Disclaimer: *clears throat and tries to look professional* eh hem. Excuse
me. This story was written without the permission of the legal and rightful
owners of the characters of the Pretender and the author is making no
profits from it. I am also breathing without the permission of the legal
and rightful owners of the air. So terribly sorry about that. Oh, and the
author has no idea if 20mL of phenobarbitone would work or not. In fact,
just forget the author mentioned it.
A/N: I wrote this after undergoing major knee surgery. Hospitals are evil. And, OK I've got a grudge against Jarod's right side. So sue me. No wait . . . Don't.
Jarod stared at the blackness behind his eyelids and thought *a car crash* He wondered vaguely how badly he had been hurt. He couldn't feel anything; he assumed he had been anaesthetised. *No, wait* he thought, *there was an operation . . . I'm . . . I must be just waking up*
Still frame images and single sounds started to come back. Over and over he heard the loud screech of wheels as he tried to brake too late. The ambulance ride was a half-remembered haze of pain. Then he had been on a hospital trolley, semi conscious and being wheeled into surgery.
Jarod thought about the restraints, which had held him onto the trolley, and shuddered. It reminded him too much of . . . the Centre. They would come for him. He had to get away now.
He opened his eyes and desperately tried to sit up. 'Whoa buster, calm down, you're OK now' said a nurse soothingly, pushing him firmly back down. 'No,' he protested weakly, 'I have to go, I have to . . .'
'You're just fine right here. Just relax.' Over her shoulder she called to someone Jarod couldn't see, probably another nurse, 'Tom, could you get me 20mL of phenobarbitone please.' Jarod's eyes widened and he stopped his feeble struggles. 'No need for that, I'll stay still.'
The nurse raised an eyebrow. 'You a doctor? Sorry, we don't have any ID on you'
Jarod smiled, despite how weak he felt. If he was a Jon Doe then the Centre would have no idea that he was here. He was safe for the moment. Sighing, he relaxed and tried to get his still fuzzy mind to clear.
'I'm not a doctor. I just know a bit about things.'
'Things?' queried the nurse, also relaxing as it became evident that her patient wasn't crazy and starting to check the various monitors he was hooked up to.
'You know, this and that. I read a lot' replied Jarod truthfully as his mind started to get into gear. He assessed how long he could spend healing before the Centre found him and just what he should tell the hospital staff about himself.
'How bad are my injuries?' he continued. The nurse paused before answering. *Not a good sign* thought Jarod.
'You'll have to ask the surgeon, I can't really tell you.' Seeing the look that Jarod gave her she smiled. 'It's OK, you'll be able to walk out of here' she reassured him. Then there was a string of essential yet boring questions like whether or not he was pregnant/ allergic to anything/ had a pace maker as she inspected his vitals. Then she finished checking his blood pressure and heart rate then left him to finish waking up.
Anyone else would have been bored, left for an hour in post-op with nothing to do. Jarod didn't know the meaning of the word. Even though he still felt slow from the anaesthetic and numb from the painkillers, his mind whirred. The Centre and the pursuit team were always at the top of his thoughts but beneath that there were a variety of subjects from aeroplanes to ice cream.
When the same nurse that had talked to him when he woke came back to check that he was ready to be moved back to a normal ward he was so engrossed in thought she talked to him twice before he responded. Well used to strange or difficult patients, this didn't faze her.
'I forgot to ask before,' she said amiably as he was wheeled down the corridors of the hospital. 'Do you have any family members that should be contacted?'
'No' replied Jarod simply, thinking how loaded that question was. He was transferred from the trolley to a bed in a ward shared with three other (all sleeping) patients and six empty beds then left alone.
The movement had made Jarod aware of a faint pain beneath the numbness of the drugs. It made him want to know just what the car crash had done to him. Slowly and stiffly he lifted the covers back and thoroughly inspected his hands and arms. 'Bruising but no breaks' he thought. Next he examined his rib cage. There were lumps that definitely didn't feel right. He decided that this could mean anything from bad bruising to broken ribs. He couldn't really see any further without sitting up and it felt beyond him in his current state so he lay back down, pulled the covers back up and thought.
An indeterminable time later an older man whose face seemed to hold permanent traces of annoyance and impatience strode into the ward. The nurse that Jarod had met in post-op followed him, giving him a wink as she declared 'Jon Doe, car crash, woke up about two hours ago.'
'Definitely a surgeon' thought Jarod in amusement, recalling an old pretend as one of the more highly strung personnel of the medical profession. The man approached the bed, adopting a placating bedside manner.
'What's wrong with me?' asked Jarod anxiously.
'Don't worry; you'll be just fine. Some internal injuries, a broken femur and three broken ribs but a couple of weeks and you can leave. It was a pretty serious bingle you had there.'
'Anything ruptured?' asked Jarod casually, masking his horror at the list of injuries.
'No, but we did have to do some surgery to stop those ribs from puncturing your lungs. You were lucky. Intensive care for another three days, maybe four' this last comment was aimed at the nurse. 'Yes doctor' she replied as the man turned and strode out with a hurried and somewhat distracted air.
'Lucky? I'm going to need crutches' moaned Jarod. The nurse just grinned as she checked his blood pressure again. 'Believe me, it could be worse. If those ribs had gone one centimetre further you'd be breathing through a tube right now.'
'I suppose' replied Jarod as she moved on to the other occupants of the ward. Sighing he thought 'two weeks!' No matter if his name was on the system or not, Miss Parker would be there before that.
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A/N: The author is fully aware how impossible it would be to use crutches with broken ribs but just play along, ya? Oh, and try to guess what book it is that Parker is reading. If you have read it, it will be really obvious. I mean, *really* obvious.
One week later . . .
Jarod steeled his resolve and slowly peeled the covers back. Taking a shallow breath to stop his ribs from hurting he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. This awoke a number of aches and stiff muscles. He sat for a moment to deal with the pain. He hadn't taken the last dose painkillers offered to him in order to keep himself sharp for his escape.
He reminded himself firmly that it wasn't really an escape, he was just checking out of a public hospital. Still, they would try and stop him if they caught him. He pulled the drip out of his arm then slid forward on the bed. One foot hit the cold floor, the other was in a foot to hip cast and made a slight clunk.
Jarod sighed, and then regretted it as it sent shooting pains through his chest. He would need to find some crutches.
With an awkward hobbling hop he made his way through the incomplete darkness, over to the big cupboard in the corner of the ward. He picked the lock by bending the needle from the drip. He was rewarded by a cupboard full of various personal items, including his clothes but not the black rucksack he had had with him before the crash, although his wallet was in the pocket of his jeans.
