In Transit by MMB
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
In Transit - by MMB
Chapter Four: Getting There
The psychiatric journal Sydney had been reading finally slipped free of his inattentive fingers and hit the floor of the jet with a small thunk, and it was enough of a noise to rouse him. Sydney blinked a few times as he raised his chin from his chest, where it had landed when he'd dozed off unexpectedly amid-article, then noticed that sometime in the interim the pilot had dimmed the lights in the cabin to accommodate sleeping passengers. A little more awake now, the psychiatrist glanced around at his fellow travelers.
Once more, Broots had his seat pushed all the way back and was sprawled and snoring softly, slender black headphones still in place but not plugged into anything apparent. The laptop on which he'd been contentedly working before Sydney's nap was nowhere in sight any longer, probably carefully packed away in its carrying case and stowed overhead. Opposite Broots and in the seat against the forward bulkhead, Sam had again leaned his head back and was also snoring softly. The burly sweeper seemed genuinely relaxed and asleep this time, as if knowing that his protective services wouldn't be needed anytime soon.
Sydney looked down as he felt a weight against his arm and found that Miss Parker still had complete control of his right elbow and was dead to the world beneath her blue blanket. As he watched her sleep, she stirred with a tiny moan and tightened her grip on his elbow as she snuggled down closer in to him. Allowing himself to feel ever so slightly protective of her slumber, he leaned and shushed at her very quietly into her ear while he reached over with his left hand and carefully plucked back a lock of dark hair that was threatening to fall into her slightly open mouth.
Looking up over the top of her head, he could see the darkness of the night sky through the small window. All of them were going to have a rip-roaring case of jet lag from this little escapade, he thought to himself wryly - either they will have had too much sleep at the wrong time, or not enough sleep at all. It was a good thing that this fiasco had taken place on a Friday, at least they'd all have the better part of the weekend to get themselves back on their Delaware time rhythm.
Miss Parker moaned and stirred against his arm again, and he looked back down at her. She was dreaming, and whatever the particulars of this one might have been, the overall tone from her physical reactive expressions told him that it wasn't a pleasant dream. Her brow was now folded into an expression of fright or concern, and her hand at his elbow was now clutching at him tightly as if hanging onto something for dear life. She gave a sudden massive shudder, and then her head came up off of his arm as she forced herself out of the nightmare. She blinked a few times as she struggled to get her bearings in unfamiliar surroundings, then settled abruptly back down onto Sydney's arm with a whimpered "Oh God!"
"Bad dream?" he asked quietly, leaning over her again.
She started violently, as if not expecting to hear his voice, and then relaxed and nodded without speaking.
He considered for a moment, knowing better than to ask her about the dream, and aware through experience of how touchy she could get if anyone tried to comfort her when she got upset. He decided to take a chance anyway and moved his free hand beneath the edge of the blanket to gently pat the hand still clutching his arm and then left the hand covering hers warmly, communicating his concern and desire to soothe.
Miss Parker bit her lip. Knowing Sydney, she would have expected him to be gently pressing her to describe the dream, to talk it out so he could psychoanalyze both the dream and her reactions to it. How did he know that what she needed right now more than anything else was someone to just be there and comfort her? She brought her other arm up from where it had lay between them and wrapped it around his elbow from the back, virtually embracing the arm and hugging it close to her. Rarely had she appreciated his presence as much as she did in that moment.
Sydney blinked. The dream must have upset her more than he'd first thought for her to not only accept the comfort he'd offered but actively seek more - and to seek it from HIM, whom she had consistently and repeatedly pushed away nearly every time he'd ever tried to comfort her before. He leaned over her again. "Hey - you OK?"
She nodded against him again, then said in a very quiet voice, "Just... don't..." Her words faltered; how could she tell him that she just needed for him to be near her right now, that she needed him as a constant and stalwart support at her side - now more than ever - without betraying at the same time just how fragile that outer façade of competence of hers had become? How could she possibly make him understand that awakening from reliving the real-life nightmare of her "father's" pulling away from her and taking that suicidal jump to find herself warm and safely nestled into his friendly arm had meant the difference between agonizing, debilitating despair and an aching but bearable grief?
"Don't what?" he pressed very carefully with quiet but vivid concern, stroking her hand on his arm with his.
She shook her head. "Never mind," she murmured back, snuggling back into the arm and looking down so that there would be no way for him to see into her face. "It's nothing, really."
He wasn't buying it this time either, only this time he wasn't going to just let it go. "Uh-uhn," he countered, pulling his left hand from beneath the blanket. He put a gentle forefinger beneath her chin and tipped her face up so that he could see her clearly in the dimly lit cabin, then waited patiently until she relented and opened her eyes and looked at him. "Don't what, Parker?"
