Beginnings
By Andrea Christine
Author's Note:
This story takes place a few days after the first 2001 movie. These characters do not belong to me, so no copyright infringement is intended.
Jarod sank onto the bed in his current lair, exhausted in every way possible. His head was spinning from the events of the past few days... Alex, the assassination attempt, Miss Parker finding out from Alex that Mr. Parker was not her father. Most of all, Jarod was wondering exactly what Alex had meant when he said that The Centre had another reason for wanting him back.
None of it seemed to sink in. Without bothering to undress, Jarod lay down and turned out the light. Perhaps things would seem clearer in the morning.
In what felt like only minutes later, Jarod was awakened by the sound of water running. He groaned and turned over, eyes still shut. Had he taken a shower and forgotten to turn off the water? It certainly sounded like a shower. Jarod reached over to turn on the lamp, but could not find it. He sat upright and looked around in confusion. He was not lying on the small bed in his lair, but on a king-size bed covered by a green chenille bedspread. There was no lamp beside him, it was across the room on a large chest of drawers. The water sound seemed to grow louder as he observed his surroundings. It was coming from an adjoining room, which he presumed was a bathroom.
Before he had a chance to move, the doorknob turned. "It's you!" The voice sounded shocked and a little indignant. Jarod would have known that voice anywhere. He turned around to see Miss Parker, dressed like someone from the cover of a 1950's fashion magazine, standing in the doorway. She was wearing a green evening gown, with spaghetti straps and a wide belt at the waist, before the skirt billowed above swishing cancans. For a moment, he was astounded at the length of the skirt, she usually preferred them much shorter. Yet, it really was Miss Parker.
"Miss Parker?" Jarod couldn't believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you," she said, as she walked across the room to the chest of drawers, where she found a pair of coordinating rhinestone earrings. She sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Look, Jarod, I'll make this short and sweet. I don't know any more about this than you do. One minute I was at my desk, and the next minute I was here. Wearing this. With my inner sense, I should have expected that something odd was going on. I suppose it's about looking for answers. You are, however, the last person I would have expected to find here."
Jarod noticed that the manner in which he and Miss Parker communicated with one another was a bit more relaxed. They had been on the same side, for once, sharing a half-brother, Ethan. A certain tension still existed. However, it was clear that they would have to work together in order to make progress uncovering the secrets of their pasts.
Jarod stood up and walked to the large window opposite the bed. Eerie, majestic colored lights were dancing through the sky. "The Aurora Borealis," Jarod muttered under his breath. He looked down at the table next to the window, which held a small notepad and pencil that read "ROSLYN HOTEL, FAIRBANKS AK". "Alaska," he said to himself.
"That's where it all started," stated Miss Parker, echoing his thoughts. "Anchorage was my first stop on this wild goose chase."
Jarod's eyes fell upon the newspaper lying beside the notepad. "March 15, 1953?" What was significant about 1953? Neither he nor Miss Parker had even been born in that year. Why were they here?
"Come on, Jarod." Miss Parker was ready to go downstairs. "I'm as confused by all of this as you are. Let's get this over and done."
* * *
Downstairs, a large, lively dinner party was in progress. A jazz quartet was playing on one of the stages at the end of the long hall. People dressed in evening clothes lingered around the bar, making their way past the tables and into the hall.
"Do you see anyone familiar?" Miss Parker asked Jarod as they descended the gigantic carved oak staircase in the center of the hotel.
"No, not yet." Jarod quickly searched the room.
"Not much of a private party," observed Miss Parker as they sat down at an empty table near the end of the room opposite the jazz quartet. A waiter appeared and brought them something from the bar.
From their unique vantage point, Jarod focused on the people around him. Most of them were at least his age, elegantly dressed and looked as if they came from great wealth.
His thoughts were interrupted by the laughing voices coming from the hallway. Miss Parker glanced toward the door. "Jarod! Look!" She pointed to the doorway, her eyes growing wide.
Two girls, not more than eighteen years old, entered the room and surveying the crowd. One had long red hair piled high on her head, secured with tortoiseshell combs. "Really, Catherine," she said to her friend, "Aren't you glad I talked you into this trip?"
The other girl, very tall with black hair and green eyes, nodded. "You're right, Margaret. Let's sit here so we'll be closer to the band."
"It's my mother!" Jarod and Miss Parker said in unison. They tried to appear as though nothing was out of the ordinary as the girls sat down at the opposite end of the table.
"Oh, hello!" Margaret, said turning to Jarod and Miss Parker. "We didn't see you down there. Care if we join you?"
Jarod smiled at them, too shocked to speak.
