Twist of Fate: Chapter 17
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
As the sun peaked in its position in the sky, its cold light filtered through the large windows that lined the massive entryway into the fortress known as the Centre. The natural lighting caused the marble to sparkle under the bright rays, little motes of dust catching in the sunlight and falling softly to the floor. Entranced, Miss Parker noted these small signs of beauty in a place of such ugly bitterness as she crossed the large domain, her heels clicking hollowly on the hard floor.
"The building was cleaned of all traces," the man beside her continued to drone on, oblivious to the fact that he held less than her full attention. Then again, she already knew what the Cleaner would report. It was always the same with Jarod. They would find his bread crumb just in time to reach his long-abandoned hiding hole, finding only the traces that he wished to leave them with. Jarod was nothing else if not thorough.
"Miss Parker!"
Startled from her reverie, the leggy brunette turned away from her companion and watched as Broots hurried across the lobby, slipping occasionally on the slick marble floor to come to an undignified slide against her side. "Careful, Broots!" she snapped, quickly stepping away while adjusting the short hem of her skirt. Lifting her eyes, she noted the attention his entrance had gained. Sighing, she nodded to the cleaner who took his cue and continued on his way. "What?" she demanded, turning back to the computer technician with a tired glare.
"I figured out Jarod's clue!" the man continued as though he hadn't even noticed her scathing glance. He was probably so accustomed to her harsh words and unjustified anger by this point that such acts didn't even faze him... much.
"And where does Jarod want us to run to this time? Atlanta? Philadelphia? Boston?" she asked, her arms crossing wearily over her body. They had barely even had time to recuperate from their last jaunt across the continent after the pretender and she was hardly looking forward to a repeat of their last wasted effort.
"Nope, Alma College," Broots replied while shuffling a small mountain of paper in his hands. "It's a small, private college in the middle of Michigan. The school's records have a listing of a guest professor, Professor Jarod Sifter of the Science Department."
"Sifter?" she murmured, her eyes betraying her skepticism as she turned and continued across the large lobby, Broots hurrying to keep up. "And what brings Jarod to middle Michigan?"
"The Pine River - the school is heading up the clean up of the river. It's one of the most polluted rivers in the country thanks to a large chemical and petrol company that were based in the small town."
"And so now Jarod is playing the environmentalist? Sifter, right?" Miss Parker surmised, a wry grin lifting her lips.
"Did I overhear correctly?" a new voice interrupted, causing a fierce scowl to twist Miss Parker's thinly-painted lips.
"Didn't you learn that eavesdropping is considered rude in most countries?" she returned evenly, turning to spare a patented glare for her brother and Mr. Raines, who came squeaking up to join their little party.
"Lucky for us that my sister is Miss Manners," Lyle laughed, a bright smile lifting his lips. "And with Jarod on the radar, it seems that this is the perfect opportunity to test our latest project," he continued, winking broadly at his sister as Raines shifted slightly beside him.
"P.. project?" Broots squeaked, his eyes skipping over to take in Miss Parker's small frown.
"Yes, Project Aradia. You may have seen mention of it," Lyle added, his smile turning cold as he leveled a glare worthy of Miss Parker on the computer technician. As the man balked under his gaze, Lyle reached forward and snatched the papers from the man's hands. "And with Sydney out for the day, I guess that just leaves you and me, Sis," he said, his eyes containing a question that Broots didn't understand.
"Bu-"
"That will be all, Mr. Broots," Lyle cut in, his tone sharp as he nodded curtly at the technician, clearly giving his dismissal. "I'll have the jet prepared. Twenty minutes," he added, nodding once more to his sister before turning on his heel and moving away, Mr. Raines making his noisy way after.
"What was that all about?" Broots whispered, his shoulders sagging in relief as he turned his eyes back to the woman who still stood beside him, her eyes locked on their retreating backs.
"A deal made with the Devil," she murmured, her voice so low that he had to strain to hear her. "A deal with the Devil," she repeated before slowly turning and walking away, leaving him alone in the great hall.
