Ok, so Deb and I just couldn't let the plot thread that I started with "Queen of the Night" go. The following is a continuation of that Sydney tale and takes place before, during and after the installment, "Dark Side of the Moon." If you haven't read "Queen" or "Dark Side" you're likely to get lost. So give 'em a try. Heck, read all of them! I should also mention that this story exists mainly as a character study of Sydney. There is very little action or suspense, just a little trip inside the man's head. Thanks to Deb for all of her input, without which this story would not have happened. And to Maria for her fantastic beta skills. Any and all thoughts and comments are welcome to my email address. Liked it? Hated it? Feel free to let me know the answers. Rated R for some sexual content. Disclaimer: All characters from "The Pretender" are the sole property of MTM Inc., and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. "The Fire Within" Swikstr <"Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away But something in our minds will always stay..."> -- Sting, "Fragile The Centre -- Blue Cove, DE September He sat at his desk, absently running his fingertips over the cool metal of a paper clip. Before him stood a stack of reports on data from the latest batch of twins, and he regarded them with a weary, depressed eye. It was all so useless. Blowing out his breath softly, Sydney sat back, looked at the paper clip and sent it skipping across the slick unmarked surface of his desk. In a flash, she was there, in his head. Ellen. Where was she? What was she doing, right now? What was she feeling? Was she thinking about him? The jumble of thoughts had risen without warning. They always did. He had capitulated a long time ago and simply leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Remembering... The whisper of his hands as he drew them over her fevered skin. The taste of her teeth, her tongue, against his -- like a cool drink of water. The vortex of her cobalt eyes, dilated, luminous. Him drowning in their smooth, liquid warmth. The light, clean essence of her scent -- soap, the lingering traces of the Lagerfeld fragrance she wore, and the undeniable smell of woman. He took a quick breath and heard the hammering of his pulse in his ears. It had been months now and he could still recall every single one of the myriad impressions from that night. The soft, moist rasp of her tongue across his fingertips. The sweet-salty taste of her skin; of her desire. And the vibration of her voice as she soared; as he pushed her ever higher, to ecstasy, release, fulfillment. He had heard his name spoken many, many times, by countless people. But nothing compared to the throaty, exultant way that it sounded when she'd uttered the familiar word at her peak. An idea struck him, and he laughed for an instant. Was this how the pretenders felt? When they were immersed in a sim? Did they experience every fleeting taste, touch, and smell? Did they see every minute detail? Hear every faint sound? Closing his eyes again, he saw hers. The velvety black of her widened pupils, rimmed with a thin ring of blue fire. He could feel the flutter of her breath against his neck as if she were really there, in the office with him. Arousal bolted through him. Stark, intense, demanding his attention. The pure pleasure and pain of it made him feel light-headed. He remembered the heat of her body. Blanketing him. Surrounding him. Pulling him into the warm, silky depths of her being. And in that moment, Sydney knew he had undergone something he'd never experienced before. Not even when his twin brother was still with him. He had felt whole. With a low groan, he sank his teeth into his lower lip, and the sudden, sharp twinge snapped him back to reality. To sanity. To the present. His office. The Centre. Sydney gazed at the phone, a pensive look forming on his features. The hell with it, he thought, suddenly mobilizing himself into action. He gripped the handset in one hand, and dialed the number from memory. "Good afternoon, Marion Academy," he heard the formal voice of the receptionist. "Ellen Moreau, please," he asked, keeping his voice steady. "Whom shall I say is calling?" "Dr. Sydney Greene." He waited as she requested he hold, idly directing his gaze around the familiar confines of his space. The sound of her voice immediately drew back his attention. "Well, as I live and breathe..." He heard the husky, welcoming tones echo throughout his brain, and desire rocked him again. Sydney smiled in relief. He hadn't known what to expect from her by calling. They'd had no communication since he'd left her that morning, in Chicago. He had wondered if perhaps she would be irritated, upset, or unsure. But no, she was herself. The woman he remembered, dreamed about, almost nightly. "Cat got your tongue, Syd?" He heard her speak again. "Or is this a wrong number?" Her playful tone widened his smile, and he answered finally. "No, it's definitely the *right* number," he chuckled. "How may I help you today, Dr. Greene?" she teased, the warm timbre of her voice belying the formality of her words. "Oh, it's nothing, really, just..." he trailed off, trying to get past the heat she instilled in him -- to focus on the conversation. "Ellen, I have to see you," he went on in a rush. "Now." She inhaled sharply. "Really? What a coincidence. I've been thinking that I need to see you, as well." He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Now what? "Look," he continued, a tremor in his voice. "I don't think there's a way I can get back out there right now. Is there any possibility that you could come here?" The stirring sound of her laughter rang in his ear and he heard her say, "Where? To Blue Cove? The Centre? Now I know you've taken leave of your senses. Frankly, I think there'd be too much of an...audience there, for my tastes." "Well, you may be right about that," he countered, trying to remain sober in the face of her mirth. It still absolutely amazed him that she was confident enough to make a joke at the Centre's expense. In an absurd way, he found it attractive. "I don't suppose you have any suggestions?" "Of course, I do," she said, without hesitation. "Meet me down on the coast, at the Cape. Do you remember? Where the staff used to go for a little r&r? I don't think you ever joined us, but..." "I'll find it," he interrupted slowly, thinking about how he would get away. "When can you be there? Tonight?" Ellen let out an amused gasp. "Lord, Sydney. I may be willing to move earth, air, and water, but I need at least 24 hours to do it. Okay?" "That's fine, Ellen. Just come to me. As soon as you can." "Oh, I'll be coming, Syd. One way or another..." Her voice trailed off, ending with the soft click of the phone. Her last suggestive comment lingered with him as he replaced the handset. 