Mindgames – Part 10
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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Angelo and Tim were in agreement about one thing: it was a Catch-22. In order to retrieve the files and DSA's, they had to personally return to the Centre. In order to return to the Centre safely, they needed what was in those files. Over the course of a short week, the paradox became an obsession, and grew to be a point of contention between them.
Tim wanted to at least consider it. Angelo, contrarily, was adamant. He would not let Timmy return. While he felt capable of dealing with the Centre, he was staunchly opposed to Timmy's coming anywhere near the place. As Tim began to emerge more and more fully, Angelo struggled in a desperate attempt to protect his charge as he always had; he even began referring to him as "Timmy" once again.
Jarod and Grace saw the signs of this struggle, and misinterpreted it as Angelo battling for survival. Helpless to do anything but watch the process, they longed for Sydney's guidance. Jarod spent endless hours on the Internet, delving into often-contradictory sources about dissociative identity disorders. He felt uncharacteristically and infuriatingly powerless to do anything for either Tim or Angelo.
Grace was afraid to reach out to them. She constantly reminded herself of the conversation she and Sydney had in the backseat of the Expedition the night before he died. Please, she prayed, don't let me hurt either one of them. But in her heart, she was afraid she was watching Angelo disappear.
*** *** *** *** ***
Angelo and Tim were becoming increasingly agitated. Jarod and Grace saw the mounting frustration, culminating one afternoon in a tantrum that was just shy of rage. Jarod tried to restrain Angelo and was summarily dumped backwards as Angelo threw him off. Whirling around, he flung an arm out and put a hand through his bedroom window. Glass flew out in shards and blood ran.
This took the wind out of his sails. Angelo stood and looked at the blood dripping down his wrist to his elbow. Tears welled as he looked from it to Grace. "Red," he moaned pitifully. Grace grabbed the nearest available thing, a tee shirt off Angelo's bed. Wrapping his hand in it, she led him gently but quickly to the bathroom. Jarod followed and stood nearby, crowding the small space. Grace washed his hand and they examined the wound. Thankfully, the damage was minor and superficial.
"You won't need stitches, Angelo," he reassured him. Jarod looked at Grace. "His tetanus should be okay, too. The Centre would have made sure he's current on all his vaccinations."
"Thank God," she said, smiling at Angelo. "Reach me down the kit, will you, Jarod?" The well-stocked first aid kit had been Sydney's contribution; he had foreseen an extended stay here and had obtained everything from band-aids to antibiotics. Together they cleaned the cuts and applied antiseptic. Angelo sniffed and flinched, but was cooperative.
The three went back into the living room. Angelo sat on the arm of the couch, examining his bandaged hand and keeping an eye on his friends across the room. The cold air poured into the cabin from Angelo's room. "I'll find some boards to fix that," Jarod said. He looked at Angelo. From extreme agitation to utter calm – the transformation was unsettling. "Grace," he said, "do you think he would talk to you?"
She looked at Angelo for a long moment. "I think," she measured her words, "that we might need to talk – and...more."
Jarod understood. "I'll leave the two of you alone for a while."
"Don't go too far," Grace said quickly. Jarod nodded.
*** *** *** *** ***
They heard Jarod pounding outside as he fixed a piece of plywood across the broken window space. He worked quickly, wanting to get back inside to be close if needed.
Grace approached Angelo, watching his reactions closely. "Angelo, how are you feeling?" she asked. He held out his bandaged hand. She took it gently. "Does it hurt?" He smiled and shrugged. His smile faded as she looked at him carefully.
"Angelo, you were pretty upset earlier." She paused. Take this slowly, she reminded herself. She gave him time to absorb what she said, then continued. "When I'm upset, sometimes I don't want to talk to anyone about it. But sometimes it helps." She was surprised to see him searching her eyes intently. "Do you want to talk to me about how you're feeling?" Angelo shook his head, keeping his eyes on her. Her heart sank a little. They needed to draw him out, somehow, but...
He suddenly reached across the short distance between them with his good hand and put his palm on her forehead, his fingers atop her head. "Feel," he said. The abruptness of the gesture startled her, but she held still. He would not intentionally hurt her, she knew. "Feel," he said again, urging her to understand.
