AN: Well, I'm very glad to see that everyone enjoyed the little confrontation between the men. With that over and done with, we'll be heading deep into the heart of this new monster. Not only will the central characters uncover a series of strange happenings occurring in the Centre that will demand their attention, equally unsettling events in their personal lives will have to be dealt with.

Imag1ne: We'll find out soon enough if Kip's been shaken awake or, at the very least, driven into therapy. ;)

LJP: Mia will certainly get an up close and personal study of each of Lyle's face, that's for sure; including insight into those rather disturbing secrets that Miss Parker and company have uncovered/will uncover.

NYT: Thank you so much for such a high compliment. It means a lot to me coming from a teacher! I did consider teaching high school English, but I'm just not suited to deal with kids that age... I'm in my element when surrounded by little kids. Lol.

koolcaz: Those spoilers are going to start coming up very soon... :)

Gemini: At this point, the only thing that can drive Mia away is Lyle himself. That being said, there is no guarantee that he won't end up doing just that. And don't forget what happened to Lyle's first wife... ;)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lyrics by Sarah Brightman

Chapter 12: Troubling Discoveries

'Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." - Germaine Greer

Everything was back to normal or so he tried to pretend. His physical wounds, though still tender and sore, were healing on their own. There was, however, the troubling questions that still nagged at his mind about the whole series of events that had lead to his injuries. Jarod had been of no help clarifying anything; the man's best advice had been to forget the whole incident and not to so readily trust strangers or chase after girls he knew nothing about.

Kip sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never understand what had happened or ever see Amelia again. In a way, he was relieved as he now realized he much preferred his drama on the stage where it belonged and not in his personal life. On the other hand, he grieved the loss of his dream girl knowing he would never meet another like her.

The wind kicked up and Kip quickened his pace. Darting across the street, he made his way down to the subway. The station was crowded as it always was and getting lost in the throng was simple as was being misdirected. He let out a heavy sigh and got on the first train that came by without noticing where it was bound.

Collapsing wearily into a recently vacated seat, Kip massaged his aching jaw. His body still felt as though it had been run through a ringer- he couldn't wait to get home and sink into pain-free sleep. On the other hand, his sleep as of late had hardly been restful; he was often arrested by macabre incubus which left him exhausted and sweat soaked. In every nightmare the same electric, malevolent blue eyes and thumbless hand stalked him after he succumbed to the allurement of Amelia.

Though a part of him ached at the thought of never beholding her image again, he unequivocally never wanted to see her again, for to see her again would be to see him again. Kip shuddered inwardly and he suddenly recalled a lecture from his classical mythology course. It struck him that Amelia could be likened to Persephone who was kidnaped by Hades and taken to his underworld and made queen of the dead.

In an attempt to pry his thoughts from the morbid, Kip turned to people watching until his stop. Several minutes later, the train lurched to a halt. Pushed forward by the current of the crowd, Kip struggled to maneuver his way out while avoiding those coming in. Despite his valiant effort, he ended up slamming into someone just outside of the train.

"Hey, man," he said quickly, stooping to help the person retrieve his belongings from the ground before they snatched up by some opportunist. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No problem," was the nonchalant, heavy Brooklyn-accented reply.

As Kip went to reclaim the man's dropped wallet, he saw that it had fallen open. In the clear plastic inserts alongside various cards, she stared up at him with her stormy gray eyes.

Ashen, Kip stared up at the man whose black hair fell into those same gray eyes. Backing away from the other as though he were a dangerous snake, his stomach churned with vile.

Forgoing any further subway travels, Kip turned and ran, leaving the befuddled young man behind. He continued running until he was back in the safety of his own housing.

Stuck inside this room, digging in my heels the paint is stuck on the walls, but it's starting to peel...

It was as though everything that occurred in New York City had not. Whenever she attempted to discuss, Kip or Jarod or anything at all, he would look at her like she was delusional and comment that the sooner she saw Sydney the better. It was unbelievably frustrating; Amelia felt she could get more dialogue out of a horse.

