Disclaimer: The Pretender and the Profiler belong to their respective intellectual property owners.

Chapter 37

The stars shone down on Jarod. At such a high attitude and with no harsh light pollution to drown them out, they shone much brighter and clearer than what he was used to.

Making himself as comfortable as he could in his fighting position, Jarod looked out at his sector of fire. He silently grunted in satisfaction. The point ambush was in place. His team and the Rangers were emplaced and ready to give a very hot welcome to the Talibans. The former Centre prize knew that the size of his force outmatched that of haji. But he, along with his higher ups, wanted no chances taken with these two high value targets. Hanging over their heads was the failure at Tora Bora where the US government made the godawful mistake of giving their supposed local allies the mission of capturing America's most wanted terrorist.

That decision still haunted the men and women tasked with bringing justice to the mass murderer. Thus, here was the former Pretender with an all American force. No local tribesmen or warlords hanging around deliberately sabotaging the mission, informing the enemy, or incompetently carrying out this task.

Finally allowing his very tense body to relax slightly, Jarod looked up once again at the twinkling stars. Those very stars had him recalling the last few days at home before leaving for this remote and unforgiving country. He could never forget the surprise upon hearing that Maureen restarted her old childhood habit of wishing upon the stars.

Startled and, at the same time, amused at this announcement, he asked her what did she wish the last time she did it. Jarod instantly sobered when Maureen looked at him, with fear that she didn't bother to conceal, and said that she wished for him to come home safe and sound.

Jarod instinctively did what he did in the same situation that he found himself in with Rachel. He reassured her that he wasn't going to do anything stupid, that he would be careful over there, and that he will come home to her.

The ex-Pretender tensed at that thought. He was going to go home to her. But as what though? Her friend? Yes. But more like she wish for? Jarod was still debating with himself over what the next step should be.

It was a cloudless but very cold night. He had on his snivel gear to make it through though. Camouflage gore-tex jacket, polypropylene shirt and long johns, balaclava, and fingerless gloves kept him warm while still allowing him the range of motion to carry out the ambush.

While waiting for word from the security teams that the Taliban was approaching, Jarod looked up at the stars and did exactly what his best friend did. He wished upon a star.

Star light, star bright,
The first star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

Jarod thought quietly for a moment before making his wish. I wish for the sign that will let me know what I want to be for Maureen. He sighed carefully in order not to let his breath be seen by anyone.

He began to wonder what was going on back home with her and Timmy right now when he heard over his earpiece a series of clicks.

All senses went on alert. Jarod could feel his heart pumping furiously. Their targets were about to enter the kill zone.

In his mind's eye, he can see Frank, Rich, and Larry transformed themselves into some of the most dangerous people on the planet ready to go into action upon his command. The same applied to the Rangers. Everyone knew what their part of their mission was.

Tauau and Phomkai were the designated snipers while he and Bagalan were the spotters. Nothing else would happen until after they took down the two HVTs. During the mission prep, all four men intently studied the pictures of the HVTs. DNI even had photo composite software

that allowed for changes to their facial features like what they look like with beards or no beards, turbans worn or not, etc.

Everyone had their thermal imagers aimed at the kill zone. Once Jarod's team found their two targets, he would be the one to give to order to fire or hold. The entire mission's success or failure rested on his shoulders.

It was a burden he was far too intimate with for far too long. Something that he dealt, easily and uneasily, with ever since that nauseating day of discovery when he found out what the Centre did with his sims.

Shaking off those black memories, Jarod got his attention back onto the mission. He looked intently through the thermal imager at the moving figures. He cursed at the resolution of the thermal imager. It wasn't fine enough to tell exactly which of the Taliban party were their targets. But he did have something to compensate for its shortcomings.

His Pretender skills. No, Jarod wasn't going to pretend to be anybody but himself tonight. Rather, he was going to put the skills that Sydney trained him in to find the two mujs. Body language, who was the center of attention, the formation that the Taliban were in was all part of the mental calculations he entered into his brilliant mind to find them.

Jarod carefully studied the Talibans. There. Softly, he told the team where the enemy was. "Target Alpha 450 meters at one o'clock. Carrying AKMS."

"Acquired." Tauau confirmed quietly.

"Target Bravo 470 meters at one o'clock. Two blankets crisscrossed over chest with pouch over shoulder."

"Acquired." Phomkai's flat tone came back over his earphone.

One last quick scan of the kill zone to make sure nothing was going to fuck up this ambush. Satisfied with what he saw, Jarod gave his command.

"Fire."

He heard the two shots. Watching through the imager, he saw the targets go down. Immediately hearing the rounds being fired, the Rangers joined in the ambush. The next few frenetic minutes, explosions, bullets going downrange, and shouts were the only sounds heard.

