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Chapter or Story
I do not own the Pretender or any of the characters. They belong to NBC, Pretender Productions, and others. I'm just borrowing them for my Pretender fanfic story. No money has crossed hands. This story is purely for the entertainment of anyone who misses the Pretender, because of all the blasted pre-emptions! Please don't sue me – I have no money. 2-14-00
Jarod is in a psychiatric hospital struggling to regain his sanity with the help of his former captor/mentor, Sydney, who has defied the Center and risked his life in the process. A Centre directive has now put Miss Parker's life in imminent danger and has sent her on a collision course with the truths she had refuse, with every part of her being, to believe.
In Pursuit Of Happiness
Part 8
by jojarod50
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
8:00 a.m.
"Very good, Mr. Redington. We certainly appreciate you efforts in the Trenton plane crash incident. Just leave these files with us. We'll take it from here. You did include that silver disc the police found at the plane crash site. Am I correct?"
"Yes Sir. It's inside the padded envelope attached to the site photo packet to your left."
"Ok, Justin, that will be all for now, have a safe trip home. I know you have a plane to catch," the agent said rising from his seat.
"Thank you sir," the young man said grabbing his briefcase and shaking the older man's hand firmly. "It's been an honor meeting you, Mr. Lucas."
After the young agent left, Mr. Lucas shared a relieved look with his assistant.
"Well, Cal," he said pulling the DSA out of the envelope and spinning it on the table, "Better give Mr. Parker a call and let him know the package has been secured.
"He will be relieved to hear that."
"Not a very good day for flying is it, Cal?"
Cal's expression turned dark. "No Sir, it's not. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."
"Certainly, Cal. Oh, and get this in the mail immediately. Our friend hates loose ends." Mr. Lucas said tossing him the DSA.
The agent pocketed the DSA, gave his boss a wink, and headed out the door.
* * *
Menninger Psychiatric Hospital – Overland Park, Kansas
8:30 a.m.
"Jarod, how are you doing this morning," Sydney asked, pleased to see Jarod awake and sitting in a chair by the window.
Jarod looked up from the book he was reading and smiled a little as the doctor took the other seat by him.
"I had another flash back in the shower this morning, but it wasn't so bad. Actually, it was kind of interesting being surrounded by sickly green pulsating walls, which looked like they were collapsing on me. The fun part, was when I came out of it and found myself crouched down in the bottom of the shower screaming and looked up to see a nurse and two orderlies staring at me. Great way to start the day," Jarod said hardly masking the anger in his voice.
"Jarod, I know that must have been a horrible and humiliating thing to go through. I have noticed, though, that the frequency of the flashbacks you've had has greatly diminished in the past week. You are getting better."
"Better? How can you say that? I am constantly bombarded with overwhelming fear, I can't sleep at night because of hellish nightmares that don't make any sense, and I can't remember who I am. Every time I try, all I get are confusing fragments of my self, like shards of glass, with different people on them."
Sydney remained silent waiting for the pretender to finish his emotional outburst. Jarod was out of his seat and pacing the floor, highly animated.
"Everything is so strange. I seem to have a lot of different identities. At first, I was kinda enjoying it, but it isn't fun any more. You're hiding something. I can feel it. I think you know more about this than you're telling me. What the hell is wrong with me?
"It's complicated, Jarod. I explained that yesterday. As far as your memory is concerned, You have retrograde amnesia, with shall we say, a twist."
"Do you have any idea what I do all day? I find myself evaluating the patients I come in contact with, as if I'm some kind of psychiatrist. I know the diagnosis of their illnesses and what doses of the appropriate psychotropic drugs they need to be taking. I've looked at their charts. I've never made a mistake, for heaven's sake! What am I psychiatrist or a pharmacist? Why don't you just tell me?"
"Jarod, you know I can't. When you're ready, your mind will allow you to remember."
"My mind. Oh yeah, right"
"Jarod, you need to calm down. Remember, we talked about this yesterday."
Jarod crossed his arms and stood there staring out the window for several minutes, taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly. Then, he turned to face Sydney again and got a puzzled look on his face.
"Jarod, what are you thinking?"
"I don't know. I thought I remembered something, but it's gone now."
The pretender stood there a few minutes more than shook his head and started pacing again.
"Here's a good one. Yesterday, I sat down at the piano in the recreation room, just out of curiosity, and ended up playing some prelude in C-sharp minor by Rachmaninoff, flawlessly, or so one of the nurses said. Did you know I could read a book in three minutes flat and have perfect recall? It's like I have a photographic memory. I seem to know everything about everything, but every time I'm on the verge of remembering why, I have an acute anxiety attack."
