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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Part 45-B
By jojarod 50
D.O.E. Safe house
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
7:35 PM
Andrea entered their bedroom and quietly lay down next to her sedated
husband, feeling extremely guilty for the anger she felt toward him.
Gently, she extended her arms around his waist, nestling her
head against his muscular chest, comforted by the rhythm of his
breathing feeling frightened and alone.
"We'll fight this thing together, I promise you," she said,
closing her tired eyes. "You should have never tried to hide this
from me."
Jarod flinched and turned on his side away from her mumbling
something unintelligible, obviously deeply distressed.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me, Jarod," she whispered, unable
to help her self, deeply hurt that he didn't really trust her enough
to level with her about his emotional relapse.
Down stairs Living room
7:35PM
"I'd like to start having sessions with him, as soon as tomorrow.
He'll probably sleep through the night and into the morning
considering his extreme deficit of sleep."
"He won't have anything to do with you after sedating him against his
will."
"Michael, I said that's enough."
"Dr. Meisser tried that with Jarod and was rewarded with deep seeded
anger and lack of trust. You'll have no appreciable co-operation for
days."
"Michael, whether he is angry with me tomorrow is immaterial. Jarod
is extremely paranoid right now. It is essential that he return to a
normal "sleep-cycle", before he becomes any more unmanageable.
"Wait a minute, what are you saying?" Major Charles asked, thinking
the worst. "Will he have to be hospitalized again?"
"Hopefully not. We'll just have to see how he does tomorrow and how
willing he is to co-operate."
"Why don't I give you a call in the morning at about, say, ten and
we'll schedule an appointment for him," Sydney said rising from his
seat and heading for the door.
"Thank you Sydney," Major Charles said cordially, wishing Jarod
hadn't become involved with the F.B.I., after finally recovering from
his devastating mental breakdown.
Later that evening…
"Andrea, it's for you," Emily said, handing her the phone.
"What?" she asked irritably.
"Andi, 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. "Ha has he, um,…. been hospitalized
again?"
"No, but Sydney found it necessary to give him a sedative
late this afternoon. Dear Lord, Broots. Jarod managed to act so
unaffected today, that 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 into
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. Say hi to Lindsey
for me," she said with a sad smile as he hung up the phone.
The next day – D.O.A. Safe house
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
10:58 a.m.
Jarod opened his heavy eyelids and rubbed his hand over his sweaty
face feeling unusually groggy. The stillness surrounding him would
have lulled him back to sleep, were it not for the fact that he was
uncomfortably hot. Tossing aside his covers, he lay still, enjoying
the cooling effects of the ceiling fan above his bed.
Believing it was still very early in the morning, he reached out his
hand to connect with his sleeping wife, only to find that she wasn't
in bed. Confused, he glanced at the clock on the dresser shocked that
it read nearly 11:00AM. Hit with a jolt of anxiety he suddenly sat up
and was instantly reminded of his wounded shoulder.
Wincing in pain, he waited to reach equilibrium before he dare try
to stand up, blaming the sedative for his dizziness and Sydney for
his entire predicament.
After he was satisfied that he could maneuver adequately, he grabbed
some clothes from his dresser and entering the bathroom, barely
controlling the urge to slam the door. One look at his face in the
mirror, and his mind was flooded with unwanted memories of his clone,
Hans, and the horror he had felt while being shot to death.
Desperately fighting to clear his mind, he refocused on why he was
in the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and turned on the water.
Angrily, he pushed the shower curtain aside and stepped under the
water, wondering how on earth he was going to defuse his family's
concern for him after being told it was necessary to have him sedated
and "god only knows what else".
As the warm water sprayed over him, he braced himself against the
shower wall, bombarded by horrifying images playing over and over in
his mind of his being shot and Andrea being abandoned to fight the
assailant on her own.
For a moment, the water turned into blood and he nearly lost it
completely. Panic-stricken, he turned off the water and sank to his
knees, fighting to control his rapid breathing, feeling like he was
losing his mind.
"This can't be happening to me again," he whispered fearfully as he
regained his feet, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the shower.
*
"Jarod, I'm happy you were finally able to get some decent
sleep. Are you hungry? I could make you some pigs in the blankets?"
Andi offered, stepping up to the bathroom door hoping to help her
husband feel more at ease.
"Um…hi Andi…I'll be right out."
"Jarod dried himself and slowly dressed wishing that he
didn't have to deal with his wife quite yet, knowing how volatile she
had become now that she was pregnant.
For a moment, he considered shaving to stall the inevitable, but one
look at his trembling hands settled the matter for him.
