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Disclaimer: Although the individual story ideas are mine, the characters are not and nor is the central concept of The Pretender. They belong to TNT, MTM and NBC productions, as well as the fertile imaginations of Craig Mitchell and Steven Van Sickle.

Original characters are mine and I would beg you not to use them without my permission.


Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 1


“Freedom is nothing else but a chance to do better.”
Albert Camus


Entrapment

April 14, 2000
Jarod stared at the gray cement wall in front of him until the door clanged behind him and he spun around in time to hear the bolts being rammed into place. The small trapdoor opened momentarily and a pair of eyes looked in, glancing once into his face before sliding away and disappearing as the flap was closed. Jarod turned back to the smooth, flat wall and, walking forward, placed his palms onto the cool surface. He gently leant forward until his hot forehead rested on the concrete. With an almost inaudible moan, he turned and allowed his back to rest against the solid support, finally sliding down until he was sitting on the floor of the room, his head resting on his arms and his legs pulled up to his chest.

The clothes he wore were nondescript and baggy. He pulled numbly at them, unbelieving of the fact that they existed. Finally he looked around the small room. A bed stood against one wall; a hard, ungiving surface, difficult for a guilty man to bear, let alone an innocent one.

The sink, a white and gleaming object, seemed out of place in the grayness. A toilet bowl stood next to it. It had once been silver but the years had tarnished the metal and it seemed to reflect the lack of color in the room.
Suddenly, as Jarod was about to hide his eyes from the starkness, a ray of light flashed in through the window and fell onto the floor at his feet. The light was reddening, showing the passing of another day. The clearly defined vertical lines made him shudder and he began to tremble, uncontrollably and violently. A feeling of nausea began to make itself felt and Jarod crawled on his knees over to the toilet and brought up the one meal he had eaten that day.

March 12, 2000

Miss Parker stood in front of the desk and threw the package down onto the flat, shiny surface.

“Another present from the lab rat.” Her voice was almost snarling but Sydney managed to detect the note of fear deep within it.

“Have you talked with your father?” Although it was phrased as a question, the statement required no real answer. The response was not verbal but a glance that warned Sydney away from the topic and from her private life, as she saw it. Sydney had often shaken his head in wonder at her ignorance, and at the fact that she had never worked out that life for people involved with the Centre was never private.

As he watched, she turned away and abruptly left the room. He turned back to his desk and picked up the package she had left on it. Sydney had no real hope that it would turn out to be a clue to Jarod’s location. Obviously Miss Parker had come to the same conclusion, or she would not have left so suddenly.

April 2, 2000
The doors burst open, announcing Miss Parker’s arrival into the Tech Room in SL-5 and he occupants looked up quickly before rapidly returning to their work. She walked over and stood behind Broots, who rapidly became increasingly agitated.

“Well, anything?”

“N...not yet.”

“God, Broots. There has to be something. It’s been three weeks and we haven’t heard anything.”

“But there isn’t anything!” His desire to make her understand made him suddenly articulate. “We’ve looked everywhere, even exploring new areas. There’s just no sign.”

“It’s not acceptable.” A new voice, hoarse and wheezing, broke into the conversation. “Failure in this task is not acceptable.”

Broots heard Miss Parker gradually draw in a deep breath before she slowly and deliberately turned to face the newcomer. “Well, unless you can come up with a better idea, failure or lack of success is just something you’ll have to put up with. After all, your most recent idea of bringing in Lyle and Brigitte didn’t appear to be very successful.”

“They were expendable, Miss Parker,” Raines wheezed, his fury making it more difficult than usual to speak. “And you’re expendable, too. Don't you forget that.”

Miss Parker stepped towards him and watched with a gleam in her eye as he instinctively backed away. “If you have a better idea, let’s hear it. Broots, here, is doing what he can, and I’m doing everything I can. Believe me, you’re not the only person who wants him back here.” She watched as he nodded slightly and rapidly walked away.









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