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This fanfic is written purely for entertainment and promotion of my favorite show, The Pretender. I am merely borrowing the characters from the TV show owned by Pretender Productions, MTM, TNT, FOX, and NBC, I think. All other fictional characters not appearing on the Pretender are mine. I don’t own the Profiler, either. Since it’s cancellation, I don’t know who owns it. Please don’t sue me, as I have no money!
This story takes place in the first 5-7 weeks after Donoterase. Please start with part 1.
The AVCTF operation specialists work into the night, while Bailey, Sam, George, Jon, Joe and Gemini call it a night. Meanwhile, at the Centre, the top dogs have gone home for the night and the prisoners can finally get some rest. It’s now barely early morning, their last day at the Centre. Yet, evil is lurking in the shadows. Aug. 3, 2000
In Pursuit Of Happiness
Part 22
by jojarod50
Centre Infirmary
3:20 AM
A dark figure slipped through the swinging doors and into the dimly lit room. The infirmary was deathly still aside from the quiet beeping of various medical monitors and the occasional snoring or coughing of patients occupying rooms on the ward adjacent to it. There was little to do this time of night and the medical staff assigned to the graveyard shift had congregated in the break room trying to relieve the monotony that went with the job.
Filled with anticipation, the dark figure made his way to room 105, Jarod’s room.
He had arranged for the sweepers to be gone, and like loyal subjects, they had obliged him. After all, he is the Chairman’s son, and not someone to be questioned.
*
Room 105
Entering the pretender’s room, Lyle stepped up to his bed and slipped a razor blade wrapped in a cloth out of his pocket. He stood quietly for a moment enjoying the even breathing of his unsuspecting victim, who he ordered to be sedated at 1:00 AM in preparation of what he planned to do.
Looking at the still form, he paused, imagining the repercussions that would befall the psyche-patient, after an attempted suicide. Yes, the cloning project would be put on hold for a little while, but they would make the pretender do it eventually. And no more plush studio accommodations, just a demeaning padded cell. The project delays would probably be minimal, but would leave his father in a precarious position, for failing to keep Gemini III on track. He’d like to see the Triumvirate’s faces, when they discovered his father was using a mental patient as the chief molecular biochemist and embryologist on the project.
Just what he deserves for putting own flesh and blood in renewal wing and treating him like a bastard son. He’d be damned if he were going to be extra baggage to be farmed out to Africa after successfully recapturing his precious pretender. Maybe it would be his beloved father making the trip instead. An easy smile spread across his face.
Holding Jarod’s wrist in the dim light, Lyle admired the deep scaring caused by the metal restraints he had worn while writhing in agony; agony he had deserved for withholding information pertaining to Gemini and the stolen DSAs.
If only you had broken down and answered my questions, I might not have given you the hallucinogen overdose. But no, you never learn, do you Jarod. I really enjoyed watching you go off the deep end, he thought, closing his eyes and playing it over in his mind.
A few moments later, he got down to the business at hand. Snapping on a latex glove, he deftly wielded the blade, and in one stroke it was done.
Shocked into a semblance of consciousness, Jarod jerked his throbbing wrist away. Driven by pure instinct, he lurched on the other man, holding him tightly, as both of them tumbled into the bedside table. The table was sent flying, as they fell hard onto the floor, the aggressor landing on top.
Taking advantage of the situation, Lyle make short work of pinning the disoriented man down, while struggling to retrieve the blade which was just out of reach.
Jarod fought to stay focused on his attacker, his vision bleary and body limp and unresponsive.
Lyle finished the job viciously, as the pretender bucked hard, finally twisting onto his side. The dark figure lost his balance, cutting his hand badly in the process, as the other man wriggled loose. Both of them were slick with blood and sweat.
Making it to his feet before Jarod did, Lyle pulled out his gun and knocked the other man out, angry he had to resort to that. He carefully positioned the blade just beyond the pretender’s hand, then quickly rearranged his body to look like he had fallen, hitting his head on the floor.
Leaving the room, he turned back to make sure no blood was on the soles of his shoes. Satisfied, he hurried out the back door at the end of the hallway, before anyone was the wiser.
His bleeding hand he had shoved into his pocket was throbbing in pain; pain that would be well worth it, he thought, if they buy Jarod’s attempted suicide. He was totally infuriated at the imbecile who inadequately sedated his prey, but he would have to deal with that later. He would have to be at work at 8:00 and needed to do something quickly about his wound.
*
Room 103
Broots looked around the room sleepily, puzzling why he had been left alone. Shaking his groggy head, he listening again for more noises coming from Jarod’s room but heard only silence.
He had overheard some of the staff talking about Jarod and how he had collapsed from exhaustion, while preparing for a sim. They said something about having a gun held to his father’s head as incentive, may have pushed him over the edge.
