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Smoke and Mirrors

© Rebeckah

Jarod froze uneasily in the middle of mixing a "Prairie Fire", trying to identify the danger his senses were screaming that he was in. Suddenly he caught a flash of glossy auburn hair swinging back in a familiar movement. (Oh, God, no!) He thought numbly. (How the hell did she find me so fast?) He looked over, tobasco sauce still poised in mid air and saw the unmistakable back of his childhood friend and adulthood nemesis, Miss Parker. Even though his instinct shrilly demanded he flee instantly, if not sooner, Jarod paused for a moment to look her over.

Tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever; legs that were displayed to perfection in one of her customary, barely-preserve-your-modesty mini-skirts and absurdly high heels. Her body was perfectly proportioned, her movements, even on the heels, were as graceful as a dancer’s, and her face was something you would expect to see sculpted into a Grecian statue. Her face---Wait a minute! That’s *not* Parker’s face!

Jarod blinked slowly, his hand finally setting down the bottle of red sauce while he gazed dumfounded at the woman who was so like Parker. Emerald green eyes glared coldly at him from a face set into lines of disdain that would have done Parker proud before one slender shoulder shrugged and she turned her back on him with a flip of her dark hair that was pure Parker.

"Buddy, you going to finish that drink before Christmas?" His customer demanded harshly, bringing Jarod back to the task at hand.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." Jarod looked blankly at the drink and tried to remember if he’d already added the hot red sauce that put the "fire" into it. Oh well, he decided with a quirk of his lips, too much is never enough, and he cheerfully added a bit more before placing the drink in front of the beefy man. Then, his eyes drawn against his will, he looked back where the woman had been, barely noting the customer choking and gasping after his first taste of the drink. He found himself battling a surprising wave of disappointment when he realized she was gone.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?" The man sputtered, his face almost as red as the tobasco sauce in his drink.

"Hmmm?" Jarod didn’t really register the question. "Jo, can you cover for me for a few?" He asked suddenly, moved by an impulse that he didn’t trust, but couldn’t resist.

"You don’t stand a chance with her." Jo chortled gleefully.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Jarod answered with quiet dignity. Jo’s laughter sputtered merrily, making her opinion of Jarod’s claim to ignorance clear.

"Go on, get out of here. Get it out of your system." She waved him off with a flip of the dishtowel she’d been using to polish the beer mugs. "I can probably hold down the fort for the rest of the night if you do get lucky."

Jarod smiled, a boyish expression of gratitude and uninhibited joy that drew the admiring gaze of every woman in the smoky bar, attached or not, including Josephine Bartlett, the other bartender. Several of the other women there, all obviously searching for a partner of their own, gave the petite bartender looks that seemed to ask when she’d been released from the mental institution and why. Jo glared at one, tossed back her blue-black hair, which had been confined in a thick braid, and tossed out a defensive;

"Some of us aren’t on the prowl!"

"Honey, for a piece of that, I’d consider leaving my Bob." Another woman called back, even though she was snuggled into a loving embrace with another man. He took her comment in good humor though, just giving his head a long-suffering shake and her a mildly chiding smile.

"Thanks, Jo, I owe you." Jarod threw over his shoulder, missing the by-play in single minded focus on the strange woman. In fact, he was so focused that he didn’t hear any of the rowdy, slightly raunchy, discussion that sprang up following one woman’s suggestion to Jo as to what she should accept as payment from Jarod. Jo, who at 25 looked closer to 17, and had the innocent looking countenance of a teenager, turned the air blue with her genial comebacks.

Inside the restaurant that the bar was attached to, Jarod looked around the tables until he spotted his quarry, sitting alone. He couldn’t believe his luck, not only was she there, but she was unescorted as well. Jarod made his way towards her table, reasoning that an open approach was the best approach.

"Excuse me." He told the woman as she glared forbiddingly at him. "May I join you for a minute?"

"Look, buddy, just because a woman is eating alone at a restaurant it doesn’t mean that she’s available to be picked up by every male on the prowl around her." Jarod ignored this discouraging answer and sat in the vacant chair, drawing out an exasperated sight from the woman.

"My name’s Jarod, and I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It’s just that you look amazingly like someone I know." He tried again.

"Let me guess." The woman replied sarcastically. "She’s your childhood sweetheart, you two lost touch and you miss her so much that you want me to have dinner with you just to ease the pain."

"No." Jarod grinned, unconsciously using his most effective little-boy smile. "We *did* grow up together, and she *did* give me my first kiss, but we aren’t, and never were, sweethearts. Quite the opposite in fact."

The woman unbent fractionally.

"Fascinating story." She said neutrally. "So what brings you here?"

"I don’t know." Jarod admitted, still asking himself the same thing and not getting an understandable reply. "I guess that I was so startled by your resemblance to her that I wanted to get to know you better and see if it was more than skin deep."

"And is it?" She asked, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Sometimes you make the same gestures as she does, but you aren’t nearly as cold and forbidding." Jarod answered bluntly, not having learned yet the absolute honesty wasn’t always the best course with a woman. This woman glared at Jarod for a moment before bursting into laughter at his puzzled expression.

"You haven’t a clue as to how to sweet talk a woman, do you?"

"What do you mean, sweet talk?"

"Never mind, honey, it’s just an expression. You can join me for dinner as long as you intend to pay for it." She offered airily. "My name is Melisande, and if you call me Mel I’ll kill you before you can blink twice."

"Okay, Melisande." Jarod grinned, fighting back intense deja-vu.

She had Parker’s fine boned, patrician face, her slender, long-fingered hands, and her creamy complexion. Most unsettling of all, though, she had so many of Parker’s mannerisms. The way she tossed her hair to show disdain, the arched eyebrow and quelling look down that narrow nose of hers, the-----

"Take a picture; it’ll last longer!" The acid voice drew his attention back to the woman in front of him.

"I’m sorry." He flushed guiltily, aware that his introspection, and comparison, wasn’t fair to the other woman. "It’s just that you’re so much like her it’s uncanny."

"Well, I’m NOT your childhood sweetheart, so either pay attention to me, or take a hike." She said firmly, but without any sign of real anger.

"Actually, I have to get back to the bar." He admitted sheepishly. "But I’d like a chance to get to know you----maybe a picnic lunch tomorrow? I’ve always wanted to explore Riverfront Park."

The woman glared, then abruptly laughed, a low, throaty sound that brought a smile to Jarod’s anxious face.

"You really are a character, aren’t you?" She asked rhetorically, bringing a puzzled frown to Jarod’s face. "Nevermind, yes, I’ll have lunch with you."

"Meet me at the foot of the clock tower?" He asked.

"At 1:00." She agreed briskly.

Jarod nodded, and pushed his chair back to make his way back to the bar. At the opening between the two establishments he found himself pausing for one last glance back. She was smilling brilliantly up at the waitress bringing her a before-dinner salad and Jarod felt the impact of that expression like a fist to his stomach. She was beautiful, just like---- He broke that thought off with the ease of long practice and made his way back to the bar. He knew better than to think about what might have been; it would only distract him and divide his focus when he needed it the most.

There was a mystery about Melisande, he reflected, as he took drink orders and mixed them on auto-pilot. She was TOO much like Parker, the odds of that were far too low for him to brush them off. He needed to find out who she was, where she came from, and most of all, what she wanted. At the same time, he felt a surprising amount of tenderness, even protectiveness towards her. He didn’t even really know her, but he was strangely reluctant to do anything that might hurt her.

He filed those thoughts away for further examination later and turned his attention back to his job. He had a mission to accomplish, a family to put back together, and now a new mystery. Sometimes he wondered why he wasn't able to turn away from a challenge---he really didn't need Melisande on his plate when he already had the Centre and his current Pretend, involving Jo and her problems. He knew he wouldn't back away though; Melisande, Jo, and the Centre, somehow he'd manage---he always had before, hadn't he?

*****

"He took the bait." A mild expression of distaste covered Melisande’s beautiful face as she spoke over the cell phone. She listened, her disgust obviously growing deeper.

"Yes, Sir." She managed to keep her revulsion out of her carefully neutral voice as she replied to the instructions from the other end. "We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow. Give me a week and I’ll have him so intrigued that he won’t be able to ignore my----abduction."

She listened again, nodded, her face set grimly, and then disconnected the call without a word. She stared blindly at the untouched salad in front of her, pushed it around aimlessly on the plate, and then put down her fork with a sigh. In that instant her face was covered with a deep sorrow that enhanced her resemblance to Parker more than any of the carefully choreographed movements she’d been using the entire evening. After heaving another, deep sigh she stood decisively to her feet; signaling the waiter to bring her bill directly to the cashier.

"But you haven’t eaten yet!" The waiter protested anxiously, as he reluctantly surrendered the bill. "I assure you, if the salad was unsatisfactory in some way we---"

"The salad was fine." Melisande cut him off brusquely. "I’m---recovering from the flu. I just tried to eat too much too soon." Her lie was quite convincing, and only a true student of human nature would have seen that her apologetic smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The waiter wasn’t such a student, and was mollified by her explanation. He accepted her credit card, and the sizable tip she wrote in, with gratitude, and allowed her to leave without further protest. Then he returned to his duties, thinking that she was surely the most generous and gracious woman he’d ever met. Melisande, on the other hand, completely forgot the man the instant she left the restaurant. Her thoughts were completely consumed with the man she’d been assigned to captivate. They weren’t happy thoughts.

*****

She knelt on the grave, her gun heavy in her hands, and traced the name on the gravestone. Thomas Gates. She was tired of being alone, tired of finding out that what she believed was nothing more than a lie, tired of looking for someone who would love her, who would stay with her…

"Tommy, I’m coming to join you and Mama." She murmured, bringing the gun that had killed him to rest on her temple.

A shot and a cry of denial rang out simultaneously.

"Noooooo!" Jarod bolted to a sitting position before he was even fully awake, his protest still echoing in his ears.

Gradually it sank in that he had been dreaming. His heartbeat began to slow, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. He drew a deep breath and let it out. He hadn’t had this particular nightmare in weeks. Not since he’d helped Parker to discover who’d killed the man she loved, even though neither of them had discovered just who’d ordered the murder. He wondered if it was meeting Melisande that triggered it, and realized that he’d probably never know why his subconscious had resurrected that particular nightmare. He also realized that he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep that night and got up.

A shower, a change of clothes and a new set of sheets for the bed followed in quick succession. Then he opened his laptop and settled down to work. Beside him was the red notebook that held the few clues to the disappearance of Jo’s husband and infant daughter.

FLIGHT OR FOUL PLAY? The caption of the newspaper clipping queried. It went on to suggest that Josephine Bartlett was responsible for her husband and child’s disappearance. Later clippings indicated that Jo had actually been held by the police who were also willing to believe she’d managed to kill them and completely dispose of the evidence. It was only the lack of evidence that eventually led to her freedom, although the taint of suspicion had followed her until she moved from Seattle, where the incident had taken place, to Spokane, where she opened a bar with their savings account.

It had been a year since the two had disappeared on their way to visit Stephen Bartlett’s parents in Yakima. The older Bartletts had actually been the first to point the finger at Jo, claiming that Stephen had been on the verge of divorcing her and getting custody of their daughter, and that Jo had murdered them rather than lose them. Jarod had actually examined that accusation, but as he stared at a picture of Jo, her hair tumbling wildly down her back, her face wet, and her eyes red and swollen with countless tears, he’d known that she had nothing to do with their disappearance. He’d also known that he had to get her family back for her---or, at least find out what had happened to them.

He’d been working for Jo for the past month, trying to pry a clue from her that would give him something more to investigate, but she flatly refused to talk about her missing family. The one time Jarod had tried to press her she’d threatened to fire him if he brought up the subject again. Her expression had held fury, but her eyes had held the same devastating sorrow that Jarod felt when he thought of his family. He’d dropped the subject, but not the case. Somehow he was going to find out what had happened to those two---clues or no clues.

He’d already tracked down Jo and Steve’s friends on the coast, and their stories had been diametrically opposed to the one told by Steve’s parents.

"Those two were more in love than anyone I’d ever seen." Steve’s co-worker had claimed, shaking his head sadly.

"Yeah," Another had agreed. "And all those years they tried to have a baby. A lot of marriages fail when they find out they can’t have kids the good old fashioned way, but they just seemed to get closer."

"Jo’s sun rose and set with Steve and Midori." Jo’s best friend had shared later, tears for her friend shining in her eyes. "She’d never hurt them----never!"

Jarod had heard the same sentiments recited over and over and over again. The only opposing testimony was from people who’d obviously had some complaint against the couple. Possibly they’d even been paid to stir up trouble for Jo by Steve’s parents. But no one who’d been close to the younger Bartletts had anything negative to say to him.

Finally Jarod was left with one clue. The center where Steve and Jo had gone for help in conceiving their child. The Reproductive Centre of the Northwest, located in Spokane, Washington. The fact that Jo had moved to Spokane as soon as she was free indicated that she suspected them of the disappearance of her family too. What she didn’t know, that Jarod did, was that the Reproductive Centre was linked to the same clinic that Jarod’s parents had gone to so many years ago. The connection was buried under countless layers of false companies and investors, but it was there. Jarod fought a wave of black depression as he wondered just how many branches and layers of the Centre he would find in his search for his family.

Several hours later, his searching had led him to countless dead ends and a splitting headache, and it was time for him to leave to meet with Melisande. In fact, it was past time! If he was going to show up on time for their meeting he’d have to pick up their picnic somewhere along the way.

He showed up ten minutes late with a bag full of Chinese takeout from one of the many downtown stores. Melisande was standing, foot tapping impatiently, and looked ready to breath fire.

"Sorry, long line." Jarod held up the bag apologetically. Melisande considered that, and then pointed at the bag.

"If you’ve got sweet-n-sour prawns in there I might forgive you." She relented.

"Of course I do!" Jarod returned with mock indignation. "And sweet-n-sour chicken, and, of course, pork with dipping sauce."

"The red horseradish sauce?" An expression of genuine anticipation crossed her face. Jarod allowed a smile of satisfaction to touch his lips and gestured with his head to the expanse of green grass gently sloping uphill north of the clock tower. He led her to a roofed picnic area at the top of the grassy hill and spread out their face on a blue picnic table.

"So," he began through a mouthful of stir fried vegetables. "Who are you, Melisande?"

"I beg your pardon?" Melisande choked.

"Well, I figure we could dance around the truth that you’re somehow connected to the Centre, or I could save some time and just come out and ask you what the game is this time?"

"I don’t know what---"

"I’m talking about?" Jarod finished for her dryly. "Please, Melisande, don’t insult my intelligence. It’s my brains that the Centre wants anyway, so it’s pretty stupid of them to believe I wouldn’t notice your obviously engineered resemblance to Miss Parker. So tell me, which of the idiots running the place came up with this idea? And what are they hoping to accomplish?"

Melisande darted a furtive, panicked look around them. They were alone as far as she could see, and the rushing water of the river behind them would probably mask their conversation, but she was terrified anyway.

"Don’t worry, I picked this spot very carefully. No one can sneak up on us," he gestured meaningfully towards the open grass around them, "and the water will cover anything we say to any long distance microphones. Besides, I have an electronic jammer on me."

"A jammer?" Her tone was sarcastic enough to bring Miss Parker forcefully back into his mind.

"Just a toy I rigged up. It’ll disrupt any attempts at electronic surveillance. Now, are you going to talk? Or do I walk?"

Melisande looked at him assessingly, but with strong undertones of fear. Finally she sighed, and her shoulders slumped briefly before she remembered that she could still be watched, even if she couldn’t be heard.

"Parker doesn’t know about me." She started hesitantly. "But I’m told I’m her sister."

"Told by whom?" Jarod demanded suspiciously.

"I don’t know. I’ve never actually been to the Centre. He called me; the day after----" Melisande’s voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. She fought to keep them from spilling over.

"The day after?" Jarod prompted.

"I have a daughter." Melisande whispered, closing her eyes. Two tears slid down her cheeks. "She was taken six months ago; the night of her fourth birthday."

"Damn them!" Jarod swore, his hand fisting with a rage that he knew he couldn’t express openly at the moment.

"They said I’d never see her again if I didn’t help them. They sent me video’s of Miss Parker, told me to study her, to learn to imitate her movements, and to be ready for my assignment. After I’d done as they wanted for two months a man showed up at my apartment." Melisande broke off again and shuddered.

"He frightened you?" Jarod guessed, having a suspicion of just who this person was.

"Yes. He didn’t look openly evil or anything; in fact, he looked like your average, clean cut, guy next door, but something about the way he looked at me…"

"Was his left thumb missing?"

"I don’t know." Melisande seemed startled by the question. "I tried not to look at him."

"It doesn’t matter." Jarod waved off his question. "What do they expect you to accomplish?"

"They want me to capture your attention. Maybe make you fall in love with me. Then I’ll be "abducted" and you’ll want to come and rescue me. It will be a trap, of course."

"And, should that fail, they’ve done their best to make sure that your own daughter arouses my sympathies. Did they tell you that they kidnapped me when I was four?" Jarod asked bitterly.

"No." Melisande’s emerald eyes gleamed with sympathy.

"Was your daughter really smart, by any chance?"

"Yes!" Once again Melisande was startled. "She’s a genius. But I wouldn’t listen to the psychiatrists who tried to get me to enroll her in special schools. In fact, I’m---I was, home-schooling her."

"Did she seem especially talented in any particular area?" Jarod’s curiosity was firmly aroused now.

"She was fascinated by nature, anatomy, how things work together. I used to let her spend two hours, three days a week, with our local vet. Chuck said that she’d surpassed him in the first three months and that he saved all of his most puzzling patients for her. She was a whiz at figuring out what was wrong with them. He used to joke that it was almost as if she could speak directly to them." Melisande smiled through her tears. "I had to find homes for the menagerie of snakes, pigeons, and stray cats that she’d rescued and nursed to health. I’m sure there would have been more, but I drew the line at rats, and mice, and anything larger than a cat."

"She sounds very special, Melisande." Jarod covered her hand gently. "What’s her name?"

"Kiara. Her name is Kiara. I just hope she isn’t too scared." With that Melisande broke down completely.

Meal forgotten, Jarod moved around the table and gathered Melisande into his arms while she sobbed out months of fear and grief.

"Don’t worry, Melisande." He promised earnestly as he tried to comfort her. "We’ll fix it. I promise, we’ll fix it."

Of course, in the privacy of his own thoughts he had to wonder just how he could keep this promise. Had he finally bitten off more than he could chew? There was no way of knowing, but his apprehension was growing fast.

*****

"Miss Parker, may I have a word with you?" Raines’ gravely voice stopped Parker short in the marbled foyer of the Centre. A grimace of distaste covered her face before she composed herself and turned to face the man she probably hated most in the world.

"Can I stop you?" She questioned pointedly. "Because I really have nothing to say to you, and I doubt that you have anything to say to me that I care to hear."

"Not even the truth?" Raines asked, unfazed by her rude response. Parker emitted a brief burst of mirthless laughter.

"You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the---" She glanced down at his backside suggestively before finishing the sentence, "foot." She grinned mockingly as he flushed slightly.

"I am not the one of us who cannot see what is right before me." He grated irritably. "Will you listen?"

"Okay, spit it out." Parker agreed flatly. "But don’t expect me to believe your garbage."

"This would be better said in private. Will you walk on the grounds with me?"

"No." Parker ground out. "It’s here and now, or never. Personally, I prefer never."

"I know you don’t believe I really found the Lord in Africa." Raines began, reining in his temper with visible effort, "but He truly did save me then, and I truly have changed."

"You were blind and now you see----fine, can I go now?" Parker scoffed.

"Meredith, listen to me!" Raines hissed, shocking Parker to her toes with his use of her first name. "You have a sister, and your father----"

"Angel!" Mr. Parker’s jovial voice rang across the hustle and bustle of the busy foyer and stopped Raines in mid-sentence. His face smoothed over into an expressionless mask and he slowly moved away from Parker, throwing a strangely pleading look over his shoulder at her as he mouthed;

"Later."

"Was Raines bothering you, Angel?" Mr. Parker demanded, frowning at the other man’s retreating back.

"No, Daddy." Parker returned absently, staring thoughtfully after the same man. "It was just his usual: "Have you found God?", nonsense. Maybe they should have kept him in Africa."

"Maybe they should have." Mr. Parker agreed with uncharacteristic grimness. Parker shot him a startled look, and he immediately backpedaled.

"I was wondering if you’d join me for dinner tonight." He asked with overdone humility. "Your baby brother, though he’s the apple of my eye, just isn’t much companionship for a lonely old man."

"How’s he doing?" Parker asked, diverted from her focus on Raines. Her eyes took on a warm, soft glow of tenderness that roused a surprising pang of envy in Mr. Parker. It had been a long time since she’d looked at him with that much affection.