Jarod's team upon completing their task waited until the Rangers finished off the Taliban guards before getting up out of their overwatch position and moved quickly downward in a tactical formation towards the kill zone.

Jarod took point. Leading his three men towards the fallen bodies, all of them acutely aware that some of the "dead" bodies may be playing possum, they had their weapons primed and ready for any nasty surprises.

The DNI team was quickly joined by two of the Ranger platoons while the third provided security. Everyone methodically but hurriedly moved forward. No one wanted to stick around for any local enemy coming to find out what was going on. While Jarod's team and the Rangers weren't shy about fighting, both groups knew that this mission took precedence over everything else. Including sending some more holy warriors to paradise.

Jarod and Tauau paired up while Phomkai and Bagalan did the same. They were all in a hurry to get to the HVTs in case they decided to not be taken alive.

It was a gamble to thread through the dead hajis without making sure they stayed dead but the urgency of their task…Jarod thought.

Their luck held. The Rangers were very thorough. No one decided to pop up and fired off their weapons behind them as they scrambled by them.

Reaching Target Alpha, who was writhing on his stomach, Jarod took the role of guarding Frank while Tauau searched him.

Tauau first kicked the enemy's fallen AKMS, an AK-47 variant, away from them then getting the go ahead from Jarod, who by now had his rifle pointed at Alpha's head, the Samoan laid his bulking body on top of the Taliban and rolled him over.

To the Americans relief, no live grenade went off. With the threat of a booby trap taken care of, Tauau gave immediate first aid to the fallen haji. The hollowpoint bullet that he fired hit Alpha's right shoulder causing significant damage. But looking up at Jarod who gave him a thumb's up, the Samoan knew it wasn't fatal.

First aid taken care, Jarod's partner conducted a systematic search from head to toe for any intelligence materials. Done, Tauau flex-tied Alpha and put hundred-mile-an-hour tape over his eyes and mouth.

The pair saw their other two teammates coming up to them dragging Target Bravo none too nicely to where they were.

"We're good to go here." Phomkai's voice was pitched higher than normal. The adrenalin was still very active in the Laotian.

Jarod grunted out, "Good. Get ready to head out." He took a look at Bravo. The right knee was shattered. His medical training told him that the leg was going to be amputated unless they got him to a field hospital real soon.

Tiredly, Jarod told the team to wait while he went off to see the commander of the Rangers. It was a successful mission. The good guys won with no losses and the bad guys were short by twenty three mujs.

The smell kept everyone away except for Jarod. He didn't mind it one bit. After living in a true hell hole by the name of the Centre with its stink of fear and death for almost half of his life, the aroma of burning human waste was quite pleasant in comparison.

It was his turn to burn the human waste collected from the latrines. Since his team was billeted with the troops of US Special Operations Command (SOCOM) and the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC), his compound was separated from the rest of the sprawling base at Kandahar.

No local labor, no local soldiers, no locals period were allowed in. Thus, no leaks, no secrets divulged, no operations blown, and no pictures of men who operated in the shadows to be targeted.

Security was paramount. But the drawback was that everyone based inside the compound had to do everything for themselves. Like sanitation.

Once the waste was collected, an unpopular detail if there ever was one, the worst detail was to burn it. The result of mixing diesel fuel with the waste then setting it afire was an overpowering stench.

For Jarod, it was a time of solitude. A few hours left alone to do whatever he damn well please.

Right now, he was sitting in a fraying plastic lawn chair left by a long departed special ops unit opening up a care package sent by Maureen and Timmy.

The ex-Pretender was stripped down to just a pair of shorts, socks, and boots. His body armor, helmet, and rifle were within arm's reach. A pair of sunglasses was perched on top of his short cropped hair. He was soaking up some Sun and enjoying the scorching heat of the day.

The first things he saw were the usual items found in a care package sent over six thousand miles. Dried foods like noodles, granola bars, and candy. This, by decades old US military tradition, he shared with his team. Next were the personal hygiene items like unscented baby wipes, razor blades, and dental floss.

At the bottom of the cardboard box was a plastic bag. Opening it, the former Red File saw letters addressed to him from both Maureen and Tim.

Saving Maureen's for last, he read Tim's letter first. The empath told him everything was alright. He and Maureen went for a beach outing where they finally got rid of all their baggage and strengthened their friendship.

Jarod looked up at this and smiled. He was happy for Tim that Parker made the effort to heal and repair their relationship as well as their friendship. What he told her in his office was coming true with each passing day now. That little girl was coming back. Hell, shaking his head ruefully, she was here already.

And he still didn't know how to react to her.

