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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer in part one. . . .
The Truth Hurts
Part 12
Shannon
Fergus made his way carefully along the darkened corridors of the Caer. He shivered as the cold air invaded his bones, he wanted more than anything to be home, instead of rummaging around in the storage rooms looking for a key. The last room loomed ahead, at the end of the cold, dank, and musty tunnel. It was in this very room that he and Margaret had found the lass. He remembered that morning as if it had been only yesterday as he opened the wooden door, almost expecting to see her there sitting on the cold concrete floor, with notebooks, files and papers spread in a semi-circle about her, tears staining her cheeks but it was her eyes that he remembered the most. Never in his fifty odd years had he seen eyes that blazed with so much hatred when she looked up to find Margaret standing behind him in this very doorway.
Fergus let the memory pass and began to search about the room, rifling through boxes, overturning furniture, and checking the cracks and crevices for that damn key.
***
Donal realized that he had little time to search the room used by Jarod and Miss Parker before someone noticed that he was missing from the death bed vigil for Violet. He hated this more than anything but there was no getting out of it, not if he wanted to keep his grandson safe. The light by the bed was on and he quickly scanned the table, finding nothing but a glass of water. The armoire held only a silver hairbrush and matching mirror along with a woman's wristwatch. Making his way to the closet, he opened the sliding door and found the black leather jacket that the lass was so fond of wearing. Slipping his hand into the pockets, hoping to find that which his blackmailer wanted. Nothing. No key, not even a set of keys. He'd have to do a more intense search of the room in the morning when he'd have more time.
For now, Margaret would have to accept the fact that Violet's death hampered his mission. Her threats be damned, he thought, he was about to lose his dearest friend and nothing was going to prevent him from being with her, or even there for Marley and his wife, Geilie. He stood there for a moment on the bottom stair, lost in his thoughts when the door to the bedroom opened.
"There ye be, Donal. Violet be askin for ye," Marley said, softly as she took hold of his hand in hers," Tis hard on us all, ye dinna need to grieve alone."
"Ye know me too well, lass," Donal replied, as he patted the small hand with his free one. " I canna say good-bye and . . ."
"If it's any comfort to ye, ye isna alone."
"Nay, I canna say it's much comfort to me, but thank ye for tellin' me."
***
Margaret frowned and played with a tendril of her hair where it had escaped the braid that hung down her back. Her eyebrows lowered into a frown like gathering stormclouds. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it she hoped to dispel this anxious feeling. Since finding Catherine's daughter at the Caer, things had not gone as she had planned.
Her brief appearance to her son, should have sent him to the Caer searching for answers but his bond to Miss Parker was proving stronger. Much stronger. Margaret knew that her son cared for Catherine's daughter, after all that was one of the goals that she had strived for all these years, but what worried her was how that bond had seemed to cement itself so quickly over these past four months. The longer he stayed with Miss Parker, he would eventually realize that her memories had been lost not because of the accident, but by outside forces. Once he had that information, she knew that Jarod would go to whatever lengths necessay to find out who was reponsible for this manipulation.
The imminent death of Violet Penfield also hindered her plans for her son. Jarod and his sense of loyalty. Thankfully, she didn't have to contend with Ethan. His skills as a pretender and his inner sense made him a threat, any physical contact between him and his sister would prove catastrophic for her and the Centre. He had turned out to be a liability instead of the asset she had originally envisioned when she developed the Mirage project. She thanked the devil that Raines had gotten to Edna before Miss Parker had and was equally thankful that she refused to tell Jarod what she knew.
***
An hour later, Fergus knew that his search had proven futile and it was time to face her. Grimacing at the thought, he headed up the stairs and into the residental part of the Caer, he hoped that Donal's search of the lass's room would prove more fruitful. Knocking on the ornately craved door, he inhaled sharply gathering the strength to tell his employer that he hadn't
located the key.
***
Jarod sat and stared at his laptop, knowing that Broots had gotten his latest email and computer program to implant into the Centre's mainframe so as to send Lyle and Mr. Cox on a search of his father and the boy.
His concentration wasn't on keeping the Centre at bay for his thoughts continually returned to the sleeping figure on the bed in the other room. Although she had no recollection of ever meeting Violet prior to this night, her death seemed to hit Parker hard, calling forth memories of her mother's and that of Thomas Gates' death. She had nearly passed out in Violet's bedroom, her face drained of its color, that Jarod was ready to take her back to the hospital. She had vetoed that idea, quickly by telling him that it was the situation and the fact that she had not eaten since early afternoon.
