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Chapter or Story
Part 3/Chapter 5
"Angel? Angel, where are you, baby? Are you alright? Come out where daddy can see you, Angel."
Cautiously entering the immersion cell, Jarod tuned one ear to his surroundings to be sure the audio from the DSA had cut out as it was supposed to, then refocused all of his attention on Parker and the lines Methos and Duncan had composed for the use of whoever ended up in the cell at the end, trying to reassure Parker back to life without destroying the illusion they'd created, at least not immediately.
"It's alright, Molly. Daddy's here, now. It's time to go home." he told her softly, moving with extreme slowness to allow his eyes to adjust and to avoid terrifying her. His deep concern for her ultimate welfare made the pace he had to maintain agonizing for him. When his eyes finally allowed him to perceive her shape huddled in a far corner, he resumed the scripted lines. "Angel? Come to daddy, angel. No more of this.... horrid place. I fixed everything. Come here, sweetheart. Come to daddy. It's alright."
Hating the pain he'd put her through, despite knowing there was really no other way she would ever have seen reason, Jarod stuck with the plan and made the same move the three men had concluded her father probably made all those years ago. Turning, he started out of the cell, then rushed back to her and swept her into his arms. When she didn't react immediately, he almost broke with the script, but caught himself in time and forced himself to be patient, whispering into her ear and rocking her slowly.
"Angel. C'mon, angel. Talk to your daddy. Please. Just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Please, angel. You're alright, daddy's angel. That's what my little Molly is. Daddy's sweet, precious angel...."
Jarod continued in this vein for another thirty minutes, finding he didn't have to fake any of the emotion behind his words, until she began to stir in his arms, at which point he pulled her to him a little tighter, knowing what was coming. "That's my girl. Daddy's here, angel. Look at me, baby. Look at daddy, baby...."
The battle, when it came, began suddenly and Jarod nearly lost it before he started, forgetting that he held a powerful, fully grown woman and not merely a frightened child.
Enduring solid blows to his arms and face and the continual echoes of 'I hate you, daddy' and 'you let her die, you let her die', Jarod began to speak the two phrases Methos hoped would now restore whatever memory the Centre, and her father, had stolen from her. He repeated them over and over, until her struggles weakened and he began to believe she was hearing his words.
"The walls have fallen, it's time to remember. The walls have fallen; it's time to remember. The walls have fallen, it's time to remember...."
Gradually, with effort and an expression that clearly revealed the scars on her soul, Parker looked up at Jarod through her own eyes.
"No... why did you do this to me...."
"Shhh. You're okay now. Relax."
As Methos had done for him twice before, Jarod now held Parker. With no more secrets to search for, with so many hidden horrors no longer locked away, she sought frantically for words to express her anguish, but could find none. She cried soundlessly, head buried deeply in Jarod's shoulder, until she had purged all she could for that moment in time and slowly pulled away, strong enough now to sit up on her own without his support, but not spurning the arm he left wrapped around her back.
"If you want to try and talk now..."
"No. Not now, maybe not ever. Just.... help me out of here. This foot.... I don't know if..."
"It's okay. I understand." he reassured her, slipping his arm away from her back, standing and moving in front of her. Crossing his hands one over the other, he offered them to her. She grasped them tightly and together they managed to get her into a standing position. For the next few moments, she leaned on the wall, while he switched from being a crane to being a crutch. "Okay. Lean on me as much as you need to, alright? Here we go."
Moving slowly, in deference to Parker's sore muscles, unsure balance and darkness adjusted eyesight, Jarod walked her into the living room and lowered her gently into a chair while he moved to the kitchen to find the other two.
"Methos? Duncan? Are you out here?"
Hearing their names, the two Immortals strolled in from the backyard.
"What's up?"
"How is she?"
"She's... emotionally, she's better. I left her in the living room. How's dinner coming? It smells fantastic."
"Alone?! You just.... left her in there.... alone?!?"
"I'm not stealing the DVD player for God's sake." Parker announced from the doorway behind Jarod as she limped/hopped a step into the kitchen. "I'm not running away, either. Not just yet, anyway. That does smell good. Steaks?"
"I told you to stay there and I'd come get you. You shouldn't be putting any weight on that foot."
"Yeah. Well, in case you haven't noticed, obeying isn't something I do well. I could smell the food all the way out there."
"And you're ravenous. You have a right to be." Methos said, striding purposefully forward and sweeping Parker into his arms and over to one of the chairs at the table before she could think, never mind protest. "Which foot?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you want dinner or not?" he asked her, a hint of a smile creeping over his lips.
"After those disgusting soy shakes? Damn right I want dinner." she replied, grimly pushing down the pain.
"Well? Which foot?"
"Left."
Heel first, Methos slid both of Parker's shoes off with extreme gentleness and care and began to examine the left instep.
"So. What happened?"
"I kicked the door a few times."
"A few. What's a few?"
"Twenty. Thirty. Who was coun-owwww!"
"Sorry. Checking for broken bones."
"And?"
"About twenty or thirty. One for each kick. Swelling, bruising. You've mucked it up well enough."
"Great. How long before it's back to normal?"
"Six, maybe eight weeks. These tiny bones almost never heal perfectly, though. You'll probably always have to be easy on it. Might limp a little if you push too hard. Look. I'm really sorry...."
"Don't. I'm the one who kicked the idiot door. I'll deal with the consequences of being an idiot. Besides. What you gave me... the foot is more than worth it."
"I can ace-bandage this, but you'll have to get a cast put on at first opportunity. Yes?"
"I understand."
Distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little worried that Parker was still in a mood to disembowel him, Duncan grabbed a platter and began to slide toward the door to the back patio to get the steaks. When she called to him over her shoulder he stopped, grinning broadly, his fears erased by the obvious amusement in her voice.
"Hey, tall dark and arrogant."
"Yes, deep, dark and dangerous?"
"Mine are rare, right?"
"Of course. What else?" he laughed as he exited the room.
"Do you want to do the bandage now, or after dinner?"
"You will stay in this chair for a while I assume? No more gallivanting off when someone tells you to stay put?"
"I don't guarantee anything..... but it's more than likely."
"Then a couple pain reliever should hold you until you can get some food in you."
"I don't guarantee that either."
"We can hope. Try two pills. If you need more, speak up and I'll get you something stronger, but that stomach of yours needs a delicate touch when it comes to meds, darlin'."
Vaguely, Parker considered throwing out a sharp retort about knowing perfectly well what her body needed, but Jarod distracted her. She watched him retrieve salad ingredients from the refrigerator, line them up neatly on the counter, then replace each in its proper spot after he was finished with it. The palpable tension flowing off his body was, she strongly suspected, somehow related to her, and the cause, whatever it might be, would have to be dealt with before it built a barrier between them that neither would be able to breach.
"Jarod. Come sit down by me."
"I'm not finished."
"Now. Please."
"No. We all need to eat right now. Whatever it is, it will wait."
