****
Lyle pulled up at his sister's house in the early morning, exiting his car
and nodding grimly at the sweeper who stood just outside the front door. On his
way in, he paused to study the lock briefly - no signs of a forced entry. He
took some gloves from his pocket, snapping them on as he stepped inside the dim
central living area. Broots and Sydney were already inside.
Stepping over the shards of shattered vase, he lifted the telephone
receiver and replaced it in its cradle. He lifted his sister's gun from where
it lay, still sheathed in its holster, and glanced up at Sydney, "So, you think
Jarod did this?"
"Yes," Sydney said reluctantly, holding out a piece of paper, "We found this on
the kitchen table."
Lyle unfolded the sheet of plain white paper - on it, Jarod's familiar
handwriting. 'You will get your family back when I get mine,' it read, and was
signed, quite simply, '-J.'
Lyle said nothing, merely refolding the note and tucking it into his
jacket pocket. He looked back and forth from Sydney to Broots, awaiting
answers.
"Well, uh, at least we know he is back in the country..." Broots said, and
shrugged miserably.
"Your pet project is on dangerous terrain, Syd," Lyle snapped, "What the hell
made him think he could get away with this?"
"I don't know," Sydney said, sounding very, very sad, "This is totally unlike
Jarod. Normally he would not resort to such extreme measures-"
"Then something must have made him snap!" Lyle interrupted. He turned on his
heel, dismissing the two other men curtly, "Find him, and my sister, before he
develops a taste for blood."
****
Parker felt hazy awareness filtering over her slowly, a sensation of
motion and the distant sound of voices. She tried to speak, but couldn't get a
sound out past the thickness in her throat and an ache in her head. She
struggled to open her eyes, squinting at a sharp, painful bright light.
"...the hotel, she let me escape, but promised it was the end of our truce..." a
male voice was saying. Jarod, Miss Parker realized, the voice belonged to
Jarod, as did the blurry face somewhere above her.
She groaned, twisting her head and inhaling sharply, catching the scent of
male cologne and a faint wisp of soap and sweat. Her head was in his lap, her
nose against his thigh. She turned her head to look at him again as he stopped
talking, bending over to look at her. She felt the warmth of his palm on her
forehead, his thumbs lifting her eyelids one by one.
"Pass me the needle, would you? I'd prefer to keep her out, for the moment..."
he murmured, and she heard a female affirmative response.
"No. No, you bastard!" she managed to hiss, and Jarod made shushing noises as
he held her steady. There was a gentle prick in one arm, and her eyes welled
with tears. The last thing she felt before she passed out was Jarod's palm
gently stroking her hair, his mouth brushing across her temple.
****
They had rented a farmhouse in Nevada, a few hours out of Las Vegas and in
the middle of nowhere. They had enough supplies to last them a month, a
satellite Internet connection and one car, which Jarod had hidden the keys for.
December and September had promised to aid and assist Jarod in case Miss Parker
got violent.
Which he doubted. But he still wasn't taking any chances.
Climbing the stairs, Jarod pushed open the door of the bedroom that had
been assigned to her. He had noticed her stirring slightly the last time he had
checked up on her, and expected her to be awake soon. He crept into the room,
noticing she lay in exactly the same position as when he had laid her there
several hours ago; on her back, her arms by her side, head on the pillow.
Jarod leant over her, searching her face for any sign of alertness.
Parker looked unnaturally still, he thought, her pale face slack, and there was
no movement under her lids. With a start, he noticed she didn't appear to be
breathing, her chest no longer rising and falling as it had earlier. Kneeling
beside her on the bed, his hand shaking, Jarod placed his hand to her throat,
searching desperately for a pulse, wondering if he had fumbled the dosage of the
sedatives he'd used.
Parker's eyes snapped open just as he found a strong, rapid beat, her hand
grabbing his wrist in a claw-like grasp. They stared at each other for a
moment, and then she sucked in a deep breath.
"You scared me!" Jarod accused.
"You kidnapped me," Miss Parker said, and brought her knee up between his
thighs.
Gasping with pain, Jarod dropped heavily on top of her as she tried to
roll away, pinning her to the bed. She snarled with fury, and Jarod let out a
soft groan of pain, grabbing her wrists as she tried to shove him off her. They
grappled, Jarod managing to get a hold of her wrists and pushing them up above
her head. He forced his knees between hers, lying with his pelvis against hers.
There was a moment of silence, and he dropped his face to the pillow beside her
head, breathing harshly with pain and effort.
"Not nice, Miss Parker," he said after a moment. She bucked against him,
attempting to dislodge him.
"You fucking broke into my house and kidnapped me!" she snarled.
"You know I wouldn't do it without a damn good reason," he muttered.
"The minute you let me go I'm going to cut your throat and string you up by the
balls," Parker said dangerously.
"I need your help," Jarod said.
"You prick-!" Parker began, but he cut her off.
"This concerns you, Miss Parker. I wish it didn't," he murmured. He turned his
head even more, so his nose brushed her ear now. He was suddenly quite
conscious of the intimate position they were in.
"You couldn't tell me in a phone call?!" she asked incredulously. Jarod raised
his torso so he could look down into her eyes, their faces only a few inches
apart.
"You're not going to react well to what I have to tell you. I wanted you to be
somewhere where you wouldn't do anything stupid," he said seriously.
"What?" she asked. Jarod gave her a measuring look.
"If I get off you, you have to promise not to hurt me," he said warningly.
Parker nodded slowly.
Gingerly, Jarod eased himself up and away from her, sinking back onto his
knees in front of her. Parker scrambled upright, quickly straightening her
clothes and running her hand over her hair. She cradled her temple for a
moment, and Jarod grimaced sympathetically.
"Sorry ... the drugs... I'll get you an aspirin," he said apologetically.
