Resolutions - 4
Night Voices
by MMB
Jarod put down his fork and picked up the telephone handset. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's me. We're home." Miss Parker's voice sounded tired.
He dropped the microphone away from his chin and looked over at the others at the table. "It's Mommy. They're home - and safe." Ginger's eyes brightened slightly and she smiled while Margaret patted her little granddaughter's hand. He brought the phone back up. "How was the trip?"
"Long," she said with a sigh, "Deb and I finally talked a bit and set our boundaries."
"I'm glad to hear that. How's Davy doing?"
That brought a chuckle. "He complained that it was 'too early' to go to bed, but I got him down a few minutes ago." She dropped her overnight bag into a chair next to her bedroom window and sat down on the edge of her bed. "And I'm just about to cave in myself. I'm not looking forward to starting a busy day tomorrow with a mammoth case of jet-lag."
He chuckled back. "Sprite and I agree that the house is just a little bit too quiet now that you two are gone, don't we?" He watched his little girl nod up and down vigorously. "Trust me, she agrees."
"I miss you two too," Miss Parker sighed back. "Now, how soon was that court date Crandall called about last night?"
"Two weeks," Jarod said firmly. "It's going to be a damned long two weeks..."
"How about the two prospects you and Ethan were thinking about?"
"I called both of them this afternoon," he told her in a tone of satisfaction. "They'll be in for interviews at the end of the week. Hopefully by this time next week, we'll know who is going to take my place and can start easing him into my schedule. That way we can head home as soon as the adoption is final." He paused and popped a quick bite of casserole in his mouth. "What about you? Have you talked to Tyler yet? Did the Centre fall in while you were gone?"
"I called him from Sydney's. He said things have been 'interesting'..." Jarod could just hear the dry humor that would have been in Tyler's voice saying such a thing. "Sam and I are meeting with him and Sam's assistant in the morning to discuss the developments."
"Speaking of whom, how IS Sydney?" Jarod asked quickly. "How's that leg of his?"
"Well," Miss Parker said with a grunt as she shed her blouse with one hand while still holding the phone with the other, switching hands in mid-comment, "he met us at the front door when we got home, and he was vertical at least."
"That's good to hear. On crutches, right?"
"Mmm-hmmm. I was glad, too - because Kevin gave Deb a hug she wasn't ready for and really knocked her for a loop. Once she made it to Sydney, she wouldn't leave his side - she glued herself to him and didn't stray an inch."
"Oh boy," Jarod grimaced. "I need to call him tomorrow, don't I?"
"Yeah," she hedged. "Jarod, there was something else - and with everything that was going on while I was there, I didn't tell you... But you need to know..."
"What?"
"I found out that Sydney's been playing some kind of 'game' with Davy - they both call it 'mind games.' You don't think..."
The Pretender sat back in his chair, cradling the telephone against his ear. "What kind of 'mind games?'"
She shook her head. "About all I could get out of Sydney on the phone this morning when I asked him about it was that they were 'what if' games..."
"SIMs." Jarod said the word dully. "Sydney had Davy doing SIMs?"
Across the table, Margaret had gone slightly pale. "Oh my God!" she muttered under her breath.
"He wouldn't have been training our son as a Pretender... would he?" Miss Parker worried at him.
Jarod's mind whirled. He knew that Sydney loved that child dearly and would never do anything that wasn't ultimately in Davy's best interest. He also knew that Sydney had been trained to see the signs of genius in children and develop it effectively. "I wouldn't be in too much of a rush to condemn him yet, Missy," he soothed uneasily. "If Sydney was having Davy run SIMs, there has to be a good reason for it. Give him a chance to explain..." He found himself having to put on a convincing face for his mother too, who was glaring at him in disbelief.
"But why wouldn't he have said anything to me about it?"
That was the question for which Jarod had no ready answer. "I'm sure he must have thought he had a good reason," he said, knowing how inadequate that sounded, even to himself.
"There were a lot of things over the years that he thought he had a good reason to keep from me," Miss Parker said sourly. "But I thought we'd gotten past all of that years ago."
"Don't create problems for the two of you out of nothing, Missy," Jarod advised carefully. "He loves you, and he loves Davy - more, I think, than he loves life itself. Besides, he raised me, remember? He didn't do all that badly by me, did he?"
"No..." She had to admit that even in the worst of scenarios, Sydney had not failed as a decent role model for Jarod. Heck, when he'd announced that he was stepping into a parental role with her after her accident years ago, she'd felt a rush of gratitude because she KNEW he was far better father material than the man who'd always claimed her as his daughter ever had been. Other than a frighteningly lethal soft-spoken fury that was to be avoided at all costs, he was patient and kind and constantly keeping an eye on her welfare. "He's been a good father for me too, these last few years. And," she felt obliged to report, "according to Deb, Davy's ability to use his mind creatively was the key to their getting away and getting rescued before..."
Jarod nodded. That also explained some of Davy's difficulty in relinquishing responsibility when he felt his actions were the cause of consequences. "Then give him the benefit of the doubt," he told her firmly. "Let him explain himself fully. If nothing else, no matter how hard it is to swallow, he will have done us all a favor by giving Davy the tools to see him through this nightmare and come out alive."
"I intend to at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt," she said, then held the phone away from her ear long enough to slip her nightgown over her head and let it fall into position on her shoulders. "I just wanted to let you know..."
"I appreciate that," Jarod said gently. "This was something we both needed to be aware of. And I want you to CALL me and tell me what he had to say for himself - or else tell him that I want to talk to him about it too. But right now you're sounding awfully tired, sweetheart. You want to say goodnight to Ginger before you go to bed?"
Miss Parker smiled. "Sure. Give her the phone."
Jarod held the phone out to the little girl around the corner of the table. "Mommy wants to talk to you. Here she is," he announced loudly enough so that Missy could hear him on the other end.
"Hi, Sprite," Miss Parker said softly into the phone, bringing a picture of her new daughter to the forefront of her mind. "Did you have a good day?"
Ginger nodded vigorously. "That's a yes," Jarod announced so Miss Parker could know she got a response.
"Are you and Teddy taking good care of Daddy for me?"
Ginger's eyes found her teddy where she'd carefully put it, propped in one of the other kitchen chairs at the table with them, and she nodded seriously. "That's another affirmative," Jarod called out.
"Then you have a good night, baby girl. I love you, you know..." Miss Parker found it not at all hard to say the words and wondered why she hadn't said them in California, directly to her new daughter, while she'd had the chance.
The little girl cuddled the phone into her ear and her eyes grew wide. It was one thing to hear Him tell her He loved her, or even Grandma Maggie, but now SHE was doing it too! Ginger's jaw dropped a bit and her gaze flitted to touch His.
Jarod watched the child's reaction to whatever it was that Miss Parker must have said to her with interest. Whatever it had been, it had touched something deep inside her, because all of a sudden the lips were opening and closing slowly, as if Ginger wanted to say something back. When he put his hand out for the telephone, she handed it to him almost in a daze. "Whatever you just told her," he told the woman on the other end, "it made quite an impression."
"I just told her I loved her and said goodnight," Miss Parker explained with a bump of astonishment and chagrin.
Ginger got out of her chair and then climbed up into His lap and cuddled down as she felt an arm surround her gently. Jarod kissed his little girl on the top of the head. "I think you have another fan here," he told Miss Parker softly, "and I think she misses you - a lot more than she'd expected to."
"Two weeks, huh?" Miss Parker ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. "You're right, it IS going to be a damned long two weeks."
"I love you," Jarod said gently.
"I love you too," she answered equally softly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Sweet dreams, Missy."
"Goodnight, Jarod."
Jarod put the handset back down on the table and wrapped his other arm around the child in his lap. "I miss Mommy," he said to her softly. "Don't you?"
Ginger had never thought she would have agreed with a statement like that, but now... She nodded and cuddled closer to Him.
"Sydney was training Davy as a Pretender?"
Jarod closed his eyes tiredly. "We don't know all the facts yet, Mom. Let's not jump to conclusions."
"You know..."
"No, I don't know." He gazed evenly at her over the top of Ginger's head. "Sydney loves Miss Parker and Davy very much. He'd never do anything to deliberately hurt either of them - and he knows the Centre well enough that he'd never let Davy be caught up in the mess that it was before... I'm going to wait to hear what he has to say before I decide whether to be angry or not. I owe him at least that much."
"I don't trust him," Margaret said stubbornly, stabbing her green beans with her fork in frustration. "He's been a Centre lackey for too long."
Jarod cradled his daughter just a little tighter against him. A part of him could understand his mother's and his fiancée's suspicious natures, and another part of him could almost understand Sydney's intentions. What were you doing, Sydney? Jarod projected his question at the mental image of his mentor in frustration. Just what the Hell did you think you were doing?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The back window was lowered. "So, what news?" came the gruff voice from the back seat.
General Curtis slipped into the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked near the Lincoln Memorial. "Colonel Stiller has made contact with the first of our targeted scientists within the Centre and is supposed to call her tomorrow night to get her answer on whether or not she's willing to restart Veracity. But he's not managed to do much more than that..."
"I told you that there would be drawbacks to keeping our organization this loose," Senator Burns snapped at the man sitting next to him. "Damn it, Curtis..."
"Look," General Curtis bristled right back. "We can't afford to start bickering among ourselves. Our country is at risk of attack because of all these moderate policies that simply don't accomplish anything but look good on paper. It took us years to get ourselves accepted as legitimate business partners of the previous Centre administration, and you know this."
"Yes," Harris agreed easily, "but all that history and good will isn't going to be worth the paper it's printed on if we can't get our projects back into motion."
Curtis glowered at Burns. "What about the others? Do they realize how much work it's going to take - AND money - to reinvent the wheel here?"
Senator Burns nodded tersely. "You gentlemen just get your people contacting the scientists themselves and getting agreement from them somehow - let me worry about the purse-strings."
"There's more to worry about than just that," Curtis grumbled in his hoarse voice. "I'd imagine that when the Centre returned unexpended funding, all that money was given to the Pentagon - who we all know damned good and well will have no vested interest in seeing that we get it back. That's several million dollars, gentlemen..."
"I told you to let ME worry about the funding issues," Burns barked at the general. "I have friends on the National Security Administration board - a carefully placed word will get us our funding back. But what we need more right now is to get our PROJECTS back."
