Snapshot
By Samantha
Part 1
~*~
Author's Note: Dude! I just totally realized that I left out a disclaimer. So, I'm going to add a blanket disclaimer to this one, and it will go for the rest of the series. Oh, p.s., thanks to my reviewer. Notice, the single usage. Please review if you read. I'd like to see what you think about this story. Thanks!
Disclaimer: The Pretender is not mine, although I sincerely wish it were in my hands, because then we would have some freaking closure! Anywho, the poem Ozymandius was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley a long, long time ago. I don't own that either, though I wish that I would have thought of it. . .but that's probably impossible.
~*~
Marisa sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring down her cheeks. She shivered as she gathered her quilt to her body, desperately wanting to find some warmth. The nightmares were getting worse. Just being this close to Jarod brought back traumatizing memories of her rape.
She knew that it was all in the past, and the rapist was put away. But the thought was still as terrible as the day it took place. She looked at the clock and sighed when she saw that the red digital numbers read 3:27.
Marisa wrapped the quilt around her as she got out of bed and walked toward her kitchen. After she started her coffee maker, she leaned against the counter and stared blankly out the window. Snatches of the dream floated back into her mind.
She was suddenly jerked out of her trance when she felt something snake around her ankles. She looked down and saw Esperanza, her cat looking up at her with large green eyes.
"Peri," Marisa murmured her nickname with a slight scolding tone as she picked up the jet black cat. She petted the cat's downy fur in long, soothing strokes. "¿Qué está pasando, gatita?" she asked huskily in her native tongue. "Eh?" She smiled softly to herself as the fear and worry began to melt away.
~*~
Jarod had searched forever for the picture, but he couldn't find it in the directory. In frustration, he ransacked his room, looking for anything about the mysterious woman who seemed extremely familiar. After a few hours, he came across a piece of paper that was recently dated. He looked it over and found that it was a memo introducing the new staff members. Jarod's name was there, as were two other men. And then there was only one female listed: Marisa Walker.
It was a long shot, but he figured it was worth it. Jarod booted up his computer and in no time was on the Internet and hacking into the school's personnel files. After a few moments, he found her. He clicked on the link under her name, and an enlarged picture appeared on the screen.
The first thing he found himself looking into was a pair of huge hunter green eyes. Even though it was a hastily taken picture, the camera had captured a haunting past of pain that lingered in her eyes. Then Jarod took in her silky shoulder length black hair. Next was her nose, small and slightly upturned. Her mouth naturally fell into a slight pout, making her seem like a child. But her facial structure said otherwise. Her face was an oval shape, and she had high, defined cheekbones. Her skin was a rich tan color, and without blemish. Except for one thin, silver scar along her left cheek.
After getting over her breathtaking beauty, Jarod studied her face more closely, trying to remember anything that he could. After a long time, he gave up. It was somewhere in the dark recesses of his information warehouse, but he couldn't quite find it.
He looked to the clock. It read 4:45. Jarod rubbed his eyes as he moved to make a pot of extra dark coffee. There would be no sleep for him this night.
~*~
Marisa smiled as her last class filed out of the room.
"Adios, Señorita," some called out as they passed through the door. She shook her head to herself. Her original career goal had never been teaching, but she found that she liked it. Especially teaching others her native language.
She turned her attention to erasing the white dry erase board, so she didn't notice when he walked in.
"Your students think the world of you," Jarod rumbled, leaning against the door frame. Marisa jumped slightly, put the eraser down, and then turned to face him.
"The same could be said of you, Señor Keats," she said with a nervous smile on her face. The two stood in an uncomfortable silence, measuring each other up. Jarod cracked first.
"Who are you?" he asked, genuine confusion on his face. Marisa looked down before answering.
"Marisa Walker, Spanish teacher," she whispered, still looking at her feet, "But I used to be Alison Douglas." She didn't look up, letting the information sink in.
"Alison. . ." he whispered, "Alison?" Jarod moved forward and gently took ahold of her shoulders. "*That* Alison Douglas?" She looked into his eyes and nodded. He let go of her shoulders and rubbed his chin.
"They always say third time's a charm," she offered weakly. Jarod shifted his feet and then looked back at her.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. Every instinct told Marisa to look away. Instead, she stood her ground and held his gaze.
