Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Burden of Truth pt2

By Phenyx

05/13/2005

Jarod ached.

Every muscle in his body hurt. He tried to open his eyes, but the heavy lids seemed glued shut. It was difficult to swallow around his swollen and coated tongue. Jarod made a feeble attempt to roll over, barely registering the moan he made as he did so.

Forget it. He wasn't going to move an inch. At the moment, Jarod could not have cared less if the rest of the world was going to hell in a hand-basket. He felt like crap. He was going back to sleep and anyone who didn't like it could just kiss his back end.

"Are you okay?" A voice broke through Jarod's misery, the sound clamoring through his brain with the subtlety of a freight train. The tip of a leather shoe poked Jarod in the shoulder making him groan again.

With a weary sigh, Jarod forced his eyes to open. He slowly regained the use of his limbs, taking several minutes to push himself into a sitting position. Once he was finally able to focus his vision, Jarod glanced around the room and found that he was not alone.

"Hello," Jarod's companion said. "We meet again."

Jarod frowned. "Nicholas," he asked. "What are you doing here?"

The younger man shrugged. "Same as you I would guess. Two large men abducted me in an alley."

"Men in dark suits," Jarod said as he ran both hands through the hair on top of his head.

"I don't think so." Nicholas shook his head. "I had been drugged and was still a bit fuzzy when I was brought in. But I'm pretty sure at least one of them was wearing work boots. They made a heavy clunking sound when he walked."

Jarod's head snapped up in surprise and he immediately regretted it. An intense bout of vertigo struck with such ferocity that he saw stars. For a long moment, Jarod fought an overwhelming need to vomit. Confusion only added to Jarod's dizziness.

When Jarod's world had abruptly gone black some unknown length of time ago, he had assumed that The Centre had caught up to him. He'd been in a park on a sun-filled afternoon eating an ice cream cone. Children had been laughing on the swings nearby and the scene had been almost idyllic. Jarod hadn't seen anyone out of the ordinary. No one had approached him. Without warning, a sharp pain had pierced into his shoulder. There had been only enough time for Jarod's mind to register the feeling of a metal dart in his flesh. Then nothingness.

Heaving his body off the floor, Jarod swayed across the room toward the large sink. He slipped his jacket from his shoulders and allowed the leather to drop. When Jarod turned the sink's metal spigots, the faucet sputtered for a moment then began spewing rusty brown water. It took nearly a minute before the color began to change and another before the water was running clear. Cupping his hands together, Jarod drank then he bent over and stuck his head under the icy flow.

The lethargic, medicated feeling faded rapidly. Jarod straightened, shaking his head like a wet dog. The resulting headache was only a dull thud, not the screaming agony of a few minutes ago.

Ignoring Nicholas for the moment, Jarod gazed around the room with clearer eyes. This wasn't The Centre. After spending three decades within its walls, Jarod knew the very heartbeat of that place. The faint dustiness in the air of this room was not the same re-circulated sterility of The Centre's ventilation system. Nicholas' presence confirmed the theory. The Centre would never lock Jarod away with someone to keep him company.

Jarod bent over and retrieved his jacket. A quick inventory revealed that the pockets had been emptied. His watch was gone, as was the switchblade he'd had tucked in his boot.

"Do you know what's going on?" Nicholas asked.

"I'm as clueless as you are," Jarod replied as he pulled on his jacket.

The younger man crossed his arms in annoyance. "Not quite," he said. "You know my name."

"True."

"Are you going to tell me who you are?" Nicholas asked.

Jarod gazed intently at his cellmate. The deliberate stare continued in silence for so long that the younger man began to squirm uncomfortably. "No." Jarod finally answered.

"No?" Nicholas gasped.

"No," Jarod repeated firmly. "If Sydney didn't tell you, he obviously doesn't want you to know."

Nicholas pounced on that statement like a cat on a bird. "Sydney? You know Sydney?"

Without responding, Jarod turned his back on the other man and went to the door. He examined the panel carefully, running his fingertips along every crack. He heard Nicholas come nearer, but did nothing to acknowledge his presence.

"You have to at least tell me your name," Nicholas said.

Jarod turned and glared menacingly at the younger man. "I don't have to do anything," he growled. Nicholas took a wary step backward and Jarod belatedly became aware of his companion's tension. "I'm not going to hurt you," Jarod added.

The suspicious look in Nicholas' eyes did not change.

Jarod sighed with irritation. "My name is Jarod," he said. Volunteering his name was the least he could do for the poor guy. Nicholas had obviously been dragged into something way over his head, again. Jarod didn't need to make this any harder.

He supposed that if he wanted to, Jarod could make things easier for Nicholas, lighten things up a bit and ease his worries. But Jarod didn't want to. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason for it, but Jarod had no desire to make this situation easier for the other man.

