Note: to those of you still reading this story - thanks for your patience - as always, sorry about the long time between chapter posts. Lisa

Disclaimer in part 1

Survival II – Retribution

By imagine

Chapter 28/?

"Good, now, concentrate on the warmth of my touch, Jarod. When we are done tonight, you will find that you trust me completely."

The warm sensation that had seemingly begun to flow through his veins faded and, as it did, Jarod found himself more aware of his surroundings. He was not in the hospital. He was not bound to a bed by the wrists and ankles. The images of Philip smiling down on him, touching him, promising him comfort in exchange for obedience grew faint but refused to disappear completely, leaving the Pretender conflicted.

"Both versions of that night cannot be true, can they?"

Startled, Jarod looked up at the man but could not find his voice, or the strength, to respond. He wanted to believe that the memory of his mother sitting by his hospital bed, promising that she and his father would stay by his side was the truth and the images of Philip were false. Unfortunately, he couldn't prove or disprove either memory. He didn't know what frightened him more: the fact that Philip Kelley could be telling him the truth; or the fact that he couldn't find the resolve to trust his own mind.

Philip looked at his charge and smiled. "You know that I was the one who visited you every night, Jarod."

The Pretender dropped his gaze and, almost immediately, felt the doctor's hand slide to his shoulders. Though his initial reaction was to stiffen at the contact, the gentle strokes that followed elicited a darkly familiar response. Just as in the memory he wanted to deny, a warm sensation grew in the wake of the other man's touch.

"Your parents abandoned you at the hospital, Jarod, just as they have abandoned you now," he murmured. "I am your constant, your comfort. I am the only person you can trust."

Closing his eyes as the hands moved across his back and down his spine the Pretender shook his head and whispered, "No."

"Both versions of that night cannot be true," Philip repeated, continuing the tender massage. "In your heart, you know that it was me who sat at your bedside, Jarod. It was me who helped you recuperate. You waited for me, every night, anxious for our session to begin. It was me who sat at your bedside, Jarod, no one else but me."

Though the doctor could not see it from where he stood, as the words were spoken, the muscles in Jarod's jaw clenched and his lips flattened into a thin dark line.

*********

Leaning against the hood of his own vehicle, he glanced at his watch then turned a cold stare at the complex of buildings across from him. Somewhere inside the largest of these structures, beyond the armed guard tower and the electronic doors, was a man who was playing with fire. Philip Kelly was testing his patience, trying to play him for a fool and, above all, digging his own grave. Their appointment had been for noon and the doctor was now officially three hours late in handing over the recordings.

If his contacts inside the prison were correct, upon his arrival, Philip Kelly had met with the warden. The result of that meeting was that Blue Cove's answer to Dr. Mengele had been granted full access to Jarod. Regardless of his annoyance at being kept waiting, however, Lyle smiled each time he thought of how the doctor and the Pretender might be spending their time. Oh, to be a fly on the wall.

After giving his contact explicit instructions to notify him if Philip's session ended prior to his return, Lyle had driven to the cabin and searched it thoroughly. Not finding any trace of the recordings should have reassured him. It should have given more weight to the doctor's claim that they were somewhere offsite for safekeeping. Instead, it made Lyle more suspicious. Retrieving his phone from the pocket of his jacket, he hit the speed dial, his eyes never leaving the entrance to the main building.

"It's been three hours."

"Actually, it's been three and a half," the man corrected. "Evidently he has permission from the warden to conduct an all day session, if necessary."

"He may have permission from the Warden," Lyle growled, "but he doesn't have permission from me. If he doesn't show his face in fifteen minutes, I want you to interrupt him. Get him out of that room and then don't let him back in until he calls me. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good."

*********

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"No," he admitted then, reaching out, grabbed the other man's arm. "But, before you call them, we need to talk. It's important. It's about Jarod. I came to make everything right."

"And, when you say you can make it right, Adam, does that mean you're going to tell me about the beach house?" Ryan dared. "Jillian told me you were there and that Jarod was trying to protect you both."

"Jarod is always protecting, or trying to protect, someone."

"Maybe, but it's been my experience that when family is involved, people are generally more determined."

Adam took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"Look, you and I both know you shouldn't be here," Ryan said, using a much gentler tone as he slid his hand to the boy's shoulder. "Your parents are probably worried sick. Let me take you back to the bungalows. On the way, you can fill in the gaps for me."

The young man pulled from the touch but did not step away. Instead, he looked the Detective straight in the eye and told him, "I will call my parents after you hear what I have to say."

After a slight hesitation, Ryan shook his head. "That doesn't work for me. You're a minor. I can't legally question you about anything without parental approval."

The boy's laugh was immediate but the disapproving glare he received from the Detective made him bring it under control quickly. "You're serious."