*
Moments later…
Their temporary bedroom
"Andi, please don't look at me that way," Jarod said, raking
his fingers through his damp hair in frustration, as he exited the
bathroom coming face to face with his troubled wife.
"What the hell did you expect? I'm worried sick about you.
You promised me you'd pull out of the sting operation if it started
getting to you, but you just couldn't stay away, could you, Jarod.
Not even, after Bailey had sense enough to have you removed from the
case."
"Andi, I can't believe you're bringing that up now. It was a
judgement call. I was trying to protect you and the rest of our
family.
"A judgement call? Where was your keen sense of judgement
when you hurried down to the field office after just having been shot
and faced off with your clone? Just look at yourself… now we're back
to square one."
"That's not true, Andi," he countered, closing his eyes for a moment
as another flashback assaulted his mind. "You must believe me; there
is nothing seriously wrong with me," he said, fighting to keep his
wits about him, his eyes and trembling hands, unfortunately betraying
his growing fear.
"Andi, I can't, for the life of me, understand why Sydney decided to
sedate me last night. I must admit, I was very emotional yesterday,
but inadequate sleep will do that to you. There's nothing abnormal
about that."
"Jarod, that sounds like a bunch of bull shit. Why the hell won't you
level with me?" she asked, nearly breaking into tears.
"I am, Andi. I'm not having a nervous breakdown, I promise.
Is that the assurance you need from me?" he asked, scrambling to come
up with a better explanation, looking down at her with his innocent
dark eyes.
"I explained about the nightmares the other day. Don't you remember?
They'll taper off as I distance my self from the cumulative stress of
what I've been through. Sydney's the one you ought to be angry at
right now. I'm going to see to it that he straightens this whole mess
out."
"Go for it, Jarod," she said, suddenly distancing herself
from him. "He should be here any minute to talk to you," she said,
glaring at him angrily. "Jarod, I don't understand why you keep lying
to me. I know about your flashbacks. For God's sake, I'm your wife.
You better start leveling with me," she said, turning on her heel and
exiting the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Or what?" Jarod shouted nervously as the door slammed shut,
feeling like he needed a serious drink.
*
(12:17 p.m.)
"I've got to get out of here," he breathed, reaching for the
doorknob just as the door swung open.
"No, you don't. Not until we've had our discussion," Sydney
said firmly, stepping into the room.
"Are you insane? What are you trying to do, destroy my
marriage?" Jarod spit, barely able to remain civil, his dark eyes
boring into his former mentor's. "I don't think Andi is going to take
much more of this."
"Jarod, please try and calm down. No one is meaning you any
harm," he admonished, clinically evaluating the other man's demeanor,
deeply concerned.
"Oh, yeah. Look how upset my wife is. You're going downstairs
with me right now, and tell my family that you made a mistake. You
had no right to sedate me. Do you realize how bad that looks."
"Stop it, Jarod. You've been suffering from devastating nightmares
totally disrupting what little sleep you've been managing to get and
have acute anxiety to the point that you're becoming paranoid. I had
to try something to help you stay asleep, I'm sorry that it hasn't
really made much difference," he said, amazed at how unstable he was.
"Your belligerent attitude toward me isn't doing either one of us any
good. You need help, Jarod. Can't you see that?"
"No, you're wrong. This can't be happening to me again," he said
nervously, starting to pace.
"Have you taken your medication today?"
"Isn't it enough that I feel strangely unfocused and jumpy,
thanks to the rebound effects of the sedative you gave me last night?
There's no telling what might happen if I were to take anything else."
"Jarod, you received an average dose of seconal around 6:00
p.m. yesterday and it's nearly 12:30p.m. now. Do your math. There's
no way you could still be feeling the effects of that shot."
"I said re-bound effects," he reiterated, stopping in front
of the doctor as if to emphasize his point.
"I understand that. Don't you see, your trouble concentrating,
extreme hyper-vigilance, and intense irritability are all symptoms of
P.T.S.D., which you are definitely suffering from. Your medications
will help you be able to cope better during this difficult time," he
said, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall.
"This is ridiculous. Between you and Dr. Everly, I've already managed
to accumulate four medications. That's definitely over-kill, don't
you agree?" he said resuming his pacing.
"Three medications, Jarod," his former mentor corrected, surprised
that he would make such a careless mistake. "As I recall, Dr. Everly
prescribed an antibiotic regimen and Percocet for the pain of your
gunshot wound. There is nothing sinister about that. You refused the
Xanax, which, incidentally, would have benefited you greatly.
Furthermore, the Thorozine I prescribed for you, obviously isn't
helping you," he said wondering if he had taken any of the
tranquilizers at all.
