With a Wink and a Nod 2
by MMB
[Author's note: for Laura and Maestra. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you both. - MMB]
Jarod sighed and closed the motel room door behind him and slid the dead bolt into place. Another night, another rented room, and no sign of his family. He was cold and he was tired and he was heartsick. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and the closest he'd managed to come to spending the Holidays with someone he cared about was to make a quick call to Philadelphia and talk to Emily. She hadn't heard from their father either - nor from Ethan, nor from the boy who, she told him, now called himself Josh. And no, there was still no sign of their mother either.
Since Carthis, he'd been particularly loath to do much more Pretending. Miss Parker had told him the search for him had moved into a new and more dangerous phase, and he wasn't in the mood to take many more chances. The game between them was finally beginning to wear thin, and he had no intent to jeopardize his freedom just to keep things at status quo with the Centre. Unfortunately, that meant as a consequence that his contact with others at this time of year was also sparse. Christmas was a time for families - and this year he was facing the fact that his family was still scattered to the four winds out of sheer necessity. He slumped onto the bed and hooked up his laptop to the phone line in hopes of at least an email from his father, then had to fight the temptation to just slam the lid of the delicate computer closed in frustration when there wasn't a single piece of new mail in his inbox - not even a single piece of spam advertising.
He knew there were several places he could go and find people who'd be willing to share their holiday spirit with him, but it just wasn't the same. Just once - just ONCE - he'd give anything to be with those he loved and knew well. That thought gave him an idea, and he fought against even that for a while. Certainly she was fast asleep now - he glanced at his wristwatch and noted the very late hour - and waking her in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve could be considered the height of rudeness. Then again, she considered him crass and rude anyway, so there was no expectation to demolish. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the first programmed number. He blinked in surprise when the phone on the other end rang four times before it was picked up.
"Guess what? I'm not here, and you're talking to a stupid machine. So you can either wait until I get home to call back, or you can leave a name and number so I can call you back. Your choice." BEEP.
Jarod stared at the cell phone and disconnected the call immediately. She wasn't there? Where in hell WAS she?
This wasn't like her - Christmas had been a lonely time for her for as long as he could remember, certainly in the years since he'd escaped the Centre. Her father - or, at least, the man who claimed to be her father for so long - usually had something else more important than spending time with his love-starved daughter. Those Christmas Eve calls had become almost a lifeline - one of the few times he could almost reconnect with the girl who had been his best friend years before - but not this year. This year, when the father who never showed her the affection she craved was just over a year dead, she had evidently found someplace else to be. He could only hope that it was a happier place.
He tipped his hand again and stared at the digital display. Sydney retired early, he knew - rousting his former mentor out of a sound sleep just to demand where Miss Parker had gone to would probably do very little to lighten his mood. Despite his calm and genteel exterior, Jarod knew all too well that his mentor had a temper - and had long since learned to avoid instances that could trigger it. Besides, with any luck, Sydney was in Albany with Michelle and Nicholas.
It wasn't fair. He didn't even have Zoë to call anymore - her remission had ended and she had died that past summer. He'd attended the funeral, and her Granny - having finally been informed of the real nature of his relationship with her granddaughter - had offered to let him rent a room from her if he wanted to stay. At the time the very thought had been too painful, and he'd declined; now he knew that it wouldn't have worked anyway, because he still would have been a perpetual outsider there.
As for Nia - he had lost track of her years ago, after she had married another young ranger and had a child. She didn't need an old beau showing up unannounced, looking as haunted now as he had during the brief time she'd known him years ago. There was always Harriet, but he was fairly sure that the Centre still kept at least one man watching her place, just in case he would try to show up there again, and he wasn't about to put his parents' old friend in any more danger than she'd been in on his behalf already.
No, the more he thought about it, the more he knew that the only place he would feel that he actually belonged was Delaware - even if he had to hang around outside the homes of others in the cold and the snow. Would Sydney mind very much if he broke into the comfortable Washington Avenue home and soaked up just being surrounded by his former mentor's presence for a little while?
It really didn't matter anymore. Jarod threw his few belongings back into his black canvas duffel bag and packed up his computer. There would be no resting for him here - and it was several hours' drive to Blue Cove. He stopped at the next open 24hr gas station he could find and not only filled his gas tank, but stocked up on caffeinated beverages. He had no intention of falling asleep behind the wheel tonight.
He was on his way home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The roads were nearly empty, which was just as well due to the weather. Jarod popped the top on another Jolt cola and downed half of it in a single draught. It was snowing heavily - and he could feel the occasional patches of black ice disconnect his wheels from solid ground every once in a while. It was taking every last ounce of his concentration and driving skills to keep himself safely on the road and moving toward Delaware and then, once he'd driven through Dover, toward Blue Cove.
Oddly, once he'd settled on a plan of action, his mood had lifted considerably. He wasn't exactly sure why, and he had enough on his mind to keep himself moving along the dangerous highway safely that he couldn't think about it too much right now, but there was an insight that he knew was beckoning him within the realization that 'home', to him, was a small seaside village in Delaware where the people he'd been eluding for the past six years lived.
He aimed his car down the two-lane road that connected Blue Cove with the rest of the world, shuddering just a little as he drove past the looming Centre Tower without slowing down. The lights were on in the Tower - and he didn't even want to hazard a guess as to what might be going on within those imposing walls. He may well have grown up there, but that wasn't home. Once he was past the property line and fairly certain that no black sedans had pulled onto the lane behind him, he let his mind rest on that thought - and just what it was that he was returning to. It wasn't the place, obviously. It was the people - Parker, Sydney - the only two people he truly cared about other than a nebulous family that never seemed able to find itself. It was to them that he was returning, albeit only peripherally.
Blue Cove was upon him almost before he knew it, and he made the turn onto Jefferson Street, which was the connector lane to Sydney's Washington Avenue home. And then he hit the brakes and stared at the house and the cars parked there - Parker's Boxster was nestled up to the garage door in the driveway and, wouldn't you know it, a black Centre-issue sedan was parked at the curb. Something was going on - something VERY strange indeed.
Jarod pulled to the opposite curb and climbed from behind the wheel of his car, closing the door as quietly as he could, and walked across the street. There was a side window to the garage that he could peek into that would hopefully shed some light on the situation within - and Jarod did a double-take when he saw Sydney's Lincoln parked within, as it normally would be if the older man were actually home. But he wouldn't be, would he? And what was Parker doing here at THIS hour of the night - why not in her own bed? And the house was dark, as if everyone inside were sleeping...
