The Pretender 2001: One triumvirate goon to another.

“Is it true that he was stolen as a child?”

No answer came forth from the Triumvirate representative, his discomfort at the question clear for all to see.

***********

End of episode – season 1

“Hello Jarod.”

Jarod stopped in his tracks. The man that had just cost him a meeting with his family stood in front of him. Raising the gun he had taken from the sweeper, he started to approach Raines.

“You stole me from my parents, you had the FBI kill my brother and now you’re trying to kill my family. What have I ever done to you?”

“You exist.”

***********

The Tower, 11:45

“What I had always wanted, Margie. The unquestionable obedience of my daughter.”

Margaret stared at her father in utter disbelief. After all the years of running and what he’d put her through, she was shocked that he could still expect her obedience. She was 60 years old, for heaven’s sake.

Complex emotions vied a brief war inside her. Pent-up frustration at her own perceived inabilities to have a say in her life and how it could’ve turned out fought for a place right next to her guilt that told her that this has always been her fault. For short periods of time during the past 30 years, she had allowed herself some respite from her search for the scrolls. During those times she had gone to the house in Charlevoix, hoping to connect again with her past. She could live in denial for a few minutes when she stepped into the ever increasing neglected house where they had stayed, the ghosts of her husband and children laughing in her memory. Later years she would sit on the dusty, cobwebbed floor that had been Jarod’s bedroom, imagining what he would look like; imagine his smile while trying not to think of that fateful night that had changed her life so completely. It had also been the place she gone to when she had found out about Kyle’s death. She had raged her hatred, screaming her sorrow at the skeleton walls that remained before sobbing uncontrollably when her hands were full of splinters and bleeding from repeated blows against the wooden walls. She had hated her life and for a brief moment had contemplated ending it but then calm had prevailed when she thought about Jarod, Emily and Charles.

Her life’s mess was attributed to one man. Her father had not only stolen her chance at happiness, but also that of her husband’s and her children. Despite her legacy and what her father had tried to install in her for years before she left him, she had still hoped – still prayed – that he would leave her alone.

Anger rose anew as she looked at him. If she had a gun she would’ve pulled the trigger without a second thought. She turned away from him to once again to stare out the window, as snow was blown against the window.

One of the sweepers’ cell phones broke the tense atmosphere that had started to develop and she heard his quiet responses. They had found Jarod. In a daze, she heard the sweeper relay the information to her father. Her hope was gone. The world outside seemed to mirror her feelings as a turbulent gust of wind blew another fresh flurry of snow against the window.

“It won’t be long now Margie, before you’ll be able to see your son.”

“I don’t want too.”

To her own ears she sounded like a petulant child that finally got her wish granted but in rebellion had decided that she didn’t want it anymore.

“I’m allowing you this one chance to see him, Margie. I suggest you take it. There won’t be another opportunity for you to see him after this.”

She turned from the window. Her eyes strayed to the lamp standing on the table near her. Her hand itched to reach for it as she wondered if she’d be able to get in at least one solid blow before the sweepers would be on her. Silently sighing, she moved across the room, away from the temptation to seat herself in one of the chairs. She wasn’t willing to risk Jarod’s wellbeing on a brief lack of control.

“What will happen to Catherine’s daughter?”

“She will take her rightful place in the Centre after some much needed re-education. Why the sudden interest in Miss Parker?”

Margaret ignored the question. Glancing at the clock that was bolted to the wall behind her father, she estimated that it wouldn’t be long before the sweepers would arrive with Jarod. Her son. Her father rose from the bed and made his way toward the window where she had been standing not so long ago. Watching the snow, he said, “I’m not a monster, Margie. All I ever wanted was the continued existence of my family. Sometimes sacrifices needed to be made in order for that to happen.”

“So you hunt me for 30 years while you imprison your grandson. How very noble of you. And what sacrifices did you make for you’re so called ‘legacy’?”

“I did what was necessary. Jarod has always been the key to everything.”

“If Jarod’s the key, why take Kyle. Was it to torment me further?” Margaret demanded.

“Kyle had been a bargain to keep Raines in check. He was not important to my plans but I needed him to make sure that Jarod’s life went the way it was predicted. Kyle’s death has prepared Jarod for this moment.”

Margaret clenched her hands at the callousness with which her father dismissed Kyle’s life.

“Jarod is not a chess piece. He’s a human being with feelings. He’s my son.” She uttered the last word quietly, knowing that it would mean nothing to her deranged father. That her words were useless.

“I’m well aware of who Jarod is. Even now he is fulfilling his destiny. His legacy. But he’ll find out soon enough that he’ll never be able to save Catherine’s daughter. That her destiny is inexorably linked to this moment. This…turning point is the culmination of years of guidance and Jarod will take up his inheritance without any compunction or weaknesses.”