"Have you had any flash backs today?" he asked, remembering at the
hospital that that had been the single thing that had upset him the
most.
Jarod's expression mutated into a sick smile. "You'd like me
to say yes, wouldn't you," he said suddenly lunging at the good
doctor and ripping the black bag out of his hand. Marching over to
the door, he threw it open and tossed the bag out into the hallway.
"Get out."
"Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Jarod. Silence the messenger,"
he scolded, surprised at his sudden aggressiveness. "As I recall,
this is the second time in three days, that you have told me to
leave."
"You must realize, however, that getting rid of me is not going to
solve your problems. You're going to have to face this thing and deal
with it, before you get any worse. From what I've observed today,
you're declining disturbingly rapidly. Do you really want to become
psychotic again, because that's just where you're headed if you don't
let me help you now."
"I said, get out!"
"Jarod, you're not listening to…Jarod?" Sydney asked, rushing
over to the pretender, who had suddenly backed against the far wall
and slid down it to the floor.
Stooping down beside the fallen man, Sydney tried to take his
pulse, but Jarod became combative, apparently locked into some kind
of violent flash back, and nearly "cleaned his clock". Checking his
vitals was impossible and the psychiatrist was forced to back away
until what ever his patient was going through had passed.
In the mean time, Sydney retrieved his black bag from the
hallway, giving a frustrated look to the D.O.A. agent posted near by.
"Why don't you go downstairs and give us some privacy?"
"Yes, sir; sorry, sir."
*
Reentering the room, the doctor prepared 100cc of Thorozine, seizing
the opportunity to calm his dangerously hysterical patient down.
"I must say this, Jarod, you certainly are a hand full today," the
older man breathed, barely managing to administer the shot, without
being assaulted by the younger man.
"There you go, Jarod," his doctor said, as a much calmer Jarod
started coming around.
"Tell me what happened to you. Did you experience a flash back?"
Jarod started to say something and then fell silent again,
shaking his head in dismay. Sydney continued to wait patiently until
his patient was willing to talk.
"I was, um, being unstrapped from the chair in Raine's
laboratory by Willie just after they," the distraught young man said,
wrapping his arms tightly around himself and beginning to rock.
"Jarod, is that the only flashback you've had today or have there
been others?" he asked gently, knowing by the way he was trying to
comfort himself, that he was deeply traumatized.
Resigned to the inevitable, Jarod finally admitted to having
several flash backs in a short period of time, ranging from being
shot the other night, to re-experiencing the death of his clone.
"Why don't we have Andi come in and spend some time with you.
You mustn't shut her out of this part of your life. She's your wife."
"No, I don't want her to see me like this," he said, quickly
making it to his feet.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of. She's seen you like this
before. This is part of who you are now. You must learn to accept
this. You were irreparably damaged by what Lyle did to you, and
problems associated with that will surface during times of
extraordinary stress, such as you are experiencing right now. It will
always be this way for you. I'm sorry to have to be so blunt. Lying
to your wife and family and denying you have a problem will only
postpone your getting treatment until it is too late."
"I don't want to talk about this any more," he said, stepping
to the window wishing he would leave him alone.
"Bare with me a little longer. Jarod, I'm sorry but you're going to
need to be admitted to the hospital for a short period of time, until
we can get you stabilized."
"That won't be necessary," he said, spinning around. "Just
give me a little more time. If I'm not showing signs of improvement
by then, perhaps we could revisit this issue."
"I can't risk you becoming any more unmanageable. You need to
be in a controlled environment, so we can get you on a drug regimen
that works for you. If you don't co-operate willingly, I'll be forced
to have you committed against your will. That's not a threat, I'm
just stating facts. Are we clear on that?"
"No, Sydney, please don't do this to me," he pleaded, unable
to understand why his former mentor would resort to such extreme
measures.
"Tell me, Jarod, will I need to call a couple of agents up
here to assist in this or are you going to co-operate without causing
a scene?"
After a long pause, Jarod walked over to his bed and sat
down, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Anything you say, Sydney."
"You're making the right decision. I'll go over to the
hospital and get things arranged for you," he said glancing at his
watch. "In the mean time, you might want to get some of your things
packed and ready to go. After that, why don't you go down stairs and
spend time with your family until its time to leave."
"I don't feel like being around anyone right now," Jarod said
softly, tugging on the hem of his shirt.
"I understand that, but it would be healthier for you to
spend time with your family, rather then staying up here by yourself."
"I know. Just give me a little time," he mumbled, burying his
face in his hands.