***
Turning his thoughts to their relationship, he pondered the possibility that he had been wrong to keep it a secret from her, after all Violet had encouraged him to be truthful with her. Their relationship was considerably more complicated than any relationship-friend or otherwise, he had ever experienced. It wasn't that Parker wasn't his friend. There was just so much more. She had had some unresolved feelings of ambivalence toward him regarding the death of Thomas, yet when she had absolved him of any responsibility in his death, Jarod knew then that their relationship had changed. And for the better. He knew how he felt about her. Here. Today. Violet had been right, he shouldn't tippytoe around it. Never mind the emotional baggage related to their past- the truth was, he felt complete when with her.
***
Parker lay sleepless in the bed, she felt trapped. Violet's passing had brought forth unwanted memories of the loss of her mother and Thomas and the grief that accompanied those memories. Then there was the argument that she had had with Jarod. An argument that she provoked, hoping to push him away, she accused him of lying. And everything after that went wrong, instead of walking away, he kissed her. Now those faceless dreams of feathery kisses and warm touchs were replaced with Jarod. Pushing those thoughts aside, she twisted over to her side and closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, but ten minutes later she was twisting back the other way, eyes wide open again.
She sighed and sat up. What she needed was some fresh air. Quietly, so as not to alert Jarod, who was busy in the small room off the bedroom, she turned the quilt back and fumbled in the dark for the bathrobe that rested on the chair by the bed. Reaching the balcony door, she slide it open, feeling the cold air hit her. The rain and wind had died shortly after Violet had. The clouds now scudded across the night sky, leaving enough moonlight to break through for her to see the Caer. Leaning her hands on the ironwrought handrail, she stared intently at the colossal rock monstrosity. As far back as she could remember, castles and such had always intrigued her as a child, and yet something about this one made her feel threatened. The fear of what lurked around the corners or was hidden in the dark shadows caused the infantile chattering inside her head to increase.
"Parker?" his voice was soft and low. She didn't need to turn around to see his face, along with the concern and worry that would be written there. "Come inside, where it's warm." She glanced at him.
"It's full of hatred and evil," she murmured turning back.
"What is, Parker?" Jarod looked out at the scene in front of him," The Caer? Do you remember going there before the accident?"
"I think so. . .oh, hell, I don't know." She brought a hand up to her forehead, her eyes closing." He doesn't always make sense."
"The voices?" he asked.
"Voice, and he's been babbling constantly, ever since the accident. Violet told me to listen to him. To trust him. "
"Ethan, perhaps. You can trust him."
"No, it's not Ethan," she said with a shake, and she seemed relieved to be sharing the burden at last.
"Then who?"
"I wish I knew," she frowned as the lightheadedness of earlier returned, her body swaying slightly, that Jarod had his arm around her waist to steady her against him.
"You need to rest. By the way, you still haven't eaten, have you, Parker?" Jarod asked as he tightened his grip around her waist and his calm confident stride left no doubt that he knew exactly where they were headed. "You're stuck with me, so don't even try and pick a fight, got it."
***
Broots went pale, when he saw Mr. Lyle along with Mr. Cox enter the tech room, his fingers flying across the keyboard panel. Swallowing hard, he tried to moisten a mouth that had suddenly gone dry and pasty.
"Mr. Lyle. Mr. Cox. Can I help you?"
Mr. Cox's brows furrowed slightly.
"Perhaps some news about the return of our missing pretender?" Cox said, as Broots stared at him for a disbelieving moment.
"Yes, sir," with a weak nod and his fingers skipped across his keyboard. Broots peered at the monitor's screen, please at what he saw. "Seems that Major Charles, the boy, and Jarod were spotted . . . ."
"Where?" Lyle demanded, his brow twitching.
"Cuernavaca," Broots replied as he turned the monitor around for the two men to view the message on the screen.
"That sounds familiar to me, Mr. Broots?" Mr. Cox said, leaning over the monitor.
"Jarod was there a few years ago, perhaps you read it in reports that Miss Parker and I have submitted." The two men turned to find Sydney standing behind them in the doorway. He waited a few moments for a reply. When none came, he continued. " Jarod must have thought that his father and the boy would be safe there from Centre sweepers."
"Perhaps," Mr. Cox murmured as he glanced at the computer techie, who returned the stare even though his knees were knocking together under the desk. Lyle pulled his cell phone from inside his suitcoat pocket and with a quick flip it was opened. His finger stabbed a single number on the green illuminated number pad before placing the receiver to his ear.
