Reality Check
by RebeckahPlatonic Ending, Final Part
I was surprised---how would Grandma know the Centre wanted me? I wasn’t even sure of that----for all I knew Raines hadn’t bothered to tell anyone about me.
“Oh no, child, they want you.” Grandma correctly interpreted my expression. “Jarod had been warned by his friend about you, and that means that he thought you needed warning yourself. I’d say you’re about as hot an item for the Centre right now as Jarod himself. Don’t worry, though, just go to your room, grab your stuff, and meet me in the basement. The door is the unmarked one in between the bathrooms.” Grandma pushed me gently out the door before my mind kicked into high gear and I hurried off, knowing she was right.
The Centre had undoubtedly bugged her phone as a general precaution right after her encounter with Jarod. If they had, then they would suspect, sooner or later, that I was ‘Mum, and they’d come looking. If I was still here when they got here, everyone would be in danger. If I was gone, no one but Grandma would know anything about me but that I’d been abused, like so many of the other women there, and I never spoke. Since Grandma would be with me, the Centre wouldn’t have a clue as to where I’d gone. Besides, in a battered women’s shelter the Centre was going to find it hard to get anyone to talk about one of the clients--- privacy is the password in those places.
I actually didn’t have anything but a small purse, holding only a wallet and several small notepads and pens, and my backpack with the money in it. I was wearing my hippie clothes, the only clothing I owned at the moment and I hadn’t had a chance to acquire any other possessions.
I raced down the hall towards the bathrooms, suspecting that this time luck was against me and the Centre would be closing in. I eased the door shut quietly behind me even as I heard strident voices coming from the direction of the office.
“Come on, girl!” Grandma waved me into the dim room and pointed me towards a staircase hidden behind a false set of shelves holding linens. I didn’t feel even moderately safe until the shelves clicked into place behind her and we both hurried down the rickety wooden stairs.
Grandma didn’t give me a chance to look at the basement, full of shadows and cobwebs, but rushed me through it to an inconspicuous wooden door at the back. It led to another room, filled with unmarked boxes and ancient trunks. Grandma pulled open a second hidden door and we hustled through a dark, narrow corridor that had to extend all of the way to the other side of the block.
We emerged in another basement and surfaced through an old-fashioned cellar door leading directly to the house’s driveway. A van idled there, it’s side door opened for us and a driver already behind the wheel.
“Airstrip, John, she’s a hot one.” Grandma said tersely, making me smile at the melodrama in spite of my anxiety. John was pulling smoothly out of the driveway even as Grandma urged me into a cooler that was actually larger than it looked, having a false bottom. She really did run an underground railroad!
She’d no sooner fitted a cover of soda on ice over me than I felt the van pull to a halt
“Is there a problem, Officer?” I heard John ask smoothly.
“We’re looking for a runaway, John.” Apparently the Officer knew John personally. “It seems she’s not quite stable, you know, emotionally. Gets violent without her medication.”
“Family must be well off to get you all involved in the search.” John responded affably.
“Yeah, well, I got to look inside, you understand, don’t you?”
“Sure---what’s this vicious escapee look like, anyway?” He wanted to know.
“Evidently she’s a skinny thing, about 5’6”, but only weighs about 110 lbs. or so. Short curly hair, a kind of reddish brown, (I touched my copper red curls gratefully) and big blue eyes. Here’s a picture of her.”
After a short silence John laughed merrily.
“You’ve got to be kidding, Rob!” He exclaimed. “That little thing probably couldn’t even hurt a fly! She’s barely old enough to be out of school. You’ve got a manhunt going for *her*?”
“I gotta admit, John, she doesn’t look that dangerous to me.” Officer Rob confided quietly, “But when orders come down, what are you going to do? Anyway, I don’t see any stowaways here, you have a good evening, folks.”
The sliding door of the van slammed shut over the good-byes of John and Grandma. I wasn’t released from the tiny hidey-hole at that time, though. We drove for at least an hour, and encountered two more checkpoints, this time with officers who seemed a lot more serious about finding the runaway. Neither of them checked out the bogus cooler, though, and their dedication was explained when I overheard a remark about a $10,000 reward.
<So that’s what I’m worth on the open market.> I thought fuzzily. It was hard to breathe with my knees crammed under my chin. When we finally reached our destination my legs had lost all feeling and John, who turned out to be a large man about 40 years old, had to lift me out of my cramped hole. My backpack was pulled out from under the seat, where Grandma had stuffed it, and the three of us started across an unlit tarmac. John had to carry me to the waiting helicopter, leaving Grandma to carry my few personal possessions.
