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Not Miss Parker Anymore
by Mareen.
No-one called her Miss Parker anymore.
She was Mrs Parker now, because she'd never married, but it would have been strange if a woman of her age would still be called a "Miss".
So she was Mrs Parker instead and everyone was afraid of her, which meant it had ended just like the Centre had wanted it to end from the very beginning of her life.
Yes, she was "Mrs Parker" now, one of the Centre's institutions, just like her father had been.
She hadn't intended this.
After all she had found out about herself and the Centre and their past, taking her father's job after his death had been the last thing she'd wanted to do. But she was here, in his office, which was her office now for so many years. This wasn't what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. But it was a decision she had to make, one she had been forced into with such a cruel force, everyone else would have become crazy about it.
But she hadn't.
Instead, she'd become Mrs Parker.
Resting in Hell.
They had blackmailed her into this.
They had made it a decision between herself and Jarod and her child. She had chosen the child and never told Jarod about it. He never even knew he was a father. She knew him too well to tell him. He would have insisted to find a way out, to choose another path than the one she had chosen. But she had always known there wasn't another way. The Centre would have never let them go. They would have hunted them down, just like they'd promised her. They would have caught them and made them all prisoners. Trying to escape would have always meant failure.
But their child was free and the only price she'd paid was her own and Jarod's freedom and Jarod's trust in her and their love. It had grown up at a peaceful place with loving parents. She had taken good care of that. It was the only thing she could have done.
Yes, the Centre absolutely owned her for thirty years now. The Tower had made her boss of the Centre. And she was good at it. They had always been able to see talents.
She had done terrible things.
Like father, like daughter. Like her father had been, she was behind the abduction of children, the murder of a lot of people. Terrible things.
But the two worst things for her had always been that Jarod hated her and the knowledge that he was right about it in a way.
"Mrs Parker?"
The sweeper had surprised her a bit. She had become older. She was old. 70 years, an old woman. But she was still as tall and elegant as in her youth, the greyish hair bound back into a knot, the silver ring still on her finger. The years in the Centre had marked her eyes though. They where hard and unmoving. They never showed what she really felt, at least as long as there were people with her.
She was still frightening if she wanted to be.
"Yes?" she said and looked at the sweeper with an expression that made him take a step back.
"We need you downstairs. In SL-27. It's coming...to an end soon."
Jarod's place.
She immediately stood up and followed the sweeper.
They took the elevator and while they went down she was looking at that one place, where the bullet hole had been before she`d let it be removed. It had been the first thing she'd ordered when she became the new boss at the Centre. But she still looked at the place whenever she used the elevator.
"Age and not being able to get rid of bad habits seem to come in a package," she suddenly thought.
Her hand closed around the picture she had in her pocket, to assure herself that what she'd done was right. She had done it all for the child. It must have been the right thing.
"Where did they take him?" she asked.
"The infirmary."
When she entered, he was the first thing she saw, unmoving on the bed. He was so pale. So pale and sweaty. His eyes were closed.
"Oh God," she whispered. Then she turned around to the sweeper.
"Get out!"
"But..."
"Now!"
The sweeper left and she was alone with Jarod.
For minutes she was just standing there at the door and couldn't make herself go to him.
He hadn't changed that much. He was older, yes, the hair was white now, there was the beginning of a greyish beard on his face, and wrinkles everywhere. But he still had this certain calmness around him, he'd always had it, before everything went out of control so many years ago. And she knew that
his eyes, once he would open them, would still be dark like the night.
She was too afraid to go to him.
Afraid of the accusations, of the hate.
They hadn't seen each other for ten years. She had been watching him though, through the cameras. Never being able to touch him and always near crying, and sometimes he had looked back at her, staring at the camera`s eyes, as if he knew she was on the other side of it.
He was always staring at her with the same expression, hate and the accusation of betrayal.
She didn't want to see it again. So somehow she hoped, he wouldn't open his eyes.
She had always been able to fight down the tears when he looked at her like that. But the urge to cry was staying, and it was there now, while she was watched him on the bed, unmoving, obviously sick.
Dying.
She had finally said it. Jarod was dying.
Everyone died. Old people like them were dying every day. He was more than 70 years old now, an old man. He had had a long life. Somehow it was time, wasn't it?
They had both had a long, miserable, life and the only thing bright was their child, of which Jarod wasn't even aware of.
"Jarod," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." I'm so sorry I could never tell you.
He stirred in his sleep and so she finally went to him and pushed his grey, sweaty hair away from his face with a gentle movement. Touching him for the first time in 30 years. Since that day when she had opened the door of the hotel room where they'd met and let the sweepers in to get him.
