Parker set her keys on the entryway table, and turned toward Sydney who was a few paces behind her. He looked a little worse for the wear, but nonetheless Parker was irritated with the inconvenience of the entire affair.
"Okay Dr. Doolittle, go get into bed. I'll check on you every few hours and if you need anything in the meantime, give me a yell."
One of his elegant eyebrows raised slightly. "Your bedside manner is almost as touching as your concern for my welfare, Miss Parker."
He turned and walked down the hall, and closed the bathroom door behind him. She stared in the direction he'd gone, unable to resist a slight grin. There was nothing Parker enjoyed more than ruffling Sydney's normally unflappable feathers, although she had to admit, he wasn't exactly capable of meeting her on equal ground at the moment. She headed into the living room and sat down on the couch, pulling out her cell phone. She punched in a code and a few minutes later a voice answered.
"Tech room. Broots."
"Meeting's off for the day."
"Miss Parker? Thank God. I was getting worried about you.... I went to Sydney's office, but you weren't there, and you weren't answering your cell phone."
"Dr. Frankenstein's taken a little knock to the head, nothing to get in a twist over, but I've brought him home, and he's on 24 hour bedrest."
"Is he all right?"
"Yes, he's fine, albeit a little grouchy. Listen Broots, I want you to check the security tapes from Sydney's office for the past twelve hour period."
"What am I looking for?"
"For the person who hit him on the head, you moron. I want to know what happened."
"I'll get right on it. And Miss Parker?"
"What?"
"Take good care of Sydney, okay?"
"Don't be ridiculous Broots, if there's one thing that's harder than granite, it's Sydney's head. Let me know the minute you find something."
"Will do."
Parker put the phone away, and looked down the hall. Sydney was still in the bathroom. She frowned slightly, stood and walked toward the door. She leaned in at the door and listened for a moment. She could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching coming from within. Parker rolled her eyes; it was just her luck. Sighing, she knocked on the door.
"Sydney, are you okay?"
He vomited again and then responded. "Does it sound like it to you, Parker?"
"You're a pain in the ass Freud, you know that?"
She opened the door to find Sydney kneeling in front of the toilet, once again emptying the contents of his stomach. Parker scrunched her face up in disgust before going to him. She knelt down next to him steadying him with one hand and rubbing gentle circles on his back with the other.
"Take it easy, Syd. Try and relax a little."
"I heard you talking to someone...."
"I called Broots. He's checking the surveillance tapes. We should have an answer soon." In response Sydney leaned once again into the toilet, and Parker rolled her eyes. "Some people get to command million dollar budgets and armies of minions. I get a moronic computer technician, a deranged science experiment, and a beat up old man. I don't think life could get any better...."
As Sydney proceeded to become violently ill, the seemingly reluctant Miss Parker reached for a washcloth, soaked it with cool water, and held it to his forehead. She stayed with him, gently supporting him until he was so exhausted he couldn't move. Parker pulled his head to her shoulder and ran a soothing hand over his face.
"It's over, Syd. Catch your breath for a minute, then we'll get you to bed."
But even as he lay against her, taking in her tenderness, he knew it was all about to come crashing in upon him. Broots would see the playback of the DSA on the security tape, and probably some of the information contained in the file folder, and from that moment on, Miss Parker would most likely cut him out of every aspect of her life. And somewhere deep down, Sydney knew it was what he deserved. What really terrified him was the effect that the information contained in the file might have on the young woman who had become such a part of him. He could bear any justice he had coming to him, as long as nothing happened to Miss Parker in the process; but reckoning the players involved, Sydney knew they would not spare her in ridding themselves of him. And his heart sank.
She felt Sydney bury his face into her neck, followed by the unmistakable shudder of desolate weeping. Parker rubbed the back of his head softly, not understanding the source of his sudden emotional display.
"Syd......Sydney. It's okay. You're just reacting to the concussion. Take it easy now."
But the sound was familiar, and she knew the inner sense was guiding her....
Miss Parker stood at the front door of her house and waved to Mr. Finnegan, her friend Megan's father. She smiled to herself; it was a rare day when her father allowed her to go to a friend's house to play, and she had even been given permission to stay there for dinner as well! Megan's family was large; she was one of seven children, and they were all loud and fun loving. Even Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan had a good time with their kids. At dinner they went around the table asking everyone what they had accomplished that day, who they saw, who they helped, and what they learned. Miss Parker wondered why her family didn't eat dinner together every night, much less ask each other what they had done that day. The Finnegan's house seemed so much more alive, and interesting than hers. It wasn't as elegant or as neat, but it was much more of a home.
She walked into the large house, which was unusually dark given the hour. She switched a few lights on and called out for her mother.
"Momma? Momma, where are you? I'm home!"
The little girl was met only with silence. She knew her mother had to be home, because her car had been in the driveway. And Miss Parker thought she saw Sydney's car parked out on the street, along with another one she hadn't recognized. She went from room to room, looking for any sign of life, but there wasn't a sound in the house. But as she neared the top of the stairs, she heard it. A hollow sound of desolation, despair. It was the sound of soulful weeping. And she thought she heard the comforting low sounds of a male voice.
Miss Parker followed the noises to the door of the last room of the hallway. It was slightly ajar, and she peered in. It was very dark, and she thought she saw shadows along the walls. On the floor near the window was a crushed bouquet of white mums and roses shimmering still in the moonlight that shone through the one open window. Miss Parker's mother was crying and clinging to someone. Miss Parker knew it had to be her father, but as she pushed the door slightly wider, she saw that it wasn't Mr. Parker comforting his distraught wife, but instead, Sydney.
"Catherine, I'm so sorry.....I didn't mean for this to happen....please forgive me."
Miss Parker's mother didn't answer, but instead continued to weep. As Sydney gently lifted her mother's face, the little girl could see that she had been badly beaten. Why would Sydney do such a thing?