The Pretender stood for a moment of absolute dumbfounded indecision, and then turned to go back to his car. If Parker were with Sydney, that would mean that HER house would be empty. He was cold, he was tired, and he knew that his body now desperately needed at least a few hours' sleep. He slipped back behind the wheel and started up the engine without any more noise than necessary and drove off to the end of Washington Avenue and onto Madison Street to regain the seaside lane.
He'd been in her house often enough over the years he'd been free that getting past her alarm system was more a question of just unlocking the house. Once inside, he moved to the living room and stared.
She'd actually taken the time to put up a tree this year. Out of tired curiosity, he found the plug and turned on the lights and stepped back to admire her handiwork at decoration. The tree sparkled gaily with hundreds of the tiny colored lights. He unplugged the tree again and moved up the stairs toward her bedroom. Normally he had to move very carefully so as not to awaken her - breaking into her house while she was sleeping had been his routine for a very long time - so he found himself even now avoiding the two places on her stairs that tended to creak beneath his footfall. He slipped into the bedroom and stared at the neatly made bed that had no occupant in it that night.
Were it not for the fact that he was fairly certain that she was safe in Sydney's home, this sight would have worried him greatly. As it was, all he could feel was intense loneliness. She wasn't HERE. His best friend had found somewhere else to be. He should be happy for her - and he swallowed hard at the sudden surge of jealousy that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his soul. Why could she feel comfortable spending Christmas with Sydney when the older man had never once invited HIM to fill the empty time that had resulted with Jacob's death? How dare she find in Sydney the father she'd never had when the psychiatrist had resolutely refused to be in any way parental towards HIM!
Jarod sat down heavily on the edge of her bed and tipped into the pillows, drawing in a long breath that was filled with the faint scent of her perfume. Even empty, this bed smelled of home - of her. He closed his eyes, unable to stay awake a moment longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Miss Parker roused as the little boy who had nestled so gently in her arms through the night began to squirm. A gentle little hand brushed at her cheek as it lay on the pillow. "Melly?" he asked softly, carefully. "Melly? You 'wake?"
Slowly she opened her eyes to find herself staring into a set of grey orbs that looked exactly like her own, and then blinked the remains of her dream into the fog of sleep. "Good morning, little man," she mumbled with a soft smile and cuddled his closer.
"Melly!" The little boy squirmed just a little harder in her embrace. "Do you fink dat story Sydney tol' last night was true?"
Last night? Oh yeah - last night. Miss Parker's smile grew just a little, remembering the sight and sound of Sydney sitting in an easy chair near his blazing fireplace reading "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" with a rapt little boy nestled against his chest, held close. It had made her wish that she'd grabbed her camera to capture the moment. Debbie Broots had been at Sydney's feet leaning against his knee, with her and Broots sitting side by side on the couch as the accented voice had risen and fallen and given life to the old rhyme. The reading had even given her the first hint that this would be a real Christmas for her, and not just another holiday to try to forget - the first in a very long time. And this was her little brother's first REAL Christmas. "I don't know," she finally answered him. "What should we do?"
"We could go down an' see if der's stockings hanging f'um da mangle..." the little boy suggested with bright eyes.
"Mantle," she corrected gently and kissed his forehead.
"What a mangle, Melly?" the tot wanted to know next.
"A mantle is the shelf over the fireplace - you know, where Sydney had all those pictures of people he knows." She'd been astonished and more than a little complimented to find her own likeness staring out from among the collection; and Sydney had deliberately avoided her gaze when she would have asked him about it, so the question of why she'd been included had gone unasked.
"When we gonna go down an' see?"
She chuckled. "Don't you think we should wait until Sydney's up?" she reasoned with the boy.
"Me go get Sydney up," the child offered immediately, squirming hard enough this time to slip from her grasp and slide off the edge of the mattress onto bare feet.
"Wait," Miss Parker called, but already it was too late - the tot had left the bedroom door open and was padding across the hallway to the other bedroom door.
"Sydney?" he inquired, remembering to knock first before barging in. He pushed the door open and walked right up to the edge of the bed to stare into the older man's oddly grizzled face before reaching out and jiggling a shoulder. "Sydney? You 'wake?"
Slowly the chestnut eyes came open and then blinked at the odd sight of a small child peering at him in excitement while a moderately disheveled Miss Parker calmly tied her bathrobe shut in his doorway. "Sorry, Syd, he got away from me," she told the sleepy man with a chagrined look on her face.
Finally Sydney's brain clicked into full gear, and he took the little boy's hand in his. "What's all this about?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye that had Miss Parker chuckling.
"Saint Nicholas," the boy explained patiently, amazed that neither adult seemed all that enthusiastic. "Him comed, you fink?"
"I'm not sure," Sydney said, propping himself up on an elbow. "Miss Parker, did you hear anything?"
She shook her head. "I didn't hear a single reindeer hoof, honest."
"Me check! Me check!" The little boy was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Sydney looked down and saw the bare feet. "It's cold downstairs, little one. Your feet are going to be frozen."
"I tell you what," Miss Parker stated finally. "You come back into our room and put on a robe and slippers, and maybe we can go down and see if the stories are true." That seemed to satisfy, and the child trotted happily away from Sydney, past his sister and back toward the guest room. "I think it's time to get up, Syd," Miss Parker told her old friend with a chagrined smile. "I don't think we can hold him up here much longer."
"Take your time getting him bundled - give me a chance to at least wake up Sam before all hell breaks loose." Sydney threw back the covers and reached for his flannel robe that was thrown across the foot of the bed.
"I'll do what I can - but I suggest you get a move on," was all she could promise before turning to head back to the guest room and a now VERY excited child.
Chuckling all the way, Sydney walked down the stairs and into the living room to lean over the back of the couch and give the sweeper's shoulder a shove. "Sam, Sam! You'd better wake up - the troops are about to come thundering down the stairs..."
Sam blinked into awareness faster than Sydney had imagined possible, but sat up and yawned to give lie to the appearance. "Thanks for the warning, doc," was about all the bodyguard was able to say before...
"HE COMED!"
There was a blur of red flannel as the little boy sped to the mantle and the over-stuffed stocking that was hung to the side. A delighted face turned to the adults behind him. "Is dis for ME?"
"Absolutely, kiddo," Sam said with an utterly straight face while sleepily scratching at the whiskers on his jaw. "Saint Nick told me to make sure that you opened that stocking there first thing..."
"You seed him?" The boy's grey eyes were wide and awed. "Him talked to you?"
"He kinda couldn't help it - he woke me up comin' down the chimney like that..." Sam glanced at his boss and saw that she was having a very difficult time keeping from laughing out loud as she found her place in the easy chair Sydney had occupied the night before.
