Resolutions – 21

Holding Pattern

by MMB

Tom Jackson tucked the information that he'd found the previous evening into his briefcase to present to his colleagues during their meeting at noon. Actually, he was rather proud of himself for having remembered hearing of this particular Centre enterprise while working as an intern in the State Department years ago — and even more proud of having had the foresight to gather information from a number of different sources since then.

He'd been involved with politics and the machinations of power for too long to have just let such valuable information slide in one ear and out the other. This was explosive stuff — the kind of scandal that the national media would just glom onto and gobble whole before checking sources. What was even better was that it put Miss Parker, this new paragon of ethics and virtue of the New Centre, smack dab into the middle of the ugliness. He turned back to tying his tie with a contented smile.

With just a few quick adjustments to his silk-backed vest, he returned to the bedroom to don his suit coat to put the polish on his image as a well-dressed and affluent member of Congress. His wife, Callie, had already risen and gone downstairs to supervise the making of breakfast — which he had deliberately made a hurried affair for many years now. He was content with her staying completely out of his way during the daytime — and it had taken a few years, and a few explosions of temper, to train her to stay out of his way. Now just a look or a slight frown would send her scurrying — which was just the way he liked it.

Ready to face the world, he took up his briefcase and walked sedately down the upstairs hallway — past the empty bedroom that had once housed his only daughter — and then down the stairs toward the formal dining room. The briefcase would then land on the chair next to his while he would sit briefly, drink his coffee, eat his toast and read the front section of the newspaper. Ten minutes would be all it would take to finish getting ready to go — and with luck, Callie would stay completely out of his way during that time.

The newspaper took his mood and soured it considerably. One of the front-page stories was of the break-up of a conspiracy within the military to develop weapons contrary to many international treaties and the attempted blackmail of a research corporation into complicity. Pictures of General Douglas Curtis and Colonel Gerald Harris punctuated the article, and mentioned somewhere in the middle was Colonel Daniel Stiller as a man driven to attempted murder to coerce cooperation. A vague line at the very end of the article was even more disquieting: "The FBI and Justice Department officials refused comment on rumors that further arrests would be made of civilian officials involved in the conspiracy."

They HAD to get this information on the Centre before the national media immediately! If the FBI and Justice Departments were that close to begin making civilian arrests, then they had little time to lose!

Jackson drained his coffee cup in a single draught, mindless of the scalding heat in his mouth, and left the table without taking more than a bite from his toast. He had to get to his office and get this material ready for dissemination once he had convinced his Senate colleagues that this was the way to proceed.

He had three hours to prepare.

Tyler breezed out of his office, on his way to meet with Miss Parker to go over contracts, just as Xing-Li was arriving. "Good morning, Mr. Tyler," she greeted him courteously.

"And a fine morning to you too, Xing-Li," he smiled back. "I'm glad I caught you before our day got really started. What are your plans for this evening?"

Xing-Li blinked. "I have no special plans, sir," she replied.

"You do now," Tyler perched himself on the corner of his desk. "I'm taking you out to dinner."

The almond eyes smiled at him as her head simply shook. "Mr. Tyler, I thought…"

"I talked to Miss Parker," he told her without his smile dimming a single watt, "and she said that for as long as we can keep our private life private and not bring problems to the office…"

"Mr. Tyler…"

"Cody. We're not on the clock yet."

Her expression communicated her mild frustration eloquently. "Mr. Tyler, it isn't wise."

"Why?" He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her. "Why isn't it?"

"Because…" She stared at him, knowing the answer to his question innately but unable to put it into words — much less English words. "Because," she announced finally.

"Sorry, not good enough," he announced, getting to his feet again. "I'll pick you up at six-thirty sharp."

"You are being very stubborn about this," she commented as she took her seat and drew out his appointment calendar book.

"I could say the same about you," he quipped back. "Miss Parker and I will be in her office for a while, going over paperwork. When's my first appointment?"

She opened the calendar with an efficient flip of a finger. "Nine-thirty."

"Good. If I'm not back by nine-fifteen, give me a call over there."

"Very good, sir."

"And dress casually tonight. We're not going anywhere fancy."

"Mr. Tyler…"

He walked away. "Call me at nine-fifteen. Don't forget…"

Xing-Li shook her head as the outer office door closed behind her boss. He was a most persistent man — and her time with him at the ice cream stand had introduced her to an interesting and fun-loving individual who had gone out of his way to try to make her feel comfortable under the circumstances. If only she didn't work for him during the day…

She heard voices outside the door, and almost immediately the outer door swung open again, and in walked Mei-Chiang. "I came to check up on how you're doing in your new position, Younger Sister," she smiled.

"As a secretary, fine," Xing-Li offered. "But Mr. Tyler has been making a point of trying to see me outside of work — privately…"

Mei-Chiang's face broke into a smile. "Ah! So you've caught the eye of an American too now," she commented knowingly.

"Older Sister, you know we were taught that relationships belonged either in the office or in the bedroom — and not in both places. What am I going to do?"

"Americans play the game by different rules," Mei-Chiang told her friend gently. "And Mr. Tyler is a most honorable man…"

"I know that…"

"Perhaps you are looking too far ahead of yourself, Younger Sister," the older woman remarked. "Perhaps Mr. Tyler simply seeks the pleasure of your company — and nothing more. Not all Americans are looking for concubines, you know…"

Xing-Li's almond eyes betrayed her skepticism. "Your Mr. Atlee…"

"Sam and I knew each other in a very superficial manner for quite a while before he went to California — and before we went out to dinner the first time. We had already expressed our… interest… in each other." She gave her younger friend an indulgent smile. "Besides, he asked me to marry him, not simply to ease his desires in bed."