He climbed off the bed, stepping quickly into the adjoining bathroom, which was
shared with his own room, and retrieved a couple of aspirin and a glass of
water. Before he returned to the other room he checked the mirror, touching his
swollen lip lightly - it was from when Miss Parker had hit him while they
struggled in her house. The lip was split, and it was slightly painful to talk,
but nothing he couldn't handle. With a shrug, he returned to the bedroom with
the aspirin.
Parker swallowed them dry when he passed them to her, and then drank deeply from
the water. When she had set the glass on the bedside table, she crossed her
arms over her chest and watched him expectantly. He smiled weakly, running a
hand through his hair.
"You don't... you don't have to worry about the Centre thinking you've run away
with me. I came up with a viable solution, letting them think I've kidnapped
you in a desperate attempt to get information on my family," Jarod explained
haltingly, but Miss Parker remained unimpressed.
"Great. So what the hell am I doing here, Jarod?" she asked bluntly. He bit
his lip, staring down at his hands thoughtfully - now that the time had come, he
couldn't quite find the words to explain it to her.
"I stumbled across something - completely by accident - that is... monumental,"
he said, measuring his words carefully. Miss Parker eyed him expectantly.
"And what does this have to do with me?"
Jarod opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when a knock sounded at
the door. He closed his mouth abruptly. He supposed there was no better way to
explain than with cold hard fact, and crossed the room to stand by Parker, who
was still sitting on the bed. She looked up at him coldly.
"Come in," he called.
The door swung open slowly, and December and September entered the room.
September was looking her usual solemn self, her long hair half-covering her
face, covered from neck to ankle in an oversized sweater and a long skirt. She
stood timidly in the room, eyeing Miss Parker with nervous curiosity. December
was more confidant, brazenly stepping into the room and settling her hands on
her hips. She had her hair up in a high ponytail, and was wearing a tank top
with the Union Jack on it and some faded jeans.
Parker dropped her glass, not registering when it shattered on the
hardwood floor. She stared at her two counterparts, her mouth open, and slowly
began to shake her head.
"No... no, no, NO!" she cried. She leapt to her feet, and then paused, as if
unsure of what to do. Jarod placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Parker, I want you to meet December, on the left, and September, on the
right," he said grimly.
"You are January," December said, and it wasn't a question. Parker turned to
look at Jarod, tears streaming down her face.
"How could they do this?" she asked, "How *could* they?"
"January?" September said hesitantly, "It's okay, really..."
"Don't CALL me that!" Parker cried, and whirled around, lunging for the other
woman, hands outstretched.
Jarod caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest,
holding her as she struggled and growled. A moment later the fight seemed to go
out of her, and she slumped, crying brokenly. Jarod eased them both to the
floor, pulling her onto his lap and rocking her gently as she sobbed.
December and September sat down opposite them, examining the woman he held
in his arms. Parker turned her head away from them, so her face rested in the
curve of his neck, and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin.
After a few moments she quieted, leaning heavily into him and turning slowly to
look at September and December.
"I'm not even the original, am I?" she asked. September shook her head
mournfully.
December held out her hand, showing a single, white scar running across
the top of her index finger, just above the first knuckle. Reluctantly, Miss
Parker took off the silver ring on the index finger of her left hand, revealing
an identical scar, small and clean and precise, as if it were a marking of some
kind.
"Everybody always commented on how much I look like Mama," she said bitterly,
and pushed the ring back into place.
"I'm sorry," Jarod said softly.
"Nothing," Miss Parker said flatly, "Nothing can ever make this better."
****
"Anything?" Lyle asked. It had been three days since Jarod had stolen his
sister, and now he stood in the sim lab, on the observation deck. Below him,
Sydney, Broots and Angelo huddled, looking miserable.
"We were just about to give Angelo the note Jarod left," Sydney said.
"There have been no sightings of Jarod at any airports or bus terminals," Broots
said.
"Of course not," Lyle snapped impatiently, descending to their level, "He's got
an unwilling captive to drag around with him. Give freak boy the damn note."
Angelo flinched away as Lyle drew closer, but accepted the note Sydney
offered. He ran his fingers over the writing, flicking his head and blinking
rapidly.
"Jarod angry," he said, and squinted his eyes in concentration, "Angry, sad. No
more. No more."
Lyle tightened his jaw, snatching the note away from the savant in
disgust. "Nothing we didn't know already. Jarod has lost it!" he exclaimed,
throwing up his hands.
"Jarod wouldn't have-" Sydney began, but Lyle glared him into silence.
"Jarod *has*. My father will *not* be pleased if your little science experiment
starts killing off operatives," Lyle said. He gave them another last hard
stare, "The moment you have something, I want to know about it."
****
They sat around the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Miss Parker
couldn't help but stare at December and September, unable to come to terms with
what her sight was telling her. They were clones. *She* was a clone.
"Daddy....He told me never to use my first name. I never understood why,
because Mama told me it was he who had chosen that name..." she said, and shook
her head.
"They're designated names. We are only distinguishable because of the month and
country we were raised in," December said.
"He must have known. He knew you were what you were. Probably signed all the
forms himself," Jarod said angrily.
"But he didn't want me to go by my code name, by the name that identified me as
a... as a..." Miss Parker said, but found she just couldn't say the word. She
skipped over it determinedly, "He wanted me to be different. That has to count
for something."
"The result is still the same," Jarod said softly. She stared at him for a long
moment, hurt and loss on her face.
"He's not my father," she said flatly, and then shook her head in confusion, "We
can't even be related... it doesn't make sense! How do you explain Lyle?"
"Who is Lyle?" September asked, with a strange expression on her face, which
Parker ignored.
"My brother. My *twin* brother. How is that even possible?" she asked, and
Jarod tilted his head thoughtfully.
"The only thing I can think of is that your mother was impregnated at almost the
same time as a fertilized egg was placed in her womb. Perhaps was already
pregnant..." he said.
"But the blood test..." Parker said helplessly.
"The blood test showed that you and Lyle were blood related. Which you are, in
a way, you have the same DNA as his mother, but seems as you were too young for
that possibility, the natural assumption is that you were brother and sister..."
