Chapter 30

Miss Parker studied herself in the bathroom mirror and reflected that this was the first Monday morning in a long time that she didn't feel a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Because she didn't have to go to the Centre. She didn't have to brace herself for another day of fighting through frustrations, ferreting out secrets, and fending off threats. No wonder she'd gotten an ulcer working at that place.

Her biggest concern at the moment was if she was appropriately dressed for another day in the country, a decision she happily had to make because she'd finally convinced Jarod to take her into town yesterday to do some shopping. As expected, she didn't find any high fashion boutiques, and the big discount store had only had a limited supply of summer clothes left in stock. Somehow she had managed to purchase a few items that let her put together an outfit slightly more stylish than the plain tank tops and old pair of jeans she'd been forced to wear all week.

The navy tank with matching lace trim at the neck and hem was a definite improvement, she decided. The white shorts were appropriate for the season, and the faux leather sandals with two-inch heels felt better on her feet than the flats she'd been wearing. The cosmetics she'd bought helped to complete the look. Never one to use a heavy hand with the blush brush, she discovered a week outside in the sun had given her cheeks a rosy glow that made even a light dusting unnecessary. But she did apply some eye shadow and do a quick swipe of mascara, and it felt divine to have a choice of lip gloss colors this morning.

With everything that had happened in her life recently, it seemed slightly surreal to be so concerned about her appearance; especially since the only person who'd see her would be Jarod. She noticed the smile that came over her face at the thought and realized it felt good to finally have someone to dress for.

But it had been only one week ago when she'd tried to look her "best" for her confrontation with Lyle. Her smile faded, her eyes widening slightly at the unpleasant memory. Damn it, how long would she ambushed by these thoughts of her wretched brother?

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was not going to let bad memories ruin her first hopeful Monday in ages or waste her first halfway decent outfit in a week. She gave herself one more appraising glance, liked what she saw, and hurried downstairs to get Jarod's reaction to her new outfit.

He wasn't in the kitchen, but she took the time to have a quick cup of coffee before she went looking for him. For some strange reason, her morning dose of caffeine worked wonders at calming the post-traumatic jitters, perhaps because it was a part of her normal routine and therefore comforting.

She found Jarod sitting on the top porch step, his back to her. She tried to silently come up behind him, but the screen door squeaked as she opened it. Still, Jarod didn't even glance her way. Trying to ignore the niggling of unease his lack of response generated, she bent over him, sliding her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Strange to realize how natural the gesture seemed, how only a week ago she would never have casually touched him in this way.

Especially on the back of his neck. Their first night together they'd enjoyed exploring every part of each other's bodies, but she'd shied away from the scar just beneath his hairline, sickened by the reason for that mark. Then Jarod had told her that he'd had the implant removed by a skilled neurosurgeon he knew; he would never have been able to put his plan into motion and face Lyle if that device had still been inside him. Miss Parker had felt an almost giddy relief upon hearing that and had thrown herself into their love-making with a renewed passionate zeal.

Now she had no qualms about touching the small red welt on his neck, caressing this badge of courage gently as she leaned into him. "Good morning," she murmured.

Then she felt the stubble on his face and the tension in his shoulders and knew, even before his lackluster return greeting, that something was definitely wrong. "What is it, Jarod?" She noticed the computer in his lap and quickly straightened. "Were you speaking to Sydney again? Has something happened at the Centre? Is my father okay?" She moved around him and down the steps so she could see his face when he answered, trying to keep her own skittering emotions from showing.

He swung a bleary gaze her way. "As far as I know, everything's fine… well, everything's the same as always, at the Centre." His voice was weary. "The bad news comes from the real world."

He paused, and she waited in silence, wondering what disaster could upset him so much.

His eyes dropped to his laptop. "I found a report on the internet about a new deadly virus in Africa."

"A virus?" she echoed faintly.

"Several villages have been affected, hundreds are sick, and there are confirmed reports of fatalities." His voice was controlled, like he was giving a news report, but she could still feel his pain behind each word.