Miss Parker gazed with trepidation into those warm chestnut eyes that seemed to hold nothing but concern for her welfare within them and wondered just how far she dared trust him with her secret fear. She thought back over the years she had worked closely with the man and learned his secrets along with her own. Every time she had doubted him, her distrust had eventually been proven unnecessary. Sydney might be a master of survival at the Centre, but he had proven to be painfully scrupulous about maintaining his professional ethics as a psychiatrist as well as never divulging those confidences he had sworn to keep to himself otherwise. He'd kept his own counsel, even when doing otherwise might have benefited him or served his own agenda. Her mother had trusted him implicitly; all she needed to do now was decide if she wanted to follow suit.
Sydney had felt his heart plummet when he'd seen the wariness and hesitancy in her eyes. He'd seen much the same look of distrust and caution in Jarod's eyes often enough since the Pretender's escape - coming from Miss Parker, it cut him to the quick no less painfully. Was this the ultimate price of survival, he berated himself - the price of never really letting others know how much they meant to him? Was this the ultimate price of his keeping his promise to Catherine, even knowing as time went on the hurt and despair it would inevitably cause in the one person she'd sought to protect from such things with that very promise?
He realized in a rush that he couldn't push her - he knew in his heart that he didn't deserve the trust he was asking her to place in him. He removed his finger from beneath her chin and landed his left hand in his lap uselessly, giving her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Parker," he whispered, feeling utterly desolate. He looked away, giving her leave and room to recoil or sit up or do whatever it was she intended to do without any further interference from him. He knew his place, the boundaries of their relationship had been long well-defined, and he wouldn't attempt to stray beyond them again soon.
Miss Parker watched in amazement as intense hurt, insecurity and then a deep and abiding sadness had in turn flitted past in the depths of those warm eyes holding hers, and then she froze in disbelief and dismay as she saw and felt him retreat from her physically and emotionally. It was as if all the tenuous warmth and closeness that had taken an entire day's journey and repartee to build between them had suddenly been extinguished.
Had it not been for the abject apology he'd muttered, she might have thought him angry at her for refusing to answer him. Instead, it suddenly occurred to her that her traveling companion might be just as insecure as she was - as afraid of being rebuffed once more by her as she was of having her weaknesses known by him. The more she considered it, the more she knew she was right; and the very idea gave her the courage to do what she knew she needed to do - what she knew they both needed for her to do.
She untucked her right hand from his elbow and reached out for the hand that lay discarded in his lap. "Don't," she repeated, pulling the hand across his body and securely into her keeping under her chin and over her heart. She knew she'd startled him with the vehemence of her gesture, and felt him look down at her again. "I'm sorry too, Syd," she said finally, raising her head and looking into his confused visage. "Please don't stop trying to help," she explained lamely. "I... need..." She faltered again, stumbling over her own fear of being perceived as weak.
The hand in hers turned and tightened around her fingers, and the warmth was back in the chestnut eyes, although diminished, tentative and wavering. "Just tell me, Parker," he asked in a shaken voice, "and I swear to you, if it's in my power..."
"I just need to know you're here," she whispered, her heart in her mouth as she spoke the words that in essence left her defenseless, "that you'll be here..."
"I'm not going anywhere," Sydney reassured her softly as understanding suddenly dawned.
"That's what they all said." The words were nearly inaudible, but the pain and grief behind them unmistakable. She gazed into his face expectantly, fearfully.
The warmth returned in full measure to his eyes, and he smiled at her gently. "Life sometimes has other plans for us, Parker. Nothing is for certain. But," and his fingers tightened around hers again, "for as long as I have any say in the matter..."
Sydney reclaimed his right arm from her other hand and lifted it invitingly. Miss Parker thought for a moment, then took a deep, relaxing breath, moved closer to him and laid her head down carefully on his chest. She closed her eyes as she felt the arm fold itself across her shoulders and hold her closer after tucking the blanket in more securely around her in her new position.
"OK?" he asked quietly.
"OK," she answered without hesitation, settling down comfortably and contentedly against him and feeling him shift in his seat so he could hold her more comfortably.
Feeling more secure than she had in a long time, and with the comforting sound of his heart beating steadily beneath her ear, Miss Parker soon drifted back to restful, dreamless, sleep. And after sitting quietly and appreciating the resolution of something very important that had been long-standing and never before voiced between the two of them, Sydney too began to droop again. Soon his cheek rested gently against the dark head on his chest, and his breathing became deep and regular.
The cabin was silent once more except for the soft sounds of sleeping as the jet flew onwards into the night sky, back to Delaware and the Centre.
