AN for part 1: Well, this isthe last update before the New Year. I do have a Christmas chapter planned, but unfortunately it won't be seen for another three chapters and an interlude, which will put it into next year (not too far in, hopefully). I apologize that this chapter is short- I intended for it to be longer, but I've already taken so long to update that I've broken it down. That being said, I hope you had a safe and Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday season!
LJP: It'll get very nasty, indeed! ;)
Gemini: Finals went well, I'm happy to report :) lol Cox seems bound and determined to put the Parkers out of business, doesn't he?
Reviews always appreciated. ;)
AN for part 2: Again, thank you to everyone who is reviewing and to everyone who is reading. I actually had no intention of getting another chapter up before the New Year, but felt compelled to give you the rest of the previous chapter. Lol Happy New Years.
Gemini: Ah, those pesky voices! ;) To bad Lyle's Inner Sense isn't more like his sister's... Sydney's relationship with his son will get the chance to grow more, too.
Koolcaz: Glad you like the development between Lyle and Mia, which we will see even more of as the chapters progress.
NYT: LJP is right that I could said "wide eyed and very guilty". Sorry about that... I was playing with the thesaurus when I wrote that last line. Lol.
LJP: Mia will certainly prove herself as a force to be reckoned with, both to Lyle and others.. ;) As for Lyle and Mia actually getting their act together, well...
Lyrics by Paul Williams and the Romantics
Chapter 14: Searching for Eden
Is this all that's left of my life before me? Straight jacket memories, sedative highs... No happy ending like they've always promised... There's got to be something left for me... - "Eyes of a Stranger", Queen.
His jolly grin beamed out of a rolly poly face and his bronze skin gleamed in the early morning light. His grin remained constant when the first blow fell, knocking a chunk out of his ample figure. The next blast amputated his hands. As the murderous mallet chipped away at him, still his jovial smile remained until it was all that remained of the Buddha... and one final swing remedied that.
"Is that all of it?" Her normally mist gray eyes were ebony slits that watched his every move with critical vigilance.
"Yes," he sighed, dumping the large, awkward box he was carrying into the dumpster in the alley.
She turned sharply on her heel and headed back to their apartment and he followed without a word of protest- had he been a dog his ears would have been flat against his head with his tail between his legs.
The apartment he had lived in with relative peace for the past three years was now stripped bare, completely devoid of any reminders of his former life... per his wife's demands.
She told him that he was free to redecorated as he pleased providing that none of the new decor even remotely resembled anything from the Far East. It was not an undertaking he particularly wanted as he feared he would do something that offended her. It was so peculiar for him to be afraid of a woman, particularly one he was married to. Even his sister, who was quite intimidating, he did not fear, only loathed. And yet, there he stood, trembling before the petite redhead worried that the sacrifice was not great enough and she still required a penance.
After examining each room and satisfied that everything appalling was gone, the black glare dissolved and the sweetness he was familiar with returned. "Well," she said finally, "Redecorating can wait until we get back from West Virginia."
Lyle regarded her with uncertainty. He had intended to take her to the Cabins O' Love to renew her loyalty to him, however, after finding her burning his belongings, he assumed the trip was off.
The goddess was appeased... or so it seemed.
"Oh?" he ventured hesitantly.
She smiled a secretive smile and kissed his cheeks. "Let's get packin'," she said, patting his backside as she passed by him.
Swallowing a sigh, Lyle obediently followed her into the bedroom.
He was tired and weary and the day had only just begun.
The bags under his eyes told that sleep was elusive these days and the deep worry lines around his lips and eyes betrayed the anxiety he was under.
He had no session with Amelia that day so with any luck that would translate into no meeting with Lyle. Now if he could only manage to avoid Miss Parker, he might be able to gain some semblance of rest.
Then the phone began to ring.
He sighed heavily and considered not answering it; he did not want to talk to Jarod as he did not want to lie to him nor hang up on him again in order to avoid those lies.
