Pretences

Chapter Three

From behind his desk Sydney watched Miss Parker and Broots enter the room, true to her tradition, Parker's face was edged in anger and frustration. Sometimes he wondered why they were still trying to catch Jarod after all these years, it wasn't like they were ever going to succeed. They didn't want to either. Or perhaps they did, but not as badly as they used to. Parker used to smash objects when they'd failed, but now she merely grumbled and then went home. Perhaps the only reason they were still after Jarod was because they were used to and to make sure the Triumvate didn't assign another team to the task.

"Five minutes, we missed him by five minutes." He knew better than to respond to her short lived tirade and instead motioned Broots to take place behind the terminal. It was good to see the man wasn't as shy and skittish as he used to be, even though he never seemed totally at ease.

"Jarod called" he explained the questioning looks of his team mates, "he wants us to search for information about a genetically modified woman; thirty, thirty-five years and black eyes and hair." The computer genius nodded enthusiastically and began the search, Parker on he other hand, growled and started pacing.

"I don't get it, we're supposed to hunt him. Why do we help him?"

"Because we want the truth about The Centre, and admit it Parker; you wouldn't know what to do without him." Sydney hid his smile as he could nearly see steam coming out her ears.

=/\=

Deanna woke from a familiar scent teasing her nostrils and rolled onto her side, her muscles objecting even to that simple movement. As she sat upright the slight headache she still had increased for a moment, causing a wave of dizziness to roll over her. She groaned slightly but stood up anyway, grateful when her headache diminished to but a dull throbbing. It wasn't until she started to look for her clothes that she realized what had happened and she had to fight hard to hold back her tears. It had been the first night she'd slept alone in over three months and she missed Will already.

Having nothing to wear she slid back into the robe she'd worn the previous night and walked into the living room. She found Jarod in the small kitchen and wrinkled her nose as the scent of scrambled eggs assaulted her senses. Her host turned and smiled invitingly "want some?"

"No thanks, I've never developed a taste for it."

"It is quite tasty" he muttered while chewing.

"That's what Will said." She recalled. He had tried to make her eat it the first time they'd lunched together onboard the Enterprise.

"Will?"

Smart move Deanna, she chided herself. "Erm…he's a friend." He was. Will had been her friend ever since they'd met again onboard the Enterprise, and even now that they were engaged –again—he was still first and for most her best friend.

"Well, perhaps you should call him, to tell him you're okay."

Oh you're smart. "I-uh, he's…out of reach." Sometimes she hated the ethical Betazoid standard of being truthful, she really didn't like lying, but at times it could be handy.

"Miss Troi, no one is unreachable on this planet."

Unless they're three hundred and something years in the future Deanna added silently. "Deanna, please." She corrected him "and he really can't be reached."

"I'm sorry. He isn't dead yet is he?"

Technically he wasn't even born yet, none of her loved ones were. "I'm alone." She suddenly realized. Truly, wholly alone. There wasn't a person on this planet she knew, save for the man who had found her. Tears formed now that she understood the full scope of her situation; she had no idea where she was, or where her shuttle was and even if she could find the shuttle she doubted she had enough engineering skills to get it flying again. She had no friends, no people who could help and was cut of from her very culture. Jarod was the only person she knew and he was bent on finding out who she was and where she came from…what could she do? She hardly knew anything about this period on Earth, if only Will was there with her…if only.

Jarod watched the dance of emotions on his visitor's face; they changed from sudden realization to shock and to despair and then she began to cry. Acting on instinct he reached around and laid his arm around her shaking shoulders. She dropped her head into her hands, tossing her long curls forward. At the base of her skull he could see an intricate, black tattoo of little symbols unlike he had ever seen before. He couldn't link the tattoo to The Centre directly but decided to run it through the databases anyway. He wasn't normally so bent on finding out who someone was or where they came from, but the skeletal make up of this woman and her brainscans…it was a mystery he couldn't resist. "I'm alone" she stated again.

"I know what it's like" he admitted as he returned to his seat. "I know what it's like to be alone" Jarod clarified at Deanna's confused expression "to come home to an empty place time after time after time." With her mind focussed on that of the man in front of her, Deanna could tell just how lonely he really was. He seemed happy, and he was, yet the loneliness he felt was eating at his heart. Somehow, she thought, his spirit had recognized a kindred spirit in her own.

"Don't you have family?"

"I was taken from my family when I was very young. I have been trying to find them for what seems like forever."

"That's awfull," she blurted, reaching out to touch his hand, "what about your friends?"

"Friends…" Jarod repeated dreamily "I guess I could say I have a handful of them." A wry smile curled itself around his lips and he added "albeit in a love/hate relationship."

"How so?" Unbidden, Troi found herself slipping into Counselor-mode and drawing comfort from her profession.

"Let's say that they like to hunt me and I like to pull jokes on them." The Betazoid could sense that there was more truth behind the statement that Jarod wanted her to know, but she decided not to push further. "What do you do for a living?"

A subtle way to change the subject, but she didn't mind, she was done with remembering friends that weren't there. "I'm a psychologist." She answered truthfully, keeping track of his emotions. Usually people felt somewhat uncomfortable around a psychologist, even in the twenty-fourth century. Jarod however, only showed fond amusement.