"I don't like this," Broots groused, holding the door for Parker. "Mandatory attendance, dress code, open-carry. I've spent every cent of my salary bump to update my wardrobe, and I don't appreciate being ordered to complete weapons training. I didn't sign up for this, Miss Parker. Do you ever miss having a simple life, because I do. If not for Debbie I'd regret ever leaving the mobile home park."
"Relax, Broots," Parker instructed lightly.
"I can't. And there's been a banquet hall here this entire time but I haven't been invited before? It's like the bodily fluids storage facility all over again, and were they storing my blood for emergencies? No, because I'm just the tech guy."
"The tech guy who helped bring Jarod in," Parker informed Broots in a tight whisper. "You've got cred."
"What I want is peace," lamented Broots pointedly. "I mean, I barely sleep. My stomach's always in knots. I have to drink my meals. Aren't you nervous? I mean, Jarod's going to be here, too, and you're the one who brought him in. If anyone should be nervous and guilty it's you, Miss—"
"Thank you, Broots," Parker interrupted sharply, lengthening her stride.
"Hey," Broots called quietly, "our table isn't there."
"I need scotch," Parker said.
"Uh, sorry," Broots stammered, "but Faraijii has forbidden alcohol. It's a part of some kind of health awareness initiative."
"Fucking barbarian," Parker snarled.
"Table eight," Broots exclaimed, "over there, that's us."
"Front row seats to see the Centre's guest of honor," Parker purred. "Perfect."
"It's weird, isn't it?" Broots asked, sitting stiffly.
"Understate much," Parker said, her eyes and voice incisive. "Hell's holding a grand reopening ribbon cutting ceremony."
"Yeah, and boy it's hot in here. The suit's stuffy, and I think I'm allergic to silk. I think I'm breaking out into hives," Broots whispered, tugging at his collar. "These adhesive communication devices might be discreet but they sting."
"Leave it," Parker demanded, although she sympathized with Broots. The communication devices were as uncomfortable as they were necessary, and the new regime's stifling formality felt far more brutal than the previous one's. The burgundy off-the-collar gown she wore felt entirely too restrictive, despite the split that dead-ended at her left hip.
"What if they detect the signal and search us? Maybe—"
"Broots," Parker interrupted quietly, scrutinizing colleagues assembled at their assigned tables. "Finding my baby brother and Angelo is phase one of our plan; I'm not leaving the states without them."
"Okay, yes, but maybe there's another—"
"Unless you're going to offer to break into the Centre's Document and Itinerary Repository while I stay here and play the role of lookout don't say another word."
Broots fell immediately silent, except to clear his throat artificially when the lights dimmed. He observed heavy ivory drapes part, and Faraijii saunter across the marble dais.
"Let the circle jerk begin," Parker purred sardonically.
Applause erupted, and slowly lulled, and Faraijii bowed deeply and straightened. Smiling brightly, he spoke vaguely about his vision for greatness, before introducing the surprise guest of honor whose primary responsibility was executing aforementioned vision.
"Greatness, my ass," snorted Parker.
"Oh, my god, Miss Parker, it's Jarod," Broots exclaimed in a tight whisper. "He looks okay. They're really treating him like a VIP."
"Except VIPs can leave," Parker said, sliding her gaze to the two sweepers unveiling the alarmingly lifelike statue of The Pretender. Its
eyes were indifferent, empty, unseeing.
Contrarily, Jarod's had been narrowed, and filled with betrayal and concern for her when Parker had last seen him. She'd welcomed the former, and each grain of salt in each open wound, each twist of his blade.
Parker had worked hard for Jarod's anger, had earned it, and had craved his savagery like it was a drug; she was remarkably perturbed that he'd cut it with comfort, laced it with kindness, convincing Parker that one truly could kill with the stuff. Jarod certainly could, if anyone could.
And he makes me feel like shit even though I'm treating him like shit.
"That raises the question, huh," Broots said. "Why doesn't he? Leave, I mean, y'know, escape?"
Why, indeed, Parker ruminated darkly, admiring Broots' authenticity and courage. She'd been too afraid of the answer to inquire. "Um, Miss Parker," Broots whispered, "you okay?"
Parker inhaled a breath through clenched teeth, and answered neutrally, "Just eager for this masturbatory fête to end."
She suspected it was just beginning. Parker knew that Jarod would never relinquish freedom for gourmet meals or hundred thousand dollar suits.
In fact, there was only one thing Jarod valued more than freedom, that he'd ever trade or sacrifice his freedom for: family.
Applause erupted again, and attendees rose. "Go time," Parker murmured, before slipping, ostensibly unnoticed, from the room.
