Disclaimer is that I don't own them but NBC and MTM does. PG-13



Hell To Pay
part I
by Trisha





As she towel-dryed her wet locks, Parker cursed when the shrill of the phone interrupted her train of thought, yet she was expecting his call. She always did after she returned home, empty handed, again.

"What?'" she was expecting his flippant remark, instead a mature voice responded with her own question.

"Is this Miss Parker?" the woman preceded to ask, unfazed.

"Yes," she waited, patience running thin. Was he up to something, by having a stranger call?

"Do you know Jarod. . .?"

"Jarod! What about Jarod? Where is he?"

"He gave your name and number in case of an emergency."

"Excuse me! What the hell is going on?" she was going to kill him when she got a hold of him, listing her, he had a lot of nerve.

"This is St. MIchael's Hospital, Miss Parker. Dectective... . ..

"Dectective? Jarod?" a slight laugh escaped her throat.

"Yes, Miss Parker, Jarod was rushed into surgery half an hour ago. He was shot in the line of duty, and I am sorry to have to tell you this but it doesn't look good. So, if you wish to see him, I'd advise you to . . . .the voice droned, but Parker had stopped listening, when she realized that her knees had buckled and she sank onto the bed, her hands trembling, trying to comprehend and find her voice. She never wished him dead, never. Him and his f****ing pretends.

"Miss Parker, are you still there?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I'll be there, shortly. Here's my cell number," her voice cracked, "just in case." Hanging up the phone, images of every stupid stunt he ever pulled bombarded her. His dark eyes dancing merrily with delight at her frustration everytime she missed catching him. His infernal smirk, his feeding her bread crumbs regarding her past, with such patience that it drove her nuts. Sydney! Oh god! She had to call him. He'd never forgive her if she went alone and she didn't want to go alone. Picking up her phone again, she dialed.

"This is Sydney," the voice on the other end replied, as always.

"Syd!"

"Miss Parker. You've returned. Did you find. . . .?" he never got to finish.

"Syd, he was on one of his f***ing pretends, and, oh god, Syd, he's been shot. . he's critical. . . .in surgery. . .St. Michaels. They called me.He gave them my number and name. Why would he do that? Sydney. Why me?" she whispered, still confused at the emotions that she was feeling.

"Miss Parker, I'm on my way!" his hands shaking as he hung up the phone, please, oh please, he could not lose him. He loved him, and he needed to tell him.


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Disclaimer is in part 1. PG-13



Hell To Pay
part II
by Trisha








The knock at the front door, caused her to jump, she had been sitting, slumped across her desk, staring at the phone since she had called Sydney. Trying to will it to ring, hoping to hear his voice on the other end. Wishing he would say, "Hello, Miss Parker, did you miss me?" Rising slowly, she reached for and turned the knob of the door, and found Sydney standing there, worry written all over his features.

"What happened, Miss Parker?" he entered, looking at her as though she could give him an explanation.

"I have no idea, Syd. The hospital said to get there as soon as possible." she said, quietly.

"Miss Parker, I do think that we should. . ."

"You're right, Syd. I'll drive." she watched him grimace, slightly," I'll get us there in one piece, I promise."

He nodded, and held the door open for her as they exited the house and made their way to Miss Parker's car. Neither felt like talking, both wrapped up in thoughts and memories of Jarod. What was only a few hours, seemed a lifetime to Sydney, as Parker pulled the car into the hospital's parking ramp and into the first available parking space she found.

As soon as they stepped off the hospital's elevator, Parker was immediately beset upon, by a smartly dressed woman, with her hair swept up in a chignon. Her hazel eyes met Parker's, but they were unreadable to the younger woman.

"Miss Parker?

"How did. . .?" she asked, stunned.

"He has your picture on his desk. Captain Victoria Scott. I'm sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances," she extended her hand, and gripped Parker's firmly.

"This is Dr. Green, a longtime friend of Jarod's," Parker said, her voice betraying her," What the hell happen?"

"Miss Parker, calm down," Sydney said in a hushed tone," Captain Scott will tells us what happened, if you give her a chance, too."

"You're right, Syd," as she pushed a lock of her hair out of her face.

" He was working undercover at the local high school. Some female students..." she shook her head at the thought, then continued," one was raped, brutally beaten and left to die. At first, we thought it was a student, but Jarod put together a profile and discovered it was a teacher. He managed to get some of the other students to come forward. The case was rock solid, that is until Wayne Carter, the father of the girl that died, went postal. Jarod learned the man was holding the suspect's wife and daughter, hostage. He was first on the scene. He managed to get the child and wife released, but for whatever reason, Carter pulled the trigger. He was aiming for the little girl, I suppose he wanted to inflict the same pain on the suspect and his family, anyway Jarod saw it and took the bullet. Right in the back, it lodged next to his heart."

Parker's face paled when the Captain revealed where the bullet had lodged. She reached out for Sydney's hand, to steady herself. She couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why this was affecting her so deeply. It was Jarod. The Centre lab-rat.

"Excuse me, Captain Scott," a young officer, with a look of apology on her face, all the officers that could, have donated to the blood bank. If you wish to, the nurse is waiting for you."

"Thank you, Scanlon. Tell her, I'll be there in a moment. Seems that Jarod's blood type is rare, and the blood bank is running low. We tend to protect those of our family and during a time of crisis we pull together. If you will excuse me," Captain Scott preceded to roll up her sleeve, then turned and started to enter a small cubicle.

"Miss Parker, if you don't mind, I think I will donate as well, Jarod and I may not be the same blood type, but it will give me some thing to do. A sense of purpose," Sydney said, then left her standing alone in the hallway.

"Miss Parker," a voice from behind said dryly, " Detective Hailey Martin, Jarod's partner." Parker eyed the woman, from head to toe, taking in the lean, muscular figure, the ash-brown hair pulled away from her face, the brown eyes filled with worry.

"So, where the hell were you when he was shot?" anger dripped off her question, "Why didn't he have his vest on? That is standard procedure."

"He found out about Carter and blew out of the station in such a hurry. We immedaitely followed. As far as wearing his vest, he wouldn't, since most of his work was undercover, claimed it was a pain, " the detective shook her head.