As Methos was walking toward the counter to try and talk Jarod into stopping and getting the problem off his chest, Duncan re-entered with the steaks, the oven timer announced the ready state of Methos' famous garlic-chive bread sticks and any serious discussions were put on hold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I thought you'd be happy. As far as I was concerned you guys had as much chance of turning my head around as you would of spitting on Raines and living, but you did it, Jarod. I know the truth about my father.... about a lot of things, and it was truth I had a right to know. Derail the Jarod guilt express, would you?"
"You have to understand.... it's not all about this week. Part of me still believes if I'd made you go that night... if I'd gone with you...."
"Stop it, Jarod. Just stop, okay? I was thirteen. I would never have abandoned the only parent I had left, and you know that."
Walking up behind him, Methos reached out and tentatively laid an easy hand on Jarod's shoulder.
"Suffering in the name of a right cause, remember? She'll be alright, son."
When Jarod slowly removed the older man's hand and, without speaking, rose and began to gather dishes and silver for washing, Methos smiled tightly and tried to look as if he understood, though anyone who truly knew him could have easily read the truth in his eyes, as Duncan did when he emerged from the fridge with a fresh beer and wandered back to the table.
"Patience, remember? In time, you two will be as close as you ever were." Duncan reminded his best friend quietly, though he knew the words were falling on deaf ears.
"I'll gonna... head to bed I guess. Take the boots off before you come up, tonight, Highlander. You woke me up clodhopping upstairs in those monstrosities last evening."
For the briefest of moments, Duncan wanted to chase after him, drag him back and force him and Jarod to settle the matter, but immediately thought better of it and let him go.
"Jarod. You know how you asked me to answer your e-mail for you so you wouldn't have to deal with it until this whole thing was resolved? I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"What kind of man is Chris Broots? No kindnesses, no flowery praise. I need it straight up. What kind of person is he really?"
Surprised, Jarod halted in the middle of rinsing a plate, laid it down and turned to face Duncan.
"He's a good man. He loves his daughter more than his own life. He's strong.... and courageous. He can still trust despite all the years he's spent at the Centre. I think I could like him if we ever got to spend time together without Centre interference."
"Okay. That's enough of a testimonial for me."
"I'm glad, but what's all this about, Duncan?"
"Yes. I'd like to know too." Parker interjected, concern clouding her features. "Is he alright?"
"Not precisely. I got a message from your Sydney a day or two ago. It seems that, thanks to the Centre, Mister Broots has developed some.... bizarre abilities that would make him a prime target if his employers could get their hands on him. He's quite disturbed by whatever it is he can do and he needs a few weeks and a competent therapist, or pair of them, to help him cope. Sydney has asked that someone come out to Maryland, pick up your friend and get him someplace safe. I had volunteered Methos and myself. If you'd had anything negative to say I would have cried off, but since you didn't, I guess it's on."
"He deserves all the help we can give him. Is he safe for now?"
"Sounds like it. He's in hiding in a small monastery right in the middle of Blue Cove. The Centre thinks he's dead."
"Right under their noses. Very nice, Sydney." Parker mused. "When are you going?"
"In a few days. He should be well protected till then."
"Good. I should be ready to travel when you are." she murmured, trying to stand before she remembered she had a broken foot. "Damn!" she swore, quickly sitting again.
"Ready? You can't even walk on your own right now."
"Maybe, but I have enough credit cards to hire ten drivers for my gorgeous new convertible, never mind go to a drug store and buy a pair of crutches... and you need a distraction to keep all those microscopic Centre minds occupied."
"True enough. You sure you're willing to be that? It could get sticky."
"More than. Jarod. Can I get a shoulder to help me upstairs?"
"Of course. Always."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, Parker and Jarod sat together on the window-seat in the bedroom she'd chosen, she in the penoir set and robe she'd woken up in the first morning, he still in the clothes he'd worn to dinner. Off and on they talked quietly, but, for the most part, they allowed the silence to swallow them, finding no need to disturb it. When Jarod finally spoke up after a stretch of nearly forty minutes, it startled Parker slightly and she jumped, chuckling softly at herself.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...."
"It's okay. I know. What were you saying?"
"Nothing, really. I.... just wondered what you were thinking. You looked so sad, as if you couldn't find space inside for all the pain, but you were trying not to let it out either."
"That doesn't even half cover it." she responded bitterly. "Broots is in deep. If he doesn't get out of there soon, they'll find him, drag him back to the Centre.... and dissect him. I can finally accept what a.... manipulative, double-dealing con man my father really is. Sad? Sad is the least I have every right to be. You didn't look so zippedee-doo-dah yourself in the kitchen after dinner. What's up between you and.... what was it you called him?"
"Methos. He goes by Adam most of the time."
"Yeah. Adam. That's the name he gave me when he brought me here in the limo. So? What happened? Weren't you two best buddies?"
"Try and remember when I came to see you in the Pretender cubicle a day or two ago. Picture what was going on in the minutes just before you passed out."
"Damn. That's right! You were fading out too. You said... something strange. It made me wonder.... You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? Of course you did. This was your project from the start. So how did it get messed up?"
"It didn't. Methos pushed up the schedule. When he put you in the other cell.... he came back, locked the door, took my copy of the remote.... and just waited for me to wake up."
"You can't be serious."
Slowly, Jarod nodded his head.
"He did the same thing to me that we've been putting you through, in a greatly scaled down version, of course. I... when I put this hand through the window.... I had no clue why. I wasn't even aware of what I'd done." Jarod told her, staring down at his bandaged left hand and rubbing it absently as he talked. "I didn't know why I've been getting so angry lately, why I couldn't control it when I did.... He showed me why. I cried like a baby... told him things I've never told anyone, things I didn't even know I knew.... I understand, now. A lot of things are so much clearer...."
Reaching out, Parker laid her hands over his, caught, and held, his eyes and spoke the name he couldn't.
"Sydney?"
Her insight caught him a little by surprise. He sat an inch or two straighter, then, after a moment, gave her a genuine smile. "You want to hear something else you don't know? He hates himself for all of it. All the years of your life he wasted, all the pain you went through...Once he knew the truth, he couldn't help but despise what they turned him into. His brother, my mother, your family.... we've all lost precious people and time to that place, Jarod. We all have a score to settle.... but that will probably never happen."
"I'm not interested in revenge much, anymore. Besides, it's too late. The damage is done. He can regret whatever he wants for as long as he cares to. It won't change anything."
"Then we have to change. Listen." she stated muzzily, shaking herself when she realized she was much wearier than she'd been even a few minutes before. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"
"Of course. Go on."
"What do I do with all the.... memories, now? I'm not used to all this being in my head." she told him, covering an immense yawn.
"Use them. Cherish having more of Catherine to remember. That's enough for tonight. It's time for you to get some sleep. Let me help you over to the bed."
"No. I want to talk."
"Sleep. You need sleep. Let's go." he scolded her, lifting her to her feet and draping one of her arms over his shoulder.
