Chapter # 7 – Recovery

“It’s me.”

“I thought we agreed that the goodbyes had been said.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you called. I can think about nothing else.”

“He’s still in the dark, right?”

“Suspicious as always, obviously a genetic trait we all share, but he just thinks you are away, not…”

“I might have to call you on that nature vs. nurture debate.”

“We’ll save that for when you are back.”

“That, and a pint of ice cream.”

“You sound so strong, so fearless.”

“I wish I could say I was. It’s a façade, one I’ve been forced to wear for many years.”

“But you are. Few would do what you are about to.”

“You would.”

“I’d like to think so, but honestly, I don’t know.”

“I know you would.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Maybe that’s the real genetic curse.”

THE CENTRE, INFIRMARY

Parker and Broots stood in the doorway quietly watching, as Sydney gently felt Jarod’s forehead while giving a nod of satisfaction before sinking down into the nearby chair.

Three days had passed and Parker could not recall a time she had popped in to check on the pretender and not seen Sydney at his bedside. She had purposely ignored the psychiatrist’s state of dress, not even wanting to hazard a guess for how many days he had been sporting that same outfit.

Sydney clearly had caught on to there presence as he turned in their direction, giving another curt nod. His face looked as if he had aged a decade in the past four days, his look haggard and unkempt, however for the first time in days, his eyes no longer held a look of controlled fear.

Jarod was stable – for now.

“So you were right,” Parker finally commented, as she and Broots entered the small infirmary room.

Sydney sighed his agreement, “Bacterial endocarditis – inflammation of the heart valves, normally easy to diagnose, but some pathogenic strains give a negative culture, as was in Jarod’s case. We overlooked it… If he had been at a real hospital, seen a cardiologist, they would have…”

“Hey Syd, lighten up. He’ll be okay. You caught it, end of story.” Parker said almost sharply.

The psychiatrist shook his head. “As I’ve said before Miss Parker, the heart is a very unforgiving muscle. It is extremely unlikely that he made it through this without long-term damage.”

Parker studied the pretender thoughtfully, his chest rising regularly and slowly. They were keeping him in a medically-induced coma in order to help reduce his blood pressure until they were certain he wouldn’t relapse into congestive heart-failure. Jarod had always defied the odds, he had survived so much. It seemed so hard to believe that perhaps this time his nine-lives were up.

“How long until you bring him back to life?” Parker finally asked, hearing Broots’ uncomfortably fidgeting from behind her.

“Assuming his vitals remain stable, later today. In addition to the IV antibiotics, he’s also on diuretics and blood thinners,” Sydney said almost absent-mindedly with a concerned, possibly apprehensive glance towards the pretender.

Turning her attention to the loyal tech behind her, Parker snapped her fingers as Broots knowingly handed her the small DSA he had prepared.

Parker inspected the disk before tossing it over to the psychiatrist. She had caught Broots preparing a copy of the infirmary footage from when Jarod had briefly regained consciousness, a private request from Sydney. Parker could only imagine the bitter earful that would be awaiting the psychiatrist, when his protégé returned to the land of the living. Jarod’s pleas to be allowed to stay conscious had gone ignored. She didn’t doubt that Sydney had made the right call, but she couldn’t quite imagine that Jarod would see it that way.

Parker didn’t fail to miss the unimpressed look the shrink flashed Broots, as she crossed her arms.

“Why the secrets Sydney?” She asked, “I can’t imagine what you possibly want with this disk. Jarod’s back, you’ve healed him. Besides his blatant disregard for the labrat’s well-being, Raines is more or less behaving himself. As far as the typical day in the Centre, this one is more lacklustre than most.”

Sydney sighed giving Jarod an almost inquisitive look-over.

“Call it a hunch,” he replied cryptically.

Parker raised her eyebrow, thinking back to Jarod’s capture, his unusual behavior and the brief visit she had paid him nearly two weeks back.

“I’ll be watching you Jarod.”

“I’m counting on it.”

A submissive Jarod, Lyle’s pursuit of Gemini littered with a trail of apparent near-misses; the situation had reeked of something contrived. It was after all too good to be true, at least from the Centre’s perspective.

After Jarod had fallen ill, Parker had forgotten all about her earlier suspicions, believing for once maybe the Centre had simply caught up to Jarod and his gene pool at the most vulnerable of moments.

She couldn’t ignore her earlier hunch any longer that there was more beneath the surface to be seen. What other explanation was there?

Private Airport, BIOLOXI, MISSISSIPI

Lyle stared at the sweeper team spread before him with annoyed disbelief.