She had touched him then, one last time, a gentle caressing of his face. And when they took him he had looked at her with this expression of disappointment and betrayal and fear. It was the last day, she had been able to cry, that day when they took him away from her.
She had then left the Centre for a year.
Jarod never saw her pregnant. He never saw the child.
When she came back to the Centre, she had felt dead inside and seeing his face again on the DSA's, had let her realise that she`d done the same to Jarod.
But she had saved their child and somehow that made it worth it, being dead and alive at the same time, for thirty years.
"Jarod," she said again, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Miss Parker?" he said and from the sound of his rusty voice she could say how surprised he was to see her.
"Mrs. Parker," she answered without giving it a second thought.
She immediately felt sorry for saying it. His face had gone dark.
"How do you feel?" she said.
"Just the way I look. I will be dead soon and you know it. Finally free, dear."
His voice was harsh. She closed her eyes for a second.
"I'm sorry."
"Yes. Sure. You always are, Parker."
"Can't you...can't you please forgive me? It's been so long now..."
"I trusted you. I loved you. I thought we were over the hunter and hunted thing. And then you betrayed me. And you followed your father. You run the damn Centre!"
He started coughing, so she tried to hold his head and give him some water, but he pushed her away. With a loud crashing sound the glass landed on the ground and broke into pieces, spreading the water everywhere.
"Jarod..."
"No. I want you to go."
"I'm here to show you something. I want to explain..."
She was getting desperate and she knew she sounded like it, too. She had never even considered the possibility that he wouldn't want to listen to her. He always had, all her life. She may have betrayed him. But somehow she had believed he would forgive her. He always had, hadn't he? He always had.
"There is nothing to explain. You made your decision a long time ago. You don't need to explain. I lived with your betrayal for thirty years now. I will live with it the last few days of my life, too. Go. I don't want to see you anymore."
Fear and the desperation made her start screaming at him. "No! You will listen to me now, you stupid old man!"
"Oh thanks! There she is again. Miss Parker. But you aren't Miss America anymore either, you know?"
She suddenly smiled, a bright smile, one she hadn't smiled in years.
"You can't be that ill," she said. "As long as you still behave like the same smart ass you've always been."
"Please," he whispered. "Please leave me alone."
"Why?" she answered, her voice shaky from the upcoming tears.
"Because I can't hate you when you look at me like that."
"Then don't hate me."
He closed his eyes.
"I need to know," he said without looking at her. "Will you tell me?"
"That's why I came here, Jarod."
"Then do it."
He was looking at her with unmoving eyes while she did it. She told him about the child and how the Centre found out and how they forced her to bring him in. How she had been forced to decide between him and the child. How she'd chosen the child. He nodded, when she said the words, "I chose the child." The emotion of pure relief that went through her body surprised even herself.
"I don't understand one thing," he suddenly said. "I don't understand why you are here. Why do you run the Centre?"
"It was part of the deal. Just like not being allowed to tell you. They feared you would be...diverted by the knowledge," she said. "But...I wanted to be here, too."
He was surprised and shocked. "Why?"
"I wanted to be with you."
And he nodded again.
She took his hand and just held it for a second until she realized that he was sweating, and touched his face to find him feverish.
"I'll get the doctor. You are burning," she said and tried to get away, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand again and holding it with surprising strength.
"No, there is nothing left for them to do for me. I need to hear more about...about our child."
"I have a picture!" She took it out of her pocket and gave it to him. Jarod`s hands were shaking when he looked at it.
"She is beautiful," he whispered. She could see the tears in his eyes while he looked at the photograph.
"And so bright. And she has your eyes," she answered with a shaky voice.
"Yeah," he answered and sobbed. She caressed his face and felt him leaning into her touch.
"Why are you telling me now?" he said then. "The Tower is still there. The Centre can still hurt our child. Is it because I don't have much time left?"
She had feared that question though she had always known it would come sooner or later. She just wished she could have told him something else.
"No. It's because they can't hurt her anymore," she answered and for the first time since all of this had started, tears were running down her face. "No-one can."
His face went blank. "What do you mean?" he whispered. "Why?"
"Because she is dead. There was an accident. And she is dead."
She started to cry then, thirty years of tears being shed at last. Slowly first, then more desperate. Jarod's mouth was opening and closing. He couldn't say anything. What was there left to say?
So he just closed his arms around her and embraced her, crying with her at last for a child he'd never known but had loved just the same.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you earlier," she sobbed into his ear. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he said. "You did the best you could.... Now we are together again. We will get over this. I've missed you so much. I missed you."
He held her as tight as he could, wishing he had more time. But he could feel death coming.
There were so many things to hear and so little time.
"Tell me. I need to know now."
"She was such a wonderful child," Parker whispered.
"I know," he answered. "That's because she was ours."
