Jarod was (for lack of a better term from Isabelle's perspective) definitely freaking out.

"What is he going to do to her? What is he going to do?" He was staring wild eyed at the retreating figure of Lyle who had ended his little session of self inflicted harm by heading down the hallway with his usual measured stride.

"You need to calm down." Isabelle's soothing tone of voice obviously didn't help him any as he turned on her and began to back her across the hallway. He looked utterly desperate.

"Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down! You have no idea what that man," he practically choked on the word as he pointed at the back of Lyle's head as he stood waiting for the elevator to arrive, "is capable of doing to someone. Tell me what he is planning!"

"I don't know." Isabelle insisted, but her voice was missing the usual trace of annoyance that had been accompanying the words.

"I am so sick of hearing you say that." Jarod spat. "You're the one who brought me here! How can you not know? No more games!" Jarod attempted to slam his fist into the wall (mostly because it seemed like a good release for some of his feelings at the moment), but instead of the satisfaction of taking his frustration out on something solid and tangible, what he got was an over balancing that sent him to his knees. His fist had, of course, not actually made contact with the wall.

"You're welcome." Isabelle stated looking appraisingly from the wall to his hand. Jarod was too distraught to ponder the implications of that statement. She shook her head and muttered "boys" in a tone that implied the eye roll that didn't come.

"Tell me what I have to do to be able to help." Jarod insisted. "There has to be some way that you can make that happen." Isabelle started to shake her head in denial, so he continued. "You don't understand. I have to stop him."

"You are here to watch, Jarod." She reminded. "These are not the people whom you can effect. These are not the people whose lives you can change. You can't intervene. You can only observe and learn. You've been telling me all night that you aren't going to care anymore. Why are you so upset? You want to tell me what it was the set you off?" Jarod's head sunk into his hands as he maintained his position kneeling on the floor.

"Please, she's going to need help."

"It's not going to come from you."

"It never does. I never help. I never save her. I never do what needs to be done."

"What are you talking about, Jarod?" Isabelle was sounding concerned again, but that give away of her emotional state was lost on Jarod at the moment.

Jarod didn't answer her. He probably didn't even register the question. He was too caught up in a series of memories swirling through his head. If sadness and anger and futility had been the themes of previous groups of memories, the theme of these must be failure.

A kind eyed woman was brushing the hair back from his forehead while she whispered how proud she was that her daughter would have such a good friend. He watched himself promise her that he would always be there for her little girl. His stomach clenched in guilt. He hadn't kept that promise. He had never been able to keep that promise. He had failed. He always failed.

He was being held back while a dark haired little girl screaming for her mother was dragged away by sweepers. He couldn't get to her. He couldn't help her. Someone was stopping him, and he couldn't fight hard enough to keep his promise.

The slightly older girl was crying as she was being slapped across the face by Raines while Jarod's own arms were pinned to his sides. He still couldn't get to her. He still couldn't help her. He wasn't strong enough. He had failed her again, and he might never have another chance to make it right.

A teenage girl with the first girl's eyes was being shaken by an irate Lyle while Jarod stood idly by doing nothing. Isabelle's injunction that he was merely an observer was ringing in his ears. He couldn't help her either. He was going to fail again. He failed her even by proxy.

A dark haired woman with sad blue eyes stood in a cemetery in the pouring rain while Jarod watched her from a distance. He still couldn't help her. He had never been able to help her. His promises were worthless. There was always something or someone that got in the way. Even now, in this glimpse of a world that could have been different, he couldn't save anyone. Isabelle wouldn't let him. He was going to be forced to fail at something he hadn't wanted to get involved in to begin with; it wasn't fair.

"I hate you." The words were intended to come across as harsh and accusing, but they somehow fell flat and lifeless.

"Jarod." He felt her move closer to him, and he looked up to see her hand hovering as though she wanted to place it on his shoulder but wasn't sure if he would accept the gesture. She was right to be cautious. He wasn't in an overly accepting kind of a mood.

"I hate you. I hate this night. I hate these things that I'm seeing. I hate that I can't do anything about any of it. Mostly, I hate that I care enough to hate it." He stopped to suck in a breath before he continued. "You win. Are you happy now? We've established that I'm not capable of cutting my losses and walking away. Please, I still don't understand. For all I know, I really have gone crazy or maybe I'm still passed out drunk at my kitchen table having a very vivid hallucination (he thought he saw the ghost of a smile cross Isabelle's face at his comment, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure). I just know that I'm involved now. I need to see what happens here. I can't just leave her again."

