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Disclaimer info goes here .. No money . blah blah blah copyrights yadda yadda. No infringement intended yea whatever. I'm just killing time until TNT releases our favorite program on DVD.



A Not so Perfect World Part 6


If You Love Something Set It Free


By Phenyx



Jarod and Miss Parker strode hand in hand into the sunshine filled kitchen. Sydney and Jarod's parents were already there. Sydney and the Major sat at the table while Jarod's mother stood at the stove flipping pancakes in a skillet.


The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Jarod flashed Sydney a quick look of apology. The past eighteen hours must have been difficult for his old mentor. Jarod felt a rush of shame flash through him as he realized that he and Parker had abandoned their old friend to face the Lamberts alone. Margaret Lambert was a force to be reckoned with when she was upset. And she had been upset with Sydney for decades.


Parker gestured Jarod toward one of the empty chairs then moved away to pull two mugs from the cupboard. As Jarod watched her movements, he felt bereft of her nearness. He wanted to be close to her. Jarod wanted to feel the safety and strength of her touch like a child needs the comfort of a mother's protective hand.


Parker must have seen something in the look Jarod gave her. Her blue eyes flickered toward him surreptitiously and a reassuring smile curled the corners of her mouth. Jarod felt a warmth from her as though she had caressed him. 'I am right here.' Her eyes told him.


"Did you get any sleep, Dear?" Jarod's mother interrupted his thoughts.


Jarod dragged his gaze from Parker's and nodded. "Yes, Mother, I did."


"Good." She said, flipping a pancake onto a plate. "Now that we have that unpleasant dream out in the open, you can get your life back to normal. Your Dad could use your help on the ranch. No one else can ride that russet stallion, you know." Margaret glanced haughtily at Miss Parker. "My son is very good with animals."


Parker set a cup of coffee in front of Jarod. She had already sweetened it and added milk so that the coffee was just the way Jarod liked it. "Yes, I know." Parker said, taking a sip from her own cup.


Margaret placed the plate of pancakes in front of Jarod. "Here you go, Son. It's your favorite. Blueberry pancakes." Margaret glared possessively at Miss Parker. "Jarod loves my pancakes."


Jarod felt the distinct chill that abruptly descended on the room and he swallowed. His mother didn't understand. The unspoken challenge dripping from the tone in her voice was like a gauntlet thrown down at Parker's feet. Jarod would bend over backward to prevent his mother from getting upset. But Parker had no such compunction.


As Jarod felt the air crackle with tension, he realized that these two women were the most important females in his life. Always had been. Always would be. Both strong, independent survivors, Parker and his mother were each setting the parameters of their jurisdiction in Jarod's life. He had the distinct feeling of a rag doll being pulled at from opposite sides.


"It's the syrup." Parker said blandly. "He'll eat erasers if you put enough syrup on them."


Margaret frowned at the implied insult.


It was only with great effort that Jarod was able to keep himself from flinching. The three men at the table cast worried looks at each other as the battle of wills swelled around them.


"Parker?" Jarod pleaded gently.


Miss Parker smiled at him. Standing beside Jarod's chair, Parker ran a tender caress through his hair. "Eat your pancakes, darling." She purred at him.


The endearment rolled off her lips easily and Jarod blinked at her in surprise. He risked a quick look at his mother to see an irritated frown on the older woman's face. The situation was not getting better. Jarod thought frantically on how he could defuse the situation.


"My son already has a girlfriend, Miss Parker." Margaret stated. "She's a nice girl." The inflection of Margaret's words implied that Parker was not.


Jarod took the coward's way out. Picking up his fork, he slowly and intently ate his breakfast, keeping he eyes low and downcast. Parker could handle herself, Jarod knew. And his mother was just begging for a fight. Jarod was staying out of this one. With a hasty glance across the table at his father and Sydney, Jarod realized that they too seemed to be concentrating excessively on the plates in front of them. It was almost comical.


