Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 03/30/03



Bridge of the Abyss Part1


By Phenyx

"The angel of light and the angel of darkness are to wrestle on the bridge of the abyss. Which of the two shall hurl down the other?" - Victor Hugo



-

Sounds of a desperate scream filled with anguish wrenched Miss Parker into consciousness.


She sat bolt upright in bed, slick with sweat as she clawed at the quilt tangled beneath her. Disoriented and terrified, she gasped for breath while her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage. She swallowed hard, grimacing against the pain it caused. Only then, when she discovered the rawness of her throat, did Parker realize that the terrible shrieks echoing in her ears had been torn from her own troubled soul.


A quick glance at the clock revealed that the time was 4:19 AM.


Trembling badly, Parker threw back the covers and shakily made her way to the restroom where she splashed several handfuls of cool water on her face. Her frightened wide-eyed reflection stared back at her from the mirror as she tried to calm the frenzied shaking of her limbs.


Parker closed her eyes and took a deep relaxing breath. She tried to analyze the dream and approach her fear in a detached manner but the images had already begun to fracture and dissipate. Parker did her best to hold on to the dream, to cling to some memory that had frightened her so badly. It suddenly seemed very important that she remember. But all that remained of the vision was a vague, indefinable horror and a single whispered sentence that hung in her mind forebodingly.


"What a beautiful day."


In and of itself, the phrase seemed innocuous enough. Yet as she whispered the words out loud, Parker felt the flesh along her arms prickle as though someone had just walked over her grave.


Sighing heavily, Parker wandered back to the bedroom to glare at the tumbled bed covers. There would be no more sleep for her tonight, she knew. Not that a lack of sleep was anything unusual. Parker hadn't had a decent night's sleep in months.


Since Mr. Parker's death four months ago, life had taken on a strange disjointed quality. Raines was in charge at The Centre and spent an inordinate amount of time trying to build a relationship with Miss Parker. He'd even gone so far as to schedule family counseling. Lyle joined in on these sessions and the two men seemed to have formed a tight bond.


During their last appointment, Raines had tried to convince Parker that he had spent years resenting the deception regarding her true parentage. His anger at the situation had been the root cause of the rivalry between him and Mr. Parker. Parker hadn't believed a word out of the slimy devil's mouth. She had left the counselor's office feeling nothing but contempt for everyone involved.


The entire scene had literally made Parker ill. She hadn't gone to anymore of the appointments.


Parker had railed against Raines ever since the day Mr. Parker had died. She refused to acknowledge the wheezing ghoul as her father. The man she had always called "Daddy" would be the only father she would ever know.


Despite the lies and deception her father had always given her, Miss Parker still grieved over his loss. The older man had haunted her dreams nearly every night since she had last seen him. But none of her nightmares had left her as shaken and frightened as this one had.


Although it was still several hours before she was expected at work, Parker went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee to begin her day. Perhaps the normalcy of her daily routine would help ease the nervousness dredged up by the nightmare.


Parker sipped at her coffee cup and flipped through yesterday's newspaper. She had read the issue the previous day, but today's paper had not yet arrived. Sighing heavily Parker pushed the newsprint aside in frustration. Her eyes wandered guiltily toward the phone.


Miss Parker glanced at the business card in her hand. Frowning with indecision, she turned it over and over with her fingers. The placard was a plain ivory color, completely blank except for the ten-digit phone number printed in the center of the card. Parker had committed the number to memory though she had actually dialed it only once.


Upon her return from Africa after Parker's ordeal on the Island of Carthis, she had found this card propped against the telephone in her livingroom. Sheer curiosity had driven her to dial the ten numbers.


"Hello, Miss Parker." Jarod's voice had purred through the phone at the time.


Parker sighed in resignation. "How did you know it was me?" She'd asked him. "Am I the only one with this number?"


"Caller ID is a wonderful thing." Jarod's smirk was audible in his voice.


"My number is blocked from that system, Jarod." She had told him.


Jarod chuckled. "There are ways around that."


"What do you want, Jarod?" Parker had asked.


"You called me, Parker."


"You left this number, knowing that I would dial it." Parker grumbled in exasperation.


There had been a brief silence before Jarod finally said, "I thought you might like someone to talk to. You've been through a lot in the past few days, learning what you've learned, losing your father." He'd paused for a moment before adding, "I thought you might need a friend."


"I've never needed one before." She had growled at him.


Jarod had sighed sadly. "If you change your mind, you know how to reach me." He said.


Staring at her phone now in the early predawn gloom, Parker could not shake the eerie feeling caused by the disturbing dream. She did want to talk to someone.


"Who are you kidding?" Parker whispered to herself. She didn't want to talk to just anyone. She wanted to talk to Jarod.
The wind picked up outside her window, blowing tree limbs across the panes of glass with a scraping sound. Mesmerized by the repetitive motion, Parker was startled to notice fine budding leaves on the tree. The long cold winter had finally released its grip on the world. Spring was coming.


A sudden flash of lightning brightened the room, blinding Parker for a moment. The crash of thunder that followed startled Parker so badly that before she realized what she was doing, her fingers had grabbed up the phone and started dialing.


The other end of the line was picked up after the second ring.


"Hello?" a low sleepy voice said.


Parker sighed. She felt better already. "What do you know?" She purred mischievously. "For once I get to wake you in the middle of the night."


Jarod's throaty chuckle brought a small curl to Parker's lips. She didn't bother to analyze her reasons for calling him. And she didn't bother to wonder how the simple sound of Jarod's voice had chased away her anxiety.


"Are you okay?" Jarod asked.


Parker could hear movement from the other end of the connection. In her mind's eye she could see Jarod rearranging himself in bed so that he could talk more easily.


"I'm fine, I guess." Parker said with a sigh.


"You don't sound fine, Parker." Jarod scolded slightly.


Parker shrugged as though Jarod could see her.


"Are you having trouble sleeping?" He asked with uncanny accuracy.


Parker sighed again. "Nightmares." She said.


"They can be a bitch." Jarod said in understanding. "Always sneaking up on you when you least expect them."


"Do you have them often?" Parker asked meekly.


"Only when I sleep." Jarod replied nonchalantly. "Was it bad?" He asked.


Parker curled up in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest. "I can't remember the dream." She said. "But it scared the hell out of me."


"I hate nightmares like that." Jarod admitted sympathetically. "You wake up in the dark with some unknown, undefined fear niggling away at your psyche."


"How do you deal with that feeling?" Parker asked.


"I pack my stuff and move on." Jarod answered honestly. "When I get the urge to run, I run."


Parker leaned her head against the forearm resting on her knees. Even through closed eyelids, she saw the next flash of lightning. Thunder boomed loud enough to make Parker flinch.


"It's raining there." Jarod said when he heard the sound.


"Brilliant deduction, Wonder-boy." Parker drawled sarcastically. "You must be a genius."


"Give me a break, Parker." Jarod laughed. "I'm not fully awake yet."


"So, the Lab-rat can dish it out but he can't take it eh?" She growled at him. Parker heard a rustling sound over the line, followed by a metallic clinking that she couldn't quite identify. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.


Jarod hesitated before answering. "I'm putting my pants on."


Parker frowned in confusion. "Why bother? I can't see you."


Parker could sense the shrug in Jarod's voice. "It seems so vulnerable somehow, to be talking to you in nothing but my boxers." He said in a chagrined voice.


"You wear boxers?" Parker teased. "I always imagined you were a briefs kind of guy."


"You imagined me in my underwear?" Jarod asked with genuine surprise.


Parker chuckled at the shock in his voice. "I don't think I like where this conversation is going." She scolded playfully. "I didn't call to engage you in phone sex, Jarod."


"Phone sex?" he asked. "I've heard that term before."


"Well I am not going to be the one to explain it to you." Parker gasped in exaggerated indignation. "Call a 900 number."


"I've tried that." Jarod said. "But I don't think Miss Cleo can really see the future."


Parker laughed out loud.


"Feeling better?" Jarod chuckled.


"Yes." Parker admitted.


After a long comfortable silence, Jarod said, "The sun's coming up."


"I can't see the sun through this storm." Parker said in return.


"I'll share my sunrise with you if you like, Miss Parker." Jarod said gently.


"I should go." Parker declined. "I need to get ready for work."


"Are you sure?" he urged. "The colors are magnificent this morning."


"I'm sure." She said. "Thank you, Jarod."


"Anytime, Parker." Jarod said.


Parker sat at the table and stared in wonder at the phone for several long minutes after ending the connection. Finally, shaking her head at the irony of it all, Parker went to get dressed for a day of pretender hunting.



~~~~~
"I should have stayed in bed." Parker groaned to herself with a heavy sigh.


Though the coffee she had just spilled was no longer hot, the stain spreading across her silk blouse was painful just the same. The cup had been sitting on her desk unattended for nearly twenty minutes. As a result, Parker had been spared what could have been a nasty scalding. But the expensive white blouse would never be the same.

Tossing aside her suit jacket in an attempt to save it from the rivulets still oozing across her desk, Parker growled angrily as Sydney entered the room.

"What!" she yelled as she futilely tried to salvage the paperwork she'd been working on all morning.

"I was looking for Broots." Sydney said calmly.

"He isn't here!" Parker snapped between clenched teeth. A trail of cold coffee reached the edge of the tabletop and cascaded to the floor, speckling Parker's shoes. "Damn."

"Would you like some help?" Sydney asked.

If looks could kill, the ice-cold glare Parker shot at the psychiatrist would have dropped him like a stone. "Get Carl in here." She hissed.

Sydney disappeared, returning a moment later with Parker's new personal assistant. The young man was efficient and good looking. His curly golden- blonde hair and azure blue eyes gave his young face the innocent look of a cupie-doll. But Mr. Lyle had assigned him to this duty. As a result, Parker didn't trust him. She suspected that Lyle was trying to infiltrate her team with this eager young spy.

Parker never gave the young man any task worthwhile. She heaped his desk with meaningless and trivial minutia with the calculated intent of driving him away.

"Clean up this mess." Parker ordered. "And find me another shirt."

"Yes ma'am." The clean cut Carl said.

"Sydney is looking for Mr. Broots. Locate him." Parker called over her shoulder as she stalked into the restroom. If she could get the blouse into some water right away, perhaps the coffee wouldn't leave a permanent stain. Perhaps.

Nearly half an hour later, Parker surrendered. The silky garment was a lost cause. Sighing with frustration, Parker heaved the sopping wet shirt into the washbasin in disgust. The resulting splat sent droplets of water into the air to land on the camisole she wore. A long-suffering hiss of resignation escaped her.

Parker grabbed a nearby towel to dry herself when there was a soft knock.

"Miss Parker?" Broots called. "I've brought your shirt."

Throwing modesty to the wind, Parker yanked the door open and angrily snatched the cotton blouse from Broots' stunned hands. She stormed across the office as she pulled the shirt on and buttoned it rapidly.

Parker turned a moment later to find Broots staring at her. "Show's over, pin-head." She sneered as she fastened the buttons at her wrists. "Why are you still here?"

Broots blinked and began to stutter. "C c c c Carl said you were looking for me."

Parker shook her head. "Sydney was." Glancing meaningfully at her watch Parker added, "Where have you been anyway?"

Broots moaned. "I've had a terrible morning." He began. "The power went out at my place so there was no alarm to wake me up. Debbie missed the school bus. Then on my way in to work, I got a flat tire."

Parker hadn't really paid any attention earlier. But looking more closely now, she could see that Broots was drenched. The storm that had begun early this morning hadn't let up. Rain had been falling in heavy sheets all day.

"Luckily, I had already dropped Debbie off at school. But it took nearly an hour to change the stupid flat." Broots complained.

Miss Parker couldn't stop the smirk that began to curl the corners of her mouth.

"It's not funny." Broots whined.

"Yes it is." Parker countered. "Grab a towel." She ordered.

Broots briefly stepped into the lavatory and plucked a dry towel from the rack.

"It looks like we both got up on the wrong side of the bed today." Parker sighed.

"No kidding." Broots agreed as he tried to wipe away the moisture on his clothes. He sighed heavily. Tossing aside the towel dejectedly, Broots headed for the door. "What a beautiful day." He grumbled sarcastically.

As the office door closed on Broots' retreating form, Parker stared after him in sudden shock. His parting words hung in the air ominously. Parker shivered. Anxiety rose in her throat though she couldn't understand why.

Pulling her coat back on, Parker hugged her arms around herself in an attempt to fend off the abrupt iciness that chilled her bones.



