Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: Jarod, Miss Parker, et al. are the property of Steven Long Mitchell, Craig W. Van Sickle, MTM Entertainment, NBC, the actors, writers, and all other persons known or unknown with a legal claim upon the characters. All characters unique to this story are the property of R. Franke. This is a story of fan fiction, written for the purpose of personal satisfaction and the enjoyment of others, and monetary or other compensation is neither expected nor desired.
Copyright 2001 by R. Franke
Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Blame Cate for this. I started this back in 1999, then stopped when what I had planned for my story diverged too greatly from where the show went. Then Cate wrote to me and made me feel guilty for abandoning it. So I decided to continue on as I had originally planned and call it an alternate universe, breaking off from the main Pretender universe sometime shortly after Wild Child. Therefore, no Parker/Brigitte bonding moment over the birth of the baby, no Ethan, no Alex, and no voices in Parker's head telling her what to do. Instead, I will be offering up my own theories on the origin of the Centre, and of the Tower, and the truth behind the deaths of Thomas Gates, Catherine Parker, and JFK.
LAVENDER
Part VIII
by R. Franke
Jarod snapped his fingers. "Knives."
"What?"
"Your knives, Parker," Jarod elaborated. "I know you. You didn't bring your gun, so it has to be your knives."
"They're at the hotel," Parker acknowledged. She raised an eyebrow at the doubting expression on his face. She gestured forward, towards the Capitol Dome just becoming visible in the limousine's windshield. "Do you really think I'd try to bring a weapon in there?"
"Sometimes," Jarod replied, a touch of sadness in his voice, "I have no idea what you would do."
Parker started to speak, then turned away, studying the people on the sidewalk instead.
"You done with the sports yet?" Sam asked, quietly breaking the silence.
Broots started. "Uh, yeah, yeah. Hand me the front page, will you?" The two men traded sections of the paper, sharing a worried glance as the other two passengers stared out of opposite windows.
Jarod broke the silence as the limousine pulled up in front of the Capitol. "Are you ready for this, Parker?"
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Parker replied as the driver opened the door.
"How tough do you think they'll be on us?" Broots asked.
Parker smiled grimly as she stepped out and eyed the rapidly assembling crowd of reporters. "That depends on how many of them have figured out the Centre will not be contributing to their re-election campaigns this year."
**
"Something's going on," Emily mused. "Something I just can't put my finger on."
"What-" Margaret stopped when one of the other spectators glared at her. "What do you mean, something's going on?" she continued, lowering her voice.
"I don't know," Emily replied. "But watch them, especially Parker and Jarod. They both seem, I don't know, sad. Or resigned. But only when the other one isn't looking." The two women turned their attention back to the hearing.
"You've told us a fascinating tale, Miss Parker," the Chairman's voice drifted up. "But by your own admission, you've worked for this here Centre your entire adult life. Now, I can understand you not knowing about some of the nastier goings-on when you first joined, but you were far too high up for far too long not to have suspected something."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you how seductive that level of power and knowledge can be, Senator," Parker replied with saccharine sweetness. "And how tempting it can be to close your eyes to the true costs of that power."
"I need a break," Margaret whispered to her daughter. "Be right back." She stood and left the Visitor's Gallery. Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the marble corridor to a small, unmarked door. "I don't like lying to my daughter," she growled as she went inside.
"You're the one who didn't want her involved."
"I know." Margaret's shoulders slumped. "Are you sure this will work?"
"Trust me," Cox smiled. "Have I lied to you yet?"
"I don't know, have you?"
***
"Missing your lollies, Bridey?" the guard asked quietly. Brigitte stiffened but did not look up from her sewing machine. "Lyle says hello," the guard added before continuing on her rounds of the prison workshop.
"Take me with you." Brigitte looked up to meet the eyes of the woman sitting at the machine across from her. "Take me with you," the woman demanded. "Please," she added, her eyes falling back down to her work.
Brigitte narrowed her eyes. "I don't do anything without a name."
"Oh," the woman smiled brightly. "I'm Alice."
***
"Jeez, I thought the T-board was scary but that," Broots shook his head. "I mean, I know the T-Board could of had me killed and all that, but still, you know?"
