Disclaimer in part 1

One Step Back
by imagine

Part 5?

"Is he asleep?"

Jarod glanced at their passenger before shaking his head and facing the road. "He's concentrating on something, very deeply, though. He appears to have blocked out all outside distractions, including us."

"Is that good?"

"That depends what he is concentrating on," he answered, glancing once more at the young man in the backseat. "I wish I knew what it was."

"And I wish he would take those damn earplugs out and say something," she muttered.

"I know it's difficult but you and I need to be patient, Miss Parker," the Pretender replied softly. "We have a long ride ahead of us."

"Only if things change. I'm telling you now, if he doesn't open up soon, I'll leave him on the side of the road."

Jarod laughed. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Damn straight."

"Well, I don't think it will come to that," he smiled, settling back in his seat. "Jon obviously has something on his mind. The longer he keeps it to himself, the harder it will be to do so. Before long, the silence will get to him."

"You sound sure."

"I am."

She glanced in the rear view mirror, the raised an eyebrow and looked at the man sitting beside her.

"Because it would get to me," he said, answering her unspoken question.

With one hand tightly gripping the steering wheel, Miss Parker frowned and leaned back in her seat. Jarod watched her, his smile fading as her eyes flicked between the road and the rear view mirror. Her mind and eyes were suddenly more focused on Jon than they were her driving.

"Maybe we should pull over," he suggested, pointing to a sign on the side of the road. "There's a rest area at the next exit. We can fill up the tank, stretch our legs and get some lunch."

Absently, the woman dropped her eyes to the gas gauge and nodded.

In the three-and-a-half hours that passed, he said very little. With his long legs sprawled across the back seat, Jon kept his eyes closed, his arms folded across his chest and the volume on his iPod high. When Jarod asked what he was listening to, Jon ignored him. When the man continued talking, babbling about the music he liked, Jon squeezed his eyes tighter and turned his head toward the back of his seat. The last thing he wanted was to get drawn in to a normal conversation, no matter how brief, with his older self. Innocent topics, such as music, would open the door to other topics and, the longer they talked, the greater the possibility that they would form a hesitant camaraderie. Jon had no intention of letting that happen.

Despite his refusal to answer the question aloud, though, Jon found himself deciding that his favorite styles were rock and jazz. Over the years, he had developed an eclectic collection that included classical, swing, country, blues and heavy metal. Artists, such as the Ramones, Frank Sinatra, the Jayhawks, John Mellencamp, Miles Davis and AC/DC, were a lifeline for him. When he became overwhelmed by his new life, or paralyzed by the past, music had the ability to calm him in a way that no one, except Abby, had ever been able to do.

While under the influence, Jon found, he had the confidence to wander, safely, into memories of Donoterase, the Centre and Mr. Raines. Initially, his intent was an analytical approach to his memories, hoping they would provide answers and keep the nightmares at bay. He told himself that the visits to the past were therapeutic and ignored the fact they were unsupervised. In his mind, the songs were his chaperones. They kept him grounded. They kept him from losing himself in the nightmares by reminding him he was no longer the boy who was dependent on Mr. Raines. Their sounds calmed him, and impressed upon him that the fear and pain of his childhood had been replaced with people who loved and respected him.

After a few sessions, Jon quickly realized his self-induced therapy had other advantages and, before long, they became more about protecting Abby, his family, and their future than it did about exiling nightmares. By viewing the events of his life, from a safe distance, he discovered details about his captors that had previously escaped him. When he combined those details with the information that had been shared with him, over time, by the Major and Ethan, Jon's memories suddenly seemed more powerful than he ever imagined. Within months, they led him to where he was - a passenger in Miss Parker's car, on his way back to the Centre.

Now that the first leg of his plan was underway, Jon was beginning to suffer from self doubt. Things had not gone exactly the way he had envisioned. He had not considered the fact Miss Parker might contact Jarod, or that the two would be willing to work together. Having his older self involved in his plan complicated things and, though he was still confident he could manage, Jon was beginning to wonder if Jarod's relationship with Miss Parker was the only thing he had underestimated.

Sitting in the backseat of the car, he forced himself to search his memories for the details he'd uncovered months before. He needed to reassure himself that they were real. He needed to convince himself the details that had spawned his plan weren't figments of his imagination, blank spaces haphazardly filled in by his subconscious. If they were, then his return to the Centre had the potential of endangering everyone he loved.

The car began to slow and, when it veered subtly to the right, he knew they were making a stop. Opening his eyes just enough to read the display on his watch, Jon sighed and tugged lightly at his earphones.

"After we fill up the gas tank, we are going to get some lunch," Jarod said, though the young man had not asked for an explanation.

Refusing to make eye contact with the Pretender, Jon pulled his backpack to his lap and began rummaging through the outside pocket. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure? It's my treat and they have soft-serve ice cream. This might be one of the last times you get to have fast food. Once you're back at the Centre, you will be eating nothing but nutritional supplements and . . ."

