An: There will be a lot packed into the next several chapters, so they will take longer to write. For those waiting for Parker and Jarod to come face to face, please be patient; it will happen and it will be good. It's just that Jarod is only on the periphery of what's brewing in the Centre as is Miss Parker. Until one of them figures out more of what's going on, Jarod won't be fully pulled in. ;)
Also, we'll see that Lyle speaks at least one Oriental language (still doing some research here). I'm mentioning this because it is not cannon in the series. We saw in "A Stand Up Guy" that he needed an interpreter in order to communicate with Tanaka. Then later, it was established that Lyle had spent a good of time in the Orient ("Year of Agent Zero", other episodes). I find it difficult to believe that he would not have, at the very least, picked up some of the language. According to the series, he spoke fluent German, but it didn't seem as though he had much use for it. Unless of course he got stationed at Centre Ops in Germany when he was younger- who knows? Anyway . . .
Hope everyone's Thanksgiving was good. :)
Gemini: Thanks, I did have a good Thanksgiving. I'm glad you like the way I'm writing the Parker twins. Look for more confrontations and sibling rivalry coming soon.
NYT: Ah, it's good to that you feel for Lyle. I see a lot of parallels between him and Parker; he's just darker and more twisted. On the other hand, full redemption for Lyle may be close to impossible.
Imagine: It's a very good idea you have- you and I think a lot alike. :) I'll see what I can do about that big fight. ;) I want to deal with the revelations about Lyle that were brought up in the tv series through Mia's eyes. A little later on we'll see if what really happened to Shei Ling is the same as what Miss Parker was told.
LJP: Hehe... yep, he's about to make an entrance. Especially after the stunt Mia's going to pull.
Reviews are the greatest... please keep them coming.
Lyrics from Disney's Cinderella.
Chapter 13: Risky Ventures
"My dreams were of the most terrific description. Every species of calamity and horror befell me. Among other miseries, I was smothered to death between huge pillows, by demons of the most ghastly and ferocious aspect. Immense serpents held me in their embrace, and looked earnestly in my face with their fearfully shining eyes.
Then deserts, limitless, and of the most forlorn and awe-inspiring character, spread themselves out before me. Immensely tall trunks of trees, gray and leafless, rose up in endless succession as far as the eye could reach. Their roots were concealed in wide spreading morasses, whose dreary water lay intensely black, still, and altogether terrible, beneath. And the strange trees seemed endowed with a human vitality, and waving to and fro their skeleton arms, were crying to the silent waters for mercy, in the shrill and piercing accents of the most acute agony and despair." - Edgar Allan Poe, The Narrative of Arthur Ugordon Pym, 1838
A room of beauty and elegance was spread before her as visions of a fairy tale life danced in her head. The antiques that furnished the room lent a Victorian feel to the area, much to her delight. She felt as though she was lighter than air; her bare feet barely touched the lush carpeting as she danced.
The intoxicating aroma of roses and expensive perfume wafted around her, enveloping her senses in a blissful euphoria. Slowly, she twirled watching with child-like enthusiasm as the skirt of her quaint nightgown billowed out around her.
A light rap at the door interrupted her giggling. "Thirty minutes, Miss," a kindly, old voice informed her. "Do you need any assistance? I can fetch the maid."
"No," she responded still lost in her dream. "I'll be fine."
Still floating in easy circles, she held her left hand out in front of her. The light caught on the diamond on her ring finger before it was splintered into a thousand pieces and sent on their separate ways.
"So this is love... Mmmmmm..." She drifted over to the wardrobe and opened its doors. "So this is love... So this is what makes life divine..."
Inside was an exquisite gown of ivory duchess satin-silk- a classic design fit for a princess bride.
"I'm all aglow... Mmmmmm... And now I know the key to all heaven is mine..."
Somehow she managed to find the zipper that was hidden behind illusion buttons and zip the back herself. Modeling giddily in front of the full length mirror, she reveled in the image she saw reflected in the glass.The bodice was detailed with a beaded embroidered square neckline and elaborately beaded and embroidered cap sleeves. More beading accented the empire waist and floor length A-line skirt. Dainty hand rolled silk rosettes with seed pearl centers embellished the trim and encrusted the sleeves. Lastly, the couture pleats added a fullness to the front skirt giving it the 'princess' look while a pretty chapel train spread out behind her.
