Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer : The Pretender and all character associated with it belongs to NBC and 20th Century Fox. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Trust Can Kill You...Or Set You Free
Part II
by Melinda Coates
My new position was ready for me in less than two weeks. A few mistakes and inconvenient delays – arranged by Mr Jones – in the processing of Miss Parker’s paperwork were all it took. Miss Parkers was not a patient woman by any means. I had been out of the office at the time but the staff were all badly shaken when I returned.
I went in to see Mr Jones and he filled me in. "It worked perfectly! Miss Parker turned up here." He grinned at my look of amazement. "She was in quite a mood, to put it mildly." He stood up and walked around his desk towards me.
"From the atmosphere around here I’d say she was in more than just a mood." I replied wryly. The feelings I sensed seemed more suited to the aftermath of an armed hold-up. Fear, adrenalin and shock were the most prominent.
He laughed, "Okay, I’ll admit she was this close to shrieking like a banshee." He held his thumb and forefinger up about an inch apart. "Actually, if she had yelled I might have felt better. She made my blood run cold." His reaction felt so strong that I very nearly shivered. "Anyway, after I spent some time grovelling and apologising, Miss Parker accepted my suggestion that she might consider a personal assistant dedicated purely to the work of her team as opposed to using the Admin Department."
"I assume it will be an internal appointment, so is the next step for me to apply?" I asked. The descriptions of Miss Parker I had been hearing bothered me. She sounded nothing like her mother at all – or like the little girl I remembered.
Mr Jones looked very pleased with himself. "You start tomorrow, as a matter of fact."
I gasped. "That’s it? It’s all arranged?" I could hardly believe it.
"Yes. A desk is being set up for you in her team’s offices at this very moment. You’ll need to report to a man named Sydney as Miss Parker won’t be in until later on."
I froze. Sydney! I didn’t know he was working with Miss Parker, even though now it seemed obvious. I knew I would come across people who had known me when I had been at The Centre as a child but I guess I hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility of working closely with them. Ten years had changed me considerably – I still had my wild curls but now they were always carefully pinned up. I had also taken the precaution of wearing glasses to make me look less like the child I once was and more like the secretary that I was supposed to be. Would that be enough to keep Sydney from recognising me? It would have to be.
When I didn’t reply, Mr Jones became anxious. "You do still want this, don’t you?"
I shook myself. "Yes, of course! Thank you so much, Mr Jones." Overriding my desire to be cautious, I embraced him. "You have no idea what this means to me."
He held me gently. Feelings of warmth flooded through him. For me, I realised with surprise. For the most fleeting of moments, I felt safe. Almost as if I was back with my lovely computer nerd whose only desire in the world was to protect me. Safe, but not free. Never free.
Eventually he pulled away, his hands still on my shoulders. His eyes looked so soft. I felt almost a little intoxicated by the sweet emotions radiating from him. "Melinda," he began in a whisper, "I know you don’t return the feelings I have for you…" I tried to speak but he silenced me with gentle fingers on my lips. "It doesn’t matter. All I want is for you to promise me that you’ll be careful up there. The Centre can sometimes be a dangerous place."
An understatement if ever there was one but I nodded. "I promise."
"I’ll always be here for you, if you need anything. Particularly any political manipulations which could use my administrative touch." He smiled. "I’ve really enjoyed stirring up the waters. Thank you for believing in me when no-one else does."
"No problem." I whispered. With a start I realised that I trusted him. Trust can kill you… Okay, so not enough to tell him who I was and of what I was capable or even part of what I was planning – but I could trust him enough to perhaps accept his offer of assistance in the future and that he would . I could sense what else he needed me to say and it didn’t matter because it was what I wanted to say. "Your friendship is very important to me."
Relief and gratitude flowed from him. He was thankful that I had not rejected him completely, that even though I did not share his feelings, I still cared about him in some way. He was fairly perceptive for someone without my talents – and for a man – and he somehow understood that there was something different about me, that I had things to accomplish that were more important than romance. I sensed a thought whispering in his head, "Maybe someday…"
I smiled, feeling sad, and kissed him softly on the cheek before turning to leave his office to finish off my last day in the Administration Department.
