Note: The characters of Jarod, Sydney, Miss Parker, etc. belong to TNT and whoever else owns them. This is nothing more than me paying tribute to what was a great show. I'm not trying to make money, etc. You know the drill.
This story is pre-pretender movies, since I didn't like where the movies took the story. It doesn't exactly pick up where season four left off either, so you could say this is just one of "those" stories where it could've happened anytime after season two.
Also I would like to add that the reference to a woman named "Jillian" is a character from my story, Flypaper Centre. Read that story first before this one chapter because there is a major spoiler in here for that story.
Chapter Two
As soon as she got into her car, the uncontrollable tears began to flow. She could've swore she'd cried herself out, but here she was again, giving vent to her volatile emotions.
"Caitlyn, where are you?" she moaned between bone wracking sobs.
She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel of her maroon '88 Subaru GL. Her mind worked frantically, trying to figure out some way to make everything better, to make her daughter be in the backseat of her car, drooling happily, and trying to take off her little booties to inspect fuzz covered toes.
Her daughter was her life, her everything. She had no other family; her parents had died when she was ten in an automobile accident. She had been a ward of the state until she had been freed from her prison at 18. Life had held little joy for her until she met Jeremy and then subsequently got herself pregnant. Until then, it had been all about making herself forget the memories of her past. Drugs, alcohol, sex, it hadn't mattered to her as long as it helped her forget for even a moment that she had no one who really cared about her.
Jeremy had been the first person to get past her defenses since her parents died. He had done it so easily, too. Once he'd risked his life for hers, she knew he wasn't just another punk-ass kid who wanted a piece of ass. She'd been there and done that. Instead, he was a thoughtful guy who took into account her feelings. He made her smile, made her happy with his wit and inherent charm. Yet there was always that underlying sadness to him. She'd noticed it in Jarod, too. Those eyes that were so soulful, so expressively mournful.
When he'd first walked into the gas station, she'd noticed him only because he was so good looking. Light brown hair and dark, coffee eyes, tall, muscular and so not the type to notice average looking her. He'd given her a charming little grin and begun to browse the shelves for whatever junk food appealed to him.
She knew she'd fallen head over heels for a guy she could never have. He was as unattainable as the wind, yet she had kept a piece of him in the form on his daughter. Whatever love she craved from another human being, she lavished on her daughter. She never wanted her child to grow up knowing that no body gave a damn, because Trista would always care about her baby girl. The night she'd given birth on her bed, she'd taken one look at her baby's face and knew that until that very moment, her life hadn't been worth squat.
It was hard being single and pregnant, but a hundred times harder being a single mommy. She'd almost lost it those first couple of months, almost succumbed to the frustration, the sleep deprivation and the post-partum depression. Then she'd take one look at that innocent, trusting face and renew her vows to not give up.
Getting a hold of herself, Trista sat up, wiped her face on her gray shirt and then threw it in the backseat, where the car seat sat, empty. She gritted her teeth, and got the hell out of there. A little sleep was sounding better all the time.
Twenty minutes later, she was at her apartment on the northeast side of the county. She hated downtown San Antonio and the only reason she ever went down there was because the free clinic she took Caitlyn to was there. They didn't demand all the paperwork she couldn't provide. An idea came into her head. They would have Caitlyn's medical records and that would be more proof that she had had a baby. She made a note to herself to go and pick up her daughter's medical records as soon as possible. She looked over at the clock on her dashboard just before she got out of her car and saw that it was already 2:30. There was no way she was going back downtown when traffic was about to be at its worst.
Wearily, she trudged upstairs to her apartment in the complex she lived in. It was dirt cheap; she paid five hundred a month, all utilities included. She reached her door and opened it with a twist of her key and walked into the empty room, trying to remember that crying would do her little good now.
Her bedroom was to the back of her apartment, before her was the dining area off to her left, her living room to her right and the kitchen was behind the counter that housed the kitchen sink and just above it was a set of cabinets, giving the impression of it being its own distinctive room.
