Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer is in part one .
Fraying Fabric
3/?
by Shannon
( who has since starting this turned 14)
She sat down at the small table where she could see the entire room, especially the person that lay sleeping on the bed. Sipping a cup of herbal tea, she savored the solitude. At the Centre, she had not been allowed such luxuries like peace and quiet. Funny how her current situation had come upon her. Jarod would never let her forget it, but first of all she had to accept it. That was the hard part--accepting the truth something that never came easy for her. Tightening her fingers around the cup, she drained it and continued to watch him sleep. A restless sleep, each move causing his body to protest its every movement. Earlier in the week, he had told her that they had unfinished business. She continued to put off the inevitable, yet she knew that sooner or later she would have to deal with whatever discovery he had made.
"Parker, how long?" his voice was low and gravelly, as if something had permanently constricted his throat.
"Almost a week," she replied, softly.
"Won't they worry about you?" he began to find the strength in his voice returning.
"No, I took care of it," she placed the tea cup on the table, looking straight at him.
"Are you ready to talk, yet? Or do you want to continue to pretend that what I uncovered isn't true?" he said, sharply.
"What are you talking about Jarod?" she said, as she approached the bed, and took a seat on the opposite side of him.
"The end, Parker. The end," he stated, solemnly as he looked her in the
eyes.
"Of what?"
"The Centre, the chase. . . ."
"Could you be a little more specific?"
"I'm talking about the total erosion of the fabric which holds the Centre together."
"That being?"
"You and me, Parker. It's always been about you and me. Nothing more, nothing less. From the very beginning they threw us together, then watched us grow close, only to rip us apart, then throw us together. . . .time and time again. It's been about us, so ask yourself, why?"
"Okay, genius. . . .Why?"
"We are the Centre, Parker. The rest is window dressing. It's us-they can not function without us, Parker."
"I can understand them wanting you, but me. . . ."
"Parker, they achieved the ultimate goal from their latest project, one your father sanctioned. A combination of both of us. The baby."
"No, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that." her eyes wide with not only horror but with shock.
"Wake up, Parker! He sanctioned it. . . .he talked the triumverate into it. . . .all for what . . . .another pretender. One that he could hand over," he struggled to sit up, his hand reaching out to touch her. Pulling back, she rose from the bed, making her way to the foot of it, still processing the information that he's just given her," It's the truth. I've never lied to you and I'm not about to start now."
"No, no, no," she replied as she turned and left the room, making her way down the hallway to the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, she turned the lock and sat herself down on the countertop, thinking. She heard him walk down the hall with delibrate slowness. His briused ribs making it rather difficult, yet she forgot about that when she heard him take hold of the doorknob. It turned slowly.
"Don't even think it wonder-boy?" she shouted.
"Come on Parker. Out," he said softly," Turning a blind eye to the truth isn't going to make this go away, Parker. Now open the door."
"No!"
"I'm sorry, truly I am, but . . ."
"He wouldn't do that, he couldn't!"
"Parker, think about who we are talking about. He never even asked you if it was a boy or girl. Why? Because he knew. That envelope that you saw, marked 'Medical records for baby Parker', his agitation when you questioned him? The fact that he gave you the wrong key. . . .shows that he knew that envelope was in that strong box and if you had opened it at the Centre, it wouldn't have been there when you went back to see him. Admit it, Parker. He didn't need the money, he needed the envelope. If it helps to talk about things, I'm listening."
"That's a new one coming from Mr. Hang-up, himself. I'll leave the couch sessions for Sydney."
"Well, the way I see it, Sydney isn't here at the moment, and I am."
She hopped off of the countertop and with an angry flick of her fingers, she reached for the lock on the door, tugging it quickly. She emerged from the bathroom, approached him menacingly, her blue eyes boring into his.
"Want me to re-break those ribs of yours?" she asked, in a low growl.
He opened then closed his mouth, shaking his head in the negative, then shrugged his shoulders, groaning softly.
"Oh, no you don't, Jarod?" You have something else you want to tell me, so why don't you spell it?"
Jarod looked almost miffed.
"Would you listen with an open mind, no more running and locking oneself in the bathroom?" he grimanced, sightly and placed a hand across his chest holding onto his ribcage.
"Do I have a choice? she bit back, eyeing him crictically, realizing suddenly that the trek down the hall bothered him more than he let on.
"You always have a choice, Parker. It's what you do with it once its presented to you," he whispered as he leaned against the wall, his breathing ragged.
"What the hell did you do, Jarod?" she reached out and touch his side, and he pulled back but not before wincing in pain.
"It's nothing," he stated, heading down the hallway toward the bedroom, "I'll be fine, I just need to retape them. No need to concern yourself."
"You arrogant son-of-a-bitch," her blue eyes level with his dark brown ones," I risked everything to get you the hell out, turning my back on my family and you tell me not to concern myself."
"Some family, Parker. A master manipulator and a serial killer," he spat back, then stopped talking when she looked away from him. He suddenly realized something about the both of them, they were like twins born to separate families, both wary, even of their own reflections.
Thanks to Niceole and Trish for suggestions. . . . if there are any errors they are mine and mine alone. . . . .hopefully to be continued.. . . .feedback is welcome. . .
