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 lines from the following movie of the Pretender:  The 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.

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

Chapitre Cinq (Just because French is a great language, n'est pas?)

Searching for Stability

Lyle strolled through the cemetery at a slow and leisurely pace. He wove in and out through the various headstones, ignoring the names and dates that brought most people to visit the area. He could care less who these people were, or used to be. To him, the only purpose of a cemetery was to give people a place to walk calmly. Sure, the majority of the world would use a public park for an afternoon walk, but parks were infested with snot-nosed children, mangy dogs, flying baseballs and frisbees, and a thousand other vile distractions that a businessman like him didn't need. No, a cemetery was the perfect place to get away from it all. The only occupants here could no longer distract anyone at all.

The idea of death that the cemetery represented was soothing in itself. He could never understand why people were so afraid of death when it was such a large part of life. But then, he could never really comprehend people at all. They were stupid and annoying creatures, always complaining about one inconsequential thing or the other when they really didn't have any problems at all. He, on the other hand, had plenty of problems to complain about, but you never saw him blubbering about them, did you?

Lyle paused at the spot where his mother and father were supposedly buried. What a laugh, even in death no one got any peace from the Centre. Bastards.

His gaze fell on the stone marker.

Catherine Parker, the saint, the angel, everyone's bright shining beacon of light in this hellhole of a world and her companion in life and death, Mr. Parker, no first name given, the cold hearted business man, intent on power and led by greed. What an unlikely pair.

Sure, Mr. Parker did have his soft spots for Catherine and his darling "Angel," Ms. Parker, but other than that, the bastard could have cared less about anyone.

Perhaps he had tried to care about the son he'd only recently discovered, and maybe he had spent some small amount of affection on the young Master Parker, whom no one had seen since his birth, but all Lyle had felt from the man was coldness. He'd never loved him like a son. Hell, he'd jumped out of an airplane and left his own "children" to die. What kind of father would do that?

But, even as compassionless as he had been, the idea of Mr. Parker being his father was far less unsettling than the idea that Raines was his father. With blood like Raines' running through his body, it was no wonder he had become the same sort of monster.

Yet, despite all of his bitter feelings toward his supposed parents, and ever-changing-but-always-absent father, Lyle couldn't bring himself to resent the feeling that the kill brought him. All of that…power.

When he watched the last breath of air leave a body, he could feel for one millisecond of time that he wasn't useless, that his existence had a meaning and a purpose. He felt powerful, dominating, invincible. But, only moments later, his worthlessness would creep back up on him. No one loved him, no one needed him; he was small and inconsequential in the world.

Someday he would change that. Someday they would all have to answer to him. Everyone would fear him and he would be able to feed off of the power he had over them like an infant gaining nourishment from its mother. The acceptance he'd so desperately craved all of his life would finally be his and he could squash them all like the insignificant bugs they'd made him feel he was for all of these years.

Lyle spat contemptuously on the grave of his father and cast a longing gaze at his mother's name etched on the other side of the stone.

Catherine wouldn't have let him become who he was. She would have loved him despite his flaws, cared for him without reservation. But he didn't even have memories of her to comfort him. She hadn't even known he was alive. Damn Raines for taking him that day.

Lyle shook his head, half in sorrow and half to shake some sense back into himself. These sort of thoughts would only keep him from achieving his goal. There was no time for mourning something that never could have been when there was so much he still needed to do to gain his seat of control. Only weak children dallied in the past and he was NOT a weak child.

Cursing himself for allowing his thoughts to wander, and letting his mind disrupt the peacefulness the cemetery usually offered him, Lyle stalked back out to his car. He left in a hurry trying to put distance between himself and the memories of his past that he could never seem to shake.

Someone would pay for his years of pain and suffering, and that person was going to be Mr. Raines. But not today.

Lyle sped away to his hotel, it was time to call Susan and brighten his day with one small minute of pure all encompassing power.

****

Jarod sat on the window seat in Catherine Parker's study, admiring the view. Ms. Parker's house was surrounded by forest, and the scene spread before him was breathtaking. It was no wonder that this room served as a sanctuary for both of the Parker women. The serenity of the landscape could make anyone feel safe, even someone plagued by the insecurity and instability of a life where the Centre existed.

Reflections on the glass alerted Jarod to the fact that Ms. Parker had come back to the room. She had left a little while ago to pack some clothes, now that her more important belongings had been boxed up.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Ms. Parker said as she sat down next to him.