"This just gets more and more freaky," December said darkly. Miss Parker put
her head in her hands, trembling slightly.
"So where do I come from? What am I?" she asked weakly.
"You are one of us," December said, "You came from your mother, and just not in
the way you thought."
"And what are we supposed to do now?"
December's mouth hardened into a thin line, and she leaned forward,
touching Parker's arm reassuringly. Parker lifted her head, and December
nodded, a strange glitter in her eyes. "We find the bastards who created us,"
she said, "And we make them pay."
****
They had decided to retire for the night, to be fresh and ready to work on
a plan of action the following day. Miss Parker sat in the dark bedroom for a
while, listening as Jarod ran a bath in their shared bathroom. Feeling
incredibly morose, she crept downstairs through the dark house, stepping out
into the night air. It was almost the beginning of spring, and the air felt
crisp and clean. Stepping out barefoot into the yard, she gazed up at the night
sky, at the brilliant spread of stars in the night sky.
"You know, it's funny..." a soft voice said, "For a moment I couldn't tell
whether you were September or January."
December detached herself from the shadows of a tree, walking towards her
slowly, and Parker could make out the faint glow of a cigarette between her
fingers. She frowned, "Don't call me that."
"Why not?" the other woman asked, "It's your name, isn't it?"
"It's a label that tells the world I am a-!" Parker paused, and took a heavy
breath, "That tells the world I'm a clone."
December shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what you are. Denial will only
cause you grief."
"It's what I am, but not *all* that I am. I won't be compressed into a label,"
Miss Parker said fiercely. December nodded slowly.
They stood in silence for several moments, both of their faces upturned to
the night sky. After a while, Miss Parker nodded at the cigarette in December's
hand, "Aren't you going to smoke that?"
"No," December said ruefully, "I'm not a smoker. It wasn't allowed at Luneta.
I like to hold one, to break their rules... I suppose it is another form of
rejection. You don't use the name they gave you, and I don't use the rules they
gave me."
"The smallest of rebellions are the most important ones," Miss Parker said. She
watched December curiously, "You broke a lot of rules there?"
December gave a soft, self-deprecatory laugh. "More than they ever knew.
I was never what they wanted me to be. Sandra, my last handler, used to call me
a 'free spirit'. She told me no walls could keep me in," December sobered,
dropping her cigarette and putting it out with her boot, "Sandra said a lot of
things."
"She was the one who helped you escape?" Miss Parker asked. Something in her
tone had rung a little bell.
"Yes. Sandra. She's the only one who ever showed me any love or affection in
my whole life. In the end, that was what got her killed," December said softly.
"She was your lover," Miss Parker said, the answer dawning on her. The other
woman gave her a sidelong glance, her eyes shining with sadness in the darkness.
"Yes," she said, and nothing more.
They watched the stars together in companionable silence. Finally Parker
turned to go inside, but took December's hand in her own before she left,
squeezing briefly. When she turned to look back over her shoulder at the door,
December was once again merging with the shadows of the tree, a cigarette
glowing in her hand.
Miss Parker crept upstairs, feeling strangely peaceful. It was as if,
after a long period of darkness, a light had been lit before her. She was
finally beginning to understand the loneliness that had eaten away at her for
her whole life, the loneliness that had eased just a little bit when she saw
September and December earlier that afternoon. She was just one fragment of a
much bigger picture. Only one of twelve parts.
Upstairs, Miss Parker shed her clothes, donning the robe that Jarod had
kindly left for her in a bag of clothes. She ran a brush through her hair very
quickly, and paused to gaze at herself in the mirror. Just like Mama, she
thought, and headed for the bathroom.
Opening the door and stepping inside, she was assaulted by steam and the
scent of soap. Jarod, whom she had forgotten all about, was still using the
bathroom. It appeared he had finished his bath, and he now stood over the sink
wearing only a towel, shaving cream covering his jaw. All the heat lamps were
on, and his golden body was covered in moisture, his wet hair spiky, as if he
had just run his fingers through it. He turned to look at Miss Parker in
surprise, a razor raised halfway to his face.
"Hello," Jarod said softly.
"Hello," she said.
Parker's gaze dropped to his chest, and the dark, curling hair that was
scattered over it. The last time she had seen him shirtless, he had been
covered in slowly fading bruises, and was quite underweight and unfit. He had
obviously been working out since then, muscles rippling underneath his tanned
skin. He flushed under her attention, turning back to the mirror self-
consciously.
"I'll be done in a minute," he muttered gruffly, raising the razor to his face.
He tried to shave the area around his split lip, but hissed with pain.
"Here. Let me," Miss Parker said swiftly, taking the razor from his hands.
Jarod blinked slowly, allowing her to guide him to sit in a chair that she
pulled out of the corner and close to the sink of warm water.
"You gave me the split lip, I suppose you should be the one to make sure I don't
rip it off with the razor," Jarod said, a weak attempt at humour, but she
ignored him.
Parker eased herself between Jarod's legs, entirely too aware that the
moisture in the air was causing her silk robe to stick to her skin, starkly
outlining her every curve. Gently she tipped Jarod's chin up with her finger,
gazing into his liquid brown eyes. She hesitated for a moment, and then set the
razor to his skin, scraping it down the line of his jaw.
Dipping the razor-head into the warm water, Parker repeated the process on
each side, until his cheeks were smooth. Placing her finger in the middle of
his bottom lip, she pressed up slightly, so the skin was taunted. With great
care she dragged the razor over his chin and down his neck, dipping it in the
water occasionally.
"You've done this before," Jarod said in a husky, teasing tone, and Parker tried
not to jump as she felt his hands settle on the backs of her thighs, drawing her
closer.
Gently she shaved his upper lip, being careful of his split lip, and then
set the razor aside, taking a washcloth. She washed away the last of the
shaving cream, and hardly noticed when the cloth dropped out of her hands, so
she was caressing his cheeks with the tips of her fingers. Her breathing was
shallow, her breasts feeling heavy and incredibly sensitized, her nipples
already tight with arousal.