She knew the reason. "Are you sure this is the same virus that Lyle…?"

Jarod nodded. "The outbreak is in a region near the Triumverate's base of operations, an area where the local leaders have been resistant to Mutumbo's control." He slammed the lid of his computer shut and thrust it away from him, letting it land with a thud onto the porch floor next to him. "I shouldn't be surprised," he went on bitterly. "This isn't the first time one of my sims was used to hurt innocent people. It's not even the first time a virus I created was used to kill. I don't know why I expected any different…" He stared, unseeing, out across the lawn and down at the pond where morning mist hovered wraithlike over the water's surface.

This is exactly what Jarod had feared would happen if he developed an antidote for the virus, the reason he refused to do it. Until Lyle injected me with the virus, Miss Parker thought. She had to lean back against the wood railing as a wave of guilt pressed down upon her. "I'm sorry, Jarod," she whispered.

He abruptly focused on her. "Don't apologize," he said sharply. "I have no regrets about what I had to do to save your life."

Of course he'd say that, and she believed he meant it, but that didn't lessen the pain he was feeling now that his good work had been used for evil purposes. Again.

She wished she knew what to say to make him feel better. She felt at a loss, suddenly keenly aware of her lack of experience in this area. She'd never had a close friend who would come to her for advice, and she certainly didn't have a degree in psychology and couldn't pretend she did.

"Maybe you should call Sydney," she ventured.

Jarod shook his head. "With the amount of scrutiny he'd under, it's best to limit our contact. Besides, he wouldn't be able to do anything to help in this situation."

How many people could help in a situation involving the outbreak of a deadly virus half a world away? Only Jarod…

Which made her think of something. "Jarod, if this is the same virus Lyle brought to the Centre, then you've already discovered the cure," she said. Then she frowned. "That was only a few months ago. Wouldn't the doctors in Africa still have that information? How could this new epidemic even happen?"

"This must be a new strain, one that the Triumverate engineered with the molecular details I provided, details that Lyle passed on to them. I'm sure they already have an antidote for this virus, one that they will make available for the right price." He looked sick at the thought.

And angry, Miss Parker noted. Good. She didn't know how to comfort a defeated, despairing Jarod, but if he was starting to get mad, she could work with that. Like her, when faced with a problem, he preferred to take action. She just needed to suggest a course of action that would appeal to him.

"Then you need to get the antidote to the proper authorities first," she said firmly, "before Mutumbo's organization has a chance to do so."

His eyes lit with interest. "Well, the CDC should be sending a team to Africa," he said thoughtfully. "I could fake some credentials and go with them." He reached for his computer. "If the new virus isn't too different, I should be able to steer the other virologists to an antidote fairly quickly. Of course, I'll have to be careful not to arouse suspicion. The last thing I want to do is distract the bona fide health officials from their work. Let's see…" His fingers flew over the keyboard.

Miss Parker realized she had never witnessed Jarod in the process of planning one of his Pretends. Most people would label what he'd just said as delusional, but she knew he was capable of pulling off such a plan. And he knew it, too. She could feel his confidence.

Mentally patting herself on the back for successfully pulling him out of his doldrums, she murmured, "You can do this, Jarod," before thinking how lame that sounded, like a silly cheerleader. Seeing the way he was focused on his computer screen, she knew he didn't need any more encouragement.

But then his fingers stilled on the keys. "No, I can't," he said, slowly closing the lid of his laptop.

Did he really need another nudge to do the right thing? "What do you mean?" she said with a touch of exasperation. "This is what you do best, Jarod. You insert yourself into the lives of total strangers, save the day, and then move on to your next mission of mercy."

"Not this time. Right now I'm needed here by the people I know and l-" He shook his head. "Those strangers will just have to fend for themselves."

"You can't be serious."

"Sydney told me once that I can't save everyone." He sighed and ran agitated hands through his hair. "He's right."

"These aren't just some random victims! These poor people are sick because of what you- what the Centre did!" She knew her words were hurting him, but he'd be lost in a world of pain if he didn't do something about this virus. "You have a moral responsibility to try to fix this!"

