Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story

- Text Size +

Author's Chapter Notes:

A/N- I promise I am working on Gone but Not Forgotten. Four chapters are at the mercy of the wonderful beta readers right now! However this story keeps popping into my brain, so I was forced to write it. Consequently, you are now being forced to read it. It’s meant to be vague, confusing, whatever you want to call it, but I promise all will be revealed if you stick with it. If I’m sneaky as I hope, it will leave you guessing until the end.

Thank you Onisius!!


“Does it have to be this way?”

 

“You already know the answer to that question.”

 

“I know but, with everything that we are capable of, you would think there would be another way to do this. What if something goes wrong? What if we didn’t account for something?”

 

“Something always goes wrong, it’s how we respond to those consequences that determines the real outcome.”

 

“We can’t fail at this. He will never forgive us if we do. I can’t bear to stomach the thought of what might happen if something happens, to him or to you. ”

 

“It won’t. Are you sure you can do this?”

 

“I should be the one asking you that question.”

 

“Honestly, I’m terrified. I never thought things would come to this. But I’ll do anything to avoid the alternative. Just promise me that he will never find out, I don’t care what you have to do. Lie, manipulate, scheme, but he can never find out.”

 

“And if he does?”

 

“If things go as planned, he’ll understand. He’ll find it in his heart to forgive me.”

 

“You mean forgive us?”

 

“No. He must never know that you were involved, please.”

 

“But –“

 

“No. It has to be this way. If things don’t go as planned, he needs to have at least one of us to hold on to.”

 

“What if…what if the treatments don’t work?”

 

“They will.”

 

“You can’t be certain of this, you can’t be certain of anything!”

 

“I have to believe they will, because if not, then all of this, what we are about to do, is pointless.”

************************

 

WEST COAST OF CALIFORNIA

 

Parker trained her gun on the door. With a half hearted nod at Sam, she braced herself, as the sweeper kicked the door down. It was the same dance she had been doing for the past six years. Day in, day out, he run, she chased, but it always turned out the same; she empty-handed and he the increasingly arrogant pretender.

 

She had long given up hope that one day they would find Jarod unsuspectingly sitting in one of his lairs. Their pursuit efforts were more of a formality now, done just to appease the Triumvirate and to feed Raines’ fantasy that everything would return to normal; his final glory as chairman of the Centre. Only she and Sam went on these escapades now, they didn’t bother wasting time by having Broots and Sydney there to analyze the results. They never led anywhere productive, only where Jarod wanted them to end up.

 

After returning from Scotland, Parker had received one last phone call from Jarod. After that, the pretender had dropped off the Centre’s radar completely. Parker had genuinely believed that Jarod had chosen to disappear, but two months ago, after nearly half a year of nothing, Jarod’s lairs had once again resurfaced. Parker didn’t know why, but something about them was bothering her. Nothing that had transpired in the last eight weeks felt exactly right. However she continued to ignore her gut feeling, citing it was due to paranoia after six long years of hunting, or just damn annoyance that she was still stuck in hell playing rat in Jarod’s maze.

 

The Centre was now focusing its efforts on rounding up the remaining members of Jarod’s family, especially the clone. Oddly enough, there had been more close calls with the fragmented members of the pretender’s family than with Jarod himself. It surprised Parker that after decades of successful escaping the Centre’s detection, for the most part anyways, that Jarod’s family was popping up like weeds in a garden. Something again wasn’t right. 

 

Her demented brother was in charge of rounding up Jarod’s family. Parker had been ordered by Raines to keep gunning for Jarod, and had been consequently left out of the other hunt entirely. They knew she didn’t agree with anything to do with Jarod’s clone, his imprisonment or his creation. Parker fully suspected that the wheezing bastard simply didn’t trust her enough to have her on the other pursuit. That was fine by her. Parading around the globe after one egotistical genius was more than enough to torture her. It was the promise of being freed from the endless chase that kept her motivated. At the end of the day it came down to simple mathematics – her life for Jarod’s.

 

There had been one very close call with the pretender’s family. Lyle had trapped Jarod’s clone at gunpoint, sweepers ready to pounce. Parker wasn’t sure of the details, she knew only that Lyle had returned to the Centre sporting a bullet-wound in his arm, and no clone in tow. He had not been very forthcoming with the details.

 

It was only after that incident that Jarod’s lairs had started to pop up again on the Centre’s radar. Several scenarios played out in Parker’s head, but she didn’t know what to believe. Jarod’s pretends were a lot less involved then they had previously been in the past. The last two months showed evidence that Jarod was still out there, helping the little guy, but as was increasingly becoming her motto; something wasn’t right.

