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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.

1) Paper Snowflakes (the original, isn't a sequel)
2) To Dance In An English Garden
3) A Night To Remember
4) The Trick Is To Keep Breathing
5) Life In A Heartbeart
6) With Me (the last in the series)


With Me
4/8
By Orania Lemke



From the beginning of our times together, there has been an undeniable bond, a mutual feeling of trust and kindness. When I was alone, and experiencing fear that seemed almost inhuman, you would appear at my side, from the shadows of my mind, to hold me, to comfort and protect me during the worst trials of a lifetime. I have come to rely on you, and allowed you to become the soul I believed myself incapable of having.

The beginning of us was the mark of a journey, a long and frightful distance that we've travelled hand in hand. In times when hope seemed impossible, and faith was denied us by everyone but each other, we were able to endure anything. Through sheer will and love, we have survived. But now, I find myself once again without a soul, and forced to travel this last distance alone...

~~~~~~~~~

The sun would be up soon. Apparently, the old saying was true: the darkest hour is just before dawn. Parker stared blankly out into the black sky, dotted with stars and the occassional cloud brushing past. Her dark appearance was like a thick mist, covering her, separating her even more from the handful of other passengers on this plane. She wasn't with them, on a red-eye flight to Delaware. She was thousands of miles away, trapped in her mind, a devil and angel sitting on her shoulders, screaming orders to her one after the other, run-back-stay-where-you-are-beg-his-forgiveness-you-need-no-one-save-the-boy-never-betray-the-Centre orders that were scratching at her heart and soul; but her mind was made up, though her consciousness was all but gone. They had won. A single comfort: this was the only choice. A lie, she knew, and the easy way out, but admitting that would mean facing everything, and for Parker that was not an option.

The plane landed, the passengers rose. She stood too, and pushed hurriedly past them. Many raised eyebrows, a few even muttered rude comments, but she was oblivious to it all. That was the first true sign that Parker wasn't herself; anyone who knew her, would see her lack of reaction to their behavior and feel immediate concern.

Miss Parker was not herself.

~~~~~~~~~

The door was banging. Sydney rose groggily, unlocked the bedroom door, and had to jump out of the way as Jarod raced in like a run-away train, red-faced and fuming. He was yelling angrily, but it was his eyes that struck Syd—they were red, suggesting plenty of crying just previously, and had a look of betrayal and disbelief.

"--know about this?!" Jarod was demanding. Syd glanced at his clock. 2:38. Great, he'd wake up everyone with this.

"Jarod," Syd began in a patient, calm voice, "what is it? What's wrong?"

He stared at him in disbelief, than gave a sad, sarcastic laugh. "God, she didn't even tell you?! I don't believe this!" His voice was at a painfully loud tone now. He was clenching a piece of paper, waving his fists in the air. With a firm hand, Sydney grasped his shoulders, and shook the pretender until he finally stopped, and just stood staring at his old teacher.

"Listen to me, Jarod. Tell me what's wrong, tell me what's happened."

"She's gone." The lost whisper of an abandoned child. He grimaced, crumpled the paper even more, as his voice grew loud and angry once again. "Everything that we have been through! All of the suffering, and the pain, and the torture! Those people stole our childhoods, nearly killed her how many times, they destroy our families and our friends, they break our hearts and burn our souls! They ruin our lives, and nearly every bit of humanity left in us! Every world we have ever known as been turned into a hell because of them! Every angel that has ever gone in there, has either come out a demon, or in a body bag. Their only purpose is pain and manipulation and death. Everything is because of them! Everything...She writes a note, she walks out the door...And runs home to daddy."

The balled-up paper was thrown to the ground. For a painfully eternal moment, Jarod just stood, ragged breathing and shaking hands. Then, with an angry growl, he was gone.

Sydney stood where he was, trying to come to terms with what ad happened. He had just witnessed something, something that he'd seen a hundred times before in the Centre, but far more cruel now because it was Jarod experiencing it. He knew that look, that behavior. He knew those eyes...

Sydney had just witnessed the death of a man's last hope.

~~~~~~~~~

The cellphone rang. Parker, freshly showered, was slipping into her trenchcoat. She pulled the phone from her pocket, and activated it as she headed out the door.

"What?"

"So you're back."

"Nice to know perceptiveness runs in the family," she replied drily, unlocking her car.

"Enjoy your vacation?"

"Lyle, I'm not in the mood for one of our little sibling chats. You got something to say, then say it."

"Relax, just hoping for a little explanation."

"About?"

"Oh, come on, Parker. Sydney and Broots, two men completely uknown to the vacation lifestyle, are still gone, yet you return to work just hours after walking off a plane."

"Broots is back," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but still on leave." He snorted. "Something about quality time with his daughter." From the tone of his voice, the idea was obviously foreign to him.

"Look, their lives are none of my damn business. I'll be
back at the Centre in ten minutes. You wanna talk, we'll do it then." She slammed her phone shut, tossed it into the passenger seat, and sped off with a squeal of tires.