If anyone were going to enjoy the Centre being shut down for good, it would have to be Jarod. Broots felt a thrill of excitement just thinking about all of them finally having their freedom. He could go back to just being a normal father for Debbie, having a normal job, and a normal life. He did wonder, though, if he would ever see Miss Parker again.
Surveying his empty room, he quietly got out of bed and nervously peeked into the hallway. If Jarod was awake, he could at least let him know he was in the next room and maybe say something to cheer him up. Glancing at the clock he made his mind up and headed to Jarod’s room, thinking no one should say up alone all night.
*
Room 105
Broots gasped as he entered the room, seeing Jarod on the floor by the bed partially covered in blood. The aluminum bedside table, he had heard crash, was on its side near by.
Seeing no sweeper in his room either, Broots ran to the fire alarm in the hallway and pulled it hard. The technician returned quickly to Jarod’s side trying to stop the intermittent streams of blood coming from his wrists, as the blaring alarm echoed in his ears.
The lounge emptied quickly and finally some medical personnel arrived. Moments later, Jarod was the focus of everyone’s attention, as a doctor directed orderlies to hoist him onto a gurney and had him whisked into the operating room near by.
Broots was escorted back to his room under heavy guard, as several sweepers secured the area. No one had even questioned him, and he wondered if they might think he had hurt Jarod. He had never thought in his wildest dreams, that Jarod would do something like that.
* * *
Centre
Recovery Room 1a
5:09AM
“I don’t care what orders you’ve been given,” Dr. Meisser said hotly to the sweepers, “I want both of you out of here now.”
“We only take orders from the head of security. Take it up with him,” the burley man said, pulling his dark suit coat back slightly to reveal his weapon.
Shaking his head in disgust, the psychiatrist placed his chart on a small table, as he sat down beside his patient.
“Jarod, it’s your doctor,” Dr. Meisser said softly, feeling horrible he hadn’t seen this coming.
Jarod slowly opened his eyes and turned his head slightly toward the voice, grimacing at the painful movement.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not…so…good,” he whispered, still oozy from the effects of the anesthetic and feeling intense pain from his head and wrists.
“Yeah, I imagine so,” his doctor said sadly, sickened knowing he’d almost succeeded in taking his life.
“A nurse will be in here momentarily, to give you something for the pain,” he reassured him, picking up the chart and glancing at it to make sure the right pain medication had been ordered.
“Jarod, I need to talk with you about what you did,” he said gently, giving his arm a little squeeze.
“Umm, hard…to think,” he said closing his eyes for a moment, feeling an over powering urge to go back to sleep.
“Just take your time. I want to understand what happened to you.”
“There was a man…someone…it was dark. I tried…to stop…him.”
“You’re saying someone else did this to you?” the psychiatrist clarified, concerned by his apparent denial.
“So…tired. Can I…go…to sleep…now?”
“In a moment, Jarod. Look, I know things have been living hell for you most of your life. I can’t imagine anyone surviving what you’ve had to endure without severe emotional consequences. I’m not here to judge you. I just want you to be honest with me. If I can’t help you work through this, I’m afraid you’re going to want to try it again.”
“Never…would…never…give up,” he whispered. “Someone…did this,” he mumbled, too tired to debate it, closing his eyes and falling asleep.
Dr. Meisser sat quietly beside the still form, considering what his patient had just said. He couldn’t decide whether Jarod was so riddled with guilt, that he transferred the blame on to an imaginary foe, or if he were telling the truth. For once, he was relieved that his patient would be heavily guarded, but what had happened last night? He had ordered round-the-clock care for Jarod and they had left him completely alone. Why would they do that?
Picking up the chart, he jotted down some notes, nodding amiably at the nurse who arrived to give Jarod his shot. He was anxious to speak with him again when the anesthesia wore off.
Glancing at his watch, he decided to do some investigating, starting with the room where the tragedy occurred. If there were someone else involved, surely there would be evidence of some kind to support that.
Stopping by the doctor’s lounge, he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed on out. Hell of a thing to have happen, just hours before we pull them out, the agent thought, wrestling with guilt of his own. At least he’ll be able to walk out on his own.
* * *
Mr. Parker’s Office
Friday 6:00 AM
“Well, Mr. Baker, why don’t you personally bring the surveillance feed from Jarod’s room to my office right now. We’re all just sitting around here wondering who would be so bold as to argue with a direct request from their superiors.”
“But, I’m telling you, it’s gone.”
“Well, you just may be too, Mr.,” Mr. Parker said slamming down the phone.
“Willie, handle it,” Mr. Parker ordered. “And question the sweepers assigned to Jarod’s room last night, ASAP. I want to know why the pretender was left alone and exactly how he was able to get a hold of a razor blade and mutilate himself without anyone knowing it.”
“Yes Sir.”
Mr. Parker hit the receptionist button and ordered her to send Dr. Meisser and Dr. Grackle up to his office immediately. Severing the connection, he glanced over at Big Mutumbo, who was on a separate line in the adjoining office, having a heated conversation with the Tower.