"He’s doing great!" He told her after he’d cleared his throat. "Gained another six ounces last week."

"Yes, Daddy," Parker answered his earlier question and bestowed a loving look on her father, almost as if she’d known his earlier thoughts. "I’ll have dinner with you tonight. We haven’t had much time together lately, have we?"

"That’s my fault, Angel." Mr. Parker avowed hastily. "What with Brigitte dying and a new baby and trying to jump back in the saddle here at the Centre, I just haven’t seemed to have a moment to spare. But that’s all going to change as of tonight. Shall we say 8:00?"

"8:00 would be fine, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting with Syd and Broots. I’ll see you tonight, okay?"

"Be sure you do!" Mr. Parker accepted her quick kiss on his cheek and beamed after her until the elevator doors closed on her. The moment she was out of sight his smile vanished and he glared suspiciously down the corridor that had swallowed up Raines. With a shake of his head he strode purposefully down that same corridor

*****

"No, Sir, it didn’t work out the way you thought it would." Melisande’s voice was low and controlled, allowing none of the trepidation she was feeling to show. "He wanted to know who I was and why I look so much like Miss Parker------of course I didn’t tell him who I was! I told him I didn’t know who Miss Parker was."

Melisande fell silent at a spate of words from the other end of the line and her hand clenched the phone so tightly that the knuckles turned white. Her face paled as the words continued.

"No! Please!" She gasped suddenly. "I swear, he’s still interested in me. I told him about Kiara---that she’d been taken. He promised to help me. You can still get him!"

She paused, chest heaving and tears glittering in her eyes as the other spoke again.

"I promise." She said at last, sincerity dripping from each word. "I’ll do exactly what you say, just, please, don’t do anything to Kiara! Okay, okay, I will." Her voice broke on a sob as her thumb hit the button disconnecting the call. The tears in her eyes broke free and began sliding down her cheeks as her shoulders slumped with dispair. She could manage a facade of Parker’s cool exterior, but in reality her emotions were strong and ran close to the surface. The loss of her daughter had devastated her, and the deception she was being forced to practice further broke her spirit.

But, like Parker, she had a core of solid steel. After a very short storm of tears she collected herself, and began preparing for a very special meeting. She hadn’t had a chance to tell her master that she and Jarod were meeting in the bar tonight, but she was sure that whoever was watching her would pass the information on later. Maybe that would be enough to keep her precious child safe. Please, God, she thought fervently, keep my Kiara safe for me!

*****

"I hear the sound of giants falling, Miss Parker."

"Jarod, go torment someone else for a while, okay? I’ve had a hard day and I’m not in the mood for your games."

"They aren’t *my* games, Miss Parker." Jarod’s voice was arrogantly smooth as he jabbed at his childhood friend. "Someone else made up this macabre little contest and they keep changing the rules as we go along don’t they?"

"Jarod, what the hell are you after?" Parker sighed, unaccountably weary. "I just don’t have energy to fight with you right now."

"I don’t want us to fight anymore, Parker." Jarod’s voice turned completely somber and there was no mistaking his sincerity. "I actually just wanted to let you know that I might be revisiting the old homestead sometime soon, and hoped that we might actually get together if I do."

"Jarod, no more puzzles! If you have something to say, just say it!"

"Parker, when was the last time you had your house exterminated?" Jarod asked gravely before hanging up on her.

Parker sighed again as she hung up the phone. Her head was pounding with a ferocity that called for her stronger pain pills. The ones with the wonderful, tension relieving muscle relaxers in them. She stumbled towards her bathroom, a half full glass of scotch dangling loosely from her hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind the headache, she knew she shouldn’t take her medication on top of an empty stomach of booze, but it was a knowledge that didn’t have the energy to fight past the pain and make itself heard. Parker was just washing down two pills when the front door bell sounded.

"Damn!" She cursed half-heartedly before turning to answer the door. The sight of Broots’ permanently anxious visage did nothing to improve her mood.

"C’m in Broots." She reluctantly invited him, turning without waiting for his response to settle onto the couch. Once there she laid her on her arm, resting on the arm of the couch, and fixed a jaundiced eye on her colleague.

"And just what piece of peace destroying news do you have for me, Brootsie?" She asked, only slurring her words slightly.

"Um, I need you to come with me, Miss Parker." Broots urged timidly.

"No," Parker’s answer was exhaled on a heavy sigh of relief as the powerful drug began to work on her system. "I think I’ll go to bed in a minute. Just spit it out. Be a man, Brootsie."

She giggled silently at her wit, and looked sleepily at Broots. She giggled again, this time out-loud, at the look of worry on his face.

"What’s-a-matter, Brootsie? Did Raines follow you home?"

"Miss Parker, what did you take?" He demanded, seeming to grow a few inches as he drew himself up.

"I have a headache." Parker explained with the gravity that only a profoundly drunk or drugged person can manage.

"What did you take?" He demanded again.

"My headache pills." Parker was quite puzzled by Broots’ agitation, but feeling far to comfortable and disconnected by now to really worry about it.

Her head lowered to rest on her arm again, and her eyes slid shut as Broots bustled off into her bathroom to search it.

She wasn’t asleep, just drifting quite contentedly in a placid, peaceful place, when Broots’ insistent shaking of her shoulders pulled her back.

"Wha’?!" She mumbled irritably, opening one eye to glare briefly at her tormentor.

"Are these what you took?" Broots demanded, thrusting her prescription bottle in front of her eyes.

"Of course." She muttered, eyes sliding shut to welcome back the peace but Broots shook her again.

"How many?" He demanded.

"Two!" She grumbled. "Wha’ you think I am? Stupid?"

"How much did you drink before you took them?"

Parker slapped listlessly at his insistent hand on her shoulder and slid bonelessly down to lay entirely on the couch.

"Park! Parker, how many drinks?" Broots shouted urgently.

"Just two." Parker whispered, never opening her eyes. "Now let me sleep."

"Oh, God!" Broots groaned, looking from Parker, to the scotch decanter, to the pills in his hands. Finally he grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number with shaking hands.

"Sydney?" He tried to keep his voice steady as the other person answered. "I think we have a problem…"

*****

"So," Jo said, watching Melisande cautiously from the other side of the table. "You’ve got the same problem I do."

"Apparently." Melisande agreed with equal caution. The three of them were the only occupants of the bar which had closed for business an hour earlier.

"Look, ladies, you two are going to have to help each other." Jarod said briskly, looking from one to the other with determination. "I’m going to be out of touch with everyone pretty soon, and you’re going to have to be there for each other, do you understand?"

"No." Both women spoke at the same time, which seemed to break the ice with them. They smiled briefly at each other before turning their attention back to Jarod.

"What, exactly, are you trying to tell us?" Jo asked bluntly.

"You both know that I think the Centre is behind all of this, right?" Jarod clarified. Both women nodded and he went on. "Well, I think there’s a little more to this little scenario than just your daughters being kidnapped. This situation was tailor-made to lure me in. I expect that sooner or later the people pulling the strings will manage to get their hands on me---they know that even if I figure out what’s going on that I won’t walk away from this mess. So, when I’m in their hands, you two will need to depend on each other. Is that clear enough?"

Both women nodded, Melisande wearing a very thoughtful look on her face.

"So what is your plan?" She asked, staring at Jarod as if she could see right through the skin and bone covering his extraordinary brain and see what he was thinking for herself. Jarod gave her a smile, fraught with understanding, and nodded his approval.

"Melisande, they’ve promised to bring you to your daughter if you deliver me to them, haven’t they?"

"Yes." She admitted guiltily.

"I don’t think they’ll keep their promise, but they might. If they do, it will be up to you to see if Jo’s husband and daughter are in the same place----if they are, you’ll have to contact Jo and let her know."

"How am I supposed to manage that?"

"I’ll explain some options to you in detail later---I’m going to your motel room with you after this little strategy session."

Melisande looked even guiltier. But Jarod’s smile never wavered. Jo looked from one to the other, wondering just what was going on.

"Jo, if Melisande and I both vanish you need to be prepared to come to our assistance at a moment’s notice. Stay here, your bar will be our meeting place and message place if we get separated. In this envelope----" Jarod pushed a manila envelope across the table to her, "is a list of all the people connected to the Centre, their relation to me, how to contact them, and how much I trust them. Memorize the information and then burn it---I don’t know how tight the surveillance is on you yet and I don’t want you or the people in this list compromised, okay?"

Jo nodded her head, still uncertain as to what Jarod was really trying to tell her, but accepting the envelope anyway.

"Melisande, if your contact doesn’t keep his word to you, I want you to find your sister. You need to tell her everything, but you need to find her and contact her circumspectly. You’d both be in serious danger if anyone at the Centre suspected you were about to meet each other---do you understand?"

Melisande nodded somberly.

"This envelope has all the information on your sister that I know of that might help you contact her. If you DO get to join Kiara, you are still going to have to try to reach your sister. She works for the Centre---"

Melisande’s indrawn breath of horror cut him off, but he continued firmly before she could say anything.

"She was raised within it, just like me, but I don’t think that the Centre has truly claimed her, yet. You have to try and reach her, but once again, be careful. The Centre is ruthless and neither of you will live long if they discover your mission. In the meantime," here Jarod caught her eyes and stared at her intently, as if he could imprint some unspoken message directly into her mind, "do what you have to do to survive and protect your loved ones---both of you."

"I don’t understand." Jo breathed, forehead knotted with confusion. "Jarod, you almost sound like you expect to die."

"I expect anything, Jo, anything. You two need to be ready for anything too."

"I understand, Jarod." Melisande responded, her eyes still locked with his. "I’ll help Jo understand too."

"Good." Jarod broke their eye contact and grinned, transforming his grim expression into one of boyish cheer in an instant. "In that case, Jo, I think Melisande and I should get ourselves out of here."

"Soonest begun is soonest done?" Jo questioned with gentle teasing. Jarod looked puzzled as he turned her phrase over in his head.

"You know," He told Jo seriously, "that would make a really good proverb."

Jo shook her head and laughed, and shooed the other two out of her bar

"I’ll be back tomorrow." Melisande told Jo at the door. "With news of some sort."

The two women smiled at each other, strangers who’d been turned into friends by the bonds of shared problems. Jarod watched, satisfied that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to.

*****

"So, Melisande, care for stroll down the Bicentennial?" Jarod asked as they walked out of Jo’s Bar.

"At this time of night?" She exclaimed in horror.

The Bicentennial is a trail that follows the route taken by the early settlers through Idaho and Eastern Washington on their way to Western Washington. Of course, it only goes about ten miles west of Spokane, but it does go east nearly to the Idaho border. Since they were downtown, Melisande assumed Jarod referred to the scenic stretch of trail that ran along the Spokane River through Riverfront Park.

It was beautiful, but one could hardly enjoy it at three in the morning, and the heart of Riverfront Park isn’t a healthy place to be after dark. It tended to be a haven for the homeless, criminal, and suicidal element of the rural metropolis. Jarod, however, laughed and threw an amused look at his companion.

"There’s a nice stretch that runs by Gonzaga University." He clarified for her. "It should be reasonably safe, even now."

Melisande studied him, trying again to read his message he had carefully hidden behind his words. She’d picked up his message during their meeting; that he knew she was supposed to betray him into the hands of his enemies. Further, she realized that he had essentially forgiven her in advance, if not actually given her permission! If he wanted them to walk along a secluded path that most people avoided after dark, then he had to have a good reason for it. She nodded, trying to keep her reluctance hidden. The knowing grin on Jarod’s face, however, indicated that she hadn’t succeeded at that.

"You know, don’t you?" She asked, as they strolled along the narrow, paved pathway.

A full moon illuminated the warm summer night, so it was easy for them to see where they were going. Jarod threw her a sober glance, and then looked back along the trail.

"Yes." He agreed softly. "I almost wish I didn’t."

"Jarod, I’m----"

"I know." Jarod cut her off quietly. "At least your reasons for cooperating are good ones. Your sister…"

"Tell me about her." Melisande asked earnestly. "Is she really my sister? What’s she like? Why does she work for them?"

"Yes, she’s really your sister. Your mother was allowed to give birth to her and your brother Lyle. You, however, were implanted in a surrogate parent without your mother’s knowledge."

"But I was adopted!"

"Your surrogate father worked for the Centre, his wife didn’t know about it or the fact that you were not her biological child. Eventually, your father reached a point where he couldn’t work for the Centre anymore----the Centre does that to you, you know. It brings any person with a shred of decency in him to the point where he has to choose between his ethics and his life. Your father was a good man; he chose his ethics."

"He was killed?" Melisande was clearly horrified and Jarod knew she was starting to fear the Centre even more than before. He went on with his narrative---the more afraid of the Centre she was, the more likely she was to survive this encounter.

"He went to his wife first, and told her everything. He told her what the Centre was, who you were, and what was likely to happen. She agreed with his decision to defy the Centre, even though she knew what that would mean for the two of them. The only thing she insisted on was saving you."

"But I wasn’t even hers!" Melisande had tears in her eyes at that point.

"You were her daughter." Jarod corrected. "She carried you, gave birth to you, and loved you for two years. The fact that you didn’t carry her DNA made no difference to her."

"So what happened?"

"She arranged to have you adopted through Catholic Family Services. Not even the Centre could penetrate their records. It took them years to find you again."

"Did the Centre…?"

"Yes. Very shortly after you were adopted out."

"The Andersons were wonderful parents." Melisande said reminiscently. "They never hid the fact that I was adopted, and even though I know that I hurt them with my questions about my "real" parents, they always let me ask them. They didn’t have any answers, but they had enough love to get me through the worst of my adolescent identity crises."

"Then you were far, far luckier than your sister."

"Didn’t our parents love her?"

"Your mother did." Jarod agreed cautiously.

"Our father?"

"The jury’s still out on that one."

"He doesn’t love Parker?"

"Frankly, I’m not even sure if the man your mother was married to has any part in either of your genetics." Jarod answered seriously.

"I guess I was lucky then. Mom and Dad were fantastic."

"What happened to them? You speak of them in the past tense."

"I was told it was a drunk driver." She answered, her eyes sad and faraway. "I don’t remember it. I just remember waking up in the hospital."

"That was almost 5 years ago, wasn’t it?"

Melisande and been studying the black path intently, but with Jarod’s question her head snapped up and her gaze sharpened.

"Why do you ask?" She whispered, her green eyes glowing in a way that was almost feline as she stared at Jarod.

"You don’t know who Kiara’s father is, do you?" Jarod countered.

"Who are you?"

"Just get back to your daughter, Melisande." Jarod advised her. "And don’t forget your sister either."

*****

"Parker? Parker, can you hear me?"

"Don’t shout, Broots." Parker answered irritably. "Go away and leave me alone."

"Sydney! Sydney it’s okay! She’s awake!"

"Broots! What are you doing in my bedroom anyway?" Parker finally cracked one sapphire blue eye to glare at the technician. They eye grew wide and the other eye flew open as she stared around her in amazement.

"Where the hell am I?" She demanded, staring at wallpaper covered with cowboys, horses, and longhorn cattle.

"You’re in Broots’ spare bedroom." Sydney said severely. "We didn’t dare leave you alone last night."

"Why?" Parker sat up, wincing as her head pounded in response.

"Parker, you know better than to combine painkillers and alcohol. What got into you?"

"Oh Sydney, don’t be ridiculous!" Parker snapped. "I only had two drinks and it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever taken a pain pill."

"Parker, you were completely out---we couldn’t rouse you at all. Does that happen often?"

"No." Parker half moaned, half whimpered, her hands holding her head as if it would break apart without that help. "And my head hurts worse than ever. What happened?"

"Her pills were changed." Broots answered from the doorway, cell phone in hand as he flipped it shut. "Bernie in the lab just called me with the results of the chemical breakdown I asked him to run."

"What do you mean, changed? And somebody bring me some aspirin!"

"Parker, you could have died." Broots said urgently.

"Broots, I am dying! And if you don’t get me some aspirin I’m taking you with me!" Parker hissed.

Broots scurried to find some painkillers while Sydney tried to make her understand.

"Parker, what did you do yesterday?"

"Sydney, what are you blathering about? I didn’t do anything yesterday!"

"Parker, try to understand, someone switched your medication---and if they knew of your predilection for ignoring drug/alcohol interactions then it could quite possibly have been meant to kill you. Now, considering where we work, that can only mean that you know something, or are close to something, that could be dangerous to the Powers That Be."

"Syd, I did the same thing yesterday that I do everyday. I insulted Lyle, insulted Broots, snapped at you, threatened Raines…"

"Raines?" Sydney jumped on the name. "You haven’t talked to him since your father got back to the Centre."

"I didn’t really talk to him yesterday---he wanted to talk to me, though." Parker remember slowly, absently accepting and swallowing the pills Broots handed her.

"About what?"

"He said I have a sister…" Parker whispered, looking, if possible, even more in pain than she had been when she woke up.

"What else?"

"Daddy came up then. He wanted to see me later. Then---"

"Then Raines died."

"But who?" Parker’s face was whiter than the sheets she clutched.

"Until we know, you’re staying here." Broots said with uncharacteristic firmness.

"I can’t stay here! My clothes are at my home. What do you want me to do, show up in my pajamas?"

"No work, Parker." Sydney responded, backing Broots up. "Until we know what’s going on, you’re safer away from the Centre. And no one will ever expect to find you here." He added with a wry grin.

"I certainly didn’t!" Parker mutter, subsiding in the bed with a wince.

With both Sydney and Broots ganging up on her, she knew she wasn’t going to win this battle of wills. Contrary to what many people believed, Parker respected both Sydney and Broots. She knew that they truly cared about her, just as she cared about them. Besides, she was in far too much pain to fight them. All she really wanted to do was sleep until her head didn’t hurt so much.

*****

"Yes, Sir," the man said confidently, black gloved hand holding the phone, "the package will be delivered before you report for work tomorrow."

*****

"Little Parker needs you!"

"Angelo, I have no idea what you’re talking about! I called the nursery, and the baby is fine. What is it you’re talking about?"

"Not boy Parker, girl Parker! Girl Parker sad. Misses Mommy."

Sydney sighed. Angelo was being unusually obstinate, which probably meant that whatever had gotten him excited was important. But he was tired. His disrupted night with the adult "girl Parker" had left him with a nagging headache and wavering concentration. He didn’t feel up to the task of deciphering Angelo’s cryptic warning, much less dealing with it once he understood.

"Angelo, let’s try this again; where is this little girl Parker?"

Angelo smiled cherubically. Obviously, Sydney had managed to choose the right question.

"Angelo show!"

Tugging insistently on Sydney’s jacket sleeve, Angelo led the psychologist onto the Centre grounds and into a groundskeeper’s shed. Just as Sydney opened his mouth to point out to Angelo that this was a toolshed, not a laboratory, Angelo pushed in one of the few cinder blocks not covered by pegs and shelves, and the entire wall swung out.

"With as many secrets as this place holds, you’d think I’d stop being surprised when a new one showed up, wouldn’t you?" Sydney asked himself ruefully, plunging after Angelo into the inky darkness of the tunnel behind the wall.

Once the wall swung shut, weak lights sprang up, illuminating the narrow passage. Sydney had to repress sensations of claustrophobia as he followed Angelo’s swiftly retreating back. After a few short minutes of travel they emerged into a large, open, underground room. It was a combination gym, play area and exercise area divided by a large expanse of open, unadorned space.

"Why would they need so much room underground?" Sydney wondered silently, not liking the suspicions that were rising in his thoughts.

Angelo ignored the equipment on either side of them, and led Sydney through yet another door, this time into a normally sized and lit hallway. The hallway was simply made of rough cinder blocks; unpainted and with an unfinished air about it. Utilitarian metal doors were placed at intervals down the hallway and reinforced, one-way windows were placed next to the doors. Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he realized the place was uncomfortably similar to SL-27.

"Little Parker!" Angelo was kneeling in front of one of the doors, speaking through a narrow slit in the door. A single, brilliantly blue eye appeared at the slot, framed by dark, auburn hair.

"Angelo!" The child’s smile was evident in her voice and one visible eye. "I missed you! Have you found my mommy yet?"

"No, brought Sydney."

"Sydney?"

The psychologist was amazed at the amount of expression the child could show with such a tiny portion of her face visible.

"Who is Sydney?" She asked suspiciously.

"Sydney friend. Help little Parker."

"My name is Kiara!" Now the girl’s voice held exasperation, with undertones of affection and understanding that the man wasn’t about to start using her name.

"Hello, Kiara." Sydney crouched down to bring his face to where the girl could see him. "I’m Sydney. Angelo is my friend, and he brought me here to meet you."

