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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and used
without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Sleepless
by Chris H.
Parker, Broots and Sydney were all gathered around the computer, looking at the screen expectantly. Broots had pulled up a map of the Eastern seaboard and the search program was automatically zooming in on Washington D.C.
"Is he there?" Parker asked.
"Well," Broots began, a little hesitantly, "it's all we've got."
She grunted. "Great. I swear, if I get my hands on that bastard, I'll make him pay for all the shoes I've ruined chasing after him." She slapped Sydney on the chest. "Let's hit it."
Parker started for the exit, followed by Sydney.
Turning at the door, she said, "Broots, tell them to get the helicopter ready."
She and Sydney hurried outside and were on their way to the roof, when suddenly Lyle fell into step beside her. Parker rolled her eyes.
"What?" she snapped. "I'm in a hurry."
"So I see," Lyle replied.
"Was there anything you wanted?" she asked, annoyed.
"We have to talk. Something's happened."
Parker threw open the door to the roof and marched out, the sound of the flapping helicopter wings almost drowning out Lyle's protest. Sydney had the tact to head for the helicopter and leave the two siblings to themselves.
The wind catching in her clothes and ruffling her hair, Parker turned to Lyle. "What?" she shouted over the sound of the rotators.
"It's Dad," Lyle replied.
Parker didn't like the way her brother's voice sounded. She could feel the blood drain from her face. "What happened?"
"He's dead, Parker."
"What?" Her voice was suddenly far away and the noise the helicopter was making was barely noticeable to her anymore. For a few moments the world seemed to slow down.
"His jet crashed south of Philadelphia. No survivors."
Parker's eyes suddenly glistened with tears as she unconsciously covered her mouth with her hand.
The world was ending.
**********
The week that followed passed slowly, painfully. Arrangements for the funeral had to be made, but in old Centre-fashioned way, things were taken out of her hands and put into the hands of strangers.
Parker was in a daze for most of the time until the funeral and for a few days after. How could this have happened? How could she lose her father when she'd already lost her mother? Why was life so cruel?
And then she realized that she had never been able to hold onto the people she loved. They always left, one way or another. Most of them died or were killed, simply because of the lives they lived or the people they knew ... and loved. Tommy had been one of those people. Her mother had been one of them. And her father ...
Love had never lasted long for her. Some things just never changed.
Now, standing at her father's grave, she put down a single flower on the ground where he'd been buried two days before.
"Oh, Daddy," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I miss you."
She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears, knowing she couldn't. How often had she had to bury people she loved? The cemetery had become a second home to her.
"I'm sorry," a voice suddenly said behind her. It was a voice she knew very well and this was not the time she wanted to hear it.
She spun, pulling her gun from her holster at the same time. Furious, she pointed it at Jarod's chest. "This is *not* the time to play one of your fucking mind games with me!" she snapped. "I swear I'll kill you if you try."
"I'm not here to play games," he replied calmly, his arms raised in surrender. "I'm here to ..."
He trailed off, sounding as if he didn't even know himself why exactly he was there.
"You should've picked some other time to show up," Parker told him. "I'm in a bad mood."
"Understandably," he said. "I heard what happened."
His words brought back the memories of the last few days and suddenly the possibility of taking Jarod back in seemed to fade in significance. She lowered her gun, turning back to look at her father's grave.
"You always do," she said.
"I ..." His voice failed him. And suddenly the great genius, the person who could become anyone he wanted to be, a writer, a poet, a Pulitzer-winning journalist, seemed at a loss for words.
"Go, Jarod," she said simply, not looking at him. "I don't want you here. This isn't part of your life."
"It is," he said, his voice still that soft, gentle tone that made her want to make him hold her, instead of dragging him back to the Centre by his hair. "You're part of my life. And you're hurting."
"I always get hurt. It's part of *my* life." She still didn't look at him -- she couldn't. Jarod was the last person she wanted to see right now. She hated it that he always seemed to be there, somewhere in the shadows. She didn't need another stalker -- the Centre was enough, thank you very much.
"I know," he replied. "It's time that stopped."
She laughed bitterly. "Oh, Jarod," she said, reaching up to wipe a tear out of the corner of her eye. "Still quite the daydreamer, I see."
"You shouldn't have to live your life this way," he told her insistently. "You should be happy."
"I was happy," she said. "A long time ago. A ... lifetime ago."
He took a step closer. He could see into her soul and heart and knew what she was feeling. "And then they took away your mother. And they took away Thomas."
She nodded, so choked up she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
"I was happy once, too," he told her softly. "A long time ago. I can only remember fragments, images of that time. I see my mother sometimes, holding me, telling me stories."
He was close now, so close she could feel the warmth of his body and the smell the scent of his skin. It unnerved her.
"The Centre took away happiness," he went on. "Mine and yours. It's time we made them pay for it."
When he reached out to touch her and gently turned her around to make her face him, she didn't protest. She couldn't. He had a way of making her feel weak and vulnerable when she was with him. He had a way of making her feel like the little girl she'd been so long ago.
Jarod looked at her and she felt his eyes looking beyond the barriers she had struggled so hard to put up. Those dark eyes that made her feel so helpless and in need of comfort -- his comfort.
"Let's make them pay, Parker," he said softly, looking into her eyes in a way that made her want to follow him anywhere, be part of anything he did.
"Make them pay, Parker ..."
" ... them pay ..."
" ... pay ..."
Parker awoke with a start, her large nightshirt clinging to her body. She was covered in cold sweat. "Oh God," she breathed, reaching up to wipe over her face.
Another nightmare. Another day that started with horrific images burned into her mind.
"Shit," she muttered to herself, knowing that sleep was not going to be an option now. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. After a quick shower, she dressed in a simple white blouse, a pair of black pants and a matching jacket.
Parker left the house, heading for work.
It was five a.m.
**********
Jarod stood next to a tree, hidden in the shadows, looking on as she got in the car and drove off. He glanced down at his feet, sighing. For a few days now he'd been skulking around in her neighborhood, watching her get home late at night and leave again in morning, usually around five or six a.m. -- early, even for Parker.
Sometimes he stood at her window and watched her sleep, wishing there was something he could do to make the nightmares go away. She had to be so tired of them. He knew. Nightmares were his constant companions as well.
"Oh, Parker," he whispered. "Why can't we just be happy?"
He knew the answer, of course. Because the Centre will never let us be happy. They will never let us go, they'll never let us live our own lives.
Jarod leaned against the trunk of the tree and let his head fall back against the bark. He shut his eyes, remembering a time when he *had* been happy; when he had been loved by his mother and father, when such things as simulations and Pretends had not existed. It was a time long gone, part of a past he could barely remember.
He felt tears rise in his eyes, tears for Parker and for himself, tears for all the things they'd lost and for all the things they could never have. Tears for a future they both longed for, but that would never come.
**********
"You here already, Parker?" Lyle asked, an amused smile curling around his lips. "One of those nightmares again?"
She turned at him, furious and appalled at the same time that he knew about that. "Who told you?" she snapped.
"Why, sis, are you going to tell me you're surprised?" he asked tauntingly. With a wink he added, "The Centre knows more than you can imagine."
She felt the need to punch that smug expression off his face, but she managed to restrain herself -- barely. Daddy wouldn't approve, she knew. Speaking of which ...
"Where's Dad?" she asked Lyle.
"Not in yet." He was already turning away, but then he seemed to remember something. "Oh, before I forget, he wants the two of us to join him for dinner tonight."
Parker lifted her eyebrows curiously. "Why?"
"To spend some quality time with his family," Lyle replied dryly. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"
She gave him a mock-surprised look. "I thought you knew more than I can imagine."
With that she left, heading for her office. She felt tired and her head hurt. The lack of sleep over the last few weeks was getting to her. The nightmares were getting worse. The times she felt like just breaking down and bawling her eyes out were getting more frequent.
Parker was surprised to find Sydney sitting in her office. She stopped dead in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" she asked, a little annoyed.
"Another one of those nights, huh?" Syd asked sympathetically.
Parker sighed, suddenly feeling incapable of resuming her Ice Queen façade, at least for the moment. "Yeah."
"The nightmares?"
"Getting worse. Ever since Tommy's death ..." She broke off, not feeling in the mood to talk about it. Parker sat down behind her desk, massaging the bridge of her nose.
"It's normal," Sydney said. "The death of people we love always affects us."
"It's been almost two years," she replied.
"There's no time limit for mourning." Syd crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at her with soft eyes. "Do you still think of him?"
"Sometimes. But life has changed and Tommy isn't part of it anymore." She rested her head against the back of her chair and shut her eyes.
"He'll always be part of your life, Parker," Syd said. "You loved him. And people we love never leave us. They never leave our hearts -- or our thoughts."
Jarod left, she suddenly thought, wondering why he had popped into her head all of a sudden. Then again, she'd been thinking and dreaming of him often lately. Ever since they'd found Ethan.
But he never left your thoughts.
**********
Parker got home earlier than usual that night, feeling tired and empty. The family dinner was set in one hour and she didn't even know what to wear yet.
The house was dark, but as soon as she opened the door, she knew someone was there. She could sense it. "Oh, damn, not now," she muttered to herself. A burglar was the last thing she needed.
Still standing in the doorway and without turning on the light, she took her gun from her holster and cocked it. Suddenly the light next to the couch flickered to life and she saw a figure clad in black sitting on the sofa.
She aimed the gun at him. "I'll blow your fucking brains out for breaking into my house," she threatened in a low voice.
Jarod smirked. That damn smirk that *really* made her want to shoot him. He raised his hands. "I'm unarmed."
"I don't care."
"Now, now, Miss Parker, you wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, would you?"
"Watch me."
Jarod sighed, his expression suddenly turning serious. "I've been waiting for you," he told her.
The gun still aimed at his head, she narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"I wanted to see you," he replied simply. "It's been a while."
She laughed. "Don't tell me you missed me," she said, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and amusement. "Jarod, you know who I am and what my job is."
He shrugged. "I'll take my chances. Go ahead, call a sweeper team," he challenged, watching her with those brown eyes that saw past everything she tried to be.
They exchanged a long look, neither one moving for several moments. Finally, Parker lowered her gun. "Fuck," she muttered, cursing herself for letting him get to her like this. "You knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?" she snapped furiously. "Asshole."
The smirk was back. "Always your friendly self, I see." He got up from the couch. "How's your father? Business as usual back at the Centre?"
She put the gun back in the holster, giving him a glare. "Oh, spare me this shit. We've never been good at smalltalk."
"How are *you*?" he asked softly and for a moment she saw the little boy she'd met so many years ago in his eyes. The little boy who'd been her friend and her first love.
