The unedited R-rated version of this story appears at The Tower. This one is rated PG-13 for content. Thoughts, comments -- all welcome to the email address below. Disclaimer: All characters from The Pretender are the sole property of MTM Inc., and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. "Gray Areas" Swikstr swikstr@aol.com The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware "Are you ready?" she asked in a low voice as she bent over his shoulder. "Yes, Miss Parker," Broots replied as his fingers danced over the keyboard. It was very late, and the tech room was dark. Broots had been working well into the night for the last month, ostensibly to assist in the tracking of Jarod. However, the real reason involved the sting Miss Parker was about to undertake tonight at the Centre. So far, their plan had worked. After the first couple of weeks, the sweepers no longer paid him any attention. Miss Parker, for her part, had simply remained in her office until everyone left. Then, she slipped down to the tech room to rendezvous with Broots. Sydney was not present, under her strictest orders, for she was determined to keep them all out of as much danger as possible. Tonight, she was going into her father's office to get the file on Jarod's family. After all these months, she still steadfastly refused to think of it as Lyle's sanctuary, and she hoped that the documentation would easy to find. Broots had already re-routed all the security cameras on that floor. He had also printed the sweeper security detail list so that she would be able to avoid them when they made rounds. According to the plan, he was to remain in the tech room, monitoring her progress by radio, and keeping her informed should any snags occur. Now, he looked up and over his shoulder at her. Miss Parker smoothed her hands over the material of her black suit pants and jacket in a lone show of agitation. She was literally taking her life into her hands tonight. But she, Sydney and Broots had spent a long time working out details and in her mind the risks were just low enough to be acceptable. The time had finally come to solve the mysteries of her father's disappearance and her mother's death. Tonight would be the first real step in that direction, for Broots was very close to finding the location of the safe-house where they were holding her father. He'd already narrowed it to five locations. So the file needed to be obtained *now*. It was essential to the deal she'd made with Jarod. He had agreed to help her get to her father in return for the information. Planning tonight's operation hadn't been easy. Broots was constantly being pulled to and fro in the never-ending search for Jarod, and Sydney had been forced to continue with his rounds on Centre behavioral projects. She, on the other hand, had been kept perpetually occupied by SIS in the implementation of Lyle's so-called 'Program'. The final phase was at hand in D.C., and although she loathed partaking in the preparations, there'd been no choice. But now, she and Broots were almost ready. All that was left was for her to take the long walk down to the elevator, proceed up to the office and liberate the file. "Miss Parker?" Broots' voice interrupted her reverie. "What?" she bit out, concentrating on hiding her anxiety. "I just wanted to say 'be careful'." "Why Broots?" she asked harshly. "I have *you* here to save me if this goes sour." She saw him wince at her sarcasm. "Don't worry," she continued on the same note. "It's no consolation for me either." Miss Parker turned abruptly and swept through the tech room door into the dark corridor. Reaching the elevator, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. It was the same one where her mother had been shot to death. As it ascended, she used the memories to help counteract the fear the was building in her gut. She had waited long enough. It was time to make some things happen. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped onto the deserted concourse, moving quietly to the office. According to the security detail, she should have at least fifteen minutes. Looking quickly at her watch, she bent her head and spoke into the mike attached to her lapel. "Broots, I'm at the door." "Right," was his terse reply. She smiled to herself for a moment. He was probably peeing in his pants right now. Parker slowly pulled the set of picks from her belt and went to work on the lock. In a few moments, she heard the satisfying *click* and pulled the door outward to enter the dark office. As she neared the desk, she removed a slim penlight from the inner pocket of her suit. She lowered herself into the chair, pulling on a thin cotton glove. The file drawer slid open without a sound. For an instant, she wondered about a set-up, but that didn't seem to make much sense. She assumed that Lyle and his little security team wouldn't expect anyone to dare enter his private space. Frustration began to build as the search yielded nothing she could use. The file had to be here somewhere. She closed the drawer and leaned back into the chair, sweeping the penlight about the room. Again, she spoke into the transmitter, "It's not in the desk Broots. Got any bright ideas?" "Not a clue Miss Parker," he replied. "It's *your* father's office. By the way, everything seems clear on the monitors." "Well, thanks for nothing." Parker stood slowly, her gaze wandering around the room, finally resting on a small cabinet beneath some of Lyle's pre-Colombian masks. She couldn't remember if it had been there when her father was still in residence. She moved to the cabinet, trying the door. Locked. Her hand moved back to the picks. She gasped suddenly as the lights came on in the office. Turning quickly, her shocked stare came to rest on Brigitte, standing just inside the door with two sweepers. "Well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in," Brigitte drawled in amusement. Miss Parker straightened and met the other woman's eyes, forcing herself to remain calm. "I suppose you have *some* excuse for this?" the cleaner continued. "I don't have to explain myself to you," Parker replied coolly. "I think we've been over that before." "Yes, but that time you hadn't been caught creeping around the Centre in the dead of night, in an area most obviously restricted to you," Brigitte's voice was clipped. "Surely, you must have *something* to say for yourself." Miss Parker pressed her lips together and stayed silent. "No?" Brigitte queried. "Very well then, if this is how you want it." She gestured to the sweepers and they moved toward Miss Parker. "You'll be spending the rest of the night in one of the interrogation cells until Mr. Lyle gets here in the morning. He'll decide how I am to deal with you," her voice was silky with the threat. "Wait," Parker gasped, trying to buy some time as the sweepers grabbed her arms. "At least let me stay in my office. I'll need the bathroom and a change of clothes if I'm to look halfway presentable for your boss tomorrow. After all," she continued, covertly directing her comments in the general direction of her lapel, "I wouldn't want to get *caught* looking like I've been here *at the Centre all night*." Luckily neither Brigitte nor her escort noticed her strange behavior. The sweepers instead looked to the cleaner, who nodded her head a fraction in reply to their stare. As they moved toward the corridor, Parker stopped before her and summoned up her most aloof and arrogant expression. She looked down her nose at Brigitte. "Don't think that you can frighten me," she said softly, dangerously. "I spent years in the field *and* in corporate, taking on the best that this place has to offer. I eat sweepers like you for breakfast." Brigitte smiled faintly, impressed in spite of herself at the way the woman held up in a clearly compromising situation. It would make her downfall all the more satisfying. "Heard from Jarod lately?" the cleaner asked, raising her eyebrows mockingly. Miss Parker smiled back, her expression betraying nothing. If only they knew. In silence she turned and headed down the concourse toward her office, sweepers trailing in her wake. ********* Sydney started as the telephone shrilled in his ear. He had been lying awake, but a call was still unexpected. