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In Pursuit of Happiness
Part 44
By jojarod 50 3-10-03
(Excerpt from the end of part 43)
***
D.O.E. Safe house
Kitchen 9:35 A.M.
Michael finished the last of his juice, excused himself, and quietly
headed upstairs.
Moments later…
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
"Jarod?" Michael asked tentatively, swinging open the door, badly
startling the pretender, who immediately dropped his cell phone and
sent papers flying all over the room.
"Michael, for heaven's sake, what are you doing here?"
"Forgive me for startling you, but if you don't mind my saying so,
you're a textbook example of hyper-vigilance," he observed, stooping
down to help his injured "brother" gather the hand written notes
scattered all over the floor.
"Thanks," Jarod said awkwardly, as the papers were placed in his
trembling hand, deciding to overlook his clone's insensitive lack of
tact.
By the way, perhaps you should consider holding off on shaving for a
while," he offered, wincing as he stared at his face.
Is there a point to this conversation?" Jarod asked impatiently, as
he stooped down and retrieved his cell phone, wondering what
unintentional insult was coming
next.
***
"A Point? Oh," he said, his dark eyes widening, finally figuring out
what Jarod meant.
"Isn't it proper to engage in small talk, before tackling weightier
matters?"
"What do you mean?" Jarod asked in a low voice, trying to be patient,
hating that he had been interrupted in the middle of an important
call.
"For starters, I'm having a difficult time understanding why you're
not resting right now. Medically speaking, after being severely
injured and sustaining substantial blood loss, you should be craving
sleep. That coupled with what happened to you last evening should
have…"
"Is that the weightier matter you were talking about?" he asked,
cutting him off not wanting to hear anymore.
"No, just an observation."
"Michael where is this conversation going?"
"You've been attempting to gather information on Hans since you woke
up, haven't you?" he surmised eyeing his laptop, suspecting that
perhaps he was feeling too guilt-ridden to stay sleep.
The pretender stared at his clone for a moment, as if weighing his
options." I was hoping to learn something more about who he was,
yes," Jarod finally admitted, following his eyes to his laptop, which
he immediately closed.
"I overheard part of your conversation, about arranging to have Hans'
body shipped to the States for burial, when I came in," he said,
grateful that he interrupted his dubious call.
"And how could you have possibly heard enough of my conversation to
extrapolate that?" he asked, continuing to remain noncommittal,
hoping in vain to bluff his way out.
"I speak fluent German, and besides, I know "exactly" how you think.
Not to mention, I scanned your notes, before I handed them back to
you. No offense, but I thought you were going to update that code."
"I'm impressed. I can't believe that you could even make out my
handwriting," Jarod said uncomfortably, pulling open the drawer to
his nightstand and forcefully shoving the papers inside.
"Your shaky handwriting has very little to do with it, Jarod. You
know better than to use your cell phone to call abroad from here,
considering we're under protective custody. I'm surprised your call
wasn't intercepted by intelligence and an agent sent to your room to
take away your phone, by now," he said glancing at the door. "Jarod,
are you listening to me?"
The pretender bristled, but remained guardedly in check, mentioning
something about the German undercover agent being a personal friend.
"He was about to turn you down, wasn't he?"
"This isn't why you're here, is it?" he challenged, wearily. "Look,
I'm tired, Michael, what's on your mind?" he asked, studying the teen
standing before him, wondering if he was ever going to find out what
was on his mind.
"Ok," Michael started with a nervous sigh. "I just wanted you to
know that I somewhat appreciate the trauma you're going through right
now," he confessed, feeling suddenly unbearably self-conscious. "I'm
also struggling with disturbing feelings, concerning the incident you
experienced last night," Michael revealed, as Jarod sank to the edge
of the bed, obviously overwhelmed with sadness, his dark eyes
flinching slightly, but never leaving the clone's.
"I'm so sorry, Michael. I'd hoped you'd been spared the," he began,
his voice faltering for a moment, unable to finish his thought. "You
should have never been exposed to something as damaging as that," he
said, barely audibly, suddenly as pale as the white bedspread he was
sitting on. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered
compassionately.
"No, Jarod, you don't understand," he hurriedly added, hating the
stricken look on
his counter-part's face, wishing he hadn't brought it up in the first
place. It was then that he suddenly realized the gravity of Jarod's
situation.
"Clearly, your link with Hans was substantially stronger than mine
was to either of you during Hans' death, precluding me the brunt of
the emotional trauma you're attempting to deal with right now," he
explained. "I'm all right…really I am."
"Thank God," Jarod whispered reverently, closing his eyes for a
moment, having to force himself not to break down and cry.
"Jarod, please let me help you."
"Michael, I appreciate your offer," he said gently managing a wane
smile, "but there's really nothing you can do."
