Mysterious Connections

Part 4

 

Jarod cautiously sat up in the quiet of the living room and looked at the man who was asleep on the sofa. Standing, he folded the blanket and put the pillow on top of it before placing the items that had constituted his temporary bed on a chair in the corner. Going over, he laid an envelope on the table, removed a key from his pocket and silently placed it on top of the white rectangle. Collecting the bags that waited near the door, Jarod stood for several seconds, his eyes shut, willing away the threatening tears. Finally he opened the door of the apartment and stepped through it, silently closing it behind him.

 

"Going somewhere, big brother?"

 

Jarod started violently at the quietly spoken words, turning to find the technician leaning back against the opposite wall with his arms folded, watching him.

 

"How did you know?"

 

"Lucky guess." Broots stepped forward so that he blocked the stairs. "And why?"

 

"They don't need me anymore. You don't. It's easier this way."

 

"And how is Sydney supposed to recover without a doctor?" the technician demanded.

 

"I'm not a doctor," Jarod protested.

 

"No, but you're the closest thing we've got."

 

"I left a letter explaining what he needs to receive and how often. I also signed the necessary forms for you to get more equipment, should he require it. Like I said, you don't need me."

 

"You promised..."

 

"I promised to stay for as long as he needed me, Broots, and he doesn't. Sydney's recovering because Michelle's here, not because I am. I just seem to have made things worse. He hasn't had a delirious fit since their arrival."

 

"That sounds dangerously like jealousy, Jarod," the technician proposed.

 

"If you want to take it that way..." the other man commented with a shrug.

 

Broots looked at his brother closely. "If you're so jealous of them, why did you bring Michelle back into Sydney's life in the first place?"

 

"For the same reason that I helped you get custody of Debbie before I knew who actually you were, and for the same reason that I told Thomas about Parker. I wanted you to be happy. It's the only thing I've ever wanted."

 

"And what about you?"

 

"I'll be fine. I always am."

 

"Fine?" Broots stared at him in amazement. "You're not fine. You'll leave here - assuming I let you, of course - and find somewhere to worry about Sydney constantly until you learn find out that he's gone back to work again, and then you'll worry more that he's working too hard, but you won't get in touch because it'd be too hard for you, although it’ll be what Sydney wants, because he'll be devastated when he wakes up later this morning to find you missing, and…"

 

"And you're going to be unconscious in a minute if you don't take a breath," the older man put in.

 

"We're talking about you now, not me."

 

"No, you were talking about Sydney, and he's got his family here now, and he'll be a lot better around them than he was around me. Besides, he knows my habits, or he should by this time, and if he's able to think straight then he'll know it was nothing more than he really should have expected, and if he can't think straight then he won't be missing me."

 

"Now who's talking in long sentences without taking a breath?"

 

"Must be genetic."

 

Broots grinned. "Look, make it less painful. Go back in there. No one has to know you've done this except us."

 

Jarod took a firmer grip on his bags. "You can't watch me all the time, and I'll be gone as soon as you turn around, so make this easier and get out of my way. Then you can tell Sydney that I left, but it was my choice because I thought it was better for him, okay?"

 

"Won't you at least leave me a number so he can call you?"

 

"Then you can use it to track me down? I don't think so, Broots. I know what you're capable of. He has my email, as have you, and, when he's back at work, he can send me a message if he wants."

 

The younger man raised an eyebrow. "You think he won't?"

 

"I don't know what he'll want when he recovers. Look, little brother, go back to bed now and pretend this didn't happen. Feign shock tomorrow morning when I'm not here and let me know how things are going, the way we've been doing for the past couple of years. I'll drop the odd hint so that you've still got things to do, okay?"

 

"And Debbie and Emily?"

 

"Give me their address and I'll stop in to see them. If you want, I'll call and let you know how they're getting on. But get this through your genetically thick skull. I'm going, comprends tu?"

 

"You know my French is terrible."

 

Jarod rolled his eyes and took a step forward. "Stop stalling, Broots, and move. I’m leaving this building tonight, and if you keep blocking the stairs, I'll use one of my other escape routes. I didn't move in here without a plan to get out in case a team of sweepers showed up, but I'd rather walk in a civilized manner down the stairs than jump out a window."

 

Reluctantly reaching into his pocket, Broots produced a slip of paper and held it out. " You’ll probably push me down the stairs if I don't, so go. This is the address Em gave me." Broots looked up at his brother. "You will tell me how Debbie is, won't you?"

 

"Sure." Jarod's eyes softened. "You know I will. And… and you'll let me know how Sydney is, right?"

 

"If you want me to."