"He took you to his bed very quickly," Xing-Li said softly.

"He gave me the option of saying no first — of stopping everything before it got started," Mei-Chiang told her candidly. "Nothing happened between Sam and myself that I didn't want as much as he did. And if Mr. Tyler is anything like Sam, he will also respect you in this way. So you don't have to feel obligated to do anything you don't truly want to."

Xing-Li looked down. "I'm just afraid of wanting too much, Older Sister, and being disappointed."

"Then just go along with Mr. Tyler as you would with any friend, and let a friendship happen. Be happy if something else starts later on."

"So you think I should go to dinner with him tonight?"

Mei-Chiang looked at her. "Do you want to go to dinner with him?"

Xing-Li blushed. "He is a very interesting person…"

"Then go, Younger Sister. Enjoy yourself and your time." Mei-Chiang looked at the clock. "I've got to go — Miss Parker will want coffee while she and Mr. Tyler review those contracts that had her scratching her head half the day."

"Thank you, Older Sister," Xing-Li said gratefully. "I guess I just needed someone to talk to about this."

Mei-Chiang put out a hand to her younger friend and held hers tightly for a moment. "You have a good day, and enjoy your evening."

"I will," Xing-Li stated with a much more secure smile. "I will."

By the time Sydney finally rose to see what there was for breakfast, Kevin and Deb had already made the coffee and were sitting at the table talking softly. The older man gave the young couple an indulgent look as he made his way on one crutch heading for the coffee pot. "I take it you two have resolved your differences from yesterday?" he asked, already seeing the answer in front of him in the way they acted almost linked one to the other. They had drawn their chairs close together and were holding hands.

"Yeah," Kevin told him simply. "Thanks."

"I'm glad," Sydney responded, putting the pot back in the coffee maker and making his way to the table where bread and butter and the toaster awaited.

"Would you like me to fry you an egg, Grandpa?" Deb offered in a much more settled tone of voice than she'd been using the last time he'd seen her.

"No, ma petite. Until I'm up and about a bit more, I'd better limit my food intake some," he responded. He pulled out his chair and leaned the crutch against the wall not far away before slipping into his seat. "But I'm glad you're both here. Considering what I found out yesterday, I think there are a few things I need to touch base with you about."

"What's that?" Kevin asked, putting a piece of bread into the toaster for his mentor.

"Like what kind of protection are you two using to prevent pregnancy?"

Deb's face went blank while Kevin's grew confused. "Protection?" the young Pretender asked in a shocked, quiet voice.

Sydney's eyebrows flew up his forehead. "You two DID give some thought to the fact that what you're doing could result in a child, didn't you?" He looked from one to the other of them, then focused on Deb. "I can excuse Kevin from remembering — no doubt his previous keeper neglected to tell him a great deal about the consequences of actions such as these — but you KNOW better!"

"I…" Deb's mind spun. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "It happened so fast… and then things were so crazy…"

Sydney sank his forehead into his hand. "Deborah Ann…"

"You mean to tell me…" Kevin was staring at Deb. "That's right! I could have made you pregnant!"

"We'll take care of it," Deb assured her lover fervently and then shot her grandfather a mixed look of gratitude and frustration. "I promise, Grandpa. We'll take care of it right away."

"A baby?" Kevin asked her in concern, then turned a worried look on his mentor. "What if…"

"We haven't made love that often," Deb shook her head firmly. "And we won't again until we have been to a drug store and have some condoms."

"Deb!" Kevin was looking at her almost frantically. "What if you're pregnant already?"

"I'm not," she assured him again with a shake of the head. "I can't be."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Sydney commented skeptically. How did Broots do it, he wondered — he had never realized just HOW determined and headstrong the girl had turned out to be. Or was it that she just had never turned that side of her persona on him full-throttle until he was functioning as her fulltime guardian in her father's absence?

"I am," she raised her chin defiantly. "And just to make sure, I can go to the health department at the school — I can get a prescription and go on the pill." She looked at Kevin. "There's a day-after pill I can take too — it will make sure that nothing… that I don't…"

"You're sure?" Sydney wanted to know, now pressing the issue determinedly.

"As sure as I can be," she admitted. "One of my friends started living with her boyfriend last year, and I went with her when she went to the health department and took care of business." She looked over at Kevin in chagrin. "I should have thought of this before now. Grandpa's right, I know better."

"Then, by way of setting ground rules, which was the other matter I wanted to talk to you about, I want you both to promise me that you won't touch each other until you have taken care of the issue, is that understood?" Sydney insisted firmly, working hard to keep his temper and not simply chew them both out.

"I promise," Kevin agreed easily.

"Do we have to sleep apart until then?" Deb wanted to know.

Sydney turned a quietly seething glare on her. The situation, as far as he was concerned, was bad enough already. He didn't need for her to turn stubborn on him. "You can last a couple of days, can't you?"

"I need Kevin to help me when the nightmares come," she told her grandfather simply. "They go away faster when he's there."

Sydney shook his head. "You were surviving without Kevin in your bed to get you over your nightmares quite nicely before…"

"No, I wasn't," she insisted firmly. "I just wasn't running downstairs to you every night."

"Then, if you need help to get over the nightmare, you can run downstairs to me again every night — twice a night if need be — until you have this situation under control," Sydney told her just as firmly. "When you are upset, no doubt, the temptation to use sex as a comfort mechanism is just too great." He saw her blush again. "Ah-HAH! You see…"

Deb did see, and it troubled her that her grandfather could see through her so easily on such intimate matters. "Grandpa, please?"

