Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me nor am I making money from this story. My muse just wanted to play with Jarod and Miss Parker for a while.

One Step Back

by imagine

His smile was quick and his laugh, though eerily familiar, was deep and infectious. She watched, not bothering to hide her own quiet grin, as he spoke animatedly with a woman of about his own age. Despite the number of people in the vicinity, some calling greetings to him as they passed, his attention never strayed from his companion. Though he never made physical contact with the woman, he had found the courage to step so close to the redhead that, considering the large gestures he made as he spoke, a stolen touch was inevitable.

This was who Jarod was supposed to have been, she thought. If the Centre had not taken control of his life, the Pretender would have had a million moments like the one she was witnessing.

Crossing to her car, she watched the couple as they slowly edged their way to a nearby bench. The woman laughed and impulsively wrapped her arm around him, resting her hand just above the small of his back. Surprised by the touch, he looked up, graced the woman with a shy smile, then slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Memories, thick with regret, flooded back to her but she could not bring herself to look away from the young couple. Though he seemed to be living a normal, happy life, she felt the need to stand guard and protect what he had for him. Despite his numerous abilities, and the confidence he exuded with just a smile, she knew that, like Jarod, at times, he became overwhelmed by his new life. Without someone to help him through his confusion, it was only a matter of time before he did something that would alert the Centre to his whereabouts. More than anything, she wanted to prevent that from happening.

It wasn't until he shifted on the bench, turning his back to her so he could face his companion, that she slid into the rented sedan. After one more glance in his direction, she sighed and started the engine.

The drive to the motel was more than an hour away and, had she not been preoccupied with the overwhelming urge to return to the campus, she would have noticed the reddish-orange shadow that was spreading across the sky. Instead, the image of his smile played in front of her face until she felt she was being taunted. By the time she began to wonder if she had imagined it, the car was rumbling across the motel's gravel parking lot. Almost immediately, her focus shifted to the man standing in the open doorway of her room.

His arms wrapped tightly in front of him, he leaned against the frame and watched her approach. The short sleeves of his T-shirt were stretched tightly against his thick muscles and, under normal circumstances, she would have taken a moment to admire the sharp cut of his form. Tonight, however, it was the dark, accusing eyes that peered at her from beneath even darker locks that demanded her attention.

"How did you get into my room?"

"It wasn't difficult," he replied. A half smile played on his lips as the man pushed away from the door. "I told the manager you were my wife."

Moving past him, she entered the room. "You really need to see someone about those fantasies, you know. It's not healthy."

"Neither is your job, but I don't see you making any career changes. Where have you been?"

"Out."

He dropped his arms, shot a quick glance in each direction of the parking lot, and then closed the door. As he faced her, she turned away and tossed her jacket onto the bed.

"You went to see him, didn't you?"

"You're the genius. You tell me."

"Parker, I am not in the mood for games. If you saw him, you need to tell me."

"Fine. Yes, I saw him," she groaned. Facing him, she folded her arms across her chest and steeled herself for an argument. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Was he all right?"

The sudden shift from anger to a concern startled her almost as much as the fatigue she heard in his voice. When she nodded his response, he let out a sigh that was so soft, she wasn't sure she'd heard it. A heartbeat later, the man had regained his composure, the muscles in his jaw making the lines of his face appear much more rigid than she knew they were.

"What did he say?"

"I said I saw him. I never said I talked to him."

After a slight hesitation, he asked, "Did he see you?"

"I know how to watch people without being seen," she sighed, letting her arms drop.

"So does he, and you didn't answer my question," the man growled. "Did he see you?"

"What if he did?" she shot back. "Would it be so terrible? In case you have forgotten, he called me. Odds are he was not only expecting me to show up but planned it."

Taking two steps toward her, he shook his head, then took a step back. She watched him, curious about his sudden anxiousness.

"If he planned it, it was because he wanted to talk to you in private. He wanted to tell you something he didn't feel comfortable discussing on the phone. Did he give you any clue as to what was on his mind? Did he sound upset or frightened?"

She shook her head. His voice was so calm, she wondered if the thoughts were coming to him as he spoke or if he they were something he had already deliberated on.

"Well, if he saw you, he might have followed you from the campus."

The thought had not occurred to her and, after a quick glance at the window, she shrugged and looked back at the man. "So?"