She went for the housebar and retrieved a bottle of scotch. "I've been better," she replied, pouring herself a glass. "Drink?"
"No, thank you." He came up behind her.
"How's Ethan?" she asked, putting the glass to her lips.
"Okay. He's with Dad."
She emptied the glass with one swift motion of her hand. The burning sensation that went down into the pit of her stomach warmed her a little, but afterwards she was left strangely cold -- a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Parker?" he asked softly.
"What?" She shut her eyes, trying to picture him standing there, without having to turn around. She knew she was making the wrong decisions, knew she should get a sweeper team here right now and tell Jarod to go to hell. But
she also knew she wouldn't do it and she knew that he knew.
Fuck.
"Have you ever been truly happy?"
She thought of the dream she'd had today in the wee hours of the morning and she chuckled, amused. "A lifetime ago," she answered and found it strangely ironic that they were having the same conversation she'd dreamed of the night before.
"Isn't it odd that the only time people are truly happy is during their childhood?" he questioned.
"That's because they don't know any better, then," she replied flatly. "I have to go take a shower," she told him, brushing past him without looking at him.
"Going out tonight?"
"There you go again, Jarod, prying around in things that are none of your damn business." She paused in the doorway, her hand against the frame. Without turning around, she said, "You better be gone when I get back or I'll drag your sorry butt back to the Centre and you'll wish you'd never come here."
And she was gone, just like that. Jarod looked at the glass she'd emptied a few minutes before. He let out a long sigh. "Take care, Miss Parker," he whispered. "Until we meet again."
**********
If there was one thing that the Parkers had always been good at, it was mimicking the perfect family. Tonight was no exception. When Parker arrived at the restaurant, Lyle and Daddy were already there. For a few moments she just stood on the other side of the room, watching them, trying to look unobtrusive.
A twisted psychopath and a man who wouldn't even be honest with his own daughter -- yes, this was going to fun! But, she thought sourly, there was no sense in putting it off any longer.
Smoothing the cloth of her dress, she began to cross the room. When Daddy spotted her, his face split into a big smile. "Angel!" he exclaimed happily.
Parker couldn't help but smile back. She remembered her dream last night and suddenly felt elated that he was here with her, safe and sound. The thought of losing him terrified her all of a sudden. And the truth was, she couldn't know when and where he'd leave her.
Because, she thought, her stomach clenching, love never lasted long for her.
"Daddy," she said, coming up beside him. She gently touched his shoulder. He smelled good -- like he always had. He smelled like home. "Sorry I'm late."
She sat down and spread the napkin out on her lap. When she looked up, *he* was standing there just outside the glass doors to the restaurant, his gaze resting on her. Looking just like he had looked tonight at her house when he'd stood before her -- the same questioning, mournful eyes, the same solemn expression on his face.
Parker shut her eyes and when she opened them again ... he was gone. Just like that. Perhaps, she thought, he'd never really been there in the first place.
"Parker?"
Lyle's voice made her shake herself mentally. She looked at him and blinked.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," she answered, glancing towards the entrance once more, knowing she wouldn't see anything there. "Nothing wrong." She smiled brightly. "Let's eat."
**********
Jarod stood outside the restaurant, looking in through the glass doors. He watched them sitting there together and wondered for a moment if she'd seen him when she'd looked up. He'd moved out of sight quickly and Parker hadn't reacted beyond frowning curiously at him.
It didn't really matter. Even if she had seen him, she wasn't coming out to get him.
Jarod buttoned up his jacket and stuffed his hands into the pockets, then started walking away from the restaurant, up the street, away from her.
What the hell was wrong with him? Was he some kind of masochist? Or just plain suicidal? She worked for the Centre, for Pete's sake! Her orders were to bring him back, dead or alive, preferably the latter. And here he went, breaking into her house and waiting for her to get home. He knew he should consider himself lucky that she had been in no mood to shoot him. Or to take him back.
And that was exactly why he'd gone there, he thought with a little sigh. Because something was eating her up inside. Because something had always drawn him to her. Because she and him were bound together, forever.
Jarod glanced back over his shoulder, knowing that he would never be able to walk away from this. From the Centre. From her. Not completely, anyway. Parker would always be part of him, no matter how much he tried to deny it and no matter how much she would hate the thought.
Jarod stopped suddenly, sighing heavily. He hung his head and stared down at his shoes, wondering if Parker was aware of that fact as well.
Suddenly he was torn from his thoughts and melancholy daydreaming by the feeling of a gun's muzzle in his back. He stiffened, in spite of himself.
And then he felt her move closer and heard her voice, right next to his ear, "Sloppy, Jarod." Her breath brushed against his skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his back. "You're getting careless."
He could feel the warmth of her body against his, he could smell the scent of her perfume, and to his horror he couldn't stop his body from reacting to this kind of contact with a woman whom, he was sure, every heterosexual, breathing male on the planet would have described as the personification of sex. Even after she'd stepped in front of him, her gun directed at his heart, he could feel her nearness.
"Parker," he said, gritting his teeth.
She grinned slyly, looking down at his crotch. "Why, Jarod, is that a PEZ dispenser in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
He turned a bright shade of red and spun around, embarrassed, trying in vain to hide his very blunt 'happiness' from her.
Parker chuckled. A deep, throaty chuckle that didn't exactly help the situation.
"Once in a while, Wonderboy, you still manage to surprise me."
"I could say the same thing about you," he snapped. "You almost gave me heartattack just now."
"Am I supposed to feel guilty?" she asked flatly. The gun was still pointed at his chest and in her eyes he could see the ecstasy of the hunt that had always been visible there in moments like this, ever since the chase had begun.
He straightened up, looking at her indignantly. The humiliation was gnawing at him and he would have liked to just vanish into the darkness, without having to look her in the eye again.
"You could stop poking your gun in my back for a change," he suggested acidly.
She laughed, amused. "Is there some other place you'd like me to put it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"How 'bout your holster?" he said.
She didn't move for several moments. Their eyes locked and finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she tore her gaze away and slowly placed her gun back in her holster.
Jarod let out a sigh of relief. "So, where'd you leave the rest of the family?" he asked lightly. "Does Daddy know you're having fun out here with me while he's inside, enduring the presence of your brother?"
"Fun, indeed," she snorted. After a moment she said grudgingly, "I said I had to go to the bathroom and climbed out the window." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Jarod raised his eyebrows, letting his eyes sweep over her perfectly defined body (don't go there, Jarod) which was dressed in a short -- very short, he noted with a hard swallow -- red dress. "You climbed out the window in *that*?" he asked.
"You'd be surprised *what* I can do in this," she told him with a slow, cryptic smile.
"I don't think I wanna know," he muttered, already feeling a certain tightness in his pants again, thinking of what exactly she could do in that dress. And, more precisely, without it.
"Don't worry," Parker said with a snort. "You're the *last* person I'd show it to."
"So, now what? Are you going to keep turning me on or are you going to get down to business?" he asked impatiently.
"I turn you on, Wonderboy?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
"No, I always get a hard-on this time of day," he snapped.
Parker chuckled again and he gritted his teeth frustratedly.
"Well, well, Jarod, such language. What kind of people *have* you been socializing with?"
"The wrong ones, obviously," he told her with a scowl. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be. None of which include the Centre, unfortunately for you."
He slowly started towards the dark alley ten feet away, keeping his eyes on her.
Parker reacted instantaneously. "Oh, no fucking way," she snarled. "You're not going anywhere." It took her a split second to take the gun from her holster, aim it at him and cock it. "Stop right there."
Jarod raised his hands, backing up into the alley. She followed, still aiming the muzzle right at his head. She maneuvered him against the wall of the building and suddenly he had no place to go. Parker's eyes gleamed triumphantly.
"Did you really think I'd let you get away two times in a row?" she asked.
"Well, actually ..."
She came closer, still. "It was stupid to let you go earlier this evening. I should have called a sweeper team then and there." She cocked an eyebrow and told him sweetly, "I won't make the same mistake again."
Suddenly, Jarod moved -- so quickly he caught her off guard. He took a step forwards, grabbed her wrist and spun her around so her back was against the wall. He pinned her against the cold, hard surface, using his entire body to keep her in place.
Their two bodies aligned and his right leg between hers, he leaned forwards to whisper in her ear, "Won't Daddy be wondering by now what his little girl is up to?" He grinned, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Fooling around with the very guy she's supposed to track down. What *will* he think of all this?"
Parker let out a cry of rage and tried to push him away, but he was stronger. The scent of her shampoo and the feeling of her body pressed against his this tightly almost drove him insane. For a moment he thought he couldn't breathe.
And suddenly she moved, using his distraction to turn the tables on him. Parker rolled him against the wall, pinning him against it, just like he had done with her. She was still holding the gun in her hand when she looked into his eyes with an amused, devilish twinkle in hers.
"Turnabout's fair play," she told him softly, giving him one of her famous Parker smiles.
Jarod's breathing quickened and he tried to swallow, but found it impossible. He wetted his lips almost nervously.
"Is this getting to you, Wonderboy?" she questioned. She pulled up her eyebrows curiously. Then she leaned forwards and softly breathed into his ear, "Or do you always get a hard-on this time of day?"
And suddenly Jarod couldn't stand it anymore. This was pure torture. Sweet torture, sure, but still torture.
Before she could object he pressed his mouth against hers, so hard it hurt. He felt her stiffen and go completely still for a second or two, until she suddenly started returning the kiss with such fierceness he thought for a moment she'd leave his lips bleeding.
Parker reached up, slipping her hand around his neck. He could feel her fingers in her hair, her tongue in his mouth, her heartbeat in his bloodstream and whatever had happened to them -- *between* them-- in the past seemed to blur and fade into unimportance, into nothingness.
It was Parker who broke away after what seemed like an eternity. She didn't move, but remained pressed against him, their faces only inches apart. He could feel her hot breath on his face. Jarod reached up and gently touched her soft, red lips with his thumb. He ran his index finger over her cheek, down over her jawbone, down her neck and her collarbone, without ever taking his eyes off her face.
Suddenly the glazed look vanished from her eyes and she stumbled backwards. "Goddammit!" she snapped. "Goddammit, Jarod!"
"Parker ..."
"Shit." She suddenly looked down at the gun in her hand and as if in trance slowly raised her arm to aim it at him. "I should shoot you for doing that. I should just blow your brains out."
Before he could answer, voices sounded through the night. A group of people was coming up the street, unaware of the two figures in the alley.
Parker's head jerked around and she listened for a moment.
And when she turned back, he was gone.
**********
Parker walked into her bedroom, slipping off her jacket. She tossed her gun on the bed, then undid the zipper on her dress and let it fall to the floor. She changed into a pair of slacks and a white sweater.
