Disclaimer: I don't own the Pretender…despite any delusions my current Pez high has given me. Would you like a Pez? The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money out of spending hours of my day obsessing over them. In the event that you feel like suing me for using the characters, I will merely plead insanity due to overconsumption of Pez. So again, I ask, would you like a Pez?

Second Disclaimer: I liked my first one so much, I though I'd write another…not really. Anyway, I've borrowed phrases from the following movie of the Pretender: "Island of the Haunted." It should be noted that this movie is not mine. I never wrote it nor did I have anything to do with its development or creation. My apologies for using someone else's work. The book, "The Saddest Little Valentine," appears in the episode "Gigolo Jarod," in case anyone's forgotten. This book is also not mine and was written by "Jarod Heart," Jarod's pseudonym at the time. Anyone notice that the top of the book says he's a best selling author? I wonder what else he wrote… "The Sound and the Fury" was written by William Faulkner, and is… not mine, what else is new?

Summary: Lyle frames Ms. Parker for murder and guess who comes along as the local sheriff, that's right, Jarod. Will Parker finally allow him to free her from her prison, both literally and figuratively? Post IOTH.

Behind Bars

By Bec-Bec

A New Chapter

Poetic Justice

Lyle honked on his horn impatiently. He was stuck behind an endless line of cars. He silently cursed himself for not having the foresight to account for traffic in his plans that morning. How could he have forgotten something that was so blatantly obvious everyday of the week?

He pushed down on the horn again, and someone in the car in front of him stuck their head out of the window to yell foul comments at him.

"Have some respect, asswipe, there's a funeral procession crossing the street."

Lyle had several comebacks ready for the man, but he decided to keep his cool. He'd just bottle up the rage for later use. Besides, unlike the low-life in front of him, he was a gentleman.

Having ceased his relentless honking, Lyle was left in boredom in his silent car. How long was the damn funeral procession anyway? Presidents didn't even have this long of an entourage.

He'd only ever been to one funeral. It was rather meaningless too. He'd only gone so that he could show his support for his family…or more precisely, because his father loved his precious "Angel" more than life itself and he needed to be on his father's good side at the time.

The funeral for Thomas Gates had been another boring occasion in his life. Though, he did remember the vague pull on his emotions when he had seen his sister so near tears.

It had felt odd, seeing in her eyes the love she had for Thomas, and then he had felt lonely. Questions about whether or not he would ever have that kind of love in his life had surfaced.

But, he had quickly squashed those feelings. Love got you killed. It was a stupid meaningless emotion that got in the way and botched up the most brilliant of plans.

No, he couldn't love anyone; the Centre had made sure of that a long time ago…before he'd even known they had existed. They had broken Bobby Bowman and he'd stayed that way.

****

Jarod finished reading "Our Town" in a relatively short amount of time, and quickly moved on to another book in Ms. Parker's collection as he waited for her to finish deciding what she couldn't live without and what could be left behind.

He was mildly surprised that some of the things she had placed aside in her box, to bring with her, were little gifts that he had given her over the years.

The copy of "The Sound and the Fury" that Jarod had selected to read was momentarily forgotten as he pulled the book he had written for Ms. Parker out of her box.

" 'The Saddest Little Valentine,' " Jarod said softly, touching the cover lightly and then running his forefinger along its now curled edges. Jarod turned toward where Ms. Parker was standing. "I thought you 'skimmed through' this. From the state it's in, I'd say you've read it quite a few times."

"It was well written, that's all." Ms. Parker tried to sound nonchalant, attempting to pass the words off as though they were the only reason the book was in such a well-worn condition.

The truth was, she'd lost count of the number of times she'd read the book. She barely even needed it anymore because she had memorized most of the lines. Despite the sad story it portrayed, she couldn't seem to pull herself away from it because…it was her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jarod smiled knowingly. "I guess I can add author to the list of careers I could possibly have." He grimaced as the last words left his lips. He may never truly know who or what he was.

