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Escape From Alcatraz
Part 10



Jarod

“Jarod? Jarod!”

The voice was persistent, and then he realized that a hand was gently shaking his shoulder. He blinked and struggled to focus on Cici’s face, only faintly able to note the concerned tone in her voice.

“You okay?”

He inhaled shakily, his vision too blurred to make sight possible. She put her hand over his arm and closed her fingers firmly around it. The pain that flashed up to his shoulder made him gasp and instantly dissolved the fear that seemed to lurk inside him.

“Breathe, Jarod,” her voice reminded him. “You’re having a panic attack. Deep breaths.”

For an immeasurable length of time, which felt like forever, but which was probably only a few seconds, Jarod felt as if he was frozen inside his own body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and his senses seemed to have shut down. Only terror seemed to fill him, this time not about the Centre but his inability to move.

Then he once more felt a tight grasp on his arm that shot pain up to his shoulder, which seemed to break the ice that surrounded him, and suddenly he could breathe again, gasping for air as his vision finally cleared and his brain clicked back into motion.

“It’s all right, Jarod,” Cici said gently, her hand lightly rubbing the place on his arm where she had gripped him so tightly and pinched the nerve. “Relax. Breathe.”

He finally managed to lift his eyes to her face, feeling himself trembling. She entwined her fingers with his, her eyes holding his gaze. There was something so wonderfully comforting and knowing in her eyes that he felt himself inwardly responding.

“It’s okay,” she reiterated softly. “Relax, Jarod. It’s over.”

Still unable to speak, he tried to ask her mutely, through his eyes, what had just happened to him, and she seemed to understand, her voice still gentle as she spoke.

“It’s called a panic attack. Something triggers a response in your brain and your nervous system goes into overdrive. You’re so afraid of whatever it was that your instincts even shut down, so you forget to breathe. In some people, they get so bad that the person passes out. We’ll keep an eye on things and help you in case they happen again.”

“Thanks,” he croaked.

She smiled. “Let’s take your mind off things. Can you walk on your own, or do you want a hand?”

Jarod found, to his surprise, that the car was stopped in front of Shannon’s house, and that Josh and Nat were gone, presumably inside. Charles’ car was parked in front of theirs and it, too, was empty.

“I… I think I can walk,” he replied weakly, and, releasing his hand from Cici’s hold, managed to find the door handle.

By the time he reached the pavement, he felt better. His hands had stopped shaking and his mind was functioning properly again. Cici moved beside him, watchful, Jarod guessed, for any sign that he might be going to have another attack, and he asked the question himself, unsure whether he really wanted to know the answer.

“Is that going to happen again?”

“Possibly,” she responded. “Some people do. Others only have one. We won’t know, unless it does happen again, but we’ll know what’s happening next time.”

It wasn’t particularly comforting, but Jarod guessed that Cici was preparing him for the fact that he could have that happen again, and appreciated her honesty. Then they were at Shannon’s front door, and Nat was waving them inside with a finger on his lips and an expression of delight in his eyes.

Jarod followed Cici inside, stopping short in the doorway to the living room and seeing his father sitting on the sofa, a bundle in his arms. It was, however, the expression on his face that Jarod found most arresting. It was a look of love, of tenderness, almost of adoration. A faint recollection flickered in Jarod’s mind and suddenly strengthened until it was a vivid memory.

He was young, perhaps about four years old. Mommy, the center of his world, had been gone for six whole days. Daddy had promised that, when she came back, she would bring a very special surprise. And today was that day. He was trying to read a new book Daddy had brought for him when he heard sounds at the front of the house that he usually heard when someone was coming to visit. Abandoning the book, he ran through the house, arriving at the front door just in time to see Mommy coming through it, another woman helping her inside.

He was about to throw himself at her when Daddy appeared, a wrapped bundle in his arms, and held Jarod back until Mommy was sitting on the sofa. Then she opened her arms to him and he ran to her, scrambling up onto her lap and kissing her, telling her, between kisses, how much he’d missed her. Then Daddy sat on the sofa beside them and turned back a corner of the blanket.

“Jarod,” he said gently, his expression full of love as he exchanged glances with Mommy, the way he always did when he was really happy, “there’s someone here for you to meet.”

“This is your surprise, Jarod,” Mommy said, cuddling him. “This is your new brother. Kyle.”