~~~~~~~~~

Broots looked up from his computer, and felt that familiar tinge of faint surprise at seeing Sydney, working at his desk like usual. It was so quiet around here, he was always sure that he was alone. Then, he'd look up, see Syd, and the same thought would go through his head: Oh yeah, he's here. Broots glanced at his watch, then the door expectantly. Parker had become predictable as clockwork lately; Syd had said something about it being a comfort to her.

The digital numbers changed to 8:45, and there was Parker, walking in with that air of self-assurance that now struck him as fake, not impressive. No one else saw it--the term "ice queen" was more popular than ever, but he knew that she'd changed. Even her expressive blue eyes were shielded. Broots shook his head at the thought. What a waste.

"Any sign of Frankenboy?" Cold, uninterested, but a brief flash of emotion in her eyes. Hope, maybe? Broots mused.

"Miss Parker, really." Again, predictable--she'd use some nickname for Jarod, and Sydney would be there giving her a disappointed look, reminding her how inappropriate it was.

"No, nothing today." And there was his answer, also the same predictable one. They hadn't found a hint of Jarod since their return. On that topic, Broots typed a command into his computer. On the screen, away from the other two's view, was a counter, patiently keeping track of the time since Parker's disappearance from the Seattle penthouse: two months, thirteen days.

"Stay on the look out, keep me updated, you know the drill." With a flap of her jacket, she spun on her heeled boots and walked back out. Silence refilled the room. Broots gave the stony Sydney an uncomfortable glance, then bent back over his computer and continued the search.

~~~~~~~~~

She sat in her office, with the lights off and the blinds shut. No sound, no movement, no thought. She just sat. Staring at the .9mm in her lap.

A knock at the door.

"Go away."

Lyle walked in, smirked at the atmosphere. "Meditating?"

"Get the hell out."

"Aw, come on, sis. Can't a brother talk to his sibling?"

"When the sibling is me, and the brother is a thumbless half-wit like yourself? I don't think so."

"Look at our current positions in the Centre heirarchy, sis," Lyle continued, more than a little ticked off. "I'm not someone you want to mess with."

"Wrong," she replied emotionlessly, wrapping her fingers around the weapon. "I'm someone you don't want to mess with." She turned and stood from the chair in one fluid motion. "Leave." She lifted the gun, aiming it point blank at his head. "Now."

"The drama queen," he grinned, shook his head.

She took a step towards him. "Whatever it takes to get my point across."

His grin faltered. "Fine, I can take a hint." A few curses under his breath, and he left. Parker returned to her seat, placed the Baretta back on her lap, and continued to stare,
completely mesmerized.

A sort of hazy contemplation began, but when it ended hours later, Parker wouldn't remember any of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Jarod sat in the cafe, a plate of now-cold food pushed to one side, untouched. In front of him was a piece of crumpled paper that looked as though it had been folded and unfolded many times. The note. Her note. He'd caught himself reaching for it countless times, chided himself for it, but more often than not he'd pull it out anyhow, and begin the useless process once again of scrutinizing every word.

The young waitress placed the bill on the table with a smile, and he started back to reality. She walked off to help someone else, and he found himself caught by her. Dark hair, bright eyes, a cheerful nature eminating from her as she joked with the customer. Frowning at his own behavior, Jarod tossed a few bills on the table and left the cafe. Outside, he wrapped his jacket closer around himself as the cold air hit him.

He wasn't sure why he was bothering to stand here thinking his actions over. In the end, he knew he'd go. Hell, he'd been staying in this town 20 miles from Blue Cove for the last damn week, struggling with the usual debate in vain: to see her or not to see her.

With a sigh, he unlocked his rental and got behind the wheel. There was no choice. He knew that. Maybe this was just something he had to get out of his system.

~~~~~~~~~

The drive home was always the worst. There was that unceasing stab of pain, as she was passing through the woods surrounding the Centre. It was dark, dense, and more menacing at times than anything the Centre could throw at her.

I wonder if mom felt anything when she drove here...

Her car turned a corner, and the headlights flashed against trees, shooting spooky mishapen shadows in every direction.

Jarod must've been terrified, escaping from the Centre through a place like this...

She was the only one on the road. People rarely went this way. It was so isolated, so frightenly isolated.

What if some patient escaped from the Centre... Another experiment, like Jarod... What if it was a little girl like Samantha...

