Disclaimer: The characters are not my own, I'm only borrowing them to put them into situations of my own imagining.
Finding Family
Part Eight: Sharing Stories
Rating: G
Category: S
Timeline: Sometime in the middle of the series
Spoilers: None
Keywords: MPJF, JOF
Summary: Miss Parker accidentally shoots Jarod, which forces her to confront her feelings towards him. Meanwhile, a seriously injured Jarod has to learn to trust someone to help him and finds out a little about his family history.
Houston, Texas, Thursday afternoon
Emily rocked her small son humming softly. Her daughter was already asleep and she wanted this child to go down for his nap too. Ordinarily, she enjoyed holding the baby, but today she was anxious to have some time to herself. He fussed a bit as she lay him down in the crib, but he settled down sleepily as she patted his back a few times. She tiptoed out of the room and peeked in on her daughter who was sound asleep.
She hated to be a snoop, but her curiosity was getting the best of her. That morning she had emptied her unplanned guest's duffel bag and had done all his laundry. The leather jacket she had washed by hand and hung to dry in the bathroom. The heavy weight in the bag had been revealed as a silver suitcase. She had opened it briefly determining that it didn't hold any clothes but was some kind of electronic device. Then the baby had started crying and she had left it on the folding table in the laundry room.
Deliberately walking past the washroom next to the kitchen, she went to the back bedroom and stood over the bed looking down at the sleeping man. He had barely moved from how she had left him almost two hours earlier. His dark hair was damp against his forehead and he had a slight frown even in his sleep. He had a small mole by the corner of his right eye that she hadn't really noticed before. His nose was straight and his long face ended in a firm jaw, but she wasn't sure if he was good looking or not under the scraggly beard. She pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and gently wiped his forehead not wanting to wake him. Short of calling an ambulance, she had done all she could do and his recovery was up to him. Her days in the hospital had taught her that sometimes recovery had more to do with the patient's will to fight than her medical treatments. He needed the healing power of sleep more than anything now.
Just as deliberately, she now allowed herself to be drawn to the washroom and the mysterious silver case. She opened it again fingering the screen in the lid. The device resembled a laptop computer except that the keyboard was much more complex with dozens of extra symbols beyond the standard characters. Somehow the design looked like it was old fashioned except she had never seen anything like it. There was a small compartment along the front lip and finding the catch she lifted its lid to see a row of small silver disks stacked vertically along the row, probably a hundred of them. She carefully slid the first one out and imprinted on the center was merely a date—April 25, 1964. Curiously she lifted it and tilted it in the light creating rainbow-like diffraction patterns on its surface. It was the most curious looking computer disk she'd ever seen. There were a couple of switches and a small opening clearly made to accept these little disks. She experimented with flipping the switches expecting a light to come on or the screen to light up, but nothing seemed to happen on the screen. She started to push the little silver disk in the opening and felt a mechanism pull it smoothly out of her finger tips. The screen suddenly sprang to life. It was in black and white. It had a wide angle view of a room where a small dark haired boy about 4 or 5 was building a tall block tower that looked familiar some how but she couldn't place it. The child called out, "Hey! I'm finished!" and suddenly a man's face thrust into view from the side
"Thirty-six hours and he's already demonstrating more talent than any of our others," he said to someone behind the camera.
Mesmerized she watched disk after disk losing track of time completely. He sat suspended in some kind of hanging ball…he was taped with all sorts of monitors, crying out "I'm burning up!"… he crouched with a rifle in his hands, a familiar scene of an open convertible driving along on a screen in front of him and him shouting, "I can't do it alone!"…he worked feverishly on a box that blew up in his face with a loud bang and as the cloud of smoke cleared a harsh voice said, "Let that be a lesson to you: don't cut the wrong wire." She shook her head in horror as she realized this boy was being monitored continuously. She began skipping along picking disks at random watching the boy grow up into the man. She skipped to the very last one and saw it was indeed Jarod, perhaps only a few years younger than now. She stood with her mouth open, blinking, not sure even what to think.
"Enjoying my home movies?" a deep voice asked behind her and she startled guiltily. He was leaning heavily against the door frame but his brown eyes looked much clearer although pain shone clearly there.
"I'm sorry," Emily apologized gesturing, "I was doing laundry and was curious what this was…" she trailed off. "My God, why did they do that to you?" she blurted finally.