"So is Jarod your first name or your last name?" Nicholas asked.

"Yes," Jarod replied. He gave up on his inspection of the door and strode to the other side of the room. Putting his back to the wall, Jarod slid to the floor. He sat with his knees in the air and propped his forearms across them casually. He prepared himself for what could be a long wait.

Nicholas chose to lean against the wall to Jarod's left. He sat down too, crossing his legs Indian-style. "Are we just going to sit here and stare at each other?" Nicholas asked after a time.

"It would appear so," Jarod drawled.

Tilting his head thoughtfully Nicholas said, "You're not a very friendly character are you?"

Jarod frowned. "I can be extremely friendly when I want to be," he replied with indignation.

"But at the moment, you don't want to be."

"Not particularly," Jarod agreed.

Nicholas smirked. "Being kidnapped makes me cranky too."

"It can affect some people that way," Jarod said.

"We've met before," Nicholas continued. "You didn't seem too friendly then either."

Jarod shrugged. "Lyle has a knack for spoiling my genial nature."

"He seemed to be a likeable enough fellow," Nicholas said.

Frowning angrily Jarod hissed, "Yeah, he's a real charmer until he puts a bullet in you." Jarod sighed and tried to reign in his temper. "Look, can we just not talk? Circumstances have forced us together but that doesn't mean that we need to get chummy."

"I don't see why we can't be allies in this," Nicholas argued.

"We are not allies," Jarod snapped. Even as he said it, he wondered why he was so annoyed by the suggestion. "We are not friends. We are not now, nor will we ever be pals. You don't know me and I don't want to know you. Got it?"

"Got it," Nicholas replied in a subdued voice.

"Good."

Silence reigned for several minutes. Then Nicholas said, "You're angry with me. What have I done to make you so irate?"

Rather than answer, Jarod hopped to his feet and began to pace like a caged tiger.

"I don't even know you," Nicholas observed. "And yet you dislike me so much, you want to strangle me."

Jarod's prowling halted abruptly. "I wouldn't say it is that bad."

"Bad enough," Nicholas said. "It has nothing to do with the situation we find ourselves in. It is as if I have wounded you in some way, inadvertently perhaps. But you are definitely upset with me personally."

Jarod shook his head with an exasperated sigh. "You sound just like…" He stopped himself before finishing the sentence, quickly rephrasing the words he'd nearly uttered. "A shrink," he finished lamely.

"Sydney," Nicholas smiled. "You were going to say that I sound just like my father."

Jarod's stunned gaze bored into the younger man's eyes. A sudden insight, bordering on an epiphany, flashed in Jarod's mind. The truth of it crashed into Jarod, wrapping his heart in a crushing tightness. He knew now, why Nicholas' presence annoyed him this way.

Nicholas was an observant man. "This is about Sydney, isn't it?"

"It has nothing to do with you," Jarod said. He turned his back and resumed pacing.

"On the contrary," Nicholas disagreed. "I think it has a lot to do with me."

"This is between me and Sydney," Jarod growled. "It is none of your damn business."

Nicholas was quiet for a long time. Jarod paced, desperate to get rid of some of his frustration. Just when Jarod had begun to think that the other man was going to leave it alone, Nicholas spoke again. "Are you my brother?" he asked.

Jarod flinched. A kick in the stomach would have been kinder. Jarod's knees buckled and he flopped into a sitting position on the floor. Glaring dejectedly at nothing, Jarod allowed his long hair to hide his face, veiling his pain from the other man. Slowly, with resignation, Jarod shook his head.

"No," he whispered. Jarod left the rest of the thought unspoken. 'But how I wish it had been so.'

Jarod's soft response was still hanging in the air when there was a loud click. The door swung open soundlessly and the topic of their discussion stumbled into the room. Sydney, pushed through the door by unseen hands, was forced to pinwheel his arms to keep himself upright. Directly behind him, almost stepping on Sydney's heels, was Miss Parker. She had been bound about the wrists with what appeared to be her own scarf.

Miss Parker crashed gracelessly into Sydney's back but she recovered quickly. Whirling in the direction from which she had come, Miss Parker threw herself at the door. As the exit slammed shut in her face, Miss Parker pounded her fists on it in fury.

"DAMN!" She screamed.

Jarod shook his head in baffled wonder. "Well now, isn't this a special occasion," he drawled.

Miss Parker glared at him. "Jarod?" she gasped. "What the hell is going on?"

"What makes you think I would know?" he replied.

Miss Parker strode to Sydney's side and thrust her hands at him, silently demanding that he untie her wrists. As Sydney complied she said, "I assume you are behind this sick little game."

"I thought you were," Jarod told her.

"Not hardly," she growled as she rubbed at her wrists.

"Well then," Jarod observed. "It looks as though we might be in a bit of trouble. Doesn't it?"

End part2