She flipped absently through the channels on the television in the living room. Her attention kept wandering to the Asian decor that accented the room. She hated it; there was no explanation for harboring such strong feeling against harmless decorations, the sentiments simply existed. And they followed her throughout the apartment; there was no escape from it- the entire interior design of the place consisted of ornaments from the Orient. She would have liked nothing more than to shatter the grinning Buddha that sat atop the TV into dust and dispose of the remains in the fireplace. It was only out of respect for her husband that she left the infuriating object where it was.

Lyle came in sometime later and disappeared without saying anything to her. She sighed pettishly and glared at the television. Her channel-surfing halted on an episode of "Divorce Court" where a woman was complaining about a lack of communication from her husband, among other strange oddities, and Amelia found herself sympathizing with the her. Lyle never wanted to talk to her about anything at all, not even the most trivial of things. On rare occasions, he would allow her a glimpse into his tormented soul, but would soon after shut down completely. She often felt that he resented her because she could not remember details about him or their life together and that he even blamed her for her amnesia. There was no way she could know if her feeling were accurate or not- asking him was pointless. With a jab at the remote, she flipped away from the program.

But maybe it's your vanity, maybe it's your skin... Well, I'm thinking, I'm thinking your cover's wearing thin...

When Lyle returned from his office near the bedroom, he confiscated the remote from her and turned the televison off.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked shortly.

She blew her bangs out of her eyes with an aggressive puff. "Yes."

"And what are the things you are not discuss in your session?"

"Jarod, Kip, New York," she checked off the list with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes. "My visits to Cox and us."

"Specifically," he demanded. "What about us?"

"That we're married."

"Good girl," he smiled tightly, patting her knee as one would pet a dog that had successfully performed a trick. "Now give me your rings."

"What?" she gawked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me."

He looked at her sharply. There was no humor in his features. "You heard me- give me the rings."

Cause everybody wants a piece of you... You don't give much, but when you do you're nobody's friend; you're nobody's fool... Tell me- it must be tough to be that cool ..

Stubbornly, she folded her arms over her chest, hiding her left hand from him. "No," she told him defiantly. "Not until you tell me why."

The muscles of his jaw tightened; he was clearly at the end of his patience. "Fine," he ground out. "Don't you think Sydney might ask you about the rings? If you're married? And if you can't talk about us, then what are you going to tell him?"

"Fine," she harrumphed unhappily, sliding the precious metal off of her finger. She glanced at him uncertainly. "Will I get them back?"

Lyle looked at her blankly. "Why wouldn't you?"

She shrugged despondently and mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"What?" he frowned and leaned forward. "I didn't hear you." He paused, then added. "And speak English."

"I said," she over enunciated the words. "That you don't ever want anything to do with me."

The remark took him momentarily aback. "That's not true," he snapped defensively and pulled away from her. "Why would we have gotten married if it was, huh?"

"I wouldn't know," she barked irritably. "I haven't a clue why we got married."

Another notch on your belt, another new pair of shoes, another sidewalk show- where did you get that suit?
Did you think I was waiting or were you just testing me?

Tension swelled, driving the wedge deep between them. Finally, Amelia could no longer contain what had been troubling her for so long.

"Are you still in love with her?"

Nothing else she could have said could have left him as dumbfounded as that did. He felt like he'd been hit with a wrecking ball.

"Who?" He struggled to make sense of her accusation.

"Her... your first wife."

He was too thunderstruck with the bizarre turn the conversation had taken to think clearly. "Wha.. Who- you mean Shei Ling?"

She nodded.

Lyle threw his hands up in disgust and flopped against the back of the couch. "Oh, sure- that you remember!"

"Well, are you?"

"No!" he responded emphatically, though still a bit bewildered. "Of course not. Stop being ridiculous."

She was silent for a moment. "You were though."