Jarod rolled his head to the side and looked embarrassed, "To control me."
Emily realized her knees were feeling shaky and wondered just how long she had stood there watching the movies, if that was what you could really call these surveillance videos. They were more like records of an experiment, than records of a child's life. She didn't know what to say to him so instead she said, "You must be hungry. Come sit at the table and I'll fix you something."
They both walked slowly and silently to the table. She pulled the chair out for him and he sank down gratefully onto the seat. She turned back to the kitchen, pulled a plastic container from the refrigerator and popped it in the microwave. While it has humming, she filled two glasses with ice and then sun tea from a large jar sitting on the counter. "Do you want sugar in your tea?" she asked. He shook his head no and she brought the glasses which he immediately began sipping. Returning to the refrigerator she pulled out a tub of margarine and grabbed some silverware from the drawer and set then on the table. Once more she returned with a loaf of homemade bread and finally the steaming hot container from the microwave, "It's lentil soup," she offered as she set it down in front of him.
Jarod leaned over the steaming bowl and inhaled deeply. His stomach growled loudly and he couldn't honestly remember the last time he had had anything to eat. He picked up a spoon and tasted the soup gingerly, but his face broke out into a wide grin as he swallowed the first bite. "It's delicious," he complimented her and she sat down to join him. He ate several more bites while she sliced a thick piece of bread and spread margarine on it and handed it to him. He swallowed some tea and then started on the bread. He didn't look up until the whole piece was almost gone, then he mumbled "Delicious," again with his mouth half full, looking rather sheepish as he devoured the meal.
She smiled at him over her glass of tea. She looked like she was about to say something when the baby began crying. "Help yourself to more," she gestured at the bread and then rose, walking out of the room to the hall to get the little boy.
Jarod enjoyed the meal immensely, eating the whole bowl of soup and two more slices of bread. She was gone a while and he could hear her murmuring to the baby while she changed his diapers. The two came back in the room and the little boy had a red cheek with a wrinkle mark on it where he had slept on a fold in the sheet. He still looked a little groggy and was sucking on his middle two fingers, the index and pinky resting on his cheeks on either side of his mouth. "Do you want any more?" she offered generously.
"No, thank you. It was very good. I'll get some tea though," he replied struggling to stand up.
"I got it," she said. Deftly carrying the child on her hip, she picked up both their glasses and filled them with more tea. She carried them back to the table one at a time and sat down again taking a sip from hers. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked and they both knew to what she was referring. They locked eyes in silence for a long moment and Emily could sense the gears turning in his head as he made his decision.
Jarod stared at the woman. He knew almost nothing about her. He vaguely remembered meeting her in the grocery store and getting in her car, but between the pain of his gunshot wound and the growing infection he had barely been able to stay conscious. Could he really trust her? How many of the DSA discs had she seen? How much did she know or guess about him already? If he wasn't completely honest, then he had a feeling she could sense that in him. She had brought him to her home and cared for his injuries. His gut instincts told him that she was trustworthy, and his experiences the last few years had taught him to listen to his feelings.
"They took me from my family when I was about four," he began, and Jarod told her his story glad to share it with someone he felt he could really trust. "I was raised by a corporation called the Centre. They kept me isolated from almost everyone except my teacher Sydney. I could never go outside. They controlled what I ate, when I slept, everything that I did, and if I didn't comply I was punished. I can imagine so well that I feel like other people in any situation. I can be a doctor, a fireman, an engineer, a pilot, absolutely anyone. I can pretend to be that person so well that you would never even suspect that I wasn't what I said I was. They used me. They developed and exploited my natural abilities in order to make money. When I was younger I believed their lies that my work was being used to help people. Then I discovered that they were corrupting my ideas, twisting them inside out to hurt and kill innocent people. I had to stop them. I had to atone for how my work had been used. Since I've escaped I've tried to help people that I have met, but I have to be careful since the Centre continues to look for me. So far they have been restrained because they wanted me back alive, but now I'm not so sure," he looked down at his shoulder. "It will be much harder to escape them if they don't mind bringing me back dead."
He didn't even notice she had started nursing the baby until she moved the child to sit up on her lap and began absentmindedly patting him on the back to burp. Jarod blushed slightly but she didn't even notice as she stared out the window over his shoulder at the dying afternoon. The drippy, gray sky was slowly darkening into a wet and gloomy night. Somehow the weather matched the mood. Emily was horrified and enthralled at the same time with his account of his life.