He grabbed his laptop, and she thought she'd gotten through to him, but he just tucked it under his arm, stood up, and stomped down the few steps to her level. "I'm not leaving you," he said, a stubborn set to his jaw.

Oh, no you don't. She would not be used as an excuse, only to be resented later when he regretted his decision. "What if I promise to be a good girl and stay here in hiding until you get back?"

He winced slightly at her sarcastic tone. "I'm not Superman!" he exclaimed. "I can't just fly halfway around the world, solve a crisis over there, and still get back in time to help you if you suddenly need me here!"

"Well, I'm not Lois Lane," she snapped, glaring at him. "I don't pretend to be tough but secretly yearn for a hero to rescue me! I can take care of myself!"

Jarod opened his mouth then shut it again. His brown eyes turned hard, and his face morphed into that cold mask she detested. "I need to take a walk," he said and struck out across the lawn.

Well, that could have gone better. As Miss Parker watched Jarod stalk away, she reflected sourly that she'd been right; she made a terrible therapist and an even worse friend.

The morning mist had congealed into a sticky summer haze a few hours later when Miss Parker left the house in search of Jarod. She told herself it was the oppressive humidity that made her steps drag as she crossed the drive and headed for the barn. She wasn't afraid to face Jarod after their earlier argument; she was seeking him out, wasn't she?

Once inside the interior of the white clapboard building, she paused at the bottom of the narrow staircase that led to the loft. She was certain Jarod was up there, in the place where his family had hidden from the Centre all those years ago. The place he'd visited several times this week, while she had watched from a farmhouse window.

Her reluctance to follow him in here stemmed from the twinge of guilt she felt every time she thought of his family being torn apart. Of course, she'd had nothing to do with the original kidnapping, but she did regret her determined pursuit of him that had severely hampered his attempts to reunite with his loved ones. She was less than eager to stand in the very place where two terrified and heartbroken parents had struggled to go on without their sons. She wasn't sure what scared her more: finding Jarod overcome with raw emotion or finding herself blindsided by sentiment.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly ascended the dusty stairs. What she felt as the living quarters of Jarod's parents came into view was… surprise. She'd known they'd stayed here for many years, but she hadn't expected the place to look so…homey. No doubt originally used a storage area, the loft held the typical mish-mash of furniture – a gaudy floral-patterned couch, metal bunk beds, old warped chests of drawers, and a few mismatched lamps – but it was the personal touches that gave the space a cozy, lived-in feeling, even all these years after it had been vacated by its inhabitants.

The walls were the exposed boards of the barn, daylight seeping through cracks between the distressed wood planks or shining here and there through knotholes. But the hard edges of the loft had been softened with a child's drawing tacked to one wall, a quilt hung above the head of the double bed and a neatly folded comforter at the foot, and brightly painted toy airplanes dangling from the rafters.

Jarod sat at a small wood desk in the middle of the loft, staring down at a half-finished plane in his hands. As she climbed the last step, he glanced up at her, and she hesitated on the threshold.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked quietly.

"No, come in."

His tone was inviting, so she moved farther into the room. "Is everything just as they left it?"

He looked around as if seeing the place in a new light. "Yes," he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Do you think it's strange that I kept it this way?"

"No," she said. She understood. Standing here among his parents' belongings, she could almost feel their presence. With his simulation skills, Jarod could probably imagine complete scenarios of his mother and father's life in this place. She knew he'd never get rid of anything that helped forge a connection to his long-lost family.

Jarod's gaze returned to the toy – his father's creation - he held. "I feel close to them here," he said softly.

"I know." Miss Parker crossed to him and put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes lifted to hers, and she saw the warm spark of gratitude in their depths.

She didn't deserve his thanks. The few sympathetic words she uttered now did nothing to make up for the years she'd helped the Centre thwart his efforts to find his family.

He sensed her sudden discomfort. "What is it?" he asked.

