Disclaimer in part 1
Guilty
Part 10/?
by imagine
Despite assurances from Parker and Sydney, there was a large part of Jarod that refused to believe he would ever see his mother again, let alone hold her. He closed his eyes and held her tighter, telling himself over and over that she was real and promising himself she would be safe. Things would not end the way they did when he was a boy at the Centre.
However, in a matter of seconds, he relived the excitement associated with his parent's pending arrival and the devastating grief that overcame him moments later, when he was told their plane had crashed. His nightmares were riddled with variations of that day, some more macabre and violent than others; and, as he stood with his mother in his arms, Jarod fought to hide the scars of the childhood memory he had spent decades trying to erase.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Opening his eyes slowly, Jarod kissed her on the cheek and pulled back so he could look at her. Nodding, he forced a smile for her, convincing himself that she would attribute his trembling to the relief of the moment and not question him further.
"I am better than I have been in a long time," he said.
Margaret returned the smile and brought one hand to the side of his face. His skin was smooth and damp from a fresh shave and her smile grew at the realization he had prepared for their visit. Obviously, someone was looking out for her son; someone was treating him with the respect he deserved and Margaret was not only relieved, she was grateful. Her thumb slid carefully over his cheek and under his eye, until the trace of moisture she felt began to melt the smile she held.
"Jarod?"
He had never had someone worry about him, never had someone look at him with the same kind of care as his mother and, under her scrutiny, Jarod shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Though he'd had no intention of revealing his fears, her soft touch and the gentle, questioning way she said his name brought the words to his lips. He closed his eyes as she swept the back of her forefinger under his lashes, then lowered his head so she could not see his face.
"When I woke up in the hospital, and they told me you weren't brought in with me," he took a deep breath, glanced at her through his lashes and, finished in an unsure voice, "I thought I might never see you again."
Though his tone was hoarse and hesitant, it carried no hint of accusation; but she heard the question he was trying not to ask.
"Why did you leave me?"
The sight of him laying helpless at the side of the river flashed in her mind and the knot in her stomach rose to her throat. Swallowing hard, she dropped her eyes, but the visions of him in the hospital, forced them back to his face. Her voice was gone, her breaths short and, as she stared at him, she felt the blood rush from her face.
Jarod was standing in front of her and he deserved an explanation, she told herself. He deserved more than she could give him.
Her hand slid to his shoulder and down his arm but, refusing to allow her to break the physical connection, Jarod gripped it tenderly when it fell into his. He watched his mother closely, his concern turning into alarm when her legs buckled beneath her. He grabbed her as she reached out for support, pulling her to his chest as he carried the woman to a wooden chair beside the table.
Kneeling in front of her, Jarod slid his hand over his mother's forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat, while his left hand wrapped itself around her wrist, keeping a vague count of the rapid pulse. Panic rose inside him and, as he turned for help, Jarod found Jenna standing behind him holding out a bottle of water. With barely a nod of thanks, Jarod took the bottle and broke the seal on the cap.
"Mom, drink this."
Margaret did as she was told, but took only a few sips before handing the bottle back to her son.
"Better?"
She nodded, though she felt no less shaky than she had moments before. Her eyes followed him as he returned the bottle of water to the table. Security cameras were positioned in two corners and the sweepers were positioned on either side if the door, each silently reminding her to remain silent. Jenna was on the left, watching them with concern. Victor was on the right, watching them with disdain. Meanwhile, Jarod was kneeling in front of her, looking up with something she had not seen in years: love.
"I'm okay," she promised.
"Are you sure? I can have Sydney examine you and . ."
"It was just a panic attack. All the stress and excitement, I suppose." She brushed her hand across his forehead, revealing a small purplish bruise at the hairline. Gently tracing it with her thumb, she looked into his dark eyes, took a deep breath and, before she could stop herself, whispered, "I'm so sorry, Baby. This all my fault. Everything that has happened in the past three days, everything you've been through, is because of me."
"No," he insisted. Placing his hand over hers, he added pressure to stop her from confessing anything more. "None of this is your fault. The Centre did this to us."
"I left you."
"You called the ambulance."
"What kind of mother leaves her child alone, when he's hurt?" she countered. Refusing to consider how he had determined she had made the call, Margaret continued in a voice that was thick with condemnation, "You could have died. What kind of mother . .?"
"The kind of mother who believes she does not have any other choice," he said softly, "The kind of mother who believes that leaving will be less than damaging than staying."
Stunned by the sincerity and forgiveness in Jarod's voice, Margaret glanced at the sweepers behind him and pulled her hand from his. Anxiously, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the band that held it a ponytail and shook her head.
"You don't understand," she declared, weakly, "I knew they would come after us - come after me. I should have made you leave without me but I was being selfish and . ."
"No. None of this is your fault," he repeated, desperation seeping into his tone as he reached for her, "I had no intention of leaving you at that cabin. If you hadn't come with me, I would have stayed. Please, Mom, don't blame yourself. Blame them. Get angry with them. The Centre is responsible. Alex and Cox are responsible."
"I knew better," she murmured, continuing as if she had not heard his plea, "I knew they were afraid of the things I might show you, the things I might tell you. I knew that the longer we were together, the more danger I was putting you in; but I told myself I had more time before they found us. All I wanted was more time with you."
Not knowing what else to do, Jarod slipped his arms around his mother. Bringing her to his chest as she continued berating herself for putting him at risk, he spoke over her murmurs. Repeating that she was not at fault, he rocked her tenderly from side to side, holding her even after Margaret quieted and returned the embrace.
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"Well, as entertaining as voyeurism may be, I have had enough," Miss Parker snapped. "This is getting us nowhere."
