Resolutions – 22
Holding Pattern
by MMB
"What do you mean, you keep losing them?"
Gillespie stood in front of his boss' desk and shrugged. "For the last two days, the three of them have climbed into a car and driven aimlessly around town for about a half an hour or so. Yesterday, our attempt to listen in on their conversation at a restaurant ended up defunct because they never actually went IN to the restaurant – today, the car went around and picked them each up one by one and then let them off afterwards."
Berghoff frowned. "You did follow them, though?"
"Yeah, for whatever good it did – they didn't stop or stay any one place for longer than it takes a red light to turn green," Gillespie stated in frustration. "I think they've figured out that we have a tail on them – maybe even have guessed about the phone taps – and now are using these mobile meetings to get away with making plans without our being able to know what those plans might be."
"So, what do you suggest?" the Assistant Director asked his agent curiously. "We know we have put the screws to these guys – but if we can't figure out what they're going to do next, we won't know where or how to make our move to catch them with their pants down."
"You've got me," Gillespie said with a shake of the head. "Surveillance tapes indicate that they're not in telephone contact with each other at all. So everything they do must be being planned in those car treks or…" The FBI agent began to smile. "…or their secretaries are making the arrangements for them…"
Berghoff's eyebrows rose halfway up his face. "Now that would be a novel idea – get the secretaries to make the arrangements on other than office lines. It would be harder to chase down."
"These guys are cagey," Gillespie admitted reluctantly. "Something tells me we're going to have to really stay on our toes if we intend to nail them."
"Obviously," he agreed. "They must have something in mind, or else they'd be starting to run damage control big time. I wonder if a call over to Senator Ashland would give us a clue as to what they're up to."
"You think they'd do something official?" the agent gasped. "Doing something very public could backfire on them pretty badly when we have all the evidence we need to haul them in."
"Unless what they hope to instigate would be even bigger than their own problems would be," Berghoff said thoughtfully. "Call Ashland and see if she's got anything new, and I'll start setting up teams on the secretaries." His face drooped in frustration. "This is getting to be a damned expensive investigation resources-wise. We'd better come up with something very solid very soon, or I'm going to be on the carpet trying to explain why I have a total of fifteen men so far investigating three Senators."
Karen Cushman looked over into the corner where the girl that Miss Parker had dumped on her was finishing the filing job she'd been given, and the clerical supervisor had to give a reluctant grunt of approval. The girl may not answer to a last name and looked as if she'd been on the losing end of a prizefight, but she knew how to file – both numerically and alphabetically. In fact, she was quite good at it, knowing without having to be told that sorting the material to be filed ahead of time would shorten the job considerably.
"Well, how's our intern working out?"
Cushman jumped to hear Miss Parker's voice come from behind her. "Doing better than I'd anticipated," she admitted, "considering that she refuses to give a last name by which we can call her and looks like she…"
"How she looks at the moment has nothing to do with whether or not she can handle the job," Miss Parker reminded her employee pointedly. "What I'm interested in is whether or not she can handle the duties you would give her, not whether she gives you a last name – which is NOT standard Centre practice, by the way…"
"It has been protocol in THIS department for many years now," Cushman said archly. "It had been long established that way when I inherited the job five years ago…"
"Well, consider it diminished to a VOLUNTARY practice from now on," Miss Parker directed firmly. "The use of a last name as a form of direct address tends to depersonalize an employee – and right now, I'm looking to build a loyal and motivated staff rather than the alienated one I inherited. It will be interesting to see how many of your staff will opt for being called by their first names at last once they see Crystal get away with it." The storm grey eyes were sharp and inflexible. "Won't it?"
"Yes, ma'am," Cushman grumbled.
"Good. I'm glad you see things my way," Miss Parker stated pointedly, deciding that she'd have Tyler keep an eye on this department over the next few weeks to see whether Karen Cushman was ready to work for a saner, friendlier Centre. She WAS, after all, the person Raines had put in charge of the clerical pool not long after he'd taken the reins of power – and just how well she'd do in a less authoritarian administration was yet to be seen.
In the meantime, however… She made her way to Crystal's side. "I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing before the day was over," she said to the girl gently.
Crystal was astonished. "But… you're the Chairman," she gaped.
"Yes," Miss Parker agreed with a small grin, "I am. What about it?"
The dark eyes were wide and obviously intimidated. "You do realize that everybody in here is scared spitless of you, don't you?"
That made the tall brunette chuckle as she looked around her at heads deliberately turned to their computer screens and not watching them at all. "You see, I have a certain reputation left over from years past for being… shall we say LESS than approachable," she told the girl in a confidential tone.
"But then that just makes me wonder why you'd worry about ME – I mean, I'm just a clerical flunky…"
"You are important to someone who is important to me," Miss Parker told her in an even tone. "Two somebodies actually – between Sydney and Sam, I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't keep my eye on you and make sure you get a decent chance to make it."
Crystal ducked her head and busied herself with her filing. "I don't want to stand out here," she said softly. "Ms. Cushman already resents me because I wouldn't give her my last name. She calls everybody in here by their last names – and it sucks."
"I AM going to need your last name eventually so that I can have the payroll department make out your paychecks, you know," Miss Parker told her carefully. "But I've already spoken to Ms. Cushman about calling people by their last names only – and told her that policy is no longer a mandatory one."
"Can I just make up a last name and you can use that one instead?" Crystal asked plaintively. "I mean, Crystal isn't my real name anyway – just the one I want people to call me now. How about I just tell you 'James' or something…"
"Is there a problem with people finding out your family name that I should know about?"
"No, ma'am," the girl responded immediately. Certainly her last name wouldn't cause the same kind of comment HERE that it would have at home – but still... "It's just that… I'd just as soon not belong to the family that raised me – if you know what I mean… I came a long distance and changed my name completely to get away from them – I don't want anyone to make any kind of connection that would get back to…"
"Are you in trouble back home, is that it?" Miss Parker put a hand on her shoulder.
