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Author: Mme Fleiss
Rating: R, Adult situations, Language
Category: Drama, Angst (J/MP)
Timeline: Post-"Donaterase"
Spoilers: Up to "Donaterase"
Summary: Jarod finds out that there's more than one clone to be saved.
Disclaimer: The characters of this story belong to "The Pretender," a protected trademark of MTM Television and NBC. They have been used without permission for the purpose of fan fiction and not for any type of compensation. The events are my invention and any resemblance to real events is purely coincidental.
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It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Jarod watched helplessly as Ms. Parker intercepted the bullet meant for her father, white shirt turning crimson in a matter of seconds.
So much blood.I should have known that this would happen.
Mr. Parker began to panic as his daughter paled considerably, crying out "Angel" over and over again as if calling out to her would keep her alive.
Please, God, don't let her die.
Jarod walked up to Ms. Parker's prone form, hands shaking as he applied pressure to the wound.
Don't let her die. . .
*****
Jarod woke up with a start, heart beating wildly as he ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He was momentarily disoriented by his stark surroundings but quickly recognized his room of thirty-three years.
A part of him hoped he was still dreaming, having another nightmare that could be easily brushed aside in the morning light. Another part of him insisted it was all too real for it to be one.
Jarod could still feel a dull ache where Mr. Lyle had shoved the butt of his gun against his temple. His left arm felt raw where he landed on it after falling off the motorcycle, and his brain still felt fuzzy from the sedative and God knew what else that they put in him on their way to the Centre.
Despite all the physical evidence, Jarod clung tenaciously to the idea that this was all a horrible dream. He repeated to himself like a mantra the many documented cases he'd read of dreams somehow involving all five senses. There were still so many things that mankind didn't know about the human mind; wasn't it possible that this was an example of that?
Whatever illusions he had left shattered at the sound of Mr. Raines' voice, saying, "I see you've awakened."
Surely, not even his mind could be so cruel to include the old man in his dreams.
Jarod looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. It stared down at him unforgivingly, recording everything he did with its impassive eye. "What do you want with me?"
Raines sounded amused. "I think you know what we want."
"If you think I'm going to help you destroy more innocent lives. . ."
"Oh, but I think you will. You don't honestly think that we made just one clone, do you?"
Jarod felt his heart constrict at the revelation. More clones of him? "You bastard," he growled, throwing his pillow at the camera and hitting it with a satisfying thump. He began to throw whatever he could find in the room: the meal they had left him at the door, the Pez dispensers in his jacket pocket, the New York snow globe Ms. Parker had secretly given him when they were young.
He was out of breath by the time his display of anger came to an end. Broken glass, plastic, and ceramics littered the floor, but the camera kept on recording as impassively as ever.
"Are you quite done?" Mr. Raines asked, impatience creeping into his voice.
"No. Never."
"What if we're willing to make a deal? If you promise to work for us, we'll let the other clone go."
Jarod shook his head. "No deal. I know you well enough to know that you would never let a potential experiment go to waste; and even if I did think for a moment that you'd let the second one go, there's nothing that's stopping you from making another one."
"Then you leave us no choice but to use the second clone to find the first one."
Raines' words was accompanied with the sound of a door being opened down the hall. Jarod scrambled towards his door to catch a glimpse through the thin slit of glass above the knob, almost tripping on the clutter on the ground and seriously injuring himself.
He held his breath as he waited for his second doppelganger to appear in his line of sight. It came out all at once as he caught sight of the figure trudging down the hall, head bent as it headed towards one of the SIM labs.
Jarod must have made more noise than he thought because it raised its head to look straight at him-giving him his first clear view of the fourteen year old clone of Ms. Parker.
"What kind of sick joke is this?" Jarod demanded, his eyes never straying from the girl.
Raines, the bastard, sounded even more amused while he gloated, "It's no joke. Haven't you ever noticed that all the Pretenders show up in twos? It turns out that the only way to successfully clone a Pretender is to do it simultaneously with someone who has the blood anomaly but a dissimilar DNA structure." His voice carried a mocking tone as he added, "But you're the genius here. Shouldn't you know that?"