Reluctantly, he reached for the phone.
"This is Sydney."
"Hey!" came the cheery greeting. "How're you doing, Sydney?"
The psychologist stared numbly at the folders on his desk, his mind reeling. This can't be! How... What about Lyle!
Evidently, the Chairman's son had devised a new and terrible way to torment him... by impersonating his son's voice.
"Nicholas?" he finally sputtered in disbelief.
"Yeah," his son laughed, good-naturedly. "Who'd you think it was?"
"I-I don't know. Nicholas, are you all right?" Sounds of the road filtered in around the sound of his son's voice, but it did not give Sydney any clue to his whereabouts.
"I'm great- just fine," his voice faded for a moment before returning with even more strength. " Are you? You sound funny."
"Yes, I'm fine... now. I just thought... Nicholas, where are you?"
"Ah, on my way home. I just got finished dropping off my students- we went on a field trip to the Natural History Museum."
"You've been there all day?"
"Yeah..." the grin in Nicholas' voice died down. "What's wrong?"
"Have you had any contact with Lyle?"
"Lyle who?" the young man sounded truly confused.
"Mr. Lyle," he tried to clarify. "The man without a thumb?"
"No, why would I? I only met him that one time- over a year ago. Dad, you've got me really worried. Do I need to get a hold of Mom?"
It was a bluff! Lyle had been bluffing the whole time!
Relief warmed his chilled psyche and he began to laugh quietly.
"No, no," he told his son, "No, don't worry her- everything's all right."
"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly not convinced.
He was about to respond in the affirmative, when another emotion hit him. "D-did you call me... Dad?" He asked hesitantly, afraid that he had heard only what he wanted to hear and not what was actually said.
Nicholas laughed lightly. "Yeah, you are, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Hey, listen," he went on, "the real reason I called was to see if you might have some time off of work around the holidays. Mom and I'd really like to see you for Christmas."
He couldn't repress the grin that broke free of his restraint. "I'm sure I can managed to get away."
"Great! I'll have Mom call and get the details confirmed. I'm going to have to go now."
"All right. Take care, son."
"Yeah, see you soon, Dad."
Sydney hung up the phone as a strange sensation settled in his chest- a sensation he had not felt in decades... Hope.
And then reality, descended upon him. Since Lyle did not have Nicholas, he had no way to bind the doctor their agreement.
Abruptly, the psychologist rose and left his office at a rapid pace. Without bothering to knock, he flung open the door to Miss Parker's office. The younger woman flashed him a disgruntled glare.
"I need to talk to you, Miss Parker," he said quickly, cut short a sharp retort.
"Not now, Syd."
"It's about Lyle and my newest patient."
Parker stared at him in surprise for a moment. "Well, then," she said, closing out the computer program she had been fooling with. "My schedule just got clear."
A contented smile rested on her lips and her eyelids drooped sleepily and the vibrations of SUV lulled her to the edge of slumber.
Lyle glanced at her apprehensively. He was as restless as she was happy. The voices had kept him up all night... again. The previous night had been more than a little stressful as they packed for their weekend getaway. While there had been no more incidents of anger or removal of items from the apartment, he could not relax. Near paralyzing fears and insecurities preyed mercilessly upon his mind, generating grand paranoiathat was cultivated by the voices.
He knew he should not listen to them. He tried, he truly tried, to ignore them, but after fighting them half the night, he caved into them. He was weak, as they said he was, and he spent the rest of the night listening to their claims of what would happen if Amelia discovered that they were not legally married. She would leave him, they said, but worse than that, she would despise him, just like his sister and everyone else in his life did. And nothing, they postulated, would make her stay.
It was this remark that sent the wheels of plotting in motion. He had to prove the voices wrong- he could and he would make her stay. He would show them.
But she'll still hate you...
Lyle let out a heavy sigh and accelerated the vehicle. After another hour and a half of driving, he began to look for a gas station. The car didn't need gasoline as much as he needed to implement the first phase of his plan.