End.
by Mareen.
No-one called her Miss Parker anymore.
She was Mrs Parker now, because she'd never married, but it would have been strange if a woman of her age would still be called a "Miss".
So she was Mrs Parker instead and everyone was afraid of her, which meant it had ended just like the Centre had wanted it to end from the very beginning of her life.
Yes, she was "Mrs Parker" now, one of the Centre's institutions, just like her father had been.
She hadn't intended this.
After all she had found out about herself and the Centre and their past, taking her father's job after his death had been the last thing she'd wanted to do. But she was here, in his office, which was her office now for so many years. This wasn't what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. But it was a decision she had to make, one she had been forced into with such a cruel force, everyone else would have become crazy about it.
But she hadn't.
Instead, she'd become Mrs Parker.
Resting in Hell.
They had blackmailed her into this.
They had made it a decision between herself and Jarod and her child. She had chosen the child and never told Jarod about it. He never even knew he was a father. She knew him too well to tell him. He would have insisted to find a way out, to choose another path than the one she had chosen. But she had always known there wasn't another way. The Centre would have never let them go. They would have hunted them down, just like they'd promised her. They would have caught them and made them all prisoners. Trying to escape would have always meant failure.
But their child was free and the only price she'd paid was her own and Jarod's freedom and Jarod's trust in her and their love. It had grown up at a peaceful place with loving parents. She had taken good care of that. It was the only thing she could have done.
Yes, the Centre absolutely owned her for thirty years now. The Tower had made her boss of the Centre. And she was good at it. They had always been able to see talents.
She had done terrible things.
Like father, like daughter. Like her father had been, she was behind the abduction of children, the murder of a lot of people. Terrible things.
But the two worst things for her had always been that Jarod hated her and the knowledge that he was right about it in a way.
"Mrs Parker?"
The sweeper had surprised her a bit. She had become older. She was old. 70 years, an old woman. But she was still as tall and elegant as in her youth, the greyish hair bound back into a knot, the silver ring still on her finger. The years in the Centre had marked her eyes though. They where hard and unmoving. They never showed what she really felt, at least as long as there were people with her.
She was still frightening if she wanted to be.
"Yes?" she said and looked at the sweeper with an expression that made him take a step back.
"We need you downstairs. In SL-27. It's coming...to an end soon."
Jarod's place.
She immediately stood up and followed the sweeper.
They took the elevator and while they went down she was looking at that one place, where the bullet hole had been before she`d let it be removed. It had been the first thing she'd ordered when she became the new boss at the Centre. But she still looked at the place whenever she used the elevator.
"Age and not being able to get rid of bad habits seem to come in a package," she suddenly thought.
Her hand closed around the picture she had in her pocket, to assure herself that what she'd done was right. She had done it all for the child. It must have been the right thing.
"Where did they take him?" she asked.
"The infirmary."
When she entered, he was the first thing she saw, unmoving on the bed. He was so pale. So pale and sweaty. His eyes were closed.
"Oh God," she whispered. Then she turned around to the sweeper.
"Get out!"
"But..."
"Now!"
The sweeper left and she was alone with Jarod.
For minutes she was just standing there at the door and couldn't make herself go to him.
He hadn't changed that much. He was older, yes, the hair was white now, there was the beginning of a greyish beard on his face, and wrinkles everywhere. But he still had this certain calmness around him, he'd always had it, before everything went out of control so many years ago. And she knew that
his eyes, once he would open them, would still be dark like the night.
She was too afraid to go to him.
Afraid of the accusations, of the hate.
They hadn't seen each other for ten years. She had been watching him though, through the cameras. Never being able to touch him and always near crying, and sometimes he had looked back at her, staring at the camera`s eyes, as if he knew she was on the other side of it.
He was always staring at her with the same expression, hate and the accusation of betrayal.
She didn't want to see it again. So somehow she hoped, he wouldn't open his eyes.
She had always been able to fight down the tears when he looked at her like that. But the urge to cry was staying, and it was there now, while she was watched him on the bed, unmoving, obviously sick.
Dying.
She had finally said it. Jarod was dying.
Everyone died. Old people like them were dying every day. He was more than 70 years old now, an old man. He had had a long life. Somehow it was time, wasn't it?
They had both had a long, miserable, life and the only thing bright was their child, of which Jarod wasn't even aware of.
"Jarod," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." I'm so sorry I could never tell you.
He stirred in his sleep and so she finally went to him and pushed his grey, sweaty hair away from his face with a gentle movement. Touching him for the first time in 30 years. Since that day when she had opened the door of the hotel room where they'd met and let the sweepers in to get him.