With relief and some difficulty he pulled the familiar clothes on, very glad to be out of the annoying hospital gown. He had to use a scalpel to hack on leg off his pants to get his cast through.
Then he was up and away. A brief search of the ward failed to turn up any crutches so he hobbled slowly out into the corridor and to the lift. He knew that the in-hospital pharmacy would have some, if he could find a way to get them without anyone getting suspicious.
It was a slow and painful process navigating through the hospital at night. It was mostly empty so encountering someone who would take him back to the ward wasn't a problem. The real issue was the trouble he had breathing from the pain in his ribs and the difficulty to move without crutches and with a cast that basically immobilised his entire leg.
After what seemed like hours of alternate rests and hobbling he made it to a door marked 'Pharmacy.'
All was dark inside. The door was locked and Jarod suspected that it would have other security measures as well. There were dangerous and addictive drugs inside. All he wanted was some crutches.
He picked the lock with the drip needle he still carried. All was impenetrable blackness inside. He fumbled at the inside wall for a light switch and was rewarded with a sudden flooding of harsh fluorescent light.
Squinting slightly Jarod looked around and with immense relief saw that not only were the actual drugs kept in a separate room, behind the serving desk, but there were several pairs of crutches leaning in a corner behind the desk.
He grabbed a larger pair but still had to adjust them for his six foot three stature. Pulling out some green he left it on the counter as compensation, then moved carefully back to the door, getting used to the crutches and trying not to aggravate his ribs.
He turned the lights off and left the room. In the large hospital it took him some time to find the way out. Finally he reached the reception area. To his dismay, the person manning the front desk was not reading or dozing but was head up and alert scanning the empty room before him.
Jarod did his best to look like he was meant to be there and swung his way from the hospital entrance to the door.
A 'hey' froze him in his tracks. He turned around and gave a quizzical smile. 'Yes?' he asked innocently.
'You're that man from ward eight. What are you doing? You're not fit yet.' Even as the clerk said this he had pushed a red button behind him, probably to summon some orderlies. Jarod didn't wait around. He turned back to the door and began to crutch as fast as possible, ignoring the blinding agony of his ribs.
He made in through the automatic doors and into the cool dark night. Blinking to get his eyes to adjust he made out a small car park, half- empty. He didn't pause but hopped forward, looking for somewhere to hide, for he couldn't run.
He was weaving among the cars, toward the road before he heard the shouts behind him. Gritting his teeth he dropped to the ground, an awkward move with his crutches and his cast. Breathing rapidly he wormed his way under a car, as heavy footsteps moved closer.
Jarod watched one, then two pairs of shoes walk past, the foot steps coming nearer then going away again as they looked for a man that they rightly assumed could not run very far.
By the time they gave up, Jarod's breathing was back to normal, but his ribs were still burning from the way he had rolled on them. Unable to do much more, he rolled back out from under the expensive silver car.
Lying on the asphalt he stared at the few stars visible through the light pollution in the city and tried to master the pain. He knew he would have to get up eventually but right now it seemed beyond him.
He must have gone into a half-doze lying there because a repetitive sound emerging from the background of general city hubbub bought him back to reality. He listened without registering a 'click click click' that moved closer.
'Strange place to sleep wonder boy' said her voice dryly. Jarod suddenly found he definitely had the energy to get up. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his arms and got his good leg under him to attempt standing. Using both the car behind him and the highly erratic crutches he scrambled into a very unbalanced semblance of a stand.
Trying to get the crutches under control he nearly ended up on his but again. All of this Parker watched with amusement.
Finally, standing, panting, swaying slightly, he stood watching her warily. Her face was illuminated by the warm light radiating from the hospital but the emotions on it were unreadable.
They both stayed like that for a moment, Jarod realising that he didn't have a hope in hell of out-running her the way he was.
'And all this time they told me I was chasing a genius' she stated, quirking an eyebrow. Finally it got through to his struggling mind that there were no sweepers and she wasn't holding her gun.
'Why are you here?' he asked carefully, suspecting a trick because it just seemed too impossible that *she* was *here*
She cocked her head on one side and ran her eyes down his battered body before answering. 'An entire week without once being woken by an annoying, stubborn brainiac? Something had to be wrong. So I've been checking out all the Jon Does in hospitals around the area we last knew you were. Unlike mental wards, hospitals don't put nice convenient pictures along with their Jon Doe files. So I had to come in person.'
'At three am in the morning?'
'It's strange but somehow I always wake up around this time expecting an annoying, stubborn brainiac to phone. So I might as well put it to good use.'
The explanation seemed a little far fetched to Jarod and he still hadn't figured out her motives for being here so he just stood for a moment, unsure what to do.
'What happened?' she asked quietly, and there was something in her voice that Jarod had never heard there before.
'A car crash' he replied, still trying to ignore the pain doing laps around his chest.
'And you having done a pretend as a race car driver.' She made a mocking 'tch, tch' sound. 'I'm driving' she continued more seriously.
'Driving where?'
'Where I'm staying in New York whilst 'following a lead' on you' she said in amusement at the obvious thought that had gone through his head.
'I think I'd be safer in the hospital' he grumbled but followed her to where her car was parked in one of the spaces reserved for doctors.
Getting into the car was almost as difficult as standing up and they had to push the seat right back so he could fit his leg in then put the crutches in the back seat.
When he was finally settled in the car Parker got behind the wheel and sped into the night. Despite his worry about where she was taking him, Jarod found himself slipping off, tired from his exertions and still weak from his injuries.
He tried to fight it but was woken up about half an hour later by the cold night air as the car door opened. He blearily shook himself and began the manoeuvring to get himself out of the car.
The hotel turned out to be a rather tacky affair with disgusting carpet tile and lights that made your eyes hurt but at least in wasn't too big, and therefore not as far to walk for the now struggling pretender.
By the time they were inside Parker's room, he was shaking from the exertion. She looked at him in concern then herded him over to collapse on the couch.
He let his head flop back to rest on the back of the couch and heard her leave the room. 'Probably to call a sweeper team' he thought, but he was unable to do a thing to stop it.
In the short time it took her to come back he had drifted off again. 'For someone who does so much running, you get tired easily' stated a sarcastic voice, and he felt her settle down beside him.
'You try being hit by a car' he murmured, not opening his eyes or moving.
'I've got something for the pain' she nudged him gently. He opened his eyes and met her concern filled ones then looked down at the two white pills resting in one open hand. He shook his head slowly.
'Those could be anything'
'But they're not, they're pannadin forte and if you're going to be difficult then I'll force feed them to you.'