No matter what you do... She'll still hate you...
A funny feeling prodded under thesinister plotting. It wiggled through a tiny crack in the blackness of bad behavior that was about to assert itself and found a way to the forefront of his consciousness. He glanced again at her, now completely asleep with a small smileon her lips.
She doesn't deserve this, that funny feeling told him. She's never been anything but kind to you...
With a deeply troubled look on his face, he shooed away the sensation, and pulled up to the pump.
"Babe," he pulled her hair back from her neck, letting the cool air wake her.
"Hmm?"
"You want anything while we're at the station?"
"We're here already?"
"Yeah."
"Coffee- no decaf."
"That all?"
"Yeah."
Inside, he fixed her coffee the way she preferred- Irish creme, one sweetener (not sugar). But before he poured the sweetener in, he took a small pouch out of the inside of his jacket and added the contents in along with the sweet condiment. After sealing the lid, he quickly paid the attendant and returned to the car.
As they continued on their trip and Amelia sipped her drink, that funny feeling returned and would not leave.
When no one answered his knock, Broots slipped quietly through door praying that Miss Parker was in a semi-agreeable mood. He clutched the paper in his hand tightly, crinkling the edge, as he scanned the room for his boss. He found her in a corner by the windows speaking with Sydney. Broots regarded the two curiously.
Parker happened to glance up as he neared the desk and motioned him over. Sydney acknowledged him with a tiny smile.
"Hey," Broots cleared his throat. "What's going on?"
"Syd was just filling me in on baby brother's little bluff," Parker said in the annoyed tone that was reserved for when she spoke of Lyle to others.
"I don't follow," Broots said looking to the doctor.
"The new patient I've been seeing was brought to me by Lyle," Sydney informed the technician. "He demanded that the sessions be carried out in complete secrecy; no one was to know anything. He said if anyone found out anything all Nicholas would be harmed."
"He has Nicholas?"
"No," the doctor smiled ruefully, "as it turns out, he doesn't. Nicholas called about twenty minutes ago. He was on his way home from an outing with his students. He has not seen or heard from Lyle since their first encounter."
"Well, I'm glad he's safe," Broots said, overwhelmed by the new information, and Sydney nodded. "Who's the new patient though?"
Parker took over the conversation at that point. "Project Heptagon," she said darkly.
"You mean Mia?" Broots frowned. "I thought that was all over with."
"So did we. But we should have known better- Lyle never does anything magnanimously," Parker's eyes deepened a shade. "Apparently, she's lost her memory again and Lyle wants it back."
"Do we know why?"
"No, not yet and Lyle's cancelled her next session with Syd and disappeared."
Broots glanced down abruptly, suddenly remembering the paper in his hands. "Oh, I think I can help with that," he replied, handing the document to Parker. "This was the reason I came in to begin with."
Parker's blue eyes flashed over the paper taking in its contents. Sydney leaned over her shoulder with curiosity.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A receipt," she answered absently, "of a reservation for..."
The doctor glance worriedly at the other man who shifted uncomfortably.
"The Cabins o' Love," Broots finished.
Sydney's brow shot up in surprise.
Parker swore. "It's happening again!"
It was dark where she was and watery. She felt as though she floating downward. She wondered if she would ever hit the bottom then decided the falling was rather pleasant and didn'tcare if she ever made it tothe floor or not. The sensation stayed with her a long while. Finally, she attempted to determine her whereabouts and tipped her head back. A soft block met her nose and the block felt oddly like a down pillow. She opened her eyes and winced.
The watery silhouettes of objects she could not recognize swam around her. She turned her tilted head to the side to better make sense of her environment and the instance she did an intense burning pain coursed up her spine to her head. The pain was so extreme that she nearly vomited. She closed her against the agony and focused on fending off the nausea.
In time the pain subsided to a bearable level. As she lay very still in what she now figured was a bed, she heard a sound. Somewhere close by, someone was breathing heavily and muttering something over and over.
