Disclaimer and such: check Prelude.

A/N: I know it's been forever, but your reviews made me so happy, I commented on them anyway. Lisa Brown, you're right. Michelle, Ethan's role will be sort out later on. Rem-Cycle, you got it perfectly right. Heck, you have the order down better than I do [lol]. ranma8962, fun…ah, well, angst can be fun…right? [insert stolen innocent look]. Ann, hope you're still with me. mariel, LOL, thanks! Ginger6, Re: bleeding parker. I know!Oh, and thanks for still being on this ride. =) KatieQ, glad you like it. imag1ne, [bows head]. Thank you. No, really, thanks. leochick, ah, no flashbacks in this one; plenty of reminiscing though. Hope you like. jenny, I really wish the update had come up sooner (read below). moonbutton, Out Of Character ;) . dmg1013, Thanks.

You all, I have to admit I was kind of nervous about the last chapter so you're reviews meant a lot…even more than usual.

Ah, warnings I have none, except to share with you that this is, in fact, the chapter that would not be written. Seriously, I now carry a grudge against this chapter. I advanced three pages on chapter twelve before I was able to properly work on this one. Therefore, if you feel like ranting about this story, this is the chapter to do so. I'm with you, in fact, I encourage you to do so.[Just ah, rant nicely because I can't eat marshmallows anymore, so you know, no flames. =) ]

Yeah, no more of my babbling. Here it is.

Chapter nine

Behold the joys of roadkill.

"We're the dead ones" – George Orwell's 1984.

As she drove dangerously fast on the highway, Parker tried to will away the ghostlike images that continued to haunt her. She wanted to pull over and throw up; she could actually feel the spasmodic contractions of her abdomen and the familiar burning of bile rising in her throat. But more than anything she wanted to kill Lyle. A slow painful dead like the one he undoubtedly bestowed upon his brides.

Hey sis, where are you running to? Her brother's voice echoed in her ears making her want to rip something up. Sick son of a … Dammit!

Of the thousand memories running amok through her congested mind, Parker was unable to tell which she the hated the most: The recent ones that reminded her of her screwed up twin; the old ones that reminded her of her screwed up decisions, or the ones in the middle that reminded her of Jarod and their screwed up lives. Still, in the midst of the confusion there was one thing that stood out as an absolute truth: the shackles had been the strangest part.

Suddenly, another thought of Lyle attacked her and she helplessly shook her head, not wanting to how he'd asked her to follow him. He'd done a good job enticing her but she should have known; the moment she'd noticed the smug expression he was sporting, she should have known what was coming. Unfortunately her curiosity had won over her common sense, she'd gone with him and now, the events that had followed her erroneous choice played in the windshield before her like a badly edited film: pieces of Jarod's "questioning" mingled with echoes of the time she'd spent in Seaford with the pretender, right before this whole mess had started. Two days, five days ago

She knew why the lascivious freak had gone looking for her, explained the procedure and asked her to sit beside him as the action took place right in front of them: he was still testing her and probably he also enjoyed watching her cringe. Almost a week ago, Parker had called her twin from her car as she was making her way towards the cabin. She'd wisely appealed to her brother's sense of self preservation when she'd threatened to show up at the Centre dragging a gagged pretender behind, and pointing an accusatory finger in his direction for his non-existent teamwork skills. Under that promise the twit had readily complied, not because he believed her, but because he knew there was a chance, if only a slight one, and Lyle was a 'take your chances' kind of guy.

Following that conversation, nine hours had slipped her by, as she sat alone in the small shack, drinking instant coffee and talking to Ethan on the scrambled cell phone Jarod had left in a package for her. It was still dark when the pretender had made his appearance, only to coax her out of her clothes and into the bedroom telling her the rest could wait till the morning. Well, the next day had been as uneventful as that promise, filled with strategy oriented discussions and financial movements of doubtful legitimacy. Apparently, running away from your ever-expanding, murderous family did not come cheap these days.

Parker had done most of the tucking away and moving around, with the funds Jarod had previously retrieved from several Centre accounts. It wasn't taxing work, but it was time consuming, and it had kept her occupied while the pretender had remained outside "exercising". Even now, she found it funny how he was able to do that just by sitting on the porch and staring at the garden to the side of the house…

More echoes resounded in her subconscious. This time, one of her trying to mock her twin with the fact that Jarod would never answer any kind of questions he asked. Unfortunately the mental case had only agreed with her, prompting her to call him a nut. To that, he'd very calmly replied that if she had brought back the pretender to his cell, it hadn't been with the intention of starting a Go tournament within the Centre. With this thought in her mind, Parker jerked the steering wheel causing the car to swerve abruptly on the darkened road. The twit was right: she wasn't exactly the victim in this ordeal. In fact, there were no victims. On their second afternoon together at the cabin, she'd watched the pretender swallow the drug out of his on volition, before positioning himself back in the bed. She'd lain next to him, knowing that the moment her companion was sound asleep she would have to call Lyle to insure the progression of their plan, so that's exactly what she'd done. Once that phone call was done, she'd gone back to arrange the scene; fixing imaginary details for the most part, since she and Jarod had taken extra care in preparing a stage that would go with their story: she'd baited him for months, he'd finally believed her, they'd met, she'd betrayed him. Simple… but bizarre to say the least, particularly the part when she had had to cuff and shackle the sleeping man. They'd agreed that she'd do it while he slept because it made more sense in the order of things, but the truth was that it would have been impossible for either of them to look at the other if she'd had to do it while he was wide awake. It would have been too nerve wrecking. Lying in bed, shrouded in the incomplete silence of the summer evening as she waited for her brother to show up had already been too nerve wrecking.

