Disclaimer: Saying that I owned this would be like saying that this year's presidential candidates are intelligent human beings… In other words, I'd be lying.

Rating: I don't know anymore. My word usage seems to be changing with my school grades. But, as it stands, I'm going to say PG-13

Summary: The ill-fated trip is begun, and the travelers are in for the ride of their lives.

!!!AUTHOR"S NOTE!!! For what is to happen next in my story, I find it vital to return to the third-person perspective. I apologize to those of you who have been enjoying the first-person narrative, but I assure you that the coming episodes will not ALL be entirely third person. That being said, I thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy the chapter.

Feedback: The air I breathe and the water I drink.

Quote:

"…the fog is rising."

---Last Words of Emily Dickinson

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12:19 pm, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

The Parker Residence

Well it's about time, Miss Parker growled silently as she walked to the front door, annoyance on her face.

She took a quick look through the peephole—she wasn't stupid— and after seeing Jarod's familiar face she undid the locks.

He stepped into her home and stuffed his hands into his pockets, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "So… are you ready?"

"I have been for the past hour, Jarod. What took you so long?"

For a moment he looked indignant. "I went as fast as I could. I had to secure a favor, buy some supplies, pack up everything from the hotel and find out just where Lyle flew off to. India is a big place, Miss Parker, and I doubt that you want to waste any time trying to scour the country for our mutual friend Mr. Broots."

She scowled at him, but didn't say anything against it. She couldn't. He was right, goddamn him. He was always right.

"Fine, lab rat. You'll give me what little information you may have discovered on the way. And where, exactly, are your two little lapdogs?"

"Astrea and Arthur are in the car outside, waiting for you," he told her patiently. Then, unable to resist throwing her own impatience back at her, he tapped his watch. "Don't you think we should get going?"

With an expected but still amusing glare, she shoved into his arms a medium sized—but very heavy—suitcase. "Just give me a moment to say goodbye to Freud and the kid. I'll go out and meet you in that rusted piece of junk cluttering up my driveway."

Jarod watched her go up the stairs (feeling ashamed that he couldn't seem to draw his eyes away from her cute little butt) and then went out the door and to the car. Astrea was in the back seat, her arms folded across her chest, and though Arthur was also in the back, he was a seat away from the brooding feral pretender. For the past two hours she'd been quiet, offering no words to explain her mood, but not really having to. Her body posture and the brief flashes of her canines were enough to clue Jarod in that she was still pissed.

And at this point, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was dangerous or not… he wasn't going to take any chances.

He settled himself in the driver's seat after packing the suitcase in the trunk with their other baggage, leaning back in his seat and momentarily closing his eyes. There was a long road and eventual flight ahead of them, and who knew what was going to happen after that. He still hadn't figured out why Lyle had taken Broots in the first place, though it was obviously a computer related reason. But why go to all that trouble? The shortest route between two points is a straight line—why curve out and make a pit stop? What was so important that Lyle had risked exposure? Debbie could have very well called the authorities on her father's kidnapping, and Jarod knew that though the Centre could probably fend them off, the police had received more than one call or complaint about them, and were bound to be suspicious.

He watched as Miss Parker stepped outside and started moving (though with reluctance) towards the car. Jarod came out and around to open the door for her, but Parker was obviously not in the mood for chivalry. She ignored Jarod and swung open the passenger seat door, sat down, and then slammed it shut. Sighing, Jarod shook his head and went back to the driver's side.

He backed out of the driveway and started down the road, and glanced over at Miss Parker. Her lips were tightly drawn, her eyes purposefully gazed out the windshield, and, as a finishing touch, her arms were folded across her chest. In short, her body language all but shouted that she wasn't in the mood for talking.

Well, thought Jarod, that's just too bad.

"So how is it that Debbie knows what I am?"

Silence.

