Chapter 10

"I hate the morgue. It’s always so cold." Miss Parker ripped the sheet from her face and shivered. "Like anybody cares if a corpse is cold."

She sat up and jumped off the slab she was laid out on and winced at the bones still knitting. The feel of bones shifting back into place and solidifying is something that needed to be experienced first hand in order to fully understand. Adam had not described the experience adequately.

She found herself remembering the first time she’d woken up with a sheet over her face. This time though, she knew what to expect and Adam should be outside the building with a car and a change of clothes. Something more comfortable than the blood encrusted clothing she still had on, not to mention more inconspicuous. At least she still had clothing on this time.

Slipping out the door and high tailing it to an emergency exit, she was already in Adam’s car and gone by the time someone investigated the alarm. In the back seat, she stripped out of the bloody clothing and into the jeans and shirt Adam brought. Socks were put on and her boots soon followed. She didn’t get annoyed until she tried to brush out her hair. There was so much dried blood, the entire back of her head was a matted mess.

"I don’t suppose you can stop somewhere long enough for me to rinse out enough of the blood to comb this mess." She climbed over the seat and settled herself in the front.

"Becoming vain are we?" Adam’s eyes stayed on the road, but he grinned in her direction.

"I’m just glad I’m not a blond," she quipped, her hand trying to break apart some of the strands.

"I would never teach a blond." This time he smirked.

"Oh, judging on appearances, are we?" She mimicked his tone, giving as good as she got.

"I can think of much better things to do with a blond."

"I’m not even touching that one. So how did every thing go?"

"Like clock work." He sounded faintly surprised at this himself. She couldn’t blame him, it was rare that anything resembling a plan lasted beyond the first encounter with the enemy. Maybe she’d been chasing Jarod too long. He usually was about ten steps ahead of her. Nice to be on his side for a change.

"Is Samantha okay?" she asked.

"She was still out of it when I left, but Jarod called earlier, saying she was fine. The Lone Gunmen have also vacated your previous residence and are currently analyzing all the information they gathered."

"That could take a century or two" She meant it as a joke.

"You have the time," he replied in all honesty.

"Yea, I guess I do." Her voice lowered, losing its joking tone. That part of her new existence hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Adam had pulled up to a small diner, giving her the escape she was looking for.

After a trip to the bathroom so her hair looked less like she had just fallen off a twenty story building (which to be truthful, she did) and more like a normal person passing through, she joined Adam at a table. She would deal with Immortality later, right now she was surprised at just how hungry she was.

"Anything look edible?" She sat across from him in the booth, picking up a menu as she did so.

"Well, it’s not high cuisine, but look on the bright side; you don’t have to worry about your ulcers." He had a smirk on his face that just begged to be wiped off.

"I’m never going to hear the end of that am I?"

"You’re the one who mentioned them."

"In passing." She smiled back at him, falling easily into their familiar banter.

"Ah, but how else am I supposed to find out all about you."

"And why would you want to know about me?" She was surprised at the guarded look that came over his face. It wasn’t a change of expression so much as a tightening around his eyes and a stiffness in his posture. If she hadn’t spent so much time with him over the last five months, she wondered if she would have even noticed it.

"Oh just keeping an eye on my star pupil." He smiled again but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. Miss Parker played along anyway.

"I’m your only pupil." She said dryly.

"All the more reason to make sure you don’t have anything lurking in your past to come and haunt you." He buried his nose in the menu avoiding her glare.

"And my ulcers fit in this. . . How exactly?" No mere menu was going to stop her, so she reached over and pulled it down so he could feel the full effect.

"They’re a good indication of the type of person you used to be." He switched tactics, casually bringing up something that had been on his mind since he’d seen her at the Center.

"Used to be? I haven’t changed that much." She glanced over her own menu, knowing what Adam was doing, but unable and perhaps unwilling to change it.

"Everybody at the Center thought you had." She paused as he said that, her mind going over the past months, everything she’d been through and what all she had learned. And not just about the rules of the Game.

"How have I changed?" she asked, keeping her voice calm, inspite of the trepidation she felt.

"You’re more relaxed, not as tense. You’re more polite, kinder I would guess from the shocked expressions of your co-workers. I’m really glad I didn’t know you back then." His voice picked up that faintly mocking tone he like to use when he was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Funny." She said with a sarcastic bite. "I was just overworked and stressed out."

"If you say so." He went back to looking over the menu.

"I say so."