"Figures!" Parker spat in response," Has there been any nes regarding surgery?"

"No! It's been almost six hours. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?"

Parker shook her head no, and walked over to the small waiting room. Taking a seat in an uncomfortable leather chair, she leaned her head back against the wall, remembering. The first time she saw him in the sim lab, sad and lonely. The next time, she had actually told him her name and then kissed him. How he had tried to get someone to help her mother on that horrible day, how he gave her comfort after Faith had died. He was there when Thomas died. She shook her head, no she wasn't going to go there. If anything happened to him, what would happen to her. She never realized just how entwined their lives were. Bonded together, by circumstances the Centre created, his need to find his family and her need to discover what happen to her mother. Slumping forward in the chair, her elbows on her knees, her fingers pushed through her hair, trying believe that he really was indestructible.

"Miss Parker," a gruff, yet tired voice spoke.

Looking through her fingers, she saw a blue scrub-dressed figure standing before her. A weary look in his eyes, he took a seat next to her, exhaling deeply.

"He's in recovery. The next twenty-four hours are critical. We lost him. . ."

Her hands sought out the sides of the chair, her grip so tight that the whites of her knuckles showed.

"but got him back. He lost a lot of blood. The bullet damaged his lung and it nicked his arorta before it lodged just behind it. He is very lucky to be alive. He'll be in ICU in about an hour. Once there, you can see him, but like I said, he is not out of the woods. Not by a long shot, we could still lose him," he place his hand on her's, patted it gently then got up and left her alone. The phrase, Could still lose him, echoed in her brain. Like hell, she thought, I can't.



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Disclaimer is in part 1. I don't own them, make no money off of them, only play with them because I suffer from Pretender syndrome, or the lack thereof.




Hell To Pay
part III
by Trisha






"Miss Parker," a soft soothing voice spoke, gently shaking her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she blinked to focus them, the glare of the lights harsh. It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts and remember just where she was. A hospital. Jarod. Shot. Looking up, she saw a young woman dressed in a pink smock, white pants and a stethoscope draped around her neck.

"He's up from recovery. Miss Parker, he's in ICU. Dr. Green is with him at the moment."

Parker stared at the nurse, allowing a moment to gather her strength, before she extricated herself from the imitation leather chair. Fu**ing uncomfortable, she noted.

"I have to warn you, he's still critical. We're having trouble keeping him stabilized. He seems to have given up," the nurse said, as they walked down the dimmly light corridor to the green double doors, posted with a sign that read- Intensive Care Unit. Parker entered this netherworld, not really sure of how she would react once she saw him. In her mind's eye, she pictured him sitting up in bed, that sanctimonious grin on his face, his brown eyes twinkling, and his voice asking her,"Aw! Miss Parker, I didn't know you cared." Damn him.

The nurse indicated the last room on the left, the curtains were drawn and the door closed. Steeling herself for the sight that would greet her, she slowly opened the door. The room was bathed in a gray-blue haze, the lights dim and casting skeletal shadows on the walls. The shadows, Parker realized belonged to the machinery that surrounded his bed. So many tubes and wires ran from machine to his body that Parker had to look away, if only briefly. The only noises came from the machines that were attached to him, his heartbeat was zigzaging on the monitor, the respirator hummed and she could see his chest rise and fall with each compression. This was not right, he should not be here, her mind screamed. A shadow moved, different from the others, Syndey. Seated next to his fragile body, his hand placed over the one that was boarded and taped, with needles and tubes nourishing him, sat theman that had been like a father to him, hell to both of them.

"Syd," her voice cracked," How long have you been here?"

"Since they brought him up from recovery. They lost him again, Parker," turning his head towards her, his eyes full of pain and anguish. Jarod was like a son to him, although he would never admit it to her, she knew that Sydney secretly hoped that Jarod would escape the world of the Centre and find that which he sought. His family.

"Why don't you go get some rest? I'll sit with him for a while. And call Broots, make up some excuse as to why we're gone. I talked it over with Captain Scott and the media won't release his name. That's all we would need right now, a team of sweepers and my lunatic brother trying to take him back to the Centre. I won't let him go back there, not like this," she stopped herself, when she saw the surprised and shocked look on Syndey's face. A small smile escaped, if only briefly.

" If you tell him I said that, I'll deny it and make sure your remaining days here on earth a living hell. Do you understand me, Syd."

"Loud and clear, Miss Parker," the older man said, as he offered her the chair, he previously occupied. Parker watched the heavy hospital door shut behind him, before turning to the person that lay on the bed.

"Damn it, Jarod!!! What the hell were you thinking? Not wearing a vest. Sometimes for a genius, you can be pretty dumb," she placed her hand on his, it was cool to the touch. Shuddering slightly, she reached up and cupped his cheek, that also cool to her touch," You can't die, do you hear me? I can't afford to lose anyone else. To many have left me alone. I'll never forgive you if you do?" she blinked back the tears that had welled up in her eyes. It was to late, they spilled over her lower lashes and coursed down her cheeks, hitting his arm.

Sitting across from the bed, on the window sill's ledge, unseen by anyone, was a ghostly shade. Jarod's shade. He watched and smiled. He was right, his friend still existed. If anyone could have seen him, they would have been amused at what the shade did next. Rising slowly, he made his way to where his friend sat and whispered softly, " I always knew you cared, Mis Parker."

With that said, the infernal machine that monitored his heart---flatlined.

"No," she screamed, as the room burst with activity,as she was being pushed out the door, she whispered softly," Fight, damn it, fight."

She watched as the doctor grabbed the paddles and called out the number of jules needed to bring him back. Back to her, she thought, as the door closed leaving her to wait and wonder. She needed him, the realization hit hard and fast. She tried to look to her future. To a future without him and everytime she did, he was there. He couldn't die, he just couldn't. She needed to understand these feelings and emotions that swirled in her, causing her stomach to tighten in knots at the fear of losing him.

"Please God," she whispered, wondering if it was to late to ask for help.



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Disclaimer is in part one. I am truly obsessed. Actually I closed my eyes only briefly and part of this chapter played out in color.
Oh Niceole- HAPPY BIRTHDAY! For you.