Jarod put the book back in Ms. Parker's box and released a long, heavy sigh.

"Ah, the eternal search for who we are," Ms. Parker said bitterly, her thoughts having traveled in the same direction Jarod's had. "I don't know if we'll ever find an answer to that question. That may just be a delusion, a dream we feed ourselves that drives us to keep fighting for some sort of poetic justice against the Centre."

Jarod nodded in agreement. "I suppose it's just the tragic irony of our lives; the freedom we want so desperately can only come from them, and yet, we'd rather be free from them than anything." Jarod paused for a moment. "We're caught in suspension, I guess. As hard as we try, our world never seems to change as much as we'd like it to."

"But something compels us to keep trying, Jarod. Is it stubbornness? Ignorance and Blindness? Or, do you think we might actually win? That our world really could change?" Ms. Parker's voice was low and she turned her eyes to Jarod, looking for some sign of hope that their world really could change someday.

Jarod smiled softly, wistfully, yet almost reassuring. "I don't know any better than you do, Parker. But, it seems, in a way, we've already made quite a few strides toward a change. Your decision to leave the Centre, in itself, is a huge stride."

"Yes and one that took a long time to prompt into happening. How much longer is it going to take? How much more of our lives are going to be spent fighting for the cause?"

As Ms. Parker spoke, her voice became tinged with annoyance at the path their lives had taken. It seemed that, as hard as they tried, they could never really free themselves from the dark oppressive forces of the Centre. No matter what, the Centre would always be looming in the background, as if to constantly remind them of the gravity of their situation.

After a long pause, Jarod finally spoke. "I can't answer that, Parker. I don't know. I suppose it comes down to whether or not you really want to fight them.

"It may well be that we have merely been looking for a poetic justice we've deluded ourselves into believing is attainable. It's also possible that we've been seeking some sort of revenge for the pain they've caused us in the past. I can't say that I haven't wanted to make everyone who hurt me at the Centre suffer as much as I did, but I've done my best to squelch those feelings. Destroying their lives based on revenge would just make us into the monsters they are. The only way we can really win is to make them play by our rules instead of theirs. And, in that way, I don't know how long it will take to establish our own field of play, if you even want to."

"I don't want to have a face off with hell incarnate but it's something we have to do. We don't really have a choice in the matter." Her tone was embittered, filled with resentment at being stuck in such a situation.

Jarod didn't miss her emotions, and answered tentatively, but firmly. "You always have a choice, Parker. I would never force you to live the life I live, waiting and planning to strike when they least anticipate it, while trying to stay beneath their radar. I don't expect you to always be on the run, looking over your shoulder, knowing that you're never really safe no matter where you go. I don't want you to never have a home. You don't have to suffer through that, you have the option to just walk away."

Yes, it was an option, but one he hoped she wouldn't take.

At the police department, she'd said that she was going to take down the Centre, that they'd taken too much from her over the years, but those words were spoken under unusual circumstances; he wouldn't hold them to her if she wanted out. In the long run, it would probably be safer for her if she did leave, and all he ever wanted for her were her safety and happiness.

Still, now that they were beginning to build a fragile alliance and she had finally allowed him a glimpse of her true self, he was loath to let her slip away. But, if he had to…he could do it…for her wellbeing. There was no point to her risking her life if she didn't feel she should.

The debate in Ms. Parker's head was minor and inconsequential; there was no way she'd just leave when her business with the Centre was so unsettled. Besides, now that she and Jarod were on the same team, the downfall of the Centre would be immanent. If there was anything the last five years of the chase had taught her it was that, together, she and Jarod were an unconquerable team.

There was barely an argument against her involvement in the battle of wits that they were about to start with the Centre. Sure, there were the logical reasons: she could die, he could die, they could both die, they could lose any chance they had to find the truth and put their families back together, but those things could happen whether they chose to fight the Centre or not. Aside from the fact that it was dangerous, she had no qualms about continuing the crusade.

