Disclaimer: I don't own Pretender, although if I did, the US would have had DVDs for years now.

Author's Note: This story was archived at the-pretender.de, and I recently uploaded it to fanfiction.net. I wrote it in high school, so please don't judge it too harshly. I do have two other parts to this, and I'm going to archive them, but they are not really all that great. I changed a few errors in the text, and took out an ending line that a reader pointed out didn't really fit.

Ordinary Encounter I: Miss Parker

I was frantic. It just slipped right out of my fingers, and I was powerless to catch it as it fell to the hard concrete beneath where I was sitting. Even worse, I could not find it. I must have searched for a good five minutes, maybe more, when I heard the footsteps.

They were short, and staccato, a woman’s heels, and I thought they sounded purposeful, as if she was headed somewhere important, to meet someone perhaps. I hesitated before speaking up, but I was desperate, and I needed to find it. I said:

“Excuse me, Miss…”

The footsteps stopped, and she said, “What?”

It was such an annoyed tone of voice, I thought about saying, “never mind,” but something kept me pressing on. So instead, I said, “My ring, I dropped it, and I can’t find it. Would you help me look?”

“What are you, blind? Find it yourself.” she retorted, then, “Oh, sorry,” in a much gentler voice.

I was only a little insulted. Being blind all my life, I expect this sort of thing, and so I only said, “It’s okay, I’m used to it, but, I thought that maybe you could find my ring much more quickly than I could.”

“Sure, why not” she said, in an almost friendly tone. She muttered something under her breath about everyone always expecting her to do everything, and I got kind of mad, but didn’t say anything, as she had agreed to help me find the ring, after all. I heard her clothes rustling as she bent down, then there was silence as she looked. The silence was interrupted abruptly as her phone rang. I tell you, I hate those things. They always interrupt everything. This time, however, I almost welcomed that break in the stony silence.

“What?” she answered, in almost the same tone she used when I interrupted her. Then, “Jarod.” I wondered who this Jarod was that he could turn her demanding tone into something both harder and softer at once. “No, actually, I came across an…unexpected delay,” she continued. “I’ll keep that in mind, when I finally find your latest do-gooder job.” I was becoming more and more curious by the minute, listening to this one-sided conversation. All of the sudden, when I was leaning farther out of my chair to see if I could catch what the other person was saying, the woman said, “Miss Parker, and don’t you forget it.” Then, in a very annoyed tone of voice, “He hung up, again. How surprising.”

I heard the cell phone beep as she turned it off, then, “So, where’s this pesky ring?”

I couldn’t believe she remembered my ring through all the conversation. I smiled, thinking that she might not be so bad after all.

There were a few more moments of silence, then a triumphant, “Found it!”

She handed me the ring, and I said, “Thank you so much, my husband gave me this ring for our anniversary. It means a lot to me.”

She just said, “You’re welcome.” I heard the footsteps again, but called after her, “Miss Parker? Who was that on the phone, anyway?”

A pause, then, “I’m not exactly sure, myself.”

I kept on, “I you don’t mind me asking, are you having a fight with your friend?”

She laughed. It was an unusual sound, and I got the feeling that she didn’t laugh much. “No, we’re not even really friends, anymore.” Toward the end of her sentence, her voice became really sad, as if an unpleasant memory had surfaced.

My face was hot, and I apologized, “I am sorry, it just seemed…”

“Don’t apologize for what you can’t change,” she said quickly, and I heard her footsteps walking away.

I’ll always remember that because of her voice as she spoke the last sentence. On the surface, it seemed she was just giving me an out, but it was as if I had also heard her saying the words many times before, with great sadness in her voice.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they are the property of many people besides me, including NBC and MGM entertainment. This was written without permission, but please do not sue me, as I am making no profit, and only love the idea.
Author's note: From all the positive response I received from the first one, I decided to write another. Hopefully another good one. So either enjoy...or not.

Ordinary Encounters II
Jarod
By Spectra

"Excuse me, Miss, could I sit here?"

"It's Mrs., and sure, do whatever suits you." I added underneath my breath, "everyone else does."

"What was that?" he asked, sitting down.

I looked up at him. "Oh, I'm sure you don't want to be bothered." He really was handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and that look...something about it was bothering me. Haunting, I guess you'd say. Or haunted. So he had demons of his own. I said, "It's just that everything in my life appears to be falling apart."

"I'm sorry." One look into his eyes and I knew he truly was sorry. Surprised at myself, I said, "It's my family."

