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 episode of the Pretender: "FX." It should be noted that this episode 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

The Seventhmost Chapter

The World Is Changing

It was late afternoon when Ms. Parker woke from her comfortable sleep and blinked her eyes open. The sun was low in the horizon and sent bright streaks of light through the windshield. Despite the cool time of year, the car was warm and cozy, exuding a genuine sense of safety. It was a strange and satisfying feeling, relaxing her body and causing a soft smile to grace her lips.

The peaceful silence of the car brought with it an inviting sense of certainty and tranquility that was not often present in her life. Things had a tendency to change radically and abruptly, and generally without her consent, making such assured moments a rarity. The few times that she had felt this sort of stability, had been either deceptive or

fleeting, leaving only the cold pessimism she had come to rely upon every day of her life.

With so little remaining constant in the past, she viewed the current change in circumstances warily but not without a small amount of tempered optimism. The further she and Jarod managed to travel without any hindrances from the Centre, the greater the possibility seemed that they wouldn't come across any. Even while past experience warned her that such moments of security never lasted long, she couldn't help but allow herself to be enveloped by the soothing atmosphere.

As the car gently hummed along, Ms. Parker began to understand exactly what Jarod had meant about not wanting to disturb the serenity of a moment. Talking would break the quiet spell that had fallen on the car and shift the temporary equilibrium. The new balance she was feeling would falter and the calm would slowly vanish, like dreams drifting away in the early morning between wakefulness and sleep.

Inevitably she would be left with the same uncertainty and unreliability as usual. Even optimism couldn't prevent that eventual end. However, regardless of the unavoidable, she wouldn't end it any sooner than was necessary.

Allowing herself to savor the security she felt as long as possible, Ms. Parker lay still, absorbing her surroundings for later recollection.

Breathing deeply, but not sharp or loud enough to disturb the silence, she committed every aspect of her current situation to memory: the way the car rolled along smoothly without interruption; the way the sun angled just right to bathe the interior of the car in a temperate golden glow; the feeling that the car was warm but not hot or uncomfortable; how the air seemed to have mixed with an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, scent… permeating the car with what she could only assume was Jarod's personal scent. Every observation served to further reinforce her feeling of total safety.

The car had become a strange sort of sanctuary. Like her mother's study, she felt that she could let everything go here, that pretenses were unnecessary and would be easily seen through if they were employed. There were no illusions here, no lies.

With an odd, slow-growing clarity, she realized that the atmosphere of the car had come to resemble the bond between her and Jarod. It had absorbed all of the complex aspects that made their connection so intricate and so strong.

Their relationship had never been based on lies or deceit. Jarod was completely open with her, and as hard as she tried to seem indeterminate and ambiguous, Jarod had always been able to read her. That honesty had led to trust between them.

However, their trust had not merely been born of honesty but, ultimately, of dependability.

Neither one had ever inexplicably broken the rules of the chase to get an upper hand. They had evolved a certain balance and reliability within the realms of the chase, a range of acceptable actions.

Purposeful injury was never used to take advantage over one another. It was a violation of control that was not permissible in their game of cat and mouse. In fact, Ms. Parker could count on one hand the number of times she had attempted to shoot Jarod, never actually hitting her target. She had often threatened bodily harm, but never really inflicted any. Mind games were the preferred method of strike and both had used their fair share on each other.

Psychological injury was a powerful weapon, and generally a common defense with each of them. They could both stand extreme amounts of physical pain, but if an assault was aimed at either of their consciences, that's when the cut was the deepest.

Perhaps that knowledge of where to administer pain was what allowed them to hurt each other in ways no one else could. However, even that was a paradox because it also helped them to heal each other's pain in ways no one else could.

They had often found safety in one another when either of their lives were in utter chaos. The ability they had to comfort each other from a distance, and often without words, was yet another part of their relationship that was beyond comprehension, binding her and Jarod together in a complicated, interwoven companionship.

As the sun loomed lower and lower in the horizon, Jarod's voice softly broke the silence. "Do you understand the value of a moment now?"

Ms. Parker remained still, not the least bit surprised that Jarod knew she'd been lying there awake for the last few minutes.

Jarod took her continued silence as his answer and smiled softly, taking a quick glimpse at the rearview mirror to study her countenance.

The contemplative look on Ms. Parker's face was almost serene and Jarod felt rewarded by the simplicity of it. The worry that had plagued her features before she fell asleep seemed to have vanished, replaced by a thoughtful calm that only served to further accent her already beautiful features.

Jarod had Ms. Parker's face imprinted on his mind as he reluctantly returned his eyes to the road.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Ms. Parker finally brought her seat back into an upright position.

"Did you rest well?" Jarod asked quietly.

"Considering that I was stretched out on a car seat, yes." She paused as a smile spread across her face. "Remarkably well in fact."

