Disclaimer in part 1

One Step Back
by imagine

Part 4

Miss Parker emerged from the small bathroom, brushing her still damp hair, to find the Pretender had retreated to the curb outside her room. Deep in thought, he was hunched over, his elbows resting heavily on his knees while he stared out at the cars passing on the nearby highway. She stepped through the door and, squinting into the early morning light, followed his line of sight as she crouched beside him. Though she saw nothing of particular interest, she did not turn away from the brightening horizon.

"Bathroom's free, if you're interested."

He nodded, but said nothing.

"He's going to be here soon," she said, looking at her watch. "Within the hour."

Almost a full minute of silence passed between them before he turned his gaze on her. His hands hung between his open legs, clenching each other tightly and though the muscles in his jaw were tight, his lips were parted slightly. But, what concerned her the most was the fact that his eyes never met hers. Instead, they danced across her face as if they were searching for answers to questions he hadn't voiced.

"I didn't mean to intrude," she apologized, rising to her feet. "I'll be inside, if you need me."

"Do you really think it is possible that Jay . . . Jon is returning to the Centre because I have neglected him?"

Facing him, she shrugged and answered, "I honestly don't know but, in the grand scheme of things, what I think is unimportant. We have to concentrate on what he's thinking."

His attention back on the horizon, Jarod nodded. "Easier said than done."

Jarod wiped his face with both hands then pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. A few seconds later, he raked his fingers through his hair and dropped both hands to his lap. She watched him fidget tiredly on the curb for a few moments thinking his movements were unsure and seemed self-conscious.

"I can't sim him. I've tried," he murmured.

She frowned. "You don't need to run a simulation, Jarod. All you need to do is follow your instincts."

"You heard him last night. He doesn't want me here. What if my presence makes things worse? What if it makes him more determined to go back?"

"I never realized you were a 'glass is half empty' kind of guy. Have you considered that you being here might convince him to stay on the outside?"

He shook his head. "It's highly doubtful."

"You told me, earlier, that no one had heard from him in three months and that you were worried."

He looked at the brunette and, though there was no question, he nodded in agreement.

"Then tell him you were worried. It could make a difference."

Releasing a small, sardonic laugh, Jarod shook his head. "He wouldn't believe me."

Jarod stood abruptly and took a few steps away, keeping his back to the woman. Though her first instinct was to force him to face her, Miss Parker did not approach the man. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the building.

"You know, " she said, "there is a distinct possibility that neither your presence, nor mine, is going to make one bit of difference to him." Her eyes darted to where he stood. Though his back was still to her, she saw his head shift to the side as if he were waiting for her to continue. Turning her eyes back to the sky, she obliged. "The real question, Jarod, is, will being with him for the next few days, and trying to change his mind, make a difference to you?"

"It's too late," he whispered, shaking his head. "It's too late for me to make everything right."

"Regardless of what you've believed all these years, Jarod, you are human. You do not have the ability to make everything right for everyone," she snapped. Pushing away from the wall, she let her arms drop to her side and moved behind him. "Besides, that's not what I asked you."

"You don't understand." He faced her, his eyes mirroring the tired tone of his voice. "Everything you accused me of is true. I did abandon the boy."

"Jon," she corrected, "is hardly a boy anymore."

Glaring at her, he crossed his arms but lowered his eyes as he began to speak. "I left him with my father because I knew he would provide the love and security the boy ... Jon needed."

"No one is disputing that the Major and Emily . . ."

"Then, without even realizing I was doing it, I started making excuses for visiting. My trips home became more infrequent," he continued, talking over her interruption as he shifted from one foot to the other, "and my phone calls were made at times when he was at school."

She didn't need to see his face to know the confession was hard for him. His voice was gravelly and several of his words broke in mid-syllable but, despite the overwhelming urge to offer comfort, she was silent.

"Like you said, I was avoiding him. I told myself that the awkwardness between us was because he was unsure of his role in our family. But it wasn't Jon who was feeling out of place during our visits - it was me. And, the longer I stayed away, the worse it became."

Though she wasn't startled by his admission, Miss Parker had no idea how to react to what Jarod was telling her. In all the years she'd known him, this was the first time she had seen his insecurities about his family. The realization that he had managed to hide them from her was a surprise because she had always believed she knew him better than anyone, even Sydney.

