Disclaimer in part 1

Note: Yes, it's still "Day 8". What can I say? The days and nights are really long for our hero because I have yet to learn how to edit.

Warning: This is an EXTREMELY long chapter (again, because I have yet to learn how to edit). I hope you like it.

Survival II – Retribution

By imagine

Chapter 29/?

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."

*********

He gave into his exhaustion the moment he was placed on the gurney but she kept her promise. She stayed with him as he was wheeled through the corridors of the visitor's wing, and into the sector that housed the medical staff. The infirmary was one level underground and larger than she expected. There were no windows, so the only light was from the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. With images of the Renewal Wing creeping into her thoughts, Parker allowed herself an angry tirade aimed at the staff nurse when the woman directed the guards to take Jarod into the main ward and to escort her to the door. After only a few minutes the nurse acquiesced to Parker's wishes.

He woke briefly during her rant but quickly returned to a fitful sleep. Minutes later, after being transferred from the stretcher to a bed in a room reserved for quarantined patients, he woke again. Startled, he struggled against the straps that held his ankles and wrists, but calmed considerably when she moved into his line of sight. With one hand in his, she rested the other on his chest and told him to take deep breaths and keep his eyes on her.

"You're okay, Jarod. It's just you and me."

His eyes darted around the private room, as if confirming her words. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. About twenty minutes." Raising the head of the bed so he was in a sitting position, she reached for the pitcher on the bedside table and filled the plastic cup. "Have some water, you'll feel better."

When he instinctively reached for the glass, and was reminded of the restraints, his eyes dropped to his wrists.

"The doctor put them on as a precaution," she told him. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Considering what I was doing when you found me, I can't blame him," he admitted, falling back against the pillows. When she slid her hand across his brow he turned away. "I'm okay, Parker."

"You're trembling."

"I'm okay."

She frowned and the cup to his lips. "Drink."

He offered a weak smile then obeyed the command.

"I called your father and Sydney. They should be here in soon."

Instead of berating her for contacting his family, as she expected, Jarod hesitated, swallowed another sip of water then asked, "What about Philip? Where is he?"

"He's with the infirmary doctor – a Doctor Collins - trying to explain what happened. Broots is running a check on Collins, just in case, but, I saw his reaction when he you were brought in. I think the guy is okay." She waited until he nodded then continued, "When Kelley is done with Collins, he has an appointment with Security and, then, though he doesn't know it yet, he has an appointment with me."

She shot Jarod a wry smile. His return smile faded when he glanced toward the closed door.

"Kelley isn't going to get anywhere near this room. The guards have strict orders."

He looked back at her and nodded. "I know."

"He claims he's given you the drug before and that this was the first time you've had an adverse reaction."

"Adverse reaction," Jarod repeated, suppressing a cough. "Well, I suppose, you could say he is telling the truth. This was the first time I ever attacked him."

She held the cup of water to his lips again, and, while he drank, asked, "You remember him giving you this drug before?"

"It was part of my 'training'," he murmured heavily. "He gave it to me whenever I was overly disobedient or unruly."

"I see. So, he used it a lot."

*********

Adam rose from the table as Lou entered with the bottles of water. Leaving his mother and sister where they were, he moved across the room, meeting the police detective at the half way point. He glanced over his shoulder at the women then, as he took the water from the man, asked, "When is Detective Stratford returning?"

"I really don't know, Kid," Lou replied sympathetically. "All he said is that he'd be back as soon as he could."

Adam frowned. He knew that Ryan and Cara were headed to the hospital, because he'd read their lips; but he didn't think now was the right time to reveal he had that ability. "Do you happen to know where he and Jarod's lawyer were headed?"

"If I could tell you, I would." Glancing over the younger man's shoulder at the women who were now watching them intently, he added, "But, if I don't hear from him in the next half hour, I'll call his cell to get status. Okay?"

"Thank you."

Waiting until the Detective left, Adam turned and faced his mother and sister. Immediately, Margaret averted her gaze. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the table and placed the bottles of water in the center.

"Does he know?"

Adam cracked open the lid on his bottle and took a long drink as he sat beside her. "No. I only told Detective Stratford, Mom."

"How do you know he hasn't . . .?"

"Because I know," the boy interrupted, not bothering to hide his irritation. "He won't tell anyone. At least not until after we've talked more."

She rubbed her temples and shook her head. "If he truly hasn't told anyone then maybe we still have a chance of putting this right. When he returns, we can explain . . ."

"Mom, we have been over this. I promise, telling Detective Stratford was the right thing to do. He will help us."

"Help us with what, Adam? We don't know anything about him. He could have ties to the Centre."

"You don't believe that. If he were working for the Centre, Sweepers would have showed up on our doorstep a long time ago." Taking a deep breath, he took his mother's hand. "Mom, I know you're scared, but you trust Detective Stratford. Dad, Jarod and Emily trust him. Even Miss Parker trusts him and she doesn't trust anyone. She showed him the DSA's; she let him spend the night at the bungalows."

Margaret shook her head and reached for a bottle of water. Without opening it, she stood and moved to toward the door, clutching the plastic container with both hands. "It could be a ruse. Jarod's in jail because of Lyle. He refuses to see anyone but her and Philip Kelley. Lyle is her brother. What if . . ."

"Do not continue that thought," he warned, darkly. "Miss Parker is our friend, and you know it. She is not working with the Centre."

Margaret stared at her son a moment, startled by the tone in his voice. The young man's gaze was glistening but his expression was hard and his posture was suddenly stiff. She'd known, of course, that her son had a crush on the brunette but this was the first time she had seen him exhibit the same level of protectiveness that Jarod displayed.

"I will admit that Miss Parker has not displayed any loyalty to the Centre."

The fact that his mother's words and tone seemed to be contradictory was not lost on him; however he chose not to push the issue. He did not want the conversation to spiral into speculation about what Miss Parker might have been doing between the time she left Jarod, and when she reappeared in his life a week ago. He believed the brunette when she said she'd formed a crew to investigate what Lyle was doing with Jarod's DNA samples and that she had been trying to protect Jarod from a distance. However, he also knew the histories each woman had with the Centre, so he understood why his mother was skeptical about Miss Parker's claims.

"Nor has Detective Stratford," he insisted, gently. "Broots and I both ran background checks on him. He came up clean."

"So did Philip Kelley at first," she snapped. Seeing his eyes widen and then dart away from her, guiltily, the woman silently chastised herself and, in a softer tone, said, "I'm sorry. I did not mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that Lyle kept the association hidden well. None of this was the fault of you or Mr. Broots, Baby. You don't have to prove anything."

The young man took a deep breath and, after wiping his face with both hands, nodded, "I know but I still have to do this, Mom. I want . . . it's time for the family to be safe, once and for all."

"What about you? I need you to be safe. Just because Detective Stratford is clean, doesn't mean that the Centre doesn't have an operative somewhere nearby," she told him. "They have ways of finding things out. If they discover what you're planning, you and Jarod will be in danger."