"I didn't do that. I didn't do that. You're lying- I didn't do that!"
Confusion wormed its way past the pain and she dared to lift her head. The pain flared again, but she pushed beyond it and fought her way into an upright position. She felt as though she was suffering from the world's worst hangover, which was strange as she couldn't remember being a drinker... actually, she couldn't remember much of anything.
"I didn't do that. I didn't do that. You're lying- I didn't do that!"
She sat underwater for a near eternity until her vision cleared and she see that she was actually in a dark bedroom with no water in sight. In the corner of the room was a hunched figure rocking slightly back and forth.
She blinked, frowned, and peered into the darkness.
"Bobby?"
The figure's head jerked up and continued mumbling.
"Bobby, is that you?"
When no one answered her, she edged toward the foot of the bed for a better look despite the heavy feeling that she would throw up at moment.
"No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no!"
"No what?"
The murmurings stopped suddenly and the area became very still.
"Bobby?" she said again, now able to see him clearly. "What's wrong? Why won't answer me?"
"Stay away!" he barked strong and clear when her foot dropped over the edge of the bed.
She lurched forward, clapping a hand over her queasy stomach and using the other one to brace herself against the mattress as a wave of sickness crashed down on her.
"Wha-? Bobby, I don't understand..."
"I didn't do anything wrong," he said abruptly cutting her off. "It wasn't wrong."
"What wasn't wrong?" She was now as baffled as she was sick.
"It wasn't!" his voice was choked with emotion as he tried to justify himself. "I didn't do that! I didn't."
Amelia frowned, massaging her throbbing head as she tried to make sense of his ramblings. He sounded odd- almost as though he was responding to some unspoken accusations and not her queries. She put her weight fully on the foot that was on the floor, testing to see if she would be able to walk. Her leg trembled beneath her.
"Bobby baby," she tried to console him. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you didn't do it. Just come talk to me."
"No!"
He was not looking at her. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his head bowed down to meet them. His hands were clamped tightly over his ears.
"No!" he cried again, nearly in tears. "I didn't touch her. I didn't! I didn't do that!"
Without thinking, Amelia looked down at herself. She was wearing the jeans and sweater she had put on the morning they had left for West Virginia, only her shoes and socks were gone.
What's wrong with him? Is he delusional? Hallucinating? Dear Lord, we didn't bring the syringe! If he's having a spell, we're in trouble!
With every move she made, her stomach threatened to empty its contents. Despite the short distance from her bed to the chair where he sat, it took her a long time to reach him. Finally, she was able to reach out and grasp his arm.
Her touch jerked him back to reality. He stared at her wide-eyed and very inculpative.
"Deep down even the most hardened criminal is starving for the same thing that motivates the innocent baby: love and acceptance"-Lily Fairchilde
Half asleep I hear a voice... Is it only in my mind or is it someone calling me- someone I failed and left behind?
He had not moved since she clambered over to where he sat and grabbed hold of him. He had not moved when she crawled to the bathroom. He had not moved when she retched over the toilet. And he did not move now while she cried on the bathroom floor.
He raised a trembling hand to his forehead and shakily swept his hair back. Her gasps of breath between sobs made him cringe as he tried to shut out the sound of her sorrow. That funny feeling that had been with him since the gas station was now screaming at him to go to her and help her.
But still he did not move.
He simply could not face her for to face her would mean he would have to admit what he had done. If she had been angry about the mail-order bride catalogues, he could only imagine how livid she would be with him over this.
Don't tell, a breath whispered in the back of his mind. No one has to know...
We know, snickered the chorus of voice. We know, we know, and we're going to te-el! She'll hate you!
It's your fault she's crying- go help her. It's the least you can do. This is your fault.
Don't tell. Don't tell.
She's gonna hate you.
It's your fault.
Don't tell.
She hates you.
It's your fault.
