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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer in Part 1
The Truth Hurts
Part 18
by Shannon
The sky was overcast and there was a brisk breeze blowing. It caught wisps of Parker's hair, as she sat in the lounge chair on the lower deck, staring out at the sea, lost in thought. The wind freshened, shifted a few degrees, and Ethan breathed deeply of the brisk air, as he stepped out on the upper deck watching his sister below. He allowed himself a sigh as he swept his gaze around him, his eyes then returning to his sister. Less than reassured at the sight, she appeared somewhat frail and not entirely well, her face pinched and white. Ethan found himself thinking that perhaps he should try and contact Jarod. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he was joined by the cottage's caretaker, who nodded somewhat distractedly. Alasdair Ross was a tall, slender man, with long grey hair pulled taunt in a ponytail, a wide grin under a pencil-thin mustache, and eyes of velvet night.
"There be a storm brewin'. I be going into town, cana git ye anythin.'"
"I've made a list," Ethan said softly, his eyes still locked on Parker, as he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, removing the crumpled sheet of white paper.
"Tis done. So ye be the bairn." Alasdair's statement startled Ethan, his features showing this. "Catie sent a letter, tellin' me what she be needin'. She made mention of a cradle. It be right odd, I was thinking but me wife, Lilias, she unnerstood. When Catie dinna arrive, she put evr'thing in the attic. Still be there, except Catie's letters, they be somewhere safe. Lilias fretted for Catie. She''ll be right shocked to see Catie's bairns when she returns. Funeral she had. Her sister, Violet, rest her soul. She was late gitten to Inverness, I be ailin,' she tended me first. I'll be 'eaden to town, then."
***
Parker watched as the gray sky, darkened, the clouds thickening, the crests showing whitecaps on the building waves. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, her eyelids closing, someone dragging her exhausted mind toward something. Drawing a deep breath, she sought a calm point and then an image appeared before her mind's eye: a solemn, dark-eyed child. Her son. With body and mind now bending to the will of her gift, she slowly found herself drifting.
"Remember. Past pain, truth."
"I can't. There's nothing but darkness."
"Look again." A flash of silvery light caught her attention. "There."
Parker turned her attention toward the light, but felt the shade of moving darkness permeate around her. Cold as winter. The darkness struck at the fragile silver lifeline. A blast of hatred hit Parker causing the images to spin dizzily around her, and they left her gasping for breath, heart pounding. The memories came flooding back to her, paralyzing her and pinning her to the stiff wood of the chair.
Reaching around she caught a handful of the tartan wool rug and pulled it around her, with it came the scent of roses, so unmistakable that it caused her to look sharply around, half-expecting to see.... Just for a moment the pain returned, the twisting ache of being alone. Memories stirring nonetheless, she crushed the armful of tartan to her face and merely breathed deeply of its perfume. Unbidden came the memory of a man quietly and astutely remarking," Apart we're incomplete, together we're one. You know that I'm right, even your dreams tell you that."
A faint smile lingered on her lips when, after a few seconds she folded the rug somewhat clumsily and laid it on the arm of the chair, letting her hand rest there as she reluctantly dragged herself back to the first memory-----the woman.
"Ethan!" Parker called out, as she pulled herself out of the chair, her legs a bit shaky.
Ethan's gaze shifted to the older man, his hand coming to rest on the gnarled one, his dark eyes narrowing.
***
"Beware of she who's named for the island across the sea. She's not to be trusted." Ethan said with a wary smile to Alasdair.
"Gifted wit' yer mother's gift, lad are ye? Be the lass?" Alasdair inclined his head toward Miss Parker.
"Yes," Ethan stated," Excuse me, but she needs me."
***
The first thing that Sydney noticed when he entered the Centre and opened his door to his Sim lab was that he wasn't alone.
"Broots?" he called out.
"I'm in here, Syd."
Sighing, Sydney locked the door behind him. He'd come in hoping to catch up on some reports. He needed to stay busy. He walked into the room that housed the latest computer equipment and found Broots busy downloading confidential files from the Centre's European satellite office.
"I found something....something big, Syd." Broots's fingers danced over the keyboard. "Lachlan Abbott's file."
"And?" Sydney stared over his shoulder at the screen. Broots had hacked his way into the mainframe and was reading the bio of Lachlan Abbott.
"This is like something out of a James Bond movie, Syd!" Sydney watched Broots shudder at the thought.
"Explain?" Sydney queried.