"No, you're wrong," he pressed. "We could talk about it," he offered,
studying his reluctant "brother," with his innocent dark eyes.
"I would never expose you to something as horrific as that; you must
realize that already," he said, passionately, running his trembling
fingers through his hair, hating the hurt look on his younger clone's
face.
"Have it your way, Jarod," he said in frustration, tossing his pain
medication and tranquilizers on the bed beside him, disliking being
forced to resort to plan "b".
"Did you forget to take those this morning, or are you enjoying
further punishing yourself?"
"Where did you get those?" he asked in confusion, staring at the
amber bottles, as if seeing them for the first time.
"Come on, Jarod. You should know better than to leave your pills
lying around where children can get their hands on them," he said
feigning anger, turning on his heel, and heading for the door.
"Wait, Michael," Jarod pleaded, as he painfully made it to his feet,
cradling his arm, hating that he had inadvertently upset his younger
self. "Please don't go."
Michael looked back, repressing a smile, realizing that he had
managed a substantial victory, as far as his over-
protective "brother" was concerned. Hopefully now, Jarod would let
down his guard enough to share some of his pain.
*
Safe house
10:03 A.M.
Andrea climbed the staircase with a tray for her husband, tired of
being watched by the undercover agents lurking in the shadows,
finding it disturbingly reminiscent of the Centre.
As she reached her bedroom, she paused for a moment noticing Michael
was talking with Jarod inside.
*
"I realize you're having trouble trusting the D.O.E. agents, after
what happened the other night. However, denying yourself sleep, will
not make Andi any safer and is obviously jeopardizing your health.
"That's purely speculative," he deflected irritably, feeling
uncomfortably exposed.
"Is it, Jarod? If you were serious about getting some sleep, you
would have definitely been vigilant about taking your meds by now or
are you just having difficulty keeping track of them?"
"What do you want me to say?" he asked in frustration, rubbing his
hand over his tired eyes.
"Jarod, I found them by the kitchen sink. Did you take either one
last night?"
There was a long uncomfortable silence before Jarod spoke again.
"I'm not really sure. I don't remember much of anything about last
night," Jarod finally admitted.
"I'm sorry, Jarod, I didn't know," Michael said gently, sitting down
beside him on the bed. "Would it help if we talked about Hans a
little more?"
"No…not right now," he said, feeling totally worn down.
"I was going to offer you some Pez, but this is all I could find,"
Michael said apologetically, pulling a Butterfinger out of his pocket
and offering to split it with him.
*
Moments later…
"Jarod?" Andrea called, deciding she'd heard enough, as she swung
open the door. "If you don't mind, Michael, I'd like to spend a
little time with Jarod alone."
"Certainly, Andi. I, um, think Jarod is going to need a little help
keeping track of these for a while," Michael said under his breath,
passing her his medications, then exiting the room.
*
"Hi Andi," Jarod said with a bright smile, disappointed that he was
unable to defuse the concerned look on his wife's face.
"Sweetheart, I thought you might be hungry. I made you a ham and
cheese sandwich," she said, hating how horribly worn out he looked,
saddened that he had had a difficult time sleeping again last night.
"Thanks, Andi," he said with a dimpled smile. "Aren't you going to
have one,
too?" he asked politely, frankly wishing he could just be left alone,
to try and sort things out.
"You're the only one I know of who skipped breakfast, to spend time
with your
German buddies," she said playfully, fishing for answers about what
he had been up to, netting only a noncommittal tired smile.
"I'll tell you what, Jarod," she said, unperturbed by his silence,
retrieving a glass of water from the bathroom. "Why don't you go
ahead and take these, before you have your lunch."
Jarod did an imperceptible double take, feeling around behind his
back, hating his clone's expertise in slight of hand.
"Um, thank you Andi," he said uncomfortably, accepting the proffered
medications, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Jarod, you're acting like you didn't want me to know."
"Sweetheart, nothing could be further from the truth," he lied
innocently, ashamed that that's exactly what he had intended to do.
"Jarod? Tell me what's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Jarod asked, cavalierly, busying himself, pulling
back the sheets on their bed.
"Well, for starters, you seem really upset."
"Oh it's nothing, really Andi. It's just that I don't relish the
prospect of being on tranquilizers again," he said casually, suddenly
overtaken by a horrendous flashback.
"Jarod, are you all right?" she asked, noticing he seemed to lose his
balance for a moment.
"Sure, everything's just fine," he said, convincingly, his knees
continuing to buckle as he sat down on the bed. "You need to try and
relax, Andi. It's not like I'm going to require hospitalization, just
because I'm taking tranquilizers again," he offered, inadvertently
revealing to her his deepest fears.
