It took far too long for me to stop shaking and crying. I was almost ready to promise Raines anything, including my unborn children, if he'd just keep Lyle away from me. And it wasn’t the physical abuse that had terrified me; it was that final threat of rape that had opened the floodgates of a terror I couldn’t contain. I didn’t know why it frightened me so, and I didn’t want to know why, I just wanted to make sure Lyle never touched me again.

Finally, desperate to calm myself, I began reciting the Dojo Kun, rules of the dojo, over and over again. Those ten, commonsense rules for life did the trick. Of course I had to recite them for about ten minutes before I could even unwind my arms from my around my knees. Another few minutes and I was able to rise from the couch.

I focused on remembering my Sensei's face as I mechanically began dragging the furniture back into place. He had been a short, old, Japanese man with deep creases in his cheeks from years of smiling. and a no-nonsense personality. He had also been the first man in my life to treat me with unfailing, completely honest, respect.

He never let me give less than my best, always pushing me that little bit further than I thought I could go, but always in a gentle, supportive way. He'd never belittled or intimidated me, even though I knew that he had enough training to break me in half without even trying.

I carefully replaced every item of furniture exactly as it had been before my rearrangement, recreating at the same time, the early years of my karate training in my mind with dogged persistence. It was the only defense I had against the damage that Lyle had done to my courage---remembering how I'd built it up in the first place.

When the room was a perfect as I could make it I retreated to the bathroom and spent the better part of an hour under a shower with water so hot it left my skin lobster red. I finally emerged from the bathroom only to pull on the bulkiest and most unflattering of the garments I had to choose from and crawl into the large bed.

For remainder of that day and the morning of the next I remained in my bed, not daring to move from it except for brief forays to the small table to eat my meals. I spent the time finally coming to terms with the fact that I would never see friends or my children ever again. I had put that acceptance off, hoping that I wasn't really here but was in a hospital or mental institution somewhere. Later, of course, I was a lot more occupied with trying NOT to think---but coming up with far too many nightmare scenarios starring Lyle and Raines.

Now, I had time, the semblance of privacy, and it helped to take my mind off of Lyle's threats. I kept my mind on my children, their pain at my loss and all the things in their lives that I would now miss out on, during the days. I grieved, and said goodbye to them, and wrote them endless letters explaining why I’d vanished, in my head.

But at night my control was shattered and I relived each second of Lyle’s intimidation. I dreamed of him, of that particular threat and of other, more nebulous threats. Sometimes I knew Lyle was coming to hit me, or worse, and sometimes I simply knew that some shadowy, male figure was looming behind me, threatening me. Saying good bye to everything I'd ever known was easy in comparison to reliving those last few moments on the couch.

When I reached that point in my ruminations, I started working at carefully rebuilding my mask of detachment, aware that even with my best efforts the fear I tried to conceal shone out of hundreds of tiny cracks. Lyle had shattered the armor I’d constructed during my years of independence with the initial beating; retraining me in one brutal session to flinch and cringe whenever a man, specifically he, was near me.

During that second encounter, however, he'd threatened my very soul with filth. I knew that the only hope I had of surviving the upcoming days with my self-respect and integrity intact lay in shoring up the same instincts that had seen me through the years at the hands of an alcoholic father. I tried to remember my childhood, something that I’d avoided for more than 30 years, trying to reconstruct just how I’d defended myself then so I could do it again.

I had been young and helpless then. While I was no longer young, I was now just as helpless as I had been then---more, in fact. When I was a child I had to go to school and there were people who would know and care if my father went too far. Here I didn’t even exist. Raines and Lyle could do anything they wanted to me and nobody would ever know a thing. That thought only served to feed the monster of fear that I was trying to lock back away in my mind.

I changed into comfortable exercise clothing after lunch on that second day, my mental barriers as strong as I could make them, and started working on my physical strength. Once again I adapted my Katas around the space I had to work in, reasoning that the activity had been accepted in the tiny cell, so it would probably be all right now. I also worked out a supplementary routine of calisthenics, knowing that I had to be in the best physical condition possible to survive until I could somehow escape.

Finally, knowing that a strong mind was as important as a strong body, I planned out a schedule of mental exercises to stretch and strengthen my mind. I didn't dare write anything down on the pads to help my memory, so I began the routine with remembering as much as I could of a chapter in the Bible or a favorite book. Then I moved to songs, deciding that I would have to remember two songs, to the best of my ability, from start to finish. Each day, I would add two songs, but without dropping the ones before.

An added benefit to remembering songs was that I couldn't possibly sing the wrong notes without any voice, even though I had resolved to do everything else as though I could make sounds. And at the end of my mental calisthenics I would do a series of math problems, moving the difficulty level up until I reached the point where I had to resort to paper to keep track of the figures. I hoped that these plans would keep me stable during the mind numbing dullness that I faced every day, locked in a empty room with absolutely nothing to stimulate my mind but the fear that Lyle was returning for me.

Shortly after lunch on the third day a large, ape-like woman arrived right after breakfast and indicated that I was to follow her to the Centre gym. She waited impatiently while I changed into a fresh set of exercise clothes and pulled a loose T-shirt from the man's wardrobe over them. My hard won peace was severely shaken when I followed her into the hallway and Lyle detached himself from the wall beside the door.

Instantly my heart began to race and my breathing quickened. Lyle didn't miss the signs of panic, even though I managed, barely, to keep my face still.

"Hello, Eve." He purred ominously. "I'm so happy I could join you today, I've missed your smiling face. After our---stimulating---conversation a few days ago I've just been biding my time until I could visit with you again. Have you been a good girl?"

Nausea churned my stomach even as self-loathing for being afraid of just the sight of the man rose up and closed off my throat.

’Don't just cower there, girl! Stand up, show some gumption!’ My alter ego suggested acidly.

’Oh, no you don't!’ I answered back firmly, although the admonition had at least helped me to start breathing again. ’We don't want his attention, remember? We want him to go away.’

’Then you'd better stop being afraid of him because he's loving every moment.’

My alter ego got in the last word, but I didn’t notice as my terror redoubled when Lyle moved closer to me, enjoying my abortive flinch and the way I pressed back against the door in a futile attempt to avoid his touch.

"You know," he continued insinuatingly, relishing my all too obvious dread. He pried me away from the door, and slid his arm over my shoulders. His self-satisfied smile deepened when I winced at the pressure he placed on my still-fresh bruises, and pulled me firmly against his side. "I'm hoping we can get to know each other much better."

’He won't do anything more than touch you.’ I told myself desperately as he propelled me down the hallway after the impassive guard. She ignored everything, leading us relentlessly into the bowels of the Centre.

’They want Jarod's child, not Lyle's.’ I tried to believe that, ruthlessly suppressing all thoughts of various birth control methods and clinging to the belief that Lyle was only trying to intimidate me. I also resolutely ignored the fact that he had succeeded far to well.

This set the tone for the next few months. Lyle showed up every weekday after lunch with the she-ape in tow, to escort me to my daily exercise. He stayed and watched, delighting in the clumsiness his observation provoked. He never passed up a chance to touch me, often in ways that nothing short of obscene.

I put on muscle, but no fat; no padding. I was pale and drawn, I knew that much from the mirror in my bathroom, and I had permanent dark circles under my eyes. Even after the black eye Lyle had given me on our first encounter healed up I still looked like the victim of a mugging because of those circles.

I barely slept, waking up frequently with the conviction that Lyle had invaded my room. My nerves were shot, my self-confidence non-existent, and I had lost my will to live, much less escape. It didn’t help in the least that, while Lyle never crossed the boundary with his sexual overtures, he managed to find reasons to "discipline" me on a regular basis. Every time the bruises started to fade on my fair skin he’d find an excuse to give me more.

I actually felt relief when they finally caught Jarod.

"We've got him!" Lyle burst into the room suddenly, causing me to freeze in the act of adjusting one of the couch pillows.

For one, endlessly long moment, his words failed to penetrate my conviction he'd come to beat me yet again---or worse. My relief was so great when I realized that I hadn't transgressed in some trivial way and triggered another 'session', that I had to sit down on the couch before my knees gave out. The pillow I'd been fiddling with remained clutched in my hands like a shield as I looked up at Lyle's excited face, trying to understand his words through the fog of anxiety his presence generated in my mind.

’Wow! That man is drop dead gorgeous when he's excited like that. He almost looks like a boy going to his first prom!’ My other self noted irreverently. She’d remained untouched by the constant fear that had worn me down. ’He'd have his pick of women if he wanted to.

’Not for long.’ I grumbled back. ’He'd end up killing them sooner or later.’

"Go take a bath and pretty yourself up." He continued with a callousness that managed to amaze me, even after all I'd learned about his ability to be cruel. "Jarod will be here within the hour. Wear the blue silk nightgown."

He leered but it almost seemed like an afterthought. His desire to exact revenge on Jarod took precedent over his more casual pleasure in torturing me. I was almost ashamed to realize I was glad that someone else would be the focus of Lyle's attentions for a while, but the shame didn’t dent my relief. I honestly don’t know how much more of Lyle’s undivided attention I could have taken.

"Well, don't just sit there, girl! Move it!" Lyle snapped when I failed to move.

I looked at him blankly, trying to remember what he wanted. The rising irritation in his face triggered the fear he'd so carefully instilled in me, and any hope that still remained of me remembering his original instructions vanished. His grip on my arm, hauling me to my feet, was so tight his fingertips went white, guaranteeing that another set of bruises would soon join the fading remains of my others.

"Lyle, don't damage the merchandise. She's still colorful enough to arouse his protective instincts." Raines wheezy voice stopped Lyle in mid-swing.

The rage and promise of retribution that flared in his eyes frightened me further. When Lyle released my arm I once again sagged onto the couch, my legs too shaky to hold me up. I have no doubt that I was truly a sad sight as I huddled nervously looking up at the two men.

Raines seemed oblivious to Lyle's unfulfilled rage, but I strongly suspected that he'd noted it and was pleased. I was sure that he knew that Lyle would eventually find a way to take that frustration out on me and the he was looking forward to it.

"Don't be concerned by the state Jarod is in when he arrives." Raines told me casually. "The effects won't be permanent. Show more sense than he did, Eve, and cooperate willingly. Neither of you have a choice. In the end the Centre always wins."

I looked at him vacantly; unable to absorb what he said with Lyle radiating anger right next to me.

"Remember, girl, this can be pleasant, or not." Raines added with unbreakable logic, finally bringing home to me what was being discussed.

They'd captured Jarod! He was on his way here, now! Raines wanted---

I swallowed against the rising nausea, my hand coming up to cover my mouth.

’Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.’ I told myself firmly, reciting the basic first aid I'd learned many years before.

Finally, finding a reserve of strength and courage that I hadn't realized had survived Lyle's attentions, I raised my chin and shook my head slowly. The effect of my resistance was undoubtedly negated when I immediately dropped my eyes and wrapped my arms protectively around myself, but I felt somewhat better for having managed even that minor act of defiance.

"Very well, girl." Raines accepted my decision with bone chilling calm. "In that case we'll just have to test one of our new concoctions on Jarod. I understand the initial tests have been quite promising and that the women aren't-----too badly damaged." He chuckled, a papery sound, as he made his way back to the door, the squeak of his oxygen tank drowning out my gasp of dismay.

The two men were gone and I sat on the sofa in a daze, unwittingly compounding my minor act of rebellion by completely forgetting Lyle's instructions.

’Could they?’ The question pounded at my brain.

In the "real" world, my world, aphrodisiacs were mythical, as unattainable as the fountain of youth. Once again I found myself wondering, no, wishing, I really was in a coma in a hospital somewhere. I'd even be happy to wake up in a padded cell pumped full of mind-altering drugs or strapped down for electroshock therapy.

’Where the hell are the cooperative scriptwriters when you need them?’ I thought with sudden fury. ’They can't do this on prime time TV!’