Hell To Pay
part V
by Trisha

She waltzed into his office, waiting to hear him tell her that she was going back to Corporate. He was sitting at his desk, watching something on his monitor, when he looked up and saw her standing there, glowering.

"Angel," he said.

"Daddy," she replied.

"The triumverate wants you to find the boy and Major Charles, now that Jarod's dead. As soon as possible."

"Daddy, we had a deal. I bring Jarod back to the Centre, I go back to Corporate. I brought him back."

"We need the boy, Angel!"

"Then let Lyle find him,"she spat, and turned to leave.

"If I didn't know better, sis, I'd say that you missed the lab rat. That was your pet name for him, wasn't it? " his grin was sadistic and twisted.

"My pet name," she said through clenched teeth," I use it, not you."

"My, my, my, aren't we touchy," Lyle smiled sweetly.

"Go to hell!" she stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

"What's her problem?" Lyle asked his father, innocently.

She let herself in, and headed straight for the liquor decanter that sat on the table behind the sofa. Grabbing a crystal tumbler, she poured it half full with scotch and downed it effortlessly. Hunt the boy, no way. It was impossible, he was her only connection to Jarod, yet not her Jarod. She didn't grow up with this Jarod, yet she wanted to see this Jarod free. Funny how death twists your thinking, she thought, as she kept refilling her glass. She had hunted her Jarod for three and a half years, and it took a stranger's bullet in the back to end it all. His back. Unfinished business. Unresolved feelings. He was dead and there was nothing she could do to bring him back. Dead. It echoed in her brain. Dead. She remembered asking God not to take him, but did he listen. Hell no! Everyone that mattered to her. Dead! Mother. Dead! Faith. Dead! Thomas. Dead! Jarod. Dead. She was dead, inside. She died the night he did. She held his hand and screamed at him to fight, did he listen. No, he just slipped away, leaving her alone. Again. Damn him! The tumbler crashed against the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. In an alcohol-induced stupor, she made her way to the bedroom, peeling off the power suit as she went, leaving it where it fell. She climbed into bed and drifted into a restless slumber.

*******************************************************************

"Wake up, Parker," a voice whispered, as warm breath tickled her cheek.

"Don't want to wake up?" she murmured, brushing her cheek with her hand.

"It's time to wake up, Parker," a warm hand on her arm, running up and down the length of it, from shoulder to wrist.

"Damn it, Jarod! I don't want to wake up?"

"Come on, lazybones. We planned to spend the whole day together. Get up or I'll rip the covers off of you," his tone playful, but the threat was there.

"Jarod, stop.. . .. " she opened her eyes and turned to the figure lying next to her. Shock written on her features. Alive and she was in his bed.

"Parker, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," he grinned.

"I am. You. You're dead. I was there,"perplexed,she stared up at the ceiling.

"SHHHhhh! Do I look dead?" he laughed," Do I feel dead?" his hand on her face, gently turning her toward him.

"You're dead! I'm drunk, so leave me the hell alone! What is this? Payback. Lyle's twisted way of driving me nuts. Does Raines have a rubber room ready for me on renewal wing?"

"You are not drunk, or nuts, and I'm not dead."

"Yes you are. . . .!" she started to say when he covered her lips with his forefinger and leaned closer to her. Mere inchs between them.

"Do dead men do this?" he whispered, his lips, his body finding hers.

"Jarod!"

She sat up with a start.

"What the hell?" she ran her hands over her body, imagining. Get a grip, she thought, that was Jarod. So what! If she closed her eyes, could she recapture the feeling, his touch, his kiss. . . .

Then she remembered. Jarod, hospital, shot, dying. Yet it seemed so real. She reached her hand over. Warm. Confused, she opened the red notebook. Newspaper clippings. Not his latest pretend. An old one, one that still demanded justice. He hadn't forgotten.

Standing in the corner, a gray shade, a smirk on his features. Watching, waiting, needing her to believe, to remember.

"I'll ask you again, Miss Parker, do you believe in miracles? before the shade dissolved into nothingness.

A faint whisper, his voice. No just the after effects of an all to vivid dream. She had best get back. Sydney must be worried. Hoping that the news was good, she needed answers. Her feelings more jumbled and confused then before.




Happy Birthday Niceole!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



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Disclaimer is in part one. This one is for you Nicolette. Answers regarding the picture.



Hell To Pay
part VI
by Trisha





A wind whipped through Parker's leather coat, chilling her body, as she made her way back to the hospital. The inky black night was beginning to turn midnight blue. She hoped that Sydney wasn't to worried about her. Entering the foyer of the hospital, a bundle of string-tied newspapers caught her eye. The headline, screamed "Carter Escapes Custody." Anger gripped her, as she raced for the elevator, impatiently pushing the up button. So, that explained why Captain Scott posted a guard. An eternity seemed to pass, before the metal doors slid open allowing her to enter. She began to tap her foot at its lethargic ascent to the sixth floor.

Emerging from the elevator, Parker turned the corner and caught sight of the uniformed guard outside the green double doors.

"Morning, Miss Parker," he nodded his head in the direction of the doors, "Dr. Green's with him, still, and he's improving."

A sigh of relief washed over her as she started to push open the door, yet something stopped and she turned back and looked at the officer.

"Officer. . .?"

"Dectective Fellows," he smiled,"What can I do for you?"

"Does everyone on the force know who I am?"

"'Fraid so, Miss Parker."

"Mind enlightning me," she leaned up against the wall opposite the dectective, her arms across her chest.

"When he came on board, his desk was usually pretty bare, except for those damn pez dispensers. The boy has a wicked sweet tooth, if you don't mind my saying so."

Parker grinned, and nodded, acknowledging the statement.

"Well most of us have pictures and such on our desks, so one day a real hardass. Sorry, Miss," he smiles, slightly.

"Don't be. I've heard and probably used worse, " she returned the smile.

"Dectective Trainor started to needle Jarod. He's not one to lose his temper, very often, is he? Anyway, Jarod's busy writing in this red notebook of his, when Trainor makes a grab for it. Your picture fell out."

Parker waited with bated breath for him to continue, he must have been working on the notebook she had read earlier. The one regarding Thomas.

