"There is something that I've been wondering," mused Sydney, "Your appearance has differed slightly since I realised who you are - and I don't think it's just my perception which has been altered. I don't believe it was entirely the glasses and having your curls tucked away that kept me from recognising you."
"Ah, the power of suggestion." I smirked and watched in amusement as Sydney saw my eyes change from green to brown and then back to their natural green again.
"Incredible!"
"But wait, there's more..." I joked.
Again, Sydney gaped as he witnessed my features change shape and size ever so slightly until I still looked like me - but not quite.
"So are you affecting your actual physical appearance or just my perception of it?" asked Sydney, fascinated.
"Your perception - oh, and that of anyone else who looks at me. It doesn't really take much effort - as long as I stay fairly close to the truth." I answered, then thought for a moment. "I've never tried to change myself physically - I might be able to do that too, who knows?"
"Who knows, indeed. Perhaps we will discover all sorts of things you've never even thought of trying." He remarked, smiling.
I smiled back and we discussed our plans for next week. Though the weekend still loomed ominously lonely before me, especially now Miss Parker's dinner was off, thoughts of beginning my training with Sydney on Monday filled me with hope and excitement.
Sydney and I were still talking animatedly when Broots returned from calling his daughter, Debbie. A thought occurred to me, and my feelings of hopefulness faded a little. I didn't dare ask Broots if our date for Saturday night was still on.
Broots was pleased that I was smiling again. "You look really pretty with your hair loose like that." He remarked shyly. Then confusion clouded his features. "Hold on a minute. Weren't your eyes brown before?"
Sydney and I looked at each other and grinned.
"Which colour do you prefer?" I asked Broots. He hesitated and I couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, there is no wrong answer, Broots."
He grinned sheepishly. "Well, in that case, I think that green seems to suit you best."
"Okay, green it is." I agreed and then added. "For you guys, that is. Brown for everyone else."
"I feel special now." joked Broots.
You are special. I projected the phrase towards his mind and wondered if he would be able to hear it. I had never openly spoken to someone with my mind before - except Angelo of course - so I didn't know if it would work on someone without telepathic or empathic abilities.
He gaped at me in surprise. "Did you just...?" When I nodded, he turned excitedly to Sydney. "Sydney, wow! I just heard Melinda's voice in my head! That is so cool."
Sydney was extremely impressed and I could practically hear the thoughts whizzing through his head about what we could work on next week.
It was time for him to head home, however, so he made a move to leave. "I look forward to seeing you early Monday morning, Mill...Melinda. You should go home and get some rest."
I nodded but was suddenly daunted by the prospect of being alone. My expression must have given away my feelings and caused him to pause.
"Will you be alright?" He asked with concern.
"Sure." I said, with false brightness. "No problem."
Sydney and Broots exchanged looks. They didn't believe me for a second.
Broots spoke up. "Hey, would you like to have dinner at my place? You know, since Miss Parker cancelled hers." He rambled on nervously. "Debbie will be there for dinner but then she's going to a friend's place. I'm sure there's something good on TV that we could watch or something."
I looked at him gratefully. "Thanks, Broots. That'd be great. I really couldn't face going home right now." Home. No such place existed for me. "Hold on, didn't you say that Debbie was staying over a friend's place on Saturday night?"
"That's right." replied Broots.
"And you just said that she was staying at a friend's place tonight as well."
"Yep. She's staying at Fiona's place tonight and then Sarah's tomorrow." He grinned with pride. "She's got heaps of friends - she's not a geek like her old man."
I smiled. "You're not a geek, Broots."
Just then, Sydney's mobile phone rang. "This is Sydney." He spoke into it as he moved slightly away from us for privacy. After he had finished his call, he turned to me.
"That was Miss Parker. Sam contacted her to inform her that the man who attacked you was a Centre Sweeper."
I grimaced. I really didn't want to think about what had happened in the carpark and not just because it was the catalyst for all the revelations that had followed. "Well, Syd, it hardly surprises me that The Centre would be employing people who are, let us just say, morally impaired."
"I was wondering how he would have got past all the security if he was just some guy off the street. That explains it alright." said Broots.
"Well, I think it's time we all left this place." Sydney said.
I couldn't help but be struck by that comment. Yes, perhaps it was time we all left The Centre and tried to find real lives, away from all the lies and pain. But, of course, he was referring to going home for the evening.
Sydney walked to his office and emerged with his briefcase and some files. "Goodnight, Broots. Goodnight, Melinda."
He was almost to the door when I called out to him, unable to stop myself. "Sydney?"
He turned back and looked at me. "Yes?"
I hesitated, and then in a very small voice asked, "Do you think Jarod would have cared about what happened to me when I was at The Centre?"
Sydney's eyes softened. "I think the answer to that question is obvious, don't you?"
I nodded my head slowly, my eyes down. "He would care because it was The Centre that was involved."
"That would be a factor certainly, but that is not what I meant." He turned to Broots. "Broots, get a few of Jarod's notebooks for Melinda to look at over the weekend."
Broots went white. "But Miss Parker..."
Sydney said firmly. "I'll deal with Miss Parker if she objects."
