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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
The Gift
part XII
Michele & Shannon
with a little help from NR Levy & Trisha
Sydney entered the elevator, tossing a brief backward glance toward Mr.Parker, who had paused a moment in the corridor with a look of curious confusion.
"Mr. Parker?"
"Coming," the man replied as he entered the elevator, waiting for the doors to close.
"Ummm. . .How's the plans for my Angel's service coming?"
"Fine," Sydney looked at the man through half closed eyes, not wanting him to read the hatred that burned deep inside him. He had to get to Jarod, hopefully it wasn't to late. Parker was right about one thing, if Jarod felt that he had nothing left, he would shut down, and revenge would overtake his soul. He wasn't about to let that happen. The elevator stopped and the doors hissed open, the corridor was dimly light, yet he could make out the shapes of two sweepers at the door.
"Sir," the one snapped at attention," He's still thrashing about. Bart's with him but it doesn't seem to matter much."
"Sydney, I leave this in your capable hands, do what you think is necessary. Calm him down, any way you can," Mr. Parker said calmly. Opening the door to the darkened room, Sydney stepped in and scanned the room. All it took was a subtle motion of his eyes and Jarod was rising off the floor, and making his way to the plexiglass door, toward him.
"Betrayed," he whispered, hoarsely," Why?"
"I need to go inside," Sydney said to the older man next to him, waiting for him to open the security door. He watched as Mr. Parker placed his hand on the computer screen, a click of the latch told him that he could enter, turning around he looked the former chairman in the eyes," Leave us. Bart can stay, if I need help."
"Fine, just calm him down, before he hurts himself."
Jarod heard the rustle of the door parting, felt a cool draft of air, then saw Sydney's tall silhouette as he stepped through the opening.
"Jarod," he whispered," Talk to me."
He stumbled closer to where his mentor stood, his feet tangled by his haste and a fear so strong it weakened his knees.
"No," he searched the man's face for some sign of compassion. Jarod shut his eyes. This simple act should have allowed him to slip into SIM mode, but today the skill eluded him. He struggled to submerge himself and failed. He took a deep breath.
He was haunted by memories of the dead.
"Ryan is dead. My son is dead," he looked Sydney in the eyes. It was then that Sydney noticed the dilated pupils. Reaching out to Jarod, Sydney gripped the younger man's hands. They were warm to the touch and on one he noticed a scratch, which was puffy, red and extremely enflamed.
"Bart," Sydney called out to the sweeper," Who visited Jarod last?"
"I'm not sure Dr. Green. I'll go check with the others," Bart replied and left the room for a moment, leaving the door unattended.
"Jarod, look at me," Sydney cupped the man's chin, looking him in the eyes, hoping that what he was about to impart would take root in his drug induced haze and eventually sink in," Jarod, Miss Parker and Ryan. . .are not. . ."
"Dead," he cried, and sank to his knees, taking the doctor with him. Sydney placed his hand into his pocket, removing a small blue tablet. He pushed it between Jarod's lips and gripped the man's chin refusing to let go, all the while looking into the dark anguish filled eyes.
"No, Jarod, No."
The pretender looked at the doctor trying to comprehend what was being said to him, it was at that moment that he noticed the open door. Making his way to it, his body tired and pushed beyond its limits, yet if he could get out, he could find the one person that deserved death more than his son and Parker. At the same time that Jarod crossed the threshold, Bart re-entered. Drawing his gun, he aimed it at the pretender, ordering him to stop. When Jarod ignored him and continued to move forward, Bart fired. The noise alerted the other sweepers, stationed outside.
"He tried to escape," Bart said, as Sydney stooped next to the body, his eyes filled with remorse and anguish.
"He's dead," the doctor said softly, as he felt for a pulse on the neck of the body, the blanket which covered the body was stained with a deep crimson.
"Go get me a gurney," Bart told the two sweepers, and he watched them leave the room in a hurry, only to return moments later with the gurney," Go on, I'll take it from here. He'll be in the morgue, inform Sam, so that he can tell Mr. Parker. The two sweepers watched as the men lifted the body onto the gurney, then pushed it down the corridor to the elevator. The two sweepers then headed for the former chairman's office in search of his new personal sweeper.
The two men entered the elevator, the gurney between them, the blanket drawn up around the body.
"How is he?"
"Drugged. Who was the last to visit?"
"Brigitte," the sweeper said, bitterness dripping off his voice," Will the sleeping pill you gave, effect him adversely?"