“Okay, sweetie, this is where we part company. These nice folks are going to take over from here. You drop me a line sometime, you hear?” She whispered in my ear as petite, curvy blond woman and a taller, muscular man with dark hair exited the helicopter with a stretcher.
“We know you don’t need to be on the stretcher.” The woman reassured me at my panicked look when they strapped me on. She smiled soothingly. “This is a medi-vac chopper; you get to be the patient.”
My backpack and purse were tossed carelessly in the chopper and the two strangers lifted me effortlessly in behind them. I felt a moment of panic as the helicopter lifted smoothly off. I’d only known Grandma for two days, but she was familiar and these two weren’t.
“Lisa, get her arms out from under the straps.” The man suggested quietly.
<Another Lisa?> My alter ego piped up. Now *that’s* a coincidence!
I ignored it, I was too tired to argue, even if it was only with myself.
“Hi, Rose.” The blond said warmly. “I’m Lisa and this is Dave. We’re taking you to Sacred Heart for a check up---Grandma insisted---and then we’ll help you figure out just what kind of an identity you want.”
I shook my head vigorously as soon as she mentioned the hospital. I didn’t want to see a doctor, I didn’t care what Grandma wanted!
“Don’t worry, he won’t take a history or anything. Grandma just wants to make sure there isn’t any damage that might cause you problems later on. He really did a job on you, didn’t he?” Lisa tsked reprovingly as she assessed the livid bruises on my skin.
I pointed at my purse, frustrated that I couldn’t communicate without a pad and pen. Lisa handed it to me and I rolled and squirmed within the straps over to my stomach.
“I already saw a doctor, right after. I’m fine. Even my sprained wrist has almost stopped hurting.” I wrote quickly, knowing I was glaring.
“Maybe so, but Grandma insisted. We won’t go against her wishes. Besides, the doctor might know how to reverse the damage to your vocal chords. He’s quite gifted and incredibly discrete.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Pope! I don’t want to risk it. I’m sure---“ I paused briefly, knowing better than to use Raines’ name.
“I’m sure the people after me will be looking into every operation involving vocal chords for quite a while!” I finished.
“They’ll never hear about this. I already told you there wouldn’t be any records.”
“Really?” I wrote, wishing there was some way to get sarcasm onto paper. “And I suppose there will be no anesthesiologist for this miracle operation? No nurse or orderly or technician monitoring my heartbeat?”
“All of those people are trustworthy, too.” Lisa assured me quietly. “But no one will do anything unless you want us to. “Harv and I are only going to deliver you to the doctor, if you don’t want to seem him after that then all you have to do is tell him, okay?”
I nodded reluctantly. I guessed that was the best I could hope for. Belatedly remembering my manners I signed a quick thank you. At least I knew that much sign language!
We passed the rest of the flight in silence, Lisa and Harv doing paperwork and me brooding anxiously. It had to be close to midnight by the time we finally landed on the roof of a building.
I was rearranged on the stretcher to look like a patient, Lisa even had a bag of saline solution taped to my arm to make it look more realistic. They rushed me into the elevator, spouting medical jargon that meant absolutely nothing to me, while I laid there with my eyes closed and pretended I way dying, or something.
“Here’s your patient, Dr. Welby.” It was only the second time I’d heard the man, Harv, speak. He had a nice, soothing voice, but I was glad that he’d had the sensitivity to leave me to Lisa. I wasn’t too comfortable with men at that point.
<*Welby?*> I thought, suspicion as to the identity of this doctor rising swiftly. No, he wouldn’t---
“So, you’re ‘Mum.”
Apparently he would. I answered myself, recognizing Jarod’s deep voice in that instant. Lisa and Harv had thoughtfully undone the straps while we were in the elevator, so I sat up and swung my legs off the side of the stretcher as soon as the door to the treatment room closed behind Lisa and Harv.
“What are *you* doing here?” I printed quickly.
“I wanted to meet you.” He answered easily. “Curiosity has always been my fatal flaw---Pez?” He held out a brightly colored plastic dispenser with a Garfield head. I shook my head silently---I’m not a big Pez fan.
“They’re very good.” He assured me with his trademark little boy sincerity. I smiled, in spite of my anxiety and shook my head again.
“I’m more of a Snickers kind of girl.” I printed quickly. “So what do you want? Is the Centre close behind you?”
“No, they can’t find me when I come up here---it’s pretty isolated and the locals keep my presence here a close secret. I visit here a couple of times a year when I need to relax---I just do some doctoring to keep my hand in.” He reassured me. “And what I want is to know who you are and why the Centre wants you so badly. I can’t even be sure you aren’t a trap set by the Centre.”