"That would be fine," Miss Parker answered, still unable to believe the situation.
"I'm Margaret, and this is Catherine." Margaret introduced herself and her friend.
Miss Parker and Jarod exchanged an incredulous look. Jarod cleared his throat. "My name's Jarod. And this is..."
Miss Parker told them her first name, deciding it would be best to keep the particulars to themselves.
"So," Catherine said, noticing the uncanny resemblance between herself and Miss Parker, "where are you from? We're from Delaware."
"Catherine and I go to school in Virginia," Margaret explained with a cheerful smile.
"We're having Spring Break this week, and I nearly had to drag Catherine up here. It's not Florida, but it's unusual!"
Jarod tried hard not to stare. In his dreams and memories, his mother was a young woman, vibrantly beautiful. Here she was an exuberant teenager, with her whole life ahead of her. He had never pictured his mother at eighteen.
Catherine, of course, was just a younger version of Miss Parker. She spoke less than her talkative friend, but possessed the warmth which Miss Parker so cherished whenever she thought of her mother.
"That's very interesting," Jarod said, trying to make conversation. "So how did you decide to spend your week up here in Fairbanks?"
"We came with a friend," Margaret replied. "A neighbor, actually."
Mercifully for Jarod and Miss Parker, the curtain went up on the stage in front of them. The other jazz band was about to begin.
"These are some of the most innovative musicians in the country," Catherine told them as the men took their places on the bandstand.
"Especially the pianist," commented Margaret.
The band jumped into a swinging tune, giving the entire hall a lighter, happier energy.
"They are good," Jarod commented to Miss Parker.
She was staring at the pianist. "This is too weird," she said. "Look at him."
"It's Angelo! Just like when Sydney was giving him those treatments!" Jarod's eyes misted over, as he remembered how Angelo had all too briefly been reversed into Timmy. He had spent nearly the entire weekend at the cabin playing the piano.
Miss Parker also had tears in her eyes. "Well, it can't really be Angelo. It must be his father, or someone else in the family."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbed in the music.
As soon as the song finished, a young man about twenty-five years old climbed the stairs to the bandstand and addressed the crowd.
"Good evening, everyone!" Polite applause rippled through the crowd. "It is my privilege to propose a toast to the man who's the reason for our celebration. Congratulations to my good friend, and best wishes for his future plans."
The applause grew louder as another young man, dark-haired with a mustache, stood up to acknowledge the crowd's enthusiasm. "Thank you all," he replied. "I have great hopes for the future..."
Jarod and Miss Parker were sitting with their backs to the man's table. Jarod turned around in his chair to attend to the speaker. Miss Parker began to do the same. Just when it seemed that the evening could not get any more bizarre, she realized that she knew that voice. It was her father.
"Jarod!" Her fingernails dug into his arm in a startled grip. "It's Daddy!" Her voice was reduced to a sharp whisper. "He looks so young! Why would he be here?"
Jarod saw that Catherine and Margaret were listening. "Shh, later. We'll talk about later," he said through clenched teeth. "You don't want them to suspect anything." He smiled at the girls at the other end of the table and led Miss Parker into the hallway.
"What are we doing here?" She was nothing short of dazed by the evening's events.
Inside the hall, young Mr. Parker was concluding his speech. "So, I'd like to ask my associates to meet me in the cigar room after dinner." His face assumed the take-me-seriously-or-else expression both Jarod and Miss Parker knew all too well. "We're going to cure what ails our society. Thank you very much." More applause followed.
"He's founding the Centre," Miss Parker exclaimed as though she herself could not believe it. "I once overheard him telling Mother about this night, when he and his colleagues got together and started it."
"I'll bet your mother didn't mention that she was also here," Jarod stated.
An idea ran through her mind. "Maybe she doesn't know...who she's with... what's really going on..."
Footsteps interrupted their conversation, as Mr. Parker and his associates headed from the dining hall into the cigar room, ready to begin their negotiations. Jarod and Miss Parker ducked into the nearest room. Thankfully, it was empty. From their hiding place, they watched the men who followed Mr. Parker.
"At least we'll know who to expect," Jarod said as they watched a much younger Mr. Raines walk down the hallway.
"William, my old buddy!" Mr. Parker shook his hand vigorously. "How's medical school?"
Raines answered as he entered the room, his answer inaudible. Next Mr. Parker welcomed a man they didn't recognize.
"Where's General Charles?" Mr. Parker leaned out into the hallway and searched both directions. "He said he'd be here."
"Charles?" Miss Parker whispered to Jarod as they listened from the adjoining room. "Ring a bell?"
"They call my father Major Charles," Jarod answered, confused. "But I don't know any General."
