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Chapter or Story
"Yes. I do need it. I promised not to monitor their time together, so I have no idea how long he'll be in there. I might as well get some work done. The paper I'm writing on fourteenth century Athens is almost finished and my deadline is noon tomorrow."
"I thought you were in Turkey in the thirteen hundreds."
"Only part of the time. I traveled a lot. Go, will you please? As well as I cook you don't want me starting to mess around in the kitchen."
"Bloody right. Fine. If you screw up my game though, I'll personally run you through."
"You and bleeding Pac Man. You're gonna drive me bonkers with that thing."
As Macleod turned away to go in search of Methos' laptop, he felt a sting in his left shoulder and strong arms supporting his weight over to the sofa as a fast acting sedative dragged him down into darkness, Methos' face and voice the last clear memory he would have for the next four hours.
"I'm so sorry, Mac. I knew you'd really hate what I'm about to do. It's just easier this way. Sleep well, buddy. See you soon."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLUE COVE:
"Petey. Hey, sorry to wake you, guy, but we're here."
"Huh? Where?"
"At the abbey. C'mon. Time for you to get going."
Forcing himself awake, Broots lifted his weight away from Terri's supporting arm.
"Man. How long have I been asleep?"
"Only about twenty minutes. Sorry to have to get you up so soon, but..."
"No. It's okay. Thanks for, you know, lettin me...."
"Hey. Glad to be of service." she replied, starting to follow him out of the truck.
"Whoa. I don't think so. You stay here."
"What? You can't be serious."
"Totally. You aren't in costume and you're female. You'd stick out like Janet Reno in the Miss America contest. You stay. If you even think there's anyone suspicious comin' around, crank this puppy up and get out of dodge. Long as you've got your cell we can get a hold of you and let you know we're okay."
"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?"
"All I can give you is Syd's old standby."
"Don't ask." they chorused together.
"Forget it. I won't leave you and Abe behind."
"Listen, Terri. You don't even want to contemplate how much worse it can get than just a couple burns on your neck. Do what I say, alright? If someone's snooping..."
"Take off. I get it. I don't like it all that much, but I'll do it."
"Good. Sydney and I will be back soon. Duck and cover, okay?"
After a swift embrace, the two separated and Broots followed Sydney into the abbey.
As they entered, Sydney heard voices raised in anger coming from the kitchen. Signaling to Broots that he was to stay there, Sydney moved quietly to the head of the stairs and peered down, immediately recognizing one or two of the sweepers haranguing the line of stoic monks seated on one of the long benches. The table it belonged with had been pushed to the far wall and heaped with equipment, weapons and the men's jackets. Cursing his luck and the Centre in the same breath, Sydney swiftly returned to where Broots waited.
"Stay quiet. The search teams are here. You head up to the isolation level. Michael and I will join you there as soon as we can." Sydney instructed, turning away.
Broots grabbed his arm, rejecting the idea.
"No way. You go. I go."
"I want you out of harms way."
"It's my decision. I'm going."
Suddenly Sydney understood how little credit he'd always given Broots and how strong the man actually was.
"Alright. But back into Brother Christian, right? Not a word."
"I get it, okay? Let's go."
As they descended the steps into the kitchen, both men bowing their heads to keep their faces well hidden, Broots stopped just inside the door as if he'd been told to wait there while Sydney continued toward the end of the bench where the abbot sat, his face a study in ire and frustration. Unfortunately, he was stopped before he could reach Michael.
"I didn't think they were all here. Takes more than twelve people to run a place this big. I guess you don't talk either." the man said, taunting him. "We've got a room full of stubborn people here, gentlemen. If we cut this one's tongue out, do you think it might encourage the others?" he laughed, tightly holding Sydney by one elbow.
Shaking his head, Sydney responded by reaching out and gripping the man who held him, just below where the man's wrist met his hand, and squeezing until the sweeper cried out in pain and released him. After sketching a quick bow he moved on, finding a small space to sit near Michael. Producing a pad and pencil the abbot wrote a swift note then passed them both to Sydney.