"I said, I'm not hungry," the young man hissed, finally looking up. "What part of that did you not understand?"

Despite the anger that filled the young man's dark eyes, Jarod met them with a stare that was steady and piercing. Neither man said a word until the car came to a complete stop. Then, before either Miss Parker or Jarod could react, Jon was out of the car and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes," he announced, as he slammed the door.

Without looking back, the young man crossed the parking lot and followed the sidewalk to the far side of the restaurant.

"You were never this obstinate at that age," Miss Parker grumbled, when he was out of sight. "Why the hell is he?"

"I think Sydney might disagree with you about that fact. I definitely had my moments," Jarod answered.

"You may have had temper tantrums but I don't remember you ever acting like this," she countered.

Moving slowly out of the car, Jarod hesitated. Without facing her, he said, in a quiet voice, "You didn't know me at that age, Miss Parker. You were away."

Startled by the words, and the realization he was right, Miss Parker did not move from the driver's seat. She watched Jarod slide from the car then turned her eyes to watch him through the rear view mirror. He took the gas nozzle from the pump and slid it into the car's tank and, though he did not look up, his expression had softened considerably. Her insides twisted with guilt and, silently, she chastised herself for her mistake. She had reminded him of the almost twenty-year gap in their relationship. Not only had it changed them from close friends to huntress and prey, the period of time had left him feeling abandoned and betrayed.

"It's not like I expected him to spill his guts in the first five minutes of the trip," she said, finally emerging from the car, "but I thought we'd have some kind of conversation by now. If he doesn't take those damned earphones out soon, so help me, I'm going to rip them out myself."

"If it's any consolation," he answered, seemingly unfazed by the change in subject, "I don't think things are going the way he planned, either."

"Well, if he really wants to go back to that hell hole, maybe we should let him," she said, staring at the restaurant. "He's over eighteen and a genius. Who are we to question is judgement?"

"I know you don't mean that," he smiled, moving to her side. "You're just tired and frustrated."

When she didn't respond, Jarod frowned and slid his hand around the woman's arm. Turning her so that they were eye to eye, he said, "Trust me, Parker. Jon will come around. He's just flexing some muscle right now, trying to prove he's in control of the situation."

"As opposed to who? He's been calling the shots all along."

"I doubt he sees it that way," Jarod sighed.

Raising one eyebrow, she stared at him. "What does that mean?"

Shaking his head, Jarod let his hand slide from her arm and then moved to the back of the car. "He doesn't want me here. He wanted to be alone with you, remember?"

Drawing her eyes away from Jarod as he removed the nozzle from the gas tank and slipped it back in its cradle, Miss Parker looked across the parking lot. "So, do you think that's why he's been so tight lipped?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense."

Sitting cross legged on the grass, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He stared at the photo of Abby for a long minute, his thumb hovering over the key that would dial her number. The urge to call was so strong that he did not care that Abby was currently taking her Final Exam in Psychology, and would not be able to answer the phone. He wanted to hear her voice, even if it was only a recording on her voice mail message.

"Having trouble finding a signal?"

He looked up to find Miss Parker standing behind him, with a bottle of water in her hand. Shaking his head, he turned away and slid the phone into his pocket. As disappointed and annoyed as he was about being interrupted, there was a part of him that was grateful that she stopped him from making the call. He had promised Abby one call a day for as long as it was possible. If he had wasted that call on a voice mail message, just to relieve his own anxieties, she would never forgive him.

"If you need to make a call, you can use my phone," she offered.

He raised an eyebrow and glared at the woman standing over him. "Thanks, but I'd rather my friends were not used against me."

When he refused to take the bottle of water she held out to him, Miss Parker tossed it into his lap and lowered herself to the grass beside him. "Now, why would I do that? In case you've forgotten, I'm against you going back. In fact, I plan on making it very difficult for you in the coming days."

He lowered his head and stared at the condensation on the bottle, but said nothing.

"I made the offer because I thought you needed to talk to someone," she continued, though the young man was not facing her. "You sure as hell aren't doing much of it with me or Jarod."

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his iPod. As he began unwrapping the wires that led to the ear plugs, she put her hand over his, stopping the action.

"Not so fast," she said, squeezing his hand, "I came here to talk. That means you're going to listen and, when appropriate, you're going to respond. Understood?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I'll take that as a yes," she sighed. Slowly sliding her hand away from his, she asked, "Exactly how long are you planning on continuing this silent treatment?"

"How long is Jarod going to be traveling with us?"

"I see. Jarod thought his presence was the reason you hadn't spoken," she nodded. "I guess he was right."

"It's been known to happen."

