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Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: I don't own any of The Pretender characters. They belong to NBC, Fox Studios and Pretender Productions. No infringement intended.
This is my first ever tP fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it!
Till We Meet Again
When Sorry Isn't Enough
Langer M. Fritz
I-90
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
He looked at the time on his wristwatch and smirked. Another five minutes to go and her Centre-issued Lincoln Towncar would sputter to a gradual halt right about there, on the other side of the busy interstate highway. He couldn't wait to see the expression on her face as he waved a last goodbye before heading in the opposite direction. His smile broadened as he thought about the ingenuity of his latest prank on Miss Parker. It's all so simple ... child's play in fact. Just a tinker under the hood with a timer to cut off the car's engine ... making that all important phone call to get her started on the chase when she, Sydney and Broots were at his last hideout ...
Jarod smiled again, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably against his black Ford Explorer. The look on her face would be priceless. Beats the roach motel and strip search anytime. Well, maybe not the strip search. The Pretender smirked again as he waited expectantly.
The minutes went by. He stared down the road, but still no sign of the towncar. Jarod frowned a little and proceeded to try her cell phone. No answer. He climbed into the Explorer and started the engine. Maybe her car stalled further up the road. With her driving like a bat out of hell, that wasn't such an impossibility. Nevertheless, his frowned deepened. He should have anticipated the distance and timing better. "Jarod, you're slipping," he chided himself.
The Explorer merged into traffic. About ten miles down the road, traffic began to slow considerably. A cursory glance over the concrete road divider and Jarod could see that traffic was backed up for miles from that direction too.
Then he noticed the billowing smoke and flashing red lights in the distance. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
As his car approached the site of the flashing red lights on the other side of the highway, Jarod pulled to the road shoulder and got out. He couldn't see much, what with traffic from both directions, and a few emergency service vehicles obscuring his view.
And then he saw Sydney. His mentor was seated at the back of an emergency service vehicle and had his hand pressed to his forehead.
Jarod began to dash across the highway, ignoring the blaring of horns and shouts from irate drivers. He leapt over the concrete divider and sprinted toward where Sydney was.
"Sydney," Jarod called out as he approached. The older man looked up on hearing his name.
"Jarod," he said weakly.
"Sydney, are you all right?" Jarod asked anxiously, looking Sydney up and down.
"I'm fine," Sydney said, trying to stem the bleeding from the cut on his forehead. "Just a cut."
"What happened?" Jarod asked, turning his head to assess the situation.
That was when he noticed Broots. The man was hovering on the edge of the accident scene, looking on apprehensively at a group of EMTs and police personnel surrounding the wreck of a car.
His chest tightened as he glanced back at Sydney. The older man did not have to say a word. He already knew what had happened.
Jarod began running toward the car wreck.
When he brushed past an ashen-faced and surprised Broots, the techie could only manage, "J-J-Jarod ... Miss Parker ..."
He couldn't see anything. There were too many of them crowding around the car. And then suddenly, an outstretched arm impeded his movement.
"Sir, you have to stand back," the policeman ordered.
Jarod looked at the man dazedly. He had to get to her, and he said the first thing that came to mind, "I'm a medical doctor, I can help."
The policeman stared at Jarod for a moment and then slowly lowered his arm. "Go ahead, doc. They'll need any help you can give them."
As Jarod approached, his heart sank. The front left side of the Lincoln Towncar was crushed like an accordion. It had obviously struck the concrete road divider with some force before spinning to a stop by the innermost lane.
And then he saw her.
========================================================================
"There was a loud pop and then the car just spun out of control," the witness was recounting to the police officer by the side of the road. "I'm lucky to be alive, I tell you."
"Missed sideswiping my car by this much," he exaggerated, showing an inch of space between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know how the hell she did it, but I think she saved quite a few lives today by doing just enough to steer clear of everyone else."
========================================================================
He didn't know how they were going to pry her out of that mangled mess. All he knew was he had never felt so helpless in all his life, standing there watching them. He needed to help, wanted to help so badly.
He caught glimpses of her as they moved around.
There was so much blood. Too much blood.
She was unconscious and they had placed a brace around her neck to prevent possible spinal injuries.
He was about to move closer when there was a tap on his shoulder.