"NO!" He shook his head viciously trying to rid himself of the din of confusion. Finally, he could stand it no more and jumped up from his seat.
To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now ...
She was curled up in a ball and huddled against the wall near the toilet, shivering uncontrollably. Every now and again she whimpered pitiably.
Help her.
Don't tell.
She'll hate you.
To say he was afraid would be a great understatement. To add to that fear, he had no idea what to do or what to say. She continued to shake and he continued to stand there in the doorway staring timorously at her. Finally, he got up enough nerve to kneel beside her.
Almost immediately, she sensed his presence and turned toward him. She stared up at him with great hollow eyes with heavy dark circles beneath them. The glazed over look in them were undoubtably an effect of the drug.
Lyle swallowed hard.
"Please," she mewled, stretching out a tremoring hand.
His own hand shook just as bad as he reached out to her. From that gesture she somehow ended up in his arms with her face buried against his neck and shuddering violently against him. He was enormously uncomfortable with situation and his position on the floor. He struggled a bit to stand, then carried her out of the bathroom and laid her on the bed. She was as cold as ice to the touch and wrapping her in all available blankets did little good. He stretched out next to her with apprehension and she snuggled beneath him still whimpering and sniffling. There was nothing they could do except to wait for the drug to run itself out of her system.
Face to face I greet the cast... Set in silence we begin... Companions in an empty room, I taste their victory and sin...
Several hours later she stirred, but he did not noticed. He was staring straight ahead listening to the howling that seemed to be all around him. It wasn't until she spoke that he realized she was awake.
"Bobby?" she murmured still half-asleep. "What happened?"
Perhaps if he layvery still she would think he was asleep.
"Bobby?"
He groaned and sat up.
"What?" he growled, careful not to look at her.
"I feel so strange and heavy. What happened?"she paused a beat, then went on before he could answer. "Man, that must have been some really bad coffee!"
He made the mistake of turning to look at her when she made that last remark. She caught his gaze with hers and held it fast.
"It wasn't the coffee," He answered without thinking.
She regarded him curiously. He began to sweat and to curse those eyes that could draw anything out of him. Then she snorted in disbelief. "What was it, then?"
To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now...
He was quiet for such a long time that she became very worried and sat up, still feeling woozy. Slipping an arm around his waist, she rested her chin against his shoulder.
"What did you do?" she asked very quietly without judgement or condemnation.
His pulse raced as he had a sinking feeling that somehow she already knew the answer. She couldn't possibly, of course, but...
"Just tell me, baby," she cajoled. "You'll feel better if you do."
By this time he had resolved not to say a word- his survival depended on it- but the words slipped out anyway.
"The coffee was drugged. That's why you got so sick."
She kept her surprise hidden from him, knowing that the slightest wrong word, reaction, movement, or breath would send him running. "Why?"
He shrugged and clasped his hands behind his neck causing his head to bow towards his knees.
"Because," he snapped roughly. The rest of his response was lost in mumbling.
"I didn't hear you," she said, her tone light and soothing. She lifted his chin up with two fingers, but he refused to look at her.
"I wanted you to marry me," he repeated much louder than necessary. He jerked out of her hold and returned to his original bowed position.
She shook her head slightly. "What are you talking about? We are married, silly."
"No, we're not!" he shouted, standing up suddenly. "No, we're not!"
Amelia gaped at him briefly, trying to collect her thoughts. "Baby," she cautiously tried again. "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me?"
This garnered a bitter snicker from Lyle. "The marriage was a hoax, a sham." He turned fully to her, stalking over to the bed with a deliberate slowness. " A cruel joke on both of us," he leaned over the edge menacingly. "A complete farce."
Unconsciously, she pulled away from him slightly, but enough that he noticed. He hissed, baring his teeth at her, purposely trying to scare her.
She scowled at him and pushed him away. "Knock it off, Bobby," she scolded irritably. "How could it have been a farce?"
