Disclaimer: The Pretender and its characters, Miss Parker, Jarod, etc, belong to NBC. Any other character that isn't part of the show belongs to me (meaning I made them up).
Author's note: This story is a prequel to my
Shadows of the Past series. Be warned this story is quite dark (at least I tried to make it dark), and contains offensive language as well as gruesome violence. A quick thank you to Sarah for some much needed translating, Yip, Ambrosia, and Terri for putting my story on their page, and anyone else that helped me that I forgot to mention. Most of all I would like to thank Andrea Parker for playing Miss Parker so well and inspiring me to write.
They called it the Centre. Built in a cheery little town in Blue Cove, Delaware it was a place that inspired hope and ingenuity. But dark forces soon closed its choking grasp around it, poisoning and corrupting with its hideous touch. Not too long after Hitler's fall, the denizens of the Third Reich nested within the Centre, and their empire grew again. They continued their depraved experiments, destroying the humanity of those they captured. Of all the 'daemons' in the Centre one surpassed all the others. This one was filled with such cruelty, evil, and malice it seemed that eternity with Satan was much more preferable. As with the start of the Third Reich people disregarded the perilous danger. They still went about their pathetic, meager, little lives ignorant of the darkness about to descend upon them. Some things never change...
Midnight Sun:
A Prequel to Shadows of the Past
By Chris Fujioka
Part One: The Dark Rises
Berlin, East Germany. March 8th, 1958.
Tension was building in East Germany. Riots broke out in the most unexpected moments. People would club neighbors half to death just for a loaf of bread. In East Germany the populace was starving, desolate, and envious of their counterparts in West Germany.
Catherine Jameson Parker was beginning to consider that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come after all. Her husband would often say she was mule-headed when she had her mind set on something. Kind-hearted and passionate, Catherine Parker cherished life, especially the lives of the very young. So it came as no surprise when she decided to help a boy that would later cause her much grief.
She noticed the little boy when her sixth sense told her something was wrong. Indeed, something was very wrong.
"Are you alright? Do you need any help?" Catherine said in the most non-threatening tone she could.
"Mami," the boy cried, "Mami."
The boy wants his mother Catherine realized.
Trying to comfort the child she spoke in the best German she could. "Es ist alles in Ordnung, alles wird gut."
The boy looked at Catherine with empty eyes. "Mami," he repeated. The boy turned and Parker soon saw the blood. A lot of blood. It dripped down his left arm, reminding Catherine of the time she watched a cat drained of all its blood.
"Oh God, oh God," Catherine repeated over and over again. She ripped off part of her shirt and wrapped it around the wound on the boy's arm. Then she cradled the boy in her arms, careful not to make anything worse. As the boy was carried he screamed in pain, and tears finally came to his vacant eyes.
"Help, someone, please help," she shouted. Then considering the fact that no one might understand her she spoke in German. "Bitte, irgendjemand, helfmir!" She continued to shout, continued until she could shout no more.
People finally arrived, wondering what all the racket was about. But no one helped. Not a single soul cared if a little boy was dying. They had their own problems to worry about. And so they stood there, stood there and watched a boy die.
But Catherine cared. She would make them help her. As her temper and frustration began to rise she could hold back no longer. She cursed at them, called them cowards, weaklings, too concerned with their own hides, their own troubles.
Nothing in East Berlin goes unnoticed very long by the East German Secret Police or the Red Army. The gathered crowd scattered like leaves in the wind as they approached. Some were fortunate enough to escape. However, some were not. These unlucky souls were beaten, then forced to their knees. Catherine Parker didn't receive any better treatment. A soldier tore the child from her arms, and with the butt of his rifle, hit her in the stomach.
Why were they hurting her? Catherine wondered. She was only trying to help the boy. "Sie verstehen nicht, ich hab` versucht zu helfen," she told the soldiers.
"Do you think they care if you were only trying to help? You are such a naïve fool." An old hag of a woman appeared from behind the soldiers. Her voice was poison, her cold stare like hellfire, and she seemed to radiate pure evil and malice. She lifted one bony arm and shook her finger in Catherine's face. "You shouldn't be so far away from America, girl. Now you'll pay the price for your idiocy." The old crone issued one order to the soldiers. "Tötet sie, tötet sie ALLE."