24 hours. He only hoped his sanity would last that long. ********* The Centre Early November The sound of her familiar, determined stride impinged on Sydney's consciousness. "Good morning, Miss Parker," he greeted her, without looking up. "Sydney," she replied, pausing before the table where he was sitting, paperwork stacked in neat piles around him. "Doing a little light reading?" she continued sarcastically, as he raised his eyes to hers. "No," he said, knowing she was being facetious, but seeming to take her comment seriously. His reaction was calculated to annoy her and by the look on her face, he could tell he was succeeding. "These are just the latest reports on the twins. We took four distinct pairs, and separated them. One group is being tested on --" Miss Parker frowned in annoyance. "Please. Spare me the fascinating details." Looking around furtively, she lowered herself to sit opposite him. "We got it, Syd." Her voice was so quiet he almost missed the words. Raising his eyebrows, he peered at her intently. "Broots and I did it. A few days ago." She went on, whispering, "Look, I know Jarod still calls you. Can you let him know that it's time? That I need to see him?" Sydney continued to gaze at her in silence, thinking. It didn't really add up that she and Broots had been able to accomplish what they'd done. He was well aware of Lyle's history, and part of him refused to believe that the man could so easily be fooled. "Syd?" Her voice drew him back from speculation. Meeting her eyes, he nodded in agreement. He couldn't be certain of his fears and thus he avoided the urge to caution her. She wasn't likely to listen anyway. "Thank you," she mouthed, rising, and continuing aloud, "Enjoy those bedtime stories, Syd. Maybe next year they'll promote you to reading Dr. Seuss." She turned on her heel before he could reply and left the sim lab, leaving him to his troubled thoughts. ********* The Tech Room Three Weeks Later "I'm telling you, Sydney, she's going to leave without telling us," Broots' voice was tense, worried. "You really think so?" Sydney asked, frowning in concentration. "Yes," Broots continued urgently. "It's been what, three weeks, since I got that information with her? You don't think she's spoken with Jarod in that time? That they haven't made plans?" "Mmm...I'm fairly certain that she *has* spoken with him by now," Sydney replied, thinking of his last conversation with Miss Parker. "And did she tell you anything about that?" Broots interrupted. Sydney was silent for a moment, pressing his fingers to his mouth, in thought. Then, looking at Broots, he replied, simply, "No." "Well, me neither. You know she'll try to protect us Sydney. She doesn't want us to go out there because she's afraid of the risks." "Jarod will be with her." "Yeah, and I know how you feel about his abilities. But I'm not so sure." "Explain, Broots," Sydney demanded, giving the man a sharp glance. "I'm starting to have second thoughts about how easy it was to obtain Mr. Parker's location. Not to mention creeping into Mr. Lyle's office." Broots stopped, looking around nervously before continuing. "Miss Parker is too focused on finding her father to think straight, but I've worked here long enough to--" He broke off as they heard the chirp of a cell phone. Sydney reached into his inner pocket and came up with it, thinking that Broots was lending a certain credibility to his own fears. He absently pulled out the antenna and snapped open the transmitter. "This is Sydney." "Sydney, it's Ellen." The words, her voice, were so unexpected that his mind blanked for an instant. Closing his eyes, he fought to regain his equilibrium. "Where can I call you back?" he asked after a moment, blinking and noticing that Broots was regarding him with a peculiar look. His lips tightened. This was not a good time to have a spectator, and besides, he still had concerns about communicating with her from inside the Centre. "I'm at home," she said, pausing. "It's important." Was he imagining things, or did she sound tense? Well, there was time enough to find out, just as soon as he could get away from here. "Give me a few minutes." He waited until he heard the click on her end, then turned to the other man. "If you'll excuse me." Sydney strode from the room without another word, as Broots stared after him, frowning with concern. ********* He stood in the Centre gardens, which looked forlorn and barren in the cold, wintry air. The wind whipped his hair and reddened his cheeks, and he shifted his weight back and forth, trying to ignore the icy temperature. "Hello?" "Ellen," he answered softly, "What's troubling you?" he continued, his voice becoming a caress. "Nothing," she replied quickly. Too quickly. "What makes you think something is wrong?" she went on. "Ellen, please." Sydney looked up at the spindly tree branches above him and noticed that it was beginning to snow. She hadn't responded yet, and his feelings of unease intensified. The Centre? Had they found her somehow? Threatened her? No, he concluded in a heartbeat. If that were the case, she would tell him immediately. In fact, knowing Ellen, she would probably tell Lyle and Co. to take a flying leap and not even think of bothering him with such a thing. She had made it very clear on numerous occasions that the Centre did not intimidate her. So, what then? "Ellen, are you there?" he asked, an impatient note entering his voice. It was damned cold outside. "Sydney, I need to talk to you about something." She sounded firm, as always. Controlled. Solid. But there was definitely an underlying strain in her tone. "I *had* gathered that," he said wryly. Inside though, anxiety raged. She was not the type to refrain from speaking her mind. Sydney was beginning to suspect that something was *very* wrong. "I don't want to do this over the phone, Syd. Is there any chance you can come to Chicago? Or can I meet you somewhere?" He thought back to another phone conversation along such lines and marveled at the difference. The last time, her voice had fairly exuded desire -- pleasure at hearing from him. And when he'd last seen her... He shook his head slightly, knowing this wasn't the time to get carried away with that type of fantastic daydream. In any case, their parting had been agreeable, and full with the promise of things to come. Now, Sydney wished she would just tell him what was going on. Besides, the conversation with Broots was still fresh in his mind, and he knew that particular situation wouldn't put itself on hold. Jarod and Miss Parker were still his primary concern, and he was determined to ensure that they came to no harm. Finally, he spoke. "Actually, this isn't a good time, Ellen. There are some problems here that require my undivided attention. Can it wait a few weeks?" He heard her sharp intake of breath like an angry crackle over the phone line, and suspected she was finally ready to let him have it. Whatever *it* was. But nothing could have prepared him for her next words. "Sydney, I'm pregnant." The statement, spoken in a cold, concise manner, hit him like a blow. "What?!" "Yes," she continued, devoid of any expression now. "I saw my doctor yesterday." He slowly sank down on one of the concrete ornaments in the garden and listened to her unfolding silence. He could hear music in the background where she was calling from, and recognized it as Beethoven's Fifth Concerto. The Emperor. One of her favorite pieces. A disjointed part of him wondered at how the human intellect was able to take such absurd notice of the most ridiculous details when confronted by a crisis. "Tell you what, Syd," she broke into his musings abruptly. "Why don't you take a little time to think about this, and call me when you're ready." He tried to react to what she was saying, but found that he couldn't talk. Couldn't move. Could barely even think. It was as though the cold outside had taken possession of him. His brain. His senses. A child. Ellen's child. His child. "Sydney?" her voice was sharp as a razor now, and the words seemed to cut across him, drawing blood with each stroke. He needed to get off this phone. Out of this desolate garden. Away from the numbing cold. "I'll call you," he whispered then, disconnecting the phone without another word. He sat still, the minutes stretching on. Time suddenly seemed to have no meaning. Then, as if at the direction of some voice heard only to him, he rose and began to walk back toward the building. His pace quickened, until he was practically running. Running away from the nightmare that was suddenly, inexorably unraveling before him. Anger. Disbelief. Fear. All three pooled relentlessly in his gut. Sydney stopped at the steel security door, leaning his head against it's icy surface, gasping for breath. "Goddamn it," he said in a low voice, raising his fist to pound it into the metal. Railing at the cruel hand that fate consistently dealt upon him and the ones he cared about most. "Goddamn it to hell." ********* He opened his eyes slowly and blinked in disorientation, waiting for his surroundings to come into focus. The office. His desk. A dim lamp illuminated