This is a oneshot. It is meant to be somewhat vague, it adds to the ambiance.
Just so you know and don't get too confused, this takes place sometime 2009. So, basically it's been about eight years since the second movie and this is a possible for what might be.
I hope you all enjoy.
The sun was beginning to set, setting off a beatific display of reds and golds as the lone man hiked along the side of the highway. He carried a silver briefcase in one hand and large duffel in the other, a worn backpack hung off his stooped shoulders. No one paid him any mind, not even tapping the breaks as they sped pass.
That suited the man just fine. He wouldn't have accepted a ride even if they had stopped. The dimming sunlight seemed to be lost to the man, whose black ensemble made him seem to disappear even as he trudged slowly along.
His face was down, black hair too long and in need of a comb and washing obscured his face from any who might have been interested in getting a closer look. The leather jacket he wore was beginning to show threads along the seams and was no longer as able to keep the wind at bay.
Not that he noticed. He simply continued on his way, heading towards the nearby town, his destination of the moment.
As dusk firmly took hold he was nearly completely lost to visual sight, only occasionally noted when headlights briefly highlighted his form. He didn't notice as a set of lights in the distance swerved suddenly into the other lane.
The muted sound of squealing breaks and crunching metal finally drew his attention and he stopped, looking ahead and dropping the duffel when he went to use that hand to clear the hair out of his eyes. Deep brown eyes took in the sight several hundred feet away that had practically materialized before him.
Cars were stopped now, and people were already leaving their cars in hopes of getting a better view.
His body was moving, hand grabbing the bag and running forward before he could even think what he might do to help. He made it to the crash site within minutes; depositing his gear out of sight in the ditch he quickly began accessing the situation.
Three cars were involved in the pile up. Two still had people in the vehicles but the driver of the truck had managed to stumble clear and now stood dazed in the middle of the wreckage.
Finding himself next to the driver he noted the lack of any fatal wounds and the clear smell of alcohol and only ingrained politeness prevented him from wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"Sir, you need to move aside and sit down until help arrives." His voice was rusty, tarnished from non use but he managed to convince the driver to move over to the side of the road and sit where another driver took over and made sure he stayed put.
"Has anyone called 911?"
"They say they're about 18 minutes out." A teenager called back, light from the multitude of headlights reflecting off his several piercings. Nodding absently in response he managed to get a few of the onlookers to come and help as he approached the second vehicle.
Two people were inside, it looked to be a father and his daughter and a burning sensation that was almost foreign to him now pricked at the back of his eyes. He couldn't risk moving them and could see that nothing needed immediate attention though both had been knocked unconscious. Leaving one of the crowd with them to make sure they didn't move if they woke or suddenly take a turn for the worse he made his way to the last car.
The car had flipped, most likely hit first and had been the smallest vehicle involved. Inside a middle aged woman hung from her seatbelt, blood soaking her yellow blouse and auburn hair. Panic flared in him and his hand shook when he placed it ever so carefully on her neck. The relief was palpable when the heartbeat could be felt beneath his fingers, weak and thready, but there.
"I need help." He shouted, not sure if he expected anyone else to respond. Within seconds though two people appeared at his side and he gave them the necessary instructions in removing the woman without doing any additional damage.
He needed to stop the bleeding, help was still over 10 minutes away and she'd be in shock long before then. Doing his best not to jostle or move any part of her he shouldn't the three of them soon had her out and on the ground.
The next few minutes were a blur and he was glad his body remembered what needed to be done because he wasn't sure he was even thinking anymore. He gave orders and instructions and they were followed without question. At some point the father woke up in the SUV and the kind young woman he'd left with them kept him still, quietly assuring the father that his daughter was fine.
It was when the sirens could just be heard in the distance that the woman he was helping began to stir, her face contorting as pain and consciousness edged into her awareness.
Pain clouded green eyes opened and stared up, her hand moving up automatically until it was stilled by the piercing kid. Her eyes struggled to focus, but he made sure she didn't move her head any more then they already had and she managed to catch and keep his gaze.