Broots coughed nervously, and hastily ascended to the dais where he casually sipped tonic water, and scrutinized the faces; after some time, he noticed that one was absent.
Oh, crap.
Broots lowered his head, adjusted his tie, and stammered, "Miss Parker" into his suit jacket. "You've got potential incoming. Possibly Jarod. I don't think he's here," Broots whispered, scanning the room with his eyes. "No, Jarod definitely isn't here."
"And the fucking repository isn't here," Parker snarled.
"What? No, that's not possible, i- it was just there yesterday. Do you think they moved it? Overnight? Why would they do that?"
"Why would they do anything," Parker returned tartly, clinging to to hope that Angelo had rescued her baby brother, and that they were together and safe. Somewhere—hell, anywhere else. "I'm on the way back."
"But what about Jarod? What if he's searching for you?"
"No," Parker said dismissively. "Tonight was about appearances. Jarod's probably being escorted back to the Tower. And," added Parker testily, "Jarod doesn't search for me, Broots, he runs from me."
"Uh, okay, I'm going to get another tonic."
"Do that," Parker ordered, tapping her ear to disconnect the device, and continuing swiftly along a dimly lit corridor. She came to an abrupt halt, and mutely hissed shit when an exterior door opened.
Parker bent at the waist to remove her heels, and darted into a narrow anteroom where she waited quietly for the intruder to pass; instead, the intruder joined her, and addressed by her name. Her real name.
"It isn't what you were expecting, is i-" Jarod's words dissolved on his lips. He drew a sharp breath and shook his head.
"What," Parker demanded, regarding Jarod through narrowed eyes, and recalling Lyle's words. What's wrong, Miss Parker, hmm, not comfortable with free range Jarod?
"Uh, I'm sorry," Jarod answered in an unsteady voice, "I'm experiencing some awfully intense déjà vu." He observed Parker's frown deepen, and explained softly, "I haven't seen that expression in decades."
"Expression," Parker pressed.
Jarod smiled sympathetically, and asked gently, "Do you recall the bunnies?"
Parker stared blankly at Jarod in silent contemplation, trying to recall anything other than her crimes against him.
"If you don't," added Jarod with a breathy laugh, gaining Parker's undivided attention once more, "you must have been awfully confused about the gift I had delivered to you that first Christmas after I escaped."
"What about the bunnies," Parker asked in a voice that was equal measures frustration and dread.
"Just now, the look on your face—of absolute terror—it's exactly how you looked when I found you alone with them."
"I wasn't supposed to be there," Parker explained with a dismissive shrug.
"Neither was I," Jarod said, briefly dropping his gaze to the heels dangling from Parker's fingertips. "And neither of us should be here now, but we are."
"Yeah, you know, it's like I never left the place," Parker said with false gaiety, adding tartly, "oh, wait. I never did, and now I don't know if I ever will."
"Then you know they're not going to honor the deal you made with Mr. Parker. I suspected there was an attached clause that voided the agreement in the event of death. I'm sorry."
"What do you want, Jarod?" Parker asked, irritably.
"Hmm, I can certainly relate," he said with a meaningful gaze at their surroundings, "to being accustomed to people always wanting something from you. I want to thank you for the trial, for insisting on involving the Centre's forensics team, and allowing me to access pertinent information— even if you didn't personally deliver the information to me."
"Don't mention it," Parker said, stiffly. "But don't expect any more favors."
"You knew Mark was telling the truth, didn't you?" Jarod asked. "About the blood in Miuna's room," he clarified. "That, coupled with the unclear forensics reports, is reasonable doubt."
"No one in the tower doubts that Mark murdered Miuna. He confessed, he's dead, end of story."
"I don't give a damn about the tower, or what the people inside think of me. I saw your face when Mark denied planting the blood. You knew he was telling the truth."
"You're really doing this now?"
"I might not have another opportunity; after all, I haven't had one until now. Good job avoiding me, by the way."
"Until now," Parker murmured angrily.
Jarod agreed with a nod. "They've separated us before, and there's nothing to stop them from doing it again, and who knows, hmm, they could stop my heart again, induce amnesia, isolate me on another continent. I couldn't allow you to continue suspecting the worst about me, and if they kill me I didn't want that to be the last thought I have before I die."
"I don't understand why this bothers you so much, Jarod. Mark had every reason to lie about planting that blood. Even if he was telling the truth, any one of those other men could have planted the blood. And," Parker added with a shrug, "a woman her age? Finding blood in the hamper is hardly a surprise, or a mystery, or a crime."