"Jarod doesn't need a nice girl." Parker cooed.


Margaret tilted her head inquisitively. "What kind of girl does he need, Miss Parker? A gun-totting assassin like you?"


A cool smile spread across Parker's face. But she said nothing.


"You Parkers are dangerous." Margaret hissed. "And I won't let you steal my son from me again."


Parker gazed sadly at Jarod's mother. "You just don't get it do you?" Parker asked. With a sigh her shoulders slumped and the animosity seemed to drain out of her body. "You never really got him back."


"Parker." Jarod said softly. "Please don't."


Parker turned to glare at the wide-eyed pretender. "Would you gentlemen excuse us? Margaret and I need to talk."


Jarod's mother glared at Parker. The three men glanced at each other questioningly. Parker gently placed a hand on Jarod's shoulder and nodded at him reassuringly. "It will be okay." She told him softly.


"You won't hurt her?" Jarod asked.


"I'll try not to." Parker answered honestly.


Jarod looked from one woman to the other in hesitation. It suddenly dawned on Jarod that these two women were amazingly alike. Strong, intelligent and capable; each was independent and fiercely protective. They both had tender, compassionate souls and a fearlessly honest nature. The most astonishing thing, in Jarod's mind, was that they each only wanted what they thought was best for him.


"Let me handle this, Jarod." Parker said in a harsh tone. "Or I'll make you decide for yourself."


Jarod cast a fearful worried glance at Parker and then his mother. Choose? How was he supposed to decide between two lives? He couldn't. He wouldn't and Parker knew it. Starved for love and attention all his life, the pretender could never intentionally turn his back on the people he had spent a lifetime dreaming about. He would tear himself in two before he would even try.


Jarod had no experience with juggling relationships in his life. He'd never had to share his time with different people. There had only ever been one person occupying Jarod's focus at any given time. For most of his life that person had been Sydney. Even since he had left The Centre, the pretends he had done nearly always involved one main character. One person to help. One goal to achieve. Jarod could become different people, but he didn't know how to be one person who interacted differently based on the differing relationships in his life.


Parker knew this about him. She knew exactly how difficult the last year had been for Jarod. Being thrust into a family that he couldn't really understand had been hard. Jarod had grown up with the people closest to him controlling every detail of his existence. Manipulation and coercion dominated the relationships of Jarod's past. That he could deal with. Interpreting the subtle nuances of the interdependence of family, he simply could not fathom. Lead or follow. Those were the only two positions Jarod understood in a relationship, any relationship.


Except for the connection he shared with Parker.


Jarod's mouth fell open as this realization struck him. The bond he shared with Parker had always had the miraculous ability to shift from one angle to the other. Sometimes Jarod took the lead, guiding Parker through her difficult time in Carthis for example. Other times, Parker was the dominant personality, taking charge and offering Jarod solace and protection when he needed it. Like now.


In any conversation, the relationship between them could morph from predator and prey to confessor, tormentor, protector and partner. With the added complication of lover and seductress, the bond between Jarod and Parker was like a fine oil painting. Layers of time and experience together had created a blend of emotions that were the color in this delicate piece of art.


Parker put a hand to Jarod's cheek and smiled at him. "You’re beginning to understand, aren't you?" she said.


Jarod nodded in awe. "I think so." He whispered. It had taken years of patience and trust to build what the two of them now shared. Jarod began to realize that he could no longer hide the darker aspect of his personality from his family. It was an integral part of who he was. A true relationship could never develop if they did not really know who Jarod had become. But could his mother accept this person? Jarod was afraid of the answer.


"Let me handle this." Parker repeated gently. Turning Jarod around, she tenderly shoved him toward the kitchen door. He seemed a little dazed and lost in thought as he wandered into the next room. Sydney and the Major followed him cautiously, leaving Parker alone in the kitchen with Jarod's mother.


"You treat him like a child." Margaret said accusingly.