’So they'll change the time slot again. That is, if you're even in the script. We all know there's plenty that Raines and Lyle do that the audience never gets to see.’

That logical part of me was really getting on my nerves.

Then she chose that moment to remind me of the way I'd drooled over Jarod every Saturday night. Before my world changed I had lusted after him in the serene confidence that he didn't really exist. Now, the thought of seeing him in person had me shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, and not just because of the obscenity Raines wanted to orchestrate. "Eve?" Johnson poked his head around the door to my quarters. "I've got to talk to you."

"You aren't supposed to be here." I wrote on my pad, my hand remarkably steady considering the turmoil that filled me.

"They've got Jarod." He ignored the pad with unaccustomed determination.

"I know." I mouthed, my jaw setting tightly as I willed down the tears pricking at my eyes. I'd learned early in life that tears didn't help any and were better shed in complete privacy.

"You told them you wouldn't cooperate." He guessed, despair in his voice.

"I can't." I wrote simply.

"They have a drug."

"I know." I mouthed again, pinching the bridge of my nose to force back the still threatening tears.

"Eve, I've seen what the men do once they've been affected. If--if you don't try to fight him you'll be okay, but if you resist---if he gets agitated----" his voice dropped to an agonized whisper. "Three women died in the initial trials and two have been left in critical condition since then. It increases aggressiveness. Please don't make him hurt you."

I had a burning desire to hurt Johnson, all my fury channeling towards him in an instant.

’Damn all men for their idiot assumption that women get hit because they do something to cause it!’ I screamed inwardly, albeit somewhat unfairly.

"I don't make anyone hurt me!" I underscored the word "make" twice for emphasis.

It had taken me years to realize that and I wasn't letting anyone, no matter how well intentioned, tell me otherwise. Johnson looked startled at the vehemence of my reply and the tears sparkling in my eyes. Then he had the grace to look faintly guilty as what he'd said actually penetrated his dense little mind.

"Then consider this," he argued quickly. "You know stuff about this place---you know about Jarod too, don't you?"

I nodded warily, suspecting where he was going with this, and not liking it.

"You know that it would tear him apart to hurt you, even if he wasn't in control of himself at the time. Be flexible, at least, for Jarod's sake if not for your own. Damn it, Eve! If they give him the drug you'lL be the only one with a choice! He won't have any control!" Johnson finished in a near bellow.

"I don't want that choice! I just want to go home!" I shouted back silently, disregarding my muteness, taking comfort in the familiar play of muscles that had once formed sounds and words.

"I-" he looked down at the floor in self-disgust, his brief flare of anger extinguished. "I should be trying to take you away from this place instead of begging you to go along with this travesty, but I'm a realist. I know that we'd never make it as far as the lobby. I'd probably be killed and you'd just be drugged and returned to your room. They might even try to brainwash you. They can do unbelievable things in their re-education wing. Raines won't let you go, he's positive that any child you and Jarod create will be a Pretender, possibly with even greater ability than Jarod."

"I know there's nothing you can really do." I wrote, giving him the absolution I had finally realized he'd come for. My anger was spent too, for the moment at least. "I don't want to see you shot, either. You've always been nice to me. I can't promise I'll cooperate. I don't honestly know of a rational woman who could, but I'll think about what you’ve said. You're right, I don't want to make Jarod do anything he'd hate himself for. He's had enough pain.

"You'd better go." I urged Johnson then. "Raines won't be happy if he finds out you've been here without authorization."

After he left, though, I found myself missing his presence. The silence pressed in on me like sand through a funnel. Time had slowed to a crawl with nothing to distract my morbid thoughts. After long minutes spent wandering around, my mind whirling so quickly with so many thoughts that none of them stayed long enough to penetrate, I found myself sitting in the easy chair of the living room clutching the pillow I'd dropped earlier to my chest. I stared blankly at the door, and carried on a heated internal argument.

’You have to get out!’

’No kidding! And just how do you plan to do that, Einstein?

’Wait behind the door and hit Lyle over the head?’

’It would be fun, at least until he killed us, but hardly effective. He won't bring Jarod by himself, that’s what they have all their thugs from Rent-a-Goon for.’

’Well, think of something!’

’Hah! Under these conditions? You're lucky I haven't gone catatonic. No, we're stuck, girlfriend----I certainly don't see a way out. Maybe Jarod can think of something?’

I started violently when the door to my quarters was flung open to facilitate the precipitous entrance of a thoroughly confused Jarod. He stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. Twice he tried and failed to stand before he surrendered and stayed there, shaking his head and blinking his eyes in unnatural disorientation. He'd obviously been drugged by something pretty powerful and it hadn't worn off yet.

"Now play nice, children." Lyle got in one last painful taunt before slamming the door with terrifying finality.

I clutched the throw pillow clutched tighter, and stared apprehensively at Jarod. He blinked furiously and squinted in a futile effort to focus. Then he tried simply to sit up, but his coordination wouldn't allow even that. He seemed to have his gross motor skills, but his fine motor control was shot. Finally he gave a heartrending groan and curled up on the floor in a nearly fetal position, releasing me from my paralysis.

It didn't matter that he was almost a full foot taller than me and even in his diminished capacity oozed enough masculine power to make me want to hide in my closet. It didn't even matter that I was so scared right then that my mouth ached with dryness. Jarod was hurting, even if only in his mind, and I was, (and still am), a sucker for anything in pain.

’Someday,’ I promised myself sternly, Someday I am going to get over this obsession with rescuing every injured stray I run across.’

"Who'r you?" He demanded batting uselessly at the hand I'd laid on his shoulder and refusing to open his tightly shut eyes.

I gently squeezed the shoulder, startling him into opening and once again attempting to focus his dazed brown eyes. He looked as dazed and lost as a dog that had just been dumped by the side of the road by his master, deepening my instinctively protective reaction.

One eye showed indications of a shiner that would rival the Lyle had given me. Finally he was able to focus on me and his brow furrowed in an effort to think.

"Ya' m' nurse? M' door prize?" He laughed shortly at his witticism.

I firmly restrained the urge to smack him. This wasn't a good time to bring out any sexist remarks!

’He's just as upset as you are, and he obviously has no idea what's going on yet. Give him a break---he's scared too.’ I told myself sensibly.

Yeah, well he'd just better watch it anyway. I'm not in the mood!’ My alter ego insisted stubbornly.

’He's bigger than we are.’ I reminded her, with the caution that Lyle's attentions had resurrected from my childhood memories.

It was obvious, by his slurred speech and inability to even sit up, that he wasn't capable of harming a fly at the moment. Reassured, I knelt in front of him, grasping his chin with one hand, carefully avoiding an angry red scrape along one side of his jaw. I guessed he'd put up a hell of a fight before they'd drugged him. I stabilized his rolling head and pointed at myself, miming speech but of course, unable to make a sound.

"Deaf?" Jarod questioned fuzzily. I understood him anyway.

"No." I shook my head, pointing to the scar on my neck. I wasn't sure if he could focus well enough to see it, but he obviously understood the implication.

"Tha's cold." Jarod commiserated drunkenly. "Ev'n fr' Raines."

I tugged on his arm, recapturing his attention, and then mimed sleeping and pointed towards the bedroom.

"S'rry. Can' walk." He mumbled.

I sidled around to Jarod's left side, pulled his arm over my shoulders, and slid my right arm around his waist. I blessed my morning workouts for building my muscle tone as I strained to steady Jarod's uncooperative body. We were both trembling with the strain by the time we reached the bed. Jarod sank backwards onto it with a grateful sigh. I knelt and pulled off his shoes and socks and then debated with myself as to whether or not I should try to remove the rest of his outer clothing.

I have a strong sense of modesty and didn't want to invade his personal privacy. On the other hand, he'd get a lousy night of rest if I left him in jeans.

’Besides,’ I reasoned practically, ’He grew up in the Centre. How much of a need for privacy can he have left?’

’Probably more than you do now.’ My alter ego pointed out, being contrary as always. ’He's going to value what he had on the outside even more now that he's back.’

’Oh, shut up!’ I told myself tiredly. ’Privacy or not, we can't leave him like this---he'd just wake up again in a few hours. You've seen men before---hell, you raised a son! Just do what needs to be done and get it over with.’

Jarod roused for a moment when I began to undo his belt buckle but he dropped his head back down almost immediately with a sigh. With his half-hearted, mostly sleeping, help I was able to strip him to his underwear. He protested when I pulled his long legs up onto the mattress.

"Doan' wanna, Syd..." he whispered drowsily, his eyes already closed.

I covered him by simply pulling the far edge of the bedspread over, leaving him sandwiched in the fold it created. His clothing I draped neatly over the vanity chair in the bathroom, even though the clothes in the closet and chest of drawers were undoubtedly for him. I knew that if I were in his shoes I wouldn't want to wear what the Centre provided for me until I had no other choice.

I turned out the lamp by his head and grabbed the spare quilt, kept on the rack at the foot of the bed, on my way out to the couch. A very tiny voice in my head wondered if I was going to get into more trouble for sleeping on the couch instead of the bed. I ignored it, though; my courage having been somewhat restored by the simple act of helping someone else. It wasn't logical, but helping Jarod made me feel less helpless. I didn't know what woke me later, until the soft cry of distress was repeated.

’Oh yeah,’ I thought groggily, ’Jarod has nightmares.’

Well, I had nightmares too, especially since the advent of Lyle in my life, so I could empathize. I hadn't even consciously decided to try to soothe him before I found myself on my feet, stumbling tiredly into the bedroom.

Jarod had rolled to the center of the bed, leaving plenty of space for me to sit down. The motion of my weight settling onto the bed made him murmur briefly and I wondered if the nightmare was over already. No, just moments later he began moaning and shaking his head from side to side.

I debated whether or not to touch him. I didn't know how he'd react to contact in the middle of a nightmare and I didn't want to get hit if it startled him. With Lyle on hand to knock me around I really didn't see the need to get Jarod started too. I had to risk it, though, without a voice my touch was the only tool I had to use to comfort him.

I smoothed the long black bangs back from his forehead, automatically using motions I'd perfected while soothing my children through their own nightmares and illnesses. I made soft shushing noises between my teeth, and stroked the unruly strands back from his face with slow, rhythmic movements. Jarod tensed suddenly, making my heart pound with anxiety. Had he awakened? I really didn't want to be alone with him in a dark bedroom if he was fully conscious. My hand froze in mid-caress until he relaxed with a long sigh and began taking slow, deep breaths.

I resumed the slow brushes through his hair, going slower and making my touch lighter with each pass. After a few moments I stilled the hand, resting it lightly on his shoulder in case he roused. When his peaceful breathing continued I cautiously shifted my position, preparing to return to the couch. I was in process of standing up when Jarod abruptly grabbed my retreating hand in a firm grip, preventing my departure but not hurting me.

"Don't go, please." His deep voice startled me almost as much as his sudden move had.

My heart was racing and I knew he could feel me tremble as I tried to calm my automatic reaction of panic. I wasn't pulling against his hold, but every muscle in my body was tense, ready to flee the moment he relaxed his grip.

"I know you don't know me, and I don't know what part you play in whatever sick scheme Raines has up his sleeve at the moment, but I don't want to be alone right now. Would you just stay here and keep me company until I can face being a prisoner of the Centre again? I need a friend right now, even if it's just an illusion."

His voice was carefully void of any distress or pleading, but I felt his anguish as though it were my own and my tense muscles released, just a fraction, as I considered his request. I suppose, in a way, his pain was mine, I knew we were both in the same boat even if he didn't.

And I didn't want to be alone either. I knew that if I returned to the couch I might sleep, but I would doubtlessly have a nightmare before morning. I wasn't sure if I had the courage, though, to stay so close to a man who was really a stranger to me, no matter how much I knew about him. Jarod sensed my indecision.

"I know you're basically a kind person, or you'd have never come in here in the first place. And I know I scared you when I grabbed you---I'm sorry about that. I don't think you want to be alone right now either. I promise, all I want is the solace of another human presence."

