TITLE: Time to Cry

AUTHOR: Jack, The Wayward Explorer

SUMMARY: Miss Parker contemplates the power of a bullet. In response to the "Bullet Challenge" posted by "Kaat 24" at the Yahoo Pretender Challenges group [Tue, 5th Oct. 2002].

DISCLAIMER: The Pretender - the show, the characters — are the property of Steven Long Mitchell, Craig Van Sickle, MGM and TNT. No monetary gain is made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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I roll the bullet between my fingers. The cool, smooth shaft slides easily, and I nearly drop it onto the polished floorboards below.

I know what bullets can do. Heaven knows I've felt enough of them myself. I'm more reluctant to use a gun than ever, especially after what happened the time Raines tried to have my father killed. It's the utter paradox that rules my life. My gun makes me feel safe, yet most of my life has been affected by what came out of the butt of one. The death of my mother is still a raw wound, even more so since her voice has started talking to me. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, hearing her voice echo in my head. I'm never quite sure if what I'm hearing is the inner sense, or my own mind playing absurd tricks on me.

I think about Tommy so often, and it's a rare time when I manage to forget that he was killed with my gun. Right after his death I wondered endlessly if I had no gun in the house, would he be dead today? Or would he still be here, flashing that grin that could make my knees weak? Would we still be together? Could I have made a commitment to such a wonderful man, who gave me everything of himself, even as I tried to hang onto my own secrets? I have no answers, except to the one that really mattered at the time. Bridgette pulled the trigger, but whether it was on the orders of my father, I'll never know.

The searing pain of a bullet entering your body must be like no other. There is nothing but the heat. Then, the blood. Finally, there is the realisation that you may only look upon this earth for mere minutes more. And as the minutes drag into hours, into days, and into weeks, you begin to realise that you're not dying any more — rather, you're starting to live again.

I push the casing back into the magazine, and snap it into position. The safety catch is flipped on and I place it back in my holster, not bothering to fasten the catch.

Then I look over at Jarod. He has been standing there for at least an hour now, watching me contemplate the tiny tool that can kill and maim so easily, so efficiently. Something in my eyes must signal my inner conflict. He abandons his position of observer, and comes to sit next to me. Moments later, I feel his gentle, hesitant arm around my shoulders. I lean into the curve of his arm and we end up sitting side-by-side, cheek-to-cheek. His hand on my back moves lazily up and down, alternately patting and rubbing. And then I hear the words that start the water works. Whispered ever so quietly into my ear, they reach my heart, my soul, like so few words ever have before.

"Parker," he says, "Don't you think it's time to cry?"

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FIN - © 2002 JWE

A/N: Like it? Loathe it? Love it? Let me know at waywardexplorer@hotmail.com

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Contributer to *Prodigy Net Australia* @ http://destined.to/prodigy - Pretender fanfic with a twist...

-"Make dust or eat dust."

-"According to the odds, your chances of winning the jackpot are 13,983,816 to 1. That's the same odds as... getting struck by lightning in a submarine." (Jarod, tP)

-"D'oh!" (Homer Simpson)

-"You *could* try that eenie-meenie-minee-moe thing, but I gotta tell you... as a probability quotient... it kind of sucks." (Jarod, tP)

-"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." (Christian, Moulin Rouge)

-"Here endeth the lesson." (Jimmy Malone, The Untouchables)

Founder of the Similarities: Max and Jarod thread

-- Jack, "The Wayward Explorer"