Chapter 35

            “You’re leaving?”

            Sydney couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.  When Miss Parker had asked to meet him at Hybrid Biotract 42 he certainly hadn’t anticipated a simple stroll through the gardens, but what she’d just told him was the last thing he’d expected to hear.  He’d hoped her choice of this secluded location meant she was ready to share more details about her encounter with Jarod the other day; it was rare when she confided in him, but it did happen, and right now he knew she desperately needed to talk to someone.  When she’d told him and Broots that she was convinced Jarod had returned from Africa a changed man – and not for the better – Sydney could sense the despair behind the carefully-delivered words.  True, he could have been projecting some of his own profound disappointment in that moment, but it didn’t take a degree in psychology to know she was hurting.  Buoyed by the hope that she was willing to talk now, he’d arrived at this afternoon’s clandestine meeting with the intention to help her sort through her feelings and deal with the situation by finding a positive way to move forward.

            Although it seemed Miss Parker had already chosen her path.  He’d barely joined her on the stone steps at the far end of the biotract when she’d announced that she was leaving the Centre for good.  Caught off guard by this news, Sydney didn’t even think about phrasing his next question in a gently persuasive manner like any good psychiatrist would.  He simply said, “Why?”

            She didn’t respond immediately.  Sitting next to him on the steps, she kept her gaze on the gardens below.  The lush blooms of late spring were long gone, and the brilliant fall foliage wouldn’t appear for another month.  Still, the biotract boasted a diverse enough array of flora for something to be at its peak no matter what the season.  From his current vantage point near the top of the flight of steps, Sydney spotted several varieties of ferns and some flourishing species of ornamental grasses topped with delicate white plumes swaying in the slight breeze.  But he doubted Miss Parker was seeing the beautiful scene below her; her mind’s eye was focused, no doubt, on the many tumultuous events that had transpired since the last time she’d sat here with him.

            She’d helped Jarod pull off a daring escape only to watch him “die” later.  She’d been driven to shoot her own brother.  She’d gone on the run from the Centre and been reunited briefly with Jarod.  Then she’d been betrayed by her father and almost shipped off to Africa.  Jarod had rescued her at the expense of his own freedom and, it now seemed, his own true self. 

            Just thinking about these events left Sydney weary to his core.  He knew what a terrible toll this summer had taken on Miss Parker.  Her physical, mental and emotional reserves must be depleted.  He couldn’t fault her for wanting to get away.  But what kind of friend – or psychiatrist – would he be if he just let her go without at least trying to determine if she was thinking clearly enough to make such a life-altering decision?

            The silence stretched out between them.  Just when he thought she wasn’t going to respond, Miss Parker stirred and said, still looking away from him, “Why am I leaving?  My job here is done.  Jarod is back and ready, willing and able to do whatever dastardly deeds the Centre deems necessary.  I more than fulfilled the terms of my contract with my father, so it’s time for me to get the hell outta here.”

            “All valid points,” Sydney acknowledged drily, “but you might want to tweak the language a bit before you write your official letter of resignation.”

            “Oh, don’t worry; my language will be different when I personally deliver that letter to my father.”

            Again, she’d surprised him.  He knew she’d been avoiding her father since he’d turned her over to Mutumbo.  This was a positive sign that she felt ready to initiate contact, although he still had to ask, “Are you certain you’re ready for that?”

            Now she met his concerned gaze.  “I’m sure you’d agree that closure is a good thing.  The last time I tried that it didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped…” She took a breath and continued, “This time will be different.  I have a few things I need to say to my father before I leave.”  The steel in her voice was reflected in the fierce blue glint in her eyes.

            Sydney was relieved to see the Miss Parker he knew, the fighter who wasn’t afraid to meet obstacles head-on.  He’d been worried that recent events may have caused her to slip back into the depression that had gripped her this summer after Jarod’s “death.”

            Then he felt a twinge of uneasiness as he remembered the drastic action she’d taken to fight back before.  She wasn’t planning to shoot her father as she had Lyle, was she?  Sydney realized he needed to talk to her a little more, try to get a feel for her current state of mind, before she had any confrontation with Mr. Parker.

