Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 please.
Author's note: This chapter is devoid of certain explanations purposely. I hope all who read it, will enjoy.

Time to Consider
Chapter 2
By Callisto

Abernathy Residence
Hickory, IN

Everything was spinning. He hadn't opened his eyes yet but the world was topsy turvey and all he wanted was to get off. Opening his eyes only made matters worse. Taking a deep breath and squinting drunkenly at the ceiling, he concentrated on a single spot. Gradually, his equilibrium returned causing him to sigh deeply, if not carefully. This feeling of calm lasted only a few seconds. He opened his eyes again to find he was in a warm, homey room, lying on what appeared to be a couch. A sudden fear clutched at him as he thought Parker had finally caught him and he was currently under guard at one of the Centre's numerous safe houses. Slowly, he worked saliva into his very dry mouth and peered around, mindful that his vertigo could return in retaliation for his lack of care. From the looks of it, he was alone in a room that appeared on the surface to be conventional but there was something out of place about it. He tried to put his finger on it but it kept eluding him. The sound of footsteps approaching caused a knot of fear to solidify in his belly. He could try to bolt for freedom, though he felt the effort would most likely be fruitless. Parker wasn't sloppy like her twin, Lyle and would have sweepers stationed at each exit. Despite his predicament he discovered he was hungry and hoped he would be able to get something to eat while trying to convince her not to return him.

She strolled through the door as if there wasn't a pressing care in the world. Without breaking her stride, she glanced at him, smiled and nonchalantly passed him by on her way to the kitchen. The shock he felt reflected brilliantly on his face making her casual reaction all the more puzzling. His eyes followed her every movement, transfixed by this waking vision. Internally, Jarod thoughts ranged from believing he was dreaming, thinking this was some kind of bizarre hoax dreamt up by the Centre in an effort to get him to cooperate, to the belief that somehow she had found him but wasn't fully aware of his identity. The emotionally beleaguered soul on the couch was about to receive another shock. Through the same door the woman had breezed into his life, yet another came rolling through as if it were the most natural thing for him to do.

The young man was following in the woman's footsteps when he called out to her in a teenaged-deepened voice, "Hey, are you making breakfast now? 'Cause I'm starved. Well, we both are." The boy looked at Jarod and offered a friendly smile as he passed by and remarked with caustic humor, "You should close your mouth there Jarod. Looks like your trying to catch something that shouldn't be caught."

Slowly Jarod got up and looked at the other two. Their backs were to him as they chatted and lightly disputed the other's idea of what breakfast should be. As though his feet were made of concrete, he approached them in the kitchen. The boy looked up for a second before returning to what he was doing. The woman didn't pay him any attention at all; she was too busy scrambling what appeared to be a dozen eggs. When she put the bowl down, Jarod slid up to her and wrapped her in a bone- crushing embrace. Nonplussed by this unaccustomed display of affection, the woman started swatting at him to let her go, though it was done laughingly. Jarod refused and whispered softly in her thick, red ponytail, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, honey. Now let me go, please. Are you feeling all right? What exactly were you and your friends doing last night? I assume beer played a large role," she asked inquisitively as she turned on the stove and placed a few pans on top of their burners.

"Last night?" Jarod thought for a few seconds when the whole scene between him and Parker slid effortlessly into place in his mind. "I was in a warehouse and there was someone chasing me," he began.

"Chasing you? Bro' I think you have it the other way around. You were probably chasing after Asia Kraemer but she wasn't having any, as usual," the boy stated firmly.

"Kyle, leave your brother alone. Jarod, you look like you've had a rough night. I realize that your friends want to show you a good time before you leave, but obviously you boys went too far," Margaret lectured. "Hand me that package of sausages." Jarod looked at where she was pointing and handed her a defrosted pack of uncooked sausages, which she emptied into one of the skillets and started seasoning. Noticing the hungry look appear on her eldest son's face, she continued in a sterner voice, calculated out of practice, to get him moving, "Go wash up, Jay and while you're at it go up and tell your father and sister that breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes."

