This story runs parallel to "High Heels, Hockey Pucks and Pretenders" (#3 in my series) and is about Sydney. I got the idea after talking with Deb Stewart (a true Patrickphile) at the Andrea Parker chat about "Hockey Pucks." When I mentioned that Sydney appears with Miss Parker there in Chicago, she suggested that I elaborate on the mention of his rendezvous with a woman from the past. The concept intrigued me enough to add a sixth story to the original five-part serial fic. Many thanks to Deb for her assistance in helping me preserve the continuity of the story. Although it hasn't been permanently established, the name 'Dr. Greene' is used throughout. Go ahead and try writing meaningful dialogue with a first name only!! The character of Ellen Moreau is my own creation and should not be mistaken for any person real or imagined, or as part of NBC's "The Pretender." R rating 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. "Queen of the Night" Swikstr "Behold me, I am broken hearted..." -- The Queen of the Night W.A. Mozart, "The Magic Flute" The United Center -- Chicago, Illinois Sydney closed his eyes and tried to block out the deafening roar of the crowd around him. He was beginning to wonder why he had ever let Miss Parker talk him into coming along on this excursion. Seeing Jarod was the only thing that was making this nightmare of sound and fury worthwhile. Hockey, he thought. Leave it to Jarod to take a liking to such a dangerous and chaotic sport. Sydney opened his eyes and looked down at the swarm of players that had just emerged onto the ice. It took but a second to pick out his pretender; suited up in full goaltending regalia. He noted the name "Espo" on the back of the jersey with the number 8, and smiled in recognition. Miss Parker was on her feet next to him, adding her voice to the those of the other fans cheering for their team. He saw that she seemed to be enjoying this immensely, and speculated again on what exactly was going on between her and Jarod. Sydney knew it must be something of significance for her to disobey Centre orders and take this detour to Chicago to meet with Jarod. Lyle would be moved to homicidal tendencies if he found out. He knew it wouldn't do any good to ask her for the reason behind her decision. The details would reveal themselves in time. He could wait. The crowed quieted in preparation for the commencement of the game, and he took the opportunity to lean over and ask her a question. "How long did you say this contest lasts?" "Three twenty-minute periods Syd," Miss Parker replied. "Think you can last that long?" "It may take some doing," he answered dryly. "Well, don't worry," she parried. "There might be a really good fight that'll keep you interested. You can analyze why anyone in their right mind would put twelve testosterone-drenched males onto a slippery surface and encourage them to swing around big sticks." She laughed out loud suddenly, and he realized it had to be in response to the facial expression that her words elicited.... ********* The game seemed to drag on and on. Sydney had long ago lost interest in observing Jarod's net-minding skills, and instead used the time to mull over the personal nature of his trip to Chicago. He had almost hung up on the secretary who'd answered the phone at the scholastic academy that morning. Deciding to go through with it anyway, he'd left a message. He wondered if she would respond, or even remember who he was. Sydney hadn't seen her since she walked out of the Centre and his life nearly three decades ago. Of course, SIS kept tabs on people such as she, and he had availed himself of that information over the years. She had been in Chicago for some time now. Letting the noise around him fade, his thoughts drifted back to a memory from a long time past... <> A sudden commotion disturbed him, and he realized that the crowd around him was surging to its feet; the multitude of voices rising to a fever pitch. Sydney glanced at Miss Parker for an instant, then he stood and followed her gaze to the ice. A player from the opposing team was headed straight for Jarod and the net. He tensed, in spite of himself, and watched as Jarod went down and blocked the shot. The other player regained control of the puck, but as Sydney observed Jarod's movements, he knew the outcome was never really in doubt. He couldn't help feeling a rush of pride as his pretender deflected the next shot to a teammate, who proceeded to take it back up the ice and score. As the air horn blasted throughout the stadium, Sydney realized that Jarod had won the game for his team. He felt satisfaction and not a little relief now that the contest was finally over. "Come on Syd," he heard Miss Parker say, somewhat breathlessly. "We've got to get down there before he leaves the ice." He looked at her, noticing that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes danced with excitement. Yes, there was *definitely* something happening with her and Jarod, he thought. "What?" she asked suddenly, responding to his stare. "Nothing. We'd better go." They made their way down to the base of the stands and stood by the glass, opposite from where Jarod was standing on the ice. After a moment, he turned around and saw