And all for what? So far, their scheme had only served to provide her brother and extended playground to test all his new toys. Oh, and get her a new job opportunity. What a wonderful, wonderful life...Shit.

Maybe she could just keep driving, forget about the Centre and the pretender project and those god-forsaken scrolls. The idea was seeping into her brain as her own house came into her view, but before she could contemplate the thought any longer, Parker spotted Sydney sitting in his car, waiting for her. She'd called the psychiatrist and covertly begged him to come see her, alleging that they needed to talk and that whatever happened to Jarod, he couldn't blame her for doing her job. She had actually put quite the performance in order to get the doctor's agreement. And yet, now that he was here, a completely insensitive part of her didn't want to talk to him anymore, past plans be dammed. The more sensible part however, told her that it was a good thing the doctor had actually showed up, and that if he'd beat her to their destination them he'd probably left the office early, before Lyle had any more chances to play with his mind.

Abandoning her car in front of her home, Parker went to unlock the front door and was still in that process when she felt her old colleague approaching her from behind. Turning to greet him, she was met with a sight that she could have lived without. He knew. He knew and she wanted to laugh. Because of course he knew! Her twin had probably wired the old man's computer to have him watch the events unfold in real time. Her poor friend didn't even look mad anymore: just devastated and utterly disgusted.

Aware that she had played a stellar part in the doctor's discontent, a suddenly exhausted parker returned her attention to her now opened front door, and without one word she stepped into the darkness of her living room not bothering to turn any of the lights on. Right now, she only wanted to reach the kitchen: She was in dire need of some strong coffee.

Sydney followed Parker into the house and, after searching and finding a light switch, closed the front door again putting the lock on. Then he started towards the kitchen where he found the woman he had, until very recently, considered a friend, standing by the sink and holding a pot under the running water. She seemed stiff and slightly frantic, and her posture intrigued the psychiatrist in spite of himself. When he'd received the first call early this morning, a hesitant hope had formed in the Belgian's heart that maybe, there was more than met the eye behind Parker's actions of the past week. Then he'd been faced with Lyle's treatment of Jarod and that hope had expired, so he'd come looking for Parker with the sole purpose of getting an explanation, a reason why. Now, he wasn't sure which of his past assumed stances was right. The woman before him looked incredibly upset and…frightened, which didn't fit with anything else he'd heard or witnessed since Jarod's return to custody. Not that he'd been paying attention, at least not to the huntress's plight.

Not knowing that she was being analyzed, Parker stood by the kitchen counter across the room, doing the best she could to ignore her guest as she set up the coffee maker. She didn't want to face Sydney just yet. She was tired beyond her breaking point and her stomach was twisted in a painful knot that still did not respond to food too kindly; she wanted to rest, she wanted to sleep, she wanted things to go back to the way they were before the chase had turned into a mockery. Above all, she wanted the accursed coffee machine to cooperate and start working, because something, one thing had to come out right for her today.

The machine refused to function altogether, worsening its owner's agitation. In a careless move to check the apparatus, she knocked over the pot that was meant to hold her finished coffee sending the crystal recipient crashing against the kitchen floors.

"Great, just great. Absolutely perfect! Stupid thing."

Parker squatted to single-handedly gather the pieces of shattered glass, a position made awkward by the length of her skirt and the height of her shoes. She obsessed over the mess she'd created until her right hand started to bleed. The instant she noticed the cut she felt like she'd been hit in the face with the proverbial last straw. Everything was falling apart. She was falling apart.

To Sydney it all felt like a dream sequence worthy of Dali. One minute there was Parker strutting into her house, not bothering to invite him in; the next she was crumbling beside a puddle of broken glass, one hand bleeding into her suit, the other one shielding her face form the world. It took the older man a long moment to catch up with the situation, shocked as he was by his colleague's emotional display, but as the use of his senses returned, he finally abandoned the spot he'd been rooted to and moved forward to where his colleague was slumping against the kitchen counter. Carefully, he lowered himself to her eye level balancing on his heels and reached out to grasp her upper arms in a tentative gesture of comfort. There was a certain precaution hidden in his motions, but it proved unnecessary, since Parker was too busy holding her face and shaking miserably to pretend she didn't need a friendly shoulder.

So the psychiatrist sat down beside his beat down colleague and held her wordlessly, until her body-wracking sobs subsided and were replaced by a quiet sniffling. Then he led her out of the kitchen and into her room; she looked small and weak, nothing like the larger than life image Parker usually projected. Given her state, she was probably not going to provide him with the answers he was searching, but this didn't deter the doctor in the slightest. He left her sitting in her bed and went off to clean the kitchen and find something without caffeine or alcohol to offer his former boss. As soon a she was suitably calm, Sydney was determined to get her talking. Something was stranger than usual at the Centre, and time had come for him to find out what it was.

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A/N2: Eva and George put up with my incesant ranting and for that, they deserve something better than this utterly inexpensive comment. Unfortunately, you I'm broke.