~~~~~~


"Well?" Parker snapped.

Young Carl cringed visibly. Sydney, standing in the hallway at Parker's side, almost felt sorry for the blonde assistant.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parker. No one seems to know where Mr. Lyle has gone." Carl said.

"Dig deeper." She demanded. "He's up to something. I can feel it."

"No one has seen him since the status meeting this morning." The young man explained.

"Whenever my brother starts sneaking around," Parker grumbled. "I get worried." She turned a deadly glare on the light-haired man. "I don't like worrying, Carl. Find him."

Parker folded her arms and stormed off down the hallway, leaving the two men behind.

Carl sighed. "She hates me."

Sydney smiled gently. "She snaps like that at everyone, you know."

Crystalline blue eyes turned toward Sydney in disbelief. "But she doesn't talk to you that way, Doctor."

Sydney chuckled. "No." the older man admitted. "She rips into me much worse."

The younger man frowned. "I'm part of her team, now. Why does she shut me out?"

Sydney sighed. "Mr. Lyle brought you on board. As a result, she inherently mistrusts you."

"But I work for Miss Parker," Carl argued. "Not her brother."

With a reassuring pat on the shorter man's shoulder, Sydney said, "If that is true, Carl, she will learn to trust you in time. Her confidence is never given. It must be earned."

With that, the gray-haired psychiatrist walked away. Carl frowned as he watched the doctor get on the elevator, presumably headed for his office in the sim lab.

The young man walked back to his desk. As he slid into his seat, Carl frowned dejectedly at the closed doors to his left. The doors led to Miss Parker's office, a room he'd been ordered to stay away from unless he had definitive instructions to the contrary.

"You don't come in here unless I invite you in." Miss Parker had hissed at him when they first met.

Carl desperately wanted to be useful to his new employer. He didn't quite understand the relationship between the Parker siblings and he resented being made an unwilling pawn in their rivalry. Carl didn't know why Mr. Lyle had hired him for this job but he suspected that the intent was to frustrate and anger Miss Parker.

"Maybe she likes blonde boy-toys." Stephen had said off-handedly.

Carl had been so pleased to get this job, so excited that he could hardly wait to share his news. But, as usual, Stephen had dashed all the excitement out of the moment with the cruel comment.

"It's good money, Stephen." Carl had argued. "I'll be able to pay my share of the bills and still have extra cash."

"It won't last, C." Stephen had laughed.

"It will." Carl had promised. "I'll do a good job."

Stephen shook his head sadly. "Carl, an assistant is someone you come to depend upon. Powerful people lean heavily on personal assistants to help them get day to day errands accomplished." Steve had wrapped Carl in a warm embrace as he chuckled. "You aren't the type of person people depend on, C. You're too needy. You depend too heavily on others."

"I don't." Carl had denied weakly.

"You do." Stephen purred. Running a seductive caress down Carl's spine, his tall lover growled into his ear. "Admit it."

"I don't." Carl whispered.

"Admit it." Stephen breathed as he began removing Carl's shirt. "You need me."

Of course, in the end, Carl had submitted. Stephen's need to crush his lover's ego was sadistic in nature and Carl knew it. But as pitiful as it sounded, the sex was always worth a little self-humiliation.

However, in the light of day, away from their shared bedroom, Carl felt that he needed to prove his lover wrong. He needed to succeed as Miss Parker's assistant. He was determined to become an integral part of her team. Carl would find a way to earn his employer's confidence.

But for now, Carl would have to settle for finding her brother.


~~~


Miss Parker glared out the window of her office. The storm that had blown into the area this morning had eased up slightly. The pouring rain had been reduced to a drizzling mist. The day had been gloomy and overcast. As a result, night fell with alarming rapidity.

So engrossed was she in her musings that Parker was startled when a voice spoke behind her.

"Miss Parker?"

Swirling around in her chair, Parker glared angrily at her young personal assistant. "Did I give you permission to come in?" she hissed.

"I knocked." Carl swallowed. "You must not have heard me."

Parker frowned. Raking a cursory glance down the young man's frame, she shook her head ruefully. Carl was boyishly handsome with his blonde hair and tight little frame. But his eyes were disturbingly bright blue, giving Parker the impression that she was talking to a porcelain figurine.

"Is it important enough to risk my wrath, Carl?" she growled.

"I think so." Carl answered.

Parker had to give the little cretin credit. He managed to withstand one of her most withering looks.

"I found this." The young man said, sidling up to her desk to hand her a crumpled slip of paper.

Parker snatched the note from his fingertips and read it perfunctorily. It was a memo from the Triumvirate to Mr. Lyle.

"Your plan for subduing the rebellious nature of the subject has been approved. It is preferred that the terminations occur in one event in order to avoid suspicion from the authorities. The methods used shall be left to the discretion of The Centre." The paper read.

On the bottom portion of the paper, a pencil led had been brushed carefully across the sheet, revealing an impression caused by writing on an overlaying page. Two lines were barely legible, a time 11 PM, and an address, 24642 Hempford Drive.

"What is this?" Parker asked.

Carl shrugged. "I found it in Mr. Lyle's wastepaper basket."

Rereading the brief message, Parker felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to tingle. "This is only a street address." She grumbled. "There could be hundreds of streets with that name across the United States."

The young man smiled beautifully at her. "Well, a Centre jet left Blue Cove early this afternoon headed for Indiana."

"Find me a Hempford Drive in Indiana, Carl." Parker ordered. "And hurry, we've got less than four hours."

Carl scurried back to his desk with a grin of triumph on his face as Parker grabbed up the phone to arrange transportation and a flight to the Hoosier state.

Twenty-five minutes later, armed with a detailed map of her destination, Miss Parker dashed across the tarmac toward a waiting airplane. Five minutes after that, they were airborne.

Anxiety pulsed through Parker's veins as she barged into the cockpit. "How long?" She demanded.

"We should be landing near Fort Wayne in about two and a half hours, Miss Parker." The pilot told her.

Heading back to her seat, Miss Parker studied the map in her hand. Once the flight ended, she would have to drive another forty-five minutes to reach the rural area indicated by the address. The timing was too tight. She had a mere fifteen-minute window in which to find Lyle's target and prevent the "termination". Her nervousness increased another notch.

There was nothing Parker could do but wait out the next couple of hours. Her fingers drummed spastically on the armrest as she watched the blackness speed passed her window. With sudden inspiration, Parker dug her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed.

"Hello?" Jarod answered on the first ring.

"Jarod?" Parker asked.

"Well, well, well." Jarod cooed. "Twice in one day. I'm honored, Miss Parker."

"Shut up and listen." She snarled. "I've uncovered something important. Lyle is planning to kill someone. It's a Triumvirate sanctioned assassination."

"Who?" Jarod asked in a clipped voice.

"I don't know, but the memo I saw said something about a single event resulting in terminations, plural. Meaning more than one life is at stake." Parker said. "I have an address that I think may be the location but I'm still several hours away. I may not get there in time."

"And you thought that I might be closer." Jarod finished for her.

Parker shrugged. "I had hoped you might be." She admitted. "How far are you from Fort Wayne, Indiana?"

There was a pause as Jarod did some quick calculations. "I can be there by midnight." He said finally.

"This is going down at 11." Parker sighed in frustration.

"Then I'll be there by eleven." He said firmly.

As Parker gave Jarod the address of their mutual destination, she could hear a door slam in the background. The sound of a car starting hissed across the line just before Jarod hung up.

"Hurry, Jarod." Parker pleaded to the empty seats as irrational desperation clawed at her.

It didn't occur to Parker that Jarod had never questioned her urgency. She had called him, essentially asking for help, and Jarod had responded unquestioningly. Equally astonishing yet lost in the frenzied thoughts of her mind, Parker never doubted that Jarod would come.


~~~~


It was a quarter to eleven and Parker was caught in a traffic jam.

Red and blue lights glimmering through the darkness ahead of her suggested that there was an accident of some sort, blocking the road. Parker gripped the steering wheel of the rental car tightly. With each tick of the clock on the dashboard, her heart pounded more rapidly. The line of cars inched along with aching slowness.

Finally, the police cars and a tow truck came into view. Parker's progress came to a complete halt as an officer stopped traffic to allow the truck to back across both lanes. Hanging off the road, half in the ditch was a silver pickup truck with a broken axel.

It took several minutes for the truck driver to hook the wench up to the little pickup. As the truck began to haul the damaged car out of the ditch, Parker's headlights illuminated the neon blue racing stripe that ran the length of the silver vehicle.

The bright blue color was so vivid that Parker was ridiculously reminded of the color of her young assistant's eyes. Silver paint twinkled against the blue.

Parker was abruptly blinded by a flash of red-orange light inside her head. Her body arched in pain as she was suddenly assaulted by her little brother's panic. Ethan's mind screamed to hers in a psychic wail. In the confines of the car, Parker screamed an echo of Ethan's mental agony.

Just as quickly as it had come, the presence of her little brother vanished from Parker's mind. Severed from Ethan with a frightening swiftness, Parker was left trembling in her seat.

She looked at the clock illuminated in the darkness and saw the time click over to 11:01.