Jarod simply nodded in response.

Ms. Parker rested her hand against the cool glass and fixed her eyes on the landscape outside. "When are we going to leave?"

Jarod's gaze remained focused just beyond the window. "Soon. I'm guessing it won't take long for Lyle to find out that his plan has failed and you've escaped. Whether or not he'll realize that you're with me, I don't know. But, either way, you're not safe in Blue Cove any more." He turned to face Ms. Parker. "Lyle's getting desperate, and there's no telling what he'll try next time."

"My brother the cannibalistic rapist with a fetish for Asian women." Ms. Parker shuddered. "I'd rather not stick around to ride shotgun in whatever freak show he's got planned next." She turned toward Jarod, her voice becoming cold and hate filled. "The power hungry bastard has been trying to get his claws on the chairman's position for years. He's about to make a play to dethrone Raines and framing me for murder was part of some elaborate plot he's scheming."

Jarod nodded solemnly. "Getting you out of the way was the first part of his plan. With you removed from the picture, he's in charge of the chase. He's probably deluded enough to think he can catch me and that if he does, he can bargain with the Triumvirate for whatever his heart desires, including sole command of the Centre."

"Sounds just like my dear brother," Ms. Parker said disdainfully. "He's mistaken his insanity for a mark of genius. The twisted little sociopath actually thinks he can trust the Triumvirate. Raines has been their lap dog for years, there's no way they'd just hand Lyle the Centre on a silver platter. He's going to have to take Raines out of the equation entirely. If Raines is dead, the Triumvirate would automatically transfer chairmanship to Lyle."

Jarod shook his head in disagreement. "That's plan B for him. Lyle doesn't like bullets, he never did. Murdering Raines goes against his profile. He likes things slow and painful. He'll play the chase with me for a while before he resorts to killing Raines."

"How long?" Ms. Parker asked distastefully as she returned her eyes to the window. "How long is the chase going to last this time? Lyle's stubborn; he won't give up easily. How long will you play the game with him?" Her voice had become soft again.

"He's not as closely matched an adversary as you, but no, I don't expect he will give up easily or quickly." Jarod had returned his eyes to the window as well. "I don't know how long it will take. It depends on when we begin to establish the new rules of our chase as well as the Centre's reaction time once they're in place and the game commences."

"They'll be less than thrilled to find out that their prized lab rat and one of their executive operatives are waging war with them. They won't play fair, no matter what kind of rules we set up," Ms. Parker said ruefully. "We're playing with fire, Jarod."

"I've always had a sweetheart deal with fire. Like a moth to a flame, so they say." Jarod's voice was grave. "Propelled to want that which I'm not allowed to have. They dangle a piece of my past in front of me and I come running. I suppose it's one of my tragic flaws, chasing after a past I can't ever have, fighting for a future I can't even comprehend."

"It may be a future we won't want to comprehend. If we lose, it's all over, there are no second chances." Ms. Parker's voice was equally grave.

"We're still going to fight for it anyway. It must be some sadistic need of ours to search for stability in our lives." Jarod laughed sadly.

"It's better than not fighting at all. There's always a remote chance we'll win." Ms. Parker's voice was shallow. "If we don't try at all, we lose before it even starts."

"Admitting defeat before a battle is even fought," Jarod added. He slid Ms. Parker's hand off of the glass and into his own. The simple gesture helped to cement the newly forming bond of trust between the two of them. "It may be that I'm still searching for my past, walking into the same trap they always use to try and catch me, but walking away is just as dangerous as staying for the fight. I'd rather know I did the brave and noble thing than the cowardly, simple one.

"If we leave it will never end, but it has to. So we fight." His eyes looked into her eyes intently. "Ready?" he asked.

Ms. Parker nodded and rose gracefully from her seat. Their hands remained clasped and for once, there was no temporary alliance, they'd fight the entire war, side by side. "Let's give 'em hell."

****

The dead silence of Sydney's office, and the SIM lab just outside, allowed the Centre to appear almost peaceful in the early morning hours. Yet, peaceful was a state of being that never occurred within Centre walls and thus, the air seemed more suffocating than anything. It was as though the stillness had swallowed any sounds that could have drifted through and threatened its hold on the room.

