For Cassy, because she deserves it.

Whispers

They talk in small groups in the cafeteria, or in ones or twos by the unsafe water coolers. Larger groups meeting in her mother's elevator; urban legend saying of how she never travels in it.

Parker's head is always held high as she passes them, ignoring the stares that speak volumes. She knows what they say, how the whispers increase tenfold when she forgets to reapply her makeup. They watch her daily in a way that not even being the chairman's daughter caused before.

They watch her in morbid interest in a very vulture like fashion.

Listlessly she twirls her gun in her spare time. Something she has far too much of, it leads her to thinking and thinking leads to if only's.

She's taken to smoking again and Sydney glares often - as though the cigarette is a personal insult. Parker doesn't care; they say that every cigarette is 15 less minutes to live. That's all that matters now.

'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust' Parker scribbles over and over again as they walk past her door. They move in twos now, information is fleeting and Miss Parker hasn't reacted as they had expected.

That is she hasn't killed anyone.

So much pain; never in her life did she think she could hurt so much. She had been so sure that Tommy's death and her mothers were the worst she could possibly endure.

Jarod's death has been worse, a thousand times worse. He had been the one person in her life who'd understood - maybe not all - but some. Enough. Tommy had been innocent - a way to forget the pain and she had loved him for it. Her mother had soothed that pain and promised that she would have a bright and happy future. Jarod … Jarod never let her forget and by doing so he helped to soothe.

Ashes - his body

Dust - her life

No one is left to soothe her pains now and promise her a happy ending. Sydney's lost in his own grief and Broots never really knew Jarod.

There is no one left to promise her tomorrow will be better.

It has been weeks now yet the whispers have not subsided - she doubts they ever will. As they pass by her new office (in singles now, but with strained ears and piercing eyes to see if she really can cry), Parker doesn't think of him and the stories they tell. Jarod's fate has become legend:

A young woman had been trying to escape The Centre, through some leak of information Jarod found and rescued her. Coupled with her considerable talents they made it to the periphery of the Centre - only to find over two dozen sweepers (unless the teller is particularly ambitious and it becomes three or four). Lyle gave the order to fire and Parker rushed to stop him. Bullets
flew, Jarod died. The girl, shielded by his body, made it to his parked car and escaped.

Parker ran forward to his dying form and listened as he gasped out "I love you," smoothing back his long hair she pressed her lips against his bloodied ones. Then drawing her gun she shot the sweeper who had killed him (how she told in the dozens there was not important) and cried over his body until Lyle dragged her from it.

Parker likes their version better, and after too many glasses of scotch tries to believe it. A heroic death is what Jarod deserved - putting aside the fact he didn't deserve to die in the first place.

An ambitious young journalist and an article that went out a day early, that was all it took to bring nearly six years of chasing to and end. Jarod was just a few minutes late with his latest pretend and still in the warehouse.

Permanently late now...

The sweepers broke down the door, Lyle and Parker trailing after them with guns drawn, Sydney taking the rear.

Jarod ran for the window, he was on the landing without a parked car underneath this time, but in his panic Parker guessed his fight or flight instinct took over.

"Stop!" Lyle yelled.

Lyle let off a shot that failed to hit anything, immediately the sweepers followed suit. A single piece of lead propelled through the air, faster than the speed of sound. Jarod was falling when the bang came.

He fell, and fell and fell…

Through the window, onto the unyielding concrete below. The bullet pierced his heart; his heart that had been big enough to encompass all he met. Stopped by a single bullet.

Life shouldn't work in such ways, Sydney said.

Parker didn't shoot the sweeper who fired. Lyle promoted him - he works her old job.

Jarod didn't want her to run away with him - he called the night before and she simply told him to fuck off. There was no child between them and in nine months time there wouldn't be one either.

Her father went back on his word, which was so expected it was almost was his word. She didn't yell, scream, rant or rave. She asked for an office with a window. Really what else could you do?

Parker knows that this will be her office until the day she retires or dies. The whispers have spread to high for any kind of career. The Tower will hear, and to them it doesn't matter that she never broke down in front of his grave. They believe she could have and that is all that matters.

And that whisper hurts the most, even if she doesn't know why.