 

Things were far from the status quo they had been before Scotland. But what had changed?  She had a hunch Jarod was trying to draw the Centre out and away from his family. Catch one – you catch them all. Jarod knew that, but she didn’t doubt for a second that Jarod was smart enough to keep his family safe from the Centre’s detection, constantly on the run, but safe. Why had he resurfaced, why now?

 

“It’s clean.” Sam confirmedm bringing Parker out of her thoughts.

 

She sighed in frustration. “Dance, puppet, dance.” She muttered. She was so damn tired of being Jarod’s marionette. “Call the cleanup crew and get this stuff shipped back to Oz.” She ordered, Sam nodding his agreement.

 

Parker idly grabbed the signature red notebook, uncaringly leafing through the headlines pasted within it. “Anonymous tip leads to discovery of new Cancer Therapy.” “New Cancer therapy could potentially save thousands.”

 

Parker snorted as an image of Jarod huddled around a microscope came to mind. She tossed the book aside, walking over to the window just as her cell began to ring.

 

“If it’s our boy-wonder, I swear I’m going to go postal.” She muttered to herself, flipping the cell open. “What?” Parker snapped, knowing it would likely be Jarod, ready to taunt her with another failure.

 

“Missed me again, did you now Miss Parker?” Jarod’s voice sounded, his taunting tone clairvoyantly obvious.

 

“I’m not even going to waste my breath on that Jarod. What do you want?” Parker snarled back.

 

The pretender remained silent. “Will it ever end Parker?” He questioned sadly.

 

“Will what end, Jarod?” She sighed, her voice edgy.

 

“The game. I run, you chase.” Jarod stated as it should have been nothing short of obvious.

 

“It will end the day you’re back in a 6x8 on SL-21 Jarod. You know that.” Parker snarled into her phone. She was not at all in the mood to wax philosophical with the pretender. He had Sydney to get him through his little ‘poor tortured me’ moments.

 

“And for my family?” The pretender questioned with a heavy sigh.

 

“You know the rules Jarod. No loose ends. Raines will not rest until you and your little carbon copy are back home.” Parker replied evenly. ‘And until the rest are dead.’ She added silently to herself.

 

“You honestly think, after all of these years, that you can still call the Centre my home?” Jarod questioned thickly, accusation ringing in his tone.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I think Jarod.” Parker muttered dejectedly.

 

“It matters to me.” The pretender replied emotionally.

 

Parker shook her head in frustration, yanking out her cigarettes, and angrily lit one. She had started smoking again after returning from Scotland, her life clearly was not going to be long or prosperous, she might as well indulge. Why was it that Jarod would not let it alone that she simply did not have it in her anymore to care? Why did he continually taunt her, question and dissect all her motives and decisions? It was damn annoying and she had long ago tired of it.

 

“How many times must I tell you that it’s strictly business, not personal Jarod. This dance is getting old.” She finally stated dryly, inhaling deeply as the nicotine worked its magic.

 

“How can you still stay that, after everything that has happened in the past six years Miss Parker?” Jarod asked. Parker instantly opened her mouth for her cold rebuttal, but hesitated as she heard the distant wail of a siren in the background of Jarod’s cellular.

 

“It’s the only way Jarod.” She informed the pretender. Moving to the window, Parker watched as a police cruiser flew by the low-rise apartment complex, the soft wail of the vehicle’s sirens penetrating the thick walls of the apartment she stood in. With a stark revelation Parker heard the siren slightly fade on Jarod’s end of the connection, in sync with the car her eyes had just witness fly by. Keeping up her end of the conversation, she continued on so Jarod would not get suspicious. “I gave up feeling a long time ago Jarod. So should you. Feelings, they only make you weak.”

 

He was here, somewhere outside, some where very close. For the first time in a long time, Parker felt herself come alive with the adrenaline of the chase.

 

“The second I stop caring, is the second they get what they want.” Jarod rebutted harshly. “Is that what you want Miss Parker?” He questioned accusingly.

 

“I’ll do anything Jarod, to get out of this nightmare you have forced me into.” She replied, her tone menacing as she walked onto the balcony of the apartment, scanning the people below. Jarod was no where to be seen.

 

She knew he wouldn’t so bluntly risk his safety, he would be somewhere out of sight, somewhere they would never think to look while checking out an abandoned lair; perhaps the roof?

 

“Unfortunately, this hell doesn’t end for me, not until you are back where you belong. Nothing can ever change that. It’s your ass for mine, mine for yours.”

 

“Well than, I’ve guess we have really reached our turning point Miss Parker. I only wish that it was in the direction your mother would have wanted for you.” Jarod informed her bitterly, before terminating the call.

 

Parker didn’t waste energy trying to decipher Jarod’s last words; she refused to be baited by another ‘missed turning-point’ speech.

 

“Sam.” She barked, pulling the sweeper away from the cleaner crew he was now directing.