"That thought hadn't even crossed my mind, Jarod," she said, her eyes
narrowing, suddenly realizing how deeply he feared going off the deep
end again.
"Forgive me, Andi, but I'm not feeling very hungry right now," he
admitted hesidenly, handing the plate she had placed on his
nightstand back to her. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just try and
get some rest."
"Jarod, you don't have to apologize to me about anything," she said,
giving him a loving kiss. "I'll catch up with you on the other side
of your nap," she said, closing the curtains, before leaving the room.
"Or nightmares," Jarod said under his breath as the door closed,
feeling like he was going to be ill.
D.O. E. Safe house
5:30 P.M.
Jarod and Andi's temporary upstairs bedroom
"Jarod, would you like to talk for a little bit?" Sydney asked,
stepping into his bedroom, troubled by what Andrea had just told him.
"Sydney, what are you doing here?" Jarod asked in surprise, angrily
tossing the book he had been reading aside and grudgingly making his
way out of bed.
"You appear to be totally exhausted, Jarod, why aren't you asleep?"
he asked, taken back by his dark lifeless eyes and ashen complexion,
amazed at how rapidly he was going down hill.
"That seems to be the "hot topic" of the day," he said bitterly,
stepping to the window and forcibly shoving the curtain aside.
"When was the last time you managed to sleep through the night?" his
former mentor asked, knowing from what Andrea had told him, that
Jarod had failed to get any meaningful sleep since he arrived at
the "safe house" the other night.
The younger man stood with his back toward the psychiatrist, staring
out the window, pretending his former mentor weren't there.
"Should I repeat the question or are you purposely ignoring me?"
Sydney asked, rewarded with another prolonged silence.
"Jarod," he began after a long pause. "The medication I prescribed
for you obviously isn't doing nearly enough to treat your symptoms of
anxiety. I could give you a sedative, if you would like, so you could
go to sleep," he offered, hoping that his former protégé would quit
acting so obstinate and participate in the conversation.
"Jarod, would you please stop this nonsense and talk to me," Sydney
admonished, becoming increasingly frustrated with his childish
behavior.
"It's happening again, Sydney," he said, finally breaking his
silence, continuing to stare out the window, as if it offered some
intangible protection to him.
"I'm sorry, Jarod. I don't understand. What's happening again?"
"The flashbacks," he revealed quietly. "I should have never married
Andrea. Dear Lord, Sydney, what have I done," he managed, running his
trembling fingers through his hair, unable to face the other man,
obviously deeply shaken.
"Jarod, the fact that you're having flashbacks again, is merely an
indication that you've been experiencing an unacceptable level of
stress. Moreover, as far as your marriage to Andrea is concerned,
Andrea has never appeared happier than since she married you. How
could you possibly believe you've done something wrong?"
"Andi is going to have our baby," he countered nervously, beginning
to shake uncontrollably. "What on earth is she going to do, if I'm
not there for her?"
"Jarod, if I may, you're probably never going to suffer a nervous
breakdown again, baring extreme complications. I think it'd be best
if you'd sit down and try and calm down," he suggested, concerned
that, in his present state, he might collapse to the floor.
"You don't know that for sure," he said heatedly, convinced that he
was being lied to, as he angrily spun around.
"I know, for a fact, that you've been under an extraordinary amount
of stress the past few days," he reiterated, hoping his words would
finally sink in.
"Let's see now, you were badly wounded by an agent you trusted to
take you and your newly pregnant wife to a safe house. Then, a short
time later, you inadvertently experienced the horror of your clone's
death. Jarod, those events were significant and, unfortunately,
damagingly close together. And on top of everything else, I know you
haven't had the opportunity to process the fact that you even had a
clone close to your own age, let alone, contemplate the circumstances
of his untimely death."
"You're conveniently leaving out the fact that I've been exposed to
far more difficult and stressful situations than this, as a pretender
over the years, and I've never experienced these kind of
ramifications before. This shouldn't be happening to me now."
"Should, shouldn't; why must you insist on being so hard on yourself?
I don't think you understand the gravity of what you've been exposed
to."
"Jarod, listen to me. Your inability to achieve adequate sleep has
compounded the problem significantly, leaving you extremely
vulnerable to echoes from your past, that's all," he explained,
wishing he had found a way to convince him to take a sedative the
night before.
" Come on, old friend, why don't you go ahead and lie down and I'll
give you something to help you sleep," he said, hoping he would
acquiesce without another frustrating heated debate.
"I can't, Sydney. You don't understand," he said suddenly backing
away, openly terrified. "Every time I fall asleep, I'm back in the
Centre…. with Lyle."