Chapter Four: Getting There
The psychiatric journal Sydney had been reading finally slipped free of his inattentive fingers and hit the floor of the jet with a small thunk, and it was enough of a noise to rouse him. Sydney blinked a few times as he raised his chin from his chest, where it had landed when he'd dozed off unexpectedly amid-article, then noticed that sometime in the interim the pilot had dimmed the lights in the cabin to accommodate sleeping passengers. A little more awake now, the psychiatrist glanced around at his fellow travelers.
Once more, Broots had his seat pushed all the way back and was sprawled and snoring softly, slender black headphones still in place but not plugged into anything apparent. The laptop on which he'd been contentedly working before Sydney's nap was nowhere in sight any longer, probably carefully packed away in its carrying case and stowed overhead. Opposite Broots and in the seat against the forward bulkhead, Sam had again leaned his head back and was also snoring softly. The burly sweeper seemed genuinely relaxed and asleep this time, as if knowing that his protective services wouldn't be needed anytime soon.
Sydney looked down as he felt a weight against his arm and found that Miss Parker still had complete control of his right elbow and was dead to the world beneath her blue blanket. As he watched her sleep, she stirred with a tiny moan and tightened her grip on his elbow as she snuggled down closer in to him. Allowing himself to feel ever so slightly protective of her slumber, he leaned and shushed at her very quietly into her ear while he reached over with his left hand and carefully plucked back a lock of dark hair that was threatening to fall into her slightly open mouth.
Looking up over the top of her head, he could see the darkness of the night sky through the small window. All of them were going to have a rip-roaring case of jet lag from this little escapade, he thought to himself wryly - either they will have had too much sleep at the wrong time, or not enough sleep at all. It was a good thing that this fiasco had taken place on a Friday, at least they'd all have the better part of the weekend to get themselves back on their Delaware time rhythm.
Miss Parker moaned and stirred against his arm again, and he looked back down at her. She was dreaming, and whatever the particulars of this one might have been, the overall tone from her physical reactive expressions told him that it wasn't a pleasant dream. Her brow was now folded into an expression of fright or concern, and her hand at his elbow was now clutching at him tightly as if hanging onto something for dear life. She gave a sudden massive shudder, and then her head came up off of his arm as she forced herself out of the nightmare. She blinked a few times as she struggled to get her bearings in unfamiliar surroundings, then settled abruptly back down onto Sydney's arm with a whimpered "Oh God!"
"Bad dream?" he asked quietly, leaning over her again.
She started violently, as if not expecting to hear his voice, and then relaxed and nodded without speaking.
He considered for a moment, knowing better than to ask her about the dream, and aware through experience of how touchy she could get if anyone tried to comfort her when she got upset. He decided to take a chance anyway and moved his free hand beneath the edge of the blanket to gently pat the hand still clutching his arm and then left the hand covering hers warmly, communicating his concern and desire to soothe.
Miss Parker bit her lip. Knowing Sydney, she would have expected him to be gently pressing her to describe the dream, to talk it out so he could psychoanalyze both the dream and her reactions to it. How did he know that what she needed right now more than anything else was someone to just be there and comfort her? She brought her other arm up from where it had lay between them and wrapped it around his elbow from the back, virtually embracing the arm and hugging it close to her. Rarely had she appreciated his presence as much as she did in that moment.
Sydney blinked. The dream must have upset her more than he'd first thought for her to not only accept the comfort he'd offered but actively seek more - and to seek it from HIM, whom she had consistently and repeatedly pushed away nearly every time he'd ever tried to comfort her before. He leaned over her again. "Hey - you OK?"
She nodded against him again, then said in a very quiet voice, "Just... don't..." Her words faltered; how could she tell him that she just needed for him to be near her right now, that she needed him as a constant and stalwart support at her side - now more than ever - without betraying at the same time just how fragile that outer façade of competence of hers had become? How could she possibly make him understand that awakening from reliving the real-life nightmare of her "father's" pulling away from her and taking that suicidal jump to find herself warm and safely nestled into his friendly arm had meant the difference between agonizing, debilitating despair and an aching but bearable grief?
"Don't what?" he pressed very carefully with quiet but vivid concern, stroking her hand on his arm with his.
She shook her head. "Never mind," she murmured back, snuggling back into the arm and looking down so that there would be no way for him to see into her face. "It's nothing, really."
He wasn't buying it this time either, only this time he wasn't going to just let it go. "Uh-uhn," he countered, pulling his left hand from beneath the blanket. He put a gentle forefinger beneath her chin and tipped her face up so that he could see her clearly in the dimly lit cabin, then waited patiently until she relented and opened her eyes and looked at him. "Don't what, Parker?"