"The more people we involve in this, the more vulnerable we become," Harris announced somberly. "A word to the wrong person, and our efforts will be exposed to..."
"I think we're all very aware of that fact, Colonel," Curtis grumbled. "That is, after all, the reason why no single one of us knows the entire network of contacts. Decentralization is key to maintaining our security - always has been."
"Do we have a backup plan, in case any part of this starts to blow up in our faces?" Harris asked, looking from one dark face to another.
"Yes," Burns admitted only reluctantly. "Trust me, if any part of this does start to blow up in our faces, the Centre will be sorry it ever decided to cross us."
Harris refrained from commenting. He may have been full of bluster and threat while sitting in Miss Parker's office with Senator Burns a week earlier, but he'd not failed to notice the iron will that the woman's breathtakingly beautiful exterior had hidden. He'd had a few private words with some of his own contacts out in the world, all of whom had marveled at the speed and effectiveness with which the Centre had divested itself of its underworld connections - all without causing very much ripple in the subculture itself at all.
"Don't underestimate the Parker woman and her organization," he warned the others carefully. "The Centre was a powerful entity before - and it's too soon for much of that reputation to have dissipated elsewhere yet. AND we know that she managed to distance herself from her mob ties without violating their sense of honor."
"She's a businesswoman, Harry," the legislator shook his head. "When push comes to shove, she's as much a slave to her bottom line as any of the rest of them. Trust me, a sufficient enough threat to that bottom line should do the trick of bringing her nicely back into line."
"Don't be such a doom and gloomer, Harry," Curtis chimed in. "Despite everything in the papers, you know and I know that WE are the government. It is WE who advise the advisors to the President - and it is OUR agenda that wins in the end. We WILL have a new incarnation of the old Centre, or we will see to it that the place is destroyed, utterly. Mark my words."
The General slipped from the darkened seat of the sedan and back out onto the sidewalk. "I'll call when I have news from my end - you two keep in touch." He gave the car roof a congenial pat that told the driver that he could continue on his way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sydney shifted slightly against his pillows and cushions to make himself more comfortable. Deb, fast asleep, murmured softly and cuddled tightly against his chest. He stroked her hair gently, knowing that he really needed to rouse her so that she could go to bed in a far more comfortable and familiar place. She had attached herself to him from the moment she'd fled to the safety of his arms after the scare with Kevin, and she hadn't strayed since. Even when he'd settled back onto his daybed, she had settled down next to him and leaned unabashedly into his embrace.
Frankly, he was disconcerted by her insecurity with known and loved members of her family - and he knew he needed very badly to talk to Kevin, who had been very upset by her response to his hug and had escaped to the back yard to be alone. Ikeda had gone out to join his young student, prompted by a glance from the psychiatrist over the top of Deb's head, leaving him holding his granddaughter as she finally relaxed against him and eventually dropped off to sleep.
"Deb, cheri," he called softly into her hair, moving his hands on her back in rousing circles. "Time for you to head up to bed."
She whimpered a complaint and huddled against him as she awoke. Grandpa, even lame as he was now, made her feel safer with his arms around her than she'd felt since running from his house over a week ago. And sleeping upstairs would put her closer to Kevin, and further away from the one person who had become her entire sense of security.
"Come on, ma petite. You're tired, and so am I. I can't hold you all night..."
"I haven't felt really safe until now," she whispered into his shirt. "I feel safe with you."
His big hands moved and smoothed her hair back away from her face. "I know, cheri, but you ARE safe now. Much safer than you were before."
"Can't I stay down here?" She raised her head and looked at him pleadingly. "Maybe in one of the easy chairs? Just for tonight, Grandpa? Please?"
He cupped her face between his hands. "I'm going to need to spend some time talking to Kevin once you're asleep," he told her honestly. "He's very upset that he frightened you so, and very confused. And you need to discover that you're safe again in your own room."
"But what if..."
Sydney shook his head. "Debbie, do you trust me?"
The crystal-blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Yes, of course, but..."
"Then trust me now, ma petite. I'll have Mr. Ikeda take up a post right outside your door, just to make sure nobody can get at you - and I'll explain things to Kevin again, so that maybe he won't startle you again." He pulled her head forward enough that he could deposit a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning - and we can talk about your feelings of insecurity then. OK?"
She gazed into her grandfather's chestnut eyes and found them warm and sympathetic. But it was his use of her old name that convinced her to do as he asked. She nodded finally in concession and pushed herself out of his embrace. "Debbie?" he asked as she rose to her feet.
"Hmmm?"
"It WILL be OK - maybe not right away, but it will get better as time passes."
She nodded, totally unconvinced but unwilling to disappoint him by indicating her disbelief. She shuffled toward the front of the house, and Sydney heard her footsteps hesitate slightly before beginning to climb the stairs.
He stretched and reached for his crutches, then pushed himself slowly to his feet. He made his way to the arcadia door that opened into the back yard and stood for a moment watching what was going on outside. Ikeda had done as he had hoped he would - he had convinced Kevin to get up and work on the kata, giving him a few more steps in the dance-like exercise routine to master. The two - the sandy-haired youth and the slightly built Japanese ninja - were moving through the kata smoothly and with studied grace. Kevin's face was a study of concentration, something that was far better in Sydney's estimation than the woebegone slump from earlier.
Ikeda nodded in Sydney's direction and led his student through the newer, final moves in the kata, then brought their practice to an end. "Your uncle, I think, wishes to speak with you, Kevin-san," he said, then turning to his student. "We shall continue this another evening."
Kevin's gaze gravitated toward the interior of the house and Sydney's figure in the arcadia doorway. He turned toward his teacher and bowed properly, as Ikeda had first taught him. "Thank you, Ikeda-sensei."
Ikeda returned the traditional bow of his lineage to his student and then walked resolutely to the door. He gave a more appropriate bow of respect to the silver-haired man in the doorway. "I shall take up my post now, Green-san. Good night."
"Uh..." Sydney put out a finger and detained him as he moved past. "Would you mind very much standing watch outside my granddaughter's door tonight?" He made a wry face. "She's not feeling very secure up there tonight, I'm afraid."
"Hai," Ikeda bowed immediately. Moving with the silence that came from long practice, the Japanese bodyguard made his way to the front of the house and up the stairs to take up a position in the upstairs hallway.
Kevin saw that Sydney didn't move when Ikeda went into the house, but rather leaned on his crutches and waited for his protégé to follow his martial arts instructor. The young man debated retreating to Davy's tree house, but thought better of it. Perhaps Sydney could help him make some sense of the way things had happened. The serenity of the kata had finally slipped away, and he shuffled his bare feet through the soft grass walking toward the patio.
"Feel like talking?" the older man inquired carefully. He finally moved to come out into the velvet-like late summer evening and settled himself into one of the wooden patio chairs.
"Yeah." Kevin slumped into the chair next to his mentor. "I blew it, didn't it?"
"We did talk about that," Sydney reminded the young man gently, "remember?"
The young Pretender began using a forefinger to trace the line of the slats that made up the arm of the chair he was in. "I know. It's just..." He looked over at Sydney. "I was just so happy to see her that..."
"That you didn't stop to think that she might not want to have to be so familiar with you right away."
"Sydney, she looked at me as if she didn't even know me!" Kevin complained sharply.
The old psychiatrist shook his head. "I don't think she does, Kevin - as much as you might find that hard to believe. Remember, we talked about this too - the person she was before all this mess began is gone, and may never come back again. She's not doing well at all right now."
"But..."
"Kevin," Sydney sighed. "I told you, this is going to take time, and things may never be back to the way they were. In many ways, she's a very frightened little girl right now. I had a hard enough time just talking her into going upstairs to bed tonight."
Kevin's eyes glittered in the patio light. "She's not going to be all right, is she?"
"It's too early to say," Sydney replied frankly. "I don't know. I haven't had much chance to talk to her yet. All she wanted to do was snuggle and feel safe, and so that's what I let her do. She slept for a while - while you and Mr. Ikeda were outside."
"I just want to help too," the young man said sadly. "I..." He looked over at his mentor, his heart in his eyes.
"I know," Sydney soothed, putting out a hand and patting Kevin's shoulder companionably. "And I know you mean well and that you care a great deal. But things are going to have to happen at Deb's speed and not ours, and certainly not all at once. This is going to be a challenging time for all of us - to you in regards to patience at getting your friend back, to me in regards to trying to be an effective therapist for her while being far more emotionally involved than would be considered wise."
"What about another psychiatrist?" Kevin asked cautiously.
Sydney shook his head. "I've already heard from Miss Parker about her problems with the therapist in the hospital in California - she only barely finally began to cooperate just enough to get herself released. I'm afraid that if not me, then the only other person she'll work with willingly is Jarod, and he's three thousand miles away right now."
"What should I do in the morning, then?" The young Pretender was feeling very useless and helpless in the face of the changes in the family dynamics.
"Be yourself, but just be a friend," Sydney suggested firmly. "Don't expect to be able to walk up to her quickly, or that she's going to be her regular, happy-go-lucky self. And most definitely, hugs will have to wait for a while at the very least." He sighed. "I'm probably going to have to be counseling her rather intensely for the time being, so you can keep yourself busy with those archives - or spend some time in the park with Davy, maybe... His school doesn't start for a while yet, and I'm sure he'll be wanting companionship, just like before..."
"What will SHE be doing tomorrow?"
Sydney leaned his chin into his palm and looked out into the nighttime sky. "Other than talking to me part of the day, I'm not exactly sure, Kevin." And that thought brought him no peace whatsoever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You say that he wants a Chinese secretary?" Xing-Li asked Mei-Chiang in her musical Cantonese.
"You're supposed to show up at his office an hour or so early tomorrow, so that he can talk to you about the job and get you settled in," Mei-Chiang smiled at the younger woman. "Mr. Tyler is a good man, Younger Sister, NOT like Mr. Lyle at all."
"What do I say to him?" Xing-Li curled up on the sofa that doubled as her bed and stared across the small room at her roommate for the last year. Mei-Chiang was older than she was by at least two years and had always been the more adventurous of the two, the more gregarious with Americans. While Xing-Li's English was good, she didn't feel as confidant of it or her ability to understand everything said to her.
The older woman smiled at her friend gently. "You don't say anything, Younger Sister. You listen and let Mr. Tyler do most of the talking. Then you give your very best to make sure that whatever he asks of you, you do." She reached across the small space to grasp her friend's hand in reassurance. "You can call me if you feel you're getting in over your head - I can at least help you out a little right at first."
