Disclaimer: The Pretender universe, and all therein, isn’t mine. The story is mine, however. So sue me if you want to, oh mighty PTB. You may take my money, but you’ll never take my freedom.

ALWAYS JAROD

by Diamond

It was always Jarod. Always. Ever since we first met - we were nine or ten, I think, and he stared at me through the glass like I was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. No one besides my mother has had so much impact on my life. I hated him for that, because he had no right to do it - to be that way. During those years I was trying to catch him, I always tried to tell myself that if it weren't for him, I might have actually been leading some semblance of a normal life, and I hated him for that, too. I was always good at deluding myself.

It all ended so abruptly. None of us saw it coming. He brought the whole damn Center crashing down around our ears. He left an out for a few of us, those he deemed worthy of a second chance. Some even deserved it, I suppose, like Broots. But I know the only reason I'm not in jail today is that Jarod had, well, I guess you'd say he had a 'soft spot' for me - or at least for the girl he used to know.

I don't know where he is now. I haven't seen him in years. He's probably married now, with six kids and a dog. Though I also wouldn't be surprised if he's still out there righting wrongs. I think he has to do it, to assuage his guilty conscience. You'd think a genius would be able to figure out that none of it was his fault - all the people that died because of his work at the Center. It's not like he had any choice. But that's just him, I guess.

I haven't seen him in years.

But God... I've never stopped thinking about him. I remember him as a child. We were friends, then. And I think of him when I was chasing him - so damn arrogant - God knows how many times he made a fool out of me. But mostly, I think of him that night after it all went to Hell.

My father committed suicide. Shot himself in the head to escape facing justice. It didn't take long for me to be able to think of it and not feel a thing. But at the time I was devastated. The Center was gone - I wasn't particularly sad to see it go, but it had been my life for... well... forever - and I was at home, preparing to leave and that's when Sydney called and told me, and it was just too much. I knew I had to get out of Blue Cove as soon as possible, but I couldn't move. I must have been in shock. That's when Jarod turned up.

Out of the blue, he appeared in my darkened living room. I think I was crying, and I didn't realise he was there at first - though I must have known on some level because when he finally spoke it didn't startle me.

"I'm sorry," he said. That's all. And I looked up at him and though I don't like to admit it, even now, I was so glad to see him... And even though it was dark and hard to see, I could just make out his face. He looked sad, and concerned... God, it was so good to think that he might still care for me, even then, even just a little.

I stood up then, and faced him, and I wanted to say something but I didn't know which words to use. And it was dark, and he was so close, and so solid, and so there... And even now as I think back, and the memory is so clear, even now I can't remember who reached out first. But suddenly I was in his arms and it felt so good to be held. And then we were kissing, though in this case I know that was me who started it. But he didn't resist, or move, so I kissed him harder, and clung to him, like I was trying to climb inside him. And he kissed me back for a while, though I knew that it was mostly me. That I was feeling more than him; that it meant more for me. I knew it and I hated myself for being so vulnerable. But it had all just been too much, and I couldn't stop - didn't want to stop.

He pulled away after a moment. He looked at me, and it was clear he was disturbed, affronted by my desperation.

"I don't know what you want from me," he said quietly.

I couldn't answer at first, but I knew what I wanted from him - I'd always known - so I told him. "Everything. I want everything, Jarod."

His face took on this sad, almost pained expression as he spoke. "I... can't... I..." he trailed off.

I almost laughed. Finally I had him at a loss for words. But I didn't laugh, because I understood what he meant without him having to say it. And I didn't care, not really. I wanted it all, but in truth I knew I'd settle for anything he gave me at that moment, just because it came from him.

"I know," I whispered as I moved closer again, "But just... pretend... for me, just for tonight, that you can. Please."

He did. And it was so easy to pretend, just for a little while, that we were normal people. That as we made love on the floor of my darkened living room, that the morning would never come, and nothing else mattered but his lips on mine and his breath against my neck...

