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In Pursuit of Happiness
Part 49
By jojarod 50 2-09-
`04
(I don't own them, I'm getting no money -
please a movie for closure!)
St. Fransais Hospital – Yellow Bird Island
Day 3 10:45 AM
Psych-ward Room 503
Hotel room near the Munich, Germany airport…
"Hans get away from that computer, Jarod demanded, in a low menacing
voice, as he slipped into the room, training his gun on the back of
the unsuspecting foe.
"Feigning acceptance Hans immediately ceased typing, keeping
his back to the other man while reaching for his ankle gun on the
sly.
"Get away from the computer," the pretender reiterated,
feeling decidedly nauseous being forced to face off with his clone.
"Take it easy pal. I assure you that I'm not in the mood to
die today," he said, rising from his chair and slowly turning
around, shooting the pretender at point blank range, knocking him
off his feet.
"Lyle, what the hell?," Jarod breathed through gritted teeth, nearly
choking on the words as he rolled on his side, repeatedly firing his
gun into his nemesis, blinded by seething rage.
Pulling down the chair beside him, the terrified man tried
in vain to protect himself, finally resorting to curling into a ball
as the bullets ravaged his body.
Jarod managed to regain his feet and stagger over to the
other man clutching his wounded side anxious to retrieve Lyle's gun
before he fired again.
"Killing…me…won't…change…anything, you…fool. You'll…never…be…
able to…stop…all…of…us," Hans managed, gazing at him with a vacant
look.
"Hans, no, I thought you were…dear Lord," Jarod whimpered
with a mournful cry, as he dropped his gun and fell to his knees
pressing his palm against his chest wound, trying to stem the flow
of blood.
"How many times did the Centre clone me? Hans…Hans?" he asked
frantically, as his clone slumped over, gasping his last breath.
"NOooooooooooo."
* * *
Psych-ward
Room 503
10:47 AM
Jarod's eyes flew open, urgently looking around the room,
realizing at once where he was.
Barely managing to hit the up button on his bed, he struggled to
catch his breath, trapped in a hideous anxiety attack.
Skillfully working the all too familiar problem, he
concentrated on slowing his rapid breathing; reminding himself he
was in no immediate danger of having a heart attack or losing
control of his mind.
After a few agonizing moments, he pulled out of it, leaning
back on his pillow until he somewhat calmed down.
Feeling deeply traumatized by the whole ordeal, Jarod left
his bed for the bathroom with his half empty water pitcher in hand
desperate for a diversion to clear his mind.
After running the cold water and refilling the pitcher, he exited
the bathroom still reeling from his latest nightmare.
"Excuse me, Agent Charles, but I have some medications for you," the
day nurse said as she entered his room, startling the preoccupied
man so badly, he dropped his pitcher, splashing water on his pants
and all over the floor.
"I'm so sorry," the nurse said in alarm. "Just a moment, let me get
you a towel," she said, hurrying off to the bathroom.
"It's alright. It wasn't your fault. I just wasn't paying attention
to what I was doing," he offered blushing fiercely as he eased the
towel from her hand fully intending to clean up the mess.
"Why don't you go ahead and sit down, Housekeeping will take care of
that," she insisted, giving him a reassuring look, as she left the
room with the glass from his nightstand.
"Here you go. These ought to make you feel more comfortable."
Jarod remained silent as he held out his trembling hand for the tiny
cup, staring at the pills at length before finally forcing himself
to take them.
"I hope this didn't ruin your appetite. They'll be bringing you a
tray shortly and it's actually a decent meal," she encouraged,
knowing full well that he was still struggling to take in an
adequate amount of nourishment.
"Fried chicken is the only thing they seem able to get right," she
said, with a sincere smile, hoping to cheer the obviously despondent
young man.
"Thank you," he said managing an almost convincing smile.
* * *
1:00 PM
Psych-ward
Room 503
The fact that Jarod was obsessing about leaving the hospital
again was inescapable to his psychiatrist as he entered his
patient's room, finding the younger man planted in front of the
large plate glass window.
"I'm glad to see your sedative has worn off, Jarod. How are
you feeling?"
Disheartened by his lack of response, he tried
again. "Jarod, what are you looking at?" he asked with concern as
the pretender continued staring out the window in silence.
"Why don't we sit down and have our discussion," he coxed,
stepping up to the younger man and placing his hand on his shoulder.
"Please, just leave me alone," he pleaded in a low voice,
shrugging off his hand.
"I'm not sure that would be in your best interest right
now," he said, taking the seat on the right and flipping open his
patient's chart.
"Jarod, we don't need to talk very long," he offered,
rewarded by his reluctant patient sitting down in the chair beside
him.
"Give me your hands for a moment," Sydney instructed as he
reached out for them, not giving him time to object.
"Very good. It looks like your tranquilizer is finally doing its
job," he said, disheartened that Jarod seemed decidedly depressed,
despite what seemed like a very positive thing.
"Are you feeling more comfortable now?" he asked, still clueless as
to what was going through the genius' mind.
"I, um, feel numb all over and I'm very thirsty, but I am much
calmer," he admitted reluctantly, struggling to come to terms with
the implications of being so heavily medicated. "Surely I would do
better on a lesser dose."
"I'm sorry, Jarod, but Dr. Forums reduced it yesterday and
it seriously undermined your ability to cope. I'm sure you already
understand that the less savory side effects of your medication will
become milder after you've been on it for a little while."
"I know," he said, quietly, running a hand over his face
trying to break through the drug induced haze, wondering whether the
tradeoff was worth feeling this badly.
"Jarod, what's bothering you the most about Han's death?
Experiencing it or something else?"
"Aren't you tired of hearing about that yet?"
"Of course not, Jarod. You know this is necessary."
The pretender became eerily still, apparently locked into some kind
of internal struggle.
"Please tell me what you're thinking?"
"The Feds used me just like you people did at the Centre. They told
me I was to keep Han's from infiltrating their data base. That
seemed innocuous enough. Then, without my knowledge they used my
skills to keep him occupied on line just long enough to put a swat
team in place to shoot him to death," he managed, closing his eyes
tightly, reliving the horrifying moment for the umpteenth time.