Jarod looked at the baby’s small face, seeing that Kyle had blue eyes, like Mommy. Jarod’s own eyes were dark brown, like Daddy’s. Jarod reached out and very gently touched Kyle’s tiny hand, seeing the little fingers open and close.


“Jarod?” His mother’s voice spoke softly in his ear, breaking into his reverie. “What is it, baby?”

He smiled at her. “I remember,” he murmured. “Kyle. The day you brought him home from the hospital. I remember now.”

Her eyes misted and she smiled back at him, reaching up to lightly kiss his cheek. “That was a special day for all of us,” she whispered. “I’m glad you remember.”

“Jarod,” Charles’ voice called softly.

Giving his mother a quick kiss, Jarod moved over to the sofa, sitting beside his father and looking down at the baby, who stared back at him out of bright blue eyes. It was a rather surreal moment and seemed to take him back in time.

“Shannon’s baby,” Charles said quietly. “Here. Want a hold?”

Jarod had barely a moment to realize what his father meant and to hold out his arms for the warm little bundle that was placed into them. He hadn’t ever been allowed to hold Kyle, he remembered suddenly as he settled the baby safely against his left arm, because he wasn’t big enough. The infant was staring up at him, and Jarod smiled down into the big blue eyes, gently stroking the downy hair that poked out from under the blanket covering the small head with his right hand and hoping fervently that Shannon would let him help her take care of it.

*~*~*~*~*


Shannon

Shannon heard the commotion of arrival at the front of the house and Sofia pleading with them in her stilted English to be quiet. It took a moment, but then Charles’ voice could be heard, repeating the Norwegian girl’s directions, and the voices died away into silence. She settled back against the pile of pillows behind her with a smile and closed the book she had been reading after waking from a nap.

She thought back to the day after she had discovered she was pregnant. Back at home, with her new car, a sedan this time, in the garage, she and Sofia had read through the books Cici had leant her and wrote a list of things they needed. Shannon was surprised at how quickly she had adjusted to the idea of having a baby. In some moments, it felt like it was just a sim, but then the baby would kick and remind her that it was real.

One of the books Cici had given her had said that the baby should sleep in a separate room from its mother, so Shannon and Sofia had set up a corner of the living room as a makeshift nursery with furniture they hired from a nursery supply store. That had been delivered the next day, and as they brought in the boxes, one of the men mentioned that a nearby department store was having a sale on baby clothes. So, as soon as the boxes were unloaded, Shannon and Sofia had gone out again. They had purchased clothes and diapers, as well as several stuffed toys and a baby monitor. Then, and with some difficulty, they had strung a wire along the length of the living room so that they could curtain off the baby’s space.

That evening, they had set the furniture up, and only just in time. A few hours later, Shannon felt the first contractions. Even while she was still waiting for them to worsen, and while Sofia was getting towels and hot water, the baby had appeared with virtually no effort at all on Shannon’s part. Shannon was still bemused by that, having read horror stories of labors that lasted for days at a time. But the baby was beautiful, with big blue eyes, like Shannon’s own, and a dark tuft of soft hair on the top of the little, round, pink head.

Shannon had no idea she could feel as strongly about anything as she did about this baby. She didn’t know where the feelings came from, nor when they had started, but the moment Sofia had wrapped the infant in one of the newly purchased rugs and handed it to her, Shannon felt as if her heart would burst. A protective instinct swept through her, and she held the baby close, seeming to act on instinct. It moved slightly in her arms before its eyes closed, falling asleep instantly.

Now she smiled as she put the book aside, wondering what the others would think. It had been an effort not to say what was going on when she called each of them, leaving messages, as no one had answered her calls. But they must have heard at least one for them to be here as soon as they were.

Then the door opened, softly, as if it was going to disturb her, and Cici appeared in the doorway, her expression so comical that Shannon laughed.

“Two weeks or two days?” she asked, giggling, as Cici came over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“It was only an estimate,” the doctor replied, smiling. “How long, Prodge?”

“Twenty minutes,” the new mother replied, guessing that Cici was asking about the labor. “About that, anyhow. And it wasn’t that painful.”

“I’m glad, honey.” Cici leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. “She’s beautiful. What are you going to call her?”

Shannon’s brow furrowed as she considered. Should she tell Cici about the little voice that had spoken so clearly in her head, only an hour before the contractions started? The voice that had distinctly introduced itself was, Shannon somehow knew, the voice of her daughter. But it sounded so strange, and to anyone who hadn’t experienced it, so impossible, that Shannon decided not to mention it.

