the code Jarod provided to activate it.

~~~~~~


“The snow should be clear enough for them to be here in an hour,” she reported, after finishing the call, going over to toss the last of the small logs from the half-drum onto the fire, feeling her own skin crawl slightly at the significant drop in the room’s temperature.

There was silence from the other occupant of the cabin and the woman looked over her shoulder sharply to see him lying with his eyes closed. Hurrying over, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling that the skin was still cool to her touch. He opened drowsy eyes, looking up at her silently, but with pain still evident in the small lines near his mouth.

Hesitating for a moment, she brushed the hair off his face, removing her beret with her free hand and stuffing it in her pocket. His eyes vaguely followed the action of her hands, and she leaned forward.

“Jarod, are you okay?”

His eyes rolled up to her face, but there was no acknowledgement that he had heard. When he gave a slight shiver, she slid a hand in under the blankets and felt that they were not as warm as they had been, taking off one that lay over him and draping it yet again over the chair, wrapping the survival blanket more firmly around him. Sliding a finger gently down the front of his neck, she saw him swallow and hurried over to the kitchen to reheat the kettle, keeping an eye on her watch and hoping that the emergency team hurried. A recurrence of the hypothermia could only be bad, particularly for his frostbitten fingers.

Once the sweetened water was prepared, she slowly spooned it into his mouth, making sure he swallowed it before giving the next spoonful. It seemed to take a long time to empty the mug, and then she picked up the tablespoon that still lay on the floor, slipping it into the mug and putting it on the chair before picking up the blanket from the chair and swapping it for another, spreading out the second to warm.

“Come on, Jarod,” she murmured, carrying the mug to the sink and pouring more hot water from the kettle into it. “Don’t give up on me now.”

His eyes were open when she returned to his side, and there was a flicker in them that suggested recognition as they fixed on her. Kneeling beside the bed, she touched the back of her hand to his cheek, seeing his eyes close and feeling a faint pressure as he turned his head slightly in that direction. She couldn’t keep a smile from her face, knowing that her presence was a comfort to him.

Settling down for a long wait, she let her mind wander, imagining the scenario if she had chosen to ignore the sighting and stayed in her office. It could have been days or even weeks before she bothered to send a team up to the cabin, and by then, without doubt, he would have been dead. Parker couldn’t hold back a shudder at the thought, not just of what Raines and the Triumvirate would have said, but her own feelings, and Sydney's, at such an occurrence.

~~~~~~


There was a quiet knock on the door and Parker, who had just placed a warm blanket over Jarod, crossed the room in two hurried strides to open it. A group of men stood outside, with a stretcher and numerous bags. She stood aside to let them in, seeing three go immediately to the bedside while the fourth drew her aside to get the details of what had occurred.

Stabilizing Jarod, preliminary to moving him onto the stretcher, took longer than providing what she knew of his medical history, so she had plenty of time to look through the various cupboards and niches, finding his belongings and packing them into her rucksack so she could carry them to her car.

“You’ve done a great job, Miss Parker,” one of the men commended as she extinguished the fire. “If it wasn’t for you, his chances would be pretty slim.”

“What are they like now?” she demanded.

“Well, we want to get him to hospital as soon as possible so they can monitor him for a couple of days, but I’d certainly expect him to pull through.” The man scribbled a name and address onto a slip of paper and handed it to her. “This is the hospital we’ll be taking him to, as you said that you wanted to follow in your car. We’ll fly him in as soon as we get down to where your car’s parked. There’s a clear area close by there for use by a nearby meteorological bureau. Oh, and we had that part of the road and the area around your car cleared, so you’ll have no problem getting out.”

“Thank you.”