"Trainor, pig that he is, made a rather crass remark. Jarod didn't take kindly to it. Although he tried to ignore him, Trainor continued. Well, push came to shove and Jarod flattened him right in the squad room. Then as Jarod helped the son of a bitich up he commented to Trainor how lucky he only suffered from a black eye, for if it had been you, he'd have left the room, when the janitor emptied the garbage can, for he'd be wrapped in a tissue, after you squashed him with your stiletto heel," Dectective Fellows chuckled when he saw Parker grin," After that your picture sat on his desk. Called you his good luck charm, he seemed to solve case after case, that is until. . .

" Fellows stopped when he saw Parker's smile dissolve into a tight lipped frown.

"Thank you," she whispered," Now I'd best relieve Dr. Green."

"You're welcome, Miss Parker." he said as he held the door open for her," He'll pull through, with you here."

Making her way toward his room, she noticed that the curtains were drawn open and Sydney had his eyes closed, his face resting on his palm. Opening the door, slowly, so as not to distrub him, Parker cursed, silently when it creaked.

"Did you have enough time to think?" his voice was soft, yet gravelly from sleep.

"Sorry, Syd. The guard said he's improving?" her eyes darted to the prone figure on the bed.

"They are going to remove the breathing tube in a few hours," Sydney informed her, a look of relief in his features.

"It seems we have a bigger problem, don't we?" she eyed him critically," You knew that Carter escaped." He shook his head in the affirmative, watching her for any signs of rage or anger.

"I think you should go back to the Centre and have Broots run a search for this guy. I'll stay. You can also keep Lyle away from here," she knew she was asking a lot of him, but if both were gone, someone was bound to wonder.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," her reply was low but quick," I'll stay in touch and if . . . ."

"There's no if's, Miss Parker. He's not going to die, not yet anyway. Unless you still plan on killing him," Sydney looked from woman to man, wondering about the childhood bond they once shared, wondering if it was still there. He believed it was or she wouldn't have come.

The shade returned to his position on the window sill's ledge, and half sat upon it, taking in the two that occupied the room. One believed, now for the other one. She was cracking, a little at a time. Their friendship was still important to her, but something told him that it went deeper than that. The shade wondered just how deep, at least on her part, for he knew how deep they were on his part.

"Guess we ought to find out just how deep, don't you agree, Miss Parker?" the shade chuckled," You didn't mind it, earlier, when I invaded your dreams. What about in real life?"

Parker felt a warmth invade her, a warmth that she had felt earlier, while sleeping and dreaming. Dreaming about Jarod. Shaking her head, she tried to push those thoughts out of her mind, only the warmth intensified.





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Hell To Pay
part VII
by Trisha






Sydney waited until the doctor removed the breathing tube from Jarod, before he left for the Centre. Unfortunately he was still in a coma. The doctor attributed it to the trauma his body had been subjected too. Parker gave Sydney the phone number of where she would be staying, never telling him that it was Jarod's apartment. Parker promised to call him, the minute Jarod's condition changed, for better or worse. Parker hoped it would be for the better, and she hoped soon. As long as she checked in with the Centre every so often and feed them a line of bull, she could stay for at least two weeks, after that it. . ..

The only noise that came from the room was his steady breathing, no more machines to aid him, except the IV's that pumped painkillers and nourishment into him. Parker got up out of the chair and stretched her aching back, before she resumed her place in the chair, her hand on his.

"Come on, Jarod, wake up, damn it? What do you want from me?" she put her head down on the mattress and closed her eyes, only for a moment. The movement was subtle, in fact she thought she imagined feeling it at first. His fingers gripped her's, looking up she found herself staring into big brown eyes.

"Par. . ." he tried to speak, his voice hoarse.

"Shhhhh!" she looked into his eyes, which had a million questions reflected in them. Taking a seat on the bed, she gently placed a hand on his cheek,"Welcome back, Jarod!"

He stared at her, his hand clasping hers tightly, as panic filled his eyes.

"Easy, Jarod. You're not in the Centre," she said softly, his panicked look diminishing, slightly. He tried to sit up, but grimaced as a bolt of pain shot through his body.

"Hey, wonder-boy, you just had major surgery. Lie back down. I don't need you to rip open those stitches," she gently eased him back down on the bed.

"Surgery?" he whispered," Why?"

"You were shot," she whispered, " I told Sydney that I wouldn't kill you, but . . .if you are playing mind games. . .."

"Shot?" his breathing was labored and ragged, the look of panic returned.

"Jarod, does the name Wayne Carter mean anything to you?

"No! Should it?" his voice was quiet in timbre and the panic in his eyes caused them to darken.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked as she tried to keep the fear out of her voice.

"Being back at the Centre," he looked at her, confused.

"You escaped."

"Did you shoot me?" he said in a very low voice.

Her eyes widened at the question. There was a silence, that seemed to last an eternity, between them.

"No! How can you ask that?" she snapped.

"You always wanted to take me back!" he reminded her.

"So. . .you just assume that I did it! If I did, do you think that I would be here?"her anger getting the best of her.

"I don't know?" he said as he turned his head away from her gaze," Maybe. I'm in no condition to run."

"You son-of-a-bitch," she murmured and got up from the bed, leaving the room in a huff, tears in her eyes, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing them.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, trying to remember what happened to him, yet remembering someone asking him to fight, to live, asking God for help.



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Disclaimer is part 1 feedback is needed for a ninth part please. . . .Niceole thanks for the inspiration ... my muse decided to visit me today. . .




Hell To Pay
part VIII
by Trisha





He woke and found the lights dimmed, dull. Loneliness surrounded him, inside. The window closed and curtained. The chair in the corner was occupied by a shadow. A sense of relief invaded his mind. She was back, she hadn't left. So afraid that she would, for he remembered that they had fought earlier. He had started it, causing her to leave, angry and upset. He knew that she could never do what he accused her of, but he was in so much pain. Confusion reigned in his brain.

As he slept, he remembered that it was her presence, her voice, her being here that kept him from crossing over. The light which had invaded his mind was serene and beckoned him to come. He wanted to go, but something held him back. Something that was not finished. It wasn't a something, he realized, but a someone. Her. She didn't want him to leave and he needed to know why. He looked over at her and realized that his feelings for her, ran deep, deeper than just an old childhood friendship.

