But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall so it reverence.
 

One Year Later.
 

Swish. Swish. She'd said she'd never do this. Swish. Swish. She'd madea solemn vow to herself ten months ago. Swish. Swish. And yet still thepages turned. Swish. Swish. The newspaper. Swish. Swish. Thunk. She'd spilther coffee with her violent movements, now she watched disinterestedlyas the dark stain spread rapidly across the pages, obliterating words whichmeant nothing to her.

Her scrapbook sat next to her, filled with articles she'd cut out. Eachheld a small clue, a tiny reference, which led her to believe Jarod wasinvolved. Except he didn't use that name any more. Each name, each article,held special meaning for the past they shared. "Animal Rights Rebel FreesRabbits!" was the most recent clue, the article described how a laboratoryfull of test animals had been broken into, all the white rabbits insidebeing freed, the only evidence a small business card that read 'Kyle'.Further back there was the eccentric businessman who had had "to my saddestlittle valentine" written across the sky everyday for two weeks beforeand after Valentine's day.

There was the Las Vegas bust by FBI Agent Timmy Catherine, who had ordersto strip search but refused. The flu epidemic in a small town, amazinglyall treated by one man, a certain Dr. Jacob Sydney. The small girl withleukemia who's mother died, given a 'scholarship' into an expensive clinic,the funding coming from an anonymous trust set up, titled simply 'Faith'.

He was trying to find her, she understood that now, trying to apologisefor the tricks he'd played and trying to attract her attention. Ever sincethat day in the park he had tried so hard to contact her, but she had refusedto talk to him, hoping he would find his own life and leave her to herpreparations. And two months later she had left, leaving a note for Sydneyand Broots and, as far as everyone else was concerned, disappeared of theface of the earth. And now, a year later, she was still doing what shehad done a few weeks after leaving. She was searching the papers for newson Jarod.

Miss Parker pushed the coffee-soaked newspaper aside, turning to anotherone. The pages flicked past her eyes as she searched, looking for the slightestclue. It had been weeks, and she had started to worry that Angelo had miscalculated,that the process was due to complete now instead of when he had specified.She had hoped for a few more years yet. Jarod's appearances in the papershad grown less and less lately, in accordance of the reports predictedmanifestation of behaviour.

Parker felt her eyes misting up, and angrily she brushed aside her tears,her hand in violent motion as she whipped from page to page, she had tofind him, he hadn't settled down, hadn't found his life, it was time toexplain why it was so important if it wasn't already too late she hopedit wasn't too late--

There. A personal, almost insignificant, she'd been so close to missingit. Hungrily she read it, soaking up the words ...;

Male seeking female.

Single exploited male seeks similarly
exploited brunette female. Must have IceQueen
attitude, compassion for orphaned children
and reason for sending me away.
For walks in park, apologies and explanations.
Responding personal will represent interest.

Parker smiled faintly, dragging out a small notepad and a pen, carefullywriting down ideas, wondering how to phrase it just right ...;

*****

Lo! Death has reared itself a throne ...;

Jarod, or Parker Jaimeson as he was currently known, stared out overthe city. His apartment was a penthouse, he had long since given up ondingy motel rooms and seedy one-room apartments. He was surrounded by wealth,anonymous investments proving successful, and no matter how much he gaveaway he still remained a wealthy man. He wore a Rolex, his suit was Armani,his shoes Gucci. Over the past year he had learned how to school his expressions,his face no longer showed the pain of losing her, now it carried the alooffrown of a man concerned only by money.

But he wasn't. He didn't give a damn wether he was a poor man or a richman. Armani tended to itch, the Rolex he found to be a vulgar display ofdecadence, and the only reason he got the penthouse was because it wasthe furthermost one away from the ground. Or rather, the furthermost oneaway from being underground. Namely twenty-seven levels underground.

But people took him more seriously as a rich man. It was easier to bendpeople's ear, to make them realise that not everyone was as fortunate asthey. More people were helped when he dressed up, more people began tocare about the wrongs in society. But that didn't mean he cared any morethan before. If anything, his care was slipping away from him, every failureto find Miss Parker chipping away at his compassion for others until hefeared there'd be none left.

It hadn't seemed a daunting task at first. Miss Parker was gone, hewas a genius. No problem, he'd find her in a few days. Later he amendedthat to weeks. Then months. Now he feared years. He didn't want to thinkbeyond that. It was so important to him that he discovered why she changedher mind, what was in that Manila folder that she had held to her so desperately.He needed to know what gave her so much pain, so much fear.

But if he were honest with himself, he'd admit that his reasons werea lot more selfish than that. He needed to know why she had felt it necessaryto cut him off completely from her life. Again. He'd never had the freedomwhen he was a teenager, to find out exactly why she had left for boardingschool without a word. And now she had done it again, albeit under differentcircumstances, but only now did he have the resources, the freedom, tofind out why. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Sighing, Jarod turned away from the windows, turning instead to theday's paper. With dread he picked it up, scanning through the personals,preparing himself for disappointment after this last effort to get herattention. Column after column he read, hoping for the best expecting theworst he didn't know what he'd do if she didn't respond oh please let her--

There. Jarod sat bolt upright in his chair, trying not to let himselfhope as he read ...;

Female seeking male.

Female with vital information seeks
male with need to know. Should have
caring nature, absent family and
child-like innocence. For smiles, apologies
and explanations.
 
 

Jarod's chest heaved with emotion as he stared at the ad, his shakinghand reaching to pick up the phone. Still feeling dazed, Jarod called thenewspaper, collecting the contact details of that specific personal fromthem. Taking several deep breaths Jarod dialled the number he had received,counting the rings. One, two, three, four, five.

"Hello?" her voice was tired, telling off many sleepless nights, butstill it sent chills down Jarod's spine, it had been too long since hehad heard her voice.

"Hello? Hello! Listen, creep, I am NOT in the mood for ...;" Jarod hadforgotten to answer her, but her stream of words suddenly trailed off asthe breath exploded from Jarod's chest, a breath he hadn't realised he'dbeen holding. "Jarod? Is that you?" she whispered.

'Oh Parker." Was all he could say, and felt a moment of hesitation whenhe listened to her responding silence.

"It's been a long time Jarod." She murmured, and suddenly he was angry,angry that she had left him, angry that he hadn't known weather she wasalive or dead for all these months. But most of all angry because her cooltones made it sound as if she had responded to his ad because she was sickof him trying to contact her.

"Where the hell have you been!" he growled, immediately regretting it.

"This was not the response I was expecting Jarod, perhaps this was amistake ...; " she replied, her hurt tones cutting him.

"No, wait, I'm sorry ...; it ...; it has been a long time ...;it's just...;I've missed you, can I see you?  ...;Where are you?"
 
 
 

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Part 3