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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
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. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Author’s Note: Those of you who know my work and read these little author’s notes I’m so fond of know, aside from being absolutely in love with Jarod (mmm…fine male specimen) and the Pretender I’m a true blue x-phile to the core. I decided that, based on this, I might as well cross them over and see what happened, but remember kiddies, this is not an easy thing. Characterization if tough on the Pretender, but damn near impossible on the X-Files unless you’re really…really good (so I’ve found). So be patient, and if I totally botch this and mess with these beautiful characters to too high a degree beyond the comprehension of the meticulous mind, please feel free to rip on me all you like. I’ll deserve it. The Lynns feature prominently, as ever, so don’t mind them, I had loads of fun with this one. Thanx ever so much for your attention. On with the show.
Precious Blood
Part II: Unruhe
Matrea Nara
Jarod liked Maggie Scully’s couch. It was one of those huge, plush, cushy couches you could just burrow down and disappear in, all soft and pastel with embroidered throw pillows. Of course, in his current condition he wasn’t likely to be burrowing in anything, even the velvety cushions sent pin pricks of pain through his body wherever the made contact, but he was sure that any other day this couch would be the epitome of comfort.
Fevered and filmed with a cold sweat, he couldn’t stop trembling. Everything hurt. The dimmest light stung his eyes, the gentles sound pounded in his brain, the most feather-light touch seared his flesh. Every time he closed his eyes he heard them screaming, saw the bullets ripping into their young bodies. Whenever sleep claimed him he was plagued by nightmarish imaged of sweepers bursting through his window, shooting, going after the children. He woke up screaming every time and when he sat bolt upright he tore open his wounds again and bled afresh. He hoped Parker carried his message to Mulder and Scully. He needed a doctor, badly, and he could not trust the hospitals after this morning. He couldn’t trust anyone, not really. But maybe he could trust the agents…and he hoped he could trust Parker.
When he had received the e-mail from Angelo he had just been finishing up a late night doing paper work at the office. The news that the Tower had deployed a sweeper team to his apartment with shoot to kill orders for him and seek and retrieve orders for the kids had not only caught him off guard, it had driven the breath from his lungs with the force of a blow. He had rushed from the office as fast as he could, pressed the limits of the law all the way home, and burst into his apartment shouting for the kids to get packed while he did the same. After than everything had happened so quickly he had trouble remembering specifics. The shots that shattered his bedroom window he recalled clearly enough, and the kids calling his name. He remembered the instant the bullet had plowed into his chest, and the one that tore a furrow in his right thigh. And he remembered scrambling back to their room, seeing the trigger-happy sweeper misfiring and shooting the oldest boy. The blast had knocked Luke back, thrown him into the wall. Someone had cracked him over the head with the butt of a pistol just then, and he would live in torment the rest of his life knowing that the last sight he had seen of the boy was to watch him dying. No matter. The rest of his life would doubtless prove very short indeed.
Maggie did what she could for him, but she was no doctor. She kept him hydrated, fed him when she thought he could keep it down, and did her best to see that he was comfortable. He wasn’t comfortable, but on any other day he would have been, and he thanked her for that.
The sun was setting when the arrived. Mulder’s urgent pounding on the front door would have surely knocked it from its hinges if Maggie hadn’t answered as promptly as she had. Scully, brisk and efficient as ever, was at his side in an instant, pulling back the blanket Maggie had tucked around him and unbuttoning his shirt. She commended her mother on the sufficiency of the bandages, then told Jarod he was a damned fool for not going to a hospital.
“They wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for the hospital,” he said, and could tell she knew it was true. Mulder sat on the coffee table, just watching, waiting his turn.
“Where are the kids Jarod?” she inquired. The bullet was still in his chest and she would have to dig it out, but her maternal instincts had taken precedent and she would have that answer from him first. Tears sprang to his tortured brown eyes.
“I don’t…I don’t know. I saw them shoot Luca and then someone hit me…I didn’t see where they took them.” Mulder shifted.
“There were people clearing out your place when we got there.”
“Cleaners,” he said.
“Sharp looking woman, older man, squirrelly little guy looking like he was about to bolt every time she looked at him…”
“Miss Parker…Sydney…Broots.”
“Did they do this?” Jarod shook his head. Scully had gone to scrub her hands and arms below the elbow, and to retrieve some items she would need to remove the bullet.
“She told us where you were.”
“I asked her to.”
“So she’s someone we can trust?”
“Someone I can trust…in the right circumstances.” All this talking was taking a toll on him. He found himself anxious for Scully to get back and cut him open so he wouldn’t have to answer anymore of Mulder’s pointed questions. “She makes decisions according to the situation.”
“So she’ll hold a gun to your head but does what she has to do to keep you from getting killed.”
“That’s the general idea. It’s more…complicated.” Mulder nodded again, a rare, perfect comprehension on his face. His own relationships were complicated enough. He understood where Jarod was coming from.
“Ok Jarod,” Scully said, her tone coolly professional, “let’s get this slug out of you ok?” He nodded. “Mulder hold him down.”