"Abbott was no ordinary photographer, Syd. He was British military and intelligence, first with the Special Air Service, then with MI6. But you want to know what's really spooky about this is when..." Broots whispered.
"When?"
"The date he died....April 15, 1970. Two days after ....."
"Catherine's supposed suicide," replied Sydney. " Where? And didn't the files you find say that he had a sister?"
"In Scotland, Caer Erract, in Inverness. Maggie Abbott. She went to school here in the States, the University of Maryland. Studied at the school of medicine, graduated with high honors and took a position with Incept, a fertility clinic attached to the University. She was there for about five years and then....she dropped off the face of the earth. Perhaps the Centre tried to recruit her, and that's why her name's in the Centre's mainframe."
"Possible," Sydney responded.
***
Parker watched as Ethan ambled quickly down the stairs, reaching out to help steady her on her feet.
"He showed you how to get past the pain, didn't he?" Ethan inquired as their eyes locked on each other.
"Yes, but I still don't remember everything, it's mostly bits and pieces. What did Alasdair want? "
"He's going into town." Ethan looked away from his sister, a look of worry crossing his brow.
"Ethan, is there something wrong?"
"I warned him. Someone's looking for you."
"Jarod?" Parker replied but Ethan shook his head.
"No, it's not Jarod. He's lost focus though. Someone else is trying to confuse him."
"Margaret?" Parker responded.
Ethan nodded as he tried to listen to Cameron's ramblings.
"Oh God, and I left him alone...what the hell was I thinking."
"You weren't, Parker."
"I need to go back, Ethan."
"Not yet. It's not time. You're not ready, but soon."
That bitch was going to pay for everything, Parker thought for about the hundredth time, seething with suppressed fury. The clouds had finally covered the sun and the first droplets of rain started to fall, causing Parker and Ethan to race up the stairs and into the cozy warmth of the cottage's parlor. Parker settled herself into the rocking chair that Ethan had found her in earlier, and her eyes fell upon the photo album she'd found earlier. Reaching for the blue leather book, she pulled it into her lap, the voices of earlier beginning to chatter.
***
"What is it?" Ethan took a seat on the floor in front of his sister, and watched as she opened it to the page with the familiar photograph.
"It's mother's, a photo album." she said, her hand resting palm-side down on the photo. " I was looking at this picture when you found me earlier." A small dull throbbing began inside of her head, and she had to bring her hand up to her forehead, rubbing gently.
The small voice that Ethan had become familiar with over the last few days was suddenly very clear. "Mirage," it repeated over and over. Ethan scrambled quickly to his feet and grabbed for the duffel bag that he had dropped in the hallway. He returned to his spot, the red leather album in hand, and opened. The page on the left had no photo on it, but one could clearly tell that a photo had been secured by the residue of tape that had held it in place. The picture on the right was very familiar to him. It was the picture that had held his attention for hours on the flight here.
***
"Ethan....Ethan," his sister's voice broke through his thoughts, "What? Where?" Parker watched as her brother removed a brown paper envelope that was tucked inside, the duffle. He handed it to her, the writing still smeared but faintly legible.
"Edna?" Parker whispered, "but the picture. She couldn't have sent it, she was already dead."
"Raines, " their voices chimed together in unison.
"I need to call Sydney, but I can't use any of the phones here," Parker said, as she pushed herself up out of the rocking chair.
"Use mine," Ethan whispered softly.
***
Because of the time difference between Scotland and the eastern seaboard of the United States, it was the middle of the night when Sydney answered his cell phone.
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"Miss Parker?" Sydney, who seldom slept more that five hours a night, helped himself to coffee.
"Whom were you expecting?"
After a moment silence, Sydney spoke again.
"How are you? Jarod..." he paused, briefly, waiting for the tirade" he informed us about the accident and your memory loss. He was worried."
Her response brought a smile to Sydney's face.
"There's still a few gaps that need to be filled in but I don't think it will be much longer before those memories are back as well. I have some wonderful help in that department, believe me."
***
Jarod continued to stare at the woman that sat next to him, committing her face to his memory. It had been so long, that he needed to take this moment. He was so absorbed in this process that he missed the look of panic that crossed Margaret's features but briefly. Her eyes widened as they looked at the figure that was alighting from the train. It wasn't possible, not now. It was the one thing that she hadn't even taken into consideration. Lilias Ross, Violet's sister. It was bad enough that Violet had interfered in her own way but having Lilias here could prove disastrous to her plans.
