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by Jackie
Disclaimer: Not mine. . .CVS, SML, NBC. . .no money being made. . .just for fun. . .yadda, yadda, yadda. . .Does anyone ever read these things anyway?
Author's Notes: First I liked it, then I hated it.
Finally, I posted it. . .
Rating: Ohhh, pretty. . .
Summary: Duh, it’s a sequel. . .to Secrets nimo433 bajar
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I quickly follow Sydney, calling for him to wait for me.
He either doesn’t here me or doesn’t care because he keeps up his fast pace until he reaches the elevator.
“I gave him what he wanted, Broots. I did it.”
Sydney sinks into a nearby chair and hangs his head.
“What?”
He gave *who* what he wanted? Mr. Parker?
Sydney looks up at me, his eyes flashing with anger.
“He was too much of a coward to tell her himself, he always has been. But in some twisted way he cares for her, so he wouldn’t let some cold, impersonal stranger tell her. He *knew, * damn him. He knew that I could not hide the truth from her for long. So, he bided his time, and he waited for me to do it for him. I knew what he was up to, I knew he was manipulating me. But-”
Sydney’s voice broke, and he looked away.
“I couldn’t keep it up. I couldn’t let her go on, indefinitely, believing that one day her paralysis would just go away.”
He looked up again and I saw the tears silently streaming down his face.
“After Catherine’s death, I practically raised that child. I was more of a father to her than that man.
I love her like she is my own. . .It killed me to tell her. . .”
I sat beside Sydney and awkwardly patted him on the back.
I wanted to say something to fix it, something to make it better for everyone. . . Sydney, Miss Parker, Jarod. . .If there was a price to pay, anything, just so I could make everything right with the people who I had come to care about. . .people I call friends, but who are really more like family. . .
I felt my own tears beginning to rise.
“I-I can’t protect them, Broots. There is nothing I can do to stop these things. . .I waited too long. . .”
I tried to speak, “Syd-”
“I used to be able to help them. . .Jarod and Parker. . .even if it was only little things. . .I comforted Parker after her mother died, I understood what that feels like. . . losing your family. But-,” Sydney’s voice cracked, “How do I help her with this? I am a psychiatrist, damn it. There should be *something* I can do. . .something to make her stop hurting. . .”
“Sydney,” I whisper, “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t pull the trigger. . .you couldn’t have known. You’re not a god, Sydney.”
He laughed; a sudden, harsh laugh that suprised me.
“No,” he said bitterly as he sprang from his chair and faced me, “I am not a god. I am a foolish old man. A foolish old man who was once a foolish *young* man.”
He stared into my eyes with an intensity that scared me.
“You are right about that, I am not a god. But you are also wrong, because it *is* my fault.”
Sydney was silent for a moment, then he turned and walked away.
Leaving me sitting alone and suprised. . .and scared.