Jarod finally played out and fell back into the chair by Sydney, rubbing his eyes with his shaky hand and giving out a ragged breath. Sydney had known Jarod would discover his uniqueness and had hoped it would jog his memory, releasing him from, what he hoped was, temporary amnesia, but that hadn't happened. Jarod would have to remember everything in his own time, as his mind finds ways of coping with the horrific experiences he had endured. The mind has a wonderful way of protecting one from things too overwhelming to handle.
"Jarod, you appear to be a very gifted young man. That's a wonderful thing. You must accept the fact that you are, perhaps, a genius, and be happy with who you are. I'm sure your memory will return either all at once, or a little at a time. For a person to have permanent amnesia is very rare. When the time is right, I'm sure you will remember. Jarod stopped tugging on the belt of his robe, ran his hand over the stubble on his face, and looked Sydney directly in his eyes. He frantically searched his doctor's face and almost said something, then left his chair and started pacing again, obviously highly agitated.
"Jarod?"
Jarod turned and faced his doctor, with a look of shock on his face.
"I know you, don't I? I'm remembering," Jarod choked out, as his legs gave out and he sank to the bed."
Sydney took a deep breath and walked over to him with a grave expression on his face.
"Jarod, what are you remembering?"
"I'm not sure. It's all jumbled up. I…Your name….is Sydney, and I'm… the Centre …. Oh no! I've got to get out of here," Jarod said getting up quickly and heading for the door. Sydney was equally as fast and cut him off before he had a chance to leave.
"Jarod, listen to me. You're safe here. They have no idea where you are. You can't just leave. You're not well. Let me help you. I will never let them touch you again. Never," Sydney vowed, his voice becoming strained.
Jarod stood there just staring at Sydney with a sick look on his face. "What did they do to me, Sydney?" Jarod asked, as he fell back against the door, obviously having an anxiety attack. He stood there, his eyes glazed over, struggling to catch his breath, as a wave of dizziness assaulted him, sending him sliding down the door to the floor.
Sydney bit his lip, considering what to do He watched the young man sitting on the tile floor, holding his head in his hands, as he fought to hold on to reality.
"Jarod?"
"I'm going to be sick," Jarod said looking up.
"Come on. Let's get you to the bath room, Jarod," Sydney said helping him to his feet. "I'm so sorry, Jarod."
* * *
"Miss Parker, we've been driving for nearly 24 hours. Don't you think it's time to st stop and get some sleep? N not together, of course. Look, I'm afraid you're going to make yourself sick. You haven't eaten anything and, well, you're going to need to to talk to, I mean, Miss Parker what happened back there at the Centre?
"You're right, Broots. Pull into the next decent motel you see. Broots! You're weaving again, damn it. Stay in your lane before some rookie cop pulls us over and gives you a breath-a-lizer test. Where did you learn to drive, Disney World?"
"I'm, I'm sorry, Miss Parker. I'm just really tired. See if there is any No Doze left in that box, would you?"
"Broots, you never cease to amaze me."
"Really, Miss Parker?"
"Forget it Broots. There's a Holidome. Pull in there."
"Yes, Miss Parker."
It was a very nice motel, with spacious rooms, an indoor pool, weight room, sauna, lavish dining, and an excellent lounge. None of it mattered to Miss Parker. All she wanted was to go to bed and forget she even existed. She had Broots check them in and insisted he pay in cash. Broots had been surprised when she asked him to get one room, but figured what ever it was that had caused them to hit the road, had shaken her to the core and she didn't want to be alone.
Sam had been home with a bad case of the flu, but had promised to take Debbie somewhere safe until he was able to come back for his daughter. Broots was comforted by the thought that the Centre would never suspect Sam had helped him.
Miss Parker had already gone to bed and Broots climbed in the other bed, grateful to finally be able to safely close his eyes. Turning off the lamp, Broots mused to himself that this would probably be the last night of restful sleep he'd ever get. He dreaded what Miss Parker would tell him in a few short hours. He thought he could hear Miss Parker quietly crying but then again, maybe he had been mistaken. Broots listened carefully and heard nothing more. His heavy eyes fell shut and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
* * *
Sydney had never felt so overwhelmed and alone. That was really saying something, considering all the Centre had put him through. They had destroyed his marriage and denied him the opportunity of knowing his own son. They had also manipulated him in dreadful ways to coerce him to do their bidding, as far as Jarod was concerned. But these days Sydney had had Miss Parker and Broots to lean on, though they probably never realized the extent he did. Just having their companionship seemed to make his life easier to take.