"All done," she murmured breathily, and Jarod nodded.
"Aftershave," he said.
Not looking at the counter, Miss Parker reached out one hand and groped
blindly until she fount a square shaped glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and
held it under her nose - it was delicate and musky. She put a few drops on the
tips of her fingers and smoothed it over his face. Jarod's eyes widened
slightly at what surely must have been a stinging sensation.
"We should probably go to bed," Jarod said.
There was a beat.
"And not together," he added.
One of his hands left her thigh to settle on her cheek, cradling it
gently. Almost without her realizing it, Miss Parker began to lean down,
tilting her head. She stopped, when her mouth was barely an inch away from
Jarod's, and searched his eyes.
"Do we really want to start something we might never finish?" she asked.
"No," Jarod whispered in reply.
So slowly it felt as if she were hardly moving at all, Miss Parker pressed
her mouth to Jarod's. She paused, mindful of Jarod's split lip and holding back
for a moment, and then sweetly, chastely, began to move her mouth over his. His
hands tightened on her thigh and cheek, but neither pushed her away nor pulled
her closer. His lips parted, and she deepened the kiss slightly, sliding her
hand up his neck and into his wet hair.
Parker drew back, slightly breathless, opening her eyes to look into
Jarod's slumberous aroused ones. His gaze flicked down to her mouth and back up
again, his thumb dragging slowly across her cheekbone.
"Goodnight, Miss Parker," he said softly.
"Goodnight, Jarod," she whispered, and pressed another soft kiss to his mouth.
Miss Parker straightened up slowly; loathe to let the moment go. Jarod
stood as she backed away, holding his towel in place with one hand. He turned
to the door that led to his bedroom, and paused before opening it, not looking
at her.
"There's something between us, you know. Something that draws us together," he
murmured. Then he opened the door and disappeared into his own room, the door
closing softly behind him.
Mechanically, Miss Parker leaned into the shower stall and turned on the
hot water. She stepped back slowly, and raised her hand to touch her mouth,
smiling slightly. Crazy, just crazy.
****
Jarod leaned against the door and let out a deep breath. In the bathroom,
he heard the shower start up, and grinned in what he was sure was a foolish
manner. He ran his hand through his wet hair, and then fingered the smoothness
of his jaw. He let out a soft chuckle.
****
"Hold still," Jarod commanded, trying to keep the smile off his face. December
turned away from the window, smirking at the sight before her eyes. Jarod was
tying Miss Parker to a chair, and she didn't look very happy about it.
"I'm not into these kinky rope games," Parker said with dark amusement. Jarod
chuckled, checking his knots. December peered back out the window, her eyes on
September, who was sitting on the grass, her face upturned to the morning sun.
"Okay. Ready!" Jarod said cheerfully.
December turned to scrutinize him. He was standing beside Parker, who was
tied to one of the kitchen chairs. A careful makeup job had given Parker a
bruised eye and a small cut below her eye, so it appeared he had roughed her up
a bit. Her hair was tied back messily, and she looked for all the world like an
unwilling captive, except for the warm way she was gazing at her would-be
captor.
"You look too clean-cut, Jarod. Not nearly edgy enough," December mused.
Jarod nodded, mussing up his hair, and ruffling his clothes. He paused,
focusing for a moment, and then gave himself a gentle shake. When he looked up
again he seemed somehow worn and haggard, his expression slightly wild.
December nodded approvingly, and picked up her Polaroid camera as Jarod braced
himself on Miss Parker's chair, looming over her threateningly. He held up the
day's paper with one hand, so the headlines were clearly visible. December
raised the camera and took a shot.
Jarod dropped the paper, this time holding up a sign that read, 'Give me my
family and you'll get yours.' December took another shot, placing the square of
film aside to let it develop. Jarod dropped his sign and held up another, and
December started laughing. She took a shot, and chuckled as she shook it.
His new sign read, 'Please help me, Miss Parker is trying to jump my bones.'
"What? What's so funny?" Parker asked, and twisted around in the chair so she
could see Jarod's sign. She read it quickly and scowled, "Asshole!"
"All in good fun, Parker," Jarod said, setting about untying her.
December put down her camera, looking over the pictures. They looked
good, and certainly realistic. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jarod help
Miss Parker stand, and they stood very close for a few seconds, her hands still
in his.
"Why not use the digital camera?" September asked from the doorway, and Parker
and Jarod stepped away from each other quickly.
"Misdirection, my dear," December said lavishly, and tossed all three shots to
Jarod.
"It buys us time," he explained, "If I send it in the mail, I have to have it
redirected a few times, which means it will take a couple of days to get there.
That gives us a few more days, but has the added advantage of keeping them out
of date, wondering what my next move will be. And... well, plain old dramatic
affect."
"Sydney and Broots will be worried about me. I don't like it," Miss Parker
said, frowning.
Jarod looked down at the third Polaroid, tucking it in his back pocket. He put
the other two in an envelope, "I know. We'll talk to them tomorrow, if you
like. They might be able to help."
"Who is this Sydney and Broots?" December asked sharply, "I don't want anyone
that could endanger us to know."
"They will only be of help," Jarod assured. December shared a lingering look
with September, which Jarod didn't catch, "Are we ready?"
September let out a deep breath, nodding. December nodded too. They
followed Jarod into the kitchen, to where their three laptops had been setup, a
LAN hub on the middle of the table. They sat down, Miss Parker dragging a chair
up next to Jarod. They all began to open separate programs.
"Remember," Jarod said, "If you think you're being traced, back out. We'll find
another way. I'll concentrate on the Centre's mainframe, I'm more familiar with
it."
"I'll go after Alkina," September said.
"And I Luneta," December said.
"Anything and everything," Parker said in a harsh whisper, "I want to know who
did this."