His confoundment turned to anger. "Look," he hissed barbarously. "I've told you all about Shei Ling once before- every last sickening detail. If you're so desperate to know about my feeling towards her then you'd better get your memory back quick because I am not going to relive that again!"

You're gonna come up empty, come out angry, come out alone... Well, I should be more forgiving- there's a soul down there... I can hear it crying, but I can't find it anywhere...

Silence returned. She bit her bottom lip savagely, trying hold back tears.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked out.

After a glance at her remorseful face, he softened slightly and reached for her hand. "Believe me when I say I never think about Shei Ling." He ran a finger under her jaw and tilted her chin up so that she had to look him in the eyes. "Never."

She nodded slightly.

"And I promise that you'll get your rings back."

It must be tough to be that cool...

She sat on the edge of her seat with rigid posture; she had not relaxed even slightly since she arrived, though she claimed to be perfectly at ease. Worry lined her young face making her look fifteen years older than she was and dark circles under her pale gray eyes added to the aged look. Every so often her thin, trembling right hand lifted to her forehead and massaged her temple before drifting back to her left hand and absently toying with her ring finger, following the tan lines that encircled the digit.

Sydney quietly watched this behavior with interest, noting that it never ceased, not even with the most benign of questions. "Amelia?"

"Wha-" she glanced up suddenly as though he had startled her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. What did you ask?"

"I just asked if there was anything else you remember. Anything at all."

"No, I-" her faced scrunched up in a pensive frown. Her gaze transfixed on a distant spot as her eyes moved back and forth as though reading unseen print. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he soothed. "It's all right if you don't remember anything else."

"Well, maybe I-" her voice fell off as the frown on her face deepened.

That was her typical response to his questions. Initially, he had asked her just to talk about anything she wished to, but that request seemed to put tremendous stress on her, as she seemed uncertain of what he expected of her. To help her along, he asked simple questions which turned out to be equally nerve-racking for her and revealed an inconsistent pattern in her answers. On basic topics such as family, Amelia responded confidently on what she remembered after careful thought. On other topics, however, such as Lyle, the responses were vague and clearly scripted. He believed she was truly suffering from severe memory loss, but he also believed that there were things she did remember but had been instructed not to reveal.

Why? What purpose would that serve? He wondered litigiously. Lyle had come to him for help and then coached Amelia on what to say? Why? It made no sense.

Another quandary that was presented to him was the amnesia itself. The original bouts of fugue that Amelia suffered when he first met her were induced by the Serum activated sub-personality. Once Jarod's Antidote had been administered that problem was remedied by all reports. Sydney found it difficult to believe that Jarod's counterpoison had failed; it was a concept his mind could not wrap itself around. The only other possible explanation was that something was interfering with the antidote's ability to work.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said finally in a thin voice. "I really am." She paused and for the first time held eye contact with him. "There's just nothing else I can say."

Sydney got the impression the that there was a double meaning to the apology. "That all right, Amelia," he assured her with a warm smile. "Don't force any recollection; let them come naturally."

She nodded distractedly, still rubbing her left ring finger.

His smile tightened a bit as he hid his concern behind it. "I think we'll end things here for today. Get some rest and try not to worry too much about this."

She gave him a frail smile as a frown flickered across her features.

Sydney stepped outside his office to meet an restive, impatient Lyle. The younger man shot him a critical look as walked up to him sans Amelia.

"Well?" Lyle snapped expectantly.

He crossed his arms over chest, immediately put-off by the other man' abrasive attitude. Intently, he studied Lyle wondering what secrets he was hiding.

"Well!" Lyle's patience was wearing thin. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing," was the cool reply.

Lyle brow lifted in suspicion. "Nothing?" Sarcasm bled through the word. "Why not?'

"I was hoping you would answer that question," Sydney responded levelly, taking note of Lyle's reactions.

"Excuse me?" There was a dangerous edge to the younger man's voice.