"Calm down, Jarod, your mind is just playing cruel tricks on you," he
admonished, trying to keep his own emotions in check, as he pointedly
planned to intervene. He knew, without question, as he studied the
distraught man, that without adequate sleep and extensive counseling,
it would be only a matter of time before he really did go off the
deep end requiring hospitalization again. Moreover, he'd be damned if
that were going to happen to his pretender again.
"Would you please sit down. I'm not leaving here, until we've sorted
things out," he warned, rewarded by the exhausted pretender finally
easing down on the bed.
"I'm afraid that this is partially my fault, for not aggressively
treating you after our initial talk about Hans last night," he
confessed, preparing a sedative on the sly and squirting out the air
bubbles before administrating the shot.
"What are you…please…no," Jarod protested in vain, taken totally by
surprise by Sydney's hypo, as he slowly slumped sideways against his
pillows, unable to ward off the effects of the sedative drug.
"How could you do this to me," Jarod asked, feeling totally betrayed
by his mentor, as he continued to lose ground.
"Forgive me, Jarod, but you left me with no other alternative,
considering your irrational state of mind right now," he explained,
looking sympathetically at the exhausted young man. "However, I'm
quite certain, that you'll thank me in the morning, for helping you
break the manic cycle you've become trapped in," he said, covering
him with a quilt, before turning out the light and leaving the room,
wishing there had been another way.
*
D.O.E Safe house
Later that evening
"Andrea, its Broots. You might want to tell Jarod that the whole
sting operation has been put on hold for a while. It was determined
that after Han's death, everyone would be watching his or her
respective backs too closely. By the way, how is Jarod doing? Last
time I saw him, he was, um, well, is he doing all right?"
"Not really. Look, I `d rather not discuss it right now."
.
"Wait, Andi," he pressed in concern. "Ha has he, um, …been
hospitalized again?"
"No, but Sydney gave him a sedative late this afternoon. Dear Lord,
Broots. Jarod managed to act so unaffected this morning, I had no
idea he was in over his head," she admitted, feeling enormously
guilty.
"Well, um, he, um, is a pretender, you know," he said, clearing his
throat uncomfortably, trying to help her put things in
perspective. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"No, but thanks for offering. We're just going to have to let things
ride for a while and see how he does."
"You can, um, ca call me any time, if you want to talk. I mean, just
as fri friends."
"Thanks, Broots. I'll keep that in mind," she said with a sad smile
hanging up the phone *
A couple of weeks later…
"It was touch and go for a while, but he's doing much better now,
Broots," Andrea said with a grin, gazing out the dinning room window,
watching her husband flip burgers on the grill, shadowed by a D.O.E.
agent.
"That's r really good n news, Andi. I can't imagine how difficult
this has been f for you. By the way, how are you feeling?"
"Like I'm going to puke all the time. Thanks for asking."
"Oh, th that can't be good," he said, nervously, almost forgetting
why he'd called.
"Andi, the, um, sting operation is in progress as we speak. You
probably should tell Jarod right away. I'm sure he'd like to know.
Not to mention, he'll pro probably never forgive me for not le
letting him kn know before now."
"I think that can wait a minute or two," she said with a smile,
enjoying seeing Jarod just being himself again.
"Ma maybe you two should start planning for you're "happily ever
after."
"This is really hard to take in," the slender brunette said with a
grin, leaning against the back of the couch, suddenly feeling
nauseous again, a constant reminder that she was pregnant with
Jarod's child.
"I know, it's been ha hard for all of us," he said, amazed at the
extensive trauma they'd all survived. "By the way, after you're
released from protective custody, are you going to go back to living
in your new home?" Broots asked, hoping that they wouldn't move away.
"We haven't discussed it yet, but this is such a lovely place. I hope
he decides to stay." *
"Andi, would you mind bring me out a platter? Oh, I'm sorry," Jarod
said, stepping into the room. "I didn't realize you were on the
phone."
"It's all right honey, it's Broots. He wants to talk to you. I'll
handle the burgers," she said, proffering him the phone.
"Mr. Broots," the pretender began with trepidation, wondering why he
would be calling in the middle of the day.
"Jarod, the um, well, the um "mouse trap" is snapping shut as we
speak, " he said with a big grin, pleased with his clever delivery,
as the agent at the desk next to him shook his head and rolled his
eyes.
"They moved back the date again," he said tightly, hating that he had
been left out of the loop. "When will we know the final results?"
Jarod pressed in a low voice, his pulse quickening, knowing his
family's safety hung in the balance.
"Oh, I'd say in an h…hour and a h half or so."
"Thanks, Broots," Jarod said, disconnecting the line, and heading for
the stairs.
"Where are you going, Jarod? It's almost time to eat?"
"I'm sorry, Andi, go ahead and eat without me. I have to do this," he
explained, hurriedly heading upstairs, wanting to monitor the final
execution of his plan.