“Caroline,” she said simply. “Carrie.”

“That’s very pretty,” Cici smiled. “It suits her.”

Movement at the doorway drew Shannon’s gaze there and she saw Josh hovering in the hall outside the room. Waving him in, she held out her hand and he ran over to throw himself at her, kissing her cheek and cuddling her around the neck.

“What happened on Carthis?” Shannon asked after a moment, looking from Josh to the doctor, who smiled, glancing around at the small room.

“This isn’t really big enough for everyone to come in and tell you,” she remarked. “Why don’t we get you up and out into the living room? Then we can tell you together.”

“Sure,” Shannon agreed, before honesty forced her to add, “but I might need some help. I’m not too steady.”

“Of course,” Cici laughed, before glancing at Josh. “Why don’t you go get a chair set up out there for Shannon? Get a rug and few cushions and have them ready on one of the armchairs.”

“Okay!”

Josh disappeared out of the room, and Cici laughed at his eagerness as she helped Shannon to sit up, getting a robe out of the cupboard and slippers from under the bed and helping her into them. Offering an arm, the doctor supported her into the living room, where Nat, aided by a redheaded woman that Shannon recognized as Jarod's mother, was setting up a chair for her.

Nat and Charles were rummaging in the kitchen, and she could hear the soft purr that meant the large urn was on and heating up. Jarod sat on the sofa, Carrie in his arms, and she could hear him talking soft nonsense to the infant, in tones that made Shannon smile as she settled into the armchair. Sofia was busy in the baby’s bedroom, tidying up the few things that were scattered around, and once Shannon was settled, Cici went over to help.

When she was comfortable, Shannon looked up to see Emily in the other armchair, watching her silently. There was something stern, disapproving, almost resentful, in her gaze, and Shannon was about to ask her to explain it when Nat’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Prodge? You want something to drink?”

“There’s juice in the fridge,” she called back. “Some of that, please.”

“‘Kay.”

He appeared a moment later with the glass and set up one of the tables that leaned, folded, against the wall. “Food?”

She smiled at him as she accepted the glass. “What are you making?”

“Sandwiches. It’s lunchtime.”

“I’ve already had an early lunch,” she admitted. “I was up at 5:30 with Carrie this morning, so all my meals have been early today. But can you slice me a banana?”

“Sure thing.” He wheeled around and headed for the kitchen.

Shannon realized that Jarod's mother was standing beside the chair and smiled up at her. “You must be Margaret.”

The redhead smiled, sitting down on a footstool nearby. “And you’re Shannon. I’ve heard about you.”

“Yes, we told her all about you,” Charles laughed as he brought over a tray of drinks, winking at the girl before he came over to kiss her. “All the awful things you’ve done!”

Shannon giggled, lifting her arms to hug him. “I’ve terrified,” she laughed.

“So you should be,” he said in mock-sternness, handing his wife a steaming mug of coffee and sitting on the footstool when she wriggled over to make room for him. Then he glanced at his son, who was still cuddling Carrie, and smiled at the new mother. “She’s a beautiful baby, Prodge.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, sipping the juice and then looking up in time to see that the many emotions on Emily’s face had been simplified to one – jealousy. Shannon made the decision that she would have to do something about that, and as soon as possible.

*~*~*~*~*


That time arrived later that evening. Still feeling a little shaky from the birth in the early hours of that day, Shannon had gone to bed for a nap, leaving the others to take care of Carrie, who was a placid baby, willing to be passed around and cuddled by anyone. After lunch, Cici gave Shannon a lesson in breastfeeding, and, using a hand-pump she had sent Nat out to buy, had helped the new mother express enough milk for the afternoon, so they wouldn’t need to disturb her when the baby was hungry. Shannon had woken up when it was time for Carrie to have another feed, and found herself unable to go back to sleep.

The house was quiet, the men and Josh having gone out to buy food for dinner. Margaret, with Cici’s help, was trying to bring Sofia out of her shyness, into which she had retreated when the group arrived that morning. That left Emily, and Shannon was considering the looks she had received from that young woman. Shannon could partly understand her feelings; she was half-jealous of Emily herself, for being the Boss’s daughter and for having a family. Although she had never spoken of it to anyone, Shannon was even jealous of Meg and Tom for what they had that she didn’t.

