A/N - Okay, for those of you who did not like the way Chapter 3 ended, this one is for you. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer in part 1

Angel
by imagine

Chapter 4 - The Light

She easily jimmied the lock on a window at the rear of the house and slipped inside. Though it appeared deserted, she moved slowly, with her hand wrapped tightly around the gun held in front of her. The muscles in her shoulders and arms were taut, forming an almost perfectly straight line from fingertip to shoulder blade. Her blue eyes moved around the room quickly, taking in everything as she looked for something to help her cause. At the door, she peered around the frame, listening for sounds that might indicate she was not alone.

Once a quick search of the adjoining rooms was completed, and she was satisfied the house was empty, the gun was holstered. The brunette crossed to the front door, and released the latch as she motioned toward the van parked at the edge of the trees. She watched from the porch as the vehicle approached and came to a stop only feet from where she stood. Then, without waiting for the occupants to exit, the woman turned and re-entered the house.

She was standing in the middle of the living room, her eyes scanning every corner, when the men crossed the threshold. Immediately, waving her arms toward the back of the house, she said, "Start at the end of the hall and make your way forward. I'll start at the other end and do the same. We'll meet right here."

"How many times are we going to have to search this house? It gives me the creeps."

Glaring at the balding man, who suddenly looked terrified as he realized his words were spoken aloud, she said, "As many times as it takes. Do you have a problem with that, Broots?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, quickly correcting himself with, "I mean, no, ma'am."

"Good. Now, what about you, Syd," she dared, shifting her attention on the older of the two men. "Any objections to searching Raines' house again?"

"No objections," he said softly, "but I would like to understand what you hope to find. You went through this house a week after he was taken, and then the three of us searched it again a month later. We found nothing either time."

"Haven't you heard? The third time is a charm."

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the woman. When she shifted under his gaze and moved toward the nearest room, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm. Though she could have easily slipped from his grasp, Miss Parker came to an abrupt halt and faced the man.

"It has been months, Parker," he said softly.

"So do you want to give up? Do you want to quit?" she dared. "You surprise me, Sydney. I thought Jarod was important to you. I thought you were worried about him."

"Of course I am worried," he countered, tightly. "But, the fact remains that it has been almost five months and we are no closer to finding him than we were the day he was taken. Lyle may have been telling the truth when he said Jarod escaped."

She let out a dull laugh and finally pulled from his touch. "Lyle is incapable of telling the truth. If Jarod had escaped, we would know. You would have been the first person he would have contacted."

"Not necessarily. He may be with his family. He may have . . ."

"If he were with the Major, Ethan would not have called me and told me I had to continue searching."

"E-Ethan called you?"

Her eyes slid from the psychiatrist to the balding man standing behind him. She nodded and took a deep breath before saying, "Two days ago, after the search of Angel House turned up empty. He said we needed to find him soon."

"So, why are we here? Why aren't we at the Centre where we can . . . ?"

"Because he isn't at the Centre, Syd!" she snapped, frustrated by the questions. "He isn't at the Centre or at any of the facilities we've searched. We can't keep guessing about where to look for him. We have to start at square one, again, and we're running out of time."

"They may have taken him out of the country," he pointed out. "Our time would be better spent sifting through the Centre database for . . ."

"He hasn't left the country." Moving to the desk at the back of the room, she began opening drawers, keeping her back to the two men. "Lyle and Raines have not left town since that night and there is no way in hell they would ship him off without one of them tagging along."

"She's right," Broots murmured. "I checked their personal records myself. Neither of them has gone further than Dover, and that was months ago, for only a few hours a day. But they did clear their schedules for the next two weeks."

"Which means Ethan was right. They plan on moving him soon and, if they do, we will never find him," she said. Then, as she continued searching the contents of the desk, she murmured, "There was something here, or at Lyle's apartment, and I missed it. I missed the clue that would lead us to where they're keeping him. We have to find it today."

Though they hesitated, glancing at each other out of concern for her sudden change of tone, neither man said a word.

"We're wasting time," she said softly, breaking the silence.

Nodding mutely, the men moved toward the back of the house. She waited until they disappeared into the back bedrooms then continued her search of the desk. At the back of the drawer, her hand wrapped around a small bottle. When she pulled it into the light and read the label, Miss Parker felt a sudden wave of deja vu.

"Why?" he murmured, as she slid from his body. "Why are you doing this? All I wanted to do was help you."

"You are helping me, Jarod."

She let the bottle of sleeping pills fall to the desk and closed her eyes, forcing the memories away. For months, she'd been haunted by his last words and, for months, she'd been desperate to give him the explanation she'd been unable to give him that night. The longer it took to find him, the more desperate she became. Her plan had failed and he was paying the price.

Turning abruptly, she wiped her eyes and started toward the hall. As she crossed over the large rag rug that was centered in the room, her heel caught in the material and Miss Parker stumbled forward. Quickly steadying herself, she turned to glare at the offending item and found the edge of the material was curled beneath itself, trapped between the floorboards.

Curious, she crouched beside the rug and lifted the opposite corner, her eyes widening at hinges hidden in the floor. Her heart rate increasing, she pulled at the flat ring that was embedded in one of the boards and, though the door was heavier than she expected, it opened easily. When it was standing upright, she peered into the dark hole that was left in the floor.

"Raines, you are a son of a bitch," she muttered.

