It had been a couple of months since Lyle had been removed. Agent Byrnes had said no to killing him and had just transferred him somewhere else. Jarod had been so much happier and more relaxed now he was here permanently without Lyle harassing him. Her and Jarod had gotten closer over the few weeks, become good friends and she loved spending time with him. He had been non stop over wanting his photos and DSA's back, Tash being told DSA's were like mini DVD’s. Agent Byrnes had said yes he could go to the Centre, with Natasha with him and ten of their best agents to make sure they didn't try to keep Jarod there. Pulling up in front of the building, Tasha looked out the window, “Wow." Was all she could say.

Jarod looked at it and supposed it did look very impressive. It was the last place he wanted to be though. They had agreed to let him come, under heavy guard, which was ostensibly for his protection, but he knew it was also to stop him wandering off. “It wasn't often I ever got to see this view of it.” He said softly. Despite all the time passing, despite their protection, it gave him a bad feeling and he was not going back there, not ever. He had sworn that to himself once before and they had caught him and now he knew he wouldn’t survive if he had to go back again.

Taking his hand in hers. “We can turn back right now if you want. Jarod, you can find more photos I'm sure."

"There are no more," Jarod said wondering if Parker had destroyed them to spite him when he never returned. If she had hated him before, she was going to despise him now.

"Come on then. Straight in, straight out. No need to stay around. We have our agents to protect you if they tried to keep you here." Natasha tried to reassure him.

Jarod took a deep breath and steadied himself, unable to believe he would ever willingly walk through the front doors of this place again.

"Come on," Natasha pulled him out, the other agents surrounding them protectively.

He marched up there in the throng of suits, that could easily have been sweepers, his heart racing faster. This part of his life was over forever and he told himself he had nothing to fear here. Not even the Centre would be stupid enough to go to war with the US government. Still, it was a terrifying experience for him, all the old fears coming back to paralyse him.

Taking his hand tightly in hers, they marched up the steps and through the front doors, seeing everyone look at them and go quite. "Normal reception from you?" It was eerie to see a place this big go deadly silent as they all stared at Jarod.

“I guess I am a bit infamous around here. It isn’t too often I waltz in through the front doors."

Broots was scurrying across the lobby, hating the new boss here. He was so cold and cruel, he made Lyle look like a nice old granny who offered candy to the neighbourhood kids. When the whole lobby seem to go quiet, he looked up. Paling completely as he saw Jarod, he almost fainted. He was dead, wasn’t he? "Jarod? Jarod?!” He called before quieting as people looked at him, Broots rushed to him. “What are you doing here? My god, I mean, you're here. That’s impossible, isn’t it?” He rambled, looking around as the sweepers slowly started to close in on them

"Hello Mr Broots," Jarod smiled at him and his reaction. “I guess nothing is impossible, this is the Centre and I AM here after all, aren’t I?"

"No, you can't be here.” He whispered, looking as pale as a ghost. As the sweepers circled around Jarod, and the other men who looked like sweepers showed their badges and guns, the sweepers backed off but didn’t leave Jarod.

Jarod watched the sweepers back off a little and wondered if this wouldn't end in a shoot out. "Mr Broots, are you alright?" Jarod asked in concern, seeing how pale he was, his extreme reaction. He turned to Natasha. "This is Mr Broots, you have nothing to fear from him."

"So I can see. Think if I breathed on him he would fall over?" Tash asked in amusement. For a place with the Centre’s reputation, she hadn’t expected to find someone as meek and easily scared as this Mr Broots.

Looking around, “Y-you need to get out of the lobby before they notice you." Broots whispered, not sure how Sydney would take this. Even though he had hunted Jarod for many years, he respected the man a great deal. Even when he didn’t have to, shouldn’t have, he had helped Broots. "Jarod, you're dead!” He exclaimed in shock, still unable to believe his eyes.

“What?" Jarod asked him with a sharp intake of breath. He had imagined all kinds of reactions when Natasha had suggested coming here, played it out in his mind over and over again. That was not anything at all like he imagined.