Jarod had always been a son to him, though he could never let him know it. The Centre had sure seen to that. Sydney was the one who had raised him, taught him, and yes even loved and comforted him. He had also
robbed him of a childhood, a family and a real life. So many regrets. Checking his watch, Sydney noticed that it was well after 6pm, as he stepped onto the crowded elevator to go home. He had gotten a colleague to take his other patients, so that he could spend the day with Jarod. Sydney leaned against the wall of the elevator, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to distance himself from the pain of seeing Jarod struggling to come to grips with partial memories that had come crashing in on him. Thank God, he hadn't remembered being recaptured or the unspeakable things that had been done to him. Sydney prayed he never would.
Leaving the elevator, he buttoned his raincoat and headed out into the stormy evening. He had parked on the 2nd level of the parking lot, where he wouldn't have far to walk.
As Sydney neared his car, a figure stepped out from behind a cement pillar and grabbed his shoulders spinning him around.
"You have Jarod in that hospital, don't you. What have you people done to my son?"
"Shocked, Sydney found himself face to face with Major Charles, who was totally enraged.
"Major, are you alone? You weren't followed?"
"What do you think? I wouldn't dare lead anyone to Jarod."
"No, you wouldn't. I'm sorry, it's just that the Centre must never know we're here."
"Why is Jarod in a psychiatric Hospital? Tell me," he growled.
"Major, you're going to have to believe me. I had nothing to do with this. I rescued Jarod. I'm trying to help him."
"I want to see him. Now! You're going with me."
"Wait a minute," Sydney said glancing around quickly. "First, I need to explain to you what happened to Jarod. He's very sick. You need to understand what he's going through or you may unknowingly exasperate his condition and make matters worse. Let me take you to my apartment. We can talk there. It's very close," he said, giving Jarod's dad a pleading look. "It's imperative, Major."
Major Charles stood there weighing his options. "I'll do anything to help my son," he said softening.
"I'm grateful you're here. Jarod is going to need all the love and support he can get if he is going to get better."
Major Charles just stood there with pain in his eyes, as the gravity of Jarod's situation sunk in.
"All right, Sydney. Where's your car?"
"Down this way," he said motioning further down the row of cars. Moments later, they pulled out into the heavy rain and thick rush hour traffic.
* * *
A knock at the door woke Broots up from a dream he was having, about he and Miss Parker involved in a heated whirlwind romance and it was just getting to the good part. When he opened his eyes, he saw Miss Parker, fully dressed, letting a bellhop in the room with a tray holding what appeared to be a wine bottle of some kind and two glasses. The man set it down on a table and left after saying something he couldn't hear.
"Miss Parker, what are you doing? I m mean if you d don't mind my asking."
"Broots, you're just in time for the celebration. Come on over here and pop the cork."
"Miss Miss Parker…..I um, I'm not dressed. Besides, shouldn't we be having co coffee or something?" This is getting very strange, he thought, getting a big knot in his stomach.
"Get over here now, Broots and open this damn thing or you'll be sorry you woke up at all."
"But…."
"Broots!"
"I'm I'm coming, but I don't think this is a good idea."
Broots gingerly pulled the covers back and got out of bed. He had a white T-shirt on, a pair of boxer shorts with anchors, sailboats, and life preservers printed on them, and a very embarrassed look on his face.
As he got nearer to Miss Parker, he could see her puffy red eyes. Now he knew what she had spent her time doing while he had been sleeping, but why?
"Here Broots," she said slamming the Champagne bottle into his stomach.
"I hope you're better at removing the cork than you are picking out underwear."
"I'll have you know these are really "in" right now," he said feigning self-confidence. Holding the bottle, he carefully pealed back the foil wrapper exposing the cork and gave it a small shake. "AAAAAAAHHHHHH," he shouted as the cork blew off the bottle, smashing into the ceiling fixture cracking it, and champagne shot out all over his boxer shorts.
"Broots, you moron, clean up this mess and go get some clothes on!
"Yes, Miss Parker," Broots said, fervently wishing Sydney was here to bring some semblance of sanity to this moment.
When Broots came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, he approached Miss Parker knowing that something was desperately wrong with her. She was sitting on her bed crying and gulping the last of her glass of champagne.
"Pour me another drink and get one for yourself. We're going to have a toast."
