No, I'm NOT kidding. This is for real!
See part 1 for disclaimer. (And I've got you beat, Lisa. Archaelogists have just discovered Part 1 of "Billie," in the form of neolithic cave paintings, in the French Alps!)
Author's note: This one doesn't rate above PG-13 - heck, it may even qualify as G. However, if you've been sticking with this one from the beginning (then you REALLY need to get a life... KIDDING!<g>) the you've already endured bucket loads of nookie... and it ain't over yet!
By the way, I'm REALLY sleepy right now so I apologize for any silly little errors. Any large, significant errors... well, I guess I'm sorry for those too. What AM I going on about, anyway?
Billie, Part 14 by Turg, the Caveman (Aka, Ginger)
Broots was so startled by Parker's sudden, late-night appearance that she was forced to clamp her hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming while reaching out to steady the lamp he'd nearly succeeded in knocking over.
"Do you WANT to wake up Debbie?" she warned in a whispered growl.
He shook his head slowly in response and she removed her hand from his mouth. Flicking on the spared lamp, she took in his attire: bright red flannel pajamas with polar bears all over them. To her raised eyebrow, he felt compelled to explain,
"The cold weather has settled in early this year."
"I guess so," she replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she turned and made her way to the sofa.
"I'm sorry, Miss P," he said as he followed behind her. "I tend to get a little jumpy when I hear someone in my house at 2:00 a.m. Besides, I wasn't expecting you."
Parker flopped onto the couch. Broots remained standing, fidgeting nervously as he eyed her intently. Concern crept across his face. Gesturing around the room with his head, he mouthed,
"Okay to talk?"
"Yes. Sam's already swept for bugs. Haven't you, Sam?" she called over her shoulder. Sam stepped into the room and nodded to Broots then quickly retreated back into the darkened hallway.
"Have a seat, Broots," Parker offered then smiled wistfully because it was so typical of their relationship that she would offer him a seat in his own home. This was going to be harder than she thought. She had grown rather attached to her loveable moron.
In truth, he was nothing of the sort. He was intelligent and highly competent, as well as kind, loyal, funny and, above all, brave... yes, brave. It was one thing to put up with the Centre's sick nonsense when one was raised in that twisted environment and, therefore, didn't know any better. It was quite another to do so having been raised in civilized society by decent people who clearly instilled in their son a very strong sense of right and wrong. Most importantly, he was one heck of a parent; Debbie was clear evidence of that. And he was doing it on his own. Now, more than ever, Parker was in awe of his ability to create a safe, nurturing environment for his daughter while dealing daily with the house of horrors that was his place of employment. She sighed heavily.
"Is everything okay, Miss P? I mean... with you... and the baby... babies?"
Turning her head to look at him, she managed a weary smile then replied, "I'm a wreck but I'm assured that they're just fine... but they are the reason I'm here, partly anyway." Patting her abdomen, she continued, "It's time to go, Broots. We can't stick around here any longer; it's not safe. I've taken my wardrobe to its limit and, in another week or so, it will be impossible to conceal. Besides, things are heating up at the Centre and Jarod's team had a serious run-in with some triumvirate flunkies in Africa while putting a few crucial elements in place. There were..." She frowned then added softly, "casualties."
"Jesus!" Broots blurted. "Is Jarod okay?"
"He's shaken and upset but fine... thank God. But someone else isn't. Someone else who has people who love him, people he'll never go home to. What is it, Broots?" she inquired in response to her colleague's strange facial expression.
Reddening, he averted his eyes and replied, "It's just that... well OBVIOUSLY." He gestured awkwardly in the general vicinity of her belly and continued to stammer, "You're... you're... fond... of... of... each other but this is the first time you've... you've used the term love... um, never mind," he muttered under his breath.
Straightening in her seat and clearing her throat, she offered, "I know this is all... beyond weird and... BELIEVE ME... I wish... I wish I could have kept the personal stuff... strictly... that... but... circumstances."
Parker gave up when she realized she wasn't making any more sense than he was. They sat, side by side, in awkward silence until they heard Sam clearing his throat and turned to find that he had reentered the room.
"I'm sorry, Miss Parker, but we really should get going and Mr. Broots needs to be cleared out of here before dawn."
"Cleared out?" Broots repeated quizzically.
"When I said we needed to get out, I meant all of us. We have a team here to help you and Debbie pack up and get safely away. Only essentials for now; when it's safe, you can come back and get the rest or, I guess, resume life here if you like, although I can't imagine why you'd want to do that."
"Santa Cruz," he muttered distractedly.
"What?" Parker asked softly.
