Summary: The Center attracts all sorts of dangerous people.

Disclaimer: I own neither Highlander nor The Pretender universes.

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Layers of Pretense

By marbleglove

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Jarod watched through the glass wall of his Center cell as Sydney, Miss Parker, and Broots all entered the prison floor along with another man. He couldn't quite place the other man although he looked familiar. He wished he had the DSA discs recording his life to help him remember. Somewhere he had seen that face before.

Sydney was looking back, speaking to the other man, and though Jarod couldn't hear through the wall and wasn't at an angle to lip read, he could tell just by watching Sydney's body language what he was saying.

"He's a pretender, a genius who can become anyone he wants to."

The intensity and the awe in Sydney's voice when he described Jarod and his abilities was part of what made him always come back to the older man. Sydney may deny it all he wanted, but surely he must love him, Jarod thought, at least a little, even if only as a science project. It was almost close to religious awe.

It made Jarod feel nervous and proud at the same time, and was generally contagious. It made Broots even more nervous of the pretender's abilities, and Miss Parker's heart beat a little faster, although she hid it well. Their guest, however, only looked slightly amused.

Looking directly at Jarod through the glass wall, "No," the man said, "he's not."

Even Miss Parker blinked at that response. "Oh, I assure you, he is."

"No, I assure you: he's not." Laughter danced in the man's eyes and it, more than anything warned Jarod to be wary of him. "He's a genius, certainly. And he has a rare ability found in most pretenders, for translating academic or book learning into its practical application smoothly and evenly." The man opened the door to let himself into Jarod's cell, and Jarod finally heard his voice. It was low and raspy and seemed made to say wicked things. "But he's not a pretender."

"What did you mean, I'm not a pretender? That's why they took me from my family."

Surprisingly, the man actually answered. "They took you because you're a genius and because you were capable of becoming a pretender. But they took you when you were young and then they subjected you to ongoing emotional, mental, and physical abuse." He spoke with casual disinterest, without approval, pleasure or condemnation.

"You're talking about my life! I was not just a science experiment."

"Not just a science experiment, no." He shrugged and Jarod wondered if he had any conscience at all. "But the science experiment had an effect: because you weren't yet a pretender and it has stopped you from ever becoming one."

"Doctor," Sydney interrupted, and at the same time gave Jarod an important bit of information. "Jarod has run hundreds of simulations for the Center and has even managed to hide from us for years. I'm not sure what you think a pretender should be, if Jarod isn't one."

While Sydney was, in some ways, just as dismissive of his pain as the other man had been, Jarod couldn't help be bask a bit in Sydney's obvious pride in Jarod's abilities. And the pride, Jarod thought, Jarod hoped, was well deserved because all it had taken was the title "doctor" to remind him who the man was. Doctor Gerald Krayten had been head of a black-book biochemistry laboratory in the eighties. The lab had been doing research on chemical warfare when Krayten had gone in one day, killed everyone else there, stolen the information, and disappeared completely. No further contact was made: no threats, no further deaths, no release of the diseases. No known motivations.

"Jarod's a smart boy," Krayten spoke to Sydney. Jarod wondered if Sydney even knew who this man was. "But none of your records show that he's ever changed personas. I've read all the files you have on him. He's had dozens, maybe hundreds of careers, and as many or more aliases. But always the same first name and always the same basic personality."

It was one of the few simulations that Jarod hadn't been completely successful at. He had figured out the exact chain of events, even backtracking it to a previous killing the evening before which had ended in a beheading. But there had been no connection between the original dead man and Krayten; no reason why Krayten had felt he had to kill the one man and then kill all the others. He had been annoyed at the necessity, but he had killed all those people with calm planning and then disappeared.

"Pretenders, real pretenders, change who they are." For the first time Jarod saw behind the mask of mockery to the real anger and determination underneath. This, Jarod knew, was his chance to understand the man.

He stared straight into the other man's eyes, as brilliant blue, as hot, and as dangerous as a desert sky. He put as much intensity into his voice as possible, demanding an answer to the question, "Why does this matter so much to you?"

"Why does finding you family matter so much to you?"

Jarod didn't flinch. He had caught Krayten's attention and he refused to be sidetracked. "Because they're my family. Why do my pretender abilities matter so much to you?"

"Because I'm searching for my family, too."

"And you think a pretender could help?" Jarod didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He rattled the chains that shackled him to his chair, although he never looked away. "I've not been very successful on my own."

"My only family left is my older brother. And he's a pretender."

Jarod felt his eyes widen in surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sydney look just as startled. Miss Parker even gave a startled "What?" before being shushed by Sydney. They all knew Jarod had already gotten more information than any of them had or could.

"What was your brother like?"