over his head. The clock that read 3:30. Was it a.m. or p.m.? Sydney sat up slowly, joints creaking in protest as he raised his head from where it had rested on his folded arms atop the desk. The air in the room felt cold, and he realized that it must be very early in the morning. The Centre's heating system was set back during the night, and that would account for the chilly temperature. He gazed dispassionately at the open liquor bottle and empty glass before him, still trying to orient himself. Why was he still sitting in his office so late, asleep, with the taste of scotch still bitter in his mouth? Then it hit him suddenly, in a rush. The phone conversation with Ellen. The news that he was going to be a father. With a groan, Sydney leaned his head back down onto the heel of his hand. He had practically hung up on her because he was too busy dealing with his own distress to consider her feelings. Shame flooded through him, followed by anger. Anger at himself. And then the fear began to crawl up out of his innards, nauseating him. Taking a deep breath, he repeated those words over and over again, like a mantra, as his heart slowed back to a more measured pace. He shook his head sharply, striving for clarity. The situation was a disaster, but what he needed to do now was to analyze it, ponder it, figure out the best course of action. Rising, Sydney headed toward the bathroom in his office, stopping before the mirror, half afraid that if he looked up he would discover that his eyes were twirling like pinwheels. The absurd thought took hold and he began to chuckle. His laughter became more unrestrained, until it took on an hysterical edge. God really was a practical joker, he thought, sobering suddenly and wiping the tears from his eyes. Here he was, at a mature, advanced stage in his life, presuming that long ago choices had already predetermined the path of his existence. Now this. The irony shook him to the core. His and Jacob's life had been effectively appropriated from them once, long before. Never mind that it had been his choice at some point to play out his career at the Centre. What other way had he known? What other route had there been? And back then, he had made a firm decision that he would not seek what he perceived to be the mundane pleasures of family life and existence. He *had* been sorely tempted once, by his feelings for Ellen when she was still at the Centre. But Jacob had stood between them, and his accident had essentially driven a wedge between him and Ellen that had lasted for over thirty years. Yet even before that happened, Sydney had felt very deeply that he couldn't ever consider being a parent. One of his biggest strengths had always been the ability to engage in cold clinical analysis and diagnosis -- even for himself. And he had concluded at some point that the baggage he'd carried around from time spent with his father was simply too heavy. Besides, he'd had Jarod. Sydney had known from way back how his pretender felt for him, as well as how dangerous that was. And he'd done everything in his power to bury the corresponding feelings within himself -- pride, compassion, caring. Yes, even love. And to a point, he had been successful. It wasn't until Jarod had left, years later, that he began to confront the very real emotions hidden within himself, like a steadily burning fire. And to realize that it was those very feelings that had carried him, supported him, throughout the years he'd spent mentoring Jarod. Sydney had a strong inclination that Lyle and the Centre suspected that he harbored those feelings. The idea that they might use them to their advantage had kept him in a constant state of unease. Now, the image of Lyle as a snake, coiled and ready to strike, rose unbidden into his mind, and his fear returned with a hammer blow. If the Centre found out about this situation, it would certainly become the leverage with him that they needed; to force him to use his special relationship with Jarod to facilitate an ambush. To trap Jarod and Miss Parker. And if he refused, well, who knew what they would do to Ellen? He swallowed convulsively. If he had to choose between Jarod and Ellen... That couldn't happen. Not only would she be exposed to extreme danger, but so would her child. And Jarod. And Parker. The possibilities frightened him beyond anything he had ever known. Sydney reflected on his image in the mirror, fascinated by the play of the gripping emotions he saw there. With a grimace, he leaned forward finally and splashed cold water in his face. Solution. There had to be a solution to this dilemma somewhere, but he was damned if he could see it. He moved back toward the desk in the main room of the office and sank back down in the chair. Absently, he screwed the cap back on the top of the scotch bottle and returned it with the glass to an empty drawer. *That* was certainly not going to serve any further constructive purpose tonight. Sighing, he thought again of the situation, the context, and his options. He concluded finally that there wasn't much he could do for Ellen right now that she couldn't already do for herself. The pending confrontation that Miss Parker was orchestrating with Jarod was simply too critical for him to abandon his concentration on it. His primary objective, as he saw it, was still to keep those two safe and out of danger. He owed them nothing less and was determined to see the scenario through, despite Miss Parker's attempts to circumvent his involvement. He would simply have to tell Ellen that things would need to remain on hold. The thought of her made him stop dead in his tracks, as a renewed sense of self-blame washed over him. Ellen. His warm, vibrant, beautiful lover, with the omniscient gaze, no-nonsense attitude and all-encompassing heart. What had he done to her? She had been living on her own; for herself. Content, happy, secure. Then he had made a single fateful phone call that had led them to this place. Now her life could be shattered. Sydney knew she was aware of the hazards the Centre posed and doubted that even she could remain unaffected by the threat. And he realized something else -- even beyond the danger. Her life had been ordered. Set on a course of her own choosing. That certainly wasn't the case any longer. In any event, he knew that the way he had left her hanging earlier was unconscionable. That would have to be remedied. Immediately. Standing, Sydney gathered up his suit jacket and a few other things and headed for the corridor that would lead to his Centre quarters. His footsteps echoed hollowly throughout the dark hall, creating a feeling of emptiness. At the door to his rooms, he fished out the key and unlocked it. Flicking up the lights in a reflexive gesture, he made his way over to the couch and sat down. Sighing in resignation, he slipped out the cell phone and dialed the familiar number. She answered on the first ring. "Sydney?" "Yes," he replied, not surprised in the least that she'd guessed it was him. "Do you know it's 3:30 in the morning here?" she asked, voice ragged. He had obviously awakened her. "I know, Ellen. But I didn't want to wait any longer to make this call." "I see," she replied, sounding more like her steadfast self. He imagined her sitting up in bed, hair tousled from sleep, in the black silk nightgown she habitually wore. She sniffled, then yawned, and the delicate sound touched his heart. Silence expanded between them, as each waited for the other to begin. "I apologize for the way I reacted in our last conversation," Sydney said, finally, his tone slow and measured, as he fought the inner battle to keep a rein on his emotions. He was so afraid. So angry. So confused. "I understand," she answered. "I had the same reaction myself, and I really didn't expect you to be accepting of this. At least at first." Sydney was amazed at how calm she sounded. Like her life wasn't really coming apart at the seams because of him. She even managed to inject a tone of sympathy. As