"Well, go on," Sydney urged, finally finding the tie to his bathrobe, "let's see what Saint Nick brought you." He stepped over to the mantle and waited until the little boy had a good hold on the stocking before pulling out the pin that held it up.
"Oh, LOOK, Melly..." the tike gasped as he carried the stocking over to his sister and proceeded to empty it into her lap.
Miss Parker put her hand on her little brother's head as he sorted through the toys and candies that nearly overflowed her lap and then looked up into the faces of the two men who stood quietly watching her. "Thank you," she mouthed at them both.
Sydney nodded briskly and then turned to Sam. "I'll go make some coffee - you're welcome to freshen up in the bathroom upstairs."
Sam thanked him and, after taking the time to fold up the sheet and blanket that had turned a couch into a remarkably comfortable spot to sleep, took the hint and made his way upstairs. Sydney stood and watched as a young woman who was usually too busy to bother with anybody she viewed as lesser than herself ooohed and ahhed over plastic cars and candy canes as if they were treasure, and then shuffled in his slippers toward the back of the house and the coffee pot. Already the day had started out well - and there was no telling what other moments of quiet joy were yet to come.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jarod rolled over and grunted as the sunbeam finally penetrated both eyelid and sleep. As he didn't normally actually fall as deeply asleep as he had then, he rolled up very quickly to assess his surroundings, only gradually relaxing when he realized where he was and why he had run the risk of actually coming there. Almost guiltily, he rose quickly and straightened the covers so that there was no sign that he'd even touched the bed, and then made his way back down the stairs again.
There was the bottom part of a carton of milk in her fridge, and this he used with an oddly nutritious and good tasting granola cereal he found in her cupboards as breakfast. Sitting at the table, he'd done a double take when he'd found her cell phone on its charger on the table, waiting for its owner to return. This was DEFINITELY out of character for her - no cell phone and not at home meant that the Centre couldn't get in contact with her. What was she trying to avoid - and how was Sydney involved?
He washed and put away the dishes he'd used - the only sign that he'd been there being the now-empty milk carton that was rinsed and in her trash compactor. But he had been alone about as long as he could stand. He drew his own cell phone out of his pocket again and punched in the fourth programmed number - Sydney's home phone - and waited.
"This is Sydney," came the calm, accented voice of his mentor.
"Merry Christmas, Sydney," Jarod intoned as he knew his old teacher would be expecting.
"And a Merry Christmas to you, Jarod." The old man's voice sounded light, soft, even happy - and there was the sound of a child's excited voice in the background that was completely unexpected. "I trust you're having a good day?"
"I'm a little surprised," the Pretender admitted sourly. "Since when does Miss Parker spend Christmas with you - and why aren't you in Albany with Michelle and Nicholas?"
Sydney was quiet for a short moment, puzzled at the odd tone in his protégé's voice. "Jarod? Are you all right?"
"I thought Christmas was for families, Sydney."
"It is," the psychiatrist nodded. "Very much so."
"Then why aren't you with yours?"
"Because," Sydney sighed, "Michelle and Nicholas promised to spend the Holidays with the Stamatis family this year."
That took Jarod aback a bit. "Oh." Then he frowned. "And Miss Parker?"
"Miss Parker?" Sydney's eyes brushed those of his coworker's as she poured herself a cup of coffee and then reached for the phone. "I'll let her explain things to you."
"Sydney, wait..."
"What do you want, Jarod?" she demanded with her best Ice Queen tone of voice.
Jarod stood there with his mouth open, not knowing quite how to demand to know what she thought she was doing at Sydney's. The both of them had been so alone for so long, so hurt - especially on this day - how could he possibly begrudge her this. "Forget it," he said in a defeated tone. "I didn't mean to disrupt your celebration."
Parker blinked. This wasn't the taunting voice of a man who continually danced just beyond her reach. "Jarod," she tried again, this time in a much more conversational tone - the quick shift catching Sydney's attention immediately. "What is it? Where are you?"
"Just trying to get home and not finding it," Jarod answered cryptically. "One question?"
"What?"
"I hear a child's voice in the background."
She smiled. "That's my little brother. Sydney helped me... uh... liberate him yesterday when Raines tried to tell me he was too sick to spend the holiday weekend with me."
"And you're over there trying to avoid the Centre for as long as you can," Jarod nodded, understanding now. "Did he have a good Christmas?"
"He's probably going to have a stomach-ache from all the candy, but yes. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy." She looked at Sydney's expression of concern. "What about your Christmas, Jarod? Are you with your family?"
"No," Jarod replied darkly, and then sighed. "I'm glad you're having a good time, Miss Parker. But I saw a Centre sedan too..."
Miss Parker nodded knowingly. He must be somewhere very close by. "Sam's here - just in case Raines or Lyle finds us and thinks they can haul my little brother back to the Centre before I'm ready to bring him back." She hesitated, and then said a little softer, "I'm sorry you aren't with your family this year. This isn't a time to be by yourself."
"Well, I really don't have much choice in the matter, now do I, Miss Parker?" he retorted with all the frustration he felt ringing clear. "I might even have tried to..." No, he didn't want to tell her what he'd been thinking - she might be able to figure out what he'd decided as an alternative course of action. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing," he said as the anger evaporated, leaving him just empty and alone again. "Enjoy your time, and tell Sydney I'm glad things are going so well there."
"Jarod..." Miss Parker pulled the receiver from her ear and stared at it when he disconnected abruptly. She looked over at Sydney. "Something's wrong. I've never heard him sound like that before."
"Like what?" Sydney was attentive - if it caught Miss Parker's attention, then it must have been important.
"He sounds lost. He said he had been trying to go home, but he couldn't find it - or something like that." She gazed at him. "He's close by - he knew Sam was here."
"Tried to go home..." Sydney's eyes narrowed as he searched his mind for what Jarod could have been talking about, then opened them wide as the realization hit. "You don't suppose he tried to come here - expecting me to be gone..."
Miss Parker's eyes narrowed as well. "Which means he stayed close... oh hell." She looked at him with a combination of disgust and frustration. "How much do you want to bet that he's at my place?"
Sydney nodded slowly. "It makes sense." Then he watched his nominal superior carefully. "What do you intend to do?"
She looked at the receiver in her hand and then dialed.
Jarod started as the telephone began to ring, and then sat very still to see if it was as he feared. The answering machine on the counter picked up the line after the fourth ring and ran through its outbound spiel. Immediately after the BEEP, Miss Parker's voice filled the room. "Pick up - I know you're there."
He stood as if preparing to flee. She knew he was here in her house - no doubt Sam would be crashing through her front door any moment...
"Listen to me," she was saying when she didn't get the response she wanted, "we're both a little on the run today. I don't want to bring Centre attention to me anymore than you want it brought to you. And I think I know how you're feeling right now..."