She slipped the paper into her pocket and watched as the stretcher was maneuvered out of the cabin, following them into the half-light of early morning and firmly shutting the door.

~~~~~~


Sydney was already waiting in the car park when she pulled into it and walked towards her as she got out of the car.

“What’s going on, Parker?”

“Sorry to drag you away from your breakfast, Syd.” She shut and locked the car, walking around to the trunk and getting out the bags that she had offered to take with her instead of leaving for the rescue workers. “But this is important.”

He took one of the bags and walked with her into the large hospital building. “How did you get on with the hypothermia?”

“That’s what I wanted to show you.”

As they entered the building, one of the EMTs approached her, a relieved expression on his face. “Miss Parker, we were just starting to think you were stuck in a drift somewhere.”

“If I’d had a helicopter, I would have been quick too,” she shot back. “Where is he?”

“Intensive Care.” The man waved in the direction of the sign, going with the two Centre operatives in through the large doors and down a long corridor. “Dr. Dearborn is expecting you.”

They passed a number of rooms, their occupants hidden by angled Venetian blinds, until the man stopped outside one.

“If you’ll wait here,” he directed, “I’ll let the doctor know you’ve arrived.”

As soon as he disappeared into the room, Sydney's hand closed around Parker’s upper arm in a crushing grip, his expression tense.

“Is it Jarod?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I didn’t want to worry you before, which is why I didn’t say anything.”

He nodded slowly, relaxing his hold as his lips thinned and he turned away.

“I know what you mean to each other,” she remarked quietly. “You both try to hide it, but neither of you succeed. That’s why I called you.”

At this point, the door opened and a middle-aged woman came out, strands of silver apparent in her deep red hair, dressed in an immaculately white coat, a stethoscope around her neck.

“Miss Parker?” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Doctor Rose Dearborn. I’m glad you got here.”

The brunette firmly returned the handshake before indicating her companion. “This is Dr. Sydney Carr. He was Jarod's guardian.”

“Good.” Dr. Dearborn looked relieved. “Then you can give me an idea of Jarod's medical history. We didn’t want to administer too many drugs in case of any allergies, and he hasn’t been able to tell us much.”

“How is he?” Sydney demanded, the anxiety obvious in his voice.

“Stable,” the doctor reassured him. “His temperature is almost normal and we’ve had a chance to treat the frostbite on his fingers as well.” She nodded at Miss Parker. “You did well with that. I’d expect it to heal within a week or so, and leave no permanent signs. Right now, we’ve got him on mild sedation for the pain, and we’ll keep him in Intensive Care for the next 24 to 48 hours. At the end of that time, we’ll reassess his condition and hopefully move him up to the wards.”

She indicated the door with a wave of her hand.

“Miss Parker, if you’d like to go in, I’ll get the details I want from Dr. Carr.”

Nodding, Parker turned to the door, pushing it open and hearing the beep and sigh of machines as she entered. Turning to the bed, she could count eight tubes that ran from various pieces of equipment into his body or disappeared under the sheets. Jarod lay with his eyes closed, more color in his face than there had been for the entire time in the cabin, and the lines around his lips had smoothed out. His body was wrapped in a silver blanket, and Parker could see the survival blanket she had initially used folded on a chair. A dark bruise covered part of his forehead. The room itself was comfortably warm.

As the door clicked shut behind her, his eyes opened and turned in her direction, a faint smile on his face.

“Hi,” he greeted her, his voice raspy.

She stepped over to the bedside, feeling suddenly awkward. The urgency that had spurred her to action had vanished, and she could recognize the feelings as being almost the same as they had been in the car, after their time on the island. Jarod seemed to understand, because he made no attempt to force her attention, keeping his hands on the bed, only watching her, his eyes glittering darkly.

“Are you okay?” she asked finally.

“I will be,” he responded. “Give me a week or two and you’ll be able to get the sweepers out.”

Parker felt her throat tighten slightly at the implied accusation and frantically sought for a way to change the subject.

“Sydney's here,” she told him eventually, seeing him tense immediately and hearing the beeping of the heart rate monitor increase. “I called him when I first found you,” she continued hurriedly. “I thought he might have guessed that I was talking about you -- though I never told him it was you -- and been worried.”

Nodding slightly, Jarod closed his eyes, turning his head to face the ceiling with a sigh.

“I just thought he would want to know,” she began hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he growled, not opening his eyes. “It won’t make any difference.”

Before she could contradict his statement, the door opened and the psychiatrist entered. His face still bore a strained expression and his eyes flew to the bed, intently examining Jarod's features. The woman retreated to the corner, sitting down on the chair that stood there for that purpose and putting the bag she carried onto the floor at her feet.

Sydney stepped over to the bedside, gently placing his hand over the pale one that lay on top of the sheets, with care for the IV tube fixed into the back of it and the bandages on his fingers. His eyes traveled quickly to the heart rate monitor and then back to the pale face in front of him.

“Jarod?”

The Pretender’s eyes slowly opened, but the words he was about to say died before they could be uttered as he saw the anxiety on the older man’s face. His expression of forced bravado faded and his fingers tightened slightly around those of the psychiatrist. Parker watched this scene for a moment before rising to her feet and stealing out of the room.

~~~~~~


The phone was ringing as she stepped out of the shower and Parker wrapped the towel around herself before going to answer it.

“What?”

“It’s me,” Sydney's voice told her. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m looking forward to bed,” she responded. “But otherwise, yes. How’s Jarod?”

“Improving, slowly,” the psychiatrist responded. “Dr. Dearborn is planning to move him out of the ICU in the morning.”

“Good.” The woman twisted the phone cord around her finger, gazing thoughtfully out the window to where the sun was sinking toward the horizon. “I’ve extended your vacation for a few days and given Broots time off until after New Year’s. I’m going to send a team along to the cabin tomorrow and then, when they come back empty, I’ll take a few days off myself.”

“Thank you,” he responded warmly. “I appreciate that. Were you coming in to see him again?”

The feeling of awkwardness swelled in her again. “No, I don’t think so.”

There was a brief pause before she hurried to justify her remark.

“I wouldn’t want to draw the Centre’s attention there. Lyle’s paying too much attention to me right now.”

“Both Lyle and Raines are also on vacation,” Sydney reminded her. “It’s Christmas Day tomorrow, Parker, don’t forget.”

“Another day when the stores are closed,” she growled, trying to force her usual surliness into her voice but finding it unaccountably difficult.

“I suppose it could be viewed in that way,” the man agreed quietly. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

The dial tone beeped in her ear and she replaced the handset on the cradle before realizing that she was shivering and still wet. Returning to the bathroom, she dried quickly and then donned her pajamas before going down to the kitchen, heating up a can of soup and pouring it into a mug. In the living room, she settled down on the sofa and flicked on the television, but her thoughts were constantly distracted by the events of the past 24 hours.

During those long, silent hours in the cabin, she had admitted to herself that she had been wrong. She hadn’t remained unchanged by the previous five years. She wasn’t the same woman who had been put on to head the pursuit team. She had to keep up the front at work, but it became more difficult every week. Sydney, she knew, already saw through the front; Lyle had come into her life later, when she had already begun to change, and knew her less well; Raines had never known much about her in the first place. In fact, it seemed that her greatest threat had been removed when the man she had recognized for so long as her father jumped out of that plane. Until now, she had seen that event only as a tragedy, but suddenly there seemed to be a benefit to it as well.