Miss Parker gazed with trepidation into those warm chestnut eyes that seemed to hold nothing but concern for her welfare within them and wondered just how far she dared trust him with her secret fear. She thought back over the years she had worked closely with the man and learned his secrets along with her own. Every time she had doubted him, her distrust had eventually been proven unnecessary. Sydney might be a master of survival at the Centre, but he had proven to be painfully scrupulous about maintaining his professional ethics as a psychiatrist as well as never divulging those confidences he had sworn to keep to himself otherwise. He'd kept his own counsel, even when doing otherwise might have benefited him or served his own agenda. Her mother had trusted him implicitly; all she needed to do now was decide if she wanted to follow suit.
Sydney had felt his heart plummet when he'd seen the wariness and hesitancy in her eyes. He'd seen much the same look of distrust and caution in Jarod's eyes often enough since the Pretender's escape - coming from Miss Parker, it cut him to the quick no less painfully. Was this the ultimate price of survival, he berated himself - the price of never really letting others know how much they meant to him? Was this the ultimate price of his keeping his promise to Catherine, even knowing as time went on the hurt and despair it would inevitably cause in the one person she'd sought to protect from such things with that very promise?
He realized in a rush that he couldn't push her - he knew in his heart that he didn't deserve the trust he was asking her to place in him. He removed his finger from beneath her chin and landed his left hand in his lap uselessly, giving her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Parker," he whispered, feeling utterly desolate. He looked away, giving her leave and room to recoil or sit up or do whatever it was she intended to do without any further interference from him. He knew his place, the boundaries of their relationship had been long well-defined, and he wouldn't attempt to stray beyond them again soon.
Miss Parker watched in amazement as intense hurt, insecurity and then a deep and abiding sadness had in turn flitted past in the depths of those warm eyes holding hers, and then she froze in disbelief and dismay as she saw and felt him retreat from her physically and emotionally. It was as if all the tenuous warmth and closeness that had taken an entire day's journey and repartee to build between them had suddenly been extinguished.
Had it not been for the abject apology he'd muttered, she might have thought him angry at her for refusing to answer him. Instead, it suddenly occurred to her that her traveling companion might be just as insecure as she was - as afraid of being rebuffed once more by her as she was of having her weaknesses known by him. The more she considered it, the more she knew she was right; and the very idea gave her the courage to do what she knew she needed to do - what she knew they both needed for her to do.
She untucked her right hand from his elbow and reached out for the hand that lay discarded in his lap. "Don't," she repeated, pulling the hand across his body and securely into her keeping under her chin and over her heart. She knew she'd startled him with the vehemence of her gesture, and felt him look down at her again. "I'm sorry too, Syd," she said finally, raising her head and looking into his confused visage. "Please don't stop trying to help," she explained lamely. "I... need..." She faltered again, stumbling over her own fear of being perceived as weak.
The hand in hers turned and tightened around her fingers, and the warmth was back in the chestnut eyes, although diminished, tentative and wavering. "Just tell me, Parker," he asked in a shaken voice, "and I swear to you, if it's in my power..."
"I just need to know you're here," she whispered, her heart in her mouth as she spoke the words that in essence left her defenseless, "that you'll be here..."
"I'm not going anywhere," Sydney reassured her softly as understanding suddenly dawned.
"That's what they all said." The words were nearly inaudible, but the pain and grief behind them unmistakable. She gazed into his face expectantly, fearfully.
The warmth returned in full measure to his eyes, and he smiled at her gently. "Life sometimes has other plans for us, Parker. Nothing is for certain. But," and his fingers tightened around hers again, "for as long as I have any say in the matter..."
Sydney reclaimed his right arm from her other hand and lifted it invitingly. Miss Parker thought for a moment, then took a deep, relaxing breath, moved closer to him and laid her head down carefully on his chest. She closed her eyes as she felt the arm fold itself across her shoulders and hold her closer after tucking the blanket in more securely around her in her new position.
"OK?" he asked quietly.
"OK," she answered without hesitation, settling down comfortably and contentedly against him and feeling him shift in his seat so he could hold her more comfortably.
Feeling more secure than she had in a long time, and with the comforting sound of his heart beating steadily beneath her ear, Miss Parker soon drifted back to restful, dreamless, sleep. And after sitting quietly and appreciating the resolution of something very important that had been long-standing and never before voiced between the two of them, Sydney too began to droop again. Soon his cheek rested gently against the dark head on his chest, and his breathing became deep and regular.
The cabin was silent once more except for the soft sounds of sleeping as the jet flew onwards into the night sky, back to Delaware and the Centre.
