Hell To Pay by Trish
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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com
Oh Niceole- HAPPY BIRTHDAY! For you.
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Feedback please ! Ractrish@aol.com