My smile turned slightly grim. It was late and it had been a pretty stressful day. I wondered if Jarod had planned for me to be exhausted during this interview.
“My name is Rose. And how could I be a trap when *you’re* the one who instigated this meeting, not me?” I wrote slowly, weighing each word in my mind. “I’d really rather not get into why Raines wants me, but no, I’m not a pretender like you.” I guessed, correctly it seemed from the look on Jarod’s face, that he was assuming I was the missing Red File.
“I suppose I could be a really convoluted trap, but I doubt it---I’m pretty sure my escape from the Centre was genuine.” Suddenly I wondered if I had some sort of implanted radio-tracking device on me somewhere. “I promise you, though, I don’t want to go back or help them in any way!” I finished quickly.
“I really need to know more than that.” Jarod told me, gently but implacably. “Raines wants you back pretty badly---why?”
“You aren’t going to believe me.” I warned in a quick scribble. “Can’t you just find some prehistoric corner of the world and let me hide there? I can rough it, I don’t care---and you can go back to your own life, right wrongs and maybe find your family. OK?”
Jarod looked startled, and suspicion began growing on his face.
“How do you know that about me? Raines would never tell one of his victims any details about any of his projects. Just who are you?”
<Damn his persistence.> I though irritably.
“OK, fine.” I wrote grimly. “Here’s the whole, sordid story. Make of it what you will.”
It took an entire sheet of the legal pad paper Jarod supplied for me to get the whole story down, even with me leaving out every personal detail about myself I could get away with. His response to Raines breeding program was just as queasy as mine had been and his attitude softened marginally after he’d read the page.
“That’s a pretty fantastic story.” He said briefly, laying the page down and focusing on me. I simply raised one eyebrow---I’d warned him!
“So all you want is a chance to build a new life?” He asked skeptically. Tears pressed against my eyes as I realized, *really* realized for the first time, that I wasn’t ever going to see my family and friends ever again.
“I don’t think even you could come up with a way to get me home.” I focused on my writing and on blinking back those tears.
“No, from the sounds of things that was more of a one-in-several million shot. I wish Raines luck on repeating that fluke.” Jarod answered thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll help you, but first you’re getting that physical. I want to make sure there aren’t any hidden tracking devices on you that you might not know about, plus I want a look at the damage to your vocal chords. There are a few procedures that might help, depending on the type of injury.”
“It wasn’t an injury.” I reminded him, bitterness radiating from my face. “And I’m not sure I want you to be giving me a physical.”
“I’m a *good* doctor!” He protested, injured pride showing.
“I prefer female doctors.” I responded adamantly.
“That would increase your exposure.” He responded, the epitome of reason.
<*Damn*! I really hate it when people get reasonable with me!> I thought grumpily.
“OK, Fine, Whatever! Just get it over with!” I printed, not bothering to hide my displeasure.
I couldn’t fault Jarod for his professional attitude, although I couldn’t remember ever having been to thoroughly poked, prodded, x- rayed and investigated before. I figured that Jarod now knew more about me than I did myself, especially since I wasn’t even the me I’d grown up with anymore.
When he’d finally finished taking the last sample he handed me a pill and small paper cup of water.
“Take this, I’m admitting you for the rest of the night while the tests get evaluated.” He ordered briefly.
“Fine,” I wrote back. “I’ll stay, but I’m not taking anything.”
“It’s just a mild sedative. Grandma says you have nightmares.”
“*You* have nightmares.” I wrote acidly. “Do you take sedatives?” I already knew he didn’t, but he seemed surprised, before he remembered that I had an edge on information about him.
“All right.” He conceded grudgingly. “Just sit in the wheelchair--- hospital policy.” He added with a wry grin. I complied, promising myself that if Jarod didn’t come through with an identity for me by the next night that I would strike out on my own. I could always fake amnesia in a small town if I had to.
<At least then those bruises Lyle gave you would be good for something! > That tiny voice in my mind piped up cheerfully. I told her to go to sleep and stop bothering me.
My sleep was short and interrupted by the nightmares I’d become accustomed to. At least they’d changed from me being paralyzed in one spot while Lyle came after me to me running endlessly while Lyle came after me. I figured it was something of an improvement---I wasn’t feeling quite so helpless.
It was just getting light outside my window when I got up, showering and dressing in the clothes I’d worn for the past three days. I was glad they were the fairly comfortable jeans and a t-shirt and not Miss Parker’s beige trouser suit, but I knew I’d better get more soon. Even though I’d had the chance to wash them during my brief stay in the shelter they were going to start to smell soon!
Jarod was waiting in my room when I emerged from the tiny bathroom, still toweling my hair dry. He handed me a cup of coffee and indicated a small pitcher of creamer next to a small pot of sugar on the side table.