****
Lyle pulled up at his sister's house in the early morning, exiting his car
and nodding grimly at the sweeper who stood just outside the front door. On his
way in, he paused to study the lock briefly - no signs of a forced entry. He
took some gloves from his pocket, snapping them on as he stepped inside the dim
central living area. Broots and Sydney were already inside.
Stepping over the shards of shattered vase, he lifted the telephone
receiver and replaced it in its cradle. He lifted his sister's gun from where
it lay, still sheathed in its holster, and glanced up at Sydney, "So, you think
Jarod did this?"
"Yes," Sydney said reluctantly, holding out a piece of paper, "We found this on
the kitchen table."
Lyle unfolded the sheet of plain white paper - on it, Jarod's familiar
handwriting. 'You will get your family back when I get mine,' it read, and was
signed, quite simply, '-J.'
Lyle said nothing, merely refolding the note and tucking it into his
jacket pocket. He looked back and forth from Sydney to Broots, awaiting
answers.
"Well, uh, at least we know he is back in the country..." Broots said, and
shrugged miserably.
"Your pet project is on dangerous terrain, Syd," Lyle snapped, "What the hell
made him think he could get away with this?"
"I don't know," Sydney said, sounding very, very sad, "This is totally unlike
Jarod. Normally he would not resort to such extreme measures-"
"Then something must have made him snap!" Lyle interrupted. He turned on his
heel, dismissing the two other men curtly, "Find him, and my sister, before he
develops a taste for blood."
****
Parker felt hazy awareness filtering over her slowly, a sensation of
motion and the distant sound of voices. She tried to speak, but couldn't get a
sound out past the thickness in her throat and an ache in her head. She
struggled to open her eyes, squinting at a sharp, painful bright light.
"...the hotel, she let me escape, but promised it was the end of our truce..." a
male voice was saying. Jarod, Miss Parker realized, the voice belonged to
Jarod, as did the blurry face somewhere above her.
She groaned, twisting her head and inhaling sharply, catching the scent of
male cologne and a faint wisp of soap and sweat. Her head was in his lap, her
nose against his thigh. She turned her head to look at him again as he stopped
talking, bending over to look at her. She felt the warmth of his palm on her
forehead, his thumbs lifting her eyelids one by one.
"Pass me the needle, would you? I'd prefer to keep her out, for the moment..."
he murmured, and she heard a female affirmative response.
"No. No, you bastard!" she managed to hiss, and Jarod made shushing noises as
he held her steady. There was a gentle prick in one arm, and her eyes welled
with tears. The last thing she felt before she passed out was Jarod's palm
gently stroking her hair, his mouth brushing across her temple.
****
They had rented a farmhouse in Nevada, a few hours out of Las Vegas and in
the middle of nowhere. They had enough supplies to last them a month, a
satellite Internet connection and one car, which Jarod had hidden the keys for.
December and September had promised to aid and assist Jarod in case Miss Parker
got violent.
Which he doubted. But he still wasn't taking any chances.
Climbing the stairs, Jarod pushed open the door of the bedroom that had
been assigned to her. He had noticed her stirring slightly the last time he had
checked up on her, and expected her to be awake soon. He crept into the room,
noticing she lay in exactly the same position as when he had laid her there
several hours ago; on her back, her arms by her side, head on the pillow.
Jarod leant over her, searching her face for any sign of alertness.
Parker looked unnaturally still, he thought, her pale face slack, and there was
no movement under her lids. With a start, he noticed she didn't appear to be
breathing, her chest no longer rising and falling as it had earlier. Kneeling
beside her on the bed, his hand shaking, Jarod placed his hand to her throat,
searching desperately for a pulse, wondering if he had fumbled the dosage of the
sedatives he'd used.
Parker's eyes snapped open just as he found a strong, rapid beat, her hand
grabbing his wrist in a claw-like grasp. They stared at each other for a
moment, and then she sucked in a deep breath.
"You scared me!" Jarod accused.
"You kidnapped me," Miss Parker said, and brought her knee up between his
thighs.
Gasping with pain, Jarod dropped heavily on top of her as she tried to
roll away, pinning her to the bed. She snarled with fury, and Jarod let out a
soft groan of pain, grabbing her wrists as she tried to shove him off her. They
grappled, Jarod managing to get a hold of her wrists and pushing them up above
her head. He forced his knees between hers, lying with his pelvis against hers.
There was a moment of silence, and he dropped his face to the pillow beside her
head, breathing harshly with pain and effort.
"Not nice, Miss Parker," he said after a moment. She bucked against him,
attempting to dislodge him.
"You fucking broke into my house and kidnapped me!" she snarled.
"You know I wouldn't do it without a damn good reason," he muttered.
"The minute you let me go I'm going to cut your throat and string you up by the
balls," Parker said dangerously.
"I need your help," Jarod said.
"You prick-!" Parker began, but he cut her off.
"This concerns you, Miss Parker. I wish it didn't," he murmured. He turned his
head even more, so his nose brushed her ear now. He was suddenly quite
conscious of the intimate position they were in.
"You couldn't tell me in a phone call?!" she asked incredulously. Jarod raised
his torso so he could look down into her eyes, their faces only a few inches
apart.
"You're not going to react well to what I have to tell you. I wanted you to be
somewhere where you wouldn't do anything stupid," he said seriously.
"What?" she asked. Jarod gave her a measuring look.
"If I get off you, you have to promise not to hurt me," he said warningly.
Parker nodded slowly.
Gingerly, Jarod eased himself up and away from her, sinking back onto his
knees in front of her. Parker scrambled upright, quickly straightening her
clothes and running her hand over her hair. She cradled her temple for a
moment, and Jarod grimaced sympathetically.
"Sorry ... the drugs... I'll get you an aspirin," he said apologetically.