I knew it had been hard for him to add that plea to his original request. Jarod gave help, he didn't ask for it. What really decided me, though, was when he loosened his grip on my wrist, moving his hand to gently hold mine. The compassion and understanding that had let him know I couldn't stand restraint, no matter how gentle, let me know that I could trust him to respect my boundaries. I wanted companionship as much as he did, and had a greater need for comfort, because I knew what the "sick scheme" was. I gave his hand a quick squeeze to show my assent, and before I could have second thoughts, I shifted my weight onto the bed and leaned my back against the headboard.

"No need to be so uncomfortable." He chuckled softly. "Lay down, relax."

He tugged lightly on my hand, still comfortably wrapped in his, urging, but not forcing, me to lie down. I astonished myself by complying with his request, wondering what on earth had gotten into me.

He sighed with satisfaction and rolled over onto his side, wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling me snugly towards him until my back pressed against his chest. Shock and instinctive terror held me rigid for several heartbeats----heartbeats so hard that they shuddered violently through me.

"I won't hurt you." He whispered, holding almost as still as I could when I felt threatened.

My need to be unconstrained warred with an unexpected feeling of security created by his completely platonic embrace. As the moments dragged on and he made no other moves I finally started to relax. My pulse slowed to match the steady rhythm of his heart and my breathing became deeper and more regular. Eventually, thinking that he'd dozed off again, I squirmed into a slightly more comfortable position, gave a sigh of contentment and closed my eyes.

"That's better." He breathed sleepily into my hair. "Go back to sleep now."

’Right.’ I thought skeptically, tensing again, although not with the intensity of the first scare. ’I'm lying in the arms of a strange man but I'm going to go to sleep?’

However, the warmth of his body, the pulse of his heartbeat vibrating through my back, and the unanticipated feeling of security his touch brought, soon had me relaxing again. This time my eyes drifted shut, and I slipped gently back to sleep before I even realized I'd been seduced by unexpected peace in the room.

I lay completely still, when I first woke up, trying to figure out what was wrong. I recognized the bed and the room, no illusions that I wasn't at the Centre this time! Something was different, though. What?

First I realized that I'd slept peacefully for the remainder of the night. Not one nightmare had interrupted my rest. Then I registered the dead weight pressing against my back and remembered that I was sharing my bed with Jarod. I identified the weight as Jarod's arm.

I'd shifted around in my sleep until I'd managed to roll onto my stomach, my preferred sleeping position. Jarod seemed to have remained in the same position all night; on his side, facing me, with the one arm draped loosely over my middle.

Once again I tensed up as fear and recriminations rose in my mind. The room was slowly brightening as the diffuse lighting activated to simulate dawn, and in the light of that false dawn I suspected I'd made a terrible choice. I stretched my senses to their limit, trying to determine the alertness of my companion. He seemed to sleep on, but I wondered if he could possibly be oblivious to the pounding of my heart.

I turned my head, moving cautiously in case I was wrong in my suspicion that he was awake. Soft brown eyes inspected my face with alarming interest.

I flushed a bright red as embarrassment flooded me. Now I felt trapped by the heaviness of Jarod's arm and I jerked away from his loose embrace, literally rolling off the bed when he made no effort to resist my move.

"Sleep well?" His voice, as smooth and sinful as chocolate, with just a thread of laughter in it, caused my breathing to catch oddly as I peeked over the edge of the bed. Those eyes, just as enticing as his deep voice, held the tiniest glint of amusement, which did nothing to ease my discomfort.

I knew he'd noted everything, my pounding heart, my rapid breathing, and the tremor in the hand that raked tangled curls out of my eyes. He couldn't have known why I was so jittery; he still hadn't moved and obviously couldn't have threatened me. But sympathy radiated from his strong face, increasing my irrational mortification and making me suspect that he knew more about me than I wanted to share with anyone. I gave a jerky nod to indicate my satisfactory sleep, pulled myself up to my feet, and hurried to the dresser.

He sat up and stretched unselfconsciously, doing my blood pressure and my peace of mind no good, and watched while I rapidly grabbed fresh underclothes and snatched a simple jumper dress from the closet. I knew that I was being silly, that I might even hurt his feelings by my ridiculous overreaction to his presence, but with his eyes following my every move, his analytical mind weighing my every action, I felt more naked than a banana without its skin. I practically dove into the safety the bathroom offered, shutting the door decisively behind me. It didn't help my discomfort any when I had to open the door again an instant later to throw his clothes out to him.

I opted to shower, counting on the ripples in the glass of the shower door to protect my modesty if Jarod should enter while I bathed. I needed to have hot water pouring over me, washing away tension and soothing frayed nerves. Actually, I need a strong sedative, but a shower was the best I could do. I spent a long time in there, realizing that the one benefit the Centre offered was unlimited hot water.

’Come live in hell!’ My alter ego chimed up. Plenty of hot water for everyone!’

I made a mental note to see a psychiatrist if I ever got out of this place. I obviously needed help in getting that pesky personality out of my head.

When I emerged from the bathroom, cleaned and changed, the bed was neatly made. The quilt I'd left on the couch had been replaced on its stand, Jarod's clothes were gone from the floor, and the room was empty. I still felt raw and nervous, but I was trying to calm down. Jarod was about to have enough problems of his own without dealing with my nerves.

My efforts to relax were in vain; my heart lurched again painfully when I saw him sitting at the small table, five-o'clock shadow on his jaw and a purple bruise under one eye. He looked up at my uncertain entrance, and gave me an encouraging smile. Apparently somewhere along the way he'd decided I wasn't one of the enemy.

Then again, it would be pretty hard to consider me a threat when I jumped at every sound and movement.

He was picking at the unidentifiable mush in front of him. My usual breakfast had been duplicated, with slightly larger portions for Jarod. I almost managed a smile at the glum expression that accompanied his unhappy exploration of our meal.

"I see Raines has put us on his "guaranteed to make you wish you were dead" nutritional program." He offered suddenly with an expressive look at his plate. "I could really use a jelly donut right now." He muttered like a sulky little boy while I slid gingerly into the chair opposite him.

I smiled again, briefly, amused by his predicament and saw an answering smile on his face. There was a hint of self-congratulation in the grin he gave me, making me wonder if he was deliberately playing up his unhappiness to take my mind off of my unease. I dropped my eyes and my smile as anxiety overwhelmed me again.

Ignoring my food---I knew that I couldn't swallow even that mush the way my nerves had closed off my throat---I clutched my tea like a drowning swimmer clutched a lifejacket.

Once again I was subject to a searching scrutiny. How could one man have eyes that were so warm and inviting you wanted to sink into them and never come back out again and yet so penetrating, so perceptive, that you wanted to crawl under a rock while you still had secrets left to hide?

I knew the instant he picked up the marks from Lyle's last visit and my cheeks heated as I silently berated myself for grabbing a sleeveless dress. It didn't matter in the slightest that I knew it wasn’t my fault Lyle had beaten me, I felt the shame common to victims of abuse. My arms crept protectively around my middle, as if they could hold in the anguish welling up inside of me.

"Don't be embarrassed." Jarod advised quietly, his velvet voice bringing a measure of comfort, even if it didn't erase the pain.

I pulled my eyes up to meet his, silently begging him not to feel sorry for me. He seemed to understand, beginning a casual conversation as I forced my arms to unwind from my stomach and picked up the tea again.

"I'm Jarod." He introduced himself politely.

For some reason I was surprised that he didn't know that I knew exactly who he was. I nodded my head to indicate my understanding, sipping my tea to ease the dryness in my mouth.

He was being far kinder than I had expected, but he was still inspecting me, still trying to get into my head, and that increased my nervousness.

"And your name is?" He prompted gently. "You can sign it or write it down if you can't talk, as you indicated last night. At least, I think that's what you made me understand last night. It's all something of a blur now."

My teeth began to hurt, and the tea sloshed in the cup as my hand started to tremble. I realized then how tightly I was clenching my jaw.

I wasn't about to give him the name Raines had given me but I wasn't willing to risk the possible consequences of giving him my true name. Even though I didn't think Raines would send Lyle in to "discipline" me until after he'd achieved his objective, I wasn't sure. The coward in me wasn’t willing to take the chance.

I had no doubt that Raines would be enraged if I chose to ignore the name he'd given me. Not that I thought for a moment Raines really cared what I called myself. He'd just be angry that I'd ignored his wishes. So I sat there numbly and refused to acknowledge the question. Jarod was just going to have to live with "hey, you" for me.

"Okay," he murmured thoughtfully, once he realized I wasn’t going to cooperate. "You won't or can't give me your name. How about if I call you Jane, for Jane Doe?"

He laughed at my unconscious grimace of distaste. It wasn't the most imaginative choice he could have made.

"Yes, it does lack originality." He acknowledged, following my thoughts with uncanny accuracy. "How about Annie, then? You kind of have little orphan Annie eyes and your hair is red and curly."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow---I'd certainly never felt like a little orphan Annie before---but I accepted this choice with a resigned smile and a subtle nod. I wasn't too sure that picking a new name wouldn't anger Raines just as badly as giving out my own name would, but even I had limits I wouldn't be pushed past. There was no way I’d tell him to call me Eve.

"Now, is there any way you can tell me where you come from? Why you're here---with me?" He questioned, beginning to shovel food into his mouth and swallow without paying any attention to it.

I stared at him; feeling hypnotized by his vitality and confidence even as my own shaky calm faltered. How could I tell him where I was from? It would sound crazy! And I didn't think I had the nerve to tell him why I was here---besides, I strongly suspected that he knew, he just didn't want to believe it.

I looked away finally, avoiding his probing inspection and rubbing my hands up and down my upper arms nervously. Jarod's watchful gaze somehow frightened me more than Lyle at his worst. Lyle wasn't trying to know me, just to enjoy my pain. Jarod, though----Jarod wanted to understand, and that thought scared me half to death.

"While you're an improvement over the isolation of my original stay here at the Centre," Jarod began, amusement lacing his rich voice. "I must admit your conversational skills leave something to be desired."

I shot him a quick, hurt glance, tears pressing at the back of my eyes. If only I could talk!

"Hey, I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I didn't think before I opened my mouth. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Once again tears threatened, this time at the simple respect he gave me with that apology. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be treated like a fellow human being instead of a possession or a punching bag.

The surge of gratitude his words brought triggered my protective barriers, though. I couldn't depend on Jarod. He was a prisoner just like me, and I was deathly afraid of liking him. Friendship is a weakness to be exploited in the Centre, not a boon. I considered walking away, knowing that if I didn't put some distance between us I was going to start feeling far more than I should, given our situation.

I could have, should have, gone to the living room area and ignored him entirely, but the truth was that I was starved for human companionship. Even with the threat that Jarod posed to my peace of mind his company was still preferable to the loneliness of the preceding months. Once again I found my eyes drawn to him, and knew he saw the conflict and misery I felt.

Jarod left his chair and rounded the table to crouch in front of me. His long fingers lifted my chin, exposing the nearly invisible scar on my throat, stroking it once with a feather light touch before he turned his attention to livid bruises on my face and arms. If he hadn't known from my performance earlier that I didn't like being touched, he should have been clued in by my sudden, utter stillness. Once again I felt threatened, vulnerable, and exposed, even though nothing Jarod had done from the moment I'd met him was remotely menacing.

"Raines?" He asked gently.

I blinked back sudden tears.

’I am not going to cry in front of this man! I am not going to let him get under my skin!’ I told myself firmly.

’This was why he’s dangerous to us---he wants our trust, but we dodn't know how to give that. We don't want to know how to trust!’ My alter agreed firmly.

Relying on another person, much less a man, was simply too risky, too uncertain, to bear. But with his every word and gesture Jarod continued to offer me a security that I didn't, couldn't, believe in. He didn't seem to need my response, though, he just nodded his head and moved his attention to the yellow brown lines peeping from under the dress on my shoulders and the darker, purplish-red lines crossing over them.