"No. Like I told Sam, I just don't want to live life as a punching bag anymore," Crystal said dully. "And right now I really need to get this filing done…"
"OK, Crystal James it is," Miss Parker said cautiously. "You go ahead and finish, and have a good weekend. There will be a picture ID card waiting for you at the front desk when you come to work on Monday morning with that as your name."
"Thank you, Miss Parker," Crystal said earnestly. "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."
Miss Parker smiled and then walked through the clerical pool, unable to miss several clerical workers looking over at the girl with either extreme curiosity or jealousy in their eyes. She'd have to use other means to keep an eye on the girl for Sydney – Crystal probably was right to not want to stand out from the rest. Maybe Mei-Chiang could be her eyes and ears down here – or even Xing-Li.
She'd have to ask.
"Here's the cell phone you wanted, Senator – and I delivered the package to the Post." Celia said efficiently. "Is there anything else you wanted before I head off for the weekend?"
"No," Senator Jackson told her with a shake of the head. "Thanks for taking care of those things for me – you really are a life-saver, you know…"
The woman who had been his secretary for nearly ten years smiled and preened in the light of his appreciation and then gestured. "I'm off, then. I'll see you Monday morning."
"Absolutely."
He waited until Celia had pulled the door shut behind herself on her way home before Jackson pulled a slip of paper from his shirt breast pocket and dialed the number written there.
"Washington Post," came the neutral receptionist's voice.
"I want to speak to David Lawler," Jackson said quietly and calmly.
"Just one moment," was the response, and then the line went dead in his ear as he was put on hold and transferred. Jackson waited patiently while the other end of the line suddenly rang four times, and then was picked up. "Lawler."
"Did you get the package I sent you?" Jackson asked, whispering into the receiver.
"Speak up, sir, I can't…"
"No," Jackson refused, his voice still a whisper. "So, did you get it?"
"I got… something…" Lawler looked at the manila envelope that had been dropped on his desk only a few minutes earlier. "You wanna save me some time reading it and tell me what this is all about?"
"It's about secrets and lies," Jackson whispered ominously. "Secrets and lies that your readers might find VERY interesting."
"What kind of secrets and lies?" Lawler demanded, his slender fingers working the flexible metal tabs to open the envelope and pull out the file folder that was inside.
"Read it," Jackson demanded, still in a whisper. "I'll wait."
There was a long moment of silence, then, "The Centre? Is that the same place…"
"That was bombed a few weeks ago? Yes," Jackson answered in an even softer whisper.
The silence on the other end of the line stretched out as Lawler leafed slowly through the pages of the folder, skimming the information and stopping at random points to read more in depth. "This is very interesting reading, Mr…"
"Call me… Deeper Throat," Jackson whispered with a soft chuckle.
"Yeah, right. Very cute." Lawler sounded thoroughly skeptical. "You know, I see a lot of accusation in here and not a whole lot of substantiation to go with it. For example…" He flipped back through the pages until he had found the paper documenting Maj. Charles Russell's attempts to involve several law enforcement agencies in an investigation of his allegation against the Centre of kidnapping. "I see that this Major Russell filed several missing persons documents – but I don't see any subsequent reports from those agencies either dismissing the allegation or keeping it open, nothing."
"All in good time," Jackson promised.
"Right," Lawler grimaced. "Look. The Centre is an object of considerable public sympathy right now because of all the people that were killed in the bombing – as well as those whom the new Chairman personally helped rescue. I'm going to need a helluva lot more than vague accusations before I'll write any kind of expose."
"You'll get your proof…"
"What I'd REALLY need would be an interview with this Pretender himself – this… Jarod fellow."
Jackson snorted. "I'm sure the Centre itself would like an 'interview' with this Jarod fellow too," he whispered caustically. "Inasmuch as the Centre never managed to catch him – at least as far as my sources are concerned – I'd say your chances of talking to a victim of this project stand somewhere between slim and none. However, and aside from that – if I bring you more proof, would you be interested?"
Lawler ran his slender fingers through his ample and curly brown hair. He'd been at this desk, writing public interest pieces for nearly a year now – neither excelling nor bombing out totally. A decent and juicy expose could put him one the reporting map – in much the way Woodward had vaulted from obscurity to national renown. "You get me bonafide, verifiable sources who'll vouch for the truth of some of this, and I'll be definitely interested, Mr… Whomever."
"Watch your inbox, then," Jackson whispered. "You'll hear from me again." He disconnected the call abruptly and smiled. It would take law enforcement quite a while to figure out his association with this particular cell phone number – he ought to be able to get things nicely moving toward the explosion of scandal before anybody figured anything out – by which time, maybe Lawler wouldn't need his guidance to dig deeper into Centre skeletons anymore.
All in all, it had been a very productive day. Now it was time to head home and see if Callie had his dinner ready yet. He looked down at his watch – he was running about fifteen minutes later than usual – so if the food wasn't on the table, hot and ready to be served… His eyes twinkled coldly.
Sydney sighed and dropped the folder he'd been skimming through into the pile of 'to be incinerated' material and lay back into his pillows. He was tired – he hadn't slept really well the night before, and his attempt to nap after lunch had been futile. Worry about Deb and Kevin and their situation hadn't helped, not with so much else bubbling up in his mind. There were now too many memories of Dachau and pain and hopelessness escaping the dark places to which he'd banished them for him to be able to rest. It wasn't fair – he didn't WANT to remember these things, and certainly not NOW! He had too much to do – too many responsibilities despite being laid up on this damned couch – to be suffering insomnia or any other Post-Traumatic Stress symptom from something that had happened over two-thirds of a lifetime ago.
"It's after five," Kevin announced from the kitchen doorway. "Are you ready to get unplugged?"
"Absolutely," the older man agreed readily. He watched the young man move into the room and sit down on the coffee table like he always did at both ends of the day. "How is your reading going?"