"Mom, we're in danger now. We've been in danger our entire lives," he said quietly. "I'll be careful. I promise."

"What about Jarod? Your brother is in prison and, until your father calls, we have no idea what condition he is in. He's an easy target," she told him. "You heard what Miss Parker said yesterday – there is no telling how many people at the prison are associated with the Centre. You cannot run a background check on all of them."

"I know," he nodded, averting his gaze. "But, Jarod will be all right."

"You don't know that!" With a wave of her hand, Margaret shook her head and turned away. "I cannot believe that you thought this was a good idea. I cannot believe that you didn't see fit to discuss this with the family before you put things in motion."

Exasperated, Adam looked to his sister for help in explaining the merits of his plan to their mother, but, instead, the younger woman rose from the table and moved to the far side of the room. He followed her with his eyes until she stopped at the corner and faced him without a word. He knew that she was still hurt that he had not confided in her about the things Lyle had done to him. The fact that he had left without a word in order to implement a plan he had never discussed with her was probably making things even worse between them; but he didn't have the time to talk to her about it. He needed her to understand. He needed her to trust him, the way he had always trusted her. .

"I know you're disappointed in me and I'm sorry. I really am," he sighed. "But, I didn't talk this over with anyone because I'm not going to change my mind."

"You didn't talk to us because, deep down, you have doubts. You're just being stubborn. You know you are wrong."

"We won't know if I'm right or if I'm wrong, until who I am becomes public knowledge," he replied. "We need to let it play out."

"By then, it could be too late."

"It might already be too late. What we're doing – what we've been doing – running every time there is the slightest threat isn't fixing anything. While we look for a place to hide, Jarod runs interference and gets hurt – physically and emotionally. Each time it's worse than the time before. I know that this is not the life you want for any of us." When she looked away, sheepishly, he added, "The Centre is banking on the fact that we're so afraid of losing what we have that we won't come out of hiding to expose them."

"And they would be right," the woman hissed angrily. "I am too afraid to expose them. Kyle is dead. Jarod is in jail. You've been taken from me twice in the last week. Of course I want to stop hiding, to know my family is safe; but I won't lose anyone else, in the process, Adam. I can't."

Once again, Adam glanced at his sister but Emily did not react to the words. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on him as if she were curious about his reply. With a deep sigh, he turned back to his mother.

"Do you really think Kyle would be okay with hiding like this, if he were alive? And, Jarod – Jarod could have disappeared the moment he escaped from the Centre. He could have started a new life and never surfaced on their radar. I promise you, they would never have found him. Instead, he openly searched for Dad, Kyle, Emily, and you. He even put himself in danger to rescue me, though he didn't have any obligation to do so."

"We're not talking about your brothers, and what they've done. We're talking about you."

"We can't talk about me unless we talk about them. Don't you see? We're standing here, having this conversation, because of the risks they took – and what did it get them? Kyle's dead and Jarod has been kidnapped, drugged and abused in ways . . ." he let his voice fade when she turned her head. "Kyle went from the Centre to prison and then died fighting for his freedom. History is repeating itself, Mom. We have to stop it now."

"No. The situations are different," she insisted. "Jarod is in prison because he won't fight. He's trying to protect us."

"And Kyle died protecting Jarod," he pointed out. "Mom, it's just not fair. It's not fair to Jarod, or to us, to keep going down the same path because, eventually, someone will be lost – just as Kyle was. If our family has any hope of surviving, we need to do the unexpected. It's time we all started fighting back. It's time we started hiding in plain sight."

"He's right," a quiet voice said from the corner. "We can't expect different results if we keep making the same choices." Though her words were directed at their mother, Emily locked eyes with Adam. "I understand what Adam is saying. I understand what he's trying to accomplish by announcing to the world that he is Jarod's clone. He wants to prove it to them. He wants to be on the front page of every newspaper, the subject of every internet blog and a guest on every talk show."

"To what end? None of that will change what's happening now for the better. It won't change the fact that Jarod is trapped in that prison, or make either of them less of a target for the Centre."

Emily looked at her mother. "Adam and Jarod have the same DNA. By going public, Adam will be tainting the jury pool. People will have no choice but to consider that, maybe, Jarod didn't commit the crimes he's accused of." She looked back at her brother. "He's providing the reasonable doubt."

"There is nothing reasonable about any of this," Margaret muttered, turning her attention back on her son. "By proving that you have the same DNA, you may free your brother but what if something goes wrong? What if you become a suspect?"

"Mom, I was in Chicago when three of the murders took place and I can prove it, if I need to," he said. "But it won't come to that. I promise."

"Don't do that! Do not promise something you do not have the power to deliver." Margaret turned away from her son for a moment, then turned back to face him – her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Even if the authorities don't come after you as a suspect, others might and they may be even more ruthless than the Centre."

"Or, after a burst of publicity, our family could settle into a normal life, the life you and Dad wanted when you were married."

She shook her head and moved closer to him. "Have you even discussed this with Jarod? You're putting his life in danger, don't you think he should have a say?"

"This isn't about me and Jarod; at least, not the way you're thinking. It is about the Centre," he said, quietly. "Jarod would understand."

"Oh, dear God."

"Once the public knows of my existence," he continued, "they'll have no choice but to question how I came to be and, hopefully, consider the possibility that there are more like me. When they start asking questions. . . "

"You don't just want to protect the family. You want to bring the Centre down."

*********

Her back was against the wall, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes trained on the door marked 'Private'. The scowl on her face felt as if it were becoming a permanent state. As she waited for Jarod's exam to be complete, she tried to remember when, or if, either of them had smiled since she returned to his life. Frustrated, she sighed and pushed herself from the wall, keeping her arms folded. Simultaneously, the door opened and the doctor appeared at the threshold.

"He would like to see you."

Miss Parker let her arms fall to her side and slowly moved toward the infirmary room. The doctor moved to the side, allowing her to pass, but rather than doing so, she stopped in front of him.

"How is he?"

The man hesitated then glanced over her shoulder, into the room. "His wounds are superficial and he is less agitated than he was when he was brought in, but we agreed to keep the restraints in place for now. It seems as if whatever Dr. Kelley injected is causing an excruciating headache, muscle spasms, chills and flashbacks – or hallucinations – we're not sure which. I don't know how much was given to him, but Dr. Kelley tells me the effects should wear off in about ten hours. Unfortunately, the flashbacks, especially, are causing Jarod anxiety which, in turn, causes a dangerous spike in his blood pressure. He needs to rest, preferably with a period of uninterrupted, peaceful sleep."

"Good luck with that," she sighed. "Can't you give him something – a sedative?"

"Not without knowing the components of what he has already been given and I'm afraid, in that regard, Dr. Kelley is not being as cooperative as I would like." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved three vials of blood each labeled with Jarod's name. "I'm hoping these will give me a clue about how to help Jarod."

"And if they don't?"

He sighed and returned the vials back to his pocket. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime – at least until the drug wears off – I'm going to keep him in the infirmary and out of the general population for his safety, as well as his fellow inmates."

