Notes: Reviews are always appreciated!

Sydney watched patiently as Jarod scooped the first spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth. The movement was mechanical, the pretender's gaze still unfocused; but the feeling of tension pervading the space between doctor and – for the first time – patient seemed to ease momentarily as he swallowed. Captivity, it appeared, had not lessened Jarod's enthusiasm for the dessert.

"It's the only thing I've gotten him to eat consistently," Laura admitted as she prepared the "breakfast" that morning. He'd ignored her unconscious wince at the implication of her poor nursing skills while she continued, "Which sucks because it's not the most…portable food item there is."

"I'm not surprised." Sydney's glance shifted to Jarod, sitting on the couch this time, more or less in the same position as the night before. A fire now crackled in the small fireplace, giving the younger man something tangible to meditate on. In spite of the situation, Sydney felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "He developed quite a sweet tooth in the years following his escape from the Centre. I think, as long as we can meet his other nutritional needs, letting him indulge would not be the worst thing."

Laura grimaced, sliding the spoon between the sloppy scoops overfilling the bowl. "Well, I'm glad I've got your blessing. Though I don't know if I'll be able to stomach the stuff after all this."

The conversation had represented a microcosm of the previous night. Up until the wee hours of the morning, following Laura's confession, the pair had begun to chart an initial plan to address the damage Abbot Industrials had inflicted on the pretender. The obstacles they faced, they'd come to agree, were threefold:

First, as Laura had explained, was her familiarity with Abbot's procedures and they with hers. She and Jarod would have to remain mobile for the next few days until she had completed vetting of a secure safe house for them to stay in. Without it, there was no guarantee Jarod would have the stable environment he needed to recover.

"Why not here?" Sydney had asked, eyes roving the cabin. The location reminded him a little of the house on the lakeside where Jacob was now buried. For some reason, the thought was less painful to him than it should have been.

Laura likewise took in the surroundings. "I considered it, but with only the one road out–" She frowned as she looked back at him. "You want to be the one to drag Jarod, in his state, through those woods?"

Second, they would have to navigate around Sydney's obligations to the Centre. When he asked how she intended to explain his current disappearance, she'd handed him a cell phone with the mild suggestion he call in sick for the day. Illness might buy them at least forty-eight hours to plan accordingly.

Last, and most difficult of all, was Jarod himself. Any chance Sydney had of treating him required the psychiatrist to first break through the delusion he himself was deceased. From Laura's description of Jarod's semi-catatonic condition, he theorized the pretender may have regressed to a protective state similar to ones he'd periodically slipped into as a child. Sydney hoped, by reestablishing the connection between them, he could guide Jarod back from his mind's own internal precipice. Which brought him here, straddling the kitchen chair he'd moved into the living area, observing Jarod from the other end of the couch. A distance Laura marked as comfortable for the pretender.

"It's good to see you again, Jarod." He said as the younger man took another bite of his ice cream. A test of the waters, to see if Jarod might respond to him simply as another individual in the room with him. "I'm only sorry it's taken this long for me to…make contact with you again."

He might have imagined the flicker of eye movement in his direction. Jarod made no other sign he had heard him as he continued to eat. The hinges of the bedroom door creaked. Despite their previous arrangement she would remain out of sight for this initial conversation, the upper half of Laura's features peaked around the corner of the door frame. Patience, Sydney decided, was not a virtue Miss Abbot practiced devoutly.

"Your friend Laura tells me you were forced to witness some horrific incidents over the last few months." He continued, pointedly ignoring the intrusion. The mild phrasing was deliberate. An open invitation intended to provide an opportunity for Jarod to unleash any surface level explosion of anger or resentment. Sydney was certain, even in his current state, Jarod would see through the obvious ploy but hoped he might take advantage of it, nevertheless. "If you want, I would like to help you process them. If you will let me."

A definite glance in his direction this time. Summoning more energy than he'd displayed thus far, Jarod suddenly leaned forward and placed the bowl, unfinished, on the floor at his feet. Drawing his legs up, he tucked his knees against his chest, resting his chin between them. Sydney paused, giving him the chance to speak, before softly imploring, "Please, Jarod, allow me help."

The words hung between them as Laura opened the door fully, anxious intent to put an end to the session clear on her face. Sydney made a small wave with his hand, pleading for restraint, for her to give Jarod the time he needed to respond. When it seemed like nothing was forthcoming, however, she stepped into the room.

"I had a friend like you once."

Laura froze. Eyes widened in shock, she looked from Sydney to Jarod and back again. For the first time, something like hope threatened to fill her chest and she covered her mouth to keep from crying out. Sydney's focus remained on the pretender. "A friend? What happened to him?"

Jarod would not look at him. In profile, the psychiatrist watched as his eyes squeezed closed, the muscles along his neck and jawline tensing as though he were fighting off a bad memory. When he spoke again, words monotonous in timber, all he said was, "He was killed. Because I tried to escape."

Sydney frowned. The chair beneath him groaned as his grip tightened against the wooden back. The only indication of feeling he let slip past the barrier of his professional control. Across the room, Laura's hand had slipped to her chest as she listened, her brows knit in consternation.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied and truly was, for Jarod's sake. "You hold yourself responsible for his death, then?"

Again, in profile, he saw Jarod's eyes open. Shoulders sagging, the pretender's voice took on a somber note, the first real emotion Sydney had heard from him. "You should run while you can."

"Run? Run from what, Jarod?"

When no answer came, Sydney found himself standing. Ignoring the warning sound Laura made in his direction, he moved closer until he stood within Jarod's sightline. "Jarod?"