Kevin just shook his head as he turned off the machine. "I just can't get over the amount of basically useless experimentation that was done back in the late 60's and early 70's, Sydney – stuff on the effects of sleep deprivation or oxygen starvation on the mind's ability to concentrate and solve problems. Some of the techniques…"
"I know," Sydney closed his eyes and lay back against the comfortable pillow. "Most of that was work that Mr. Raines was doing after he lost his license to practice medicine."
"I keep seeing and hearing that man's name," Kevin said, reaching out for the buckles that held the injured knee to the cradle of the therapy machine. "Who WAS he, and why did he always manage to choose the most inhumane and cruel methodology?"
Sydney opened his eyes and looked at his young protégé evenly. "Be glad you never met him or had to endure an experiment under his aegis, Kevin," he told him seriously. "The man was a monster – a monster that ended up running an organization that did monstrous things in the name of science and profit, no matter the cost in human suffering."
"You said he lost his license to practice medicine – when did that happen?" the young Pretender lifted Sydney's leg away from the machine so that he could stand and move the device away from the couch and onto the floor out of the way.
"That would have been about 1968," Sydney remembered, running his finger alongside the edge of his nose as he thought back. "It was the result of certain experiments with children involved in the Pretender Project…"
"Jarod?" Kevin asked, clearly interested.
"No, I managed to talk Mr. Parker out of giving Raines temporary control of Jarod and putting him through…" Sydney sighed. "Raines had his own private Sim Lab set up in SL-27 in those days, and he was given three of the Red File subjects in an effort to boost their intellectual capabilities as Pretenders and test their tolerances to stress and other negative factors. But Raines' techniques were, as you say, cruel and inhumane – and the subjects that were given to him to work with all ended up damaged to a greater or lesser extent as the result of the tests. Two of them died — I didn't find out for sure what REALLY happened to the third until much, much later." Sydney glanced at Kevin and saw the look of disgust on the young Pretender's face.
"But…" Kevin struggled to understand. "Wasn't there, even at that time, a code of ethics…"
"Yes," Sydney nodded with grim satisfaction. "In the end, it was that and the evidence of some of his experimentation reaching the right people that lost him his license. I did my part to help that process along…"
Kevin looked at his mentor in surprise. "You turned him in?"
"In a manner of speaking," Sydney admitted. "Actually, I was the one that put together the evidence of the two deaths and what had caused them – it was Miss Parker's mother, Catherine, who saw to it that the evidence reached the governing board of the American Association of Psychiatry. I only knew the details of the information I gathered for her – but that was enough to give me nightmares for weeks. However, it seemed, sabotaging Raines in this way was Catherine's revenge for what Raines had done to that third Red File child known as Timmy. In many ways, the two children who died in the fire that destroyed that sublevel were the lucky ones — and she never forgave him for what he had already done to Timmy. She saw to it he was reprimanded and censured by his peers — stripped of any official authority."
"But Sydney," Kevin said cautiously, "the censure didn't do much good. I've see the records – he just went right on experimenting…"
"No, it didn't do much in the end except rob Raines of his beloved position as a licensed and official medical practitioner," Sydney admitted. "But that was enough to keep him from being able to continue some of the out-of-house projects he'd been working on at the same time – from using his position at the Centre to acquire privileges and experimental subjects in State Hospitals. Preventing him from being able to do that anymore probably saved quite a few lives in the long run. His loss of privileges also meant that I had grounds from which to protect Jarod all the more from his experimentation – except on those occasions when they could lure me away from the Centre to attend seminars and conferences. And as soon as I figured out what was going on in my absence, I stopped taking advantage of all these events being thrown at me all the time – I rarely even took vacations anymore."
"Did he ever know it was you…"
"Oh, I made sure I let him know that I was part of it," Sydney told him proudly. "He hated me even more than before after that — he had always resented that I had been given Jarod and not he. I think that my knowing so many of his secrets also made him afraid of me to a certain extent during the last few years. I knew where most of his skeletons were buried in the mainframe – and I had the kind of associates whom I could convince to easily disinter them and cause trouble if he gave me too much grief." He patted his protégé on the shoulder and pushed himself to his feet to head off to the bathroom the moment the burning pain in the knee from resuming the task of bearing weight lessened. "I'd be willing to guess that the greater share of the projects and data having his name on them have been ending up in the 'burn this' stack, right?"
Kevin nodded with grim satisfaction. "Most of it is either redundant or so ethically challenged to make the results suspect."
"Then if you see Raines was involved in the work, just throw it out by default," Sydney suggested. "ANYTHING to lessen the load and get through those damned boxes any quicker. And the sooner we disassociate ourselves from anything having to do with that man, the better anyway."
"Sydney?" Miss Parker's voice called from the front of the house.
"Back here, Parker," he called back and then limped toward the bathroom. "I'll be right out."
"What did you do, just let him loose?" Miss Parker asked from the kitchen door, and then smiled at Kevin when he answered with a grin and a nod. "Tell me," she asked in a slightly conspiratorial tone, "how is he today?"
"Tired," Kevin answered immediately. "He said he didn't sleep well last night – and things didn't exactly go smoothly this morning…"
Miss Parker nodded. "Jarod told me that might be the case. Listen — I'm going to want you to give him one of his old pain pills when it's time for everybody to turn in," she told him. She then hastened to explain when Kevin gave her a startled look that threatened to argue with her. "He needs to rest, and if he's having nightmares, he might need some help resting until Jarod can get here and start working with him more intensely…"
"Jarod isn't going to need to work with me, Parker," Sydney interrupted as he came out of the bathroom door. "There's nothing to be done."
A quick glance from storm-grey eyes had Kevin deciding to duck back out into the kitchen and beyond to let his mentor argue his point with Miss Parker. Personally, he agreed with Jarod about helping Sydney rest one way or the other – and HE didn't want to have to weather the argument when he was too tired to fight the battle. He also agreed with Miss Parker that Sydney needed to talk to someone — someone who could help him find his balance again. If that someone needed to be Jarod…
"Sydney," she began, shaking her head. "You know that you need to talk to someone…"
"I thought that was why I was talking with YOU," Sydney complained bitterly. "You wanted in, remember?"