She looked into the room for a long moment then faced the doctor again. "If he's that bad off, why are you letting me see him?"

"He asked for you," the man replied, simply. "And, frankly, I think your presence will help to reduce his stress and keep him calm."

"For Jarod's sake, I hope you're right."

At the sound of the soft click of the door closing, Jarod rolled his head toward her. She thought she saw a brief smile but it faded so quickly she couldn't be sure. It was instinct for her to glance around the room and, when her gaze returned to Jarod, his eyes had closed.

Despite the fresh bruises around his mouth and cheeks, and the bloodshot eyes she knew were hidden beneath the closed lids, she told herself that his coloring had improved slightly. He was still pale but not as much as he had been earlier.

"You look better."

"You used to be a better liar, Miss Parker."

"Would you have preferred I said you looked like death warmed over?"

"At least it would have been closer to the truth." Watching as she slid a heavy metal chair to the side of his bed, Jarod adopted a softer tone. "I never thanked you, did I?"

"You don't need to thank me. It was your plan, remember?"

"Yes, I also remember that you were the one who had to execute it."

"It wasn't that difficult, considering how little the State pays its correctional officers," she assured him. "It's amazing what kind of support you can get for a few dollars these days."

"Well, if you and your informant – whoever they are – hadn't gotten me out of there, my situation would have been much worse right now," he told her. "I would have killed Philip."

"I can't speak for my informant; but I can tell you that my actions were purely selfish." Crossing her legs, she sat back in the chair and stared at him. "If I let you kill Kelley, I wouldn't be able to and, trust me, I've been looking forward to it since the day I met him. I've got some very creative ideas that we can discuss when you're stronger."

He smiled briefly then glanced toward the door. "Where is he now?"

"He's with the Heads of Security. They'll come in and talk to you, as soon as Doctor Cooper allows it. From what I've been told, the warden has already been suspended until an investigation can be completed. It seems he gave permission for the all day session and ordered the cameras to be deactivated."

Jarod nodded and closed his eyes, but said nothing.

Remembering what the doctor had said about Jarod's headaches, she allowed a few minutes of silence before stating softly, "This shouldn't have happened. You were supposed to be pretending."

"I was, Parker. I promise you." He turned to look at her, without lifting his head from the pillow. "Things just got out of control."

"Okay, then tell me how they got out of control."

Jarod sighed. "Philip wanted the disks. He was demanding I run a simulation to find them and the more I refused the more frustrated and angry he became."

"So, naturally you continued to refuse so you could get more of a rise out of him," she accused. "You like living dangerously, don't you?"

Jarod shrugged and offered her a tired smile. "Maybe, but I never intended to let myself be injected. The moment I realized what Philip was planning, I decided that, when the guard returned with the drug, I would cause a scene and get myself escorted back to my cell before it could be administered."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Philip was desperate for me to run the simulation, to obey his commands without question. He started threatening me with my memories. He claimed that he suppressed and altered them to protect me and that I owed him." The Pretender spoke in a low, bitter tone. "He said that if I didn't do as he instructed, he would punish me by returning a few of the memories. Once I experienced the pain they would cause, I would understand and be willing to do anything for him to take them away again."

"Philip Kelley wasn't the only person in that room who was desperate."

"Yes, I was desperate. I still am. You have no idea what it's like to lose time, to wonder what you've done and to whom," he replied softly. "I knew what the drug could do – what it's done to me in the past - but I didn't care. I was willing to take that risk in order to fill in some of the blanks."

"And that risk landed you here. Was it worth it?"

Jarod thought about the question a moment then, in a tired voice, replied, "Philip filled my mind with images that contradict some of the memories I've been clinging to as being true. His versions are not pleasant but, if they're accurate, they could explain why the things I remember do not fit together in the way they should."

"You aren't saying that you believe him, are you?"

"I honestly do not know what I believe," he sighed. "I know what I want to be real and I know what he told me; the truth is probably somewhere in between."

Miss Parker hesitated, watching him try to shift to a more comfortable position despite the restraints that held him in place. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled as he twisted the lower part of his spine until his body was in alignment. After a moment, he looked at her, questioningly, as if he had felt the weight of her stare. His gaze, though, pulled her out of her trance.

Clearing her throat, she said, "When the guards and I broke into the room, you had Kelley pinned to the wall. Your arm was pressed to his throat. You kept saying he wouldn't tell you what happened next."

There was no question, but Jarod nodded and swallowed hard. "Philip showed me something . . . a partial memory that I had no recollection of. He wouldn't . . ."

When his voice faded and didn't return immediately, she decided she'd pushed him too far too son. "It's okay, Jarod. I get it. When Sydney arrives . . ."

He shook his head, took a deep breath and, though he'd intended a stronger voice, whispered, "No. You . . . don't understand. You need to know. I . . . I was there, Parker. I was at Jillian's house that night. I stood in the shadows and watched her dress for her run. She didn't know I was there. I let her leave. When she returned . . . I . . . attacked her from behind"

Jarod turned away from her, once again training his eyes on the ceiling. His eyes glazed over then closed. The rise and fall of his chest quickened. His hands curled into fists then, just as quickly, opened and closed again as he pulled at the cloth restraints. She knew, immediately, that he was seeing the images Philip had planted.

"I put my hand over her mouth." His voice was filled with so much pain, the words sounded more like a moan than a statement. "She struggled. She kicked. She fought hard but I was stronger."

Remembering the doctor's warning about Jarod's blood pressure, Parker moved closer to the bed and slid her hand over his. "Philip Kelley is, among other things, a liar. You told me so yourself. We will find out what really happened, but right now, you need to relax."

"She was terrified. She was trembling. I could feel her tears on the side of my hand and the vibrations of her cries against my palm. I . . . I wrapped my free arm around her waist. I pulled her back and . . . and pinned her against my chest as I dragged her into . . . the bedroom." He looked away and though the trunk of his body suddenly went lax, he struggled to find a breath. "That's where it . . . ends, Parker. I don't know . . . what I . . . I don't know what happened next."

"I don't believe you hurt her. I don't know what happened that night, and I don't know what you're seeing now, but I'm not going to let you take Philip Kelley's word that you are to blame. Do you understand me?" Squeezing his hand as it flexed in its restraint, she forced herself to use a strong tone, "Jarod, look at me. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. No, I said slowly. Jarod . . . Shit. This isn't working. I'm going to get the doctor."

"No." Suddenly, his fingers found hers and gripped them tightly. "Don't leave."

"Jarod, I don't know what to do to help you," she insisted. "You're hyperventilating. You're blood pressure must be through the roof. You need the doctor."

"No. I don't need . . . him. I just need . . . ." His voice was heavy, filled with thick, shallow breaths. He squeezed her hand again and smiled weakly as he closed his eyes. "Help me focus on . . . something else. It will help."

"Jarod . . ."

"Tell me about . . . something I should remember; something good. Something you know to be . . . true."

"Jarod, you need a doctor. You . . ."

"No." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Please. Tell me about . . . us."

"Us?" she asked, startled by the request.