The conversation dwindled at that point as the two of them tried to decide what they wanted to eat. After placing an order with the waitress, Miss Parker fiddled with the little cream containers, stacking them up beside the plate.

"Do you have to do that?" Adam interrupted her.

"Do what?" She looked up from the stack of creamers, wondering what he was talking about.

"Fiddle." He pointed to her accomplishment on the table. "If you start stacking the glasses, I’m leaving without you."

"So what now?" She studiously kept her hands out of sight and instead fiddled with the edge of the table cloth. She just didn’t like having nothing to do with her hands and since she finally managed to quit smoking two months ago, her hands often seemed to be empty.

"Well, Micheal asked us to pick some of the files the Lone Gunmen have decoded and is expecting us at Mrs. Mulder’s in a few hours. But after that, I was thinking of doing a little traveling."

"How much longer for my training?" She led into the question casually, but hated herself as she held her breath waiting for the answer.

"You can pretty much go on your own if you want to by now. You know the basics and I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble looking after yourself." That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. She knew she didn’t really need any more training, but. . .

"What if I don’t want to."

"You need to go out on your own, you can’t hide behind me forever." He became engrossed in the dessert menu sitting beside the sugar pot.

"Who said anything about hiding."

"Pardon me?" It got his attention and he glanced up at her, his breath stolen by the look in her eyes.

"Listen, for someone as old as you claim to be, you can be as dense a chunk of lead. I want to stick around because I want to stay with you. Not as a student, but. . . maybe as something more. I want you, Adam, but not as an umbrella from the ills of Immortality."

He swallowed, hating what he felt he had to do. This was why he never took students. You were supposed to teach them and let them move on. You weren’t supposed to get involved, because inevitably, someday they came after your head. The first time he had to kill a student, he wanted to die himself.

"Miss Parker. . . Damn it, I don’t even know your first name!" He was frustrated by that little omission, more than he felt he should be.

"You never asked." She looked down at her coffee, trying to hide from what she suspected was coming, though it didn’t help.

"Listen, this can’t work. It’s normal to develop strong feelings for your mentor, but. . . " He never finished the sentence as she interrupted him, her eyes harsh as she erupted.

"Strong feelings? I don’t believe this! I am NOT some school girl with a crush on her teacher. I can damn well tell if this is a fling or something else. If you don’t feel the same way, tell me and that’s the end of it. Don’t feed me some line to break it to me gently." She looked at him, waiting for his reply, dreading his reply.

"I’m sorry, but I don’t feel about you that way," he said, feeling his chest constrict up with the lie.

"Thank you." She pushed her chair back, her earlier hunger now forgotten. "I’ll wait for you outside."

Once in the fresh air, she swiped at her eyes. At least now she knew. She made her play and was shot down. That didn’t do anything to ease the ache she felt, but it was better than letting herself be strung along. By the time Adam joined her, a bare ten minutes later, she was more herself. She put on a fake smile and had buried her heart by the time they got back to the Mulder residence.

***

Angelo sat in the basement, hunched over Jarod’s laptop. His mind was still full of the images he’d gotten from touching Micheal. There were a lot more there than he’d expected and he was having trouble sorting through them all. The basement was cool and dark, giving his mind a rest so that he had a chance to sort things out.

He’d gone up to snatch Jarod’s computer because he needed to remember something that wasn’t in his head anymore. Besides which, Jarod was too busy with his lady friend to notice it missing. He needed to spend time with her.

Angelo’s hands flitted over the little, silver DSA’s until it paused over one in particular. Flashes passed through his mind and he knew this was the one he was looking for. He slipped it in, quickly coming to the scene he wanted. He watched the screen with wide eyes.

Catherine Parker was leaning over a young boy, his body limp and his face expressionless. She gently cradled his head, looking over her shoulder, anger warring with horror at what she saw. Behind her stood a young Mr. Raines, his face as cold and hard as ice as he answered her question.

"There is no more Timmy. There is only Angelo."

***

After Mom left, I read a little but my mind was too busy for a book to hold my attention. So I got up very slowly, but was pleased to note that this time, I didn’t get any black spots and was only a little giddy when I stood up. Farmer in the Sky was placed back on Fox’s book case and I decided that finding a bathroom was a good idea.