"I suppose," Jarod continued, as though he hadn't been waiting for an answer, "that she used her father's computer and just read some of the documents he'd saved on there. Still, Broots would have had some defenses on his computer. Where did she learn to get past his humble home security set-up? But, then again, she is a bright girl. I know that Broots must be very proud of her. I wonder if-"

"What do you want from me?!" Miss Parker screamed, spinning towards him as much as her seatbelt would allow. "Do you want me to talk to you, is that it? Do you want me to pretend (now there's an interesting word!) that the years I've spent chasing you were just a bad dream, and that you and I are still just the buddies we were when we were younger? That we can still have a nice, pleasant little conversation? Well, guess what, Jarod? It's not going to happen!" She lowered her voice to an icy tone. "And you're just going to have to understand that."

She turned away from him again, more stony than before, and Jarod just gaped at her in stunned hurt before focusing back on the road.

Not another word was spoken the rest of the ride.

12:36 pm, Sunday

Blue Cove, Delaware

Air Field Landing/Take-off Strip

"This is the piece of junk we're supposed to go to India in?"

Jarod nodded. "Yep. A while back I helped the pilot with some legal issues and he told me to just call him if I ever needed him to return the favor."
Miss Parker crossed her arms as she eyed the old, beat-up private plane. "Are you sure that this can even get off the ground?"

"Well o' course it can, ma'm," came the voice of a man jumping out from the small plane. He stopped and grinned. "I'm a poet and I did'n even know it."

"Oh my god," Parker said in a dry voice, her eyes undoubtedly narrowed behind her dark sunglasses. "I've died and gone to hick-ville."

The man raised his bushy light brown eyebrows and glanced at Jarod. "Well that one's certainly full o' cheer."

Jarod gave an embarrassed grin. "She's just a little irritated, Don. The plane that our guys were supposed to send never came, and calling you up was really last minute."

Don looked as though he didn't think that being frustrated was an excuse to be rude, but he nodded in understanding despite it.

Jarod suddenly opened his arms. "It's great to see you again, you know."

Don joined him in a short but caring hug. "Great to see you again, too, old friend."

Miss Parker simply rolled her eyes. What is this, a Disney movie?

After hugging his buddy, Don stepped back. "So, what is it that you do again, Jarod? Last time I saw ya, you were a financial inspector."

"I still am, actually. I just changed agencies." Jarod grin grew boyish. "I now work for a corporation called the Cen—"

"The Censured," Miss Parker cut in, kicking Jarod in the ankle discreetly. "I'm his new partner. We're going to India for an inspection in one of our foreign based branches."

Jarod raised his eyebrows appreciatively in spite of his now throbbing ankle. Had she been trained, Miss Parker would have made an exquisite pretender.

Don laughed heartily. "Well that just sounds like a barrel o' fun. So you're both coming on a business trip, eh? And the two by the car? What are they coming for?"

Two? Jarod thought in surprise. But I thought that it was only Astrea… Of course! Arthur! How could I have forgotten?!

He'd been concentrating so much on what was to come and how his relationship (or lack thereof) with Miss Parker was progressing, that he'd totally forgotten the Englishman.

"Will you excuse me for just a moment?" he asked Don with a fake smile. "You've just reminded me of something I left in the car."

He turned around and walked away swiftly, but as he passed Miss Parker he whispered in her ear, "Cover for me."

Without waiting for a reply and hoping that she'd not simply "blow him off", he walked briskly over to the car. Astrea was leaning against the side, her arms crossed and a look of meditation on her face. As Jarod came closer she briefly opened one eye, gave a low, gutteral growl, and then ignored him again. Jarod let out a breath he didn't know he'd bee holding, and then opened the door to the backseat and sat down.

Arthur looked over at him, and a small, forced smile that could not mask his anxiety passed over the Englishman's face. "Erm… hello, Jarod. Did you want to ask me something?"

"You know very well what this is about, Arthur. You can't come with us to India."

All pretenses blown out of the water, Arthur exploded (in that quiet way that only the cultured English seem able to manage) with righteous fury.

"And why the bloody hell not? I'm as much a part of this as you yourself are, Jarod, and I don't see you being told to stay behind!"

"But you're not a part of this," Jarod countered, "and you still have no idea how much danger you'd be in if you were."