 

“Roof. Let’s go.” She ordered the sweeper, not failing to notice the predatory hope that Sam showed on his face. She apparently wasn’t the only one growing tired of this game.

 

The pair ran up the last two flights of stairs, pausing briefly when they reached the rooftop. With a deep breath, Parker slowly opened the door, trying to minimize the element of surprise should the pretender actually be up here.

 

She couldn’t believe her eyes, as Jarod’s form stood only meters from her, his back to them. Why would he risk his freedom to taunt her when she was only floors below him? The pretender was dressed in a formal looking pinstripe suit, indicating he had likely just finished his pretend.

 

 

“You just couldn’t resist, could you Jarod?” Parker announced her arrival with a teasing tone.

 

“Miss Parker.” Jarod replied evenly, fear dancing in his eyes as he turned to meet her and Sam, the ever faithful sweeper was just a few feet behind the huntress. The suit filled out his slender frame nicely, and Parker had to admit he looked good; damn good.   

 

“It’s always the smart ones that do something stupid isn’t it now Sam.” The sweeper grunted his reply, cocking his gun at pointing calmly towards Jarod. Parker predatorily approached the pretender, continuing on her sarcastic tirade. “You were so sure of your abilities; you didn’t even bother to leave the building before taunting me with another failure.”

 

“I would rather use the word enlighten Miss Parker.” Jarod replied calmly. “I don’t taunt.”

 

“Whatever Jarod. Six years of you run and I chase – it’s finally over.” Parker couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

 

Jarod made a show of looking around, sighing contently in the strong California sun. “We are far away from the Centre, Miss Parker. What is the saying again? It’s not over until the fat lady sings?”

 

Parker snorted. “When the bald man wheezes more like it.” Hardening her eyes, she turned to the sweeper, keeping her gun trained on her prize. “Sam, restrain him.” She held her gun steady, knowing Jarod would likely try to bolt.


Parker raised her eyebrows as Jarod barely flinched as Sam approached him, the open handcuffs clinking. The pretender kept his eyes on her, barely moving as his hands were restrained behind his back. Jarod hadn’t attempted so much as one step away from them. She heard her earlier thoughts echoing once again in her head. ‘Something isn’t right’.

 

“Consider this your Centre reality check Jarod. You’re coming home. There are no hurricanes, no planes to crash land, no little boys to save. The chase is ending the way it was always meant too, me dragging your sorry ass back to where it belongs.”

 

“I don’t belong there. No one does.” The pretender returned, hardness in his voice.

 

Parker stood back, watching as Jarod sighed heavily. She could easily read the resignation in his eyes. She gave the pretender a cruel smile before turning to Sam. “Take Jarod to the car.” She ordered.

 

“Yes Miss Parker.” Sam replied, his normally gruff voice notably more upbeat.

 

Parker followed closely behind Sam and Jarod as they ascended the six floors to ground level, exiting into the back alley. It had been too easy, much too easy.

 

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me where the DSAs are Jarod?” Parker asked as Sam let go of Jarod’s arm and opened the back door to their town car. She stepped up to the pretender, grabbing onto his bicep. His submissive behaviour wasn’t going to fool her for one moment.

 

The pretender shrugged. “Not especially.” He responded as if distracted.

 

“Didn’t think so.” Parker replied as she shoved Jarod into the back seat, before tossing Sam the keys.  She didn’t really care as the other two members of her demented family were much more adept at extracting information. If they wanted their little home movie collection back, it was their own damn problem.

 

As Sam pulled the town car back onto the main road, Parker studied Jarod, watching as the pretender squirmed slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. He had his face almost pressed against the window, his head tilted upwards, as if he was trying to absorb every last solar ray.

 

‘He is.’ Parker realized bitterly. She turned away from the pretender, instead studying the cell phone she held clutched in her hands. She should be feeling nothing but glee at this moment. Parker had waited six long years to be able to make this call. She had visited more backwards towns than she ever wished to know existed, pretended to Broots’ wife, been strip-searched in Las Vegas, just to name a few on an exhaustive list. She should be relishing this moment; it was what she had dreamed off all of these years. So why was it so damn hard to make the call? Something just didn’t feel right.

 

“Inner-conflict, Miss Parker?” Jarod questioned bitterly. She met the pretender’s eyes, giving him a cold hard stare as her defences snapped back into place.

 

“Just enjoying the moment Jarod.” She informed him as she snapped her flip-phone open, as if trying to prove a point. Without breaking eye contact with the pretender she activated her speed-dial. She had won.    

 

With a tight smile only for Jarod’s benefit, Parker spoke confidently as her call was answered. “Chairman’s office.” She paused briefly, allowing Raines’s secretary to respond.

 

“It’s Parker. Tell him that his pretender is on his way home.”

 

Victory was sweet.

 

So why did it feel so damn wrong?










You must login (register) to review.