"I don't know why you are surprised, Lyle," Sydney told him out right. He knew he had to choose his words carefully; he did not want to risk his son's life by letting his choler with Lyle get the best of him. "It's clear that you told her not to discuss certain things that she remembers. How do you expect me to get to the bottom of this when I don't even know what she does remember?"

Lyle inhaled deeply as he mulled over the conundrum "I can't trust you," he stated flatly.

Sydney curbed the urge to roll his eyes. "Then why did you come to me in the first place, Lyle?" He demanded in exasperation as ire rose in his tone. "Why?" At the dark look that welled in Lyle's glare, he pause to collect himself. "You were right," he said, attempting to reason with an unreasonable man. "Jarod's antidote isn't working the way it was designed to. It's possible that something is interfering with it."

"And?"

"And if Amelia or you know what might be causing the interference withholding that information is poor judgement if you expect me to help her."

"Do I detect a threat in that statement, Doctor?" he smile scornfully.

Sydney glared at him. "It you won't work with me then there is no point in continuing these sessions.

As he turned away, Lyle caught him in a death grip by the upper arm. "Don't forget about dear Nicholas," he hissed virulently. "If you want him back...alive, then you'd better remember your place and do everything you can to fix this!"

With a firm tug, the doctor pulled out of the man's grasp. "All right," he avowed, defeated.

He watched Lyle lead Amelia off and sighed wearily. His thoughts were not on the situation or Amelia; they were on his son.

Broots had to jog to keep up with his boss. Parker was dead set on finding out what Sydney was hiding from them- from her- and strode down the hall at pace that would have rivaled a Kenyan runner's.

It wasn't that Broots was not curious about his colleague's new project; he just didn't think it was any of their business. However, Parker thought otherwise primarily because without Sydney's help their search for Jarod was dead in the water. Sydney's unofficial withdrawal from the Pretender Retrieval was troublesome to Broots as was Lyle's apparent involvement it and he certainly wanted to help Sydney if he was trouble, as Parker suggested. He simply hadn't seen anything that implied their friend was in trouble and he did not want to create trouble, which he felt confident was what their investigation would cause.

On a collision course with Parker was none other than her brother. Both siblings were headed for each other at the same rapid, impatient gait with their brows furrowed and their eyes set on their respective goals; it was the same look on different faces and it gave away their relationship to one another.

By the time Broots noticed the approaching twins and called a warning to Parker, it was too late. The siblings had already slammed into each other and looked prepared to go to war. Broots cringed as the onslaught of anger exploded from the them upon impact- the same words ripping from different voices. It struck Broots as amusing how they were as similar as they were different. However, Broots valued his life and was not about to share this tidbit with anyone, except perhaps Sydney.

While the two continued to make a spectacle of themselves, Broots glanced around to see who was watching them and saw Sydney disappearing around a corner without so much as glancing at the feuding twins.

"Hey, Syd!" the technician called and without thinking, stepped around Parker and Lyle.

The hallway became disastrously still.

Broots became aware that two pairs of icy blue eyes were staring at him. He turned at looked at them. Feeling that an explanation was in order, he offered, "I just thought of something funny I wanted to tell Sydney."

Lyle glared at him and Parker glared at Lyle. A moment later, they glared at each other; Parker push past Lyle in the same instant he pushed past her. With a final shove, Lyle departed and Parker caught up with Sydney.

"What's so funny, Chuckles?" Parker snapped at Broots as she blocked the doctor's path of escape.

"Um," Broots floundered briefly; he wasn't about to mention his observation to her as he knew she would find it anything but humourous. "It really wasn't that funny."

Parker rolled her eyes and turned her focus onto Sydney.

"Hey, Syd," she cooed through a false smile. "How've you been lately?"

"Just fine, Miss Parker," he answered warily. He glanced quizzically at Broots who avoided looking at him. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"I'll bet you do." Surprisingly, she let him go without further ado.

Broots hurried after Parker as she took off again. "Why didn't you ask Sydney anything?" he wondered aloud.