When I walked in and glanced at the mirror, I had to stop and take a second look. I hadn’t realized just how bad I looked. My face was pretty much one bruise, with my one eye, though now open, still blue and swollen. My chin had more yellow than anything else with some black still showing along the jaw, my lip was split and I had a rough black and green line down one cheek. It was all healing, and only the bruise on my cheek was recent. But I’m surprised Mom didn’t freak when she first saw me.

Checking out other things, the scrapes on my knuckles were mostly gone, leaving pink marks to show their passing, and my arms looked as bad as my face. I didn’t even want to think about what my torso looked like. I remembered a number of well-placed kicks, not quite hard enough to break ribs or damage internal organs. That would require medical attention; no, the Center’s Sweepers knew how to make a kick hurt without causing any dangerous injury.

After taking care of my business, I figured I’d have that shower Fox promised me once I could stand without falling over. I was standing now and hot water would help all the stiff muscles I was feeling as well as ease a few aches. I needed a towel though.

It took me ten minutes to convince Fox and Jarod that I wouldn’t collapse in the shower. No, I wouldn’t have the water too hot, yes, I would get out if I started feeling light headed. Father walked in, took one look at me, with the determined look in my eye and my stance showing no give, and told them to give me a towel and leave me alone. They relented, but then Father told me that if I did collapse I could bloody well drag myself out because he wasn’t going to get sopping wet because I felt like a shower.

I retreated with grace and spent the next twenty minutes in heaven. Even if the soap stung the cut on my lip, I didn’t care because I was clean. I cut it short though when I started to get dizzy and then had to sit on the toilet for a few minutes before I could finish drying myself off. I was right about the bruising, I had some real beauties across my stomach and on my back. No wonder laughing hurt.

Climbing into some clean clothes, I started to feel human for a change. I eased a wide toothed comb through my hair and wrapped it up lightly, the wet ends too long for the towel and still dripping water down my back. Experience (I could actually say that now) had taught me that leaving it in a towel for a while was easier than trying to towel dry it. Less tangles.

Curling up back in bed, I was spent. I hated feeling like that. I’d spent all together too much time feeling like that in the last year, so I wasn’t about to give into it. But it was kinda nice to pull a blanket up over me and wrap myself up. My last conscious thought was that if I didn’t get up soon, I’d fall asleep.

***

Micheal looked in on his charge, a small smile on his lips as she sighed contentedly and shifted ever so slightly. He knew the shower would drain her and since she needed the sleep, he didn’t see any harm in it.

She was safe now. She even had some of what the Center had taken from her; not enough to make up what they’d taken though. They had stolen her childhood. A common enough story for any child unfortunate enough to end up in their hands. Micheal’s thoughts drifted to the other children the Center had destroyed. Jarod was lucky, he escaped with his mind intact. Angelo wasn’t so fortunate, but he was alive and now that he was away from the Center, they might be able to reverse some of the damage done to him. Even Miss Parker was a victim of the Center.

His eyes again focused on the figure on the bed as her face scrunched up and her body stiffened. She was no longer in the peaceful sleep of earlier and though she didn’t so much as move a muscle, her eyes darted back and forth under her scrunched lids and her hands clenched around the blanket still held in them.

He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open in response and startled gasp left her mouth. She looked up at him, terror slowly leaching from her eyes as she registered his presence.

"Father." She relaxed but still pushed herself up off the bed, absentmindedly itching at the scar that still showed on her arm.

"Yes?"

"Seems like old times, doesn’t it." She smiled at him, mischief replacing the residue of the nightmare in her eyes.

"A bit yes." A wry smile touched his lips. "But I’m not going to spar with you to vent your excess energy this time."

"What excess energy?" she asked dryly.

"There is that I suppose."

"Do you know if there’s any of that soup left?" She swung her legs out and held a hand out, waiting for him to help her up.

"Hungry already?" He reached out and taking her hand in his, pulled her up. He didn’t let go until she did; she steadied herself ever so slightly using his hand for balance before she let go.

"It’s not like I’ve eaten all that much lately." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and headed to the door.

"I think there’s still some left in the crock-pot. There’s also a casserole baking in the oven. Your mother is taking this all rather well." In fact, her mom seemed to think there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"That’s Mom. Too many years of putting up with Fox, I guess. She’s changed though."

"Everything changes." He walked beside her as she made her way down to the kitchen.

"I know that, it’s just before, everything was new. Now, everything is just different."

"Is that bad?" He looked around for a clean bowl and headed over to the crock-pot.