"Either you call them, or I will. Take your pick."

"But you won't be questioning me; I'll be telling you."

"Not without parental approval," he repeated.

*********

It was in her nature to be in control and doing so meant being aware of her surroundings. As she headed toward the prison, her eyes darted at the open spaces between cars parked in her path as well as those that flanked her. She spotted him when she reached the gate that separated the parking lot from the walk that led to the entrance. Considering Kelley was inside, it was not a complete surprise to find Lyle waiting for him; but, it wasn't something she had expected. Smiling to herself, and accepting the situation without questioning if it was coincidence, luck or fate, she moved toward him, her jaw tightening with each step.

Leaning against the car, his hands were casually hidden deep inside the pockets of his slacks. Though his jacket was open and no firearm was visible, she knew there was a holster at the small of his back and probably one attached to his ankle, as well. There was a slight but dangerous smile on his face, but it was the fact that his eyes seemed to be dancing as they watched her approach that made her skin crawl.

"I know what you've been doing," she said simply. "Back off, Lyle, or, so help me, you will be sorry."

"Well, hello to you, too, Sis." When she crossed her arms over her chest, his right eyebrow arched higher than the left, he sighed and slowly pushed away from the car. "Exactly what is it that you think I'm responsible for, this time?"

"I want you, and your little dog Philip, to stay away from Jarod and his family. Let him go."

He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring her stance. "You know I can't do that, Parker. Jarod owes me and I intend to collect."

"You held him prisoner for months, drugged him, molested him, threatened his family, and are now doing your best to twist his mind into a pretzel. He's in jail for something we both know you did and he's not fighting to get out. How the hell does he owe you, Lyle?"

Suddenly the man's playfulness disappeared. "He betrayed me. He ran. He let the Centre believe I killed him. Because of Jarod, they sent me to Africa. Do you have any idea the things they did to me? You, of all people, should understand how much Jarod owes me, Parker. It's time he repaid the debt."

"Exactly how is Jarod going to settle up with you, if you destroy his mind? That's what you're doing, you know. The drugs, the sessions with Kelley, the lapses in memory – it's all too much. At the rate you're going, in a few days, he won't be Jarod anymore."

"Maybe that's the point."

She stared at him, her mind spinning with the things he'd said while she took in both his facial expressions and body language. Lyle was tense. His eyes were hard. His voice was rough and angry. The man she knew as her brother – the one who could charm a snake while cutting it in half – had lost his mask and was now showing his true self.

"Okay, let me try saying this differently," she hissed. Refusing to be intimidated, Miss Parker stepped closer to her brother, stopping when they were less than an inch apart. "Back off, so help me, I will make sure the Centre gets all the evidence they need to lock you away forever. Understood?"

He laughed and, just as quickly as it had disappeared, Lyle's charismatic persona was back in place. "Nice bluff, but there is no evidence connecting me to Jarod's current predicament and you know it."

Her smile was intentionally slow and, as it grew, she watched his fade. "Talk to your partner in crime, Lyle. Ask him to see the recordings of his sessions with Jarod and, when he can't produce them, give me a call. Because we're family, I'm willing to deal but it's a limited time offer. You have three hours, Lyle, not a minute more."

"And, then what?" he dared.

"And then I turn over what I have to people who will make your life miserable," she replied.

Lyle's smirk reappeared in the split second before he shook his head. "I don't think so, Parker. I don't think you would actively choose to betray me."

"Then you would be wrong."

"I know you, Parker," he taunted. "You might let Jarod set me up or take his side against me; but you would never actively participate in my death – and that is exactly what you would be doing if you turned over any of Kelley's recordings to the Centre. Do you really think you could live with that on your conscience? After all, as you said, we're family – I'm your twin."

Turning on her heel, she moved toward the prison entrance. "Three hours, Lyle, not a minute more."

*********

The moment he disconnected the call Adam saw the Detective's nod of approval. He had half expected a question, or an 'I told you they were worried', but, instead, Ryan turned and moved into the small interrogation room knowing he would follow. Once inside, Adam took a seat at the table, keeping his back to the mirror.

"When did you see Jillian?" he asked, when the Detective was seated.

"I went to the hospital this morning. She's pretty confused about a lot of things; but she was insistent about the fact that Jarod told her you were at the beach house that day."

"That's because I was."

Ryan glared at the boy. "When were you planning on sharing that fact with me?"

"Well, I'm not here because I needed directions to the beach," he snapped. Running his fingers through his hair he leaned back in the chair. "Look, I know that Miss Parker told you a little about Jarod's childhood at the Centre and his time with Lyle last year but there's more. You need to know everything if there is any hope of you understanding what has been happening."

"So tell me."

