Preface and Author's note and all the usual stuff...

The Pretender belongs to the Television Powers That Be, whomever they are, but this plot line belongs to me.

This story is dedicated to my mom, who has been a supporting factor for my whole 'I-want-to-write-and-you-can't-stop-me' phase. She loves the Pretender, and specifically asked me to write a story about it. Mom, this one's for you!

Luv, your rebellious, not-quite-teenaged-but-just-about-there daughter...

So ha!

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*Insomnia*



A Pretender Story

By Shawshank



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There are pretenders among us.

Geniuses with the ability to become anyone they want to be.

In 1963, the Center isolated a young Pretender named Jarod,

in order to harness his genius for our research.

Until, one day, our Pretender ran away...

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Jarod leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move.

He had all but run out of ideas, and was losing the upper hand.

The Center was quickly catching up to the quick thinking, in-his-mid- thirties man who had managed to elude them for so long.

He played with the videodisk Sydney had secretly sent him, and put it in his computer to watch it for the umpteenth time.

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"Jarod, work with me, not against me. It's for your own betterment."

The tone of Sydney's voice was low and slightly worried as he addressed his incredible pupil.

"NO!"

Incredible, yes, but Jarod could also be incredibly stubborn and resistant at times.

"Would you rather work with Mr. Raines? You know that he uses other methods, far more painful than mine. Jarod, I want to be your friend, someone you can trust."

"If you're my friend, then why won't you let me leave this place?"

"You're safe here."

"I'll accept the risk, just let me leave!"

Sydney was puzzled. Jarod had never fought this hard.

"Why do you want to leave, Jarod?"

The boy's eyes glittered with hope and anticipation, the only thing that had kept him going.

"I want to see my family, even if I can only stay for one minute. I want to see them, Sydney!"

"You can't, Jarod."

"Why not?"

The boy's voice was filled with hesitations, choked by emotion and shattered dreams.

"They won't let you leave, Jarod."

"Who are they to decide my fate?"

Sydney shook his head. Sometimes Jarod was more of a puzzle to him than little Timmy, one of Mr. Raines' failed projects. He forcibly erased the memory from his mind and focused on the present. No use in worrying over that. What was done was done.

"They are who they are Jarod. They run this place, and they decide what happens here."

"But Sydney..."

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Jarod ejected the videodisk and snapped it in half in one of his rare fits of anger. His family, the one thing that had been kept from him for his whole life, believing that some great power had subjected him to this torture, causing him to live out his life in misery.

Then, he had seen his mother.

She was beautiful, and though he had only seen her for a second, her face was burned into his mind. She had paused, and seen him too, though she couldn't have known who he was. She came to him in dreams, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat.

The Center. They had taken her away from him, but no more.

He had a solid lead, and tomorrow he was going to follow it. It led to Tennessee, and he hoped to find her there. He would hold her close, kiss her wrinkled cheek, and never let go of her again.

Mother...perhaps one of the sweetest words in the English language. Jarod would soon meet his mother, and they would make up for 35 years of separation. They would move to another country, away from the Center, and live out their lives in comfort and happiness.

His mother. He only had to wait 12 hours.

Those 12 hours would surely stretch out to eternity.

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"Jarod, we know you're in there!"

Jarod retreated further into the shadows. They had caught him sleeping, and this time there was no escape.

"Open the door, Jarod."

The hauntingly familiar voice of Sydney floated through the room. Jarod cringed, and curled up into an even smaller ball, if possible.

"Jarod, open this door. There's no use hiding anymore. You're coming with us."

Ms. Parker's cruel, soft voice mingled with Sydney's fading one, tainting the room with evil.

Apparently Broots had managed to break open the door, because the team that had been searching for him for five years came through the door, guns drawn, with the exception, of course, of Sydney. The old man had a strange trust in Jarod, one that the Pretender himself had never understood.

"Jarod, we won't hurt you if you come quietly."

The man in question shrank back even farther, afraid.

"Give it up, Pretender. Even if you did escape where would you go? To your family's house? They would never want you; you're a misfit. They don't want you, Jarod. They gave you to us willingly."

Ms. Parker's voice, sweet as honey yet deadly as cyanide, crept through the room, dripping off of the furniture and taunting Jarod's twisted but brilliant mind.

"NO!"