if he deserved it. "Ellen, what are we going to do about this?" Some of the desperation must have leaked into his voice, for her reply was more brittle than he'd expected. "Well, I don't know what *you're* going to do about it, but I've made already made my decision. I'm going to see this through." She interrupted him as he began to speak. "It's the right thing to do, Sydney, and I'm not going to change my mind. For you. For the Centre. For anyone." Part of him felt incredible relief at her words. Relief that she'd already made the choice, and that he didn't have to. But he was also terrified of the consequences. "You're certain?" he asked quietly, calmer now. "Yes, and you can drop the cool cucumber act right now, Dr. Greene," she responded, sharply. "I *know* this has to be having an impact on you. We wouldn't be talking in the middle of the damn night if it didn't." "I'm sorry," he began again, only to have her cut him off. "Sorry for what, Syd? I'm a grown-up. I'm just as responsible for this situation as you are. And don't think I'm not aware that you're blaming yourself for this. But that's a battle I don't need to waste time fighting. If I'd had my way, I wouldn't even have told you. I can handle myself; take care of myself. I just thought you had a right to know." She finished, voice cracking slightly, but he suspected that it had more to do with the lateness of the hour than with any distress she might be feeling. "Well, now I know," he said. "I'd like to come see you; to talk about this. But there's a situation here that I think I'm going to have to take care of, and I can't get away just yet." "Don't worry," she replied, the old ironic note returning to her voice. "This isn't going anywhere. I'll still be here when you're finished." Sydney didn't answer, and after a moment she continued speaking. "I meant what I said before, Syd. You need time to think about this; to process it. Call me when you're ready." Her words were gentle, but he could tell from the undercurrent that he'd done the right thing in calling, even if he couldn't get to her right away. At least she sounded relieved; in control. Which was more than he could say for himself. "I'll do that," he said, adding, "Ellen?" "Yes?" He paused for the slightest instant before telling her, "I love you." She didn't reply at first, but he could almost picture her smile dawning; see those smoky blue eyes dilate and darken. "Thanks, Sydney. I needed that." He heard the click as she hung up and said to himself, "Sweet dreams." ********* Sydney's office -- Later that morning Miss Parker knocked perfunctorily at the door and opened it, stepping into the office. He was seated at his desk, looking away, aimlessly, at the wall. And he showed no sign of acknowledging her presence. "Syd?" she asked uncertainly, moving forward. Starting suddenly, he wheeled in his chair, fastening his dark gaze upon her. "Have you lost your mind or something? Spacing out in here...?" "I was just thinking, Miss Parker," he replied abruptly. "I *am* allowed to do that sometimes. *Alone*." The hint was unmistakable and she hesitated a moment before continuing in a low voice. "I just came to tell you that I'm going to be leaving for a while." "You understand?" she went on, meaningfully, when he said nothing. He nodded absently, and Miss Parker was further unsettled by the fact that his expression didn't even change. Sydney knew what this was all about. In fact, she had spent some time rehearsing her arguments as to why he had to remain at the Centre. She had just assumed he would insist on accompanying her. That didn't seem to be the case, however, and she wondered why. "Is something wrong, Syd?" "No." The answer was clipped and direct, and Miss Parker decided then to get out and leave him be as quickly as possible. She wasn't used to such bizarre behavior from him. "Well," she began. "I'm not really sure when I'll be back. Can you cover for me with Lyle for at least the next 48 hours?" "Of course," he said simply, giving his head a small shake as if to clear it. He looked at her then, with a sense of comprehension. "Actually, I don't think Lyle will be a problem for you. Broots told me that he and Brigitte left this morning on some Centre business." She frowned silently, considering the information. "Did Jarod create some type of diversion that got them out of here?" he asked her. "I don't know," she said, pensive. "He didn't say anything to me about it, but that doesn't mean much. I guess I'm about due for a lucky break in this whole thing." "Perhaps I should come with you..." Sydney began, leaning forward, his attention fully focused on her now. "No," she answered briskly, more comfortable since he seemed to getting back to normal. "No one needs to assume any more risk than they already have. I'm leaving tonight -- alone." They had had this argument many times already, and Sydney knew she wouldn't change her mind. "Very well, Miss Parker," he finally said, giving her a penetrating look. His unspoken warning was that she should be careful. *Very* careful. "Godspeed." She left the office, closing the door softly behind her. Sydney stared after her for a few minutes, then reached forward suddenly to dial his phone. "Hello, Broots? I need you to meet me in the usual place. An urgent matter just came up that requires our immediate attention...." ********* Rock Cove, ME -- Two weeks later Sydney sat next to the still figure in the bed, the muted light of the bedroom casting shadows across his tired countenance. Jarod had still not regained consciousness, and it had been a long two weeks. The nightmare had begun for him and Broots as they unlocked the door to Sydney's Centre-issue vehicle in the garage where they'd met, only to hear the soft, sinister voice of Mr. Lyle behind them. "Going somewhere, boys?" Both had whirled to see the man himself standing there with Brigitte. Plus a full sweep team. Sydney had known immediately that they had just walked into a sophisticated, well-planned trap. Something only a pretender could come up with. And Jarod and Miss Parker were in the heart of the storm. He rose from his chair, at Jarod's bedside, and slowly began pacing the room. God, he felt tired. Thoughts of the chaotic scene in that bedroom at Moonlake still clamored about in his memory. The sound of the gunshots. The sight of people crumpling and falling to the floor. Mr. Parker. Sweepers. Lyle. And finally, he recalled standing on the frost-laden grass outside with Broots, seeing Miss Parker sobbing out of control, hands bloodied, as she held Jarod's ominously still form in her arms. Sydney had pulled himself together at that point, knowing that Parker, Broots, and most importantly, Jarod, would need a calm, collected voice of reason to guide them out of the danger they now found themselves in. They had made it to the hospital with the help of the helicopter, and thankfully, his colleague there had been willing to assist him. The man's reluctance to treat a gunshot wound on the sly had bordered on refusal, but he'd owed Sydney from days gone by, and in the end, he had probably saved Jarod's life. Now they were here, in Rock Cove, at the home of Ben Miller. For her part, Miss Parker had spent most of her waking time at Jarod's side, and the rest holed up in her room. Sydney knew she was grappling with an overwhelming cascade of emotions. The trauma of her father's death. The truth about her history. About Catherine's murder. Her need to see Jarod though his present crisis was probably the only thing holding her together now. In his usual fashion, Sydney had let her alone. He knew she would deal with her demons on her own terms. All he could do was make himself available to her if or when she decided that she needed his help. Which left him here, by himself, with nothing to reflect upon except Jarod's peaceful repose and the problems that he had left somewhere behind him on that fateful day when he'd been forced from the Centre at sweeper