"With all this running around in my brain, I'll never get any rest. Look. I'm a grown woman. I don't have to go to bed if I don't damn well want to!" she fussed as he moved her inexorably toward the bed in the middle of the room.
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. At least give it a shot...."
Abruptly Parker's face drained of all color and she began gasping for breath. Pulling away from Jarod's support, she tried to escape the room entirely and immediately fell to the floor. When Jarod rushed to try and comfort her, she lashed out at him for several seconds, mumbling incoherently and weeping as if she were in fear of her life. Despite her nails flashing only inches from his face, Jarod lifted her bodily onto the bed and sat close to her, trying anything to bring her down.
"Melissa! Stop it! It's me. It's just Jarod! You're alright. Calm down. It's okay. You're safe. Relax. That's it."
"Jarod. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't.... I wasn't here."
"I know. It's alright now. Do you want to tell me where you were?"
"The Centre. You know, the infirmary has always creeped me out. I've never liked going down there. Now I know why. I can't believe he'd let them.... him do that to me! I trusted him.... I was a child for God sakes! I was his child...."
Though he could feel her pain almost as deeply as she did, Jarod composed himself and gently urged her to continue.
"Who? What did he do?"
"Raines! I guess.... when you said shot.... that must have touched off the memory. Daddy.... after he pulled me out of that hole.... he let Raines inject me with Styx! God! No wonder I couldn't remember! Those two.... bastards tried to wipe out the better part of eight years of my life!"
Scooting closer, Jarod pulled her into the comforting circle of his arms. She went willingly, finding the burden of this new knowledge too much to bear alone and grateful that, even after all she'd put him through over the years, Jarod was still willing to take part of her pain on himself, still willing to be a friend.
When he finally lifted her away from his shoulder several minutes later, Parker was ninety percent of the way to being fully asleep and working diligently on the last ten percent. Laying her smoothly back onto the pillow, he watched her eyelids flutter as if she were fighting the pull of the rest she needed so badly and tried to quietly soothe her back under.
"No, no. Sleep, now. You're safe. Sleep."
"Stay. Just until I fall asleep."
"Alright. Now, go to sleep."
"Not unless you stay. I want to see you here when I wake up, you hear me? The exact second."
"I'll be here. Hush. Time to rest."
"Up here." she indicated groggily, patting the spot next to her on the bed. "Just as long as you don't get ideas. I might have a chance with Duncan. Never know..."
Standing, Jarod moved around the bed and climbed up beside Parker, his back against the headboard, one hand slowly stroking her hair to ease her into sleep.
"We made it to the white zone, Missy. You're safe here. Noone will hurt you. Sleep, now. White zone means peace...."
"Here find... the Police."
"Something like that. Shhh."
"There's a little black spot on my tie today...."
Pursing his lips tightly, Jarod barely managed not to laugh at her mangling of the song's lyrics.
"Missy, c'mon. I'd like to rest too, you know."
"King of stains.... always be king of stains...."
This time Jarod couldn't restrain himself.
"It's king of pain."
"What? It's not about a dry-cleaner?"
Wrapped in mutual mirth now, both decided to push sleep back a little longer. Jarod, eyes half closed, rifled through his fertile imagination and began to spin a fairy tale for Parker. Just as she had done as a little girl when he'd announced a story was due, she gazed into his face, enraptured with the images and words he plucked, seemingly from thin air, and utterly lost in the story. It was, of course, her story. Jarod ended it as all proper fairy tales end, with the rescue and redemption of the lost princess and happily ever after. Moments after the final syllable drifted off his tongue, both were deeply asleep, finally having found some measure of peace with their pasts, their futures and themselves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FOLLOWING MORNING: BLUE COVE
// "You know what will happen the minute you walk in that door, Abe. Try not to show them fear. Men like your Dr. Raines feed on fear. It's ambrosia to them."
"I know. I've prepared myself for every eventuality."
"Even death?"
"That's why I wanted to talk to you. Before I'll be able to get any sleep tonight... there are things I must tell someone. I don't expect or deserve absolution, Michael... I only ask you not to judge me."
"Every soul deserves absolution, Sydney. Some just find it hard to accept."
"Michael...."
"I know. Fine. Enough sermonizing. Begin whenever you're ready."
"I have sinned, father. I ask blessings, not for myself, but for those I care for. It's been three years since my last confession..." //
Seated in his car, Sydney stared out at the main parking lot for the Centre and tried to shake off the tension in his shoulders and the nausea caused by his growing fear. Rehashing the previous evening's conversation with Michael and his good-byes to Broots and Terri were the last stalling tactic he had left, so he used them only reluctantly.
When he knew he could wait no longer, he grasped his briefcase firmly and stepped out of the car, locking the doors behind him out of habit, even though he knew that if he'd left anything there he might care about losing, the point could soon be moot.
As he strolled into the ground floor lobby, the guard at the security desk gave him a brief look, dropped his eyes back to his desk then gazed at Sydney with far more interest.
"Sir. Please stay where you are. I have orders...."
"I know. I'll go willingly."
"I'm sorry, sir. I have no choice in this. I hope you understand." the guard told him as he approached, the handcuffs he carried gleaming in the late morning sun streaming through the glass doors behind Sydney. "Please, don't fight me, doctor. I've always respected you and you've never been anything but kind to me. If I had any leeway here..."
His expression falling as sorrow, regret and fear threatened to overwhelm him, Sydney allowed his case to drop to the floor and held out his hands. Despite his roiling emotions, he managed not to wince or turn his head as the metal restraints were locked around his wrists. "Are they too tight?"
"No. No, they're... just fine."
"Good. If you'd walk ahead of me, doctor?"
"Am I allowed to know where I'm being taken?"
"My orders are to place you in one of the lower level holding cells until Major Hilliard and the Triumvirate can be contacted."
"Hilliard? I don't know the name. It seems things have changed quite a bit since I've been gone."
"More than you know, doc. More than you could ever guess." the guard mumbled as the doors slid closed in front of the two men. This motion broke Sydney's resolve. This time he did turn his eyes away, suddenly sensing his chances of survival vanishing as sharply and completely as the world beyond the elevator just had. As the car began to drop, he found he was unable to convince himself that what awaited him at the end of the brief journey was not the flames of eternal torment and a cheery greeting from the prince of darkness himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In an anteroom a few yards from the holding cells, Raines argued for his role in Sydney's questioning, though the looks his superior was giving him said they both knew who would win.
"No, Raines. No more discussion. I'll interrogate Doctor Abelard. You have far too much emotion invested here to do the job properly. Besides, you have lost sheep to find. Go do it."
"I can break him, sir. Despite whatever posturing Sydney does for others' benefit, he is afraid of me.... afraid of what I can do to him. All I ask...."
"Raines."
His name, and the tone in which it was spoken, were all that was needed to gain Raines' immediate compliance.
"I understand, sir."