"Why?" He asked me, his expressive eyes inviting me to release my defenses and share my troubles with him.

Wariness, learned the hard way, won out and I jerked away from him, following my earlier inclination and retreating to the sofa. What could I tell him anyway? That there was no reason, really, just that Lyle seemed to delight in my pain?

Jarod, rather than take offense as I'd half hoped he would, simply followed me with terrifying persistence.

"At least tell me what's on Raines' twisted mind this time." He crouched once again in front of me, but this time refrained from touching me, leaving his arms lying loosely on his knees.

It was as though he knew that he stood no chance of breaching my determined isolation as long as he threatened my personal space. He didn't seem to realize that my personal space wasn't the only thing I guarded. I protected my emotions from outsiders just a zealously. I buried my face in my hands, wishing he'd go away, and I wondered where my anger was---it used to help me when I felt threatened---but how could I be angry with Jarod? All he wanted was answers.

That thought shook me out of my self-indulgent fears. I stood, holding out my hand to stop Jarod when he would have started to follow me, and went into the bedroom. Beside the bed were the legal pad and pen that I faithfully carried with me as I moved from room to room in the Centre. I’d been too distracted this morning to remember them before I went out to join Jarod at the breakfast table.

I grabbed them from the night stand where I’d placed them the night before, and headed back to the outer room. The shaky wall guarding my heart trembled again at the look of relief that flared in Jarod's eyes when I reappeared at the door. He wasn't as strong or confident as he wanted me to believe. He wanted to forge a connection almost as much as I was determined to avoid one. Maybe he was as afraid of being alone as I was of being connected emotionally.

I sat down on the couch and began to write, forcing myself to ignore Jarod's closeness when he sat beside me and leaned lightly against me to read as I wrote.

"Raines is one sick puppy." I wrote, not really caring if he understood the euphemism.

"He doesn't believe you'll ever be of use to the Centre again."

"Well at least he got that right." Jarod muttered fiercely.

"So he wants his own baby pretender." I ignored Jarod's indrawn breath and the fine tremors that wracked my body and continued doggedly.

My cheeks felt so hot that I was surprised my hair hadn't caught on fire, but I was going to finish this!

"He had a scientist named Walsh working on some sort of genetically engineered human---and apparently also on a way to accelerate the growth of the baby. But Walsh's experiment was altered when something exploded on SL-19, from another project. I don't belong here---"

"None of us do." Jarod muttered again softly.

"No, I don't belong in this reality. Where I was----you, Raines, the Centre--- it was all a TV show. I got dragged here by the accident."

"You mean you're from a parallel world?"

"I guess. That or I'm completely nuts and this is all a figment of my shattered mind." I gave him the most honest answer I had. "I really wish it was a figment of an insane mind." I added with brutal honesty.

"Theoretically parallel worlds could exist, like ours, but different in small ways." Jarod reflected out loud. "But I don't think that it's very likely that a simple explosion would tear the boundaries between realities."

"There was a storm on my world. I think that lightning hit the transformer right by my room. I think I remember an explosion."

"So both sides of the reality boundary were stressed. It's possible." Jarod admitted slowly.

’Practically anything is possible.’ My annoying persona chimed in spitefully. ’Especially in TV land.’

"Whatever. I woke up here, in the Centre. I think I was in a coma or something for a long time, because Raines had my vocal chords cut soon after my arrival, but the scar was completely healed before Dr. Johnson started taking care of me."

"Dr. Johnson?"

"He works here too. I got pneumonia before I ever woke up. I was really thin and weak when I finally did wake up. Everyone was surprised that I was an intelligent, functioning adult. I was surprised to see Raines." I finished with a masterly understatement.

I watched Jarod digest the information, searching his expression for the slightest hint of skepticism, but he seemed remarkably willing to believe.

"Then," he concluded slowly, "For all intents and purposes you don't exist."

"BINGO" I printed, my lips twisted in a bitter smile. "I'm not even sure who I am anymore. He told me my blood type matches yours!" The lump in my throat grew a little larger with that memory.

Frankly, with the emotional turmoil I had experienced since waking up this morning, I was surprised I could still breathe!

"I take it you weren't AB negative?"

"O positive."

"So Dr. Frankenstein has created his version of the perfect bride." A small frown furrowed his brows, I could finally see that the concept was making Jarod as queasy as it made me.

"But just what makes him think we'll cooperate? No offense, but I feel no burning desire to be fruitful and multiply."

’Maybe I'd be offended if I was as young as I look right now.’ I thought grimly. But the fact of the matter is that I'm relieved you share my sentiments on that point!’

"Raines and Johnson both told me that they have a drug that will make you----cooperative." I wrote simply. I didn't bother to add anything about the violent side effects that had been hinted at.

"He would." Jarod sighed, a tired, defeated sound.

I laid my hand over his, drawn to comfort him against my better inclinations. He didn't seem to notice it; instead he jumped out of his chair and began pacing as his agitation grew.

"No---there has to be an alternative---" a sick look of utter desperation lurked in the back of his eyes.

I wondered if he saw the reflection of that agony in my troubled face. I knew that he'd rather die than have a child of his in the hands of the Centre. Unfortunately, I was convinced that Raines wasn't about to give either of us that particular option. Jarod beat a fist into his open palm as he paced the length of the room, mumbling words and phrases to himself as he wracked his brains for a solution. The lines of a Dr. Who episode leaped to the front of my mind.

"He talks to himself sometimes because he's the only one who understands what he's talking about."

Suddenly he seemed to realize that his agitation would only serve to amuse Raines because he stopped his pacing. He stood where he was, eyes closed, hands fisted, and a scowl of determination lining his face. He trembled with the effort of harnessing his violent emotions, but seemed to accomplish that restraint in only moments.

A shudder coursed through his entire body and then he relaxed, starting with his face and moving down until even his hands had unclenched. I was impressed, to say the least.

"Don't worry." He told me confidently, looking at me through criminally thick eyelashes, his head tilted in a position that denoted determination. "I'll get us out of here, somehow."

I smiled unconvincingly and his confident mask dropped away into a wry smile, silently acknowledging the validity of my reservations.

’God, I like honesty in a man!’ I admitted regretfully, unwillingly drawn to his willingness to admit he wasn't infallible. ’Why couldn't I have found someone like him in my other life?’

’Because he's the product of cooperative scriptwriters.’ the perverse imp in the back of my mind whispered.

My heart dropped sickeningly as I heard the door click, only then realizing I'd been listening for that sound since I'd exited the bedroom. I felt the blood drain from my face again and wondered absently if I was going to faint.

Jarod grasped my icy hand, somehow transferring his strength to me through that touch, and drew me up from the chair to stand by his side, but with his body interposed between me and the three men who were advancing on us.

"Hello, children!" Lyle began cheerfully, his perfectly sculpted face aglow with malicious curiosity. "Did you get acquainted last night?"

I wanted to close my eyes to block out the faintly taunting grin that creased his face but it was impossible to tear my eyes from the duel of wills taking place between Lyle and Jarod. Both men were tall and darkly attractive, but one radiated such evil and the other such decency.

’The devil truly is beautiful,’ I thought, numb now with an emotional overload. ’How can he look so clean cut and attractive when he harbors such a dark soul?’

I gripped Jarod's hand so tightly by knuckles were white.

"Do you like our little Eve, Jarod?" Lyle was in no hurry to complete his mission, preferring to twist the knife a little deeper first. "You'd never believe what we went through to get her for you." He confided in a solemn whisper. "But you know Raines; nothing but the best for his Pretender!"

Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, reminding me that I had to breathe. As I slowly inhaled I heard Jarod's deep voice responding to Lyle, but it seemed to come from a vast distance away.

"Where is Sydney?" Jarod asked, his voice calm and even. I didn't know if it was for my benefit or to irritate Lyle.

"Sydney isn't your mentor anymore, Jarod. He's been reassigned." Lyle's smile had an edge sharp enough to cut steel.

"Does he even know I'm here?" Jarod pressed, ignoring Lyle's attempts to goad him.

"Why should he? Raines is in charge of your case."

"Trust me, I'd work better for Sydney."

"Maybe." Lyle admitted without seeming to care one way or another. "Maybe after Raines has what he wants he'll let Sydney take over again."

"No." Just one word but with a wealth of rejection.

"You have no choice, Wonderboy." Lyle taunted vindictively, finally speaking the words he'd been waiting impatiently to hurl at Jarod since the moment of his recapture. "Now it's your turn to lose a piece of yourself, even if the scars won't be visible to the naked eye. Somehow I think you'll miss your self-righteous shield of honor far more than I ever will my thumb!"

My fingers were forcefully peeled away from their death-grip on Jarod's hand by Lyle as the two thugs who'd accompanied him flanked Jarod, each holding an arm in a restraining grip, even though he'd made no move since standing at Lyle's arrival.

"This is such a sweet little drug." Lyle gloated, pulling a slender syringe from a pocket in his suit jacket. "It's a bit slow getting started, but boy oh boy when it does!" He continued, releasing me to pull out an alcohol swab from that same pocket. He thrust it at me.

"Go ahead, Eve!" His glare dared me to misunderstand his command.

My eyes darted to Jarod's face as I tore open the packet, my hands shaking uncontrollably--- but he didn't even glance my way. His burning eyes were fixed on Lyle's face as he stood, outwardly calm and relaxed in the grip of the two men, and their silent battle continued.

I rubbed the alcohol on his shoulder, his dark blue T-shirt pulled up by a guard to expose the flesh. Lyle held the syringe to me invitingly, swiftly capturing my neck with his free hand when I shook my head and started backing away. Tears spilled over my cheeks, a combination of helpless anger and the pain. It was almost as if I was doing the feeling for both of us, as Jarod sublimated all of his own anguish in his hatred for Lyle.

"I simply inject it into the muscle," Lyle struck swiftly, thrusting the plunger down with more force than necessary, his other hand squeezing painfully on my neck in his excitement.

’Oh, goody!’ My other self finally chipped in, ’More bruises!’

Jarod's eyes finally met mine, full of some silent communication that I sensed but didn't understand. Was he promising me security? Safety? Revenge? I didn't know, and he didn't speak, but I felt just a little stronger.

Lyle, unwilling to share the limelight, drew our attention back to him, finishing his explanation with malevolent enthusiasm.

"And your own body does the rest."

I saw a drop of dark red blood well up as Lyle pulled the needle out as swiftly as he'd inserted it. He threw another alcohol packet at me, laughing when I fumbled to catch it. He didn't release me, as I wiped the blood off Jarod's shoulder, noting the angry purple and red bruise already forming. The guards continued to hold Jarod firmly, though he'd made no move to resist them even when Lyle stabbed him with the needle.

"The longer you resist your animal impulses," Lyle hissed spitefully, infuriated by Jarod's lack of response, but maintaining a thin veneer of control. "The more violent they---you---will become!"

"It will take at least a week for the agent to move out of your system," he added, dragging his control back over his emotions with an effort that I could almost hear. "So you might as well enjoy yourself. Like this--" he tilted my head up with the painful pressure of his fingers digging into my neck and pressed a lingering kiss on my unresponsive lips.

I forced down nausea and made myself hold perfectly still; knowing that if I struggled it would only encourage him. Lyle gestured at the guards to release Jarod and propelled me into his newly freed arms in one lightning move. For once I didn't flinch away from a man's touch, feeling safer when Jarod's arms came around me than I had since I'd awakened in this hell.

Lacking the energy to fight my desire for security, I gave in to impulse and let myself burrow against his body, hoping to absorb some of his strength. His heart beat pulsed reassuringly beneath my cheek and his embrace tightened fractionally at my needy response. I didn't have to open my eyes, though, to know that he wasn't paying the slightest attention to me.