Jarod sighed, but lightly, aware of his aching rib cage. Shooting her a suspicious look he obligingly swallowed the pills.
'Jarod, you're completely at my mercy. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use poison.'
'There are worse things than dying' he replied although he could already feel the numbing drugs spreading through him. 'Come on,' she said, 'before you go to sleep again.'
She helped him to stand up, very carefully, considering his injuries. Handing him his crutches, she assisted him the few steps to the bed and helped him to sit down again.
Jarod felt he should protest when she started helping him take his clothes off but he was just too tired and too sore. Thankfully she stopped at his boxer shorts.
Once he had endured the ordeal of lying down between the clean cool sheets he was asleep almost immediately, despite the discomfort of the cast and the still sharp pain of his ribs.
Parker looked down at the stubborn man affectionately, though traces of concern ran through her. The injuries under his clothes had been horrific. His entire right side was a rainbow of coloured bruises and there were disfiguring lumps on his otherwise perfect torso.
Even though it was late at night, she sat by the bed and watched her quarry sleep. She had not been able to sleep well in a long time and figured she had nothing better to do, but soon, listening to his slow, even breathing lulled her into a light doze.
Jarod awoke feeling stiff and numb, yet strangely comfortable and disinclined to move. He didn't feel very alert and couldn't remember where he was but the sunlight hitting his eyelids assured him that he wasn't in the Centre and that was all he cared about.
Slowly his senses expanded and cleared and he lay and listened to the background noises. A shower running in the next hotel room, the gentle rumble of traffic and one very cheery, very loud bird.
Finally he yawned and opened his eyes, only to find a pair of cold blue eyes staring at him from the end of the bed. Involuntarily he jumped and the movement pulled at his ribs making him yelp and curl into a foetal position.
'Nice to see that preservation instinct there labrat.' She sounded very amused. Jarod scowled into the sheets and tried to breathe shallowly. 'More painkillers?' she asked, sounding distinctly unsympathetic.
'Why are you doing this?' he asked in exasperation, not uncurling.
'Doing what exactly frankenrat?'
'Not turning me in? Helping me? Take your pick.'
'The answer is really quite simple if you put your oversized brain to it.'
'There are multiple plausible explanations' he said stiffly, slowly and carefully taking deeper breaths to test.
'Try this one. Sibling rivalry. You go out there injured you'll get caught by my brother. Alternatively, I take you in and you become Raines and Lyle's project. Either way, I'll go down a just a *few* steps in the pecking order'
'So you'll go as far as helping your prey just to keep power?'
'Got it in one labrat' she said, standing and heading into the bathroom. Jarod snorted and shook his head then gently used his arms to push himself up.
He sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers with his one foot resting flat on the floor and the cast stretched out diagonally. Yawning again he ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to stretch without pulling at his intercostal muscles.
Parker reappeared holding some pills and a glass of water, which she handed to him. 'These are prescription drugs' he said, reading the name on the side of the tablet. She shot him a *look* and he shrugged and swallowed them with a big gulp of water.
Putting the cup down he glanced down at where his clothes lay on the floor then looked at Parker. 'Oh brilliant. You break a few bones and suddenly need someone to do everything for you' she grumbled even as grabbed his shirt and flung it at him. He caught it with his left hand to avoid straining his ribs.
Parker placed his one-legged jeans on the bed next to him as he put his arm through his shirt sleeve. He had to use his left arm to get the shirt on his right side then did the buttons up one handed.
The jeans were easier although they definitely looked strange hacked off at the hip. 'Now what?' Asked Jarod, looking up to find Parker coming out of the bathroom holding a small bag.
'Now we move. You should know the game by now Jarod. Same thing, only there's no one chasing just yet.' She replied crisply and stalked out of the room. He collected his crutches from where they leaned against the wall and followed as best he could, thinking wryly how the order of the chase had turned around.
One week and three equally cheap and nasty, inner suburb hotels later Jarod was feeling much better. He could even dress and wash without excruciating pain if he was careful.
He found it interesting to travel with Parker. She seemed to have exactly the same ideas on when and where to move as he did, bringing to mind the question of how easily she could catch him if she actually tried. He tried to believe that he had actually been genuinely outwitting her all along.
Another thing that had caused some uncertainty had been the tenderness that she had shown towards his injuries. Jarod had expected the ice queen to be much harsher when dealing with an invalid but from some hidden inner resource she seemed to be able to generate infinite patience for the slow moving pretender.
Still, he trusted her about as far as he could throw her, which with broken ribs wasn't far. She still worked for the Centre and it was a likely possibility that they would send someone out to see why she was taking so long to 'follow up leads.'
So he set himself a date by which he would leave. He gave himself another week to heal while he was safe in a Centre blind spot then he would strike out on his own again, to rethink exactly what the chase meant with this new parameters. Meanwhile though, he would try to rest and heal as much as possible.
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'Don't you get bored just lying there all day?' asked Parker suddenly, looking up from her book the next day. Jarod was lying spreadeagled on the bed.
'No' replied Jarod, 'besides, lying here's the only thing that doesn't hurt in any way'
'Yeah, but you could read a book or something'
'Why? By the second page I already know exactly what's going to happen.'
'You read the wrong sort of books'
'Pretender abilities, remember?'
'You're not that good PEZ head.'
'Want to bet? I will read the first chapter of that book and tell you the ending'
'You said you could do it by the second page'
'I exaggerated. So are you on or not?' He asked, raising his head to shoot her a challenge with his eyes. She just set her jaw and handed him the book across the small room.
With a small smile, Jarod took four minutes to read the first chapter. 'Too easy' he said, handing the book back to her. 'They will got go to war with Quirm over the island but Leshp will sink again and the fighting will have been for nothing.'
'You don't have all of it. You didn't mention Lord Rust taking over command or Veterani surrendering to Quirm. You even forgot the genius.'
'Genius?'
'That's why you should read the book. The first chapter doesn't reveal all.'
'Hmpf' replied Jarod, heaving himself off the bed. He hopped into the bathroom to relieve himself, using the crutches with more grace now he was used to them. As he was coming back out, Parker's cell rang.
He froze and watched her as she retrieved it and held it to her ear. 'What?'
Even from six feet away, Jarod could hear the voice on the other end of the line and it made him shudder. 'Had any luck with the labrat sis?'
'He's left quite a trail dear brother' she sneered sarcastically
'Well just say the word and I'll send a sweeper team right out to assist'
'They will only get in the way. I'm better tracking him on my own'
'I'm sure. Hurry back though. Our father would like to set a date for a dinner together and he can't do that until he knows when you get back.'
'I'll be back when I have the Labrat in handcuffs.'