She hesitated a moment, following his line of vision to where a young woman was trying to comfort a baby. With its head nestled on her neck, the child appeared to be sleeping until it shifted and let out a short whimper. Immediately, the woman began patting its back and whispering something only the child could hear.

"Jarod isn't here, now," she pointed out, facing him again. "It's just the two of us."

Slowly, Jon met her gaze, his eyes narrowing. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," she replied, gesturing around them with her arms. "You don't see him, do you?"

"And, you'll swear that anything I tell you stays between us. Is that right?"

"Of course."

"Just like you swore you wouldn't tell him about the telephone call. Just like you swore you were alone at the motel, when I arrived." Shaking his head, he looked back at the young mother. "You'll forgive me, Miss Parker, if I don't quite trust you."

"I see. So, you would rather arrive at the Centre, without ever telling me you reasons for going back."

He laughed, but did not face her. "Jarod will be gone before we get to the Centre. You and I both know that the closer we get, the more anxious he gets."

"He's a smart man."

Jon's smile faded but he did not respond. Instead, he continued watching the strangers in field in front of them. Beyond the woman were three older children, ranging from about eight to twelve, playing an energetic game of catch. Each using leather mitts, they tossed a baseball in rapid succession and, as Miss Parker watched, the oldest boy instinctively dove to his left. Snatching the ball out of midair, before it crossed the path of the mother and baby, the boy angrily flung the ball at his brother, yelling for the younger child to be more careful.

Miss Parker turned back toward Jon as she heard the younger boy yell he was sorry, hoping to continue the strained conversation. Surprised, she looked up and found that the young man was on his feet. His eyes wide, they darted between the young mother and the boys for a moment then, releasing a breath took a step back. Realizing he was being watched, he glanced at Miss Parker and returned to his spot in the grass.

When he was seated, Jon glared at the woman for a moment before facing forward again. "What do you want from me, Miss Parker?" he snapped. "Did you come out here just to pick an argument?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the young woman and her baby. Though the child seemed to have quieted, the mother appeared to be exhausted and, for a split second, Miss Parker knew exactly how she felt.

"I want him gone." His voice took on the same deep, gravelly tone she had heard the day before and his expression hardened as he spoke. "I don't care where he goes or what he does when he gets there, but I just don't want him here. Do you understand? The longer he's around, the less time you and I have to discuss my plans."

"I see," she said, as he turned his eyes back on the young mother. "Have you considered the fact that Jarod may be tagging along because he plans on going back with you?"

Jon stared at her. "He's not."

"Are you sure about that?" she dared. "In case you haven't noticed, he feels he has an obligation from keeping people from getting hurt. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that, despite the fact you're going back voluntarily, within minutes of stepping into the Centre, you're going to get hurt."

Rising to her feet, she took a step toward the restaurant, then stopped and faced him again. The boy's eyes had shifted back to the young mother but, even from where she stood, Miss Parker could see he was considering the possibilities of what she had suggested.

"Then tell him to go," he said softly. Looking up at her, Jon's expression was no longer harsh and combatant. "I mean it, Miss Parker. If Jarod wants to keep people from getting hurt, he needs to stay out of this. It's my fight."

"Why?" she pressed, crouching beside him. "What is this great plan of yours?"

Shaking his head, Jon turned back to watch the boys playing catch. "Just tell him to go."

"What do you have for me?"

"He was spotted at the bus station in Phoenix," the man replied. Holding out the disc, he waited until the other man inserted it into the electronic reader before continuing, "He bought a one-way ticket for Savannah. The bus is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow."

"And, I assume, the recovery team is now on their way to Georgia," he said, watching as the young man on the screen laughed with the woman at the ticket counter. Frowning, he leaned closer to the image long enough to convince himself of the boy's identity, then sat back in the chair.

"Yes, Sir."

"What about Lyle?"

"He and his team are still in Phoenix. They're hoping to find out more about where the boy was staying and what he was doing."

The man nodded and leaned back in the leather desk chair. "Good. The more we know, the easier it will be to capture and control him. Keep me posted."

"So, how did it go?"

"About as well as can be expected," she sighed, sliding into the booth. "You were right. Your being here has thrown him for a loop."

Jarod smiled and popped a french fry in his mouth. "I don't think those were my exact words."

"Maybe not, but the translation was right, wasn't it?"

Nodding, he watched her sip at her drink. When she stared out the window, he asked, "What did he say?"

"What we expected," she answered, facing him. "He wants you gone, and he's serious. He has no intention of revealing any of his plan while you're around."

He smiled sadly and nodded again. "Then, maybe it's time I go."

She shook her head. "Not yet. Give it until tomorrow."

"Why? You don't think he's going to have a change of heart, do you?"

"Probably not," Miss Parker admitted, reaching for her sandwich. "However, I do think that, after one more conversation with him, I might be able to figure out where you should go."

TBC

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