No, his face would appear to be perfectly composed, but a white-hot anger would be lancing out of his eyes towards Lyle, even as he unconsciously comforted me.

"Don't worry, Eve." Lyle goaded vengefully one last time before turning towards the door, making me quiver harder and squeeze my eyes shut tighter.

He paused until I finally looked up, clenching Jarod's T-shirt with two white knuckled hands. "I'll come back later and we'll work on your responsiveness."

If I could have made a sound I would have whimpered. As it was, I buried my face against Jarod's chest again and cried helplessly. Jarod's protective hold grew firmer and he moved his body more fully between my tormentor and me. Lyle's gloating laugh was cut blessedly short as the door locked behind him.

In the silence that followed my implacable alter ego reminded me that I didn't like to be touched. I tried to ignore it, but then it reminded me that Jarod had been drugged, and I had no idea what he'd do now. I might be in greater danger from him than I had been from Lyle.

I was amazed as I backed out of Jarod's embrace, tears still dripping down my face, at how hard it was to leave the shelter of his arms. Feelings of loss and isolation assailed me the moment he released me, and were joined by guilt as Jarod sighed once, sounding as lost and hurt as I felt.

"Don't look at me that way." Jarod entreated me, his dark eyes nearly black with emotion in a face that radiated such sorrow that I almost reached out to comfort him. Almost, but not quite, still bound by a lifetime of wariness.

"Are you okay?" I finally mouthed timidly, wanting desperately to erase that solitary misery, but deeply frightened by what the drug might be doing to his normally gentle nature.

I knew that he had reserves of pain and anger built up in him that rivaled my own, and if that drug released his hold on them---well, I wasn't going to think about that.

"My arm hurts." He admitted wearily, rubbing the offended shoulder. "But I don't feel any different otherwise." He knew instinctively what terrified me the most. "I promise, I'll warn you if I start to feel----agitated."

I actually trusted Jarod, more than I had ever believed I could trust a man, but I still flinched when he moved to sit on the couch. My involuntary rejection made his eyes darken with further. But even then, he tried again to reach through my fear and comfort me.

"Lyle's did this." Jarod gently traced the remains of a bruise. "Didn't he?"

I nodded, glad for once that I couldn't speak. My mouth was so dry that I could never have formed the words to answer him. It had taken all of my self-control not to jerk back when he'd reached toward my face.

"Lyle bruised your face, but just who bruised your soul?" He whispered, his eyes full of compassion and an understanding that only a person with similar scars could have.

I looked at him blankly, thrown off balance by his empathy. It was unnerving to realize that emotionally I was far more prepared to deal with Lyle, and his cruelty, than with this familiar stranger, and his gentle respect. Finally I shrugged---my childhood wasn't something I was prepared to go into right now. I picked up the notepad and pen that I'd dropped when Lyle had burst into the room and wrote two simple words.

"What now?"

The misery on Jarod's face increased and for the first time he looked away uncertainly.

"I don't know." He finally admitted in a husky whisper that tugged on my taut emotions. "I don't want to hurt----anyone." He carefully avoided looking at me.

I wrote another quick message on the pad and crouched in front of Jarod, much as he'd done with me earlier. I laid a tentative hand on his knee to get his attention.

"You won't hurt me." I caught his eyes when he looked up at me questioningly and I held it, trying to communicate my trust in him before I wrote another quick message.

"I don't know what we'll do either, let's just wait and see what happens. Would you like a shower? There's plenty of hot water." I swiveled it around for him to read with a wry smile, remembering my whimsical notion earlier about hot water.

Relief washed over his face, easing some of the anguish, even though it nothing could erase it.

"Thank you." He said simply.

I knew he referred to my declaration of trust and felt even guiltier about my earlier reaction. Moved by an impulse I didn't really understand, I reached out, grasping his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He'd been there for me, when Lyle had me terrified and nearly mindless, and I'd repaid it by looking at him the same way I looked at Lyle. I was going to make up for that, somehow.

"Yes." He mused thoughtfully. "I guess I do feel dirty after all. I think I'll take that shower. Maybe, when I get out, I could start teaching you some sign language?" He suggested hesitantly, uncertain of his welcome.

I smiled, attempting to convey reassurance and gratitude in the same gesture, and made the sign for "thank you". The lines on Jarod's face eased just a little more and he almost managed a smile in return before standing abruptly and retreating to the bedroom and it's adjoining bathroom.

I stared unseeingly at his back as he walked away, already contemplating the situation. Jarod, as capable he seemed with his white knight routine, was in way over his head. Yes, he knew the Centre for what it was, but he'd only experienced the full force of Raines' evil nature a few times while he was growing up. Sydney had protected him more than I suspect either of them were aware of. Jarod didn't have the same years of basic survival decisions that I did. Like it or not, Johnson was right and I was the only one here now with a choice.

With grim determination I turned my attention to the notepad and began to think. Before I'd become mute I would have talked to myself, just to hear the words and judge their validity. Now, all I could do was write them down and evaluate them.

On one side, I wrote the word "pro" and on the other side I put "con". Under Pro I listed things like "well being" meaning both of us.

I knew that if the drug worked the way Lyle and Raines and even Dr. Johnson seemed to believe it would, that Jarod would be shattered emotionally and I would be damaged physically if either of us tried to resist the effects. I added 'piss off Lyle'. Believe it or not, that was a consideration for me.

I hated Lyle for what he'd done to me and I loved the thought of irritating him by doing exactly what they had told me to. I didn't think for a moment that they believed I would---they were counting on Jarod's honorable nature being overwhelmed by the drug, forcing him to hurt me, which, in the long run, would hurt him even more. I suspected that a lot of Lyle's more recent intimidation tactics were to make me afraid of men and sex in general.

Finally I added the most important reason I could think of---I like Jarod. I can spare him, if I choose to, he can't do anything for either of us right now.

Then, to be balanced, I went over the cons. I was still frightened, on many levels, of being close to any man, so I started with that, fear.

Then there was the issue of morals---I'm constitutionally incapable of comprehending the concept of casual sex. Its pretty much all or nothing for me. However, next to the consequences that morality might bring under these circumstances, I thought I could make an exception to my standards.

There was the issue of pregnancy---which Raines wanted but, obviously, neither Jarod nor I did. But I hadn't had a period since I woke up in the Centre. Considering the emotional and physical stress I'd been subjected to, it would be a minor miracle if I was actually ovulating. But that didn't guarantee that I wasn’t or that I couldn't get pregnant.

Would it be better for Jarod and I to deal with the consequences of non-cooperation in the hope that it would prevent a child being brought into this hellish place? Tough choice to make, but I was in favor, barely, of taking the chance of getting pregnant. I really didn't want Lyle to have any more excuses to hit me.

Finally, there was my greatest issue---I like Jarod.

Yes, I know, I listed that on the pro side too. The problem was, Jarod was pretty darn near perfect in my eyes. He was absolutely the most gorgeous specimen of mankind I'd ever been within 10 feet of. He was smart, and kind, and understanding. He'd done nothing but protect and reassure me almost from the moment we'd met. I could fall for him very easily---in fact I was probably more than half way there already. Sex would just make the closeness---closer.

I knew I didn't really want to fall for anyone. Even though I'd never actually been in love before, (my husband was an escape, not the love of my life), I knew that it would leave me more vulnerable than I'd ever been. If I could be open to anybody, it would be someone like Jarod, but I had no reason to believe he'd reciprocate my feelings and plenty of reasons to believe he wouldn't.

’Oh, get real, Rose.’ My alter ego wasn't about to be left out of this decision, unfortunately. ’You're making problems before you have any clue if they'll ever happen. So what if you fall in love with the guy? You're already teetering on the edge---just a few more days with him in the same room would probably push you over. Live with it. If he doesn't ever feel the same, and you know he probably won't, at least you'll have some good memories to hold onto. Certainly better ones than that husband of yours left you!’

Put that way, the pros won the argument hands down. Fear, of course, coiled up in my belly as soon as I made my decision, but I pushed it into a little ball and told it to stay quiet. I took a deep breath, and headed towards the bedroom.

Once I'd made the decision I was determined to see it through, the sooner the better. I didn't want the chance to lose my nerve. (Kind of like getting into the swimming pool---I'm the jump off the deep end and get it over with type; not the creep out an inch at a time from the shallow end type.)

The bathroom door opened and Jarod walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist, at virtually the same moment I walked in. My breath caught in my throat. I wasn't a child and Jarod, as I may have mentioned before, was a devastatingly attractive man.

I was, however, painfully shy. I had no more idea of how to implement my decision than I did on how to build an antigravity device. Jarod's state of undress was giving me some quite novel, if unexpected, ideas though. Of course, my response to those ideas was to blush beet-red.

"Are you going to be okay?" Those brown eyes radiated concern, that smooth voice sliding through my chaotic thoughts like a hot knife through butter. I nodded my head numbly, licking parched lips unconsciously.

’Not if you don't put some clothes on.’ My mind contradicted firmly. I ignored it.

"I'll think of something." He promised earnestly with more optimism than conviction.

For once he wasn't reading my mind. He thought my nervousness was due to him and the drug, not realizing it was due to him and my decision. I noticed beads of perspiration forming on his upper lip and forehead and realized that the drug was acting more quickly than I'd actually thought it would. I had at least hoped we'd have until after lunch!

’So what? You're the jump right in type, right?’ I whispered encouragingly to myself.

I stepped in his direction slowly, licking my dry lips again. Jarod's eyes narrowed as it dawned on him that I was taking matters into my own hands, and he gave a quick, negative shake of his head.

Poor man, he thought he had some say in the matter. I felt a smile tugging at my lips as I advanced on Jarod, amused by his uncertain response, especially in the light of my own wobbly resolve. Now it was Jarod who was mesmerized. He watched me stalk towards him, conflicting emotions holding him frozen where he stood.

Relief had filled his eyes the moment I moved towards him.

Relief that he wasn't going to have to make a move; that he didn't need to act on the pressure that had been rising in him as the drug began making its effect known.

Guilt quickly crowded in on the relief, his eyes searching my face.

’Are you sure?’ His eyes questioned me silently.

My smile deepened in response. Hadn't Lyle told me to enjoy myself? Well, then I would.

We were standing toe to toe when uncertainty struck me. What did Jarod see when he looked at me? I knew that I wasn't ugly, but I'd never really felt pretty either. Some small part of me believed that if I had been pretty enough I wouldn't have been hit by my husband and father.

Now, with my mottled face and still too thin form, I fought that same demon of insecurity and self-doubt. Jarod saw the self-consciousness and raised his hand to cup my unblemished cheek.

"You're beautiful." He murmured with sincerity that couldn't be doubted.

He slowly lowered his head---eagerly, I lifted mine.

’Regrets can wait until later.’ I promised myself. This was a moment I had every intention of simply enjoying.

Days later; possibly even weeks later, I couldn't remember them well enough to count, I awakened with knowledge that something was wrong. My head ached dully and my mouth felt dry, reminding me of something but I couldn't quite place what. My thoughts were foggy and hard to hold, until I stumbled into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water.

Then I remembered that I'd felt this way the day I first woke up in this room. I examined myself in the mirror. The bruising on my face and body, except for the very worst of them, were completely gone. Some time had passed since I made my fateful decision---what had happened?

Concentrating with all of my might I could, just barely, remember vague sensations and feelings, some of which brought up a self-conscious blush. I decided it was safe to assume that I hadn't had any reasons to regret my choice, at least not then, and that somehow I, at least, had been drugged. I suspected that Jarod would be suffering from the same foggy memories as well, though.

Was this what they did to him before? Is that why he barely remembers his childhood? Why would they want to drug us on top of what they'd already given Jarod? Did the drug somehow encourage my cooperation?’ I wondered foggily.

A woman rarely conceives if she's terrified, which I certainly was. What if they didn't want to risk my possible refusal and they used something, (in my food? through the air vents?), that dulled my anxiety---opened me to the choices they wanted?’ I felt sick at the thought that my carefully thought out decision might not have been my decision after all.