Immediately, Miss Parker retrieved her gun and a flashlight from Raines' study. Keeping both in front of her, she slowly moved down the cement stairs. The further she descended, the colder the air seemed to get but, rather than the heavy dampness she expected, there was a stench of sweat and blood.

When she flipped the switch at the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a narrow, windowless corridor that led to a heavy metal door. Both latches, one placed about six inches above her head and the other flush with the floor, were engaged.

Her hands were beginning to tremble as she slid the metal bars to the right and pushed the door open. As it swung inward, she noticed that the light from the hall illuminated only a fraction of the cell. Once again dependent on the flashlight, Miss Parker angled the beam from corner to corner and stepped cautiously into the room.

The only two air ducts in the room were in the ceiling and no larger than a sheet of notebook paper. The space in the wall, where windows should have been, had been filled so tightly with bricks that not even a sliver of natural light filtered into the room. Chains hung from the back wall and, even from where she stood, she could see that the metallic cuffs were stained with dried blood.

"Forget something?" a deep, tired voice asked.

Startled, she shifted the light to her right. She found him nestled against the wall in a prone position, his face buried in the bricks. His clothes were thin and, even in the dim light, she could see shadows of bruises and long scars on his back.

"You could say that."

She saw his body stiffen at the sound of her voice. Unsure, he rolled from one shoulder to the other. When he was frozen between sitting and laying, his hand rose to shield his eyes from the glare of the flashlight. Immediately, Miss Parker lowered the beam and took a step toward him.

The deep timber she knew his voice should be, was lost in labored, raspy breaths, making her name almost unrecognizable.

Not trusting that her own voice wouldn't crack, she nodded and took another step. Though the man relaxed slightly, she came to a halt when his confused expression suddenly transformed into anxious dread. He pushed himself to a sitting position and his gaze shifted toward the echo of rapid footsteps behind her. She waited, knowing that his quiet panic would soon subside.

"Sydney," he whispered disbelievingly.

"I'm right here, Jarod," the older man promised. Moving around Miss Parker, he sat beside the Pretender and, after a moment of hesitation, the younger man leaned into his mentor's embrace. "You're safe."

"Miss Parker," Broots grinned, coming to a stop at her side. "You found him."

She nodded as she watched Sydney wrap his arms around the Pretender. "Help Sydney get him to the van."

Doing as he was told, the technician positioned himself to Jarod's left as Sydney did the same at the man's right. Together, they helped the Pretender to his feet but, once he was upright, Jarod waved them away. He started toward the door at a slow, painful gait and came to a brief halt in front of the brunette. Though he said nothing, when she was unable to hold his harsh gaze, Jarod shook his head in disappointment before heeding Sydney's gentle warning that Raines would be returning soon.

Miss Parker waited until the three men were at the door, before following.

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Having been imprisoned in darkness for months, Jarod flinched violently at his first contact with direct sunlight. A raw cry escaped his throat as he buried his face in his mentor's shoulder. Immediately, Sydney slid his arm protectively around the man he had raised and held him against the wall of the stairwell.

"Keep your eyes closed," he murmured. "Trust me. You are safe."

She saw the Pretender hesitate before reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. His right hand tightened on Sydney's shoulder while his left rose to cover his eyes then, slowly and awkwardly, Jarod moved up the cement steps.

Broots followed closely behind, his hands lifted to support Jarod's back until they were standing safely in the middle of Raines' living room. While they waited for the injured man to catch his breath, Miss Parker carefully dropped the trap door back into place and covered it with the rag rug. Then, moving around the men, she propped open the front door and crossed to where the van was parked.

By the time she was seated in the driver's seat, Jarod was crossing from the house to the porch. He came to another stop but, unlike the previous delays, this time, a small smile started to stretch across his bruised face. With his eyes closed, he lifted his face to the sky and took a deep breath. Sydney allowed him the moment to savor his freedom then quietly urged the man down the stairs and into the van.

"This isn't the Centre, is it?" he asked, when he was belted into his seat.

"No, you were being kept at Raines' house in the woods," Sydney replied. Reaching into the bag between the seats, he retrieved a bottle of water, opened it, and pressed the container between the younger man's hands.

"And, where are you taking me?".

She heard the suspicion in his voice and glanced in the rear view mirror. Sydney met her gaze then turned back to the man beside him. "We are taking you some place you can rest and recuperate. You will be safe, Jarod."

When the van started moving, Jarod took a long swallow of water and released a soft sigh. Though his eyes were still closed, he turned his face toward the window and rested his forehead on the glass.

"What time is it?"

Surprised by the question, Sydney hesitated then looked at his watch. "Twenty five past one in the afternoon."

"The hottest part of the day. Summer is over," he whispered, sadly pressing his open palm against the pane. "Isn't it?"

"Not quite," the psychiatrist replied, with a slight smile. Patting Jarod on the back he added, "There are a few weeks left, plenty of time for you to see the sun again."

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He dozed periodically during the drive, but the slumber was never deep and it was never restful. When they finally stopped, he knew they were several hours from Delaware. Sydney and Broots were no longer with them, having gone back to the Centre to solidify their alibis. His mentor had promised to see him the next day, but, for the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, Jarod would be alone with Miss Parker and he was not sure how he felt about the fact.

Slipping on the dark glasses Broots had found in the glove compartment, Jarod looked out the window. He discovered quickly, though, that the muted red glow of the sky was still too bright for him. Disappointed, he closed his eyes and pushed himself from the chair, not bothering with removing the glasses.