"As you wish. We've accomplished a great deal today. You
mustn't feel ashamed," his psychiatrist said sympathetically,
rewarded with a distressed look from the other man.
"I finally thought I had completely recovered from my breakdown,
married Andi…and now…," he broke off unable to say any more.
"Jarod, you're a very private man and I know how difficult
this must be for you. After your confession yesterday about your
flashbacks, you digressed into complete denial for the second time.
Opening up about your emotional setback is a major step for you. You
need to see this as something positive," he said, finding the look of
fear in his counter-part's eyes extremely unsettling.
"I don't think I can go through this again. I don't have the
strength."
"Yes you can, and being on your medication will help you more than
you realize right now. I want you to take one of these right now with
water," he said tossing him the bottle of antidepressants, then
following him to the bathroom. After watching him take a dose, Sydney
then retrieved the bottle.
"You don't trust me."
"I know you're deeply distressed right now. I'm just being
cautious," he said, removing his razor and a few other sharp items
from the bathroom drawers, as Jarod shook his head in total
bewilderment and left the room.
"I'll give you a call later today, as soon as everything has been
arranged."
"Please Sydney, let me be the one to tell my family," the pretender
pleaded almost inaudibly, taking his place at the window, with his
back to the psychiatrist, feeling unbearably humiliated.
"As you wish," Sydney said, deeply regretting that it had had to come
to this. "I'll see you after a while, Jarod. Don't worry, everything
is going to work out for the best," he said, giving him a gentle pat
on the back, before leaving the room.
*
D.O.E. safe house
Living room
1:35 p.m.
"Son, how are you feeling?" Major Charles asked warmly, taken
back by the frightened look on his son's face.
"I'm find, dad. If you don't mind, I was just going to get something
to drink," he said, making a beeline for the kitchen, hating having
several D.O.A agents lurking around, staring at
him.
Kitchen moments later…
"Hi, Jarod. I hope you're hungry. Lunch is almost ready."
"That smells good, mom," the pretender said, opening the
refrigerator and peering inside, hoping he would be able to keep
something down.
"What are you looking for?"
"Oh, um, some seven up or something like that," he said,
fighting to keep his mind on what he was doing.
"The pop is in a cooler on the back porch. Here, let me show
you," Michael offered, sensing waves of intense fear emanating from
his "brother" the moment he waked by.
"That's all right. I think I can figure it out," Jarod said,
stepping through the back door and shutting it, wishing he hadn't
come downstairs after all, realizing he was beginning to have an
anxiety attack.
*
5 minutes later..
Michael, why don't you go check on your brother," Margaret
said with concern, wondering why it was taking Jarod so long to
select a drink. "Tell him its time to eat."
*
Back porch…
"Hey big brother, why are you sitting on the ice chest?"
Michael asked, as he stepped toward the pretender, who was totally
unresponsive.
"Jarod?" he said, nudging him gently, nearly losing his
footing as waves of ciaos, assaulted his mind.
"Michael, what's going on," Jarod asked looking around in
confusion, as he slowly came out of some sort of trance.
"You tell me. I think you completely lost it for a little
bit."
"I, um, must have had another flash back," Jarod confessed in
embarrassment, standing suddenly, and fishing for a Sprit from the
icy cooler, as if nothing was wrong.
"Mom, wanted me to tell you, dinner is ready. What's going
on, Jarod? Please tell me."
"Not right now," he said, brushing him off and going back
into the house.
Dinning room
Moments later…
Jarod entered the dinning room flanked by his clone, wishing
that there were a way of telling his family about his impending
hospitalization without completely losing face.
One look at everyone sitting around the table staring at him, told
him they had all probably heard his entire conversation with Sydney,
something that strangely hadn't even occurred to him.
"What's the matter, Jarod, aren't you going to sit down and
eat? Jarod, for heaven's sake, what are you staring at?" Andi asked
impatiently, wishing her husband would quit acting so strangely.
"Jarod, what's the matter with you?" Major Charles, asked,
leaving his seat and standing face to face with his son. "You look
like you just saw a ghost."
"Um, I was just…" Jarod began, in confusion. "I don't know."
"Here son, why don't you sit down," he said pulling out his
chair for him and taking his can of pop out of his hand.
"Thanks, dad, I think I just need something to eat."
"Well, you came to the right place," Emily said brightly,
passing him the mashed potatoes, hating the insensitive way Andi was
treating him.
"Lucky for me, I get to eat, before I go to the hospital.
They have terrible food there," he said, surprisingly calmly, not
daring to look anyone in the eye.