"When I found out he left home, I wasn't overly concerned. I told my father not to worry, that Jay ... Jon could take care of himself."

"And he can."

He sighed. "I know but, after seven months, the words begin to sound hollow."

"Seven months?" she repeated, her eyes widening. "You told me he'd been gone three months."

"I told you we hadn't heard from him in three months."

"So, he left home in December, not March?"

"December third, to be exact. My father went into his room at around 8:30, thinking Jay had overslept, and discovered he was missing."

"He, naturally, assumed that the Centre was responsible."

Jarod nodded slightly but kept his gaze on the rising sun. "A few hours later, though, Jay called and said he left because he needed to explore the world on his own. He wanted to go to college, to get a job, to have a normal life."

"He was spreading his wings, finding out who he was. That's not a bad thing."

"That's what I said," he sighed. "And, every Wednesday, for four months, Jon called home to speak with my father and Emily. When they still weren't convinced he was safe, I decided to ease their minds. I made three different attempts to trace the calls. I wanted to find him, to talk him into coming home - even for just a few days."

"You never told me that," she murmured. "What happened?"

"The phone calls were all dead-ends."

"You couldn't trace them?"

"I hate to burst your bubble but I did trace them," he answered, shooting her a quick smile over his shoulder. "Each one originated from different university."

"So how does that qualify as a dead end?"

"By the time I got to the campuses, there was no sign of him and no one I spoke with would admit knowing him," he explained. Then, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he added, "I still don't know if he was actually traveling from school to school, and I was missing him; or, if he was somewhere else, bouncing the signal between multiple satellites and central offices."

"Gee, where have I heard that scenario before?" she asked, crooking her eyebrow.

For a moment, Jarod's voice mirrored the proud smile that graced his face. The havoc he had wreaked on her calling card by forwarding one of his calls through more than a dozen locations, international as well as domestic, was one of his finest moments. Seconds later, however, his expression faded and he turned away.

"When did he stop calling?" she asked, quietly.

"The last message he left was on March 7th."

"He didn't talk to anyone?"

Jarod shook his head. "No one was home. They weren't expecting the call because it wasn't a Wednesday. It was Monday."

"What did he say?"

"That he was happier than he had ever been and that he would tell us more, when the time was right. He promised it would be soon and he promised it was good news. He never called back."

Remembering the late night phone call she'd received from Jarod, in mid March, she sighed and leaned against the brick wall of the motel.

"I thought we were on the same side, when it came to him, Parker. How could you let them take him?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jay. He's gone," Jarod growled.

"And you think I had something to do with it?"

"I think the Centre had something to do with it," he growled. "God help you, if I find out you were involved."

There was no denying the fear and anger she'd heard in his voice but finding out that the younger man was missing had been a shock for her. By the time she'd come to her senses enough to ask a question, the Pretender had disconnected the call. The next morning, she ordered Broots do a thorough search of Centre records. If the boy was a prisoner, she was determined to find him. When the investigation came up empty, it had left her with a sense of helplessness and guilt she hadn't felt since Thomas' death.

"The more time that passed, without hearing from him, the more anxious we all became. I was sure that the Centre had found him and . . ." Letting his words fade, Jarod shook his head and took a few steps beyond the open motel room door.

"When he called me, two weeks ago, it was his first contact in three months."

Jarod nodded.

"And you still don't know whether you should be relieved or concerned, because he called me and not a family member."

Sighing heavily, Jarod glanced at her and retreated into the empty room. "Something like that."

Leaving her turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined. Abby's emotions had been so raw and desperate that, even though he was confident what he was doing was right, he felt an enormous sense of guilt. His leaving was creating more stress than she should have to deal with and, ironically, putting her in almost as much risk as if he had stayed.

By the time he left the apartment and slid into the waiting taxi, he was emotionally drained and experiencing the worst case of self-doubt he had ever known.

"The bus station, please," he said to the driver.

Looking up at the building, through the back window of the car as it drove away, he stared at the second window from the right, on the third floor. He saw the curtains shift, and Abby's hesitant wave, as the taxi turned out of the driveway. Somehow, it made him feel worse.

