Author Note: Okay, now I'm going to make enemies of all of you who have been so nice and complimentary of the story, but... There's CHARACTER DEATH in this chapter.. (All caps in case anyone doesn't like to read my ramblings, because this time they're actually kind of important.)
The Shock
I've been through my whole wake-up routine (minus the shaving) and I'm waiting for Sydney, but he never shows up. Sometimes he goes away for a few days, but usually he tells me and someone else works with me for those days. (I prefer that he not go away, given my alternatives.) Today, nothing. He just doesn't show up.
The door finally opens. It's Miss Parker, and she looks like she wants to cry. For someone who has their emotions as controlled and hidden as she does, that means that inside she's sobbing. I catch my breath, not sure what this means.
"Jarod... I..." She shakes her head. "Sydney was killed this morning," she finally manages. Then she is silent, trying to hold back the tears that are even closer to breaking the emotional dam she's constructed. She turns to go, but I call out.
"Wait!" She turns. "What... how...?" It's not often that I'm this lost for words, but she just said the three words that I have always dreaded hearing, even if I didn't consciously know it.
She shakes her head. "I can't... I have to go. I just thought you deserved to hear it from someone who cared about him as much as you did." With that, she turns and flies through the door, and I know that as soon as she is out of sight she will cry.
Like I want to do, but the tears don't come. It's too unreal; how could Sydney be dead? And what does this mean for me? Horrible visions of SIMs I remember from working with Raines flash through my head, and I hope that they don't submit me to that. Maybe this is all some kind of test, or SIM, or... Maybe I'm dreaming... I know I'm grasping at straws, but I have to grasp at something!
Finally the door opens again, and a stranger enters. I just watch him enter; no smiles or greetings today. He smiles tentatively, sympathetically (or his attempt at such), then says, "Hi, Jarod. My name is Dr. Morris." I just watch him. He moves to sit next to me on the couch. "I know all of this must be a horrible shock... I'm here to talk to you about what happened."
"He's really dead, then?" I say, my voice barely holding out to say the words. I know it's true, and yet, I will it not to be.
Dr. Morris takes a deep breath. "Sydney was on his way to work this morning when he was hit by a big rig that had run the light. That's all I can tell you at the moment, they're still doing an investigation to find out what exactly happened."
I shake my head. It's too fast. Just like my parents and the plane crash. When they were coming to see me. Maybe I'm a dangerous person to visit. I know I'm being foolish, but at this moment I don't have a lot of control over my thoughts. "Was it--" I cut myself off in asking for more information, coming to a conclusion. "I want to SIM it."
"I don't think that's a good idea," he responds, shaking his head slowly. It's too much like Sydney, but he isn't Sydney! Anger swells up in me.
"It wasn't a request," I respond curtly.
The doctor doesn't take offense, but he doesn't change his mind either. "I can't let you do that, Jarod. It's too close, and you're too emotionally involved." He pauses. "I think we *both* know that."
The anger evaporates as quickly as it appeared, punctured by the calm and reason sitting next to me. Resigned, I nod slowly; he's right, and I can't do anything about it.
It hurts to have a stranger here, watching me as I struggle to come to terms with yet another senseless death. "Can I have some time alone?" I ask quietly.
He mirrors what I know Syd would have said. "You can have some time, but when I come back tomorrow we're going to get back to the SIM you were working on." I just nod wearily. I could fill in the rest myself. 'Being sad doesn't accomplish anything, you need to get on with life,' I hear Sydney's voice echo in my ears. Even he had only given me a few hours after informing me that my parents had died. Then again, when they died, everything around me didn't remind me of them; I didn't have memories flooding my head. I barely remember them.
I don't do anything; I can't do anything. What would I do? Slowly, my frustration begins to build. I slam my fist down on the table next to me, angry at the situation, at life. "No! It can't be, he can't be gone!" I know that that I am going through the grieving process; I know the stages by heart, and this is not the first time that I've experienced the hollow feeling that threatens to swallow me. This time, I think, it might just succeed.
I eat an early dinner, and I'm sure they put sedatives in it. I don't care. I want to sleep.
The morning comes too early. The routine is eerily familiar, and though it hurts terribly to have someone else standing where Sydney always did, I know that I must continue. Sydney would want me to, I tell myself. I'm not sure if I believe it or not.
That day I try to lose myself in the SIM; if I'm someone else then I'm not Jarod, missing the man who was my father in everything but word. At first, every time Dr. Morris speaks I am jarred out of the SIM by the unfamiliarity. I try again and again. It's not the doctor pushing me, it's me pushing myself. Finally, I push 'Jarod' to some faraway place and immerse myself in the SIM. When I finally come out of it, Dr. Morris tells me that he is disturbed at how long it took to get me out of the SIM. I just don't care.
He takes me back to my room, and tells me that he's giving me a few days off, "to grieve." I don't want to grieve, I want to forget what grieving is, but I know he's afraid of losing me in a SIM for real. I have to admit there's a part of me that's scared of that, also. Then I have to ask a question: Who am I, really? What is there of me that could be lost in a SIM?