            “I think it’s a good idea to talk things over with your father,” he said carefully, hoping the subtle stress he placed on the word “talk” would give her a subliminal nudge away from any violent plans.  “I know you’ve had trouble being honest with him about your feelings.”  He paused then tried to sound casual as he added, “So why don’t you practice with me first and tell me the real reason you’re leaving.”

            Her gaze shifted away.  “Damn it, Sydney.”

            But he could tell it was a half-hearted protest, a reflex after years of resisting what she thought of as his shrink-like tendency to ask probing questions.  She could have told him her news over the phone, or in an e-mail, or even in passing in the hall; her choice of this secluded meeting spot hinted that she was expecting a more in-depth conversation… and that she wasn’t totally adverse to it.

            So he waited.  The late afternoon sun and fresh air felt good; he always welcomed the chance to get out of his airless, underground office.

            Miss Parker finally spoke.  “I meant what I said earlier, you know.  I did do my job; I brought Jarod back to the Centre.  Even if that wasn’t my intention,” she added bitterly.  “I was foolish enough to get caught in a trap, and Jarod had to come to my rescue.”

            “You couldn’t have known your father would betray you like that,” Sydney murmured, glad for the shrink-like tendency ingrained in him to maintain a calm demeanor; otherwise, he might have allowed his own anger at Mr. Parker’s unforgivable behavior to show, and that would just add fuel to the fire he’s seen in Miss Parker’s eyes a moment ago.  Not a good idea to encourage any rash behavior on her part.

“Jarod knew,” she said.  “At least he knew I couldn’t trust my father.  He’s been telling me that for years, but I never wanted to hear it.  And now he’s the one paying for my stubbornness.” 

“Feelings of guilt – although I believe them to be unwarranted in this case - are understandable.  The key is to not allow them to paralyze you.”

“Paralyze me?  What the hell can I do anyway?  It was damn near impossible to break Jarod out the last time, and that was when he was desperate to escape.  Now that he actually wants to stay here…”  She sighed.  “I can’t do this anymore, Sydney.  I’m just so… tired.”  She paused.  “Do you think I’m a terrible person for leaving?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, but from the stiff way she held herself as she awaited his reply, he knew that question had not been an easy one to ask.  So the simple answer – “of course not” – would not suffice.  Most people would prefer a quick and comforting response, but Miss Parker was not like most people.  With a mother who’d been kind but mentally unstable, a brother who’d been a psychotic killer, and a father who excelled at treachery, she had reason to worry about unsavory traits surfacing in her own personality.  Perhaps she believed he’d be the first one to recognize the warning signs if she started to behave like the members of her family.

So was she asking for his professional opinion?  Or for advice from a friend?  She rarely sought either from him.  The fact that she was doing so now seemed to indicate that she hadn’t one hundred percent made up her mind about leaving, which he felt was a healthy sign; when making such a life-altering decision, she should welcome input from those closest to her.

Although relieved that she was reaching out to him, Sydney did not know how to respond.  If this was strictly a doctor-patient conversation, he’d say something like: “Only you can decide if leaving is the right thing to do.”  But he knew that reply would serve to solidify all her pre-conceived notions about shrinks who never gave straight answers, eroding whatever level of trust they’d manage to build over the years.  She deserved more than a textbook response.

But was he willing to give one?  If truth be told, Sydney sometimes was grateful for Miss Parker’s policy of never letting anyone get too close.  As coordinator of the Pretender project all those years ago, he’d had to stay detached – to a certain degree - or he would never have been able to put young Jarod through all those difficult simulations.  He’d maintained that same detachment from Miss Parker ever since she was a child, offering her emotional support only when absolutely necessary, like when her mother died and her father was too grief-stricken to be there for his little girl.  Once she was an adult, it had made sense to continue to be no more than cordial colleagues.  Sydney found it easier to do his job if he kept his own emotions out of the work place.