I stumbled back into the bedroom to get some clothes. That was when my other concern, the one that had been nagging formlessly at the back of my mind, crystallized. Jarod wasn't lying in the bed, which didn't feel unusual, but when listened I couldn't hear a single sound to indicate he was moving around in the living room, either.

Sudden fear made my heart race and my stomach plummet. My hand shook as I tied the sash to my robe and left the bedroom to look for Jarod. I already knew what I would find.

Well, I thought I knew what I'd find. Lyle sitting at the small table was a shock.

"He's gone, isn't he?" I signed with shaking hands, only then realizing that I was nearly fluent in sign language.

’How can I not remember what had happened since that day, but I know how to sign?’ Then I had another, more frightening thought.

’Has Lyle returned to continue where he left off?’ Not wanting to give him any ideas, I prayed that he’d attribute my paleness and trembling to grief and not to the resurgent fear that it really was.

"It is past time he went back to work." Lyle agreed, refusing to answer my unspoken question.

Would he be returning? The knot of tension in my stomach was telling me "no".

’Now it’s time for regrets.’ I thought dully, wondering how Lyle and Raines would attempt to use my grief against me.

"What now?" I signed, knowing I looked completely defeated, but lacking the energy to care.

"Now we pick up where we left off." Lyle unconsciously echoed my earlier thought, watching my face closely as he casually confirmed my worst fear. "I hadn’t finished training you to be useful to the Centre, you know."

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard against the fear rising in my throat.

’But they wouldn’t have sent Jarod away unless they thought I was pregnant. What if he hurts the baby?’ I thought numbly, ensconced in an icy shell of dismay.

"You know," he murmured, standing and deliberately crowding in on my personal space. "I can make this a lot easier for you. All you have to do is cooperate with me."

He trailed his finger down the side of my face. Nausea almost overwhelmed me, so obviously that Lyle took a prudent step backwards before I controlled it with several deep breaths.

’Why? He doesn’t really care about me, why take up this threat again now? Funny how he and Raines keep using the same tired lines. Don't they realize no one in their right mind would believe them?’

I had no illusions that I was irresistible to Lyle. He wanted to hurt Jarod and he knew his suggestive remarks bothered me. On the other hand, if they'd succeeded, then I couldn't count on Raines to hold him back from me. I was probably safe from another beating, but not from Lyle’s-----other attentions.

I barely made it to the bathroom before being sick; much to Lyle's disgust.

I may have been the first woman in the history of mankind to actually thank God for morning sickness as the interest in Lyle’s eyes turned to revulsion. The nausea finally subsided and I rinsed my mouth out at the sink before returning to the bedroom area. I resolutely ignored Lyle’s presence as I selected clean clothes for the day, knowing that he wanted me to protest.

Lyle watched me, taking up a position at a safe distance from my weak stomach with one shoulder leaning against the open door between the bedroom and living area. He didn't try to stop me when I entered the bathroom, clothes in my arms. I closed that door firmly, an action that prompted a chuckle from Lyle.

"Don't you want breakfast first?" Lyle asked me when I reappeared and headed towards the outer door.

I knew that even if I had been hungry I'd never have been able to swallow past the lurking queasiness. I just shook my head "no", wanting to get this next part over and done with. My guess that our next visit would be to the medical wing was confirmed when Lyle motioned me towards the door.

"Your loss." He shrugged as he moved to open the door to the corridor. "We’ll just go get you examined and decide what to do after that when we get there."

I discovered I wasn’t numb enough yet not to feel terror at the suggestive leer he directed towards me as he turned me down the hall. I knew that I was in trouble no matter what the results indicated.

If I was pregnant, and I was sure now that was the case---I remembered the symptoms too well, then he would return to make good on his threat of rape. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would undoubtedly have a beating to look forward too before Jarod was brought back to do the job right.

Terror beat against the bars of my mind like a frightened bird in a cage, desperate to get loose and get away. I barely noticed the guards lurking by the doorway as they fell into step behind us. I wracked my brains for a way to stave off the inevitable, but finally had to settle for refusing to think of the future.

I focused my thoughts on the guards, realizing suddenly that I still couldn't tell the apes that did Raines' dirty work apart. They might as well have been cloned because they had no distinguishing features to separate them. I wondered if Raines ordered them in matching sets from some secret organization catalogue. Maybe Bullies R Us?

Two faint whooshing sounds pulled me from my slightly hysterical thoughts. I didn't change my pace, but I listened intently and was rewarded by the unmistakable thud of flesh hitting the floor. Lyle turned, one hand already clutching my arm to prevent my escape.

Standing about two yards from the crumpled bodies of the guards, red tagged darts quivering in their backs, was the trembling form of Broots, a dart gun shaking in his hands as he pulled it up to aim at Lyle. Lyle reacted with admirable speed, even if it was in a completely cowardly fashion, by pulling me in front of him as a shield. My opinion of him hit an all time low.

"You realize you've just committed suicide, don't you, Broots?" Lyle called down the hallway to the timid looking man. Broots raised his chin defiantly---he had more gumption than most people gave him credit for.

"Let her go." Broots answered with commendable tenacity.

My expression must have conveyed both my utter amazement and dawning hope because he directed a nervous smile in my direction, and then blushed a bright red.

"Not a chance." Lyle smiled the charming way he had when he was sure he held the winning hand. "I do hope you weren't stupid enough to join him on this pathetic excuse for a rescue, sister dearest." He added in a louder voice, confident that Miss Parker couldn't be too far away.

Another soft whoosh sounded and Lyle stiffened comically before his eyes rolled back in his head and he too collapsed, almost dragging me down with him.

"Why yes, brother dearest, I did join him." Miss Parker murmured with malevolent satisfaction behind me, slowly lowering her own dart gun.

"Well, don't just stand there, move it!" She ordered me, fixing a cold blue stare on me.

That was enough to break my paralysis. I pulled free of Lyle's now slack grasp and leaned over to grab the darts from the three men, suspecting that it would be best if they weren't found. Before I stepped over Lyle to join the tall brunette, however, I took another moment to give Lyle's unconscious form a swift kick in the ribs. I heard Broots' soft footsteps receding down the hallway in the opposite direction.

"I must say, I'm not impressed." She informed me matter of factly as she led the way through the maze of corridors that comprised most of the Centre. I felt my eyebrow raise mockingly, but I couldn't have responded even if had had felt the inclination to fight with her.

"What, not even one snappy comeback? What does Jarod see in you?" She mocked; pulling me into an elevator that had been waiting while Sydney held the doors for us.

I jerked free of her grip and caught her eye, raising my chin defiantly. After the helpless terror of my encounter with Lyle, it was a relief to have an opponent I could confront. It was clear that she was jealous, but so was I. I knew that Jarod had mixed feelings for his childhood companion and friend.

It didn't really matter that neither of us really had a claim on Jarod; we exchanged heated glares for several long moments, much to Sydney's restrained amusement. I finally won that battle of wills when I indicated the thin white scar on my neck. Her sarcastic facade faltered as she realized the import of the scar and a dark flush stained her cheeks as she realized she might have gone just a little too far.

"What happened?" Her voice was carefully neutral, as the caring side of her nature, kept scrupulously hidden from the world, warred with her customary sarcastic facade.

"Raines." I spelled with my hand.

"Ah, yes. Raines." Sydney nodded his head; his face set in lines of compassion but his gaze inquisitive.

He looked like he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask me, but knew better than to voice them. I wonder if they dealt with Jarod's well being, or if they were just an example of analytical curiosity. Then it began to finally sink in that I had just been rescued, by three people that I didn’t even know knew I was at the Centre!

"Why? How?" I signed, puzzled, though deeply grateful.

"Not even Jarod deserves this." It was Miss Parker who answered; her gaze fixed firmly on the numbers lighting up over the elevator door when I looked her way.

"But what about Lyle? And Raines?" I spelled quickly. "They'll kill you!"

Parker snorted inelegantly. "I don't kill that easy honey." She told me dismissively.

I had to admit that was true, but no one is invulnerable.

"It was your friend, Dr. Johnson who made this possible." Sydney explained gently. "He got a sample of the experimental drug he's working on to us through Nurse Lisa. She and Broots have been quite an item." Sydney grinned with wry amusement.

’Johnson and Lisa helped me? They risked themselves for me?’ Weak tears pricked at my eyelids as I absorbed the enormity of my debt to them.

"The drug wipes out short-term memory, even as it enhances long term memory. Lyle won't remember what happened." Miss Parker explained grudgingly.

I nodded my understanding before spelling out my last question.

"Jarod?"

Sydney's expression filled me with foreboding.

"We don't know." He admitted reluctantly. "They moved him this morning and we still don't know where."

Now it was my turn to focus on the floor numbers lighting up while I tried to hide the emotion surging through me. I was escaping---Jarod was still captive. Should I leave him?

"You care about Jarod, don't you?" Sydney's sudden question threw me off guard.

I looked at him suspiciously, wondering what those penetrating eyes of his had figured out about me. Finally I nodded reluctantly.

"Do you care enough to trust us?" He pressed.

Funny, I'd never noticed until then how similar Jarod's speech pattern was to Sydney's, gentle, yet demanding.

"What do you want me to do?" I questioned warily, already suspecting that I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Leave now and trust us to help him." Sydney answered steadily, his eyes boring in on mine as if he could force me by sheer will to agree.

’Leave Jarod here? Alone? Trust the people who'd been hunting him for years? Count on them to win his freedom? Can I do that?’

"If you stay." Sydney pressed relentlessly. "You'll simply be a weapon they can use against him and a hindrance to his own escape. He doesn’t need to be worrying about you."

"I’m sure he would have already escaped by now if it weren’t for you." Parker added with more than a hint of malice. "You’re a liability to him right now."

That hurt, deeply, but I had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that they were right. There wasn't anything I could for Jarod at the Centre. And if what I feared was true, it was imperative that I leave now, before it was too late---Jarod would understand, I knew.

"Can I trust you?" I demanded of Sydney, even though I knew I had no choice.

"I will do all I can to help Jarod." He promised gravely, and I trusted the concern I saw lurking in his eyes.

It wasn't the promise I wanted, but I knew it was the best I would get. I just hoped that my belief that Sydney loved Jarod as a son was correct. Even if he did keep it deep down in his soul where no one was allowed to look.

I nodded my head slowly, fixing Sydney with a steely glare that told him I would hold him personally accountable for what happened to Jarod. Miss Parker caught that look and raised a mocking eyebrow at us.

"Do you really want him in the hands of Raines and Lyle?" I signed to her, refusing to break eye contact. "Do you hate him that much?"

Miss Parker looked away first.

"No!" She spat out harshly. "No." She repeated again, more normally. "I don't hate Jarod, and I don't want him in their hands. He'll get out of here---I'll see to it." She met my gaze again, a reluctant promise gleaming in those hard blue eyes.

I smiled slowly at her, knowing that she cared too, no matter how much she wanted to hide it.

"Thank you." I gestured simply, looking at them both.

I had a fleeting desire to ask Parker her first name while I had the chance, but repressed it firmly. I didn't really accept the theory that having two names in the Centre was tantamount to a death sentence, but I didn't want to risk being wrong either. I was now living in a world where anything was possible, even stupid things, like having two names or wearing a red shirt meant certain death.

The doors to the elevator finally opened, revealing a tiny windowless room. I must have looked slightly panicky because Sydney smiled reassuringly and gestured toward the door on the far wall.

"We're on the roof." He explained, ignoring Miss Parker's impatience. "You can leave any time you want but I suggest you wait until nightfall."

He opened the door, proving the truth of his words and pointing to a pair of metal rails protruding from the side of the roof.

"It will be a long climb down, but when you get to the bottom you'll be on the beach. Follow it south, to town, and use this key to pick up the red Subaru in the Best Mart parking lot on 5th and Main. It has a full tank."