 

Jarod took the piece of paper and then pulled his brother into a hug. "Thanks."

 

"Miss Parker's going to be furious when she realizes you've gone."

 

"Like that's anything new. Besides, she chose to spend the night at Henry's place rather than mine, so it's her choice."

 

"You know why she made that decision," Broots stated softly.

 

"I wasn't really looking forward to seeing her later today either, so that makes this easier."

 

"If it's so hard..."

 

"I'm doing it anyway." He moved down a few steps and then looked back. "Sleep well, little brother."

 

***

 

"Mom?"

 

"What is it, Nicholas?" Michelle spoke quietly, looking up at her son from her seat beside the bed, her hand in that of the man lying there, placing the book she had been reading facedown on the blanket.

 

"Jarod's gone."

 

"What?!" She stared up at him. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

 

"I mean 'gone' as in not here anymore. His bed's all folded up, and…"

 

"He could have just gone shopping."

 

"And written a letter?" Nicholas offered the envelope. "He left the key to the apartment, too. I don't think he's coming back."

 

"He usually doesn't." The voice from the doorway made the two people turn. "But you're right, Nicholas. He certainly isn't coming back this time."

 

"Why not?" Michelle's eyes were full of concern as she looked at the technician.

 

"He thought he was undoing all the good you were doing by being here."

 

"But... how will we... I mean, Sydney needs him."

 

"Jarod said that his letter would give you all the directions you needed to care for Sydney."

 

"You spoke to him?"

 

"I spent nearly an hour trying to talk him out of it, but Jarod’s pretty stubborn, and he'd already made the decision."

 

Michelle looked at the man closely. "He left because of us, didn't he?"

 

"Ye... well, sort of. He thought you'd be able to care for Sydney better without him."

 

"And when Sydney asks for him?"

 

"You can tell him. After all, we've had five years of Jarod disappearing in front of our eyes. It probably won't be that surprising." Broots leaned against the wall. "I don't think Jarod would have left if he doubted Sydney could recover with only us to look after him. In fact, I know he wouldn't have."

 

"If he does get better."

 

"Jarod talked as though he would and I think he'd know." He glanced at the man who stood at the bedside. "I'm going to make us all some breakfast. Want to give me a hand, Nicholas?"

 

***

 

"They're both fine, Broots. You'll see them soon. I told Em to bring your daughter there but, if you think it's not safe, she can take her away again."

 

"Thanks, Jarod."

 

"And… how's Sydney?"

 

"He's all right but… he hasn't asked about you."

 

"No." Jarod's voice was suddenly strained. "I didn't think he would."

 

Broots heard the dial tone in his ear and disconnected the call, staring at the floor of the room.

 

"Where is he?"

 

"I don't know, Miss Parker. He didn't tell me - well, he wouldn't, would he?"

 

"Why not? You are his brother."

 

"All the more reason." He looked up at her. "When we first discussed this, during the holiday in Paris, Jarod suggested that to avoid a conflict of interest I should transfer to a different area of the Centre. I've been trying to organize it ever since, without telling them my real reason for it, though, but the Triumvirate always said I couldn't do it until you knew about my application." He hesitated for a moment. "As soon as we get back to the Centre, I'm telling them that you do."

 

"And,” the woman’s tones were sharp. “Why?”

 

"I can't keep chasing my brother, Miss Parker. Particularly not considering that whether you’re aware of it or not, you already changed the way you treat me, and I don't want to try and work with that."

 

"Great, so first I lose Sydney and then you."

 

"You haven't lost Sydney. When he recovers, I've got no doubt he'll want to keep working with you." His voice softened. "After all, he cares about you."

 

"And you'll help Jarod to stay out of the Centre, telling him if we're getting close."

 

"You've just stated my real reason for leaving the pursuit, Miss Parker, but we both know how much danger I'd be in if I did that, and how much danger it would put Debbie in, which would be worse. No, I'll get the transfer to Corporate and have no idea of what you're up to so I can't help him."

 

"And that will tell the Triumvirate that you both know."

 

"That won't make any difference. The Centre already has a firm enough hold on me for me to keep working to the best of my abilities but I just can't do this to my brother. The last eighteen months have been hell." He stood up and met her eye. "I'm not living like that any more."

 

***

 

"Henry, did you know that...?"

 

"Jarod left? Yes." He held up a small piece of paper. "This was in my mailbox this morning."

 

"What is it?"

 

"A note thanking me for my help with Sydney." Henry glanced at her. "It's a pity you didn't get to tell him you were sorry for what you said."

 

"And you think I was going to?"