*
TBC I promise to finish this LOL! Feedback might help
Part 44
By jojarod 50 3-10-03
(Excerpt from the end of part 43)
***
D.O.E. Safe house
Kitchen 9:35 A.M.
Michael finished the last of his juice, excused himself, and quietly
headed upstairs.
Moments later…
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
"Jarod?" Michael asked tentatively, swinging open the door, badly
startling the pretender, who immediately dropped his cell phone and
sent papers flying all over the room.
"Michael, for heaven's sake, what are you doing here?"
"Forgive me for startling you, but if you don't mind my saying so,
you're a textbook example of hyper-vigilance," he observed, stooping
down to help his injured "brother" gather the hand written notes
scattered all over the floor.
"Thanks," Jarod said awkwardly, as the papers were placed in his
trembling hand, deciding to overlook his clone's insensitive lack of
tact.
By the way, perhaps you should consider holding off on shaving for a
while," he offered, wincing as he stared at his face.
Is there a point to this conversation?" Jarod asked impatiently, as
he stooped down and retrieved his cell phone, wondering what
unintentional insult was coming
next.
***
"A Point? Oh," he said, his dark eyes widening, finally figuring out
what Jarod meant.
"Isn't it proper to engage in small talk, before tackling weightier
matters?"
"What do you mean?" Jarod asked in a low voice, trying to be patient,
hating that he had been interrupted in the middle of an important
call.
"For starters, I'm having a difficult time understanding why you're
not resting right now. Medically speaking, after being severely
injured and sustaining substantial blood loss, you should be craving
sleep. That coupled with what happened to you last evening should
have…"
"Is that the weightier matter you were talking about?" he asked,
cutting him off not wanting to hear anymore.
"No, just an observation."
"Michael where is this conversation going?"
"You've been attempting to gather information on Hans since you woke
up, haven't you?" he surmised eyeing his laptop, suspecting that
perhaps he was feeling too guilt-ridden to stay sleep.
The pretender stared at his clone for a moment, as if weighing his
options." I was hoping to learn something more about who he was,
yes," Jarod finally admitted, following his eyes to his laptop, which
he immediately closed.
"I overheard part of your conversation, about arranging to have Hans'
body shipped to the States for burial, when I came in," he said,
grateful that he interrupted his dubious call.
"And how could you have possibly heard enough of my conversation to
extrapolate that?" he asked, continuing to remain noncommittal,
hoping in vain to bluff his way out.
"I speak fluent German, and besides, I know "exactly" how you think.
Not to mention, I scanned your notes, before I handed them back to
you. No offense, but I thought you were going to update that code."
"I'm impressed. I can't believe that you could even make out my
handwriting," Jarod said uncomfortably, pulling open the drawer to
his nightstand and forcefully shoving the papers inside.
"Your shaky handwriting has very little to do with it, Jarod. You
know better than to use your cell phone to call abroad from here,
considering we're under protective custody. I'm surprised your call
wasn't intercepted by intelligence and an agent sent to your room to
take away your phone, by now," he said glancing at the door. "Jarod,
are you listening to me?"
The pretender bristled, but remained guardedly in check, mentioning
something about the German undercover agent being a personal friend.
"He was about to turn you down, wasn't he?"
"This isn't why you're here, is it?" he challenged, wearily. "Look,
I'm tired, Michael, what's on your mind?" he asked, studying the teen
standing before him, wondering if he was ever going to find out what
was on his mind.
"Ok," Michael started with a nervous sigh. "I just wanted you to
know that I somewhat appreciate the trauma you're going through right
now," he confessed, feeling suddenly unbearably self-conscious. "I'm
also struggling with disturbing feelings, concerning the incident you
experienced last night," Michael revealed, as Jarod sank to the edge
of the bed, obviously overwhelmed with sadness, his dark eyes
flinching slightly, but never leaving the clone's.
"I'm so sorry, Michael. I'd hoped you'd been spared the," he began,
his voice faltering for a moment, unable to finish his thought. "You
should have never been exposed to something as damaging as that," he
said, barely audibly, suddenly as pale as the white bedspread he was
sitting on. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered
compassionately.
"No, Jarod, you don't understand," he hurriedly added, hating the
stricken look on
his counter-part's face, wishing he hadn't brought it up in the first
place. It was then that he suddenly realized the gravity of Jarod's
situation.
"Clearly, your link with Hans was substantially stronger than mine
was to either of you during Hans' death, precluding me the brunt of
the emotional trauma you're attempting to deal with right now," he
explained. "I'm all right…really I am."
"Thank God," Jarod whispered reverently, closing his eyes for a
moment, having to force himself not to break down and cry.
"Jarod, please let me help you."
"Michael, I appreciate your offer," he said gently managing a wane
smile, "but there's really nothing you can do."