It was Sydney.
"Jarod, you have to go now."
Jarod shook his head vigorously, "No, I need to help her."
"Listen to me, Jarod," Sydney said, putting his free hand on Jarod's shoulder. "You have to go now, Jarod. A sweeper team should be here soon. Parker called them before we left your place."
"No, Sydney. I'm not leaving. It's my fault, it's all my fault."
"What do you mean?"
Jarod bowed his head and whispered, "I caused the accident, Syd. I'm the reason she's there now."
His voice choking, Jarod tried to hold back his tears.
"I don't understand, Jarod. How can you be the cause ..."
"Syd, Syd!" Broots interrupted, running up to the two men. "I see Sam and the others!"
Broots turned to point to the snake of vehicles on the road. There, in the distance was the Centre-issued car caught in the jam.
"You've got to go now," Sydney pleaded with Jarod again. "We'll take care of Miss Parker."
Jarod glanced at his mentor and then turned to the wreck of the car again.
"No Syd, " Jarod said again. "I don't care if they catch me. Not now."
"I care, Jarod. We all do," he paused, and nodded toward the wreckage.
"If you really want to help her, go now before it's too late," Sydney reasoned.
Jarod snapped his head in the direction of Sydney. He was about to argue when he realized the truth of Sydney's words. He could never truly help her if he was locked up in the Centre.
He turned his attention toward the wreckage again, and took a few steps closer.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
And then he was gone.
========================================================================
One Year Later
Somewhere in New Jersey
"It's your fault! It's always your fault! Everything's always your fault!" she berated him, her anger and pain echoing over and over again.
"Parker, please. Please let me explain," he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't mean it. Please let me explain."
"No. No more. You're a murderer, Jarod. You kill everyone you touch. First my mother, then Kyle and now, ME!" she shouted at him.
"NOOOOO...." Jarod screamed, sitting upright in his bed, perspiration soaking the sheets.
He combed his fingers through his hair, and untangled himself from the sheets, standing up.
He sighed heavily, heading into the bathroom of the sparsely furnished motel room. He turned on the light and paused in front of the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was gaunt and pale, and it didn't help that he hadn't shaved in weeks. He sighed again, lowering his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Parker."
This is my first ever tP fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it!
When Sorry Isn't Enough
Langer M. Fritz
I-90
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
He looked at the time on his wristwatch and smirked. Another five minutes to go and her Centre-issued Lincoln Towncar would sputter to a gradual halt right about there, on the other side of the busy interstate highway. He couldn't wait to see the expression on her face as he waved a last goodbye before heading in the opposite direction. His smile broadened as he thought about the ingenuity of his latest prank on Miss Parker. It's all so simple ... child's play in fact. Just a tinker under the hood with a timer to cut off the car's engine ... making that all important phone call to get her started on the chase when she, Sydney and Broots were at his last hideout ...
Jarod smiled again, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably against his black Ford Explorer. The look on her face would be priceless. Beats the roach motel and strip search anytime. Well, maybe not the strip search. The Pretender smirked again as he waited expectantly.
The minutes went by. He stared down the road, but still no sign of the towncar. Jarod frowned a little and proceeded to try her cell phone. No answer. He climbed into the Explorer and started the engine. Maybe her car stalled further up the road. With her driving like a bat out of hell, that wasn't such an impossibility. Nevertheless, his frowned deepened. He should have anticipated the distance and timing better. "Jarod, you're slipping," he chided himself.
The Explorer merged into traffic. About ten miles down the road, traffic began to slow considerably. A cursory glance over the concrete road divider and Jarod could see that traffic was backed up for miles from that direction too.
Then he noticed the billowing smoke and flashing red lights in the distance. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
As his car approached the site of the flashing red lights on the other side of the highway, Jarod pulled to the road shoulder and got out. He couldn't see much, what with traffic from both directions, and a few emergency service vehicles obscuring his view.
And then he saw Sydney. His mentor was seated at the back of an emergency service vehicle and had his hand pressed to his forehead.
Jarod began to dash across the highway, ignoring the blaring of horns and shouts from irate drivers. He leapt over the concrete divider and sprinted toward where Sydney was.
"Sydney," Jarod called out as he approached. The older man looked up on hearing his name.