There was a snort from the other end of the phone then Lyle hung up. Jarod leaned against the doorway into the bathroom and stared at Parker until she looked up.
'Don't you think that idle promises tend to demean the maker of them?'
'Who says I won't handcuff you before I leave?' replied Parker archly before turning back to her book. Jarod gave a half-grin, not sure whether she was joking or not, then went back to lie on the bed.
Half an hour later Jarod spoke again. 'You know, now that you've admitted that you're not actually really trying to get me back, the game's no fun any more.'
Parker put down her book and sighed, a bemused smile on her face. 'And you being a genius and all can't figure out a way to make it more interesting again.'
She didn't wait for an answer, just went back to reading her book. The words had set Jarod's mental patterns on to a whole new track. After two minutes of very hard thinking he stood and sorted his crutches. 'I'm going out' he declared.
'No you're not' replied Parker, not looking up from her book. Jarod shot a surprised glance at her. She had the tone of a mother that is in no mood for arguing with an errant child.
'Sorry Parker but you were right before, I'm bored. Whatever you say about the book, there's only one book here, which you're already reading. So I'm going out.'
'Jarod, if you get seen by anyone connected to the Centre, my lies are going to have to become that much more complicated.' She still hadn't bothered to look up. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off before he could with a simple 'no Jarod.'
He sighed and went to lie back down on the bed. 'I had more freedom at the Centre' he grouched sulkily, thinking of ways to get around her. Parker didn't look up or reply.
Inspiration struck and he picked up the phone. 'No Jarod' mono-toned Parker. 'I'm just calling room service. Or do you want me to starve to death?'
She sighed and gave a nod in consent. Hiding his triumph, Jarod dialled the front desk.
Parker didn't pay any attention to the phone call so when Jarod answered the door to receive a black case, a wad of cash and a tray of food she was rather surprised. She restrained herself until the door was shut to snap 'What did you do?'
'I told you, I was hungry.' Replied Jarod flippantly but seeing her look he expanded. 'I just asked one of the room service boys to get some cash out for me.'
'Cash from where? And what's in the case?' Parker was very nervous that any of these dealings would alert the Centre to her presence, and if they found out about this, who knew what would happen.
'Cash from an anonymous (Centre) Swiss bank account, which was illegal anyway because it was tax evasion. And the case is a lap top. Borrowed only.' So saying he unzipped the case and connected it to the phone line.
Parker's glare was sharp as needles but Jarod didn't look up or acknowledge it in any way. Once the computer started up he logged on to the internet and started typing away. 'Jarod what are you doing?' asked Parker in frustration.
'It's a secret' he replied calmly, not stopping typing. Parker could tell that she would get nothing from him so she went back to reading her book, vowing that they would move hotels again the second he finished.
Feeling her attention shift away from him, Jarod relaxed. It was always dangerous making Miss Parker annoyed, especially when you were badly injured and she was in possession of her 9mm and sitting five feet away.
Once he had configured the laptop so his 'activities' would go unnoticed, Jarod set about seeing what he could do to make the game more interesting.
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That night, Jarod returned the laptop and they left the hotel. After an extensive argument, he actually persuaded Parker to drive a few miles in the wrong direction so he could buy his own laptop before they made their way to another hotel, five suburbs away.
A week passed and they moved twice more, before Parker declared Jarod fit enough to run on his own. Jarod secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Interesting though it had been to travel with his huntress, she scared the shit out of him and he missed the freedom he had when he was solo.
True to her word, she handcuffed him to the bed while he was sleeping before leaving for Delaware.
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The phone rang, loudly interrupting Parker's slumber. It rang again before she managed to grab the receiver and hold it to her ear. 'What Jarod?' she snapped a variation of the usual theme.
'Morning Miss Parker' he replied chirpily, finding it much easier to harass her from three states away.
'Hardly Jarod. Two AM is not a time of morning, it's an abomination. Any particular reason for waking me up?'
'Not really. I was just worried that if I didn't check in then you'd trek all the way out here to look for me again and it would just be depressing if you found me so easily a second time.'
'Don't worry. I don't think I'll bother next time.'
'I had fun travelling with you too' said Jarod insincerely, 'I would like to say thank you for conveniently leaving a set of lock picks within my reach. I would have settled for a paper clip. I suppose I can use them where I'm going though.'
'Can we never speak of what happened again?' groaned Parker, wanting to go back to sleep.
'As you wish' replied Jarod simply, before hanging up. Parker sighed. It seemed that the late night phone calls were getting more inane these days. Burying her head in the pillow she tried to get back to sleep. Tomorrow she had to explain to her father her 'failure' to capture Jarod, and she'd need to be sharp.
Two minutes later she sat bolt upright. 'what did he mean by 'where I'm going'?' she wondered out loud.
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As she strode down the dark halls the next day, it was impossible to tell she'd spent half the night tossing and turning. He looked impeccable as usual. She was just about to enter her office when Broots came hurrying up.
'Miss Parker, have you heard?' he asked excitedly.
'Heard what Broots?' she snapped impatiently.
'Um . . .' he paused and looked around to see if anyone was in hearing distance. She arched an eyebrow. 'Jarod's back' he whispered.
'What?!' she nearly choked.
'When I came in this morning and he was sitting in one of the high security cells on SL-20. No one knows how he got there. He's not talking to anyone. And he's got a broken leg.'
Broots anxiously watched his bosses' face. He swore he saw something on it that could have been amusement. 'Take me there' she ordered, and Broots nodded and led the way to the elevator.
Jarod was indeed in a cell in one of the lower sub-levels, under heavy guard, although they let the stony faced Miss Parker through.
He was reclining relaxedly on the bed and inspecting his nails when Parker entered, alone, having left Broots with the sweepers. His crutches were leaning against the wall next to the bed. 'Took your time' he said in Japanese.
'I was woken up in the middle of the night so I slept past the alarm and was late for work' she replied meaningfully, although she took the hint and also spoke in Japanese.
'What are you playing at Jarod' she asked after a pause where it became clear that Jarod wasn't going to willingly tell her anything.
'Changing the rules of the game' he said simply. He didn't look up from his study of his nails.
'And here's me thinking that the whole game was me chasing you. Not you sitting on your arse in the Centre.'
'Ahh, but you're not really chasing me because you don't really want me back. And that's no fun at all. So I thought what you said about you losing power by me being here.'
'And . . .?' prompted Parker. Jarod just looked at her for the first time since she had come in and gave a mysterious smile. She hissed in frustration. 'I'll find out sooner or later so you might as well tell me'
'Hmm . . . let me see. No' He went back to studying his nails. Parker shot him a death glare. It was ignored.