"Pardon me, sir, but I really do think—"

"And that's part of the problem! You think you know what's going on, hell, for all I know there could be a novel out there that has a situation similar to this one, but that's the problem. This is real life. You don't know how real and risky this is because you can't know. You haven't seen the things I've seen and you're not prepared to."

"But I've already packed my bags…"

"What does that have to do with—?"

Tap-tap

Both men turned, and saw Miss Parker outside the car, glaring at them irritably. Jarod set his jaw, his blood still boiling, but opened the door and climbed out anyways.

"So," he said, slamming the door shut and letting out a sigh that he hoped would help calm him down, "what's the cover for Astrea and Arthur?" His lips pursed a little at the last name, but he was already becoming tranquil again.

"I told your buddy that 'Astrea' is your daughter for whom you had no babysitter, and the English guy is in training." Miss Parker saw at his reaction and threw her hands up in the air. "What?! What's wrong, now?"

"Nothing," Jarod muttered. Great. There went the idea of leaving Arthur behind. But he couldn't get angry with her. After all, he hadn't exactly specified what he'd wanted for a cover story, now had he? This was simply going to have to be dealt with later.

There was a chuckle from his left and he glanced over to see Astrea wearing a smirk that seemed to say: I know what's got you riled, Jarod. You don't have a very tight hold on this quest of yours, do you?

After some effort, however, he managed a look that responded: What are talking about? I have everything under control.

They both, of course, knew better.

(Time Zone Applying)

11:04 am, Sunday

Kashmir, India

Nature Reserve

Centre Base

Broots stepped out of the jet with more than a little trepidation, his heart hammering in his chest. Some part of him was, of course, happy to breathe fresh air again, but the other part (most of him, actually) would have been more than happy to climb back inside that plane and twiddle his thumbs accommodatingly.

Cox steps out behind him, with Lia at his side. To any casual observer it might look like the arm that he had around her shoulders was a loving, almost fatherly gesture, but even Broots could see that it was just another form of handcuffs. Lia knew it too, if her hateful glare at Cox was any indication.

Next out of the plane was Lyle, followed by Raines. Raines got down with the help of a sweeper, and Broots was surprised to see that the sweeper was Willie. He couldn't help staring in amazement at him, and in the back of his mind he wondered how, after all he'd been through, he could still be astounded so easily. It was just Willie, after all, but Broots really hadn't expected to see him here… wherever 'here' was, that was. This trip was a new form of hell, and he still saw the sweeper as a, well, as a nice guy. He'd helped out Astrea, after all.

"Where are we?" Lyle sneered, looking at the tropical jungle surrounding them, "Rudyard Kipling's house?"

"Welcome to Kashmir, Lyle," Cox said, almost jovially, "the Centre's home away from home, and the Triumvirate's blight."

"It will… not be a blight for… much longer…" Raines gasped out, slowly accustoming to the air and pressure change, "…if the project we have here… works."

"Raines, my dear fellow, since when have any of the Centre's projects gone off without a hitch?"

Score a point for the scary Englishman, Broots thought sourly.

Lia was still looking confused, and as discreetly as possible she managed to ask him 'Where are we?' through universally known hand gestures.

Broots mouthed back, 'India'.

Her eyes widened to the point where the tech was afraid they'd simply pop out of her sockets. Broots didn't much blame her. The kid looked like she'd never been to New York, much less to a foreign country.

Suddenly, Broots was administered a hard shove to the back that almost made him lose his already shaky balance. He steadied himself as best he could in his handcuffs however, and turned in the direction of his assailant. It was Willie, looking down at him from behind black sunglasses with a stoic expression.

"Move," the black sweeper said slowly, dragging out the word and a putting commanding voice behind it.

Never being one to question force (at least not often), Broots obliged and started to trudge through the thick undergrowth and into the deeper parts of India's jungles, heading along a path that would no doubt lead to a place that even this deadly forest feared to face.

3:14 pm, Sunday

On Don's Aircraft

Heading Towards India

"This is ground control to Major Tom," Don sang jovially with the radio, "you've really made the grade! And the paper's want to know whose shirts you wear. Now it's time to leave the capsule if you—"

"Will somebody please shut him up?" Miss Parker growled in the back seat, squished between Jarod and Arthur, her clenched fists closing and opening rhythmically.

