Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. Blah, blah, blah, yea, yea just get on with it. No money has been involved here and no infringement is intended.


Author's Note - Just a reminder for those of you who may not remember, the character of Damon referred to here is the evil blonde assassin who chases Broots in the episode "Betrayal." Damon once betrayed Jarod's trust, killed a friend of Jarod's and basically was responsible for Jarod's deciding to run away in the first place. Also, there are IOTH spoilers here. - Enjoy!




One Good Turn Part 1



Snow and Ice

By Phenyx



Jarod pulled the quilted collar of his coat up around his ears as he trudged through the snow. Although the coat was made to insulate and conserve body warmth, Jarod's action didn't help much. The last few days had been miserably cold here in the northeastern tip of Ohio. Big fat flakes of snow had been falling steadily all day and the wind blew the white fluff into drifts that made walking difficult.


Jarod had been working for the state's wildlife department for the past month. He set out salt licks and performed rough counts of the deer population in this area. It was a solitary type of assignment, but Jarod had needed time to himself after his adventure on the Island of Carthis and this had seemed like a good idea at the time.


Even now, cold and tired as he was, Jarod couldn't deny the peaceful tranquility that he found in this pretend. He looked around. The rural forested area that surrounded him carried that heavy, magical silence that can only be caused by a foot of snow. The snowstorm had come quickly. The dirty brown forest, dead for the winter, had transformed overnight into a white crystalline covered world of wonder. Postcard perfect in the stillness, the only sounds were the mournful sighs of tree branches groaning under the weight of ice and snow.


This time alone had been good for him. The solitude had given Jarod the opportunity to lick his wounds. He had nursed his pride, battered by Parker's cruel rejection. Jarod had mentally rehashed each word, every conversation he'd shared with Parker while in Ireland. The hurt and sorrow he had felt when they had last spoken was gone now. Acceptance and understanding had taken their place.


Jarod understood Parker's reluctance to flee. Deep down, Parker knew that The Centre would never let her go, even if she did succeed in capturing him. But part of her still held out hope that the life she led was not a complete lie. Jarod knew that Parker was clinging desperately to that slender thread of hope. Everything she had ever believed about her life and her family depended upon The Centre's tapestry of deception. Parker wasn't ready to abandon the image she held of her own life. Not yet.


Jarod couldn't blame Parker for her self-delusion. How long had Jarod suspected that his sims were being misused? Long before Damon had come along and so blatantly demonstrated his fears, Jarod had voiced concerns about his work. Even as a boy, Jarod felt uncomfortable about certain simulations and had mentioned possible abuses to Sydney. When had those vague fears turned into serious suspicions?


For years Jarod had lived as Parker was now. Fully cognizant of the horrible transgressions occurring around him, he too had pushed his doubts into a dark recess in his soul in an attempt to ignore them. Turning your back on the only life you've ever known is a difficult thing to do. It had required that terrible experience with Damon to push Jarod out of his state of denial and finally force him into action.


Jarod couldn't force Parker to see the reality around her. She would have to meet her own Damon, so to speak. That final straw would eventually come for Miss Parker. If she survived, she too would finally be forced to act. Jarod could only hope that he would be able to help, that she would allow him to help, when that time came.


He was worried about her. The one thing Jarod had learned on the island that he had not been able to overcome was the fact that he was now, probably always had been, irrevocably connected to Miss Parker on a deep emotional level. The image he carried of her in his mind was no longer a cigarette smoking, gun toting, leather-clad bitch. Jarod's mental image of Parker was now a wide-eyed co-conspirator, a partner, a friend.


The moment in time that tormented Jarod’s dreams was not the guiltily erotic span of seconds when he had watched Parker changing her clothes nor was it the breathless heartbeat when their lips had nearly touched. Instead, Jarod carried in his heart the brilliant smile of triumph she had given him when a tiny key opened the box they had found hidden beneath the alter. His mind replayed for him again and again the moment on the airplane when, surrounded by her family and Triumvirate goons, she had looked to Jarod for direction. It had been a moment of doubt, no more than a glance, but Jarod had felt her need. He had given Parker a fraction of a nod, and though no one else in the room had noticed the communication between them, it had been the reassurance that she needed.


Parker of course, probably had no recollection of these moments that Jarod held so dear. To her, the island of Carthis brought only memories of a dead father who wasn't her father and a cruel taskmaster who was. Jarod knew that his feelings were the least of Parker's concerns. She had a false father to grieve for. Jarod sighed sadly as he tried to fathom what turmoil she must be going through.


Readjusting the pack on his back, Jarod marched on through the snow. His jeep was parked less than half a mile from here at the end of a long access road through the preserve. It was time to move on. Jarod was finished counting deer. And frankly, though the current landscape was beautiful, he was tired of being cold and wet. The pristine whiteness of the snow would not last. Within a few days, the temperature would warm up and the twelve inches of powder would turn into a quagmire of slush.


The people who lived in this area had a saying 'If you don't like the weather, just wait a few days and it will change.'


Jarod had found the adage to be true. Just after he had arrived, there had been a day that began warm and sunny. Jarod had started his hike in short sleeves and had quickly worked up a sweat. But by mid afternoon, icy rain had turned to sleet and hail had pelted bruises onto Jarod's back. By the time Jarod had found his way out of the wildlife preserve and back to his rented apartment, snow and ice had made driving hazardous.


Jarod's next destination would be some place warm, he decided. Florida, perhaps. Or maybe Hawaii or the Caribbean islands. He would go some where with a beach and lie on the sand for a day or two until he got bored. Jarod crested a hill and carefully began to make his way into a gully. From here he could see his snow-dusted jeep parked several hundred yards away on the opposite side of a small river.


Little wider than a large creek, the water here was deceptively deep. Ice had formed in some places but the current beneath kept the layers thin. It was a great place to fish in the summer time, with large boulders conveniently located at the water's edge. Because the area was such a draw for fishermen, a small paved road had been put in to allow easier access. A nice little walking trail was also in place, though it was never used at this time of year. A sturdy wooden bridge crossed the water along that walking trail and it was this bridge that Jarod now used to reach his automobile.


Jarod was halfway across the bridge when he looked down at his feet and noticed that his footprints were not the only ones desecrating the new fallen snow. Several sets of boots had recently crossed the bridge to the side of the river that Jarod had just left.


For a moment, Jarod stopped and listened carefully. He heard nothing and yet his chest constricted with sudden anxiety. Quickening his pace, Jarod hurried across the rest of the bridge and rushed toward his jeep. As his angle in relation to the automobile changed, he could see two other cars parked at angles behind his jeep. Both were dark luxury models often driven by Centre personnel.


Jarod saw them before they saw him. Wading through the snow on the opposite river bank, Jarod could easily see Parker, Sydney, Broots, Lyle and three stocky sweepers, one of which was probably Sam. Jarod glanced toward his jeep, still several hundred yards away. His pursuers were slightly further up stream than Jarod. A quick estimate of everyone's location and Jarod's face broke out into a cocky grin.


"Lucky bastard," Jarod chuckled to himself. There was no way that his pursuers could run a hundred yards upstream to the bridge, cross the river and get to the cars before Jarod could dash the short distance to his vehicle and escape. He was going to get away again. Dumb luck was going to get him out of it this time.


As Jarod hurried toward the cars, he watched the group on the other bank. They were obviously struggling in the deep snow and searching for him in the opposite direction. They had yet to notice Jarod. Pure mischievousness bubbled up in Jarod and he called across the water.


"Sydney! " Jarod raised a hand and waved at the stunned little crowd.


"Jarod!" Parker yelled, rage growling in her voice.


Still grinning, Jarod reached down and scooped up a hand full of snow. He pressed the snow into a tight ball, drew back one arm and hurled the snowball across the river as hard as he could. It plopped onto the ice less than ten feet from where Parker stood. The raw fury visible on Parker's face urged Jarod to tease her even more.


Shrugging the backpack off his shoulders, Jarod bent and picked up more snow. The second snowball was slightly larger and flew much further. Though Lyle and the sweepers had already started running for the bridge, Parker and Sydney hadn't moved. As a result, this ball of snow hit Parker squarely in the chest and puffed into a shower of flakes in her face.


Giggling delightedly, Jarod turned and started to run toward his jeep.


It was Broots' voice that made Jarod glance back over his shoulder.


"Miss Parker," the bald little man called. "Wait!"


The smile slid from Jarod's face and he stopped in his tracks at what he saw. Parker was clambering down the embankment straight toward the water. Jarod could see that she intended to run straight at him, across the frozen river itself.


"Parker!" Jarod cried as she slid onto the ice. "Don't!"


The stubborn woman ignored him. Parker managed to get almost half way across the expanse before there was a sickeningly loud crackle of sound and Parker abruptly vanished.


Jarod sprinted downstream, pulling rope from his pack as he ran. Discarding the backpack, Jarod tied a knot around his waist and made a large loop with the other end of the rope. At the same time, he calculated depth and current versus the weight currently being dragged along beneath the icy surface. Moving faster than he ever thought he could, Jarod estimated where Parker would be and tossing the looped end of rope around a nearby tree trunk, he slid onto the ice like a baseball player stealing home.


For a minute, the ice held and Jarod grimly realized that he had nothing with which to hit the solid surface. Bringing one leg up, Jarod kicked frantically at the ice with the heel of his boot, feeling panic rise as precious moments slipped by. Then he felt a jerking sensation and he began to sink.


Though Jarod knew the water would be cold, he wasn't prepared for the breath stealing frigidity of the liquid that sucked him under. Seeping through his clothes in a matter of seconds, the freezing water clawed at him like a malicious creature. Jarod felt the current pull at him and for a dizzying few moments he lost his sense of direction. His forehead impacted sharply against the rocky bottom, conveniently reassessing his location.


Jarod tried to look around but the water was dark and gloomy. As the rope pulled tight at his waist, Jarod realized he'd been swept downstream to the limits of his lifeline. The current was faster than he'd anticipated. Parker may have already passed him.


Jarod's chest began to ache painfully at the lack of air. He had in the past been able to hold his breath for two minutes or more. But submersed in ice-cold water, the human body shuts down rapidly. Jarod knew he didn't have much time. Flailing his arms, Jarod frantically searched the immediate area. His mind and heart and lungs all cried out painfully.


A silky tendril slid passed Jarod's frozen fingertips so softly that he nearly missed it. Snatching at a shadow, Jarod forced his fingers to move. Hands tangled in Parker's hair, Jarod pulled her toward him. Grasping desperately at the slick rope, Jarod hauled himself and a limp Parker up the length of twisted hemp. Lungs near bursting, Jarod pulled on the line with a hand he could no longer feel.


In seemed like hours went by as Jarod inched his way through the water. Jarod sensed, rather than felt, the rock beneath his feet. Moving toward it, Jarod managed to find himself standing on the river bottom with his shoulders pressed against the icy surface of the water. With a desperate lunge, Jarod broke through the ice and gasped in a lungful of air.


Dragging Parker's motionless body with him, Jarod stumbled toward the shore. When the rope pulled tightly at his waist again, he realized that he was on the other side of the river from where he had gone in. He found himself tied to the opposite shore. With frozen fingers, he pried the rope from his waist so that he could climb out of the water and set Parker delicately on the ground beside him.


Parker wasn't breathing. Her skin was bleached white except for her lips, which were a gruesome shade of blue.


Jarod began to perform CPR. He tilted Parker's head back and after checking her airway, Jarod put his lips to hers and breathed for her. If Jarod's own body had not been drained of its warmth, the icy chill of Parker's flesh would have frightened him. But as it was, Jarod's could not see the blue tinge of his own lips or the ghostly pale color of his skin. His extremities were numb but Jarod had no concept of his own condition. His thoughts centered entirely on the lifeless form beneath him.


Seconds ticked into minutes in Jarod's mind as he counted breaths and chest compressions. His murmured counting became a mantra of prayer.


"Please breathe." Jarod whispered between breaths. "Please, oh please, oh please."


The world narrowed into a tight frame where nothing else existed for Jarod. There was only the two of them, the breathing, the counting and the mumbled prayer. "Oh please, please breath."


Rough hands grabbed Jarod's arms and began dragging him away from Parker's body. But he raged against the hands, thrashing out and shoving them away. Fury gave Jarod strength and he viciously knocked his captors away, clawed across the ground to Parker's side and began the breaths again.


In a burst of frustration and helpless anger, Jarod suddenly shouted, "Damn you I said breathe!" He slapped Parker's face. "Just once you will do as I tell you! Breathe!"


Jarod put his lips to hers and forced another lungful of air into Parker's body. With a ghastly retching sound, water abruptly gurgled from Parker's lips. She coughed, retched again and then gasped in a lungful of air on her own.


The rough hands were back, pulling Jarod away, shoving him to the ground. Jarod realized he was shivering uncontrollably and he still couldn't feel his fingers. He heard the metallic click of handcuffs around his wrists. But none of that mattered to Jarod.


Parker was alive, she was breathing.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 2


A Missing Pretender



By Phenyx



Miss Parker strode down the hallway. Arms crossed and heels clicking a sharp staccato through the corridor, Parker's glare discouraged anyone who might be foolish enough to stop her progress. She'd been back at work for a week now and no one aside from Sydney had been reckless enough to inquire about her health.


To the casual observer, Miss Parker seemed to have no lasting signs of her ordeal in the river. She'd spent a couple of days in a local hospital but had quickly returned to Delaware. Within forty-eight hours she'd been admitted again when fluid had started collecting in her lungs and she had developed a moderate case of pneumonia. Even now her doctor's had told her to take it easy, give herself time to heal. As a result, Parker was working shortened hours and spent all of her spare time sleeping.


But Sydney alone knew of Parker's semi-invalid status. Only someone who knew her very well would recognize the weary lines of fatigue around her eyes. Parker's sharp tongue and vile temper kept others from noticing that anything was amiss.


Parker had few recollections of that day in Ohio. She could remember her sudden fury at knowing Jarod would escape her again. She remembered starting across the ice. The rest was a blur. There were vague feelings of bone chilling cold and a far away sensation of panic. More than a month later, Parker still had a constant sensation of cold. She just could not shake the chill in her bones.


Of Jarod and his current status, Parker knew nothing. She and her team had been searching The Centre mainframe for some sign of him but they had found no trace. Parker was becoming very agitated about it.


She dreamed about him at night. Parker's dreams were disturbing, fractured images of Jarod. In her dream, Jarod's face was as pale as death and his lips were tinged an eerily corpse-like shade of blue. Blood ran down his face in rivulets from a cut on his forehead and his eyes were wild and filled with panic.


For the past month, the dream image of Jarod had been silently yelling at her. Parker could see his lips and mouth moving and she knew he was saying something but she had not been able to understand him. Parker sensed that what Jarod was trying to tell her was incredibly important but she couldn't comprehend his words. Until last night.


In last night's dream, Jarod's pale, blood streaked face had appeared to her again. Only this time, with a rush of sound like waves breaking on the rocks, Jarod's voice had screamed at Parker loud and clear.


"Just once you will do as I tell you!" Jarod yelled at her in the dream.


As Parker gasped and surged toward consciousness, Jarod's voice had followed her into wakefulness, "Please, oh please, oh please."


The murmured chant seemed to hang in the darkness as Parker woke up. The dream had seemed so real that for a moment, Parker had looked around the room, expecting to see the pretender at her bedside.


The nightly visions of Jarod urged Parker to even greater zeal in her search for him during the day. The escalation of the intensity of her nightmare caused Parker an increased sense of urgency. She felt a deep need to find Jarod. And she needed to find him soon.


Broots seemed sure that Jarod had not been transferred. A transfer of such importance would have left a trail in the system somewhere. But they had found nothing.


Lyle was irritatingly tight-lipped and refused to reveal any knowledge of Jarod's whereabouts. Parker knew that Lyle had Jarod well hidden somewhere within The Centre. She suspected that Jarod was being moved regularly to prevent her from locating him.


Raines of course had disregarded Parker's requests to see the pretender. The wheezing ghoul had offered Parker a handful of thinly veiled threats regarding her obedience and had placed her on a new assignment. Parker had blatantly disregarded both the threats and the new project. Eventually she would need to do something. Broots was becoming visibly more anxious with each passing day and even Sydney was beginning to have that hunched, hunted look to him as he hurried through the halls.


Life at The Centre was far more dangerous now than it had been in the past.


With a huff of impatience, Parker burst through the doors of her office to find Broots and Sydney waiting for her. She glanced meaningfully at Broots with an unspoken question in her eyes.


Broots nodded. "I swept the room again. I found another listening device and flushed it down the toilet."


Parker sighed. "We are finding these things too easily. Either they are being sloppy or we aren't finding everything."


"Broots checked the room three times, Miss Parker." Sydney reassured her. "He was very careful."


"Especially since I've found these." Broots whispered as he held up two silver disks.


A wicked grin broke out across Parker's face. "You got them." She declared.


"I've made a habit of stealing DSA's from Mr. Raines." Broots said nervously. "Swiping two from Lyle wasn't too hard."


Parker cocked her head at him. "Why, Broots, you old dog, when did you grow a pair?"


Broots tried to laugh but the nervous hiccup came out sounding more like a cackle. Moving in fits and jerks of anxiety, Broots moved to the desk and placed the first disk into the DSA player.


"I can't vouch for the quality of the image." He said. "I made copies of the original disks so that Lyle wouldn't miss them. I made them pretty quickly so there may be a little degradation in the picture."


"As long as you got some valid information on Jarod," Parker said sharply. "I'm not looking to sell tickets."


"I got something, all right." Broots said. "These disks are the entire visual recording on him since he was brought in a month ago."


"We should be able to figure out where they are holding him." Sydney chipped in.


Parker nodded grimly. "Can we see where he is today?"


Broots activated the disk and punched in the time frame they were looking for, "This was recorded early this morning." The technician said.


An image of a darkened room appeared on screen. Cinder block walls enclosed a barred cell within the tiny space. The room was bare except for a thin mattress tossed on the ground near a cement wall. Huddled in a ball on the mattress lay a wrinkled bundle of rags. With a muffled groan, the mound moved slightly and then rolled over.


Jarod was curled tightly around himself, hugging his knees to his chest while he slept fitfully. His face was dirty and unshaven. Bruises and dried blood mottled his cheeks and his jaw. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes and he whimpered pitifully for a moment before he sighed heavily and fell back into a deep sleep.


Parker sighed with relief. At least he was alive. Jarod looked like hell but at least Parker could now prove to herself that he was alive.


Pointing at the screen, she looked at Broots and demanded, "I want you to screen this recording every which way you can possibly image. I want to know where he is."


Broots nodded and slid into her chair as Parker vacated it.


The next few hours passed slowly. Broots calculated the dimensions of the room visible on the DSA and painstakingly narrowed down possibilities on a detailed blueprint of the facility. Parker spent most of the time pacing the office in irritation.


Long after the regular workday had ended, Broots abruptly cried out, "Bingo!" He grinned. "I've got him."


"Where?" Parker hissed as she and Sydney both hurried to the technician's side.


"SL-20." Broots said, typing frantically at his keyboard. "I should be able to tap into the surveillance system and pick up a real time image."


With a few expert manipulations at Broots' computer, an image appeared on the monitor. The room itself was the same one from the earlier recording but the setting had changed slightly. In the middle of the area sat a small table and a wooden chair. On the table was a metal tray like the kind you find in a cafeteria or a mess hall. An unidentifiable mottled brown substance could be seen on the tray.


Lounging nonchalantly against one wall, arms crossed lazily, was Lyle with an amused smirk on his face. In the opposite corner, pressed against the wall as though trying to melt into the concrete was Jarod, shivering miserably.


"Damn." Parker whispered. With Lyle in the room, it would be impossible to go to Jarod right now.


Parker frowned. There was something odd about Jarod's behavior. He wasn't acting right.


"He looks ill." Broots said as if he could read Miss Parker's thoughts.


Jarod's arms were wrapped tightly around his body, hugging himself. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his skin. Deep circles under his eyes gave Jarod a gaunt, sunken look. His eyes were wild and angry.


"Give it to me." Jarod growled in a raspy hoarse voice.


Lyle shrugged. "Do as you are told, Jarod. Then you will get your reward."


Jarod sighed in frustration and ran his shaking hands through the sweat damp hair on his head.


"Jarod," Lyle said sweetly. "You haven't eaten in days. I don't understand your hesitation in this. It is perfectly good beef stew. I finally convinced Raines that you didn't need that green slop." A wicked smile spread across Lyle's face. "You should be thanking me, Jarod."


Jarod shot the other man a furious look. "Go to Hell." He growled.


"Jarod, Jarod, Jarod." Lyle sighed. "What have I done to deserve your anger? I get you good food. I bring a table and chair so you can regain a little dignity. Why do you treat me this way?"


"You know why." Jarod responded with a hiss.


Lyle shook his head in a long-suffering gesture of futility. "I'm really trying, Jarod. I'm trying to put my sister's death behind me. You didn't mean to kill her, I know that. But the fact is, you were responsible for the accident. Am I holding that against you? No. Am I punishing you for killing her? No." Lyle shrugged. "I am offering you a truce, Jarod. Just eat the stew."


The trio watching the monitor gasped as they realized what a terrible lie Jarod was being told.


While Lyle spoke, Jarod's shaking became more pronounced and he grimaced in pain. His lower lip trembled when Jarod whispered, "Lyle, I need it." He said miserably.


"Yes." Lyle purred sadly. "I know you do. Do as you are told and I'll give it to you."


Jarod slid miserably down the wall and into a crouch. Clutching his middle, Jarod heaved a broken sigh and groaned.


Lyle grinned, sensing that victory was near. "You need to eat, Jarod." He said.


Glaring up at his tormentor, Jarod shot Lyle a look of pure hatred. Pulling himself up slowly, Jarod staggered across the cell to the table. Without bothering to sit, Jarod grabbed up a spoon and started shoveling the food into his mouth. Swallowing huge mouthfuls, barely stopping to chew anything, Jarod gulped down the contents of the tray.


Finishing minutes later, Jarod stood unsteadily beside the vacant chair and looked at Lyle expectantly.


"Drink your milk." Lyle's voice lilted condescendingly. He smiled evilly as Jarod followed his instructions.


"Now." Jarod hissed through clenched teeth.


Lyle nodded and pushed away from the wall without comment. Jarod sank into the chair, eager anticipation obvious on his face.


Parker watched the monitor in stunned horror as Jarod shoved his shirtsleeve up one arm. Red dots speckled the tender flesh of the pretender's inner arm. Lyle pulled a rubber tourniquet out of one pocket and a syringe from the other. With a smooth skill born of repetition, Lyle quickly wrapped Jarod's arm, found a vein and slid the needle into the soft tissue.


Jarod's shuddering stopped and his eyelids began to flutter almost immediately. His head lolled back and his breathing became deep and regular as the drug took effect.


Lyle patted the top of Jarod's head scornfully. "Good boy, Jarod." He said with a sneer.


As Lyle began to leave the room, Jarod hauled himself out of the chair to weave drunkenly to the edge of his cell. Grasping the bars with one hand, Jarod called to the other man.


"Lyle." Jarod's voice slurred.


When Lyle turned, Jarod flashed him a crooked smile of malicious triumph. A moment later, Jarod leaned over, pushed one finger into the back of his throat and vomited the contents of his stomach into a vile sludge at Lyle's feet.


Jarod's contemptuous act of defiance infuriated Mr. Lyle. His reaction was lightening quick and coldly vicious. The first punch knocked Jarod to his knees. After the second contact, Jarod lay in a motionless pile on the floor. Lyle kicked Jarod furiously again and again, blind rage clearly written across his face.


Minutes passed before Lyle regained control of his temper. Sighing in frustration, Lyle shook his head at the moaning creature on the floor. Straightening his tie, Lyle called to someone outside of the room. Two large men that Parker did not recognize lumbered in.


"Get him out of here," Lyle growled. "And get an orderly to clean up this mess."


With a nod, the sweepers grabbed Jarod beneath the arms and half dragged, half carried the unconscious pretender out the door.


"Where," Parker's voice came out as a whisper. The images she had just witnessed on the monitor had affected her deeply. She was forced to clear her throat before she could continue. "Where are they taking him?" she asked.