He climbed off the bed, stepping quickly into the adjoining bathroom, which was
shared with his own room, and retrieved a couple of aspirin and a glass of
water. Before he returned to the other room he checked the mirror, touching his
swollen lip lightly - it was from when Miss Parker had hit him while they
struggled in her house. The lip was split, and it was slightly painful to talk,
but nothing he couldn't handle. With a shrug, he returned to the bedroom with
the aspirin.
Parker swallowed them dry when he passed them to her, and then drank deeply from
the water. When she had set the glass on the bedside table, she crossed her
arms over her chest and watched him expectantly. He smiled weakly, running a
hand through his hair.
"You don't... you don't have to worry about the Centre thinking you've run away
with me. I came up with a viable solution, letting them think I've kidnapped
you in a desperate attempt to get information on my family," Jarod explained
haltingly, but Miss Parker remained unimpressed.
"Great. So what the hell am I doing here, Jarod?" she asked bluntly. He bit
his lip, staring down at his hands thoughtfully - now that the time had come, he
couldn't quite find the words to explain it to her.
"I stumbled across something - completely by accident - that is... monumental,"
he said, measuring his words carefully. Miss Parker eyed him expectantly.
"And what does this have to do with me?"
Jarod opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when a knock sounded at
the door. He closed his mouth abruptly. He supposed there was no better way to
explain than with cold hard fact, and crossed the room to stand by Parker, who
was still sitting on the bed. She looked up at him coldly.
"Come in," he called.
The door swung open slowly, and December and September entered the room.
September was looking her usual solemn self, her long hair half-covering her
face, covered from neck to ankle in an oversized sweater and a long skirt. She
stood timidly in the room, eyeing Miss Parker with nervous curiosity. December
was more confidant, brazenly stepping into the room and settling her hands on
her hips. She had her hair up in a high ponytail, and was wearing a tank top
with the Union Jack on it and some faded jeans.
Parker dropped her glass, not registering when it shattered on the
hardwood floor. She stared at her two counterparts, her mouth open, and slowly
began to shake her head.
"No... no, no, NO!" she cried. She leapt to her feet, and then paused, as if
unsure of what to do. Jarod placed a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Parker, I want you to meet December, on the left, and September, on the
right," he said grimly.
"You are January," December said, and it wasn't a question. Parker turned to
look at Jarod, tears streaming down her face.
"How could they do this?" she asked, "How *could* they?"
"January?" September said hesitantly, "It's okay, really..."
"Don't CALL me that!" Parker cried, and whirled around, lunging for the other
woman, hands outstretched.
Jarod caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest,
holding her as she struggled and growled. A moment later the fight seemed to go
out of her, and she slumped, crying brokenly. Jarod eased them both to the
floor, pulling her onto his lap and rocking her gently as she sobbed.
December and September sat down opposite them, examining the woman he held
in his arms. Parker turned her head away from them, so her face rested in the
curve of his neck, and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin.
After a few moments she quieted, leaning heavily into him and turning slowly to
look at September and December.
"I'm not even the original, am I?" she asked. September shook her head
mournfully.
December held out her hand, showing a single, white scar running across
the top of her index finger, just above the first knuckle. Reluctantly, Miss
Parker took off the silver ring on the index finger of her left hand, revealing
an identical scar, small and clean and precise, as if it were a marking of some
kind.
"Everybody always commented on how much I look like Mama," she said bitterly,
and pushed the ring back into place.
"I'm sorry," Jarod said softly.
"Nothing," Miss Parker said flatly, "Nothing can ever make this better."
****
"Anything?" Lyle asked. It had been three days since Jarod had stolen his
sister, and now he stood in the sim lab, on the observation deck. Below him,
Sydney, Broots and Angelo huddled, looking miserable.
"We were just about to give Angelo the note Jarod left," Sydney said.
"There have been no sightings of Jarod at any airports or bus terminals," Broots
said.
"Of course not," Lyle snapped impatiently, descending to their level, "He's got
an unwilling captive to drag around with him. Give freak boy the damn note."
Angelo flinched away as Lyle drew closer, but accepted the note Sydney
offered. He ran his fingers over the writing, flicking his head and blinking
rapidly.
"Jarod angry," he said, and squinted his eyes in concentration, "Angry, sad. No
more. No more."
Lyle tightened his jaw, snatching the note away from the savant in
disgust. "Nothing we didn't know already. Jarod has lost it!" he exclaimed,
throwing up his hands.
"Jarod wouldn't have-" Sydney began, but Lyle glared him into silence.
"Jarod *has*. My father will *not* be pleased if your little science experiment
starts killing off operatives," Lyle said. He gave them another last hard
stare, "The moment you have something, I want to know about it."
****
They sat around the kitchen table with cups of coffee. Miss Parker
couldn't help but stare at December and September, unable to come to terms with
what her sight was telling her. They were clones. *She* was a clone.
"Daddy....He told me never to use my first name. I never understood why,
because Mama told me it was he who had chosen that name..." she said, and shook
her head.
"They're designated names. We are only distinguishable because of the month and
country we were raised in," December said.
"He must have known. He knew you were what you were. Probably signed all the
forms himself," Jarod said angrily.
"But he didn't want me to go by my code name, by the name that identified me as
a... as a..." Miss Parker said, but found she just couldn't say the word. She
skipped over it determinedly, "He wanted me to be different. That has to count
for something."
"The result is still the same," Jarod said softly. She stared at him for a long
moment, hurt and loss on her face.
"He's not my father," she said flatly, and then shook her head in confusion, "We
can't even be related... it doesn't make sense! How do you explain Lyle?"
"Who is Lyle?" September asked, with a strange expression on her face, which
Parker ignored.
"My brother. My *twin* brother. How is that even possible?" she asked, and
Jarod tilted his head thoughtfully.
"The only thing I can think of is that your mother was impregnated at almost the
same time as a fertilized egg was placed in her womb. Perhaps was already
pregnant..." he said.
"But the blood test..." Parker said helplessly.
"The blood test showed that you and Lyle were blood related. Which you are, in
a way, you have the same DNA as his mother, but seems as you were too young for
that possibility, the natural assumption is that you were brother and sister..."