"No, just different." Her face became still as she tried to find the words to express her feelings. Micheal waited until she was ready. "I feel like I’m living in a paradox. Everything’s the same, but it’s different. I’m the same person I was, but I’m not. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m not making a whole lot of sense."

"Yes you are, you just need to get everything settled in your head."

"Thanks for stating the obvious," she quipped and then eased herself down into a chair, spooning up the soup Micheal placed before her.

"You’re welcome."

Chapter 11

I looked up as Jarod again, wandered through the kitchen. That was the third time in the last ten minutes. I flipped a page in the puzzle book I was working my way through, then paused as he came in again.

"What's up Jarod?"

"Have you seen my laptop?" He looked around the kitchen as if expecting it to miraculously appear.

"Nope." I put down the pencil in hopes that finding Jarod’s computer would be more exciting than a search word.

"I left it in the living room, but it’s not there anymore." He jabbed a thumb towards the living room in irritation and leaned up against the counter, perhaps realizing that wandering around the house wasn’t going to make it show up any faster.

"Mom might have picked it up and moved it to one of the bedrooms." It was obvious, but sometimes the little things slipped the mind.

"I already asked her. Mulder hasn’t seen it since yesterday, and Micheal hasn’t either." Not for him.

"Did you ask Angelo?" I figured he was the only one left I hadn’t seen lately, so Jarod might have missed him as well.

"I haven’t seem him for a while. He might have borrowed it," Jarod admitted. Score one for me. Okay, this was only marginally more interesting than the puzzle, but it still had more potential.

"What would he want with your ‘puter?"

"I’m not sure, but he’s the only one left I haven’t talked to about it." With that Jarod started walking to the stairs to the basement, the only place he hadn’t searched ten times already.

"Wait up!" I got up and was halfway across the room before I realized my legs felt like Jell-O. I think I covered for it pretty quick, locking my knees and barely having a hitch in my stride. Didn’t hide it from Jarod though. Bloody Pretender.

"You shouldn’t be doing too much yet. You don’t want to over do things and have a relapse." His mouth frowned and he was about ready to order me back to bed, but I wasn’t going to have it. I needed something to keep my mind occupied and this little mystery was better than anything else. I pulled out the feminine whiles and went to work.

"A relapse of what? Memory influx? What else can I remember? Besides which, I’m bored and Fox has control of the remote. I need something to do." I widened my eyes and kept a hopeful smile plastered on my face.

"Your body has been under significant strain, both from the memory influx and. . . " he trailed off when he noticed the look I was giving him. "What?"

"You were right. I am surrounded by mother hens."

After he pulled his open mouth off the floor, he kept it shut and let me follow him into the basement. Which is good, because I didn’t have the energy to argue much further.

***

Stepping out of the car and stretching muscles that had been stationary too long, Adam felt every one of his 5000 plus years. Stretching would quickly remedy the stiff muscles, but the weight of the years would take a while to ease. He hated his life. He’d lived too long, seen too much, done too many things.

He should have left her in the alley, simply pulled the sword out and left. No, he had to stick around and find out who she was and why she didn’t even carry a sword. His curiosity would kill him yet. If he was lucky, it would be sooner rather than later.

He waited at the door for Miss Parker to enter first but she ignored him and continued to sit in the car. After a few minutes he went in without her, finding Micheal in the living room but no one else around. He went to a chair opposite Micheal and plopped down. Micheal just raised an eyebrow at his old friend and waited.

When Miss Parker finally entered the house and walked past both of them without acknowledging their existence, he nodded to himself.

"You told her it was time to move on, didn’t you." It wasn’t really a question. Micheal knew this man quite well.

"She knows enough and it’s time for her to move on before she becomes dependent on me." Adam replied, shifting in his chair and again wishing he’d never gotten involved in this mess.

"Always afraid that someone is going to realize you have a heart, aren’t you."

"Micheal, now is not the time," Adam snapped.

"Yes, it is. Before you screw up another relationship."

"Oh please, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh and when was the last time we saw each other?" Micheal leaned forward, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"That was not my fault." Adam felt guilty about it, but he was a different person than when he had disappeared on Micheal nearly a thousand years ago.

"No, you just dropped off the face of the planet." Micheal snapped this time, his eyes betraying the smallest hint of hurt.

"You found me easily enough when you needed to."

"By shear luck! I only found you because of you’re association with Duncan." The assassin leaned back into his chair, taking the moment to calm himself. It was a touchy subject for both of them. "So what are you going to do?"

