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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 IX
by Ashlee & Trisha
Sam walked down the halls of SL-16, his face steeled in the expression that he had been taught to wear in training, the expression that had kept him alive since his employment, here at the Centre. It revealed nothing of the anger, the hatred, and the vengeance that was gestating in his mind and soul. Hehad not only served Miss Parker, but he liked to think that he had become a trusted friend, someone that she could count on, someone that HE could count on. He sighed inwardly as he entered an abandoned office and sat down. He opened the drawer and pulled out something that he had hoped he would never have to use.
*****
Broots looked back at the front door, pure horror painted an almost translucent color on his features.
"Ah man… what do I do, what do I do ?"
The noise of one sweeper talking to another rang a deafening tone in his ears.
"On the count of three you knock down the door and I'll cover you. One…"
Broots looked around, panic gripping his heart and then realized where his hand was. He pushed open the door, ducked in and shut the door as quietly and quickly as he could, just as the front door was torn from it's hinges. He quickly locked the door and looked around for a place to hide. Only to realize that he didn't have that many options.
******
Jarod sat on the cot, trying not too let the worry bother him, but the not knowing was killing him. He kept telling himself that Parker was all right, that had she really died, he would have felt it. They had a bond that was unexplainable and ran deeper that either cared to admit. He sigh, resisting the urge to pull out the picture that Angelo had brought to him. Parker and the boy, his son, no their son. Looking at them together, one could not miss the resemblance. The same aura surrounded them, one of control and temperament. If they team up against me, he thought. Goner. He laughed, as an image of Parker, the boy and him wrestling on the hard wood floor of the cabin that had become like a home to him. At least for the holidays. Like that was ever going to happen, he thought, sadly. He lay in the cot, his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on some way of escaping. It was certainly obvious that Mutumbo had no intention of keeping his words. Riding in like the gallant knight to save the day, what a joke. He made a mess of it, that was for sure. He needed to get out, if he wanted to save his family.
***********************
The sweepers walked around the house searching for any sign of Miss Parker and the young boy, but found none. Their boss, Bart was under direct orders from Sam, his boss. Sam had informed him that the computer techie had gone to the house, find him, get him out of there and then leave the place alone. Spotting the door in the living room, Bart took up a position in front of it.
It was the only logical place Mr. Broots would be cowering.
Broots leaned against the door. He could hear the sweepers, through the heavy wooden door, but the sounds were muffled. He just might survive this. Taking in his surroundings, he realized that he was in Catherine's studio. The only furniture was that of a chaise lounge, table and a rather wondrous collection of memorabilia. Jarod's gifts to Miss Parker, he thought. Draped in the window seat, as if it had been wrapped around someone's shoulders earlier, was a blue and white handmade quilt. Walking over to it, he extended his fingers and took it up. Recognizing the pattern from one that Debbie's sitter had made, Broots pondered the meaning behind it. A Celtic love knot pattern, traditional bestowed on the wedding night, a symbol of everlasting love for all eternity. Hearing a voice at the door, Broots held his breath.
"Sir, there's no sign of the boy or Miss Parker. There's nothing to indicate that she was ever disloyal to the Centre until this evening."
Bart nodded.
"Head back to the Centre, report your findings to Sam. Then sweep her office, again. He knew that nothing would be found, for Sam had already checked, personally.
"Yes, sir! The door behind you sir?"
"I'm to take care of it personally, understood," he was harsh, but he needed to get his point across.
"Yes, sir."
The sweepers filed out of the house, leaving the rest of the house in a shambles, Bart watched from the window as the black town cars pulled away, an ink blot in a snowstorm.
Trying the knob, Bart find the door locked.
"Broots? Damn it man, I know you're in there. I'm here to get you out!"
Silence filled the room.
"Look it, I don't want to kick this door in either, but if you don't open it."
The door slowly swung open, Broots standing in the doorway hugging the quilt to his chest, looking as though he was about to die of fright.
"Come on Mr. Broots, out," he nearly dragged the man out of the room.
"But Dr. Green asked me to. . ."
"I'll personally take the rest of the items to him. Who do you think told Sam that you were here?"
"Okay, okay," Broots was grateful that Miss Parker instilled such loyalty in people. It was then that he spotted the bunny cage in the corner of the living room.
