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The wedding was a hastily arranged, no nonsense affair, but hardly a spontaneous one, and neither delinquent nor premature. Bride and groom had been in love for decades, and it had taken simply that long for life to align with desires, catch up with their hearts, meet them exactly where they'd always longed to be.
 
Two small tables whose ivory coverings pooled upon the grass, an assortment of chairs, and family only, were assembled together in Sydney's White Cloud garden at sunset to witness the ceremony, officiated by Gianna, an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church.
 
It was full dark when Nicholas escorted the bride down a flagstone footpath—illuminated by accent lighting, candles, and hanging lanterns—and delivered her to the waiting groom.
 
Vows were spoken and rings placed on fingers, and the kiss celebrated with quiet applause. On cue, a French ballad trickled from concealed speakers.

While those dearest to her filled their saucers, gleefully raised cupcakes to toast the newlyweds, and engaged in small talk, Parker plucked a glass of Vouvray from a tray, and sank into the shadows.
 
Jarod knew immediately that it was a custom Parker had established years earlier to preserve his ignorance supposing he materialized unannounced.

Parker could have easily slipped away unnoticed, and escaped a confrontation with him had he, despite Michele and Sydney's assurances, closed a car door, strolled silently up the footpath.
 
Jarod didn't need confirmation that Parker would have simply transformed into hunter mode had she failed to escape unnoticed, perhaps produced a file bearing the Centre's letterhead for Sydney to sign, anything to sustain the ruse.
 
Jarod poured himself a glass of water, and followed Parker into the darkness.
 
"Can I join you?" Jarod asked.
 
"Of course," Parker answered, adding softly, "And I know what you're thinking."
 
"Oh," Jarod hummed. "What am I thinking?"
 
"That I began doing this because you'd developed quite the nasty habit of springing surprise visits on Sydney, and you aren't wrong," Parker answered bluntly, closing the remaining distance between them.
 
"Let me guess," Jarod said. "You were here on one such visit, weren't you?"
 
"Mm, you play with fire enough times," Parker confirmed nonchalantly, setting the empty glass atop one of Michele's marble sculptures.
 
"Fire," Jarod repeated with a deep frown. "Did you really believe that's what you were doing?"
 
"It's what it felt like," Parker answered with an affirming nod, extending her left hand, and easily finding Jarod's fingers in the dark.
 
"And now?" Jarod asked, pressing his palm against Parker's. "How does this feel? Still dangerous?"
 
With a hum of contentment, Parker instinctively linked her fingers through Jarod's, and shook her head. "Not--- entirely," she said, revealing unease.

"Not entirely," Jarod repeated with some sympathy. "Why not entirely?"

"Jarod," Parker murmured, dropping her gaze briefly to the nearby blanket of tulips. "I never wanted to have this much to lose---ever again. You," she confessed softly, and slid her gaze to the wedding party. "Them. I don't remember when I stopped fighting myself, stopped pushing them away," she added with a snort of contempt, "or when I began holding on-- no matter how afraid I was of losing them."

"You did this to me. You," Parker repeated, canting her body towards Jarod's, and pressing her right hand to his chest, "you've never let me forget who I am, forget that little girl, forget us. You never gave up on me, even when I believed I wanted you to, because, apparently, you're just as stubborn as I am. I want to try holding on--- together," she confided with an expression of determination.

Noting Jarod's cautious expression and the tears standing in his eyes, Parker added hastily, "I know you've been waiting-- for me, and I know you insist that we have the most unpleasant conversations in the history of verbal communication, and I think we should do it," Parker said, staring up into Jarod's bewildered face. "If you still want to."
 
"If," Jarod repeated with a grin of elation, and observed Parker's curt nod. "Yes," he answered with an unrestrained laugh that dislodged his tears.

"Yes," Jarod whispered on Parker's mouth, "I do."

 





Chapter End Notes:

 

This chapter, sort of like Michele and Sydney's wedding, was a hastily arranged (filled-to-bursting with nonsense) affair.


I might eventually return here to do something with it.






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