There was also the added bonus that the relationship she and Jarod were trying to forge could blossom as they worked side by side. The foundations of their connection were there, they always had been, and over the years they had built on them slowly, but it wasn't until recently that she had realized how strong their interdependence had become.

She had tried to deny it while she chased him, but even then, she knew the reason she always got so close was that she understood him; the way he thought, the way he felt.

Now, she could admit that there was something between them, something that made them kindred spirits, fighting for a collective goal that could only be realized when they sought it out together. And now, they were most definitely together. It was time for their relationship to flourish, time for "something more" than "you run, I chase."

The short span of silence that had passed, after Jarod told Ms. Parker she had the option to leave, was broken by Ms. Parker's smooth and even tone.

"No, Jarod, walking away is not an option. It never was. If I thought it would solve anything, I would have been gone a hell of a long time ago. There's too much to fight for, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up the chance to fight for it."

"Are you absolutely sure you want to start down this road? If we're going to do this, we have to be fully committed to it because there's no going back once we start. It's a long process and as soon as it's done, it's done," Jarod's said firmly. He needed to make sure that it was what she really wanted, that despite all of the sacrifices she'd have to make, she wouldn't have any regrets later on.

"Jarod, we started down this road years ago. I couldn't go back now even if I wanted to. We've always wanted to know more about our past, about who we are. Maybe it was just curiosity when we were younger, but over the years it's become a necessity. I need to know who I am, and you need to know who you are. This is the only way we'll ever find any of the answers we've been looking for, the only we'll finally be able to move on…if that's even possible."

"We're children of our pasts, Parker, they will never leave us fully. And, we can't speculate about the future, it's too indefinite. I wish I could plot it all out with equations and variables and probabilities, but I can't. If I could, I'd tell you exactly what's going to happen, what we're getting into, but there are no assurances."

Ms. Parker sighed wearily. "No assurances and nothing to rely on…" She moved her hand over to where Jarod's was resting on top of her bookcase, and placed hers on top of it. "Jarod, I didn't want to trust you and I never asked for you to trust me, but somehow, in our little deranged world, it happened.

It could be that fate is just messing with our lives while we play as unwilling pawns for the Centre, but I trust the bond that exists between us. The Centre can go to hell for all I care, and if we help them to get there faster, I'd only be happier. But, no matter how hard they try, they can't destroy that trust; they've tried pretty damn hard and, while I wanted to believe they had succeeded, they couldn't sever that tie between us. There's no denying that this will be a difficult and long road, hell, it was already complicated and it will only become more so, but based on what we've accomplished in the past, I think we've got a shot at winning."

There was that open tone that Jarod was very quickly becoming attached to. Combined with her hand resting on top of his, he could feel waves of affection, understanding and acceptance coming from her and was almost shocked that he was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such emotions.

Ms. Parker, on the other hand, was disturbed by the fact that, despite her gestures, Jarod was just standing there tightlipped and stoic. What was the point of showing emotions if they were never appreciated or reciprocated?

"Are you almost done packing?" Jarod asked softly, trying to pull his attention away from the contact of her hand on his.

"Why is it that you a have a penchant for avoiding any sort of response when I pour my heart out to you?" Ms. Parker asked with mild anger. She tried to withdraw her hand, but Jarod caught it before she could pull it back. "Let go of me, Lab Rat."

"No. Why is it that you jump to conclusions so quickly?" Jarod asked, curtly. "Not everyone is trying to hurt you."

"Then what's with the silent treatment?" Ms. Parker asked coolly.

"I was giving the moment the respect it deserved. It's not every day that you tell me the connection between us is real and not some figment of my imagination or pitiful result of my subconscious. Pardon me for caring." He dropped her hand from his grasp.

"You know, Jarod, the two of us are really going to have to work on our communication skills so we stop jumping to unreasonable conclusions," Ms. Parker said softly after a short period of silence.