"I’m pleased to meet you." The child replied, obviously by rote, and not meaning a word of it. "Can you take me back to my mommy?"

"I don’t know who your mommy is." Sydney answered slowly. "If you tell me more, perhaps I can try to find her for you."

"I don’t think that will be necessary." Lyle’s voice sounded from the other end of the hallway, smug, and self satisfied, and somehow, in spite of its pleasant tones, sinister. "Kiara will soon have plenty of company, and I’m sure you won’t mind staying a while to keep her company either, will you Sydney?

*****

"Are you sure he took the drug?" The burly man asked her suspiciously, prodding Jarod’s limp form roughly with one toe.

"Don’t hurt him!" Melisande cried, pushing the man away from Jarod. "Yes, he drank it all. Look," she peeled up one eyelid gently to show Jarod’s glazed and unseeing eyes. "Drugged, no question about it. So take it easy on him!"

"Lady, you have no idea how sneaky, or dangerous, that man can be." Sam answered, still suspicious.

"I’m going with you, right?" She asked, changing the subject. "He said you’d take me to Kiara when you picked Jarod up."

"He changed his mind." The sweeper responded carelessly. "He’s waiting until Jarod is safely where he belongs, just to be sure that you two aren’t trying to pull a fast one on us."

Melisande sank onto the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands with a moan of dismay.

"You’re never going to let me see her again are you?" She asked tearfully. "I sold my soul to you people, and you still won’t give me back my baby!"

"I don’t know." Sam answered stolidly, seeming untouched by her misery. "If you truly belong to the Centre, heart and soul, you’ll probably get to see her again----eventually. Now, I’ve got a package to deliver."

What he didn’t show, and knew better than to even hint at while the other Sweepers were in the room, was that the sight of that tear ravaged face, so like Miss Parker’s, twisted his heartstrings like nothing else could. As two of the men, dressed like EMTs lifted Jarod onto a gurney and strapped him in far more completely than a real paramedic would, Sam allowed himself to meet Melisande’s gaze once, and allowed just a flicker of sympathy to cross his face. Melisande’s eyes widened, before she smoothed her face into lines of resignation, and Sam gestured everyone out of the room.

"Do you have any orders about the woman?" He asked Willie in an undertone as they filed into the hotel hallway.

"Just that we’re to continue our surveillance of her." Willie responded just as quietly.

Sam nodded once. Upon Raines’ death, Willie had become Lyle’s Sweeper. If Willie had no further instructions then he could proceed with his task of bringing in Jarod. Of course, he wished he were doing it for Miss Parker, and not the sadistic Mr. Lyle, but he knew better than to allow his feelings to show.

Melisande watched the ambulance pull away from the hotel from her window. As soon as all sign of the sinister party was gone, she went to her bathroom, washed her face and repaired her makeup, and changed into jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt that said, "Just hand over all the chocolate, and no one will get hurt."

She cracked her door and checked the hallway carefully. Seeing no signs of life, which was only to be expected at 5 am, she slung a soft carryall over her shoulder, and headed to the stairwell. The guard the Centre had placed in the hotel stairs had, thankfully, fallen asleep---although Melisande nearly had a heart attack when she almost stumbled into the man in her haste. Just a few minutes later she was on the streets of downtown Spokane, listening to the birds calling to each other in the early morning light.

She cut through the Park, feeling fairly safe now that it was light, and boarded a bus just north of downtown. Following the instructions Jo had given her the night before, Melisande made her way to her new ally’s house to fill her in on the night’s activities. In her carry sack were a few changes of clothing, false ID and every dime of her money she could lay her hands on, and her most precious mementos of her daughter. She wouldn’t be returning to her hotel room.

"Then where are you going?" Jo asked when she got to that part of her narrative.

Both women looked terrible; pale and drawn from a night of lost sleep and too much anxiety. They were seated at Jo’s kitchen table, drinking coffee as they talked.

"I’m going to do what Jarod told me to do." Melisande answered with a firmness meant to bolster her own resolve. "I’m going to find my sister."

"Then I’m going with you." Jo responded, just as firmly.

"Jarod told you to stay! To be our base; our touchstone."

"I have someone else coming in to cover that." Jo replied with a hint of smugness.

"Who? I thought you were all alone in the world, like me."

"I thought I was too. But none of us really are. There’s a---a fraternity of sorts in this world. People who’ve been victimized by the Centre, or people who Jarod has helped. I did some digging into his past after he started asking questions about my family, you see, and I found a lot of people who would not only do just about anything for Jarod, but they’d do anything to help him in one of his projects.

"One of the people I found, a woman with a young girl Jarod helped her to adopt, has offered to mind the bar while I’m off searching for my family. Of course, she doesn’t know the first thing about running a bar, so I may have no business left when this is over, but as long as I have my family I don’t care. She knows Jarod, and encountered the Centre after he had moved out of her life. She’ll help us just to help him, and she’ll never talk to the Centre about anything."

"What if they take her daughter?"

"I don’t know that they could. Violet is very shy, very wary, and very, very good at taking care of herself. At least, that’s what her mother said when I brought up that same issue."

"You know Jarod won’t like this." Melisande warned ruefully.

"Just because he’s the smartest man I’ve ever met, it doesn’t make him infallible. We need to be actively looking for our loved ones. He may not like it, but he’ll understand, I’m sure."

"Okay," Melisande gave in, privately grateful to have the company of another bereaved mother. "How soon can you be ready?"

"As soon as I grab my bag from my closet. I packed last night after you two left the bar. I’ve got an RV in my garage that can’t be traced to me too." Jo grinned at Melisande’s unmistakable look of relief.

"I like my creature comforts." She said simply.

*****

"Miss Parker! Miss Parker, are you still here?" Broots burst into his house and ran straight through the living room to the hallway leading to the bedrooms in the back.

He didn’t even close the front door in his haste, just raced to where he’d left Parker, calling her name all the way. He almost barreled into her when she suddenly appeared in the doorway to the guest room, looking rumpled and half asleep.

"Where’s the fire?" She asked, stretching slowly as she tried to get her blood moving and wake up. "And what time is it?"

"Is Sydney here?" Broots demanded urgently, ignoring her questions.

"I don’t think so." Parker looked startled, glancing up and down the short hallway as if she would see Sydney standing there. "I just woke up." She added unnecessarily.

"He went somewhere with Angelo while I was at the lab and neither of them came back!" Broots panted, mangling the folder-sized manila envelope he was clutching.

"Okay, slow down." Parker advised, raking her dark hair out of her eyes, and moving decisively down the hallway towards the living room.

It was a good indication of Broots’ anxiety level that he didn’t even glance at Parker’s long legs, perfectly exposed by her skimpy, silk camisole-and-shorts pajamas, as she walked away from him. He sank onto the sofa, seeming to be in shock as Parker checked to see if anyone was watching Broots’ house, and then closed and locked the front door. She noted both the growing darkness outside of the house, and the late hour on the mantel clock before turning her attention back to her coworker.

"Okay, Broots, talk to me. What happened?" Parker’s tone was far gentler than what she usually used with him, but Broots was too far gone in his worry to notice.

"I told you." He answered, seeming more focused on his dark thoughts than on his words to her. "Sydney went somewhere with Angelo and neither of them came back."

"When did they leave?" Parker asked softly, her eyes hard and cold as she considered the fact that the older man could be dead or worse. She suddenly realized how much she cared about Sydney and just how far she’d go to ensure his safety.

"It was a little after lunch. I went to the lab to talk to Bernie about his results on your prescription---do you know they more than doubled the dosage of your medication?" He digressed in amazed tones.

"They were undoubtedly going to claim it was a suicide attempt, then it wouldn’t matter if I lived or died." Parker responded dryly, seeing her evil twin brother in her mind’s eye.

"What do you mean?" Broots asked.

"Broots, use your brain! My brother has already had me locked up once with the claim that I was suicidal---although how the hell he explained away the fact that I was shot in the back still eludes me. If I survived, then he’d have me locked up again, this time with a drug overdose in my system to back him up."

"Oh, that’s cold." Broots shuddered sympathetically.

"Now, what’s that in your hands? Bernie’s results?"

"What?" Broots looked down at the crumpled envelope in his hands as if he’d never seen it before. "Oh! This came for you today!"

Parker sighed and held out her hand, saying with resignation; "Another riddle from Jarod?"

"I don’t think so." Broots answered the rhetorical question. "It doesn’t have his "feel" to it."

"It’s from Raines!" Parker exclaimed, reading the letter paper-clipped to the folder inside of the envelope.

*****

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Jo kicked the back tire as she concluded her diatribe, and then immediately dropped to the ground to clutch her painful toe.

"Feeling better?" Melisande questioned with restrained amusement. Jo glared at her from under dark, unruly bangs.

"Listen, Sandie, I am hot, tired, hungry and just a little irritable. Now is not the best time to egg me on!" Jo growled.

"My name is Melisande." She responded firmly. "And who is the one who told you to pull into that last rest stop because the engine sounded bad?"

Melisande went to the front of the small RV and lifted the hood to look at the engine. Jo grumbled and made her way into the vehicle, slamming the door on her way in to vent her frustration. Melisande just grinned and used the bandanna she’d confined her hair with to protect her fingers while she unscrewed the radiator cap. It was clear that she knew something about engines from the way she anticipated, and avoided, the billowing steam that immediately escaped the labored engine.

"So, what’s the prognosis?" Jo demanded sourly when the door opened a few minutes later and Melisande re-entered the RV to wash her greasy hands at the sink.

"I don’t suppose you have any oil in this crate?" Melisande asked without much hope.

"No. Why would I?"

"Because you’ve got an oil leak that makes the Mississippi look like a late summer creek." She sighed and gave up on the black stains under her fingernails. "You’ve also got a hole in your radiator hose. If we’re going to go anywhere in this we need to carry crates of oil and gallons of water, or find some Percherons to pull it for us."

"Percheron?"

"Draft horses---big." Melisande explained succinctly.

"So you’re saying this is a piece of---"

"Yep." She cut off the rest of her companion’s sentence. "That pretty well sums it up. You could buy a new RV for the money it would cost us to fix it up. On the other hand, we’re halfway through Wyoming. Why don’t we just catch a plane from here? If we pay cash no one will know who we are or where we’re going."

"And just how do we get from the middle of nowhere to an airport?" Jo looked expressively at the wide, flat terrain surrounding them, with the craggy mountains miles away on either side of them.

"Hitchhike." Melisande grabbed her soft bag and slung it over one shoulder. Her purse was thrown over the other shoulder, and she stopped to look at Jo before she stepped out the door. "Of course, we’ll have to walk until someone actually comes along---but this part of the country actually has people who might help us out of the goodness of their hearts."

Jo sighed and grabbed a backpack from an overhead compartment.

"Okay, you’re right and I was wrong." She gritted out unwillingly as she began to shove clothing haphazardly into the bag. "Just give me a chance to throw a few things into this and I’ll go with you."

"I’ll make a few sandwiches." Melisande offered magnanimously, dropping her attitude in an instant.

She’d been making a point with Jo, who seemed to think that her patrician features and refined air indicated a helpless, and ignorant person. In reality, her upbringing had been as middle-class as Jo’s, and she was just as capable of handling herself. She knew they needed to be partners if they were going to succeed in finding their families and rescuing them from the Centre. They couldn’t afford Jo’s superiority complex.

"I’m sorry." Jo finally said with sincerity, turning to face Melisande as she zipped the backpack closed. "I’ve been treating you like an air-head, and I had no justification. I guess I was trying to feel more in control, more capable."

"We’re both scared and feeling overwhelmed." Melisande agreed softly.

"Are we going to make it?" Jo asked, tears welling as her tough facade crumbled.

"Yes!" She responded fiercely. "Don’t you know that nothing on earth can compete with a mother defending her young? And Jarod will help us!"

"But you delivered him to the Centre people!"

"And why do you think he let me do that?" Melisande demanded bracingly. "He’s hoping that he’ll end up with our families. He sacrificed his freedom to help us. It will work out, Jo, you’ll see."

"It will, won’t it?" Jo repeated slowly, true hope rising in her heart for the first time since she’d been accused of the murder of her husband and daughter.

Melisande smiled, and thrust a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in Jo’s free hand. She put the rest of the sandwiches she’d made into a plastic bag and opened the door for her partner. Around a mouthful of bread Jo asked;

"So, what were the names on your list?"

Melisande answered as they started down the rural highway.

*****

"So, Sydney," Lyle walked around the psychologist who was obviously fighting his own desires by remaining seated in the rough office. "Your tame monkey brought you here. I thought he might."

Angelo crouched defensively in a corner of the office, warily watching Lyle’s every move, but never making eye contact with the other man.

"What are you up to, Lyle? Does the triumvirate know about this? Does Mr. Parker know?"

Lyle laughed.

"I have all the permission I need for this project. Now, I have a simple proposition for you. Work with the children I’m rounding up---the way you worked with Jarod, or visit the Renewal wing for a while."

"What children?" Sydney focused on the issue that interested him the most, and ignored Lyle’s offer. "Who is Kiara?"

"A project."

"A clone?" Sydney demanded. "Another clone? Didn’t you people get enough with Genesis?"

"We both know that Parker should have been a Pretender too." Lyle countered smoothly. "With the correct training we’ll have an entire cadre of Pretenders to work for us. Now, are you going to help?"

"I---" Sydney hesitated. He wanted to help Kiara, and any others that Lyle had his sights on. He was afraid of what might happen in the renewal wing too. But he wasn’t sure if his soul could handle one more compromise with the Centre. He had so many regrets about Jarod…

"It isn’t just you who would benefit from this." Lyle urged persuasively. "I’ll let you keep the monkey with you too, instead of locking him up where he’ll never get loose."

Angelo hunched a shoulder and began to chew nervously on his fingernails.

"You win." Sydney sighed. "I’ll help---but I want to try a few changes in the program this time. I’ve had a few ideas that might keep our Pretenders loyal to us longer."

"Good! You’ll have to stay here for a few weeks---just until I’ve gotten my sister sorted out, but I’ll have Willie show you to your office and your quarters."

"I want keys to the children’s cells."

"Fine, but if you try to leave you will be shot. I’d prefer to have you on the team, but you aren’t the only psychologist on my list."

"How many children do you have at the moment?"

"Three. And the infant’s father is here too. He responded quite well to re-education, so we’re letting him work with her. Willie will introduce all of you later."

"I want to see Kiara right now---alone." Sydney threw a hard look at Willie.

Lyle nodded at Willie’s inquiring look, and Willie handed Sydney a ring of keys. Reluctance showed in his every move.

"We’ll talk in the morning." Lyle said briskly as Sydney urged Angelo to his feet and towards the door. "Right now I have a package I’m expecting."

Sydney felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the satisfaction in Lyle’s voice. Angelo’s worried expression didn’t help his premonition of disaster either.

*****

"I want my mom!" Kiara glared at Sydney and remained stubbornly huddled into the corner of her little room.

"I know you do." Sydney agreed patiently, still amazed at her resemblance to Miss Parker as a child. "But there’s nothing I can do about that right now. Please come with me to meet the others, Kiara. I suspect that you’re the oldest here, and you could help them a lot."

"Then can I go home?" Kiara’s maturity dissolved and in an instant she looked exactly like the frightened preschooler that she was.

"No, not yet." Sydney couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. "I promise, I’ll do everything I can to get your mom here for you, though."

"What if I don’t help you?" Kiara asked shrewdly.

"I’ll still try to get your mother back for you."

"Sydney good man." Angelo volunteered suddenly, surprising both of the others. "Trust Sydney, Kiara."

"He called me Kiara." The girl whispered, obviously stunned.

"Will you come, Kiara?" Sydney asked gently.

Instead of answering, Kiara propelled herself from her cot and into Sydney’s arms, clinging to him like a drowning swimmer. Sydney fought down his own amazement and awkwardly patted the trembling child on her back. He wasn’t accustomed to soothing frightened children, he realized to his chagrin, but there was something satisfying in offering her comfort. When she loosened her hold and gave him a tremulous smile, he felt as though he had accomplished something far more important than even his work in helping get Apollo 13 safely back to Earth.

*****

"What does it say, Miss Parker?" Broots asked curiously as Parker quickly thumbed through the contents of the folder.

"I—" She looked in Broots’ direction, her eyes wide with shock. "I can’t believe it." She whispered, and dropping the file she fled back to the room Broots had lent her.

Boots looked down the hall and then at the scattered papers on the floor, obviously torn as to which was more important. The file won out, as he realized that he couldn’t help Parker if he didn’t know what had upset her. He quickly gathered the papers and sorted them out. Shock overcame him, as well, as he began to read.

Inside the room Parker grabbed her cell phone from the beside table and dialed a number with shaking hands. She’d had this number for over 4 years and never used it. Her expression darkened as the phone rang and rang and no one answered.

"Answer!" She hissed, taking refuge in familiar anger. "Damn it, Jarod, answer!"

She flung the phone against the far wall a few moments later when her brother’s unmistakable voice answered.

*****

"Now what?" Jo asked wearily, after three hours of hiking without seeing a single soul.

"We keep walking." Melisande answered patiently for the fifteenth time.

"Are you planning to walk all the way to Delaware?"

"If I have to." Came the stolid reply.

"Could be our lucky day, Mel!" Jo exulted a moment later, pointing to a dust plume moving their direction.

"Kin I hep ya?" An elderly, dusty man asked them soon after.

"Going to a city? ANY city?" Jo asked eagerly. The man let out a dry laugh.

"Must be your RV I saw by the side of the road a few miles back."

"Yeah. If you’re going near any city that has a Greyhound bus stop we’d be terribly grateful." Melisande clarified dryly.

"I reckon I could stop by Casper and pick up some feed before heading home." The stranger offered in a grudging voice, but with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

"BLESS you!" Jo breathed thankfully.

"Throw your bags in the back and climb in. We’ll have to be a bit friendly, but we’ll all fit."

Actually, the cab of the ancient pickup was roomy enough to fit all three comfortably and the man proved to be quite entertaining company. The trip almost seemed too short when he pulled up in front of the gas station/bus stop that served as the connection point for the two major bus lines that ran in that area.

"Now we’re cooking with gas." Jo murmured optimistically as the bus pulled out of Casper. They’d bought tickets to Chicago, where they’d catch a flight to Delaware out of O’Hare airport.

*****

Jarod’s head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and his eyes were gummy and hard to open. Still, he persevered and managed to pry one eye open and look around. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

"Hello, Jarod." Lyle smiled wolfishly down at him.

Jarod groaned and closed his eye again. He bolted up gasping a moment later when a bucket of icy water doused him.

"It isn’t polite to sleep when you have company, Jarod." Lyle baited him, rising to stand just out of casual reach.

"You aren’t my idea of company." Jarod gritted out grimly, glaring impotently at his captor.

"No one is particularly interested in your ideas, Jarod. Except, of course, when they pertain to a job we have for you to do. Now, Willie will be here in a minute to escort you to the showers. This time you will cooperate, won’t you? After all, you have to know by now that escape is impossible."

"Why should I cooperate?" Jarod spat the words out bitterly. "What do you think you can do to me that would be worse than last time?"

Lyle’s genial façade vanished and he glared coldly at the Pretender.

"Don’t test me, boy!" He snapped furiously. "You have only tasted the barest hint of what I’m capable of."

"I won’t work for you." Jarod returned stubbornly, looking remarkably like a three year old who had been told to clean his room.

"You will." There wasn’t the faintest hint of doubt in Lyle’s voice. "Now, are you going to make yourself presentable for your coming visitor, or do I get to persuade you?" He practically purred the threat.

Jarod’s gaze fell uncertainly before he looked up again and squared his shoulders resolutely.

"I’ll cooperate." He said with unconvincing bravado. "Simply because I suddenly feel quite dirty."

Lyle laughed, confident that he’d cowed the other man.

"Whatever." He allowed with a dismissive wave. "Make sure you look decent, though. I’ll be bringing someone very important to you after you’ve gotten ready."

"Important how?" Though he tried to restrain it, a glimmer of hope shone in his face. Could they have a member of his family?

"Jarod, get this through your head right now. You have no desires, no needs, no wishes, except what we give you. You’ll find out who your visitor is when we want you to, and not before. Resign yourself to your position in life---it’s what you were bred for, after all." Lyle lectured him with overdone patience, as if addressing a particularly dimwitted child.

Jarod’s response was a strangely half-hearted glare. Lyle departed the cell; satisfied at the way his initial meeting with his new toy had gone. Jarod sank onto the wet cot, lowering his head into his hands, the very picture of dejection, while he waited for his escort to the showers.

So, he thought grimly, by no means as cowed as he had appeared to Lyle. Lyle is behind this. Now to find out who is behind Lyle…

*****

"Look what I found, Mommy!" Kiara held her chubby, three-year-old hands up to her mother to reveal four tiny, hairless baby mice. "Can I keep ‘em?"