The Shock
I've been through my whole wake-up routine (minus the shaving) and I'm waiting for Sydney, but he never shows up. Sometimes he goes away for a few days, but usually he tells me and someone else works with me for those days. (I prefer that he not go away, given my alternatives.) Today, nothing. He just doesn't show up.
The door finally opens. It's Miss Parker, and she looks like she wants to cry. For someone who has their emotions as controlled and hidden as she does, that means that inside she's sobbing. I catch my breath, not sure what this means.
"Jarod... I..." She shakes her head. "Sydney was killed this morning," she finally manages. Then she is silent, trying to hold back the tears that are even closer to breaking the emotional dam she's constructed. She turns to go, but I call out.
"Wait!" She turns. "What... how...?" It's not often that I'm this lost for words, but she just said the three words that I have always dreaded hearing, even if I didn't consciously know it.
She shakes her head. "I can't... I have to go. I just thought you deserved to hear it from someone who cared about him as much as you did." With that, she turns and flies through the door, and I know that as soon as she is out of sight she will cry.
Like I want to do, but the tears don't come. It's too unreal; how could Sydney be dead? And what does this mean for me? Horrible visions of SIMs I remember from working with Raines flash through my head, and I hope that they don't submit me to that. Maybe this is all some kind of test, or SIM, or... Maybe I'm dreaming... I know I'm grasping at straws, but I have to grasp at something!
Finally the door opens again, and a stranger enters. I just watch him enter; no smiles or greetings today. He smiles tentatively, sympathetically (or his attempt at such), then says, "Hi, Jarod. My name is Dr. Morris." I just watch him. He moves to sit next to me on the couch. "I know all of this must be a horrible shock... I'm here to talk to you about what happened."
"He's really dead, then?" I say, my voice barely holding out to say the words. I know it's true, and yet, I will it not to be.
Dr. Morris takes a deep breath. "Sydney was on his way to work this morning when he was hit by a big rig that had run the light. That's all I can tell you at the moment, they're still doing an investigation to find out what exactly happened."
I shake my head. It's too fast. Just like my parents and the plane crash. When they were coming to see me. Maybe I'm a dangerous person to visit. I know I'm being foolish, but at this moment I don't have a lot of control over my thoughts. "Was it--" I cut myself off in asking for more information, coming to a conclusion. "I want to SIM it."
"I don't think that's a good idea," he responds, shaking his head slowly. It's too much like Sydney, but he isn't Sydney! Anger swells up in me.
"It wasn't a request," I respond curtly.
The doctor doesn't take offense, but he doesn't change his mind either. "I can't let you do that, Jarod. It's too close, and you're too emotionally involved." He pauses. "I think we *both* know that."
The anger evaporates as quickly as it appeared, punctured by the calm and reason sitting next to me. Resigned, I nod slowly; he's right, and I can't do anything about it.
It hurts to have a stranger here, watching me as I struggle to come to terms with yet another senseless death. "Can I have some time alone?" I ask quietly.
He mirrors what I know Syd would have said. "You can have some time, but when I come back tomorrow we're going to get back to the SIM you were working on." I just nod wearily. I could fill in the rest myself. 'Being sad doesn't accomplish anything, you need to get on with life,' I hear Sydney's voice echo in my ears. Even he had only given me a few hours after informing me that my parents had died. Then again, when they died, everything around me didn't remind me of them; I didn't have memories flooding my head. I barely remember them.
I don't do anything; I can't do anything. What would I do? Slowly, my frustration begins to build. I slam my fist down on the table next to me, angry at the situation, at life. "No! It can't be, he can't be gone!" I know that that I am going through the grieving process; I know the stages by heart, and this is not the first time that I've experienced the hollow feeling that threatens to swallow me. This time, I think, it might just succeed.
I eat an early dinner, and I'm sure they put sedatives in it. I don't care. I want to sleep.
The morning comes too early. The routine is eerily familiar, and though it hurts terribly to have someone else standing where Sydney always did, I know that I must continue. Sydney would want me to, I tell myself. I'm not sure if I believe it or not.
That day I try to lose myself in the SIM; if I'm someone else then I'm not Jarod, missing the man who was my father in everything but word. At first, every time Dr. Morris speaks I am jarred out of the SIM by the unfamiliarity. I try again and again. It's not the doctor pushing me, it's me pushing myself. Finally, I push 'Jarod' to some faraway place and immerse myself in the SIM. When I finally come out of it, Dr. Morris tells me that he is disturbed at how long it took to get me out of the SIM. I just don't care.
He takes me back to my room, and tells me that he's giving me a few days off, "to grieve." I don't want to grieve, I want to forget what grieving is, but I know he's afraid of losing me in a SIM for real. I have to admit there's a part of me that's scared of that, also. Then I have to ask a question: Who am I, really? What is there of me that could be lost in a SIM?