****
When Jarod regained consciousness hours later he could hear them talking. He tried to stay still, wanting to hear what they were saying, but they must have been paying close attention to him because as soon as his breathing patterns changed they fell silent. He heard them drawing closer to him, the soft sounds of their feet on the carpet like thunder to him.
“Jarod? How are you feeling?” The tone of professional detachment in her voice did not quite hide her underlying concern.
“Is that a rhetorical question Agent Scully?” he quipped. She didn’t laugh. “I feel like I just got shot in the chest.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Mulder’s dry humor somehow made him feel better, but not much. He was still badly hurt and he still didn’t know where the kids were…and Parker was still hunting him, which only managed to make things worse. If she knew what was going on she would dig into this thing so deep there would be no uprooting her, and he didn’t want her to know just yet.
“We’ve got every contact in the city looking for the kids,” Mulder told him. “No word yet.”
“Contacts? The Lone Gunmen.” While Jarod was unfailingly amused by the three he would never trust them with three lives to dear to him.
“Don’t dismiss them so quickly. Besides the three of them the Lone Gunmen has readers in places you wouldn’t think possible. All they have to do is make some calls and we have people from the Defense Department to city garbage men searching.” Scully’s opinion of the LGM had never been overly high either, and her defense of them reassured Jarod.
“The Centre has friends too.”
“People like that don’t have friends, they have associates. Associates can usually be bought for the right price.”
“And what’s the right price? You don’t have anything to give them.”
“No, but we can dig up some things that will be incentive enough. What these people fear the most is exposure, and our guys excel at digging up high priced dirt.” Jarod just nodded. They didn’t understand. The Centre didn’t just have associates everywhere it was everywhere. No one every got out of the Centre. If it was a choice between betraying the Triumvirate and keeping an extramarital affair out of the papers he knew what the decision would be.
“If one of them got out,” Mulder was asking, “or was left for dead like you were, is there anyplace safe they know to go, where they know you’ll look for them?”
“Luke was down, and Arin would never leave him. They didn’t get out.”
“And Ryker?”
Jarod thought. He had spoken to them about her on occasion, and they had been fascinated. They had asked him questions and have him tell them stories into the wee hours of the morning. They wanted to know everything about her, like they wanted to know everything about him when first they met. Yes, he could see how Ryker might trust her with his life, even if they had never before met. If the boy had broken free he could have gone to her, it was definitely possible.
“Miss Parker. If he went anywhere, he would go to Miss Parker.”
Author’s Note: Those of you who know my work and read these little author’s notes I’m so fond of know, aside from being absolutely in love with Jarod (mmm…fine male specimen) and the Pretender I’m a true blue x-phile to the core. I decided that, based on this, I might as well cross them over and see what happened, but remember kiddies, this is not an easy thing. Characterization if tough on the Pretender, but damn near impossible on the X-Files unless you’re really…really good (so I’ve found). So be patient, and if I totally botch this and mess with these beautiful characters to too high a degree beyond the comprehension of the meticulous mind, please feel free to rip on me all you like. I’ll deserve it. The Lynns feature prominently, as ever, so don’t mind them, I had loads of fun with this one. Thanx ever so much for your attention. On with the show.
Precious Blood
Part II: Unruhe
Matrea Nara
Jarod liked Maggie Scully’s couch. It was one of those huge, plush, cushy couches you could just burrow down and disappear in, all soft and pastel with embroidered throw pillows. Of course, in his current condition he wasn’t likely to be burrowing in anything, even the velvety cushions sent pin pricks of pain through his body wherever the made contact, but he was sure that any other day this couch would be the epitome of comfort.
Fevered and filmed with a cold sweat, he couldn’t stop trembling. Everything hurt. The dimmest light stung his eyes, the gentles sound pounded in his brain, the most feather-light touch seared his flesh. Every time he closed his eyes he heard them screaming, saw the bullets ripping into their young bodies. Whenever sleep claimed him he was plagued by nightmarish imaged of sweepers bursting through his window, shooting, going after the children. He woke up screaming every time and when he sat bolt upright he tore open his wounds again and bled afresh. He hoped Parker carried his message to Mulder and Scully. He needed a doctor, badly, and he could not trust the hospitals after this morning. He couldn’t trust anyone, not really. But maybe he could trust the agents…and he hoped he could trust Parker.
When he had received the e-mail from Angelo he had just been finishing up a late night doing paper work at the office. The news that the Tower had deployed a sweeper team to his apartment with shoot to kill orders for him and seek and retrieve orders for the kids had not only caught him off guard, it had driven the breath from his lungs with the force of a blow. He had rushed from the office as fast as he could, pressed the limits of the law all the way home, and burst into his apartment shouting for the kids to get packed while he did the same. After than everything had happened so quickly he had trouble remembering specifics. The shots that shattered his bedroom window he recalled clearly enough, and the kids calling his name. He remembered the instant the bullet had plowed into his chest, and the one that tore a furrow in his right thigh. And he remembered scrambling back to their room, seeing the trigger-happy sweeper misfiring and shooting the oldest boy. The blast had knocked Luke back, thrown him into the wall. Someone had cracked him over the head with the butt of a pistol just then, and he would live in torment the rest of his life knowing that the last sight he had seen of the boy was to watch him dying. No matter. The rest of his life would doubtless prove very short indeed.