A cool breeze greeted him as he stepped from the van and, once again, Jarod stopped to fill his lungs. After months of stale air that was thick with the smell of his own sweat and fear, he could not seem to get his fill of the late Summer air of the mountains. She waited patiently, watching his face until he nodded he was ready to continue then led him to the steps of another house.

"This is a bungalow I rented when I left Blue Cove," she told him. "No one at the Centre knows about it. You'll be safe here."

"For how long?"

"As long as you need."

Jarod cocked his head to the side and turned his face toward hers.

"No one will find you here."

"Is that so?"

"You have every right to doubt me, Jarod," she said, unsure of whether his question was honest or a taunt, "but there is a small part of you that still trusts me. Go with it."

He hesitated then placed his hand on her shoulder to indicate he was ready to continue into the house. As she began to move, though, he warned, "It may be a small part, Miss Parker, but it's holding everything together. Don't destroy it."

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They sat in the kitchen for a short time, eating a light meal of broth in silence. When they were done, she helped him to the bathroom. While he moved slowly around the room, she filled the tub with warm water.

"There are fresh clothes on the counter to your left, next to a razor and shaving cream. The towel bar is on the wall to your right," she said, watching him sit, still fully dressed, on the edge of the tub. He slid his hand into the water and, almost immediately, his entire body seemed to relax. "The room is dark, so you should be able to manage. Call me if you need help."

When he nodded, she backed out of the room and closed the door but did not move from the threshold for several minutes. She listened for sounds that didn't belong, sounds that would tell her if he needed help. Thankfully, all she heard were a few faint splashes and no sounds of distress.

Finally, letting out a soft sigh, she turned away from the door and crossed to the windows of the bedroom. Without denying the light breeze she knew he craved, Miss Parker dropped the shades and pulled at the curtains. Additionally, on three of the four windows, she draped heavy blankets. The fourth, she decided, did not need barricading because of the thick shrubbery that filtered the sun from the outside.

As she stepped away from the windows, she noticed the clock on the night stand. Comparing its report of the time to that of her wristwatch, Miss Parker frowned and moved to the bathroom.

"Jarod?"

"I'll be out in a minute."

In the time it took him to reply, her hand had wrapped itself around the knob. Slowly, she loosened her grip and stepped away from the door, staring at it until it opened.

Dressed in the sweat pants and T-shirt she had left for him, Jarod did not immediately move into the bedroom. Framed by the doorway, he looked at the makeshift window dressings and smiled.

"Those really aren't necessary," he said, indicating the blankets. "The sun set hours ago."

"Someone once told me that there is a sunrise every morning. So far, he's been right."

Smiling at the reference to their childhood conversation, the Pretender hugged his bruised ribs and moved into the room. He bypassed the Queen-sized bed and lowered himself into the leather recliner in the corner.

"Okay," she sighed, looking at the small tube in her hand. "Sydney wants this antibiotic cream applied three times a day. When we're done, you can get some sleep. You're exhausted."

His reply was automatic and, even as the words were said, he regretted them. "Thanks, but I'll pass. The last time I fell asleep with you in the room, I woke up bound and gagged in the trunk of a car."

The tone of his voice startled her, not because it was undeserved but because it was unexpected. Since freeing him from the house in the woods, Jarod had said very little to her but, the words he had spoken had not been harsh or accusatory. She had almost convinced herself that he had forgiven her for the past five months.

"I suppose I deserved that."

"Gee. You suppose so, do you?"

She hesitated, watching his jaw tighten and his hands ball into fists, opening the wounds that decorated his wrists. Steeling herself for more outbursts, she dragged the steamer trunk from the end of the bed to his side and sat down.

"Let's get this over with," she said, lining up the medical supplies on a clean towel. "Take your shirt off."

He sighed then reluctantly did as he was told. The salve was cold and, in some places, it stung, but it was the movement of her hand as it slid across his chest that kept Jarod's attention. Her touch was the way he remembered it, tender and strong, all at once. The only thing that surprised him was that she was trembling.

His dark eyes slid to her face, searching for an explanation to her anxiousness but the woman refused to meet his gaze. After a moment of silent urging, he looked away and, for the first time, noticed the pendant around her neck. Without thinking about it, Jarod reached out and gently fingered the gold colored cherub. When he realized her movements had come to a halt and that she was studying his face intently, Jarod let his hand drop to his lap. His eyes, however, remained on the necklace.

"Aaron insists I wear it every day," she explained softly. "He says angels are good luck."

"I think they can be. They turn up when you least expect them," he replied. Then, looking up at her, he asked, "Is he all right?"

She hesitated, then continued massaging the ointment into the cuts that traveled the length of his chest, above his heart. "Yes. He's waiting with . . . a friend."

"Is he happy?"

"I think so," she smiled, not looking up from his chest. "He calls me Momma, now."

"How do you feel about that?"

"He said he wanted to be like the other kids and asked if he could pretend I was his mother," she said. Then, glancing at Jarod, added, "I couldn't say no."

Jarod was quiet a moment as her words penetrated his mind. She was looking for him to tell her it was okay that her little brother refer to her as 'Momma', and to tell her that allowing the boy to 'pretend' would not have detrimental affects in later years. After all, he knew he was one of the few people in the world who understood why she could not deny the boy a mother. And he was the only one who fully understood the drawbacks to pretending.

"You may not have given birth to him, Parker, but you brought him into the world and you have always been fierce in your love and protectiveness for him. You are his family. How he refers to you is unimportant."