Jarod ignored the obvious bait and asked, "But why Miss Parker? She has never been tested to see if she'd make a decent Pretender."
The only answer he got was the sound of the camera's tape rewinding.
*****
Jarod watched Sydney enter the SIM lab from the corner of his eye'. Raines had known him too well and didn't sound the least bit surprised when he grudgingly agreed to help look for his clone in exchange of Ms. Parker's double.
He looked up and was shocked at the sight of his mentor; Sydney looked like he had aged ten years since Jarod had last seen him. Lines that weren't there before now seemed permanently creased into his face, and he walked with his shoulder's hunched over as if he carried the weight of the world on them. "What's wrong?"
"Ms. Parker . . . she . . . she died at the operating table."
Jarod felt the blood drain from his face. He could faintly hear Sydney still talking in the background, but all his attention was focused on that one word.
Dead. His mind conjured up his earlier dream and he found himself shaking his head no.
Ms. Parker couldn't be dead. He had prayed for her, hadn't he? And God was supposed to listen to his followers. God was supposed to reward those who did good.
Wasn't he?
He felt Sydney's hand land on his shoulder. "Jarod, it's okay. I know this is difficult, so if you want to postpone. . ."
Jarod shrugged off the weak attempt at comfort, pushing the older man halfway across the room. He ignored the shocked look on Sydney's face and stood up to pace around the oppressive, concrete room.
Okay? How could Sydney even think to say that?
This wasn't *fucking* okay. God was supposed to be on his *fucking* side and was supposed to *fucking* listen to his prayers.
The person he love wasn't supposed to die.
After a moment of silence that felt like it spanned an eternity, Sydney cleared his throat and continued to speak. "They're holding
a memorial service later this week. If you'd like, Broots could set up a camera so you could come watch. . ."
Jarod stopped pacing, his knuckles turning white as he tightly clenched his hands into fists. "No," he whispered, refusing to turn
around and meet Sydney's eye.
The older man continued as if his charge hadn't spoken. ". . . I'm sure Ms. Parker would have wanted it that way."
"No," Jarod repeated, this time louder, laced with anger. He glared at the wall in front of him and wished that Sydney would just get the hint and leave him alone.
The door on the other end of the room opened and the sound of somebody clearing their throat reverberated around the room. "Would you excuse us for a moment, Sydney?"
Jarod turned around, surprised to see Mr. Parker there. The old man rarely went down to the SIM labs, even seemed to avoid it in some occasions. Something must have seriously gone wrong for him to be there.
He watched his mentor walk out of the room, only to tense up as he turned around to look Mr. Parker in the eye. Instinct born from his three years on the run screamed at him that he was in danger as the older man reached inside his jacket, but he quickly shut it out.
Mr. Parker would never soil his hands with things like murder; not when there were hundreds of others willing to do it for him. Besides, why would he kill a Pretender he just spent millions trying to catch alive? It would be counterproductive.
His suspicions dwindled even further when the older man produced a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off his brow. "I wanted to thank you for trying to save my Angel, and for volunteering to find your clone."
"Volunteer isn't exactly a word I'd use."
"Nevertheless, you're saving Angel's . . . clone from running the SIMS. She doesn't deserve that kind of work."
"And I do? Why the sudden concern, anyway? For years you abandoned your own daughter, ignoring her efforts to please you and making her feel like she's not good enough. What happened? You noticed that this version could make you millions so you finally decided to give her the time of day?"
The fist hurled towards Jarod came so quickly, so unexpectedly, that he didn't even get a chance to react. One second he was screaming at the Centre's chairman, and the next he found himself sprawled on the ground, his right eye already beginning to swell from the left hook he'd received.
"You don't know anything," Mr. Parker growled, his face red from anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then why don't you enlighten me?"