"This just gets more and more freaky," December said darkly. Miss Parker put
her head in her hands, trembling slightly.
"So where do I come from? What am I?" she asked weakly.
"You are one of us," December said, "You came from your mother, and just not in
the way you thought."
"And what are we supposed to do now?"
December's mouth hardened into a thin line, and she leaned forward,
touching Parker's arm reassuringly. Parker lifted her head, and December
nodded, a strange glitter in her eyes. "We find the bastards who created us,"
she said, "And we make them pay."
****
They had decided to retire for the night, to be fresh and ready to work on
a plan of action the following day. Miss Parker sat in the dark bedroom for a
while, listening as Jarod ran a bath in their shared bathroom. Feeling
incredibly morose, she crept downstairs through the dark house, stepping out
into the night air. It was almost the beginning of spring, and the air felt
crisp and clean. Stepping out barefoot into the yard, she gazed up at the night
sky, at the brilliant spread of stars in the night sky.
"You know, it's funny..." a soft voice said, "For a moment I couldn't tell
whether you were September or January."
December detached herself from the shadows of a tree, walking towards her
slowly, and Parker could make out the faint glow of a cigarette between her
fingers. She frowned, "Don't call me that."
"Why not?" the other woman asked, "It's your name, isn't it?"
"It's a label that tells the world I am a-!" Parker paused, and took a heavy
breath, "That tells the world I'm a clone."
December shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what you are. Denial will only
cause you grief."
"It's what I am, but not *all* that I am. I won't be compressed into a label,"
Miss Parker said fiercely. December nodded slowly.
They stood in silence for several moments, both of their faces upturned to
the night sky. After a while, Miss Parker nodded at the cigarette in December's
hand, "Aren't you going to smoke that?"
"No," December said ruefully, "I'm not a smoker. It wasn't allowed at Luneta.
I like to hold one, to break their rules... I suppose it is another form of
rejection. You don't use the name they gave you, and I don't use the rules they
gave me."
"The smallest of rebellions are the most important ones," Miss Parker said. She
watched December curiously, "You broke a lot of rules there?"
December gave a soft, self-deprecatory laugh. "More than they ever knew.
I was never what they wanted me to be. Sandra, my last handler, used to call me
a 'free spirit'. She told me no walls could keep me in," December sobered,
dropping her cigarette and putting it out with her boot, "Sandra said a lot of
things."
"She was the one who helped you escape?" Miss Parker asked. Something in her
tone had rung a little bell.
"Yes. Sandra. She's the only one who ever showed me any love or affection in
my whole life. In the end, that was what got her killed," December said softly.
"She was your lover," Miss Parker said, the answer dawning on her. The other
woman gave her a sidelong glance, her eyes shining with sadness in the darkness.
"Yes," she said, and nothing more.
They watched the stars together in companionable silence. Finally Parker
turned to go inside, but took December's hand in her own before she left,
squeezing briefly. When she turned to look back over her shoulder at the door,
December was once again merging with the shadows of the tree, a cigarette
glowing in her hand.
Miss Parker crept upstairs, feeling strangely peaceful. It was as if,
after a long period of darkness, a light had been lit before her. She was
finally beginning to understand the loneliness that had eaten away at her for
her whole life, the loneliness that had eased just a little bit when she saw
September and December earlier that afternoon. She was just one fragment of a
much bigger picture. Only one of twelve parts.
Upstairs, Miss Parker shed her clothes, donning the robe that Jarod had
kindly left for her in a bag of clothes. She ran a brush through her hair very
quickly, and paused to gaze at herself in the mirror. Just like Mama, she
thought, and headed for the bathroom.
Opening the door and stepping inside, she was assaulted by steam and the
scent of soap. Jarod, whom she had forgotten all about, was still using the
bathroom. It appeared he had finished his bath, and he now stood over the sink
wearing only a towel, shaving cream covering his jaw. All the heat lamps were
on, and his golden body was covered in moisture, his wet hair spiky, as if he
had just run his fingers through it. He turned to look at Miss Parker in
surprise, a razor raised halfway to his face.
"Hello," Jarod said softly.
"Hello," she said.
Parker's gaze dropped to his chest, and the dark, curling hair that was
scattered over it. The last time she had seen him shirtless, he had been
covered in slowly fading bruises, and was quite underweight and unfit. He had
obviously been working out since then, muscles rippling underneath his tanned
skin. He flushed under her attention, turning back to the mirror self-
consciously.
"I'll be done in a minute," he muttered gruffly, raising the razor to his face.
He tried to shave the area around his split lip, but hissed with pain.
"Here. Let me," Miss Parker said swiftly, taking the razor from his hands.
Jarod blinked slowly, allowing her to guide him to sit in a chair that she
pulled out of the corner and close to the sink of warm water.
"You gave me the split lip, I suppose you should be the one to make sure I don't
rip it off with the razor," Jarod said, a weak attempt at humour, but she
ignored him.
Parker eased herself between Jarod's legs, entirely too aware that the
moisture in the air was causing her silk robe to stick to her skin, starkly
outlining her every curve. Gently she tipped Jarod's chin up with her finger,
gazing into his liquid brown eyes. She hesitated for a moment, and then set the
razor to his skin, scraping it down the line of his jaw.
Dipping the razor-head into the warm water, Parker repeated the process on
each side, until his cheeks were smooth. Placing her finger in the middle of
his bottom lip, she pressed up slightly, so the skin was taunted. With great
care she dragged the razor over his chin and down his neck, dipping it in the
water occasionally.
"You've done this before," Jarod said in a husky, teasing tone, and Parker tried
not to jump as she felt his hands settle on the backs of her thighs, drawing her
closer.
Gently she shaved his upper lip, being careful of his split lip, and then
set the razor aside, taking a washcloth. She washed away the last of the
shaving cream, and hardly noticed when the cloth dropped out of her hands, so
she was caressing his cheeks with the tips of her fingers. Her breathing was
shallow, her breasts feeling heavy and incredibly sensitized, her nipples
already tight with arousal.