"I can't leave him alone," he draped the quilt over the cage and headed out the door, crossed the street, put the rabbit and its cage in the back seat. The snow was still falling and visibility was next to nothing but he was determined to make it home. Spying the bag that held Jarod's computer, he hoped that it held some answers. After all computers were his specialty, and this was one computer he'd like to crack. Turning on the radio for the latest weather report, Broots began to hum to the Christmas carol that was playing, The Gifts They Gave. He had to call Sydney as well. Later, once he was home, safe.
***********************************
The two that were incarcerated on SL-26, began to panic when the approach of footfalls on the cement floor signaled the first signs of life since either had been dumped in their respective cells.
Lyle's eyes flew open, panicked, then calmed himself. Coming to inform the lab rat that his sister was dead and her body was in the Centre morgue. Also that his creation was back in his cell, throwing temper tantrums. He laughed at that. He wished that he could see the expression on the pretender's face when told of his poor sister's demise. It was the click of his door, that wiped the wistful look off it.
Oh damn, was the only thought that registered, as Mutumbo and Raines entered his cell.
"Hello, Lyle," Mutumbo said, rather gleefully.
Lyle knew that was not a good sign. He felt his body shudder and not from the cold.
"Mutumbo," he replied, surprised at the calm in his voice,"Mr. Raines."
"Good day, Mr. Lyle," he stepped into the light.
Lyle had to fight the urge not to laugh, for Raines had on his happy blue suit, the one that he had on after returning from equatorial Africa.
"I must say that I am quite disappointed in your recent behavior. Your lack of charitable works toward the good of mankind, namely the triumvirate as caused us great pain. Therefore you have been selected for enlightenment."
"Nooooooooooooo," he yelled as the two sweepers that stood outside his door came in and hooked him by an arm.
"Really, Mr. Lyle, it's not that bad. Not that bad at all. I haven't felt this good in years," Raines voice was surprisingly reassuring.
The minute that Jarod had heard the approach of footsteps, a sense of dread had come over him. That Parker had been found and the boy back in this cesspool. Making his way to the small barred window, Jarod took pleasure in watching Lyle dragged out forcibly by two sweepers.
"Enjoy breathing, Lyle, at least for a while."
"This isn't over, not yet, Jarod! I'll be back and when I am, he's mine," he yelled as he was forced on to the awaiting elevator.
"Not while I'm breathing," Jarod whispered, not wanting to incur the wrath of either Mutumbo or Raines, who had emerged from Lyle's former home. Releasing the bars of the window, that he had been gripping, he threw himself on to the cot. As his door opened, he turned to look at the imposing figure that stood there as nonchalantly as possible. In reality, he was analyzing a way out of his cell. Looking for some possible means of escape. None seemed to reveal itself. He had considered the airducts briefly, but on this level, they unscrewed from the inside. Seemed that they didn't want to make the same mistake, again. He would have to wait for Angelo, if he attempted to use the air vent. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, listening to Mutumbo, halfheartedly. That is until he felt the presence of someone else in the small room. Opening one eye, Raines.
Damn it, he thought, silently. Forrest Gump had something there when he said stupid is as stupid does.
*************************************
Ryan lay nestled next to Miss Parker, his eyes heavy with sleep, yet he didn't want to succumb. Unfortunately, the power of sleep was stronger than his will to protect her.
It was Margaret and the Major that found them, together, sleeping peacefully.
"Her fever, as well as her dreams, seem to have abated since he crawled in with her," Margaret spoke softly, in the dimly lite room.
"Let him stay. After all she is his mother," the major said, turning to leave, worry still readable on his features over the disappearance of his oldest child.
"Dad, Jake just received some information on the website," Emily said, as he alighted from the staircase.
"Jarod!" his features starting to relax.
"No, it wasn't from Jarod. It was from Angelo. He transferred all of Miss Parker's files from the Centre to us. Then erased any trace of the download from the Centre's database. Dad, she's known about this place from the start."
"But how? We were so sure it was well hidden."
"That's just it. She use to own it. She came here with her mother as a little girl. That's why they never found it. Any paper trail to this place is gone. In other words, this place doesn't exist."
"She's been protecting us all this time," Emily spoke, as she sank slowly onto the sofa," And I thought..."
"Em, don't be so hard on yourself. Just wait until Jarod finds out," Jake couldn't help but grin," And he thought he was such a genius."
The major looked at his youngest son and chuckled, slightly before sobering again.
"Any news on Jarod?"
"Yes, but you won't like it
"What about Jarod?" the voice was that of their mother's.
"He turned himself in to protect. . ."
"Damn, damn, damn. Son of a . . ." the expletives flew from the Major's lips.