"When I brought up the `hypothetical' prospect of leaving the area, I asked her where she might like to live. A couple nights ago, she saw a show on the Travel Channel about Santa Cruz and, ever since, she keeps bringing it up. She says they have a roller coaster on the beach and a train that takes you into the Redwood forest. It's not too far from Silicon Valley so I guess I wouldn't have too much trouble finding work there. Maybe I could telecommute or something. It sure would be nice to be there when Debbie comes home from school. Wow," he added, looking knowingly into Parker's eyes. "I've been concentrating so hard on trying to prepare her for a major life change that I guess I never took the time to prepare myself."
Placing her hand over his she gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it and standing. Turning to him, she took a deep breath and reassured, "You'll be fine, Broots, and so will Debbie. You'll both be safe; I promise you that. Right, Sam?"
She glanced up to share a small, encouraging smile with her sweeper, who replied, "Sure thing, Miss P."
"Sam, you can go ahead and let them in the back way but please tell them to be quiet. I don't want anyone waking Debbie before it's absolutely necessary."
"Wait a minute," Broots interjected as he bolted from his seat. "You're not going to leave without saying goodbye to her, are you?"
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Parker shook her head and explained, "I can't." Digging into her jacket pocket, she produced a pretty, lavender colored envelope adorned with dried flowers and pressed it into his hand then continued, "It's going to be difficult enough for her as it is and she needs her rest. Please give this to her and tell her that it isn't `Goodbye.' I want to see her, to see you both, as soon as it's no longer necessary to be scattered to the four winds. Are we clear here?"
Her closing question was delivered in typical Parker fashion. Broots smiled and nodded in response.
"Okay then," she said, setting her jaw. "Time to blow this joint."
She moved around her friend and colleague and in the direction of the hallway. Turning to him, she offered a sincere, heartfelt,
"Thank you, Broots."
"For what?"
"For what?" she repeated incredulously. "Are you kidding?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head and looking genuinely bemused.
"Then you really are a moron," she declared with an affectionate smile before swiftly re-crossing the room to give him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, leaving the poor man stunned and speechless.
On her way out again, she turned back once more and remarked coolly, "Well, there's another small mercy."
"Huh?" Broots managed in reply as he struggled to recover from her sudden display of affection.
"If you relocate to a warmer climate, then you can burn those."
She nodded at his colorful sleepwear then turned away from him and disappeared into the darkness. Broots stared after her for a moment then looked down at his pajamas and shrugged.
* * * *
Sydney looked up from the book he was reading and smiled warmly. Parker returned the smile as Sam electronically scanned the doctor's study for listening devices. When the sweeper nodded to her, Parker took the seat in front his desk and remarked, "Burning the midnight oil, Freud?"
"I've never been a very good sleeper," he explained as he closed the book and pushed it aside. "As I'm growing older, I find I require even less."
"You don't seem very surprised to see me. I startled Broots so badly that he nearly demolished his living room."
Smiling, the doctor replied, "No, I am not. I was expecting this." Turning serious, he stated, "It's time."
"Yes," she concurred with a bittersweet smile. "It is."
Sydney glanced around the room and emitted a wry, weary chuckle then began softly, "What is it? What is it they say about familiar misery?"
Parker shook her head in response.
"Ah, well," he said with a sigh. He pulled off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes then met her eyes again and, smiling, continued, "It doesn't matter. For the first time in a very long time, things are as they should be, or at least, are well on the way to being so."
Noticing her slightly pained expression, he asked, "What is it, Miss Parker? Is something wrong?"
Glancing down at her shoes, she replied, "There was some trouble... in Africa."
"Jarod?" Sydney inquired with alarm in his voice.
"He's okay but..." she continued to contemplate her colleague's oriental rug. "I thought my life was stressful BEFORE... when I didn't care what happened to him or..."
"Pretended not to?" the doctor offered with a hint of humor in his voice.
In reply, Parker cast him a look that made him laugh out loud before proceeding,
"This morning I was thinking about an experiment Jarod and I ran together when he was a boy. I believe you remember it. It involved." He paused for dramatic effect before adding, with a raised eyebrow, "Rabbits."
She folded her arms at her chest and, suppressing a smile, replied in an even tone, "Yes, I VAGUELY remember it."
"Then you MIGHT remember that he did something that invalidated the experiment, which represented the loss of several weeks worth of work."
Parker shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"But what I remember finding most startling at the time was his attitude."
"Really?" she commented, cocking her head.
"Up to that point, Jarod had generally been so eager to please, and so remorseful when he'd done something that he knew he shouldn't. But in that case." Sydney gazed off into the distance and smiled.
"Well," he continued, shaking his head. "The only word I can use to describe his attitude is unrepentant. When I finally managed to get him to admit that what he'd done was wrong... he was particularly obstinate on that point... the best he could do was to grunt an apology. And I knew..."
