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Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and used without permission.
Silent Declarations I
by Nicky
* * * * * * * * * *
I plop down angrily on my bed, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I had just taken a nice, hot shower to wash away all the stresses of the day. Why did he have to call now? Why does he have to call me at all?
"This is a really bad time, Jarod," I complain. Not that any other time would be better. It's just I really didn't feel like any of his mind games right at this moment.
"Is it ever a good time for you, Miss Parker?" he asks me with a laugh.
How did he do that? He always knows somehow what I'm thinking. Even when I don't say anything.
"What do you want?" I ask him exasperatingly in an effort to expedite the phone call. Maybe if I play along like a good girl, he'll hang up soon.
"Nothing," he sighs.
He obviously doesn't have anything better to do than torment me. I lay back on my pillows. This was going to be a long conversation.
"I guess I just wanted to talk to you," he admits finally.
Oh, poor thing. He's lonely. Well too bad. I can't deal with this tonight. Not that I have big plans for this Saturday night. Still, the plans that I did have didn't involve listening to him whine all night long.
"Jarod, why don't you write me a letter when you figure out what it is that you want. I don't have time to play Miss Lonely Hearts," I tell him in the meanest voice possible. I hate when people waste my time.
"I'm sorry I'm wasting your time, Parker. Besides, I didn't think you had much planned for this evening."
He did it again! Am I saying stuff out loud and not even realizing it? Or does he just know me that well that he can listen to my different tones and inflections and figure out what I'm thinking? It's all too creepy to me.
"Jarod, I'm going to hang up now. You're starting to freak me out." I go to hang up the phone when I hear him begging me not to. I know I'm going to regret this later, but I bring the phone back up to my ear.
"I don't really want anything. I figured we could just talk for awhile. Like we did when were were kids. I miss that."
His voice sounded so pitiful. And to tell you the truth, I kind of miss our friendship at times, too. But it's so hard to think of him as a friend. After all we've been through the past few years.
"Okay. So talk," I say to him impatiently. "I'm listening."
"You really should learn to relax," he tells me. Like that's a lesson I need to learn from him. "You sound really tense."
"Well, that's what I was trying to do. Until I got this little phone call from you," I start to say before I can think about what I was saying. I was just so used to jumping to the defensive whenever he called me.
"Sorry. Force of habit. I'll be nice," I promise.
Or as nice as I can be, I think to myself with a wicked little grin. What fun is nice? Besides, it'll be more fun to mess with his head a bit for a change.
"As nice as you can be," he laughs.
Okay, there goes that freaky little mind reading thing again. Great. Not only do I have to worry about what I'm going to say, but I'll also have to be careful about what I'm thinking.
We talk for hours. About everything. And about nothing in particular. We tried to keep things on neutral territory. Nothing about work. Nothing about sweepers or probing questions to find out where he was hiding this week. It was actually kind of nice to have a friendly conversation with somebody. Especially an old friend.
"This is nice," Jarod says with a yawn. We'd been on the phone for awhile and I guess he was getting tired. I was pretty sleepy myself.
"I'll admit that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," I say sheepishly. I didn't want to give too much away as to how I was really feeling.
Actually, I thought it was really, really nice. And comforting. I felt like I was 12 years old again when Jarod and I would sneak down into the sublevels and find a private little corner to hang out. We'd just sit there and talk about all sorts of things. What it would be like to be away from the Centre. What life would be like when we grew up. It's funny how our daydreams of the future always included each other. But we never thought we'd end up the way that we are. Bitter enemies who can't even be in the same room with each other.
That thought made me sad. And all I wanted at that moment was for Jarod to be right next to me. Laying with me and holding me in his arms. And we could dream about life away from the Centre. We could have dreams about our future. A future together. But it was too dangerous to say it out loud anymore. I couldn't tell him. What would be the point? We're not kids anymore. And the next morning, I'd just have to get up, go to the Centre, and start again on the hunt for him. No matter my heart was telling me. No matter what I really wanted to do. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was born into this life.
But he was stolen and forced into it, I remind myself. He didn't have a choice, either. So why am I mad that he took the first chance he could to get away? I should be proud of him for his strength. I should be thankful for his courage to leave that place and try to make a life for himself that we used to dream about. A life that we vowed to live together.
But that was all a childish fantasy. Wasn't it? There's no way we can live that life. What we felt for each other back then was just puppy love, right? I've done too much to destroy the bridge between us. I chase after him every day of his life to take him back to that prison. No matter how much he sacrifices for me. He's lost his brother because of me. He's lost his father and the clone because of me. And he even lost his freedom because of me. And what did I do to thank him? I recovered from my gunshot wound and went right back to chasing him. A wound given to me by the same Centre I vow to serve day in and day out. The same Centre who killed my mother. And my lover. Why am I still there again? How can I possibly justify my employment there to myself and to my conscience?