Another child would have looked hopeful, but Kiara just looked radiant. She knew that her mother would agree, her mother always agreed with her requests. Melisande sighed ruefully.

"You know how much work it will be to raise them, don’t you?" She asked.

"But I have to, Mommy. A mean ol’ cat killed their Mama. I have to take care of them!"

"Of course you do, my little rescuer." Melisande relented lovingly, kneeling down to give her daughter a hug before she began rummaging around in the kitchen cupboards.

"Let me see if I remember their needs." She smiled down at Kiara as she pulled down the supplies. "Goat’s milk, Karo syrup, eye droppers----I’ll get some food warmed up for them, you go prepare them a bed."

"Can I turn on the heater for them?"

"Of course."

The heater was a small radiant heater that had a permanent residence in Kiara’s room. It radiated enough heat to warm a small room, but never got hot enough to burn the youngster or any of her frailer patients.

"You’re the best Mommy in the whole world!" Kiara exclaimed joyfully, gently cradling the tiny creatures to her chest.

"And you’re the best daughter." Melisande whispered back, her eyes misting with tears.

She woke up abruptly, the sound of her daughter’s giggles in her ears. Tears welled in her eyes and the ache in her heart and her arms grew almost unbearable.

"I miss my baby too." Jo whispered compassionately from the seat next to her.

"Let’s go over our plan for when we land." Melisande whispered back, dashing her tears from her face with a quick swipe of her hand.

The two women were on a midnight flight to the East Coast, and they were whispering in deference to the sleeping passengers around them. This flight would take them to Baltimore, Maryland, and then they’d board another bus. Melisande and Jo both pulled out some paper and began scribbling furiously.

"Okay, these were the contacts on my list." Jo said a few moments later. "Do you have any others?"

Her list read: Syd, Bts, M. Pkr. She hadn’t listed any numbers next to the abbreviated names. Melisande’s list was more complete and had more details:

Sydney, think he’s trustworthy, but be careful; Broots, nice guy but easily intimidated and works for Centre by choice as far as I can tell; Parker, if you can reach her heart she’ll move heaven and earth for you, but getting there might be hard; and finally, Angelo, understands more than he seems too, completely trustworthy, listen to him if he approaches you.

Then, beneath a dark line she’d written:

Mr. Lyle, absolutely do not trust or approach; Mr. Parker, not trustworthy, more involved in stuff at the Centre than he wants to seem; Raines, probably dead, but could still be alive somehow---do not trust anyone if you can help it. The Centre is built on lies, be alert.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Jo asked dryly, looking over the list of "do not trust". "Maybe approaching the Japanese or Russian Mafia would be safer."

"Probably." Melisande responded just as dryly. "But they don’t have our families, this place does."

"So, when we get to Delaware you want me to go to Parker’s?" Jo asked, getting back on task.

"No." Melisande contradicted. "I’ve tried Parker’s and Sydney’s phones, and both times got no answer. I think we have to try this Broots fellow next."

Jo sighed. "I don’t like trusting someone who is easily intimidated."

"Well, we don’t have a number for Angelo, so we’re stuck. I’ll keep trying Parker’s, though. Jarod said this phone was set up to be untraceable."

"Still, I’m doing the legwork once we land, right? If you look as much like Parker as Jarod seemed to think, you’d stick out like a sore thumb."

"Yes, but if all else fails, I’ll use that resemblance as bait to lure someone close enough to us to question."

"Or get yourself kidnapped and leave me on my own." Jo muttered sourly, masking her concern with ill temper.

*****

"Hello, everyone, I’m Sydney." The older man said quietly, looking around at the faces surrounding him. "I’ll be taking care of you for a while."

There were 5 children and one adult male, quietly cuddling the youngest. The man’s face was lined with fatigue and pain, and he had yet to lift his eyes to meet Sydney’s. All of the other children, ranging in age from 18 months to approximately 10 years old, stared at Sydney warily. He sighed inwardly and wished he’d been given at least a little background on them. How long had they been there? What where their names? Well, that one was easily fixed.

"While we’re waiting for our dinners, why don’t we get to know each other?" He asked smoothly, carefully masking his uneasiness at their continued subdued hostility. "Kiara and I have met, have any of you met her?"

Identical twin 6 year olds shook their curly heads solemnly, before the 10 year old turned to glare at them.

"Then why don’t we let her start, and you’ll be next." He threw a significant glance at the oldest boy.

"It’s okay." Kiara told the others gravely. "Sydney is nice, he wants to help us."

"How do you know?" The boy burst out sullenly.

"The same way you’d know, if you tried to." Kiara replied stubbornly. "Feel him!"

"Angelo likes him." The girl was somewhere between 7 and 8 years old and her deep brown eyes were tilted exotically, hinting at Asian ancestry.

"Go ahead, Kiara, and introduce yourself to the others." Sydney urged soothingly.

"I’m Kiara, I’m four years old, and Sydney’s going to help me find my mommy." Kiara said boldly, glaring at the oldest boy as if daring him to contradict her.

"My name is Gannas, I’m ten and a half, and he is not!" The boy rose to the bait grimly. "If he isn’t working with the other one, then he’s just as helpless as we are." He glared back at Kiara.

"You have a point, Gannas." Sydney agreed mildly. "But I happen to be in charge of this part of the project, and I think I might be able to convince my superiors that you will all do better work if you are allowed some contact with your families. I will certainly try."

"I am Tasida." The older girl who’d spoken earlier chimed in. Her hair was a smooth, blue-black sheet that fell nearly to her waist. Her voice was soft without being timid. "I am eight years old. I have no family, I have always been here."

Sydney’s heart constricted at the sorrow in her voice.

"Then we’ll be your family, Tasida." He promised her.

"I’m Merwan." One of the curly haired, gap toothed twins volunteered.

"And I’m Geschke." The other one added, a twinkle in his blue eyes and a mischievous grin on his round face.

Sydney noted that they looked similar enough to the blond cherubim smiling in the silent man’s arms to be siblings. He also noted that they sat close to the man, although their body language told him that the boys didn’t quite know him, even though they were drawn towards him.

"And how old are you two imps?" He smiled indulgently as the boys giggled delightedly.

"Six!" They answered in unison and giggled again.

Those two were going to be a handful, he guessed ruefully. They obviously shared the special bond that some identical twins did, the one he’d shared with his brother Jacob, and they were high spirited enough to try nearly any practical joke. He turned his attention to the three boys huddling together. They all appeared to be about the same age, about three years old, but their features and coloring were too different to mark them as siblings. He assumed that they were drawn together by their similarity in age. The other older girl was seated behind them, watching over them protectively.

"And what are your names, gentlemen?" He asked them gently.

"Timmit." This boy had straight, fine brown hair and deep brown eyes and he reminded Sydney so much of Jarod when he’s first seen him that he felt his heart wrench. The child was far shyer than young Jarod had been though. He whispered his name, glanced up, and then focused on the floor again.

"Mattais." The second whispered just as timidly. His fine blond hair, blue eyes, and round face reminded Sydney of Angelo, and he had to push down the uneasy suspicion that at least some of these children were clones. It didn’t make any difference to his work if they were clones or originals, so the thought was of no value at the moment.

"Ricard." The third managed. With his black hair, the same shade as Tasida’s, and green eyes, he was the only one of the three that didn’t remind Sydney of one of his other "children".

"And how old are you three?" He kept his voice gentle, realizing that the boys weren’t in good emotional shape.

"They’re three." The girl chimed in defensively. "They don’t remember their parents either."

"How do you know that? Have you children been together before?"

All of the children exchanged worried looks.

"No." The girl finally mumbled. "But my little brother was three when they took me."

"And you are?" Sydney prompted, wisely allowing the subject of her knowledge drop.

"I’m Tilena. I’ve only been here a few days." The girl’s voice held the same kind of fragile composure that Sydney had heard countless times in young Miss Parker’s voice, but her straight, strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes couldn’t have been more different than the other girl’s.

"And how old are you?"

"Nine." She answered briefly, scooting up to the frightened three year olds and putting protective arms around two while she allowed the third to snuggle into her lap.

Sydney turned his attention to the toddler and the man caring for her. He suspected the man was her father, but in the Centre one never knew for sure.

"And you two are?" He asked pleasantly.

"Midori!" The girl crowed delightedly, dimples showing. "Daddy!" She wiggled in her father’s arms, but he restrained her easily.

"Does "Daddy" have another name?"

The man looked up, his blue eyes haunted, and started to shake his head, but Midori answered again.

"Steven Bartlett." She was obviously imitating the way she’d heard her father answer that question at some time, and for a child who should just barely be able to speak, her ability to imitate was uncanny.

"How do you do, Steve." Sydney offered gravely, trying to reassure the damaged man with his eyes. "I’m Sydney."

"Hello." The man whispered hoarsely, and that was that.

He didn’t speak again during the strained meal that followed and hurried away with Midori as soon as she’d eaten enough. Sydney noticed that the man was too thin, and barely touched his food. Once again, he repressed a sigh, knowing that he had a lot of damage to undo with all of his new "projects".

"Okay, everyone needs to return to their rooms, shower, and get ready for bed." He said over the quiet conversation that sprang up as the children finished their meals one by one.

"Will you tuck us in?"

"And tell us a bedtime story?" The twins asked. Sydney had no idea which one asked what.

"I’ll be by to check on you as soon as you’re all in bed. I’ll check on the younger children first, so wait your turn, okay?"

"How touching." Dead silence filled the small cafeteria as Lyle’s voice sounded at the door. "If you’re done playing Daddy, perhaps we could speak?"

"Go on, children. I’ll be with you in a bit." Sydney urged the kids, moving towards Lyle, and grasping his arm to move him out of the doorway and into the hall. The children began to file from the room, glancing apprehensively at Lyle.

"Let’s go to my office to talk." Sydney suggested, wanting to spare the children any more trauma. Lyle obviously frightened them, and Sydney knew it was with good reason.

"Whatever." Lyle agreed nonchalantly. "What are your preliminary conclusions? Are they Pretender material?"

*****

"Miss Parker!" Broots hissed into the empty office.

"Up here, Broots." Came Parker’s dry voice. Broots looked up and spotted her in the ventilation shaft.

"What are you doing there?" He questioned with amazement.

"Being inconspicuous. What have you discovered?"

"Something is definitely going on. Supplies, food, books, all kinds of stuff has been ordered by Mr. Lyle, but none of it arrives here at the Centre." Broots answered slowly.

"So where is it going?"

"I don’t know. The Centre has paid every invoice, so it’s going somewhere, but I can’t figure out where!"

"Well it isn’t going to SL-27, Angelo and I checked, and it’s still deserted." Parker answered. "I need to show up sooner or later, apparently Daddy has Sweepers looking for me now."

"I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Miss Parker." Broots contradicted her gravely. "That report said----"

"I know what the report said, you moron! But it was from Raines! How do I know that what it said was the truth?"

"I think the fact that they killed Raines for approaching you says something." Broots insisted stubbornly.

"Have you at least found where they’re holding Jarod?" Parker asked, sidetracking the conversation.

"No---"

"Angelo knows." Angelo cut off the beleaguered technician. "Same place as before."

"Why would Lyle do that?" Broots wondered.

"Perhaps because Sydney is gone and I never saw the place?" Parker suggested with saccharine sweetness. "Apparently he doesn’t consider you a threat."

"Or it’s a trap for us." Broots bristled at the insult and Parker relented.

"You’re right, Broots, but we have to try to reach Jarod anyway."

"No." Once again Broots seemed to grow a few inches as resolution settled over his features. "I’ll go contact Jarod, you stay put. One of us needs to be free to act if this is a trap, and you’re the best candidate. You’ve got more authority than I do."

"Damn it, Broots! I won’t let you go in by yourself." Parker exploded quietly.

"Yes you will. You and Angelo will be our only hope if Lyle is lying in wait for us."

"And if he isn’t?"

"Then I’ll talk to Jarod and see if there’s anything he can suggest to help."

"I don’t like this, Broots." Parker sighed. "But I don’t think I have a choice."

"You don’t." Broots answered, a rueful smile on his face. "And neither do I."

*****

"Rise and shine, Jarod. Company’s here." Sam’s voice reached through Jarod’s hazy dreams of a loving family and brought him back to grim reality.

"Why, if it isn’t amiable Sweeper Sam!" Jarod grinned sardonically. "Bought any new jackets lately?"

"Remember which side of the bars you’re on, Lab Rat." Sam snarled. "And be polite to the big guy."

"So I finally get to meet him?" Jarod jibed. "Well, step out of the shadows and say hello."

"Hello, Jarod." A familiar voice said in response as a man did separate himself from the shadows and move into the light where Jarod could see him. "So good to see you again."

"You!" The blood drained from Jarod’s head and he felt dizzy as he stared at the last face he’d expected to see. "You’re the brains of this outfit?"

***** "Hsst! Jarod!"

"Go away." The shattered man groaned, not even looking up.

"It’s me, Broots!"

"Go away, Broots. I can’t help myself, much less anyone else." Jarod repeated numbly.

Broots thought quickly. He didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was, it had clearly shaken Jarod to the core.

"Jarod, what happened?" He asked urgently.

"He was here!" Jarod responded, less than helpfully. "He’s behind everything!"

"He who?"

Jarod just looked at Broots blankly.

‘Okay,’ Broots thought to himself, "they’ve managed to shake him up good. How can I undo this?’

"Look, I don’t know what happened Jarod," Broots began, thinking fast, "but you’ve got to remember, this is the Centre! Whatever----whoever you think you saw, there’s got to be a logical explanation. What if the Centre was threatening him? What if it’s just someone made to look like him? What if---" Broots faded lamely, running out of "what ifs".

It was sufficient, though. Color began to creep into Jarod’s face as he realized the Broots had a point. NOTHING was what it seemed where the Centre was involved. What he’d seen wasn’t necessarily what he thought he’d seen.

"You’re right, Broots." He said, amazement in his voice. "I can’t give up yet."

"Besides, Parker needs you. And so do Sydney and I." He added with considerable boldness, hoping Jarod would give him some clue as to whether he’d seen Sydney or not.

"Well, I’m not exactly in the position to help anyone." Jarod replied, with a touch of his normal humor. "So I hope you’ve got a backup plan."

"As long as we know you’re still here." Broots muttered softly. "I’d better go tell Parker you’re okay."

"Not okay," He contradicted the smaller man, "but better."

"I’ll be back." Broots melted into the shadows, leaving Jarod alone once again.

*****

"Lyle, I want the children’s doors to be left unlocked." Sydney said as soon as the door to his "office" closed behind the two men. "And I want Merwan and Geschke in the same room and Timmit, Mattais and Ricard in the same room."

"That’s not how things are done in the Pretender Project." Lyle objected.

"I’d say we’re due for a change, wouldn’t you? Besides, I’m the only member of our team who produced a FULL pretender. That should give my suggestions some merit."

"I’ll discuss it with the boss." Lyle answered without enthusiasm. "In the meantime, do any of the children have Pretender potential?"

"I won’t know for sure until I’ve done some testing." Sydney hedged. At Lyle’s glare he went on; "However, they all seem to be quite bright, and I may have seen some extended abilities in some of the girls."

"Extended how?" Lyle demanded suspiciously, as though Sydney was trying to scam him.

"I haven’t had enough time to be sure, but it seemed to me that Tilena was answering questions for the youngest boys that she had no way of knowing the answers to. Until last night, none of them had been together, had they?"

"No." Lyle’s eyes gleamed avariciously, and Sydney felt compelled to warn him that he was celebrating too soon.

"Lyle, I could be mistaken."

"I may not trust you, Sydney, but I trust your instincts." Lyle replied gleefully. "If you think you saw something extraordinary, you probably did."

"There’s another problem." Sydney said reluctantly.

"What?"

"If you’re going to be bringing in more children I won’t be able to work with them. These ten are going to take all of my time and attention."

"We do have more children coming in, but I’ve already arranged for you to have some help."

"Who?" Sydney tried to repress his alarm, but suspected that Lyle picked up on it anyway.

"You’ll see." Lyle smiled his most condescending smile and strolled out the door.

"Oh, and Sydney?" He added just before he walked out. "Keep the monkey with you, or I’ll order him shot on sight."

Sydney just sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, just how his life had come to this pass.

*****

"See?" Kiara thought softly to the other children. "I told you he was good!"

"He may be a good man," the ever practical Tilena pointed out, "but he’s as much a prisoner as we are."

"He has friends. Friends who know where to look for him." Tasida countered. "That’s more than the rest of us have."

"They haven’t found him yet, have they?" Gannas rebutted cynically.

"Angelo will bring them here." Kiara avowed with confidence. "Angelo is our friend."

"He’s leaving the office!" Tasida warned. "Everyone in their beds, no more talk!"

Although the children were each in their solitary rooms, the scrambled as one to get under the covers and present their most innocent faces. The rat that Kiara had been using to spy on Lyle and Sydney scampered through his private tunnel system to pickup the bread reward Kiara had promised him, placed just inside the hole that led to her room under her bed. Sydney had no idea that the children had been plotting during his absence.

*****

"It’s all falling apart." Broots moaned anxiously.

"It was never together to begin with!" Parker snapped back irritably. "We need Jarod and Sydney if we’re ever going to get to the bottom of this."

She was pacing back and forth in the roomy lab Sydney and Broots used as a working office, biting on a fingernail and frowning blackly.

"What are they up to?" She murmured.

"Whatever do you mean, Princess?" Mr. Parker’s jovial voice sounded from the doorway, stopping Parker in her tracks and scaring Broots out of his wits. "And where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!"

"Daddy!" Parker pasted on a rather unconvincing smile for her father. "I didn’t hear you come in."

She paused to glare at Broots, who was edging for the door, sending him miserably back to his seat.

"I was in town." She went on with more conviction. "I simply had the worst headache, and knew that no one but Simmons could get rid of it."

"Simmons?"

"He’s a new chiropractor in Blue Cove, Daddy. I’m sure I mentioned him to you." Parker widened her eyes in an overdone imitation of innocence and waited for her father’s reaction.

"Are you trying to say you’ve been in a chiropractor’s office since the day before yesterday?"

"Of course not." Parker’s dismissive laugh was only slightly breathless. "I stayed over at the Ridpath when Simmons told me I needed a follow up visit the next day. They have the most marvelous hot tub there."

"Hmmph! Well, call your father next time. I was worried."

Broots held his breath, afraid that Parker was going to fall for his concerned father act. It was very well done, but Parker’s brittle cordiality reassured him that she was still on her guard.

"I’m sorry, Daddy." She assured him, with an well hidden undertone of distrust. "I promise to try and keep in touch from now on."

"So how is the head?" Mr. Parker asked, changing tact abruptly.

"Just fine now." Parker returned without hesitation. "But I can’t seem to find Sydney anywhere. Broots says he vanished sometime yesterday afternoon."

Broots cringed as Mr. Parker leveled a stern look on him.

"He’s on a special mission for the triumvirate." He told his daughter a moment later.

"I can’t reach him on his cell phone either." Parker probed again. "It’s been turned off."

"I’ll try to get a message to him to call you." Mr. Parker promised easily. "He’s in a delicate situation, and phone calls to him could compromise his position."

"I see." Parker packed a wealth of meaning into those two words. "Well, then I’ll just wait to hear from him. It might slow down our hunt for Jarod, though."

"Jarod’s been captured, Angel." Mr. Parker replied, watching his daughter’s reaction carefully. "Your brother brought him in late yesterday."

"I see." Parker repeated the words thoughtfully. "That’s good news!" She forced a measure of cheer into her voice.

"Yes, it is. And since you haven’t been feeling well, I think you should take a few days off before we reassign you to another division."

"I’d like a little vacation." Parker agreed slowly. "And I think Broots deserves one too."

"Of course, Angel. You and Broots and Sydney have worked far too hard to bring Jarod in. We’ll see to it that Sydney gets a break just as soon as he gets back."

"Great. I’ll see you in a week then, okay?" Broots wondered how Mr. Parker could miss the thinly disguised contempt in his daughters voice, but the man just held his arms out for an embrace. Parker gave him a perfunctory hug and a peck on the cheek, and gestured at Broots to follow her as she strode out of the laboratory.

"That was too close." Broots shuddered, as he faithfully followed on Parker’s heels.

"Where did you hide the file?" Parker demanded abruptly.

"I re-mailed it to your house. It should get there today." Broots followed Parker’s course with the ease of long practice. "Why? Are you starting to believe it’s true?"

"It fits." She answered grimly. "It fits all too well."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We’re going to find my sister." Parker told him, as firm as a granite cliff. "Then we’re going to find Sydney and Jarod."

