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Disclaimer: Not mine. Even Craig & Steve aren't this cruel. Oh, and I've unashamedly stolen the title from a song by Sting.
A/N: For Gen. There's still some good in the world, if you look hard enough. Additional notes at end.
Lazarus Heart
Melanie-Anne
~*~
Parker stared with unseeing eyes at the fire crackling in front of her. Outside, the rain fell softly. Appropriate weather for a funeral, she thought. Someone had set a glass of scotch in front of her at some stage; it was still untouched. Surprisingly, she felt no need to drink. She felt nothing. There was a huge hole where her heart had once been. A year ago, she might not have noticed its absence. She might not have cared.
They thought it was grief. They thought she just needed time and everything would go back to normal. They were wrong. While he'd been alive, she had held the hope that they would one day be close again. There had been the possibility that they could forgive each other. She had believed that there was still some good left in the world, that fate wasn't entirely against her, that she deserved some kind of happy ending.
She'd been wrong. Fate had cruelly stepped in and reminded her exactly whose life she was living. She wished that just for once, she wouldn't have to play the lead in a tragedy.
There were muffled voices around her and she realized she wasn't alone. She glanced down at her hands and her breath caught in her throat. They were still covered in blood. Why had no one told her? She looked around, forcing herself to look at the faces of her friends. They all wore expressions of sympathy and pity—she didn't want that. She just wanted to be left alone. She slowly rose to her feet and left the room with a grace she didn't feel. She felt their eyes follow her out and forced herself not to draw attention to her hands.
Her bathroom smelled like lavender. It was strange; she'd never noticed that before. She turned the hot tap on and held her hands under the water. The blood wouldn't rinse off. She picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing. It was no use; the harder she scrubbed, the more blood she saw. Her hands were so red.
She leaned her elbows on the sink and bent her head forward. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't cry. She wasn't allowed to feel anything. The story of her life.
She didn't hear the slight creak of the door as someone pushed it open. She didn't protest when the intruder came to stand next to her and put his hand under the water. He pulled it back as quickly as he could and turned the tap off.
"Shit, Parker! That's hot."
Was it? She hadn't noticed. He turned the cold water on and held her hands under it. Now it hurt. She tried to pull away but his grip was too strong.
"Lyle, please—" Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Maybe it was just the request that was foreign. She knew her brother hated her but did he really have to torture her like this? "Lyle—"
"What the hell were you trying to do?"
She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern etched on his features. He had never looked at her like that before. Everything had changed. She exhaled and sagged against him. The pain didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.
"I just—The blood wouldn't come off. I—Look " She held up her hands for his inspection.
He sighed. "Parker, there is no blood on your hands."
"It came off, then."
He spoke slowly. She had never seen him this patient. "There wasn't any to start with."
"No, but—"
"Parker." He sighed. "Sydney's going to wonder where you've gotten to."
He led her out, one arm protectively around her shoulders. What had gotten into him? It almost seemed as if he cared. She smiled to herself; maybe some small part of him was human after all.
She sat in the chair she had previously occupied and resumed staring into the fire. Lyle was speaking again, but she'd stopped listening. Someone was wrapping something around her hands. She blinked to restore her focus. Sydney. He was covering her burned hands with gauze and bandages. It hurt to look at him and she didn't know why. It didn't occur to her to wonder how he felt about everything.
Wait. He was saying something.
"What's going to happen about Willie?"
Okay, so he wasn't addressing her. She saw Lyle from the corner of her eye.
"She's not in any trouble. The Triumvirate's pissed about what happened. They seem to think she shot him to punish him. I didn't give them any reason to think otherwise."
Sydney smiled. "Thank you."
"I'd never seen her like that. I mean, she watched our father jump out of a plane and went back to work as if nothing had happened. I didn't realize this would affect her so badly."
This sounded familiar. Parker forced herself to concentrate. Lyle and Sydney were speaking softly and she struggled to make out their exact words.
