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: [Jarod and Miss Parker are on the phone - talking about the events that had transpired that day
] I hope you find your mother. Jarod
: And what about... *us*? Miss Parker
: You run - I chase. That choice was made for us a long time ago. Jarod
: Maybe *that* is the "Parker Curse". Miss Parker
: [wips away a tear
] Yeah. Hell of a life we live in, Jarod.
: [picks up phone
] What? Jarod
: [slightly annoyed
] You've been chasing me for five years, why don't you leave me alone?
: [after missing seeing his mother by mere seconds
] She was right here. My mother was right here in front of me. And once again, it's the Centre that stops us from being together.
: [talking by a fire - Jarod had just put a blanket around Miss Parker shoulders to keep her warm
] The Centre wants us to believe that finding the truth is a mistake, that looking for answers about who we really are is futile and finding any kind of... connection outside their control is wrong. I know you don't want to hear this but you can feel it. You've been a Centre prisoner all these years just like me. And with every discovery you find you're every bit the outcast. Just like me. Miss Parker
: Why is it that the one person that I've been trained to distrust, to hate, to capture is always with me during the most difficult moments of my life? Jarod
: [voice barely above a whisper
] Maybe, it's supposed to be that way.
[they lean closer until they are close enough to kiss
: We've been through a lot together you and me. From when we were kids at the Centre, to the last couple of days. I know that barely our allegiances are the same but I've always felt...
: I've always known that there's something more to our lives than I run and you chase. Miss Parker
: [staring out the window of the car at her father
] Maybe we do what we have to, to get by in this life. Jarod
: Maybe we both deserve something more. Miss Parker
: [voice breaking slightly
] Just forget what happened on that island, forget that moment of weakness. Turning points only come when you've got something to turn to.
[Jarod looks hurt by her rejection. In a slient plee, he grabs her hand into both of his. After a few seconds of staring into each others eyes, Parker yanks her hand out of his hands
] Miss Parker
: I'm sorry. This isn't the different ending you were looking for. But it's just the way the damn story goes, Jarod.
: [Jumping out of a third floor window
] Are you alright? Miss Parker
: I've been better
: [about a statue
] Meet the demon Asmodeus. Miss Parker
: Ugly son of a bitch!
] Miss Parker
: Reminds me of Raines.
: Who am I? Did the Centre adopt me? Was I bought or was I stolen? And where are my mom and dad? Sydney
: Jarod, we've been over this a thousand times. Your parents died in a plane crash. Jarod
: Yes, I know the story, Sydney. It's been burned into my brain for thirty years. But, you see, I did a little checking. There's this genetic anomaly that's in my blood that should be in my supposed parents. But it's not. Therefore, it's impossible that I'm their son. So, the truth, for once.
: Tell me who I am. Sydney
: I don't know either. At the time, I had on reason to question what the Centre told me. I swear. Jarod
: Then prove it. Give me tomorrow's code to the Centre's mainframe. The truth about who I am has to be in there. Sydney
: You know I can't do that. Jarod
: Sydney, you stole my life! Please give it back to me.
: You a doctor? Jarod
: I am today.
Mrs. Nikkos, the Greek Lady
: Are you a doctor? Jarod
: I am today.
: How many people died, because of what I thought up?
: Disturbance in the Force? Jarod
: Uhhh, the Force? Nia
: Obi-Wan Kenobi?
[Jarod looks at Nia in confusion
: Star Wars? Jarod
: The Satellite Missile Defense System?
: So Forest, where did you do your mountain training? Jarod
: In the mountains, mostly. Stan Conrad
: Yeah. No, seriously, where were you stationed? Fort Lewis? Jarod
: You were in the Army too? Stan Conrad
: Fifteen years. You ever come across a Sgt. Tripcheck? A Ranger instructor at Benning? Jarod
: Sounds familiar. Nia
: He's lying, Stan. He's really one of the Stooges. Stan Conrad
: You two know each other? Nia
: We ran into each other once.