"Parker," he croaked," I'm sorry."

She leaned forward in the chair and looked him in those big brown eyes of his. She still saw confusion and yet there was something else mixed in with them. A twinkle of the old Jarod.

"I know. After all the times that I've threatened you, I really am not surprised that you would wonder if I did. Do you remember anything, besides being at the Centre?"

"Flashes. Bits and pieces. I can't put it together. Scrambled up. Old memories, though. You. Me. Yet, I remember hearing ... you telling me to fight. Why?"

She blushed, slightly, thanking God that the room was dark and that he could not see it. So, there was something to that, that comatose patients could hear things said to them. Thankful that he couldn't read her mind and the things that had invaded it while he was unconscious, she nodded her head.

"Why, what?" she said trying to evade answering, still unsure of the answer herself.

"If I had died, then you'd be free," he whispered.

"No, never free. They'd have me find the boy. I won't do that."

"Why?"

"God, you sound like a three year old. Is that all you can ask me, is why?"

"No, how about I'm thirsty?" he smiled. He watched her reach for the cup with the ice chips and plastic spoon from the nightstand. Scooping out one, she held it to his lips, watching it slip off and into his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the coldness.

"More?"

He nodded and she spoon fed him another.

"Parker?" he looked at her.

"What?"

He laughed, then grimaced.

"It's true," he said, as she turned her head at his response," It only hurts when I laugh."

"Get some sleep, Jarod," she said as she pulled the sheets up around him and he closed his eyes.

"Stay?" he murmured, as his hand sought hers.

She leaned back in the chair and drifted in and out, hopefully he would regain his memory of the events that lead him to this particular place in his life. Yet what if he didn't, they had not discussed what he did remember. Next time he woke up she'd ask him if he knew what day it was. That in itself would give her a clue as to where they stood.

An unexpected noise startled her, fully alert, she glanced around the room, unsure of what she'd see.

Looking at the prone figure on the bed, she noticed that he was tossed, turning and murmuring, as well as grimacing in pain. Reaching out to soothe him, her hand recoiled. Reaching again, she pressed her hand firmly to his forehead. He was burning up. Pressing the call button on the side of the bed, she waited for one of the nurses to respond.

"You buzzed?" a nurse asked, entering the room, advancing toward Jarod.

"He's burning up and thrashing about. I'm worried," Parker waited as the nurse checked him.

"He's got a fever, that's for sure. 104f. I need to get a hold of the doctor, but he left instructions to start him on antibiotics, if the need arose. He may have an infection." She looked at Parker and saw the worry in those tired blue eyes, " I'll be right back."

Parker went into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with a cool wet wash cloth, sitting on the edge of the bed, she wiped down his face before placing it on his forehead.

"Shhhhhhhh," she murmured, as she caressed his cheek.

"Love you," he mumbled before he turned his head and drifted off to sleep again.

Stunned, she sat and stared, dumfounded.





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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.




Hell To Pay
part IX
by Trisha






"Parker," murmured Jarod, his brown eyes glazed and unfocused, "love you."

She sat as still as a stone statue, shell-shocked was the best way to describe it. Inhaling deeply, she placed a cool hand on Jarod's cheek, his skin was warm and wet.

"Jarod," she whispered.

"Parker, is that you? You're all right. Lyle said . . ." he gasped for air.

"Never mind, what Lyle said. You need to be quiet, you have a fever. Rest, please."

She watched him close his eyes, turning away from him, she moved off the bed and looked out the window at the setting sun. The sky was golden pink with a dab of purple, sort of like the inside of a conch shell. Parker realized that she would have to return to the Centre soon, yet she could not leave him in the condition he was in. If only there was someone that she could turn to. Someone to trust.

Making her way to the corridor, Parker caught sight of Detective Martin, Jarod's partner.

"Guard duty?" Parker raised an eyebrow, "Any word on Carter."

"Yes, to the first question. As for Carter, he seems to have disappeared, but we will find him."

"Hopefully, before I do," Parker muttered as she made her way to the pay phone, located in the waiting room of the intensive care unit. Picking up the receiver, she hoped that what she was about to do was the right thing.

"This is Sydney," came the reply.

"Syd, any news on Carter," she asked.

"Broots tracked him just outside of Rochester, then he lost him. How's . . ."


"He's got a fever and an infection, they started him on a harsh round of antibiotics. I need a favor."

"A favor, Miss Parker. What would that be?"

"I need to make an appearance at the Centre and I don't want to leave him. Do you know anyone that could stay with him a few days? Other than trying to find the Major . . ."

"How about Nicholas? I could call and ask. I can't make any promises, though. "

"Thanks, Syd," she sighed, wearily, "I appreciate it. A quick appearance and then I'll come back. I have a funny feeling that Carter is going come back for Frank Cavell. He wants justice regarding the death of his daughter ."

"That's not justice, Parker, that's revenge. Have you rested at all since this we got there?"

"On and off. I really need to get back. I'll check my messages in about an hour or so."

"Tell him to get well, will you, Parker."

"Sure, Syd," she smiled as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

****

TWO DAYS LATER THURSDAY MORNING

Streaks of light broke through the blinds of the hospital window, casting eerie shadows on the prone figure on that lay on the bed, Parker looked away momentarily, fighting the urge to scream. She was not use to him being so helpless, hurt and in so much pain. His body was ravaged by fever and infection, that he just couldn't seem to shake due to his weakened condition. Shaking her head of these thoughts, she made her way to the bathroom, quickly splashing some water on her face, then running her fingers through her hair, when she heard her name called. The voice, however, was not Jarod's. It was female, Detective Martin's.

"Hailey, just a moment," she replied from the bathroom. Emerging from the room, she found the detective standing in the doorway, a lost look on her face.

"It's not easy to see him like that, he was always so full of life. He loved to clown around, such a kid. Sorry, there's a young man here, claims that he's an old friend of Jarod's," she nodded toward the door," I had him wait outside, until I checked with you. Said that Dr. Green sent. . . ."

"Nicholas," Parker said, softly.

"Yes, Nicholas Stam . . . forget it. I'm lousy at names. Should I send him in?"

"Please," she breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God, Sydney and Nicholas.