Just as young Jarod had done so many years before, the Pretender screamed out that final denial and launched himself without restraint at Ms. Parker, the woman who had flitted in and out of his thoughts throughout the years. Playing with his mind, pulling on his heartstrings, and slowly driving him insane.

One of the men shot him in the leg just before he reached Ms. Parker, halting his anger and frustration - driven assault.

"Tie him up and throw him in the trunk."

Ms. Parker didn't even spare her childhood playmate a glance as she sauntered out the door, a freshly lit cigarette in hand.

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Jarod had passed out from lack of oxygen on the way over, and they had to pick him up and carry him into the building, Ms. Parker heading the strange parade. She was in full gloat mode, pleased with herself that she had finally been given the chance to prove herself against the famed escapee and come out on top of the situation.

Sydney trailed at the back of the procession, looking fondly and sadly at his former student. Jarod was now being transferred to Mr. Raines' department, one of the worst possible things that could happen. His eyes lowered themselves to the dreary gray sidewalk as the rain began to fall. The Old Earth was feeling Jarod's pain, though there wasn't much that Mother Nature could do about the Pretender's predicament. It had become a full - fledged thunderstorm by the time they reached the building, and Sydney took one last look at the dull, angry sky before the door closed with a bang, shutting out the outside world once more.

Jarod still hadn't awoken.

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When the Pretender came to, Timmy, a.k.a. Angelo, was standing over him, a strange gleam in his eyes, which were sunken into his twisted face.

"I've found a way out. Will you take me with you?"

The words were whispered from a dry, cracked throat.

"What?"

Jarod's own voice was slightly fuzzy with misuse.

"I said, I've found a way out. Will you take me with you?"

Jarod smiled for the first time in a long time. He had found an ally in Angelo, and hopefully a friend.

"I think the question is more if you will take me with you, not the other way around."

"Let's go, then."

The way was almost completely unobstructed, and the Center personnel were probably all off duty, seeing as it was night.

But, the Center had guards posted 24/7...something was wrong here.

Just as the thought crept into Jarod's mind, a security guard rounded the corner, and Jarod and Angelo barely escaped being noticed. Angelo motioned to Jarod, and the two crept into an air duct. Jarod replaced the grating behind them, and the conspirators crawled on hands and knees through the dust. Angelo whispered an explanation to Jarod as they made their slow way to the light at the end of the tunnel.

"I put pictures over all the cameras. Since you escaped through here, they've taken extra precautions. They won't be able to see us, and there aren't any microphones in this place."

Jarod felt elation with their proximity to freedom. Soon, he would be with his parents. His face split into a grin, and he scrabbled the last few meters with a light heart.

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The Pretender and the Reader stood outside in the sleeting rain. Angelo looked at it, amazed, while Jarod dragged him towards the fence. There was no problem in getting over it; it was all about how fast you could get over it. He literally threw Angelo over the wire, and climbed up after him in record time. Jarod hot - wired a car parked outside, and he and the now liberated Timmy sped towards Tennessee, and home.

After that was all a blur. It seemed like they got there in seconds, though they had to have traveled for at least two weeks. Either way, they arrived at a pretty, quaint little house in a small town. Jarod went to the door and knocked softly on the door. The sight that greeted his eyes was worth ten lifetimes in the Center.

His mother was staring up at him and Timmy. She smiled and opened her arms, and Jarod's eyes leaked miniscule tears as she whispered into his ear, "I knew you'd find me, from that one single glance I took of you. I knew you were my son. We were wondering when you'd find us. Welcome home."

The words were some of the sweetest Jarod had ever heard, but no word was so sweet as the one that now flooded through his trembling lips.

"Mother."

He swept her up in his arms and swung her around on the yard outside, her laughter mingling with his. The years and anguish dropped from Jarod's weary shoulders, and he shared a moment with his mother that they would surely laugh about in years to come.

It was not to be so.

A man ran out of the house, quickly catching Jarod's mother in a headlock and holding the gun to her forehead.

"You'll come with us, or you'll never see her again."

Jarod knew the choice, and he made it without a second thought. His mother's life was surely more valuable than his own was. Timmy was hiding in the shed in the backyard; apparently they weren't as interested in the Reader as they were in the Pretender. His mother wept as they took him away from her again, and Jarod turned away. He knew he would never see that face again.

He tried to call out to her, comfort her, but they hit him hard on the head and he fell into a deep darkness. The darkness was soothing, but not as comforting as his mother's arms.

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