I went to sleep one night; a normal woman in her apartment in the "real" world, and I woke up in a nightmare. I have spent far too many fruitless hours trying to understand what had happened and how and if it was even real or if I am simply having a very long, very real hallucination.

You see, I woke up inside a television program. I haven�t seen much of this world, so I don�t know if there�s a Dr. Mark Sloan running around somewhere, or a Mulder and Scully solving X-Files from their Washington DC basement office, but I know there�s a Centre in Blue Cove, Delaware. I know there�s a man named Jarod here that they kidnapped as a child and exploited for years.

I know he escaped them, several times, and that they seek him still. I know where he is, but I�m certainly not about to tell them. Against my better judgment I�ve gone and fallen in love with the man.

I can hear his peaceful breathing from the bed behind me as I gaze out my window onto the silver and black landscape below. My hands caress my swollen belly, soothing the three fetuses wrestling within my womb. They are his children, created because of the greed of the Centre but loved no less for that reason.

If I could return home tonight I wouldn�t. These infants and their father have grounded me into this reality in a way that no locked doors or basement cells could have ever managed.

But love isn�t enough to soothe my anxiety. Jarod sleeps peacefully now, and I am happy for him, knowing all too well the nightmares that used to plague him. I just wish that I too could sleep peacefully.

Even if I hadn�t been into my 7th month of pregnancy with triplets I�d still be up now, contemplating the stark midnight landscape and contemplating my new life. My nightmares haven�t gone away with my freedom from the Centre. I try not to let them disturb Jarod in his sleep, but they still wake me most nights.

Once again I look over at the man who changed my life in ways that he can�t possibly comprehend, and the words to a song I�d heard in my reality floated through my mind.

Yes, the day had been magic. Jarod had returned shortly before dawn from one of his pretends and, as always, my fears had been swept away by the flood of joy in his return. It frightened me to my bones to feel that much happiness simply from being in the presence of another human being. If my life had taught me anything, it was never to get too close to anyone; and yet there I was, tied heart and soul to a man, on the run from a ruthless corporation, and with a hero complex. It was enough to give me a nervous breakdown.

Yeah, being with him turned my brain to mush and my well trained instinct for self-preservation to nothing more than an impotent voice in my head. The only other time I had felt this way; felt like my survival was secondary to the happiness of another, had been with my children in my previous life. But with my son and daughter I�d had the power to protect them; at least until I trained them to be cautious too.

Jarod, though, was too well trained to jump into situations that could hurt him. His need for revenge took him out into the world time and time again, and made him taunt the Centre instead of hiding from it the way a prudent person would have. I was terrified that he�d be captured by the Centre, or worse, that he�d lead them to me.

Okay, it was moonlight, but the sentiment was the same. I loved to watch him, especially when he was asleep and unguarded. His little-boy naivet� and grown-man strength were both easy to see in his sleeping face.

He could still be amazed and enthralled by things that other people took for granted and he was incredibly----earnest. Like a child there were no half measures with him, but his passions were those of an adult. He was such an endearing combination of guileless boy and clever man that I knew I�d never really stood a chance against his appeal. In spite of the cruelty of some of the stings he pulled on the guilty during his pretends, there was an innate goodness to him that drew me like a magnet.

Well, there was no questioning that one. I had never, in either of my lives, felt the same helpless bonding that I did with him. It wasn�t that I couldn�t feel, couldn�t love, but rather that the cautious observer in my head kept those feelings firmly in check. She weighed everyone who entered my life and decided whether or not we could allow ourselves to get close based on one impossible criteria: Could they hurt us?

Of course, everyone was capable of hurting us, so she reserved love for children and animals, who were at least mostly safe. I wondered if it was Jarod�s childlike nature that slipped him past my barriers, or if the Centre had somehow played with my mind during our captivity. I knew that Raines had a fondness for experimental drugs.

Settle on the breeze? Hah! Blow away on a hurricane was more like it. The doubts, the carefully rehearsed objections to our relationship, every logical thought vanished like a snowball in July when I was with him. I knew that I should leave him, should vanish during one of his journeys and thereby save us both from discovery, but just one thought of his sad brown eyes stopped me before I even started to leave.

Sometimes I felt so torn between my logical, and cautious, mind and my loving heart that I thought I�d rip in half and bleed to death. Sometimes I almost wished I would. I hated this vacillation in my mind and I hated having to make a decision. I�m not ashamed to admit that I�m a coward---it�s a trait that has saved me many times. Now, though, my heart had rebelled with a vengeance, and not even my cowardice was enough to save me.

All he had to do was touch me and all of my arguments vanished. When he held me I felt safer and more loved than I ever had in my life---on either world. If I could have killed that part of me that insisted security is a lie and that giving another person a hold on your heart was dangerous, I would have been blissfully happy. As it was, that part of me was silent when I was in his arms, swept away by the emotions his lightest touch brought out in me. It was later, when he was gone on another crusade and I was alone again, that my insecurities chimed up.

If only the world was gone, then it would be easy. I�d even settle for the Centre being gone. I just couldn�t seem to shake my terror of that place, Raines, and, most of all, Lyle. I�d recovered from violence once before----well, I learned how to push it to the back of my mind and forget it most of the time, at least, but I couldn�t seem to push away the memories I had of the place.

Unfortunately the only memories the Centre had left me were negative. Jarod assured me, often, that we had some good times during the weeks I�d lost, but I didn�t remember them. I believed him, but it would have been hard not to with the three, rapidly growing proofs of his words turning somersaults in my womb.

I could feel it now, from across the room and not even touching him. It was a good heart, filled with an abundance of love that he wanted to give away. He wanted a family so badly----

�And that�s why he says he loves you.� my insecurities insisted.

It didn�t matter how many times I reassured myself that he meant what he said, a large part of me believed that no one as wonderful as Jarod could love someone as damaged as me. Lyle�s attentions were easier for me to accept than Jarod�s open devotion.

Yep, that was my other fear. It was as though I had ceased to be me once he came into my life. Of course, I�d really ceased to be me when I�d left my reality----pulled here by an act of nature on my world and the twisted experiments of Dr. Raines on this. But it was the change in my heart, my soul, that terrified me----and that change was all because of Jarod.

I wasn�t a fortress of solitude any longer; Jarod had become a part of me, or I had become a part of him. When the time came for him to leave me, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that time would come, what would be left of me? Would I be able to go on without him?

God! I wished it could be that easy! Just to be. Even in TV land it couldn�t be that simple.

Jarod, for all that I thought he was the greatest thing to have happened to me, had his flaws---the Centre being one big one, and his hero complex being almost as large. He needed to find his family, discover the past the Centre had stolen from him, and find some goal for his life other than punishing every bad guy he came across. And I certainly had a truckload of my own problems.

I needed to find out how to feel secure again; to rediscover the courage the Centre had stolen from me. I knew I couldn�t possibly love him the way he needed to be loved until I could learn to believe in his love for me. And to do that I had to first believe that I was lovable. I�d never been given unconditional love before him, and I still didn�t know what to do with it.

And somewhere, in the midst of those needs, we needed to figure out just how we were going to protect the three babies I carried from that loathsome disease that was the Centre.

Which brought me back to my underlying worry. Was this love? How would I know? I�d never been in love before. I�d had two children, and raised them to adulthood, on that other world, and still I�d never actually fallen in love. Jarod had, if I could believe what the television series had revealed-----but it had looked a lot more like infatuation to me.

His eyes fluttered uneasily. He sensed me watching him, and he hated to be watched. I understood his feelings, even before my experience in the Centre, with its eternal surveillance cameras, I too had hated to be watched.

I returned my gaze to the picture window I stood in front of, and looked over the moon-bathed countryside. It was eerily beautiful, every object sharply defined by the cold white light. It represented my sanctuary; the first security I�d felt since coming to this world and I was deeply grateful to the generous couple sleeping in the house next to us---the same couple that had taken me in and sheltered me following my escape from the Centre.

Even if Sam had ignored my wishes and contacted Jarod behind my back. He had reunited us, and while I treasured our time together, I was still convinced that it would end in disaster. The Centre wasn�t going to let us go, or give up on claiming our children. All of us together in one place was simply begging for trouble.

Jarod murmured in his sleep, and I turned my gaze back on him, checking for signs of distress. He tossed restlessly, turned over and found my pillow, and hugging it to him and fell back into a deep sleep.

Ever had an arm or a leg fall asleep? Remember how much it hurts when they come back to life? Imagine how painful my poor heart, asleep for a lifetime, hurt now. I wanted so much to believe in "happily ever after", but I knew better. The big bad wolf was looking for us, and I could feel him drawing closer every day.

Why didn�t the songs ever reveal just how painful it is for those walls to come down? Why didn�t they talk about the uncertainty, the feeling of vulnerability, the soul chilling fear? People don�t have walls for nothing, you know. They�re there to protect us; to protect that painful, waking heart. Love isn�t what it�s cracked up to be in the songs, folks.

Too close, at least as far as my insecurities were concerned. Close means vulnerable, and vulnerable means pain in my book. A man to trust is as mythical as a unicorn in my universe.

But I knew I�d never leave him.

My gaze was drawn back to him like iron filings to a magnet. Just the sight of him, vulnerable in his sleep, trusting in my love, damaged as it was, melted the barriers in my heart like sugar in the rain. I had no choice where he was concerned---some force stronger than my survival instincts drove me to his side, kept me there against my better judgment.

And the worst of it was that my voice of survival was growing quieter and quieter as time went on. I liked being with Jarod, making him smile, watching him sleep the peaceful sleep of a baby.

�And I know, and you know, there�s no need for words right now.�

It took all of my willpower, but I pulled my gaze away from him and stared blindly back out the window. I still needed words, but I wasn�t sure the words I needed even existed. I knew Jarod would never understand me well enough to speak them if they did.

He tried, but even with his far from ideal childhood he couldn�t understand the insecurities mine had left me. He didn�t even really understand the insecurities his childhood had left him.

There he was now. Did I hear the sheets rustle? Did the bed creak as he rose? I don�t know, I just know that I was always aware of him, from the moment he entered the same room as me, until the moment he left. He slid his arms around me, hands splaying over my swollen stomach, and I leaned back against him with a contented sigh.

It didn�t matter how deeply into my worries and fears I was, his touch always affected me that way. Within his arms nothing else mattered, we were our own little universe. Too bad he couldn�t hold me 24 hours a day.

He never seemed surprised that I knew when he was there; that he could come up from behind me time after time and touch me, but never startle me. I wondered if he was aware of me in the same way.

"Babies keeping you up?" His voice was a low rumble that sent a shiver of primal pleasure through me, as always.

"Mmm, one of the little monsters is going to need a trampoline when he gets out." I agreed, keeping my troubled thoughts to myself.

I�d told him once, before he left me on his first mercy mission after our reunion, how frightened it made me. He�d smiled, his charming, completely self-confident smile, and sworn that he�d never allow the Centre to find the babies or me. After that one time I kept my fears to myself.

I knew Jarod needed to be free----to search for his family and to help people without any regrets. If I had pressed my fears, he would have stopped, but it would have stifled something in him and I would have been no better than those who ran the Centre. I loved him enough to let him go. I didn�t really have a choice.

He had just returned from his third mission of mercy and it seemed that everything was fine, but something inside of me screamed that it wasn�t.

I don�t know if my arrival in this world had connected me on some unconscious level to Raines and Lyle, if it had awakened some extra sense that I�d never had before, or if I was simply full of pregnancy hormones, and fretting over nothing. I did know that I felt sure that disaster loomed over us, about to strike.

I didn�t resist when he led me back to the bed, murmuring something about me needing rest. I lay quietly, imprinting the feeling of his arms around me, his special scent surrounding me, his soft breathing feathering the hair at the back of my neck, in my memory. I stored up the images, and smells, and sounds and feelings like a squirrel storing nuts for winter.

If the Archangel Michael had come down in that minute and told me my fears were groundless; that Jarod and I and our offspring were perfectly safe, I would have called him a liar. I knew, with the same inborn instinct that keeps babies from climbing over cliffs, that our time together was almost over. I knew we�d be torn apart and I knew without question that I�d never meet anyone like him again.

After a while I felt Jarod relax and fall asleep again. I lay quietly, absorbing the essence of him and saying goodbye.

He was still asleep when the sun came up. I suspected that he�d gone the entire time he was away on 3 or fewer hours of sleep a night. Sometimes he still did that when he was with me in spite of my best efforts to train him into better sleeping habits.

The detached air of destiny that had settled on me in the middle of the night still covered me like a cloak. I kissed him gently, and when he didn�t stir I got ready for the day without waking him. Some part of me insisted that it was better this way.

Sally and I were going into Salt Lake to visit the hospital and the obstetrician who would deliver the babies. We had considered going as far away as Portland, or even Seattle, just to keep the Freeman�s home safe, but Sam insisted that we needed someplace realistically close. I had to agree since the births of my children in my other lifetime had been remarkably fast and easy. I didn�t know that this delivery would be like them, but I didn�t know it wouldn�t either.

The doctor in question was a college friend of Dr. Black�s, and he�d promised to keep my presence there under wraps. He said that they did the same thing when celebrities flew in from California all the time. It was the best we could do under the circumstances.

I left Jarod a note, so he wouldn�t worry, and, acting on the bone deep conviction that I wouldn�t be returning to the Flemming�s sanctuary, grabbed my black backpack of money from under the bed. This was the same money that Jarod�s friends had given me the day they helped me to escape from the Centre.

I�d barely touched the cash and still had more that ten thousand dollars crammed into the inconspicuous pack. It might be enough to help us out if we ended up in a jam, and if my premonition was wrong, then I could do some shopping in the more cosmopolitan city before we returned.

Sam drove Sally and I to the hospital and dropped us off. He didn�t wait for us to even go into the building before taking off for the nearest feed store. He was, like many men, highly uncomfortable with the birth aspect of pregnancy. He was a gentle man who�d delivered calves and foals and puppies, but the thought of a human birth scared him silly. Sally and I indulged his nerves and kept our laughter until after he�d left. We were still chuckling at his relieved expression as he�d driven off when the doctor met us in the main lobby.

Dr. Wright was a tall, thin, nervous man, and I disliked him intensely. He swallowed frequently, causing his prominent Adam�s apple to bob noticeably, and kept wringing his hands like he was washing up for surgery. He wouldn�t look either of us in the eye, but always seemed to be scanning the area for someone else.

My survival instincts were screaming halfway through his stammered introduction and Sally�s obviously were doing the same. We exchanged one look full of silent communication, and headed for the exit, leaving Dr. Wright sputtering incoherently behind us.

I could hear more than a little fear in his protests, and we speeded up in response.

"What do we do when we�re out?" I panted slightly, my added bulk having cut down on my wind. "Sam�s at the----feed store."

"We�ll worry about that when we get there." Sally replied grimly, her eyes scanning the hallways for anything out of place.

She and Sam knew about the Centre, although they�d never actually encountered the carefully hidden organization. They hadn�t doubted my description, though, perhaps because of the nightmares that Sally knew I still had. Or maybe it was the fact that Jarod had confirmed my story. Whatever the reason, I was never so happy that they believed me as I was then. If Sally and I had stopped to argue about the danger I would have been back in Lyle�s hands that very day.

We pushed our way through the people crowding the hospital for visiting hours and burst out the main entrance. Sally was already scanning the area for a cab, bus, or any other conveyance for us. We spotted Sam and his beat up truck at the same time.

"Sam!" Sally waved energetically, somehow managing to catch her husband�s attention in spite of the distance and chaos all around us.

He maneuvered the truck to the canvas overhang that protected patients from the elements and got out to help me in. Just then, a black Towncar turned into the hospital entrance, and my blood ran cold in anticipatory fear. Sam correctly interpreted my gasp of dismay and propelled me into the passenger seat with a force that he�d never have used under any other circumstances.

"You drive, I�ll cover." He ordered tersely, reaching around me for the shotgun hanging from a rack in the rear window.

"No, Sam!" I yelled frantically. "They kill you!"

He ignored me and climbed nimbly into the bed of the pickup. There he stood up, legs braced against the sway of the truck and took careful aim. He fired a shot that shattered the windshield of the Towncar and started it swerving wildly.

Sally had pulled onto the street, and was accelerating, and as pedestrians screamed and dove for cover. My premonition wasn�t any help; I was numb with shock and fear, but Sam and Sally seemed to be taking the insanity completely in their stride. It was a good thing for me. I couldn�t have defended myself if I�d had a bazooka in my hand to fire; I couldn�t even think.

Sam took careful aim and fired again, wounding the driver. But it was only the man�s shoulder and the car continued after us. I screamed at Sam to get down when I saw a man lean out of the back window, but it was too late. Two shots impacted on Sam�s body, throwing him out of our speeding truck. I screamed again, an incoherent cry of fear, sorrow, and pain.

"Quit shrieking and get the shotgun." Sally ordered me harshly, her eyes narrowed to a tight squint in an effort to hold back her tears. She gestured with her head towards the second gun on the window rack. "You�re going to have to take those bastards out, can you do it?"

"It�s been a long time since I fired a shotgun, but I�ll figure it out." I declared with more bravado than conviction.

I was still encased in a cold shell of fear, but I could move again. I dug out the gun and a box of shells from under the seat, in case I needed to reload. I could still see Sam lying limply on the roadside when I surfaced with a newly loaded gun. I aimed directly at the hood of the car, hoping that the powerful impact of a shotgun shell would damage something vital, and fired twice in quick succession.

The black car bucked as something quit working, and then limped to the side of the road, allowing us to leave them behind. But with them, we also left what was left of Sam�

Sally drove like a bat out of hell and-----well, I cried and trembled like a leaf in a gale. I couldn�t believe I was still free; that I�d eluded that trap. I couldn�t believe that Sam was dead---and I knew that it was my fault. If he and Sally hadn�t helped me they�d still be alive and well on their farm.

"Anne, you�re going to have to pull yourself together and help me figure out what to do next." Sally said tightly as soon as she was sure that the Towncar I�d taken out was the only one the Centre had on our tails.

"Sally, we have to call Jarod. We have to warn him." I whispered.

"I think we�re far enough away from them to stop for a few minutes." Sally answered, her face and shoulders held unnaturally still.

I knew she was firmly repressing her own grief, and wondered if I should offer to drive when we took off again. I decided not to. I couldn�t stop shaking. I knew I was in no condition to drive and I knew that we had to get moving again as soon as possible. As long as Sally could contain herself. she would be the safer driver.

I left Sally filling up the truck and made my way to the pay phone by the road. Somewhat to my surprise Jarod answered on the first ring.

"Jarod?" I quavered.

"Anne! What�s the matter? What�s wrong?"

The sound of his voice was a balm to my shattered emotions. He was still free and still okay.

"They knew, somehow, that we were going to the hospital. Probably the doctor we saw tipped them off, he certainly was nervous about something." I drew a deep breath, trying to control my fear and grief. "They----" my voice broke off anyway as fresh tears welled in my eyes.

"They got Sam." I choked out. "Sally and I got away. I don�t know where we are."

"Don�t tell me!" Jarod broke into my recital. "They may very well have the house bugged or under surveillance. Contact me on our Internet site, tonight? Okay?"

"Get out of there Jarod!" I begged suddenly. "I�m so afraid they�re closing in on you."

"Damn!" I heard Jarod curse, and then I heard the bashing in of the door and the crash of a window breaking. There were a few short exclamations, a couple of handgun shots, and a new voice sounded on the phone.

"Eve, is that you, my dear?" Lyle asked smoothly. "Why don�t you be a good girl and tell me where you are? It�s past time you came home; I�ve been missing all the fun we had together."

I could feel the blood drain from my face and I began to shake again uncontrollably. It was all I could do to hang up the phone. Sally came up a moment later to see what was keeping me and immediately leaped to the conclusion that Jarod had been captured.

"Don�t worry, honey." She promised me gently. "We�ll figure out a way to get him away from them."

"No, he�s still free." I managed to say and felt the color beginning to return to my fact as I realized things weren�t as bad as they could be. "It was Lyle, he spoke to me and I-----"

"He terrifies you, doesn�t he?" Sally stated, rather than asked as she guided me back to the truck with her arm around my shoulders.

I nodded mutely and cursed inwardly as tears once again began to fall. I hadn�t given her and Sam all of the details of my stay and the Centre, and I�d never mentioned any names, but Sally had been there through some of my nightmares, and she was a clever woman. She knew someone had systematically terrorized me and it didn�t take much of a leap to put Lyle�s name to it, given my breakdown at the moment.

"We need to get rid of the truck." I tried to stop the flow of tears by focusing on the problems at hand. "And then we need to find some way to change our appearances."

It worked. Planning just how I was going to stay out of Lyle�s sadistic hands did more to calm me down than a shot of Valium.

"Just how do you plan to finance all of this? I don�t think it would be a good idea to use my credit cards, do you?" Sally questioned dryly.

"No." I smiled wanly. "But I brought along my rainy day fund. I was thinking that I might want to start buy baby things. It�s all in the truck, in my black backpack."

"Anne, that�s the first good thing I�ve heard all day." Sally smiled with a hint of true pleasure.

I could see the black grief lurking behind her brisk practicality and I wondered just how she was coping with the loss of Sam. Was she simply ignoring his death? I had to hope not, if she was, then she�d break down sooner or later when her wall of ignorance fell, and I needed her strong.

I followed her to the truck, breathing deeply and erecting walls of my own to keep panic at bay. I knew I couldn�t allow myself the luxury of fear. The shocks of this day could well have been enough to send me into early labor, and if I didn�t relax soon I still could go into labor.

An hour later we were crossing the boarder into Wyoming in a comfortable RV that we had purchased from a retired airline pilot and his wife. They�d promised us they would keep our truck hidden in their garage for two weeks before taking it out to sell for whatever they could get for it. They had no trouble believing that I was fleeing an abusive spouse, Sally and I were both wired so tightly we looked ready to jump out of our skins at any moment.

I was still trembling slightly, unable to shake that brief brush with Lyle. Sally�s face had aged 10 years since this morning, and an aura of grief hung palpably around her. We actually worried the couple to the point that it was all we could do to convince them not to call the police immediately. Only my explanation that my husband was very rich and powerful, and that the police might actually be helping him search for us deterred them.

I described the Centre Sweepers and their Towncars and added that it was entirely possible that my husband would say that I was mentally unbalanced, seriously ill, or even a criminal. In short, I covered every eventuality I could come up with to help this nice couple keep our cover. Then I added what I think was the clincher for them. I asked them not to get themselves into trouble with the people searching for us.

"We�ll do everything we can to change our appearance as soon as we leave her." I told them. "And we�ll probably change vehicles a few more times, so if you need to tell them the truth, do it. I don�t want anyone to get hurt."

Sally�s face tightened further and ready tears pricked at my eyes with that. We were both thinking of Sam. The pilot looked grim and determined, I knew he was totally on our side at this point.

"You mean you don�t want anyone else to get hurt, don�t you?" He corrected me shrewdly.

I didn�t confirm or deny his guess, preferring not to mention Sam in any way. Not only was I afraid that I�d start crying again, but I was also afraid for them to know too much about our situation. I had no doubt that if Lyle suspected that these nice people knew anything he�d have them brought to the Centre and run through the wringer until he was convinced otherwise. Then he�d probably have them killed.

"So," Sally started as we pulled out of the driveway, "we�re going to change vehicles? How do you plan to manage that?"

"I don�t know." I replied honestly. "But I think we have to figure something out."

"You don�t think you�re overreacting a bit?"

"Tell me the truth, Sally, didn�t you think I was overreacting about the doctor and not being on any records?" I returned grimly.

"Point taken." She returned, just as grimly.

"I don�t know that the Centre has the resources to track us to that couple." I admitted after a moment�s thought. "But I don�t know that they don�t, either. I can�t risk the children on what might be safe. I have to assume that they have unlimited resources."

"I think you�re right." Sally agreed softly. "I just wish you weren�t."

"Right now I think it�s more important that we change our appearance." I told Sally firmly. I didn�t add that I was starting to have fairly regular contractions.

"Just what do you suggest?" She asked.

"Hair dye and colored contacts." I returned promptly. "I think that if we both have brown hair and eyes we�ll throw our pursuit off by a little while."

"You had done that back when we first found you." Sally remembered. "You�re hair was redder than it is now and your eyes were green, not blue."

"It worked for a long time too. I don�t think they�d ever have found me if it weren�t for the babies."

"You sound like you think they were checking every hospital for a woman having a baby."

"I think they suspected multiple births and they had someone in every major hospital watching for a strange woman coming in to give birth." I corrected grimly. "Thank God we were just going to meet him, not for the birth itself----the babies and I would be at the Centre now if we had been delayed even for a few minutes."