The reaction I got surprised me. The man, who had only met me two minutes ago suddenly sat up, and became more interested in every word I said. It was actually kind of strange, considering we were total strangers, sitting in a subway beneath one of the largest cities in the world. However, it wasn't a bad kind of attention, just...the look in his eyes got so painful I had to look away.

He noticed, and said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I think he thought I was looking away because I didn't know whether or not I wanted to go on. And I didn't know, either, but I said, "My husband had an affair with one of his co-workers, and we have to settle on the custody of the kids, but he's got the kids until we go to court."

Again, his reaction surprised me, because at this he withdrew and didn't speak. He seemed to focus inward, and his eyes squeezed shut, as if he were trying to get rid of a memory.
Hesitantly, I said, "I'm sorry, I knew I shouldn't have said anything, but it's just, no one really seems to understand how I feel, and I wanted to tell someone."

Suddenly he spoke, "You feel alone, confused, angry, sad, vulnerable, and betrayed." I wondered at this man who knew exactly what I was thinking, and said, "how did you know? Have you gone through divorce, too?"

He smiled thinly. "No, but my family...wasn't too close when I was growing up. A lot of lies were told to me by people I trusted, and they betrayed that trust." He fell silent again.

I sat silently for a minute or two, then said, "I didn't mean to gripe, but, Michael and I seemed so happy. And then, to find out like I did, it just was devastating. And the kids don't understand, they think that we don't love them, but it wasn't their fault."

He interrupted me. "How'd he even get temporary custody?"

I laughed bitterly. "He had a better, more expensive lawyer who used the fact that I'd been an alcoholic to create a story with my nearly-ex-husband as the victim. But I haven't touched the stuff in six years, not since I was pregnant with Alex! They made it look like I had been buying alcohol secretly, and the judge bought it."

He leaned forward again. "What's your name? I'll try to help."

I laughed again, "What are you? Some kind of police officer?"

"No, but I am a lawyer." I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but when I asked him, he said nothing. I'm still not convinced, though, because it sounded a lot like, "sort-of." That made me nervous, but I gave him my name anyway. I was pretty sure he could be trusted. Of course, my judgement in character isn't the greatest, as illustrated by my choice for a husband, but this man, he was so straightforward, I was sure of him, at least.

"Anne Gordon. That is, until the divorce is finalized. I'm not sure whether I'm keeping the name or not." I smile ruefully. "And your name is...?"

"Jarod," he said, taking my hand. "Don't worry, we'll get your kids back."

And I believed him.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, they are the property of many people besides me, including NBC and MGM entertainment. This was written without permission, but please do not sue me, as I am making no profit, and only love the idea.
Author's note: I'm in a really hyper mood today...it explains the disclaimer...and a few other things...although I suppose that that might just be because I'm insane...anyway, I finally got back on the net to post this, hope everyone likes is, feedback is certainly appreciated...

Ordinary Encounters III
Broots
By Spectra


It was a perfectly ordinary day, in which I was merely trying to make it through until five o'clock, which is when I get to go home. It was 4:59 on the dot, and I was impatiently waiting for Debbie's father, Mr. Broots, to come and pick her up. Debbie looked as if she'd cry at any moment. And, well, maybe I better start at the real beginning.

Debbie has been somewhat of a problem since the first day she walked into my classroom. Okay, to be fair, it's not her fault. It's her father's. Oh, he's a nice guy, and shows up at most of the teacher parent conferences, and is very devoted to his daughter. But you wouldn't know it if you just saw how often he disappoints Debbie. I know he tries, but you know how they say that trying isn't quite enough? Well, that's how this is. When he's around, he's the best father anyone could ever ask for. But he travels a lot for his job, which I'm still not sure exactly what he does, and I don't think Debbie knows either. I'm not sure if Broots himself knows. That's beside the point. Whatever he does, his boss (a woman, I found out from Debbie, who admires her for some reason or another) is always dragging him halfway across the country and back again. All I know is that he doesn't ever really know where he's going, or how long he'll be gone, more than five minutes ahead of time. However, her dad took her to France for her birthday last year, so Debbie is either the luckiest girl in the world, or the least lucky. She never knows where her dad is, and that creates some problems, like this one.

So we were standing around, waiting by the door, and Debbie was looking more and more like she was going to cry. Sighing, I told her, "If your dad doesn't show within five more minutes, I will take you home myself."

She brightened a little at this, although she was still depressed at her dad not being there. We waited the five minutes I had promised, and then I told her to get her stuff. We walked to my car, and I pulled out my keys, when this car, a black, very expensive, car very nearly screeches into the parking lot, and stops in the spot next to mine. Debbie literally squealed, and hopped out of my back seat.