"Um, Miss Parker, I'd rather, well, ok."
Broots poured the drinks and handed one to her.
"Wow, Pink Champagne. I've never had that before," Broots said playing along and hoping to get to the bottom of this very soon.
Miss Parker lifted her glass and lightly touched the one Broots was holding making a pinging sound.
"Here's to the end of our jobs at the Centre. Here's to the end of…"Miss Parker trailed off and broke into tears again.
"Wh what do you mean, Miss Parker, no no one leaves the Centre. Not unless they're dea…..aw Miss Parker, talk to me. What do you know that I don't? This is bad; this is very bad."
"Broots, quite babbling," she said abruptly standing up.
"S sorry, it's just that… Miss Parker, I'm your friend. Please talk to me."
"Talk to you? I don't need anyone. Get out, Broots. Just leave mealone," she yelled. Suddenly, she threw her champagne glass at Broots head, missing him by only a fraction of an inch.
A serious expression came over his face, as he sat down on the other bed.
"I I'm not leaving you alone like this," Broots stammered, wondering what she would throw at him next.
Neither spoke for a long time. Finally, Broots, crossed the room and sat down beside her, but Miss Parker stood and started to walk away. Dizzy from the alcohol, she begain to go down, but Broots caught her before she fell.
He held on to her as though their lives depended on it. She was so fragile and venerable. She was crying inconsolably. He had always dreamed of having her in his arms, but not like this.
Broots held her until she regained her balance. Carefully, he stepped back, unsure what to do next.
"Miss Parker, you need to talk about this. Please tell me what is going on."
She pushed away from him and crossed the room, rather unsteadily.
"You're right, Broots, I shouldn't have put your life in jeopardy like this. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said easing down into one of the overstuffed chairs by the far wall.
"When I left you and went to my dad's office, I was so angry about what had happened to Jarod. When I confronted him, he said horrible lies to me about Jarod being a junkie and that they had uses for him even if he were brain dead. I was totally shocked and furious with him so I left his office before I said anything I couldn't take back. I knew I probably wasn't thinking straight after watching that DSA. I hurried down the hall toward the elevator, but the further I went, the more livid I got. I changed my mind and decided to confront him about all the lies he'd been telling me and of his total disregard for Jaord's life. So I went back to his office stopping short of the door when I heard a heated argument going on inside. Mutumbo gave my dad the order to eliminate me and said it was no different than when he had ordered my mother's d…….."
Miss Parker just sat there with a devastated look on her face as she remembered what had been said.
"I've blamed Jarod for my mother's death all these years. I even blamed his father. I've hated Jarod and have mercilessly stalked him trying to rob him of his freedom. I couldn't wait to deliver him back into
captivity at the Centre where he would have no life, no hope. Why? For hate's sake, to please my precious father and so I could have my sweet freedom. That son of a bitch! What a blind fool I've been. She walked over to the table and poured another drink for each of them and held one out to Broots.
"Have a drink with me, Broots. Here's to the biggest fool that ever lived," she said holding her drink up in the air.
"Don't do this, Miss Parker. You didn't know the truth. You acted in ignorance. The question is, what are we going to do now?" Miss Parker walked over to the window and looked out for several minutes before she spoke again.
"Do you know where Sydney is? Have you spoken to him?"
"Well, yes. He's at a psychiatric hospital with Jarod."
"You've been lying to me! Boy, you must really have a death wish. How the hell could you keep this from me, Broots," she spit pulling her gun out of her purse and leveling it at him.
"Oh, God, please don't kill me, Miss Parker."
"Give me a good reason not to."
"Ok, um, well, what would you ha have done if you knew? Wh where would Sydney and Jarod be right now?"
Miss Parker slowly lowered her gun and just stood there staring at the floor.
"Jarod? Broots, do you know how he is?"
"He's um, very sick. He's not really Jarod anymore. At least that's what Sydney told me two weeks ago. He said something about depressive psychosis and retrograde amnesia, whatever the heck that means. He said he thought there was a chance he'd pull out of it though. Um, and that only time would tell."
"Sydney's been going through this all alone. It's about time that we join the opposition. They're going to need help, Broots, but we can't lead the Centre to them. We've got to come up with a plan.
* * *
The door swung open, revealing a man sitting in the semi-darkness on ametal bed with no mattress, which was bolted to the floor. One sweeper stood by the door as Willie entered the small room and spoke.
"I've been ordered to see to it that you get a shower and a fresh change of clothes."