Sydney was shaking his head. "No, Deb. On this I will not compromise." He turned to Kevin. "Do you promise not to touch her until these things are taken care of?"

The young Pretender's eyes were wide and worried. "I'm not ready to be a father yet, Sydney," he told his mentor in a shaky voice. "I promise."

"Can't we just use condoms?" Deb demanded to know. "We can get them from the drug store this morning, for that matter…"

"Make your appointment to get your day-after pill," Sydney told her firmly, "and then we'll talk about how we will make your new relationship work."

"Grandpa…"

That did it. Sydney's eyes finally hardened. "Deborah, what did I tell you?" he asked in a very soft voice.

"I want to be with Kevin," she insisted stubbornly. "If we use a condom, there's no good reason…"

"Deborah Ann. Whose house is this?" The voice had slipped even lower.

Deb's eyes flew up to her grandfather's — she had never heard him use such a cold tone of voice with her before. "Yours," she answered softly.

"And what have you been asked?"

"To…" she looked over at Kevin for support. "To not sleep with Kevin again until I have things taken care of."

"And why are you being asked to do this?"

Kevin stared — the voice coming from his mentor was almost vicious in its lethal calmness, and he could tell that it was unnerving Deb as much as it was him. "Sydney…" he began, putting a hand on his mentor's arm.

The look in the chestnut eyes, when turned in his direction, was that of a stranger — and there was no mercy or flexibility to be found there. "Was I talking to you?"

"N…no, sir…" He backed off, hoping not to have that look turned on him for much longer.

"Deborah, I asked you a question," Sydney continued calmly and lethally, returning his attention to his granddaughter. "Why are you being asked to do this?"

"So that…" she was starting to shake — why was Grandpa behaving like this? "So that I won't get pregnant…"

"Do you have a problem with that?" was the next soft question.

"I need Kevin to help me over my nightmares," she insisted again. "I don't like to walk through the dark house in the middle of the night… It's like bringing the nightmare to life…"

"Sleeping with Kevin is not an option for you until you've seen the health department," Sydney intoned quietly. "What is more, if you will not comply with my request, I'll ask Miss Parker to make up a guest room in her house for you. At that point, you'll have neither Kevin's assistance in the night nor mine."

Her blue eyes flew up to meet the implacable chestnut in shock. "You wouldn't…"

"If I do not have your word, I most certainly will." It was obvious that she'd finally run headlong into the cement wall that was the end of her grandfather's virtually boundless patience — something she'd never found before.

"Deb," Kevin urged her with a hand on her arm. Sydney in this mood was a frightening individual. "Agree to his terms. Get your appointment today and get it taken care of as quickly as possible. It'll be OK."

Deb looked from her lover's imploring face to her grandfather's stony one, then sighed. "All right! All right! I'll wait until I've seen the doctor." Her eyes filled with tears. "God, Grandpa — I thought you were OK with what we were doing…"

"For as long as you and Kevin were the only people whose welfare was being impacted, I was," Sydney said, lightening his tone a little and putting just a touch more warmth in it. "But there is now the possibility a child has been conceived — and that changes everything." His tone cooled again. "You will keep to your own room in the night, whether you have condoms or no, and you will not sleep with Kevin again at all until you've seen the doctor. Is that understood?"

"I said I agreed," Deb snapped at him angrily. "What more do you want of me?"

"Less attitude and more compliance," Sydney snapped back. "I can still call Miss Parker — and I'm sure both she AND your father would support my decision under the circumstances." He glared at her. "The choice is yours."

The mention of her father did the trick. Deb backed down and huddled against Kevin. "I understand," she said finally, a tear making its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry, Grandpa."

"Then go. Make your appointment," Sydney gestured with his nose. When Deb stayed pressed against Kevin, he frowned and made his voice into a sharp verbal whip. "NOW, Deborah!"

She flew out of her seat with a muffled sob and ran to the front of the house and upstairs quickly. Sydney sighed and rested his forehead in his hand again.

Kevin regarded his mentor with some dread. "Are you angry with me too?" he asked finally in a very small voice.

"No, Kevin," Sydney said in a tired but far more normal tone. "As I said, I didn't expect you to think of this without assistance. I doubt Vernon ever even touched on the subject of contraception — am I right?"

"No…"

"There you are. Deb, however, knew better — and she KNEW she knew better."

"Are you still mad at her?" Kevin asked then, daring to approach him since the lethal and cold tone he'd been using was no longer present.

"I…" Sydney sighed again. "No. I'm disgusted that I had to be so hard on her to get her to cooperate in taking care of herself and you. Neither of you need the responsibility of a baby right now — you two are barely able to take charge of the responsibilities that go along with an intimate relationship. I just wish she could have been more… reasonable."

"I promise I'll make sure nothing happens until she sees the doctor," Kevin assured his mentor earnestly. "And I'll talk to Deb and try to make her see things your way."

Sydney turned tired eyes on his protégé. "That would be very helpful, Kevin. Thank you." He rose and reached for his crutch. "I think I'm going to try to lie down again. I didn't sleep very well last night — and I don't think that helped my mood just now."

Kevin watched the older man move slowly and carefully back toward the den. No, the young man agreed, the fatigue certainly hadn't helped the situation. His mentor had changed since he'd vanished — where he had always seemed in balance before, he seemed… considerably less so now. The young Pretender could no longer ignore the fact, nor help wonder whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

One thing was for certain: he NEVER wanted to make Sydney mad at him — not after that display!