Because I'm a coward. And I'm weak. I lack the courage and fortitude to leave that place. I cannot admit that Jarod does not belong there. And I cannot admit that my father is a monster. I can't say it out loud anyway. But I know in my heart. I know Jarod doesn't belong there. That's probably why I've never been able to really catch him. I always let something get in the way. And I know my father is a monster incapable of loving me the way I need to be loved. There's only one person, besides my mother, who's been able to do that. Jarod. It's another thing I cannot admit, but it's something I've always known. He loves me. Completely and purely.
And despite all I've done to forget him and our childhood dreams, I love him too. I gasp slightly at the realization. I can't believe that thought just came to my head. I can't . . . you know. The 'L' word. It can't be true. I can't admit to anything like that. But the more I try to deny it, the more something inside me tells me it's true. I can't say it out loud, but I feel it. And I know it. I love him. And my heart begins to ache for him.
"You sound tired," I say finally, after taking a few minutes to get back to my normal, tough as nails attitude, pushing all the feelings away. I can't feel them. I can't let him know.
"Yeah," he sighs, somehow sensing I was back to my old self. "I should probably go."
I don't say anything. I can't say anything. Because my heart was breaking. This would probably be the last time I could allow anything like this to happen. It was too dangerous. Because the next time, I might not be as resolved to keep my feelings to myself. I might be tempted to share with him what I really thought. What I really felt. What I really wanted. That all I really wanted was our dream. Being together. Loving each other forever.
"Good night, Parker," he whispers.
I let his deep voice echo around my head a few moments more before I get ready to hang up the phone. Good night, Jarod, my love, I want to say. But I can't. Not yet anyway. Maybe one day.
"Oh, and Parker," he says just before I hang up.
"What?" I respond, barely able to hold back my tears.
"The day will come. I'll wait forever if I have to. You'll be able to say it. You'll be able to tell me you love me as much as I know I love you."
Click.
I knew he loved me. But hearing it makes all the difference to me. It gives me courage. It gives me strength. And it gives me hope that someday I really will be able to say it.
The dial tone suddenly blares in my ear before I realize I'm still holding the phone to my head. Through tear-blurred eyes, I find the hook and hang up the phone. Holding it to my heart and praying that it'll ring. Praying that Jarod won't wait too long to call again. Because he deserves to hear what I'll say to him as much as I'm finally ready to say it.
by Nicky
* * * * * * * * * *
I plop down angrily on my bed, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I had just taken a nice, hot shower to wash away all the stresses of the day. Why did he have to call now? Why does he have to call me at all?
"This is a really bad time, Jarod," I complain. Not that any other time would be better. It's just I really didn't feel like any of his mind games right at this moment.
"Is it ever a good time for you, Miss Parker?" he asks me with a laugh.
How did he do that? He always knows somehow what I'm thinking. Even when I don't say anything.
"What do you want?" I ask him exasperatingly in an effort to expedite the phone call. Maybe if I play along like a good girl, he'll hang up soon.
"Nothing," he sighs.
He obviously doesn't have anything better to do than torment me. I lay back on my pillows. This was going to be a long conversation.
"I guess I just wanted to talk to you," he admits finally.
Oh, poor thing. He's lonely. Well too bad. I can't deal with this tonight. Not that I have big plans for this Saturday night. Still, the plans that I did have didn't involve listening to him whine all night long.
"Jarod, why don't you write me a letter when you figure out what it is that you want. I don't have time to play Miss Lonely Hearts," I tell him in the meanest voice possible. I hate when people waste my time.
"I'm sorry I'm wasting your time, Parker. Besides, I didn't think you had much planned for this evening."
He did it again! Am I saying stuff out loud and not even realizing it? Or does he just know me that well that he can listen to my different tones and inflections and figure out what I'm thinking? It's all too creepy to me.
"Jarod, I'm going to hang up now. You're starting to freak me out." I go to hang up the phone when I hear him begging me not to. I know I'm going to regret this later, but I bring the phone back up to my ear.
"I don't really want anything. I figured we could just talk for awhile. Like we did when were were kids. I miss that."
His voice sounded so pitiful. And to tell you the truth, I kind of miss our friendship at times, too. But it's so hard to think of him as a friend. After all we've been through the past few years.
"Okay. So talk," I say to him impatiently. "I'm listening."
"You really should learn to relax," he tells me. Like that's a lesson I need to learn from him. "You sound really tense."
"Well, that's what I was trying to do. Until I got this little phone call from you," I start to say before I can think about what I was saying. I was just so used to jumping to the defensive whenever he called me.
"Sorry. Force of habit. I'll be nice," I promise.
Or as nice as I can be, I think to myself with a wicked little grin. What fun is nice? Besides, it'll be more fun to mess with his head a bit for a change.