"Why the royal treatment? What do they want with me?" Mr. Lyle asked with a smoldering look on his face.
"After you're cleaned up, we are to escort you to Mr. Parker's office. Let's go."
* * *
Jarod is in a psychiatric hospital struggling to regain his sanity with the help of his former captor/mentor, Sydney, who has defied the Center and risked his life in the process. A Centre directive has now put Miss Parker's life in imminent danger and has sent her on a collision course with the truths she had refuse, with every part of her being, to believe.
Part 8
by jojarod50
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
8:00 a.m.
"Very good, Mr. Redington. We certainly appreciate you efforts in the Trenton plane crash incident. Just leave these files with us. We'll take it from here. You did include that silver disc the police found at the plane crash site. Am I correct?"
"Yes Sir. It's inside the padded envelope attached to the site photo packet to your left."
"Ok, Justin, that will be all for now, have a safe trip home. I know you have a plane to catch," the agent said rising from his seat.
"Thank you sir," the young man said grabbing his briefcase and shaking the older man's hand firmly. "It's been an honor meeting you, Mr. Lucas."
After the young agent left, Mr. Lucas shared a relieved look with his assistant.
"Well, Cal," he said pulling the DSA out of the envelope and spinning it on the table, "Better give Mr. Parker a call and let him know the package has been secured.
"He will be relieved to hear that."
"Not a very good day for flying is it, Cal?"
Cal's expression turned dark. "No Sir, it's not. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."
"Certainly, Cal. Oh, and get this in the mail immediately. Our friend hates loose ends." Mr. Lucas said tossing him the DSA.
The agent pocketed the DSA, gave his boss a wink, and headed out the door.
* * *
Menninger Psychiatric Hospital – Overland Park, Kansas
8:30 a.m.
"Jarod, how are you doing this morning," Sydney asked, pleased to see Jarod awake and sitting in a chair by the window.
Jarod looked up from the book he was reading and smiled a little as the doctor took the other seat by him.
"I had another flash back in the shower this morning, but it wasn't so bad. Actually, it was kind of interesting being surrounded by sickly green pulsating walls, which looked like they were collapsing on me. The fun part, was when I came out of it and found myself crouched down in the bottom of the shower screaming and looked up to see a nurse and two orderlies staring at me. Great way to start the day," Jarod said hardly masking the anger in his voice.
"Jarod, I know that must have been a horrible and humiliating thing to go through. I have noticed, though, that the frequency of the flashbacks you've had has greatly diminished in the past week. You are getting better."
"Better? How can you say that? I am constantly bombarded with overwhelming fear, I can't sleep at night because of hellish nightmares that don't make any sense, and I can't remember who I am. Every time I try, all I get are confusing fragments of my self, like shards of glass, with different people on them."
Sydney remained silent waiting for the pretender to finish his emotional outburst. Jarod was out of his seat and pacing the floor, highly animated.
"Everything is so strange. I seem to have a lot of different identities. At first, I was kinda enjoying it, but it isn't fun any more. You're hiding something. I can feel it. I think you know more about this than you're telling me. What the hell is wrong with me?
"It's complicated, Jarod. I explained that yesterday. As far as your memory is concerned, You have retrograde amnesia, with shall we say, a twist."
"Do you have any idea what I do all day? I find myself evaluating the patients I come in contact with, as if I'm some kind of psychiatrist. I know the diagnosis of their illnesses and what doses of the appropriate psychotropic drugs they need to be taking. I've looked at their charts. I've never made a mistake, for heaven's sake! What am I psychiatrist or a pharmacist? Why don't you just tell me?"
"Jarod, you know I can't. When you're ready, your mind will allow you to remember."
"My mind. Oh yeah, right"
"Jarod, you need to calm down. Remember, we talked about this yesterday."
Jarod crossed his arms and stood there staring out the window for several minutes, taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly. Then, he turned to face Sydney again and got a puzzled look on his face.
"Jarod, what are you thinking?"
"I don't know. I thought I remembered something, but it's gone now."
The pretender stood there a few minutes more than shook his head and started pacing again.
"Here's a good one. Yesterday, I sat down at the piano in the recreation room, just out of curiosity, and ended up playing some prelude in C-sharp minor by Rachmaninoff, flawlessly, or so one of the nurses said. Did you know I could read a book in three minutes flat and have perfect recall? It's like I have a photographic memory. I seem to know everything about everything, but every time I'm on the verge of remembering why, I have an acute anxiety attack."