Mr. Parker began to pace around the room, much in the same way that Jarod had a couple of minutes earlier. His angry expression softened as he stared at the concrete wall, the small smile on his face informing Jarod that the older man's mind was far away from the present. "I fell in love with her the moment I first saw her. She was so beautiful; she took my breath away."
"So then what happened? If you loved her so much, why did you let her live her whole life believing that she wasn't worthy of your love?" Jarod demanded, unwilling to forgive the man who'd made Ms. Parker's life hell.
"Because I love her. . . in a way that no man should ever love his daughter."
Jarod felt his throat go dry at Mr. Parker's admission. "What?"
Mr. Parker pointed at the DSA case on the table, making Jarod wonder why he didn't notice them there before. "Those will tell you everything you need to know." And then before he could ask any more questions, the older man was gone.
Jarod stared at the case for a couple of minutes before shakily inserting the first disk. He watched with rapt fascination as two
familiar looking children appear on the screen, their stances indicating that they were in the middle of a serious discussion.
*****
For Centre Use Only
"I don't understand," Jarod said, a confused frown on his face as he watched Ms. Parker fidget with the collar of her cream-colored turtleneck next to him. "How come you know more about the study on human sexuality that they're conducting?"
Ms. Parker stopped squirming and turned to look at him, an incredulous expression on her face. "You mean you don't know?"
He shook his head, his expression making it clear that he didn't like being kept in the dark. "Don't they think I'm smart enough?"
She laughed at his perplexity and shook her head with mirth. "That's not the reason why."
"Then why?" Jarod pressed, starting to sound annoyed. "Why did they think you can handle some of the information and I can't?"
"Girls mature faster than boys," Ms. Parker informed Jarod before leaning over and kissing him on the lips.
*****
Jarod watched the scene fade, his expression stunned. At first glance it appeared to be the time Ms. Parker gave him his first kiss.
But everything was all wrong.
There were little things that didn't coincide with the way he remembered them. Like her clothes. Why was Ms. Parker wearing a Centre issued outfit reminiscent of what he wore during his three decade long stay there?
And the way she laughed at him. It was filled with a confidence that he didn't remember her having when they were children. In fact, he could clearly remember feeling relieved at how nervous she, too, had sounded while they discussed the subject of human sexuality.
Jarod took out the disk to put it back in its case. His eyes widened as he caught the date stamped at its corner, bringing it closer to his face to make sure he read it right.
March 26, 1999.
*****
Jarod felt a chill run down his back as he stared at the date on the disk with disbelief.
The first logical conclusion he could come up with was that the children on the disk were his and Ms. Parker's clones. It certainly explained the inconsistencies between what he saw and what he remembered. It also gave a satisfactory answer for the recent date on the DSA.
But what were the chances of two conversations held twenty years apart being exactly the same word for word?
Not many. In fact, he calculated it to be exactly one in sixty-two billion.
Add in the fact that the second conversation was held by the clones of the previous two. . .
Jarod's brow creased as he inserted the next disk; he prayed that it would give him an answer.
*****
For Centre Use Only
"I don't understand," Jarod said, a confused frown on his face as he watched Ms. Parker wander around the SIM lamb, her cream-colored turtleneck sticking to her torso in wet patches while they waited for the air conditioner to get fixed. "How come you know more about the study on human sexuality that they're conducting?"
Ms. Parker stopped pacing and playfully wiped off the sweat beading on his brow. "You mean you don't know?"
He took a hold of her hand, pressing it against his cheek despite the oppressive heat. "Don't they think I'm smart enough?"
*****
Jarod paused the DSA, his frown deepening as he stared at the now static screen before him.
It was the same scene again.
There were enough differences from the last one for him to be sure that he didn't mistakenly reinsert the last disk, but the knowledge was cold comfort in light of what he'd just seen.
He knew that there was no reason for the clones to repeat the same dialogue. Either the Centre was messing with his head
or. . .
"There are others," Jarod murmured hoarsely, knowing in his gut that the latter was more likely to be true.
The heartless bastards had made more clones. There could be hundreds, perhaps even thousands of them out there.