"It's not an easy story to tell. It's . . . complicated." When the Detective shrugged and dropped himself into a nearby chair to wait for an explanation, Adam took a deep breath and said, "For starters, Detective, I am not Jarod's brother."

*********

Philip slid a new card into the man's hand. "You know the deal. It's time for memory number two to be revealed. When we are done, you will understand all that I have done for you, Jarod."

Dropping his gaze to the card, Jarod swallowed hard. After a moment of hesitation, he used his thumb to slowly rub away the silver coating.

Without reducing his speed, he maneuvered the mountain bike off the path and into a field of tall grass. The field gave way to a dirt path, leading him beneath a canopy of trees and he slowed his pace. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he let the bike coast to a stop, filling his lungs with the slightly cooler breeze of the nearby creek while he scanned his surroundings critically. Except for the trickling water, chirping sparrows, and his heartbeat, it was quiet.

Laying the bike on the ground, he retrieved a fresh bottle of water from the pouch on the back of the seat and moved through the trees. Once he reached the rocky bank, he trained his eyes at the terrain on the opposite bank and smiled. It was only a few miles to the highest point of the trail. From there, he would be able to see the valley and, if the conditions were right, the ocean.

Glancing at his watch, he lowered himself to a soft piece of grass and took another long drink from the water bottle. Whether it was the ride, the stress of Adam's disappearance, the return of Miss Parker, or a combination of all three, he didn't know; but suddenly, he was exhausted. Stretching out on his side, he kept his gaze on the path beyond the creek and lowered his head to his arm. Slowly, his eyes began to close.

The man grinned and gently petted the beads of sweat from the Pretender's forehead into his hair. "Do you remember sitting by the stream and falling asleep?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured. "I remember going for a bike ride. I remember that I was tired."

"Of course you do. Now, scratch off the next layer coating the card, Jarod."

"Does he know I'm here?"

"On the most basic of levels, yes; however, Jarod won't react unless I tell him to."

"Really?"

With only a quick, evil grin as warning, Lyle struck Jarod across the face with the back of his hand. Like a rubber doll, his head snapped to the left and then slowly came back to center as the sting of the blow began to fade. Almost immediately, he was viciously pulled to his back by the hair. Lyle leaned over him, placing his knee at the center of his chest, and pressed his hand over his mouth and nose. Pinned by Lyle's weight to the sofa, he stared blankly at the man depriving him of oxygen.

"Tell him not to struggle."

"I don't have to," Philip answered. "Jarod does not view you as a threat. I thought that was obvious by his lack of reaction when he saw you."

"Nothing is obvious, when it comes to Jarod."

Their eyes locked and a small smile appeared on Lyle's face as Jarod felt more pressure on his mouth and nose. He heard Philip yell and saw him grab Lyle's arm; but Parker's twin easily pushed the doctor away. Just as Jarod felt his muscles become slack and darkness begin to envelop him, Lyle finally stepped away. In an instant, Philip was at his side, pulling him into a sitting position, holding him tightly as he gasped and coughed and tried to refill his lungs.

"Take it slow, Jarod. That's it, nice slow breaths. Very good, my boy," he murmured. Then, without sliding his arm from Jarod's back, he adopted an angry tone and glared at Lyle. "What are you thinking? You could have killed him."

The images had barely faded when Philip slid his hand beneath Jarod's chin and forced the man to meet his gaze. "I saved your life that afternoon, Jarod. I protected you, just as I always have. I protected you from the memory of Lyle's attack, as well as from Lyle himself. You owe me."

Jarod pulled away from the grip. Though his hands were trembling, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

"I imagine it is very painful for you to regain these memories so abruptly but it had to be done," the doctor insisted calmly. "I have done my best to shield you, Jarod. I do not want to cause you any more pain than necessary. Tell me you understand."

With his face still buried in his hand, the Pretender nodded and murmured, "I understand."

"Good boy, Jarod. Now, tell me where Miss Parker has hidden my recordings."

The Pretender stiffened at the command and, after slowly dropping his hands to his lap, looked up at the doctor. "I told you, I . . . don't know where they are."

"Then run the simulation."

"I – I cannot run a simulation on Miss Parker."

Philip glanced at his watch then crouched beside the prisoner. "The sedative should be working by now. The look in your eyes tells me that your headache must be excruciating. You're trembling and perspiring, so it's obvious that the chills have begun, as well. I can only assume that the muscles in your legs and arms are starting to feel the effects of the drug. Have the spasms started yet?"

Wrapping his arms around the trunk of his body, Jarod closed his eyes and nodded.

"You always hated this part of your training," the man sighed. His eyes dancing across the Pretender's pained features, he stroked the man's cheek with the back of his hand. "And I always hated seeing you in such agony, but we both know it was necessary. You are such a stubborn man that it was always the only way to deter you from disobeying me. It was the only method that ever worked."