"No, you're wrong," he pressed. "We could talk about it," he offered,
studying his reluctant "brother," with his innocent dark eyes.
"I would never expose you to something as horrific as that; you must
realize that already," he said, passionately, running his trembling
fingers through his hair, hating the hurt look on his younger clone's
face.
"Have it your way, Jarod," he said in frustration, tossing his pain
medication and tranquilizers on the bed beside him, disliking being
forced to resort to plan "b".
"Did you forget to take those this morning, or are you enjoying
further punishing yourself?"
"Where did you get those?" he asked in confusion, staring at the
amber bottles, as if seeing them for the first time.
"Come on, Jarod. You should know better than to leave your pills
lying around where children can get their hands on them," he said
feigning anger, turning on his heel, and heading for the door.
"Wait, Michael," Jarod pleaded, as he painfully made it to his feet,
cradling his arm, hating that he had inadvertently upset his younger
self. "Please don't go."
Michael looked back, repressing a smile, realizing that he had
managed a substantial victory, as far as his over-
protective "brother" was concerned. Hopefully now, Jarod would let
down his guard enough to share some of his pain.
*
Safe house
10:03 A.M.
Andrea climbed the staircase with a tray for her husband, tired of
being watched by the undercover agents lurking in the shadows,
finding it disturbingly reminiscent of the Centre.
As she reached her bedroom, she paused for a moment noticing Michael
was talking with Jarod inside.
*
"I realize you're having trouble trusting the D.O.E. agents, after
what happened the other night. However, denying yourself sleep, will
not make Andi any safer and is obviously jeopardizing your health.
"That's purely speculative," he deflected irritably, feeling
uncomfortably exposed.
"Is it, Jarod? If you were serious about getting some sleep, you
would have definitely been vigilant about taking your meds by now or
are you just having difficulty keeping track of them?"
"What do you want me to say?" he asked in frustration, rubbing his
hand over his tired eyes.
"Jarod, I found them by the kitchen sink. Did you take either one
last night?"
There was a long uncomfortable silence before Jarod spoke again.
"I'm not really sure. I don't remember much of anything about last
night," Jarod finally admitted.
"I'm sorry, Jarod, I didn't know," Michael said gently, sitting down
beside him on the bed. "Would it help if we talked about Hans a
little more?"
"No…not right now," he said, feeling totally worn down.
"I was going to offer you some Pez, but this is all I could find,"
Michael said apologetically, pulling a Butterfinger out of his pocket
and offering to split it with him.
*
Moments later…
"Jarod?" Andrea called, deciding she'd heard enough, as she swung
open the door. "If you don't mind, Michael, I'd like to spend a
little time with Jarod alone."
"Certainly, Andi. I, um, think Jarod is going to need a little help
keeping track of these for a while," Michael said under his breath,
passing her his medications, then exiting the room.
*
"Hi Andi," Jarod said with a bright smile, disappointed that he was
unable to defuse the concerned look on his wife's face.
"Sweetheart, I thought you might be hungry. I made you a ham and
cheese sandwich," she said, hating how horribly worn out he looked,
saddened that he had had a difficult time sleeping again last night.
"Thanks, Andi," he said with a dimpled smile. "Aren't you going to
have one,
too?" he asked politely, frankly wishing he could just be left alone,
to try and sort things out.
"You're the only one I know of who skipped breakfast, to spend time
with your
German buddies," she said playfully, fishing for answers about what
he had been up to, netting only a noncommittal tired smile.
"I'll tell you what, Jarod," she said, unperturbed by his silence,
retrieving a glass of water from the bathroom. "Why don't you go
ahead and take these, before you have your lunch."
Jarod did an imperceptible double take, feeling around behind his
back, hating his clone's expertise in slight of hand.
"Um, thank you Andi," he said uncomfortably, accepting the proffered
medications, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Jarod, you're acting like you didn't want me to know."
"Sweetheart, nothing could be further from the truth," he lied
innocently, ashamed that that's exactly what he had intended to do.
"Jarod? Tell me what's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Jarod asked, cavalierly, busying himself, pulling
back the sheets on their bed.
"Well, for starters, you seem really upset."
"Oh it's nothing, really Andi. It's just that I don't relish the
prospect of being on tranquilizers again," he said casually, suddenly
overtaken by a horrendous flashback.
"Jarod, are you all right?" she asked, noticing he seemed to lose his
balance for a moment.
"Sure, everything's just fine," he said, convincingly, his knees
continuing to buckle as he sat down on the bed. "You need to try and
relax, Andi. It's not like I'm going to require hospitalization, just
because I'm taking tranquilizers again," he offered, inadvertently
revealing to her his deepest fears.