"Thank you for that scintillating analysis, Broots," Parker snapped. "What happened is we just had our asses thoroughly chewed. And you know what makes it even better? It all happened on national television."
"Take it easy, Parker," Jarod said evenly. "We knew this was one of the more likely possibilities."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Parker growled.
"Then you shouldn't have baited them like that," Jarod snapped.
"They represent the metaphysical weight of our entire society," Sam commented. "I read it somewhere," he added defensively as the other three stopped and stared at him.
Parker muttered something under her breath and stalked off, heels clicking on the marble floor.
Jarod eyed her retreating figure. "Parker and I have an appointment tomorrow morning. The two of you will be on your own until we can get here."
"But what if the Committee has more questions?" Broots asked.
Jarod smiled and patted the smaller man on the shoulder. "You'll do fine, Broots. Just don't act nervous or they'll think you're trying to hide something," he threw back over his shoulder as he walked away.
"Well, that's a lot of help," Broots muttered.
Sam snorted. "Guess we start earning that big pay raise tomorrow. You wanna go grab a beer or something?"
Broots shrugged. "If you think we can find anything around here other than that five dollar a bottle imported crap."
"Let's see if we can get past those reporters outside first," Sam replied.
***
"Deppie!"
Debbie Broots barely got through the door before a pair of squirming toddlers filled her arms. "Hey, Katie-cat," she greeted the girl, rubbing noses with her. Katie giggled and covered her face with her hands. Debbie looked over at the boy. "Rowf," she growled.
The little boy grinned. "Awf, awf," he barked in reply.
"How was your game?"
Debbie grinned. "Great, Miss Mary. We won 5-3. I scored once and had two assists."
The older woman beamed. "That's wonderful, dear. Supper is almost ready, why don't you wash up?"
"I'm just going to call Daddy first, let him know what happened." She kissed the children and shoved them gently away. "You two go with Miss Mary now, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes."
Ben nodded vigorously. "'Kay."
"Jussa fu mint," Katie added.
***
"You'll need to speak with your regular physician back in, where was it again? Delaware? Set up a schedule of regular-"
Parker winced slightly as she pulled her jacket on. "My regular physician is no longer available, Doctor," she interrupted. "That's why I came to you."
"That is unfortunate," the doctor replied. "Considering what you've told me of your previous medical history, I'd advise seeking someone out as soon as possible."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The doctor cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. In any event, may I offer my con-"
"No, Doctor," Parker interrupted coldly as she turned to leave. "You may not."
***
"What's the story with blondie over there?" Brigitte asked, motioning with her head to where Alice sat at a table by herself.
Her tablemate looked up from her tray. "Shit, girl, you ain't heard about her? Bitch stabbed some guy. Say he try and rape her."
"Heard she cut the bastard's dick off," another prisoner chimed in.
"Jury didn't believe her?" Brigitte asked.
"Not after the cops done pulled another seventeen dicks outta her freezer."
Brigitte's eyes widened. "That's her? What the hell is she doing here?"
"The good people of the State of Delaware say she ain't crazy. The good people of the State of Delaware is fucking nuts."
"Great," Brigitte muttered. "Just what I needed. Another damn psychopath to deal with."
***
"Bye, sweetheart. Love you too."
Sam waited until Broots had put away his cell phone before picking up their conversation. "All I'm saying is, sometimes you've got to wonder how tightly wrapped the guy is. I mean, come on, if I escaped a place like the Centre the last thing I'd be doing is leaving clues behind all the time." He raised his beer to his lips and swallowed.
Broots studied his own bottle. "I don't think there's anything we can do. I mean, their relationship, well," his voice trailed off.
Sam took another swallow. "Yeah."
***
"Mr. President," Jarod smiled. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."
"The two of you are kicking over a lot of rocks," the President replied, raising his eyes from Parker's legs. "Rocks that might have been better left undisturbed."
Parker raised her eyebrow. "Oh don't worry, Mr. President, we've been very selective about which rocks we've decided to kick over. Much to my colleague's displeasure."