"What?" Parker asked skeptically.
"I KNEW that if he'd had an opportunity to do it all over again, he would have."
"There better be a point to this, Syd," she warned, the warmth of her tone belying the words. "We don't have all night," she added as she rose from her chair then smoothed her jacket.
Taking her cue, Sydney also stood and, as he moved around his desk toward her, observed,
"For all his gifts and talents, Jarod is, on some level, a remarkably uncomplicated creature. As a boy, he met a bright, pretty girl with dark hair, blue eyes and a passionate soul, and concluded that nothing could be more important, or rewarding, than making her smile."
Now standing right in front of her, the doctor took Parker's hand in his and continued softly, "And, despite all his experiences out there in the world, I do not believe that part of him has changed much, if at all. I think he could be content devoting the rest of his life to making her smile."
"Why?" she asked in a tone that indicated she was sincerely seeking an answer.
"Jarod once posed a similar question and I'm afraid I may not have answered it to his satisfaction. This is a bit beyond my area of expertise, Miss Parker. Despite great advances in the behavioral sciences, the human capacity to love remains largely uncharted territory, which is, perhaps, as it should be. We scientists have our place in the world, as do the philosophers and poets. All I can say is that a connection like the one you and he share, well... it defies rational explanation. It is indeed a mystery... a beautiful mystery... a wonder..." He shrugged and added, "A miracle."
"Miss Parker?" Sam interrupted in an apologetic tone from the doorway.
"I know," she responded, quickly regaining her composure as she turned to address the sweeper. "We'll just be another minute."
Sam nodded in assent and promptly disappeared.
Turning back to Sydney, she advised, "You'll only be able to take a few things." Glancing around the room she continued, "I'm sorry. You'll have to leave all your books but, later, when it's..."
"It's fine. Really, it is," he soothed with a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of her hand.
"You'll be safe. I promise. Michelle... Nicholas... We've taken every precaution."
"I know," he replied with a nod then advised, "Now go. We don't want to force Sam to come back in here, do we?"
Shaking her head, Parker managed a small smile before Sydney leaned in and said, "Pardon me, Miss Parker, if I may be so bold."
He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered, "Etre bien, mon petit chou," before stepping back and gesturing toward the door.
Her response was a smile so evocative of her mother that Sydney was briefly transported back to the night, some thirty years earlier, when a dear friend had paid him a visit. *It looks like we did it, Catherine,* he offered up in a silent prayer.
*We did it.*
"Etre bien, mon cher ami."
Parker's words - spoken in perfect, unaccented French - broke his reverie and Sydney smiled in admiration as he watched her stride confidently out of his study.
"Etre bien..." he repeated in a whisper then quickly turned back to the desk and leaned over to grab the book he'd been reading when she arrived. He would be taking that one with him. It was a compelling story and he had no intention of waiting to see how it ended.
* * * *
Pulling up in front of the imposing residence, Sam turned to Parker and, with a sympathetic smile, announced, "Last stop, Miss P."
She nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Are you sure about this?"
With a bitter laugh she replied, "As sure as I've ever been about anything when it comes to him. Are YOU sure about... you know?"
"My team followed the paper trail to the highest levels and could find no evidence that Mr. Parker had any prior knowledge of the plan to assasinate Thomas Gates. At what point after the fact he became aware of Brigette's role is unclear."
With another deep breath, Parker offered, "Thank you, Sam. I guess I'll have to add this to the rather long list of good deeds for which I'll be eternally in your debt."
"Nah," he replied with a shrug. "Just consider it repayment for all the fun you and Jarod have given me over the years."
The shared a brief, genuine chuckle then Parker opened the door and climbed out of the car.
Leaning into the vehicle, she said, "I won't be long."
"We've got your back, Miss P. We won't let him hurt you."
With a wry smile she remarked, "Jeez... Where were you when I was ten... or sixteen... or twenty-one?" then closed the door and turned to face her father's fortress.
"Now or never," she muttered under her breath then proceeded up the stone path leading to the front entrance.
Strangely enough, with every step she took her anxiety dissipated and her resolve grew until, when she reached the porch steps, she had to stop herself from taking them two at a time. She pressed the doorbell hard, and kept right on pressing when she saw light illuminating a window on the second floor. Her finger remained on the button until the hallway light went on and she heard muttered swearing on the other side of the door.
"This had better be damned important or someone will... Angel! What the hell are you doing here at this hour?"
"I need to speak with you, Daddy," she announced curtly, breezing past her father before he'd even had a chance to invite her in.
"O... okay," he replied, shutting the door absently behind him.