"They had a bond that went back to childhood. Deep down, she's always cared."
Oh, yes. She remembered. They were talking about her. And Jarod . . . oh. Oh.
She felt his blood hot against her fingers. Saw the look of terror in his eyes that said, Don't let me die alone. Heard herself telling him that he'd be okay. Felt Lyle's fingers grip her arm as he pulled her away, telling her it was too late. Looking at Willie's smug face and raising her gun—
Oh.
She was cold. She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered.
"Parker, why don't you go upstairs and rest?"
She met Sydney's gaze and nodded. Yes, rest. That was what she needed. One good night's sleep and she'd feel much better. She stood and smiled weakly. At the door, she heard Lyle tell Sydney he was worried about her. She blinked back tears.
*
It had stopped raining long enough for the sun to start peeking out from behind the clouds. Parker crossed the cemetery, the grass crunching under her feet. She reached Jarod's grave, and gasped at the reality of it all. There was no headstone yet, but the mound of dirt was still high. Some flowers remained from the day before. Parker looked at the bunch of forget-me-nots in her hand and laid it on top of the sand.
"I know you're not really here anymore, but I needed to speak to you one last time. I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. I—I wish things had turned out differently. That you'd found what you were looking for. I'm just . . . sorry. And I hope it's not too late. For Ethan, anyway."
She saw a chapel at the other end of the cemetery and made her way there. The door was open and she walked inside. There was a statue of the Madonna and child that Parker found herself drawn to.
"Oh, mama . . ."
"Can I help you, miss?"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine." She smiled at the priest and lit a candle, not quite sure who she was lighting it for.
*
"I'm sure she was here." Sydney gestured to the forget-me-nots.
Lyle sighed. "'Was' being the operative word. Where else would she go?"
"I don't know."
"I'm worried."
"Me too." A figure stepped out from behind a tree, hanging back. He looked suspiciously at Lyle.
"Ethan!" Sydney smiled in greeting.
"Do you know where Parker is?" Lyle asked.
Ethan shook his head. "She's in trouble. I need to find her before it's too late."
"I feel it too," Lyle said. Sydney shot him a surprised look and he shrugged.
Ethan looked at the grave, his expression clouding over. "I'm sorry," Sydney said.
"He wasn't alone. She wouldn't leave him." Lyle smiled at his half-brother.
Ethan managed to smile back. "I know."
*
Jarod's quarters at the Centre were filled with evidence of his discoveries on the outside world and clues he'd left for Parker and her team. She wandered through the room, trailing her fingers lightly over some of the items. She picked up a clown PEZ dispenser and smiled; in so many ways Jarod had never grown up. Eternally Peter Pan. How often had he tried to get her to be his Wendy?
She dropped the clown and moved on. Here was an enormous roll of bubble wrap. She popped a bubble. Jarod must have loved this discovery. Mr. Potato Head. Silly Putty. A Slinky. She sighed. It was time to leave. She already had what she'd come for.
There was a rustle from behind the grate of an air vent.
"Angelo?"
More movement.
"Thank you, Angelo. For everything." She smiled, and was gone.
*
Her business in Dover took less than half an hour. She climbed in her car and headed back to the Centre. The steering wheel hurt her hands, but she didn't care. When she arrived, she went down to the beach instead of going inside.
It was hard to walk on the sand in her heels so she kicked them off and approached the water's edge. The foam covered her feet and she stared down at her painted toenails. The wind whipped her hair around her face and she felt a few raindrops on her skin. She looked up at the Centre and smiled. So this was what freedom felt like.
*
Angelo sat in a corner of Jarod's room, rocking back and forth on his heels. He mumbled incoherently under his breath. Sydney sighed and looked at Lyle.
"He was found like this an hour ago. He won't let anyone approach him and he refuses to move."
"So I guess he's going to be no help to us."