At this point, she found her thoughts growing hazy and put the mug on the coffee table, switching off the TV and lying down on the sofa with a cushion under her head, staring into the embers of the fire she had lit before going up for her shower.

~~~~~~


The fire still glowed dimly red, but the room was darker as she opened her eyes, looking out of the window to find that the sky was black, dotted with stars. A silhouette was visible on the far side of the room and she sat up suddenly, finding that she had been covered with a warm blanket from the closet. The intruder walked over to stir the fire and, in the increased light, she could make out the white hair and familiar form, sitting back against the sofa with a relieved sigh.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that breaking and entering is illegal?” she growled.

Sydney smiled as he sat in an armchair. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that lying is wrong?”

Parker narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you were okay. I dispute it.”

She wrapped the blanket closer around her shoulders, deciding to change the subject instead of arguing. “I thought you would have stayed at the hospital.”

“Jarod suggested I didn’t, in case anyone got suspicious.” He meaningfully arched an eyebrow at her. “He also asked me to check on you.”

Ignoring this, the woman turned her gaze to the fireplace. After several moments of silence, the man rose.

“I should go,” he told her. “I only came to see how you were, and I told Jarod I’d come back to the hospital in the morning.”

She was about to stand, but he placed an arm on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I can let myself out.”

Nodding, she watched him leave the house and, several minutes later, heard a car door slam, before turning her eyes back to the fire, unable to sort out the confusion of thoughts in her head.

~~~~~~


The hospital was only two hours from Blue Cove, a fact that would have caused her considerable concern at any other time, but the small number of staff still on duty over the Christmas vacation meant that she was fairly certain nobody would find out. Pulling out of the Centre parking lot, she turned in the opposite direction from her home without thinking, suddenly finding herself driving onto the freeway that led to the small city.

For a long time, she wrestled with herself, but finally decided to go ahead. The turn-off seemed to come surprisingly quickly, and she could see the tall building looming ahead. A sudden beep made her look down to see that her car’s fuel tank was almost empty, so she pulled into the first gas station she saw, filling up and then going in to pay for the gas.

The range of candy on the counter caught her eye, as well as a rack of PEZ dispensers, and on the spur of the moment she purchased a small selection, returning to the car with the bag and continuing her drive.

At the reception desk, she was directed to the room to which Jarod had been transferred earlier that day. With the candy stashed inside her bag, she made her way along the hall, unable to help thinking that the hospital resembled the one in which Jarod had performed one of his very earliest pretends after his escape, more than five years earlier.

His head turned as she appeared in the doorway and his face broke into a hesitant smile, brown eyes quickly searching the hallway behind her before refocusing on her face.

“Come on in,” he suggested, his voice still slightly scratchy.

She obeyed the suggestion, glancing around before half-closing the door. “Where’s Sydney?”

“He went down to have something for dinner, after I’d pretended to be asleep for more than half an hour,” Jarod responded with a grin. “I’ve never known him to be so protective before.”

“You’ve never nearly died before, as far as he knows,” she added without thinking, sitting down in the chair beside the bed.

The man reached out and took her hand, holding it firmly in his as he met her gaze. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for that.”

Parker lifted an eyebrow, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers around hers, as her eyes slid away, feeling uncomfortable. “Does everything have to be a competition with you?”

“It’s the way I was trained,” he replied with a shrug. “Blame Sydney.”

“I’d give him credit first,” she retorted. “If it wasn’t for him, I probably would have done something wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

His gaze flickered quickly around the walls before coming back to her face, but she believed that she could guess the cause.

“Feeling a little claustrophobic?”

“You have no idea,” he told her seriously. “Last night, after Sydney left, I was all ready to sign out of here and disappear.”

“You don’t trust us?” the woman asked.

“It’s not that.” He dismissed her idea with a wave of his other hand. “I’ve just had too many years of being within four walls. And I did try to leave, but when I couldn’t get up, I figured that I should probably wait a little longer.”

“Might be a good idea,” she retorted acidly. “I thought you had more brains than that.”

He grinned weakly. “Strangely, that’s exactly what Dr. Dearborn said when the nurses called her after finding me on the floor.”

She shot him a scornful look. “Trying to walk before time?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted. “Luckily, I managed to convince them not to tell Sydney. He’d tie me to the bed if he found out.”

“So when can you get out?” she prompted, and he shrugged again.

“Depends. If I had somewhere to go and somebody responsible to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid, 48 hours. As I don’t, they want to keep me in until the blisters go down on my fingers and I can walk without holding onto the furniture.” He shifted uneasily on the bed. “Maybe a week.”

“If it’s any comfort,” she reported, “Lyle and Raines are off on vacation until after New Year’s.”

“A wonderful opportunity wasted,” he griped, glaring at the bedclothes. “If only I wasn’t stuck in here, I’d…”

Suddenly, he seemed to remember he wasn’t alone and trailed off. Briefly, she considered trying to find out what he was going to say, but finally decided not to bother, feeling that she really didn’t want to know. Struggling to find a way to change the subject, Parker remembered the gift she had purchased and gently released her hand from his hold to open her handbag.

“I bought you a Christmas present,” she confessed, feeling suddenly awkward again as his eyes swung around in her direction, full of curiosity.

Without another word, Parker extracted the small bag and placed it on the bed. Jarod opened it eagerly, his face lighting up when he saw the contents.

“Hey, thanks,” he told her enthusiastically, trying to unwrap one of the packages but hampered by both obvious numbness and the bandages on his fingers, eventually glaring down at his hands in frustration. “Stupid things,” he muttered under his breath, and Parker was hard-pressed not to laugh, taking the small object from him and loading the candy into the PEZ dispenser lying on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” he muttered sullenly, dropping the object onto the tray over the bed when she gave it back to him, shooting another glare at it, before ignoring it completely.