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp before grabbing the receiver. "Hello, this is Sydney." "Dr. Green, it's Broots. They caught her in the office," Broots' words were tumbling out, almost too fast to understand. "Broots, should we be discussing this by phone?" Sydney asked, instantly concerned. "Don't worry, I secured the line before calling," said Broots, catching his breath. "Are *you* in any danger?" "No, I got out as soon as Miss Parker warned me on the radio. They're keeping her under guard in her office until Mr. Lyle gets there." "Well," Sydney said slowly, thoughtful. "There's nothing we can do tonight. We'll just have to be on the alert tomorrow at the Centre and find out what Lyle and the Tower plan to do about this." "But Sydney..." Broots was clearly in a panic. "Just get some sleep Mr. Broots," Sydney calmed him. "We'll need all our wits about us tomorrow." ********* 10:00 A.M. - The following day Miss Parker stopped before the bathroom mirror, giving herself a final once-over. She looked perfectly calm. For a rare moment, she silently thanked her father for the control he had instilled in her. Inside, she was frightened for herself, for Broots, and for Sydney. And for Jarod, if they found out what she had been up to last night. She quickly suppressed her anxiety. It was going to take a miracle to escape from this disaster, but she'd pulled things like this off before. She stepped to the door of her office, opening it to the sweepers who stood there. "I'm ready." They made their way down the concourse to Lyle's office. Idly, she mused at the difference that daylight and the bustle of personnel made from the dark silence of last night. Another day in the life at the Centre. At least they wouldn't be able to shoot her on sight, she thought. Too many witnesses this time. If nothing else, she would get the benefit of a long walk down to one of the sub-levels for that. The sweepers stopped and she realized that they were before the door to Lyle's office. They took up post beside the entrance as she entered. Lyle and Brigitte were deep in conversation when he noticed Miss Parker waiting in the doorway. "Come in, come in," he beckoned, indicating a chair in front of the desk, next to Brigitte. She stared at the cleaner disdainfully as she lowered herself into the seat. "Well, good morning Miss Parker," Lyle said, watching her carefully. "Brigitte tells me we had a small problem here last night." Miss Parker inclined her head and said nothing. "Of course, I assured her that you must have some perfectly reasonable explanation for this," he gestured around the office. "You *do*, I trust?" he continued, steel creeping into his voice. "Have an explanation for us, I mean." "As a matter of fact, yes." Parker returned coldly. "And it's none of your damn business." Lyle looked at her in surprise, his eyes narrowing. "This is still *my father's* office, and I think I'm entitled to look for something in here if I need it." "In the middle of the night?" Brigitte broke in. Parker glanced at her witheringly, taking a deep breath. "Before I answer that, I'd like to make something clear to both of you. You've no right to question my actions here at the Centre. I've given some of the best years of my life to this place, generating results for you people. Not only that, I had to manage a wild-goose chase when one of your little science experiments escaped to run amok around the country. I'm still dealing with the health problems that little operation caused. Then, I was rewarded for my hard work by having to engage in some sadistic charade of an execution when you finally did bring him in here, so you could test my loyalty. I *passed* that test, if you'll remember." "What does any of this have to do with what happened last night?" Lyle demanded. "Look, my father has been missing for months. And please spare me the ignorant act," she cut him off as he began to respond. "I haven't complained about that. I haven't asked awkward questions. In fact, I've continued to pursue the work you've given me, through SIS, on the Program. We wouldn't be in the final phase right now if it weren't for me." Lyle blew out his breath in exasperation. "All this is very interesting but you still haven't answered my question." She knew that of course. Sometimes the man was more of a dolt than he realized. Her little monologue had not been for his or Brigitte's benefit, but for the Tower representative that she saw on the video-link behind Lyle's desk. Miss Parker knew Lyle couldn't act without their approval. "I came here last night, into *my father's * office, because I was looking for some personal correspondence between he and I that I don't care to have read by anyone else. He's been gone almost a year now and I *would* like to keep some sort of connection. None of those letters were in the personal belongings that you had shipped to me. I'm sure you can understand." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she forced an earnest expression onto her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brigitte's incredulous expression, while Lyle shook his head in disbelief. "Why not simply ask for it?" "Why *should* I have to ask for something like that?" she responded angrily. "Don't I deserve some damn respect around here? Doesn't my father?" Lyle was quiet, staring at her. He knew she was lying but her explanation seemed reasonable. And they hadn't caught her with any hard evidence. It was her word against theirs. The long silence was broken suddenly by a buzz from the monitor. "Mr. Lyle, we'd like a word?" the Tower rep asked from the screen. Lyle met her eyes, his expression clearly indicating that he didn't believe a word of her story. He pressed his lips shut for a moment in frustration, then indicated the door. "Please wait outside." She stood slowly, smiling faintly down at Brigitte. "A pleasure, as always princess," she said coldly. Then she turned and stalked through the exit. ********* Her fingers shook as she held the cigarette, bringing it to her mouth for a deep drag. The warmth of the sun on her head and the sounds of the birds in the trees made little impression on her as she stood in the Centre gardens. A voice from behind startled her. "I thought you gave that up," Sydney stepped up to her side. "Stress." "I can imagine," he answered. "Are you going to tell me what went on in there?" "Nothing Syd," she said wearily. "He doesn't have enough to convince the Tower. Brigitte screwed up. If I would have had the file, it would be over with now. As it stands, they have no proof that I wasn't doing exactly what I said: looking for a connection to my father." He nodded in understanding, gripping her elbow for support. "Broots is all right," he said softly, "If somewhat more paranoid than before. I didn't think that was possible." She finished the cigarette, flicking it to the base of a nearby tree. "I'm going home Syd," she said, feeling completely drained. "I need to be alone for a little while." Sydney merely nodded, wishing he could comfort her more, but knowing she wouldn't accept it. There was only one person he thought might be capable of that. Unfortunately, no one knew what Jarod was up to these days.... ********* Early evening - Miss Parker's apartment Miss Parker sat motionless in an armchair. Once home, she had changed and tried to get down some tea to settle her nerves. When that didn't work, she'd switched to vodka, but even that had no effect. The hours spent here had failed to calm her, and the ulcer was acting up worse than usual. In despair, she had turned to the old jazz records that she had kept as mementos after Catherine's death. But even the mellow sound of Miles couldn't keep her from the pain she was feeling. Not from the fear of being caught, but rather the