A moment passed and the psychiatrist suddenly glanced down at the bowl of still melting ice cream. Stooping down to pick it up, he held towards the figure crouched in front of him. Jarod's face, forehead now pressed against his right knee, tilted up at the sound of the spoon scratching against porcelain. Not quite meeting the other man's eyes, he reached up to take the offered bowl in both hands. Sydney gave a small nod of encouragement as he said, "It's alright, Jarod. Eat. Before it completely melts. We can continue this at another time."

Pure confusion had replaced the hint of dismay in Laura's expression when he faced her again. Tilting his head in the direction of the front door, a signal for her to follow, Sydney turned to leave without waiting for her acknowledgement. He heard her pause behind him, murmuring softly to the couch's lone occupant, as he opened the door and embraced the chill bite of the autumn morning.

"Well?" Laura said when she finally closed the door behind them. "He spoke. More words than I've ever gotten out of him in one go, at least."

Humming noncommittally, Sydney picked a loose flake of red paint clinging to the rail of the porch banister. The last few minutes of the conversation with Jarod replayed in his mind. Specifically, what he saw when he looked in the pretender's eyes. Jarod's familiar shade of brown was clear and sorrowful as they rose to meet Sydney's own. Almost instantly, the younger man had dropped his gaze, purposefully pressing his face against his knee. An intentional feint. Sydney realized, to hide the flash of recognition within them.

"Goin' on a limb here, doc, but I'll assume by that sound it's bad."

"What? Oh, no. Not exactly." Sydney pivoted, leaned against the post, and crossed his arms over his chest. "He recognized me. I saw it in his eyes, briefly, but I saw recognition there. I believe…I believe Jarod, or a part of him at least, may be fully aware he is out and free. That I, and likely by extension, Miss Parker, Broots, and his mother are also alive."

Laura swallowed. This was not quite the news she had been expecting. A part of her wanted to point out that, even if he and the others were alive, others – potentially a great many others – were still dead. Instead, she focused on the fact that while the news was good on the surface, Sydney's reaction to it did not inspire a wave of confidence, "I hear a 'but' somewhere in there."

"But he seems to be intentionally blocking himself off from that knowledge. I just don't understand why."

There was a spring in the psychiatrist's energy at odds with the gravity of his revelation. Almost, Laura thought to herself, as if he still views Jarod as a science project. She said nothing, suppressing her knee-jerk revulsion, and watched as his right hand unfolded from the crook of his left elbow to press ponderously against his upper lip as he considered the question. Laura shuffled uncomfortably. Something Jarod had said also struck her as odd.

"He…He said you, or your stand-in, was killed when he tried to escape."

Sydney glanced over, eyebrows knitting in curiosity.

"Lilly–" A sharp intake of breath and a pained flinch as she realized the line she'd inadvertently crossed was not one she could come back from. "The former project manager never reported an escape attempt."

"Doesn't mean one, or even more, didn't occur." Sydney pointed out. He let the slip of the tongue slide for the time being, filing the name away for future research. "Jarod has never been one to sit idle."

"Maybe," Her forehead creased when she frowned. "But, like I told you, they kept him pretty heavily sedated those first few weeks. I'm still waiting to hear back from my source on getting access to the files, but I can't imagine he was in a state that early on to even get away. Lilly wouldn't risk that."

Sydney considered her argument. A number of possibilities, none of them pleasant, offered themselves to explain the discrepancy. "Unfortunately, until you access those files, or Jarod tells us himself, we may never know."

Laura scowled. "I hate not knowing."

Sydney couldn't prevent the small smirk that lit beneath his finger. Dropping his arms, he stood, stepping towards the young woman. With a quick, reassuring pat on her shoulder, he said. "We've made progress today, and tomorrow we will make a little more."

Before she could respond, Laura felt a buzzing sensation on her hip. Sydney, it seemed, had heard it too as both looked down at the little black box strapped to her belt. Laura pulled the page from its holder, scanning the message along the screen.

"Oh shit!"

"What is it?"

"Looks like you were right about Miss Parker. She and your tech were at your house." At his questioning glance she added, "I had a friend watching the place who owes me a favor, or ten."

Again, Sydney filed the information away for further consideration. Miss Abbot, even exiled from the auspices of her family, seemed to command a network of favors and allies for her own personal use. He worried if she'd considered the risk so many open breadcrumbs might cost her or Jarod in the long run. "They know I'm gone then."

"I don't know what they know," Laura stated, strapping the electronic box back to her belt. "But I know it's time for me and Jarod to get moving again."

He had made the decision long before he'd voiced it. "I'm coming with you."

Laura started, staring at him as if he'd grown a full other head. "Um, no, you're not. You can't. The Centre–"

"How long has it been since you last slept?"

Laura blinked. It was not a question she had expected someone to ask, let alone care, what the answer was. The weariness in her joints from last night had stretched into the marrow of her bones come morning. She thought she'd been doing a better job at hiding it.

"Not sure," she finally admitted aloud, earning a knowing look from the professional. "Maybe an hour or two here and there the last few days."

Sydney nodded. "You need rest. Especially if you plan to outwit both Abbot and The Centre. Between the pair of us, I think we can both keep an eye on Jarod and keep him away from those hunting him."

That prickle along the back of her neck was back and she almost snapped at him, "Like you?" With some effort, she reminded herself that she had been the one to bring the researcher into this mess to begin with. That what little information she'd managed to dig up on Sydney, she'd come away with the impression (and impressions were the only thing keeping her and her charge alive) he did, in fact, care for the pretender. Even if he had a horrible way of showing it.

"If you come with us, that paints a bigger target on Jarod's back."

"Let me worry about that. At least where the Centre is concerned. We will work together to keep him safe."