For a few moments she stood, looking at herself in the mirror. Slowly, she reached up to touch her lips.
And suddenly everything crumbled. The tears came to her in a sudden rush. With a strangled sob, she stumbled backwards and sat down on the side of her bed, covering her mouth with her hand.
It was difficult to breathe all of a sudden. She wiped at her eyes furiously, not caring if she smudged her make-up. "Fuck you, Jarod," she whispered angrily. Talk about making things complicated.
"Parker?"
Her heart almost stopped at the sound of that familiar voice. She jerked her head up and saw him standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt.
"Tommy," she whispered, her voice strangely strangled.
He smiled that smile she had always loved. "Hey," he said softly. Thomas came to sit next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't cry, Parker."
"I miss you," she told him. "So much."
Thomas looked away suddenly, his expression endlessly sad. "I didn't mean to leave you," he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear it. "I never meant to leave you."
Parker reached up to stroke his hair. She managed a painful smile. "I know."
Thomas turned to look at her again. His eyes were so deep and infinitely wise. "Do you think that we were meant to be, you and I?" he asked.
She said nothing. Destiny was something she didn't believe in. "I loved you," she replied as if that answered the question.
"You loved him," Thomas corrected gently, but his voice didn't sound accusing. Perhaps, in death, there was no room left for accusations. "You always did. He always had your heart, Parker."
Parker looked away, dropping her hand from his arm.
Thomas sighed. "You were happy with me. I know that. I know you cared for me." He looked at her and finished, "But you never loved me, not like you love him."
Parker managed to look at him. At the same time he began to fade away, slowly, quietly, but forever.
"Tommy?" she said, her voice a little panicky. "Tommy, don't go. Please."
"If nothing else, try to be happy for a while, Parker," he said with a soft smile. "I love you."
"Tommy!"
She sat up, shouting his name. Her breath coming raggedly, Parker looked around. She was in bed, dressed in a pair of black slacks and her white sweater. Her gun was lying next to her on the sheets.
She'd fallen asleep.
Parker reached up to smooth back her hair. She felt like crying.
And somewhere in the dark, Tommy's voice whispered, "He always had your heart, Parker. Try to be happy for a while."
**********
Scotch was just what she needed right now. She sat down at the table and
poured herself a glass.
Drinking alone, Parker. Not a good sign.
She didn't want to think about it. In fact she didn't want to think about anything, including dreams and Tommy and Jarod.
For the first time in years she wanted nothing more than a cigarette.
Forty minutes and who knew how much scotch later, Parker felt numb. Alcohol helped to push thoughts of unpleasant things to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, sometimes, it also managed to make her feel more than she wanted to. Tonight was one of those times.
Her head was swirling with images of Thomas. She remembered the way he had looked that time at the gas station when she'd first met him; the way he'd always looked in the morning, lying next to her, his hair all tousled and his face peaceful.
She didn't want to think about whether she'd loved him or not. She'd cared for him deeply, so deeply that she still missed him, two years after his death. He'd made her happy.
But, like so many things in her life, that time of happiness had not lasted long. It was the curse of loving her, she thought. People who loved her always died.
She stared at her glass. "To endings," she murmured softly, watching the light play in the last bit of scotch at the bottom.
**********
Sydney was on his way home in the car when his cell phone suddenly rang. Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached for it and automatically pushed the right button.
"Sydney?" he said.
"Have you ever done something you knew you shouldn't do?"
"Hello, Jarod," Syd said with a smile. It was good to know that his protégé was safe and well. Although something was apparently bothering him.
"I did something incredibly stupid today," Jarod said, his voice so soft that Sydney had to concentrate hard to understand him.
"Did you hurt someone?" Syd asked.
"Not physically, no." He heard the younger man sigh. "I just couldn't ... I wasn't thinking. It just happened."
"What happened?"
There was silence for a few moments. "I can't tell you," he finally said apologetically. "I just feel incredibly stupid and bad for letting it happen."
Sydney said nothing for a few seconds, being pretty much able to imagine what was troubling Jarod.
"Did you tell her about the way you feel?" he asked.
"How'd you ..." Bafflement was obvious in Jarod's voice. "No," he then said. "It's a little complicated. Right now, she'd probably shoot me if I got within one mile of her."
"You didn't ..." He let his voice trail off, leaving the left of the sentence unfinished. "Did you?"
"What--? No! No, I didn't ... force her to anything. I'd never do that." Jarod sounded a little stung that Sydney would suggest such a thing.
"I know, Jarod. I know you wouldn't."
"What should I do?"
Syd smiled, a little regretfully. This was one thing he couldn't help him with. "I can't tell you that, Jarod," he said. "You'll just have to figure that out for yourself. You're a Pretender. You'll do the right thing."
"Syd?"
"Yes?"
"I think I ..."
"Love her?" Syd suggested carefully.
There was a long pause and for a moment Sydney wondered if Jarod had hung up.
Then he heard the younger man's voice, sounding very troubled. "I don't know. She ... makes me do foolish things." Jarod paused, then said softly, "When I'm around her, I have trouble breathing."
A moment later the line went dead. Sydney tossed the cell phone on the passenger's seat, smiling.
**********
Sometime in the wee hours of morning, Parker awoke to a splitting headache.
A little overboard on the scotch, huh, Parker?
She opened her eyes and for a few moments she simply stared into the darkness unseeingly, wondering whether it was even a good idea to get up today. She still felt like hell. Thanks to that asshole, who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself. He had unnecessarily complicated things and he knew it.
With a grunt, she threw back the covers and scrambled off the bed. She slipped into one of Tommy's old shirts, leaving the two top buttons undone, and made her way down the stairs. Black coffee was exactly what she needed right now. She could have slept in, seeing as how it was her day off, but she knew that sleep would be impossible to find now.
When she got to the kitchen, her eyes fell on the phone. And for some reason she wondered whether he'd ever call her again. Would the phone ring in the middle of the night, would the line go dead without a goodbye, would he leave her puzzling over something he'd said ever again?
Or had that moment in the alley taken away her chances of ever finding out what he knew?
Parker put some sweetener in, put the spoon down on the counter and slowly made her way into the living room, sipping at her coffee.
Suddenly, she felt something touch her shoulder and it startled her so badly she dropped the cup, sending it crashing to the floor. She jumped back so as not to get burned by the scalding liquid.
Furious, she turned to see what -- or who -- was in her living room this fucking early. And without her permission, no less.
It was *him*, of course. She shouldn't have been surprised.
The gun, Parker. Go for the gun.
She didn't move. She just glared at him furiously and suddenly felt the irresistible urge to break his damn neck for doing it again. For breaking into her house and scaring the shit out of her. For being his usual pain-in-the-ass self. For thinking he had the right to come and go as he pleased.
The urge was so overwhelming that she actually lunged for him. She saw his eyes widen in surprise. When her fist connected with his jaw, she felt a surge of triumph go through her. Served him right, the little shit.
Jarod went sprawling, a surprised yelp ripping from his throat. He sat up, opening and closing his mouth to check if he still could.
"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded angrily.
"You break into my house, scare me half to death and think I'll invite you for coffee?" she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He didn't answer. His eyes suddenly went dark, clouding with something she couldn't define.
Parker went for the phone. "You're going back, Jarod. I'm not letting you get away again."
"Parker ..."
She dialed the Centre's number and put the receiver to her ear. As she waited for someone to pick up, she caught Jarod's eye. He looked ... almost defeated. And endlessly sad.
"Please don't," he pleaded. "I can't go back there. I won't go back. I'd rather die."
"Then you should have known better than to come here," she told him. "What did *you* think was going to happen? My job's to take you back, Jarod."
Suddenly a male voice answered at the other end. Parker opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
Fuck. How did he *do* it?
She slammed down the receiver.
"What the hell is the matter with you, Jarod?" she shouted, fury coming to her from nowhere. "If you're such a genius, why do you keep showing up here? That is so fucking stupid!"
"Because I just can't stay away!" he shouted. "Because I want the nightmares to go away."
All of a sudden, Jarod reached out and cupped her cheek. It set her skin on fire.
"And because I want you so much I can hardly breathe when I'm around you." His eyes suddenly shown with tears of pain and longing. "And it hurts so much."
She didn't move when he touched her throat and dragged his fingers over her flesh, leaving goosebumps along the way, down to where the soft curves of her breasts lay hidden beneath the fabric of Tommy's shirt.
In the back of her mind she could hear a voice telling her that this was the worst mistake she'd ever made, but it was drowned out by a surge of electricity that went through her when Jarod cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her hardening nipples.
It did hurt. It was a sweet pain, which, she now realized, had always somehow been there, buried deep within both of them.
God, she wanted him. She wanted to feel him inside her. Perhaps, subconsciously, she'd always wanted that.
Jarod slipped his hand inside the shirt, touching her bare skin. It made her gasp.
A few hours, she thought. Give us that. Let us escape from our lives, if only for a short time. Let us forget about death and lies and pain. About secrets and murder. About hunting and running. Let us be happy for a while. Let us find sleep for a while.
He swiftly undid the buttons, running his fingers down her stomach, leaving her shuddering.
Then he kissed her. His lips were warm and soft -- skillful. She melted against him, putting his arms against his chest, where she could feel his heart beat rapidly. She felt him hard against her and it aroused her even more.
Oh, God, this was stupid. But it felt so *right*. So ... unbelievably beautiful. Like him.
Jarod broke away, leaving her gasping for breath. He trailed kisses down her throat, past her collarbone. She felt his breath hot against her skin. When he flicked his tongue over her left nipple, she arched her back, gasping.
Parker fingered for his shirt buttons, undoing them masterly. Years of practice coming in handy, she thought, a soft chuckle escaping her.
Jarod looked at her, those dark, fathomless eyes of his burning. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied, a little breathlessly. "Lose the shirt."
He shrugged it off and it fell to the floor. Parker ran her hands down his chest, over his stomach, down to the bulge in his pants. The jeans button went undone and she pulled down the zipper. When she touched him, his eyes rolled back and his jaw strained.
This was just fucking crazy! For years he'd been running and she'd been following, and neither of them had ever had the courage to find out what it would be like.
It felt right. Unbelievably right. Perhaps it wasn't the best time or the best place, but definitely the best partner. In a world filled with lies and sorrow, making love to Jarod was one of the few things that made her feel truly alive. He'd come here, uninvited, but he was welcome to stay. Right now, even forever.
Jarod wiggled out of his jeans and tossed them aside. He was wearing white boxers underneath. Parker slipped out of the shirt and it landed on the floor next to his pants.
Jarod's eyes went even darker with desire. The way he looked at her, it aroused her more than anything other men had ever done to her.