Pushing the chair back as she stood, she paced the length of the dining room, purposely blocking the view of the video monitor. Seeing Jarod trying to console his mother, trying to convince her that her guilt was misplaced, and struggling with the fear that he would fail was almost as taxing as knowing there was nothing she could do to make things better for him. At the moment, like most of his life, Jarod was on his own.
"Miss Parker, please sit down. Dinner will be served in a few minutes," Cox replied.
"Forget about dinner," she spat. "I want answers."
"Answers?" he repeated, not bothering to hide his amusement, "What are the questions?"
"Well, to begin with," she demanded, glancing menacingly at Alex, "What is he doing here?"
"He's working with me on a special project."
"Does the Centre know about this project?"
"More or less."
"More or less," she repeated. Her eyes narrowing, they slid from Cox to Alex, "And, do they know that he's alive and helping in this project?"
"Would it matter, one way or the other?"
She sighed and looked at Sydney who shook his head. Standing the psychiatrist moved to her side, keeping his back to the monitor and Jarod's emotional reunion with his mother.
"So, tell me about this project," she dared, folding her arms across her chest, "What, exactly, does Jarod's mother have to do with it?"
"Jarod's mother is the project," Alex answered.
"Excuse me?"
"I am sure you are aware that other teams were put in place, years ago, to locate Jarod's family," Cox sighed.
"Yes," she agreed, "but I was not aware that you were leading one of them, or that you had located Margaret."
"We have been tracking her movements for some time," he admitted, "in the hopes she would lead us to what we were looking for."
"Jarod?"
He shook his head. "Something much more important, at this stage of the game, my dear Miss Parker. A few days ago, when Jarod located his mother, we decided to bring Margaret here, to ... interview her."
"You ran them off the road," Sydney accused, his face reddening, "Have you any idea the damage you could have done? If Jarod had been seriously injured . ."
"Relax," Alex hissed, pointing at the monitor, "Jarod is fine, isn't he? The man has more lives than I do."
"So, let me understand this," Miss Parker said, bringing the attention back to her with an increasingly hardening tone, "you brought Jarod's mother here and left Jarod on the outside?"
"Currently, our project revolves around Margaret only," Cox answered, "Besides, Jarod was in need of medical attention we were unable to provide, at the time."
"You had plenty of time before the storm hit," she pointed out, "You could have taken them both back to the Centre, where the facilities are much more ... conducive ... to interviews. You would have been heroes; bringing back Jarod and turning in his mother at the same time. Instead, you brought her here? You brought her to a safe house in the middle of nowhere. Why?"
"We have everything we need here."
She stared at them a moment, the wheels of her mind connecting his comments with what she'd discovered earlier, during her unofficial tour of the house. Alex stood and began restlessly pacing the back of the room, while Cox sipped at his drink, calmly looking beyond her at the monitor. In their own ways, each was waiting for her to continue the discussion.
"The three locked rooms," she breathed. Cox smiled as he sipped his drink, and nodded slightly. "Let me see them. Now."
Glancing at his watch, the man took a deep breath and, rising from his chair, motioned toward the door.
"It seems that, though Jarod and his mother are preparing for their meal, we still have some time before our dinner is served," he complained, "So, if you will follow me, Miss Parker, Alex and I will show you and Sydney the rooms in question."
As they filed into the hall, Miss Parker glanced at the monitor and asked, "How long have you been tracking Margaret's movements?"
"Long enough to know she holds the key to Jarod's future," Alex smiled. Holding the door, he waited for her to pass through, adding cryptically, "And yours."
-----------
"Mom, everything is going to be all right," he promised softly. Unbuttoning the flap over his shirt pocket, he reached in and retrieved a rolled up tissue. Dropping his eyes, he watched his fingers separate the top layer of the wad. Pushing the still crumpled section into his pants pocket, he dabbed her eyes with the fresh piece then handed it to her. "We're going to get out of here. Together."
"You have no idea what you're saying, Jarod."
"Yes, I do," he told her firmly, "I want our family to be together and I am willing to fight for it."
Turning away, Margaret looked at the guards, at the frozen window and at her own hands without a comment.
Slipping his hand under her chin, Jarod brought his mother's eyes back on him. "I am willing to fight for our family," he repeated, "Aren't you?"
"I'm tired," she answered wearily, "I'm just tired, Jarod."
"Then I'll fight for both of us. I won't . ."
"All right," Victor boomed, "that's enough talk. Dinner is getting cold."
Letting his hand fall to his lap, Jarod faced the Sweeper who was standing over the table of food. "Not now."
"Suit yourself," the Sweeper shrugged, "but it's not going to be here forever, you know."
"Jarod, he's right," Margaret said, patting her son's arm, "You're still recovering from the accident. You need to eat something. Besides," she smiled, when he looked at her, "I'm a little hungry, myself and that salad looks good."
Reluctantly, Jarod helped his mother move closer to the table. On her direction, he bypassed the soup and filled one of the four dinner plates with salad and bread, then placed the meal in front of her. He waited until she indicated the serving was sufficient, then moved to his seat, across from her. Waiting for him was a filled bowl of soup.
"What's this?"
"Hot water with vegetables and noodles. It's called soup," Victor answered sarcastically. "Don't say I never did anything for you."
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Jarod watched quietly as Victor served Jenna with the silver handled ladle; but, when the man picked up the remaining bowl, Jarod reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. Startled by the movement, the Sweeper stared at Jarod, but did nothing to counter the movement.
"Take this one."
"What?"
