Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
By Andrea
Disclaimer:: NBC owns the Pretender, I own the words
"What the hell do you want, Lyle?" Miss Parker questioned as her brother waltzed into her office uninvited.
"The Triumvirate isn't happy with your failure to catch Jarod."
That again? "What's new about that?" She asked, her words serious, tone joking.
"For four years, you have failed to catch Jarod," Lyle continued speaking in a flat monotone, "I have a little 'incentive' from the Triumvirate." With that, he pulled his gun from its shoulder holster, and clicked off the safety.
Parker, sensing something was up, moved out from behind her desk. "Lyle, don't you da-" She began, seeing his gun aimed at her. But her words came too late; Lyle's finger squeezed the trigger. "You goddamn bastard!" Parker screamed in pain. "If this is what you call incentive, then what is murder?"
"Call it what you will, I myself prefer 'persuasion.' Have fun, dear sister." He walked out of her office, humming happily. He'd finally gotten that bitch out of the way, and with the Triumvirate's go-ahead, too.
Parker, meanwhile, slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
-~-~-~-~-
MINUTES LATER
-~-~-~-~-
Broots, for once, was singing as he stepped into Miss Parker's office. He had finally pinpointed Jarod's location before the Pretender would be there.
His happy tune stopped abruptly as he took in the scene inside the office. Lotsa blood. Then he saw Miss Parker... "SYDNEY," The tech bellowed, "Come here! QUICKLY!"
Sydney, hearing Broots shout for perhaps the first time, rushed to his colleague's office, and stopped short. "Oh my god," he muttered, while reaching for the phone set on the desk.
-~-~-~-~-
ONE DAY LATER
-~-~-~-~-
For at least the third time in his life, poor Broots sat by Parker's bedside. He had lost count, during the four years spent working with the gorgeous brunette, that he had spent in a hospital, watching her fight again for life. "Please, Miss Parker, don't give up on me."
"Any change?" Sydney asked, coming into the hospital room.
"None. Oh, thanks," Broots said, taking the cup of coffee Sydney offered. "You know Syd, sometimes I wonder how she can survive through so much. The once a year visits to the hospital, usually in critical condition."
The psychiatrist nodded. "I know, Broots, it is amazing how Miss Parker can survive everything she's been through. But you have to remember that she's come through before, and will triumph again. And again, if necessary," Sydney said softly.
"I know...it's just..."
"It's just what, Broots?"
Sighing miserably, he said, "I don't really know. Did you talk to the doctor?" He asked, changing the subject effectively.
"Yes, I did. He said that there isn't much damage, it wasn't that bad of a wound. When they removed the bullet, they didn't find much torn tissue, etc. The only thing is, they don't know why she's in a coma." Sydney explained, a feeling of helplessness sweeping over him.
"Do they know what happened to her?" Broots persisted in his questions.
"At this point, they don't know too much. If you'll excuse me, Broots, I have a couple phone calls to make."
Broots looked up, surprised. "You're going to tell them?"
"I have too, you know that. They deserve to know."
Laughing bitterly, Broots replied, "Even if they don't care."