"Is... Mr. Tyler's office very far from Miss Parker's?"
"Not at all. I'm just a little way down the hall from you right now." She let her mind wander to the idea that, someday, she would occupy a place of prestige in the new Tower that rumor said would rise from the crumpled debris of the old. "It is an honor to be chosen. It is what the brokers spent all that time and money teaching us how to handle properly."
"Americans frighten me, Older Sister," Xing-Li admitted with a small shudder. "They are SO tall, and their voices are loud..."
"You'll get used to that after a while," Mei-Chiang told her with a smile. "Besides, Mr. Tyler isn't one of the truly tall ones. You're talking about the sweepers - and they are big men for a good reason. They are the warriors." She thought briefly about Sam. Now that Miss Parker was back, perhaps he was back too.
"Won't the American secretary that Mr. Tyler has had be upset?" the tiny woman worried. "She is being demoted..."
"That is Mr. Tyler's worry - not yours," Mei-Chiang stated firmly. "But I suppose that it wouldn't be out of line for you to express some concern about that to Mr. Tyler when you meet with him. Also, don't be surprised if Mr. Tyler asks you questions about your employment here to date. He was a bit surprised to find out how we got our jobs and the terms of our employment."
That made the younger woman feel even less sure of herself. "What do you mean, surprised? Did he not know..."
Mei-Chiang was shaking her head. "Actually, he was quite upset with the whole idea that our services had been purchased in such a way. He said that he was going to bring the matter up with Miss Parker in the morning..."
"Are we both going to lose our jobs?" Xing-Li cried out, worried that not only was she moving into a new position, but one that would end almost as soon as it had begun.
"He says no - that he wants to improve our position for us."
Xing-Li's wide ebony eyes burned holes into those of her friend. "Do you believe him?"
"He seems like a man of his word, Younger Sister - and I'm going to trust that what he said was the truth until I find out otherwise. I think," Mei-Chiang moved from one sofa-bed to the other and put her arm around her more slightly built roommate gently, "you would be wise to do the same."
"I wish that we were still in Hong Kong," Xing-Li huddled against a woman who had, over the course of the last few years, taken the place of her entire family. She'd never had an older sister to watch over her - her older brothers had been more than happy to sell her to the broker when they found out that the money would keep them in cigarettes and dim sum for several months easily. Even so, the culture in this land so far from home was a strange and incomprehensible one - one that intimidated her almost to distraction.
Mei-Chiang held the younger woman close and let her hand rub comforting circles against the silk brocade of her cheongsam. Xing-Li had yet to adapt American fashions and had diligently kept the wardrobe she'd brought from Hong Kong in impeccable repair. "I think we are safer now, here, than we ever would be if we had been sold to a Chinese businessman," she said firmly. "A Chinese would have made concubines or prostitutes of us, and you know that."
"And American men eat us!"
She shook her head. "Not so. Mr. Lyle, I think, was unusual American for his appetites and tastes. I honestly don't think Mr. Tyler or some of the other Americans I've met lately would do such a thing." She patted Xing-Li on the back. "Now, get ready for bed and sleep well, Younger Sister. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."
Xing-Li swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled away from Mei-Chiang so that she could carefully and slowly remove one of the beautiful dresses that had come with her from Hong Kong and climb into the soft cotton shift that had also been provided to them as a suitable nightgown. With the cheongsam once more hung carefully in the small closet that she shared with her roommate, she pulled back the covers and crawled miserably between the coarse sheets.
She had no doubt whatsoever that she'd not be getting much sleep tonight at all. She was losing the anonymity that being simply a face in the clerical pool had given her. Feeling much as she had the night before their plane had left Hong Kong for a land thousands of miles away, she curled herself onto her side with her arms around herself, making herself as small as she could.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hello?"
"Good evening, Doctor Russell. I hope I didn't call too late..."
"No, no," Jarod told Rizzo. "What can I do for CPS?"
"Well, I was wondering if you would be able to allow us to come inspect your home tomorrow morning at about eight."
Jarod's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That's a little early, isn't it?"
Rizzo chuckled. "True - but we've discovered that sometimes popping in on a home that early in the morning can uncover some of the most interesting details of life in that home."
"Will it be you coming?"
"Yup - and another colleague of mine. This is pretty standard for an adoption process coming to a close - although how you managed to cut through all the red tape, I'll never know..."
"How do you take your coffee?" Jarod answered then with a smile in his voice.
"Black, thanks," Rizzo chuckled again, appreciating the ease with which his dealings with this psychiatrist had gone the few times they had met. "How's Ginger doing?"
"Fine," Jarod replied. "I think she's actually put on a few pounds since last you saw her, and my mom pointed out today that her pants are starting to look a little short on her."
"Is she talking at all?" Rizzo inquired.
"Not yet," Jarod admitted, "but she's showing signs of thinking about it every once in a while."
"Well, it will be interesting to see what you've managed to accomplish with her in the last week or so," the CPS caseworker informed him. "All of the reports that we got from Mrs. Thatcher were, of course, negative - so if you manage to make good progress with her, it will stand as evidence of lack of quality care in the Thatcher home." Rizzo paused, debating whether he wanted to tell Jarod everything he knew, then decided that the man could use all the help he could get in plumbing the bottom of that little girl's pain to lead her back to a normal life. "Some of the other children have been talking lately too," he said finally. "Seems that Mrs. Thatcher took out most of her frustrations on Ginger - and there were times that this meant physical..."
"No wonder this child was so traumatized by the time I got to her that night," Jarod growled protectively. "Please tell me criminal charges are begin filed against that woman..."
"We are investigating the frequency and severity of any reports of abuse, Doctor," Rizzo assured him somberly. "It would help if you've seen signs of bruising..."
Jarod shook his head. "Do you know how many scars this child wears from what she went through BEFORE she came to the Thatcher's?" he asked angrily. "Didn't you people do a physical exam when you took her away from that..."
"She wouldn't let us touch her after we got her to the shelter," Rizzo reminded Jarod quickly. "Remember the state she was in?"
"Vividly," the Pretender answered in disgust.
"Well," Rizzo said to break the uncomfortable silence that had accompanied that quick answer, "I'll see you in the morning."
"I'll have the coffee pot on for you and your colleague," Jarod reaffirmed, his voice somewhat mollified. "See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Dr. Russell."
"Good night, Mr. Rizzo."
"Who was that?" Margaret asked as she set aside one of Ginger's pairs of pants that she'd just let the hem out to the end on.
"The fellow from Child Protective Services. Seems they want to do a quick home inspection tomorrow morning."
"At eight o'clock?" Margaret gaped at him. "That's a little early, don't you think?"
Jarod nodded. "Then again, if there were something wrong in a household, how much better to find it out than by coming at an odd hour?"
She shot him a questioning look, then reached for another pair of pants. "Do you want me to come?"
"No, that's OK, Mom. You don't have to be here any earlier than you have been lately. I can handle the CPS folks."
"I'm glad Missy was able to speed things up for you, son," Margaret commented as she began carefully running the seam ripper down the line of stitching that held up the hem of the pantleg she was altering. "The sooner that little angel is yours for real, the better."
"I know," he nodded as he adjusted the glasses on his face. "I can't even imagine my life without her in it anymore."
"Do you have to leave RIGHT away, once the adoption is final, though?" Margaret asked with a slightly plaintive tone. "Missy managed to make time for a vacation here - can't you take your time packing?"
Jarod looked over at his mother indulgently. "I do have a rather large job waiting for me in Delaware, you know," he told her in an understanding tone. "And, to be honest, considering that Missy already has a home with all the amenities I'd ever need, all I'd have to pack would be my clothing, books and CDs - and my Pez dispenser collection. Ginger has so little to pack that her stuff won't take much time at all."
Margaret sighed. She could understand the need to be with his love and his son - she'd had the same need drive her actions for years before the family was finally reunited. But she would miss her oldest son. "It won't be the same around here without you, you know," she said softly.
"I know." Jarod delayed picking up the report he'd been studying before the phone call in favor of reaching over and patting his mother's knee. "We'll be back for visits, though, and you'll always have a place with us there..."
"Me? Go back to Delaware?"
"There's nothing to be afraid of back there anymore, Mom," he reassured her firmly. "All the people that had designs on our family are long gone. Missy's in charge of the Centre and is turning it strictly legit. The Triumvirate is out of the picture entirely now."
She glanced up into her son's warm chocolate gaze guiltily. "I just can't help feeling like it's too good to be true. There's gotta be SOMETHING..."
Jarod sighed and then smiled at her as he shook his head. "One day, when you feel like being very daring and adventurous, you'll come - and you'll see that you have nothing to fear."
Margaret's gaze became skeptical before she looked back down to her sewing. "We'll see," she said, shaking her head. "We'll see."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sam closed and locked his front door behind him, tossing his keys onto the little table near the door with a sigh of comfortable routine finally being re-established. He looked around the little house with no small amount of satisfaction. The time he'd spent in California was the longest period of time he'd spent away from his own home on Centre business in years, and it had made him appreciate what he'd managed to acquire for himself just all that much more.
His house was a small one, nestled into the middle of a working-class neighborhood of small houses, tricycles and swing sets in front yards and clotheslines filled with fresh laundry in back yards. Most of the Centre sweepers tended to rent in one of the larger, Centre-owned apartment complexes on the outskirts of Blue Cove - but not him. He'd found this place soon after his elevation to Miss Parker's personal sweeper and had been patiently paying on his mortgage ever since. Mowing lawns and keeping the leaves raked in the autumn had given a sense of balance to his nerve-wracking career as sweeper, and a haven away from the Centre entirely that he could call his own. It was more than big enough for one person - and with no other family that he wanted to claim or that would want to claim him, it was big enough for him.
He moved to the side of the living room and slipped the casement window open, letting the warm evening air freshen a room that had been closed up far too long for his liking. Sometime tomorrow, probably in the late afternoon, he'd have to go to the Blue Cove Post Office and pick up his collection of mail - after calling and getting his newspaper re-established too. Atlee Manor, as he sometimes sarcastically thought of his little abode, was back in business.
He'd already taken a quick trip out to the Centre, traded in the Centre limousine for his own car and checked in with the on-duty security staff to make it clear that all emergency calls should come to his home again and not to Harrison's. Chip was a good man - but when it came to the security of the Centre now that he was back, the buck stopped HERE, on Alder St. now. What he'd seen as he'd driven up the long drive past the old Tower site had been very encouraging. The change over the span of a little over a week was amazing - courtesy of round-the-clock construction work.