Jarod tightened the hold on himself, let out a soft moan, and turned to look at the doctor, but said nothing.

"Ahh – I forgot about the shortness of breath. You once described it as trying to breathe under water through a straw. I think that was the part you hated the most," he cooed, once again wiping the sweat from his prisoner's brow. "I do hate that you force me to do this to you. Just run the simulation, Jarod. Once you do as you were instructed, I can take the pain away almost immediately."

"I cannot . . . run a simulation on . . . Miss Parker," he whispered hoarsely. "It is not allowed."

"Why do you insist on repeating those words, Jarod?" Angry, the doctor stood and crossed his arms as he stared down at his prisoner. "Tell me why Miss Parker is exempt from being the subject of a simulation."

"She is . . . She is the Chairman's daughter."

He watched as the Pretender anxiously slid his hands between his legs, then changed his mind and folded them over his chest, looking for a position to ease his discomfort. "And who told you never to run a simulation on her? Was it her father?"

Jarod licked his lips as he shook his head.

"Was it Sydney?"

Keeping his eyes lowered, and focused on the back of his own hands, which were now in his lap, he shook his head again. His gaze rose to the doctor only when he felt a hand beneath his chin.

"I have learned much about you, Jarod. I can tell when you are confused, when you are frightened, and when you are protecting someone. Most importantly, though, I learned to tell when you are lying." Philip smiled slightly when the Pretender made a weak attempt to pull from his hold. "No one gave you any such order, did they? It is not that you cannot run the simulation, it is that you will not run it."

For a brief moment, the Pretender became eerily still. His eyes narrowed and tilted his head in such a way that a shadow of a smile seemed to appear. Philip glared at the man then, frustrated by the lack of response, struck Jarod across the face.

"Why do you insist on forcing me punish you?" he demanded. "It is causes unnecessary stress for both of us. All I want is what legally belongs to me. Tell me where the recordings are, and we can conclude this session. I can relieve your pain. I can even make you forget any of this happened. You can go back to your cell. You can rest."

Jarod wiped his lip with the side of his still shaky hand and stared at the drop of blood that was smeared across his finger. Aware that the doctor was now pacing in front of him, he let his hand drop back to his lap but said nothing.

"Do you enjoy being punished? Do you enjoy being in pain? It's almost as if you want me to . . ." Suddenly, Philip came to a halt in front of the Pretender. He stared at the man for a long moment, watching as Jarod curled his hands inside the long sleeves of his shirt. "That's what this is all about. You are purposely defying me so that I will return pieces of your memories as punishment."

Looking up, Jarod met the man's gaze with a dark one of his own and replied, "They belong to me."

"Actually, I am the only one who can access them," the man taunted, "so, they belong to me. I can return them to you, or alter them as easily as I can destroy them. So, I suggest you cooperate."

Jarod turned his head, shifting his focus from Philip to a blank spot on the wall. Seconds later, he closed his eyes, silently willing the man to leave him alone. His body ached, his eyes were beginning to blur and his lungs hurt except during the shallowest of breaths.

"I won't run a simulation on Parker . . . or anyone else I care about."

Philip laughed and moved behind the Pretender. "I have to admit, it is a very noble sentiment. Sadly, Jarod, you are not in a position to take such a stance, because I have not given you permission to do so. You will run a simulation on anyone, and everyone, I tell you to."

Jarod shifted in the chair, leaning forward slightly in the hopes of putting distance between himself and the doctor. When he felt the man's hands on his shoulders, he squeezed his eyelids tighter and increased the tension in both his fists as he pulled his hands closer to his body. He didn't want to be goaded into performing the simulation but, in his present state, the odds were slim that he would be able to resist the order for long.

"If you're going to destroy the memories entirely, then stop talking about it and do it already," he managed, forcing a tone that was much stronger than he felt. "But, if you do, the next time you see those recordings will be when they are played for the Triumvirate at your hearing."

He felt the doctor's hands slide away from his shoulders. The light in the room was beginning to aggravate the throb of his headache but Jarod opened his eyes as far as he could tolerate and peered at the other man. Philip kept his back to him, silently considering the threat and his options for more than a minute before pivoting in place to face his captive. Though he couldn't be sure, Jarod decided that the lurch in his gut was due to the doctor's wide grin rather than the drug that was attacking his system.

"Your argument has merit," the man clucked. "Restoring your memories may be in the best interest of all involved; but, on the other hand, it might be better to give you another injection of the sedative. The memory of your reaction to the last, and only other, time you were given a double dose should still be intact. Am I correct?"

Jarod swallowed hard and nodded, suppressing a shiver as he did so.