Sydney was watching her with his chestnut eyes wide. What in the world was she doing?
"Come home, Jarod," she said, putting away any residue of the Miss Parker Rules The Centre voice that could chill a man where he stood. "It's Christmas, for God's sake. I can honor a truce for the day. Broots and Debbie are going to be here in a little while, and we're going to have a big dinner later. You won't have to worry about Sam. Come home."
He picked the receiver up and hissed, "Thank you but no thank you, Parker. I know a trap when I hear one."
She shook her head. "No trap, Jarod. I swear to you. I swear..." Her eyes touched Sydney's. "I swear to you on my mother's grave that you'll be safe. A one day truce, just for Christmas." She gave a crooked and ironic grin. "Do you honestly think that I'm going to try to haul your ass in and wave a gun in the face of my little brother?"
Jarod stared out her kitchen window. "I..." It was almost too much. Here was the invitation that he'd been wanting, an invitation to find a place at a table at which he'd always wanted to sit. And today, of all times, he didn't know if he had the will to resist.
"I'm going to go talk to Sam now - let him know that this is a one-time pass. I promise you, you'll be safe if you come home. Here's Sydney." Miss Parker handed the older man the receiver. "Talk to him," she directed.
"Do you mean it, Parker?" Sydney asked quickly, his hand over the mouthpiece.
"Just for one day, Syd," she told him firmly. "Everybody deserves to be able to come home for at least one day once in a while." She patted his shoulder. "Even Jarod."
"Jarod?" Sydney put the receiver to his ear. "The offer's genuine. Come home."
Jarod pulled the receiver away from his ear and disconnected the call. He needed to get the hell out of Miss Parker's house and away somewhere where he could sit watch for a while and think.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The smell of roasting ham and assorted other succulent dishes in various stages of preparation had permeated the entire house, and everyone was beginning to hear the sounds of stomachs growling in anticipation of the feast. Debbie had Sam pinned behind a checkerboard at the expanded dining table, but was discovering that she wasn't going to have such an easy time winning games from him this time. Broots was on his hands and knees in the living room, playing with the little Parker boy with his cars. Sydney and Miss Parker were in the kitchen, putting on the final touches to the meal preparations.
"He's not coming," she repeated again. "We scared him away."
"He'd have to ignore every last warning alarm that has kept him outside the Centre's reach, Parker," Sydney reasoned with her. "Sam's being here would tend to be one of the greater alarm bells to be ringing."
"I know." She sounded disappointed. "I was just hoping that once - just once - he'd trust me a little."
Her disappointment was a little surprising, considering her normal behavior toward the Centre escapee. "It isn't you that he doesn't trust, you know," he reminded her gently.
"Still..." She sighed. "This is such a special Christmas, Syd - I guess I just hate to think that he's out there without anybody."
"I know." Sydney stared out the kitchen window at the snow-covered backyard and wished that there were some way that he could reassure his justifiably paranoid protégé that he would indeed have refuge here for this one day.
Across the street, leaning against a leafless elm tree as he had been for the past hour or so, Jarod watched the Washington Avenue house wistfully. He'd seen the Broots drive up - and then dropped his jaw when Parker had answered the door and actually accepted a hug from both Broots AND his daughter before ushering them inside. The glow at the picture window was warm and inviting - and, if what Parker and Sydney had said were true, it was his for the asking. All he had to do was to trust...
Who was he fooling? Walk into a house with his huntress, her two cohorts and a Centre sweeper and expect to walk back out again under his own power?
But she had promised on her mother's grave. That was the kind of oath that she wouldn't issue lightly. Did he dare...
The warmth of the window called to him, and the fact was that he was cold - chilled to the bone and heart. It had been too long since he'd been with those in whose company he could relax, just for a little while. He'd broken out of the Centre before - if she broke her word and hauled him back in, he could do it again. But if there was just the smallest chance that Parker had been telling the truth, he had to try.
He just couldn't stay out in the cold anymore.
Amazingly, it took every ounce of strength that he possessed to walk sedately up Sydney's walk to the front door, and then another deep and bracing breath to raise his hand to the doorbell. He hesitated and the hand dropped a bit; but then he rallied, lifted his hand and pressed the button.
"I'll get it," Sydney bellowed with a look of almost desperate hope at Miss Parker, then sped past the dining table and the living room arch to get to the door and throw it open before anybody else could respond. The smile that lit his face faltered a little. The Jarod that stood on his doorstep had a vulnerable and wistful expression of a lost little boy and the look of a thoroughly chilled and half-frozen man.
"I'm glad you finally made it," Sydney told the Pretender gently and with a hand at an arm, pulled him into the warmth. He held Jarod at arm's length for a brief moment - just long enough to tell him, "Merry Christmas, my boy," - and then wrapped his arms around the tall man. "Welcome home, Jarod," he whispered as he felt Jarod begin to shake slightly. "Welcome home."
"Refuge, Sydney." The words were soft.
"I'm glad you're here, Jarod," Miss Parker told him from behind Sydney, making him raise his head from his mentor's shoulder. "I meant what I said."
Jarod straightened nervously away from Sydney as Sam walked up to him from the dining room, and he then blinked in surprise when the sweeper extended a hand to him. "Miss Parker's already told me that if I breathe a word of what is going on here, I'm a dead man," the sweeper stated calmly as he gave the Pretender's hand a firm shake. "I figure that now I won't be the only one in the Renewal Wing if word gets out - but I'd still like to avoid that if I can. So her promise is mine. You're safe for today."
"Refuge, Jarod," Sydney pronounced gently. "Merry Christmas. Now let's get you warmed up - you're nearly frozen. You should know better than to Pretend to be an icicle."
As Sydney drew Jarod deeper into the house, the Pretender finally began to believe that the unbelievable had happened. Sam had returned to his checker game with Debbie, who gave the newcomer a small wave and a smile. Broots claimed a warm handshake and an unexpected hug and then resumed his job of entertaining the small tike in the living room in front of the warm and glowing fireplace. Miss Parker was pulling on his heavy, wet, leather jacket to remove it and then handing him a terry towel to dry his hair. Soon he had a steaming mug of tea sitting in front of him as he sat at the kitchen table and watched while Sydney and Miss Parker resumed their chores of getting the dinner ready. Their conversation washed over him and around him and beckoned invitingly for him to join in.
The Pretender took a deep breath and then he knew. Yes, this WAS home - and he was home for Christmas. The heartsickness with which he'd been living for months ebbed as the warmth of the house and his reception chased away the chill of loneliness at last. For the day, at least, he'd found his family.