"Jarod, are you all right?" he asked realizing that he was
experiencing a flashback.
"Um, it wasn't that bad this time," he managed, trying his best to
preserver.
"It wasn't your fault," Sydney reiterated, realizing that his
inability to resolve the issue was tearing him apart.
"I would have realized exactly how it was going to play out, but I
was too preoccupied with my own personal interests to care," he
confessed, breaking into a cold sweat. "I might as well have pulled
the trigger myself. The moment keeps playing over and over in my
mind. I can't seem to let it go," he said scarcely able to speak.
"Jarod, what about your family, Andi and your unborn child; do you
really wish that you had acted any differently?"
"No," he admitted, raking his fingers through his hair.
"Listen to me, Jarod. You did the only thing you could. You
need to forgive yourself before you drive yourself over the edge.
Life often times is a very messy ordeal. You can't keep punishing
yourself for not being able to save Hans as well as protecting your
wife and unborn child. Hans was a victim of the Centre's madness,
not yours."
"I could have spooked him into leaving," he said wearily, "if I had
been aware of what they were planning on doing," he said shaking his
head in dismay.
"I'm sorry, Jarod but I strongly disagree. The agents
assigned to the case had every intention of capturing him alive.
Even if you had known, there's no way you could have predict how
Hans would have react," Sydney offered, hoping Jarod would begin to
accept what happened without second guessing it any more.
"Jarod, why don't we focus on what happened last night for a little
bit? Why on earth did you attempt to leave the facility? You had
already taken a very strong sedative on an empty stomach and had
only an outside window of 10 to 15 minutes before it took affect."
"Did I actually do that? I wasn't sure. I thought it might
have been part of one of my nightmares," Jarod admitted, raking his
hand over his numb face, confused by the memory of what had taken
place.
"Yes you did, Jarod. Don't you remember? We talked about it
this morning?"
"Vaguely; as you might recall, I was extremely heavily medicated at
the time," he said bitterly intentionally glairing at him.
"Jarod, what could possibly have motivated you to try such a
risky stunt?
"I don't believe a sufficient background check was done on the DOE
agents guarding my family. I never have; end of story," he said
standing up cradling his arm defensively, beginning to slowly pace.
Sydney studied his agitated patient, knowing that Bailey had
insisted on overseeing the entire screening process himself, after
the hospital debacle, seriously doubting there was any validity to
his claims. "I've seen how dramatically your nightmares are
affecting you. It stands to reason, that such vivid dreams would
precipitate a certain degree of excessive concern," he said,
selecting his words carefully.
"I'm not paranoid."
"I didn't say you were, Jarod. Why don't I give Broots a
call and have him stop by? You can explain to him your concerns and
instruct him on how you want him to proceed," he offered trying to
placate his obviously paranoid patent. "In the mean time, you're
scheduled to meet with an occupational therapist, who will help you
explore your issues through expressive art work in about a half an
hour."
"Give me access to Dr. Forum's computer. I'm perfectly
capable of handling it myself."
"I'm sorry, Jarod, but that's just not feasible right now,"
he said purposefully stalling him. "What if I have Broots visit with
you before your afternoon session? He can begin a back ground check
on the DOE agents in question. Will that satisfy you?"
"You're enjoying manipulating me, aren't you?" he said giving him an
incredulous look.
"No. On the contrary, I'm trying to help you resolve this
important issue. Why don't you sit back down for a little bit. I
have something further to share with you."
"Broots procured the crime scene photos from Germany exactly
matching the sketches you rendered in your Bible," he said,
evaluating his uneasy reaction.
"I'm sorry I doubted you. Your link with Hans was way beyond
anything ever experienced by any human being. This is an
extraordinary occurrence apparently exclusive to you and your
clones. I believe expressing your ordeal through differing media
will be greatly beneficial to you."
"Differing media?" he repeated with a definite edge. "I looked for
my pencil after lunch and couldn't find it, so I asked for another
one and was turned down. Apparently, I should have asked for
something without a point. Surely the problems I'm experiencing
don't warrant such extreme measures," he said, unable to suppress an
unexpected deep yawn.
"I realize that may seem rather far-fetched to you right now, Jarod,
however, there is the issue of the voices you've been hearing since
Han's death."
"As I recall, similar voices convinced you to take a lethal overdose
of Thorozine for your family's sake and you almost died," he said,
his voice faltering, betraying how deeply it had affected him.
"I assure you there is no correlation between the two," Jarod said
defensively, stepping away from his chair and staring out the
window, distressed that he had even brought that up.
"I'm sorry I ever told you about my experience with Hans. I should
have known that you would jump to conclusions and throw it back in
my face," he said rubbing his hand over his eyes fighting the
sedative effects of the tranquilizer, feeling it was seriously
undermining his ability to debate with the other man.
"Jarod, why don't you sit back down and explain to me the
difference? I'm not your enemy. On the contrarily, I'm trying to
help you," his psychiatrist reminded him, anxious to get at the
truth.
Jarod gave in with a heavy sigh and eased back into his seat.
"It's more like an echo of his hysterical screams as he slipped
into hell, that hasn't gone away yet. That's a far cry from hearing
voices telling me to intentionally destroy myself," he said eyeing
the other man nervously hoping he would finally understand.
"That seems like a valid explanation, I'll consider what
you've said. You must understand, Jarod, that I care very deeply
about you; I just don't want anything to happen to you. Why don't
you relax for a little bit, before Broots arrives. I want you to be
rested for your next session," he suggested, anxious to evaluate the
sketches he had requested from the therapist.
Psych-ward
Room 110
Occupational Therapy
2:30 PM
The occupational therapist struggled to remain neutral as
the browned eyed young man finished the last in a series of sketches.
"You're doing an excellent job, Agent Charles. Your doctor
requested a few more sketches, if you feel up to it."
"I'm very thirsty; may I have a drink of water first?"
* * *
Dr. Forums' Office
Room 142 Ground level
3:35 PM.
"I've never seen such disturbing drawings in my life," Dr.
Forums said, flipping through the sketchpad and pausing at the last
three.