"About what?" Adam didn’t want to be having this conversation.

"Even I can see how you feel about her."

"She hasn’t even told me her first name." He seemed to be fixated on that point, focusing his frustration on the one fact, minor though it was.

"And I bet you haven’t even asked her." Micheal knew he hit a nerve when Adam visibly flinched.

"It doesn’t matter. Teachers don’t keep their students around. They need to get out and learn for themselves." Adam sounded like he was reading from a book.

"That’s a convenient excuse."

"It’s also true."

"No, it’s not. She’s seen more of the world than you know and she’s no innocent. She’s stronger than you give her credit."

"I came to help you with you’re problem, not let you screw with my life." Adam gave up and tried to end the conversation, his voice growing cold with the statement. Micheal reacted, but not in the way Adam expected.

"I’m sorry, for over stepping the bonds of family and questioning your authority." Micheal fell back to the formality of an earlier age, recalling Adam to a time long lost in the dust.

"Micheal don’t." This was not what Adam expected or wanted. Digging up the past was always a bad idea.

"You are my father, my mentor and my friend. You took me in and raised me as your own. When I died, you taught me what it meant to be Immortal and became my mentor. And when I threw it all away, you taught me what it means to be a friend." Micheal’s whole demeanor had changed. The harshness, the anger and the arrogance disappeared. All that was left was a son explaining his life to his father.

"Micheal that was nearly two thousand years ago. It’s the past." Adam said, but Micheal ignored him.

"I came for your head and you spared me. Perhaps you shouldn’t have."

"That’s nonsense." Adam cut in, finally getting a direct response. Micheal’s eyes fired up and his self hatred rang out in his voice.

"Is it? I came after you for no more reason than that you were old and powerful. I found out that friendship is worth more than a Quickening, that loyalty means to the death. That has been my one saving grace." Micheal’s anger bled out of his voice, till the last words were barely whispered.

"You underestimate yourself Micheal. You always did." Adam looked over his friend. This whole situation must have been harder on him than Adam knew, to get him to open up like this. After a few quiet moments, Micheal drew himself together and the son was gone, replaced with the hard edges of the man he had become. The care and friendship was still there, though.

"This isn’t about me, it’s about you." Micheal put the past behind him and went back to the reason for this conversation in the first place.

"Leave this Micheal." Adam almost pleaded this time.

"Love is the only thing that keeps us from going insane, Adam. Without it, we lose our humanity and spend the rest of eternity empty. To find a love like us, one who understands, is that much more precious. Don’t turn your back on it." Micheal got up and left Adam in his chair, stunned into silence.

***

Well, we found Jarod’s computer. And Angelo. And something else.

It took a while for it to penetrate my too full mind, but when it did, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Angelo was sitting in front of Jarod’s computer, replaying a scene over and over again, a man repeating the phrase, ‘There is not more Timmy, there is only Angelo.’

Angelo turned around as we came towards him and then hit a series of keys, breaking the loop. He hit a few more and it started from what I assume was the beginning. A little boy being essentially tortured by a young Mr. Raines when a woman, who was the spitting image of Miss Parker, charged in and put a stop to it.

She ripped off the straps holding the little boy and carefully cradled his head in her hands, her eyes going wide at the slack look on the child’s face. She asked him what he’d done to Timmy, and that’s when it started to fall into place.

The boy on the screen looked familiar and I knew I’d seen his face before and not in the Center. Suddenly I felt very faint and if Jarod hadn’t caught me, I would have landed on my dignity as I practically collapsed.

"I told you, you shouldn’t be. . . " His voice was full of concern, but I didn’t give him a chance to finish.

"Jarod, what’s Angelo’s name. His REAL name?" I clutched at his arm, hoping and dreading his answer at the same time. This was definitely not what I had in mind when I said I wanted some excitement.

"Timmy?"

"His full name!"

"I’m not sure, Timothy. . . "

"Bentley." I cut across him again, feeling like the world had moved without me again.

"How’d you know?" His confusion would normally have put me in raptures for a week, but I didn’t even notice it.

"What was the name of Micheal’s son, the one kidnapped by the Center?" I couldn’t bring myself to come right out and say it; instead, feeding the bits to Jarod as they had come together in my brain.

"Timothy." Jarod’s eyes grew huge as the significance penetrated. He looked as shocked as I felt.

"He was so sure he was dead. He wasn’t at the Center, but they never released him." I started rambling, my brain spilling its thought from my mouth as I tried to reconcile this within myself. How could I explain this to Micheal? "Sweet merciful. . . FATHER!!!"