Once Raines had exited, Major Hilliard strolled to a small mirror on the left hand wall and spent a moment studying his reflection before allowing a hint of a satisfied smile to touch his mouth. Continuing out into the corridor, he briefly reviewed his plan for questioning Sydney Abelard, knowing he would have the truth from the man, but content not to set a time limit on getting it or to consider the final disposition of the nuisance the doctor had become. His unique sensibilities were quietly reminding him that he hadn't indulged himself in quite a while. Perhaps after he had the information the Tower required... and the good doctor had begged for release at least a few times, he'd decide how painful the man's last moments would be.
The Triumvirate had duly warned him that Abelard was stubborn, strong willed and wasn't likely to surrender easily. He hadn't bothered to tell them that he wouldn't have accepted the assignment if the subject had been anything less. Breaking spineless blobs of jelly was no challenge at all, and he never took on anything unless it promised a challenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A FEW HOURS LATER:
"Hilliard. Still with us, are you?"
"Yes, sir. Of course. We were discussing the interrogation, weren't we?"
"Mister Broots."
Lowering the volume on the speakerphone just a little in deference to the migraine he could feel on an approach vector, Major Hilliard rubbed his eyes and consulted his notes from the nine hours he'd just spent with Sydney.
"Oh, yes. My apologies, sir. Abelard is just as strong as you said, and highly intelligent. He quite wore me out. Well, let's see. Firstly, according to the good doctor, our missing comp-tech is dead."
"You can't be serious. When?"
"A day or two ago, if Abelard can be believed. His story is that the injury Broots received in the hit and run turned into a ruptured disk. He was rushed to the hospital and died on the table before they could even make an incision. Apparently he was given a heavy painkiller before they took him into the O.R... and he went into convulsions moments later. Nothing they tried worked and eventually, his heart stopped. All resuscitative efforts failed."
"We know he's lying. The report from the house proves it."
"I did ask about that. He claims he and Broots were in the ambulance at the time, so obviously his house was being burglarized. He even made me promise to check on any damage and report the incident to his insurance."
"I reiterate, he's lying."
"I considered it, but his grief is absolutely genuine. You can't fake the emotional impact of losing someone so close. He is holding back or lying about something.... but not about that."
When Raines chose that moment to glide into the anteroom, Hilliard picked up the receiver and irritatedly stabbed the button that disengaged the speakerphone. "No sir, we aren't. Unexpected company. Yes. Yes, I thought as much. Of course. Thank you, sir. No, I do appreciate being given this chance... and the responsibilities, yes, sir. No. It shouldn't even take a month to recover Jarod, sir, and within that month this place will be running efficiently and properly. As it should, yes, sir. No. I won't require any sweepers. They have their place, sir, it just isn't.... That's what he's used to, sir. A radical change in tactics is what I had in mind. No hordes of black cars and black suits, just Miss Parker and I and a pair of hand-held tranq guns should be all I'll need. And a new comp-tech. Of course. I do believe she will turn up, sir. Jarod has a code of ethics. It may not be ours, but we'll remedy that soon enough. He will release her when whatever he's attempting fails. She's far too strong to.... no, sir. I'm not finished with Sydney's debrief yet. I'll fax my initial report now, sir. Very good. God speed."
Standing, Hilliard gathered a few papers from the desk, strolled to the collection of machines behind him and began to fax his report to the Tower. "Yes, Raines. What is it?"
"Sydney...."
"You're not to be privy to that information."
"The Tower..."
"Yes, it's by their order."
"At least... his death. It will be lingering I hope?"
Turning back as the last page fed itself into the device, Hilliard frowned deeply at Raines, wondering if something other than oxygen flowed through the clear tubes into his lungs.
"Sometimes... you disturb me, Raines. Dr. Abelard and I have a few more issues to discuss before I make a final determination. And just in case you're considering throwing your two cents in on that subject, I'd keep it to yourself. Unless you really feel like joining Sydney in the holding cells, that is."
"Yes... sir."
"Progress report on the search for Miss Parker?"
"There's no sign... of either of them. Parker and Lyle have both disappeared off the face of the earth."
"I didn't ask about Lyle."
"No, sir, but..."
"Parker."
"Yes. The only information we have comes from Jarod and is therefore totally untrustworthy. She could be dead and buried and he'd tell us she's vacationing in Acapulco."
"I have to disagree. Jarod will lie to help others, but in all other situations, he'll either say nothing or tell the truth. He also abhors killing. There was only the one incident and that.... well, he was faced with Broots' death wasn't he? And the deaths of millions more, if he'd allowed Damon to go free. His conscience wouldn't stand for it."
"We still haven't been able to replace Damon. That's just one of many things I'd love to personally take out of Sydney's hide...."
"Now, you see, that's precisely what I was saying earlier. You're far too emotionally entangled in this situation. I'm taking over the search for Parker. You.... you go back to your dungeon and play with your experiments.... or whatever it is you do down there."
"I resent the implications of that statement... sir. I am a scientist of the highest order..."
"No, you were. Now you're an old man who's spent his life torturing children and adults because it's one of his great joys. And we've been paying you for it, as well."
"Mister Parker and I...."
".... are significant parts of the myriad problems this facility suffers from. He appears to have taken himself out of the big picture, and unless you get with the program, and damn fast, I've been authorized to do the same for you."
Beginning to push to his feet, Raines, his face brick red with anger, lips tinged blue from the stress on his breathing, started a protest but only managed a few words before Hilliard moved swiftly around the desk and, literally, got in his face, forcing him back into his seat.
"No. The Triumvirate would never...."
"Wouldn't they? Do you think there's a thing that you and Lyle have ever done here or anywhere that the Triumvirate doesn't know about? His little Asian.... hobby and the unauthorized black op he was running out of Blue Cove Hospital have made him a vulnerability the Tower can no longer afford. The search for him has been called off. Your failures haven't made you a liability on that scale yet, doctor, but they easily could. I'd say it's time for you to start being very quiet and very invisible until, and unless, you do something useful and miraculous to benefit the Centre's interests."
Finally straightening away from Raines, the major moved away toward the far corner of the room where a makeshift bar setup had been laid out and poured himself a small measure of sherry.
"Sir. As I came in I heard something about Jarod...."
"I'm taking over his retrieval, and the Centre as well, for that matter. Your current projects are on hold until I have a chance to look into all of them thoroughly. Those that meet with my approval will continue. I'll be giving you other assignments as time goes on."
"Sir... please don't do this. I can bring Jarod home...." Raines wheedled, rising all the way to his feet this time and moving toward where Hilliard stood.
"Stop. You aren't making my migraine any better, Raines. Go home, before I have to call the Tower back and tell them you can't even succeed at obeying a direct order."
"Yes, sir."
Once the doors were closed and secured behind Raines, Hilliard moved back to the desk and sat heavily in the padded chair, the weight of all he'd just taken on falling suddenly on his shoulders. Quickly dry-swallowing a pill to quash the full attack of the migraine, he leaned back and began to mentally redecorate Mister Parker's office to his taste, then, working out from there, restyled the entire Centre complex.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Angel? Angel, where are you, baby? Are you alright? Come out where daddy can see you, Angel."