gunpoint. The dilemma of Ellen and his impending fatherhood had been easily brushed aside by the events of the last two weeks. But now that things were retaking the appearance of normality, he knew he couldn't keep ignoring the situation. At least one problem seemed to have been solved -- that of the Centre and his fear of Lyle's actions should he be found out. There didn't seem to be too much that organization could do to him now, with Mr. Parker dead and Lyle gone as well. At the present, all Sydney needed to do was figure out his own feelings about Ellen's impending pregnancy -- a difficult enough task for the ordinary individual, but fraught with a myriad of obstacles and shadings of uncertainty for himself. Jarod stirred suddenly, groaning and twisting his head to the side. Sydney stepped quickly to the bed, speaking softly. "Jarod?" The other man's eyes remained shut and he settled back into what seemed to be a tranquil sleep. The movement was a good sign though, Sydney mused. The doctor had been there that morning and had told them that Jarod might wake up at any time. It seemed now that it could be sooner than they had expected. Once he was assured that Jarod was comfortable again, Sydney headed for the door. Miss Parker would want to know about this development immediately, and he hoped the news would do something to counteract the desolation that had become a permanent feature in her eyes of late. Once again, he put aside his own predicament, and set off to find her. ********* Rock Cove -- The following day The two men sat before the fire in a companionable silence, listening to the crackle of the burning logs and savoring the radiant warmth. "Almost getting time for Christmas," Ben Miller remarked absently, looking over in Sydney's direction. "Will you be staying here?" Sydney set down his coffee mug and exhaled slowly. "I don't know. I don't think so. It depends on Jarod's condition. Now that he's regained consciousness, who knows? And then there's my brother to consider." "Ah yes, Jacob," Ben said, as Sydney looked at him in surprise. "Catherine mentioned him once," he explained. "She had a great deal of respect for him. I remember it hurt her terribly when he had the accident." Sydney noticed the slight tremor in the man's voice when he spoke of Mrs. Parker. "You cared for her," he said, in more of a statement than a question. Ben closed his eyes before replying, "More than I can express in mere words." He looked back at Sydney then, an ineffable sadness coloring his gaze. "But it wasn't meant to be, for us. We were doomed from the beginning, by the same force that has conspired to affect all of our lives. Mine. Catherine's. Her daughter's. Jarod's." Ben paused. "Yours." Silence unfolded between them, as both retreated into private thoughts. Sydney listened to the hissing of the fire for a time, and then seemed to make up his mind about something. "I wonder if I could get your impressions about a situation that I'm dealing with." Ben glanced at him, picking up on the gravity in Sydney's voice. "Go ahead." "As you may or may not know, I've led a fairly solitary existence at the Centre. Except for Jarod, of course." He stopped speaking and looked down at his hands, then gazed up at Ben, who was regarding him with a questioning expression. "I've been seeing someone," he went on. "A woman. She was at the Centre a long time ago, when Jacob was still with us." He paused again, trying to find a way to explain what he was feeling. "Anyway, we didn't see each other for some time. Over thirty years to be exact. But I saw her a few months ago and..." he trailed off. Ben watched him carefully, comprehending better than the other man knew. Sydney had that look on his face that Ben had seen himself in the mirror every time Catherine had left him in the spring to return to her husband. "I'm sorry, what's her name, Sydney?" he asked, trying to lighten the stress that permeated the air. "Her name is Ellen," Sydney whispered. "And what is she to you?" Sydney's eyes lost their focus for a moment, as he struggled to find the proper words to describe her. "She's..." he waited, searching. "She is miraculous," he finally said, looking away from the other man awkwardly. Ben's soft chuckle startled him, for it wasn't the reaction he'd been prepared for. "I'd say you've got it pretty bad, Doctor," Ben said quietly. "I envy you. I'd give anything to have that feeling back." Sydney nodded, grateful for the other man's understanding. "So what's the problem?" Ben asked. "It seems to me that you're on something of a threshold here. The timing couldn't be better." Mouth quirking up in a wry smile, Sydney turned to him and said, "Actually, the timing couldn't be worse. She's pregnant." There. It was out. The words finally spoken, hanging in the air like some malevolent spirit. Ben leaned back, pressing his lips together, and looking thoughtful. Thoughtful, rather than shocked, which was what Sydney had really expected. "And you're wondering what to do about it?" Ben queried, giving him a frank look. "Mmm...yes." "Well, it seems to me that you should already know the answer to that question," Ben replied, continuing to gaze at him intently. Sydney frowned in puzzlement. "I don't understand." "Oh, I think you do," the other man responded. "I've seen you these past two weeks, with Jarod and Miss Parker. Even with Broots, before he left. You've consistently put aside your own worries and fears to deal with theirs. You've been their strength, their guidance. Certainly, Miss Parker could not have made her way through this without you." Ben paused and Sydney waited, wondering what the man's point was in all this. "I suspect you won't do anything less for the woman you love," Ben finally said. "And from what I can tell, you already know that." Sydney opened his mouth to speak, but Ben continued before he could say anything. "I disagree with your saying that the timing is poor. On the contrary, there couldn't be a better time for this. Jarod is going to be all right, and from what Miss Parker tells me, he's on the brink of finding the keys to his past. The Centre is no longer a threat to you. And neither is it a haven. I would say that there's no better time for you to walk away from the life you've led -- that which has consumed you for all these years, and start again. It's never too late. If I could have Catherine back tomorrow, you can bet I'd do exactly the same thing." He stopped and looked at the fire, pain coloring his gaze again. "But what about her?" Sydney asked, giving voice to his fears. "Ellen's life was organized, she was living the way she wanted to. Until this." Ben looked back at him and the corner of his mouth turned up in a questioning manner. "Has she expressed such reservations to you? Such regret?" "No," Sydney answered simply. "Then I'd say you have nothing to worry about in that direction. Let's face facts, Sydney. We aren't young men anymore. But that doesn't preclude us from creating a future for ourselves and the ones we love. Or in your case, for a child." "I'm not so sure I'd be a candidate for any awards in that category," Sydney replied bitterly, as the image of Jarod came to his mind. Ben sighed. "I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. Jarod is a very special person. And I refuse to believe that it can all be attributed to genetics, or intelligence, or whatever. He wouldn't have gotten where he is, as far as he has, without you." The other man's words brought a sour smile to Sydney's face. "Exactly. Look where he is right now. Upstairs, recovering from being shot . He's lucky he isn't dead. And Miss Parker. I've never seen a human being suffer so much as she has in the last two weeks." "Yes, but you aren't responsible for that," Ben went on inexorably. "What happened, happened because of a madman. Because of an organization that was immoral; that regarded the pursuit of power to be more important than the quality of human life." "But I was a willing participant