failure. She knew it would be next to impossible now to get what she needed, and she sank into the self- pity that had lately become a frequent companion when she was alone. It had been hard to maintain strength over the last few months. The encounter with Jarod before the summer had revived her flagging morale but now she was down to her last reserves. Miss Parker had no doubt that she could find him again if she wanted to, but it was too exhausting to put forth the effort. Anyway, she still had concerns about developing a dependency on those brief interludes. The last time, she had put both of them through a wringer because of that fear. Although they had parted on harmonious terms, she knew that it had mostly to do with the raging attraction that took over whenever they were in each other's presence. As a fall breeze blew into the apartment, she let the memory of that time in Chicago combine with the soothing sound of Miles' horn to lull her into distraction. Her hands slid over her hips, down to her legs, and back up again as she imagined the touch of Jarod's hands on her body. Slowly, her eyes closed, and she fell into the first peaceful sleep she'd had in weeks.... ********* A small rustling sound woke her and she slowly opened her eyes into darkness. The room was cold and she was stiff from sitting motionless so long in the same place. She rose from the chair, groaning as her joints popped in protest. Suddenly, she hesitated. Something felt strange somehow. The scratching noise from her turntable finally registered and she realized the music had stopped. Turning on a dim lamp, she reached over and dropped the needle back on the record, pausing at the sound of the music. Something still seemed odd. She flinched as the corner light illuminated, revealing a dark-clad form sitting on her couch. Shock radiated through her and she wondered if the stress was causing delirium. "Jarod?" His eyes met hers as he smiled his little-boy smile, and she realized that he really *was* there in her apartment. With a full compliment of sweepers camped outside. "It really doesn't matter to you that you're going to get us both killed, does it?" she asked softly, tired and too overwhelmed by the pleasure of seeing him to begin her usual rant. "They won't know I'm here," he assured her quietly, under the same spell as she. "They're too busy watching the front door." She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I climbed down from the roof to your balcony," he explained, rising to stand before her. "Oh." She looked down at his hand as he curved it around her neck. Warmth was building in the pit of her stomach, radiating throughout her body. She raised her eyes to his. "You know how I hate to ask the same question over and over, but why are you here Jarod?" She heard the slight tremor as his voice became intense. "I needed to be here," he said simply. "I need you." Oh god, she thought. How could *anyone* resist that? She drew in her breath sharply and closed her eyes in anticipation as he lowered his face to hers. He hesitated, with only a fraction of space between their mouths. "Why now?" she asked, opening her eyes to look at him, savoring the feeling of his breath commingling with hers. "Who cares?" he replied. Unable to stand it anymore, she leaned forward and captured his lips, whimpering slightly as he responded by deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue slowly against hers. Pulling away for a moment, he slid her sweater up and over her head, as she pushed the jacket from his shoulders. He bent to trace the hollow of her throat with his tongue, finally moving back to her mouth as she unbuttoned his shirt. Jarod gasped at the cool touch of her fingers as she slid them up his chest. He began to move his mouth down to where his hands rested at the base of her neck, nipping softly at her throat. Miss Parker shivered at the sensation. It intensified when his hands traveled lower --over her breasts, across the sweet hollow beneath her ribs, down to her navel, to her waist and the arc of her hips. "Jarod," she gasped suddenly, in shock. "How...when did you learn how to do these things??" "Oh, I'm a quick study," he drawled softly, dark eyes drifting up through his lashes to meet hers. "It's easy when you can pretend." She kissed him again, moving her lips insistently over his. By now, her sense of reason had fled, along with any fears she might have had about their relationship or the threat that remained outside, oblivious to their actions. Jarod trembled as her hands skimmed the waistline of his black jeans. Anticipation coiled inside him like a spring. She had succumbed more easily that he had thought she would and he wondered briefly at the cause, quickly deciding that now wasn't the time to begin an inquiry. He vaguely realized that they were stumbling backward to the couch, until he had no choice but to sit down. He fought for control as he felt her climb into his lap. He drew her head back down to his, hands skimming down the length of her back, as he gave in and held on for the ride... ********* Miss Parker woke with the warmth of the sun shining on her face. Realizing that she was stretched out on the living room floor, she pulled the throw up to her chest and shielded her eyes against the glare. She could hear the sound of running water somewhere in the apartment. Rising, she wrapped the throw around herself and headed toward the noise. She stopped a few feet from the bathroom door, studying him. Jarod stood before the sink, shaving, his hair still damp from the shower, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. She watched in fascination as he slowly drew the razor up his neck in a slow cadence. The incredible intimacy of the moment struck her, and, as always, she began to pray that the feelings that gripped her were false. He caught her eyes suddenly in the mirror. "Good morning." Miss Parker smiled faintly. "Why didn't you wake me?" "You were sleeping so soundly, I figured you needed the rest." He finished, rinsing the razor and grabbing another towel to wipe his face. She broke eye contact, looking down. This had to stop, right now. Already, she could feel her restraint starting to slip again. He was the only man alive that had ever made her feel this way. But she also knew that their situation was impossible. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked. "About six-thirty," he said, turning. He made a move toward her, stopping as she backed away, her manner speaking volumes. He frowned in frustration, capturing her gaze again. "I need to talk to you about something important before you leave for the Centre." "Ok," she answered slowly, unable to tear her eyes from his, and willing him to release her. "Let me just get ready. You'll have to make it quick though. They usually expect me at eight." "Fine," he capitulated, still watching her. She stepped past him into the bathroom, trying to calm her agitation and seriously wondering for the first time since he showed up, what this whole visit was really about.... ********* "All right Jarod," she paced impatiently in the living room, a half- hour later. "You were going to tell me why I have the unexpected pleasure of your company?" He watched her restless movements, admiring the dark jade of the suit she wore, noting that the skirt was the requisite four inches above her knees. The better to go with the four-inch heels, he supposed. It seemed the 'old' Miss Parker was back though, complete with attitude. As usual, the woman he had been with last night had disappeared with the first rays of the rising sun. It bothered him that he had to take her to bed to get her to communicate her feelings. He knew she would never speak them aloud. The closest he had come had been that first time, here in this very same apartment. But that night, she had been unusually vulnerable, plagued by thoughts of her mother's death. He knew it wouldn't happen again. She was too afraid. He realized that she was glaring at him impatiently. "I need your help with some information," he began. She glanced at him sharply. "I told you in Chicago you needed to be patient Jarod. We don't know my father's location yet, and I haven't got the file." "No, it's not about that," he said, hesitating. Was that a tremor he detected in her voice when she spoke about the file? "Did you get caught sneaking into Lyle's office?" Miss Parker thought of her failure and refused to meet his eyes. It was all the answer he needed. No wonder she had been out of it last night. He stood and moved forward to block her pacing. "Look, I don't want you to do this if it means putting yourself at risk." "Wait a minute," she said sharply, anger dawning in her eyes. "You're forgetting something. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for myself and for my father. I *don't* need your permission or your approval." "Ok, fine," he said, backing off, trying not to show the hurt her words had caused. "Do what ever you feel you have to." "I *will*," she asserted, in her familiar aggressive way. "Now what is it you want? I don't have much more time." Jarod stepped back to the couch and sat down, trying again not to think of the previous night spent in this position and how different things were now, in daylight. "I'm working on something big down in San Diego - posing as a DEA liaison with the Coast Guard. I'm part of a team that's working on interdicting drug shipments from Southeast Asia." "And?" she questioned. "I want to find out what you know about SIS's operations down there four years ago. You worked on that when you were in the field, didn't you?" Miss Parker carefully maintained a blank expression as she looked at him. "Maybe Jarod, but why would I tell you?" "Because I need your help and you trust me," he answered simply. She held her resolve for another moment, and then gave in. What did it matter now how many of the Centre's secrets she revealed to him? But she would have to be careful. Their situation was perilous enough as it was, and he could be too damned impulsive sometimes. "Yes Jarod, SIS had operatives running drugs down there for a while. R&D was constantly in search of large quantities of raw product for drug experimentation, and San Diego is far enough off the beaten path that it wouldn't attract attention. Believe it or not, that was the easiest and cheapest way to obtain what they needed." He listened to her speak in that mild, disinterested voice. Part of him couldn't believe how accepting she was of the things she was saying -- like it was perfectly normal to deal in such a highly dangerous and illegal enterprise. "I didn't spend too much time in San Diego though," she went on. "I was eventually reassigned to Chicago to pose as a pharmaceutical rep for County Hospital, monitoring some research that was going on. Come to think of it, there was a doctor there that looked a lot like you..." she trailed off. It had been a long time since she had thought about Doug. She shook her head, clearing the memory, and peered at him intently. "Why do you ask?" "I need information, names, on some of the contacts SIS was using down there as middlemen." "Why?" she questioned again. "What exactly are *you* working on?" "I think there's a 'bent' informer down there that's responsible for getting the previous DEA liaison killed. I want to know who it is. That's a person who's crying out to be taught a life lesson." His face had taken on the vengeful expression that she was familiar with. "Yeah, well drug informants are notoriously unreliable," she said, thoughtful. "It didn't take long to figure that out even in the short time I spent down there. Are you working with anyone right now?" "Yes," he replied. "I have an sixteen-year old girl named Molly helping me." Miss Parker looked at him sharply, worry beginning to form in the back of her mind. "Is she an addict Jarod?" "Not anymore," he answered. "I convinced her to go straight. She's been off the heroin the whole time I've been working with her." "Jarod, listen to me," Parker stared intently at him. "I can tell by the tone of your voice you've become attached to this girl. Just be careful. Addicts are addicts for life. I know you were a 'congressional advisor' for a drug task force, but you should know that on the front lines, life expectancy isn't too high for people that have fallen into that scene." "I'm aware of that," he looked at her in exasperation. "Believe me, I've seen enough desperation since I've been out to understand that America isn't winning the 'war on drugs'. But this DEA program can only help the situation. And the guy who got killed was committed to that. He didn't deserve to get death as a reward." "Besides, Molly is different," he added, reminding himself that Miss Parker was often incapable of seeing the positive qualities that people possessed. "Will you help me or not?" he asked, more abruptly than he'd intended. Miss Parker had often prided herself on her sixth sense for trouble and she could sense the danger building on the horizon. He sounded so naive when he spoke of his contact being 'different'. But this *was* the first time that Jarod had come directly to her for help, and she owed it to him after the disaster in Lyle's office. "I'll have Broots make some inquiries, and do some digging myself." She saw his expression brighten. "No promises Jarod," she warned. "Those contacts may be gone by now. Like I said, they're not known for longevity." "I understand," he said, standing. "I'd appreciate anything you can get me." "Fine Jarod. Just watch *yourself*. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work before those sweepers come up here looking for me." "Ok. I'll be out of here shortly," he answered. "My flight doesn't leave till ten, and I have a short phone call to make, if you don't mind." "Whatever," she said as she grabbed her things and headed for the door. "Wait," she stopped, looking back at him. "How do you want me to reach you?" "*I'll* get ahold of you." She nodded as their eyes met, thinking for an instant of the night before. He smiled in response, catching her mood, but neither said another word as she turned and closed the door softly behind her. ********* Back at the Centre - 8:30 A.M. EST Miss Parker swept into the tech room, stopping short at the sight of Lyle, Brigitte, and Sydney standing over Broots at his workstation. Lyle motioned her over, indicating that she should stay silent. "We've got a call coming in from Jarod," he mouthed. She moved slowly over to stand next to Sydney, heart pounding. What was Jarod *thinking*? Broots' phone bleeped as the call was patched through and he settled the receiver into the speaker. "Hello Jarod," Brigitte greeted, "The gangs all here, just dying to talk with you." "Of course," Jarod's voice answered easily, issuing from the speaker. "Incidentally, don't bother trying to trace the call. I picked up a few new toys at Radio Shack that make screwing with your system even easier than usual." "Never mind a trace," Brigitte replied, watching as Broots worked furiously with his computer. "Just tell us where you are and we'll forget that any of the unpleasantness of the last few months ever happened." "Actually, I'm calling from Miss Parker's apartment." Parker couldn't help the shocked bark of laughter that flew from her mouth. "That's enough silliness now," Brigitte snapped, glaring at her, knowing he couldn't be serious and refusing to rise to the bait. "Tell us your location and we'll guarantee you're brought in without harm to you or any innocent bystanders." Broots suddenly threw up his hands in disgust, shaking his head at Lyle in frustration. His manner clearly indicated that a trace was impossible. "Forget it. Don't you people ever get tired of singing the same old song? I thought I'd demonstrated by now that I'm not that stupid. If you don't believe me, just check your vault down in the Phoenix satellite office." Jarod paused, and the room filled with silence while Brigitte and Mr. Lyle exchanged dismayed looks. Sydney, Broots, and Miss Parker watched them