Mint On The Pillow

Part Four - Aftermath

Miss Parker sat at her computer, ostensibly compiling a report on her activities in Minneapolis, the very notion of which was ridiculous to her. She tried to imagine the look on Mr. Raines' face, on her father's face, if she were to write anything remotely resembling the truth.

She stared at her blank document, uncaring. In fact the truth was that she had felt very little other than hollow since she returned. It had been a whole day... she should be over it by now.

I've had plenty of one-night-stands before, she told herself, This is no different.

A lie, pure and simple, like the ones she would hand in, double-spaced, to her superiors.

...But there was someone who knew the truth.

Whatever his opinions, Sydney had mercifully kept them to himself on the flight back to Dover, had refrained from making any attempt at getting her to 'open up and share her feelings'... an extremely difficult thing for a psychiatrist.

All day she had expected him to appear at her door with that slightly expectant but always concerned expression on his face. He was nowhere to be seen. Miss Parker wondered if he had simply made a supreme effort not to stick his nose in, or even, however unlikely, that he had somehow gone to meet Jarod, to hear his side of the story.

She wasn't going to kid herself about any conclusions he might have jumped to. He'd found her quite obviously naked beneath the bedclothes, and in handcuffs... rape springs to mind, and Sydney was probably tearing his hair out at the thought that his sweet boy might have turned savage.

Nothing was farther from the truth, at least, it hadn't been that night. Miss Parker had been more than willing to listen to his whispered confessions of love, his promise that she wouldn't be alone...

Except that in the morning she was alone. Alone and hurt. She had always despised the kind of women who waited pathetically by the phone for their man to call, and last night, she had become that hated cliché. He had not phoned, had sent no message of any kind, only left her to finally acknowledge the painful truth: it had all been a ruse to escape.

She remembered the fire in his eyes as he told her that he would never return to the Centre. At that moment she had believed he would do anything to avoid it, but only now did she realise what lengths he would go to... using her, abusing the bond between them. She dropped her head into her hands and wept like a wounded child.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sydney's emails had gone unanswered; it seemed Jarod was no more inclined to discuss the incident than Miss Parker. But they would have to talk about it sooner or later, he knew, for sanity's sake. Things left unsaid began to eat away at the soul, and these two were souls he cared very much about.

The quiet scientist had observed both of them for more years than he could count, been a friend and guide, trying his best to safeguard their fragile hearts in such a twisted environment as the Centre. He could still remember the first time they had met as children, their hands pressed together through reinforced glass. Despite his concerns, and the stern warnings of his superiors to keep their interaction to a minimum, the youngsters had formed a powerful bond of friendship and attraction which time and distance had not diminished. Truth be told, the day Mr. Parker had requisitioned his daughter to search for Jarod, Sydney predicted their tender history would resurface, however embittered and cynical Miss Parker had become.

Their relationship, thrown into chaos by the hunt, had now been fractured even further by whatever had gone on in Minneapolis. After pacing his office, checking his empty inbox every fifteen minutes or so, Sydney decided that whatever denials and refusals of his support were in store for him, he would be there for Miss Parker today, just as he had been there in her childhood.

- - - - - - - - - -

Miss Parker's office was dim, barely illuminated by the serenely oozing lava lamp on her desk. Her storm of tears had given way to quiet depression, her eyes still stinging, tears drying on her cheeks and mascara on her shirt sleeve as she slumped at her desk, head down on her folded arms.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a handkerchief was passed down to her. She jumped, certain she would turn to meet Lyle's cruel grin, but instead Sydney smiled reassuringly at her. She accepted the hanky and wiped her hot face.

"How on earth did you manage it?" she asked him weakly.

"Manage what?"

"To curb your professional curiosity for," she looked at her watch, "Almost twelve hours."

Sydney smiled; even in despair she would still turn to sarcasm. "With extreme effort. But as you can see, I crumbled, and so here I am."

"And if I don't feel like talking?" she challenged. Sydney simply shrugged, his kind eyes looking into hers, melting the irrational resentment that had been building inside her. He put a hand to her shoulder briefly and turned to leave. Miss Parker was incredulous... this was the most compulsive shrink in the world...

"Y-you're not going to ask me what happened?"

At the door, he turned. "No, I'm not. I'm going to hope that you know you can talk to me whenever you are ready. You won't get an inquisition from me, Parker. Not this time."

Suddenly, as he was about to step out of her office, before the quiet confidentiality of the space was broken, Miss Parker felt a sudden imperative need to correct any misconceptions, to save the old man's feelings somehow.

"Sydney--" she began, struggling with the words. "Jarod didn't... he didn't..." she let the obvious word float, unspoken.

When Sydney met her gaze again, she could see the relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you," he mumbled, and left.

End of Part Four