It was every little girls' dream come to fruition.
"My heart has wings... Mmmmmm... And I can fly... I'll touch ev'ry star in the sky..."
Her hair was already in soft curls that spiraled down to her waist and she saw no need to alter it. As she was pinning the ivory flowers in her long tresses, another knock came at the door.
An dark haired woman in her fifties entered the room, uncalled. The woman looked browbeaten and would not make eye contact as she fixed the antique veil into the young one's hair. She left as abruptly as she had come.
She resumed her place in front of the mirror, glowing with happiness. Nothing in the world could bring her down to the realm of mortals ever again.
"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of... Mmmmmm... Mmmmmm... So this is love..."
A loud, firm knock sounded at the door once more announcing that thirty minutes had passed and the moment she had waited for her entire life had come.
The door creaked opened but there was no one on the other side.
However, she was shielded in blithe and felicity as she passed from the Victorian dressing room into the dark corridor. Soon, though, her barrier to the real world began to diminish in strength.
The corridor became increasingly darker and more narrow. Fear began to replace happiness as the hall stretched out endlessly before her. She tried to turn back and return to the dressing room, but only a cold wall stood behind her and there was no way beyond it.
She resumed her descent into the unknown. The Wedding March that had shortly before been echoing through the passage was gone and a Requiem played in its stead.
Panic arose in her throat as the euphoria broke completely. She began to run.
Suddenly, the hallway ended and a door presented itself in her path. She froze.
A cold hand gripped her wrist. A wheezing filled her ears with its hot breath.
Two men stood on either side of her. The one breathing on her was tall and menacing and pulled something along behind him. She could not make out the features of his face. The one that held her so fiercely, too, was tall and dressed in lavish clothes all in black. His face was also indistinguishable though he was only inches away. All that was exposed was his eyes- his supercharged eyes of azure flames were such eyes that could bore through a person's soul; eyes that could kill.
The eyes crinkled into a sinister smile as the door opened.
The breath of fire moved away from her throat and moved ahead of her through the door, dragging its ball and chain behind it.
The hand of the eyes that held her released her briefly only to clutch her arm tightly as it prepared to escort her through the door.
Beyond the door was the heart of the malefic- a chamber from a gothic horror. It was into that nightmare they entered.
The Requiem for the Dead played on.
As the altar neared, she wished for all sorts of cataclysm to halt the terror she was about to be sacrificed to. But none came and she wished for death.
At the dais, stood a woman dressed in crimson robes. Her face was obscured by darkness; only impeccably manicured nails on olive hands were visible.
Another figure stood on the woman's left facing her... the groom!
Nausea crashed over her relentlessly.
The man before her turned as the killer eyes gave her hand to him. Perhaps more terrifying than being gifted to a stranger was being gifted to one without a face. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone- stolen by fear.
The ceremony commenced without her consent as the world around her swirled and bubbled with hellish figures and the pronouncement of man and wife sealed her forever in the realm of incubi.
Wheezing became loud in her ear again as the fiery breath licked her ear and it said,
"Welcome home to the Centre."
Amelia awoke drenched in sweat and on the verge of hyperventilating. Images of the nightmare she had just escaped were so vivid in her mind that they haunted her even in consciousness; she could not close or open her eyes without seeing the horrific reel playing again.
"Bobby," she rasped, seeking comfort in her companion. "Bobby, I've just had the worst..."
She suddenly became acutely aware that he was not beside her; his side of the bed was cold.
"Bobby?" Terror gripped her again as she feared she had awoken from one nightmare into another.
Not bothering with a robe or slippers, Amelia began to search the apartment for her husband all while under the leering grin of the Buddha on the television.
"Bobby!"
Going back into their bedroom, she looked for signs he had left the building, but there were none. All of his shoes remained neatly lined up in the closet. No clothes were missing, save what he had worn to bed that night. His coats were all there as well, organized according to color and fabric. His car keys, wallet, money were all in their assigned location in the dresser drawers. Nothing was missing, expect him.
What on earth is going on?
She had no idea what to do, where to go, or who to call. She was alone, confused, and frightened.
Then in the silence, she heard something strange. It was a peculiar, muffled sound- a sound akin to crying. She listened closely attempting to locate the source which seemed close by.
