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I do not own Pretender. This was written strictly for entertainment and makes no profit.

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You better not say it. Her inner sense was warning her. Be a good friend. Don’t say it.

Miss Parker knew it would take awhile, and how it would probably end, so she sat down in a seat. She wasn’t watching whatever they were doing. If that woman Zoe actually stayed with Jarod after hearing Miss Parker was carrying his twins, and staying beside him? He better just marry her because a lot wouldn’t stay to salvage whatever on/off thing they had.

It couldn’t be super often, The Centre would find any girlfriend and use her against him. Miss Parker was already taking mental notes in her head of everything about Zoe. If anything big changed, you never know what came in handy.

You better not say it to him. Her inner sense. Why was it always so against her? You better not say it. He’s going to be hurt. Your friend is going to be hurting, so you better be nice!

Still. I told him so. He could have salvaged it with a lie. She would have gone along with it. Having someone else there for Jarod, she would have felt less trapped and more inclined to do her own surveying. And, having Zoe over his head, she could have used it as a form of blackmail too to get a few night freedoms. It probably wouldn’t work for ensuring he couldn’t take her children, but in worst case scenarios, at least she would have had something.

She watched his sagging body almost lifting itself to come her way. Aw, no late night snookie.

Be nice. He knows he’s alone again. He was nice with you with Thomas.

There is a huge difference between my Tommy and little red curls ‘let’s-meet-up’! To even say that? I know another word for inner sense. A hemorrhoid.

He lost the only person in the outside world that he loved and trusted.

I know. Yes, he’d be hurting. But if he just let me have the kids and not come after them, little red curls wouldn’t mosey away.

Don’t even! You know Jarod would choose them. Their family. Now say something nice!

Miss Parker watched him sit down across from her.

Say something nice to your friend.

“Calcium is important for bone growth, you should get something with calcium,” Jarod said.

Say something nice to your friend, Miss Parker.

“There’s a two for one sale on grilled cheese sandwiches,” Miss Parker said. “That’s a nice deal.”

That’s not what I meant!

 With tomato in the middle. The grilled cheese were plain and they didn’t have tomato in the middle. Did that place have tomatoes? “Are there tomatoes?” She moved up and looked around. Expecting to find tomatoes down in there wouldn’t be easy. It was a gas station with only a little bit of ‘stop to eat’ prepared food.

“Were almost to our destination,” Jarod said from behind her, spooking her a second. Ugh! She hated when he did that. “I grabbed a couple grilled cheese. Let’s go.”

Needs tomato. There was no tomato. The closest she found was some cheap boxes of quick nuke pasta in the microwave with sauce. Tomato sauce. That would work. “Here, this too.” She grabbed a couple of boxes.

Jarod just gave her an odd look as he looked down at the 3 minute pastas. It looked like he was debating something, but she didn’t know what was in his head half the time. All she knew was that the grilled cheese with the pasta sauce would work. “This’ll need water and heat, Miss Parker. I don’t carry that in my car.”

“I just want the sauce,” she insisted. “For the middle of a grilled cheese. Do I really have to justify my need for you to do that?” she asked him gravely. “You know my money’s locked up in my account, and you aren’t making gobs of money being out here working, you steal funds from the Centre. Speaking of which, how you can’t seem to be genius enough to get my own money-“

“I have a system.” Jarod didn’t say anything else. “No, you don’t have to justify anything. Just curious, Miss Parker. One of those social interaction things, remember? Curiosity.”

“Way too curious. That’s always the big problem with you.” She would social interact with the side of his head if he kept talking to her about this. She wanted to get out of there and just eat already. “The Centre didn’t know about her, did they?” Brief. Just a check.

“No one tagged her. I . . . taught her how to make sure it was always safe. To meet.” He sounded a little sad, but seemed to slightly bounce back. “Off we go again?”

“Whoopee.”

Something nice. Think of something nice to say to your friend.

Ethan was lucky. He had a bunch of nice inner sense to choose from. Hers? Was the annoying kid version just after her mother died. And that was it. And if it got too mad, it would reveal itself, making her feel like she was going crazy. Screw inner sense. Screw it. She was much better off without it. “You know, we’re having twins, Jarod. Why don’t you pick a name for the boy. Anything but Jarod.” He didn’t respond. Fine, whatever.