"Have the jet ready for Cuernavaca, immediately," snapping the phone shut, he looked at Cox," You coming?"
Cox looked at Lyle, his jaw tightening at the suggestion, his expression made it clear that he'd rather not, but he could not think of an alternative plan and Mr. Parker had made it clear that he stay with Lyle. Cox hated the fact that he was being used as a glorified babysitter but Lyle's choices for allies lately had nearly ended with Mr. Parker's death. What was it Mr. Parker had called him, the responsible one.
"Of course I'm coming." The two men scuttled out of the room, leaving the other two alone.
"God, Syd that was too close," Broots said as he stood up from his chair, wiping the faint line of sweat from his forehead.
"We have a bigger problem than sending Lyle and Mr. Cox on unproductive side trips, Broots," Sydney whispered.
"We do?" Broots quiered.
"Yes, we do. Miss Parker was in an accident."
"Is she alright?"
"Physically, yes . . . ."
"I hear a but coming at the end of that sentence, don't I?"
"Amnesia, the last four months, blank," Sydney replied, nodding.
"You're not serious. No, no, this isn't happening," Broots started to pace, then stopped and looked again at Sydney," This is happening, isn't it?"
"Yes and even though there is nothing that we can do from here about it, we had best be prepared for the worst case scenrio. In the meantime, someone made a request of your computer skills in searching the Centre's mainframe."
"What am I searching for?"
"Not what, who. Someone by the name of Lachlan Abbott."
***
When the seatbeat sign blinked out overhead, Ethan pulled the duffel bag out from underneath the seat in front of him and rummaged through it, and finally located the item he was seeking. An album full of photographs. He had gone back to his foster-parent's home, the voices in is head telling to go and yet he was unsure of what he would find. It was laying there in the shrubs, it's brown paper wrapping damp and the writting smeared and bled. It he could just make a first name in the return address---Edna. He found himself going through it, when one of the pictures, a group shot with the names of the participants inscribed on the back as well as the photographer's name embossed in gold on the front. Two couples and a lone woman stood in front of an ornate iron-wrought gate, unfortunately the photograph was faded, and the writing too small to read it clearly, but he knew two. His mother. And the other was none other than Mr. Raines. The voice, which had been quiet until now, began to murmured in his head.
"Truth behind the gate!"
The Truth Hurts
Part 12
Shannon
Fergus made his way carefully along the darkened corridors of the Caer. He shivered as the cold air invaded his bones, he wanted more than anything to be home, instead of rummaging around in the storage rooms looking for a key. The last room loomed ahead, at the end of the cold, dank, and musty tunnel. It was in this very room that he and Margaret had found the lass. He remembered that morning as if it had been only yesterday as he opened the wooden door, almost expecting to see her there sitting on the cold concrete floor, with notebooks, files and papers spread in a semi-circle about her, tears staining her cheeks but it was her eyes that he remembered the most. Never in his fifty odd years had he seen eyes that blazed with so much hatred when she looked up to find Margaret standing behind him in this very doorway.
Fergus let the memory pass and began to search about the room, rifling through boxes, overturning furniture, and checking the cracks and crevices for that damn key.
***
Donal realized that he had little time to search the room used by Jarod and Miss Parker before someone noticed that he was missing from the death bed vigil for Violet. He hated this more than anything but there was no getting out of it, not if he wanted to keep his grandson safe. The light by the bed was on and he quickly scanned the table, finding nothing but a glass of water. The armoire held only a silver hairbrush and matching mirror along with a woman's wristwatch. Making his way to the closet, he opened the sliding door and found the black leather jacket that the lass was so fond of wearing. Slipping his hand into the pockets, hoping to find that which his blackmailer wanted. Nothing. No key, not even a set of keys. He'd have to do a more intense search of the room in the morning when he'd have more time.
For now, Margaret would have to accept the fact that Violet's death hampered his mission. Her threats be damned, he thought, he was about to lose his dearest friend and nothing was going to prevent him from being with her, or even there for Marley and his wife, Geilie. He stood there for a moment on the bottom stair, lost in his thoughts when the door to the bedroom opened.
"There ye be, Donal. Violet be askin for ye," Marley said, softly as she took hold of his hand in hers," Tis hard on us all, ye dinna need to grieve alone."
"Ye know me too well, lass," Donal replied, as he patted the small hand with his free one. " I canna say good-bye and . . ."
"If it's any comfort to ye, ye isna alone."
"Nay, I canna say it's much comfort to me, but thank ye for tellin' me."