"I said, take this one," Jarod repeated, in a low voice. With his free hand, he lifted the bowl and held it out to the other man. "I'll get my own."
"Jarod, this is not necessary," Margaret whispered. "Please."
"Here, give it to me," Jenna interrupted, holding out her bowl to Jarod. "I'll take yours, and you take mine. You saw him pour it, mine is safe."
Shaking his head, Jarod leaned against the table and pushed the bowl closer to Victor. "I want him to take it," he growled, "I want to watch him eat the soup and whatever else he dished out for me."
"You think I put something in your soup?" Victor laughed "Look at you, you can barely stand, why the hell would I need to drug you any more than you already are?"
"I don't know," Jarod shot back, "Why did you force sedatives on me earlier?"
"You didn't," Jenna muttered in disbelief, "Tell me you didn't do what he's saying."
"I was told to keep him quiet and under control. The sedatives were authorized by Mr. Cox."
"Quiet and under control, huh?" she repeated. Raising one eyebrow she tipped her head toward the Pretender. "You did a great job."
Victor faced Jarod, openly sizing up the man. "She has a point. You are a little too coherent for someone who downed three sedatives."
"What can I say?" he smirked, "My body works through these things quickly."
"You son of a ..."
"Jarod, please, sit down," Margaret pleaded, moving between him and the Sweeper. His face was darker and his eyes harder than they had been and it frightened her. In an effort to calm him, she began stroking her son's arm, coaxing him to place the bowl back on the table. "Baby, this is all unnecessary. Please, sit down."
"Now look at what you've done. You've upset Mommy, Jarod."
"Stop being an ass and take the damn soup, Victor," Jenna demanded. "We're being watched, remember? How do you think all of this looks to Mr. Cox?"
"I don't give a damn .."
"If you ever want to get that transfer, you do," she spat, moving closer so her words would not be picked up by the surveillance equipment, "Right now, they're watching this and they're thinking that - maybe - you did exactly what Jarod is accusing you of. Maybe you slipped something unauthorized into his soup. Add that to the fact you gagged him in the ambulance and who knows what else, there's no telling how they will react. Miss Parker is the Chairman's daughter and you've already gotten yourself in hot water with her, do you really want to screw up again?"
"But I didn't put anything in his bowl," the man protested.
"Then you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"
His eyes darted from her to the camera to Jarod, who raised one eyebrow and lifted the bowl of soup a little higher.
"Fine," he breathed. Taking the bowl, he sat down. With a quick look around the table, he began spooning the soup into his mouth and, by the time Jarod filled his own bowl, Victor was waiting for seconds.
"Satisfied?"
"For now," Jarod answered, placing the ladle back in the pot.
"Jarod, I really wish you would stop this," Margaret scolded. Her voice was hoarse and, as she spoke, her eyes flicked anxiously between Victor and Jenna. "You're antagonizing people who could make life worse for you, for no reason. Now, sit down."
Without warning, she grabbed her son's arm and pushed him into the chair. Startled by his mother's actions, as well as her words, Jarod dropped the bowl and instinctively moved back as it shattered on the hard wood floor. Almost simultaneously, Victor let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.
Ignoring the Sweeper, Jarod looked at his mother in confusion but the woman refused to acknowledge him. Instead, she shook her head and tossed a handful of napkins on the puddle of soup. Crouching beside his mother, Jarod placed his hand over hers as she began picking up the shards of glass that peppered the floor.
"I'm sorry, Jarod," she whispered, pulling from his touch. "I just want you to be safe."
Without looking at him, she stood and walked away, carrying the soup-heavy napkins and glass shards to the far side of the room.
"Awww, what a shame. Mommy is mad at you and I took the last of the soup so you're going to go to bed hungry. This just isn't your day, is it?"
"Victor, shut up," Jenna snapped. "You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to."
"Jarod can use the extra dinner plate and make himself a salad," Margaret said, over her shoulder. After tossing her load into a small aluminum trash can in the corner of the room, she faced them and smiled, "It's better for him, anyway."
------------
The first room, across from the dining area, was small, no more than 11 X 7. Wooden shelves, filled with books of assorted types and sizes, lined all four walls and, at the far end of the room was a wooden desk holding two stacks of newspapers. Beneath the table was a small, vinyl padded stool.
Miss Parker approached the desk slowly. When she was standing in front of it, she glanced over her shoulder at the three men. Alex and Cox were watching her closely from the door while Sydney conducted his own inspection of the room by looking through the books that adorned the East wall.
"What have you got, Syd?"
He shook his head, and shot a curious look at Alex and Cox. "I'm not sure. So far, everything I've pulled from the shelves, is a transcript of one of Jarod's sims, including its ultimate use."
Turning toward the desk when Sydney headed for the North wall, Miss Parker fingered the newspapers in the first stack slowly, paying special attention to the dates printed on the banners.
"Alaska - September, 1996; Oregon - February, 1997; Arizona - May, 1998; North Carolina - May, 1999," Miss Parker read aloud. Then, dropping the rest of the papers, she faced the men and demanded, "What the hell is this?"
"Reference materials," Cox answered, spreading his arms looking around the room, "This room contains everything we used to locate Margaret and, at the same time, Jarod."
"Miss Parker, these shelves are filled with data concerning Kyle," he told her.
"And the West wall contains the information we've compiled about Major Charles and Emily," Alex added, "Jobs, acquaintances, aliases, you know the drill. We couldn't very well understand Jarod's mother if we didn't understand how her family operated."
Swinging back to the table, she lifted two of the publications from the first stack and sifted through them. In no time, she found articles reporting the outcome of one of Jarod's pretends. Taking two newspapers from the second stack, she repeated the process; only to find the same results.