There was a short hallway that led to the hall closet on the right, her bedroom door on the left and her bathroom at the very end of the hallway. The walls were a glossy white that had obviously been repainted a number of times and the carpets were the standard tan color that camouflaged the stains of living. She opened her bedroom door and walked over to her bed, collapsing into the mattress.
More tears streaked her pallid cheeks before she finally fell into an exhausted and restless sleep.
"…thirty-six hours and he's already demonstrating more talent than any of our others…"
"…Who am I, Sydney? … I just want to know who I am…"
"…Where's my mom and dad…"
"…I don't know who I am…"
The voices echoed in his mind. Dazed, he sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at the bed and saw his alarm clock read 8:12. He'd barely gotten six hours of sleep. Figured.
He eyed the room until he saw his cell phone sitting over on the table against the far wall. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, noticing that he did feel much better now that he'd been able to sleep again. Picking up the phone he flipped it open and speed dialed Sydney.
After a few rings, an accented voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Did you ever hear of a boy named Jeremy at the Centre, Sydney?"
There was a slight pause, "I don't think so, Jarod. Why do you ask?"
Jarod didn't know what to tell him. He trusted Sydney, yet there was always a shadow of a doubt that made him keep certain details to himself.
"Can you find out if there was a boy named Jeremy at the Centre?" Jarod persisted.
Sydney cleared his throat; "I can look into it, but without anymore information except a name I can't promise anything definitive …" he trailed off.
"He would be in his early twenties, dark eyes, tall, with light brown hair. He'd also be listed as missing from the Centre."
"What's going on, Jarod?" Sydney asked, his voice conveyed his concern.
He just didn't know what to say to that, "Nothing, Sydney. Can you get me the information or not?"
"I'll see what I can do," Sydney promised, then, "You sound tired, Jarod. Edgy. Are you not sleeping again?"
A humorless chuckle escaped Jarod's lips. After having spent thirty-three years with Sydney, the man could sometimes read him like a book, "Actually, I finally was able to drift off for about six hours. I hadn't slept in 48 hours though."
"I'm concerned for you. Insomnia is an indication that there's something wrong-˝
Jarod cut him off stiffly, "Don't Sydney. Don't try to analyze me like this. The reason I can't sleep is because of what you and the Centre did to me for all those years. Simulations, experiments, isolation. After all of that, did you expect me to be a normally functioning human being? I can't sleep because my mind torments me. If I am really such a genius why didn't I know about how the Centre was using my Sims? Why didn't I figure out that I was causing innocent deaths by what my mind created? Why didn't I stop them from killing Jillian?"
Sydney's voice was edged, "Jarod, I told you I had no idea what the Centre was using your simulations for. Don't you think I would have stopped it if I'd known? Don't you think I would have stopped them from using Jillian if I had known about her as well?"
Jarod closed his eyes, shutting out the image of a worn Sydney, a man who felt the guilt as sharply as he did about the abuse of his genius, and of others like him.
"I know. We've been over this before."
Jarod hung up abruptly, not wishing to dredge up the past anymore than Sydney did. He also didn't want to hurt the man he'd always thought of as a father. He especially didn't want to think about Jillian, a pretender the Centre had used briefly to find him and bring him in. A woman so similar to him it had been eerie.
He stopped himself from going any further down that path. It was still a raw spot for him, the memories it brought back. Her eyes still haunted him, she was always crying in his dreams, always apologizing for what she'd done to him.
He threw the phone on his bed roughly, wanting to purge the volatile feelings churning inside of him. He stalked out of the bedroom and into the sitting room; he opened the refrigerator of the mini-bar and grabbed a mini-bottle of something he didn't bother to look at. He opened it and brought it to his lips, but he hesitated.
Cursing under his breath, he replaced the cap and then put it away again. There was no escape in alcohol, he knew, just a really bad hangover.
After a much needed shower and a clean outfit, Trista was ready to head back to Jarod's suite with pictures of Caitlyn and a report of what the police had told her. She left her apartment and locked door behind her. In her car, she threw Caitlyn's baby book on the seat next to her and turned the car on.