“I thought you might like some---I’m sure Raines didn’t let you have any during your stay.” He said with a warm smile.
<Oh god, Jarod, I love you and I want to have your baby!> I thought fervently, inhaling the rich scent of my favorite morning beverage with the pleasure only a coffee addict could understand. My stay at the shelter had been far too short and eventful for me to remember that there even was such a thing as coffee. I added cream, ignored the sugar, and took a long, ecstatic sip.
I opened my eyes to see Jarod watching me with an amused smile. I scribbled on the ever-present note pad, “I’d like to see your face when you eat ice cream!”
“It’s very good.” He assured me, his grin deepening.
“So I’ve heard.” I cocked a wry eyebrow. “So, why’d you come, and why so early. Is it bad news?” I added, getting back to business.
“I peeked in on you at the end of my morning rounds.” He confessed. “You were already up.”
“You never went to sleep, did you?” I wrote.
“I wanted to get the test results right away.”
“So you ran them yourself.” I guessed, knowing I was right by the hint of color in his cheeks. I do so love it when a man can blush!
“Well,” I added when he didn’t say anything. “What’s the verdict—-- will I live?”
“Oh yes! You’re in wonderful health. You even have perfect teeth!” He told me honestly. “There weren’t any devices hidden on you that I could find, so you’re clear there too.”
“Jarod, something is bugging you---spit it out!” I wrote with a firm glare in his direction.
“There isn’t anything that we can do about your voice.” He confessed sadly. “I can get you a machine that will talk for you---“ He stopped speaking as I began to write again.
“No, thank you! I’ve heard those voices---they’re awful. I’ll just learn sign language---it shouldn’t take me more than a month or two.”
“So you learn quickly, do you?” Jarod asked, an avid gleam in his eyes raising my suspicions. He hadn’t told me everything by a long shot!
“Yes, I’m a pretty quick study.” I admitted reluctantly, “Why?”
“Do you know anything about the anomaly in my blood?”
“No, just that you have one and that it might be linked to your genius.” I responded, feeling the beginnings of writer’s cramp in my hand. I’d have to switch to my left hand soon!
“Well, I found the same anomaly in your blood.”
“No, Jarod, I am NOT a pretender. I’m intelligent, yes, and I have a really good memory, yes, but I’m NOT a genius!”
“I didn’t say you were!” He protested.
“No, but you were thinking it!” I accused.
“You don’t really know what you are anymore. Not since you came over to this reality.” He countered reasonably. “It’s possible you’re a pretender now.”
<One of these days you're going to try reasonable on me one time too many, buddy!> I thought grimly.
“I don’t think it’s possible, Jarod.” I suspected that he was hoping he’d found a companion in his crazy world, and I hated to burst his bubble, but he needed to face reality.
“Part of what you do has to do with how you were trained to think---I don’t have that training and I’m pretty set in my ways.” My hand was aching now so I switched to my left hand to write. “I won’t ever be like you are.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will.” Jarod admitted with a hint of sorrow.
“Jarod, a person doesn’t have to be LIKE you to understand you.” I printed, driven to comfort him. “You have lots of friends and more people love you than you realize. Don’t waste your time trying to find the impossible, enjoy the good you do have.”
“None of those people can really understand.” Jarod murmured. “They have no idea.”
“Jarod, I know what the Centre is and what it did to you, but does that make my friendship somehow more valuable than----say, Argyle?”
Jarod looked surprised and I wondered if Argyle was the best example I could have chosen.
“No,” He admitted thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose it does. Although it would make it easier to carry on certain conversations.” He added with a small grin.
“That’s true. Although, in Argyle's case, just having a halfway normal personality would make it easier to carry on certain conversations.” I scribbled on my little pad. “But I'll admit that the entirety of the Centre is a little much for the average person to swallow. Since when have you wanted a confidant, though? You've always been such a loner---why the sudden need for---oh, you were hoping for a peer, weren't you? You wanted an equal?”
“Yeah, I guess I was.”
“Jarod, there is no such animal, not for most people. So you’re a genius; big deal. I’ll bet I know more about children than you could hope to---even with all of your book knowledge. I know how to approach a hurt animal, do you? I know how to listen, when to give advice and when it’s pointless to even try, do you? I know how do get eggs from a broody hen, you?----EVERYONE is different with different strengths and weaknesses. Get the point?”
“I think so.” He still had a small frown between his brows. I resisted the urge to smooth it away.
<I'm not taking in this particular stray.> I promised myself firmly. <He's got too much baggage and you have your own problems!>
“Grandma said something like that, but I didn’t think she knew what she was talking about.” Jarod's eyes were dark with emotion, mostly loss.