A doorknob turned behind them. "I thought this room was empty!" Jarod turned around to see what had caused the noise. A stately man, tall with white hair and large dark eyes, strode forward as if there were nothing unusual about discovering two people hiding in a darkened room.
"Pardon me, do you know the way to the cigar room?" The man smiled politely at Jarod and Miss Parker.
"One door over," answered Miss Parker. "You're looking for someone?"
The man shook his head. "Forgive me, where are my manners? I'm the General. General Charles."
Jarod and Miss Parker introduced themselves to the General. Jarod then deduced that the man had to be some relation to his father, not only because of the name but also due to the physical resemblance the two men shared. Major Charles was a little taller than the General, but they shared the same blue eyes and overall bearing.
"I have a son a little younger than you," the General said. "He's in the Air Force. I brought him and a couple girls from the neighborhood up here for Spring Break. You really should meet them."
Jarod felt himself shiver.
The General continued. "Any girl who passes up Ft. Lauderdale for Fairbanks has my admiration. I'd love to visit, but I have a meeting to attend." He crossed the room and opened the door. "A little dark in here, isn't it?" He chuckled as he turned on the light.
Jarod stared at Miss Parker. "My grandfather brought out mothers here? Why?" As he spoke, he noticed that everything was starting to grow fuzzy, disintegrated like ripples in a pond. Miss Parker's form was also slowly disappearing. All Jarod could hear was the pounding of his heart. With a jolt, he sat upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
"It was a dream," he assured himself as soon as the wild moments of terror had passed. "A dream."
* * *
Miss Parker was pacing the halls of the Centre. She had been working late in her office when she fell asleep at her desk and had instantly been plunged into the oddest dream. Getting up and walking was the only way she could bring herself back to reality.
She had finally succeeded in convincing herself that it was only the figment of an overtired, overstressed mind when a sound caused her to stop. It was the sound of a piano, a simple melody being played over and over again. Miss Parker stopped at the nearest door and silently pushed it open. Angelo was standing over a piano in one of the sim rooms. It was then that she realized that the song was the same one she and Jarod had heard at the hotel in Fairbanks.
Unaware of anyone watching him, Angelo played the melody to the finish one last time. He turned to the side, smiling and giving short bows, just as the famous jazz innovator had done in response to his audience's enthusiastic applause.
The End
By Andrea Christine
Author's Note:
This story takes place a few days after the first 2001 movie. These characters do not belong to me, so no copyright infringement is intended.
Jarod sank onto the bed in his current lair, exhausted in every way possible. His head was spinning from the events of the past few days... Alex, the assassination attempt, Miss Parker finding out from Alex that Mr. Parker was not her father. Most of all, Jarod was wondering exactly what Alex had meant when he said that The Centre had another reason for wanting him back.
None of it seemed to sink in. Without bothering to undress, Jarod lay down and turned out the light. Perhaps things would seem clearer in the morning.
In what felt like only minutes later, Jarod was awakened by the sound of water running. He groaned and turned over, eyes still shut. Had he taken a shower and forgotten to turn off the water? It certainly sounded like a shower. Jarod reached over to turn on the lamp, but could not find it. He sat upright and looked around in confusion. He was not lying on the small bed in his lair, but on a king-size bed covered by a green chenille bedspread. There was no lamp beside him, it was across the room on a large chest of drawers. The water sound seemed to grow louder as he observed his surroundings. It was coming from an adjoining room, which he presumed was a bathroom.
Before he had a chance to move, the doorknob turned. "It's you!" The voice sounded shocked and a little indignant. Jarod would have known that voice anywhere. He turned around to see Miss Parker, dressed like someone from the cover of a 1950's fashion magazine, standing in the doorway. She was wearing a green evening gown, with spaghetti straps and a wide belt at the waist, before the skirt billowed above swishing cancans. For a moment, he was astounded at the length of the skirt, she usually preferred them much shorter. Yet, it really was Miss Parker.
"Miss Parker?" Jarod couldn't believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you," she said, as she walked across the room to the chest of drawers, where she found a pair of coordinating rhinestone earrings. She sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Look, Jarod, I'll make this short and sweet. I don't know any more about this than you do. One minute I was at my desk, and the next minute I was here. Wearing this. With my inner sense, I should have expected that something odd was going on. I suppose it's about looking for answers. You are, however, the last person I would have expected to find here."
Jarod noticed that the manner in which he and Miss Parker communicated with one another was a bit more relaxed. They had been on the same side, for once, sharing a half-brother, Ethan. A certain tension still existed. However, it was clear that they would have to work together in order to make progress uncovering the secrets of their pasts.