"Damnit!" Miss Parker cursed, her breath catching in her throat as she hurried into the small office, her eyes sweeping over the littered confines. It looked as though Jarod had left in a hurry. Instead of the usual tidy remains and small clue that Jarod usually left, the room was filled with texts, papers, and old coffee cups, piled on every surface in the room and some scattering on the floor. With two long strides she quickly crossed the room and wrenched the single window open, a biting winter wind stealing through and stinging her face with its ferocity. Ignoring winter's bite, she leaned out, her eyes tracing over the empty campus until they lit upon Jarod's tall figure, casually making his way down the icy sidewalk. And then, as if he had heard her earlier curse, he quickly turned his head, caught her eye, and then broke into a run. Fighting off another wave of curses, she turned and hurried towards the door, stopping as her brother's lean frame filled the doorway before her. "Move your ass and we still might catch him!" she hissed, aiming to shove him back, only to be pushed firmly to the side in return. "What are you doing?" she demanded, watching in disbelief as he casually strolled to the open window, idly glancing outside before turning back towards her.
"Slayer," he called out, causing Miss Parker to draw back even further as a new person entered the room. Recoiling, she watched as Lyle's new toy moved to his side with a cat-like grace that defied humanity. The girl looked the same as the first time that Miss Parker had met her.. for the most part. Her long blonde hair had been secured back from her face in a tight French braid and loose fitting black cargo pants rustled as she moved. She wore a tight fitting black, long-sleeved shirt with a black down-vest over top. With the small boots on her feet the girl gave off a utilitarian, military look - probably a far cry from what most other people her age were wearing on the small college campus. Not as though they had seen very many students since entering. Apparently the campus was still on their Christmas break. Yet while the girl seemed the same picture of fitness and health that she had been when they had met all those months ago, the thing that made Miss Parker recoil from her was the deadened look in her eyes. She had made the mistake of meeting the Slayer's eyes only once, and it was a mistake that she wasn't going to repeat.
Per Lyle's order, she had made her way to the Centre's jet within twenty minutes, only slightly surprised to find the two additions to their usual Sweeper team: the girl and a very angry Mr. Raines.
"She's not ready!" Raines hissed, his eyes darting back and forth between the girl's vacant eyes and those of Mr. Lyle. "Her will is s tronger than anticipated and it's taken us three times the amount of time planned in order to bring her to this stage. If we had done it my way she would have been ready within days-"
"And I already told you that I don't want to completely ruin her unless it's absolutely necessary," Lyle cut in with a tired air that suggested that the two had had this conversation many times before. "And all of the tests show that she's ready for a field-"
"The subject is strong," Mr. Raines interrupted, his voice an angry wheeze. "Stronger than even we had anticipated. She may be able to throw it again if-"
"I said she's ready," Lyle interrupted in a tone that brooked no argument. "Slayer, get in the plane," he ordered, and to Miss Parker's disgusted amazement, the girl did directly as ordered. Turning, she moved away from the two, her eyes betraying not even a flicker of emotion as she boarded the plane.
It was the emotion - or lack thereof, that had startled Miss Parker the most. Even though it had been months ago, she could still remember the fire in the girl's eyes as she took down both Lyle and Sam without even breaking a sweat. Now, it was as though that fire had been extinguished, and unexpectedly, Miss Parker found that she hated herself even more for the small role that she played in this girl's plight.
"Slayer," Lyle continued when the girl reached his side, a smirk pulling at his lips and making it evident that he relished in his unwilling audience to this sick display. "Apprehend this man," he continued, flashing a picture of Jarod before the girl's eyes before waving his hand out the open window. "I want him unharmed and alive," he added. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," the girl murmured, her voice a hollow monotone as Lyle slowly stepped aside. And then, to Miss Parker's horror, the girl gripped the window ledge with her small hands and then vaulted over its sides, her blonde braid trailing after her.
Unable to stop herself, Miss Parker hurried to the window, sure that she would see the girl's form crumpled and broken on the icy walk two stories below. Instead, she found her eyes skipping over the rumpled snow and then on towards where the girl was hurtling after Jarod's retreating back with an inhuman speed.
"Neat, huh?" Lyle commented with a small smirk before turning and sauntering from the room.
As his breath left him in icy plumes, Jarod clutched a hand to his aching side, fighting the stitch that was growing as he continued to jog along the deserted walk. He was cutting it close, he knew, but he hadn't been expecting the Centre so soon. Apparently Broots was getting better at deciphering his clues than Jarod had given him credit for. But this small snag in his plans didn't mean anything, for no matter what, Jarod was always prepared for whatever contingency the Centre threw his way.
Well, almost.
The crunching of light feet on the snow behind him barely had time to register before Jarod felt as though he was being bowled over by a steam roller. Grunting he hit the snow and rolled in its white midst, kicking up a wave of the dusty particles. Groaning, he had time to wonder why he had ever considered snow to be soft before he slowly rolled over, blinking icy lashes before his vision finally found focus on a face from his past.