“If you’re going to be like that, I’ll take them away again,” she teased, forgetting her awkwardness at the sheepish grin Jarod shot in her direction.

“Please, don’t,” he begged in little-boy tones, his eyes widening in mock-horror, clutching the bag to his chest. “Don’t take them away. I’ll be good.”

Parker couldn’t help smiling, shutting her bag and slinging the strap of it over her shoulder before looking up to meet his eyes for almost the first time since entering the room. Something about the glow in the brown depths called to her from their childhood, and she could almost believe that they were still the same two children they had been at the Centre, before the years had driven them apart. As if he was able to read her mind and knew better than to interrupt the moment, the man stayed silent, eyes fixed on her face and the fingers of his right hand fiddling clumsily with the end of the bandage on his left.

“I… should go,” she choked out before he could speak. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, I guess…” He trailed off, his disappointment obvious in his slumped shoulders and the expression in his eyes as he looked down at the bed before raising them again, hope flickering like a spark. “Will you come again?”

“Uh, maybe,” she forced out, standing up and backing away slightly so that he couldn’t take hold of her hand again. “I’ll see… If I’m busy…”

“Doing what?” he demanded in bitter tones. “You know exactly where I am, and I won’t be going anywhere for a while. It wouldn’t take a lot of ingenuity to find me this time.”

“I meant what I said,” she protested, moving back towards the bed in her indignation. “Don’t you think, if I didn’t, they’d already be here?”

His eyes were pleading, and she could see in them the terror he felt at being dragged back to the torture and slavery of the Centre. For the first time, seeing him unable to lie still in the bed, knowing instinctively that such restlessness would only increase the risk of any long-term injuries, she realized exactly what that place meant to him. Her shock melted into wordless sympathy and she slowly nodded.

“I promise, Jarod,” she murmured softly. “You’ll be safe here, if I can possibly help it.”

It wasn’t until she took several involuntary steps towards the bed that she felt his arm around her waist, his strength surprising in his weakened condition, but he needed less to make her bend down towards him. The bandages on his fingers rubbed at the back of her neck as he slipped his other hand around it and drew her closer.

The first touch was tentative, even more tentative than when she had kissed him in the darkness of the cabin. But now his lips were warm and the skin of his cheeks, to which her hands were irresistibly drawn, was equally so, as well as smoothly shaven. His hand clutched at her hair and she could feel the strands tugging slightly as they caught on the bandages. The force of his kiss parted her lips slightly and she could feel the tip of his tongue beginning a gentle exploration of her mouth.

Her body responded to the warmth of his breath and the eagerness of his touch, until a rattle from the hallway made her aware of their situation. Breaking away from his hold, her thoughts whirling, she shot him a glance that combined fear, desire, and a plea for forgiveness, clutched her bag to her and almost ran from the room.

~~~~~~


Parker was still trembling as she pulled the car into her garage and pressed the button to shut the door automatically after her, suddenly leaning forward to rest her forehead on the steering wheel, trying to catch her breath. Her mind presented her with the image she had been trying to repress since leaving the hospital -- the hurt look in Jarod's eyes as she had fled -- and the woman found herself suddenly sobbing.

She had seen that look once before, when, the last day before leaving for boarding school, she had come to see him. They had seen little of each other in the previous twelve months, with her out-of-school activities, including the shooting club her father had encouraged her to join, taking up a lot of her time. And for the few hours she was available, he was always hard at work. But on this day, they had found a spare five minutes to talk.

He had, as he always was, been fascinated by her plans, wanting to know every small detail that she could tell him. But she had felt a new and strange reserve between them that had limited her comments to the most basic. Just before she had left, he had asked her to write and tell him what she was up to. However, her father had anticipated this, and had already forbidden it. When she had told him that letters were out of the question, his eyes had taken on the look of a puppy that had been kicked for no reason, a look that made her want to cry. But she had forced the feeling away, given him a curt, impersonal goodbye, and then had not seen him again for more than 20 years.

A memory waltzed into her mind as she got out of the car, wiping her eyes, of the expression on Jarod's face as she watched him from the rooftop of the Queen of Angels hospital in New York. He had barely spared her a glance, his eyes trained on Sydney, wanting to see the older man’s reaction to his actions. And then the teasing hints about her past started to surface, and he had shown her the part she would play in the early period of his freedom.

Of course that, like everything else, had changed. He had contacted her more, Sydney less. She had seen how the reduction in notes and calls had worried the older man, and, she could even believe, had sometimes made him jealous when he had discovered where Jarod's attention had been refocused. However, when Jarod needed help or comfort, it was always Sydney to whom he had recourse. She would have to remember to tell the psychiatrist how much of Jarod's delirious ramblings had been about their time working together, and how much they had revealed of what the older man meant to him.

Her name had come up at times also. He reflected on their few years together, and she knew that he must often have dreamt of possibilities for them if their lives hadn’t taken such different routes, for his mutterings had often described such situations. Their kiss today had meant something big to him, as a conceivable opening for those dreams to come to fruition. That was the reason for his pain, the destruction of that imaginary world, just as surely as it had been ripped to shreds when she had clarified their situation on the island.

Entering the living room, she hurled her bag at the sofa, unsure of whether her anger was trained at herself, Jarod or their situation, feeling her eyes fill again and forcing the tears back. She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t push the ideas away. Her eyes traveled to the bottles that stood in her cabinet, but she refused to resort to alcohol as a way of avoiding the situation. She had done that too often, for too long now, and she was slowly beginning to realize that it never provided a permanent solution, only a curtain to hide behind. Another sob welled in her throat and she coughed it away, going to the kitchen for a glass of something more beneficial.

A small box sat on the bench, one that she had not noticed when she had gone through it to the living room, her thoughts on other things. But the flash of silver wrapping caught her eye as soon as she entered the room and she hurried over to pick it up.

“It can’t be…” she breathed, tearing the paper off it with eager, trembling hands.

The small box finally lay flat in the palm of her hand and she raised the lid, looking down at the small silver replica of life preserver. She blinked away the tears in her eyes, extracting the object from the box and finding that it was a small brooch. A note was tucked under the padding.

‘My life saver,’ it read, and she allowed herself one more soft sob.

Jarod hadn’t brought it, of course. He’d never lied to her in his life, and if he had said that he was unable to walk he meant precisely that. But he had arranged for it to be purchased and had it smuggled into her house while she was at work to show his appreciation for what she had done, acting on an assumption that she wouldn’t come and see him. And on a normal day, he would have been right. Had she not sat in the half-darkness of the cabin and listened to his delirious rambling for so many hours, coming to a new understanding of him, she would never have bothered to visit. Admittedly, she also wouldn’t have sent a team of sweepers to the hospital, but that was only because of her promise to him.

Her fingers tightened around the brooch and she lowered her head, pressing her hand against her chest and letting the tears flow down her cheeks. Choking, she coughed to clear her throat as she turned to the refrigerator for the interrupted drink. Pressure throbbed in her temples as Parker carried her drink and the brooch into her living room, sinking down onto the sofa and staring at the glittering object.

At this moment, the clouds parted and moonlight shone into the room, making another silver item in the corner shine, attracting her attention. A metal case stood there, one that she had forgotten to remove from her trunk at the hospital. It surprised her, suddenly, that Jarod hadn’t referred to it when she had seen him. After all, she knew how valuable the DSAs were to him. But maybe he thought she had handed them in to the Centre. It suddenly occurred to her as she looked at the case that she had no real idea of what she had gone through during the intervening 27 years since their last meeting as children. In fact, she had never really known what he had done at the Centre. She had read the reports, of course, before taking on the pursuit, but had no idea how he came to the conclusions he reached during the sims. Opening the case on the coffee table, she inserted the first disc, rolling the track ball to the start and then settling back against the cushions.