"No, I was afraid that something like this would happen. It'll just put him to sleep, he doesn't understands. He's not processing the information, properly, his emotions are heightened, to the point that that's all he's feeling," the doctor bent down and pulled the sheet away, " He doesn't have a clue."
The phrase rattled around in his brain, fuzz yet fimiliar. He tried to remember why that phrase should call forth an image of Miss Parker. Doesn't have a clue, about what he thought, before he drifted off to sleep.
"How do you plan on getting him out of here?" Sydney inquired of the sweeper.
"You leave that to Sam and me, Dr. Green," the sweeper said impassivly as the elevator doors hissed open, revealing a dark, long corridor lit only by tiny lights recessed in the concrete walls every three feet. They gave the corridor a rather ghostly feeling, and why shouldn't it, this after all was the morgue. The bowels of hell. Wheeling the gurney toward the door at the far end of the corridor, Bart watched furitively as he got closer. Suddenly the door swung open revealing a darkened shadow. Sydney cringed slightly, afraid that they had been discovered,only to breath deeply when Sam stepped forward out of the shadows.
"We don't have alot of time," Sam said as he hoisted Jarod's sleeping form over his shoulder. Heading for a double door located on the left side of the room, Bart followed quickly opening it. Sydney exhaled deeply as he saw has car backed up to the loading ramp and watched as the sweepers placed Jarod's body in the back seat.
"There's going to be a slight accident in about five minutes," Sam said, looking at the doctor," There won't be any survivors down here. I'm really sorry about that, but maybe we will meet again in a different life time. Tell Miss Parker that being dead as a lot of advantages. Now get in the car and drive. Don't look back!"
"Sam, Bart." Sydney tried to thank them, but he was pushed out the door, and watched as the door closed. Sliding in the car, Syd found the keys already in the ignition, he eased the car out of the underground garage, and grateful that this part of the Centre was located back behind the loading docks, hidden by transporters and tractor-trailers. The snow was beginning to fall, heavily than earlier, Sydney stopped, when he felt a tinge of regret. He'd forgotten all about Angelo. Cursing softly to himself, he debated on going back, when he heard a soft voice from the back seat of the car.
"Friend need both."
"Angelo," a smile beginning to form. The season of miracles, perhaps theirs just happened. It was at that moment that the back of the building exploded and then erupted into flames. No one noticed the car that pulled away, heading away from the Centre, for all the guards where running in the direction of the flames that seemed to leap and dance in jubilation.
*****
Parker stirred in the bed, her legs thrashed beneath the sheets until she kicked off her covers entirely. The loss of warmth and a nagging agitation prodded her up through the layers of unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open for only a second. Fighting against the impulse to wake, she buried her head deeper into the pillow. This nap was no luxury. She did not want to wake, but somewhere in the other side of consciousness there came an insistent demand for her to wake. Her name was repeated over and over again until she grew weary of resisting and opened her eyes.
"You sleep deeply, Miss Parker," said the man who knelt before her. The lines of the Major's face were marshalled into an impassive mask, but his voice was full of concern, and his eyes mirrored the same.
"I was dreaming," she said, as the memory started to fade.
"You where calling for Jarod, Miss Parker," the Major looked her in the eyes and smiled, tenderly.
"Any news?" she pulled herself into a sitting position, taking a deep breath as she did so.
"No, but Broots and Debbie are on the outskirts of the town and should be here before night fall. Hopefully before the storm hits," the Major informed her as he glanced out the window.
"Where's Ryan?" she glanced at the empty spaced next to her.
"He decided to check out the snow," the Major chuckled, remembering the sight that greet them when they looked out the front window, to see the two year old standing almost chest deep in the snow.
"He'll catch a cold," she struggled to get out of the bed, worry written on her face. The Major gently placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back onto the pillows.
"He's getting a bath, and some warm clothes. Granted everything is a bit big on the little mite, but Margaret knows how to handle it. She did it with Jarod and Kyle. I asked Broots to bring some things for the both of you, but Emily says that you two can share as well."
At that moment, the door to the bedroom burst open and a flush-faced, wet haired little boy, dressed in a forest green sweatshirt that was much to big, scrambled on to the bed.
"Mommy, did you have a nice nap? I don't like naps. . .but I like the snow," his brown eyes wide with awe," Mommy, do you like the snow? Does my daddy like the snow? When is he going to get here?"
Parker closed her eyes, and tried to figure out the best way to tell him that his father was. . .how do you explain that his father sacrificied his freedom for their's.