Broots, shaken and wide-eyed, shook his head. "I don't know." He said softly.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 3


DSA

By Phenyx



Miss Parker propped a pillow under one arm and tucked a quilted throw blanket around her legs. Curling her hands around a cup of hot herbal tea, she made herself comfortable on the couch in her living room. She settled in with the DSA player beside her, intent on viewing the two disks that Broots had found earlier.


After the three of them had watched the appalling scene on the monitor at The Centre, Parker, Sydney and Broots had stared at each other in numb disbelief. Several minutes had passed before the shock wore off and the frustration set in. After searching so diligently, they had finally found Jarod's location, only to have Lyle move him again. At a loss for what they should do next, Parker had finally decided to let Broots resume the search while she did her best to stay out of his way.


Parker was troubled by Jarod's obvious dependence on the narcotic supplied by Lyle. The track marks she had seen on Jarod's forearm indicated frequent injections. She wondered briefly what medication had been in the syringe. Perhaps she could learn more as she went through the recordings made over the past month.


Sighing heavily, Parker took a sip from her cup, slid the first disk into the slot and began playing the images on the screen.


The text visible in the bottom left hand corner of the screen indicated that these first images had been taken the same day that Parker had fallen through the ice. The room was dark and empty for several minutes before the door suddenly swung open and Jarod was shoved roughly inside.


Jarod looked ragged and wrinkled. He was wearing regular street clothes that looked as though they were still wet. Dried blood was visible on one side of his face, though an attempt to clean most of it away seemed to have been made. An adhesive bandage was pasted on his forehead, holding together a nasty cut yellow with iodine.


Jarod's face was pale and he was shivering. His teeth chattered with cold. Parker tried to suppress a shudder and pulled her warm cup closer to her chest. She pitied Jarod, though she knew that the image she watched was more than a month old. Parker had been rushed to a hospital that day. Suffering from hypothermia, Parker had been stripped of her icy wet clothes and an entire medical team had worked to warm her.


It looked as though Jarod hadn't been given so much as a dry towel.


Upon entering the tiny room, Jarod surveyed his surroundings with a glance. The contents were sparse. The only furnishings in the space were a cot and a small end table. Jarod looked at the table curiously for a moment. Parker smirked as she realized he was thinking of ways to use it as a means of escape.


Jarod then went quickly to the cot. The bare mattress was thin and worn so rather than lying on top of it, Jarod lifted the mattress, wrapped it around his body and lay down on the bare springs of the cot. Using the mattress as a blanket, Jarod curled into a tight ball in an effort to create some warmth. Within moments, the weary pretender had fallen into a shivering and fitful sleep.


The next several hours' worth of recordings went by uneventfully. As a result, Parker forwarded through it quickly. After more than a day had passed, Raines and Lyle finally made an appearance along with the same two burly sweepers Parker had seen this afternoon. Jarod sprang from the bed as they entered and watched warily from the other side of the room.


Raines studied Jarod intently then, turning to the sweepers he gasped, "Do it." Turning slowly, Raines left the room.


Jarod valiantly took a swing at one of the larger men as they closed in on him. But the guards quickly over powered the smaller man. Parker watched in guilty fascination as Jarod's clothes were removed from his lean body. Lyle tossed the nude pretender a pile of institutional gray colored cotton.


"Put these on." Lyle said.


"No." Jarod growled.


Lyle crouched down in front of Jarod and grabbed a fistful of his hair. "Get dressed or stay naked," Lyle purred. "Makes no difference to me. You are the one who will be cold. No one else is going to see you."


Jarod pulled away from Lyle contemptuously. "Your sister might." Jarod said. "She has a way of showing up in places she is not supposed to be."


Lyle's eyebrow's shot up his forehead. "Didn't anyone tell you?" He asked.


"Tell me what?" Jarod frowned.


A cruel smile broke out on Lyle's face. "She went into shock on the way to the hospital." Lyle said. "She died in the ambulance."


Jarod gasped. Looking up at Lyle from his position on the floor, Jarod slowly shook his head. "You're lying." He whispered.


Lyle shrugged. "I don't care if you believe me, Jarod. It is really none of your damned business." After a quick motion to the sweepers, the two guards plucked Jarod from the ground and dragged him to the cot. Pinning him to the mattress, one sweeper held Jarod's arm while Lyle prepared a syringe.


When Jarod noticed the needle and the clear fluid within, he began to fight with renewed energy. But even kicking and screaming, Jarod couldn't prevent Lyle from giving him the injection. The narcotic began taking effect almost immediately. Jarod rolled away from the guards as they released their hold on his arms. Staggering and stumbling, Jarod tried to get as far away from the other men as possible.


Jarod's eyes were rolling around in his head when Lyle leaned toward him. "You'll have to tell me what you think of our newest invention." Lyle cooed. "We haven't got a street name for it yet, but it's sure to be quite a nice little revenue generator. Do you like it?"


Jarod gasped in response and huddled naked in the corner of the room as the drug took over his mind.


Lyle chuckled triumphantly and left the room with the sweepers.


According to the images on the DSA disks, the next several days passed with a ghastly routine. At regular intervals, Lyle would appear in the room with the two sweepers. The guards would hold Jarod down while Lyle forced the syringe into the helpless man's arm. Dumping Jarod in a corner, the other men would then leave until it was time for another injection.


Just as the drug began to wear off and Jarod started to show signs of coherence, Lyle would return with another shot. No food or water was brought to the room for days. By the end of the week, Jarod's struggling was markedly less forceful.


One day, about a week into Jarod's captivity, the routine abruptly changed. Jarod roused from his drug-induced stupor. Starved and neglected, it was obvious that Jarod had lost weight. For a time, he seemed disoriented, as though he had forgotten where he was. As the next several hours slipped by, Jarod began to exhibit anxious behavior. Even as weak as he was, he paced the length of the room like a caged animal.


Parker recognized the signs of withdrawal and was stunned at the speed with which the pretender had become addicted. "Bastards." She whispered to herself. "They've created a highly- addictive designer drug to sell on the streets."


What better way to ensure a steady stream of repeat customers? Get some poor sap hooked after just a few days and he'll sell his soul for his next fix.


As Parker watched the DSA, she could see that Jarod was in need of a fix himself and he knew it. His hands shook uncontrollably so Jarod tucked them under his arms in an effort to control the trembling. Perspiration broke out on his brow. Jarod sat on the cot and tried some deep breathing and relaxation techniques. But as time wore on, it became apparent that his body had come to depend upon the medication.


For a while, Jarod simply sat on the cot and rocked back and forth. When he curled into a tight ball, Parker realized that Jarod was in physical pain and suffering badly. As hours went by with no sign of Lyle, Jarod's condition worsened until he had been reduced to a trembling, sweaty creature huddled on the floor in the corner of his cell.


When Lyle did finally show up, he came into the room alone, carrying a meal on a tray. Dressed entirely in black, Lyle grinned at Jarod like an evil maitre d'.


"Good evening, Jarod." Lyle chirped, setting the tray down on the cot.


Jarod glared at Lyle. "Where have you been?" Jarod growled. He winced as the question fell from his lips. Jarod hadn't wanted Lyle to know how badly he was hurting.


Lyle shrugged. "I was at the funeral." He said. "There were so few mourners present. It would have been inappropriate for me to leave before the service ended. She was my sister after all."


Jarod's entire body stilled as though he'd been frozen in time. Parker could see the doubt run across Jarod's face as he struggled with what Lyle was telling him.


Lyle crouched on his haunches in front of Jarod and gazed at the pretender thoughtfully. Cocking his head curiously to one side, Lyle said, "Miss Parker was one of the many things that you and I have in common. Do you realize that, Jarod?"


Jarod closed his eyes and sighed. "What do you mean?" He asked, obviously wary of Lyle's answer.


"Well," Lyle said. "She hated us. She hated us both in a very unique and special way. Didn't she?"


Jarod nodded slowly in response.


Lyle grinned crookedly. "I know how much she hated me." Lyle said. "But she was still my big sister. She protected me in her own strange way, you know." Lyle leaned toward Jarod meaningfully. "Much the same way that she sometimes protected you."


Jarod's deep brown eyes stared forlornly at Lyle across the space that separated them. He said nothing.


"And we both loved to torment her!" Lyle chuckled, slapping one knee ruefully. "She was beautiful when she was angry." Lyle added with a sigh.


Jarod's lower lip began to quiver and he bit down on it hard, worrying the flesh between his teeth.


"It is ironic." Lyle said after a momentary pause. "She always used to say that you would be the death of her someday. I guess she was right." Puffing out a lungful of air, Lyle sighed heavily. "Enough reminiscing, what's done is done."


Lyle fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a syringe, holding it up so Jarod could see it. Rather than struggle against the injection, Jarod sat motionless while Lyle gave him the shot.


"Now wasn't that easy?" Lyle cooed as he stood. Retrieving the tray from where he had left it, Lyle placed the metal platter on the floor next to Jarod, nodded pleasantly at the pretender and then left the room.


Staring at the tray with eyes that were quickly glazing over, Jarod frowned at the goop that Lyle was trying to pass off as food. Moving slowly, Jarod carefully lifted a cup of water to his lips and drank it contents in long swallows. When he'd finished, he pressing the cup against his forehead, sighing at the coolness.


Jarod's eyes drifted shut and he began to tremble again. He talked to himself in a broken sigh. "It's not true, not true." Jarod whispered. "Keep it together, Jarod. Stay focused, try to stay focused."


He swallowed hard. "Not true, not true." Jarod mumbled again. "You would know. Somehow you would know." He shook his head woefully. "She can't be dead." He moaned.


Jarod lifted the metal tray from the floor and set it despondently in his lap. For a moment, all he did was stare at its vulgar contents. With a wail of rage, he suddenly threw the tray across the small room where it clattered loudly against the concrete wall. Sobbing brokenly, Jarod slid down the metal bars to lie on the floor. Hugging his knees to his chest, Jarod curled into a ball of misery and wept.


Parker heaved a sigh as she fought back tears. It pained her to know that Jarod might be blaming himself for her death. Without thinking, Parker placed her fingertips on the view screen and caressed the image of Jarod's face. "I'm here." She whispered. Parker abruptly dropped her hand to her lap as she realized that the recording she was watching had been made almost three weeks ago.


Stealing her emotions for what was to come, Parker forwarded the disk.


Jarod's next several days were punctuated by violent visits from Mr. Lyle and settings abruptly changed as Jarod was moved to another room. Harsh beatings and other torture preceded each injection for the next week. Lyle made no further mention of Miss Parker's supposed demise, nor did Jarod ask about it.


Jarod spent most of the time passed out or in a drug-induced stupor. Meals were brought to him with some regularity. Desperate for nourishment, Jarod had eventually been forced to eat the optimized nutritional supplement brought in on the trays.


Parker was well into the second disk when she saw something that shocked her into a senseless fury. The date on the screen indicated that the recording had been made just ten days ago. Jarod was dozing in his cell. He was sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the bars. His legs were pulled near his body and his forearms rested on his upright knees. Jarod's head hung forlornly, his chin nearly to his chest, as he slept.


The room itself was a much larger space, pitch dark near the edges. Four walls of metal bars formed an enclosed cell in the center of the room. This cell was empty aside from the solitary captive within. Parker could hear a heavy clanking sound from the darkness and footsteps echoed toward the illuminated center of the room.


Two figures stopped just at the edges of the screen. Hidden by shadow with their backs to the camera, Parker could not identify the men at first.


"Remember our deal." Lyle's voice whispered from one of the black figures.


"I remember." A familiar accented voice replied.


"I mean it, Sydney." Lyle hissed. "You corroborate whatever I say or I swear you will watch Jarod suffer for your actions."


Parker could see the second figure nod curtly. The men walked closer to the cell and into the lighted portion of the room.


"Look who has come to visit, Jarod." Lyle said loudly.


Jarod woke with a start and jerked his head around to stare mutely at the visitors for a moment. Bleary-eyed and dopey from the drugs at first, Jarod blinked up at the men in confusion. Then with a gasp, he dragged himself up to stand pressed against the steel.


"Sydney!" Jarod cried, reaching out to his old mentor through the bars.


"Jarod!" Sydney grasped the younger man's hand with both of his own and gazed at him with concern.


Jarod closed his eyes and gasped, his lips trembling as he asked quietly, "How is Miss Parker?"


Sydney frowned and started to speak but Lyle cut him off.


"Now is not a good time to discuss it, Jarod." Lyle said in a clipped tone. "Sydney has spent the day going through the things in her office. It's been a difficult time for him." Lyle voice took on a smooth condescending tone. "After all, Sydney knew her longer than any of us. Didn't you Sydney?" Lyle asked as he cast a pointed look at the older man.


Sydney stared at Lyle wide-eyed, mouth agape. He was obviously stunned by the magnitude of the lie he had already promised to support. Lyle glanced at him expectantly and frowned.


Sydney sighed sadly. "Yes." He whispered.". I. I did."


Jarod flinched as if he'd been struck. "She's dead?" Jarod asked in a coarse whisper.


"I'm sorry, Jarod." Sydney whispered.


Parker's jaw clenched as she watched. It was glaringly obvious that Sydney's words were chosen specifically for the way that Jarod would interpret them. Though the psychiatrist had not really lied, he had essentially supported Lyle's version of events. Jarod clearly believed that Parker was dead.


Backing away across the cell, Jarod stared at the two men in wide-eyed shock. His eye's filled with tears as he slowly shook his head back and forth in denial. "No." he whispered.


"I tried to tell you." Lyle said with a shrug.


"Sydney," Jarod voice broke. "Tell me it not true."


Sydney shook his head. "I'm so sorry."


Jarod backed up until his back struck the opposite wall. With nowhere else to go, Jarod began to tremble. He looked around the space like a lost child. Shuddering with each breath as though the act itself caused him pain, Jarod gasped and sank to his knees. "No." He moaned. Tears began to flow down his cheeks when he looked up at Sydney and whispered mournfully. "I didn't mean it. I didn't."


Sydney quickly moved to the other side of the cell where Jarod lay. Reaching past the bars Sydney placed a hand gently on Jarod's shoulder. "She wouldn't want us to grieve for her." The older man said softly.


"We had no one to grieve for us, Sydney. We only ever had each other." Jarod whispered dejectedly. "If I don't grieve for her, then who else will?" With that the pretender began to sob in deep hiccupping gasps. Curling into a tight ball of abject misery, Jarod wept.


"Jarod." Sydney said firmly, shaking Jarod's shoulder. "Don't do this to yourself. You didn't kill her."


Jerking his body away from Sydney's touch, Jarod wailed, "Leave me alone! Please, I want to be alone."


Grinning triumphantly, Lyle took Sydney by the arm and dragged him out of the room.


Once the other two men had left, Jarod rolled onto his back on the floor. Arms flung wide, he stared up at the ceiling while tears ran unchecked down the sides of his face. "I'm sorry." He whispered to the fixtures above.


Parker watched the screen helplessly as Jarod continued to mourn for her. He was obviously shattered, weeping uncontrollably for hours. Moisture built in her own eyes as she realized the irony of it all. The one person she had been trained to hunt down and destroy was grieving for her as no other soul could.


Her pain transformed suddenly into an anger that surged violently through Parker's body. Lyle's lies were one thing. He was a deceitful two-faced whoremonger, never to be trusted. Jarod had known better than to believe anything Lyle said. But the one person Jarod trusted most had helped Lyle in this betrayal.


Parker tossed aside the blanket covering her and stormed through the house to get some shoes. She didn't care that it was after midnight. Parker's fury was like a live thing churning through her body. She would seek retribution tonight. Sydney was going to pay for his part in this treachery. Parker tossed on a jacket, grabbed up her keys and slammed out of the house.


Parker didn't stop to wonder why she was so upset. It never occurred to her that Jarod's anguish should not affect her this way. She knew only that the pretender was hurting and if Parker could not stop the pain for him, the least she could do was to make someone pay.


Tires squealed as Parker recklessly maneuvered the car onto the street and headed for Sydney's.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 4


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By Phenyx



A pounding on his front door roused Sydney from a light slumber. Rising groggily from the over- stuffed easy chair where he had fallen into a light sleep, he glanced at his watch and frowned at the lateness of the hour. Having worked at The Centre for so many years, Sydney had become accustomed to late night visitors. But rarely were such visitors a welcome occurrence in his home.


Sydney was standing in the hallway, warily studying the closed door and pondering his options when the rapid pounding resumed.


"Open up, Syd." Miss Parker's muffled voice filtered through the panel. "Open this door, right now!"


The angry tone in Parker's voice made Sydney sigh regretfully. He had known this was coming. He had known since Parker had left the office earlier this evening with the two silver disks. There had been little that Sydney could do to prevent it. Straightening his shoulders resolutely, he reached for the doorknob and prepared himself for Miss Parker's wrath.


The entrance had opened mere inches when Parker grabbed the edge with one hand and rammed her shoulder forcefully against the other side. The door flew open, knocking Sydney aside. Parker stormed in, fury written across her face.


Sydney had only enough time to blurt out her name, "Parker." He didn't get any further.


Miss Parker's movements were as quick and smooth as fluid lightning. One manicured hand flashed in front of Sydney's face and he suddenly found himself on the floor, rubbing at his stinging jaw. Looking up, Sydney stared straight down the barrel of Parker's handgun.


Parker's face was wild with anger. She growled at him, her voice dripping with animosity. "You lying bastard. I should shoot you right now."


"Miss Parker." Sydney said in his softly soothing voice.


"No!" She yelled. "None of your smooth talk. No more of your lies!"


"You've seen the recording of my visit with Jarod." Sydney said simply.


Stomping her foot like a petulant child, Parker cried sarcastically, "Brilliant deduction, Doctor! However did you come to that conclusion?"


The two of them stared silently at each other for a moment. Sydney sprawled on the ground at Parker's feet as she pointed her pistol at him unwaveringly.


"Sydney," Parker finally hissed. "How could you? He trusts you."


"I didn't know what lies Lyle had told Jarod." Sydney began carefully. "I was worried. I needed to see him. To find out if he was still alive."


The arm holding the gun lowered slowly but the look on Parker's face remained hard.


Sydney continued. "Your accident had left you terribly ill and bed-ridden for weeks. Jarod had gone into that frigid water too, you know. I needed to know that he was all right." The older man shrugged ruefully. "When Lyle offered me the chance to see Jarod, I took it. All I had to do was agree with whatever Lyle said. I would have done anything to get to Jarod. I'd have sold my soul if that is what it would take."


Parker shook her head sadly. "You sold your soul a long, long time ago, Syd." She said.


With the gun hanging limply in one hand at her side, Parker leaned her back dejectedly against the wall. Running her other hand anxiously through her hair, Parker's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "He trusts you, Sydney." She whispered.


Sydney rose cautiously to his feet. "I thought that once I had seen Jarod, once I knew his location, I could go back to him later and tell him the truth. But, by the time I could sneak back down there, Lyle had moved him."


"You should have told me." Parker moaned angrily. "We've been looking for him for more than a week and you never once mentioned that you had seen him. You never said anything about Jarod believing that I was dead."


"Why does it matter, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked in a near whisper. "Why has Jarod reacted so badly to the news of your death?"


Miss Parker frowned. "What do you mean, badly?" she snapped.


Sydney rubbed one hand across his face in dismay. "You haven't seen the rest of the disk." He stated knowingly. "You just rushed straight over here to deck me with your right cross."


"You deserved it." Parker said harshly.


"Probably." Sydney admitted. "But I only did what I though was best."


"For whom?" Parker cried.


"For Jarod, of course." Sydney yelled back.


Parker shook her head morosely. "How am I supposed to believe you, Syd? I can never tell which side you're on."


"I'm on which ever side will keep him alive." Sydney said seriously. "Preferably alive and well, but I'll settle for alive."


Parker glared at him uncertainly.


"Miss Parker," Sydney soothed. "I think you had better watch the rest of the recordings. I don't think we have much time left."


Parker straightened with concern at Sydney's statement. "What do you know about it, Syd?" she asked. "Have you seen him again?"


Sydney shook his head. "Broots knew that we would both want to see those disks. Before giving them to you, he made a second copy for me."


Sydney walked passed Parker and into the den where his own DSA player sat upon his desk. Standing alone in the hallway, Parker hesitated for a moment. But curiosity and concern finally overcame her anger. With a huff of frustration, she stomped after the older man in irritation.


Sydney turned on the power to the viewing device and motioned for Parker to sit in the chair positioned beside the desk. Parker glared at him in animosity. The fact that she still held her gun in one hand was not lost on Sydney.


Rather than wait for Parker to sit, Sydney simply reached out, turned on the view screen, and set the play back to a specified time frame. An image of Jarod appeared. Sprawled spread eagle on the floor of his cell, Jarod stared sightlessly at the ceiling. As Parker slid into the chair to watch the recording, Lyle entered the room alone. Jarod didn't react to the other man's presence at all.


Lying motionless, Jarod allowed Lyle to administer another dose of narcotics. Without so much as a whimper, Jarod ignored Lyle's presence completely.


Looking down at the pretender's inert form, Lyle sighed and said, "I'm sure she doesn't blame you, Jarod." Lyle shrugged. "Okay, maybe she does blame you a bit, but not entirely." He added cruelly.


Jarod seemed not hear anything. He did not respond in any way so Lyle simply left.


A similar scene repeated itself for the next day or so. At regular intervals, Lyle would enter the room with his syringe, crouch on the floor beside the unmoving pretender and give him a shot. After some snide remark, Lyle would leave the room.


Jarod barely even blinked. Food and water was left untouched on the trays brought in by Mr. Lyle. Eventually, Lyle brought the sweepers with him and the two bigger men dragged Jarod away to a new location, dumping him unceremoniously on a cot in the new room.


"He's not looking too good." One of the guards said.


Lyle glared at the big man. "I pay you not to look so closely at things Simmons. Mind your own damned business." He growled.


But watching the image on Sydney's DSA viewer, Parker had to agree with the sweeper. Jarod, heavily under the influence of the drugs Lyle had just given him, did look rather ill. His eyelids fluttered over glazed, deeply stoned eyes. His skin had taken on the sunken, unhealthy pallor of a malnourished street addict. Jarod's lips were dry and cracked, giving evidence that his body was badly dehydrated.


Lyle frowned at the lump of flesh lying in the cot and shook his head in frustration. "Get out." He snarled at the two sweepers. The men quickly left with Lyle following closely.


Lyle returned to the room shortly afterward. This time Mr. Raines, slowly hauling his squeaking oxygen tank, accompanied Lyle into the room. The two men stared down at Jarod for several moments. Raines grasped the pretender's wrist between his fingertips and stared at his watch in silence.


"His pulse is thready. He has a low grade fever." Raines wheezed. Glaring up at Lyle he asked, "How long has it been since he's eaten anything?"


Lyle shrugged. "A few days I guess." Lyle spoke quickly in his own defense. "Hey, I've brought his meals every day. You can't blame me if he refuses to eat that slop."


Raines shook his head. "You are supposed to encourage him toward more submissive behavior, Lyle. Killing him was not part of the objective at this point." Raines sighed heavily. "Force feed him." He ordered coldly then Raines turned and left the room.


Parker watched in horrified shock as Lyle brought several orderlies dressed in white into the room. While two of the white clad men held Jarod down, another forced a tube down the motionless pretender's throat. Parker winced when she heard the gagging sounds Jarod made as he was intubated. Feeding him as though he was a coma patient, a large syringe filled with gelatinous goop was attached to the end and pumped into Jarod's stomach through the tube.


Jarod's back arched and his hands clawed at the mattress beneath him as the tubing was then yanked back out of his body.


"Oh god." Parker moaned softly. "He's conscious." She whispered. "He knows exactly what they are doing to him."


Sydney gently placed a hand on her shoulder and the two observers shared a look of appalled dismay.


The orderlies placed an I.V. in Jarod's arm and started the drip that would re-hydrate him. Once that had been completed, the entire group left the room. When Jarod's chest heaved with a forlorn sigh, Parker could not hold back her own tears any longer. Silent drops rolled down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them away.


The ghastly force-feeding drill continued, twice a day for the next two days. Still, Jarod refused to respond to Lyle in any way. On the third day, when the team came with the tubing, Lyle stood above Jarod and waggled the narcotic filled syringe before him.


"If you want this, Jarod." Lyle purred. "You will stop this nonsense and eat on your own."


Jarod stared blankly at the ceiling.


Lyle raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Are you sure? I think that you may be wanting this pretty badly in a few hours." He said.