~~~~~~


A hand came out of the darkness and turned off the machine. Blinking in the sudden darkness, trying to stifle the emotions that the contents of those disks had caused in her, she looked up to see the psychiatrist’s eyes glittering in the dim light as he sat down on the sofa beside her.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Parker,” he remonstrated gently. “You didn’t need to see it.”

“I did,” she contradicted softly, looking down to find that the brooch was still pressed into the palm of her hand. “I never… understood before.”

Her voice trembled and the man’s arm slid around her shoulders. She leaned against him, feeling the tears slip down her face and onto the lapels of his jacket as she began to sob, struggling to cope with what she had seen. Sydney's hand gently stroked her hair, the man remaining silent.

“What happened, Parker?” he asked eventually, when she was calmer. “Jarod hardly spoke to me again after I came back to the room, and I’ve never seen you like this before.”

The woman shook her head and pushed away from him into an upright position, scrubbing at her eyes and feeling as a handkerchief was pushed into her warm fingers.

“N-nothing,” she lied, forcing her voice to stop trembling and wiping her eyes with the square of fabric. It was at that moment she became aware that the sharp edges of the brooch no longer pressed into her palm and she looked down sharply to find that it was missing.

Her eyes traveled quickly over the sofa, hoping to see a glint of silver in the moonlight, but when nothing showed itself, she dropped to her knees and began to scrabble on the floor. A feeling of desperation welled up in her as her fingers failed to find the object, her eyes still so blurred with tears that they were of little use.

“Are you looking for this?” the man asked gently and opened his hand to reveal the brooch, which she eagerly snatched, murmuring her thanks as she pinned it to her shirt.

“What happened?” Sydney asked again. “And don’t try to brush me off. Tell me. I might be able to help.”

Parker struggled to come up with an answer, detecting the compassion in his tones and feeling an almost irresistible urge to break down and tell him, but she tried to regain her usual demeanor. Resolving to remain silent, she looked up, glimpsing a flash of understanding in his eyes, and suddenly felt something give inside, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks afresh. Turning her face to his shoulder, Parker wept silently, feeling the man’s arm around her shoulders, his other hand stroking her hair, giving what comfort he could until he knew what the problem was.

Slowly, in an atmosphere that was almost visibly sympathetic, she sobbed out her feelings as the man remained silent. If the psychiatrist knew at the beginning of her explanation where she was going, he gave no sign, letting her speak until the words ran out. Her explanation was disordered and jumbled, but Sydney never showed that he was confused about what she was trying to tell him and, as she finished, she guessed that the information wasn’t surprising to him.

“What changed?” he asked finally. “How did your attitude to Jarod change?”

“How did his change to me?” she shot back, with some of her usual spirit.

“Has it?” the psychiatrist prompted. “Perhaps I’m a little biased – “

“A lot,“ she contradicted.

“A lot biased,” he corrected with a smile. “But I don’t think he’s changed very much from what he was when you two were children. He’s more experienced, of course, and he also has greater intelligence than he did then, but his lack of opportunity for emotional development during his time at the Centre has left him delayed in that area. He was more mature than an average child of four when he came to the Centre, and he continued to emotionally develop for several years after that, but I honestly feel he isn’t very different, emotionally, from what he was when you knew each other.”

“That doesn’t mean… he still feels the same,” she protested brokenly. Her eyes turned to those of the man beside her. “Does it?”

He smiled. “Maybe, when you know why you changed, you’ll know the answer to that question.”