When the policeman waved her through a moment later, Parker was weeping. She was too late. Lyle had succeeded.


~~~


Parker rounded a bend in the road twenty minutes later and saw a farmhouse in flames. She didn't need to see the address to know that she had found her destination.

As Parker stepped out of the car, she saw a tall shape silhouetted against the flames. Stumbling to his knees in the yard, Jarod clutched a woman's body in his arms.

Afraid of what she would see, Parker approached slowly. Shrouded bodies littered the yard. A red and white-checkered tablecloth covered one mound. Bare feet stuck out at the bottom. A blue plastic tarp covered another. Two matching sheets, dragged off of the nearby clothesline concealed two more shapes. The bright yellow and blue floral pattern of the coverlets shifted gruesomely in the flickering light of the fire.

Feeling as though her limbs were made of stone, Parker dragged her attention toward Jarod. Soot covered and singed, Jarod had obviously gone into the burning house again and again. But he had found no survivors.

In his arms, Jarod held a red haired, middle-aged woman. Parker recognized her immediately. The strange tilt to her neck and the sightless stare of her eyes gave proof that Jarod's mother was dead.

Parker couldn't speak. Her voice croaked from her throat as though it belonged to someone else. "Ethan?" she asked hopelessly.

Jarod didn't answer. He stared vacantly in from of him, trembling.

Parker looked fearfully at the covered corpses around her. Crouching beside the nearest one, Parker lifted the sheet from the form and gasped tearfully. The boy had been badly burned. One side of his face was a mirror image of the young man Jarod had once been. The other side of the boy's visage was a blackened char of oozing flesh.

Desperately struggling to rein in her emotions, Parker eased the shroud back into place. Glancing at the next sheet, she cringed as she noticed the dark stain that had spread across the flowered print. Moving slowly, knowing she would regret her actions, Parker pulled the sheet away.

It was Ethan. He had evidently been close to the explosion. His body had suffered from a large impact. His throat, shoulder and upper torso had been viciously torn by some jagged object. There was a great deal of blood.

Parker did the only thing she could do. Cradling Ethan's head in her lap, Parker grieved for her little brother. She stroked her fingers through his hair as she wept. Looking up wearily at the chaos around her, Parker cried even harder.

"It isn't fair." She moaned. "This just isn't fair."

Parker glanced at Jarod, reaching out to him with her eyes in order to share her sorrow. But Jarod just sat there. He shed no tears. There was no anger. He just sat in shocked disbelief with the dead woman in his lap.

The screech of tires against the asphalt brought Parker to her senses. Two cars had just pulled up. Raines stepped from one car and Lyle from the other. Half a dozen sweepers accompanied them.

Gently easing herself away from Ethan's body, Parker stood and stalked dangerously toward the approaching men. She dashed across the lawn and threw herself at Lyle.

Wrapping her hands around his throat, Parker tackled her twin and forced him to the ground.

"You filthy bastard!" she screamed. "He was your brother too!"

Parker punctuated her words by banging Lyle's head against the ground.

"He was your brother too!" She railed again.

"Get her off me!" Lyle gasped as Parker began to choke him.

Two sweepers hauled Miss Parker away from Lyle as he coughed and choked. Screaming with rage, Parker kicked and cursed at them.

"Forget her," hissed Raines. "Get Jarod."

Dumping Parker on the ground like a bag of trash, the sweepers went after Jarod. They had no trouble catching him. Jarod sat motionless, letting the men grab him easily.

"Come along, Jarod." Raines wheezed. "It's time to come home now."

His eyes glazed with shock, Jarod allowed the sweepers to drag him from the ground. He let the sweepers lead him away. As the guards steered Jarod toward the waiting cars, Parker rushed to his side.

"I'll take care of them, Jarod." Parker whispered fervently. "I'll see to it that they are treated with dignity."

Jarod stared at her without comprehension.

"I'll make sure they stay together as a family." Parker promised.

"Let the cleaners take care of this, Parker." Lyle croaked through his swollen larynx.

Parker pulled her gun from its holster and pointed it at Lyle. "Any Centre employee who touches them is going to get a bullet between the eyes." She growled.

"We have what we came for, Lyle." Raines said. "Let's go. Leave her to her precious corpses."

As the men all clambered into the two cars and drove away, Parker fell to her knees. Despair threatened to overwhelm her and she struggled with her emotions. There was still much to do before she could allow herself to grieve fully. She would need to protect the bodies around her from the ghoulish plots of The Centre.

Parker wouldn't allow anyone to molest her brother or his family. She owed Ethan that much.

She had promised.

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 04/19/03

-



Bridge of the Abyss Part 2



Consequences


By Phenyx


"Those whom God wishes to destroy, he first makes mad." - Euripedes

-

Miss Parker sagged into her chair and leaned her elbows on the desk in exhaustion. The last three days had been grueling. She had kept her promise. The bodies of Ethan and his family had all been closely guarded and the cremations had been carefully supervised. The remains had then been buried in a series of plots at a cemetery not far from the farmhouse where the group had died.

At Parker's insistence, there had been a small service yesterday afternoon. She had been the lone mourner in attendance. It was just as well. Parker hadn't wanted any company. With the arrangements complete and the tombstones ordered, Parker had finally allowed herself to submit to the sorrow she'd been battling in the days since the fire.

Parker had wept for the younger brother she had known so briefly. Then she had cried for the boy who had looked so much like Jarod. Though she had only met Major Charles once, Parker had grieved for him as well. She had even mourned over the deaths of Jarod's mother and sister, neither of whom Parker had ever met.

Parker had sobbed wretchedly before the line of graves. She had wept bitterly for a family she'd barely known. Because Jarod couldn't be there to mourn their loss, Parker did it for him. She alone understood the tragic blow this would be for Jarod.

Having returned to Delaware just before dawn, Parker had taken great care in preparing for work. Not even expertly applied make up could hide the ravages of sorrow and fatigue. Never the less, Parker looked stunning. Her hair was meticulously styled, surrounding her face in a professional fashion. She was dressed in a form fitting black suit. The short skirt and long jacket were tailored to accentuate Parker's physical attributes. Satiny black nylons made her long legs seem even longer.

Submitting to a vanity that wasn't customary for her, Parker slipped a cosmetics case out of her pocket and checked her appearance in the small mirror. She had to face Jarod today. She wanted to look her best.

Parker was frowning at her reflection when Sydney entered her office. Quickly snapping the compact closed and tucking it away, Parker asked without preamble, "Have you seen him?"

Sydney nodded.

"Where are they keeping him?" She demanded.

"Sub-level 22." Sydney replied. With a shake of his head he went on, "Miss Parker, you are exhausted. You need rest. You are unprepared for this encounter, both physically and emotionally."

Parker shrugged. "I will see him today, regardless."

"Miss Parker." Sydney began.

"No!" Parker snapped more loudly than she had intended. She huffed and purposely lowered her voice. "I need to talk to him. Jarod will want to know that the arrangements are finished. He needs to know that his family can't be abused by The Centre any longer."

Sydney sighed. "You can tell him anything you like, Miss Parker. He won't hear you."

Parker frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You'll understand when you see him." was the cryptic response he gave.

Less than an hour later, standing just inside a large cold room on sub- level 22, Parker began to comprehend Sydney's meaning. The room itself was like any other sim lab on this level. One side of the room was flanked with glass-walled offices that opened onto the simulation area. The large open space in the middle of the room was empty except for a barred cell that had been erected in the center.

The cell had a single occupant. Jarod sat cross-legged on the floor in one corner of the otherwise empty cage. His hands were firmly clasped together and buried in his lap. The long brown hair that had tumbled across Jarod's forehead the last few times Parker had seem him was now gone. His hair had been cropped off in a stern institutional fashion.

Dark brown eyes were blank and empty as Jarod rocked methodically back and forth. He showed no reaction as Parker and Sydney stepped into the room.

Parker glanced at Sydney questioningly.

"He's been like this since he arrived." Sydney said softly. "He doesn't speak. He won't eat or sleep. He doesn't react to any stimulus at all. He just sits there and rocks."

"Can't he hear me?" Parker asked.

Sydney shrugged. "I don't know." The psychiatrist said. "He doesn't acknowledge anyone or anything. All indications point to a complete catatonic state."

Parker swallowed. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Parker slowly made her way across the room to kneel at the metal bars. Reaching between the iron rods, Parker placed a gentle hand on Jarod's shoulder.

"Jarod?" Parker called softly. "Jarod, it's me." She waited a moment, searching for any sign of recognition. Jarod's metronome-like motion continued without pause.

"I held a service for them yesterday, Jarod." Parker began, speaking as though Jarod could hear her. "It was very nice. I had them all interred in a family plot. They are all together beneath the branches of a huge old willow tree."

There was no response from the pretender.

"The cemetery is in Indiana." Parker continued. "I hope that's okay with you. I didn't think you would want me to bring them back to Delaware. And that seemed as good a place as any." Parker shrugged.

"I thought I would have something planted there. I was considering flowers or a shrub of some sort, perhaps another small tree. What do you think?" Parker asked hopefully.

Jarod's blank gaze stared sightlessly forward.

"You're wasting your time." A sly voice snarled from the doorway.

Parker spun around and stood up quickly. "Lyle." She hissed as her brother entered the room.

Lyle grinned evilly. "You'd have a more interesting conversation with Angelo." He said with a mean chuckle.

Parker glanced down at the pretender. "He might be able to hear me." She said gently.

Strolling up to the barred cell, Lyle reached into his pocket and removed a credit card sized piece of plastic. As Lyle swiped the key card through the slot, the cell door opened with a click. Grinning cruelly, he entered the cage and crouched down in front of Jarod.

Parker rushed in after him and knelt beside the two men.

"The house is dark and there's nobody home." Lyle said as he studied the pretender's face. "He's lost all his marbles."

Placing her hand on Jarod's arm, Parker whispered urgently, "Jarod. Please talk to me."

Lyle laughed. "Save your breath." To prove his point, Lyle pulled a lighter from another pocket and flipped the device with his thumb. Slowly and with great deliberation, Lyle brought the small flickering blaze so close to Jarod's cheek that as the pretender rocked forward, the flame came in contact with his flesh.

The stubble on Jarod's jaw began to singe, filling the air with the distinctive smell of burning hair. The skin on the pretender's face reddened and began to blister as he obliviously rocked into the tiny but destructive fire again and again.

Gasping with shock, Parker lashed out at her brother, knocking him to the ground. "You monster!" She hissed at him. Turning toward Jarod, she gently cupped his good cheek and tilted his head so that she could inspect the small wound Lyle had caused.

"Miss Parker!" Sydney called in warning.

Parker turned just in time to see the blow coming. Lyle backhanded her with such force that Parker was slammed against the bars at the side of cage. Stunned for a moment, Parker blinked up at Lyle in amazed wonder. The grim smile on Lyle's face sent a shiver of apprehension through Parker's body. Lyle took a menacing step toward her and Parker raised her fists in self- defense.

But the impact she was expecting never came. Movement flashed across the corner of Parker's vision, too quick for her to register. In a blur of motion the catatonic pretender shot up from the ground. The door of the cell crashed shut with a bang as Lyle was lifted from the ground by his lapels and rammed against the bars.

Sydney rushed to the edge of the cell and gripped the bars from the outside. Parker and Lyle were now locked inside with Jarod.

To Parker, it looked as though Jarod slapped Lyle violently, but the pretender has his back to her. Jarod's position blocked Lyle from Parker's view completely. Jarod silently raked a clenched fist across Lyle's chest.

As Parker rose from the floor, she could see a startled look of astonishment on Lyle's face. Jarod's arm jerked back across his body again. This time, Parker could see the red droplets that spattered onto the wall.

The moment seemed to freeze in time. Parker could hear a gurgling sound coming from Lyle. As she stepped closer, she could see the jagged tear in her brother's throat and the horrid bubbles of air popping in the liquid. Blood jetted from his jugular vein in a pulsating stream that sprayed over Jarod's clothing. In a matter of seconds, Lyle's neck, face and chest were a torn and shredded mess.

Jarod abruptly released his gasping victim. Lyle, choking on his own blood, fell to his knees in the puddle at Jarod's feet. The pretender turned and looked at Parker with dark, empty eyes that stared at her though a streaked mask of blood.

There was a clattering sound as Jarod dropped something to the floor and Parker stared at the item in sick fascination. It was a spoon. Garishly painted red from Lyle's wound, the spoon had been honed to a razor sharp edge with repeated stokes against a hard surface. With a glance at the spot where Jarod had been sitting, Parker could see the marks on the surface where Jarod had scraped the eating utensil against the concrete. As he had rocked continuously for more than three days, Jarod had ground the innocuous bit of metal into a horrifyingly lethal weapon.

