Answer to Jarod's Caretaker Challenge
Author: Sylver AKA Lysa
Rating: G
Part 1/1
Title: Jarod at My House
Disclaimer: Not Mine… don't sue! Just having fun with Jarod *evil laugh*
To all My PC Buddies….
You will not believe what happened to me tonight. I was coming home from work, walking down the street just a little ways from my house in Converse, Texas when I heard someone moaning. I decided to investigate because it wasn't anything other than a moan of pain.
To my shock, it was Jarod. Though he wasn't exactly like he was on the TV show. He was a little thinner, not quite as showy and handsome and Michael T. Weiss is, but the similarities were hardly coincidental. After all, haven't we learned that nothing is coincidental in the Centre?
I decided to take him home with me. How could I not? But as I was helping this stranger home, I began to wonder if perhaps he was just a look alike? There are people in the world who strongly resemble others, after all. What if he was some perverted stalker who'd been beaten and the police were searching for him even now?
Oh well, he was cute and I wasn't going to pass up the chance to drool over him in the light of my house. I finally got him home. He was barely conscious, hardly able to walk, I figured until I knew better, he wasn't really in any shape to do me any harm. Though as I walked into the house, I noticed that my mom, sister, nephew and daughter were conspicuously absent from the premises.
They must be shopping, I decided, and took the Jarod-look-alike into my room and laid him in my bed. Girls, I can't tell you how many wicked thoughts ran through my mind as he laid there, his dark hair tousled and his face relaxed in sleep. I had to snap myself out of the stupor I was in and go and find the bactine, gauze and tape. Did I mention he had a very nasty bump over his right temple? No, forgive me, in all the excitement I am leaving out details.
I cleaned the gash and made short work of bandaging his head. He lay there so quietly that I just sat there, watching him for the longest time. I don't know how long it was, but suddenly his eyes fluttered open and those troubled, chocolate eyes landed directly on me.
"Who are you?" he demanded hoarsely, trying to sit up.
Whenever I am tired, I am never very good at thinking on my feet, so I allowed him to sit up and just sat there, dumbfounded. He sounded so much like the Jarod on TV that I couldn't move.
"Hello? Are you even listening to me? Who are you?" He sounded almost like Miss Parker, I had to smile.
"My name is Lisa," I offered him shyly.
He frowned, "Where am I?"
A huge blush suffused my face, "In my house and in my messy room."
He nodded and relaxed somewhat, his eyes taking in the general mayhem that was my room. Directly left, next to the door was a set of white wire shelves where I kept my daughter, Riley's clothing. Next to that was her crib. On the wall opposite was my bed, complete with soiled baby clothing and yesterday's work uniform. On the floor were three tubs of clothing, one dirty and two clean. My closet door was opened, which took up the entire wall to the right of the door, and proudly displaying the boxes and other mess that inhabited that cramped space. Obviously, I am not much of a house keeper.
I giggled nervously, "May I ask you a question?"
He regarded me a moment, then nodded.
"Your name wouldn't happen to be Jarod, would it?"
He sucked in a lungful of air and looked heavenward, "Great, just what I need. Another Pretender fan," he muttered disgustedly to the ceiling, then looking back at me, "I suppose you write fan fiction too?"
I grinned sheepishly, "Well, actually I do. But nothing gross, mind you. I just miss the show and all."
He shook his head, as if questioning my sanity.
"So, the Centre is real then? The show was just another conspiracy to undermine your credibility?" I asked, almost breathlessly at the thought.
He nodded, not deigning to speak.
I started laughing, "Boy, I thought Raiven was making all that up, but maybe she was closer to the truth than even she knew!" I eyed him curiously, "So NBC is controlled by the Centre, right?"
He threw me a glare that would have done Miss Parker proud, "What is it with you people? I am not some sort of circus freak!" he sneered.
I blinked several times, suddenly serious, "Of course not, Jarod. It's just that since 1996, I have followed your "pretends" on the television, and all this time it was real. It's a little shocking. But I will do whatever I can to help you, Jarod. I wouldn't let them take you back," I declared, hoping that he would relax a little and offer me one of his boyish and charming smiles.
Instead, that seemed to make him even more uncomfortable.
"Do you want to know what the last Pretender Fan did to help me?" his voice was chilling and not at all what I would have expected from my favorite pretender.
I shook my head but remained silent, afraid I wasn't going to like his answer, and wondering what sick things people had done to this man before me, to make him distrust me so much.
"They kept me prisoner for months, chained to a bed! I barely escaped with my life!"
Eyes wide with fear and apprehension, I could only back away from this darker version of the caring and sweet Jarod I had drooled over on TV for years.
"They wanted me to "play" with them, Lisa. Pretend for them, act like that stupid fool, Michael did, on television! Well I am no one's puppet, not the Corporations, not yours and especially not Raines'," he yelled, his face taking an unattractive shade of red.
"Wait a second," I began, angry not only for myself, but for him as well, "I do not want you to be my "puppet", Jarod. I just think it is wonderful and fortunate that I found you and that I can be the one to help you. That is all I intend, I swear it on my daughter's life. I would never do anything to you but help you."