I ran up the stairs, tripping at the top and not even feeling it as I kept screaming for Father. He pulled me up from the floor at the top of the stairs, concern for me clearly evident on his face.

"Ann, what is it?" He led me to a chair, but I didn’t sit down. Instead, I tried to catch my breath enough to spit out what I’d found out.

"I didn’t realize it was him, heaven help, me I didn’t know, I should have figured it out, I knew all the pieces but I couldn’t put it together." I was talking so fast the words streamed together and Father pushed me down in a chair, telling me to calm down and take a breath.

"Angelo is Timmy."

"What?"

"The Center turned Timothy into Angelo."

Micheal’s face lost all color. His hands clenched around my arms, painfully digging into the muscles, but it didn’t matter. He eventually let me go and turned away, his movements stiff and disjointed. He was out the door before I realized. I followed him out, leaving a group of very confused people behind.

It was dusk and a heavy drizzle had finally broken from the overcast skies. He just stood there, with the rain streaming down his face. I came up behind him, putting my hand on his shoulder. He was as cold as ice but he didn’t even shiver. It was like his entire body just shut down.

"Father?"

"He’s alive." He was still in shock, hardly noticing my presence.

"Yes he is." I turned to look at him, barely noticing the tears that blended with the rain streaming down his face.

"How could I not have known?" he asked, his voice dull, lifeless.

"You did everything you could to find him. I helped you for a while myself, trying to track him, to find him." I felt bad about this myself. I should have been able to put the pieces together but by then my head was so screwed up I couldn’t even remember my own name.

"I thought he was dead, I should have kept looking."

"We both thought he was dead." I was in front of him, hoping he would look at me but his eyes kept staring off into the distance.

"I am his father, I should have stopped this from happening." His voice got a hard edge that spelt trouble in the future but he needed to do something else first. I pulled his face around, forcing him to look into mine, finally seeing his eyes focus on mine.

"Stop this! Enough guilt, enough self recrimination, enough self pity." I released his face, a gentle smile on my face as he snapped out of his fugue state. "Your son is waiting for you."

***

Angelo could feel emotions pouring off the man as he came down the stairs. When Jarod and his lady left, he’d waited, knowing that his father would come. Now everyone knew, as they should, and his father came for him.

Hope, joy, fear, confusion, guilt, exultation swept over him and then he was enveloped in a hug that surrounded him. Then contentment slid into the emotional mix and soon overwhelmed everything but a note of rage that still burned in his father. But it was not directed at him, never at him.

His father gently released him and was soon looking over every inch of him, touching his face, his eyes, his hair, his arms, his shoulders, reaffirming their presence in his mind. Then a wave of guilt washed over his father and he was again pulled into the embrace, soft reassurances murmured into his hair.

Angelo finally wiggled from the embrace, his hand gently taking his father over to the computer to show him what he couldn’t tell him. His father needed to know, to know what happened to him, to know that it wasn’t his fault. The old man did this to him, and now the old man would pay.

The dim light played across his father’s face and Angelo knew that what he saw hurt him, so with light fingers, he slipped his hand into his father’s and let him know he was there. He was even happy now. Jarod was with his lady, the lady was with her brother and he was with his father. Now he could be free.

Chapter 12

When Miss Parker walked into the room, she hoped for some sort of a reaction, even if only to her Immortal presence, but Adam didn’t even look up. She would have thought him asleep if she didn’t know better.

Looking across at his still form in the chair, a thousand thoughts and feeling ran through her mind. Most of them were screaming at her not to go, not to leave the man who meant so much to her. But he’d made his feelings plain. He didn’t care for her beyond a feeling of responsibility as her mentor. Staying would just break her heart all over again. As he’d said, it was time for her to get out on her own.

"Adam?"

"Yes" He kept looking at his book, though he didn’t seem to be paying it too much attention as he turned over three pages at once.

"I just wanted to say good-bye before I left." She thought that kept it pretty simple.

"So soon?" He looked up quickly from his book. What did he think, she was going to hang around here for the rest of eternity?

"So it would seem," she answered wryly.

"Do you have a few minutes?" He finally looked up from his book, his face carefully neutral.

"Well, it’s a long drive, but I don’t think ten minutes is going to make that much of a difference." She followed him out of the library and up to the room he was using, unsure of what to think. On the bed was lying a package that was fairly obvious from it’s shape.