Her mouth opened and closed, painted red lips parting soundlessly as she tried to speak. He shushed her then, quiet and sincere and she seemed to calm at this.
"My name is Jarod." He began, as he had so many times before, trying to keep his smile real. "Everything is going to be okay." He finished as EMTs finally arrived, but for the first time, ever perhaps, Jarod wondered if maybe he was lying after all.
Her high heels made a satisfying clicking sound with each step she took, especially since she made sure she landed each foot fall slightly harder then necessary. It was all part of her routine, scaring as many of the underlings the Centre had working for them as possible.
Miss Parker waited until she'd entered the building before swiping irritably at her raven hair, ensuring she had an unobstructed view at any potential victims today. No one interrupted her as she marched to her office in order to pick up any mail and or assignments, as per usual.
She knew that Broots' and Sydney's mail, if they had any, would also be there. She couldn't remember when the orderly's had finally figured it out but they had cut out the middle man and just left everything on her desk. Broots was almost never in his space and Sydney...
She sighed as she thought about his transformation over the last few years and hoped that today might be the day. Pursing her lips she entered her office, unlocked as it was now since there was nothing important in it aside from her two pictures. One with each of her parents and people weren't stupid enough to mess with them. She'd developed an even fiercer reputation since her refusal to return to corporate and she encouraged and exaggerated the rep on a regular basis.
Things went smoother that way. She picked up the small pile, not bothering to look through it yet, she'd do that in the elevator. Her sharp blue eyes lingered on the picture of her father, Mr. Parker, not Raines. She didn't care what any genetic test showed, that oxygen bound freak was not related to her.
Bad enough she was related to her psycho twin.
Resisting the urge to scream she left her office and walked across the cheerfully lit lobby to the elevators. Unsurprisingly she was forced to wait for one and she started going through the mail.
Broots, Broots, her, her, and her, another Broots, my my, wasn't he just popular nowadays, another Broots and one for Sydney. Sydney rarely got anything anymore, not that he cared, but it just didn't sit right with her.
As the doors pinged open and she got in, pushing the appropriate button she didn't miss the fact that none of the mail would have mattered to Sydney, not unless...
She punched the button again in frustration, not caring that it wouldn't bring her to her destination any faster.
Breathing out she waited a beat before exiting the elevator and heading down the stairs towards Sydney's office, and now her and Broots' workspace. She noted that the Igor monstrosity was at the bottom of the stairs, and she bit back a laugh, wondering what Broots had done this time.
It was his way of passing the time, and while she'd never admit it, she was grateful for the gags. Broots was constantly going over the past attempts of catching Jarod and choosing one of the things he had sent them to display for a while. He never failed to amp them up a bit.
She smiled when she remembered what he'd done to Lyle with the lockers Jarod had sent them back when they were still learning about Bobby Bowman. As she left the stairs a gravelly voice broke her out of her reverie.
"Hey there gorgeous, hope your staying awhile." She stopped, turning and staring at the now silent Igor contraption. She looked over at Broots, one eyebrow raised in question. He looked back unashamed, shrugging and smiling slightly, something he never would have done back when they first started working together.
"I'm sorry Miss Parker, I don't know what's gotten into him today, I think I saw Angelo tampering with him earlier." Something else he never would have done, lie so blatantly, but years had allowed him to get used to her barbs and cutting comments and she had reluctantly admitted that she no longer had the control over him she once had.
"At least he has good taste." She said as she continued into the room, ignoring the 'you bet babe' that sounded behind her. Just barely stopping the smile from forming she made sure to slap Broots' mail harder then strictly necessary on his desk, now set to the left of Sydney's office.
Turning to her desk, on the right and dropping off her mail she paused, suddenly hesitant to continue the morning ritual.
"There's been no news." Broots' murmured so low that she almost didn't hear. Holding tight to Sydney's mail she smiled sadly at him and walked softly into Sydney's office space.
