AN: Again many thanks to everyone who is reviewing and to everyone who is reading. For those reviewing: if I do not address some of the questions you have asked, it's not that I'm ignoring them or missed them it is simply because it would give away too much by responding.

For anyone who has already read this chapter and wondering why it says the story has been updated, it's because I did some editing after finding some errors that were bugging me. Changes do not affect the story at all.

Imag1ne: Thank you- my intent is to weave TWINE as seamlessly as possible into the Pretenderverse while exploring some of the many questions that were left unanswered throughout the course of the third and fourth seasons.

Gemini: Lyle is having second thoughts indeed- particularly about Cox.

Phi4858: Your comment about devils not staying in hell was perfect! Mr. Parker will be resurfacing soon and Parker and Lyle both will discover some unsettling things about their father… As for Jarod, I did originally intend for him to be in the previous chapter, but it was getting long and I was getting tired. So rather than tacking our favorite Pretender on at the end, I decided to give him more of this chapter.

LJP: Lyle is definitely living a double life that we will take a look as the story goes on. Lyle's comment about having trouble with his memory was more sarcasm than anything else… at least for now ;) Yes, we will see Mia's grandmother and brother again and learn more about the Micelli family. Is there JMPR? Well… yes and no. The overtones will certainly be there like they were in Tourniquet. Beyond that, I really can't say;)

For those wondering about Cox's dinner companion in the previous chapter, here's bit of a hint: the Greek origin of her name (MELPOMENE) and the Greek origin of the Project name (ARES) are significant.

Chapter occurs during "Rules of Engagement" in the fourth season. Sections marked + denote a scene from an actual episode.

Chapter 4: A New Career In A New Town

"It's official- we are the biggest morons," Sierra flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared at her co-workers. "Kip being the biggest one of all. It's been three days- I can't believe we're still talking about this! Amnesia my butt. We got conned, plain and simple."

"You do not know that," Kip shot back crossly. Kip didn't understand why his friends were tired of talking about Her, even if it had been three days since they had met Amelia. She was all he'd been able to think about and he felt that she should have been all they'd be able to think about as well.

Sierra stared at the crowd milling around the Park. Flags whipped in the air high above them. Birds sang, dogs barked, people laughed- all completely oblivious to her misery. The more time that passed the more she hated little Miss Amelia. For the past seventy-two hours that all she heard about- Amelia this and Amelia that. For over a year Sierra had been waiting for Kip to call her and when he finally did it was to talk about Amelia!

"Kip!" Anthony's voice rang out over the din of chatter. "We got any more water?"

"Yeah, man." Kip's handsome head disappeared briefly as he retrieved a new case from below the service counter. He ripped off the plastic covering and dumped the bottles on a tub of ice before returning to the conversation. "I'm telling you, she was afraid. That was no act and I know acting."

Sierra rolled her eyes in disgust. Kip liked to believe that he was an Academy Award waiting to happen. Usually, she agreed with him, but today she just thought he was an idiot. "If you're so worried about her," she said unpleasantly, "then do something. Track her down."

"Why would he do that?" Anthony wanted to know. Laid-back as always, Anthony was the one person unaffected by the whole Amelia drama.

"Kip here," her tone was derisive and mordant, "doesn't believe she knew the man who claimed her. And he refused to provide proof of his identity. So naturally, he's lying and she was kidnapped."

Kip's cheek stung with embarrassment- that was last time he would ever confide in Sierra.

"Whoa, there's a lot missing from your plot there, Kip," Anthony commented affably. "Why should this guy have to prove anything to you and why would you kidnap someone you don't know?"

"Either," Sierra answered for Kip, "you do know her and she's worth millions in ransom. Or you could care less who she is because you have depraved plans for her regardless."

Anthony was a bit taken aback by Sierra's delight. He didn't think anyone should be happy at the idea of depraved plans for someone regardless. "I think it would be hard to track her down, anyway," he shrugged. "We don't even know if she's from the City- she could be from anywhere."

"Brooklyn," Sierra remarked off-handedly.

The boys stared at her. "How do you know?" Kip snapped, still smarting from her earlier betrayal.

"Her accent," she said defensively. "East Coast for sure and it sounded very Brooklyn-ish." Sierra had always had a knack for languages and accents. That knack had gotten her cast as Eliza Doolittle in her senior year high school production of My Fair Lady as she was the only one who could convincingly pull off a Cockney accent. Plus her job in the tourist industry allowed her to continually hone that skill.