Those that were on there knees were now dead, laying in their own blood. The echo of gunfire could still be heard. Admist all the chaos the little boy shivered. Merciless the old woman stepped in front of the boy, pulled out a Luger, and aimed it at his head.
"Mami," the young child whispered.
"NO!" Catherine screamed. She struggled against the soldiers, but she could do nothing. She watched, helpless, as the old hag pulled the trigger, ending the boy's life.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Catherine Parker. No one can hope to challenge the Centre. Be grateful I did not take your life as well." The threat in the old woman's voice was clear, and the next mistake Catherine made could be her very last. But there were worst things than death. And Catherine Parker would discover that all too soon.
The soldiers holding Catherine dropped her. Then they beat her bloody, hating her for her easygoing American lifestyle and what they perceived as Western Imperialism, hated her because of her beauty, and so they continued to mar her radiance, and then they left her, bruised and broken, surrounded by death. Catherine Parker welcomed the darkness that soon engulfed her.
Disclaimer: The Pretender and its characters, Miss Parker, Jarod, etc, belong to NBC. Any other character that isn't part of the show belongs to me (meaning I made them up).
"If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?" —William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
"And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." —Hebrew Bible. Exodus 21:23.
"No more tears now; I will think upon revenge." —Mary Stuart (1542–87), Queen of Scotland (Mary Queen of Scots) Midnight Sun:
A Prequel to Shadows of the Past
By Chris Fujioka
Part Two: Righteous Fire
"The night is cold, as cold as our hearts, isn’t It, little one? Feel their fear, child. It makes you powerful, doesn’t it? I know how you feel. I know because you are just like me. You are of my blood, my heart, my flesh, and my soul. We are both dark stars, inexhaustible and invincible. I see the look on your face child, and I know what you crave. Take this blade, child. Look at how it shines; look at the terror it inspires in them. Show them how powerful you are, child. Make them fear you as they have feared no other. Yes, yes, very good, very good. They are so weak, so pathetically weak. Look at them shiver as you approach. What’s wrong, child? Why do you hesitate? Look at the birds, the Ravens. They sense your power, what you are capable of. The Ravens sense that you are the hand of death." The night was cold indeed. Catherine Parker shivered as the icy wind bit into her bones. She watched ravens hop about, attracted to this field of death and blood. Catherine was amazed that she was still alive, but she was weak, very weak. She tried to raise her weary head as ravens feasted on the dead, gouging and tearing eyes out. The stench of death obscured her sense of smell. Her mouth had the taste of dry ash, and her throat was as scorched as desert sand.
The ravens cawed, satisfied with what they dined on. Several flopped to where Catherine lay. They picked at her, pulled her hair, and tore her skin.
"Go away," Catherine croaked. Tears of pain ran down her cheek, and her life ebbed away. She was cold, alone, and forlorn. Her will to live shattered when she watched the boy die.
She heard the voice of her husband in her mind. "Catherine, are you so weak that you would let yourself die? Get up, Catherine, GET UP!"
A searing, hot-white light blinded Catherine. God, my head throbs, Catherine thought.
"I said GET UP! Catherine, what the hell are you doing still sleeping? There is a board meeting at nine, an appointment with Dr. Yersinia at eleven, and don't forget the social dinner with your sister at five! I still can't stand that obnoxious woman!"
Groggily, Catherine woke up. She blinked a few times and realized that she had only been dreaming. It was just a terrible dream.
Fredrik Jonathan Parker looked down at his wife. Gradually, he became aware that she wasn’t listening to him. Insolent woman, he thought. How dare she ignore him? I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget.
Catherine cried out in pain as he struck her. He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her to her feet. He slapped her once, then twice across the face and dragged her out of the bed. He opened a drawer, reached in, and revealed a Colt .45. He pointed the gun at her and aimed. „I’ll kill you, do you here me? I will kill you!" He waved the gun at her chest and clenched the gun with unrestrained anger that matched the fury of the storm outside.
What did I do wrong now? Catherine wondered. Her head still throbbed, and she felt the ache of new pain. Fredrik has never hit me before, why does he now? Thousands of questions entered her mind, and her head hung in despair.
Fredrik Parker eyes flashed with dark intensity. The woman was ignoring him again! She still dared to defy him! I am the most powerful man in the Centre, and I will not take such impudence from anyone! Not anyone, especially from a woman, a woman who was supposed to be his wife. He could hold back no longer and a single shot rang out, as loud as thunder.