I hardly slept at all that night. I tossed and turned, plagued by half-remembered nightmares. They were the same nightmares I’d been having well before I left The Centre. The scene of Catherine’s death replayed over and over just as I’d witnessed it with my mind all those years ago was prominent amongst them. Different versions of Catherine betraying me by revealing my hidden powers – something that had never happened in real life but was no less horrifying in a dream – another constant of my night-time dreaming. Now a new nightmare scene emerged, in relation to my current situation and all the things that could go wrong – and in particular, would end up with me once more being trapped within the darkness of The Centre.
Even though I was afraid, I had no choice but to continue on the path I had laid out for myself. So the next morning I arose early and with shaking hands set about taming my curls into a french roll and making sure my disguise was complete. This time it would be all important. This time I was going to be around Sydney. I had to do my best to ensure I looked as little like the child he once knew and more like Miss Parker’s new personal assistant.
I studied my reflection carefully, comparing it to what I remembered of the impression Sydney had of me as a child. One of my abilities is knowing how other people see me and even what they think of me – not a good thing if you don’t have a strong sense of self-value. It didn’t bother me because people’s impressions of me came from how I was acting at the time which was based on what they wanted to me to be. They weren’t aware of the real me, just who I had become in order to get what I needed from them. I decided that I looked suitably altered from the way Sydney remembered me so I gathered my things together, grabbed my car keys and headed for the door.
I was too nervous to eat so I drove straight to The Centre. My nerves were so on edge that I thought for a moment that the Sweeper at the entrance was going to stop me. I took a deep breath, stretched out my senses and brushed his mind lightly. His thoughts were only about how bored he was and how he would rather be fishing. The scene he had painted in his mind was so peaceful and calm that it, as well as the fact that his thoughts were not of accosting me, helped me to relax. He waved me through, barely glancing at my ID.
Not long after I was standing at the heavy double doors that opened onto the area set aside for Miss Parker’s team. Drawing on the calm inspired by the fishing scene helpfully supplied a few moments before, I leaned on them and entered the room with my senses on full alert. I looked around the open space and saw two sets of double doors, one of which no doubt led into Miss Parker’s office. The other I assumed was Sydney’s – though it might belong to the Mr Lyle I had been hearing about. Strange that Miss Parker had a twin brother – the one that Catherine had believed to have been stillborn – but that shouldn’t have surprised me, The Centre was a strange place full of stranger things.
The central floorspace was occupied by a few desks, a lounge suite, and the other usual office paraphernalia, such as filing cabinets, computers, etc. Even with my abilities, if I hadn’t been concentrating I might have missed the person hunched in front of an impressive computer setup in one corner of the room. He was thin, with a boyish face despite the loss of almost all of his hair. What was left of his hair was cropped close in a Patrick Stewart/Captain Picard kind of way that I found quite attractive.
I approached his desk and spoke, "Excuse me?"
He jumped, gave a small squeak and promptly knocked his cup of coffee onto the floor.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you." I quickly bent to help mop up the mess with some tissues which were sitting on his desk.
"No, no.." he stammered. "My fault. I guess I’m a little jumpy this morning." And every other morning as well, I felt him silently add. "What can I do to help y…" His words cut off short as he glanced up at me. He stared. I began to wonder if I had a smudge on my face or something so I quickly checked how he perceived me to find out what he was so surprised about. I was shocked to discover that through his eyes I looked beautiful. If only I really looked like that, I thought to myself ruefully, he obviously doesn’t get out much! However, that little boost to my ego helped boost my courage as well so for that I was grateful to him.
He recovered himself and gave me a sweet little smile. "Hi, I’m Broots. I guess you’re Miss Parker’s new PA."
I held out my hand. "That’s right. My name is Melinda." It suited me that personnel at The Centre tended only to be known by one name. I had no idea what my real last name. I had used my former employer’s – my lovely computer nerd - mother’s maiden name on my job application and now that application had been conveniently ‘misplaced’ by Mr Jones after I had mentioned I didn’t really want The Centre to contact my friend now I had the position. In fact, I didn’t even know what my real first name was and the name I was using now was not even what I had been known as when I was at The Centre.