Backing fearfully away, Parker found herself against the bars as Jarod took a step toward her. The main doors to the sim lab suddenly flew open as several sweepers dashed into the room. Their arrival drew Jarod's attention and he glared at them with a cruel smile.

Throwing himself against the bars Jarod grabbed a shaft of iron in each fist and shook them violently, making everyone jump. "RAINES!" Jarod yelled with a snarl. "RAINES!"

The other observers in the room stood dumbfounded. Jarod continued to rage on.

"RAINES!" He screamed again.

The object of Jarod's demands entered the room dragging his ever-present oxygen tank.

Jarod shook the bars again and laughed wildly. "Congratulations, Doctor Raines!" Jarod growled. "You FINALLY have the pretender you've ALWAYS wanted!"

As Jarod doubled over with maniacal laughter, Parker realized that she was screaming.

"Get her out of there." Raines ordered the sweepers. "Lyle too if he's still alive."

"No!" Jarod hissed, glaring angrily at the sweepers. "He's dead." Stalking to the edge of the cell, Jarod grinned madly. "They're all dead. WE are all dead. And this is HELL!"

Parker gasped for air and tried to reign in the panic within her. Her mind raced, frantically searching for a way to escape.

"I'm not dead, Jarod." She whispered tremulously.

The pretender turned toward her. As Jarod approached, Parker fought to hold her ground, denying the inner urge to flee. Jarod leaned in close until they were only inches apart. The smell of blood permeated everything as the pretender spoke in a deadly soft voice.

"We are all dead, Parker." Jarod repeated. He eyes, as empty and blank as a doll's, bore into hers like lasers.

Parker trembled uncontrollably. She had never been so terrified in her life. Her brain just couldn't accept the fact that she could be so afraid of her childhood friend. This thing before her was no longer the Jarod she had always known.

"We are dead, Parker." Jarod shook his head sadly. "That is why we can never free ourselves from the game. The Devil has to have his due." Jarod stroked Parker's cheek tenderly with his fingertips, leaving red streaks on her pale skin.

Parker shivered with revulsion.

There was a low shuffling sound behind them as four sweepers entered the cell. One of the guards was able to grab Lyle's now lifeless body and drag it through the door. Jarod sighed before he turned and faced the remaining men. Glaring down at the guns leveled at his chest, Jarod slowly paced across the width of the cage like a cat.

When he'd reached the corner, Jarod turned in a lightning fast move and surged toward the gunmen. Shots were fired but there were so many armaments in the room that two men went down in the crossfire.

"Hold your fire!" Parker screamed.

But it was too late. Jarod, clutching a rapidly reddening hole in his side, grinned wickedly over the body of a man. The sweeper's neck hand been broken with a violent twist.

In his right hand Jarod now held the dead man's sidearm.

Without batting an eye, Jarod strode through the door of the cell and into the sim lab as the gun in his hand went off with a repeatedly deadly accuracy. Parker was forced to crouch in to a ball on the floor as pandemonium broke out and gunfire zipped back and forth across the room.

Jarod took another hit in the shoulder before he managed to fell the remaining sweepers in the room. Alarm claxons began to blare around them but Jarod seemed oblivious to the noise. When the clip on his gun emptied, he nonchalantly dropped the pistol and calmly retrieved another from one of the dead men.

As the shots ceased, Parker carefully lifted her head to find only Jarod and Mr. Raines standing. She was just in time to see the pretender walk up to Raines, point the gun in his face and hiss, "Check mate."

When Jarod pulled the trigger, the bullet shot from the gun and entered Raines body through his left eye. Blood, brain tissue and bits of fragmented skull smacked on to the cement wall as Raines' life ended abruptly.

The pretender stepped gracefully over the body and strolled into the hallway without looking back.

Parker stood slowly, surveying the carnage around her. She gasped sharply when she saw Sydney against the far wall, gasping as he clutched his abdomen.

"Sydney!" Parker cried as she made her way toward him.

The psychiatrist had been struck in the flurry of bullets during the mayhem. At first glance, the wound didn't seem too bad. But the dark pool growing beneath him told a different tale.

"Sydney." Parker whispered again as she pulled him close.

The older man coughed, bringing bright red droplets to his lips. He struggled for air as his lungs began to fill with blood.

"Parker." He whispered. "You must save him, Parker. Free him from this place."

"Sydney." Parker whimpered as he clawed at the floor in pain.

"Help him." Sydney begged.

Parker could only nod as tears began to slide down her face.

Sydney labored for breath once more. "Forgive me, Jarod." He gasped. Then he was gone.

Forcing aside her grief, Parker stood. Pulling her weapon from her waistband, she left the sim lab and numbly walked down the hallway.

Following Jarod was an easy task. He'd left a trail of blood and destruction in his path.

The corridors of The Centre were in pandemonium. Panic-stricken employees were dashing about, wounded and dying littered the floor. Parker nearly tripped over another discarded gun, still smoking from the recent discharges.

Jarod would have no trouble finding another weapon. Nearly all of the Centre's employees were armed. The pretender could simply take whatever he needed.

As Parker followed Jarod up through the sub-levels, her cell phone began to ring. For several minutes she ignored it but the incessant buzz began to enrage her until she answered with a defeated snarl.

"What?"

"Miss Parker," It was Sam. "The pretender is trying to escape."

Parker nearly laughed at the absurdity of his statement. "Yes I know." She said.

"We are covering all the exits." Sam said rapidly. "But he's armed. He's killed several people."

"Yes, I know." She said softly. "He's gone mad."

"Do we have your permission to use deadly force if necessary?" Sam asked.

Parker gaped silently at the figure of Willy. He was lying in a twisted and broken pile on the landing as Parker climbed the stairwell. The body had evidently been thrown over the railing from several flights up.

"Miss Parker?" Sam's voice called through the phone.

Shaking herself sternly, Parker continued her trek. "Where are you, Sam?" she barked.

"The lobby." The sweeper told her.

"I'm on my way." She said. "I'll need a radio when I get there."

Several minutes later, Parker burst into the lobby. Sam handed her a radio that was crackling with excited voices as Centre security tried to track the pretender.

"I'm hit!" an unidentified voice cried through the speaker. "Send reinforcements! We're on level 10 in the main Tower corridor."

"Level 10?" Sam glanced at Miss Parker in confusion. "Why would he be above us?"

More voices jumbled together on the radio. These communications were punctuated by screams and rapid gunfire. "He's on level 12! He's - -" a voice blurted but was abruptly cut short by a sharp report.

Parker frowned, trying desperately to think.

Sam was equally confused. "He can't escape from the upper levels. There is no way out."

Understanding suddenly slammed into Parker like a fist. "He's not trying to escape." She cried. "He wants to be free."

She started running toward the elevators. "The roof!" Parker yelled. "He's headed for the roof!"

Minutes later, Parker burst through the heavy metal door that led to the roof of the tower with Sam only a few steps behind her. The area was deserted. Jarod was nowhere in sight. Parker panted heavily as she stood near the helipad and a calm breeze blew through her hair. She was still gasping for air when the door opened again and Jarod stepped into the sunshine.

Ignoring both Parker and her sweeper, Jarod gazed up at the bright blue sky and sighed. He walked across the rooftop increasing his speed as he moved until he was running. Discarding the gun in his hand Jarod dashed across the tarred surface and began clawing his way up the chain link fence at the edge of the building.

Parker began to chase after him but Sam reached the pretender first. Just as Jarod grabbed the barbed wire at the top of the fence, the sweeper jumped on his shoulders and dragged him back down to the rooftop, heedless of the wounds that tore into the pretender's palms.

Growling with animalistic rage, Jarod swung a fist at the stocky, shorter man and knocked him to the ground. Turning his back to Parker, Jarod began climbing the fence again. Sam stood and hauled the pretender down for a second time.

Dragging Jarod by the collar of his shirt, Sam pulled the struggling creature several yards and deposited him at Parker's feet. With a wail of outrage, Jarod pounded the concrete beneath him with his fists and then looked up at Parker tearfully.

"Please, Parker." Jarod pleaded. "Don't leave me like this." He gasped. "You know what they will do to me. What they will let me do to others. This is what they've wanted of me all along. Don't let them win."

"Miss Parker?" Sam asked. "Do you want me to call for backup?"

Kneeling before her, Jarod grasped her free hand between his own. "Please." He whispered as he closed his eyes prayerfully. Caressing her other arm with his fingertips, Jarod guided her hand from her side until the muzzle of her gun pressed against his chest. "Help me, Parker. Set me free."

"Miss Parker?" Sam repeated.

In a voice that seemed to come from somewhere else Parker said, "Sam, go watch the door. Don't let anyone else up here."

"But..," Sam started.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly for a moment she begged him. "Please Sam."

Nodding, Sam obeyed.

When Parker opened her eyes again, Jarod was holding her hand and the gun it held, directly over his heart. Her lower lip began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.

"I can't." she said sadly, shaking her head.

"Don't condemn me to a life filled with madness. This is the only way, Parker." Jarod gazed up at her with those deep brown eyes and, for a moment, the empty void that had been there disappeared. Parker saw his pain and despair. "Let me go." He urged.

Parker closed her eyes again and her body wilted. She sobbed brokenly as she felt Jarod's thumb close over her fingers and squeeze. Tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked. Even though she'd known it was coming, the gunshot that echoed through the spring morning made her flinch.

Jarod's hands slid away from hers and he crumbled to the ground.

Dropping her gun, Parker opened her eyes and looked down at the man lying there. A dark red stain, barely distinguishable from the rest of the blood of his clothing, was spreading across Jarod's chest. He was gazing up at the sky as he panted in rapid jerks.

Sitting down beside him, Parker rested the pretender's head in her lap.

"Don't cry, Parker." Jarod whispered. "It's finally finished. The pain is gone."

"Oh Jarod." Parker said sadly.

"Strange," Jarod said as a dazed look spread across his face. "I thought the end would hurt. Oh!" He breathed. "Look at that sky. What a beautiful day."

A moment later the brown eyes that gazed upward became vacant as life slipped out of the pretender's body.

Parker took in a ragged breath and screamed her misery at a sparkling blue, cloudless expanse above her.

Disclaimer: See an earlier chapter 04/26/03

-




Bridge of the Abyss Part 3



4:19 a.m.


By Phenyx


"I could count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams" Shakespeare's Hamlet

-

Sounds of a desperate scream filled with anguish wrenched Miss Parker into consciousness.

She sat bolt upright in bed, slick with sweat as she clawed at the quilt tangled beneath her. Disoriented and terrified, she gasped for breath while her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage. She swallowed hard, grimacing against the pain it caused. Only then, when she discovered the rawness of her throat, did Parker realize that the terrible shrieks echoing in her ears had been torn from her own troubled soul.

A quick glance at the clock revealed that the time was 4:19 AM.

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 04/27/03



Bridge of the Abyss Part 4



5:00 a.m.


By Phenyx


"They cherish each other's hopes. They are kind to each other's dreams." - Henry David Thoreau

-

The first peal of the phone jolted Jarod from sleep. Groping blindly in the dark for the device, he nearly knocked it from the end table gracelessly. The ring sounded a second time before Jarod was able to answer it.

"Hello?" the pretender slurred, hanging awkwardly off the side of his bed.

"What do you know?" Miss Parker's voice drawled alluringly. "I finally get to wake you up for once."

Jarod laughed softly at the teasing tone in Parker's voice. Blinking at the sudden brightness, he clicked on the lamp that stood nearby. Glancing quickly at the clock, Jarod realized that it was early, almost five o'clock in the morning. Knowing that his location was currently in the same time zone as Parker's, concern began to gnaw at the pretender's mind. The fact that she had called at all was unusual enough in itself.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She answered.

Jarod knew better than to take that statement at face value. Something was bothering her. He could hear it in Parker's voice. Holding the phone against his left ear with his right hand, as he tended to do, Jarod fluffed his pillow against the headboard and leaned up against it.

"You don't sound fine, Parker." Jarod said in a mildly scolding tone.

The resulting silence from her seemed forlorn.

"You're having trouble sleeping." Jarod stated with a sudden flash of insight.

"Yeah." Parker whispered almost unwillingly.

Jarod sighed. He wished there were someway to protect her from all this. To most of the world, Miss Parker seemed to be strong and tough as nails. But Jarod knew how fragile she could be at times. For now, there was little he could do but offer her the support and understanding she craved.

"Nightmares are a bitch." The pretender stated knowingly.

Parker's voice sounded so small, so lonely that Jarod was sorely tempted to drive to Delaware in order to check on her.

"I can't even remember the dream, Jarod." She sighed. "But it frightened me."

Jarod's mind began to race. Parker had been scared. She had woken up frightened. The pretender guessed that she had probably wandered through her empty house, turning on all the lights. An unknown, indefinable fear had left her in need of human contact. So Parker had called him.

It was a small thing, a lonely phone call in the wee hours of the morning. But Jarod closed his eyes and smiled at what this simple call through the night represented.

"Dreams can't hurt you, Parker." He said with a soothing reassurance.