Jarod finally played out and fell back into the chair by Sydney, rubbing his eyes with his shaky hand and giving out a ragged breath. Sydney had known Jarod would discover his uniqueness and had hoped it would jog his memory, releasing him from, what he hoped was, temporary amnesia, but that hadn't happened. Jarod would have to remember everything in his own time, as his mind finds ways of coping with the horrific experiences he had endured. The mind has a wonderful way of protecting one from things too overwhelming to handle.
"Jarod, you appear to be a very gifted young man. That's a wonderful thing. You must accept the fact that you are, perhaps, a genius, and be happy with who you are. I'm sure your memory will return either all at once, or a little at a time. For a person to have permanent amnesia is very rare. When the time is right, I'm sure you will remember. Jarod stopped tugging on the belt of his robe, ran his hand over the stubble on his face, and looked Sydney directly in his eyes. He frantically searched his doctor's face and almost said something, then left his chair and started pacing again, obviously highly agitated.
"Jarod?"
Jarod turned and faced his doctor, with a look of shock on his face.
"I know you, don't I? I'm remembering," Jarod choked out, as his legs gave out and he sank to the bed."
Sydney took a deep breath and walked over to him with a grave expression on his face.
"Jarod, what are you remembering?"
"I'm not sure. It's all jumbled up. I…Your name….is Sydney, and I'm… the Centre …. Oh no! I've got to get out of here," Jarod said getting up quickly and heading for the door. Sydney was equally as fast and cut him off before he had a chance to leave.
"Jarod, listen to me. You're safe here. They have no idea where you are. You can't just leave. You're not well. Let me help you. I will never let them touch you again. Never," Sydney vowed, his voice becoming strained.
Jarod stood there just staring at Sydney with a sick look on his face. "What did they do to me, Sydney?" Jarod asked, as he fell back against the door, obviously having an anxiety attack. He stood there, his eyes glazed over, struggling to catch his breath, as a wave of dizziness assaulted him, sending him sliding down the door to the floor.
Sydney bit his lip, considering what to do He watched the young man sitting on the tile floor, holding his head in his hands, as he fought to hold on to reality.
"Jarod?"
"I'm going to be sick," Jarod said looking up.
"Come on. Let's get you to the bath room, Jarod," Sydney said helping him to his feet. "I'm so sorry, Jarod."
* * *
"Miss Parker, we've been driving for nearly 24 hours. Don't you think it's time to st stop and get some sleep? N not together, of course. Look, I'm afraid you're going to make yourself sick. You haven't eaten anything and, well, you're going to need to to talk to, I mean, Miss Parker what happened back there at the Centre?
"You're right, Broots. Pull into the next decent motel you see. Broots! You're weaving again, damn it. Stay in your lane before some rookie cop pulls us over and gives you a breath-a-lizer test. Where did you learn to drive, Disney World?"
"I'm, I'm sorry, Miss Parker. I'm just really tired. See if there is any No Doze left in that box, would you?"
"Broots, you never cease to amaze me."
"Really, Miss Parker?"
"Forget it Broots. There's a Holidome. Pull in there."
"Yes, Miss Parker."
It was a very nice motel, with spacious rooms, an indoor pool, weight room, sauna, lavish dining, and an excellent lounge. None of it mattered to Miss Parker. All she wanted was to go to bed and forget she even existed. She had Broots check them in and insisted he pay in cash. Broots had been surprised when she asked him to get one room, but figured what ever it was that had caused them to hit the road, had shaken her to the core and she didn't want to be alone.
Sam had been home with a bad case of the flu, but had promised to take Debbie somewhere safe until he was able to come back for his daughter. Broots was comforted by the thought that the Centre would never suspect Sam had helped him.
Miss Parker had already gone to bed and Broots climbed in the other bed, grateful to finally be able to safely close his eyes. Turning off the lamp, Broots mused to himself that this would probably be the last night of restful sleep he'd ever get. He dreaded what Miss Parker would tell him in a few short hours. He thought he could hear Miss Parker quietly crying but then again, maybe he had been mistaken. Broots listened carefully and heard nothing more. His heavy eyes fell shut and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
* * *
Sydney had never felt so overwhelmed and alone. That was really saying something, considering all the Centre had put him through. They had destroyed his marriage and denied him the opportunity of knowing his own son. They had also manipulated him in dreadful ways to coerce him to do their bidding, as far as Jarod was concerned. But these days Sydney had had Miss Parker and Broots to lean on, though they probably never realized the extent he did. Just having their companionship seemed to make his life easier to take.