“So you mean to tell me that despite a fool-proof lead, three witnesses and a dozen sweepers that Major Charles has managed to vanish with Gemini, without so much as a trace?” He practically yelled.

The twelve men stared stoically at the ground, as Lyle growled in frustration. Just then his phone began ringing. He glanced down at the screen, easily recognizing the number as belonging to Raines.

He threw his phone down angrily, overdoing it just enough to get a sharp flinch from most of the inept sweeper team, as it bounced on the tarmac.

Another Day, Another Failure.

The phone kept shrilling, as Lyle clenched his fist, wishing that it had smashed into a million pieces. Waging an internal debate, he finally took three threatening steps and snatched the phone from the ground, flipping it open in one fluid motion.

“Lyle,” he answered professionally, frowning as Raines voice greeted him.

“Did you get the boy?”

“No, the sweeper team in Bioloxi is more inept than all of our Florida satellite teams combined,” he offered lamely, his mind briefly flashing to Parker. She had kept up this pathetic excuse of a life for over five years. If Gemini started leaving them cryptic clues and god damn pez dispenser, he swore he would go postal.

Lyle heard Raines inhale deeply, but the older man didn’t bother vocalizing the threat that obviously was bobbing beneath the surface.

“How’s the original version doing?” Lyle asked.

“Latest report from the infirmary is promising. He should be awake by the end of the day.”

Lyle smiled as he ended the call, not bothering with a meaningless nicety such as goodbye. He thought back to the leather journal he had found at the beginning of this rat race. It was time for him and Jarod to have a little discussion.

“Tell the pilot to get the jet ready,” he commanded authoritatively, watching as the sweeper team scurried away.

He turned away from the group, surprised to find a stray sweeper running towards him.

“Mr. Lyle, sir, a search team found this in hangar,” the sweeper informed him, handing over a small package.

He took it in his hands, noting his name written in sharp block letters. Reaching into his suit pocket, Lyle pulled out his Swiss-army knife, fingering the sharp point before stabbing the box open.

It was apparent that mini-me was trying to continue his genetic source’s quest of pathetic annoyance.

A Lego airplane and a bag of jelly belly jellybeans; wonderful.

Thank god there wasn’t a red notebook.

THE CENTRE, INFIRMARY

Sydney rushed down the infirmary hallway, giving another frustrated look at his watch. He had overslept, his aging body requiring some much needed recovery time after nearly a week of running on nothing but anxiety, teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

He had failed Jarod again, missing the pretender’s return to consciousness. The more he tried to atone for the list of failures, the longer the list seemed to grow.

He didn’t give the two sweepers a second glance, as he entered Jarod’s infirmary room, admittedly relieved that they made no move to prevent his entrance. Raines had put down the welcome mat the instant Jarod had gone into cardiac arrest, but Sydney would be a fool to believe that the supposed ‘privileges’ would be extended for any significant period of time once Jarod was nursed back into ‘working condition.’

One glance at Jarod’s angry brown eyes and Sydney didn’t have to turn to the left to know there was another unwanted presence in the room. He did anyway, finding Lyle’s taunting face glaring down at the pretender, his hand clutching a worn leather bound journal.

“Well if it isn’t everyone’s favourite nurse-maid,” Lyle remarked dryly, as Sydney stared him down.

“Jarod needs his rest,” Sydney stated strongly, his arms folding across his chest.

“And I need Gemini. Did you not teach your boy the concept of ‘he scratches my back, I scratch his?’” Lyle mocked.

Sydney gave Jarod an apologetic look, as he moved in to read Jarod’s chart, comparing his latest set of vitals to those of the same time the day before. Remarkable improvement, the IV antibiotics coupled with blood thinners and diurectics were quickly working their magic. The improvement in the last seventy-two hours was remarkable.

“You’re just wasting time Lyle,” Jarod informed him briskly, “I thought it would be inherently obvious for a man of your moderate intelligence. It’s Jay’s journal, it’s about feelings, releasing memories and nightmares that you people created. It’s not a connect-the-dots treasure map that leads to recapture.”

“My request is not optional Jarod. You will read the journal and tell me what it says,” Lyle warned.

“Or what? You’ll have to be a lot more creative than this. No more jumper cables, doctor’s orders,” Jarod replied smugly. Sydney frowned, it was obvious that Jarod had been informed of his current condition and the significant scarring his heart had most likely sustained. The pretender gave a painful swallow before continuing, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke, “Even if I could decipher his shorthand, those are not my words to read.”

Lyle scoffed, “Is that a challenge Jarod?” he threatened, “You’re definitely not going anywhere in your current state,” he added, moving in and giving a not so gentle tug on the soft-restraint around the pretender’s wrist.