***
Margaret frowned and played with a tendril of her hair where it had escaped the braid that hung down her back. Her eyebrows lowered into a frown like gathering stormclouds. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it she hoped to dispel this anxious feeling. Since finding Catherine's daughter at the Caer, things had not gone as she had planned.
Her brief appearance to her son, should have sent him to the Caer searching for answers but his bond to Miss Parker was proving stronger. Much stronger. Margaret knew that her son cared for Catherine's daughter, after all that was one of the goals that she had strived for all these years, but what worried her was how that bond had seemed to cement itself so quickly over these past four months. The longer he stayed with Miss Parker, he would eventually realize that her memories had been lost not because of the accident, but by outside forces. Once he had that information, she knew that Jarod would go to whatever lengths necessay to find out who was reponsible for this manipulation.
The imminent death of Violet Penfield also hindered her plans for her son. Jarod and his sense of loyalty. Thankfully, she didn't have to contend with Ethan. His skills as a pretender and his inner sense made him a threat, any physical contact between him and his sister would prove catastrophic for her and the Centre. He had turned out to be a liability instead of the asset she had originally envisioned when she developed the Mirage project. She thanked the devil that Raines had gotten to Edna before Miss Parker had and was equally thankful that she refused to tell Jarod what she knew.
***
An hour later, Fergus knew that his search had proven futile and it was time to face her. Grimacing at the thought, he headed up the stairs and into the residental part of the Caer, he hoped that Donal's search of the lass's room would prove more fruitful. Knocking on the ornately craved door, he inhaled sharply gathering the strength to tell his employer that he hadn't
located the key.
***
Jarod sat and stared at his laptop, knowing that Broots had gotten his latest email and computer program to implant into the Centre's mainframe so as to send Lyle and Mr. Cox on a search of his father and the boy.
His concentration wasn't on keeping the Centre at bay for his thoughts continually returned to the sleeping figure on the bed in the other room. Although she had no recollection of ever meeting Violet prior to this night, her death seemed to hit Parker hard, calling forth memories of her mother's and that of Thomas Gates' death. She had nearly passed out in Violet's bedroom, her face drained of its color, that Jarod was ready to take her back to the hospital. She had vetoed that idea, quickly by telling him that it was the situation and the fact that she had not eaten since early afternoon.
***
Turning his thoughts to their relationship, he pondered the possibility that he had been wrong to keep it a secret from her, after all Violet had encouraged him to be truthful with her. Their relationship was considerably more complicated than any relationship-friend or otherwise, he had ever experienced. It wasn't that Parker wasn't his friend. There was just so much more. She had had some unresolved feelings of ambivalence toward him regarding the death of Thomas, yet when she had absolved him of any responsibility in his death, Jarod knew then that their relationship had changed. And for the better. He knew how he felt about her. Here. Today. Violet had been right, he shouldn't tippytoe around it. Never mind the emotional baggage related to their past- the truth was, he felt complete when with her.
***
Parker lay sleepless in the bed, she felt trapped. Violet's passing had brought forth unwanted memories of the loss of her mother and Thomas and the grief that accompanied those memories. Then there was the argument that she had had with Jarod. An argument that she provoked, hoping to push him away, she accused him of lying. And everything after that went wrong, instead of walking away, he kissed her. Now those faceless dreams of feathery kisses and warm touchs were replaced with Jarod. Pushing those thoughts aside, she twisted over to her side and closed her eyes, trying to find sleep, but ten minutes later she was twisting back the other way, eyes wide open again.
She sighed and sat up. What she needed was some fresh air. Quietly, so as not to alert Jarod, who was busy in the small room off the bedroom, she turned the quilt back and fumbled in the dark for the bathrobe that rested on the chair by the bed. Reaching the balcony door, she slide it open, feeling the cold air hit her. The rain and wind had died shortly after Violet had. The clouds now scudded across the night sky, leaving enough moonlight to break through for her to see the Caer. Leaning her hands on the ironwrought handrail, she stared intently at the colossal rock monstrosity. As far back as she could remember, castles and such had always intrigued her as a child, and yet something about this one made her feel threatened. The fear of what lurked around the corners or was hidden in the dark shadows caused the infantile chattering inside her head to increase.
"Parker?" his voice was soft and low. She didn't need to turn around to see his face, along with the concern and worry that would be written there. "Come inside, where it's warm." She glanced at him.
"It's full of hatred and evil," she murmured turning back.
"What is, Parker?" Jarod looked out at the scene in front of him," The Caer? Do you remember going there before the accident?"