"Stop it – it's not going to work," Miss Parker told him in a flat and calm voice. "I know you just want to push this back under the carpet, and I know it isn't working – and it isn't my fault in either case." She looked at him and could easily see the signs of fatigue. "You look like hell, Syd – didn't you sleep well last night?"
"No, I didn't sleep well," he retorted. "The last time I slept well, I was too drunk not to." He limped over to where he could grasp one crutch and put it under his arm. "I don't want to talk about it – not tonight."
"Kevin said that things didn't go smoothly this morning," she remarked, standing deliberately in his way so that he couldn't easily move around her to leave the room. "What's going on?"
"Parker…"
"Just tell me what happened this morning," she sighed. "It's a pretty simple question…"
"I found out that our two lovebirds weren't being careful," Sydney admitted at last. "I had to step down fairly heavily just to make sure that they started taking responsibility for their actions – and that Deb stopped being starry-eyed and took care of making sure they used contraceptives."
Miss Parker stared for a moment and then shook her head. "God, Syd, you probably embarrassed the hell out of Deb. That kind of discussion is probably best carried out between a girl and a trusted female friend — not a grandfather! Why didn't you ask me to talk to her?"
He stared at her for a moment in surprise. "It's MY house they're living in, Parker – and if she comes up pregnant, its ME that Broots will look to for answers as to why I didn't step in and stop things…"
"He'll probably climb all over the both of us, Sydney," she nodded. "But you still could have left the sensitive stuff to me, you know…"
Sydney gave her a guilty glance, and then shrugged. "You're working," he finally offered by way of explanation. "You don't need that much more on your plate. I should be able to tend the home fires without THAT much assistance…"
"Is Deb still speaking to you?"
"Yeah," he said slowly. "but I had to go upstairs and smooth some feathers after I guess I pulled my 'Inquisitor' number on her…"
"Oh great," Miss Parker groaned, then looked at her surrogate father in exasperation. "Can't you see what's happening, Syd? You're over-reacting – this should have been nothing to fly THAT far off the handle about."
Sydney looked at her for a long moment, then backed down. He found his way back to the daybed couch and sat down slowly again. "I know," he said unhappily. "I just…" He looked up at her helplessly. "It just happened."
Miss Parker moved between the daybed couch and the coffee table and sat down on amid the file folders facing her old friend. "And that's why I want you to let Jarod help you when he gets back," she told him gently. "I'm here, and God knows that I'll listen to you and try to help – but Jarod knows how to help you so much better than I do."
"Jarod is going to be plenty busy helping you put the Centre back on a reasonable track," Sydney protested – and he could see from the expression in her face that his protestations were essentially futile. "Parker, be reasonable…"
"You be reasonable, damn it," she shot back. "You're struggling with something bigger than you are – and more than that, some of what is bothering you most is something that only Jarod will be able to help you resolve. I can listen to your stories and help you talk your way through some of the worst of the memories, but only Jarod will be able to deal with the way you're blaming yourself for things that have to do with him personally."
"Parker…"
"Deb needs you stable so that she can hang onto you – and right now, you're in practically the same boat that she is. You're both having nightmares about the things that happened to you – were done to you – but yours are nightmares that you've been suppressing for half a century. You're both acting without thinking things through properly – and you're both tending to fly off the handle far too easily. Look at yourself, Sydney, and tell me I'm wrong."
But she wasn't wrong, and he knew it. She was far too observant for a mere layperson – always had been. "You're not wrong," he admitted reluctantly.
"Then stop fighting me," she pleaded. "Let Kevin give you one of your old pain pills tonight before you go to bed – you know as well as I do that it'll knock you flat and put you to sleep for the entire night so that at least you won't be exhausted tomorrow morning. Tomorrow's going to be a big day, with Jarod coming home – you aren't going to want to be collapsing from exhaustion, are you?"
Sydney gave Miss Parker a sideways glance. "I didn't have you pegged as a fast-talking mother hen until just now," he commented wryly. "All right – I'll let Kevin give me a pain pill before bed. But…" he held up a restraining forefinger, "…no trips down memory lane tonight, please. I'm not really in the mood, nor do I have the stamina to go through the entire gamut of emotions tonight."
Miss Parker put her arm on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "OK – but just for tonight. You're still going to let me in, right?" Sydney looked down and nodded slowly in agreement, and she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "Then I'll let you off the hook for tonight – maybe even for tomorrow night too. Temporary respite."
There was the sound of the garage door opening, and then Deb's voice sounded in the kitchen greeting Kevin. "Why don't you go see if I've left any feathers that still need smoothing," Sydney suggested with a reassuring expression. "I'll be out in a minute, after I give you a chance to talk to Deb and Kevin without my hanging over you or making things awkward."
She chuckled and kissed his cheek this time. "Aren't you glad that you didn't have to try to counsel or control ME when I was a horny little teenager?"
"Are you kidding?" he gave her a shaky smile of gratitude. "I think I'd have locked you away in a convent school."
Miss Parker arose shaking her head. "Poor Deb! I'll go see how she's faring. Give me a minute."
"Take your time," he told her, scooting back on the couch until his back was well supported. "I'm in no hurry." He leaned his head back against the cushioned back as she walked away and ran his mind over what she'd told him. She was right – he was in as bad a shape as Deb herself was, and needed help getting his own head screwed back on straight every bit as much as Deb ever had. Maybe letting Jarod work with him – going through the memories and, worse, the self-accusations that had erupted louder and more caustically than ever before. There again, Parker had been right – so much of what was the most painful needed Jarod's direct intervention – something he'd often wished for and virtually given up on ever having his protégé's willing participation.