Broots looked around frantically. “In m-my office.” He whispered, having been moved from the tech level to Miss Parker's old office. He thought it was punishment from the new chairperson because of his loyalty to her. He didn't mind though, it helped him remember her, her smell, her style, her feel.

“I have come to retrieve some things that belong to me Mr Broots, I am afraid I don't really have time to visit." Jarod tried to explain, disturbed by his comment. He didn’t know if it was a threat or they had been told that to account for his sudden disappearance. Well, nobody ever died at the Centre, so why should he?

"N-no, you have to come with me now before they see you. You have to now." Broots urged frantically.

“I think they have already seen me Mr Broots," Jarod whispered as if it was a big secret. Half the place seemed to be watching them and he bet the security feeds had already informed Parker that he was back. He was surprised her and Sydney weren’t here already.

“Y-you don't understand." Broots whispered, his eyes wide and frantic, looking all around.

"Let’s go Jarod, just to calm him down. The photos can wait for a few minutes. This is obviously important to him."

"Alright then," Jarod agreed, “We will have a talk Mr Broots." It seemed every time he saw Broots he somehow managed to terrify the poor man.

Walking quickly to his office, Miss Parker's old office, he didn't wait for Jarod or the sweepers to follow him in. He hadn’t changed a single thing, placing one or two of his own photos on the desk only.

Jarod followed him silently and when they got to Miss Parker's old office he frowned. “Why are we here?” He looked around at her office, which seemed to be heavy with her presence, despite her not being there.

"This is my new office, but Jarod. You're dead. I mean, we saw the photos of the explosion, we scattered your ashes. Jarod you are dead!” He said madly.

“What?” He asked more insistently. “What explosion?” He didn't know what was more confusing, Broots claiming Parker's office as his own or his claim that he was dead.

Natasha frowned. That wasn’t what happened at all. Looking at Jarod to the ashen man, she didn't believe it.

"Some explosion, killed you, Mr Lyle, two agents we were told. Even had some of his remains to DNA test. I did them myself." They really hadn’t gotten anything to conclusive from them, but there was just enough to math Jarod’s loosely.

"Lyle is dead?" Jarod asked, not understanding anything. He looked at Natasha. “What have they done?" All of a sudden it came to him what must have happened and anger filled him. More lies, always with the lies.

"No, I was told Lyle was transferred some where else." Tasha shook her head.

“If you don't know Mr Lyle is... oh my god... you don't know... ohhhhh Jarod..." Broots face crumpled suddenly, on the brink of tears.

“What Mr Broots what?" Jarod asked, looking at him fearfully, although he already suspected now, he just waited for the words to confirm what his heart was telling him.

"She’s gone.” He whispered, the tears falling, looking at Jarod miserably. “You were never told?"

"Never told what? Gone where?" Jarod asked in confusion, worry settling in his stomach though. His mind refusing to join the dots, refusing to accept what he already knew to be true.

"Gone, dead, buried. She died Jarod, her ulcer. It was too much for her, thinking it was her fault you were dead." Broots whispered, having to turn away from him, barely able to control himself.

“What?" Jarod asked in a whisper, the blood draining from his face as he struggled to stay standing.

Grabbing him as Jarod swayed a little, Tash walked him over to the leather couch and sat him down.

“It can't be," Jarod shook his head and looked up at Broots desperately.

“I'm sorry." Broots whispered miserably. "Poor Debbie, she is still crying about her. She is buried next to her mother Jarod. I see her everyday. I always bring her flowers. I want her to know we care. It’s not right that no one would go visit her now.”

Jarod's eyes filled with tears as he shook her head. "No,” He refused to accept it. “It cannot be."

"But it is Jarod.” Sydney said, standing in the doorway. He had heard the buzz spreading through the building that Jarod had returned from the dead and he had to come and see for himself. He had mourned terribly for Jarod and was still heartbroken over it when they had found Parker's body. Losing Jarod had almost killed him, but losing Parker as well had just proved to be too much. As he looked at his former protégé now though, there was nothing but a dull despair in his eyes.