SHANNON
feedback sent to Giglbarbe@aol.com
3/?
by Shannon
( who has since starting this turned 14)
She sat down at the small table where she could see the entire room, especially the person that lay sleeping on the bed. Sipping a cup of herbal tea, she savored the solitude. At the Centre, she had not been allowed such luxuries like peace and quiet. Funny how her current situation had come upon her. Jarod would never let her forget it, but first of all she had to accept it. That was the hard part--accepting the truth something that never came easy for her. Tightening her fingers around the cup, she drained it and continued to watch him sleep. A restless sleep, each move causing his body to protest its every movement. Earlier in the week, he had told her that they had unfinished business. She continued to put off the inevitable, yet she knew that sooner or later she would have to deal with whatever discovery he had made.
"Parker, how long?" his voice was low and gravelly, as if something had permanently constricted his throat.
"Almost a week," she replied, softly.
"Won't they worry about you?" he began to find the strength in his voice returning.
"No, I took care of it," she placed the tea cup on the table, looking straight at him.
"Are you ready to talk, yet? Or do you want to continue to pretend that what I uncovered isn't true?" he said, sharply.
"What are you talking about Jarod?" she said, as she approached the bed, and took a seat on the opposite side of him.
"The end, Parker. The end," he stated, solemnly as he looked her in the
eyes.
"Of what?"
"The Centre, the chase. . . ."
"Could you be a little more specific?"
"I'm talking about the total erosion of the fabric which holds the Centre together."
"That being?"
"You and me, Parker. It's always been about you and me. Nothing more, nothing less. From the very beginning they threw us together, then watched us grow close, only to rip us apart, then throw us together. . . .time and time again. It's been about us, so ask yourself, why?"
"Okay, genius. . . .Why?"
"We are the Centre, Parker. The rest is window dressing. It's us-they can not function without us, Parker."
"I can understand them wanting you, but me. . . ."
"Parker, they achieved the ultimate goal from their latest project, one your father sanctioned. A combination of both of us. The baby."
"No, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that." her eyes wide with not only horror but with shock.
"Wake up, Parker! He sanctioned it. . . .he talked the triumverate into it. . . .all for what . . . .another pretender. One that he could hand over," he struggled to sit up, his hand reaching out to touch her. Pulling back, she rose from the bed, making her way to the foot of it, still processing the information that he's just given her," It's the truth. I've never lied to you and I'm not about to start now."
"No, no, no," she replied as she turned and left the room, making her way down the hallway to the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, she turned the lock and sat herself down on the countertop, thinking. She heard him walk down the hall with delibrate slowness. His briused ribs making it rather difficult, yet she forgot about that when she heard him take hold of the doorknob. It turned slowly.
"Don't even think it wonder-boy?" she shouted.
"Come on Parker. Out," he said softly," Turning a blind eye to the truth isn't going to make this go away, Parker. Now open the door."
"No!"
"I'm sorry, truly I am, but . . ."
"He wouldn't do that, he couldn't!"
"Parker, think about who we are talking about. He never even asked you if it was a boy or girl. Why? Because he knew. That envelope that you saw, marked 'Medical records for baby Parker', his agitation when you questioned him? The fact that he gave you the wrong key. . . .shows that he knew that envelope was in that strong box and if you had opened it at the Centre, it wouldn't have been there when you went back to see him. Admit it, Parker. He didn't need the money, he needed the envelope. If it helps to talk about things, I'm listening."
"That's a new one coming from Mr. Hang-up, himself. I'll leave the couch sessions for Sydney."
"Well, the way I see it, Sydney isn't here at the moment, and I am."
She hopped off of the countertop and with an angry flick of her fingers, she reached for the lock on the door, tugging it quickly. She emerged from the bathroom, approached him menacingly, her blue eyes boring into his.
"Want me to re-break those ribs of yours?" she asked, in a low growl.
He opened then closed his mouth, shaking his head in the negative, then shrugged his shoulders, groaning softly.
"Oh, no you don't, Jarod?" You have something else you want to tell me, so why don't you spell it?"
Jarod looked almost miffed.
"Would you listen with an open mind, no more running and locking oneself in the bathroom?" he grimanced, sightly and placed a hand across his chest holding onto his ribcage.
"Do I have a choice? she bit back, eyeing him crictically, realizing suddenly that the trek down the hall bothered him more than he let on.
"You always have a choice, Parker. It's what you do with it once its presented to you," he whispered as he leaned against the wall, his breathing ragged.
"What the hell did you do, Jarod?" she reached out and touch his side, and he pulled back but not before wincing in pain.
"It's nothing," he stated, heading down the hallway toward the bedroom, "I'll be fine, I just need to retape them. No need to concern yourself."
"You arrogant son-of-a-bitch," her blue eyes level with his dark brown ones," I risked everything to get you the hell out, turning my back on my family and you tell me not to concern myself."
"Some family, Parker. A master manipulator and a serial killer," he spat back, then stopped talking when she looked away from him. He suddenly realized something about the both of them, they were like twins born to separate families, both wary, even of their own reflections.
Thanks to Niceole and Trish for suggestions. . . . if there are any errors they are mine and mine alone. . . . .hopefully to be continued.. . . .feedback is welcome. . .
SHANNON
feedback sent to Giglbarbe@aol.com
