Written a few years ago now. Not exactly my best or favourite piece. But it's okay, I guess. Apologies for the grammar.

Last Chance
Things I Need To Tell You



It was a dingy warehouse that Miss Parker found herself in, not unlike every other dingy place that Jarod had stayed in over the years, full of his latest snack treat (chocolate ice cream topping), PEZ, and red note books. She could tell it was his current lair by the DSA player sitting along side a brand-new laptop. Still she reasoned; it was better than the cargo container. Parker sat down on the bed, which was little more than a mattress on the floor; and immediately stood up again, while Jarod wasn't exactly a filthy person she still shuddered to think what was on the bed with her.

She started to pace after almost an hour, but this did not alleviate the lack of anything to do with her hands. It made her want a cigarette, which she considered strange after all these years. Another hour passed, she stripped herself of her jacket and empty holster - though it worried her to do so she had left her gun at the hotel - the last thing she needed was to become tempted to use it and shoot wonder-boys inflated head.

Jarod arrived almost 3 hours after she had. He opened the door, still in a deep-blue business suit, to find her once again on the bed, as soon as he caught sight of her his eyes widened in shock and fear, he scanned the room and tried to bolt. Only to find the door he’d closed behind him locked.

“I have the key, Jarod, and I’ll give it to you in a second.”

Jarod turned, angry at this strange form of imprisonment, she saw him eye the key she had pulled out and then glance to the windows.

“You could jump; but it’d be quicker, easier and less painful to actually listen to what I’ve stayed in this hell hole for hours to tell you.”

Jarod regarded her for a moment, his eyes now flickering to the waist band of her pants, which usually held her holster, she gestured to the table.

“Where's your gun?” he said warily, noting the holsters emptiness.

“At the hotel,” she replied simply.

He eyed her with obvious doubt but apparently decided to believe her as he started to quickly gather what little possessions she had seen in the room.

“Why are you here, Miss Parker?” he asked, having just gathered up his PEZ dispensers.

Miss Parker suddenly looked uncomfortable; she got up and paced the room again.

Eventually she said, “They’ve found a way to bring you back, Jarod, and this time its fool proof.”

Jarod looked up from packing his leather jacket, “How?” he asked, curiosity betraying the hard lines that had appeared on his face.

“It’s remarkably simple,” she explained continuing pacing, avoiding him as she did another circuit of the room.

“The Powers That Be all sat down in a little room, much like they must have done when they decided to introduce us, and when they put me in charge of the hunt, and they decided to destroy the one thing you rely on in the real world.”

“What's that?”

“Your credibility, Jarod,” she sighed, “in just under 4 hours America’s Most Wanted will be doing an entire show on an elusive chameleon, a young man who was tragically injured an accident where he lost his memory.

“He escaped the Delaware facility that had been caring for him. And for the last five years, has been wandering the country trying to find the family that was killed in the accident,” she stopped to take a breath, and began just as she had before; in a perfectly detached manner that was betrayed by the sadness and anger he could read in her eyes.

“He is a dangerous vigilante who has acquired a perverse sense of justice, he likes to imitate professionals - in particular doctors. His remaining family has fronted a million dollar reward for information leading to his capture and return to the institute.”

Jarod just gaped, she understood exactly; she had done the same thing when Sydney had told her.

“Million dollar reward … perverse sense of justice … family killed in an accident!”

“It wasn't my idea,” Miss Parker tried to explain, though she knew that even if he believed her (and a dismissive wave of his hand told her he did) she wouldn’t escape this anger.

“So what are you doing here Miss Parker? Wanted to see my face when they destroyed what little I had? Come to gloat?” he yelled, temper rising.

“No,” she said, making sure her voice didn’t rise with his.

“Then what,” he hissed, “are you here for?”

She didn't look at him when she said it, “To give you a head start, Jarod, as much as I hate your guts some times, you don’t deserve to be hunted, lest of all by the very people you tried to save, you deserve a head start.

“So go to some small country or across the border and stay the hell away.” Her voice got small suddenly, “And also because I know now that even if I dragged you in by your ear I’d never be free, the Powers That Be seem to like me on their twisted game board, so go and be fucking free for me.”

Jarod stood stunned for a moment, then crossed the room to where she was - avoiding the mattress as he did so - he stopped in front of her, his eyes unusually bright. She looked further away but didn't struggle as he took her hands in his.

“I just want you to know, Miss Parker,” he said, his voice a mere whisper, “that if I could free you - you’d be free.”

Though she was not directly looking at him, he could tell her eyes where also bright.

“So you’ll actually do as I ask?”

Jarod grinned, and shook his head, “Never.”

Bright tears fell to the grimy floor, Jarod’s grin failed.

“Don’t cry, Parker,” he pleaded, “I hate it when you cry.”

She ignored him, “They’ll catch you and they may even kill you.”

The words echoed around the room, catching in between them. They, Jarod though, she said they, not us but they.

“I know you can’t understand this, but I still need to make amends for what I’ve done - what they made me do.”

Parker nodded her head in a rare moment of agreement, “I do understand, better than you know, and sometimes I wish I could do what you do, but I’m afraid this is the best I can do.”

Jarod smiled again and realised that he still held her hands, but he didn't drop them and she didn't pull away.

“I know, and I appreciate it all the more because I know that.”

Miss Parker smiled, not the usual predatory smile she wore when she caught him, or the weak smiles she gave when she was expected to. This was a real smile. It made his heart warm.

He brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed it, her square ring brushing his cheek. He brought her hand down but didn't let go, he was too captivated by her eyes, which somewhere along the way had turned towards him, and were now gazing at him.

“What,” he asked after they had remained that way for several moments.

“I’ve been chasing you for too long, Jarod.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve grown to use to you,” she admitted, “I’ve gotten use to your late night phone calls, your tormenting, your jokes, I’ve just gotten use to you.”

Their faces had gotten closer during her speech; unconsciously Parker found herself wetting her lips.

“Do you trust me, Melanie?”

They where so close that if either moved their lips would touch but she was determined not to let that stop her responding. “With my life,” she breathed.

Jarod smiled, “I may just call you on that one day,” he said as he closed the distance between them.

The next morning Miss Parker woke up in her hotel room, not really aware of how they’d managed to get there but remembering clearly her firm insistence that it needed to be her place. She rolled over; fully expecting an empty space beside her, breakfast on a chair (because he told her she was to thin) and a note on the mirror telling her he was sorry he missed her.

She was not disappointed.