We moved into my bedroom, and he held me afterwards. I'd always imagined that if it ever happened, he would be the one to get all emotional. But I was the one with tears on my face, and I couldn't seem to stop shaking as he stroked my hair. He barely spoke at all, but I think he was a little disappointed in himself, and in me, I guess.

God. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

It was supposed to change everything. I wanted it to, I see that now. But nothing changed, and now I'll never know for sure if he was looking for the same thing when he came to me that night. Maybe I should have asked.

I haven't seen him since he left me that night. But I still think about him. I think about him as I go on about my farcical 'normal' life, with my 'normal' job and my lover-of-the-month. I still think of him, and I hope that sometimes he thinks about me too.

Because it was always Jarod, and it always will be.

End.

Go to the next part in this trilogy

Disclaimer: The Pretender universe, and all therein, isn’t mine. The story is mine, however. So sue me if you want to, oh mighty PTB. You may take my money, but you’ll never take my freedom.

Not Enough

by Diamond

There was a time when I would never have admitted it. But it's been so many years now that it isn't so hard to face the truth. So yes, I acknowledge, I've always wanted her. Always. Not just sexually - it all started before I knew anything of lust and desire. No, really it was just that I wanted to be closer to her - always closer. It started when we were just children, and she was a lonely little girl looking for a friend. I don't know whether they even considered what they were doing when they introduced us, but she represented everything fascinating and new for me.

And I wanted to be closer to her. Though of course, I was so emotionally starved in the Center - especially as a child - that I basically latched onto anyone who gave me the time of day. Still, it was different with her, I suppose, because she offered true friendship, and only asked for the same in return.

But then she went away. And she grew up, and forgot about me. I guess she didn't have a choice about any of it. No, she is as much a creation of the Center as I am.

After she was sent to boarding school, I missed her for a while... But she was gone for a long time. And when she finally came back, she had changed. A lot. When I finally saw her again - it must have been six years at least - I caught her eye, and for a second... that flash of recognition... the simultaneous intake of breath… But the moment passed, and she just gave me a shallow smile, and said "Hello Jarod", in a voice I didn't recognise. And then she told me she was busy and had to go. It was obvious that this new person was totally closed off from the girl I'd known...

And it was sad of course, and disappointing, but I have to admit that I recovered quickly enough to watch her walk away from me down the corridor... and... well... what with the high heels and the miniskirt, let's just say that was when wanting to be closer to her suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Though, I can hardly be blamed for that. I didn't meet all that many attractive people during my thirty year stint as a lab rat.

I didn't see her often after that. But every now and then I would catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes I would exchange a few words with her. But the words grew harsher as time went on. She grew harsher.

Then I escaped.

And I couldn't help but laugh when Sydney told me the Center had put Miss Parker on my trail. I'm sure it made sense to them - she had extensive experience as a field operative, not to mention her time as head of internal security, and then there was her childhood relationship with me... It was an obvious choice for them, but it's a wonder that they didn't realise how simple it would make it for me to elude her and Sydney. Knowing them both as I did, I could anticipate their every move with ease.

Not that I'm complaining, of course.

And today, even now, I still laugh when I think of those years when she was chasing me. I pulled some incredibly petty stunts. But I can't be blamed for feeling a little bitter towards her. She may have been a source of childish fascination for me, but during the time I was on the run from her, she merely represented the Center. And, of course, it didn't help that she forgot about me so easily once she'd grown up. So I enjoyed tormenting her - giving her the flu... having her arrested... not to mention strip searched... It was just so satisfying to lash out at someone, and she made an easy target.

But even when I liked her least, I never stopped wanting her.

