Part II

Chapter Ten – A New Player

The next Monday, Miss Parker went to The Centre in good spirits and she knew why. Despite her resolve to ignore his humanity, there was something in Jarod that could not be dismissed. He still felt concern for her regarding the recent discovery of her paternity, and his naïveté and brutal honesty allowed him to bring up the subject when she thought it long buried, thus helping her to accept it. In addition, his rivalry with her gave him a brazen spirit that had only been slightly dampened by captivity, and he was unafraid to say anything.

But she knew it was a façade – his soul was clouded and his sleep troubled. On the couple of nights she had come to make sure he was alright, he tossed and turned constantly, unable to find refuge from his nightmares and further tangling himself in his chains. And Miss Parker felt slightly guilty, unable to help Jarod the way he'd helped her.

Nothing rubbed it in more than how she found him when she returned.

She had ordered pizza because she wasn't in the mood for Chinese food, and she didn't feel like cooking. Unsure of Jarod's preferences, she called and asked him what he wanted on his half of the pizza. He replied, somewhat despondently, "It doesn't matter."

To the person on the other end, Miss Parker said, "Extra pepperoni, extra cheese. Small. Two cokes. Medium." After a while, she smiled into the phone. "Mm-hmm. You, too." Then she hung up.

She took some money out of her purse and left it on the coffee table. Then she excited the room to join Jarod.

He was sitting in his corner, the laptop behind him repeating a certain DSA over and over again. The rest lay around him, as if he had been searching for something. Like the newspapers strewn all over the floor, it was about a plane crash. The titles of the articles mimicked the briefing Jarod received before the simulation. "400 Dead" ... "Pilots Suspected of Suicide" ... "Airline Cover-Up" ... "A Second 9-11".

Jarod spoke in an angry, bitter, impassioned voice. "Look at those DSAs, Miss Parker. Don't tell me none of them have to do with death." He picked one up and spun it on his finger. "My death, the death of others ... My legacy is death, Miss Parker. All this time, I've searched for atonement, as ell as my family, and when I think I've found it, or them ..." Jarod glared at his captor. "The Centre is there to make me start at square one."

"It's not your fault, Jarod," she said quietly.

Just as softly, he asked, "Can't you imagine the pain, the anxiety, the fear they felt as they crashed into that building? I might have done something to save them."

Attempting to get him to defer his blame, she responded, "You can't save them all."

His voice shredded with fury, he growled, "That's what Sydney said. My response is still the same ... I can try."

The doorbell rang. Jarod looked up at Miss Parker. "I assume that's your pizza," he remarked flatly. Then he turned and slumped, as if weary. She left, but from the living room, he heard the pizza man's thankfulness for her large gratuity before she entered again.

She might as well have stayed outside. Jarod neither responded to her calls nor reacted to her touch. In the end, she left him alone.

Miss Parker sat at her kitchen table, chewing on a slice of pizza and slowly sipping her drink. As she did so, she studied an old picture of her family. Her young self stood between her mother and father, blissfully unaware of the harsh future. It had been long since she lost her father, but even longer since she lost the humanity Jarod hung on to for survival.

She lay awake in bed that night. The metallic rustle would not stop – Jarod's pacing was keeping her awake. Miss Parker glanced at the empty space to her right and contemplated the empty space in his heart, and she knew that although they were very close, they were still very far.

Miss Parker entered Jarod's room considerably later than usual the next morning. Already in an irritable mood, she was further irked by his apparent cheerfulness and tossed him the pizza box. "Here. I don't care if it's cold," she said harshly.

Concerned by her display of malcontent, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"I was kept up half the night by your pacing." Jarod stared sheepishly at the man donned in a toga on the lid of the box. "I have half a mind to take you back to The Centre, but a certain someone's sitting like a lame duck."

Jarod wondered at the hidden clue and inquired as she walked out, "What does Lyle have to do with me?"

She returned with a soda, also cold, and thrust it in his hands. Then, her face very close to his, Miss Parker made her next statements clear. "Mr. Lyle doesn't have anything to do with anything. It's me you should be worrying about."

She left and slammed the door, further vexed by Jarod yelling at her, "Thanks for the pizza!"

Left alone, Jarod munched thoughtfully on a slice as he mentally reprimanded himself for the gross overlook he'd made. Lyle had never entered into his equation, and now that he was there, several things began making sense.