Title: Towers
Author: maestra
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Please note that the rating has been upgraded on this chapter to PG-13. That is due to references to two hot topics childhood sexual abuse and teen suicide in this chapter. Again I have tried to handle these topics sensitively, but I realize they may cause distress to some readers and felt you deserved fair warning.
Chapter 11: "Traces of A Life"
Broots took a hot shower to relax and then slipped into bed just after 2:00. It had been a long day. Since they had arrived in New York City at their hotel he had been searching the Internet, hacking into hotel computers to find out if Jarod had been registered at one of them the night he arrived, or dare they hope, he might still there. 'I'm getting old,' Broots thought, 'Mountain Dew doesn't have the kick it used to. And these late nights are getting hard on me.' He yawned, smiled wearily as he thought of Debbie. Glad she was home in Delaware safely removed from the City under siege. He rolled over on his side and drifted off to sleep.
***************************************************************
Sydney awoke early and turned on the television. He flipped through the many cable channels the hotel offered, but coverage of the terrorist attacks and the recovery efforts at the World Trade Center site was on nearly every channel. He watched closely when they showed the workers, hoping desperately for some sign of Jarod. But none of the workers they showed close-ups of looked enough like Jarod. 'What if he was among the missing? What if Jarod is really gone for good? Your usefulness to the Centre will be at an end. Jarod was your greatest achievement, your crowning glory to a long Centre career. But more than that, since his escape you know you have cheered for him against the Centre. Because through your protégé you could redeem yourself. You could finally give back to the world good things, for all the evil the Centre has done or made you do.'
Not liking the track his thoughts were taking, Sydney looked at the digital clock on the nightstand by his bed. 5:30 A.M. if he remembered correctly, the restaurant in the hotel here opened at 6:00 A.M. Allowing him just enough time to shower and dress. He just didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. Sydney threw back the covers and padded off in his black silk pajamas to the bathroom to shave and start his day.
Miss Parker peered at herself in the mirror, though she had just applied her foundation, she looked pale. The dark and puffy circles under her eyes gave evidence that it had not been a restful night. "You look like Hell," she said candidly to the woman in the mirror.
Then remembering a time a few years back when her father had said those same words to her. It hadn't exactly been encouraging. The fact that Broots had not been able to find Jarod before now concerned her. Certainly Jarod would have left some kind of trail after getting off of the airplane from Atlanta. He had to be somewhere in this city.
She applied a sweep of gray eye shadow over each eyelid then added a coat of waterproof black mascara to her already long dark eyelashes. She was determined not to cry today, but it didn't hurt to play it safe. 'Parker,' she silently acknowledged to herself, 'You don't even want to think about the possibility that Jarod could be gone forever. That you will never see him, speak with him again. Admit it to yourself if not to him, he was the best friend you ever had, and you never even told him so.'
She was embarrassed that Sydney had seen her cry yesterday, but she made up her mind, it would not be repeated today. As she swept the blusher brush gracefully over her cheekbones, she set about donning the icy façade she wore daily at the Centre. She grabbed a raspberry colored lipstick and carefully applied it to her mouth. Her ice queen mask firmly in place she grabbed her wallet and headed downstairs for a needed cup of strong coffee and hopefully some good news about the search for their missing Pretender.
**********************************************************
Jarod had spent a couple hours the previous evening making sure that his "employment records" had been faxed to Joe. With Miss Parker and the others in town he didn't know if he would be able to go to join in the rescue efforts tomorrow when he and Pete and Stan were scheduled to return. But he had come to like and respect these valiant men, as he knew Tara did too. He didn't want Joe to get into difficulties trying to explain why his records did not show up. Joe had enough troubles to deal with.
Jarod had also spent an hour the previous evening trying to teach Tara chess. He liked to thing of himself as a good teacher, and he knew Tara had a quick mind, but no matter how he tried she never seemed to get the hang of it. Perhaps it was due to a lack of focus and concentration, but her obvious mistakes had lead to laughter on both of their parts. Looking back on it now, he had to wonder if she hadn't been doing that on purpose just to lighten his mood.