Thinking about it, Shannon could vaguely remember several similar glances from Emily that she had received after she came to Lucy’s house. Doubtless, they stemmed from the same source.

Even as she was thinking this, she heard a faint tap on her door.

“Come in.”

When it opened, Shannon was surprised to see Emily. Had she been in the young woman’s place, she knew, she would have stayed as far away as possible. But Shannon forced a smile and waved her into the room. Emily remained silent while she came in and sat down at the chair in front of the desk, turning it so that she could look at the young woman in the bed. Before she could speak, though, Shannon jumped in with the apology she thought was deserved.

“I’m sorry for bailing you up like I did.”

The resentment abated, replaced by curiosity. “Why did you?”

Shannon half-smiled. “What would you have done if I’d told you that your father and brother were there and that I’d take your place?”

Emily shrugged. “Not believed you.”

“Exactly. That’s why I felt like I had to do it that way.”

“Mmm.” The older woman nodded, studying the floor.

Watching her for a moment, Shannon guessed that she was trying to find the words. Feeling that direct language was the best way to talk to her, the younger woman spoke again.

“Why do you hate me, Emily? Is it because of the way your father treats me?”

Emily looked up, and Shannon was almost frightened by the look of pure hatred in her brown eyes.

“Yes,” she hissed from between clenched teeth, and Shannon realized that she was the verge of bursting into tears. “Yes, it is. I see him for the first time in years and he’s so worried about you that he doesn’t even have time to notice me.”

“Crap,” Shannon said succinctly, using Nat’s favorite phrase, which he had picked up from other technicians at the Centre. “He might have been a little worried about me, but of course he noticed you. He took you with him, didn’t he? He didn’t leave you in the woods, to be found by Centre cleaners.”

“He hadn’t noticed you were missing then,” Emily spat. “But first he acted like I was some pariah, and then, as soon as Jarod noticed you weren’t around, he was so involved in that that he had no time for me.”

“He was probably worried that you’d been working for the Centre, the same way I was when I first found your file,” Shannon replied calmly, ignoring the second point. “After all, he’s been building this team up for years, in the hope of finding his sons and reuniting his family. It would only take one mistake – bringing in one single person who might run back to the Centre to tell them about his organization – and everyone he’s saved would be either locked up or dead.”

Shannon watched Emily consider and then concede this point, but the fire of anger still burned in her eyes as she looked up again.

“He loves you more than me.”

This was so ludicrous that Shannon almost laughed out loud. She stopped herself just in time, her eyes fixed on the bed as she tried to stop her lips twitching.

“I can’t prove to you that that’s wrong,” she stated, when she had regained control over her voice. Then she looked up. “But I know that there hasn’t been a conversation I’ve ever had with the Boss that wasn’t about an assignment where he hasn’t mentioned you and your family. Has he ever mentioned me to you?”

Silence greeted this remark, which Shannon took to mean that her assumption was correct.

“I won’t deny,” she said softly, when the silence threatened to go on for too long, “that your father is very special to me. He’s probably as close to a father of my own as I’ll ever know. I was born in the Centre, and if it weren’t for him, I would probably have died in the Centre. He’s saved me from that. Surely that gives me a reason to love him.”

“He doesn’t have to love you back,” Emily snapped curtly, and it was obvious to Shannon that she was once more fighting for emotional control.

“I’m as close to a daughter as he’s had for almost a year,” she replied gently. “The Boss wants to be a father,” she continued, “and in the absence of his own children, he fathers people who need it. The group he’s gathered around himself over the past ten years has been an attempt to make a substitute family, but I don’t think it’s been enough. He’s talked about you and Margaret and his sons so much that, when I saw you in the woods, I felt like I already knew you. I’ve walked down the street with him and seen his eye follow every red-haired woman of your mothers’ age, and every brunette of yours. He carries your photos around in his wallet every day of his life. There is nothing I or anyone else here could do that would replace what he feels for you. Josh has come the closest, both because of his relationship with Jarod and because he gives the Boss a second chance – the chance he lost when Jarod was taken. But I could never hope to take your place in his heart, even if I wanted to!”

Emily’s lips twisted, and then her eyes filled, the tears spilling down her cheeks as she stared at the younger woman.

“I want… to believe you,” she sobbed.

“I can’t make you,” Shannon answered, still in the same gentle tone. “I can only tell you what I feel and ask you to do me the credit of believing me.” She paused. “I promise you that I don’t lie, Emily. For twenty years, I was beaten for lying, and although I know consciously that that isn’t going to happen again, subconsciously I’m too afraid to even try it.”