Parker smiled slowly and ran her fingers over his flat stomach, down to where a fine line of hair disappeared below the waistband of his boxers, and finally she slipped her fingers inside his shorts.
He sucked in a breath. "Oh, God. Parker."
She kissed him again, knowing that if she happened to go to sleep in his arms, even now as the sun rose, the nightmares would stay a million miles away.
**********
Later, they lay on the floor, their heads resting next to each other and their bodies extending in opposite directions. They were both looking at the ceiling, and Jarod for his part, was watching the spots of light dance on the white surface. A ray of light fell on his torso and his boxers that he had put back on some time ago.
He found it strange, even a little dizzying, that they'd gone from being friends to enemies to lovers in such short time. She'd stunned him. Never had he thought that she could be so passionate, so fierce, and yet so tender all at the same time.
"I suppose ..." he began with a little sigh, not really knowing what he wanted to say. There really wasn't much left. He'd come here for reasons of his own and she'd taken him inside her for others. Perhaps for all the wrong ones.
Jarod turned onto his side propping his head up on his elbow. She had slipped back into her shirt, but had left the buttons undone, and now Jarod found that to be a little distracting. Still, he tried to focus.
"I suppose," he began again, "there isn't much sense in asking you to--"
"Don't," she said, looking at him, those blue eyes of hers pained. "Don't ask me. I can't. I'm serving a life sentence."
He nodded, a sigh escaping him. "I just thought ..."
"You think too much," she told him. "It's one of your worst faults."
Jarod cocked an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. When he reached out with his free hand and laid it on her stomach, he felt her tremble. Her skin was warm and smooth ... perfect. She was breathtakingly beautiful and for a moment he was afraid he might not be able to leave her when the time came.
Almost mesmerized, he watched her face as his long fingers drew circles around her navel. Her nipples hardened and she arched her back when his hand slipped lower, between her thighs.
"Jarod," she gasped.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. "No thinking required. For either of us."
She nodded, letting her eyes slip shut.
**********
Her head on his chest, Parker could feel his heart return to a slow, steady rhythm. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Jarod smelled musky, masculine and of absolutely mind-blowing sex. God, that man knew how to fuck.
Her lips curved into a slow, lazy smile. "You've got this Pretender thing down pat," she told him. "What wonderful talents you have."
He raised his head from the floor and looked at her, grinning that slow, sexy grin that she'd always thought she hated, because it drove her out of her mind.
"Would be wasted at the Centre, wouldn't they?" he asked.
"You're right, there are *much* better ways to put them to use," she laughed. "Your intuition is pretty much dead on."
He nuzzled her neck, laughter rumbling in his chest.
"Or," she added with a raised eyebrow, "you've been practicing. Laying 'em in the aisles, so to speak."
"You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?"
"No," she replied. It was his business and had nothing to do with here and now, and *that* was what was important. The here and now. "You can fuck your way through the entire Eastern seaboard for all I care. It's not important."
"Well, right now, I'm more interested in fucking you," he replied wryly, his hand moving down her back, coming to rest on her buttocks. "Though I probably wouldn't put it that crudely."
A low, throaty chuckle escaped her. "Well, for the moment, you'll have to be content with coffee."
She got up from the floor and picked up her shirt. Slipping into it, she gave him a slow, sexy smile. "Not that I mind your state of undress, but it might get a little chilly. It's up to you. What would you like for breakfast?"
Jarod scrambled to his feet and reached for his boxers which were dangling from the lamp shade.
How the hell did they get *there*? she wondered. He slipped into them and followed her into the kitchen.
"Toast, if you have any."
"Will Cornflakes do?" she asked, checking her mostly-empty cupboards.
He came to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. "You'd do," he replied lazily, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Again?" she asked. "Gee, give him an inch ... And talk about staying power."
"Tell me about him," Jarod suddenly said.
"Who?"
"Thomas."
Parker stiffened involuntarily. Dammit, why did he have to bring Tommy up now? This little adventure of theirs was all about not thinking, about forgetting, about keeping the nightmares away. He knew that.
"You knew him, Jarod," she replied, her voice a little cooler than before. "You knew him before I did."
It still hurt to think about that. Jarod controlled so much of her life. The fact that he controlled her love life as well made her angry.
"I don't know what he did to make you happy," Jarod replied. "I don't know about the little things that you loved about him. You should talk about him and remember those little things."
"Not today, Jarod," she said, dismissing the subject. "Today, I don't want to think about things I've lost."
"Okay," he replied, his voice so full of compassion it made her worry that perhaps this was going to far. "That's okay."
"So, now how about Cornflakes?" she asked, her voice a little shaky all of a sudden.
**********
The place was filled with light and smelled like cinnamon and apple. Parker looked around, then down at herself, and back up. Slowly the light drained away, revealing a room Parker had thought she would never see again.
Her mother's sanctuary.
Parker looked around, finding that it looked just the way it had looked when she'd been a little girl. There was a rocking chair next to the window and next to it a little table. There were shelves filled with books, mountains of books.
Parker walked up to one of the shelves and ran her fingers over the backs of the books. She smiled, tears shining in her eyes.
Suddenly she heard her mother's gentle, loving voice fill the room. When she turned, she saw Catherine sitting in the rocking chair. In front of her, sitting on the floor, she saw herself as a little girl, no older than nine or ten.
Catherine had a book open on her lap and was reading from it, looking up from time to time to smile at the little girl on the floor.
"'Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug," Catherine read. "'It's so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress. 'I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all ...'"
Parker smiled through tears, watching her mother and her younger self in happy times. It made her heart ache.
Quietly, almost as if she were afraid of intruding this private moment, Parker positioned herself next to her younger self on the floor, listening to her mother's voice that she had loved so much.
Catherine read, "Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, 'You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone.'"
Parker listened, mesmerized by her mother's voice, just like she'd been as a child. Then her mother looked up from the book and gave Parker a warm, gentle smile.
She put her hand on her now-grown up daughter's cheek. Parker covered it with her own, feeling very happy and safe here in this place, happier and safer than she'd felt in a long, long time.
After a moment, Catherine continued to read.
**********
Parker awoke, feeling more relaxed than ever. She could still smell the cinnamon-apple scent that had filled her mother's room. Her mother's voice was still with her, in her heart.
Parker opened her eyes, blinking. The bedroom was bathed in orange light. Sun was setting.
Only after a few moments, Parker noticed the soft breathing next to her and the arm on her stomach. She looked over to the other side of the bed. Amazing that he could go to sleep next to her, after all she'd put him through ...
She watched him, knowing that letting a sweeper team come here to collect him would be the right thing to do. But instead, she simply watched his face. In her mind's eye, she saw that same face against the pillow, the jaw muscle strained, his head thrown back, as he came inside her.
Suddenly, Jarod blinked and opened his eyes. He looked at her for several moments. Then, without a word, he pushed himself up with his arms and leaned over to kiss her.
Words had become unnecessary. They required thinking and *this* was all about feeling, experiencing, floating, drifting. No thinking required.
Jarod kissed her tenderly at first, then more fiercely, his tongue probing her mouth. He touched her, slipping his hand between her thighs. Those long, slender fingers of his were doing wonderful things to her, leaving her gasping for breath, as he moved closer. She felt him hard against her and ached to feel him inside her again.
Parker stopped thinking.
**********
The sun set and the hours slipped by, but the two people in the bedroom were oblivious to all of that. For them, nothing existed but the feeling of a warm body next to theirs, and tangled limbs among the bedsheets. Nothing but the experience of feeling safe and warm, if only for a little while.
Time was unimportant. Words were, too. And as darkness came and the night fell upon Blue Cove, Jarod and Parker sought solace in each other's arms, both knowing that all of this would end when the sun rose the next day.
Then the chase would continue. Life would go on, and this day and all that had happened between them wouldn't be part of their future. The Centre still stood between them.
Right here and right now, though, the Centre and the future were far away.
For a little while, they were happy.
**********
Parker stood, looking at the large complex. The Centre was all she'd ever known. It was more than a job. It was a prison, and would always be. Her mother hadn't wanted that for her.
"Parker?"
She turned at the familiar voice, almost as if she'd been waiting for him. Parker smiled. "Hello, Tommy," she said, walking over to him.
She took his outstretched hand and let him draw her into his arms. He smiled down at her. "Are you happy?" he asked her, looking into her eyes, wondering.
"I am now," she replied. "The nightmares are far away. At least for the moment."
Tommy leaned in to kiss her. Gently, he brushed his lips against hers. Parker shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again.
Thomas put his arm around her shoulders and together they turned their backs on the complex that was the Centre. He squeezed her arm gently.
"Go with me?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"Anywhere."
Smiling, she began to walk, slipping her hand into Tommy's. They left the
Centre behind them, never looking back. They were free; a word Parker had thought would never apply to her.
When she looked up at the man at her side after a few moments, it wasn't Thomas Gates walking next to her anymore.
It was Jarod.
**********
The sun never came. The next day started cloudy, with hard rain falling on Blue Cove. Parker awoke to the sound of the rhythmic pounding of the raindrops on the roof.
The other side of the bed was empty. Parker let out a deep breath, unsure what exactly to feel right now.
Eventually, she got up and headed for the bathroom. After a quick shower, she got dressed in one of her smart business suits, applied some make-up, making sure she looked her usual self when she got to the Centre. For some reason, she had the feeling that they would be able to see how she'd spent the last twenty-four hours -- and, more importantly, with whom. His touch, his kisses were forever imprinted on her skin, even if she was the only who could see them.
Parker went downstairs, stopping on her way to the kitchen. She looked around and suddenly let out a humorless laugh. It was so typical. He always came and went as he pleased, disappeared when she wasn't looking and after he'd left it was like he'd never even been there in the first place.
Even the broken coffee cup had disappeared from the living room floor.
He had vanished into thin air, just like he always did. Everything was just like it always was. Everything was back to normal.
Only this time, she'd spent the night without nightmares, without waking up drenched in cold sweat. This time, she'd slept.
Wherever he'd gone, he'd left having accomplished his mission.
**********
Jarod sat behind the wheel of a red Porsche convertible, wearing a pair of sunglasses. He was smiling. He'd left the rain behind hours ago and the sun was shining.
The radio was playing and Jarod was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove.
He was going to stop soon to grab some breakfast. Maybe at one of those little places along the highway that served high-calory, not-exactly-the-best-thing-for-your-cholesterol, dripping-with-fat plates of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. Maybe he was just going to buy some orange juice and donuts at the next gas station.
No matter what he had for breakfast, the day was going to be absolutely beautiful.
His smile widened.
Next stop, California.
**********
fin
without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
by Chris H.