It took her just under twenty minutes to get back to the Marriott. She parked in one of the many parking lots, paid for the spot and walked the rest of the way to the hotel. None of the employees were the same from that afternoon so she wasn't accosted on her way up. She headed up to Jarod's room.
A soft knock sounded and Jarod in nothing but his black jeans and an unbuttoned dark red shirt opened the door. He beckoned her inside and she went without question.
She handed Jarod the baby book that contained all the pictures she had of Caitlyn and watched as he thumbed through it.
"She's beautiful, Trista. A perfect baby doll," he whispered in awe of her daughter.
Glancing over his shoulder, she had to agree, for Caitlyn had always been so beautiful. She had blond hair and dark blue eyes that had yet to change. Her face was chubby and rounded with babyhood, her eyes bright and alert. She smiled toothlessly at the camera.
"Thank you," Trista managed over the lump in her throat.
Jarod looked up to see Trista blinking back her tears. He knew it must've been hard seeing her daughter in those pictures and knowing she was out of her reach for now. It broke his heart to see her pain, so he put his hand on her shoulder, looked her dead in the eye, "I promise I will find her, Trista. In fact, I've already searched the hotel's records and found something you might want to see."
Hope flared in Trista's brown eyes as Jarod lead her over to his laptop. He turned the screen so she could look it over. It was on the hotel's guest list, currently on the names beginning with "G".
She read the list mentally, Garder, Garner, Garran, Gartelli, Garza. There was nothing unusual about the list, nothing that had caught her eye.
"What? I don't see anything."
Jarod looked at her, "Look again. There's no Gardner, no record of anyone named Catherine Gardner staying in this hotel. So unless she was visiting a guest, which is highly unlikely, she had no business being here. Which means she in all likelihood had something to do with Caitlyn's kidnapping."
"I knew it!" Trista said, "I told you she had my baby's stroller."
Jarod nodded, "What's more, when I went down into the bathroom to see what she could have been doing in there, I found this," he held up a piece of cloth, but it was more than that, it was the last thing Caitlyn had been wearing before she'd been kidnapped.
Her chest felt heavy, she couldn't breathe as she look at the little pink and white sundress she'd dressed Caitlyn in only that morning. She reached out reverently and pulled the dress over to her face, inhaling the remnants of her baby's sweet smell.
"I've done a composite sketch of our mysterious Catherine Gardner," Jarod grabbed the sketchbook off the coffee table to show her the woman's face sneering back at her.
Shuddering, Trista nodded, "That's great, Jarod. How did you know how to do all this anyway?" she asked, fingering the drawing lightly.
Shrugging, Jarod grinned, "I told you, I've done this before."
His answer didn't satisfy Trista however, but she let the matter drop.
"So where do we go from here?" she wondered.
"Well, there's three possible ways she could leave San Antonio. Plane, bus or car. My guess is she is not working alone, since she came out of that bathroom with another baby to throw us off. Your daughter was in that bathroom until they could sneak her out of the hotel without your catching them. Where they took her from here, I don't know, but I am certain they aren't going to be staying in San Antonio much longer. It's doubtful they'd know you don't have a birth certificate for her, so they'll want to get as far away from here as they can."
"How do we track them from here?"
"Well," Jarod began, "We get the police involved. What did they say, by the way?"
Trista shrugged, "They didn't exactly believe me, Jarod. No one believes me. Two officers came to take my statement, but because I didn't report it right away and because I have no official proof of Caitlyn's existence, they were very skeptical," she sighed, almost as in defeat, "I don't think they're going to try very hard to do anything about it."
Jarod had been afraid of that, but he wouldn't let it worry him. He knew he could find Caitlyn faster than the police could anyway.
"Don't worry," he soothed, "I'll find her."
Miss Parker was walking past Sydney's office when she saw that he was still sitting at his desk, silent and unmoving. She stopped, watched him from his doorway. He seemed so very old just then, old and tired.
"You ok, Syd?" her voice uncharacteristically soft and concerned.
Looking up in start, Sydney gave Parker a weary smile, "Yes, quite all right. I got another call from Jarod this evening," he admitted.
An eyebrow raised, "Oh? What did wonder-boy have to say tonight?"