in that," Sydney interrupted. "For many years. How can I forget that when I'm trying to make a decision about whether or not I'll have a hand in affecting the life of another child?" "Sydney, our lives are defined by the choices we make and the actions we undertake. Where would Jarod have ended up if you *hadn't* been in charge of him at the Centre?" He stopped then, giving Sydney time to digest the words before continuing, "Besides, what's happened before isn't what's most important. The decisions you make now -- today -- are what matter. *They* are what will determine the future. For you, and for Ellen." Ben lapsed into silence again, figuring he had said all that he could. The man would have to make up his own mind now, but he suspected that Sydney already had. He was just looking for confirmation of his own hopes, relief from his own fears. Suddenly, they heard soft footfalls as Miss Parker stepped into the parlor. Both turned their startled gazes to her. "Is something wrong with Jarod, Syd?" she questioned, realizing that she'd interrupted something. "No," he replied shortly. "Ben and I were just talking about a personal issue that I have to resolve." "I see," she said when he didn't elaborate. "Well, I'll let you two be. I just stopped here to say good-bye. I'm leaving...." ********* << Sydney listened to the phone as it rang. Once, twice, three times. Just as he expected her answering machine to pick up, he was startled to find her voice slipping into his ear. Inside of him. "Hello?" "It's me," he replied, without preamble. "Sydney," she breathed his name, and the sensual melody of it sent a zing of pleasure down his spine. "How good it is to hear your voice. I was beginning to get concerned." "Well, don't be," he said gently. "We made it through relatively unscathed. Physically anyway." He heard her gasp and quickly continued. "Really, it's all right. I have so much to tell you, but this isn't the right time." "I know," she answered. "It's enough to know you're safe." "No, it's more than that, Ellen," he said. "I think it's time we made some plans. For all of us. Together." "Oh, is that so?" her voice was neutral, but he could picture her eyes brightening; the flash of her teeth. "I'd like to get down there as soon as I can. I'm in Rock Cove now, in Maine. We're staying with a man by the name of Ben Miller." He quickly relayed the phone number at the inn. "Jarod's laid up here. Don't ask me to explain, I'll do that later. But I wanted you to know where I was at." Sydney listened to the sound of her silence and knew she was aware that he was speaking of more than his physical location. "When can I see you?" he went on, after a moment. "Anytime," she said slowly. "I'll be here, Sydney. Just let me know when." "I'll call you again once I have a better idea of where things are headed here." "That's fine," she said, pausing. "I love you." The words were unexpected, and all the more moving for that. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve this bounty; the love of this incredible woman. He was afraid to ponder it, as if questioning it would make her disappear, leaving him cold and bereft. So he didn't think. He just let himself feel. "Good-bye." Sydney disconnected, feeling more content than he had for days.>> Now, he watched as Jarod stared intently at the chessboard that they had balanced at the edge of the bed. His pretender's brow creased in concentration as he pondered what move to make next. Sydney had been thinking about the phone call. It would be time soon to get to Chicago. To see her. "Check." Jarod's low voice startled him and he looked over at the board. He wondered if Jarod realized just how little attention he was actually paying to the game. After a few minutes Sydney made his move and sat back, thinking again about Ellen. He was going to have to tell Jarod. With thoughts of leaving to head for her home, it wasn't possible to put it off any longer. Jarod hesitated for the briefest instant, then made his move. "Checkmate." His voice was calm but carried a slight edge of triumph. Sydney smiled and looked up at his pretender. Jarod was looking better every day. He was still pale, but not as thin as before, when he had finally emerged from the coma. Furthermore, the emotional despair at Miss Parker's departure two weeks prior was now only occasionally evident upon his features. He knew that Jarod's excitement at the thought of seeing his family again must be acting as a powerful countermeasure to the stresses he'd been subjected to. Still, the going must be very difficult. And now, Sydney was going to disrupt that new-found peace again. Oh well, he thought. It was inevitable. Better to get it over with now. "Jarod, I'm going to be leaving soon," he began, waiting to see the other man's reaction. Jarod leaned back against the pillows, wincing as the movement jarred his wounded shoulder. "Ok, Sydney. I'm sure I'll be fine here. The doctor said it's all right for me to be up and moving around. I just need to get some of my strength back." He hesitated, uncertainly. Sydney knew what was troubling him and responded quickly, "Don't worry. I know I told you I'd go with you when you rendezvous with your family, and I still intend to do that. There's just somebody I have to see." Jarod's face lit up in a boyish grin. "Who is she, Sydney? Do I know her?" Sydney looked at him in surprise and asked, "How do you know it's a woman?" "Miss Parker told me you met somebody in Chicago, so I just assumed..." he trailed off, quirking up an eyebrow. Sydney cleared his throat and began speaking again. "Yes, well, I believe you *do* know her. You remember Miss Moreau from your early days at the Centre?" "The teacher?" Jarod asked. "Yes." "Of course, I remember her," Jarod replied, smile broadening. "*She's* who you've been involved with? That's great!" Sydney looked away and tried to ignore his pretender's enthusiasm. He suspected it wouldn't be around for much longer. "Actually, it's a little more complicated than that, Jarod," he said, looking the other man directly in the eye. "You see, there's a reason why I need to see her so soon." Jarod raised his hand as Sydney paused, gesturing for him to go on. "You see, she's expecting. A child. Our child," he went on in a rush, worrying that he'd lose his nerve before the words were all the way out. He watched as Jarod's mouth dropped open in utter shock, then heard the snap of the man's teeth as he re-clenched his jaw almost immediately. A frigid silence ensued. "How touching," Jarod ground out, after a few moments. Unflinchingly, Sydney returned the laser beam of Jarod's gaze, realizing that it was best to say nothing for now. If he waited long enough, he knew Jarod would come to him; enunciating his feelings about this incredible news. He always did. But this time, it was not to be. "Say something to me, Sydney," Jarod said in a controlled voice, tension boiling beneath the surface. "What would you like me to say that I already haven't, Jarod?" Sydney questioned. "How did this happen?" Jarod shot back. Sydney gave an ironic smile before replying, "The way it always does, Jarod." "Don't patronize me, Sydney," he snapped, anger beginning to bleed into his tone. "You know what I mean." "Well, that's the best answer I've got for you." Sydney was treading very carefully, knowing he was in dangerous waters right now. One false move, and the relationship they shared could be fractured beyond repair. Jarod looked away, pain blossoming on his features as an oppressive stillness spooled out, surrounding them. Finally, he began speaking. "So, what am I supposed to be -- happy at this news?" His words were laced with bitterness. "I'd hoped that you might be," Sydney replied quietly. "Yeah, well I'm not," Jarod shot back. "How should I feel? Pleased that you never wanted to be a father to me, but that you're ready and willing to do it for somebody else?" "You know it isn't as simple as that, Jarod." "Isn't it?" his pretender asked. "I