"That thought hadn't even crossed my mind, Jarod," she said, her eyes
narrowing, suddenly realizing how deeply he feared going off the deep
end again.
"Forgive me, Andi, but I'm not feeling very hungry right now," he
admitted hesidenly, handing the plate she had placed on his
nightstand back to her. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just try and
get some rest."
"Jarod, you don't have to apologize to me about anything," she said,
giving him a loving kiss. "I'll catch up with you on the other side
of your nap," she said, closing the curtains, before leaving the room.
"Or nightmares," Jarod said under his breath as the door closed,
feeling like he was going to be ill.
D.O. E. Safe house
5:30 P.M.
Jarod and Andi's temporary upstairs bedroom
"Jarod, would you like to talk for a little bit?" Sydney asked,
stepping into his bedroom, troubled by what Andrea had just told him.
"Sydney, what are you doing here?" Jarod asked in surprise, angrily
tossing the book he had been reading aside and grudgingly making his
way out of bed.
"You appear to be totally exhausted, Jarod, why aren't you asleep?"
he asked, taken back by his dark lifeless eyes and ashen complexion,
amazed at how rapidly he was going down hill.
"That seems to be the "hot topic" of the day," he said bitterly,
stepping to the window and forcibly shoving the curtain aside.
"When was the last time you managed to sleep through the night?" his
former mentor asked, knowing from what Andrea had told him, that
Jarod had failed to get any meaningful sleep since he arrived at
the "safe house" the other night.
The younger man stood with his back toward the psychiatrist, staring
out the window, pretending his former mentor weren't there.
"Should I repeat the question or are you purposely ignoring me?"
Sydney asked, rewarded with another prolonged silence.
"Jarod," he began after a long pause. "The medication I prescribed
for you obviously isn't doing nearly enough to treat your symptoms of
anxiety. I could give you a sedative, if you would like, so you could
go to sleep," he offered, hoping that his former protégé would quit
acting so obstinate and participate in the conversation.
"Jarod, would you please stop this nonsense and talk to me," Sydney
admonished, becoming increasingly frustrated with his childish
behavior.
"It's happening again, Sydney," he said, finally breaking his
silence, continuing to stare out the window, as if it offered some
intangible protection to him.
"I'm sorry, Jarod. I don't understand. What's happening again?"
"The flashbacks," he revealed quietly. "I should have never married
Andrea. Dear Lord, Sydney, what have I done," he managed, running his
trembling fingers through his hair, unable to face the other man,
obviously deeply shaken.
"Jarod, the fact that you're having flashbacks again, is merely an
indication that you've been experiencing an unacceptable level of
stress. Moreover, as far as your marriage to Andrea is concerned,
Andrea has never appeared happier than since she married you. How
could you possibly believe you've done something wrong?"
"Andi is going to have our baby," he countered nervously, beginning
to shake uncontrollably. "What on earth is she going to do, if I'm
not there for her?"
"Jarod, if I may, you're probably never going to suffer a nervous
breakdown again, baring extreme complications. I think it'd be best
if you'd sit down and try and calm down," he suggested, concerned
that, in his present state, he might collapse to the floor.
"You don't know that for sure," he said heatedly, convinced that he
was being lied to, as he angrily spun around.
"I know, for a fact, that you've been under an extraordinary amount
of stress the past few days," he reiterated, hoping his words would
finally sink in.
"Let's see now, you were badly wounded by an agent you trusted to
take you and your newly pregnant wife to a safe house. Then, a short
time later, you inadvertently experienced the horror of your clone's
death. Jarod, those events were significant and, unfortunately,
damagingly close together. And on top of everything else, I know you
haven't had the opportunity to process the fact that you even had a
clone close to your own age, let alone, contemplate the circumstances
of his untimely death."
"You're conveniently leaving out the fact that I've been exposed to
far more difficult and stressful situations than this, as a pretender
over the years, and I've never experienced these kind of
ramifications before. This shouldn't be happening to me now."
"Should, shouldn't; why must you insist on being so hard on yourself?
I don't think you understand the gravity of what you've been exposed
to."
"Jarod, listen to me. Your inability to achieve adequate sleep has
compounded the problem significantly, leaving you extremely
vulnerable to echoes from your past, that's all," he explained,
wishing he had found a way to convince him to take a sedative the
night before.
" Come on, old friend, why don't you go ahead and lie down and I'll
give you something to help you sleep," he said, hoping he would
acquiesce without another frustrating heated debate.
"I can't, Sydney. You don't understand," he said suddenly backing
away, openly terrified. "Every time I fall asleep, I'm back in the
Centre…. with Lyle."
"Calm down, Jarod, your mind is just playing cruel tricks on you," he
admonished, trying to keep his own emotions in check, as he pointedly
planned to intervene. He knew, without question, as he studied the
distraught man, that without adequate sleep and extensive counseling,
it would be only a matter of time before he really did go off the
deep end requiring hospitalization again. Moreover, he'd be damned if
that were going to happen to his pretender again.