Cautiously entering the immersion cell, Jarod tuned one ear to his surroundings to be sure the audio from the DSA had cut out as it was supposed to, then refocused all of his attention on Parker and the lines Methos and Duncan had composed for the use of whoever ended up in the cell at the end, trying to reassure Parker back to life without destroying the illusion they'd created, at least not immediately.
"It's alright, Molly. Daddy's here, now. It's time to go home." he told her softly, moving with extreme slowness to allow his eyes to adjust and to avoid terrifying her. His deep concern for her ultimate welfare made the pace he had to maintain agonizing for him. When his eyes finally allowed him to perceive her shape huddled in a far corner, he resumed the scripted lines. "Angel? Come to daddy, angel. No more of this.... horrid place. I fixed everything. Come here, sweetheart. Come to daddy. It's alright."
Hating the pain he'd put her through, despite knowing there was really no other way she would ever have seen reason, Jarod stuck with the plan and made the same move the three men had concluded her father probably made all those years ago. Turning, he started out of the cell, then rushed back to her and swept her into his arms. When she didn't react immediately, he almost broke with the script, but caught himself in time and forced himself to be patient, whispering into her ear and rocking her slowly.
"Angel. C'mon, angel. Talk to your daddy. Please. Just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Please, angel. You're alright, daddy's angel. That's what my little Molly is. Daddy's sweet, precious angel...."
Jarod continued in this vein for another thirty minutes, finding he didn't have to fake any of the emotion behind his words, until she began to stir in his arms, at which point he pulled her to him a little tighter, knowing what was coming. "That's my girl. Daddy's here, angel. Look at me, baby. Look at daddy, baby...."
The battle, when it came, began suddenly and Jarod nearly lost it before he started, forgetting that he held a powerful, fully grown woman and not merely a frightened child.
Enduring solid blows to his arms and face and the continual echoes of 'I hate you, daddy' and 'you let her die, you let her die', Jarod began to speak the two phrases Methos hoped would now restore whatever memory the Centre, and her father, had stolen from her. He repeated them over and over, until her struggles weakened and he began to believe she was hearing his words.
"The walls have fallen, it's time to remember. The walls have fallen; it's time to remember. The walls have fallen, it's time to remember...."
Gradually, with effort and an expression that clearly revealed the scars on her soul, Parker looked up at Jarod through her own eyes.
"No... why did you do this to me...."
"Shhh. You're okay now. Relax."
As Methos had done for him twice before, Jarod now held Parker. With no more secrets to search for, with so many hidden horrors no longer locked away, she sought frantically for words to express her anguish, but could find none. She cried soundlessly, head buried deeply in Jarod's shoulder, until she had purged all she could for that moment in time and slowly pulled away, strong enough now to sit up on her own without his support, but not spurning the arm he left wrapped around her back.
"If you want to try and talk now..."
"No. Not now, maybe not ever. Just.... help me out of here. This foot.... I don't know if..."
"It's okay. I understand." he reassured her, slipping his arm away from her back, standing and moving in front of her. Crossing his hands one over the other, he offered them to her. She grasped them tightly and together they managed to get her into a standing position. For the next few moments, she leaned on the wall, while he switched from being a crane to being a crutch. "Okay. Lean on me as much as you need to, alright? Here we go."
Moving slowly, in deference to Parker's sore muscles, unsure balance and darkness adjusted eyesight, Jarod walked her into the living room and lowered her gently into a chair while he moved to the kitchen to find the other two.
"Methos? Duncan? Are you out here?"
Hearing their names, the two Immortals strolled in from the backyard.
"What's up?"
"How is she?"
"She's... emotionally, she's better. I left her in the living room. How's dinner coming? It smells fantastic."
"Alone?! You just.... left her in there.... alone?!?"
"I'm not stealing the DVD player for God's sake." Parker announced from the doorway behind Jarod as she limped/hopped a step into the kitchen. "I'm not running away, either. Not just yet, anyway. That does smell good. Steaks?"
"I told you to stay there and I'd come get you. You shouldn't be putting any weight on that foot."
"Yeah. Well, in case you haven't noticed, obeying isn't something I do well. I could smell the food all the way out there."
"And you're ravenous. You have a right to be." Methos said, striding purposefully forward and sweeping Parker into his arms and over to one of the chairs at the table before she could think, never mind protest. "Which foot?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you want dinner or not?" he asked her, a hint of a smile creeping over his lips.
"After those disgusting soy shakes? Damn right I want dinner." she replied, grimly pushing down the pain.
"Well? Which foot?"
"Left."
Heel first, Methos slid both of Parker's shoes off with extreme gentleness and care and began to examine the left instep.
"So. What happened?"
"I kicked the door a few times."
"A few. What's a few?"
"Twenty. Thirty. Who was coun-owwww!"
"Sorry. Checking for broken bones."
"And?"
"About twenty or thirty. One for each kick. Swelling, bruising. You've mucked it up well enough."
"Great. How long before it's back to normal?"
"Six, maybe eight weeks. These tiny bones almost never heal perfectly, though. You'll probably always have to be easy on it. Might limp a little if you push too hard. Look. I'm really sorry...."
"Don't. I'm the one who kicked the idiot door. I'll deal with the consequences of being an idiot. Besides. What you gave me... the foot is more than worth it."
"I can ace-bandage this, but you'll have to get a cast put on at first opportunity. Yes?"
"I understand."
Distinctly uncomfortable and more than a little worried that Parker was still in a mood to disembowel him, Duncan grabbed a platter and began to slide toward the door to the back patio to get the steaks. When she called to him over her shoulder he stopped, grinning broadly, his fears erased by the obvious amusement in her voice.
"Hey, tall dark and arrogant."
"Yes, deep, dark and dangerous?"
"Mine are rare, right?"
"Of course. What else?" he laughed as he exited the room.
"Do you want to do the bandage now, or after dinner?"
"You will stay in this chair for a while I assume? No more gallivanting off when someone tells you to stay put?"
"I don't guarantee anything..... but it's more than likely."
"Then a couple pain reliever should hold you until you can get some food in you."
"I don't guarantee that either."
"We can hope. Try two pills. If you need more, speak up and I'll get you something stronger, but that stomach of yours needs a delicate touch when it comes to meds, darlin'."
Vaguely, Parker considered throwing out a sharp retort about knowing perfectly well what her body needed, but Jarod distracted her. She watched him retrieve salad ingredients from the refrigerator, line them up neatly on the counter, then replace each in its proper spot after he was finished with it. The palpable tension flowing off his body was, she strongly suspected, somehow related to her, and the cause, whatever it might be, would have to be dealt with before it built a barrier between them that neither would be able to breach.
"Jarod. Come sit down by me."
"I'm not finished."
"Now. Please."
"No. We all need to eat right now. Whatever it is, it will wait."
