A/N: This story was written in response to a request on the Fic on Demand LJ community. The request asked for a fic where "ideally the Centre is trying to lure Jarod into its clutches by going after Sydney and using him as bait. Put Sydney in any kind of peril you like - torture, even death - as long as the ficlet focuses on him and his relationship with Jarod."
Jarod traced the letters on the gravestone, silent tears running down his face. He knew that he shouldn't be here, that the Centre would only exploit this tragedy to try to capture him once again, but he couldn't bring himself to care. None of that mattered right now. Just as it didn't matter that this man who was buried at his feet had been his jailor, keeping him from having the normal childhood that most people took for granted. Because Sydney was also the closest thing to a friend he ever had in that God forsaken place. He was a father, friend, counselor and torturer all rolled into one, and Jarod felt hollow inside, knowing that he'd never get to speak to him again. He even felt a twinge of guilt. If he hadn't run away, perhaps he could have prevented this from happening.
Miss Parker quietly crept up on the figure kneeling in sorrow at the freshly dug grave, her gun drawn. All of her stealth and caution was unnecessary though. Jarod was so caught up in his grief that it took her placing her hand on his shoulder for him to even acknowledge her presence.
"It's time to go home, Jarod," she said quietly.
"I don't have a home," he replied in a forlorn tone.
He looked up at her, the tears still flowing freely down his face, and Miss Parker thought to herself that she had never seen him look so vulnerable. It was then that she knew that she couldn't do this. Oh, she still wished to capture him, ached for it like nothing else in this world, but she couldn't do it like this. She wanted to beat him at his own game, outsmart the renowned genius. Capturing him now would bring no satisfaction. It was a cheap trick, a punch below the belt. Such tactics violated the unspoken rules of their game. She could not bring herself to stoop so low…it was beneath her.
Cautiously, she took Jarod's hand and pulled him to his feet. "It's all a lie," she whispered. "None of this is real."
Jarod's eyes opened wide in shock. "Then Sydney…he's still alive?"
"He's fine…this was nothing but a trap."
Miss Parker closed her eyes, waiting for whatever screams of fury or twisted retribution Jarod had planned for her. It caught her completely by surprise when he enveloped her in a tight embrace, his body shaking with sobs of relief. Tentatively, she rubbed light circles on his back in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Things were so much simpler when they were fighting.
For several long moments, Miss Parker lost herself in his embrace, allowing them to be just man and woman rather than hunter and prey. But she knew she couldn't dally long, or Jarod would be captured despite her best intentions.
"We're being watched," she murmured into his ear. "Take my gun from me and run, before my back-up closes in."
She felt his hand start to slide down her arm, but halfway there, he paused, his body going rigid.
"Did he know about this?" he asked in a fierce whisper.
"Of course not," she lied with practice ease. "He would never do that to you. He cares for you more than you know."
Jarod tightened his arms around her briefly in thanks, and then without warning, Miss Parker found herself being unceremoniously flung to the muddy ground as her gun was taken from her. (The next day, she would find that a designer business suit and a lavish bouquet of flowers had been delivered to her apartment as an apology for his actions.)
"Thank you, Miss Parker. I'll have to be going now."
His words were flippant, but she could see the sincerity and deeper meaning behind them reflected in his eyes.
"This changes nothing, you know. The next time we meet, I will show no mercy."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Miss Parker."
And then he was gone from her grasp once more.
Sydney watched their exchange from a distance with mixed emotions. At first he had been shocked at the depths of cruelty the Centre would go to in order to retrieve their prodigal son, but he could have warned Jarod. He had chosen not to.
There were times he viewed the young man like a son, but he knew he failed miserably as a father figure. A true father would let his son go, bearing the pain of separation so that his boy could grow and learn on his own. But Sydney was selfish. He had missed Jarod terribly after he had escaped, and he longed for the days when things were simpler. This never-ending chase was tiresome, and despite the tremendous things Jarod had learned so far in his brief period of freedom, Sydney missed being the only person Jarod would look to for advice about the world. He had not been prepared for the abrupt feeling of loss he would experience when Jarod suddenly disappeared from the Centre without warning.
However, seeing the abject look of sorrow on Jarod's face while he wept at his supposed graveside, Sydney had to wonder...did the ends really justify the means?