"All these articles are at the Centre, in the red notebooks Jarod left behind. They've been analyzed hundreds of thousands of times," she said, facing them. "They told us close to nothing."
Alex shook his head, "Actually, Miss Parker, until now, they were never analyzed by me."
--------------
Moving to where Jenna was slumped in her chair, Jarod saw his mother glancing worriedly at the cameras. "It's all right, Mom. We have some time."
"What? How could you possibly know that?"
With a shrug, he lifted Jenna from her chair and shrugged. "I just do. Trust me."
Though she tried to push him away, her attempts were weak and Jarod carefully laid the woman on the floor at the far side of the room. Almost immediately, the her eyes fluttered and, after murmuring something about being sorry, the Sweeper fell silent.
Once she was quiet, Jarod relieved her of the gun holstered at her side then moved to where Victor was laid out. Unlike Jenna, the man made no attempt to fight back even after Jarod dragged him under the table and handcuffed each arm to a different table leg.
"I don't understand," Jarod admitted, "I only slipped him two pills. Considering his body weight, they should not have put him into such a deep sleep."
"Jarod, now is not the time," Margaret called impatiently, from the door.
"And she shouldn't be out at all," he continued, slipping handcuff keys into his pocket, "I didn't give her anything."
"Jarod, we can talk about this later. Please, we have to get out of here before .."
"I know," he smiled, moving toward his mother, "We can go now; it's just that I don't like not knowing why something didn't work out the way I planned."
Rubbing her forehead, she sighed when he stopped beside her. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
He stared at her, his expression blank as she reached into her sweater pocket. When she produced a small pill, and held it out to him, his eyes widened in understanding and locked onto hers.
"I only have the two of them left," she said, "they got caught in the stitching of the pocket and . ."
"You did this?" he asked, amazed. "This is what you meant when you said what I was doing was unnecessary?"
"I saw you palm the pills and drop them into the bowl of soup before you started the argument with Victor," she nodded, looking at the downed man for a moment before facing Jarod. "I had already spiked the pot so, essentially, you were giving him a double dose and I didn't want you to get hurt making the attempt."
----------------
"Now, can we retire to the dining room and . ."
"Not on your life, Cox," she interrupted sharply, "There are three locked rooms on this level and I want to see all of them."
"After dinner."
"Now."
"Miss Parker, the purpose of the dinner tonight was so that we could observe Jarod's interaction with his mother."
"I'm sure you're taping it," she replied, "You can watch it later."
The scowl on his face was more than enough evidence that Miss Parker was trying his patience, a fact the brunette took pride in. When the man started back to the dining room, she grabbed his arm and pointed toward the end of the hall.
"The second room is next to the library, I believe."
"We may as well do as she asked," Alex grinned, "All you're doing by arguing with her is delaying the inevitable." Leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, he did not bother to hide the fact that he was enjoying watching Cox and Parker fight for control of the situation.
"All right," the man conceded, turning his hard glare on Miss Parker, "I will show you the second room now; but the third will wait until after we've put Jarod and his mother back in their separate rooms."
She glanced at Sydney who looked at his watch and nodded. "I think that's a reasonable suggestion, Parker."
Releasing a heavy sigh, she nodded in agreement. "Then, let's get this show on the road."
Like the first, the second room had no windows; however it was a bit larger. The lights were fluorescent and a ceiling fan made slow revolutions above them. In the corner was a high table with an attached magnifying glass. Beneath the table was a stack of books. When Miss Parker and Sydney scanned the titles, they looked back at Alex and Cox with confusion.
"All of these books pertain to ancient documents," Sydney stated. Lifting one, he said, "This one is about the types of ink and paper used; while this one," he lifted a second book, "is about the types of seals used by various abbeys between the 12th and 17th centuries."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were planning on authenticating the scrolls," Miss Parker said, her eyes narrowing as she watched both men, "But we all know that's never going to happen."
"And why is that?" Alex asked.
"Because my father jumped out of a plane with them," she snapped. Then, crossing the room in two strides, she stopped just inches from him and growled, "Or, are you trying to tell me my father is alive and hiding somewhere with the scrolls?"
He shook his head and stepped back as he answered, "We're not the least bit interested in your father or what he had with him when he took his swan dive. We're interested in finding the real thing."
---------------
"How many of these did you use?"
She shrugged. "Seven, but they were a combination of things; I don't know exactly what they are because no one ever told me. I used the medication they've been trying to force on me for two days."
"Well, they seem to have done the job," Jarod grinned, looking back at Victor.
"Now, can we go?" she asked, swinging the door open.
"Of course."
Taking his mother's hand, Jarod stepped in front of her and, after checking both ends of the hall, turned away from the stairs. At once, Margaret pulled back, bringing him to a stop.
"Jarod, what are you doing?" she demanded, "The exit is this way."
"The stairs are in view of the dining room. If we go that way, we'll have Alex and Cox all over us in seconds," he told her, as he pulled her toward Miss Parker's room, "We'll be safer going this way; besides, there's something we need to get in here."
Peering anxiously over his shoulder while he worked the lock on the door, Margaret whispered, "Jarod, if we stay in this house, they'll find us."
"Not right away," he said, ushering her inside and closing the door. "This room does not have any surveillance equipment."
"Now, how in the world would you know that?"
"Miss Parker swept the room, earlier," he answered, opening the closet door, "She didn't find any."
"And you trust her to tell you the truth?"
Hunched over the bags, with his hands firmly wrapped around their straps, Jarod swung them over his shoulder and faced his mother.
"Yes," he said, flatly, "With my life."