//We're all fine, except for James of course. They haven't hurt us. After that demonstration, I have to wonder if they'll even try. James may not last the night. The fever's running through him like a wildfire. Can't get it down far enough or fast enough to do any real good.//
Reading the note, Sydney tore it away and wrote one of his own, vaguely coding it in case it should be taken away.
//We're doing all we can, father. He's in God's hands now. Brother Freeman has hurt himself working in the roof garden. He sent Brother Christian and I to see if you could come to him.//
Nodding, Michael rose and managed a step or two before being halted. Sydney waited for Raines' soldier to decide to move. When it became obvious it wasn't happening, he repeated the maneuver he'd used on the first man, this time adding a quick twist that resulted in the sharp crack of breaking bone. He and the abbot walked out unmolested, collecting Broots on the way, and proceeded to the isolation floor, leaving the two sweepers to tend to their injuries.
Trying to stay aware of who was around them, to be absolutely sure they weren't followed, the three friends made it to the isolation level without being spotted or having their movements reported. When Sydney saw Lyle he instantly knew Michael's assessment had been correct; Lyle might not survive the next several hours and would not emerge undamaged if he did.
"He's in horrendous shape. When did the fever develop?"
"It was discovered this morning. It must have begun overnight."
Hearing Broots mumbling under his breath, Michael and Sydney both left the bedside and focused on him.
"What is it?"
"I did this. It's because I hit him on the head."
"No. Infections take advantage of opportunity, Chris...."
"Yeah, like the one I gave them."
"Broots, no...."
"Stop it, Syd. If he dies it's on my hands and my conscience, so don't you even dare try and tell me it isn't my fault."
When Sydney started to speak again, Michael stopped him.
"Can I try?"
"Of course."
"Chris. Do you believe in your heart that James is an evil man?"
"No. Not really. I think he's... damaged. His dad abused him as a kid."
"Did he do evil things?"
"Yeah, but...."
"Why did you feel it necessary to injure him?"
"To save Sydney's life."
"Which was in imminent danger?
"Yes."
Taking Broots by the shoulders, Michael smiled at him.
"Close your eyes. As this act was performed in defense of another's life, God deems you blameless for it and by his grace I absolve you of all guilt and shame. Te Absolvo, Christian." Michael intoned softly, signing the cross on the backs of Chris' hands and then on his forehead. Luckily for Broots, Sydney and Michael's reflexes were both in top shape, as his knees buckled the moment the abbot touched his face and the other two had to move swiftly to catch him before he hit the floor.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah. I'm okay."
Transferring Broots entirely into Sydney's hands, Michael ran out and returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea. After being helped to a nearby chair and given a moment to catch his breath, Broots' color returned and he seemed to regain his equilibrium.
"What happened?" Michael asked.
"I don't know. One minute you were talking to me and touching my hands, the next the bells started ringing so loud they drowned you out. I got really weak for a second... That's about it."
Looking to Sydney, Michael saw his own confusion mirrored there.
"We have no bells here, Chris. The closest we could come is a set of chimes in the music room downstairs."
"Real funny. Don't be jokin' with a fragile man, here. I heard bells. Okay, maybe not just bells. There could have been voices underneath all that noise but I wasn't really focused on gettin' everything out of the music... Why do you guys keep lookin' at each other so funny? You're scaring me, Syd."
"We don't mean to. It's just that... we weren't joking. There really is no bell system here at the abbey. The building is too small too support one and being in the center of town the complaints would be flooding in by the hundred pound bag."
"Then... what did I hear?"
When no response was forthcoming from either man, Broots groaned, threw his hands over his eyes and tried to shut out the world that seemed determined to keep his life on spin cycle, despite his constant pleas for the merry-go-round to stop.