"Ryan," the voice was that of the Major's," your daddy loved the snow, when he was little. He would go outside and dig for hours, building a snow fort. We could never find him, it had so many rooms and tunnels to hide in.'
"Do you like the snow?" he asked again, as he stood on the bed, his
little face looking into Parker's blue eyes, waiting eagerly for her answer.
"Yes, baby. I like the snow," she said wrapping him in her arms and kissing his nose," but no more going outside with out the right clothes on. You'll get sick."
"That's what Grandma said, after she kissed me too," he laughed, as his little hand patted Parker's cheek," He's very smart, you know."
"Who is?"
"My daddy. He'll get here soon," he looked away momentarily and then turned back, and asked," Mommy, what's Christmas?"
Parker looked over at the Major, then back at the big brown eyes filled with curiosity. Strange that he could understand concepts that most adults would struggle with but it was the everyday common place ideas that boggled his little mind. She had spent the better half of the morning telling Ryan about his father and that the Major and Margaret were his grandparents, that Emily and Jake, his aunt and uncle. Once satisfied with her explanation, Ryan demanded that she rest.
"So you want to know about Christmas," Miss Parker said softly, when suddenly Jake stood in the doorway, carrying a tray of mugs and a plate of cookies.
"Who wants to know about Christmas?" he asked, placing the tray across Miss Parker's lap. Ryan's eyes grew wide, as he peered into the mugs.
"What's that?" he asked as he poked a finger into it, touching the mini marshmallows, then licking it," Mmmmmmm!"
"It's hot chocolate, baby?" Miss Parker smiled, as she watched him examine a cookie.
"It's a grandpa cookie," he stated as he continued to stare at it. The others chuckled softly.
"No, Ryan. It's Santa Claus," Jake said as he walked over to the bookshelf that was located next to the bed, reaching up on the top shelf, he removed a book with a white dustcover," Here, your daddy gave this to me, a long time ago and now I;m giving it to you. It's all about Christmas." Little hands eagerly grasped the big book and he cooed at the cover of the man that was similiar to his cookie.
"Can we read it, Mommy? Can we?" he looked up into her blue eyes, a hot chocolate mustache above his lip. Parker reached down and wiped the chocolate off his face with her thumb, returning his smile.
"Yes, baby. We can read it," she then turned to Jake," Thank you!"
"I'm glad I could help, at least a little."
*****
Broots finished filling the tank of his car, while Debbie sat in the front seat, impatiently waiting for them to get moving. She had asked a million questions regarding their destination. The doll that Jarod had given to Miss Parker sat in front of her, still wrapped in it's angel paper and silver and gold bows. The quilt was folded and next to Debbie. The bunny was in the backseat in it's cage busy nibbling on a carrot. Hanging the pump back in the holder, Broots ran into the store, paying cash for the gas and purchased some groceries for the two of them.
"Ready?" he said as he slide behind the wheel.
"Dad, I've been ready for a long time. Can I ask you a question?" she turned and looked at her father, "And get a truthful answer."
"What?" he nearly choked on his water, god he sounded like Miss Parker.
"Are you done working for that place?" Debbie asked, trying not to laugh at her father's use of Miss Parker's favorite word.
"Why do you ask?'
"Come on dad, that place is . . .I don't know exactly but its not a good place to work. Is it? I mean Miss Parker carries a gun and so do most of the others. Any place that requires it's employees to carry guns and no badges, can not be a good place to work."
"Seriously, Deb. It's not the greatest place but at the time I had to support both of us and well. . .It was . . ." the man shook his head, unable to finish.
"Is Miss Parker going to go back?"
"No," he whispered," Debbie, there's something that you need to know. When we get to where we are going, there's going to be a little boy there. I mean little. His name's, Ryan and he's Miss Parker's son."
"Wait a minute! She had a baby! Dad, do I look stupid? I know that she was never.."
Broots held his hand up to silence her, then continued to explain the whole story to his daughter. She sat and listened to all that was done to her friend in the name of power and control.
"I was kind of wondering why we bought clothes for a little boy," she replied," I know that we need to get there before the storm but it's Christmas in one week and well . . ."
"Presents. Sure but not long. I want to get there before its to dark," Broots said as he pulled the car in the parking lot of the small plaza that was on the left of them. After spending the next hour and half, the twosome left laden down with bags and boxes.
"Thanks, Dad," she said as she wrapped herself in the quilt and closed her eyes as Broots headed North to the cabin and the only other friend he had in the entire world beside Sydney. Once at the cabin, he would contact the doctor and see what was happening at the Centre.
part XII
Michele & Shannon
with a little help from NR Levy & Trisha
Sydney entered the elevator, tossing a brief backward glance toward Mr.Parker, who had paused a moment in the corridor with a look of curious confusion.