He shook hands with me and said most sincerely, "Good luck." I didn’t need my abilities as his voice alone implied that he thought I was going to need it.
"So," I said breezily, "Is Sydney around yet? I’m supposed to report in to him."
"Yeah. Miss Parker’s gonna be late today." Broots replied. "Sydney’s in his office", he pointed towards one of the sets of doors before jumping up swiftly. "I’ll introduce you."
Following Broots through the doors, I had to fight the urge to dig my fingernails into my palms. I prayed that Sydney would not recognise me. Sydney was seated behind a large desk reading through some notes by the light of his desklamp. The lack of natural light in this place made it seem as if everyone here was working late into the night – even when it was only mid-morning. He glanced up as we entered. "Good morning, Broots!" He greeted warmly.
"Morning, Sydney." Broots replied. "Syd, this is Melinda. She’s gonna be Miss Parker’s personal assistant!" He announced my new position with a certain amount of mischievous glee.
Sydney appeared amused by the concept. I began to wonder exactly what kind of woman Catherine’s daughter had turned out to be – and why the mention of her usually evoked strong reactions from people. "Welcome, Melinda. I hope you enjoy a challenge."
"I most certainly do." I said bravely as I looked him straight in the eye. He smiled encouragingly.
Sydney had aged well in the ten years since I had seen him and he still exuded the same strong, confident, calming air that I had known all those years ago. There were changes though – a little bitterness, a lot of guilt, and regrets – that weren’t there before. These changes made him feel somehow more real to me than he had ever been before. This time however I was perceiving him through my adult senses – I was no longer the frightened and desperate child who saw him as a potential source of refuge but so unreachable, so mysterious, so unattainable.
I delved a little to see if I could ascertain whether my disguise had worked. It had apparently. There was no recognition from Sydney’s viewpoint. All that emanated from him was a sense of interest in what lay in store for their little team with me as a new player. In particular, he and Broots were both anticipating with barely concealed glee as to what might happen when Miss Parker arrived. As for myself, I wasn’t really looking forward to that moment.
"Broots," Sydney suggested. "Why don’t you show Melinda around this section of the building and get her settled in before Miss Parker arrives."
Broots leapt at the chance, delighted to have me put into his care. "Sure, no problem."
The tour took my mind off my impending meeting with Miss Parker and I had a very nice time being shown all the facilities by Broots. He pointed the lunchroom out to me – much nicer than the one I had used whilst working in the Admin Department – hesitatingly suggesting that we might have lunch together sometime. He was a little surprised when I easily agreed but was pleased nonetheless.
When we arrived back, he showed me my desk with its computer and phone system. He also upgraded my log-on for my computer to reflect my promotion. This would mean I had access to more information. I already knew how to operate both the telephone and computer systems but I let him teach me anyway. It seemed to mean a lot to him and I liked him enough already to play along. He even installed a cute little screensaver for me which I thought was very sweet of him.
Broots was more than the nervous computer geek he seemed to be, however, I was unable to sense exact details except that he was divorced, had a daughter whom he loved more than anything, and that he thought I was very attractive. This puzzled me. Perhaps it was just that he reminded me so much of my former employer – who was also a lovely computer nerd – that it clouded my perception of him. I would just have to get to know him the old-fashioned way for now – or at least take note of how others perceived him until I could get a better idea.
Broots gave me a few bits and pieces to do – as I would be taking on some of his tasks. I tried not to complete them too quickly but it was all pretty routine stuff. It surprised me that such work was given to a computer technician when it should really have been sent to the Admin Department. That didn’t seem to say much for Miss Parker’s opinion of Broots. Or did it say something about Broots that he would accept such work without complaint?
I asked Sydney if he had anything else for me to do – I hardly wanted to be sitting around doing nothing when Miss Parker arrived. He gave me a huge stack of his notes to type.
"Just do a little bit here and there when you get a chance. There’s no urgency for these." He said. "Obviously Miss Parker’s work will have priority."