With no response from Jarod, Lyle shrugged and said, "Very well." He placed the syringe into his jacket pocket and nodded curtly at the team of orderlies. Within minutes, the tube had been shoved down Jarod's throat and the nutritional supplement had been administered. A gagging, choking sound followed as the tube was removed.


Several hours later, Lyle again stood over Jarod's bed. Jarod's body was wracked with the obvious signs of drug withdrawal. His hands were trembling and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. Jarod's face contorted in a grimace as convulsive pains gripped him.


"You know the deal, Jarod." Lyle said in a singsong voice. "If you want the reward you must first do as I say."


Jarod, shivering and tight-lipped, gave no response.


"Fine." Lyle said.


As Mr. Lyle turned toward the door to call in the orderlies, Jarod abruptly moved. In flash of motion astounding for someone in his condition, Jarod suddenly rose from the bed and slammed into Lyle. The I.V. tubing attached to Jarod's arm snapped from the bottom of the plastic bag that hung from the stand and saline solution began spraying across the floor.


Jarod pushed Lyle against the wall and brought his knee into Lyle's midsection with a grinding force. As Lyle bent over in a whoosh of pain, Jarod slid behind him. Grabbing the I.V. tube that dangled from his own arm, Jarod wrapped the plastic garrote around Lyle's throat and started to pull it tightly. Gripping Lyle in a deadly embrace, Jarod backed into the far corner of the room, keeping his prisoner's body between him and the stunned orderlies.


Moments later, the two sweepers burst into the room, guns pointed at Jarod while Lyle gasped for air in the pretender's arms. With a disgusted heave, Jarod released Lyle without warning. Lyle lay in a twisted, rasping pile on the floor, the plastic tubing still wrapped around his neck at one end and attached to Jarod's forearm at the other.


With a grin of triumph, Jarod held the drug filled syringe from Lyle's pocket in one hand. Before the sweepers could jump him, Jarod flipped the plastic cover off of the needle, turned the point on himself and rammed it into his stomach. He pressed the plunger with his thumb just as one of the sweepers knocked him to the ground.


Parker didn't see anymore of the video. Horrified at the scene she had just witnessed, Parker sprang from the chair. Wide-eyed and frightened, she stared at Sydney in gasping desperation. "Oh my god. Oh my god." She whispered over and over. She backed away from the older man in irrational fear as he tried to comfort her.


"Sydney." She pleaded. "What? How?" Bright spots began flashing across Parker's vision and with a cry of tortured anguish she let the panic overcome her.


Later, Parker would not remember fleeing from Sydney's house. Nor would she ever be able to recall the frenzied drive through darkened streets. Moving on instinct alone, Parker did not regain control of her senses until nearly an hour later, when she found herself cowering alone in an alcove in one of the hallways at The Centre.


Her face was wet with tears and she was shivering uncontrollably. Disoriented at first, it took a few moments for Parker to determine her location. She was in a deserted hallway on SL-24. What she was doing here or how she had gotten there she did not know. Closing her eyes, she took several deep, calming breaths.


Her head ached. Parker rubbed at her temples wearily. There was a migraine building behind her eyes. She could feel it. Frowning, she glanced up and down the dimly lit hallway. Leaning her head back against the wall for a moment, she felt her gaze drawn to the unmarked door directly across from her. The longer Parker stared at the door, the more strongly it pulled at her.


Finally her curiosity got the best of her. Parker pushed away from the wall and scooted out of her hiding place. Looking around furtively, she tiptoed toward the door. Testing the knob, she found that it was locked as expected. Most doors at The Centre were locked these days. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Parker felt through her hair and quickly found a hairpin. She looked around again before she knelt at the lock.


At this late hour, Parker didn't expect many people on this level, but she still tried to hurry as she picked the lock. Within a minute, she heard a soft click, twisted the knob and slid into the room.


The room wasn't large but a wall of steel bars had been erected across the center of the room creating a prison cell on one side. Lying in a crumbled pile inside the cell was a bruised and battered pretender that Parker barely recognized as Jarod.


Parker walked gingerly across the room and slid to her knees at the bars of the cell. "Oh, Jarod." She whispered sadly. "What have they done to you?"


Sprawled unconscious on his back, one of Jarod's hands was flung out to his side. Parker pressed her cheek against the steel bars and reached between them to grasp the limp hand.


"Jarod?" Parker called to him softly. She squeezed his fingers more tightly with her own and was rewarded with a fluttering of his eyelids. "Jarod." She repeated more firmly.


Jarod blinked and rolled his head toward Parker. Glazed, bloodshot eyes focused blearily on her. His lips trembled into a weak but sorrowful smile.


Parker smiled back. "Hey there." She said tearfully.


"Hey." He croaked.


For a long minute they just smiled tremulously at one another. Then Jarod's eyes filled with tears and he whispered fervently, "I miss you."


"I'm right here." Parker told him.


"I'm so sorry" Jarod sobbed suddenly.


"There's nothing to be sorry for, Jarod. You'll figure a way out of this. You'll be okay." Parker tried to reassure him.


"I miss you." He whispered again. "I wish you were really here."


Parker blinked in surprise as she realized that Jarod believed he was talking to a figment of his imagination. "I am here, really."


Jarod rolled onto his side and clasped Parker's hand between both his own. Rubbing his stubble covered cheek against her knuckles he sighed sadly. "Promise me, Miss Parker. Promise that you will always haunt my dreams."


Tears ran down Parker's cheeks as she tried unsuccessfully to reach Jarod's drug fogged mind. "You are not dreaming." She told him.


"Haunt my dreams, Miss Parker." Jarod begged. "And I will sleep. Sleep forever and ever."


Curling into a ball, Jarod continued to mumble incoherently as he wrapped his body around their clasped hands. As he slipped back into unconsciousness, Parker shook his shoulder frantically. So intent was she on rousing the pretender that she didn't register another presence in the room until a hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder.


Flinching away in surprise, Parker gasped and fumbled for her gun only to discover that she had abandoned it at Sydney's house. Thinking that she was done for, Parker sighed in relief when she looked up and saw Angelo crouching down beside her. Pressed against the wall beside the door stood Broots, staring at Parker with the same look of shock and disbelief that she was giving him.


"What are you two doing here?" Parker hissed.


"I, I wanted. We were just." Broots stuttered.


"Out with it you moron," Parker growled. "Don't you know how dangerous this is?"


Broots looked at Miss Parker with a frown. He wondered briefly if she had any idea how bizarre she looked. Kneeling on the floor like a nun before an altar, she glared up at him with fire in her ice blue eyes and the shiny wetness of tears on her cheeks.


It was Angelo who spoke, breaking the tension of the odd moment. "We go now." Angelo said, placing his hand on Parker's shoulder again. The strange man looked at Parker with an intensity that made her shiver. "We all go. Now."


Parker glanced up at Broots in confusion. "What's going on?" She asked.


"I'm sorry, Miss Parker." Broots said nervously. "I can't, in good conscience, stand by and let this happen anymore." Moving across the room to the cell door, Broots magically produced a key that he inserted into the lock. A moment later, the barred door opened.


Angelo hurried to Broots' side and the two men hauled Jarod to his feet. Parker watched them as they half dragged half carried the pretender out of the cell.


"Come," Angelo said to Miss Parker. "We go now. Quickly."


Parker scrambled to her feet and rushed to the outer door. Opening it slightly, she peered into the hallway to be sure that no one was about. Turning to the men behind her, she nodded once and slipped into the corridor. As they rounded a turn in the hall, Angelo switched places with Miss Parker. She helped drag Jarod through the gloom as Angelo led the small group on a convoluted maze of passageways.


Panting with exertion, Parker glanced at Broots with concern. "What about Debbie?" she asked him as they waited for Angelo to check the next corridor.


Broots shrugged uncomfortably. "She and I had a long talk last night. She's thirteen now. I figured she had the right to know what kind of danger I was putting her in just by coming to work every day." Angelo waved them on and the quartet resumed their agonizingly slow journey through the sub-levels.


"She's the one who told me that it was time to leave." Broots said with pride.


Parker shook her head in astonishment. "She's a good kid."


Broots nodded. "We're going to get out of here and start a new life somewhere." He vowed. "Somewhere safe."


Parker kept her doubts to herself. They followed Angelo through parts of The Centre that Parker didn't recognize. These passages had never been on any blueprint she had ever seen. She didn't even know that these areas had existed.


After what seemed an eternity of hauling Jarod through dark tunnels, Angelo finally led them into the fresh air through a storm drain. Easily pushing aside the grate that covered the pipe, Angelo hopped to the grass and turned to help Broots and Parker lower Jarod out of the opening.


"Hurry!" Angelo whispered frantically as they stumbled across an open field. Parker felt the other man's anxiety grow and adrenaline surged through her.


They reached a nearby copse of trees where Broots then led them to a delivery van hidden amongst the brush. The engine was idling and the door opened as they approached.


Broots' daughter, Debbie was crouched inside the van. The girl's eyes were wide with fear and apprehension.


They all clambered into the vehicle. Laying Jarod down as gently as they could, Broots hopped behind the steering wheel, put the van in gear and drove away from The Centre.


"I'm glad you're coming with us Miss Parker." Debbie said softly.


Parker cast a tentative smile at the girl, trying to reassure her. Debbie motioned toward the still form at her feet. "Is he alright?" Debbie asked.


Parker shook her head sadly. "No." She answered. "He isn't." Debbie produced a warm blanket from a pile nearby and together Parker and the girl tucked the soft wool around Jarod.


The van seemed to be a delivery truck of some sort. There were the two front seats and a long bench seat situated behind those. The rest of the area was open cargo space and had been carpeted with blankets and several pillows. Two large duffel bags were stacked against one wall.


Angelo huddled on the floor between the front seats and the bench, while Parker and Debbie sat in the cargo area with Jarod unconscious beside them. They had only driven for only a few miles, when Broots suddenly asked, "Miss Parker? What will happen to Sydney?"


Parker looked down at Jarod with a frown. "I don't know." She said softly.


Angelo's head popped up over the back of the seat. "Sydney, too. Be safe together."


Parker was surprised to realize that she understood the strange man's meaning. "I'm not sure that's a good idea Angelo." She said. "Can we really trust him?"


Angelo nodded his head vigorously. "We ALL go now." He said.


Parker shrugged. She was in this way over her head anyway. She was on the run with nothing but the clothes on her back. What difference would one more fugitive make in this oddball little crew? Besides, a stop at the psychiatrist's house would at least give Parker the chance to retrieve her gun.


"You heard the man, Broots." Parker sighed. "Swing by Syd's place and then we get the hell out of Dodge."

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 5


Pain



By Phenyx


The world was a black void. There was nothing in the emptiness. Nothing but sharp, agonizing slashes of pain that clawed at him whenever he approached consciousness. So he turned away from the pain. He hid from it by submersing himself in the dark. The nothingness of sleep was a welcome escape and he pursued it eagerly.


There was no passage of time in this place. He floated in the abyss and wrapped himself in the eternity of silence that he found there. His mind tried to tell him that it was peaceful in this world but he knew better. He knew that he did not hover at the edge of tranquility. Instead, he teetered along the fringes of death.


One thing kept him from rushing into the darkness and embracing its vastness. A softness caressed his lips. Round pads of gentle fingertips cool with moisture, touched droplets of water to his mouth again and again until he was forced to respond. At first, his tongue merely tasted the drops. But the sensation of moisture that his body craved was more addictive than any drug.


He lapped at the water that dribbled across his face. Reaching out sightlessly in that darkness, he pulled the fingers closer and suckled the liquid from them. Like a vampire starved for blood, he clung to the hand while his tongue laved the droplets away. When the hand abruptly vanished, yanked from his meager grip, he cried out despairingly. But a moment later, a glass was held to his lips and the hand held his head while he drank greedily.


"Slowly, slowly." He heard a soft voice whisper through the emptiness.


He gulped down the contents of the cup. When the fluid hit his stomach, that tortured organ tried to betray him and he fought a sudden urge to retch. Bright, intense flashes of pain ripped through him again and he heard the sound of his own voice as he cried out.


His mind cowered from the agony. He fled once more into the blankness.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.yadda yadda yadda :P



One Good Turn Part 6

Waking Up


By Phenyx



Parker sat curled in a cushioned chair next to the bed. She had tried to flip through an ancient magazine that she had found on a shelf. But the articles held little of interest for her. Her attire consisted of jeans and a sweatshirt. Simple white canvas shoes covered her feet. She wrapped a quilted fleece cardigan around her to ward off the slight chill she imagined in the room.


The place was comfortable enough Parker had to admit. The cabin was located in an isolated valley on the south west side of the Appalachian Mountains. They hadn't had any trouble renting it. Though spring hung tantalizingly in the air, it wasn't quite time for the tourists to invade the forests just yet.


Sydney had been the one to get them into the cabin. Armed with a phony identification card and a wad of cash, Sydney had been the only one of this little band that had been seen by the landlord. He'd gone into town for food and supplies on his own as well. As far as the locals were aware, the only occupant of the lonely cabin was a solitary older gentleman who wanted to be left alone so that he could write a novel.


So far, the ruse was working nicely. Sydney had been amazingly well prepared for their abrupt departure from Delaware two days ago. As the group had driven east, they had stopped briefly in Charleston, West Virginia where Sydney secretly had a safety deposit box in one of the area banks. It was there that he had retrieved several identification cards and an eye-boggling briefcase full of currency.


Well-funded and stocked with supplies, they had begun their life in hiding, choosing this rural wooded setting for their first lair. The cabin wasn't large. The log house only contained four rooms. The largest of these was a wide, open area that held the kitchen along one wall and a combined dining and living area in the rest of the space. There was no television, much to Debbie's dismay, but a welcoming fireplace was the focal point of this big room.


There were two bedrooms with a total of only three beds. The couch in the living area made for a manageable fourth sleeping area but there were six people in this group. Even so, the sleeping arrangements hadn't become a problem yet. Parker spent her nights propped in the chair where she now sat. Angelo seemed content to sprawl on the floor wherever he happened to be when got tired. Sydney had claimed the couch and Broots shared the bunk beds in the second bedroom with his daughter.


Thankfully, each bedroom came equipped with its own bathroom, making the logistics of living with such a large group a bit easier.


Jarod lay unconscious in the queen-sized bed in the master bedroom. Parker had spent the last two days, painstakingly getting fluid into Jarod's body. Using a clean cloth, she squeezed water into his mouth one drop at a time. Jarod had been frighteningly unresponsive most of the time.


Parker was worried. Jarod's condition was much worse than they had first assumed. When they'd brought him here and settled him into the bed, Jarod had been wracked with fever. In an effort to cool him down, they had removed the inmate gray clothes and sponged Jarod's skin with cooling water. Parker had massaged the pretender's flesh again and again. As a result, she'd had the opportunity to inventory every tear and bruise on Jarod's body. His lower lip had been split open and there was a yellowing bruise around one eye. Parker found healing slash marks crisscrossing Jarod's back. Caressing these scabs with her fingertips, Parker realized that Jarod had been whipped and she was glad that she hadn't watched the rest of the DSA recordings. Splayed over Jarod's ribs on his right side was an ugly deep purple contusion so large that together, both of Parker's hands could not cover the spot.


Despite these physical signs of abuse, it was the agonizing pain of withdrawal that concerned Miss Parker the most. Jarod's lean form shivered constantly. Once Parker had gotten enough water in his body to re-hydrate it, Jarod's skin turned clammy with sweat. He tossed back and forth and often mumbled incoherently.


For nearly two days, Jarod had been unconscious and seemed unaware of his surroundings. Parker had been stunned several hours ago when Jarod had suddenly grabbed her. She had been trying to give Jarod water at the time. She was dipping her fingers into the water and then smoothing the droplets onto his dry, cracked lips. Without warning, Jarod had reached out and yanked her toward him. Jarod had sucked at her fingertips greedily while Parker stared at him in shock.


Several seconds had passed as she watched him with detached fascination. Realizing his need, Parker had lifted a full glass of water to Jarod's lips and held him as he drank. Groping blindly, Jarod had contorted with pain as a spasm gripped him. He had fallen back into unconsciousness and had barely moved since.


Jarod began to toss and turn, twisting the sheets around him. Meaningless, nonsense words tumbled from his mouth as Jarod flinched and frowned in his sleep.


Parker moved to sit beside him on the bed. Taking the bowl of water, Parker used her fingers to drip more fluid between Jarod's lips.


"Jarod?" Parker asked softly as he began to thrash about more vigorously. "It's okay, Jarod. You are going to be fine." Miss Parker refused to acknowledge any possibility that Jarod would not recover.


The frown on Jarod's face became more pronounced and his lower lip pouted with a quiver. Clenching his muscles into tight bunches the pretender seemed to be cringing, collapsing into a smaller space.


With a petulant whimper Jarod spoke. "I wanna go home." He whined in a small voice.


Parker reached for a washcloth on the end table. She wet the rag and wrung it out before placing the cool cloth against Jarod's brow. "Hush now." Parker whispered. She brushed the long hair from Jarod's forehead in a calming gesture.


"My froat hurts." He said in a slurred voice.


"Go back to sleep, Jarod." She said gently. "You'll feel better after you sleep a while longer."


Jarod's chocolate brown eyes opened for a moment. Unfocused and glazed, the pretender's eyes did not see anything that was actually in the room. Parker could tell that he was awake but not exactly conscious.


His lip trembled and he moaned in a sniveling voice, "I wanna go home, now." Jarod sniffed. "My froat hurts." One hand fluttered to his neck and Jarod winced painfully as he swallowed.


Parker suddenly realized where Jarod's delirium had taken him. Centre records indicated that Jarod had come to The Centre with no tonsils. They had been removed when Jarod was very young, long before he had been taken from his parents. Evidently, Jarod's fevered mind was reliving the immediate aftermath of his tonsillectomy.


"Sshh." Parker said as she stroked her fingers though his hair in a soothing motion. "You need to sleep now, Jarod. When you wake up you can have ice cream." She added with a small smile.


The promise of ice cream seemed to calm him for a moment. "Where is my blanket?" He asked demandingly.


Parker frowned in confusion. "What blanket?"


Jarod's eyelids drifted shut and he sighed. "It has cowboys on it."


Parker smiled. In her mind, a picture formed of the child Jarod had once been. She imagined a bright, precocious little boy with big sparkling brown eyes, long dark lashes and an irresistible grin. His intelligence and creativity had probably made him far too curious for his own good. The child's poor mother had probably had a devil of a time keeping Jarod occupied. And Parker knew from first hand experience what a pain in the ass he could be when Jarod got bored.


The knowledge that Jarod had once been attached to some sort of security blanket added another layer of charm to the mental image.


Jarod began to toss about and whimper frantically about the missing blanket from so long ago.


Parker looked around for some substitute. The best she could do was the fleece jacket she wore. Quickly removing the garment, Parker handed the soft quilted fabric to Jarod.


"Here's your blanket, Jarod." She said gently, brushing the soft cloth against his cheek.


Jarod obediently accepted the jacket and clutched it possessively under his chin.


"Sleep now." Parker hushed.


Jarod curled on his side and slipped into fitful unconsciousness. Parker smiled slyly at the sleeping form as she rubbed calming circles on his back. Jarod's childhood security blanket was a wonderful little piece of knowledge.


A light rapping came at the door as Sydney entered the room.


"How is he?" the older man asked.


Parker shook her head. "He's hallucinating." She answered.


A small smile still softened Parker's face prompting Sydney to ask, "Is something amusing you, Miss Parker?"


"No." She denied. Parker didn't want to share the small secret she'd just learned about Jarod. She wanted to hold this information close and cherish it for a while.


Sydney didn't push the issue. "He looks like he's moved around quite a bit." Sydney observed.


Parker nodded. "He's thrashing around a lot." She brushed her fingertips across Jarod's brow.


Sydney settled into the chair Parker had recently vacated. He watched her as she fussed over Jarod. Sydney found it interesting that Miss Parker, of all people, would take such close charge of Jarod's convalescence. She had barely left this room for the past forty-eight hours. Parker rarely allowed anyone else to tend the insensate pretender.


Watching her now, Sydney noted how Parker perched on the bed at Jarod's side. Under the guise of cooling his face, Parker repeatedly caressed Jarod's forehead and cheeks with the dampened cloth. She showed a tenderness and compassion with her patient that Sydney had not realized she was capable of expressing.


Together the two of them sat quietly watching over Jarod. They shared a look of concern as Jarod's tossing worsened. After nearly an hour, Jarod's thrashing abruptly stilled. His breathing became very slow and deep. The pretender's total stillness was eerily quiet after he'd been kicking at the sheets for so long. The silence was deafening.


For long minutes, the room was completely silent except for the deep rhythmic breathing of the bed's occupant. Suddenly, even those sounds ceased as Jarod exhaled and there was no responding inhalation.


"Sydney?" Parker cried. "I don't think he's breathing!"


Sydney sprang from the chair and moved to Jarod's bedside. Grabbing the unmoving form by the shoulders, he shook Jarod hard. "Jarod!" Sydney yelled.


Parker shoved the older man aside and put her ear to Jarod's chest to listen. She felt a shuddering in the pretender's body and for a split second she thought they were experiencing an earthquake. Parker quickly realized that it was Jarod's body that was trembling.


With a huge gasp, Jarod's body arched off the bed as if he were suffering from an electrical shock. Then his arms and legs began to flop around uncontrollably. Convulsions shook Jarod's body and he twitched violently.


"He's having a seizure!" Sydney said. "Help me get him on his side to keep his tongue from blocking the airway."


With Parker sitting on one side and Sydney on the other, they pushed Jarod onto his right side. The grotesque spasms that shook Jarod's frame served to throw him onto his back. Parker shoved him onto his side again and pressed her body against his shoulder in order to hold Jarod in place.


A low-pitched keening moan came from Jarod's throat as his body convulsed. Parker, effectively holding him down, put her arms around Jarod and began talking calmly to him.


"You're going to be alright, Jarod." Parker soothed. "Just hang on and ride it out. Just ride it out." Parker continued talking in a normal conversational tone. "You're in withdrawal. It will pass. Just ride it out." She repeated.


Just over one minute later, the seizure began to dissipate. The violent shuddering transformed into a mere occasional twitch and then finally stopped altogether. Jarod lay panting and drenched in sweat in the aftermath of the spasms.


Watery brown eyes opened blearily, rolled about for a moment, looked up at Miss Parker and focused on her face.


Parker could see the recognition on Jarod's face and the confusion that followed it. He tried to speak but couldn't seem to find the strength. All he could manage was a faint, whispered, "Ggaa"


"Hey there, you." Parker whispered. Wetting the rag again, she used it to pat the salty dampness from Jarod's face and upper torso. "Welcome back to the land of the living."


Jarod sighed. As Parker rubbed the cool cloth down his arm, Jarod reached out and weakly grabbed her hand with his own. He pulled her hand to his chest and placed it over his heart, clasping both of his palms over the top of it meaningfully.


Parker smiled gently in understanding. "I'm glad to see you too, Rat."


Sydney watched them silently. Parker sat quietly at Jarod's side as he drifted into a deep sleep with her hand still clutched to his chest. Sydney had always known that his two younger friends shared a special connection. It was this link between them that made Parker so efficient at pursuing the pretender. But until this moment, Sydney had not really understood the depths of this bond. The softness on Parker's face during this unguarded moment betrayed her feelings for Jarod. She cared deeply for him. Sydney wondered at how well Parker had been able to hide this from them all at The Centre. Perhaps the only way she had hidden these emotions was to deny they existed, even to her self.


During his musings, Sydney sighed in amazement at this revelation. Parker caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. As though she had just remembered the older man's presence, Parker's posture suddenly straightened. She slowly removed her hand from Jarod's chest. The look of tenderness that had softened her face disappeared and the guarded hardness that Sydney was accustomed to returned.


Sensing Parker's discomfort, Sydney cleared his throat and said, "I'll start heating some soup. Next time he wakes we should try to get him to eat a little broth."


Parker nodded in agreement and made no further comment.


Sydney left quickly and quietly.


The next three days passed in a blur for Jarod. Brief periods of consciousness were scattered among much longer stretches of heavy, recuperative slumber. He had hazy memories of being fed. The simple broth spooned into his mouth at first felt like hot bricks on his stomach and Jarod could remember throwing up at one point. But with the patience of Job, the fluids were poured down his throat, one spoonful at a time. Hot soup and cool water trickled into him until his body reacquainted itself with the concept of food and the sick retching feeling went away.


