Title: In Transit
Author: MMB
Rating - PG
Category - Vignette
Spoilers - Yup.
Timeline - after IOTH
Keywords - S/MP
Summary - A few moments in a corporate jet.
Disclaimer - They aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...
In Transit
by MMB
Miss Parker stared out the window of the corporate jet into the
fathomless black of the night sky, just as she had thousands of times
before. As she had from time to time since they had taken off, she
wondered once more just how late they would be in arriving at the site
of Jarod's apparently latest deed of do-gooding this time. This trip
was the result of the first clue they'd had on his whereabouts in
several weeks, and there was no clear indication of how old the
information was. For all she knew - and considering the information
came from Lyle and not Broots, for all anybody knew - Jarod may not
have been in this spot for a very long time.
Since their adventure on Carthis three months ago, from which they both
had barely escaped with their lives and Jarod with his freedom, Jarod
had managed to stay below the Centre's radar. He'd managed to avoid
Broots' masterful and multi-faceted detection schemes and not even
indulged in his regular late-night phone conversations with her, with
the exception of one very poignant call not long after her return to the
Centre. Even Sydney hadn't heard from him, and she knew that had been a
worry for the older man. It was as if the labrat had finally begun
tiring of the "you run, I chase" scenario that he'd been playing out
with them for years. Miss Parker couldn't honestly say that she didn't
blame him. Had the circumstances on her end been any different, she
would be toying with the prospect of doing something else in her life
as well.
But, of course, the devil in her circumstances was in the details. She
didn't have the luxury of just quitting the game and dropping out.
This game was for her, she had been told in no uncertain terms, a matter
of survival.
She sighed, then looked to the man who sat immediately to her left and
just shook her head in amazement. Sydney hadn't lost his ability to
make himself comfortable in just about any setting. He had been rousted
rather rudely from his bed in the middle of the night by Lyle's phone
call, as had the rest of them. But the Flemish psychiatrist's answer to
his immediate circumstances and continued fatigue from a tiring day
previous had been to simply drop his chin to his chest and close his eyes
the moment the jet was in the air. He wasn't quite snoring, but his
breathing was slow and deep and steady; and Miss Parker found herself
suddenly envious of his apparent lack of concern for his surroundings.
She sighed again; they were three hours out of Los Angeles yet, and there
was little to occupy her mind in the interrum with Sydney dozing
contentedly next to her and Broots completely dead to the world in the
opposite aisle seat. There was always Sam, seated against the forward
bulkhead facing backward into the compartment; but in striking up a
conversation with him, she'd awaken her other companions. Feeling the
lateness of the hour pressing in on her herself, she leaned her head back
against the headrest instead, and then straightened back up again
immediately with a shiver. There was a blast of cold air, part of the
ever-present air conditioning system on the jet, no doubt, that had found
its way over her right shoulder and down the neck of her blouse.
Her eyes were drooping more insistently, however, and it was getting more
difficult to keep the yawns stifled; so she finally broke down and
contemplated her options. She looked over again at Syd, wondering just
how deeply asleep he was and whether he would mind the imposition very
much, then gave in to her fatigue and the temptation to just lean to the
left and carefully rest her head against his shoulder. She closed her
eyes and, with a couple of deep breaths, was asleep too.
Sydney roused as the sensation of weight bearing down on his right
shoulder eventually insinuated itself into his dreams and dragged him
back to awareness, then he smiled softly to himself as he figured out
what was going on and shifted slightly so that they both could be more
comfortable. There had once been a time when she wouldn't have allowed
herself to be caught dead sleeping with her head on his or anybody else's
shoulder during a long or boring flight. No, she would have been downing
cup after cup of strong coffee to keep her awake and going until the
sweep was finished, then sloshing down an equally toxic amount of vodka
to counteract the caffeine. Not even a brush with death from a
perforated ulcer had given her cause to change her routine.