Tash took his hand gently in hers, seeing how upset he was, wondering if the woman meant something to him. As far as Tash understood, she was the one who had been holding him here.

"Sydney," Broots whispered, wiping his tears away and rushing to him. "Come sit Sydney.” He whispered. He had been demanding Sydney retire, just go home and try to get better. Eventually Sydney had agreed. This was his last week. He was so much older now, the wear on him clearly evident.

"Sydney?" Jarod said numbly, staring at the old man, hardly able to recognize him, he seemed to have aged so much.

Sydney didn't move though, just stared at Jarod, not sure if he felt relieved or bitter, or a bit of both. “You are alive.” He stated the obvious.

"Of course I am alive, what is going on here?" Jarod asked, unable to accept what he had just been told.

Dragging Sydney over to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sat him down. Going to his laptop, his fingers flew over the keyboard and brought up the file they had been sent and the photos. Bringing the laptop to Jarod, he handed it over. “It’s all there." Dashing back to Sydney, he gave him a bottle of water.

Jarod looked through it numbly, shocked. Finally as the pieces fell into place, he looked at Natasha. "How could you do this? How could you not tell me?"

"Me?” She almost squeaked in surprise. “I didn't have anything to do with this. Yes I wanted Lyle dead, he was a bastard. But I never asked for them to say you were dead. I said you escaped, killed him, maybe an explosion as a way to escape. Not that you were dead."

“What did you do Jarod?” Sydney asked, an accusing tone in his voice.

“I, I... they asked me to stay.” He said, his voice almost not working as the emotions rampaged through him. Lyle was dead, Parker was dead, he couldn't believe it.

"And look at what you did!" Broots almost yelled, his emotions still so new. No one had really mourned Parker except for the very few. Mainly him, Sydney and his daughter, Debbie having gotten so upset at the start she couldn’t even go to school.

“I..." Jarod looked at Sydney hopelessly. “I didn't know Sydney, I swear I didn't know." Jarod defended himself dully. It was too much for him to take in right now, it couldn’t be true, it had to be some kind of Centre trick.

“You have your freedom now Jarod but when you cut that deal did you consider for one second at what price it would be?” Sydney asked him bluntly. Deep down he knew it wasn’t fair, that Jarod deserved a life, his freedom. It was just that her loss was a wound that was so fresh and so deep, the pain so raw that Sydney retreated into anger.

“Well maybe if you didn't treat him like a piece of meat and torment and hurt him so much, used his work to murder innocent people. If you made him feel like a real person here, maybe he wouldn’t have stayed with us." Tash defended. This wasn’t at all fair on Jarod. He did what was best for him, took the offer to get away from this torture building. He didn’t know anything about what these people had been told.

"Sydney I didn't know, please believe me,” He said, barely hearing her words. "They told me that they would insulate you from the Africans, they promised me." It was something that he had been absolutely adamant about. He wouldn’t even consider anything unless he knew there would be no reprisals from the Africans. He agreed to do all the work they would normally send to the Centre if the Africans had been taken care of.

“YOU killed her, not THEM!" Broots knew venting on Jarod was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

"No," Jarod whispered at the accusation. "No, I just wanted out, I didn't want her hurt. I made sure she would be protected, I made it a condition." Jarod defended himself weakly.

“We thought you were dead, she was so upset when he told her." Broots shook his head. “I have never seen her this upset, she was worse then she was when Tommy...” He trailed off. "She wasn’t sleeping, she was always drinking, even coming to work drunk. She was always angry and yelling and snapping. Her ulcer perforated because of the stress she was under, how upset she was because of YOU." Broots accused angrily, hurt through his eyes.

"No," Jarod said, completely devastated by this news. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. This was a new start for all of them, with Africa off their back they could take the Centre in any direction they had wanted. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Sydney watched him, too wrapped up in his own grief to be able to respond to Jarod's. He knew Jarod wanted out, but not if this was the price.

“Well it is. She is dead because of you. You and your selfishness." Broots whispered, incredibly hurt and upset over all of this.