An odd rumbling sound woke Jarod. He blinked at the ceiling for several minutes and tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. Other than knowing he had been ill, Jarod could recall very little. He had seen Miss Parker, of that he was sure. She was alive. She had smiled at him.


Looking around the room Jarod found that he was alone. Outside, rain pelted the curtained window furiously. Lightning flashed, followed closely by another rumble of thunder. The light in the room was gloomy due to the storm, making it difficult for Jarod to determine the time of day.


Quickly deciding on a course of action, Jarod threw back the sheets covering him and tried to sit up. Clutching at the headboard, Jarod squeezed his eyes shut tight as the room spun frantically. It took several minutes for the wave of dizziness to pass.


Realizing that he was naked, Jarod pushed himself to his feet and stumbled awkwardly across the room to the bureau. Praying that he would find something he could wear, Jarod yanked open one of the drawers. As weak as he was, this simple effort was almost too much for him. Thanking the fates that seemed to look over his life, Jarod removed a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt from the drawer.


Pulling on the jeans was another nearly impossible task. Jarod spend several minutes in the process and had to lie back on the bed to rest when he'd finished. Slipping his arms into the shirtsleeves, he didn't bother with the buttons. Barefoot, with his shirttails flapping, Jarod delicately made his way to the door.


Fully expecting the door to be locked, Jarod was somewhat surprised to find that the knob turned easily in his hands. Opening the portal slowly, he peeked into the next room. There was a large open area with a kitchen situated along one wall. On the opposite side of the room was a comfortable looking sofa that faced a large fireplace. To one side, there was a round wooden table and several chairs.


To Jarod's dismay, around this table sat the three Centre employees who had been pursuing him for the last six years. Parker, Sydney and Broots each sat at one side of the round table. At the forth spot, Jarod was surprised to see Broots' little girl Debbie. The entire group had their attention focused on a game board and tiles arranged between them. From this distance, Jarod couldn't be sure but the game looked like Scrabble.


Jarod knew that in his current condition, he would not be able to outrun even Debbie. But if he could move quietly enough, perhaps he could sneak along the wall and be out the front door before they realized it.


Supporting himself with the wall it his back, Jarod crept across the room. Growing weaker with every step, Jarod forced himself to move. When Broots glanced up at the pretender in surprise, Jarod froze in sudden panic.


Broots began to rise from his chair but Miss Parker, seemingly intent upon her game pieces, held a hand up in a halting gesture.


"Sit down, Broots." Parker said calmly. "He needs to figure out what's going on." The rest of the group looked up at Jarod curiously for a moment until Parker said. "Debbie, it is your turn."


To Jarod's wide-eyed shock, his captors simply returned to their game, ignoring his attempt to escape. The pretender did not question his luck. He staggered across the last few yards to the door and tugged it open.


Pushing himself off the doorframe and through the open doorway, Jarod found himself standing on an old wooden porch. A painted white railing framed the area and old-fashioned carved posts held up the roof. Rain beat down heavily on the wooden structure making a rhythmic almost hypnotic sound on the shingles. The air was heavy and warm. The day would have been uncomfortably hot if not for the breeze that gusted by with the storm.


Another flash of lightning brightened the sky. The thunder that rolled by in its aftermath was delayed several seconds. When the deep booming sound did come, Jarod's attention was dragged to another figure on the porch. Laughing and clapping with glee at the sound of the thunder, was Angelo.


The shock at seeing his old friend in such an innocuous place was too much for Jarod's fragile condition. His legs gave out from under him and he sat down on the wooden planks with a hard thud. Blinking at the other man in shock, Jarod frowned in confusion.


"Rain, rain, rain, rain." Angelo sang tunelessly. He was sitting on the white railing with one hand wrapped around a wooden post. Swinging back and forth, Angelo would lean way back and allow the raindrops to fall onto his upturned face. Pulling him self back upright, the strange little man would rock under the protection of the porch roof and let the water run down his face to fall from his chin.


Exhausted from his brief escapade out of bed, Jarod stopped trying to make sense out of the situation and lay down on the floor where he sat. He listened to the drumming sound of the rain on the roof and smiled at Angelo's constant singsong chattering nonsense. The warm spring air lifted his hair as Jarod closed his eyes and permitted himself to enjoy the shear pleasure of the moment.


Though the sounds around him did not change, Jarod knew exactly when Parker sat silently beside him. He felt his body tense up, preparing for flight but Jarod had reached the end of his meager endurance. He would not be able to get away today. He resigned himself to that fact.


Eyes still closed, Jarod spoke. "I'm glad you're okay." He said softly.


Much to his surprise, a soft hand rested on Jarod's forehead for a moment as Parker checked his temperature. "I'm glad you're okay too." She said. "You had me worried for a while."


"Gee Parker, I didn't know you cared." Jarod teased gently.


"Yes you did." Parker whispered into his ear.


Jarod wanted to look at her, to study Parker's face and see if she really meant what she was saying. But he was weary. The hand that had rested so tenderly on his forehead now stroked through the hair on one side of his head. The feeling was almost magical and Jarod was loath to open his eyes for fear that she would pull away if he looked at her too closely.


They sat that way for a while. Jarod lying on the wood floor while Parker ran soothing fingers through his hair. Jarod drifted to sleep briefly and when he woke, the rain had stopped and Angelo had vanished. Jarod blinked his eyes open and looked up to see Parker smiling at him.


"Are you hungry?" she asked.


As if in response to her query, Jarod's gut clenched painfully, twisted around and then growled loudly.


Parker's smile grew and she laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." She chuckled.


Jarod stared at her in wonder. Parker seemed so relaxed, so unguarded. Jarod could not remember seeing her smile like that since they were children. For the first time in a very long time, his urge to run from her disappeared.


"It's Broots' turn to cook so I can't vouch for the quality, but diner is just about ready." Parker said. "Let me help you up." She added as she stood and held a hand out to him.


After several attempts, Jarod was able to stand. With one arm slung over Parker's shoulders for support, he began to make his way across the porch and into the cabin. As they reached the door and Parker held it open for him, Jarod glanced at her with a look of wary speculation.


Parker grinned crookedly at the look of befuddled wonder on Jarod's face. "This is all a little weird isn't it?"


Jarod nodded. "I feel like Alice right after she tumbled down the rabbit hole."


This comment brought another delightful peal of laughter from Parker. Jarod immediately decided that making her laugh was the single most rewarding thing he'd ever done.


"Come on, Alice." Parker said in a wry tone. "Let's eat."


With a mental shrug, Jarod allowed Miss Parker to help him back into the house.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.yadda yadda yadda :P




One Good Turn Part 7


Sadness, Silk and a Lumberjack




By Phenyx



Parker rolled over in bed and stretched lazily. Early morning sunshine streamed through the windows. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful spring day.


Parker smiled to herself. She'd had a wonderful night's sleep in this old bed. She'd slept better last night than she had in a long time. The fact that Jarod had relinquished this luxury to spend the night in a sleeping bag on the livingroom floor didn't bother her a bit.


Jarod had been getting better every day. A night on the hard wood wasn't going to send him into any relapse. In the three days that had passed since he'd first gotten out of bed, Jarod's condition had improved dramatically. He ate constantly and slept often. As a result, the pale starved creature he'd been when they had first arrived at the cabin had quickly disappeared.


Parker was still a bit concerned about Jarod's state of mind however. He just didn't seem to be acting like the pretender Parker had always known. Whenever Jarod joined the rest of them in the common livingroom, he seemed wary and unsure of himself. Parker could feel him watching her closely every time he was in the room. Jarod kept to himself for the most part, always quietly and cautiously on guard. He seemed to be waiting for something. It was as though he expected to discover that this entire setting was an elaborate simulation and his performance was being tested somehow.


Only when Jarod was with Angelo did he seem to act more like his old self.


Last night, when Parker had retired for the evening, Jarod and Angelo were lying on the floor in front of the fireplace. With the two sleeping bags situated in a long line in front of the hearth, they had stretched on the floor, sharing the same pillow from opposite directions. Jarod had started a small fire in the fireplace earlier in the evening and had introduced Angelo to the joys of roasting marshmallows. Hopped up on sugar when Parker had left, the two of them were whispering and laughing at each other like little boys at a slumber party.


Poor Sydney, on the couch for the evening, had undoubtedly spent a frustrating few hours trying to get some shut-eye.


Parker sighed and rolled out of bed. It was still very early, just past dawn, but she got up anyway. Parker had never been one to lie around in bed all day. Padding across the room in her bare feet, Parker pulled on the only truly feminine article of clothing she currently owned. The pale yellow silk robe was satiny soft. The kimono style garment clashed horribly with the over-sized T-shirt she'd worn to bed. Stolen from the dryer days ago, Parker felt that the comfortable white cotton undershirt she wore was one of the few perks to living with four men.


Cinching the robe's belt around her waist with a yawn, Parker left the bedroom and made her way into the kitchen. As she passed the couch, she found Sydney snoring deeply so she made an effort to be quiet as she moved through the room. The floor in front of the fireplace was empty.


In the kitchenette, hot coffee had already been prepared and sat ready in the carafe. Two empty bowls, still damp with droplets of milk in the bottom, sat in the sink. An empty box of raisin bran on the counter gave evidence that someone had eaten breakfast already. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who was the culprit.


Quietly pouring herself a mug of coffee, Parker glanced out the window over the sink and saw two figures out back. With a wry smile, Parker took her cup and slipped out the back door. Tucking her robe around her legs, Parker sat on the wooden steps behind the cabin. Though the air was a little cool and dew still sparkled on the grass, the bright sunshine seemed to give the promise of a marvelous day.


Several yards away, hunched on all fours in the grass, Angelo was intently studying a small hole in the ground, occasionally poking at the tiny crevice with a stick. His hair stood up wildly around his head and the knees of his blue jeans were already caked with grass and mud. The long sleeved, hooded sweatshirt Angelo wore was in a similar state of disrepair. But Angelo seemed to be having a ball.


In the other direction, Jarod was standing with his back to Parker, an ax in one hand as he bent to pick up a log of wood. Dressed in jeans and a warm quilted shirt, Jarod balanced the piece of wood on top of a larger stump. With a glance to check on Angelo, Jarod grasped the ax with both hands, brought the blade over his head and with a swift movement brought the ax down on the log with a grunt. The blade embedded itself several inches into the wood and then stuck there.


Grimacing at himself in annoyance, Jarod flipped the ax over, log and all, and smacked the wide end of the ax against the stump. The force of the impact, in conjunction with gravity, served to split the smaller log into two relatively equal pieces that fell to the ground.


Jarod turned to retrieve another log from the pile nearby. As he moved, he saw Parker out of the corner of his eye and nodded in her direction in greeting. Without speaking, Jarod then repeated the task of splitting wood in half. When Jarod looked toward Angelo for the third time during this process, Parker offered, "I'll watch him for a while, Jarod. Pay attention to what you are doing." She chided him.


"Thanks." Jarod replied sheepishly.


Parker sipped quietly at her coffee, keeping an eye on Angelo as Jarod hacked at chucks of wood.


While Jarod was between chops Parker gestured toward Angelo and asked curiously, "What's in the hole?"


Jarod cast her a quick glance. "Chipmunk." was the reply.


"Ah." Parker nodded. Parker finished her coffee and set the empty cup on the step near her feet. Wrapping her arms around her legs and pulling her knees toward her chest, Parker watched over Angelo as Jarod worked nearby.


Jarod was getting irritated, Parker could tell. He was repeatedly forced to flip the ax over and smack it downward in order to loosen a jammed blade. His strength just had not recovered enough to split the wood with the initial blow.


With a frustrated sigh, Jarod huffed and looked up to see Parker grinning at him in amusement. Frowning at her unspoken challenge, Jarod unbuttoned his heavy shirt and shrugged it off of his shoulders. Tossing the quilted chambray over Parker's knees, he returned to his task.


As Parker huddled under the makeshift blanket, she could see that perspiration had dampened the cotton of Jarod's T-shirt between his shoulder blades.


"Jarod," Parker cautioned. "You've been ill. You shouldn't over strain yourself."


He ignored her. Putting another log in place, Jarod raised the ax and heaved with all his might. There was a satisfactory thwacking sound as the log split and two chunks of wood clacked onto the ground. Casting a pleased grin in Parker's direction, Jarod moved to the woodpile and retrieved another log.


Over the next several minutes, Jarod valiantly split log after log, each with a single blow. It wasn't easy for him. Sweat beaded his forehead and his T-shirt began to cling to his body like a second skin. Parker watched the muscles ripple across his back as Jarod brought the ax down over and over.


'Another perk to living with men.' Parker thought to herself as she stared at him.


It didn't take long for Jarod's burst of energy to falter. Panting heavily, Jarod stopped and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of one arm. Seeing Parker's wry smile at his predicament, Jarod frowned at her and asked testily, "Was there something you wanted, Miss Parker?"


Parker shook her head. "Not at all. I'm just admiring the view." She said.


Jarod cocked his head at her in confusion and then glared across the yard to study the scenery. "The landscape is much nicer when seen from the porch out front."


A mischievous smile curled the corners of Parker's mouth. "That depends on what you want to look at."


Jarod frowned for a moment then blinked at Parker in surprise when he realized the flirtatious nature of her comment. Playing along with her, Jarod held his arms out and turned in a circle for Parker's inspection, saying, "Do you approve of this view?"


Grinning slyly Parker purred in a deep husky voice, "Oh yes. Very nice, indeed."


The pretender stared wide-eyed at her for a long moment before shaking his head in astonishment and turning back to the chopping block. When Jarod swung at the log this time, his aim was way off and he missed the log and the stump all together. His momentum threw him forward and Jarod nearly toppled onto the ground.


Parker could not help laughing at the chagrined look on Jarod's face. Brushing off her bottom as she stood up Parker said, "I'll leave you to your task Jarod. Any more distractions and you may chop off your leg."


Still grinning, Parker picked her cup up off the ground and went back into the house. Sydney was standing over the sink with a mug of coffee in one hand as he watched the scene through the window.


"Good morning, Syd." Parker said. "Did you sleep well?"


"Eventually." Sydney answered with a wry grin. "I was about to make some eggs, will you join me?"


Parker poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "I will join you, but I'd rather just have some toast."


Sydney nodded and began gathering the items needed to prepare the light breakfast.


"What is Angelo looking for so intently?" The older man asked.


"Jarod said that it was a chipmunk." Parker smiled.


The two chatted about the weather and similar nonsense for the next several minutes. Sydney quickly whipped up some eggs and toast, then sat with Parker to enjoy a comfortable meal and light conversation. After eating they took their time, sipping languorously at the coffee and even tackling a second pot.


Debbie, in a pair of pink and blue pajamas, stumbled into the room with a yawn and poured herself a bowl of cereal. Her hair hung in tangles about her face as she munched at her frosted flakes. By the time Broots had also joined them at the table the morning was well established.


Sydney began to clear away the first wave of dishes. As he ran soap and water into the sink, Sydney looked out the window with a frown. Moving to stand at Sydney's shoulder, Parker placed a hand gently on his arm and followed his gaze with her own.


Jarod was still out back, chopping wood. Evidently he'd been at it nonstop this entire time. Jarod was perspiring heavily. He had removed his t-shirt and tossed in to the ground nearby. Even from this distance, Parker could see the white stripes across his glistening back where the whip-marks had not completely healed yet. The ax wasn't splitting the logs in one blow anymore. As a matter of fact, Jarod seemed to be having a difficult time getting the blade into the air.


Jarod would heave the ax over his head, smack it against the log and stop to breathe for a moment. Then struggling against the weight, he would turn the handle to pound the ax against the stump and pull the blade free. At this point, it was taking several attempts to split each piece of wood. He looked absolutely exhausted.


Parker frowned. "What is that moron trying to prove?" She growled.


Sydney sighed sadly. "He's in training." At Parker's disapproving glare, Sydney added, "He needs to get back into proper physical condition."


Parker slumped against the counter dejectedly. "He's getting ready to run isn't he?"


Sydney nodded. "The question is whether or not he'll take us with him when he goes."


"Jarod won't leave us behind, will he?" Debbie asked.


"That will be entirely up to Jarod." Sydney replied.


As though mentioning his name had conjured him up, the back door crashed open and Jarod ambled into the room with Angelo in tow. His had put his t- shirt back on and had the quilted shirt tossed over one shoulder. His hair was plastered to his forehead and sweaty rivulets ran down his neck.


Ignoring the sudden silence that fell over the room, Jarod went to the refrigerator and pulled it open with some difficulty. He carefully poured two glasses of orange juice, grimacing with pain as he taxed his weary muscles even further. Handing one to Angelo, Jarod gulped down the other.


"I'm going to take a shower." Jarod declared, rubbing at his lower back with a grimace. "Could someone make sure Angelo doesn't wander off?" Without waiting for an answer Jarod plucked an apple from a bowl on the table. Sinking his teeth into the fresh fruit, he walked over to the master bedroom and disappeared through the door.


Jarod woke slowly, and gradually became aware of soft sounds filtering through the walls. He had come into the bedroom earlier to shower and shave. When he had finished, he sat on the edge of the bed to tie his shoes. At the time, he'd only planned to rest for a moment. His back ached and his shoulders were screaming in pain. He thought he would simply lie back and catch his breath before heading into the kitchen for some aspirin.


Settling back on the unmade bed, Jarod had been mesmerized by the soft fragrance that clung to the pillow. A mixture of jasmine and spice, the aroma was instantly recognizable to Jarod. Jarod had always thought that Miss Parker's distinct scent was a combination of herbal salon shampoo and expensive perfume. He'd even once spent a superfluous weekend attempting to recreate the mixture. But since leaving The Centre, Parker had been using the same shampoo as the rest of them and she didn't have any perfume with her. Yet the tantalizing bouquet still clung to her.


Jarod had buried his face in her pillow and sniffed, telling himself that he was trying to distinguish the specific scents hidden within the combined odor. He'd drifted off to sleep without even realizing it.


Without opening his eyes, Jarod sighed. Curled on his side with his arms against his chest, he could already feel the tightness in his limbs. Getting up and moving around was going to be a painful experience. So he decided to just stay put for a few more minutes.


Listening to the muffled sounds around him, Jarod could hear Sydney talking with Debbie in the next room. Occasionally, Jarod would hear a slapping sound followed by peals of laughter from Debbie and a deep voiced man that Jarod assumed was Angelo. It seemed that Debbie was teaching Angelo some sort of game that she called Slap Jack. Jarod had never heard of it.


A window in the bedroom was open. Jarod could hear birds singing merrily outside. The air had warmed up a bit since this morning. Wearing only a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned cotton shirt, Jarod was still quite comfortable with the temperature in the room.


It seemed so odd, somehow, to be able to hear so much going on. This wasn't like a hotel room or a shabby apartment complex where other strangers shared the building. Jarod was actually living in close quarters with other people. After so many years alone and in isolation, it took some getting used to. Just this morning, Jarod had caught himself drinking his milk straight from the carton. If Parker had caught him she'd have had a cow. It was the little adjustments like that which were the hardest for Jarod to comprehend.


With his eyes still closed, Jarod became aware of a sound that he couldn't immediately identify. It was a wet sound, like the occasional lapping of waves against the side of a small boat. Quickly dripping water, followed by another rippling sound forced Jarod to open his eyes in curiosity.


Jarod didn't need to move. Positioned in one corner of the room was an old- fashioned, full-length mirror. The mirror was held in an ornate wooden frame with a pivot point holding it to a sturdy carved stand. From Jarod's vantage point, he could readily see the mirror and the reflection within.


The bathroom door was ajar and Miss Parker was lazily soaking in the bathtub. Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, held there with a brown clip. Her position in relation to the door caused her reflection to appear in the large mirror facing Jarod.


He had a wonderful view of Parker's bath. She was actually only visible from the shoulders up. The tub itself hid the rest of her body from view. But Jarod's reaction couldn't have been more extreme if he'd seen her standing there naked.


As Jarod watched, one delicate leg rose from the water and perched on the edge of the cast iron tub. Parker sprayed lather from an orange can into her palm and smoothed it over her shin. Using a blue disposable razor, she began to shave her leg.


Jarod abruptly realized that Parker was using the same blade and shaving cream that he'd used on his whiskers a short time ago. Arousal slammed into Jarod's midsection like a physical blow. It was so domestic, so intimate to be using the same toiletries. Parker finished with one leg and then repeated her task on the other. Jarod felt his mouth go dry.


When Parker was done, she dropped the razor to the floor and eased back into the water. She glanced up and looked straight at the mirror. Jarod froze. Too stunned to even bother feigning sleep, Jarod stared at her reflection like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Parker's lips curled with a mischievous grin.


"Do you approve of this view?" She purred seductively.


Jarod swallowed hard and had to clear his throat before his voice would work. "Oh yes. Very nice, indeed." He croaked hoarsely.


Parker's low sexy laughter echoed on the ceramic tile. Jarod felt a shiver of pure lust run down his spine. With a groan, Jarod looked away and pushed himself up off of the bed. He didn't get far. The muscles in his torso were stiff and uncooperative from his extreme workout that morning. When Jarod tried to leave the room, his back protested, sending shooting pains throughout his body. Jarod gasped in pain as one knee buckled beneath him. Unable to react quickly enough to catch himself, Jarod stumbled and fell to the floor with a crash.


Lying in a helpless heap, Jarod stared at the ceiling in an anguish of embarrassment. He heard Parker call out to him in concern. "Jarod?"


"I'm okay." He moaned dejectedly.


"Bullshit." She replied.


Jarod heard the plug pop in the drain and the distinct sounds of Parker standing and stepping out of the tub. He knew that if he turned his head to the right just a bit, he would be able to see her full reflection in the mirror. Jarod squeezed his eyes shut as desire wrapped itself into a hard coil in his stomach.


A moment later, a warm, wet hand touched his face. "Jarod? Did you hit your head?"


"No." he whispered.


"Can you get up?" Parker asked.


Jarod sighed. "Probably not."


Parker huffed at him in frustration. "I told you not to over do it." She scolded.


Jarod sighed again without comment.


"Come on," Parker ordered as she hauled on his arm.


Jarod was forced to open his eyes as Parker helped him off of the floor. She was sopping wet, her silky robe wrapped around her dripping body. In certain areas, the robe clung enticingly to Parker's skin and had become slightly transparent from the water.


Jarod groaned.


Angling his trajectory just so, Parker released Jarod's arm and let him flop backward on to the bed. He gasped at the pull on his sore muscles.


Parker rolled her eyes in irritation. "Roll over." She commanded.


Jarod obeyed with some difficulty, rolling onto his stomach. At least with his back to her, Jarod would not be tempted by the sight of Parker's damp body through her robe. Not looking at her would make the situation easier to deal with. A moment later, Jarod realized just how wrong he could be.


Sliding his shirt from his shoulders, Parker began to massage the muscles of Jarod's back and shoulders. Never had Jarod experienced such an erotic combination of pleasure and pain at the same time. Parker's hands were soft but strong as she kneaded his flesh in all the right spots. As if by magic, her fingers found the tightest spots and rubbed them until the soreness seeped away.


Working silently, Parker straddled Jarod's thighs in order to apply pressure with the heels of her hands to the latissimus muscles along Jarod's ribs. He gasped as she pressed at a particularly tender area.


"Does it hurt?" She asked nonchalantly.


"Yes." Jarod hissed through clenched teeth.


"Good." Parker said, emphasizing her words with a rough shove at his back. "You deserve every ache and pain. What were you trying to accomplish anyway?" She growled.


"I was chopping firewood." Jarod mumbled into the pillow beneath him.


"A week ago, you couldn't lift your head to eat and today you think you are a lumberjack." Parker admonished.


"I haven't got time to lie around like an invalid, Parker." Jarod said. His words came out sounding harsher than he had intended.


"I didn't realize that you had somewhere else you needed to be." Parker snapped angrily.


Turning beneath her, Jarod flipped over to stare at Parker in frustration. "What am I supposed to do, Miss Parker? Did you think we could all hide out here indefinitely?" He ground out irritably. "Did you think The Centre would just forget about us?"