Parker shrugged. "Sometimes he is a child."


"He is a grown man." The older woman rebuked.


"He is Jarod. He is a compilation of the experiences of his life, just like anyone else." Parker explained. "But Jarod was never given the opportunity to live a normal life. He's missed out on so much. And so much of what he was given has been traumatic."


Margaret glared doubtfully at Miss Parker.


Parker crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "How much has he told you about his life in The Centre?" she demanded.


"Not much." Margaret answered. "You Parkers caused him a great deal of pain, I know that."


"He wasn't the only child locked up there you know. There were so many projects, so many experiments." Parker whispered. "There were eight children in the Red Files project. Jarod was only one of them."


Parker glanced warily at Jarod's mother through lowered lashes. "Only half of them are still alive. Of those who did survive, most are quite mad."


"Jarod isn't crazy." Margaret whispered.


"Isn't he?" Parker asked softly. "There is a fine line between genius and madness. Jarod has walked that line every day for more than thirty years." Parker paused for a moment to watch the older woman's reaction. "Have you ever seen him obsess about something new?"


Margaret shook her head, slowly.


Parker raised one eyebrow knowingly. "How many blueberry pancakes did he eat when you first made them for him?"


The older woman blinked at Parker in surprise.


A smirk crossed Parker's face as she went on. "Twenty? Thirty?" Parker nodded. "He ate nothing but blueberry pancakes for days. Am I right?"


"When he found a brand of instant mix at the grocer's, he bought their entire inventory." Margaret said haltingly. "How did you know?"


Parker shook her head. "Because I know Jarod. That's what he does. Once he discovers a new experience, he repeats it again and again until he reaches sensory overload."


"Are you telling me that my son needs a keeper?" the older woman's voice vibrated with anger.


"No." Parker sighed sadly. "Jarod is a survivor. Eventually he will figure things out on his own." Parker looked down and casually plucked at a bit of fluff on her shirt. "He doesn't need anything, or anyone. Ultimately, he would have left the hospital on his own once he had realized the futility of it. But it's lonely for him, knowing that there are things he can't share with any of the people around him. He has such an outgoing and loving soul but emotionally he is so isolated and alone."


"He'll learn to share those things with us one day." Margaret said.


Parker's sad smile returned. "No, he won't. There are things that you will never know. In an effort to protect you from the nightmare he lived through, he will never tell you." Parker tilted her head at the older woman, pondering her next words. "Shall I tell you, Margaret? Shall I tell you one of Jarod's secrets?"


"Please." Margaret spoke in a whisper.


"Do you know what electricity feels like? Do you know how many volts it takes to make the hair on the back of your arms stand up?" Parker's voice took on an icy detached tone. "What level of current rushes up your arm like a warm, tingle of vibration? When does the tingle begin to cause pain? At what point does the flesh begin to sear where the current enters the body? When does your hair begin to fry?"


Margaret swallowed and shook her head in denial.


"Jarod knows." Parker said in a low dangerous voice. "He can tell you the specific numbers from memory." Parker inhaled deeply. "Mr. Raines taught Jarod all about electricity. And he didn't learn it from any book. Jarod was ten years old the first time they electrocuted him."


Parker's eyes drifted shut as she sighed desolately. "Have you ever heard a boy screaming in pain, Margaret?"


The older woman stared at Parker in astonishment. She had somehow fooled herself into thinking that isolation had been Jarod's greatest torment. Knowing that her little boy had been cruelly tortured came as a shock. Jarod was valuable to The Centre. Margaret had believed that he was too valuable for them to risk his safety. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Parker opened her eyes just in time to see the moisture drop from Margaret's chin.


"The fact of the matter is," Parker said. "Jarod has survived. He will always find a way to survive." Her voice softened. "But I think he deserves more than just survival, don't you?"


Both women looked at each other with tears swimming in their eyes.