Then he did. “I’ll think about a name,” he finally said. “I’ve never named something before that wasn’t inanimate. That’ll be a new experience.”

Great. Oh great, she probably started up his brain.

 

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The cravings of pregnancy, if they could be fulfilled, couldn’t be denied. Jarod watched as Miss Parker opened the grilled cheese in the car down the center, tore open the microwave quick pasta, taking out the pasta sauce, opening the packet with her teeth, draining it in the middle of the grilled cheese, so much so, that the cheese was almost not showing.

Then she flipped it back into one, bit into it, and her expression signaled her craving desire was being fulfilled.

Jarod looked back ahead. Although the Sydney stimuli with her was a low blow, she could have definitely teased him about Zoe. He expected it. He was even trying to arm himself for the barrage of ‘I told you so’s’ that she should have had. He was ready to defend his position. Instead, she hardly mentioned her, only once to make sure they weren’t followed. Satisfying her own curiosity.

Then her interest lied more in her cravings. He figured after that, then maybe Miss Parker would say something about it. Hitting people when they were down, that was her style. Maybe she just didn’t know how much Zoe meant to him, so she wasn’t on a tier above her own food?

That thought hurt too, but once again, it didn’t come. Instead.

She wanted him to name the boy.

From the way she looked around, and the simple mutterings here and there, he was reminded of Ethan. It was subtle, and not many people would have caught it. But it had to be it. “So?” Jarod asked. “Hearing your inner sense better?”

She stopped eating a second as she looked toward Jarod. It was almost like he said something wrong to her. It was pure curiosity, he wasn’t making fun of her to start a fight. She went back to eating.

Her actions told him he nailed it on the head, and whatever it was saying to her, was pure annoyance. She clearly didn’t get something that sounded like her mother’s voice like Ethan did. Jarod didn’t push that subject, he had his answer. Instead, he started thinking of names.

Naming someone. Once named, it wouldn’t be undone. That was a different kind of pressure than Jarod was used to. He was the decider. Not to save a life like he had several times in the past, but to raise a life. While he had done many things in the outside world, and he analyzed a ton of last names to decipher which one would be the best to go with under each identity? Naming wasn’t one of them.

When he found baby Michael in the dumpster, he was told to give it a name, and he refused. He had his own name, and he found it. Well, this one had no name. He would be the one deciding.

Casual? Named after someone he admired? Popular? While he was thinking though, his phone rang.

Sydney or family. No one else would have the number. Jarod pulled over to the side and answered the phone. Seeing the number, he could tell which one it was. “Sydney. It’s a pleasure. Are you back to your old hunting routine yet?”

“Not yet. The usual running of The Centre today seems slightly slower. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Fine.”

“And Miss Parker?”

Mm, that was my favorite phrase in his voice, with just a small raise in the ‘Par’. Mixed with his accent and the sounds of his feet-Jarod banged the phone on his head, trying to stop that thought again. “She’s fine, what is it?”

“Well, this is quite a change from the usual. I just wanted to make sure you both are fine. Are you alright, Jarod?”

“Yes, fine, Sydney.”

“A little hot and sticky,” Miss Parker said on the other side of him. She was commenting on the grilled cheese, but Jarod’s head was anything but normal right now.

“I can’t right now, Sydney, here, want to know how she’s been, talk to her.” He handed the phone to Miss Parker.

She just looked at him oddly as she was cleaning her hands. She set the napkin to the side and took the phone. “What, Syd.” She just looked out the window space. “No, it’s fantastic, I love riding in barren wastelands and relying on Jarod of all people because I have no money because for some reason his genius ass is incompetent in figuring out how to get into my account. How are you?” There was a pause again. “Really, Syd? I thought Raines would really be riding your ass by now.”

Jarod immediately took the phone from her. “I’m sure things’ll be back to normal soon. We’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone. Soon, he’d be in his new place of residence. A new place to call home for awhile to learn new experiences. That would do him a lot of good.

He looked back toward Miss Parker. Well.