So he was usually content to refrain from giving Miss Parker any unsolicited advice.  But at this moment, he felt he had to offer his honest opinion about her decision to leave the Centre.  If he could figure out precisely what that opinion was.  Part of him was glad she had finally worked up the courage to break away from this hellhole, but another part of him – a very small part – felt slightly betrayed that she would choose to leave now, when there was still a chance that Jarod – their Jarod – could be brought back.  But he certainly wasn’t going to be so selfish as to reveal those feelings to her and put a damper on what he truly believed could be the start of a whole new happy life for her.

Sensing Miss Parker’s growing discomfort at his silence, Sydney feared he’d hesitated too long.  Somewhere nearby a woodpecker drilled into a tree, as if providing a drumroll.

“Do I think you’re a terrible person for wanting to leave the Centre?  No, of course not, but it doesn’t matter what I think.  You need to believe you’re doing what’s right for you.  I’m sorry if that sounds like something a shrink would say, but it’s the truth.”  Then, before she tuned him out completely, he decided to give more direct advice.  “You said there was nothing more you could do here.  So, maybe the best way to help Jarod is to move on with your life, try to find happiness elsewhere.  Wouldn’t Jarod want you to do that?”

Miss Parker threw an accusing glance his way.  “You make it sound like he’s dead, Sydney!”

He met her angry gaze.  “In a way he is,” he said, again thankful for his psychiatric training that enabled him to keep his voice steady and calm when discussing something that tore at his soul.  “Our Jarod is gone, perhaps forever.  We need to deal with that loss, come to terms with our grief.”

“Been there, done that, made a complete mess of things.”  Her tone was flippant but he saw the haunted look in her eyes.  Sydney knew he’d never forget the sight of Miss Parker standing over Lyle’s body in the parking garage; he was certain she was plagued by similar memories.  

A slight breeze made the treetops sway and sent a cascade of shadows rippling across Miss Parker’s face.  For a second, Sydney thought he glimpsed a trace of the young girl she’d once been or perhaps the ghost of her mother, and he knew he was seeing her vulnerable side, the fragile part of herself that she kept fiercely hidden away.

Forget maintaining a professional distance!  He needed to comfort her.  Sydney reached out to take Miss Parker’s hand.

He was disappointed but not surprised when she pulled away.  What he didn’t expect was the slight wince he noticed accompanying the movement.  “Is your wrist still bothering you?” he asked, remembering what she’d told him about Jarod grabbing her arm.

“It’s just bruised,” she said dismissively, yet she frowned down at her left hand for a beat before adding, “I still can’t figure out why Jarod reacted like that when I mentioned Raines.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Sydney said, lacing his fingers over his knees and leaning forward slightly to relieve the pressure on his tailbone from sitting on the rough stone steps.  “We both know that Jarod would have fought the brainwashing process with everything he had, so I believe Mutumbo’s team needed a focal point for his rage.  Raines was the logical choice.  Remember, Raines himself used a similar technique to condition Jarod’s brother Kyle to hate your mother.”

Miss Parker brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.  “Well, if Jarod kills Raines the next time he sees him, at least something good will have come out of him being brainwashed.”

Sydney knew she wasn’t being facetious when she said that.  “I doubt Mutumbo will allow Jarod anywhere near Raines.  I imagine he’s become a valuable asset in the poorest parts of Africa, where his role of missionary can garner lots of grateful recruits for the Triumverate.”

“I wonder what they’ll have Jarod do.  With his moral compass out of whack, the Centre has a whole new skill set to exploit.  The new Jarod is just as willing to be an assassin as a cop.”

“I won’t stop trying to figure out exactly what they did in Africa to turn him,” Sydney said quietly.  “I’ve already begun researching ways to undo mind control.  I promise you I won’t give up.”

“I know you won’t, Sydney.  It makes it easier for me to leave knowing that Jarod will still have someone here looking out for him.”

“Always,” Sydney said, having difficulty pushing that one word past the sudden lump in his throat.

A lump which seemed to grow larger when Miss Parker unexpectedly reached out and laid her hand on his.  “Don’t let your own guilt blind you to all the ways you’ve helped Jarod over the years,” she said.  “He’s lucky to have had you in his life.  As have I,” she added, her voice thick with emotion.