As Methos was walking toward the counter to try and talk Jarod into stopping and getting the problem off his chest, Duncan re-entered with the steaks, the oven timer announced the ready state of Methos' famous garlic-chive bread sticks and any serious discussions were put on hold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I thought you'd be happy. As far as I was concerned you guys had as much chance of turning my head around as you would of spitting on Raines and living, but you did it, Jarod. I know the truth about my father.... about a lot of things, and it was truth I had a right to know. Derail the Jarod guilt express, would you?"
"You have to understand.... it's not all about this week. Part of me still believes if I'd made you go that night... if I'd gone with you...."
"Stop it, Jarod. Just stop, okay? I was thirteen. I would never have abandoned the only parent I had left, and you know that."
Walking up behind him, Methos reached out and tentatively laid an easy hand on Jarod's shoulder.
"Suffering in the name of a right cause, remember? She'll be alright, son."
When Jarod slowly removed the older man's hand and, without speaking, rose and began to gather dishes and silver for washing, Methos smiled tightly and tried to look as if he understood, though anyone who truly knew him could have easily read the truth in his eyes, as Duncan did when he emerged from the fridge with a fresh beer and wandered back to the table.
"Patience, remember? In time, you two will be as close as you ever were." Duncan reminded his best friend quietly, though he knew the words were falling on deaf ears.
"I'll gonna... head to bed I guess. Take the boots off before you come up, tonight, Highlander. You woke me up clodhopping upstairs in those monstrosities last evening."
For the briefest of moments, Duncan wanted to chase after him, drag him back and force him and Jarod to settle the matter, but immediately thought better of it and let him go.
"Jarod. You know how you asked me to answer your e-mail for you so you wouldn't have to deal with it until this whole thing was resolved? I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"What kind of man is Chris Broots? No kindnesses, no flowery praise. I need it straight up. What kind of person is he really?"
Surprised, Jarod halted in the middle of rinsing a plate, laid it down and turned to face Duncan.
"He's a good man. He loves his daughter more than his own life. He's strong.... and courageous. He can still trust despite all the years he's spent at the Centre. I think I could like him if we ever got to spend time together without Centre interference."
"Okay. That's enough of a testimonial for me."
"I'm glad, but what's all this about, Duncan?"
"Yes. I'd like to know too." Parker interjected, concern clouding her features. "Is he alright?"
"Not precisely. I got a message from your Sydney a day or two ago. It seems that, thanks to the Centre, Mister Broots has developed some.... bizarre abilities that would make him a prime target if his employers could get their hands on him. He's quite disturbed by whatever it is he can do and he needs a few weeks and a competent therapist, or pair of them, to help him cope. Sydney has asked that someone come out to Maryland, pick up your friend and get him someplace safe. I had volunteered Methos and myself. If you'd had anything negative to say I would have cried off, but since you didn't, I guess it's on."
"He deserves all the help we can give him. Is he safe for now?"
"Sounds like it. He's in hiding in a small monastery right in the middle of Blue Cove. The Centre thinks he's dead."
"Right under their noses. Very nice, Sydney." Parker mused. "When are you going?"
"In a few days. He should be well protected till then."
"Good. I should be ready to travel when you are." she murmured, trying to stand before she remembered she had a broken foot. "Damn!" she swore, quickly sitting again.
"Ready? You can't even walk on your own right now."
"Maybe, but I have enough credit cards to hire ten drivers for my gorgeous new convertible, never mind go to a drug store and buy a pair of crutches... and you need a distraction to keep all those microscopic Centre minds occupied."
"True enough. You sure you're willing to be that? It could get sticky."
"More than. Jarod. Can I get a shoulder to help me upstairs?"
"Of course. Always."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, Parker and Jarod sat together on the window-seat in the bedroom she'd chosen, she in the penoir set and robe she'd woken up in the first morning, he still in the clothes he'd worn to dinner. Off and on they talked quietly, but, for the most part, they allowed the silence to swallow them, finding no need to disturb it. When Jarod finally spoke up after a stretch of nearly forty minutes, it startled Parker slightly and she jumped, chuckling softly at herself.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...."
"It's okay. I know. What were you saying?"
"Nothing, really. I.... just wondered what you were thinking. You looked so sad, as if you couldn't find space inside for all the pain, but you were trying not to let it out either."
"That doesn't even half cover it." she responded bitterly. "Broots is in deep. If he doesn't get out of there soon, they'll find him, drag him back to the Centre.... and dissect him. I can finally accept what a.... manipulative, double-dealing con man my father really is. Sad? Sad is the least I have every right to be. You didn't look so zippedee-doo-dah yourself in the kitchen after dinner. What's up between you and.... what was it you called him?"
"Methos. He goes by Adam most of the time."
"Yeah. Adam. That's the name he gave me when he brought me here in the limo. So? What happened? Weren't you two best buddies?"
"Try and remember when I came to see you in the Pretender cubicle a day or two ago. Picture what was going on in the minutes just before you passed out."
"Damn. That's right! You were fading out too. You said... something strange. It made me wonder.... You knew it was going to happen, didn't you? Of course you did. This was your project from the start. So how did it get messed up?"
"It didn't. Methos pushed up the schedule. When he put you in the other cell.... he came back, locked the door, took my copy of the remote.... and just waited for me to wake up."
"You can't be serious."
Slowly, Jarod nodded his head.
"He did the same thing to me that we've been putting you through, in a greatly scaled down version, of course. I... when I put this hand through the window.... I had no clue why. I wasn't even aware of what I'd done." Jarod told her, staring down at his bandaged left hand and rubbing it absently as he talked. "I didn't know why I've been getting so angry lately, why I couldn't control it when I did.... He showed me why. I cried like a baby... told him things I've never told anyone, things I didn't even know I knew.... I understand, now. A lot of things are so much clearer...."
Reaching out, Parker laid her hands over his, caught, and held, his eyes and spoke the name he couldn't.
"Sydney?"
Her insight caught him a little by surprise. He sat an inch or two straighter, then, after a moment, gave her a genuine smile. "You want to hear something else you don't know? He hates himself for all of it. All the years of your life he wasted, all the pain you went through...Once he knew the truth, he couldn't help but despise what they turned him into. His brother, my mother, your family.... we've all lost precious people and time to that place, Jarod. We all have a score to settle.... but that will probably never happen."
"I'm not interested in revenge much, anymore. Besides, it's too late. The damage is done. He can regret whatever he wants for as long as he cares to. It won't change anything."
"Then we have to change. Listen." she stated muzzily, shaking herself when she realized she was much wearier than she'd been even a few minutes before. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"
"Of course. Go on."
"What do I do with all the.... memories, now? I'm not used to all this being in my head." she told him, covering an immense yawn.
"Use them. Cherish having more of Catherine to remember. That's enough for tonight. It's time for you to get some sleep. Let me help you over to the bed."
"No. I want to talk."
"Sleep. You need sleep. Let's go." he scolded her, lifting her to her feet and draping one of her arms over his shoulder.