“Wasn’t there another way Jarod?” Sydney asked him bitterly.

“I didn't know Sydney, I swear I didn't know.” He said softly, never having wanted this. Not this.

“You didn't even think about it before you faked your death and killed her? You are meant to be a genius, a pretender. Surely you would have known something like this could have happened.” Broots accused him.

“I didn't know, I never meant for this to happen,” He looked at Broots and then to Sydney. "Sydney, you have to believe me, I never wanted this."

“It doesn't change it though does it Jarod?” Sydney asked him. Even to his own ears his words sounded harsh and unnecessarily cruel.

“You should just go Jarod," Broots whispered miserably, “You have caused enough hurt here already."

Sydney was torn between wanting to talk to Jarod and his grief over Parker. He was angry with Jarod, angry with himself for not being able to prevent this. He knew what a blow this would be to Jarod, knew that he never would have wanted this. None of that changed how he felt though.

Standing next to Sydney who was sitting in the chair in front of the desk and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest Syd."

Sydney looked up at him and smiled. He had been so wonderful since the news of Jarod's apparent death, and then Parker's. “I am fine Broots,” He reassured him. “Why did you come Jarod?”

Not removing his hand from Sydney's shoulder, he looked at Jarod for an answer, wanting to get Sydney home to get some rest, very worried about him.

Tash gave his hand a squeeze, “It’s ok Jarod, go on and ask.” She whispered, feeling horrible about this.

“I wanted my things.” He said numbly, not taking his eyes off Sydney and how haggard he looked, the pain, the accusation in his eyes.

“You have no right Jarod, to come in and ask for a few little old photos, some Pez and clothes after what you have done." Broots whispered, shaking his head. This wasn’t fair on Jarod, Broots knew that, but couldn’t help venting on him.

"That is not up to us,” Sydney told him, “You will have to talk to the new Chair."

“Do you want me to go talk to the 'new chair' and you stay here with Mr Sydney and Mr Broots?" Tash suggested lightly.

Jarod just nodded dully, incapable of making a decision about anything right now as the shock set in.

Giving his head a kiss as Tash stood up, “It will be ok Jarod,” She whispered, nodding two agents to come up with her as a sweeper took her to the 'Tower' and the chair person.

Jarod sat there as the silence grew, not knowing what to say, not believing she could have died, that he didn't know, that it could be his fault.

Tash walked back into the office slowly, carrying the duffle bag, feeling the thick tension. “I have your things Jarod.” She whispered.

He looked up at her and nodded. "The DSA's?” He asked, clearing his throat when his voice wouldn’t work.

“I could not get them, I only just managed to get your photos and a few other things."

“Why don't you just take them and go Jarod?” Sydney asked him softly. His feelings so ambivalent right now he had no clue how he was supposed to feel. He could clearly see Jarod's pain, could see he had not known, yet, it was so hard for him to find any sympathy for Jarod at the moment.

Tasha offered Jarod her hand, wanting him to feel secure. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how this felt for him.

“It is clear you have moved on Jarod, this is no place for you now.” Sydney said, noticing the body language of the woman. If they weren’t sleeping together already, she wished they were, her sights clearly set on Jarod.

Sydney's words struck Jarod like blows and he finally came a little out of his stupor. “I want to see her."

Broots looked at Sydney, not sure Sydney would allow it. The poor man was nearly on his death bed, so completely gutted over this. Broots swore he had aged 20 years since they found out about Jarod's 'death'. If that wasn’t enough to make the older man heartbroken, they had then found Parker’s body in her house all alone and cold.

“You know where her mother's grave is, I am sure you can find your own way down.” Sydney said, not sure he could go down there with him.

"Sydney, maybe you should share this with him, start to heal. You always have gone on and on about healing, forgiving and everything else." Broots whispered.

There would be no healing for Sydney though, not now, not ever. "Very well,” He agreed, more for Broots sake than his own, or Jarod's, knowing how Broots worried about him. Broots had taken the news very badly and he had been a rock for Sydney.

“You don't have to," Broots whispered. “I just thought it might be good for you, you know, how upset you have been. I mean, we are all very upset about this, but you more than anyone else."