"I'm sorry, Lyle. I'm sure she'll turn up when in her own time."
". . . Vill . . . Pill . . ."
They both turned to look at Angelo. Sydney took a step towards him and spoke softly. "Angelo?"
"Evil . . . people . . . evil . . . place. Parker safe now."
He would say no more, despite Sydney's prodding. Lyle shook his head and left the room.
*
Three days later, Sydney and Lyle stood on the beach, each holding an umbrella. The wind was strong, and cut through their clothes to chill their very bones. A handful of sweepers were nearby. Sydney caught Sam looking at him and lowered his eyes.
"Son of a bitch." Lyle's low growl caught his attention and he followed Lyle's gaze up to the Centre. Raines was standing on a balcony, watching the action on the beach. Sydney looked back at the figure dressed in black, lying on the sand.
She looked asleep. Her dark hair was tangled wildly and one of the bandages on her hand had come undone. Yet, her expression was peaceful and it almost looked like a slight smile tugged at her lips. Sydney let out a shuddery breath.
Someone knelt beside the body. "Don't touch her!" Lyle said.
I'm sorry, Sydney wanted to say. I'm sorry she chose this. I'm sorry you never told her how much you cared.
"Let's go," he said instead.
Lyle shook his head. "I want to make sure they take care of her."
"Alright." Sydney placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder and couldn't think of anything else to say. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to his eyes and made his way back up to the Centre. His heart had never been heavier.
*
Ethan recognized Parker's handwriting on the envelope. He ripped it open and emptied the contents onto the table. There was a folder marked 'Private'. He flipped it open and gasped. It contained everything Jarod had been searching for. Addresses where Margaret and Charles had been known to stay. Test results. Birth certificates.
Ethan slid the file across the table to Emily and opened a smaller envelope that had his name on it.
Dear Ethan,
I'm sorry. I'm sure you know what's happened by now but depending who you've spoken to, you might not know the truth. Jarod is dead. We tracked him to an animal clinic and Willie shot him. I tried to save him but the bullet had pierced his lung. So I sat with him. I owed him that much. I shot Willie. I'm not proud of it but I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. All I knew was that he'd taken away my oldest and dearest friend and I had to do something.
But it was more than that, too, and I know you know what I'm talking about. Did Jarod ever tell you what almost happened on the Island? I keep thinking that I should have gone with him then, and none of this would have happened. But they'd have found us eventually, I know that. There is no escape for me or for Jarod.
I stole this file from Raines' office. It's all there was. It's all I can do. You're on your own now, little brother. Please tell your family I'm sorry.
I know I don't have to do this. But I just keep thinking, what's the point? And you know what? There isn't one. It doesn't mean anything. Jarod didn't have to help all those people but he did, and what did it get him? Nothing. He never found what he was looking for. And he never gave up on me, even when I was the meanest person in his life. I didn't understand why until very recently.
Have you ever felt someone's absence so badly that you don't feel alive anymore?
I can't keep working at the Centre. They stole Jarod's life and your life and my life. And they will never let me leave. I wish . . . I wish . . . I wish I could start over.
I want you to know that for the first time in my life I feel absolutely peaceful. Don't cry for me. I promise I'll be okay.
I love you,
Parker
Ethan dropped the letter and buried his face in his hands. It was too late. He'd been too late.
"Ethan?"
He shook his head and passed the note to Emily. When she'd read it, she moved around the table to sit next to him.
"It isn't fair," she said.
"Life isn't fair."
She slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his shoulder. "At least they can't hurt them anymore."
Ethan sighed and nodded, but he still wished he'd found Parker in time.
FIN
~*~
Notes: I started this story with the intention of cheering myself up but it went in the complete opposite direction! For those who are wondering, I don't really believe the world is a terrible place, my faith in humankind just took a bit of a knock this week. Sorry, hope it wasn't too depressing. And yes, I know I'm supposed to be working on "Hayley" but sometimes you just gotta do what the muse wants you to do *g*
A/N: For Gen. There's still some good in the world, if you look hard enough. Additional notes at end.