Crystal smoothed her hands down her pantsuit once more as she sat in front of Miss Parker's secretary's desk. The beautiful oriental woman would occasionally look up and give the young girl a supportive smile as she waited for Miss Parker to emerge and take her to the clerical department and leave her in the hands of that department's head. Mei-Chiang could remember feeling much the same at one time.

There was the sound of voices behind the door drawing closer, and then Miss Parker emerged with another man, and they were amid conversation. "…would never have seen that if you hadn't pointed it out to me," she finished, then blinked at the sight of a more formally dressed young woman waiting for her in her office. "Ah. My nine o'clock is here. Thanks again."

"My pleasure, Miss Parker," Tyler grinned and then smiled gamely at the young woman with the horribly bruised and battered-looking face. "Hello," he said kindly and left the office, not waiting to be introduced.

"Are you ready for this?" Miss Parker asked, calling Crystal's attention back to the step she was about to take in her life.

"I guess so," the girl responded nervously.

Miss Parker gestured for Crystal to follow and then started off. She approved of the clothing the girl had purchased the day before and decided to tell her — the girl looked as if she could use all the encouragement she could get right now. "You chose your wardrobe well," she commented approvingly. "You look very professional this morning."

"Thanks," Crystal answered shyly. "I just wish my face didn't look like it just came out of a meat grinder."

Miss Parker shook her head. "That will fade in time. Here we are…" She pushed through a set of double doors and headed immediately through the collection of desks for the office door that stood in the far wall. She knocked and then opened the door inward. "Karen, this is the young lady I was telling you about…"

Karen Cushman surveyed the young woman from top to bottom very quickly and then turned to her boss. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sure we can find something to keep her busy."

"Ms. Cushman will be your direct supervisor, Crystal," Miss Parker explained quickly. "You will answer to her, and she'll be the one to give you your assignments. Will that be OK?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Crystal said earnestly and turned a wary eye to the tall and thin woman who oversaw the clerical workers in the pool. "Thank you again, Miss Parker."

"I look forward to hearing good things about you," Miss Parker said by way of a farewell. "Hang in there." And then she was gone, and Crystal was left looking at her new boss with some trepidation.

"Your name is Crystal, is it?" Ms. Cushman wanted to know.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your last name?"

Crystal blinked. "I don't use one, ma'am," she stammered.

"No last name?" The dark brows rose in surprise. "Our crew runs on last names here."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Crystal trembled slightly but stood her ground. There was no way in the world that she wanted to claim the name of the man who had beaten her mother and her so often. "Can't I just be Crystal?"

"I guess that will have to do," Ms. Cushman sighed, and then signaled for her to follow. "The first thing we need to test is your filing skills — alphabetizing and putting things in numerical order. Come with me…"

Crystal followed, trying to ignore the curious peeks and glances she was getting from the others in the room. She'd worked on her father's files often enough to know that alphabetizing and numerical ordering were child's play. It looked as if the challenge of this job would be simply fitting in eventually.

It was nearing lunchtime when Kevin raised his head from his reading. Sounds of movement were coming from the back of the house again, and he put the folder down on the coffee table and went to investigate. Sure enough, Sydney was up again, looking a little more rested this time, and pouring himself another cup of tepid coffee. "Feel better?" Kevin asked from his post against the doorjamb.

"Much," was the brief reply. Sydney gave his protégé an assessing look. "But you look down — depressed. What's the matter?"

"Deb has been upstairs all this time," he told him, "and she won't even let me in to talk to her."

Sydney nodded and then shook his head in regret. "I'll handle it," he said and opened one of the drawers. He scrabbled through a collection of tools, loose batteries and extension cords until he pulled out a tool that had been carefully hidden amid the chaos. He slipped it into his trousers pocket, hoping it wouldn't be needed — perhaps Deb would still be approachable enough to simply let him in.

"What are you going to do?" Kevin wanted to know.

"Talk to her," the psychiatrist said calmly, "whether she wants me to or not."

"Sydney," Kevin hesitated, and his mentor turned to look at him expectantly. "Don't get angry with her again."

"I won't," Sydney promised. "I still haven't smoothed things over from this morning — and that's probably why she's still upset."

"I think you scared her," Kevin told him in a shaky voice. "I know you sure scared ME."

"I know," Sydney replied regretfully. "That tends to be the response when I finally do lose my temper with someone." He gave Kevin a quick smile. "The good news is that I get over my anger very quickly — but the bad is that I usually have to deal with someone traumatized by it afterwards. It's why I try not to lose my temper very often."

Kevin nodded understandingly. "Do you want me to help you talk to her?"

"No," Sydney shook his head. "This needs to be between me and Deb alone." He gave his protégé a sharp look. "No eavesdropping, now…"

"No, sir!" Kevin shook his head vehemently. He'd learned his lesson — when Sydney and Deb were working together, he was going to stay far, far away from any possibility of hearing what was going on.

Sydney took the stairs carefully, finding that he had less trouble navigating them with one crutch now than he had navigating them with two less than a week earlier. At least that was a sign things were starting to improve a little… He walked down the hallway until he stood in front of his own bedroom door, then knocked. "Deb? May I come in please?"

There was a moment of absolute silence from behind the door, and then a click told him that she'd unlocked the door. Grateful he wasn't going to have to pick the lock after all, he turned the knob and pushed the door open to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes puffy from crying. She refused to look at him, so he sighed, closed the door and came over to sit down carefully next to her on the bed, leaning his crutch against the footboard.