"Philip altered some - maybe all – of my memories before he . . . locked them away. The door is open now but, before I try to take them back, I need to know what's . . . real." His eyes opened slowly and he turned to meet her gaze. "Just talk to me, Parker, tell me a truth about us. You . . . . you are the only one . . . who can."

His body tensed again and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head toward the ceiling. Instinctively, she increased the pressure of her grip on his hand, as if trying to add her strength to his. After about half a minute, his body went lax and, though it was still quicker than normal, his breathing began to regulate.

"I'm . . . okay," he promised, seeing the fear in her face. "It was just a muscle spasm."

"There didn't look to be anything 'just' about it."

He forced a weak smile. "It's nothing . . . I haven't . . . dealt with before."

"That's what bothers me." Still holding his hand, she took a deep breath, glanced toward the door then raked her free hand through her hair. "So, you want me to tell you the truth about us. You really think that will help you rest?"

He nodded, but didn't reply.

"Are you sure? You've had a rough day and, well, you and I . . . we're . . . complicated."

Jarod closed his eyes and murmured, "Stop stalling."

"Fine," she sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He smiled and nodded but kept his eyes closed.

Pulling her hand from his, she folded her arms in front of her and took a step away from the bed. "What do you remember about the day I moved in to the beach house?"

"Emily invited you. She gave you a key . . . without telling me."

"Yes, but that's not the day I mean," she said quietly. "What do you remember about the first time I moved in with you?"

Slowly, Jarod's head rolled toward her and his eyes opened. His gaze seemed darker and, at the same time, more innocent than before. He stared at her, his brow furrowing in concentration briefly before he whispered, "I don't know."

She reached for the water pitcher, and filled two cups. After taking a long swallow from the first, she picked up the second and held it to Jarod's lips. When he turned away; indicating that he'd had his fill, she frowned and said, "It was raining and I was an hour late. You were waiting on the porch and the very first thing you said to me was that everyone was beginning to get worried. Then you said you'd tried to call me several times and wanted to know why I didn't answer my phone."

"So?"

"So, I hadn't even gotten out of the car, and we were arguing."

"I told you we were worried," he managed, not bothering to mask the confusion in his voice. "That was arguing?"

"Hell, yeah," she laughed, sliding the cup on the side table, "especially after I told you that I was a big girl and didn't need anyone worrying about me. You then made things worse by telling me I needed to get used to it if our arrangement was going to work. At that point, I informed you that I didn't have to get used to anything because I could – and would – leave any time I felt like it."

His gaze turned toward the ceiling and his expression was suddenly somber. She let her smile fade and tried to swallow the guilt rising in her throat. Philip Kelley may have left gaping holes where Jarod's memories had been, but there was no doubt that he'd left the hurt associated with her leaving in tact. He had admitted to using it to manipulate Jarod more than once. Now, all she could do was hope that Jarod remembered what she'd confessed a few nights before. Even if he hadn't forgiven her, he would know the truth and they wouldn't have to have the conversation again.

"Jarod?"

"It's all right, Parker," he murmured as he turned back to her. "I know why you left."

She stared at him, skeptically.

"We had a long talk at your apartment," he said, proving that his memory of the subject was in tact. "You explained everything, including the fact that you were trying to protect me. Either I never had a chance to discuss it with Philip, or he didn't have time to alter it, because even though I still remember that I would have preferred you talked to me, instead of leaving a note and disappearing in the night, I understand that you thought you had no choice."

"You do?"

"Yes. Now, please, tell me more about what happened the day you moved in."

She hesitated a moment then sighed and said, "We stopped arguing the moment your parents stepped on to the porch. Your father welcomed me and took my bags upstairs. Your mother put her arm around me and ushered me into the house, offering me iced tea and promising that we would become great friends."

"Did you?"

She looked at him. "Did I what?"

"Did you and my mother become great friends?"

"Let's deal with one thing at a time, Jarod. You and I are complicated enough, but you, your mother and I are . . . well, let's not get into that now, okay?" When he nodded grudgingly, she said, "Good."

"Go on with your story."

"You're trembling again. Maybe I should . . ."

"I'm fine. Stop stalling."

She frowned then paused to collect her thoughts. "Where was I?"

"We stopped arguing for my parent's sake."

"Right." She took a deep breath and continued, "We did our best to behave; but it was as if we couldn't help ourselves. We argued about where to hang that hideous mirror you bought at Sears, what music to listen to with dinner, which of us should do the dishes, who should empty the garbage and what you had planned for us to do the next day. It's impossible to remember everything we bickered about but those were the highlights. Your parents did a decent job playing referee, but when they went to their room and we started disagreeing about the rules to Pinochle, I decided I'd had enough and went to bed."

He stared at her as she rose from the bed and crossed the room. "That's it? That's the story that came to mind when I asked you to tell me about us?"

"Don't get your shorts in a knot. I'm not done." Parker retrieved a blanket from the cabinet beside the door and returned to his side. "I went upstairs wondering if I'd made a mistake. You and I argue. It's what we do. At least, it's what we've done most of our adult lives. I wasn't sure we could communicate any other way, especially in such close quarters, and I didn't know how it would affect your recovery."

"So, you were considering leaving, even then."

His voice was low and sad, but rather than trying to reassure him, Parker, continued, "I took a shower and slipped into an old T-shirt and shorts. I was laying on the chaise lounge on the balcony, considering my options when you appeared in the doorway."

He said nothing, his eyes moving from her face to her hands as she placed the blanket at the edge of the bed and unbuckled the restraint on his left ankle. As the strap fell away, she reached down and gently massaged the abused area of skin, before moving on to do the same with his left wrist.

"You draped a light blanket across my lap and shoulders and told me it could get chilly by the ocean at night. Then you leaned over and kissed me."

The words hung between them for a few seconds before Jarod asked, "Did you kiss me back?"

The question was soft and, she thought, carried an almost serious tone. "Kiss you back? You kissed me on the forehead, like I was your sister or something."

He frowned and looked at her skeptically.

"You wanted the truth," she reminded him.

When the Pretender shot her another confused look, she dropped her gaze and freed his wrist from the restraint and continued the story, "You thanked me for moving in. You said that everyone walked on eggshells around you, afraid that you would either snap or have a meltdown. The fact that I was still treating you the same – bickering with you and challenging every word out of your mouth, you said you knew your life had not spun completely out of control."

Laying his hand on his chest, she let her own hand linger for only a second before pulling away. Jarod said nothing, his eyes trained attentively on hers even as she dropped the railing on the right side of the bed.

"I guess, at that point, you became self-conscious because you suddenly said goodnight and started for the door." Hugging herself, she took a deep breath and lowered herself to the chair. "I told you that you didn't have to leave. You said you did."

"It was too soon."

She hesitated. "Do you remember?"

"Not all of it," he admitted quietly, watching as she moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. "But I remember that you seemed to understand that I meant it was too soon for me, not for us."

"I knew what Lyle had done," she said quietly. "What else do you remember?"

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I would rather you tell me what really happened. I'll tell you if it matches anything floating around in my memory."