Parker, Broots and Sydney were all gathered around the computer, looking at the screen expectantly. Broots had pulled up a map of the Eastern seaboard and the search program was automatically zooming in on Washington D.C.
"Is he there?" Parker asked.
"Well," Broots began, a little hesitantly, "it's all we've got."
She grunted. "Great. I swear, if I get my hands on that bastard, I'll make him pay for all the shoes I've ruined chasing after him." She slapped Sydney on the chest. "Let's hit it."
Parker started for the exit, followed by Sydney.
Turning at the door, she said, "Broots, tell them to get the helicopter ready."
She and Sydney hurried outside and were on their way to the roof, when suddenly Lyle fell into step beside her. Parker rolled her eyes.
"What?" she snapped. "I'm in a hurry."
"So I see," Lyle replied.
"Was there anything you wanted?" she asked, annoyed.
"We have to talk. Something's happened."
Parker threw open the door to the roof and marched out, the sound of the flapping helicopter wings almost drowning out Lyle's protest. Sydney had the tact to head for the helicopter and leave the two siblings to themselves.
The wind catching in her clothes and ruffling her hair, Parker turned to Lyle. "What?" she shouted over the sound of the rotators.
"It's Dad," Lyle replied.
Parker didn't like the way her brother's voice sounded. She could feel the blood drain from her face. "What happened?"
"He's dead, Parker."
"What?" Her voice was suddenly far away and the noise the helicopter was making was barely noticeable to her anymore. For a few moments the world seemed to slow down.
"His jet crashed south of Philadelphia. No survivors."
Parker's eyes suddenly glistened with tears as she unconsciously covered her mouth with her hand.
The world was ending.
**********
The week that followed passed slowly, painfully. Arrangements for the funeral had to be made, but in old Centre-fashioned way, things were taken out of her hands and put into the hands of strangers.
Parker was in a daze for most of the time until the funeral and for a few days after. How could this have happened? How could she lose her father when she'd already lost her mother? Why was life so cruel?
And then she realized that she had never been able to hold onto the people she loved. They always left, one way or another. Most of them died or were killed, simply because of the lives they lived or the people they knew ... and loved. Tommy had been one of those people. Her mother had been one of them. And her father ...
Love had never lasted long for her. Some things just never changed.
Now, standing at her father's grave, she put down a single flower on the ground where he'd been buried two days before.
"Oh, Daddy," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I miss you."
She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears, knowing she couldn't. How often had she had to bury people she loved? The cemetery had become a second home to her.
"I'm sorry," a voice suddenly said behind her. It was a voice she knew very well and this was not the time she wanted to hear it.
She spun, pulling her gun from her holster at the same time. Furious, she pointed it at Jarod's chest. "This is *not* the time to play one of your fucking mind games with me!" she snapped. "I swear I'll kill you if you try."
"I'm not here to play games," he replied calmly, his arms raised in surrender. "I'm here to ..."
He trailed off, sounding as if he didn't even know himself why exactly he was there.
"You should've picked some other time to show up," Parker told him. "I'm in a bad mood."
"Understandably," he said. "I heard what happened."
His words brought back the memories of the last few days and suddenly the possibility of taking Jarod back in seemed to fade in significance. She lowered her gun, turning back to look at her father's grave.
"You always do," she said.
"I ..." His voice failed him. And suddenly the great genius, the person who could become anyone he wanted to be, a writer, a poet, a Pulitzer-winning journalist, seemed at a loss for words.
"Go, Jarod," she said simply, not looking at him. "I don't want you here. This isn't part of your life."
"It is," he said, his voice still that soft, gentle tone that made her want to make him hold her, instead of dragging him back to the Centre by his hair. "You're part of my life. And you're hurting."
"I always get hurt. It's part of *my* life." She still didn't look at him -- she couldn't. Jarod was the last person she wanted to see right now. She hated it that he always seemed to be there, somewhere in the shadows. She didn't need another stalker -- the Centre was enough, thank you very much.
"I know," he replied. "It's time that stopped."
She laughed bitterly. "Oh, Jarod," she said, reaching up to wipe a tear out of the corner of her eye. "Still quite the daydreamer, I see."
"You shouldn't have to live your life this way," he told her insistently. "You should be happy."
"I was happy," she said. "A long time ago. A ... lifetime ago."
He took a step closer. He could see into her soul and heart and knew what she was feeling. "And then they took away your mother. And they took away Thomas."
She nodded, so choked up she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
"I was happy once, too," he told her softly. "A long time ago. I can only remember fragments, images of that time. I see my mother sometimes, holding me, telling me stories."
He was close now, so close she could feel the warmth of his body and the smell the scent of his skin. It unnerved her.
"The Centre took away happiness," he went on. "Mine and yours. It's time we made them pay for it."
When he reached out to touch her and gently turned her around to make her face him, she didn't protest. She couldn't. He had a way of making her feel weak and vulnerable when she was with him. He had a way of making her feel like the little girl she'd been so long ago.
Jarod looked at her and she felt his eyes looking beyond the barriers she had struggled so hard to put up. Those dark eyes that made her feel so helpless and in need of comfort -- his comfort.
"Let's make them pay, Parker," he said softly, looking into her eyes in a way that made her want to follow him anywhere, be part of anything he did.
"Make them pay, Parker ..."
" ... them pay ..."
" ... pay ..."
Parker awoke with a start, her large nightshirt clinging to her body. She was covered in cold sweat. "Oh God," she breathed, reaching up to wipe over her face.
Another nightmare. Another day that started with horrific images burned into her mind.
"Shit," she muttered to herself, knowing that sleep was not going to be an option now. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. After a quick shower, she dressed in a simple white blouse, a pair of black pants and a matching jacket.
Parker left the house, heading for work.
It was five a.m.
**********
Jarod stood next to a tree, hidden in the shadows, looking on as she got in the car and drove off. He glanced down at his feet, sighing. For a few days now he'd been skulking around in her neighborhood, watching her get home late at night and leave again in morning, usually around five or six a.m. -- early, even for Parker.
Sometimes he stood at her window and watched her sleep, wishing there was something he could do to make the nightmares go away. She had to be so tired of them. He knew. Nightmares were his constant companions as well.
"Oh, Parker," he whispered. "Why can't we just be happy?"
He knew the answer, of course. Because the Centre will never let us be happy. They will never let us go, they'll never let us live our own lives.
Jarod leaned against the trunk of the tree and let his head fall back against the bark. He shut his eyes, remembering a time when he *had* been happy; when he had been loved by his mother and father, when such things as simulations and Pretends had not existed. It was a time long gone, part of a past he could barely remember.
He felt tears rise in his eyes, tears for Parker and for himself, tears for all the things they'd lost and for all the things they could never have. Tears for a future they both longed for, but that would never come.
**********
"You here already, Parker?" Lyle asked, an amused smile curling around his lips. "One of those nightmares again?"
She turned at him, furious and appalled at the same time that he knew about that. "Who told you?" she snapped.
"Why, sis, are you going to tell me you're surprised?" he asked tauntingly. With a wink he added, "The Centre knows more than you can imagine."
She felt the need to punch that smug expression off his face, but she managed to restrain herself -- barely. Daddy wouldn't approve, she knew. Speaking of which ...
"Where's Dad?" she asked Lyle.
"Not in yet." He was already turning away, but then he seemed to remember something. "Oh, before I forget, he wants the two of us to join him for dinner tonight."
Parker lifted her eyebrows curiously. "Why?"
"To spend some quality time with his family," Lyle replied dryly. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"
She gave him a mock-surprised look. "I thought you knew more than I can imagine."
With that she left, heading for her office. She felt tired and her head hurt. The lack of sleep over the last few weeks was getting to her. The nightmares were getting worse. The times she felt like just breaking down and bawling her eyes out were getting more frequent.
Parker was surprised to find Sydney sitting in her office. She stopped dead in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" she asked, a little annoyed.
"Another one of those nights, huh?" Syd asked sympathetically.
Parker sighed, suddenly feeling incapable of resuming her Ice Queen façade, at least for the moment. "Yeah."
"The nightmares?"
"Getting worse. Ever since Tommy's death ..." She broke off, not feeling in the mood to talk about it. Parker sat down behind her desk, massaging the bridge of her nose.
"It's normal," Sydney said. "The death of people we love always affects us."
"It's been almost two years," she replied.
"There's no time limit for mourning." Syd crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at her with soft eyes. "Do you still think of him?"
"Sometimes. But life has changed and Tommy isn't part of it anymore." She rested her head against the back of her chair and shut her eyes.
"He'll always be part of your life, Parker," Syd said. "You loved him. And people we love never leave us. They never leave our hearts -- or our thoughts."
Jarod left, she suddenly thought, wondering why he had popped into her head all of a sudden. Then again, she'd been thinking and dreaming of him often lately. Ever since they'd found Ethan.
But he never left your thoughts.
**********
Parker got home earlier than usual that night, feeling tired and empty. The family dinner was set in one hour and she didn't even know what to wear yet.
The house was dark, but as soon as she opened the door, she knew someone was there. She could sense it. "Oh, damn, not now," she muttered to herself. A burglar was the last thing she needed.
Still standing in the doorway and without turning on the light, she took her gun from her holster and cocked it. Suddenly the light next to the couch flickered to life and she saw a figure clad in black sitting on the sofa.
She aimed the gun at him. "I'll blow your fucking brains out for breaking into my house," she threatened in a low voice.
Jarod smirked. That damn smirk that *really* made her want to shoot him. He raised his hands. "I'm unarmed."
"I don't care."
"Now, now, Miss Parker, you wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, would you?"
"Watch me."
Jarod sighed, his expression suddenly turning serious. "I've been waiting for you," he told her.
The gun still aimed at his head, she narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"I wanted to see you," he replied simply. "It's been a while."
She laughed. "Don't tell me you missed me," she said, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and amusement. "Jarod, you know who I am and what my job is."
He shrugged. "I'll take my chances. Go ahead, call a sweeper team," he challenged, watching her with those brown eyes that saw past everything she tried to be.
They exchanged a long look, neither one moving for several moments. Finally, Parker lowered her gun. "Fuck," she muttered, cursing herself for letting him get to her like this. "You knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?" she snapped furiously. "Asshole."
The smirk was back. "Always your friendly self, I see." He got up from the couch. "How's your father? Business as usual back at the Centre?"
She put the gun back in the holster, giving him a glare. "Oh, spare me this shit. We've never been good at smalltalk."
"How are *you*?" he asked softly and for a moment she saw the little boy she'd met so many years ago in his eyes. The little boy who'd been her friend and her first love.
She went for the housebar and retrieved a bottle of scotch. "I've been better," she replied, pouring herself a glass. "Drink?"