“They… beat you?” Emily half-whispered, looking up, and Shannon believed that the woman’s resistance was fading

“Almost every day,” she admitted softly. “For anything Raines thought I did wrong, or even if he was just in a bad enough mood. Someone else’s pain,” she added somewhat bitterly, “seemed to lessen his.”

“Dinner!”

The call rang through the house, and Emily sniffed, hurriedly wiping her red eyes.

“You can splash your face with water next door,” Shannon offered. “The bathroom is the first door on the left.”

Emily cast a startled glance at the younger woman and then suddenly fled the room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Shannon lay back against the pillows with a weary sigh, hoping that she had said and done the right things. Then Sofia appeared in the doorway with Carrie, and Shannon accepted the warmly wrapped bundle, holding it close to her as she pulled up the loose t-shirt and brought her nipple close to the baby’s mouth. A drop of milk had already seeped out of the tip, and the scent was enough to catch the infant’s attention. Within seconds, she was sucking enthusiastically.

Gently stroking her daughter’s hair, Shannon looked down into the innocent little face, kissing the tips of the fingers of her left hand and touching them to the baby’s forehead.

“Oh, Carrie,” she whispered longingly. “I hope you never feel that way about anyone.”

*~*~*~*~*


Charles

Charles lay on a makeshift bed on the floor of Shannon’s living room, his wife sleeping beside him. His daughter was asleep on the sofa. He was drowsily considering the conversation he and Margaret had had with Emily the previous evening. After the group had had dinner, Nat and Cici had gone home. Charles had gone in to see Shannon, who had revealed a little of the discussion between herself and Emily. That had prompted the conversation, which had continued into the early hours, and Charles was musing on this as he heard the front door softly open.

Some time ago, he thought he had heard it open, and assumed that Josh was going for the run with which he usually began each day. The door closed again, and then soft footsteps crossed the carpet to the makeshift bedroom. Charles smiled slightly. Josh had been intrigued by Carrie, having never seen anything that small and helpless, and the adults willingly taught him things as the occasions arose, so that he could help Shannon later.

Then a voice murmured softly and incomprehensibly. Charles immediately stiffened, although it took him a moment to realize what had alarmed him. The voice was deeper than Josh’s, which was still youthful and unbroken. Every nerve in Charles’ body was suddenly on edge and his eyes flew open, but otherwise he remained motionless.

From his prone position, his back was to the baby’s room, but his bag lay nearby and he stealthily slid a hand inside, finding his gun and sliding it out without a sound. He managed to cock it with only the slightly click, and then steadied himself to move. The voice beside the bed continued to murmur softly.

With one bound, he was on his feet and across the room, the gun pressed between the shoulder blades of the young man bent over the baby’s bed. The stranger froze, his head lifting slightly, a reflex action that Charles was willing to let go unpunished.

“Who are you?” he growled softly. “What do you want?”

“I… I’m Ethan,” the intruder stammered.

Charles took a step back. “Turn around,” he snarled, seeing out of the corner of his eye as Emily lifted her head from the pillow and Margaret also woke, getting up and quickly leaving the room in the direction of Jarod's bedroom.

The young man slowly turned, keeping his hands in clear view.

“Step forward,” Charles directed, somewhat taken aback by the youth and casual dress of the man he now faced.

By now, having dealt with the Centre for so many years, he knew what to expect. They worked in a team, a group of sweepers going in first to clear the way. They used violence, not stealth. And younger people were always accompanied by older, more experienced sweepers, who were generally teaching them. If this young man was from the Centre, he should already have learned to kill anyone who got in the way of his target. As that had failed to happen, and so many of the other traditions had failed to be kept, Charles was wary.

“What do you want?” he asked again. “Who sent you?”

“My mother,” Ethan replied, a pucker of anxiety in his brow, his eyes fixed on the gun.

“And who’s that?”

Ethan sighed slightly. “Catherine Elaine Parker.”

Charles’ eyes narrowed instantly. “She’s dead.”

“I know.”

At this point, and just as Charles was wondering whether he was talking to a madman, Jarod entered the room.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

Charles was about to hand his son the gun when a familiar knock was heard on the door and the older man sighed with relief. “Let them in,” he directed. “And tell Nat to bring his laptop and digital camera.”