 

"If he'd let you, yes. I just hope you get the chance at some time, because it'll be bad for both of you if you don't."

 

"Uh, excuse me, Henry?"

 

The man turned to the newcomer in the doorway. "Yes, Broots, what's up?"

 

"We need a hand."

 

"Sure." The man got to his feet. "What with?"

 

"That bed-raising thing you made. We're not 100% sure how to work it."

 

"Jarod didn't leave you directions in the letter?"

 

"Oh, he did, but they're blurred and the ink ran, so they're kind of hard to read."

 

Henry nodded slowly before glancing at Miss Parker. "Like I said, he can be really transparent sometimes."

 

***

 

"Daddy!"

 

"Hi Debbie." Broots hugged the girl as she ran into the room. "How's my girl?"

 

"I missed you."

 

"I missed you, too, sweetie, but you had fun with your aunt, right?"

 

"Yup." The girl grinned. "I even managed to beat her at chess."

 

Broots glanced at his half-sister. "Weren't you concentrating, Em?"

 

"Jarod turned up just before we finished and - distracted me."

 

The man nodded and then looked down at his daughter. "And did you play it with him too?"

 

"Uh huh. But he won."

 

"That's no great surprise."

 

Debbie ran over Miss Parker as she appeared in the doorway and Broots took a seat opposite Emily. "How was he?"

 

"Terrible. I've never seen him in such a state."

 

"You've hardly ever seen him,” the technician retorted.

 

"You know what I mean, Broots. It took him every trick he knew to beat Debbie and that would normally be a walkover for him."

 

"I was afraid that might happen." He eyed the floor for a second before looking at her. "Did he say where was he going?"

 

"He didn't know. He said he'd just drive around for a while and take a break."

 

Broots nodded slowly. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid."

 

"You know what I'm worried he might do?"

 

"Hand himself in to Lyle," the man guessed shrewdly.

 

"Exactly."

 

"Oh, come on." The words came from the woman who walked over to join them and sat next to Emily. "As if Jarod would willingly do that."

 

"He's not thinking straight, Parker. He might do anything."

 

"Then we should find him."

 

"You've got no hope. Jarod would show himself to Lyle before he appeared to one of us at the moment."

 

"Oh really?" Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "And why?"

 

Emily looked up. "The sight of one of you would make him think of Sydney, and that's the one person he doesn't want to be reminded of."

 

"Besides, Parker, where would you look?” Broots put in. “You've got no clues and he didn't tell either of us anything - so how would you go about it?"

 

***

 

"How's he doing?"

 

"Slowly improving." Michelle looked up. "I think you were right, Broots. I think he will recover."

 

"As I said, Jarod wouldn't have left if he thought that Sydney was going to die."

 

"He didn't tell you anything when he called?"

 

"His voice told me plenty, but no." Broots stared at the floor. "What, exactly, was in that letter? I never got a chance to read it, except trying to decipher the writing about the bed."

 

"Here." She handed it to him. "We'll need it back when you're done, if you don't mind, Broots. I can't memorize it all."

 

"I wouldn't expect you to." Broots placed a hand on Michelle's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'll bring it back as soon as I'm finished with it."

 

"M... Michelle?"

 

"Yes, Sydney." As Broots moved to the door, she leaned over the bed. "I'm here."

 

"Are you... staying...?"

 

"Of course I am." She gently stroked the side of his face and he opened his eyes, turning his head to look her. "I'm not leaving you, not until you get better."

 

"I... will...?"

 

"We think so, but you have to want to as well."

 

"I'll try..." The man's voice was faint as his eyes closed, but there was a smile on his lips, just visible under the mask.

 

***

 

"Well?"

 

"As clinical and unfeeling as a medical report." Broots threw the letter down onto the table. "It is a medical report - medicines and doses, times for giving them, a list of possible equipment and circumstances in which they may need to be used, and times to change what we already are using - the oxygen and humidifier. He also includes some details about the bed-head and angles to set it at what times. Last, but not least, a dietary plan for what Sydney should eat as soon as he can."

 

"So he didn't care..."

 

"Miss Parker, please!" Henry glared at the woman, his eyes glittering in frustration. "That's the most stupid thing I think you've probably ever said. Of course he cares - too much. If he didn't care, Jarod would still be here, still pretending to be a doctor. Stop trying to make your actions sound better by adapting his feelings to suit them."

 

Broots waited for a storm of words that he expected to follow this, but there was no response. His sister looked up. "Are you happy for me to leave Debbie here, or do you want me to keep her with me?"

 

"Are you leaving, too?"

 

"Yes." Emily turned to Miss Parker. "I'm going to see if I can find him - or he might have got in contact with Dad."