"You aren't crazy, Jarod. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I wanted you to snap out of your malaise. I wanted you to remember that we care for a reason. I wanted you to understand that there are things that happen that you can't control, and it doesn't serve any purpose for you to insist on feeling guilty for them. Wanting those things doesn't mean that I don't see that this is hurting you in the process. I'm sorry for that. Hurting you is not the goal here. I just want it to be worth it in the end."

"That's less than comforting."

"You are the only one who can make it worth it. It's up to you what you do with it."

Jarod felt an ill-humored chuckle rising up in his throat. Yes, his track record at long term life decisions was so stellar. Whatever it was that she was plotting for should work out just swimmingly.

"Do you want to tell me what it was you were rambling on about not saving someone?"

"No." He answered. Isabelle sighed and looked at him with a concerned expression.

"She may be a little girl trapped in the Centre, but she's not your little girl trapped in the Centre. You're still with me enough to recognize the difference, right?" She asked him.

"I know who she is and who she isn't." Jarod snapped with such venom that Isabelle looked positive that she had hit a nerve. He took a deep breath, and his voice mellowed a few degrees. "Please, can we just follow her?"

"You know you aren't going to be able to do anything except watch?" She reminded him again.

"I know." He said in exasperation. "I don't like it, but I know."

"Are you going to be okay with that?" She was pushing.

"Do I look like I'm okay with that?" He retorted.

"Jarod, I'm serious. If you are just going to shut down on me, there isn't any reason for you to be here."

"That's an interesting change of attitude that you are having. You couldn't have had this epiphany before you invaded my life?"

"I'm not changing my attitude. This has always been about opening your eyes and helping you to understand. If you are going to only dwell on the bad things that you are seeing instead of taking in the whole picture, then you are never going to understand. If we follow her, and you don't like what you see are you going to quit? Or are you going to see this through to the end and pay attention to all of it?" She wasn't backing down.

"Fine." Jarod acquiesced. "I'll cooperate, and I'll go wherever you want. I won't dig my heels in and refuse to move again. I'll keep going until we get to whatever end it is that you will consider the end. Is that what you want to hear?" He paused. "Please, I want to follow her."

"What is it that you are afraid is going to happen?" She asked him.

"It's Lyle!" Jarod shouted as if the name were an explanation and answer in and of itself.

"Therese doesn't seem to be afraid of him. Maybe you don't understand the situation as well as you think you do. Besides, didn't you lock your friend in a shipping container with him once?"

Jarod pointedly ignored her question. "If you try to tell me that I'm here to learn that there is something worth saving in everyone, Lyle included, we may as well be finished now."

"I just want to make sure that you are still paying attention - to everything, not just the things that you want to see."

"Please." He said again. Isabelle leveled a long appraising look at him.

"We can follow her." She agreed.

They caught up with Therese far more quickly than Jarod had expected (given that Isabelle insisted that they take the 'long' way to get to her). It was almost funny how quickly jumping from one place to another had become 'normal' and riding elevators and walking down hallways had become unusual. He had been adamant about hurrying. He had a very bad feeling that something atrocious was about to happen. They were dealing with Lyle after all, but Isabelle had insisted.

It would have taken up more time than Jarod was willing to give to argue the point with her. He suspected she was trying to get him to calm down completely, but that was not going to happen in any circumstance that involved Lyle. Isabelle led him straight to the same sublevel hallway that they had been in earlier - the one that housed the boy's room.

"You do know where you are going." He accused.

"No, Jarod, I just pay attention."

He had to admit that she had a point. He could have pieced the overheard conversations together in the same way if he had bothered to do it. He had been too busy flipping out to do much constructive thinking. There was a reason he didn't indulge in panic very often.

There was no sign of Lyle which helped Jarod's blood pressure somewhat, but he still was carrying a huge sense of foreboding. Therese had halted just outside of the boy's door, and she had every appearance of someone who was carrying on a conversation with herself. Jarod, having been around Ethan, recognized what was happening. He just wondered who it was that was talking to her. It seemed from the phrases that Therese was muttering that someone didn't want her to go into that room.

