Mindgames – Part 2
by Pangur Bàn
Rating
(PG, PG13, R) : PG13
Spoilers : probably
Disclaimer: Steven Long Mitchell & Craig W. Van Sickle created the characters of the television series "The Pretender." This fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes (chiefly my own, admittedly.) No profit is being made here. No infringement is intended.
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They talked long into the night, discussing what Grace had seen in Jarod's mind. The Centre was getting closer to Jarod again, with Jarod's clues and taunting, of course. Grace had picked up on this, thus had wanted to keep her gun close. She would no more let herself be taken in again than would Jarod.
They agreed that they needed to work together to bring the Centre down, but for the time being, had to keep stringing them along, if there were any hope of finding Jarod's parents and sister.
"What about your family, Grace? Don't we want to find them, too?"
Pain flashed across her eyes. "They're dead," she said simply.
Jarod leaned in close. He touched her hand in sympathy. "I'm very sorry, Grace." He said no more, but questioned with his eyes.
Grace took a deep breath. "It took me years to get enough information to figure out who I was. I had the help of some friends who knew how to search the Internet for public records, and were helping me research child abductions. When I found the information I was looking for, I misunderstood it at first." Her voice faltered slightly, then she continued.
"Jarod, my family died in a fire the night I was taken." Jarod closed his eyes, his lips a tight line. She continued. "My parents. Three brothers. Two sisters. The house burned to the ground. They pulled eight bodies out of the rubble the following morning."
He opened his eyes and searched her face. "Eight bodies?" he said, his voice deep.
She nodded, seeing his comprehension. "That's what I had misunderstood. I thought I was another missing child. It was only after I began to explore the neighborhood, planning to contact the people I thought were my parents, that I found out about the rest of this. Jarod, they kidnapped me, and put another little girl to die in my place. So no one would miss me." Her face was wracked with pain and guilt.
"My God." Jarod was appalled anew at the Centre's endless capacity for evil. "How did you figure it out?"
Grace snorted. "Would you believe, it was thanks to Raines and my 'gift'? I was talking to a waitress in a diner in the neighborhood where the other girl was abducted. Waiting for the parents to come home, I was just fishing for a little more information. The waitress knew the story of the kidnapping, and was a talker. Four cups of coffee later, I was getting ready to leave, when she mentions the fire. She starts talking about 'that other poor family,' 'two tragedies in one night,' and suddenly I see her thinking – 'why, this woman looks just like the mother's family.' The image she brought to mind was so striking, so much like me, that I spilled my coffee. I got out of there and found the library. I found the story in the news archives, and felt I was on the right track. The more I read, the more certain I became. I stayed in town for weeks until I finally worked up the courage to visit the parents of the other girl, without revealing who I was. After I met the lady, I knew the truth. I was not her child. Her daughter had died that night. I was the child no one knew to miss."
"Bastards." His single word was barely a whisper, and Grace didn't take notice.
"I visited the gravesites, then left town. I never went back, never told anyone what I had found out. Not even Jon – he only knows I was abducted. Until now, I've never admitted who I am to anyone else."
"No wonder you were depressed." Jarod couldn't imagine how it would feel, after years of searching for his identity and his family, to have believed you finally found it all, then have it all destroyed in front of you. He shivered involuntarily. At least he knew his family was still out there, alive, if in danger. He still had a chance to help them, and to be reunited with them. If they were indeed his family... He shuddered again, and put that thought away.
They sat in quietly for a few minutes, each in their own thought. Grace was surprised when the silence was shattered by Jarod's next words.
"I need to see Sydney."
"Sydney?" She knew who Sydney was, of course. Jarod nodded grimly. "I have to get to him."
"You can't go back there."
"I'll have to get him away from the Centre. Somewhere safe, without making them suspicious."
"What do we do?" she asked. Jarod was grateful at the way she included herself without a second thought. The rest of the night, what little there was of it, passed as they discussed options and made plans. Together they sanitized her apartment, making sure there was no clue to her real identity that might be found by a sweeper team, if the Centre should investigate her. Jarod left her to get a few hours' sleep while he returned to his own place. He worked at a frantic pace, inventing computer records, planting clues that would bring the Centre to Grace. This aspect of the plan gave them both qualms – everything depended on Grace being just another one of Jarod's good deeds as far as the Centre was concerned. Lastly, he packed up the things he would take with him, and glanced around his small flat. All was in place for Sydney and Miss Parker to find.