She nodded and, though he closed his eyes again, she kept her gaze fixated on his face. "Well, judging by the way you moved and the way your eyes glistened, I could see that you obviously hadn't slept in days. I knew that, if you left, you wouldn't rest. You would go somewhere and try to make sense of what you remembered about the cabin. I didn't think you were strong enough to handle it on your own."

He looked at her, his brow furrowing with confusion. "Did you say that to me?"

"And start another argument? No, I didn't say it," she laughed. Then, slipping her hand in his, she adopted a more serious tone and promised, "But I did tell you not to leave, Jar, I asked you to trust me and . . ."

"So . . . you didn't nod and turn away? You didn't return to the balcony and let me leave?"

"No." She narrowed her eyes and forced a sarcastic tone, "And, if that's what you remember, I now have one more reason to make Kelley's downfall as painful as possible."

He smiled slightly at what he perceived was an attempt to lighten the mood, but did not offer a comment. He stared at the way her hand folded over his while his mind was raced to identify and make sense of the pictures that were surfacing.

"You took my hand. You brought me back to the chaise on to the balcony." Unsure of whether he was reciting fact or fantasy, he shifted his attention to her face as he hesitantly continued her story. "Then you slid beside me and pulled the blanket over both of us. When I asked you what you were doing . . . you told me to shut up and close my eyes."

When she smiled and nodded, Jarod inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on her hand. "I didn't spend the night on the beach, alone, trying to piece together what Lyle did to me."

"No."

Squeezing her hand once more before letting go, Jarod brought both hands to his face and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. She asked if he was all right and, unable to find the words to explain that he was concentrating on the visions that were suddenly swimming through his mind, he managed a slight nod. He needed the images to last. He needed them to burn themselves into his brain as much as he needed the associated emotions to take root in his heart. As illogical as it seemed, he was afraid if opened his eyes, or spoke, too soon, everything would fade – and if that happened, he would lose them forever.

"We stayed on the balcony all night," she told him. "We didn't move until after the sun came up."

"I fell asleep with you in my arms, listening to the tide roll on and off the beach," he whispered, using his fingers to clutch locks of his own hair. "I woke at sunrise the same way."

"Yes."

"You didn't push me away. You . . . stayed with me," he whispered. "I wasn't alone."

Reaching for his hands, she gently drew them away from his face. When he finally looked at her, she promised, "I fell asleep in your arms, Jarod, and decided that there was no place I would rather be."

"You told me that didn't you? In the morning, you said . . ." When she nodded, he released a shuddered breath and averted his eyes.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to go on?"

He swallowed, nodded, and leaned against the pillows. "Yes."

Taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes on his and said, "The rain had stopped during the night. There was a cool wind but, when we woke, we didn't go inside right away. You shifted your weight so that your body blocked me from some of the breeze, pulled the blanket to my shoulders and held me closer."

"You stayed in my arms and we talked," he whispered.

She waited until she was sure he wasn't going to continue the story then said, "We talked about the ocean, about how fascinating it was to consider there was another world just below the surface. We talked about how calm it was compared to the night before. You told me something about the water temperature for that time of year and said you'd planned on going for a swim after breakfast."

"You said all you wanted was coffee. When we finally got up . . . ." He saw her smile as another image invaded his mind. "I kissed you again. I kissed you and, this time, it wasn't on the forehead."

Her grin widened and she nodded, but Miss Parker did not speak. Instead, she watched his face as started to resemble the man she'd known a long time ago. He seemed more relaxed. His dark eyes, though bloodshot, and shadowed by bruises, didn't hold the same confused expression they'd had when she'd found him with Kelley.

"For almost a year, the ocean has been a refuge for me," he whispered. "I search it out whenever I am confused or upset. I don't need to be standing on the beach. As long as I can hear it or taste the salt in the air, I can close my eyes, imagine the waves and feel myself relax."

She looked at him and nodded. "I know."

"No, you don't understand. No matter how hard I tried, I could never figure out why it had such a calming affect on me," he said, softly. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, he let his finger slide down the side of her face. "Now I know. That night, my subconscious made a connection between the ocean and you."

"I don't know about that," she sighed, pushing the top blanket to the side. "It sounds a little contrived."

"No. The ocean kept me sane, Parker, because of you."

"I think you're talking yourself into it, and I am not going to argue with you, Jarod. Not today. Take it up with Sydney, when he gets here."

"It makes sense," he repeated as she slid beside him and pulled the blanket to their waists. With one arm on his chest and the other nestled between her body and his, she settled her head on his shoulder. When she slid one leg over his, he tenderly closed his arms around her and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for giving me back a memory that . . ."

"You're being melodramatic just to tick me off, aren't you? I didn't do anything except remind you of something that happened last year," she replied, feigning annoyance. "Now, let it go."

He smiled at the embarrassment in her voice. Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips to her temple and let the silence fall between them. Because he was feeling better than he had in months, though, he soon adopted a playful tone and asked, "Why haven't you and my mother become friends, yet?"

Shifting in her arms so that she could look him squarely in the eye, she replied, "I've shared enough truths for one day and you need to rest. Now shut up and close your eyes or, so help me, I will have the guards reinstate the restraints and then gag you myself."

Again, Jarod smiled and pulled her closer. "Yes, ma'am."

Bringing her head back to his shoulder, Miss Parker smiled.

*********

"What the hell is going on in there?"

The man hesitated and stepped around the corner, hoping it would supply a bit more privacy. "You name it, it's happening. The warden has been suspended; Dr. Kelley is being questioned by Security; and Jarod is in the infirmary with Miss Parker. It's only a matter of time before the press finds out."

Lyle tightened his grip on the phone and, with his free hand, slapped the roof of the car. "Kelley screwed up. Again."

"It appears so." Glancing down the corridors, he dropped his voice in order to avoid being heard and asked, "How do you want me to handle it?"

"The first thing you're going to do is get me Kelley," he growled, facing the building as if he could be seen by the man on the other end of the line. "I don't care how you do it, but you get his sorry ass out here the second he is released from Security. My sister cannot get to him first."

The man took a deep breath. "What about Jarod?"

Lyle smiled sinisterly. "That's the second thing you're going to do. I want to see him."

*********

Margaret stared at her son and repeated, "You want to bring the Centre down."

When he dropped his gaze and lowered himself to the edge of the table, she watched her daughter move to his side. Emily whispered something only Adam could hear and, immediately, Margaret closed her eyes, hoping to collect her thoughts.

Her children were talking about going to war. They wanted to battle the corporation that had torn her family apart decades before and they believed it was the right thing to do. No matter how hard she tried, though, Margaret could not make herself accept that their efforts would result in anything but more pain.

She felt an arm slide around her shoulder and looked up, into Emily's face. The young woman forced a smile that, despite her attempt to do otherwise, betrayed the fact that she, too, was worried.

"It will be all right, Mom. We can do this," she promised, glancing at her brother. "All you have to do is trust him."

"I do trust him," she murmured. "I just don't want to lose him."

"You won't."