I spotted Sally staring at my hands, which had been absently massaging my tight abdomen.

"What?" I asked.

"How long have you been having contractions?" She asked pointedly.

"They aren�t contractions. They�re Braxton-Hicks."

"Every five minutes on the dot?" She scoffed. "How long?"

"Since I called Jarod." I finally admitted. "But they�ve been five minutes apart the whole time---they aren�t getting any stronger or closer together."

"We�ve got to get you to a hospital."

"Not until we�ve changed our appearance." I insisted.

"Anne, this is nothing to mess around with." Sally insisted.

"Sally, I�ve already raised two children---I�m a lot older than I look. I know what labor is like and I�m not in labor---yet." I replied firmly. "And the sooner we change our appearance, the sooner I�m going to be willing to go see a doctor."

"Anne, had anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn, hard headed, foolish female in existence?" Sally sighed with exasperation.

"Actually, no." I grinned impishly, feeling better than I had all day. I knew I�d won this argument. "But feel free, just make sure you turn off at the next decent sized town you see, okay?"

Once she realized that I wasn�t going to back down on the issue of disguises, Sally applied herself to finding a place where we could buy the supplies I wanted. Before nightfall our hair had been professionally dyed by beauticians, our eyebrows and eyelashes to match, and we wore decorative lenses to turn our blue eyes brown.

My hair had been straightened, cut to fall smoothly to my jaw line and I�d been given bangs. Sally�s was permed and cut into a style that fluffed naturally around her head when dry. Our final change was a "liquid" tan for each of us. The beautician we visited recommended a brand and the results were good enough that I felt the first ray of hope that I�d had in months. I wasn�t sure if even Jarod would be able to recognize me now.

The next morning Sally insisted that I get checked out by a doctor, and I couldn�t argue. The contractions had continued through the night, and, while they hadn�t gotten any closer together, they had strengthened to the point that they were uncomfortable. The anxiety I felt about Jarod wasn�t helping any, I was sure.

Sally had protested vehemently when I went out after our "makeover" to purchase a good laptop, but I had to reassure myself that Jarod had escaped the Centre too. Unfortunately, while I had no problem obtaining the laptop, Jarod wasn�t online at our site. Sally finally forced me to lie down sometime after midnight, swearing that she�d wake me if there was any activity, but I already knew there wouldn�t be.

When I got up the next morning Sally was dozing on the small sofa, the computer�s screensaver was creating mazes out of pipes, and my e-mail was empty. Jarod hadn�t left me a message. Was he safe? Did the Centre have him? What should I do?

Sally answered that one when I grimaced at the strength of one of the contractions, even though I was still confident I hadn�t gone into labor yet. She didn�t care, we weren�t going anywhere until I was checked out by an obstetrician. I agreed, reluctantly. As worried as I was about Jarod, there was still the chance that I was reading my condition wrong.

You see, when I was brought from reality to this place I was also combined with a genetically engineered fetus. I was me, but there were differences, like the fact that my hair was curly, and the fact that none of my childhood scars existed any more. I was still allergic to the scent of citrus, but I wasn�t allergic to cats anymore. Little things like that kept me from taking my prior experience for granted.

Dr. Ventura, the obstetrician Sally found, was pretty unhappy with me when he discovered that I�d waited so long to come in when I was pregnant with triplets. He read me quite a lecture on the perils of multiple births and then admitted me into the hospital over my protests.

I had been right, I wasn�t in labor, but the stress that I�d been under had me walking the line, and the babies weren�t ready yet. They needed to monitor me, the doctor explained, and start me on a regimen of steroids and hormones to hurry the development of the babies' hearts and lungs. He insisted that he could keep my presence at the hospital a secret, once he was convinced that I was truly terrified of being discovered, and declared that nothing could be as hazardous to the children�s health as my departure from the hospital.

I knew he didn�t have a clue, that the Centre was far worse than he, in his normal, everyday life, could conceive of, but I stayed. I took my medications, long walks around the hospital and grounds, (much to Sally�s dismay, she was sure I was going to go into labor on the elevator.), and searched the Internet incessantly for any sign of Jarod.

I know that my nightmares did more to convince the doctor to take my fears seriously than anything else. I ended up removing my choker at night, so I wouldn�t wake up everyone on the floor with my screams. I don�t know if it was the terrible feeling of vulnerability I had from being trapped in the hospital, the close encounter with the Centre, or the continued silence from Jarod, but my nightmares had doubled in frequency and intensity.

It was as though some part of my mind was trying to prepare me for the very worst. Some of my nightmares featured Jarod trapped in a burning, crumpled car or lying broken beside a burning, crumpled car, bleeding to death. They all featured flames and blood, but I was somehow still convinced that he was alive somewhere.

In the depths of an underground facility a man lay hovering between life and death. Doctors had managed to stitch up the various cuts that had allowed far too much of his life�s blood to escape. They�d reconstructed his shattered leg as best as they could, which, since they were the best, was pretty good. They�d removed his burst spleen, repaired torn arteries and veins to the kidneys, and reset the rib that had punctured his lung. They�d given him transfusions of blood that had been flown in from the four corners of the USA, because AB- is never in great supply, bandaged him, and pumped him full of antibiotics and painkillers.

But they could do nothing for the concussion but wait and see. His heart had stopped three times while they were operating, which had further compromised the oxygen flow to his brain. The doctors couldn�t tell the black suited men who�d coopted their services whether the man they�d labored over would ever regain consciousness, much less whether or not he�d retain his formidable intelligence if he did.

The men accepted this news with grim resignation, packed the surgeons up and returned them to their positions, with stern admonitions not to speak of this experience, ever, and settled down to around the clock nursing and surveillance. Three of the black suited men took turns sitting by the man�s beside, waiting, hoping, for his return to consciousness.

The other nightmares, the really bad ones, featured Lyle. I don�t honestly know exactly what they entailed, because I couldn�t remember more about them than the fact that Lyle was there, and I was terrified and hurting. Given my prior experience with Lyle, I suppose it wasn�t much of a surprise that he starred in my worst nightmares, but the upshot was that the doctor and the nursing staff were becoming increasingly concerned about my mental stability.

Sally had told them my story of an abusive spouse, but that wasn�t enough to explain the horrific dreams or the way I practically jumped out of my skin if anyone approached me from behind. I don't know who was more relieved when I went into labor again three weeks after I'd entered the hospital; the doctor and staff, or me.

When the doctor agreed that it was safe to finish the labor and deliver the children, I felt the first spark of hope I'd had since Sally had brought me into this place. A part of me was convinced that I wasn�t going to leave here on my own, that I was doomed to return to the Centre and Lyle�s attentions. But I told myself that if I was out of the hospital there might just be a chance to escape again.

Eight hours later I welcomed my son, Brennan into the world. Brone was born thirty minutes later. Both of the boys were a healthy 6 pounds some odd ounces. Both were alert, vocal, and were given high APGAR scores. Deirdre took almost an hour longer to be born. She was a few ounces short of five pounds and her cry was weak and tentative.

In the hours that followed it was determined that Brennan and Brone were as healthy as any full term child and just as ready for life. After nursing them I made my way to the nursery to find out about Deirdre. I knew the lack of news wasn't a good sign. It turned out that in addition to being a little underweight Deirdre's lungs and breathing reflex weren't developed as fully as her brothers'. She was placed in a preemie incubator where the air could be warmed, moistened, and extra oxygen added to it.

We spent another nerve wracking week waiting for Deirdre to mature enough to leave the hospital. I spent the time waffling between sending the boys away with Sally, so they'd be safe, and keeping them with me, so they'd be near their mother. I always chose to keep them with me, but each day brought me closer and closer to deciding to send them off.

With that decision hovering in the back of my mind, I spent almost every moment with them, learning their personalities and quirks, building memories to treasure. I was far too aware of how fragile our family bond was; how easily the Centre could rend it to pieces.

Brennan was a quiet child, rarely crying and quickly appeased. He was alert, though, gazing around him during his brief periods of awareness and trying to see everything his nearsighted newborn eyes could see. I wondered if he was going to be scholarly, like my first son had been.

Brone was noisier, more active. Sometimes he seemed to wail just for the joy of exercising his lungs. He wiggled his way to the very top of his bassinet every time he was laid in it until his head touched the far end. I foresaw a great career for him in sports. Even if he turned out to have no athletic ability I had a feeling I�d want him in sports just to give him an outlet for all of that energy.

Deirdre, though, she was special to me right from the start. It wasn't just because she was more at risk than the boys, or that she was the only girl, although those facts helped, but it was her quiet determination to get her own way, starting almost as soon as she was born. When I went to the nursery to find out how she was doing she was crying quietly, lacking the lung development to put any force into it. The moment the nurse handed her to me, however, she quieted, drifting off to sleep in moments. When she was placed in the incubator she'd cry if I wasn't close by, and calm if I was near enough to touch the plastic of her little shell. The nurses had tried to let her "cry it out", but they gave in when she was still crying three hours later. As the doctor said, crying is good for the lungs, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!

My fears had eased slightly now the babies were born and we could be mobile again in an emergency. I still wasn't happy, though, and I still had the nightmares. Deirdre was kept in my room, except for periodic exams, and it seemed that every time I awoke from a nightmare she was crying too. Even as my body began to tighten back up and regain its pre-pregnancy shape, my face began to reflected my lack of sleep and hours of worry.

I knew, when the doctor finally, grudgingly allowed that it should be safe for us to leave, that he only agreed because we met the minimum in health standards and that he'd have preferred to keep us longer. I think he was afraid that I'd suffer a complete nervous breakdown if he did, though, and that prompted him to authorize our release. I was grateful that my anxiety hadn't caused him to question my fitness as a mother and try and separate me from my children. He couldn't possibly have understood how valid my fears were.

So at noon, exactly four weeks after I'd entered the Lander Valley Medical Center, Sally and I and my babies left. Sally had already secured the boys in the RV in their carseats and I was being wheeled out with Deirdre bundled to my chest in a baby carrier when I heard the noise behind me.

I remember that moment with vivid clarity to this day. It replays in my mind in slow motion, and even at the time there was an amazing sense of deja vu, as if I�d already lived through this moment a hundred times. I looked behind me to see the dark suited figures of Centre Sweepers, and even as the fear crashed over me like a tidal wave, another part of me simply stood back and said;

"I knew it! Didn�t I tell you this would happen? You�re in trouble now!"

The rest of me just leaped out of the wheelchair and began to run for the exit, knowing all the while that it was too late for me. I saw Sally come in the front doors, probably to see what was taking me so long and I screamed at her to get away. In the next instant I felt something strike my leg with the force of a mule's kick and very faintly heard the sound of a gunshot. Horror spread over Sally's face and I went down when the leg gave way under me. I felt no pain. I didn�t even understand at first that I�d been shot, and tried to stand again, but the leg buckled again.

"Get out of here, Sally!" I yelled again as I fell the second time. "Get the boys to safety!"

I ignored the gorilla in the black suite crouching down to grab my arm, as if I was going anywhere anyway. I was intent only on saving what I could of my family, resigned to my own fate. I fleetingly wished that Deirdre was safe too, wished that I hadn�t kept her with me, but the pain from the gunshot finally made itself known, and for a few minutes it was all I could do to stay conscious.

At the door Sally wavered, obviously torn, but she finally spun around and dashed out of the hospital when the goon holding my arm began to bring his gun up on her. Tears of pain, regret, and grief filled my eyes as she retreated. Joy that she and the boys were getting away warring with an astonishing sense of abandonment. Deirdre and I were on our own.

Slowly, trying to think past the pain that crashed over me now in waves, I pushed myself up to a seated position, ignoring the iron grip on my arm. I had already lost a lot of blood, a puddle was growing on the floor beneath me. Doctors, nurses, orderlies, and anyone else who'd heard the shot were in the hall talking frantically. I felt the world beginning to narrow into the tunnel of vision that indicated loss of consciousness, and struggled to stay aware, afraid of what might happen to Deirdre if I passed out.

"A bandage might be a good idea." I managed to say in between pain cycles. "Unless Lyle has no more use for my uterus."

I had no idea at the time how prophetic that statement was. The guard shouted something down the hall, and a Sweeper separated himself from the fray to administer some rough first aid to me. Dr. Ventura had started to come to my assistance at that call, but an impassive black man that I knew to be Raines' personal sweeper, Willie, blocked him firmly. Ventura spat out something, obviously incensed, but lost the argument when Willie produced an official looking document and waved it under his nose.

I felt guilty again at the sick look of comprehension he shot me. He finally understood my need to be gone from the hospital, but it was too late. One more life changed simply because I passed by. One part of me even started to believe I deserved what was coming next simply because I�d caused so much pain to so many people.

A pair of legs, covered in black wool trousers blocked my vision. I looked up, my heart sinking to a new low because I already knew who I'd see. Lyle gloated discretely over me and leaned down slightly to say;

"Miss me, Eve? I certainly missed you. I can�t wait to show you all of the wonderful plans I�ve made for us in your absence."

He chuckled cheerfully when I closed my eyes and covered my face with my one good hand.

He could see her crying, but he didn't know who she was. Her auburn curls tumbled wildly down her shoulders, a violent purple bruise highlighted the fair skin of one cheek bone, but it was the blue eyes that struck his innermost self. They weren't the usual pale blue of so many, but a brilliant, dark blue, glittering like sapphires in tear filled eyes. Who was she? He wondered again. Why did she look at him so? Why did he feel that he had failed her when he didn't recognize her? Slowly she retreated from him, or was pulled away, he couldn't tell which. She was clutching a small bundle to her chest. He watched as she vanished in the darkness surrounding them like a tunnel and heard the crash of a heavy, metallic door or gate. The sound echoed around him with the finality of the gates of Hell closing. And still those eyes called out to him.

He knew he'd let her down somehow, even as his eyes opened in the strange room. Where was he? He recognized the beep of an EKG monitor, the sting of an IV in the back of his hand, and knew that the clear plastic bag on the IV stand next to his bed was feeding simple saline solution into his vein. A hospital room, ICU by the looks of it, he decided absently.

Then it struck him. ICU? Saline Solution, IV stands? How did he know what all these things were? Why was he here? What had happened? Most important of all----WHO WAS HE?

"So, you're finally awake."

His slightly panicky eyes turned to a black man, neatly dressed in a black suit, seated by his bed. Why did the sight of that suit frighten him so?

"What happened?" He croaked, his throat and mouth amazingly dry.

"We were hoping you could tell us that." The man's face was completely impassive. No threat, no encouragement, simply neutral.

"I don't know." He whispered painfully, closing his eyes, but opening them an instant later when those tearful blue eyes shone in the darkness. "I don't even know who I am�" He admitted in a barely audible voice.

"You should still be asleep." A nurse bustled in, preparing a syringe.

"No! Please! I need to know---" His voice trailed off as she emptied the contents of the syringe into the clear tube leading to the back of his hand.

"What do you need to know?" The black man prompted emotionlessly.

"Who she is." He mumbled drowsily. "And what she needs----from----me�."

Where I grew up, in the eastern Pacific Northwest we could get some really cold December days, and at that moment I felt like I was out in the middle of one of the coldest, unprotected by so much as a coat.

And alone---you don't know what loneliness is until you've lost everything you've ever known and you find yourself in the hands of a madman. If Deirdre hadn't been cradled in my good arm, crying for all she was worth, I would have shut down completely. As it was, I heard the argument between Dr. Ventura and Lyle from a chilled distance.

One of the sweepers checked the rough field dressing that had been applied to my leg and deposited me into a wheelchair, making Ventura's argument that the hospital should treat me before I left moot. I heard him promising to call the authorities as they wheeled me out of the hospital, but nothing truly penetrated my icy shield of terror.

The was no hope on heaven or earth for me now, I was in Lyle's hands and if my baby girl hadn't needed me I would have been planning how best to kill myself in that very instant. Even the pain of my rough treatment barely penetrated my lonely, despairing walls of fear.

"Where's Jarod, Eve?" Lyle asked, settling himself next to me on the back seat of the Towncar.

"I don't know." I answered dully, adjusting Deirdre to feed her.

It was far too early for her to be hungry, but she needed the comfort of sucking and she wouldn't touch a pacifier. I ignored Lyle's intrusive gaze, the determined disinterest of the sweepers, and my own choking fear. Fortunately, I not only produced enough milk for three babies, but I also had no problems with the milk not letting down, no matter how upset I was. Deirdre settled down quickly, nursing for all she was worth in her distress.

"How is it you can speak?" Lyle demanded next.

"Jarod made me this." I indicated the choker around my neck.

Oh, did I neglect to mention the fact that Raines had my vocal chords removed during my first stay at the Centre? Lose you vocal chords, my friend, and it's all over---you'll never speak again----unless, of course, you know a genius who can make a voice synthesizer into a cameo brooch and include a microchip that interprets the movements of your neck and mouth muscles to determine words, and pitch, and volume.

I didn't even flinch when Lyle snagged it off my neck---I knew that was exactly what he would do next. I just held my daughter, comforting her with my now silent presence, and built the icy walls higher. My only chance to survive would be to become a rock, and island of stone that Lyle's sadism would never affect.

Why did I trust him? I wondered, seeing Jarod's face in my mind. Why didn't I turn and run like my head told me too?

It's not his fault. My inner voice chirped up.

I knew she would, she was my companion in times of trouble, sometimes helping me to be strong, sometimes tearing down my will to survive.

Lyle found the hospital, Jarod didn�t lead him to you.

True. I had to be honest, although I often wished I didn't. Still, it wasn't Jarod's fault I was being hustled back to the Centre with all speed.

Deirdre had fallen asleep, so I moved her, and straightened my clothing, still resolutely ignoring Lyle unless he spoke to me. He pocketed the cameo and leaned closer to me, seeming disappointed when I didn't flinch.

"Where did she take the other children?" He asked me softly, reaching out with his gloved hand to stroke my cheek.

I tried to repress a shudder as terror beat against the dungeon wall where I'd imprisoned it. I shrugged. I didn't know. The slap rocked my head back and Deirdre threatened to awaken.

"Put the brat down." He snarled.

`Where?' I mouthed, looking around.

This trip hadn't been very well planned because there wasn't so much as a baby carrier.

"Give it to one of the Sweepers!"

Have you ever seen a big, burly man look like he was about to be tortured? Both of the sweepers looked like a horse asked to walk through a snake pit, nostrils flared and eyes rolling.

"Sir, please!" One of them protested uncomfortably.

"Take it!' Lyle demanded. "It's a baby for God sake! It won't bite you!"

I had already unstrapped the carrier, so I cautiously held out my daughter to the Sweeper who'd spoken. Looking like he'd rather crawl naked over razor wire, he took her, holding her fragile head correctly, much to my relief. She remained blissfully asleep, also to my relief. I didn�t trust Lyle�s patience around babies especially not around my baby.

"Now, the other babies----where?" Lyle returned to the subject at hand.

"I really don't know." I signed, hoping in a distant way that he'd believe me. "You killed her husband, she knows her home isn't safe, I don't know where she'd go�"

Lyle's fist tightened, and a part of me gibbered in terror, but all he did was pound it on his knee.

"Well," he mused softly, "we'll find out soon enough if you know anything. Once we get back to the Centre we�ll have to remove that bullet from your thigh. There�s nothing that says we have to use an anesthetic, though."

I had to remind myself to breathe. Then I wondered why I'd bothered, Deirdre or not, I wasn't sure if I was willing to keep breathing with this to look forward to.

Rock, I told myself, you are a rock---an island----a COLD rock---nothing to feel, just endure.

�Jarod, where are you?�

"Jarod, I'm afraid." She told him soberly, her blue eyes dark and solemn, her auburn hair curling gently around his face. "They could trace you to us, and I----" She broke off, tears filling her eyes, making them glitter like jewels.

"Don't worry so, Annie." He heard himself whisper, and watched his hand caress her hair. He loved her; the part of him that watched this scene realized with amazement.

"I can't go back there." She told him, fear shining from her face, flooding through her voice. "I wouldn't survive it again."

"I'll never let them find you, dear." He heard himself promise. "You're safe now."

"Oh, Jarod!" She whispered at that, her eyes so filled with sadness that he felt his heart breaking. He knew that he had broken that promise. Wherever it was she feared to go, she had been taken there. He had to make it right! He had to save her!

"Annie!" The sound of his own voice woke him up.

"Back again, I see." The same man sat by his bed, his eyes bloodshot and slightly sunken with fatigue. "Who's Annie?"

"I don't know!" His voice was tortured. "But she needs me. I've got to find her. Got to save her!"

"From what?"

"I don't know!" His chest heaved with frustration and pain----emotional, not physical. The heart monitor picked up its pace accordingly.

"Better calm down or the nurse will sedate you again." His companion advised blandly.

He utilized relaxation techniques he hadn't even known he knew, and in moments the heart rate had settled to a slow, steady pace.

"Impressive."

"Who am I?" He demanded abruptly. "Who are you? And why am I here?"

The man smiled suddenly, his white teeth contrasting with his dark chocolate skin.

"As I said before, we were hoping you could tell us."

"Jarod. She said my name was Jarod." He remembered slowly.

"She?"

"Annie. My Annie." He answered slowly, savoring the rightness of those words. "She needs me. I have to get out of here."

"You won't be going anywhere for some time." The black man gestured to Jarod's left leg. He hadn't noticed it before, but it hung suspended above the bed, encased in a plaster cast, and with odd bits of metal coming out here and there.

"What happened?" This time Jarod looked at the man, velvet brown eyes to midnight black, demanding an answer.

"You were in a car accident. Before that, we don't know." The man answered him steadily. "Your IDs were many and varied, although they all had the first name of Jarod. Tell me, Jarod, what do you know about the Centre?"

The Centre. The name echoed in his mind ominously. What did he know about the Centre?

"I don't know." He heard himself answer again. "But I think I need to----for her."

Her eyes had looked weary, and sad, and frightened. And she'd been hiding her heart when he met her, he remembered that now too. It had been bad, whatever had brought them together---he sensed that. Remembered feeling trapped, helpless, and her soft touch, easing the fear, giving him companionship. She'd never quite been able to believe he cared, he knew that too, and he'd never known how to make it clear to her, even though he was a genius.

A genius? I'm a genius?

He thought about it, and then realized it was true. He knew the objects in his hospital room so well that he could have used any of them, from the crash cart the nurse was wheeling out of his room to the suture kit in the upper right drawer of the cabinet in front of him. And the man beside him reeked of FBI or CIA or some other government policing agency. He knew without thinking about it all of the training manuals and procedures for each of those agencies. He knew how to fly a small plane, a helicopter, the space shuttle. He knew how to survive in the wilderness, tie every knot in the nautical manual and then some. He knew more than most people even hoped to think about.

But he didn't know, still, who he really was. More important to him now, he didn't know who she really was, or how he could convince her to trust him, to love him as he loved her. How could he take away her pain, relieve her of the burden he sensed she bore? How could he find her again?

"I have to remember." He said quietly into the stillness of the room. "I have to save her."

"From what?" His still nameless companion asked again.

"From the darkness. Maybe, if I can bring her into the sunshine she'll finally understand how much I need her; how much I love her."

I could see his face, as clearly as if he was sitting in front of me. A smile, creasing those cheeks, sparkling in those velvet brown eyes.

"You're my sunshine, my Annie." He teased, curling a strand of my reddish-brown hair around one finger. "My sunrise, maybe."

I believed him. He has that unique ability to instill trust in the wariest heart, you know, but as soon as he left the doubts would start again. Was he coming for me? Did I dare hope that he would want to rescue me, much less be able to? I could almost swear I heard him crying out for me, begging me to forgive him for my capture. Or maybe it was just not being captured with me.

Foolishness! My alter ego insisted. He's done nothing that needs forgiving.

`I know.'

Red pain, with yellow white sparks pulled me back to the present.

"Don't ignore me, Eve. Don't EVER ignore me!" Lyle hissed malevolently.

I was gasping, trying to recover from the shock of a blow directly over the bullet hole in the back of my thigh. I thought for a minute that I�d throw up, pain does that to me sometimes, but I focused on a song instead. One of the old songs that I�d forced myself to remember during my initial stay at the Centre as a way to keep my mind sharp. It worked, and the pain began to recede.

`Rock----I am a Rock----there---is---no---pain.' I told myself, breathing deeply, telling the pain to wash through.

It had some effect, I didn't pass out or throw up.

I'd already tried to retreat to my safe place, the sunny orchard that had hidden me as a child from my father's rage and later from Lyle. It was gone----I couldn't reach it anymore. But I had to do something, I was sure that I would never survive without distance, without walls, without armor. And I had to survive, I admitted.