"It seems to be a bit of a custom for a mentor to give his student a sword when they are finished their training. I thought this one would suit you."

Her eyes stayed on the package as she sat on the bed and carefully unwrapped the gift. It was a beautiful, hand and a half sword, with delicate runes that seemed to dance along the length of the blade and a leather wrapped handle dyed a dark red. Lifting it up, the balance fit naturally in her hand. She felt like the sword was a part of her, an extension of her hand, willing to do her biding.

"It’s beautiful." The simple phrase was inadequate, but she couldn’t think of anything better to say.

"It’s light enough to use single handed, but long enough to use with a double grip. It’s about. . . "He was starting to ramble and was having second thoughts about the gift, which, when she interrupted him, he knew he should have listened to.

"Can we try it out?" Her eyebrow arched up invitingly, but her heart ended up in her throat as all the animation left his face.

"I thought you had a long drive?" He gave a stiff smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"Yea, well, I should get going then." Her face was empty as she got up, slipping the sword into its scabbard and carrying it carefully out the door.

"I guess so." He looked around the empty room, feeling miserable.

***

Mulder sipped his coffee while he walked down the hall, smiling at a coworker but missing the strange look he got in return. Samantha was doing much better, Micheal and Timothy had taken off to parts unknown, Adam had just disappeared while Miss Parker had left for Seattle, the Gunmen where incommunicado as they slogged their way through the mass of information they'd gathered and unfortunately, Jarod was staying.

As he turned the corner, Mulder wasn’t sure if having Jarod around was a good thing or a bad thing. Sam seemed to enjoy his company, so Mulder didn’t comment. His Mom was just happy to have Sam at home. Now at the office door, he fumbled with the files in his hands while trying to turn the door knob. Fortunately, Scully came up behind him and spared him the balancing act.

He gave her a brilliant smile and held the door open for her with an elbow. Today, it was back to the daily grind of mutants, aliens, and the seedier side of the supernatural.

"Good morning, Scully." He put the files on the desk.

"Good morning, Mulder." She picked them up and leafed through them.

"There’s been a rash of mysterious deaths in California lately. So far it’s mostly been limited to one small town, but get this, they all died of exsanguiation."

"Vampires again, Mulder?" She flipped a page and caught the name of the town. "In Sunnydale? You’ve got to be kidding."

***

I was just starting to doze off when Jarod stiffened. I was leaning against his side, tucked in under his shoulder with his arm draped over me. It was a really comfortable position and I was more than happy to catch a nap while we watched the news. I’d been sleeping so much the lately you’d think I’d had enough, but sitting on the couch, with Jarod and a blanket I was too comfy to argue with the demands of my recovering body.

When I felt his whole body stiffen, my eyes darted over to the newscast, wondering what had caught his attention. We’d been keeping up with the media frenzy involving the Center for the past two days, since the story broke. By our anonymous tip of course. Already most of the upper echelon, including Mr. Parker and Mr. Raines were already in jail. Mr. Lyle was still at large, but I’ll track him down eventually.

What caught my eye was the latest news. Apparently, Mr. Raines was found dead in his cell this morning. As long as his medical needs were monitored, it had been deemed acceptable that he be kept in custody until the trial. The reporter was now going on about how his difficulties should have been taking into more serious consideration since he died of asphyxiation when his oxygen tank failed.

That sounded a bit too much like a coincidence to me and I’m sure that’s what was going through Jarod’s mind when he saw the piece. That particular death had Father’s finger prints all over it.

"Jarod, breath." I waited to see if he was following my advice and to see if he wanted to talk about it. We’d actually been talking the last few days and I didn’t want to push the fragile trust we’d developed by pushing at the wrong moment.

"It isn’t right," he said, cautiously.

"No it isn’t." I agreed.

"He shouldn’t have done that."

"No he shouldn’t have."

"Would you quit agreeing with me?" His tone didn’t change but he turned to look at me and glared.

"Why? I do." I admitted. I understood what Father did, but I had to side with Jarod on the fact that Father shouldn’t have gone after Mr. Raines.

"You do?" Jarod’s glare eased as he tried to figure out if I was just joking or if I was serious. I was serious. For the most part.

"You have a point, Mr. Raines was already paying for what he did. His death was revenge, nothing more."

"I hear a but in there." Jarod knew me too well.