*****

"What now?" Jo asked wearily. They’d been traveling for two days straight, and both women had been living under tremendous stress for months before that. They were both bone tired, but Melisande seemed to be driven by some force outside of herself to find her sister.

"We find my sister. Meredith." She spoke the name tentatively, trying it on for size. "We find Meredith."

"How? You’ve gotten no answer at any of your calls to her house."

"I’m going to call a cab and go to her house to wait. You’re welcome to check into a hotel if you’d like and wait for me in comfort."

"No," Jo sighed regretfully. "We’re in this together."

"Thanks, Jo." Melisande smiled gratefully, transforming her drawn features into radiant beauty for a few moments. "I’m glad I’m not alone in this."

"No problem." Jo smiled back with a hint of her former carefree good humor and pointed her friend to the cabby that had just pulled up in front of the bus depot. "Shall we go find---Meredith?"

"Yes." The word was filled with longing, urgency, and trepidation. "Yes, let’s go."

*****

"Did it work?" Lyle asked the man, contentedly eyeing the screen that showed Jarod’s huddled body on the hard cot.

"It was quite effective. I think that after you’ve worked with him for a while tonight, along with the drug we’ve added to his water, that he’ll be quite malleable." The man, seated behind a large desk made of dark walnut swung his leather chair around and smiled fondly at Lyle.

"I get a free hand?" Lyle’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"No!" The man raised his hand commandingly. "I want him able to work with the children as soon as possible. Do not damage him permanently, and don’t mar him in any way that might frighten the children."

Lyle’s face fell with disappointment.

"Yes, Sir." He agreed reluctantly.

"There are always the battery and jumper cables." The man offered soothingly.

Lyle brightened, and left the office with a jaunty step, barely acknowledging his father as he passed him just inside the door.

"So how’d it go?" Mr. Parker asked abruptly, ignoring his son just as thoroughly as the other ignored him.

"See for yourself." The man Jarod knew of as Major Charles gestured towards the computer screen on his desk, and the shivering man it portrayed.

"Excellent!" Mr. Parker breathed, all but rubbing his hands together with glee. "I think this time we’ve got him!"

*****

"Do you think Jarod is okay?"

Jo and Melisande had been waiting in the bushes surrounding Parker's house for hours now. It had been completely dark for at least an hour and both women were cold, tired, and more than a little discouraged when Jo suddenly brought up Jarod.

"No." Melisande whispered honestly, and with a load of guilt. "I'm afraid that I sold him to the devil."

"Don't beat yourself up, Mel." Jo advised her, ignoring her friend's sigh of frustration at the hated nickname. "He knew what he was getting into, and he told you to go ahead."

"I can't help worrying. I'm sure he would have contacted us if he could. It scares me that he hasn't."

"Well, from what we've been finding out about the Centre, I'd say it's going to take him more than a few days to get himself into a position where he can contact anyone." Jo pointed out. "Hey, are those car lights?"

Yes, they were, and soon after Jo and Melisande watched nervously as a tall, auburn haired woman and shorter, balding man. Jo was amazed at the resemblance between this woman and her friend, and kept looking from one to the other. Melisande ignored the man and studied the woman hungrily, but with apprehension too.

"Aren't we going to meet her?" Jo prodded, as their quarry disappeared into the stone house.

"I don't think we should---there's someone with her. Jarod said not to let anyone know I was trying to get in touch with her." Melisande protested, suddenly out of courage now that the moment was at hand.

"C'mon!" Jo hauled on her friend's arm. When Melisande refused to get up, she threatened; "Better go with me, `cause I'm going with or without you!"

"Jo! What's gotten into you?"

"I want my husband and my daughter back and your sister may be my only hope." She replied tartly. "Now get up and let's get going!"

"Okay, okay!" Melisande got up reluctantly, brushing dirt and leaves from her slacks and running nervous fingers through her hair.

"Mel, you look great! Besides, you're meeting your sister, not your future husband!"

"What if she doesn't like me?" Mel fretted as she allowed Jo to drag her to her sister's door.

"Then she's a fool!" Jo avowed firmly, ringing the doorbell for her reluctant companion.

"Lyle, if that's you you'd better be gone before I open this door!" They heard a strident female voice respond to the bell. Jo rang the bell again.

"All right! I'm coming!' Heels clicked rapidly towards the door and then it was abruptly swung open. "Who are----?" Her voice stopped abruptly when her eyes fell on Melisande.

"Meredith?" Melisande asked hopefully. "Are you Meredith Parker?"

*****

"Mr. Sydney?" The young girl's voice was hesitant and so low it was barely audible, but Sydney knew instantly who it was.

"What's wrong, Tilena?" Sydney asked gently. He sat up on the cot Lyle had ordered set up in his office, still fully clothed. "Can't sleep?"

His gentle voice and the concern in his questions coaxed her a few steps closer.

"I was wondering if you knew anything about----" She paused, obviously about to change her mind.

"About your families?" Sydney guessed shrewdly. Even in the dim lighting of the room he could see the glistening streaks of tear tracks on her face.

She nodded timidly, obviously afraid he was about to scold her, but two more tears slipped free and slid down her face.

"I'm sorry." Sydney told her regretfully. "I don't know anything about any of your folks."

"Oh." A sob escaped the little girl. "I'm sorry!" She whispered, whirling to leave. Sydney moved faster than he knew he could and intercepted her before she reached the doorway.

"No! Don't! Please!" She whimpered, cringing pathetically.

"Shhh," Sydney's restraining grasp on her arms gentled, and he slid his arms around her, going down on one knee to place himself on her level. "Shhh, Tilena, it's okay, I understand, it's okay to cry."

"No it isn't." She contradicted him through her sobs. "He'll be angry."

"He who? Mr. Raines?"

"Mr. Lyle."

"Mr. Lyle isn't going to hurt you, Tilena." Sydney soothed. "I'll make sure he doesn't hurt any of you any more."

Even as he comforted the sobbing child, he thought about Jarod as a boy. About the nights he'd left him to cry himself to sleep; about the experiments he'd allowed the boy to go through; about all the times he could have comforted Jarod and didn't. Helping these children wouldn't undo the harm he'd done, it wouldn't erase his guilt, but somehow, by choosing a different path this time, he was giving a meaning to the earlier suffering. Jarod's childhood misery was somehow-----tolerable, if it meant that he could have the courage to make the right choices this time.

This is for you, Jarod. He thought, holding the girl tighter. For you.

*****

"Damn it, Lyle, what the hell do you want from me?!" Jarod shouted, agony lacing his voice.

"Just wondering if you were able to find those "happy" thoughts you told me about once." Lyle gloated, applying the tip of the enhanced cattle prod to Jarod's already scorched and bruised torso.

He waited until Jarod shriek of agony died down, and casually asked him; "So, Jarod, want to run off again? I could leave you the key to the cell, you know."

"No." Jarod whispered hoarsely.

"Why not?" The rod glanced off of his biceps, making Jarod jump and raising a livid welt. Blood trickled down his chin from a bitten lip.

"Because I belong to the Centre." He panted obediently.

"Good!" A jab to the thigh brought forth another involuntary cry of pain. "And what do you call me?"

"Mr. Lyle." Jarod spat the name out bitterly.

"Very good." Jarod flinched as Lyle doused him with another bucket of cold water, and Lyle laughed unpleasantly.

"Don't try to make me believe you've broken already, Jarod. I know better." He picked up the prod, caressing it lovingly. "I didn't thank you for introducing me to this little baby, did I?"

Jarod just hung limply, eyes closed, conserving his energy for the next round of pain. Lyle couldn't break him, and they both knew it. This session was simply an opportunity for Lyle to indulge his sadistic nature and all Jarod could do was ride the agony and wait for Lyle to get tired and leave.

*****

"Don’t call me Meredith." Parker told the strangely familiar woman numbly. "My name’s Parker."

"Miss Parker?" Broots’ voice sounded from inside the living room. "Who is it?"

"I---I think it’s…" Parker’s voice trailed off dazedly.

She turned abruptly from her guests and stumbled back into her living room, moving straight past Broots and into the studio room that she hardly ever entered. The two women on her doorstep looked at each other in consternation before walking through the open door. Well, Jo walked through it, and dragged the reluctant Melisande with her.

"We don’t want to be seen at her front door, do we?" She hissed in response to Melisande’s inarticulate protest.

She casually kicked the front door shut with her foot and headed into the room, Melisande following slowly. Melisande studied everything, noting the sparse decor, the scotch decanter on the sideboard, the open door on the far end of the room. She didn’t notice Broots, staring at her in fascination, but Jo did.

"Who’re you?" She demanded of him truculently.

"I-I—I’m Broots." He stuttered miserably, his attention distracted from the other woman who looked so much like Parker.

"Broots." Jo murmured thoughtfully. "Yes, you’re name was on the list."

"What list?" Broots looked longingly at the open door leading to the studio room. He wished he could just walk after Miss Parker, the way that woman was, but he didn’t dare disturb her when she was as upset as she seemed at the moment.

"Never mind." Jo answered shortly, all too aware of the possibility of bugs.

"Let’s make some tea or something." Broots suddenly suggested, desperate for something to do. "I think we all could use a nice hot drink."

"Or a shot." Jo countered with a longing look at the scotch decanter. But she didn’t move towards it. She knew they were all going to need clear heads to plan out their next move.

"Don’t worry about bugs." Broots went on with more confidence, now that he was speaking about something he understood. "I’ve planted some jamming devices that will screw up anything they might have snuck in here while Parker was gone. We’re safe as long as we don’t try to use the phone."

"Okay, we’ll make some tea, or hot cocoa, or something while those two get acquainted." Jo agreed reluctantly, throwing a faintly worried look towards the studio door. The two women inside the studio could be heard murmuring, but nothing they said was understandable to her.

Inside the studio Parker was handing Melisande a photo album. Both women looked apprehensive and uncomfortable.

"Maybe we should sit down while you show me these?" Melisande asked nervously.

"Okay." Parker agreed briefly, still struggling to regain her composure.

After having Lyle sprung on her as a twin, she was understandably reluctant to learn of any new siblings, but something about Melisande drew her. Part of it could be the fact that even though she looked more like their mother, Melisande seemed to be the one who had her warmth, her generous heart, her open optimism. Parker wished that she could believe that Melisande wasn’t her sister, just being around her made her far too aware of her personal inadequacies, but something inside of her cried out that Melisande was more her mother’s daughter than she was.

"Let’s sit together on the couch." Melisande suggested impulsively, reminding Parker even more of their mother as she continued, "You can tell me who everyone is."

The smile she bestowed upon Parker was tremulous; hope, a desire to care, and fear of rejection all rolled into it. Parker found her lips curving into a warm, understanding smile in return. She didn’t know it, but at that moment she looked like Catherine Parker at her best.

"Okay." She agreed, her initial caution dissolving beneath Melisande’s obvious desire to care.

Lyle was a cold, self-absorbed, sociopath, the exact opposite of Melisande’s humanity. A part of Parker that she’d never allowed to show after Faith’s death came out and deepened Parker’s smile and brought a warm glow to her normally cold blue eyes.

"This is Daddy and Mom on their wedding day." She began, pointing to the smiling couple on the first page.

"She looks just like you!" Melisande gasped. A warm glow of happiness kindled in Parker’s stomach. She wasn’t sure if she liked the unfamiliar sensation, but had to admit that it felt nice.

"This is Mom with me, as a baby." Next to her Melisande gasped, running a trembling finger along the baby’s face.

"Do you have more pictures of you as a baby?" She whispered fearfully.

Parker was mystified, but willingly turned to more pictures of herself as an infant and toddler. She was astounded to see a tear trickling down Melisande’s face as she devoured the pictures with her eyes.

"What’s the matter, Melisande?" She spoke the name with some difficulty, an unexpected lump of emotion clogging her throat.

In response Melisande pulled a wallet out of her purse and turned to the transparencies holding the pictures. Another tear trickled down her cheek as she pointed to a picture of a smiling, auburn haired tot.

"Where’d you get that picture?" Parker breathed, inexplicably frightened. Melisande flipped the page and Parker saw the next picture, of the child snuggled happily in Melisande’s arms, while Melisande smiled lovingly down at her.

"She’s my daughter." She choked out. "She was kidnapped six months ago."

"Where’s her father?" Parker asked, fighting down an unnamed dread.

"She doesn’t have one." Melisande answered steadily. "When I left the hospital, after I recovered from the auto crash that killed my parents, I discovered I was pregnant with her."

"You think she----?" Parker couldn’t make herself ask the question burning in her heart. "No, not even the Centre could do that." She assured herself.

"I’m not sure who Kiara is, except that she’s my daughter and I love her. We’ve got to get her back." Melisande told her new sister. "Nothing else matters. "

"You think the Centre took her?" Broots asked from the kitchen doorway.

"Jarod did." Melisande confirmed sadly. "That’s why he let me turn him over to the Sweepers."

"Sydney!" Broots exclaimed suddenly, the light of enlightenment practically making his face glow. "That’s why he’s gone!"

"If we find Sydney, we find Kiara, is that what you’re saying?" Parker questioned, just to clarify her own thoughts.

"How can we find him, though?" Broots asked. The two were completely focused on each other, ignoring Jo and Melisande. It wasn’t intended as an insult, they were just so used to working with each other that they had forgotten about their guests for the moment.

"I think we should sleep on it." Jo suggested practically, eyeing the wall clock. It was close to midnight, and it had been a very long day already. As much as she wished she could find her daughter and husband right that minute, her practical side said that it was highly unlikely that any of them could be very effective as tired as they all were.

"She’s right." Melisande seconded wearily. "We’re in no shape to be plotting anything."

"You don’t know what the Centre’s capable of." Parker contradicted grimly.

"I think I might know more about that than you do." She shot back firmly. "They aren’t going to hurt Kiara now if they haven’t already. We won’t do them any good trying to rescue them tired and cranky."

"Fine!" Parker gave in with ill-grace. "Broots, you can have the guest room. Mel, you can sleep with me, Jo, I guess that leaves the couch for you."

"No problem, Meredith." Melisande responded with saccharine sweetness. "Just point me to the linen closet and I’ll help Jo get a bed made up."

Broots winced in anticipation of Parker’s explosion, but instead she gave her sister a wry grin and mouthed "Touché!" to her. Melisande’s return grin was friendly, but satisfied too. She hoped that she’d made the point with her sister.

"C’mon." Parker said decisively, leading the way to the linen closet. "I’ll help Broots make up the guest bed while you two make up the couch. My----sister," Parker said the word wonderingly, but with increasing warmth, "is right, we need to tackle this with clear heads."

"What about your daughter?" Jo asked Broots suddenly, remembering the notation on the list that Jarod had given her. "Where’s she? Is she okay?"

"Debbie is fine." Broots replied calmly. "She was visiting her Aunt and Uncle in New York when this all started---I told them she’d have to stay indefinitely when I had to rescue Parker a couple of days ago."

"What did you have to rescue Parker from?" Jo wondered.

"In the morning." Parker interrupted firmly, piling sheets and blankets into the arms of the people around her. "We’ll go over everything in the morning and then we’ll make a battle plan. This time the Centre won’t win."

"Jarod said something to me before he---left." Melisande said thoughtfully. "Something about Parkers being the Centre. He seemed to think that you and I working together would make the difference. He told me to find you, you know."

"He did?" Parker asked, touched. "Well, for once I think he was right. Together, Melisande, together we’ll set things right at the Centre."

"Together, Parker." Melisande agreed contentedly.

*****

Sydney had barely returned from tucking the exhausted Tilena back into bed when Willie and another Sweeper dragged Jarod into the office, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Your new assistant, Doc." Willie explained sarcastically. "He should be helpful, but if he isn’t give us a yell. Mr. Lyle wasn’t too happy when the big guy made him quit---he’d welcome the excuse to resume his persuasion."

Willie roughly prodded Jarod in the ribs, bringing forth a groan, and prompting the battered man to curl into a defensive ball. He grinned and drew back his foot for another prod when Sydney moved, pushing him back into the hall with a firm hand to the Sweeper’s chest.

"That’s enough!" He exploded quietly, mindful of the children down the hall. "I’ll handle it from here." He continued, standing protectively in front of Jarod.

"See that you do." Willie threatened smoothly, glaring at Sydney, who he’d never really liked. "Or Mr. Lyle might just get a chance at you too."

"You’ve done your job, now get out." Sydney glared back heatedly.

Willie complied, reluctance written in his movements.

"Just make sure he cooperates!" Willie managed one last threat. "Or it will go badly for both of you." He slammed the sturdy metal door at the end of the hallway firmly behind them, sliding the dead bolt shut with a decisive click.

Sydney ignored them, turning his attention to Jarod’s huddled form.

"Jarod, are you okay? Can you talk to me?" He queried urgently, rolling Jarod gently over onto his back.

"I’ll live." Jarod whispered hoarsely, not bothering to open his eyes. "I hurt like hell, though, and I’ll hurt worse tomorrow."

"Let me help you to the cot and see what I can do for you." Sydney urged, tugging insistently on Jarod’s arm when it seemed like he was going to pass out where he was.

Superficially there didn’t seem to be much wrong with him. He had a cut lip and a purple bruise graced one cheekbone from where Lyle had gotten too excited and backhanded him. He also had some welts and obvious burns on his upper arms and his wrists were chaffed and swollen from the manacles that had restrained him. It wasn’t until Sydney peeled off the navy blue T-shirt Jarod was wearing that the extent of his mistreatment became clear.

Livid, thin, red welts crisscrossed his chest and back while purple-blue bruises dotted a painful counterpoint and seeping burns graced the rest. Very little of his upper torso had been spared and Sydney began to swear like a sailor, not even realizing he did so. Jarod smiled painfully, amused and touched by Sydney’s distress.

"It looks worse than it is." He managed to tell him, his voice cracking from the strain of his previous yells and screams. "It’s all pretty superficial."

"Shut up!" Sydney told him fiercely, his heart aching at yet another attack on the man that he’d finally discovered he loved as a son. "This isn’t some trifle. You rest here; I’m going to get something to dress these with."

He turned and headed for the door, planning----well, he didn’t know what he planned, but he knew he was going to get something to ease Jarod’s pain somehow. Fortunately, Angelo met him at the door with a paper sack full of medical supplies.

"Jarod hurt." Angelo informed Sydney unnecessarily, holding out the bag to him. "Sydney angry."

"You’re damn right I’m angry!" Sydney snarled, snatching the bag from Angelo. "There was no reason to do this to Jarod! It served no purpose!"

He busied himself sorting the supplies in the bag, trying to regain his control. He rarely become so emotional, but when he did it usually seemed to involve Jarod.

"Sure there was." Jarod managed in the hoarse whisper that was all that was left of his voice. "It made Lyle’s whole evening. What did Willie mean when he said I was your assistant? What’s going on?"

"We’ll discuss it in the morning." Sydney said firmly, beginning to smooth white Silvadine cream onto the burns with a gentle hand. "You need to rest now."

"No, I need to know what devil’s deal you’ve made for me this time." Jarod contradicted painfully, wincing from the pain from his abused vocal chords as much as from the pain of Sydney’s ministrations.

"I haven’t made any deal at all, Jarod." Sydney countered, dark pain lurking in his eyes at Jarod’s accusation. "I’m as much a captive as you are."

Jarod flushed slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt at hurting Sydney, but also needing to vent his anger somehow.

"Then what is it they want? They’ve got to know by now that I won’t do any more Sims for them." Jarod argued.

"Help the children, Jarod." Angelo said gravely, his sad blue eyes fixed on his friend.

"Help what children?" Jarod demanded, wondering if Lyle had actually been stupid enough to put him together with Jo and Melisande’s missing family.

"The children that Lyle apparently intends to use to jump-start the Pretender Program." Sydney answered heavily, switching to an antibiotic ointment to daub on Jarod’s welts. "There are nine of them so far, ranging in age from approximately 18 months to 10 years old. The toddler has a man with her, her father, I think."

"Is he all right, and the baby?" Jarod demanded, knowing instantly who they had to be.

"He’s fine physically, but I’m not sure how he is emotionally. The little girl is quite healthy, though. She’s also very bright."

"Nine children?" Jarod repeated in shock, Sydney’s earlier words just now penetrating. "They have nine?"

"Yes. And Lyle says there will be more soon."

"How’d they get nine kids without me noticing?" Jarod wondered dazedly. "And what am I going to do now?"

"You’re going to take these and get some rest." Sydney told him firmly, handing him two tablets and a paper cup of water.

How Angelo had gotten a hold of such powerful painkillers, Sydney didn’t know, but he was grateful that the quiet man had. Jarod needed to rest, and these would see to it that he did. Jarod took the medication absently, force of habit making him obey Sydney while his mind was so preoccupied with the problem the extra children posed his half-formed plans.