"Never is." She whispered back, well aware of the despondent tone in her voice.
She couldn't recall exactly why or when she had made the transition, along with Broots, to working within sight and hearing of Sydney but two desks found their way to either side of Sydney's office and there they stayed. The three of them pretended that it was simply for proficiency's sake and not comfort in knowing that they were near and together that had prompted the arrangement, but they were pretty much fooling only themselves.
"Good morning Syd, you've got mail." She called out as she came to stand in front of him. Her smile was forced and unnecessary.
Sydney sat hunched over, staring at some form in front of him, one hand rested on the wooden surface inches away from the phone. He didn't respond at first and for a moment it seemed that it was going to be one of the really bad days. Just as she was about to head back out he looked up, barely.
"Is it?" He queried, clearly not expecting or desiring an answer. There was no answer she could give to that so she left his mail and went back to her desk making sure to remind him that she was there if he needed anything. Once back at her desk she looked over at Broots and their eyes met. The same dismay she felt at her helplessness was mirrored in his eyes.
Sighing they both got to work. Not that there was all that much to do anymore. Most of what they did was busy work, stuff just meant to occupy time, menial stuff that a few years ago Miss Parker would have pawned off on some nameless worker. Now though she just needed things to do so she wouldn't start focusing on her problems.
"Miss Parker?" Broots spoke up softly, he was more comfortable around her but not completely immune. Looking up she waited, knowing he'd speak up when he was ready.
"Debbie has informed me that she has 'absolutely nothing acceptable' to wear to the fundraising dance her college band is putting on and would 'greatly appreciate' if I could ask if you were available to go shopping with her this weekend."
"Why Broots, I think that is the longest sentence you've ever said in my presence." Broots reddened at that but opened his mouth to continue when Miss Parker held up her hand.
"I would be thrilled to go with her, you know that. Just make sure one of you calls me with the where and when okay?"
"Of of course."
"Oh, and Broots, is Robbie going to be going to this dance?" She laughed when Broots went even redder. As a father the poor man had had to go through the terrible teenage stage where Debbie seemed to come home with a new boyfriend every week and had begged Miss Parker to help him with the talk.
Recently Debbie had seemed to settle and had been going out with Robbie for almost a whole year now. The amusing thing was that Broots was more nervous about this because he didn't think he was ready to give her away.
"Yeah, he's her date for the event. Why?"
"I have to know what type of look she's going for, sophisticated and single, or sultry and attached."
"Miss Parker!"
"Relax Broots; I'll make sure she's appropriately attired." He nodded at that, but only after holding a staring contest for a minute.
"Thanks."
"Anytime." Shuffling papers and the clicking of the keyboard was the only sound then as they lapsed into a comfortable, companionable silence. The relationship had been forming way back when first looking for Jarod, but in recent years it had blossomed into something much more.
Lyle found it more than a little frustrating that half the time they didn't even bother to speak out loud, preferring to rely on gestures and expressions when communicating.
Frustrating Lyle was one of the only pleasant activities to their days and they both took the task seriously. It was a good thing for Lyle, because what they really wanted to do was much, much worse. She still remembered that day, the day when Lyle finally pushed Jarod too far.
"Miss Parker?" Blinking she looked up and over, not surprised to see Broots' concern. She swiped irritably at her eyes, getting rid of the tears blurring her vision.
"Everything's fine Broots, just taking an unwanted trip down memory lane." He nodded, understanding completely since he went down that road a lot himself. He was about to speak when he noticed something on his PDA that caused him to tense.
She gritted her teeth because there was only one thing that could get the guy to react like that.
"Hoooeee, what's that stench?" The deep gravelly voice jolted her out of her musings and she turned to Broots even as Lyle finally came into view. Lyle glared at Igor and walked straight up to the technician, who was hiding his smirk with difficulty.
"Something funny?" Lyle asked, left hand massaging as always his gloved, thumb less hand.
"Ah n no Sir, not a at all." Broots stuttered his response, never quite looking Lyle in the eye.