“She’s a wise woman." I pointed out quickly. Grandma Tubman would be a better advisor and comforter for Jarod than I ever could, if he'd let her. "I wouldn’t ignore her advice lightly. You missed out on an entire world of knowledge by not having a mother---Grandma would be a good resource to fill that lack now.”
“So, I suppose you want a new identity and to disappear?” I felt torn by the husky note of loss in Jarod’s voice. How could he be hurt that I wanted to disappear---he'd barely met me! He’d placed far too much hope in the belief that I was another Pretender and I suspected that even with my assurances to the contrary he still hadn't really given up that hope.
“Understand this Jarod, and understand it well; I will never go back to the Centre---not ever! You place yourself at risk for just that every single time you play white knight. I like you---I’d like to be your friend---but there is no way I’m willing to take those chances. I’m afraid for you to have any clue as to who I am or where I’ll be. What if you did get caught? And Raines managed to break you---and he could! Do you know what would happen if he got his hands on both of us? No way, not ever, NO!” I could tell that my face had gone white at just the thought.
“I think I know now how my father felt.” Jarod mused, his eyes intently on my face. “You haven’t told me half of what happened to you at the Centre, have you? Like my father, I wonder just what you've left out, but unlike my father, I have far too many ideas as to what they could have done to instill such fear.”
“Back off, Jarod.” I wrote, the letters shaky as my hand trembled with suppressed emotions. I didn't want to explore what had happened at the Centre at that moment---it was still too new, too fresh in my mind. “If I want a counselor I’ll find one.”
“Who? Who could you possibly tell this story to? On the other hand, I am an accredited psychologist.” He smiled boyishly.
“I don’t have to tell the truth, just a close facsimile of it. Believe me, I’m very inventive.” I countered. "Besides, I'm sure the credits were probably forged."
"Please, don’t run off.” He asked me gently, turning serious again in an instant. “You could stay here; I have lots of friends here who would help you get settled. I really think I could use someone to talk to from time to time who knows exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Why do you want this so badly?” I demanded, frightened by his need.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I feel responsible for you---if it weren’t for me---” I cut him of with a few swift strokes of my pen.
“Even if you never existed I’m sure Raines would have tried some other warped experiment----or maybe I’d have gone to a different parallel world. You aren’t responsible for me, Jarod. I’ve taken care of myself for a VERY long time now.”
“That doesn’t make the guilt go away.” Jarod countered ruefully. “Besides, I feel like I can really talk to you----like I don’t have to be on guard all of the time. Even when I talk to Sydney I’m always wondering what he makes of what I’m saying and if his answers are honest. You know more about me than anyone in my life, and you have no hidden agenda.” Jarod answered, his voice sad and faintly surprised at the same time. His face showed a combination of utter loneliness and wary preparation for rejection.
Jarod was getting to me. My self-interest was drowning under a wave of compassion. I’m a sucker for strays. Don’t ask me why, but I’ve rescued virtually every injured animal that came my way. Every child in the neighborhood practically lived at my house, and some of the things they told me! Maybe I radiate some sort of message that says, “I’ll understand you”, or something, because I’ve had total strangers tell me things they wouldn’t tell their own spouses!
“I don’t know.” I wrote, still arguing with myself. My cautious nature was warring with my nurturing nature. I wanted to protect myself but I was starting to feel almost compelled to help Jarod at the same time.
“Why don’t you join me for breakfast and a tour of the town.” He suggested, working hard to keep his voice calm and reasonable but hope was radiating from his face. He probably could have fooled anyone else, but I knew what to look for. I understand too well how it feels to be alone in a hostile world and I knew far to well the scars it left on your soul.
Still, I struggled for the strength to refuse him. I knew that it was a doomed effort even as I did so. I could no more resist the tragic little boy that so frequently peeked out of his eyes than I could the force of gravity.
“Please?” He asked, the little boy appearing as if by magic.
<Damn those scriptwriters!> I thought with acid resignation.
Already kicking myself for giving in I gave a defeated nod, turning the little boy from tragic to triumphant in an instant. I firmly tamped down the warm feeling of pleasure that his joy gave me.
<No more strays, remember Rose? We can't afford the association. Have you forgotten Lyle?>
<Forget it.> I answered myself, knowing the battle was lost. <You don't stand a chance against those chocolate eyes and that velvet voice. All you can do now is cut your losses.>
“But I’m not having ice cream for breakfast.” I wrote firmly. “I don’t care how good it is!”
Jarod smiled warmly, knowing he'd won as well.
"What do you think about chili?" He asked innocently.
End