I couldn't leave Deirdre alone�

Deirdre started to cry again when they transferred us to the jet. Lyle tried to make me walk from the van to the plane, laughing as my leg gave out. The Sweepers seemed revolted, which made me want to laugh. Didn�t they know by now what Lyle was? One of them showed remarkable initiative and courage by sweeping me into his arms and striding towards the waiting plane. Lyle must have sensed their disgust because he didn�t stop them.

`Hell. I'm in hell�' I admitted, taking my daughter wearily into my arms. `God, how can I survive this? How can I save my daughter from this lunatic?�

I looked into her clear blue eyes and I promised her, with all that was in my heart, that I would protect her. No matter what it might take, I would protect her.

"Don't give up, Annie. " I heard that familiar hot fudge voice whisper in my ear. "I need you too. I need your kindness to strangers, your beautiful smile, your sparkling blue eyes. Hold on, hold on----"

It wasn�t as bad as I�d feared. It was both worse, and better.

The removal of the bullet from my thigh was undoubtedly the most painful experience of my life�surpassing even Lyle�s inventive tortures later, but it was nothing compared to the implementation of Lyle�s master plan for me.

He�s always hated Jarod, you know. It doesn�t matter that Jarod�s life in the Centre was no walk in the park, he felt that Jarod had been honored; given the privileged position in life. He was convinced that he was as much a Pretender as Jarod, and all he lacked was the proper training to bring out his genius. He was determined to have a child that would prove his point.

A child with the best genes available to ensure its inheritance as a Pretender. A child he could raise within the Centre, that would have the training to surpass Jarod and wipe even his memory from the annals of Centre history. One guess as to who the lucky mother was to be.

He didn�t even wait for my leg to heal, or for my body to finish recovering from the birth of triplets. A part of me had known that it was coming. He�d made his intentions clear enough during my initial stay, and I knew he couldn�t resist the temptation to destroy something that Jarod cared about.

Terror isn�t an adequate word what I felt when he entered the barren cell where they�d thrown me, I literally felt my mind splintering into pieces. And that�s when she showed up.

Lyle advanced on me, his intentions written clearly on his face, and I began to retreat within my mind. I seriously doubt I would have returned if she hadn�t emerged from the shadows of my mind; a part of me that I hadn't known existed.

Okay, I had known about her, but had forgotten. I remembered her the instant I felt her, and worse, I remembered why she existed. I had pushed her from my mind before because I couldn't allow myself to remember the horrors I'd been subjected to as a child to remain in my conscious memory.

Horrors that made my father's beatings appear positively easy to bear.

She'd saved me at that time, taking all of the pain and degradation upon herself. Then she saved me again, when my grandfather died and I no longer needed her, by vanishing and taking the memories with her. She was saving me now, her return triggered by the similarity between my situation now and then.

She was my other self. The one that could survive anything because survival was her only function. She couldn�t really be classified as human, she existed on a purely instinctive level and understood only two realities; bad and not bad. I embraced her arrival with unqualified joy and scampered off into the darkest recesses of my mind, allowing her to do what she�d been created to do.

I could still feel the torture, like distant echoes of pain falling down a deep cavern. I could bear that, if I didn�t allow myself to dwell on what it meant. Instead I turned to the memories that had been released with her.

They were terrible too, but I could look at them with a semblance of calm because they�d happened so long ago. I had been a child then, an entirely different person. Now I knew why the threat of rape had terrified me so.

The only difference between Lyle and my grandfather was that Lyle wasn�t related to me. Both men were sadists. Neither could have normal sexual relations with a woman; they literally couldn�t function with a female who wasn�t terrified and hurting. Now, with the cushion of time separating me from their deeds, I can almost feel sorry for them.

I�ll never know if I would have returned voluntarily after Lyle had left. I�d like to believe I would have; that I was strong enough then to face grim reality, but I don�t know. I know I hadn�t made any effort to come forth, even though Lyle had been gone for almost an hour. She hadn�t done anything more than cover our battered body with the ragged excuse for a blanket that we�d been given.

It was the sum total of our bedding, and, after Lyle�s visit, our only covering. She didn�t stir when the door crept open, didn�t even look up. I agreed with her. I didn�t want to know if Lyle had returned. But then I heard the unmistakable cry of my daughter, and suddenly I was back in full possession of our body, sitting up as rapidly as the pain would let me.

The Sweeper who held my daughter looked at me with open pity. He was the one who�d carried me into the plane. If I�d had my voice I would have told him that a conscience was a ticket to certain death in this place, but I didn�t, and I had other things to think about.

I reached for my baby, suddenly feeling the pain of my engorged breasts. It had been masked by my more immediate injuries, but Deirdre�s hiccuping sigh and tearstained face brought my condition to the fore.

I didn�t so much take her from the man as claim her, taking the time just to hold her closely and give her the love I hoped would see her through the coming days. She seemed to need me as much as I needed her---she didn�t even try to wiggle loose or demand her feeding, although I knew she had to be starving by now.

"We don�t have much time." The Sweeper finally prompted uneasily. "I have to have her back inside the hour."

I hoped he could see the gratitude in my face when I nodded my understanding. When he departed with her, Deirdre was sated and sleeping peacefully. Nothing in my life has ever been as hard as giving her back to him was.

"She wouldn�t eat; wouldn�t stop crying." The Sweeper explained gruffly, pausing by the door. "I can�t do this often, but Tina, she�s the baby�s night nurse, is my girlfriend. She thought it would be better for the baby to be with you for at least a little while, so she�s covering for us now. I�ll try to come again tomorrow. I just hope the little one doesn�t make herself sick with her crying."

I nodded again, my lips trembling with tears that I struggled to contain until he left. Then I curled into a tight ball of pain; mental, emotional, and physical and cried myself to sleep.

�Where are you, Jarod?� I asked again. �You promised that you�d protect me from them! Where are you?�

"Annie, Annie no!" Jarod woke from the nightmare in a cold sweat, sitting straight up in his bed, heart pounding and chest heaving.

"Another nightmare?" The same black man who'd been by his bed when he'd regained consciousness three weeks ago stood in his doorway.

"I don't think they're nightmares, Curt." Jarod answered slowly, raking his fingers through his hair in a fashion that indicated his distress, although he didn't realized it.

He wasn't in the hospital room anymore, but in a spartan, barrack like room. His leg was still encased in a cast, but it had been changed into a walking cast a week ago, much to his relief. His memories had returned in bits and pieces until suddenly, one morning about two weeks after he'd awakened, he remembered everything except the actual accident that had beaten him up so badly. He knew he'd probably never remember that.

Over the weeks he'd been recovering he had gotten to know the man watching over him; Special Agent Curtis Washington.

Curt never really told Jarod which branch of the government he was working for, but Jarod didn't really care. All that mattered to him was that Curtis was working to bring down the Centre and that he wanted Jarod to help him and the rest of his team.

"I know that they're funded, at least in part, and protected by one or more of the so called "black agencies" in our government, Jarod." He'd admitted during one of their initial talks. "But that just makes it more imperative that we put a stop to them. What they're doing is contrary to everything America stands for. It's the job of my agency to keep our government as close to the ideal as we can."

"So what are you doing about the political double talk going on?" Jarod had grinned.

"Not a thing." Curt grinned back. "That's up to the voters."

No, what Curt's nameless organization handled was riding herd on the secret government programs and groups that violated America's ethical foundation in the name of national security. They were nameless for a reason----every one of those secret groups would cheerfully have wiped out this counter organization if they'd known enough to do so.

"You could say that where they're "black agencies" that we're a "white agency"." Curt had explained cheerfully.

Curt and his people had been trying to track down Jarod for as long as the Centre had. Fortunately for him, they'd been very close when Jarod lost consciousness while fleeing from Lyle and the rest of his Centre pursuers, and crashed the Towncar he'd escaped in. His precipitous departure from Sam and Sally's house through the living room window had left him with several nasty slashes. He had lost a little bit too much blood and passed out, which had caused the accident.

One of Curt's men had reached the hospital Jarod had been taken to before the Centre had even discovered the wrecked Towncar. By the time they had started searching for Jarod in local hospitals, Jarod was being air lifted to this secret base, hidden deep underground. It still made him smile, being in an extensive underground building again.

The first thing he'd done, when he remembered who and what he was, was to demand to be released. Curt had opened the door, revealing that there were no guards.

"You aren't a captive, Jarod, you're a guest. And, I hope, a member of our team. We know your abilities and it's the belief of my superiors that having you on our payroll will make the difference in our efforts against the Centre. However, if you choose not to help us, you are free to go anytime you wish. We've even been instructed to provide you with funds and transportation, since it's not our desire to see you back in the Centre's hands. But, Jarod," Curt had added seriously. "For your own sake, could you wait a little before trying to leave?"

Curt gestured at the leg, still in traction at that time.

"You need to heal, and I've been informed you'll probably need physical therapy to regain full use of that leg. I really don't want to see you take off and end up captured because you couldn't run fast enough."

Even before he had a reason to, Jarod found himself trusting the agent. He'd tested his "freedom" of course, demanding a wheelchair the day they'd taken his leg out of traction and changed his cast, and taking an elevator to the surface of the installation.

It was hidden beneath the barn of a working farm, and Jarod was irresistibly reminded of Donoterase. But unlike that installation, there were no people shooting at him, no locked doors, and the guards were polite and helpful. Finally convinced, Jarod threw himself into helping Curt and Curt's organization.

"So, if it isn't a nightmare, what is it?" Curt asked, pulling Jarod out of his memories.

"Anne and I share a bond." Jarod told Curt seriously. "I don't know if it is because of the genetic engineering that was done on both of us or what, but I sense her, usually when I'm asleep. I think she can sense me too, but she's been blocking me out lately."

Curt nodded, accepting what most people would consider insanity at face value. His organization hadn't known about Annie, but Jarod had told him all about her during his month long stay. While Jarod�s words sounded implausible at best, their psychiatrist had declared that Jarod was mentally as sound as his life could let him be. She insisted that he wasn�t delusional, and Curt had taken her word for it. They all knew that Jarod could do things that were nothing short of impossible, and that his ability to get into the mind of someone else was almost frightening.

"I'm sure that she's been recaptured by them and that she's in Lyle's hands. Some of the things I've been seeing in my dreams could only come from his twisted mind. They think they've broken her." His brown eyes were anguished as flashes of Anne's torture passed before her eyes.

"I take it you think they're mistaken?"

"Curt, she isn't the clone-construct they thought they were getting, she's got the mind and the memories of a woman who lived another life. And that life wasn't pretty for most of the beginning. My Annie is a survivor, and she's stronger than even she knows. She's fooled them."

"How?" Curt was skeptical, having been well trained in the sciences of torture, brainwashing, and breaking people. He didn�t want Jarod to get his hopes up if there truly was no hope for the woman he loved. Jarod understood his skepticism and smiled sadly.

"She grew up in an abusive home. She developed a way to remove the part of her that suffered from the rest of her. I think she's done the same thing now. Part of her has certainly been broken, just as Lyle would want, but most of her is just withdrawn, waiting for a chance to escape."

"Let me guess, you want us to storm the Centre and rescue her?" Curt asked, his face expressing the impossibility of that happening.

"Yes!" Jarod hissed fiercely. "And I want to leave right now!"

He glared at Curt, pain lurking in his eyes as he went on in a quieter voice.

"But I know that�s not going to happen. I know we aren�t ready yet, and it isn't just Annie that we have to worry about."

"That's right. The Centre's monstrosities effect countless people around the world." Curt agreed grimly. Jarod smiled a self-depreciating smile.

"That's true, but I was thinking in terms of my children."

"What?!" Curt was astonished. This was the first he'd heard of children.

"Annie was pregnant with my children, two boys and a girl. The girl is with her now----I'm not sure where my sons are, but I am asking you to try and find them for me. Since I haven't had any indication that Sally is with Anne, maybe she escaped somehow with my boys." Jarod explained. "All I know for sure is that Deirdre is with Anne, and that Anne believes the boys are alive, but somewhere else."

"I'll set some of my men on it right away." Curt assured Jarod swiftly.

Like most of his organization, he was a bachelor, but he had nieces and nephews, and his heart shuddered at the thought of any of them being at the Centre's mercy. He was astonished, and deeply grateful, at Jarod�s self-restraint about racing to the rescue of his woman. It wasn�t what Jarod�s history had led them to expect of him, but the man he�d met weeks ago was a different person than the man he�d been tracking for the past 4 years.

"We have to speed things up, though." Jarod added. "I�m trying to be reasonable about this, but Lyle has my wife and every moment she spends with him is hell. He�s already hurt her badly, and I can�t sit back while he hurts her more. I want more men working under me."

Curt nodded his head once.

"Done." He agreed instantly, understanding Jarod�s position. If it had been him, he wasn�t sure that he�d be able to show the same restraint. He just hoped that Anne was as strong as Jarod claimed she was, for Jarod�s sake.

Jarod looked at him, his face set and grim. "Curt, ask Dr. Miles to come see me too, will you? I need to talk to her before I start planning the next phase of our strategy."

Curt nodded, his eyes showing the sympathy that men often find hard to express openly. "I'd want to talk to her too, if I was in your shoes." He admitted soberly. "And I want you to know, I respect the way you've worked with her on dealing with the issues that concerned us so much. Not many men would even be willing to admit that their minds had been damaged by a life like yours, much less be willing to work to change it."

"Anne was always on me to get therapy." Jarod admitted with a bitter-sweet smile. "I never accepted that there was anything wrong with me that I couldn't handle. Now, now that it�s almost too late, I can see that she was right. If I hadn�t been blinded by my hatred of the Centre, if I�d looked for some way to take them down months ago, instead of playing my petty little mind games with them, Anne and the babies would be safe with me right now."

"You don�t really know that, Jarod." Curt contradicted him quietly. "You may be a genius, but you�re only one man, how much do you think you could have honestly accomplished by yourself?"

"More than I have." Jarod answered stubbornly. "But might-have-beens accomplish nothing. What�s important now is that I need to be able to think clearly if I'm going to rescue Anne and make a place where she and our children can be safe and secure. At the moment all I can think about it smashing Lyle�s pretty face into a shapeless pulp---which is satisfying, but hardly productive."

Curt gave him an understanding smile and a nod before exiting the room. Jarod took advantage of his en suite bathroom to shower away some of his negative thoughts Dr. Miles came to help him work through his burning anger and hatred for the people who had destroyed his life for so long, and were now torturing the woman he loved. He was reasonably calm by the time she arrived.

My "training" began the next day. He had a secret room somewhere in the Centre, which shouldn�t surprise anyone. It was there that he played with knives and scalpels, an amazing assortment of whips, and branding irons. Yes, I�ll take some of the scars from that time with me to my grave.

Time ceased to have meaning during this period. I don�t know how long it was, it certainly seemed like forever. Only Deirdre and the nightly dreams I had of Jarod kept me going. Even with my alternate taking most of the abuse, enough of it filtered through to make my life a hell that was nearly unbearable. And the day came when even my alternate couldn�t take it.

It took two days of catatonia before he realized that we weren�t faking it; that his source of entertainment was gone. Then he bustled us to the infirmary where we were treated for various injuries and kept sedated for another two days. It was effective---we started to return, our body tricked into believing we were finally safe. Somehow Lyle knew, even though I know we hadn�t given any sign of cognizance.

He whisked us away from the infirmary, and back to his torture room. He didn�t touch us again, thank God, but he described in excruciating detail just what he had planned for me if I didn�t "shape up". She took over again, cowering and shivering to the point that he was satisfied, and released us for a blessed period of privacy and silence.

The next period remains foggy in my mind. Lights were always on and bright, meals came infrequently, personal hygiene, comfort, even peace and quiet became distant memories. Soon I became nothing more than a disembodied observer; noting the horror but not a part of it. �

The cell was a 4' X 6' cement box, unadorned with so much as a slab of wood to sleep on. There were no windows, just a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling far above her reach, and the speakers in every corner. If her head started to nod, her eyes close, noise would blast from them, loud enough to wake the dead. She didn�t care anymore. She squatted in her corner, rocking mindlessly, fingers twining and untwining constantly, and mouth moving silently.

Suddenly she stiffened and cocked her head alertly. A moment later she seemed to collapse in on herself, rocking faster and lips trembling and they too moved faster. If she could have, she would have been whimpering.

He was coming.

Lyle entered the room, black suit, gloved hand, impeccable grooming and all. Instead of the Sweepers who usually accompanied him, though, a thin bald man with a squeaky oxygen tank followed him into the room.

Both men wrinkled their noses at the stench in the room.

As soon as the two men had entered the room the woman had ceased rocking and thrown herself to her knees, forehead pressed to the cold hard floor. Raines frowned at her shivering form.

"You said she was ready, Lyle, not that she was mindless." He rasped unhappily.

"She understands well enough." Lyle avowed confidently. He snapped the fingers of his undamaged hand. "Here, Eve." He ordered briefly, pointing to a spot by his side.

Looking like a crab the woman scurried on hands and feet to the spot indicated, kneeling again as soon as she was in place.

"Are you happy, Eve?" He asked her, his voice deceptively gentle. She raised her head and shoulders off of the floor high enough to nod her head energetically.

"Do you want to leave the Centre, dear? To walk in a park maybe?"

Such sweetness, such concern. She wasn�t fooled; she knew his tricks now.

She shook her head so energetically that bits of filth flew from her hair, striking the men's trousers. She knew that there would doubtlessly be retaliation for that, but the part of her that observed with intelligence felt a sense of satisfaction at the fouling of their fine clothes. Lyle would undoubtedly burn those pants when he changed out of them.

He frowned ominously, but Raines spoke before he could strike her.

"Will she remain docile when she's cleaned up and moved to more comfortable surroundings?" He wheezed skeptically. "After all, we can hardly allow the child to stay here."

'The child?'

She didn�t know, or care, how long it had been since we�d held the infant, but that other part of her fastened onto the words like a tick to a dog. Her subservient position didn�t change in the least, but the observer in her moved just a little closer to the forefront of their mind.

"If she doesn't," Lyle informed the old man cheerfully, "then I will certainly bring her back for a refresher course." His smile broadened at the shudder that wracked the woman's form.

"Then have her cleaned up and moved to the quarters we've prepared on SL-5." Raines ordered indifferently. "And make sure that leg is properly tended to. She'll have gangrene next if you aren't careful! We need her alive to tend the brat."

"It still hasn�t adjusted?" Lyle questioned.

"Never saw such a thing before in my life." Raines grumbled. "Brat should have forgotten her mother by now; she�s just an infant, after all! Instead she�s refusing to eat, refusing to be comforted. The doctor warned me that she�ll die if something doesn�t turn around for her soon."

"We�ve gone through too much to obtain it to risk loosing it now." Lyle agreed grimly. "Perhaps it will be better for her to raise the child anyway." He added thoughtfully.

"Now that she's been properly trained she can teach the child how to be obedient. You will teach her for us, won't you, Eve?" He asked pointedly.

Again, the woman nodded her head vigorously, her emotionless face still hidden by the veil of her hair. Deep inside of her the other part of her consciousness nurtured a tiny flame of hope, a flame that she had believed completely extinguished until now. Perhaps she would stick around a little longer after all. She could always change her mind later, if her daughter was once again removed from her care.

Life became almost tolerable after that. During the day I had Deirdre, and I was in control. Lyle hardly ever visited our room then; he hated Deirdre with a passion, even though he knew better than to harm her. The Centre had too much riding on their one specimen of second generation Pretender. At least they hoped she was Pretender like her father.

Deirdre had grown during the gray time of pain. Even though Lyle and Raines said she wasn�t eating, that she was failing to thrive, my mother�s eye could see the changes in her. The brown curls were longer, waving softly at the nape of her neck. Her blue eyes were clearer, and could focus on me from across the room. Her smile was still toothless, but she was rolling over easily, and pushing herself up on her tiny arms. She was still very small, though, and hadn�t gained any of the weight I would have expected. But that began to change now that she was mine during the day.

The doctor who oversaw her care and health ordered me to start her on baby food; fruits and vegetables and cereal. She was drinking a soy formula, which was good as my own milk had dried up at some point. He told me to feed her as much as she would take, told me to give her lots of physical attention, and warned me that he�d be monitoring me closely. He obviously didn�t know I was her mother. Or maybe he thought I�d had some sort of breakdown and couldn�t be trusted with my own child, who knows?

He soon changed his tune, though, as Deirdre began to thrive as much as anyone could hope for. She greeted me every morning with a happy smile, and filled my days with the happy sounds of her coos and giggles. I had no problem giving her all of the cuddling that the doctor had demanded. In fact, it was sometimes hard for me to lay her down when she slept. She was my only joy, my only reason for living.

At 6pm things would change radically. After her evening bath and bottle, when I�d rocked her to sleep, a nurse would arrive with a baby carriage to bear her away. As the door shut behind her the change would begin in me.

I would retreat as she crept forth, but not too far. We�d reached an understanding during the in-between times, when there was no Lyle or Deirdre to claim one or the other of us. She wasn�t as sullen and resentful of me as she�d been at first, and I had decided that there would be no forgetting this time. I still hated the fact that she was a part of me, that I was so terribly damaged, but she was a part of me and I had finally realized that I needed her.

I knew that if I survived this we�d eventually have to merge if I was going to have any hope of a balanced life. She had my courage and strength, I had her intelligence and love. We needed each other to be whole. In preparation for the time that we would be one, and her memories would be fully mine, I stayed as close to her as I could, even during the worst times.

So, after Deirdre was removed for the night, the other part of me came out and prepared for him. She never used his name, even in the privacy of our mind, even though her entire existence revolved around him. She was the one who showered and styled our hair, applied makeup the way he liked, donned the sheer, silky nightgowns he�d purchased for us. She made sure we were ready and kneeling by the easy chair that he�d had brought in for himself. She was the one who kept us there, all night if necessary, because she knew he�d show up eventually.

And she was right. He always showed up eventually. Sometimes it was almost immediately after Deirdre was taken away, and heaven help us if we weren�t waiting by the chair, not matter how little time he�d left us! I often felt he arrived early on those occasions simply so that he would have an excuse for his rage. Sometimes he didn�t come until after midnight. Once he came mere minutes before Deirdre was supposed to arrive.

And the visits weren�t always a prelude to rape. Sometimes he would have a nice dinner delivered to the room, talk over the events of the day, and generally pretend that we were a loving couple. I was very grateful for my other self during those times. I could see that it would have been easy for a woman as broken down as I was supposed to be to fall for his smooth charm and false gentleness. She would have ended up completely enslaved, praying for a kind word from him, devastated by his anger, existing only to serve him.

Even though my alternate did exist only to serve him, it was only out of survival, there was no real desire to please him, only to avoid the pain he doled out so willingly. She didn�t have the intelligence or ability to care the way he wanted us to. I could care the way he wanted, but I was removed from his brainwashing techniques by her. Insanity can be a blessing.

Other times he would come, and for whatever reason, simply beat us and leave. Once again my skin was a mottled mass of bruises, welts, and abrasions in various stages of healing. He was careful, for the most part, not to mar my face. Since my daytime attire consisted only of black turtleneck shirts and blue overalls the marks were well concealed and none of my infrequent visitors knew anything about the damage being done to me.

I actually preferred the latter visits to the other two. Both his strange fantasy of love and his brutal rapes left me feeling like I�d spent a week in a cesspool. A simple beating was nothing in comparison to the havoc his other attentions wreaked on my soul. The other, obviously, didn�t feel the same.

She didn�t care what Lyle did to us, as long as it didn�t involve pain. If he�d told us to parade naked through the Centre she�d have done it without a qualm. She had no dignity, no pride. All that mattered to her was our well being physically. I wouldn�t have survived that period without her.

Life had settled into a routine. Deirdre prospered, Lyle was as happy as Lyle could be, and I endured. Of course, it couldn�t last.

"What do you have for me, Jarod?" Curt ignored the busy hum of noise that surrounded him and focused on the grinning man in front of him.

"I have them!" Jarod answered obliquely. "I don�t know how you guys got this stuff, I�ve been looking for it for years, but I�ve cracked the encryption code, with ****�s help."

"Slow down, Jarod, and explain what the hell you�re talking about." Curt burst into his excited babble.

"I have the names! The Triumvirate, the board members of the Centre, even a list of names that I�m pretty sure are their government contacts." Triumphantly Jarod shoved a sheaf of papers into Curt�s hands. "Now let�s take those bastards out!"

"Not so fast." Curt cautioned, skimming over the names Jarod had just given him. "We�ve got to plan this carefully."