Yes, they had talked about things when Jarod had first returned to Delaware – gone over quite a bit of the more specific and egregious failings he had been guilty of over the years – and laid most of those to rest. What was left, however, were the general things – trivial details pertaining to his attitude and treatment of Jarod overall as a subject rather than as a human being that had characterized over twenty years' worth of association and mentorship. There hadn't been time to get into all that before he'd been shot and everything else had started going to hell.
God, he was tired!
Ethan stood up and raised his wine glass. "A toast – to Jarod, who put this family back together piece by piece, and who now leaves us to put his own family together at last."
The rest of the family all raised their wineglasses in response, and a collective, "Here! Here!" resounded before all took a sip.
"So, big brother," Jay said, reaching out and snagging the platter of meat before his younger brother could even get sat down again and beat him to it, "When's the wedding day?"
"Not sure yet," Jarod answered as he dished up mashed potatoes for Ginger and then for himself. "A lot will depend on what the situation is at the Centre – whether we'll have the time to just relax and plan something like that, or whether it will have to wait until we put out more fires again."
"I still don't know how you can stand going back to work at the same place that treated you like a virtual slave," Emily remarked sharply. "I always thought you swore you'd never go anywhere near it again."
"You have to admit that going back for a visit, like you did this past summer, was one thing," Nathan agreed, "and going back there for good is another entirely."
"Well," Jarod responded easily, "back when I was swearing up and down that I'd never go back there again, I hadn't figured out that I was in love in anybody back there – much less found out that I had a child or that my somebody was in love with me too."
"Still," Emily insisted, taking the bowl of buttered vegetables from her mother and giving a helping of them to her son before taking her own, "to WORK for them…"
"I'm not working for or with the same people who were the causes of my nightmares, Sis," Jarod reminded her with a sharp look. "They're out of the picture completely now. This is an entirely different organization, running by different rules and with an entirely new agenda. Yes, some of the faces are the same – but in completely different roles and with completely different responsibilities."
"We all learned that some of our assumptions needed adjustment while Missy was here," Margaret spoke up finally. "I'm going with him to see just how many of the others need adjustment too. It would be nice to think that we don't ever have to fear the Centre finding us again…"
"You don't," Jarod insisted in a tone of complaint. "You already know that."
"It's still a very new concept, you have to admit," Jay reminded his older brother somberly. "Even when we weren't running or hiding out, we were keeping an eagle-eye over our shoulders…"
"I never felt that you folks were doing that all that much to stay under cover," Nathan complained gently. "And all of you hardly ever mentioned the Centre in my presence before…"
"Before Dad died and I went back East," Jarod finished for him. "I know that was how most of us felt — how much the Centre was just always there in the backs of our minds like a mugger ready to jump out and take us down. For what it's worth, THAT'S why I went back there in the first place — to put an end to having to do that once and for all — remember? I just happened to find a lot more than I bargained for once I got there."
"It's just…" Emily started, then blushed. "I just wish that you weren't in such a rush to leave. You see, Nathan and I have an important announcement to make."
Jarod turned astonished chocolate eyes on his sister. "What do you mean, an announcement?"
Nathan reached out and took his wife's hand tightly. "Em and I are going to have another baby," he said without any further ado.
"That's GREAT!" Jay's face cracked open in a huge grin. "When?"
"Mid-March," Emily answered, her face glowing with happiness. "I'm really hoping for a little girl this time."
"What do you think about this, Sammy?" Ethan asked his nephew with a smile on his face. "You get to be a big brother now."
"Yeah!" the little boy preened beneath his uncle's gaze. "And Mommy says that I get to help once the baby gets here."
"You'll be a lot of help for your Mom," Jarod said surely. "And you are SO lucky to get to be a big brother, you know."
"Another toast," Ethan said, rising again. "To our family as it grows and gets new members – both here AND in Delaware."
"Here! Here!" Again the wine glasses around the table went into the air in answer, and then clinked together before another sip was taken.
As if by mutual agreement, the rest of the dinner conversation had little to do with the sadness of leave-taking and much more about the happy news of the pending arrival of a new child. Then it was time for dessert, and Emily brought a present out from the kitchen when she carried in the cake. Ginger's eyes got huge and round when her Auntie put the cake down on the table and carried the box over and handed it to her. "This is for you, Sprite," she said gently, crouching by the girl's chair at the table, "a going-away present from all of us here. We just want you to know that we're going to miss you – a lot."
"Yeah!" Sammy chimed in. "Open the box, Ginger!"
"Can I?" Ginger asked her father.
"Of course," Jarod told her with a smile. "Let's see what's inside."
Ginger looked at her Auntie again, and then set about very carefully opening the box – moving the ribbon aside and pulling each piece of tape away from the decorative paper so that it didn't tear. Finally she could slip the box inside from its paper wrapping, which Emily took charge of while the girl lifted the top from the box. She moved the tissue paper inside aside and then gaped. Inside was a beautiful dress of pink chiffon with sequins defining a decorative pattern on the bodice that made it look like something a princess would wear. Ginger stared at the dress, her mouth open but no words coming out, and then looked up at her Auntie again.
"Very soon," Emily told her niece gently, "your Daddy is going to get married. And when he does, I wanted to make sure you had the most beautiful dress in the world to wear."
"T'ank-oo, Aunt Emmie," the little girl finally managed in an awe-struck whisper and reached out to give her Auntie a very tight hug.
"Oh, sweetie, you're so very welcome," Emily replied, returning the tight hug. She closed her eyes as the child's arms remained around her neck. "I am so going to miss having my Mouse in the house."
"Me not a Mouse, Aunt Emmie," Ginger protested with a smile, this being a favorite word game she played with her Auntie. "Me a Sprite."
"You'll always be a Mouse to me," Emily told her, giving the child's father a knowing look.
"I honestly don't think she'll be that quiet for much longer," Jarod grinned. "Maybe you should start calling her Magpie."
"Daddy!" Ginger's indignant cry made the adults around the table all chuckle heartily, although with bittersweet happiness. Ginger had become a part of the family — when she left with her father, she would leave a hole as well.