TBC please let me know what you think 
By jojarod 50
D.O.E. Safe house
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
7:35 PM
Andrea entered their bedroom and quietly lay down next to her sedated
husband, feeling extremely guilty for the anger she felt toward him.
Gently, she extended her arms around his waist, nestling her
head against his muscular chest, comforted by the rhythm of his
breathing feeling frightened and alone.
"We'll fight this thing together, I promise you," she said,
closing her tired eyes. "You should have never tried to hide this
from me."
Jarod flinched and turned on his side away from her mumbling
something unintelligible, obviously deeply distressed.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me, Jarod," she whispered, unable
to help her self, deeply hurt that he didn't really trust her enough
to level with her about his emotional relapse.
Down stairs Living room
7:35PM
"I'd like to start having sessions with him, as soon as tomorrow.
He'll probably sleep through the night and into the morning
considering his extreme deficit of sleep."
"He won't have anything to do with you after sedating him against his
will."
"Michael, I said that's enough."
"Dr. Meisser tried that with Jarod and was rewarded with deep seeded
anger and lack of trust. You'll have no appreciable co-operation for
days."
"Michael, whether he is angry with me tomorrow is immaterial. Jarod
is extremely paranoid right now. It is essential that he return to a
normal "sleep-cycle", before he becomes any more unmanageable.
"Wait a minute, what are you saying?" Major Charles asked, thinking
the worst. "Will he have to be hospitalized again?"
"Hopefully not. We'll just have to see how he does tomorrow and how
willing he is to co-operate."
"Why don't I give you a call in the morning at about, say, ten and
we'll schedule an appointment for him," Sydney said rising from his
seat and heading for the door.
"Thank you Sydney," Major Charles said cordially, wishing Jarod
hadn't become involved with the F.B.I., after finally recovering from
his devastating mental breakdown.
Later that evening…
"Andrea, it's for you," Emily said, handing her the phone.
"What?" she asked irritably.
"Andi, 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. "Ha has he, um,…. been hospitalized
again?"
"No, but Sydney found it necessary to give him a sedative
late this afternoon. Dear Lord, Broots. Jarod managed to act so
unaffected today, that 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 into
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. Say hi to Lindsey
for me," she said with a sad smile as he hung up the phone.
The next day – D.O.A. Safe house
Jarod and Andi's temporary bedroom
10:58 a.m.
Jarod opened his heavy eyelids and rubbed his hand over his sweaty
face feeling unusually groggy. The stillness surrounding him would
have lulled him back to sleep, were it not for the fact that he was
uncomfortably hot. Tossing aside his covers, he lay still, enjoying
the cooling effects of the ceiling fan above his bed.
Believing it was still very early in the morning, he reached out his
hand to connect with his sleeping wife, only to find that she wasn't
in bed. Confused, he glanced at the clock on the dresser shocked that
it read nearly 11:00AM. Hit with a jolt of anxiety he suddenly sat up
and was instantly reminded of his wounded shoulder.
Wincing in pain, he waited to reach equilibrium before he dare try
to stand up, blaming the sedative for his dizziness and Sydney for
his entire predicament.
After he was satisfied that he could maneuver adequately, he grabbed
some clothes from his dresser and entering the bathroom, barely
controlling the urge to slam the door. One look at his face in the
mirror, and his mind was flooded with unwanted memories of his clone,
Hans, and the horror he had felt while being shot to death.
Desperately fighting to clear his mind, he refocused on why he was
in the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and turned on the water.
Angrily, he pushed the shower curtain aside and stepped under the
water, wondering how on earth he was going to defuse his family's
concern for him after being told it was necessary to have him sedated
and "god only knows what else".
As the warm water sprayed over him, he braced himself against the
shower wall, bombarded by horrifying images playing over and over in
his mind of his being shot and Andrea being abandoned to fight the
assailant on her own.
For a moment, the water turned into blood and he nearly lost it
completely. Panic-stricken, he turned off the water and sank to his
knees, fighting to control his rapid breathing, feeling like he was
losing his mind.
"This can't be happening to me again," he whispered fearfully as he
regained his feet, grabbed a towel, and stepped out of the shower.
*
"Jarod, I'm happy you were finally able to get some decent
sleep. Are you hungry? I could make you some pigs in the blankets?"
Andi offered, stepping up to the bathroom door hoping to help her
husband feel more at ease.
"Um…hi Andi…I'll be right out."
"Jarod dried himself and slowly dressed wishing that he
didn't have to deal with his wife quite yet, knowing how volatile she
had become now that she was pregnant.
For a moment, he considered shaving to stall the inevitable, but one
look at his trembling hands settled the matter for him.