Jarod angrily took out the DSA and put in the next one, his mouth set in a grim line as he prepared himself to watch yet another variation of the same scene.
*****
For Centre Use Only
Raines stood in front of three figures hidden in the shadows, his oxygen tank squeaking as he tried to sit down on a nearby plastic chair.
"The latest . . . project on human . . . sexuality . . . is so far a success," he wheezed. "The girl has consistently sought out . . . the
boy on her own accord . . . just like the last batch."
"Let's hope this one ends up better than last time," one of the shadowy figures murmured. "We cannot afford to have another one of our clones escape."
"I assure you . . . having both of them stay . . . at the same facility . . . will leave them no choice . . . but to fall in love with each other."
"I'm still not convinced that this plan of yours will work," another member of the Triumvirate said. "Wouldn't having two Pretenders working together make it easier for them to escape?"
"On the contrary," Raines answered. "If you'd look . . . at the DSAs that gave . . . me the idea to start this project . . . having the two Pretenders become emotionally . . . attached to each other . . . keeps them happy . . . and gives them less of an incentive . . . to leave the Centre."
*****
Jarod felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the room's temperature envelope him. He'd been happy at first to find out that
the disk didn't contain another conversation between his and Ms. Parker's clones. It raised his hopes that the amount the Centre
held might not be as much as he'd thought.
But the way Raines and the rest of the Centre planned on keeping those they did have made him sick to his stomach. To think that they would stoop so low, using the clones' emotion against them.
An unwelcomed thought suddenly popped into Jarod's head. He tried to pushed it aside, not liking its implication, but it
continued to run through his head unabated.
What if his feelings for Ms. Parker had been the result of the same project their clones were currently being used for?
Certainly, his love for her had kept him from escaping for many years. He'd foolishly clung to the hope that there could be happy ending between them if he just stuck around her long enough.
Even after he'd escaped, loving her was still one of his life's constants, as dependable as gravity making things go down and
the Earth revolving around the sun.
He relied on it; on his worst days, it was the one thing that got him out of bed and decide to keep on going.
But what if it were all based on a lie? Did that make his feelings for her less real?
The sound of hand tapping against one of the nearby grates brought Jarod out of his musings. He looked up to see Angelo peering down at him with sad, blue eyes. "Friend sad. Friend thinks daughter didn't really love friend."
Jarod let out a soft, mirthless laugh. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Daughter loved friend very much. Wanted friend to kiss daughter again."
Jarod looked up at him with surprise, not caring if the cameras could see the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Thank you, Angelo. I needed to hear that."
Jarod knew that time was running out. He could see by Mr. Lyle's stiff posture as he watched Sydney and him from the corner of the SIM lab that the Triumvirate was losing patience at his inability to track his father and his clone.
For the past couple of days, he'd been leading the Centre on a wild goose chase, and he knew it wouldn't take long before they realized that he'd been stalling to give his father and his clone more time to hide.
Jarod narrowed his eyes as he gave off another coordinate of a hideout he had faked just for this purpose. He saw a feral grin appear on Mr. Lyle's face before heading out the door, though he knew not on whether it was for the chance of finally catching the clone or for the punishment he would inflict on Jarod when the lead turned into another dead end.
Jarod looked over another corner of the room where Ms. Parker's clone sat for the better part of the day, unmoving. The only indication that she was alive at all was the occasional frown that marred her forehead as he listed off his clone's alleged location, no doubt having figured out his ruse from the very beginning.
He watched Sydney kneel next to her after the end of the SIM and ask a question he couldn't quite hear. She nodded, her turquoise eyes staring straight at him through it all, staring straight into his soul.
It unnerved Jarod how well she seemed to know him even though they've never spoken. He wondered if he had the same effect on people; if he always came off looking all-knowing and just a little bit arrogant.
It didn't take long before Sydney had to leave and check on his other projects, leaving the two Pretender's staring at each other in the drab, concrete room.