Lazarus Heart
Melanie-Anne
~*~
Parker stared with unseeing eyes at the fire crackling in front of her. Outside, the rain fell softly. Appropriate weather for a funeral, she thought. Someone had set a glass of scotch in front of her at some stage; it was still untouched. Surprisingly, she felt no need to drink. She felt nothing. There was a huge hole where her heart had once been. A year ago, she might not have noticed its absence. She might not have cared.
They thought it was grief. They thought she just needed time and everything would go back to normal. They were wrong. While he'd been alive, she had held the hope that they would one day be close again. There had been the possibility that they could forgive each other. She had believed that there was still some good left in the world, that fate wasn't entirely against her, that she deserved some kind of happy ending.
She'd been wrong. Fate had cruelly stepped in and reminded her exactly whose life she was living. She wished that just for once, she wouldn't have to play the lead in a tragedy.
There were muffled voices around her and she realized she wasn't alone. She glanced down at her hands and her breath caught in her throat. They were still covered in blood. Why had no one told her? She looked around, forcing herself to look at the faces of her friends. They all wore expressions of sympathy and pity—she didn't want that. She just wanted to be left alone. She slowly rose to her feet and left the room with a grace she didn't feel. She felt their eyes follow her out and forced herself not to draw attention to her hands.
Her bathroom smelled like lavender. It was strange; she'd never noticed that before. She turned the hot tap on and held her hands under the water. The blood wouldn't rinse off. She picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing. It was no use; the harder she scrubbed, the more blood she saw. Her hands were so red.
She leaned her elbows on the sink and bent her head forward. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't cry. She wasn't allowed to feel anything. The story of her life.
She didn't hear the slight creak of the door as someone pushed it open. She didn't protest when the intruder came to stand next to her and put his hand under the water. He pulled it back as quickly as he could and turned the tap off.
"Shit, Parker! That's hot."
Was it? She hadn't noticed. He turned the cold water on and held her hands under it. Now it hurt. She tried to pull away but his grip was too strong.
"Lyle, please—" Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Maybe it was just the request that was foreign. She knew her brother hated her but did he really have to torture her like this? "Lyle—"
"What the hell were you trying to do?"
She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern etched on his features. He had never looked at her like that before. Everything had changed. She exhaled and sagged against him. The pain didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.
"I just—The blood wouldn't come off. I—Look " She held up her hands for his inspection.
He sighed. "Parker, there is no blood on your hands."
"It came off, then."
He spoke slowly. She had never seen him this patient. "There wasn't any to start with."
"No, but—"
"Parker." He sighed. "Sydney's going to wonder where you've gotten to."
He led her out, one arm protectively around her shoulders. What had gotten into him? It almost seemed as if he cared. She smiled to herself; maybe some small part of him was human after all.
She sat in the chair she had previously occupied and resumed staring into the fire. Lyle was speaking again, but she'd stopped listening. Someone was wrapping something around her hands. She blinked to restore her focus. Sydney. He was covering her burned hands with gauze and bandages. It hurt to look at him and she didn't know why. It didn't occur to her to wonder how he felt about everything.
Wait. He was saying something.
"What's going to happen about Willie?"
Okay, so he wasn't addressing her. She saw Lyle from the corner of her eye.
"She's not in any trouble. The Triumvirate's pissed about what happened. They seem to think she shot him to punish him. I didn't give them any reason to think otherwise."
Sydney smiled. "Thank you."
"I'd never seen her like that. I mean, she watched our father jump out of a plane and went back to work as if nothing had happened. I didn't realize this would affect her so badly."
This sounded familiar. Parker forced herself to concentrate. Lyle and Sydney were speaking softly and she struggled to make out their exact words.
"They had a bond that went back to childhood. Deep down, she's always cared."