Parker's voice was slightly muffled as she answered. "I'm not convinced of that."

There was a moment of silence over the line, followed by a deep rumble of thunder.

"It's raining there." Jarod commented.

"Your powers of deductive reasoning are astounding." Parker said sarcastically.

Jarod chuckled. "Well, yeah!" He answered playfully. "I am a genius you know."

Parker's laughter was low and sultry. Jarod sighed as he suddenly found himself imagining her current attire. Was she wearing a warm thick robe like the one she'd worn in Ocee's cabin? Or was she in one of her silkier items?

Jarod abruptly tossed back the blankets and stood up. He retrieved his jeans from the floor and started to pull them up his legs. It was a feeble attempt to resist the sensuous arousal that was creeping up on him, but an attempt none-the-less.

The pretender was fumbling with his belt buckle when Parker's voice asked curiously, "What are you doing?"

Jarod froze for a moment as though he'd been caught in the act of some heinous crime. "I'm putting my pants on." He said slowly.

"Why?" She asked innocently.

For a split second, Jarod was tempted to tell her. What would she say, Jarod wondered. Should he reveal the fact that talking to her while wearing nearly nothing was an incredible turn on? Opening his mouth, Jarod began to speak, cowardly putting a platonic spin on his words.

"It seems so vulnerable somehow, to be talking to you in nothing but my boxers." He said.

"You wear boxers?" Parker teased lightheartedly. "I always imagined you were a briefs kind of guy."

"You imagined me in my underwear?" Jarod asked with genuine surprise. That did it. Jarod sank back on to the bed to stare miserably at the ceiling. The tightness in his jeans now would surely require a lengthy, ice cold shower before he went anywhere today.

Parker chuckled at the shock in his voice. "I don't think I like where this conversation is going." She scolded playfully. "I didn't call to engage you in phone sex, Jarod."

"Phone sex?" he asked, nearly choking on the words. Good grief, did she know? Was she even remotely aware of the power she held over him?

"Well I am not going to be the one to explain the term to you." Parker gasped in exaggerated indignation. "Call a 900 number."

"I've tried that." Jarod said, grasping for some tendril of salvation. "But I don't think Miss Cleo can really see the future."

Parker laughed out loud.

Jarod grimaced. Her amusement was completely innocuous and without guile. She had turned to the pretender for comfort and here he was having lascivious thoughts. Jarod sighed and forced his mind to focus on the delightful laughter bubbling through the phone. It was a glorious sound that made Jarod smile.

"Feeling better?" He asked.

"Yes." Parker admitted with a whisper.

A long comfortable silence stretched between them before Parker finally said, "I should go. I have things to do."

"I suppose you've got a busy day ahead of you." Jarod smiled sadly.

"Hunting you down is a difficult job." She said simply.

"But it can be so much fun." Jarod teased.

"Yippee." Parker growled sarcastically.

Jarod grinned. God he loved it when Parker played the game with him. "Be nice Parker," he purred. "And I'll give you a hint." He paused for her reply.

Parker sighed and obligingly asked. "Well? What is the hint?"

"It's not raining here." The pretender snickered.

"Thanks, Pez-head. That really narrows it down for me." Parker sighed dramatically.

Jarod laughed. He was just about to hang up when she said softly, "Jarod?"

"Yes?" He answered.

"Thanks." The dial tone abruptly began buzzing in his ear as Parker disconnected the call.

Sighing again, Jarod continued to stare up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He smiled as he absently pressed the cell phone to his chest. When the pretender realized that the room was brightening with the rising sun, he stood up and stretched. He tossed his phone on the bed and watched the colors shifting in the sky outside his window.

With a final sigh, Jarod grinned to himself and shook his head in amazement.

"What a beautiful day." He said aloud.

Whistling merrily, Jarod headed to the bathroom for his shower.

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 05/01/03




Bridge of the Abyss



Deja Vu


By Phenyx


"History is often cruel, and rarely logical, and yet the wisest of realists are those who recognize that fate can indeed be shaped by human faith and courage." - Henry Kissinger

-Part 5-

Parker stared down in horror at the lukewarm coffee running across her desk in dirty brown rivulets. She grimaced, almost in pain, as she realized that the expensive silk blouse, purchased in Paris, was now ruined.

Tilting her head in mesmerized fascination, Parker watched the liquid drip to the ground, spattering her shoes with brown dots. The eerie sense of déjà vu that had been creeping in on her all morning intensified another notch.

Moving like an automaton, Parker slid her jacket from her shoulders and tried half-heartedly to clean up the mess on her desk.

Sydney walked into the office.

Parker glanced up at him. "What?" she asked.

"Have you seen Broots?" the psychiatrist asked.

Parker shook her head. "Not today." She sighed in resignation and gave up on her attempts to repair the coffee damage. "Get Carl in here." She said.

Sydney left returning a moment later with the young blond man that had been working as Parker's assistant for the past few weeks. Carl was young and reasonably attractive but in an effeminate sort of way. He didn't have the chiseled look to his features or physique that Parker found appealing.

"Clean this up." Parker ordered. "And find me another shirt."

"Yes, Ma'am." The young man said obediently.

The assistant glanced curiously at Miss Parker as she strode passed him. Parker was abruptly taken aback by the striking blue color of the man's eyes. The bright blue of his irises seemed unnatural somehow.

"Do you wear colored contacts?" She asked him suddenly.

Carl stared warily at his employer. "No ma'am. Should I?"

Parker shook her head sadly. She almost felt sorry for this young man. He'd been brought into The Centre by Lyle and assigned to Parker's section. As a result, Parker never had any intention of trusting the blonde boy. But, Parker had to admit, Carl did try very hard to please her.

Shaking her head to clear it, Parker pushed her assistant out of her mind and headed for the bathroom to remove her shirt.

"Sydney," she said as she crossed the room. "Broots should be here somewhere. Have him paged."

Sydney shrugged. "Perhaps he's had trouble because of the storm. He may have lost power at his place."

The older man's comment stopped Parker in her tracks as the odd sensation returned. Glaring fearfully at Sydney she noticed the color of his tie for the first time. "Syd?" She asked. "Is that a new tie?"

"No," Sydney frowned. "You've seen me wear it many times, Miss Parker. Why?"

Parker sighed. "For some reason, I find blue to be an irritating color today."

A dripping wet Broots appeared at the door. Parker nearly laughed, he looked so pitiful.

"Having a rough day, Broots?" Parker asked with a smile.

"Beautiful." The technician grumbled sarcastically. "I'm having a beautiful day."

The smile slid from Parker's face and she stared wide-eyed at the trio of men in the room. The feeling of déjà vu was rapidly increasing to the point of paranoia.

Sydney frowned. "Miss Parker, are you all right?"

Parker turned a worried glance in his direction. "No, Sydney. Don't think so."

"What is it, Miss Parker?" Broots asked.

"Something is wrong." She whispered. "I can feel it coming."

"What?" he asked.

"I wish I knew." Was her reply, "Where is Lyle?" she asked suddenly

Three men stared at her in ignorance.

Parker growled in frustration. "I want to know where he is. Now." She stomped into the lavatory and slammed the door behind her.

--

The darkness outside Parker's office window seemed thick and ominous. The niggling feeling of anxiety that had plagued her this morning had gradually grown throughout the day. Innocuous statements, innocently spoken by her staff, had served to intensify her nervousness. The sense of déjà vu wouldn't go away.

Now, glaring out at the darkened parking lot, Parker was convinced that her inner sense was trying to tell her something. Danger was lurking nearby. She could feel it. Her inability to identify what * it * was caused her frustration to rise to alarming levels.

"Miss Parker?"

Swirling around, Parker glared angrily at her young personal assistant. "Did I give you permission to come in?" she hissed.

"I knocked." Carl swallowed. "You must not have heard me. I may have found something important." The young man stepped up to her desk to hand her a crumpled slip of paper.

Parker snatched the note from Carl. It was a memo from the Triumvirate to Mr. Lyle.

"Your plan for subduing the rebellious nature of the subject has been approved. It is preferred that the terminations occur in one event in order to avoid suspicion from the authorities. The methods used shall be left to the discretion of The Centre." The paper read.

On the bottom portion of the paper, a pencil led had been brushed carefully across the sheet, revealing an impression caused by writing on an overlaying page. Two lines were barely legible, a time 11 PM, and an address 24642 Hempford Drive.

"I found it in Mr. Lyle's wastepaper basket." Carl said.

"This is it." Parker whispered. "I have to stop him."

The young man smiled slyly at her. "A Centre jet left Blue Cove early this afternoon headed for Indiana."

"Indiana?" Parker frowned. Adrenaline suddenly surged through her body. Urgency was essential. Her mind screamed at her to hurry. Grabbing her jacket from a nearby chair, Parker dashed toward the door. "Call the air strip." She barked as she ran. "I want to be in the air in ten minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am." Carl replied as he picked up the phone. But the office door had slammed shut behind her before he could finish his words.

Screeching to a halt on the tarmac, Parker jumped from her car and ran toward the waiting jet. As she bolted up the steps she growled. "Let's go. Let's go!"

Her inner sense began to whisper frantically, hissing in her ear. "Hurryhurryhurryhurry."

Fastening her seatbelt as the plane began to taxi down the runway, Parker closed her eyes and whispered a mental prayer to whatever fate had controlled her life. Lives were at stake in this. Parker wasn't sure who Lyle was targeting or why. She knew only that she had to stop him. Everything depended upon it. Everything.

--

"Hello." Jarod held his cell phone against his ear with one shoulder as he wiped his hands on a napkin.

"Jarod?" Parker's voice asked cautiously.

"Parker!" Jarod purred with surprise. Abandoning his half eaten slice of pizza, Jarod smiled. "Twice in one day. This is a treat."

"Shut up and listen." She snarled. "I've uncovered something important. Lyle is planning to kill someone. It's a Triumvirate sanctioned assassination."

"Who?" Jarod asked as the smile slid from his face.

"I don't know, but the memo I saw said something about a single event resulting in terminations, plural. More than one life is at stake." Parker said. "I have an address that I think may be the location but I'm still several hours away."

"And you thought that I might be closer." Jarod finished for her.

Parker shrugged. "I had hoped you might be." She admitted. "How far are you from Fort Wayne, Indiana?"

"I can be there by midnight." Jarod said quickly.

"This is going down at 11." Parker sighed in frustration.

"Then I'll be there by eleven." He said firmly. The urgency in Parker's voice alarmed Jarod. She sounded panicky and afraid.

Parker rattled off an address as Jarod slammed out the door. He didn't bother to waste time to collect any of his things. He would come back for them in a day or two. He jumped into his car and maneuvered on to the street.

"Hurry, Jarod." Parker's voice whispered tearfully through the phone. "We can't let this happen."

"We'll stop him, Parker." Jarod tried to reassure her. "We will."

A dial tone buzzed in Jarod's ear as Parker disconnected the call. Slipping the phone into his pocket, Jarod pressed down on the accelerator. He felt Parker's distress like a tangible thing. She was terrified. For the second time in one day, Parker was frightened and reaching out for help.

Jarod couldn't let her down.

--

The clock illuminated on the dashboard of Parker's rented car clicked from one minute to the next with alarming regularity. She drove as fast as she dared. The fear of being pulled over by the police and delayed in her journey, clawed at her mind.

It was 10:30. Parker estimated that it would take another twenty minutes or more to reach her destination. Anxiety forced her to increase her speed another notch as her vehicle zoomed down the rural two-lane highway. As she crested a small hill Parker came upon a light colored pickup truck in front of her. Annoyingly sticking to the posted speed limit, the vehicle chugged along, oblivious to the sedan now riding its bumper.

The two cars rounded a bend in the road and approached a straight section of the highway. Parker signaled and pressed on the gas pedal as she began to pass the slower vehicle. There was suddenly an ominous, low-pitched popping sound and the little truck began to shimmy in the lane. Parker reacted without thought, yanking the wheel to the left as the other driver abruptly lost control.

Parker was going too fast and she slammed on the brakes as her car swerved toward the truck. Holding her breath, Parker frantically tried to avoid a collision. The truck jerked, seeming to hop from the road as the front axel broke and the frame hit the road. Sparks flew as metal scraped against asphalt.

Yanking on the wheel hard in the opposite direction, Parker suddenly felt the sedan begin to spin beneath her. Like macabre dancers the two cars skidded in circles in the road. Parker was stunned motionless as the silver pickup truck flashed by, a bright blue racing stripe on its side.

The blue strip of color seemed to slash across Parker's vision like a blade. Gripping the wheel for all she was worth, Parker stared wide-eyed as the truck slid across the road and into the ditch. When the sedan finally came to a halt, the car was pointed in the wrong direction facing the ruined truck.

A moment later, a stunned Parker watched as the other driver climbed from his pickup and stumbled out of the ditch.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

Parker squeezed her eyes shut tightly but she could not banish the bright blue metallic color from her mind. Behind closed lids, Parker's eyes replayed the blue flash. Intertwined with it came a rush of memory. Parker's dream from that morning unraveled in her mind with an intense speed and clarity. She remembered the fire that was coming, the blood and the deaths. She remembered dark eyes, once twinkling with mischief, turned empty and dead, staring at a crystal blue sky.