"I think so. . .oh, hell, I don't know." She brought a hand up to her forehead, her eyes closing." He doesn't always make sense."
"The voices?" he asked.
"Voice, and he's been babbling constantly, ever since the accident. Violet told me to listen to him. To trust him. "
"Ethan, perhaps. You can trust him."
"No, it's not Ethan," she said with a shake, and she seemed relieved to be sharing the burden at last.
"Then who?"
"I wish I knew," she frowned as the lightheadedness of earlier returned, her body swaying slightly, that Jarod had his arm around her waist to steady her against him.
"You need to rest. By the way, you still haven't eaten, have you, Parker?" Jarod asked as he tightened his grip around her waist and his calm confident stride left no doubt that he knew exactly where they were headed. "You're stuck with me, so don't even try and pick a fight, got it."
***
Broots went pale, when he saw Mr. Lyle along with Mr. Cox enter the tech room, his fingers flying across the keyboard panel. Swallowing hard, he tried to moisten a mouth that had suddenly gone dry and pasty.
"Mr. Lyle. Mr. Cox. Can I help you?"
Mr. Cox's brows furrowed slightly.
"Perhaps some news about the return of our missing pretender?" Cox said, as Broots stared at him for a disbelieving moment.
"Yes, sir," with a weak nod and his fingers skipped across his keyboard. Broots peered at the monitor's screen, please at what he saw. "Seems that Major Charles, the boy, and Jarod were spotted . . . ."
"Where?" Lyle demanded, his brow twitching.
"Cuernavaca," Broots replied as he turned the monitor around for the two men to view the message on the screen.
"That sounds familiar to me, Mr. Broots?" Mr. Cox said, leaning over the monitor.
"Jarod was there a few years ago, perhaps you read it in reports that Miss Parker and I have submitted." The two men turned to find Sydney standing behind them in the doorway. He waited a few moments for a reply. When none came, he continued. " Jarod must have thought that his father and the boy would be safe there from Centre sweepers."
"Perhaps," Mr. Cox murmured as he glanced at the computer techie, who returned the stare even though his knees were knocking together under the desk. Lyle pulled his cell phone from inside his suitcoat pocket and with a quick flip it was opened. His finger stabbed a single number on the green illuminated number pad before placing the receiver to his ear.
"Have the jet ready for Cuernavaca, immediately," snapping the phone shut, he looked at Cox," You coming?"
Cox looked at Lyle, his jaw tightening at the suggestion, his expression made it clear that he'd rather not, but he could not think of an alternative plan and Mr. Parker had made it clear that he stay with Lyle. Cox hated the fact that he was being used as a glorified babysitter but Lyle's choices for allies lately had nearly ended with Mr. Parker's death. What was it Mr. Parker had called him, the responsible one.
"Of course I'm coming." The two men scuttled out of the room, leaving the other two alone.
"God, Syd that was too close," Broots said as he stood up from his chair, wiping the faint line of sweat from his forehead.
"We have a bigger problem than sending Lyle and Mr. Cox on unproductive side trips, Broots," Sydney whispered.
"We do?" Broots quiered.
"Yes, we do. Miss Parker was in an accident."
"Is she alright?"
"Physically, yes . . . ."
"I hear a but coming at the end of that sentence, don't I?"
"Amnesia, the last four months, blank," Sydney replied, nodding.
"You're not serious. No, no, this isn't happening," Broots started to pace, then stopped and looked again at Sydney," This is happening, isn't it?"
"Yes and even though there is nothing that we can do from here about it, we had best be prepared for the worst case scenrio. In the meantime, someone made a request of your computer skills in searching the Centre's mainframe."
"What am I searching for?"
"Not what, who. Someone by the name of Lachlan Abbott."
***
When the seatbeat sign blinked out overhead, Ethan pulled the duffel bag out from underneath the seat in front of him and rummaged through it, and finally located the item he was seeking. An album full of photographs. He had gone back to his foster-parent's home, the voices in is head telling to go and yet he was unsure of what he would find. It was laying there in the shrubs, it's brown paper wrapping damp and the writting smeared and bled. It he could just make a first name in the return address---Edna. He found himself going through it, when one of the pictures, a group shot with the names of the participants inscribed on the back as well as the photographer's name embossed in gold on the front. Two couples and a lone woman stood in front of an ornate iron-wrought gate, unfortunately the photograph was faded, and the writing too small to read it clearly, but he knew two. His mother. And the other was none other than Mr. Raines. The voice, which had been quiet until now, began to murmured in his head.
"Truth behind the gate!"