She opened the closet door and the vocalization became clearer, though still distant. And it sounded more like a deep weeping than mere crying.
She did not understand were it was coming from. Even the closet light yielded no answers. She had heard tales of cats being trapped behind walls, but this was unlike any cat she had ever heard; it was distinctly human. With a shudder and a sigh, she retreated from the closet and the bedroom, telling herself that it was her imagination revved up from the nightmare and nothing more. If it was anything, it was probably coming from the apartment next to them.
But the sound remained in her ears, pleading with her to listen. She turned up the volume on the television until it drowned out the vociferation. Knowing she would not be getting back to sleep that night, she settled in with a cup of coffee to watch tv with the Buddha.
Later that day, they entered the Centre via the way they always did- from an unused side alley, through a dark labyrinth of corridors that Lyle controlled and where no cameras had eyes, and into the main complex, eventually reaching their final destination: Sydney's office. It was an elaborate scheme that seemed pointless to Amelia; what difference did it make if anyone saw her?
They had just entered an abandoned sub-level and were continuing navigation of the maze when Lyle came under the sense that they were being followed. More than a little paranoid, he pushed Amelia behind him and drew his gun. With one hand on her and one eye on the shadow under scrutiny, he pulled them onward.
Lit areas of the sub-level were few and far between. But when they came upon the next illuminated space, they discovered Lyle's paranoia was not unfounded. The shadow did not disappear in light.
"Who's there?" The click of Lyle's gun being cocked echoed through the passage.
Amelia cringed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to ward off the visions that invaded her consciousness.
She edged her way through the darkness, feeling her way along the concrete walls of the tunnel system she was trapped in. Somewhere water trickled down into the depths. She glanced continuously over her shoulder, afraid of what might lurking in the shadows…waiting…
She stopped momentarily. Something heavy kept swinging into her hip. Her hands felt for the source and found it in the pocket of the suit coat. Her fingers wrapped around the cold solid object and pulled it out.
It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but she held it close to her face and, by running her fingertips over it, was able to tell that it was a handgun.
She inhaled sharply. Heavy in her hand, the gun appeared to her to be a snake, lethal and ready to kill. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling for she had never held a gun before.
A strange sensation charged through her veins like electricity through wire. She felt oddly disassociated from herself. Her hands, as though operating independently from the rest of her, turned the gun over, opened the chamber, and felt the number of rounds. There were six.
Her hands closed the chamber while the fingers of her right hand gripped the handle. Her index finger slipped over the trigger. The other hand unlocked the safety. The gun was returned to the pocket, primed and read to go. That was all well and good since her mind had no idea what to do with the weapon.
"There you are."
She jumped and spun around.
Figure moved from within the shadows. It was a Black Coat. He stared at her.
Mia looked around frantically to see if there were any others. He appeared alone. She began to back down the corridor, never taking her gaze from the man.
"You are lost, correct?" He slowly advanced her.
Her back hit a wall. There was nowhere else to run. Her attention was caught by the evil glint of the dagger in his hand.
"Come," his voice never wavered in pitch or tone. "Do not make this difficult."
With a fluid and silent movement, the gun rose from the pocket and leveled itself at the Black Coat.
It did not, however, faze him and he continued to advance.
"You will not shoot." His thin lips twitched as his mouth tried to form a smile but couldn't quite make it.
The sight of the gun made her tremble or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was the one controlling it and at the same time something controlled her. Her finger tightened around the trigger.
The gun unexpectedly discharged.
She started, unsettled by the noise, but she could not pull away from him.
A rip appeared in the fabric over his shoulder where the bullet had penetrated, she could see now that her eyed were adjusted to the lightless world. He continued to move forward.
The gun fired again. The ammunition tore into his chest. He moved closer still.
What the-?
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed for a swift death.
It has been said that just before a person dies, they see their life speed before them in flashes. The only thing Mia saw was the image of a finely dressed, handsome man with haunting eyes that were so much like her own.
The final shot resounded with a thunderous crash, and then was dead silence.
Mia opened one eye and found the man standing less than three feet away. She opened both eyes. There was a deep crimson flood pouring from the wound in his head- the last bullet had nailed him between the eyes.
She heard a strangled scream. It took several seconds for her to realize that the screech had come from her own burning throat.