"I know you're upset with me, Grandpa," she said, her fingers lacing and unlacing together nervously, "and I know why. I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry too, ma petite," he said softly. "I just worry about you so much and want to keep you from making the big mistakes that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life. I know Kevin has been helping you with your nightmares — and I'm glad for it, really." He nodded when she looked up briefly, startled. "I'm not blind, Deb. I can see that he's very good for you — and you for him."

"But I thought…"

"My only concern is that you have been very foolish in not making sure you weren't going to get pregnant — at least after the first night. I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to be a GREAT-grandfather yet." He saw her give a chuckle that threatened to turn into a sob. "And you're not ready to be a mother yet either — although I have no doubt that when that time does come, you'll be a good one."

"Are you still mad at me then?" The question was very soft.

"No, cheri," he said, putting his arm around her finally. "I was only angry with you when you seemed determined to be unreasonable in regards to your own welfare. I just love you too much to let anybody hurt you — much less let you hurt yourself through stubbornness. I'm going to protect you — even from yourself, if need be." He felt her lean against him at last, relaxing into his side. "Did you make your appointment, as I asked?"

She nodded. "Monday morning, ten o'clock." She huddled against him, thankful that whatever had sparked that cold stranger to rise out of the warmth of her grandfather had passed. "I'm sorry, Grandpa," she repeated brokenly. "I just want to not have to worry so much about my nightmares anymore…"

Sydney turned toward her and surrounded her with his arms and felt her nestle down against him. "You'll be all right, ma petite. It's only for a few nights — and you can buy your condoms on your way home from the library today so that you can be ready."

"What if…?" she started hesitantly.

"What if what, sweetheart?" he asked gently.

"What if I'm already pregnant? What am I going to do?" There. The fear she'd carried around ever since he'd mentioned it was now out. She wrapped her arms around her grandfather and held on tightly.

"I thought you said you were sure…"

"I can't be, can I?" she admitted in a small voice. "We WEREN'T using protection. Grandpa, I don't know what to do…"

The grey eyebrows had climbed his forehead, but his arms around his granddaughter stayed strong and supportive. "Well, you'd have to make some very difficult decisions, wouldn't you?" he told her gently. "First and foremost, whether or not you wanted to keep the baby."

"Daddy would kill me…"

"Your father is probably already going to go postal on the both of us when he finds out," he told her dryly, "you for what you've started, and ME for allowing it to go on in my house while you were under my care."

"It's not your fault, Grandpa," she complained.

"Tell your father that," Sydney snorted. "But back to your concern. You should think about what you would do about the baby, Deb — and it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to do your thinking with Kevin there with you. He would be the father — it would be his child too — he deserves to have a say. After all, no contraceptive technique is ever one hundred percent reliable. Even if you aren't pregnant now, there's no guarantee that several months or a year down the line…"

She nodded against him and burrowed deeper into his arms. "I'm so sorry I made you angry, Grandpa," she sniffled. "You were just trying to help. I was being a brat," she accused herself.

"Well, I'm not angry with you now, ma petite," Sydney soothed and tightened his arms around her. "Hush now and come back downstairs. Kevin is worried about you." He gave a very gentle tug on the blonde braid hanging down her back. "Better now?"

Deb pushed herself away from him and looked up into warm chestnut eyes that will full of love for her and felt as if her roller coaster ride that morning were finally finished. She nodded and wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Grandpa."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead very gently. "I love you very much, Deb. I can only hope that you know that."

"I do, Grandpa," she told him with no hesitation at all. "I do." She also had learned a very good lesson — what worked with her father didn't always work on others, and sometimes what worked with her father had consequences she really didn't want to face.

Cindy looked up as Jarod came toward her desk to reclaim Ginger, his briefcase in hand. "So," she said sadly, "this is really it?"

He nodded. "I'm on my way back to Delaware as of tomorrow morning." He looked around the office and into the waiting room. He had spent a great deal of time and money making his practice work and to make the office itself a factor in the therapy. Finding Cindy had been a real benefit, for her steady and happy personality made the prospect of coming to work every day a joy. "I'm going to miss you, lady."

"Hush now, Doctor Jarod — you know you're going to be in hog heaven with that pretty lady of yours and your family all together again," she shook her beaded head at him. "But I have to admit, I'm going to miss you too."

"Come here so I can get a hug," Jarod said, putting his briefcase down on the floor. Cindy giggled and rose from her chair and put her arms around the waist of her boss and felt him hug her back. "You take good care of Ethan and Charles for me," he told her softly. "Don't let 'em get away with anything now…"

"You can count on me," she chuckled as he let her go and she could turn to the little girl who was still sitting at her chair watching the action. "I'm going to miss you too, Sweet Pea," she said, putting out her arms to gather the child to her. "You be sure to take real good care of your Daddy for me now, won't you?"

"OK," Ginger chirped brightly. She was going to miss this warm-hearted woman who had always had a smile for her, even during the bad times. "Miss oo, Cindy."

Cindy kissed her on the forehead and then let her go take her father's hand. "Now THAT'S what I call a success story, Doctor Jarod," she said, looking at the two of them. Doctor Jarod was handsome enough that he'd even managed to set HER heart beating more than a few times in the beginning of their acquaintance, and now with his little girl in hand, and she with her ever-present Bear, he looked the settled family-man from tip to toe. "I can't think of two people who deserved each other more." She blinked quickly to try to prevent a tear. "You go on now, and keep in touch, will you?"