Already the thick cement slab had been poured that would be the ground-floor foundation for the new two-story Tower, and some of the steel I-beams and wooden forms for re-bar and cement columns that would be the support skeleton for the second floor were rising into the air. Most importantly, as far as Centre operations were concerned, the solid steel above ground bunker that would eventually serve as the new Tower's foyer had been constructed. The sub-level workers were now completely protected from the construction that was going on all around them as they moved from outdoors to the elevators that would carry them to their workstations below ground.
For now, however, he was content to drape his sports coat over the back of his favorite easy chair, loosen his tie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt to make himself comfortable. He headed back toward the kitchen and the refrigerator for one of the beers he'd bought nearly two weeks since. Tonight he would celebrate his homecoming - and the fact that he still had a job to go to in the morning. When he'd left, he'd been certain that his return would have been to the prospect of having to find new employment somewhere else. He'd never thought that hearing Miss Parker announce that he couldn't quit because the Centre "owned him" would have sounded so good.
He pulled the glass arcadia door open and then the screen door and out onto the unlit patio slab. He took a long drink from his beer bottle and felt himself relaxing - truly relaxing - for the first time in a very long time, it seemed. The problems of the week before were like a nightmare remembered, and the problems of the day to come nothing but whispers on the wind. For the time being, he could breathe in deeply of the fresh air of the little village and enjoy the peace and silence that surrounded him. He tipped the bottle up to his lips and drained the rest of the beverage thirstily.
He stood still for another long moment, then turned to go back into the house. He locked the glass arcadia door and put the amber bottle into his trash, then looked over at his answering machine on the counter. Not surprisingly, there were only three messages left on the machine in the entire time he'd been gone. He pushed the replay button, curious about who would have called, knowing that he'd probably not return any of the calls until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
The first was one of those annoying automated messages that he got constantly when the person who'd called hung up before the machine had a chance to finish its outgoing message. He hit the delete button just as the operator's smooth voice was saying "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and dial again..." to move to the next message. That one was from a telemarketer seeking people interested in selling their home or buying another. With a frustrated grunt he stabbed at the delete button again.
The third, however, brought a smile to his face. It was Mei-Chiang. "I know that you're not home yet, but I wanted to leave you a message for when you DO get home to say that I'm glad you're back. I look forward to seeing you in the morning."
He left that message still blinking on the machine and walked back to the front of the house to reclaim his small suitcase from where he'd left it by the little table next to the door. All the way to his bedroom, his face was soft as he finally allowed himself to contemplate the fact that he would actually be able to collect on the dinner invitation that he'd made to her before kidnappings and treachery had pulled him away from the Centre annex.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of seeing whether the security on duty at the Centre had a telephone number for her - then abandoned it with the strength of the yawn that followed his turning on his bedroom light. He was too tired, and wouldn't be able to hold up his end of a decent conversation without getting a good night's sleep in his own bed. There would be time enough in the morning to get her phone number directly from her - not to mention make arrangements for finally taking her out to that dinner after all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Deb jerked awake, forcing herself back into the world of a bedroom dimly lit by a small lamp at the side of her bed with a dark blouse thrown over it to make it a nightlight. She could still feel the tendrils of her nightmare reaching out to her - the feel of that man's hands on her, touching her... She shuddered and sat up straight. Tonight's nightmare had taken its setting from her return home - her attacker had come at her from the darkness of one of the corners in this very room and overpowered her. She HAD to get out of here!
She slipped from the bed without bothering to look for slippers or a robe to put on over her thin polyester nightgown, intent on darting down the hall, down the stairs and to the den to Grandpa. She felt safe when he was close for some reason, and the way the nightmare had taken her comfortable room at Grandpa's house and turned it into a place of horror made her anxious to find that feeling of safety and haven once more.
She threw open the bedroom door and turned the corner - then skidded to a stop in surprise. Sitting on his heels in the middle of the upstairs hallway, his back to the bedroom doors and facing the stairs, was a Japanese man. Her appearance behind him didn't cause him any surprise, he merely turned and gazed evenly at her over his shoulder - in the darkness, his eyes black holes.
It took a moment for her to remember that Grandpa had mentioned that he would have the new bodyguard, a Mr... Mr... she couldn't remember the name ... take up watch outside her door to make her feel safer. She hadn't thought about it at the time, but here was proof that he'd meant what he'd said - that he HAD set a guard outside her room to keep her safe from anybody who would want to intrude on her in the night.
Ikeda eyed the pale, blonde girl patiently. Obviously she hadn't expected to find him there - and equally obviously, she wasn't sure whether to be frightened by him or not. "Are you all right?" he asked in a soft voice without moving.
Slowly the blonde head nodded as the girl backed into her own doorjamb nervously. "I just wanted..."
That's when Ikeda began to see the signs of terror having visited the girl recently in her stance and her voice. Green-san had spent the better part of the early evening with this pretty dove of a granddaughter nestled into his arms protectively - and although he hadn't said much about exactly what it was that the girl had survived, Green-san's attitude had been one of severe worry. "Do you wish to go downstairs?" he asked the girl gently. "Do you need me to get out of your way?"
Deb put up a hand to cling to the doorjamb for support. She wanted her Grandpa desperately now - things were NOT the same here as they had been before she'd been taken! To find this soft-spoken man kneeling in the hallway just outside her door was downright unnerving - to have him discern her wishes with so little effort was embarrassing. Even if he was up there to guard her safety...
Ikeda didn't rise to his feet at all - he simply shifted and moved to the side of the hallway. "There," he said gently to the frightened young woman. "You can get past easily now. But..." he looked at her with the air of someone who knew what they were talking about, "you may want to take a blanket with you - and put on a robe. It can get cold in the den at night."
Deb's eyes widened. This stranger really DID know what she intended. She ducked back into her room and threw on her terry-cloth robe without buttoning it. She then snatched the bedspread from her bed and rolled it up carelessly before peeking back out of her bedroom door. Ikeda was still sitting on his heels against the wall, out of the way. "Th...thanks," she muttered and slid along the opposite wall to get past the Japanese bodyguard and then move quickly down the stairs.
She moved through the darkened house by memory, avoiding the dining table on her way to the back of the house and the den. Finally she stood in the doorway from the kitchen to the den, the sound of her grandfather's soft snoring filling her ears with security. She moved slowly now, debating on whether or not she wanted to find a spot on the floor next to the daybed or a more comfortable one in the recliner. She opted for the spot on the floor close to her Grandpa and moved the coffee table covered with file folders and papers back to make room for herself as soundlessly as she could.
The floor was hard under her backside, but she didn't care. She pulled the bedspread up beneath her chin and squirmed to get it tucked around her shoulders before turning her body to the daybed and laying her head down on the quilt covering the cushion near her grandfather's hip.
Sydney shifted and roused when his blanket seemed to be pinned down. He looked down the length of his body in the dim light and saw that there was a blonde head holding the quilt in place. He pulled his hand out from beneath the quilt and very gently stroked the hair back from her face, bringing the eyes open again. "What's the matter?" he asked softly.
"Nightmare," she answered briefly. "I got scared."
His hand stayed at her head, cradling her against his hip, while hers came up and hung onto the forearm tightly. He shifted and rolled slightly toward her to the extent that he didn't make his knee begin to ache. "What was it?" he asked finally, taking a chance that she still remembered the particulars of her dream.
"He came into my room..."
"Your room here?"
Her head nodded beneath his hand. "I couldn't move - and he started touching me..."
"Is that when you woke up?"
She shook her head. "I tried to call to you, to call to Kevin, but you didn't come because I couldn't make a sound." Her voice became broken. "Grandpa, how long will I have to remember?"
Sydney's hand stroked her gently. "Until you move on in life, cheri. Right now, you're stuck in that horrible moment in time - and it's beginning to define the way you look at yourself and others."
"I don't want that," she said with a hitch.
"I know you don't, ma petite. You'll have to work very hard to learn NOT to live every moment of your life in fear of that one moment coming back at you. Not everyone around you is going to hurt you, or touch you inappropriately. You really are much safer than you want to believe right now..."
"But how do I get out of being stuck? I don't know how to do that..."
"We'll talk about that in the morning, Debbie. Right now, you need your sleep and so do I. So..."
"Don't make me go back up to bed, Grandpa," she clung to his forearm just a bit tighter. "I'm afraid I'll just go right back into the nightmare..."
"No, no, I wouldn't make you go back upstairs now," he soothed. "But you'd probably have a much better sleep in that recliner over there than on the hard floor here. And I'll be right here if you get afraid again." He felt her raise her head. "Go on and settle down in the recliner. Getting yourself sleep-deprived on top of everything else right now is not a good idea - and I'll need fresh wits about me to help you tomorrow too."
"OK." He felt her hands drop away from his forearm. He stroked her hair one more time and then moved his hand away so that she could make her way to her feet again. "Thank you, Grandpa," she said, bending over him and somehow managing to drop a kiss on his cheek in the darkness.
"Goodnight, cheri. No more nightmares, now - remember, I'm right here," he soothed up at her softly.
Deb took a deep breath and moved around the coffee table in the direction of the recliner. Once she was seated and had both the footrest up in place and her bedspread covering her, she had to admit that Grandpa was right that it was a far more comfortable place to sleep than on the floor.
"Close your eyes now, cheri," Sydney modulated his voice into hypnotic tones. "They are so heavy already, you know. It's been a long time since you felt safe enough to relax entirely, but that time has come. All the tension is flowing from your muscles, and you feel limp like a wet dishrag. Your eyelids are so heavy that you can't keep them open anymore. Your body needs a good night's rest, free from dreams and fears, and that is what you will have tonight. You feel safe and secure, and you can relax and let yourself fall into a deep, restful sleep. At the count of three, you will take a deep breath and be fast asleep. And in the morning, you will awaken refreshed and feeling better than you have in days. One... Two... Three!"
Across the darkened room, he heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. After waiting a few minutes to make sure that Deb's breathing was deep and regular in sleep, and with a satisfied sigh of his own, he rolled himself back onto his back. Within a few minutes, he too was softly snoring - and the house was quiet again.
Feedback, please: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com
Night Voices
by MMB
Jarod put down his fork and picked up the telephone handset. "Hello?"
