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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is my first attempt at Pretender Fanfiction, but the challange was laid out so as per the rules of combat I had no choice but to respond in kind.
The Pre-quel to Sleepyhead (or Sleepyhead minus1) whichever you prefer.
The nightmares had plauged Jarod again that night; they were getting so intense that his head throbbed when he awoke. Well at least that was his first thought, that it was the nightmares that had made his head feel like a lead balloon.
Dropping his forehead into his hands, he rubbed at his temples with his thumbs trying to wipe out the last trace of the horror movie running inside his head. He was hoping that pushing back those reels of memories would release the pain encircling his head. It wasn't working though, his head still felt like it was in a vice grip and now his eyes even burned.
Could this day get any worse?
Not likely.
Jarod had never been sick in his life, so when he started to sit up in his bed only to be racked with hoarse coughing, he felt dimly amused to be experiencing something new. But that feeling left quickly, mild amusement for his condition was betrayed by the sick feeling he got when he tried to walk.
Nothing is ever easy.
His first impulse was to call Sydney. Sydney would know what to do; maybe there was something that had lingered in his DNA his whole life, a latent time bomb just waiting for the trigger. Maybe someone at the Centre implanted a fail safe, a kill switch in their crown jewel. There were so many secrets that had been left to rot in that place, down in the underground that is was not impossible, improbable; Yes, impossible; No.
Could it be that this was their way to get him to go back to that prison? And if that were true, why wasn’t it activated sooner? Would Sydney even warn him?
By now Jarod’s active imagination was streaming in vivid color as he picked up the handset on the telephone. His fingers hovered over the numbers.
What if it was just the flu? Could it be that simple, so cut and dry?
Checking his alarm clock, which was reading 4:14 AM he put the phone back down. Rousing Sydney in the wee hours just because he had a belly ache would be not be prudent.
No, it was a very far leap from prudent.
Finally accepting the fact that he was sick was not an easy feat for Jarod, but after an hour of gut wrenching coughs and still not able to stop the pain in his head, he conceded.
His half empty glass of Orange Juice sat on his bedside table amidst Twinkie wrappers and pez containers which he promptly swept onto the floor to make room for the box of tissues he found that he constantly had to use.
Oh, if Ms. Parker could only see him now, all curled up in his bed under the covers, trying to hide like a hurt animal licking his Wounds.
Would she show any compassion or would it be business as usual?
At that moment a rather amusing thought popped into his head, Ms. Parker was the ice queen; perhaps her chilly touch would rescind his fever better than a cold pack. He chuckled at that thought but regretted it instantly; as soon as he began to laugh his chest felt like someone had landed a cement sack directly on it, this was promptly followed up by an encore bout of wheezing coughs.
"I have the damn flu." Jarod mumbled as he leaned back on the pillows.
Having already diagnosed himself with the flu and another few hours of being miserable, Jarod decided that it was time to self-medicate. Shopping that day at the drugstore was not a pleasant experience to say the least. The overhead fluorescent lights made his head hurt even more and more than once he had to set his shopping basket down as he erupted into another coughing fit. But that wasn't what took so long, What took so long was Jarod’s own instinct curiosity about all the different medications on the shelves. He had literally picked up every different brand of flu medication in the store, scrutinizing every label and ingredient.
Never having to purchase such products before he was extremely particular when it came to selecting one.
So he Didn't...He bought the lot of them and hurried back to where he was staying, eager to find some relief even if just a marginal one.
Never had he felt this exhausted, Maybe it was the flu that had caused most of the fatigue which was flooding through is body in vast currents, but the lack of rest on his last pretend had taken its toll as well. That last pretend was a doozy indeed. His bones still ached but sleeping during that pretend was not an option.
Life could be harsh.
Jarod dumped out the bag of medications on his bed and began reading through the labels once more, they all promised the user would feel relief, some even guaranteed it. There were medications that could ease the coughing, help his headache, stop his sniffling, take down his fever and one that would make his stomach settle down, but there was nothing efficient enough (In his opinion) to cover all his symptoms.
This will not do.
So instead of taking each medicine individually, he set about working on his own formula, a combination of all of them.
Jarod's Flu cocktail was in the works.
After adding a bit of this and a bit of that, he looked down into the ruddy thick liquid he had concocted, it smelled terrible but it tasted even worse.