--------------
TBC
Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)
Guilty
Part 10/?
by imagine
Despite assurances from Parker and Sydney, there was a large part of Jarod that refused to believe he would ever see his mother again, let alone hold her. He closed his eyes and held her tighter, telling himself over and over that she was real and promising himself she would be safe. Things would not end the way they did when he was a boy at the Centre.
However, in a matter of seconds, he relived the excitement associated with his parent's pending arrival and the devastating grief that overcame him moments later, when he was told their plane had crashed. His nightmares were riddled with variations of that day, some more macabre and violent than others; and, as he stood with his mother in his arms, Jarod fought to hide the scars of the childhood memory he had spent decades trying to erase.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Opening his eyes slowly, Jarod kissed her on the cheek and pulled back so he could look at her. Nodding, he forced a smile for her, convincing himself that she would attribute his trembling to the relief of the moment and not question him further.
"I am better than I have been in a long time," he said.
Margaret returned the smile and brought one hand to the side of his face. His skin was smooth and damp from a fresh shave and her smile grew at the realization he had prepared for their visit. Obviously, someone was looking out for her son; someone was treating him with the respect he deserved and Margaret was not only relieved, she was grateful. Her thumb slid carefully over his cheek and under his eye, until the trace of moisture she felt began to melt the smile she held.
"Jarod?"
He had never had someone worry about him, never had someone look at him with the same kind of care as his mother and, under her scrutiny, Jarod shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Though he'd had no intention of revealing his fears, her soft touch and the gentle, questioning way she said his name brought the words to his lips. He closed his eyes as she swept the back of her forefinger under his lashes, then lowered his head so she could not see his face.
"When I woke up in the hospital, and they told me you weren't brought in with me," he took a deep breath, glanced at her through his lashes and, finished in an unsure voice, "I thought I might never see you again."
Though his tone was hoarse and hesitant, it carried no hint of accusation; but she heard the question he was trying not to ask.
"Why did you leave me?"
The sight of him laying helpless at the side of the river flashed in her mind and the knot in her stomach rose to her throat. Swallowing hard, she dropped her eyes, but the visions of him in the hospital, forced them back to his face. Her voice was gone, her breaths short and, as she stared at him, she felt the blood rush from her face.
Jarod was standing in front of her and he deserved an explanation, she told herself. He deserved more than she could give him.
Her hand slid to his shoulder and down his arm but, refusing to allow her to break the physical connection, Jarod gripped it tenderly when it fell into his. He watched his mother closely, his concern turning into alarm when her legs buckled beneath her. He grabbed her as she reached out for support, pulling her to his chest as he carried the woman to a wooden chair beside the table.
Kneeling in front of her, Jarod slid his hand over his mother's forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat, while his left hand wrapped itself around her wrist, keeping a vague count of the rapid pulse. Panic rose inside him and, as he turned for help, Jarod found Jenna standing behind him holding out a bottle of water. With barely a nod of thanks, Jarod took the bottle and broke the seal on the cap.
"Mom, drink this."
Margaret did as she was told, but took only a few sips before handing the bottle back to her son.
"Better?"
She nodded, though she felt no less shaky than she had moments before. Her eyes followed him as he returned the bottle of water to the table. Security cameras were positioned in two corners and the sweepers were positioned on either side if the door, each silently reminding her to remain silent. Jenna was on the left, watching them with concern. Victor was on the right, watching them with disdain. Meanwhile, Jarod was kneeling in front of her, looking up with something she had not seen in years: love.
"I'm okay," she promised.
"Are you sure? I can have Sydney examine you and . ."
"It was just a panic attack. All the stress and excitement, I suppose." She brushed her hand across his forehead, revealing a small purplish bruise at the hairline. Gently tracing it with her thumb, she looked into his dark eyes, took a deep breath and, before she could stop herself, whispered, "I'm so sorry, Baby. This all my fault. Everything that has happened in the past three days, everything you've been through, is because of me."
"No," he insisted. Placing his hand over hers, he added pressure to stop her from confessing anything more. "None of this is your fault. The Centre did this to us."
"I left you."
"You called the ambulance."
"What kind of mother leaves her child alone, when he's hurt?" she countered. Refusing to consider how he had determined she had made the call, Margaret continued in a voice that was thick with condemnation, "You could have died. What kind of mother . .?"
"The kind of mother who believes she does not have any other choice," he said softly, "The kind of mother who believes that leaving will be less than damaging than staying."
Stunned by the sincerity and forgiveness in Jarod's voice, Margaret glanced at the sweepers behind him and pulled her hand from his. Anxiously, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at the band that held it a ponytail and shook her head.
"You don't understand," she declared, weakly, "I knew they would come after us - come after me. I should have made you leave without me but I was being selfish and . ."
"No. None of this is your fault," he repeated, desperation seeping into his tone as he reached for her, "I had no intention of leaving you at that cabin. If you hadn't come with me, I would have stayed. Please, Mom, don't blame yourself. Blame them. Get angry with them. The Centre is responsible. Alex and Cox are responsible."
"I knew better," she murmured, continuing as if she had not heard his plea, "I knew they were afraid of the things I might show you, the things I might tell you. I knew that the longer we were together, the more danger I was putting you in; but I told myself I had more time before they found us. All I wanted was more time with you."
Not knowing what else to do, Jarod slipped his arms around his mother. Bringing her to his chest as she continued berating herself for putting him at risk, he spoke over her murmurs. Repeating that she was not at fault, he rocked her tenderly from side to side, holding her even after Margaret quieted and returned the embrace.
-----------
"Well, as entertaining as voyeurism may be, I have had enough," Miss Parker snapped. "This is getting us nowhere."