"I had to thank you. You left the college without a trace. I just now got ahold of your trail." Jarod shook his head. "Please, don't be angry. You've appeared in my life twice. That, alone, must mean something. I needed to thank you. To get closure." Marisa swallowed. Jarod stood silent for a long time.
"I understand, Al--Marisa. Why did you change your name?"
"I'm a different person than I was before. . .it. . . happened. It just seemed right." Jarod nodded. "Thank you, Señor Jarod," she murmured, reverting to the nickname she had given him six years ago, "Thank you for everything." Her lower lip trembled as she turned to finish erasing the board.
Jarod stood in the same place for a few brief moments, watching her at work. Then an idea popped into his head. He asked with a light tone, "Would you be willing to give me a hand?" Marisa paused before continuing with her task.
"What did you have in mind?" she countered, her back still to him.
"Well, the previous Brit Lit teacher didn't kill herself." Marisa put down the eraser once more as she turned to face him, an inquisitive look on her face urging him to continue. Jarod looked around briefly.
"We shouldn't do this here. Up for dinner?"
~*~
Miss Parker stormed into her office, rage written all over her face.
"Where is he?!" she bellowed, frustration getting the better of her. Broots, the poor man, had been about to take a sip of a fresh cup of coffee when she'd violently entered the room, and ended up with the scalding liquid all down his front. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex box and began swiping the tissues at his horrendously loud Hawaiian shirt.
"I-I don't know, Miss Parker. There isn't a trace of him anywhere, that I can find." Parker bent over and beckoned him with her finger to move closer. Broots put the Kleenex down and sat forward in his seat.
"FIND HIM!" she shouted, causing the techie to jump once more.
"Now, Parker, that behavior definitely isn't good for your ulcer," mused Sydney as he walked into the office with a newspaper folded under one arm and a Styrofoam cup in the other. Parker's nostril's flared as she stood up to address him.
"When I want your opinion, Freud, I'll tell it to you. What's not good for my ulcer is that lizard Raines breathing down my neck about finding Jarod, and then seeing my brother with a new Asian floozy," she spat out, her words like ice. "Have you had *any* contact with our Wonder Boy?" she asked while rubbing her forehead.
"No, I'm sorry. He hasn't called me in at least a month," Syd replied in his soothing Belgian voice. Parker's fingers on her right hand fluttered slightly; a sure sign that she was craving a cigarette.
"Broots, keep searching," she muttered as she left the room in the same manner in which she entered. Broots looked at Sydney before sharing a sympathetic smile.
"P.M.S.," they said in unison.
~*~
"So, Samuels killed her?" Marisa asked, slightly skeptical. Jarod swallowed his spoonful of ice cream while nodding.
"Yes. I know, he looks as if he couldn't hurt a fly. The thing is, he's been sexually harassing her for months. She even went out on a few dates just to appease him. He wanted more, and she wouldn't give it to him. So, he killed her. But not before having his way with her."
Marisa took in a breath. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story.
"He cornered her in her own apartment, and drugged her just enough to make her complacent. Then, he raped her, but not violently. After he was finished, she was coming out of it. So, he drugged her enough to kill her, and he fled the scene."
"Where do I come in?" she asked, a slight tremor to her voice. A light entered Jarod's eyes as he began to explain his plan.
"He needs to feel belittled, like he's nothing, with nowhere to go. Trapped." He smiled devilishly. Even though Marisa felt utter fear at the mere thought of the plan, she put up a brave front.
"Anything for Señor Jarod," she whispered, and raised her glass of champagne. As he raised his soda glass and they toasted, Marisa wondered what she had gotten herself into.
~*~
One Week Later
"What's the matter, John?" Marisa asked in the most playfully seductive voice she could manage. "Does your drink not agree with you?" She smirked almost evilly. Vice Principal John Samuels' eyes conveyed utter horror when he realized what must have happened.
"You--you've spiked my drink," he gasped as he slowly lost feeling. Soon, he couldn't move, but he was completely aware of everything that was going on.
"You see," she murmured, "you killed a fellow teacher. We just couldn't let that go by unpunished. It would make me sad," she pouted. Then she broke into a laugh that scared even her. Samuels shook his head.
"No, I didn't do it. I swear," he whispered.
"Admit it!" Marisa shrieked, "You killed Miranda Michaels because she wouldn't put out! Isn't that right?" She produced a black whip, and cracked it at the carpet by his head. He yelled out in fear, but still denied his evil deeds. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Marisa knelt down and straddled his waist. "You should never lie to a woman with a whip," she whispered icily. She ran her manicured nails down his bare chest, then stood up again. She cracked the whip loudly in the air and said, "Now, tell me the truth, or I'm going to get really angry." Samuels was about hyperventilating at this time.