Stepping over to the wet bar, Parker poured himself a stiff drink, noticing his hands were slightly shaking. Can’t have a Parker lose his nerve, no sir, he said to himself, as he took a deep breath and returned to his desk. He knew he was in trouble with the tower and most likely the Triumvarate, too. It was going to take some fancy footwork to get out of this one, but he always had a few aces up his sleeve. He took a big swig of his drink as he heard Mutumbo hang up the phone, steeling himself for what was coming next.
“The tower wants you to proceed with the project, and expects you to have Jarod up and running by sometime this afternoon. They feel confident that the pretender can perform, despite his slight injuries, if the doctors handle him properly. His doctor is expected to get him through today, and then, he’ll have the weekend to straighten him out. Gemini will proceed as scheduled on Monday.”
“Damn,” Mr. Parker breathed letting out a big sigh. “That’s a tough one, isn’t it.”
“It’s either that or something a lot tougher,” Mutumbo stated pointedly threatening the chairman.
“Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ll handle it,” he said hearing a knock on the door. “Come in.”
The secretary peeked in the door. “Sir, Dr. Meisser and Grackle are here now.”
“Send them in.”
*
“Sit down,” Mr. Parker said gruffly, skipping the formalities. “What the hell happened? I left you two in charge of the pretender and he nearly killed himself. You better believe heads are going to roll for this one, and sure as hell none of them are going to be mine! Meisser, you’re his psychiatrist, why the hell did you let this happen?”
“I did everything in my extremely limited power to protect Jarod, but things were just too far out of my control. There was absolutely too much thrown at him all at once and he didn’t have time to adjust. More importantly, there was a complete failure of superiors to recognize his precarious mental state, after repeated warnings from me. I’m convinced it was the cloning project that pushed him over the edge. That and the way his father was used to manipulate him. I left orders for him to be watched round the clock,” he said pausing as if lost in thought. “I don’t understand what happened. How much did anyone expect him to endure?”
“You better watch where you’re pointing that finger, doctor,” Mr. Parker said angrily, knowing full well that everything he was saying was true.
“Grackle, the pretender was on your ward. Why the hell was he left alone during the time in question? You sure as hell know better than that. My God, man, we’re talking about the pretender here, not non-essential personnel. That whole ward was completely abandoned. If it weren’t for Mr. Broots, Jarod would be wearing a toe tag by now.”
“I was just looking into that before you had me whisked away from the infirmary. There seem to have been some cross up in orders later last night, but I don’t have the particulars yet.”
“Another thing I’m in the dark on, is why Jarod was on that ward in the first place instead of in his room. You should have notified me. Would anyone care to enlighten me?”
“He was being treated for exhaustion. I tried to call you, but you had already gone home. I sent a memo to your office; it should be somewhere on your desk. I really don’t understand this. In the shape he was in, he should have slept entirely through the night.”
“Exhaustion, huh, well, Dr. Meisser, you and Grackle have until this afternoon to get the pretender ready for the cloning session scheduled for today. Do what ever it takes to get him up and running, and then he can have the weekend to relax. You’re dismissed.”
“This is outrageous! There’s no way I’m going to comply with this,” Meisser said getting up suddenly, while Grackle sat there watching him in amazement.
“I’m afraid you don’t have any choice. These orders come from the Tower. If you don’t follow them precisely, you may be wearing a toe tag yourself. End of discussion.”
“Sam, escort the doctors back to their offices and I want you to shadow Jarod today.”
“Yes sir. Ok, let’s go.”
* * *
Centre Infirmary
Room 105
2:35 PM
“Sam, what the?” Jarod breathed, totally startled by the sweeper staring down at him, just inches from his face.
“Jarod! You, um, were, um, seemed to be struggling…I was afraid you were having trouble breathing or something,” the sweeper said blushing, as he quickly distanced himself from the other man.
“Well, Sam, I didn’t know you cared,” Jarod said, playing off the other man’s embarrassment.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” the sweeper asked in a warning tone, watching the pretender struggling to get himself upright, without using his hands for leverage.
“Come on, Sam. Where do you think I’m going?” he shot back, sick of having no privacy. “Into the bathroom to look for another razor blade.”
“That’s enough of that, Jarod. Here let me help you,” he said reaching for his arm to steady him.
Jarod angrily tore it away. “The last time someone did that, I ended up with slit wrists.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you know where Lyle was last night?”
“No, why?”
“I think I do,” the pretender said, as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.
*
“Where’s Jarod?” Dr. Meisser asked, glancing around when he entered the room.
“In there.”
“Sam, what do you make of this?” he said tossing a wadded up bloody glove on Jarod’s bed, just as the pretender came back on the scene.
The sweeper picked up the glove and unfolding it. After glancing at it, he slowly met the doctor’s eyes.
“Where did you get this?”