"Please Sydney," Jarod pleaded with him, needing him right now.

Broots looked up at Jarod, “Don't." Broots snapped, losing his control easily now days. “Don’t use that tone with him, don't ask him for anything. You did this. This is all YOUR fault. Sydney is more important to me and everyone than you will ever be. Don’t you dare ask for anything from Sydney after what you have done, what you have made Sydney go through.” His protectiveness normally shown for Debbie only was showing full force now, doubting Sydney could deal with much more.

Jarod blinked at him in surprise and ducked his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't know, I never meant for this to happen.” He whispered yet again.

"Just go Jarod, go visit her if you will, but just go.” Sydney told him, struggling to keep himself together now. He was so tired, so drained that even Jarod's resurrection from the dead wasn't enough to pull him out of his grief.

Tash looked at the old man to Jarod, knowing this will probably push Jarod further than Lyle ever did. She had been told about Sydney, and knew Sydney telling him to go away would devastate him. Jarod had told her Sydney raised him, protected him as best as he could. When he was out on the run, he nearly always turned to Sydney for help, comfort, an explanation on something he didn’t know. That he had always wanted Sydney’s approval, his love. Now he would never get any of that, the old man seemed to no longer want to even know Jarod.

Jarod nodded to himself, unable to find any words right now. He stood up dully, completely gutted as he looked from Broots to Sydney and nodded again. “I'm sorry,” He whispered one more time, moving woodenly to the door, leaving his things.

Broots knew how upset Jarod was and even though Broots was angry and hurt at Jarod, he knew how much of a blow this was to the kind man. Grabbing a photo of Parker from the desk, the one of her on the swing, laughing, in the summer dress, he moved to Jarod and gently touched his arm.

Tash picked up his bag and followed him, stepping aside as the not so nervous man came to Jarod.

Jarod stopped and looked at him. They weren’t friends, but he had always liked and respected Broots.

"Here, this is the nicest one of her." Broots whispered miserably.

Jarod took the frame, remembering her when she had been like this, when she had finally found some happiness. He touched the photo gently, his face crumpling as he fought the tears. This hurt even more than losing Kyle had and that was the most terrible experience he had ever had.

“I-I didn't mean to yell at you like that Jarod. She died because she was so depressed she didn't look after herself. It really isn’t your fault. You’re just someone we can take our hurt out on." Broots apologised, not looking at the man.

“I know Mr Broots," Jarod told him gently. “It was my fault though.” He said as he moved towards the doors. Sydney blamed him and he was right to. He blamed himself.

“I'm sorry, she cared for you Jarod, obviously she did for this to affect her so much. I'm sorry you lost her." Broots whispered, feeling very depressed and moved back to Sydney. Too bad though Miss Parker had never shown that she cared for him earlier. Maybe then if she had, none of this would have happened.

Jarod wasn't listening to him though, just moving dully out of the room, working totally on autopilot now.

When the door closed behind Jarod and the sweepers, Broots pulled the other chair up against Sydney's one and sat next to him. "Sydney?"

Sydney looked up at him slowly. "Jarod is alive,” He said, still trying to process that.

"He is Sydney. I don't care about him at the moment, I'm very worried about you. I think you should go home and get some sleep." Broots whispered in concern.

“I will,” Sydney promised. Although he barely slept at all anymore.

“Want me to drive you home? You’re in no condition to drive Sydney."

He didn't want to go there where all he had was his memories and thoughts, but he nodded. "Sure, thanks Broots.” Sydney looked up at Broots after a moment. “Do you think he sacrificed her for his freedom?” He asked with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

"No," Broots said with complete certainty, “If he knew she would die from this Sydney, I know he wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t risk her or anyone for his freedom." Broots whispered.

"Even for his freedom? His family?” Sydney whispered, looking at Broots as if he might have the answers. “He deserves his family Broots, he deserves his life, but not at this price.”