Finally realizing he had stopped talking, she shifted her gaze from the window back to his eyes. He could see both pity and respect in her eyes that had not been there before. She opened her mouth to speak but before anything came out she was interrupted by the little girl, Kimie.
"Mommy, I'm hungry. How come it's night time already?" whined the little girl.
"Oh, Sweetie, Mommy's sorry. I should have woken you up from your nap two hours ago. I'll get you some milk and some dinner." Emily stepped quickly into the living room and pulled out of the corner a large plastic disk with a sling seat in the center. She settled the baby into the excersaucer to play. Turning back to the little girl, she swept her up with a hug, settled her in a chair with a booster seat and pushed her up to the table. She cut a thin slice of bread, buttered it and set it in front of the hungry little girl. While Kimie took a big bite out of the middle, her mom went in the kitchen to get her a glass of milk and some soup.
Kimie ate the bread almost as quickly as Jarod had earlier. As she dropped the crust to the placemat, she smiled over at him with margarine smeared on both cheeks. He grinned back at her delighted with her childish manners. Behind her he could see the baby bouncing and gurgling happily in the living room. The table lamps glowed warmly casting a yellow light around the room that contrasted from the cold, dark gray outside the windows. The house was small and the furnishings simple but in Jarod's mind it was the richest house he'd ever been in. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of the simple joys of childhood that had been stolen from him. He couldn't remember anything of his life before he had been taken to the Centre.
Emily came back from the kitchen carrying with the child's dinner. As she set it down, the little girl pointed across the table, "Mommy, I think he's owie again. See?"
Seeing the haunted, stricken look on his face, Emily was immediately concerned. Her heart went out to the lost little boy that was still part of the man. "It will be alright," she reassured him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm lightly.
He looked up at her sadly, his throat too tight to even speak.
Emily took a deep breath and smiled brightly trying to cover up the awkwardness. "What kind of doctor am I? You have been up too long. I'm getting you right back to bed. You need some more antibiotics, and a lot more sleep. Come on," she ordered offering her hand and pulling him up out of the chair. Gratefully, he followed her. The physical and emotional pain were too much for him to even think for himself and he simply did as he was told. "I'll check on you later," she promised as she quite literally tucked him in. He felt like a small boy in the large, soft bed and closed his eyes, gratefully feeling the unconsciousness of sleep sweep all his pain away.
Raleigh, North Carolina, Thursday Evening
True to her word, Anna the secretary had sent a graduate student who was able to help the students and had left Miss Parker free to organize Jarod's desk. Parker had carefully looked through papers and made notes of the titles and dates of every single journal from the library, while Amanda and the class had worked on the afternoon's lab. Parker found her herself staring at the photograph of her mother and Amanda's mother again and again. It was taken inside, probably in a hospital room judging by the piece of equipment on the side of the room and it was from a low angle looking up at the two women's smiling faces. The question was, who had taken the picture?
After the class ended, Parker found herself driving along the highway following Amanda's car on the road back to Raleigh from Duke University in Durham. She was congratulating herself on having collected not only all the files from the lab, but also Jarod's computer from the departmental office. Suddenly, the fact that she had found them at all seemed like a glaring warning to her. Why hadn't they been collected immediately after sighting Jarod? Lyle and all the sweepers had scoured the neighborhood and the sewers, but it appeared they hadn't even checked the most obvious places. Parker's radar went up and she sensed a trap. She recalled her conversation with Broots earlier. He warned her that Raines was up to something. She was supposed to be in charge of the recapture of Jarod, but someone had clearly ordered all those sweepers into the field. If Raines and Lyle joined forces against her she would have to be very careful. It would be just like Lyle to set her up. If she brought all things back to the Centre, then she would not receive praise from her father, but anger for having disobeyed him and gone out alone again. Could she even be sure these were authentic? What if Lyle had manufactured this evidence to get her off of Jarod's trail? Come to think of it, how did he know to bring the sweepers to Durham in the first place? She slammed her hand against the steering wheel in anger and frustration. They were secretly monitoring her office again. She hated being treated like some peon, untrusted employee. She was a Parker!