I was tempted to try a little trick I had discovered one day when my boss had been at a conference and I had felt like going shopping. I worked out that I could just hold the handwritten notes, concentrate and the words would instantly appear on the computer screen already typed. The problem was that unless I concentrated really hard on it being word-for-word, the completed document ended up being what the writer would have eventually put in their final version due to the combination of the actual written words and the feeling from the writer imbued in them. I thought that was very efficient – cutting out the middle man so to speak – no revising of drafts over and over again. However, I found out the hard way that employers don’t really like you changing what they’ve written, even if it was what they really wanted to say in the end.
A couple of times I had tested my powers in this area further. My boss would say he was going to write a letter for me to type. Before he had even put his pen to paper, I would concentrate on him and then on my computer and with a little effort the letter would just appear! Later I would check it against what he had written and was pleasantly surprised by the result.
However, I decided that I would just type Sydney’s notes without using my abilities as it was not worth the risk of being discovered. No-one at The Centre had any idea of what I was capable of doing. Only Catherine had known and even she had not known anywhere near the extent of my gifts.
For as long as I could remember I had half-wished that I was normal – not ‘special’ – because being ‘special’ in The Centre could mean all sorts of terrible things. However, my abilities were also an important part of who I was and denying them all those years had been difficult. I had had to be very careful in any experimenting I did with them. One false move and I could be labelled a ‘Pretender’ or even perhaps something worse. Being a ‘Pretender’ meant being isolated from the other children in The Centre and having your every move monitored – and if you were assigned to someone like the feared Dr Raines then you might just wish you were dead.
Once I had put The Centre behind me – as much as one could anyway – I had more opportunity to explore my long hidden talents, although I always displayed a great degree of caution. The most important thing I had discovered was something that I had always believed but never known for sure to be true. That I was powerful. Very powerful. This knowledge filled me with a sense of confidence that I had never experienced before. This feeling of empowerment eventually gave me the courage I needed to return to The Centre to confront my past.
First, however, I would have to confront Miss Parker, the daughter of the woman I had loved but had failed to save.
Trust Can Kill You...Or Set You Free
Part II
by Melinda Coates
My new position was ready for me in less than two weeks. A few mistakes and inconvenient delays – arranged by Mr Jones – in the processing of Miss Parker’s paperwork were all it took. Miss Parkers was not a patient woman by any means. I had been out of the office at the time but the staff were all badly shaken when I returned.
I went in to see Mr Jones and he filled me in. "It worked perfectly! Miss Parker turned up here." He grinned at my look of amazement. "She was in quite a mood, to put it mildly." He stood up and walked around his desk towards me.
"From the atmosphere around here I’d say she was in more than just a mood." I replied wryly. The feelings I sensed seemed more suited to the aftermath of an armed hold-up. Fear, adrenalin and shock were the most prominent.
He laughed, "Okay, I’ll admit she was this close to shrieking like a banshee." He held his thumb and forefinger up about an inch apart. "Actually, if she had yelled I might have felt better. She made my blood run cold." His reaction felt so strong that I very nearly shivered. "Anyway, after I spent some time grovelling and apologising, Miss Parker accepted my suggestion that she might consider a personal assistant dedicated purely to the work of her team as opposed to using the Admin Department."
"I assume it will be an internal appointment, so is the next step for me to apply?" I asked. The descriptions of Miss Parker I had been hearing bothered me. She sounded nothing like her mother at all – or like the little girl I remembered.
Mr Jones looked very pleased with himself. "You start tomorrow, as a matter of fact."
I gasped. "That’s it? It’s all arranged?" I could hardly believe it.
"Yes. A desk is being set up for you in her team’s offices at this very moment. You’ll need to report to a man named Sydney as Miss Parker won’t be in until later on."
I froze. Sydney! I didn’t know he was working with Miss Parker, even though now it seemed obvious. I knew I would come across people who had known me when I had been at The Centre as a child but I guess I hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility of working closely with them. Ten years had changed me considerably – I still had my wild curls but now they were always carefully pinned up. I had also taken the precaution of wearing glasses to make me look less like the child I once was and more like the secretary that I was supposed to be. Would that be enough to keep Sydney from recognising me? It would have to be.