"But Mark didn't lie, and no one planted any blood, and Miuna wasn't menstruating. He was telling the truth about Miuna's sexuality, too," Jarod explained. "She'd never slept with a man—"
"Don't," Parker shouted. "I'm not your fucking priest, Jarod, and I suggest you worry less about clearing your conscience and more about getting the hell out of here." Shaking her head, and evidently anticipating Jarod to step aside, Parker advanced. "Are you going to move or—"
"Or," Jarod interrupted softly. "It's not going to be that easy anymore. Avoiding me," he clarified.
Free-range Jarod, indeed.
"There's no where for either of us to run now. They're watching your home, aren't they, and surveilling you?" Jarod asked.
"You can run. You've escaped before," Parker reasoned, stepping into her heels and bending to adjust the ankle straps. "I can't believe you already haven't."
"The Centre and Triumvirate won't be alone in their international manhunt for me if I'm ever capable of successfully escaping the premises again."
"If? Jarod, you're a Pretender. There's nothing you can't do."
"Yes, and for now I'm cooperating with Faraijii."
"Why?" Parker asked, her voice faltering and plaintive; she was visibly startled to hear it.
Jarod frowned, and with a slow shake of head stammered to himself, "It doesn't make sense that Faraijii would withhold this from you." Meeting Parker's questioning gaze, Jarod explained to her in a hoarse, low voice, "Faraijii is implementing the Centre's new personnel tracking system; I was the second person to receive the implants after-"
"Remove the implants," Parker demanded. "Run."
"The second," Jarod repeated himself softly, "after Angelo."
Parker eyes briefly widened.
If Angelo and my baby brother aren't together--?
What if-
Jarod's words shook Parker's from theorizing further.
"It seems that Faraijii knows exactly how to secure my full cooperation," Jarod added gravely. "You aren't surprised. Horrified, not surprised."
"Is Angelo— is he hurt?" Parker asked, lowering her tear-filled gaze, briefly, to the floor.
"No. I'll never allow that to happen."
"Then he's here," Parker said with some relief.
"No," Jarod answered, and hastily amended, "I don't know." Jarod pushed a hand through his hair, and confessed softly, "I haven't determined his location yet, but I'm allowed to see and speak to him via video conferencing every day. He's safe, and that's not going to change. I promise you."
Parker lifted her gaze, and argued lightly, "You're in no position to make promises. God, how the hell did I let this happen?"
"Hey," Jarod whispered, summoning every ounce of restraint he owned to stay where he was, and not run to her, "this isn't your fault."
"Right," Parker said without conviction, "You- Jarod, you escaped because you didn't want to be complicit in their crimes."
"I know, but now I must be. For now. I'm aware of the greater implications, that innocent people could be killed. Please don't ask me to reconsider. I can't."
"No," Parker agreed with a sullen head shake that dislodged the tears standing in her eyes. "No, I know, it's— it's Angelo. You don't have a choice."
"But you still do maybe," Jarod asserted eagerly. "And Broots. If you're able to safely do it you should go, leave tonight, before it's too late, and take your little brother and Sydney with you."
"But Faraijii doesn't need us, or our cooperation. He has you now," Parker argued. "This was their end game. They're just using Angelo as insurance to protect their investment, ensure your cooperation. Aren't they?"
Parker wanted it to be true, wanted Jarod to agree with her, disprove the theories plaguing her mind.
Jarod shook his head slowly, and answered with a deep frown, "I know that's what you want to believe, and I know this-- this is a lot. I don't want you to panic, and I'm not trying to frighten you, but I'm not overreacting, and I think you know I'm not. Faraijii craves everyone's cooperation, including yours. He wants to surround himself with yes-men, people eager to serve him."
"I brought you in. He has no reason to question my cooperation." And no reason to steal my baby brother, or believe he has to force me to stay here.
"Maybe, but you and I know the truth, don't we," Jarod countered gently, "and it isn't getting any easier for either of us to conceal it, and if Faraijii discovers-- Christ," Jarod murmured.
Pushing a trembling hand through his hair, he continued with some hesitance, "Not to mention you look exactly like your mother; they believe your resemblance to her is an unfavorable omen.
Now is the time to act," Jarod added, entering the anteroom. "Before it's too late. Sydney knows how to contact my father. Dad will assist you in leaving the states. I- I want you to know that I--" Jarod fell silent, closed his eyes, cursed the timing. He refused to burden Parker with those words. Instead, he smiled warmly, and said, "It's important to me that you take care of yourself."
"Yeah," Parker said, somberly, "same. I'll— see you."
"You will," Jarod vowed with a grin that was both mischievous and reassuring, and that disappeared to reveal agony and remorse when the door closed behind Parker.
A lie.
She's always going to remember that the last words I said to her were a lie.
Jarod had been so thoroughly absorbed in his own deception—its flawless execution, and the shame it induced—he hadn't detected Parker's.