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She stood there against the wall, her eyes closed, the darkness of the alley concealing the movement of her right hand, which alternately clutched the butt of her gun as if holding on for dear life, and then loosing that grip, allowing it to nearly drop to the ground.
Then she heard them. They walked toward the car parked in the last stall of the lot, and from her vantage point, she knew that she could do it. She could lift the gun, take aim, and destroy them both, and everyone would call it justice.
Everyone except him.
He would tell her to let it go, to go on with her life. To remember how much she'd had, not to trap her in the past, but to allow her to see how much she could have in the future. But how was she supposed to face the future when they had stolen away the only one she wanted?
She raised the gun.
They were laughing about something. That sound made her stomach turn over, made her resolve stronger. She took aim and locked on her first target.
"Not like this."
She heard the voice and knew instantly who it was, but she refused to look at him. How the hell had he known where she was or what she was planning?
"Stay away, Jarod." She spoke the words low, certain he had heard her, as she kept her eyes on her prey. One of them was already in the car, and she was going to lose her chance if she didn't act quickly.
"This isn't what he would want."
"Shut up!" She tightened her hold on the gun. 'Pull the trigger,' she told herself. 'Just pull the damn trigger and it'll all be over.'
But she didn't pull it. She stood there, gun aimed, and watched them laugh and climb into the car and drive away. She stood in that same position as Jarod walked around in front of her, taking the gun from her hands, forcing her arms down to her side. She moved backward, and she felt the strength of the wall behind her. Somehow it felt insignificant in the presence of the man who stood in front of her.
"How did you know?"
"Sydney told me what you'd found. I figured out the rest on my own."
She closed her eyes and nodded. Twelve hours. It had only been twelve hours ago that Broots had found the files -- the memos that had passed from Brigitte to Lyle as they had plotted Thomas' death. She had read them, each and every incriminating piece of paper, and then she had stood up, letting them fall to the floor as she walked out of her office and out of the Centre. She had heard Sydney calling after her, but she had been unwilling or unable to stop, she wasn't sure which.
Somehow, she had found them, had followed them here. There had been no doubt in Parker's mind that she was capable of killing them, of gunning them down in cold blood the way that they had gunned down Thomas.
Jarod leaned closer to her, his hand taking hers in a gentle hold.
"They'll pay, Parker. I'll find a way to make them pay. But not like this. Not in a way that'll give the Centre what they've always wanted."
She kept her eyes closed but she could feel tears slipping out of them.
"What is that?"
"Your soul, Parker. And no matter what happens, that is the one thing I will never let them have."
His free hand rose to her face and gently wiped away the tears that were falling there, and then he pulled her into his arms, surprised at how easily she let him do it. He held her there for a moment, willing his strength into her body so that she could survive this latest betrayal, then she pushed back from him.
Their eyes locked and for a long time, they just looked at each other, into each other. Then finally, she spoke.
"I really did love him."
And Jarod smiled, again reaching for her hand.
"I know you did. So did he, Parker. So did he."
He turned then and left. Her knew her well enough to know she needed time alone now. But he left with hope -- because he knew now that she was on her way. The Centre had lost it's hold on her loyalty once and for all, and that meant it was just a matter of time before she, too, would be free.
