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Disclaimer: I don’t own the Pretender or other related characters.
Sweet Dreams
by Jamison
It was a complete accident that I had stumbled onto him. I had read about the murder of a Chinese college student in the local paper and could only assume Lyle had been the culprit. I decided to do a little investigating on my own, which led me to this town.
I was visiting the college under the guise of a potential student when I was told to meet with the assistant dean. Apparently the old assistant dean had just retired, and the replacement had only been on campus a few days.
I found his office easily enough, and you can imagine my shock when I found out his name: Jarod Green. The receptionist told me he had left earlier in a bit of a panic. I wondered if he knew I was there, but I calmed the thought by reminding myself that no one knew. I quickly changed my story and told the receptionist I was his sister and had dropped in for a surprise visit. Could I possibly get his home address?
She was more than willing to offer the location of his new apartment, and I quickly headed to the parking lot.
When I arrived at the surprisingly upscale apartment complex, I was surprised to see the door to Jarod’s apartment standing wide open. I approached it cautiously. I was unarmed. I figured a college wouldn’t look well at a gun-toting student, but I hadn’t really planned on running into Jarod.
I stepped in slowly, trying to ignore the passing thought that this was some kind of trap. My heart was racing. It had been a while since a face-to-face confrontation with Jarod, so I was a bit nervous. I knew better than to assume the meeting would end with taking him back to the Centre, but it would at least remind me that he wasn’t a ghost who called me in the middle of the night, but a real person.
I walked into the front room. It was empty. I walked down the hallway, but stopped short when I heard a sobbing sound. I headed towards the door the sound was coming from, but stepped on a piece of paper. I picked it up quickly and scanned the text. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, but Zoey’s cancer came back a few weeks ago. She didn’t want us to tell you, and we didn’t because we thought she would be okay. I’m so sorry, son, but she died yesterday. The Centre has been hot on our trail, so I can’t let you know where we are, but I promise the next time we meet, I’ll let you know where she is buried. J.J. and Em send their love. Please email us back and let us know you are okay.
I suddenly felt guilty for being here. Jarod was dealing with the death of the woman he loved. There was no way I could haul him back to the Centre in that condition. I am cruel, but I have a heart.
I crept up to the room looked in. A tall bottle of alcohol set half-empty in front of him. It scared me. Jarod wasn’t the type to drink, and that much to someone unaccustomed to it could be dangerous. He held his head in his hands and cried.
I flashed back to Tommy, dead, on the front porch of my house. A tear involuntarily fell from my eye, and I wondered why fate had dealt Jarod and I such a poor hand. It wasn’t fair that Zoey - Jarod’s only piece of happiness - was allowed to die. It was even worse that he wasn’t there for her. I knew the guilt. It was a pain I carried around with me everyday. Why hadn’t I woken up when Tommy got up from bed? How could I sleep through the shooting? I tried to hold back the tears.
I turned to leave, going against all the training I’d ever had at the Centre, when I remembered the dreams I had after Tommy died. I had been so drunk that I had seen Jarod. Looking back, I knew it wasn’t real, but I wondered if those hallucinations were what kept me alive. He had comforted me just like he had when my mother had died, and when I stopped seeing him, it made me sad.
Could I do the same thing to Jarod? Go and comfort him, and later he would believe it was a dream? He was so drunk he could never win if we fought, so I decided to take the chance. I knew it was crazy. Sure I wanted to help Jarod in his time of pain, but perhaps I was being a little selfish, too. I wished everyday that life could be like my childhood: my mother to care for me, and Jarod to be my friend.
I walked into the room and put my hands on his shoulders. He straightened up quickly and turned to look at me.
“What are you doing here? Please . . . I can’t go back there today. Tomorrow, maybe . . . but not today.”
I tried to smile my most trustworthy smile. “I’m not here to take you back. I heard . . . about Zoey, and I didn’t think you needed to be alone.”
He took another drink and laughed. “Well, I definitely know I’ve had a little too much to drink now.”
I took the bottle and poured it out the open window. “You don’t need to be drinking, Jarod. I know the pain . . . but alcohol isn’t the answer.”
He laughed. “You’re one to talk.” He started to cry again. “I just . . . miss her. So much. I should have been there when she died. Who knows? Maybe she would have lived if it hadn’t been for running from the Centre, which is, of course, all my fault.”
I wiped the tears from his face with my hands. “Jarod . . . you can’t feel guilty about not being there. That is in the past. And running from the Centre . . . that is the Centre’s fault, not yours. You have to hold on to the good times. That is all we’ve got.”
He tried valiantly not to cry again. “God . . . she was beautiful. Not like you, she wasn’t sophisticated. She didn’t have perfect makeup. She didn’t dress to kill, but she had this energy . . . this glow . . . she was amazing.”
“I never knew her Jarod, but I am sure if she was able to capture the heart of someone like you, she must have been wonderful.”
I know I need to be leaving soon. I told Sydney and Broots I had a dentist appointment, and they will worry if I’m not back soon. “I have to leave, but please don’t drink anymore. Would she want you to do that? Do something to make her proud, Jarod.”
He stood up quickly and hugged me. I was surprised by his kind gesture, but held him tightly anyway. I tried hard to etch the moment in my mind. The feel of his hands on my back . . . the smell of his shirt . . . his warm breath on my neck. Instantly, I realized that this is the moment I most need to forget if I ever plan on bringing him back to the Centre. I traced my finger along his shoulder blade, wondering if I’ll be able to remember its shape.
He called me today. It was just our typical banter, and I knew better than to think he would mention my visit. To him, it was just a dream. A sudden, horrifying thought crosses my mind: what if all those times I saw him weren’t just sweet dreams? What if they were real?