Jarod stood up and walked to the large window opposite the bed. Eerie, majestic colored lights were dancing through the sky. "The Aurora Borealis," Jarod muttered under his breath. He looked down at the table next to the window, which held a small notepad and pencil that read "ROSLYN HOTEL, FAIRBANKS AK". "Alaska," he said to himself.
"That's where it all started," stated Miss Parker, echoing his thoughts. "Anchorage was my first stop on this wild goose chase."
Jarod's eyes fell upon the newspaper lying beside the notepad. "March 15, 1953?" What was significant about 1953? Neither he nor Miss Parker had even been born in that year. Why were they here?
"Come on, Jarod." Miss Parker was ready to go downstairs. "I'm as confused by all of this as you are. Let's get this over and done."
* * *
Downstairs, a large, lively dinner party was in progress. A jazz quartet was playing on one of the stages at the end of the long hall. People dressed in evening clothes lingered around the bar, making their way past the tables and into the hall.
"Do you see anyone familiar?" Miss Parker asked Jarod as they descended the gigantic carved oak staircase in the center of the hotel.
"No, not yet." Jarod quickly searched the room.
"Not much of a private party," observed Miss Parker as they sat down at an empty table near the end of the room opposite the jazz quartet. A waiter appeared and brought them something from the bar.
From their unique vantage point, Jarod focused on the people around him. Most of them were at least his age, elegantly dressed and looked as if they came from great wealth.
His thoughts were interrupted by the laughing voices coming from the hallway. Miss Parker glanced toward the door. "Jarod! Look!" She pointed to the doorway, her eyes growing wide.
Two girls, not more than eighteen years old, entered the room and surveying the crowd. One had long red hair piled high on her head, secured with tortoiseshell combs. "Really, Catherine," she said to her friend, "Aren't you glad I talked you into this trip?"
The other girl, very tall with black hair and green eyes, nodded. "You're right, Margaret. Let's sit here so we'll be closer to the band."
"It's my mother!" Jarod and Miss Parker said in unison. They tried to appear as though nothing was out of the ordinary as the girls sat down at the opposite end of the table.
"Oh, hello!" Margaret, said turning to Jarod and Miss Parker. "We didn't see you down there. Care if we join you?"
Jarod smiled at them, too shocked to speak.
"That would be fine," Miss Parker answered, still unable to believe the situation.
"I'm Margaret, and this is Catherine." Margaret introduced herself and her friend.
Miss Parker and Jarod exchanged an incredulous look. Jarod cleared his throat. "My name's Jarod. And this is..."
Miss Parker told them her first name, deciding it would be best to keep the particulars to themselves.
"So," Catherine said, noticing the uncanny resemblance between herself and Miss Parker, "where are you from? We're from Delaware."
"Catherine and I go to school in Virginia," Margaret explained with a cheerful smile.
"We're having Spring Break this week, and I nearly had to drag Catherine up here. It's not Florida, but it's unusual!"
Jarod tried hard not to stare. In his dreams and memories, his mother was a young woman, vibrantly beautiful. Here she was an exuberant teenager, with her whole life ahead of her. He had never pictured his mother at eighteen.
Catherine, of course, was just a younger version of Miss Parker. She spoke less than her talkative friend, but possessed the warmth which Miss Parker so cherished whenever she thought of her mother.
"That's very interesting," Jarod said, trying to make conversation. "So how did you decide to spend your week up here in Fairbanks?"
"We came with a friend," Margaret replied. "A neighbor, actually."
Mercifully for Jarod and Miss Parker, the curtain went up on the stage in front of them. The other jazz band was about to begin.
"These are some of the most innovative musicians in the country," Catherine told them as the men took their places on the bandstand.
"Especially the pianist," commented Margaret.
The band jumped into a swinging tune, giving the entire hall a lighter, happier energy.
"They are good," Jarod commented to Miss Parker.
She was staring at the pianist. "This is too weird," she said. "Look at him."
"It's Angelo! Just like when Sydney was giving him those treatments!" Jarod's eyes misted over, as he remembered how Angelo had all too briefly been reversed into Timmy. He had spent nearly the entire weekend at the cabin playing the piano.
Miss Parker also had tears in her eyes. "Well, it can't really be Angelo. It must be his father, or someone else in the family."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbed in the music.
As soon as the song finished, a young man about twenty-five years old climbed the stairs to the bandstand and addressed the crowd.
"Good evening, everyone!" Polite applause rippled through the crowd. "It is my privilege to propose a toast to the man who's the reason for our celebration. Congratulations to my good friend, and best wishes for his future plans."