"All done," she murmured breathily, and Jarod nodded.
"Aftershave," he said.
Not looking at the counter, Miss Parker reached out one hand and groped
blindly until she fount a square shaped glass bottle. She unscrewed the cap and
held it under her nose - it was delicate and musky. She put a few drops on the
tips of her fingers and smoothed it over his face. Jarod's eyes widened
slightly at what surely must have been a stinging sensation.
"We should probably go to bed," Jarod said.
There was a beat.
"And not together," he added.
One of his hands left her thigh to settle on her cheek, cradling it
gently. Almost without her realizing it, Miss Parker began to lean down,
tilting her head. She stopped, when her mouth was barely an inch away from
Jarod's, and searched his eyes.
"Do we really want to start something we might never finish?" she asked.
"No," Jarod whispered in reply.
So slowly it felt as if she were hardly moving at all, Miss Parker pressed
her mouth to Jarod's. She paused, mindful of Jarod's split lip and holding back
for a moment, and then sweetly, chastely, began to move her mouth over his. His
hands tightened on her thigh and cheek, but neither pushed her away nor pulled
her closer. His lips parted, and she deepened the kiss slightly, sliding her
hand up his neck and into his wet hair.
Parker drew back, slightly breathless, opening her eyes to look into
Jarod's slumberous aroused ones. His gaze flicked down to her mouth and back up
again, his thumb dragging slowly across her cheekbone.
"Goodnight, Miss Parker," he said softly.
"Goodnight, Jarod," she whispered, and pressed another soft kiss to his mouth.
Miss Parker straightened up slowly; loathe to let the moment go. Jarod
stood as she backed away, holding his towel in place with one hand. He turned
to the door that led to his bedroom, and paused before opening it, not looking
at her.
"There's something between us, you know. Something that draws us together," he
murmured. Then he opened the door and disappeared into his own room, the door
closing softly behind him.
Mechanically, Miss Parker leaned into the shower stall and turned on the
hot water. She stepped back slowly, and raised her hand to touch her mouth,
smiling slightly. Crazy, just crazy.
****
Jarod leaned against the door and let out a deep breath. In the bathroom,
he heard the shower start up, and grinned in what he was sure was a foolish
manner. He ran his hand through his wet hair, and then fingered the smoothness
of his jaw. He let out a soft chuckle.
****
"Hold still," Jarod commanded, trying to keep the smile off his face. December
turned away from the window, smirking at the sight before her eyes. Jarod was
tying Miss Parker to a chair, and she didn't look very happy about it.
"I'm not into these kinky rope games," Parker said with dark amusement. Jarod
chuckled, checking his knots. December peered back out the window, her eyes on
September, who was sitting on the grass, her face upturned to the morning sun.
"Okay. Ready!" Jarod said cheerfully.
December turned to scrutinize him. He was standing beside Parker, who was
tied to one of the kitchen chairs. A careful makeup job had given Parker a
bruised eye and a small cut below her eye, so it appeared he had roughed her up
a bit. Her hair was tied back messily, and she looked for all the world like an
unwilling captive, except for the warm way she was gazing at her would-be
captor.
"You look too clean-cut, Jarod. Not nearly edgy enough," December mused.
Jarod nodded, mussing up his hair, and ruffling his clothes. He paused,
focusing for a moment, and then gave himself a gentle shake. When he looked up
again he seemed somehow worn and haggard, his expression slightly wild.
December nodded approvingly, and picked up her Polaroid camera as Jarod braced
himself on Miss Parker's chair, looming over her threateningly. He held up the
day's paper with one hand, so the headlines were clearly visible. December
raised the camera and took a shot.
Jarod dropped the paper, this time holding up a sign that read, 'Give me my
family and you'll get yours.' December took another shot, placing the square of
film aside to let it develop. Jarod dropped his sign and held up another, and
December started laughing. She took a shot, and chuckled as she shook it.
His new sign read, 'Please help me, Miss Parker is trying to jump my bones.'
"What? What's so funny?" Parker asked, and twisted around in the chair so she
could see Jarod's sign. She read it quickly and scowled, "Asshole!"
"All in good fun, Parker," Jarod said, setting about untying her.
December put down her camera, looking over the pictures. They looked
good, and certainly realistic. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jarod help
Miss Parker stand, and they stood very close for a few seconds, her hands still
in his.
"Why not use the digital camera?" September asked from the doorway, and Parker
and Jarod stepped away from each other quickly.
"Misdirection, my dear," December said lavishly, and tossed all three shots to
Jarod.
"It buys us time," he explained, "If I send it in the mail, I have to have it
redirected a few times, which means it will take a couple of days to get there.
That gives us a few more days, but has the added advantage of keeping them out
of date, wondering what my next move will be. And... well, plain old dramatic
affect."
"Sydney and Broots will be worried about me. I don't like it," Miss Parker
said, frowning.
Jarod looked down at the third Polaroid, tucking it in his back pocket. He put
the other two in an envelope, "I know. We'll talk to them tomorrow, if you
like. They might be able to help."
"Who is this Sydney and Broots?" December asked sharply, "I don't want anyone
that could endanger us to know."
"They will only be of help," Jarod assured. December shared a lingering look
with September, which Jarod didn't catch, "Are we ready?"
September let out a deep breath, nodding. December nodded too. They
followed Jarod into the kitchen, to where their three laptops had been setup, a
LAN hub on the middle of the table. They sat down, Miss Parker dragging a chair
up next to Jarod. They all began to open separate programs.
"Remember," Jarod said, "If you think you're being traced, back out. We'll find
another way. I'll concentrate on the Centre's mainframe, I'm more familiar with
it."
"I'll go after Alkina," September said.
"And I Luneta," December said.
"Anything and everything," Parker said in a harsh whisper, "I want to know who
did this."
****