But then, those had been in the days before the trip to Ireland that she
still refused to discuss with anyone, in the days when her father - or at
least the man she believed to be her father for most of her life - had
still been alive. His body had been discovered about a week after his
ill-fated jump into the Atlantic, and the private funeral had marked the
beginning of the changes in Miss Parker. Always a loner before, the loss
of Mr. Parker had rendered Miss Parker lost in a way that even the death
of Thomas had not managed: her face never losing its vague touch of
sadness behind those expressive grey eyes.
While still capable of bringing a man to his knees literally and
figuratively with a few soft-spoken words, she had begun spending the
greater parts of her workdays in the company of the other members of her
search team for one reason or another. Greatly appreciated by everyone
involved were her efforts at restraining herself when it came to the
sarcastic barbs and ridicule with which she had normally treated them.
Only the arrival of Lyle or Raines through the door of the Sim Lab would
trigger the old bravado, with the barbs aimed in those gentlemen's
direction even sharper and more vicious than ever. Lately, at the
oddest of moments and in the most private of ways, she had begun reaching
out to him and to Broots - reaching out in ways that only those who knew
her very well would know demonstrated a decided shift in character. Like
now, sitting on a plane in the wee hours of the morning with her head
leaning against him, fast asleep.
Syd caught Sam's eye as the sweeper glanced about the interior of the
compartment appraisingly. Sam was the accepted fourth member of their
task force who was just as loyal to Miss Parker as any of the rest of
them were - and like the others, had eventually come to be more loyal to
Miss Parker than to the Centre itself. With a couple of silently mouthed
words, a glance and a nod, Sydney directed Sam to fetch and then cover
Miss Parker with one of the soft blankets from the storage unit above
them. She sighed as the warmth of the blanket began to work its magic,
and then turned toward Sydney slightly and tucked her right hand into the
crook of his elbow to gain a hold on his arm, then nestled down against
him as her sleep became truly restful.
Sydney smiled inwardly again, glad that she could accept at least this
little comfort from him; and then once more tucked his chin into his
chest, closed his eyes and dozed.
Feedback: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com
Author: MMB
Rating - PG
Category - Vignette
Spoilers - Yup.
Timeline - after IOTH
Keywords - S/MP
Summary - A few moments in a corporate jet.
Disclaimer - They aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. Please don't kill me...
In Transit
by MMB
Miss Parker stared out the window of the corporate jet into the
fathomless black of the night sky, just as she had thousands of times
before. As she had from time to time since they had taken off, she
wondered once more just how late they would be in arriving at the site
of Jarod's apparently latest deed of do-gooding this time. This trip
was the result of the first clue they'd had on his whereabouts in
several weeks, and there was no clear indication of how old the
information was. For all she knew - and considering the information
came from Lyle and not Broots, for all anybody knew - Jarod may not
have been in this spot for a very long time.
Since their adventure on Carthis three months ago, from which they both
had barely escaped with their lives and Jarod with his freedom, Jarod
had managed to stay below the Centre's radar. He'd managed to avoid
Broots' masterful and multi-faceted detection schemes and not even
indulged in his regular late-night phone conversations with her, with
the exception of one very poignant call not long after her return to the
Centre. Even Sydney hadn't heard from him, and she knew that had been a
worry for the older man. It was as if the labrat had finally begun
tiring of the "you run, I chase" scenario that he'd been playing out
with them for years. Miss Parker couldn't honestly say that she didn't
blame him. Had the circumstances on her end been any different, she
would be toying with the prospect of doing something else in her life
as well.
But, of course, the devil in her circumstances was in the details. She
didn't have the luxury of just quitting the game and dropping out.
This game was for her, she had been told in no uncertain terms, a matter
of survival.
She sighed, then looked to the man who sat immediately to her left and
just shook her head in amazement. Sydney hadn't lost his ability to
make himself comfortable in just about any setting. He had been rousted
rather rudely from his bed in the middle of the night by Lyle's phone
call, as had the rest of them. But the Flemish psychiatrist's answer to
his immediate circumstances and continued fatigue from a tiring day
previous had been to simply drop his chin to his chest and close his eyes
the moment the jet was in the air. He wasn't quite snoring, but his
breathing was slow and deep and steady; and Miss Parker found herself
suddenly envious of his apparent lack of concern for his surroundings.