“Get what?” Jarod asked joining the huddle.
“I found this crammed against one of the wheels under the bed in room 105.”
“But I thought…how did you know, Jarod?” the sweeper asked, passing it to him.
Jarod’s face twisted into controlled rage, as he looked at the bloody thumbless glove.
“It just made sense. Sadistic revenge. There were just too many ways he’d benefit and he was the only one I knew sick enough to do it.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Sam said clicking off his safety.
Jarod raised his hands and slowly turned around, stunned to find himself half way out the door.
“I, um, didn’t mean to do that, Sam, but maybe you can take a shot at me later,” he said sarcastically.
“You just better watch what you’re doing, genius before you get yourself killed.”
Jarod’s eyes narrowed at that comment, but didn’t reply.
“I don’t understand. I thought you put Mr. Lyle out of commission, the first night you were here,” Dr. Messier said, pretending to look skeptically at Jarod.
“That’s what Mr. Parker wanted everyone to think. I overheard a conversation he had with Lyle, when I was taken to his office for questioning about Miss Parker. That psychopath was in charge of the sweeper team sent to retrieve Gemini. Thank God he didn’t manage that.”
The agent had to play it dumb to keep up his front. He already knew that Bailey and Jon had Lyle under surveillance and were going to pick him up at around 6:30, when most of the principles went home for the day. Glancing at the clock, he smiled inwardly, counting only 4 more hours to go. The trick would be getting Jarod through his 3-hour meeting, without him getting himself in any trouble. And judging by his weakened state and extreme anger, that was probably going to be tricky.
“Jarod, you need to save your strength. Why don’t you come back here and sit down? I need to have a talk with you before your 3:30 meeting. I’ve arranged for Sydney to see you for a little bit. He really can’t be up very long, but he was very insistent. If nothing else, your situation last night has won me more latitude concerning your care,” the doctor said with a wane smile, watching the young man return to his bed.
* * *
Mr. Parker’s Office
2:47 PM
Mutumbo looked up from the surveillance monitor and gave Mr. Parker a look that could kill.
“What the hell is this? You fool! You’ve just hung yourself with this one, and I’m going to stand there and watch you swing. Where is Lyle?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t come in today.”
“Well, you better have someone find him. And while you’re at it, you just better pray that Jarod is able to function properly during his session this afternoon or I’m going to personally turn you over to the Triumvirate before the sun goes down,” he said before slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Renewal Wing
Cell # 16
2:50 PM
“What the hell do you want, Lyle? You little snake in the grass.”
“Now, now. Is that anyway to talk to your brother? I just thought I’d drop by and let you know your boyfriend tried to kill himself last night. I guess you really didn’t mean that much to him after all.”
“Boyfriend? Fat chance, Lyle. Sorry to disappoint you. Why don’t you go somewhere else to get your jollies, you sick little worm.”
“They said he almost bled to death before anyone found him. Not the neatest way to go; slitting your wrists.”
“Get out of here, before someone finds you and puts you back in your cage.”
“Suit yourself, Sis. I don’t know why I thought he meant something to you. If he makes it, I’ll be sure to let him know,” he said with his designer smile, then headed down the corridor to have some fun with Jarod’s father.
“There’s no way I’m related to you, Lyle. You have no soul,” Miss Parker whispered as she shut her eyes, fighting to hold back her tears. “My God, Jarod, please let it not be true.”
* * *
Jarod’s old room
3:11 PM
“Jarod, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Sydney said taking in the sight of the haggard looking young man sprawled on the bed.
“Sydney, I’m glad you came. I um must have fallen asleep. How are you feeling? They told me you were shot,” Jarod said, managing to sit up without drawing attention to his injuries.
“I’m fine, Jarod. I just have to take it rather slowly. I’m much more interested in how you are. Do your wrists hurt very much?”
“Not as much as Lyle will when I get my hands on him.”
“You sound extremely angry, Jarod. You’re going to have to get a hold of yourself, you know.”
“Angry? That’s an understatement. I’m so angry I can’t see straight.”
“You’re reaction is perfectly understandable, but don’t let it get the best of you. Dr. Meisser told me they’re using your father, to make you prepare for Gemini III.”
“Yes,” he said, running his trembling fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture Sydney had seen so many times.
“I can’t begin to fathom the stress you are under. I’m truly sorry. Jarod, what happened to you at the end of your session last night?”
“I don’t know,” Jarod said shaking his head slowly, “I just don’t know.”
“They’re going to allow Dr. Meisser to be with you tonight. Promise me you’ll tell him to pull you out if you get into trouble again. From what I’ve heard, you may have had a break with reality. I thought that you would want to know,” Sydney said giving him a look concern. “You’re very special, Jarod. Don’t allow them to push you too far.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Sorry to break this up, but Raines and the Geneticists will be here any moment. Three more hours and then we’ll be all done,” he said, giving both of them a knowing look.