"If I recall, you were rendered blind for several hours, and the spasms in your legs became so violent that you could not stand – even with assistance. I imagine that a disability such as that, now, could be extremely detrimental to your well-being especially since you've already had altercations with two fellow inmates – a John Owens and a Frank Birch. I assure you, they would not hesitate to take advantage if you were incapacitated. In fact, in addition to causing you more pain, they might exact retribution on the young man you've been protecting. What is his name?"

"Kyle," he whispered hoarsely.

"That's right – Kyle. You had a brother by that name, didn't you?"

The Pretender glared at the psychiatrist and nodded.

"That explains your feelings of protectiveness. After all, you were not able to help your brother, were you?" Philip slipped his arm around the man's shoulders. Involuntarily, the Pretender released a soft mew of anticipation. "I do not want to see you in more pain than necessary, my boy. I never want to hurt you. I want to protect you in much the same way you want to protect those you care about so I need to consider my options carefully."

Jarod swallowed hard, tensing and closing his eyes as the other man's hands began a deep massage of his shoulders.

"Since you are so eager to have your memories returned, I will honor your wishes and return one more. Your reaction will determine my course of action. If you still refuse to run the simulation, I will either punish your disrespectfulness with another injection, or bring our relationship to an end and destroy your memories completely." Abruptly straightening his stance, Philip moved in front of the Pretender. His fingers swept the hair from Jarod's forehead and, after a gentle caress of the man's face, whispered, "Remember, my dear boy, whatever happens next is up to you."

*********

"I have no idea who actually gave birth to me, but she was not my mother."

Ryan frowned, but said nothing, waiting patiently for the boy to continue.

"I wasn't conceived so much as I was created, Detective. I am Jarod's clone."

A week ago, he was sure the words would have generated an almost comical reaction. He would have been incredulous. He would have accused the boy of wasting his time, and threatened to charge him with some infraction that would have had no legal foundation. However, a week ago, he didn't know about the Centre; he hadn't met Lyle, Jarod or Miss Parker and he hadn't seen the DSA's or the recordings from Philip's cabin. So, instead of voicing skepticism, Ryan nodded thoughtfully at the boy's admission.

"Jarod is a natural pretender; which means the Centre had to do little training, spend very little revenue, for him to be profitable. He was a corporation's dream. So, when Mr. Raines received permission to attempt to duplicate the human genome, Jarod's DNA was chosen for the prototype. It took almost ten years before the project was successful and, when I was born, Mr. Raines petitioned to continue as my handler. He told the Triumvirate that he could gain better results than Sydney had with Jarod," he said, adding bitterly, "Raines claimed that the Centre never tapped into Jarod's true potential because he had been coddled – a mistake he made a point of not making with me."

Ryan swallowed his rising anger and, in an almost too soft voice, asked, "What did they do to you?"

Adam shook his head solemnly. "It isn't important. It won't help Jarod. I came here to help Jarod."

"Maybe, but Jarod isn't the only person I want to help."

The young man stared at Ryan for a long moment then smiled slightly. "I appreciate that, Detective. Really. But there is honestly nothing to tell. You saw the DSA's. Jarod and I had similar lives."

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The DSAs he'd viewed had been a cross section of Jarod at various ages. They'd shown the way Jarod had dealt with loneliness, simulations and nightmares, but had not shown any actual abuse – physical or otherwise - until Jarod was an adult. Everything inside of him screamed that, despite Adam's claim to the contrary, his life had been much different than his brother's.

"For the record, I don't believe you," he said moving beside the boy, "but I will not push you into telling me anything you are not comfortable revealing."

Nodding his thanks, Adam stood and moved to the opposite side of the table. He stared over Ryan's shoulder, at his own reflection, and then abruptly turned his back on both the man and the two-way mirror.

"Besides, I can't blame them for what's happened." His voice cracked mid-sentence. Clearing his throat, he started again. "As much as I would like to, I can't blame the Centre because most of it was my fault."

"You were a child, Adam. They were supposed to protect and take care of you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"That's not what I meant. You don't understand. I'm not explaining it right." Wiping his face, he returned to his chair but did not sit. Instead, he stood behind it, his hands tightly gripping the back. "Between the time I was rescued and the time I realized that I had been … mistreated at the Centre, I set all of this into motion. You and I are standing here, having this conversation, because I was an insecure child who didn't understand the concept of family."

"You are not responsible . . ."

"Yes, I am! You have to listen to what I am telling you. Please. It's important." Taking a deep breath, gripped the chair tighter and gained control of his voice. "In the process of rescuing me, Jarod was captured by the Centre and, for all purposes, the Major became my father. He held me when I got scared. He talked to me, not at me, when I was confused or angry. I had never had anyone treat me the way he did and, though I liked it, his actions made me suspicious. I thought he wanted something from me but I couldn't figure out what it was so, when he encouraged me to create an identity of my own, I put him off. I would always be Gemini because that was who Mr. Raines had said I was; it was who I had always been."