Pushing the chair back as she stood, she paced the length of the dining room, purposely blocking the view of the video monitor. Seeing Jarod trying to console his mother, trying to convince her that her guilt was misplaced, and struggling with the fear that he would fail was almost as taxing as knowing there was nothing she could do to make things better for him. At the moment, like most of his life, Jarod was on his own.
"Miss Parker, please sit down. Dinner will be served in a few minutes," Cox replied.
"Forget about dinner," she spat. "I want answers."
"Answers?" he repeated, not bothering to hide his amusement, "What are the questions?"
"Well, to begin with," she demanded, glancing menacingly at Alex, "What is he doing here?"
"He's working with me on a special project."
"Does the Centre know about this project?"
"More or less."
"More or less," she repeated. Her eyes narrowing, they slid from Cox to Alex, "And, do they know that he's alive and helping in this project?"
"Would it matter, one way or the other?"
She sighed and looked at Sydney who shook his head. Standing the psychiatrist moved to her side, keeping his back to the monitor and Jarod's emotional reunion with his mother.
"So, tell me about this project," she dared, folding her arms across her chest, "What, exactly, does Jarod's mother have to do with it?"
"Jarod's mother is the project," Alex answered.
"Excuse me?"
"I am sure you are aware that other teams were put in place, years ago, to locate Jarod's family," Cox sighed.
"Yes," she agreed, "but I was not aware that you were leading one of them, or that you had located Margaret."
"We have been tracking her movements for some time," he admitted, "in the hopes she would lead us to what we were looking for."
"Jarod?"
He shook his head. "Something much more important, at this stage of the game, my dear Miss Parker. A few days ago, when Jarod located his mother, we decided to bring Margaret here, to ... interview her."
"You ran them off the road," Sydney accused, his face reddening, "Have you any idea the damage you could have done? If Jarod had been seriously injured . ."
"Relax," Alex hissed, pointing at the monitor, "Jarod is fine, isn't he? The man has more lives than I do."
"So, let me understand this," Miss Parker said, bringing the attention back to her with an increasingly hardening tone, "you brought Jarod's mother here and left Jarod on the outside?"
"Currently, our project revolves around Margaret only," Cox answered, "Besides, Jarod was in need of medical attention we were unable to provide, at the time."
"You had plenty of time before the storm hit," she pointed out, "You could have taken them both back to the Centre, where the facilities are much more ... conducive ... to interviews. You would have been heroes; bringing back Jarod and turning in his mother at the same time. Instead, you brought her here? You brought her to a safe house in the middle of nowhere. Why?"
"We have everything we need here."
She stared at them a moment, the wheels of her mind connecting his comments with what she'd discovered earlier, during her unofficial tour of the house. Alex stood and began restlessly pacing the back of the room, while Cox sipped at his drink, calmly looking beyond her at the monitor. In their own ways, each was waiting for her to continue the discussion.
"The three locked rooms," she breathed. Cox smiled as he sipped his drink, and nodded slightly. "Let me see them. Now."
Glancing at his watch, the man took a deep breath and, rising from his chair, motioned toward the door.
"It seems that, though Jarod and his mother are preparing for their meal, we still have some time before our dinner is served," he complained, "So, if you will follow me, Miss Parker, Alex and I will show you and Sydney the rooms in question."
As they filed into the hall, Miss Parker glanced at the monitor and asked, "How long have you been tracking Margaret's movements?"
"Long enough to know she holds the key to Jarod's future," Alex smiled. Holding the door, he waited for her to pass through, adding cryptically, "And yours."
-----------
"Mom, everything is going to be all right," he promised softly. Unbuttoning the flap over his shirt pocket, he reached in and retrieved a rolled up tissue. Dropping his eyes, he watched his fingers separate the top layer of the wad. Pushing the still crumpled section into his pants pocket, he dabbed her eyes with the fresh piece then handed it to her. "We're going to get out of here. Together."
"You have no idea what you're saying, Jarod."
"Yes, I do," he told her firmly, "I want our family to be together and I am willing to fight for it."
Turning away, Margaret looked at the guards, at the frozen window and at her own hands without a comment.
Slipping his hand under her chin, Jarod brought his mother's eyes back on him. "I am willing to fight for our family," he repeated, "Aren't you?"
"I'm tired," she answered wearily, "I'm just tired, Jarod."
"Then I'll fight for both of us. I won't . ."
"All right," Victor boomed, "that's enough talk. Dinner is getting cold."
Letting his hand fall to his lap, Jarod faced the Sweeper who was standing over the table of food. "Not now."
"Suit yourself," the Sweeper shrugged, "but it's not going to be here forever, you know."
"Jarod, he's right," Margaret said, patting her son's arm, "You're still recovering from the accident. You need to eat something. Besides," she smiled, when he looked at her, "I'm a little hungry, myself and that salad looks good."
Reluctantly, Jarod helped his mother move closer to the table. On her direction, he bypassed the soup and filled one of the four dinner plates with salad and bread, then placed the meal in front of her. He waited until she indicated the serving was sufficient, then moved to his seat, across from her. Waiting for him was a filled bowl of soup.
"What's this?"
"Hot water with vegetables and noodles. It's called soup," Victor answered sarcastically. "Don't say I never did anything for you."
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Jarod watched quietly as Victor served Jenna with the silver handled ladle; but, when the man picked up the remaining bowl, Jarod reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. Startled by the movement, the Sweeper stared at Jarod, but did nothing to counter the movement.
"Take this one."
"What?"