"Mr. Parker?"
"Coming," the man replied as he entered the elevator, waiting for the doors to close.
"Ummm. . .How's the plans for my Angel's service coming?"
"Fine," Sydney looked at the man through half closed eyes, not wanting him to read the hatred that burned deep inside him. He had to get to Jarod, hopefully it wasn't to late. Parker was right about one thing, if Jarod felt that he had nothing left, he would shut down, and revenge would overtake his soul. He wasn't about to let that happen. The elevator stopped and the doors hissed open, the corridor was dimly light, yet he could make out the shapes of two sweepers at the door.
"Sir," the one snapped at attention," He's still thrashing about. Bart's with him but it doesn't seem to matter much."
"Sydney, I leave this in your capable hands, do what you think is necessary. Calm him down, any way you can," Mr. Parker said calmly. Opening the door to the darkened room, Sydney stepped in and scanned the room. All it took was a subtle motion of his eyes and Jarod was rising off the floor, and making his way to the plexiglass door, toward him.
"Betrayed," he whispered, hoarsely," Why?"
"I need to go inside," Sydney said to the older man next to him, waiting for him to open the security door. He watched as Mr. Parker placed his hand on the computer screen, a click of the latch told him that he could enter, turning around he looked the former chairman in the eyes," Leave us. Bart can stay, if I need help."
"Fine, just calm him down, before he hurts himself."
Jarod heard the rustle of the door parting, felt a cool draft of air, then saw Sydney's tall silhouette as he stepped through the opening.
"Jarod," he whispered," Talk to me."
He stumbled closer to where his mentor stood, his feet tangled by his haste and a fear so strong it weakened his knees.
"No," he searched the man's face for some sign of compassion. Jarod shut his eyes. This simple act should have allowed him to slip into SIM mode, but today the skill eluded him. He struggled to submerge himself and failed. He took a deep breath.
He was haunted by memories of the dead.
"Ryan is dead. My son is dead," he looked Sydney in the eyes. It was then that Sydney noticed the dilated pupils. Reaching out to Jarod, Sydney gripped the younger man's hands. They were warm to the touch and on one he noticed a scratch, which was puffy, red and extremely enflamed.
"Bart," Sydney called out to the sweeper," Who visited Jarod last?"
"I'm not sure Dr. Green. I'll go check with the others," Bart replied and left the room for a moment, leaving the door unattended.
"Jarod, look at me," Sydney cupped the man's chin, looking him in the eyes, hoping that what he was about to impart would take root in his drug induced haze and eventually sink in," Jarod, Miss Parker and Ryan. . .are not. . ."
"Dead," he cried, and sank to his knees, taking the doctor with him. Sydney placed his hand into his pocket, removing a small blue tablet. He pushed it between Jarod's lips and gripped the man's chin refusing to let go, all the while looking into the dark anguish filled eyes.
"No, Jarod, No."
The pretender looked at the doctor trying to comprehend what was being said to him, it was at that moment that he noticed the open door. Making his way to it, his body tired and pushed beyond its limits, yet if he could get out, he could find the one person that deserved death more than his son and Parker. At the same time that Jarod crossed the threshold, Bart re-entered. Drawing his gun, he aimed it at the pretender, ordering him to stop. When Jarod ignored him and continued to move forward, Bart fired. The noise alerted the other sweepers, stationed outside.
"He tried to escape," Bart said, as Sydney stooped next to the body, his eyes filled with remorse and anguish.
"He's dead," the doctor said softly, as he felt for a pulse on the neck of the body, the blanket which covered the body was stained with a deep crimson.
"Go get me a gurney," Bart told the two sweepers, and he watched them leave the room in a hurry, only to return moments later with the gurney," Go on, I'll take it from here. He'll be in the morgue, inform Sam, so that he can tell Mr. Parker. The two sweepers watched as the men lifted the body onto the gurney, then pushed it down the corridor to the elevator. The two sweepers then headed for the former chairman's office in search of his new personal sweeper.
The two men entered the elevator, the gurney between them, the blanket drawn up around the body.
"How is he?"
"Drugged. Who was the last to visit?"
"Brigitte," the sweeper said, bitterness dripping off his voice," Will the sleeping pill you gave, effect him adversely?"