: And before the Rangers? Jarod
: A test pilot, Thoracic Surgeon, Lt. Commander on a destroyer... the usual. And what did you do before you became an outfitter? Nia
: Astronaut, Olympic skater, Nobel Prize winner... the usual.
: Trust in the Force, young Jedi. I saw your laser disk last night.
: Let me help you. Alex
: Now, why would you want to help me? Jarod
: I have a flaw in my character, remember? Alex
: No, thanks. Jarod
: It doesn't have to end this way. Alex
: You don't know what you're saying, Jarod. Jarod
: I know that there is always hope. Always! Alex
: There's no hope for me. Or for you.
: 188 channels and there's nothing on TV?
: I thought you were dead. Alex
: And a lifetime has passed since I died, just like a lifetime has happened for you. A big difference, though. I've dedicated myself to eradicating the insignificant and you've chosen to help them. The crippled, the abused, the, uh, mentally challenged. They all seem to have you as their advocate now, don't they, Jarod? Like I said, it's a flaw in your character. It's almost as if you're trying to heal thyself through your works of kindness. Jarod
: You know nothing about what I do. Alex
: Oh, you've left your mark. Mysterious doctor saves crippled boy. Fireman saves estranged family. Abused elders saved by reclusive industrialist. But to what end? I mean, does it make you feel more like a real person, Jarod? Is that it? Listen. You do yourself a favor. Stop trying to be like them, like a real person with a real past. You and I aren't and never will be.
: [to Sydney who's on the phone with Jarod
] Keep talkin' to him, we almost got him! Jarod
: [Jarod flips a switch to turn on a high pitched noise and force Broots off the tracking
] Tell Broots I discovered Radio Shack.
: How long have you been a lawyer? Jarod
: About 7 minutes.
: When are you due? Martha Poole
: I should've made L.C. months ago but Commander Powell keeps putting it off. Jarod
: Not your promotion. Your baby. I'd say from your nausea and your sore back, you're about nine weeks. Martha Poole
: My husband doesn't even know. What are you, a part-time obstetrician? Jarod
: No, but I was a midwife once.
: Didn't you ever eat cookies as a kid? Jarod
: They didn't have cookies where I grew up. Kimberly King
: Where'd you grow up? Mars? Jarod
: Sort of.
: You're a garbage man? Axe
: "Sanitation Engineer."
: I want each of you to understand that there is only one unforgivable sin in my class. I will not, under any circumstance, tolerate any disrespect for these cadavers. Underneath each of these plastic sheets lies a human being. Many of these bodies, they come to us unknown and unclaimed, which means that they died alone and afraid. With no friends, no homes. Forgotten by their families and thrown away by society. Therefore, they will not be disrespected in this classroom.
: Listen, these people, this organization, they will kill you. Trust me. Argyle
: Trust you? No, you listen to me. Trust. Trust. Great word, right? Trust. It's on every coin, every bill, every buck, and every bond in this country and yet it is still the one thing that you cannot buy.
: [phone rings
] What? Jarod
: Well, well, well, long time no see. And how's life treating you? Miss Parker
: Like he caught me in bed with his wife.
[on the phone
: I killed a man today, Sydney. I killed him as if I'd pulled the trigger myself. Sydney
: Jarod... Jarod
: Simulation 2578. You told me it was a rescue scenario. And then I see it used in the killing of a federal agent and the abduction of an innocent woman. Miss Parker
: The Centre is not in the abduction business. Jarod
: Well, you tell that to Emma Barrett. It's Lyle, isn't it? Miss Parker
: What are you talking about? Jarod
: I'm talking about lies. I'm talking about how innocent people have died because of the way you use my simulations. You used me! Well, no one is going to die anymore. If it's a war the Centre wants, it's what you will get. But I promise you, Emma Barrett will not be the next casualty.