them. Sydney watched in amusement as Jarod's expression slowly went from recognition to shock, and finally to disbelief. He looked down as he felt Miss Parker lean over to whisper in his ear. "Ok, Syd that should do it, let's get out of here." She turned and proceeded up the stairs to the exit, stopping as he caught up with her. "I'm going down to the players' tunnel and catch up with Jarod," she looked up, meeting Sydney's eyes. "Why don't you take the car and go back the Drake? You're meeting someone, aren't you?" He was startled by the question. "How did you know?" "Oh please Sydney, you know I have my little ways. Who is she anyway?" Syd paused for a brief second. "An old...friend." She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she told him, "It's possible I won't be back tonight. If that's the case, I may have to meet you at the airport tomorrow. See to the car and bring my bag with you, all right?" "Miss Parker," he began, stopping as he saw from her expression that she was in no mood for argument. "Fine." She turned and walked quickly away, leaving him to depart the stadium alone. ********* As he walked out into the cool air toward the parking lot, Sydney looked up at the clear night sky and wondered if there would be a response to his message back at the hotel. Reaching the car, he unlocked the door and sat in the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition. As the car purred to life, he sat back and contemplated the past once again... <> ********* Sydney strode into the lobby of the hotel, forcing himself to keep a measured pace as he approached the main desk. He caught the clerk's eye. "Hello. Dr. Sydney Greene, room 811, are there any messages for me?" "Oh yes, Dr. Greene," the clerk replied, "I'm sorry, but there's nothing here for you." He felt a blow of disappointment until she continued, "There was a woman here though. She said to tell you that she would meet you at the bar." "Ah," he felt a rush of excitement. Could she really be here? "It's straight back that way, and to the left," the clerk directed him. "Thank you." He proceeded slowly to the lounge which appeared to have a pretty good crowd gathered for a Thursday evening. Stopping at the entryway, he scanned the room, looking for her. Sydney's gaze finally settled on a woman seated at one of the tables by herself. She was looking toward the doorway just then, and their eyes met. He watched as she stood slowly, a wide smile brightening her face. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, but the eyes were exactly the same. She wore a long-sleeved black dress that clung to her body, ending just below her knees. If possible, she had grown even more beautiful over the years, with an air of maturity adding to the cocksure attitude he remembered. She waited while he struggled through the crowd to where she was standing. "Ellen," he said slowly, stopping before her. "Sydney," she replied, grasping his hand. He was shocked that the contact still felt the same as it had the first time they met. "How *good* it is to see you," she went on, inhaling sharply as he raised her hand to his lips. "I wasn't sure if you would receive my message," he answered, lowering her hand but still gazing in her eyes. She smiled again. "Perhaps we should sit down?" "Of course." They lowered themselves into the chairs. "When I got the message, I thought it must be a mistake," Ellen laughed. "I mean, after all these years...I was sure you'd forgotten me." "Impossible," he replied. "But I have to admit that I thought it would be the same with you." "Not hardly," she leaned back, glancing up as a waiter approached the table. Sydney gave her a questioning look as the man paused for their order. "Another Johnnie Black on the rocks, please," she requested. The waiter looked at Sydney. "I'll have the same." "So," she resumed looking at him when the man departed, "Where should we begin? What have you been doing all this time? Are you still with the Centre? Why are you here in Chicago?" He chuckled softly. "That's quite a few questions. Where would you like me to start?" "You pick," she said, leaning forward. He caught a drift of her scent and it stirred him. It had been a long, long while since he'd spent any time with a woman in an intimate setting, and this one had once had a greater effect on him than most. "Well," he began, "I'm still with the Centre and have been all these years. Tonight, I happen to be accompanying..." he struggled before continuing, trying to think of a term to describe Miss Parker. "I'm accompanying a colleague...on a project." "A project?" she asked. "That reminds me, how is Jarod these days? I assume you kept in contact with him after his release?" Sydney paused for a moment, knowing he would have to be very careful in his reply. "Yes, we still talk rather frequently. He seems to be doing quite well." It wasn't really a lie, he thought. After all, she hadn't asked *when* or *how* exactly Jarod had left the Centre. He knew she just took it for granted that he had been released years ago, as per the original plan. "What about Jacob?" she continued, eyes darkening with sadness. "Still the same," he answered abruptly. "I go to see him regularly. There's been little change in his