The Black Coat stood motionless before her for an eternity. Then the creature wobbled and fell over- the threat eliminated...
"Forgive me, sir," a young voice broke through the haunting recollections. Amelia peered around Lyle.
"Show yourself," he demanded with a wave of his gun.
From the dark into the minimal light stepped a young, petite girl dressed in black from head to foot. Her ebony hair hung long and straight around her narrow shoulders. Blunt bangs stopped right above her exotic almond eyes.
Amelia stepped out from behind her husband and regarded the girl with wary curiosity. There was something very familiar about her, but she could not, as usual, remember details.
"What are you doing here?" Lyle lowered the gun, his own curiosity overtaking him.
She smiled a small secretive smile.
"I am lost."
Amelia snorted disdainfully. Stupid girl, she cursed mentally, surprised by her atypical cattiness. The girl turned her black gaze on Amelia and shot her a wicked grin. Immediately, she recognized that the girl was challenging her position and her guard went up.
As for Lyle, a strange smile slithered onto his lips as he took in the full view of the new girl. She noticed this right away and moved closer to him as he put away the gun.
Her secretive smile increased and her seemingly innocent nature was betrayed by the lecherousness with which she looked at Lyle. "Perhaps you could help me find my way, Mr. Lyle," she suggested coyly.
Though clearly taken by the young Asian beauty before him, his senses had not completely left and he had the competency to ask, "How do you know my name? Who are you?"
She was within inches of him when she answered. "You are very well known, Mr. Lyle," she purred, running a delicate hand down the lapel of his jacket. "Especially in Nanjing."
Surprise registered on the face of the Chairman's son. "What do you know of Nanjing?"
Her smile deepened in its secrecy. "My name is," she turned a bottomless gaze on Amelia with a look that gave the redhead the feeling that she should already know the answer. "Gogo."
Amelia gritted her teeth viciously as she tried to hold back her temper. She was furious with this Gogo, but livid with her husband and his captivation with the vixen. Despite her fury, she remained silent giving Lyle every opportunity to redeem himself. However, she wasn't completely confident that he would rise to the occasion.
Gogo pressed closer to him and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. She grinned triumphantly at Amelia.
"I hear," she hissed a low tone meant only for her rival to hear, "that your husband prefers Asian cuisine over Italian."
Amelia was practically shaking with indignation, but did nothing but fire her own deadly glare at the other woman.
Lyle finally snapped out of his bewitchment and quickly informed Gogo that they had an appointment to keep. Gogo invited herself along, leaving Amelia to tag along behind after Gogo attached herself to Lyle's arm.
"You'll be able to find your way from here," Lyle said once they reached the main floor of the Centre and he detached her grip from his forearm. To his credit, he declined Gogo's invitation to keep him company while Amelia was in "conference".
As they resumed their convert trek to Sydney's office, Lyle, with a distant pleased look on his face, stretched behind his back to pull Amelia closer, but he was met by resistance.
"Don't touch me!" she sibilated, pulling out of his reach.
Lyle rounded on her in puzzlement. "Now what's wrong with you?" he sighed in aggravation.
"Don't you do that!" she cried in a low tone. "Don't you sigh like that- you have no right! If anyone should be exasperated it's me!"
"Why?" Obviously lost as to why he was the target of such quiet rage, Lyle went on the defensive. "Now what did I do to earn your scorn?"
Amelia stared at him, bowled over with his audacity to try to make himself look like the innocuous one. "Oh, you didn't do anything," she said, crossing her arms over her waist.
He arched an eyebrow suspiciously. The anger had faded from her voice, but he wasn't such if she was being serious now or sarcastic. He discovered it was the latter when he dared to ask, "I didn't?"
"No," she said demurely, before lashing out. "It's what you didn't do! You didn't bother introduce your wife to that..that.." she swore in such a manner that shocked even Lyle. "You completely ignored me, Robert, while you drooled over that... girl..." She stopped speaking altogether and refused to look at him. She stormed a ways ahead of him, but turned on her heel and came back.
"You know," She was calm, save for her tumultuous gray eyes, "I'm glad you've decided to let me tell Sydney everything because I really need to talk someone now that I'm convinced this marriage is a farce!"