Now all that was left was to get Grace into place to wait for the Centre. He drove to her apartment in the cheap used car he had picked up the previous morning to replace his damaged one. She was awake and ready for him, two small bags packed. One Jarod would take with him; the other came with her into the hospital. She admitted herself, claiming symptoms that indicated a more serious concussion than had been at first diagnosed. Jarod had coached her on what to say and do, and it worked like a charm. They immediately got her to a private room and settled her in. As soon as she was alone, Jarod slipped in.
"They took the bait. They're on their way. I have my apartment and yours under electronic surveillance – we'll know as soon as they get there."
"Great. Just the people I was hoping would visit," she said wryly.
"Sydney, Miss Parker, Broots, and a few sweepers." She made a face, and he smiled. He saw right through the humor, though, and said gently, "Don't worry. They won't know who you are, they'll just want to ask their questions and then get out of your life again. I'll be nearby the whole time."
She closed her eyes and nodded. "I'm fine." They talked quietly for a little while. Jarod had to duck out of sight twice as hospital personnel came in and out. Finally she shooed him out of the room. She closed her eyes and it seemed like no time at all had passed when he was shaking her gently. She looked up at him now dressed in hospital scrubs – blending in with the scenery, no doubt.
"They're on their way to the hospital. They should be here in a few minutes."
"What time is it?" she asked, turning her head to look at the clock. She was amazed at the vertigo that struck her like a sledgehammer. "Six-twenty," Jarod told her. She noticed a meal tray had been left on her table while she slept. Jarod was eyeing the jello. "You going to eat that?" he asked hopefully.
"Help yourself," she offered. Jarod grabbed up the plastic cup of jello happily. He touched her hand.
"Thanks. And don't worry. I'll be close."
"You're in more danger from that hospital jello than I am from the Centre," she quipped. Jarod smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and slipped out of her room.
Ten minutes later she heard a quick knock on the door as Jarod passed by, to let her know that they were here. Grace settled into her bed, purposely whipping her head from side to side. She had an idea of her own.
A strident knock on the door made her wince. The door was opened before she could answer, and Miss Parker marched into the room, followed by Broots and Sydney. "Ms. Hanover? We have a few questions for you."
Grace looked at her stupidly, and made her wait for a minute. Parker tried again. "Ms. Hanover?"
"Who are you?" Grace said thickly.
"Miss Parker, please," Sydney interrupted. Parker glared at him, but let him try. "Ms. Hanover, my name is Sydney. How are you feeling?"
Grace turned her head to look at Sydney on the other side of the bed. She heard Parker say "This isn't a social call, Freud."
Sydney glanced up at her, then returned his eyes to the woman in the hospital bed. "We heard you were in an accident the other day. Do you remember the accident?"
Grace threw him a bone, mostly to irritate Miss Parker. "I was hit by a car," she slurred.
"That's right," Sydney encouraged. "You've a concussion."
"My head," Grace muttered.
"Ms. Hanover, we think that a friend of ours may have been in the car that hit you. The police say he brought you into the hospital that night, then checked you out. Do you remember?"
"Headache." Grace was enjoying this more than she thought she would. These people posed her no immediate threat, and she was especially enjoying jerking Miss Parker's chain a bit.
"Can you remember the man?" Sydney repeated. Grace closed her eyes and feigned exhaustion. Outside her room, she heard a code blue announced and heard feet running past her door.
"Brought me home. Dropped me off. No. Stayed a while. Kept waking me up."
"Was this the man?" Sydney pulled a photograph of Jarod from his suit jacket under his overcoat. Grace kept her eyes closed and added, "For my head. Waking me up."
"Is this the man?" he asked again.
"Oh, for God's sake," Parker said, exasperated. She grabbed the photo from his hand and roughly turned Grace's head back to her side of the bed. "Miss Parker!" both men protested. She ignored them and demanded, "Open your eyes, Sleeping Beauty! Look! Is this the man who ran you down?"
Grace opened her eyes wide, concentrating on the dizziness and nausea that had been her constant companions for more than two days, and on the cold soup she had forced down before her three visitors arrived. It took very little effort on her part to bring that soup back up and over the bed rail. Not a direct hit, but she noticed the splatter factor claimed two expensive shoes as casualties, and laid her head back on the pillow.