"Only if you promise that if you get tired of Ethan working you to death, you'll think about relocating to the other side of the country and letting me have a crack at it again," Jarod told her as he reached down for his briefcase.

"If I ever go crazy, trust me, Doctor Jarod, you'll be the FIRST one I call," Cindy grinned. "Good bye, and good luck!"

"Good bye, Cindy," Jarod said with a touch of sadness.

"'Bye, Cindy," Ginger parroted.

"Good bye."

Cindy watched the front door close behind him and felt Ethan come up behind her. "So he's gone now?"

"He'll be happy on the other side of the country, won't he, Doctor Ethan?" she asked in concern.

Ethan nodded. "Oh, yes. He's going home, you see — he grew up there. He'll be at least as happy there as he has been here, I promise." He put a comforting hand on the receptionist's shoulder and then headed back toward his office.

"OK, people, so what have we got to work with?" Burns tried to sound optimistic, but his own lack of progress had disheartened him considerably.

"Getting any information on the Centre whatsoever is harder than trying to raise winter corn," Canfield said, his posture slumped. I haven't been around Capitol Hill long enough to have collected much of anything."

Jackson just smiled. "I, on the other hand, have been in and out of the halls of power for years, both before my election and since then. I have the quintessential story to leak."

"Do tell!" Burns brightened immediately. "What do you have?"

"Virtual slavery, gentlemen, made even more egregious by kidnap and medical experimentation." Jackson handed each of his colleagues a folder that contained copies of the information he'd taken from his own private files. "What's more, it contains enough explosive connections to OTHERS in Congress and even former occupants of the White House that it should knock our paltry doings off the front page before it even gets there."

"The Pretender Project?" Burns looked up from the first page in confusion. "What the Hell kind of project name is that?"

"A very carefully guarded one," Jackson grinned. "One that Mr. Raines himself told me very quietly that I would be best served forgetting. It seemed that for a number of years, the Centre kidnapped children who tested at the upper end of the IQ charts and then turned them into simulations artistes. These people were trained to climb into the heads and minds of others in a given scenario to predict future responses or diagnose responses in situations in the past. One of these 'Pretender's' names is predominant in all the material that I've gathered so far: Jarod. The man was a genius with an IQ straight off the charts."

"The Centre has recently undergone a major shakeup in administration," Burns reminded his Vermont colleague. "Why have we not heard of this Jarod before now?"

"Because he escaped from the Centre about twelve years ago," Jackson told them, feeling like he was narrating a bedtime story. "And a search and recover team was immediately formed that included…"

"Don't tell me… the inimitable Miss Parker herself," Burns crowed triumphantly. "Damn! We've got her! Did she know the particulars of the man she was hunting?"

"That's a good question — as is whether or not they were ever able to track him down and recapture him." Jackson looked at his colleagues with a delighted grin on his face. "The kinds of 'advice' this young man gave out for a hefty price paid directly into Centre coffers was varied both in subject and ethics."

"How are we going to handle spilling this?" Burns asked quietly. "Especially if this Jarod isn't anywhere in the Centre anymore, all it's going to take is Miss Parker throwing open the doors of the Centre and inviting the media to take a look for themselves…"

"Oh yeah — how likely do you think it would be for the Centre to just throw its doors open and invite the public to take a good snoopy peek into all the dark corners?" Jackson asked sarcastically. "Centre security has always rivaled or been tighter that of the Secret Service. She's not going to want cub reporters hot for scoops going through their files."

"Do you have proof that this Jarod was kidnapped?" Canfield asked after thinking about it for a while. "Any missing persons reports?"

"Page twelve," Jackson directed them. "His father never did stop looking for him — I've got a list of the agencies this Major Russell contacted and the reports he filed, as well as the notations of certain law enforcement officials who signed off on his being a crackpot. As for spilling this stuff, I suggest we just leak one or two of the items on which Jarod provided 'advice' that turned out sound — or which he outright engineered."

"Such as?" Burns was intrigued, but hated seeing Jackson usurp his leader's mantle so easily.

"The Nixon landslide, for one — and a detailed analysis of the Kennedy Assassination that predicts that telling the public that there was more than one assassin in Dallas would destabilize the country. I don't think the public will appreciate finding out that their emotions were being manipulated." Jackson sat back contentedly. "And there's more where that came from. This Jarod was one smart guy — he even predicted the kinds of civil reforms that Ashcroft began back in 2001 and where they could lead."

"Anything that will bite any of US in the ass?"

Jackson put a soothing hand on Canfield's shoulder. "Not a damned thing. Not one of us were in office when this joker was cranking out what were called 'SIMs' for the Centre, so not one of us has a thing to worry about."

"When?" Burns demanded. "When do we start this?"

Jackson shrugged. "Do either of you see any problem with my making a quiet 'Deep Throat' style call to the Washington Post?"

Canfield was looking concerned, but Burns finally began to nod. "I like it," the Florida Senator said after a while. "It's clean, and leaves nothing that leads back to us."

"I'll have my secretary set up the meeting with an ambitious and enterprising reporter I met over there a few weeks ago," Jackson informed them. "They may be tailing us, but I'll bet you anything they haven't caught on and started tailing our secretaries quite yet."

"You hope," Canfield mumbled anxiously.

"We'll find out soon enough," Burns remarked. "Let's do it."

"That's it then. Now," Jackson looked at his colleagues, "where do you guys want to be left off?"

