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.
A/N This will be no longer than three chapters and I will post the next one as soon as I can - assuming you want this story to continue.
Angel
by imagine
Part 1: The Night
The light was dim and, despite the low hum of an air conditioner, a layer of smoke floated just below the ceiling. Jarod cleared the musty air from his lungs with a quick cough, as he entered, then scanned the Thursday night crowd of the corner establishment..
Some of the patrons were gathered around the pool table, and a few were near the dart board. The majority, however, were sitting or standing dangerously close to each other at the shadowed booths and tables. Though their personal conduct was unimportant to him, his dark eyes flicked from face to face until he spotted her sitting alone, in a booth at the back of the room. Relief made his muscles relax but the thought of her reaction to him interrupting her grief, made them tense again.
Miss Parker swallowed the last of her drink and slid the empty glass to the side. She made brief eye contact with one of the clean shaven young men playing darts then dropped her head to her hands. Strands of dark hair spilled over her fingers, hiding her eyes from view as her shoulders began to tremble. She called for another drink without ever lifting her head and, though the bartender never looked in her direction, Jarod saw the man reach for a bottle of Scotch and a clean glass.
"The lady has had enough alcohol for one night," he said quietly, placing his hand on the other man's arm. "She'll have coffee. Make it strong and black."
The bartender looked up, curiously sizing up the Pretender for a moment before saying, "She said wanted Scotch."
"I'll pay for them both, just give me the coffee," Jarod insisted, using his darkest voice. "Now."
A small smirk emerged on the bartender's face as he nodded toward the brunette and reached for the coffee pot. "Looks like you're too late, Pal. The lady has found a companion for the night."
Jarod turned as Miss Parker rose from her seat. The young man who, moments before, had been standing at the dartboard, was at her side. Sliding her arm through his, she started across the room, her confidence faltering at the sight of her childhood friend. When he took an expectant step toward her, though, the brunette shifted her gaze to the exit. Even as she passed him, her shoulder lightly brushing against his arm, Miss Parker refused to acknowledge Jarod's presence.
"Tough break. But, Jimmy has been workin' on her for the past hour, so it's only right," the man said, his voice now carrying an amused tone. "That'll be five and a quarter for the Scotch. The coffee's on the house, if you still want it."
Without looking at the man, Jarod threw the money on the bar and followed Miss Parker and her companion out the door.
This was not the way the night was supposed to end, she thought, but it was better than it not ending at all. If she played her cards right, she would wake up in the next morning with only the vaguest idea of the things she'd been told and the things she'd done. And, if she were really lucky, the Scotch-induced numbness that was beginning to overtake her would continue until after the body was in its grave.
Sliding into the driver's seat of her Porsche, she smiled at her young escort when he closed the door for her. When he returned the grin and leaned in for a kiss, though, the woman looked away. Twisting the key, she brought the engine to life and looked up at him.
"Save it," she said, gunning the engine. "We'll have plenty of time for that, and much more, at my house. We have all night."
His grin dropped only slightly as he tilted his head to the side and stared at her. "All night? You've already decided you want me to spend the night?"
"What's the matter? Too much pressure?"
"No," he replied, a little too quickly, "of course not."
"If you're not going to be up for it, tell me now. I'm sure I can find someone else."
Her tone made him back away from the car. While she watched, the man's stance straightened and the arrogant persona he had shown her in the bar returned. "Don't you worry, Angel, I'm up for it. I'll take you places . . ."
"Do not call me that," she hissed. Her eyes flashed with a fury he had not been expecting. "I am not your Angel. Understand?"
Tentatively, the man nodded, his dark eyes suddenly unsure. "Sure. Anything you say."
"Good." Softening her tone and expression at once, she added, "I will see you in a few minutes."
The car was barely out of the parking space when Jarod appeared outside the bar. His eyes darted in both directions before spotting her car coming toward him. Without hesitation, the Pretender stepped into the street, waving his arms. Instantly, she moved her foot from the gas pedal but, before she could touch the brake, his body slapped the side of the car. Jarod stumbled then came to a breathless and abrupt halt in the middle of the black pavement.
"Parker, stop!"
Bent over, cradling his left arm against his chest, his head was high and his dark eyes seemed to shine an eerie red in the glare of the streetlight. Though she slowed, at first, she did not pull over. When he called to her again, and started toward her, Miss Parker accelerated.
It wasn't until the street curved, and his image was no longer visible in the rear view mirror, that she turned her eyes to the road.