The corners of Jarod's mouth turned up when he saw Ms. Parker smile. "If it's worthy of a smile it must have been good. That particular expression isn't a common occurrence with you."

Ms. Parker's smile faltered and she became more serious. "I don't often have something worth smiling about."

Jarod was instantly sorry that he had caused her smile to fade. "It won't always be that way, Parker."

"I know." Ms. Parker valiantly tried to lift her smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as it had before. "But it has been that way for an awfully long time. Who's to say it will actually change?"

"The world is changing," Jarod reminded her softly, quirking an eyebrow.

Ms. Parker laughed softly, "It is, isn't it." Her smile grew again. "So, Wonderboy, where are we headed?"

"Ms. Parker, are you familiar with the concept of a roadtrip?" Jarod asked with a wide grin.

Ms. Parker's eyebrows rose skeptically. "I thought we were supposed to be plotting the demise of the Centre. A trip to Mount Rushmore won't get that accomplished."

"Would you like to see Mount Rushmore, Ms. Parker? I've never been there." Jarod effectively dodged her question.

"Jarod," Ms. Parker started seriously, "avoiding the Centre forever won't get us anywhere."

"I'm not suggesting that we avoid them forever, I'm suggesting that we go on a celebratory trip commemorating your liberation from the Centre"

Ms. Parker narrowed her eyes in contemplation. "For how long?"

"However long you feel like. It's up to you."

Ms. Parker continued to eye him skeptically.

"There are so many things I want to show you, Parker. So much out here for you to see."

Jarod's face lit up when he realized she was giving in.

"Two weeks," Ms. Parker stated firmly, "then we begin our siege on the Centre."

Jarod nodded his agreement. "Two weeks."

"So, Wonderboy, where are we headed?" Ms. Parker repeated her previous question.

"Oh the places we could go…" Jarod answered half jokingly, half serious.

Ms. Parker just sighed and shook her head. "The world is changing." Then she broke out in a smile again. "Drive on Maestro."

****

Sometimes the tinkling of piano keys danced through Angelo's brain at night. The song he used to know, still present in his mind, only warped and twisted. Now it was just a sad harmony, off key and without a beauty it had once possessed. The chords weren't right, they didn't fit into the right cadence.

Twinkle… Twinkle…

It was a haunting melody, echoing and ringing in his head. Sometimes it sang, becoming angelic and sweet, before collapsing into a jagged, rough cacophony. Either way, light or dark, it taunted him because he couldn't remember how it went.

Twinkle… Twinkle…

The memories were still there, he just couldn't piece them all together. They ran in fragments, some more prominent at times, while others faded into the background, and then they'd switch, or some would stay and some would vanish, only to resurface later.

They danced apart and crashed together, but they couldn't form a chain of events; a train of thought; couldn't match up; couldn't find the right notes.

Twinkle…

He'd stare forlornly at his fingers, willing them to know, grasping at the air as if the thread of memories was just out of reach, hiding in the darkness. But it wasn't there, and he couldn't ever get a hold of it because it simply didn't exist. It wasn't tangible, lurking in the shadows…no, other things hid there.

Pain and sadness, hurt, anger, hate, death, emptiness, rage, sorrow. They all swelled up and filled the air around him, crowding in on him and filling his lungs. They pushed the incomplete memories even further away, consuming his entire being until all he could feel, hear, taste, touch, see, was the story they tried to tell him. And then, he wasn't him, or he was, but without any of his own thoughts and feelings.

The sudden swirl of emotions would block out what little still belonged to Angelo, and then it was all gone, even the inconstant piano music.

But when they all faded away again, when some resolution was reached, or something came along to hold them all in again, they'd slide back into the murky corners. Angelo would close his eyes and they'd all slip away, riding indecisions and blank results in waves, hiding with the lost memories like the phantasms they were. And he'd be Angelo again…or Timmy…Or Angelo…or Timmy.

Twinkle…

When the feelings weren't crashing in on him, he tried to focus on the frames of memories currently residing in his mind; the small pictures that he could recall at that point in time, before they vanished the next day and didn't return for weeks or months. Though time itself was hardly conceivable, he hated how the images took so long to come back.

He could vaguely tell the time of day, some biological clock having settled in his brain over the years, but it wasn't constant. Some hours were counted out shorter than others, and some longer. What he couldn't tell were the passing of weeks and months and years.

The concept of aging was there, but how long it took for such changes to occur to people or if they happened slow and gradually were incomprehensible things to him.

He knew that Jarod looked older every time he saw him. He knew that Ms. Parker had changed from the little girl who had given him his first box of Cracker Jacks. He could see the wrinkle lines set in on Sydney's face. He knew he had looked different when he saw his reflection for the first time in a long while a few years ago. He could even tell that he no longer slid through the air ducts as easily and quickly as he once had, taking up more space than before and finding it more difficult to crouch down. But, when exactly the changes happened, he didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was no longer Timmy, and that's why he tried to remember whom exactly Timmy was.

