"Jarod, put her down in the bed." Sydney
repeated patiently when Jarod made no move to obey. "We still have work to
do. Angelo will guard her----won't you Angelo?"
"Angelo watch." He agreed, his ancient
eyes looking seriously at Jarod. "Annie safe."
Jarod fought with himself for a moment, before
admitting that they were right. He still didn't know where his daughter was, or
Lyle. And he was beginning to wonder where Curt and his men were.
"Okay, Angelo." He gave in reluctantly.
"But watch her closely, okay? Any trouble, any at all, and you get me,
okay?"
"Angelo understands." He told his friend,
laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
For just a moment the two faced each other man to
man, and Jarod's worry eased just a little. When Angelo reached for Anne's
sleeping body Jarod relinquished her without further hesitation. He knew his
leg was still too weak to allow him to carry her even the short distance to the
bed, not now that the initial rush of adrenaline had drained from his body.
Already he could feel the offended limb throbbing from the abuse of far more
use than it was accustomed to.
"What's the situation?" He asked Sam,
tearing his gaze away from Angelo and Anne. "Where are Broots and
Flemming?"
"They've gone to get Deirdre. Flemming said
it's what you would want. He's armed, and he seems to know his way around
hostile territory." Sweeper Sam answered gruffly.
He was very uncomfortable with this situation. He'd
been in on the hunt for Jarod almost from the beginning and he and Jarod had
some less than pleasant memories of each other. On the other hand, he wasn't an
animal and Parker had shown him a few telling DSAs when she'd asked him to
throw in with her.
He'd have done it anyway; he liked Parker and knew
that she would never ask him to do something he couldn't live with
later----unlike her brother Lyle. But some of the things he'd seen!
He sternly told his stomach to behave itself. Even
Parker had turned white when she saw the screen, leading him to believe that it
had been her first view of Lyle's activities too.
He'd actually helped Lyle when they'd had Jarod back
for those few short weeks, but Lyle hadn't tried anything like what he'd done
to that woman. Once again Sam found himself repressing a shudder and he forced
his mind back to the matter at hand, grateful for something more positive to
think about.
"Does he know where she is?" Jarod asked,
dragging his mind away from Anne with difficulty too.
He was completely indifferent to Sam's presence in
the little group of rebels, all he really cared about was making the world safe
for the woman sleeping in the other room.
"Yeah. He got her nurse and another Sweeper to
hide her in the greenhouse. He figured no one would even thinking of them right
now, much less consider them a hiding place for an infant. They should be back
soon. But there’s been no sign of Lyle. Maybe he went home, thinking he's
won." Sam's voice held little hope and, as if to squash even that little
bit, alarms sounded throughout the Centre.
"Curt?" Jarod wondered, startled.
"That's the escape alarm." Sam answered
knowledgeably. "Lyle went looking for you and found your cell empty, is my
guess. I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't on his way here now."
"Damn!" Parker cursed. "Hurry,
Broots! All we need is for Lyle to intercept you along the way."
Jarod found himself in the uncomfortable and
unaccustomed position of being trapped in a situation that was totally beyond
his control. Parker and Sam were preparing and conducting their defense of the
room, Sydney and Angelo were caring for Anne, Broots and Flemming were trying
to retrieve his daughter, and he was superfluous. It made him feel
uncomfortably like he'd felt growing up in the Centre. Like a useful piece of
furniture with no say in his own existence.
"Call your friend." Sydney suggested,
accurately reading Jarod's unhappy expression and deducing the cause. "He
should know what he's walking into."
Jarod shot the older man a grateful look and opened
his cellphone. In moments he determined that not only was Curt currently on his
way, a few hours behind schedule, but he was prepared for a firefight.
"You want her, Brother dearest!" He heard
Parker shouting as he closed the phone. "Come in and get her!"
He missed Lyle's answer, but Parker's derisive laugh
let him know it wasn't pleasant.
"Not so brave against someone who can defend
herself, are you? You sniveling little coward!" She spat back venomously.
"Come on in here, I'll take you on by myself!"