"No, thank you." He came up behind her.
"How's Ethan?" she asked, putting the glass to her lips.
"Okay. He's with Dad."
She emptied the glass with one swift motion of her hand. The burning sensation that went down into the pit of her stomach warmed her a little, but afterwards she was left strangely cold -- a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Parker?" he asked softly.
"What?" She shut her eyes, trying to picture him standing there, without having to turn around. She knew she was making the wrong decisions, knew she should get a sweeper team here right now and tell Jarod to go to hell. But
she also knew she wouldn't do it and she knew that he knew.
Fuck.
"Have you ever been truly happy?"
She thought of the dream she'd had today in the wee hours of the morning and she chuckled, amused. "A lifetime ago," she answered and found it strangely ironic that they were having the same conversation she'd dreamed of the night before.
"Isn't it odd that the only time people are truly happy is during their childhood?" he questioned.
"That's because they don't know any better, then," she replied flatly. "I have to go take a shower," she told him, brushing past him without looking at him.
"Going out tonight?"
"There you go again, Jarod, prying around in things that are none of your damn business." She paused in the doorway, her hand against the frame. Without turning around, she said, "You better be gone when I get back or I'll drag your sorry butt back to the Centre and you'll wish you'd never come here."
And she was gone, just like that. Jarod looked at the glass she'd emptied a few minutes before. He let out a long sigh. "Take care, Miss Parker," he whispered. "Until we meet again."
**********
If there was one thing that the Parkers had always been good at, it was mimicking the perfect family. Tonight was no exception. When Parker arrived at the restaurant, Lyle and Daddy were already there. For a few moments she just stood on the other side of the room, watching them, trying to look unobtrusive.
A twisted psychopath and a man who wouldn't even be honest with his own daughter -- yes, this was going to fun! But, she thought sourly, there was no sense in putting it off any longer.
Smoothing the cloth of her dress, she began to cross the room. When Daddy spotted her, his face split into a big smile. "Angel!" he exclaimed happily.
Parker couldn't help but smile back. She remembered her dream last night and suddenly felt elated that he was here with her, safe and sound. The thought of losing him terrified her all of a sudden. And the truth was, she couldn't know when and where he'd leave her.
Because, she thought, her stomach clenching, love never lasted long for her.
"Daddy," she said, coming up beside him. She gently touched his shoulder. He smelled good -- like he always had. He smelled like home. "Sorry I'm late."
She sat down and spread the napkin out on her lap. When she looked up, *he* was standing there just outside the glass doors to the restaurant, his gaze resting on her. Looking just like he had looked tonight at her house when he'd stood before her -- the same questioning, mournful eyes, the same solemn expression on his face.
Parker shut her eyes and when she opened them again ... he was gone. Just like that. Perhaps, she thought, he'd never really been there in the first place.
"Parker?"
Lyle's voice made her shake herself mentally. She looked at him and blinked.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," she answered, glancing towards the entrance once more, knowing she wouldn't see anything there. "Nothing wrong." She smiled brightly. "Let's eat."
**********
Jarod stood outside the restaurant, looking in through the glass doors. He watched them sitting there together and wondered for a moment if she'd seen him when she'd looked up. He'd moved out of sight quickly and Parker hadn't reacted beyond frowning curiously at him.
It didn't really matter. Even if she had seen him, she wasn't coming out to get him.
Jarod buttoned up his jacket and stuffed his hands into the pockets, then started walking away from the restaurant, up the street, away from her.
What the hell was wrong with him? Was he some kind of masochist? Or just plain suicidal? She worked for the Centre, for Pete's sake! Her orders were to bring him back, dead or alive, preferably the latter. And here he went, breaking into her house and waiting for her to get home. He knew he should consider himself lucky that she had been in no mood to shoot him. Or to take him back.
And that was exactly why he'd gone there, he thought with a little sigh. Because something was eating her up inside. Because something had always drawn him to her. Because she and him were bound together, forever.
Jarod glanced back over his shoulder, knowing that he would never be able to walk away from this. From the Centre. From her. Not completely, anyway. Parker would always be part of him, no matter how much he tried to deny it and no matter how much she would hate the thought.
Jarod stopped suddenly, sighing heavily. He hung his head and stared down at his shoes, wondering if Parker was aware of that fact as well.
Suddenly he was torn from his thoughts and melancholy daydreaming by the feeling of a gun's muzzle in his back. He stiffened, in spite of himself.
And then he felt her move closer and heard her voice, right next to his ear, "Sloppy, Jarod." Her breath brushed against his skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his back. "You're getting careless."
He could feel the warmth of her body against his, he could smell the scent of her perfume, and to his horror he couldn't stop his body from reacting to this kind of contact with a woman whom, he was sure, every heterosexual, breathing male on the planet would have described as the personification of sex. Even after she'd stepped in front of him, her gun directed at his heart, he could feel her nearness.
"Parker," he said, gritting his teeth.
She grinned slyly, looking down at his crotch. "Why, Jarod, is that a PEZ dispenser in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
He turned a bright shade of red and spun around, embarrassed, trying in vain to hide his very blunt 'happiness' from her.
Parker chuckled. A deep, throaty chuckle that didn't exactly help the situation.
"Once in a while, Wonderboy, you still manage to surprise me."
"I could say the same thing about you," he snapped. "You almost gave me heartattack just now."
"Am I supposed to feel guilty?" she asked flatly. The gun was still pointed at his chest and in her eyes he could see the ecstasy of the hunt that had always been visible there in moments like this, ever since the chase had begun.
He straightened up, looking at her indignantly. The humiliation was gnawing at him and he would have liked to just vanish into the darkness, without having to look her in the eye again.
"You could stop poking your gun in my back for a change," he suggested acidly.
She laughed, amused. "Is there some other place you'd like me to put it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"How 'bout your holster?" he said.
She didn't move for several moments. Their eyes locked and finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she tore her gaze away and slowly placed her gun back in her holster.
Jarod let out a sigh of relief. "So, where'd you leave the rest of the family?" he asked lightly. "Does Daddy know you're having fun out here with me while he's inside, enduring the presence of your brother?"
"Fun, indeed," she snorted. After a moment she said grudgingly, "I said I had to go to the bathroom and climbed out the window." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Jarod raised his eyebrows, letting his eyes sweep over her perfectly defined body (don't go there, Jarod) which was dressed in a short -- very short, he noted with a hard swallow -- red dress. "You climbed out the window in *that*?" he asked.
"You'd be surprised *what* I can do in this," she told him with a slow, cryptic smile.
"I don't think I wanna know," he muttered, already feeling a certain tightness in his pants again, thinking of what exactly she could do in that dress. And, more precisely, without it.
"Don't worry," Parker said with a snort. "You're the *last* person I'd show it to."
"So, now what? Are you going to keep turning me on or are you going to get down to business?" he asked impatiently.
"I turn you on, Wonderboy?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
"No, I always get a hard-on this time of day," he snapped.
Parker chuckled again and he gritted his teeth frustratedly.
"Well, well, Jarod, such language. What kind of people *have* you been socializing with?"
"The wrong ones, obviously," he told her with a scowl. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be. None of which include the Centre, unfortunately for you."
He slowly started towards the dark alley ten feet away, keeping his eyes on her.
Parker reacted instantaneously. "Oh, no fucking way," she snarled. "You're not going anywhere." It took her a split second to take the gun from her holster, aim it at him and cock it. "Stop right there."
Jarod raised his hands, backing up into the alley. She followed, still aiming the muzzle right at his head. She maneuvered him against the wall of the building and suddenly he had no place to go. Parker's eyes gleamed triumphantly.
"Did you really think I'd let you get away two times in a row?" she asked.
"Well, actually ..."
She came closer, still. "It was stupid to let you go earlier this evening. I should have called a sweeper team then and there." She cocked an eyebrow and told him sweetly, "I won't make the same mistake again."
Suddenly, Jarod moved -- so quickly he caught her off guard. He took a step forwards, grabbed her wrist and spun her around so her back was against the wall. He pinned her against the cold, hard surface, using his entire body to keep her in place.
Their two bodies aligned and his right leg between hers, he leaned forwards to whisper in her ear, "Won't Daddy be wondering by now what his little girl is up to?" He grinned, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Fooling around with the very guy she's supposed to track down. What *will* he think of all this?"
Parker let out a cry of rage and tried to push him away, but he was stronger. The scent of her shampoo and the feeling of her body pressed against his this tightly almost drove him insane. For a moment he thought he couldn't breathe.
And suddenly she moved, using his distraction to turn the tables on him. Parker rolled him against the wall, pinning him against it, just like he had done with her. She was still holding the gun in her hand when she looked into his eyes with an amused, devilish twinkle in hers.
"Turnabout's fair play," she told him softly, giving him one of her famous Parker smiles.
Jarod's breathing quickened and he tried to swallow, but found it impossible. He wetted his lips almost nervously.
"Is this getting to you, Wonderboy?" she questioned. She pulled up her eyebrows curiously. Then she leaned forwards and softly breathed into his ear, "Or do you always get a hard-on this time of day?"
And suddenly Jarod couldn't stand it anymore. This was pure torture. Sweet torture, sure, but still torture.
Before she could object he pressed his mouth against hers, so hard it hurt. He felt her stiffen and go completely still for a second or two, until she suddenly started returning the kiss with such fierceness he thought for a moment she'd leave his lips bleeding.
Parker reached up, slipping her hand around his neck. He could feel her fingers in her hair, her tongue in his mouth, her heartbeat in his bloodstream and whatever had happened to them -- *between* them-- in the past seemed to blur and fade into unimportance, into nothingness.
It was Parker who broke away after what seemed like an eternity. She didn't move, but remained pressed against him, their faces only inches apart. He could feel her hot breath on his face. Jarod reached up and gently touched her soft, red lips with his thumb. He ran his index finger over her cheek, down over her jawbone, down her neck and her collarbone, without ever taking his eyes off her face.
Suddenly the glazed look vanished from her eyes and she stumbled backwards. "Goddammit!" she snapped. "Goddammit, Jarod!"
"Parker ..."
"Shit." She suddenly looked down at the gun in her hand and as if in trance slowly raised her arm to aim it at him. "I should shoot you for doing that. I should just blow your brains out."
Before he could answer, voices sounded through the night. A group of people was coming up the street, unaware of the two figures in the alley.
Parker's head jerked around and she listened for a moment.
And when she turned back, he was gone.
**********
Parker walked into her bedroom, slipping off her jacket. She tossed her gun on the bed, then undid the zipper on her dress and let it fall to the floor. She changed into a pair of slacks and a white sweater.
For a few moments she stood, looking at herself in the mirror. Slowly, she reached up to touch her lips.