"Hey Jarod," Tara called from the kitchen, "let's make some cookies and brownies to take to the station for the guys. I want to do something nice for them. Do you think they would like that?"
"Yeah," Jarod called back as he put away his computer. "I bet they would love that. But Tara, is this more comfort food?"
"Yes," Tara laughed as he came into the room.
"I thought so." Jarod replied with a smile.
"Well I could take them a nice big salad, I just don't think they would appreciate it as much.", Tara replied with a wink.
*********************************************************************
Broots reached over clumsily and knocked the ringing telephone off the hook. He had been in the middle of an awesome dream about Miss Parker clad in only short slate blue negligee that picked up the color of her gorgeous eyes. But, the incessant ringing of the telephone had caused her to image to dissolve and reality at last intruded on his dreams.
He finally captured the receiver and brought it up towards his ear, and answered with a husky sleepy voice, "Hello?"
"Broots," Miss Parker asked, "What the hell took you so long to answer the phone?"
" Oh....Miss Parker. Uh...um, what time is it?"
"Eight. Syd and I have been downstairs in the coffee shop for over an hour. Don't you have any more information on Jarod's last location here in New York City?"
"I'm sorry Miss Parker, not yet. I was up until 2:00. But do you have any idea how many hotels are in the New York City area?"
"No, nor do I want to know. I just want Jarod found! Now get up and get me his location! I want answers and I want them today!" With that Miss Parker hug up the phone abruptly.
Broots just lay there for a moment staring at the phone with its annoying dial tone in his hand before he realized she was gone. With a weary sigh he hung it up, threw back the covers and padded across the carpet to the bathroom in his Looney Tunes boxers and bare feet.
********************************************************************
Tara and Jarod filled every container she owned with cookies for the firefighters. She then filled a grocery sack with the containers so they could transport them there easily. She never said a word when Jarod snitched a few for himself hot from the cookie sheet.
She just smiled.
"I had to test them," Jarod smiled as he arched an eyebrow at her.
"You just make sure there are some left when we finally get them to the station. I don't want to go there with empty arms."
Jarod closed the cookbook she had used, and when he picked it up to put it in her cupboard, a photograph fell out upon the floor.
"Who is this?" Jarod asked as he bent over to pick it up before she could stop him. It was a faded photo of 2 teenage girls, he could tell the one with the round face and long blonde hair was Tara but the picture was cracked and worn.
"A memory I would rather not relive right now." Tara replied taking the picture from him. Though Jarod had gotten a brief glimpse of the softly smiling pale teenage girl with black spiked hair, dressed in all black.
"What aren't you telling me Tara, I can tell there is a story here."
"It's just a photo of Genevieve and I, she was my cousin."
"Was your cousin?" Jarod asked intrigued.
"Yes."
"What happened to her," his curiosity aroused since she did not want to discuss it. He cared about Tara, and knowing this was important, he pressed for details.
"Viva commited suicide just a week after this was taken."
"Why?" Jarod asked shocked, having seen the smile on the girl's face.
"It's a long story Jarod..."
"I am here Tara," he said taking her suddenly cold fingers into his hand and removing the photo of Genevieve from her unresistant fingers of the opposite hand and tucking it back into the book it had fallen from.
"You were there for me when I needed to grieve. You listened patiently while I told you about my childhood and my life on the run from the Centre. What kind of friend gives support, but doesn't take it?", he asked while looking her in the eye.
She looked down at her hand gently clasped in his. "A friend who is afraid if you knew the truth about her....You would turn her away as have so many others."
"What Tara, What is the truth?", Jarod asked softly.
"I am afraid I am to blame for Viva's suicide." Tara blurted out baldly.
"What?" Jarod exclaimed sharply in surprise.
"Viva was younger by about a year and a half. We were really close. We were cousins and best friends. She was like the little sister I never had. She was just 16 when she died."
"Why do you feel you are to blame for her suicide Tara?", he asked while putting an arm around her and guiding her to the living room and into her favorite chair. He even tucked the afghan she had draped over him previously around her.
"Because Jarod, she talked to me about it," Tara sighed weariness in her voice. "She gave me her gold heart necklace, and her records...many of her most treasured things. She gave them to me...."