"Didn't think you were man enough for that
one." She responded to his unintelligible reply. "You were stupid to
play your games in front of the cameras---I've already sent the DSAs to the
authorities. Let's see the Triumvirate get you out of this. I hope you get the
death penalty!"
Lyle shrieked something in return, and the
occasional shots halted. Parker turned the defense of the door over to Sam and
turned to face the other two men, her blue eyes glittering with barely
repressed fury.
"Damn but I wish I could get my hands on
him." She hissed to herself. Then she seemed to finally see Sydney and
Jarod.
"Have your gas masks ready. If we thought of it
chances are good one of them will too." She ordered them briefly before
returning to her post by the door, muttering dire imprecations to herself.
The end was surprisingly anticlimactic. Curt's men
mowed through the few Sweepers foolish enough to resist their superior force
without even slowing.
The small group in Anne's cell were alerted to the
change in Centre authority when Broots walked calmly down the hall, holding an
unhappy, but silent, Deirdre and followed by Sam Flemming.
"It's okay!" Broots called cheerfully.
"Jarod's friend is here. They're just mopping up a few pockets of
resistance. Don't shoot!"
Behind the other two men Parker saw a well built
black man in bulletproof armor leading three other, similarly clad men. The
three began escorting the Sweepers that Parker and Sam had handcuffed down the
hall. They seemed perfectly willing to go with the men----apparently jail was
preferable to trying to melt into the floor during a firefight.
"Jarod!" The black man called. "Are
you okay?"
Jarod gave Parker a nod, confirming that this was,
indeed, the cavalry, and the four of them poured out into the hallway, Jarod
bringing up the rear but limping as quickly as his damaged leg would let him.
He collected his daughter from Broots with tears in his eyes, leaning against
the wall for support and dropping his cane.
"So this is the last one, is she?" Curt
asked, beaming at Deirdre and Jarod.
Jarod and Deirdre were too busy staring at each
other to hear the other man. Deirdre's eyes were the clear, sparkling blue of
her mother. They were solemn as she examined her father far more carefully than
one would expect for an infant her age. Jarod blinked back his tears, brushing
back her soft red curls with one finger.
"Hey, pretty girl." He whispered softly to
his daughter. "I'm your daddy."
Deirdre appeared to consider this before finally
smiling. It was a totally happy, unrestrained smile that involved her entire
body in a way that only babies can manage. Then her tiny fists flailed out and
she punched her father in the nose, much to the amusement of the people
watching the father and daughter meeting.
"Wow, she sure took to you!" Broots
marveled. "It was all I could do to get her to stop crying."
"Give her to me!" Parker ordered, holding
out Jarod's cane. "I'll escort you back inside the room, and you two can
wait there for the paramedics."
Deirdre's smile vanished when Parker plucked her
from her father's arms and her lower lip trembled warningly.
"None of that!" Parker ordered the infant
firmly. "I'm just carrying you for your daddy---you can have him back as
soon as he's sitting."
Amazingly, the threatening tears vanished as the
infant considered the other woman thoughtfully.
"Your daddy is an idiot, you know." Parker
confided conspiratorially, smiling at Deirdre as they returned to the room that
she knew better than any of them. "So you're going to have to keep an eye
on him until your Mama is feeling better. But you're a bright girl, you can
handle it."
Sydney marveled as he watched the two, Parker
chatting matter of factly with a baby that could hardly be expected to
understand. But the baby certainly seemed to be paying attention, her little
face grave. Finally, when Jarod was seated again in the rocker, his arms held
out demandingly for his daughter, Parker smiled and winked at the little red
head. Once again, to the amazement of those watching, Deirdre smiled and
gurgled, and cheerfully went into her father's lap.
"What are you looking at?" Parker demanded
with mock irritation. "She's a girl, of course she understands! Now let's
go find my brother." She added in all grim seriousness.
The room emptied quickly. Curt and Sydney were the
last to leave, their heads together in an earnest conference that involved more
than a few worried looks towards the door to the other room and the quiet man
and the baby. Sam Flemming listened in, his face darkening with each word until
the two prepared to leave. Then he announced his intention to check up on the
woman who was all but a daughter to him.