"Damn it, Curt!" Jarod flared impatiently. "It�s been months! How long do you think Anne can hold out?"

"Think, Jarod!" Curt urged seriously. "If we mount an open attack on the Centre or anyone connected to it, how long do you think she�ll live? What�s the first thing they�ll do if they feel threatened?"

Jarod limped to the door and slammed his way into the hall. There he limped from one end to the other, ignoring the pain in his still fragile leg, fighting with his urgent need to rescue the woman he loved. After long moments of internal struggle he grudgingly accepted that Curt was right, and sighed, head hanging in an unaccustomed posture of defeat and exhaustion. He sensed that Anne�s time was growing dangerously short, but he had to admit that her rescue couldn�t be rushed. It had to be planned meticulously, or it would end in disaster for all of them.

"I know it�s hard to be patient, Jarod." Curt said quietly from behind him. Jarod turned to face the man he now considered a friend, his face drawn with care.

"I�m worried." He said quietly, and unnecessarily. "I get this feeling that Anne�s in grave danger. We have to move as fast as possible."

"You have my word." Curt assured him. Jarod studied his face, judging his sincerity and how seriously he took Anne�s safety. "We�ll do everything we can to make sure she�s safe, Jarod, I swear. But that means careful planning and perfect timing."

"I know." Jarod accepted reluctantly. "What�s your preliminary timeline?"

"A week to check out the names and another to line up our ducks. Then we�ll start taking down this hydra one head at a time. We�ll do everything we can to make them believe it�s just random chance as long as possible. If I believe that they�re on to us, I�ll order an immediate strike at the Centre itself to try and extricate Anne."

"What can I do to hurry matters?" Jarod asked, unwilling to sit back and leave everything in Curt�s hands.

"You can work on these files." Curt answered promptly, holding out several CD cases. "Our inside man just got them to us."

Jarod took them with a resigned sigh, wanting nothing more than to head for Delaware immediately, but accepting reality.

�Hold on, Annie! � He thought painfully. �We�re almost ready to come get you; just hold on for a few more weeks.

Annie, my beautiful love, tell me you�re happy, tell me you love me too."

"No! No, I can�t! Love is dangerous; it hurts you."

"No, my poor confused angel, it�s the lack of love that hurts us." He countered softly. "I know things are hard right now, that everything seems hopeless, but I�m coming for you soon. Just hold on a little longer."

"You can�t come, that�s what Lyle wants, it�s what he�s waiting for." She gasped with dismay. "Do you understand me? Stay away, Jarod!"

"As if I could." Jarod chuckled indulgently. "Don�t you know that you are the light of my life? I can�t go back to living in the darkness now that you�ve shown me what I was missing."

"Jarod, I�m not that Anne anymore." She confessed brokenly. "Lyle has---he�s changed me. Please just forget me! It would be better for everyone."

"I can�t do that, darling, I love you too much---I need you too much." He assured her seriously. "Lyle can�t do anything to you that would change that. I promise, I won�t let him hurt you anymore. Just wait for me a little longer. I�ll be with you soon."

"Jarod, don�t! I can�t stand for anyone else to get hurt because of me, especially not you! Please, don�t come here, please!"

But he was gone and couldn�t hear her. She cried, desolate tears slipping silently down a porcelain face. Couldn�t he understand the danger? Why wouldn�t he listen to her?

I woke up, my face wet with tears and my entire body stiff and cramped. Lyle had ordered us to remain in his favorite position of subservience all night; kneeling, and forehead to the floor. One reason he loved the position is that it exposed my back to his blows. He�d used the leather strap last night.

Why? Who knows? I had come to believe that he simply couldn�t be satisfied unless he caused pain on a regular basis.

It took me several minutes simply to stand. Not only were my legs completely numb, but the pain of my abused back and ribs made every movement an agony. The only bright point was that he had left after venting his spleen on me. He never visited me during the day so I was safe, for the moment.

I finally pushed myself up on wobbly legs and staggered into the bedroom to get ready for Deirdre. A quick shower loosened me up to the point that I could move without groaning, and my alter managed to dampen what was left of the pain enough for me to ignore it. I tried hard not to allow Deirdre to have even an inkling of what I went through while she was gone. Children are amazingly sensitive, and I didn�t want her distressed in any way. She had already had enough trauma for one lifetime.

� I was dressed and waiting in the wooden rocker that Lyle had supplied me with when I heard an angry female voice outside in the hall. It wasn�t the nurse, although it was a strangely familiar voice. A deep, male voice, my guard, answered her, only to be cut off sharply. I couldn't hear words through the thick metal door, but whatever she said worked. The door opened and a tall, familiar woman strode in.

The other surged up in an instant, drawn by my racing heart and indrawn breath, I think, but I ordered her down.

�Miss Parker won't hurt us.� I assured her. She might yell, but she won't hurt us.�

My alternate wasn't convinced, but she subsided grudgingly.

"How long has he had you?" Parker demanded, her voice sharp and accusing.

At least, it would have sounded accusing to anyone listening. I saw the remorse and concern in her eyes. My heart sank as I realized that I would have to throw her concern back in her face, but the other reminded me that even if I could walk out the door with Parker right now, Lyle would still have my daughter. I didn�t dare risk doing anything to make him angry.

I shrugged casually, keeping my face as blank as a new page. Parker knew I couldn�t speak, but she still glared at my silence.

"Has he hurt you?" She asked, her voice slightly less harsh and the sympathy in her eyes growing. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

I shook my head slowly and kept my face expressionless. When Lyle appeared in the doorway behind his sister I was glad clear down to my toenails that paranoia had kept me from answering honestly.

"Trying to subvert my subject, Sis?" He asked with bland derision. "You�ll find that she�s completely loyal to me, and the Centre, now."

"Lyle." I had to admire the way she packed the name with disgust and derision. "How long?"

"Long enough to train her properly this time." Lyle cocked a challenging brow at his sister, confident that this time he'd won their battle of wills.

"You must have been in seventh heaven with the Triumvirate�s blessing to torture someone." Parker goaded icily. "Too bad she�s so totally Caucasian, though. Must have been a big letdown that Jarod didn�t pick a Asian woman, huh?"

"My little Eve has other redeeming features." Lyle threw back casually.

As he had with Raines, he snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot by his side. I leapt out of the rocker and was prostrate by his side before Parker could come up with a snappy retort. The other was in control now, and I was glad. It was bad enough that Parker had to see our total degredation, it would have been far worse if Ihad actually been the one complying with his commands like a well trained dog.

"Tell my sister, Eve. Tell her how happy you are here." Lyle demanded of me. His eyes were fixed on his sister's face and his face bore and unpleasant sneer.

"I am very happy here." I signed obediently. "Mr. Lyle has given me everything I could want or need."

The other couldn't have communicated that clearly, so I was the one in control at the moment. I very carefully kept from looking Parker in the eye, and flopped back down as soon as I�d given the answer Lyle had beaten into us long ago.

"And me?" Lyle prompted with malicious glee.

My heart sank as I began the response he expected. Nausea roiled in my stomach as my very being rebelled at the words I had to sign. I controlled the nausea, but Parker's gaze on my face sharpened. Some a hint of my discomfort must have shown.

"I love you, Mr. Lyle." I signed obediently.

There was no way I could do the next part, so the other took control again and forced us to lean against Lyle�s leg and gaze up at him. There was supposed to be adoration on our face, but neither of us could manage that.

"She's free to go any time she wants." Lyle lied easily, patting my head like a faithful dog. Nausea struck again, more sharply. "The guard is to keep people away from her, not to keep her in."

"Then you won't mind if she leaves with me?" Parker challenged him, a hint of desperation in her voice.

I knew that she suspected there was no way I would take her up on that, but she very much wanted to remove me from her brother�s hands. I don�t know if that was because she couldn�t stand her brother, or if it was because she cared for Jarod.

"Not at all, if she wants to. Do you want to leave with my sister, Eve?" He directed the question at me, his expression indulgent, but the threat clear in his eyes.

My blood turned to ice and I could barely breathe. I wanted so much to say yes, but I knew better. Lyle would never let me through that door a free woman. For all I knew he'd kill Parker if I even hinted that I might agree. And he still had my daughter. I shook my head violently, scooting slightly behind Lyle�s leg, as if I was afraid she'd grab me and make a run for it. My self-disgust reached new heights, but the move pleased Lyle and ultimately, that was all that mattered.

"Anne, don't be an idiot." She hissed demandingly. "Come with me, now!"

Again I shook my head, my hair flying around my bowed head. I trembled visibly, terribly afraid that Lyle was going to punish me even though I'd done everything I was supposed to. Lyle misinterpreted my trembling suit his own purposes.

"Don't worry, Eve." He stressed the name he and Raines had given me for Parker's benefit. "I won't let her take you anywhere." He slid placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing the fresh bruises and welts on my back painfully. I bit my lip and knelt quietly, my hair veiling my face.

"Why, Lyle? Why did you do this to her?" Parker demanded. I could hear the anguish underneath her rage.

"The Centre wanted her willing and I----I have my own plans for her." His hand tightened, bringing tears of pain to my eyes, but kept completely still. I felt like a butterfly caught in a hurricane. I could only hope that if I was very, very quiet it would pass over me without hurting me.

"I see it's too late for her." She conceded grudgingly. "But I want Sydney to examine her."

"Why?" Lyle asked with the finest edge of irritation. "She's happy, she's productive, and, most importantly, she's mine." He informed her.

"Productive, how?" Parker pounced on the word.

"She's raising our new Pretender." He parried her attack smoothly.

"Jarod�s?" Parker asked, a tiny catch in her voice.

"Who else�s?" Lyle�s nostrils flared slightly with distaste at admitting that. "But there will be more. Her genetic structure was carefully designed to produce extraordinary specimens. She�ll be carrying another child soon."

Parker gasped, and looked at ill as I felt.

"You?" She questioned faintly. "You�d really�" Her voice trailed off at his triumphant expression.

"I can�t believe Daddy and the Triumvirate approved that." She finally managed.

"Grow up, Sis." He advised coldly. "Dad and the Triumvirate are only concerned with money. Our genes are very close to Jarod�s, so why not me? In fact, you might want to take some care to be more productive yourself, or you might just join Anne down here."

"You are a sick, sick man!" She spat furiously, unconsciously echoing words that Sydney had already used to Lyle�s face. "There�s no way you�re related to me!"

With that she spun on one heel and strode furiously out of my room. Lyle laughed unpleasantly, recognizing the fear under her anger.

"You did very well, Anne." He purred contentedly to me. "Now, go into the other room and wait for me to return. I have a surprise for you."

I was exhausted. Bone tired in a way that only too many days of utter despair could make you. I could barely drag myself into the inner room where I curled into a ball of misery in my corner.

I don�t know how long it was before Lyle returned. Time had become meaningless to me an eon ago. The only think I cared about was that Deirdre hadn�t been brought to my room. I was concerned about her, but it was in a distant, detached way. I didn�t have the energy or even the concentration to really worry.

I lapsed into a kind of waking doze. I heard when the outer door finally opened, and the voices of several men, but I had no curiosity about my visitor. I didn�t want to know who was coming to torment me next. I didn�t even look up when the door opened and the heavy, uneven steps of my guest sounded.

"Your information was right, Sydney." The Miss Parker who made this report was a pale, subdued shadow of herself. "He�s got her and he�s had her long enough to break her completely."

She sighed, an oddly forlorn sound coming from her.

"The evil just keeps growing, Syd." She whispered sadly. "I don�t know what to do anymore?"

"We end it." Sydney answered with uncharacteristic firmness. "And we start by contacting Jarod."

"I always thought you had a personal number for him." She smiled tiredly. "I�m glad you waited until now to prove me right."

The wouldn�t have spoken so openly if they had been at the Centre, but Parker was at Sydney�s personal apartment in Blue Cove. In the years that they�d known each other, this was the first time she�d ever been there. It was a restful place, with lots of wood paneling, maroon upholstery, and plants occupying nearly every available surface.

"You never really wanted to catch him." Sydney informed her with one raised brow conveying his subdued amusement. "So it would have been counterproductive to have told you."

"You�re as devious as they are." Parker accused mildly. "Thank God you�re on the side of the angels."

Sydney didn�t answer, he just picked up his cell phone and punched in a number that he�d had memorized for years. When the man on the other end answered Sydney�s voice was calm and even, but Parker could see the sadness lurking in his eyes.

"Hello, Jarod." He said calmly. "How have you been?"

"Busy." Jarod answered briefly. "What�s so important that you�d use the number I left you after all this time?"

Curt looked up from the papers he was studying, eyes sharp with interest. He guessed, from the carefully suppressed anticipation and anxiety in Jarod�s voice that he was speaking to someone from the Centre.

"I think you know, Jarod." Sydney responded gravely. "Miss Parker discovered that Lyle has Anne. He�s had her for a while."

"I know" No matter how hard Jarod tried to keep his voice even, it broke with emotion.

"Why didn�t you call me?" Sydney asked gently, a trace of hurt in his voice. "Didn�t you know I would help?"

"I was hospitalized for quite a while, Sydney." Jarod told him carefully. "I�ve only been up and about for a short period of time. And I don�t want to put you in any danger if I can avoid it."

"Are you saying you don�t want us to do anything?" Sydney questioned.

"Not unless you�re sure it won�t get you or Anne hurt. I don�t think you can promise that. Besides, he doesn�t just have Anne, he has our daughter too. If I know Anne, she won�t even think of leaving without Deirdre."

"Let me speak to him." Parker demanded, her blue eyes troubled. Jarod overheard and sighed; suspecting that he wasn�t going to like what she had to say.

"Go ahead and put her on." He told Sydney.

"Jarod," Her voice cracked, surprising both her and Jarod. She cleared her throat nervously and started again. "I don�t know how to say this, so I�ll just be blunt. Lyle�s done a number on her."

"Did you imagine he wouldn�t?" Jarod jibed, trying to mask his pain with sarcasm.

"No, but you don�t understand what I�m saying. He hasn�t just brainwashed her, he�s---" Parker�s throat closed up completely. She hadn�t even shared this with Sydney. Even though she knew she wasn�t accountable for Lyle�s depravity, she found it frighteningly hard to actually say the words out loud. As if simply being related to Lyle made her responsible for his sins.

"Spit it out, Parker." Jarod heard himself demand in a cold hard voice. He was shrinking inside, though, knowing this would hurt. Parker wouldn�t have gone against a lifetime of indoctrination to speak to him if it weren�t something big.

"He�s decided she�s going to bear him a child." She spat the words out like a machine gun on automatic. They were as vile to say as they had been to hear. "He�s, he�s been---"

"Don�t!" Jarod cut her off, agony in his voice. "Don�t say it! I don�t want to hear this."

"I just wanted you to know what you�re up against." She said with astonishing gentleness. "She�s very damaged right now, I think. I don�t know what scheme you have up your sleeve this time, but you should hurry. And, Jarod?"

She paused, waiting for the affirmative grunt that was all he could manage at the moment.

"If I can help you don�t hesitate to ask. I simply can�t be a party to this anymore. Whatever you need from me, you�ve got it."

"Thanks, Parker." He managed in a gruff voice, thick with unshed tears. "I knew you�d come around one day. I�ll take you up on that offer once I get everything set up properly. Thank you."

He disconnected the phone before she could say anything else, and limped for the door before Curt could say a word. Curt, knowing that Jarod had received bad news, let him go. Some things a man needed time and space to deal with.

He paused before opening the door and, carefully avoiding looking at Curt, said;

"Start it now----tonight. There�s no more time."

Curt watched the door swing gently shut and picked up the phone by his hand.

"It�s time." He said to the person who picked up on the other end. "Initiate project Clean Sweep tonight."

He paused, listening to what was obviously a complaint from the other end.

"Then make yourself ready." He answered harshly. "It starts tonight. Time�s up."

He hung up the phone firmly, his eyes still fixed on the door that Jarod had walked through. Some times you just had to act if you were going to keep a shred of self-respect and this was one of them.

"Annie, girl? Is that you?" My eyes opened in spite of myself at those familiar tones. The man standing uncertainly by the door had more lines on his face, and his hair was now completely white, but I recognized him right away.

My first response was a blinding joy; the one following it immediately was crushing shame. We rose to the crouch that the other preferred, but instead of greeting the man, we finger combed our hair to hide our face. My alternate knew how to handle this situation; hide.

"Annie?" He squatted down in front of me, but he carefully refrained from touching me. His voice was very gentle and soft, the kind you used with a frightened child or animal. "Sweetie, it�s me, Sam. Don�t you recognize me?"

�No! No! Go away!� I thought despairingly. �I don�t want you to see me like this.�

"Oh, Anne." He breathed painfully, one hand reaching out to stroke the hair back from our face.

She struck the hand away and began to rock, fingers twining and lips moving in the rhyme she�d learned from Jarod. My heart was breaking at the pain on Sam�s face, and I wanted to reassure him, but I had to protect myself. I simply couldn�t bear for him to see me; not after everything Lyle had done.

"As you can see, Anne is not only alive, but very much in our possession." A familiar raspy voice declared from the open door. "She�s relatively undamaged, and you can ensure that she remains that way by cooperating with us."

"Damn you, you monsters!" Sam ground out, rising to face Raines and Lyle. "What the hell have you done to her?"

"What we�ve done to her is nothing compared to what we will do to her if you don�t give us the answers we want." Raines threatened coldly. "Where is your wife? What has she done with the boys?"

"I don�t know!" Sam snapped, his back rigid with barely contained rage.

"Fine. Lyle? This is your forte. What do you suggest?"

We rocked a little faster, hunching in on ourselves a little more. Sam didn�t miss our distress.

"I swear, I don�t know!" He protested, moving to stand protectively in front of me. "Don�t do this, I really don�t know where Sally is!"

"Then give us an idea where she might hide." Raines demanded.

"You�ve already checked out all of our friends and relatives. There isn�t anyplace else. It�s not like I had a hunting cabin in Colorado or anything!"

"That�s too bad." Raines snarled in frustration. "Because your precious Annie is going to pay the price for your ignorance."

"Don�t do this." Sam pleaded, utter sincerity radiating from him like heat from a fire. "Don�t hurt her for nothing. Look at her; you�ve already stripped her of her very humanity, leave her be.Please!" He added, that final plea sounding like it had been torn from his throat by some outside force.

"I�m afraid we can�t do that." Lyle, as always, managed to make it sound like it wasn�t his delight to torture someone. "The Triumvirate is quite impatient to get their hands on the young heirs to the Pretender throne. I have to show them that we�re taking this seriously."

I watched them avidly from behind my veil of hair. Sam caught my eye, and I could feel his pain. I�d tried to avoid that, I had enough pain of my own to hold, but he�d intercepted my wary gaze anyway. I could almost here him begging my forgiveness---didn�t he understand that it was all my fault? That none of this would have happened if I�d died when lightning hit the transformer outside my window nearly two years ago?

"Take him back to his cell. He can think about our request tonight, and what his intransigence is costing Eve." Lyle managed to sound like he was proposing a pleasant afternoon outing, rather than the vile threats that were really spilling from his lips. It took both of the Sweepers who�d accompanied Lyle and Raines to pull Sam off of Lyle.

"She�ll pay for that too, old man!" Lyle hissed, wiping a thread of blood off of his lip.

I heard Raines chuckle as he followed the Sweepers from the room. I heard Sam cursing as he was dragged forcibly away. I heard Lyle shut the inner door, and I knew no more. This time I allowed myself to fade into total oblivion, unable to face another session; another moment in Lyle�s company.

He was gone when I regained awareness, and I just lay there, gasping from the pain of his visit and taking stock of my injuries. He�d really gone all out this time. My face was tender. One eye was swelling, it hurt to move my jaw, and the lips were cracked and swollen. Both cheeks were puffing up with angry red welts.

My arms and legs about as bruised as was usual after a visit, but my wrists and ankles were chafed and raw. He�d used the manacles. Worst of all, my torso was crisscrossed with thin, sharp welts. He�d used a whip. I�d be pretty colorful the next day, I knew, but it wasn�t much worse than what he�d done before. The worst pain was a persistent ache in my ribs, that made me move with greater care than usual.

The truly unusual thing was that I couldn�t feel the other. I had a gut feeling that she wasn�t gone, but this was the first time since she�d resurfaced in my life that I didn�t feel her at least in the background. I wondered what Lyle had done to drive even her into hiding as I took us into the adjoining bathroom to clean up.

She wouldn't have bothered, but I had to wash the feeling of his hands off of me. I felt dirtier and dirtier with each passing day, and I had wondered for some time now how I would ever be able to look Jarod in the eye again. It didn't matter that I had no choice, I felt like I had somehow betrayed him. More and more I wondered just what would be left of me when this was all over.

`If it ever is.' My little inner voice startled me with that.

I hadn't heard from her pretty much since Lyle had captured us. I reflected that it was certainly getting crowded in my mind. I might have been tempted to worry, but it seemed rather pointless at this junction to even care. My life was already so screwed up that two or three personalities weren�t worth the bother.

`You need to quit moping about Jarod feeling hurt and start worrying about how vicious Lyle's been getting.' She prodded insistently. `He's going to kill you one of these days.'

Well, he did seem to have a bad track record with women, I admitted to myself as I dressed and prepared to care for Deirdre.

`But, he says he wants a child.' I argued with myself. `Dead women do not have children.' I added firmly.

�What he wants and what he�s going to get are going to be two entirely different things if you don�t do something.� She argued. �Look at what he�s just done. You did everything you were supposed to, played your part like a professional actress, and your reward was more bruises. Pretty soon now he�s going to end up causing internal bleeding or something.�

�So?� I questioned indifferently. �Let him. I don�t think I can take much more of this anyway.�

�What about Deirdre?� She asked, hitting below the belt as far as I was concerned.

But she was right. I could no more leave Deirdre willingly than I could walk out of this room.

�Then tell him.� She ordered me.�You know he�d back off if you told him.�

�No!� My entire being rebelled. �We aren�t even sure yet!�

�Yes we are. You just don�t want to believe it.�

�No. It isn�t true. It�s just stress. I---I can�t��

Tears began to slip down my cheeks as I curled into a fetal position in "my" corner of the bedroom. The other refused to sleep in the bed and I was in agreement with her on that one. On the few nights that Lyle came and went early we�d curl up to sleep in this corner. It almost felt like a refuge, even though there was nothing about it that offered protection. It was simply our own space; a space that Lyle hadn�t managed to taint yet.

I don�t know how long I spent there, mourning while trying not to even think. I may have even dozed off finally. Certainly the sound of the outer door opening again shocked me clear through. Was it the nurse with Deirdre? Sam again? Or, unpleasant thought, Lyle returning again? Two midmorning visits in as many days would simply be too much.

Reluctantly, I uncurled from my little world and made my way to the connecting door to see who it was. I didn�t even try to erase the ravages of my tears; I knew that if it was Lyle he would be pleased by them and if it wasn�t him, I didn�t care. Even with the other to bolster me, I found it incredibly difficult to open the connecting door and face what was on the other side.

"How is she, Angelo?" Miss Parker asked the childlike man. She knew he�d been spying on Anne, he spied on just about everything that happened at the Centre.

"Anne not good." Angelo answered seriously. "Needs help."

"What do you mean?" Parker was alarmed and it showed. She remembered how pale the woman had been when she saw her, the dark circles under her eyes and hollows under her cheekbones, but hadn�t seemed to be injured in any way.

"Did Lyle hurt her? Does she need a doctor?" Sydney questioned with quiet urgency.

"Anne�s soul is dark. Needs light soon." Angelo clarified. "No hope, no joy---poor Anne."

"She�s giving up." Parker concluded.

"It�s a testament to her strength that she�s held on this long." Sydney stated, his eyes troubled. "From what I can tell, Lyle has been given total control of her, and we know Lyle�s track record with women."

"I�m going to see Daddy." Parker decided grimly. "Even if he did give Lyle permission to---to use her to conceive a child, the Centre�s got a vested interest in keeping Anne reasonably healthy. Daddy can�t possibly know what Lyle�s really doing with her."

"It�s certainly worth a try." Sydney agreed, keeping his doubts carefully hidden. "Broots and I will do some digging into where the child is. Since she wasn�t with her mother it�s reasonable to assume that their time together is limited at best. Perhaps if we could get her daughter into her hands more, her will to live will improve."

"Broots, you look like you swallowed a bug." Parker snapped irritably. "What�s bothering you?"

"Your father isn�t here, Miss Parker." Broots said miserably.

"Where is he?" She demanded.

"He was arrested last night." Broots admitted, hunching slightly as if he was afraid she was going to strike him.

"Arrested? For what?" Parker wasn�t angry, she was in shock.