It sounded like one of the cryptic calls she was used to receiving from Jarod in the middle of the night, and she could suddenly see where the Pretender had picked up the habit. Doubtless, that was the way Sydney had posed the tasks he had given the younger man, as well as accepting his answers in the same uncertain tone, forcing Jarod to constantly question himself, just as she was questioning herself now.

“I was… trained to think of him in that way,” she finally got out. “As a subject, something that the Centre had lost, that needed to be returned, like a valuable entity.”

“But not a person,” Sydney added. “At the start of the pursuit, you couldn’t see Jarod as a person, having the same rights as anyone else. You rejected the memory of what you shared as children because it didn’t fit into your image of how you were supposed to see Jarod. As well as that, you rejected any idea of friendship from anyone else.”

Parker nodded, wrapping her arms around her chest, feeling suddenly exposed and, inexplicably, lonely. Her head sank lower and her gaze was caught by the brooch she wore, the moonlight that shone through the window, also reflecting off the snow on the ground outside, making it shine into her eyes.

“I don’t think you’re going to know if there’s a difference,” Sydney stated decisively, “unless you ask him.”

The woman was suddenly struck by an idea and turned sharply, fixing the psychiatrist with one of her best glares. “What are you talking about, Syd?”

He smiled. “I want to get Jarod out of that hospital. Not that I don’t trust you or myself, but I’ve got a fear that one of the many random checks the Centre does for him, even when we’re not at the Centre, might lead them to him. It’s also not helping him to recover, being there. But I couldn’t think of any place where he could go that he would be taken care of sufficiently. Then, this afternoon, it finally struck me, and the answer’s so obvious that I don’t know why it took so long.”

“Where?” she snapped.

“Here,” he responded. “Right here in Blue Cove. The Centre’s never going to look for him in their own backyard, so he’d be safer here than just about anywhere.”

“At your house?” she demanded.

“Or at yours,” he suggested with another smile. “This place has several advantages mine doesn’t -- the entry through the garage, the back rooms which aren’t visible from the street, the trees that grow up close to the house…”

“All right, I get the picture,” she told him, feeling slightly exasperated. “So then what?”

“He stays for a couple of days, until he can manage on his own, then, knowing Jarod, he disappears in the night, the way he normally does. We go back to work after the New Year as if nothing ever happened and take up where we left off.”

After a moment of thought, she looked up. “Have you put this plan of yours to Jarod yet?”

“No, not yet.” Sydney eyed her slyly. “But I have this funny feeling he won’t object.”

~~~~~~


Parker looked around the room, checking that everything was as Sydney had recommended it to be. A small heater made the room warm, and she checked that the electric blanket was working, at the same time trying to quash a small voice in her head that told her she was looking forward to his arrival. This was something she was doing as a small favor to Sydney, to make up for the many things, small and large, he had done for her. It had little to do with Jarod. And yet she was unable to help a small quiver of excitement in her stomach at the thought that he would be there.

Suddenly she heard the door from the garage open, aware that the fire would be burning brightly enough to illuminate the room without turning on the light. Male voices murmured softly and she came out of the bedroom in time to see Sydney supporting Jarod into an armchair. In the dim light from the fire, Parker could just see the dark shadows under the younger man’s eyes as he looked up at her from beneath hooded lids but remained silent.

“Is everything ready?” the psychiatrist asked quietly, and she nodded in conformation, gesturing silently towards the room. He slipped inside, during which time she moved over to the fireplace and added wood to the burning heap rather than meet the eye of the other occupant of the living room. Before she could turn around, Sydney had returned, and sounds suggested that Jarod had risen from the chair.

“I can manage,” the deep voice growled, and footsteps moved slowly over the carpet towards the bedroom. She turned to find that the room was empty. Several moments later, the psychiatrist emerged from the bedroom, drawing her gently into the kitchen.

“He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the afternoon,” he told her quietly. “Soup or something light will be the best thing if he’s hungry this evening. And he knows he shouldn’t get up, except to use the bathroom, at least until tomorrow.”

Parker nodded, watching as the man shrugged into his jacket and then went into the garage. A moment later, she heard his car start up as she opened the garage door for him and the vehicle drove away. She shut the door against the draught caused by the garage closing again and then made her way to the guest bedroom.

Jarod lay in the bed on his side, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Despite the regularity of his breathing and the lack of expression on his face, Parker had the feeling that he was still awake. The thought occurred to her that he might be finding this situation as bizarre as she was. Turning away, she went back to the living room and a pile of folders she had brought home with her to work on during the vacation.

~~~~~~


Forty-eight hours had passed since Jarod's arrival, most of which he had spent in bed, ostensibly sleeping. Parker had spent little time in the room with him, only taking in meals and collecting the empty dishes, trying with limited success to concentrate on other things. She had brought forms home from the Centre, a backlog of work that needed to be completed, and was filling them in when his large form filled the doorway of the living room, keeping her attention focused firmly on the paperwork as Jarod sat in a chair. Silence extended for several minutes, an awkward silence, before it was broken.

“You found it, then.”

The silver brooch pinned to her shirt caught her eye as she sat back against the sofa, and Parker looked up to meet his gaze. “Yes,” she responded solemnly. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his dark eyes glittering in the light thrown by a lamp on a nearby table. Parker tried to focus again on her work but could feel his eyes burning into her from the other side of the room.

“Don’t,” she protested sharply, without raising her head.

“Don’t what?” he asked in response. “Look at you? Think about you?”

“Either,” she snapped. “You’re here as a favor to Sydney, that’s all.”

“I never asked you that,” he told her quietly. “I wasn’t even thinking it.”