When I didn’t reply, Mr Jones became anxious. "You do still want this, don’t you?"
I shook myself. "Yes, of course! Thank you so much, Mr Jones." Overriding my desire to be cautious, I embraced him. "You have no idea what this means to me."
He held me gently. Feelings of warmth flooded through him. For me, I realised with surprise. For the most fleeting of moments, I felt safe. Almost as if I was back with my lovely computer nerd whose only desire in the world was to protect me. Safe, but not free. Never free.
Eventually he pulled away, his hands still on my shoulders. His eyes looked so soft. I felt almost a little intoxicated by the sweet emotions radiating from him. "Melinda," he began in a whisper, "I know you don’t return the feelings I have for you…" I tried to speak but he silenced me with gentle fingers on my lips. "It doesn’t matter. All I want is for you to promise me that you’ll be careful up there. The Centre can sometimes be a dangerous place."
An understatement if ever there was one but I nodded. "I promise."
"I’ll always be here for you, if you need anything. Particularly any political manipulations which could use my administrative touch." He smiled. "I’ve really enjoyed stirring up the waters. Thank you for believing in me when no-one else does."
"No problem." I whispered. With a start I realised that I trusted him. Trust can kill you… Okay, so not enough to tell him who I was and of what I was capable or even part of what I was planning – but I could trust him enough to perhaps accept his offer of assistance in the future and that he would . I could sense what else he needed me to say and it didn’t matter because it was what I wanted to say. "Your friendship is very important to me."
Relief and gratitude flowed from him. He was thankful that I had not rejected him completely, that even though I did not share his feelings, I still cared about him in some way. He was fairly perceptive for someone without my talents – and for a man – and he somehow understood that there was something different about me, that I had things to accomplish that were more important than romance. I sensed a thought whispering in his head, "Maybe someday…"
I smiled, feeling sad, and kissed him softly on the cheek before turning to leave his office to finish off my last day in the Administration Department.
I hardly slept at all that night. I tossed and turned, plagued by half-remembered nightmares. They were the same nightmares I’d been having well before I left The Centre. The scene of Catherine’s death replayed over and over just as I’d witnessed it with my mind all those years ago was prominent amongst them. Different versions of Catherine betraying me by revealing my hidden powers – something that had never happened in real life but was no less horrifying in a dream – another constant of my night-time dreaming. Now a new nightmare scene emerged, in relation to my current situation and all the things that could go wrong – and in particular, would end up with me once more being trapped within the darkness of The Centre.
Even though I was afraid, I had no choice but to continue on the path I had laid out for myself. So the next morning I arose early and with shaking hands set about taming my curls into a french roll and making sure my disguise was complete. This time it would be all important. This time I was going to be around Sydney. I had to do my best to ensure I looked as little like the child he once knew and more like Miss Parker’s new personal assistant.
I studied my reflection carefully, comparing it to what I remembered of the impression Sydney had of me as a child. One of my abilities is knowing how other people see me and even what they think of me – not a good thing if you don’t have a strong sense of self-value. It didn’t bother me because people’s impressions of me came from how I was acting at the time which was based on what they wanted to me to be. They weren’t aware of the real me, just who I had become in order to get what I needed from them. I decided that I looked suitably altered from the way Sydney remembered me so I gathered my things together, grabbed my car keys and headed for the door.
I was too nervous to eat so I drove straight to The Centre. My nerves were so on edge that I thought for a moment that the Sweeper at the entrance was going to stop me. I took a deep breath, stretched out my senses and brushed his mind lightly. His thoughts were only about how bored he was and how he would rather be fishing. The scene he had painted in his mind was so peaceful and calm that it, as well as the fact that his thoughts were not of accosting me, helped me to relax. He waved me through, barely glancing at my ID.