"Buffy?" he asked, his voice conveying his disbelief as Jarod slowly staggered to his feet, ignoring the snow that was caked on his long, dark jacket. But whatever answer he had been expecting never came as he noticed her deadened green eyes for the first time - eyes that flickered slightly before hardening into nothing. "Buffy?" he began again, warily advancing on her slender form, noting that her eyes shifted again at the mention of her name. Concerned, he began to reach for her when the muffled shouts of others caught his attention. Cursing, Jarod glanced back and watched as a swarm of black-clothed people poured out of the building he had been in and began running in their direction.
"Come on, we gotta go!" he murmured, quickly reaching out and snagging Buffy's arm in his, aiming to pull her to safety... only to jerk to halt at her unyielding form. It was like he was pulling on a steel pole, planted far in the earth. "Buffy, we have to go! It's the Centre!" he urged, tugging on her arm once again with the same dismal results. It was then, and only then, that his genius mind processed the facts that he had been desperate to ignore.
"No," he whispered, his words more of a sick plea than denial as he stepped closer, staring into her unblinking green eyes. Her empty green eyes. Closing his eyes against the sight, Jarod slowly backed away, his attention drawn once more to the group of Sweepers that were closing in on their position. Biting his lip, he turned back to Buffy and gently lifted her chin until he was staring into her empty eyes. "I'll be back for you. I promise. I'll make this right," he vowed before slowly forcing himself to turn away - only to stop as a small hand locked on his arm, holding him still. Surprised, Jarod glanced down at the small hand and then lifted his face to her unyielding gaze.
"Buffy?" he questioned, gently trying to pull his arm back - but while her grip wasn't painful, it was as though his arm was caught in a vise. "Buffy, you have to let me go!" he ordered, struggling uselessly to pull away as the voices drew ever closer. But he knew that there was no reasoning with her... there was no one to reason with. Instead, Jarod began to pull against her hold even more, beginning to get frantic as he struggled against her.
Growling in frustration, Jarod quickly changed tactics and unzipped his jacket, slipping from its warm confines and from her tight grip. Turning, he began to move through the deep snow, following the wall of a nearby building.
But just as Jarod thought that freedom could still be his, he sensed movement behind him as he was shoved against the very wall he was struggling beside. Grunting, Jarod felt the cold bite of brick against his cheek before he was quickly turned, a small hand moving up until it was locked in a flat palm against the base of his neck, thereby pinning him like a fly to the wall. "Buffy, you have to let me go," he murmured, struggling against her grip, her green eyes flickering slightly.
"But she won't," a new voice interrupted, instantly sending a wave of ice through every inch of Jarod's body. "At least not until I tell her to do so."
Slowly, Jarod pulled his eyes away from Buffy's green orbs and instead looked past her, seeing his worst fears confirmed as they were quickly flanked by a small team of Sweepers... and Mr. Lyle and Miss Parker. The Sweeper team wore no expression, their guns trained levelly on him. And while Mr. Lyle wore a look of immense satisfaction, Miss Parker's eyes continued to flick back and forth between him and his captor, her expression unreadable. "What have you done to her, Lyle?" Jarod asked, his eyes narrowing on the man.
"Shouldn't it be obvious? You're the genius, aren't you? Figure it out," he laughed, his smile turning twisted as he reached a leather-clad hand into the deep pockets of his long black coat.
"Programming," Jarod whispered, answering his own question as his eyes returned to Buffy's. Refusing to give in to the panic that was quickly flooding his veins, Jarod focused on her eyes, hoping to see something - any sign of life to give him hope. "Buffy, you have to fight this," hemurmured, his words meant only for her as he saw a flicker once more - a flicker of something that he prayed he didn't imagine. "You're stronger than this - stronger than him!" he urged, oblivious to the people that surrounded them. "They aren't here now," he continued, thinking back into his brief glimpse into the girl's mind from his pretend so long ago, "but your friends give you strength - even now. Your friends and family: Willow, Xander-"
"Giles," she whispered, surprising him with her words as her eyes slid shut, her hold loosening on him so imperceptibly that only he had noticed. And as a slight tremble shook her small frame, Buffy's eyes slid open once again. Only this time it was truly Buffy that gazed back at him - a Buffy whose eyes held so much confusion and pain that Jarod instantly felt his heart go out to her. "Jarod," she murmured, her voice a soft whisper that carried so much despair and... hopelessness. Defeat. But even as Jarod recognized the deadened look that her bright orbs contained, a new emotion seemed to fill her small body, causing her hold to tighten once more. "Run," she murmured, her eyes locking on his. "Save yourself," she whispered before she dropped her hold so fast that he could only stand there in stupefied shock.