Jarod’s face darkened. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?” He asked with a tone of exasperation.

Lyle checked his watch and frowned. “Careful, one of these days I might just arrive back with your little carbon copy in tow. No need for me to throw out those jumper cables just yet.” He gave Jarod a demeaning pat on the thigh before walking past Sydney pausing briefly. “May I suggest you remind Jarod about the concept of taking orders and obeying them, before I am forced to find someone who will,” he added before exiting the room without a backward glance.

Sydney watched as Jarod put his head back on the flimsy pillow, an audible sigh leaving him.

“I’m sorry Jarod…” Sydney started gingerly, clamming up as the pretender’s face tightened.

“For what Sydney? Putting me in a coma? Giving me the pleasure of once again waking up alone, tied to an infirmary bed?” Jarod snapped, wincing as he struggled to swallow, his throat still sore from the ventilator.

Sydney moved over and poured Jarod a generous cup of water from the nearby sink, holding it to his protégé’s lips. The pretender stared at the cup before craning his neck to take a greedy gulp.

“Put yourself in my shoes Jarod. You nearly slipped back into cardiac arrest, what else could I have done?” Sydney pleaded.

“Listened,” Jarod retorted.

Sydney pulled the water away and moved to the nearby chair, his thoughts turning to the DSA he had reviewed with the remaining of his lucid hours. “I’m listening now,” he informed the agitated pretender.

Jarod turned his head in Sydney’s direction. “I don’t need the catheter anymore. Although maybe that’s the point, if I don’t require use of a washroom then what motivation is there to let me up from this bed.”

Sydney leaned heavily against the back rest of the chair. What did Jarod expect him to do? He supposed he could release him from the restraints, but the sweeper posted outside would be in within minutes. Logically he realized that Jarod knew that, and was likely just venting his pent-up frustration. So why did he feel so guilty?

Deciding to ignore Jarod’s remark, Sydney reached into his corduroy jacket, pulling out the silver DSA and holding it up for the pretender to see.

Jarod gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

“It’s a DSA of your time in the infirmary. Do you remember what happened when you regained consciousness?” Sydney asked, knowing full well Jarod did, given his earlier accusation.

“One of my more lucid moments since Miss Parker dragged me back here,” Jarod replied suspiciously.

“Do you remember what was said?” Sydney pried.

Jarod’s eyes darted away, as Sydney’s suspicions further increased. “I do remember being restrained after a few bleary moments of consciousness. I remember begging to stay awake and most of all I remember my request going unanswered and ignored.” The pretender recounted bitterly.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

The words that screamed in the back of Sydney’s brain, the phrase Jarod had repeated on more than one occasion before he had been forced back into oblivion.

“I think you remember more than that.” Sydney stated with certainty. “Endocarditis can be caused by a bacterial infection the spreads to the heart as with your case, most likely exacerbated by…”

“Raines,” Jarod interrupted softly, Sydney nodded his head in disgust.

“We know about your work at the Best Institute Jarod, your research into pancreatic cancer, about your involvement with the avian disease department.”

“I’m surprised Miss Parker bothered to send the bloodhounds on that trail. Is Corporate not the lustrous career she remembered it be?” Jarod questioned, still looking away. “I assume there is a point to you revisiting my path before fate intervened and I ended up back here.”

“There are several diseases known to mankind that are easily transferred from avian species to humans, a relatively rare disease known as psittacosis, for example. In your case we initially missed the diagnosis of endocarditis because the particular bacterial colony gave a false negative culture result.”

“Spare me the science lesson, I wrote the grant proposal for the Avian disease research program, or did you three not dig deep enough to find that one out?” Jarod informed his mentor.

Sydney studied the pretender’s taunt face, wondering if he realized how hard Broots had worked trying to save Jarod. He didn’t doubt that if it hadn’t been for the tech and his incessant rambling about the avian research project, Sydney’s mind would have never taken the path it needed to consider the possibility of bacterial endocarditis.

“What is going on Jarod?” He finally asked bluntly.

“According to your theory it would seem that I had a careless moment in the lab and got infected with one of the strains of avian bacteria that we worked with.”

“This is not an interrogation, I’m genuinely concerned for you.” Sydney stated with a fatherly tone.

Jarod finally turned and met his mentor’s concerned gaze. “That sentence sounded unfinished,” the pretender stated knowingly.

Sydney felt the corners of his lip curve upwards, almost in a small smile. At times it amazed him how well Jarod knew him.

“Something just feels wrong about this Jarod. Your behaviour, your words ...This isn’t about you being sick, it’s something else.”