"Gemini?"

Looking up, he nodded. "Gemini is – was - my project name. The Centre and Lyle use it when referring to me. I didn't start using the name 'Adam' until after I met Emily; so it's only been about a year."

"Gemini is the zodiac sign of the twins."

"The Centre is nothing if not clever about their project names."

His thoughts revolving around Jillian's words, Ryan took a step back and dropped his eyes as he recalled the words Jillian had said to him. "Do you know when Jarod's birthday is? Or his brother's? I thought someone said something about the zodiac sign – Gemini."

"I know I'm throwing a lot at you but, I promise, I am not making this up. You have to believe me."

Startled, Ryan looked back and silently chided himself for not realizing how his actions had appeared to the younger man. "I do believe you, Adam. I believe everything you've told me except the part about it all being your fault. From what I was told, Miss Parker was shot and Jarod was captured by the Centre because he stayed behind to help her. You couldn't have prevented that, even if you'd tried."

"Yeah, well, you haven't heard the whole story, yet," he said softly. "Jarod escaped the Centre after a few months. As soon as the Major found out, everything we did or said was about finding Jarod and making plans to keep him safe."

"He was afraid of losing his son again."

"And, I understood he was afraid; but so was I," he sighed. "I was still unsure about the Major's motives for keeping me around but, at the same time, I was afraid of losing him. I had never thought of my life at the Centre as being bad; but life on the outside was definitely better and I didn't want to be the one who had to give it up. So I made a deal with Lyle. I just wanted to stay with the Major and I didn't believe that would happen if Jarod was in the picture. I have never wanted Jarod to be hurt."

"I believe you," Ryan admitted. "But, it's time you let yourself off the hook. You are not to blame for what's happening now."

Frustrated, Adam pushed the chair toward the table with such force that it tipped to the side. "Then you're not listening. Jarod became Lyle's prisoner because I gave him up."

"I heard every word," Ryan replied calmly, watching as the young man righted the chair. "Yes, you betrayed Jarod in the worst way – last year. But I was told he could have escaped at any time. He stayed with Lyle to protect Emily; just like he stayed with Miss Parker when she was shot. Jarod made a choice."

"And, this time around, he's making a choice to obey Lyle and Kelley because they came after me," Adam snapped, tears forming in his eyes. "You have no idea how many times he's been hurt because of me and I can't let it happen – not again."

"I see. So, is that why you're here now? To ease a guilty conscience and make things right with Jarod?"

"Jarod has been killing himself – literally – to keep our family safe from the Centre and our secrets safe from the rest of the world. It's time for him to be safe and I need help to make it happen."

"That means you're going to give me all the pieces to this damned puzzle," he pointed out. "If you hold anything back, then we're both just wasting time. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

Retrieving his backpack from the floor, Adam slid his laptop on to the table and smiled at the man. "I'm not only going to tell you everything, Detective, I'm going to show you a few things."

*********

He stood in the shadows, enveloped in a cold calm he did not question. She slept peacefully, taking deep and regular breaths until music from the clock radio woke her with a start. After burying her head in the pillow for an extra moment, she stretched languidly then rolled from the mattress.

Unseen, he slid behind the door of the spare room.

She began her day cheerfully, humming softly to the song on the radio as she continued into the bathroom. Soon, he heard running water and a second radio belting out the same station as the one in the bedroom. When she emerged from the smaller room, her head bobbed in time with the music and, though she did not make a sound, she energetically mouthed the words of the song.

After pulling on a pair of gray jogging shorts and a white spandex shirt that accentuated her tan, muscular form, she sat on the bed. When she leaned forward to tie the laces of her running shoes, her red hair cascaded carelessly over her face. Without a thought, the woman gathered the long locks and fashioned them into a loose ponytail as she stood and moved into the hall, still oblivious to his presence.

*********

Miss Parker was arguing with the senior guard, insisting on being admitted into the room that held Jarod and Philip, when they heard the yell. Instinctively, she reached for her gun but, having relinquished the firearm to security, she found an empty holster. Despite being unarmed, Miss Parker followed the guards into the room just as a loud crash echoed through the air.

Glancing at the uniformed men as they drew their weapons, she moved between them and the Pretender. Wrapping her arm around his, she said, "Jarod, let him go."

He was trembling and, yet, he seemed as strong as ever until she saw his eyes. Slowly, his gaze shifted from the man he had pinned to the wall and the dark orbs were bloodshot and glassy. His face was bathed in sweat and his chest was heaving at an alarming pace. Stepping closer, making it impossible for the guards to have a clear shot, she whispered, "It's okay, Jarod. You can let him go. You have to let him go."