It almost seemed that the ever-present oppressive forces of the Centre had succeeded in stifling anything that could jeopardize the relative sanctity of their evil doings. And, as always, the voice which might move through and stand against them, throwing off the balance of their entire operation, was crushed. There were no lengths that the Centre wouldn't go to in order to maintain their sinister silence, including murder.

Nevertheless, it was remarkable how someplace so corrupt and immoral could, for a few rare hours in the very early morning, give off the illusion of tranquility. It was an illusion not only because of its false nature but because it marked the absence of people; the loneliness of a life held by a Centre employee was anything but tranquil.

That very loneliness is what Sydney had awakened to as he slipped from the blissful relief of sleep back into wretched consciousness. He found himself in his office staring bleary eyed at the few pictures which adorned the cluttered workspace of his desk.

Case files that he had spent the previous night looking over were scattered around among highlighters, pens and paper clips. The record on the phonograph in the corner of his office was spinning quietly, the music on that side of the LP having finished playing hours ago.

It wasn't a rarity to wake up under such circumstances. Sydney had grown used to falling asleep surrounded by paperwork. While listening to the gentle tones of Soft Jazz and Blues, French lullabies and Classical ballads, he would drift off into the comforting arms of sleep. The reports on his various subjects and studies would be forgotten. The psychological profiles that he had to continually make for Jarod's latest pretends, regarding their implications on his psyche, would no longer plague his conscience.

For a short time, he could escape from the prison he had created for himself and enter a soothing world of forgiveness that was not present in consciousness. Sleep provided his only refuge from the hell he'd made.

During waking hours, the past haunted him. The constant pursuit of Jarod was a reminder of the little boy he had failed, as well as the brother and dear friend he had disgraced by continuing his allegiance with the Centre. He had allowed himself to become brethren with the same people who had stolen the lives of his loved ones and, in that act, allowed them to steal his life as well.

Most of the time, all he felt was numbness. A dead feeling in the very core of his being. Though, there were those few bright minutes every now and then when he could hear Jarod's voice and know that his protégé was alive and well. Those precious phone conversations brightened his mood to no end. At times, he feared, perhaps they affected his mood too much. If the Centre ever realized how much more than a science project the pretender had become to him, it would not end well.

When he had first escaped, Sydney had felt that the ties between Jarod and the Centre were strong enough to bring Jarod back, but the ongoing chase proved that feeling to be very wrong. It was quiet obvious that the Centre needed Jarod far more than he needed them.

Now, Jarod was out righting wrongs and helping the people he felt he had harmed over the years through his various simulations. At first, Sydney had felt it to be a misguided action, but as time wore on, he realized Jarod was doing the work he himself should have been doing…the work Catherine and Jacob had wanted him to do.

Perhaps it was too late now, but Jarod's escape had finally shed light into Sydney's otherwise dark life. The subsequent years had brought Sydney's turning point and retribution into view. Jarod's forgiveness was something worth fighting for and that was the first thing he needed to liberate himself from the Centre's hold. Atoning his actions was the only way to prove his loyalty to Jarod.

He had, on various occasions, disregarded his orders for the escaped pretender. A bullet in Raines' oxygen tank and a bomb in SL 27 stood testament to the fact, but it seemed those actions weren't quiet enough to regain his position in Jarod's life. There was trust between them, that much was obvious, but the friendship Sydney sought had not been offered yet.

Generally they played shrink to each other. Sydney would help solve one of Jarod's problems, and Jarod would help solve one of his. Slowly, they were building a bridge, beginning to come to terms with the fact that, despite all of the animosity between them recently, they were a small dysfunctional family.

In the past, Sydney had denied any emotional attachments to the pretender, but it was solely for Jarod's safety…and his. If the Centre had realized that Sydney loved Jarod as a son, they would have remove Jarod from his care and heaven knows what terrible things would have been done to him. To protect Jarod, Sydney had lied to his face.

Still, it was the little things they had shared that tied them together. Learning how to tie a tie, learning to shave, even a father's day card that he had been forced to dispose of in the pretender's presence but had later fished out of the trashcan. In every emotional way, Sydney would always be Jarod's father.

The familial bonds between them were stronger than the simple bonds of teacher and student. They always had been and continued to be so, hopefully without the Centre's notice. Ms. Parker suspected, at times, that Jarod was more than a lab rat to him, but as time wore on, she had kept those feelings to herself because he would counter that Jarod was more than a lab rat to her as well.