Oh, yes. She remembered. They were talking about her. And Jarod . . . oh. Oh.
She felt his blood hot against her fingers. Saw the look of terror in his eyes that said, Don't let me die alone. Heard herself telling him that he'd be okay. Felt Lyle's fingers grip her arm as he pulled her away, telling her it was too late. Looking at Willie's smug face and raising her gun—
Oh.
She was cold. She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered.
"Parker, why don't you go upstairs and rest?"
She met Sydney's gaze and nodded. Yes, rest. That was what she needed. One good night's sleep and she'd feel much better. She stood and smiled weakly. At the door, she heard Lyle tell Sydney he was worried about her. She blinked back tears.
*
It had stopped raining long enough for the sun to start peeking out from behind the clouds. Parker crossed the cemetery, the grass crunching under her feet. She reached Jarod's grave, and gasped at the reality of it all. There was no headstone yet, but the mound of dirt was still high. Some flowers remained from the day before. Parker looked at the bunch of forget-me-nots in her hand and laid it on top of the sand.
"I know you're not really here anymore, but I needed to speak to you one last time. I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. I—I wish things had turned out differently. That you'd found what you were looking for. I'm just . . . sorry. And I hope it's not too late. For Ethan, anyway."
She saw a chapel at the other end of the cemetery and made her way there. The door was open and she walked inside. There was a statue of the Madonna and child that Parker found herself drawn to.
"Oh, mama . . ."
"Can I help you, miss?"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine." She smiled at the priest and lit a candle, not quite sure who she was lighting it for.
*
"I'm sure she was here." Sydney gestured to the forget-me-nots.
Lyle sighed. "'Was' being the operative word. Where else would she go?"
"I don't know."
"I'm worried."
"Me too." A figure stepped out from behind a tree, hanging back. He looked suspiciously at Lyle.
"Ethan!" Sydney smiled in greeting.
"Do you know where Parker is?" Lyle asked.
Ethan shook his head. "She's in trouble. I need to find her before it's too late."
"I feel it too," Lyle said. Sydney shot him a surprised look and he shrugged.
Ethan looked at the grave, his expression clouding over. "I'm sorry," Sydney said.
"He wasn't alone. She wouldn't leave him." Lyle smiled at his half-brother.
Ethan managed to smile back. "I know."
*
Jarod's quarters at the Centre were filled with evidence of his discoveries on the outside world and clues he'd left for Parker and her team. She wandered through the room, trailing her fingers lightly over some of the items. She picked up a clown PEZ dispenser and smiled; in so many ways Jarod had never grown up. Eternally Peter Pan. How often had he tried to get her to be his Wendy?
She dropped the clown and moved on. Here was an enormous roll of bubble wrap. She popped a bubble. Jarod must have loved this discovery. Mr. Potato Head. Silly Putty. A Slinky. She sighed. It was time to leave. She already had what she'd come for.
There was a rustle from behind the grate of an air vent.
"Angelo?"
More movement.
"Thank you, Angelo. For everything." She smiled, and was gone.
*
Her business in Dover took less than half an hour. She climbed in her car and headed back to the Centre. The steering wheel hurt her hands, but she didn't care. When she arrived, she went down to the beach instead of going inside.
It was hard to walk on the sand in her heels so she kicked them off and approached the water's edge. The foam covered her feet and she stared down at her painted toenails. The wind whipped her hair around her face and she felt a few raindrops on her skin. She looked up at the Centre and smiled. So this was what freedom felt like.
*
Angelo sat in a corner of Jarod's room, rocking back and forth on his heels. He mumbled incoherently under his breath. Sydney sighed and looked at Lyle.
"He was found like this an hour ago. He won't let anyone approach him and he refuses to move."
"So I guess he's going to be no help to us."
"I'm sorry, Lyle. I'm sure she'll turn up when in her own time."
". . . Vill . . . Pill . . ."
