Intermission IX

He paced the tiny room restlessly, waiting for something to happen----anything at all. Lyle hadn't done anything to him; nothing! He hadn't even taken away the cane he still relied on to walk. Jarod didn't like that at all. He had a nasty feeling that his plan to take Lyle's attention off of Anne and put it onto him had backfired somehow---but how? And why?

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

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

A shudder rippled through Jarod. Lyle was clever. In his madness it was easy to overlook his cunning, but that would be a fatal trap to fall into, especially now. Lyle was acting according to some plan, Jarod was convinced of that, and he could assume that this plan had the ultimate goal of punishing him for his years of absence and rebellion from the Centre. That Lyle planned to use Anne against him was a given, but why hadn’t he at least brought the two of them together?

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was his childhood friend, and he knew her almost as well as he knew himself, as she did him. She didn’t disappoint him.

"Bad." She answered tersely. "She won’t let Sydney examine her, won’t even acknowledge our presence. If we push it, she curls into a ball like a potato bug."

"How long have I been here?"

"About 3 hours."

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

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

"I honestly don’t know. He’s a part of some government agency that cleans up cesspools like the Centre. I’ve been helping them since sometime after Anne was taken."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know, Parker, I know." He cut her off gently, kindly. "You aren’t responsible for Lyle’s sins."

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

*****

We could hear them, dimly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The part that cared gave up the argument. Moving hurt, and we were all tired of pain. In fact, we were just tired period. If Jarod was truly here all it really meant was that we didn’t have to live for Deirdre any longer. Her father would take good care of her, we all knew that.

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

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

No, silence was the only real choice we had. Maybe after we had rested some and weren’t so tired we could evaluate the situation and make a decision. Right now we just wanted to sleep for a couple of hundred years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

’Don't you want to come out?’ I asked curiously.

’Sometimes.’ He admitted with a hint of regret. ‘But by the time I no longer needed Angelo to protect me from Raines, I couldn't find my way back out anymore.’

Angelo and the other were staring deeply into each other's eyes and I wondered if they were communicating.

‘Yes.’ Tim answered my thought, even though I hadn’t "spoken". ‘He's trying to convince her that Lyle is truly gone but it's not going over well.’

’Why not?’ I demanded, feeling a thrill of alarm thread through me. I suspected that Tim had something unpleasant to tell me and I wasn’t wrong.

’Because we don't really know where he is.’ He confessed reluctantly.

He took a quick step forward as both of us retreated further into the shadows at that news.

’But you're safe!’ He insisted urgently. ‘Parker is out there with her 9mm and your friend Sam is here and armed too. Lyle can’t hurt you anymore.’

’Not until he kills or hurts them too.’ I voiced the other's dismay with slightly better verbal skills. ‘As long as he’s alive he can find a way to hurt us. We aren’t coming out again to let him. Believe me, it’s better this way. Everyone we come in contact with get hurt and I don’t want any more pain on my head.’

And the two of us melted further into the stone of our shelter, until neither Timmy or Angelo could find us.

"Anne is still afraid." I heard Angelo volunteer from that comforting distance. "Won’t come out."

"Is she still there, Angelo?" Sydney asked, his voice heavy with doubt. "She isn't responding to any stimulus at all."

"Anne is still here." Angelo insisted. "She hides from pain."

"What can we do, Sydney?" Jarod's voice pulled me forward a little, before the other pulled me back beside her in the darkness.

His beautiful chocolate voice was dull with pain and I wanted to ease that pain. But the other was insistent, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight her.

"Right now, Jarod, there's only one thing I can do for her." Sydney answered; regret at his powerlessness coloring his voice. "They say sleep is a great healer." He added gently.

I wondered what he meant by that, until I felt the unmistakable prick of a needle. He was sedating us, I realized with a rush of gratitude. I welcomed the warmth that spread from my arm throughout my body. The multitude of aches and pains screaming for my attention faded and I dove into the beckoning darkness eagerly.

"Maybe when she wakes up she'll know us?" I could barely hear Jarod asking Sydney hopefully.

He wasn't a genius with all the answers now, but a little boy, begging his father for reassurance.

"It's possible, Jarod." Sydney told him gently, but with no real conviction. He didn’t want to disillusion Jarod, but experience told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.

‘No.’ The other answered my half formed thought that I might just come out then. ’No more pain. Not ever.’

Before I could formulate a response the darkness rose higher and we sank like a stone below the surface of sleep.

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