Twenty minutes after ingesting his wonder drug, he found himself incredibly tired; his eyes began to close slowly as he made his way back to his bed.
He was fast asleep before his head hit the pillow.
The nightmares had plauged Jarod again that night; they were getting so intense that his head throbbed when he awoke. Well at least that was his first thought, that it was the nightmares that had made his head feel like a lead balloon.
Dropping his forehead into his hands, he rubbed at his temples with his thumbs trying to wipe out the last trace of the horror movie running inside his head. He was hoping that pushing back those reels of memories would release the pain encircling his head. It wasn't working though, his head still felt like it was in a vice grip and now his eyes even burned.
Could this day get any worse?
Not likely.
Jarod had never been sick in his life, so when he started to sit up in his bed only to be racked with hoarse coughing, he felt dimly amused to be experiencing something new. But that feeling left quickly, mild amusement for his condition was betrayed by the sick feeling he got when he tried to walk.
Nothing is ever easy.
His first impulse was to call Sydney. Sydney would know what to do; maybe there was something that had lingered in his DNA his whole life, a latent time bomb just waiting for the trigger. Maybe someone at the Centre implanted a fail safe, a kill switch in their crown jewel. There were so many secrets that had been left to rot in that place, down in the underground that is was not impossible, improbable; Yes, impossible; No.
Could it be that this was their way to get him to go back to that prison? And if that were true, why wasn’t it activated sooner? Would Sydney even warn him?
By now Jarod’s active imagination was streaming in vivid color as he picked up the handset on the telephone. His fingers hovered over the numbers.
What if it was just the flu? Could it be that simple, so cut and dry?
Checking his alarm clock, which was reading 4:14 AM he put the phone back down. Rousing Sydney in the wee hours just because he had a belly ache would be not be prudent.
No, it was a very far leap from prudent.
Finally accepting the fact that he was sick was not an easy feat for Jarod, but after an hour of gut wrenching coughs and still not able to stop the pain in his head, he conceded.
His half empty glass of Orange Juice sat on his bedside table amidst Twinkie wrappers and pez containers which he promptly swept onto the floor to make room for the box of tissues he found that he constantly had to use.
Oh, if Ms. Parker could only see him now, all curled up in his bed under the covers, trying to hide like a hurt animal licking his Wounds.
Would she show any compassion or would it be business as usual?
At that moment a rather amusing thought popped into his head, Ms. Parker was the ice queen; perhaps her chilly touch would rescind his fever better than a cold pack. He chuckled at that thought but regretted it instantly; as soon as he began to laugh his chest felt like someone had landed a cement sack directly on it, this was promptly followed up by an encore bout of wheezing coughs.
"I have the damn flu." Jarod mumbled as he leaned back on the pillows.
Having already diagnosed himself with the flu and another few hours of being miserable, Jarod decided that it was time to self-medicate. Shopping that day at the drugstore was not a pleasant experience to say the least. The overhead fluorescent lights made his head hurt even more and more than once he had to set his shopping basket down as he erupted into another coughing fit. But that wasn't what took so long, What took so long was Jarod’s own instinct curiosity about all the different medications on the shelves. He had literally picked up every different brand of flu medication in the store, scrutinizing every label and ingredient.
Never having to purchase such products before he was extremely particular when it came to selecting one.
So he Didn't...He bought the lot of them and hurried back to where he was staying, eager to find some relief even if just a marginal one.
Never had he felt this exhausted, Maybe it was the flu that had caused most of the fatigue which was flooding through is body in vast currents, but the lack of rest on his last pretend had taken its toll as well. That last pretend was a doozy indeed. His bones still ached but sleeping during that pretend was not an option.
Life could be harsh.
Jarod dumped out the bag of medications on his bed and began reading through the labels once more, they all promised the user would feel relief, some even guaranteed it. There were medications that could ease the coughing, help his headache, stop his sniffling, take down his fever and one that would make his stomach settle down, but there was nothing efficient enough (In his opinion) to cover all his symptoms.
This will not do.
So instead of taking each medicine individually, he set about working on his own formula, a combination of all of them.
Jarod's Flu cocktail was in the works.
After adding a bit of this and a bit of that, he looked down into the ruddy thick liquid he had concocted, it smelled terrible but it tasted even worse.
Twenty minutes after ingesting his wonder drug, he found himself incredibly tired; his eyes began to close slowly as he made his way back to his bed.
He was fast asleep before his head hit the pillow.