Stop it! She shook her head, ordered herself again, but it didn't work. It was a horrible paranoia, and it wasn't going away. It always came; different thoughts each night, but it came just the same. And with it, as always, came the tears. A few warm tears slipping down her cheeks to begin with, but soon a flood gushing forward. She'd grip the wheel, pick up the speed, and weep at the futility of life.

~~~~~~~~~

She walked in, tears dried up and shoulders straight once again. She would need all her strength, to make it in this place. It wasn't like she actually lived here anymore; she came back, night after night, to this house, just to prove she could. There was a system to it now, a way of walking through with as little awareness as possible. She would walk through the house, into the bedroom, change, and duck under the covers. The next morning, she would wake up, shower, dress, and leave. Work was done at the Centre. Meals, when she actually remembered to eat, were done with speed, and without interest, at some nearby restaurant.

She pulled of her coat, bent down and draped it across the sofa, tossed her gun on top of it, straightened, turned--

--And came face to face with the mirror over the mantle.

It took a moment for Parker to even recognize herself. She wore her hair in a tight French twist every day now, and her makeup was even darker, but still in place despite the earlier crying. It was mesmerizing, seeing this person that was supposed to be her.

With a thoughtful gaze, she reached back and pulled the bobby pins out, one by one. A small shake of her head loosened the dark hair from it's knot, and it fell to rest at her shoulders. She looked closely again, expectantly.

No, still not right. She thought briefly of turning away, going ahead upstairs, but she couldn't do it. She continued to study her face, and was startled to see a reflection with watering eyes. Anger began to boil up in her. This was not what she had worked so hard for. She was not about to crumble.

A slap rang out in the empty room. Her cheek stung, her eyes continued to water. "Stop it," she hissed to herself. "Stop it! You are not weak!" Wet streaks were appearing on the reflection's cheeks, and her own felt moist. Another slap. "Stop it! You're a Parker, damn it! Don't cry! Parkers do not cry! You do not cry! You don't..." She faltered. "I shouldn't..." She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand and clenched her teeth, then stared straight into the mirror. "Your mother is dead. Your brother will be raised by the Centre. Jarod is gone. This is your life." She brushed back more tears, then grabbed the gun and faced the reflection once again, holding the weapon close to the glass. "And this...is your fate."

The reflection's eyes looked pained. They looked pained and terrified and utterly lost. "I can't do this..." With a disgusted cry she threw the gun to the ground. A shot echoed, as the bullet richoted, racing right back at her, and barely missing. There was the sound of shattering glass, and a framed picture of young Parker with her mother fell to the ground. Trembling she knelt down, and through the broken shards touched the black-and-white photo with one finger.

"You're my daughter. I'll always love you."

"Jarod, I want to tell you a secret."

She frowned. Stupid memories, just stupid, pointless memories.

"Mama? Mama!"

"Let me go, they're hurting her!"

She stood up, and began to pace around the living room, shaking her head.

"It's time for my angel to shine."

"Your brother, Lyle..."

"One of us has to stop him."

Nothing was working. So much pain, and yet more thoughts flooding forward. God, why wouldn't they stop?!

"Where do we go from here?"

"God forgives. I don't."

Slapping her head, stamping her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs. Nothing was working. She couldn't avoid it anymore.

"What if they win?"

"Welcome back, Miss Parker."

Suddenly more exhausted than she had ever been before. Parker sat down on the edge of the windowseat, looked around and realized with shock that everything was on the floor, broken into a thousand pieces. Wooden splinters, ceramic shards...

"The Centre does not accept mistakes."

"Everyone is expendable."

She stood, felt dizzy. Her face was soaked, tears were dripping onto the floor.

"His freedom for mine."

Sobbing, she collapsed.

~~~~~~~~~

Jarod tiptoed along the side of the house. All the lights were out; then again, it was three in the morning.

Inside, Parker had woken up less than an hour ago. She had only enough strength to walk over and flick of the living room light; too weary to make it to the bedroom, she'd curled up on the windowseat. Looking outside, through the trees, she'd spotted their star, Hope. A small, weak smile played across her lips at the name.

She'd fallen asleep on the windowseat, leaning against the window, with one hand pressed against the glass as if grasping at a heavenly body.

That was how he found her. Jarod was startled to look into the window, and find himself face to face with the sleeping form of Miss Parker. For the longest time, he just stood, and stared, afraid to look away or blink, in case she disappeared. Her hand was against the glass, and some sudden thought brought his own hand up. A pause of hesitation, then he pressed his palm against the windowpane, so that their hands met in perfect form. He closed his eyes, imagined really feeling her soft fingertips. He would've given anything in that moment to feel her.

Parker stirred in her dreams. She felt warm suddenly. Half awake, half dreaming, she had the instinct that the warmth was from Jarod. Her eyes flew open, and she looked out the window.

But Jarod was gone, already walking quietly down the road.









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