"No!" Parker cried defensively. "I just thought we could follow that path you once spoke of so eloquently. Or have you forgotten?"


Jarod grabbed Parker's arms tightly. "I didn't forget, Parker." He said in a soft growl. Holding her this way, with Parker nearly naked and straddling his lap, Jarod felt dizzy with desperate need. Gripping her upper arms in his fingers, Jarod pulled Parker toward him several inches. Her weight shifted, pressing her inner thigh against the hard bulge in Jarod's jeans.


Jarod had a sudden, heady sensation of falling. He had desired Miss Parker in the past. Hell, for years she had been the only female he knew and the sole object of pubescent fantasies. But never had he wanted her as badly as he did at that moment. With her hair tumbled about her head and a wide-eyed look on her face, Jarod felt his desire for Parker pulling at him like a sailor being drawn toward the fateful siren's song.


Jarod's feeling of need was quickly followed by a rush of self-preservation and fear. Years of training couldn't be ignored. Over the past decade, Jarod had been taught that Parker was a dangerous woman. Though logically, Jarod knew she would never intentionally harm him, his gut reaction was still stuck on 'You run and I chase'. Jarod's instinct for self-protection kicked in and he reacted in the only way the pretender had ever learned.


Shoving Parker off to one side, Jarod sat up quickly. Ignoring the stiffness still lingering in his back, Jarod snatched his shirt and shoes from the floor and fled from the room.


Pulling his shirt on as he stormed across the livingroom, Jarod hurried toward the front door. He heard Parker call to him as she came from the bedroom.


"Jarod!" She growled. "Don't you dare run from me!"


Sydney and Broots exchanged a look of surprise at the other pair's awkward state of dress but neither voiced an opinion about the situation.


Ignoring Parker's outburst and the stunned looks from the other two men in the room, Jarod headed outside, slamming the door behind him. Stomping across the porch, his shoes dangling from one hand, Jarod felt his legs itching to run. Adrenaline pumped through him and he looked around frantically, calculating his options.


"Those turning points are so much easier to deal with when your life isn't the one changing." a soft voice stopped Jarod in his tracks.


Jarod sighed and sat down in the grass to put on his shoes. He took his time, carefully tying the knots and doing his best to calm down before he looked up at her. Parker stood over him in her robe, arms folded over her chest.


"What to you want from me, Miss Parker?" Jarod said in resignation.


"A little gratitude would be nice." She huffed at him. "There's a houseful of people here who have walked away from everything in order to save your sorry ass."


Jarod rolled his eyes. "I am so sorry your glacial majesty!" He growled sarcastically. "Nearly drowning in an ice cold river must have damaged my brain." He added meaningfully. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't been so damned stubborn."


"Look who's being stubborn!" Parker cried, stomping her foot.


"I learned from the best." Jarod hissed.


With a heavy sigh, Parker plopped down in the grass beside Jarod. "I don't want to fight with you, Jarod." She said softly.


Jarod scoffed rudely.


Parker stared at the pretender intently. "Jarod." She said. "You were the one who said I should leave The Centre. You wanted me to go with you. I thought you would be relieved that I've finally found a new path."


Jarod shook his head sadly. "This isn't what I meant, Parker."


Frowning, she said. "I don't understand."


Gesturing helplessly toward the cabin behind them Jarod asked, "How do we protect them, Parker? You and I, we can take care of ourselves. But how can we protect them?"


Parker shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it. You're the genius, you'll figure something out."


Jarod gazed at her with a look of deep sadness. "I already have."


They sat staring at each other for several silent moments, as though communicating volumes through vibrations in the air around them.


Parker lower lip trembled. "You are going to leave us." She whispered.


Jarod's eyes sparkled with moisture and he laughed caustically. "The irony of it is that for the past 6 years, my interaction with you has been the most stable relationship in my life. I'll never see you again and I can't find a way to tell you how much that bothers me."


"You're going to leave us behind." Parker said again accusingly.


"Listen to me, Parker." Jarod said slowly and firmly as though speaking to a child. "They will never stop looking for us. You and Angelo and I are all too valuable. We are the last of the Red Files, aside from Lyle. The Centre will stop at nothing to get us back. We can not stop running."


Jarod paused for a moment to let that sink in.


"Do you really think Angelo can live incognito? He will always draw attention to himself, though he will never do it intentionally." Jarod went on. "How do we hide him without locking him up somewhere just as bad as The Centre was?"


"What about Sydney?" Jarod went on quickly. "They don't want Sydney back. They want Sydney dead. I don't think they will even waste the effort to look for him." Jarod sighed. "There is probably a very lucrative contract out on his head right now. Every bounty hunter and assassin in the country will be looking for him."


Parker blinked in shock as understanding of their predicament began to dawn on her.


But Jarod kept talking. "What about Debbie? I don't know about you but I don't want to be responsible for stealing that little girl's childhood from her. A life on the run is no life for a child. She deserves to have friends, dates, and trips to the prom. Will you deny her those things?"


Parker shook her head sadly as a single tear ran down her cheek. "What do you plan to do?" She asked quietly.


Jarod plucked a blade of grass and twiddled it between his fingers. "I don't think The Centre will look for Broots too intensely. In their eyes, he's just a peon, not worth wasting time over. I think we can create new identities for him and Debbie. As long as they lay low, they should be able to live relatively normal lives."


"Sydney and Angelo are a different story." Jarod went on. "Let's face it, neither of them would last long on his own. Someone needs to look after them. Someone strong and smart needs to stay with them and protect them from whatever may come along."


Jarod stared at Parker meaningfully.


"Why me?" Parker asked. "You could protect them better than I can."


"Because I am the bigger prize." Jarod answered simply. "If I leave a trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow, they will chase me. The three of you can keep a low profile. They won't be able to find you because it will be so easy to follow me instead."


Parker stared at Jarod in astonishment. "You'll act as a decoy so that we can get away."


Jarod nodded. "It will work." He said confidently.


"For how long?" Parker whispered.


Jarod sighed. "For as long as necessary." He answered.


Parker looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. All Jarod had ever wanted for her was to rid her face of that sadness. Looking at her now, Jarod felt his earlier desire melt away, replaced by a deep need to protect her from all of this. He wanted to shield Parker from the loneliness that he'd been forced to endure, but he knew that he could not. Fate had never been kind to either of them in that area. The connection between Parker and Jarod would always be there, preventing any meaningful relationship with anyone else. Yet it seemed they were doomed to spend their lives apart, running from a destiny that had been written long before either of them had been born.


Angelo suddenly appeared beside them, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot savant that he was.


"Another way." Angelo giggled. "Angelo knows another way."


Jarod sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Another way for what, Angelo?" he said patiently.


Angelo giggled again and clapped his hands. Sitting cross-legged beside Jarod, the empath rocked excitedly back and forth. "A way to be safe. All be safe." Angelo said.


Jarod frowned. "How?"


Leaning forward conspiratorially, Angelo whispered, "Stop running."


Jarod and Parker blinked at each other in confusion. "If we stop running, they will catch us." Parker said gently.


Angelo shook his head, his hair flying in all directions. "Stop running." He repeated. "Now WE chase."


Jarod thought about that for a moment. "We go on the attack. Get them before they get us." He said slowly.


Angelo nodded excitedly. "We get them." He agreed.


Jarod shook his head. "It's risky, very risky. There are only the five of us."


Angelo put one hand on Jarod's knee. "Alone, each of us can be dangerous." Angelo said with a firm lucidity. "Together we are an army."


Parker could see the wheels turning in Jarod's head as he began to process the scenarios. When his eyes began to sparkle mischievously, Parker knew that he was beginning to believe in the possibility.


Jarod glanced at Parker. "You're in charge of this little outlaw brigade of ours. Ultimately we'll do whatever you decide."


Parker pondered for a moment. "Do you think we can pull this off?" She asked Jarod.


He shrugged. "Angelo has a point. The Centre has trained us very well." Jarod nodded. "I think we have a chance. It might be remote, but it is a chance."


Parker nodded in agreement.


Sitting in a triangle in the grass, the three Centre offspring began to plot its demise under the bright sunshine of a warm spring day.

One Good Turn Part 8


Partnership and Fury



By Phenyx



"Why don't the ice cream vendors sell their wares at night?" Jarod asked melodramatically. "I'm starving." He sighed heavily and shook his head. Leaning casually against a large tree, Jarod's dark clothes helped to blend him in seamlessly among the shadows.


It was well after midnight. The swings and slides of the nearby playground equipment had been abandoned to the night many hours ago. The soccer fields and sandboxes seemed ominous in a way. As if when deprived of the laughter of children, joy had fled this place, leaving only blackness and sorrow in its wake.


Jarod stood shrouded in that blackness, waiting. He was waiting for evil and the air seemed to quiver with the knowledge that the devil himself was coming.


"How can you think about your stomach at a time like this?" A disembodied voice whispered into Jarod's ear.


"I can think about ice cream," Jarod said to the empty air around him. "Or, I can think about how I am about to get my head blown off." He paused. "I prefer thinking about the ice cream."


"If you have doubts about this Jarod, we should go. Now." Parker's voice was clipped and brittle with tension.


"Are you ready?" Jarod asked in a soothing voice, trying to ease Parker's uneasiness.


"As ready as I'll ever be." Parker said.


Jarod put one finger to his ear, adjusting the radio receiver hidden there. "Are you sure you can do this?"


"Just stick to the plan Wonder-boy. I'll hold up my end." Parker growled. "Where are they?" She added in exasperation a moment later.


Jarod flashed a crooked grin toward the nearby hill where he knew Parker was hiding. "Patience, Miss Parker. Patience." He understood her anxiety. Jarod was just as nervous as Parker, but he hid it well. There was power in fearlessness and he would need that power in the next few minutes.


In the past twenty-four hours, their little band of misfits had begun a covert operation designed to weaken the enemy. Here, in this empty park, they would commence with a full frontal assault. It was time to make their declaration of war.


"Car." Parker hissed. "Coming from the south."


With a smooth motion, Jarod stepped back and completely vanished in to the shadows.


Sam eased the limousine to a stop near the playground as instructed. Hurrying out of the car, he was just in time to hold the rear door open as Mr. Lyle and Mr. Raines stepped onto the pavement. Willie and another sweeper exited the car on the opposite side.


'To hell with them,' Sam thought. 'They can hold their own damned door.'


Sam looked about warily. No one had told him what had brought the group to a deserted park in the middle of the night. And Sam hadn't asked. Sweepers who asked too many questions tended to not be sweepers for very long. They usually didn't remain breathing for long either.


Sam half expected this little midnight drive to finally be his personal ticket to the missing persons file. Miss Parker's disappearance just over a month ago had sent The Centre into a tailspin of accusations and recriminations. She had simply walked away, taking most of her team with her. Among those who knew the facts, there was a great deal of debate as to whether Miss Parker had stolen the missing pretenders or the two of them, Jarod and Angelo, had helped each other escape in a separate scenario.


As one of Miss Parker's frequent employees, Sam had been thoroughly questioned. He'd been dragged in front of a T-board and grilled for hours. He assumed that his days at The Centre were numbered at this point. He figured that they were going to pop him here in the park. That would explain the presence of Willie and his friend. Sam had seen the other fellow around but hadn't bothered to remember his name.


Sam stood obediently at Mr. Lyle's side. If this corpse-fucking madman was going to murder him tonight, then so be it. But Sam wouldn't give the lunatic the satisfaction of showing any fear. Sam was one of The Centre's best, and he knew it. That was why Miss Parker chose him.


Nearly twenty years had passed since Mr. Parker had pulled Sam from juvenile hall. Plucked from a cell riot in the midst of a knife fight with a rival gang, Sam had been prepared to kill or be killed that day. Sam had stayed in that same sense of readiness ever since. He wasn't afraid.


"Good evening, gentlemen." A deep voice purred from the darkness.


Sam pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it toward the shadows as did the other two sweepers. Mr. Lyle and Mr. Raines both turned with expectant looks on their faces.


Jarod seemed to appear from nothingness. He had a 9mm in one hand, pointed at Mr. Lyle. The lazy grin on the pretender's face made Sam nervous.


"Put that gun away, Jarod." Mr. Raines hissed. "We all know that you won't use it."


Mr. Lyle shook his head. "You're not going to shoot anyone, Jarod." Lyle grinned. "You haven't got the heart for it. You're too soft." He added wickedly.


"You're probably right." Jarod said with a shrug. Much to the surprise of his audience, Jarod calmly tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants.


Sam's sense of caution multiplied dramatically. The sneaky little lab experiment was up to something. Sam just knew it. As the cocky grin on Jarod's face grew, Sam became certain that serious trouble was brewing.


"But," Jarod said, whispering conspiratorially. "She doesn't have that problem." Jarod smiled beautifully. "Do you have any idea how badly she wants to put a bullet between your eyes, Lyle?"


Sam saw the red dot on Lyle's forehead before any of the others noticed it. Sam's admiration for his former employer grew as he realized that Miss Parker had a laser guided scope rifle trained directly on Mr. Lyle.


"You're bluffing." Mr. Raines wheezed.


Jarod gave a little shrug. "You were right, Miss P." He said. Jarod was obviously wired with Miss Parker listening in on the other end. "We need to show our guests that we mean business. Nothing serious, just get their attention."


The red dot moved swiftly and Sam tried to follow its motion but a heartbeat later, there was a hiss and a sharp poof of sound like a fist hitting a pillow. Sam dropped his gun as a burning shaft of pain sliced through his upper arm. The sound came twice more in rapid succession as Willie and the other sweeper cried out and fell to the ground.


Sam swiftly checked the damage. The bullet had gone through the fleshy part of his arm with no real permanent damage. The wound burned like hell but a tight bandage was all he would need to treat it. Glancing toward the other two sweepers, Sam felt a sense of pride as he realized that Miss Parker had been generous to him. She had known that Sam was there and she had shown him preferential treatment.


Where Sam's wound was little more than an annoyance, the other two men were rolling painfully in the grass. Willie was clutching his thigh where blood flowed freely from an injury located terribly close to the man's family jewels. The third, nameless sweeper stared down at his shattered kneecap in petrified shock.


Mr. Lyle looked down at the injured men contemptuously before he realized that the red dot had relocated to a spot on his lapel just over his heart.


Sam didn't try to retrieve his gun from the ground at his feet. He held his torn arm close to his side and waited for Jarod's next move.


Jarod casually strolled around the group and sat on the hood of the limousine. Swinging one leg lackadaisically, the pretender looked at the other men and raised his eyebrows. "Any questions class?"


"What do you want, Jarod?" Mr. Raines growled.


"Oh, nothing." Jarod said. "Nothing at all." The delightful grin reappeared on the pretender's face. "This is an informative gathering, so to speak. We have decided to make some new rules."


"What kind of rules?" Mr. Lyle asked.


"Rules for this little game we've been playing." Jarod said, tilting his head curiously. "You see," He continued. "I'm afraid that Miss Parker doesn't like being hunted. Well, you know how she can be." Jarod said with a shrug. "So from now on, there will be no more pursuits. No more sweepers chasing us across the country, no more photos of me out on the web. In essence, the party is over. I'm taking the game ball and I'm going home."


Mr. Lyle scoffed. "What makes you think we would agree to any of this?"


Jarod's grin sent wary shivers down Sam's spine.


"I think you will agree that it is time for us to end our acquaintance." Jarod purred. "As a matter of fact, I believe that in the next two or three months, you'll be willing to pay me large sums of money to go away."


Mr. Lyle and Mr. Raines glanced at each other. Jarod was threatening them and they were only just now beginning to realize it.


"You people taught me to be anything I want to be." Jarod said in a low, dangerous voice. "Now I've decided that I want to be your worst nightmare."


"You can't defeat The Centre." Mr. Raines gasped.


"Watch me." Jarod smiled. Glancing at his watch, Jarod pushed away from the car he was leaning on. "Our time is nearly up. I just need to make you aware that the uncomfortable conference call you will be having in the morning is just a small demonstration of what is to come."


Mr. Lyle scoffed. "There is no such call scheduled for tomorrow."


Jarod winked knowingly at the other man. "I suggest you arrive at work early." Jarod turned and strolled toward the shadows.


Once Jarod turned his back, Mr. Lyle moved to grab him. The soft hissing sound came immediately and a chunk of grass and soil jumped at Mr. Lyle's feet. The entire group cast their gaze toward the nearby hill, looking for the origin of the gunshots. When they looked back again, Jarod had disappeared.


"Damn." Mr. Raines whispered.


"Oh, Lyle." Jarod's amused voice called to them through the darkness. "Good luck with that IRS audit next week."


The look of shock on Mr. Lyle's face blended so beautifully with helpless rage that Sam nearly laughed out loud. With effort, Sam was able to keep a straight face. Moving cautiously, so as not to bring too much attention to him self, Sam picked up his gun and returned it to the holster. He helped the wounded men into the car and waited expectantly for Mr. Raines and Mr. Lyle.


Once everyone had piled into the limo, Sam put the car in gear and maneuvered the vehicle out of the park. He had a bullet hole in his arm and blood was ruining his suit. He'd been shot but Sam was still alive. That was a hell of a lot more than he had expected from this evening.


Not only that, but Sam had also gained a new respect for the courage of the nut case he'd been chasing for the past six years.


At that moment, the nut case in question was riding shotgun in a silver jaguar as it sped down the deserted highway. Eyes bright with excitement, Jarod grinned delightedly and grabbed the dashboard as the car screamed around a curve.


Jarod glanced toward the driver's seat. Parker had the wheel clasp firmly in both hands as she expertly operated the powerful vehicle. She wore a grim look on her face and checked the rearview mirror repeatedly for signs of pursuit.


Jarod couldn't stop smiling. Everything had gone exactly as planned. Now that the danger had passed, Jarod felt an adrenaline rush similar to the feeling of parachute jumping. With Parker driving like a demon through the night, Jarod felt a surge of triumph so strong he felt like he could fly if he tried.


The car slowed imperceptibly as Parker shot a look at Jarod out of the corner of her eye.


"Do you realize that you are grinning like an idiot?" She growled at him.


Jarod bubbled with laughter. "I can't help it." He said. "That felt great."


Parker sighed and Jarod's elation diminished a few notches. Parker wasn't as thrilled with the evening's events. Jarod knew it was difficult to shoot at another human being. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd been forced to do it. Jarod hadn't wanted Parker to be the shooter tonight. He knew that this would bother Parker and he had tried to protect her from it.


But the situation had demanded strong measures. Lyle and Raines only understood violence. When Jarod had originally simmed these events, he had reversed the roles that he and Parker played in the scenario. However, when he had shared the plan with Parker and the others, they had argued this point.


Parker was undoubtedly the better shot they had claimed. And ultimately it would be more difficult to convince The Centre henchmen that their lives were at stake if it was Jarod behind the trigger. To Lyle and Raines, Jarod would always be the experimental lab-rat that they could control. Parker on the other hand, had been and always would be a dangerous rival.


In the end, Jarod had been out voted. The group had decided that Parker should be the one to handle the rifle and Jarod would do the talking. The pretender had been rather annoyed. He'd never had his plans altered in such a fashion. In the past, Jarod's simulations had been led, tested and completed by Jarod alone. He was not used to collaboration.


Jarod had exhibited his distress by pouting for the better part of an afternoon. But Parker had ignored his sulking while Sydney and Broots both wisely chose to stay on neutral ground. The other members of their little group had quickly learned to stay out of middle of any disagreement between Jarod and Miss Parker.


The troubling fact was, as their time together wore on, Parker and Jarod tended to argue more frequently. There were times when the two of them seemed so in tune with each other that words between them were unnecessary. But at other times, they railed at one another like bitter enemies.


Jarod had quickly learned that their little clan was devoutly loyal to Miss Parker. Each person in the group would support the pretender's endeavors, but aside from Sydney on occasion, no one would oppose Parker's wishes. Jarod retaliated at such times by becoming withdrawn and sullen. His reaction was childish, Jarod knew. He was just having a little trouble adjusting to the fact that his thoughts and needs were not always going to be the same as the rest of the group. Jarod had spent the last thirty years being the focal point of a lot of people's lives. It had resulted in a slightly self-centered view of the world. Changing wasn't going to be easy.


To make matters worse, Parker would gloat whenever she won an argument. And it irritated Jarod immensely. Jarod dealt with this annoyance by needling Parker at every opportunity. Their relationship had quickly degenerated into a ridiculous battle of wills over trivial things.


Jarod realized that they were making the other members of their group uncomfortable with the situation. Sydney in particular tended to get caught in the middle of the battle. Jarod felt badly about it and tried not to involve Sydney, but like children fighting for the favor of a parent, Jarod and Parker seemed to constantly struggle for Sydney's approval.


Jarod abruptly noticed a sign at the edge of the highway and said, "There's a Denny's at the next exit."


"So?" Parker asked coolly.


"They're open twenty-four hours a day." Jarod responded. "I think they have ice-cream on the dessert menu."


"We are not stopping." Parker snarled.


The last of Jarod's good mood vanished. For the next week, he and Parker would be forced to work together with no one around to run interference between them. The next few days would be fraught with danger. The others were hiding out in a safe place while Jarod and Parker were taking all the risks. It had been decided that the two of them had a better chance of success and would make a more intimidating impression than any of the others.


Jarod wasn't going to let Parker reign over him for the rest of this week. He was risking his life for her. The least she could do is show him a little kindness.


"I am hungry." Jarod said slowly and firmly as though he was talking to a small child.


"You are always hungry, Jarod." Parker sighed. "We have to be in Washington in two hours. Do you want to miss our flight?"


"We won't miss it." Jarod groused. "Besides, we can always catch another flight."


"No." Parker clipped.


Jarod sighed. "Why don't you let me drive for a while? You could get some rest."


"Nice try, Franken-rat." Parker said wryly. "Forget it."


Jarod made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. He crossed his arms over his chest and hunched down in his seat.


"Oh, act your age." Parker hissed icily. "You're sulking like child."


Jarod turned and silently studied Parker's profile for several long minutes. After a long pause, he tilted his head to one side and said softly, "This isn't going to work, is it?"


"What?" Parker asked anxiously. "The plan? It's working fine so far."


Jarod shook his head. "No, no. I think that will all go exactly as we figured it would." Jarod turned and stared out the window to watch the blackness zoom by. "I mean this." His hand fluttered meaningfully between the two of them. "This thing we have going between us just isn't going to work."


Parker was silent for a long time. "You are going to leave." She finally said quietly. "When this is all over, you will leave."


"Do you want me to?" Jarod asked bluntly.


Parker shrugged. "That's entirely up to you."


"Don't pull that crap with me, Parker." Jarod said with a caustic laugh. "I know you better than anyone else. I know how frightened you are."


"Frightened?" Parker snarled cruelly. "Of a guinea pig like you? Not hardly."


"You're scared to death." Jarod said gently. "Because I've gotten passed those walls you built so carefully around your heart. For so very long you hid behind those walls, all alone, while the rest of the world was locked out on the other side. But I'm not locked out anymore, am I Parker?"


Jarod tilted his head and looked at her inquisitively, as though he could see right through her. A sad smile curled the corners of his mouth.


"You turn around and there I am, so close, so very close." Jarod's voice dropped to a low whisper. Reaching out, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She flinched away from him. Jarod's grin grew. His words had hit their mark. He went on. "It startles you to find me so near. In response, you slam that emotional door in my face again and again in the hopes that one day I'll simply go away."


Jarod leaned toward her within the confines of the car. She couldn't step away from him. There was nowhere to go. Parker's body was rigid with tension. Jarod had the upper hand this time and he knew it. Whispering erotically into her ear Jarod purred. "But I won't go away Parker. There can be thousands of miles of distance between us and I will still be closer to you than anyone else will ever be. You need me."


Parker took one hand from the steering wheel. Pressing against Jarod's chest she shoved him back into his seat. Glancing over at him, Parker could see the devilish, triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Bastard." She whispered, struggling to keep her tears at bay.


Parker knew he was right. She wasn't sure which was worse, the fear that Jarod would one day leave or the terrifying knowledge that he couldn't.


Parker lashed out in a defensive reaction. "Who really needs whom in this strange duo?" She ground out between clenched teeth. "Allow me to psychoanalyze you for a moment, why don't you?"


Jarod's smile slid away and he glanced at Parker warily. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this. But Jarod had started the conversation. He had no choice but to see it through.