"Tell me about the children." Jarod demanded suddenly, fixing Sydney with a demanding stare.

"After you lay down." Sydney countered firmly. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve been through an ordeal; you need to build up your strength."

"Okay." Jarod grumbled, but complied, climbing gingerly between the clean sheets of the cot.

"Well, Gannas is the oldest. He’s quite angry, which leads me to believe that he hasn’t been here long. Tasida is next, a beautiful young girl and full of compassion. She doesn’t remember any place but the Centre, apparently. Tilena is a newcomer, very protective of the younger children…" Sydney’s voice trailed off as Jarod’s eyes flickered shut and stayed that way.

"Sydney sleep too." Angelo ordered softly, indicating the second cot that he’d set up along the far wall while Sydney had been busy with Jarod.

"What about you, Angelo?" Sydney protested wearily. He was exhausted by the day, but determined not to ignore Angelo’s needs.

"Angelo watch, Sydney sleep." The quiet man declared firmly.

"If you’re sure.." Sydney sighed, his eyes closing as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was fast asleep before Angelo finished pulling up the covers over him.

Angelo settled himself into the comfortable leather chair behind the wooden desk and watched the two sleeping men with satisfaction. He had always loved Jarod, much like a brother, and he’d come to care very much for Sydney too. Sydney’s efforts to restore him to normalcy hadn’t gone unnoticed, even though Angelo had no verbal way to thank him. Now, though, Jarod and Sydney were back together and together they would put things right. Angelo had complete faith in the two of them, and knew that Miss Parker and Broots were also working to fix things. He knew, even though he didn’t know how, that soon the Centre would be restored to it’s former purpose---helping people. All he needed to do now was watch and wait.

*****

It was hot, too hot. He couldn’t breathe and fear clogged his throat when he tried to scream. He moaned helplessly, trapped in an invisible bubble.

"Don’t be afraid, mister." A childish voice reassured him as a small hand slid comfortingly into his own large hand. "It’s only a dream."

"I know." Jarod replied, realizing suddenly that he’d always known he was dreaming during his nightmares. "But it’s a scary dream."

"We’ll help you." Another young voice promised.

Two tow-headed, curly haired boys stepped out of the shadows surrounding him, and climbed into the bubble with him, settling themselves against his chest and throwing their arms around his neck.

"We’ll stay with you." They promised in one voice.

"Who are you?" Jarod demanded wonderingly, looking at the circle of solemn faces surrounding him.

He wasn’t afraid, in fact the two boys hugging him so tightly had loosened the bonds of loneliness and fear that had held him and filled him with a reassuring warmth.

"We’re the children, Jarod." The dark haired, Asian child answered gravely.

"We’re you." A little dark haired boy asserted seriously.

"We’re your friends." The blond girl declared quietly.

"I don’t understand." Jarod protested in confusion.

"It’s okay." The little girl holding his hand turned her familiar blue eyes on him, her grip tightening comfortingly. "We don’t understand either, but we know it will be okay."

Jarod’s head fell back slowly, oblivion claiming him again, but this time peacefully.

"Did we do it right?" Kiara asked the dark form in the shadows.

"You did it just right." Angelo approved, stepping into the dim light. "He’ll sleep better now."

"We’ll stay with him." The twins declared in unison. "We like him."

"We all like him." Tilena smiled softly. "But you two can stay with him for the first watch."

"Now, back to your own rest." Angelo urged. "Tomorrow will be another busy day."

"You rest too." The boy who looked so much like young Jarod declared. "We need you too."

"Don’t worry about me, children." Angelo assured them with a gentle smile. "I’m very good at taking care of myself."

The light in the strange, dream-like place faded slowly away, leaving only Jarod and the twins sleeping peacefully.

*****

"So, is everything in place?" He asked the other two men pleasantly enough.

It didn't fool them, though. Mr. Parker pulled nervously on his collar and Lyle's face grew stiff.

"Jarod and Sydney are with the children, if that's what you mean." Lyle answered with a semblance of calm. "Angelo is probably with them. I'm sure they've already started plotting."

"And your daughter?" The man asked Mr. Parker pointedly.

"She's at our----her house." He replied nervously. "The technician is with her."

"And what is she doing?" He demanded irritably, feeling like he had to pull every tidbit from the man forcibly.

"I don't know." Mr. Parker admitted, trying to hide his growing anxiety. "Our bugs stopped working as soon as she and Broots got there. Broots must have rigged up some sort of jamming device."

"I thought you told me that your daughter didn't suspect anything, that she was a loyal tool?"

Of course the man asking this question knew the answer to his own query better than Mr. Parker did. He knew that Mr. Parker, who would cheerfully sell out his own mother if it would profit him, had blinders on where Miss Parker was concerned. Her mother may well have been the only person he'd ever really loved, and she was the spitting image of her mother. He wasn't willing to see any signs of disloyalty in her, because he didn't want to take action against her.

The man considered Mr. Lyle, standing seemingly calm and unconcerned before him. Would he be a safer control for the wild card that Miss Parker presented? Could he be trusted to keep her in line, no matter what it took? Could he be trusted, for that matter, not to go too far and kill her? The Centre had a vested interest in keeping her alive, after all. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing was in order. A little attitude adjustment, and then she and the Pretender could get to work on their other function----producing more little Pretenders.

Hmmm, he considered thoughtfully, taken with the idea. Perhaps a trip to the renewal wing for both of them would be beneficial to the project in general? No, he corrected, remembering that he needed Jarod's individuality to train the youngsters in the new bunker. If the man refused to cooperate, then he could go to the renewal wing. They'd strip his mind bare and remake it, even if it did mean losing is valuable ability to become whoever he wanted to be. In the meantime, he needed Sydney and Jarod to work together---to repeat whatever magic Sydney had worked the first time to produce Jarod. No one else in any of the Centre branches around the world had managed to produce a subject nearly as capable as Jarod----not even with the clones of the man they'd produced.

"What is the status on my brother and the boy?" The man demanded coldly of Lyle. "And when are you going to reel in the rest of my--- dearest family?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

He hated his twin brother, the goody-two-shoes, the traitor. It had brought him no end of satisfaction to destroy his family and hound him for three decades. But his game had gotten out of hand. Margaret and Emily had been as elusive as a cloud in the desert, and Charles had vanished with the boy as thoroughly as hailstones in July. The boy was the closest they'd come to reproducing Jarod; lacking only a little in originality.

The plan had been to allow him some time with Charles, with a "real" father, to see if they could light that spark within him before bringing them both in. But one of them had realized the boy had a transmitter planted in him and managed somehow to remove it. It had taken them months to track down the goose that Charles had replanted the transmitter into and uncover the deception. They hadn't even suspected the ruse until the damn thing had headed south for the winter!

"We still have no clues as to the whereabouts of Major Charles and the Clone." Lyle said with a calm that he was far from feeling. He knew this kind of news could cost him his life. "But we've managed to locate Margaret---unfortunately, she doesn't seem to be doing well."

"What the hell do you mean?" He grated furiously. If that bitch escaped him now it would be too much!

"She's been in a mental institution for the past six months--- paranoid schizophrenia that is unresponsive to drugs. It would appear that her mind has simply snapped." Lyle told him, holding his breath as he waited for the man's response. For a moment it appeared that the response would be an eruption, but he finally managed to restrain himself.

"Bring her in!" He finally managed to choke out around his anger. "I want her evaluated by our own men. Even if she's mad as a hatter, she'll be leverage to use against Jarod."

"Very well." Lyle agreed, keeping his own doubts as to the wisdom of this course of action to himself. "I'll have her here at the Centre by this time tomorrow."

"And Emily?" The man asked dangerously. "What's the word on her apprehension?"

Lyle smiled a genuine smile for the first time that evening. He had good news for that one. "I spoke to my man just before you called me in." He began happily. "He thinks he'll have her within the hour."

"I want a report the instant he contacts you." He growled, unwilling to show how much he liked that news. "And I don't want any screw ups this time, got it?"

"Yes, Sir." Lyle agreed with submission he was far from feeling. "I'll notify you the instant I know one way or the other."

"It had better not be the other." Their leader told Lyle meaningfully. "I'm out of patience with this whole drawn out mess. I want results, or I'll start taking heads."

With that last threat he turned the chair on the two men, ending the interview. He knew they were both seething with barely suppressed rage as they left, and smiled unpleasantly, his mood lifting. Other than tormenting his brother Charles, the only thing that Clayton took pleasure in was tormenting his subordinates. He almost chuckled as he felt the black anger emanating from the two men.

*****

"So," Parker said grumpily over a cup of coffee in the kitchen. "You and Jo just thought I'd be able to solve all of these mysteries the moment you showed up? Well, I've got news for you--- I've been trying to solve mysteries since the day my mother was killed and I haven't come up with much."

She hadn't slept well. Strange dreams about little girls who looked like her, and little boys who looked like Jarod, and, for that matter, Jarod himself, had teased her mind all night. She had a splitting headache and a strange anxiety to be doing something. As usual, she was taking out her frustration on the people around her.

Instead of becoming angry in return, though, Melisande gave her a sympathetic smile and refilled her coffee cup. A moment later she placed a plate of breakfast food in front of her sister---eggs and bacon and hash browns that had been cooked to perfection.

"Where did you get this stuff?" Parker asked, taking a bite, even though she rarely ate in the morning.

"I went on a grocery run early this morning." Her sister told her calmly. "I couldn't sleep---I kept dreaming about Kiara and Jarod, and a bunch of other children too. I had to do something, so I inventoried your cupboards and went shopping. You should take better care of yourself."

"What are you trying to do?" Parker demanded angrily. "Alert the Centre that you're here?"

"From a distance I look just like you." Melisande replied gently, understanding Parker's real anxiety. "I took your car. I'm sure anyone who saw me thought I was you getting a little shopping in before I started my day."

"Mel, I don't shop." Parker explained wryly, her anger fading in the face of Melisande's good humor.

"So I noticed." Melisande returned with a grin. "Apparently you don't cook either."

"Cooking isn't one of my strong points." Parker admitted, trying to repress a smile.

"That's okay, Meredith," a raised brow told Parker the use of her hated first name was an intentional retaliation to Parker's use of the hated nickname. "I'm sure you have other redeemable qualities."

"I'm a crack shot." She admitted smugly. "And I speak several languages."

"Ohhh, which ones?" Melisande demanded eagerly. "Spanish? German? French?"

"Spanish and French." Parker agreed. "And Japanese, and a couple of others. Not that any of them are going to be of use for this situation."

"Thank you!" Jo exploded quietly. "I'd like to get my daughter back, if you two have finished playing family reunion!"

"Are you implying that I don't care about my daughter?" Melisande bristled hotly, plopping plates down in front of the other two.

"Whoa!" Broots intervened, his watchful gaze on Melisande admiring. "Let's not start fighting amongst ourselves."

"I'm sorry." Jo told her friend contritely. "I'm just so anxious to get to Steven and Midori."

"Then let's get down to business." Melisande offered generously, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. "How are we going to find them? It obvious that they aren't an open Centre project."

"Probably in an effort to keep Jarod from ruining things again. They've tried to restart the Pretender Project before, you know." Parker offered knowledgeably. "The question is, where could the Centre be hiding them?"

"Where couldn't they hide them?" Broots asked disconsolately. "The Center is enormous, we couldn't possibly search all of it."

"No," Parker contradicted him thoughtfully. "They couldn't keep the project anywhere in the Centre proper, or Angelo would have ferreted it out already. They've created another location for this."

"Where is Angelo, anyway?" Broots asked suddenly.

"What do you want to bet he's found the place already?" Parker questioned with growing optimism.

"Of course! He probably took Sydney there!"

"And Sydney got caught!"

Parker and Broots shot ideas off of each other with machine gun rapidity, their excitement mounting.

"So, is Sydney dead or alive then?" Jo's innocent question was like a bucket of cold water. Parker and Broots both paled dramatically.

"I don't know." Parker finally admitted with a sick feeling of dread. "But I'm going to find out." She added, anger coming to her rescue once again, and bringing the color back into her cheeks.

"Broots, you're going to find out where those shipments went to." She ordered him firmly, ideas solidifying in her head. "Mel, I'm wondering if I shouldn't take you in to work with me. I think that the shock of your arrival might just distract the Powers That Be long enough for us to crack this."

"Jarod said that our lives would be in danger if the Centre knew that we knew about each other." Melisande objected with little conviction. She was almost to the point where she no longer cared about the consequences, she just wanted to hold her daughter again.

"Jarod is not infallible." Parker declared grimly. "I'm almost positive that Daddy wouldn't let them really hurt me."

"I don't know." Melisande hedged, weighing the consequences. "What good do you think it would do if you took me in?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure Daddy doesn't know about you." Parker considered. "So your appearance would simply throw him off balance. Lyle sounds like the man you described as your contact last night, so he'd know about you, but he'd be busy trying to contain the fallout from your sudden arrival. Other than that, I'm not sure, except that shaking a tree usually brings down something of value."

"Okay." Melisande decided suddenly. "I trust your judgment. We'll go in together----but what about Jo?"

"We can't let them know she's here too---it would make it too clear that we're on to them. We've got to keep her hidden, and I'm not all that sure this house will be safe when I'm not in it."

"I'd suggest mine, but I'm not so sure it would be safe either." Broots frowned unhappily. He hated it when he had a problem with no apparent solution.

"I'll just go into town for the day." Jo snapped irritably. Logic forced to agree that it wasn't safe for her to go to the Centre, but she didn't have to like it. She wanted to be right there, ready to rescue her husband and daughter, and she was seething that she couldn't.

"Jo, maybe you should contact Anne. We might want her to be ready to mobilize the troops." Melisande suggested tactfully.

"What troops?" Parker demanded.

"Jarod has a lot of friends out there, Parker." Jo told the other woman smugly. "He's helped a lot of people and most of them are eager to show their appreciation. We've contacted a few, and they're contacting others. If it comes to a face off, the Centre will find they've bitten off more than they expected."

"Wow!" Broots eyes were round with admiration. "I wonder why Jarod never thought of that?"

"Because he's brain damaged." Parker dismissed scornfully. "He loves all that hero garbage. Heroes don't ask for help."

"Well, whatever the reason, we're asking now, and we've got resources. I'll sneak out the back and go through the woods to where we left the car. Meet me at the Sugar Shack when you guys get done playing "Secret Agent Men", okay? I'll be waiting." No façade of toughness would have been enough to hide the wistfulness in Jo's eyes as she made that announcement. She didn't wait for the others to respond, just swung out the kitchen door that led to the back of the property. She was halfway to her car before she heard the sound of Parker's car being fired up. She paused, and pulled out a small device, about the size of a cellular phone. After punching a few keys, she flipped it shut again and hurried to her vehicle. It was going to be a busy day.

*****

Jarod woke up slowly, and unfamiliar experience for him. A heavy weight pressed against his chest, but he didn't feel claustrophobic at all. He cracked an eye and looked down, unsurprised to see a small head covered with short, dark hair. So, his dream hadn't been a dream after all. He looked up and met Angelo's knowing eyes.

"I think I overslept." He whispered, cautiously rising from the cot and transferring the small girl onto the spot he'd just vacated. "It's going to be a busy day, I think."

"Much to do." Angelo agreed solemnly.

"Funny," He mused, stretching his cramped muscles. "I don't hurt nearly as badly today as I thought I would."

"Good." Angelo grinned, an impish expression that suited his young/old face remarkably well. "Busy day."

"Mmm." Sydney agreed softly, rising from where he'd settled young Mattais onto his own cot. Apparently the children had decided that Sydney needed watching through the night as well as Jarod. They were quite probably right about that too.

"We've got to test the children today, and give Lyle a reason to keep them around." He went on, his face a blank mask that still didn't manage to hide the sorrow in his eyes as he looked down on the sleeping boy. It was all beginning again, and he felt a yawning emptiness in his soul at the thought of being a part of it again.

"Or we could work on an escape." Jarod countered challengingly.

"Not today, Jarod." Sydney's tired smile didn't reach his eyes. Didn't the boy realize that this room was bugged, like every other room in the Centre? "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

Sydney's eyes flickered to the sprinkler heads protruding from the ceiling and back to Jarod's face. He saw Jarod's lips quirk and the infinitesimal nod of his head before Jarod replied. "Youth has nothing to do with right and wrong, Sydney."

:He wants you to talk him out of it.: A tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind. :He knows about the cameras, he's just putting on a show because they expect it of him.:

"Well, Jarod, I suppose that's for you to decide." Sydney replied dryly. "Personally, I think it would be wrong to get yourself killed making a grand gesture that wouldn't help the children anyway. You could do a lot more for them if you cooperated with me. They need you, you know."

Jarod sighed heavily, and a little overdramatically, letting his shoulders slump.

"I know, Syd." He surrendered sadly. "But I don't know how I can be a part of this. Not after my own experiences."

"It's your experiences that make you invaluable to the children. You can help them to achieve their highest potential without sacrificing their individuality because you've already been through all of this. Think about it, but start waking up the children for breakfast while you're thinking, okay?" Sydney smiled gently, an amused twinkle in his eye. He would never have expected to enjoy himself in such a grim situation, but this cloak and dagger doubletalk was surprisingly invigorating.

Jarod's lips twitched, he was enjoying himself too, but his expression was set into troubled lines when he turned for the door. Only someone who knew him well could have detected the sparkle of laughter lurking under the veneer of distress.

"Rise and shine, kids." He called, strolling slowly down the hallway. "We've got a busy day ahead of us!"

***** The woman alternated between pacing the sterile room, ceaselessly railing at an unseen adversary, and rocking mindlessly on the narrow bed provided her. The man watching her was revolted, his dreams of subjugating her spirited nature hopelessly shattered by the reality of her vacant eyes. He'd even gone so far as to enter the room, pretending to be his hated brother, but she hadn't acknowledged his presence by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. She was more completely lost to him than she would have been if she were dead. Her only value now was as a hostage against his nephew's cooperation and as possible bait to draw in his brother.

"I want her watched constantly." He told the impassive guard next to him. "If she shows so much as a hint of sanity I want to be notified immediately, regardless of the hour."

"Yes, sir." The man answered tonelessly, his eyes flickering briefly over the woman in the room. "You will be notified immediately."

Clayton paused a moment to glare again at the oblivious woman in the cell. To say he was unhappy would be a bit of an understatement; he was furious and someone was going to pay for his frustration. Margaret should have been located and brought in long ago. She should have been his, and her insanity should have come at his hands.

"I want Mr. Parker and his son in my office in ten minutes." He finally snarled, choosing his victims with deep satisfaction. It was their fault, after all, that things had gone so badly awry, and only right that they should pay.

*****

"NO! You can't take her! I won't let you hurt her!" His eyes were wild as he curled into a ball in the corner, his daughter carefully wrapped in the middle.

"We won't hurt her." Sydney responded soothingly. "We just want to see just how smart she is."

Steven Bartlett allowed one wary eye to fix on the psychiatrist's face.

"You said you were going to test her." He accused.

"An intelligence test." Sydney assured him gently.

"No electric shocks?" He asked, his voice pleading and as plaintive as a toddler's. "No pain?"

"None at all." Sydney's face turned grim for an instant, as the import of Steven's questions sank in, but he smoothed it back into geniality when Steve immediately flinched back.

"Steve, you need to let Jarod take Midori into the testing room, but you can watch with me while he tests her, okay?" Sydney coaxed again.

"You'll release the child now, Bartlett, or visit my playroom." Lyle's smooth voice interposed.

How he could sound so pleasant and yet sinister at the same time was a puzzle that Sydney still hadn't figured out.

"Stay out of it, Lyle." Jarod replied instantly. "We'll handle it our own way."

"My way is your way, Jarod." Lyle returned in the same pleasant voice. "If you've forgotten that perhaps you should join Bartlett."

"Stop it!" Sydney snapped, coming between the two men with a harried expression on his face. "Lyle, you can't interfere with our work and still expect the results you want. Jarod, quit needling Lyle, he's our boss in this matter."

Lyle and Jarod continued to glare at each other while Steven Bartlett held his daughter tightly to him. Any other child her age would have cried out in protest by now, but Midori was no ordinary child, as all in the room were well aware.

"If either of them give you any more trouble, they'll visit me later." Lyle told Sydney menacingly, breaking the tableau. "As you pointed out, I am the boss here."

"A word with you in private, Lyle." Sydney replied evenly, only the white brackets around his mouth betraying his rage.

He didn't give Lyle a chance to answer, but pulled him out of the room with a surprisingly firm grip on the younger man's arm. Jarod started after them, but Sydney stopped him with a pointed glare and he had the grace to look faintly apologetic. He was too clever not to realize that baiting Lyle was a losing proposition.