Jarod's smile hardened. "Personally, I rather enjoy seeing despicable little men scurrying for cover." Parker laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But that's not why we're here," he continued smoothly.
"I'm a busy man-" the President began impatiently.
"HAVOC," Parker interrupted. "We know what it is, Mr. President. What it really is."
"What do you want?"
"Just for you to consider your next moves very carefully, sir," Jarod replied. "And who you want to be associated with if certain things ever come to light."
"The HAVOC Project was in place before I ever took office."
"We know," Jarod answered. "And we know the kind of damage that could be done to the prestige of this office if the public even suspected. We'd rather not see that happen."
"So the two of you are here out of the goodness of your hearts? As patriotic, upstanding citizens?"
"Hardly, Mr. President," Parker replied. "We're here because the HAVOC Project is bad for business."
"Is that what this is about? Money?"
"Isn't everything, Mr. President?" Parker purred.
***
"Odious little creep," Parker muttered.
"Hey, you voted for him." Jarod replied teasingly.
Parker rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me." She leaned back in her seat. "How long do you think before that little scene gets back to the Triumvirate?"
Jarod flipped on the blinker and negotiated the intersection. "Oh, at least thirty-seven seconds by my calculations. Possibly even as long as forty."
"That long?" Parker asked, widening her eyes in exaggerated surprise. "Oh my." She and Jarod shared a grin, then Parker's face fell. "Pull over," she demanded in a strangled voice.
"What-"
Parker clawed at the door handle. "Pull over, damn it." Jarod pulled into a Metrobus stop as she flung the door open and vomited into the gutter.
"Here."
Parker took the handkerchief Jarod handed her and wiped her mouth. "You'd better get moving," she said as the Metrobus driver behind them angrily beeped his horn.
Jarod pulled out of the Metrobus stop and back into the flow of traffic. "How long have you been having symptoms?"
"I've been nauseous for a while now," Parker admitted. "But this was the first time," she waved a hand back in the direction of the Metrobus stop. "I went to a doctor last night," she blurted. "Last evening, I guess I should say."
"I know," Jarod said quietly. "I followed you."
"So you know then," Parker replied.
"It's not exactly a surprise," Jarod answered. "Given your history."
"My history?" Parker repeated.
"Yes. I mean, after all-"
"Jarod," Parker growled. "Shut up and drive."
"Parker-"
"Let's just get there before Broots starts blubbering," Parker interrupted, turning away from Jarod to stare out the window. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
***
"I don't believe it," Lyle said.
"What's so difficult to believe?" Crassus asked. "They wouldn't be the first people whose ethics turned out to be a little more elastic than everyone thought."
"I know them. If Parker's ethics were that elastic we'd never be in this situation. And as for the lab rat," Lyle shook his head. "They're up to something."
Crassus raised his eyebrows. "Does it matter?"
***
Brigitte waved at the rapidly fleeing figure. "Ta, luv. Hope you find Mr. Nineteen soon. After all, the more of them that are out looking for you, the less looking for me," she muttered. "How far was it again, Em?" she asked the woman beside her.
"Little over a quarter mile," the guard replied.
"Well then, let's go." Brigitte turned to leave, only to be thrown down by a blow to the small of her back. She reached back with her hand and felt the sticky wetness on her back. She looked up to see Em standing over her, shotgun cradled loosely in one arm as the echoes from the shot died away.
Em squatted down, meeting Brigitte's uncomprehending gaze. "I despise women like you. You've got brains, you've got drive, you've got moxie. And what do you do with it? How do you get to the top?" Em snorted. "You fall on your back, spreading your legs for whatever scraps the big boys deign to give you." She leaned in closer, until she and Brigitte were nose to nose. "I worked my ass off to get where I am today, to get them to take me seriously, and cunts like you just made it that much harder."
Brigitte spat. "Fuck you."
Em smiled as she stood and wiped her face. "That's your department. Luv." She looked back over her shoulder towards the prison. "They might get here in time, or they might not." Her smile grew as she watched Brigitte claw at the ground. "But even if they do, well, you'd just better hope your next sugar daddy has a thing for wheelchairs."