Jarod was entranced by his daughter and didn't seem
to notice a thing. In the silence that fell when the last two left Jarod could
be heard promising his daughter the best of everything and praising her for
every quality he could think of. It quickly became apparent that Deirdre was
perfect in his eyes, from her unruly red curls, so like her mother's, to her
tiny pink toes, which Jarod dutifully counted and began playing "this
little piggy" with. Deirdre was chuckling happily, a new experience for
her, when Lyle appeared in the doorway.
He was a mess. His hair stuck out wildly in every
direction, his face and expensive white shirt were streaked with dust and dirt
and his tie and jacket were missing entirely. He had a beautiful shiner forming
on one eye, but his expression showed no evidence of defeat. Instead, the madness
on his face seemed even more pronounced, and the gun in his hand made him even
more dangerous.
"You think you've won!" He hissed at
Jarod, advancing on him with the gun trained unerringly right between Jarod's
eyes. "But you haven't. She's mine now---I made her mine. Even if she
isn't with me, she'll always be mine."
Hatred and insanity gleamed in his brown eyes while
malice wiped every trace of attractiveness from his face.
"Give it up, Lyle." Jarod said with a calm
he didn't feel, putting Deirdre on the floor where he hoped she'd be out of
harm's way. "The Centre is crawling with agents. You haven't got a
chance."
"Where's my Eve?" Lyle ignored Jarod's
words, utterly focused on his own goal. "She's coming with me, with the
brat. We'll start over."
"Anne," Jarod stressed the name, his eyes
glittering with rage, but still not making a threatening move. "Is in the
other room under heavy sedation. She isn't going anywhere."
"Fine." Lyle abandoned her without a
second thought. "Then I'll take the brat." He gestured towards
Deirdre with his free hand.
"Over my dead body." Jarod allowed the
fury he felt to show openly on his face and gathered himself to make a suicidal
leap on Lyle.
"That was always the plan!" Lyle gloated
triumphantly. His finger began to tighten on the trigger.
"But was I?"
Sam's quiet question startled Lyle's focus, and his
gun wavered for just an instant.
It was all the opening Sam needed. He fired three
shots before Lyle could take a breath, each and every one fatal all by itself. Lyle
never had a chance.
A look of shock covered his features as he began to
collapse. Like most madmen he had somehow believed he was invincible. His own
death was inconceivable to him and his expression of confusion went with him to
the grave.
Jarod looked down at the dead man at his feet
without expression. He wiped a few spatters of Lyle's blood off of his face and
picked up his daughter, cuddling her to him as if she was his comfort and not
the other way around. Angelo appeared in the door and saw Lyle's body. A smile
of satisfaction crossed his face and when two of Curt's men came in to remove
the body he stopped them with a word.
"No!" He barked, frowning firmly.
"Anne needs to see."
Curt's men looked confused and Sam spoke up,
throwing Angelo a grateful smile.
"My friend Angelo is quite correct." He
told the men. "This man tortured a woman in the room behind me. Seeing him
dead will do a great deal to help her begin to recover."
"We were just going to take him to the main
conference room." One of the men explained, still puzzled. "We've
turned it into a temporary morgue."
"No." Sam reiterated patiently.
"Leave him there. I'll see to it that he gets there after we're done with
him. Don't worry, I don't think he has any family that will care one way or
another."
"Damn straight I won't." Parker growled,
stalking into the room to stare at her brother's still form with an odd mixture
of disgust and regret and relief. "Leave him here. If seeing him like this
helps Anne then it's the very least he could do to make up for the damage he's
caused."
We awoke hours later, and lay perfectly still,
listening carefully. We were in our own bed---the one that had only been used
for one thing, because she wouldn't let us sleep in it, which meant that either
Lyle was back, or someone who didn’t know us was in control. We lay perfectly
still, listening carefully.