I nodded my understanding.

"Good luck." Miss Parker blurted out just before the elevator doors closed on the two of them. She looked surprised and not very happy at her moment of humanity, prompting a silent laugh from me.

The moment they were gone, however, I ignored Sydney's advice to wait, and started down the metal ladder immediately. I wasn't willing to spend another instant at the Centre, and silently determined to take my chances with the ocean before I let them take me back. Lyle wasn’t ever going to have a chance to touch me again.

I don't know if it was fear, determination, or anger that helped me, but I made excellent time. I hit the beach just as alarms began sounding, the shrill cacophony barely reaching the rocky shore where I stood. I kept the tall cliffs to my right and walked swiftly away, south towards town, and was out of sight long before anyone from the Centre thought to look by the beach.

After some searching I found Main Street, and then the Best Mart. The Subaru, a cherry red station wagon, had Oregon plates and two brown leather suitcases. One suitcase was packed with clothing, the other, smaller one, with money and a simple tan file folder holding forged documents. New name, new identity, everything I could possibly need, including a license. I tapped the documents against my hand, debating with myself.

’I'm not returning to the Centre alive, that much I’m sure of. Just how anonymous are these papers? And the Subaru, who purchased it? How? With what funding?’

I debated the odds, and finally decided that the pretty vehicle was too much of a risk to use, and left it in the lot.

I made a quick trip inside the Best Mart, making a pile of purchases with some money from the suitcase. When I emerged, after having explained to the manager with a note that I was deaf and would he please call a cab for me, I retrieved the suitcases from the back of the car and waited for my cab in front of the store.

The cab took me to the greyhound bus station where I convinced a sympathetic traveler to purchase my ticket to Chicago for me. I informed her that I was fleeing my abusive husband, noting how her gaze flew to the my drawn face, and the fresh purple finger marks Lyle had left on my upper arm and wrist just this morning. I had never been so glad that I was fair skinned and bruised easily as I was in that moment when I saw her dawning sympathy.

I exited the bus in New Jersey and found a small, seedy motel where I used one of my Best Mart purchases to dye my hair a bright, copper red. An optometry store in a strip mall supplied contacts that turned my blue eyes green, and a pair of oval, mirrored sunglasses. Finally, I returned to the motel and examined my new wardrobe.

It was worthless.

Okay, it was incredibly expensive, but it was worthless to me. I could see Miss Parker's hand in the purchases. Mini skirts, long, business-like jackets, trouser suits and two pairs of spiked high-heeled shoes. I finally selected a beige trouser suit and dropped the rest off at a Salvation Army center with a note asking that it be donated to the local battered women's shelter. I then went to the nearest St. Vincent's to obtain the supplies to finish my transformation.

I bought a pair of faded, ragged jeans with bell-bottom flares and a tie-dyed tank top my daughter would have loved. I found a pair of well-worn tennis shoes and a navy blue hat that reminded me of Gilligan's Island and decided my wardrobe for the next part of my journey was complete.

I went back to the hotel and spread out the cheap map of the USA I'd purchased on the bed. I closed my eyes, turned the map around three times, and laid my finger blindly on the paper. It had landed on Dinosaur, Colorado, my new home to be. The forged papers went into a dumpster along with the beige suit, the money went into a simple black canvas backpack, and another teen-aged hippie wannabe boarded a greyhound bus the next day, the ticket once again purchased by a kind stranger. I was doing everything in my power to ensure that there was no trail for the Centre to track me by.

I left the bus again in Michigan, and, breaking the rule I'd drummed into my children as soon as they could walk and talk, I hitch-hiked to Colorado. I got lucky and an married truck driving team picked me up and took me all the way to Chicago. A woman on her way to Phoenix took me to Salt Lake City, and an elderly couple returning from a trip to the Grand Canyon took me the rest of the way to Dinosaur. They turned out to be my greatest stroke of luck. For once the scriptwriters were working for me, and not against me---I might have won a spot on the show after all!

The man, Sam Flemming, had learned sign language in the military after a close encounter with an explosion deprived him of hearing for several days. He got his hearing back, but decided he'd better learn how to communicate just in case he had another accident. It was nice to communicate more easily than the writing method, but I didn’t like the fact that they could question me without any effort.

I listened gratefully as Sally told me the story of their lives, from courtship, to the death of their only child, Robert, in Viet Nam. She went on to describe their many journeys now that Sam had retired, but she eventually got around to asking me the questions I'd been praying she'd never get to.

"So, what's your name?"

"I don't know." I signed, feeling miserable to be lying to these nice people. My stomach began to churn in a way that it hadn't since I'd set foot on the beach outside the Centre.

"You don't know your name?" Sally exclaimed incredulously. "Where are your people?"

"I don't know."

Sam pulled over to the side of the road.

"Okay," he turned around in his seat. "Are you trying to tell us you have amnesia?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"Honey you should be in a hospital!" Sally insisted, her kind face creasing with worry. I paled and shook my head vigorously.

"Why not?" Sam asked reasonably.

"I don't know." I signed, starting the story I'd worked out during my time on the bus. "I woke up in an alley with bruises all over me and this backpack full of money. I didn't know I couldn't talk at first but later I discovered this scar." I indicated my neck. "And I have nightmares about a man chasing me, wanting to hurt me. I can't go to a hospital, I can't go to the police, I can't risk him finding me."

"Where were you---when you woke up in this alley?" Sam demanded warily.

"On the East Coast---in Delaware." I signed, deliberately not giving a city name.

"Is this man a husband? A boyfriend? Maybe your father?" He pressed for details.

"I don't know." I signed my misery increasing. "He's too young to be my father. Look, maybe I should just go!"

"No you don't, young lady." Sally jumped in firmly, laying a restraining hand on my arm when I reached for the door handle.

"Sam, you back off right now!" She ordered him firmly. "Can't you see you're frightening the girl!"

She made him pull back onto the freeway, probably to prevent my exit from the car, and told me to lay down and relax for a while. I heard them talking, though, when they thought I'd fallen asleep in the back seat.

"Sally, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to take a total stranger home?" Sam expostulated in harsh whisper.

"Sam, that little girl is not dangerous. She's scared to death!" Sally responded placidly.

"Of course she's scared to death. She probably stole that bag of money and has some pretty nasty people after her. She no more has amnesia than you do."

"Of course she doesn't, dear. But she's no criminal and she is terrified. I don't know where the money came from, but considering the scar on her neck and the bruises on her arm, I'd say she's more than earned it one way or another." Sally's gentle voice had a layer of steel underneath it.

"Sally, you've got to stop rescuing every stray we come across, dear." Sam conceded defeat gracefully.

"We'll just have to give her a safe place to build up her strength---the girl is far to thin---and eventually she'll come to trust us enough to tell us the entire story." Sally predicted contentedly.

I almost felt like telling them the whole story right then and there, but I knew I could never put them in the kind of danger that the Centre represented.

Sam followed his wife's instructions, putting me up in the studio apartment that he'd put in over the garage for their long dead son. He determined that I had office skills, and got me a position in the local doctor's office. The doctor wasn't happy in employing someone with no identification, but Sam promised he'd get my lost ID replaced right away.

I didn't ask any questions when Sam presented me with a new driver's license, birth certificate, and social security card with the name I'd chosen---Anne Rose Rambler. I told them to call me Rose, though. It had been my real name once upon a time, before the advent of Raines and Lyle and the Centre in my life. We settled into a comfortable routine.

Sally kept waiting for me to come clean with my dark past, never realizing that the issue wasn't trust, but safety. Sam and I would walk every night after dinner, which Sally insisted that I take with them, and he questioned me discretely during our walks. I think he'd finally realized that I was afraid to tell them anything solid for their sakes, not mine, because he stopped trying after a few weeks. I gradually relaxed as time went by and would have been completely happy, if I could have only stopped vomiting every morning when I first woke up.

For two months I told myself that the morning sickness was just a reaction to the previous weeks of stress. I knew better, but I simply couldn’t accept the ramifications of my condition---so I pretended it didn’t exist. Then came the day when I had to retreat to the bathroom when Sally placed a well done steak in front of me. That's when I finally gave up and allowed myself to admit that I was pregnant.

I was trapped in a world that a didn’t fully understand, bearing a child against my will, separated from the father of that child, who had no more wanted to be a father than I a mother, hunted by an amoral, ruthless organization, and well and truly up the tree without a paddle. My nausea redoubled and began to feel like I was going to throw up my toenails.

Unfortunately, Sally and Sam both knew the signs as well as I did.

"Rose, dear, its time for you to come clean with us." Sally announced firmly, standing in the open door to the bathroom where I continued to retch. "C'mon, wash out your mouth, wipe your face, and join us in the living room. I'll have some orange juice and crackers waiting for you."

"Best do as she says, young lady." Sam chimed in from the hallway behind her. "She's the toughest drill sergeant I've ever known."

I leaned back against the wall, still sitting on the bathroom floor, and nodded tiredly. I was shaky and flushed, but I was pretty sure the worst was over---at least it would be if I didn’t get too stressed. Apparently my tendency towards having a nervous stomach during pregnancy had been transferred into my new self along with the rest of me.

I waited a few seconds, to be sure that my uneasy stomach had accepted that there was nothing left to eject, and pulled myself up to rinse out my mouth again. I couldn’t hide from my pregnancy anymore, but I had no idea what to do about it.

"Rose, we know something's wrong." Sam said as soon as I seated myself in the cushioned rocker, concern shadowing his face. "Now, we've tried to be patient, but its time to be honest with us. What is going on? And don't try the amnesia story, we all know better."

I looked at them both, sitting together on the couch and holding hands like newlyweds, and struggled with the overwhelming desire to tell them everything and let someone else worry for a while.

"I can't." I finally signed. "It's too dangerous. It’s too crazy."

"Hon, unless you're fighting with the Mafia it isn't too dangerous. I've got resources you don't know about yet." Sam contradicted me gently.

"These people make the Mafia look like boy scouts." I rebutted firmly.

"Okay, then tell us what you can." Sally broke in reasonably.

I looked at her, momentarily at a loss. Could I actually tell them part of the story? I'd never even considered that! Where had my mind been?

"We want to help, girl." Sam added, exasperation bleeding through into his voice.

"When is the baby due?" Sally asked calmly, startling both Sam and I with her bluntness.

A reluctant smile pulled at my lips. Sally was nothing if not determined. I finally accepted that I wasn't going to win this particular argument, surprised at the sensation of relief I felt at the thought.

So I explained to them that a ruthless corporation, that appeared to be able to operate above the law, had kidnapped me. I told them that they'd had a child prodigy working for them who'd escaped as an adult and then managed elude their efforts to retrieve him. They wanted another child prodigy, I added, choosing my words carefully, preferably fathered by the original.

"So this prodigy and you---?" Sam asked delicately. I nodded sadly.

"I don't think I want to know how they accomplished that." He murmured thoughtfully. "How did you escape?"

"He had friends inside the organization."

"Why isn't he here? With you?" Sally wanted to know, her romantic heart angered at this miscarriage of justice.

"I don't even know if he got out. They separated us just hours before his friends rescued me. But even if he did, Sally, we weren't the love match of the century. We were breeding stock." Nausea rose again as I signed the brutal truth.

"I took great precautions to disappear after my escape. I didn't use the ID his friends provided. I don't want him to know where I am. If he could find me so could the others."

"Not necessarily." Sam cautioned sensibly. "Remember, they want him for his brains, which indicates he's capable of figuring out things they can't."

"You already knew you were pregnant, didn't you?" Sally probed.

I sighed and nodded my head.

"Don't you think he has a right to know?" Sally pressed gently.

"Yes, he does." I admitted simply. "I don't like the choice I've made---I don't like choosing for him. Family is very important to him and he'd be here in a heartbeat if he knew where I was and suspected I carried his child, but he can't know."

