Title: Towers
Author: maestra


Chapter 13: Human Nature

"Ah Tara," Jarod sighed, "I confess that thought occurred to me also. I mean with all the confusion there has been, it would be the perfect chance to leave behind the Centre for good. That idea has a lot of allure."

"I'll say it does!" Tara agreed enthusiastically.

"But then there are questions..."

"What questions?"

"They're already in New York City Tara. How long before they find out I went to the nearest fire station and insinuated myself into the rescue efforts? How long before they find out I am staying with a cute blonde volunteer named Tara? And that we have become very close."

"You think I am cute?" Tara sat there in shock laughing for a moment. "Sorry," she quickly put on a somber face and apologized. "Wrong moment for hysterical laughter, we were trying to have a serious discussion."

A hint of merriment danced briefly in his dark eyes as well, "Yes I think you are cute, pretty, intelligent, warm, loving, and generous. Need I go on?"

"Uh, no.", she said blushing, "Please don't. It might go to my head."

"Not you Tara, I know you better than that." After a moment of silence Jarod continued, "So we are truly on borrowed time here Tara. Miss Parker, Broots, and Sydney and who knows how many sweepers could be bursting through the door to your apartment at any moment."

** ** ** ** ** **
Though the only door Miss Parker was bursting through was her own bathroom door that evening, and rushing to the toilet to empty the contents of her tortured stomach into it.

"Oh God," she moaned softly to herself as she knelt on the cold white tile floor with her pounding head over the basin for several moments afterwards.

'So Chinese food and vodka wasn't a wise combination' she told herself as she pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the equally icy bathtub. Broots had wanted to take advantage of the cultural diversity of New York City and get some Chinese food for dinner after the fiasco at Jarod's former hotel. And in a weak moment she had acquiesced. 'That is the trouble Parker,' she told herself sternly, 'You're having to many weak moments here. If Daddy could see you now he would be so disappointed in you.' Quite frankly she was surprised that he hadn't been on her case about this trip. Certainly he had to have found out by now they were on the trail of Jarod.

She had come back after the Chinese food and had a couple drinks in the hotel bar with Syd, and when he had thrown her a look of paternal looking concern, she knew she had to take this worry and frustration she was feeling and handle it in private. She had returned to her room and added a couple more drinks to her tally for the evening courtesy of the room's mini-bar. Which was totally ok with her, she wasn't in the mood to take Syd's condescending presence tonight anyway. Damn him for catching her crying over Jarod!
Her stomach roiled again at the thought of what the Centre would do if Jarod were really and truly lost to them. 'In your heart you know Parker, they will never stop hunting the Gemini project - Jarod's Centre created clone or his parents.'

Sydney had escorted Miss Parker gentlemanly to her room with nary a word about her alcohol consumption. He just smiled gently, understanding her need to deny the events of the last few days had ever happened. He feared she would have a horrible headache come morning. Sydney had checked in briefly with Broots to see if there was any progress with the search for Jarod. But he had found no records listing him, as among the missing on the Internet websites put up for loved ones to find those who had disappeared on 9-11.

But that didn't mean anything; Jarod Birmingham didn't really exist. And who beside themselves would be looking for him? Jarod's own family didn't even know that he had been in New York City on 9-11. And he thought sadly, that now that Major Charles had finally found his oldest son after over 30 years apart, it seemed he had been taken from them again. And this time, it might very well be forever. He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair.

Syd removed his robe, threw back the covers and wearily climbed into the bed. It had been a long day. He hoped tomorrow's sojourn to Jarod's hotel in the morning to meet the front desk clerk on duty on the morning of 9-11 was productive. That at last the illusive trail to his missing protégé could be found. Finally finding a comfortable position on his side, Sydney drifted off to sleep.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

"It may already be to late to set up a false trail leading them to the conclusion that I am dead. And even if I did have the time and opportunity to do so, would that get them to stop hunting my family?" Jarod asked gravely.