"No." Parker whimpered. There had been no dream, Parker realized. The images that had terrified her so had been a vision. It had been her inner sense plaguing her, urging her on all day.

"Are you okay?" the driver of the pickup had reached Parker's window and was staring at her with concern.

Trembling violently, Parker wrenched her car into gear without answering. Tires squealed as she swung the car around and sped off through the night.

--

Parker rounded a bend in the road and saw a familiar farmhouse. Careening up the dirt-covered drive Parker leaned on the horn in an attempt to rouse the occupants. Throwing the car into park, Parker dashed from the car, glancing back only long enough to register the glowing digits on the instrument panel.

"We're out of time." She whimpered.

Parker ran across the grassy yard. To her left, she saw a clothesline draped with freshly laundered sheets. The floral pattern on the cotton danced merrily in the light breeze, cruelly teasing Parker with a menace that only she could understand.

"ETHAN!" Parker began to scream.

Pounding up the steps and onto the porch, Parker didn't bother with the door. Yanking her gun from the holster at her back, Parker kicked violently at the front door. The wooden panel was no match for her panic-stricken ferocity. It burst open easily, rebounding against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

Standing wild-eyed in the hallway, Parker screamed again. "ETHAN!" Pointing her gun out the door she had just come through, Parker fired several rounds, hoping to wake any sleeping inhabitants and alert them to danger.

Major Charles suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Miss Parker?" He asked in surprise.

Additional members of Jarod's family stood behind the major in a bright room that seemed to be the kitchen. Ethan was among them.

Parker focused on her little brother and shot him a thought of pure panic. Ethan started to move away into the other room.

"No!" Parker cried as she ran after him. Tears of frustration sprung to her eyes. "GET OUT!" she yelled at the stunned group gathered before her. A young woman, presumably Jarod's sister Emily, stood dumbfounded, staring at Parker in horror.

"There's a bomb!" Parker screamed. Grabbing the girl by the shoulder, Parker shoved her toward another doorway, a side entrance that Ethan was already dashing through. "MOVE!" Parker demanded.

Suddenly, everyone was in motion at once. The Major grabbed his wife's arm and dragged her along with him as he propelled Emily forward. "Let's go, Jack!" He commanded.

A wide-eyed teenaged boy with dark hair spilling into his eyes, stood beside the kitchen table with an ice cream scooper in his hand. Weeping with urgency, Parker dashed to his side and yanked the boy forward by the collar of his shirt. Hauling the boy at her side Parker stumbled out the door only a few steps behind the rest of the family.

Parker felt the explosion more than she heard it. There was an abrupt gust of intense heat at her back as Parker was lifted into the air and pushed forward by the blast. Green grass rushed up to meet her as Parker slammed into the ground. She rolled onto her back just in time to see bright orange flames burst from the upper windows of the house. Black smoke began to block out the stars as Parker gasped and lost consciousness.

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 05/04/03




Bridge of the Abyss Part 6



Altering Destiny


By Phenyx


"Good luck is another name for tenacity of purpose." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

-

Parker was unconscious for only a few moments. Acrid smoke stung her nostrils as she blinked into wakefulness. The farmhouse was in full blaze now, casting eerily familiar shadows across the dark yard.

"Are you okay?" Ethan was bent over her, frowning with concern.

Parker moaned and sat up with a shaky nod.

"Charles!" Parker heard a woman yell not far away.

Grimacing at the headache throbbing in her temples, Parker sat up and quickly surveyed the physical damage. She hadn't broken anything. Aside from the impending migraine, she seemed fine. Looking up, Parker saw that Ethan was similarly unharmed. In an uncharacteristic burst of relief, she threw her arms around her little brother and hugged him fiercely.

Releasing Ethan abruptly, Parker glanced around the yard. Emily was sitting in the grass blinking in wonder at the burning house. Major Charles was running to his wife's side.

"Jack is hurt." The older woman said to her husband.

The teenager, evidently named Jack, was writhing in pain on the ground. His mother knelt at his side, holding one hand tightly between her own. The major crouched beside the boy and lovingly caressed the hair away from his damp forehead. Parker could see the concern etched on the older couple's faces as the major searched around him frantically.

Parker crossed the few feet that separated them and knelt in the grass above the boy's head. An eight-inch shaft of splintered wood protruded from the young man's shoulder. Blood oozed slowly from the wound turning the boy's t-shirt red.

As Parker stared in awe at the youngster, he looked up at her with pleading, pain filled eyes. The strange sensation that she'd been here before descended upon her again. But this feeling of déjà vu wasn't from her vision. The pain in young Jack's eyes was so much like that she had seen in Jarod's so many years ago. The pleading look the boy gave her was identical to the looks Jarod had once given her. Looks she had seen, but had turned away from.

She couldn't turn away any longer. Running her fingers through the young man's hair, Parker whispered. "Its okay Jack. It's only a flesh wound. You'll be okay."

"Hurts." The boy gasped.

"I know." Parker purred. "Hang on, Jack. Jarod will be here soon. He'll take care of it."

At Parker's words, the major and his wife both glanced at her in surprise. "Jarod?" His mother whispered hopefully.

As though uttering his name had conjured him up, a car skidded to a halt in the drive behind Parker's sedan and the pretender bounded from the driver's seat.

"Parker?" Jarod called from across the grass.

"You're late." She scolded him half-heartedly.

For a moment, Jarod stood in stunned disbelief as he stared at the family gathered before him. Emily abruptly laughed in nervous reaction to the emotional overload. The sound of her voice snapped Jarod from his silence and he rushed toward his parents, arms spread wide.

Wrapping one another in a warm embrace, Jarod and his folks laughed as they finally reunited after so many years.

Parker smiled and turned away in an effort to give the small group a measure of privacy. She smirked wryly at the young man lying in the grass beside her.

"Hey," Jack whined. "There's a child bleeding here."

Tugging a cotton scarf from her neck, Parker pressed the material against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. "Don't be a baby." She growled playfully. "It looks worse than it is."

The boy, though obviously in pain, was still smirking timidly. "It feels worse than it looks."

Parker allowed Jarod to bask in his mother's warm reception for a minute longer before she interrupted, "Jarod," she called. "The boy is injured."

Jarod's mother Margaret gasped fretfully and turned back to her younger son. "Jack," she said, tenderly stroking the child's hair. "This is your eldest brother, Jarod."

The youngster rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Yeah, Mom." He sighed. "We met. It was Jarod that busted this little experiment out of the lab, remember?"

"Hey." Jarod frowned as he knelt beside them. He quickly inspected the boy's wound as he spoke. "Don't be a smart ass with your mother."

"I am an adolescent." Jack said with a grimace. "I'm supposed to be a smart ass."

Jarod grinned at the boy merrily. Then, without warning or hesitation, Jarod grabbed the shaft of wood and yanked it out of Jack's arm. Before the boy's strangled cry had faded, Jarod had reapplied the makeshift bandage and wrapped the shoulder in a strip of cotton torn from Jarod's top shirt.

As he tied Jack's arm against his chest with a sling made from the rest of the shirt, Jarod said, "I'm afraid that's going to leave a permanent mark buddy."

"Probably." Jack agreed with a sigh.

"No problem." Parker said, ruffling the young man's hair as he sat up. "Chicks dig scars."

"They do?" Jarod and his young clone asked simultaneously.

Parker sighed in exasperation.

"Daddy?" Emily called, drawing everyone's attention. "Do you think we should wait for the authorities to arrive?"

"No!" Parker cried. Turning to Jarod she explained, "Lyle will be here any minute with half a dozen sweepers."

"How much time have we got?" the pretender asked.

"I'm not sure." Parker shrugged. "They're not far behind me." She didn't bother to explain how she knew and Jarod didn't ask. Parker wasn't quite ready to examine her motivations right now, let alone try to explain them to a curious pretender.

Jarod turned toward his father. "Do you have a vehicle that can carry us all?"

The major nodded. "There's a passenger van in the garage." He said, pointing toward a structure not far away.

Jarod and his father helped Jack stand and they all started moving toward the garage. They'd nearly reached their destination when the sound of several cars roared up the drive. Moving in unison like a well-trained military troupe, the entire family eased up to the far edge of the lone structure and hid in the shadows.

"What do we do now?" Emily hissed.

Easing Jack into Ethan's care, Jarod turned toward Miss Parker. "I'll create a diversion. You get them to the van and away from here."

Margaret clutched at Jarod's arm. "No! Jarod, we have to stay together."

Prying his mother away, Jarod reassured her. "It's going to be okay, Mother. Parker will protect you." He turned toward Parker and said, "Get on the main highway and head east. If I don't catch up to you in the next twelve hours, we'll contact each other through Ben."

Parker responded with a curt nod and then Jarod was gone, vanished into the darkness and smoke like a wraith. Jarod hadn't questioned Parker's allegiance. He'd never doubted her. He had simply placed his precious family in her care and she had accepted the responsibility without hesitation.

Margaret started to move out of the shadows to follow the son she had only just found. But Parker hauled her back into hiding.

"I won't lose him again." The older woman growled in frustration.

Parker yanked on the woman's arm hard. "Don't blow this for him." Parker hissed. "Do what Jarod says, exactly as he says, and we may all get out of this alive." Determination flared in Parker's eyes. "We've cheated fate once tonight. We can't afford to push it much further."

Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness as Parker hushed the group of refugees in her care. Peering around the corner, Parker watched as Lyle and his sweepers poured out of two cars. Raines was slithering out of the second automobile when a shout went up.

A shadow dashed across a field on the opposite side of the burning house.

"Jarod!" Lyle yelled. "After him!"

As intended, Lyle and his sweepers all took off after the fleeing pretender. They crossed a field and disappeared into a wooded area. Raines hauled his oxygen tank several hundred yards but did not go into the field itself.

"Quickly and quietly." Parker whispered. "Let's go."

Parker stayed in the shadows, watching Raines for several moments, giving the others time to get ready. Dashing in to the garage, Parker slid into the van's front passenger seat. Major Charles was behind the wheel.

With a screeching of tires and a huge crash, the Major revved the vehicle and collided with the garage door, splintering the entrance and shooting on to the driveway.

"Hang on, everyone!" The major called as the van swerved around the many cars now blocking the way.

Bumping through the grass, the vehicle sped across the yard. When they reached the road, the van fishtailed slightly as it hit the asphalt. A moment later, they were racing down the street toward the main highway.

"Ethan." Parker ordered. "Watch the back."

Her little brother nodded perfunctorily and switched seats with Emily so that he had an unobstructed view out the rear window.

Jarod's mother sniffled in despair. "We shouldn't have left Jarod behind." She moaned. "Those men will kill him if he gets caught."

"You underestimate Jarod." Parker said. "He'll get away. Even if he does get caught, The Centre doesn't want him dead."

Glancing furtively at Parker as he drove down the road, Major Charles said, "I thought that you were The Centre, Miss Parker."

Staring at the older man with wide eyes, Parker whispered. "I was." Looking one at a time at the faces of Jarod's family, she added, "I think I may have just resigned."

The enormity of what was happening abruptly hit Parker like a fist in the gut. Her world was now gone, vaporized in the explosion that had been meant for these people. There was no going back. The unknown loomed ahead of her like an ominous shade.

Shaking her head, Parker forced away the anxiety rising within her. She shoved her misgivings into a dark corner of her soul and slammed a tight lid over those emotions.

As they approached the rural two-lane highway, Parker said, "Jarod wants us to head east."

For a moment, it looked like the Major might debate the wisdom of going in that direction. But when they reached the intersection, he maneuvered the vehicle to the right so that they were headed in the correct direction.

Parker carefully watched out her window as the landscape roll by. The road curved and Parker could see in the distance, a red glow above the trees. They had doubled back the way they had come. Parker could see the smoke rising from the burning farmhouse less than a mile away.

Understanding what Jarod had intended Parker scanned the darkness, looking for the pretender. As they approached another bend in the road, she thought she saw a shadow moving among the trees. It wasn't until Jarod reached the top of a steep rise that Parker could be sure it was him.

"There he is!" Parker said, pointing.

Watching Jarod run along the ridge at top speed, Parker glanced at the road, gauging where he would emerge from the woods. There was a car coming from the opposite direction. She frowned as she realized that Jarod would have to cross the road to reach the van. With the steep incline he was now descending, Jarod would not be able to see the oncoming car until he was nearly on top of it.

Parker could see the collision coming but there was simply nothing she could do to stop it. Jarod barreled down the hill, appearing and disappearing among the trees. The other car, oblivious to the pedestrian in the dark, kept coming.