Nearly as worried about Broots now as Sydney was, Michael smiled gently at him and patted his shoulder.
"There's a dormitory room just down the hall that's empty, Chris. Why don't you go and lay down? Some rest would do you a world of good right now."
"I wish I could. I don't dare, Syd. What if.... Well, you know what."
"If it happens again, send for me. I'll be there as fast as I can."
"All I want is to go back to your place, but we can't go near it as long as there's a chance the sweepers are still crawlin' all over the place. I'm so sorry, Syd. I lost you your house and all your things..."
"No, you didn't. Everything will be alright. You're safer here than you ever were at my house. Go and sleep. I promise I won't be far."
Wearily, Broots nodded his acceptance of Sydney's reassurances, rose and shuffled off to the dorm escorted by one of the resident monks. The moment he was out of earshot, Michael questioned Sydney.
"If what happens again?"
"The history behind it is too much to explain. He's developed a.... premonitory ability. It shows itself mostly when he sleeps, therefore...."
"Sleep is the last thing he wants. I see. When did this start?"
"Technically, five years ago. Actually, just a few days ago."
"I see what you meant by too much. He seems very close to the edge."
"No appetite, no sleep and a stratospheric stress level will do that, I'm afraid. I have a favor to ask, Michael. You're not in any way obligated, of course...."
"Go on. You know I'll do whatever I can."
"You always do. That's what makes you such a dear friend to me.... and now, I hope, to Chris too. His life is in danger because of this ability. I'm arranging to get him out of town now. Hopefully someone will be coming to get him, but until they can he's expressed a desire to stay with you and the others here at the abbey."
"In danger how? The Centre?"
"Isn't it always? Everything they touch becomes foul and contemptible, no matter how pure or uncorrupted it was at the start.... I'm trying to protect him as best I can, Michael, but it's only Terri and I right now and I'm terrified that the two of us just won't be enough...."
"You're not alone, Abe. You don't have to do this by yourself anymore."
"Yes. So I've been told. I'm finding it very hard to believe."
"I never could get you to give up bucking for Atlas' job in all the eight years you were here. I guess you're still in the running, hmm?"
"Somewhat. Look. Can he stay? I need to...."
"What you need is a break. Christian is under our protection now, Abe. By the look of your bloodshot eyes and the way your hands are shaking, I'd say you need sleep and good food as much as he does. Let the world go for a while, Abe. Let it roll off your shoulders and see to itself and you take care of you for once."
"You don't understand. There are things I have to do. Broots has a young daughter who's in as much danger as any of us if they get their hands on her. More. He'd never forgive me if...."
"We'll bring her here from school. Terri can stay too until the fire dies down out there."
"I can't ask that of you. I don't have the right."
"Of course you do. You were a part of us once, Abe. You'll always be a brother here and you'll always have the same privileges any of the others do, whether you live here or you don't. Now go get some sleep. I'm going down and see if I can hustle those black-suited minions of Satan out of this house of God."
Gazing at Michael critically, Sydney sat back slightly in his chair, indicating he was not quite ready to accede to what he perceived in the abbot's tone.
"I don't appreciate being patronized, Michael. I'm not a fourteen year old boy any longer and, as much as I might respect you, I'm not in awe of you the way I was when I first arrived here."
"I never said you were. You were never a child, Abe. You've been an adult all your life. When you left us you already knew more than some that had been here years and years."
"You said you wouldn't bring it up. You promised me."
"No. What I said is that I would never ask your reasons for going back to the world. I've never broken that promise. Your justifications are between you and the Lord. I still care about you, Abe. It doesn't matter to me whether I see you every other minute or once a year. I reserve the right to worry and pray and wish you'd made a different decision."
"There are times...."
"I expect so. Perhaps Christian isn't the only one who needs absolution."