"There is no Timmy anymore. From now on, he's to be called Angelo."

Timmy's gone.

He knew Timmy was gone. He had felt it for a long time, but the DSA always reminded him. And then there was the image, the electrodes and the flashing lights. He remembered the sizzle when he saw the picture again; how it felt to have the electricity vibrating through his body. The little hairs on his skin seemed to stand up in prickly patches with a life of their own, and then the shivers when it stopped. The way the searing pain filled his body. He remembered Catherine coming and trying to soothe him, but he couldn't talk, he couldn't respond at all. He just sat and quivered.

"What are you gonna do with Timmy now?"

Timmy's gone.

He remembered curling up in a ball after seeing the DSA every time. He saw Ms. Parker, Sydney and Broots as they watched what had happened to Timmy. He could see how Ms. Parker came and sat down with him. He remembered feeling that she had known who he was, that she had realized he was her friend when they were small. She was sad. Ms. Parker was always sad, but at that moment, she was sad for him. He could feel the sympathy coming from her, see the regret in her eyes. She knew.

Timmy's gone.

And then the memories would slip away and the thrashing piano would come back, until it slowed to a soft note and a pause and then another soft note. It always came back to the piano, equally relieving and unsettling at the same time.

Twinkle… Twinkle…

The crescendo returned, as he lay in his space, staring at the ceiling. The images were spinning around through his mind until they stopped abruptly, as though they had hit a wall and suddenly ricocheted away from him. It was a familiar abrupt clarity that only occurred right before the sudden onslaught of emotion his empath abilities picked up on.

Replacing the ringing pictures, the feelings suddenly flooded his mind. It was an intense sensation that started with a little tickle in his brain, and then suddenly an overload of emotions crowded everything out.

At first he couldn't keep them under control enough to read what they were, and was pinned to his cot with his eyes squeezed tightly shut as they thrashed violently through him. Some of the feelings were fiercely conflicting and struggled to take over the others. One would come in clear for a moment, only to be overpowered by another.

Grappling to hold the emotions together long enough to determine whom they were coming from, Angelo finally found their source and sprung off of the cot with a furious growl. His lips curled in a vicious bloodthirsty manner and his mouth and nose twitched menacingly.

Power… Want Power…

The adverse feelings rapidly turned around and Angelo curled up in a corner whimpering. He balled himself into a fetal position, cowering from a rage and hatred that only he could feel.

Pain… Hurt…

Like a seesaw, the emotions bounced back and forth, and Angelo kept pace with every change, reacting to their strange contradiction.

Rage…

Fear…

Hate…

Sadness…

Hours later, they flitted away as fast as they had arrived, and left Angelo in silence for a moment as he struggled to understand what they meant and whom they were focused at. Fortunately, the rough piano ballad maintained its absence, allowing Angelo to toil with the uneven feelings without its annoying presence.

For the majority of the morning, he had been experiencing the emotional upheaval of Mr. Lyle, whose jumbled subconscious was as severely inconstant as the man himself. The strange confusion within Lyle's mind was incredibly strong, which was presumably the reason Angelo had picked up on it without being near him or touching something relating to him. Lyle's own turmoil only added to Angelo's confusion. With such opposing sentiments fresh in his mind, Angelo emulated Mr. Lyle to the best of his abilities.

Lyle had always been unpredictable, which made him a hard read for Angelo. But, he was also a dangerous man, and, if one of Angelo's friends was about to receive Mr. Lyle's fury, it was necessary to discover whom his hatred was focused toward.

At first, it seemed as though Lyle's ill will was centered on Ms. Parker, but then it appeared to be concentrated on Broots, and then, finally, on Mr. Raines.

Raines. Hate Raines.

The anger toward Raines was undoubtedly the strongest. As though to reinforce the fact, Angelo's face twitched again with the horrible smile it held before.

Raines. Hate Raines.

If Mr. Raines was the main recipient of Lyle's anger, Angelo wondered why Ms. Parker and Broots were also held under his wrath.

Immense confusion fell upon him, fueled mostly by confusion within Lyle's own head.

Angelo had little control over his own impulses in this state, but he knew that something was undoubtedly wrong. That thought caused him to search out someone who might be able to help.

Sydney. Find Sydney.

However, Sydney wasn't anywhere nearby. Angelo's brow wrinkled as his brain realized that the psychiatrist was not in the Centre anymore. It seemed Angelo would have to deal with the situation on his own.

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait on this one. I've been on what I like to call "writing hiatus" which is just a fancy term for, "I had writer's block." Anyway, this chapter is finally finished. Opinions on Angelo's section would be appreciated, as he's rather difficult to write for. Thanks for reading! Love Ya! bec_bec@earthlink.net

Five weeks worth of writing hiatus, and the next chapter's finally here. Sorry about the wait, writer's block was running rampant for awhile, but it left long enough to piece this together.