Anthony could practically see the wheels turning in his friend's head fueled by Sierra's observation and it concerned him. Kip was taking this far too seriously. Now Anthony enjoyed drama as much as the next actor but he preferred his drama on the stage. He glanced at Sierra but she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Why you would bother with the Mystery Girl anyway?" He tried to make the situation seem absurd. "I mean aside from her physical perfection and beauty?"

"I'm in love with her," Kip said with so much fervor that Anthony was convinced that Kip believed what he said.

Sierra wanted to scream. And hit something- preferably Kip. I can't take this! She fumed inwardly. He thinks he's in love with a girl he knows nothing about!

"You can't just pick a girl out of the crowd and make her your one true love just because she's beautiful," Sierra cried. "It doesn't happen, Kip! In case you've failed to notice, life is not a fairy tale!"

"Well, actually it does," Anthony pointed out, for reasons irrelevant to the current situation. "It happened to my parents."

"Shut up!" Sierra shrieked at him, unable to contain her frustration. "No one cares about your parents!" Anthony looked wounded.

"Both of you," Kip hissed suddenly aware that their conversation was drawing the attention of the crowd. "This is serious," he proclaimed. "I'm serious even if you don't think I am. I can't let this go until I'm sure she's safe."

"So go to the police," Anthony, ever practical, suggested.

"And tell them what? What that the purported husband of the girl I'm in love with who has amnesia took her away? Come on- if I can't even get my friends to take me seriously how am I going to get the police to take me seriously?"

"Then what do you propose to do?"

"I'll find her myself," Kip said, convinced of his ability to shoulder the endeavor. "I do have the phone number that she dropped."

"That fell out of her pocket," Anthony corrected him. "She did not drop as an SOS to you, Kip. Don't delude yourself into thinking she did. For all we know, it's the number of a New Jersey Laundromat."

Kip scowled at Anthony, but said nothing.

Still fuming, Sierra jumped back into the conversation with a vengeance. "Go on then, Kip," she fired at him. "If you're so convinced she's your destiny, then call that number and find her. Whatever it takes, right? Anything worth having is worth fighting for, isn't it? Take the risk!"

Why am I encouraging him? She wondered despairingly, even though she already knew the answer. It's because I love the drama and the romance of mystery and adventure! I love it so much I'll give up anything for it. Even Kip!

"Sierra, you're absolutely right!" Kip's eyes glazed over with excitement for he thought Sierra was in his corner and did not see the devastated expression on her pretty face. "What Amelia needs is a hero- namely me." His shoulders flexed involuntarily at the prospect of adventure that lay before him.

A snicker of mockery escaped Anthony's lip and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, but it did little to contain the laughter. Kip glared at him. "She's already got a hero, Kip," Anthony went out, wiping tears from his eyes. "And one who's probably a billionaire. Did you see the suit he wearing? Or the car they got into? Or the size of the rock on her finger? You really think she's gonna leave him, amnesia or not, for some concession-selling, Mel Gibson wannabe?"

Kip ignored Anthony's reality check- he was already devising his play in his mind.

"Even if you did find her," Sierra said, having resigned herself to the fact the she had shot herself in the foot where Kip was concerned, "She did get into the car willingly- there are a ton of people who witnessed that. She doesn't want to be rescued. And I'm sure her husband doesn't want her to be rescued."

Kip didn't like to be reminded of the one major obstacle in his grand plan- the fact that his dream girl was married. "Do we have proof of the marriage?" he wanted to know. "I never saw a ring."

"His left hand was in his pocket," said Anthony, who now growing weary of the conversation and of Kip. "So unless someone in the crowd had x-ray vision I doubt anyone else saw it, either. Doesn't mean it wasn't there."

"But what if the reason his hand was in the pocket was because there was no ring? What if I confronted him and told him someone else was looking for her? Then he'd have to show me proof!"

"No," Anthony retorted. "Whoever he is, he's important. And important people are busy people- they don't have time for nosy college kids who demand proof of their marriages. And I'll remind you again- you don't know who the guy is or where they live."

Kip pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. On the paper was a long phone number. The paper had wormed its way out of his future bride's pocket as she got into the luxury car with her ostensible husband. Kip had retrieved it, clinging to it as a sign that Fate had meant them to be together. He was still working on his script, perfecting it, rehearsing it- otherwise he would have called that number already.

"I can find out soon enough."

"Crazy," Anthony pronounced. He turned away shaking his head to tend to their neglected customers. "Plum daft."