"I said, take this one," Jarod repeated, in a low voice. With his free hand, he lifted the bowl and held it out to the other man. "I'll get my own."
"Jarod, this is not necessary," Margaret whispered. "Please."
"Here, give it to me," Jenna interrupted, holding out her bowl to Jarod. "I'll take yours, and you take mine. You saw him pour it, mine is safe."
Shaking his head, Jarod leaned against the table and pushed the bowl closer to Victor. "I want him to take it," he growled, "I want to watch him eat the soup and whatever else he dished out for me."
"You think I put something in your soup?" Victor laughed "Look at you, you can barely stand, why the hell would I need to drug you any more than you already are?"
"I don't know," Jarod shot back, "Why did you force sedatives on me earlier?"
"You didn't," Jenna muttered in disbelief, "Tell me you didn't do what he's saying."
"I was told to keep him quiet and under control. The sedatives were authorized by Mr. Cox."
"Quiet and under control, huh?" she repeated. Raising one eyebrow she tipped her head toward the Pretender. "You did a great job."
Victor faced Jarod, openly sizing up the man. "She has a point. You are a little too coherent for someone who downed three sedatives."
"What can I say?" he smirked, "My body works through these things quickly."
"You son of a ..."
"Jarod, please, sit down," Margaret pleaded, moving between him and the Sweeper. His face was darker and his eyes harder than they had been and it frightened her. In an effort to calm him, she began stroking her son's arm, coaxing him to place the bowl back on the table. "Baby, this is all unnecessary. Please, sit down."
"Now look at what you've done. You've upset Mommy, Jarod."
"Stop being an ass and take the damn soup, Victor," Jenna demanded. "We're being watched, remember? How do you think all of this looks to Mr. Cox?"
"I don't give a damn .."
"If you ever want to get that transfer, you do," she spat, moving closer so her words would not be picked up by the surveillance equipment, "Right now, they're watching this and they're thinking that - maybe - you did exactly what Jarod is accusing you of. Maybe you slipped something unauthorized into his soup. Add that to the fact you gagged him in the ambulance and who knows what else, there's no telling how they will react. Miss Parker is the Chairman's daughter and you've already gotten yourself in hot water with her, do you really want to screw up again?"
"But I didn't put anything in his bowl," the man protested.
"Then you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"
His eyes darted from her to the camera to Jarod, who raised one eyebrow and lifted the bowl of soup a little higher.
"Fine," he breathed. Taking the bowl, he sat down. With a quick look around the table, he began spooning the soup into his mouth and, by the time Jarod filled his own bowl, Victor was waiting for seconds.
"Satisfied?"
"For now," Jarod answered, placing the ladle back in the pot.
"Jarod, I really wish you would stop this," Margaret scolded. Her voice was hoarse and, as she spoke, her eyes flicked anxiously between Victor and Jenna. "You're antagonizing people who could make life worse for you, for no reason. Now, sit down."
Without warning, she grabbed her son's arm and pushed him into the chair. Startled by his mother's actions, as well as her words, Jarod dropped the bowl and instinctively moved back as it shattered on the hard wood floor. Almost simultaneously, Victor let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.
Ignoring the Sweeper, Jarod looked at his mother in confusion but the woman refused to acknowledge him. Instead, she shook her head and tossed a handful of napkins on the puddle of soup. Crouching beside his mother, Jarod placed his hand over hers as she began picking up the shards of glass that peppered the floor.
"I'm sorry, Jarod," she whispered, pulling from his touch. "I just want you to be safe."
Without looking at him, she stood and walked away, carrying the soup-heavy napkins and glass shards to the far side of the room.
"Awww, what a shame. Mommy is mad at you and I took the last of the soup so you're going to go to bed hungry. This just isn't your day, is it?"
"Victor, shut up," Jenna snapped. "You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to."
"Jarod can use the extra dinner plate and make himself a salad," Margaret said, over her shoulder. After tossing her load into a small aluminum trash can in the corner of the room, she faced them and smiled, "It's better for him, anyway."
------------
The first room, across from the dining area, was small, no more than 11 X 7. Wooden shelves, filled with books of assorted types and sizes, lined all four walls and, at the far end of the room was a wooden desk holding two stacks of newspapers. Beneath the table was a small, vinyl padded stool.
Miss Parker approached the desk slowly. When she was standing in front of it, she glanced over her shoulder at the three men. Alex and Cox were watching her closely from the door while Sydney conducted his own inspection of the room by looking through the books that adorned the East wall.
"What have you got, Syd?"
He shook his head, and shot a curious look at Alex and Cox. "I'm not sure. So far, everything I've pulled from the shelves, is a transcript of one of Jarod's sims, including its ultimate use."
Turning toward the desk when Sydney headed for the North wall, Miss Parker fingered the newspapers in the first stack slowly, paying special attention to the dates printed on the banners.
"Alaska - September, 1996; Oregon - February, 1997; Arizona - May, 1998; North Carolina - May, 1999," Miss Parker read aloud. Then, dropping the rest of the papers, she faced the men and demanded, "What the hell is this?"
"Reference materials," Cox answered, spreading his arms looking around the room, "This room contains everything we used to locate Margaret and, at the same time, Jarod."
"Miss Parker, these shelves are filled with data concerning Kyle," he told her.
"And the West wall contains the information we've compiled about Major Charles and Emily," Alex added, "Jobs, acquaintances, aliases, you know the drill. We couldn't very well understand Jarod's mother if we didn't understand how her family operated."
Swinging back to the table, she lifted two of the publications from the first stack and sifted through them. In no time, she found articles reporting the outcome of one of Jarod's pretends. Taking two newspapers from the second stack, she repeated the process; only to find the same results.