Philip was gasping for air, his eyes were wide and his hands were pushing at the arm pressed against his throat. Jarod stared at him for a long moment, seemingly oblivious to everyone else except Parker. "He won't show me the rest."

She frowned at his words as much as his eroded voice. Carefully placing one hand on the arm that held Philip Kelley against the wall, she slid the other across Jarod's back. "It doesn't matter, Jarod. He doesn't matter."

"It does!" he insisted, pushing his arm against the man's throat. "I need to know what happened next. I need to know what I did."

Though his ragged words made sense, in an abstract way, and she felt her anger toward the doctor flare, Miss Parker managed to keep her own words soft and reassuring. "Jar, you don't need him. We will find out what happened next. You and I will find out what happened next. I promise. Now, let him go before someone else gets hurt. Please."

He thought about her words then took a deep breath. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"I know and neither do I," she promised, rubbing his back. "Please. Let him go."

Jarod hesitated then slowly loosened his hold on Philip. Immediately, the doctor took advantage. Pushing the younger man away he escaped to the far side of the room, stopping behind a large guard, as Jarod collapsed to the floor. Though Miss Parker was still holding the trembling man, two prison guards approached and pushed Jarod forward, on to his knees.

"You are not handcuffing him!"

"He attacked his therapist. He's dangerous."

"Look at him!" Kneeling beside Jarod, she supported his weight while grabbing the wrist of the man who was forcing his hands behind his back. "He can barely keep himself upright. Trust me – right now, I am more of a threat than he is!"

"We have protocol to follow."

"I don't give a damn. Can't you see he's physically ill?" she growled. "I don't know what the hell happened in here but, he was fine less than 24 hours ago. Whatever happened to him happened on your watch and now he needs help."

Frowning, the guard released Jarod's wrists then turned to the men who flanked him. "She's right. Something is definitely wrong here. Get a gurney and tell the infirmary we're bringing in a prisoner."

Parker released the breath she was holding and slid into a sitting position on the floor. Jarod stirred in her arms, his eyes focusing on her face for a moment before shifting his attention to the others in the room. His confusion was evident as his gaze moved from face to face, but she didn't question him. He was struggling to piece the events together.

When his face darkened, and his gaze fell on Philip Kelley, she slipped her hand in his. Almost immediately, the Pretender reacted, squeezing it tightly as he watched the doctor confer with one of the guards.

"He left the door open," he murmured. "If he has a chance, he'll close it. He'll destroy it and I'll never be able to get in again. I'll lose everything."

Her eyes darting between the Pretender and the psychiatrist, Miss Parker asked, "What door? Jarod, what are you talking about?"

He was silent, keeping his hand nestled in hers and his eyes trained on the doctor, until a gurney was wheeled into the room. Finally facing the woman, he murmured, "Don't leave him alone with me, Parker, or I'll never find out what happened next."

*********

The knock on the door was simultaneous with it swinging inward. Both Ryan and Adam shifted their attention from the computer screen to the man standing at the threshold.

"Cara DeWitt is here."

Ryan sighed. "She didn't happen to mention what she wants to talk to me about, did she?"

"Not a clue, Pal. Sorry."

"All right, thanks. I'll be out in a minute." Once his partner was gone, Ryan faced Adam. "I don't know how long this is going to take; but I'll be back as soon as I can."

The young man nodded. As soon as the Detective left the room, he rose from the table and moved to the door. Opening it slightly, he peered into the hall then quietly followed. From the edge of the hall, he watched as Ryan and Cara DeWitt shook hands and began their conversation.

Adam had the ability to read lips. Unlike Jarod, who didn't learn until he'd left the Centre, he'd been taught while still inside and had utilized the skill on several simulations for Mr. Raines. He was situated in such a way that he had a clear view of the Detective and the lawyer. However, because of the distance, and the fact the woman turned her head away several times while speaking, Adam could only capture isolated words of their conversation so he concentrated on their body language.

Her hand gestures, her facial expressions and the fact that she pivoted away from Ryan twice, only to face him again, were clear indications that the woman was angry. Merging this information with the few words he could piece together, Adam concluded that she'd been to the hospital and refused entrance to Jillian's room.

Curious, he turned his attention on Ryan. The man was calm but his arms were folded across his chest as he listened to the woman's tirade. When he finally did speak, telling her that he was within his rights to put a guard at the victim's door, it was with a shrug of his shoulders.

The woman's face was clearly visible when she told the detective that, as Jarod's lawyer, she had a right to interview Jillian.

"I never said you didn't," Ryan replied. "If the girl asked that you be removed from her room, there's nothing I can do with it. My men did what I would have expected them to do."