As usual, Sydney refused to rise to her baiting; he just looked up at her blankly as if something truly terrible had happened.
"He wanted information about someone named Jeremy," Sydney admitted, rubbing his eyes.
Parker frowned, "Who is Jeremy?"
Shrugging, Sydney shook his head, "I don't know."
A strange feeling entered Parker's heart as she gazed down at Sydney. She wasn't used to any tender emotions assaulting her, and assaulting her was what they were doing now. She had long since contained any feelings that could get in the way with her job. But for tonight, she would give in to them, and then threaten Sydney to complete and utter silence if he dared to ever mention it again.
"Go home Syd, you look like death warmed over."
Nodding, the older man began to rise, his hands placed on his desk to steady his weary body.
"Thank you Parker," Sydney told her.
Feeling her job was done, she turned to leave when Sydney's voice stopped her.
"Jarod's not been sleeping very well lately. He's had insomnia ever since that girl died. You know, Jillian."
This time, Parker had no snappy comeback. All she could think about was the body of that girl lying crumpled on the pavement, her blood gushing from the bullet hole in her back.
"She was never supposed to die," she finally was able to croak.
There was some shifting behind her, and then suddenly Sydney was next to her, close by not touching her.
"It wasn't your fault, Parker. He knows that."
A smile of admiration touched Miss Parker's lips, "You should have been there to see the way she stood up to Lyle and I. If not for that damned Billy, they would have both escaped," she paused, "Unharmed.
"How many others like her and Jarod are there, Syd? How many people have been ripped away from everything they knew to be brought to this … hellhole?"
It was the first time Sydney had ever seen Parker display any sympathy for anyone other than herself or her father. It made him smile as he saw the naked look of pain in her eyes and saw how she was actually opening up to him.
He shook his head, "I don't know, Parker. A year ago, I would have said very few, but now … I'm not so sure. If we never knew about Jillian, then I can only imagine how many other children grew up here like that."
The veil drifted down in Miss Parker's eyes. She shrugged away from Sydney, pulling herself together, "My only concern right now is finding Jarod and bringing him in," she snapped, more to remind herself than Sydney that she couldn't afford distractions.
Sydney watched as she stomped away, her heels echoing hollowly in the eerie hallways of the Centre.
Her question made him think. He sighed wearily and went back to his desk to search. He'd let Jarod down in so many other ways over the years. He didn't want to keep doing so.
A ringing in his ears woke him up. His eyes bleary, he looked around the room, seeing Trista curled up on the couch next to him, his laptop still on, the screen showed his e-mail account.
He sat up and stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly as he pulled all the kinks from his muscles. His groans woke up Trista, who indulged in her own hearty stretch.
"What time is it?" she mumbled as Jarod came to sit down next to her.
He glanced at the watch on his computer, "It's after 7. Are you hungry? I could order us some breakfast," he offered.
He accessed the new e-mail and saw it was from Sydney.
"Sounds good," she sat up and glanced over Jarod's shoulder, wondering what he was doing, "What's that?"
"An e-mail from a friend," he told her absently, reading what Sydney had written.
It read:
Jarod,
I had Broots do a search for your friend. This is what he found.
Re: The Ghost Project
Jrm seems to be adjusting well. Will update later with more detailed report.
Z
I know this isn't what you hoped for, but it is all we could find about your friend. If we run across anything, I will let you know.
Sydney
Trista read the short e-mail over Jarod's shoulder, "What does all that mean? What's the Ghost Project?" she wondered.
Jarod only shook his head, still lost in his own thoughts, "I don't know, Trista. I really don't know."
"Does this have anything to do with Caitlyn?"
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach brought Jarod out of his mental reveries, "I think so, Trista."
A frown marred Trista's brow as she looked at Jarod staring vacantly at his computer screen. Something was wrong with him, he was acting strangely. She snapped her fingers in front of Jarod's face while saying in a sing-song voice, "Hey, Jarod. Wake up. Snap out of it."
He shook his head and looked over at her, wondering how much of what was going on he should tell her. He closed his eyes briefly, realizing that soon he'd have to head back to Blue Cove, back to the Centre.