'Fine' she said as she turned to leave. 'But when Lyle is beating the crap out of you I'm not going to help you.'
'That's only to be expected' murmured Jarod in English as the door closed behind her.
TBC . . .
A/N: I wrote this after undergoing major knee surgery. Hospitals are evil. And, OK I've got a grudge against Jarod's right side. So sue me. No wait . . . Don't.
Jarod stared at the blackness behind his eyelids and thought *a car crash* He wondered vaguely how badly he had been hurt. He couldn't feel anything; he assumed he had been anaesthetised. *No, wait* he thought, *there was an operation . . . I'm . . . I must be just waking up*
Still frame images and single sounds started to come back. Over and over he heard the loud screech of wheels as he tried to brake too late. The ambulance ride was a half-remembered haze of pain. Then he had been on a hospital trolley, semi conscious and being wheeled into surgery.
Jarod thought about the restraints, which had held him onto the trolley, and shuddered. It reminded him too much of . . . the Centre. They would come for him. He had to get away now.
He opened his eyes and desperately tried to sit up. 'Whoa buster, calm down, you're OK now' said a nurse soothingly, pushing him firmly back down. 'No,' he protested weakly, 'I have to go, I have to . . .'
'You're just fine right here. Just relax.' Over her shoulder she called to someone Jarod couldn't see, probably another nurse, 'Tom, could you get me 20mL of phenobarbitone please.' Jarod's eyes widened and he stopped his feeble struggles. 'No need for that, I'll stay still.'
The nurse raised an eyebrow. 'You a doctor? Sorry, we don't have any ID on you'
Jarod smiled, despite how weak he felt. If he was a Jon Doe then the Centre would have no idea that he was here. He was safe for the moment. Sighing, he relaxed and tried to get his still fuzzy mind to clear.
'I'm not a doctor. I just know a bit about things.'
'Things?' queried the nurse, also relaxing as it became evident that her patient wasn't crazy and starting to check the various monitors he was hooked up to.
'You know, this and that. I read a lot' replied Jarod truthfully as his mind started to get into gear. He assessed how long he could spend healing before the Centre found him and just what he should tell the hospital staff about himself.
'How bad are my injuries?' he continued. The nurse paused before answering. *Not a good sign* thought Jarod.
'You'll have to ask the surgeon, I can't really tell you.' Seeing the look that Jarod gave her she smiled. 'It's OK, you'll be able to walk out of here' she reassured him. Then there was a string of essential yet boring questions like whether or not he was pregnant/ allergic to anything/ had a pace maker as she inspected his vitals. Then she finished checking his blood pressure and heart rate then left him to finish waking up.
Anyone else would have been bored, left for an hour in post-op with nothing to do. Jarod didn't know the meaning of the word. Even though he still felt slow from the anaesthetic and numb from the painkillers, his mind whirred. The Centre and the pursuit team were always at the top of his thoughts but beneath that there were a variety of subjects from aeroplanes to ice cream.
When the same nurse that had talked to him when he woke came back to check that he was ready to be moved back to a normal ward he was so engrossed in thought she talked to him twice before he responded. Well used to strange or difficult patients, this didn't faze her.
'I forgot to ask before,' she said amiably as he was wheeled down the corridors of the hospital. 'Do you have any family members that should be contacted?'
'No' replied Jarod simply, thinking how loaded that question was. He was transferred from the trolley to a bed in a ward shared with three other (all sleeping) patients and six empty beds then left alone.
The movement had made Jarod aware of a faint pain beneath the numbness of the drugs. It made him want to know just what the car crash had done to him. Slowly and stiffly he lifted the covers back and thoroughly inspected his hands and arms. 'Bruising but no breaks' he thought. Next he examined his rib cage. There were lumps that definitely didn't feel right. He decided that this could mean anything from bad bruising to broken ribs. He couldn't really see any further without sitting up and it felt beyond him in his current state so he lay back down, pulled the covers back up and thought.
An indeterminable time later an older man whose face seemed to hold permanent traces of annoyance and impatience strode into the ward. The nurse that Jarod had met in post-op followed him, giving him a wink as she declared 'Jon Doe, car crash, woke up about two hours ago.'
'Definitely a surgeon' thought Jarod in amusement, recalling an old pretend as one of the more highly strung personnel of the medical profession. The man approached the bed, adopting a placating bedside manner.
'What's wrong with me?' asked Jarod anxiously.
'Don't worry; you'll be just fine. Some internal injuries, a broken femur and three broken ribs but a couple of weeks and you can leave. It was a pretty serious bingle you had there.'
'Anything ruptured?' asked Jarod casually, masking his horror at the list of injuries.
'No, but we did have to do some surgery to stop those ribs from puncturing your lungs. You were lucky. Intensive care for another three days, maybe four' this last comment was aimed at the nurse. 'Yes doctor' she replied as the man turned and strode out with a hurried and somewhat distracted air.
'Lucky? I'm going to need crutches' moaned Jarod. The nurse just grinned as she checked his blood pressure again. 'Believe me, it could be worse. If those ribs had gone one centimetre further you'd be breathing through a tube right now.'
'I suppose' replied Jarod as she moved on to the other occupants of the ward. Sighing he thought 'two weeks!' No matter if his name was on the system or not, Miss Parker would be there before that.
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A/N: The author is fully aware how impossible it would be to use crutches with broken ribs but just play along, ya? Oh, and try to guess what book it is that Parker is reading. If you have read it, it will be really obvious. I mean, *really* obvious.
One week later . . .
Jarod steeled his resolve and slowly peeled the covers back. Taking a shallow breath to stop his ribs from hurting he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. This awoke a number of aches and stiff muscles. He sat for a moment to deal with the pain. He hadn't taken the last dose painkillers offered to him in order to keep himself sharp for his escape.
He reminded himself firmly that it wasn't really an escape, he was just checking out of a public hospital. Still, they would try and stop him if they caught him. He pulled the drip out of his arm then slid forward on the bed. One foot hit the cold floor, the other was in a foot to hip cast and made a slight clunk.
Jarod sighed, and then regretted it as it sent shooting pains through his chest. He would need to find some crutches.
With an awkward hobbling hop he made his way through the incomplete darkness, over to the big cupboard in the corner of the ward. He picked the lock by bending the needle from the drip. He was rewarded by a cupboard full of various personal items, including his clothes but not the black rucksack he had had with him before the crash, although his wallet was in the pocket of his jeans.
With relief and some difficulty he pulled the familiar clothes on, very glad to be out of the annoying hospital gown. He had to use a scalpel to hack on leg off his pants to get his cast through.