She turned and stormed off again and did not see how Lyle paled to a sickly green at her words. He remained rooted to the spot where he stood. His mind reeled as he tried to think of some way to rectify the situation before it unraveled completely. Still so ingrained in old habits, he had not thought twice about his response to Gogo and certainly did not realize the impact it would have on Amelia. He had made a mistake- a very critical mistake and he was already in a precarious position with her.
"I just can't make any connections between flashbacks," she told the doctor, after recounting the dark images of syringes filled with strange liquid and bizarre men in black. "I know they have something to do with each or at least I think they do. There's just too much information missing in between."
Sydney leaned back in his chair with a pensive look. The change in Amelia now that she was no longer bound by Lyle's script was astonishing; she was quite talkative and animated as she went over the memories that had been returning to her in bits and pieces. He also picked up the vexation which underlay her words and was seemingly unrelated to what she was talking about.
"When do these memories come to you, Amelia?"
She frowned briefly before answering. "Well, I first remember- I mean really remember in images- about the injections and the doctor and the man and woman in the corridor when I found the syringe or when I touched the syringe, I guess is more accurate. Then," she bit her bottom lip in concentration as she grasped for the other details, "I remembered that strange man when we were in the sublevels."
The doctor nodded, making note of the points of contact that triggered these remembrances. It was positive that she was slowly regaining her past, however that did not help him understand why Jarod's Antidote was ineffective.
"Are you doing all right, Amelia," Sydney asked with genuine concern. "I understand how taxing this is- do you want to stop for today?"
She shook her immediately. "No, no, I'm all right. Really."
He smiled, grateful that she wanted to continue. "You mentioned that you've been having the same nightmare for the past several nights- what can you tell me about it?"
Amelia took in a deep breath and let it out with a shudder before reciting the details she would rather forget.
Sydney frowned slightly as he attempted to decipher any meaning from the dream. Her descriptions of the two men brought to mind the images of two uncouth Centre associates, Raines and Cox, but he refrained from judgement on the characters, not wanting to impose his personal assumptions wrongly.
"Sometimes I wonder..." she began but her voice trailed off as she wrung her hands worriedly.
"Wonder what?" he prodded gently, watching her twist the rings on her wedding finger. He had been curious about them since he first noticed them, but had not yet brought them up.
"If I remembering through the dream what my wedding was like. Bobby won't discuss it so I don't really know..."
Bobby? Sydney mused without surprise. Of course, Lyle would have something to do with the rings. The psychologist couldn't imagine Lyle allowing her to get involved with any man other than himself.
"Do you remember how long you've married?" he asked with great effort put into keeping the contempt for her husband out of his tone.
"No," she said with defeat. "According to Bobby about four, almost five weeks."
"And how is the marriage working out?"
She now had her chance to pour out all her frustration with Lyle out to someone who would listen. However, something stopped her. As much as she wanted to complain about his mistreatment of her, she felt as though this wasn't the time to discuss their problems. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to straighten out her muddled feelings.
"It hasn't been easy- I can only remember the last week and a half. I don't remember anything about how we met, how long we dated, the wedding... nothing. I barely can recall anything about Bobby and that's caused some problems."
"How so?"
She sighed as she began to feel that she was largely at fault for the problems at home- not completely, but largely.
"I think he's angry that I don't remember him or us. He gets most upset when I remember other people and not him."
Sydney nodded, suddenly realizing that remaining objective when Lyle was involved might be impossible. He tried only to listen and not think to much about the younger man.
"Is that all that's going on?"
"Mostly. I think everything else is a result of that."
The doctor looked at her intently, having picked up on a change of tone. "You don't want to discuss this anymore, do you?"
She gave him a small smile. "Not really."
"That's fine," he assured her. "We'll discuss that some other time. Amelia, your husband tells me that you've been spending some time with a man named Cox. What can you tell me about those visits?"
Lyle was preoccupied in his world of worry when Sydney came out of his session with Amelia and did not notice the older man's presence. A light cough brought Lyle's thoughts back to reality. He glared sharply at the doctor.
"Well,' he snapped, feeling a tad unbalanced; whether it was physical or mental he wasn't sure.
Sydney returned the glare with a reproachful look. "I'm afraid you're not going to be happy with the results," he said saturninely.
"Why? Didn't she talk to you?"