Of course, Ms. Parker was a different story. In ways, she was his surrogate daughter. He had cared for her mother deeply and promised to take care of the young girl if something should happen to her mother. As was usual of the Centre, something did, and Catherine Parker was murdered.

For a time, it was considered a suicide, and hurt Ms. Parker deeply, causing her to withdraw from all but her closest friends and family. At that point in time, she spoke only to her father Sydney, Jarod and Timmy. However, her father felt the attachments she had to the Centre's science projects were unhealthy and she had been torn from them as well. She was shipped off to boarding school in Europe and Asia and several years passed before Sydney saw her again.

When Ms. Parker had returned, she was not the same sweet, wide-eyed, innocent little girl. Her father had managed to create a split image of himself in her, cold and powerful. Yet, she looked identical to her mother and somewhere underneath the icy façade, the little girl still lived.

The grown up Ms. Parker stalked around in short skirts and high heels, which Sydney could only see as a desperate cry for attention. She may have acted menacing, but he knew she was still seeking the same approval she always did. Working at the Centre was testament to the fact that she would go to any ends in order to please her father, including selling her soul to the very place that stole her mother's life.

When Jarod had escaped, she had been assigned to the pursuit team with Sydney and he had gotten reacquainted with her. On a few rare occasions, he could see the little girl he knew, staring out through her eyes, but he had formed a new bond, of sorts, with the older austere Ms. Parker.

As time wore on, her façade fell a little each week. Perhaps it was the constant discoveries about her past that Jarod led her to, or maybe she was just tired of keeping up appearances, but slowly, the ice queen she tried to project simply melted away.

The theory had gone that, because Ms. Parker and Jarod had been childhood friends, she would understand him better and thus track him easier. When the chase began she had been dead set on dragging Jarod back to the Centre by any and every means necessary, but time brought with it a subtle change of heart.

Ms. Parker had started to realize the same thing Sydney had, Jarod was out in the world doing her work, the work her mother died doing. Each new clue from Jarod brought her a little closer to her past and ove rtime, a slender thread of trust had been created between the huntress and her prey. Now, her relationship with the pretender was nearly as complicated as Sydney's.

As Jarod had opened her eyes, Sydney had regained a place in Ms. Parker's heart as well, and considered her just as much his daughter as he considered Jarod his son. Ever watchful of their safety, he kept up appearances with her as well. From the Centre's point of view, everything should seem strictly professional, but in every way that counted he was a vigilant father figure to her. He often warned her against the habit she had of drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes, and even though she grumbled at him, he knew she was glad to have someone around who cared enough to worry over her health. In fact the kindness had been repaid when Sydney himself had gone on a rare drinking binge.

Ms. Parker took care of Sydney in her own awkward way, keeping him from shooting shadows from his past and helping with his ill twin brother. Despite the Centre's interference, Ms. Parker, Jarod and Sydney had formed a small, relatively dysfunctional, family unit.

Sydney's eyes adjusted to the room as he wiped the sleep from them. Waking up facing the framed pictures of Catherine and Jacob, as well as copies of Ms. Parker and Jarod's photos, which he had pulled out of his desk the night before, made him feel oddly as though he were surrounded by his actual family members.

His thoughts had propelled through what had happened to them in the past few years, as he fully woke to the disquieting silence of his office and the SIM lab.

The stillness of the room was common enough around the hour he had woken, but over three hours later the silence was still present and Sydney looked up from his work wondering where Broots and Ms. Parker were.

"C'est étrange." Sydney muttered. "Where are Miss Parker and Broots?"

It was unlike either of them to have not arrived by nine thirty. By now, Broots would have come bumbling in complaining about the traffic on the way to dropping of Debbie for school in the morning. Ms. Parker would have followed shortly after, either recovering from a hangover or another night of insomnia, with a cup of coffee in hand, and shot menacing remarks at the jittering techie while trying to unsettle Sydney's quite demeanor.

The lack of their company made his office and the SIM lab all that much more unsettling in their continued silence. Maybe he should call to see where they were. No, they were most likely just running a bit late. Perhaps Broots was caught in traffic, and perhaps Miss Parker had finally gotten some much-needed rest. He'd just wait a little longer.

Author's Note: Ms. Parker and Jarod's section ended up being rather short, purely by accident. I hadn't initially intended to bring Sydney into this chapter but his section just popped into my head. Standard rewrite counts apply… Thanks for reading! Love Ya!