Jarod watched the Porsche disappear, followed closely by Jimmy's Mustang convertible. The whine of the engines were still echoing when he spun on his heel and sprinted to where his Jeep was parked.
His brain told him he was taking unnecessary risks. He needed to leave town before Lyle or Raines discovered his presence. He could call her in a few days to offer his condolences. She had Sydney, Broots, Debbie and, for what he was worth, Jimmy, to offer her comfort. She didn't need him. She didn't want him.
Jarod stepped on the clutch and shifted into the next gear, the muscles in his jaw tightening to the point his teeth hurt. Her voice was echoing in his head, telling him - screaming at him - that he shouldn't underestimate her. She could take care of herself. She was a Parker. And, yet, as he headed toward the highway, the Pretender knew he would be unable to follow through with what his mind was dictating.
She stepped over the threshold and went directly to the liquor cabinet at the far end of the room. Retrieving the bottle of Scotch from the top shelf, she filled a tumbler and took a long swallow before turning to face her guest.
"I have Scotch, Gin and Vodka," she told him, refilling her glass. "What do you want?"
His eyes scanning the room as he entered, the young man brought his gaze on the brunette. "Gin and tonic. No ice. No lime."
She nodded and turned away to prepare the drink when he moved behind her. His arms slipping around her waist and his mouth softly caressing her neck, the man murmured that she was beautiful.
Suppressing the laugh that threatened to ruin her plans, Miss Parker set both drinks on the cabinet and turned in his arms.
"Don't talk." Then, without another word, she pulled his mouth to hers.
"How is Miss Parker?"
Sydney sighed. "Not well, I am afraid. No one has spoken to her since the viewing of the body."
Jarod pushed the phone closer to his ear and leaned forward. If what he was saying was true, Miss Parker had been incommunicado for more than twenty-four hours.
"She just disappeared?"
"She said she was going home, and did not want to be bothered. She's grieving, Jarod."
Standing, Jarod massaged the back of his neck as he imagined his childhood friend's reaction to the death. "Why didn't mourn this way, the way we expected, years ago, Sydney? Unless she knew he . . .."
"I do not think Miss Parker would approve of me discussing her life . . ."
"With me," the Pretender finished.
"With anyone," the man corrected, sternly. "This is a very difficult and confusing time for her, Jarod."
"I understand, Sydney." Sitting back in the chair, he stared out the window at the nearby lake and, after a moment, added, "I will call you when I know she is safe."
Then, before the older man could comment, Jarod disconnected the call.
He pulled up to the house and stared at the curtained windows considering his next move. Both cars were in the driveway and, except for the lights in the living room, the house was dark.
He did not need to be a Pretender to visualize the activities taking place inside, but the fact that he was, made the visions much more vivid than he liked. There were certain things in life that he did not want to picture. Parker in the throes of passion with another man was at the top of the list.
Just as he banished the images of her in a state of undress, Jarod was taunted with Jimmy's voice, murmuring things to Parker that neither of them would remember in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he scowled and silently chastised himself to take control. If he had any hope of doing what he'd come to do, it was important that he find a way to block the unintentional simulations. Taking a deep breath, Jarod leaned back in the seat of his Jeep and stared at the stars. Using a technique he'd taught himself as a child, he concentrated his efforts on calculating the distance to the brightest point in the sky. Less than a minute later, the images, and Jimmy's voice evaporated.
Sitting forward in the seat, he stared at the house. As much as he wanted to blame Parker's guest for what was happening, Jarod knew that the brunette was not only a willing participant, she had orchestrated the event. He also knew that if he bullied his way inside and put an end to her evening, she would finally carry through on her decade long threat. She would shoot him.
Besides the fact that invading her privacy, in this manner, bothered him immensely, he was troubled by the woman's actions. The Parker who proved herself by trolling bars for one-night stands had been gone for years. Even after Thomas' death, the most emotionally taxing time of Parker's life, she had not reverted to the lifestyle of her insecure youth. The fact that she had returned now, concerned Jarod a great deal.
If he'd had any indication that her decisions were being made with a sound mind, that her actions were not being made due to grief, anger and frustration, he would have left her alone. At least, that's what he told himself.
Absently, he rubbed his sore arm, then reached for his cell phone. With his eyes trained on the house, he punched out the sequence of numbers without hesitation.
She was on top of him, her hands pulling at his shirt while her teeth scraped at his skin. When the phone rang, he raised his head toward the offending device only to have her force him back to the sofa.