can't tell you how many times I recall reaching out to you during our time at the Centre. For god's sake, even after I *left* I still crawled to you. And for what??" His voice was raw with anguish and hurt. "For you to turn aside everything I said, every gesture I made, everything I ever asked for?" "There were reasons why I had to do that, Jarod," Sydney began, only to have the other man break in. "Oh, that's a lot of nonsense. You *are* the master of rationalization, Sydney. I've *always* known that. So don't even bother trying to tell me that you had to protect me. I knew the score. I would have accepted the risks. But the simple truth is that you were too afraid to tell me how you really felt." Sydney looked at him in shock. "Oh yes," Jarod continued ruthlessly. "I guessed how much you really cared. Who do you think I am? *What* do you think I am? You really think you fooled me all those years into thinking you didn't give a damn? Well, you're the fool, Sydney." He closed his eyes then, and turned away, breathing harshly with the force of his anger. Clenching his jaw, Sydney tried to overcome the frustration he felt rising up, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth. Being nailed yet again by his pretender was a sensation that he was not unfamiliar with, but it still felt as galling as ever. He wondered if Jarod realized the effect he had on some people with his all-knowing attitude. And with a flash of intuition, he understood that Jarod had to know *exactly* what he was doing. He played the game like a child provoking a parent. It was the inner child that Sydney knew Jarod had never really let go. Well, he thought, things were different now. They had been different since the day that Jarod had walked out of the Centre, even if he refused to recognize that. And the events of the last four weeks ensured that some changes were finally in order. "Jarod," Sydney began, in a deceptively soft voice. "Listen to me. I know how you must be feeling. Believe me, no one understands better than I what it feels like to be raised with indifference. But I think we both know this wasn't the case where you were concerned." He ignored Jarod's snort of derision, and pushed on. "Please realize, I didn't ask for this situation to happen. But here it is, and I am just trying to deal with it as best I can." Drawing a breath, Sydney began to speak of things, memories, that he'd kept hidden for a long, long time. "If the Tower had ever had an inkling that our relationship was anything beyond mentor and student, they would have separated us. And you might have ended up with Dr. Raines, or worse -- like Angelo." He noticed the stubborn set to Jarod's jaw, but pressed on. "After you escaped, I had to work even more carefully to protect you. Had Lyle known for certain, he could have used our connection to lure you back to the Centre. Perhaps with the threat of danger to me." "Oh please," Jarod said. "No, wait," Sydney replied firmly. "Hear me out, Jarod. I'll admit that part of the reason I never spoke of such things in the past was because I *was* afraid of opening up to you. I feared what it would do to me emotionally. Everyone I've ever loved has left me at some point. My mother. Jacob. Even Ellen. I didn't think I could bear it if I acknowledged the fact that I cared deeply for you and then one day you'd be gone." "And then you *did* leave," he paused, catching Jarod's eyes and holding his gaze. "Your departure eventually forced me to examine my feelings and motivations. That's why I was moved to help you so often. To keep you from returning to the Centre, even if it meant my own life was in danger." The room became quiet again, as Sydney stopped speaking, and the only sound was the soft tick-tock of the clock on the mantelpiece. Then Jarod spoke. "You think that speech is supposed to make a difference to me?" Sydney felt his patience begin to wear thin. He supposed he was deserving of some resentment on his pretender's part, but now Jarod seemed to be ignoring both the logic of the argument, as well as the emotions that Sydney had expressed. Actually, it seemed that he was enjoying being unreasonable. He tried again. "Jarod, I can't change the past. We can only move forward. I was hoping that you would give me the opportunity to share the kind of relationship with you that we should have had, now that the Centre is finished. That's what I'd like to do." "Right, Sydney," Jarod responded, sarcastically. "As usual, I'm sure you'll be able to make *some* time for me. In between your other obligations, of course." He did not miss the spiteful meaning in Jarod's words, and his temper finally began to get the best of him. "Stop this, Jarod. It doesn't suit you." "It doesn't *suit* me?" Jarod exclaimed, in mock amazement. "I would think someone as accomplished as you would expect at least some acrimony after what you've put me through. Or are you just too blinded by your new love to care?" Sydney was up on his feet before he could continue, leaning over Jarod as he sat on the bed, their faces inches apart. "All right, that's enough," he said icily. "You question and judge other people's actions every day of your life. You want to dissect my motivations, my feelings? Go right ahead. I can't stop you. But remember, *you* chose to follow your own path, without worrying about anyone else's concerns, starting with the day you left the Centre." Sydney drew a quick breath before continuing. "Contacting me whenever it pleased you, sending me on chase after chase with Miss Parker, playing your mind games. And never stopping once to consider how I might feel about you out there in the real world. How I might be troubled -- damn it -- afraid even, for your safety." He straightened then, almost pleased at the shocked response he saw on Jarod's face. Then, he reined in his emotions, becoming aggravated with himself at the loss of control, realizing that he should have known better. Sydney wondered what he could say to make this right. "The truth is, we all have to go our own way, eventually," he said finally, stepping back, toward the door, keeping his voice neutral. "You've had your time, Jarod. God willing, it won't ever end. But this is my chance now. Accepting that is part of growing up, and it's time you made some strides in that direction. I have a life to lead now. I'd like you to be a part of it. If you don't want to, I can't force the issue. But if you do, you know where to find me." He turned and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. ********* It was later that night, when Sydney heard a knock at his bedroom door. Assuming it was Ben, he called out for the other man to come in. Instead, he was surprised to see Jarod standing in the doorway. He looked closely at his pretender. Dressed the way he was, in an oversized Yale tee-shirt that he had pirated from Sydney, navy sweats, and only a pair of thick white socks on his feet, Jarod looked for all the world to him exactly the same as he had when he was fifteen. When he'd come to Sydney the first time to ask him how to use a razor. Syd remembered that moment as if it had happened yesterday. It had been one of the few times that he'd let himself feel the fatherly emotions of pride and amusement at a son's folly. Now, here he was, so many years and another lifetime later. "What is it, Jarod?" Sydney asked gently. "I came to tell you I'm sorry," Jarod replied, looking away uncomfortably. "I guess the logical part of me knows I shouldn't have spoken with you that way, but sometimes..." his voice broke. Sydney crossed to him in a heartbeat, pulling the younger man into his arms; holding him as pain and confusion wracked his body. "It's all right Jarod," he soothed, in his warmest, most comforting voice. "I'll always be with you. You don't have to be afraid. It's going to be all right." He continued to hold Jarod, as a father would a son who desperately needed reassurance. Which, of course, he was. ********* Rock Cove, ME -- Three