Out of the back of the car I saw Broots step out, and Debbie throw herself into his arms. I walked over slowly, even more slowly when I saw the woman who got out from behind the driver's seat. She was tall, and beautiful, although she looked tired, frustrated, and sad. Broots walked over to me, still holding his daughter's hand, and shook my hand.

"I'm so very sorry, Miss Kimball, but our plane was delayed, and we just couldn't make it back in time," he managed to stutter out, glancing rather nervously at the woman. As I glanced her way, I noticed that one other person had also gotten out of the car. Another man, who looked about the same age as the woman, and who looked like her, too.

"It's alright, Mr. Broots, I was just going to take her home," I stated, with what I am sure was a disapproving look on my face.

Broots turned toward Debbie, "I'm so sorry honey, you know that I would have been here sooner if I could have been, right?" Debbie nodded.

"If we've got the girl, can we get going?" remarked the younger man.

I didn't like him. I decided that after that remark, although I hadn't liked him, not really, from the moment I saw him. I decided to risk their anger, just to spite this man because he had annoyed me by being late in the first place, and spoke up. "Actually, I did have something that I wanted you to see," I rushed on, ignoring the angry look from both the young man and the woman. "It's kind of important, and since you are here..." I trailed off. Broots was already exchanging a pleading look with the woman.

For the first time since they had arrived, she spoke up, "Oh fine, but make it quick. I'd like to get home sometime this century." It was funny, really, she sounded so much like I had just minutes before, but she must have had some soft spot inside her heart, because she was obviously the leader, and she had been the one who drove here like a maniac, presumably to be on time.

Anyway, I unlocked the door, and we walked back to my classroom, in which time I was wondering how in the world I would explain all this to the angry people behind me. I frantically searched my mind for something that would explain my need to speak with Broots. Thankfully, Debbie supplied the means.

"Miss Kimball? Do want me to get the permission slip from my bag?" She was grinning at me like the cat who had eaten the canary, obviously enjoying the show. Oh, she was clever, and she knew it, too. She not only saved me from totally losing any self-respect I had left, but she would also get to go on the field trip the next day. It seemed that Broots had forgotten to sign it yesterday, and Debbie, without it, would have had to stay at school while the others went to the Science Museum. I mouthed a thank you at her, and she grinned. I think the woman noticed, and almost smiled, like she knew I had done this only to spite the man with her.

"No, Debbie, I have an extra right here," I finally managed to creak out of my mouth.

"Miss Parker, do you want to see my desk?" I was astonished at Debbie for being so forward with the woman. Miss Parker, contrary to what I had thought she would do, said, "Sure, why not?" and walked over to Debbie's desk in the second row. I must have gaped at her, because Broots said,

"Miss Parker adores Debbie. Don't think about it too much, you'll only be more confused." I was even more astonished to see him also smiling, until the other guy, the one I didn't like said, "Broots..." in a warning tone. He then stuttered, "W-what did you want again?"

I handed him the permission slip. "Debbie really wanted to go, and when she didn't have it this morning I was surprised..."

He signed it, first reading it over, which made me smile, few parents actually read what I send home and it was really nice to see this man do so, even with these strange people breathing down his back. He spoke again, "I'm really sorry about all this, these last couple of days have been...hectic."

I caught part of a mumble from both of my visitors, "You got that right." Realizing they had said the same thing they glared at each other.

The man laughed, "Well, sis, it looks like the twin side is finally rearing its ugly head."

Miss Parker snapped back, "The key word, Lyle, being "ugly.""

I almost burst out laughing. If it hadn't been so tense in the rooms, I probably would have. That one exchange made me doubt that there ever was camaraderie between them, but it was so funny, because they seemed like the kind of people who wouldn't let anything phase them at all, and yet they were behaving like five-year-old siblings. Anyway, Broots apparently didn't see anything funny in it, and he merely said, "We really should be going. Thank you again, Miss Kimball."

They left. When they got to their car, Miss Parker and Lyle fought over who would get to drive. Broots didn't even try, he just climbed into the back seat with Debbie. When I was sure they were gone, I collapsed into my chair, puzzling over the whole encounter from beginning to finish. When I thought about Miss Parker acquiescing to Debbie and the fight between Miss Parker and her brother (I was pretty sure of the fact that he was her brother) I couldn't contain it any longer. Even though it really wasn't all that funny, I laughed until I saw what time it was, and quickly gathered my stuff, not forgetting Debbie's hard-earned permission slip, and drove home. It will forever remain as one of the strangest encounters I have ever had.