Margaret smiled sadly at her daughter then pulled away and moved to stand in front of her son. Adam looked up, timidly. When their eyes met she saw his tears. She had no idea if his emotions were due to his own fear, and doubt; or, if they were a culmination of trying to make her understand his point of view. Suddenly, it didn't matter.

Taking one of his hands in hers, she raised the other to his face and gently cupped his cheek. Then, without a word, she slid her arms around the young man and pulled him to her. With his face buried in her neck and his arms gently wrapped around her waist, she whispered, "You are my son and I love you with all my heart. Please, Adam, don't do this."

He shifted in her hold and tenderly touched his lips to her cheek. When he spoke, his words were almost as soft and ragged as hers had been. "I love you, too, Mom, but, I can't do anything else."

She held him a moment longer, pulling him closer just as the door opened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll come back."

Releasing the young man, Margaret took a deep breath and shook her head. "It's okay, Detective. I was just leaving."

"Mom . . ."

"Adam, we're going in circles. I cannot give you my blessing to do something that could take you away from me."

"Even if it meant giving our family a normal life – a life without the Centre?" he countered. "Wouldn't you like to settle down in one place, have the family over for dinner once a week and have grandchildren playing in your yard?"

"Of course I would, but not if it means losing you, or someone else I love, in the process." She smiled sadly and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'm going home now and I want you to come with me. When your father and Sydney return from the prison, we'll have a better idea of the situation. We can figure out another way – a safer way – together. Please, just come home with me now."

"I . . . I can't." He placed his hand over hers and slid it from his face. "Mom, please, believe me when I tell you that there is no other way. I have to do this."

Margaret nodded, kissed him on the cheek and pulled her hand from his grasp. Turning, she smiled at the man in the doorway and said, "I am trusting you to take care of my son, Detective. Keep him safe. I expect him home tonight, unharmed."

Ryan nodded, shooting an unsure glance at Adam. Having moved from the edge of the table to the chair, the teen looked suddenly lost. The confidence he had displayed was gone, leaving him looking much younger than he had only an hour before.

Emily watched Margaret leave the room then, taking a deep breath went to her brother. She pulled him into a standing position and hugged him fiercely. Before following her mother, Ryan heard her murmur, "It'll be okay. I'll talk to her."

When both women were gone, Adam turned away from the door.

"Are you all right?"

"I need to see my brother."

Ryan hesitated only because the voice was much deeper than normal for the young man. "Jarod doesn't want . . ."

"I don't care! I don't care if he wants to see me or not!" He turned on his heel and though his expression betrayed his frustration, his voice adopted a softer, albeit equally deep, tone. "I need to see him. It's important."

Adam held the detective's gaze for almost a full minute before, defeated, he dropped back into the chair. His hands came to his face, pressed against his eyes then raked through his hair then, taking a deep breath, returned his gaze to the detective.

"I trusted you with information that very few people know," he said softly. "I trusted you because, from the start, you seemed as if you honestly want to help Jarod and my family. Was I wrong?"

"No."

"My mother believes I was," he sighed. "She thinks I've told you too much and that I'm taking an irresponsible risk. She thinks I'm putting myself and Jarod in more danger."

Ryan moved to the chair beside the younger man, but said nothing. He had no idea what had transpired while he was gone but, whatever it was, it had upset Adam immensely. Knowing what he knew, he could understand Margaret's desire to keep her family safe; but, at the same time, he could also understand Adam's need to take charge.

"Jarod was taken from his bedroom, in the middle of the night, when he was about four. Shortly after that, Kyle was taken. You know about Kyle, right?" he asked, looking at the man. When Ryan nodded and said that Miss Parker had told him, Adam took a deep breath and continued softly. "My parents were separated when Dad tried to break into the Centre to rescue my brothers. Mom spent the next twenty odd years on the run with Emily and didn't even know Dad was still alive until last year. At the same time, she found out that Kyle was dead, Jarod was Lyle's captive, and that I -- existed."

Unsure of what to day, Ryan was silent.

"She doesn't want me to go public. She thinks I'm underestimating Lyle and the Centre and that, if they can't get to me, they'll go after Jarod."

"Is that a possibility?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "I suppose it's possible that they may come after you, too. So, if you don't want to . . ."

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Adam forced a smile of gratitude then said, "Maybe she's right. Maybe I am too close to this but I can't see any other way to put an end to the running. That's why I need to talk to Jarod."

"If you think that you're too close to the situation, why would you think he wouldn't be?"

Adam shrugged and took a deep breath. "Mom is angry with me for not discussing my plan with the family before I put it into play. She said that, at the very least, I should include Jarod in the decision because my actions will affect him."

"Well, she does have a point," Ryan conceded.

"I know she does."

"Your mother has had to deal with loss a lot in her life. She's scared. She's afraid of keeping the status quo as much as she is of going through with your plan," he continued. "But, believe it or not, I think she wants the same thing you want – she wants the family to be safe."

"I know."

"So, as great as it is that you want to make her happy, I think it's going to be up to you to consider the end game."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you have to do what you feel is right and then take the necessary precautions. If you decide you want me to forget you told me anything, I can keep my mouth shut," he promised. "But, if you want to move forward, I'll back that decision, too. It's entirely up to you at this point."

"So, if I want to see Jarod tonight, you'll take me?"

He frowned. "Do you honestly think he would see you?"

"Probably not; he thinks that isolating himself from the family is the safest for everyone." Adam sighed and shook his head. "And I can't go to Miss Parker because she's more protective than my mother when it comes to the Centre. I'd be lucky to get her listen to the plan, let alone agree with me."

"What about Jarod's lawyer? She might be able to talk Jarod into seeing you."

"She can't know," he said, his eyes widening as they met the Detectives. "Not yet. You didn't tell her about me, did you?"

Ryan shook his head. "I haven't told anyone."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive," he nodded, curious about the boy's sudden panic. "I promised I wouldn't say anything, and I haven't."

Adam took a deep breath and, as he released it, nodded his thanks.

"Is there something about Cara DeWitt I should know?"

"She doesn't know Jarod has a family," he replied, averting his gaze. "For now, it's best that we keep it that way."

He frowned. "You'll tell me when I need to know, right?"

The boy offered him a quick smile and nodded.

"Okay, so I guess that leaves me," he sighed

"What do you mean?"

"I think it's important that you talk this over with Jarod," he admitted. "So, I'll go to the prison tomorrow. I will do my best to convince him to see you."

The young man looked up expectantly. "You will?"

"I can't promise anything. In case you haven't noticed, your brother is pretty stubborn." Ryan warned, patting the young man on the back. "But I'll do my best. You just have to let it go until tomorrow."

He stared at the Detective. Although he knew the man's reasons for wanting to delay his visit to the prison, he needed to hear him say it. He needed to know everything he knew and how he had gotten his information. Jarod's life might depend on it.

"Why can't you go tonight?"

"Look, it's all right. Jarod is all right," he said, quickly realizing that he might have frightened the teen, "but, the way I understand it, something happened between him and Philip Kelley today. I don't know what it was; the authorities at the prison are investigating."