Brigitte slumped as she heard Em walk off, her breath coming in ragged gasps. By the time the dogs found her, her body had already started to cool.
End Part VIII
Comments? Opinions?
Copyright 2001 by R. Franke
Permission is given to archive this story, provided it is archived without alteration, including this disclaimer and copyright notice, and the author is contacted at
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Blame Cate for this. I started this back in 1999, then stopped when what I had planned for my story diverged too greatly from where the show went. Then Cate wrote to me and made me feel guilty for abandoning it. So I decided to continue on as I had originally planned and call it an alternate universe, breaking off from the main Pretender universe sometime shortly after Wild Child. Therefore, no Parker/Brigitte bonding moment over the birth of the baby, no Ethan, no Alex, and no voices in Parker's head telling her what to do. Instead, I will be offering up my own theories on the origin of the Centre, and of the Tower, and the truth behind the deaths of Thomas Gates, Catherine Parker, and JFK.
Part VIII
by R. Franke
Jarod snapped his fingers. "Knives."
"What?"
"Your knives, Parker," Jarod elaborated. "I know you. You didn't bring your gun, so it has to be your knives."
"They're at the hotel," Parker acknowledged. She raised an eyebrow at the doubting expression on his face. She gestured forward, towards the Capitol Dome just becoming visible in the limousine's windshield. "Do you really think I'd try to bring a weapon in there?"
"Sometimes," Jarod replied, a touch of sadness in his voice, "I have no idea what you would do."
Parker started to speak, then turned away, studying the people on the sidewalk instead.
"You done with the sports yet?" Sam asked, quietly breaking the silence.
Broots started. "Uh, yeah, yeah. Hand me the front page, will you?" The two men traded sections of the paper, sharing a worried glance as the other two passengers stared out of opposite windows.
Jarod broke the silence as the limousine pulled up in front of the Capitol. "Are you ready for this, Parker?"
"I don't have much choice, do I?" Parker replied as the driver opened the door.
"How tough do you think they'll be on us?" Broots asked.
Parker smiled grimly as she stepped out and eyed the rapidly assembling crowd of reporters. "That depends on how many of them have figured out the Centre will not be contributing to their re-election campaigns this year."
**
"Something's going on," Emily mused. "Something I just can't put my finger on."
"What-" Margaret stopped when one of the other spectators glared at her. "What do you mean, something's going on?" she continued, lowering her voice.
"I don't know," Emily replied. "But watch them, especially Parker and Jarod. They both seem, I don't know, sad. Or resigned. But only when the other one isn't looking." The two women turned their attention back to the hearing.
"You've told us a fascinating tale, Miss Parker," the Chairman's voice drifted up. "But by your own admission, you've worked for this here Centre your entire adult life. Now, I can understand you not knowing about some of the nastier goings-on when you first joined, but you were far too high up for far too long not to have suspected something."
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you how seductive that level of power and knowledge can be, Senator," Parker replied with saccharine sweetness. "And how tempting it can be to close your eyes to the true costs of that power."
"I need a break," Margaret whispered to her daughter. "Be right back." She stood and left the Visitor's Gallery. Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the marble corridor to a small, unmarked door. "I don't like lying to my daughter," she growled as she went inside.
"You're the one who didn't want her involved."
"I know." Margaret's shoulders slumped. "Are you sure this will work?"
"Trust me," Cox smiled. "Have I lied to you yet?"
"I don't know, have you?"
***
"Missing your lollies, Bridey?" the guard asked quietly. Brigitte stiffened but did not look up from her sewing machine. "Lyle says hello," the guard added before continuing on her rounds of the prison workshop.
"Take me with you." Brigitte looked up to meet the eyes of the woman sitting at the machine across from her. "Take me with you," the woman demanded. "Please," she added, her eyes falling back down to her work.
Brigitte narrowed her eyes. "I don't do anything without a name."
"Oh," the woman smiled brightly. "I'm Alice."
***
"Jeez, I thought the T-board was scary but that," Broots shook his head. "I mean, I know the T-Board could of had me killed and all that, but still, you know?"
"Thank you for that scintillating analysis, Broots," Parker snapped. "What happened is we just had our asses thoroughly chewed. And you know what makes it even better? It all happened on national television."