"Treason." Broots squeaked out.

"Treason? Treason?" She repeated dazedly. "How could they think Daddy is guilty of treason?"

"I don�t know." He told her. "But that isn�t all. You know Mr. Mutumbo was killed a while ago, right?"

"Of course I do!"

"Well, the rumor in the data entry pool is that another member of the Triumvirate disappeared earlier this week. And the IRS is auditing the books next week."

"Jarod!" Parker hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Maybe, but do you really think he�d stir up the hornet�s nest when we have Anne?" Sydney questioned doubtfully.

"There�s no way this is coincidence." Parker rebutted confidently. "This is an attack, and Lyle�s going to figure it out soon, if he hasn�t already."

"Which puts Anne in more danger than she�s been to date." Sydney pointed out, worry showing in his eyes. As if his comment was a cue, his cell phone rang.

"Yes?" He asked as soon as he flipped it open.

"Is there any chance you can get Anne and Deirdre to safe place and hide them for a few days?" Jarod asked bluntly.

"I don�t know. Lyle has her pretty heavily guarded, and we don�t even know where Deirdre is." Sydney answered honestly.

"Try, Syd, for me. It�s really important."

"Then it is you behind the recent disappearances of top level Centre staff."

"Not exactly, but I�m helping the people behind it. Things are going to heat up pretty soon, and I�d feel much better if Anne and Deirdre were out of the line of fire when it does."

"We�ll do our best, Jarod." Sydney promised, keeping his doubts about their effectiveness to himself. "I�ll call you if anything comes up."

"Do that. Thank you, Sydney. You get Anne and Deirdre to safety, and I�ll owe you big time."

"You just be careful. Mr. Lyle isn�t stupid, and if you corner him he�ll be dangerous." Sydney cautioned, worry creeping into his expression.

"You too, Syd." Jarod replied, his voice growing slightly husky. "I don�t want any of you getting hurt."

The phone disconnected from Jarod�s end, and Sydney looked up at his coworkers.

"He wants us to try and rescue Anne and the baby and hide them until things calm down." He told them with far more calm than he was really feeling.

"He�s insane." Parker said flatly, beginning to pace in her agitation. "You�re precious genius has finally jumped right off the deep end, Sydney. Have you got any idea of the level of protection Lyle has on Anne?"

"You�re the one who got in to see her." Sydney countered mildly.

"And that was only because I�m a Parker. Even with that, Lyle was down there in seconds." She retorted, her agitation growing. "She�s more closely guarded than the crown jewels."

"What about the child?" Sydney questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"How hard would it be to get her and stash her someplace?" Sydney wanted to know.

"I don�t know." Parker admitted cautiously. "I�m not even sure where she is."

"Angelo?" Sydney turned to the quiet man. "Do you know where Deirdre is?"

"Yes." He answered simply.

"Will you take Broots to her and help him get her to safety?" Sydney asked next.

"Yes." Angelo answered again.

"Broots?" Sydney looked at the smaller man, his eyes asking if the computer technician was in or out.

"I�ll get her someplace safe." He assured Sydney with a grim determination that was foreign to his normal personality. "I won�t let Lyle hurt her."

"Good man." Sydney approved warmly. "Parker and I will see to Anne."

Broots nodded once and left with Angelo. Parker turned to Sydney as soon as the door had closed behind them.

"And just how the hell do you propose we do that?" She hissed worriedly.

"I�m still a physician." He reminded her. "And you did tell Lyle you wanted me to examine her, didn�t you? We�ll just stop by my office to collect my bag and head down there. Once we�re in her room we can figure out our next move."

"You�re going to get us killed." She warned, but she followed him from the laboratory and into the hall.

"Hello, my dear." Lyle said with a charming smile that didn�t reach his cold blue eyes. "I�m glad to see you looking so well."

His eyes devoured my ravaged appearance with visible appreciation. As I�d surmised, he enjoyed the fact that I�d been crying.

�Tell him!� The voice in my head urged insistently. �Now, before it�s too late.�

�No!� I returned stubbornly. �We don�t know anything.�

"I want you to put this on." Lyle told me abruptly, holding out a backless hospital gown. "We�re going to contact your beloved."

His smile was cold and full of malice as I accepted the cloth and donned it with suddenly nerveless fingers. His all too visible rage and bitterness warned me that something was very, very wrong. As usual, I knew he was going to make me pay for whatever was wrong in his world.

I didn�t register the carefully concealed sympathy on the face of the same Sweeper who�d smuggled my daughter to me during the early days of this nightmare. I failed to notice the shocked looks of the Centre staff we passed in the hallways and the air of anxiety that hung over all of them. I barely noticed the quiet return of my other self from wherever she�d gone. I was wrapped into a fog of dread

I surfaced slightly when Sydney and Parker intercepted us at the elevators. I actually noticed the shock and distaste on Parker�s face as the registered the new and old marks on my exposed flesh.

"I thought you�d decided she was going to bear your children, Lyle." She growled disgustedly. "But she won�t be much use to you in a morgue."

"What are you on about now?" Lyle snapped back. Parker gestured towards my abused flesh, her gaze acidic.

"Look at her! She�s been beaten half to death, and it�s obviously not the first time. Just what do you think you�ll accomplish if you kill her?"

"You�re overreacting, as usual." Lyle drawled back irritably. "I have to remind her of her position periodically, and right now I�m about to save our asses here, so keep your righteous attitude to yourself, okay?"

"I said I wanted Sydney to examine her, and I meant it." She countered grimly. "That goes double now that I�ve seen this."

"Fine. After she helps me convince Jarod to give up his doomed attack and surrender himself, you can have the psychiatrist examine her. I think he�ll find her conversational abilities a bit lacking, though." Lyle snapped.

"This I�ve got to see." Parker needled maliciously. "We�ll just follow along, shall we?" She asked Sydney with saccharine sweetness.

Sydney rolled his eyes slightly, but followed along with us as Lyle propelled me into a room full of busy people. There were video cameras, a row of four computer terminals, lights, a backdrop, and two more guards with a visibly battered Sam. I refused to look at him after one quick glance to identify him. His eyes looked sick with self-recrimination.

"Have you contacted him yet?" Lyle demanded of the nearest technician.

"N-no, Mr. Lyle." Broots stammered nervously. "I've got several messages sent to several possible sites, but no responses yet."

Parker and Sydney exchanged concerned looks, but had no chance to say anything.

"Find him!" Lyle's temper was deteriorating more rapidly than I would have believed possible, and I wasn't the only person in the room who was frightened by it.

His pacing was beginning to take a martial stride and my nerves were strained past the breaking point, when the computer finally chimed for Broots' attention. His face was an odd mixture of hope and dread as he opened the mail. His eyes quickly scanned the message, then he began to type again rapidly.

"I think it's him." He said with a faintly breathless air. "I'm telling him Anne needs to speak to him now. If he answers, we'll know for sure."

"Eve." Lyle snarled dangerously. "Her name is Eve."

Lyle�s eyes glittered with a light that could only be madness while we waited for Broots to confirm the connection. Another few moments stretched by, extending those few heartbeats into an eternity, and the there was another noise from the computer.

"It's him." Broots confirmed still torn between pleasure and guilt. "We're establishing a real-time link now. All you have to do is turn on the camera."

One of the other people in the room made a move for the camera, but Lyle stopped them with an upraised hand.

"Are you ready to be of use here, Flemming?" Lye asked Sam with icy calm. Sam's eyes flew to me and back to Lyle.

"Or what?" He demanded, the wariness on his face revealing that he already knew the answer to the question.

"We�ve already established just what the consequences to your stubbornness is; and who will pay them."

"What do you want me to say?" Sam sighed, taking a long look at my pale face; seeing clearly the half healed bruises and livid scars covering so much of my flesh.

"Tell Jarod how well you've been treated here and invite him to end the little war he's started and to come and help rebuild the Centre." Lyle answered, his eyes narrowed with anger as he voiced his demand.

"He won't believe me." Sam answered warningly. "The boy isn't a fool."

"Just do what you�re told, Flemming. I�ll do the thinking."

Sam slowly went to stand in front of the camera. One person stood behind the camera and another carried an armful of large cue cards and went to crouch in front of the camera. Sam seemed to be repressing a sigh as the camera light came alive.

Lyle pointed at the cue cards and Sam began to speak.

"Jarod, this is Sam." He started unnecessarily. "I've been at the Centre since the day I was accidentally injured by the Sweepers who were defending themselves against my misguided attack."

I wondered how Lyle could even dream that Jarod would fall for that fantasy.

"They saved my life and I'm almost as good as new."

If Sam's voice got any drier they would have to declare a new desert, I thought irreverently. He was obeying the letter of Lyle's orders while ignoring the spirit of them. Lyle's lips were tightly pressed together, which alerted me that he wasn't happy, but didn't dare speak while the camera was running.

"All they want is for you to stop attacking the Centre, after all it's done a lot of good and is worth salvaging. If you would come here, they promise to make you a partner in policy while they rebuild from the economic damage you've caused."

Sam had obviously reached the end of his little speech, and Lyle could see the simmering rebellion in his eyes. He grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, an obvious warning.

"I know you'll do your best, son." Sam finally ended neutrally, looking just past the camera with a deliberately blank face.

The camera light died and Sam was bracketed by Sweepers again. Lyle went to stand by Broots, waiting for Jarod�s response to Sam�s message. I don�t know what Jarod said, but Lyle erupted seconds later.

"So that's how he wants to play it?" He grated, his face red and contorted with the force of his fury. He turned to one of the four idle Sweepers in the room, one that the other part of me recognized from the hazy, pain filled days of our first days back at the Centre. He wasn�t the kind man who�d smuggled my daughter to me, he was one who had willingly participated in the atrocities Lyle had used to "train" me.

"Fetch the post."

The blood drained from my face and the other took us into our familiar rocking crouch in an instant. We knew what was coming. I barely noticed Sam's instinctive movement towards me, or the guards holding him back, or Lyle's satisfied smirk. I was too busy twining my fingers together, and filling my mind with out mantra;

Over and over our lips formed the little rhyme, our entire mind focused on it and blocked out everything else. I didn't see the sick comprehension in Sam's eyes as the sweeper wheeled in a leather covered post that had what looked like two branches forking off upwards in either direction.

I didn�t see Parker�s movement towards her brother, or Sydney�s hand coming down on her arm to restrain her as the Sweeper dragged me to the pole. I didn't notice the worry on Broot�s face as my arms were securely fastened to the manacles on the ends of the two branches and the hospital gown torn open to expose my already battered back.

I was locked into my recital of the words of that simple nursery rhyme, until it swelled to fill my entire world. I didn�t care about, or need, the pity, sympathy and worry that filled the room, none of it would do me any good anyway. The preparations were finished, and Lyle picked up a custom made whip, with six or seven little tails that ended in small balls of leather. He gestured to the sickened cameraman to turn on the machine.

"Fine, Wonderboy." He told it spitefully. "If you�re too clever to be fooled, perhaps you can be convinced. Do you care about her or not?"

I jerked as the whip came down, the balls at the end tearing through the tender flesh. I took a perverse pleasure in the fact that I didn�t cry out, even though I couldn�t have if I�d tried. Two more blows and blood flowed freely down my back. Parker and Sam were being restrained only by the full force of the Sweeper team Lyle and backing him up, and Lyle called for a different whip.

Oh yes, he had quite an assortment. Lyle seemed to be fascinated by beatings of any kind. This one had only one tail; a thin strip of leather. It sliced cleanly through the skin of my back without effort. I shuddered continuously now and would have been screaming my head off if I had the vocal chords to do so.

I didn�t hear the ringing of the cell phone that halted him, I barely noticed that the next blow hadn�t fallen. I could dimly hear Parker cursing the Sweepers, and Sydney speaking to her in calm tones of reason.

"Good." I heard Lyle say, his voice oozing satisfaction. "I'll give you two and a half hours, no more. If you're late, well, maybe I should just leave her there until you get here."

I knew that the words were bad, but I couldn�t remember why. Not much penetrated the fog of pain surrounding us now. I actually clung to the hated post for support as I waited for the next development, as mindless as the post itself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I heard Parker hissing furiously. She had finally shaken off the hands of the Sweepers and confronted her brother. She was breathtakingly beautiful in her rage, even Lyle stopped to admire the passionate picture she made.

"What I am doing, Sis, is saving our butts. Someone has to stop Jarod before there�s nothing left."

"That would explain this little session." She admitted, her voice dripping with disgust. "What explains the others?" She gestured expressively towards my ravaged back.

"As I once pointed out to Sydney, I am a persuasive man. Persuasion isn't always a painless thing." Lyle answered complacently.

"Not if you�re involved it isn�t." I heard Sydney mutter in an undertone.

"Now," he went on decisively. "Jarod has already had our father arrested and put the IRS onto us. I don�t know if the other member of the Triumvirate has vanished like the one who disappeared earlier this week, but it�s only a matter of time. The only way we can be sure that Jarod has called off this attack is if we have him in our hands. I merely did what was necessary to achieve that. If you don't like it, you can take your friends and go home." He finished casually.

"And turn the Centre over to you by default? I don�t think so." Parker returned icily. "Besides, Sydney was going to take a look at your little project there. We�ll take her back to her room and then I�ll take up this discussion again with you in your office."

"Willie and Jack will make sure you don�t get lost on the way." Lyle countered smugly. "After that, I don�t care what you do. But she isn�t going to leave her room, so any half-baked rescue plans you�ve cooked up can just be abandoned now."

"No one can come up with a half-baked plan the way you can, Brother Dear." Parker purred viciously. "I wouldn�t dream of competing."

She gestured peremptorily at Sydney and Broots and they released me from the post. Then she gently took my arm and began to lead me out of the room, Willie and Jack falling into place behind Sydney and Broots.

�Jarod shouldn�t have agreed to come.� I thought dully as I shuffled along. � He has to know Lyle has something horrible planned. Why doesn�t he just finish off the Centre and get it over with?�

�Because Lyle will take you with him if he goes down.� My inner voice supplied reasonably.

�So?� I questioned with honest confusion. �His Anne is already gone, surely he understands that.�

"Out of my way!" Jarod glared at the black man standing firmly in the doorway.

He was two or three inches taller than the other man, but the fact that he leaned heavily on a cane negated any advantage that might have given him in this standoff.

"Jarod, I can't let you go haring out of here on a whim." Curtis said firmly, wincing as an expression of rage covered Jarod's face.

"Whim?!" He hissed, white lines bracketing his lips as he fought with his emotions. "You saw her. You saw her back. You saw was he was doing----what he would still be doing if I hadn't made that call----and you call it a whim?"

"Yes, I saw all of that. And you bought her another few hours. But what good will it do anything if you are in that psychopath's hands too?"

"It will give Annie some space, while Lyle turns his attention to me." Jarod answered with brutal honesty. "And maybe, just maybe, I'll have a chance to get my hands around his neck."

"You know that won't happen, Jarod." Curt said flatly. "And then what? What happens after Lyle has broken you, or killed you? And what happens when he decides to use her against you again, this time in front of your own eyes, and not a camera monitor?"

Jarod's free hand never ceased it's restless clenching and unclenching.

"I don't know." Jarod answered grimly. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I'm not staying here while he tortures her, Curt. Now, get out of my way!"

Curt move back reluctantly as Jarod advanced, even though Jarod would have been hard pressed to actually force him aside.

"Think, Jarod! You're throwing everything we've worked for away! We're so close! So close to closing down the Centre for good!" He pleaded. "And there's something else you should know�"

Jarod ignored him, limping painfully down the hallway towards the elevator at the far end. He stopped, though, when the elevator doors opened and out stepped Sally, with one of his sons in her arms, and the other held by an unknown member of the agency.

His face paled as his eyes drank in the sight of his two boys for the first time and conflicting needs warred within him. They were healthy and happy, two bottom teeth peeking out from identical grins. Their dark brown hair was already thick and unruly, and their eyes were the same shade of brown as his own. But he fancied he saw a hint of their mother in their tiny chins, and definitely in those toothless smiles.

"Jarod, dear! You're a sight for sore eyes!" Sally called as she hurried down the corridor to meet him. "I thought those nasty Centre people had us for a while there."

"Sally�" His voice was husky and choked.

"Boys, say hello to your daddy." Sally beamed at them and they waved their fisted hands wildly. "Jarod, this is Brennan and that other fine lad is your son Brone."

Jarod just reached out a gentle finger to stroke Brennan's soft, chubby cheek. In a flash Brennan had captured his father's finger in a surprisingly tight grip and was trying to guide it into his mouth for a taste.

"I wouldn't." Sally cautioned laughingly. "He bites now---hard!"

"Sally, I have to leave right now." Jarod looked at her earnestly, a hint of tears in his eyes. "Will you----will you take care of them for me?"

"Of course I will." Sally's expression turned grave in an instant. "Going to get their mother?" She guessed shrewdly.

"Yes, but---"

"But he's walking into a bloody trap!" Curt burst out with exasperation.

Jarod's face shuttered and stubbornness took over.

"I'm going, Curt." He stated again, flatly.

"Just listen for a second, okay?" Curt begged earnestly. "You've got another half an hour before you have to leave---an hour if I promise you the use of one of our helicopters. Take that time to help our cryptographer break the last set of files, and we'll be right behind you."

"What are you saying?" Jarod swung to look at Curt, his face still grim, but a sliver of hope dawning in his eyes.

"With what's hidden in those files, I'm sure I can get the final approval to go in and clean out the Centre entirely." Curt assured Jarod. "Even the Federal Defense Bureau will have to back us up."

The FDB was the reason that the attack on the Centre had turned out so disjointed and sloppy. They were fighting to keep the government out of this battle, and Curt had gone out on a limb simply by authorizing the action they�d already taken.

"I think you'll find that the FDB was one of the Centre's biggest clients." Jarod said wryly.

Curt grinned with relief, knowing that he'd won.

"I'm sure you're right, as always." Curt agreed willingly. "Now, shall we go?"

"Just a sec, Curt." Jarod told him, turning back to Sally. "Sally, I have some news for you, but it isn't necessarily good news." He started carefully. "And I don't know how to soften it, so here it goes: Sam's alive. The Centre has him."

Curt leaped forward to catch Brennan as Sally paled and wavered on her feet.

"Alive?" She repeated weakly, tears in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure he's alive for at least the moment, but he's in the hands of the same madman who hurt Annie so badly before. I don't know what his real condition is. He seemed okay but�" Jarod's voice trailed of doubtfully as a vision of Annie's battered back rose before his eyes.

"Alive." A tear trickled down Sally's cheek, but she straightened, breathing deeply. "Then you'd better get to work, young man." She ordered Jarod firmly. "Go get my husband and Annie."

"I'll do my best." Jarod vowed softly, his eyes seeming to see someone else.

Without another word Jarod began making his painful way back down the hallway, headed for the lab where they had slowly broken code after code of the Centre's most secret documents. Curt stared after his retreating back in amazement before Sally's quiet statement turned his attention back to her.

"Give me Brennan and go help him." She ordered the younger man just as firmly as she had Jarod. "He may be a genius, but he's going to need all of the help he can get, I'm sure."

"Yes, Ma'am." Curt agreed respectfully. "He will, and I'll see to it that he gets it." He surrendered Brennan willingly, and hurried to catch up with his slower friend.

Sally turned to the young man who'd guided her this far and asked if he knew where they could go to "freshen up".

"Yes, Ma'am." He answered, his respect not automatic manners trained into him, like Curt's, but drawn from the admiration of one little old, civilian lady ordering his boss around and getting away with it. Sally smiled understandingly.

"My husband is retired Marine." She volunteered. "He always said I spent too much time watching him when he was a drill sergeant."

"Yes, Ma'am." He agreed, a cheerful grin growing on his face. "If you'll follow me?" Sally's smile vanished as soon as the boy pulled ahead to guide her and a thoughtful frown crease her brow.

Sam and Annie and the Centre�. She didn't like the sounds of things at all, but it could have been much worse.

We ignored the other people as we made our way through the halls. Parker was saying something, but it didn�t really register with me. As soon as we reached the room she stopped to say something to the two guards. We continued into the room, shedding the ruined hospital gown without a second thought.

Broots gasped in dismay and shock, but he meant nothing to us. We continued straight into the inner room and then to the bathroom. Once again, I needed to wash the encounter with Lyle off of our body.

We weren�t happy when we stepped out of the shower and saw Parker.

"Sydney thought you�d feel better if a female helped dress those cuts." She offered wryly.

Hurt flashed across her face when we stepped past her into the bedroom, ignoring her completely. I felt bad about that, in some far off place inside of us where compassion and kindness still existed, but the rest of me ignored that too.

We walked to my closet and chose the black shirt and overalls of my daytime attire, pulling them on with no concern about the fact that it wouldn�t be good for the injuries on my back, or who might walk through my door in the midst of our change. Only one person�s presence was worth worrying about, and he wasn�t here. We could feel Parker studying me, trying to understand our behavior, but none of it mattered.

Once our clothes were on we scooped up a comb and retreated to our corner to squat and rock while we brushed the tangles out of our hair. It fell well down our back by now, a light auburn where it had grown out and a dark brunette where I had dyed it in my vain attempt to hide us. We hummed voicelessly as we combed, as content as we could ever be.

"Syd, I don�t know." We heard Parker saying from the doorway. "She won�t even look at me."

"I was afraid something like this might have happened." Sydney answered gravely, his voice growing louder as he approached. "Let me try."

He dropped into a crosslegged sit in front of us. We felt a distant admiration that he could slip into that position at his age, but ignored him as thoroughly as we had Parker.

"Anne, this is Dr. Sydney. Do you remember me?"

Our hair was done and we laid the comb at our side, taking a moment to finger comb the wet strands across our face as a veil before we started rocking again, fingers twining and untwining now that they weren�t occupied with the comb. The sting of the torn flesh on our back, the dull ache of the bruises, the annoying voice of the man before us, were all minor distractions, easily disregarded.

"I want to examine you, Anne; to make sure that you haven�t been hurt inside. Do you understand me?"

He rummaged in the black bag beside him and came out with a thin flashlight. We knocked away his hand when he tried to brush back our hair to expose our eyes and gave him a reproachful glare before resuming our rocking.

"Anne, I have to see how badly you�ve been hurt." He repeated patiently and tried again to move the concealing hair.

We responded by curling into a tight ball on the floor, face buried in my knees, arms wrapped in a death grip around my knees. I wasn�t willing to strike at him again, he wasn�t a bad man, but he didn�t understand that we wouldn�t allow anyone to touch us except him. If we could have, we wouldn�t have let him touch us either, but we had no choice in that matter.

"I see." He said thoughtfully. "I guess you don�t want to be touched at the moment. Perhaps you�d be willing to talk to me? We�ve been worried about you. Could you tell us how you feel?" He tried gently.

We remained utterly still, barely breathing. Perhaps they would go away and forget us if we didn�t move, we reasoned vaguely.

Sydney sighed sadly and levered himself to his feet. We felt a tiny surge of elation; our ploy had worked!

"Well?" Parker demanded.

"I don�t know." Sydney told her gravely. "I don�t know if this is temporary or permanent. She could simply have regressed to this state as a survival mechanism or her mind could be completely shattered. I�d need a lot of time and unlimited access to her to make a determination. Right now, there�s no way she�ll cooperate with an examination." "So that�s it? We give up?" Parker�s voice rose slightly with frustration.

"There isn�t anything I can do right now." Sydney informed her, a tinge of impatience coloring his own voice. "Short of sedating her and performing an examination while she�s unconscious. Frankly, I�m not convinced that her condition is bad enough yet to justify that."

"There�s one thing left for us to do." Parker contradicted him grimly.

"And that is?" Sydney asked dryly, one brow raised.

"That is removing my brother from a position of power. In fact, I know just the cell to keep him in."

"Have you amassed an army I don�t know about?" Sydney asked pointedly. "Because it would seem to me that your brother has more Sweepers backing him up than you do."

"I�ve been at the Centre far longer than he has, Syd. I have resources that none of you know about." She answered confidently, the spring back in her step as she left our room.

We heard Sydney and Broots follow her out of our quarters and relaxed slightly. It appeared that Deirdre wasn�t coming again and we had nothing pressing to do. So we simply lay there, mind blank, waiting for a stimulus that we would have to react to. Once again time became meaningless and we simply drifted serenely, enjoying the unaccustomed peace.

The door finally opened, and our stomach dropped sickeningly as we scrambled into the proper, subservient position. Lyle burst into the inner room, the gloating smirk I'd anticipated and feared plastered across his face.

"He's here."

He hadn't needed to tell us, we could see it in his smugness.