Jarod was so intent at not breaking eye contact that he didn't even notice that she'd moved near him until he felt her warm breath caress his cheeks.
"Why are you helping him escape?" she asked coldly, her tone reminding him so much of the original Ms. Parker that for a second he couldn't breathe. She gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes in response, making him wonder if she'd hurt him on purpose.
"Because nobody deserves this kind of life," he answered, equally soft so that the camera wouldn't pick up the sound. "Don't you ever dream of becoming a normal person? To be able to do what other kids do?"
"But doing SIMS are important. They help save lives."
It irritated him to no end that she still gave her loyalty to the Centre no matter what they did to her. He didn't want to alienate
her, however, and so kept his temper in check when he asked, "But what about your life? Don't you deserve some happiness, too?"
Jarod's words seemed to have struck a chord within her. Ms. Parker's clone looked down on the ground and nervously bit her lip before answering, "I just don't want Mr. Raines to be angry at me. When he gets angry he . . . he . . ."
Jarod placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I won't let him hurt you anymore, I promise.
We'll escape tonight."
He felt his heart constrict for the second time that day as the look she gave him in response was of sadness, as if she found it too hard to hope that someone would actually keep their promise.
*****
Jarod gave Angelo a grateful smile as the empath motioned that he had dropped the sleeping pill on the coffee of the sweeper monitoring the cameras as instructed. Jarod waited a couple of minutes for it to take effect before heading towards the metal grate in the corner of the room and unscrewing it with vigor.
There was a sound of footsteps near his room, and he froze, fearing that he'd been detected. He felt his heart stop as the sound got louder and even drew blood when he'd clutched the screwdriver Angelo had given him a little to hard.
He was oblivious to the pain. His whole being was concentrated on the footfalls as if sheer will would make whoever it was keep walking without a sideward glance.
He let out a relieved sigh as the person marched by his door without any hesitation, wiping off the beads of sweat on his forehead before continuing on with his plan for escape.
It didn't take long before he managed to crawl through the narrow corridors to the grate facing Ms. Parker's clone, making the young girl almost fall off her cot at the sound of him tapping his hand against the cast iron slats.
Recognizing him, she ran over to the corner of the room and opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, only to snap it close when he made a shushing motion and looked around him.
Ms. Parker's clone nodded to show that she understood what he wanted her to do and waited patiently until he was able to remove the grate. She then took one last look at the camera recording their illicit activities from the corner of the room and gave it an impudent wave before turning around and following Jarod down the dusty, narrow pathway to freedom.
*****
Jarod drove away from the Centre like a bat out of hell. His getaway car was Sydney's, but he doubted that the older man would mind. Much.
He turned his head for a quick glance at his passenger and found her sprawled across her seat, fast asleep. Their mad dash across the parking lot and their close call with the sweeper guarding the front gate had left them both exhausted.
Jarod rubbed his eyes in an effort to stave off sleep, blinking his eyes a couple of times when the yellow line in the middle of the road began to blur. He took one last deep breath of the salty, ocean air before barreling through the turnoff that would lead them far away from the Centre.
*****
Jarod woke up from a deep sleep by the sound of the clone crying softly in the next bed. His three years on the run had made him sensitive to the slightest noise, his senses alert even in slumber.
He opened his eyes, only to close it again when the thin slats of neon light coming from the motel's vacancy sign blinded him through the cheap window blinds.
Jarod took the time he needed for his eyes to get accustomed to the garish light to reorient himself to his location. He had a vague memory of driving west for a couple hundred miles. He also remembered passing by endless rows of cornfields, leading him to surmise that he was somewhere in the Midwest.
Good. They were far enough from the Centre to be safe.
For now.
He redirected his attention back to his companion and found her curled into a fetal position on the next bed. She was rocking back and forth, mumbling something too soft for him to hear.
Jarod got out of his bed and sat down on hers. He watched her sleeping form for a moment, struck by just how similar the clone was to the original. They both looked so angelic when they were asleep, it never ceased to surprise him how different they acted when awake.