"I don't know Jarod, I think this has to be your decision, your choice. I'll back you up either way. If you want me to post a picture of you and add you to the list of the missing I will."

"Tara I don't want you messed up with the Centre in any way shape or form."

"I want to help you."

"I know Tara, but I don't want them to see you. If they were to know you are part of my life, well it would bring you only troubles."

Tara shook her head at him, "Brother of the heart, don't you know I would do anything for you?"

"I know you would Tara," he smiled, "But you shouldn't have to. The only thing I ask is stay off the Centre radar."

"Yes sir!", Tara saluted sloppily and grabbed his hand, "I feel the need for a late night snack how about you? Let's raid the refrigerator. "

"Sure," Jarod grinned, "Ice Cream?"

With a laugh she pulled him along behind her to the kitchen to honor his wish for the creamy frozen treat.

** ** ****** *** ** ******

He stood in the cemetery not far from where Catherine Parker's empty grave was marked with her tombstone. A bouquet of mixed flowers graced her grave, which Sydney could see even at a distance. The cold winds blew his coat about him and he flicked the collar of his coat higher about his neck.

As the wind changed he heard the soft sobs of women crying behind him and turned to look. There was a dark casket there in front of three women dressed in black. They stood beside the closed casket drying their eyes with soft linen handkerchiefs. Somewhere close by a mourning dove cried and one of the red haired women raised her eyes to search it out and met Sydney's eyes instead. Though her red hair had slightly grayed and her skin now had a few telltale lines about the mouth and eyes, Sydney recognized the woman from a photo he had seen. It was Margaret, Jarod's mother. The younger version of herself must be Jarod's sister he thought abstractly. When the mourning dove's mate called a solemn reply he noticed 3 men had come to join the women at the graveside.

Sydney recognized immediately the quiet strength and dignity that Major Charles showed as he gathered his wife and daughter close in a protective gesture. Margaret now sobbed inconsolably against her husband's broad chest. Emily too took solace in her father's embrace.

Sydney recognized the youngest man as Gemini, the clone, the teenage duplicate of the Centre's greatest Pretender. Sydney had been privileged to briefly work with the younger version of Jarod as well. Sydney had in fact betrayed the Centre so Jarod could help the young lad escape the Centre's clutches, and live with Jarod's family, as Jarod himself longed to do. The sight of the young man, with one hand upon the lid of the casket looking exactly like the original caused Sydney's heart to ache. But this child would not grow up forever captive at the Centre. This child would know the sweet scent of freedom as he grew up. Something his forbearer had not been allowed to do. 'A puppet of the Centre for decades, and still I dance their tune.' Jacob had tried to tell him the night of the accident. Had he known all those years ago that Jarod had been stolen from his family, and not an orphan would things have been different? Would he now not be saying goodbye to the child he had raised in the Centre. The dark haired Pretender who he had come to think of not only as his protégé, but also like a son? Who was he to have contributed to the theft of their son? No wonder Margaret had looked at him and renewed her tears.

The dark haired woman and her equally dark haired escort approached the casket by the boy's side. She raised a pink carnation to her lips, kissing the bloom with equally soft lips before laying it on top of the casket with a folded piece of paper. Then she looked up at straight at Sydney, and his heart broke as he saw the tears in Miss Parker's lovely blue eyes. The man at her elbow was Ethan then, the brother Miss Parker and Jarod shared. He followed her gaze and he took his sister's elbow and led her and the family away. Leaving Sydney alone in the damp and cold behind. He approached the casket cautiously. He reached out and picked up the piece of paper and read the note left behind.

'Jarod - Don't know how I will go on without you. Someone told me that a pink carnation means that "I'll Never Forget You", and I swear my beloved friend, I never will. - Parker'

Sydney replaced the note and the mourning doves again called out a lonesome song. The mourning doves gave way to a new person's sobs. But Sydney stood there just looking into the maw of the gravesite, while hot rain fell from the skies. And in a moment of sudden clarity the Centre psychiatrist suddenly awoke, and realized that the hot rain fell not from the sky, but from his very own eyes.