Tilting his head to one side, he glared at her. "So, correct me if I'm wrong, but he specifically told you not to tell anyone he contacted you. I can almost guarantee he will not be happy when he finds out you betrayed his trust."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed sharply. "Are you actually complaining?"

"No, of course not," he replied, quickly dropping his eyes and moving to the far side of the room. "I am very grateful that you confided in me but . . ."

"You're so grateful, you're trying to use it against me."

"No, that is not what I was trying to do," he insisted. "I am just trying to illustrate the way he might perceive this situation. If he found out about our alliance, before we were ready for him to know, there is no telling what he might do."

"Are you trying to scare me, or just piss me off?"

"Neither," he sighed. "For some reason, the boy trusts you, Parker. If you want him to continue to do so, you need to start considering his feelings before you act."

As soon as the words were spoken, her face darkened. Pacing the small area in front of him, her eyes held his and bored into him with an intensity he had not seen in a very long time. Suddenly, he straightened his stance.

"Parker . . ."

"You're jealous."

"What? No." He shook his head as he spoke and took a step toward her, quickly coming to a halt when she glared at him. "Parker, you are completely misunderstanding . . ."

"It took me less than two weeks to do something you have been trying to do for months and it is eating away at you, isn't it? You can't deal with the fact that I succeeded where you failed."

Her words were sharper than he expected but his soft response was immediate, "You know me better than that."

Coming to a standstill, she balled her hands into fists at her side and stared at the man. When the urge to tell him that she was beginning to think she didn't know him at all had passed, Miss Parker moved to the window and yanked at the heavy curtains.

In the time she had been in the motel room, the sun had disappeared completely yet the sky seemed more blue than black. Lights from cars on the adjacent highway caused a glare on the window pane that caused his reflection to materialize like a bodyless ghost. She stared at the image for a moment, noting that there was no longer anything harsh or demanding in his gaze. The longer the silence stretched on, the more she began to wonder if he was, once again, playing games. When she could not bear to consider the thought any longer, she released the curtain and faced him.

"I should have come alone," she admitted, stepping around him. "If I had, we would not be having this discussion. I could have talked to him, found out what he wanted, and helped him. You would never have known."

"Don't fool yourself. I would have known and I would have followed you."

"You would have tried."

Sliding his hand around her upper arm, he held in her place and forced the argumentative tone from his voice. "Parker, it is important that we work together on this. It has been three months since we've heard from him and . . ."

"And that's my fault?" she snapped. Her eyes dropped to where his fingers pressed against her flesh then, slowly, rose back to his face.

Without hesitation, he obeyed her wordless command, letting his hand drop as he finished his thought, "If we are not careful about how we proceed, he may disappear before we get a chance to talk to him."

"Oh, please! You and I both know he won't disappear, Jarod."

"And, exactly, how do we know that?" he dared.

Moving toward the bed, she glared at him over the shoulder, "You just said he called me because he had something to tell me. If he disappears, then he misses his chance and can't make whatever point he's itching to make."

"What point is he trying to make?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know?" she snapped, dropping to the edge of the mattress. "I've known you most of my life and I haven't got a clue to what goes on your head. What makes you think I would know any more about him?"

His eyes widened as they met hers and, when a small smile snaked across her face, just before her eyes dropped, Jarod relaxed. He let out a nervous laugh and sat beside her.

"I think you know more about me than you have ever let on, but that's a subject for a different day," he told her. After the woman smiled, nodded slightly and turned away, Jarod continued haltingly, "I need to ask you something and, I don't want you to get angry."

She rubbed her temples and, without looking up, said, "Go ahead and ask, but I'm not making promises."

"Why was it so important for you see him without me?"

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"Explain it to me."

With a heavy sigh, Miss Parker considered his request then murmured, "I had to make sure he was all right."

"He told you he was all right, when he called, didn't he?" Lifting his head, he shifted on the bed so he could look her in the eye, but the woman refused to do the same.

She nodded.

"Didn't you believe him?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Parker, please, I want to understand."

Abruptly dropping her head back, she stared at the ceiling for a long moment then closed her eyes. His breaths seemed to echo in the tiny room, each one more demanding than the one before.

"I made a promise," she finally whispered. "I needed to make sure he was all right."