"I believe there is a firm barrier between life and death that can
not be crossed unless you are deceased. I'm speculating that he was
so deeply traumatized by experiencing his clone's death that he had
a break with reality and his mind extrapolated the rest."
"Perhaps you're right. Take a look at these sketches he made
about a year ago illustrating what he experienced while on an
overdose of an experimental hallucinogenic drug. The similarities
are undenialable."
"Jacob, Jarod is becoming increasingly paranoid about the DOA agents
guarding his wife. I'm convinced that he's going to slip out of here
the first chance he gets. Frankly, there's no way of stopping him
short of locking him in a padded cell and that would have
devastating repercussions on him emotionally. We might as well
release him this afternoon. I can continue to have sessions with him
at the safe house."
"You know him better than I do. Do you think there is any chance
that his paranoia could lead to violence?"
"No, definitely not. It's not in his nature to do something like
that. If it were, he would have killed Lyle a long time ago, for
murdering his brother. The only issue I might have with him is
whether he would be cooperative concerning remaining heavily
medicated for a while. He despises being on drugs."
"I certainly commend him for that, though I agree that if he
refuses his medication he would become very unstable again and find
himself being committed not in a hospital room, but under lock and
key. I imagine he'd do almost anything to avoid having that happen."
"Perhaps you could impress on him the importance of his
continuing to cooperate in that area."
"Certainly. Why don't I go ahead and evaluate him now. That way he
will have time to recover from any distress he experiences before he
leaves here," he said, fascinated by such an unusual case.
"That's fine, Jacob. I'll have pharmacy make the arrangements."
3:50 PM
Psych-ward Room 503
"Jarod, would you like to talk with me for a little bit?" Dr. Forums
requested carefully as he entered his patient's room noticing that
he had been asleep, not wanting to startle him.
"Um, yes, certainly," Jarod replied, hitting the up button on his
bed, feeling vaguely self-conscious that he had fallen asleep.
"How is your medication working for you?"
"It's far more oppressive than the dose I was given yesterday, but
I've been told it is necessary for right now," he said, running a
hand over his numb face, feeling decidedly murky.
"I'm glad you understand that. Once you're released, you'll be
required to remain on this level of medication for quite some time.
Would you be willing to do that?"
"Are you implying that I will be going back to the DOA safe house
soon?" he asked trying not to get his hopes up too high.
"Yes, after our session," he said, rewarded by a shocked look from
his patient.
"You must understand, though, that you'll be required to take your
tranquilizer and antidepressant as prescribed and agree to a
sedative at bed time for at least another week, or we'll be forced
to readmit you to the psych-ward under lock and key for the duration
of your treatment.
"I understand," he said, hating the fact that he was expected to
relinquish so much of his personal control just to be released.
"Jarod, I'd like to explore with you the night that you were shot.
You haven't been very forthcoming about that."
"What do you want to know," Jarod asked eyeing him nervously,
subconsciously rubbing his wrist.
"Is your wrist bothering you?" he asked observing that his patient
had suddenly lost all his coloring sending up a red flag.
"No," he said, discretely removing it from his sight.
"Why don't you show it to me?"
"Is this really necessary? There's really nothing to see," he said
irritably.
"Jarod, are you trying to hide something from me?"
"No, of course not," Jarod admitted, grudgingly showing him his
wrist.
"That's a wicked scar. Is your other wrist scared as well?"
"Yes," he admitted self-consciously, looking away.
"How did this happen to you?"
"It's really not important now. I had extensive counseling for this
in the states."
"That's not what I asked you, Jarod, is it?"
"The issue has been resolved. I try not to dwell on it, any more"
"You're being very evasive. Would you rather not discuss it with me?"
"No, of course not," he said, struggling against his medication
hampering his reasoning. "It happened after I underwent an
interrogation back at the Centre," he said sickened just thinking
about it.
"You mean after you were brutally beaten and tortured."
"They wanted to know where my father took Michael," he said, hating
the attention he was receiving, diverting his doctor's attention
away from what was done to him.
"Michael? Is he your clone?"
"Yes."
"Who wanted to know?"
"A man named Mr. Lyle."
"Your wife's twin? Isn't he the one who arranged to have you
murdered and your wife kidnapped for the pretender project in
Germany?"
"He has no real power right now, but something like that,"
he offered closing his eyes trying to steady himself.
"Jarod, if this is too much for you we can end this
discussion right now."
"I already told you, I'm fine."
"I'm sorry, Jarod. I just wanted to make sure," Dr. Forums
said, studying his fragile patient carefully. "What happened to you
next?"
"I was given an injection before being taken to a room with…
shackles," he managed rubbing his hand over his face.
"What kind of injection were you given?"
"Oh, um, some sort of hypnotic truth serum, Mr. Raines had
been experimenting with, during the Vietnam war."
"You were given an overdose of the drug?"
"You obviously already know that," Jarod bristled.
"You're right, Jarod, I read your chart, but it's beneficial
for you to talk about it. Why don't you tell me about the shackles?"
"They were mounted on the wall," he said quietly. "Two for the
wrists and two for the ankles," he explained. "They were metal
unlike the kidskin that was usually used to prevent injury, by
Lyle's request."
"For your wrists and ankles?"
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, tugging at the hem of his
shirt, totally unaware that he was doing so.
"Are your ankles as damaged as your wrists?"
"Yes," he said uncomfortably shifting in his seat.
"Why don't we take a break? Would you like a drink of
water?'
"Yes, please."
* * *
"Had you ever been on a Hallucinogen before?"
"No."
"What was it like?"
"It started out with visual hallucinations of extremely pure
colors and physical sensations of euphoria mingled with palpations,
extreme nausea, and cramps. It wasn't pleasant at all."
"Were you frightened?"
"Yes."
"Is that all there was to it?"
"No," Jarod said, becoming visibly shaken as he remembered
that horrific night.
"Jarod, we can stop now, if you would like. This has nothing
to do with whether you are released this afternoon or not," he
informed him.
"No, I can handle it" he said quietly, pausing for several
minutes to regain his composure, before continuing again. "The wall
opposite to me, had an armature with lighting devices that flashed
on and off at varying tempos. When they finally turned them off, I
was plunged into utter darkness…the hallucinations were extremely
terrifying, I couldn't rationalize what was going on. I… I thought I
had died and gone to hell."