"The machine will get it," she muttered breathlessly.
He nodded, his eyes trained on her fingers as they manipulated the buckle of his belt. She pulled at the snap on his pants as the machine picked up, only to record dial tone. Grabbing her by the arms, he moved quickly, pushing her to her back and bringing her legs around his waist.
Unzipping his jeans, he slid them over his hips as the phone began ringing a second time. He felt her body tense beneath him, but, when she told him to ignore it, the man nodded and brought his mouth to hers. The phone stopped before the answering machine was activated but, a second later, as Jimmy slipped his hands under her skirt, the ringing broke his concentration again.
"Oh, for Pete's sake," he growled, untangling his body from hers. Grabbing the phone from its base on the nearby desk, he dropped it onto her chest and rolled off of her. "Answer it already, will you?"
"Tell him to leave."
Parker hesitated at the sound of the dark voice, then slid her legs over the side of the sofa and sat up. "What?"
"You heard me, Parker. Tell him to leave. Now."
"I will do no such thing." She glanced at Jimmy as he rose from his seat at the edge of the sofa and moved toward the bathroom. "He's staying."
"I know you're upset but you can get through all of this without him. This kind of behavior . . ."
Abruptly, she disconnected the call.
"How dare you pass judgement on me," she hissed, when the phone rang back ten seconds later. "If you don't like the way I'm running my life, too damn bad. You don't have the right to try and fix it, Jarod. I'm not one of your precious pretends. My life does not concern you."
"That's where you're wrong," he shot back. "We've known for years that your life and mine are connected. We're connected by Ethan, the scrolls, and, heaven help us, even the Centre. We have always been more than huntress and prey, Parker, whether you want to admit it, or not."
Pulling the blanket from the back of the sofa around her shoulders, she increased her grip on the telephone and turned her eyes on the mantle clock. Twelve twenty. The night was progressing and things were not going as planned.
"None of that gives you the right to tell me what to do. I'm well over the age of consent," she said as she stood and moved to the liquor cabinet. Lifting the drink she'd abandoned a few minutes before, she brought it to her lips while proclaiming, "I will do what - and who - I want, whenever I want, Jarod. There's not a damn thing you can do about it."
"I'll pull him out of your bed myself, if I have to."
"Try it and die."
Taking a deep breath, Jarod released it slowly before finding a calmer tone. "He doesn't belong there, with you, Parker. Not tonight. He doesn't know what you're going through. He doesn't know . . ."
"He doesn't need to know. I didn't bring him here to listen to the story of my life. He's here for one very specific reason and, until he's finished, Jeremy isn't going anywhere."
"Jimmy," he sighed.
"What?"
"His name is Jimmy, not Jeremy."
"Whatever," she snapped. "The point is that the only person who doesn't belong is you. Go save someone else, Jarod, and leave me alone."
After unplugging the phone, she took her guest by the hand and led him to the bedroom. They stopped at the foot of the stairs long enough for him to gently slide her blouse off her body. He gasped at the sight and then slowly began to trace the lace that adorned her. She allowed the touch for only a moment before drawing away. Playfully, but firmly grabbing the collar of his open shirt, she guided him up the rest of the stairs.
They had just stepped onto the landing, when the doorbell rang. Before she had time to pull away from her companion, she heard the front door bang open and Jarod's voice calling her name. Leaving Jimmy where he was, she descended the steps in rapid succession, muttering, "I'll kill him. That son of a . . ."
"I warned you," he growled, pushing past her. Then, looking up at the man still standing at the top of the steps, he pointed toward the door and ordered, "Get out. Now."
"Don't you move," she countered, glaring at her guest. Grabbing Jarod by the arm, she pulled him into the living room. "How dare you! What the hell are you thinking?"
"I should be asking you that question," he snapped, shooting another threatening look at the man on the stairs. When he brought his eyes back on her, he took in her appearance. Despite the warmth he felt beginning to spread, he shook his head in disgust, picked up the blouse that had been left in a pile at the foot of the steps and he threw it at her.
"You're an adult, free to do as you please but you're not thinking straight. Getting drunk so you can allow yourself to let some stranger into your bed is not the most intelligent thing you've ever done, Parker. Any other night, I would have left you alone with the consequences. I don't like to interfere in your life but . . ."
"Right. Just like you weren't interfering when you manipulated me into a relationship with Thomas," she snarled as she slid into the blouse. "Look how well THAT turned out."