And suddenly everything crumbled. The tears came to her in a sudden rush. With a strangled sob, she stumbled backwards and sat down on the side of her bed, covering her mouth with her hand.
It was difficult to breathe all of a sudden. She wiped at her eyes furiously, not caring if she smudged her make-up. "Fuck you, Jarod," she whispered angrily. Talk about making things complicated.
"Parker?"
Her heart almost stopped at the sound of that familiar voice. She jerked her head up and saw him standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt.
"Tommy," she whispered, her voice strangely strangled.
He smiled that smile she had always loved. "Hey," he said softly. Thomas came to sit next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't cry, Parker."
"I miss you," she told him. "So much."
Thomas looked away suddenly, his expression endlessly sad. "I didn't mean to leave you," he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear it. "I never meant to leave you."
Parker reached up to stroke his hair. She managed a painful smile. "I know."
Thomas turned to look at her again. His eyes were so deep and infinitely wise. "Do you think that we were meant to be, you and I?" he asked.
She said nothing. Destiny was something she didn't believe in. "I loved you," she replied as if that answered the question.
"You loved him," Thomas corrected gently, but his voice didn't sound accusing. Perhaps, in death, there was no room left for accusations. "You always did. He always had your heart, Parker."
Parker looked away, dropping her hand from his arm.
Thomas sighed. "You were happy with me. I know that. I know you cared for me." He looked at her and finished, "But you never loved me, not like you love him."
Parker managed to look at him. At the same time he began to fade away, slowly, quietly, but forever.
"Tommy?" she said, her voice a little panicky. "Tommy, don't go. Please."
"If nothing else, try to be happy for a while, Parker," he said with a soft smile. "I love you."
"Tommy!"
She sat up, shouting his name. Her breath coming raggedly, Parker looked around. She was in bed, dressed in a pair of black slacks and her white sweater. Her gun was lying next to her on the sheets.
She'd fallen asleep.
Parker reached up to smooth back her hair. She felt like crying.
And somewhere in the dark, Tommy's voice whispered, "He always had your heart, Parker. Try to be happy for a while."
**********
Scotch was just what she needed right now. She sat down at the table and
poured herself a glass.
Drinking alone, Parker. Not a good sign.
She didn't want to think about it. In fact she didn't want to think about anything, including dreams and Tommy and Jarod.
For the first time in years she wanted nothing more than a cigarette.
Forty minutes and who knew how much scotch later, Parker felt numb. Alcohol helped to push thoughts of unpleasant things to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, sometimes, it also managed to make her feel more than she wanted to. Tonight was one of those times.
Her head was swirling with images of Thomas. She remembered the way he had looked that time at the gas station when she'd first met him; the way he'd always looked in the morning, lying next to her, his hair all tousled and his face peaceful.
She didn't want to think about whether she'd loved him or not. She'd cared for him deeply, so deeply that she still missed him, two years after his death. He'd made her happy.
But, like so many things in her life, that time of happiness had not lasted long. It was the curse of loving her, she thought. People who loved her always died.
She stared at her glass. "To endings," she murmured softly, watching the light play in the last bit of scotch at the bottom.
**********
Sydney was on his way home in the car when his cell phone suddenly rang. Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached for it and automatically pushed the right button.
"Sydney?" he said.
"Have you ever done something you knew you shouldn't do?"
"Hello, Jarod," Syd said with a smile. It was good to know that his protégé was safe and well. Although something was apparently bothering him.
"I did something incredibly stupid today," Jarod said, his voice so soft that Sydney had to concentrate hard to understand him.
"Did you hurt someone?" Syd asked.
"Not physically, no." He heard the younger man sigh. "I just couldn't ... I wasn't thinking. It just happened."
"What happened?"
There was silence for a few moments. "I can't tell you," he finally said apologetically. "I just feel incredibly stupid and bad for letting it happen."
Sydney said nothing for a few seconds, being pretty much able to imagine what was troubling Jarod.
"Did you tell her about the way you feel?" he asked.
"How'd you ..." Bafflement was obvious in Jarod's voice. "No," he then said. "It's a little complicated. Right now, she'd probably shoot me if I got within one mile of her."
"You didn't ..." He let his voice trail off, leaving the left of the sentence unfinished. "Did you?"
"What--? No! No, I didn't ... force her to anything. I'd never do that." Jarod sounded a little stung that Sydney would suggest such a thing.
"I know, Jarod. I know you wouldn't."
"What should I do?"
Syd smiled, a little regretfully. This was one thing he couldn't help him with. "I can't tell you that, Jarod," he said. "You'll just have to figure that out for yourself. You're a Pretender. You'll do the right thing."
"Syd?"
"Yes?"
"I think I ..."
"Love her?" Syd suggested carefully.
There was a long pause and for a moment Sydney wondered if Jarod had hung up.
Then he heard the younger man's voice, sounding very troubled. "I don't know. She ... makes me do foolish things." Jarod paused, then said softly, "When I'm around her, I have trouble breathing."
A moment later the line went dead. Sydney tossed the cell phone on the passenger's seat, smiling.
**********
Sometime in the wee hours of morning, Parker awoke to a splitting headache.
A little overboard on the scotch, huh, Parker?
She opened her eyes and for a few moments she simply stared into the darkness unseeingly, wondering whether it was even a good idea to get up today. She still felt like hell. Thanks to that asshole, who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself. He had unnecessarily complicated things and he knew it.
With a grunt, she threw back the covers and scrambled off the bed. She slipped into one of Tommy's old shirts, leaving the two top buttons undone, and made her way down the stairs. Black coffee was exactly what she needed right now. She could have slept in, seeing as how it was her day off, but she knew that sleep would be impossible to find now.
When she got to the kitchen, her eyes fell on the phone. And for some reason she wondered whether he'd ever call her again. Would the phone ring in the middle of the night, would the line go dead without a goodbye, would he leave her puzzling over something he'd said ever again?
Or had that moment in the alley taken away her chances of ever finding out what he knew?
Parker put some sweetener in, put the spoon down on the counter and slowly made her way into the living room, sipping at her coffee.
Suddenly, she felt something touch her shoulder and it startled her so badly she dropped the cup, sending it crashing to the floor. She jumped back so as not to get burned by the scalding liquid.
Furious, she turned to see what -- or who -- was in her living room this fucking early. And without her permission, no less.
It was *him*, of course. She shouldn't have been surprised.
The gun, Parker. Go for the gun.
She didn't move. She just glared at him furiously and suddenly felt the irresistible urge to break his damn neck for doing it again. For breaking into her house and scaring the shit out of her. For being his usual pain-in-the-ass self. For thinking he had the right to come and go as he pleased.
The urge was so overwhelming that she actually lunged for him. She saw his eyes widen in surprise. When her fist connected with his jaw, she felt a surge of triumph go through her. Served him right, the little shit.
Jarod went sprawling, a surprised yelp ripping from his throat. He sat up, opening and closing his mouth to check if he still could.
"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded angrily.
"You break into my house, scare me half to death and think I'll invite you for coffee?" she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He didn't answer. His eyes suddenly went dark, clouding with something she couldn't define.
Parker went for the phone. "You're going back, Jarod. I'm not letting you get away again."
"Parker ..."
She dialed the Centre's number and put the receiver to her ear. As she waited for someone to pick up, she caught Jarod's eye. He looked ... almost defeated. And endlessly sad.
"Please don't," he pleaded. "I can't go back there. I won't go back. I'd rather die."
"Then you should have known better than to come here," she told him. "What did *you* think was going to happen? My job's to take you back, Jarod."
Suddenly a male voice answered at the other end. Parker opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
Fuck. How did he *do* it?
She slammed down the receiver.
"What the hell is the matter with you, Jarod?" she shouted, fury coming to her from nowhere. "If you're such a genius, why do you keep showing up here? That is so fucking stupid!"
"Because I just can't stay away!" he shouted. "Because I want the nightmares to go away."
All of a sudden, Jarod reached out and cupped her cheek. It set her skin on fire.
"And because I want you so much I can hardly breathe when I'm around you." His eyes suddenly shown with tears of pain and longing. "And it hurts so much."
She didn't move when he touched her throat and dragged his fingers over her flesh, leaving goosebumps along the way, down to where the soft curves of her breasts lay hidden beneath the fabric of Tommy's shirt.
In the back of her mind she could hear a voice telling her that this was the worst mistake she'd ever made, but it was drowned out by a surge of electricity that went through her when Jarod cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her hardening nipples.
It did hurt. It was a sweet pain, which, she now realized, had always somehow been there, buried deep within both of them.
God, she wanted him. She wanted to feel him inside her. Perhaps, subconsciously, she'd always wanted that.
Jarod slipped his hand inside the shirt, touching her bare skin. It made her gasp.
A few hours, she thought. Give us that. Let us escape from our lives, if only for a short time. Let us forget about death and lies and pain. About secrets and murder. About hunting and running. Let us be happy for a while. Let us find sleep for a while.
He swiftly undid the buttons, running his fingers down her stomach, leaving her shuddering.
Then he kissed her. His lips were warm and soft -- skillful. She melted against him, putting his arms against his chest, where she could feel his heart beat rapidly. She felt him hard against her and it aroused her even more.
Oh, God, this was stupid. But it felt so *right*. So ... unbelievably beautiful. Like him.
Jarod broke away, leaving her gasping for breath. He trailed kisses down her throat, past her collarbone. She felt his breath hot against her skin. When he flicked his tongue over her left nipple, she arched her back, gasping.
Parker fingered for his shirt buttons, undoing them masterly. Years of practice coming in handy, she thought, a soft chuckle escaping her.
Jarod looked at her, those dark, fathomless eyes of his burning. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied, a little breathlessly. "Lose the shirt."
He shrugged it off and it fell to the floor. Parker ran her hands down his chest, over his stomach, down to the bulge in his pants. The jeans button went undone and she pulled down the zipper. When she touched him, his eyes rolled back and his jaw strained.
This was just fucking crazy! For years he'd been running and she'd been following, and neither of them had ever had the courage to find out what it would be like.
It felt right. Unbelievably right. Perhaps it wasn't the best time or the best place, but definitely the best partner. In a world filled with lies and sorrow, making love to Jarod was one of the few things that made her feel truly alive. He'd come here, uninvited, but he was welcome to stay. Right now, even forever.
Jarod wiggled out of his jeans and tossed them aside. He was wearing white boxers underneath. Parker slipped out of the shirt and it landed on the floor next to his pants.
Jarod's eyes went even darker with desire. The way he looked at her, it aroused her more than anything other men had ever done to her.
Parker smiled slowly and ran her fingers over his flat stomach, down to where a fine line of hair disappeared below the waistband of his boxers, and finally she slipped her fingers inside his shorts.