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"But you shouldn't be here. You should be with him." Jarod's voice was suddenly so quiet that Miss Parker had to lean closer to make out his words. When she did, she noticed the tears beginning to well in his eyes. "After everything you did to get him away from the Centre, you should never have left him. Losing you, losing the security you represent, would destroy him."

"He's not going to lose me."

"Don't leave him again. Don't give them an opportunity to take him away from you." Unaware that his soft words of warning were deteriorating into moist pleas, or that he was alarming the woman beside him, Jarod continued, "He deserves a better life than we had. He deserves . . ."

"Relax." Sliding her hand to his face, she brought the man's glistening eyes to hers, startling him into silence. "I promise that Aaron will never know anything but freedom, Jarod. I will kill anyone who tries to take him away."

When she released him, he sighed heavily and wiped his face with trembling hands. Then, leaning forward so that his elbows were on his knees, he replied softly, "You'd have to get in line."

Resting his forehead on the heel of his palms, he felt her hand on his and arm and squeezed his eyes tighter. He had not made a conscious association of Aaron's life and his own until he heard himself give her permission to be the boy's mother. Suddenly, the idea that the child could be ripped away from her and forever trapped in a sub-level of the Centre seemed a distinct possibility - and it sparked more emotion than Jarod could process.

Her hand slipped over his shoulder to his back and softly traced the long crevices that sliced across his body, marks of the serrated belt Lyle had been so fond of using. The touch was so gentle, and so unlike anything he'd felt since the night he was taken from her home, Jarod recoiled. But, instead of allowing him to pull away, Miss Parker slid both her hands into his and brought Jarod to his feet.

"I meant it when I said I was willing to do anything necessary to save the boy."

Moving backward, she drew him closer to the bed then lowered him to the mattress. "I know."

He did not resist when she slid his legs under the blankets, or when she gently coaxed him against the pillows. When she sat beside him, with her hand still wrapped in his, he whispered, "Lyle and Raines want him back. They . . ."

"I know," she repeated, stroking his hair as he stared up at her, "but it's all right. I promise, Jarod, tonight, Aaron is safe. Everyone is safe."

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He woke with a start, and a vague image of Raines' face, to find she was sitting beside him, holding his hand. Before he could find the words to question her presence, she stroked his hair and murmured for him to go back to sleep. Her voice was so soft, so reassuring, he complied immediately.

The second time he woke, his heart was pounding in his chest and she was gripping his shoulders tightly, tears running down her cheeks. The nightmare faded quickly, leaving only a hint of the terror that had woken him. In his confusion, he asked her where he was and she had replied he was safe. He nodded tiredly and drifted into another restless sleep until he heard his own voice crying out and found himself sitting straight up with her arms around him.

"What time is it?" he asked, shakily pulling away.

"Four thirty," she replied, handing him a glass of water.

"Have you been here all night?"

She shrugged and tapped the bottom of the glass, indicating he should take a sip. "I didn't have anything better to do. Besides, when you're not having nightmares, you're kind of cute when you sleep."

He returned her half grin, then slid the glass on the night stand. "Well, I hate to ruin your fun, but the sleeping portion of tonight's entertainment is over."

Miss Parker backed away from the bed as Jarod slid his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushed himself to his feet. Instead of heading toward the bathroom, as she expected, he crossed to the door that led to the rest of the house. She followed him.

"I just need some fresh air." Glancing over his shoulder as he stepped onto the porch, he smiled at her and continued to the wooden railing. "I don't need a baby-sitter, Parker. I'll be fine out here, by myself."

She watched him, silently, as he leaned against the railing and stared into the darkness. The breeze was cool, and the soft rhythm of the rustling trees that lined the property was so hypnotic that Miss Parker moved to the porch swing. Pulling her knees to her chest, she curled up on the corner cushion and stared into the darkness.

"What are your nightmares about?" she asked, after a few minutes.

His head dipped and she saw his back tense, but before she could apologize for the question, he took a deep breath and replied, "It varies. Sometimes they're about the Centre, itself, or about a sim. Sometimes, they're about people I've met. Sometimes they make no sense, they're just disconnected images that spark a fear in me."

"And, sometimes, they're about things that have been done to you."

Jarod was silent a moment then nodded. "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

He looked up, his dark eyes barely visible in the dim light. "Why? You didn't cause them."

"I'm the reason you were sent back. Of course I'm to blame," she said, rising from the swing.

His brows furrowed and he started toward her, but Miss Parker avoided his touch. Part of her was screaming to let it go, to leave well enough alone. For whatever reason, Jarod didn't consciously blame her for what happened. But, a larger part was gnawing at her, forcing her to make him face the truth of that night five months ago.

"What's wrong? Did I do something, or say something that upset you, Parker?"

"You called out for me. You kept asking me the same thing you asked that night. You kept asking me why I . . ."

"Parker, it was just a dream."

"You have no idea how badly I wish that was true, Jarod."

He frowned as he stared at her in the dark.

"I thought I would have an answer for you," she whispered. "I thought I knew why I did it, and that my reasons were sound but the longer you were missing, the more I wondered if there might have been another way."

"What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was suddenly deeper than it had been all night. When she faced him, she saw confusion in his eyes and tension in his face.

"When I came upstairs with the drinks, you were still in the shower and the pills were on the night stand. I was exhausted, Jarod, I wasn't thinking clearly. If you had come out of the bathroom thirty seconds earlier, things would have been much different."