Then he was up and away. A brief search of the ward failed to turn up any crutches so he hobbled slowly out into the corridor and to the lift. He knew that the in-hospital pharmacy would have some, if he could find a way to get them without anyone getting suspicious.
It was a slow and painful process navigating through the hospital at night. It was mostly empty so encountering someone who would take him back to the ward wasn't a problem. The real issue was the trouble he had breathing from the pain in his ribs and the difficulty to move without crutches and with a cast that basically immobilised his entire leg.
After what seemed like hours of alternate rests and hobbling he made it to a door marked 'Pharmacy.'
All was dark inside. The door was locked and Jarod suspected that it would have other security measures as well. There were dangerous and addictive drugs inside. All he wanted was some crutches.
He picked the lock with the drip needle he still carried. All was impenetrable blackness inside. He fumbled at the inside wall for a light switch and was rewarded with a sudden flooding of harsh fluorescent light.
Squinting slightly Jarod looked around and with immense relief saw that not only were the actual drugs kept in a separate room, behind the serving desk, but there were several pairs of crutches leaning in a corner behind the desk.
He grabbed a larger pair but still had to adjust them for his six foot three stature. Pulling out some green he left it on the counter as compensation, then moved carefully back to the door, getting used to the crutches and trying not to aggravate his ribs.
He turned the lights off and left the room. In the large hospital it took him some time to find the way out. Finally he reached the reception area. To his dismay, the person manning the front desk was not reading or dozing but was head up and alert scanning the empty room before him.
Jarod did his best to look like he was meant to be there and swung his way from the hospital entrance to the door.
A 'hey' froze him in his tracks. He turned around and gave a quizzical smile. 'Yes?' he asked innocently.
'You're that man from ward eight. What are you doing? You're not fit yet.' Even as the clerk said this he had pushed a red button behind him, probably to summon some orderlies. Jarod didn't wait around. He turned back to the door and began to crutch as fast as possible, ignoring the blinding agony of his ribs.
He made in through the automatic doors and into the cool dark night. Blinking to get his eyes to adjust he made out a small car park, half- empty. He didn't pause but hopped forward, looking for somewhere to hide, for he couldn't run.
He was weaving among the cars, toward the road before he heard the shouts behind him. Gritting his teeth he dropped to the ground, an awkward move with his crutches and his cast. Breathing rapidly he wormed his way under a car, as heavy footsteps moved closer.
Jarod watched one, then two pairs of shoes walk past, the foot steps coming nearer then going away again as they looked for a man that they rightly assumed could not run very far.
By the time they gave up, Jarod's breathing was back to normal, but his ribs were still burning from the way he had rolled on them. Unable to do much more, he rolled back out from under the expensive silver car.
Lying on the asphalt he stared at the few stars visible through the light pollution in the city and tried to master the pain. He knew he would have to get up eventually but right now it seemed beyond him.
He must have gone into a half-doze lying there because a repetitive sound emerging from the background of general city hubbub bought him back to reality. He listened without registering a 'click click click' that moved closer.
'Strange place to sleep wonder boy' said her voice dryly. Jarod suddenly found he definitely had the energy to get up. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his arms and got his good leg under him to attempt standing. Using both the car behind him and the highly erratic crutches he scrambled into a very unbalanced semblance of a stand.
Trying to get the crutches under control he nearly ended up on his but again. All of this Parker watched with amusement.
Finally, standing, panting, swaying slightly, he stood watching her warily. Her face was illuminated by the warm light radiating from the hospital but the emotions on it were unreadable.
They both stayed like that for a moment, Jarod realising that he didn't have a hope in hell of out-running her the way he was.
'And all this time they told me I was chasing a genius' she stated, quirking an eyebrow. Finally it got through to his struggling mind that there were no sweepers and she wasn't holding her gun.
'Why are you here?' he asked carefully, suspecting a trick because it just seemed too impossible that *she* was *here*
She cocked her head on one side and ran her eyes down his battered body before answering. 'An entire week without once being woken by an annoying, stubborn brainiac? Something had to be wrong. So I've been checking out all the Jon Does in hospitals around the area we last knew you were. Unlike mental wards, hospitals don't put nice convenient pictures along with their Jon Doe files. So I had to come in person.'
'At three am in the morning?'
'It's strange but somehow I always wake up around this time expecting an annoying, stubborn brainiac to phone. So I might as well put it to good use.'
The explanation seemed a little far fetched to Jarod and he still hadn't figured out her motives for being here so he just stood for a moment, unsure what to do.
'What happened?' she asked quietly, and there was something in her voice that Jarod had never heard there before.
'A car crash' he replied, still trying to ignore the pain doing laps around his chest.
'And you having done a pretend as a race car driver.' She made a mocking 'tch, tch' sound. 'I'm driving' she continued more seriously.
'Driving where?'
'Where I'm staying in New York whilst 'following a lead' on you' she said in amusement at the obvious thought that had gone through his head.
'I think I'd be safer in the hospital' he grumbled but followed her to where her car was parked in one of the spaces reserved for doctors.
Getting into the car was almost as difficult as standing up and they had to push the seat right back so he could fit his leg in then put the crutches in the back seat.
When he was finally settled in the car Parker got behind the wheel and sped into the night. Despite his worry about where she was taking him, Jarod found himself slipping off, tired from his exertions and still weak from his injuries.
He tried to fight it but was woken up about half an hour later by the cold night air as the car door opened. He blearily shook himself and began the manoeuvring to get himself out of the car.
The hotel turned out to be a rather tacky affair with disgusting carpet tile and lights that made your eyes hurt but at least in wasn't too big, and therefore not as far to walk for the now struggling pretender.
By the time they were inside Parker's room, he was shaking from the exertion. She looked at him in concern then herded him over to collapse on the couch.
He let his head flop back to rest on the back of the couch and heard her leave the room. 'Probably to call a sweeper team' he thought, but he was unable to do a thing to stop it.
In the short time it took her to come back he had drifted off again. 'For someone who does so much running, you get tired easily' stated a sarcastic voice, and he felt her settle down beside him.
'You try being hit by a car' he murmured, not opening his eyes or moving.
'I've got something for the pain' she nudged him gently. He opened his eyes and met her concern filled ones then looked down at the two white pills resting in one open hand. He shook his head slowly.
'Those could be anything'
'But they're not, they're pannadin forte and if you're going to be difficult then I'll force feed them to you.'
Jarod sighed, but lightly, aware of his aching rib cage. Shooting her a suspicious look he obligingly swallowed the pills.
'Jarod, you're completely at my mercy. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use poison.'
'There are worse things than dying' he replied although he could already feel the numbing drugs spreading through him. 'Come on,' she said, 'before you go to sleep again.'