"Like Hans?"
"What? No, of course not. He actually died."
"Jarod, do you remember sketching these pictures about a year ago?"
"Where did you get these?"
"Sydney brought them in to make a comparison with the one's you did
today. Jarod, do you see any similarity between these and the last
three that you drew today."
"No, that's not possible."
"These sketches are yours aren't they?"
"Yes, but… after he died he…"
"No, Jarod. You were so deeply traumatized by Hans' death that it
must have triggered a horrific flashback from your past.
Specifically from this," Dr. Forums gently told him, pointing to his
earlier sketch, gratified to help him find some closure concerning
Hans' fate.
* * *
Dr. Forums' Office Room 142
Ground level
4:30 PM
"Sydney, I didn't expect to find you here," Dr. Forums said,
glancing at his watch."
"I just got back from the DOE safe house. I had a productive
discussion with Jarod's wife and family. Andrea is going to be in
charge of Jarod's medications, for right now. Everything is set for
him to be released. I'm anxious to hear how he handled himself with
you."
"He is a remarkable young man. How he was able to detail what
happened to him back at the Centre without breaking down, in his
current state, speaks volumes about his tenacity. I think he
realizes that he had a break with reality after Hans' death. We
talked at length about his fears concerning his mental status and I
think he realizes what happened to him isn't a threat to his overall
mental health. That should be a substantial relief for him."
"Thank you, Jacob. I'm in your debt. Did he agree with our
requirements concerning his medications?"
"Yes. I think he'd do virtually anything to be back at the DOA safe
house with his family."
* * *
The DOA Safe house
5:15 PM
The foyer
"Andrea, I've been extremely worried about you," Jarod confessed,
holding her carefully in a gentle embrace, barely able to keep his
emotions in check. How are you feeling? Are you still experiencing
morning sickness?" he asked, grateful that the rest of his family
was giving him time alone with her.
"I love being pregnant with our baby," she whispered, giving him a
gentle kiss.
"How are you doing, Jarod?" You look like you've finally gotten some
rest."
"I seem to fall asleep terribly easily on the medication Sydney
prescribed for me, "he admitted, deciding to let her know up
front."I just need a little time to adjust to it," he said, as he
gazed into her lovely eyes, craving intimacy with her.
"Have you had dinner yet?"
"No, but if you don't mind, I'd rather unpack my bag and settle in a
little bit first," he ventured, studying her reaction for any sign
of dissent.
"Take as much time as you need," Andrea encouraged, having been
coaches by Sydney to be extremely sensitive to his needs.
"Son, how are you doing?" Major Charles asked, as he ventured into
the foyer with his hands in his pockets.
"Um, hi, dad, I'm better now," he offered uncomfortably, raking his
hand over his foggy eyes, distressed that he felt so out of it.
"You've got a great start on a beard, Jarod. It looks pretty good,"
he said off the cuff, immediately hating himself for mentioning it,
suddenly realizing that Sydney must have forbid him from having
anything potentially dangerous while on the psych-ward.
"No, dad, that was unintentional. I, um just forgot to pack my
razor. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll put my things away now," he
said in a low voice, making a bee line for the staircase, managing a
less than graceful exit.
* * *
Moments later…
"What's wrong with Jarod? He barely said hi to me," Michael asked,
not really understanding how people usually related to one another.
"I think he was a little overwhelmed by all the attention he was
getting considering he just arrived home," Margaret explained,
trying to hide the deep concerned she felt concerning her son.
"Mom, an agent just brought in some Kentucky Fried Chicken. I'm
going to get the paper plates out," Emily, said, knowing that her
big brother's emotional problems were seriously affecting their
mother.
"Thank you, Emily, please let me help you with that," she offered,
craving something constructive to do. *
* *
Master bedroom
5:30 PM
"Jarod finished unpacking his clothes and sat down on the bed
skimming the instructions for the rechargeable shaver Sydney had
given him, very interested in the beard trimming feature.
"Letting out a heavy sigh, he took it out of the box and headed for
the bathroom, irritated that his misguided psychiatrist had
confiscated his Mach III razor and extra refill cartridges.
* * *
5:55 PM
Master bedroom
"Jarod, wake up," Andrea said, giving her sleeping husband a gentle
nudge.
"What's the matter, Andi?" he asked with concern, urgently looking
around groggily, trying to get his bearings.
"Are you hungry or would you like to sleep a little longer?" she
asked, hating to see him so confused.
"Um, I hadn't planned on going to sleep at all," he admitted with a
sheepish smile, closing his lap top and easing off the bed. "I feel
like I have narcolepsy," he said, running a hand over his face.
"I'd rather see you like this, then strung out the way you were
before."
"What's for dinner?" he asked purposely changing the subject.
"One of the Agents brought in fried chicken."
"Mmm., that sounds really good," he said not caring that he'd had it
for lunch, breaking into an easy smile, relieved to be reunited with
his wife and family again.
"I had no idea you liked chicken that much," she said in amusement,
turning around to face him.
"On the contrary, I like being home with you," he said in a low sexy
voice, pushing the door closed and gathering her into a loving
embrace.
* * *
Dinning room 25 minutes later…
"It wasn't easy, but we saved you some chicken," Major Charles said
in amusement noticing their flushed complexions, as Andrea and Jarod
entered the room.
"Thanks dad," Jarod said, pulling out a seat for Andrea glancing at
everyone around the table with a modest smile, his eyes resting on
his mother's anxious face before taking his seat.
"How about some mashed potatoes, big brother?" Emily asked, passing
him the quart container.
"Thank you, Em, I'm going to eat them this time," he said with a shy
smile, relieved that that chapter of his life was behind him.
"Agent Broots is on the line," one of the older agents said,
stepping into the room. "Would you prefer to take it now or later?"
"Now will be fine, Agent Morris. I'll take it in my bedroom," Jarod
said evenly, downing part of his water, before apologizing to
everyone and excusing himself from the table.