A tale of beauty and the beast, I defend my soul from those who would accuse me... I share the famine and the feast... I have been the world and felt it turning; seen the jester yearning to amuse me...
He glared at her as though she was somehow responsible. Abruptly, the fire drained from him and collapsed on the bed. "Cox," he mumbled, "Raines- they arranged it. It was their doing. I got an invitation to my own wedding, which I knew nothing about. I was told where to be and what to do. That was it. I didn't even know who the 'bride' was until I saw you walk down the aisle."
"Is that why you didn't want to tell me about our wedding?" She was close to him once again.
"Yes," he confirmed, but something in his tone suggested to her that there was more to it than that. However, she let it go for the time being.
"What would be the point?"
Lyle shook his head dejectedly. "I don't know."
She nodded and fell silent for a while. Then she spoke again. "What happened after we left the gas station."
A deep, distressed sigh racked his body. "I drove us to Atlantic City," his voice was barely above a whisper." And found a place that did quickie weddings. You were really out of it, so..."
"I see," she said, understanding his motives, but baffled by the way he reacted; it seemed so irrational and extreme.
Lyle stood again and began to pace.
Like a circus on parade- seldom close enough to see... I wander through an angry crowd and wonder what became of me...
Anxiously, she watched his erratic gait as he crossed the floor back and forth. His expression constantly cycled through a ranged of disturbed emotion.
"I didn't do anything to you," he said suddenly in a strange, thick voice. "I didn't touch you or do anything like that."
She frowned and started to assure him that she never thought he did, but he rambled on before she could get a word in.
"No, no, no. I didn't. No matter what they say, I didn't. They're lying- I didn't do anything."
"Who says, B-"
"Anyone!" he ground out emphatically. After a beat he went on in a calmer tone. "No, I understand that you're angry and you want out. I'd want out, too, if I was married to me. I understand. We'll get an annulment right away- as soon as we get back to Blue Cove."
He went on and on like this for a long time. Amelia sat back in the bed and worriedly watched him agonize as he responded and defended himself to unverbalized accusations and questions. As he went on in inconsequential jogs, memories began to tumble loose.
"...Lyle?" Mia stood in the bedroom doorway, sleepily rubbing her eyes. "I heard a noise… are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine," he said shortly without looking at her. "Just having a loving conversation with my father."
His sarcasm was not lost on the sleepy redhead. She watched him pace for a while, then sitting and standing again, and finally sitting again on the edge of the reclining chair. She softly walked over to him and sat on the coffee table tucking her legs underneath her.
"I take it your not on very good terms with your dad."
He looked at her through narrowed eyes and did not answer right away.
"You could say that," he said finally. And he did not say more.
"Oh." Mia fingered the fresh hole in the right knee of her jeans and pulled at the frayed edges. They sat in the gloomy silence for a long while. He watched her with a veiled gaze; he had no intention of discussing his past with her- the less she knew the better- but it made him uneasy when she seemed to take it so personally. Sitting Indian-style on the coffee table in front of him, she was hidden almost completely from his sight by the cloak of hair that surrounded and enclosed her like curtains. His gaze fell to her fingers that fidgeted with her jeans.
Suddenly, a hand trapped her fingers. She looked up curiously at him.
"Stop," he said and collapsed back against his chair.
She pursed her lips together in a thin line and folded her hands in her lap.
"Stop that," he snapped fiercely.
"What?" she looked confused.
"That…that pitiful look. I'm getting sick of it!"
"Sorry," she mumbled. His criticism only made the forlorn look worse.
He was immensely uncomfortable with her in close proximity. Typically, when he felt like he did, usually he dealt with it by lashing out at whatever unfortunate thing happen to be nearby. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to quell the urge to grab her and do something he might regret.
Regret…feh… what would one more regret be? I've got a lifetime of them… His body trembled with manic laughter as he fought to keep it silent.
"So hear from your old man much?" It was a stupid question asked in bad-tempered, disagreeable tone. He was surprise that she actually answered him.