The carpenter's name startled him more than she anticipated. His eyes widened and the color seemed to drain from his face. Immediately, Miss Parker regretted her words.
Forcing a softer tone, she rubbed her eyes and ignored the slight trembling of her voice as she asked, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Because I know you better than anyone."
Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Jimmy as the man came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Though he had been prepared to use physical force to evict the stranger from Parker's home, he was grateful that, at least for the moment, Jimmy's behavior was not forcing him to do so. The man had remained amazingly calm, since Jarod's intrusion but, now, Jarod sensed the man had something to say about the drama unfolding before him.
"I think it's time for me to go."
With his shirt still hanging open, he moved across the room. Though his pants were zipped and snapped, the belt fell limp at his sides. "This is not how I expected the night to end but, hell, I know when to cut my losses."
"Jeremy, no, don't . . ."
"The name is Jimmy," he corrected gently. Glancing up at Jarod, who stood protectively behind the woman, he added, "And, I'm afraid I have already over stayed my welcome. Three's a crowd, and all that. I can't say I'm not disappointed, though. We could have had a lot of fun."
"You don't have to leave."
"Of course I do. I'm not good at listening to other people's personal stuff."
Moving to his right, he reached for the Gin and Tonic that was still sitting on the cabinet and downed it in one swallow. Sliding the glass back into place, he crossed to the door, purposely shoving Jarod with his shoulder as he passed the man. Though the Pretender's hands curled into fists, he did nothing to retaliate.
She followed the man to the door, intent on making him change his mind. When they reached the threshold, she took hold of his arm and, without missing a beat, Jimmy turned and softly kissed her on the lips.
"Thanks for the drink," he murmured, with a smile. Then, before she could say a word, he crossed the porch and disappeared into the darkness.
Jarod waited a moment, watching the brunette as she watched Jimmy disappear into the night. Leaning heavily on the door, she slowly swung it closed but did not engage the security chain.
"I know you're hurting more tonight than you have in a long time and I'm sorry," Jarod said, bringing her attention back on him. She turned and stared at him, as if she were having difficulty comprehending his words. "I know that tomorrow, as he's lowered into the ground, you're going to suppress your emotions so you don't appear weak in front of Raines and the others. I can't change that fact, nor can I blame you. All I can do is stop you from ignoring your feelings tonight. You need to grieve."
Her blue eyes searched his face for some sign of a trick. Then, with a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "Why do you care? You told me, over and over, how horrible he was and . . ."
"All I ever wanted was for you to stop blindly accepting everything he told you."
"He was my father, Jarod. That means something."
"Yes, I know it does," he answered.
"Then why did you do it? Why did you take such pleasure in tearing down my image of him? Why did you try so hard to make me see him as a monster?"
The Pretender swallowed hard. His dark eyes did not waver from hers but she saw them soften as he searched for an explanation. As she watched, he was transforming from the arrogant man she'd made a living chasing to the insecure boy she'd known as a child and the sight was far from comforting. Still, despite her uneasiness, she forced herself to say the words that would wound him even more.
"Did you do it because you hated him?" Determined to keep her voice from breaking, she did not raise it above a whisper. "Or, was it because you hated me?"
"No." Shaking his head, he took her hands and, in a moist voice, told her, "I may not have liked the things you've done but I have never hated you, Parker."
Slowly, but deliberately, Miss Parker pulled out of Jarod's gentle grasp and turned her back on him.
"As a boy, the only person who frightened me more than your father was Raines," he admitted, softly. "But, unlike Dr. Billy, your father always seemed to have a gentle quality when you were around. The few times I saw him with you - with his Angel - he seemed less intimidating."
She stiffened at the nickname but did not face him.
"I can't tell you how many times I conjured those images to calm myself after interacting with him. Those sparse images reminded me that he had a good side," he told her. "I saw the other side of him. I wanted you to do the same. I wanted you to see, to understand, the pain he'd caused over the years."
"Well, the man who stole your life and caused you so much pain is gone, Jarod," she said tightly. "Knowing that he's dead and that, by this time tomorrow, will be six feet under must make you a very happy man."
"There is nothing about this situation that makes me happy."
"Oh, spare me!" Pivoting in place, she glared at him. "Why don't you tell me why you're really here, Jarod? The only time you come to my home is when you've uncovered some deep dark secret about my family. So, what bit of 'truth' do you need to bring to light before the funeral? What do you need me to know?"
He tensed, straightening his stance as he stared down at her. She held his gaze, daring him to say something. Her blue eyes were no longer filled with fire, as they had been a few minutes before. Instead, they were hard and, Jarod thought, dead.