A young man entered the room, and a sharp intake of breath was heard when he saw the figure on the bed. Looking from figure to Miss Parker, he walked over and extended his hand.

"Dad called me, and the minute he told me, I took a week off. He saved my life when those terrorists grab me and when that psycho almost killed me. I owe him. Is there been any change?" Nicholas was not looking at Parker when he made mention of her brother and did not catch the look of loathing that crossed her features.

"No, he seems to have shut down. I need to get back to the office and then I should be back by the end of the week. I'll go and freshen up at Jarod's condo, then I will return here and give you the key. That way you won't have to check in to a hotel. I'm sure he won't mind."

"That's fine by me. Detective Martin here, said that she would fill me in as soon as her relief showed up," Nicholas took a seat on the chair located on the right side of the bed.

"I’ll be back in about four. I need to sleep before driving back to Delaware," she stifled a yawn," I'm not one to thank people, but Nicholas, I do thank you."

"Go rest, Miss Parker, or my father will have my head," the young man flashed a smile, then pulled out a book from the duffle bag, he had brought with him." I have my book and good company, if and when he wakes. Jarod and I have somethings to discuss regarding my father."

"Not if, Nicholas, but when," she glanced at the figure," I have a few things to discuss with him, myself."




Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com

Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Song : If I'm Not In Love by Constant Change sung by Faith Hill




Hell To Pay
part X
by Trisha





Parker wrapped the leather coat around her, as she walked back to Jarod's apartment. She had left him in good hands, with Detective Martin on duty and Nicholas staying with him for the next few days, she didn't need to worry. What she really did need to do though is make an appearance at the Centre and report that the leads that she followed regarding the Major and boy had been dead ends.

The funny thing about this whole situation, she thought, as she inserted the key into the lock was that instead of taking him back, she was protecting him. Why, seemed to rattle around in her head. He drove her crazy, the innuendoes, the half truths, the smug cocky attitude, so why in the world did she care. She wasn't going to go down that road, as she tossed her coat across the chair, then her eyes fell on the red notebook that she first found when she visited this place.

Newspaper clippings regarding Thomas's death, the arrest of the drug addict accused of killing him, the report from the morgue, and finally the accident report that killed the detective that was working the case. She knew that the addict arrested has been given a rather high grade drug and it was only available with connections. Jarod, himself, told her about the drug, after conducting the autopsy. He fed her small snippets, which irked her to no end, but when she found the body stuffed in the truck of the car, all loyalty to the Centre had evaporated.

What was it she told Jarod over the phone, "I'll go on with my life, pretend nothing has happened and then when they least expect it I will get my revenge?" The last page he had filled in was a series of letters and numbers, vaguely familiar to that used by the Centre. He must have uncovered something, and planned on leaving a trail of crumbs. Sometimes she felt like Gretel, hoping that the birds didn't peck at the crumbs before she was able to gather them up. Copying the last page on a sheet of paper, Parker figured that perhaps Broots could run them through the centre's mainframe. This time, she had all the crumbs.

Taking the dsa case and all of Jarod's notes, she stored them in his duffel bag and placed then in the back of the closet, hopefully out of Nicholas' sight. It just wouldn't do for him to find these, not yet anyway. Heading up to the loft, she peeled the clothes off her body, dropping them as she entered the bathroom. A warm shower, a few hours sleep, then she would drop the key and address off at the hospital, check on Jarod's condition then return to the cesspool.

************************************************

CENTRE

Broots ran the search, again. How in the hell could one man just disappear? He walked into a motel office, booked a room then vanished. Not a trace. He had to be missing something, some tiny detail that was so minute that no one gave it a second thought.

Picking up the file on Wayne Carter, Broots reviewed the information, regarding this man's history. Married, a widower of ten years, when his wife was killed by a drunk driver, he raised his daughter in the small town and made a good living as the owner of the local cider mill and bottled water plant. He enjoyed the outdoors, camping, fishing and, wait a minute, there, how the hell did they miss that, Carter's brother. He lived in North Carolina, and was a member of the local Militia, damn, Broots thought. That lead in Rochester was nothing but goose fodder for the police. Carter was heading down south, and Miss Parker was right, he had every intention to come back up north. Perhaps not to finish off Jarod but to seek retribution for his daughter's death against Frank Cavell. God, there would be hell to pay, as far as she was concerned. Securing the information in his computer with a separate pass word, a voice in front of him startled him.

"Any word from my sister?"

"Aaaaa, Mr. Lyle. She's due back late tonight. Sydney talked to her earlier."

"So why the hell didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because Miss Parker had nothing to tell you, Lyle," the voice from behind Broots said, coolly.

"Until the triumvirate says otherwise, I'm still in charge. Next time you talk to her, tell her, she answers to me," he turned and walked away.

"No gentlemen, she answers to me," a voice emerged from the shadows, that belonging to Mr. Cox. He stared at the men, his blue eyes piercing them with a cold-hearted stare, his gloved hands fisted together," As soon as she returns. Her last name maybe Parker, but she still answers to the triumvirate, and at the moment, that's me." Mr. Cox left them to wonder and worry.

"She's right, Syd. He's the grim reaper. You had better ..." Broots stopped himself, as Syd shook his head.

"Not here, Broots, not here."

*********************************

Wrapping Jarod's robe around her, she settled herself on the bed, intent on sleeping for at least a good four hours. She was exhausted, yet echoing in her mind were the words that she didn't want to acknowledge. "Love you, he had said. Not once, but twice and the second time, he said her name. Don't go there, Parker. She chided herself. That would be like opening the floodgates on the dam, not a very good idea. For heaven sakes this was Jarod. Reaching for the CD player's remote, she hit the play button. She needed to unwind, and there was no liquor in the place, so perhaps some music to relax too. Closing her eyes, she pulled the comforter up around her, nestling her head in the pillow when the gentle strains of the keyboard accompanied by soft vocals filled the room.

If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going through, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm not in love with you

And if I don't need your touch
Why do I miss you so much, tonight
If it's just infatuation
Why is my heart achin'
To hold you forever
Give a part of me I thought I'd never
Give again to someone I could lose
If I'm not in love with you

Oh why in every fantasy
Do I feel your arms embracing me
Like lovers lost in sweet desire
And why in dreams do I surrender
Like a little baby
How do I explain this feeling
Someone tell me

If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going though, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Why do I go crazy
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm no in love with you

She hugged the pillow, tightly as she slipped in to a dream filled sleep.



Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com

Disclaimer is in part one. . .don't own them just miss them so here is the long awaited part of Hell to Pay.
I have to thank Niceole for the insights and suggestions that made this piece what it is. . .she has become my muse in a sense. . .Rated PG-13, Spoilers this season, J/MPF




Hell To Pay
part XI
by Trisha





Broots ran the check again. Then a third time. How the hell did he miss that? God! Miss Parker was going to kill him for missing something so obvious. Carter slipped past the police and made it to the compound that his brother lived on with other members of the militia.That was a given. What he had missed was that this militia group was Centre backed for training assassins. Did Carter's brother have any knowledge regarding Centre activities such as Jarod? Glancing over his shoulder, Broots began to access the militia's computer mainframe, any and all information regarding the centre would be of vital importance. He needed to find out who their contact at the Centre was, then he would have something to pass along to Miss Parker. He needed to make sure that there were no trails leading back to the Centre. He routed all the information from this search to a database on the web. Searching for the Centre's prized Pretender had taught Broots a thing or two about secrecy. Never ever let the enemy know what you know. The sound of voices in the hallway alerted him to the dangerous position he would be in if found with this case sensitive material in his possession. Quickly accessing the latest leads that the Centre had on the Major and clone, Broots released his breath as the Chairman, his son and Mr. Cox entered the room. Lyle's importance in the Centre seemed to end when his father returned with what seemed to be his right hand man-Cox. Ever since the birth of the baby, the demise of Mutumbo, and Brigette's betrayal and subsequent death in childbirth, Mr. Parker had gained a great deal of respect from triumvirate members.

"So, Broots, what's the latest regarding the Major and the clone?" Mr. Lyle asked, that sadistic smile on his face.

"Nothing, Mr. Lyle," he stammered and he tightened his shoulders as they came to stand around him. Ever since he had been cornered by Mr. Cox in the men's room, being in the same room with the man, caused Broots to break out in a cold sweat.

"Well keep looking," the Chairman said," Where's Angel?"

"Returning later this evening, Mr. Parker," the voice was that of Sydney's.

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the gathering, as Lyle pulled it out of his jacket pocket. His facial features twisting in anger at whatever had been revealed to him on the other end.

"If you will excuse me, it's important," Lyle turned and walked toward the elevator.

******

Parker had returned to the hospital with the keys to Jarod's apartment and the address written out on a sheet of paper for Nicholas. Strolling down the corridor she was greeted by Detective Fellows.

"Detective," she smiled.

"Miss Parker," he returned the grin, and watched her walk into the ICU unit. She turned around and looked him in the eyes.

"I have to return to work for a few days but then I'll be back and hopefully with news regarding Carter's whereabouts. He's going to pay for what he did."

One tough lady, he thought as he watched her turn back toward the double doors, and not one he'd want to met in a dark alley.

As she opened the door to Jarod's room, Nicholas got out of the chair he had been occupying and excused himself. Jarod was sleeping, and in some ways he looked worse than when she left him, his head and shoulders were slightly elevated, and his face pale, instead of flushed. He opened his eyes and it took him awhile to focus, but once he did a small smile graced his features.

"Hi," he said.

"How you feeling?" What a silly question, she thought, once the words left her mouth.

"Truthfully?"

"From you, I'd expect nothing less," she returned the smile.

"I hurt. All over," he said with delibrate slowness.

"You know that I have to go back to the Centre," a frown crossed her brow as she watched his body tense at that," I said, I have to go back, not you."

He eased somewhat and she took a seat beside him on the bed, her hand on top of his, blue eyes boring into his brown ones.

"Who's the Magician, Jarod, and don't tell me its you? I unscrambled the letters, what I don't understand are the numbers."

"The Magician," he started to move his head, when a wave of dizziness took hold. He blanched and drew a sharp breath, not before he closed his eyes. He never increased the pressure on her hand, but she saw his other hand clench the sheets, tightly. Parker waited for it to pass, then asked again.

"Who's . . ."

"Someone in the Centre," he said as he tried to rise up from the bed," I remember that much. Parker, is Brigette dead?" She nodded her head, in the affirmative.

"Oh no, you don't," her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, pushing him back on to the bed," I've got to get going. You need to rest. Nicholas is going to keep you company until I return."

"Parker, wait," it was just above a whisper. She looked at his face. Waiting.

"Talk to Sydney about everything. No secrets, okay? You can trust him."

She gave his hand a squeeze.

"Get some rest. Get better, Jarod. I'll be back in a few days, promise."

"Then you have to promise me-no secrets. Talk to Sydney." He tightened his hold on her hand.

"If the Centre had this room wiretapped, I'd be a dead woman. Here I am holding hands with the man I'm suppose to bring back, for Christ's sakes." She looked him into his eyes, "But since you always seem to help me when I need it, I promise. Okay."

He relaxed and then released her hand.

"Good. Come back, soon." He closed his eyes and soon his breathing pattern was a steady rhythm that told her he was asleep. She left the room, a million questions swirling around her in her head. All of them, unanswered. Who was the Magician? And what was this person's involvement in Thomas' death? Hadn't that been settled months ago, when Brigette confessed to killing him. Orders not from the triumvirate but from inside the Centre. Maybe this Magician was the one that ordered the killing of Thomas. Seemed her return to the Centre was twofold. Find out the identity of the Magician and if there was a score to settle, she'd settle it. The other was to discover any information about Wayne Carter.

As Parker started to exit the double doors of the hospital, she glanced out and caught sight of a familiar black Lincoln sedan. Centre issue. Stepping back into the alcove, she reached behind her back for her phone.

"This is Sydney."

"What the hell is a Centre car doing here?"

" Broots discovered that Carter's brother belongs to a milita unit in North Carolina."

"Great! And?"

"It's backed with Centre monies, Parker. They train assassins there. Lyle got a call about three hours ago. If you saw a Centre car, it's Lyle. Broots tapped into the militia's mainframe and downloaded their records. Lyle's their contact."