That seemed to get his attention, he calmed somewhat and put his head in his hands.
"Why don't you lie back down? I'll go and find you a glass of water and some ibuprofen for your headache," I told him gently.
He looked up suspiciously, but in the end, he lay down and closed his eyes with a sigh of what I figured was relief.
I came back a few minutes later with two white tablets of ibuprofen and a glass of purified water. I sat on my bed next to him and offered him the pills.
"Those had better just be ibuprofen," he warned.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, "A simple "thank you" would have sufficed," I scolded gently.
He smiled, the first time really, and dutifully swallowed the pills and downed the glass of water, "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his eyes refusing to meet mine, "Thank you."
I gave him a truly genuine smile, "You're welcome, Jarod. Why don't you try and rest. I can make you something to eat if you're hungry?" I offered.
He shook his head, "No, I am just tired."
I nodded, slipped from the room and closed the door softly behind me.
Excitedly, I went to the phone and dialed my mother's cell phone number. It rang and rang and finally went to voice mail. I frowned at the handset in my hand and hung up.
"That's odd," I muttered.
There wasn't much else to do but turn on the TV for awhile and wait for Jarod to wake up.
Over an hour later, I heard hoarse screams come from my bedroom. I jumped up and ran into my room, flicking on the lights as I went. Jarod was sitting up in my bed, drenched in sweat and looking around to room wildly as if he knew something was about to attack him.
I did what any mother would do; I went over to him and calmed him down.
"What's wrong?" I murmured gently, putting a soothing hand on his arm.
He looked at me for a moment as if he didn't know me, then recognition dawned in his dark eyes, "Bad dream," was all he would say.
"About the… er Corporation, you called it, right?"
"The Centre, the Corporation, it doesn't matter what name you give it, that place is still evil," he said bitterly.
I nodded, "A rose by any other name…"
Shrugging, he looked up at me, "You're not like the other "fans" I encountered. I am sorry I was so suspicious of you."
"No problem," I told him cheerfully, "I am used to being misjudged."
He tilted his head, "Oh?"
I shook my head, "No, it's old stuff and I really don't want to hash it all out tonight. Besides, you have enough things to worry about than my stupid griping," I evaded his questioning neatly.
He let it drop, "I need to go now, Lisa. I cannot stay and allow them to find me."
"Are you sure?" I worried, "You have a pretty nasty gash on your head. Head injuries are tricky from what I've always been told. You might have a concussion and if you do, you shouldn't really go anywhere," I told him.
He sighed patiently, "I know," then added, "Why do you care, anyway?"
I shrugged, "It's not in me to allow someone to suffer," I looked at him, then offered honestly, "Besides, I can now brag to all my friends on-line that I got to meet the real life Jarod. How many people can say about that?"
He tensed, "Don't do that! Whatever you do, don't do that!" he warned.
It hit me why all of the sudden.
"Well damn it, how am I supposed to rub their noses in it when I can't even tell them about you?"
He looked at me and grinned, that grin I had been waiting for, and let me tell you ladies, it was well worth the wait and MTW doesn't have ANYthing on the real Jarod, "Write it in a fiction?" he offered smugly.
I leaned over and threw my arms around Jarod's neck and kissed his stubbly cheek, "Jarod, you're a genius!" I cried, thinking how oddly coincidental it was that I was writing a fan fiction where Jarod came to San Antonio, which is not too far from my sleepy little town.
He laughed; a true, heartfelt, genuine laugh, "I know," he tapped his head meaningfully, "It's why they want me so badly, after all," he reminded me.
I sobered instantly and pulled away, realizing I had actually touched him. Another blush heated my face.
I stood and practically ran from the room in embarrassment, and heard Jarod mumbling to himself as he tried to stand up and leave.
I heard a particularly loud and uncharacteristic curse from Jarod and went to see what was wrong.
He was holding head, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Are you all right?" I asked, concerned
He nodded, "Just dizzy," he answered.
"Why don't you stay the night?" I asked ever so nonchalantly, "You'll feel better after a good night's sleep anyway."
He looked up at me for a moment, a guarded look in his eyes, "Isn't this your room? Where would you sleep?"
I shrugged, "Prolly my mom's room. Though whenever the rest of my family gets home, the baby will have to sleep in here," I added.
He shook his head, "No, I can't do that."
"Don't make me restrain you," I teased, "Seriously Jarod, I wouldn't mind at all. Just rest for the night. You can continue running tomorrow."
Suddenly he looked very tired and worn out, he nodded slowly, "Maybe I will."
"Don't worry about it," I told him, turning and closing the door behind me.
I went back to the living room and began flipping the channels to find something good to watch on the TV. There was nothing, so I turned it off and found the book I had been reading, Dragonswan, by Sherrilyn Kenyon.
I fell asleep reading and when I woke up I ran to my bedroom.
The bed was empty, but there was a note on my pillow.
It read:
Dear Lisa,
Thank you for allowing me to sleep in your bed. You are a wonderful friend and the best "fan" a Pretender could ever have.
J
I smiled and sighed dreamily, thinking, God what a hottie!
The End