Jarod sat on the edge of Ginger's bed, her entire wardrobe piled next to him waiting to be folded and packed into the suitcase he'd brought in for her. Ginger bounced on the bed next to him happily. "Me fly 'morrow, Daddy?"

"Yes," he answered patiently. "We're going to get into a company jet and fly for most of the morning and into the afternoon."

"Gamma come too?"

"Yes, Grandma's coming with us."

"We see Davy 'morrow?"

"Davy and Deb and Sam and Mommy — and some other people you haven't met yet, like your Grandpa Sydney."

"Him your Daddy?"

"Not exactly, Sprite. He's more like your Mommy's Daddy — but he was with me a lot when I was a boy. He taught me a lot of things." Jarod found trying to explain his relationship with Sydney to his daughter a bit difficult. "He's a very special person — and I think you'll like him very much."

"Me go school now?" she asked next. "Me go wif Davy go school?"

"I'm not sure, Sprite. You've been out of school for a while now – it may take you some time to catch up. And we want to work on your talking a bit more. Maybe your Grandpa Sydney can teach you the way he taught me, and get you ready for school." Considering the uncomfortable insights those Centre archives had been giving his old friend, maybe tutoring a young child to get her ready to re-enter public school might be a welcome change.

Uncertain dark eyes fixed on him. "Me not 'tay Gamma when you work?"

"I'm sure you'll be spending time with your Grandma Maggie at first," Jarod told her, reaching for the last of the tee shirts, "but you'll probably spend lots of time over at Grandpa Sydney's – especially when Grandma goes home again."

"Daddy," Ginger leaned in to her father's upper back, "me not want Gamma go 'way. Her 'tay us?"

Jarod gave up trying to pack and turned slightly on the bed so he could pull his daughter into his lap. "Grandma's only coming with us for a visit, Sprite – you know this. She'll stay with us for a little while, and then she'll want to come home to her house here."

"Who me talk to when Gamma gone?"

"Grandpa Sydney will talk to you, I'm sure."

"Me not know him." Ginger's voice was flat, distrusting. "Maybe him not like me."

"I happen to know," Jarod assured her with a kiss on the forehead, "that your Grandpa Sydney loves kids – and he's going to take one look at you and be head over heels. Then again, if it's a girl you want to talk to, there's always Mommy…"

Ginger didn't reply to that but merely pushed herself deeper into her father's embrace.

Jarod held her close for a while. "I thought you liked Mommy now."

"Her OK," Ginger allowed. It was hard to explain to him that while she liked Her, she didn't completely trust Her yet.

He stifled a sigh. He had hoped the touching scene just as Missy and Davy had left had meant that part of the wall that Ginger had built against the woman who would be her mother from now on was beginning to show signs of weakness. Then again, she had had over a week to recover from that first, tentative lapse – Missy would have to begin the process of winning her daughter's affections all over again.

"It'll be OK eventually, Sprite," he told her gently and hugged her close. "You'll also have Deb, and there's a really nice young man named Kevin that lives with Grandpa that you'll get a chance to know."

"No Unka Eefan?"

"He might come to visit us one day – your Mommy is his half-sister too."

"Unka Jay? Aunt Emmie?"

"Sweetheart, they'll come to visit us in time, and we'll be back to see them too. You just won't see them all the time, like now. It will make their visits special." Jarod set his daughter back on the bed and reached for the rest of the clothing. "Now you have to let Daddy get your clothes all packed – and then we have to find the box your clown light came in so we can take it with us for your new room."

"Me get new room?" That made the girl smile.

"Of course you do," Jarod smiled at her. "Mommy said it was her room when she was a girl. That means it must be pretty neat."

"Her 'tay us all time now?"

"Yes," Jarod chuckled. "Mommy and Davy will be with us all the time from now on. We're a family, Sprite – families stick together."

Ginger retrieved Bear from his place on her bed and hugged him close. It sounded so good when Daddy talked about it – and having Grandma there would definitely help – but the thought of leaving everything and everyone she had just come to know and be comfortable with behind was hard. Very hard.

"You going to help me pack my stuff too?" Jarod asked her, noticing how quiet she'd gotten all of a sudden. "Maybe Bear will come help too?"

"OK, Daddy, me help." Ginger scrambled to follow her father from one bedroom to the next. Packing sure seemed to be a long and drawn-out process…

Colonel Daniel Stiller still couldn't believe his eyes. He stared down at the newspaper headline detailing the military arrests that had been made the day before with an increasingly sinking feeling. The names mentioned in the article were those with which he had become very familiar over the last few years as liaison between the knot of super-patriots and the Centre: Curtis, Harris, and Lewis especially.

He looked around him at his cell. Blue Cove did NOT have modern jail facilities – his cell was bars on three sides anchored very securely into cinderblock walls, his bed was a steel platform bolted to the cinderblock upon which a thin mattress was lain. Meals were shoved through very narrow slot at floor level, and there was a desk near the locked steel door at which a police officer seemed continually in attendance. Stiller doubted that the station was usually manned at all hours like it had been since he'd gotten there. Only one other prisoner had been held during his tenure there – a drunk who had thrown up messily all over the cement floor not long after his arrest, spent most of the night muttering miserably about his fate and then had been released about noon the next day.

More than anything, he did NOT want to spend very much more time there. Military lockups were far more modern and provided at least a minimum of privacy from the neighboring cells. Having to park it on the bed and pull his feet up when the drunk's mess had been hosed down was the kind of indignity that should never be visited upon an officer of his rank.

"Hey there!" he called to the officer at the desk. "Lemme speak to your Police Chief. I want to make a statement."