She sighed again; they were three hours out of Los Angeles yet, and there
was little to occupy her mind in the interrum with Sydney dozing
contentedly next to her and Broots completely dead to the world in the
opposite aisle seat. There was always Sam, seated against the forward
bulkhead facing backward into the compartment; but in striking up a
conversation with him, she'd awaken her other companions. Feeling the
lateness of the hour pressing in on her herself, she leaned her head back
against the headrest instead, and then straightened back up again
immediately with a shiver. There was a blast of cold air, part of the
ever-present air conditioning system on the jet, no doubt, that had found
its way over her right shoulder and down the neck of her blouse.
Her eyes were drooping more insistently, however, and it was getting more
difficult to keep the yawns stifled; so she finally broke down and
contemplated her options. She looked over again at Syd, wondering just
how deeply asleep he was and whether he would mind the imposition very
much, then gave in to her fatigue and the temptation to just lean to the
left and carefully rest her head against his shoulder. She closed her
eyes and, with a couple of deep breaths, was asleep too.
Sydney roused as the sensation of weight bearing down on his right
shoulder eventually insinuated itself into his dreams and dragged him
back to awareness, then he smiled softly to himself as he figured out
what was going on and shifted slightly so that they both could be more
comfortable. There had once been a time when she wouldn't have allowed
herself to be caught dead sleeping with her head on his or anybody else's
shoulder during a long or boring flight. No, she would have been downing
cup after cup of strong coffee to keep her awake and going until the
sweep was finished, then sloshing down an equally toxic amount of vodka
to counteract the caffeine. Not even a brush with death from a
perforated ulcer had given her cause to change her routine.
But then, those had been in the days before the trip to Ireland that she
still refused to discuss with anyone, in the days when her father - or at
least the man she believed to be her father for most of her life - had
still been alive. His body had been discovered about a week after his
ill-fated jump into the Atlantic, and the private funeral had marked the
beginning of the changes in Miss Parker. Always a loner before, the loss
of Mr. Parker had rendered Miss Parker lost in a way that even the death
of Thomas had not managed: her face never losing its vague touch of
sadness behind those expressive grey eyes.
While still capable of bringing a man to his knees literally and
figuratively with a few soft-spoken words, she had begun spending the
greater parts of her workdays in the company of the other members of her
search team for one reason or another. Greatly appreciated by everyone
involved were her efforts at restraining herself when it came to the
sarcastic barbs and ridicule with which she had normally treated them.
Only the arrival of Lyle or Raines through the door of the Sim Lab would
trigger the old bravado, with the barbs aimed in those gentlemen's
direction even sharper and more vicious than ever. Lately, at the
oddest of moments and in the most private of ways, she had begun reaching
out to him and to Broots - reaching out in ways that only those who knew
her very well would know demonstrated a decided shift in character. Like
now, sitting on a plane in the wee hours of the morning with her head
leaning against him, fast asleep.
Syd caught Sam's eye as the sweeper glanced about the interior of the
compartment appraisingly. Sam was the accepted fourth member of their
task force who was just as loyal to Miss Parker as any of the rest of
them were - and like the others, had eventually come to be more loyal to
Miss Parker than to the Centre itself. With a couple of silently mouthed
words, a glance and a nod, Sydney directed Sam to fetch and then cover
Miss Parker with one of the soft blankets from the storage unit above
them. She sighed as the warmth of the blanket began to work its magic,
and then turned toward Sydney slightly and tucked her right hand into the
crook of his elbow to gain a hold on his arm, then nestled down against
him as her sleep became truly restful.
Sydney smiled inwardly again, glad that she could accept at least this
little comfort from him; and then once more tucked his chin into his
chest, closed his eyes and dozed.
Feedback: mbumpus_99@hotmail.com