"I understand him." Parker said. "We share a common background. The Centre raised us both and together we've seen things that would curl your hair. He can't frighten me away, even if he tries. I won't run from him when the nightmares come. I won't be afraid or offended when he goes on a sugar binge or decides to go for a walk and disappears for a week."


Parker gazed at the older woman with a pleading look in her eyes. "Jarod will always do as you tell him to because you are the mother he cherishes. But forcing him to become something you want rather than allowing him to be the person he is wouldn't be fair to Jarod. In all honesty, I've become somewhat attached to the person he has become. He's sometimes annoying and mysterious and a little dangerous but he is also a very special human being."


"You love him." Margaret whispered.


"My world has revolved around him for a very long time." Parker said simply. "I need him so much more than he needs me. But if you tell him that, I will deny it."


Margaret smiled slightly.


"Jarod and I have been part of each other's lives for as long as we can remember." Parker went on. "Nothing can change that. If you and I can find a way to get along, things will be so much easier for him."


Margaret sighed.


"What it boils down to is this." Parker said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am not going anywhere. You can't chase me away. And Jarod will not excise me from his life. Deal with it."


Margaret gazed at Miss Parker. Unable to hold back any longer, tears of despair rolled down her cheeks. "There are so many years to make up for." The older woman whispered. "I let him down. I am his mother. I should have protected him better. You are asking me to abandon him again."


"No." Parker said gently. "Never abandon him." She stepped carefully around the table and approached the other woman. "Give him the space and the time he needs to learn to trust in you."


"He trusts you completely. Doesn't he, Miss Parker?" Margaret asked forlornly.


"It has taken thirty years to build this trust between us." Parker said. "He trusts me because I trust him. Among all the other people we have ever known in our lives, he and I have never had any lies between us."


Margaret looked intently into Miss Parker's eyes and began to comprehend the depth of the connection between this woman and her son. She wondered, suddenly, what kind of life had Miss Parker led? What had her childhood been like? Perhaps, just perhaps, Parker knew her son so completely not only because she had studied his every move for years, but also as a result of similar experiences and traumas in her own life.


"I don't have any choice in this, do I?" Margaret asked in resignation. "If you are right, I will eventually lose him again anyway."


"If I'm right, you lost him when he was four." Parker said wryly. "Take my advice and you may get to know him again some day."


"Promise me that you'll take good care of him." Margaret said, blowing her nose on a napkin.


Parker smiled. "It's more likely that he will be taking care of me." She said with chagrin.


"Well," Margaret sniffed. "What do we do now?"


"You need to go talk to Jarod." Parker said. "Tell him how you feel. Tell him that this is not his fault. Then just listen to him."


Margaret nodded and began to leave the room in search of her son.


"And, Mrs. Lambert?" The older woman stopped with one hand on the door when Parker called to her. "It will be the things he doesn't say that are the most important."


Margaret stepped onto the back porch and wordlessly sat on the steps beside Jarod. He flashed her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She smiled back. A gentle breeze was blowing across the yard, pushing dark tendrils of hair across Jarod's face. Margaret gazed at her son for a moment, desperately trying to see some piece of the little boy he had once been.


"What?" Jarod asked with a wary, crooked smile as he noticed her scrutiny.


"You still have the same dark eyes." She whispered, reaching out to tenderly brush back the unruly locks. "You always had such big brown eyes."


Jarod smiled sadly. "I remember so little from my life before The Centre."


"You were so inquisitive. You wanted to know how everything worked." Margaret smiled. "When you were just a toddler, you would bring me live spiders and squashed bugs. When other children were picking dandelions for their mothers, you were bringing me millipedes and earthworms."


Jarod laughed. "I don't remember that."


Margaret shrugged. "You were just a baby. Most of what you brought to me was half squished in your pudgy little baby hands."


"I remember my lunch box." Jarod said in a far off voice. "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing? I had forgotten my family but I remembered a lunch box."