It was time. “My Pretendings. You won’t need to know everything by heart, just enough that when others meet you, they are bound to believe you. Your role, Miss Parker, is pregnant girlfriend. Nice and simple. Don’t get fancy. The name of the college or school we met may have to change, some things will need to change in different places. I’ll make a pack up for you, so you can easily carry it and memorize it.” The less she actually had to pretend, the better. Being only a pregnant girlfriend, they would be able to dodge questions about remembering marriage dates. It would make it a little bit of a hassle, and might have to change in some areas to actually married considering his actions of having kids and not being married might be off-putting on some pretendings that would need people to see him a certain way.

Otherwise, it would be easier. Her made up maiden name could remain the same since it wasn’t something they would be spouting off for every pretend. Unless someone asked her for a last name specifically, she wouldn’t have to do that. He made up a whole family history for her, something akin to her own, with some slight changes.

There was only one thing left. He kept his first name the same. Jarod was what he had of himself, always. It was always the same. “Miss Parker. You need to go by a first name only.” He tried it out. “Miss.”

She wasn’t happy. “Not everyone gets to call me that, Jar. If I have to go by anything, Miss P.”

“That name will be the first thing The Centre looks for.”

“They look for Jarod.”

“Which is easier than people going by Miss  P or Miss Parker,” Jarod said. “Missy?”

Don’t call me that.” She wouldn’t let that go. It made sense. That was what Thomas Gates had called her. The love of her life. That he found for her.

He found him for her. Zoe was wrong, whatever she thought in the end. It was the unsettling thought of Sydney and Miss Parker with the added stimuli, even if it was just through voice, that was harder to bear. He wanted her to have a chance at being happy.

But. That was before . . . Carthis. No, that wasn’t helping. Right now he was on her want to burn alive list because of the fate of the unborns they shared. Although, as much as she despised him, she was oddly also . . . relaxed.

Her mouth could say what it wanted, but her neck was loose, her legs weren’t folded, her hands weren’t pressing on anything. Her breathing was fine. Her body was like jello, like she’d been resting on the beach all day.

Maybe it was knowing that Jarod had always been uncatchable. Maybe she secretly liked the long drive of nothingness she just complained about.

Maybe it was just the pregnancy making her more tired than anything, he realized as she was falling asleep slowly in her seat. Getting to America from South Africa was no fun trip, it took nearly a day. After a simple meal and a quick shop and grab of simple garments (that said local, not fashion approved) so she could stay cool and loose on the long drives, he headed out with her and didn’t say much. She did need extra rest. She needed something better in her stomach that it wouldn’t reject.

And he lost the crackers for her nausea when Zoe had found him. The whole reason he stopped there in the first place. And he just now realized that? My head is somewhere else, I need to concentrate better. If Sydney knew how bad I was doing. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t in The Centre. He could take it easy and not analyze every single thing. He had to learn how to take it easier when he first escaped. Too much stimuli otherwise.

The factors that he was used to changed as well. He wasn’t alone, driving, thinking of his next move and Pretend. He was thinking about the person right next to him, carrying his unborn future family members, and wondering how different it would be when they were born. He couldn’t just pretend himself into it.

He’d tried it many times already. Watching. Waiting. Learning. Seeing things from a different point of view, crawling into someone else’s skin, he did that. More than once. But they were all different. Every experience.

Like love. He knew all the signals and outward stimuli, but until he experienced it for the first time, he couldn’t truly grasp it.

Being a father, seemed to be the same thing. Some people wanted nothing but to have their children before they were born, eager and willing. Some people fell into it, like it was a part of life, and went with it. Others seemed repelled, like they were stuck somewhere they shouldn’t be, or never wanted to be.

Getting a child candy to see them happy. Yelling at them for nothing but not standing in line straight. Even out there, far away from the multitudes of people living in a city, he had seen examples. And he would see even more.

 

“They might think it’s Misspy, all one word,” Miss Parker said, the tired sound in her voice echoed in the car, bringing Jarod back around to the present again. Her eyes were drooping, but she was fighting it of course. And fighting to have her name.

Fighting to keep some form of her identity. Unlike Jarod, she had that. A lot of it. A whole family heritage dating all the way back to Carthis. Even if it was cursed, it was still hers. “Miss,” Jarod said. “There’s nothing wrong with just a first name. You used to accept it a little better. Just embrace it.”

“The Centre is going to start looking for a connection between those names right away,” she said. “I don’t go by a single name.”