Broots let himself back into his hotel room. And after a few minutes of flicking restlessly through the channels he hit the mute button. He longed to hear his little girl's voice.

"Hello Dad", Debbie said with smile in her young voice.

"Hey pumpkin, knew you would love that caller id." the warmth of Broots' smile carried over the wire. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. I miss you though. Will you be home soon?"

"I don't know Debbie, it sort of depends on what Miss Parker decides. But you know I will be home as soon as I possible. "

"I'm afraid for you Dad, you are right there where all the trouble has been. I'm scared."

"I know Debbie honey. I know you are afraid. But I am fine. And I am coming home to you soon, very soon."

"Hurry Daddy," Debbie whispered softly, "And keep Miss Parker safe too."

"I will Debbie."

Debbie yawned then quickly apologized to her father, "Guess I was out in the fresh air a bit to much today."

"Good." Broots chuckled softly, "Off to bed with you now honey. Pleasant dreams to you."

"Night Daddy," Debbie replied with another yawn, "talk to you tomorrow night. If you aren't home already."

"Ok hon, night!" Broots smiled as he hung up the phone. It was good to hear her voice. With her mother god only knows where the girl needed to know she could count on her Dad! And again his thoughts turned to Jarod and how he might not even know where Debbie was if it wasn't for Jarod. He thought of a life of wondering where Debbie was and if she was being taken care of by her mother, and another wave of gratitude washed over him for Jarod's intervention.

Sydney sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes. Then switched the damp pillow beneath his head for the fresh one next to it. What would he do now that Jarod was probably dead and free of the Centre at last? Should he retire? Would the Centre even allow that? Or would they see to it he never talked about what he knew by killing him or sending him to Renewal wing? And, what would become of Miss Parker and Jarod's family? Did his family even know he was gone?

Sydney's heart began to ache, for the little dark haired boy he had raised as his own, and for the man he had become. He was proud of the man Jarod had become; proud of the way he used his fantastic abilities to do good in the world. His heart ached for Jarod's parents and for Miss Parker and himself. He had touched all their lives, and the lives of many others in the world no doubt with his constant need to right the wrongs.

Suddenly a prose passage came to mind from John Donne's "Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions"...
"... no man is an island, entire of itself;
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less,
As well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's
or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
it tolls for thee."
Yes any man's death did diminish him, Sydney acknowledged, but the death of Jarod was particularly difficult for him to accept. For the loss of this one man, and the good he could have done in the world, Sydney felt very personally and keenly. He longed to tell Jarod just once that he loved him like a son. And if it wasn't for Jarod, he never would have known his own son, Nicholas or been reunited with Michelle again. No, he could not imagine what his life would be like now, without the Pretender. Shaking his head to dispel the gloomy image he lay back down and with a weary soul tried to chase the sweet oblivion that was sleep.

******** ********* ********* *********** ************* ********

They had finished their ice cream and returned to his room to watch more of Jarod's 'home movies' of his life at the Centre.

"Jarod," Tara said while shaking her head at him, "When are you going to learn you that there are more evils and dangers in the world than just the Centre?"

"Tara," Jarod replied indignant, "I know these people better than anyone, I know what they are capable of. And besides it is my nature to want to keep those I care about safe."

"Jarod, there is no safe. Safety is just an illusion. Those people who passed through metal detectors to get on the planes that were hijacked they thought they were safe. Those in the World Trade Center Towers and surrounding buildings when they went to work on the morning of the 11th and sat down at their desks, they thought, 'I arrived safe'. And those people who entered the Pentagon that day, well with the security on the ground there, they certainly thought they were safe. But you can only do what you can do. I personally, just have to go ahead and live my life the best that I know how. I'm not going to live my life in fear that terrorists are on every airplane or in every city. So maybe I am naïve, but I won't let the Centre dictate my life. And I hope you wouldn't either. You can't be afraid to live, or afraid to die. Just live each day as if it was the last, in case tomorrow never comes."