Feedback keeps me from writing in the dark - -smiles, jojarod
Part 49
By jojarod 50 2-09-
`04
(I don't own them, I'm getting no money -
please a movie for closure!)
St. Fransais Hospital – Yellow Bird Island
Day 3 10:45 AM
Psych-ward Room 503
Hotel room near the Munich, Germany airport…
"Hans get away from that computer, Jarod demanded, in a low menacing
voice, as he slipped into the room, training his gun on the back of
the unsuspecting foe.
"Feigning acceptance Hans immediately ceased typing, keeping
his back to the other man while reaching for his ankle gun on the
sly.
"Get away from the computer," the pretender reiterated,
feeling decidedly nauseous being forced to face off with his clone.
"Take it easy pal. I assure you that I'm not in the mood to
die today," he said, rising from his chair and slowly turning
around, shooting the pretender at point blank range, knocking him
off his feet.
"Lyle, what the hell?," Jarod breathed through gritted teeth, nearly
choking on the words as he rolled on his side, repeatedly firing his
gun into his nemesis, blinded by seething rage.
Pulling down the chair beside him, the terrified man tried
in vain to protect himself, finally resorting to curling into a ball
as the bullets ravaged his body.
Jarod managed to regain his feet and stagger over to the
other man clutching his wounded side anxious to retrieve Lyle's gun
before he fired again.
"Killing…me…won't…change…anything, you…fool. You'll…never…be…
able to…stop…all…of…us," Hans managed, gazing at him with a vacant
look.
"Hans, no, I thought you were…dear Lord," Jarod whimpered
with a mournful cry, as he dropped his gun and fell to his knees
pressing his palm against his chest wound, trying to stem the flow
of blood.
"How many times did the Centre clone me? Hans…Hans?" he asked
frantically, as his clone slumped over, gasping his last breath.
"NOooooooooooo."
* * *
Psych-ward
Room 503
10:47 AM
Jarod's eyes flew open, urgently looking around the room,
realizing at once where he was.
Barely managing to hit the up button on his bed, he struggled to
catch his breath, trapped in a hideous anxiety attack.
Skillfully working the all too familiar problem, he
concentrated on slowing his rapid breathing; reminding himself he
was in no immediate danger of having a heart attack or losing
control of his mind.
After a few agonizing moments, he pulled out of it, leaning
back on his pillow until he somewhat calmed down.
Feeling deeply traumatized by the whole ordeal, Jarod left
his bed for the bathroom with his half empty water pitcher in hand
desperate for a diversion to clear his mind.
After running the cold water and refilling the pitcher, he exited
the bathroom still reeling from his latest nightmare.
"Excuse me, Agent Charles, but I have some medications for you," the
day nurse said as she entered his room, startling the preoccupied
man so badly, he dropped his pitcher, splashing water on his pants
and all over the floor.
"I'm so sorry," the nurse said in alarm. "Just a moment, let me get
you a towel," she said, hurrying off to the bathroom.
"It's alright. It wasn't your fault. I just wasn't paying attention
to what I was doing," he offered blushing fiercely as he eased the
towel from her hand fully intending to clean up the mess.
"Why don't you go ahead and sit down, Housekeeping will take care of
that," she insisted, giving him a reassuring look, as she left the
room with the glass from his nightstand.
"Here you go. These ought to make you feel more comfortable."
Jarod remained silent as he held out his trembling hand for the tiny
cup, staring at the pills at length before finally forcing himself
to take them.
"I hope this didn't ruin your appetite. They'll be bringing you a
tray shortly and it's actually a decent meal," she encouraged,
knowing full well that he was still struggling to take in an
adequate amount of nourishment.
"Fried chicken is the only thing they seem able to get right," she
said, with a sincere smile, hoping to cheer the obviously despondent
young man.
"Thank you," he said managing an almost convincing smile.
* * *
1:00 PM
Psych-ward
Room 503
The fact that Jarod was obsessing about leaving the hospital
again was inescapable to his psychiatrist as he entered his
patient's room, finding the younger man planted in front of the
large plate glass window.
"I'm glad to see your sedative has worn off, Jarod. How are
you feeling?"
Disheartened by his lack of response, he tried
again. "Jarod, what are you looking at?" he asked with concern as
the pretender continued staring out the window in silence.
"Why don't we sit down and have our discussion," he coxed,
stepping up to the younger man and placing his hand on his shoulder.
"Please, just leave me alone," he pleaded in a low voice,
shrugging off his hand.
"I'm not sure that would be in your best interest right
now," he said, taking the seat on the right and flipping open his
patient's chart.
"Jarod, we don't need to talk very long," he offered,
rewarded by his reluctant patient sitting down in the chair beside
him.
"Give me your hands for a moment," Sydney instructed as he
reached out for them, not giving him time to object.
"Very good. It looks like your tranquilizer is finally doing its
job," he said, disheartened that Jarod seemed decidedly depressed,
despite what seemed like a very positive thing.
"Are you feeling more comfortable now?" he asked, still clueless as
to what was going through the genius' mind.
"I, um, feel numb all over and I'm very thirsty, but I am much
calmer," he admitted reluctantly, struggling to come to terms with
the implications of being so heavily medicated. "Surely I would do
better on a lesser dose."
"I'm sorry, Jarod, but Dr. Forums reduced it yesterday and
it seriously undermined your ability to cope. I'm sure you already
understand that the less savory side effects of your medication will
become milder after you've been on it for a little while."
"I know," he said, quietly, running a hand over his face
trying to break through the drug induced haze, wondering whether the
tradeoff was worth feeling this badly.
"Jarod, what's bothering you the most about Han's death?
Experiencing it or something else?"
"Aren't you tired of hearing about that yet?"
"Of course not, Jarod. You know this is necessary."
The pretender became eerily still, apparently locked into some kind
of internal struggle.
"Please tell me what you're thinking?"
"The Feds used me just like you people did at the Centre. They told
me I was to keep Han's from infiltrating their data base. That
seemed innocuous enough. Then, without my knowledge they used my
skills to keep him occupied on line just long enough to put a swat
team in place to shoot him to death," he managed, closing his eyes
tightly, reliving the horrifying moment for the umpteenth time.