"Old habits die hard, I've heard. It's difficult to work past all of the defenses we have to protect ourselves. It would also be unreasonable to think we could get through everything within a few hours of one day." Jarod's tone was thoughtful.

"We've always been victims of unreasonable expectations, Jarod. That's just the way our lives go." She paused for a moment. "We'll figure out how to communicate with each other eventually."

"I heard somewhere that actions speak louder than words, and, in that case, I think the fact that you haven't tried to shoot me yet today is progress on that front. We must be communicating better already." Jarod smiled softly.

"The day is young, my friend," Ms. Parker joked, "and my gun's still loaded. We'll see how things go from here."

****

After several minutes, which seemed like hours, the cars finally began moving again and the traffic dissipated. Lyle would have been thrilled if it hadn't been for the fact that, while he was waiting, he had been turning the dial on his radio, trying to find something suitable to listen to, when he'd caught news that flights out of Chicago had been delayed due to fog. Now, his trip to the airport was meaningless, as was the long wait in traffic.

Angrily, Lyle pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street and drove back toward his hotel. He would call Susan after he'd cooled off. Perhaps her flight wouldn't be delayed for too long and she would still fly in before nighttime.

Lyle checked his watch. Nine o'clock; she should still be in by the evening. What was he going to do in the meantime though? Check on his beloved 'sis'?

No, she'd just bore him with verbal barbs and he wasn't in the mood for striking back at her. Besides, it might look suspicious if he showed up at the jail; presumably she'd probably already told them that he'd framed her.

What did one do for amusement when they were bored? Read? No, books were boring, though, there were some cute Asian women at the bookstore… He'd leave that as an option.

What else wouldn't leave him sadly unsatisfied? Getting drunk? Alcohol was a rather fine distraction…but he'd need to drive later to pick up Susan. So, that was out of the question.

He could track down Jarod, but there were no clues at the moment and the last place he wanted to be right now was the Centre.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

The cemetery. The idea came to him just as he passed through the intersection where he had been held up before.

Making another illegal turn in the middle of the street, while no cars were coming, of course, he headed off toward the cemetery. Yes, that was a fine idea, nothing was as soothing as a nice stroll through the cemetery. He might even go and visit the graves of his parents…the mother he never knew and the father who could have cared less.

Perhaps if he had grown up with them he would have turned out different. Maybe he would have had a better childhood…though, Parker was always complaining about her childhood. Yet another reason to hate her.

At least Mr. Parker had never beaten her, he may have left a few emotional scars, but he was nothing compared to Lyle Bowman. That man was a bastard, yet he'd still sought approval from him. He hated that he wanted a father figure, at his age he shouldn't need one.

Parker had Sydney for when Mr. Parker cruelly turned her away, but who did he have?

His "mother" had gone crazy, talking to animals that weren't there. With the nutcases that were his parents, who wouldn't have expected him to turn out like he had?

Lyle shook the thoughts from his head. He wasn't going to let the idiots who raised him, or jealousy toward Ms. Parker, ruin his stroll through his garden of death.

The cemetery was a wonderful place to spend unoccupied hours.

Bobby Bowman, the frightened little boy, was pushed back into the recesses of Lyle's mind, as far as he was concerned, Bobby no longer existed.

Author's Note: This incredibly short chapter clocks in with a remarkable…drum roll please…41 rewrites. Dedication, patience, and commitment, so you say…hmmm. I figured it was just perfectionism, but I like your words better, they make me feel less… certifiably crazy. It wouldn't be so bad, if I wasn't tirelessly trying to stay so close to the characters. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, short as it may be. Special thanks to Nancy for the phrase "fragile alliance," which I pulled from her review. I think it's the perfect wording for the new relationship that Parker and Jarod are starting. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer, but no promises, it comes as it comes. Thanks for reading. As always, feedback and thoughts would be greatly appreciated, respected, and treasured. Love Ya!