"He needs me." She was practically pleading. "Even Bobby said he needs me. I can't just leave him alone." She paused with that far off listening attitude she had displayed earlier. She obviously didn't like what she was hearing because her hands were clenching at her sides.

"I don't care!" Her voice returned loud and clear, and Jarod panned the area to see if it had attracted any unwanted attention. The hallway, however, remained clear despite the increasing volume of Therese's voice as she argued with whoever was in her head.

"I don't care what they want. I don't care what they do. He's my friend, and I'm not going to abandon him!" The argument appeared to reach a fever pitch as Therese's hands went up instinctively to cover her ears as though she were going to drown out the sound. It was disconcerting to watch only one side of the heated discussion. What exactly was being said to her? They or it (what reference word should he use, it surely wasn't Catherine trying to dissuade her from trying to help her friend) didn't want her going into that room. Why?

"I'll deal with it." Therese's voice had turned insistent. Of course, the boy's room would be monitored. Maybe she was going to get caught by Raines?

"I know that! I'm not stupid." Maybe it was Catherine, and she was trying to warn her that something was going to happen to them? Therese ended the conversation abruptly with a shouted "No!" followed by a softer "you can't stop me."

Jarod's sense of foreboding increased as he watched her shake off her agitation and coax a resounding click from the locking mechanism on the door. There was something wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. She stepped into the room, and Jarod followed her as she closed it behind her. He felt the wave of nausea wash over him as he again took in the boy's appearance, but he bit it down.

The boy hadn't noticed her entrance. He was still huddled on the bed making that heart wrenching, half swallowed keening noise. Jarod looked at Therese. Her eyes had misted over, but she quickly wiped them dry with the backs of her hands and moved towards the figure on the bed. Her voice was soft and almost caressing as she paused in front of him.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry." She received no acknowledgment of her words and reached out to place a light hand on his head. The boy jerked back as if he had been burned with a gasp of pain as the movement wrenched his ribs. He kept his head ducked down as if he were afraid to make eye contact with anyone. Jarod knew the type of 'encouragement' used to instill that response, and he found himself biting back another wave of nausea.

"Nobody's baby." The boy's stilted voice broke out suddenly with a sob attached. "I'm nobody's baby." He repeated. Therese knelt in front of the bed but was experienced enough to know not to try to touch him again.

"Jay . . ." She started, but the boy practically shouted to cut her off before she could continue.

"No!" He gasped out. "There is no Jay. There is only Project Gemini." The words started to come faster as though flood water was spilling over the top of a levy. His voice was quiet as if breathing deeply enough to make the words louder was not possible, but they were filled with a venom that made them sound more hissed than spoken. "Not real. He's not real. I'm not real. No I. Backup copy. In case original is damaged. Not real. Only to be used. No name. No feeling. Not real. Work. Do as told. Not real. No choices. No name. No name. No name. Backup. Do. Not. Erase. Not real!"

The boy resettled into the whimpering noise (having never lifted his head to look at her), and Therese stared at him for a moment as if she were deciding what words she should say. Jarod found himself thinking that there was no punishment large enough to compensate for the damage that Raines had inflicted on the world. How did you even begin to try to unravel the kind of damage that had been done here? He had struggled to find a way to break the ice with his own Gemini, and he hadn't been anywhere close to as damaged as this boy clearly was. Therese started simply.

"I know your name. You do have one. It's J.J. I call you Jay for short because I'm your best friend, and I'm allowed." She paused to see if he would react, but he only continued with the muffled keening noise. She kept talking.

"You are no one's back up copy. You are you. I know because I know you. I know all about you. I know that you tuck your pencil behind your ear when you stop to think when you are making notes on a project. I know that you lost your first tooth when you fell doing a sim when you were five. I know that you sleep with your back against the wall because it makes you feel safer. You always double knot your shoelaces. You start running your fingers through your hair when you get tired, and it gets all ruffled looking. You recite prime numbers when you need to get your brain to shut off so that you can sleep. When you get free time, you build model planes. Your favorite color is blue, but you won't tell me why. I don't badger you about it because everyone deserves to have some things that are private. You deserve to have some things that are private."

The boy quieted but still didn't look up. Therese paused for a moment taking in the fact that she was getting through to him and (Jarod suspected) trying to pick the next set of appropriate words. He didn't know how she knew what to say, but it seemed to be working.