How much did he understand about her abilities? As far as she knew, none of them had ever discussed it with him. Of course, he was particularly gifted in his own empathic skills. But could he intuit that she, too, had a special sense?
Floundering for a foothold, she thought, Jon, Sydney, I need you. What do I do?
"Sad. Afraid," Angelo said. "Friends gone. Sad," he repeated for emphasis.
He knows, she thought, at least he feels. He does instinctively what Jon was teaching me to do – to "brush-by," get an impression, and figure out the rest of the picture.
"I want to try to help," she said. "Do you want that?"
He nodded, his face screwing into a half-smile of agreement.
"Listen, Angelo – do you understand that I don't 'feel' things quite the same way you do?" He gave her no signal that he did or did not. She tried again. "You feel the way other people are feeling. That's how you do it. I'm not as good as that as you are. I've only started to learn how." Unsure if this was making sense to him, she felt no choice but to plow ahead. "I learned another way first – to see other people's thoughts. You feel what they're feeling – I think what they think. Do you get what I'm saying?"
He once again reached out for her hand. "Feel you," he said patiently. "I know, you feel me," she said. On a hunch, she summoned all the fondness she felt for the troubled young man, concentrating on her feelings of affection and friendship for both Angelo and Tim. It was a good move. Angelo responded in kind. "Friend," he sighed. She felt his happiness and satisfaction. Her next thoughts were of security. "Safe," he responded. "Trust. Friend trust. Friend help."
Jarod let himself quietly through the door. He caught Grace's eye, nodded, and moved swiftly into the kitchen. He stationed himself at the kitchen table, trying to be unobtrusive yet nearby, just in case.
"Angelo, do you want to tell me why you have been upset?" Angelo dropped his eyes to his lap, glancing up at her briefly, then nodding at his knees. Grace gathered herself – and reached for Angelo's mind.
Jarod was alarmed at seeing Grace's reaction. Her eyes flew open wide and she gasped deeply. He leapt from his chair and flew across the room, calling her name. Angelo was frightened both by the extreme confusion he felt in Grace and the fear emanating from Jarod. Angelo backed away from Grace until he felt the wall behind him.
"Grace! Grace!" Jarod had her by the arms, then let her go, afraid of physical contact with her. He fought for her attention. "Come back to me, Grace. Come back to me!"
With agonizing slowness, she focused on his eyes. She sluggishly reached out a hand and braced herself on Jarod's shoulder. "I'm all right," she managed. She looked past Jarod to Angelo, who had slid down along the wall until he was hunched on the floor, his hands to his mouth. She made to rise and Jarod tried to overrule her. "Just take it easy," he said.
Grace shook her head. "I'm okay, Jarod. Really." Her focus returned to Angelo. She moved toward him and squatted down.
"Afraid," said Angelo, hardly audible. She shook her head slowly. "I'm not afraid, Angelo."
"Well, I am," said Jarod, hovering nearby.
Grace took Angelo's face in her hands. "Angelo, I'm all right. You didn't hurt me. I tried to feel you the way you feel me. There was just so much to feel at once, that I was a little – overwhelmed. But we're both okay, aren't we?" She smiled.
Slowly, Angelo met her eyes. She stood and held out a hand to him, helping him to his feet. She extended her other hand to Jarod.
"We're all okay here. No one got hurt, just a little scared. Maybe we should talk a little before we try that again, huh?" She knew by the way Jarod had reacted, afraid to touch her that he was terrified that she would be overtaken as she was before. And now with both Jon and Sydney dead, he had no idea how to help her if that happened.
All three sat on the couch. "First of all, Jarod, it wasn't like before. Angelo didn't flood me with his thoughts. It was more like... I don't know how to describe it. Kind of like being in a kaleidoscope, I guess is the best way to put it. There's so much to sort out from what I felt in Angelo's mind." She turned to look at Angelo. "What would have been a simple impression from most other people was very complex in you, Angelo. It was beautiful in its way. Colorful, iterating and reiterating. Reflecting so many things, like looking into a faceted jewel." She looked back to Jarod, unsure how to continue.
Jarod looked at her closely, still unable to put his fear to rest. It was Angelo who stepped in.