"Hi, it's me. We're home." Miss Parker's voice sounded tired.
He dropped the microphone away from his chin and looked over at the others at the table. "It's Mommy. They're home - and safe." Ginger's eyes brightened slightly and she smiled while Margaret patted her little granddaughter's hand. He brought the phone back up. "How was the trip?"
"Long," she said with a sigh, "Deb and I finally talked a bit and set our boundaries."
"I'm glad to hear that. How's Davy doing?"
That brought a chuckle. "He complained that it was 'too early' to go to bed, but I got him down a few minutes ago." She dropped her overnight bag into a chair next to her bedroom window and sat down on the edge of her bed. "And I'm just about to cave in myself. I'm not looking forward to starting a busy day tomorrow with a mammoth case of jet-lag."
He chuckled back. "Sprite and I agree that the house is just a little bit too quiet now that you two are gone, don't we?" He watched his little girl nod up and down vigorously. "Trust me, she agrees."
"I miss you two too," Miss Parker sighed back. "Now, how soon was that court date Crandall called about last night?"
"Two weeks," Jarod said firmly. "It's going to be a damned long two weeks..."
"How about the two prospects you and Ethan were thinking about?"
"I called both of them this afternoon," he told her in a tone of satisfaction. "They'll be in for interviews at the end of the week. Hopefully by this time next week, we'll know who is going to take my place and can start easing him into my schedule. That way we can head home as soon as the adoption is final." He paused and popped a quick bite of casserole in his mouth. "What about you? Have you talked to Tyler yet? Did the Centre fall in while you were gone?"
"I called him from Sydney's. He said things have been 'interesting'..." Jarod could just hear the dry humor that would have been in Tyler's voice saying such a thing. "Sam and I are meeting with him and Sam's assistant in the morning to discuss the developments."
"Speaking of whom, how IS Sydney?" Jarod asked quickly. "How's that leg of his?"
"Well," Miss Parker said with a grunt as she shed her blouse with one hand while still holding the phone with the other, switching hands in mid-comment, "he met us at the front door when we got home, and he was vertical at least."
"That's good to hear. On crutches, right?"
"Mmm-hmmm. I was glad, too - because Kevin gave Deb a hug she wasn't ready for and really knocked her for a loop. Once she made it to Sydney, she wouldn't leave his side - she glued herself to him and didn't stray an inch."
"Oh boy," Jarod grimaced. "I need to call him tomorrow, don't I?"
"Yeah," she hedged. "Jarod, there was something else - and with everything that was going on while I was there, I didn't tell you... But you need to know..."
"What?"
"I found out that Sydney's been playing some kind of 'game' with Davy - they both call it 'mind games.' You don't think..."
The Pretender sat back in his chair, cradling the telephone against his ear. "What kind of 'mind games?'"
She shook her head. "About all I could get out of Sydney on the phone this morning when I asked him about it was that they were 'what if' games..."
"SIMs." Jarod said the word dully. "Sydney had Davy doing SIMs?"
Across the table, Margaret had gone slightly pale. "Oh my God!" she muttered under her breath.
"He wouldn't have been training our son as a Pretender... would he?" Miss Parker worried at him.
Jarod's mind whirled. He knew that Sydney loved that child dearly and would never do anything that wasn't ultimately in Davy's best interest. He also knew that Sydney had been trained to see the signs of genius in children and develop it effectively. "I wouldn't be in too much of a rush to condemn him yet, Missy," he soothed uneasily. "If Sydney was having Davy run SIMs, there has to be a good reason for it. Give him a chance to explain..." He found himself having to put on a convincing face for his mother too, who was glaring at him in disbelief.
"But why wouldn't he have said anything to me about it?"
That was the question for which Jarod had no ready answer. "I'm sure he must have thought he had a good reason," he said, knowing how inadequate that sounded, even to himself.
"There were a lot of things over the years that he thought he had a good reason to keep from me," Miss Parker said sourly. "But I thought we'd gotten past all of that years ago."
"Don't create problems for the two of you out of nothing, Missy," Jarod advised carefully. "He loves you, and he loves Davy - more, I think, than he loves life itself. Besides, he raised me, remember? He didn't do all that badly by me, did he?"
"No..." She had to admit that even in the worst of scenarios, Sydney had not failed as a decent role model for Jarod. Heck, when he'd announced that he was stepping into a parental role with her after her accident years ago, she'd felt a rush of gratitude because she KNEW he was far better father material than the man who'd always claimed her as his daughter ever had been. Other than a frighteningly lethal soft-spoken fury that was to be avoided at all costs, he was patient and kind and constantly keeping an eye on her welfare. "He's been a good father for me too, these last few years. And," she felt obliged to report, "according to Deb, Davy's ability to use his mind creatively was the key to their getting away and getting rescued before..."
Jarod nodded. That also explained some of Davy's difficulty in relinquishing responsibility when he felt his actions were the cause of consequences. "Then give him the benefit of the doubt," he told her firmly. "Let him explain himself fully. If nothing else, no matter how hard it is to swallow, he will have done us all a favor by giving Davy the tools to see him through this nightmare and come out alive."
"I intend to at least try to give him the benefit of the doubt," she said, then held the phone away from her ear long enough to slip her nightgown over her head and let it fall into position on her shoulders. "I just wanted to let you know..."
"I appreciate that," Jarod said gently. "This was something we both needed to be aware of. And I want you to CALL me and tell me what he had to say for himself - or else tell him that I want to talk to him about it too. But right now you're sounding awfully tired, sweetheart. You want to say goodnight to Ginger before you go to bed?"
Miss Parker smiled. "Sure. Give her the phone."
Jarod held the phone out to the little girl around the corner of the table. "Mommy wants to talk to you. Here she is," he announced loudly enough so that Missy could hear him on the other end.
"Hi, Sprite," Miss Parker said softly into the phone, bringing a picture of her new daughter to the forefront of her mind. "Did you have a good day?"
Ginger nodded vigorously. "That's a yes," Jarod announced so Miss Parker could know she got a response.
"Are you and Teddy taking good care of Daddy for me?"
Ginger's eyes found her teddy where she'd carefully put it, propped in one of the other kitchen chairs at the table with them, and she nodded seriously. "That's another affirmative," Jarod called out.
"Then you have a good night, baby girl. I love you, you know..." Miss Parker found it not at all hard to say the words and wondered why she hadn't said them in California, directly to her new daughter, while she'd had the chance.
The little girl cuddled the phone into her ear and her eyes grew wide. It was one thing to hear Him tell her He loved her, or even Grandma Maggie, but now SHE was doing it too! Ginger's jaw dropped a bit and her gaze flitted to touch His.
Jarod watched the child's reaction to whatever it was that Miss Parker must have said to her with interest. Whatever it had been, it had touched something deep inside her, because all of a sudden the lips were opening and closing slowly, as if Ginger wanted to say something back. When he put his hand out for the telephone, she handed it to him almost in a daze. "Whatever you just told her," he told the woman on the other end, "it made quite an impression."
"I just told her I loved her and said goodnight," Miss Parker explained with a bump of astonishment and chagrin.
Ginger got out of her chair and then climbed up into His lap and cuddled down as she felt an arm surround her gently. Jarod kissed his little girl on the top of the head. "I think you have another fan here," he told Miss Parker softly, "and I think she misses you - a lot more than she'd expected to."
"Two weeks, huh?" Miss Parker ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. "You're right, it IS going to be a damned long two weeks."
"I love you," Jarod said gently.
"I love you too," she answered equally softly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Sweet dreams, Missy."
"Goodnight, Jarod."
Jarod put the handset back down on the table and wrapped his other arm around the child in his lap. "I miss Mommy," he said to her softly. "Don't you?"
Ginger had never thought she would have agreed with a statement like that, but now... She nodded and cuddled closer to Him.
"Sydney was training Davy as a Pretender?"
Jarod closed his eyes tiredly. "We don't know all the facts yet, Mom. Let's not jump to conclusions."
"You know..."
"No, I don't know." He gazed evenly at her over the top of Ginger's head. "Sydney loves Miss Parker and Davy very much. He'd never do anything to deliberately hurt either of them - and he knows the Centre well enough that he'd never let Davy be caught up in the mess that it was before... I'm going to wait to hear what he has to say before I decide whether to be angry or not. I owe him at least that much."
"I don't trust him," Margaret said stubbornly, stabbing her green beans with her fork in frustration. "He's been a Centre lackey for too long."
Jarod cradled his daughter just a little tighter against him. A part of him could understand his mother's and his fiancée's suspicious natures, and another part of him could almost understand Sydney's intentions. What were you doing, Sydney? Jarod projected his question at the mental image of his mentor in frustration. Just what the Hell did you think you were doing?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The back window was lowered. "So, what news?" came the gruff voice from the back seat.
General Curtis slipped into the passenger seat of the dark sedan parked near the Lincoln Memorial. "Colonel Stiller has made contact with the first of our targeted scientists within the Centre and is supposed to call her tomorrow night to get her answer on whether or not she's willing to restart Veracity. But he's not managed to do much more than that..."
"I told you that there would be drawbacks to keeping our organization this loose," Senator Burns snapped at the man sitting next to him. "Damn it, Curtis..."
"Look," General Curtis bristled right back. "We can't afford to start bickering among ourselves. Our country is at risk of attack because of all these moderate policies that simply don't accomplish anything but look good on paper. It took us years to get ourselves accepted as legitimate business partners of the previous Centre administration, and you know this."
"Yes," Harris agreed easily, "but all that history and good will isn't going to be worth the paper it's printed on if we can't get our projects back into motion."
Curtis glowered at Burns. "What about the others? Do they realize how much work it's going to take - AND money - to reinvent the wheel here?"
Senator Burns nodded tersely. "You gentlemen just get your people contacting the scientists themselves and getting agreement from them somehow - let me worry about the purse-strings."
"There's more to worry about than just that," Curtis grumbled in his hoarse voice. "I'd imagine that when the Centre returned unexpended funding, all that money was given to the Pentagon - who we all know damned good and well will have no vested interest in seeing that we get it back. That's several million dollars, gentlemen..."
"I told you to let ME worry about the funding issues," Burns barked at the general. "I have friends on the National Security Administration board - a carefully placed word will get us our funding back. But what we need more right now is to get our PROJECTS back."