 

"Or you might be able to find Mom."

 

"It's possible, yes." She got to her feet. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

 

"Thanks, Em." Broots hugged her. "And if we hear from him, I'll let you know."

 

"Good." The woman picked up her bag and bent down to hug Debbie. "Be good for your dad, sweetie."

 

"I always am, Auntie."

 

"I know." Emily smiled and left the apartment. Broots walked over to the window and waved as she got into a car and drove off. Then he turned.

 

"Parker, we need to go back to the Centre."

 

She stared at him. "Are you mad?"

 

"No, but that trail I set for Lyle is going to run out by tomorrow, at the latest, and it wouldn't take us more than three days to go through a city of this size, even with just three of us."

 

"Two," she corrected immediately.

 

"They don't know there's only two. They think Sydney was working with us," the man retorted.

 

"But we can't leave..."

 

"Why not?" Broots demanded. "What good are we doing by being here? Besides, Jarod's not here, so there's no problem with the Centre knowing about Sydney being sick. We go back, say he fell ill during the search, but we got somebody to take care of him, and we'll probably get time off to come back and look after him. After all, the way we feel about him isn't exactly a big secret."

 

She looked at him closely. "And are you going to come back here with me or stay and get that transfer of yours?"

 

"I'll come back. When Sydney's better, then..."

 

"So how am I supposed to even come close to catching Jarod without you there to help?" she interrupted in frustration.

 

"You'll get another technician, Miss Parker. Put in your application and I’m sure that you'll find somebody. Probably somebody who doesn't jump three feet in the air each time you walk into the room, but I'm sure you'll be able to train them to do so." Broots glanced up at her from his examination of the floor. "I'll hand over all of my things and they can take up where I left off."

 

"But you'll keep in contact with Jarod."

 

"Only as much as you or Sydney did. We've been sending emails back and forth intermittently for the last two years but we've hardly ever seen each other. That’s not going to change." He caught Henry's eye and tried to smile. "Jarod's won’t risk his own safety, mine or Debbie's by turning up at my house for afternoon tea every Sunday, will he?"

 

"But..."

 

The conversation was interrupted as Broots' phone rang. Quickly answering it, the technician already believed he knew the identity of his caller.

 

"Jarod? Is that you?"

 

"Lyle just got back to the Centre."

 

"You're not with him, are you?"

 

There was a pause. "No. I didn't do that."

 

"But you thought about it."

 

"Stop reading my mind, little brother. It'll make me too easy to catch."

 

"Emily's looking for you."

 

"She won't find me."

 

"Jarod, don't do anything stupid. Please. If anything happened to you, it’d devastate Mom."

 

There was another pause. "All right, Broots."

 

At this point, Miss Parker snatched the phone out of his hand. "Jarod? Jarod, I..." She looked over, lowering the device.

 

"He hung up?" the technician proposed.

 

"Yes."

 

"He's still angry with you." Henry looked up from his seat on the sofa. "And I can't say I blame him."

 

Miss Parker paused for a moment before looking over at Broots. "We need to get back to the Centre."

 

***

 

"That didn't take long."

 

"They didn't need much persuasion." Broots grinned at Nicholas as he stood at the stove and stirred a saucepan. "And Miss Parker didn't give them time to say a lot anyway."

 

"No," Nicholas responded with a smile. "She wouldn't."

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Making something for Dad to eat."

 

"He's hungry?"

 

"Not really, but Jarod's letter suggested it’s probably time to give him a light meal." Nicholas sighed. "I just wish he was here so that we'd know if we were doing the right thing."

 

"So call in somebody else,” Broots suggested. “That is your prerogative."

 

"I... I suggested that to Mom, but..." Nicholas turned off the heat and then looked over at the technician. "Somehow it feels like betraying Jarod to do that."

 

Broots nodded understandingly. "Now you know how I've been feeling, ever since I found out that he’s my brother."

 

Nicholas nodded slowly. "Do you think he knew that would happen?"

 

"Probably,” the technician admitted. “Jarod's very good at working out consequences."

 

"Nicholas?"

 

The two men turned to see Henry in the doorway, holding a letter.

 

"What is it?"

 

"This just came for you, special delivery."

 

Broots watched as the young man took the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the single page and unfolding it, his eyes running quickly over the words.

 

"Well?"

 

"Directions for how we'll know whether Dad's ready to eat what I've made or if we need to wait longer." Nicholas gave the note to Broots, smiling faintly. "He's not just ‘very good at working out consequences’. I think your brother's psychic as well."
 

Part 5

 

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