“Very good. Remember what I said, Jarod.”
“Thank you Sydney.”
“Ok, Dr. Green, it’s time for you to go,” Sam said, lifting the break and pushing him out of the room.”
This story takes place in the first 5-7 weeks after Donoterase. Please start with part 1.
The AVCTF operation specialists work into the night, while Bailey, Sam, George, Jon, Joe and Gemini call it a night. Meanwhile, at the Centre, the top dogs have gone home for the night and the prisoners can finally get some rest. It’s now barely early morning, their last day at the Centre. Yet, evil is lurking in the shadows. Aug. 3, 2000
Part 22
by jojarod50
Centre Infirmary
3:20 AM
A dark figure slipped through the swinging doors and into the dimly lit room. The infirmary was deathly still aside from the quiet beeping of various medical monitors and the occasional snoring or coughing of patients occupying rooms on the ward adjacent to it. There was little to do this time of night and the medical staff assigned to the graveyard shift had congregated in the break room trying to relieve the monotony that went with the job.
Filled with anticipation, the dark figure made his way to room 105, Jarod’s room.
He had arranged for the sweepers to be gone, and like loyal subjects, they had obliged him. After all, he is the Chairman’s son, and not someone to be questioned.
*
Room 105
Entering the pretender’s room, Lyle stepped up to his bed and slipped a razor blade wrapped in a cloth out of his pocket. He stood quietly for a moment enjoying the even breathing of his unsuspecting victim, who he ordered to be sedated at 1:00 AM in preparation of what he planned to do.
Looking at the still form, he paused, imagining the repercussions that would befall the psyche-patient, after an attempted suicide. Yes, the cloning project would be put on hold for a little while, but they would make the pretender do it eventually. And no more plush studio accommodations, just a demeaning padded cell. The project delays would probably be minimal, but would leave his father in a precarious position, for failing to keep Gemini III on track. He’d like to see the Triumvirate’s faces, when they discovered his father was using a mental patient as the chief molecular biochemist and embryologist on the project.
Just what he deserves for putting own flesh and blood in renewal wing and treating him like a bastard son. He’d be damned if he were going to be extra baggage to be farmed out to Africa after successfully recapturing his precious pretender. Maybe it would be his beloved father making the trip instead. An easy smile spread across his face.
Holding Jarod’s wrist in the dim light, Lyle admired the deep scaring caused by the metal restraints he had worn while writhing in agony; agony he had deserved for withholding information pertaining to Gemini and the stolen DSAs.
If only you had broken down and answered my questions, I might not have given you the hallucinogen overdose. But no, you never learn, do you Jarod. I really enjoyed watching you go off the deep end, he thought, closing his eyes and playing it over in his mind.
A few moments later, he got down to the business at hand. Snapping on a latex glove, he deftly wielded the blade, and in one stroke it was done.
Shocked into a semblance of consciousness, Jarod jerked his throbbing wrist away. Driven by pure instinct, he lurched on the other man, holding him tightly, as both of them tumbled into the bedside table. The table was sent flying, as they fell hard onto the floor, the aggressor landing on top.
Taking advantage of the situation, Lyle make short work of pinning the disoriented man down, while struggling to retrieve the blade which was just out of reach.
Jarod fought to stay focused on his attacker, his vision bleary and body limp and unresponsive.
Lyle finished the job viciously, as the pretender bucked hard, finally twisting onto his side. The dark figure lost his balance, cutting his hand badly in the process, as the other man wriggled loose. Both of them were slick with blood and sweat.
Making it to his feet before Jarod did, Lyle pulled out his gun and knocked the other man out, angry he had to resort to that. He carefully positioned the blade just beyond the pretender’s hand, then quickly rearranged his body to look like he had fallen, hitting his head on the floor.
Leaving the room, he turned back to make sure no blood was on the soles of his shoes. Satisfied, he hurried out the back door at the end of the hallway, before anyone was the wiser.
His bleeding hand he had shoved into his pocket was throbbing in pain; pain that would be well worth it, he thought, if they buy Jarod’s attempted suicide. He was totally infuriated at the imbecile who inadequately sedated his prey, but he would have to deal with that later. He would have to be at work at 8:00 and needed to do something quickly about his wound.
*
Room 103
Broots looked around the room sleepily, puzzling why he had been left alone. Shaking his groggy head, he listening again for more noises coming from Jarod’s room but heard only silence.
He had overheard some of the staff talking about Jarod and how he had collapsed from exhaustion, while preparing for a sim. They said something about having a gun held to his father’s head as incentive, may have pushed him over the edge.
If anyone were going to enjoy the Centre being shut down for good, it would have to be Jarod. Broots felt a thrill of excitement just thinking about all of them finally having their freedom. He could go back to just being a normal father for Debbie, having a normal job, and a normal life. He did wonder, though, if he would ever see Miss Parker again.