"He loved you."
"What?"
"Your father loved you."
He saw the tears begin to melt the harshness in her gaze and he reached out to her. Then, without warning, she slapped him with an open hand. The force of the blow was enough to make him take a step back but Jarod managed to resist the urge to touch the abused spot on his cheek.
"Get out," she ordered.
"Parker, listen to me. I am not . . ."
"Get out," she repeated, pulling open the door. "Get out or, so help me, I will call the Centre and have a team of Sweepers carry you out."
Her words were not harsh, or angry. They were spoken in a calm, controlled voice that made Jarod's insides twist. He took a deep breath, released it quickly and moved from the door into the living room. Becoming more angry and frustrated by the second, she spent only a few seconds trying to gain control of her emotions before slamming the door and following him.
"Jarod, where are you?" she hissed, as she stepped into the empty room. "So help me, if you . . ."
"I'm right here," he replied. Rising from his knees behind her desk, he picked up the phone and brought it to his ear before handing the device to Miss Parker. "You have dial tone, again. Do whatever you feel you need to do. I'll be in the kitchen making you something to eat."
She felt Lyle's eyes on her as she stared at the body but did not have the strength to bring her eyes to his. Nor did she have the inclination. At that moment, all she could think about was the man laid out in the bronze and gold casket.
"My condolences, Miss Parker."
Nodding at the familiar voice, she still did not take her eyes from the casket. Sydney would understand.
"Yeah, um, I'm sorry, too. If there is anything Debbie or I can do to help, let me know."
She looked up, her eyes moving slowly from one man to the next. In her mind, there were a hundred things she wanted to say but the words wouldn't come. She wanted to thank them for coming. She wanted to tell them that it was her fault he was dead. She had known he was alive and failed to protect him, but the words wouldn't come.
Instead, Miss Parker silently turned away from the men and, without looking back, exited the morgue.
He found her in her bedroom, sitting with her knees to her chest on the window seat, staring into the night. She had changed into black cotton yoga pants, a white T-shirt and white cotton ankle socks. Her face was scrubbed, her hair was pulled back from her face and Jarod found himself mesmerized.
"What do you want?"
Startled from his thoughts, he released a quick breath, plastered a silly grin on his face and leaned against the door frame. "I'm getting ready to put the eggs on and I was wondering how many sweepers you invited for breakfast. I wouldn't want any of them to leave hungry."
When she did not respond, Jarod sighed and moved further into the room. He didn't need her to tell him that she had not made the call. If there had been the slightest chance she would have turned him in, he would never have taunted her by giving her the phone.
"I brought you some tea," he said, in a much less antagonistic tone. Sliding the mug onto the windowsill, he hesitated then, without taking his eyes off of her, murmured, "You'll feel better if you eat something. Why don't you come downstairs and I'll . . .?"
"I'm not hungry."
Jarod shook his head and sat on the edge of the King sized bed. "You can't keep everything bottled up inside, Parker. It's not healthy."
She let out a soft,strangled laugh but said nothing.
"When you were a child, you used to visit me when you were upset," he reminded her, "You used to trust me with your thoughts. We used to talk."
Miss Parker tightened the grip she had on her legs and pulled her knees under her chin. She let her eyes shift their focus from the dark street to the reflection of the man behind her.
"That was a long time ago, Jarod."
"It doesn't feel like it," he murmured. "It feels like yesterday."
"No," she growled. Sliding from the window seat, she began to pace the room. "Yesterday, I was in the Centre morgue, viewing my father's body. Yesterday, I listened to Raines try to convince me that Mr. Parker would be missed at the Centre but that he was in a better place. Yesterday, I sat in my car and screamed at the top of my lungs until my throat was raw. I am quite sure that you and I did not talk yesterday, Jarod."
When she stopped her tirade, Miss Parker was staring at him from across the room, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
"I'm sorry."
Her stance faltered for a moment and she shook her head, trying to fight the fatigue that was beginning to overcome her.
"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, rising to his feet. "Losing someone you love is not easy, Parker, especially when you feel you have no one sharing your grief."
His hand slid to her arm but she shirked it away and took a step back. "I don't want your pity, Jarod."
"Do you remember what you told me about your father, when we were children?" he asked, as she moved back to the window seat and lowered herself to the cushions. "You told me, more than once, that he wanted what was best for you."
Unsure of how her voice would sound, if she spoke, Miss Parker nodded her response.