Jarod frowned. “Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I do not belong here.”

Sydney looked away at the harsh delivery of Jarod’s words. He took a deep breath and tried a different approach.

“Jarod, you know you can trust me. You know I will do everything in my power to protect you. Please, let me in.”

“I don’t want in, I want out!” Jarod cried, frowning with disgust as the sweeper posted outside the infirmary room poked his head in the room, giving the pretender a warning stare, which was returned. “Seems like I upset the baby-sitter,” Jarod muttered.

Sydney reached over and placed two hands on Jarod’s forearm. “Jarod, let me help you. Tell me what is going on.”

For an instant Sydney believed he saw a flash of something in Jarod’s eyes, but the pretender quickly averted his gaze away from his mentor’s.

“I was dragged back here in handcuffs, shoved in whatever dark corner of whatever sub-level happened to be convenient, never mind the lovely series of events that led to my heart stopping for the second time in my life, and now you are suggesting that I am hiding something?” Jarod asked accusingly.

“It’s the Centre, everyone is hiding something.” Miss Parker informed the pair, as she strode in the room announcing her arrival. “I want the truth now Jarod, we went through this before, and now that your substitute mommy is suspicious I’m more certain than ever that this whole situation reeks of lies.”

“As your mother used to say, ‘the truth can kill you or set you free.’” Jarod countered, not fazed by Parker’s accusations.

“Don’t give me that crap Jarod. Besides, I think we’ve already established what end of that spectrum you are most likely to fall victim to.” Parker replied, fingering one of the soft restraints around Jarod’s ankle.

“Parker, please.” Sydney implored. Jarod and Parker had rare moments of kindness and understanding towards each other, but it seemed each good act had to be counteracted with instances such as this.

“Jarod, you don’t have to do this alone. I can help you, you just have to trust me.” Sydney pleaded gently.

Jarod wouldn’t meet Sydney’s eyes, instead keeping his eyes focused intently on his former huntress. “Trust is a dangerous thing, especially in here,” he stated bluntly.

Sydney shifted uncomfortably in the chair, watching as the two he cared most about in the world just stared in silence. Jarod, his eyes searching for a hint of compassion, a sign that he could trust the woman before him, and Parker, her eyes dangerous and cold, hiding the concern that Sydney knew she felt, trying to piece together exactly what was going on.

Their lives had reached a stalemate.

THE CENTRE, MISS PARKER’S OFFICE

Miss Parker stood impatiently at her window, waiting for Broots to grace them with his presence. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was more than amiss with Jarod, with the whole chain of events that led them to this moment. Five years spent chasing Jarod was more than enough to learn his mannerisms, his boyish quirks, even how he responded under the threat of recapture.

His behaviour was out of character, not just his recapture, but for the several months leading up to Jarod’s return, something just hadn’t felt right. Not until overhearing Sydney confront Jarod with similar feelings had she been able to dismiss the idea that maybe it was just overactive paranoia.

And here they were.

Broots finally blustered into her office, huffing slightly. She closed her eyes shaking her head slightly at his awkward mannerisms.

She turned and made her way to her desk, leaning against it, as she looked into Sydney’s worried eyes.

“I’m beginning to think that I’ll always be chasing after Jarod and his theatrics, Centre or not.” She commented.

“Has Raines hidden him away again?” Broots asked.

“Not yet.” Parker answered cryptically, “I need you to keep digging into what Jarod was up to before he arrived here.” She turned around, pulling a large sealed bag off her desk, pushing it into the tech’s unprepared hands, causing him to fall into the chair behind him.

“These are Jarod’s belongings that came back in with him. I want every fibre inspected, the contents of his pockets analyzed. I want to know every call that cell phone made, every door those keys opened, and how boy-wonder managed to get a corporate credit card without one of the idiots in here realizing it.” She ordered firmly.

Broots looked into the bag with slight apprehension. “For all of the unpaid overtime I’m going to have to pull to do this, I think I deserve to know.”

Parker raised an eyebrow, turning towards Sydney, seeing no objection she answered the question willingly. “Sydney and I share certain suspicions that Jarod is up to something. He was more obedient than your neighbourhood golden retriever while we dragged his ass back here from California. The moment he’s back, Lyle conveniently hits pay dirt with Gemini and hasn’t stopped running around the country since. Fate isn’t that kind, at least not to me. When it comes to the Centre, if it sounds too good to be true, it is.”

Broots’ expression grew distant, as he obviously processed Parker’s words with the events of the past few weeks.

Parker snapped her fingers, bringing him back.

“While your gnome friend in forensics..”