"Okay! I did it! I was so frustrated! I loved her so much, and she was a tease! She deserved to die, and I was the only one brave enough to kill her!"
"I thought so," came Jarod's deep rumble as he moved from his hiding place while clicking off a recorder.
"Keats!" cried out Samuels desperately, "save me from this lunatic!" Jarod walked closer, and then knelt down by his face.
"I don't think so, Mr. Samuels," he murmured, an evil look in his eye. "You have no right to say who dies and who doesn't. Yet, you took that responsibility on yourself. Now, you are the one who has to pay." Jarod then took another glass and a funnel into his hands. He shoved the funnel into Samuels' mouth and poured the contents of the glass down the tube. After gagging, the vice principal looked at Jarod in fear.
"No!" he cried out, "Please, don't do this!" Jarod and Marisa simply watched as he slowly fell unconscious. Then, Jarod took the tape out of the recorder and slid it into an envelope that had been previously prepared. Then he picked up the phone, and called 911. He gave the address and said someone had overdosed on sedatives. He was about to congratulate Marisa on a job well done when a shot rang in the air.
"Well, well, look at what we have here," murmured a cold voice. Jarod turned around and saw Miss Parker in the doorway, a smoking gun in her hand.
"Parker, please," he began, "let her go. Don't get her involved in this." He nodded his head toward Marisa while raising his hands. Parker's eyes darted between the two before she smirked.
"Oh, no. We've been looking for her, too. What luck, I get two prized possessions at the same time. Alison, dear, it's time for you to come home."
"I'm not Alison, I'm Marisa!" she spat, "I'm not your dear, and that hell is not my home!" Jarod looked between the two women, utterly confused.
"Oh, but it will be," Parker countered. Marisa let out a string of curses in Spanish. Parker understood every word, but she lowered her guard. Jarod took his chance and tackled her, knocking the gun from her hands. Marisa picked it up and trained on the other woman. Jarod stood up and grabbed Marisa by the hand.
"We need to hurry. Where Parker is, Sweepers aren't far behind." With that, the two escaped the apartment building and called a taxi.
Once in the safety of the car, Jarod turned to Marisa.
"You left a lot out of your story, didn't you?" he asked, panting. She looked out the window.
"Later," she croaked. Jarod watched her profile for a long time. Then he cradled the front of his face in his hand and sat in silence for the rest of the ride.
~*~
Marisa stared at the steam rising from her mug of hot chocolate. Jarod sat down in front of her and waited for her to begin. After a few minutes, she inhaled deeply.
"I haven't been completely honest with you," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the drink in her hands, "I had lived at the Center since I was three before my mother got me out. We lived for 7 years in peace. Then you came and helped out my family. Of course, the Centre followed your trail, and took me back. I stayed there until I was 19. Then, I escaped myself and went to college. I figured that only you knew how I felt, so I started searching for you. Then, I was--I. . ." she faltered slightly, "I was raped. Part of a string of rapes, actually, which sent you my way. Quite by accident, I assure you. I didn't recognize you at first. When I did, you left. I changed my name, so by the time the Centre got to us, they didn't know who I was. I graduated and caught up with you. Now, here we are."
Incredulously, Jarod asked, "Why do they want you so much?" Marisa shrugged.
"I don't know."
"What did they do to you?"
"I can't remember my first year there. But I remember it as one big game. The man that took care of me, he suggested that I look at my stay as one big game of Let's Play Pretend. As a child, that seems fun, you know? But, when I started getting older, the play got harder. A lot of it, I don't really remember. I think I've blocked most of it out. But I do remember that it was terrifying, and crying for Mami every night."
"Who was the man?" Marisa smiled then.
"When it was just me and him, and no cameras around, I called him Uncle Syd." Jarod made a fist and clenched his jaw. He was silent for a long time, so Marisa looked up shyly. When she saw his expression, she immediately sat up. "What's wrong, Jarod?"
"That. . ." he couldn't even finish. Jarod shook his head and started breathing furiously.
"Jarod," she murmured as she put down her mug and moved across the space between them. She gently placed her slender hand over his rough one. "Cálmate, Jarod, calma." She stroked his hand with the back of his fingers, waiting for him to relax. "What is the matter, amigo?"