"You were right. I believe your father did want what was best for you," he whispered, taking another step closer.
"Fantastic. I'll sleep better knowing you agree with me," she muttered. Facing him, she leaned forward on the seat and laid her elbows on her knees. "Now, will you leave me alone?"
"Above everything, he wanted you safe," Jarod continued, ignoring her plea. "But, because you were his little girl, his Angel, he had a preconceived notion of the type of woman you had become. He never saw how strong and capable you are, Parker. He thought he needed to lie to you to keep you safe. When your father jumped out of the airplane with the scrolls, I saw the look on his face, Parker. I heard what he told you. "
"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?" she sighed, raising her eyes to him. "My father jumped out of the airplane years ago, Jarod. If you really thought I needed to know all this, why didn't you tell me then?"
"Because, you did all the right things - took time off work, insisted on search and rescue missions, then reluctantly allowed memorial services and allowed a few tears at the ceremony. You had me fooled, Parker. I thought you were really mourning him, but you weren't, were you?"
She looked at him and sat back in the seat. With her arms crossed in front of her, she stared at the man.
"When Kyle died . . ."
"This is not the same thing."
He stared at her a moment then nodded and, in a soft voice, told her, "I thought my brother died in that van explosion. I grieved for him every day and I relived his death more times than I care to admit. I was convinced that I had failed him, that I should have been able to save us both. When he came back into my life, it was like a miracle - the happiest day of my life. My brother was alive and, suddenly, the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. I swore I would keep him safe."
His voice cracked and, as his head bowed, his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She watched him, knowing that the memory was overtaking him and, suddenly concerned, Miss Parker rose to her feet. After Kyle died, she knew Jarod had found refuge in a monastery and, until this moment, had never questioned whether he had come to terms with his brother's death.
"In the end, it was Kyle who saved me, though, wasn't it?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers as he forced a somber smile. "And, as a reward for being such a wonderful big brother, I got to watch him die again - only, this time, he was in my arms and there was no denying the fact it was real."
"Jarod . . ."
He shook his head. "No, you're right, Parker. Our situations are much different, aren't they?"
She nodded.
"They're different because, although you watched your father jump out of an airplane, you've always known he was alive. Haven't you? The voices told you."
The fact that she heard no accusation in his question made her respond with a soft, "Yes."
He took a deep breath and straightened his stance. When she turned away, he reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm, then moved to her side.
"Parker, you have to mourn for him. If you don't, you will never heal."
She looked at him, surprised to hear the tenderness in his voice and, heard herself say, "I don't deserve to heal. You don't understand, Jarod. I killed him."
"No. Your father's death was not the result of something you did - or did not - do, Parker."
Slowly, her hands slid across her body to the opposite shoulder, her chin dropped to her chest and, suddenly, Jarod realized she was hugging herself.
"You are not responsible for his death," he insisted in a calm, low voice. Stepping in front of her, he touched his fingers below the woman's chin and brought her eyes to his. "You were his reason for living."
"Why are you doing this? Why are you - of all people - trying so hard to comfort me?"
"Why shouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"
"We used to be," she nodded, slowly circling him. "But, that friendship died years ago. In case you've forgotten, we've been locked in an extreme game of you-run-I-chase and we're in triple overtime. I've done everything imaginable to bring you back to the Centre."
"If you'd done everything," he grinned, "I would be in a cage on SL-27 right now."
"This isn't a joke," she hissed. "You and I have not been friends for a very long time, Jarod, and you have never tried to hide the fact that you hated my father. So, what's your angle? Why are you here, tonight? And, for once in your life, stop playing mind games and tell me the truth."
"I've already told you my reasons, Parker. Weren't you listening? I'm here because I know what you're feeling and I know, from experience, how devastating a feeling it is."
"So, you're trying to protect me? Is that it?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "I am here to stop you from doing such a good job at protecting yourself."
"What?"
"You need to stop trying to shield yourself from the pain. It doesn't work," he promised. "Eventually the grief catches up with you, Parker. The longer you put it off, the more debilitating it will be when it finally breaks through your barriers."
"So, this is payback for all those years I spent trying to bring you back to the Centre," she sighed, wiping her eyes. Tiredly dropping to the edge of the bed, she raked her fingers through her hair and murmured, "You want to be the one who makes me fall apart."
"No," he whispered. Sitting beside her, Jarod slid his arms around the woman's shoulders and brought her to his chest. "I want to be the one who catches you."
TBC
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