"No, I was afraid that something like this would happen. It'll just put him to sleep, he doesn't understands. He's not processing the information, properly, his emotions are heightened, to the point that that's all he's feeling," the doctor bent down and pulled the sheet away, " He doesn't have a clue."
The phrase rattled around in his brain, fuzz yet fimiliar. He tried to remember why that phrase should call forth an image of Miss Parker. Doesn't have a clue, about what he thought, before he drifted off to sleep.
"How do you plan on getting him out of here?" Sydney inquired of the sweeper.
"You leave that to Sam and me, Dr. Green," the sweeper said impassivly as the elevator doors hissed open, revealing a dark, long corridor lit only by tiny lights recessed in the concrete walls every three feet. They gave the corridor a rather ghostly feeling, and why shouldn't it, this after all was the morgue. The bowels of hell. Wheeling the gurney toward the door at the far end of the corridor, Bart watched furitively as he got closer. Suddenly the door swung open revealing a darkened shadow. Sydney cringed slightly, afraid that they had been discovered,only to breath deeply when Sam stepped forward out of the shadows.
"We don't have alot of time," Sam said as he hoisted Jarod's sleeping form over his shoulder. Heading for a double door located on the left side of the room, Bart followed quickly opening it. Sydney exhaled deeply as he saw has car backed up to the loading ramp and watched as the sweepers placed Jarod's body in the back seat.
"There's going to be a slight accident in about five minutes," Sam said, looking at the doctor," There won't be any survivors down here. I'm really sorry about that, but maybe we will meet again in a different life time. Tell Miss Parker that being dead as a lot of advantages. Now get in the car and drive. Don't look back!"
"Sam, Bart." Sydney tried to thank them, but he was pushed out the door, and watched as the door closed. Sliding in the car, Syd found the keys already in the ignition, he eased the car out of the underground garage, and grateful that this part of the Centre was located back behind the loading docks, hidden by transporters and tractor-trailers. The snow was beginning to fall, heavily than earlier, Sydney stopped, when he felt a tinge of regret. He'd forgotten all about Angelo. Cursing softly to himself, he debated on going back, when he heard a soft voice from the back seat of the car.
"Friend need both."
"Angelo," a smile beginning to form. The season of miracles, perhaps theirs just happened. It was at that moment that the back of the building exploded and then erupted into flames. No one noticed the car that pulled away, heading away from the Centre, for all the guards where running in the direction of the flames that seemed to leap and dance in jubilation.
*****
Parker stirred in the bed, her legs thrashed beneath the sheets until she kicked off her covers entirely. The loss of warmth and a nagging agitation prodded her up through the layers of unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open for only a second. Fighting against the impulse to wake, she buried her head deeper into the pillow. This nap was no luxury. She did not want to wake, but somewhere in the other side of consciousness there came an insistent demand for her to wake. Her name was repeated over and over again until she grew weary of resisting and opened her eyes.
"You sleep deeply, Miss Parker," said the man who knelt before her. The lines of the Major's face were marshalled into an impassive mask, but his voice was full of concern, and his eyes mirrored the same.
"I was dreaming," she said, as the memory started to fade.
"You where calling for Jarod, Miss Parker," the Major looked her in the eyes and smiled, tenderly.
"Any news?" she pulled herself into a sitting position, taking a deep breath as she did so.
"No, but Broots and Debbie are on the outskirts of the town and should be here before night fall. Hopefully before the storm hits," the Major informed her as he glanced out the window.
"Where's Ryan?" she glanced at the empty spaced next to her.
"He decided to check out the snow," the Major chuckled, remembering the sight that greet them when they looked out the front window, to see the two year old standing almost chest deep in the snow.
"He'll catch a cold," she struggled to get out of the bed, worry written on her face. The Major gently placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back onto the pillows.
"He's getting a bath, and some warm clothes. Granted everything is a bit big on the little mite, but Margaret knows how to handle it. She did it with Jarod and Kyle. I asked Broots to bring some things for the both of you, but Emily says that you two can share as well."
At that moment, the door to the bedroom burst open and a flush-faced, wet haired little boy, dressed in a forest green sweatshirt that was much to big, scrambled on to the bed.
"Mommy, did you have a nice nap? I don't like naps. . .but I like the snow," his brown eyes wide with awe," Mommy, do you like the snow? Does my daddy like the snow? When is he going to get here?"
Parker closed her eyes, and tried to figure out the best way to tell him that his father was. . .how do you explain that his father sacrificied his freedom for their's.