"Jarod, let's go across the street for a cup of tea, and perhaps I can help you in your search for Catherine's daughter." Margaret cast a quick glance at Lilias before returning her gaze to her son. Standing, she reached for Jarod's hand and pulled him up, hoping that his tall frame would block her small one from Lilias's view. Staying in front of her son, they made their way across the street.
Lilias stood still in the middle of the train station's platform, her entire body thrumming. Something had set her on edge. Allowing her grey eyes to survey her surroundings, she was about to attribute the feelings to that of losing her older sister, but it was then that she caught the sudden movement of the couple sitting over by the ticket office. Her gaze fell upon the older woman, recognition dawning. Lilias was about to approach them when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Aunt Lil," Marley said as she allowed herself to be embraced by the older woman and yet Lilias' eyes never left that of Margaret and Jarod. "Ye came."
"Lil' lambie, ye didna think I wouldn't, did ye?" Lilias smiled at her grandniece but inside the foreboding of earlier still lingering. "Come along wit'' me now, lass. I need to settle in."
Alasdair pulled the old truck into the parking spot in front of McGregor's. Alasdair was so busy reading his lists as he made his way to the door that he didn't hear the shrilly voice call after him until his hand was on the brass knob.
"Alasdair Ross, it be wonderful to see ye out and about. Last I heard, you be feelin' poorly."
Alasdair turned and looked into the dark eyes of Erin Gordon. Holding the door to the shop open, he allowed her to enter before him.
"I be right fine, Erin," Alasdair replied slowly, "Wee cold, be all. Lilias fixed me right up 'fore she left for Inverness."
"Aye, her sister passed. I be right sorry to 'ear that." Erin played with a stray strand of red hair that had caressed her cheek. "So ye be alone up there at Kinlock Inn wit' Lilias in Inverness. Perhaps ye would like company for dinner."
Alasdair's eyes narrowed. He knew the rumors that surrounded this woman regarding her husband. Those in the village and surrounding countryside believed that this red-haired woman was in some way responsible for Payne Gordon's death. Unfortunately the constabulary couldn't prove anything, other than the brake line had been tampered with, and nothing pointed to her. It was as these thoughts crossed his mind, that another entered his head as well. 'Beware of she, who's named for the island across the sea, she's not to be trusted.'
The Truth Hurts
Part 18
by Shannon
The sky was overcast and there was a brisk breeze blowing. It caught wisps of Parker's hair, as she sat in the lounge chair on the lower deck, staring out at the sea, lost in thought. The wind freshened, shifted a few degrees, and Ethan breathed deeply of the brisk air, as he stepped out on the upper deck watching his sister below. He allowed himself a sigh as he swept his gaze around him, his eyes then returning to his sister. Less than reassured at the sight, she appeared somewhat frail and not entirely well, her face pinched and white. Ethan found himself thinking that perhaps he should try and contact Jarod. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he was joined by the cottage's caretaker, who nodded somewhat distractedly. Alasdair Ross was a tall, slender man, with long grey hair pulled taunt in a ponytail, a wide grin under a pencil-thin mustache, and eyes of velvet night.
"There be a storm brewin'. I be going into town, cana git ye anythin.'"
"I've made a list," Ethan said softly, his eyes still locked on Parker, as he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, removing the crumpled sheet of white paper.
"Tis done. So ye be the bairn." Alasdair's statement startled Ethan, his features showing this. "Catie sent a letter, tellin' me what she be needin'. She made mention of a cradle. It be right odd, I was thinking but me wife, Lilias, she unnerstood. When Catie dinna arrive, she put evr'thing in the attic. Still be there, except Catie's letters, they be somewhere safe. Lilias fretted for Catie. She''ll be right shocked to see Catie's bairns when she returns. Funeral she had. Her sister, Violet, rest her soul. She was late gitten to Inverness, I be ailin,' she tended me first. I'll be 'eaden to town, then."
***
Parker watched as the gray sky, darkened, the clouds thickening, the crests showing whitecaps on the building waves. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, her eyelids closing, someone dragging her exhausted mind toward something. Drawing a deep breath, she sought a calm point and then an image appeared before her mind's eye: a solemn, dark-eyed child. Her son. With body and mind now bending to the will of her gift, she slowly found herself drifting.
"Remember. Past pain, truth."
"I can't. There's nothing but darkness."
"Look again." A flash of silvery light caught her attention. "There."