Kip did not hear him as a scene was coming together in his head. I know what I'll do. I'll call and say that a handsome Hollywood actor is in the City searching for his fiancé who didn't show up for their wedding rehearsal. I'll say he had a picture of her and she looked just like the person who was claimed as his wife. But I need a name. What name I will give to the supposed fiancé of the fictional actor who is looking for her?

Kip stretched his tall frame as he worked out the details of his script. He took a deep breath and his fitted t-shirt stretched with the inhalation. Sierra, who was watching him, sighed morosely drawing his attention.

That's it! I'll say her name is Sierra. It's easy to remember.

"Whatever you're thinking," Anthony said as he salted a pretzel for a customer. "Don't do it. There is something very wrong with this picture. You do not want to be in it."

Kip grinned a thoroughly delighted grin. His mind was made up; Anthony could see it in his eyes. "What I want is to be in Amelia's picture," he said resolutely. "As soon as we close up for the day I am calling that number."

Anthony looked to Sierra's emotional eyes with an intense worry in his own.

"What?" she asked, picking up on his apprehension.

"We can't let him do this," he told her softly. "I have a bad feeling about this whole thing."

"A premonition?"

"Maybe..."

Fletcher Ridge, Illinois

"It's your fault we missed him."

He turned an infuriated glare on her. Her recent vanishing acts had cost them precious time on the Jarod pursuit and ultimately cost them the Pretender himself who was gone before they arrived on the scene of his latest pretend. He was angry, very angry. Angry she wouldn't let him in on what was going on- something he strongly suspected that had to with their father; angry that Sydney and Broots impeded his search for his sister by withholding information from him; and angry that he was the one who was going to be in hot water with their African superiors for the screw up that was, for once, not his fault.

Parker looked away from him. She stared at something in the distance that he could not see. She knew Jarod's escape was her mistake, but there was no way to avoid it. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Parker had chosen her father over Jarod, but now she wasn't sure she had made the right choice.

Don't tell anyone, understand? Someday when I have more time I'll explain everything to you. The key is still Jarod- bring him back and everything will be just as it was…

Her father's word still echoed in her mind. The more they tolled, the more she doubted her decision.

…I'll explain everything to you… Yeah, right, she thought, that's just code for I'll never explain…

"You're going to be held accountable for this, Parker."

Her brother's voice jerked her back to reality. He was infuriated with her and rightly so. She turned a hollow gaze to him and nodded. "I know." Regaining her composure, she turned away from him completely. "Let's go."

Her response was not what he anticipated and wordlessly, Lyle followed her back to the car along with Sydney and Broots. There was an odd silence that encompassed the four as they made the trip back to the airstrip where a Centre plane awaited them. Broots, from his place in the backseat with Sydney, watched the Parker twins nervously. Inwardly, he prayed that the drive would pass uneventfully, but he could tell by the look on Lyle's face that that would not be the case. +

His teeth ground hideously together as Pressure and Worry perched weightily on his shoulders and dug their talons into his back. The pressure on him from the Triumvirate to capture Jarod was nothing compared to the pressure they put on him to find Mr. Parker. It seemed as though his father was more the prize than Jarod these days and he did not know why. The worry was hitting him from every facet of his existence it seemed. And Amelia added a new dimension to his stress; he was required to hand her over to Cox while he joined the excursion to Illinois. His glance slid to his sister then back to the scene on the other side of the window. At times, he wished that he could tell her about Amelia and about his suspicions about Cox and Raines. But pig would sooner fly than that would happen. After all, why should he trust her with something of that magnitude when she wouldn't trust him with the smallest insignificances? No, he would not be the first to weaken. So he said rather coldly and accusatorily to her, "I can't believe you let this happen."

She gave him a sharp side-glance, saying nothing. Her mind went back to filtering frenzied uncertainties and prioritizing the anxieties by order of most critical. Like her brother, her energy was divided and drained from all the worry and stress she was under. Subconsciously, she held her breath waiting for a vicious remark from him and began to prepare a rebuttal, but the barb never came. A second glance at him revealed that he was submerged in his own private trouble, none of which he bothered to share with her. He slouched in his seat and covered his mouth with his good hand. She wondered why he looked so spent, but did not linger long on the thought as her overworked psyche determined that the curiosity was not high priority and dismissed it.

"Parker!" Lyle suddenly sat up.

"What!"

"You missed the turn for the airfield."