"As nice as you can be," he laughs.
Okay, there goes that freaky little mind reading thing again. Great. Not only do I have to worry about what I'm going to say, but I'll also have to be careful about what I'm thinking.
We talk for hours. About everything. And about nothing in particular. We tried to keep things on neutral territory. Nothing about work. Nothing about sweepers or probing questions to find out where he was hiding this week. It was actually kind of nice to have a friendly conversation with somebody. Especially an old friend.
"This is nice," Jarod says with a yawn. We'd been on the phone for awhile and I guess he was getting tired. I was pretty sleepy myself.
"I'll admit that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," I say sheepishly. I didn't want to give too much away as to how I was really feeling.
Actually, I thought it was really, really nice. And comforting. I felt like I was 12 years old again when Jarod and I would sneak down into the sublevels and find a private little corner to hang out. We'd just sit there and talk about all sorts of things. What it would be like to be away from the Centre. What life would be like when we grew up. It's funny how our daydreams of the future always included each other. But we never thought we'd end up the way that we are. Bitter enemies who can't even be in the same room with each other.
That thought made me sad. And all I wanted at that moment was for Jarod to be right next to me. Laying with me and holding me in his arms. And we could dream about life away from the Centre. We could have dreams about our future. A future together. But it was too dangerous to say it out loud anymore. I couldn't tell him. What would be the point? We're not kids anymore. And the next morning, I'd just have to get up, go to the Centre, and start again on the hunt for him. No matter my heart was telling me. No matter what I really wanted to do. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was born into this life.
But he was stolen and forced into it, I remind myself. He didn't have a choice, either. So why am I mad that he took the first chance he could to get away? I should be proud of him for his strength. I should be thankful for his courage to leave that place and try to make a life for himself that we used to dream about. A life that we vowed to live together.
But that was all a childish fantasy. Wasn't it? There's no way we can live that life. What we felt for each other back then was just puppy love, right? I've done too much to destroy the bridge between us. I chase after him every day of his life to take him back to that prison. No matter how much he sacrifices for me. He's lost his brother because of me. He's lost his father and the clone because of me. And he even lost his freedom because of me. And what did I do to thank him? I recovered from my gunshot wound and went right back to chasing him. A wound given to me by the same Centre I vow to serve day in and day out. The same Centre who killed my mother. And my lover. Why am I still there again? How can I possibly justify my employment there to myself and to my conscience?
Because I'm a coward. And I'm weak. I lack the courage and fortitude to leave that place. I cannot admit that Jarod does not belong there. And I cannot admit that my father is a monster. I can't say it out loud anyway. But I know in my heart. I know Jarod doesn't belong there. That's probably why I've never been able to really catch him. I always let something get in the way. And I know my father is a monster incapable of loving me the way I need to be loved. There's only one person, besides my mother, who's been able to do that. Jarod. It's another thing I cannot admit, but it's something I've always known. He loves me. Completely and purely.
And despite all I've done to forget him and our childhood dreams, I love him too. I gasp slightly at the realization. I can't believe that thought just came to my head. I can't . . . you know. The 'L' word. It can't be true. I can't admit to anything like that. But the more I try to deny it, the more something inside me tells me it's true. I can't say it out loud, but I feel it. And I know it. I love him. And my heart begins to ache for him.
"You sound tired," I say finally, after taking a few minutes to get back to my normal, tough as nails attitude, pushing all the feelings away. I can't feel them. I can't let him know.
"Yeah," he sighs, somehow sensing I was back to my old self. "I should probably go."
I don't say anything. I can't say anything. Because my heart was breaking. This would probably be the last time I could allow anything like this to happen. It was too dangerous. Because the next time, I might not be as resolved to keep my feelings to myself. I might be tempted to share with him what I really thought. What I really felt. What I really wanted. That all I really wanted was our dream. Being together. Loving each other forever.
"Good night, Parker," he whispers.
I let his deep voice echo around my head a few moments more before I get ready to hang up the phone. Good night, Jarod, my love, I want to say. But I can't. Not yet anyway. Maybe one day.
"Oh, and Parker," he says just before I hang up.
"What?" I respond, barely able to hold back my tears.
"The day will come. I'll wait forever if I have to. You'll be able to say it. You'll be able to tell me you love me as much as I know I love you."
Click.
I knew he loved me. But hearing it makes all the difference to me. It gives me courage. It gives me strength. And it gives me hope that someday I really will be able to say it.
The dial tone suddenly blares in my ear before I realize I'm still holding the phone to my head. Through tear-blurred eyes, I find the hook and hang up the phone. Holding it to my heart and praying that it'll ring. Praying that Jarod won't wait too long to call again. Because he deserves to hear what I'll say to him as much as I'm finally ready to say it.