Parker turned her attention toward the light, but felt the shade of moving darkness permeate around her. Cold as winter. The darkness struck at the fragile silver lifeline. A blast of hatred hit Parker causing the images to spin dizzily around her, and they left her gasping for breath, heart pounding. The memories came flooding back to her, paralyzing her and pinning her to the stiff wood of the chair.
Reaching around she caught a handful of the tartan wool rug and pulled it around her, with it came the scent of roses, so unmistakable that it caused her to look sharply around, half-expecting to see.... Just for a moment the pain returned, the twisting ache of being alone. Memories stirring nonetheless, she crushed the armful of tartan to her face and merely breathed deeply of its perfume. Unbidden came the memory of a man quietly and astutely remarking," Apart we're incomplete, together we're one. You know that I'm right, even your dreams tell you that."
A faint smile lingered on her lips when, after a few seconds she folded the rug somewhat clumsily and laid it on the arm of the chair, letting her hand rest there as she reluctantly dragged herself back to the first memory-----the woman.
"Ethan!" Parker called out, as she pulled herself out of the chair, her legs a bit shaky.
Ethan's gaze shifted to the older man, his hand coming to rest on the gnarled one, his dark eyes narrowing.
***
"Beware of she who's named for the island across the sea. She's not to be trusted." Ethan said with a wary smile to Alasdair.
"Gifted wit' yer mother's gift, lad are ye? Be the lass?" Alasdair inclined his head toward Miss Parker.
"Yes," Ethan stated," Excuse me, but she needs me."
***
The first thing that Sydney noticed when he entered the Centre and opened his door to his Sim lab was that he wasn't alone.
"Broots?" he called out.
"I'm in here, Syd."
Sighing, Sydney locked the door behind him. He'd come in hoping to catch up on some reports. He needed to stay busy. He walked into the room that housed the latest computer equipment and found Broots busy downloading confidential files from the Centre's European satellite office.
"I found something....something big, Syd." Broots's fingers danced over the keyboard. "Lachlan Abbott's file."
"And?" Sydney stared over his shoulder at the screen. Broots had hacked his way into the mainframe and was reading the bio of Lachlan Abbott.
"This is like something out of a James Bond movie, Syd!" Sydney watched Broots shudder at the thought.
"Explain?" Sydney queried.
"Abbott was no ordinary photographer, Syd. He was British military and intelligence, first with the Special Air Service, then with MI6. But you want to know what's really spooky about this is when..." Broots whispered.
"When?"
"The date he died....April 15, 1970. Two days after ....."
"Catherine's supposed suicide," replied Sydney. " Where? And didn't the files you find say that he had a sister?"
"In Scotland, Caer Erract, in Inverness. Maggie Abbott. She went to school here in the States, the University of Maryland. Studied at the school of medicine, graduated with high honors and took a position with Incept, a fertility clinic attached to the University. She was there for about five years and then....she dropped off the face of the earth. Perhaps the Centre tried to recruit her, and that's why her name's in the Centre's mainframe."
"Possible," Sydney responded.
***
Parker watched as Ethan ambled quickly down the stairs, reaching out to help steady her on her feet.
"He showed you how to get past the pain, didn't he?" Ethan inquired as their eyes locked on each other.
"Yes, but I still don't remember everything, it's mostly bits and pieces. What did Alasdair want? "
"He's going into town." Ethan looked away from his sister, a look of worry crossing his brow.
"Ethan, is there something wrong?"
"I warned him. Someone's looking for you."
"Jarod?" Parker replied but Ethan shook his head.
"No, it's not Jarod. He's lost focus though. Someone else is trying to confuse him."
"Margaret?" Parker responded.
Ethan nodded as he tried to listen to Cameron's ramblings.
"Oh God, and I left him alone...what the hell was I thinking."
"You weren't, Parker."
"I need to go back, Ethan."
"Not yet. It's not time. You're not ready, but soon."
That bitch was going to pay for everything, Parker thought for about the hundredth time, seething with suppressed fury. The clouds had finally covered the sun and the first droplets of rain started to fall, causing Parker and Ethan to race up the stairs and into the cozy warmth of the cottage's parlor. Parker settled herself into the rocking chair that Ethan had found her in earlier, and her eyes fell upon the photo album she'd found earlier. Reaching for the blue leather book, she pulled it into her lap, the voices of earlier beginning to chatter.
***
"What is it?" Ethan took a seat on the floor in front of his sister, and watched as she opened it to the page with the familiar photograph.