Surveying his empty room, he quietly got out of bed and nervously peeked into the hallway. If Jarod was awake, he could at least let him know he was in the next room and maybe say something to cheer him up. Glancing at the clock he made his mind up and headed to Jarod’s room, thinking no one should say up alone all night.
*
Room 105
Broots gasped as he entered the room, seeing Jarod on the floor by the bed partially covered in blood. The aluminum bedside table, he had heard crash, was on its side near by.
Seeing no sweeper in his room either, Broots ran to the fire alarm in the hallway and pulled it hard. The technician returned quickly to Jarod’s side trying to stop the intermittent streams of blood coming from his wrists, as the blaring alarm echoed in his ears.
The lounge emptied quickly and finally some medical personnel arrived. Moments later, Jarod was the focus of everyone’s attention, as a doctor directed orderlies to hoist him onto a gurney and had him whisked into the operating room near by.
Broots was escorted back to his room under heavy guard, as several sweepers secured the area. No one had even questioned him, and he wondered if they might think he had hurt Jarod. He had never thought in his wildest dreams, that Jarod would do something like that.
* * *
Centre
Recovery Room 1a
5:09AM
“I don’t care what orders you’ve been given,” Dr. Meisser said hotly to the sweepers, “I want both of you out of here now.”
“We only take orders from the head of security. Take it up with him,” the burley man said, pulling his dark suit coat back slightly to reveal his weapon.
Shaking his head in disgust, the psychiatrist placed his chart on a small table, as he sat down beside his patient.
“Jarod, it’s your doctor,” Dr. Meisser said softly, feeling horrible he hadn’t seen this coming.
Jarod slowly opened his eyes and turned his head slightly toward the voice, grimacing at the painful movement.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not…so…good,” he whispered, still oozy from the effects of the anesthetic and feeling intense pain from his head and wrists.
“Yeah, I imagine so,” his doctor said sadly, sickened knowing he’d almost succeeded in taking his life.
“A nurse will be in here momentarily, to give you something for the pain,” he reassured him, picking up the chart and glancing at it to make sure the right pain medication had been ordered.
“Jarod, I need to talk with you about what you did,” he said gently, giving his arm a little squeeze.
“Umm, hard…to think,” he said closing his eyes for a moment, feeling an over powering urge to go back to sleep.
“Just take your time. I want to understand what happened to you.”
“There was a man…someone…it was dark. I tried…to stop…him.”
“You’re saying someone else did this to you?” the psychiatrist clarified, concerned by his apparent denial.
“So…tired. Can I…go…to sleep…now?”
“In a moment, Jarod. Look, I know things have been living hell for you most of your life. I can’t imagine anyone surviving what you’ve had to endure without severe emotional consequences. I’m not here to judge you. I just want you to be honest with me. If I can’t help you work through this, I’m afraid you’re going to want to try it again.”
“Never…would…never…give up,” he whispered. “Someone…did this,” he mumbled, too tired to debate it, closing his eyes and falling asleep.
Dr. Meisser sat quietly beside the still form, considering what his patient had just said. He couldn’t decide whether Jarod was so riddled with guilt, that he transferred the blame on to an imaginary foe, or if he were telling the truth. For once, he was relieved that his patient would be heavily guarded, but what had happened last night? He had ordered round-the-clock care for Jarod and they had left him completely alone. Why would they do that?
Picking up the chart, he jotted down some notes, nodding amiably at the nurse who arrived to give Jarod his shot. He was anxious to speak with him again when the anesthesia wore off.
Glancing at his watch, he decided to do some investigating, starting with the room where the tragedy occurred. If there were someone else involved, surely there would be evidence of some kind to support that.
Stopping by the doctor’s lounge, he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed on out. Hell of a thing to have happen, just hours before we pull them out, the agent thought, wrestling with guilt of his own. At least he’ll be able to walk out on his own.
* * *
Mr. Parker’s Office
Friday 6:00 AM
“Well, Mr. Baker, why don’t you personally bring the surveillance feed from Jarod’s room to my office right now. We’re all just sitting around here wondering who would be so bold as to argue with a direct request from their superiors.”
“But, I’m telling you, it’s gone.”
“Well, you just may be too, Mr.,” Mr. Parker said slamming down the phone.
“Willie, handle it,” Mr. Parker ordered. “And question the sweepers assigned to Jarod’s room last night, ASAP. I want to know why the pretender was left alone and exactly how he was able to get a hold of a razor blade and mutilate himself without anyone knowing it.”
“Yes Sir.”
Mr. Parker hit the receptionist button and ordered her to send Dr. Meisser and Dr. Grackle up to his office immediately. Severing the connection, he glanced over at Big Mutumbo, who was on a separate line in the adjoining office, having a heated conversation with the Tower.