"Sydney was my handler, as well," he managed after a long time. He looked up and met Marisa's eyes. "I just couldn't believe that he would do this to yet another innocent child," he whispered with betrayal lacing his voice.
"He was only doing his job, Jarod," she murmured soothingly. "I do not hold it against him. He was very fatherly to me. Never harsh. Always loving. Perhaps, he did learn from his past errors," she offered, raising her eyebrows. Jarod shook his head, almost unbelievingly.
"You were at the Centre at the same time I was, when you were younger. He didn't treat me that way."
"Jarod," she said lowly, moving a hand to capture his jaw and bring his gaze back to hers, "I'm a girl. And I was a second chance. He'd already set a pattern with you. Maybe he wanted to right that wrong with me. And, perhaps, he wanted to do better in raising me than he did Miss Parker, yes?" She comfortingly rubbed her thumb against his cheek. They looked into each other's eyes for a long, silent time.
"Maybe," he whispered in a choked voice. Marisa nodded and smiled kindly. She was about to move her hand away, when Jarod placed his on top of hers and kept them on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into her palm before doing the unthinkable.
Tears began flooding down his cheeks. He took a few shuddering breaths before a hoarse sob escaped his lips. Marisa scooted on the seat next to him, placed her other hand on his other cheek, and moved his head to her shoulder. Then she held him, rubbing his back in long strokes meant to soothe. His arms went tightly around her waist as sobs racked his frame.
After a long silent time, Jarod's arms relaxed. He sat back straight and peered into Marisa's eyes. He inhaled deeply before saying, "Thank you. I needed that." Then he cocked his head.
"What?"
"I've only just met you, and you have me weeping like a woman," he chuckled.
"Bah," she whispered while rolling her eyes and turning away. Jarod only laughed deeper. Marisa looked at him then. "It does my heart good to hear you laugh again," she murmured, her worry showing in her expressive green eyes. Jarod nodded.
"Me, too."
~*~
"Hey, Sis, how did your little weekend excursion go?" Lyle asked, slapping Parker on the back. She winced, then turned on him.
"He escaped, again. But this time, we'll catch him. And I found Alison, too. It'll be a double nab," she said confidently. Lyle masked his surprise by laughing and walking away.
Meanwhile, Parker turned and sought out Broots. She would have to work extra hard if she wanted to find the both of them. And work she would. Jarod *and* Alison would soon be returning.
By Samantha
Part 1
~*~
Author's Note: Dude! I just totally realized that I left out a disclaimer. So, I'm going to add a blanket disclaimer to this one, and it will go for the rest of the series. Oh, p.s., thanks to my reviewer. Notice, the single usage. Please review if you read. I'd like to see what you think about this story. Thanks!
Disclaimer: The Pretender is not mine, although I sincerely wish it were in my hands, because then we would have some freaking closure! Anywho, the poem Ozymandius was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley a long, long time ago. I don't own that either, though I wish that I would have thought of it. . .but that's probably impossible.
~*~
Marisa sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring down her cheeks. She shivered as she gathered her quilt to her body, desperately wanting to find some warmth. The nightmares were getting worse. Just being this close to Jarod brought back traumatizing memories of her rape.
She knew that it was all in the past, and the rapist was put away. But the thought was still as terrible as the day it took place. She looked at the clock and sighed when she saw that the red digital numbers read 3:27.
Marisa wrapped the quilt around her as she got out of bed and walked toward her kitchen. After she started her coffee maker, she leaned against the counter and stared blankly out the window. Snatches of the dream floated back into her mind.
She was suddenly jerked out of her trance when she felt something snake around her ankles. She looked down and saw Esperanza, her cat looking up at her with large green eyes.
"Peri," Marisa murmured her nickname with a slight scolding tone as she picked up the jet black cat. She petted the cat's downy fur in long, soothing strokes. "¿Qué está pasando, gatita?" she asked huskily in her native tongue. "Eh?" She smiled softly to herself as the fear and worry began to melt away.
~*~
Jarod had searched forever for the picture, but he couldn't find it in the directory. In frustration, he ransacked his room, looking for anything about the mysterious woman who seemed extremely familiar. After a few hours, he came across a piece of paper that was recently dated. He looked it over and found that it was a memo introducing the new staff members. Jarod's name was there, as were two other men. And then there was only one female listed: Marisa Walker.