Jarod had always been a son to him, though he could never let him know it. The Centre had sure seen to that. Sydney was the one who had raised him, taught him, and yes even loved and comforted him. He had also
robbed him of a childhood, a family and a real life. So many regrets. Checking his watch, Sydney noticed that it was well after 6pm, as he stepped onto the crowded elevator to go home. He had gotten a colleague to take his other patients, so that he could spend the day with Jarod. Sydney leaned against the wall of the elevator, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to distance himself from the pain of seeing Jarod struggling to come to grips with partial memories that had come crashing in on him. Thank God, he hadn't remembered being recaptured or the unspeakable things that had been done to him. Sydney prayed he never would.
Leaving the elevator, he buttoned his raincoat and headed out into the stormy evening. He had parked on the 2nd level of the parking lot, where he wouldn't have far to walk.
As Sydney neared his car, a figure stepped out from behind a cement pillar and grabbed his shoulders spinning him around.
"You have Jarod in that hospital, don't you. What have you people done to my son?"
"Shocked, Sydney found himself face to face with Major Charles, who was totally enraged.
"Major, are you alone? You weren't followed?"
"What do you think? I wouldn't dare lead anyone to Jarod."
"No, you wouldn't. I'm sorry, it's just that the Centre must never know we're here."
"Why is Jarod in a psychiatric Hospital? Tell me," he growled.
"Major, you're going to have to believe me. I had nothing to do with this. I rescued Jarod. I'm trying to help him."
"I want to see him. Now! You're going with me."
"Wait a minute," Sydney said glancing around quickly. "First, I need to explain to you what happened to Jarod. He's very sick. You need to understand what he's going through or you may unknowingly exasperate his condition and make matters worse. Let me take you to my apartment. We can talk there. It's very close," he said, giving Jarod's dad a pleading look. "It's imperative, Major."
Major Charles stood there weighing his options. "I'll do anything to help my son," he said softening.
"I'm grateful you're here. Jarod is going to need all the love and support he can get if he is going to get better."
Major Charles just stood there with pain in his eyes, as the gravity of Jarod's situation sunk in.
"All right, Sydney. Where's your car?"
"Down this way," he said motioning further down the row of cars. Moments later, they pulled out into the heavy rain and thick rush hour traffic.
* * *
A knock at the door woke Broots up from a dream he was having, about he and Miss Parker involved in a heated whirlwind romance and it was just getting to the good part. When he opened his eyes, he saw Miss Parker, fully dressed, letting a bellhop in the room with a tray holding what appeared to be a wine bottle of some kind and two glasses. The man set it down on a table and left after saying something he couldn't hear.
"Miss Parker, what are you doing? I m mean if you d don't mind my asking."
"Broots, you're just in time for the celebration. Come on over here and pop the cork."
"Miss Miss Parker…..I um, I'm not dressed. Besides, shouldn't we be having co coffee or something?" This is getting very strange, he thought, getting a big knot in his stomach.
"Get over here now, Broots and open this damn thing or you'll be sorry you woke up at all."
"But…."
"Broots!"
"I'm I'm coming, but I don't think this is a good idea."
Broots gingerly pulled the covers back and got out of bed. He had a white T-shirt on, a pair of boxer shorts with anchors, sailboats, and life preservers printed on them, and a very embarrassed look on his face.
As he got nearer to Miss Parker, he could see her puffy red eyes. Now he knew what she had spent her time doing while he had been sleeping, but why?
"Here Broots," she said slamming the Champagne bottle into his stomach.
"I hope you're better at removing the cork than you are picking out underwear."
"I'll have you know these are really "in" right now," he said feigning self-confidence. Holding the bottle, he carefully pealed back the foil wrapper exposing the cork and gave it a small shake. "AAAAAAAHHHHHH," he shouted as the cork blew off the bottle, smashing into the ceiling fixture cracking it, and champagne shot out all over his boxer shorts.
"Broots, you moron, clean up this mess and go get some clothes on!
"Yes, Miss Parker," Broots said, fervently wishing Sydney was here to bring some semblance of sanity to this moment.
When Broots came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, he approached Miss Parker knowing that something was desperately wrong with her. She was sitting on her bed crying and gulping the last of her glass of champagne.
"Pour me another drink and get one for yourself. We're going to have a toast."
"Um, Miss Parker, I'd rather, well, ok."
Broots poured the drinks and handed one to her.
"Wow, Pink Champagne. I've never had that before," Broots said playing along and hoping to get to the bottom of this very soon.