Tim's letter concluded with his remark on how surprised he was by Maureen's cooking. Jarod heaved out a laugh. He couldn't decide whether that was a compliment or not. Well, he was always adventurous especially when it came to her. She always pushed him beyond the boundaries that he set for himself. When he got home, Jarod was going to eat her cooking. He just had to make sure his health insurance was in place before eating the first bite though.

Picking up Maureen's envelope which was larger and felt thicker than Tim's, Jarod wondered what she wrote to deserve such an envelope. Pulling out the contents of the envelope, the ex-Pretender opened up the folder notepaper.

What he saw gave him an instant hard on. A post-it note was stuck at the very edge of the first photo. Reading it, Jarod burst out laughing. It was a gut bursting laugh. He laughed hard and long. The first time he really enjoyed laughing since Rachel's passing. Not even with Timmy did he laugh like this.

He picked up the first picture and reread the post-it stuck.

Just reminding you of what you're fighting for.

Jarod eagerly went through the twenty pictures of her. The former Miss Parker in sexy lingerie, skimpy bikinis, and her trademarked microskirted business suits. The last picture was the one that almost made him lose control and just take her right there on the spot. Unluckily for Maureen, she wasn't there to quench his raw physical need.

He branded that picture to his soul.

Maureen was nude but her hands strategically covered her private parts. Her hair was done up in a beautiful bun with the end dangling over her right shoulder. The best part of it was her winking at him.

Jarod knew she was winking at him. Only for him.

This was the Centre's Miss Parker. The saucy humor that he delighted in was here in this very picture along with the heavy makeup. She put in a lot of effort into this for him.

It almost made Jarod…the smile faded. It almost made him feel human again.

Damn you, Maureen. You just won't give up, do you? he demanded of the sizzling picture.

Resting his head against the back of the chair, he closed his eye. By memory, Jarod leaned slightly over to pick up his bottle of warm beer where it was on the ground and drank a deep gulp from it.

Maureen wasn't playing fair. No, her oldest friend amended. She wasn't fighting fair. The lengths that she was going through to win his love alternately frightened and awed him. Still relaxed in his chair and the Sun beating down on him, he wondered how he was going to win against her or, more pointedly, if he really wanted to.

This was what he wanted a lifetime ago. The Rachel that he loved would have wanted Maureen in his life. The Profiler would have wanted him to be happy. A condition that he was never all that familiar with. He found happiness with Rachel. But that was all so brief that he wondered if that truly was his first and last chance at happiness.

Until, Maureen Parker aka Greene showed up on his doorsteps and again turned his world upside down.

The look she gave him in the hallway after kissing him on the cheek answered every question and settled any doubts about why she was back in his life and what she wanted out of him.

The acidic memories from their Centre years though still held him back from reaching out to her, to open up to her. Rachel was still the other factor that kept Maureen at a distance.

Jarod opened his eye to look up at the clear blue sky before hunching forward to look at the packed ground at his booted feet. Now, at this time in his life, was it love or obsession for Rachel that prevented him from establishing a loving relationship with his old nemesis?

Uneasily, he finished off the beer. The scarred man debated with himself if he should bring this finding to Tushar. He didn't look forward to being borderline interrogated by his therapist but, admittedly, the idiot doctor could clarify the situation for him.

Dropping the empty beer bottle by his gear, Jarod stood up. After safely putting away the steamy pictures, Jarod stretched his taut body. Done stretching, he headed over to the dump to stir up the burning shit once more with three things on his mind.

First, he wasn't going to share the pictures of Maureen with his team. These were too personal to be passed around and be commented on. He can already sim the lewd comments the other three would bat around behind his back and out of his earshot if he did share the racy pictures with them.

Second, request a session with his abrasive psychiatrist about Rachel. Was he in love with her memories or obsessing over them to the detriment of future relationships? Jarod snorted. There was just one future relationship in discussion. Tushar knew it, too. Him and Maureen. No one else entered the picture.

Lastly, Jarod stopped. His breath quivered and shuddered. In the intense heat of the afternoon, a chill crawled down his spine. The Pretender was going to allow a sliver, just a sliver mind you, to imagine what happiness with Maureen would be like.

Oh, God…

A/N: Another chapter recreated. Two more to go. In a previous a/n, I intended for this story as a writing exercise. One thing I wanted to do was to try my hand at writing some technothriller scenes.

I found it out it was much more harder than I thought. My estimation at Tom Clancy, Dale Brown, Richard Herman, etc rose a notch. It's not easy trying to write about characters and getting the details of the equipment right.

Anyway, this chapter like the next two are part of the original plot for those who are wondering where this story is going. It's going exactly where I want it to. So far…

Please read and review.

Thank you.