"I made a choice, Michael. I allowed someone to cloud my eyes, to convince me there was something more important I could be doing, something more important than God and the vow I made to Him. Because of that choice I committed heinous acts of cruelty against both adults.... and innocent children. I've done things I would never dare to ask forgiveness or absolution for. I've been wondering just lately if He'd accept me back if I could find the courage to ask, but... I'm so terrified to hear the answer.... I haven't voiced the question. After the way I rejected Him... I don't really like my chances."
Rising, Sydney left the room before Michael could form a response.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SEACOUVER:
"Jarod. C'mon, boy. Time to wake up. I know it's hard but me talkin' to myself won't get us anywhere."
With a few gentle pats on the cheek and more verbal encouragement, Jarod reluctantly began to grope his way back to consciousness, though the headache that greeted his return made him wish the gas had killed him. "Atta-boy. Good. Keep comin'. You'll be back all the way in a minute or two."
The memory of his last few minutes with Parker abruptly renewed itself in Jarod's head, bringing barely controlled fury back with it. Seeing the knowledge flare in the younger man's eyes, Methos backed off several feet.
"Y.... you son of a bitch.... what have you done...." Jarod growled, struggling to rise and attack the man across from him, but stopped cold by the severity of his headache and a flush of lingering dizziness.
"First ground rule; no name calling. Calm down, son. I did this for you."
"Missy....."
"She's in the immersion cell, where she's supposed to be. You're where you need to be right now."
"I don't understand. What do you mean "ground rules"?"
"This is an intervention. All interventions have a set of rules to manage the behavior of everyone involved."
"Intervention... you're insane."
"Someone had to step in, Jarod. You and I are going to have a long talk about your behavior, your emotional state and whatever else we can get to in the five or so hours before Mac comes out from under the sedative I gave him. Oh, and, before you bother looking, I've got your jack-knife and your copy of the door remote. You'll get them back when we've straightened a few things out."
"My behavior...."
"Yes. You've got Macleod and I worried near to death. You're losing your grip, Jarod, just the slightest bit. I won't see you fall when I could have reached out and pulled you back. I've let it happen before and..... well, let's just say I don't deal well with failing my friends."
"I don't confide in people who betray me."
"How many times a month do you call him?"
"That's different and you know it. Sydney is the closest thing to a father that I had. He's the only one who understands..."
"Understands what? Who you are or who he wants you to be? Can you be more than his expectations, Jarod? Can you even see beyond them?"
"I already have. Look. My head is pounding. If you don't plan on letting me out of here then leave me alone and let me sleep this off."
"I can't. We are going to talk, Jarod, headache or no. Your silence is killing you just as sure as her rage is killing her. I can't let you cop out. She had no place to run in here and neither do you. Let's start with what happened upstairs in your room."
"I don't remember."
"Mac already told you the what. I want to know why."
"I'm fine. What do you expect to get out of persecuting me?"
"Yeah. You're peachy keen. That's what trying to throw the headphones through the wall was about, right? Emotionally healthy people put their fists through panes of glass and then block out the event. Happens all the time."
"I said I'll pay for the damage...."
"It's not about the wall or the headphones or the window, Jarod. This is about the damage done to you all those years ago and making a start on fixing that."
Jarod closed his eyes and gave the same response he'd given before to subtler attempts to put across the same message.
"You know I can't stop. Too many people need me."
"There are only two reasons any of us try to fix a fellow human being, Jarod. Either we're really okay within ourselves and we genuinely want to help others, or there's something inside us we think is beyond repair, so we go outside whatever situation we can't face and find someone to make better. While we're cleaning up their mess, we can avoid having to look at our own."
"Stop it.... please...."
"No can do. I won't let you keep on this path. I've been watching you for a few months now, hoping you'd pull out of this slow nosedive and I wouldn't have to intervene, but when you crunched your hand.... I knew it was time to do something."
When Jarod finally looked at him again, the terror and hopelessness he saw there nearly ripped Methos' heart in two.