She helped him to stand up, very carefully, considering his injuries. Handing him his crutches, she assisted him the few steps to the bed and helped him to sit down again.
Jarod felt he should protest when she started helping him take his clothes off but he was just too tired and too sore. Thankfully she stopped at his boxer shorts.
Once he had endured the ordeal of lying down between the clean cool sheets he was asleep almost immediately, despite the discomfort of the cast and the still sharp pain of his ribs.
Parker looked down at the stubborn man affectionately, though traces of concern ran through her. The injuries under his clothes had been horrific. His entire right side was a rainbow of coloured bruises and there were disfiguring lumps on his otherwise perfect torso.
Even though it was late at night, she sat by the bed and watched her quarry sleep. She had not been able to sleep well in a long time and figured she had nothing better to do, but soon, listening to his slow, even breathing lulled her into a light doze.
Jarod awoke feeling stiff and numb, yet strangely comfortable and disinclined to move. He didn't feel very alert and couldn't remember where he was but the sunlight hitting his eyelids assured him that he wasn't in the Centre and that was all he cared about.
Slowly his senses expanded and cleared and he lay and listened to the background noises. A shower running in the next hotel room, the gentle rumble of traffic and one very cheery, very loud bird.
Finally he yawned and opened his eyes, only to find a pair of cold blue eyes staring at him from the end of the bed. Involuntarily he jumped and the movement pulled at his ribs making him yelp and curl into a foetal position.
'Nice to see that preservation instinct there labrat.' She sounded very amused. Jarod scowled into the sheets and tried to breathe shallowly. 'More painkillers?' she asked, sounding distinctly unsympathetic.
'Why are you doing this?' he asked in exasperation, not uncurling.
'Doing what exactly frankenrat?'
'Not turning me in? Helping me? Take your pick.'
'The answer is really quite simple if you put your oversized brain to it.'
'There are multiple plausible explanations' he said stiffly, slowly and carefully taking deeper breaths to test.
'Try this one. Sibling rivalry. You go out there injured you'll get caught by my brother. Alternatively, I take you in and you become Raines and Lyle's project. Either way, I'll go down a just a *few* steps in the pecking order'
'So you'll go as far as helping your prey just to keep power?'
'Got it in one labrat' she said, standing and heading into the bathroom. Jarod snorted and shook his head then gently used his arms to push himself up.
He sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers with his one foot resting flat on the floor and the cast stretched out diagonally. Yawning again he ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to stretch without pulling at his intercostal muscles.
Parker reappeared holding some pills and a glass of water, which she handed to him. 'These are prescription drugs' he said, reading the name on the side of the tablet. She shot him a *look* and he shrugged and swallowed them with a big gulp of water.
Putting the cup down he glanced down at where his clothes lay on the floor then looked at Parker. 'Oh brilliant. You break a few bones and suddenly need someone to do everything for you' she grumbled even as grabbed his shirt and flung it at him. He caught it with his left hand to avoid straining his ribs.
Parker placed his one-legged jeans on the bed next to him as he put his arm through his shirt sleeve. He had to use his left arm to get the shirt on his right side then did the buttons up one handed.
The jeans were easier although they definitely looked strange hacked off at the hip. 'Now what?' Asked Jarod, looking up to find Parker coming out of the bathroom holding a small bag.
'Now we move. You should know the game by now Jarod. Same thing, only there's no one chasing just yet.' She replied crisply and stalked out of the room. He collected his crutches from where they leaned against the wall and followed as best he could, thinking wryly how the order of the chase had turned around.
One week and three equally cheap and nasty, inner suburb hotels later Jarod was feeling much better. He could even dress and wash without excruciating pain if he was careful.
He found it interesting to travel with Parker. She seemed to have exactly the same ideas on when and where to move as he did, bringing to mind the question of how easily she could catch him if she actually tried. He tried to believe that he had actually been genuinely outwitting her all along.
Another thing that had caused some uncertainty had been the tenderness that she had shown towards his injuries. Jarod had expected the ice queen to be much harsher when dealing with an invalid but from some hidden inner resource she seemed to be able to generate infinite patience for the slow moving pretender.
Still, he trusted her about as far as he could throw her, which with broken ribs wasn't far. She still worked for the Centre and it was a likely possibility that they would send someone out to see why she was taking so long to 'follow up leads.'
So he set himself a date by which he would leave. He gave himself another week to heal while he was safe in a Centre blind spot then he would strike out on his own again, to rethink exactly what the chase meant with this new parameters. Meanwhile though, he would try to rest and heal as much as possible.
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'Don't you get bored just lying there all day?' asked Parker suddenly, looking up from her book the next day. Jarod was lying spreadeagled on the bed.
'No' replied Jarod, 'besides, lying here's the only thing that doesn't hurt in any way'
'Yeah, but you could read a book or something'
'Why? By the second page I already know exactly what's going to happen.'
'You read the wrong sort of books'
'Pretender abilities, remember?'
'You're not that good PEZ head.'
'Want to bet? I will read the first chapter of that book and tell you the ending'
'You said you could do it by the second page'
'I exaggerated. So are you on or not?' He asked, raising his head to shoot her a challenge with his eyes. She just set her jaw and handed him the book across the small room.
With a small smile, Jarod took four minutes to read the first chapter. 'Too easy' he said, handing the book back to her. 'They will got go to war with Quirm over the island but Leshp will sink again and the fighting will have been for nothing.'
'You don't have all of it. You didn't mention Lord Rust taking over command or Veterani surrendering to Quirm. You even forgot the genius.'
'Genius?'
'That's why you should read the book. The first chapter doesn't reveal all.'
'Hmpf' replied Jarod, heaving himself off the bed. He hopped into the bathroom to relieve himself, using the crutches with more grace now he was used to them. As he was coming back out, Parker's cell rang.
He froze and watched her as she retrieved it and held it to her ear. 'What?'
Even from six feet away, Jarod could hear the voice on the other end of the line and it made him shudder. 'Had any luck with the labrat sis?'
'He's left quite a trail dear brother' she sneered sarcastically
'Well just say the word and I'll send a sweeper team right out to assist'
'They will only get in the way. I'm better tracking him on my own'
'I'm sure. Hurry back though. Our father would like to set a date for a dinner together and he can't do that until he knows when you get back.'
'I'll be back when I have the Labrat in handcuffs.'
There was a snort from the other end of the phone then Lyle hung up. Jarod leaned against the doorway into the bathroom and stared at Parker until she looked up.
'Don't you think that idle promises tend to demean the maker of them?'