"You are such a genius." Parker said angrily. "All your life people have told you how brilliant you are. Deep down, you think that your only value to the world is in what your mind can do."


Jarod blinked at Parker cautiously as her tirade spun on.


"When it comes to outsmarting the rest of us you are so confident, so self- assured. But in everything else you're timid and cautious. After all, who could love a freak like this?" She snarled rudely. "That's why you want to find your mother so desperately." Parker hissed. "Like that old saying: 'He's a child only a mother could love.' You think you're unworthy of anyone else."


Parker glanced away from the road long enough to flash a tear-filled glare in Jarod's direction. The words came tumbling out of her mouth with no thought. She couldn't stop them. "All the horrible things you thought up, all those people who died. You honestly believe you need to pay penance for what was done to you. That's why you've never gone after The Centre before now. Part of you believes you deserved what they did to you."


Jarod waited quietly for Parker to catch her breath after her outburst. "Are you finished?" he said coldly.


Parker's silence hung like thick fog in the car.


"We have a real talent for hurting each other, don't we?" Jarod asked gently.


Parker stared intently at the road ahead.


"Why do we do that?" Jarod asked. "There has been so much pain in our lives. Such loneliness. There is not another person in the world who understands my sorrow like you do." Wide brown eyes stared sadly at Parker in the dim light. "Why do we push each other away so fiercely?"


Jarod saw the single tear that escaped and rolled down Parker's cheek. But she didn't answer.


The rest of their trip to D.C. was made in silence.


-


"Would you like another blanket, Sir?" the pretty blonde flight attendant asked.


Jarod smiled at the girl. "No, we're fine. Thank you."


Congratulating himself on springing the extra cash for first class seats, Jarod stretched out as well as he could and snuggled down to get some sleep. Parker was curled in a warm ball at his side, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane had left the ground. She had a blanket tucked around her and her head pillowed against Jarod's shoulder. Jarod carefully pulled one corner of the shared blanket across his body. Not that he was cold. He was simply enjoying the sensation of being close to Parker in this relaxed and unguarded way.


Though the drive in had been tense and uncomfortable, once they had reached the airport, they had fallen into their cover roles with the ease of a long time partnership. Posing as a married couple headed to a missionary school in Africa, the argument in the car had seemed to vanish as Parker smiled and chatted amiably with other travelers waiting with them in the queue at the check in desk.


They had arrived with plenty of time to get through security before their flight. Jarod had finally found an open snack stand and had gotten his ice cream. Parker had rolled her eyes at him melodramatically when she'd seen him savoring his treat. They had fallen into a playful, teasing banter that Jarod thoroughly enjoyed.


"Is it good?" Parker had asked, gesturing toward the soft serve cone.


"Excellent." Jarod had hummed. "Better than sex."


Parker had grinned at him with her eyebrows raised in surprise. "If you think ice cream is better than sex, then you must be doing something wrong."


Jarod chuckled. "I've never had any complaints." He had answered laughingly.


Parker had leaned toward him conspiratorially and said, "But you haven't had too many repeat customers either."


"Hey, that's not true." Jarod had defended himself. "I had a semi-steady girl friend once."


"Once." Parker had nodded knowingly. "Not a very impressive resume, Jarod."


"I get the job done." Jarod had purred.


Dozing now on the plane, Jarod smiled again as the remembered sound of Parker's giggle wafted through his mind. Jarod hovered in that elusive place between wakefulness and sleep. He was aware of other travelers talking quietly, the flight attendants moving about and the steady rhythmic hum of the engines. But his senses focused on the soft warmth pressed against his ribs and the featherlike touch of the hair brushing against his chin. The scent of jasmine and spice wafted to his brain.


Warm, comfortable and nearly asleep, in this dreamy half conscious place, Jarod knew that he could never walk away from the incredible creature beside him. She could verbally and emotionally tear him into little pieces for the rest of eternity. Jarod would welcome it. Because for every harsh word and cruel comment they shared, there seemed to be a corresponding smile or tinkling laughter. Jarod would allow Parker to drag his body though broken glass if his reward was another moment like this one, wrapped protectively around her slim curves.


Too close to sleep to realize he was doing it, Jarod turned and brushed his lips across Parker's hair. He snuggled closer to his pretend wife and allowed himself to drift fully into unconsciousness.

One Good Turn Part 9



Sweepers



By Phenyx



Parker strapped the incredibly high-heeled shoes onto her feet, slipped the jacket onto her shoulders and turned to examine her reflection in the full- length mirror. Her suit was a deep burgundy color with a skirt that was embarrassingly short, even by Parker's standards. The tight fitting jacket flared out at the waist, ending a mere half-inch below the hemline of the skirt. Parker's hair was perfectly coiffed and her makeup was impeccable. Her attire effectively conveyed the haughty, regal atmosphere that she had always tried to project at The Centre while at the same time radiating a sensuality that would make men stare.


That was the point after all. Parker was going to be the distraction that would get Jarod into the Triumvirate headquarters. Parker had tried on several outfits before Jarod had decided that this one would best suit their purposes. She had felt like a piece of meat as he had studied her intently. Twirling in a circle for him when he demanded it, she had wanted to throttle the pretender as he had dismissed one suit after the other.


The poor girl waiting on them in the Paris dress shop had caught on quickly. It had taken her all of fifteen minutes to learn that Parker's opinion of the offered clothing meant nothing. Jarod was the one who would be paying the bills so the salesgirl had begun showing the options to him rather than Parker.


Parker had been to Europe many times and had spent her high school years in a boarding school in Switzerland. So Parker spoke fluent French. Yet Jarod had laughing joked with the sales girl in her native tongue, making the girl believe that Parker was an ignorant American with no grasp of the French language. The entire experience had been both humiliating and infuriating.


Once they had found the little burgundy outfit, Jarod had finally nodded appreciatively. Mumbling something about "Dangerous legs", Jarod had paid the salesgirl extra to rush the tailoring and then calmly ushered Parker out of the store. As they walked down the busy street in search of a shoe store, Parker had vented her frustration at him.


They had hollered at each other on the street corner for nearly ten minutes before either realized that they were arguing in French.


Now, two days later, Parker stared at herself in the mirror. They had arrived in South Africa in the wee hours of the morning but the hotel still had their suite of rooms prepared. Coming here and using her real name had been a gamble. But the Parker name still held power with the Triumvirate. That power, along with a calculated flash of her thighs, was going to get them past the guards.


Jarod had been confident that Raines and Lyle were both doing their best to hide Parker's disappearance from the Triumvirate. Her vanishing act would have cast doubt on Raines' ability to control his own people. So he would have gone out of his way to keep Parker's defection a secret. As usual, Jarod had been right.


This morning, Parker had a meeting scheduled with the Triumvirate council to discuss "new information" pertaining to The Centre.


A single sharp rap sounded at Parker's bedroom door.


"Your limousine has arrived, Miss Parker." Jarod voice said perfunctorily through the wooden panel.


Parker checked her reflection one last time before taking a deep breath and striding confidently into the next room. What she saw there shocked her so badly she nearly stumbled.


Jarod had cut his hair since Parker had seen him a few hours ago. Styled in a nondescript business-like fashion, his brown hair was several inches shorter than it had been last night. The thick wavy locks no longer flopped forward rakishly as it had before.


But the haircut wasn't the only change. Jarod wore a stern black suit and a matching tie. Tailored to accentuate the width of his shoulders, the suit had that strange cut to it that all professional hit men recognized. The suit was made to hide the holster and weapon concealed at Jarod's side.


Dark sunglasses topped off the ensemble, hiding Jarod's deep brown eyes. He stood with his hands clasped formally behind his back and his legs apart, like a soldier standing at ease while in formation. Jarod's expression and stance radiated an overbearing attitude of malice. There was no trace of the grinning, mischievous pretender that Parker knew.


Parker was staring at a sweeper. The change in Jarod was astounding.


Regaining a semblance of composure, Parker nodded once and strode toward the door. As if he'd been doing it for years, Jarod fell into position, walking two steps behind Parker on her right hand side. Riding the elevator to the lobby in silence, Parker felt a new appreciation for Jarod's abilities.


As they left the building, Jarod scanned the street with the eerie preciseness of a surveillance camera. Parker felt a shiver run down her spine. Jarod made a remarkable impression. No one at the Triumvirate facility would question Parker being accompanied by a sweeper. With the current atmosphere at The Centre, more suspicion would have been raised if Parker had come alone. A bodyguard would make her arrival look even more like a routine meeting.


The twenty-five minute drive to the Triumvirate compound was made in silence. Parker tried to stay as calm and collected as Jarod looked, but it was difficult. She couldn't even look to her old friend for support. The friend she had known was gone. In his place sat a cold, hard stranger. Parker realized for the first time in her life that Jarod could be a dangerous man if he chose to be.


They arrived at the compound and Parker showed her identification to the guard at the gates. The limo was waved through without comment. Greeted at the front doors by a mousy looking girl with glasses, Miss Parker was lead through the corridors to the conference room. With her arms crossed and her heels clicking sharply on the tiled floors, Parker made an imposing figure as always. No one bothered to give her tall bodyguard a second glance.


Parker was one of the last to arrive in the Triumvirate council chambers. Intentionally sliding into what was once her father's chair, Parker calmly folded her palms on the tabletop and waited for the rest of the attendees to take their seats. Jarod took a position along the wall at her back, blending in perfectly with the half dozen other sweepers in the room.


The meeting was quickly called to order and Parker found herself being stared at expectantly by the Triumvirate council members.


"We are honored to have you join us today, Miss Parker." The man at the head of the table said smoothly. "We understand that you wished to share information with this group."


Parker turned a cold glare to each person sitting at the table before she spoke. "Gentlemen, and Ladies," Parker nodded toward the one other woman sitting nearby. "The Parker family has been intimately entangled with the Triumvirate for over three generations. As such, I felt that this information could only be brought to you in person out of respect for the close relationship between us." Parker's voice dripped with icy sarcasm.


"We appreciate your devotion, Miss Parker." The president said, ignoring her cynicism.


Parker continued steadily. "Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that, henceforth, the Triumvirate must end its association with The Centre and with the Parker family."


Parker's words caused a stir of shock and disbelief among her audience. It took a full minute for the Triumvirate leader to quiet the group enough to ask, "Miss Parker, would you kindly enlighten us as to why you feel it necessary to end such a profitable affiliation?"


His answer was a quick series of quiet pops as six of the seven sweepers in the room abruptly dropped to the floor, clutching at their throats. Jarod then removed his sunglasses and stepped forward, the silencer on his 9mm still smoking.


"Lock the door, Parker." Jarod said calmly. "And disarm our poor wounded friends."


Parker quickly stood and did as she was told. The sweepers, each shot in the larynx, were bleeding badly, cries of pain and shock came from their ruined throats as little more than gurgling noises. But they were all alive and with an infirmary on the premises, there was little chance that any of the men would bleed to death.


Nonchalantly standing beside the chair that Parker had just vacated, Jarod glanced around the room with a curious look on his face. "Do I need to introduce myself?" he asked the stunned group before him.


"You have a lot of nerve showing up here." One of the men at the table growled.


"I felt that this would be the most obvious way of making my point exceedingly clear." Jarod ginned maliciously.


The Triumvirate president hushed his angry comrade and turned calmly toward Jarod. "Your point is well taken, Jarod." The man said. "This demonstration of your talents is most impressive."


Jarod grinned wickedly. "You haven't seen anything yet." He purred. "As we sit here, talking amiably, further demonstrations are being set in motion. Several of the people in this room are about to suffer considerable personal financial losses on the U.S. stock market. Others will find their identities stolen and sizable credit fraud performed under their names."


Jarod looked around the room with a twinkle of glee in his eyes. "Did you know that there are people out there who will pay for social security numbers? Especially those belonging to wealthy international business people."


"Of course, this will cause some unpleasantness. But in the grand scheme of things, my demonstration will cause little more than some annoyance." Jarod continued.


"What are you trying to prove?" the Triumvirate leader asked in exasperation.


"I have at my fingertips, the knowledge and ability to destroy you, one by one." Jarod hissed icily. "Your money, your property, your reputations are all servants to my whim." He began to prowl thoughtfully around the conference table. "Imagine what would happen if Triumvirate projects and holdings should somehow be leaked to the media? What if Project 117T should suddenly stall in the military appropriations committee?"


Several of the members seated at the table glanced at each other nervously.


Jarod smiled coldly. "I see that you are beginning to understand the situation."


"What do you want from us, Jarod?" The president sighed.


"Nothing." Jarod smiled. "Absolutely nothing. Your association with The Centre will simply end. Any personnel you may have stationed in any Centre facility should be recalled immediately."


The Triumvirate leader stood and leaned angrily on the table before him. "How dare you come in here and make such outrageous demands! The Centre makes up a large percentage of the annual income for the Triumvirate. We will not cease so profitable a venture."


Jarod leaned toward the other man menacingly. In a dangerously quiet voice he said, "I promise you, Sir, it will no longer be profitable. I am no longer a pawn in this little game of yours. I have decided to become a key player."


Pacing back to the other side of the room, Jarod stood meaningfully at Miss Parker's side. "The Centre is currently in upheaval and is about to suffer some devastating financial problems. I strongly suggest that you end your treaty with them. Continue to align yourself with the Centre gentlemen and I assure you, the Triumvirate will share in its demise."


The president smiled slowly in appreciation. "Do you believe you can overthrow Mr. Raines' authority?"


"Yes." Jarod said simply.


"If you succeed," The older man said. "You will have earned the right to take his seat on the Triumvirate."


Parker's jaw dropped. Looking quickly to Jarod for his reaction, Parker was amazed to see that he hadn't even batted an eye. Either he had expected the offer or he was hiding his own shock very well.


Holding out his arms and bowing in a sarcastically submissive gesture, Jarod said. "While the offer is most flattering, Sir, I have no interest in joining the Triumvirate."


"Don't dismiss the possibility so quickly, young man." The triumvirate leader said. "Mull it over for a while. In the meantime, we will turn a blind eye toward The Centre for the time being. We will remain neutral in this little feud of yours."


"You make a wise choice, Sir." Jarod purred. Turning his back on the group of people seated at the table, he took Parker's elbow and walked confidently out of the room.


No one stopped the two as they left the building and made the return trip to their suite at the hotel.

-----



Parker sat in the gray rental car parked at the curb. Her fingers drummed spastically on the steering wheel as a testament to her nervousness. She had been waiting here for Jarod for nearly an hour. Parker wasn't comfortable here. Dover was too close to Blue Cove for her liking. But they had important work to do here.


Parker didn't understand why Jarod had insisted that he do this on his own. The task would have been so much simpler if Parker had gone along or even better, if she had gone by herself. But Jarod had been adamant. Arguing with him had only served to increase Jarod's stance on the subject.


Jarod could be a damn stubborn man when he chose to be. Since they had returned to the States, he'd been frustratingly determined to have his own way.


A suspiciously familiar black sedan sped past the front of Parker's car at the intersection she was facing. With her anxiety rising to an alarming level, Parker started the ignition and frantically scanned the sidewalks for Jarod.


Abruptly bursting from a nearby alleyway, Jarod dashed down the crowded sidewalk at a full speed run. Two steps behind him, struggling desperately with the pace, was Sam, tie loose and flapping over his shoulder. Parker could see Jarod toss a look over his shoulder and gesture in her direction as he swung around a hot dog vendor.


Sam changed direction and started to cross the street at an angle toward Parker's car. Glancing quickly around her position, Parker made mental note of the quickest route away from the scene. Jarod approached the street corner and swerved into the oncoming traffic. Parker's heart slammed into her throat as brakes began to squeal and cars veered away from the running man.


With his black leather jacket fanning behind him like a cape, Jarod nimbly zig-zagged through the careening vehicles. He hopped across the hood of a taxicab and skidded into little red hatchback. A flurry of black suited sweepers poured out of the alley and onto the street. With two quick steps, Jarod was standing on top of the little red car, drawing the attention of the sweepers as they searched the area.


Parker heard the back door open as Sam ducked into the back seat. She had put the car into gear and started moving the car forward moments before the door behind her had slammed shut. Expertly maneuvering around the traffic snarling on the street, Parker headed for the corner just as Jarod leapt to the ground.


Screeching to a stop on the curb, Parker watched as Jarod slid across the hood of her car like a baseball player. Grabbing the open window with one hand, Jarod yelled, "Go!" as he dove head first through the opening.


With the odor of burning rubber stinging her nostrils, Parker yanked on the steering wheel and sped down the road. As they left the chaos behind them, Jarod glanced out the rear windshield.


"I think we lost them." A voice panted from the back seat.


"Are you alright?" Parker asked.


"I'm a little dazed and out of breath but I'll live." Sam answered.


Parker smiled at the sweeper's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Welcome to the team, Sam."

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 10


War and Peace



By Phenyx



"We're there." Jarod said, nudging Parker as he brought the car to a stop.


Once they had picked up Sam in Dover, the trio had retrieved Jarod's car, a sporty all-terrain vehicle, from a storage garage and had driven for the next eighteen hours. Stopping only for food and gasoline, they had each taken a turn at the wheel while the others slept.


As they got out of the car and stretched their sore muscles, Sydney stepped out of the nearby farmhouse and held open the porch's screen door welcomingly.


"We weren't expecting you for several hours yet." Sydney said with a smile.


"We made good time." Jarod shrugged.


Sam looked around the quaint little setting and sighed. "This is real nice." He said. "What a beautiful sunset." He observed.


Jarod looked over his shoulder at the multi-colored horizon as he pulled his backpack from the trunk. "Yea," Jarod snorted disdainfully. "Something about being a free man makes a sunset so much more rewarding, doesn't it?"


Ignoring Jarod's wry attitude, Sydney approached the car and shook Sam's hand. "Welcome, Sam." Turning to Miss Parker, Sydney said, "Did everything go as planned?"


"They nearly caught us." Parker said. "You cut it a little close don't you think?" She hollered at Jarod's retreating form as he breezed passed Broots and went into the house.


Jarod was rummaging through the refrigerator by the time the group caught up to him.


"What went wrong?" Sydney asked with concern.


Shaking a carton of orange juice to find out how much liquid remained, Jarod shrugged. "Nothing went wrong."


Broots glanced back and forth frantically, "There shouldn't have been any sweepers in Dover." He said fretfully. "Sam was on a routine security check at the data annex, no big deal."


Jarod opened the carton and tipped the contents into his mouth before answering. "The sweepers were there," Jarod said. "Because I called them."


"What?" Parker cried. "Why would you do that? If they had caught you after the rendezvous, Sam's life would have been forfeit."


"They didn't catch us." Jarod said, flipping the empty juice carton into the trash. He leaned nonchalantly against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. "As long as he did what he was told, Sam was in no danger."


"Are you mad?" Parker stared at the pretender in shock. "Sam didn't have a clue what was going on! How did you know he would follow your instructions?"


"I didn't." Jarod said calmly. "But he did fine. He followed my orders and everything worked out perfectly."


"You son of a bitch." Parker gasped as the dawning realization crept upon her. "You were testing him."


Jarod stared back at Parker without comment.


"How dare you!" Parker yelled. "You could have gotten him killed! Hell, you could have gotten us all killed you moron!"


Jarod shrugged. "It had to be done, Parker."


"Like hell it did!" she growled. "I know Sam can be trusted or I wouldn't have insisted we go after him."


"I don't have that luxury, Parker." Jarod growled, his voice growing tight with his own anger. "I can't afford to trust Centre employees."


Parker lashed out without thought. Her palm slapped loudly against Jarod's cheek. Debbie gasped from her position in the doorway while the rest of the room grew deadly quiet.


Jarod glared at Parker with hard sharp eyes, refusing to rub at the red mark that was quickly appearing on his skin.


"How dare you?" She repeated as Parker's voice quivered with anger. She slapped him again, hard enough to rock him backward.


Glaring menacingly Jarod growled, "Don't."


"After everything we've gone through." Parker cried. "Everything we've given up for your sake. How dare you?" Her hand flashed across his face a third time.


Suddenly speechless with anger and disappointment, Parker swung her hand at Jarod again. Moving with a quickness that Parker barely saw, Jarod grabbed her wrist in mid-arc, spun around behind Parker and twisted her arm high behind her back.


The kitchen broke out in pandemonium. Debbie screamed, Sydney cried, "Jarod!" Broots put his hands out in front of him in a defensive gesture.


Hissing into Parker's ear from behind, Jarod stated in a deceptively calm voice, "I said, don't."


Sam moved forward to intervene but Jarod quickly stepped back, hauling Parker with him. "Ah, ah, ah." He shook his head. "Stay out of this Sam." Jarod warned.


"Let me go!" Parker demanded. "I mean it, Jarod!"


Jarod grinned evilly. "Careful Parker. I may be forced to break it to prove my point." As if to further accentuate the possibilities, Jarod forced Parker's arm forward a fraction of an inch.


Parker cried out painfully. She was suddenly incredibly aware of the strength Jarod possessed. He could snap her arm like twig if he chose. Never before had Parker internalized the fact that this man was accustomed to pain. He had taken it for thirty years. Logically he would know how to dish it out. And Parker had made the colossal mistake of making him angry.


Jarod's fury is what truly alarmed her now. Parker had never seen Jarod lose his temper before. He had gotten upset when they were on the island in Scotland, just after he realized that he had missed finding his mother. Jarod had been upset and had yelled. But this rage was something far more intense than that had been.


"Jarod," Sydney said quietly. "You're frightening her."


Hard brown eyes glared at the psychiatrist over Parker's shoulder. "That was my intent."


Tilting his head curiously at the younger man, Sydney asked, "Was it?"


With a sigh, Jarod's grasp on Parker loosened and he slouched dejectedly against the counter top. "Not really." He whispered.


Looking morosely at the troubled faces around the room, Jarod heaved another deep sigh. Without another word, he strode across the room and slammed out the back door.

---



It was late, well past midnight, but Parker couldn't sleep. Not even the soothing sound of crickets through the open window could lull her tension- wracked body to sleep. Donning her robe over the dark satin nightshirt she wore, Parker padded barefoot down the stairs toward the kitchen for a glass of juice.


Curling up on one end of the worn couch, Parker reveled in the solitude of the darkened farmhouse. The window beside her was open allowing a comfortable night breeze to blow passed her. Gazing into the darkness outside, Parker could see a hundred flashes of light as lightning bugs danced across the yard. Spring seemed to have slipped away, replaced by early summer. The night was warm enough to warrant leaving the windows open but the uncomfortable heat and humidity of August was still more than a month away.


Parker sat quietly with her cup and listened to the wind chimes on the porch. Just on the other side of her window, the metal chimes sang softly in the gently whispering wind.


As relaxing and mellow as her surroundings seemed to be, Parker could not ease the anxiety from her limbs. Her hand ached forebodingly, reminding her of the horrid scene in the kitchen with Jarod. As far as Parker knew, no one had seen the pretender since he had stormed out of the house.


In the back of her mind, Parker knew that she was waiting for Jarod to return. Much of her tension was caused by the niggling thought that he might never come back. Ultimately, she couldn't blame Jarod for leaving. She had done a fine job of chasing him away. Time and time again he had approached her with kindness but Parker had reacted in her typical style.


Parker had done the same thing with Tommy all those years ago. Early on in their relationship, she had been nice to Thomas Gates just often enough to keep him interested. But each time he had displayed affection or tenderness, Parker had cruelly pushed him away. It was only Tommy's persistence that had finally worn down her defenses. Tommy had worked so hard to get close to Parker, and he'd been rewarded for his trouble with a bullet in his brain.


Jarod too, was a persistent creature. Parker had been yanking his chain for decades. But even Jarod's patience must have its limits. His tolerance had been wearing thin, Parker knew. His sharp retorts and cutting remarks had been increasing over the past few weeks. It was only a matter of time before they both said things they'd never be able to take back.


Parker sat in the dark for nearly an hour, brooding morosely over the discordance between her and Jarod. She had just decided to go back to her room when she noticed that the lightning bugs had abruptly ceased their twinkling. A tall figure was making its way across the yard. As the shadow approached the porch steps, moonlight illuminated his face.


Jarod stood at the foot of the porch steps, staring grimly at the house. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the door. But rather than entering, Jarod veered left and plopped down on the wooden porch swing. Parker watched him through the screen on the window as Jarod began swinging slowly back and forth.