"But, it was something I think Father needed to do in order to live with himself. He swore he’d make the people responsible pay for what they did to his son and for the death of his wife." I explained.

"They already are."

"But not enough for what that man did to Angelo." I wonder if Angelo’s dreams were as haunted as mine? Jarod didn’t answer right away, but let things mull around in his head.

"It’s not up to us to decide," he finally said. I guess I was starting to agree with him. Or maybe I was just tired of arguing with him about it.

"You have a very peculiar sense of justice Jarod."

"Why do you say that?" he asked. I must have peaked his interest. I leaned my head back from its spot on his chest and looked at him, wanting to see his reaction to what I said.

"You take down the people who commit crimes against the people and punish them to an extent. Or maybe a better way to put it is to say that you make them fully aware of their sins. Then you leave them to the mercy of the courts. You do both. You get your revenge, but you leave their ultimate fate to the law."

"I wouldn’t call that revenge." He had a bit of a point there. With Jarod it usually wasn’t so personal.

"Call it justice than. But," This was a question I’d been wondering about. "What if you’re wrong?"

"I make sure I’m not." He said gently.

"Your a Pretender, not perfect." I threw his early words back at him, breaking the seriousness of our conversation. It worked and we both chuckled over that for a bit. I was happy to discover that most of the bruising on my stomach was healed and I could laugh without it hurting. After we settled down, Jarod started to explain.

"I spend most of my time on a Pretend gathering information and the proof that the person is who I think they are before I do anything about it." It made sense. I hadn’t actually seen him through a whole Pretend, as he called it.

"Have you been wrong?" I was amazed at what he did actually. I could slip into any situation, no problem, but I could never undo the things that are wrong. I just wouldn’t even know where to start.

"Yes. But I can’t let that stop me. There are too many people out there who need help, who fall through the cracks." He seemed to accept that responsibility very readily; the whole, save the world deal. I had enough difficulty dealing with a full set of memories.

"What about the ones who don’t deserve it?" Does he help everyone? He was quick enough to skip out on me. I stopped that train of thought before it got much further. We’d already gone over that and I would jump off that particular bandwagon.

"Everyone deserves help." There. He just confirmed that I shouldn’t let those niggling little doubts see the light of day.

"Even Father?" I teased.

"Even Micheal." he admitted.

"Even when he does something you don’t think is right?"

"Even then," he said dryly. "You can go back to your nap now."

"You know me too well, you know that?" I pulled the blanket down against the draft that was coming up my feet and snuggled in, my eyes already half closed.

"I wouldn’t have it any other way." When he said that, I felt warm all over. I defiantly liked that thought.

Epilogue

The broken and bleeding body was brought before the Cigarette Smoking Man. It hadn’t taken that long to track down this loose end. All it required was to set Krycek on the trail and a few days later, he had results.

Taking a drag on the ever present Morley, his eyes traveled over Mr. Lyle taking in the missing thumb and fingers. The thumb was nicely healed over, but the two fingers were still weeping stumps. That the man could screw over that many powerful people and still be alive, said much of his intelligence and perseverance. Not to mention luck.

Such a man could come in useful. After he’s paid for his mistakes. If he thought loosing fingers to the Yakuza was bad. . .

***

End note as of April 2000

Okay, so I didn’t mention that I don’t own Sunnydale and all things vampish, right off the bat. The reference just sort of slipped out in the end. I’m not bringing the Scooby gang into this though. That would be just too much for my poor mind to cope with.

As for the story itself, I like this one. I think it’s my favorite of anything I’ve written in a long time. If you didn’t like it, shut up and let me keep my illusions.

If you loved it as much as I did, you can write me and let me know.

I have started the next book, but unfortunately, I’ve had a bit of a slump and haven’t had much time to work on it in the first place. I like what I have so far, but haven’t written much the last few months so it might take a while to get finished. Can we say Writer’s Block? Note the capital letters.

Anyway, the upcoming section is called Governing Bodies and is the last installment of When Conspiracies Collide. It has been one heck of a ride. The scary part is that it’s not over yet. Well I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself and are willing to patiently wait as I work on the last part. If not, try sending the muses my way, because otherwise it will take a while.

For those of you who are impatient and can’t wait, I’m toying with idea of setting up a mailing list for Governing bodies as it is written. You can drop me note if you’d like to be on the list, or just send me kudos and tell me to get my butt in gear and finish the last part. Now that the Web Page is pretty much up and running, I hope to get back to some serious writting. Thanks!!