"Why are you surprised about that Tara, people who commit suicide often give away their most treasured possessions."
"I know Jarod, I knew it then too. I just didn't put all the pieces together to see the whole puzzle."
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't know had driven her to such a state. As I think back now, the signs were obvious. But at the time, I just didn't realize..." Tara's voice broke and a tear slid down her cheek.
Jarod waited patiently sitting near her on the floor.
"I didn't realize until later, when I found out from one of her other friends that Viva kept a diary in her locker at school. When I read it I was shocked... their next-door neighbor was a pedophile and had been molesting her since she was 10. And yet, I wasn't all that surprised...the man made my skin crawl. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him, he was always trying to touch me. I never knew why I didn't like him, I just felt uncomfortable in his presence. But Viva had no such reservations; he was after all their neighbor, invited for cookouts and stuff. I used to think how odd it was that he used to give her special little gifts. Now I know, it was to keep her quiet."
Jarod just nodded, knowing now was not the time to pipe up about her intuition having protected her from danger. His training at the Centre had honed his intuition, his instincts, and that helped him in his simulations. Sydney had spent years teaching him to trust his gut. But he was learning that when it came to the world outside the Centre, such gut instincts were often ignored.
"Viva told me she had some of her Mom's pills. She told me she dreamed of committing suicide. It was just a couple nights before she did. I just thought she was depressed and that it would pass. I was wrong; so very wrong. When I heard she had overdosed," Tara's voice caught on the word, "I came to my family and told them that Viva had told me she was considering suicide, and that I was sorry I hadn't taken the threat seriously. My aunt, and my cousin Richard really haven't spoken to me since after her funeral. My own parents didn't even understand why I had said nothing. Our friends at school, they blamed me too when my cousin Richard told all her friends lies about me. A friend, Cady got Viva's diary from her locker and showed it to me. Turns out the pedophile had molested her too. He was Cady's mother's boyfriend! Cady had ran away and was living in a foster home, but I had never known why. Because he had a good reputation in the community, Cady and Viva knew no one would ever believe them. Cady ran away to Chicago, and got involved with drugs and prostitution. She died a couple years ago."
"Wow," Jarod sighed. "This must have been a hard experience for you to go through Tara. Did you try to tell your aunt about Viva and the pedophile? Did you show her the diary?"
"Yes, I tried to tell her. I gave her back the necklace and things Viva had given me before she died. I gave grandmother the diary, and told her to have my Aunt read it. I turned 18 and after graduation I left the small town where we grew up and I never went back. I speak to my mother on the telephone about once a month, but we never speak of it. My conversations with her are brief and shallow. My grandmother has tried to mend the rift, but it is just to wide. I visit her in Chicago a couple times per year."
"Tara this situation was not of your making. You weren't to blame for what happened, you were young and inexperienced. You can't still believe you are to blame for Viva's death?"
"Oh the head understands Jarod, but the heart it takes it longer to heal. I was in therapy for years. Intellectually I know I wasn't to blame, but emotionally, well it took me longer to get where I am today."
"And where is that?" Jarod asked sincerely concerned for Tara.
"To be completely honest, it depends on the day," she replied with a half-hearted smile.
Jarod looked around the living room and noticed an occasional photo tucked among the many books upon her shelves. On a top shelf a photo of Tara dressed in red cap and gown for graduation with her solemn parents. At eye level a recent looking one of an elderly lady with sparkling Caribbean blue eyes dressed in pink with hair as white as snow. It was obviously her beloved grandmother the matriarch of her family.
She clutched the multi-colored afghan closer about her shoulders for a moment. Noticing his watchful brown eyes upon her she nodded with a weary smile, "Grandma Kelly made it for me. She used to tell me, there is love in every stitch. Sometimes I just like to pull it around me and remind myself that I am loved."
"You are Tara." Jarod knelt before her and wrapped his strong arms about her in a quiet embrace. He looked about the room with new eyes. His eyes now found well-loved old books, the few photos and the afghan as traces of a life. Pieces of a past left behind. But one that still caused her pain. 'My past might be a little more portable,' Jarod thought of his DSA's, 'but are we really so different?'
To Be Continued...