Jarod suddenly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He punched in several numbers and put the device to his ear. From her vantage point on the other side of the window, Parker could not only see him, but she could also easily hear Jarod's voice when he started to speak.


"Did I wake you?" Jarod asked in a low voice.


Jarod paused while the person on the other end of the line answered.


"No," Jarod said. "I'm not in town. As a matter of fact, I'm several states away. Same time zone though. I just needed to hear a friendly voice."


Jarod sprawled out on the porch swing. Pillowing his head on the crook of his arm, he leaned against one arm of the swing. With one leg still planted firmly on the ground, he lazily pushed the swing into a gentle rocking motion as he talked.


"I'm just stressed out I guess." He shrugged. "My new boss has really been riding my ass the last couple of weeks."


Parker's gut twisted guiltily at the weariness in Jarod's voice.


The other person said something that made Jarod laugh. His soft deep laughter took on a sensuous tone and Parker realized that Jarod was talking to a woman. The awareness sat like a lump of cold ice in Parker's chest.


Tears sprang to Parker's eyes. She wanted to run, she didn't want to hear anymore. But if she moved now, Jarod would notice her and her embarrassment would only multiply.


"Talk to me, Zoë." Jarod purred. "Take my mind off my troubles for a little while."


Parker vaguely recognized the name from Jarod's file at The Centre. Anger flared in Parker then abruptly flashed out. How could she blame Jarod? Parker had been foolish enough to believe that she alone had been the recipient of Jarod's late night phone calls. Why would she have thought that Jarod had no other interests?


As Parker watched, Jarod sat up with alarm.


"Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?" He asked with concern.


Returning to his reclining position with a sigh of relief Jarod said, "Well that's good. I hope you were wearing your seatbelt."


Parker gritted her teeth at the caring sound in Jarod's voice.


"Oh no!" Jarod cried in disappointment. "Not the convertible."


Jarod paused a long while as Zoë talked.


"Get it fixed anyway." Jarod said as he started the swing moving again. "Forget what the insurance company says."


There was another pause.


"Zoë," Jarod growled playfully. "You can not let that convertible go."


After Zoë's response Jarod said firmly, "Get it fixed. I'll pay for it."


Jarod laughed. "Of course, I mean it. I have some very fond memories of that car." He voice dropped to a low sultry murmur, "Especially of the back seat."


Parker felt hot stabs of anger searing through her. A moment later, she recognized the feeling for what it truly was. Jealousy coiled in her like venomous snake.


As Jarod continued his conversation with the girl on the phone, Parker could see the serene smile on his face. The girl was doing most of the talking as Jarod's eyes slid shut and his side of conversation turned into a series of single syllable replies.


Parker wanted to weep. Jarod obviously had tender feelings for this unseen girl. The implied knowledge that Jarod had been sexually involved with the girl, Parker found to be annoyingly hurtful.


Jarod yawned and sat up as the conversation wound down. "Yea, I'd better go too." He said. "Take care of yourself, Zoë. Try to stay out of trouble."


Jarod chuckled at the girl's reply. "I know. You always try, but it seems to find you anyway."


"Goodnight, Zoë." Jarod said.


As he ended the cell phone connection, Jarod stood up and stretched. Parker felt panic rising in her throat as Jarod walked toward the door. If he saw Parker sitting there, he would know that she had eavesdropped on his entire conversation. Unable to move without drawing Jarod's attention, Parker chose to sit motionless. Perhaps he wouldn't see her.


Parker should have known better, she realized. Jarod slipped through the door and quietly closed the latch behind him. He turned and saw Parker almost immediately. For a moment he simply looked at her.


With a sigh, Jarod walked to the couch and flopped down on the cushion beside Parker. Slouching low in the seat, he leaned his head against the cushioned back and closed his eyes. They sat together in silence for a time.


"I'm sorry that I hurt your arm." Jarod said finally. "I shouldn't have gotten angry."


Parker shrugged, though Jarod, with his eyes still closed, couldn't see her. "I shouldn't have hit you." She whispered.


Turning his head to look at her through the darkness, Jarod reached down and took Parker's hand gently in his own. "What are we going to do?" he asked wearily.


Parker stared at their clasped hands. "About what?" she asked in a low voice.


"About us." Jarod said.


Parker couldn't stop the words that came out next. "I've told you before, Jarod. There is no us."


Jarod studied her face calmly for nearly a minute. Leaning forward he whispered tenderly, "Do you honestly believe that, Miss Parker?"


Her lip quivered as she shook her head. "No." Parker finally managed to say quietly.


"We can't keep tearing each other apart this way." Jarod urged softly.


A tear slid down Parker's cheek. "Perhaps you should go." She said.


Again Jarod was quiet for a long time. Finally he asked, "Do you want me to leave, Parker?"


She shrugged and bit down on her lower lip to stop its trembling. "I'm sure there are other places that you would rather be." Parker said with resignation.


"Like where?" Jarod said petulantly. "Where else am I going to go?"


Parker glanced up at him in confusion, revealing the dampness on her cheeks. "You could go see your friend."


Jarod frowned, "What friend?"


Parker snatched her hand away angrily. "I heard you on the phone just now, Jarod. If you are so unhappy here, you should just go to your little girl friend."


"She thinks I'm an accountant." Jarod said simply.


"What?" Parker asked.


"An accountant." Jarod repeated. "She thinks that I am an accountant with ties to some unscrupulous people."


"What has that got to do with anything?" Parker said with a puzzled frown.


Jarod shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "Zoë doesn't know me." He said. "I care about her. We have a lot of fun together. But she doesn't know who I really am."


Parker shrugged again. "Then you should tell her."


Jarod pondered that for a moment. "No." he said slowly. "I don't think so. My inner demons are too intense for the type of relationship that she and I share. It's almost as though we have this unspoken rule. Nothing too serious."


"Do you love her?" Parker asked, half afraid of the answer.


"I care about her." Jarod said. "I guess I do love her in a way."


Jarod's eyes stared intensely at Parker. In the darkness she could not tell where the deep brown color of his eyes changed into black pupils. He reached out and took Parker's hand in his once more.


"I suppose that some small part of me will always belong to Zoë in the same way that some part of you will always belong to Thomas." Jarod said gently. "But neither Zoë nor Thomas ever owned either of us entirely. Did they?"


Parker swallowed and shook her head.


"Why do you suppose that is, Miss Parker?" Jarod asked.


"I don't know." She shrugged.


Jarod laughed sadly, making a low mournful sound. "Poor Miss Parker." He whispered tenderly. "It is so hard isn't it? It would be easy to let a stranger get close. But to let in someone who really knows you? Someone you can't hide from with that ice queen façade of yours. That is just so very hard, isn't it?"


The gentle kindness in Jarod's voice was her undoing. There wasn't a trace of derision or irony or malice in his words. Parker's shoulders started to shake as silent sobs wracked her body.


"Someone who knows every wound." Jarod went on softly. "Who understands every nightmare, every teardrop." With one hand Jarod cupped her cheek, caressing a tear away. "It makes us so very vulnerable."


"What do you want from me, Jarod?" Parker sobbed.


Jarod leaned in close so that Parker could feel the breath from his next words tickling her lips. "Why ask questions that you already know the answers to, Parker? You know what I want. Don't you?" He whispered.


"Don't you?" he urged again.


Parker nodded.


"Say it." Jarod demanded urgently.


"Me." Parker sighed. "You want me."


Their lips touched. Jarod brushed feather light kisses over Parker's lips. Tiny cautious contacts where only their lips met. Parker tasted her own tears on Jarod's lips and another sob tore from her throat.


Wrapping his arms around her, Jarod murmured into Parker's ear. "It's going to be okay, Parker. You don't need to be afraid anymore."


The tenderness, the conviction in Jarod's voice was so strong that Parker felt herself begin to believe him. Her own arms curled around Jarod's neck as Parker finally surrendered to him. She deepened the embrace, nibbling passionately at his flesh.


Sliding his leather jacket off his shoulders, Parker grasped handfuls of Jarod's shirt. Throwing one knee across his legs, Parker became the aggressor, demanding more and deepening the kisses. Jarod reacted with an equally fervent passion, hauling her body against his. Quickly finding his way through the robe to caress her bare back with his fingertips.


When she yanked the hem of his shirt from his pants and gently clawed her fingernails across the flesh on his chest and stomach, Parker was rewarded with a delighted shudder from Jarod. But when she quickly undid his belt buckle, Jarod abruptly grabbed her arms.


"Wait!" He hissed.


Parker, unmindful of Jarod's warning, continued opening his pants. Panicking suddenly, Jarod tried to back away but there was nowhere to go.


"Parker!" Jarod gasped.


They tumbled off the couch and on to the floor. A moment later, Jarod had scooted away. Panting as he tried to restrain his passion, Jarod held one hand out toward Parker, as though warding her off.


"Wait a minute." Jarod gasped. "What is going on here?"


Parker laughed a low sultry laugh. "I thought it was relatively obvious, Genius."


"I mean," Jarod stuttered as he reigned in his libido. "Why the sudden change of heart?"


Parker's sad gray eyes looked up at him. "I don't want you to leave, Jarod."


Jarod sighed. "I won't. I promise." He said. "You don't have to buy my loyalty with your body, Parker."


With abrupt clarity, Parker suddenly realized just how well Jarod really knew her. Her tears started flowing again as she stared up at him with unabashed awe and wonder.


"My feelings for you are unconditional." Jarod murmured as he took her face in his hands. "You don't need to prove anything. I'm never going to turn my back on you. I will always be there for you. My affection for you will never be contingent upon sex or anything else for that matter." Jarod kissed her lips softly.


"I thought you wanted me." Parker whispered.


Jarod laughed wryly and dragged Parker onto his lap and into a warm embrace. "Good God, Parker, you have absolutely no idea." He growled playfully into her ear. "You drive me to distraction, do you know that?"


"Do I?" Parker asked with feigned innocence. She wriggled seductively against him, making Jarod groan.


"Come on." Jarod said firmly. He stood and scooped Parker off the floor and carried her upstairs. When he reached Parker's room, Jarod set her gently on her feet. With soft, tender motions, Jarod untied the robe at Parker's waist and slid the silk onto the floor. Then, lifting her carefully, Jarod lovingly placed Parker between the sheets of her bed and tucked the blankets around her.


Kicking off his shoes, Jarod sprawled across the bed without bothering to remove any other clothes. Lying on top of the covers, Jarod pillowed his head on Parker's stomach and wrapped his arms around her thighs.


Parker ran her hands through Jarod's hair, massaging little circles on the back of his head. He made a sighing, purring sound of contentment that made Parker giggle.


"Jarod?" she asked quietly. "What are doing?"


"Making a point." He replied.


"Enlighten me." Parker said.


"There are ways to show each other how much we care." Jarod said. "Ways that don't include sex."


Reveling in the guilty pleasure of it, Parker brought her other hand up to join the first in exploring Jarod's silky hair. "But all the fun ways include sex." She cooed erotically.


Jarod moaned and hugged her tight.


"I'm fairly certain that I could seduce you." Parker commented playfully.


"Definitely." Jarod mumbled into the soft flesh of her stomach. "But then I will have wasted all the chivalrous, gentlemanly behavior I have been working at so diligently for the last half hour."


Parker laughed. "That would be a tragic waste. You've worked so hard."


"Hmm." Jarod agreed. "The effort has been excruciating."


Parker continued to play with the strands of hair between her fingers. Many long minutes had passed before she spoke again. "Jarod?" She asked uncertainly.


"Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily.


"Say it for me, just once." Parker said in a small voice. "Please?"


Jarod hugged Parker tightly. Lifting his head, he kissed her navel through the blankets. "I love you, Parker. Always have. Always will." He buried his face in her abdomen and kissed her again. "We belong to each other. And I will tell you that as many times as it takes to get you to believe me."


They smiled at each other adoringly in the dark for a time. Jarod finally snuggled back down, his cheek pressed against Parker's midsection. Several minutes passed and Jarod's breathing took on a deep even rhythm.


"Jarod?" Parker called softly.


"Hmm?" Jarod mumbled again.


"Are you falling asleep?" she asked, mischievous amusement curling her lips into a grin.


"I'm giving it my best shot." He grumbled laughingly.


"Poor baby," she said, caressing the back of his head. "You must be so worn out."


"Hmm." Jarod grunted.


"Jarod?" Parker said.


"What?" He answered with a sigh.


"Get some sleep." Parker giggled. "You are going to need the rest."


Raising his head, Jarod looked at Parker curiously. "Why is that?" He asked.


"I'll be seducing you in the morning." Parker said seriously. "I thought you should know."


Jarod laid his head down again and Parker could feel his quiet laughter rumbling through her body. "I'll be sure to eat my Wheaties." He murmured.


Parker smiled to herself in the dark. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so complete. The warm weight of Jarod's body covering her own was comforting. Her breathing slowed to match his and her caresses through his hair ceased.


They were both nearly asleep when Parker whispered, "Jarod?"


"Hmm?" He breathed.


"I love you." She sighed.


Parker drifted to sleep with Jarod's grin pressed against her warm stomach.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 11



Walk by the Lake

By Phenyx


-

Sydney strolled down the narrow path that led away from the house. Passed the garden and around the barn, the path was little more than a worn trail in the grass. Behind the old barn, the path turned into a walkway through waist high weeds. Crossing the field of grasses and thistles, Sydney stuck his hands in his pockets and admired the grandeur of Mother Nature that surrounded him.

The late-afternoon air buzzed with the sounds of cicadas. Birds sang as they flitted among the nearby trees. More than once, Sydney was aware of the sounds of small wildlife scurrying away from him in the grass.

Just before the sunshine beating down on him became uncomfortably hot, Sydney stepped from the field and into the peaceful gloom of the trees. The wooded area didn't cause Sydney any concern for the path he followed was still easily visible through the undergrowth.

Sydney took his time. As he walked he deeply inhaled the distinct aroma of the forest. The vaguely damp, crisp smell of plants and detritus was soothing and invigorating at the same time.

The trail slowly curved down a steep slope and back out of the trees. Sydney suddenly found himself on the rocky shore of a small lake. An old wooden dock jutted into the water not far from where Sydney stood. Standing alone at the end of the small pier was the reason for Sydney's foray into the woods.

Jarod was pitching stones into the lake. With skillful flicks of his wrist, Jarod was sending the flat stones skipping across the surface of the water several times before they sank beneath the surface.

Sydney ambled down the wooden planks to stand at Jarod's side. For several minutes, he silently watched his protégé whittle away at the small pile of stones at his feet. When one of the stones skipped seven times, Sydney finally spoke. "Impressive."

Jarod shrugged. "Seven is my personal best. I haven't been able to manage eight yet."

"But you keep trying." Sydney smiled.

"It relaxes me." Jarod admitted. Rolling a smooth round rock in the palm of his hand he mused, "The stones themselves must be chosen carefully. They need to be the proper shape and size. If it is too round, it won't skip, but if it's too flat it won't have any distance to it."

Sydney chuckled softly.

"Skipping stones is actually an excellent exercise in aerodynamics." Jarod said, flipping the rock into the water.

The two men stood side by side in a companionable silence. The plinking of pebbles into the water was the only sound between them. When the last of Jarod's stones disappeared into the dark water, the younger man sighed heavily.

"Feeling any better?" Sydney asked in a softly accented voice.

"No." Jarod responded.

"She was a little ." Sydney paused searching for the correct word. "Harsh."

"Sydney." Jarod groaned. "It was a verbal castration without anesthesia."

"How long have the two of you been sexually intimate?" Sydney asked abruptly.

Jarod's head whipped around to stare at his mentor in stunned horror. Sydney schooled his face into a stern mask of normality, serenely gazing out across the water. Laughing at the comical look on Jarod's face would not help matters at all.

"We thought we were being discrete." Jarod moaned dejectedly.

"Oh very much so." Sydney replied. "I'm the only one who suspects the truth. And I wasn't sure until just now."

"How did you know?" Jarod sighed.

Sydney studied Jarod's face intently as he tried to decide how much he should involve himself in this complicated relationship. Jarod and Miss Parker were both very important people in Sydney's life. He dreaded the prospect of being forced to choose sides between them. Each was a strong, willful individual with equally troubled emotional backgrounds. The psychological trauma and fear of abandonment inherent in both of Sydney's young friends made it difficult for either of them to depend heavily on anyone.

But Sydney had seen the trust they had in each other. He knew that Jarod would gladly lay down his life for Parker. And Sydney had personally witnessed Miss Parker's devotion to the pretender when she had painstakingly tended Jarod's wounds just after they had fled The Centre. The trust that existed between them was as strong as it was miraculous.

Perhaps fate had thrown Jarod and Miss Parker together again and again for a reason. Maybe they were meant to share their lives. Sydney truly hoped so. No one deserved happiness more then these two did. No one had earned it the way they had.

Sydney admitted to himself that he had already decided to get involved. He had made the decision before he'd followed Jarod down the path that had led him to this lake. Sydney vowed not to take sides. But he would do his best to keep them together.

"How did you know, Sydney?" Jarod asked again.

"She has been exceptionally vicious since you returned with Sam last week." Sydney said.

Jarod frowned. "So you automatically assumed we were sleeping together? That doesn't make sense."

Sydney smiled indulgently. "No. The fact that you stopped snarling back at her is what gave it away."

"I don't know what to do, Sydney." Jarod sighed. "When we are alone at night and it's just me and her in the dark, everything is so perfect." He closed his eyes as if savoring a fine wine. "I hold her in my arms and bury my face in her hair and nothing can touch us. When we make love, " Jarod gasped, his eyes bright with conviction. "She says she loves me, Sydney. And in the dark, I believe her. I'm sure of it."

"But?" Sydney asked.

"But then the sun comes up." Jarod shook his head slowly. "In the light of day the status quo returns. We're back to Lab-rat and Centre Ice Queen. At the first possible chance, she'll verbally rip me a new asshole."

"It hurts." Sydney said simply.

"God, yes." Jarod admitted. "The worst part of it is that she knows exactly what to say to hurt me the most."

"That comes from knowing you so well." Sydney nodded.

"Yeah, well." Jarod grumbled. "It sucks."

Sydney tilted his head at the younger man thoughtfully. "Why do you suppose she acts that way, Jarod?"

Jarod shrugged. "Because she's psychotic?" He asked with a smirk.

Sydney chuckled. "I'm being serious."

With a sigh, Jarod kicked ruefully at the planks beneath his feet. "She's scared." Jarod mumbled.

"She's terrified." Sydney agreed. "Jarod, in her life Parker has lost everyone she's ever held dear."

Jarod frowned. "She isn't going to lose me, Sydney."

"Are you sure?" Sydney asked, arching his brows questioningly. "Can you guarantee her that you won't get struck by lightning or hit by a bus? Can you swear that you won't get sick or have a coronary someday?"

"I'm not going to die anytime soon." Jarod vowed.

"You nearly died just a couple of months ago, Jarod." Sydney said softly. "There were times when I believe that Parker kept you alive through the sheer force of her will."

The pretender buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans and glared in frustration at the smooth surface of the lake. "What am I supposed to do, Sydney?" He asked plaintively.

"Do you care about her?" The psychiatrist asked in return.

Jarod nodded seriously. "I love her more than anything."

Sydney tilted his head inquisitively. "Is she worth fighting for?" He asked.

"Of course." Jarod answered.

"Then you need to fight for her." Sydney stated simply. "Your rival will be her fears and self-doubt."

Jarod's brow creased with a frown. He nodded thoughtfully, turned and began to walk across the dock toward the shore.

"Jarod." Sydney called to the pretender's retreating form. "There is something else that you need to keep in mind."

Jarod cocked his head at his old mentor with interest.

Sydney quickly crossed the distance between them and rested an affectionate hand on Jarod's shoulder. "Parker's vulnerability is mirrored in you. You are just as frightened, just as doubtful about this as she is. You mustn't lose sight of that. Recognize your own uncertainty for what it is."

Jarod swallowed and nodded his head. With a troubled look on his face he headed back up the incline toward the path that would take him back to the farmhouse.

Sydney watched him go, knowing that the pretender needed time to consider everything they had discussed. He hoped it would be enough.

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. If I owed them we'd still be watching new episodes.



One Good Turn Part 12



Sharing

By Phenyx


-

Sam shrugged helplessly. The pleading look that Broots shot at him across the table was as close to pitiful as Sam could imagine. But the stocky sweeper wasn't about to butt in here. Broots had to deal with this on his own.

"Better him than me." Sam thought to himself.

Broots sat cringing in a chair at the kitchen table. His lap top computer was open in front of him. Hunched miserably in his seat, Broots stared sightlessly at the keyboard with his hands clasped nervously in his lap.

Miss Parker was yelling at him again.

"Of all the lame-brained ideas you've ever had, Broots," she hollered. "This one really takes the cake."

Sam truly felt sorry for the poor bastard. Broots seemed to wind up on the receiving end of Miss Parker's wrath more often than anyone else, except Jarod of course.

In the past week Sam had seen Parker rip into the pretender harder than a starving dog into a bone. Sam got the distinct impression that his employer was putting her former prey through some kind of hazing ritual. And the rest of them were getting caught in the fringes of the test. It was almost as though she was punishing Jarod in a way. Perhaps this was Miss Parker's way of retaliating for the nasty argument the two of them had on the night that Sam had arrived.

Sam had been wary of the pretender ever since his arrival. Jarod was potentially a dangerous man. Sam knew that from the years he had spent pursuing him. When Jarod had threatened to break Miss Parker's arm, Sam had been seriously tempted to shoot him, regardless of anything Jarod had done to help them recently.

But now, a week later, Sam understood the situation more clearly. Miss Parker was being extremely difficult to live with. Everyone's patience was wearing thin. And Jarod had been stuck with this for months.

Sam suppressed his discomfort and calmly did as he was told. As the days slowly passed, each of them was given duties to perform. Each member of the little group had a part to play in the upcoming demise of The Centre. Until they were successful, none of them would be safe. They were all irrevocably bound together in this strange little adventure.

"What made you think that this would work?" Miss Parker growled furiously.

Broots looked up warily and stuttered, "But- But, Jarod s-said,"

Miss Parker slapped the palms of her hands against the tabletop. "Since when does Monkey-boy give the orders around here?" she hissed.

Sam felt another wave of empathy for the computer tech as the balding man flinched at Miss Parker's words.

"What have I done now?" a soft voice asked.

Sam looked up and saw Jarod standing in the doorway that led into the kitchen. Glancing over at Broots, Sam saw the look of relief that flooded over the technician's face.

Miss Parker turned on Jarod immediately. "Broots is posting information about The Centre on some odd-ball UFO web site." She grumbled. "No one will take anything seriously if they read it there."

Jarod glanced at Broots for confirmation of the current events.

Broots shrugged. "I placed the information we discussed last night onto a Lone Gunman page."

Jarod nodded. "A conspiracy theory message board."

"One of the more heavily visited sites." Broots nodded. "By Saturday night, our tale about a secret research facility that experiments with children will have branched out into dozens of other conspiracy pages and no one will be able to trace its origin."

Jarod looked questioningly at Miss Parker. "So what's the problem?"

Miss Parker's eyes rolled expressively and she made a disgusted face. "Do you think anyone will take this seriously if they read it beside the posting about Elvis's two-headed alien baby?"

Jarod seemed puzzled. "If Elvis died decades ago, how could his offspring still be an infant?" He asked innocently.

Sam nearly burst out laughing. But it was Broots who answered.

"There are people who believe that Elvis is still alive." The balding tech replied. "It's one of the more frequently reoccurring rumors floating around. That and the theory that there are alien space craft hidden in Area 51."

"Ah." Jarod exclaimed, nodding. "Roswell, New Mexico." He said. "I drove through there once. But I didn't see any aliens."

"Are you sure?" Broots asked. "Aliens can masquerade as regular people so it's hard to tell."

"The two of you masquerade as regular people." Miss Parker growled furiously. "Morons."

"Parker," Jarod sighed wearily. "Broots did exactly as I asked him to do. That web site is as good as any other."

"Great." Miss Parker taunted him. "My life is in the hands of a bunch of UFO geeks." She slapped the technician on the shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. "I'm sure you are feeling quite secure in this arena Broots."

Jarod frowned. "Leave him alone Parker." He said gently.