He heard the crack in her voice and the silence that followed was awkward. When she leaned forward and wiped her face with her hands, Miss Parker's hair toppled forward. With an irritated wave of her hand, she brushed the locks away, but did not raise her head.

Jarod rose his hand, instinctively wanting to slide it across her back and offer the woman comfort. If it hadn't been for the flurry of insecurities that chose that moment to invade his thoughts, he might have completed the gesture. Instead, the man let his hand hover over her shoulder a few seconds, then curled it into a fist and let it fall into his lap.

"You think he is in danger."

Still hunched over, with her elbows on her knees, she lifted her head and looked at him. "Don't you?"

Her head was cocked to one side and her right eyebrow was propped higher than the left. The facial expression was familiar, with the exception of the fear he saw in her eyes. It held him, silently chipping away at his confidence until he could no longer dismiss the chill that ran down his spine. Suddenly not trusting himself to respond, he stood and crossed the room. Grabbing the leather jacket draped across his still packed bag, he faced her and opened the door.

"I'm going to get us something to eat. We'll pick up this discussion when I get back."

"Can't wait," she mumbled, as the door closed behind him.

---

After unpacking the few things she had brought with her, Miss Parker glanced at her watch. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her sitting idly in the room. His ego was big enough as it was, she did not need for him to think she was waiting like a lap dog, for him to return.

Retrieving a change of clothes from the dresser, she stepped into the bathroom. A wicked grin crossed her lips as she imagined him returning to find her in the bath, with steam filling the room. She pulled the curtain over the small window above the tub then twisted the knobs above the faucet, adjusting them until she felt hot water on her hand.

Removing the plug in the drain, she told herself that a shower would garner her better results and stepped away from the tub. Thoughts of torturing the Pretender played in her imagination and Miss Parker's grin became broader. By the time she was done with him, she decided, Jarod was going to wish he had never insisted that he join her on their little road trip.

She was so caught up in her fantasies that when the sound of knocking on the outside door finally penetrated her mind, Miss Parker found that the plug had fallen back into the drain and almost an inch of water had accumulated in the tub.

Quickly turning off the water, she left her belongings where they were and stepped from the bathroom as another knock echoed in the room.. Through the drawn curtains, she made out the silhouette of someone trying to peer through the window. Instinctively, her hand slid around the gun holstered against her spine.

"Miss Parker? Are you in there?"

For a brief moment, the world seemed to come to a halt and her first thought was an annoyed admission that Jarod had been right. He had followed her to the motel. When her visitor called out her name a second time and knocked on the window, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, moving past her into the room. "I told you not to come looking for me."

"You didn't, seriously, expect me to stay away, did you?"

Glancing through the bathroom door, he ignored her question and asked, "Are you alone?"

"Do you see anyone else?"

"Are you expecting anyone?" he countered, his eyes narrowing.

She stiffened and crossed her arms in front of her. "You mean, did I call anyone, don't you? You thought I would call for a team of sweepers, as soon as I found you."

"Actually, I thought you might do something even worse," he shot back, mirroring her stance. "I thought you might call the Major, or Jarod."

Raising an eyebrow, she held his stare. "When did your family become a worse option than the Centre?"

"Who said they were my family?" As soon as the words were spoken, the young man dropped his arms and turned away. She watched him slide on to the bed and, in an instant, his appearance shifted from demanding to dejected.

Biting back the guilt, she turned and slid the security chain on the door then sat beside the young man. "Jay . . ."

"Don't call me that," he spat. "It's not a name. It's an initial, at best. At worst, it's incomplete."

Inhaling slowly, she nodded. "I see. So, what should I call you?"

He shrugged and lowered his head. "Jon."

"Then, Jon it is."

He sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

It took less than a minute of silence before the boy lifted his eyes to hers. He searched her face for a long moment and, though the scrutiny made her self conscious, Miss Parker held his gaze. When he finally decided to speak, his voice was soft.

"I want you to give them a message for me."

"Who?" she asked cautiously.

"Jarod's family."

"Have you lost your mind?"

He smiled ruefully and dropped his eyes. "It's not out of the realm of possibilities."

Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her temples, silently cursing the second headache of the night. When she finally looked up, she asked, "Why can't you talk to them yourself?"

"I just can't," he said simply. Turning his eyes on hers, he asked, "Will you do it?"