"Come on Lyle, can't blame Igor for speaking his mind."
"That thing only says what it's programmed to say and so I ask again, Broots, something funny?" Broots began to fiddle with his keyboard, a nervous habit he got when worried as well. However, before she could decide that a bigger intervention was needed she noticed the smile still tugging at his lips.
"No Sir. I think I saw Angelo in here the other day. He he might have done something to Igor because you know I I would never…"
"Save it, do you have anything?" Lyle interrupted impatiently and looking between them for some news. Miss Parker gave her iciest smile and sauntered in his general direction.
"No, we don't and most likely won't. Ever. Again." She emphasized the last words by poking him hard in the shoulder. Lyle winced and opened his mouth with some sort of comeback only to stop. He knew, as everyone did, that he was the reason that Jarod had seemingly vanished into thin air.
No one at the Centre had ever truly believed that staying one step behind Jarod only happened because Jarod allowed it. She knew that she hadn't. Sydney had, even told her all those years ago and she'd just shaken it off, convinced she would find him and be back in corporate by dinner.
Sydney had warned them all then that if they pushed too hard then Jarod would disappear, he was a pretender, The Pretender, and could do anything he set his mind to.
Lyle was staring back at her, waiting it seemed for her next biting comment. Purposefully she reached down and picked up Broots' Sleepy paperweight and, ignoring Lyle completely addressed her colleague.
"Why did Debbie get you Sleepy again?" Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Lyle tense.
Perfect.
"Uh, well, s she says since I fall asleep every time I sit down then…" He trailed off, not sure how far they could push Lyle today since he already was tense enough to snap.
"Parker!" Lyle emphasized the shout by slamming a hand on poor Broots' desk. Broots' jumped but she just looked up, absently replacing the figurine. Unbidden the memory of that day came back and she could see it all so clearly.
Lyle with the gun.
Jarod's scream.
Her disbelief, mirrored by Sydney and Broots.
Lyle unfazed, talking and taunting Jarod to the point of breaking.
Jarod snapping, his howl of fury echoing painfully.
And then…
"Lyle." She began, the venom dripping from her voice, "There is nothing to report, unless…" She paused, sizing her brother up and waited.
"Unless what?" She smiled as a predator would when about to pounce and Lyle proved he was still the coward and backed up a step.
"Unless you don't leave and I have to call to report the accident." He glared at her but she didn't budge and he huffed and turned on his heel and left. Normally she enjoyed tormenting him but today she couldn't shake the memories and as a result it was very hard not to shoot something.
Preferably Lyle.
Once Lyle was well out of sight she sighed and went back to her desk and finished up what she'd been working on. Nicholas had called her the other day and wanted to talk about his father.
Sydney's relationship with his biological son had progressed steadily and she still clearly remembered the wedding. That and the birth of his granddaughter were the last times in recent memory that she could recall where Sydney had been, for however brief a time, happy.
She knew that Sydney didn't want to worry Nicholas and tried to act normally around him but she also knew he wasn't succeeding. She would have to be careful, the last thing she wanted to do was accidentally drag Nic any further into the Centre's business than he already was.
Keeping him and Debbie safe was important to her.
"I am meeting someone for lunch; do you want me to bring anything back for you?"
"A coffee milkshake?" Broots asked with a grin. Parker just shook her head but put it on the list. She was about to leave when the phone in Sydney's office rang and she found herself holding her breath.
They watched as Sydney snatched the phone from the cradle and spoke his name. The tiniest of pauses and he slumped back down, answering in monosyllables whoever was on the other end.
She released her breath and turned away, unable to bear the defeated look in Sydney's eyes any longer.
"Say hello to Nicholas for me." Broots whispered, who was never able to look away from the sight. She smiled at him, not at all surprised that he knew who she was meeting. She tapped his desk once as she headed to the elevator and found herself wishing that the phone would ring just once more.
Only this time…
This time after Sydney said his name he would lean forward with that half smile he only ever got when talking to one person.