"If you don't know what happened, how do you know that Jarod is all right?"

"Cara DeWitt got a call while we were at the hospital," he replied, rising from his chair. "She left for the prison about twenty minutes ago."

"Jarod called his lawyer?"

"I honestly don't know who the caller was," he admitted. "But, like I said, I'm sure Jarod is fine because I asked – and she told me he was."

Adam stood and turned away, his hand moving to massage the muscle at the back of his neck. "Miss Parker called Dad and Sydney. Maybe she called the lawyer, too."

"Miss Parker is at the prison?"

The teen nodded and glanced at his watch. "She called to tell my family that Jarod was in trouble. Mom and Emily came looking for me because Dad and Sydney were headed for the prison. They should be there any minute."

"So you knew what happened? Were you testing me?"

He shook his head. "No. All I know is that Jarod was locked up with Dr. Kelley for over three hours and that he may have been drugged. I just needed to know if you knew anything more. Are you sure you don't know who called Miss DeWitt?"

Ryan stared at the boy as he shook his head. "Why is it important?"

"It might not be," he shrugged. "You said you were at the hospital when she got the call. Why were you there?"

"We went to see Jillian."

"I thought you saw her this morning."

"I did," he nodded, his tone tightening, "but, as your brother's lawyer, Miss DeWitt needed to see her, too. Unfortunately, the call came from the prison before she was able."

Adam stared at the man a moment, his brows furrowing. "Do you always accompany defense attorneys when they interview victims? I thought it was standard practice for the interviews to be done separately since, technically, you work for the prosecution."

"There were extenuating circumstances," he replied curtly. "What's with all the questions? I thought you trusted me."

"I'm just curious," Adam replied, crossing his arms to mirror the Detective's stance. "It seems odd that you would go with her; especially since, from what I saw earlier, things between you and Miss DeWitt were pretty tense."

"I just told you that I would help you get in to see Jarod. Now, you're insinuating something – I'm just not sure what it is," he countered. "Why are you suddenly so suspicious?"

"Did I sound suspicious?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I guess I'll have to work on my tone."

"Stop playing games, Adam. If I'm going to help you keep your family safe, then you need to be honest with me."

"I have been more honest with you than with anyone else, Detective. My entire family is vulnerable in ways you cannot imagine right now because of the things I've shared with you. I thought you understood that I expected you to be just as honest with me." He met Ryan's gaze confidently until Lou appeared at the threshold. Sitting at the table, Adam motioned toward the door. "There's someone here to see you."

The man shot a quick glance at his partner and then looked back at the young man who was now staring at the screen of his laptop. Adam looked as if he were immersed in whatever task he had set for himself but Ryan knew enough to know that looks could be deceiving - especially when it came to this particular case.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.

"Take your time."

Turning, he moved to the door then looked back at Jarod's brother. There was a sadness about him that hadn't been their earlier. To Ryan, it seemed to make the resemblance between Adam and Jarod much more obvious.

It had always been an unwritten investigative rule to gather information while sharing very little. It was the way he'd been train to do his job and, until this case, it had always been a successful technique. Now, as he stared at the young man, Ryan could not help but wonder if it was time to try a different approach.

"We'll talk when I get back."

Adam nodded but did not look up from the computer screen.

*********

He held her eyes with his, marveling at how her orbs seemed to widen with each pulse of his hand against her throat. Pressing his mouth to her neck, he slid his hand from her throat to her breast as another muted scream caressed his palm.

"You just need to cooperate a little longer," he cooed. "Cooperate and it will all be over very soon."

Jarod jerked himself awake. The abrupt movement sent a sharp pain through his back and shoulders while his hands pushed at the air - and the image. Though he suppressed the cry of pain, his breaths became more audible as he tried to regain control. Shifting on the bed, he hoped to find a more comfortable position and realized, for the first time, that she was not at his side. He turned his head, in search of the brunette, taking odd comfort in the fact that he was still in the prison infirmary. Instead of finding her in the chair beside the bed, however, he found a guard posted against the inside wall.

Suddenly, the thought that he may have imagined her presence invaded his mind and, alarmed, Jarod pushed himself into a sitting position. The pinch of metal on his palm brought his gaze to the cloth straps and their unfastened buckle. Though his freedom from the restraints was not proof that she had been with him, or that she had told him of their night on the balcony, the Pretender accepted it as a good sign.

"Where is Miss Parker?"

"She went to the visitor's entrance to vouch for two men who are not on your list."

His breaths suddenly came easier. "So, she appointed you my baby sitter?"

The man replied with a half nod. "She said that if you gave me any trouble I shouldn't hesitate to put the restraints back on."

"That sounds like something she would say." Dropping his eyes from the man's face to his badge and back again, he added, "It seems our paths keep crossing today, doesn't it, Officer Nash."

The man shrugged. "Do they?"

"You stepped between me and Owens at breakfast."

"Then you should be thanking me," he guard replied sternly. "John Owens isn't anyone to mess with."

Jarod glared at the man. "You also escorted me to my 'session' with Philip. Should I be thanking you for that, too?"

The muscles in the man's neck and shoulders constricted almost immediately. "I had nothing to do with what happened. After I brought you to the room, I was sent to the laundry to break up a fight. I've been in the main ward of the infirmary with the injured con until about thirty minutes ago."

"Right, so no thanks are necessary."

Jarod saw the man's face darken. He took a menacing step toward the Pretender but, before he could take another, both men were distracted by the opening door. His hands still clenched at his side, he turned, expecting to find that a second correctional officer had entered the room. Instead, the sight of the newcomer made his body relax and his scowl melt into a broad grin.

"Dad."

Though the muscles in his legs, arms, back and shoulders still ached from the affects of the drug, Jarod found that his father's embrace did not increase his discomfort. The instant the Major wrapped his arms around him, the Pretender felt more secure than he had in weeks.

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered.

The Major responded by tightening his hold. Jarod enthusiastically returned the hug, clutching his father with more strength than he thought he'd had for longer than he though he'd ever done before. When he slowly began to pull away, though, he discovered that the older man was not ready to break the physical connection. One hand slid to the Pretender's shoulder while the other tenderly cupped the bruised and swollen face. The concern in his father's eyes caused Jarod to remain still, silently allowing the inspection of his injuries.

"You're trembling and pale . . . ." His hand slipped across Jarod's forehead and pushed back the locks of hair, "and you're perspiring. Jarod, what did he do to you?"

"It doesn't matter," he sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "I promise I will be fine in a few hours."

"But you are not fine now," the Major countered firmly. "Tell me what happened, Jarod. I want to know what he did to you."

"He wanted me to run a simulation," he replied hesitantly. "When I refused, he used the drug to punish me. He'd used it before and knew it would make me … submissive."

Taking a deep breath, Jarod closed his eyes, hoping to alleviate the headache that was beginning to intensify. He felt his father slide a hand to his shoulder and, though he knew the touch was a gesture of support, his heart begin to race. A moment later, was stricken with images of Philip Kelley standing over him, smiling and touching him.