It was a long shot, but he figured it was worth it. Jarod booted up his computer and in no time was on the Internet and hacking into the school's personnel files. After a few moments, he found her. He clicked on the link under her name, and an enlarged picture appeared on the screen.
The first thing he found himself looking into was a pair of huge hunter green eyes. Even though it was a hastily taken picture, the camera had captured a haunting past of pain that lingered in her eyes. Then Jarod took in her silky shoulder length black hair. Next was her nose, small and slightly upturned. Her mouth naturally fell into a slight pout, making her seem like a child. But her facial structure said otherwise. Her face was an oval shape, and she had high, defined cheekbones. Her skin was a rich tan color, and without blemish. Except for one thin, silver scar along her left cheek.
After getting over her breathtaking beauty, Jarod studied her face more closely, trying to remember anything that he could. After a long time, he gave up. It was somewhere in the dark recesses of his information warehouse, but he couldn't quite find it.
He looked to the clock. It read 4:45. Jarod rubbed his eyes as he moved to make a pot of extra dark coffee. There would be no sleep for him this night.
~*~
Marisa smiled as her last class filed out of the room.
"Adios, Señorita," some called out as they passed through the door. She shook her head to herself. Her original career goal had never been teaching, but she found that she liked it. Especially teaching others her native language.
She turned her attention to erasing the white dry erase board, so she didn't notice when he walked in.
"Your students think the world of you," Jarod rumbled, leaning against the door frame. Marisa jumped slightly, put the eraser down, and then turned to face him.
"The same could be said of you, Señor Keats," she said with a nervous smile on her face. The two stood in an uncomfortable silence, measuring each other up. Jarod cracked first.
"Who are you?" he asked, genuine confusion on his face. Marisa looked down before answering.
"Marisa Walker, Spanish teacher," she whispered, still looking at her feet, "But I used to be Alison Douglas." She didn't look up, letting the information sink in.
"Alison. . ." he whispered, "Alison?" Jarod moved forward and gently took ahold of her shoulders. "*That* Alison Douglas?" She looked into his eyes and nodded. He let go of her shoulders and rubbed his chin.
"They always say third time's a charm," she offered weakly. Jarod shifted his feet and then looked back at her.
"You followed me." It wasn't a question. Every instinct told Marisa to look away. Instead, she stood her ground and held his gaze.
"I had to thank you. You left the college without a trace. I just now got ahold of your trail." Jarod shook his head. "Please, don't be angry. You've appeared in my life twice. That, alone, must mean something. I needed to thank you. To get closure." Marisa swallowed. Jarod stood silent for a long time.
"I understand, Al--Marisa. Why did you change your name?"
"I'm a different person than I was before. . .it. . . happened. It just seemed right." Jarod nodded. "Thank you, Señor Jarod," she murmured, reverting to the nickname she had given him six years ago, "Thank you for everything." Her lower lip trembled as she turned to finish erasing the board.
Jarod stood in the same place for a few brief moments, watching her at work. Then an idea popped into his head. He asked with a light tone, "Would you be willing to give me a hand?" Marisa paused before continuing with her task.
"What did you have in mind?" she countered, her back still to him.
"Well, the previous Brit Lit teacher didn't kill herself." Marisa put down the eraser once more as she turned to face him, an inquisitive look on her face urging him to continue. Jarod looked around briefly.
"We shouldn't do this here. Up for dinner?"
~*~
Miss Parker stormed into her office, rage written all over her face.
"Where is he?!" she bellowed, frustration getting the better of her. Broots, the poor man, had been about to take a sip of a fresh cup of coffee when she'd violently entered the room, and ended up with the scalding liquid all down his front. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex box and began swiping the tissues at his horrendously loud Hawaiian shirt.
"I-I don't know, Miss Parker. There isn't a trace of him anywhere, that I can find." Parker bent over and beckoned him with her finger to move closer. Broots put the Kleenex down and sat forward in his seat.
"FIND HIM!" she shouted, causing the techie to jump once more.
"Now, Parker, that behavior definitely isn't good for your ulcer," mused Sydney as he walked into the office with a newspaper folded under one arm and a Styrofoam cup in the other. Parker's nostril's flared as she stood up to address him.