"Confused. Not scared." He looked meaningfully at Grace, then back to Jarod, to whom he was speaking. "Not hurt," he added helpfully.
Finally Jarod relaxed a little. "I don't think you should try that again for a while," he said. "Maybe take some time to sort it all out, like you said."
Grace agreed, tentatively. "I'll need some help to do that. Think you guys can handle the job? I'll need to do a lot of talking, and ask a bunch of questions. Will that be all right?" Each nodded.
Jarod added, "What about Tim, Angelo? Will he help?"
"I'll help," Tim answered.
*** *** *** *** ***
In their eagerness to help Grace, Tim and Angelo cooperated with each other in answering her questions and explaining images. As the day wore on, Angelo retreated further and further, allowing Tim to do most of the talking.
One point, though, caused a brief return to turmoil as Grace broached the subject.
"I felt something a little – odd, I guess. I'm not sure if I'm interpreting it correctly. Tim, I had the impression that you were thinking about the Centre. About being in the Centre." Tim nodded convulsively, glancing around as if he was expecting someone to sneak up on him.
"Why is that odd?" Jarod asked. "We already know that Tim was there for much of Angelo's experiences."
Grace looked at Tim. "But Angelo wasn't in this image, was he? Just Tim."
Tim's face screwed up with internal conflict. Angelo emerged, violently and briefly. "No!" he shouted. "No! Timmy not go back. Hurt!"
Tim fought his way back to dominance. "Quiet! Go away! I want to tell them."
Angelo's internal reply was almost audible to the others. All that escaped was a slight whine as the two personalities spoke in rapid imagery. Tim stayed in control, however, and forced Angelo to wait for him.
Tim looked diligently at Jarod and Grace. "Angelo and I are disagreeing about this. I want to go back to the Centre; Angelo doesn't want me to."
"Back to the Centre? Why?" Jarod was amazed. Grace was frightened, immediately flashing back to her own short-lived first attempt to leave. Was Tim now feeling what she had all those years ago? Unable to cope with life outside his prison?
"There are things you need there. Files. Discs. I can get them for you."
"Tim, no. We'll get them somehow. You don't have to go back there," he assured Tim.
"You can't. They're hidden. Angelo hid many things, all over. I know how to find them; you do not."
"You can tell me. Draw me a map. But you don't have to go back."
Tim smiled indulgently. "Angelo and I used to get in and out undetected all the time."
"The Centre is on high security alert since they found..." Jarod paused, looking at Grace and swallowing.
"What is it?" Grace asked.
Jarod's voice dropped a tone. "Since they found out Jon was with Sydney and me, when they killed him." Jarod had discovered this fact a week earlier. "They've pulled out all the stops. There's no way anyone could get in and out now." They had been extremely lucky when they had gotten Angelo out, Jarod now knew. He shivered at the thought of what might have happened.
"How long will they be at this level of security?" Grace wondered. Maybe if they just bided their time...
"I don't know. I haven't seen a precedent for this kind of activity there. It could be for just a few months, or..." Jarod paused. "It could be new standard operating procedure."
They were silent for a moment. Tim spoke first. "I could walk back in like Grace did, pretending I didn't like being away..."
"No!" the others spoke simultaneously.
Tim's tone was reasonable. "Why not?"
"Well, because... because they wouldn't believe you," Jarod said. "They'd hurt you again. Listen, Tim – they know you left with Sydney and I. They have it on surveillance – I've seen the records. They're not going to trust you."
"I don't need them to trust me. They need my talents – they'll take me back."
Grace spoke up. "Tim – they'll use you to try to bring Jarod back. They'll let him know that they will hurt you if he doesn't return." Grace continued as gently as she could. "Tim – Angelo is more useful to them as bait, as a hostage. They won't hesitate to use you as such."
Tim looked at Jarod. Jarod's eyes pleaded with Tim. "Don't come back," Tim said to him.
"I'd have to," Jarod said. "If you go back, I go back with you."
"No one is going back," Grace said. They looked at her, a little taken aback at the uncharacteristic tone of high-pitched urgency. If they didn't know her better, they'd have thought she was verging on hysteria.