Pathetic, isn't it? But it wasn't something I could help. It seemed we were fated to always be connected in some way. Just two pieces of the same puzzle, as I once told her. Even now, four years after I dealt with the Center in one decisive blow - my biggest operation, and greatest triumph - even now I haven't quite managed to put it all behind me. I'd been working on it progressively since the moment I first escaped, collecting information, slowly invading the Center mainframe computer, setting each piece carefully in place... But despite all my careful preparation, there was some unforseen fallout. Mr Parker, for one. Aside from the fact that he had as much to do with destroying both our lives as anyone at the Center, she still loved him.

I've always felt protective of her. It's not something I could ever help. We were both victims of that place. We both had our families stolen from us. We're alike in that respect, and in so many others. I can't say that I always understood how she could still have so much faith in her father after he betrayed her at every turn. Sometimes it would just drive me crazy the way she would continue to defend him.

Of course, I can't help but compare it to my own attachment to Sydney. I guess we both had unhealthy relationships with our respective father figures.

And I knew that she would be devastated by his death. And I knew that I had to see her.

Jesus.

That night...

Whenever I think of her, and I do think of her at times, it is almost always in remembrance of that night - the last time I saw her. Before I knew about her father, I had already intended on going to see her. I didn't really have any specific agenda. Though, of course, I had hoped... maybe...

But as I said, there was unforseen fallout.

She was crying when I got there. I hadn't really expected that, though I don't know why. It was dark in her house. I stood there for awhile, just looking at her, and she was so pale in the moonlight that came in through the windows. Finally she looked up at me. And while there was a lot that I wanted to talk to her about, the only thing I could say when I found her sitting there in the dark was "I'm sorry"... and I was so very sorry. My feelings had always been confused when it came to her, but I knew that I didn't want her to be in pain.

She stood up then, and took a step towards me. And I held her, and it felt like such a natural thing to do. I didn't expect it when she kissed me, though I didn't resist. It was something I'd fantasised about often enough... But I knew it was happening for the wrong reason - that she was acting out of desperation and pain.

I probably should have handled it better. But to be fair, I wasn't exactly in the best of emotional states either. Was I ever, back then? And really, what did it matter when she felt so wonderful in my arms, her body so soft against mine...

But after a time it was obvious how wrong it felt. That confused me, because at the same time it felt so right... I pulled away. All I could think was maybe she had some idea as to just what the hell was happening. Because I didn't have a clue.

"I don't know what you want from me," I said, and she stared back at me for a moment with eyes so wide I could have fallen into them.

Then she answered me. "Everything. I want everything, Jarod."

And her words just made it all so much worse... They made me realise that maybe we were just too much alike. Because that was what I wanted from her. And because, like her, it was something I couldn’t give. But with her hands clutching at me, and her breath filling my nostrils, I could hardly put the thought into words. God I think I actually stuttered... I've never felt so out of control. Then she said - damn, I'll never forget it - she said "I know, but just pretend, for me, just for tonight, that you can. Please."

And what did it matter when I'd always wanted it, and I suspected she had too. And she felt so beautiful against me, and unbelievably soft under my hands, and it was easy to pretend - for myself as well as for her - that it was forever.

And it was amazing. Undressing her in the dark. Her skin so smooth as I ran my hands up her arms and over her shoulders. Lowering to the floor. Her hands on my chest, her tongue in my mouth. The taste of her as I kissed her breasts and stomach. Our eyes locked through the darkness as her legs encircled my hips. My hands in her hair, her fingernails digging into my back. That final, frantic release…

Amazing.

Jesus.

Afterwards, I couldn’t help bit feel ashamed, as we lay there panting in the dark. She stood without speaking, without ceremony, and lead me into her bedroom. She didn’t look at me, but she let me hold her. I wonder if she knew just how much I’d always wanted to do that. And she cried, and she was shaking as I stroked her hair.

I often wonder whether it could have been different. Id I’d spoken - if either of us had spoken. But there didn’t seem to be anything much to say. I wonder whether it wasn’t supposed to be different. Perhaps I simply hoped it wouldn’t feel as wrong as it did.