He'd smile and relax as he hadn't in years and say the words she wanted so badly to hear.
"Jarod, we've missed you."
Carelessly he dropped the six pack he'd gotten on the way back from the hospital. He'd waited long enough after the accident to figure out where the woman was being taken and then he'd moved away from the crowd, regained his few possessions and hurried to the city.
By the time he'd found a place for his stuff and made his way to the hospital several hours had passed and he was met with suspicion and contempt as he asked for the fate of the woman.
He didn't know her name or her story and never would. He just wanted to know if she was okay. If the doctors thought she was going to pull through. All he got was the runaround and blank stares as he asked about a perfect stranger.
Eventually he found himself in the waiting room wondering how he even got there. A handful of people were there, all waiting for updates on loved ones and he found his throat growing tight. He collapsed into a chair, no longer possessing the energy to stand or corner the next nurse or doctor that came through.
How long he sat there he would never know. He never looked at the clock and he didn't own a watch anymore. He did notice that when he bothered to look back up most of the people waiting had changed. The doors to the rest of the hospital were only a few feet away, the answer he wanted was also there.
Despite his appearance, unshaven and unkempt, he knew he could walk through those doors and get the information in a matter of minutes. All he had to do was pretend to be a doctor, or a cop, or something and he'd know and he could go.
There just wasn't any point.
He couldn't bring himself to say the necessary lies, the half truths that he'd survived on for so long. Stiffly he had stood, watched as a doctor came through and asked for the MaCallum family and then he'd walked away.
It was harder than it should have been.
In all the years since his escape Jarod had never left anything he started incomplete and it went against his nature to just walk away. But unless he wanted to come up with some pretend he had no choice.
The convenience store was on the way back to the abandoned apartment building he was squatting in and he bought the beer on a whim. Now, back in the dirty empty room he wasn't sure what he should be doing.
A while later he found himself gazing at the few pictures he had and sipping on his third beer. His eyes burned and his vision blurred and the pictures fluttered free from his lax grip.
Taking a calming breath and steadying drink he turned all the pictures so that they were face up. Cataloguing them as he did.
Margaret- mom.
Charles- dad.
Kyle- brother.
Ethan- brother, whether full or not.
The boy- clone, could have been brother.
Emily- sister.
His hand lingered over that last one, his sister's smiling face frozen forever on the picture. She had such a beautiful smile.
He lurched away, stumbling as the alcohol messed with his balance. He grabbed his phone from where he'd dropped it and had it open and his finger above the number he needed without thought.
He didn't press down, his thumb just grazing the number. His left hand tightened on the bottle even as his right loosened on the phone. He wanted to push that button. He wanted to let it ring and talk to the man who would answer.
But he couldn't.
Doubt plagued his thoughts, dogged determinedly after him during his dreams. After the way he'd left, would the man on the other end even want to hear from him?
There was a time when it wouldn't have mattered. That he would have called and to hell with what they wanted, only now he didn't have the heart, or even anger for that. He felt empty and lost and confused and just needed to talk to him but couldn't.
Not after what happened.
Slowly he closed the phone, letting it fall to the floor, not caring if it broke since he could easily get a replacement. His eyes settled once more on the pictures.
His family.
His past.
But never to be his future.
An anguished cry broke free and he flung the bottle against the far wall. He watched as it shattered and what liquid had remained dripped down adding to the stains already there. Jarod barely felt as his back thudded against the wall nearest him and he slid bonelessly down.
He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, lowering his head to rest there. He didn't notice the tears that soaked his jeans or how his shoulders shook and trembled.
Jarod longed to pick up the phone and dial, to hear his voice again. Only Jarod was afraid, and over the last few years he'd lost most of the confidence that had been such a part of who he was.
The sun was rising outside the derelict building Jarod was in, heralding a bright new day that Jarod wouldn't see. He curled tighter into himself in the dark room and imagined calling, imagined what he'd hear after only one ring and cried alone.
"Jarod, I've missed you."