The young technician appeared an instant later, accompanied by Cici. At the same moment, Josh and Freya, who had shared Josh’s room, appeared in the doorway. The sight of so many people was clearly unnerving to Ethan, who turned pale, his eyes widening. Charles shot a look at him and ordered him to sit down. It would be no benefit to have him pass out.

“Check him out,” Charles sharply ordered Nat. “I want every detail you can find.”

Nat put down his bag and took out the small digital camera, snapping a photo of Ethan, who was an instant too late as he flinched away from the flash and had to blink rapidly afterwards to clear his vision.

Carrie was disturbed by the noise and began to cry. Charles half-turned as he heard shuffling footsteps, and Jarod crossed the floor to give Shannon a supporting arm over to the small bed. A moment later, the cries ceased, the young mother sat in a rocking chair that had been tucked into one corner and discreetly started to feed her child.

Looking back at his prisoner, Charles saw that Ethan’s eyes were fixed on Shannon. Something like recognition glowed in the blue depths. Seeming to feel his gaze, Shannon raised her head, but the small pucker that formed in her forehead and the look in her eyes told Charles that she had never seen this young man before.

An exclamation from Nat made Charles turn his gaze in that direction.

“What is it, Nat?”

The technician turned the screen of the laptop around. “Project Mirage,” he announced, and the older man saw that the photo was a younger version of the man on the sofa.

“Mirage?”

Shannon’s voice grabbed everyone’s attention, and they turned to her.

“You know about it?” Charles asked quickly.

“I know it’s obviously important,” the young woman replied. “A file about Mirage was among the list of file numbers I took from Emily, but it’s been taken out of the archives.”

Charles turned his gaze back to the young man, before glancing at his wife. “So it has something to do with us,” he murmured. Then he looked at Nat. “Find out everything you can about it,” he ordered. Then he directed Cici and Margaret to start making breakfast, with Josh, Emily and Sofia to help.

Jarod had sat down beside Nat and was helping him skim through the material. Shannon had just finished feeding her daughter and was changing her diaper. Charles sat down in an armchair close to the sofa, returning his gaze to the intruder.

“What did you want with the baby?” he asked softly.

“She told me about him,” Ethan replied. “She said it was important.”

“Catherine? How did she tell you anything? She’s dead. She’s been dead for years.”

“I don’t know ‘how’,” the young man replied, somewhat impatiently. “I just hear her voice in my head sometimes.”

Charles became aware that Shannon was once more looking at Ethan, but this time her face was alive with interest. She finished changing the baby and then came over to sit on the sofa.

“Tell me, Ethan,” she began gently. “What does she sound like?”

It took a moment for Charles to recognize the major problem with what Shannon had said. This young man’s name hadn’t been used since she had entered the room, and yet she’d just stated it confidently, as if she already knew him.

“How did you know?” he demanded, interrupting Ethan, who had just begun to talk. “How did you know his name, Prodge?”

Shannon smiled, a tiny, teasing smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, her eyes dancing. “Catherine told me.”

Charles stared at her, his jaw drooping. Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to stare at the people on the sofa, and the silence was so oppressive that Ethan glanced around uneasily before answering.

“She… she sounds like you,” he stammered.

The young woman nodded. “And you’re the family she promised me,” she said softly.

“Not just me,” Ethan protested, his eyes sliding down to the baby on her lap and then, much to Charles’ astonishment, to him. Ethan’s blue eyes studied his face for a moment before returning to Shannon’s features. “She told you.”

“Yes,” Shannon agreed. “She did.”

“All right,” Charles finally burst out, his curiosity at fever pitch and his patience exhausted. “Okay. Enough! Shannon, will you please tell me what on earth is going on?”

“I can tell you,” Nat interrupted, his eyes dancing, and Charles turned on him almost savagely.

“Then please do so,” he exclaimed with exaggerated politeness and a nasty undercurrent to his tone.

“It’s quite simple,” Nat said smoothly, waving a hand at the two young people on the sofa. “These are your children. Yours and Catherine Parker’s. Created by the Centre in the hope of making a Pretender who also has what seems to be known as an ‘Inner Sense’.”

Charles was struck dumb and his jaw drooped slightly open. The room was almost painfully silent as everyone apart from Shannon and Ethan stared in obvious disbelief at Nat. Shannon merely smiled and handed her baby daughter to her brother, who took it nervously. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder and looked at Charles, waiting for him to react.









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