"Jarod," he said weakly.
"Sydney, are you all right?" Jarod asked anxiously, looking Sydney up and down.
"I'm fine," Sydney said, trying to stem the bleeding from the cut on his forehead. "Just a cut."
"What happened?" Jarod asked, turning his head to assess the situation.
That was when he noticed Broots. The man was hovering on the edge of the accident scene, looking on apprehensively at a group of EMTs and police personnel surrounding the wreck of a car.
His chest tightened as he glanced back at Sydney. The older man did not have to say a word. He already knew what had happened.
Jarod began running toward the car wreck.
When he brushed past an ashen-faced and surprised Broots, the techie could only manage, "J-J-Jarod ... Miss Parker ..."
He couldn't see anything. There were too many of them crowding around the car. And then suddenly, an outstretched arm impeded his movement.
"Sir, you have to stand back," the policeman ordered.
Jarod looked at the man dazedly. He had to get to her, and he said the first thing that came to mind, "I'm a medical doctor, I can help."
The policeman stared at Jarod for a moment and then slowly lowered his arm. "Go ahead, doc. They'll need any help you can give them."
As Jarod approached, his heart sank. The front left side of the Lincoln Towncar was crushed like an accordion. It had obviously struck the concrete road divider with some force before spinning to a stop by the innermost lane.
And then he saw her.
========================================================================
"There was a loud pop and then the car just spun out of control," the witness was recounting to the police officer by the side of the road. "I'm lucky to be alive, I tell you."
"Missed sideswiping my car by this much," he exaggerated, showing an inch of space between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't know how the hell she did it, but I think she saved quite a few lives today by doing just enough to steer clear of everyone else."
========================================================================
He didn't know how they were going to pry her out of that mangled mess. All he knew was he had never felt so helpless in all his life, standing there watching them. He needed to help, wanted to help so badly.
He caught glimpses of her as they moved around.
There was so much blood. Too much blood.
She was unconscious and they had placed a brace around her neck to prevent possible spinal injuries.
He was about to move closer when there was a tap on his shoulder.
It was Sydney.
"Jarod, you have to go now."
Jarod shook his head vigorously, "No, I need to help her."
"Listen to me, Jarod," Sydney said, putting his free hand on Jarod's shoulder. "You have to go now, Jarod. A sweeper team should be here soon. Parker called them before we left your place."
"No, Sydney. I'm not leaving. It's my fault, it's all my fault."
"What do you mean?"
Jarod bowed his head and whispered, "I caused the accident, Syd. I'm the reason she's there now."
His voice choking, Jarod tried to hold back his tears.
"I don't understand, Jarod. How can you be the cause ..."
"Syd, Syd!" Broots interrupted, running up to the two men. "I see Sam and the others!"
Broots turned to point to the snake of vehicles on the road. There, in the distance was the Centre-issued car caught in the jam.
"You've got to go now," Sydney pleaded with Jarod again. "We'll take care of Miss Parker."
Jarod glanced at his mentor and then turned to the wreck of the car again.
"No Syd, " Jarod said again. "I don't care if they catch me. Not now."
"I care, Jarod. We all do," he paused, and nodded toward the wreckage.
"If you really want to help her, go now before it's too late," Sydney reasoned.
Jarod snapped his head in the direction of Sydney. He was about to argue when he realized the truth of Sydney's words. He could never truly help her if he was locked up in the Centre.
He turned his attention toward the wreckage again, and took a few steps closer.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered.
And then he was gone.
========================================================================
One Year Later
Somewhere in New Jersey
"It's your fault! It's always your fault! Everything's always your fault!" she berated him, her anger and pain echoing over and over again.
"Parker, please. Please let me explain," he pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't mean it. Please let me explain."
"No. No more. You're a murderer, Jarod. You kill everyone you touch. First my mother, then Kyle and now, ME!" she shouted at him.
"NOOOOO...." Jarod screamed, sitting upright in his bed, perspiration soaking the sheets.
He combed his fingers through his hair, and untangled himself from the sheets, standing up.
He sighed heavily, heading into the bathroom of the sparsely furnished motel room. He turned on the light and paused in front of the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was gaunt and pale, and it didn't help that he hadn't shaved in weeks. He sighed again, lowering his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Parker."
