*Author's note: takes place at the end of the third season finale where Jarod is captured. Sorry NBC and TnT...
Purgatory: Part IV
Lyle opened the door to Sydney's room quietly. The
gesture was subdued and calm, ironic to anyone who did not know the true nature
of the psychopath for the action seemed almost respectful. Sydney realized that
control emanated from Lyle's simplest movements. Silence, once peace to Jarod,
now thrummed with treachery. Jarod could no longer trust his sight to keep him
from danger. Jarod's brown eyes moved beneath his dark brow. His blind gaze
rested on his unseen tormentor. "David," Lyle murmured hypnotically.
Jarod exploded, throwing himself backward off the couch. He fell against
a table, sending a lamp crashing to the ground. It shattered next to his face.
Jarod twisted away from the shower of glass.
"Jarod!" Sydney shouted in
alarm.
Jarod moaned in pain. "No! Don't let him take me, Sydney! Don't
let him take me!" Jarod scrambled to his feet, using the wall for support. He
backed into a corner as Sam advanced on him. Jarod fought savagely against Sam
as he tried to subdue him. "Help me, Sydney!" Jarod cried desperately.
Sydney turned to Lyle, "Lyle, don't do this!"
Lyle leaned
against the doorway passively, watching the disruption in cool disinterest.
"He is my project this time, Sydney."
Jarod swung awkwardly at
Sam, hitting him in the shoulder. Sam grunted and thrust his fist deep into
Jarod's stomach. Jarod gasped for breath, crumpling to his knees. Sam grabbed a
fistful of his hair and twisted Jarod's face up. Jarod's face contorted in pain,
but he did not speak.
"You do not hit me, understand?" Jarod blankly
stared ahead. "Do you understand?" Sam slapped him across the face. Jarod
tumbled sideways over the broken lamp, the shards bit into him. He stood.
"Jarod," Sam started menacingly. Lyle cut him short.
"That's
enough. We're going."
Sydney gazed sadly at his former protégé.
They threw him into his room. Jarod noticed thankfully that the
glass was gone. He felt his way around the room, a small cot sat to his left, to
his right was a small bathroom. He edged forward until his fingers hit another
wall. It was smooth, glass. He felt around, it covered the whole wall. He threw
a fist at the wall; he had no way of knowing if it was a mirror or a window. He
had no way of knowing if anyone watched him now. He slowly slid down the length
of the glass, and drew up his knees. He rocked back and forth, quietly sobbing.
From a grate above two eyes stared solemnly at Jarod.
Miss
Parker stalked the halls. Power radiated from the stiff posture to the sharp
clicks of her stilettos on the hard linoleum. With the grace of a dancer she
grasped the doors and thrust them open. Her father sat at his desk alone. She
allowed the sound of her heels to reverberate around the room as she walked up
to him.
"Daddy, why won't you let me see Jarod."
"Hi, Angel, why
don't you sit down."
"Daddy…"
"Shh, I don't want you to see
him."
"Why?"
"It's not good for the retraining. He needs a
stable environment."
"Retraining- you make him sound like an
animal."
Mr. Parker paused, thinking. "Angel, he's not… right, he's
greatly disturbed. We want to make him better before you see him. Your presence
could interrupt the program."
"Daddy, he saved my life."
"That's
right. But it was his duty, he works for the Centre."
"He risked his
future to save me."
"He has a future here…"
Deep in the
catacombs of the Centre, a desolate Jarod stopped sobbing…
and started
screaming.