"Take it easy, Parker," Jarod said evenly. "We knew this was one of the more likely possibilities."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Parker growled.
"Then you shouldn't have baited them like that," Jarod snapped.
"They represent the metaphysical weight of our entire society," Sam commented. "I read it somewhere," he added defensively as the other three stopped and stared at him.
Parker muttered something under her breath and stalked off, heels clicking on the marble floor.
Jarod eyed her retreating figure. "Parker and I have an appointment tomorrow morning. The two of you will be on your own until we can get here."
"But what if the Committee has more questions?" Broots asked.
Jarod smiled and patted the smaller man on the shoulder. "You'll do fine, Broots. Just don't act nervous or they'll think you're trying to hide something," he threw back over his shoulder as he walked away.
"Well, that's a lot of help," Broots muttered.
Sam snorted. "Guess we start earning that big pay raise tomorrow. You wanna go grab a beer or something?"
Broots shrugged. "If you think we can find anything around here other than that five dollar a bottle imported crap."
"Let's see if we can get past those reporters outside first," Sam replied.
***
"Deppie!"
Debbie Broots barely got through the door before a pair of squirming toddlers filled her arms. "Hey, Katie-cat," she greeted the girl, rubbing noses with her. Katie giggled and covered her face with her hands. Debbie looked over at the boy. "Rowf," she growled.
The little boy grinned. "Awf, awf," he barked in reply.
"How was your game?"
Debbie grinned. "Great, Miss Mary. We won 5-3. I scored once and had two assists."
The older woman beamed. "That's wonderful, dear. Supper is almost ready, why don't you wash up?"
"I'm just going to call Daddy first, let him know what happened." She kissed the children and shoved them gently away. "You two go with Miss Mary now, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes."
Ben nodded vigorously. "'Kay."
"Jussa fu mint," Katie added.
***
"You'll need to speak with your regular physician back in, where was it again? Delaware? Set up a schedule of regular-"
Parker winced slightly as she pulled her jacket on. "My regular physician is no longer available, Doctor," she interrupted. "That's why I came to you."
"That is unfortunate," the doctor replied. "Considering what you've told me of your previous medical history, I'd advise seeking someone out as soon as possible."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The doctor cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. In any event, may I offer my con-"
"No, Doctor," Parker interrupted coldly as she turned to leave. "You may not."
***
"What's the story with blondie over there?" Brigitte asked, motioning with her head to where Alice sat at a table by herself.
Her tablemate looked up from her tray. "Shit, girl, you ain't heard about her? Bitch stabbed some guy. Say he try and rape her."
"Heard she cut the bastard's dick off," another prisoner chimed in.
"Jury didn't believe her?" Brigitte asked.
"Not after the cops done pulled another seventeen dicks outta her freezer."
Brigitte's eyes widened. "That's her? What the hell is she doing here?"
"The good people of the State of Delaware say she ain't crazy. The good people of the State of Delaware is fucking nuts."
"Great," Brigitte muttered. "Just what I needed. Another damn psychopath to deal with."
***
"Bye, sweetheart. Love you too."
Sam waited until Broots had put away his cell phone before picking up their conversation. "All I'm saying is, sometimes you've got to wonder how tightly wrapped the guy is. I mean, come on, if I escaped a place like the Centre the last thing I'd be doing is leaving clues behind all the time." He raised his beer to his lips and swallowed.
Broots studied his own bottle. "I don't think there's anything we can do. I mean, their relationship, well," his voice trailed off.
Sam took another swallow. "Yeah."
***
"Mr. President," Jarod smiled. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice."
"The two of you are kicking over a lot of rocks," the President replied, raising his eyes from Parker's legs. "Rocks that might have been better left undisturbed."
Parker raised her eyebrow. "Oh don't worry, Mr. President, we've been very selective about which rocks we've decided to kick over. Much to my colleague's displeasure."
Jarod's smile hardened. "Personally, I rather enjoy seeing despicable little men scurrying for cover." Parker laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But that's not why we're here," he continued smoothly.