"When I want your opinion, Freud, I'll tell it to you. What's not good for my ulcer is that lizard Raines breathing down my neck about finding Jarod, and then seeing my brother with a new Asian floozy," she spat out, her words like ice. "Have you had *any* contact with our Wonder Boy?" she asked while rubbing her forehead.
"No, I'm sorry. He hasn't called me in at least a month," Syd replied in his soothing Belgian voice. Parker's fingers on her right hand fluttered slightly; a sure sign that she was craving a cigarette.
"Broots, keep searching," she muttered as she left the room in the same manner in which she entered. Broots looked at Sydney before sharing a sympathetic smile.
"P.M.S.," they said in unison.
~*~
"So, Samuels killed her?" Marisa asked, slightly skeptical. Jarod swallowed his spoonful of ice cream while nodding.
"Yes. I know, he looks as if he couldn't hurt a fly. The thing is, he's been sexually harassing her for months. She even went out on a few dates just to appease him. He wanted more, and she wouldn't give it to him. So, he killed her. But not before having his way with her."
Marisa took in a breath. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story.
"He cornered her in her own apartment, and drugged her just enough to make her complacent. Then, he raped her, but not violently. After he was finished, she was coming out of it. So, he drugged her enough to kill her, and he fled the scene."
"Where do I come in?" she asked, a slight tremor to her voice. A light entered Jarod's eyes as he began to explain his plan.
"He needs to feel belittled, like he's nothing, with nowhere to go. Trapped." He smiled devilishly. Even though Marisa felt utter fear at the mere thought of the plan, she put up a brave front.
"Anything for Señor Jarod," she whispered, and raised her glass of champagne. As he raised his soda glass and they toasted, Marisa wondered what she had gotten herself into.
~*~
One Week Later
"What's the matter, John?" Marisa asked in the most playfully seductive voice she could manage. "Does your drink not agree with you?" She smirked almost evilly. Vice Principal John Samuels' eyes conveyed utter horror when he realized what must have happened.
"You--you've spiked my drink," he gasped as he slowly lost feeling. Soon, he couldn't move, but he was completely aware of everything that was going on.
"You see," she murmured, "you killed a fellow teacher. We just couldn't let that go by unpunished. It would make me sad," she pouted. Then she broke into a laugh that scared even her. Samuels shook his head.
"No, I didn't do it. I swear," he whispered.
"Admit it!" Marisa shrieked, "You killed Miranda Michaels because she wouldn't put out! Isn't that right?" She produced a black whip, and cracked it at the carpet by his head. He yelled out in fear, but still denied his evil deeds. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Marisa knelt down and straddled his waist. "You should never lie to a woman with a whip," she whispered icily. She ran her manicured nails down his bare chest, then stood up again. She cracked the whip loudly in the air and said, "Now, tell me the truth, or I'm going to get really angry." Samuels was about hyperventilating at this time.
"Okay! I did it! I was so frustrated! I loved her so much, and she was a tease! She deserved to die, and I was the only one brave enough to kill her!"
"I thought so," came Jarod's deep rumble as he moved from his hiding place while clicking off a recorder.
"Keats!" cried out Samuels desperately, "save me from this lunatic!" Jarod walked closer, and then knelt down by his face.
"I don't think so, Mr. Samuels," he murmured, an evil look in his eye. "You have no right to say who dies and who doesn't. Yet, you took that responsibility on yourself. Now, you are the one who has to pay." Jarod then took another glass and a funnel into his hands. He shoved the funnel into Samuels' mouth and poured the contents of the glass down the tube. After gagging, the vice principal looked at Jarod in fear.
"No!" he cried out, "Please, don't do this!" Jarod and Marisa simply watched as he slowly fell unconscious. Then, Jarod took the tape out of the recorder and slid it into an envelope that had been previously prepared. Then he picked up the phone, and called 911. He gave the address and said someone had overdosed on sedatives. He was about to congratulate Marisa on a job well done when a shot rang in the air.
"Well, well, look at what we have here," murmured a cold voice. Jarod turned around and saw Miss Parker in the doorway, a smoking gun in her hand.
"Parker, please," he began, "let her go. Don't get her involved in this." He nodded his head toward Marisa while raising his hands. Parker's eyes darted between the two before she smirked.
"Oh, no. We've been looking for her, too. What luck, I get two prized possessions at the same time. Alison, dear, it's time for you to come home."
"I'm not Alison, I'm Marisa!" she spat, "I'm not your dear, and that hell is not my home!" Jarod looked between the two women, utterly confused.