Author: maestra
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Please note that the rating has been upgraded on this chapter to PG-13. That is due to references to two hot topics childhood sexual abuse and teen suicide in this chapter. Again I have tried to handle these topics sensitively, but I realize they may cause distress to some readers and felt you deserved fair warning.
Chapter 11: "Traces of A Life"
Broots took a hot shower to relax and then slipped into bed just after 2:00. It had been a long day. Since they had arrived in New York City at their hotel he had been searching the Internet, hacking into hotel computers to find out if Jarod had been registered at one of them the night he arrived, or dare they hope, he might still there. 'I'm getting old,' Broots thought, 'Mountain Dew doesn't have the kick it used to. And these late nights are getting hard on me.' He yawned, smiled wearily as he thought of Debbie. Glad she was home in Delaware safely removed from the City under siege. He rolled over on his side and drifted off to sleep.
***************************************************************
Sydney awoke early and turned on the television. He flipped through the many cable channels the hotel offered, but coverage of the terrorist attacks and the recovery efforts at the World Trade Center site was on nearly every channel. He watched closely when they showed the workers, hoping desperately for some sign of Jarod. But none of the workers they showed close-ups of looked enough like Jarod. 'What if he was among the missing? What if Jarod is really gone for good? Your usefulness to the Centre will be at an end. Jarod was your greatest achievement, your crowning glory to a long Centre career. But more than that, since his escape you know you have cheered for him against the Centre. Because through your protégé you could redeem yourself. You could finally give back to the world good things, for all the evil the Centre has done or made you do.'
Not liking the track his thoughts were taking, Sydney looked at the digital clock on the nightstand by his bed. 5:30 A.M. if he remembered correctly, the restaurant in the hotel here opened at 6:00 A.M. Allowing him just enough time to shower and dress. He just didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. Sydney threw back the covers and padded off in his black silk pajamas to the bathroom to shave and start his day.
Miss Parker peered at herself in the mirror, though she had just applied her foundation, she looked pale. The dark and puffy circles under her eyes gave evidence that it had not been a restful night. "You look like Hell," she said candidly to the woman in the mirror.
Then remembering a time a few years back when her father had said those same words to her. It hadn't exactly been encouraging. The fact that Broots had not been able to find Jarod before now concerned her. Certainly Jarod would have left some kind of trail after getting off of the airplane from Atlanta. He had to be somewhere in this city.
She applied a sweep of gray eye shadow over each eyelid then added a coat of waterproof black mascara to her already long dark eyelashes. She was determined not to cry today, but it didn't hurt to play it safe. 'Parker,' she silently acknowledged to herself, 'You don't even want to think about the possibility that Jarod could be gone forever. That you will never see him, speak with him again. Admit it to yourself if not to him, he was the best friend you ever had, and you never even told him so.'
She was embarrassed that Sydney had seen her cry yesterday, but she made up her mind, it would not be repeated today. As she swept the blusher brush gracefully over her cheekbones, she set about donning the icy façade she wore daily at the Centre. She grabbed a raspberry colored lipstick and carefully applied it to her mouth. Her ice queen mask firmly in place she grabbed her wallet and headed downstairs for a needed cup of strong coffee and hopefully some good news about the search for their missing Pretender.
**********************************************************
Jarod had spent a couple hours the previous evening making sure that his "employment records" had been faxed to Joe. With Miss Parker and the others in town he didn't know if he would be able to go to join in the rescue efforts tomorrow when he and Pete and Stan were scheduled to return. But he had come to like and respect these valiant men, as he knew Tara did too. He didn't want Joe to get into difficulties trying to explain why his records did not show up. Joe had enough troubles to deal with.
Jarod had also spent an hour the previous evening trying to teach Tara chess. He liked to thing of himself as a good teacher, and he knew Tara had a quick mind, but no matter how he tried she never seemed to get the hang of it. Perhaps it was due to a lack of focus and concentration, but her obvious mistakes had lead to laughter on both of their parts. Looking back on it now, he had to wonder if she hadn't been doing that on purpose just to lighten his mood.