"He was brilliant, and sharp, and would tease with stories and lies. And sometimes he would get tired of being who he was, so he would become someone different. But he would always come back to being my brother."

Jarod heard the obsession and the possessiveness in Krayten's voice and knew before it was stated that the man's brother had run away.

"But one time, I watched him become someone else at our camp, in our very home, he was becoming someone who wasn't my brother."

"So you did something about it." Jarod spoke in a hard voice. He was furious.

Krayten was just as furious. "He was my brother! I made him give me the girl. I made him stay with me!"

"You made him stay in that one persona too long. You turned that persona into his cage. The next time he changed, I think he changed as far away from you as possible. He became someone as different as he could imagine and he never turned back." Jarod could feel his own thoughts shift as his understanding grew to encompass this other pretender. "Always something new, someone different, but never your brother, never ever again."

Krayten bared his teeth and literally growled at him. Jarod became very aware that he was still chained to a chair and wouldn't be able to protect himself if he were attacked. The others looked nervous too, Miss Parker going so far as to carefully pull her weapon although she kept it down by her side.

With visible effort, Krayten regained control of himself. "You know, I think I was wrong. You are a pretender; it's just that you're pretending to be your own past self. Real people change with time and experience. Nobody stays who they were. But you do, don't you, Jarod? That's why the recordings are so important: to keep yourself from changing. You could become other people, but you don't want to."

Jarod was silent. The tables had been turned suddenly and viciously. He had gotten to Krayten and now Krayten was returning the favor.

"You pretend to be your younger self!" Krayten snickered. "The kid who still has some memories of his lost family. The kid with the very simple, very straightforward moral compass. The kid who is only just learning about betrayal. You won't let yourself grow up or change because you don't know even one adult who has not betrayed both you and the child they once were themselves. Sydney lied to you. Miss Parker turned into someone completely different. Your mother didn't help you. …"

The man's face filled Jarod's whole vision. He absently noted the details to try to block out the words. Krayten face showed lines of weathering and hard living that aged him but he was much younger than he appeared. His teeth showed signs of having been malnourished as a child. Skin putty filled in and hid a scar bisecting one eye. And nothing of this could distract from the words.

The words stabbed and sliced like knives. "Shut up!"

Krayten grinned widely, his eyes alight. "What sort of person are you, Jarod, when you're not pretending to be who you once were?"

Jarod was breathing hard but refused to answer. He didn't know the answer, he was scared of the answer, and he refused to admit that. Jarod looked away. He could understand why the brother had run from this man, and vowed that he would refuse to help in tracking him down.

But the questions never came. Instead, Krayten smirked and turned to leave.

"Didn't you want my help, Doctor Krayten?" Jarod drew the name out mockingly. He heard Sydney's gasp, telling him that he hadn't recognized the Center's guest. The doctor himself just grinned.

"Krayten is long dead, that research much improved. But don't worry," he said with a remarkable lack of reassurance, "nothing will happen with it until I have my brother back. You've told me what I wanted to know. He became my opposite. So all I need to do is find that, and I'll find him. And I know just where to start: with the patient, scholarly types, who try to not effect the world around them."

Jarod felt himself pale, but Krayten, didn't even look back, simply walked out the door on his way to track down his brother. Broots skittered out after him while Sydney held the door for Miss Parker. Only Sydney looked back with sympathy but Jarod ignored it. He hadn't meant to help that man, that murder, but he had done so. Another betrayal he had been tricked into on behalf of the Center.

"Dr. Krayten," Jarod called out before the door closed behind Sydney, "tell me, why are you hiding your scar?"

As an attempt to stall, it was a shot in the dark. Jarod still didn't know how this man thought or even what really motivated him, but something like a scar on the face was almost always significant, especially if it was being hidden.

Krayten looked back through the glass wall to respond. From the others' lack of reaction, Jarod knew he only mouthed the words, meant for Jarod alone. "Because there are more pretenders out there than any of you seem to realize. Because successful pretenders don't have identifying marks. And because my brother's not the only pretender in the family, just the only one who doesn't stick to killers."

Jarod spoke aloud in his soundproof cell. "I'll get out of here eventually. If there are other pretenders, I'll find them. I'll find you."

Krayten merely shrugged in response as the elevator doors closed.

They were gone, and he was along again in his cell. He had helped a murderer track down another victim but he had gotten something in return. Something he had needed. If Krayten's brother could change from psychopath to scholar, then maybe there was hope for Jarod, too. Maybe he didn't have to be his youthful self anymore, tied to the Center, to the people who had known him, and to the tapes they had made of him.

He would let himself be who he was, and if he decided he didn't like that person, well, then he would change himself and become someone he did like.

He had the time down here, and he had the patience.

He would get out of this box and this building that trapped him now, and he would get out of the trap he had been in since he had first been taken to the Center.