Jarod knew an order when he heard one. He left the kitchen and followed her orders, though haltingly. In his mind, he settled on the notion that this was some sort of wishful dream he was living through. Shrugging, he decided this was far better than the reality he last remembered.

Once inside the upstairs restroom, and recovering from the shock of seeing his father with completely dark hair, except some gray at the temples and a pre-teen Emily who answered him in an irritated mumble, the final shock occurred after he closed and locked the door to the bathroom.

Ferrer Residence
Mar Azul, Portugal

Welcome sounds from a lifetime ago wafted dreamily into her consciousness. A large and satisfied yawn preceded her opening her eyes. The second she did, she regretted it. The walls in the room began to spin crazily. Closing her eyes and slowing her breathing, she sought to control the dizziness, dreading the emergence of the headache that usually followed and introducing a hangover. Slowly reopening her eyes, her head began to pound and the world started twirling again. Staring up at the ceiling, she concentrated on a point in the faded paint until the spinning finally stopped. Relived, she looked around. There was nothing familiar about her immediate surroundings and listening more carefully, she realized that she was no longer in Buenos Aires—the language was different, slightly more melodic, to her ears anyway. Frowning her shrug, she slowly came to a seated position. The room obviously belonged to somebody's teenaged daughter. There were tasteful posters adorning the walls and a pink, frilly stole had been artfully draped across a chair on which sat a large, stuffed toy rabbit.

After a few deep breaths, she rolled her head slowly on her neck, listening for the usual creaks of released tension, but this time there were none. Encouragement urged her to venture a bit farther when the sound of a woman's voice from a distance called out.

"Mari, come down here! I'm leaving and I need to talk to you."

Parker listened for the pitter-patter of obedient feet to respond to the obviously impatient request but all was quiet outside her room. She assumed the beckoned must have been closer than she thought because everything outside her room returned to a deathly silence. Stretching leisurely, she was shocked when the door was abruptly thrown open and the woman appeared in the doorway. A portly, angry, middle-aged woman faced her unhappily.

"Maritza, why are you like this? So stubborn one minute, then sweet and angelic the next? She's been calling you for the past 15 minutes," the woman accused gently in fluent Portuguese.

With a jolt Parker realized she was the one the woman was calling. It had been years since anyone referred to her by her given name. Mainly because very few people knew what it was. Even those unrelated but closest to her were never made aware of her given name. Strangely the use of her name and the way the unseen woman pronounced it, in irritated frustration, reminded Parker of her mother. A stabbing pain pierced her heart and she looked away from the woman in the doorway to conceal the sudden, raw emotion that she knew had sprang into her face and eyes.

"Maritza, what's the matter, dear?" The non-judgmental tone in the woman's voice caused Parker to turn and look at her again. Eyes that showed only concern and love beamed eagerly from the woman's fleshy face.

"Nothing. It's just that....hearing her call my name like that and the way you pronounce it, reminded me of someone. Someone I miss," she replied, in an embarrassed voice.

"Really? Who? And since when did you start speaking English again? I thought you were 'committed to speaking nothing but Greek' as part of an immersion experiment? "

Parker smiled recalling how she had once done that and no one but the servants noticed. Today, it seemed like history was repeating itself. In truth, somehow, she must have been transported to the São Paulo affiliate. Probably at Raines' behest because she had lost Jarod yet again. Her last memory of how she had chased Jarod and then followed him into that crumbling warehouse monopolized her attention. She remembered a loud hum, kicking over a specimen jar and watching a tiny tree frog hop over to her, landing on her foot. She was about to launch it across the room with a swift kick, when an impossibly bright light started shining and Jarod disappeared..

Ana stared curiously at Maritza's puzzled frown, realizing that almost immediately she had became wrapped up in her own thoughts yet again. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a brightly colored amphibian. "Maritza, you've adopted another pet?" With an added shake of her head, the woman smiled indulgently at Parker who followed her eyes and found the brilliantly green, red-eyed fellow resting comfortably next to her on the bed. Fed up footsteps came up the stairs behind Ana. 'Poor Mari is in for it now.' Standing aside, Ana watched the other enter, stand in the middle of the room and stare indignantly.