"Hey Jarod," Tara called from the kitchen, "let's make some cookies and brownies to take to the station for the guys. I want to do something nice for them. Do you think they would like that?"
"Yeah," Jarod called back as he put away his computer. "I bet they would love that. But Tara, is this more comfort food?"
"Yes," Tara laughed as he came into the room.
"I thought so." Jarod replied with a smile.
"Well I could take them a nice big salad, I just don't think they would appreciate it as much.", Tara replied with a wink.
*********************************************************************
Broots reached over clumsily and knocked the ringing telephone off the hook. He had been in the middle of an awesome dream about Miss Parker clad in only short slate blue negligee that picked up the color of her gorgeous eyes. But, the incessant ringing of the telephone had caused her to image to dissolve and reality at last intruded on his dreams.
He finally captured the receiver and brought it up towards his ear, and answered with a husky sleepy voice, "Hello?"
"Broots," Miss Parker asked, "What the hell took you so long to answer the phone?"
" Oh....Miss Parker. Uh...um, what time is it?"
"Eight. Syd and I have been downstairs in the coffee shop for over an hour. Don't you have any more information on Jarod's last location here in New York City?"
"I'm sorry Miss Parker, not yet. I was up until 2:00. But do you have any idea how many hotels are in the New York City area?"
"No, nor do I want to know. I just want Jarod found! Now get up and get me his location! I want answers and I want them today!" With that Miss Parker hug up the phone abruptly.
Broots just lay there for a moment staring at the phone with its annoying dial tone in his hand before he realized she was gone. With a weary sigh he hung it up, threw back the covers and padded across the carpet to the bathroom in his Looney Tunes boxers and bare feet.
********************************************************************
Tara and Jarod filled every container she owned with cookies for the firefighters. She then filled a grocery sack with the containers so they could transport them there easily. She never said a word when Jarod snitched a few for himself hot from the cookie sheet.
She just smiled.
"I had to test them," Jarod smiled as he arched an eyebrow at her.
"You just make sure there are some left when we finally get them to the station. I don't want to go there with empty arms."
Jarod closed the cookbook she had used, and when he picked it up to put it in her cupboard, a photograph fell out upon the floor.
"Who is this?" Jarod asked as he bent over to pick it up before she could stop him. It was a faded photo of 2 teenage girls, he could tell the one with the round face and long blonde hair was Tara but the picture was cracked and worn.
"A memory I would rather not relive right now." Tara replied taking the picture from him. Though Jarod had gotten a brief glimpse of the softly smiling pale teenage girl with black spiked hair, dressed in all black.
"What aren't you telling me Tara, I can tell there is a story here."
"It's just a photo of Genevieve and I, she was my cousin."
"Was your cousin?" Jarod asked intrigued.
"Yes."
"What happened to her," his curiosity aroused since she did not want to discuss it. He cared about Tara, and knowing this was important, he pressed for details.
"Viva commited suicide just a week after this was taken."
"Why?" Jarod asked shocked, having seen the smile on the girl's face.
"It's a long story Jarod..."
"I am here Tara," he said taking her suddenly cold fingers into his hand and removing the photo of Genevieve from her unresistant fingers of the opposite hand and tucking it back into the book it had fallen from.
"You were there for me when I needed to grieve. You listened patiently while I told you about my childhood and my life on the run from the Centre. What kind of friend gives support, but doesn't take it?", he asked while looking her in the eye.
She looked down at her hand gently clasped in his. "A friend who is afraid if you knew the truth about her....You would turn her away as have so many others."
"What Tara, What is the truth?", Jarod asked softly.
"I am afraid I am to blame for Viva's suicide." Tara blurted out baldly.
"What?" Jarod exclaimed sharply in surprise.
"Viva was younger by about a year and a half. We were really close. We were cousins and best friends. She was like the little sister I never had. She was just 16 when she died."
"Why do you feel you are to blame for her suicide Tara?", he asked while putting an arm around her and guiding her to the living room and into her favorite chair. He even tucked the afghan she had draped over him previously around her.
"Because Jarod, she talked to me about it," Tara sighed weariness in her voice. "She gave me her gold heart necklace, and her records...many of her most treasured things. She gave them to me...."