Someone was with us, but not on the bed, on the
floor. He was asleep and we quickly identified him as Angelo. Then we sat up
slowly, finally realizing how badly we hurt. Once again, breathing was an
agony---probably cracked ribs. Our back hurt worse than usual, and our head
throbbed with every breath.
Oh, yes, we remembered now, Lyle had hit us with the
whip again. He used it to lure Jarod back to the Centre. We considered simply
laying down again and pretending we were unconscious, but the Anne part of us
wanted to know what was going on.
Slowly the happenings of the day came back to us. It
was an effort because we usually tried to forget, not to remember, but Anne
insisted on understanding. We remembered Miss Parker and Sydney trying to
examine us after Lyle had filmed us. We remembered Lyle’s return later in the
day, but our mind shied away from what had occurred then. That was okay,
though, we were used to memories that had to be avoided like land mines
littering our mental landscape.
We thought we remembered Jarod’s voice and touch,
but it was too vague of a memory for us to be sure. We also thought we
remembered a conversation with not one, but two Angelos. It could mean that we
were crazy, the Anne part of us thought, but that didn’t really matter to us.
Sanity was a luxury that we really weren’t concerned about.
We realized that we would have to see if there was
anyone in the outer room. The fact that Angelo slept next to our bed meant that
something had happened, but none of us were sure just what that was. Cautiously
we wrapped a blanket around us and made our way into the next room. We had
barely cleared the door before we stopped dead in shock. He was there!
We recognized his hated form in an instant. He lay utterly still over a dark
stain.
Blood, he was laying in blood.
We approached him cautiously, suspecting a nasty
trick of some kind, but he never moved, not even when we prodded him gingerly.
His body was stiff and cold, but we examined him carefully anyway. Anne knew
that he was dead, but the other couldn't seem to grasp the concept. The third
entity in our mind, that sarcastic little voice that sometimes helped and
sometimes made things worse was silent.
The other, the silent survivor, was puzzled,
prodding Lyle’s body again, expecting him to rise and start issuing orders. Her
world began and ended with Lyle. If he didn't exist, then what of her? She was
at a loss.
She pulled us back into the nearest corner, settling
us on our haunches to rock and think. She never took our eyes off of the body,
not trusting his stillness.
`He's dead.' Anne told her, still not entirely convinced herself,
though. Too much had happened to us to really trust what we were seeing now.
`We're free.'
‘No.’ She thought back instantly.
Free wasn't a notion she could understand.
’No, this is a trick. He wants us to do something
wrong, so he can punish us again. We’ll stay here and wait for him to get up.’ She decided.
We were still arguing when Jarod burst into the
room. We almost had a heart attack!
"Anne!" He limped towards us, coming to a
stop a few feet in front of us, when we cringed back, covering our head with
our arms.
Anne felt terrible when the hope on his face faded
and even worse when he reached out to touch us and then pulled his hand back
uncertainly. She still loved him deeply, but in a way that made things worse.
She had been defiled in ways that he couldn’t understand and she hated for him to
see her like this. We pulled her hair in front of our face again, hiding.
He drew a deep breath, and sat on the floor near
us---his injured leg still wasn't up to things like crouching. The other drew
us further back in the corner, watching him warily. She waited for him to get
angry, or to give us an order, or in some way take up where Lyle had left off.
Instead, he looked at us with such hope and love on
his face that Anne wanted to wail her misery. Didn't he know that his Annie
didn't exist? That she'd never existed, except in his imagination? And now,
after everything, how could he still think he wanted the woman before him?
Couldn’t he see that we were too badly damaged now to love?
"Anne." He repeated gently, restraining
himself from taking me into his arms with an obvious effort. "It's me,
honey, Jarod. You're safe now."
The appeal in those chocolate brown eyes pulled at
Anne’s heart and the pain in his velvet voice was enough make her want to come
out and comfort him. Only the fact that we all knew he was better off without
us kept us still. It was an effort, but we kept our expression blank, allowing
no recognition, and especially no sign of the love in our heart, to show.
Angelo wandered into the room, sleeping bag wrapped
around his shoulder and creases still showing on his face from the pillow.
"Anne afraid." He volunteered over a yawn.