Fighting tooth and nail. No matter how much her body was overworked, Miss Parker would fight for what she still wanted. There was another choice that would definitely stimulate a reaction from her. Whether it was good or bad, he wouldn’t know until he tried it. “How about Angel then?”

“No, that’d be confusing,” Miss Parker said. He was surprised he didn’t get a bigger reaction in some way for trying that name. “It’s already her name.”

Her name? “Whose?”

“Your daughters.”

What? That’s what she picked? Her pet name her ‘daddy’ called her? The name the crypt creeper called his daughter a hundred years ago? “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” There was that glare he was waiting for. “What’s wrong with Angel?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jarod said, his voice showing his irritation, almost guttural. “Calling my own daughter the same thing as the man who stole my parents and life away called his? It just doesn’t sit that well with me.” Absolutely not. “No.”

 

“You are having your daughter, with the daughter of that man,” she said dangerously. “Don’t complain.”

Well, that wasn’t nice. I loved the name Angel. It made me feel special. I wanted her to feel special too.

Finally, her inner sense was agreeing with her. “You’re naming my son. I named my daughter.”

“Well, nice to see I need to get your permission to name one of our kids, but I don’t get any say so for the other one,” Jarod said sarcastically. “Use Angel as your first name out here if you don’t want Miss, and we’ll name the girl something else.”

“No.” She wasn’t backing down on that. “I already named my daughter. I’m not switching it.” She had dwelled on Catherine a time, but when she thought of her dad and how the name Angel made her feel, it only seemed right. She didn’t care if it felt creepy to him, it was a wonderful name. And, even if it was a tie to the crypt keeper who burned his family in their home . . . it was probably something he’d called her before the tragedy, not after.

“Not happening, Parker. Someone in my family isn’t going by that.”

Someone in his family. “It’s. Mine. Too.”

“It’s ours,” Jarod said. “I don’t agree with that name.” He seemed to be thinking. “You like Angel. You can use that out here in the real world. We can find something that fits her better.”

What a jerk!

Agreed.

I hate when Jarod does things against me like that. I am Miss Parker. No one pushes me around.

Completely.

I loved that name. If I want to name my daughter that, I will!

Damn right.

 

They were almost there. Not very long now, but he wasn’t getting Miss Parker to accept anything yet. Dilemma. One he didn’t see coming. Miss Parker never changed her mind. Getting her to name it something different would be next to impossible.

 And eventually, with a name like Miss someone was going to tease it. Miss Miss. Mrs Miss.

In the Centre, names had a certain meaning.

First name only. It meant beneath them, lower in importance. Mister Raines. Mister Lyle. Mister Parker. Miss Parker. Even Miss P. It was one of the reasons he took to calling Broots, Mister Broots. Enough people put him down in The Centre. His reasons for being there, valid or not, he deserved a degree of respect.

Sydney saw it differently. He wasn’t using a first and last name to loiter over others. He simply went with what his gut believed.

Last names had power there though. Parker holding the most. Even worse, someone might try calling her Missy and get a busted finger. There’s no time left. She isn’t backing down. She felt strongly about the first name only, except for what her father called her. His special little name, for her and her alone.

Angel.

Despite where it came from, angels were good creatures. He loved angels, the thought of beings watching over humanity. A symbol of good. Could he see it in that light, instead of hearing Mister Parker’s voice within it? “Compromise.”

“Compromise?” Miss Parker looked toward him. “What kind of compromise we talking about?”

“Take just your first name out here,” Jarod said, “and if anyone teases it, or accidently calls you Missy, you don’t hurt them.”

“Physically?”

“Physically or with your words,” Jarod said. “And unless you strongly feel you need to harm, you have to be nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes, that thing you do once in a great while when you don’t hurt anybody,” Jarod said. “Most people out here, they should be nice to you, if you’re nice to them. Do that and . . . officially we’ll make it her name. But I don’t have to call her that.”

 

Jarod didn’t want to call her that? That was fine, as long as she got the official ruling. But. People just calling her Miss. The thought was annoying her, greatly. Hardly anyone did that. If they did, they didn’t do it for long.

But her little girl was getting the name she deserved. She would be someone special. Know she was special, no matter what happened in the future. And that name. “Fine.”

“Good. Miss. Because we’re less than an hour from home.”

 

 










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