Catherine gasped in disbelief, surprised that her husband had actually shot her. She struggled to breathe and felt the warm wetness of blood drench her nightgown.
Fredrik dropped the gun and ran to Catherine’s side. He was shocked at what he had done and now felt ashamed. How could he have such hatred for the woman he loved? He held Catherine as he watched the life start to fade from her eyes.
As she lay dying, Catherine looked past her husband. What she saw surprised her more than her husband’s crime. A visage of a scarred, disfigured man appeared in the mirrors. His wrinkled skin and ghoulish eyes gave him the appearance of a reptile. A plastic tube led up to his nose, and he leaned on a stormy-gray oxygen tank. Lightning flashed and reflected off the mirror, turning the man’s skin a deathly pale white. He seemed like an evil ghost, ready to send Catherine to the afterlife. Catherine turned back to look at her husband’s tear streaked face. Life would go on for him, but for her, the end was near. The thunder growled, becoming louder and louder until it was the only sound she heard. She shook involuntarily, and with her last dying breath, she screamed.
„Catherine! Wake up! Catherine, Catherine! It’s only a dream!"
Catherine continued to scream, and she sobbed in the strong arms that held her.
„Shhh, everything is going to be alright. You’re fine now." A handsome man of twenty-seven years held Catherine. He had soft, blue eyes that had a mysterious twinkle in them, as if he knew some unknown secret of the universe. His face was finely chiseled, with the quality of an artist’s fine touch. His worried frown showed the concern he felt for the young woman.
Catherine looked at the loving, tender, and caring face of Stephan Arreis. She got up and hugged Stephan with fervor. „I love you, Stephan," Catherine said this with all her heart. A few tears still stained her checks, but Stephan quickly wiped them away. He kissed her passionately and smoothed Catherine’s silky hair. Basking in the warmth Stephan provided, she let her heart fill with his love, and soon her nightmares were forgotten.
Catherine awoke in the morning feeling energized and content. She went into the bathroom to freshen up. She looked at herself in the mirror, immobile and in deep thought. It was as if she was gazing at a photograph of the future, her own daughter or granddaughter flipping through the family albulm, and coming upon the image of Catherine Jameson Parker. Oh, how she longed to have a child, a child to love and to cherish.
It was in this very instant that Catherine saw how unpleasant and distorted her life had become. Perhaps, it was the thought of a daughter, a child that she might not ever bear, that made her consider her life. There was not a thing in her life that was considered normal. She belonged to the Centre body and soul. Even the small pleasure and contentment she felt with Stephan paled to the stranglehold the Centre had around her. Her marriage with her husband was falling apart, and all he seemed to care about was increasing his power and dominance within the Centre.
She splashed cold water on her face and dispelled such thoughts from her mind. It wasn’t good to have such thoughts. The Centre was her life, and maybe, just maybe, she could change the Centre for the better. Then, she could bring happiness and joy to the Centre. Nevertheless, she knew this was just a hope, a faint dream. She didn’t have times for dreams, and she had a very busy day ahead of her.
2.
„Strike now, child. Yield to your natural instincts. Snuff their insignificant lives out. They don’t deserve to live. You are better than they are. To them, you are a god. They worship you with reverence as you instill fear in their hearts. Take their lives, and you shall ascend to immortality."
„Where do you think you are going, child? Did I say you could leave? We haven’t even begun to show these insignificant creatures what true power is. Come back, child. I said come back! COME BACK! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, CHILD?! I’ll come for you! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I’LL COME FOR YOU!!!"
All was quiet in the streets of Berlin. The ruckus of the mobs had died out during the night, and for once, the city slept serenely. But soon, as midnight approached, the sleeping lion would roar. Snow fell, and the moon shone with an intense brightness, as if it were a midnight sun.
Two malevolent, watchful eyes oversaw the streets of Berlin. These watchful eyes penetrated through the souls of the human rats below. Compared to them, I am a god, the mind of the eyes thought. I stand high above them; none of them are worthy of my time. Only one is, and he shall soon be mine. Her gaze shifted to a mother and her child. She waited, like a vulture, for the right moment to strike.