"Oh, yes, Lyle, she talked and talked quite a bit about everything," he paused, watching Lyle closely. "Everything except you. She didn't say much about you." He noticed with interest Lyle's pallor at his report.
Lyle said nothing. His eyes darted to the floor as he pursed his lips tightly together.
"There still isn't enough information," Sydney went on, "to properly assess what's happening to her. On the surface it would appear that she is suffering from dissociative amnesia as the symptoms are psychological in origin."
"Isn't there some sort of medication you can prescribe to fix this?"
The doctor shook his head. "Under normal circumstances, I could use drug-facilitated interviewing or even hypnosis to retrieve the lost past. But I cannot advise that given her history as a Centre test Project; side effects are impossible to predict."
Lyle bit back a growl and rubbed his gloved hand over his chin. "So you're saying that's it- she's just going to stay like this? That's the antidote failed?"
"I didn't say that," he replied sternly. "Listen to me. I don't believe the Antidote failed, I believe that it's being hindered by something and I have a strong inclination that it's being caused by whatever Cox is doing to her." He regarded the younger man harshly. "Are you sure you told me everything about her visits? I can't help if you withhold anything from me."
"Yes," he clipped the word off bitterly. "I've told you everything. Cox showed up in my office one day informing me that Amelia had been returned to the Centre and that I was oversee her progress. That was it. I wasn't even told what progress to look for."
Sydney nodded looking grim.
"So," Lyle drew in a breath. "What am I supposed to do with her?"
"Assuming that we are dealing with dissociative amnesia, the best thing you can do is make her feel safe and secure- that will help facilitate memory return. And knowing what Cox is doing would help."
"I told you," he growled. "I don't know."
"I didn't say you did," Sydney snapped, slowly losing his control on his temper. "But you have the power and position to find out."
Lyle nodded in acquiescence. "But Cox is still in Africa investigating Mutumbo's murder."
"Must you go through Cox to find out?"
"Maybe not," he chewed on the idea he had not given much thought to before.
"How long have you been married, Lyle?" At the dour look on the younger's man visage, the doctor quickly added. "I'm just curious."
"Five weeks." And that was all he would say on the matter. "Is she ready to go?" he asked, suddenly changing subjects.
Sydney nodded.
On his way back from retrieving his wife, Sydney stopped the Under-director and viewed him with a softer countenance. "It's remarkable," he mentioned in a low tone meant for only Lyle to hear. "That even though you never knew your mother, you married someone much like her."
Lyle just stared at the older man with a strange look on his countenance
They returned to his office via another secret, winding path. She was still enormously unhappy with him and the more he tried to appease her, the unhappier she became. They were barely inside his office when she assailed him in a barrage of words.
At one point during the bombardment, he wondered if they were having a lover's spat. However, there didn't seem be much loved involved, especially when she tried to hit him. He caught her wrist just before her hand connected with his cheek.
"Look," he said, putting a good amount of space between them. "I have some work I need to get done and you'll just get bored here. Why don't I take you home? I think you could stand the chance to calm down."
She glared at him, then smiled a disconsolated smile.
"I'm sure Gogo would love to keep you company."
What is he up to?
She watched him return to his office, skittish and in a hurry. Silently, she followed him.
What a mess, he thought, What am I going to do?
He entered his office once again and shut the door. Moments, later the door seemingly flung itself open.
Now what?
"Parker," he spat contemptuously. "You don't believe anyone but you deserves the courtesy of a knock, do you?"
Would it kill you to be gracious to me just once?
"I don't believe you deserve any courtesy, baby brother," she grinned, shutting the door behind her.
It would kill me to be gracious even once to you.
Baby brother... don't call me that- you don't have anysisterly feelings for me.
"I can't imagine why you'd be bothering me now when there's a Pretender out there who still hasn't been caught, Sis."
Sis... don't call me that- you don't have anybrotherly feelings for me.
"Actually that's exactly why I'm here," she said. Her face clouded with graveness as she leaned over the desk. "A little bird told me you had a chat with our Jarod and failed to inform anyone here."
"You mean I failed to inform you."
"What happened, Lyle? Did you try to pull off another half-cocked scheme to bring Jarod in and it back fired on you?"
You're not capable of bring Jarod in.
You think you're the only one capable of bringing Jarod in.