"Charles, calm down," Margaret wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"That's so him, thinking with his heart, again, he's going soft in the head."
"Charles, stop it. You know that he loves Morgana and nothing is going to change that," Margaret said, softly, that only Charles heard her.
"Nooooo," the voice was soft and came from the figure that stood on the stairs. It was Emily that got to her first, just as her legs collapsed from under her.
"Miss Parker, you shouldn't be out of bed," the Major admonished her.
"Bad dreams," she whispered as he picked her up in to his arms.
"You've had a fever, dear. Let's get you back under the covers."
"Ryan," panic crossed her pale features. As they reached the top of the stairs, a two year old tornado came whirling out of the room, clearly agitated.
"Miss Par. , " he stopped, short as he saw the Major bringing her back into the bedroom.
"You shouldn't get out of bed," the toddler said as he resumed his place, he had just vacated, smiling that smile that reminded her of him.
"Ryan, baby," she whispered as she placed a hand on his cheek.
"Rest," Margaret started to say but stopped following to where the woman's eye's had gone.
"This is his room," she said, watching the other woman nod.
"Whose room?" the boy asked, curiosity written on his small features.
"A friend, baby. A very special friend," she replied to his question.
"Your friend?" he asked, looking at her, as she nodded," Do you think he'd be my friend too?"
The Major and Margaret tried not to laugh but could not help but let a small chuckle escape their lips.
"He'll be your friend and so much more, now its bedtime for everyone. It's very late," Margaret pulled the coverlet up around mother and son. Her eyes twinkling, yet a tinge of regret filled them as well.
"He'll find a way to get home," Parker murmured, taking hold of her hand, before closing her eyes.
Margaret walked to the window and looked out, seeing nothing but snow swirling around. I hope so, Morgana, I hope so.
*****************
Sydney found the cardboard box on his desk, with a note from Sam. Lifting the lid, he found the crystal angel, but it was the stainglass window of Miss Parker that drew his attention. Running his finger around the edges of where the heart should be, he sank into the leather chair, and felt warm tears fall from his eyes. Should have tried harder, that inner voice said. Should have protected her. She had more guts than you ever did, the voice mocked. She risked her life to protect her, what a fool you are? Closing his eyes, he sank into a troubled sleep.
The Gift
part IX
by Ashlee & Trisha
Sam walked down the halls of SL-16, his face steeled in the expression that he had been taught to wear in training, the expression that had kept him alive since his employment, here at the Centre. It revealed nothing of the anger, the hatred, and the vengeance that was gestating in his mind and soul. Hehad not only served Miss Parker, but he liked to think that he had become a trusted friend, someone that she could count on, someone that HE could count on. He sighed inwardly as he entered an abandoned office and sat down. He opened the drawer and pulled out something that he had hoped he would never have to use.
*****
Broots looked back at the front door, pure horror painted an almost translucent color on his features.
"Ah man… what do I do, what do I do ?"
The noise of one sweeper talking to another rang a deafening tone in his ears.
"On the count of three you knock down the door and I'll cover you. One…"
Broots looked around, panic gripping his heart and then realized where his hand was. He pushed open the door, ducked in and shut the door as quietly and quickly as he could, just as the front door was torn from it's hinges. He quickly locked the door and looked around for a place to hide. Only to realize that he didn't have that many options.
******
Jarod sat on the cot, trying not too let the worry bother him, but the not knowing was killing him. He kept telling himself that Parker was all right, that had she really died, he would have felt it. They had a bond that was unexplainable and ran deeper that either cared to admit. He sigh, resisting the urge to pull out the picture that Angelo had brought to him. Parker and the boy, his son, no their son. Looking at them together, one could not miss the resemblance. The same aura surrounded them, one of control and temperament. If they team up against me, he thought. Goner. He laughed, as an image of Parker, the boy and him wrestling on the hard wood floor of the cabin that had become like a home to him. At least for the holidays. Like that was ever going to happen, he thought, sadly. He lay in the cot, his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on some way of escaping. It was certainly obvious that Mutumbo had no intention of keeping his words. Riding in like the gallant knight to save the day, what a joke. He made a mess of it, that was for sure. He needed to get out, if he wanted to save his family.
***********************
The sweepers walked around the house searching for any sign of Miss Parker and the young boy, but found none. Their boss, Bart was under direct orders from Sam, his boss. Sam had informed him that the computer techie had gone to the house, find him, get him out of there and then leave the place alone. Spotting the door in the living room, Bart took up a position in front of it.