Not long after I was standing at the heavy double doors that opened onto the area set aside for Miss Parker’s team. Drawing on the calm inspired by the fishing scene helpfully supplied a few moments before, I leaned on them and entered the room with my senses on full alert. I looked around the open space and saw two sets of double doors, one of which no doubt led into Miss Parker’s office. The other I assumed was Sydney’s – though it might belong to the Mr Lyle I had been hearing about. Strange that Miss Parker had a twin brother – the one that Catherine had believed to have been stillborn – but that shouldn’t have surprised me, The Centre was a strange place full of stranger things.
The central floorspace was occupied by a few desks, a lounge suite, and the other usual office paraphernalia, such as filing cabinets, computers, etc. Even with my abilities, if I hadn’t been concentrating I might have missed the person hunched in front of an impressive computer setup in one corner of the room. He was thin, with a boyish face despite the loss of almost all of his hair. What was left of his hair was cropped close in a Patrick Stewart/Captain Picard kind of way that I found quite attractive.
I approached his desk and spoke, "Excuse me?"
He jumped, gave a small squeak and promptly knocked his cup of coffee onto the floor.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you." I quickly bent to help mop up the mess with some tissues which were sitting on his desk.
"No, no.." he stammered. "My fault. I guess I’m a little jumpy this morning." And every other morning as well, I felt him silently add. "What can I do to help y…" His words cut off short as he glanced up at me. He stared. I began to wonder if I had a smudge on my face or something so I quickly checked how he perceived me to find out what he was so surprised about. I was shocked to discover that through his eyes I looked beautiful. If only I really looked like that, I thought to myself ruefully, he obviously doesn’t get out much! However, that little boost to my ego helped boost my courage as well so for that I was grateful to him.
He recovered himself and gave me a sweet little smile. "Hi, I’m Broots. I guess you’re Miss Parker’s new PA."
I held out my hand. "That’s right. My name is Melinda." It suited me that personnel at The Centre tended only to be known by one name. I had no idea what my real last name. I had used my former employer’s – my lovely computer nerd - mother’s maiden name on my job application and now that application had been conveniently ‘misplaced’ by Mr Jones after I had mentioned I didn’t really want The Centre to contact my friend now I had the position. In fact, I didn’t even know what my real first name was and the name I was using now was not even what I had been known as when I was at The Centre.
He shook hands with me and said most sincerely, "Good luck." I didn’t need my abilities as his voice alone implied that he thought I was going to need it.
"So," I said breezily, "Is Sydney around yet? I’m supposed to report in to him."
"Yeah. Miss Parker’s gonna be late today." Broots replied. "Sydney’s in his office", he pointed towards one of the sets of doors before jumping up swiftly. "I’ll introduce you."
Following Broots through the doors, I had to fight the urge to dig my fingernails into my palms. I prayed that Sydney would not recognise me. Sydney was seated behind a large desk reading through some notes by the light of his desklamp. The lack of natural light in this place made it seem as if everyone here was working late into the night – even when it was only mid-morning. He glanced up as we entered. "Good morning, Broots!" He greeted warmly.
"Morning, Sydney." Broots replied. "Syd, this is Melinda. She’s gonna be Miss Parker’s personal assistant!" He announced my new position with a certain amount of mischievous glee.
Sydney appeared amused by the concept. I began to wonder exactly what kind of woman Catherine’s daughter had turned out to be – and why the mention of her usually evoked strong reactions from people. "Welcome, Melinda. I hope you enjoy a challenge."
"I most certainly do." I said bravely as I looked him straight in the eye. He smiled encouragingly.
Sydney had aged well in the ten years since I had seen him and he still exuded the same strong, confident, calming air that I had known all those years ago. There were changes though – a little bitterness, a lot of guilt, and regrets – that weren’t there before. These changes made him feel somehow more real to me than he had ever been before. This time however I was perceiving him through my adult senses – I was no longer the frightened and desperate child who saw him as a potential source of refuge but so unreachable, so mysterious, so unattainable.
I delved a little to see if I could ascertain whether my disguise had worked. It had apparently. There was no recognition from Sydney’s viewpoint. All that emanated from him was a sense of interest in what lay in store for their little team with me as a new player. In particular, he and Broots were both anticipating with barely concealed glee as to what might happen when Miss Parker arrived. As for myself, I wasn’t really looking forward to that moment.
