A/N: Dedicated to Mickey, who was having a bad day and needed a bit of shipper. Shall I continue?

Jarod, Not Nobody

by RRP


Be not nobody.

The words echoed in his head, and he couldn’t get rid of them. He didn’t know where they had come from, or why. The phrase had just popped in his head, and refused to leave him alone. Refused!

It couldn’t mean much, but he had the haunting feeling that it meant something. Possibly, maybe, it meant that he had to be his own person. He couldn’t Pretend forever, and he had to be someone when he was not pretending.

Was he, Jarod, really his own person? Was there a personality, a meaningful life, underneath the weight of the world? Apart from Pretending, could he be somebody? Doubts swirled in his head, a vacuuming vortex in a murky night mind. He wanted to be someone, he wanted Jarod to be someone.

Before he could change his mind, he picked up the phone.

“What?”

Even half-asleep and growling, she sounded beautiful. There was no other way to put it. She just sounded beautiful. He allowed a smile to creep across his face, and his soul to revel in thoughts of her.

“Miss Parker, have you ever suffered a mid-life crisis?” He asked contemplatively, determined to get her chatting, and then really talking. He needed to really talk to someone, and something said that she was the one to talk to.

“Jarod, my whole freaking life has been a crisis. No mid-life required.” Was the tired response, followed by a sigh. He heard something crinkle on her side of the line, and guessed she was sitting up in bed– the crinkle could have been her bed creaking, her covers shifting, or she could be wearing one of those revealing little pieces of...

With a frown, he pushed those thoughts away.

“You ever wonder what the words, ‘be not nobody’ mean?” Jarod asked, feeling compelled to do so. He was truly curious as to what her response would be.

“I don’t know, Jarod.” She answered with another exhausted sigh. “Does this conversation have a point?”

“I’m not sure. Do you know who I am? I’ve been trying to figure that one out.”

“Look, Jarod. I’m not in the mood for your twisted little family-finder games, okay?” Miss Parker was thoroughly exasperated with the man, and didn’t mind letting him know.

“No, Parker. Me. I want to know who I am. And I was thinking, maybe you could help me?”

“How exactly?” She asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. Jarod fiddled with his thumbs, and leaned back in his chair before answering.

“They say sex can be therapeutic, but I was thinking we could talk for a while, have dinner or something. Save getting laid for later.” Jarod smirked, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“Hmm...where do you want to meet?”

“What?” Jarod nearly flew out of his chair. He had been fully expecting her to say no, and then hang up with a curse or two for good measure. “Umm...Sydney’s cabin?”

“Sounds good to me Wonderboy. See you tomorrow night? Just so you know, I don’t cook.”

With that, she hung up. And Jarod felt very much like he was soon to find out exactly who Jarod was. With a little help of course...

A Man Named Jarod

by RRP


Jarod crept towards the cabin, looking around nervously for any sign of Sweepers or the Centre, but he could find none. Miss Parker’s Boxster sat in the driveway, and he could see her looking out at the lake from the porch. He sneaked closer to the cabin, jumping at every small sound.

When he was confident she was alone, he straightened and walked straight up to her. She eyed him cautiously and carefully, and he eyed her back. Nothing was said as he stepped up onto the porch, and stood next to her, looking over the lake.

“This is real.” Miss Parker announced suddenly, turning to him.

“What?” Jarod’s face was a mixture of confusion and nameless emotion as he looked down at her.

“You asked who you were. You have to start by determining what around you is real, first. Sydney told me that once. And this, Jarod. Standing on a porch, looking at a lake, this is real. Just like paying bills and cleaning the house, making dinner and going to work, this is real. You can’t forget that peace is supposed to be a part of life, and if life’s not giving it to you, then you’ve got to fight to get some. It’s who you are everyday, how you think and react to things, that make you who you are.”

“Very good advice.” Jarod nodded thoughtfully, looking back to the lake. “This is real...” He repeated the words in a low whisper, and Miss Parker sat down on a deck chair. He sat on the chair next to hers, and looked over at her. “So, what is real for us? You chasing me, or us being friends?”

“It’s not that simple, Jarod.” Miss Parker replied quietly. “Sometimes the lines blur. And that’s real. Real life isn’t fine cut black and white shapes. Chasing you is my job, and being your friend is my personal choice. The question is, are you running from me? Am I me when I chase you? The answer is no. When I’m chasing you, I represent the Centre. When you run, you represent a very valuable Centre-asset. When we’re friends, we’re people. Both are real, because both are life.”

“What if we don’t like life?” Jarod protested, slightly angered at her cool discussion of his constant need to be on the move, his never-ending terror of returning to the Centre.

“Then we live with it anyway. Some things in life, Jarod, you can’t change. That’s what makes it life. And how you live with it makes you who you are.”

“Not fair.”

“No one said it was, Wonderboy.” Miss Parker answered with a small smile. He acted like a child sometimes, still throwing silent tantrums when things didn’t go his way. She knew she wasn’t much different, which made it all the funnier.

“So, who am I?” Jarod asked with frown, glaring at the lake. “Who am I?”

“You’re Jarod. The extremely complex genius who is very human despite popular belief at the Centre. You care about family, and you care about people. You like to help others, and aren’t afraid to go out of your way to do so. You, Jarod, are a very real, very important, very much alive person.”

Jarod said nothing in reply to her firm response, and they sat in silence for a bit longer. The sun was starting to dip rather low in the sky before he spoke again. “If that’s me, then who are you?”

“I, Jarod, am a rather tired woman who had a hard day at work and then had to drive out to the middle of nowhere to assure a man who’s I.Q. was much larger than her’s that he did indeed have a life, and that he wasn’t a nobody. I’m also glad I came, but dreading the long drive home.”

“Why do you have to go home? Doesn’t Sydney have two beds inside?” Jarod asked with a puzzled frown, looking at her with his head tilted sideways.

“Yes, but the door is unfortunately locked and the patience I’ve been saving all day for our talk a few minutes ago, is now wearing quite thin.” Miss Parker pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off an incoming headache, and closed her eyes briefly.

“Well then,” Jarod grinned, “I’m glad I know where Sydney keeps the spare key.” He flipped the door mat over, and retrieved a dusty silver key, all without getting up from his chair. Jarod stood and unlocked the door, and swung it open for Miss Parker to walk through. She did so, with a surprised smile, and spoke as she entered.

“Wonderboy isn’t an idiot after all.”

Jarod grinned. She was still the same Miss Parker, alright, and he was most definitely a man named Jarod.