"Oh, I don't know," Astrea (on the far left) said in an introspective kind of voice, but with a wolfish smile. "I think he's got a wonderful out-of-tune voice." And then, just to spite her, Astrea began to hum along.

Miss Parker gave her a glare so full of hatred that her left eye started twitching. "When I get you back to the Centre…"

Astrea barked out a few, harsh laughs. "Oh, Miss Parker, you're so funny! Jarod, you never told me what a comedian she was."

Jarod made a small noise of acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He wasn't going to get into the middle of this. Astrea's "illness" seemed to have changed her entirely— you only had to look at that hyena-like glint in her eyes to know that much. She was unstable. And instability in a pretender— especially in one who shared an affinity to animals— was downright dangerous. Adding her to Miss Parker was like splitting an atom— the act was such a small thing, but it had monstrous results.

In other words, he'd have to be loony to try and play peacemaker between them.

"What are you reading?"

Jarod looked over at Arthur, and was painfully aware that he'd become the center of attention.

"It's one of the books we picked up at the bookstore," he said, showing the cover: World Languages, Volume III. "It's a six volume set written by a rather famous linguist. It has the basics of Spanish, French, German, Sign Language, Simplified Chinese, and two of the more prominent languages of India. I thought that it wouldn't hurt to learn as much 'Indian' as I could before we land there."

Miss Parker snorted derisively.

Astrea merely tilted her head to the side, a small smirk on her face.

"Oh… well, jolly good, then," Arthur said. "But how can you…um, well, you know…"

Jarod smiled. "I can learn a lot in only a few hours, Arthur. Call it a talent of mine."

"And yet he hasn't managed to learn anything about me over the past three years," Miss Parker mused. "Hmm. Interesting."

The pretender suppressed the urge to send her a sour look when he realized (if only subconsciously) that she was right. He didn't know anything about her— not where it mattered.

Jarod suddenly gave a smile, a smirk full of mischief and puckish plotting that had angered more than one sweeper in its day.

No, he didn't really know her…

But a week in India was more than enough time to get acquainted.

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Review Returns:

Kir: Thank you very much for the compliments. I was at first uneasy about mixing the first and third person perspectives, but I'm glad that you enjoy them. Also, as to your Debbie suggestion, she will not have a major role in this story… but perhaps she will show up in the sequel. wink

Pez7701: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I of course will keep posting chapters. ShadowElfBard NEVER abandons a story!

Onisius: Yeah, I tried to convey that though Debbie was finding out a lot about people, she was still a child and children 'say the darndest things'. Thanks for the info on their meeting, by the way. I got so interested that I looked up that show's plot synopsis. It sounded like it was a great one— it's too bad I missed it.

Rem-Cycle: As always, I was delighted to get another lengthy review from you— they really make my day. I'm glad you enjoyed the little sparks that went off between people. There are definitely some negative and positive charges between the characters and I love shoving them together to see what happens. Also, your insights on Sydney seem really well founded and thought out. Yes, I also agree that he seems to be a pillar of stregth, but his age is evident, and he just can't make the trip. Besides, someone has to watch Debbie. Anywho, thank you VERY much for the review (and the compliments, can't forget about those) and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Pretender Fanatic: You like Arthur? So do I. There's just something about the English that makes them very comical and fun to write about. (I also can't get enough of their slang! ;-D) Also, you can probably expect to see one or to more little confrontations in the future— as you said, they're just waiting to happen. Also, I too am surprised at the number of reviews 'Elf 17' and 'Silent Feelings' have received. But, of course, I couldn't be happier.

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Well, here's another chapter! I hope that you liked the third-person and weren't too annoyed by it. Also, you might have noticed that my formatting has changed. That is a result of the need to experiment. It is also a result of the fact that FF.net screwed up the last chapter I uploaded (it was to another story) and so I'm going to try and see if this works. Thanks for your patience, and I hope to see you soon!

Tootles!