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com
by MMB
[Author's note: for Laura and Maestra. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to you both. - MMB]
Jarod sighed and closed the motel room door behind him and slid the dead bolt into place. Another night, another rented room, and no sign of his family. He was cold and he was tired and he was heartsick. Here it was, Christmas Eve, and the closest he'd managed to come to spending the Holidays with someone he cared about was to make a quick call to Philadelphia and talk to Emily. She hadn't heard from their father either - nor from Ethan, nor from the boy who, she told him, now called himself Josh. And no, there was still no sign of their mother either.
Since Carthis, he'd been particularly loath to do much more Pretending. Miss Parker had told him the search for him had moved into a new and more dangerous phase, and he wasn't in the mood to take many more chances. The game between them was finally beginning to wear thin, and he had no intent to jeopardize his freedom just to keep things at status quo with the Centre. Unfortunately, that meant as a consequence that his contact with others at this time of year was also sparse. Christmas was a time for families - and this year he was facing the fact that his family was still scattered to the four winds out of sheer necessity. He slumped onto the bed and hooked up his laptop to the phone line in hopes of at least an email from his father, then had to fight the temptation to just slam the lid of the delicate computer closed in frustration when there wasn't a single piece of new mail in his inbox - not even a single piece of spam advertising.
He knew there were several places he could go and find people who'd be willing to share their holiday spirit with him, but it just wasn't the same. Just once - just ONCE - he'd give anything to be with those he loved and knew well. That thought gave him an idea, and he fought against even that for a while. Certainly she was fast asleep now - he glanced at his wristwatch and noted the very late hour - and waking her in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve could be considered the height of rudeness. Then again, she considered him crass and rude anyway, so there was no expectation to demolish. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the first programmed number. He blinked in surprise when the phone on the other end rang four times before it was picked up.
"Guess what? I'm not here, and you're talking to a stupid machine. So you can either wait until I get home to call back, or you can leave a name and number so I can call you back. Your choice." BEEP.
Jarod stared at the cell phone and disconnected the call immediately. She wasn't there? Where in hell WAS she?
This wasn't like her - Christmas had been a lonely time for her for as long as he could remember, certainly in the years since he'd escaped the Centre. Her father - or, at least, the man who claimed to be her father for so long - usually had something else more important than spending time with his love-starved daughter. Those Christmas Eve calls had become almost a lifeline - one of the few times he could almost reconnect with the girl who had been his best friend years before - but not this year. This year, when the father who never showed her the affection she craved was just over a year dead, she had evidently found someplace else to be. He could only hope that it was a happier place.
He tipped his hand again and stared at the digital display. Sydney retired early, he knew - rousting his former mentor out of a sound sleep just to demand where Miss Parker had gone to would probably do very little to lighten his mood. Despite his calm and genteel exterior, Jarod knew all too well that his mentor had a temper - and had long since learned to avoid instances that could trigger it. Besides, with any luck, Sydney was in Albany with Michelle and Nicholas.
It wasn't fair. He didn't even have Zoë to call anymore - her remission had ended and she had died that past summer. He'd attended the funeral, and her Granny - having finally been informed of the real nature of his relationship with her granddaughter - had offered to let him rent a room from her if he wanted to stay. At the time the very thought had been too painful, and he'd declined; now he knew that it wouldn't have worked anyway, because he still would have been a perpetual outsider there.
As for Nia - he had lost track of her years ago, after she had married another young ranger and had a child. She didn't need an old beau showing up unannounced, looking as haunted now as he had during the brief time she'd known him years ago. There was always Harriet, but he was fairly sure that the Centre still kept at least one man watching her place, just in case he would try to show up there again, and he wasn't about to put his parents' old friend in any more danger than she'd been in on his behalf already.
No, the more he thought about it, the more he knew that the only place he would feel that he actually belonged was Delaware - even if he had to hang around outside the homes of others in the cold and the snow. Would Sydney mind very much if he broke into the comfortable Washington Avenue home and soaked up just being surrounded by his former mentor's presence for a little while?
It really didn't matter anymore. Jarod threw his few belongings back into his black canvas duffel bag and packed up his computer. There would be no resting for him here - and it was several hours' drive to Blue Cove. He stopped at the next open 24hr gas station he could find and not only filled his gas tank, but stocked up on caffeinated beverages. He had no intention of falling asleep behind the wheel tonight.
He was on his way home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The roads were nearly empty, which was just as well due to the weather. Jarod popped the top on another Jolt cola and downed half of it in a single draught. It was snowing heavily - and he could feel the occasional patches of black ice disconnect his wheels from solid ground every once in a while. It was taking every last ounce of his concentration and driving skills to keep himself safely on the road and moving toward Delaware and then, once he'd driven through Dover, toward Blue Cove.
Oddly, once he'd settled on a plan of action, his mood had lifted considerably. He wasn't exactly sure why, and he had enough on his mind to keep himself moving along the dangerous highway safely that he couldn't think about it too much right now, but there was an insight that he knew was beckoning him within the realization that 'home', to him, was a small seaside village in Delaware where the people he'd been eluding for the past six years lived.
He aimed his car down the two-lane road that connected Blue Cove with the rest of the world, shuddering just a little as he drove past the looming Centre Tower without slowing down. The lights were on in the Tower - and he didn't even want to hazard a guess as to what might be going on within those imposing walls. He may well have grown up there, but that wasn't home. Once he was past the property line and fairly certain that no black sedans had pulled onto the lane behind him, he let his mind rest on that thought - and just what it was that he was returning to. It wasn't the place, obviously. It was the people - Parker, Sydney - the only two people he truly cared about other than a nebulous family that never seemed able to find itself. It was to them that he was returning, albeit only peripherally.
Blue Cove was upon him almost before he knew it, and he made the turn onto Jefferson Street, which was the connector lane to Sydney's Washington Avenue home. And then he hit the brakes and stared at the house and the cars parked there - Parker's Boxster was nestled up to the garage door in the driveway and, wouldn't you know it, a black Centre-issue sedan was parked at the curb. Something was going on - something VERY strange indeed.
Jarod pulled to the opposite curb and climbed from behind the wheel of his car, closing the door as quietly as he could, and walked across the street. There was a side window to the garage that he could peek into that would hopefully shed some light on the situation within - and Jarod did a double-take when he saw Sydney's Lincoln parked within, as it normally would be if the older man were actually home. But he wouldn't be, would he? And what was Parker doing here at THIS hour of the night - why not in her own bed? And the house was dark, as if everyone inside were sleeping...