"The more people we involve in this, the more vulnerable we become," Harris announced somberly. "A word to the wrong person, and our efforts will be exposed to..."
"I think we're all very aware of that fact, Colonel," Curtis grumbled. "That is, after all, the reason why no single one of us knows the entire network of contacts. Decentralization is key to maintaining our security - always has been."
"Do we have a backup plan, in case any part of this starts to blow up in our faces?" Harris asked, looking from one dark face to another.
"Yes," Burns admitted only reluctantly. "Trust me, if any part of this does start to blow up in our faces, the Centre will be sorry it ever decided to cross us."
Harris refrained from commenting. He may have been full of bluster and threat while sitting in Miss Parker's office with Senator Burns a week earlier, but he'd not failed to notice the iron will that the woman's breathtakingly beautiful exterior had hidden. He'd had a few private words with some of his own contacts out in the world, all of whom had marveled at the speed and effectiveness with which the Centre had divested itself of its underworld connections - all without causing very much ripple in the subculture itself at all.
"Don't underestimate the Parker woman and her organization," he warned the others carefully. "The Centre was a powerful entity before - and it's too soon for much of that reputation to have dissipated elsewhere yet. AND we know that she managed to distance herself from her mob ties without violating their sense of honor."
"She's a businesswoman, Harry," the legislator shook his head. "When push comes to shove, she's as much a slave to her bottom line as any of the rest of them. Trust me, a sufficient enough threat to that bottom line should do the trick of bringing her nicely back into line."
"Don't be such a doom and gloomer, Harry," Curtis chimed in. "Despite everything in the papers, you know and I know that WE are the government. It is WE who advise the advisors to the President - and it is OUR agenda that wins in the end. We WILL have a new incarnation of the old Centre, or we will see to it that the place is destroyed, utterly. Mark my words."
The General slipped from the darkened seat of the sedan and back out onto the sidewalk. "I'll call when I have news from my end - you two keep in touch." He gave the car roof a congenial pat that told the driver that he could continue on his way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sydney shifted slightly against his pillows and cushions to make himself more comfortable. Deb, fast asleep, murmured softly and cuddled tightly against his chest. He stroked her hair gently, knowing that he really needed to rouse her so that she could go to bed in a far more comfortable and familiar place. She had attached herself to him from the moment she'd fled to the safety of his arms after the scare with Kevin, and she hadn't strayed since. Even when he'd settled back onto his daybed, she had settled down next to him and leaned unabashedly into his embrace.
Frankly, he was disconcerted by her insecurity with known and loved members of her family - and he knew he needed very badly to talk to Kevin, who had been very upset by her response to his hug and had escaped to the back yard to be alone. Ikeda had gone out to join his young student, prompted by a glance from the psychiatrist over the top of Deb's head, leaving him holding his granddaughter as she finally relaxed against him and eventually dropped off to sleep.
"Deb, cheri," he called softly into her hair, moving his hands on her back in rousing circles. "Time for you to head up to bed."
She whimpered a complaint and huddled against him as she awoke. Grandpa, even lame as he was now, made her feel safer with his arms around her than she'd felt since running from his house over a week ago. And sleeping upstairs would put her closer to Kevin, and further away from the one person who had become her entire sense of security.
"Come on, ma petite. You're tired, and so am I. I can't hold you all night..."
"I haven't felt really safe until now," she whispered into his shirt. "I feel safe with you."
His big hands moved and smoothed her hair back away from her face. "I know, cheri, but you ARE safe now. Much safer than you were before."
"Can't I stay down here?" She raised her head and looked at him pleadingly. "Maybe in one of the easy chairs? Just for tonight, Grandpa? Please?"
He cupped her face between his hands. "I'm going to need to spend some time talking to Kevin once you're asleep," he told her honestly. "He's very upset that he frightened you so, and very confused. And you need to discover that you're safe again in your own room."
"But what if..."
Sydney shook his head. "Debbie, do you trust me?"
The crystal-blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Yes, of course, but..."
"Then trust me now, ma petite. I'll have Mr. Ikeda take up a post right outside your door, just to make sure nobody can get at you - and I'll explain things to Kevin again, so that maybe he won't startle you again." He pulled her head forward enough that he could deposit a kiss on her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning - and we can talk about your feelings of insecurity then. OK?"
She gazed into her grandfather's chestnut eyes and found them warm and sympathetic. But it was his use of her old name that convinced her to do as he asked. She nodded finally in concession and pushed herself out of his embrace. "Debbie?" he asked as she rose to her feet.
"Hmmm?"
"It WILL be OK - maybe not right away, but it will get better as time passes."
She nodded, totally unconvinced but unwilling to disappoint him by indicating her disbelief. She shuffled toward the front of the house, and Sydney heard her footsteps hesitate slightly before beginning to climb the stairs.
He stretched and reached for his crutches, then pushed himself slowly to his feet. He made his way to the arcadia door that opened into the back yard and stood for a moment watching what was going on outside. Ikeda had done as he had hoped he would - he had convinced Kevin to get up and work on the kata, giving him a few more steps in the dance-like exercise routine to master. The two - the sandy-haired youth and the slightly built Japanese ninja - were moving through the kata smoothly and with studied grace. Kevin's face was a study of concentration, something that was far better in Sydney's estimation than the woebegone slump from earlier.
Ikeda nodded in Sydney's direction and led his student through the newer, final moves in the kata, then brought their practice to an end. "Your uncle, I think, wishes to speak with you, Kevin-san," he said, then turning to his student. "We shall continue this another evening."
Kevin's gaze gravitated toward the interior of the house and Sydney's figure in the arcadia doorway. He turned toward his teacher and bowed properly, as Ikeda had first taught him. "Thank you, Ikeda-sensei."
Ikeda returned the traditional bow of his lineage to his student and then walked resolutely to the door. He gave a more appropriate bow of respect to the silver-haired man in the doorway. "I shall take up my post now, Green-san. Good night."
"Uh..." Sydney put out a finger and detained him as he moved past. "Would you mind very much standing watch outside my granddaughter's door tonight?" He made a wry face. "She's not feeling very secure up there tonight, I'm afraid."
"Hai," Ikeda bowed immediately. Moving with the silence that came from long practice, the Japanese bodyguard made his way to the front of the house and up the stairs to take up a position in the upstairs hallway.
Kevin saw that Sydney didn't move when Ikeda went into the house, but rather leaned on his crutches and waited for his protégé to follow his martial arts instructor. The young man debated retreating to Davy's tree house, but thought better of it. Perhaps Sydney could help him make some sense of the way things had happened. The serenity of the kata had finally slipped away, and he shuffled his bare feet through the soft grass walking toward the patio.
"Feel like talking?" the older man inquired carefully. He finally moved to come out into the velvet-like late summer evening and settled himself into one of the wooden patio chairs.
"Yeah." Kevin slumped into the chair next to his mentor. "I blew it, didn't it?"
"We did talk about that," Sydney reminded the young man gently, "remember?"
The young Pretender began using a forefinger to trace the line of the slats that made up the arm of the chair he was in. "I know. It's just..." He looked over at Sydney. "I was just so happy to see her that..."
"That you didn't stop to think that she might not want to have to be so familiar with you right away."
"Sydney, she looked at me as if she didn't even know me!" Kevin complained sharply.
The old psychiatrist shook his head. "I don't think she does, Kevin - as much as you might find that hard to believe. Remember, we talked about this too - the person she was before all this mess began is gone, and may never come back again. She's not doing well at all right now."
"But..."
"Kevin," Sydney sighed. "I told you, this is going to take time, and things may never be back to the way they were. In many ways, she's a very frightened little girl right now. I had a hard enough time just talking her into going upstairs to bed tonight."
Kevin's eyes glittered in the patio light. "She's not going to be all right, is she?"
"It's too early to say," Sydney replied frankly. "I don't know. I haven't had much chance to talk to her yet. All she wanted to do was snuggle and feel safe, and so that's what I let her do. She slept for a while - while you and Mr. Ikeda were outside."
"I just want to help too," the young man said sadly. "I..." He looked over at his mentor, his heart in his eyes.
"I know," Sydney soothed, putting out a hand and patting Kevin's shoulder companionably. "And I know you mean well and that you care a great deal. But things are going to have to happen at Deb's speed and not ours, and certainly not all at once. This is going to be a challenging time for all of us - to you in regards to patience at getting your friend back, to me in regards to trying to be an effective therapist for her while being far more emotionally involved than would be considered wise."
"What about another psychiatrist?" Kevin asked cautiously.
Sydney shook his head. "I've already heard from Miss Parker about her problems with the therapist in the hospital in California - she only barely finally began to cooperate just enough to get herself released. I'm afraid that if not me, then the only other person she'll work with willingly is Jarod, and he's three thousand miles away right now."
"What should I do in the morning, then?" The young Pretender was feeling very useless and helpless in the face of the changes in the family dynamics.
"Be yourself, but just be a friend," Sydney suggested firmly. "Don't expect to be able to walk up to her quickly, or that she's going to be her regular, happy-go-lucky self. And most definitely, hugs will have to wait for a while at the very least." He sighed. "I'm probably going to have to be counseling her rather intensely for the time being, so you can keep yourself busy with those archives - or spend some time in the park with Davy, maybe... His school doesn't start for a while yet, and I'm sure he'll be wanting companionship, just like before..."
"What will SHE be doing tomorrow?"
Sydney leaned his chin into his palm and looked out into the nighttime sky. "Other than talking to me part of the day, I'm not exactly sure, Kevin." And that thought brought him no peace whatsoever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You say that he wants a Chinese secretary?" Xing-Li asked Mei-Chiang in her musical Cantonese.
"You're supposed to show up at his office an hour or so early tomorrow, so that he can talk to you about the job and get you settled in," Mei-Chiang smiled at the younger woman. "Mr. Tyler is a good man, Younger Sister, NOT like Mr. Lyle at all."
"What do I say to him?" Xing-Li curled up on the sofa that doubled as her bed and stared across the small room at her roommate for the last year. Mei-Chiang was older than she was by at least two years and had always been the more adventurous of the two, the more gregarious with Americans. While Xing-Li's English was good, she didn't feel as confidant of it or her ability to understand everything said to her.
The older woman smiled at her friend gently. "You don't say anything, Younger Sister. You listen and let Mr. Tyler do most of the talking. Then you give your very best to make sure that whatever he asks of you, you do." She reached across the small space to grasp her friend's hand in reassurance. "You can call me if you feel you're getting in over your head - I can at least help you out a little right at first."