Parker felt as if she had already lost an argument before it had even before, trapped by her own protestations. Warmth flooded her face and she lowered her head further over the papers, trying to ignore the fact that she wasn’t alone. But her eyes couldn’t focus on the typing in front of her, her heart pounding in her ears, able to hear the quick, light breathing from the man opposite.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking?” he suggested airily.

“No,” she responded abruptly.

“I was thinking,” he continued, as if she had never spoken, “that I should probably leave early in the morning.”

She looked up suddenly, a feeling of astonishment mixed, she suddenly realized, although she was horrified by the feeling and tried to force it away, with deep disappointment. Deep down, she had been hoping that they could sort out their unique situation in the time that this circumstance had provided for them, and yet that hadn’t been forthcoming.

“Why?” she demanded. “It’s only the 28th.”

“You know how I feel about Blue Cove,” he replied evenly. “Or if you don’t, you should.”

”I didn’t notice you objecting to coming here,” she shot back.

“I had no choice,” he informed her. “It was either here or the hospital, and that was worse. At least I know this place. I can escape from here if the circumstance requires it. I couldn’t do that there.”

“Where will you go?” she asked after a moment of silence, and for the first time since his arrival in the house, he smiled, mockingly.

“You want me to tell you?”

Her face glowing anew, she looked back down at her forms.

“Somewhere warm,” his voice informed her steadily. “I promised Sydney that much. But I can’t be more specific.” He sighed deeply. “Actually, it’s not you I don’t trust. It’s them, Michaela.”

Her head shot up, staring at him in disbelief, seeing him studying at the carpet. After a second of prolonged silence, he slowly looked up. His dark brown eyes met hers, something glowing in their depths.

“You’ve never… called me that before,” she murmured brokenly.

“You would never have let me,” he stated quietly. “I don’t even know if you’re allowing me to say it now.”

She understood the unspoken accusation, knowing that he was expecting her to leap out of the chair and storm from the room. But somehow she couldn’t move, the expression in his eyes just as entrancing to her as the unconscious innocence on his face had been during their time in the cabin.

“What happened, Jarod?” she asked eventually. “What changed?”

“Nothing changed for me,” he responded. “Time passed, people came and went, but every day I hoped that I would see you. I watched for you, waited for you, and went to bed each night with the hope that you might come tomorrow. That hope kept me alive and sane. I kept hoping for it, right up until my escape.”

Michaela swallowed hard. So Sydney had been right. Jarod was little different from the boy she’d befriended so many years before. Something about that caused a pain to flower inside her chest, pain that felt like guilt.

“You never came,” he went on, “but, although it was hard, I never lost hope. And when I escaped, I wondered if you’d be willing to help me, but the person who drove me away from the Centre didn’t take me in your direction. Then I found out that they were using you to hunt for me. I found out about the years of training you went through, your time in Corporate and as a cleaner, and I knew you wouldn’t have helped me.”

Despite the words, his tone remained unbitter, non-accusing, non-judgmental. His eyes continued to study her face, seeming to watch for any reaction, but those same years of training to which he had referred now stood her in good stead, and she knew her expression would remain impassive, despite the emotional turmoil inside.

“Even despite knowing that, I deluded myself into thinking that maybe you would have helped,” he added. “I read all the reports put in about your work and I saw your progress and yet I still allowed myself to imagine what might have happened if I’d turned up at the right time.” Jarod slapped his hands down onto his knees, forcing himself into an upright position. “Stupid,” he declared, turning in the direction of his room. “One of the few stupid things I’ve ever done in my life.”

The words seemed to cut into her like a knife and she bounded to her feet, crossing the floor in a few quick steps and, grabbing his arm, turned him back to face her. She stared up into his eyes for a brief moment, reading the pain and hurt there as the dream he had had for so long was once more shattered, before kissing him.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, a sudden pressure as he forced her backwards, and saw his eyes glinting angrily down at her.

“Don’t mock me, Parker,” he growled. “Don’t make fun of what I feel. I never did that to you.”

“I changed once,” she told him softly. “Can’t I change again?”

“I run,” he ground out. “You chase. You set the rules.”

“Nobody said we couldn’t break them,” Michaela murmured, feeling his large hands still pressing against her shoulders.

He studied her face, and her eyes flickered briefly up to the mark on his forehead, the color of which was now fading from brown to a paler hue, the only outward sign of his accident now that the blisters on his fingers had healed. When she met his gaze again, she could read the expression of longing in them, although the rest of his face remained stern.

“Do you really know,” he breathed, “how I feel about you?”

“Yes,” she responded honestly. “You told me, back in that cabin.”

His expression finally cracked, a tiny smile appearing on his face. “Don’t you know that it’s rude to listen in to private conversations?”

Michaela reached up, stroking his cheek with the backs of the fingers on her right hand. “When it concerns me, that gives me the right to listen, doesn’t it?”

“There’s a proverb about what people hear about themselves when they eavesdrop,” he scolded lightly. “It’s usually not good.”

“It didn’t come true in this case,” she responded, drifting closer to his lips. “You just told me what I need to know now.”

His hands slid over her shoulders and up to cup her cheeks in his palms. Michaela eased herself closer to him, slipping her other hand in behind his head, gently stroking the hair on the nape of his neck as he lowered his head and lightly touched his mouth to hers.

“Jarod,” she murmured, without breaking contact. “Anyone coming up the path could see us.”

He chuckled, deep in his throat. “Any suggestions?”

“Your room.”

He eased back a few inches, grinning. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“I always get what I want,” she retorted, allowing him to guide her down the hallway.

“So I noticed,” he remarked, opening the door and pulling her inside.

She felt the increased temperature hit them as they entered the room, the small heater throwing out warmth, as Sydney had told her it needed to be. The bed was haphazardly made, the covers roughly pulled up over the mattress. An empty glass stood on the bedside table and, surprisingly, Jarod's DSA player stood on the floor next to the bed.