Tyler smiled and raised his water glass in a salute to the lady across the table from him. He'd decided against fast food as a venue for a dinner date somewhere over the course of the day, and so after he had picked Xing-Li up at her apartment, he had driven them to a Denny's on the outskirts of Dover. "Here's to a pleasant evening and good conversation," he pronounced carefully.
The pretty Chinese woman across from him raised her water glass in an answering gesture and then sipped at the ice-cold liquid. "Here, here," she agreed quietly.
Tyler folded his hands on the table in front of himself and gave his dinner companion a steady look. "Tell me about yourself," he asked. "What do you do when you're home alone? What do you like to do? What kind of music…"
She blinked. "I write letters to some of my friends," she began shyly.
"In China?"
"And in Hong Kong – some of them live there now," she nodded. "I read…"
"What do you read?"
She blushed and found something very interesting in the weave of the tablecloth in front of her. "Some romances," she admitted in a very soft voice, and then looked up. "What about you?"
Now it was Tyler's turn to blink in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"What do YOU do during your free time?"
"Well," Tyler began, his smile growing slightly, "I sometimes take my car out to the race track on Sunday afternoons and race against some of the other guys…"
"Are you your own mechanic?" she tipped her head slightly with eyes bright with interest.
"You bet!" he replied quickly. "I've been nursing that little baby along now for a good number of years – and I even win a race with her every once in a while." He grinned at her expression of interest. "Are you a racing fan?"
"I know very little about it," Xing-Li admitted, "except that I think it must be very exciting to go so very fast."
He smiled indulgently. "I don't know – riding a horse in a race is far more exciting than driving a car. There's just something about the wind in your face, and the feel of all that muscle and power under you, and the idea that the two of you are one."
"I've never even been near a horse in my life," Xing-Li told him, her eyes now sparkling. "I've only seen them in movies."
"When I was living with my uncle in Texas while I was a teenager, I think I spent three quarters of my time on horseback – riding fence lines and herding cattle…"
"So you were a real cowboy? I thought they only existed in the movies and on television nowadays."
"There's a lot of need for folks to do things with horses out West," he told her.
"After that, did you go to school to become a businessman?" she asked as soon as the waiter had delivered both of their salads and left them alone again.
Tyler chuckled and shook his head. "No, I did just about everything a man could possibly do to survive, and I traveled through a lot of countryside doing it. I milked cows and mucked out barns in Wisconsin, I drove truck in California, I worked as a security guard in Chicago. And when I wasn't working, I was going to the local schools, piecing together a Liberal Arts degree and then finally a degree in biology."
The almond eyes were wide and astonished. "How did you end up here, then?" she asked, leaning her chin into her hand.
"I learned martial arts from my uncle – who had a black belt and ran a small dojo in El Paso. Anyway, I heard about the Centre and their need for security men, and I came to apply for a job as a sweeper." He nodded in the face of her look of shock. "Luckily for me, as it turned out, the job required proficiency in firearms – and with a punctured eardrum, I couldn't stand the noise. So they found a place for me downstairs in the morgue. That's where Miss Parker found me on the day the Tower blew up. She gave me this job a couple of days after we all got out."
"So you haven't been an executive all that long then," Xing-Li exclaimed. "But I thought… It always seemed that you were so comfortable with the job…"
"Most of what Miss Parker wants me to do is run interference for her," he said with a shrug. "And for some reason, she seems to think that I can broker deals for her one minute, help her read through contracts and see where we stand to either make a profit or get run to the cleaners, depending on the wording."
"I guess I just didn't expect you to be so much like me," Xing-Li said with a shy smile. "You reached down into the clerical pool and gave me this advanced and complex job much the way Miss Parker gave you yours."
"I hadn't really thought of it that way," Tyler admitted with a nod after thinking about it for a while, "but you're right. We both kinda got rescued from the mundane existence we'd each been relegated to and now have very different and interesting lives as a result."
"And you work on your car and win races with it on Sundays," she added with a smile.
"And you read romance novels and write letters to friends," he added to that. "Nothing else?"
Xing-Li blushed behind a demure hand. "I do needlework," she told him shyly. "At home, my grandmother was a very respected artist with her needlework – and before my father sold me, my mother was insisting that I sit with my grandmother everyday and try to learn her craft. So now, when I get homesick, I do embroidery – the traditional patterns and stitches that my grandmother taught me."
"Do you get homesick often?" Tyler asked gently, his fork full of salad floating in front of his face waiting for an answer.
"I did for a very long time," she answered honestly. "Especially when the girls I had come to Delaware with started to disappear. All I could think of was that we wouldn't have to be so afraid if we'd stayed in Asia. Mr. Lyle…" She shuddered.
"I am SO glad that he never got to you – or Mei-Chiang," Tyler bent forward earnestly. "And I'm glad that you're here, now. Do you still get homesick?"
She shook her head. "I haven't since Miss Parker became the Chairman – not really." She blushed. "Well, maybe a little on the day that Mei-Chiang moved in with Sam. That meant that I was alone in that apartment building. But now…"
"Now you have at least one neighbor," Tyler nodded, "although I think Dr. Mitchell will be moving back into her own home soon – as soon as she feels certain that she doesn't need to worry about that man that attacked her getting loose."
"I'll miss her," Xing-Li said with a touch of sadness, "but now there is the new girl – Crystal. She's very shy – and very alone."
"I don't want to talk shop anymore," Tyler said, reaching out and touching the back of her left hand as it rested on the table. "We both spend enough time at the Centre – let's enjoy being OFF the clock."
"I think I can do that," she replied, touched.
Xing-Li smiled at her dinner companion. So her boss had come from fairly humble beginnings and had only recently been promoted at the Centre. Knowing this made her feel a little more comfortable with the idea of his interest in her outside of work. He was an interesting person in a very scattered and very American kind of way – even to the point of having been a real cowboy!