She moved away, went to stand next to the sofa where she absently touched a brightly striped lampshade that was probably homemade; her fingers came away covered in dust. Yes, Jarod's family had left a definite imprint here, but he shouldn't be content with mere fossils. The real thing was out there somewhere, just waiting to be found. Given his skills and contacts, she had no doubt that he could be successful if he gave the search the attention it deserved.

Casting an intentionally dismissive glance around the room, she said, "This shrine is nice, Jarod, but don't you think it's time to get moving? You're free now. The Centre thinks you're dead, so this is your chance to devote all your time and energy into looking for your family! What's holding you back?"

Jarod set the toy airplane on the desk among the woodworking tools once used by his father and stared down at the swirls of sawdust as if studying tea leaves for inspiration. He finally looked over at her. "You," he said.

Not this again. Until recently, they'd only seen each other a handful of times over the span of years, yet now he was basing major life decisions on her? She felt the same flare of anger she'd experienced earlier. "Damn it, Jarod, don't use me as an excuse! If you really want to find your family-"

He was on his feet in an instant. "You know I do!"

"Then you know you need to get as far away from me as possible!" She crossed to the window and looked out, hating her fugitive status. "I'm a liability. With the Centre looking for me, you're in danger of being discovered and having everything you went through to escape, everything you did to fake your own death, be all for nothing!" She didn't even need to close her eyes to once again see him convulsing on the floor of the sim lab while Lyle shocked him or toppling backwards out of the warehouse window after Lyle shot him. "Why take that risk?" she asked.

"You needed me…"

"Needed. Past tense." She could hear how crabby she sounded, and she stopped to take a breath before continuing in a calmer tone. "I'll admit that a week ago I wasn't myself and it's a good thing you showed up when you did. But I'm better now, stronger, and… and I will not be the reason you lose your best chance to finally locate your family!"

"I would never blame you."

She didn't turn to look at him. She didn't want to see his soulful brown eyes gazing at her with a tenderness she could hear in his voice. She rested her forehead against the window and thought tiredly how it had been much easier to stay angry with Jarod when he was always getting away from her and flaunting that fact. Now that she'd seen his kinder, gentler side on a regular basis, she felt like she was kicking a puppy whenever she said a harsh word to him. How would she ever win an argument?

He joined her by the window. "You may not need me right now, but I need you in my life, now and always," he said quietly. "Yes, by being with you, I may be jeopardizing my best chance of finally finding my parents, but I also know that this is our best chance of finally being together. I want us to be together." He paused. "I thought that maybe… after how close we've gotten this past week… maybe you'd want that, too?"

She couldn't look at him, didn't want to see the yearning that she knew would be written all over his face. "We've already had this discussion, Jarod," she said. "We're not meant to get what we want. And I'm nobody's sidekick."

"Well, I'm not some comic book character, either, so can we drop the damn metaphors?"

His outburst drew a startled glance from her. Jarod took the opportunity to capture her hands in his and force her to maintain eye contact. "Why does everything in our lives have to be so dramatic?" he insisted. "I didn't ask to be born with my… ability, and I certainly didn't ask to be kidnapped and treated like a lab rat by some sinister think tank. If I choose to help people using the only skills I know, that doesn't make me a super hero. If I help you when you need it, I'm not a knight riding to your rescue. If we haven't been able to get what we want yet, that doesn't mean it's written in the stars that we are fated to always be miserable!" He sighed. "Why can't we just be two people who want to be there for each other when they're needed? That's what people do when they're in love, right?"

Miss Parker felt a jolt straight to her core. "What did you say?" she whispered, finding it suddenly difficult to draw air into her lungs.

Amazingly, Jarod looked and sounded perfectly calm as he replied softly, "What I should have said a long time ago." He touched her face. "I love you."

He dipped his head to give her a gentle but lingering kiss. When they finally drew apart, Miss Parker found herself more breathless than usual, still reeling from his declaration of love. She wondered dimly if he was waiting for her to respond in kind, but he seemed content, currently nuzzling her neck. She didn't know what to say anyway. Did she love him? How could she be sure? Deciding those were questions that could wait, she closed her eyes and savored the sensations his touch always produced in her.