She saw his muscles twitch but, rather than the snide comment she expected, Jarod spoke in a calm, patient voice, "Parker, you don't have to explain any of this. It's over."

"No." Shaking her head at the tenderness in his voice, she said, "It's not over, Jarod. Not yet. Not until you understand."

"Well, then we may be here awhile because you are not making sense."

Ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood, she continued with her explanation, "My mind was still on our conversation about Aaron. All I could think about was that I needed to get him away from Lyle and Raines. I thought you were the only way I could make that happen. Aaron was the only person I wanted to keep safe."

His face suddenly lost all expression and, when his dark eyes searched her face, her breath caught in her throat. She saw forgiveness. She saw confusion. He still didn't understand.

"After I made the phone call to Lyle, I started to come to my senses but it was too late to turn back the clock."

"You called Lyle?" he gasped.

She barely heard his words, but she saw his hesitation and forced herself to hold his gaze. Her confession was starting to make sense to him. His need to forgive was disappearing as quickly as his confusion was becoming frustration. All she could hope for was that, when it was over, the forgiveness would return.

"I made a mistake. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought that you would escape, or that I would find you before . . ."

"Before what? Before they did this to me?" he dared. Stretching out his arms, Jarod ripped off the bandages that covered the cuts on his wrists, the burn marks on his shoulder and neck, the needle punctures in the crook of his elbow. "I hate to break it to you, but your timing was off."

"I never meant . . . "

"I honestly don't care what you meant," he growled. Then, as a memory flashed, Jarod's eyes widened accusingly. "You put a gun in my mouth. You said I owed you and threatened to kill me."

"Jarod, I would never have pulled the trigger. You know that," she insisted. When he shook his head and looked away, she added, "Lyle was already suspicious. I needed to convince him that you and I weren't working together. If I had wavered, shown any bit of hesitation about hurting you, he would have eaten us both alive and Aaron would have been trapped forever. Using the gun on you was the only way I could get the job done."

"Why are you telling me this, Parker? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to know the truth, to understand how and why everything happened. You need to know that I looked for you. I searched the Centre and . . ."

"Meanwhile, I was trapped inside a black hole beneath Raines' house. Do you know why they wanted me isolated? They thought they could force me to run simulations on you and the boy. They thought they could force me to tell them where you would go, what you would do with the DSA's. When I refused, they beat me, drugged me, or left me alone, bound and blindfolded. Then, of course, there were the days they tried to persuade me with combinations of all three. Does that bit of truth make you feel any better?"

She shook her head, dumbly, staring at him as he began pacing the length of the porch. He never raised his voice, never took on a threatening tone but, for the first time in her life, she was frightened of him.

"I was such a fool. Even after Lyle gave me your message about having your happily ever after, I told myself fairytales to explain away your actions," he laughed cruelly. "I had all kinds of scenarios worked out: Lyle surprised you while I was upstairs and you had no chance to warn me. Jimmy was actually an employee of the Centre and gave me up. Someone followed me from Raines' house and . . . ."

"Jarod . . ."

"Don't." He lifted his hand, palm side out, and shook his head. "I don't know what you're going to say but I do know I don't want to hear it, Parker. Not now."

"You have to understand . . ."

"But, I do understand. I understand more than you realize. Your intentions were good, Parker. I could never fault you for protecting Aaron, nor would I do anything to put him in harm's way," he insisted. "But, instead of working with me, instead of letting me help you, you made a conscious decision to betray me. You are no better than the rest of your family, Parker. You used me."

She stared at him, her mind reeling as she tried to pinpoint the moment in the conversation where her confession and apology had become a weapon of destruction. "No. I . . ."

"You used me," he repeated.

She saw his barriers rise. She saw his eyes flash and, a split second before he turned his back on her, she saw all his emotions fade.

"What do you want from me, Parker?" he asked when she slid her hand to his arm and stepped in front of him. Whether it was frustration, lack of sleep, or genuine hurt that made his eyes fill with tears, she didn't know but, when he spoke, she heard desperation, "Do you want me to say I forgive you? Fine. I forgive you. I understand why you sold me out and I forgive you. Now, please, just leave me alone."

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It seemed like she'd waited hours but, in actuality, the car pulled into the driveway only forty-five minutes after she'd left Jarod on the porch. Returning to her spot at the window, she pushed back the sheers and watched the newcomer park behind the van. When he climbed the steps and crouched beside Jarod, she slid her bag over her shoulder and stepped outside.

"He's all yours."

Though she tried to avoid the touch, the older man reached out and grabbed her arm. "What happened here last night?"

"The truth.". Then, pulling herself from his grip, she started down the stairs, knowing he would follow. "When he's ready to hear it, tell him I'm sorry."

"Miss Parker, wait."

"I can't, Syd," she answered, pulling at the car door. Turning toward the man, she glanced over his shoulder as the Pretender disappeared into the house. "Jarod needs you and I've been away from Aaron too long."

Then, sliding into the car, Miss Parker backed out of the driveway, leaving the confused psychiatrist standing at the edge.

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He found Jarod in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to the door. His shoulders were slumped and, as Sydney watched, the Pretender leaned forward to rest his head on his fisted hands.

"Jarod, what happened here last night?"

"Nothing I want to discuss."

"Very well," he sighed. Then, without another word, the psychiatrist slipped from the room.

When he was alone, Jarod pulled back and opened his right hand. He turned the angel pendant over in his hand until his eyes could no longer focus on the delicate features. Then, taking a deep but shuddered breath, the Pretender dropped the necklace into the drawer of the night table and rose from the bed.