Realizing that he was correct, Parker swore, slammed on the brakes, and made a u-turn in the middle of highway garnering several expletives from her brother.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?"

"I'm turning the car around, moron. What does it look like?"

He swore again. "Someone ought to revoke your driver's license."

"Shut up, okay!"

The eerie silence returned to the interior of the vehicle. Broots turned to Sydney with a fearful look. Sydney only sighed. Checking to make sure his seat belt was securely fastened, Broots was no longer worried about having an uneventful ride; he justwanted to reach their destination in one piece.

Even though he had secured quite a bit of distance between himself and his pursuers, Jarod could not breathe until he had plane ticket in hand. O'Hara International was as crowded and as busy as downtown Chicago or so it seemed to Jarod. He was finding it incredibly difficult to maneuver the throng of people without stepping on someone's toes, both literally and figuratively. He spent a considerable amount of time apologizing to people as he tried to go against the flow of the crowd in order to get to the appropriate gate and soon found it simpler and less offensive to just go with the current. The only problem with that was that it cost him a great deal of time.

At the gate, a distempered line of passengers and an equally unpleasant gate attendant greeted him. Humbly, he handed her ticket and was trying to lighten her day by making small talk when she rudely cut him off.

"This isn't your gate," she snapped, shoving the ticket back at him.

Dumbfounded, Jarod tried to point out to her that he was, indeed, at the right place, but the attendant would hear none of it. She directed him to the next closest gate before turning her attention to the others in line who were none too happy with Jarod for holding up boarding.

With a sigh, Jarod tried to double-check the ticket as the human river pushed him along. He was still trying to verify the gate number when he reached the next attendant.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, holding the ticket out to the even more unpleasant attendant. "I was told by the lady at first gate I went to that-"

"Do you have any carry-on luggage?" Obviously, the man could have cared less what someone else had told him. He took the ticket without looking at it and hurried Jarod on his way. Once on the plane, he took the seat he was directed to and settled in for the long flight to Charlotte, North Carolina.

Taking out the red notebook fromhis most recent pretend, Jarod smiled drowsily, satisfied that all was going to turn out all right for the family. With Fletcher Ridge now a swiftly distant memory, Jarod slipped into a dream-laden slumber. In one particularly peculiar dream, his greatest fear came to fruition as Miss Parker had caught him and was taking him back to the Centre. The peculiar part of the dream that Jarod could make no sense out of was what she said to him:

"We will be arriving at JFK International in ten minutes. Please fasten your safety belts."

"I thought you were taking me back to the Centre," he murmured as he entered the edges of consciousness.

"We will be arriving at JFK International in ten minutes. Please fasten your safety belts." It was not Parker's voice that spoke this time.

Huh?

Suddenly, Jarod sat bolt upright. The man sitting next to him snickered. "Glad to see you up, sonny," he chuckled. "Thought you were dead there for a while, you been out so long."

"Where are we?" He was disoriented from his abrupt wake up.

"Humph," the man folded his newspaper back. "You are out of it, aren't you? We're getting ready to land at JFK."

Jarod, his head now clear, frowned, seriously confused… and concerned. "In New York City?"

The man shrugged. "Only JFK I know of… though I guess technically it's in Queens."

Jarod squeezed his eyes tightly shut and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Something the matter, son?"

He opened his eyes again and sat back. "I'm suppose to be in North Carolina," he explained with a sheepish smile.

"Whoa, did you make a wrong turn! Better pay more attention to your surroundings, boyo. You get into serious trouble if you don't."

You don't have to tell me twice. His thoughts drifted to the Centre and he suppressed the urge to shudder.

"Hope you find where you're going," the man waved to Jarod as they parted ways once inside the terminal.

Jarod waved his goodbye and gratitude before turning to face the sea of people around him looking for some direction.

Question is- where do I go from here?

"You failed the simulation, Melpomene." A very unhappy Cox paced the floor in front of his subject. His intense eyes sparked blue fire. "This is not acceptable. Mistakes are not an option!"

She lifted her chin hesitantly. Strands of hair hung haphazardly in her face. Her whole body was drenched in sweat and her bare arms and face were streaked with dirt. "I can't do it. I cannot do what you want me to do."

Cox pressed his lips into a harsh line. The muscles of his jaw tightened as he tried to quell his anger. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm not a killer. I can't do it! No amount of training will change that!"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Several deep breaths later, Cox opened his eyes. His features and posture were relaxed and calm. He smiled enticingly. The change was terrifying. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest.