"I can't remember."
Of course, she can't remember! What an idiot you are!
She stretched out her legs and slipped over to the couch, staring at him over the arm.
"Tell me about your family."
And so he told her about his family. But the truth was so intertwined with invention in what he told her that it was doubtful that Lyle himself could distinguish fact from fiction. And it wasn't a sob story he gave her either, at least not at first. He attempted using the technique that usually best achieved what he wanted and that technique was fear. He told her horror story after horror story about his childhood and adulthood, making sure to expound on the most gruesome details. He even went so far to completely expose his warped hand in the same manner that always sent Broots scurrying into hiding. And for the first time in his memory, fear failed him. He was the one sent running for cover when he displayed his hand and she cradled it in hers, running her fingertips over the scar. Naturally, he made sure that his demeanor stayed intact and she did not see how badly that simple gesture rattled him. She thought she had hurt him by the way he jerked away from her; she apologized profusely and seemed on the verge of crying until he assured her he was fine.
Her unorthodox responses to his tactics meant that he had no way of predicting her actions that left him feeling that he wasn't in control of the situation. He hated not being in control.
There was one thing he could control, however, and that was her perception of Miss Parker and Jarod. He was meticulous in his tale about them, making absolutely sure that by the time he was finished with his story, she had nothing but dislike and malice for his twin and the Pretender. That partnered with her compassion for him only solidified her allegiance to him...
...She woke up in a fog due to someone shaking her. She resisted waking up, but the shaking was persistent.
"Mia, get up," Lyle's voice seemed a thousand miles away.
"What?" she slurred, struggling to sit up and still half-asleep. "Did they find us?"
"No," he said. "Just get up. I need to ask you some questions."
She yawned and blinked several times. "Ask me what?"
"What happened while we were separated?"
She frowned as the memory was hazy. "It was really strange," she said after awhile. "I remember waking up underwater in tub."
This caught his attention. He crashed next to her on the couch, gazing at her intently. "Underwater?"
She flushed, embarrassed by how ridiculous it sounded. "Yeah, uh, when I got out of the tub I remember when I looked down at my wet clothes I saw a broken syringe on the floor…"
"What else?"
She proceeded to tell him everything she could remember. He listened without interrupting, growing more and more disturbed. Then, suddenly, his face contorted in agony. A low growl escaped through clenched teeth.
"The case," he choked out. "Get the black case."
Mercifully, her memory did not fail and she was able to recall what he was talking about. She fumbled in the briefcase for the syringes while his groans of anguish increased.
His condition wasn't so deteriorated that he couldn't administer the injection to himself and she found that she had to look away when he did. He improved immediately.
"That's the syringe," she told him as her eyes lit with recognition.
"Huh?"
She reached over and tapped the hypodermic needle. "That's just like one I found in the bathroom when I woke up."
He stared at her. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Why do you have to take them?"
He turned the syringe over in his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've had to take them since I was fifteen. If I don't… well you saw happened before…"
"What happens if you stop taking them?"
He just looked at her. Her eyes widened. "Oh…" she breathed. "Wow… and no one's ever told you why?"
He shook his head. "Withholding crucial information is a way to exert control."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"Nothing," he said, looking away from her.
They sat in silence until he broke it with an outlandish question.
"Do you believe in shame?"
She gave him a funny look. "Yeah. At least, I think so."
He appeared to mull this over. "I'm not sure I do." He said nothing for a long while. Then he did something he wasn't suppose to do… he told her about his job… and the Centre, those little details he had conveniently left out earlier.
"Why would they want me?" She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her.
"I'm just beginning to figure that out."
"Did I do it?" she asked despondently. "Did I kill those people?"
He found it difficult to meet her eyes, so he locked his gaze on the coffee table. "Yes," he replied coarsely, massaging his left hand absently. "Most likely. It's my guess that the Centre's created you to be an assassin. But I'm not sure."