But it did feel wrong. So very wrong. Even as it was everything I wanted it to be. Because there was still the betrayal - the hurt, and malicious intent. Because neither of us would ever be free of the Center while in the other's presence. Because the Center was all our relationship ever was. And despite all the childhood memories, despite the concern and feelings of tenderness - perhaps even love - despite the attraction, and the delicious tension... in the end all of that wasn't enough. Just not enough.

And so I left her.

I haven't seen her in years. And I'll always feel sad when I think of her, and of us. Because too much water under the bridge seems like a pitiful reason not to have a happy ending. I'll always feel sad, and I'll shake my head, and sigh. Because it just wasn't enough - the sum of our secret hopes and dreams...

Just not enough.

End

Go to the last part in this trilogy, Pale.

Disclaimer: The Pretender universe, and all therein, isn’t mine. The story is mine, however. So sue me if you want to, oh mighty PTB. You may take my money, but you’ll never take my freedom.

PALE

by Diamond

It was unexpected, this inner quiet. She’d certainly felt a great deal all at once when she’d received his letter. But now...

"Hello."

That voice. It still had the ability to send a jolt down her spine. She didn’t turn her gaze from the water. She didn’t dare look at him. Not yet. "It’s been a while," she answered nonchalantly, deciding to let him determine the tone of this encounter. She felt his eyes on her then, studying her profile.

"You haven’t changed at all."

She resisted the urge to touch her hair self-consciously. "God, what did you expect? Grey hair and wrinkles? It’s only been four years."

He shrugged, and she just caught the movement from the corner of her eye. "Just making an observation." With that he turned and rested his arms alongside hers on the wooden railing, his stance matching hers.

"So how are you?" he asked her after a moment of silence.

She couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t seen each other in over four years. The last time being when they’d fucked on her living room floor, and she’d cried in his arms, and he’d left her. And now the son of a bitch was making small talk. "Oh, just peachy. And you?" The sarcasm flowed easily. The most comfortable, natural mask she wore.

Just as the calm, polite tone was his. "I’m quite well, thank you."

God, it was infuriating. *He* was infuriating. "So you want to tell me what the hell this is all about?"

He didn’t seem surprised at her outburst - he’d probably been expecting it, the bastard.

He shrugged slightly. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

She sighed. "Whatever."

"Well why did you come? You could have just ignored my letter."

"Sue me for being curious."

"Whatever," he mimicked.

There was a long moment’s silence. Then, the inevitable change in subject. "So. Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" It seemed like an equally inevitable question. Small talk or not.

"No."

"What about that guy… a year or so ago. You seemed fairly serious."

"How the hell do you know about Antoine? Have you been checking up on me?"

"Now and then. Does that surprise you?"

A sigh. "Not really."

"So what happened? With Antoine, I mean?"

She rubbed her forehead. "He proposed to me. He wanted me to settle down. Have kids for God’s sake."

"What’s so bad about that?"

"It’s not what I wanted. I don’t do pregnant and barefoot."

"You want to have children though."

"I did once, though I probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the time."

"And now?"

A far away look. "I just don’t think I could bear it..."

"Is that what you told Antoine?"

"No, I told him I wasn’t ready to settle down. Which was the truth - just not all of it."

"I guess neither of us is really the ‘settling down’ type.

"God. Isn’t that just the depressing truth."

Silence again. Then to fight the growing tension, she asked "What about you - are you seeing anyone?"

"No. I’m still splitting my time between my projects, and my family."

"And how are they all?"

A smile from him. To be expected. "Doing well, I think. You know, Emily got married. Two years ago. She’s happy."

"Glad not everyone’s lives have been completely ruined by it all."

"It only affects you as much as you let it."

Oh please. Wasn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black? But she didn’t want to get into that argument. "I heard from Sydney a while ago. He told me what you’ve been up to. You know, it won’t matter if you succeed, Jarod. Even if you manage to weed out every last remnant of the Center, other organisations will only rise up and take its place. They already have you know - you left one hell of a power vacuum four years ago."