"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 . . . 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."

Startled, he snapped his eyes open and stared, breathlessly, at the man beside him. After a few moments, his mind was able to accept that the eyes staring back were not those of Philip Kelley but Jarod's heart and lungs refused to decelerate.

"Jarod, what's wrong?"

Trying to catch his breath, Jarod doubled over. Bringing his knees up, he brought his chin to his chest, curled his hands into fists and tucked them beneath his legs. "I'm sorry. I don't . . . . I can't . . . I want to talk about something else right now, Dad. Please."

When the Major nodded and dropped his hand from Jarod's shoulder to the bed, Jarod reached for it, gripping tightly for a few moments before looking up. He locked his gaze on his father's and straightened up as his breaths began to regulate. He saw the older man's worry and forced a smile but did not say a word.

"Sydney is in the hall," the Major offered, when Jarod fell back against the pillows in relief. "He wanted to give us time alone but I know he is anxious to see you. I'll get him."

"No." Increasing his grip on the hand he held, Jarod reached out with the other as the man started to stand. When his father looked at him, he added, softly, "Not yet. I mean, I want to see Sydney, too, but … in a few minutes, okay?"

"We can wait as long as you want, Jarod." Major Charles shot him a quick grin and lowered himself back to the seat. "This is the first time I've been able to talk to you since . . ."

When the man's voice trailed off, the Pretender finished, "Since you called to tell me and Emily that Adam had been kidnapped."

The Major nodded, sadly. "It seems so long ago; yet it's only been a little over a week. So much has happened."

"But Adam is all right, isn't he?" Jarod asked. "Lyle hasn't come after any of you, again?"

"No, Son. Everyone is fine, except for worrying about you," he smiled.

"I'll be okay."

"I know you have an attorney, Son," the man continued, "but she was hired by Kelley and that means she was really hired by Lyle so . . ."

"So, chances are, she has a connection to the Centre."

He nodded. "Broots and your brother have been doing multiple of background checks. So far, she's clean but they're still looking – we don't want what happened with Philip Kelley to happen with her. In the meantime, everyone is working very hard to prove your innocence and . . ."

"What if I'm not?" he asked in a small voice. "What if . . . what if I'm not innocent?"

"Of course you're innocent. You did not murder those women, Jarod."

"I don't know which of my memories are true, which are altered, and which are completely fictitious, Dad." When his father's eyes widened, he added, "I've been having dreams that indicate I might be . . . responsible. I do not want to believe it – but, what if it's true? What if the dreams are memories?"

"No. Listen to me, Jarod. That man wreaked havoc with your mind. We trusted him to help you and, instead, he exploited you in more ways than one." Tightening his grip on his son's hand when Jarod looked away, the Major sat on the edge of the bed. "If you cannot trust yourself, then trust me. We will get to the truth, Jarod, and, we will prove you didn't do any of this. I promise you."

The Pretender smiled tentatively. "Parker said almost the exact same thing to me."

"Of course she did," he agreed brusquely. "She's a damn smart woman – a little high strung at times – but probably one of the smartest people I know."

Jarod chuckled at the assessment, a sincere smile gracing his face as he agreed with the assessment of his childhood friend. He looked at his father and, though the smile faded from his lips, it was still visible in his eyes. "I'm glad you're here, Dad. I . . . I've missed you. I've missed all of you."

"Son, we have missed you, too," he replied softly.

"I know, and I know that you stayed away because I didn't give you a choice," he said quietly.

"Jarod, we had a choice; we just made the wrong one. We should never have let you isolate yourself."

"No. You stayed away because I asked you to," he admitted apologetically. "I believed it would keep you safe. I still believe it. You shouldn't be here. I . . . I should have told her to call you back. I should have insisted that you stay where you were."

"No."

"I was being selfish. Philip told me things that I know in my heart are lies, but I couldn't prove it to myself because I have no idea how much of what I remember about you and me is real," he admitted in a shaky voice. "So, when Parker told me she'd called you and that you were on your way – I … I just wanted a new memory, one that Philip would never get the chance to taint."

The Major barely heard the words because the look on his son's face, as he spoke, was so overpoweringly heart wrenching. Before his eyes, Jarod transformed from a self-assured, intelligent man to a child who was equally afraid of being abandoned as he was of being hurt.

"Jarod . . ."

"Iam glad you came, Dad," he insisted, looking the man in the eye, "but I should have stopped you. I put you and everyone I love at risk for no reason other than I needed …. I wanted to see you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you come. I . . ."

"Jarod, stop!" the Major growled, taking his son by the shoulders. When he felt the younger man wince, he immediately, softened his hold. "I am your father. You should never apologize for wanting to see me. Is that clear? You did exactly what I have been waiting and praying you would do – you reached out to me."

"But I was wrong," he insisted unhappily. "If the Centre or Lyle . . ."

"I don't give a damn about Lyle or the Centre, or what they might do to me," he spat. "I never have. But you are my son. You asked me to stay away and, though it killed me, I honored your wishes, thinking that, in some odd way, I was helping you. Well, I was wrong, Son, and I will never forgive myself for what they have done to you."

"Dad, there was nothing you could do. What happened to me was not your fault but you can't come here again," he murmured, ignoring the fact that his eyes were blurring with unshed tears. Blinking them away, he took a deep breath and whispered, "It's not safe for you."

"No, Jarod, I made a horrible mistake by letting you isolate yourself. I will not abandon you." Moving higher on the bed, he slid his arm across his son's back and pulled the younger man toward him. When Jarod was resting against his chest, the Major closed his arms around him and promised, "I won't do it, Jarod. I can't do it. I swear to you, I will not let anyone – not even you – keep us apart again."

*********

"It's me. Where is he?"

"He's still inside," the man responded. "Do you want me to take him when he comes out?"

"No. Just keep him in your sights. Follow him but make sure he doesn't see you."

"No one ever sees me, Mr. Lyle."

"You don't know him," Lyle spat. "Do not underestimate him."

"All right," the man sighed. "So, you just want me to follow him."

"Yes," Lyle replied then, with a smile, added, "Follow him and take pictures of him and whoever he might be with. I want them dated and timed when you send them to me."

"You're the boss."

Lyle disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. Visiting hours would be over in an hour. If he knew his sister, she would do her best to distract him so that Sydney and Major Charles could leave without interference. He was about to make life easy for her, if not a bit confusing.

Opening the passenger door of the car, he slid inside.

"Let's go."

Willie dropped his newspaper and used the rear view mirror to look at him before starting the engine. "Where to?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, staring at the building. "We're just putting some space between us and my sister for now. We'll be coming back in an hour."

Willie nodded but didn't ask questions, and Lyle didn't offer an explanation. Instead, he turned to watch the woman he knew to be Cara DeWitt exit her vehicle and start toward the main building. As much as he would have enjoyed a ringside seat, inside, when Jarod's lawyer came face to face with Jarod's father for the first time, he decided it was best to move on.

Besides, he could get the details from Jarod, when they met later.

TBC

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