*
Moments later…
Their temporary bedroom
"Andi, please don't look at me that way," Jarod said, raking
his fingers through his damp hair in frustration, as he exited the
bathroom coming face to face with his troubled wife.
"What the hell did you expect? I'm worried sick about you.
You promised me you'd pull out of the sting operation if it started
getting to you, but you just couldn't stay away, could you, Jarod.
Not even, after Bailey had sense enough to have you removed from the
case."
"Andi, I can't believe you're bringing that up now. It was a
judgement call. I was trying to protect you and the rest of our
family.
"A judgement call? Where was your keen sense of judgement
when you hurried down to the field office after just having been shot
and faced off with your clone? Just look at yourself… now we're back
to square one."
"That's not true, Andi," he countered, closing his eyes for a moment
as another flashback assaulted his mind. "You must believe me; there
is nothing seriously wrong with me," he said, fighting to keep his
wits about him, his eyes and trembling hands, unfortunately betraying
his growing fear.
"Andi, I can't, for the life of me, understand why Sydney decided to
sedate me last night. I must admit, I was very emotional yesterday,
but inadequate sleep will do that to you. There's nothing abnormal
about that."
"Jarod, that sounds like a bunch of bull shit. Why the hell won't you
level with me?" she asked, nearly breaking into tears.
"I am, Andi. I'm not having a nervous breakdown, I promise.
Is that the assurance you need from me?" he asked, scrambling to come
up with a better explanation, looking down at her with his innocent
dark eyes.
"I explained about the nightmares the other day. Don't you remember?
They'll taper off as I distance my self from the cumulative stress of
what I've been through. Sydney's the one you ought to be angry at
right now. I'm going to see to it that he straightens this whole mess
out."
"Go for it, Jarod," she said, suddenly distancing herself
from him. "He should be here any minute to talk to you," she said,
glaring at him angrily. "Jarod, I don't understand why you keep lying
to me. I know about your flashbacks. For God's sake, I'm your wife.
You better start leveling with me," she said, turning on her heel and
exiting the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Or what?" Jarod shouted nervously as the door slammed shut,
feeling like he needed a serious drink.
*
(12:17 p.m.)
"I've got to get out of here," he breathed, reaching for the
doorknob just as the door swung open.
"No, you don't. Not until we've had our discussion," Sydney
said firmly, stepping into the room.
"Are you insane? What are you trying to do, destroy my
marriage?" Jarod spit, barely able to remain civil, his dark eyes
boring into his former mentor's. "I don't think Andi is going to take
much more of this."
"Jarod, please try and calm down. No one is meaning you any
harm," he admonished, clinically evaluating the other man's demeanor,
deeply concerned.
"Oh, yeah. Look how upset my wife is. You're going downstairs
with me right now, and tell my family that you made a mistake. You
had no right to sedate me. Do you realize how bad that looks."
"Stop it, Jarod. You've been suffering from devastating nightmares
totally disrupting what little sleep you've been managing to get and
have acute anxiety to the point that you're becoming paranoid. I had
to try something to help you stay asleep, I'm sorry that it hasn't
really made much difference," he said, amazed at how unstable he was.
"Your belligerent attitude toward me isn't doing either one of us any
good. You need help, Jarod. Can't you see that?"
"No, you're wrong. This can't be happening to me again," he said
nervously, starting to pace.
"Have you taken your medication today?"
"Isn't it enough that I feel strangely unfocused and jumpy,
thanks to the rebound effects of the sedative you gave me last night?
There's no telling what might happen if I were to take anything else."
"Jarod, you received an average dose of seconal around 6:00
p.m. yesterday and it's nearly 12:30p.m. now. Do your math. There's
no way you could still be feeling the effects of that shot."
"I said re-bound effects," he reiterated, stopping in front
of the doctor as if to emphasize his point.
"I understand that. Don't you see, your trouble concentrating,
extreme hyper-vigilance, and intense irritability are all symptoms of
P.T.S.D., which you are definitely suffering from. Your medications
will help you be able to cope better during this difficult time," he
said, feeling like he was talking to a brick wall.
"This is ridiculous. Between you and Dr. Everly, I've already managed
to accumulate four medications. That's definitely over-kill, don't
you agree?" he said resuming his pacing.
"Three medications, Jarod," his former mentor corrected, surprised
that he would make such a careless mistake. "As I recall, Dr. Everly
prescribed an antibiotic regimen and Percocet for the pain of your
gunshot wound. There is nothing sinister about that. You refused the
Xanax, which, incidentally, would have benefited you greatly.
Furthermore, the Thorozine I prescribed for you, obviously isn't
helping you," he said wondering if he had taken any of the
tranquilizers at all.