With a heavy sigh, he turned forward in his seat and pulled out his cell phone. He stared at the photo he had taken the week before and slowly outlined her face with his finger. The only thing he could hope for was that she would do as he asked and return to her parents home in Colorado. They would take care of her.

"I won't be gone long," he promised, softly. "And, when I get back, I will never leave again."

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he wiped his eyes and released another heavy breath. As difficult as it was to leave her alone, he trusted that Abby would do whatever was necessary to protect their family. In turn, he hoped that she trusted him to do the same.

"So, where are you headed?" the cabbie asked, breaking the silence.

Using the rear view mirror to make eye contact with the man, he forced a smile and replied, "The East coast."

"Is that home?"

"It's where I grew up," he answered, hoping the man wouldn't push the issue.

Nodding knowingly, the driver turned his attention back on the road. "Sentimental journey, huh?"

"Not quite," he replied, shifting his eyes to the window on his left. "I'm going back to take care of some family business."

Knowing she was watching, Jarod collected his things and disappeared into the bathroom. He had never intended to admit the things he had and it unnerved him to realize how easy it had been. She had listened, without judgement, without snide remarks and, most importantly, without pity. Unburdening to her had, for the most part, felt good. Unfortunately, in the process of sharing a piece of himself he had been determined to keep hidden, Jarod had a gnawing sense that he had failed.

"Where do we go from here?" he whispered, staring at himself in the mirror.

Shaking his head, he undressed quickly and stepped into the shower. The water was hot and steam quickly filled the small room as he considered his options where Jay and Miss Parker were concerned. When he stepped out of the pulsing stream of water and wrapped a dingy white towel around his waist, Jarod had made preliminary decisions.

By the time he finished shaving and dressed, he had convinced himself that following her advice was the best course of action. He would follow his instincts and hope for the best.

Gathering his things, he stepped from the bathroom to find Miss Parker sitting on the bed. Studying the road atlas he'd left open on the desk, she was reviewing the directions he'd mapped out, she looked up as he walked passed her.

"These are incomplete," she said, holding up the piece of lined paper he'd used to write out their course. "The directions stop in Maryland."

He nodded as he pushed his belongings into the soft-sided suitcase he had left by the front door.

"Why?"

"Because I don't intend to let any of us get any closer to Blue Cove than the Maryland/Delaware border."

"You know, Jon may have other ideas."

Facing her, he swung the bag over his shoulder. "Then, I guess it's up to us to convince him we know better."

He purchased a one-way ticket for the 9 a.m. bus to Savannah, Georgia, using the name Jon Charles. Despite what he told Jarod and Miss Parker, and the fact that he'd changed his last name several times in the last seven months, he liked the name Jay. It was the name he'd chosen and carefully guarded, for six years, and it was the name he had every intention of reclaiming.

The identity was one he had created three months before, after his decision to return to Blue Cove. He hoped that by building a history for his alter ego that would attract the attention of the Centre, and then keeping him on the move, Abby would be safe. So far, it had worked.

After spending almost forty minutes making meaningless conversation with waiting passengers, as well as employees, he slipped into the Men's room.

When he emerged, he had replaced the ripped jeans, black jacket and AC/DC T-shirt with khaki's and a dark blue polo shirt. His hair was no longer covered by an Atlanta Braves baseball cap and he was clean shaven. The identification tags on his backpack now held a fictitious name and address, as well as the markings of Chicago's Greyhound terminal. Though no one seemed to take notice of him, he slipped a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes and started across the station.

A few minutes later, a young man of Jon's approximate height exited the Men's room wearing the AC/DC T-shirt and Braves cap. Though, at a distance, the actor and he resembled each other, he knew that, up close, was a different story. For that reason, he had to be the one to purchase the ticket and make himself seen in the station. Shooting the man a quick look, over his shoulder, Jon nodded and stepped through the exit, into a waiting taxi.

The woman behind the wheel glanced at him and put the vehicle in gear without asking his destination.

"The Francis Motel," he said. "Route 2."

She nodded and looked at him in the rear view mirror. "Really? Hmph. I haven't taken anyone there in a long time. I mean, it's clean and all. It's just not exactly the Motel 6."

When he responded with a shy smile and a nod, the woman continued, "Don't get me wrong," she said, steering the vehicle onto the highway, "a fare is a fare. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. You just don't look like the kind of kid that would be staying at a dump like that."