The Pretender stood for a moment of absolute dumbfounded indecision, and then turned to go back to his car. If Parker were with Sydney, that would mean that HER house would be empty. He was cold, he was tired, and he knew that his body now desperately needed at least a few hours' sleep. He slipped back behind the wheel and started up the engine without any more noise than necessary and drove off to the end of Washington Avenue and onto Madison Street to regain the seaside lane.
He'd been in her house often enough over the years he'd been free that getting past her alarm system was more a question of just unlocking the house. Once inside, he moved to the living room and stared.
She'd actually taken the time to put up a tree this year. Out of tired curiosity, he found the plug and turned on the lights and stepped back to admire her handiwork at decoration. The tree sparkled gaily with hundreds of the tiny colored lights. He unplugged the tree again and moved up the stairs toward her bedroom. Normally he had to move very carefully so as not to awaken her - breaking into her house while she was sleeping had been his routine for a very long time - so he found himself even now avoiding the two places on her stairs that tended to creak beneath his footfall. He slipped into the bedroom and stared at the neatly made bed that had no occupant in it that night.
Were it not for the fact that he was fairly certain that she was safe in Sydney's home, this sight would have worried him greatly. As it was, all he could feel was intense loneliness. She wasn't HERE. His best friend had found somewhere else to be. He should be happy for her - and he swallowed hard at the sudden surge of jealousy that seemed to well up from the very bottom of his soul. Why could she feel comfortable spending Christmas with Sydney when the older man had never once invited HIM to fill the empty time that had resulted with Jacob's death? How dare she find in Sydney the father she'd never had when the psychiatrist had resolutely refused to be in any way parental towards HIM!
Jarod sat down heavily on the edge of her bed and tipped into the pillows, drawing in a long breath that was filled with the faint scent of her perfume. Even empty, this bed smelled of home - of her. He closed his eyes, unable to stay awake a moment longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Miss Parker roused as the little boy who had nestled so gently in her arms through the night began to squirm. A gentle little hand brushed at her cheek as it lay on the pillow. "Melly?" he asked softly, carefully. "Melly? You 'wake?"
Slowly she opened her eyes to find herself staring into a set of grey orbs that looked exactly like her own, and then blinked the remains of her dream into the fog of sleep. "Good morning, little man," she mumbled with a soft smile and cuddled his closer.
"Melly!" The little boy squirmed just a little harder in her embrace. "Do you fink dat story Sydney tol' last night was true?"
Last night? Oh yeah - last night. Miss Parker's smile grew just a little, remembering the sight and sound of Sydney sitting in an easy chair near his blazing fireplace reading "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" with a rapt little boy nestled against his chest, held close. It had made her wish that she'd grabbed her camera to capture the moment. Debbie Broots had been at Sydney's feet leaning against his knee, with her and Broots sitting side by side on the couch as the accented voice had risen and fallen and given life to the old rhyme. The reading had even given her the first hint that this would be a real Christmas for her, and not just another holiday to try to forget - the first in a very long time. And this was her little brother's first REAL Christmas. "I don't know," she finally answered him. "What should we do?"
"We could go down an' see if der's stockings hanging f'um da mangle..." the little boy suggested with bright eyes.
"Mantle," she corrected gently and kissed his forehead.
"What a mangle, Melly?" the tot wanted to know next.
"A mantle is the shelf over the fireplace - you know, where Sydney had all those pictures of people he knows." She'd been astonished and more than a little complimented to find her own likeness staring out from among the collection; and Sydney had deliberately avoided her gaze when she would have asked him about it, so the question of why she'd been included had gone unasked.
"When we gonna go down an' see?"
She chuckled. "Don't you think we should wait until Sydney's up?" she reasoned with the boy.
"Me go get Sydney up," the child offered immediately, squirming hard enough this time to slip from her grasp and slide off the edge of the mattress onto bare feet.
"Wait," Miss Parker called, but already it was too late - the tot had left the bedroom door open and was padding across the hallway to the other bedroom door.
"Sydney?" he inquired, remembering to knock first before barging in. He pushed the door open and walked right up to the edge of the bed to stare into the older man's oddly grizzled face before reaching out and jiggling a shoulder. "Sydney? You 'wake?"
Slowly the chestnut eyes came open and then blinked at the odd sight of a small child peering at him in excitement while a moderately disheveled Miss Parker calmly tied her bathrobe shut in his doorway. "Sorry, Syd, he got away from me," she told the sleepy man with a chagrined look on her face.
Finally Sydney's brain clicked into full gear, and he took the little boy's hand in his. "What's all this about?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye that had Miss Parker chuckling.
"Saint Nicholas," the boy explained patiently, amazed that neither adult seemed all that enthusiastic. "Him comed, you fink?"
"I'm not sure," Sydney said, propping himself up on an elbow. "Miss Parker, did you hear anything?"
She shook her head. "I didn't hear a single reindeer hoof, honest."
"Me check! Me check!" The little boy was literally bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Sydney looked down and saw the bare feet. "It's cold downstairs, little one. Your feet are going to be frozen."
"I tell you what," Miss Parker stated finally. "You come back into our room and put on a robe and slippers, and maybe we can go down and see if the stories are true." That seemed to satisfy, and the child trotted happily away from Sydney, past his sister and back toward the guest room. "I think it's time to get up, Syd," Miss Parker told her old friend with a chagrined smile. "I don't think we can hold him up here much longer."
"Take your time getting him bundled - give me a chance to at least wake up Sam before all hell breaks loose." Sydney threw back the covers and reached for his flannel robe that was thrown across the foot of the bed.
"I'll do what I can - but I suggest you get a move on," was all she could promise before turning to head back to the guest room and a now VERY excited child.
Chuckling all the way, Sydney walked down the stairs and into the living room to lean over the back of the couch and give the sweeper's shoulder a shove. "Sam, Sam! You'd better wake up - the troops are about to come thundering down the stairs..."
Sam blinked into awareness faster than Sydney had imagined possible, but sat up and yawned to give lie to the appearance. "Thanks for the warning, doc," was about all the bodyguard was able to say before...
"HE COMED!"
There was a blur of red flannel as the little boy sped to the mantle and the over-stuffed stocking that was hung to the side. A delighted face turned to the adults behind him. "Is dis for ME?"
"Absolutely, kiddo," Sam said with an utterly straight face while sleepily scratching at the whiskers on his jaw. "Saint Nick told me to make sure that you opened that stocking there first thing..."
"You seed him?" The boy's grey eyes were wide and awed. "Him talked to you?"
"He kinda couldn't help it - he woke me up comin' down the chimney like that..." Sam glanced at his boss and saw that she was having a very difficult time keeping from laughing out loud as she found her place in the easy chair Sydney had occupied the night before.
