by Persephone

Jarod listened to her breathing for a moment longer, then pressed the terminate button on his cell phone. The line went silent. Lowering his phone hand to rest against his mouth thoughtfully, he stared into space, rolling once more the last few minutes of the conversation in his head as a projectionist might unreel a particular length of film. Only unlike the projectionist, he had no idea where this particular piece of film would lead him.

His conversation with Miss Parker had been more subdued than most. At least, she hadn't been snapping off threats or chain-smoking, the puffs of air rasping against the phone. No, if anything, she had seemed serene. And if anything, for Miss Parker, the conversation had been amiable...verging on friendly.

Maybe it was because they shared a bond in spite of everything. In spite of themselves. In spite of the Centre. No, in spite of the Centre most of all.

They shared Faith.

Jarod's grip on the inert phone tightened as he remembered his experience on the mountain. Injured from a plane crash, slowly freezing to death, he had been ready for the first time in his life to give up. Good-bye, ice cream, Pez, and Saturday morning cartoons. But he hadn't though it had been close. Maybe he would have if not for her.

Her. Faith. Even now, it was hard for the logical portions of his brain to accept what his heart so clearly felt and understood. That somehow, some way, she had come to him and to Miss Parker, too and given them both a reason to go on. She had kept her promise and watched over them. He could recall in perfect detail her youthful face, lined with pain and the eyes, so soft and beautiful, as she lay dying in isolation, never knowing how close her family was. Never knowing that the young girl pressing a rosary into her hand was her adopted sister. Nor did that sister--Miss Parker, ever realize that her first 'girl friend' was Catherine Parker's adopted child. Maybe it hadn't mattered at the time. All that had mattered was that Faith hadn't died alone, as Miss Parker's father had thought. She had been surrounded by friendly faces, people who had taken risks to be there for her.

'No one should die alone...'

He shivered as he remembered those words. Jarod very nearly had died alone. Well, except for the wolf. And the wolf hadn't been all too pleased when help had arrived, depriving him of an easy meal. Still, the whole experience had given him a new outlook. For a second time, he realized just how precious and precarious life was. He fixed the wavery, ghostly image of Faith, her visitation or his delusion--which ever you like, in his mind. As a reminder of how lucky he was. After all, it wasn't everyone who had a guardian angel looking out for them.

Maybe two, he thought, remembering Catherine Parker. Catherine had been a warm, loving woman--the closest thing to a mother he'd had in the Centre. And they had killed her because she had wanted to rescue him and her daughter from the virtual slavery of the Centre. And the result of it had been that her daughter had been brought up as a good, if much embittered 'soldier' for the Centre, nearly destroying the bright, bossy girl who had befriended a lonely boy. Until his escape, until she had been assigned to bring him and the precious data he had stolen back to her employers, to her father.

He had been angry at first, betrayed by the change in her. When she had left the Centre all those years ago for boarding school, he had cried for several nights. Alone, except for Angelo. But Angelo wasn't much for conversation and Sydney had stepped up the 'games' as he had called the simulations to distract him. The pain at separation had lessened with time but the loneliness increased, often leading him to think of her with wistful longing. Wondering where she was, what she was doing, what friends and new experiences she was making. He had tried to 'pretend' it once but it had only left him feeling worse.

That was when he had first resolved he would one day escape the Centre. Before he even knew what the 'games' he was playing were really being used for, he had decided to leave. To find her, a girl he knew only as Miss Parker, and maybe they could go for a walk down the beach together, watch the sun come up. He had never been further than the garage of the Centre though he knew from vids what a beach looked like.

That childhood dream had been shattered the moment he had come face to face with the frigid, harsh woman assigned to return him to his cage. And he had cried inside all through their initial 'reunion,' mourned for the lost girl and for Catherine. Her unswerving dedication to the Centre and her father would have disturbed her mother, saddened her beyond comprehension. Catherine had died in vain.

Until he decided to change that. Gradually throwing the pieces of the puzzle of her mother's death out to her, knowing that she'd never believe the truth unless she figured it out for herself. Leading her to question the Centre and the motives of her father. He had shaken her world, knowing she would not thank him for it, hoping to find some shred of the little girl who had cried on his shoulder the nights her mother and Faith had died.

This conversation gave him hope, convinced him that he was doing the right thing. That there was a spark of that little girl in Miss Parker's shell. He just had to chisel her out and not give up. For her sake and Catherine's and his.

There was a knock at the door. Jarod glanced up to find Father Moore, Catherine's priest, standing there, his kindly old face lined with concern. "Jarod? Am I disturbing you?"

"No, no. I was just lost in thought." He gave the older man an encouraging smile. "Ah," his white head bobbed, "It's a lovely day. I thought perhaps we might walk in the garden and talk over those... things you wished to speak of."

Those things. Things Catherine Parker had told the only man in the world she had truly trusted--her priest. Things about the Centre, about him, her daughter, and her husband. Secrets he hoped would help Miss Parker realize the truth. And set her free.

With a quick prayer to Faith and Catherine for luck, he rose to his feet, gesturing, "After you, Father."

~ End ~