"Of what?" Jarod asked, and the
frustration in his voice had us flinching again.
The other part of us had expected that tone. She
knew what was coming next. We edged cautiously a little further away, ignoring
the remorse on Jarod’s face when he notice.
Angelo looked at Jarod seriously, and I could feel
the Timmy part of him trying to help the Angelo part express what they knew.
"Pain." He said simply.
"Lyle is dead, Anne." Jarod assured us.
"He won’t ever hurt anyone again."
’He doesn’t have to hurt us again.’ Anne thought sadly. ’We’ve
already been hurt beyond repair.’
’Talk to him, Anne!’ Timmy urged mentally.
’I can't!’ She whispered back, wanting desperately to cry. ‘How
could I? What could I possibly say? His Anne no longer exists---if she ever
did.’
Angelo sighed with Timmy's frustration and crouched
down on the other side of me, ignoring Lyle's body and patting my knee
comfortingly.
’I know you’ve been terribly hurt.’ Tim sympathized finally. ‘But
you can’t close yourself off like this. He only wants to help you.’
"Angelo?" Jarod prompted, his face a mixture of worry and longing.
"Too much pain." Angelo explained sadly.
"No trust."
"Jarod, you need to back off. You're rushing
her." Sydney and a woman I'd never seen before stood just inside of the
door, and it was the woman who'd spoken.
She was tall, almost as tall as Miss Parker, with
dark brown hair and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. I found myself wondering
if she wore colored contacts.
"I don't understand." Jarod struggled to
his feet and limped towards Sydney, seeking reassurance. "Lyle is dead,
and she knows I'd never hurt her. What's holding her back?"
"Jarod, perhaps we should discuss this
someplace else?" The woman suggested firmly.
"Why?" Jarod threw a look at us over his
shoulder, but we didn't acknowledge it. We wanted him to leave.
Once again our fingers twined and untwined and our
lips formed the words to the rhyme the other liked so much.
To the others we must have looked totally mindless.
Only Angelo, and the strange woman, had a clue of our actual condition.
"Because she understands every word we say,
Jarod, no matter how mindless she looks. You could destroy any hope with a
single misspoken word." The woman answered again. "You need to leave
now----give her some space. I would be very surprised at this point if she
allowed any man to be near her for some time to come."
"But----"
"Come, Jarod." Sydney intervened,
physically taking his arm and leading him out of the room.
I heard him explaining as they left the room,
"Think, Jarod. If you weren't in love with her, but were her psychiatrist
instead, what would you think was happening here?"
The rest of what was said was lost as the door
closed behind the two men, and the woman advanced further into the room. When
she was just over an arms length away from me she crouched down, waiting until
we eyed her though the veil of our tangled hair.
"I'm Doctor Susan Miles." She told me,
capturing my gaze with her own.
She didn't have contacts, I noted, focusing on the
extraneous because she made me terribly nervous, her eyes really were that
brilliant shade of green.
"Jarod asked me to come here and help
you." She continued, her voice very gentle and her entire posture
completely neutral. "You're babies are all safe. Your friends Sally and
Sam are helping Jarod take care of them in another part of the building."
I stopped rocking, she had my complete attention.
Finally! I could lay that burden down; the worry about my children. They were
safe.
"Would you like to see them?" She asked,
noting my interest.
`Yes!' I shouted from the confines of our mind. The other
was silent, trying to spot the trick, the danger.
"No trick." Angelo told us gravely. He
hadn't moved when the others had left. "Babies safe."
Susan looked from the one of us to the other
curiously, but kept silent, allowing Angelo space to help. I wondered why she
hadn't sent him away with Jarod, after all, Angelo is a man too.
’She’s simply following your lead. You haven’t
flinched away from me so she knows that you don’t consider me a threat.’ He answered with
unassailable logic. The other finished her inspection of Susan's face, and
decided that we might be able to trust her. She finally responded to my desire
with a cautious nod. Susan was wise enough not to smile or show relief, which
would have frightened the other into thinking she'd fallen into a trap and just
nodded back, rising to speak to someone outside the door.