With slow deliberation, Cox approached her, still smiling. He placed his hands on the table on either side of her and leaned in until he touching her nose with his. She could smell the leather of his coat mingled with the aroma of his cologne. She held her breath.

"The moment I believe that, Melpomene," his voice was not angry in the slightest; it was smooth and devoid of all emotion. "It's over. You are over. Understand?"

Unable to look away from that hypnotic, evil stare, she nodded timidly. His smile widened and took on a secretive air.

"Good girl," he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Now let's get on with your new assignment."

As she slid off the table to follow him, she lost her balance and landed clumsily on the floor. She recovered before he noticed the slip, but the tumble had shaken something loose. A phrase in a language she didn't know she spoke, but that she must for she knew what it meant: Trasportili dalla malvagità; Trasportili dal centro.

He was wandering through Strawberry Fields in Central Park with a Nathan's Famous hotdog in hand. The unexpected detour to the City gave him the opportunity to do a little sight seeing before moving on. While Strawberry Fields was an amazingly beautiful place with a variety of fascinating places to explore, Jarod was puzzled by the name for he had yet to see any strawberry fields. He stopped at a vending cart to buy a bottle of water and was served by a melancholy young man.

"Can I help you?" Sad eyes looked out at him from behind white-blonde hair.

"Water, please," Jarod replied, taking note of the boy's deportment. His server sighed, frowned slightly, but did not move. Not being in any particular hurry at the moment, Jarod tried to engage the young man in conversation. "You know, maybe you can help me," he said, looking around. "I'm a little confused. I know this place is called Strawberry Fields,yet I can't help but notice that there are no strawberry fields."

The boys actually smiled, remembering that he had made the same mistake when he took his first trip to Central Park. "It's named after the John Lennon song Strawberry Fields Forever. There aren't actually any strawberry fields."

"Oh." Jarod nodded with a smile that instantly evaporated into another confused look. "John Lennon?"

The server gave him an amused look. "Not from around here are you?"

Jarod shook his head. "No. My name's Jarod, by the way."

"Kip," he answered. "Sorry about the water. I'll get it right away."

"Inoticed," Jarod commented geniallywhen Kip returned with the bottle of water. "That you seemed troubled when I came up. Anything wrong?"

Kip shrugged. "Yeah, I, uh," he paused wondering what he should tell the man. "I lost my girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Jarod said, handing Kip a five-dollar bill. "Breakups can be really tough."

"Yeah, but we didn't break up."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"She, um," Kip frowned as he handed Jarod his change. He didn't like lying to anyone, but he didn't know how else to explain a rather bizarre situation. "She was suffering from temporary amnesia. I was trying to figure how it happened when this guy showed up and took her."

"Took her?"

"Yeah, he claimed that he knew her, but I'd never met him before." Kip was beginning to slip into his character now- that of the heartbroken boy searching for his stolen love.

"Where is she now?" This tale had certainly piqued Jarod's interest and his sympathy. Already he was beginning to formulate how to help the young man.

"I don't know," he said with a forlorn shrug, "I've been trying to track her down, but it's been hard to do without help."

Jarod paused thoughtfully. "Well, maybe I can be of some service."

"You a Private Investigator?" A new obstacle had been thrown into his script, but Kip knew how to improvise.

"I have been in the past," Jarod responded with a cryptic smile.

"Well, look," Kip was practically drooling with excitement over this new twist and the prospect of actually finding Amelia. "I don't get off until eight. Can you meet me here so we can discuss this further?"

"I'll be here," Jarod said with a friendly smile.

"Who was that?" Anthony asked as he and Sierra returned from their break.

Heshrugged it off. "Just some guy who's never heard of John Lennon."

Kip was on edge for the rest of their shift, but he wasn't babbling about Amelia so his coworkers left him alone. However, with three hours until his next meeting with Jarod, Kip could bare it no longer and excused himself for a break. He sprinted to the nearest pay phone and with trembling hands took the paper from his pocket and dialed the number on it. His heart pounded so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the clamor of the City around him. Nervous sweat trickled down his face; he was starting to panic. The phone rang several times and Kip started to relax, believing no one would answer. Then he heard a click. His heart almost stopped.

"Mr. Lyle's office, this is Lucy- how may I direct your call?"

He tried to remember the carefully studied script he had concocted, but his mental faculty fled him. He froze.

"Hello?"

Kip slammed the receiver down and darted back to his vending booth, having decided to wait on Jarod before pursuing his dream girl.