carefully. "Hel-lo?" Jarod's voice was mocking. "Well don't worry, you won't find *anything* there. Bye all..." There was a click as he hung up. "No luck on the trace, Mr. Broots?" Lyle immediately questioned. "Not a chance," Broots replied, "I think he was using one of those new high-definition digital scramblers." "I don't understand the motivation behind this call," Sydney broke in, looking at Miss Parker. She remained silent, knowing damn well what Jarod's motivation was. He couldn't resist pulling the tiger's tail. She knew the timing and his location were just too irresistible *not* to make it. "Well," Brigitte said, waving her hand dismissively, "I'd better be getting down to Phoenix and see how much he's stolen now." "Not to Miss Parker's apartment?" Lyle asked jokingly, looking over at Parker and Sydney with a half-smile. "No," Brigitte said, as she and Lyle moved toward the door. "That's too much of a commute, even for Jarod. Phoenix is one thing..." Miss Parker watched until the door closed behind them, frowning slightly at Brigitte's words. "What was *that* all about?" Broots exclaimed. "*I* have no idea," Sydney answered, looking pointedly at Miss Parker. Now that the other two had left, her fury was evident. He couldn't imagine why a call from Jarod should upset her so much. She turned back to the other two, fighting for restraint. Her voice shook with effort as she leaned forward, speaking softly. "Broots, I need you to clear some time to look into some old SIS files on an operation from a few years ago." Broots and Sydney looked at her in surprise. "I spoke with Jarod last night," she continued, noting their expressions. "Yes, he really *was* in my apartment." Sydney nodded in satisfaction, finally understanding. Broots on the other hand, couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jarod wouldn't come within ten miles of Miss Parker. Unless...realization dawned on him, along with an irresistible urge to laugh. If he really had been there, then the situation was almost too funny to accept. "Why?" Broots couldn't help asking, "He was helping me polish my knife collection, you moron," she snapped. "Are you going to help me or not?" She glanced at Sydney, who, uncharacteristically, was having a hard time keeping his composure. "What?" she barked. "Nothing," Sydney responded, smiling and holding his hands up in surrender. "Broots?" she bit out, beginning to lose her patience with the two of them. "Whatever you want Miss Parker," he replied, a small snicker escaping from his mouth. He looked up at her, carefully composing himself. "Will you at least give me some parameters to narrow the search? Four years is a lot of files for SIS." "Concentrate on the narcotics operations in Southern California from four years ago. I need names of contacts and any other information you can did up about the conduits we were using for purchasing and shipment. And see if the name 'Molly' comes up anywhere." "Fine," said Broots, beginning to choke with the effort of holding back his guffaws. "I should be able to come up with something in the next week." He was clearly struggling as he looked over her head at Sydney. The two of them collapsed into a fit of laughter. Miss Parker rewarded them with a scathing glance. "Well, I don't have time to stand around entertaining you two jokers. If you don't mind, some of us have work to do." She turned and stalked from the room, unable to hide her own smile as the sound of their laughter trailed after her. ********* The Centre -- 5 days later. They met in one of the deserted conference rooms in sub level 5. The area was rarely ever used and according to Broots' reasoning, it was unlikely to be monitored. He and Sydney sat at the small table while Miss Parker paced and smoked. She'd been hitting the cigarettes again in the last few days to counteract the anxiety that gripped her. Something was wrong. Something about Jarod's current operation. There was some detail, hiding in the back of her mind, that she just couldn't seem grasp. And she knew it was important. Something about Brigitte's comment regarding Jarod's 'commute'. . . Broots cleared his throat. "Uh, Miss Parker. I have the information you asked about..." he trailed off, watching her. She stopped her restless movements and stood next to him, looking at the pile of paperwork that he'd dragged down with him. He seemed more nervous than usual. "What is it?" "Well, I was able to find a whole list of contacts that SIS was using during the time frame you mentioned. Luckily for us, it seems that they kept tabs on these people even after they folded the operation. The thing is, most of them are dead now, or in jail on trafficking charges." "Why am I not surprised?" she asked. "And there's no mention of anyone named 'Molly' during that period. I *did* compile a list of the informants that are still active. As you can see, there are only three." Miss Parker scanned the list quickly, but nothing seemed to jump out. Perhaps it would mean something to Jarod. "So what's bothering you?" she asked Broots. "Well, it's really *not* the old stuff that's interesting. You see, I did a fast cross-check through other divisions, even though you didn't ask for it." He looked up at her. "I'll mail you a medal parcel post," she snapped. "Go on please." Broots winced, continuing, "Some very limited stuff came back from cleanup's files. They've apparently been running *something* down in San Diego for the last month." He missed the look of alarm on her face as he went on. "That doesn't surprise me because Brigitte's been in and out of here the whole time, and I did hear her talking to Lyle about California." "God damn it!" she swore, cutting him off. No wonder Brigitte hadn't taken Jarod seriously about his location when he'd called. She had *known* he was working in California. That's what the little 'commute' comment had to mean. Miss Parker shook her head angrily as she realized that it made perfect sense. She may not have liked the cleaner, but Brigitte was *very* capable at her job. She must have realized that sitting and watching Jarod's family was becoming a waste of time, and conceived a plan to lure him into a fake operation. It was a brilliant scheme that might have worked. Except that Brigitte didn't know Jarod was still getting help from the inside. Sydney interrupted her musings to ask quietly, "Does this mean what I think it does, Miss Parker?" "I think it does Syd," she replied, tense. "Broots, what else do you have there?" "Well, it gets even more interesting...this is where that name 'Molly', *did* come up." "Of course," Miss Parker said in exasperation, understanding perfectly. She berated herself, knowing that she should have been more aware of what was going on in the Jarod project. Now, she had been blindsided by her own negligence. "I guess this Molly is being run by the Centre cleaners," Broots went on. "There are some memos about her involvement in having a DEA agent set up to be ambushed. Were they talking about Jarod?" he asked. "No," Parker replied, "But that's how they got his attention." "Then I think you better read this," Broots held out a piece of paper. She sat down to peruse it quickly, noting that Sydney had risen to read with her over her shoulder. "Oh shit," she gasped, finishing, and looking up at him with fear in her eyes. His expression mirrored her own. "I have to find a way to get down to San Diego," she stood, intent. "And I'm going by myself." "Don't argue with me Syd," she continued, as he began to protest. "You and Broots can do a lot more to alleviate this disaster by helping me get there." "How will you contact Jarod?" Sydney questioned. She blew out a breath, looking at him and shaking her head. "That's not going to be a problem," she said, indicating the memo. "He'll be contacting us." Sydney and Broots waited while she thought for a moment. "What's important is finding a way for me to get down there as soon as possible," she finally said. Broots spoke up, "I can get you booked on a commercial carrier, no