"Well, go on," Sydney urged, finally finding the tie to his bathrobe, "let's see what Saint Nick brought you." He stepped over to the mantle and waited until the little boy had a good hold on the stocking before pulling out the pin that held it up.
"Oh, LOOK, Melly..." the tike gasped as he carried the stocking over to his sister and proceeded to empty it into her lap.
Miss Parker put her hand on her little brother's head as he sorted through the toys and candies that nearly overflowed her lap and then looked up into the faces of the two men who stood quietly watching her. "Thank you," she mouthed at them both.
Sydney nodded briskly and then turned to Sam. "I'll go make some coffee - you're welcome to freshen up in the bathroom upstairs."
Sam thanked him and, after taking the time to fold up the sheet and blanket that had turned a couch into a remarkably comfortable spot to sleep, took the hint and made his way upstairs. Sydney stood and watched as a young woman who was usually too busy to bother with anybody she viewed as lesser than herself ooohed and ahhed over plastic cars and candy canes as if they were treasure, and then shuffled in his slippers toward the back of the house and the coffee pot. Already the day had started out well - and there was no telling what other moments of quiet joy were yet to come.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jarod rolled over and grunted as the sunbeam finally penetrated both eyelid and sleep. As he didn't normally actually fall as deeply asleep as he had then, he rolled up very quickly to assess his surroundings, only gradually relaxing when he realized where he was and why he had run the risk of actually coming there. Almost guiltily, he rose quickly and straightened the covers so that there was no sign that he'd even touched the bed, and then made his way back down the stairs again.
There was the bottom part of a carton of milk in her fridge, and this he used with an oddly nutritious and good tasting granola cereal he found in her cupboards as breakfast. Sitting at the table, he'd done a double take when he'd found her cell phone on its charger on the table, waiting for its owner to return. This was DEFINITELY out of character for her - no cell phone and not at home meant that the Centre couldn't get in contact with her. What was she trying to avoid - and how was Sydney involved?
He washed and put away the dishes he'd used - the only sign that he'd been there being the now-empty milk carton that was rinsed and in her trash compactor. But he had been alone about as long as he could stand. He drew his own cell phone out of his pocket again and punched in the fourth programmed number - Sydney's home phone - and waited.
"This is Sydney," came the calm, accented voice of his mentor.
"Merry Christmas, Sydney," Jarod intoned as he knew his old teacher would be expecting.
"And a Merry Christmas to you, Jarod." The old man's voice sounded light, soft, even happy - and there was the sound of a child's excited voice in the background that was completely unexpected. "I trust you're having a good day?"
"I'm a little surprised," the Pretender admitted sourly. "Since when does Miss Parker spend Christmas with you - and why aren't you in Albany with Michelle and Nicholas?"
Sydney was quiet for a short moment, puzzled at the odd tone in his protégé's voice. "Jarod? Are you all right?"
"I thought Christmas was for families, Sydney."
"It is," the psychiatrist nodded. "Very much so."
"Then why aren't you with yours?"
"Because," Sydney sighed, "Michelle and Nicholas promised to spend the Holidays with the Stamatis family this year."
That took Jarod aback a bit. "Oh." Then he frowned. "And Miss Parker?"
"Miss Parker?" Sydney's eyes brushed those of his coworker's as she poured herself a cup of coffee and then reached for the phone. "I'll let her explain things to you."
"Sydney, wait..."
"What do you want, Jarod?" she demanded with her best Ice Queen tone of voice.
Jarod stood there with his mouth open, not knowing quite how to demand to know what she thought she was doing at Sydney's. The both of them had been so alone for so long, so hurt - especially on this day - how could he possibly begrudge her this. "Forget it," he said in a defeated tone. "I didn't mean to disrupt your celebration."
Parker blinked. This wasn't the taunting voice of a man who continually danced just beyond her reach. "Jarod," she tried again, this time in a much more conversational tone - the quick shift catching Sydney's attention immediately. "What is it? Where are you?"
"Just trying to get home and not finding it," Jarod answered cryptically. "One question?"
"What?"
"I hear a child's voice in the background."
She smiled. "That's my little brother. Sydney helped me... uh... liberate him yesterday when Raines tried to tell me he was too sick to spend the holiday weekend with me."
"And you're over there trying to avoid the Centre for as long as you can," Jarod nodded, understanding now. "Did he have a good Christmas?"
"He's probably going to have a stomach-ache from all the candy, but yes. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy." She looked at Sydney's expression of concern. "What about your Christmas, Jarod? Are you with your family?"
"No," Jarod replied darkly, and then sighed. "I'm glad you're having a good time, Miss Parker. But I saw a Centre sedan too..."
Miss Parker nodded knowingly. He must be somewhere very close by. "Sam's here - just in case Raines or Lyle finds us and thinks they can haul my little brother back to the Centre before I'm ready to bring him back." She hesitated, and then said a little softer, "I'm sorry you aren't with your family this year. This isn't a time to be by yourself."
"Well, I really don't have much choice in the matter, now do I, Miss Parker?" he retorted with all the frustration he felt ringing clear. "I might even have tried to..." No, he didn't want to tell her what he'd been thinking - she might be able to figure out what he'd decided as an alternative course of action. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing," he said as the anger evaporated, leaving him just empty and alone again. "Enjoy your time, and tell Sydney I'm glad things are going so well there."
"Jarod..." Miss Parker pulled the receiver from her ear and stared at it when he disconnected abruptly. She looked over at Sydney. "Something's wrong. I've never heard him sound like that before."
"Like what?" Sydney was attentive - if it caught Miss Parker's attention, then it must have been important.
"He sounds lost. He said he had been trying to go home, but he couldn't find it - or something like that." She gazed at him. "He's close by - he knew Sam was here."
"Tried to go home..." Sydney's eyes narrowed as he searched his mind for what Jarod could have been talking about, then opened them wide as the realization hit. "You don't suppose he tried to come here - expecting me to be gone..."
Miss Parker's eyes narrowed as well. "Which means he stayed close... oh hell." She looked at him with a combination of disgust and frustration. "How much do you want to bet that he's at my place?"
Sydney nodded slowly. "It makes sense." Then he watched his nominal superior carefully. "What do you intend to do?"
She looked at the receiver in her hand and then dialed.
Jarod started as the telephone began to ring, and then sat very still to see if it was as he feared. The answering machine on the counter picked up the line after the fourth ring and ran through its outbound spiel. Immediately after the BEEP, Miss Parker's voice filled the room. "Pick up - I know you're there."
He stood as if preparing to flee. She knew he was here in her house - no doubt Sam would be crashing through her front door any moment...
"Listen to me," she was saying when she didn't get the response she wanted, "we're both a little on the run today. I don't want to bring Centre attention to me anymore than you want it brought to you. And I think I know how you're feeling right now..."