Parker's mind was still occupied by the odd occurrence of Jarod disappearing before her eyes and wondering how to spin this latest incident in order to stave off Raines' ever increasing ire at her unwillingness to play along with the fiction that he was her father. She flinched at the memory of how that old putrefying fossil had try to feel up her legs during his holy-roller bullshit. Father, yeah right. Not even Rasputin could've continued laying in peace if he had that kind of rumor knocking around. Finally becoming aware of someone staring at her, Parker looked up. Her eyes widened and the blood rushed from her face. The woman narrowed her eyes at this reaction, wondering what was going on.

Slowly coming to her feet, Parker faced the woman, and asked in a tiny voice, "Mama?"

Catherine Parker kept staring at her wily, yet lovable daughter. Rebellion was new to her beautiful Maritza but it was starting to have adverse effects on Catherine's usually tight schedule. Resolved that this new wrinkle in her daughter's repertoire shouldn't delay her any more than necessary, Catherine absently ran her fingers through her short, thick hairdo and took a deep breath. Before she could utter a word, she found herself in a tight embrace from her daughter. Astonishment caused precious seconds to pass as the younger woman continued to squeeze as though trying to reassure herself that she wasn't in a dream.

Parker clung like she hadn't done since she was twelve. Her beloved mother was there, alive, and vibrant. Her mother's ever-present perfume wafted freshly from her body encouraging Parker to press her cheek against the soft cheek of her mother's.

Paying attention to the voices in her head was something new to Catherine when a soft, caressing voice told her to comfort her child. This time she listened as she tossed her purse on Maritza's bed and fully returned the embrace while slowly and methodically stroking the girl's back. After some time, Maritza slowly let her mother go, then leaned forward and kissed Catherine's face and started crying as though she was already aware that Catherine was planning to do something very foolhardy.

"Hey, what's with all these tears? You act like you haven't seen me in a month of Sundays. And where in heaven did you get those clothes?" Catherine chided gently. The obviously expensive clothes Maritza was dressed in made her look like she had raided her mother's closet because every stitch was too large and baggy and of a style that made Catherine pause.

"My God, is it true? Are you really here or is this my imagination?"

Catherine was about to respond angrily when she looked in Maritza's eyes. There was no guile or calculation there, only confusion and desperate hope. Feeling a great deal of confusion herself, Catherine was about to return her daughter's kiss and quickly leave when the voices returned more strident this time, urging her to stay. She allowed her shoulders to droop and turning to her housekeeper said, "Ana? Please put the kettle on, it looks like I need to spend the day with my little rogue."

"Of course, Dona Ferrer," Ana answered immediately. Her approval of Catherine's decision was clearly apparent in her voice.

Returning to her daughter's tear-stained face, Catherine smiled kindly at her and said, "Wipe those tears away and meet me downstairs in 5 minutes. I have an appointment I need to cancel." Nodding significantly at Maritza, Catherine slipped from her daughter's insistent grip on her arms and left the room.

Alone, Parker was still bowled over by her mother's appearance. Thinking it must be a trick or she was dreaming, it came down to not caring which it was, the fact that she had a chance to hold and kiss her mother one more time was enough. Turning to the mirror, Parker plucked a disposable tissue from the box in front of a dresser and looked into the mirror. Another surprise froze all thought and action as she glanced at her reflection. Not believing what was before her, Parker touched her face and hair gingerly, as though trying to convince herself that the impossible wasn't happening. The face that stared back at her was her own but reflected a visage Parker had not seen since she was seventeen. Her dark hair had been lightened to a warm, honey blonde and it flowed around her face and past her shoulders in a style that was easily reminiscent of the late '70's. The usual careworn face that subtly showed the tension and pressure of the past few months had given way to that of her teenaged self. All Parker could do was gulp, blink several times and stare at the impossible.