problem. But do you have any idea of where you'll want to stay?" "Well," she replied, concentrating. "If a cleanup squad is there now, they'll be staying downtown. Probably the Hyatt or the Marriott. I'll need to go somewhere unexpected; out-of-the-way, but easy to find." She pondered a moment. "See about Coronado." "All right Miss Parker," Broots assured her. "I'll take care of all of it and call you at home with the details." She gave Broots a penetrating glance, realizing for the first time that he really did care about this whole Jarod mess. "Miss Parker," Sydney broke in, "Be careful when you talk to Jarod. I think you know he's not used to this sort of thing. No one can predict how he'll deal with it. It could be catastrophic for him." "His *feelings* aren't my primary concern, Syd," she said, sounding more convincing than she felt. "If he's captured, there'll be serious consequences for *all* of us." He frowned angrily at her response, ready to jump to Jarod's defense. Instead, he remained silent, thinking better of it,. "I'll wait for your call Broots," she said, deliberately overlooking Sydney's reaction. "Make it quick." The two men watched as she departed the room with determined strides. "Well, you'd better get going Mr. Broots," Sydney said quietly, trying to contain his uneasiness. It was out of his hands for now. ********* Evening - Back at Miss Parker's apartment She had barely walked through the door when the phone rang. That was quick Broots, she thought, picking up the receiver. "Go ahead Broots." "It's me," the hollow sound of Jarod's voice startled her for a moment. "Oh." "I've had a problem develop here..." his words trailed off. It must have happened she thought. She'd never heard that tone from him before. "Look," she interrupted, before he could go on. "I'm coming down there Jarod. I have the information you wanted and some other things too. Please don't do anything before..." He broke in before she could finish. "She's dead," he said abruptly, voice cracking. "My contact is *dead*." Miss Parker closed her eyes at the pain she heard in his voice. This was what she had been afraid of. Now, it was going to take very careful handling to prevent him from destroying them all. She felt fairly certain that he was still unaware of the Centre's involvement, and when he found out, it would make things infinitely worse. "Jarod, listen to me. I'm sorry about the girl," her words came quickly. "But I'm on my way down there, and I should arrive by tomorrow." She listened to the silence at the other end, knowing he was trying to analyze the situation. She hoped that his emotional state would keep him from drawing any conclusions and prayed that he wouldn't start pumping her for answers. "Why don't you seem surprised by this?" he asked slowly. "Jarod," she replied, ignoring the question and keeping her voice firm, "What I need now is for you to wait. Find a safe place and stay put. Promise me you won't do anything until I get there." "All right," she heard him give in, the tremor in his voice touching her in a way she'd never thought possible. "Meet me in Coronado tomorrow. Late afternoon. On the beach by the rocks at the Hotel del," she spoke deliberately, hoping he was getting it. "Fine. Tomorrow," he replied wearily, hanging up without another word. She looked at the handset for a moment before setting it down. Almost immediately, the phone rang again. This time it was Broots. "I have you booked on a 10 p.m. on United out of BWI, Miss Parker. And you have a reservation at that place you mentioned for the next four days. I didn't know how long you'd need." "That's fine, thank you Broots," she responded. "Now put Syd on please." She waited impatiently, until she heard the familiar voice come on the line. "Hello Miss Parker." "Ok, Syd. I just heard from him. It's happening already." She heard his sharp intake of breath. "Don't worry, I've handled it so far, but he really doesn't understand the big picture yet, and from what I've heard, he won't be taking it well when he does. It's already worse than you can imagine." Back in the tech room at the Centre, Sydney clutched the phone and tried to contain his anxiety. He wasn't so sure that Miss Parker was the best person to deal with Jarod and what he must be going through. If the situation wasn't carefully controlled, it could lead to very serious problems for all of them. "Maybe I should go with you," he began, "After all..." "No Syd," she broke in. "I'm going to need your considerable persuasive skills to explain my absence to Mr. Lyle. Tell him I'm taking a few days away, you don't know where. Tell him you suspect I'm trying to locate my father. *Anything* to keep from spooking them in San Diego." "Very well," he said, resigned. "But please try to be careful. Jarod's going to need some understanding." "He'll need a lot more than that," she returned. "I'll try to find a way to call you once I make contact. Maybe then *you* can speak to him." She hung up quickly without waiting for his response and headed for the bedroom to pack. ********* Late afternoon, the following day - Coronado Island, San Diego CA Miss Parker stood at the window of her hotel room and felt the cool, salty ocean air caress her face. She peered carefully through her binoculars down to the beach below. The sun was beginning its descent, and the beach was crowded with island residents and tourists enjoying the last moments of the day before dusk set in. She frowned for a moment, thinking it was odd to watch the sun setting into the ocean, rather than rising from it, as it did in Blue Cove. To her left, she could see the sparkling sand of the Silver Strand stretching off into the distance, while on the right, she could hear the thrum of helicopters from the naval-air station. Suddenly she noticed a man walking toward the large rocks that sheltered the hotel beach from the ocean, instantly recognizing the familiar stride. Jarod. She exhaled slowly as uneasiness dawned in her gut. It was time to confront the inevitable. Dropping the binoculars on the bed, she grabbed a navy cotton sweater to pull over the sleeveless tank she wore. She slid on a pair of sneakers, frowning at the feel on her feet. The short skirt she could get away with, but unfortunately, sand wasn't conducive to heels. She left her room and headed for the shore. ********* Jarod turned from the spectacular view and noticed her approach. Though there were a lot of people scattered about the beach, the rocky area where he stood was relatively deserted. He waited for the familiar excitement to touch him as she neared, but a horrible numbness inside of him prevented it. "Hello Jarod," she said softly, stopping before him. "Miss Parker," he replied. She could see the glassy look in his dark eyes. At least he was making some effort to remove himself from the pain. Too bad it wouldn't last much longer. "Are you here by yourself, or did you bring an escort?" he asked. "It's just me," she replied. "I had a tail in Blue Cove but I lost them at the airport. Sweepers are so predictable." He looked at her in silence before directing his gaze back to the ocean. She watched him carefully. Even in the depths of despair, he remained devastatingly attractive. She longed to reach up and smooth the tension from his forehead, to run her fingers through his hair... Blinking suddenly, she suppressed the impulse. Comforting men was not something she had been called upon to do very often, and these feelings were somewhat of a surprise. Unfortunately, she knew there was too much at stake now to waste time with that type of activity. Damage control was what she needed to focus on. "What happened?" she finally asked. He looked down, bowing his shoulders slightly, kicking at the sand. "I found my informant yesterday." "And...?" "She missed a meeting that we set up for the beginning of the week. I figured she just forgot, she's not always that reliable," he explained. "But after 48 hours, I went looking. I finally found her at her in some squat she used to hang out