"I'm sorry, Trista. I think Jeremy's past has finally caught up to you."
She stilled, her face paled, "What do you mean, Jarod?"
Jarod couldn't look at her. He wasn't even sure he wanted to calculate the odds of him running into this sort of a situation.
"It means we are not safe here anymore," he told her, realizing that at any moment, sweepers could barge into his room and he wouldn't have been the wiser had he not gone with his gut instincts and checked with Sydney.
He began unplugging his computer from the wall, gathering his things. Trista only sat there watching him, her breathing shallow as the full weight of his words sank into her.
"I don't have time to explain everything now, but I think you already know that. We have to leave, now, Trista," Jarod's voice commanded.
She opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't say anything. Instead, she got up and began helping Jarod pack up his essentials. He grabbed all his clothes hanging in the closet and then retrieved a medium sized silver suitcase. Once everything was together, Trista helped him carry the laptop and his leather jacket.
He was closing the door while Trista began heading for the elevators, but Jarod's voice stopped her.
"Not the elevators, Trista. Follow me," he told her.
She obeyed, knowing instinctively that something was about to happen. They walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of the elevators and turned a corner. Jarod led her through the maze of corridors, with brass numbered doorways lining each side. Finally, he led her to a fire escape in the back of the building. Opening the window, he shoved all his things through first.
"You can't be serious Jarod," Trista squeaked, "I'm afraid of heights," she admitted.
It took Jarod a moment to calm his already fraying nerves; he took a deep breath and grabbed both of Trista's shoulders, looking deep into her dark eyes.
"Look at me, Trista. There is nothing to be afraid of. We'll go out the fire escape, climb down the ladder. Just remember, don't look down," Jarod instructed her, his voice level and soothing.
Nodding, "All right," she whispered.
He climbed out the window first, and then beckoned her to follow him. She took a deep breath before awkwardly pulling her body through the window with Jarod's help. He had made it look so easy. It really wasn't.
He lowered the black metal ladder and gave her a reassuring smile. After securing everything to his person, he began his descent to the streets below. She watched him, her whole body tense as every time his foot moved one rung lower, as one of his hands left the security of the rungs.
"Now or never, Trista," she coached herself, "Think of Caitlyn."
Holding her breath, she took secured the laptop to her person and carefully began to climb down. Jarod's voice encouraged her as she made her way down, until her foot finally reached the ground. She felt faint with relief and a heady sense of accomplishment.
Unfortunately there was no time to stare in wonder over her daring feat, for there was a shout from the window, and a man with dark hair and a black suit with a crisp white shirt poked his head out of the window.
"There he is!"
Jarod grabbed her hand and began tugging her away. They ran down the alleyway and disappeared from Sam's view.
Miss Parker pulled Sam out of her way, she managed to get her body out of the window and stood staring after Jarod, her gun drawn in readiness, as he and his accomplice disappeared around the corner.
"Damn it, Sam. Don't you ever get in my way again," Parker seethed as she turned to face her most trusted sweeper. Her eyes flashed fire, her mouth tightened into a grim line.
"I'm sorry, Miss Parker," Sam mumbled as she crawled back into the hotel.
"We were this close to capturing wonder-boy," she ranted as she walked down the hallway.
"Too bad he got away. As usual, sis," Lyle told her as he caught up to her quick strides back to the elevators.
"Can it, Lyle," Miss Parker snapped, not in the mood for his usual jabs at her inability to capture the lab rat.
"The Tower isn't going to be very happy about this, you know," Lyle warned, "Neither will Dad."
Miss Parker stopped, turned slowly to face her twin brother, the bane of her existence since the day he'd walked into her life, especially when he'd found out he was her brother.
"What I'd like to know, Lyle, where the hell were you when I was running down the science experiment?" she raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer he never gave her. "That's what I thought," she said imperiously as she swept away, her heels sounding muted clicks as she stalked down the hallway.
Before Lyle resumed walking after his sister, a secret smile played about his perfectly handsome face, "I was taking care of business, sister dear," he murmured as he began walking after his beloved twin.