Stepping over to the wet bar, Parker poured himself a stiff drink, noticing his hands were slightly shaking. Can’t have a Parker lose his nerve, no sir, he said to himself, as he took a deep breath and returned to his desk. He knew he was in trouble with the tower and most likely the Triumvarate, too. It was going to take some fancy footwork to get out of this one, but he always had a few aces up his sleeve. He took a big swig of his drink as he heard Mutumbo hang up the phone, steeling himself for what was coming next.
“The tower wants you to proceed with the project, and expects you to have Jarod up and running by sometime this afternoon. They feel confident that the pretender can perform, despite his slight injuries, if the doctors handle him properly. His doctor is expected to get him through today, and then, he’ll have the weekend to straighten him out. Gemini will proceed as scheduled on Monday.”
“Damn,” Mr. Parker breathed letting out a big sigh. “That’s a tough one, isn’t it.”
“It’s either that or something a lot tougher,” Mutumbo stated pointedly threatening the chairman.
“Don’t you dare threaten me. I’ll handle it,” he said hearing a knock on the door. “Come in.”
The secretary peeked in the door. “Sir, Dr. Meisser and Grackle are here now.”
“Send them in.”
*
“Sit down,” Mr. Parker said gruffly, skipping the formalities. “What the hell happened? I left you two in charge of the pretender and he nearly killed himself. You better believe heads are going to roll for this one, and sure as hell none of them are going to be mine! Meisser, you’re his psychiatrist, why the hell did you let this happen?”
“I did everything in my extremely limited power to protect Jarod, but things were just too far out of my control. There was absolutely too much thrown at him all at once and he didn’t have time to adjust. More importantly, there was a complete failure of superiors to recognize his precarious mental state, after repeated warnings from me. I’m convinced it was the cloning project that pushed him over the edge. That and the way his father was used to manipulate him. I left orders for him to be watched round the clock,” he said pausing as if lost in thought. “I don’t understand what happened. How much did anyone expect him to endure?”
“You better watch where you’re pointing that finger, doctor,” Mr. Parker said angrily, knowing full well that everything he was saying was true.
“Grackle, the pretender was on your ward. Why the hell was he left alone during the time in question? You sure as hell know better than that. My God, man, we’re talking about the pretender here, not non-essential personnel. That whole ward was completely abandoned. If it weren’t for Mr. Broots, Jarod would be wearing a toe tag by now.”
“I was just looking into that before you had me whisked away from the infirmary. There seem to have been some cross up in orders later last night, but I don’t have the particulars yet.”
“Another thing I’m in the dark on, is why Jarod was on that ward in the first place instead of in his room. You should have notified me. Would anyone care to enlighten me?”
“He was being treated for exhaustion. I tried to call you, but you had already gone home. I sent a memo to your office; it should be somewhere on your desk. I really don’t understand this. In the shape he was in, he should have slept entirely through the night.”
“Exhaustion, huh, well, Dr. Meisser, you and Grackle have until this afternoon to get the pretender ready for the cloning session scheduled for today. Do what ever it takes to get him up and running, and then he can have the weekend to relax. You’re dismissed.”
“This is outrageous! There’s no way I’m going to comply with this,” Meisser said getting up suddenly, while Grackle sat there watching him in amazement.
“I’m afraid you don’t have any choice. These orders come from the Tower. If you don’t follow them precisely, you may be wearing a toe tag yourself. End of discussion.”
“Sam, escort the doctors back to their offices and I want you to shadow Jarod today.”
“Yes sir. Ok, let’s go.”
* * *
Centre Infirmary
Room 105
2:35 PM
“Sam, what the?” Jarod breathed, totally startled by the sweeper staring down at him, just inches from his face.
“Jarod! You, um, were, um, seemed to be struggling…I was afraid you were having trouble breathing or something,” the sweeper said blushing, as he quickly distanced himself from the other man.
“Well, Sam, I didn’t know you cared,” Jarod said, playing off the other man’s embarrassment.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” the sweeper asked in a warning tone, watching the pretender struggling to get himself upright, without using his hands for leverage.
“Come on, Sam. Where do you think I’m going?” he shot back, sick of having no privacy. “Into the bathroom to look for another razor blade.”
“That’s enough of that, Jarod. Here let me help you,” he said reaching for his arm to steady him.
Jarod angrily tore it away. “The last time someone did that, I ended up with slit wrists.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Do you know where Lyle was last night?”
“No, why?”
“I think I do,” the pretender said, as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.
*
“Where’s Jarod?” Dr. Meisser asked, glancing around when he entered the room.
“In there.”
“Sam, what do you make of this?” he said tossing a wadded up bloody glove on Jarod’s bed, just as the pretender came back on the scene.
The sweeper picked up the glove and unfolding it. After glancing at it, he slowly met the doctor’s eyes.
“Where did you get this?”
“Get what?” Jarod asked joining the huddle.
“I found this crammed against one of the wheels under the bed in room 105.”
“But I thought…how did you know, Jarod?” the sweeper asked, passing it to him.