Broots hurried to a filing cabinet - one that was always kept locked - and quickly punched in a code to release the drawer. He withdrew about five rather ordinary looking red-coloured notebooks and brought them over to Sydney. Sydney flipped through them quickly - they appeared to be filled with newspaper cuttings.
Sydney turned to me. "Take these with you and read through them. I think you will soon understand Jarod's feelings on the subject of people who have been mistreated by anyone, not just The Centre." He smiled at me kindly. "We'll talk more about this next week, and in the meantime, I'm sure Broots will tell you about his experiences with Jarod."
Broots nodded. "Sure, no problem."
I smiled, feeling better and reached to take the books from Sydney. As he placed them in my hands, it was as though a jolt of electricity ran through my body. I just caught myself as I felt my knees begin to give way. Before I could do anything else, pictures started forming in my mind.
"I was taken from my family." The man from the picture Sydney had shown me says in a voice filled with infinite sorrow. Jarod. "My name is Jarod... Green, Clarke, Smith, Doyle, Wright..." The surnames go on and on. And so do the different occupations. "I can become anyone I want to be but I don't know who I am." Then I see flashes of victims being assisted - and of villains being brought to justice. A man in a long dark coat, walking away down a long dark street. He turns and looks back - it is Jarod and he is smiling, but his eyes are haunted and sad. Another good deed done, another goodbye. Another day on the run.
I shook myself and practically threw the books at Broots. He juggled them for a moment but managed not to drop any. "Ah, Syd." I laughed shakily. "I don't think I'll need to actually read these - but I just can't handle it right now. Could you carry them for me please, Broots?"
"What happened?" asked Sydney. They were both looking at me strangely and were filled with concern.
I brought my hands up to my cheeks and was surprised to find that they were wet. I wouldn't have believed I could cry any more that day. "Oh, you know," I replied lightly. "Just a summary of what is contained in these books in picture format."
"Amazing." Sydney said. "However, I think that you should wait a while before exposing yourself to them again. You've already been through enough for one day."
"I agree." Broots said firmly. "Are you ready to go?"
"Sure" I replied.
We all walked to the carpark together. As we approached, I felt panic rising within me.
"Just take deep breaths and try to relax." advised Sydney.
Broots took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "We'll be out of here before you know it."
Broots and I said goodbye to Sydney and got into Broots' car, deciding to leave my car at The Centre for the time being. The silence between us felt so strange. Before all this, even though we hadn't really socialised outside of work, Broots and I had never had a problem finding something to say to each other. I could sense that he felt awkward now that neither Sydney nor Miss Parker were there - and now that I was composed and no longer needing him to cling to, he felt unsure of what to say or do.
"I kinda feel like you're a whole new person - someone I'm just meeting for the first time." Broots said after we had been driving for a while.
"I'm still the same." I replied quietly. "With you I was always pretty much being myself. There were just things about me that you didn't know."
"I know. It's a lot to take in all at once. I guess it's going me a bit of time to get used to the whole idea of you being able to read my mind. It's not something you can take lightly, you know?"
I nodded. "You don't really have to worry about that too much. I'm not, like, monitoring your thoughts or anything. I can just hear things that you think 'loudly'."
He laughed delightedly. "I bet you sometimes feel like telling people, 'Shut up, you're thinking too loudly and I can't concentrate!'."
I laughed too. "Yeah, sometimes. The thing is, that if, for example, I really annoyed you and you thought 'stupid bitch' or something, it wouldn't really upset me because I can tell the feeling behind it is only temporary and not real. Does that make any sense?"
"I guess." He still sounded unsure. "I don't know if I could handle it if I knew what people were thinking about me."
"Well, you haven't lived like it all your life. It's completely natural to me. If someone suddenly developed powers like mine then I guess they would find it difficult not to be sensitive to things like that."
"That makes sense." We stopped at a traffic light and Broots turned to look at me intently. "I really want our friendship to work. That means I need to know things about who you are and about your powers so I won't get paranoid or anything. Can we be honest with each other and talk about things like this?" He rambled on. "I know, it will be frustrating having to reassure me, when your whole life nobody knew and you've never had to explain..."
"It's okay, Broots." I took his hand. "It's kind of nice being totally myself with someone. Particularly someone who knows the truth about me and doesn't run away shrieking."
He grinned. "Is that what you really expected would happen?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. Either that or be dragged into a SimLab, be forced to take part in horrible experiments and never again see the light of day."
The light turned green and he drove on. He had fallen silent again at my last words. I didn't mean to make him feel bad. He was a good guy who happened to be working for the bad guys - and that didn't mean he was on their side. In lots of ways, the three of them - Broots, Sydney and Miss Parker - did seem to be the bad guys. After all, they were trying to return Jarod to the hell he had escaped from - but at the same time they often protected him where possible from harm and their search for truth was positive. There were many conflicting pieces of information - motives and actions, thoughts and words did not agree. The whole situation was a murky quagmire than even someone with my abilities found difficult to decipher completely. But then, murkiness and contradiction were hardly unusual words to associate with things involving The Centre.
Eventually, Broots pulled into a driveway and announced. "Here we are."