"Have you had any flash backs today?" he asked, remembering at the
hospital that that had been the single thing that had upset him the
most.
Jarod's expression mutated into a sick smile. "You'd like me
to say yes, wouldn't you," he said suddenly lunging at the good
doctor and ripping the black bag out of his hand. Marching over to
the door, he threw it open and tossed the bag out into the hallway.
"Get out."
"Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Jarod. Silence the messenger,"
he scolded, surprised at his sudden aggressiveness. "As I recall,
this is the second time in three days, that you have told me to
leave."
"You must realize, however, that getting rid of me is not going to
solve your problems. You're going to have to face this thing and deal
with it, before you get any worse. From what I've observed today,
you're declining disturbingly rapidly. Do you really want to become
psychotic again, because that's just where you're headed if you don't
let me help you now."
"I said, get out!"
"Jarod, you're not listening to…Jarod?" Sydney asked, rushing
over to the pretender, who had suddenly backed against the far wall
and slid down it to the floor.
Stooping down beside the fallen man, Sydney tried to take his
pulse, but Jarod became combative, apparently locked into some kind
of violent flash back, and nearly "cleaned his clock". Checking his
vitals was impossible and the psychiatrist was forced to back away
until what ever his patient was going through had passed.
In the mean time, Sydney retrieved his black bag from the
hallway, giving a frustrated look to the D.O.A. agent posted near by.
"Why don't you go downstairs and give us some privacy?"
"Yes, sir; sorry, sir."
*
Reentering the room, the doctor prepared 100cc of Thorozine, seizing
the opportunity to calm his dangerously hysterical patient down.
"I must say this, Jarod, you certainly are a hand full today," the
older man breathed, barely managing to administer the shot, without
being assaulted by the younger man.
"There you go, Jarod," his doctor said, as a much calmer Jarod
started coming around.
"Tell me what happened to you. Did you experience a flash back?"
Jarod started to say something and then fell silent again,
shaking his head in dismay. Sydney continued to wait patiently until
his patient was willing to talk.
"I was, um, being unstrapped from the chair in Raine's
laboratory by Willie just after they," the distraught young man said,
wrapping his arms tightly around himself and beginning to rock.
"Jarod, is that the only flashback you've had today or have there
been others?" he asked gently, knowing by the way he was trying to
comfort himself, that he was deeply traumatized.
Resigned to the inevitable, Jarod finally admitted to having
several flash backs in a short period of time, ranging from being
shot the other night, to re-experiencing the death of his clone.
"Why don't we have Andi come in and spend some time with you.
You mustn't shut her out of this part of your life. She's your wife."
"No, I don't want her to see me like this," he said, quickly
making it to his feet.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of. She's seen you like this
before. This is part of who you are now. You must learn to accept
this. You were irreparably damaged by what Lyle did to you, and
problems associated with that will surface during times of
extraordinary stress, such as you are experiencing right now. It will
always be this way for you. I'm sorry to have to be so blunt. Lying
to your wife and family and denying you have a problem will only
postpone your getting treatment until it is too late."
"I don't want to talk about this any more," he said, stepping
to the window wishing he would leave him alone.
"Bare with me a little longer. Jarod, I'm sorry but you're going to
need to be admitted to the hospital for a short period of time, until
we can get you stabilized."
"That won't be necessary," he said, spinning around. "Just
give me a little more time. If I'm not showing signs of improvement
by then, perhaps we could revisit this issue."
"I can't risk you becoming any more unmanageable. You need to
be in a controlled environment, so we can get you on a drug regimen
that works for you. If you don't co-operate willingly, I'll be forced
to have you committed against your will. That's not a threat, I'm
just stating facts. Are we clear on that?"
"No, Sydney, please don't do this to me," he pleaded, unable
to understand why his former mentor would resort to such extreme
measures.
"Tell me, Jarod, will I need to call a couple of agents up
here to assist in this or are you going to co-operate without causing
a scene?"
After a long pause, Jarod walked over to his bed and sat
down, feeling suddenly exhausted. "Anything you say, Sydney."
"You're making the right decision. I'll go over to the
hospital and get things arranged for you," he said glancing at his
watch. "In the mean time, you might want to get some of your things
packed and ready to go. After that, why don't you go down stairs and
spend time with your family until its time to leave."
"I don't feel like being around anyone right now," Jarod said
softly, tugging on the hem of his shirt.
"I understand that, but it would be healthier for you to
spend time with your family, rather then staying up here by yourself."
"I know. Just give me a little time," he mumbled, burying his
face in his hands.