"You reassure Mr. Bartlett." Sydney ordered sharply. "I'll speak to you later."

Jarod's eyes widened briefly in shock. He couldn't remember ever having heard Sydney use that tone of voice on him before. He remained rooted to the spot until the door closed behind the other two men.

"Don't let him hurt her." The man on the floor whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Jarod dropped into a crouch in front of the man, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Sydney and I aren't here to hurt any of you." He assured the man compassionately. "But I'm afraid that Lyle will hurt you if you obstruct our work. We're doing our best to protect all of you and we need your help to keep Lyle and his men away from all of the children."

"Me?" Steve asked incredulously, his grip on Midori seeming to comfort him more than it did her.

"Yes. You know the children, and they accept you as one of them because of Midori." Jarod explained carefully, his mind racing for a plausible way for Steve to help them.

He knew almost as much about psychology as Sydney, and he knew that protecting Midori was the only reason Steve had been able to retain any independent thought after Lyle's programming. He also knew that once he believed Midori was safe there was a very good chance that Steve would give up entirely-he might not commit suicide openly, but he'd waste away into nothing without a purpose to give him direction.

"They know that you aren't going to hurt them, and they trust you." Jarod went on, his quick mind settling on a plan. "So if you check out our tests ahead of time, and reassure them that they won't get hurt doing them, then the children will perform better. They know you have no reason to lie to them, not with Midori going through the same tests that they are, and they need the confidence you can give them to do their best work.

"Steve, I grew up here at the Centre." Jarod confided quietly, noting with approval that Steve's grip on Midori had loosened and that the man's trembling had nearly ceased. "I know that every child here is in danger if the Centre doesn't think they are going to be an asset. Children who don't make the grade, like Angelo was, have terrible things happen to them. Sydney and I don't want that to happen to any of the little ones here. Will you help us?"

He finished his plea and waited with bated breath for Steve's response. As he'd made his argument he realized that he was speaking more truth than he'd known when he began. Steve would be a valuable asset and the children were honestly in danger he and Sydney didn't come up with some pressing reasons for to be left with their minds intact.

"You'll show me every test beforehand?" Steve finally asked suspiciously.

Jarod released the air he'd been holding in a silent sigh of relief.

"Yes." He promised sincerely. "Why don't we start with showing you what we are doing with Midori today? I'll show you to the observation room while Midori stays in the gym with Tilena. We don't want her to see any of it ahead of time, because it might affect her performance, but you can watch while we test Timmit. He, Mattais, Ricard, and Midori will all have exactly the same tests administered."

"What if Timmit is frightened?" Steve asked cautiously. "What if he won't cooperate with you?"

Jarod smiled.

"I think that all of the children will cooperate." He assured Steve gently, a sparkle of humor lighting his brown eyes. "They're very bright, and the tests will seem more like games than tests to them. Sydney and I spent half of last night working out the details so they'd be fun and not a chore."

"Okay." The man agreed, but his eyes were still shadowed with worry. "But I won't lie to any of the children." He added in a rush of words. "If you do anything to hurt or frighten Timmit, I won't tell the other children that it's okay."

"I wouldn't ask that of you. Just watch what happens, you'll feel better for it. Now, let's take Midori to join the other children in the gym. We received some play equipment before breakfast this morning that they other children are already enjoying."

"Thwings?" Midori asked, her baby mouth having a little trouble with the "s" sound, but her chubby face lit up with anticipation.

"Actually, yes." Jarod smiled down at her.

Steve accepted the hand Jarod held out to him and rose to his feet. The two men headed for the hallway, only Jarod's concern for Sydney marring the perfect accord.

`He should have been back by now.' Jarod worried silently to himself. `What's happening?'

*****

Jo climbed the rickety stairs as if she'd been up them a hundred times instead of this being her first visit to the dilapidated building. She looked carefully around, verifying that no one had followed her, before opening the door and entering the building.

"Well?" A quiet female voice asked her as she paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the room.

The room was small, only 10' x 12', with a door leading further into the building on the far wall. It was also barren of any furniture other than a camping cot in one corner, and a card table in the center of the room under a dirty skylight. The card table held a laptop computer, a mug that steamed gently with some hot liquid, and behind it was a slender, dark haired woman. Her brown eyes were studying Jo with the same intensity that Jo was studying the room.

"I planted the device on her high heels last night. It took me almost 30 minutes to get here, so I think that they'll be at the Centre in another 15 minutes or so." Jo answered breathlessly, her heart pounding surprisingly fast with excitement and trepidation.

"Give me the homer." The woman demanded impatiently, the fingers of her right hand flying over the keyboard while she held out her left hand demandingly.

Without hesitation, Jo handed over the small device she'd activated just after leaving Miss Parker's home. The woman behind the computer connected it to her computer, clicked a few more keys, and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of Miss Parker's voice.

"Now just follow my lead." She was ordering quietly, the words almost obscured by the sound of two pairs of heels clicking across the marble floor. "This should be quite interesting."

"You can say that again." The woman eavesdropping on them murmured, brushing back a strand of glossy brown hair behind one ear.

Jo couldn't really estimate her height while the woman remained seated, but she suspected that it was closer to Jo's own 5' 6" than her brother Jarod's 6' plus. Her brown eyes, though, held the same piercing intelligence and keen curiosity as Jarod's, and there was something in the compassion in her smile that reminded Jo irresistibly of Jarod.

"Everything's going according to plan?" She asked, not liking the breathless note of worry in her voice.

Emily looked up from her computer screen and gave Jo her full attention, that compassionate smile on her face at full force.

"We're doing great." Emily assured her gently. "Lyle's men picked up Rachel last night and he should be presenting her to my Uncle in moments. If we're really lucky, he'll imprison her somewhere near my mother."

"Isn't he going to know Rachel isn't you?" Jo questioned, worry for Rachel, who she'd never actually met, surfacing belatedly.

"It depends on how well he's studied my dossier." Emily replied, her face grim. "My guess is that he has studied it well, and he'll know immediately that they've picked up the wrong man. Rachel knows the danger, but she was willing to try. We hope that Clayton will place her somewhere near Mother, and we've done our best to hide some tools on her that won't be discovered when she's searched."

"Then what?" Jo demanded. She knew there was more to the plan, but Emily and the others had refused to share it with her while there was a chance she might fall into Centre hands. "How does any of this help Jarod and rescue our families?"

Emily's attention never wandered from the computer screen as she answered Jo.

"Rachel is supposed to escape, liberate mother, and locate Miss Parker and Melisande, filling them in on the situation. We're counting on Miss Parker having ferreted out Jarod and the children's location by then. Once they reveal that, Rachel will break them out of the complex while I lead in reinforcements to rescue Jarod and the others."

Jo frowned, spotting the flaws in a plan that hinged as much on luck as strategy.

"This sounds awfully risky." She objected quietly.

"Yes, it is." Emily agreed readily. "But it's the best we could come up with. The Centre has simply been too good for too long at covering themselves. We've got to take a chance to draw them into a vulnerable position. But Rachel's involvement is the key. With her connection to the FBI, she's our ace in the hole. They'll protect her, so either way the Centre is doomed."

A feral smile graced Emily's lips as she shared the last bit. All of her life had been aimed towards the downfall of the organization that had destroyed her family. Success was so close she could taste it, and she could hardly wait for it all to be over. She couldn't conceive of a moment when she wasn't running from the Centre, didn't have a clue what she'd do if she didn't have to worry about outwitting them at every turn, but she longed for the chance to know what "normal" meant.

Freedom. Peace. Security. Those words had been her holy grail for her entire existence. She wouldn't rest until she achieved them, not just for herself and her family, but for everyone the Centre had damaged in their ruthless quest for power. Soon---soon the Centre would be no more. Soon her mother and brother would be free. Soon it would all be over.

***** "Is he okay?" Tilena demanded silently of Kiara as she pushed a crowing Midori in the new swing.

"Timmit and Angelo are both fine." Kiara answered evasively. "But I still haven't found Sydney. The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle and Mr. Lyle made Sydney go with him. I lost them. I still haven't found where the Bad Man stays."

"What about Angelo? He knows almost everything about this place." Tilena suggested with the calm practicality that attracted the younger children to her.

"He's been looking too. The Bad Man is hidden awfully well."

Tilena bit back a sigh of disappointment, relaying their failure to Gannet and Tasida with a sad shake of her head. They tried not to make use of their silent mode of communication too often, knowing that they ran the risk of discovery every time they did, but Kiara used it effortlessly and often. When they discussed their plans for freedom her ease in communicating was a boon, but one day soon Tilena knew one of the younger children was going to let something slip. She was almost beginning to think that it wouldn't matter anyway. Somehow she doubted that any of them would ever see the outside world again, unless they had been first changed as horribly as Angelo had.

"Jarod could find him." Tasida's slanted blue eyes fixed on Tilena's. The color was startling with her obviously Asian parentage, but it only enhanced her obvious beauty.

"We'd have to tell him. He couldn't dismiss it as a dream anymore." Tilena objected worriedly.

"We have to tell him sometime." Gannas pointed out practically. "He already knows, inside. We all did, didn't we?"

They referred to the mental link that bound all of the Centre's special children. As soon as they'd come into proximity with each other the ability had manifested, except in Kiara's case---she'd already been using a form of it with her beloved animals long before the Centre had reclaimed her. That was why she was the bond between them when they conferenced as a group. She linked even the youngest of them into the web of thoughts with unconscious ease. Even Angelo wasn't on her level when it came to meshing them into a smooth gestalt.

It was Jarod and Angelo's ability to link with them, even though it was unconscious on Jarod's part, which let the children know that Jarod and Angelo were one of them, in spite of the fact that they were adults. Sydney's obvious inability, in that respect, was part of the reason many of the children were still so suspicious of him, although his fierce protectiveness for Jarod was beginning to win even the most wary of them over. The children's fear was that one of the adults, or one of the younger children, would reveal this ability. Even though they all suspected Gannas' prediction that none of them would leave the Centre was accurate, they all, Gannas included, continued to cling to the hope that they might one day released. The four older children, however, knew without a doubt that if the knowledge of their link was leaked to Lyle none of them would ever see freedom again. They tried to make the younger children understand the severity of the threat, but for all that they were bright kids, a young child was a young child. The little ones simply couldn't conceive of unending captivity.

Tilena sighed worriedly. She knew she wasn't old enough for this responsibility, but there wasn't anyone else. Gannas was too angry, and the younger children were a little afraid of him. Tasida was too quiet and Tilena could tell that she was terrified of angering the people who held the children in their power. Only she was old enough to consider the future, calm enough to express the dangers to the little ones without frightening them, and courageous enough to reach out to the adults that they hoped they could trust to help them. And only she knew just how frightened she really was.

********

"Daddy, I want you to meet someone." Parker's voice dripped with poisonous satisfaction. "My sister, Melisande."

The eavesdroppers clearly heard the sound of a man choking, and then Parker's voice again, sounding almost reluctantly concerned.

"Are you going to be okay, Daddy? Should I call a doctor?"

"Where did she come from?" Mr. Parker's voice was ragged and sounded like that of a man who'd had the axis of his world tilted savagely to one side.

"She found me." Miss Parker told him, the bitterness in her voice subdued. "Don't tell me you didn't know about her."

"I didn't, Angel." Mr. Parker told her anyway, his voice serious. "But I think it's past time you and I had a long talk."

"So you can tell me yet another convoluted lie?" She returned, the bitterness surging back to its previous level. "Don't bother."

"Mr. Parker, the big guy called for you." A Centre courier briefly stuck his head in the room to deliver his message and then ducked back out to continue his rounds.

"Damn! Not now!"

"Daddy?" Once again Parker's voice sounded uncertain.

"Come with me, Angel." He ordered, with the air of a man who'd decided to finish his course of action no matter what the consequences. "I have to talk to you before I answer that summons."

"Who is the "big guy"?" Parker asked curiously. "I thought Mutumbo was dead."

"He is."

That was all the listeners heard for a few moments, until the clicking of heels on marble gave way to the soft rustling of feet in grass.

"Your mother loved this place." Mr. Parker murmured, his voice radiating both joy and sorrow.

"Tell me about Mother, Daddy." Parker demanded, her voice harsh with grief and suspicion. "Tell me about Ethan and Melisande. No more lies, no more evasions."

"No, no more." Mr. Parker agreed sadly. It was utterly silent for several long moments, then Mr. Parker began to speak in the detached voice of a man who felt too much to express.

"I can't tell you about Melisande, Angel, because I don't know anything about her. I agree that there's a good chance she's your sister-the resemblance is simply too uncanny, but I don't know anything about her conception or birth. As for Ethan." He sighed heavily. "I let the Triumvirate talk me into it. Into impregnating your mother while she was sedated from her surgery."

Here he let out a harsh bark of laughter, laughter that held no mirth whatsoever.

"They were tying her tubes." He confessed bitterly.

"It must have galled you." Parker jabbed mercilessly. "To have to keep her alive until after the birth."

"That's why I agreed to the procedure in the first place!" Mr. Parker roared back. "It was the only way to keep her alive. I was lobbying the Triumvirate to have her sent to the renewal wing instead of killing her. Raines fed her those lies that I was trying to kill her. Raines tricked her into putting herself into his care. Raines killed her!"

"You're lying to me again." Parker whispered shakily.

"No." Mr. Parker's voice was thick with tears. "No, I loved your mother. You and your mother are the only people I've ever been able to love. I would have done anything to keep her alive, even let them remake her mind."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Parker was still suspicious, and sounded it. "Why did you lie to me for all those years?"

"You're so like your mother." Mr. Parker declared sadly. "I was so afraid you'd start to annoy the Triumvirate like she did. I couldn't bear to lose you too, Angel. Without you I can't go on."

"Is that why you ordered Tommy's death?" She demanded, her own tears thickening her voice.

"Yes." He admitted quietly, self-disgust soaking the word. "Raines had already threatened to eliminate you-you know no one leaves the Centre alive-and."

"And?" Parker prompted when his voice trailed off into silence.

"And I was jealous of him. I wanted you to look at me with that much love. I'm sorry, Angel. He was a good man. But if I hadn't sent Brigitte to kill him you would have both died, and probably everyone else on the plane you'd have been taking to Portland with you."

"I don't believe you." But she did. It was clear in the sick acceptance in her voice.

"Listen, Angel, we don't have much time left-I have to go see him. There's a reason I told you all of this. Times are bad right now. He's out of control, his obsession with Charles and his family overtaking every ounce of sense he used to have. I might not come back from this meeting. I might end up at the renewal wing-or dead. You have to keep digging, dear. Find out how to take him out of the equation. It's the only hope we Parkers have. Remember, Parkers *are* the Centre. And take care of your little brother if anything happens to me, okay?"

"Daddy?" Parker's voice sounded little-girl-like in its uncertainty. "Who is he?"

"You're about to meet him." Willie the Sweeper's voice sounded cheerfully in answer. "All of you." He added a moment later.

"No, my daughter has nothing to do with this. She doesn't have the clearance." Mr. Parker protested angrily.

"You should have thought of that before you started leaking secrets to her." Willie was implacable.

"Move, and keep your hands where I can see them."

*****

"Well? Just who is that woman and why isn't Emily in her cell?"

Oh, shit! So great was his dismay, Lyle was afraid for a moment that he'd said those words out loud until Clayton's annoyed look made it clear that he hadn't said anything at all.

"No." He admitted reluctantly. "I don't know who she is. I take it my man brought her in instead of Emily."

"You assured me you had her." Clayton accused poisonously.

"Given the care with which this deception was carried out," Lyle began carefully, mind racing as he tried to figure out how to come out of this latest setback with a whole skin. "I'd say we do have her."

"Explain that comment, and make it good." Clayton's rage wasn't appeased in the slightest. He suspected, correctly, that Lyle was simply twisting things to save himself.

"Whoever this woman is, she obviously set herself up as Emily to my men. Therefore, it follows that she knows where Emily is. She has to be working with her in some way."

Sydney, all of his formidable instincts screaming that he was in danger and far safer if no one noticed him, withheld his immediate contradiction. But Clayton noticed it anyway.

"You disagree, Sydney?" He purred, his bad temper smoothing over as he made both men squirm.

"Not with his assessment that Emily is working with the woman, but Emily isn't stupid---the woman won't have any idea where she is, and she probably doesn't even know what Emily is up to." Sydney admitted reluctantly. He knew this assessment wasn't likely to endear him to either of the men, and he was right.

"So now you're an expert on Emily as well as Jarod?" Lyle snarled viciously. "Just remember, old man, I'm the one who finally brought him in."

"What do you mean, she won't know what Emily is up to?" Clayton demanded dangerously. "What makes you think the girl is up to anything?"

"Clayton, I told you years ago that it was in your best interest to give up on Charles and his family. You may consider their compassion for others a weakness, and maybe it is, but it doesn't make it impossible for them to fight back. You've obviously pushed at least one of the family too far, and she's going to take you out, and anything else that stands in her way." Sydney sighed. "You've persisted in seeing their inability to destroy everything in their path as incompetence, but you have to know, on some level at least, that Charles is far more competent than you give him credit for. And Emily has obviously inherited his stubborn nature. If I were you, I'd turn the woman loose, where she can't strike out at the Centre."

Lyle's immediate response was cut off by Clayton's upraised hand, while Sydney did his best not to quail under the harsh, cold look of contempt Clayton leveled on him.

"I suppose you'd have me release the boy too? Perhaps he and his sister are working together on all of this?" He asked with sinister calm.

"I doubt they're working together." Sydney admitted. "But yes, you know I think you should release him too---we simply trained him too well. He'll escape again, somehow, and who knows what he'll do on the way out, or after he's free? In fact," Sydney made up his mind in a rush and decided to be completely honest for the first time in years. After all, they needed him for their new project, so they weren't going to do anything worse to them than they'd already done, and once he'd been a respected member of the leadership of the Centre. Clayton knew that underneath his obsession, maybe he could make him listen.

"In fact, I'd release all of the children, shut down every illegal and immoral project we have going, and return the Centre to what it was originally intended to be-an organization for the advancement of mankind. If we did that, we'd still be profitable beyond the Triumvirate's wildest dreams, the money we'd save on all those Sweepers and Cleaners alone would make just one of you richer than Gates, and we wouldn't have to keep looking over our shoulders. I know Jarod, Charles, and the rest of the family would then leave us alone."

"I see." Sydney's heart sank at the loathing in Clayton's voice, knowing he'd done the unforgivable-he'd attacked the man's obsession. "I believe that you've earned yourself a trip to the renewal wing, Doctor. In fact, I think I'll have both women join you."

"Uhh, Sir," Lyle spoke up reluctantly. "The renewal techniques don't work on the insane."

"Margaret is no more insane than I am." Clayton bit out. "And where is your father?"

As if his arrival had been timed by a director for maximum impact, Mr. Parker walked through the door with two, very similar looking women following him.

*****

Jarod tried to hide his concern for Sydney as he led Timmit back to the room where the other children waited, seated in a silent circle.

"What are you doing?" He tried to make his voice cheerful and encouraging, but couldn't force a smile to his worried face.

:Waiting for you.:

Jarod controlled his start of surprise.

"We're imagining stories." Tilena, the child who'd just blown his socks off with the first mental message answered seriously. "If you get us some paper and pencils later we can write them down and maybe you can send them to our families."

"I'd be happy to get some writing materials." Jarod agreed uneasily.

:We have to help Sydney.: Tilena continued, as if she hadn't spoken. :Don't answer out loud, think at us.:

:Think at you? Can you *all* do this?: Jarod wondered, feeling like he was living through an emotional earthquake.

:All of the Centre children can. Don't you remember? Angelo does.:

In an instant he had a vivid image of himself, Kyle, and Timmy, each in their own rooms, lying on their own rough cots, but sharing the day's events with each other. It was the pain of Kyle and Timmy's mistreatment at the hands of Raines that had made him close down the link and bury the memory.

:Not just the pain. They have a drug too-it makes us forget.:

:But you haven't forgotten. Angelo didn't forget.:

:Angelo's mind is different now. He accesses parts most people don't even know about because of Mr. Raines. And he helped us to remember after we got here. After a while, we built up a tolerance to it, just like you and Kyle did eventually.:

:So what do you need? What's wrong with Sydney?: With an effort Jarod brought his mind back to the present, and whatever was serious enough to make the children blow a cover they obviously hadn't wanted to expose yet.

:The Bad Man sent for Mr. Lyle, and Mr. Lyle made Sydney come with him. The Bad Man doesn't like Sydney.:

:The Bad Man doesn't like anybody.:

Jarod thought that was contributed by Kiara.

:But we can't find the Bad Man.:

:Who is the Bad Man?: Jarod wanted to know.