"Those things are all you. They're the real you. The one that Dr. Raines wants you to forget." The boy had stiffened when she pronounced the name, but he was still listening to her. She noticed the response and pushed ahead.

"He doesn't want you to be you, Jay. If he gets you to give up who you are, then he wins. We can't let him win. You can't let him win. I need you to be you. I need my best friend. I need you to shake it off and come back to me. You need to fight him, Jay. Please." She paused again for a moment, but there was no change in J.J.'s demeanor. She switched conversational tracks.

"We're going to go away from here someday. You and I are going to leave. We're going to get away from him, but we can't do that if you give up. We can't do that if you don't push him out of your head. You can't let him get to you." Jarod felt a moment of concern when he heard what she was saying, but then he realized that her back was to the surveillance camera and that she was speaking too softly to be picked up by the audio feed (whether it was accident or design, whoever was monitoring the room would not be able to tell what she was saying).

"You can play along when you're with him. You can say whatever you need to say to keep him from hurting you, but you can't let him get in here." She reached up and touched the boy's (J.J.'s, Jarod corrected his thoughts) head. He stiffened again but didn't pull away this time.

"I don't know what all he said to you. I'm sorry that he hurt you. I'm here now. It's all going to be okay, but I need you to fight. Can you do that for me? Please, Jay, I know you are in there. Push past all the stuff that he wants you to believe. That's what isn't real. You and I are real, and I need you back here with me. Please?"

His hands had dropped down to his sides, and Therese reached out and took one in each of her own. He didn't react to her touch at all this time. His head was still buried, but Therese looked up at him waiting for him to make a move. She was still for a few moments, then she continued to talk to him in a reassuring tone.

"I was so worried about you. I've been looking and looking, but there wasn't anything about where they had taken you in any of the computer records. I guess that means that they are on to me. We figured that was about to happen, remember? I'm just going to have to get sneakier. I don't want to go through that again. It's been the longest three weeks of my life. I even went checking down on SL27. As much money as we rake in for this place, you would think that they would be able to afford to repair a little fire damage." She paused as if waiting for the standard response to some inside joke. Some of the tension seemed to be draining out of the teenager's body, but he was still unresponsive.

She took a deep breath and continued with a catch in her voice. "I was scared. I was scared that I lost you. I can't lose you. Jay, baby, look at me, please?"

J.J. slowly raised his head and looked down at her with dull, lifeless eyes. Jarod watched as he focused on her face and something like hope flickered across the back of his gaze. After a few moments the boy blinked, and his eyes lit up in recognition. His voice was still raspy from the earlier abuse, but he sounded infinitely better than he had the last time Jarod had heard him speak.

"Tessa?" He questioned.

"That's right." She replied in a tone that was somewhere between relieved and joyous.

"It's cold in here." He stated somewhat petulantly. She chuckled as she picked herself up off the floor.

"It's good to have you back."

Jarod watched as the two positioned themselves on the bed in a familiar manner that spoke volumes about the number of times they must have found themselves in similar situations. They were so practiced that they settled in without saying a word.

Jarod wasn't sure whether that was more comforting or disquieting. How often had they had to deal with the aftermath of one of Raines' episodes? Therese sat on the bed with her back against the wall, and J.J. adjusted himself until he found (what Jarod could only assume was) a relatively non painful position with his head resting in her lap. When he was settled and covered with the paltry excuse for a blanket that had adorned the bed, the two finally spoke again.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know." She reassured him. J.J. sighed as Therese threaded through his hair with her fingers.

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"You need to rest." She said somewhat admonishingly.

"Later. Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Tell me what we'll do when we get out. Tell me about all the places we're going to see." He requested sounding for all the world like a little boy asking for an oft repeated, favorite bed time story.

As Therese began to talk, Jarod found himself feeling deeply uncomfortable. Now that he knew that J.J. was being taken care of, he felt rather voyeuristic. He felt like he was observing something deeply private. He shouldn't be listening to their plans for a future; that was between the two of them. That thought reminded him of the camera.

"Who's watching them? How long do they have before a sweeper comes to drag her out of here?" Jarod demanded.

"I don't know, and I don't know." Isabelle held up her hands in a defensive gesture before Jarod could reply. "I'm only repeating myself because it doesn't seem to have sunken in the first eight times that I've told you."

"Can you take me to find out?"

"That I can do." She offered him her hand.