Mr. Parker didn't say anything else as he followed her down the long hallway to his den. Entering the room, she flicked on the wall switch to the overhead light, paced to the center of the room, spun around, and folded her arms at her chest.
"Anything going on I need to know about?" she asked.
Frowning he answered, "I was hoping I wouldn't HAVE to bother you with this right now but if you INSIST..."
"Oh, I insist," she interjected through a tight jaw.
"I'm afraid there's been some trouble in Africa."
"Trouble?"
"Trouble... and Jarod was right in the middle of it... of course. But I guess you probably already know that. I assume he's the little bird that chirped in your ear. That would explain the hour. This is about the time you usually hear from him, isn't it?"
"Usually," she replied, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"Ah, hell, Angel." He sighed and slumped down into a leather arm chair. "I don't know what to make of any of this. Things have gotten downright dangerous and the timing's just awful. Thanksgiving's just a couple weeks away and I was hoping to have a real family holiday, here at the house. Now I don't know if we can..."
"Don't upset yourself over it, Daddy. I won't be in town for the holiday and the reason I'm here tonight is to STRONGLY suggest that you not be either."
"What?" he asked, blinking up at her and looking genuinely bewildered.
"It's over, Daddy, or rather it will be, very soon."
"What the hell are you going on about, Angel?" he growled, scratching his temple as he struggled to process what she was telling him.
"I would very much appreciate it if you'd stop calling me that. My name is Margaret."
Her father's head snapped up and he just stared, gap-jawed and incredulous, into her eyes. It was finally beginning to sink in. After what seemed like a lifetime of silence, his voice trembled with anger or shock or both as he demanded,
"Good God, Angel, what have you done!"
"I've asked you not to call me that. My name is Margaret, Margaret Catherine. And I've done something that I should have done a long time ago. I'm finishing what Momma started."
He was visibly trembling, his eyes darting nervously around the room as he sputtered, "My God, you'll get us all killed... just like your mother... just like your mother was determined to do."
"Not this time, Daddy." Parker's voice was fortified with steel as she continued, "I have every intention of surviving this. And I'm sure you can too. Your survival skills are top notch."
Stealing a sideward glance at his desk, Mr. Parker's voice was more controlled when he asked,
"And what makes you think I'm just going to let you walk out of here, Angel?"
Setting her jaw, she replied, "I guess the same thing that brought me here in the first place. I believe that somewhere in there, somewhere deep down inside, you love me. In your own way and as much as you're capable, you love me. Maybe it's something I HAVE to believe in order to justify my worthless, pitiful existence on this planet thus far, and maybe I'm wrong. But I believe it nevertheless."
What she left unspoken was that her loaded 9mm was tucked into the waistband of her slacks and, while she might not be capable of firing it at him to save her own sorry ass, she wouldn't think twice about doing so to protect the lives of her unborn children. She had no intention of sharing that fact with him, though. She wanted... no, she NEEDED to know if he'd let her go for the RIGHT reasons.
"Damn it!" he growled. "There is no LOYALTY in the world! My own wife put the interests of another woman's family before her own and now it appears that you've done the same thing! It's that damned boy's fault! I was always afraid of something like this... afraid that Jarod would succeed in tainting you with his lies!"
Parker could do nothing but shake her head.
"Well go on!" he yelled as he hauled himself out of the chair and motioned violently toward the door. "Get out! Get out of my house! I never want to see you again!"
"As you wish," she said evenly then headed for the door.
"I always knew you would disappoint me one day," he remarked as she reached the doorway.
Smiling bitterly she stopped and, turning her head just enough to so he could hear, Parker replied,
"Funny... so did I."
She stepped into the hallway and paused another moment to listen, waiting until she heard him sink back into the armchair to proceed down the hallway. With every step she took away from her father, and life as she'd known it for as long as she could remember, the pressure of her unshed tears increased until, by the time she reached the car, it bordered on pain.
And yet, without looking back, she climbed into the car and calmly requested, "Sam, please get me the hell away from here."
"My pleasure, Miss P," he replied softly then started the engine.
They drove more or less in silence, except for a couple mild pleas from Sam that she try to get some rest. As exhausted as she was, Parker could not bring herself to shut her eyes. To occupy herself she alternated between staring down at the roadway striping and up into the clear night sky. When she read a large sign informing her that they were leaving the State of Delaware it finally registered: she had been spared the ordeal of killing her father.
Parker pressed her head against the passenger window, closed her eyes, and released the tears she'd been holding back. They ran down her face in a steady stream until she finally descended into a deep, merciful sleep.
# # # #
Tbc... If anyone still cares, I see a nauseatingly sweet reunion with a certain furry, brown-eyed mammal in Miss Parker's future.