"Jarod, are you all right?" he asked realizing that he was
experiencing a flashback.
"Um, it wasn't that bad this time," he managed, trying his best to
preserver.
"It wasn't your fault," Sydney reiterated, realizing that his
inability to resolve the issue was tearing him apart.
"I would have realized exactly how it was going to play out, but I
was too preoccupied with my own personal interests to care," he
confessed, breaking into a cold sweat. "I might as well have pulled
the trigger myself. The moment keeps playing over and over in my
mind. I can't seem to let it go," he said scarcely able to speak.
"Jarod, what about your family, Andi and your unborn child; do you
really wish that you had acted any differently?"
"No," he admitted, raking his fingers through his hair.
"Listen to me, Jarod. You did the only thing you could. You
need to forgive yourself before you drive yourself over the edge.
Life often times is a very messy ordeal. You can't keep punishing
yourself for not being able to save Hans as well as protecting your
wife and unborn child. Hans was a victim of the Centre's madness,
not yours."
"I could have spooked him into leaving," he said wearily, "if I had
been aware of what they were planning on doing," he said shaking his
head in dismay.
"I'm sorry, Jarod but I strongly disagree. The agents
assigned to the case had every intention of capturing him alive.
Even if you had known, there's no way you could have predict how
Hans would have react," Sydney offered, hoping Jarod would begin to
accept what happened without second guessing it any more.
"Jarod, why don't we focus on what happened last night for a little
bit? Why on earth did you attempt to leave the facility? You had
already taken a very strong sedative on an empty stomach and had
only an outside window of 10 to 15 minutes before it took affect."
"Did I actually do that? I wasn't sure. I thought it might
have been part of one of my nightmares," Jarod admitted, raking his
hand over his numb face, confused by the memory of what had taken
place.
"Yes you did, Jarod. Don't you remember? We talked about it
this morning?"
"Vaguely; as you might recall, I was extremely heavily medicated at
the time," he said bitterly intentionally glairing at him.
"Jarod, what could possibly have motivated you to try such a
risky stunt?
"I don't believe a sufficient background check was done on the DOE
agents guarding my family. I never have; end of story," he said
standing up cradling his arm defensively, beginning to slowly pace.
Sydney studied his agitated patient, knowing that Bailey had
insisted on overseeing the entire screening process himself, after
the hospital debacle, seriously doubting there was any validity to
his claims. "I've seen how dramatically your nightmares are
affecting you. It stands to reason, that such vivid dreams would
precipitate a certain degree of excessive concern," he said,
selecting his words carefully.
"I'm not paranoid."
"I didn't say you were, Jarod. Why don't I give Broots a
call and have him stop by? You can explain to him your concerns and
instruct him on how you want him to proceed," he offered trying to
placate his obviously paranoid patent. "In the mean time, you're
scheduled to meet with an occupational therapist, who will help you
explore your issues through expressive art work in about a half an
hour."
"Give me access to Dr. Forum's computer. I'm perfectly
capable of handling it myself."
"I'm sorry, Jarod, but that's just not feasible right now,"
he said purposefully stalling him. "What if I have Broots visit with
you before your afternoon session? He can begin a back ground check
on the DOE agents in question. Will that satisfy you?"
"You're enjoying manipulating me, aren't you?" he said giving him an
incredulous look.
"No. On the contrary, I'm trying to help you resolve this
important issue. Why don't you sit back down for a little bit. I
have something further to share with you."
"Broots procured the crime scene photos from Germany exactly
matching the sketches you rendered in your Bible," he said,
evaluating his uneasy reaction.
"I'm sorry I doubted you. Your link with Hans was way beyond
anything ever experienced by any human being. This is an
extraordinary occurrence apparently exclusive to you and your
clones. I believe expressing your ordeal through differing media
will be greatly beneficial to you."
"Differing media?" he repeated with a definite edge. "I looked for
my pencil after lunch and couldn't find it, so I asked for another
one and was turned down. Apparently, I should have asked for
something without a point. Surely the problems I'm experiencing
don't warrant such extreme measures," he said, unable to suppress an
unexpected deep yawn.
"I realize that may seem rather far-fetched to you right now, Jarod,
however, there is the issue of the voices you've been hearing since
Han's death."
"As I recall, similar voices convinced you to take a lethal overdose
of Thorozine for your family's sake and you almost died," he said,
his voice faltering, betraying how deeply it had affected him.
"I assure you there is no correlation between the two," Jarod said
defensively, stepping away from his chair and staring out the
window, distressed that he had even brought that up.
"I'm sorry I ever told you about my experience with Hans. I should
have known that you would jump to conclusions and throw it back in
my face," he said rubbing his hand over his eyes fighting the
sedative effects of the tranquilizer, feeling it was seriously
undermining his ability to debate with the other man.
"Jarod, why don't you sit back down and explain to me the
difference? I'm not your enemy. On the contrarily, I'm trying to
help you," his psychiatrist reminded him, anxious to get at the
truth.
Jarod gave in with a heavy sigh and eased back into his seat.
"It's more like an echo of his hysterical screams as he slipped
into hell, that hasn't gone away yet. That's a far cry from hearing
voices telling me to intentionally destroy myself," he said eyeing
the other man nervously hoping he would finally understand.
"That seems like a valid explanation, I'll consider what
you've said. You must understand, Jarod, that I care very deeply
about you; I just don't want anything to happen to you. Why don't
you relax for a little bit, before Broots arrives. I want you to be
rested for your next session," he suggested, anxious to evaluate the
sketches he had requested from the therapist.
Psych-ward
Room 110
Occupational Therapy
2:30 PM
The occupational therapist struggled to remain neutral as
the browned eyed young man finished the last in a series of sketches.
"You're doing an excellent job, Agent Charles. Your doctor
requested a few more sketches, if you feel up to it."
"I'm very thirsty; may I have a drink of water first?"
* * *
Dr. Forums' Office
Room 142 Ground level
3:35 PM.
"I've never seen such disturbing drawings in my life," Dr.
Forums said, flipping through the sketchpad and pausing at the last
three.