From that point on, Jarod became trapped in his own thoughts. Her voice, repeating that he owed her and would pay, woke him when he tried to sleep. When he was alone, she whispered that she had called Lyle. And, even during the most mundane of conversations with Sydney, Miss Parker managed to interrupt him with promises that she wouldn't have pulled the trigger.

The more he tried to make sense of the memories, to understand how she could have used him in such a way, the more confused and frustrated he became. The more he tried to ignore the pendant in the drawer, the more often he needed to hold it in his hand.

"Talk to me, Jarod. It has been three days since Miss Parker left and you are still obviously troubled by her departure. Tell me what happened."

The Pretender looked up from the porch swing. "I don't understand how she could do it, Sydney. How could she hand me over to Lyle without a second thought? I thought we were getting closer. I thought she was beginning to trust me."

Sighing softly, Sydney lowered himself to the seat across from his protégé. "What did she tell you?"

Jarod averted his eyes and stared at the darkening sky over the older man's left shoulder. "That I was wrong."

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Six weeks later . . .

He watched them from the ridge as they ran along the rocky shore of the lake. The boy giggled when he was caught but soon squirmed from the woman's grasp and led her in a race down the beach.

In spite of himself, the man smiled.

She lifted the boy over her shoulder, lightly patting his buttocks as she carried him back to their starting point. When the light breeze carried her hair in front of her face, she pushed it away and tucked it behind her right ear.

Absently, the man slid his hand through his own hair and sighed.

Letting the boy drop to his feet, she began running up the stairs that led to the road. Her young playmate kept pace for a half dozen steps, then, suddenly took the lead as she slowed her gait. The grin on the boy was wide as he reached the top, punching the air dramatically as he faced the brunette.

"I win!"

"You're getting too fast for me," she panted, feigning exhaustion.

"Come on." The boy ran to her side, grabbed her hand and pulled the woman toward the road. "I want to tell Ben that I won."

He waited until they vanished around the corner before stepping from his hiding place. From where he stood, he could see the gables of the Inn he knew was their destination. Instead of following them, the man readjusted his sunglasses, turned and moved in the opposite direction.

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It was twilight when he made his way back to the Inn. Hearing soft music and laughter emanating from the back, he circled the property and stood at the edge of the driveway. A small table sat in the center of the patio and, behind it, a portable CD player sat on the ledge of a window box.

She was facing him, though her eyes were trained on the boy to her right. To her left, Ben was quietly sipping his coffee, listening to the conversation of the other two with obvious pleasure. As the sudden sound of her laughter floated toward him, he felt his determination waver but kept his gaze on the woman until the weight of his stare made her look up.

If she was surprised to find him there, she didn't show it, nor did she give any indication of whether she was happy about seeing him. Instead, she looked down at the boy. A moment later, Aaron and Ben disappeared into the house and she was standing in front of him.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he murmured.

"Of course you did."

He glanced at the patio and the candles that lit the center of the table. "What is the occasion?"

"We're leaving. Tonight is our last night at the Inn and Ben wanted to have a farewell party." As she spoke, she walked toward the front of the building and, obediently, he followed. "How did you find us?"

"I will always be able to find you, Miss Parker." Then, in a thicker voice, he said, "I thought you were happy here."

There was no question but she nodded in agreement. "Very."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"You know why, Jarod. Aaron and I are like you, now. We have to keep on the move."

He glanced at the house as Ben pulled the little boy from a window on the second floor. The sheers fell into place quickly but, even from where he stood, Jarod could see the child was intent on watching what was happening outside.

"I understand that Raines' house in the woods caught fire two weeks ago," he told her.

"Is that so?"

"The Fire Department suspects arson. It seems that there were several canisters of oxygen being stored in the garage. When they exploded, the house and its foundation were demolished."

"What a shame," she said absently. "I'll have to send him a card. Maybe Hallmark has one that is appropriate. Do they make a 'Sorry your den of torture has been torched' card?"

Jarod frowned, not at the comment but at the fact she refused to look at him. "According to Sydney, Raines is claiming you set the fire and that you threatened him."

"Dr. Billy must be confused."

"Funny, that is one word I would never use to describe him." Taking her hand, Jarod stopped walking and turned the woman to face him. "I would, however, use the word dangerous. If you are leaving here because of Raines, tell me. I can . . .."

"One thing has nothing to do with the other, Jarod. It's just time to move on."

"Parker . . ."

She stepped away and folded her arms across her chest. "Why don't you just tell me why you are here, Jarod?"

He looked into her eyes for a long moment then turned and crossed the road as if he had not heard the question. When he reached the steps leading to the beach, he took them slowly, his hands lightly brushing the rail on either side as he moved. Miss Parker watched from in front of the house, finally deciding to follow him when his shadow was no longer visible. When she stepped onto the sand, she crossed to where he was waiting with his hands buried in pockets of his leather duster. His eyes trained on something on the far side of the man-made lake.

"Sydney told me you searched for me," he said, when she was beside him.

"I told you I searched for you."

He shot a quick grin in her direction. "If I had been listening, I suppose I would have heard you."

His grin began fading the moment her eyes met his. The glance was brief but it was hard and, by the time she looked away, neither his eyes nor his mouth held any trace of humor. Jarod shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took a deep breath. This was not how he had imagined the start of this conversation.

"I never meant to use you."