"I couldn't have done it without you." He plopped himself down on the edge of the bed.

"Come take my shoes off, dear." He told us in a parody of marital coziness.

Memories plagued us, memories of Lyle, angry about something his sister, or father, or Jarod had done. We always knew when something had gone wrong during his days, the moment he walked through the doors, and every time we'd suffered for his irritation. But his elation was almost as bad.

Once, after he'd pulled some particularly nasty joke on his sister, we'd ended up so damaged that we could barely breathe for a week. Our ribs were still quite tender from that one. We suppressed a shudder of dread with the ease of long practice, and moved to obey---this was going to be bad---it was going to be very, very bad.

Damn! If only he could get into Lyle's mind! He didn't know if it was his emotional connection to the situation, or his abhorrence of the thoughts of psychopaths, but he just couldn't seem to get a handle on this situation.

He ignored the tiny voice inside of him that insisted that he didn't know what Lyle was thinking because he was afraid to. There was one thing that he had to admit, though. The only reason Lyle would give up the opportunity to torture him, was if he had something better in mind. A better torture to prepare for, or a better victim to torture, or both.

A shudder rippled through Jarod. Lyle was clever. In his madness it was easy to overlook his cunning, but that would be a fatal trap to fall into, especially now. Lyle was acting according to some plan, Jarod was convinced of that, and he could assume that this plan had the ultimate goal of punishing him for his years of absence and rebellion from the Centre. That Lyle planned to use Anne against him was a given, but why hadn�t he at least brought the two of them together?

Jarod's uneasiness was rising to frantic levels. Anne was in danger----more danger than he had imagined possible. He had to get out of this room!

`Where the hell is Parker?' He wondered grimly. `And Sydney and Broots? They said they�d try to get Anne and Deirdre to safety, did they? No, they can�t have. Lyle would be here throwing a fit if Anne was gone. Has Lyle done something to them too?'

As if his desperation had conjured it Jarod heard two muffled shots and the door to his cell flew open. There she stood, gun pointed towards the ceiling, but held with both hands so that she could fire in an instant. She truly was magnificent and Jarod felt slightly stunned. For a moment the two exchanged long, assessing looks.

There had been something between them once, before the Centre and it's twisted secrets had turned him into the hunted and her into the hunter. She noted his limp, and the cane. His healed lacerations from the window escape still shone with thin, reddish purple scar tissue, but he was still handsome and a commanding presence.

He noted the hair flying wildly around her face, and the glitter of fury in her eyes. For a moment he was worried that the anger was directed at him, but almost as soon as the thought manifested he realized that Parker had finally thrown her traces. She�d turned against the Centre with a vengeance and she had released years of suppressed rage to empower her. He tried to smile.

"Thanks. I was just wondering where you were. How is she?" He asked hopefully, knowing that she would know exactly who he referred to.

She was his childhood friend, and he knew her almost as well as he knew himself, as she did him. She didn�t disappoint him.

"Bad." She answered tersely. "She won�t let Sydney examine her, won�t even acknowledge our presence. If we push it, she curls into a ball like a potato bug."

"How long have I been here?"

"About 3 hours."

"Damn!" Jarod began hobbling towards the door, frustration clearly on his face as he examined the possibilities with lightning speed. "Curt and his should be here any minute now, and Anne and Deirdre are still in the line of fire."

"Deirdre is okay. Broots got her to safety with the help of her nurse and the nurse�s Sweeper friend. Anne, though, is far too heavily guarded. He�s obsessed with her, Jarod." She had modified her pace to match his, but it was obviously an effort for her. Her gaze moved constantly all around them and her 9 mm was ready in her hand. "I have no doubt that one of the orders he gave her guards was to kill her at the first sign of trouble. And just who the hell is Curt?"

"I honestly don�t know. He�s a part of some government agency that cleans up cesspools like the Centre. I�ve been helping them since sometime after Anne was taken."

She turned the knob to one of the unmarked doors lining the corridor, and a moment later it was like a family reunion. Sydney, Broots, both Sams and Angelo all waited in the small conference room. After a brief, but joyous round of greetings, where Sydney fretted over Jarod's still healing injuries and Jarod reassured Sam Flemming of Sally's safety, Parker pulled them all back to the important task---liberating Anne before Lyle killed her.

"Leavenworth is easier to get out of." She finished her summary of the situation grimly.

"Angelo?" Jarod turned to his other childhood friend entreatingly. "Did you feel anything from Anne while you were there? Do you feel anything now?"

Angelo thought about it, his eyes seeming to look inward while he reached out with his other senses.

"Annie far away." He finally offered quietly. "Wants to sleep."

"Sleep how?" Jarod's voice expressed the alarm everyone was feeling.

"Sleep always---no more pain." The sorrow on Angelo's face made his meaning more than clear.

"We're going in there!" Jarod declared fiercely.

"Yes, we are." Parker answered bracingly. "But not without a plan. We do her no good if we get ourselves killed."

"Sleep." Angelo said suddenly. Everyone looked at him blankly.

"Guards sleep, no guns." He tried again. Still they looked blank, until Jarod burst out.

"Of course! There has to be a colorless and odorless sleep gas somewhere in this mausoleum! If we flood the floor----"

"If Anne is as close to death as Angelo intimated," Sydney objected regretfully, "this could kill her."

"We have to take the chance." Parker said decisively when Jarod hesitated. "It's the only chance she has!" She added firmly when he continued to hesitate.

"She's right." Jarod agreed reluctantly. "Let's hurry."

They sketched a quick plan of action, divided up the tasks among themselves, and separated moments later. Accustomed to Angelo's silence and almost invisible presence, no one noticed when Angelo left them during the planning.

An hour later the four plotters burst through the door to Anne's prison. Their eyes were almost immediately drawn to the far corner where a gas masked Angelo crouched watchfully over what initially looked like a crumpled blanket on the floor.

Jarod recognized the small form underneath the blanket first, and in his fear nearly made all the way to her side without using his cane once. When he got closer, however, he realized that she too had a gas mask on. It wasn't until he knelt, though, and felt her pulse throbbing gently at her neck, that he allowed himself to believe she was still alive.

Her blue eyes were open, but they seemed to gaze blankly at nothing---she barely even blinked. Jarod noted the signs of abuse under the gas mask, and the bare shoulder peeking out of the blanket indicated that she was naked. His heart sank and he began to pray in his mind, asking a nearly forgotten God to save his Annie.

"Annie?" He breathed gently, blinking rapidly to push back his tears. "Annie it's me, Jarod. It's okay, now. You're safe." She didn't acknowledge his words by so much as a flicker of an eyelash.

Parker determined that there was nothing they could do, and motioned Sydney, Broots, and Sam to join her in the corridor. There, they busied themselves in handcuffing all of the Sweepers they found. By the time they had finished the gas had been cleared from that floor, and they removed the uncomfortable masks while they walked back to the room.

"What do you think, Sydney?" She asked quietly, as they neared the door. "Is there any hope for her?"

"There�s always hope." He told her honestly, but his eyes were troubled and a worried frown creased his brow.

Parker's face imitated that worried frown, but she'd been trained in security well, and her sharp mind told her that their work wasn't done. Lyle was still on the loose, and would be doubly dangerous once he discovered that he no longer controlled Anne. Parker hadn�t been kidding when she said that Lyle was obsessed with Anne.

"We've got to neutralize Lyle." She told the Sams bluntly.

Sweeper Sam nodded, his dark eyes fixed on Jarod and Annie in the corner of the room. Jarod and Angelo had also removed their masks, and Anne's. Jarod held Anne's blanketed form, rocking her gently in the same corner she had claimed as her sanctuary. Angelo crouched patiently beside them, his expression grave.

"I didn't know, Miss." Sam told her guiltily. "I didn't want to know."

"None of us did, Sam." Parker's eyes held an unfamiliar light in them, sympathy. "But I'd like to believe we would have stopped him if we had. Now, all we can do is clean up the mess and pray for the best."

"Jarod, how is she?" Sydney asked him gently.

Slowly Jarod's head raised, his eyes so full of anguish that Parker covered her mouth to repress a cry of dismay and Sam Flemming closed his eyes to brace himself for the worst. They were sure that they'd come too late.

"She should survive what he did to her." Jarod's words eased their initial fears, but his next words raised more. "But she doesn't respond---to anything. I can't reach her, Syd! She---she---" He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

"I'm afraid that her mind might be---" He couldn't force the words out.

Sydney nodded, and knelt in front of them to conduct his own, quick examination.

"Broots, would you get my bag from my office?" He requested a few moments later, after he'd checked her pupils and reflexes as best he could without tools.

"We'll go with him." Parker volunteered herself and Sam without a second thought.

She was uneasy around so much naked emotion, and the fact that her brother had wrought so much devastation made her feel unaccountably dirty. It was as if his evil had somehow tarnished her soul.

"Good idea." Sydney agreed absently, as he watched Jarod and the utterly still woman in his arms carefully. "There are still plenty Sweepers loyal to your brother around. But I think it's best if you stay here, Parker, to guard them, and Broots and I go with Sam."

"I�ll help." Sam Flemming volunteered, examining the handgun he�d been supplied earlier with brief competence. "I�m still a crack shot.

Parker's eyes darkened uncomfortably and her eyes darted from Jarod and Anne to the door like a trapped animal. She wanted to be gone, she didn�t want to have to see what her brother was guilty of. Then her rational mind kicked in and she nodded. The Sweepers Lyle had left here were neutralized, but the moment Jarod's friends showed up Lyle would be on his way here.

"Okay, Syd." She agreed unhappily. "But hurry."

She didn't want to stay here and feel Jarod's pain or see Anne's unresponsiveness. She didn't want to feel anymore guilt for her affiliation with the Centre that had allowed---no, encouraged it. But, at the same time, she felt a need to do something that would erase those feelings of guilt; to pay for her relationship to the man who'd caused all of this agony. She closed the door behind the departing men, and turned her attention to her two oldest friends.

"What are her injuries?" She asked, not sure she wanted to know, but needing to fill the silence.

She couldn't help but note the bruises on Anne's face, or remember the condition of her back when she'd seen it earlier today. There was no question that Anne would bear scars for the rest of her life. Parker wondered if that had been Lyle's intention all along; to place a permanent mark on her.

"She's got several lumps on her skull, but none that worry me unduly." Jarod answered, clicking almost obviously into a physician's mindset. "There's extensive bruising everywhere on her body, but I didn't detect any signs of internal bleeding. She's breathing very shallowly, and seemed like she wanted to protect her right side, so I think she's got some bruised ribs at the very least."

Parker nodded, turning her eyes away to scan the room carefully. It was more that just the watchfulness of sentry duty----she couldn't bear the sight of Anne's blankly staring eyes. She felt like they were silently accusing her.

She felt a grudging respect for the frail seeming woman, realizing that her survival this long indicated a strength that quite frankly awed her. And if Jarod cared about her, had continued to care for her through the months they'd been free, she must have something special to offer him. She found herself wishing she could get to know her better, wondering if they would have been friends under other circumstances.

"Jarod," Parker's blue eyes, a shade paler that Anne's, were focused determinedly on the door as she spoke. She had to say the words, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him while she did.

"I swear, I had no idea." She assured him, wondering if he would believe her; if he could forgive her. "If I had---"

"I know, Parker, I know." He cut her off gently, kindly. "You aren�t responsible for Lyle�s sins."

It was all he said, but it was enough. A fraction of the guilt weighing on her soul lifted at his obvious understanding.

We could hear them, dimly.

It was like we were lost somewhere in a dark cave, and the voices of people we knew were filtering down to us through tiny cracks in the stone around us.

We could feel Jarod's distress, but couldn't summon up the energy to care. It was quiet here, and peaceful and we hadn�t known much peace lately.

`I should let Jarod know I'm alive.' One of us thought hazily.

One of others was adamantly against that. She was convinced that any response at all would bring him back.

`Lyle's gone.' The part that wanted to speak to Jarod tried to tell her, but she knew better.

`But we heard Sydney and Miss Parker. How could they be here if Lyle wasn't gone?'She asked reasonably.

The other didn't know, but she was certain that it was all a cruel trick and that we must be silent and still. She dredged up the memory of the time we�d been catatonic, pointing out that Lyle had taken us to the infirmary and left us alone for two whole days. Unresponsiveness was our only hope, she insisted firmly.

The part that cared gave up the argument. Moving hurt, and we were all tired of pain. In fact, we were just tired period. If Jarod was truly here all it really meant was that we didn�t have to live for Deirdre any longer. Her father would take good care of her, we all knew that.

Outside our rocky shell Jarod and our few friends might be waiting, but so was the pain, and we weren't willing to endure it just to reassure Jarod. What could we tell him anyway?

�We�re still alive, but now that you�re here we can give up. Glad you made it, but we don't think Lyle left much for you.� Or maybe a simple; �Hi honey, what took you so long?�

No, silence was the only real choice we had. Maybe after we had rested some and weren�t so tired we could evaluate the situation and make a decision. Right now we just wanted to sleep for a couple of hundred years.

The cautious part of us radiated a quiet satisfaction that we'd given up the argument, but it vanished when we realized that we were no longer alone in our mind. There was another presence here!

�Don't be afraid.� He thought soothingly, stepping out of the shadows.

�Not afraid!� The other thought, crouching like an animal waiting to spring and hands curling into claws.

"Sydney? What's going on? Why is she tensing like that?" Jarod's voice sounded more clearly in our mind.

We suspected it was being carried by the intruder's mind.

�Go away!� The other sent to the intruder, thinking red thoughts of attack.

�No.� He answered simply. �Anne needs us.�

�What do you mean? What can you do to for me?� Suddenly we were no longer a muddled conglomerate of personalities, but only two.

I stepped cautiously out of the shadows recognizing Angelo and accepting his presence in my mind as one accepts the presence of all kinds of fantastic things while one is dreaming. I saw my other self, my protector, crouched beside me like an attack dog, and accepted that calmly as well.

Angelo smiled, and made a gentle movement with his hand, and a second Angelo appeared.

�I'm not Angelo, I'm Timmy. He's Angelo.� He explained calmly.

Angelo and my other self approached each other cautiously. She was deeply suspicious of this development, I could tell, but now that my initial shock was over it made perfect sense to me.

�Angelo is your other.� I thought with the warmth of understanding. It was kind of nice not to be the only one with a crowded mind.

�Yes.� Tim smiled with encouragement. �But I never come out. I'm pretty much just along for the ride.�

�Don't you want to come out?� I asked curiously.

�Sometimes.� He admitted with a hint of regret. �But by the time I no longer needed Angelo to protect me from Raines, I couldn't find my way back out anymore.�

Angelo and the other were staring deeply into each other's eyes and I wondered if they were communicating.

�Yes.� Tim answered my thought, even though I hadn�t "spoken". �He's trying to convince her that Lyle is truly gone but it's not going over well.�

�Why not?� I demanded, feeling a thrill of alarm thread through me. I suspected that Tim had something unpleasant to tell me and I wasn�t wrong.

�Because we don't really know where he is.� He confessed reluctantly.

He took a quick step forward as both of us retreated further into the shadows at that news.

�But you're safe!� He insisted urgently. �Parker is out there with her 9mm and your friend Sam is here and armed too. Lyle can�t hurt you anymore.�

�Not until he kills or hurts them too.� I voiced the other's dismay with slightly better verbal skills. �As long as he�s alive he can find a way to hurt us. We aren�t coming out again to let him. Believe me, it�s better this way. Everyone we come in contact with get hurt and I don�t want any more pain on my head.�

And the two of us melted further into the stone of our shelter, until neither Timmy or Angelo could find us.

"Anne is still afraid." I heard Angelo volunteer from that comforting distance. "Won�t come out."

"Is she still there, Angelo?" Sydney asked, his voice heavy with doubt. "She isn't responding to any stimulus at all."

"Anne is still here." Angelo insisted. "She hides from pain."

"What can we do, Sydney?" Jarod's voice pulled me forward a little, before the other pulled me back beside her in the darkness.

His beautiful chocolate voice was dull with pain and I wanted to ease that pain. But the other was insistent, and I wasn�t strong enough to fight her.

"Right now, Jarod, there's only one thing I can do for her." Sydney answered; regret at his powerlessness coloring his voice. "They say sleep is a great healer." He added gently.

I wondered what he meant by that, until I felt the unmistakable prick of a needle. He was sedating us, I realized with a rush of gratitude. I welcomed the warmth that spread from my arm throughout my body. The multitude of aches and pains screaming for my attention faded and I dove into the beckoning darkness eagerly.

"Maybe when she wakes up she'll know us?" I could barely hear Jarod asking Sydney hopefully.

He wasn't a genius with all the answers now, but a little boy, begging his father for reassurance.

"It's possible, Jarod." Sydney told him gently, but with no real conviction. He didn�t want to disillusion Jarod, but experience told him it wasn�t going to be that easy.

�No.� The other answered my half formed thought that I might just come out then. �No more pain. Not ever.�

Before I could formulate a response the darkness rose higher and we sank like a stone below the surface of sleep.

"Jarod, put her down in the bed." Sydney repeated patiently when Jarod made no move to obey. "We still have work to do. Angelo will guard her----won't you Angelo?"

"Angelo watch." He agreed, his ancient eyes looking seriously at Jarod. "Annie safe."

Jarod fought with himself for a moment, before admitting that they were right. He still didn't know where his daughter was, or Lyle. And he was beginning to wonder where Curt and his men were.

"Okay, Angelo." He gave in reluctantly. "But watch her closely, okay? Any trouble, any at all, and you get me, okay?"

"Angelo understands." He told his friend, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

For just a moment the two faced each other man to man, and Jarod's worry eased just a little. When Angelo reached for Anne's sleeping body Jarod relinquished her without further hesitation. He knew his leg was still too weak to allow him to carry her even the short distance to the bed, not now that the initial rush of adrenaline had drained from his body. Already he could feel the offended limb throbbing from the abuse of far more use than it was accustomed to.

"What's the situation?" He asked Sam, tearing his gaze away from Angelo and Anne. "Where are Broots and Flemming?"

"They've gone to get Deirdre. Flemming said it's what you would want. He's armed, and he seems to know his way around hostile territory." Sweeper Sam answered gruffly.

He was very uncomfortable with this situation. He'd been in on the hunt for Jarod almost from the beginning and he and Jarod had some less than pleasant memories of each other. On the other hand, he wasn't an animal and Parker had shown him a few telling DSAs when she'd asked him to throw in with her.

He'd have done it anyway; he liked Parker and knew that she would never ask him to do something he couldn't live with later----unlike her brother Lyle. But some of the things he'd seen!

He sternly told his stomach to behave itself. Even Parker had turned white when she saw the screen, leading him to believe that it had been her first view of Lyle's activities too.

He'd actually helped Lyle when they'd had Jarod back for those few short weeks, but Lyle hadn't tried anything like what he'd done to that woman. Once again Sam found himself repressing a shudder and he forced his mind back to the matter at hand, grateful for something more positive to think about.

"Does he know where she is?" Jarod asked, dragging his mind away from Anne with difficulty too.

He was completely indifferent to Sam's presence in the little group of rebels, all he really cared about was making the world safe for the woman sleeping in the other room.

"Yeah. He got her nurse and another Sweeper to hide her in the greenhouse. He figured no one would even thinking of them right now, much less consider them a hiding place for an infant. They should be back soon. But there�s been no sign of Lyle. Maybe he went home, thinking he's won." Sam's voice held little hope and, as if to squash even that little bit, alarms sounded throughout the Centre.

"Curt?" Jarod wondered, startled.

"That's the escape alarm." Sam answered knowledgeably. "Lyle went looking for you and found your cell empty, is my guess. I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't on his way here now."

"Damn!" Parker cursed. "Hurry, Broots! All we need is for Lyle to intercept you along the way."

Jarod found himself in the uncomfortable and unaccustomed position of being trapped in a situation that was totally beyond his control. Parker and Sam were preparing and conducting their defense of the room, Sydney and Angelo were caring for Anne, Broots and Flemming were trying to retrieve his daughter, and he was superfluous. It made him feel uncomfortably like he'd felt growing up in the Centre. Like a useful piece of furniture with no say in his own existence.

"Call your friend." Sydney suggested, accurately reading Jarod's unhappy expression and deducing the cause. "He should know what he's walking into."

Jarod shot the older man a grateful look and opened his cellphone. In moments he determined that not only was Curt currently on his way, a few hours behind schedule, but he was prepared for a firefight.

"You want her, Brother dearest!" He heard Parker shouting as he closed the phone. "Come in and get her!"

He missed Lyle's answer, but Parker's derisive laugh let him know it wasn't pleasant.

"Not so brave against someone who can defend herself, are you? You sniveling little coward!" She spat back venomously. "Come on in here, I'll take you on by myself!"

"Didn't think you were man enough for that one." She responded to his unintelligible reply. "You were stupid to play your games in front of the cameras---I've already sent the DSAs to the authorities. Let's see the Triumvirate get you out of this. I hope you get the death penalty!"

Lyle shrieked something in return, and the occasional shots halted. Parker turned the defense of the door over to Sam and turned to face the other two men, her blue eyes glittering with barely repressed fury.

"Damn but I wish I could get my hands on him." She hissed to herself. Then she seemed to finally see Sydney and Jarod.

"Have your gas masks ready. If we thought of it chances are good one of them will too." She ordered them briefly before returning to her post by the door, muttering dire imprecations to herself.

The end was surprisingly anticlimactic. Curt's men mowed through the few Sweepers foolish enough to resist their superior force without even slowing.

The small group in Anne's cell were alerted to the change in Centre authority when Broots walked calmly down the hall, holding an unhappy, but silent, Deirdre and followed by Sam Flemming.

"It's okay!" Broots called cheerfully. "Jarod's friend is here. They're just mopping up a few pockets of resistance. Don't shoot!"

Behind the other two men Parker saw a well built black man in bulletproof armor leading three other, similarly clad men. The three began escorting the Sweepers that Parker and Sam had handcuffed down the hall. They seemed perfectly willing to go with the men----apparently jail was preferable to trying to melt into the floor during a firefight.

"Jarod!" The black man called. "Are you okay?"

Jarod gave Parker a nod, confirming that this was, indeed, the cavalry, and the four of them poured out into the hallway, Jarod bringing up the rear but limping as quickly as his damaged leg would let him. He collected his daughter from Broots with tears in his eyes, leaning against the wall for support and dropping his cane.

"So this is the last one, is she?" Curt asked, beaming at Deirdre and Jarod.

Jarod and Deirdre were too busy staring at each other to hear the other man. Deirdre's eyes were the clear, sparkling blue of her mother. They were solemn as she examined her father far more carefully than one would expect for an infant her age. Jarod blinked back his tears, brushing back her soft red curls with one finger.

"Hey, pretty girl." He whispered softly to his daughter. "I'm your daddy."

Deirdre appeared to consider this before finally smiling. It was a totally happy, unrestrained smile that involved her entire body in a way that only babies can manage. Then her tiny fists flailed out and she punched her father in the nose, much to the amusement of the people watching the father and daughter meeting.

"Wow, she sure took to you!" Broots marveled. "It was all I could do to get her to stop crying."

"Give her to me!" Parker ordered, holding out Jarod's cane. "I'll escort you back inside the room, and you two can wait there for the paramedics."

Deirdre's smile vanished when Parker plucked her from her father's arms and her lower lip trembled warningly.

"None of that!" Parker ordered the infant firmly. "I'm just carrying you for your daddy---you can have him back as soon as he's sitting."

Amazingly, the threatening tears vanished as the infant considered the other woman thoughtfully.

"Your daddy is an idiot, you know." Parker confided conspiratorially, smiling at Deirdre as they returned to the room that she knew better than any of them. "So you're going to have to keep an eye on him until your Mama is feeling better. But you're a bright girl, you can handle it."

Sydney marveled as he watched the two, Parker chatting matter of factly with a baby that could hardly be expected to understand. But the baby certainly seemed to be paying attention, her little face grave. Finally, when Jarod was seated again in the rocker, his arms held out demandingly for his daughter, Parker smiled and winked at the little red head. Once again, to the amazement of those watching, Deirdre smiled and gurgled, and cheerfully went into her father's lap.

"What are you looking at?" Parker demanded with mock irritation. "She's a girl, of course she understands! Now let's go find my brother." She added in all grim seriousness.

The room emptied quickly. Curt and Sydney were the last to leave, their heads together in an earnest conference that involved more than a few worried looks towards the door to the other room and the quiet man and the baby. Sam Flemming listened in, his face darkening with each word until the two prepared to leave. Then he announced his intention to check up on the woman who was all but a daughter to him.