"So you think I should let it go? I can’t. Not yet."

She doubted he would ever be able to. His curse.

"And what about you, Parker? Your career choice is nothing if not questionable."

"Well, it’s a trade off, I guess. I get to do whatever I want, but I also don’t have Center resources behind me."

"You’re just a glorified bounty hunter."

"Maybe. But I get paid ridiculous amounts of money for what I do."

"Is that why you do it?"

"Well, I suppose there are other things I could be doing - but it’s the thrill of the chase."

"Always the huntress."

"And don’t you forget it. Of course, none of my targets have ever given me the trouble you did. After you, it’s almost all too easy."

He didn’t bother hiding his smirk. "I hear you’re leaving the country."

Of course he would know. "I need a change of pace."

"Where are you going?"

"Well, there’s Japan, Madrid, a few other places I’ve looked into... Who did you hear about it from, anyway? And is that why you wanted to see me?"

"Sydney. And yes it was, in part. You haven’t decided where you’re going yet?"

"I’m leaning towards Russia. I’ve always loved Moscow. But I’ve always been fond of Japan as well. Nice dodge there, by the way. Are you planning on telling me why you wanted us to meet or should I not even bother asking again?"

He sighed. "It was a lot of things, really. Talking to Sydney and hearing about you, your leaving the country, and... it’s that time of year..."

"The anniversary of my mother’s murder. I know."

He remained silent beside her, staring impassively out over the water. Giving her the chance, she knew, to ignore the topic if she wanted to. And for that reason, if nothing else, she spoke.

"You gave her back to me, you know. One piece at a time. I hated you for the way you did that - left me scraps of information here and there. But you were right. I wouldn’t have been able to accept it all at once. There was a time when I was so angry at her. I thought she was pathetic and weak. But she was the strong one all along. My father was the real coward."

"It never goes away."

"It never will. For either of us. We’ll always be haunted."

A long silence. Then he stepped back away from the railing. And she tried not to feel anything when he reached out and took her hand, but the connection was still there. Even after all this time. Like magic. Both new and familiar all at once.

He pulled her after him and they started to wander along the wharf. He dropped her hand after a few moments, but the memory of his fingers against hers remained.

"Do you ever wonder why it didn’t work out for us?"

There was no time for games anymore. And they were pointless anyway. No need to deny the fact that there always had been an ‘us’ to refer to. And now it was looking like there always would be.

"I’ve had a few thoughts on the subject. What does that genius brain of yours tell you?" she redirected the question, trying to keep her tone dry.

"I asked first."

She sighed. God. "It was all too difficult. Too complicated, I guess. The Center was always in the way. Besides, I never really liked you all that much anyway."

"Yes you did. And you know, that’s what I decided too - that the Center was the reason for all that was ever between us. Hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. But if we let that factor into our chance at happiness, then they win. And we owe it to ourselves - and we owe it to the dead - to live."

"You’re speaking present tense now." It was almost a question.

"Looks that way."

Then there was quiet between them, as an unspoken question was asked and answered.

"I think I’ve come to a decision," she said.

"About?"

"Where I’m going."

"And?"

"Have you ever been to Russia, Jarod?"

"No. I always wanted to, though."

"It’s dark there this time of year. Cold, dismal, bleak..."

"Sounds cosy."

"Oh, you’d be surprised. And they make a damn fine bottle of vodka, too. So. Are you coming with me?"

"I think I will."

The mist, she noticed, had become an almost palpable entity as they continued to walk along the pier.

"Jarod, if you say ‘this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship’ I’ll kill you."

"Huh?"

She sighed. "Casablanca, Jarod. Add it to your catch-up-with-the-rest-of-the-world list."

Of course, it wasn’t *the* beginning. But it was *a* beginning. And a beautiful friendship, it always had been.

the end