"I know and I was wrong to say you had," he replied somberly. "It took me days to make sense of everything you told me and, when I did, I realized you did the only thing you could."

She looked at him. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes." Jarod slid his hand under her chin and stared into her eyes. "You did good, Parker. You saved your little brother and, in the process, managed to save me, too."

"Not exactly," she replied. Pulling from his touch, she looked out at the dark horizon. "I never meant for you to be locked up for so long. We didn't find the trap door at Raines' house until our third search. If . . ."

"You didn't find it, because it wasn't there," he interjected. "The cell in Raines' basement didn't exist when they took me."

Her eyes darted from the water to his face, waiting for the explanation she knew would be forthcoming. Somehow, knowing he had her attention made him relax.

"The Fire Marshall's report included the original architectural design of the house. There was no cell, nor was there any documentation of work permits to add one. The only explanation is that Raines paid someone under the table to make the changes, after he and Lyle . . . took possession of me."

Though he had not meant the words to sound accusatory, when Miss Parker dropped her eyes, Jarod felt his gut clench.

"Lyle and Raines needed to keep me isolated and disoriented until they could move me into my new prison. In the beginning, they used drugs, but they knew it was a short term solution. If they had any hope of me doing the simulations, they needed me to have control of my mind."

When her eyes snapped up to his, in alarm, he shook his head. "I didn't do them, Parker. I would never run a simulation on you - for any reason."

Her blue eyes danced across his face for only a moment before she turned and moved back to the shore. "So, where were you?"

"Broots mentioned that Lyle and Raines took several trips to Dover, so I had him do some digging. It turns out Lyle owns an old pharmaceutical warehouse on the outskirts of town. Sydney and I drove out there last week and there is no doubt that it is where I was kept for the first two months."

She wondered what was at the warehouse, but the lost expression on his face stopped her from asking. Piecing together what had been done to him, and confronting the evidence they'd found had obviously not been easy. The last thing she wanted was to make things more difficult.

"So, you were in Dover. It would have been nice if Broots had thought to run a title search six months ago, when you first went missing," she groused.

"Don't blame him. It probably would not have changed anything. By the time you compiled the information, they would have had me moved to the house in the woods."

"I'm beginning to believe that finding you was nothing more than dumb luck."

"Luck, dumb or otherwise, had nothing to do with it." he corrected, sternly. "The reason you found me was because you wanted to, Miss Parker. You are the most determined, resourceful and stubborn person I have ever known and I am very grateful to you."

When she didn't comment, he lightened his tone and said, "However, you are starting to show the signs of forgetfulness. I found this in my room at the bungalow."

Though she didn't need to, she looked at the trinket in his hand before moving further down the beach and turning her face into the wind. "We both know I didn't forget it, Jarod. I was returning it to its rightful owner."

"I gave this to you months ago; that makes you the rightful owner." Jarod stepped behind her and, with his eyes on the gold cherub, hesitantly added, "Considering the things I said to you the last time we were together, I will understand if you tell me to take it away, but, I really want you to have the necklace, Parker. Please."

Telling herself that arguing was not worth the effort, she nodded her acceptance of the gift and stood perfectly still as Jarod hung the pendant around her neck. His hands were warm, a direct contrast to the breeze blowing in from the lake. When he began a light massage of her shoulders and arms, though, she forgot about the chill in the air. The points where his skin touched hers suddenly became the only points on her body with any feeling.

"So, does this make us friends again?" she asked hoarsely, when his arms slipped around her waist.

"We were never not friends, Parker. It would be against the laws of nature."

His touch felt good and when he drew her back, against his chest, she closed her eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of his embrace. But, when his stubbled cheek brushed against her face, the image of Jarod sitting beside her at the cove, holding her intimately as the sun rose from the ocean surfaced, followed, instantly, by the memory of how he had distanced himself later. When he leaned forward, his breath pulsated against her neck, she felt her entire body tense and, before he realized what was happening Miss Parker bolted forward, splashing them both with cold lake water.

"Parker, what are you doing? The water is freezing."

"And, yet, at this moment I would rather be out here than standing in your arms," she hissed, spinning to face him.

"Why? What did I do?"

Now knee deep in the water, with her skirt floating around her, she glared at him. "What did you do? You turned my life upside down. Every time I see you, you turn my life upside down. Why did you have to come looking for me, Jarod? Why couldn't you have gone on your merry way and left me alone?"

He stared at her, his alarm turning to confusion. "Is that what you want? You want us to be apart?"

Churning the water into white foam as she trudged through it, she stepped onto the shore and glared at him. "It's worked for us this long."

"Actually, it hasn't." Grabbing the woman by the shoulders, he turned her to face him. "Why do you keep running away from me? I would never hurt you."

"I'm not the one who runs, Jarod. Remember? I chase." Wrenching from his hold, she began to slowly back away, toward the cement stairs. "When my father died, I needed you. I needed you more than I have ever needed any man in my life and you were there for me. You kept me from falling apart."

"Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?"

"Because I wanted more than your support, Jarod. I wanted you. I wanted you and you turned me down. No matter what I did . . ."

Embarrassment crept into her cheeks as she heard the words echoing in her ears. Tears she'd been unaware of were suddenly blurring her vision and following the lines of her jaw. Unable to continue her confession, Miss Parker wiped her face, spun on her heel and quickly started up the steps to the road.

"No!" he yelled, racing toward her. "You are not going to run away again."