"Because I don't have that kind of time to waste," she said, pulling him into her office.

Once inside the room, Parker locked the door and pointed to her desk where Broots' computer was set up.

"Sit," she instructed.

Broots sat down and booted up the data processor with a distressed look on his face. Parker shot him an annoyed look as she stood behind him.

"You looked like you just swallowed a bug," she said flatly. "What's wrong?"

Broots' frown deepened. "I just don't like this, Miss Parker," he told her. "It's not right going into Sydney's records like this."

Parker's brow raised.

"It's an invasion of privacy," Guilt pushed him to continue. "It's... it's unethical!"

"Yeah, and keeping secrets isn't very nice either," she huffed, leaning over his shoulder. "Now search."

Muttering to himself, Broots did as he was told. The ringing of the phone took her attention off of his maundering.

Parker snatched the phone off of her desk with an nettled expression. "What is it, Jarod?" she snapped into the receiver.

'Why, Miss Parker," the Pretender's smooth voice flooded the earpiece, "How did you know?"

"You were about due to annoy me," she answered, poking Broots to speed up his search. "Besides, my ulcer flares every time you call."

"I'm flattered."

She gritted her teeth against the smile in his voice. "Don't be," she snarled. "What do you want?"

"I'm curious," his voice darkened as he got down to business, "how is your brother doing?"

"Why don't you call and ask him? I bet he'd love to hear from you. Maybe you two could arrange to meet somewhere and chat over coffee."

"Yes, well, we've already had that chat," he said. "Just a few days ago actually."

"What?" Parker frowned, trying to catch anything that might prove he was teasing her. "What do you mean you met Lyle?"

"We met in New York through two mutual friends," he said grimly. "In fact, you know one of them."

Certain that he was being serious, Parker took the bait. "Who?"

"Amelia."

"You mean-" she paused as she processed the information. "I thought that was all over."

"So did I."

Parker was unusually quiet as the Pretender filled her in on his recent run-in with Lyle.

"Parker?" he asked uncertain if she was still on the line.

"I'm here."

"How's Sydney?" he ventured when she said nothing else.

"Good question," she said. "He's been too busy with a new patient to tell us."

The was a pause on the line. "Well, at least I'm not the only one who was given the brush-off," he murmured. Speaking up he asked, "What new patient?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out."

"I'll be in touch."

A click sounded in her ear and Parker tossed her phone back onto the desk.

"Miss Parker, I can't find anything out of the ordinary," Broots reported. "I don't think we're going to find anything."

"Keep looking," she said, pacing the floor. "Search the entire database for anything abnormal." She paused thoughtfully then added, "Syd better really have a new patient because if this is some sort of ruse..." she swore, "He'd better not be covering his hide because he's seeing some woman or the Centre will be looking for a new Freud!"

He hurried through the parking garage with a distressed look on his face. Pausing at the side of his Mercedes, he glanced about uneasily as he unlocked the door. Once he was locked safely within the vehicle, he let out a large breath, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and slumped over the steering wheel.

A pair of frigid azure eyes and a pair of internecine obsidian eyes watched him from the shadows.

"I wonder what our dear Mr. Lyle is so upset about?" There was a crisp edge of ridicule in the suave contralto voice that spoke.

A high pitched schoolgirl giggle rang out.

"Perhaps he is worried about the late Mutumbo's family," suggested the very young voice. "We all know what a caring man, Mr. Lyle is."

A deep chuckle join the giggling. "Or perhaps it's something more personal?"

"Oh, oh, trouble with the little woman, I'll bet."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, just this little thing that I found?"

The rustling of paper being exchanged infiltrated the silence for a bit, then an engine revved covering the voices.

"So," said the deep voice once the car had driven off, "Mr. Lyle is looking for proof of his marriage, is he?"

"Yes, he's been searching quite frantically for the past four days. He's even been neglecting the search for Jarod because of it."

"This will not do. His search may lead him to an area he should not be."

"What do we do?"