Her rare display of affection made him realize the importance of this moment; Miss Parker was truly leaving the Centre forever.  He had to clear his throat before he could ask, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

She sighed.  “I’m not certain about anything these days, but I do think it’s the best way to keep my –” She seemed to catch herself, abruptly let go of his hand, and returned her attention to the gardens below.  “To keep my sanity,” she muttered.

Sydney felt like she was still keeping something from him, but he decided not to press the issue.

 “Where will you go?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet.  I’ll contact you once I’m settled somewhere, but don’t expect me to be in touch on a regular basis.  I’d prefer to keep my whereabouts a secret from the Centre.”

“Is that possible?”

“I’ve learned a thing or two about lying low from Jarod.  Besides, the Centre doesn’t need me anymore to force him to comply.  And once I’ve settled things with my father… Speaking of which,” she added, getting to her feet, “I know he likes to leave early on Fridays so I’d better go now if I want to catch him still in his office.”

Sydney stood also and descended the steps behind her.  They’d just reached the bottom when Broots came hurrying along the path.

“I’m not late, am I?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

“No, you’re right on time,” Miss Parker assured him, which was final confirmation for Sydney that she had wanted to spend some time alone with him for a private goodbye.

“Oh, good.”  Broots sent a nervous glance back over his shoulder before asking in a low voice,” So, what’s the plan?  Are we helping Jarod to escape again?”

“Not this time, Broots,” Miss Parker said.  “I’m the one who’s getting away.”

“Oh!  Well, a vacation from this place is always a good idea.”

“Miss Parker is leaving the Centre for good,” Sydney said.

Broots looked confused.  “C-can you do that?”

Miss Parker’s eyes flashed.  “I’d like to see someone try to stop me.” 

Sydney thought uneasily of being careful what you wished for.

Broots was visibly upset, and Miss Parker added in a teasing tone, “Just think, Broots, how much easier your life will be without me around ordering you to spy on your superiors or sneak down to secret sub-levels or come up with solutions to impossible problems.  You can go back to just doing tech support.”

“You’re right,” Broots said, “I guess I’m not exactly cut out for that cloak and dagger stuff.”

But Sydney noticed that he didn’t seem exactly thrilled about returning to a life spent mainly in the computer lab, confirming what he’d suspected for some time: Broots actually liked the dangerous adventures that had become part of his job.

 “You did okay,” Miss Parker said.  “Better than okay.  You never let me down, no matter what I asked of you.  Hell, you even saved my life on more than one occasion.  Did I ever thank you for that?”

Broots shrugged, looking more and more uncomfortable with the serious turn this conversation was taking.

“Well, I should have.  And for being my friend.  That was probably your hardest job of all, wasn’t it?”  She leaned forward and hugged him, murmuring over his shoulder, “I’m going to miss you.”  Sydney saw her eyes widen in surprise at her own statement, although he wasn’t certain if it was because she had just realized how she felt or because she had actually voiced the sentiment aloud.

Then she did the most startling thing of all: gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

Broots blushed and was completely speechless, too flustered to even stammer a response. 

“I’ve told Sydney not to expect regular updates from me,” Miss Parker said briskly, “but I will be keeping tabs on you, so don’t let me hear that you’ve done anything to hamper Debbie’s budding fashion sense, alright?”

Broots laughed weakly, and Sydney suspected he was remembering the time his young daughter and Miss Parker had dressed in matching black leather outfits.

“Well, I’d better be going,” she said and turned to leave.

“Take care of yourself, Parker,” Sydney said.

Her eyes reflected the warmth of the clear blue sky when she glanced back.  “You, too, Sydney.”  Then she walked away.

“I can’t believe this,” Broots moaned.  “Jarod’s gone over to the Dark Side, and now Miss Parker’s abandoning us.  What are we going to do, Sydney?”

Even with his psychiatric training, Sydney didn’t trust himself to give a safely neutral answer, so he chose to say nothing at all.  He just watched Miss Parker go, her red silk blouse the only bright spot in the landscape.