"Would you please sit down. I'm not leaving here, until we've sorted
things out," he warned, rewarded by the exhausted pretender finally
easing down on the bed.
"I'm afraid that this is partially my fault, for not aggressively
treating you after our initial talk about Hans last night," he
confessed, preparing a sedative on the sly and squirting out the air
bubbles before administrating the shot.
"What are you…please…no," Jarod protested in vain, taken totally by
surprise by Sydney's hypo, as he slowly slumped sideways against his
pillows, unable to ward off the effects of the sedative drug.
"How could you do this to me," Jarod asked, feeling totally betrayed
by his mentor, as he continued to lose ground.
"Forgive me, Jarod, but you left me with no other alternative,
considering your irrational state of mind right now," he explained,
looking sympathetically at the exhausted young man. "However, I'm
quite certain, that you'll thank me in the morning, for helping you
break the manic cycle you've become trapped in," he said, covering
him with a quilt, before turning out the light and leaving the room,
wishing there had been another way.
*
D.O.E Safe house
Later that evening
"Andrea, its Broots. You might want to tell Jarod that the whole
sting operation has been put on hold for a while. It was determined
that after Han's death, everyone would be watching his or her
respective backs too closely. By the way, how is Jarod doing? Last
time I saw him, he was, um, well, is he doing all right?"
"Not really. Look, I `d rather not discuss it right now."
.
"Wait, Andi," he pressed in concern. "Ha has he, um, …been
hospitalized again?"
"No, but Sydney gave him a sedative late this afternoon. Dear Lord,
Broots. Jarod managed to act so unaffected this morning, I had no
idea he was in over his head," she admitted, feeling enormously
guilty.
"Well, um, he, um, is a pretender, you know," he said, clearing his
throat uncomfortably, trying to help her put things in
perspective. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"No, but thanks for offering. We're just going to have to let things
ride for a while and see how he does."
"You can, um, ca call me any time, if you want to talk. I mean, just
as fri friends."
"Thanks, Broots. I'll keep that in mind," she said with a sad smile
hanging up the phone *
A couple of weeks later…
"It was touch and go for a while, but he's doing much better now,
Broots," Andrea said with a grin, gazing out the dinning room window,
watching her husband flip burgers on the grill, shadowed by a D.O.E.
agent.
"That's r really good n news, Andi. I can't imagine how difficult
this has been f for you. By the way, how are you feeling?"
"Like I'm going to puke all the time. Thanks for asking."
"Oh, th that can't be good," he said, nervously, almost forgetting
why he'd called.
"Andi, the, um, sting operation is in progress as we speak. You
probably should tell Jarod right away. I'm sure he'd like to know.
Not to mention, he'll pro probably never forgive me for not le
letting him kn know before now."
"I think that can wait a minute or two," she said with a smile,
enjoying seeing Jarod just being himself again.
"Ma maybe you two should start planning for you're "happily ever
after."
"This is really hard to take in," the slender brunette said with a
grin, leaning against the back of the couch, suddenly feeling
nauseous again, a constant reminder that she was pregnant with
Jarod's child.
"I know, it's been ha hard for all of us," he said, amazed at the
extensive trauma they'd all survived. "By the way, after you're
released from protective custody, are you going to go back to living
in your new home?" Broots asked, hoping that they wouldn't move away.
"We haven't discussed it yet, but this is such a lovely place. I hope
he decides to stay." *
"Andi, would you mind bring me out a platter? Oh, I'm sorry," Jarod
said, stepping into the room. "I didn't realize you were on the
phone."
"It's all right honey, it's Broots. He wants to talk to you. I'll
handle the burgers," she said, proffering him the phone.
"Mr. Broots," the pretender began with trepidation, wondering why he
would be calling in the middle of the day.
"Jarod, the um, well, the um "mouse trap" is snapping shut as we
speak, " he said with a big grin, pleased with his clever delivery,
as the agent at the desk next to him shook his head and rolled his
eyes.
"They moved back the date again," he said tightly, hating that he had
been left out of the loop. "When will we know the final results?"
Jarod pressed in a low voice, his pulse quickening, knowing his
family's safety hung in the balance.
"Oh, I'd say in an h…hour and a h half or so."
"Thanks, Broots," Jarod said, disconnecting the line, and heading for
the stairs.
"Where are you going, Jarod? It's almost time to eat?"
"I'm sorry, Andi, go ahead and eat without me. I have to do this," he
explained, hurriedly heading upstairs, wanting to monitor the final
execution of his plan.
*
TBC I promise to finish this LOL! Feedback might help