“Where did you get that?” she demanded, nodding at it even as her hands worked on the buttons of the pajama top he wore.

“The living room,” he responded with a grin. “You left it out there last night.”

“You weren’t going to let me hand it in after Christmas, to show the Triumvirate what a busy girl I was over the vacation?”

Jarod's eyes suddenly saddened, his hands grasping hers firmly. “Most people have photos as mementos of their past,” he remarked. “I have DSAs.” His hands released their grip and reached for the hem of her sweater. “When I can find a way to copy them onto an equally durable viewing product, I’ll consider sending them to you, to hand on to the Triumvirate.”

She nodded, completing the last button of his top and peeling it off his shoulders, leaning over to kiss the skin of his shoulder, around to his neck. He dipped his head, meeting her lips with his own, rubbing a gentle thumb over her cheek.

“Either you put on way too much make-up this morning, or this room is too warm for you,” he told her with another grin. “Anything I can do to help?”

Michaela let him peel off her sweater and toss it aside. “Do your fingers have that much feeling in them yet?” she asked, unbuttoning her shirt and sending it after the sweater.

“Plenty,” he assured her. “Like I told you, the frostbite wasn’t that serious.”

She felt him pull her body against his, walking them backwards until his legs hit the bed, dragging her gently down with him until she lay on top of him. As he wriggled backwards on the bed, taking her with him, she felt his pajama pants slide off, but she ignored them as they fell to the floor. His warm hands felt along her back, the lightness of his touch make gooseflesh rise on her skin as he unfastened the back of her bra, easing it off her chest and letting it fall to the floor. Reaching up, he brushed back a strand of hair from her face and then kissed her again.

“You said you always get what you want,” he teased. “So what do you want us to do next?”

She was momentarily concerned. “Will this be okay for you, or could it cause more problems?”

He grinned. “Exercise will get my heart-rate up, increase blood flow – “

Michaela placed a hand over his mouth, cutting him short. “I don’t want a biology lesson, genius,” she told him sharply. “Good for you – yes or no?”

His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Yes.”

“Good.” She placed her hands on either side of his face, kissing him passionately and feeling as his hands roamed over her back. “I’m still - partly dressed - “ she managed to tell him, between hungry kisses. “It could - be awkward.”

“Excuses, excuses,” he tutted, rolling her onto her back and rising up on his knees, easing off her panties.

She reached up and pulled him back down to her, feeling him gathering the covers together with his left hand. He rolled them against her side and then gently rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Finally, he pulled the blankets back over them both and she grinned.

“Very smooth,” she commented, and he chuckled.

“Not just in that,” he responded. “Besides, I’ve dreamt of this moment for years.”

Michaela raised herself on her hands to look down at him. “Did you simulate it?”

“No,” he responded honestly, before suddenly laughing, his expression reminding her of a small boy on Christmas morning. “The sims are work. This was always pleasure.”

She grinned, lowering herself again so that she lay against his chest, decorating it with small, light kisses, gradually heading in a downward direction.

~~~~~~


Her hand was splayed out on the pillow beside her the following morning, and she stared blankly at her fingers for a moment before suddenly realizing that they had been making contact with human skin when she fell asleep. Sitting up, she pulled the blankets in to her chest, casting her eyes around the room and feeling her heart sink.

He wasn’t there.

Not only was he not there, but the pajamas lay neatly folded and his bags were gone, both the bag she’d brought to him at the hospital, and which he had brought here, and the DSA case. The memory of the previous night’s conversation waltzed into her mind and she knew that she should have expected this. He had said he was leaving, and he always abided by his word.

Getting out of bed, she reached for the pajamas he had worn and pulled them on, uncaring that they were several sizes too large. They were still warm, and for a moment she wondered if she would find him in the house, but then she saw that the pajamas had been lying on top of the heater, which had been turned down to a lower degree of warmth, and knew that he would have been gone for some time.

Bending down to gather her clothes, she heard something crackle and put her hand into the top pocket, pulling out a folded note. Sinking back onto the bed, she read it.

‘It was good for me. Very good. I hope it was for you, too. Love J.’

She couldn’t help giggling at that. Standing up again, she stripped the bed and carried the sheets into the laundry, dumping them into the washing machine before returning for her clothes. After adding them to the load and turning on the machine, she wandered out into the living room. The fire had burned low, but hadn’t yet gone out, suggesting that fresh fuel had been added during the night.

In the kitchen, the table was laid for breakfast, a plate waiting to go into the microwave, and she had to wonder at his ability to do all this without waking her. Heating up the meal, she went out to collect her paper from the front porch, taking it back into the warm house with a slight shiver for the coldness of the outside world. She had just rescued the meal when her phone rang. Sitting at the table, she answered it.

“What?”

“Is Jarod still there?”

“No, Syd,” she responded evenly. “Seems like he left during the night.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“He said he would, and you know as well as I do that he doesn’t lie.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

She chuckled. “As if he would.”

“True.” There was a pause, and she could detect his concern in the quickness of the breathing on the other end of the line. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“He can take care of himself,” Miss Parker reminded him. “He’s a big boy now.”

Her lips curled into an involuntary smile, but she managed to keep the emotion out of her voice.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he retorted drily. “Will you let me know if he contacts you?”

“Of course, Syd. And you’d let me know if he called you, wouldn’t you?” she suggested. “After all, I’m sure the Triumvirate would want to know what their favorite boy was up to over the Christmas vacation.”

He laughed softly. “You’re right, Miss Parker. I’m sure they would.”


The End









You must login (register) to review.