She had touched him then, one last time, a gentle caressing of his face. And when they took him he had looked at her with this expression of disappointment and betrayal and fear. It was the last day, she had been able to cry, that day when they took him away from her.
She had then left the Centre for a year.
Jarod never saw her pregnant. He never saw the child.
When she came back to the Centre, she had felt dead inside and seeing his face again on the DSA's, had let her realise that she`d done the same to Jarod.
But she had saved their child and somehow that made it worth it, being dead and alive at the same time, for thirty years.
"Jarod," she said again, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"Miss Parker?" he said and from the sound of his rusty voice she could say how surprised he was to see her.
"Mrs. Parker," she answered without giving it a second thought.
She immediately felt sorry for saying it. His face had gone dark.
"How do you feel?" she said.
"Just the way I look. I will be dead soon and you know it. Finally free, dear."
His voice was harsh. She closed her eyes for a second.
"I'm sorry."
"Yes. Sure. You always are, Parker."
"Can't you...can't you please forgive me? It's been so long now..."
"I trusted you. I loved you. I thought we were over the hunter and hunted thing. And then you betrayed me. And you followed your father. You run the damn Centre!"
He started coughing, so she tried to hold his head and give him some water, but he pushed her away. With a loud crashing sound the glass landed on the ground and broke into pieces, spreading the water everywhere.
"Jarod..."
"No. I want you to go."
"I'm here to show you something. I want to explain..."
She was getting desperate and she knew she sounded like it, too. She had never even considered the possibility that he wouldn't want to listen to her. He always had, all her life. She may have betrayed him. But somehow she had believed he would forgive her. He always had, hadn't he? He always had.
"There is nothing to explain. You made your decision a long time ago. You don't need to explain. I lived with your betrayal for thirty years now. I will live with it the last few days of my life, too. Go. I don't want to see you anymore."
Fear and the desperation made her start screaming at him. "No! You will listen to me now, you stupid old man!"
"Oh thanks! There she is again. Miss Parker. But you aren't Miss America anymore either, you know?"
She suddenly smiled, a bright smile, one she hadn't smiled in years.
"You can't be that ill," she said. "As long as you still behave like the same smart ass you've always been."
"Please," he whispered. "Please leave me alone."
"Why?" she answered, her voice shaky from the upcoming tears.
"Because I can't hate you when you look at me like that."
"Then don't hate me."
He closed his eyes.
"I need to know," he said without looking at her. "Will you tell me?"
"That's why I came here, Jarod."
"Then do it."
He was looking at her with unmoving eyes while she did it. She told him about the child and how the Centre found out and how they forced her to bring him in. How she had been forced to decide between him and the child. How she'd chosen the child. He nodded, when she said the words, "I chose the child." The emotion of pure relief that went through her body surprised even herself.
"I don't understand one thing," he suddenly said. "I don't understand why you are here. Why do you run the Centre?"
"It was part of the deal. Just like not being allowed to tell you. They feared you would be...diverted by the knowledge," she said. "But...I wanted to be here, too."
He was surprised and shocked. "Why?"
"I wanted to be with you."
And he nodded again.
She took his hand and just held it for a second until she realized that he was sweating, and touched his face to find him feverish.
"I'll get the doctor. You are burning," she said and tried to get away, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand again and holding it with surprising strength.
"No, there is nothing left for them to do for me. I need to hear more about...about our child."
"I have a picture!" She took it out of her pocket and gave it to him. Jarod`s hands were shaking when he looked at it.
"She is beautiful," he whispered. She could see the tears in his eyes while he looked at the photograph.
"And so bright. And she has your eyes," she answered with a shaky voice.
"Yeah," he answered and sobbed. She caressed his face and felt him leaning into her touch.
"Why are you telling me now?" he said then. "The Tower is still there. The Centre can still hurt our child. Is it because I don't have much time left?"
She had feared that question though she had always known it would come sooner or later. She just wished she could have told him something else.
"No. It's because they can't hurt her anymore," she answered and for the first time since all of this had started, tears were running down her face. "No-one can."
His face went blank. "What do you mean?" he whispered. "Why?"
"Because she is dead. There was an accident. And she is dead."
She started to cry then, thirty years of tears being shed at last. Slowly first, then more desperate. Jarod's mouth was opening and closing. He couldn't say anything. What was there left to say?
So he just closed his arms around her and embraced her, crying with her at last for a child he'd never known but had loved just the same.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you earlier," she sobbed into his ear. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he said. "You did the best you could.... Now we are together again. We will get over this. I've missed you so much. I missed you."
He held her as tight as he could, wishing he had more time. But he could feel death coming.
There were so many things to hear and so little time.
"Tell me. I need to know now."
"She was such a wonderful child," Parker whispered.
"I know," he answered. "That's because she was ours."
End.