His hands were getting busy. Even as her body began to respond, her mind urged her to put on the brakes, under some bizarre impression that they were about to be caught making out in his parents' living room. Suddenly, the heat they were generating seemed too much in the stuffy loft. She needed to slow things down and maybe lighten the mood, if that was possible after his stunning revelation.

She said, "Jarod, I hate to tell you this…" She felt him tense in her arms. "…but we'll never be an ordinary couple."

His surprised chuckle was muffled against her throat. "Oh, really?" he murmured.

"That's right. Ordinary couples don't argue about whether it's better to fly halfway around the world to search for a cure for a deadly virus or stay in hiding from a crazed African warlord."

He lifted his head to study her face, a slight frown furrowing his brow. She smiled slightly so he'd know she was trying for some levity. "So what do normal couples argue about?" he asked.

Relieved that he was willing to play along, she tossed out, "Oh, things like one of them not even commenting on the other one's new outfit."

Jarod proceeded to hold her at arm's length and make a big show of surveying her from head to toe. "I like it," he pronounced finally. "Not your usual classic black or power red, but the blue looks nice on you. Brings out the color of your eyes."

"Let me guess; you were a fashion designer once."

"A photographer, but that's not who's speaking. A man in love knows what looks good on his woman."

Feeling an unfamiliar thrill at his use of the "l" word again, she decided to forgive his slightly chauvinistic reference to her as "his woman."

"I especially like the shorts," he went on, his eyes traveling downwards. "I've missed seeing those incredible legs of yours."

Miss Parker arched a brow. "Since when?"

"Well, I suspected you wore those short skirts while chasing me in an attempt to distract me." He shrugged and showed his dimples. "So I pretended not to notice."

She swatted him on the arm, and Jarod pulled her in tight for another kiss. This time Miss Parker answered the demands of her body and surrendered to the passion that always ignited so easily between them.

Later, Jarod lay awake, staring at the woman who was snuggled against him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile. Even with his powerful imagination, he'd never once dreamed that this extraordinary woman – she of the sharp tongue and even sharper stiletto heels – would ever willingly cuddle with any man, let alone him. He still found it hard to believe that the last week had really happened.

He didn't regret any of it, especially not his decision to finally tell her that he loved her. It didn't even bother him that she hadn't expressed a similar sentiment. Watching her lie in peaceful slumber here next to him told him more than words how much she trusted him. Could love be far behind?

Miss Parker stirred. Her eyes opened, and he saw them cloud with confusion as she tried to identify her surroundings. When realization set in, she appeared more distressed, sitting up quickly, clutching the flowered sheet to her chest.

He reached out to caress her bare shoulder. "What is it?" he asked.

"Jarod, doesn't it bother you that we just… did what we did in your parents' old apartment? In their bed?" She glanced with a kind of horror at the quaint quilt hanging on the wall above their heads, as if his mother herself had been there to witness their debauchery.

"No, why should it?" Seeing she still felt uncomfortable, he tried to explain what he felt. "This loft is full of memories, but only imagined ones. It feels right to make a memory of my own here. A very nice one," he added, his fingers sliding down her arm to give her hand a comforting squeeze.

She smiled in relief and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss.

Jarod felt the now-familiar stirring of his body asking for more, but he needed to deny its appetites for the moment. He had to do something first.

He reluctantly drew away and reached over the edge of the bed to find his pants. He pulled his cell phone out of the pocket and handed it to a surprised Miss Parker.

"What's this for?" she asked.

He took a deep breath. "I know you don't like the idea of going on the road with me," he began, waving away any polite protestations before she could voice them. "I understand it's a big step," he went on, determined to get this next part out before he changed his mind. "I realize it's unfair of me to ask you to help find my family when you still have unfinished business with your own." He nodded at the phone in her hand. "That's a burner phone, untraceable. You should call your father and settle things with him."

She looked almost as stunned as when he'd told her he loved her. In both cases, he hoped he'd made the right decision.