End. I might do a sequel if this generates enough response
by Jamison
It was a complete accident that I had stumbled onto him. I had read about the murder of a Chinese college student in the local paper and could only assume Lyle had been the culprit. I decided to do a little investigating on my own, which led me to this town.
I was visiting the college under the guise of a potential student when I was told to meet with the assistant dean. Apparently the old assistant dean had just retired, and the replacement had only been on campus a few days.
I found his office easily enough, and you can imagine my shock when I found out his name: Jarod Green. The receptionist told me he had left earlier in a bit of a panic. I wondered if he knew I was there, but I calmed the thought by reminding myself that no one knew. I quickly changed my story and told the receptionist I was his sister and had dropped in for a surprise visit. Could I possibly get his home address?
She was more than willing to offer the location of his new apartment, and I quickly headed to the parking lot.
When I arrived at the surprisingly upscale apartment complex, I was surprised to see the door to Jarod’s apartment standing wide open. I approached it cautiously. I was unarmed. I figured a college wouldn’t look well at a gun-toting student, but I hadn’t really planned on running into Jarod.
I stepped in slowly, trying to ignore the passing thought that this was some kind of trap. My heart was racing. It had been a while since a face-to-face confrontation with Jarod, so I was a bit nervous. I knew better than to assume the meeting would end with taking him back to the Centre, but it would at least remind me that he wasn’t a ghost who called me in the middle of the night, but a real person.
I walked into the front room. It was empty. I walked down the hallway, but stopped short when I heard a sobbing sound. I headed towards the door the sound was coming from, but stepped on a piece of paper. I picked it up quickly and scanned the text. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, but Zoey’s cancer came back a few weeks ago. She didn’t want us to tell you, and we didn’t because we thought she would be okay. I’m so sorry, son, but she died yesterday. The Centre has been hot on our trail, so I can’t let you know where we are, but I promise the next time we meet, I’ll let you know where she is buried. J.J. and Em send their love. Please email us back and let us know you are okay.
I suddenly felt guilty for being here. Jarod was dealing with the death of the woman he loved. There was no way I could haul him back to the Centre in that condition. I am cruel, but I have a heart.
I crept up to the room looked in. A tall bottle of alcohol set half-empty in front of him. It scared me. Jarod wasn’t the type to drink, and that much to someone unaccustomed to it could be dangerous. He held his head in his hands and cried.
I flashed back to Tommy, dead, on the front porch of my house. A tear involuntarily fell from my eye, and I wondered why fate had dealt Jarod and I such a poor hand. It wasn’t fair that Zoey - Jarod’s only piece of happiness - was allowed to die. It was even worse that he wasn’t there for her. I knew the guilt. It was a pain I carried around with me everyday. Why hadn’t I woken up when Tommy got up from bed? How could I sleep through the shooting? I tried to hold back the tears.
I turned to leave, going against all the training I’d ever had at the Centre, when I remembered the dreams I had after Tommy died. I had been so drunk that I had seen Jarod. Looking back, I knew it wasn’t real, but I wondered if those hallucinations were what kept me alive. He had comforted me just like he had when my mother had died, and when I stopped seeing him, it made me sad.
Could I do the same thing to Jarod? Go and comfort him, and later he would believe it was a dream? He was so drunk he could never win if we fought, so I decided to take the chance. I knew it was crazy. Sure I wanted to help Jarod in his time of pain, but perhaps I was being a little selfish, too. I wished everyday that life could be like my childhood: my mother to care for me, and Jarod to be my friend.
I walked into the room and put my hands on his shoulders. He straightened up quickly and turned to look at me.
“What are you doing here? Please . . . I can’t go back there today. Tomorrow, maybe . . . but not today.”
I tried to smile my most trustworthy smile. “I’m not here to take you back. I heard . . . about Zoey, and I didn’t think you needed to be alone.”
He took another drink and laughed. “Well, I definitely know I’ve had a little too much to drink now.”
I took the bottle and poured it out the open window. “You don’t need to be drinking, Jarod. I know the pain . . . but alcohol isn’t the answer.”
He laughed. “You’re one to talk.” He started to cry again. “I just . . . miss her. So much. I should have been there when she died. Who knows? Maybe she would have lived if it hadn’t been for running from the Centre, which is, of course, all my fault.”
I wiped the tears from his face with my hands. “Jarod . . . you can’t feel guilty about not being there. That is in the past. And running from the Centre . . . that is the Centre’s fault, not yours. You have to hold on to the good times. That is all we’ve got.”
He tried valiantly not to cry again. “God . . . she was beautiful. Not like you, she wasn’t sophisticated. She didn’t have perfect makeup. She didn’t dress to kill, but she had this energy . . . this glow . . . she was amazing.”
“I never knew her Jarod, but I am sure if she was able to capture the heart of someone like you, she must have been wonderful.”
I know I need to be leaving soon. I told Sydney and Broots I had a dentist appointment, and they will worry if I’m not back soon. “I have to leave, but please don’t drink anymore. Would she want you to do that? Do something to make her proud, Jarod.”
He stood up quickly and hugged me. I was surprised by his kind gesture, but held him tightly anyway. I tried hard to etch the moment in my mind. The feel of his hands on my back . . . the smell of his shirt . . . his warm breath on my neck. Instantly, I realized that this is the moment I most need to forget if I ever plan on bringing him back to the Centre. I traced my finger along his shoulder blade, wondering if I’ll be able to remember its shape.
He called me today. It was just our typical banter, and I knew better than to think he would mention my visit. To him, it was just a dream. A sudden, horrifying thought crosses my mind: what if all those times I saw him weren’t just sweet dreams? What if they were real?
End. I might do a sequel if this generates enough response