Circling his arm around her waist, he pulled the woman back to the beach. The more she struggled, the closer he held her, pinning her arms at her side. Finally, the woman went limp and, suddenly, there were no other sounds but her soft sobs of frustration and his heavy breaths of exertion.

With his arms still wrapped around her, holding her face to his chest, Jarod dropped to his knees. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered hoarsely, "Parker, I promise you, turning you down was the single most difficult thing I have ever done. But, I had no choice. Giving in to you, allowing us a few beautiful hours of pleasure, would have done nothing but create another nightmare."

The words elicited a strangled cry from the brunette. Pushing at him and desperately looking for traction in the sand, she writhed and bucked to be free but, despite the abuse he'd suffered, Jarod was still stronger.

"No! Listen to me," he pleaded. "When we were done, when every ounce of energy and passion was sated and we had a taste of something we could never have again, nothing would have changed. That would have been a nightmare. Eventually, I would have had to leave you, Parker. I can do many things but I could never make love to you one night and abandon you the next. So, as hard as it was for me to stay and not touch you, making love and then walk out on you would have been unbearable."

As he spoke, the tension in her body began to melt and, in response, Jarod loosened his grip. By the time he was finished, she had turned in his arms and watching him intently.

For the first time since they were children, the idea that he might be making a fool of her never entered her mind. Mesmerized by the myriad of emotions etched on his face, she slid her hand up his arm. His breaths were rapid but she didn't stop to consider the reason. She followed the dark, glazed eyes as they darted across her face, anxiously searching for a clue to her thoughts so that he could counter them, if necessary. Yet, when her hand slid from his arm to his cheek, and she brought her lips to his, his reaction - or, rather, lack of one - betrayed the fact that he was surprised by the move. The Pretender recovered quickly, however, and, by the time they separated, Jarod and Miss Parker were breathless.

"I'm sorry."

The words came so soon after the kiss that Jarod was not sure he could comprehend their meaning. He laughed and tilted her head back so he could look into her eyes. "I knew you were a perfectionist but . . ."

"No," she growled, pulling away from him. She brought her knees to her chest and wiped her eyes. "I'm not talking about the kiss. I'm talking about the way things turned out for us."

"From where I'm sitting, I think things are beautiful," he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. When she shot him an annoyed look, he smiled. "Don't you see, Parker? Our circumstances have changed. The game of you-run-I-chase is over."

She sighed and nodded, turning her gaze back on the water. "You're right. Now it's you-run-I-run."

"And we are free to go in the same direction. Together."

Her eyes shot back to his and she shook her head. "Jarod, I have a five-year-old boy with me, now. You can't come with us. You would be risking your freedom, as well as ours."

"I would never risk your freedom, or Aaron's," he said, seriously.

"Not intentionally," she agreed in an equally stern tone, "but the fact remains that it is much more difficult for three people to disappear, or to dodge Sweepers in a chase, than it would be for one."

"My parents were on the run with Emily, for years."

"We are not your parents."

"No, we're not," he said, pulling her to her feet. "But we have them, Ethan, Emily and Jake for support. There is strength in numbers, Parker. You and I know more about the Centre and its machinations than my parents ever hoped to know. Ideally, with their help, we could close it down, forever."

"You're dreaming."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But, it's a nice dream and, since I don't have them very often, I tend to try to make them come true. I can't promise it will be easy but I know we can make this work for us, Parker."

Stunned by his sincerity, Miss Parker could not find the words to respond. If she said yes - and she wanted to say yes - she and Jarod would be together. Aaron would have a role model who was strong, warm, and generous - all the things the men in her family were not. They would become a family. They would have an extended family that included the Jarod's parents, sister and clone, as well as the brother they shared.

How the hell would she explain the relationships to Aaron? What if Jarod's family refused to accept her, or Aaron? What if . . .

If she said no, she would not have to worry about Jarod's family, or their feelings toward her. However, she and Aaron would be on their own. She had no doubt that Ethan would be in their lives, but she could not say how often. If something happened to her, there would be no one to care for Aaron. He would be alone and vulnerable.

"You're shivering," he reprimanded, lightly, as he slid off his long coat. "That water must have been freezing."

"You've never even met Aaron." Even to her ears, the protest sounded weak and she wondered why she verbalized it.

"Children like me," he grinned, "almost as much as I like them. But, if it would make you happy, you can introduce me to him tonight."

Then, in one, smooth and impulsive movement, Jarod draped his coat over Miss Parker's shoulders and brought his mouth to hers. Though her instinct was to pull away, the feel of Jarod's hands as they rested lightly against her hips was enough to hold Miss Parker in place until the urge passed.

When they finally separated, it was slow and hesitant but, after shooting her a quick smile, Jarod abruptly slid his hands beneath her knees and lifted the woman into his arms. She let out a cry of surprise and, instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck as Jarod laughed and cradled against his chest.

"Jarod, what are you doing?"

"You're wet and you're cold," he replied. "I'm carrying you back to the Inn."

"I can walk."

"Yes, but this is much more fun," he smiled.

Secure in his arms, she slid her hand to his face and began gently stroking his stubbled cheek. Almost immediately, Jarod's mischievous smile melted into tender adoration. He leaned into the touch, kissing her open palm while his eyes held hers. He enjoyed the sensation of having her so close - physically as well as emotionally. It was a feeling he was willing to fight to keep alive for the rest of their lives.

"Please, let me give you your happily ever after," he whispered.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips. "You already have."

THE END (really, I mean it this time!)

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