Sam saw the rage flare in Miss Parker's eyes. She stalked across the few yards separating them and stood toe to toe with the pretender. Poking him rudely in the chest to punctuate each word she said menacingly. "You don't give the orders around here."

"Neither do you, Parker." Jarod said calmly. "We're not at The Centre anymore."

"Someone has to be in charge of this insanity." Parker growled.

"Why?" Jarod shrugged. "We are all mature and intelligent adults here."

Parker cocked an eyebrow at Jarod meaningfully. "Mature?" She smirked.

Jarod grinned boyishly. "Okay, most of us are reasonably mature. The rest are just intelligent."

Even from his position across the room, Sam could see the smile that Miss Parker attempted to hide.

"My point is," Jarod continued. "Try to relax. Let Broots do what he has to do." Parker sighed as Jarod went on. "You don't need to prove a thing." Jarod said gently. "Not to us."

"I'm not out to prove anything, Jarod." Parker huffed.

Jarod tilted his head and gazed at Parker sadly. "Yes you are." He said. "Parker, what's happening between us in bed doesn't make you weak. There is no need to show us how tough you are."

Sam blinked. For a moment, he wasn't sure that he had heard Jarod correctly. With a quick glance at Broots, Sam saw a similarly stunned look on the technician's face.

"Parker." Jarod sighed heavily. "I know this is difficult for you. Hell it's hard for all of us." Jarod stepped closer to Miss Parker and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "The interaction between each of us is changing dramatically. Our roles in each other's lives are altering in ways we may never have imagined."

Jarod gestured toward Broots as he spoke. "Broots isn't your lackey anymore. He's your equal, your comrade. In some instances, his knowledge and experience will make us all his subordinates."

Broots flashed a proud grin and sat up confidently in his chair.

"When pigs fly." Miss Parker growled, deflating poor Broots' short-lived courage.

"Parker," Jarod sighed and rolled his eyes. "Debating this subject with you isn't going to make any difference. Is it?"

Miss Parker crossed her arms stubbornly and replied. "I doubt it."

Jarod shook his head and sighed melodramatically. "I'll just have to move on to Plan B."

With a frown Miss Parker asked, "What is Plan B?"

Jarod shrugged. "I strip you naked and lock you in a room until you promise to behave yourself." He said nonchalantly.

"How is that supposed to do any good?" She asked in shock.

"Who knows?" Jarod replied. "But it will be far more entertaining than the current abuse you've been dishing out."

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Parker hissed.

A slow grin broke out on Jarod's face. "If I said 'yes', would you still respect me in the morning?"

"Jarod." Miss Parker said warningly.

Sam watched in amused wonder as Jarod tenderly brushed his fingertips across Miss Parker's cheek.

"You are not the boss anymore." Jarod said deliberately. "We don't HAVE to listen to you. But we choose to do so out of loyalty." Jarod grasped Miss Parker's chin between his fingers and tilted her face so he could look into her eyes. "Out of friendship."

"This is who I am, Jarod." Miss Parker whispered.

Jarod chuckled softly, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "No." He said with a sigh. "This is The Centre's Miss Parker."

"I am The Centre's Miss Parker." She replied sadly.

"Then who was that girl laughing at my terrible jokes last night?" Jarod purred affectionately into her ear.

Sam and Broots exchanged a look of surprise as Jarod began blatantly nibbling on the curve of Miss Parker's throat.

"I was only being polite." She claimed haughtily.

As the pretender kissed the curve of her jaw line, he said, "You were giggling."

"I never giggle." Miss Parker sighed.

"Liar." Jarod purred.

Miss Parker's arms weaved their way up Jarod's biceps to wrap around his neck. "I never giggle." She repeated sternly.

Jarod's right hand was pressed against the small of Miss Parker's back, holding her firmly against him. His left hand slid down her spine and over her derriere as he spoke. "You giggle every time I touch you right there." Jarod's hand had made its way to the hemline of Miss Parker's very short skirt and snaked around her thigh.

With a gasp, Miss Parker pulled away slightly. "Jarod!" She cried softly.

"What?" He growled against her hair.

Miss Parker placed her palms against Jarod's chest and shoved him back slightly. She glanced warily at the two men watching the tawdry display and flushed with embarrassment.

"Jarod," she said firmly. "I think you are making our friends uncomfortable."

Jarod blinked for a moment. Then slowly and with a heave of regret, he disentangled himself and stepped back. A huge smile broke out across the pretender's face and he grinned triumphantly at Sam.

With a wink, Jarod said to Broots, "Let me get my laptop, Broots. We still have a lot of work to do."

A moment later the pretender was gone, headed for the other room to fetch his computer.

Miss Parker glared at the two men remaining. Broots and Sam just grinned knowingly at each other.

"Get those smirks off your faces or I'll knock them off." Miss Parker growled.

Broots laughed.

"Excuse me?" Miss Parker hissed.

"Sorry," the tech answered, still grinning. "It's just - "

"What?" She snarled through clenched teeth.

"You called us your friends." Broots said with a smile.

"Oh, grow up." Parker snapped. As she huffed out of the room, she nearly slammed into Jarod as he returned.

There was silence for a moment as the three men watched Miss Parker storm away. Jarod walked to the table, set his computer down and swung his leg over the nearest chair, sitting down with a thump. Following the pretender's example, Sam sat in a chair opposite him.

As Jarod opened his laptop and turned it on, he glanced quickly at the other two men. Broots and Sam were both staring at him expectantly.

"What?" Jarod asked innocently.

Sam spoke calmly, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Jarod." He said, calling the pretender by name for the first time since arriving a week ago. "If you hurt her, I will kill you." Sam paused. "Slowly." He added.

In an equally straightforward manner, Jarod replied. "Understood. I would expect no less."

As Jarod set up his equipment and booted up the computer, Broots and Sam exchanged a wary look. Jarod caught the questioning glances they shot across the table.

"What?" Jarod asked again in exasperation.

Broots rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come on, Jarod!" The technician hissed. "Details, man. Details!"

The pretender frowned playfully as he tried to hide a grin. "I doubt Parker would appreciate us gossiping about her sex life, gentlemen."

A slow smile spread across Sam's face and he leaned toward the pretender meaningfully. "Is she everything you imagined she would be?"

"More." Jarod smiled. Then, with a quick huff, the pretender turned his attention to the screen in front of him and abruptly changed the subject. "Any luck with the new search, Broots?"

The tech shrugged and readjusted the monitor of his own computer. "I've found something that may fit the bill." He said. "Mr. Lyle has been doing some preliminary business with a man named Richard Leland."

Jarod's eyebrows shot up with amusement. "Not Richard Leland of Chicago?"

Broots nodded. "The same."

Jarod whistled appreciatively.

Sam sighed in frustration. "Could somebody share a clue with the non-genius present?"

Chuckling wryly, Jarod explained. "Leland runs a large percentage of the Chicago underworld. Drugs, prostitution, illegal gambling. Stuff like that."

"Fun guy." Sam mumbled.

"Yep." Jarod grinned eagerly. "Just what we've been looking for. Now we just wait for Lyle to set up some serious business with Leland."

Sam frowned. "This character sounds dangerous. It could be a problem if he comes after us."

"Spoken like a good bodyguard." Jarod said. Shaking his head Jarod said, "Leland will never even know that we exist. Lyle will be the only culprit he sees."

"So what's your plan for Mr. Leland?" Sam asked curiously.

Jarod spent the next hour detailing his ideas. He shared the results of the various simulations he'd done. The three men did some brainstorming on possible variables that arose now that they knew their intended victim was a powerful crime figure.

By the time the sunlight had begun to fade from the room, they had this phase of their battle plan complete. All that was left to do was wait for Lyle to step into the trap.

--

Jarod strolled across the dark yard. Sounds of a summer evening filled with crickets surrounded him. There was a storm coming, making the air about him heavy with humidity. Crossing the twin ruts in the yard that served as a driveway, Jarod shuffled through the long grass toward an old wooden picnic table. The table stood at the foot of a huge maple tree. The branches leaned low to the ground so that Jarod had to duck under them at one point. During the day, this shady spot was cool and inviting. At night it was a dark and ominous alcove of shadow.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Jarod casually stepped onto the wooden bench and sat down on the top of the table. For a moment he sat in silence, listening to the insects and watching the twinkling glow of lightning bugs. Miss Parker, sitting on the bench beside him, tried to ignore his presence.

Finally Jarod spoke. "Lyle is working on a deal with Richard Leland in Chicago. There's going to be an exchange of some kind in a few days."

Parker stared at the dark leaves above her head in silence.

"Once we've shared the details with the authorities, you will need to call Lyle and warn him." Jarod said calmly.

Parker mulled over his words for a moment then sighed. "When Lyle doesn't show up for the meeting and the police arrive, Leland will think that Lyle tipped them off."

"Uh-uh." Jarod agreed.

"If word gets around that Lyle is a snitch, no one will want to do business with him." Parker said.

"Or with The Centre." Jarod added.

Parker gave Jarod a wry grimace. "You have an insidious mind, do you know that?"

Jarod shrugged. "I learned from the best."

The two sat silently for several minutes. Jarod sat with his hands in his pockets while Parker perched beside him with her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"Are you angry with me?" Jarod asked after a time.

"Furious." Parker said in a deceptively calm voice. "You shouldn't have told them about us."

"Why not?" the pretender asked curiously.

"It's none of their damned business. That's why." She hissed.

Jarod tilted his head to one side and gazed at Parker's profile. "How long were you going to keep it a secret?"

"I don't know." Parker sighed. "Forever maybe."

"Does it embarrass you?" Jarod asked half jokingly. "Is it unseemly to be boffing the lab rat?"

Parker's sudden silence was deafening. Her unspoken agreement to Jarod's words hit him like physical blow and he gasped softly.

Pain etched across his features as Jarod gazed down at Parker. "I have feelings you know." He whispered. "Why do you insist upon trying to hurt them? What have I ever done to you?"

Parker stood abruptly and took a step away, her arms still wrapped protectively in front of her. "Every tragic and painful thing that has ever happened in my life has been because of you, Jarod. My mother was murdered for trying to rescue you. Tommy was shot to keep me focused on bringing you back. Even my father died because you found those stupid scrolls for him."

"I only want you to be happy, Parker." Jarod murmured.

Turning to face Jarod for the first time since he'd sat beside her, Parker glared defiantly at him. "Whenever I allow myself to feel that way, something horrible happens. Someone dies." She sighed heavily. "Pawns like us can never find happiness, Jarod. Fate won't allow it."

Silence stretched between them again. Jarod shook his head and finally said softly, "It won't work, Parker."

"You should go." She said sternly.

"It won't work, Parker." Jarod repeated more firmly. "I won't let you chase me away."

"Jarod," she began.

"No." Jarod said tenderly. He stood and pulled her into a warm embrace. "What we have together has the potential to be something wonderful. I will not allow you to give up on it. Say every nasty thing you can think of, Parker. I won't fall for it anymore."

Jarod leaned toward her and kissed Parker until she wilted against him. Burying his face in her hair, Jarod whispered, "You can't run away from this. I forbid it."

Clasping a fistful of his shirt in her hands, Parker leaned her forehead against Jarod's chest and shook her head sadly. "There's no such thing as happily ever after, Jarod." She said forlornly.

He kissed her again, more passionately this time. "But there is, Parker. I know it." He murmured into her ear.

Breathing heavily now, Parker breathed, "How can you be sure?"

Snaking his hand under Parker's blouse Jarod ran his fingertips along the bare skin of her spine. He pulled her closer, maneuvering one leg between her thighs causing the satin of her skirt to ride up. When Parker breathed a low sigh of desire, Jarod laughed softly with triumph.

"There is a happily ever after." Jarod murmured huskily as he began to undo her buttons. "We find it every time we make love, Parker." He suckled at the smooth hollow of her throat until she gasped. "Let me show you." He growled against her skin.

He was already pulling her down onto the grass as she nodded her consent.

Sometime later, they lay curled together in the dark. Parker rested against Jarod's bare chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. A soft pattering of sound came from above as raindrops drizzled against the dense leaves. Sheltered from the rain by the ages-old maple and protected from the chilly air by the warmth of her lover's body, Parker sighed in contentment.

"You were right." She whispered tremulously.

Jarod brushed a tender kiss across the top of her head. "About what?" he murmured.

Parker looked up at him with bright eyes, "This is happiness."

Jarod grinned back at her through the dark.

"Why can't we make it last?" She asked sadly.

The pretender pulled her into a tight hug. "We can, Parker." He sighed. "It's just difficult right now. It's hard to trust in something that has been so rare and fleeting in our lives. But our belief in it will grow stronger. With each day that passes safely, our confidence in what we've found will grow."

"Do you think this will ever get easier, Jarod?" Parker whispered. "Will we ever stop being afraid of what life may bring?"

"I hope so, love." Jarod said softly. "I really hope so."

One Good Turn Part 13



Coping with Joy

By Phenyx



Jarod sat on the floor in the dark hallway with his back to the wall. His wrists hung limply over his bent knees as he gazed across the hall into the bedroom. Light from the full moon was shining through the large picture window, illuminating the bed and the figure resting there. Her hair, tangled and shoved haphazardly away from her face, fanned across the pillow like a dark halo shimmering in the moonlight.


Jarod shook his head in wonder. The fact that this incredible woman was his wife was still difficult for Jarod to believe, nearly a year after they had taken their vows.


Of course, the life that he shared with Parker wasn't the perfect picture of harmony that Jarod had envisioned. Parker was a strong-willed and passionate woman. Parker's tenacity combined with Jarod's equally stubborn personality occasionally resulted in a powder keg of emotion. They'd had some incredible fights. On more than one occasion, the two of them had exchanged harsh and bitterly angry words. Parker had once, in a fit of pique, thrown a vase at Jarod's head. But the pretender knew when to duck.


They didn't argue as often as they had in the past. Their marriage had given the relationship a psychological permanence and emotional confidence that had been lacking. They were each less likely to lash out at the other in fits of self-preservation. But when they did disagree, there were always fireworks.


Making up afterwards was equally intense. The passion that Parker displayed in anger was surpassed only by the enthusiasm she showed her husband in bed. She'd never lost a conflict in that department. Parker dominated over Jarod in the bedroom, and he submitted to her gladly.


Now, as Jarod watched his wife sleeping just a few feet away, he realized that there would be no arguments for a long while. Parker had earned the right to win the next few battles. The way Jarod felt at this moment, years could pass before he would be callous enough to oppose his wife's wishes.


Tonight, Parker had surpassed Jarod's most secret desires. Tonight she had given Jarod a son.


The boy had been born just a few hours ago in the same bed in which he'd been conceived. Jarod and Parker, both fearful and suspicious of the safety of their child in a public hospital, had chosen to hire a mid-wife so that their child could be born at home. Parker's uneventful pregnancy and the secluded location of their home made the choice simple.


Jarod sighed and raked one hand through his hair. It had been the longest night of his life. Though Jarod knew that fourteen hours wasn't a particularly long labor, it had seemed interminable.


Parker had endured the long afternoon and evening with a studied calm. She concentrated on her breathing and the relaxation techniques they had been practicing for months. For most of her labor, Parker had inhaled and exhaled serenely. Between contractions she slept. It was only through the increasingly fierce grip Parker had on his hand that Jarod was able to gauge the amount of pain she'd truly been in.


Everything had changed as Parker transitioned from labor toward the delivery. Her body had surged with adrenaline, naturally preparing her with the strength needed to bear her child. It had also caused a wave of mind- numbing panic that left her weeping.


When Parker had clutched at his shirt and whimpered his name, it had nearly been Jarod's undoing. There was nothing he could do but hold on and murmur soothing nonsense into her ear. She had cried out only once. Jarod had been forced to watch helplessly as her single shriek of pain morphed into a groan of effort and Parker began to push.


Jarod continued to offer words of encouragement, though he knew Parker couldn't hear him. Aside from being a firm object to brace against, Parker was oblivious to her husband's presence. Every fiber of her being had focused only on the impulsive need to bear down.


Panting with exhaustion after her second effort, Parker had looked up at Caryn, the mid-wife. The older woman had grinned and said, "Give me your hand, Parker. Your baby is nearly here already."


Jarod had stepped back and watched in dumbfounded wonder as the mid-wife had guided Parker's hand to the tuft of dark hair that was now visible. As another contraction rocked her, Parker groaned with exertion. Her fingertips slid across a damp brow and over a small nose as the head emerged.


While gulping in air between contractions, Parker caressed the baby's cheek with her thumb. The child, not yet free of its mother, instinctively turned its head toward the stimulus. Small rosebud shaped lips formed a little O as they searched blindly for succor. When the tiny mouth found Parker's fingertips, it startled to suckle greedily.


Jarod ceased to breath as the shear awe of the moment overwhelmed him. Parker bubbled with delighted laughter and her eyes shimmered with joy as she looked at her husband. "Just like Daddy." Parker laughed merrily. "Always thinking about his stomach."


A moment later the wet, blood-streaked little boy lay on his mother's abdomen, bawling angrily at the abrupt change in his environment. Parker was laughing and crying simultaneously as she took the infant in her arms and wrapped him in the warm cotton blanket the mid-wife had provided.


Jarod had stared at the pair in stunned disbelief. He'd drifted through the next couple of hours in a daze. The mid-wife had flitted around the room in a flurry of activity, measuring, weighing and cleaning the newborn infant. There had been a dizzying few moments, as the after-birth had been expelled, when Jarod realized how much blood Parker had just lost. The thought that his beloved wife could bleed to death abruptly shot through his mind. A jolt of pure terror at the possibility had left the pretender reeling.


Taking deep relaxing breaths, Jarod forced aside the panic rising in his chest. Clinging desperately to the analytical portion of his mind, Jarod looked at the scene with a more clinical perspective.


Parker, looking a little pale and weary, was otherwise fine. The blood, though unsettling, was a natural part of childbirth, nothing more. Sitting up against several pillows propped against the headboard, Parker was gazing adoringly at the little boy in her arms. She grinned up at Jarod in delight as the babe found her breast and quickly learned how to nurse.


Jarod wasn't sure how long he stood there. He was vaguely conscious of the fact that he should do something, anything. But his brain seemed to have stopped functioning. He stood rooted to the spot like a big grinning idiot. He was aware that Caryn had spoken to him more than once and he had replied. But thinking back on it now, Jarod couldn't recall a single word the woman had said to him.


When Parker had held her hand out to Jarod, beckoning him to her side, he had perched on the edge of the bed and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. There Jarod had stayed until the mid-wife had finally shooed him from the room so that Parker could sleep.


Jarod had only gone as far as the hallway, propping himself in a position that allowed him to easily see the sleeping occupants of the bedroom.


Sydney came down the dark hall and quietly settled on the floor beside the tired pretender.


"I took Caryn home." The older man said.


Jarod grunted softly in response.


"She'll come by late tomorrow afternoon to check on things." Sydney went on. "But she wanted you to feel free to call her before then if anything comes up."


Jarod nodded.


Sydney smiled sympathetically at the younger man. With a tilt of the head the psychiatrist asked, "How are you holding up, Jarod?"


With a shrug of his shoulders, Jarod heaved a deep sigh.


"Feeling a little overwhelmed?" Sydney pressed intuitively.


With a stuttering burst of laughter, Jarod nodded again. "I can't." Jarod gasped. "I just." He swallowed hard and shook his head, unable to trust voice.


Sydney put an arm around Jarod's shoulders and smiled encouragingly at him. "Its okay, Jarod. You are entitled to feel that way."


Watery brown eyes gazed up at the older man. "Sydney," Jarod whispered. "I have a son."


Sydney's grin spread. "I know." He whispered conspiratorially. "I've seen him."


Jarod's lip trembled. "My son." Saying the words aloud for the first time seemed to burst the surreal bubble fogging Jarod's mind. "My son." He breathed again. The reality of it all came crashing in on the pretender. Clutching Sydney in a fierce hug, Jarod wept on his old friend's shoulder.


Unable to define the intense emotions roiling through him, Jarod simply gave in to the need to be comforted. Several long minutes passed while Jarod shuddered quietly in Sydney's reassuring embrace.


Family had always been so important to Jarod. Finding his parents had been like a religious crusade that he had yet to complete. For the pretender, isolated and alone for so long, to become a parent himself was an overwhelming accomplishment.


Sydney could only image what Jarod was feeling at this moment. Sydney's own son had been a grown man when they had first learned of each other's existence. The psychiatrist had been denied the crushing joy of being a new father. But Sydney knew how he felt now. Pride beamed across the older man's face with a glow of satisfaction.


In the year since they had been freed from The Centre, the relationship between Sydney and his protégé had changed. Jarod had slowly learned to relax his guard. The interaction between the two men had gone from mentor and student to familiar camaraderie. Sydney had finally ceased to be Jarod's teacher and keeper. As the months had passed, the two men had truly become friends in every sense of the word.


Sydney knew that he was viewed as the father figure in Jarod's life. But Sydney no longer schemed to encourage that impression. The paternal relationship that was developing now was a natural one, unclouded by the Centre motives and manipulations that had forced Sydney's actions for so long.


Jarod heaved deeply several times, sniffling as he battled to control his turbulent emotions.


Wiping the moisture from his cheeks Jarod murmured, "If Parker catches me bawling like this she'll have my head."


Sydney grinned. "Parker has shed a few tears of her own today, Jarod." He said with a gentle squeeze of the younger man's shoulders. "I think she'll understand."


Leaning comfortably against Sydney's side, Jarod gazed adoringly into the moonlit bedroom. "I still can't believe she did this for me." He whispered in awe.


"Jarod," Sydney chuckled. "Don't fool yourself. She has wanted this child just as much as you have. Her motivations were purely self-gratifying." After a pause Sydney added, "Of course you are now indebted to her for the next few decades." He said with a smile.


Jarod nodded seriously. "She's incredible. How can I ever atone for what she has done today?"


"You be a good husband to her." Sydney said. "And a good father to that little boy."


"I will." Jarod whispered solemnly. "I promise."


"And you buy her fine jewelry every Mother's Day." Sydney smirked.


They laughed quietly together in the dark.


An hour ago, Jarod had felt like he would never sleep again. But with Sydney's presence to help calm him, Jarod now felt the strain of the long day as fatigue crept along his limbs. His eyelids began to drift shut, though he struggled to stay awake.


"Get some sleep, Jarod." Sydney ordered softly.


The pretender sighed. "I should call the others. Tell them about the baby." Jarod murmured.


"Already done." Sydney said. "They will be here in the morning, with cameras at the ready I am sure."


In the past year, their small group had moved apart only slightly. Jarod had taken the money that the Triumvirate had given him in exchange for the pretender's promise to never again interfere in their affairs. He'd given each member of the group an equal share of the sizable payment.


Jarod and Miss Parker had bought this lovely home in the forests of Montana. Sydney and Angelo lived in a separate apartment in another section of the same house. Broots and his daughter, their nearest neighbors, lived less than two miles away. Sam lived in a quaint little house about ten miles away in the tiny burg that was the closest town.


"You rest." Sydney commanded. "It's been a long day."


"Promise that you'll wake me when Broots and Debbie get here?" Jarod yawned.


With a grin Sydney answered, "I won't need to. You've got a seven-pound alarm clock in that bassinet over there. He'll wake you up."


Jarod chuckled. "I guess you're right."


"Rest while you can, Jarod." Sydney advised. "Sleep is going to be an elusive thing for the next month or two."


Picking himself slowly up off of the floor, Jarod said with a grin, "It's a good thing you've taught me to get by without it."


After helping the older man from the hard wood floor, Jarod smiled and hugged Sydney again. "Thank you, Sydney." Jarod whispered. "Thank you for everything."


Patting Jarod affectionately on the back, Sydney urged the pretender toward the cushioned window seat where he could sleep without disturbing Parker. With a tender pat on the younger man's shoulder, Sydney said, "Get some sleep, Son. That's an order."


Sydney left, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.


Jarod, curled against several soft pillows, watched his wife sleep for a few more minutes. Parker's deep regular breathing soothed what remained of Jarod's concern. Soft sounds floated across the room from the white basket positioned beside the bed. It took Jarod's weary mind a moment to identify the noise. The baby was sucking on his hand while he slept, making the tiny slurping squeaks.


Smiling through the dark, Jarod whispered to his sleeping spouse. "Life doesn't get easier, Parker. It gets better. It just keeps getting better."