condition." "And Kyle?" He drew in a breath, "Kyle is dead. He was killed in a car accident." "My god," she looked at him closely, sensing the tension behind his reply. A question seemed to hover on her lips. Fortunately, the waiter arrived just then with their drinks. She rose, saying, "Well, if you'll just excuse me for a few minutes?" He nodded and watched her head toward the powder room. Thoughts of Jarod and Miss Parker intruded as he sat alone, and he wondered how *they* were faring with each other this evening. After another moment's reflection, he allowed himself to slip back into the past again... <> Sydney felt a light touch on his shoulder and he looked up to see her pause beside him. He waited while she sat back down. "So tell me more about what *you've* been up to over the years," he asked, watching as she picked up her glass to take a sip of the scotch. "Nothing exciting. I had a few different positions after I left the Centre. It was a hard time for me -- adjusting back to life in the normal world." He nodded, as if he understood. "Once I took the position at Marion Academy, I knew I had found a home. I've been there ever since." Sydney sat back and listened as she talked on about her students, colleagues, and life after the Centre. That fact that she seemed so happy pleased him, and he envied her contentment. It was something that had eluded him his entire life. Throughout all of her conversation she never mentioned a husband or even a serious companion. That fit with the absence of ring on her finger, which had been one of the first things he had covertly noticed. After a time, she shifted the discussion to professional topics and they compared notes about children, their education, and psychology. At one point, she even stressed the need for someone with his skills at her academy. He acted pleased, while at the same time putting off the suggestion. She could not know just how unthinkable it was for him to contemplate a break with the Centre at this time. So he let her go on, leaning forward with his chin propped in one hand as he listened. It was what he did best. Finally, Ellen paused, looking at him carefully before she said, "You know, you've changed a great deal from the 'Dr. Greene' I remember." He felt a twinge of discomfort. "And how is that?" "You're just different," she replied, speaking lightly, as if to reassure him. "The way you talk about the children, Jarod, other things. It's obvious you care. As I recall from the early days, you hardly gave a damn about anything besides your research." "Well, why don't you tell me what you *really* think," he said, looking at her ironically. She laughed. "Sydney, some spots you just can't change. I'll always be ready to speak my mind on just about anything." He smiled ruefully. Ellen's expression sobered. "So...tell me more about Jacob." "Well, there really isn't too much to relate," he replied. "He was in the Mount Pleasant Home for quite some time until I eventually had to move him to a new facility." "Really?" she asked. "Why?" "He came out of the coma for a brief spell about a year ago." Her eyes widened. "How?" "It was in response to a new treatment that, unfortunately, didn't last." "What happened?" she pressed him when he stopped. "Not too much really. He was unable to speak after all that time," Sydney remained guarded, searching for a way to escape from this subject. She gazed directly at him. "He told you about SL-27, didn't he?" He clamped his mouth shut, regarding her with amazement. "Yes," she said in response to his expression. "Jacob told me a lot of things...before the accident..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered. Sydney was stunned that his brother would have confided in Ellen, while leaving *him* in the dark. "Oh, don't look so surprised Syd," she said quickly. "You were always so busy, so focused on your role in the project. He didn't feel he could burden you with his concerns." "Well, I knew you two were close," he replied, with reserve. "Close?" she questioned. "Perhaps it wasn't exactly what you thought." He raised his eyebrows. "Enlighten me then." "We never slept together, if that's what you're implying," she answered quietly. "Jacob was a gentle spirit and a very good friend. I knew he loved me, but at the time, I was too focused on somebody else." Sydney stared at her in consternation. "*You* were the one I was fascinated with," she went on softly. "I don't believe this," he said, trying to make sense of her revelation. "I thought I made you angry." "Oh you did," she agreed. "But you were also the mysterious one. So aloof, so...committed to your work." Ellen hesitated, looking at him to see if he understood what she saying. "Sydney? Surely this can't be that much of a surprise. I mean, considering what happened after the accident...?" Her words transported him... <> "Sydney, are you still with me?" her voice brought him back abruptly. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss," he stammered for a moment, realizing how tense he had become. "I was thinking of that time at the hospital. I had thought you were just trying to comfort me." "Oh, of course," she smiled faintly. "Anyway, it was a long time ago." They lapsed into silence, noticing as they did that the lounge as a whole seemed more quiet. They were one of only a few couples left. "It looks as though it's about closing time," she observed. Sydney inclined his head, saying nothing. Ellen rose from her chair, somewhat shakily. He stood quickly, reaching out for her arm to steady her. "Sorry," she glanced up at him. "Three drinks is about all it takes these days to put me under." "You shouldn't be driving tonight," he began. "It's all right, I'll call a cab," she answered quickly. They were standing close together and he felt the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. Thoughts raced through his head as he offered, "If you'd like, we have a suite upstairs..." She shot him a wry look. "No, no," he paused to reassure her. "What I mean is, my associate probably won't be returning tonight. There's a whole empty bedroom up there. You could stay if you like, take your time and then leave in the morning." "I don't know," she said uncertainly. "No, I insist," his voice was firm now. "I promise, you won't be disturbed and this is much safer." Ellen finally nodded, acquiescing. He gripped her elbow and slowly led her out to the elevator.... ********* Sydney unlocked the door to the suite and gestured for Ellen to precede him. "I've never been in the Drake before," she said as they entered the sitting room. "I've been in so many hotel rooms in that past two years that it's a wonder I can tell the difference anymore," he replied without thinking. He noticed the quizzical look on her face and realized his blunder. "The Centre has me traveling a great deal," he explained, somewhat lamely. "The other bedroom is through there," he pointed, in an attempt to distract her. "I believe there's a bathroom attached. Ellen wasn't fooled and she looked at him for a long pause, finally letting it go. As she turned in the direction of the other room, he asked, "I don't suppose you'd care for a nightcap? I'll be leaving in the morning. Who knows when we'll get the opportunity again..." She gave him one of those sharp gazes he remembered so well; the kind that let him know she was already two steps ahead of his game. "That would be fine." He removed his jacket and went in search of two glasses as she disappeared into the bedroom.... ********* Ellen splashed cold water on her face, then rose to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her cheeks felt warm and her eyes held an expression of...what?" She wasn't sure. She contemplated the evening's conversation, and understood that they had barely scratched the surface of all that had once lain buried between them. And she also knew, with her usual uncanny intuition, that there was a great deal he *hadn't* said. For that reason alone, she was determined to keep a careful rein on her feelings. Ellen had a particular rule against being intimate with men she didn't completely trust, and Sydney was definitely still *out there*, no matter how strongly she was attracted to him. It was amazing how little effect time had on some things. Drying her hands and face, she blew out her breath and stepped into the bedroom. Just as she was heading for the door, she stopped at the dresser for a moment, noting the open satchel. From the contents, she could see that the room's occupant was a woman. Thinking back, she realized that Sydney had never mentioned anything about his companion. She noticed a three-fold picture frame had been removed from the bag to sit upon the dresser, and she picked it up to stare at the photos. The first was of Catherine Parker, holding a little girl. Even after almost 30 years, Ellen could still remember Catherine as if she had just seen her the day before. A remarkable spirit. And that must be her daughter she was with. Ellen had seen her at the Centre in passing, but had very little contact with the girl. Her eyes moved to the next picture, widening. The man was obviously an older version of Mr. Parker. His was another likeness that she wouldn't ever forget. But the woman next to him looked exactly like Catherine in the previous snapshot. Surely that must be the daughter, grown up. She was smiling but her manner seemed nothing like her mother's. The smile did not reach her eyes, which seemed harder and somehow insecure, as though she was unsure how to act while standing next to her father. Frowning, she looked at the final photo. It actually seemed to be a video still of two men standing in what looked like one of the old sim labs from the early days of the Pretender project. She recognized Sydney immediately, and knew that the shot had to have been taken recently. The other man appeared to be in his early thirties, with black hair and warm, dark eyes that were shockingly familiar. Ellen gasped, realizing that it was Jarod she was looking at. It couldn't be possible, she thought. He had to have been released years ago, on his eighteenth birthday, as per the original plan. That's what Sydney had said that very evening, wasn't it? She shook her head, suddenly aware that Syd had told her nothing of the sort. An ugly awareness began to dawn on her.... ********* Sydney looked up in surprise when she exploded into the sitting room. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to explain this?" her tone was laced with furious outrage as she held out the picture to him. He recognized himself and Jarod, cursing himself mentally for not guessing that Miss Parker might be carrying around such a keepsake. "It's Jarod, isn't it?" she demanded, rushing on before he could respond, "I thought you told me he was *out*, that you still spoke with him frequently?" He met her fierce gaze head-on. "Jarod *is* out, and I *do* speak with him frequently. He escaped almost two years ago from the Centre," he continued before she could interrupt. "'Escaped'?" she asked sharply, "Like as in 'from prison'?" "I prefer not to think of it that way," he answered quietly, trying to inject some calm into the situation. Her tone and demeanor were exactly the same as he remembered from the ill-fated meeting in his office, all those years ago. "I'm sure you don't," she said bitterly. "So the Centre kept him around for how many years? Thirty-one? Thirty-two?" "Actually, he was thirty-seven when he...left." "Thirty-seven," she repeated, incredulously. "You got him when...? When he was four? That adds up to thirty-three years of exploitation by you people. God, I feel sick to my stomach." "Ellen," he began, rising to move toward her, wanting to explain. "No, no," she said, backing away. "I can barely look at you where you are." He stopped moving but continued to stare at her. "What about Kyle? And Angelo?" she demanded, in a voice thick with the force of her feelings. "I told you, Kyle is dead. Angelo is still at the Centre." "Oh, that's right," she returned, "You said Kyle was killed in a car accident. The same type of *accident* that put poor Jacob in a coma?" He winced at her words, sensing that she was deriving satisfaction from wounding him. "You know," she went on. "I told you downstairs that I thought you'd changed. I see now how wrong I was. What really hurts is knowing how much Jarod loved you, looked up to you, how much he gave you. And what did he get in return? Nothing. Even I recall your total lack of feeling in your relationship with him. To think he had to put up with over thirty years of that..." she stopped, a faraway look on her face. Sydney didn't answer. He merely stood, waiting to see what else she would come up with, determined to take it. With a sudden flash of understanding, he knew that he deserved it all, and then some, for exactly the reasons that had spurred her to such outrage. "Yes, I remember how cold you were Sydney. To Jarod, to the other children, to me...even to Jacob. All in the name of your precious 'research'. How does it feel to live without a soul? Without a conscience?" "No, don't even bother trying to answer," she spat, as he opened his mouth to speak. "I assume that being locked up in that ivory tower you call the Centre has allowed you to justify the exploitation of other human beings. Back then, I thought Jacob's accident would be your wake-up call. I see now that that particular tragedy was wasted on you as well." "Ellen," he tried again, "It isn't at all what you think. Not anymore, at least." "Oh, it isn't?" she met his eyes one last time before continuing harshly, "*Nothing* you could say now would convince me. You and the Centre are *perfect* for each other." Her voice finally broke and tears began to slide down her cheeks. "I wish, with every last fiber of my being, that you never contacted me, that I didn't come down here to see you. I should have known better. In the two short years I was there, the Centre stole so much of my emotional lifeblood that it took me years to get it back. After all the time you've spent there, I should've guessed that you wouldn't have any left. Damn you for fooling me into thinking otherwise." Before he could answer, she whirled and flew into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Sydney stood there forlornly for a few moments, frozen in her angry wake. Finally, he shook his head, collected the bottle of scotch and a glass, and headed to his own room.... ********* He sat in the dim light of the bedroom, oblivious to the drift of classical music that issued from the stereo. There would be no sleep for him tonight. Sydney had always refused to dwell on his past; the agonies of his and Jacob's childhood, the obsession that drove him in his work for the Centre back in the early days, his behavior toward Jarod in the last two years... Now, the words that Ellen had hurled at him that evening played in his head mercilessly; like a broken record. <<"How does it feel to live without a soul? Without a conscience?">> These along with the other things she had said ripped a hole in the armor that he had so painstakingly constructed for himself. Armor that until recently, he had thought impenetrable. Remembrances of his past assaulted him with a fury that he was entirely unprepared for. He thought of his early upbringing; first in the German medical compound where his Belgian father had worked during the second World War as a doctor in the revolutionary field of genetic research. His father's ambition and obsessive dedication to research had left him blind to the German regime's excesses, and his mother had not had the strength to object. She had been ill for as long as Sydney could remember, and