"Damn! If he finds Jarod or myself here. . . ."

"I've called Captain Scott and told her that Lyle is a reporter for an out of town paper. Believe me, he won't get any information other than the fact that Wayne Carter is an escaped fugitive."

"So how does that protect Jarod?"

"Seems that Detective Snow isn't talking to anyone. Would compromise the trial, once Carter is caught Dectective Snow will testify. He'll meet with Lyle but. . ."

"Meet with Lyle! Are you crazy?"

"Parker, what name was Jarod using on this pretend?"

That question caught her off guard. The name, Jarod was using for this pretend. Collins. Detective Jarod Collins is what it said on his chart. Not Dectective Snow. A chuckle escaped her lips.

"Parker!"

"Snow huh, as in snow job, Syd."

****

After talking to Captain Scott, Parker learned that Lyle had paid the woman a visit, trying to glean any information he could regarding Carter's whereabouts and his residence. Captain Scott informed Lyle that the officer involved in the shooting was under protective custody for safety reasons, but that she would arrange a meeting once she verified his creditals with the newspaper he represented. As for his residence it was only accessible to authorized personnal, press excluded.

Parker's intution told her that Lyle was not to be trusted, that he would not leave the area so easily. Another call to Broots, and hospital records where dummied as to the injuries Detective Snow had received. Returning to the hospital's foyer, Parker stabbed a manicured finger on the elevator's up button, waiting impatiently for the doors to open. On the ride up to the ICU unit Parker comtemplated her actions. One word summed it up-Magician. She needed that information and Jarod was the only one that had any idea as to that person's identity and agenda. When she walked into Jarod's room, he was awake and more alert than earlier, the antibiotics working their magic. It hit her just how glad she was to see that he was doing well, yet a pang of jealous accompanied the feeling. Nicholas and he had been engaged in an animated conversation that suddenly stopped when she entered.

"Has it been a few days already?" he quipped," Man, I'm sicker that I thought."

"Smart ass! You're looking better."

"So the reason for the return visit?" he quiered.

"Lyle's in town," she replied, her whispered words echoing in the small room, loudly.

"And?"

"Has your fever returned?" she approached the bed and reached out a hand for his forehead.

"Captain Scott already called. Go back to Blue Cove, Parker, I'll be fine."

"Tell me something I believe," the sarcasm dripping.

"Believe me, I have an entire police force looking out for me and a fine babysitter, here in Nicholas." he grinned as he took her hand in his.

"So now I'm a glorified babysitter, am I?" Nicholas laughing.

"I'm still not convinced," she eyed the two men suspiciously.

"We could sign an oath in blood," Nicholas said looking from Jarod to Parker.

"Oh God, you've corrupted him already. What will I tell Sydney?" she smiled as she headed for the door.

"The truth, Parker. You promised," his tone urgent.

Parker paused in the doorway and studied the two men and then shook her head as the door closed behind her.




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Disclaimer is in part one. . . .spoilers to come. . . . .be warned. . . . .PG-13
Andrew is my invention. . .






Hell To Pay
part XII
by Trisha





Parker eased her tired body into the seat on the plane, and closed her eyes. Leaving Jarod alone with Nicholas was one thing but with Lyle snooping around and the fact that Carter was connected to the Centre bothered her.

She should be bringing him back to the Centre in shackles, instead of letting him recuperate in a hospital bed, but the fact that he learned more about Thomas's death was the one of the many reasons she wasn't turning him in. The only problem was that she really didn't want to analyze all the other reasons why. Fear of the truth prevented her from admitting the real reasons, not only to herself but even to him. He wasn't sitting on this plane, handcuffed, because . . . .an incessant beeping from a passenger's pager interrupted her train of thought, bringing her back to the realization that she had almost lost him. It was too much to deal with at the moment, it wasn't like he could defend his actions or his thoughts over the last few days, hell he hadn't been lucid half the time. He probably didn't even remember saying those two words to her. Two words she wanted to forget, only because those words were becoming synonymous with death when connected to her. Damn him, she thought until she glanced at the card that informed the passengers of the inflight movie and smiled. Ever After, what the hell she thought? She had enjoyed seeing it with Debbie, and she slipped the earphones into her ears.

***

Lyle stormed out of the police station in a huff, Andrew at his heels.

"I don't need you breathing down my neck, so back off," Lyle sneered at the sweeper.

"YOU dragged me on this little expedition, sir. I was suppose to be in North Carolina testing the latest group of recuits."

"The recuits can wait. I need to find that moron, Carter. If those ledgers fall into the wrong hands, the entire operation is doomed. It'll be very hard to take control of the Centre without loyal followers, Andrew. Renewal wing is but a temporary vacation. Death, Andrew, is permanant. I need those damned ledgers. I have no idea what possessed Caleb to send those ledgers to his brother."

"He was worried about the crack down by the feds and you know that. After what happened in Georgia, earlier this year, he didn't want to take any chances. Sending them to his brother was the smartest thing he could have done. Dumbest thing was Wayne going postal. . . .didn't he realize that justice would have been served."

"He lost his daughter, Andrew. He snapped . . . .it happens. I wonder if he's developed a taste for blood now. Once you kill someone the urge to do so again gnaws at you until you act on it," Lyle looked over at the sweeper, who was nodding his head in acknowledgment.

"So what do we do now, Mr. Lyle? We'll only draw attention to ourselves if we stay here. And from the reception we received from that Captain Scott, I'd say that leaving is for the best. We don't need to draw anymore attention to this than there already is."

"Very true. And I don't need the lab-rat to show up and discover those ledgers, or God forbid my sister," his voice was castic," Home to Blue Cove, Andrew."

***

She exited the plane and made for the rental booth, knowing that Broots wouldn't let her down and that a car would be waiting for her. Entering the airport teminal, she was greeted by Syndey instead.

"Syd?"she looked around waiting for the the second stooge to show up.

"So, how was he?" his voice low and full of concern.

"Showing signs of improvement, his cocky attitude was beginning to emerge when I left. He still has trouble remembering things in chronological order but he's mending," she broke off the conversation, then looked Sydney directly in the eyes," We need to talk, Syd. Do we have time before heading into the lion's den?"

"I'll make time, Miss Parker."



TBC



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