Her thoughts were interrupted as Amanda turned into the parking lot of a restaurant. She signaled and followed in anger at first, but the smoky smell of grilled meat made her mouth water and her stomach growled loudly. She hadn't eaten all day. The last thing she had eaten was a soft bagel at the mall the night before.
Amanda called cheerily to her as they both got out of their parked cars. "Let me buy you dinner for helping me. I suddenly realized I couldn't read all those papers without some food in my stomach. I hope you are hungry too."
Parker nodded in agreement, "I have to admit it smells pretty good."
The two women walked into the restaurant and Amanda held the door open for Miss Parker. "This place has great food and can get really crowed on the weekends. It seemed perfect to stop now just before the dinner rush." A waitress seated them right away and handed them menus to peruse while she fetched them glasses of ice water.
Parker remained silent as she looked over the variety on the menu, still fretting about her tenuous position at the Centre. Amanda studied her surreptiously over her menu. When they had walked out of the chemistry building, Miss Parker had seemed pleased, but now she seemed angry. She hoped that she hadn't made Parker upset by suggesting dinner. Amanda found her so hard to read. Jarod had been so open and almost anxious to make eye contact and conversation. Miss Parker was closed and withdrawn, with a touch of aristocratic aloofness that rather insulted Amanda. "I know I'm younger than you, but I feel like we share a similar bond," Amanda began hesitantly.
Parker looked at her coldly with an arched eyebrow, seeming to dare Amanda to compare herself to her.
"I mean," Amanda faltered, "We both lost our mothers as girls."
Parker blinked as she really looked at the college girl across the table for the first time. She still had the thin body frame and face of a teenager. Her simple hair style and lack of makeup made her look young, but her eyes wore an expression of someone much older. She had experienced and overcome her grief, but she still felt the loss of her mother. "How old were you?" Parker asked gently.
"It was just before I turned fifteen. I was going to go to a concert with some friends but we cancelled everything and I didn't celebrate my birthday that year, or even the next," Amanda answered sadly.
"I know," nodded Parker, "holidays and special occasions lose their meaning when you are reminded too much of the person who is gone."
"How old were you?" asked Amanda.
Parker stared off in space, reluctant to share her story because she knew she would find it hard to repress her emotions.
"I'm sorry," Amanda quickly filled the silence, "you probably don't want to talk about it. I shouldn't ask such personal questions."
"No, it's okay," replied Parker. "I asked you the same question," she paused. "I guess I was trying to decide which time."
"What do you mean, which time?" asked Amanda in confusion.
Parker stared down at her hands forcing her fingers to remain motionless and not fidget. "I was ten when they told me she committed suicide. I really missed her when I was the age you were, fourteen, after my father sent me away to boarding school. Then last year I learned that she had been murdered, and it has brought all those feelings back again."
"I can't imagine going away to boarding school. My Dad and I are best friends. I don't think either one of us would have survived the last four years if we didn't have each other. In fact, I haven't told him anything about this investigation Jarod started. I don't even want to get my own hopes up. Do you think there's a chance my mother could still be alive?"
"I don't know," Parker replied honestly, "I haven't seen the connection in all the information we've found that Jarod saw."
The waitress arrived with their water and took their order for dinner. Parker asked Amanda leading questions and let her do all the talking. Amanda told her about her happy childhood, the strong bond that she shared with her father, and how she choose to go to college nearby to stay living at home with him. Parker found herself becoming irrationally jealous of the young woman. It seemed so simple when she listened to Amanda. Why was it so hard for her to bond with her own father?
They were finishing up the large salads they had ordered with grilled chicken strips artfully strewn across the bed of greens when Amanda turned the tables on Parker. "I've been hogging all the conversation. Enough about me. What about you? Where did you go to college?"
Parker nearly choked on the bite of chicken, "Tokyo," she finally replied.
"You mean Japan?" Amanda said in amazement.
Parker merely nodded yes. She wasn't used to the give and take of conversation between people when they share stories and become friends. She had always been the one in charge, the interviewer, and never shared herself. She had held herself above other people like her father had taught her, and so she had developed very few adult friends.
Amanda could see that Parker was not going to elaborate, so she decided to try more recent history. "I'm curious about something you said about finding out about your mother's death for a second time. You said you just found out that your mother was murdered. How did that happen? Is there a police investigation?"