"I believe there is a firm barrier between life and death that can
not be crossed unless you are deceased. I'm speculating that he was
so deeply traumatized by experiencing his clone's death that he had
a break with reality and his mind extrapolated the rest."
"Perhaps you're right. Take a look at these sketches he made
about a year ago illustrating what he experienced while on an
overdose of an experimental hallucinogenic drug. The similarities
are undenialable."
"Jacob, Jarod is becoming increasingly paranoid about the DOA agents
guarding his wife. I'm convinced that he's going to slip out of here
the first chance he gets. Frankly, there's no way of stopping him
short of locking him in a padded cell and that would have
devastating repercussions on him emotionally. We might as well
release him this afternoon. I can continue to have sessions with him
at the safe house."
"You know him better than I do. Do you think there is any chance
that his paranoia could lead to violence?"
"No, definitely not. It's not in his nature to do something like
that. If it were, he would have killed Lyle a long time ago, for
murdering his brother. The only issue I might have with him is
whether he would be cooperative concerning remaining heavily
medicated for a while. He despises being on drugs."
"I certainly commend him for that, though I agree that if he
refuses his medication he would become very unstable again and find
himself being committed not in a hospital room, but under lock and
key. I imagine he'd do almost anything to avoid having that happen."
"Perhaps you could impress on him the importance of his
continuing to cooperate in that area."
"Certainly. Why don't I go ahead and evaluate him now. That way he
will have time to recover from any distress he experiences before he
leaves here," he said, fascinated by such an unusual case.
"That's fine, Jacob. I'll have pharmacy make the arrangements."
3:50 PM
Psych-ward Room 503
"Jarod, would you like to talk with me for a little bit?" Dr. Forums
requested carefully as he entered his patient's room noticing that
he had been asleep, not wanting to startle him.
"Um, yes, certainly," Jarod replied, hitting the up button on his
bed, feeling vaguely self-conscious that he had fallen asleep.
"How is your medication working for you?"
"It's far more oppressive than the dose I was given yesterday, but
I've been told it is necessary for right now," he said, running a
hand over his numb face, feeling decidedly murky.
"I'm glad you understand that. Once you're released, you'll be
required to remain on this level of medication for quite some time.
Would you be willing to do that?"
"Are you implying that I will be going back to the DOA safe house
soon?" he asked trying not to get his hopes up too high.
"Yes, after our session," he said, rewarded by a shocked look from
his patient.
"You must understand, though, that you'll be required to take your
tranquilizer and antidepressant as prescribed and agree to a
sedative at bed time for at least another week, or we'll be forced
to readmit you to the psych-ward under lock and key for the duration
of your treatment.
"I understand," he said, hating the fact that he was expected to
relinquish so much of his personal control just to be released.
"Jarod, I'd like to explore with you the night that you were shot.
You haven't been very forthcoming about that."
"What do you want to know," Jarod asked eyeing him nervously,
subconsciously rubbing his wrist.
"Is your wrist bothering you?" he asked observing that his patient
had suddenly lost all his coloring sending up a red flag.
"No," he said, discretely removing it from his sight.
"Why don't you show it to me?"
"Is this really necessary? There's really nothing to see," he said
irritably.
"Jarod, are you trying to hide something from me?"
"No, of course not," Jarod admitted, grudgingly showing him his
wrist.
"That's a wicked scar. Is your other wrist scared as well?"
"Yes," he admitted self-consciously, looking away.
"How did this happen to you?"
"It's really not important now. I had extensive counseling for this
in the states."
"That's not what I asked you, Jarod, is it?"
"The issue has been resolved. I try not to dwell on it, any more"
"You're being very evasive. Would you rather not discuss it with me?"
"No, of course not," he said, struggling against his medication
hampering his reasoning. "It happened after I underwent an
interrogation back at the Centre," he said sickened just thinking
about it.
"You mean after you were brutally beaten and tortured."
"They wanted to know where my father took Michael," he said, hating
the attention he was receiving, diverting his doctor's attention
away from what was done to him.
"Michael? Is he your clone?"
"Yes."
"Who wanted to know?"
"A man named Mr. Lyle."
"Your wife's twin? Isn't he the one who arranged to have you
murdered and your wife kidnapped for the pretender project in
Germany?"
"He has no real power right now, but something like that,"
he offered closing his eyes trying to steady himself.
"Jarod, if this is too much for you we can end this
discussion right now."
"I already told you, I'm fine."
"I'm sorry, Jarod. I just wanted to make sure," Dr. Forums
said, studying his fragile patient carefully. "What happened to you
next?"
"I was given an injection before being taken to a room with…
shackles," he managed rubbing his hand over his face.
"What kind of injection were you given?"
"Oh, um, some sort of hypnotic truth serum, Mr. Raines had
been experimenting with, during the Vietnam war."
"You were given an overdose of the drug?"
"You obviously already know that," Jarod bristled.
"You're right, Jarod, I read your chart, but it's beneficial
for you to talk about it. Why don't you tell me about the shackles?"
"They were mounted on the wall," he said quietly. "Two for the
wrists and two for the ankles," he explained. "They were metal
unlike the kidskin that was usually used to prevent injury, by
Lyle's request."
"For your wrists and ankles?"
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, tugging at the hem of his
shirt, totally unaware that he was doing so.
"Are your ankles as damaged as your wrists?"
"Yes," he said uncomfortably shifting in his seat.
"Why don't we take a break? Would you like a drink of
water?'
"Yes, please."
* * *
"Had you ever been on a Hallucinogen before?"
"No."
"What was it like?"
"It started out with visual hallucinations of extremely pure
colors and physical sensations of euphoria mingled with palpations,
extreme nausea, and cramps. It wasn't pleasant at all."
"Were you frightened?"
"Yes."
"Is that all there was to it?"
"No," Jarod said, becoming visibly shaken as he remembered
that horrific night.
"Jarod, we can stop now, if you would like. This has nothing
to do with whether you are released this afternoon or not," he
informed him.
"No, I can handle it" he said quietly, pausing for several
minutes to regain his composure, before continuing again. "The wall
opposite to me, had an armature with lighting devices that flashed
on and off at varying tempos. When they finally turned them off, I
was plunged into utter darkness…the hallucinations were extremely
terrifying, I couldn't rationalize what was going on. I… I thought I
had died and gone to hell."