"You were very proud of that lunch box, Jarod." Margaret told him. "I thought you would be frightened on the first day of school. You were so much younger than all the other children. But you were too excited to be afraid. You tried hard to act grown up about it all."


"I don't remember being in school, but I have a distinct memory of walking down the sidewalk into the building." Jarod said slowly. "There was a big black car sitting at the curb. It was a four-door sedan, late model. I saw the men in that car watching me." Jarod shrugged. "Knowing the way sweepers work nowadays, I guess those two probably followed me for several days before I was taken."


Jarod fell silent. Margaret looked at him intently, hoping to gain some insight as to where he was going with this. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anymore, Miss Parker's words whispered through Margaret's mind.


"It will be the things he doesn't say that are the most important." Miss Parker had told her in the kitchen.


Margaret now understood what the younger woman meant. The unspoken question hung in the air like an icy cold fog between them.


"You wonder why I never saw them." Margaret whispered. "You saw them and they frightened you, otherwise you wouldn't remember it so clearly. I should have seen them." She cast her eyes downward and stared at the grass.


"I should have said something." Jarod whispered. "You had no way of knowing."


"None of this was your fault, Jarod." Margaret said firmly. "You were just a little boy. There was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened to you."


"I should have tried harder." Jarod said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I should have remembered. I should have run away sooner. I shouldn't have helped them." He swallowed as his eyes shimmered with tears.


Margaret felt her own tears swelling in her throat. She realized suddenly that Jarod didn't blame her entirely for what had happened. For the most part, he blamed himself. Jarod would always hold himself responsible for the breakup of their family. He would always carry the weight of that shame. Jarod was literally driving himself crazy trying to make up for the past.


"Miss Parker is right, isn't she?" Margaret swallowed. "We can't act as though this never happened."


Jarod shook his head silently.


Margaret took Jarod's hand in her own. She realized now that the more tightly she tried to hold on to her son, the farther away he would become emotionally. The guilt that he heaped on himself only increased when his family showered him with affection. She needed to let her son go. Jarod needed to find a way to forgive him self. Only then would forgiveness come for the rest of them.


"I love you, Jarod. I have always loved you. I will always love you." Margaret said desperately.


Jarod nodded, unable to speak.


"You come home to us whenever you are ready." Margaret said urgently.


Jarod nodded again and wiped tears from one cheek with his shirtsleeve.


"I expect you to visit often, regardless." She said firmly.


"I will." Jarod vowed. "I promise."


Margaret took her son's chin in her palm and tilted his face up to gaze into those wondrous brown eyes. "Every holiday will be spent at the ranch." She said firmly. "There will be no negotiation on this point, understood?"


Jarod sniffed. "Yes, Ma'am." He said with a wry smile.


"So," Margaret sighed. "I assume you'll be staying here for a while then?"


Jarod shrugged. "This is where I belong, Mom."


"Are you sure, son?" Margaret asked.


With a nod, Jarod answered. "Parker is the only constant in my life that I have ever been completely sure of."


Margaret shook her head in resignation. "Well then," she sighed. "You may as well bring her with you when you visit."


Jarod chuckled. "You'll learn to like her, Mom. She takes some getting used to but eventually she'll grow on you."


"I hope you're right, Jarod." Margaret said. "Because I'm beginning to get the feeling that she will be a part of our lives for quite a long time."


Jarod nodded. "I can guarantee it." He said confidently. "A very long time, indeed."


Margaret laughed. Putting her arm around Jarod's shoulders, she pulled him into a loving embrace.


Jarod snuggled his face into crook of his mother's neck. "I love you, Mom." He said softly.


"I love you too, baby." She replied tenderly.


Sitting on the steps in the bright sunshine with her son wrapped in her arms, Margaret felt the first fragile bonds beginning to form between them. It letting Jarod go, Margaret had found a way to be closer to him, somehow.


Maybe there was still hope for them after all.









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