“He’s actually a double amputee…” Broots interrupted.

“Whatever! While you are having Jarod’s belongings analyzed, see if you can find Angelo, Uncle Fester conveniently has him hidden away, and he’ll have his slimy fingers back on Jarod the second it’s prudent to remove him from the infirmary. You need to work fast.” Parker warned.

“I’m on it.” Broots agreed, gripping the bag as he made his way into a standing position.

“What do you hope to accomplish with Angelo, Parker?” Sydney questioned curiously as Broots scurried out of the room.

“Jarod may not tell us what is going on in his over-sized brain, but Angelo will.” Parker answered tersely.

The psychiatrist frowned. “Angelo doesn’t betray, he uses his gift only to help, not to harm,” he cautioned.

Parker remained silent, contemplating Sydney’s words. Angelo had been an incredible ally, a wonderful resource, but Sydney was right, he had never once divulged a clue or secret that had put Jarod in her crosshairs.

“I think this time, even Angelo might be on our side.” She finally admitted, not entirely believing or disbelieving her words.

“Angelo will only be on Jarod’s side,” Sydney countered.

“Those two can be frat brothers for all I care. Jarod is up to something, and whether he knows it or not, it’s in his best interest not to keep me in the dark.”

“Jarod will never trust the Centre.” Sydney argued.

Parker raised her voice slightly, “I’m not asking him to trust the Centre, I’m asking him to trust me.”

Sydney raised his eyebrows at the conviction that sounded in her voice.

‘Is there a difference?’ She could almost imagine him saying.

For all of his annoyances and boyish short-comings, Jarod had never lied or misled her, at least about the important things.

Could she say the same?

THE CENTRE, INFIRMARY

Lyle smirked as the sweeper straightened his post while he took in the powerful crowd approaching Jarod’s infirmary. It was well after midnight, and the assigned guard probably hadn’t expected to see such power players paying the pretender a late night visit.

Willie turned on the light in the infirmary room not caring that the room’s occupant shied away from the harsh glow, his eyes blearily betraying the fact he had been asleep.

“Back so soon?” Jarod croaked as he focused on Raines.

Lyle didn’t bother responding, tossing a small package onto Jarod’s restrained form. He had returned from Biloxi and barely been in the Centre thirty minutes before Broots had informed him of a hit on Major Charles and Gemini in nearby New Jersey.

Jarod craned his neck slightly, “Jelly beans?” He questioned, taking in the small colourful bag in surprise.

“It appears that Gemini has developed tastes for something even more juvenile than Pez,” Lyle remarked, finally picking up the bag and tossing it towards Willie.

“What’s your point Lyle?” the pretender asked bitterly as he lay back onto his pillow.

“I think you know,” was the mocked reply as the thick leather journal landed squarely on the prone pretender’s chest.

“I thought we had been through this,” Jarod replied softly. He nervously eyed Raines, as the man stepped away from Lyle and wheeled his oxygen tank to Jarod’s other side.

“You’re the rat in my maze now Jarod. You will do as I say.” Lyle threatened, smiling as Raines pulled the IV out of the pretender, the restrained man grimacing with pain.

Jarod looked away as Willie came over and undid the four hospital restraints, and remained motionless as the sweeper stepped back.

“I suppose this is the part where I beg forgiveness for my actions to spare myself?” Jarod asked sarcastically.

Raines who had been uncharacteristically silent finally spoke, “Get up Jarod. You may have spared yourself from the more traditional games, but this is the Centre. This place hasn’t survived as long as it has without flexibility. An occasional change in strategy is warranted, when faced with new information. Consider this your one and only warning.”

Lyle watched as Jarod’s eyes darted between himself and Raines. With an exasperated exhale he weakly pushed himself to a sitting position, swinging his legs over the bedside.

Willie didn’t hesitate, marching straight over and pulling Jarod’s cupped hands up as he pulled out his handcuffs.

“Ohh I get them in front this time, your kindness is touching,” the pretender said sarcastically as he was pulled upwards, requiring Willie’s intervention to stay upright.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening Jarod. Tomorrow is a new day with new rules. Don’t forget that,” Lyle reminded him as Jarod staggered out of the room, the guard from the door intervening to give the pretender some much needed support.

Lyle looked towards Raines, “I still think you should tell him. Sometimes the path of least resistance is the most prudent.”

The older man just stared back, “Just get me the boy,” was the wheezed reply as the man disappeared from the room.

Lyle checked his watch unnecessarily, seeing it was half past midnight. Broots would likely still be in the tech-room. Perhaps a little motivation was in order.

Find the boy, rule the Centre.

Now that was something to smile about.