"Like Hans?"
"What? No, of course not. He actually died."
"Jarod, do you remember sketching these pictures about a year ago?"
"Where did you get these?"
"Sydney brought them in to make a comparison with the one's you did
today. Jarod, do you see any similarity between these and the last
three that you drew today."
"No, that's not possible."
"These sketches are yours aren't they?"
"Yes, but… after he died he…"
"No, Jarod. You were so deeply traumatized by Hans' death that it
must have triggered a horrific flashback from your past.
Specifically from this," Dr. Forums gently told him, pointing to his
earlier sketch, gratified to help him find some closure concerning
Hans' fate.
* * *
Dr. Forums' Office Room 142
Ground level
4:30 PM
"Sydney, I didn't expect to find you here," Dr. Forums said,
glancing at his watch."
"I just got back from the DOE safe house. I had a productive
discussion with Jarod's wife and family. Andrea is going to be in
charge of Jarod's medications, for right now. Everything is set for
him to be released. I'm anxious to hear how he handled himself with
you."
"He is a remarkable young man. How he was able to detail what
happened to him back at the Centre without breaking down, in his
current state, speaks volumes about his tenacity. I think he
realizes that he had a break with reality after Hans' death. We
talked at length about his fears concerning his mental status and I
think he realizes what happened to him isn't a threat to his overall
mental health. That should be a substantial relief for him."
"Thank you, Jacob. I'm in your debt. Did he agree with our
requirements concerning his medications?"
"Yes. I think he'd do virtually anything to be back at the DOA safe
house with his family."
* * *
The DOA Safe house
5:15 PM
The foyer
"Andrea, I've been extremely worried about you," Jarod confessed,
holding her carefully in a gentle embrace, barely able to keep his
emotions in check. How are you feeling? Are you still experiencing
morning sickness?" he asked, grateful that the rest of his family
was giving him time alone with her.
"I love being pregnant with our baby," she whispered, giving him a
gentle kiss.
"How are you doing, Jarod?" You look like you've finally gotten some
rest."
"I seem to fall asleep terribly easily on the medication Sydney
prescribed for me, "he admitted, deciding to let her know up
front."I just need a little time to adjust to it," he said, as he
gazed into her lovely eyes, craving intimacy with her.
"Have you had dinner yet?"
"No, but if you don't mind, I'd rather unpack my bag and settle in a
little bit first," he ventured, studying her reaction for any sign
of dissent.
"Take as much time as you need," Andrea encouraged, having been
coaches by Sydney to be extremely sensitive to his needs.
"Son, how are you doing?" Major Charles asked, as he ventured into
the foyer with his hands in his pockets.
"Um, hi, dad, I'm better now," he offered uncomfortably, raking his
hand over his foggy eyes, distressed that he felt so out of it.
"You've got a great start on a beard, Jarod. It looks pretty good,"
he said off the cuff, immediately hating himself for mentioning it,
suddenly realizing that Sydney must have forbid him from having
anything potentially dangerous while on the psych-ward.
"No, dad, that was unintentional. I, um just forgot to pack my
razor. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll put my things away now," he
said in a low voice, making a bee line for the staircase, managing a
less than graceful exit.
* * *
Moments later…
"What's wrong with Jarod? He barely said hi to me," Michael asked,
not really understanding how people usually related to one another.
"I think he was a little overwhelmed by all the attention he was
getting considering he just arrived home," Margaret explained,
trying to hide the deep concerned she felt concerning her son.
"Mom, an agent just brought in some Kentucky Fried Chicken. I'm
going to get the paper plates out," Emily, said, knowing that her
big brother's emotional problems were seriously affecting their
mother.
"Thank you, Emily, please let me help you with that," she offered,
craving something constructive to do. *
* *
Master bedroom
5:30 PM
"Jarod finished unpacking his clothes and sat down on the bed
skimming the instructions for the rechargeable shaver Sydney had
given him, very interested in the beard trimming feature.
"Letting out a heavy sigh, he took it out of the box and headed for
the bathroom, irritated that his misguided psychiatrist had
confiscated his Mach III razor and extra refill cartridges.
* * *
5:55 PM
Master bedroom
"Jarod, wake up," Andrea said, giving her sleeping husband a gentle
nudge.
"What's the matter, Andi?" he asked with concern, urgently looking
around groggily, trying to get his bearings.
"Are you hungry or would you like to sleep a little longer?" she
asked, hating to see him so confused.
"Um, I hadn't planned on going to sleep at all," he admitted with a
sheepish smile, closing his lap top and easing off the bed. "I feel
like I have narcolepsy," he said, running a hand over his face.
"I'd rather see you like this, then strung out the way you were
before."
"What's for dinner?" he asked purposely changing the subject.
"One of the Agents brought in fried chicken."
"Mmm., that sounds really good," he said not caring that he'd had it
for lunch, breaking into an easy smile, relieved to be reunited with
his wife and family again.
"I had no idea you liked chicken that much," she said in amusement,
turning around to face him.
"On the contrary, I like being home with you," he said in a low sexy
voice, pushing the door closed and gathering her into a loving
embrace.
* * *
Dinning room 25 minutes later…
"It wasn't easy, but we saved you some chicken," Major Charles said
in amusement noticing their flushed complexions, as Andrea and Jarod
entered the room.
"Thanks dad," Jarod said, pulling out a seat for Andrea glancing at
everyone around the table with a modest smile, his eyes resting on
his mother's anxious face before taking his seat.
"How about some mashed potatoes, big brother?" Emily asked, passing
him the quart container.
"Thank you, Em, I'm going to eat them this time," he said with a shy
smile, relieved that that chapter of his life was behind him.
"Agent Broots is on the line," one of the older agents said,
stepping into the room. "Would you prefer to take it now or later?"
"Now will be fine, Agent Morris. I'll take it in my bedroom," Jarod
said evenly, downing part of his water, before apologizing to
everyone and excusing himself from the table.
Feedback keeps me from writing in the dark - -smiles, jojarod