"It's mother's, a photo album." she said, her hand resting palm-side down on the photo. " I was looking at this picture when you found me earlier." A small dull throbbing began inside of her head, and she had to bring her hand up to her forehead, rubbing gently.
The small voice that Ethan had become familiar with over the last few days was suddenly very clear. "Mirage," it repeated over and over. Ethan scrambled quickly to his feet and grabbed for the duffel bag that he had dropped in the hallway. He returned to his spot, the red leather album in hand, and opened. The page on the left had no photo on it, but one could clearly tell that a photo had been secured by the residue of tape that had held it in place. The picture on the right was very familiar to him. It was the picture that had held his attention for hours on the flight here.
***
"Ethan....Ethan," his sister's voice broke through his thoughts, "What? Where?" Parker watched as her brother removed a brown paper envelope that was tucked inside, the duffle. He handed it to her, the writing still smeared but faintly legible.
"Edna?" Parker whispered, "but the picture. She couldn't have sent it, she was already dead."
"Raines, " their voices chimed together in unison.
"I need to call Sydney, but I can't use any of the phones here," Parker said, as she pushed herself up out of the rocking chair.
"Use mine," Ethan whispered softly.
***
Because of the time difference between Scotland and the eastern seaboard of the United States, it was the middle of the night when Sydney answered his cell phone.
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"Miss Parker?" Sydney, who seldom slept more that five hours a night, helped himself to coffee.
"Whom were you expecting?"
After a moment silence, Sydney spoke again.
"How are you? Jarod..." he paused, briefly, waiting for the tirade" he informed us about the accident and your memory loss. He was worried."
Her response brought a smile to Sydney's face.
"There's still a few gaps that need to be filled in but I don't think it will be much longer before those memories are back as well. I have some wonderful help in that department, believe me."
***
Jarod continued to stare at the woman that sat next to him, committing her face to his memory. It had been so long, that he needed to take this moment. He was so absorbed in this process that he missed the look of panic that crossed Margaret's features but briefly. Her eyes widened as they looked at the figure that was alighting from the train. It wasn't possible, not now. It was the one thing that she hadn't even taken into consideration. Lilias Ross, Violet's sister. It was bad enough that Violet had interfered in her own way but having Lilias here could prove disastrous to her plans.
"Jarod, let's go across the street for a cup of tea, and perhaps I can help you in your search for Catherine's daughter." Margaret cast a quick glance at Lilias before returning her gaze to her son. Standing, she reached for Jarod's hand and pulled him up, hoping that his tall frame would block her small one from Lilias's view. Staying in front of her son, they made their way across the street.
Lilias stood still in the middle of the train station's platform, her entire body thrumming. Something had set her on edge. Allowing her grey eyes to survey her surroundings, she was about to attribute the feelings to that of losing her older sister, but it was then that she caught the sudden movement of the couple sitting over by the ticket office. Her gaze fell upon the older woman, recognition dawning. Lilias was about to approach them when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Aunt Lil," Marley said as she allowed herself to be embraced by the older woman and yet Lilias' eyes never left that of Margaret and Jarod. "Ye came."
"Lil' lambie, ye didna think I wouldn't, did ye?" Lilias smiled at her grandniece but inside the foreboding of earlier still lingering. "Come along wit'' me now, lass. I need to settle in."
Alasdair pulled the old truck into the parking spot in front of McGregor's. Alasdair was so busy reading his lists as he made his way to the door that he didn't hear the shrilly voice call after him until his hand was on the brass knob.
"Alasdair Ross, it be wonderful to see ye out and about. Last I heard, you be feelin' poorly."
Alasdair turned and looked into the dark eyes of Erin Gordon. Holding the door to the shop open, he allowed her to enter before him.
"I be right fine, Erin," Alasdair replied slowly, "Wee cold, be all. Lilias fixed me right up 'fore she left for Inverness."
"Aye, her sister passed. I be right sorry to 'ear that." Erin played with a stray strand of red hair that had caressed her cheek. "So ye be alone up there at Kinlock Inn wit' Lilias in Inverness. Perhaps ye would like company for dinner."
Alasdair's eyes narrowed. He knew the rumors that surrounded this woman regarding her husband. Those in the village and surrounding countryside believed that this red-haired woman was in some way responsible for Payne Gordon's death. Unfortunately the constabulary couldn't prove anything, other than the brake line had been tampered with, and nothing pointed to her. It was as these thoughts crossed his mind, that another entered his head as well. 'Beware of she, who's named for the island across the sea, she's not to be trusted.'