"It's not my job to inform you of contact with Jarod, it never has been," the chair he sat in slammed into the far wall as he rose to meet her scornful smirk. His lips curled backed over his teeth a sneer that matched hers, "And it never will be."
Don't try to intimidate me, Parker.
She leaned further over desk until they were nearly touching noses.
Don't try to intimidate me, Lyle.
"Jarod said he ran into you through a mutual friend- what are you doing with Amelia?"
You're despicable enough to fraternize with a Project and use her to your advantage.
He grinned maleficently. "Late night calls with the wayward Pretender again, Sis? What are you doing with Jarod?"
You're miserable enough to fraternize with the Pretender and use him to your advantage.
Parker pulled back, glaring sanguinarily at her brother. "I'm watching you, baby brother."
I hate you...
"Likewise, Sis."
I hate you...
She was in their bedroom, rifling through every nook and cranny in her search for pieces of her missing past. Time and a chance to think had not calmed her emotions from the run in with Gogo. If anything, they had made her even more irate.
The room was a mess; it looked as though a burglar had broken in and ransacked the place. She knew she needed deal with the disarray before he came back, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was overlooking something. Her eyes meticulously swept the room looking for something... anything...
Her gaze fell onto the bed and her brow furrowed. She had not checked between the box spring and mattress. The mattress was too heavy for her to lift up and she could only push it so far off of its foundation. She leaned against the bedframe, panting heavily, when her vision caught on something small trapped under the mattress.
It was a dog-eared photograph of a woman in her early thirties. Amelia's frown deepened as a memory tried unsuccessfully to surface. The woman looked so familiar- she could almost swear that she had seen her before.
Before she could contemplate the photograph further, she saw something else in the area the picture had been. She tugged the papers free and saw that there were many more.
Her mist gray eyes turned maelstrom black when she saw the contents of the numerous catalogues.
He had spent the last four hours accomplishing little. His search for information on Project Aries was fruitless; Cox had apparently taken those files with him to Africa. And he was still troubled by dilemma he had with Amelia herself.
He decided the best way for him to get back in good standing with the redhead would be to... buy her love, so to speak. He had stopped at the jewelers his father was fond of and invested in a 8.3 carat oval pink tourmaline pendant that was encrusted in diamonds. He had also booked weekend reservations for two at the Cabin O' Love.
With the jewelry box in the interior pocket of his jacket and a bouquet of white Java orchids in his hand, he jogged up the stairs to his apartment. As he went to unlock the door, he noticed a large box sitting in the hall outside of his place. He frowned at the contents of box which looked very familiar. Upon closer inspection, he was surprised to discover that all of the items were figurines and other oddities he had collected while in Asia that had once adorned his bedroom.
He had a sinking feeling that it was going to be harder than he originally thought to win her back.
Leaving the box where was, but vowing to come back for it later, Lyle entered his home with great apprehension. Inside all was quiet and still... too quite and still. He frowned as he set the flowers on the kitchen table.
"Mia?"
There was no answer.
"Mia, I'm home."
Still no response and he began to panic, imagining that she had left him for good.
"Mia!" he swore, searching the rooms. "Where are you?"
He stormed into the bedroom in a frenzy. He fully expected to see something atrocious in the bedroom, but aside from bare walls and little interior decoration, nothing was out of place. He passed by the bed as he explored and saw the picture of his biological mother lying on his pillow. His heart rate quickened. If she had found that, he worried over what else she might have found. He surveyed the room searching from something amiss, he found it in the scent of the room. An acrid, charred odor filled the area around him.
Something was burning!
Disorientation washed over him as he couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from; nothing in the room or closet was on fire. Exiting the closet, he immediately saw the closed bathroom door. Smoke wafted beneath the entry.
He fumbled momentarily in his dresser drawer for the key to unlock the door from the outside. He burst in the bathroom to find Amelia sitting in the bath.
"Mia?"
She did not give any indication that she heard him or was even aware of his presence. She appeared to be in a trance as she stared at the paper being eaten by fire. Once the page became ashes, she reached for another sheet, struck a match, and watched the new sheet be consumed.
"Mia?" he spoke softly as he slowly approached the tub, careful not startle her. "What are you do-?"
His blood ran cold when he saw that she was burning his mail-order bride catalogues.