He sucked in a breath. "Oh, God. Parker."
She kissed him again, knowing that if she happened to go to sleep in his arms, even now as the sun rose, the nightmares would stay a million miles away.
**********
Later, they lay on the floor, their heads resting next to each other and their bodies extending in opposite directions. They were both looking at the ceiling, and Jarod for his part, was watching the spots of light dance on the white surface. A ray of light fell on his torso and his boxers that he had put back on some time ago.
He found it strange, even a little dizzying, that they'd gone from being friends to enemies to lovers in such short time. She'd stunned him. Never had he thought that she could be so passionate, so fierce, and yet so tender all at the same time.
"I suppose ..." he began with a little sigh, not really knowing what he wanted to say. There really wasn't much left. He'd come here for reasons of his own and she'd taken him inside her for others. Perhaps for all the wrong ones.
Jarod turned onto his side propping his head up on his elbow. She had slipped back into her shirt, but had left the buttons undone, and now Jarod found that to be a little distracting. Still, he tried to focus.
"I suppose," he began again, "there isn't much sense in asking you to--"
"Don't," she said, looking at him, those blue eyes of hers pained. "Don't ask me. I can't. I'm serving a life sentence."
He nodded, a sigh escaping him. "I just thought ..."
"You think too much," she told him. "It's one of your worst faults."
Jarod cocked an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. When he reached out with his free hand and laid it on her stomach, he felt her tremble. Her skin was warm and smooth ... perfect. She was breathtakingly beautiful and for a moment he was afraid he might not be able to leave her when the time came.
Almost mesmerized, he watched her face as his long fingers drew circles around her navel. Her nipples hardened and she arched her back when his hand slipped lower, between her thighs.
"Jarod," she gasped.
"Close your eyes," he whispered. "No thinking required. For either of us."
She nodded, letting her eyes slip shut.
**********
Her head on his chest, Parker could feel his heart return to a slow, steady rhythm. They were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Jarod smelled musky, masculine and of absolutely mind-blowing sex. God, that man knew how to fuck.
Her lips curved into a slow, lazy smile. "You've got this Pretender thing down pat," she told him. "What wonderful talents you have."
He raised his head from the floor and looked at her, grinning that slow, sexy grin that she'd always thought she hated, because it drove her out of her mind.
"Would be wasted at the Centre, wouldn't they?" he asked.
"You're right, there are *much* better ways to put them to use," she laughed. "Your intuition is pretty much dead on."
He nuzzled her neck, laughter rumbling in his chest.
"Or," she added with a raised eyebrow, "you've been practicing. Laying 'em in the aisles, so to speak."
"You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?"
"No," she replied. It was his business and had nothing to do with here and now, and *that* was what was important. The here and now. "You can fuck your way through the entire Eastern seaboard for all I care. It's not important."
"Well, right now, I'm more interested in fucking you," he replied wryly, his hand moving down her back, coming to rest on her buttocks. "Though I probably wouldn't put it that crudely."
A low, throaty chuckle escaped her. "Well, for the moment, you'll have to be content with coffee."
She got up from the floor and picked up her shirt. Slipping into it, she gave him a slow, sexy smile. "Not that I mind your state of undress, but it might get a little chilly. It's up to you. What would you like for breakfast?"
Jarod scrambled to his feet and reached for his boxers which were dangling from the lamp shade.
How the hell did they get *there*? she wondered. He slipped into them and followed her into the kitchen.
"Toast, if you have any."
"Will Cornflakes do?" she asked, checking her mostly-empty cupboards.
He came to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. "You'd do," he replied lazily, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Again?" she asked. "Gee, give him an inch ... And talk about staying power."
"Tell me about him," Jarod suddenly said.
"Who?"
"Thomas."
Parker stiffened involuntarily. Dammit, why did he have to bring Tommy up now? This little adventure of theirs was all about not thinking, about forgetting, about keeping the nightmares away. He knew that.
"You knew him, Jarod," she replied, her voice a little cooler than before. "You knew him before I did."
It still hurt to think about that. Jarod controlled so much of her life. The fact that he controlled her love life as well made her angry.
"I don't know what he did to make you happy," Jarod replied. "I don't know about the little things that you loved about him. You should talk about him and remember those little things."
"Not today, Jarod," she said, dismissing the subject. "Today, I don't want to think about things I've lost."
"Okay," he replied, his voice so full of compassion it made her worry that perhaps this was going to far. "That's okay."
"So, now how about Cornflakes?" she asked, her voice a little shaky all of a sudden.
**********
The place was filled with light and smelled like cinnamon and apple. Parker looked around, then down at herself, and back up. Slowly the light drained away, revealing a room Parker had thought she would never see again.
Her mother's sanctuary.
Parker looked around, finding that it looked just the way it had looked when she'd been a little girl. There was a rocking chair next to the window and next to it a little table. There were shelves filled with books, mountains of books.
Parker walked up to one of the shelves and ran her fingers over the backs of the books. She smiled, tears shining in her eyes.
Suddenly she heard her mother's gentle, loving voice fill the room. When she turned, she saw Catherine sitting in the rocking chair. In front of her, sitting on the floor, she saw herself as a little girl, no older than nine or ten.
Catherine had a book open on her lap and was reading from it, looking up from time to time to smile at the little girl on the floor.
"'Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,' grumbled Jo, lying on the rug," Catherine read. "'It's so dreadful to be poor!' sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress. 'I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all ...'"
Parker smiled through tears, watching her mother and her younger self in happy times. It made her heart ache.
Quietly, almost as if she were afraid of intruding this private moment, Parker positioned herself next to her younger self on the floor, listening to her mother's voice that she had loved so much.
Catherine read, "Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone, 'You know the reason Mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone.'"
Parker listened, mesmerized by her mother's voice, just like she'd been as a child. Then her mother looked up from the book and gave Parker a warm, gentle smile.
She put her hand on her now-grown up daughter's cheek. Parker covered it with her own, feeling very happy and safe here in this place, happier and safer than she'd felt in a long, long time.
After a moment, Catherine continued to read.
**********
Parker awoke, feeling more relaxed than ever. She could still smell the cinnamon-apple scent that had filled her mother's room. Her mother's voice was still with her, in her heart.
Parker opened her eyes, blinking. The bedroom was bathed in orange light. Sun was setting.
Only after a few moments, Parker noticed the soft breathing next to her and the arm on her stomach. She looked over to the other side of the bed. Amazing that he could go to sleep next to her, after all she'd put him through ...
She watched him, knowing that letting a sweeper team come here to collect him would be the right thing to do. But instead, she simply watched his face. In her mind's eye, she saw that same face against the pillow, the jaw muscle strained, his head thrown back, as he came inside her.
Suddenly, Jarod blinked and opened his eyes. He looked at her for several moments. Then, without a word, he pushed himself up with his arms and leaned over to kiss her.
Words had become unnecessary. They required thinking and *this* was all about feeling, experiencing, floating, drifting. No thinking required.
Jarod kissed her tenderly at first, then more fiercely, his tongue probing her mouth. He touched her, slipping his hand between her thighs. Those long, slender fingers of his were doing wonderful things to her, leaving her gasping for breath, as he moved closer. She felt him hard against her and ached to feel him inside her again.
Parker stopped thinking.
**********
The sun set and the hours slipped by, but the two people in the bedroom were oblivious to all of that. For them, nothing existed but the feeling of a warm body next to theirs, and tangled limbs among the bedsheets. Nothing but the experience of feeling safe and warm, if only for a little while.
Time was unimportant. Words were, too. And as darkness came and the night fell upon Blue Cove, Jarod and Parker sought solace in each other's arms, both knowing that all of this would end when the sun rose the next day.
Then the chase would continue. Life would go on, and this day and all that had happened between them wouldn't be part of their future. The Centre still stood between them.
Right here and right now, though, the Centre and the future were far away.
For a little while, they were happy.
**********
Parker stood, looking at the large complex. The Centre was all she'd ever known. It was more than a job. It was a prison, and would always be. Her mother hadn't wanted that for her.
"Parker?"
She turned at the familiar voice, almost as if she'd been waiting for him. Parker smiled. "Hello, Tommy," she said, walking over to him.
She took his outstretched hand and let him draw her into his arms. He smiled down at her. "Are you happy?" he asked her, looking into her eyes, wondering.
"I am now," she replied. "The nightmares are far away. At least for the moment."
Tommy leaned in to kiss her. Gently, he brushed his lips against hers. Parker shut her eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again.
Thomas put his arm around her shoulders and together they turned their backs on the complex that was the Centre. He squeezed her arm gently.
"Go with me?" he asked with a gentle smile.
"Anywhere."
Smiling, she began to walk, slipping her hand into Tommy's. They left the
Centre behind them, never looking back. They were free; a word Parker had thought would never apply to her.
When she looked up at the man at her side after a few moments, it wasn't Thomas Gates walking next to her anymore.
It was Jarod.
**********
The sun never came. The next day started cloudy, with hard rain falling on Blue Cove. Parker awoke to the sound of the rhythmic pounding of the raindrops on the roof.
The other side of the bed was empty. Parker let out a deep breath, unsure what exactly to feel right now.
Eventually, she got up and headed for the bathroom. After a quick shower, she got dressed in one of her smart business suits, applied some make-up, making sure she looked her usual self when she got to the Centre. For some reason, she had the feeling that they would be able to see how she'd spent the last twenty-four hours -- and, more importantly, with whom. His touch, his kisses were forever imprinted on her skin, even if she was the only who could see them.
Parker went downstairs, stopping on her way to the kitchen. She looked around and suddenly let out a humorless laugh. It was so typical. He always came and went as he pleased, disappeared when she wasn't looking and after he'd left it was like he'd never even been there in the first place.
Even the broken coffee cup had disappeared from the living room floor.
He had vanished into thin air, just like he always did. Everything was just like it always was. Everything was back to normal.
Only this time, she'd spent the night without nightmares, without waking up drenched in cold sweat. This time, she'd slept.
Wherever he'd gone, he'd left having accomplished his mission.
**********
Jarod sat behind the wheel of a red Porsche convertible, wearing a pair of sunglasses. He was smiling. He'd left the rain behind hours ago and the sun was shining.
The radio was playing and Jarod was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove.
He was going to stop soon to grab some breakfast. Maybe at one of those little places along the highway that served high-calory, not-exactly-the-best-thing-for-your-cholesterol, dripping-with-fat plates of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. Maybe he was just going to buy some orange juice and donuts at the next gas station.
No matter what he had for breakfast, the day was going to be absolutely beautiful.
His smile widened.
Next stop, California.
**********
fin