Miss Parker lifted her glass and lightly touched the one Broots was holding making a pinging sound.
"Here's to the end of our jobs at the Centre. Here's to the end of…"Miss Parker trailed off and broke into tears again.
"Wh what do you mean, Miss Parker, no no one leaves the Centre. Not unless they're dea…..aw Miss Parker, talk to me. What do you know that I don't? This is bad; this is very bad."
"Broots, quite babbling," she said abruptly standing up.
"S sorry, it's just that… Miss Parker, I'm your friend. Please talk to me."
"Talk to you? I don't need anyone. Get out, Broots. Just leave mealone," she yelled. Suddenly, she threw her champagne glass at Broots head, missing him by only a fraction of an inch.
A serious expression came over his face, as he sat down on the other bed.
"I I'm not leaving you alone like this," Broots stammered, wondering what she would throw at him next.
Neither spoke for a long time. Finally, Broots, crossed the room and sat down beside her, but Miss Parker stood and started to walk away. Dizzy from the alcohol, she begain to go down, but Broots caught her before she fell.
He held on to her as though their lives depended on it. She was so fragile and venerable. She was crying inconsolably. He had always dreamed of having her in his arms, but not like this.
Broots held her until she regained her balance. Carefully, he stepped back, unsure what to do next.
"Miss Parker, you need to talk about this. Please tell me what is going on."
She pushed away from him and crossed the room, rather unsteadily.
"You're right, Broots, I shouldn't have put your life in jeopardy like this. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said easing down into one of the overstuffed chairs by the far wall.
"When I left you and went to my dad's office, I was so angry about what had happened to Jarod. When I confronted him, he said horrible lies to me about Jarod being a junkie and that they had uses for him even if he were brain dead. I was totally shocked and furious with him so I left his office before I said anything I couldn't take back. I knew I probably wasn't thinking straight after watching that DSA. I hurried down the hall toward the elevator, but the further I went, the more livid I got. I changed my mind and decided to confront him about all the lies he'd been telling me and of his total disregard for Jaord's life. So I went back to his office stopping short of the door when I heard a heated argument going on inside. Mutumbo gave my dad the order to eliminate me and said it was no different than when he had ordered my mother's d…….."
Miss Parker just sat there with a devastated look on her face as she remembered what had been said.
"I've blamed Jarod for my mother's death all these years. I even blamed his father. I've hated Jarod and have mercilessly stalked him trying to rob him of his freedom. I couldn't wait to deliver him back into
captivity at the Centre where he would have no life, no hope. Why? For hate's sake, to please my precious father and so I could have my sweet freedom. That son of a bitch! What a blind fool I've been. She walked over to the table and poured another drink for each of them and held one out to Broots.
"Have a drink with me, Broots. Here's to the biggest fool that ever lived," she said holding her drink up in the air.
"Don't do this, Miss Parker. You didn't know the truth. You acted in ignorance. The question is, what are we going to do now?" Miss Parker walked over to the window and looked out for several minutes before she spoke again.
"Do you know where Sydney is? Have you spoken to him?"
"Well, yes. He's at a psychiatric hospital with Jarod."
"You've been lying to me! Boy, you must really have a death wish. How the hell could you keep this from me, Broots," she spit pulling her gun out of her purse and leveling it at him.
"Oh, God, please don't kill me, Miss Parker."
"Give me a good reason not to."
"Ok, um, well, what would you ha have done if you knew? Wh where would Sydney and Jarod be right now?"
Miss Parker slowly lowered her gun and just stood there staring at the floor.
"Jarod? Broots, do you know how he is?"
"He's um, very sick. He's not really Jarod anymore. At least that's what Sydney told me two weeks ago. He said something about depressive psychosis and retrograde amnesia, whatever the heck that means. He said he thought there was a chance he'd pull out of it though. Um, and that only time would tell."
"Sydney's been going through this all alone. It's about time that we join the opposition. They're going to need help, Broots, but we can't lead the Centre to them. We've got to come up with a plan.
* * *
The door swung open, revealing a man sitting in the semi-darkness on ametal bed with no mattress, which was bolted to the floor. One sweeper stood by the door as Willie entered the small room and spoke.
"I've been ordered to see to it that you get a shower and a fresh change of clothes."
"Why the royal treatment? What do they want with me?" Mr. Lyle asked with a smoldering look on his face.
"After you're cleaned up, we are to escort you to Mr. Parker's office. Let's go."
* * *