The Major, in an attempt to prevent the coming disaster, slammed on his brakes and leaned on the horn. But it was too late. Jarod burst from the tree line and onto the road. It was difficult to tell whether the car ran into Jarod or Jarod ran into the car.

Brakes screeched as Jarod flew over the hood of the vehicle. He slammed into the windshield, leaving a spider's web of cracks in the glass. A woman screamed, her voice reverberating within the confines of the van.

Jarod's body rolled off the car and flopped like a rag doll to the pavement.

Parker felt her heart stop beating. All motion around her seemed to freeze while her mind raced frantically. Ominous fragments of thought and irony flitted through her brain.

"I couldn't stop it," she whispered in anguish. "Couldn't change destiny. The story of our lives was never ours to change."

Parker sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the dark shape lying in the street. Some part of her registered the continuing screams from nearby but the rest of Parker's psyche began to shut down.

As a result, when the bundle of leather and denim began to move, Parker wasn't quite sure what was happening. Jarod groaned and rolled to his knees. Pulling himself up with one hand on the hood of the car, he grimaced. Waving cheerily to the stunned driver, Jarod began to limp across the road, clutching at his side.

Just as he reached the van, his mother threw open the door. He stepped into the vehicle and collapsed into the older woman's arms.

"Go!" the pretender barked.

For the second time in as many hours, Parker fled the scene of an accident as the van zoomed away through the night.

Disclaimer: The Pretender and its related characters don't belong to me. There is no money involved here and no copyright infringement is intended. This is all just my humble way of paying tribute to a really entertaining show that I miss a great deal. 05/04/03




Bridge of the Abyss Part 7



Bridge Over the Abyss


By Phenyx


"There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning." - Thornton Wilder

-

It was just after 3:30 in the morning. They'd driven from Fort Wayne to Chicago, stopping only long enough to refuel the van. Now, Jarod and his family stood in a dark alley behind an abandoned warehouse in the waterfront district.

"Is this where you live, Jarod?" Emily asked, hugging herself from the chill in the air.

Pulling a key chain from his pocket, Jarod flashed his sister a grin. "Occasionally." He quickly flipped through the several keys on the ring, picked one and slid it into the lock on the door.

Sliding the heavy door open, Jarod ushered his family into the dark interior.

Emily said, "Home, sweet home, eh?"

"No." Jarod replied. He flipped a large metal switch and lights abruptly illuminated the area. "This is more like a safe house. Someplace to hide when I'm in this part of the country."

Parker glanced around in mild curiosity. There was an old metal press bolted to the floor to the right of the entrance. Other than that rusting hunk of junk, the area was wide open and spacious, with no ceiling. The roof was twenty feet up.

Thick wooden posts, scattered randomly through the building, held up the rafters. The floors were hard wood, stained dark with years of toil. Huge windows circled the room high above, lining the walls just below the eaves.

Jarod had obviously been here before. Tucked in one corner was a flashy colored motorcycle with a black helmet balanced on the seat. Just a few steps away from the bike there was a sporty vehicle of some kind, shrouded under a car blanket.

A living area had been set up on the far side of the building. A kitchenette lined the far wall. A bed, little more than a cot, was set up next to a huge, well-worn butcher's block table. A single chair and one lamp made up the rest of the furniture in the room. Sitting conspicuously alone on the floor was an old rotary dial telephone.

It took Parker all of thirty seconds to register these facts and interpret them as they pertained to her former prey. Jarod had stayed here. The vehicles he had stored in this building were of little practical use but they were fun. The pretender hadn't wanted to give them away yet. The phone was obviously one of the many phone lines through which he routed his notorious late night calls.

Parker guessed that Jarod probably had a post office box not far from here. That was where the bills would be. An electric bill, phone bill, and the rent. He would have some lackey check the box for him on a regular basis and make sure everything was paid promptly. It would be this paper trail that would prevent Jarod from staying here often.

There was a glaring omission of personal nick-nacks. No newspapers lying about or Pez dispensers to be found.

Parker knew that this was a locale of necessity. It was simply a phone number that doubled as a handy storage space for a couple of Jarod's larger toys. If she looked hard enough Parker figured she'd probably find some identification and cash funds hidden away in case of emergencies.

Jarod turned and looked at his mother with a frown. "I've got a sleeping bag in the closet, but I'm afraid some of us will have to rough it on the bare floor."

"Jack should have the cot." Major Charles said. "I don't want that wound to start bleeding again.

Jarod nodded. "I suppose the ladies will need to slug it out over the sleeping bag." He grinned.

Parker crossed her arms and wandered away pensively.

Jarod frowned as he watched her move away. He was worried about her. Parker had been uncommonly withdrawn during the drive. She didn't act angry or upset, in itself an unusual occurrence. She seemed almost dazed, as though someone had tossed a bucket of water on the flame that burned in her personality.

Forcing the concern from his mind, Jarod walked to the closet and yanked a rolled sleeping bag from an upper shelf. There was a pull on his ribs, causing Jarod to hide a grimace. He ached everywhere. But rather than say anything to upset his parents, Jarod suppressed his pain.

Jarod tossed the bundle to his father. Reaching back into the closet, Jarod found a shirt and a clean pair of jeans. "There is a first aid kit in the cabinet above the sink." He said to his father. "You can apply fresh bandages to Jack's shoulder." Turning to the weary boy Jarod added. "There's acetaminophen for the pain."

Jack sighed tiredly. "Great!" he said thankfully.

Jarod grinned and patted the boy's good shoulder. "I'm going to wash off some of the grime. Anyone want to use the bathroom before they turn in?"

For several minutes, there was a burst of activity as everyone prepared for bed. By the time Jarod actually got to the lavatory himself, Jack's shoulder had been tended and the boy was quickly on his way to sleep. The rest of the family was getting situated and settling in for what was left of the night. Parker was leaning against the counter watching the others.

Jarod caught her eye for a moment and sent her a questioning look. But Parker's only reply was to look away quickly, behaving as though she hadn't seen him. Jarod frowned again. Shrugging helplessly, he went into the restroom and closed the door behind him.

The tiled room was large by any standards. It had once been a public facility, with several stalls along one wall. Jarod had removed the multiple toilets, leaving only one. He'd been practicing his skills with plumbing at the time. In preparation for a pretend in that profession, Jarod had gone to great lengths with the renovations in this room.

As a result, this modern bathroom was a stunning contradiction to the sparse accoutrements of the rest of the building. Multi-colored ceramic tiled the walls, the floor and even the ceiling in geometric patterns. The faucets gleamed brass and a long counter along the wall enclosed a double sink.

In the corner was a tiled platform that held the large bathtub. Jarod slipped his jacket off his shoulders as he began to run very hot water into the tub. Quickly shedding the rest of his clothing, Jarod looked in the mirror that covered one wall in order to examine the damage done by the car earlier in the evening.

Thankfully, Jarod hadn't hit his head but there was an angry bruise along his ribs on the right side. His leather coat had protected him from abrasions but there were two large lumps on his forearms where he'd hit the pavement. On Jarod's left hip was another large and painful bruise caused by the initial impact with the moving car.

Biting his lower lip to contain his grunts of pain, Jarod pressed at the swollen blotch on his torso, feeling along each rib individually as he searched for broken bones. After several minutes, Jarod was convinced that hairline cracks in two ribs was the worst of the damage. Nothing was broken.

Breathing heavily as his side throbbed, Jarod wiped away the sweat that had beaded on his brow. Jarod stepped into the tub and sighed with relief as he lowered himself into the steaming hot liquid. Sinking into the still rising water, Jarod leaned his head against edge of the tub and closed his eyes.

With a sense of wonder, Jarod replayed the events of the past several hours in his mind. He had led a sweeper team on a merry chase through the woods. He'd nearly been run over by a car. He had miraculously been reunited with his family. It had been an incredible night. Parker had even left The Centre behind her, at long last.

Jarod frowned again as he thought of Parker. He turned off the water spigot with the toes on one foot and stared at the ceiling fretfully. She wasn't behaving like the Parker that Jarod was used to. Unable to pinpoint what was bothering her, Jarod eased himself low in the tub, submersing his head. He blew lazy bubbles through his nose as the heat began to loosen the aches in his sore muscles.

The pretender sat back up with a sigh. Running both hands across his head, Jarod slicked his wet hair back on his head and pillowed his neck against the edge of the tub without bothering to open his eyes.

Jarod sensed a presence in the room. When the soft voice finally spoke, Jarod wasn't the least bit surprised.

"You've probably broken those ribs." Parker said with a softly scolding tone.

Jarod rolled his head to the side so that he could see her as he opened his eyes. "I've cracked two. But there's no break."

He watched Parker's face as she frowned at the large black and purple blemish on his side. Jarod thought he saw something soften in those steel gray eyes. It was a sad, fearful look that made Jarod worry.

Stepping closer to the tub, Parker offered Jarod an object hidden in her hand. "I brought you the Advil." She said with a shrug, handing him the little bottle. "I figured you might need it."

"Thanks." Jarod said with a wry grin. "I do feel as though I've been hit by a truck."

The strange look flitted across Parker's face again. "It's not funny, damn it." She said in a sharp voice. "You could have been killed."

"Since when has that prospect bothered you, Parker?" Jarod teased playfully.

Parker gasped. "I've never wanted you dead, Jarod." She whispered, hurt by his accusation.

"I know that." Jarod said gently. "If you had, I'd have gotten a bullet in the heart a long time ago."

Parker flinched and abruptly turned away. Jarod could see her reflection in the mirror as she hugged her arms tightly around her. He was startled to realize that her lower lip was trembling.

The scene was so odd, Jarod thought. He was sitting nude in a tub full of water, talking to Miss Parker as the ice queen herself fought off tears. "Maybe you did hit your head." He thought to himself.

Parker stared at the peculiar image of their reflection. Jarod sat there naked as the day he was born. Parker should have been able to exert some measure of authority over him considering the vulnerability of his current position. Yet the pretender looked up at her with concern written across his face, unfazed by their incongruent situation.

Tilting his head curiously, Jarod said questioningly, "Parker?" The tenderness in his voice affected her more than she could admit. The tight hold Parker had held on her strained emotions slipped and she fought desperately to hang on to it.

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, Parker battled with her raw nerves. The roller coaster ride of terror she'd been on tonight had drained her to the point of exhaustion. She knew she shouldn't be here. The last thing her frazzled psyche needed was another verbal jousting match with the lab rat.

But Parker just could not make herself leave the room. As in the days when they were children, Parker felt herself drawn to her old friend. Like a lost and lonely waif, she needed to see him, to know that he was okay. She needed to know that she was not alone.

In the darkness behind her closed lids, the memory of Jarod's life slipping away shimmered before her. Her eyes snapped open with fear and she whirled around to stare at the man who was watching her so intently.

"You're frightened." Jarod stated simply. "Please, tell me why?"

Parker lowered her eyes, unwilling to discuss anything yet. Frantically attempting to ease her raging mind, Parker found herself gazing at the lithe form of Jarod's body.

Even bruised and battered as he was, Jarod was a delicious sight. His broad shoulders angled to his narrow waist in perfect symmetry. The definitively ribbed structure of his abdomen led down to muscular thighs. Every inch of the pretender's body seemed perfectly proportioned to his long frame. Parker snuck a peek at Jarod's more intimate regions and found them to be equally well formed.

"Parker." Jarod growled a soft warning. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

Looking into those deep brown eyes, Parker felt the gentle acceptance in Jarod's gaze. Taking another step toward the tub, Parker was drawn in Jarod's direction as though an invisible string connected them. A deep longing swelled within her and Parker felt her hard emotional veneer begin to crack.

Her lower lip quivered as she whispered, "Make it all go away, Jarod."

"I can't," he answered gently. "Not until you tell me what it is. If I know the problem, I can help you. Together you and I can handle anything, Parker." Jarod's voice and smile vibrated with conviction.

It was the confidence in Jarod's voice that shattered Parker's final defenses. Moving only on instinct, Parker quickly slipped out of her clothing. Ignoring Jarod's look of surprise, Parker stepped into the tub and sat down in the water between his thighs with her back toward Jarod.

Sliding close to the pretender so that her back pressed against his chest, Parker grabbed one of Jarod's wrists and wrapped his arm around her midsection. Following her lead, Jarod snaked his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Don't let go." Parker whispered tearfully. "Don't ever let go."

"Parker!" Jarod gasped. "You're trembling."

The hours long battle with shock and fear finally ended as Parker submitted to them, abruptly bursting into quiet tears.