It was the only logical place Mr. Broots would be cowering.
Broots leaned against the door. He could hear the sweepers, through the heavy wooden door, but the sounds were muffled. He just might survive this. Taking in his surroundings, he realized that he was in Catherine's studio. The only furniture was that of a chaise lounge, table and a rather wondrous collection of memorabilia. Jarod's gifts to Miss Parker, he thought. Draped in the window seat, as if it had been wrapped around someone's shoulders earlier, was a blue and white handmade quilt. Walking over to it, he extended his fingers and took it up. Recognizing the pattern from one that Debbie's sitter had made, Broots pondered the meaning behind it. A Celtic love knot pattern, traditional bestowed on the wedding night, a symbol of everlasting love for all eternity. Hearing a voice at the door, Broots held his breath.
"Sir, there's no sign of the boy or Miss Parker. There's nothing to indicate that she was ever disloyal to the Centre until this evening."
Bart nodded.
"Head back to the Centre, report your findings to Sam. Then sweep her office, again. He knew that nothing would be found, for Sam had already checked, personally.
"Yes, sir! The door behind you sir?"
"I'm to take care of it personally, understood," he was harsh, but he needed to get his point across.
"Yes, sir."
The sweepers filed out of the house, leaving the rest of the house in a shambles, Bart watched from the window as the black town cars pulled away, an ink blot in a snowstorm.
Trying the knob, Bart find the door locked.
"Broots? Damn it man, I know you're in there. I'm here to get you out!"
Silence filled the room.
"Look it, I don't want to kick this door in either, but if you don't open it."
The door slowly swung open, Broots standing in the doorway hugging the quilt to his chest, looking as though he was about to die of fright.
"Come on Mr. Broots, out," he nearly dragged the man out of the room.
"But Dr. Green asked me to. . ."
"I'll personally take the rest of the items to him. Who do you think told Sam that you were here?"
"Okay, okay," Broots was grateful that Miss Parker instilled such loyalty in people. It was then that he spotted the bunny cage in the corner of the living room.
"I can't leave him alone," he draped the quilt over the cage and headed out the door, crossed the street, put the rabbit and its cage in the back seat. The snow was still falling and visibility was next to nothing but he was determined to make it home. Spying the bag that held Jarod's computer, he hoped that it held some answers. After all computers were his specialty, and this was one computer he'd like to crack. Turning on the radio for the latest weather report, Broots began to hum to the Christmas carol that was playing, The Gifts They Gave. He had to call Sydney as well. Later, once he was home, safe.
***********************************
The two that were incarcerated on SL-26, began to panic when the approach of footfalls on the cement floor signaled the first signs of life since either had been dumped in their respective cells.
Lyle's eyes flew open, panicked, then calmed himself. Coming to inform the lab rat that his sister was dead and her body was in the Centre morgue. Also that his creation was back in his cell, throwing temper tantrums. He laughed at that. He wished that he could see the expression on the pretender's face when told of his poor sister's demise. It was the click of his door, that wiped the wistful look off it.
Oh damn, was the only thought that registered, as Mutumbo and Raines entered his cell.
"Hello, Lyle," Mutumbo said, rather gleefully.
Lyle knew that was not a good sign. He felt his body shudder and not from the cold.
"Mutumbo," he replied, surprised at the calm in his voice,"Mr. Raines."
"Good day, Mr. Lyle," he stepped into the light.
Lyle had to fight the urge not to laugh, for Raines had on his happy blue suit, the one that he had on after returning from equatorial Africa.
"I must say that I am quite disappointed in your recent behavior. Your lack of charitable works toward the good of mankind, namely the triumvirate as caused us great pain. Therefore you have been selected for enlightenment."
"Nooooooooooooo," he yelled as the two sweepers that stood outside his door came in and hooked him by an arm.
"Really, Mr. Lyle, it's not that bad. Not that bad at all. I haven't felt this good in years," Raines voice was surprisingly reassuring.
The minute that Jarod had heard the approach of footsteps, a sense of dread had come over him. That Parker had been found and the boy back in this cesspool. Making his way to the small barred window, Jarod took pleasure in watching Lyle dragged out forcibly by two sweepers.
"Enjoy breathing, Lyle, at least for a while."
"This isn't over, not yet, Jarod! I'll be back and when I am, he's mine," he yelled as he was forced on to the awaiting elevator.