The officer raised his head and then shook it. "No can do, buddy. Orders are to hold you for the military police later today. Your case has been booted into military court."

Stiller swallowed. Being sentenced to years at Leavenworth wasn't his idea of proper payment for loyalty to the concept of patriotism. "I want to talk to a lawyer."

"You'd best wait for a military lawyer, Colonel," the officer suggested. "That way, you won't screw yourself over by talking to the wrong person while you're out here."

"But I know things… things other people might want to know…"

"Save it," the officer picked up the newspaper and opened it up. "And save your breath. You'll get out of here the moment the MP's produce the paperwork for you, and not one moment sooner."

Stiller sighed and sank back down onto the bed and read further into the front page article. He wondered briefly if the civilian authorities knew just exactly how high up the ladder of authority the conspiracy had actually gone? Maybe he WOULD have something to bargain for once he was away from this hick jail.

Margaret stood in front of her closet trying to decide which outfits to take down from their hangers to pack. She couldn't even remember what kind of weather to expect in Delaware at this time of year, it had been so long since she'd been anywhere near the place. She sighed, pulled down a couple of shirt dresses and pant suits that could be worn somewhere nice to go with the pair of jeans and blouses she'd selected for those days when she'd be spending time at home with Sprite and maybe even Davy.

As the time for her departure for Delaware was drawing closer, she was starting to second-guess her own reasons for going. She knew for a fact that Ginger was thrilled to have her 'Gamma' coming with her – that little one could use all the reassurance she could get as she prepared to move into an entirely new world of being a little sister in an intact family. Jarod, too, had shown signs that he was pleased that she had decided to set aside a firm resolution in order to keep closer ties with him as he moved back to the place where he'd been raised.

No, her doubts were centered around an unknown man by the name of Sydney – a man who she knew Jarod had always considered as much a father-figure as Charles had been in the last years of his life. So many of the preconceptions that she had been holding about these shadowy figures from her son's past had turned out to be illusions or misunderstandings – certainly meeting and learning to genuinely enjoy the company of the woman once in charge of Jarod's capture had taught her that if she wanted to keep close ties with Jarod, she would need to make peace with his past – and hers.

But Sydney had never been a part of HER past. According to Missy, the man who had talked to her about Jarod all those years ago had been Sydney's twin brother, Jacob – and that Sydney hadn't known that Jarod had actually been stolen until much, much later. Still, Jarod had always been reluctant to share much about his childhood and early adult years in the Centre's custody, letting anybody who asked know that some of the memories were still painful. And a lot of those painful memories had to do with something that Sydney had been a part of – or which Sydney hadn't prevented for whatever reason.

"Mom, are you here?"

"In here," Margaret called out to her daughter.

A few moments later, Emily's dark head poked around the corner of the bedroom door. "Packing still?"

"I've forgotten – is it hot in Delaware at this time of year, or should I take a sweater?" she asked with a sigh.

"It's still fairly warm," Emily replied. "I was just wondering if there was anything else I could do for you before you left?"

Margaret shook her head. "No – all I need to do is get everything into this suitcase and then get over to your kitchen to help you with your meal…"

"Forget the meal, Mom. Are you SURE you want to go through with this?"

The older woman looked at her daughter. "If you had lost Sammy, and then gotten him back much later, wouldn't you want to know what kind of person was taking care of him?"

"Mom, this is different," Emily reminded her. "This Sydney – he wasn't a caretaker, he was more like a keeper, a teacher…"

"That isn't the way Jarod thinks of him, and you know it, Em," Margaret shook her head. "Even your father knew that Sydney occupied a very special place in your brother's heart behind all the sense of betrayal and anger. He was important enough that Jarod went back to find him after your father died. I need to know what kind of man would command that kind of loyalty despite everything."

Emily came around the end of the bed and sat down not far from where her mother was standing and folding clothes. "I also came to tell you some news."

"Oh?" Margaret glanced up into her daughter's face and saw a gentle glow. "What's going on?"

"Well, you know that Nathan and I have been trying for another child for a while…"

"Em!" Margaret dropped the shirtdress she'd been folding and took one of her daughter's hands in hers. "You're going to have a baby?"

Em nodded happily. "I thought that since everybody's going to be here tonight, I'd make the formal announcement – but I wanted you to know it first."

"When?"

"Mid to late April, if everything goes OK." Emily held onto her mother's hand tightly. "You WILL be back in time, won't you?"

"Emily! I told you I'm only going to be gone a couple of weeks."

"I know you did – but this is the first time since we all settled down here that any one of us has deliberately left the fold. I was just afraid that if Jarod wanted you…"

Margaret put her arm around Emily and pulled her close. "When the time gets closer, there's not much of anything that will pull me away from you, Pumpkin. You can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be right here when that new grandson or daughter of mine makes an entrance."

Emily relaxed against her mother in relief. "Thanks, Mom." It was hard to think that her mother would ever be anywhere else but there in Monterey with her – but now, with Jarod heading to the other side of the country… "I know this makes me sound like a jealous sister…"

"Don't worry about it," Margaret soothed. "I have no intentions of playing favorites between you and your brother. But speaking of brothers, have you told Sammy that he's going to be an older brother soon?"

Emily smiled again and reached for one of the blouses that Margaret had set out for packing and began to tell her mother about the reaction of her first-born to the idea of a new baby in the house. And Margaret deliberately set aside her concerns and doubts about the wisdom of actually meeting Sydney for when she could stew alone again – right now, there were far more pleasant things to be thinking about.

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