"With all this running around in my brain, I'll never get any rest. Look. I'm a grown woman. I don't have to go to bed if I don't damn well want to!" she fussed as he moved her inexorably toward the bed in the middle of the room.
"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. At least give it a shot...."
Abruptly Parker's face drained of all color and she began gasping for breath. Pulling away from Jarod's support, she tried to escape the room entirely and immediately fell to the floor. When Jarod rushed to try and comfort her, she lashed out at him for several seconds, mumbling incoherently and weeping as if she were in fear of her life. Despite her nails flashing only inches from his face, Jarod lifted her bodily onto the bed and sat close to her, trying anything to bring her down.
"Melissa! Stop it! It's me. It's just Jarod! You're alright. Calm down. It's okay. You're safe. Relax. That's it."
"Jarod. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't.... I wasn't here."
"I know. It's alright now. Do you want to tell me where you were?"
"The Centre. You know, the infirmary has always creeped me out. I've never liked going down there. Now I know why. I can't believe he'd let them.... him do that to me! I trusted him.... I was a child for God sakes! I was his child...."
Though he could feel her pain almost as deeply as she did, Jarod composed himself and gently urged her to continue.
"Who? What did he do?"
"Raines! I guess.... when you said shot.... that must have touched off the memory. Daddy.... after he pulled me out of that hole.... he let Raines inject me with Styx! God! No wonder I couldn't remember! Those two.... bastards tried to wipe out the better part of eight years of my life!"
Scooting closer, Jarod pulled her into the comforting circle of his arms. She went willingly, finding the burden of this new knowledge too much to bear alone and grateful that, even after all she'd put him through over the years, Jarod was still willing to take part of her pain on himself, still willing to be a friend.
When he finally lifted her away from his shoulder several minutes later, Parker was ninety percent of the way to being fully asleep and working diligently on the last ten percent. Laying her smoothly back onto the pillow, he watched her eyelids flutter as if she were fighting the pull of the rest she needed so badly and tried to quietly soothe her back under.
"No, no. Sleep, now. You're safe. Sleep."
"Stay. Just until I fall asleep."
"Alright. Now, go to sleep."
"Not unless you stay. I want to see you here when I wake up, you hear me? The exact second."
"I'll be here. Hush. Time to rest."
"Up here." she indicated groggily, patting the spot next to her on the bed. "Just as long as you don't get ideas. I might have a chance with Duncan. Never know..."
Standing, Jarod moved around the bed and climbed up beside Parker, his back against the headboard, one hand slowly stroking her hair to ease her into sleep.
"We made it to the white zone, Missy. You're safe here. Noone will hurt you. Sleep, now. White zone means peace...."
"Here find... the Police."
"Something like that. Shhh."
"There's a little black spot on my tie today...."
Pursing his lips tightly, Jarod barely managed not to laugh at her mangling of the song's lyrics.
"Missy, c'mon. I'd like to rest too, you know."
"King of stains.... always be king of stains...."
This time Jarod couldn't restrain himself.
"It's king of pain."
"What? It's not about a dry-cleaner?"
Wrapped in mutual mirth now, both decided to push sleep back a little longer. Jarod, eyes half closed, rifled through his fertile imagination and began to spin a fairy tale for Parker. Just as she had done as a little girl when he'd announced a story was due, she gazed into his face, enraptured with the images and words he plucked, seemingly from thin air, and utterly lost in the story. It was, of course, her story. Jarod ended it as all proper fairy tales end, with the rescue and redemption of the lost princess and happily ever after. Moments after the final syllable drifted off his tongue, both were deeply asleep, finally having found some measure of peace with their pasts, their futures and themselves.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FOLLOWING MORNING: BLUE COVE
// "You know what will happen the minute you walk in that door, Abe. Try not to show them fear. Men like your Dr. Raines feed on fear. It's ambrosia to them."
"I know. I've prepared myself for every eventuality."
"Even death?"
"That's why I wanted to talk to you. Before I'll be able to get any sleep tonight... there are things I must tell someone. I don't expect or deserve absolution, Michael... I only ask you not to judge me."
"Every soul deserves absolution, Sydney. Some just find it hard to accept."
"Michael...."
"I know. Fine. Enough sermonizing. Begin whenever you're ready."
"I have sinned, father. I ask blessings, not for myself, but for those I care for. It's been three years since my last confession..." //
Seated in his car, Sydney stared out at the main parking lot for the Centre and tried to shake off the tension in his shoulders and the nausea caused by his growing fear. Rehashing the previous evening's conversation with Michael and his good-byes to Broots and Terri were the last stalling tactic he had left, so he used them only reluctantly.
When he knew he could wait no longer, he grasped his briefcase firmly and stepped out of the car, locking the doors behind him out of habit, even though he knew that if he'd left anything there he might care about losing, the point could soon be moot.
As he strolled into the ground floor lobby, the guard at the security desk gave him a brief look, dropped his eyes back to his desk then gazed at Sydney with far more interest.
"Sir. Please stay where you are. I have orders...."
"I know. I'll go willingly."
"I'm sorry, sir. I have no choice in this. I hope you understand." the guard told him as he approached, the handcuffs he carried gleaming in the late morning sun streaming through the glass doors behind Sydney. "Please, don't fight me, doctor. I've always respected you and you've never been anything but kind to me. If I had any leeway here..."
His expression falling as sorrow, regret and fear threatened to overwhelm him, Sydney allowed his case to drop to the floor and held out his hands. Despite his roiling emotions, he managed not to wince or turn his head as the metal restraints were locked around his wrists. "Are they too tight?"
"No. No, they're... just fine."
"Good. If you'd walk ahead of me, doctor?"
"Am I allowed to know where I'm being taken?"
"My orders are to place you in one of the lower level holding cells until Major Hilliard and the Triumvirate can be contacted."
"Hilliard? I don't know the name. It seems things have changed quite a bit since I've been gone."
"More than you know, doc. More than you could ever guess." the guard mumbled as the doors slid closed in front of the two men. This motion broke Sydney's resolve. This time he did turn his eyes away, suddenly sensing his chances of survival vanishing as sharply and completely as the world beyond the elevator just had. As the car began to drop, he found he was unable to convince himself that what awaited him at the end of the brief journey was not the flames of eternal torment and a cheery greeting from the prince of darkness himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In an anteroom a few yards from the holding cells, Raines argued for his role in Sydney's questioning, though the looks his superior was giving him said they both knew who would win.
"No, Raines. No more discussion. I'll interrogate Doctor Abelard. You have far too much emotion invested here to do the job properly. Besides, you have lost sheep to find. Go do it."
"I can break him, sir. Despite whatever posturing Sydney does for others' benefit, he is afraid of me.... afraid of what I can do to him. All I ask...."
"Raines."
His name, and the tone in which it was spoken, were all that was needed to gain Raines' immediate compliance.
"I understand, sir."