"If they see any one of us walking in there, we'll never get out again – alive," Jarod said darkly.
The rest of the conversation went nowhere. When they finally rose to make dinner, Grace's thoughts kept returning to something Jarod had said. "If they see any of us walking in there... If they see any of us walking in there... see any of us..." Now why was that sticking in her head so stubbornly? Jarod was one hundred percent certain there was no way in that was undetectable – even the air shaft openings were under surveillance. That little fact had given Tim pause.
*** *** *** *** ***
"...stop analyzing. This isn't so much of an analytical process as a creative one. Trust yourself. Create the rest..."
Jon's words echoed in her head as she awoke, tears still spilling down her cheeks. She listened to the night's sounds, striving to recapture his voice against the backdrop of wind.
Nothing. Drawing a shaky breath, she sighed. The LED of the alarm clock at bedside read 2:11. Grace sat up and hung her legs over the side of the bed. The thin rug was no protection against the cold of the Idaho night. She pulled on a pair of socks and a sweater and got up. She wanted no more of sleeping, and dreaming, tonight.
Opening her bedroom door softly, she padded down the hall. The cabin was quiet; not even any snoring tonight. She paused at the door to Sydney's bedroom. Placing her palm on the wooden surface, she felt her heart ache with the emptiness. Almost a month had passed, but the pain at times was still as raw as during those first days. She decided not to enter.
Snagging two afghans as she passed by the couch, Grace tucked her feet underneath herself in the armchair. Her eyes were wide open, but voices echoed again as in her dreams.
"... then create the rest... are you afraid you might be tempted to misuse them?... create the rest..."
"I miss you both so much," she murmured. Unaware of the tears tracing fresh paths down her face, she listened again. "...just get an impression, then create the rest... if they see any one of us... create the rest... see any one of us... create an impression... I could walk back in like Grace did... are you afraid?..."
Her eyes closed and she was eight years old again, hiding in the Centre sub-levels, waiting to be discovered. She knew Dr. Raines would be along shortly. She was hiding, not from him but from the rest of the world. Hugging her small frame tightly, she hummed frantically, under her breath. Hurry, hurry. Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day. Rain, rain, go away... She sensed the doctor nearby, but he was not coming her way. Raines, Raines, come this way, she urged him in singsong thought...
Her head jerked as she awoke with a violent start. Jarod was standing by the woodstove with a stick of wood in one hand, watching her. "Did I wake you?" he asked.
"What time...?" She looked around; it was still completely dark outside.
"Just about five," he said. Have you been out here all night?"
She shook her head. "Just a little while."
In the dim light of the lamp he had lit, Jarod finished feeding the stove and crossed the cold floor, sitting opposite her on the couch. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes. "Why don't you go back to bed? You look like you could use some more sleep," he said, a little tactlessly.
"No, I think I'll make some tea." She made no move to get up.
"Nightmares?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Starring the original bogeyman himself. Raines." Jarod pretended to shiver. It brought a laugh.
"I was dreaming about going back to the Centre, when I was small. I was hiding, waiting for Raines to find me. I remember thinking..." she trailed off.
"Thinking what?" Jarod asked.
She held up a hand, shush, give me a moment. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, but the germ of an idea was forming, just out of reach.
"What were we saying last night? When we were talking about going back to the Centre?"
"We were talking about not going back to the Centre," Jarod insisted.
"I know – but what were we saying? Something about them not seeing us..."
Jarod recalled his words. "I said that if they saw any one of us, that we'd never get out again."
Grace latched on to that. Any one of us... saw any one of us... Damn! She was almost there, she felt... She looked at Jarod. "Can you recall the whole conversation, word for word?" she asked with quiet urgency.
He didn't understand why she wanted to hear it again, but he complied. She closed her eyes as he narrated, picturing them all sitting there only hours before. This time, though, there was none of the defensive tension, but rather she sought words and phrases like puzzle pieces. Something had to fall into place...
Click! "Wait– say that again," she directed.
Jarod looked at her. "Tim said, "I could walk back in like Grace did, pretending I didn't like being away..."
She held up her hand to silence him. Jarod was edgy, not understanding her line of thought, but nervously uneasy that it had something to do with a return to the Centre.