days before Christmas He had just finished packing his things for the trip to Chicago, when he heard the slam of a car door outside. Walking to the window, Sydney peered down, just as one of Rock Cove's two taxis disappeared down the drive. Had Miss Parker changed her mind and come back, he wondered? Almost as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She would have driven her own automobile if that were the case. Who then? He heard voices then downstairs -- Ben's low rumble and a woman's that sounded eerily familiar. Striding to the door, he proceeded to make his way rapidly down the stairs to the foyer. And there she was. His breath caught, as Ellen turned to face him. Snowflakes sifted through her short, dark hair, and her eyes seemed filled with a penetrating sadness, though she smiled at the sight of him. "Hello, Sydney," she said huskily, catching her lower lip between her teeth in the manner that never failed to arouse him. Just as quickly, she pursed her mouth in anxiety and asked, "Is there someplace we can speak? Alone?" He opened his mouth to answer, but Ben beat him to it. "You two can just go ahead into the sitting room," he said. "There's a fire going there, so you'll be warm, and I'll just go up and check on Jarod." Sydney watched as the other man retreated, grateful for his kindness. Then he turned back to Ellen. "Here, let me take your coat," he said, reaching out to slide one side off of her shoulders. She helped him, shrugging out of it and shifting from one foot to the other nervously. He began to get a clue that something was amiss. Gripping her elbow, he led her into the other room. Once they were seated, he looked at her expectantly. "I must admit, Ellen. You've taken me by surprise. I was prepared to leave tomorrow to see you. Did you forget?" "Of course not, Syd," she responded, staring at him. "How could I?" He sat back then, confused. "Is something wrong? I tried calling you the last couple of days, but all I ever get is your machine. Actually, I *was* beginning to get worried." Ellen looked away from him then, at the fire, silent. He fancied he could see her lips trembling. "What *is* it?" he asked, reaching out to lay a warm hand on the hollow of her neck. "I was in the hospital for a day, at the end of last week, Sydney," she said, turning and fastening her cobalt gaze on him. An unpleasant awareness took hold of him suddenly, as the import of her words struck him. "Are you all right? What happened?" A solitary tear slipped down her cheek as she looked down at the hands she held clasped in her lap. "Oh, *I'm* fine," she began in a steady voice that belied her appearance. "But I'm not pregnant anymore. I miscarried. That's why you haven't been able to get ahold of me." The familiar, creeping numbness began to move through him, as he digested her words. "My doctor told me it happens frequently for women at my age. You know? The state my hormones are in, et cetera, et cetera." Ellen looked at him, unflinchingly. "I guess I never really told you that the chances were slim from the get-go. Maybe I was just hoping..." her voice trailed off on a forlorn note. Neither said anything for a while. "Sydney?" she finally asked. Her need for reassurance and support came through clearly in that single spoken word, jarring him back to attention. He sprang to her side then, kneeling at her feet and gripping her hands in his. "It's all right, Ellen," he said, looking up into her face, and meaning it. "You're safe. That's all that matters to me." It wasn't true of course. A multitude of emotions raged through him. Foremost was the frustration and anger that rose like a dark tide. It was so unfair... Ellen stood then, drawing him to his feet with her. "Don't lie to me," she said softly. "I know you better than you do yourself. You're fighting this inside. I can see it in your eyes." He looked away, unable to face the challenge he read in her gaze. "Sydney?" she asked again, more firmly this time. "Oh, Ellen," he began, looking back at her. "It's just..." "What?" His words followed with a rush of feeling. "It just seems so *unjust*. After all we've gone through, all *I've* gone through," he corrected himself, before she did it for him. "To get to this place. To reach some level of acceptance. Of contentment. Even excitement. For it to all be gone now. It just saddens me more than I can say." Sydney couldn't tell her the rest of course. That it seemed like the Centre had somehow won again. They had stolen his life, and he had let it happen -- powerless to prevent it. And now it seemed that he still didn't have control over the course of events that inevitably affected his destiny. Plus, deep down, in a place he wouldn't even admit to himself, he was relieved at the news. That reaction alone was enough to help stoke the fires of anger and self-recrimination that lay buried within him. "It's so unfair," he repeated again, in a whisper. She took him into her arms then, embracing him tightly. The smell of her filled his head, making him feel dizzy. Her warmth seeped into him, and the delicious sensation of oneness overwhelmed him yet again. "I know," he heard her say softly, strength resonating through her voice. Then she pulled back to meet his eyes. "But this doesn't mean that all we've worked for in the last month is worthless. Your recognition of the situation, your willingness to work through this together means more to me than I can say." She leaned into him again, pressing her lips against his throat, making him shiver with the sensation. "At least now we can move on," she continued, her breath whispering across his skin. "We can start making the future happen. Together." The word echoed throughout Sydney's consciousness. He realized it was more than he'd ever hoped from his life before he met her. He sent up a silent prayer, thanking his maker for the gift that was her; understanding that the most significant thing he could do with his life right now was to complete the other half of the whole that she already occupied. Everything else would follow from that. Sydney clutched her tightly at the thought, willing the anger inside of him to ebb. He would have to deal with that some other time. For now, he knew she needed him. And he wanted to be this woman's strength more than anything he'd desired in his entire life. <"I'd say you've got it pretty bad, Doctor."> He heard Ben's voice echo in his head. Truer words had never been spoken. Looking down, Sydney caught her gaze again, hoping the love he had for her glowed as brightly as hers did for him that moment. "I love you, Ellen Moreau," he said with feeling. "And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you." The corners of her mouth lifted, and she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his, the feeling sending the familiar electric shocks of sensation through him. Sydney slid his hands into her hair, letting the kiss deepen, allowing her touch to completely dampen his inner turmoil. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back. "Now, you know I'd like to continue this avenue of exploration just a bit more thoroughly," he began. "But right now, there's someone I'm anxious for you to meet." Ellen quirked up an eyebrow in the same manner as another close to his heart. "Please come upstairs and meet Jarod," he said, drawing her toward the staircase. She nodded slowly in understanding, and clasped his hand. Together they walked up the stairs, and into the future. <"And these old hopes and fears Still at my side..."> -- Paul Simon, 'The Cool, Cool River' The End. Musical References: Sting "Fragile" -- From the album, ...Nothing Like the Sun" Copyright 1987, A&M Records Beethoven "Piano Concerto No. 5 'Emperor'", Adagio un poco mosso -- Vladimir Ashkenazy with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Copyright 1973, London Paul Simon "The Cool, Cool River" -- From the album, The Rhythm of the Saints Copyright 1989, Warner Bros. All lyrics used without permission.