at." "An overdose?" "Uh-huh," his voice was raw. She took a deep breath, "Don't blame yourself Jarod. It would have happened sooner or later." His head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?" Miss Parker stared at him, realizing that she had momentarily lost her nerve. Covering, she said, "Don't you remember that conversation we had about drugs and drug addicts? I told you then that junkies don't usually have high life expectancies." She forced herself to remain impassive. "How can you be so cold about this ?" he shot back. "You didn't know her. I told you she was different. Doesn't it bother you at all that a young girl is dead?" "No," she replied evenly. "But it hurts you and *that* affects me." He shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe this." "Jarod, when are you going to understand that a lot of society's problems can't just be 'fixed' by one of your little stings? For Christ's sake...I know you were isolated for 36 years but you've been out in the real world long enough to get a clue. *Every* little lost soul out there is NOT your responsibility!" she stopped suddenly. Falling into a tirade was not going to help her situation. He was looking at her now with hostility and not a little suspicion in his eyes. "Why am I not surprised that this is the position you would take?" "Get real Jarod," she ground out. "*I'm* not the problem here. You got involved in all of this to help a dead man's family. But somewhere along the way, you were diverted by the association with this woman. You probably thought she would be just like that junkie you helped out in Spokane." He looked at her in surprise. "Uh-huh," she continued. "I know all about that little family reunion you orchestrated when you were doing that high-wire act. What you don't realize, and what I've tried to explain to you, is that the woman in Washington was much more the exception than the rule," she paused for a moment. "You should have known that from your experience in Baltimore anyway." "No, this wasn't the same," he interrupted. "Molly was only sixteen and she wasn't dead yet. Hell, she had her whole life ahead of her." "She was a *heroin addict* Jarod," Parker contradicted ruthlessly. "And probably into other things you don't even want to think about. You thought you could save her? Just who do you think you are? God?" "Wait," he ordered, rage beginning to boil to the surface. "I *knew* this girl. Stop implying that she was just like any other poster child for wasted youth!" Miss Parker felt the last vestiges of her patience slipping away. "She *was* Jarod! You think you understand?? You don't understand *anything*!" Her temper finally snapped as she went on. "*She* was the one who set that DEA agent up to get shot! *She* was the one who lured you into a false sense of concern...so that you'd be distracted! The Centre organized this, for god's sake. It was a trap from the very beginning, and you walked right into it. At one point, she was even ready to lead you to them, but you came to see me instead." She watched the myriad of emotions that suddenly passed through his expression -- rage, frustration, hurt, denial. "You're lying." "Am I?" Anger was driving her now. "You want to come up to my room and read the memos that Broots hacked out of the database in Blue Cove? I'm telling you, it was a set-up from the word go." "Then why did she die?" he asked, pain seeping into his voice. She forced herself to ignore it as she regained dominance over her feelings. "I don't know Jarod," she lied, quietly now. He looked at her sharply. "Don't even think about it," he said, capturing her upper arm in a painful grip. "I want to know *everything*." "Fine," she yielded. "Molly was going to come clean. She was going to tell you about the whole thing. I guess you have that effect on people." She paused, looking down at his hand on her arm, then back up to his eyes. "Let go Jarod. Right now." He released her arm, but not her gaze. "Brigitte's people discovered what she was up to and they were ordered to take her out before the operation could be compromised." He looked at her for another moment, trying to focus through his wrath. Failing, he spun around and stalked to the water's edge, wanting to shield her from the overwhelming feelings that gripped him. It wasn't her fault, he tried to convince himself. She was only relaying the information. In his heart though, he didn't really accept that. He knew how the Centre ruined countless lives. And by her own choice, she was still a part of it. It didn't matter what her motivations were; she still contributed to their schemes. And it also didn't matter that her actions no longer affected him directly; there were other human beings to be considered. Like Molly. Well, she owed him one now, to his way of thinking. And he was going to collect. Miss Parker watched him warily as he returned to where she was standing. "I want you to tell me everything you know about this exercise," he began, voice shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "What possible purpose would that serve?" she asked quietly, carefully. "I'm going to nail those bastards to the wall. I'll kill them if I have to." This was exactly what she had been afraid of. "Jarod" she said, in her coldest, most controlled voice. "The best thing for you to do now is to walk away. Get as far as you can from this place and lay low for a while." "Right." He didn't bother to disguise his contempt. "Run away. Like I've been running ever since I left the Centre." "It's not about running away Jarod. It's about survival." "Yeah, well you'd know about that right?" he asked, becoming derisive. "That's all you've done for the last ten months. Lay low," he paused, only to continue severely, "You're such a coward; your mother had ten times the courage that you do." She clenched her teeth at the outrage his words inspired. Reaching down within herself, she drew on the last remaining dregs of her control. "Stop it Jarod," she ordered. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the people who care about you. Your family, Sydney, Broots..." she trailed off. "If you go off on some suicidal revenge mission, odds are you'll take some of them down with you." He smiled mockingly, shaking his head. "I notice that you didn't include yourself on that list. Daddy sure did train you well didn't he? Always hide your primary objective behind something more worthwhile. He's been gone for almost a year and you're still mired in the image he created for you." He watched the naked shock and anger that spread through her features. For a moment, he felt relief that she wasn't armed. The expression on her face would have cowed a hundred lesser men, but he stood his ground. He was in pain, not wanting to accept the role that fate had now dealt him, and he wanted her to be hurting just as much. She squared her jaw and raised her chin, eyes glittering in icy rage. "It must be so comforting to see the world in such black and white terms, Jarod," she hissed, shaking her head. "To you, there's good and there's bad, right and wrong, and you're going to right the wrongs. And, of course, you're completely capable of judging these things for yourself. Everything connected with the Centre, including me, is bad. Every victim of society's shortcomings is good. Well I have a little news flash for you -- it doesn't always work that way." She paused for breath. "You think you're beyond reproach? That no one can question your actions now that you've found the 'truth'? What a joke," she said disparagingly. He pressed his lips closed in a thin line, refusing to rise to the bait. "That's right Jarod," she continued cruelly. "Don't say anything, just listen for a moment." She knew she should stop; that he didn't ever need to know the things she was aware of, but somehow she couldn't. His accusations had drawn blood, and she was determined to make him pay for it. " Remember the 'talk' we had in Florida during that hurricane? I asked about all those people you destroy. Do you really think