:You know. You saw him.:

Jarod pictured Major Charles in his mind, and tried to project that image to the children.

:No, not him. The other one.:

:??:

:His brother, dummy.: Gannas' attitude made his sending clearly his own. :The Bad Man is that man's brother. Probably identical twins.:

Of course! Jarod thought to himself, almost dizzy with relief. I should have known that. Dad has a twin!

:So, if we find the Bad Man, then what? What else can you children do?: Jarod asked curiously.

:We don't know yet. But we all like Sydney. He wanted to help us, and we want to help him.:

:Okay, give me some time to think about this. We'll figure out something, but later.:

"Well," he said aloud, stretching obviously, "That's enough imagining, I think. I'll get you some paper and things soon to write your ideas down. In the meantime, Mattais, I think it's your turn to play some games with me. Want to come watch, Steve?"

The man, looking calmer than he had since Jarod had arrived simply shook his head no and cuddled Midori.

"Thank you." He finally managed to say. "I'm glad you let me watch Timmit but I've seen everything I need to see. I'll stay with the children now."

Jarod nodded briefly, with a smile to reassure the nervous man that he didn't mind his decision, and took Mattais by the hand. His heart trembled as the boy put his hand trustingly into Jarod's, skipping cheerfully along by his side. Jarod hadn't spent much time with children, and he was dumbfounded by their simple faith in him and Sydney.

:That's `cause we know you're good men. Your mind is kind of warm and fuzzy, like ferret fur, and Sydney's is all green and glowy, like leaves in the park.:

Jarod knew without a doubt that Kiara had contributed that.

Ferret fur? He wondered to himself. Is that good or bad?

:'S good. I like ferrets. They're funny and smart and nice.:

:No more mind-talk, Kiara!: Tilena scolded.

:But I have to tell him something important!: The little girl protested indignantly. Then, before anyone could stop her, continued. :My mommy is here, and she's with someone who "feels" like her, only not the same.:

Melisande? Meredith? Jarod speculated. Things just keep getting better and better, don't they?

:So we have to find them too.: Jarod didn't have the heart to scold Kiara for that last little bit, not when he "felt" the wistful longing that accompanied it.

:I'm working on it, I promise.: He "sent" to them all. He kept the fear that all the work in the world wouldn't get them out of this mess to himself.

*****

"Okay, who the hell is this "he" everyone keeps talking about?" Jo demanded dangerously.

"He's my uncle." Emily told her absently, her eyes focused on a blueprint of the Centre. "He and my father and Mr. Parker started the Centre long before I was born. Then, somehow, Uncle Clayton began to take more and more authority until he ousted Dad and reduced Mr. Parker to head of the Blue Cove branch. He put in his own yes men, kidnapped my brothers, and it's been downhill ever since. He's insane, and jealous of Dad. That's what all of this is about. He wants revenge on Dad."

"Revenge for what?"

"For being born."

"And my husband and daughter? Kiara? What do they have to do with it?"

"They're simply involved to make money for the Centre. They were genetically engineered to have special abilities. Uncle Clayton doesn't consider them people, he thinks of them as cattle-even Jarod and me."

"You were genetically engineered?"

"Yeah. Me and my brothers are IVFs, just like your Midori and Mel's Kiara. Before we were implanted, we were tampered with. My brothers and I had our intelligence enhanced. Sound's like Kiara might have been enhanced too. Midori was taken too young for us to know what she might be capable of."

"IVFs?"

"In Vitro Fertilization. It gave the scientists a window of opportunity to manipulate the zygotes."

"Damn those people!"

"There's only my uncle left to damn." Emily told her matter-of-factly. "Mutumbo's death took out the last of his replacement Triumvirate. There's no one to rein him in anymore."

"We can't wait any longer, then. My daughter, your brother, your friend, they're all in the hands of a certifiable madman. We've got to get rid of him, rescue them!"

"We have to find him first." Emily told the distraught woman calmly. "That's what this is all about. We've been trying to find where he hides for years now. This is the closest we've gotten."

********

"Angelo? Angelo can you hear me?" The smaller man stood beneath the large ventilation grill in his workroom, wringing his hands nervously. "Please, Angelo, answer me!"

"Why?"

The innocent question caught Broots by surprise, making him jump and swirl. Behind him was the very man he was seeking.

"Why Broots scared?" Angelo amplified.

"Because they took Miss Parker away!" He returned frantically. "One by one we're being whisked away. We've got to find out where she is and rescue her."

"Took her to see him." Angelo told him, less than helpfully. "Him bad."

"Right, now there's a newsflash. I don't suppose "him" has a name?" Broots questioned with sarcasm worthy of Parker.

"Clayton." Angelo supplied calmly. "Clayton bad, Charles good. Sad day."

"Wait a minute." Broots held out one hand to stem Angelo's surprising volubility, his formidable brain turning over his brief encounter with Jarod. His suspicion fit, like the end to an if statement in programming.

"Clayton-he's Major Charles' brother, isn't he? He's the power on the throne isn't he? That explains so much!" Broots half-asked, half-declared to Angelo.

"Yes, Broots understands." Angelo smiled cheerfully, a little boy who's work of art had been correctly interpreted by the slower thinking adults around him.

"Yes, I think I do." Broots breathed, almost to himself. Suddenly the obsession with recapturing Jarod, the cloning of him, the single minded pursuit of every one of Jarod's family, even the order to kill if the quarry couldn't be retrieved, it all made sense.

"But what can we do?" He questioned a moment later.

"Free Jarod. Free children. Free Miss Parker and Sydney. Catch Clayton." Angelo explained confidently. "Emily help. Emily friends help. First, find Clayton. Clayton hides too good."

"Do you have any idea where to start looking?" Broots asked the other man.

"The Tower."

"The Tower's still a lot of ground to cover. Maybe I can narrow it down some." Broots mused. "After all, he's got to have a computer, and a phone. I know every computer purchased by the Centre is recorded, and there has to be some record of all the phone jacks put in. No way that could have been accomplished in a place this big without some sort of paperwork to keep it all straight."

"Angelo go to Jarod. Jarod scared."

"We all are, Angelo." Broots assured him somberly. "Go on, do what you can."

Angelo smiled sweetly at the smaller man and wriggled with amazing agility into the ventilation shaft behind him. Broots was already inspecting the computerized records before Angelo had even replaced the grill behind him, but oddly enough, his worried thoughts quickly slid away from the features of Parker to those of her quieter, and gentler sister. Somehow he was more worried for her, thrust unknowing into the machinations of the Centre, than for Parker, who had grown up battling Centre schemes. He didn't realize it yet, but his infatuation of Parker had shifted suddenly onto her sister.

*****

"Major Charles?" The question slipped from Parker's lips before she could stop it.

But she corrected herself almost immediately, for unlike Jarod she wasn't too shocked to see the minute differences between the two men. Clayton was paler than his brother, since he rarely ever left the Tower, and the wrinkles covering his face were those brought from scowling, not smiling. It was clear to her that Clayton wasn't the same man she'd threatened in a Centre holding cell.

"No, you aren't. But you're related to him." She retracted in the next breath.

"Perceptive." He growled shortly. "Too bad your intelligence wasn't available for Centre purposes. Now, I'm afraid, there won't be much left after your visit to our---specialists."

Parker's blood ran cold, but years of practice in containing her reactions kept her face a smooth, emotionless mask.

"No!" Mr. Parker burst out next to her. "Clay, you swore you'd never---"

"Stubble it!" Clayton cut the other man off brusquely. "If you'd kept your family in line I wouldn't have had to resort to such extreme measures. But your wife was a menace, and your daughter is rapidly following in her footsteps. It's the Renewal Wing, or the Freezer."

"No, Daddy." Parker restrained her father with an unusually gentle hand on his arm when he would have attempted to physically attack the man behind the desk. "It's useless. He holds the cards for now."

"Very sensible." Clayton smirked. "If only you'd chosen to be sensible earlier."

His need to inflict pain on others temporarily assuaged, Clayton turned his attention to the other people in the room.

"Lyle, return Sydney to his duties. I don't want to see him here again unless I've actually summoned him. And get me Emily, or join your family in the Renewal Wing. Syd, I expect results from the children soon. As for you, Melisande," he smiled maliciously at her start of surprise. "Yes, I know of you. We've been searching for you for some time. I haven't quite decided what to do with you. While you most likely have talents that the Centre could use, I wonder if you aren't too much of a wild card to risk?"

"Clayton, I would like to try an experiment, with your permission." With the quiet courage that typified him, Sydney took a half-step forward. "I believe that there's a strong possibility that our young Pretenders will perform better and have greater loyalty if we involve their parents in their training wherever feasible. Melisande would be a perfect test case."

How he knew that Melisande was the mother of one of the children was a puzzle that no one noticed in the tension of the moment. Clayton glared thoughtfully, his eyes moving from Melisande's painfully hopeful expression to Sydney's shuttered, but somehow still pleading, face.

"Just what do you hope to accomplish?" He finally asked suspiciously.

"A child's bond to their parent, especially their mother when they're young, is all encompassing. They are far more likely to cooperate with our requests when they are backed up by the encouragement of the parent. Failing that, the threat to remove contact with the parent will probably accomplish whatever you want." Sydney suggested with subdued eagerness.

Clayton considered for a moment, and then nodded his head thoughtfully.

"I'll let you try." He said at last, much to Parker, Sydney, and Melisande's relief. "But mark this well, young woman." He added warningly. "You will join your sister if you obstruct the project in any way shape or form. Understand?"

Melisande nodded, outwardly thoroughly cowed, but inwardly exultant.

Kiara! I'm coming baby! She thought joyfully.

"Very well, Lyle, remove her with Sydney." Clayton ordered, quite cheerful now that he'd played God in the lives of so many people. "Willie, escort Mr. and Miss Parker to the Renewal Wing. Their reeducation will begin tomorrow."

*****

:Mommy's coming!:

Kiara's excited message rang through Jarod's attempt to concentrate on the test he was giving Mattais. It belatedly dawned on him that all of his attempts to keep the children apart so that none would have an advantage in the tests, that their mental gifts made his precautions moot. Mattais' enormous grin revealed clearly that he'd heard Kiara's mental shout.

:But she's sad. Aunt Meredith is being taken to a bad place. She's worried. I never knew I had an Aunt Meredith before.: Kiara added more soberly.

Jarod started, fear clogging his throat.

"Th-that's enough for now, Mattais." He stammered, opening the door to the small room where Mattais had been attempting to design the floorplan for the Pentagon. "Let's join the others."

Mattais knew that Jarod was frightened, and why, so he said nothing as he skipped along beside Jarod's long strides.

:Jarod's scared.: He told the others privately. :He loves her, like we love our families.:

:It's not quite the same way.: Jarod countered, having "overheard" the exchange. :Probably more like your daddies love your mommies.:

Fortunately, his discipline was strong enough to keep the worst of his fear and regret from the children. For all that they were prodigies, the children were far too young to deal with the negative images and emotions racing through his mind, and Jarod knew it.

:We have to join.:

Surprisingly, it was shy, quiet, Tasida who spoke.

:It's very important. We must be one---now.: She added urgently.

Instinctively, Jarod responded, throwing open a switch in his mind that he'd never suspected existed. It was almost as though he was linking hands with the children, but on a deeper level. When Kiara joined in the joining became smoother, and deeper, their minds meshing into an gestalt, into one, hyper-aware being.

:Meredith?: The gestalt queried gently, with Jarod's love.

:Yes.:

In the hallway she simply slipped to the floor, but mental she slid into the link seamlessly.

:Angelo?:

:I'm here.:

:Jarod?: The mind was a younger, wondering version of his own.

:Yes, it's okay.: It was all of them who reassured the clone, with a mostly wordless wave of acceptance that eased a hole of rejection no one had known the boy felt, except Miss Parker.

:Emily?: Surprise, longing, and more love flared from the Jarod portion of the link.

:Here.: Her smile rippled through the link, bringing joy and peace.

:Melisande?: Meredith Parker was the part that reached out to her sister, instinctively knowing that she too was part of the whole.

:Oh my!: Was the response, startled, yet accepting the touch as if she'd always known it was coming.

:Lyle?: They were all shocked at his inclusion, Lyle more than any of them, but it was Angelo who took precedence to smooth Lyle's brittle and sharp thoughts into a pattern that could meld with the others. He'd never be the same when this was over, in an instant years of negative programming had been erased.

:What?!: His instinctive fear and revulsion were calmed as soon as they flared. :I---I never knew.:

He marveled at the peace, and an acceptance that he'd never even allowed himself to hope for. It was probably the only way he could have ever been truly reconciled to his sisters, for in the meld, anger, hurt, the need for revenge were erased. Jarod, Parker and Melisande could forgive the unforgivable in this higher plane. What would happen after they unmeshed was a problem that they'd worry about later. In the meantime, Sydney was left in a subterranean tunnel, wondering how to respond to the two unconscious bodies on the floor.

:Emily, it's time to bring in the cavalry.: Jarod urged, nudging his sister forward enough to retake control of her body.

"Don't worry, Jo." She murmured, not attempting to rise, or even open her eyes. "Just call Bailey and tell him it's time. He'll know what you mean. And don't worry if I'm unresponsive for a while, everything's okay."

With that she became utterly limp again.

:Clayton. We have to deal with Clayton.:

The consensus was reached easily, with everyone sharing memories, ideas, plans. There was no question on anyone's part that Clayton was the cancer at the heart of the Centre, warping and twisting everything. And the entity that had been created by the meshing of the Centre children had the power to act on that cancer. With the speed of thought, literally, the reached out to the cancer, binding the mind and diving into it without hesitation or remorse.

What they found within it saddened Emily and Jarod the most. The mind was completely wrapped around its obsession with his twin brother. Everything that had ever gone wrong in his life, from the mumps he had in college that made him sterile to the loss of Margaret, he blamed on his brother Charles. Charles, who'd been born a measly thirty minutes before him, had, in Clayton's mind, received all the love, attention, and breaks. This conviction had grown and festered and created a lifetime of poison that no one in the group could think how to lance.

:Can't we help him? Like we did Lyle?: A part thought sadly, already knowing the answer.

:No, if we tried to bring him in he'd crack. See? See how our brains are put together differently than theirs?:

And all of them, even young Midori, didn't only see the altered neural patterns, she understood the way that pattern made it possible for them to be a whole, and yet retain their individuality.

:So what do we do?:

:We can strip his mind bare. We can kill him. We can put in a feedback loop that incapacitates him whenever he tries to hurt someone.:

:We can't kill him. It would hurt us too. And we can't hurt him over and over again. That would make us just like him. But if we remove every memory, maybe he can be retrained.:

It took no more than an instant to reach that conclusion. Not one member of the whole liked it, everyone was well aware of how precious a mind was, but it was the best that they could come up with. And they implemented it in the next instant, regretfully leaving Clayton Black a drooling idiot. Then Jarod instigated the unraveling of their whole.

Gently, he removed Melisande and Lyle first, noting Sydney's overwhelming relief with detached amusement. Then he gave his clone, who called himself Jacob, Emily, and Meredith a feathery nudge. Finally, he, Angelo, and the children released their grip, all of them feeling a twinge of regret as they dwindled into just one person again. The meld had been exhilarating and completed all of them in a way that would be inconceivable to anyone who hadn't lived through it. They should have been exhausted, every one of them, but they were energized instead.

When the FBI teams arrived to storm the gates they found them open. Files and DSAs were being gathered to make the cases against the remaining Centre employees who had knowingly, and willingly, committed atrocities. Said employees were waiting unhappily in the Centre detention block. Harmful and immoral experiments had been halted and measures were already being instituted to mitigate any damage to any people involved in them.

At first Bailey was highly suspicious, but Jarod's freedom, and the sight of Miss Parker working cheerfully by his side pretty much pulled the rug out from under his feet. More astounding was the sight of Lyle working with Sydney and Melisande to reach the parents of the children, who had been moved from the secret laboratory. Tasida had glued herself at his feet, having had her suspicion of her parentage confirmed during the link. It would have been a matter of some concern, if Lyle hadn't been transformed, almost literally, by the melding.

Jo had been reunited with Steve and Midori, and they were still trying to calm her joyful tears. Emily and her band of helpers had each picked a floor and were searching it personally to make sure nothing and no one was overlooked. In short, it was a miracle worthy of a television mini-series. Unfortunately for Bailey, every Centre child had agreed, without even having to think about it, that the secret of the meld would remain a secret.

They knew that it would breed true, for the alterations had been made to them on a genetic level, and they also knew that the world wasn't ready for a few individuals to have such power. It didn't matter that the very nature of that power would prevent them from abusing it, as Lyle's alteration had proven, there was no doubt that the average human would never understand. Someday, perhaps, they'd be able to reveal themselves, but not now. So all Bailey had to go on was that an unexplainable about face had taken place in the Centre, and he was deeply unhappy with the mystery.

"We'll have to find the others." Miss Parker murmured to Jarod as Bailey passed by.

"Yes. We'll have to see if we can't convince their families to at least move near here, so they can receive proper training."

Bailey paused, his curiosity peaked and his instincts telling him he might just find an answer in this conversation.

"First we'll have to figure out how to train ourselves." Jarod chuckled wryly. "I'm still not sure what happened. I suspect Kiara knows the most at this point, and how are we going to get a 4 year old to teach what she seems to know instinctively."

"We'll work it out."

Bailey didn't have the background to realize that the warmth and confidence in Parker's voice were as much of an about face for her as what he'd seen in the Centre halls. Jarod, however, did, and he was deeply grateful for the change. For years he'd watched the cold façade Parker had put around himself and grieved. He hadn't had the experience with people to know how to help her, for all of his vast intelligence.

Without thinking about it, he sent a wordless wave of love and happiness at her. Her answering smile nearly blinded him. He'd dreamed of someday seeing such uninhibited joy on her face and in that moment he felt like his life had reached it pinnacle.

"Oh no," Parker contradicted his thought, not even realizing that it was unspoken. "There's more and better yet to come."

Frustrated, Bailey moved off to the room where Mr. Parker waited to be interrogated. He could sense that exchange had answered his questions, but he just couldn't understand that answer. It was far more important now to simply clean up the mess thirty years of unrestrained Centre damage.

"I don't think Timmit and Mattais have families to find." Jarod said suggestively in the quiet that followed Bailey's departure.

"And what do you think we should do about that?" A smile played around Parker's lips as she asked.

"I thought it would be nice if we could supply them with a mother and father of their own---and I wondered if." His words trailed off tantalizingly.

"You wonder if what?" Parker demanded, a flare of her old irritation surfacing under the stress.

"I wondered if you'd be interested in being Mommy to a ready made family." He finished, a hint of the wary boy worried about rejection lurking in his brown eyes.

"What about my brother?" She asked, startling Jarod.

"You want to adopt him?" He asked, his expression neutral.

"Yes. I know I can talk Daddy into it."

"Then we'd have to get busy making a few girls to round out our little family, wouldn't we?" Jarod smiled broadly. "After all, I hate for you to be outnumbered by males forever."

"Oh, Jarod! I accept!" She wrapped exuberant arms around him and Jarod took advantage of the moment to steal his second kiss from her.

"Accept what?" He asked innocently when they surfaced for air.

"I accepted your proposal of marriage, Jarod. Because I promised Daddy I'd bring you back to the Centre, and I try to keep my promises." She paused, allowing a deadly gleam to light her blue eyes. "But he did say dead or alive."

"Oh, my proposal!" Jarod grinned devilishly. "I'd forgotten about that. Of course Mommy and Daddy have to be married. And it will have to be soon if we're going to do it before your father starts his jail term."

"Yes." Parker agreed, to the proposal, to the speed of the marriage, and to the joy Jarod promised her with his eyes and lips.

:We're going to have a real Mom and Dad, Angelo!: Mattais exulted.

:Just like the others: Timmit agreed.

:That's wonderful, children.: Angelo informed them indulgently, happy that young Mattais would be able to do everything Raines had prevented him from accomplishing and more. :But it isn't polite to eavesdrop on people. Especially your parents to be.:

:Sorry!: They chimed in together, and with a remarkable lack of repentance.

:Scamps!: Angelo sent back lovingly. :Why don't you go to the nursery and visit with the baby. His nurse is about to be taken up for questioning, and her replacement hasn't been allowed into the building by our friends. I'll be down in a moment to join you.:

With the two excited boys responsibly employed, Angelo made his way to Emily, to entice her to follow him and meet her new nephew to be. For once the smile that creased his face wasn't crafty or tinged with revenge. The victory that had been won this day was real and permanent, not an illusion of smoke and mirrors that would fade away, and Angelo knew it. It was almost a shame that dawn wasn't tinting the clouds over the sea in brilliant colors, because it was definitely a new day for them all.

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