Parker's comfort level suddenly dropped to subzero levels. She had been enjoying the meal, but now she felt her heart race and her muscles tense. She didn't want Amanda to know too much about her life. The reality of the Centre was too horrible for this innocent young woman to fully realize. Maybe she could give just enough truth to satisfy her. "Actually, Jarod is the one who showed me the evidence that she was shot."
"Oh, did you hire him to investigate it for you?" asked Amanda.
Parker actually laughed, "Me? Hire Jarod. Not hardly, he volunteered his services without my consent."
"I thought you two were friends, and that he asked you to help me," responded Amanda growing confused by Miss Parker's comments.
"I haven't talked to Jarod in several weeks. I believe you were the last person to talk to him on Tuesday night," Parker confessed. "By the way, did he tell you where he was going?"
"No, just that something had come up and that he had to leave town right away, and that he would ask some associates of his to help. How did you know to come if you haven't spoken with him?"
"He left a note," replied Parker simply.
Amanda studied Parker a moment surprised at the changes in her attitude. One moment Parker was pleased, then angry, then calm, the next tense, then laughing and now rather depressed. "You're worried about him," she observed wisely. Parker startled and stared back. She didn't want to admit to herself that she was worried, let alone to this stranger. But the sincere look in Amanda's eyes as she said, "I'm worried too," made Parker trust her. Parker's eyes filled with moisture as the flood of emotions that had been too long dammed threatened to burst out after only one day of letting them peek out.
Fortunately, the waitress returned to take their plates and leave the check. Amanda quickly snatched the bill and stood up, "I'll cover this. I have to go to the ladies' room. I'll be right back."
Gratefully, Parker watched the young woman walk away and leaving her alone to compose herself. It was time to get back to Jarod's lair at the Private Investigations shop, dig through all the papers and find the connection he had seen. That would be the clue to lead her to him, to more truth about her own mother, and possibly even to Amanda's mother. Parker had grown to like the girl and hoped her family life could have the happy ending that her own life could never have.
Houston, Texas, Thursday night
While Jarod slept, Emily fed and entertained her children and went through the evening routines of bath time and reading at bedtime. But the whole time in the back of her mind she was trying to sort out the story Jarod had told her. A genius who could become anyone he wanted to be and so completely impersonate the character that he could fool everyone? It was almost as farfetched as the story of this Centre place. She was as well read and as well educated as anyone could be. If it was as sinisterly powerful as he described it, then how come she had never even heard of it? On the other hand, the video discs she had watched that afternoon were like nothing she had ever seen before. They were clearly real recordings. And the pain she had seen in his eyes was real emotional pain from having grown up with that twisted childhood.
"Mommy, Mom-my!" Kimie interrupted her circling train of thoughts.
"Yes, sweetie," Emily focused on her daughter sitting on the bed next to her. She had been listening to the little girl read her favorite Dr. Seuss book for the umpteenth time and had found it hard to pay attention to her with the mystery of Jarod rolling in the back of her mind.
"I said, How come he knew our special song?"
"Who? What song?" Emily asked tiredly, staring down at the book in the child's hands.
"The sick man," the little girl replied impatiently.
"You mean Jarod? He wasn't singing any song, honey."
The little girl looked up at Emily with a suddenly very grown up look in her face. Emily felt like she had become the child as Kim tried very hard to explain to her, "How come Mr. Jarod knew our song at the store yester-night?"
"Yesterday," Emily corrected absently and stared off in space again. So much had happened, she had almost forgotten the circumstances of why she had decided to bring this strange man Jarod home.
"Why, Mommy?" demanded the little girl again.
Emily smiled proudly down at her daughter amazed at the little girl's memory and perception. Why indeed? He had sung along on the little nonsense song that her grandmother used to sing to her and that she had taught to the little girl. This made Jarod seem even more a mysterious than before. She shrugged, "I guess his Mommy taught him just like I taught you."
The little girl nodded back satisfied with that answer and finished reading the last few pages. Emily tucked her in and kissed her goodnight on the forehead. She walked into the kitchen and began doing the dishes all her thoughts a whirl. Was the explanation really that simple? Did his family share the same nonsense song?
Suddenly she dropped the spoon she was washing with a clatter into the sink and slapped the spigot down to turn off the water. A half remembered story had just come to mind and she needed to talk to her mother right away.