Jarod was entranced by his daughter and didn't seem to notice a thing. In the silence that fell when the last two left Jarod could be heard promising his daughter the best of everything and praising her for every quality he could think of. It quickly became apparent that Deirdre was perfect in his eyes, from her unruly red curls, so like her mother's, to her tiny pink toes, which Jarod dutifully counted and began playing "this little piggy" with. Deirdre was chuckling happily, a new experience for her, when Lyle appeared in the doorway.

He was a mess. His hair stuck out wildly in every direction, his face and expensive white shirt were streaked with dust and dirt and his tie and jacket were missing entirely. He had a beautiful shiner forming on one eye, but his expression showed no evidence of defeat. Instead, the madness on his face seemed even more pronounced, and the gun in his hand made him even more dangerous.

"You think you've won!" He hissed at Jarod, advancing on him with the gun trained unerringly right between Jarod's eyes. "But you haven't. She's mine now---I made her mine. Even if she isn't with me, she'll always be mine."

Hatred and insanity gleamed in his brown eyes while malice wiped every trace of attractiveness from his face.

"Give it up, Lyle." Jarod said with a calm he didn't feel, putting Deirdre on the floor where he hoped she'd be out of harm's way. "The Centre is crawling with agents. You haven't got a chance."

"Where's my Eve?" Lyle ignored Jarod's words, utterly focused on his own goal. "She's coming with me, with the brat. We'll start over."

"Anne," Jarod stressed the name, his eyes glittering with rage, but still not making a threatening move. "Is in the other room under heavy sedation. She isn't going anywhere."

"Fine." Lyle abandoned her without a second thought. "Then I'll take the brat." He gestured towards Deirdre with his free hand.

"Over my dead body." Jarod allowed the fury he felt to show openly on his face and gathered himself to make a suicidal leap on Lyle.

"That was always the plan!" Lyle gloated triumphantly. His finger began to tighten on the trigger.

"But was I?"

Sam's quiet question startled Lyle's focus, and his gun wavered for just an instant.

It was all the opening Sam needed. He fired three shots before Lyle could take a breath, each and every one fatal all by itself. Lyle never had a chance.

A look of shock covered his features as he began to collapse. Like most madmen he had somehow believed he was invincible. His own death was inconceivable to him and his expression of confusion went with him to the grave.

Jarod looked down at the dead man at his feet without expression. He wiped a few spatters of Lyle's blood off of his face and picked up his daughter, cuddling her to him as if she was his comfort and not the other way around. Angelo appeared in the door and saw Lyle's body. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face and when two of Curt's men came in to remove the body he stopped them with a word.

"No!" He barked, frowning firmly. "Anne needs to see."

Curt's men looked confused and Sam spoke up, throwing Angelo a grateful smile.

"My friend Angelo is quite correct." He told the men. "This man tortured a woman in the room behind me. Seeing him dead will do a great deal to help her begin to recover."

"We were just going to take him to the main conference room." One of the men explained, still puzzled. "We've turned it into a temporary morgue."

"No." Sam reiterated patiently. "Leave him there. I'll see to it that he gets there after we're done with him. Don't worry, I don't think he has any family that will care one way or another."

"Damn straight I won't." Parker growled, stalking into the room to stare at her brother's still form with an odd mixture of disgust and regret and relief. "Leave him here. If seeing him like this helps Anne then it's the very least he could do to make up for the damage he's caused."

We awoke hours later, and lay perfectly still, listening carefully. We were in our own bed---the one that had only been used for one thing, because she wouldn't let us sleep in it, which meant that either Lyle was back, or someone who didn�t know us was in control. We lay perfectly still, listening carefully.

Someone was with us, but not on the bed, on the floor. He was asleep and we quickly identified him as Angelo. Then we sat up slowly, finally realizing how badly we hurt. Once again, breathing was an agony---probably cracked ribs. Our back hurt worse than usual, and our head throbbed with every breath.

Oh, yes, we remembered now, Lyle had hit us with the whip again. He used it to lure Jarod back to the Centre. We considered simply laying down again and pretending we were unconscious, but the Anne part of us wanted to know what was going on.

Slowly the happenings of the day came back to us. It was an effort because we usually tried to forget, not to remember, but Anne insisted on understanding. We remembered Miss Parker and Sydney trying to examine us after Lyle had filmed us. We remembered Lyle�s return later in the day, but our mind shied away from what had occurred then. That was okay, though, we were used to memories that had to be avoided like land mines littering our mental landscape.

We thought we remembered Jarod�s voice and touch, but it was too vague of a memory for us to be sure. We also thought we remembered a conversation with not one, but two Angelos. It could mean that we were crazy, the Anne part of us thought, but that didn�t really matter to us. Sanity was a luxury that we really weren�t concerned about.

We realized that we would have to see if there was anyone in the outer room. The fact that Angelo slept next to our bed meant that something had happened, but none of us were sure just what that was. Cautiously we wrapped a blanket around us and made our way into the next room. We had barely cleared the door before we stopped dead in shock. He was there! We recognized his hated form in an instant. He lay utterly still over a dark stain.

Blood, he was laying in blood.

We approached him cautiously, suspecting a nasty trick of some kind, but he never moved, not even when we prodded him gingerly. His body was stiff and cold, but we examined him carefully anyway. Anne knew that he was dead, but the other couldn't seem to grasp the concept. The third entity in our mind, that sarcastic little voice that sometimes helped and sometimes made things worse was silent.

The other, the silent survivor, was puzzled, prodding Lyle�s body again, expecting him to rise and start issuing orders. Her world began and ended with Lyle. If he didn't exist, then what of her? She was at a loss.

She pulled us back into the nearest corner, settling us on our haunches to rock and think. She never took our eyes off of the body, not trusting his stillness.

`He's dead.' Anne told her, still not entirely convinced herself, though. Too much had happened to us to really trust what we were seeing now.

`We're free.'

�No.� She thought back instantly.

Free wasn't a notion she could understand.

�No, this is a trick. He wants us to do something wrong, so he can punish us again. We�ll stay here and wait for him to get up.� She decided.

We were still arguing when Jarod burst into the room. We almost had a heart attack!

"Anne!" He limped towards us, coming to a stop a few feet in front of us, when we cringed back, covering our head with our arms.

Anne felt terrible when the hope on his face faded and even worse when he reached out to touch us and then pulled his hand back uncertainly. She still loved him deeply, but in a way that made things worse. She had been defiled in ways that he couldn�t understand and she hated for him to see her like this. We pulled her hair in front of our face again, hiding.

He drew a deep breath, and sat on the floor near us---his injured leg still wasn't up to things like crouching. The other drew us further back in the corner, watching him warily. She waited for him to get angry, or to give us an order, or in some way take up where Lyle had left off.

Instead, he looked at us with such hope and love on his face that Anne wanted to wail her misery. Didn't he know that his Annie didn't exist? That she'd never existed, except in his imagination? And now, after everything, how could he still think he wanted the woman before him? Couldn�t he see that we were too badly damaged now to love?

"Anne." He repeated gently, restraining himself from taking me into his arms with an obvious effort. "It's me, honey, Jarod. You're safe now."

The appeal in those chocolate brown eyes pulled at Anne�s heart and the pain in his velvet voice was enough make her want to come out and comfort him. Only the fact that we all knew he was better off without us kept us still. It was an effort, but we kept our expression blank, allowing no recognition, and especially no sign of the love in our heart, to show.

Angelo wandered into the room, sleeping bag wrapped around his shoulder and creases still showing on his face from the pillow.

"Anne afraid." He volunteered over a yawn.

"Of what?" Jarod asked, and the frustration in his voice had us flinching again.

The other part of us had expected that tone. She knew what was coming next. We edged cautiously a little further away, ignoring the remorse on Jarod�s face when he notice.

Angelo looked at Jarod seriously, and I could feel the Timmy part of him trying to help the Angelo part express what they knew.

"Pain." He said simply.

"Lyle is dead, Anne." Jarod assured us. "He won�t ever hurt anyone again."

�He doesn�t have to hurt us again.� Anne thought sadly. �We�ve already been hurt beyond repair.�

�Talk to him, Anne!� Timmy urged mentally.

�I can't!� She whispered back, wanting desperately to cry. �How could I? What could I possibly say? His Anne no longer exists---if she ever did.�

Angelo sighed with Timmy's frustration and crouched down on the other side of me, ignoring Lyle's body and patting my knee comfortingly.

�I know you�ve been terribly hurt.� Tim sympathized finally. �But you can�t close yourself off like this. He only wants to help you.� "Angelo?" Jarod prompted, his face a mixture of worry and longing.

"Too much pain." Angelo explained sadly. "No trust."

"Jarod, you need to back off. You're rushing her." Sydney and a woman I'd never seen before stood just inside of the door, and it was the woman who'd spoken.

She was tall, almost as tall as Miss Parker, with dark brown hair and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. I found myself wondering if she wore colored contacts.

"I don't understand." Jarod struggled to his feet and limped towards Sydney, seeking reassurance. "Lyle is dead, and she knows I'd never hurt her. What's holding her back?"

"Jarod, perhaps we should discuss this someplace else?" The woman suggested firmly.

"Why?" Jarod threw a look at us over his shoulder, but we didn't acknowledge it. We wanted him to leave.

Once again our fingers twined and untwined and our lips formed the words to the rhyme the other liked so much.

To the others we must have looked totally mindless. Only Angelo, and the strange woman, had a clue of our actual condition.

"Because she understands every word we say, Jarod, no matter how mindless she looks. You could destroy any hope with a single misspoken word." The woman answered again. "You need to leave now----give her some space. I would be very surprised at this point if she allowed any man to be near her for some time to come."

"But----"

"Come, Jarod." Sydney intervened, physically taking his arm and leading him out of the room.

I heard him explaining as they left the room, "Think, Jarod. If you weren't in love with her, but were her psychiatrist instead, what would you think was happening here?"

The rest of what was said was lost as the door closed behind the two men, and the woman advanced further into the room. When she was just over an arms length away from me she crouched down, waiting until we eyed her though the veil of our tangled hair.

"I'm Doctor Susan Miles." She told me, capturing my gaze with her own.

She didn't have contacts, I noted, focusing on the extraneous because she made me terribly nervous, her eyes really were that brilliant shade of green.

"Jarod asked me to come here and help you." She continued, her voice very gentle and her entire posture completely neutral. "You're babies are all safe. Your friends Sally and Sam are helping Jarod take care of them in another part of the building."

I stopped rocking, she had my complete attention. Finally! I could lay that burden down; the worry about my children. They were safe.

"Would you like to see them?" She asked, noting my interest.

`Yes!' I shouted from the confines of our mind. The other was silent, trying to spot the trick, the danger.

"No trick." Angelo told us gravely. He hadn't moved when the others had left. "Babies safe."

Susan looked from the one of us to the other curiously, but kept silent, allowing Angelo space to help. I wondered why she hadn't sent him away with Jarod, after all, Angelo is a man too.

�She�s simply following your lead. You haven�t flinched away from me so she knows that you don�t consider me a threat.� He answered with unassailable logic. The other finished her inspection of Susan's face, and decided that we might be able to trust her. She finally responded to my desire with a cautious nod. Susan was wise enough not to smile or show relief, which would have frightened the other into thinking she'd fallen into a trap and just nodded back, rising to speak to someone outside the door.

"Anne." She said when she was once again crouched near me.

I wondered how she did it. I'd had months to strengthen those muscles but she didn't seem to feel any strain from the unusual position. "Will you come with us to another room? We don't want to bring the babies down here. It needs to be cleaned."

`Aha!' The other thought triumphantly. `That's the trick! They want us to leave our room.'

`So?' I argued reasonably. `It's not like we have happy memories of the place----or like we ever felt safe here. If we don't like where she takes us we'll come back.'

She didn't have a good response for that, but she wasn't happy. The rooms were familiar, and in her mind strange was bad. New situations were to be avoided at all costs.

"Angelo go too." He offered suddenly, standing up and offering his hand to us.

He waited while the other studied the situation suspiciously. Finally, with one last look at Lyle's body, she took his hand and allowed him to lead us from our room. She wasn't happy with the men in the halls, most of them wearing dark blue slacks and jackets, some still wearing body armor and most with weapons. She stayed close to Angelo, trying to watch all of them at once.

The elevator didn't bother her. It was just the three of us (not counting the extra people Angelo and I carried in our heads) and it was nicely enclosed, but the apartments that Susan led us to were high in the Tower, with large windows revealing a spectacular sunset. My other was extremely nervous, disliking the open spaces intensely. Angelo knew my distress almost before I did.

"Too big." He announced firmly.

Susan shot me a puzzled look, trying to decipher Angelo's statement. She must have seen the fear in my eyes as I looked at the rooms, because she led us to a bedroom off to one side. The windows there smaller and covered with thick blinds and, of course, the room itself was smaller. The other was finally willing to let go of Angelo's hand and began to cautiously explore the room, her attention always on the lookout for good hiding places.

She kept a wary eye on the door, noting when Susan left, but willing to be patient because Angelo remained. For some reason, Angelo was the only person she really trusted, and even I didn't understand why. When Susan returned, however, she wasn't alone. As promised, she brought my children and Sally and Sam had come with her.

I saw tears glitter in Sally's eyes when we whirled to face them as the door opened. The other kept us near the covered windows, and far from the door, even as I urged at her to let us go to the children.

Deirdre, and Brennan and Brone were beaming at me from their perches in the newcomer's arms. The remainder of the fear that I�d had for them eased as I observed their obvious health and happiness.

"Hello, Anne." Sally said, her voice uncertain as I kept distance between us. "Do you remember me?"

The other watched them warily, allowing no sign of recognition to cross our features. Sally's distress grew as she moved farther into the room and I moved cautiously back. Finally she set Brennan down in the middle of the floor, (where he immediately pushed up onto his chubby little arms), and hurried out of the room. I felt guilty about her pain, but the other was firmly in control, keeping us quiet and cautious.

Sam kept his concern better hidden as he laid Brone down next to his brother. Before he turned to go after his wife he fixed me with an understanding stare.

"Annie." He said, his voice husky with the same pain that darkened his usually cheerful eyes. "We're here for you, honey. We love you, girl, just like you were our own. So don't go thinking you're alone in this, because you aren't."

He didn't wait for a response, although I felt tears pricking at the backs of my eyes, he just followed his wife out into the other room. I heard the faint sound of Sally weeping and Sam comforting her. Susan wasn't willing to let me off so lightly, though. She didn't lay Deirdre on the floor next to her brothers, but brought her directly to me. I knew she was forcing us to allow another person close enough to us to touch, and neither of us appreciated that, but I could understand even though the other didn't.

She glared impotently at the woman, who ignored the silent warning and held out Deirdre. When Deirdre reached for me the other's control was broken and I reached out for her eagerly. Susan didn't push her victory, but retreated, Angelo going with her, and they left me alone with my babies.

Tears began to slip down my cheeks as I joined my sons on the floor and breathed in the clean baby smell of my children. Fortunately, they didn't seem to mind getting a little wet.

"I don't like this." Jarod said adamantly as the others in the hastily converted conference room watched Anne and the babies on the monitor. "We're invading her privacy."

"Anne has no concept of privacy right now." Susan assured him absently, most of her attention focused on the screen. "And it's for her own good."

"It's like you don't trust her alone. She'd never hurt the babies." Jarod protested. That got Susan's full attention.

"Of course she'd never hurt the children!" She assured Jarod with a small smile. "If I thought for one instant she would I'd never have left her alone with them."

"Then why?"

Susan sighed and led him into the large suite's living room, allowing Sydney to continue the observation alone.

"Jarod, Anne's been through hell." She began kindly, after they were both seated. Jarod opened his mouth to reply, but she forestalled him with an upraised hand. "She survived by retreating deeply within herself." She continued.

"She's only allowed herself to operate on what was virtually an instinctive level, with no higher cognitive functions at all. We're trying to bring her back to that higher level. A level that she cannot reach without remembering what has been done to her, and, unfortunately, feeling all of the emotions that came with the degradation Lyle inflicted on her.

"The advantage of her almost bestial level of functioning is that she doesn't feel much of anything right now. When she finally does allow herself to feel it won't be pleasant. She has to be watched, and I mean continually, because the odds are high that she will attempt suicide sometime in the next few weeks."

Jarod paled, and he was briefly grateful that he was sitting.

"But she's safe now." He protested weakly.

"Her body is safe now." Susan corrected him firmly. "The battle for her mind is just beginning. Come on, Jarod. You know exactly what I'm talking about!" She chided him gently. "Stop thinking with your wishes and start using that brain of yours. What I helped you to come to terms with was nothing compared to what�s been done to Anne."

"Maybe I should watch the DSAs." Jarod suggested half heartedly. "To understand.

Susan shook her head, much to his relief, pity shining in her green eyes.

"That's the last thing you should do. That would be a true invasion of her privacy. She doesn't want you to know what happened to her, and, trust me, you don't want to know either."

"No." Jarod agreed, his soft brown eyes nearly black with torment. "I don't. But I feel so damn helpless!"

"I know, Jarod, but you're going to have to give us time. I suggest you occupy yourself figuring out where to go from here. The Centre has been cleaned out, for the most part, so what do you think should happen next?"

"Dynamite?" Jarod suggested bitterly.

"Mmmm, that could be a problem." Susan smiled. "Anne's not about to leave the building, so if you blow the place up�"

Jarod smiled, albeit unwillingly.

"Okay, no dynamite." He agreed. "Where�s Parker? She should certainly be involved in any planning."

"Miss Parker is giving a deposition in her office, although I believe Curt has arranged for her to have amnesty along with Sam, Sydney, and Broots, for their assistance in the clean up. Broots and Sam are probably with her."

"Fine." Jarod stood up, determination covering his face. "First thing we'll need is an inventory----and a lot of light bulbs." He added, thinking of the dark corridors and rooms of the sublevels.

Susan sighed with relief as he left the room and she went in to join Sydney in the other room. Anne and the babies were all sleeping on the floor of the room, and Susan watched as Angelo crept into the room and covered them all with blankets. She was astonished to see that he was even able to slip a pillow under Anne's head without waking her.

"How does he do it?" She marveled.

"I'm not sure." Sydney responded thoughtfully. "But they communicate on a wordless level, have you noticed?"

"Yes." Susan took a seat at the oval table and noticed the images on the computer screen in front of Sydney. It was the surgery to remove the bullet Anne had undergone on her first day back at the Centre.

"My God!" She breathed, shocked out of her customary composure. "That's barbaric!"

"That's only the beginning." Sydney sighed sadly.

By morning both psychiatrists were caught up on Anne's months of captivity. They knew of the tortures Lyle had used on her, and they had a pretty good idea of what had gone on in the inner room of her chambers where Lyle had ensured there were no cameras. Both were pale and looked nauseous, and they sat wordlessly for some time after the last DSA had finished.

"How are we ever going to reach her?" Susan finally said numbly.

"Should we even try?" Sydney asked bleakly. "Maybe we could hypnotize her and suppress the memories?"

"You don't really think you stand a chance of hypnotizing her, do you?" Susan asked bluntly. "Besides, repressed memories generally come out sooner or later, so we wouldn't be doing her any favors. No, she survived this far, somehow we're just going to have to convince her to learn to live with this."

"Babies." Angelo's voice came from behind the two psychiatrists, startling them.

"Babies?" Sydney repeated blankly.

"Of course." Susan breathed, hope lighting her face. "She obviously loves them deeply. I�m convinced that it was caring for Deirdre that kept her going through the worst of all of this. We have keep them with her absolutely as much as possible. Caring for them may be the only thing that can keep her going while we help her to deal with everything else."

"Does she need that kind of stress right now?" Sydney questioned doubtfully.

"It'll be a good excuse to get Sam and Sally and even Jarod and Angelo around her and helping." Susan argued.

"That just might do it! Thank you, Angelo!" Filled with renewed purpose, Susan looked towards the monitor of the room, checking again on the battered woman.

"Omigawd!" She breathed desperately. "She's gone! Damn! How'd she do that?"

She and Sydney raced into the bedroom, confirming that Anne was, indeed AWOL. Sydney was on the cellphone that went everywhere with him. By force of habit he'd called Centre security, and by luck, Curt had set up a base in the security office. In moments Curt had four men examining the literally hundreds of camera feeds from all over the Centre and another dozen men conducting a search.

Susan, fearing the worst, was already on her way to the roof. Angelo, keeping his inhuman calm as always, knocked on the door of the room Sam and Sally had taken, and said one brief word to the older couple:

"Babies."

Then, while they headed towards the suite to see what on earth Angelo meant, he calmly made his way to the elevator, traveling to the lower levels with more ease than he'd been accustomed to before the liberation of the Centre.

I don't really know how she knew, but the other knew about the cameras, not that either of us was really surprised. She didn't expect to be treated with respect, she didn't even really understand what respect was. As for me, I understood far better than Susan could know. I knew she expected a suicide attempt, and I knew she was right, but not for the reasons she thought.

True, I knew that Jarod deserved better than what Lyle had left of me. I also hoped that the children might escape the curse that followed me if I was out of their lives. And more than anything I wanted to be free of the images of Lyle's gloating smile, menacing frown, and instruments of torture. But the bottom line was even more compelling.

The bottom line was what the voice in our head had tried to get us to tell Lyle for days. It was the real reason why we adamantly refused to be examined. It was the final straw in our disgrace. He had succeeded and we were pregnant.

I don�t know how we got to the hidden torture room, but when I surfaced from the sea of pain wracking us I realized exactly where we were. The other, in her simplicity, had responded to our need to end the pain by bringing us to the beginning of the pain. She then withdrew into the background, content that she had accomplished what was necessary yet again.

I looked at the instruments all around us, recognizing each one and placing every scar that every one had given me. The tear in my heart and soul grew wider as I realized that the life within me had been created by a man who�s mind had come up with all of this. Pain swamped us again, and this time we allowed it to come, welcoming it like the labor pains of childbirth, releasing the tears that we�d pent up for far too long.

That's how Angelo found us, curled into a nearly fetal position, and wracked with silent sobs. The other within us didn't even flinch when he gathered us up into his arms and began to rock back and forth, comforting us with his quiet presence and undemanding empathy.

He was waiting quietly in my mind when the storm finally eased.

�You can�t do it." He told me calmly, when I could listen again. �It would kill Jarod. And your children need you.�

�No, they�re safe now. They have Jarod, and Sally and Sam. If I stayed I would only hurt them all more.�

�You don�t think your death would hurt Jarod?� He demanded with brutal honesty. �That the children won�t be devastated when they are old enough to know that their mother left them willingly.�

�You don�t understand.� I argued painfully. � Lyle----� I couldn�t go on.

�I understand perfectly.� He countered firmly. �I�m an empath, remember? I know what he did to you and I know the legacy he�s left you with, but that�s all the more reason to fight!

�You can�t give up now, or he wins, and you can�t kill the child---it isn�t in your nature.��

�I can�t have it. What if it�s a monster like him? What if I hate it because of who it�s father was?�

�Lyle was a monster because of Lyle and his adoptive parents---it isn�t something you pass along in the genes. And you won�t hate the child, your heart was made for love. Even now there�s a part of you that grieves for what Lyle was put through as a child.� He assured me.

�I can�t. I�m not that Anne anymore. I've been hollowed out and there's nothing left inside but pain. Tim, I don't want to hurt anymore. I just can�t take anymore.�

�No one in their right mind wants to feel pain, Anne, but we all know it's a part of life. The pain you feel is good. It tells you that you are alive, that you aren't an empty shell. That you haven�t been stripped of your humanity.

�Anne I know you're telling yourself that Jarod deserves someone better, someone less damaged.� He added abruptly, beginning to pace in our limbo place. I was silent, shocked at his perceptiveness even though I knew that he was an empath.

�Well, you're wrong! He's not perfect. He's been damaged too, and he's as afraid as you are to deal with the pain and loss. He needs you Anne! He's already let you into his heart, and if you kill yourself it will be the ultimate rejection to him. He'll believe it was his fault until the day he dies and it will convince him without a doubt that he is unworthy of love. You won�t be saving him from anything.�

�He can be human with you, Anne, because he knows you understand. Even Miss Parker expects him to be the genius, the one with all of the answers, and rarely allows herself to believe that he's as fallible as the rest of us. You know better, you see his hurt, you see his lack of maturity, his excesses, his weaknesses, and he knows that. And you love him anyway, Anne, he knows that too. If you take that away from him it will kill something precious and fragile inside of him----and you will have let Lyle win more than he had even hoped. Is that truly what you want?�

�No-----but�.� My head hurt. He was turning all of my careful rationalizations upside down. �I----I can't----�

�Yes you can! You will!� He insisted firmly, grasping my shoulders and forcing me to look into his old, old eyes. �We'll all help you.� He promised.