"He could have sacrificed her, you, anyone so many times before Sydney, and he never did. He fought for his freedom and family, to help people, to save people. He wouldn’t condemn one to death for him. He loved her Sydney." Broots whispered absolutely certain that if Jarod had known she would die, he wouldn’t have done this.

“I know he did,” Sydney nodded, tears filling his eyes. "And all she ever gave him was pain and derision. I wish Jarod could have known the real Parker.” He whispered.

"He did Sydney. He knew what she was really like, he knew she was really a caring person. He knew the little Miss Parker.” He whispered.

“I wish I could turn back the clock on all of it."

"So do I Sydney. I really miss her. She may have been mean to me, but I knew she did like me." Broots whispered.

"That was just her way Broots, she was very protective of you too.” Sydney told him tiredly.

“I know she was Sydney." Broots whispered. “It’s not too late to go to Jarod.” He said gently.

"No, just take me home please, there is nothing more to be said.” He had always put Jarod before her, but not this time.

Helping Sydney to his feet, wondering if the older man would regret this later, he walked him out and took him home.

Jarod rode in silence after giving directions to the cemetery, his mind almost empty as he struggled with this new knowledge, trying desperately to deny it was true. One look at Sydney though was enough to tell him that this was very real, too real.

Tasha stayed silent as they walked out of the Centre and drove to the cemetery, feeling horrible for everyone in this. This was all of her fault. If she hadn’t suggested offering Jarod to stay here, suggested to kill Lyle, none of this would have happened. All she had wanted though was to help Jarod, keep him safe and from harm. When they pulled up to the cemetery, Tash turned to Jarod. “Want to be alone?'

"No," Jarod said as he was dragged back to reality. He had been alone his entire life and he was scared he might go insane if he was alone right now.

"Alright,” She helped Jarod out the car and let him lead her to a gravestone. On one side it said Catherine Parker, she assumed by the date it was Miss Parker's mother. On the other side it said Mia Parker.

When Jarod saw the headstone and the name carved into it, it felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had a vision of her, so clear, standing at her mother’s grave. Closing his eyes he reached out to touch the cold marble. “You spend too much time in cemeteries Miss Parker,” he whispered.

Tash almost expected this woman to walk out the shadows and answer him. He spoke as if he were speaking to her, not just the air. Taking a small step back, she let Jarod have some time to grieve.

After a long moment, Jarod opened his eyes and looked at it once again. Catherine, Thomas, and now Parker, all here because of him. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, tracing out the name on the stone with his fingers. A feeling of hollowness was engulfing him and he didn’t even feel connected to his body anymore.

Tash remembered something and went back to get the bag from the car. Bringing it to Jarod, she crouched down and opened it, pulling out his photos, and an envelope with his name on it. "Here Jarod.” She whispered. “They were with your other things."

“What?” He asked, having forgotten she was even there. He took the envelope, recognising instantly the handwriting.

Tasha watched as Jarod opened it slowly and pulled out a letter and took a step back for him to have a chance to read it.

Jarod,

I know that you are gone now, it was all my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go there, I told you I had a bad feeling about it. My gut is normally right, and I knew I should have told them no. Maybe you wouldn’t be dead now because of me.

I caught Sydney a few times in his office, sitting in the dark, a bottle of scotch in front of him, yet to be drunk, crying softly. I never wanted to make him cry.

I remember how I felt when Momma died, when my Tommy died, the man I loved so much. The man you gave me to make me happy Jarod.

I know I yelled at you for giving him to me, only to lose him to the Centre, but I never told you how grateful I was that you did. To remind me for a brief moment that I could love again, be loved, that I really wasn’t as cold and horrible as people thought I was.

I am so sorry I killed you Jarod. I wish I had a chance to tell you how much you really meant to me. How on cold nights, alone in my house, no one even liking me enough to want to be with me outside of work, I used to think about us. Us as kids in the Centre, of the phone calls late in the night how, even though you made me feel bad at the time, made my life that little bit clearer.

I wish we were kids again. It seemed so much easier, simple, fun. Sneaking down to see that lonely little boy, with those wonderfully big brown eyes that I could lose myself in. Running off on little adventures, seeing Angelo, sitting in our hide out in the vents and talking.