"They're worried about you," she told him. "As I understand it, you left in the middle of the night, with no explanation. Is that true?"

Dropping his eyes, the young man rose from the bed and started toward the exit.

"Well, I guess I have my answer." Moving in front of him, she folded her hands into fists and rested them on her hips as she blocked his path to the exit. "Now, why don't you tell me why you left."

"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

His face darkened and his eyes suddenly narrowed. It was a look she had seen on Jarod, a look he held whenever he felt cornered. "I said no."

Unaffected by his throaty refusal, Miss Parker let her arms drop to her side and shrugged. "Fine. Then you can call your family yourself."

"I can't do that," he growled. "I can't call them."

"Well, those are your choices," she replied calmly. "You can either tell me what made you abandon the people who care about you, or you can give them your own message. Which is it going to be?"

He considered her ultimatum for a moment, the features of his face hardening as he glared at the woman. "If I call them, they will ask questions."

"Then don't call them and answer my questions."

She watched him struggle with the choice, amazed that he had not considered she might refuse his request. He had come to her on blind faith. He had honestly believed she would do as he asked, without hesitation. When her gut constricted, she told herself it was her ulcer acting up, but a small voice in her head told her she was lying to herself.

With a disgusted shake of his head, the boy made a move toward the door. Without thinking, Miss Parker matched his movements and shook her head. "Sorry, you aren't leaving here without an explanation to either me, or your family."

"You think you're going to be able to stop me?"

Miss Parker smiled at the dare in his voice. Adopting an equally taunting, but slower, voice she looked him in the eye and replied, "You think I won't?"

Suddenly, unsure, Jon took a step back. When the woman's grin was joined by a wink and a murmur that he'd made the right choice, the young man crossed to the far side of the room.

"I thought you would help," he complained, softly.

"I'm trying," she admitted, "but I need to know what's happening. Tell me why you left."

He shook his head, but kept his back to her. "All I wanted was for you to tell them I was all right. Tell them that I wasn't being forced, that I knew what I was doing."

"Doing about what?"

"I just want them to know that it's my choice," he continued, speaking as if she had not. Then, slowly facing her, he added softly, "I want to do this. I want to go back."

Her brows crinkled as the meaning of his words slowly registered at the back of her mind. "Back? Back where?"

"The Centre."

She stared at him, her head slowly moving from side to side in denial. "Like hell you are."

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Parker, but my mind is made up. I . . ."

His words came to a sudden halt as the door opened, awkwardly banging against the strain of the security chain. He glared at her, then at the door as the intruder made a second noisy attempt to enter the room.

"Parker, come on, open the door," he called. "I've got dinner."

"You said you were alone," Jon accused, pushing past her only to stop when Jarod made a third, more aggressive, attempt at opening the door. Pivoting in place, he glared at the woman. "You lied to me."

"Jay? Jay, is that you? Open the door."

"Go away!" the young man yelled. "You aren't supposed to be here."

She grabbed Jon's arm as he began pacing the length of the room. "Wait. I promise, all we want to do is talk to you."

His eyes darted from the door that Jarod continued to force, to the bathroom, to the point where her hand met his arm, before he finally pushed her away.

"I trusted you once," he hissed, "I am not going to do it again."

Turning on his heel, the young man sprinted for the bathroom with Miss Parker close behind. His attempt to lock her out of the small room was thwarted by the woman's body colliding with the hollow door. Though he faltered when she let out a cry of pain, Jon quickly grabbed the small metal trash can from the corner and heaved it toward the window. A loud crack echoed and the can bounced back into the room, but when he pushed at the pane, it would not budge.

"No," he whispered, desperately pounding at the glass.

"Stop it, Jay. Stop it!"

He felt the strong arms around his waist but refused to obey the repeated command. Struggling against the larger man, Jon continued to beat at the window until the Pretender finally pulled him to the ground.

With his arms pinned at his side, and Jarod's weight holding him against the cold tile, tears of frustration filled the young man's eyes. Struggling fiercely, he looked up into Jarod's face, and, unable to do anything else, spit at the man who had rescued him from the Centre.

TBC

I know many of you are waiting for me to continue/finish my other stories but this story kept swimming around in my head and refused to let me concentrate on "Guilty" or "Retribution". So, what do you think? Should I continue with this?