died when he and Jacob had been very young. Later, after the war, his father had fled with the boys to the United States, where an old contact put him in touch with a fledgling think tank known only as 'The Centre'. It became their new home. His and Jacob's lives had turned into an endless succession of experiments and tests based on their nature as identical twins. And all of this occurred against the backdrop of their father's constant emphasis on education, ambition and the undisputed supremacy of scientific pursuit. Sydney honestly could not remember any warmth or affection from his father. For that reason alone, he had come to love his brother more than anything in the world. He and Jacob had depended on each other for stability and emotional strength in the confusing and sometimes cruel environment that they found themselves in. For Sydney though, that hadn't been enough. Like all children, he craved his parents' acceptance and approval. But his mother was gone and his father's daily dosage of indifference became a bitter medicine. Now, looking back, he could easily trace the development of his obsessive need to learn, to work, to study and to scorn any and all personal contacts with those around him. By the time he reached adulthood, the Centre had become both powerful and ruthless enough to obtain whatever it needed in the name of research. The Tower had offered him the opportunity to pursue his goals, and he jumped at the chance. Jacob had as well, but for some reason ambition had never gripped him in the same way it had Sydney. Ellen's arrival had challenged his beliefs. He suspected that her concern for the welfare of the Centre's children and her bravery in the face of adversity from the Tower had probably spurred Jacob to reexamine his role at the Centre. And she had affected Sydney in the same way, if only on a subconscious level. Then the changes came. Jacob had left him in one horrifying instant that night when the car flipped over the embankment. And Ellen's departure came a mere three months later, after a tireless campaign by Raines to end the education phase of the Pretender project. In reality, she had left him before that; on the night when he'd lost control and kissed her at the hospital. Afterwards, she'd made every effort not to see or speak with him at the Centre, even going so far as to leave without saying good-bye. He realized now that the multiple traumas of Jacob's coma, Ellen's leaving, and later, Catherine Parker's murder, had caused him to relent in his emotionless, driven ways. And of course there had always been Jarod. Sydney thought again of Ellen's words tonight. <<"What hurts is knowing how much Jarod loved you, looked up to you, how much he gave you...">> She was right, of course. Jarod's surprise and delight in life, even within the cold, drab surroundings of the Centre, had made Sydney feel human again. And Jarod, for his part, had shared his affection and regard for his mentor openly and honestly. Unfortunately, the dual burdens of fear and responsibility had kept Sydney from reciprocating, even though he had grown to love Jarod as if he were his own child. And then Jarod escaped. When that happened, Sydney began to realize just how dependent he had become on the relationship with his pretender. At first, his selfish desire to have Jarod back and the status quo restored caused him to pursue Jarod's recapture with a zealousness bordering on Miss Parker's. But Jarod had flourished on the outside, and Sydney became convinced that returning to the Centre would be the death of his pretender. He began to think it might be time to learn how to make his own way in the world after all these years. It was the Centre version of 'empty nest syndrome'. He would have found it funny if it hadn't been so pathetic. He thought of Ellen now, in the other room, and wished he could explain these things to her. Unfortunately, she had made it very clear that his reasonings would not be welcome. Besides, tomorrow she would go on with her own life as he would with his, and they would probably never see each other again. While it was probably a relief for her, the prospect depressed him more than anything. Little did he know that his musings couldn't be farther from the truth.... ********* A sudden, unexpected knock at the door startled him. Looking at his watch, Sydney realized that it was close to three-thirty in the morning. He had been sitting, contemplating the sad story of his life for over an hour. He rose, setting his glass down and opened the door. Ellen stood there looking down, arms crossed, dressed in one of the dark blue hotel robes. Her hair was damp and tousled and she ran her hand through it as she looked up to meet his eyes. "I came to say I'm sorry Sydney," she began, looking up. "I realize I had no right to judge you, or to speak to you in such a manner." She indicated her wet hair, "That's the effect a cold shower can have on you at three a.m. Forces you to examine your thinking." He said nothing, happy beyond words that she was even there, saying these things. At the same time, his pulse quickened as he lost himself in the torrents of her blue eyes. "May I come in?" "Please," he found his voice, gesturing for her to enter and sit down. She stopped and cocked her head, listening to his music for a moment. "Bach?" He nodded. "Of course. The Brandenburg Concertos were always your favorite. I never could quite convert you or Jacob over to Mozart." "Actually, I do listen to Mozart's operas quite a bit now. 