The applause grew louder as another young man, dark-haired with a mustache, stood up to acknowledge the crowd's enthusiasm. "Thank you all," he replied. "I have great hopes for the future..."
Jarod and Miss Parker were sitting with their backs to the man's table. Jarod turned around in his chair to attend to the speaker. Miss Parker began to do the same. Just when it seemed that the evening could not get any more bizarre, she realized that she knew that voice. It was her father.
"Jarod!" Her fingernails dug into his arm in a startled grip. "It's Daddy!" Her voice was reduced to a sharp whisper. "He looks so young! Why would he be here?"
Jarod saw that Catherine and Margaret were listening. "Shh, later. We'll talk about later," he said through clenched teeth. "You don't want them to suspect anything." He smiled at the girls at the other end of the table and led Miss Parker into the hallway.
"What are we doing here?" She was nothing short of dazed by the evening's events.
Inside the hall, young Mr. Parker was concluding his speech. "So, I'd like to ask my associates to meet me in the cigar room after dinner." His face assumed the take-me-seriously-or-else expression both Jarod and Miss Parker knew all too well. "We're going to cure what ails our society. Thank you very much." More applause followed.
"He's founding the Centre," Miss Parker exclaimed as though she herself could not believe it. "I once overheard him telling Mother about this night, when he and his colleagues got together and started it."
"I'll bet your mother didn't mention that she was also here," Jarod stated.
An idea ran through her mind. "Maybe she doesn't know...who she's with... what's really going on..."
Footsteps interrupted their conversation, as Mr. Parker and his associates headed from the dining hall into the cigar room, ready to begin their negotiations. Jarod and Miss Parker ducked into the nearest room. Thankfully, it was empty. From their hiding place, they watched the men who followed Mr. Parker.
"At least we'll know who to expect," Jarod said as they watched a much younger Mr. Raines walk down the hallway.
"William, my old buddy!" Mr. Parker shook his hand vigorously. "How's medical school?"
Raines answered as he entered the room, his answer inaudible. Next Mr. Parker welcomed a man they didn't recognize.
"Where's General Charles?" Mr. Parker leaned out into the hallway and searched both directions. "He said he'd be here."
"Charles?" Miss Parker whispered to Jarod as they listened from the adjoining room. "Ring a bell?"
"They call my father Major Charles," Jarod answered, confused. "But I don't know any General."
A doorknob turned behind them. "I thought this room was empty!" Jarod turned around to see what had caused the noise. A stately man, tall with white hair and large dark eyes, strode forward as if there were nothing unusual about discovering two people hiding in a darkened room.
"Pardon me, do you know the way to the cigar room?" The man smiled politely at Jarod and Miss Parker.
"One door over," answered Miss Parker. "You're looking for someone?"
The man shook his head. "Forgive me, where are my manners? I'm the General. General Charles."
Jarod and Miss Parker introduced themselves to the General. Jarod then deduced that the man had to be some relation to his father, not only because of the name but also due to the physical resemblance the two men shared. Major Charles was a little taller than the General, but they shared the same blue eyes and overall bearing.
"I have a son a little younger than you," the General said. "He's in the Air Force. I brought him and a couple girls from the neighborhood up here for Spring Break. You really should meet them."
Jarod felt himself shiver.
The General continued. "Any girl who passes up Ft. Lauderdale for Fairbanks has my admiration. I'd love to visit, but I have a meeting to attend." He crossed the room and opened the door. "A little dark in here, isn't it?" He chuckled as he turned on the light.
Jarod stared at Miss Parker. "My grandfather brought out mothers here? Why?" As he spoke, he noticed that everything was starting to grow fuzzy, disintegrated like ripples in a pond. Miss Parker's form was also slowly disappearing. All Jarod could hear was the pounding of his heart. With a jolt, he sat upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
"It was a dream," he assured himself as soon as the wild moments of terror had passed. "A dream."
* * *
Miss Parker was pacing the halls of the Centre. She had been working late in her office when she fell asleep at her desk and had instantly been plunged into the oddest dream. Getting up and walking was the only way she could bring herself back to reality.
She had finally succeeded in convincing herself that it was only the figment of an overtired, overstressed mind when a sound caused her to stop. It was the sound of a piano, a simple melody being played over and over again. Miss Parker stopped at the nearest door and silently pushed it open. Angelo was standing over a piano in one of the sim rooms. It was then that she realized that the song was the same one she and Jarod had heard at the hotel in Fairbanks.
Unaware of anyone watching him, Angelo played the melody to the finish one last time. He turned to the side, smiling and giving short bows, just as the famous jazz innovator had done in response to his audience's enthusiastic applause.
The End