"As you wish. We've accomplished a great deal today. You
mustn't feel ashamed," his psychiatrist said sympathetically,
rewarded with a distressed look from the other man.
"I finally thought I had completely recovered from my breakdown,
married Andi…and now…," he broke off unable to say any more.
"Jarod, you're a very private man and I know how difficult
this must be for you. After your confession yesterday about your
flashbacks, you digressed into complete denial for the second time.
Opening up about your emotional setback is a major step for you. You
need to see this as something positive," he said, finding the look of
fear in his counter-part's eyes extremely unsettling.
"I don't think I can go through this again. I don't have the
strength."
"Yes you can, and being on your medication will help you more than
you realize right now. I want you to take one of these right now with
water," he said tossing him the bottle of antidepressants, then
following him to the bathroom. After watching him take a dose, Sydney
then retrieved the bottle.
"You don't trust me."
"I know you're deeply distressed right now. I'm just being
cautious," he said, removing his razor and a few other sharp items
from the bathroom drawers, as Jarod shook his head in total
bewilderment and left the room.
"I'll give you a call later today, as soon as everything has been
arranged."
"Please Sydney, let me be the one to tell my family," the pretender
pleaded almost inaudibly, taking his place at the window, with his
back to the psychiatrist, feeling unbearably humiliated.
"As you wish," Sydney said, deeply regretting that it had had to come
to this. "I'll see you after a while, Jarod. Don't worry, everything
is going to work out for the best," he said, giving him a gentle pat
on the back, before leaving the room.
*
D.O.E. safe house
Living room
1:35 p.m.
"Son, how are you feeling?" Major Charles asked warmly, taken
back by the frightened look on his son's face.
"I'm find, dad. If you don't mind, I was just going to get something
to drink," he said, making a beeline for the kitchen, hating having
several D.O.A agents lurking around, staring at
him.
Kitchen moments later…
"Hi, Jarod. I hope you're hungry. Lunch is almost ready."
"That smells good, mom," the pretender said, opening the
refrigerator and peering inside, hoping he would be able to keep
something down.
"What are you looking for?"
"Oh, um, some seven up or something like that," he said,
fighting to keep his mind on what he was doing.
"The pop is in a cooler on the back porch. Here, let me show
you," Michael offered, sensing waves of intense fear emanating from
his "brother" the moment he waked by.
"That's all right. I think I can figure it out," Jarod said,
stepping through the back door and shutting it, wishing he hadn't
come downstairs after all, realizing he was beginning to have an
anxiety attack.
*
5 minutes later..
Michael, why don't you go check on your brother," Margaret
said with concern, wondering why it was taking Jarod so long to
select a drink. "Tell him its time to eat."
*
Back porch…
"Hey big brother, why are you sitting on the ice chest?"
Michael asked, as he stepped toward the pretender, who was totally
unresponsive.
"Jarod?" he said, nudging him gently, nearly losing his
footing as waves of ciaos, assaulted his mind.
"Michael, what's going on," Jarod asked looking around in
confusion, as he slowly came out of some sort of trance.
"You tell me. I think you completely lost it for a little
bit."
"I, um, must have had another flash back," Jarod confessed in
embarrassment, standing suddenly, and fishing for a Sprit from the
icy cooler, as if nothing was wrong.
"Mom, wanted me to tell you, dinner is ready. What's going
on, Jarod? Please tell me."
"Not right now," he said, brushing him off and going back
into the house.
Dinning room
Moments later…
Jarod entered the dinning room flanked by his clone, wishing
that there were a way of telling his family about his impending
hospitalization without completely losing face.
One look at everyone sitting around the table staring at him, told
him they had all probably heard his entire conversation with Sydney,
something that strangely hadn't even occurred to him.
"What's the matter, Jarod, aren't you going to sit down and
eat? Jarod, for heaven's sake, what are you staring at?" Andi asked
impatiently, wishing her husband would quit acting so strangely.
"Jarod, what's the matter with you?" Major Charles, asked,
leaving his seat and standing face to face with his son. "You look
like you just saw a ghost."
"Um, I was just…" Jarod began, in confusion. "I don't know."
"Here son, why don't you sit down," he said pulling out his
chair for him and taking his can of pop out of his hand.
"Thanks, dad, I think I just need something to eat."
"Well, you came to the right place," Emily said brightly,
passing him the mashed potatoes, hating the insensitive way Andi was
treating him.
"Lucky for me, I get to eat, before I go to the hospital.
They have terrible food there," he said, surprisingly calmly, not
daring to look anyone in the eye.
TBC please let me know what you think 