They both turned to look at Angelo. Sydney took a step towards him and spoke softly. "Angelo?"
"Evil . . . people . . . evil . . . place. Parker safe now."
He would say no more, despite Sydney's prodding. Lyle shook his head and left the room.
*
Three days later, Sydney and Lyle stood on the beach, each holding an umbrella. The wind was strong, and cut through their clothes to chill their very bones. A handful of sweepers were nearby. Sydney caught Sam looking at him and lowered his eyes.
"Son of a bitch." Lyle's low growl caught his attention and he followed Lyle's gaze up to the Centre. Raines was standing on a balcony, watching the action on the beach. Sydney looked back at the figure dressed in black, lying on the sand.
She looked asleep. Her dark hair was tangled wildly and one of the bandages on her hand had come undone. Yet, her expression was peaceful and it almost looked like a slight smile tugged at her lips. Sydney let out a shuddery breath.
Someone knelt beside the body. "Don't touch her!" Lyle said.
I'm sorry, Sydney wanted to say. I'm sorry she chose this. I'm sorry you never told her how much you cared.
"Let's go," he said instead.
Lyle shook his head. "I want to make sure they take care of her."
"Alright." Sydney placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder and couldn't think of anything else to say. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to his eyes and made his way back up to the Centre. His heart had never been heavier.
*
Ethan recognized Parker's handwriting on the envelope. He ripped it open and emptied the contents onto the table. There was a folder marked 'Private'. He flipped it open and gasped. It contained everything Jarod had been searching for. Addresses where Margaret and Charles had been known to stay. Test results. Birth certificates.
Ethan slid the file across the table to Emily and opened a smaller envelope that had his name on it.
Dear Ethan,
I'm sorry. I'm sure you know what's happened by now but depending who you've spoken to, you might not know the truth. Jarod is dead. We tracked him to an animal clinic and Willie shot him. I tried to save him but the bullet had pierced his lung. So I sat with him. I owed him that much. I shot Willie. I'm not proud of it but I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. All I knew was that he'd taken away my oldest and dearest friend and I had to do something.
But it was more than that, too, and I know you know what I'm talking about. Did Jarod ever tell you what almost happened on the Island? I keep thinking that I should have gone with him then, and none of this would have happened. But they'd have found us eventually, I know that. There is no escape for me or for Jarod.
I stole this file from Raines' office. It's all there was. It's all I can do. You're on your own now, little brother. Please tell your family I'm sorry.
I know I don't have to do this. But I just keep thinking, what's the point? And you know what? There isn't one. It doesn't mean anything. Jarod didn't have to help all those people but he did, and what did it get him? Nothing. He never found what he was looking for. And he never gave up on me, even when I was the meanest person in his life. I didn't understand why until very recently.
Have you ever felt someone's absence so badly that you don't feel alive anymore?
I can't keep working at the Centre. They stole Jarod's life and your life and my life. And they will never let me leave. I wish . . . I wish . . . I wish I could start over.
I want you to know that for the first time in my life I feel absolutely peaceful. Don't cry for me. I promise I'll be okay.
I love you,
Parker
Ethan dropped the letter and buried his face in his hands. It was too late. He'd been too late.
"Ethan?"
He shook his head and passed the note to Emily. When she'd read it, she moved around the table to sit next to him.
"It isn't fair," she said.
"Life isn't fair."
She slipped her hand into his and laid her head on his shoulder. "At least they can't hurt them anymore."
Ethan sighed and nodded, but he still wished he'd found Parker in time.
FIN
~*~
Notes: I started this story with the intention of cheering myself up but it went in the complete opposite direction! For those who are wondering, I don't really believe the world is a terrible place, my faith in humankind just took a bit of a knock this week. Sorry, hope it wasn't too depressing. And yes, I know I'm supposed to be working on "Hayley" but sometimes you just gotta do what the muse wants you to do *g*