Jarod’s face twisted into controlled rage, as he looked at the bloody thumbless glove.
“It just made sense. Sadistic revenge. There were just too many ways he’d benefit and he was the only one I knew sick enough to do it.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Sam said clicking off his safety.
Jarod raised his hands and slowly turned around, stunned to find himself half way out the door.
“I, um, didn’t mean to do that, Sam, but maybe you can take a shot at me later,” he said sarcastically.
“You just better watch what you’re doing, genius before you get yourself killed.”
Jarod’s eyes narrowed at that comment, but didn’t reply.
“I don’t understand. I thought you put Mr. Lyle out of commission, the first night you were here,” Dr. Messier said, pretending to look skeptically at Jarod.
“That’s what Mr. Parker wanted everyone to think. I overheard a conversation he had with Lyle, when I was taken to his office for questioning about Miss Parker. That psychopath was in charge of the sweeper team sent to retrieve Gemini. Thank God he didn’t manage that.”
The agent had to play it dumb to keep up his front. He already knew that Bailey and Jon had Lyle under surveillance and were going to pick him up at around 6:30, when most of the principles went home for the day. Glancing at the clock, he smiled inwardly, counting only 4 more hours to go. The trick would be getting Jarod through his 3-hour meeting, without him getting himself in any trouble. And judging by his weakened state and extreme anger, that was probably going to be tricky.
“Jarod, you need to save your strength. Why don’t you come back here and sit down? I need to have a talk with you before your 3:30 meeting. I’ve arranged for Sydney to see you for a little bit. He really can’t be up very long, but he was very insistent. If nothing else, your situation last night has won me more latitude concerning your care,” the doctor said with a wane smile, watching the young man return to his bed.
* * *
Mr. Parker’s Office
2:47 PM
Mutumbo looked up from the surveillance monitor and gave Mr. Parker a look that could kill.
“What the hell is this? You fool! You’ve just hung yourself with this one, and I’m going to stand there and watch you swing. Where is Lyle?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t come in today.”
“Well, you better have someone find him. And while you’re at it, you just better pray that Jarod is able to function properly during his session this afternoon or I’m going to personally turn you over to the Triumvirate before the sun goes down,” he said before slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Renewal Wing
Cell # 16
2:50 PM
“What the hell do you want, Lyle? You little snake in the grass.”
“Now, now. Is that anyway to talk to your brother? I just thought I’d drop by and let you know your boyfriend tried to kill himself last night. I guess you really didn’t mean that much to him after all.”
“Boyfriend? Fat chance, Lyle. Sorry to disappoint you. Why don’t you go somewhere else to get your jollies, you sick little worm.”
“They said he almost bled to death before anyone found him. Not the neatest way to go; slitting your wrists.”
“Get out of here, before someone finds you and puts you back in your cage.”
“Suit yourself, Sis. I don’t know why I thought he meant something to you. If he makes it, I’ll be sure to let him know,” he said with his designer smile, then headed down the corridor to have some fun with Jarod’s father.
“There’s no way I’m related to you, Lyle. You have no soul,” Miss Parker whispered as she shut her eyes, fighting to hold back her tears. “My God, Jarod, please let it not be true.”
* * *
Jarod’s old room
3:11 PM
“Jarod, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Sydney said taking in the sight of the haggard looking young man sprawled on the bed.
“Sydney, I’m glad you came. I um must have fallen asleep. How are you feeling? They told me you were shot,” Jarod said, managing to sit up without drawing attention to his injuries.
“I’m fine, Jarod. I just have to take it rather slowly. I’m much more interested in how you are. Do your wrists hurt very much?”
“Not as much as Lyle will when I get my hands on him.”
“You sound extremely angry, Jarod. You’re going to have to get a hold of yourself, you know.”
“Angry? That’s an understatement. I’m so angry I can’t see straight.”
“You’re reaction is perfectly understandable, but don’t let it get the best of you. Dr. Meisser told me they’re using your father, to make you prepare for Gemini III.”
“Yes,” he said, running his trembling fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture Sydney had seen so many times.
“I can’t begin to fathom the stress you are under. I’m truly sorry. Jarod, what happened to you at the end of your session last night?”
“I don’t know,” Jarod said shaking his head slowly, “I just don’t know.”
“They’re going to allow Dr. Meisser to be with you tonight. Promise me you’ll tell him to pull you out if you get into trouble again. From what I’ve heard, you may have had a break with reality. I thought that you would want to know,” Sydney said giving him a look concern. “You’re very special, Jarod. Don’t allow them to push you too far.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Sorry to break this up, but Raines and the Geneticists will be here any moment. Three more hours and then we’ll be all done,” he said, giving both of them a knowing look.
“Very good. Remember what I said, Jarod.”
“Thank you Sydney.”
“Ok, Dr. Green, it’s time for you to go,” Sam said, lifting the break and pushing him out of the room.”