I miss that time Jarod, I miss our friendship, I miss how no matter how hard it was between us on the hunt, you would still call me. Call me to talk, to ask something, to help me, to make us both feel better.

I miss you Jarod, I miss you more than I ever care to admit to anyone. I want you back, I want to turn back time and refuse to let you go. Fight more for you, keep Lyle from you, make your work good so you were happier here.

I wish we never caught you, that you never left, that I never left. I wish that I was more of a friend to you, especially in your hour of need after your brother died.

We found your family Jarod. I didn’t even tell Sydney about them. The agent found them for me. I sent them all a letter, from a post out of town, to let them know of their loss. I could not bear to think of them being out in the world, searching for their lost boy, not knowing he really was lost to them. Forever.

We scattered your ashes today, what they thought were your ashes. I guess, as Sydney said, it was more symbolic than anything. We, Sydney, Broots and I, scattered them over the ocean. Candles were lit, standing in the sand, flames to symbols the fire in your soul, the passion, the light. We had lilies, bright, beautiful white lilies, just like you. I had Broots find the copy of the photo I gave to you to take, of your mother and we set it off in the water when we let the ashes go. She will always be with you now Jarod, looking out for you, keeping you safe.

Safe. That’s a word not often used in the Centre. But you’re safe now Jarod, safe from us, from them, from all the hurt you have lived through.

Another word not often used with you or the Centre is free. But you are now. Free as the wind, as a bird high in the sky. I made sure of that when we let the ashes go, we let you go. Over the waters on the beach, safe to travel where ever you want, see what you want, do what you want.

I only hope now Jarod, that you can rest in peace, forgive us for what we have done to you, for what the Centre has done to you. For what I did to you, failed to do, failed to tell you.

I found a photo of us from when we were kids, before my mother died. You looked so happy, those brown eyes just sparkling as you smiled at me. I wish I could have seen that more often, I wish I had been more like that with you. You deserved so much more, deserved better, then the life you got. I hope now you can get everything you always wanted in your new life. Your freedom, safety, happiness, peace.

I wish there was a grave for you, but we didn’t want to confine you for all eternity in the ground. You couldn’t be free that way. I wish I could put this where you were, so you knew I thought about you, will always think about you. Every single day for the rest of my life I will think of you. The photo of us as kids is in here with the letter. I will keep your other photos safe like I promised. I will always keep your family safe from any more harm from the Centre.

One day, I will see you again, Sydney will see you again. When I do Jarod, I will finally tell you I love you, you were my best friend, the one person I could talk to when I really needed to.

Yours for all eternity Jarod,

Mia.

As Jarod read it, the tears fell freely and he dropped to his knees, all the strength gone from his legs as the words burned into his memory forever. If this was freedom, he wanted no part of it. He would give it all up if it would bring her back. All of his life he had loved her and now he had sacrificed her, and for what? Sydney was right. At what price did he buy his 'freedom'?

Natasha saw the photo drop out of the envelope and crouched down to pick it up. Seeing a young boy and girl in it, she guessed it was Miss Parker and Jarod. Gently she rested it against the headstone in front of Jarod.

Looking up as Jarod saw it, he shook his head, struggling to breathe as he looked up at Natasha in complete misery.

“I'm so sorry Jarod," Tasha was struggling not to cry herself, “I should never had suggested to Byrnes we offer this to you. Then she wouldn’t be dead, you wouldn’t be upset. No one would.” She opened her arms, needing to be held, Jarod needing to be held.

Jarod pulled her closely to him. "This isn't your fault Tash, it is mine. I should have known, if I had stopped thinking about myself for one second, I would have known.” He berated himself. He had never guessed though that Parker might really care for him, not anymore.

“We stole her from you Jarod, we did this to her. I wish he had just said you escaped, not that you were killed. I never wanted this to happen Jarod, I just wanted you safe from them, from Lyle hurting you. I wanted to give you a better life. But look at what that cost you, cost those two men that were in the office." Natasha whispered, holding tightly.