"It's not a problem," he assured her, looking out the side window. "I've stayed in worse."

"I guess that's everything," she said, slamming the trunk of the car closed. "All we need is Jon."

Jarod retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and started toward the office. "I'll get some bottles of water. We don't need anything else if we want to drag this road trip out as long as possible. We want to stop frequently."

She watched him move down the cracked sidewalk until he was at the small alcove that housed the vending machines. Something had changed while he was in the shower. There was no indication that he was ever concerned about how Jon was going to react to his presence. In addition, Jarod no longer seemed to be obsessing about the relationship or, rather, lack of one, he had with his younger self.

It amazed her that he could gain control of his emotions so quickly and, not only hide them from the rest of the world, but hide them from himself, as well.

Sydney trained him well, she thought solemnly, the Centre would be proud.

He paid the driver before the taxi had come to a complete stop in front of the Motel office and pulled on the door handle. The woman turned in her seat and held up the money, her face etched with confusion.

"Hey, Kid, wait. You forgot your change."

"Keep it," he smiled, slamming the door.

She looked down at the fifty dollar bill then, with a shrug and a smile, pushed the gear shift into drive. A forty-two dollar tip and it was barely 8 o'clock in the morning. This was going to be a good day.

Hiking the backpack over his shoulder, he turned away from the driveway and started down the cracked sidewalk that led to Miss Parker's room. He could see the woman leaning against the hood of her car, her hands resting on her lap. When they made eye contact, she stood and stepped to the middle of the sidewalk, her eyes darting around him and her arms automatically crossing in front of her.

There was no doubt in his mind that the only reason the brunette had agreed to take him back to Blue Cove was because she was curious and, maybe, worried about his motives. He hoped that, by the time they reached the Centre, she would understand how important it was to him that he return. And, in turn, he hoped she would stop worrying. He was no longer fourteen - he could handle what needed to be done, on his own.

As he continued toward her, he was distracted by a noise to his left. Curious, he took a step back and glanced at Miss Parker. Immediately, her arms fell to her side but she did not make a move toward him. When he heard the noise, a second time, he took a deep breath and peered around the corner. Without hesitation, he took another step back and released a mild obscenity as Jarod turned away from the vending machine, two bottles of water in each hand.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Jarod looked down at the bottles in his hand, then met the younger man's gaze. "I thought we might get thirsty," he said, innocently.

His eyes narrowed and the grip on his backpack tightened.

"Parker is waiting at the car," Jarod continued, moving past him. "She insists on taking the first shift behind the wheel. I'll take the next shift, if that's okay with you."

"You are not supposed to be here," he growled, following Jarod to the car. Turning on Miss Parker, he added, "You lied to me. Again."

"I did no such thing," she snapped, advancing on the boy. "We never discussed Jarod or the fact that you wanted this trip to be just the two of us."

"It was implied."

"Only if it's understood by both parties," she replied, crossing her arms. "This car is leaving, headed East, in exactly five minutes. So, what's it going to be? Are you coming with us, or are you going to call Raines to come pick you up? Because, without me, I can guarantee that he's the only other way you're stepping foot in Delaware. Whether or not he takes you to the Centre, however, is up to him. I understand he likes keeping his charges hidden away."

His eyes darted between Miss Parker and Jarod, as the man stepped to the passenger side of the car. With his arms folded on the roof, he smiled at the younger man and tilted his head. "It's your call, Jon."

"I could call Lyle."

Miss Parker sighed and shook her head. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a cell phone. "Would you like me to dial his number for you?"

"Think about what you're doing," Jarod said calmly, pushing away from the car. "I admit, it would be for you to call Lyle, or Raines, or anyone else at that place. But, if you'd wanted them to escort you back, you would have called them two weeks ago. Instead, you called Parker."

"I had my reasons."

"Of course you did," the older man replied. "The question is, are those reasons any less important, now that I'm part of the package?"

He shifted his gaze from Jarod to Miss Parker. Still holding the cell phone, the woman met his eyes and lifted one eyebrow, silently daring him to make a decision. In the seconds that passed, he carefully considered his plan and, convincing himself that Jarod's presence would not make a difference, reluctantly stepped to the car and pulled open the rear passenger seat.

TBC

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