The pair had no idea that they were being watched. The mother raced with the other rats as they searched, begged, or fought for food. She elbowed her way through the crowd. Her feet felt stuck in mud, her leg muscles sapped of energy. She passed by a group of metal scavengers twiddling with a bomb dud. They didn’t know what it was; they just knew it had metal. Their ignorance cost them their lives.
The earth rumbled, and an avalanche of brick, splintered wood, and shattered glass descended on those caught under it. The mother curled herself into a protective ball around the child, smashed one shoulder and knee against the wet brick. Her curled position at the base of a wall saved her life. A stray brick stuck her a blow against the temple, leaving a long, deep gash all the way from her scalp to the ridge of her brow.
Sirens went off, and the German Secret Police cleared the area. The mother struggled to get up, and the young boy tugged at her arm. She pulled herself up with great effort and walked away. The German soldiers, seeing her, ordered her to stop. When she did not comply, they shot her, and the little boy, terrified, ran.
The child ran as fast and as far as he could, but he was quickly exhausted. He deeply regretted leaving his mother, and he began to cry. „Mami," he repeated to himself. He kept repeating that word as if that word alone would resurrect her.
Catherine Parker came out in the cold morning, after resting from her previous day’s business. She walked on stiff legs between many children running after pigeons. Their faces were so innocent, cheeks as round as apples, their lips and hands sticky with sweets. Unconsciously, Catherine touched her belly with her fingertips. She wondered whether she would ever know what it felt like to have a child growing inside her.
A rubber ball painted blue and black bounced her way. She caught it while it was in the air and threw it back to the waiting girl who had missed the catch. The child caught the toss and laughed in delight. It was infectious, and Catherine laughed with her.
She left the children with their joy and as she passed through an alley she heard the sobbing of a young boy. Concerned, Catherine walked over to him and recoiled with shock. The boy was the child in her dreams! Suddenly nervous, she backed away from the child but had a change of heart. She wondered if she would be able to save the child in real life. I will save him, Catherine thought, suddenly very determined. She picked the child up in her arms and carried him away.
„And where are you taking that child, girl? You know I won’t let you have him." A gaunt, ancient crone walked arrogantly in front of Catherine, and she gasped in surprise. It was the old woman in her dreams! She would be the one who would kill the boy while the soldiers behind her would beat me to death, Catherine understood. Well, I won’t let her kill him this time.
„You can’t have him," Catherine stated boldly. „He isn’t yours, and I won’t give him to you. You can try your worst, but you will not succeed." With one arm, she grabbed the old woman and after running back a distance, Catherine shoved her towards the soldiers. The soldiers, distracted, helped the woman back to her feet as Catherine ran into an alley with the child.
„After her, you fools! I want her and the boy back alive, so I can personally tear their hearts from them. With single command from the feeble-seeming woman, they spread out in search of the runaway pair.
Catherine ran through the alleys and streets of Berlin, thankful that she was well fit. She had gained good distance on the soldiers, but they were soon close behind her. She turned down an alley, but it happened to be a dead end. The soldiers came nearer and nearer. She backed up against the wall and saw the soldiers approach the alleyway. A door to the building to Catherine’s left opened, and rough hands pulled her in so suddenly that she nearly dropped the child.
She was guided down a dark basement and led into a secret passageway. She was safe from the soldiers, but even though her life was saved, she didn’t know if she could trust her rescuer. „Who are you? What do you want from me and why did you rescue me?" Catherine wanted answers though she was in no position to demand them.
The stranger chuckled and showed his face for the first time. He was a plain-looking man, around thirty, with dark brown hair. His grin had a calming effect on Catherine, and she began to feel safer. „My name is Ben, Ben Miller. Please forgive the way I took you, but there didn’t seem to be much time." Ben turned around to look at the boy’s wound and treated them carefully.
Several weeks passed, and Catherine and Ben soon became good friends. They cared for the little boy as if he were their own child, and the two began to take the place of his real parents. His mother was now just a faint memory and his given name had been forgotten. He was very quick to learn English, and the boy was proved himself to be very bright. He seemed too bright for a child of his age. This made Catherine wonder if he were a Pretender, one of the Centre's trained geniuses. Catherine loved the child with all her heart, but she wanted a child of her own so she could experience the life growing inside of her. And on January 4, 1959, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Catherine Parker’s wildest dreams had come true.
Please read the sequel:
Shadows of the Past