"She was never happy, they took it all from her, took everything she ever cared about. She had such fire as a little girl and they crushed her spirit as surely as they crushed mine.” He tried not to think of her dying alone in her big empty house in agony, feeling bereft, while he was happily trying to carve a new life for himself.

“Do you want to go to where she lived? Have one last look around?" Natasha offered, not sure if it would help him. “You loved her didn't you?" Natasha whispered, guessing he did at how miserable he was right now.

Jarod looked at her and nodded. "But not the way you think."

"How then Jarod?” She asked gently, feeling wrong for standing over the graves. She hated it, every time she went to the cemetery, she never walked over the graves.

"She was my best friend, my only friend. She brought light to my grey world, she taught me how to smile again." Jarod whispered, remembering the feeling he used to get when he saw her every time.

"She sounds like she was wonderful Jarod." Natasha whispered, knowing nothing about this woman.

Jarod laughed bitterly at that. Nobody except Thomas would ever describe her that way. "Maybe she can find some peace and happiness now, finally." Jarod didn't know if he believed in the afterlife though. He hoped for her sake she was with her mother, with Thomas. If nothing else, at least the pain was finally over for her.

"Let’s go to her house Jarod, have a look around and remember her.” She suggested. “It will help you.”

Nodding dully, Jarod just agreed because it was easier than arguing. He kissed the tips of his fingers and laid them gently on the gravestone before he walked away.

Picking up the bag, Natasha looked at the grave. “I am sorry Miss Parker for how this turned out, if I had known, I wouldn’t have offered Jarod the choice. I hope you rest in peace.” She whispered before turning away sadly and getting into the car with Jarod. He gave the directions to the house, and when they pulled up, Natasha looked at the manor. "Go in?”

Jarod sat there for a long time, just staring at it. He had often watched her place, even snuck in on numerous occasions. He didn't know if he should go in or not now, it felt wrong somehow.

"Come on, one last goodbye." Natasha whispered, pulling Jarod out the car and over to the house. She was surprised to see the door unlocked, guessing in a place like this, there wasn’t much crime. Walking Jarod in slowly, Natasha looked around at the beautiful house. It felt cold, but warm at the same time.

Everywhere Jarod looked he could see her. He saw some of the gifts he had sent her over the years, often wondering why she kept them. Her presence was in everything, the smell of her perfume still lingering on the air.

Looking around, not moving from the door. “Why don't you go and say goodbye to her Jarod? I will wait here."

Jarod nodded and walked through the house slowly, not even trying to control the onslaught of memories. He needed time alone now, time to break down and grieve. He wondered what they did with her silver ring, or her mother's ring that he had found for her. In her bedroom he was surrounded by her and the ghost of Tommy too and he wished he could bring them all back, could do things differently.

Tasha felt wrong being here, so went outside and slowly shut the door. Sitting down on the porch, she put her head in her hands and struggled not to cry. If she had just kept her damn mouth shut and let Jarod go back to the hell hole, his only friend would still be alive.

Jarod moved over to her dresser and saw her jewellery all laid out, waiting for her to get up in the morning. He picked up the chunky square silver ring she always wore and wondered what it meant to her. It was so unlike her. Everything this she owned seemed elegant and refined, except this. It looked more like a man's ring than a woman’s and he guessed he would never know now. Fingering it gently he slipped it on his little finger, finding it a perfect fit. After a moment, he took it off and placed it back down then thought twice and pocketed it as a reminder. If Sydney protested, he would give it back. The air still smelled of her perfume, especially in here, her presence so strong that it didn't seem possible that she might be dead.

Tash wondered if Jarod would ever move on from this, if Sydney and Mr Broots would move on from it. The man looked so worn and old, so tired that if he dropped, he would never get up again. He obviously loved this woman very much, and again, Tash wish she hadn’t suggested offering Jarod the choice.

After what could have been hours or minutes, Jarod moved to the bottom floor, not finding Natasha there. He turned around once and bid his final goodbye before closing the door gently and moved to the car, the ring in his pocket still.