"Is... Mr. Tyler's office very far from Miss Parker's?"
"Not at all. I'm just a little way down the hall from you right now." She let her mind wander to the idea that, someday, she would occupy a place of prestige in the new Tower that rumor said would rise from the crumpled debris of the old. "It is an honor to be chosen. It is what the brokers spent all that time and money teaching us how to handle properly."
"Americans frighten me, Older Sister," Xing-Li admitted with a small shudder. "They are SO tall, and their voices are loud..."
"You'll get used to that after a while," Mei-Chiang told her with a smile. "Besides, Mr. Tyler isn't one of the truly tall ones. You're talking about the sweepers - and they are big men for a good reason. They are the warriors." She thought briefly about Sam. Now that Miss Parker was back, perhaps he was back too.
"Won't the American secretary that Mr. Tyler has had be upset?" the tiny woman worried. "She is being demoted..."
"That is Mr. Tyler's worry - not yours," Mei-Chiang stated firmly. "But I suppose that it wouldn't be out of line for you to express some concern about that to Mr. Tyler when you meet with him. Also, don't be surprised if Mr. Tyler asks you questions about your employment here to date. He was a bit surprised to find out how we got our jobs and the terms of our employment."
That made the younger woman feel even less sure of herself. "What do you mean, surprised? Did he not know..."
Mei-Chiang was shaking her head. "Actually, he was quite upset with the whole idea that our services had been purchased in such a way. He said that he was going to bring the matter up with Miss Parker in the morning..."
"Are we both going to lose our jobs?" Xing-Li cried out, worried that not only was she moving into a new position, but one that would end almost as soon as it had begun.
"He says no - that he wants to improve our position for us."
Xing-Li's wide ebony eyes burned holes into those of her friend. "Do you believe him?"
"He seems like a man of his word, Younger Sister - and I'm going to trust that what he said was the truth until I find out otherwise. I think," Mei-Chiang moved from one sofa-bed to the other and put her arm around her more slightly built roommate gently, "you would be wise to do the same."
"I wish that we were still in Hong Kong," Xing-Li huddled against a woman who had, over the course of the last few years, taken the place of her entire family. She'd never had an older sister to watch over her - her older brothers had been more than happy to sell her to the broker when they found out that the money would keep them in cigarettes and dim sum for several months easily. Even so, the culture in this land so far from home was a strange and incomprehensible one - one that intimidated her almost to distraction.
Mei-Chiang held the younger woman close and let her hand rub comforting circles against the silk brocade of her cheongsam. Xing-Li had yet to adapt American fashions and had diligently kept the wardrobe she'd brought from Hong Kong in impeccable repair. "I think we are safer now, here, than we ever would be if we had been sold to a Chinese businessman," she said firmly. "A Chinese would have made concubines or prostitutes of us, and you know that."
"And American men eat us!"
She shook her head. "Not so. Mr. Lyle, I think, was unusual American for his appetites and tastes. I honestly don't think Mr. Tyler or some of the other Americans I've met lately would do such a thing." She patted Xing-Li on the back. "Now, get ready for bed and sleep well, Younger Sister. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."
Xing-Li swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled away from Mei-Chiang so that she could carefully and slowly remove one of the beautiful dresses that had come with her from Hong Kong and climb into the soft cotton shift that had also been provided to them as a suitable nightgown. With the cheongsam once more hung carefully in the small closet that she shared with her roommate, she pulled back the covers and crawled miserably between the coarse sheets.
She had no doubt whatsoever that she'd not be getting much sleep tonight at all. She was losing the anonymity that being simply a face in the clerical pool had given her. Feeling much as she had the night before their plane had left Hong Kong for a land thousands of miles away, she curled herself onto her side with her arms around herself, making herself as small as she could.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hello?"
"Good evening, Doctor Russell. I hope I didn't call too late..."
"No, no," Jarod told Rizzo. "What can I do for CPS?"
"Well, I was wondering if you would be able to allow us to come inspect your home tomorrow morning at about eight."
Jarod's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That's a little early, isn't it?"
Rizzo chuckled. "True - but we've discovered that sometimes popping in on a home that early in the morning can uncover some of the most interesting details of life in that home."
"Will it be you coming?"
"Yup - and another colleague of mine. This is pretty standard for an adoption process coming to a close - although how you managed to cut through all the red tape, I'll never know..."
"How do you take your coffee?" Jarod answered then with a smile in his voice.
"Black, thanks," Rizzo chuckled again, appreciating the ease with which his dealings with this psychiatrist had gone the few times they had met. "How's Ginger doing?"
"Fine," Jarod replied. "I think she's actually put on a few pounds since last you saw her, and my mom pointed out today that her pants are starting to look a little short on her."
"Is she talking at all?" Rizzo inquired.
"Not yet," Jarod admitted, "but she's showing signs of thinking about it every once in a while."
"Well, it will be interesting to see what you've managed to accomplish with her in the last week or so," the CPS caseworker informed him. "All of the reports that we got from Mrs. Thatcher were, of course, negative - so if you manage to make good progress with her, it will stand as evidence of lack of quality care in the Thatcher home." Rizzo paused, debating whether he wanted to tell Jarod everything he knew, then decided that the man could use all the help he could get in plumbing the bottom of that little girl's pain to lead her back to a normal life. "Some of the other children have been talking lately too," he said finally. "Seems that Mrs. Thatcher took out most of her frustrations on Ginger - and there were times that this meant physical..."
"No wonder this child was so traumatized by the time I got to her that night," Jarod growled protectively. "Please tell me criminal charges are begin filed against that woman..."
"We are investigating the frequency and severity of any reports of abuse, Doctor," Rizzo assured him somberly. "It would help if you've seen signs of bruising..."
Jarod shook his head. "Do you know how many scars this child wears from what she went through BEFORE she came to the Thatcher's?" he asked angrily. "Didn't you people do a physical exam when you took her away from that..."
"She wouldn't let us touch her after we got her to the shelter," Rizzo reminded Jarod quickly. "Remember the state she was in?"
"Vividly," the Pretender answered in disgust.
"Well," Rizzo said to break the uncomfortable silence that had accompanied that quick answer, "I'll see you in the morning."
"I'll have the coffee pot on for you and your colleague," Jarod reaffirmed, his voice somewhat mollified. "See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Dr. Russell."
"Good night, Mr. Rizzo."
"Who was that?" Margaret asked as she set aside one of Ginger's pairs of pants that she'd just let the hem out to the end on.
"The fellow from Child Protective Services. Seems they want to do a quick home inspection tomorrow morning."
"At eight o'clock?" Margaret gaped at him. "That's a little early, don't you think?"
Jarod nodded. "Then again, if there were something wrong in a household, how much better to find it out than by coming at an odd hour?"
She shot him a questioning look, then reached for another pair of pants. "Do you want me to come?"
"No, that's OK, Mom. You don't have to be here any earlier than you have been lately. I can handle the CPS folks."
"I'm glad Missy was able to speed things up for you, son," Margaret commented as she began carefully running the seam ripper down the line of stitching that held up the hem of the pantleg she was altering. "The sooner that little angel is yours for real, the better."
"I know," he nodded as he adjusted the glasses on his face. "I can't even imagine my life without her in it anymore."
"Do you have to leave RIGHT away, once the adoption is final, though?" Margaret asked with a slightly plaintive tone. "Missy managed to make time for a vacation here - can't you take your time packing?"
Jarod looked over at his mother indulgently. "I do have a rather large job waiting for me in Delaware, you know," he told her in an understanding tone. "And, to be honest, considering that Missy already has a home with all the amenities I'd ever need, all I'd have to pack would be my clothing, books and CDs - and my Pez dispenser collection. Ginger has so little to pack that her stuff won't take much time at all."
Margaret sighed. She could understand the need to be with his love and his son - she'd had the same need drive her actions for years before the family was finally reunited. But she would miss her oldest son. "It won't be the same around here without you, you know," she said softly.
"I know." Jarod delayed picking up the report he'd been studying before the phone call in favor of reaching over and patting his mother's knee. "We'll be back for visits, though, and you'll always have a place with us there..."
"Me? Go back to Delaware?"
"There's nothing to be afraid of back there anymore, Mom," he reassured her firmly. "All the people that had designs on our family are long gone. Missy's in charge of the Centre and is turning it strictly legit. The Triumvirate is out of the picture entirely now."
She glanced up into her son's warm chocolate gaze guiltily. "I just can't help feeling like it's too good to be true. There's gotta be SOMETHING..."
Jarod sighed and then smiled at her as he shook his head. "One day, when you feel like being very daring and adventurous, you'll come - and you'll see that you have nothing to fear."
Margaret's gaze became skeptical before she looked back down to her sewing. "We'll see," she said, shaking her head. "We'll see."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sam closed and locked his front door behind him, tossing his keys onto the little table near the door with a sigh of comfortable routine finally being re-established. He looked around the little house with no small amount of satisfaction. The time he'd spent in California was the longest period of time he'd spent away from his own home on Centre business in years, and it had made him appreciate what he'd managed to acquire for himself just all that much more.
His house was a small one, nestled into the middle of a working-class neighborhood of small houses, tricycles and swing sets in front yards and clotheslines filled with fresh laundry in back yards. Most of the Centre sweepers tended to rent in one of the larger, Centre-owned apartment complexes on the outskirts of Blue Cove - but not him. He'd found this place soon after his elevation to Miss Parker's personal sweeper and had been patiently paying on his mortgage ever since. Mowing lawns and keeping the leaves raked in the autumn had given a sense of balance to his nerve-wracking career as sweeper, and a haven away from the Centre entirely that he could call his own. It was more than big enough for one person - and with no other family that he wanted to claim or that would want to claim him, it was big enough for him.
He moved to the side of the living room and slipped the casement window open, letting the warm evening air freshen a room that had been closed up far too long for his liking. Sometime tomorrow, probably in the late afternoon, he'd have to go to the Blue Cove Post Office and pick up his collection of mail - after calling and getting his newspaper re-established too. Atlee Manor, as he sometimes sarcastically thought of his little abode, was back in business.