"Ryan," the voice was that of the Major's," your daddy loved the snow, when he was little. He would go outside and dig for hours, building a snow fort. We could never find him, it had so many rooms and tunnels to hide in.'
"Do you like the snow?" he asked again, as he stood on the bed, his
little face looking into Parker's blue eyes, waiting eagerly for her answer.
"Yes, baby. I like the snow," she said wrapping him in her arms and kissing his nose," but no more going outside with out the right clothes on. You'll get sick."
"That's what Grandma said, after she kissed me too," he laughed, as his little hand patted Parker's cheek," He's very smart, you know."
"Who is?"
"My daddy. He'll get here soon," he looked away momentarily and then turned back, and asked," Mommy, what's Christmas?"
Parker looked over at the Major, then back at the big brown eyes filled with curiosity. Strange that he could understand concepts that most adults would struggle with but it was the everyday common place ideas that boggled his little mind. She had spent the better half of the morning telling Ryan about his father and that the Major and Margaret were his grandparents, that Emily and Jake, his aunt and uncle. Once satisfied with her explanation, Ryan demanded that she rest.
"So you want to know about Christmas," Miss Parker said softly, when suddenly Jake stood in the doorway, carrying a tray of mugs and a plate of cookies.
"Who wants to know about Christmas?" he asked, placing the tray across Miss Parker's lap. Ryan's eyes grew wide, as he peered into the mugs.
"What's that?" he asked as he poked a finger into it, touching the mini marshmallows, then licking it," Mmmmmmm!"
"It's hot chocolate, baby?" Miss Parker smiled, as she watched him examine a cookie.
"It's a grandpa cookie," he stated as he continued to stare at it. The others chuckled softly.
"No, Ryan. It's Santa Claus," Jake said as he walked over to the bookshelf that was located next to the bed, reaching up on the top shelf, he removed a book with a white dustcover," Here, your daddy gave this to me, a long time ago and now I;m giving it to you. It's all about Christmas." Little hands eagerly grasped the big book and he cooed at the cover of the man that was similiar to his cookie.
"Can we read it, Mommy? Can we?" he looked up into her blue eyes, a hot chocolate mustache above his lip. Parker reached down and wiped the chocolate off his face with her thumb, returning his smile.
"Yes, baby. We can read it," she then turned to Jake," Thank you!"
"I'm glad I could help, at least a little."
*****
Broots finished filling the tank of his car, while Debbie sat in the front seat, impatiently waiting for them to get moving. She had asked a million questions regarding their destination. The doll that Jarod had given to Miss Parker sat in front of her, still wrapped in it's angel paper and silver and gold bows. The quilt was folded and next to Debbie. The bunny was in the backseat in it's cage busy nibbling on a carrot. Hanging the pump back in the holder, Broots ran into the store, paying cash for the gas and purchased some groceries for the two of them.
"Ready?" he said as he slide behind the wheel.
"Dad, I've been ready for a long time. Can I ask you a question?" she turned and looked at her father, "And get a truthful answer."
"What?" he nearly choked on his water, god he sounded like Miss Parker.
"Are you done working for that place?" Debbie asked, trying not to laugh at her father's use of Miss Parker's favorite word.
"Why do you ask?'
"Come on dad, that place is . . .I don't know exactly but its not a good place to work. Is it? I mean Miss Parker carries a gun and so do most of the others. Any place that requires it's employees to carry guns and no badges, can not be a good place to work."
"Seriously, Deb. It's not the greatest place but at the time I had to support both of us and well. . .It was . . ." the man shook his head, unable to finish.
"Is Miss Parker going to go back?"
"No," he whispered," Debbie, there's something that you need to know. When we get to where we are going, there's going to be a little boy there. I mean little. His name's, Ryan and he's Miss Parker's son."
"Wait a minute! She had a baby! Dad, do I look stupid? I know that she was never.."
Broots held his hand up to silence her, then continued to explain the whole story to his daughter. She sat and listened to all that was done to her friend in the name of power and control.
"I was kind of wondering why we bought clothes for a little boy," she replied," I know that we need to get there before the storm but it's Christmas in one week and well . . ."
"Presents. Sure but not long. I want to get there before its to dark," Broots said as he pulled the car in the parking lot of the small plaza that was on the left of them. After spending the next hour and half, the twosome left laden down with bags and boxes.
"Thanks, Dad," she said as she wrapped herself in the quilt and closed her eyes as Broots headed North to the cabin and the only other friend he had in the entire world beside Sydney. Once at the cabin, he would contact the doctor and see what was happening at the Centre.