"What do you think you can do that I haven't tried? I've read every book there is on individual recovery of repressed memory, self-hypnosis, self-therapy...."
"Aren't you seeing a pattern there?"
"I don't understand."
"Self, individual. As in all alone."
Striding to sit beside Jarod on the bed, Methos warmed his friend's cold right hand in between his own. "You've survived four years in the world alone, trying all by yourself to fix everything they broke. You don't have to do it anymore. I'm here now and you don't even have to ask for my help. I'm giving it willingly."
"If I could ask, don't you think... I don't have the right to drag anyone into my personal tar pit, Methos. What I do remember is horrific enough. How much worse must the rest of it be if my mind's trying to protect me from it by throwing up these.... brick walls I keep running into?"
"If you don't turn and face the demons that are chasing you down they will catch you and they will swallow you whole, alive and kicking. You've become one of my best mates. I won't lose you that way."
Turning from Methos, Jarod drew his knees to his chest, wrapping himself into a tight ball.
"I can't. There are too many and they're too strong."
"Haven't you been listening, son? Nothing's too strong for the two of us. I'm gonna stay right by your side, shoulder to shoulder. I would never abandon you in the darkness, Jarod. We go in together and we come out the other side the same way."
"The darkness is what I've been fighting all these years.... If I go in I'll never find a way out again. It's too hard..."
"Bull! Getting out of the Centre was hard. Going back and getting Kyle out before Raines could scramble his gray matter was a bloody miracle. You've done hard before, mate, and you did it all on your own mettle. You've got me now and I swear I won't leave you. If you ever trusted anyone, Jarod, trust me now."
Slowly, though it seemed to take forever, Jarod moved back around to face Methos, extending his injured hand only, as if implying that he knew how deeply his friend could hurt him and that he was placing that vulnerability before Methos, trusting him not to do any more harm than had already been done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly waking in the isolation cell Duncan and Methos had thrown together based on Jarod's fragmented memories of SL27, Parker raised her head slightly off the floor and was assaulted by the same pain Jarod had woken up to only a short time earlier. Gingerly lowering her head back down, she straightened her legs and looked around as best she could without causing the headache to spike.
The only light came from a small square several feet high in what she assumed must be the door, and was not sufficient for her to see much of her surroundings. Water dripped faintly in the background and muffled voices occasionally came and went, moving past the door and away. The floor beneath her felt like cement, but without being able to see it she couldn't be sure.
When her overwhelmed mind finally connected the sounds she was hearing to the images Macleod had dredged from the depths of her subconscious, she panicked utterly, pulling herself up to her knees and crawling frantically until she reached a wall. Her own harsh breathing only adding to her terror, she leaned into the wall trying to force the headache to back off and her racing heart to slow. To her dismay, the stress of trying to calm herself only worsened the pain until she retreated into the static once again. In a tiny corner of her mind the true Melissa Parker escaped a dismal and bitter world in sleep, leaving Missy to wake moments later, abruptly dropped back into a nightmare she'd thought long over and well buried.
As she had the first time circumstance and betrayal had left her alone in a small, dark, quiet room, she began to scream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLUE COVE:
Now that he had made the decision to go looking for Lyle and Molly on his own, Mister Parker was feeling more at peace than he had in many months. Staring at the drawer that contained his future and the future of his children, he leaned back in his desk chair and grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself. He had ensured that no matter what the leadership of the Centre might try, the three of them would always be safe.
Rising, he strolled to the couch and the replacement table that had been delivered only that morning and lifted the picture of Catherine, gazing at it with affection and a genuine sense of finally having done something she would have been proud of him for.
When the voice began whispering, he ignored it at first, thinking that perhaps someone was passing the office or that he had accidentally left the television on in the entertainment center and, distracted, closed the doors. When the sound grew louder, he raised his eyes from the framed photo, finally recognizing his name being called, squinting in irritation that a visitor or some important business would drop on his doorstep just then.