Maggie did what she could for him, but she was no doctor. She kept him hydrated, fed him when she thought he could keep it down, and did her best to see that he was comfortable. He wasn’t comfortable, but on any other day he would have been, and he thanked her for that.
The sun was setting when the arrived. Mulder’s urgent pounding on the front door would have surely knocked it from its hinges if Maggie hadn’t answered as promptly as she had. Scully, brisk and efficient as ever, was at his side in an instant, pulling back the blanket Maggie had tucked around him and unbuttoning his shirt. She commended her mother on the sufficiency of the bandages, then told Jarod he was a damned fool for not going to a hospital.
“They wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for the hospital,” he said, and could tell she knew it was true. Mulder sat on the coffee table, just watching, waiting his turn.
“Where are the kids Jarod?” she inquired. The bullet was still in his chest and she would have to dig it out, but her maternal instincts had taken precedent and she would have that answer from him first. Tears sprang to his tortured brown eyes.
“I don’t…I don’t know. I saw them shoot Luca and then someone hit me…I didn’t see where they took them.” Mulder shifted.
“There were people clearing out your place when we got there.”
“Cleaners,” he said.
“Sharp looking woman, older man, squirrelly little guy looking like he was about to bolt every time she looked at him…”
“Miss Parker…Sydney…Broots.”
“Did they do this?” Jarod shook his head. Scully had gone to scrub her hands and arms below the elbow, and to retrieve some items she would need to remove the bullet.
“She told us where you were.”
“I asked her to.”
“So she’s someone we can trust?”
“Someone I can trust…in the right circumstances.” All this talking was taking a toll on him. He found himself anxious for Scully to get back and cut him open so he wouldn’t have to answer anymore of Mulder’s pointed questions. “She makes decisions according to the situation.”
“So she’ll hold a gun to your head but does what she has to do to keep you from getting killed.”
“That’s the general idea. It’s more…complicated.” Mulder nodded again, a rare, perfect comprehension on his face. His own relationships were complicated enough. He understood where Jarod was coming from.
“Ok Jarod,” Scully said, her tone coolly professional, “let’s get this slug out of you ok?” He nodded. “Mulder hold him down.”
****
When Jarod regained consciousness hours later he could hear them talking. He tried to stay still, wanting to hear what they were saying, but they must have been paying close attention to him because as soon as his breathing patterns changed they fell silent. He heard them drawing closer to him, the soft sounds of their feet on the carpet like thunder to him.
“Jarod? How are you feeling?” The tone of professional detachment in her voice did not quite hide her underlying concern.
“Is that a rhetorical question Agent Scully?” he quipped. She didn’t laugh. “I feel like I just got shot in the chest.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Mulder’s dry humor somehow made him feel better, but not much. He was still badly hurt and he still didn’t know where the kids were…and Parker was still hunting him, which only managed to make things worse. If she knew what was going on she would dig into this thing so deep there would be no uprooting her, and he didn’t want her to know just yet.
“We’ve got every contact in the city looking for the kids,” Mulder told him. “No word yet.”
“Contacts? The Lone Gunmen.” While Jarod was unfailingly amused by the three he would never trust them with three lives to dear to him.
“Don’t dismiss them so quickly. Besides the three of them the Lone Gunmen has readers in places you wouldn’t think possible. All they have to do is make some calls and we have people from the Defense Department to city garbage men searching.” Scully’s opinion of the LGM had never been overly high either, and her defense of them reassured Jarod.
“The Centre has friends too.”
“People like that don’t have friends, they have associates. Associates can usually be bought for the right price.”
“And what’s the right price? You don’t have anything to give them.”
“No, but we can dig up some things that will be incentive enough. What these people fear the most is exposure, and our guys excel at digging up high priced dirt.” Jarod just nodded. They didn’t understand. The Centre didn’t just have associates everywhere it was everywhere. No one every got out of the Centre. If it was a choice between betraying the Triumvirate and keeping an extramarital affair out of the papers he knew what the decision would be.
“If one of them got out,” Mulder was asking, “or was left for dead like you were, is there anyplace safe they know to go, where they know you’ll look for them?”
“Luke was down, and Arin would never leave him. They didn’t get out.”
“And Ryker?”
Jarod thought. He had spoken to them about her on occasion, and they had been fascinated. They had asked him questions and have him tell them stories into the wee hours of the morning. They wanted to know everything about her, like they wanted to know everything about him when first they met. Yes, he could see how Ryker might trust her with his life, even if they had never before met. If the boy had broken free he could have gone to her, it was definitely possible.
“Miss Parker. If he went anywhere, he would go to Miss Parker.”