"Not while I'm breathing," Jarod whispered, not wanting to incur the wrath of either Mutumbo or Raines, who had emerged from Lyle's former home. Releasing the bars of the window, that he had been gripping, he threw himself on to the cot. As his door opened, he turned to look at the imposing figure that stood there as nonchalantly as possible. In reality, he was analyzing a way out of his cell. Looking for some possible means of escape. None seemed to reveal itself. He had considered the airducts briefly, but on this level, they unscrewed from the inside. Seemed that they didn't want to make the same mistake, again. He would have to wait for Angelo, if he attempted to use the air vent. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, listening to Mutumbo, halfheartedly. That is until he felt the presence of someone else in the small room. Opening one eye, Raines.
Damn it, he thought, silently. Forrest Gump had something there when he said stupid is as stupid does.
*************************************
Ryan lay nestled next to Miss Parker, his eyes heavy with sleep, yet he didn't want to succumb. Unfortunately, the power of sleep was stronger than his will to protect her.
It was Margaret and the Major that found them, together, sleeping peacefully.
"Her fever, as well as her dreams, seem to have abated since he crawled in with her," Margaret spoke softly, in the dimly lite room.
"Let him stay. After all she is his mother," the major said, turning to leave, worry still readable on his features over the disappearance of his oldest child.
"Dad, Jake just received some information on the website," Emily said, as he alighted from the staircase.
"Jarod!" his features starting to relax.
"No, it wasn't from Jarod. It was from Angelo. He transferred all of Miss Parker's files from the Centre to us. Then erased any trace of the download from the Centre's database. Dad, she's known about this place from the start."
"But how? We were so sure it was well hidden."
"That's just it. She use to own it. She came here with her mother as a little girl. That's why they never found it. Any paper trail to this place is gone. In other words, this place doesn't exist."
"She's been protecting us all this time," Emily spoke, as she sank slowly onto the sofa," And I thought..."
"Em, don't be so hard on yourself. Just wait until Jarod finds out," Jake couldn't help but grin," And he thought he was such a genius."
The major looked at his youngest son and chuckled, slightly before sobering again.
"Any news on Jarod?"
"Yes, but you won't like it
"What about Jarod?" the voice was that of their mother's.
"He turned himself in to protect. . ."
"Damn, damn, damn. Son of a . . ." the expletives flew from the Major's lips.
"Charles, calm down," Margaret wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"That's so him, thinking with his heart, again, he's going soft in the head."
"Charles, stop it. You know that he loves Morgana and nothing is going to change that," Margaret said, softly, that only Charles heard her.
"Nooooo," the voice was soft and came from the figure that stood on the stairs. It was Emily that got to her first, just as her legs collapsed from under her.
"Miss Parker, you shouldn't be out of bed," the Major admonished her.
"Bad dreams," she whispered as he picked her up in to his arms.
"You've had a fever, dear. Let's get you back under the covers."
"Ryan," panic crossed her pale features. As they reached the top of the stairs, a two year old tornado came whirling out of the room, clearly agitated.
"Miss Par. , " he stopped, short as he saw the Major bringing her back into the bedroom.
"You shouldn't get out of bed," the toddler said as he resumed his place, he had just vacated, smiling that smile that reminded her of him.
"Ryan, baby," she whispered as she placed a hand on his cheek.
"Rest," Margaret started to say but stopped following to where the woman's eye's had gone.
"This is his room," she said, watching the other woman nod.
"Whose room?" the boy asked, curiosity written on his small features.
"A friend, baby. A very special friend," she replied to his question.
"Your friend?" he asked, looking at her, as she nodded," Do you think he'd be my friend too?"
The Major and Margaret tried not to laugh but could not help but let a small chuckle escape their lips.
"He'll be your friend and so much more, now its bedtime for everyone. It's very late," Margaret pulled the coverlet up around mother and son. Her eyes twinkling, yet a tinge of regret filled them as well.
"He'll find a way to get home," Parker murmured, taking hold of her hand, before closing her eyes.
Margaret walked to the window and looked out, seeing nothing but snow swirling around. I hope so, Morgana, I hope so.
*****************
Sydney found the cardboard box on his desk, with a note from Sam. Lifting the lid, he found the crystal angel, but it was the stainglass window of Miss Parker that drew his attention. Running his finger around the edges of where the heart should be, he sank into the leather chair, and felt warm tears fall from his eyes. Should have tried harder, that inner voice said. Should have protected her. She had more guts than you ever did, the voice mocked. She risked her life to protect her, what a fool you are? Closing his eyes, he sank into a troubled sleep.