When she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate. "We need to get those records out of there, right?"
Jarod definitely did not like the way this was going. "Grace..."
"Just talk to me. Right?" she repeated.
"Right..." he drew out the word like a question.
"And we need to not be seen by them, right?"
"Their security..."
Grace stopped him with a glare. He acquiesced, "Okay, we need to not be seen by them, but..."
She overrode him. "I know. We're not invisible. But Jarod, I walked out of there once before, remember?"
Jarod blinked at her. He remembered her account of her escape from the Centre. Click! In a flash, he understood where she was going with this. Could she really be thinking she could do it again?
Grace gave him time to catch up with her thought process. It didn't take long – she watched the expressions roll rapidly over his face: confusion, thought, understanding, and finally incredulity.
"No. Absolutely not. You can't be seriously thinking that."
"Thinking what?" she asked, wickedly enjoying his discomfort. The thought that they might finally be able to do something, to move against the Centre, was lifting her spirits.
"That... that you could possibly walk in and out of there again."
"It might be possible."
"Grace, just stop it. We'll find another way."
"Do me a favor – hand me that paper and pen, okay?" she asked.
He was put off-balance with the request. Giving her the items, he tried to reason with her. She smiled and nodded, saying nothing but scrawling a few lines, then tearing the yellow sheet off the legal pad, she folded it and handed it to Jarod. He distractedly stuffed the paper in his pocket without looking at it, still listing the myriad of reasons why this was an exceptionally bad idea. He walked into the kitchen and drew a full glass of water from the tap. "Do you want a glass of water?" he asked?
"No, thanks," she said. He took a sip, and then dumped the rest down the sink. He put the glass down on the counter and returned to the couch.
Jarod plopped down, satisfied that he had made his point. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he challenged her to disagree. "Well?"
She smiled at him. "Check your pocket."
"What?" She only continued to smile, and gestured with raised eyebrows at his pocket. He was annoyed with her lack of response. Couldn't she see reason? He dug into his jeans. He was surprised when his fingers encountered the paper. Pulling it out, he looked at it suspiciously. What was... oh, yeah, she had just given it to him, hadn't she? Apprehension seized him with icy fingers. He did not want to open it.
Almost against his own volition, he unfolded the note and read "Jarod will now go get a glass of water, offer me some, drink a little, and pour out the rest. He will put the glass down upside down."
Luckily Grace had resisted the temptation to tweak him further; she had considered adding a little smiley face at the end of the note, but had thought the better of it. He would definitely not be amused.
And amused he wasn't. He read and reread the note, fear growing in the pit of his stomach. He turned to look at the glass on the counter, mocking him ludicrously. When he looked back, his eyes were wide, his tone malevolent. "Did you do this? Did you make me do all this?"
Grace tried her best to be reassuring but firm. "You had to see it for yourself, Jarod. It won't happen again, I promise."
"You were in my mind?" His voice rose with a mixture of anger and fear.
"Jarod, listen. Yes. I put the suggestion in your mind. It was not 'mind control'. I did not make you do anything against your will. I planted the suggestion in such a way as to make you think it was your own idea."
"What's the difference?" He was losing control of his emotions. She had purposely gone into his mind, with neither his consent nor his knowledge. That was just what she had always claimed to abhor. His eyes narrowed now as his anger flamed. "I thought you found this type of thing disgusting. You certainly had no qualms about doing it just now."
"You're wrong about that," she said quietly.
He would have none of it. "Just stay out of my mind!" He stormed back to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. He breathed heavily and paced back and forth in the small space. How could she have just... just... invaded him like that? What had she called it? Mental rape?
He turned to see Tim standing in his doorway. No doubt the slamming door had awakened him. Jarod was still furious with Grace. "Get out of here!" he barked. Tim closed his eyes, but did not move. Jarod reined himself in somewhat. "I'm sorry. I'm just very angry right now. But not at you."
Tim opened his eyes again. He shook his head at Jarod sadly. "Listen to her."
Jarod turned his face away from him. "Just leave me alone, okay?"
After a moment, he turned back to see Tim had left without a sound. Jarod dropped onto his bed, throwing one arm over his eyes.
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