For his part, Tyler was thoroughly enchanted. He'd let her turn the tables on him and get him talking about himself, knowing that by being open and honest about his own background, he was preparing the ground to find out more about her. He'd never been in a position where he actually had to put a lady at ease to the extent he had to work with Xing-Li, and he was finding the idea of gaining her trust genuinely addictive.
He was glad that he'd run this potential relationship past Miss Parker already. He already knew that he was going to want to see more of Xing-Li – hopefully by the end of the evening, it wouldn't be quite so hard to convince her that she wouldn't mind seeing more of him either.
Miss Parker leaned against the doorjamb and looked around the bedroom that had once been hers many, many years ago. The cleaning crew that had finished making the whole house ready for a family's habitation had brought a new canopy for the bed and new frilly curtains for the windows. Remembering the clowns on the nightstand lamp in Ginger's room in California, she had found several other clown accessories for the room, and in a net halfway up the wall in a corner near the closet was an assortment of stuffed animals and dolls that would give her plenty of friends to play with until she had little girlfriends of her own from school to play with.
She brought up the memory of that little face as she had handed her back to Jarod just before getting on the plane and began stumbling through a disjointed prayer that her little girl would be much happier in this room than she had been.
"Mommy?" Davy's voice sounded from behind her in the hallway and made her turn.
"What, little man?"
"What time will they be here again?"
She sighed and put out an arm so she could draw him into her side. "Sometime in the afternoon," she told him gently. "A lot will depend on what time the plane leaves from California. Remember how long it took for us to get home?"
"Yeah." Davy remembered the trip well. "It was morning when we left, and it was almost nighttime by the time we got home again."
"Daddy said that he'd try to make it so that they were in the air by nine o'clock his time tomorrow morning," she informed him. "That means noon our time – and it's nearly six hours from California to here."
"Are Kevin and Deb and Grandpa going to come with us to the airport and get them when they get here?"
"I don't think so," she smiled down at her son. "Grandpa might come, maybe – but then again, a lot will depend on what time they get here. Grandpa's therapy machine needs to go until almost six, you know…"
"Is Daddy going to work at the Centre with you now?"
"Yes," she answered, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Why all the questions all of a sudden?"
"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders. "It just seems that I've been waiting for him to come back home for so long – and now that he's almost here, life seems to have changed so much. I'm just curious…"
"About what?"
"We're going to be a real family now, aren't we?" Davy asked in a small voice. "Daddy's not going to go away again, and Ginger will be with us from now on, right?"
"Yes, baby, we're going to be a real family now – with Daddy not going away for such a long time again and Ginger staying with us all the time. Does that bother you?"
"No," Davy answered truthfully. "It's just that I keep waiting for it to be a dream that I'll wake up from someday. I know you and Grandpa and Uncle Broots already were family – but…"
"I know what you mean," she told him understandingly. "When I was a little girl, and my Mommy had gone away forever, I can remember wishing that I could have my whole family back. This will be your first time with your whole family HERE – even your Grandma Maggie is coming with Daddy and Ginger, you know…"
"I know…"
"YOU need to think about getting ready for bed, Mister," she said with a slightly more energetic tone. "You're going to have a big day tomorrow – you have a softball game in the afternoon, and then your Daddy gets home – and you need your rest."
"I'm not really tired, Mommy…"
"I know you're not right now," Miss Parker ruffled his hair. "But you'll be glad you had the extra sleep later on."
Davy heaved a sigh and turned in the direction of his new room, which he still hadn't finished decorating yet. His head was just too full of plans and ideas to shut down easily – he knew that he'd just lay in bed thinking about all the different ways his life changed permanently in the next twenty-four hours.
Miss Parker watched Davy tromp listlessly to his room, understanding the excitement and expectations that would be keeping her son awake would most likely be keeping HER awake most of the night as well. She turned and extinguished the lights in Ginger's bedroom and closed the door with a sigh.
Tomorrow, she told herself silently. Tomorrow, she'd be tucking her daughter in as well as her son – and she'd have her love back at her side. Tomorrow, life DID change.
Again.
"Time to go — don't forget your present, Sprite," Jarod cautioned as he stood up and stretched. It was past Ginger's bedtime, but she'd enjoyed playing cars with Sammy for a change — the little boy had finally figured out he was losing his playmate and had actually behaved himself with her for a change.
Ginger obediently put all of the toys that she'd been playing with back in the plastic storage box where they belonged, then went looking for Bear in her dining chair where she'd left him guarding her princess dress. "Me got it, Daddy," she chirped as she brought both Bear and her box to her father.
Jarod stopped suddenly and then looked down at his daughter. "Say goodbye, Sprite," he told her gently. "You'll be leaving tomorrow and probably not seeing your Auntie and Uncles again for a while."
Ginger looked up at the faces of the adults that had become so important to her world, her eyes suddenly very big, very round and very sad. "Bye," she said in a very tiny voice.
This was something completely new to her. She had been removed from a total of three homes — three sets of parents — and never had she had the opportunity, much less the desire, to tell any of them goodbye. Leaving, for her, had been a forever thing — something that, once done, was never undone.
"C'mere, Mouse," Nathan called finally, and Ginger handed Bear and her box to her father to keep for her while she obeyed. The tall, blonde man crouched down and gathered his little niece close. "You be good for your Daddy, now, won't you?"
"Uh-huh," Ginger nodded against her Uncle's shoulder.
The moment Nathan had released her, Jay swooped down and caught her under the arms and swung her up into the air, making her squeak with surprise and delight. "And you take good care of your Grandma Maggie while she's staying with you, OK? I'll be counting on you…"
Ginger stretched back a bit to get a good look at the man who was her Daddy — but wasn't. "I promise," she swore solemnly, shooting a glance over at where her Grandma was hugging her Auntie goodbye while her Daddy shook hands with both of his younger brothers.
Then Ethan was holding his hands out for her, and she went to him and snuggled right down. "Me miss you, Ee-fan," she said very softly.