“You’re insane if you think Jarod will do that.”

Her father turned from the window, his expression schooled into a caring half-smile. “Jarod will do what is asked of him. Just like the scrolls have predicted.”

***********

The Centre, SL – 10, 11:50

The insides of her eyelids burned orange, squeezed shut against the bright light. Her mother wasn’t there anymore and she felt the sorrow of that knowledge immediately. The feeling of emptiness tugged at her unconsciousness, lifting her towards painful waking.

She stirred uncomfortably, aware of heavy breathing that moved against her hair. Her cheek rested against someone’s chest and she could hear his heartbeat as it thudded against her ear. Her control slipped as she realised the limits of her own self-awareness. Her head felt too heavy as she tried to turn it away from its perch on the person’s chest; instead it lolled back into position.

The hands around her tightened perceptively and she gave a small gasp, uncertainty of who and where she was made panic claw its way up her throat, cutting off her breath.

She remembered Jarod going away, promising that he’d be back.

Lyle.

Her eyes shot open and she flinched away from the brilliant light, closing her eyes again at the onslaught of brightness. The industrial strength of the fluorescence gave her a brief clue that she was still somewhere in the sublevels.

“So you’re awake,” someone said, the voice rumbling against her ear, coming from the chest she was leaning against. “Thought with all your injuries you’d be unconscious for a while longer.”

Squinting against the glare of the light, she cracked open an eye and peered at the face that eclipsed them briefly.

She hadn’t been mistaken. She was in Lyle’s arms.

Shit. What happened?

She took a shallow breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. Her memory seemed shaky at best, not at all inducive to building her crumbling confidence. Lyle chuckled and it bubbled against her ear nauseatingly.

“Got to give it to you, Parker, you’ve got more spunk than I gave you credit for.”

Anger simmered as concern for Jarod flared. Just what the hell had happened?

“Where…,” she started to say, grimacing at the sound of her voice – dry and rough – “…are we going?”

Damn, she sounded like Raines.

“Re-education,” Lyle replied with glee, “and I’ll be your sponsor.”

“Peachy.” Great, she thought. Give the task to the guy who produced Alex. Not that she planned to be there long enough for Lyle to get a chance to ‘re-educate’ her.

“No need for that attitude, Sis.”

She snorted at his tone of disapproval. She surreptitiously tried to move her hands and feet, grimacing at her debilitating weakness when she realised that she had the strength of a new born baby. Lyle shifted her in his arms again and she had to suppress a moan before it could escape. She was suddenly aware of all her injuries and the pain hit her full force.

All her plans about not giving Lyle a chance to re-educate her came crashing down as she realised that in her current state she was no flight risk. There was no way she’d be able to make a run for it, without help. Lyle could do what he wanted and she’d be physically unable to protect herself.

A litany of swear words echoed around her head.

“Lyle, stop.”

Lyle paused at the sound of the voice and he gave a sigh of frustration. Footsteps echoed off the floor behind them as the person approached. They stopped a short distance away and Lyle turned, Miss Parker still secure in his hold.

“Anything I can do for you, Syd?” Lyle asked sarcastically, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

“I can’t let you take her.”

“Great time to develop a sense of conscience, Sydney. Now why don’t you just squash this little act of defiance and go back to your room. We’ll discuss this further after I’ve taken Miss Parker to her new room.”

Sydney gazed at Lyle, his features sombre and determined. He took his hand out of his jacket. Nestled in his hand was a small handgun, the shape unmistakeable in the light.

“I’m afraid that I’ll have to insist on you letting Miss Parker go, Lyle.”

“Okay,” Lyle shrugged and then unceremoniously dropped Miss Parker from his grip. Distracted by his concern for her, Sydney took his eyes off Lyle, as he automatically reached for her. .

A low moan escaped when she impacted with the floor and she instinctively curled up. There wasn’t one place on her entire body that didn’t hurt. She heard the sounds of a scuffle and then something heavy dropped and skidded across the floor. Her mind instinctively identified it as a gun. The next sound she heard was something she desperately hoped wasn’t the sound of Sydney’s head impacting with the wall. Whatever it was, the noise of fighting ceased.

She blinked her eyes frantically, trying to see through the hazy blur in front of her. Something inside her mind told her that she was in danger. Instinct or her mother – she wasn’t sure. The floor suddenly materialised in front of her as her vision returned full force. She stared at the barrel of a gun that lay just in front of her nose, less than a foot away.

Her hand curled around the gun just as Lyle stepped towards her.

Tbc