'Who says I won't handcuff you before I leave?' replied Parker archly before turning back to her book. Jarod gave a half-grin, not sure whether she was joking or not, then went back to lie on the bed.
Half an hour later Jarod spoke again. 'You know, now that you've admitted that you're not actually really trying to get me back, the game's no fun any more.'
Parker put down her book and sighed, a bemused smile on her face. 'And you being a genius and all can't figure out a way to make it more interesting again.'
She didn't wait for an answer, just went back to reading her book. The words had set Jarod's mental patterns on to a whole new track. After two minutes of very hard thinking he stood and sorted his crutches. 'I'm going out' he declared.
'No you're not' replied Parker, not looking up from her book. Jarod shot a surprised glance at her. She had the tone of a mother that is in no mood for arguing with an errant child.
'Sorry Parker but you were right before, I'm bored. Whatever you say about the book, there's only one book here, which you're already reading. So I'm going out.'
'Jarod, if you get seen by anyone connected to the Centre, my lies are going to have to become that much more complicated.' She still hadn't bothered to look up. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off before he could with a simple 'no Jarod.'
He sighed and went to lie back down on the bed. 'I had more freedom at the Centre' he grouched sulkily, thinking of ways to get around her. Parker didn't look up or reply.
Inspiration struck and he picked up the phone. 'No Jarod' mono-toned Parker. 'I'm just calling room service. Or do you want me to starve to death?'
She sighed and gave a nod in consent. Hiding his triumph, Jarod dialled the front desk.
Parker didn't pay any attention to the phone call so when Jarod answered the door to receive a black case, a wad of cash and a tray of food she was rather surprised. She restrained herself until the door was shut to snap 'What did you do?'
'I told you, I was hungry.' Replied Jarod flippantly but seeing her look he expanded. 'I just asked one of the room service boys to get some cash out for me.'
'Cash from where? And what's in the case?' Parker was very nervous that any of these dealings would alert the Centre to her presence, and if they found out about this, who knew what would happen.
'Cash from an anonymous (Centre) Swiss bank account, which was illegal anyway because it was tax evasion. And the case is a lap top. Borrowed only.' So saying he unzipped the case and connected it to the phone line.
Parker's glare was sharp as needles but Jarod didn't look up or acknowledge it in any way. Once the computer started up he logged on to the internet and started typing away. 'Jarod what are you doing?' asked Parker in frustration.
'It's a secret' he replied calmly, not stopping typing. Parker could tell that she would get nothing from him so she went back to reading her book, vowing that they would move hotels again the second he finished.
Feeling her attention shift away from him, Jarod relaxed. It was always dangerous making Miss Parker annoyed, especially when you were badly injured and she was in possession of her 9mm and sitting five feet away.
Once he had configured the laptop so his 'activities' would go unnoticed, Jarod set about seeing what he could do to make the game more interesting.
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That night, Jarod returned the laptop and they left the hotel. After an extensive argument, he actually persuaded Parker to drive a few miles in the wrong direction so he could buy his own laptop before they made their way to another hotel, five suburbs away.
A week passed and they moved twice more, before Parker declared Jarod fit enough to run on his own. Jarod secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Interesting though it had been to travel with his huntress, she scared the shit out of him and he missed the freedom he had when he was solo.
True to her word, she handcuffed him to the bed while he was sleeping before leaving for Delaware.
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The phone rang, loudly interrupting Parker's slumber. It rang again before she managed to grab the receiver and hold it to her ear. 'What Jarod?' she snapped a variation of the usual theme.
'Morning Miss Parker' he replied chirpily, finding it much easier to harass her from three states away.
'Hardly Jarod. Two AM is not a time of morning, it's an abomination. Any particular reason for waking me up?'
'Not really. I was just worried that if I didn't check in then you'd trek all the way out here to look for me again and it would just be depressing if you found me so easily a second time.'
'Don't worry. I don't think I'll bother next time.'
'I had fun travelling with you too' said Jarod insincerely, 'I would like to say thank you for conveniently leaving a set of lock picks within my reach. I would have settled for a paper clip. I suppose I can use them where I'm going though.'
'Can we never speak of what happened again?' groaned Parker, wanting to go back to sleep.
'As you wish' replied Jarod simply, before hanging up. Parker sighed. It seemed that the late night phone calls were getting more inane these days. Burying her head in the pillow she tried to get back to sleep. Tomorrow she had to explain to her father her 'failure' to capture Jarod, and she'd need to be sharp.
Two minutes later she sat bolt upright. 'what did he mean by 'where I'm going'?' she wondered out loud.
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As she strode down the dark halls the next day, it was impossible to tell she'd spent half the night tossing and turning. He looked impeccable as usual. She was just about to enter her office when Broots came hurrying up.
'Miss Parker, have you heard?' he asked excitedly.
'Heard what Broots?' she snapped impatiently.
'Um . . .' he paused and looked around to see if anyone was in hearing distance. She arched an eyebrow. 'Jarod's back' he whispered.
'What?!' she nearly choked.
'When I came in this morning and he was sitting in one of the high security cells on SL-20. No one knows how he got there. He's not talking to anyone. And he's got a broken leg.'
Broots anxiously watched his bosses' face. He swore he saw something on it that could have been amusement. 'Take me there' she ordered, and Broots nodded and led the way to the elevator.
Jarod was indeed in a cell in one of the lower sub-levels, under heavy guard, although they let the stony faced Miss Parker through.
He was reclining relaxedly on the bed and inspecting his nails when Parker entered, alone, having left Broots with the sweepers. His crutches were leaning against the wall next to the bed. 'Took your time' he said in Japanese.
'I was woken up in the middle of the night so I slept past the alarm and was late for work' she replied meaningfully, although she took the hint and also spoke in Japanese.
'What are you playing at Jarod' she asked after a pause where it became clear that Jarod wasn't going to willingly tell her anything.
'Changing the rules of the game' he said simply. He didn't look up from his study of his nails.
'And here's me thinking that the whole game was me chasing you. Not you sitting on your arse in the Centre.'
'Ahh, but you're not really chasing me because you don't really want me back. And that's no fun at all. So I thought what you said about you losing power by me being here.'
'And . . .?' prompted Parker. Jarod just looked at her for the first time since she had come in and gave a mysterious smile. She hissed in frustration. 'I'll find out sooner or later so you might as well tell me'
'Hmm . . . let me see. No' He went back to studying his nails. Parker shot him a death glare. It was ignored.
'Fine' she said as she turned to leave. 'But when Lyle is beating the crap out of you I'm not going to help you.'
'That's only to be expected' murmured Jarod in English as the door closed behind her.
TBC . . .