"You tell your Mommy hello from me, and give her this kiss." Ethan kissed her very gently on the cheek. "Promise me?"
Ginger nodded solemnly again, and then Ethan put her down. Emily walked over to her and readily accepted the arms around her waist that had become her niece's gesture of affection. "We'll see you when your Daddy gets married," she promised the little girl. "And until then, you take good care of yourself and Bear too."
"I will, Aunt Emmie." Ginger felt her father capture her one hand and give her back her Bear into the other. "G'bye." Her eyes caught at Sammy, standing behind his father's leg. "'Bye, Sammy."
"'Bye, Ginger," the little boy said softly. "'Bye, Grandma."
Jarod called out another set of good-byes of his own and then led Ginger from his sister's house, his mother walking sedately at his side. "What time do you want me ready to go?" Margaret asked, tucking her hand into her son's arm as they walked along.
"If we're ready to leave at eight, then we can be in the air by nine — which means we'll be almost on the ground again by six in the evening Eastern time. Do you want me to call you?" Jarod asked.
"No," Margaret shook her head. "I have a perfectly good alarm clock. Give me a call when you're ready to drive to the airport — but I'll be ready to leave at eight."
Jarod and Ginger paused in front of Margaret's house. "We'll see you in the morning, then," he said, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek.
"Sleep well, Sprite," she told her granddaughter as she bent to kiss her. "I'll see you in the morning."
"G'nite, Gamma," Ginger chirped and then watched Margaret head up her walk toward her house.
"Me no like g'byes," she commented as much to herself and Bear as anyone else.
"I know, Sprite," Jarod found himself agreeing with his daughter's opinion more than he'd expected. "Good-byes are no fun at all — but the hellos when you see them again will be extra nice."
"Promise?" Ginger looked up trustingly at her father.
"I promise, sweetheart," Jarod said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Just wait – you'll see."
"What?"
"It isn't even late at night," Jarod chided her gently.
"I'm just getting impatient," Miss Parker told him, putting her hairbrush down and carrying the cordless receiver over to her bed. "I want you home."
"I'll be there in less than twenty-four hours, Missy," he promised, rolling over and laying down on his bed on his back, one arm behind his head and the other hand holding the phone to his ear. "I'm getting impatient too — even though it was hard to say good-bye to everyone tonight. Em and Nathan announced that they're having another baby — due sometime in March, I believe…"
"I'll have to call Em and congratulate her," Miss Parker said in surprise. "I'm just sorry that they have to live all the way on the other side of the country."
"Em gave Sprite the prettiest dress — and told her it was for the wedding," Jarod announced with a smile on his lips at the thought. "And I've been bugged several times for a date. We'll have to start thinking about that pretty soon."
"As soon as you're home safe and sound, we'll start planning," she promised. "What color is Ginger's dress?"
"Pink — and it's really gorgeous, Missy. Is the jet on the ground here?"
"I got a call from the pilot at about eight my time to say that he was there. He'll have everything all fueled up and ready to go by about seven-thirty tomorrow morning — so you can get there anytime after that…" She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back from her face. "The sooner, the better, as far as I'm concerned."
"How's Sydney tonight?"
"Sleeping, I'd imagine," she informed him. "You were right — he didn't sleep well last night and he's a lot less than stable right now. I had to browbeat him a little bit, but he finally agreed to take the pain pill so he could get some rest — AND to accept your help in sorting through things to get his head screwed back on straight. He's fighting a mammoth case of the guilts, you know…"
"I'm not surprised," Jarod admitted. "We talked through a lot, but we didn't exactly get a chance to really settle EVERYthing. There are a lot of little things, I suppose — they do add up after a while." He thought for a bit. "Just how unsteady is he?"
"Hair-trigger temper, over-reacting to troubling situations, inability to sleep well…"
"Wonderful." Jarod's voice was under-impressed. "Something tells me that I'm going to have plenty to do without even setting foot at the Centre for a while.
"That's fine with me, Jarod," she told him firmly. "He's done so much to hold us all together lately — he deserves to get the lion's share of the attention for as long as he needs it. Besides, things seem to be calming down a bit now that most of the military men who were pushing us so hard to get things restarted again have been arrested for conspiracy and all kinds of other charges."
"I heard about that on the news tonight," Jarod commented slowly. "You folks seem to have things pretty well under control."
"I don't know that WE did anything," she exclaimed. "We just put the bug in a single man's ear — and he took care of it for us. Considering the way our luck has been running lately, this feels like it resolved just too damned easily. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall."
"Maybe your luck is changing," he remarked gently. "God knows, you deserve it…"
"We can only hope. Right now, all I know is that I want you HERE," she said in a soft and vehement tone. "I'm tired of not having your face in my face when I wake up in the morning — and I want to get to know this little girl who is to be my daughter a whole lot better."
"Hang on, Parker — it's just one more day…"
"One damned LONG day, Pez-breath."
"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "And I get to spend most of it cooped up in the company jet."
"I think I'm going to be spending most of it over at Sydney's, trying to keep him from losing his cool with Kevin and Deb again. We'll eat there tomorrow night, and then go home afterwards."
"That sounds good to me," Jarod sighed. "I love you."
"I love you too. I wish you were here already."
He started to chuckle. "You never were very good at practicing patience, were you?"
"Not when it came to things like this," she admitted, her chuckles joining his.
"No wonder you had an ulcer."
"No, THAT was because you kept giving me these incredibly vague and disturbing clues to things, and then not even saying goodbye before you hung up," she complained.
"Are you hinting?" he asked slyly.
"Not in the least," she answered haughtily. "Just get your ass home where it belongs, Jarod."
"I'm working on it, Missy — I'm working on it."
"Good night, Jarod."
"Good night. Sleep well."
"Not tonight, Wonder-boy. But thanks for the good wishes…"
"G'nite, Parker." Jarod hung up the phone and turned off the lamp on the nightstand.
He was ready to go home. It was time.
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