Jarod hugged Parker firmly against him. Burying his face in her hair, Jarod held her tight as Parker's sobs grew. "You're scaring me, Parker." He whispered into her ear. "Please talk to me."

Heaving breaths between her tears Parker gasped, "I remembered the dream. I remember it all."

She told him everything, holding back not even the slightest detail. Sobbing throughout the narrative, Parker told Jarod about her vision. She told him about the silver pickup truck with the blue metallic racing stripe. She detailed the experience of arriving too late at the farmhouse. Parker described the shrouded bodies, Jarod's capture and subsequent return to The Centre. She told him about the cemetery and the burials of his family members.

Words flowed from Parker's mouth like ooze from an infected wound as she recounted the terrifying attack on Lyle, the spattered blood, and Sydney's last words. She told Jarod about the gruesome chase through the hallways of The Centre and her certainty of the mad pretender's destination.

Finally Parker described their final moments on the roof, Jarod's pleas for the only freedom left to him. She flinched as she told him about the single gunshot echoing through a perfect spring day.

"You died in my arms." Parker whispered miserably.

"But I didn't." Jarod soothed. "I'm right here. You saved us."

Hiccupping between her tears, Parker cried. Small rivers ran down her cheeks as she said, "The hell of it is, Jarod, I don't give a damn about rescuing your folks. Even Ethan's death I could have handled. I'd have mourned him but I would have survived."

Jarod's hands, warm and wet from the bath water, caressed little circles on Parker's shoulder blade as she talked.

"But Jarod," Parker swallowed. "Every sorrow I've ever endured in my life has been made bearable by your presence."

Jarod gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"Who will help me through the anguish of losing you?" Parker whispered as the sobs overwhelmed her.

"You won't lose me." Jarod vowed holding Parker tight.

Parker shook her head in futility. "It was so close tonight, Jarod. First there was the fire, then that car. I nearly lost you twice."

"I'm here." Jarod murmured into her hair, moisture building in his own eyes.

A strange sensation started to build in Jarod's chest. A happiness unsurpassed by anything Jarod had ever felt, grew from the knowledge that this incredible woman needed him. But at the same time, there was an agonizing sadness at Parker's pain and Jarod's inability to ease her anguish.

"You won't lose me." Jarod promised again as he hugged Parker to his chest.

Clutching at the strong arms wrapped around her middle, Parker dissolved into exhausted weeping. Years of tightly bottled up misery rushed to the surface, pouring from her tormented soul in a cathartic release.

Jarod caressed Parker's skin and whispered soothingly into her ear for a long time before she finally cried herself out. Slowly relaxing into the safety of Jarod's arms, Parker leaned her head back against his shoulder.

Parker lazily dribbled water from her fingertips across Jarod's thigh. Jarod's leg was bent at the knee so Parker was alternating between caressing the smooth skin on the inside of his knee and running water droplets through the curling hair on his leg.

The bathwater had gone cold some time ago, but neither of them was inclined to move.

Looking over her shoulder, Parker saw Jarod with his eyes closed. His head rested against the edge of the tub wearily.

"News flash, Pez-head." Parker scolded lightly. "You've got a naked woman between your legs. Most men wouldn't fall asleep at a time like this."

Jarod opened his eyes and grinned playfully. "I'm not most men." Running his fingertips up Parker's arm, he added, "I refuse to take advantage of a woman while she's having a nervous breakdown."

Parker sighed. "God, is that what this is?"

"Pretty close." Jarod agreed.

A small smile curved Parker's lips. "You may never get an opportunity like this again."

"I'll take my chances." Jarod grinned mischievously. "I think the odds are stacked pretty well in my favor."

Parker sniffed haughtily. "You're awfully damned sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes I am." He answered confidently.

They laughed quietly together. After a moment Parker turned toward him and said, "I'm feeling one hundred percent better, Jarod. You wouldn't be taking advantage." She offered.

Running his index finger over her eyebrow, he said softly, "Not tonight, Love." Jarod smiled. "It's nearly dawn. We haven't much time. And when our relationship goes there, I'm going to need all night long."

One delicate brow rose on Parker's forehead. "All night?" she asked in a deadpan voice. "Do you think you have that kind of stamina?"

"After thirty years of fantasies?" Jarod growled playfully. Snarling melodramatically into Parker's hair he said," Woman, the things I am going to do to you will make the angels weep."

Parker laughed delightedly and snuggled back into Jarod's arms. She was physically and emotionally drained. But huddled in Jarod's warm embrace, Parker felt safe and protected. It was a feeling she had nearly forgotten.

"Parker?" Jarod said gently. "As much as I am truly enjoying this, we should really get out of this freezing water and try to get some sleep."

They spent an intriguing couple of minutes drying one another off with large white bath towels. The tenderness Jarod displayed as he squeezed moisture from Parker's hair made her heart swell. Jarod then gave her the clean shirt to wear while he slid into the pair of jeans he'd found in the closet.

With one of the towels draped over his shoulder, Jarod took Parker by the hand and they padded barefoot to the next room. The lights were all off but moonlight filtering down from the windows provided enough illumination to guide the way.

Picking an arbitrary spot, Jarod lay down on the floor and propped his head on the folded towel. He held a hand out toward Parker, who took it unhesitatingly. The pretender folded her into his arms, curling Parker against his chest with ease, as if they had done this a hundred times.

"Comfy?" He whispered, draping his leather jacket over them both.

Stretched out on top of Jarod, with her head pillowed against his bare chest, was just about the warmest, safest feeling Parker had ever experienced.

"Very." She murmured with a small smile.

Jarod fell asleep almost instantly, a skill Parker had always envied. Even as worn out as she was, Parker feared she might lie awake for hours. But the reassuring warmth of Jarod's body combined with the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear calmed Parker's mind. Wrapped securely in a protective embrace, Parker drifted into unconsciousness within minutes.

--

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, unseasonably warm for this early in spring.

Jarod and his family had left the warehouse in Chicago this morning after only a few hours of rest. Parker had been correct in her assumption that there had been cash hidden somewhere in the place. Jarod suddenly had an impressive sum of money stuffed in his pockets.

As they had left the city, the group had stopped at a mega-mall and spent a hilarious couple of hours shopping. Seeing as everyone had fled the farmhouse last night with nothing but the clothes on their backs, they needed everything from toothbrushes and underwear to shoes and jackets.

Jarod had subjected his parents to his strange sense of humor for the first time. He'd shelled out more than $200 to have all his clothing monogrammed. Even his t-shirts and underwear now held the insignia J.M.C., representing his given name, Jarod Michael Caulfield.

They'd been standing beside a magazine rack in the bookstore, buying a newspaper, when Jarod suddenly grabbed his mother and blurted, "When is my birthday?"

"October 15th." She had answered with an indulgent smile.

With a gleeful chuckle, Jarod said, "I'm a Libra." He glanced meaningfully at Parker.

Overnight, there had been a subtle change in the relationship between Jarod and Miss Parker. They were never far from each other, even holding hands at one point as they strolled through the mall.

Jarod plucked a paperback from a nearby shelf. It was one of those zodiac books devoted to the sign of Libra. Flipping through the first few pages Jarod read,

"Libras are stimulated mentally with a detached perspective. They are motivated and recharged by intellectual concepts. The Libra approaches the world with reason, balance, and a sense of fairness. Everything is open to analysis. Even-handed, harmonious, artistic, diplomatic, balancing, and strong sense of aesthetic beauty are characteristics typically associated with Libra.

Ruled by the planet Venus and symbolized by the Scales of Justice, Libra is concerned with making choices, weighing the evidence, and maintaining balance. Barring other factors in your chart, Libra is quite social and sensitive to what's going on around them. So for Libra's own sense of harmony, they often end up acting as peacemakers in their environment."

Jarod winked at Parker and the two of them had laughed until tears ran down their faces.

As the day had grown warmer and the afternoon approached, Jarod had been consumed by the desire to have a family picnic. So once they had finished at the mall, there had been a trip to the grocery store where Jarod had purchased paper plates, soda, hot dogs and a multitude of other items the pretender seemed to think were necessary for such an event.

It had taken some effort to find a place for their picnic. Finally they had by chance come across a state park, complete with walking trails, wooden tables, and barbeque grills.

Now the entire family sat around a picnic table covered with the remains of the large meal. For hours they had talked about a variety of subjects as they munched on chips, potato salad and watermelon. Jarod was enraptured as, with each word, he learned more about himself and the family that he had been denied for so long.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat so much." Emily chided her big brother. "You should be as big as a house."

Parker smiled affectionately at the tall man sitting beside her. Jarod's dark eyes sparkled with unabashed joy as he laughed at Emily's lighthearted teasing.

"I do a lot of running." Jarod grinned.

Parker shook her head in amusement. When Jarod caught her smirk, he asked, "What?"

Smiling again Parker said tenderly, "You're in heaven aren't you, Jarod?"

Jarod's grin widened. "Not quite, but I'm in the general neighborhood." He replied.

A refreshment stand several hundred yards away caught Parker's eye. An idea popped into her head, making her stand suddenly.

"I'll be right back." She mumbled as she strode across the grass.

Several minutes later she made her way back to the table with a soft serve vanilla ice cream cone in one hand. As she approached Jarod and his family, Parker became acutely aware that all conversation had abruptly stopped.

"Am I interrupting?" Parker asked as her smile slipped away from her face.

Jarod looked up at Parker and smiled reassuringly. "No." He said. "My mother was just warning me about how dangerous the Parkers can be."

Flashing a quick glare at the older woman, Parker replied, "No one knows that better than you do, Jarod."

"That's what I said." Jarod said lightly. "There seems to be some concern that I may be seduced to the dark side."

Parker felt six pairs of eyes staring at her expectantly.

"I told them that no one has been doing any seducing." Jarod added with a smirk.

"The fact that we haven't had sex yet is nobody's damn business." Parker said sharply. She sat dejectedly on the bench, leaning her back against the tabletop. "Here." She groused, handing Jarod the cone.

Jarod smiled indulgently. He tilted his head at Parker, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes.

Parker turned and gazed at Jarod. The look on the pretender's face said volumes. He didn't give a flying fig what anyone else thought. He would never abandon Parker. She suddenly realized that whatever else happened, the connection between them would be an eternal force.

A soft smile curled Parker's lips as her heart found a security it had not known since her mother's death. Pointing at the ice cream Parker said tenderly, "That should bring you one step closer to heaven."

Jarod straddled the picnic table bench and hauled Parker closer, so that she was situated in the v between his legs. "I have a better idea." He purred.

Slurping the curlicue off the top of the frozen treat, Jarod immediately leaned over and kissed Parker deeply on the lips. It was the first kiss they had shared since they were children. Filled with promise, the kiss was gentle, yet insistent. Jarod's tongue, cold from the ice cream, flicked into Parker's mouth and she tasted vanilla.

Fully cognizant of their stunned audience, Jarod kissed Parker in such a way that only she was aware of the passion that simmered under his tightly controlled surface. When they slowly parted a moment later, a desire that no one else could see sparkled between them.

"Now that's heaven." Jarod murmured.

Smiling happily, Parker said slyly, "Baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet."
"Oh good grief," Jack groaned theatrically. "Get a room." The boy grinned as he grabbed another handful of chips.

Jarod's eyes glittered mischievously. "What an excellent idea!" he exclaimed jokingly.

Margaret and Charles exchanged a nervous look. "I don't have any say in this, do I?" Jarod's mother said.

Wrapping one arm around Parker's middle, Jarod took another bite from his ice cream cone. "No, Mother. You don't." He said simply. The pretender's deep brown eyes burned into Parker's gray one's as he studied her face tenderly. "You can not begin to understand the connection Parker and I share."

Parker leaned her head against Jarod's shoulder and sighed contentedly. "After all these years, I'm not sure I understand it myself." She said.

"I'm only trying to protect my son." Margaret explained.

Gazing seriously at the older woman, Parker said, "I'd throw myself under a train before I'd ever think of hurting him, Mrs. Caulfield."

Jarod smiled. "Well at least the two of you have one thing in common." He said. "Me!"

"Oh you are so full of yourself!" Parker groused. She shook her head ruefully and said to Ethan, "He's going to be ridiculously pleased with himself for at least a month."

"I don't know, Miss Parker." Ethan smiled. "I think if we gang up on him, we might be able to bring him back down to Earth."

"Don't bet on it, Bro." Jarod said as he crunched into his cone with a grin. "I've just had my every wish fulfilled. My feet may never touch the ground again."

Margaret laughed in soft resignation. "Joy is a powerful thing isn't it, Son?"

"Yes," Jarod laughed delightedly as he hugged Parker close. "I'm learning that it is."