"Slayer-" Lyle began, obviously just as startled by her sudden movement as the others. But before he could finish his order, Buffy had lashed out quicker than the eye could follow, a viscous kick sending the man flying to the snow covered ground.
"The name's Buffy," she hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously before she slowly turned, a deadly smile lifting her lips as she took in the group of armed men that surrounded her. "And I've been itching for some payback for quite a while now," she added, recognizing many of the men from her daily beating sessions. And with that, she quickly got down to business, lashing out with hands and feet and attempting to take down as many as possible before she was taken down herself. "I said, run!" she managed to call out, her eyes locking with Jarod's briefly as she dodged a clumsy punch and downed her opponent with a heavy boot to the abdomen.
Startled from his shocked stupor, Jarod quickly glanced to the sole other person not involved in this melodrama, his eyes fixing on Miss Parker. The woman was in shock, her gun held to the side and her eyes locked on the girl's inhuman speed. And then, her eyes slowly lifted and met with the Pretender's - eyes that held sorrow and shame. Yet Miss Parker didn't raise her gun and aim it at him. It seemed as though at this moment, she was incapable of continuing their game of the huntress and the hunted.
Nodding his head, Jarod slowly began backing away from the fracas, his eyes skipping from the battle to the parking lot only 100 meters away: his freedom. With shuffling steps that became more sure as the distance increased, Jarod began to make his getaway, his breath leaving him in thick, icy plumes. But as Buffy's voice rang out behind him, Jarod found his steps faltering until they stopped altogether. Turning slowly, Jarod watched as Mr. Lyle lowered a dart gun, a shaking hand reaching up to brush away a slimy trail of blood from his nose. And before him stood Buffy, a small hand slowly pulling the tiny dart from her neck, eyes locked on Mr. Lyle before she slowly stumbled and then fell to her knees on the snowy ground.
Biting his lip, Jarod knew that escape could still be his. Freedom could still be his. But not at this cost. Never at this cost. Just as it had been when he had witnessed Miss Parker's shooting, he couldn't just walk away from this. Turning, Jarod quickly began to jog back towards the group, idly watching as Miss Parker finally raised her gun, the pistol aimed in his direction. Ignoring her, he rushed past the groaning group of Sweepers and fell to his knees beside the small girl, gently lifting her head and cradling her in his arms. The fight had loosened her braid and long wisps of blonde pooled around her pale face, her eyes closed. Frantic, Jarod quickly bit the tip of his gloves and pulled the material away, pushing his warm hand against her neck and checking her pulse. "What did you give her?" he demanded, his voice sounding raw and angry as his eyes locked with Mr. Lyle's.
"A special formula cooked up just for her," came Lyle's muttered response, a piece of icy snow now being held against his bleeding nose - broken from the looks of it. Turning, he then nodded towards the team of Sweepers, finally back on their feet and reclaiming their weapons. "Get him," he muttered as two quickly broke away, grabbing Jarod by the arms and roughly pulling him away as two others hoisted Buffy's limp frame between them. From their rough handling, it was obvious that they were less than happy with their earlier beating.
Growling, Jarod twisted out of his captors' hands and surged towards the two other sweepers, shoving them aside and gently lifting the girl's unconscious form into his arms. Ignoring Lyle's snort of laughter, Jarod tightened his hold on Buffy's slim frame, his eyes turning from her pale face to lock on Miss Parker. Her eyes had never left him, continually following his movements with an expression that he couldn't read.
As two sweepers moved to intercept his actions once again, Miss Parker finally broke from her stupor. "Leave him," she ordered, her voice as cold as the winter wind as her eyes dared her brother to argue.
For a moment, it seemed as though he considered doing just that before Lyle shrugged his shoulders and nodded towards a black, windowless van in the nearby parking lot. "In the van," he ordered, watching as his team began herding Jarod towards the waiting vehicle. "Let's get out of here before the locals get curious. And by the way," he added, his eyes dancing to the pretender, "it's time to come home," he said, laughing once again as he parroted his sister's usual line, his eyes twinkling madly.
And as Jarod was slowly swallowed by the van's dark interior, Buffy still cradled against him, he knew that it would not be a pleasant homecoming... for either of them.