"I'm a busy man-" the President began impatiently.
"HAVOC," Parker interrupted. "We know what it is, Mr. President. What it really is."
"What do you want?"
"Just for you to consider your next moves very carefully, sir," Jarod replied. "And who you want to be associated with if certain things ever come to light."
"The HAVOC Project was in place before I ever took office."
"We know," Jarod answered. "And we know the kind of damage that could be done to the prestige of this office if the public even suspected. We'd rather not see that happen."
"So the two of you are here out of the goodness of your hearts? As patriotic, upstanding citizens?"
"Hardly, Mr. President," Parker replied. "We're here because the HAVOC Project is bad for business."
"Is that what this is about? Money?"
"Isn't everything, Mr. President?" Parker purred.
***
"Odious little creep," Parker muttered.
"Hey, you voted for him." Jarod replied teasingly.
Parker rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me." She leaned back in her seat. "How long do you think before that little scene gets back to the Triumvirate?"
Jarod flipped on the blinker and negotiated the intersection. "Oh, at least thirty-seven seconds by my calculations. Possibly even as long as forty."
"That long?" Parker asked, widening her eyes in exaggerated surprise. "Oh my." She and Jarod shared a grin, then Parker's face fell. "Pull over," she demanded in a strangled voice.
"What-"
Parker clawed at the door handle. "Pull over, damn it." Jarod pulled into a Metrobus stop as she flung the door open and vomited into the gutter.
"Here."
Parker took the handkerchief Jarod handed her and wiped her mouth. "You'd better get moving," she said as the Metrobus driver behind them angrily beeped his horn.
Jarod pulled out of the Metrobus stop and back into the flow of traffic. "How long have you been having symptoms?"
"I've been nauseous for a while now," Parker admitted. "But this was the first time," she waved a hand back in the direction of the Metrobus stop. "I went to a doctor last night," she blurted. "Last evening, I guess I should say."
"I know," Jarod said quietly. "I followed you."
"So you know then," Parker replied.
"It's not exactly a surprise," Jarod answered. "Given your history."
"My history?" Parker repeated.
"Yes. I mean, after all-"
"Jarod," Parker growled. "Shut up and drive."
"Parker-"
"Let's just get there before Broots starts blubbering," Parker interrupted, turning away from Jarod to stare out the window. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
***
"I don't believe it," Lyle said.
"What's so difficult to believe?" Crassus asked. "They wouldn't be the first people whose ethics turned out to be a little more elastic than everyone thought."
"I know them. If Parker's ethics were that elastic we'd never be in this situation. And as for the lab rat," Lyle shook his head. "They're up to something."
Crassus raised his eyebrows. "Does it matter?"
***
Brigitte waved at the rapidly fleeing figure. "Ta, luv. Hope you find Mr. Nineteen soon. After all, the more of them that are out looking for you, the less looking for me," she muttered. "How far was it again, Em?" she asked the woman beside her.
"Little over a quarter mile," the guard replied.
"Well then, let's go." Brigitte turned to leave, only to be thrown down by a blow to the small of her back. She reached back with her hand and felt the sticky wetness on her back. She looked up to see Em standing over her, shotgun cradled loosely in one arm as the echoes from the shot died away.
Em squatted down, meeting Brigitte's uncomprehending gaze. "I despise women like you. You've got brains, you've got drive, you've got moxie. And what do you do with it? How do you get to the top?" Em snorted. "You fall on your back, spreading your legs for whatever scraps the big boys deign to give you." She leaned in closer, until she and Brigitte were nose to nose. "I worked my ass off to get where I am today, to get them to take me seriously, and cunts like you just made it that much harder."
Brigitte spat. "Fuck you."
Em smiled as she stood and wiped her face. "That's your department. Luv." She looked back over her shoulder towards the prison. "They might get here in time, or they might not." Her smile grew as she watched Brigitte claw at the ground. "But even if they do, well, you'd just better hope your next sugar daddy has a thing for wheelchairs."
Brigitte slumped as she heard Em walk off, her breath coming in ragged gasps. By the time the dogs found her, her body had already started to cool.
End Part VIII
Comments? Opinions?