"Why are you surprised about that Tara, people who commit suicide often give away their most treasured possessions."
"I know Jarod, I knew it then too. I just didn't put all the pieces together to see the whole puzzle."
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't know had driven her to such a state. As I think back now, the signs were obvious. But at the time, I just didn't realize..." Tara's voice broke and a tear slid down her cheek.
Jarod waited patiently sitting near her on the floor.
"I didn't realize until later, when I found out from one of her other friends that Viva kept a diary in her locker at school. When I read it I was shocked... their next-door neighbor was a pedophile and had been molesting her since she was 10. And yet, I wasn't all that surprised...the man made my skin crawl. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him, he was always trying to touch me. I never knew why I didn't like him, I just felt uncomfortable in his presence. But Viva had no such reservations; he was after all their neighbor, invited for cookouts and stuff. I used to think how odd it was that he used to give her special little gifts. Now I know, it was to keep her quiet."
Jarod just nodded, knowing now was not the time to pipe up about her intuition having protected her from danger. His training at the Centre had honed his intuition, his instincts, and that helped him in his simulations. Sydney had spent years teaching him to trust his gut. But he was learning that when it came to the world outside the Centre, such gut instincts were often ignored.
"Viva told me she had some of her Mom's pills. She told me she dreamed of committing suicide. It was just a couple nights before she did. I just thought she was depressed and that it would pass. I was wrong; so very wrong. When I heard she had overdosed," Tara's voice caught on the word, "I came to my family and told them that Viva had told me she was considering suicide, and that I was sorry I hadn't taken the threat seriously. My aunt, and my cousin Richard really haven't spoken to me since after her funeral. My own parents didn't even understand why I had said nothing. Our friends at school, they blamed me too when my cousin Richard told all her friends lies about me. A friend, Cady got Viva's diary from her locker and showed it to me. Turns out the pedophile had molested her too. He was Cady's mother's boyfriend! Cady had ran away and was living in a foster home, but I had never known why. Because he had a good reputation in the community, Cady and Viva knew no one would ever believe them. Cady ran away to Chicago, and got involved with drugs and prostitution. She died a couple years ago."
"Wow," Jarod sighed. "This must have been a hard experience for you to go through Tara. Did you try to tell your aunt about Viva and the pedophile? Did you show her the diary?"
"Yes, I tried to tell her. I gave her back the necklace and things Viva had given me before she died. I gave grandmother the diary, and told her to have my Aunt read it. I turned 18 and after graduation I left the small town where we grew up and I never went back. I speak to my mother on the telephone about once a month, but we never speak of it. My conversations with her are brief and shallow. My grandmother has tried to mend the rift, but it is just to wide. I visit her in Chicago a couple times per year."
"Tara this situation was not of your making. You weren't to blame for what happened, you were young and inexperienced. You can't still believe you are to blame for Viva's death?"
"Oh the head understands Jarod, but the heart it takes it longer to heal. I was in therapy for years. Intellectually I know I wasn't to blame, but emotionally, well it took me longer to get where I am today."
"And where is that?" Jarod asked sincerely concerned for Tara.
"To be completely honest, it depends on the day," she replied with a half-hearted smile.
Jarod looked around the living room and noticed an occasional photo tucked among the many books upon her shelves. On a top shelf a photo of Tara dressed in red cap and gown for graduation with her solemn parents. At eye level a recent looking one of an elderly lady with sparkling Caribbean blue eyes dressed in pink with hair as white as snow. It was obviously her beloved grandmother the matriarch of her family.
She clutched the multi-colored afghan closer about her shoulders for a moment. Noticing his watchful brown eyes upon her she nodded with a weary smile, "Grandma Kelly made it for me. She used to tell me, there is love in every stitch. Sometimes I just like to pull it around me and remind myself that I am loved."
"You are Tara." Jarod knelt before her and wrapped his strong arms about her in a quiet embrace. He looked about the room with new eyes. His eyes now found well-loved old books, the few photos and the afghan as traces of a life. Pieces of a past left behind. But one that still caused her pain. 'My past might be a little more portable,' Jarod thought of his DSA's, 'but are we really so different?'
To Be Continued...