The vision before him stole his breath and sent him stumbling backwards, unable to credit what he was seeing with the reality it seemed to possess. Snagging his pant-leg on a corner of the new table, he crashed to the floor on his left hip, struggling for breath and fighting a sudden sharp pain that told him some damage had been done in the fall, but unable, despite everything, to tear his eyes away.
"Catherine.... Dear God... Catherine..."
It's time to rest now, Richard. You've worked so hard these last few years.... Time to rest, my love....
"Do you know, Catherine? Did you see? They're safe now.... both our children are safe...."
I know, Richard. I watch over them... and you.... time to rest, darling Richard... Rest....
As the vision of his late wife stretched out a hand to brush his cheek, Richard Parker reached to grasp her fingers and slipped into a darkness of his own making, his last coherent thought, that he had finally made Catherine happy, spiraling down with him into the abyss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Abe. Abe, wake up. There's trouble with a capital T."
"Michael? What is it?"
"Not here. I don't want to give Chris any more to worry about. What he doesn't know..." Michael whispered, waiting for Sydney to rise, then preceding him into the hall.
"Is something wrong?"
"You could say that. In a "God please don't desert me now" kind of way. Someone else just showed up. He seems to be in charge of the others. Actually they all seem terrified of him."
"Does he carry oxygen with him?"
"Yes. You know him then."
"I'm afraid so. It seems Satan has decided his minions need personal direction."
"He definitely gave off that vibration. The second he looked at me I wanted to start a prayer chant on the spot."
"I won't argue the point. We need to pull Terri inside and out of his rifle sights."
"Of course. Any thoughts about getting those demons and the head devil out of here?"
"No. I did, but.... Raines won't leave until he's personally satisfied himself that Chris and I aren't here. We'll have to wait him out."
"I suppose so. I'll send someone who's already up here to go out and get the young lady and hide the truck in the underground garage."
"Under.... when did you build that?"
"Later. Time for stories when we're all safe. Go back to sleep."
"No. I can't do that. Not now."
"Yes, you can. Nothing you can do but hide. Just in case."
"Knowing he's here.... I can't, Michael. Just... go get Terri, alright?"
"At least go sit and rest, you stubborn mule." Michael teased gently, smiling, but putting just enough concern in his voice that Sydney would know he meant it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I don't know, sir. Yes. I am the one who.... No, sir. Someone's been watching his office since Doctor Raines had to leave and Mister Parker.... Of course, sir. I.... Yes. I'll await your arrival."
In the ten minutes it took his superior to join him at the door to the office, the young security officer took himself to hell and back several times, contemplating all the things he knew could happen to him besides the loss of his job.
"The door is locked?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'd say plan B is in order, wouldn't you?"
"Sir?"
"Break it in."
"Yes. Of course, sir. Immediately."
When the door finally yielded, the head of the Centre was discovered lying on the floor next to his coffee table, still clutching the picture of his late wife, his eyes closed and a vague smile on his lips as if he found the memories floating past his mind's eye far more pleasant than anything the world could offer.
"I can't wake him. Get Dr. Raines back here ASAP. Tell him Mister Parker's gravely ill."
"Yes, sir. If he wants details?"
"Tell him the truth. You don't have any."
"Yes, sir." the officer responded crisply, producing a cell phone and dialing rapidly.
"Great. I should have seen this coming.... should have caught it before it got this far. I'll have to clean up his mess now, I suppose. I just hope it doesn't smell too bad." he mumbled to himself as he loosened the other man's tie and collar then moved to the desk to summon medical assistance. "Officer. You go wait downstairs for Dr. Raines. Contact me the moment he arrives."
"Yes, sir. You'll be in renewal wing?"
"Most likely, but I'll fill you in when you call."
"Right, sir."
The security officer turned smartly and headed for the elevators. His superior dropped wearily into Parker's former chair to wait for the medics to show up.
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