"Anne." She said when she was once again
crouched near me.
I wondered how she did it. I'd had months to
strengthen those muscles but she didn't seem to feel any strain from the
unusual position. "Will you come with us to another room? We don't want to
bring the babies down here. It needs to be cleaned."
`Aha!' The other thought triumphantly. `That's the
trick! They want us to leave our room.'
`So?' I argued reasonably. `It's not like we have
happy memories of the place----or like we ever felt safe here. If we don't like
where she takes us we'll come back.'
She didn't have a good response for that, but she
wasn't happy. The rooms were familiar, and in her mind strange was bad. New
situations were to be avoided at all costs.
"Angelo go too." He offered suddenly,
standing up and offering his hand to us.
He waited while the other studied the situation
suspiciously. Finally, with one last look at Lyle's body, she took his hand and
allowed him to lead us from our room. She wasn't happy with the men in the
halls, most of them wearing dark blue slacks and jackets, some still wearing
body armor and most with weapons. She stayed close to Angelo, trying to watch
all of them at once.
The elevator didn't bother her. It was just the
three of us (not counting the extra people Angelo and I carried in our heads)
and it was nicely enclosed, but the apartments that Susan led us to were high
in the Tower, with large windows revealing a spectacular sunset. My other was
extremely nervous, disliking the open spaces intensely. Angelo knew my distress
almost before I did.
"Too big." He announced firmly.
Susan shot me a puzzled look, trying to decipher
Angelo's statement. She must have seen the fear in my eyes as I looked at the
rooms, because she led us to a bedroom off to one side. The windows there
smaller and covered with thick blinds and, of course, the room itself was
smaller. The other was finally willing to let go of Angelo's hand and began to
cautiously explore the room, her attention always on the lookout for good
hiding places.
She kept a wary eye on the door, noting when Susan
left, but willing to be patient because Angelo remained. For some reason,
Angelo was the only person she really trusted, and even I didn't understand
why. When Susan returned, however, she wasn't alone. As promised, she brought
my children and Sally and Sam had come with her.
I saw tears glitter in Sally's eyes when we whirled
to face them as the door opened. The other kept us near the covered windows,
and far from the door, even as I urged at her to let us go to the children.
Deirdre, and Brennan and Brone were beaming at me
from their perches in the newcomer's arms. The remainder of the fear that I’d
had for them eased as I observed their obvious health and happiness.
"Hello, Anne." Sally said, her voice
uncertain as I kept distance between us. "Do you remember me?"
The other watched them warily, allowing no sign of
recognition to cross our features. Sally's distress grew as she moved farther
into the room and I moved cautiously back. Finally she set Brennan down in the
middle of the floor, (where he immediately pushed up onto his chubby little
arms), and hurried out of the room. I felt guilty about her pain, but the other
was firmly in control, keeping us quiet and cautious.
Sam kept his concern better hidden as he laid Brone
down next to his brother. Before he turned to go after his wife he fixed me
with an understanding stare.
"Annie." He said, his voice husky with the
same pain that darkened his usually cheerful eyes. "We're here for you,
honey. We love you, girl, just like you were our own. So don't go thinking
you're alone in this, because you aren't."
He didn't wait for a response, although I felt tears
pricking at the backs of my eyes, he just followed his wife out into the other
room. I heard the faint sound of Sally weeping and Sam comforting her. Susan
wasn't willing to let me off so lightly, though. She didn't lay Deirdre on the
floor next to her brothers, but brought her directly to me. I knew she was
forcing us to allow another person close enough to us to touch, and neither of
us appreciated that, but I could understand even though the other didn't.
She glared impotently at the woman, who ignored the
silent warning and held out Deirdre. When Deirdre reached for me the other's
control was broken and I reached out for her eagerly. Susan didn't push her
victory, but retreated, Angelo going with her, and they left me alone with my
babies.
Tears began to slip down my cheeks as I joined my sons on the floor and breathed in the clean baby smell of my children. Fortunately, they didn't seem to mind getting a little wet.