"Broots," Sydney suggested. "Why don’t you show Melinda around this section of the building and get her settled in before Miss Parker arrives."
Broots leapt at the chance, delighted to have me put into his care. "Sure, no problem."
The tour took my mind off my impending meeting with Miss Parker and I had a very nice time being shown all the facilities by Broots. He pointed the lunchroom out to me – much nicer than the one I had used whilst working in the Admin Department – hesitatingly suggesting that we might have lunch together sometime. He was a little surprised when I easily agreed but was pleased nonetheless.
When we arrived back, he showed me my desk with its computer and phone system. He also upgraded my log-on for my computer to reflect my promotion. This would mean I had access to more information. I already knew how to operate both the telephone and computer systems but I let him teach me anyway. It seemed to mean a lot to him and I liked him enough already to play along. He even installed a cute little screensaver for me which I thought was very sweet of him.
Broots was more than the nervous computer geek he seemed to be, however, I was unable to sense exact details except that he was divorced, had a daughter whom he loved more than anything, and that he thought I was very attractive. This puzzled me. Perhaps it was just that he reminded me so much of my former employer – who was also a lovely computer nerd – that it clouded my perception of him. I would just have to get to know him the old-fashioned way for now – or at least take note of how others perceived him until I could get a better idea.
Broots gave me a few bits and pieces to do – as I would be taking on some of his tasks. I tried not to complete them too quickly but it was all pretty routine stuff. It surprised me that such work was given to a computer technician when it should really have been sent to the Admin Department. That didn’t seem to say much for Miss Parker’s opinion of Broots. Or did it say something about Broots that he would accept such work without complaint?
I asked Sydney if he had anything else for me to do – I hardly wanted to be sitting around doing nothing when Miss Parker arrived. He gave me a huge stack of his notes to type.
"Just do a little bit here and there when you get a chance. There’s no urgency for these." He said. "Obviously Miss Parker’s work will have priority."
I was tempted to try a little trick I had discovered one day when my boss had been at a conference and I had felt like going shopping. I worked out that I could just hold the handwritten notes, concentrate and the words would instantly appear on the computer screen already typed. The problem was that unless I concentrated really hard on it being word-for-word, the completed document ended up being what the writer would have eventually put in their final version due to the combination of the actual written words and the feeling from the writer imbued in them. I thought that was very efficient – cutting out the middle man so to speak – no revising of drafts over and over again. However, I found out the hard way that employers don’t really like you changing what they’ve written, even if it was what they really wanted to say in the end.
A couple of times I had tested my powers in this area further. My boss would say he was going to write a letter for me to type. Before he had even put his pen to paper, I would concentrate on him and then on my computer and with a little effort the letter would just appear! Later I would check it against what he had written and was pleasantly surprised by the result.
However, I decided that I would just type Sydney’s notes without using my abilities as it was not worth the risk of being discovered. No-one at The Centre had any idea of what I was capable of doing. Only Catherine had known and even she had not known anywhere near the extent of my gifts.
For as long as I could remember I had half-wished that I was normal – not ‘special’ – because being ‘special’ in The Centre could mean all sorts of terrible things. However, my abilities were also an important part of who I was and denying them all those years had been difficult. I had had to be very careful in any experimenting I did with them. One false move and I could be labelled a ‘Pretender’ or even perhaps something worse. Being a ‘Pretender’ meant being isolated from the other children in The Centre and having your every move monitored – and if you were assigned to someone like the feared Dr Raines then you might just wish you were dead.
Once I had put The Centre behind me – as much as one could anyway – I had more opportunity to explore my long hidden talents, although I always displayed a great degree of caution. The most important thing I had discovered was something that I had always believed but never known for sure to be true. That I was powerful. Very powerful. This knowledge filled me with a sense of confidence that I had never experienced before. This feeling of empowerment eventually gave me the courage I needed to return to The Centre to confront my past.
First, however, I would have to confront Miss Parker, the daughter of the woman I had loved but had failed to save.