"We distract him," an oily smile coated the words. "Gogo, I want you to divert Mr. Lyle's attention. We know well his affinity for Asian cuisine, so use that to your advantage. He is not to get any more emotionally attached to the Project."

The schoolgirl laugh sounded again. "I shall very much enjoy taking him from Princess Mia."

"Yes," the voice took on a condescending tone. "Well, let's hope you can succeed. Your record in defeating her in simulation is not impressive."

Gogo hissed. "Yes, but this time we'll be playing on my terms."

"Oh, oh." Broots covered his mouth with his hand.

Parker was instantly next to him. "You find something on Sydney?"

"N-no," he said, unable to take his eyes off the monitor. "But I found her."

Parker frowned as she studied the picture of a very attractive, very young Asian girl. The side panel said her name was Kane Michiyo. "Who is she?"

"The girl I told you about, the one I ran into last week."

"Raines' new bodyguard?"

"That's her- Gogo or whatever."

"What's the rest of the file say?"

"Just Styx- there under her name. That's all there is to the file."

"Did you say Styx?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Styx was the river of Hades in Greek mythology. It's also the name of the Greek goddess of hate."

"So wh-," Broots' eyes widened as he made a possible connection. "So far we've run across a Project ARES, a Melpomene, and now a Styx..."

"Wanna bet they're all related?"

She was in middle of cooking dinner when he came home, slamming the doors behind him. She watched him disappear into his study and lock the door without saying a word to her. She sighed heavily and returned to her food preparations.

The visit to Sydney had been exhausting and had left her confused and disassociated from herself. She wanted help recovering her memory more than anything, but with the restrictions that had been placed on her, she didn't see how that would be possible. It was a shame, too, because she liked the doctor- he seemed so kind, so fatherly- that she wanted to talk to him, she just... couldn't.

To keep her mind off of the disturbing day, she had turned to cooking a dinner for two: pork chops alla pizzaiola, Italian chopped salad, sgroppina, and baked mashed potatoes with Parmesan cheese and bread crumb, and mocha semifreddo for dessert. She would have been happier fixing Lyle's favorite foods, but since he did not often talk to her, she wasn't even sure he liked Italian food. She did know that he preferred Oriental food as that was what he always brought home. She went ahead with her meal anyway because she did not know how to cook Chinese food and would not have even if she had.

Remarkably, he came to the table unsummoned and though morose was not as volatile as he been when he first came in. Dinner commenced in silenced and she grew increasingly vexed with his apathy. She played with the food on her plate until he finished eating, then rose and began to clear the table. When she went to take his plate, he caught her by the waist as he stood up and held tightly to her.

"That was good," he lauded so quietly that she almost didn't hear him. He took his plate and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her speechless at his seeming ability to read her mind- a word from him was all she wanted.

Once the dishes were done, Amelia went to bed early, too tired to watch the television shows she usually enjoyed. As usual, she went to bed alone.

A few hours passed before he felt it was safe to enter the bedroom. Her deep and steady breathing indicated that she was asleep. Gingerly, he climbed onto his side of the bed and stretched out next to her. He did nothing except watch her sleep. Her hair was spread to the side and hanging off the edge of the bed, a frown marred her doll-like features.

He knew he was on thin ice with her; he knew he had nearly blown it at dinner and had just barely recovered by complimenting her. He knew it wouldn't satisfy her. He knew she wouldn't put up with him forever. He knew...

He knew the marriage was a fraud. She wasn't his wife and never had been. It was a joke- a sick, twisted joke. He could see the jeering faces of Cox, Raines, and Lyle Bowman in the room with them, ridiculing him for his stupidity.

Somewhere, the voices add to the mocking.

His gaze drifted to her left hand that lay on her pillow palm up. The rings she had so desperately wanted back earlier in the day were not on her finger.

He panicked.

Then he began to plot.

He would have the last laugh- they weren't going to make a fool out of him. And he would have Amelia... one way or another.