He'd already taken a quick trip out to the Centre, traded in the Centre limousine for his own car and checked in with the on-duty security staff to make it clear that all emergency calls should come to his home again and not to Harrison's. Chip was a good man - but when it came to the security of the Centre now that he was back, the buck stopped HERE, on Alder St. now. What he'd seen as he'd driven up the long drive past the old Tower site had been very encouraging. The change over the span of a little over a week was amazing - courtesy of round-the-clock construction work.
Already the thick cement slab had been poured that would be the ground-floor foundation for the new two-story Tower, and some of the steel I-beams and wooden forms for re-bar and cement columns that would be the support skeleton for the second floor were rising into the air. Most importantly, as far as Centre operations were concerned, the solid steel above ground bunker that would eventually serve as the new Tower's foyer had been constructed. The sub-level workers were now completely protected from the construction that was going on all around them as they moved from outdoors to the elevators that would carry them to their workstations below ground.
For now, however, he was content to drape his sports coat over the back of his favorite easy chair, loosen his tie and unbutton the top button of his dress shirt to make himself comfortable. He headed back toward the kitchen and the refrigerator for one of the beers he'd bought nearly two weeks since. Tonight he would celebrate his homecoming - and the fact that he still had a job to go to in the morning. When he'd left, he'd been certain that his return would have been to the prospect of having to find new employment somewhere else. He'd never thought that hearing Miss Parker announce that he couldn't quit because the Centre "owned him" would have sounded so good.
He pulled the glass arcadia door open and then the screen door and out onto the unlit patio slab. He took a long drink from his beer bottle and felt himself relaxing - truly relaxing - for the first time in a very long time, it seemed. The problems of the week before were like a nightmare remembered, and the problems of the day to come nothing but whispers on the wind. For the time being, he could breathe in deeply of the fresh air of the little village and enjoy the peace and silence that surrounded him. He tipped the bottle up to his lips and drained the rest of the beverage thirstily.
He stood still for another long moment, then turned to go back into the house. He locked the glass arcadia door and put the amber bottle into his trash, then looked over at his answering machine on the counter. Not surprisingly, there were only three messages left on the machine in the entire time he'd been gone. He pushed the replay button, curious about who would have called, knowing that he'd probably not return any of the calls until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
The first was one of those annoying automated messages that he got constantly when the person who'd called hung up before the machine had a chance to finish its outgoing message. He hit the delete button just as the operator's smooth voice was saying "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and dial again..." to move to the next message. That one was from a telemarketer seeking people interested in selling their home or buying another. With a frustrated grunt he stabbed at the delete button again.
The third, however, brought a smile to his face. It was Mei-Chiang. "I know that you're not home yet, but I wanted to leave you a message for when you DO get home to say that I'm glad you're back. I look forward to seeing you in the morning."
He left that message still blinking on the machine and walked back to the front of the house to reclaim his small suitcase from where he'd left it by the little table next to the door. All the way to his bedroom, his face was soft as he finally allowed himself to contemplate the fact that he would actually be able to collect on the dinner invitation that he'd made to her before kidnappings and treachery had pulled him away from the Centre annex.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of seeing whether the security on duty at the Centre had a telephone number for her - then abandoned it with the strength of the yawn that followed his turning on his bedroom light. He was too tired, and wouldn't be able to hold up his end of a decent conversation without getting a good night's sleep in his own bed. There would be time enough in the morning to get her phone number directly from her - not to mention make arrangements for finally taking her out to that dinner after all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Deb jerked awake, forcing herself back into the world of a bedroom dimly lit by a small lamp at the side of her bed with a dark blouse thrown over it to make it a nightlight. She could still feel the tendrils of her nightmare reaching out to her - the feel of that man's hands on her, touching her... She shuddered and sat up straight. Tonight's nightmare had taken its setting from her return home - her attacker had come at her from the darkness of one of the corners in this very room and overpowered her. She HAD to get out of here!
She slipped from the bed without bothering to look for slippers or a robe to put on over her thin polyester nightgown, intent on darting down the hall, down the stairs and to the den to Grandpa. She felt safe when he was close for some reason, and the way the nightmare had taken her comfortable room at Grandpa's house and turned it into a place of horror made her anxious to find that feeling of safety and haven once more.
She threw open the bedroom door and turned the corner - then skidded to a stop in surprise. Sitting on his heels in the middle of the upstairs hallway, his back to the bedroom doors and facing the stairs, was a Japanese man. Her appearance behind him didn't cause him any surprise, he merely turned and gazed evenly at her over his shoulder - in the darkness, his eyes black holes.
It took a moment for her to remember that Grandpa had mentioned that he would have the new bodyguard, a Mr... Mr... she couldn't remember the name ... take up watch outside her door to make her feel safer. She hadn't thought about it at the time, but here was proof that he'd meant what he'd said - that he HAD set a guard outside her room to keep her safe from anybody who would want to intrude on her in the night.
Ikeda eyed the pale, blonde girl patiently. Obviously she hadn't expected to find him there - and equally obviously, she wasn't sure whether to be frightened by him or not. "Are you all right?" he asked in a soft voice without moving.
Slowly the blonde head nodded as the girl backed into her own doorjamb nervously. "I just wanted..."
That's when Ikeda began to see the signs of terror having visited the girl recently in her stance and her voice. Green-san had spent the better part of the early evening with this pretty dove of a granddaughter nestled into his arms protectively - and although he hadn't said much about exactly what it was that the girl had survived, Green-san's attitude had been one of severe worry. "Do you wish to go downstairs?" he asked the girl gently. "Do you need me to get out of your way?"
Deb put up a hand to cling to the doorjamb for support. She wanted her Grandpa desperately now - things were NOT the same here as they had been before she'd been taken! To find this soft-spoken man kneeling in the hallway just outside her door was downright unnerving - to have him discern her wishes with so little effort was embarrassing. Even if he was up there to guard her safety...
Ikeda didn't rise to his feet at all - he simply shifted and moved to the side of the hallway. "There," he said gently to the frightened young woman. "You can get past easily now. But..." he looked at her with the air of someone who knew what they were talking about, "you may want to take a blanket with you - and put on a robe. It can get cold in the den at night."
Deb's eyes widened. This stranger really DID know what she intended. She ducked back into her room and threw on her terry-cloth robe without buttoning it. She then snatched the bedspread from her bed and rolled it up carelessly before peeking back out of her bedroom door. Ikeda was still sitting on his heels against the wall, out of the way. "Th...thanks," she muttered and slid along the opposite wall to get past the Japanese bodyguard and then move quickly down the stairs.
She moved through the darkened house by memory, avoiding the dining table on her way to the back of the house and the den. Finally she stood in the doorway from the kitchen to the den, the sound of her grandfather's soft snoring filling her ears with security. She moved slowly now, debating on whether or not she wanted to find a spot on the floor next to the daybed or a more comfortable one in the recliner. She opted for the spot on the floor close to her Grandpa and moved the coffee table covered with file folders and papers back to make room for herself as soundlessly as she could.
The floor was hard under her backside, but she didn't care. She pulled the bedspread up beneath her chin and squirmed to get it tucked around her shoulders before turning her body to the daybed and laying her head down on the quilt covering the cushion near her grandfather's hip.
Sydney shifted and roused when his blanket seemed to be pinned down. He looked down the length of his body in the dim light and saw that there was a blonde head holding the quilt in place. He pulled his hand out from beneath the quilt and very gently stroked the hair back from her face, bringing the eyes open again. "What's the matter?" he asked softly.
"Nightmare," she answered briefly. "I got scared."
His hand stayed at her head, cradling her against his hip, while hers came up and hung onto the forearm tightly. He shifted and rolled slightly toward her to the extent that he didn't make his knee begin to ache. "What was it?" he asked finally, taking a chance that she still remembered the particulars of her dream.
"He came into my room..."
"Your room here?"
Her head nodded beneath his hand. "I couldn't move - and he started touching me..."
"Is that when you woke up?"
She shook her head. "I tried to call to you, to call to Kevin, but you didn't come because I couldn't make a sound." Her voice became broken. "Grandpa, how long will I have to remember?"
Sydney's hand stroked her gently. "Until you move on in life, cheri. Right now, you're stuck in that horrible moment in time - and it's beginning to define the way you look at yourself and others."
"I don't want that," she said with a hitch.
"I know you don't, ma petite. You'll have to work very hard to learn NOT to live every moment of your life in fear of that one moment coming back at you. Not everyone around you is going to hurt you, or touch you inappropriately. You really are much safer than you want to believe right now..."
"But how do I get out of being stuck? I don't know how to do that..."
"We'll talk about that in the morning, Debbie. Right now, you need your sleep and so do I. So..."
"Don't make me go back up to bed, Grandpa," she clung to his forearm just a bit tighter. "I'm afraid I'll just go right back into the nightmare..."
"No, no, I wouldn't make you go back upstairs now," he soothed. "But you'd probably have a much better sleep in that recliner over there than on the hard floor here. And I'll be right here if you get afraid again." He felt her raise her head. "Go on and settle down in the recliner. Getting yourself sleep-deprived on top of everything else right now is not a good idea - and I'll need fresh wits about me to help you tomorrow too."
"OK." He felt her hands drop away from his forearm. He stroked her hair one more time and then moved his hand away so that she could make her way to her feet again. "Thank you, Grandpa," she said, bending over him and somehow managing to drop a kiss on his cheek in the darkness.
"Goodnight, cheri. No more nightmares, now - remember, I'm right here," he soothed up at her softly.
Deb took a deep breath and moved around the coffee table in the direction of the recliner. Once she was seated and had both the footrest up in place and her bedspread covering her, she had to admit that Grandpa was right that it was a far more comfortable place to sleep than on the floor.
"Close your eyes now, cheri," Sydney modulated his voice into hypnotic tones. "They are so heavy already, you know. It's been a long time since you felt safe enough to relax entirely, but that time has come. All the tension is flowing from your muscles, and you feel limp like a wet dishrag. Your eyelids are so heavy that you can't keep them open anymore. Your body needs a good night's rest, free from dreams and fears, and that is what you will have tonight. You feel safe and secure, and you can relax and let yourself fall into a deep, restful sleep. At the count of three, you will take a deep breath and be fast asleep. And in the morning, you will awaken refreshed and feeling better than you have in days. One... Two... Three!"
Across the darkened room, he heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. After waiting a few minutes to make sure that Deb's breathing was deep and regular in sleep, and with a satisfied sigh of his own, he rolled himself back onto his back. Within a few minutes, he too was softly snoring - and the house was quiet again.
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