'The Magic Flute' is one of my favorites." He stared at her as she sat down in one of the chairs. She looked so beautiful in the dusky glow of the lamplight that it momentarily took his breath away. "Jarod loved that piece of music," she said, snapping him back to attention. "You know," he began, fighting to keep a rein on his desire, "*I* never objected to you playing that for him. In an obscure way, I was pleased that you had given him the opportunity. But conditions at the Centre prevented me from ever saying so." She inclined her head slowly in reply, her manner slightly reserved. She seemed to be waiting for something. "It got worse after you left. After Jacob..." he trailed off quietly. She crossed her legs and the robe fell away slightly. He forced himself not to stare as the temperature in the room seemed to grow warmer. "I know," she finally let out in a soft sigh. "Jacob told me things were changing even before the accident. He had made up his mind to talk to you about his concerns...what he thought should be done. Too bad he never had the chance." "You know Catherine Parker was shot two years later for trying to rescue the children." "No," she replied, her tone one of resignation, rather than the shock he'd expected. "What about Jarod, Sydney?" She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and he found he was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying. Instead, he envisioned himself standing, drawing her to him and burying his face into the softness of her neck as he'd done all those years ago. He could still smell the scent of her hair... "Sydney?" she asked again, raising an eyebrow. "What? Oh, yes," he said, forcing himself to pay attention. He noticed she was gripping the arms of the chair tightly and wondered if it was in response to the sexual tension that weighted the air. "Jarod's been out for nearly two years. I'm happy to say that he's been able to adapt remarkably well to the real world." "That doesn't surprise me. He was an extraordinary little boy. They want him back at the Centre, don't they?" she asked, the harsh note returning to her voice. "Yes. And for a while I did too. They actually assigned Catherine's daughter to bring him in. It was my job to assist." "And?" she leaned forward slightly. His eyes dropped to the shadowy valley between her breasts, and he felt his breathing quicken. Drawing on his inner control, he straightened and met her eyes, replying, "Unfortunately for the Centre, Miss Parker no longer really has the desire to bring Jarod back. She knows, as I do now, that it would destroy him. And I believe her feelings for him will prevent her from allowing that to happen." "What about you, Sydney?" she asked, shifting slightly in the chair so that more of her legs were exposed. He began to get the idea that she was communicating with him in more than just words. Taking a deep breath he said, "I want Jarod to be happy. That implies a life far away from the Centre. The problem is that the powers there will be satisfied only when he's either returned or dead. These days, the latter seems to have become a more attractive option to them." "I'll do anything to protect him," he continued, "And Miss Parker for that matter. After Catherine died under my care, a part of me felt that her daughter had become my responsibility as well." She continued to listen, and he wondered what she thought about all this. "Believe it or not," he asserted, "I understand perfectly what my relationship with Jarod has done for me. I only wish I could make him aware of how I feel." "Why don't you?" she asked slowly, standing and gripping her upper arms with her hands. She seemed uncertain about something. He tried to read the mixed signals she was sending. From the moment she had walked into the room, her whole attitude had been one of suggestion. But she seemed to be holding herself in check, as though waiting for some puzzle to be solved. "Because I'm afraid of what it might mean if the Centre ever realized that they could use me against him," he finally answered, looking up at her. "I need to stay there so I can help Jarod from the inside, and I won't leave until I know that he and Miss Parker are completely safe. But there is a risk that they can get to Jarod through me. The last couple of years haven't been easy." "No, I suppose not," Ellen said softly. "But Sydney, I think you need to consider the possibility that Jarod is capable of making his own choices. Knowing you as I do, I suspect that you've already done so. Are you sure it's not just that you're afraid of opening up? Of letting him inside?" He wouldn't, couldn't answer the question. She paused, and then decided not to push it. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry I misjudged you. That seems to have been the hallmark of our relationship. Or perhaps it's just that the Centre has us all trapped in its ill wind." She lifted her chin and looked directly at him. He realized in that instant that she had made up her mind about something. Standing, he stepped toward her. "The Centre reminds me of Mozart's Queen of the Night," she continued, as he approached, "She did everything she could to obtain the Shield of the Sun so that she would be all-powerful. In the end, it destroyed her. I only hope the metaphor continues to a similar conclusion for the Centre." Sydney stopped, mere inches separating them now. With an unexpected fit of nerves, she moved to the stereo where the third of Bach's Brandenburg Concertos was now playing. "You know, for the last three decades, whenever I heard this piece, I thought of you," she said, tipping the volume up just a touch. He sensed her agitation as she turned to look up into his eyes. "Ellen," he drew he name out slowly, hearing the need that pulsed in his own voice. It became quiet for a moment as the middle movement of the concerto drew to a close. She inhaled, mouth parting slightly as if to speak again, and he raised his hand to place his fingers over her lips. "Don't say anything." She kissed the tip of his index finger, drawing it into the moist warmth of her mouth. Sydney drew in his breath in a long slow hiss as the heat of their interlocking gaze seemed to draw him in, their surroundings fading into insignificance. "Kiss me," she ordered suddenly, all anxiety gone, just as he heard the beginning notes of the final allegro burst forth. He slid his hands into her hair, pulling her forward to meet his lips. Ellen's hands drifted under his shirt, up the length of his back as he kissed her deeply, passionately. Coherent thought fled him as all he could concentrate on was the rising crescendo of the music and the feel of her tongue against his. He moved his hands down the curve of her neck, pushing the robe off of her shoulders. In that instant, both understood that they had finally reached the destination they had been traveling toward for a long, long time. Sydney lifted her slight form into his arms and carried her toward the bed. He kissed her again, slowly, erotically. She moaned softly then and he looked at her. Her skin was flushed, breath coming faster between her lips and her eyes were bright with passion when she opened them to meet his. His hands roved over the curves of her body, tracing the angle of her waist and the flare of her hip. Sydney could hear her breath coming in short gasps, and she finally gripped his wrist, forcing him to pause for a moment. "Please," she said, in a voice heavy with longing. The concerto ended but neither noticed as the room filled with the sound of another kind of music. It had begun once with a meeting nearly three decades ago, and now had finally reached a stunning, heartrending conclusion.... ********* Epilogue O'Hare Airport -- Chicago, Illinois Miss Parker sat at the departures gate, idly watching the planes taxi around outside, her thoughts back in a condominium on Lake Shore drive. She did not notice when he approached. "Good morning," he said quietly, not wishing to startle her. She turned her head and looked up at him. "You look tired Syd. Not much sleep last night?" "None actually," he replied. "I could say the same for you, I think." "Right," she said mockingly, "There's nothing like a night of cheap, meaningless sex to brighten the spirit, huh?" "You make your point as delicately as ever Miss Parker." He sat down next to her, becoming silent. "Jarod sends you his regards," she went on after a moment. "He says to look for a big story to come out of the Kansas City sports scene in a few weeks. He's working on something there." He felt the weight of her glance and simply nodded his head noncommittally. "I take it your parting good-byes this morning went about as well as mine?" she asked finally. "Yes," was all he could say. He didn't think there were words enough in the English language to describe how he was feeling. Leaving Ellen after what they had shared was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his whole life. She detected the slight note of desolation in his voice immediately. "I'm sorry Syd," she said softly. Miss Parker reached down for the briefest instant to grasp his hand. Her touch came and went so fast he thought he might have imagined it. Then she spoke again, "I understand how you feel." Sydney caught her eye one last time, noticing that she looked remarkably like the way he felt. He knew that they would never again be as close to one another as they were at this moment. For now, they were partners in each other's vulnerability. Both of them looked up as the gate attendant began to call for boarding on the waiting flight. Together, they rose, collecting their things and moving toward the open jetway. It was time to move on. The end. Musical References: W. A. Mozart "The Magic Flute", Aria (No. 14), "Queen of the Night" -- from 'Amadeus, More Music From The Original Soundtrack' Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, Sir Neville Marriner Copyright 1985, The Saul Zaentz Company/Fantasy, Inc. J. S. Bach "Brandenburg Concertos", Concerto (No. 3) in G -- from 'Brandenburg Concertos Nos. 3,4, and 5' Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, Sir Neville Marriner Copyright 1972, Philips Classics Productions