I considered his argument reluctantly. I was bone tired from surviving for so many years, and I was desperately afraid of the pain and the responsibility. But I did love Jarod and the babies and I didn't want to hurt them. And I knew, when I was honest, that even now my death would hurt them all.

�What about you?� I finally demanded.

�What do you mean?� He was startled and more than a little uneasy about the question.

�If I have to get better, to learn to live with all of this, what about you? Why should I do it if you won't?�

�I---uh, well, Jarod doesn't---� I�d thrown him with that simple challenge. Part of me felt a fierce joy at his confusion.

�Yes he does. You and Parker are his oldest friends and it kills him to see you hurt; to see you so much less than you should be.� I returned firmly.

Part of me hoped he would give me permission to avoid my own pain in order to avoid his. Part of me wanted him to pay for forcing my to think about living! Beneath that part was an enormity of anger that frightened me half to death.

�If I try, will you?� He sighed deeply as he asked that question.

I knew he no more wanted to deal with his demons than I wanted to deal with mine. But both of us were tied together and to life by one unbreakable thread----we loved Jarod.

�Yes.� I growled resentfully, the anger a little closer to the surface.

�Then I�ll go through whatever healing process the other two declare necessary with you. We�ll support each other.� He declared softly.

The part of me that wasn�t angry at his interference felt a brief stab of gratitude at his self-sacrifice. I knew that what he was promising wouldn�t be easy for him. He had physical brain damage to overcome in addition to the emotional scars Raines had left him.

I sighed, and the anger drained from me in an instant, replaced by the too familiar fear. Tim laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, and strength flowed from him to me. I faced him, hope warring with fear, determination warring with defeat.

�Okay, I�m ready.� I lied weakly.

In the blink of an eye we were back in the room, surrounded by instruments of torture. I looked around, already regretting my decision, but Angelo�s hand rested on my shoulder again, and I nodded with resignation. He took my hand and began leading me towards the door.

My steps slowed the closer we got to it, and the other crept forward, sensing my discomfort. We were clutching Angelo�s hand in a white knuckled grip by the time we reached the elevator, and slid cautiously behind him, when the doors opened on a busy hallway. He kept his reassuring grip on our hand as we crowded his heels, gripping a fistful of his shirt with our other hand and trying to keep every person in the hallway under observation as we made our way towards the next set of elevators.

I noticed one of the blue jacketed men speaking into a cell phone or radio as we passed, his eyes pitying as they watched us pass. I had to resist the childish urge to stick out my tongue at him; I hated pity. Dread mounted as we approached the rooms I had fled hours earlier and the man that I loved. I stopped dead in my tracks just yards from the door to the suite of rooms, unable to take another step.

�I can�t!� I told Angelo silently. �I can�t face him. I can�t tell him.�

"You can." Angelo answered briefly, but with support shining from his pale blue eyes. "You will."

The door opened and Jarod started out, only to be intercepted by Sydney. I backed up, pulling Angelo with me since I still had a death grip on the back of his shirt.

"No, Jarod!" Sydney placed a restraining hand on his arm, and even though he could have easily thrown it off Jarod stopped.

"Let her return on her own. She needs some space." Susan explained, appearing in the doorway next to Jarod. "Come back inside and we�ll wait for her."

"Anne?" Jarod asked, his eyes begging me to come, to reassure him.

I shut my eyes tightly, blocking out his pleading expression, ready to bolt again.

"Come." Angelo ordered me firmly, tugging gently on my captive hand. "Jarod loves you. Always." He added the last word as an afterthought, obviously trying to reassure me.

�Wait!� I thought desperately, hanging back. �Give me a minute!�

And we paused, me trembling while I fought the overwhelming fear that I was about to drive Jarod away from me forever.

�You can do this, Anne.� Tim told me encouragingly in the privacy of my mind. �Let Jarod know. Let him support you.�

�What if he hates me? What if he feels I�ve betrayed him?�

�He�ll never hate you, Anne, and he feels that he has betrayed you, not the other way around. He�ll blame himself for what has happened, but not you.� Tim assured me gently. �Come on, let�s get it over with, and then you won�t have to wonder anymore.�

He waited patiently until I nodded reluctantly. Still, it took several more moments of debate before I took that next step towards the door. Relief flooded Jarod�s face and he finally gave in too Sydney�s insistent tugs on his arm to reenter the rooms. Susan waited patiently by the door, her expression encouraging.

"Do you want to talk to me alone, Anne?" She asked when we were almost there. "Jarod doesn�t have to be here if you don�t want him."

I couldn�t bring myself to release either Angelo�s hand or shirt, but Angelo heard my silent reply.

"Jarod stay." He said firmly. "Jarod must hear."

"Not if Anne doesn�t want him." Susan told him with equal firmness.

"Anne wants." He assured her, and I nodded.

"Okay." She agreed. "Then we can meet in the living room, if you think you can be comfortable there."

I nodded again, my eyes fixed on the creamy white carpeting in the room. If I didn�t look at anyone, perhaps I could say what had to be said and get it over with. Then, as Angelo had pointed out, I wouldn�t have to wonder anymore. When Angelo stopped we stood just inside the large, airy room that made my other so uncomfortable. I halted too, and fixed my gaze on the rhythmic motion of the waves below us.

"Anne?" Jarod asked me gently. "What happened? Why did you leave? Where were you?"

"Jarod!" Sydney growled in a warning voice. "Let her do this in her own way."

I could feel Jarod�s simmering resistance to that order. Susan seated herself, hoping that I would follow, and Angelo stood stolidly by my side; a comforting presence.

"I�m sorry I worried you." I signed, still staring at the water. "I�m not used always in control of my actions."

Varying degrees of relief flowed from all three members of my audience. They had all suspected that I might be insane to the point that I wouldn�t be able to communicate coherently.

"What do you mean?" Susan asked softly, as if a normal tone would send me running.

"I mean it�s crowded in my head." I glanced briefly in her direction, hoping she understood. "And when I realized----"

I paused, swallowing hard and nerving myself to make the next revelation.

"I�m pregnant." I signed, my expression stony and my eyes fixed on the ocean. "Lyle got what he wanted after all."

I fought with the other, who wanted to drop to her crouch and rock. We compromised by hugging ourself tightly around the waist and swaying from side to side. I refused to look when Jarod rose from his seat and approached me, finding a spot off to one side to focus on. His hands were gentle on either side of my face as he turned it to face him. I sensed Sydney stopping Susan when she would have intervened.

"He didn�t." Jarod contradicted me with infinite tenderness. "He wanted to destroy you and he�s failed. He wanted me to lose you, but I haven�t---have I?"

His voice became plaintive on the last two words, his worry leeching through. I finally allowed myself to look at him; to see him.

"But I�m----. He---"

"I don�t care." Jarod assured me, tears filling his eyes but not falling. "We�ll do whatever you want to about it. All I care is that you�re safe. He�ll never hurt you again. I just wish it hadn�t taken me so long---"

His voice caught in his throat and the tears spilled over.

"Annie, I�m so sorry! I�m sorry I didn�t get here earlier; save you from him right away. Can you ever forgive me?"

A frown of confusion pulled my brows together.

"If you had come earlier he would have hurt you too---probably killed you." I signed finally, trying hard to remember how to communicate my thoughts in a sensible fashion. "And you were hurt too, in a coma for a while. There wasn�t anything you could have done."

"I should have been here." He insisted stubbornly.

Now it was my turn to turn his face to mine, although I had to release it for my response.

"There is nothing to forgive, Jarod." I told him, willing him to understand and believe. "But if you need to feel forgiven, then I do forgive you. I know you did everything you could as fast as you could."

The renewed hope on his face almost hurt.

"Then you don�t---hate me?" he whispered, obviously forcing the words through the lump in his throat.

"I love you." I signed simply. "But----"

I dodged his embrace and added that qualifier, steeling myself against the hurt in his expression.

"But I�m not the woman you knew." I continued, when he subsided, looking at me with confusion and pain. "I never really was and now it�s worse. I�m not sure who I am anymore and I don�t want you to feel obligated to me. I�m going to have the child---even though it�s his I can�t bring myself to kill it. It�s not the baby�s fault it�s father was a lunatic."

"Anne---." He started and his voice broke with emotion. "Anne, if you want to have this child it�s, fine with me. If you want to raise it, I�ll love it like I do Deirdre and the boys. If you need the next hundred years to recover from what he did to you, I�ll wait cheerfully. All I need to know is that you still love me. Nothing will change my love for you."

"Jarod, there isn�t just "Anne" involved here. There�s the part of us that survived Lyle, and the part that kept thinking and analyzing while the rest of us were hiding under our beds. There�s more than one person inside of me. You might not like them all---they won�t all love you like I do.

"Do you understand? It�s going to be a long time before I�m anything close to normal---if I ever am. I�m not even convinced that I can recover from all of this. Sometimes I just want to end it all�"

I patted Jarod�s arm reassuringly at his look of horror.

"They don�t agree with me." I assured him, knowing my expression was wry. "And I know one that never will. The point I�m trying to make is that this is going to be long, and hard, and you would do better to forget me and find someone worthier of you."

A short bark of harsh laughter erupted from Jarod.

"Worthier?" He exclaimed in disbelief. "Anne, you know I�m not a paragon of virtue. If anyone should be looking for someone "worthier" it should be you. There isn�t anything you could tell me that would make me any less willing to wait for you, to be here for you.

"Sweetheart, I don�t care if there�s an entire legion in your head, I�ll love them all." He went on earnestly. "But without you, I have nothing left to fight for. You changed my life; made me a better person; I won�t leave unless you ask me to."

The Anne part of us took a step closer to him before the others realized it. Tears filled our eyes as we allowed her to take that second step and then the third. When Jarod�s arms closed gently around us, obviously trying not to press on our injuries, the tears began to fall, wetting his shirt. We didn�t even sense the others leaving as harsh sobs wracked our too-thin body. Our universe began and ended in that loving embrace, in his soothing murmurs and assurances of everlasting love.

I stood on our balcony, soaking in the warm summer sunshine, and watched the tiny forms of my children as they shrieked their way down to the beach. Tim was taking them to explore the tide pools left behind when the tide had gone out. Little Larissa stumbled and fell, I could hear her lusty wails drifting up to where I watched, but Deirdre, very much the bossy older sister, brushed off her knee and told her to quit crying, she was fine. Then, with her father�s gentleness, she helped her younger sister to her feet and held her hand as they picked their way down to the beach together.

It was funny, I reflected, how Deirdre, with her bright red hair, seemed to be the odd child out, and not our Larissa. Oddly enough, the birth of Larissa, Lyle�s final legacy, just weeks before the triplets� first birthday, seemed to be the turning point for me. I named her Larissa, because I had read somewhere that it means happy. Somehow I knew that the time for sorrow had past and that her birth triggered our season of joy. I was proven right as the days went on.

Deirdre, who had just barely begun to speak before Lara�s birth, snuck into the nursery room we�d constructed at every opportunity. She�d adopted Larissa as her baby almost from the first time her tiny hand felt the fluttery kicks through my belly. Brennan and Brone ignored her, but they ignored Deirdre too. As identical twins they seemed to have a closeness that outsiders could only marvel at. They were probably closer to their Uncle Sydney than anyone else, and he doted on them.

Larissa, though, and Deirdre, are a team. She�s a tiny bundle of energy, like a hummingbird, darting brightly from one place to the next and enchanting everyone who sees her. Deirdre is far more serious and stubborn, and she steadies Lara while Lara softens her. The two of them adore their Aunt Hannah. (That�s what I call Parker. I�ll explain later.) Thank God marriage and motherhood has mellowed her or I�d probably have to lock the girls up! They imitate her faithfully.

Larissa knows that Jarod isn�t her daddy the same way he�s Brennan, Brone and Deirdre�s daddy, because we�ve explained a little to her about Lyle. Not the horrors----my children are smart, but no child deserves to be so brutally disillusioned. Maybe someday when she�s older we�ll have a talk, but maybe we won�t.

She has some of Lyle�s qualities, his charm, his sculpted good looks are reproduced in feminine form on her face, and she is as intense and emotional as he ever was. But she is also sweet and loving and so generous that I know some of Jarod�s spirit is part her makeup too, regardless of her parentage. And she loves Jarod. She doesn�t care how he became her daddy, he�s perfect in her eyes.

She�s perfect in his eyes too. She and Deirdre are so spoiled by him that I worry about their future husbands. They�ll never find a man to adore them the way he does. Sometimes I have to scold Jarod for a tendency to indulge their infrequent tantrums. He�s pretty hopeless about disciplining either of our girls, although he can be brought to the point of scolding the boys now and again. I�m the disciplinarian in this family. Fortunately, I have the prior knowledge of childrearing to allow me to guide our strong willed, frightfully clever little angels. If it was left to Jarod, we�d be turning loose 4 monsters on the world.

I sense him enter our apartment, and wonder what his excuse for sneaking away from the office is today. I pretend to still be engrossed in the view from our balcony; Brennan and Brone, dark heads together as they examine some puzzle the sea has washed up for them; Deirdre and Larissa, Deirdre explaining earnestly just how to pick up---whatever it is. Probably a crab if I know my Lara. She�ll be planning to return it to the sea. She rescues every living thing she finds in danger, from jellyfish to orphaned rabbits

He pauses, watching me from the door. I can feel him willing me to turn, to welcome him with my smile. I fight it, after all, I really shouldn�t encourage him to play hooky, but I turn anyway and the smile puts itself on my lips. He�s so beautiful to me.

I drink in the sight of him, his face a little more lined than it was when I met him, a few white scars etched where only I can see them, and a hint of silver at his temples. He�s just as appealing now as he was the first time I saw him. More. His brown eyes sparkle with the joy of life, those little lines are mostly of laughter and delight, and he isn�t the only one in our relationship with scars, on the body or on the soul.

"Playing hooky again?" I ask, my voice laced with amusement as we glide together like to magnets of opposite polarity.

"I finished early!" He protests, radiating innocence. I laugh, knowing that there�s no way he could finish early. There�s enough work in the Foundation for ten Jarods.

"Okay," he admits, reaching for me. He frowns when I dance out of reach. "I delegated a few proposals that will undoubtedly find their way back to my desk tomorrow."

My fears of losing myself in him vanished years ago. Yes, he�s everything to me, but I�m everything to him and we balance each other nicely. What I lost of myself, when I finally surrendered to his love, was only what I wanted to lose anyway. I�m not the same woman I was when I met him, but the woman I am now is what I want to be, not what others tried to make me.

"Miss me?" He asks, an endearing hint of uncertainty in his voice pulling on my heartstrings like it always does.

I still marvel that he loves me so. Sometimes I think I�m going to drown in his chocolate eyes, get lost in his hot fudge voice.

"Always." My voice is low and husky with love, and joy, and just a hint of tears. I never knew it was possible to be this happy.

My feet move me closer to him. Teasing him is a concept that my mind has now lost. He still wins far too many arguments with his sad looks or irresistible kisses.

His arms open again, and this time I glide into them like I�m coming home.

I am home. I don�t leave the Foundation grounds often. I still have a hard time being around too many people, and I still battle certain reactions to various noises or sights. But I go with Jarod whenever he has to be gone for longer than a day or two. Where he is I am home. All I need is the strength of his arms around me and the warmth of his love and approval.

He says the same is true of him. That he never felt true peace until the day I finally turned to him, finally able to put the past behind me. When he�s troubled over a decision or brooding over another injustice he doesn�t know how to heal, he turns to me. When he�s happy, or excited, or discovers a new wonder in the world around us, he turns to me. He wants me to share those moments, he craves the peace of mind he gets from my unconditional love.

He says he knows that I know him better than anyone else and he�s more right than he knows. I know he suspects the enhanced mental gifts that I have, gifts that our children share, but I�ve never spoken of them, and I keep the children quiet about them too. We�ve no need to draw more attention to ourselves. But the gift means that I do know him, sometimes better than he knows himself. I know his nightmares, rare now, but dreadful when they happen. I know his fears. I know the scars that the Centre left on his heart and soul.

And he knows mine. Being Jarod, he refused to accept Susan�s advice and watched the DSA�s of my months in Lyle�s hands. We almost lost him then. He was so angry, so lost, and he felt my pain because that�s what he does----he becomes whoever he wants to. He felt my pain better than I did, I think.

When he came to me, after he�d seen everything, just days after we�d discovered that I carried Larissa, he radiated rage like a bonfire radiates heat. I was afraid, and the other, who wasn�t yet integrated with me rose up, but then he looked at me, and grief overcame him, and I pushed her back down.

"How?" He asked simply, settling in beside me on the floor. As was typical in those days I was sitting with my back against a corner, although I had a needlepoint project in my hands and I wasn�t mouthing a rhyme.

"How do you come to terms with it?"

I knew exactly what he was asking, and my face lost all of its color in a moment. I thought he was asking how *he* could live with what Lyle had done to me. I thought, for one eternal instant, that I had become repulsive to him. But then I realized what he really wanted to know. He was afraid I wouldn�t want to live, even though Tim had already brought me through the worst of my suicidal impulses.

For the first time since the day I�d let Tim coerce me into facing life, I initiated contact with Jarod. Until then I could only bear Angelo�s touch, because he was too much like me to be viewed as a man, and dangerous. But at that moment Jarod, trembling with anger and fear and pain, ceased to be a man to fear too. He became someone I loved too much to hold away, and when my arms closed around him, he finally released a part of himself that he�d guarded since the Centre had kidnapped him.

We hadn�t actually exchanged marriage vows at that time, but I think that moment was when we truly became husband and wife. In reality, marriage is the commitment, not the words. We were both people who�d been broken by the ugly part of life and found salvation in the other. There�s no power on earth that can separate us. We�ve truly dedicated ourselves to each other "until death do us part".

I inhale the special scent of him, absorb the emotional signature of him, and everything else vanishes. In his arms I am whole and strong and fearless. Sometimes, as much as we love our children and care about our Foundation, we just have to escape. We leave Sally and Sam in charge and fly to our cabin in the Poconos or our little place in Jacksonville, North Carolina and it�s just us two.

"The kids on the beach?" He asks, with a significant look. I laugh, knowing what�s on his mind, wondering again at how our thoughts travel along similar lines.

"With Tim." I admit, smiling indulgently.

Tim�s recovery hasn�t matched mine, although my other insisted that Angelo integrate and Angelo insisted that she do the same. They�ve come closer, and sometimes Tim can come out for hours at a time, but they haven�t fully meshed yet. I know the day is coming, though, and we continue to support each other.

Jarod swings me into his arms, ignoring my protests. His leg is almost as good as new, but I worry anyway. When I tell him someone could come he stops to blow on my neck. He knows I�m hopelessly ticklish when he does that and I can�t complain if I�m giggling. He claims he does it because he likes to hear me laugh, but I know he just does it so I can�t argue.

But after five years, I know a thing or two about him too. I retaliate, when he�s only halfway to our room, with my lips pressed against the pulse in his throat. It drives him crazy and he growls a warning for me to stop it if I don�t want to risk our children walking in on something they�re not old enough to know about. I find myself giggling again and I ignore the warning and step up the attack. He�s not the only one who doesn�t fight fair. I quit playing fair with him years ago.

Oddly enough, neither of us seem to mind the way the other cheats in an argument. Maybe if more couples fought the way we do there�d be a lot more happy marriages.

Not only does he prove himself able to withstand my most inventive attacks by carrying me all the way to our room, but he even has the presence of mind to lock the door behind us. I don�t bother to tell him that our precocious little darlings already know as much about the birds and the bees as they want to. Every one of them reads books on a junior high level, and they�ve never felt shy about asking mommy to explain anything they were curious about.

With their enhanced mental sensitivity they knew what we were doing behind closed doors long before they were old enough to talk. They don�t understand why we would want to spend a glorious summer day indoors alone, but they know when we�re occupied. They won�t even think about coming home until we finish playing our grown up games. If we seem to be inclined to take longer than they want to be out, they�ll just join the kids at the orphanage for dinner and Jarod will have to deal with some more teasing from Hannah�s husband Isaac at the next board meeting.

He and I work together with some of our more traumatized orphans. Yes, the Centre is now the Foundation for the Advancement of Mankind. The Tower and main complex, and all 27 sub-levels, house our research and treatment facilities. We research cures for diseases, mental illness and manmade disasters. Our ethical guidelines are far more rigid than any human or animal rights organization could ever hope for elsewhere. But we do more than research and cutting edge treatments.

One of the outlying buildings is the Catherine Jaimeson Orphanage, with almost 300 children from all over the world. Miss Parker, well, she isn�t Miss Parker anymore----of course I know her first name, I�m just too much her friend to ever use it. I call her Miss Hannigan, Hannah for short, because she and her husband run the orphanage with Sally and Sam Flemming. What can I say? I have a fondness for the musical "Annie".

Two years ago she became, Dear, and then, a year later, Mommy to an adorable boy and girl. Officially she is now Mrs. Isaac Feldstein, and she is amazing with the children. Her stern facade never seems to fool any of them, and I�ve seen her ruin a pair of silk slacks, just to get down to comfort one of her more frightened charges. Her kids come from around the world, and she�s always complaining because we can�t take in more.

The other out building is a greenhouse with a selection of botanical species to rival any in the world. Sydney spends most of his time there. We named it Jacob�s Eden.

Broots is in his element, supervising a cadre of computer geniuses in technological research that�s way over my head.

Hannah and Isaac have apartments here in the Foundation too, which they live in whenever they can be coaxed out of the orphanage. Jarod keeps saying he�s just going to have a house added onto one end, but Hannah tells him to mind his own business. They still argue every time they�re in the same room for more than 5 minutes.

I know he loves her, and she loves him. They�re old friends, with Angelo they form a trio bonded by the same childhood ogre, the Centre. I don�t grudge them their closeness and neither does Isaac. He�s got a few scars of his own, and he and I understand our spouses.

Angelo has his own apartments too. We�ve discussed the possibility that he might someday want to leave, but it seems unlikely. It�s enough that he comes and goes throughout the property freely. He still doesn�t speak much, but he�s able to express himself when he wants to. And he still has an uncanny ability to reach deep within others and go with them while they face their demons. He�s been as instrumental as Sydney or Susan in the recovery of some of our more damaged strays.

We don�t just take in children. We have a world renown Recovery Wing, which is in SL-25. Men, women, and children who�ve been traumatized in the countless ways that exist in this world often find their way here. We�ve seen some truly outstanding successes, beginning, I think, with my own. Susan oversees that aspect of the Foundation. Her Recovery Wing has formulated several new treatment theories that have begun to gain acceptance in other hospitals around the world.

Margaret and Charles were reunited months after the fall of the Centre, and they live with LJ in North Carolina. Charles helps Carrie Osbourne with her flight school and Margaret teaches a ground breaking program for gifted students. She got a lot of practice in it when she schooled Emily while they were on the run. LJ was her first student.

LJ initially stood for "Little Jarod", but Margaret insisted that the boy get a real name of his own. Since he�d already gotten used to LJ, he chose Lucas Jerome, and went on with the initials. He usually comes up to stay with us over the summer breaks, which gives Margaret and Charles some quality time together alone, something they really appreciate.

Jarod�s relationship with LJ is complicated. They�re close, but they often seem to be studying each other for similarities. LJ went through a period where he copied everything Jarod did, and then one where he methodically did everything the opposite of what Jarod had done. It seems now that they�ve been able to accept that regardless of their DNA, they are not the same person. I still count it as a minor miracle that the child is the loving and giving person that he is, given Raines involvement in his early life.

And finally, there�s Emily. Perhaps her wandering childhood hasn�t completely warped her, but she doesn�t hold still for more than 5 minutes at a time. Technically she�s got a suite in the Tower near ours, but in reality she spends more than 90% of the year on the road. She earns her living doing award winning film documentaries, but she�s also involved with a Human Rights group and an environmentalist group that keep her on the run. Sometimes I wonder if she�ll ever settle down, but she�s young yet.

"Penny for them." Jarod interrupts my reminiscing with a smile.

"Just thinking how lucky we are." I whisper, blinking back tears.

"No more tears, Annie." He growls softly in my ear, nipping the lobe playfully. "Didn�t I promise you that?"

"These are happy tears!" I protest halfheartedly as he pulls me closer.

"I think we could find something better to do than cry. Even if they are happy tears." He insists with a meaningful leer.

He wins far more than his share of arguments that way. I keep telling myself I�m going to get tough with him, but I never seem to be able to resist him when he insists that a Karma Sutra is a terrible thing to waste.

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