He placed a hand on her cheek in an effort to comfort her. He was surprised when he encountered moisture there, realizing for the first time that she was crying.
"Why did you leave me?" she pleaded quietly to her dream companion. "You promised me that you wouldn't."
Jarod looked down at the young girl sadly, wondering again why she always had to be disappointed by those she loved. "Don't worry, Angel. You have me now; I will never hurt you."
He ran a hand through her silky, dark hair in another effort to comfort her but quickly became inert after hearing her next words.
"Jarod, why did you go without me?"
Jarod's breath came out in white puffs as he stood in the cold parking lot, unmoving. His half-clothed body had turned numb hoursbefore, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
God, he needed a drink. He hadn't understood till now what it was about that vice that Ms. Parker found so appealing. But then again, he'd never felt the need before to forget something so badly, either.
The clone's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Rationally, he knew that she was talking about his clone, but he couldn't ignore theparallels between their situations.
Was that how Ms. Parker thought of him? Just another person that abandoned her inside the cold, Centre walls, alone?
No wonder she'd been so angry at him after he escaped.
All this time, he'd been blaming her father for not being there for her--when he'd gone and done the exact same thing.
Jarod leaned his head back against the door, trying his best to ignore the heavy feeling in his heart.
God, he really needed that drink.
*****
Mr. Parker slowly opened the wrought iron gate and headed towards a hill at the far end of the graveyard, conspicuously passing by his wife's grave without even a backward glance and kneeling by two headstones with identical names.
He split up the dozen roses he carried in his left hand and placed half of it on the fresh mound. Its occupant was buried only two days ago, so the dirt above it was still a little loose and stood out in stark contrast to its surroundings.
Mr. Parker then made an infinitesimal turn towards the other graveand took a little longer in laying down the flowers, taking his time to trace the weather beaten inscription with an index finger as he stared at it longingly.
"I'm sorry I haven't visited in so long. It's hard to believe that you've been gone for thirty years. Angel was so much like you; it was like you never left. I was able to keep on pretending that nothing has changed.
"But I'm sick of pretending. I was good--too good at it--and where did it leave me? An old man standing alone on a graveyard, doomed to be forever haunted by the ghosts of his past." He paused for a moment as an old memory came to him, unbidden. "Do you remember when we were younger how much we wanted to change the world? We were going to rule the Centre together, remember? We were going to make a difference. Even after you died, I still believed that I could do it. I thought I
could fight it.
"But I wasn't strong enough. Not without you. You were always the strong one, you know. I looked up to you even when we were on opposite sides, because I knew that in the end that it would be you that'd have the guts to do what I couldn't."
Mr. Parker stood up, his eyes moist with tears that he refused to shed--his years at the Centre had trained him well in hiding his
emotions. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for not being strong enough; so sorry that I couldn't save you. But most of all I'm sorry for what I'm about to do."
*****
Jarod didn't know how long he stood there staring into space before the sound of the motel phone ringing inside his room broke through his daze.
He mechanically picked it up, his voice devoid of emotion as he said hello.
The sound that greeted him in response was a deafening silence. For a second he thought that it might be the wrong number, or perhaps a bad connection, but the sound of Mr. Parker saying his name quickly put an end to that theory.
"How did you find us?!" Jarod demanded, his grip around the receiver tightening with each word.
"Don't you know?" The older man asked, his voice weary as if his life had finally taken its toll on him.
It was so different from his usual strong persona that for the first time, if only for a couple of seconds, Jarod felt pity for the man. How lonely it must be to finally find himself alone. For years he had his daughter, loving him unfailingly despite every rotten thing that he did to her simply because he was her father. But she was dead now, along with everyone else who ever cared for him. Buried deep under the Centre's lies and deceit and leaving him very much alone.
"Why don't you enlighten me?" Jarod asked, his anger promptly returning at the reminder of the infinite distance that now stood
between him and Ms. Parker. All because she wanted to save the undeserving bastard on the other end of the line.
"I know where you are--because I'm you."
To Be Continued . . .
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