Once Raines had exited, Major Hilliard strolled to a small mirror on the left hand wall and spent a moment studying his reflection before allowing a hint of a satisfied smile to touch his mouth. Continuing out into the corridor, he briefly reviewed his plan for questioning Sydney Abelard, knowing he would have the truth from the man, but content not to set a time limit on getting it or to consider the final disposition of the nuisance the doctor had become. His unique sensibilities were quietly reminding him that he hadn't indulged himself in quite a while. Perhaps after he had the information the Tower required... and the good doctor had begged for release at least a few times, he'd decide how painful the man's last moments would be.
The Triumvirate had duly warned him that Abelard was stubborn, strong willed and wasn't likely to surrender easily. He hadn't bothered to tell them that he wouldn't have accepted the assignment if the subject had been anything less. Breaking spineless blobs of jelly was no challenge at all, and he never took on anything unless it promised a challenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A FEW HOURS LATER:
"Hilliard. Still with us, are you?"
"Yes, sir. Of course. We were discussing the interrogation, weren't we?"
"Mister Broots."
Lowering the volume on the speakerphone just a little in deference to the migraine he could feel on an approach vector, Major Hilliard rubbed his eyes and consulted his notes from the nine hours he'd just spent with Sydney.
"Oh, yes. My apologies, sir. Abelard is just as strong as you said, and highly intelligent. He quite wore me out. Well, let's see. Firstly, according to the good doctor, our missing comp-tech is dead."
"You can't be serious. When?"
"A day or two ago, if Abelard can be believed. His story is that the injury Broots received in the hit and run turned into a ruptured disk. He was rushed to the hospital and died on the table before they could even make an incision. Apparently he was given a heavy painkiller before they took him into the O.R... and he went into convulsions moments later. Nothing they tried worked and eventually, his heart stopped. All resuscitative efforts failed."
"We know he's lying. The report from the house proves it."
"I did ask about that. He claims he and Broots were in the ambulance at the time, so obviously his house was being burglarized. He even made me promise to check on any damage and report the incident to his insurance."
"I reiterate, he's lying."
"I considered it, but his grief is absolutely genuine. You can't fake the emotional impact of losing someone so close. He is holding back or lying about something.... but not about that."
When Raines chose that moment to glide into the anteroom, Hilliard picked up the receiver and irritatedly stabbed the button that disengaged the speakerphone. "No sir, we aren't. Unexpected company. Yes. Yes, I thought as much. Of course. Thank you, sir. No, I do appreciate being given this chance... and the responsibilities, yes, sir. No. It shouldn't even take a month to recover Jarod, sir, and within that month this place will be running efficiently and properly. As it should, yes, sir. No. I won't require any sweepers. They have their place, sir, it just isn't.... That's what he's used to, sir. A radical change in tactics is what I had in mind. No hordes of black cars and black suits, just Miss Parker and I and a pair of hand-held tranq guns should be all I'll need. And a new comp-tech. Of course. I do believe she will turn up, sir. Jarod has a code of ethics. It may not be ours, but we'll remedy that soon enough. He will release her when whatever he's attempting fails. She's far too strong to.... no, sir. I'm not finished with Sydney's debrief yet. I'll fax my initial report now, sir. Very good. God speed."
Standing, Hilliard gathered a few papers from the desk, strolled to the collection of machines behind him and began to fax his report to the Tower. "Yes, Raines. What is it?"
"Sydney...."
"You're not to be privy to that information."
"The Tower..."
"Yes, it's by their order."
"At least... his death. It will be lingering I hope?"
Turning back as the last page fed itself into the device, Hilliard frowned deeply at Raines, wondering if something other than oxygen flowed through the clear tubes into his lungs.
"Sometimes... you disturb me, Raines. Dr. Abelard and I have a few more issues to discuss before I make a final determination. And just in case you're considering throwing your two cents in on that subject, I'd keep it to yourself. Unless you really feel like joining Sydney in the holding cells, that is."
"Yes... sir."
"Progress report on the search for Miss Parker?"
"There's no sign... of either of them. Parker and Lyle have both disappeared off the face of the earth."
"I didn't ask about Lyle."
"No, sir, but..."
"Parker."
"Yes. The only information we have comes from Jarod and is therefore totally untrustworthy. She could be dead and buried and he'd tell us she's vacationing in Acapulco."
"I have to disagree. Jarod will lie to help others, but in all other situations, he'll either say nothing or tell the truth. He also abhors killing. There was only the one incident and that.... well, he was faced with Broots' death wasn't he? And the deaths of millions more, if he'd allowed Damon to go free. His conscience wouldn't stand for it."
"We still haven't been able to replace Damon. That's just one of many things I'd love to personally take out of Sydney's hide...."
"Now, you see, that's precisely what I was saying earlier. You're far too emotionally entangled in this situation. I'm taking over the search for Parker. You.... you go back to your dungeon and play with your experiments.... or whatever it is you do down there."
"I resent the implications of that statement... sir. I am a scientist of the highest order..."
"No, you were. Now you're an old man who's spent his life torturing children and adults because it's one of his great joys. And we've been paying you for it, as well."
"Mister Parker and I...."
".... are significant parts of the myriad problems this facility suffers from. He appears to have taken himself out of the big picture, and unless you get with the program, and damn fast, I've been authorized to do the same for you."
Beginning to push to his feet, Raines, his face brick red with anger, lips tinged blue from the stress on his breathing, started a protest but only managed a few words before Hilliard moved swiftly around the desk and, literally, got in his face, forcing him back into his seat.
"No. The Triumvirate would never...."
"Wouldn't they? Do you think there's a thing that you and Lyle have ever done here or anywhere that the Triumvirate doesn't know about? His little Asian.... hobby and the unauthorized black op he was running out of Blue Cove Hospital have made him a vulnerability the Tower can no longer afford. The search for him has been called off. Your failures haven't made you a liability on that scale yet, doctor, but they easily could. I'd say it's time for you to start being very quiet and very invisible until, and unless, you do something useful and miraculous to benefit the Centre's interests."
Finally straightening away from Raines, the major moved away toward the far corner of the room where a makeshift bar setup had been laid out and poured himself a small measure of sherry.
"Sir. As I came in I heard something about Jarod...."
"I'm taking over his retrieval, and the Centre as well, for that matter. Your current projects are on hold until I have a chance to look into all of them thoroughly. Those that meet with my approval will continue. I'll be giving you other assignments as time goes on."
"Sir... please don't do this. I can bring Jarod home...." Raines wheedled, rising all the way to his feet this time and moving toward where Hilliard stood.
"Stop. You aren't making my migraine any better, Raines. Go home, before I have to call the Tower back and tell them you can't even succeed at obeying a direct order."
"Yes, sir."
Once the doors were closed and secured behind Raines, Hilliard moved back to the desk and sat heavily in the padded chair, the weight of all he'd just taken on falling suddenly on his shoulders. Quickly dry-swallowing a pill to quash the full attack of the migraine, he leaned back and began to mentally redecorate Mister Parker's office to his taste, then, working out from there, restyled the entire Centre complex.
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