Sydney was watching her with his chestnut eyes wide. What in the world was she doing?
"Come home, Jarod," she said, putting away any residue of the Miss Parker Rules The Centre voice that could chill a man where he stood. "It's Christmas, for God's sake. I can honor a truce for the day. Broots and Debbie are going to be here in a little while, and we're going to have a big dinner later. You won't have to worry about Sam. Come home."
He picked the receiver up and hissed, "Thank you but no thank you, Parker. I know a trap when I hear one."
She shook her head. "No trap, Jarod. I swear to you. I swear..." Her eyes touched Sydney's. "I swear to you on my mother's grave that you'll be safe. A one day truce, just for Christmas." She gave a crooked and ironic grin. "Do you honestly think that I'm going to try to haul your ass in and wave a gun in the face of my little brother?"
Jarod stared out her kitchen window. "I..." It was almost too much. Here was the invitation that he'd been wanting, an invitation to find a place at a table at which he'd always wanted to sit. And today, of all times, he didn't know if he had the will to resist.
"I'm going to go talk to Sam now - let him know that this is a one-time pass. I promise you, you'll be safe if you come home. Here's Sydney." Miss Parker handed the older man the receiver. "Talk to him," she directed.
"Do you mean it, Parker?" Sydney asked quickly, his hand over the mouthpiece.
"Just for one day, Syd," she told him firmly. "Everybody deserves to be able to come home for at least one day once in a while." She patted his shoulder. "Even Jarod."
"Jarod?" Sydney put the receiver to his ear. "The offer's genuine. Come home."
Jarod pulled the receiver away from his ear and disconnected the call. He needed to get the hell out of Miss Parker's house and away somewhere where he could sit watch for a while and think.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The smell of roasting ham and assorted other succulent dishes in various stages of preparation had permeated the entire house, and everyone was beginning to hear the sounds of stomachs growling in anticipation of the feast. Debbie had Sam pinned behind a checkerboard at the expanded dining table, but was discovering that she wasn't going to have such an easy time winning games from him this time. Broots was on his hands and knees in the living room, playing with the little Parker boy with his cars. Sydney and Miss Parker were in the kitchen, putting on the final touches to the meal preparations.
"He's not coming," she repeated again. "We scared him away."
"He'd have to ignore every last warning alarm that has kept him outside the Centre's reach, Parker," Sydney reasoned with her. "Sam's being here would tend to be one of the greater alarm bells to be ringing."
"I know." She sounded disappointed. "I was just hoping that once - just once - he'd trust me a little."
Her disappointment was a little surprising, considering her normal behavior toward the Centre escapee. "It isn't you that he doesn't trust, you know," he reminded her gently.
"Still..." She sighed. "This is such a special Christmas, Syd - I guess I just hate to think that he's out there without anybody."
"I know." Sydney stared out the kitchen window at the snow-covered backyard and wished that there were some way that he could reassure his justifiably paranoid protégé that he would indeed have refuge here for this one day.
Across the street, leaning against a leafless elm tree as he had been for the past hour or so, Jarod watched the Washington Avenue house wistfully. He'd seen the Broots drive up - and then dropped his jaw when Parker had answered the door and actually accepted a hug from both Broots AND his daughter before ushering them inside. The glow at the picture window was warm and inviting - and, if what Parker and Sydney had said were true, it was his for the asking. All he had to do was to trust...
Who was he fooling? Walk into a house with his huntress, her two cohorts and a Centre sweeper and expect to walk back out again under his own power?
But she had promised on her mother's grave. That was the kind of oath that she wouldn't issue lightly. Did he dare...
The warmth of the window called to him, and the fact was that he was cold - chilled to the bone and heart. It had been too long since he'd been with those in whose company he could relax, just for a little while. He'd broken out of the Centre before - if she broke her word and hauled him back in, he could do it again. But if there was just the smallest chance that Parker had been telling the truth, he had to try.
He just couldn't stay out in the cold anymore.
Amazingly, it took every ounce of strength that he possessed to walk sedately up Sydney's walk to the front door, and then another deep and bracing breath to raise his hand to the doorbell. He hesitated and the hand dropped a bit; but then he rallied, lifted his hand and pressed the button.
"I'll get it," Sydney bellowed with a look of almost desperate hope at Miss Parker, then sped past the dining table and the living room arch to get to the door and throw it open before anybody else could respond. The smile that lit his face faltered a little. The Jarod that stood on his doorstep had a vulnerable and wistful expression of a lost little boy and the look of a thoroughly chilled and half-frozen man.
"I'm glad you finally made it," Sydney told the Pretender gently and with a hand at an arm, pulled him into the warmth. He held Jarod at arm's length for a brief moment - just long enough to tell him, "Merry Christmas, my boy," - and then wrapped his arms around the tall man. "Welcome home, Jarod," he whispered as he felt Jarod begin to shake slightly. "Welcome home."
"Refuge, Sydney." The words were soft.
"I'm glad you're here, Jarod," Miss Parker told him from behind Sydney, making him raise his head from his mentor's shoulder. "I meant what I said."
Jarod straightened nervously away from Sydney as Sam walked up to him from the dining room, and he then blinked in surprise when the sweeper extended a hand to him. "Miss Parker's already told me that if I breathe a word of what is going on here, I'm a dead man," the sweeper stated calmly as he gave the Pretender's hand a firm shake. "I figure that now I won't be the only one in the Renewal Wing if word gets out - but I'd still like to avoid that if I can. So her promise is mine. You're safe for today."
"Refuge, Jarod," Sydney pronounced gently. "Merry Christmas. Now let's get you warmed up - you're nearly frozen. You should know better than to Pretend to be an icicle."
As Sydney drew Jarod deeper into the house, the Pretender finally began to believe that the unbelievable had happened. Sam had returned to his checker game with Debbie, who gave the newcomer a small wave and a smile. Broots claimed a warm handshake and an unexpected hug and then resumed his job of entertaining the small tike in the living room in front of the warm and glowing fireplace. Miss Parker was pulling on his heavy, wet, leather jacket to remove it and then handing him a terry towel to dry his hair. Soon he had a steaming mug of tea sitting in front of him as he sat at the kitchen table and watched while Sydney and Miss Parker resumed their chores of getting the dinner ready. Their conversation washed over him and around him and beckoned invitingly for him to join in.
The Pretender took a deep breath and then he knew. Yes, this WAS home - and he was home for Christmas. The heartsickness with which he'd been living for months ebbed as the warmth of the house and his reception chased away the chill of loneliness at last. For the day, at least, he'd found his family.
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com