We wandered into his house together. Inside it was spacious and comfortable with lots of windows and wooden surfaces. Broots' home was as lovely, lived in and welcoming as he was. In the kitchen, a young girl was beginning to prepare dinner. This was Debbie, Broots' daughter. He went to her and gave her a big hug. I stood back and watched from a distance feeling a little awkward.
"Daddy!" She exclaimed. "I thought you'd never get home. I wanted to have dinner with you before Fiona's mum comes to pick me up but it was getting pretty late." She then noticed me. "Oh, hello."
"Hi." I replied, feeling extremely shy all of a sudden. Debbie Broots seemed pleased enough to see me - and was curious as to who I was and what I had to do with her father.
Broots spoke up. "Uh, Debbie, this is Melinda - we work together. I've invited her to have dinner with us, is that okay?"
I really liked the way Broots considered his daughter's opinion to be important. It said a lot about him.
"Sure." She replied and then asked me. "What happened to you?"
I looked down at myself and realised that my clothing was a little torn here and there, and the fabric was crushed - nothing dramatic but enough for Debbie to notice. I didn't know what to say at first and just looked at Broots. He didn't know what to say either.
Finally, I replied. "Oh, I was almost mugged." I elbowed Broots playfully. "Your dad here saved me." Broots blushed.
"Really?" Debbie grinned. Then she asked. "Were you scared?"
Broots opened his mouth to answer but then shut it again as he realised that she was talking to me, not him.
"Yes." I answered. "It was pretty scary. I didn't really want to go home by myself so that's why your dad asked me to have dinner with you guys."
The three of us finished preparing the dinner, chatting about all sorts of things - wonderfully normal things - as we quickly set the table and sat down to eat so that Debbie would be finished dinner in time to go to her friend's place. I felt very relaxed and comfortable - which was a blessing after the shocking afternoon I had just experienced. Debbie liked me and it surprised me just how important that was to me.
After dinner, we heard the honk of a car horn out the front. "That's Fiona's mum, Debbie. Are you ready?" Broots said. "And don't worry I'll do the clearing."
"Thanks, Daddy." She turned to me. "Are you going to be alright going home tonight?"
The question surprised me, the girl was very insightful. "Sure." I replied.
"You know what?" She announced. "You should stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room."
"Debbie!" Broots protested, blushing profusely. I could tell, however, that deep down he was hoping I would say I would stay. He was worried about me being alone. "You're more than welcome to stay. If you want to, I mean."
"Actually," I replied, "I would really appreciate being able to stay here tonight. I don't really feel up to being alone in my apartment right now. Thanks, Debbie."
"No problem!" She grinned delightedly. "I have to go - I hope I see you again soon. Maybe tomorrow if you're still here."
"That would be great." I agreed. What a lovely kid! "Have a fun night."
She smiled, gave Broots a hug goodbye and raced out the door. Once more Broots and I were on our own.
Broots looked at me a moment before saying, "Uh, I'll just go make sure Debbie's room is presentable - clean sheets and all that."
"Okay, I'll clear the table whilst you're doing that."
"Okay."
As I started clearing the plates from the table and taking them to the kitchen, I thought about how nice it was here. It was what I had often thought the concept of 'home' would be like. I smiled and started to hum cheerfully as I cleaned the kitchen. Broots returned and smiled to see me so content.
"You know," he mused, "it's so clear now how you would always steer our conversations away from yourself. Anytime I asked you anything even remotely personal, you would effortlessly get me talking about Debbie, or about my work, and I never really noticed.
I smiled. He was only working this out now?
"Now that I think about it," he continued. "I consider you to be my closest friend and yet, until this afternoon, I didn't know anything about you at all." He sighed sadly.
I touched his arm. "And now, you know nearly everything. Life's pretty weird, huh?"
"Especially where The Centre is involved." He agreed.
The rest of the evening was spent companionably in front of the television. Due to Broots' technical prowess, we were able to access pretty much any channel in the world. I let Broots have control of the remote - that's important to a man. It had certainly always been vital to my lovely computer nerd. He couldn't bear to relinquish control of the remote - he would start to get twitchy if I even touched it.
Broots took me on a tour of all his favourite channels and programs. His interests were certainly many and varied. Even though the internet had always been my preferred way of viewing the world whilst spending those years in hiding, watching tv with Broots was fascinating and fun. He made us popcorn and we laughed and talked for hours.
It was when we were watching a late movie that I got the distinct impression that Broots wanted to hold my hand. Something that simple but he was unable to bring himself to make the move. I felt warm inside and wanted. What a sweet guy.
In so many ways, Broots reminded me of the friend I had left behind - my nerd - but in other ways Broots meant so much more to me. He was special - and not in the scary Centre way in which I had always associated the word.
As I took his hand and his face lit up, I realised that I knew the true meaning of special. This man was unique and extraordinary. I settled back on the couch and looked at our intertwined fingers. Such a simple gesture, holding hands - but one that brought so much comfort. Not just for me but for him as well.
Maybe being here with Broots would be enough to keep my nightmares at bay - those hellish images that had plagued my sleep and tortured my mind for as long as I could remember. Even if only for tonight.