"Oh, gross!" Broots exclaimed. Any urge he had to laugh was quelled by the withering glare Parker somehow managed to give them both simultaneously. She turned and left the room. Broots looked at Sydney and cracked wise, "Maybe you ought to get a better picture of Jarod."
"See if you can get a nurse in here," Sydney told Broots. Broots left the room and Sydney reached for a washcloth. He was worried about the danger of her choking, and spoke to her gently. "I'm going to help you turn on your side," he said, slowly turning her toward him at the shoulder and hip.
Grace opened her eyes and looked directly at him. He was surprised to see her eyes clear and purposeful, as was her voice when she spoke.
"Sydney, Jarod needs to see you."
Sydney blinked. "Where is he?"
"Take this." From under the blanket, she handed him an airline ticket in its folder. "Check your email – there'll be an excuse for you to stay in town overnight. Be at O'Hare tomorrow. You'll be given further instructions on the plane."
"Is he all right?" Sydney began, but stopped as Broots returned. The ticket was slipped, unnoticed, into an inner pocket in the overcoat.
"The nurses are all busy with a code blue," Broots reported. Sydney nodded, and dipped the washcloth in the jug of water on Grace's bedside table. He wiped Grace's forehead carefully.
Miss Parker stormed back in. She stopped short at the sight of Sydney helping the moron who had ruined her shoes. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked disbelievingly.
"We can't just leave her like this," Sydney said, continuing his ministrations. "The nurses are all busy," Broots supplied, earning yet another wrathful stare. "Um, a code blue, you know..." Broots trailed off as she advanced on him. Parker changed her mind about whatever bodily harm she was contemplating, and ignored him in favor of the psychologist.
"Does she know where Jarod went?" Parker demanded evenly, dangerously.
"Jarod left her yesterday morning, while she was feeling better. He told her he had pressing business, but would call her in a few days," Sydney lied smoothly. He was the only one to see the tiny twitch at one corner of Grace's mouth. Grace was still on her side, her back to Parker and Broots, and she closed one eye in a wink for Sydney. He put a hand to his mouth to cover a twitch of his own.
"We're out of here," Miss Parker declared. She turned, and spoke over her shoulder. "You coming, Florence Nightingale?"
Sydney put the washcloth down. "Ms. Hanover, do you think you'll be all right until the nurse gets here?"
"Fine," she said weakly.
"Make sure you stay on your side," he instructed. "Is there anything you want?"
"Come ON, Sydney," Parker exploded. Broots was already at the door.
Sydney nodded at Miss Parker. "Good bye, Ms. Hanover. Thank you for your help. I hope you feel better soon." He was amused to see Parker throw up her hands and practically plow through Broots on her way out. He touched Grace's hand lightly, and followed his companions.
In the corridor, Parker turned to face Sydney. "What the hell was all that about?"
Unflappable, Sydney couldn't resist tweaking her just a bit. "Concussion victims often experience severe vertigo and violent nausea. Any sudden movement, such as turning one's head, can trigger very – unpleasant – reactions. My concern is that she should not lose consciousness and choke."
"Fine. Now what? Get you a red- and white-striped apron?"
"I suggest we check in with the Centre, arrange for surveillance on Jarod's apartment, and get some dinner. Chicago has some fine restaurants. Any preferences, Broots?"
"Oh, I'm happy with whatever comes up," Broots replied, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Miss Parker looked from one of them to the other. She opened her mouth to let them have it, but they had already started down the hall. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose before following them.
Watching from a nearby room, Jarod made sure the elevator doors had closed behind the trio before slipping back into Grace's room. He was assaulted by the sick odor. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly.
"Dandy. Had a small accident. On Miss Parker's shoes, unfortunately." Grace was pleased with her little improvisation.
Jarod had to laugh, in spite of himself. "Oh, my. I don't imagine she was pleased."
"You must be psychic," Grace chuckled.
"Did Sydney get the message?"
"Yeah. He covered well – I think he'll come."
"Good." Jarod turned his concern to Grace. "What can I do to help you now?"
"You can make your flight in this evening, and be waiting for us. I'll get him there, Jarod."
"What about you, tonight?"
"I'll be fine. The nurse will be in in a minute. You'd better get moving. Remember to alter the hospital records tomorrow." They were anticipating Centre surveillance, and wanted to give the appearance of Grace's continued hospitalization when in fact she would be leaving the next day.
"I'll remember. You're sure you'll be all right?"
"I'm sure, so long as I stay away from the hospital food," Grace said, grimacing.
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