"All these articles are at the Centre, in the red notebooks Jarod left behind. They've been analyzed hundreds of thousands of times," she said, facing them. "They told us close to nothing."
Alex shook his head, "Actually, Miss Parker, until now, they were never analyzed by me."
--------------
Moving to where Jenna was slumped in her chair, Jarod saw his mother glancing worriedly at the cameras. "It's all right, Mom. We have some time."
"What? How could you possibly know that?"
With a shrug, he lifted Jenna from her chair and shrugged. "I just do. Trust me."
Though she tried to push him away, her attempts were weak and Jarod carefully laid the woman on the floor at the far side of the room. Almost immediately, the her eyes fluttered and, after murmuring something about being sorry, the Sweeper fell silent.
Once she was quiet, Jarod relieved her of the gun holstered at her side then moved to where Victor was laid out. Unlike Jenna, the man made no attempt to fight back even after Jarod dragged him under the table and handcuffed each arm to a different table leg.
"I don't understand," Jarod admitted, "I only slipped him two pills. Considering his body weight, they should not have put him into such a deep sleep."
"Jarod, now is not the time," Margaret called impatiently, from the door.
"And she shouldn't be out at all," he continued, slipping handcuff keys into his pocket, "I didn't give her anything."
"Jarod, we can talk about this later. Please, we have to get out of here before .."
"I know," he smiled, moving toward his mother, "We can go now; it's just that I don't like not knowing why something didn't work out the way I planned."
Rubbing her forehead, she sighed when he stopped beside her. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
He stared at her, his expression blank as she reached into her sweater pocket. When she produced a small pill, and held it out to him, his eyes widened in understanding and locked onto hers.
"I only have the two of them left," she said, "they got caught in the stitching of the pocket and . ."
"You did this?" he asked, amazed. "This is what you meant when you said what I was doing was unnecessary?"
"I saw you palm the pills and drop them into the bowl of soup before you started the argument with Victor," she nodded, looking at the downed man for a moment before facing Jarod. "I had already spiked the pot so, essentially, you were giving him a double dose and I didn't want you to get hurt making the attempt."
----------------
"Now, can we retire to the dining room and . ."
"Not on your life, Cox," she interrupted sharply, "There are three locked rooms on this level and I want to see all of them."
"After dinner."
"Now."
"Miss Parker, the purpose of the dinner tonight was so that we could observe Jarod's interaction with his mother."
"I'm sure you're taping it," she replied, "You can watch it later."
The scowl on his face was more than enough evidence that Miss Parker was trying his patience, a fact the brunette took pride in. When the man started back to the dining room, she grabbed his arm and pointed toward the end of the hall.
"The second room is next to the library, I believe."
"We may as well do as she asked," Alex grinned, "All you're doing by arguing with her is delaying the inevitable." Leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, he did not bother to hide the fact that he was enjoying watching Cox and Parker fight for control of the situation.
"All right," the man conceded, turning his hard glare on Miss Parker, "I will show you the second room now; but the third will wait until after we've put Jarod and his mother back in their separate rooms."
She glanced at Sydney who looked at his watch and nodded. "I think that's a reasonable suggestion, Parker."
Releasing a heavy sigh, she nodded in agreement. "Then, let's get this show on the road."
Like the first, the second room had no windows; however it was a bit larger. The lights were fluorescent and a ceiling fan made slow revolutions above them. In the corner was a high table with an attached magnifying glass. Beneath the table was a stack of books. When Miss Parker and Sydney scanned the titles, they looked back at Alex and Cox with confusion.
"All of these books pertain to ancient documents," Sydney stated. Lifting one, he said, "This one is about the types of ink and paper used; while this one," he lifted a second book, "is about the types of seals used by various abbeys between the 12th and 17th centuries."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were planning on authenticating the scrolls," Miss Parker said, her eyes narrowing as she watched both men, "But we all know that's never going to happen."
"And why is that?" Alex asked.
"Because my father jumped out of a plane with them," she snapped. Then, crossing the room in two strides, she stopped just inches from him and growled, "Or, are you trying to tell me my father is alive and hiding somewhere with the scrolls?"
He shook his head and stepped back as he answered, "We're not the least bit interested in your father or what he had with him when he took his swan dive. We're interested in finding the real thing."
---------------
"How many of these did you use?"
She shrugged. "Seven, but they were a combination of things; I don't know exactly what they are because no one ever told me. I used the medication they've been trying to force on me for two days."
"Well, they seem to have done the job," Jarod grinned, looking back at Victor.
"Now, can we go?" she asked, swinging the door open.
"Of course."
Taking his mother's hand, Jarod stepped in front of her and, after checking both ends of the hall, turned away from the stairs. At once, Margaret pulled back, bringing him to a stop.
"Jarod, what are you doing?" she demanded, "The exit is this way."
"The stairs are in view of the dining room. If we go that way, we'll have Alex and Cox all over us in seconds," he told her, as he pulled her toward Miss Parker's room, "We'll be safer going this way; besides, there's something we need to get in here."
Peering anxiously over his shoulder while he worked the lock on the door, Margaret whispered, "Jarod, if we stay in this house, they'll find us."
"Not right away," he said, ushering her inside and closing the door. "This room does not have any surveillance equipment."
"Now, how in the world would you know that?"
"Miss Parker swept the room, earlier," he answered, opening the closet door, "She didn't find any."
"And you trust her to tell you the truth?"
Hunched over the bags, with his hands firmly wrapped around their straps, Jarod swung them over his shoulder and faced his mother.
"Yes," he said, flatly, "With my life."
--------------
TBC
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