I stopped, trying to figure out how to explain my decision, especially since it was completely indefensible by normal standards.

"I can't put the child at risk." I signed slowly, trying to make them understand the importance of what I was saying. "If the---corporation in question---found us they'd take it away from me. If they still have---the prodigy, they'd try for more babies, and they'd put all of us through hell, like they did---him. I don't think I could live with that.

"I didn't ask for this child," I looked at my friends, tears wending slowly down my cheeks. "But I'll protect it with my life. J---the father, he's already looking for his own family. The ones he was stolen from as a boy. He isn't ready to go into hiding like this---and that makes him dangerous to us."

"Okay, I'll concede that you don't think it would be a good idea to look for this man." Sam agreed reluctantly. "But why haven't you at least asked Dr. Black for a check up? You have to take care of yourself, you know."

"Records." I signed briefly.

"Dr. Black is a friend of mine. If I tell him you need to be invisible, he'll understand and keep you hidden. You're seeing him as a patient and not an employee tomorrow." Sam declared firmly.

"We'll help you, Rose." Sally told me gently, coming over to pat my shoulder. "You aren't alone anymore."

Their support broke down the last of my defenses, and I started to cry in earnest. Sally shooed Sam out of there and set about comforting me as I cried out several months' worth of worry, fear, and anguish. Fortunately, she was more than up for the task.

Once again life settled into a comfortable routine.

Sally stopped serving meat, much to Sam's dismay, as soon as she realized it triggered my nausea and cooked hearty meatless meals instead. Dr. Black confirmed the pregnancy and put me on multi-vitamins. He also took the time to reassure me that he'd keep my records at home, rather than at the office. I refused Sally's nightly offers to move into the house on a regular basis and, except for the morning sickness, started to feel pretty good. But I balooned so much in the next month and Dr. Black ordered an ultrasound.

He would have done so eventually anyway, since I had no clue how far along I was, but my best guess didn’t put me any further than three months, and looked closer to five. Most of that growth had taken place over only six weeks. Even so, the news that I was having twins came as something of a shock.

When they found the third baby on a follow up ultrasound I started to worry. I was beginning to suspect that Raines had ensured my fertility with the use of drugs. I was even angrier with him than I had been. Didn't he know how dangerous it was to expose a woman on fertility drugs to the risk of immediate pregnancy?

I started to worry---how many fetuses were there? I'd heard of eight or more when fertility drugs were used. Most doctors considered carrying triplets to be risky and anything more positively dangerous. Could I agree to selective abortion, though? Could I actually decide to kill my own unborn children?

And what was I going to do for the birth? The tiny facility of Dinosaur couldn't possibly have the means to care for premature and/or low birth weight infants, which was pretty much a given in multiple births, but I didn’t dare go to a larger hospital. My thoughts ran in endless circles; the children need to be born in a state-of-the-art hospital, but the Centre is undoubtedly monitoring them. Save their lives and expose them to the Centre? Or risk their lives at birth, but keep them hidden?

I worried so much that I started to lose weight again. The dark circles that had resided under my eyes at the time of my escape returned, I developed a nervous tremor that made my handwriting nearly illegible, and the nightmares returned in vivid detail, with helpless infants crying out for their mommy just to make things interesting. Dr. Black finally hired a temp for the office and sent me home on what he called an extended leave. He promised to have another ultrasound done in the next week after I confessed my fears about the fertility drugs and told me to rest or he'd give me something to make me rest. I promised to behave, even though I didn’t have a clue as to how to stop my endless fears.

’Oh, God!’ I thought grimly. Three babies? Even if that's all I'm carrying how am I going to take care of three all by myself? What the hell am I going to do?’

I was stuck directly in between my need to keep the babies safe from discovery and the need to keep them alive if they were low birth weight. Sally finally convinced me to move into the house, but none of us had a solution for the birth. Once again I overheard them discussing me.

"Sam, we have to figure something out." Sally had caught Sam on his way out of the bathroom, just next door to my room. "She can't afford to lose anymore weight but all she does is fret. And she's having dreadful nightmares."

"Damn those people!" Sam swore violently. "How can they possibly get away with such monstrosities. This is the United States, for God's sake!"

"That's not something we can help, Sam." Sally pulled him back on task gently. "It's Rose and the babies that are important now."

"Actually, my dear, I think I may have something to help there----"

At that point Sally shushed him and led him off to the kitchen and out of range for even my sensitive ears.

Then-----Jarod arrived.

I was walking along the outskirts of the Flemming's ten acres, listlessly following Sally's instructions to "get a breath of fresh air and stretch my legs", and worrying, as usual. A tall man with dark hair stepped out of the shadows of a stand of pine trees as I passed by, nearly frightening me into an early labor.

"Why didn't you use the ID Sydney got for you?" His deep voice demanded from directly behind me.

I jumped, and then sagged as my knees weakened with relief when I recognized Jarod.

"Don't DO that!" I signed, gasping for breath and trying to hide the surge of joy that coursed through me behind irritation. Part of me had been expecting his arrival since the day I'd settled down.

"Sit down." Jarod propelled me firmly to a fallen, half-rotted log. It was probably the same seat he'd used while waiting for me to walk by. Just how did he know I'd be walking by, though?

"That's better." He announced as my color returned and my breathing steadied. "Now, back to my question. Why didn't you use the ID?"

"I didn't know if it was safe." I signed reluctantly. "Is the Centre chasing behind you?"

"I doubt it." He answered, his troubled eyes examining me carefully. "I don't think your friend Sam is about to give them a hint as to your whereabouts. It took me three hours to I convince him he could trust me with your location. And I didn’t leave any clues for them to follow this time.

"Why didn't you try to contact me? Especially when you knew---?" He eyed my protruding belly significantly.

"I was afraid to." I answered simply. "You expose yourself to the Centre every time you do one of your rescues and I'm not willing to take the chance of them finding me through you. Especially not now when it's even more important that I stay hidden from the Centre." I paused, and then finally added, "And I didn't want you to have to choose."

He passed his hand over his face, almost as if he was trying to wipe off his troubled expression.

"I thought that maybe you couldn't bear to see me after---"

I captured his hand, drawing him down to sit beside me.

"No." I signed earnestly, "I have no bad feelings about you. The little I remember of our time together--" I was blushing fiercely by now, but Jarod was grinning. "They're good memories." I admitted.

"Good." Jarod answered firmly, pulling a flat, rectangular jewelry box from his pocket. "Will you put this on? For me?"

I shook my head, until he opened the box, revealing a strip of blue velvet about an inch wide with a cameo fixed to the center of it. My brows drew inward in a troubled frown---a choker, what was this all about? What could a necklace possibly have to do with anything?

"It's something I worked on after I escaped the Centre, while I was trying to find you. You covered your tracks very well." He added with flattering admiration that was mixed with a remainder of frustration.

The brooch was set in a metal base that was thicker and heavier than I'd expected, but expectancy on Jarod's face still made no sense to me. Becoming impatient with my contemplation of his gift, Jarod lifted it from my hands and fastened it around my neck for me.

"Go ahead." He urged, his face lit up with boyish excitement.

He was obviously thrilled with himself. I looked at him curiously, go ahead and do what? I asked him with an upraised brow.

"Say something."

The brow lifted higher, but when Jarod had that particular expectant look on his face I found it quite impossible to refuse him. It reminded me of my children begging to open just one gift the night before Christmas.

"Umm----" my brief foray into speech halted abruptly as I heard a mellow female voice respond to my halfhearted attempt to speak.

"Jarod?" The voice, not my old voice but a perfectly acceptable one, nonetheless, inquired hesitantly for me.

"It's a voice synthesizer. I put a microchip inside that interprets the movement of your throat into the words that you would have spoken. It's amazing what we can do with computer technology, isn't it?"

"I--I can't believe it." And I couldn't.

After so many months with no voice I just couldn't accept that I could once again speak. After all the months alone, worrying, I couldn't accept that Jarod was here. Especially when I'd never allowed myself to contemplate the possibility that he might want to find me.

"Now tell me, what were you planning to do? And just when are you due? Aren't you a little---" Jarod paused prudently.

Even he knew better than to use the words "big" or "fat" with a pregnant woman. I laughed, enjoying the sound of it after months of silence.

"Ummm, I think that Raines might have tried to help things along a little. The last ultrasound showed three."

Jarod's eyes glazed over with shock.

"Triplets?"

"Yeah."

"Triplets?" He repeated blankly.

"Yes, Jarod. Triplets, as in three babies." I affirmed gently.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Well, at least he’d gotten past the "triplets" part.

"Jarod, I didn't even know if you could escape the Centre a second time. Raines did promise to keep you drugged day and night if he had to."

"He did? Well he tried to follow through on it, too. Whatever did you say to Miss Parker, anyway? I never expected her to actually exert herself to do something her father would have disapproved of so much. Especially not within the sacred halls of the Centre."

I gathered by that confused flood of information that Miss Parker and Sydney had made good on their promise to get Jarod out. I found myself smiling at the memory of that fateful elevator ride.

"I didn't really have to say anything." I admitted with painful honesty, not at all eager to suggest that Jarod start thinking of Parker in a more friendly light. "She really does care about you, you know. So do Broots and Sydney."

"Well, they all somehow managed to have the vials of the drug I was being given replaced with identical look-alikes filled with sterile water. All I really needed was to retain the ability to think clearly. I left the moment that I received the message that you'd gotten safely away---I think I was only a week behind you."

"I'm sorry, Jarod, but I really wish you hadn't found me." I admitted sadly. All the talk about the Centre brought home to me just how right I had been in my decision to avoid him.

"Now I have to find another hiding place and I'll never have the luck that I did with the Flemmings. I know that you want to help, to be involved, but that's just not practical."

"Annie," the catch in his husky voice warned me that I wasn't going to win this argument easily.

I made a mental note to do something about my vulnerability to his vulnerability. It wasn't fair for him to win all the arguments just because I couldn't say "no" when he got that hurt, lost, little boy look on his face.

"I know that you've convinced yourself that you've made the right choice to protect the babies, and that's why I can forgive you, but I'm not going to let any of you vanish on me. Maybe I developed a resistance to the Centre's memory altering gas, because I remember quite a bit of what happened between the day Lyle drugged me and the day you escaped. I thought that we'd forged a----connection."

"Jarod, this isn’t about you and me!" I tried to protest, wishing I could remember more about that time.

"But I don't mind starting over again from scratch." Jarod determinedly pushed past my feeble objection. "Just don't try to take this family away from me too, please!"

One thing I really hate about being pregnant is the way it releases my emotions. I felt tears welling in my eyes as Jarod added that heartfelt "please". I wanted to hold firm, to tell him that his feelings didn’t matter, only the babies and their safety, but I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t bring myself to hurt him that way.

"But Jarod," I whispered, trying to stop the tears even as they spilled over. "What about your search for your mother and father and sister? What about your crusade against the Centre? I can't ask you to give those up."

"I'm a genius, remember?" He assured me gently, wiping away my tears, and clearly convinced that he’d won. "I'll figure it out. The important thing is that I'll do it with you, not alone. Now, if you hate me after what happened, I can understand and I'll leave you alone. But if you care about me, even a little, then you aren't getting rid of me. We're in this together."

"I don't know." I hedged, wondering just how much of a risk it would be to do things Jarod's way.

"Then consider this---" Jarod took the argument to an entirely new, and completely unfair, level with the simple expedient of capturing my lips for a long, slow kiss.

It was the kind that my memory had stubbornly kept alive night after night in the few dreams I had between nightmares. Dreams that left me in the morning with damp cheeks and empty longings and doubts about my ability to expunge him from my life.

"Not fair." I breathed when we surfaced for air.

"All's fair in love and war." He breathed back and recaptured my lips, obviously feeling the need to hammer home his point.

I stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and willingly conceded the argument.

’After all, Jarod's the genius.’ I reasoned dreamily. ’he knows what he's doing.’

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