Again, the woman pivoted away and, though he couldn't see her lips move, he knew she'd said something because of Ryan's reaction. Dropping his arms to his side, he moved in front of the woman, blocking her exit.

"You can go to any judge you like," he said, his anger visible by the tight muscles around his mouth. "But, if you do, you're going to have to explain what you said or did to upset the only person who can convince the world your client is innocent. So, why don't you just tell me?"

He was so involved in watching the altercation that Adam almost missed seeing the two women enter the police station. They stood at the wide double doors for a moment, their eyes darting around the room with sheer determination. His mother spotted Ryan first but, before she could interrupt his discussion with Cara, her focus was redirected by Emily. With no more than a tap on Margaret's shoulder, the younger woman headed toward the corridor leading to the interrogation rooms. Immediately, Margaret followed.

Adam frowned at the approach and took a step back. As he did, though, his gaze fell on Jarod's lawyer. Cara watched his mother and sister cross the room and, when she saw him standing at the edge of the hall, her eyes widened with surprise. After a quick glance at Ryan, who was now staring at Cara with obvious curiosity, the young man backed down the hall, knowing Margaret and Emily would follow. Something told him he needed to get his family out of the woman's line of sight.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you on the phone. I came to help Jarod, Mom."

The woman stared at him. It was a hard stare, one that he knew she used when she was determined to make him see things her way. He glanced at Emily for support but his sister just shook her head and took a step toward the wall. With a heavy sigh, Adam looked back at his mother and reached for her hand.

"I really know what I'm doing," he promised. "I can clear Jarod. I can make everyone at the Centre, including Lyle, leave us alone."

"At what price?" she dared.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily raise her eyes to stare at him. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does!" Then, in a sudden, almost too-calm voice, she added, "I will not lose one child to save another, even if one of them mistakenly believes they are expendable."

He had expected that his mother would be against his plan; he had expected that she would try to talk him out of it and use Jarod's wishes, her fears and his father's ability to keep them all safe, as reasons he should leave well enough alone. What he hadn't expected were tears. She wasn't crying – at least not in any way he had ever seen before. She wasn't wiping at her eyes, or turning away in frustration. She wasn't releasing heavy but shuddered sighs. She wasn't struggling to keep her voice from cracking. Instead, her grey orbs shimmered for a moment then, seemingly without her knowledge, the tears silently slipped down the side of her face.

He felt her squeeze his hand, as if to accentuate her point. Swallowing the guilt that was rising within him, Adam whispered, "I'm sorry. I have to do this."

*********

"Hey! Answer my question," Ryan demanded, bringing Cara's attention back on him.

She stared at him a moment, then pivoted to look toward the hall. "Who were those people?"

Frowning, he glanced in the direction she indicated then looked back at her. "Why do you want to know?"

"Are they connected to Jarod's case?"

"Now, why would you think they have anything to do with Jarod?"

"Call it a gut feeling."

He smiled and shook his head. "I hate to disappoint you, but they're here on a different investigation."

She scowled at him. "An investigation into what?"

"None of your damned business. Now, do you want to see Jillian Kincade, or not?"

Taking a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder once more then nodded. "Of course I do, that's why I'm here."

"Fine, then let's go. If you're not going to tell me what happened, I'm going to sit in on the interview."

"Like hell you are."

"Take it or leave it," he growled. "I don't know what you did to her to get yourself kicked out but it must have been pretty harsh for my men to ban you from the room. The only way you're going to get in to see that girl again is if I'm with you."

*********

The words were soft and meant to be a gentle assertion of his confidence. He wanted her on his side. He wanted her on his side. So, when Margaret pulled her hand from his and turned away, Adam felt the blood drain from his face.

"Mom . . ."

The slight shake of her head and a weak raise of her hand stopped him from continuing. He looked at Emily, silently pleading for her help and, in response, his sister dropped her eyes. His gaze darted back to his mother and, suddenly, it seemed as if his entire world was collapsing and he was powerless to stop it.

"At least let me tell you. Please. Let me explain what I want to do and . . ."

"Elvis, some thing has happened," Emily murmured. He brought his eyes back to his sister as she approached him. "Miss Parker called from the prison. Jarod was locked up with Philip Kelley for almost four hours. He was drugged and . . ."

His eyes widened when the woman's words faded. "Is Jarod all right?"

"We don't know. Dad and Sydney are on their way to see him but it didn't sound good." She glanced at her mother. "After they were gone, we came here to find you."

Adam looked back at his mother. Still standing with her back to him, the woman had wrapped her arms around herself and was leaning against the wall. He moved to her side and, hesitantly, pulled her to his chest.

*********

TBC (as if you hadn't figured that out!)

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