Her eyes filled with tears that brimmed over and dripped onto her sweater. "It's all been a lie," she whispered in despair. She felt as though her world collapsed. "Everything…I'm a…no…no…" She turned and buried her face in a pillow, but she didn't sob and her breathing remained even. After a while, she felt a hand on her shoulder and then she fell into darkness...
To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now ...
"Do you really think Lyle's taken her to the Cabins o' Love to, you know," Broots looked anxiously at Sydney.
The doctor shrugged. "That I don't know, Broots. Though, in a way, I doubt it. Given Lyle's protectiveness of her as well as his past actions where she is concerned, it doesn't make sense that he wouldhurt her now, if at all."
"I wouldn't put it past baby brother," Parker chimed in as she walked into the room. "Clearly she has some sort of information that he wants. Once he gets, he won't have any use for her anymore."
Broots shuddered and frowned. 'Gosh, I hope we can get to Mia in time. I kind of like her. It's too bad the Centre and Lyle got to her- she seemed really nice and sweet..."
"Yeah and so does a Rottweiler before it attacks you," Parker snorted scornfully. "Let's not forget the purpose of Project Heptagon, okay? She's just as unpredictable as Lyle."
"But Jarod's Antidote-" Broots reminded her.
"We're going to assume that it didn't work- a theory I know Syd's not fond of, but better safe than sorry." She turned her icy gaze on the doctor. "Right, Syd."
"Whatever you say, Miss Parker," he agreed with only a note of exasperation in his voice.
"Good. Let's get going then."
"You didn't see the look on your face." Lyle was on the bed again lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, his fingers absently entwining themselves in Amelia's hair. "You were terrified and begging Cox not make you go through with it."
She sighed and turned closer to him, settling her head on his chest. A slight frown marring her features. The nightmare that had been troubling her night after was now being vividly described from a different perspective.
"And you weren't just afraid," he went on saturninely. "You were afraid of me. You kept pleading with Cox not to make you marry me. You... I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"I'm sorry, Bobby. I just don't remember any of it," she said softly.
"Yeah, I know."
"Can I ask you something?"
"I guess."
"Why didn't you just tell me all of this? I would have understood."
He did not answer right away. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I just didn't want see that look on your face again." And that was all he would say on the matter.
They laid in silence after that and soon Amelia felt his breathing even out and deepen. She held him tighter and sighed. There were still so many questions left and so many new ones that had sprung up after this weird turn of events. She didn't completely follow his logic for drugging her so they could be legally married or why he wasn't honest with to begin with. In the nether region of her psyche a small grain of doubt voiced itself and she wondered if she shouldn't be afraid of him. Pushing the doubt aside, she snuggled against him even more and tried to sleep. But soon, she was disturbed by faint muttering.
She lifted her head slightly and considered him inquisitively. He was talking in his sleep; not typical speaking, but strange utterings that went back and forth between past and present and everywhere in between. She laid her back down, but instead of sleeping she listened.
When you close your eyes and go to sleep and it's down to the sound of a heartbeat... I can hear the things
that you're dreamin' about... When you open up your heart and the truth comes out...
I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...
When I hold you in my arms at night don't you know you're sleeping in the spotlight...
And all your dreams that you keep inside; you're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide...
I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...
When you close your eyes and you fall asleep... Everything about you is a mystery...
I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...
Sunlight danced through the leaves of the trees in the forest surrounding the Cabins O' Love in the early morning hours. The peaceful awakening of a new day was rudely disrupted by the door of Cabin 77 being kicked in.
"All right, Lyle, I know you're here!" Parker's gun was cocked and ready for action.
There was no response to her exclamation.
"Looks like we missed them," Sydney announced after quickly looking over the room.
"No kidding," Parker snapped pettishly, though she wasn't annoyed with him so much as her brother. "Great!"
Another wasted trip with nothing to show for: no Lyle, no Amelia, and not a word from Jarod. It was the latter that troubled her the most.