the primary goal throughout their lives was hurting others? Or were they just weaker than the average person?" He closed his eyes, turning his back to her. "Oh yes," she went on, "You can't answer because you never get to see the fallout from your little operations. Well, let me enlighten you a bit." "That Park Ranger you set up in Oregon? I'll bet you didn't know he had a family, did you? How do you think his wife feels, on her own, having to explain to her kids where daddy is now?" Jarod heard the bitterness in her voice and tried to convince himself that she was lying, out of spite. While it was true that he didn't often think about the people he brought to justice, he had just assumed that it wasn't necessary. After all, they had committed criminal and immoral acts and deserved to pay for them. They had ruined people's lives. He didn't want to even consider that his actions might have the same result, albeit for different reasons. But there was no escape for him as she went on brutally, "Or that news reporter in Seattle. The one who got the cameraman in trouble? Remember?" She gave a short, bitter laugh, stepping closer to him. "He killed himself in prison." The words were like a blow, and Jarod suddenly sank down to sit on the rocks, burying his face in his hands. She lapsed into silence, looking down at him. Something in his reaction caused her anger and resentment to suddenly bleed away. After a moment, she spoke again. "Don't you see Jarod?" she asked, gently now. "Life isn't as black and white as you'd like to think. Most of it's a gray area. You do what you can to make your life work, and maybe that of the people who are closest to you. And it doesn't matter what the motivation is, there's consequences to every action we take." "If it's any consolation, a very small part of me has always admired you for leaving. For spending your hard-fought freedom fighting for other people. But I have to admit that for the most part, I always thought it was kind of naive. Sometimes you have to accept the ugly realities of this society if you expect to remain a part of it." Miss Parker slowly moved to stand before him. "I'll tell you something else Jarod. My biggest dream *has* always been to get the hell away from the Centre and head for the most deserted tropical island I could find. Then I could live out the rest of my days without having to worry about anything more serious than the brand of rum I wanted to drink. That's my solution. Yours is different, but you'll still have to make peace with yourself. He looked up at her confession, his expression unreadable. She gave up trying to explain. "You have to cut your losses on this one Jarod. They beat you this time. After almost two years, it was bound to happen at least once. Learn from the mistake and be better the next time. Think of it as Molly's gift to you." She wasn't sure where the words were coming from; it wasn't like her to talk or even think in such philosophical terms. Perhaps Sydney had sent a little piece of conscience along with her. Or maybe her mother... Jarod rose to his feet, brushing the sand off his legs. Their eyes met, but neither made a move toward the other. Miss Parker knew that it was impossible. No matter what they had shared in the past, too much of what had been said today now lie between them. "Are you going to give it up?" she asked. He nodded slowly, looking back out toward the water. "I guess I have to." "I'll understand if you want out of our deal now," she said. "No," he answered. "I'm gave you my word on that. Besides, I still need the information." "Ok, Jarod. You're still talking to Sydney regularly?" He nodded again. "Fine," she replied. "I'll have him pass along a message as soon as we have what we need. You should think about calling him soon though. He's very worried about you." "He knows about all of this? Never mind," he cut her off, "I'll contact him." "All right then. I need to be getting back." Jarod didn't reply as he turned his attention back to the water. She started to say something else, then thought better of it. Turning, she strode back across the sand to the hotel grounds. He watched as she left, hoping she would look back, at least giving him some sign that she cared about the way things were ending, but she never did. Once he lost sight of her, he sighed and sat back down on the rocks, thinking about where he would go next and watching the last rays of the sun sink into the ocean... ********* Epilogue Miss Parker sat in her office, idly watching the light reflect off of the CD she flipped between her fingers. It had come to her in the mail with no return address -- Jarod and his music. She stopped to read the front. Blind Faith. Appropriate, coming from him. One of the songs had been circled in red and she slid the disc into her PC, listening to the drift of the music. She knew it was Jarod's way of taking her back to that last moment on the beach -- his way of saying that he believed that the gulf between them was still bridgeable. That he needed her. Unfortunately, she wasn't so sure. She reminded herself for the hundredth time that she had made the right decision. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't heartbreak she felt, just a numbing sense of resignation. Then she thought of the times he had made love to her; when she had felt his soul reaching out to touch hers, and experienced a stab of regret. It seemed it just wasn't her destiny to be happy. She rose from her desk and left the office, heading down the busy corridor. Hesitating at the door to Sydney's office, she finally made up her mind to knock, entering at the sound of his voice. "Yes, Miss Parker?" he asked. "Syd, do you ever regret the things you've done to protect yourself and other people?" Her question startled him, coming as it did, with no preamble. Ever since he had detected her involvement with Jarod, he had marveled at the total lack of change in her personality. But he could sense that things were different now, after their encounter in California. She had returned in a manner he could only describe as weary; her sharp edges dulled. Sydney wished she could confide in him so that he could help her, but he doubted she would. And Jarod, for his part, had scrupulously avoided any discussion of what had happened when he made contact with him. Syd had been too thankful at his safety to probe any further, but he had noticed the change in Jarod as well. "I have many regrets Miss Parker," he began. 'The biggest of which is my ongoing refusal to give in and go back and to try and mend the hurt I've caused." She looked at him, considering his words. "Have you talked to Jarod lately?" she asked, finally. He nodded. "Well, when he calls again," she paused, looking up to meet his eyes, "Please tell him I'm sorry for not looking back." "I will, Miss Parker," he replied quietly, not understanding what exactly it was she meant, but knowing it was important. "But I'm sure you'll get the chance yourself one day. Take my advice: Don't let the opportunity pass you by." She smiled sadly and turned and left the office, determined now, more than ever, to find the answers that eluded her. The End. ********* "Come down off your throne, and leave your body alone - somebody must change You are the reason I've been waiting so long - somebody holds the key Well, I'm near the end and I just ain't got the time And I'm wasted and I can't find my way home Come down on your own, and leave your body alone - somebody must change You are the reason I've been waiting all these years - somebody holds the key Well I'm near the end and I just ain't got the time And I'm wasted and I can't find my way home" - Blind Faith, "Can't Find My Way Home" from the Album "Blind Faith" Copyright 1969, PolyGram Records Additionally, the jazz LP that Miss Parker was listening to at her apartment is "Kind of Blue", recorded by Miles Davis, Copyright 1959, Columbia Records. The place where Jarod and Miss Parker meet in San Diego is the site of the Hotel del Coronado on Coronado island.