"Oh, but it will be," Parker countered. Marisa let out a string of curses in Spanish. Parker understood every word, but she lowered her guard. Jarod took his chance and tackled her, knocking the gun from her hands. Marisa picked it up and trained on the other woman. Jarod stood up and grabbed Marisa by the hand.
"We need to hurry. Where Parker is, Sweepers aren't far behind." With that, the two escaped the apartment building and called a taxi.
Once in the safety of the car, Jarod turned to Marisa.
"You left a lot out of your story, didn't you?" he asked, panting. She looked out the window.
"Later," she croaked. Jarod watched her profile for a long time. Then he cradled the front of his face in his hand and sat in silence for the rest of the ride.
~*~
Marisa stared at the steam rising from her mug of hot chocolate. Jarod sat down in front of her and waited for her to begin. After a few minutes, she inhaled deeply.
"I haven't been completely honest with you," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the drink in her hands, "I had lived at the Center since I was three before my mother got me out. We lived for 7 years in peace. Then you came and helped out my family. Of course, the Centre followed your trail, and took me back. I stayed there until I was 19. Then, I escaped myself and went to college. I figured that only you knew how I felt, so I started searching for you. Then, I was--I. . ." she faltered slightly, "I was raped. Part of a string of rapes, actually, which sent you my way. Quite by accident, I assure you. I didn't recognize you at first. When I did, you left. I changed my name, so by the time the Centre got to us, they didn't know who I was. I graduated and caught up with you. Now, here we are."
Incredulously, Jarod asked, "Why do they want you so much?" Marisa shrugged.
"I don't know."
"What did they do to you?"
"I can't remember my first year there. But I remember it as one big game. The man that took care of me, he suggested that I look at my stay as one big game of Let's Play Pretend. As a child, that seems fun, you know? But, when I started getting older, the play got harder. A lot of it, I don't really remember. I think I've blocked most of it out. But I do remember that it was terrifying, and crying for Mami every night."
"Who was the man?" Marisa smiled then.
"When it was just me and him, and no cameras around, I called him Uncle Syd." Jarod made a fist and clenched his jaw. He was silent for a long time, so Marisa looked up shyly. When she saw his expression, she immediately sat up. "What's wrong, Jarod?"
"That. . ." he couldn't even finish. Jarod shook his head and started breathing furiously.
"Jarod," she murmured as she put down her mug and moved across the space between them. She gently placed her slender hand over his rough one. "Cálmate, Jarod, calma." She stroked his hand with the back of his fingers, waiting for him to relax. "What is the matter, amigo?"
"Sydney was my handler, as well," he managed after a long time. He looked up and met Marisa's eyes. "I just couldn't believe that he would do this to yet another innocent child," he whispered with betrayal lacing his voice.
"He was only doing his job, Jarod," she murmured soothingly. "I do not hold it against him. He was very fatherly to me. Never harsh. Always loving. Perhaps, he did learn from his past errors," she offered, raising her eyebrows. Jarod shook his head, almost unbelievingly.
"You were at the Centre at the same time I was, when you were younger. He didn't treat me that way."
"Jarod," she said lowly, moving a hand to capture his jaw and bring his gaze back to hers, "I'm a girl. And I was a second chance. He'd already set a pattern with you. Maybe he wanted to right that wrong with me. And, perhaps, he wanted to do better in raising me than he did Miss Parker, yes?" She comfortingly rubbed her thumb against his cheek. They looked into each other's eyes for a long, silent time.
"Maybe," he whispered in a choked voice. Marisa nodded and smiled kindly. She was about to move her hand away, when Jarod placed his on top of hers and kept them on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into her palm before doing the unthinkable.
Tears began flooding down his cheeks. He took a few shuddering breaths before a hoarse sob escaped his lips. Marisa scooted on the seat next to him, placed her other hand on his other cheek, and moved his head to her shoulder. Then she held him, rubbing his back in long strokes meant to soothe. His arms went tightly around her waist as sobs racked his frame.
After a long silent time, Jarod's arms relaxed. He sat back straight and peered into Marisa's eyes. He inhaled deeply before saying, "Thank you. I needed that." Then he cocked his head.
"What?"
"I've only just met you, and you have me weeping like a woman," he chuckled.
"Bah," she whispered while rolling her eyes and turning away. Jarod only laughed deeper. Marisa looked at him then. "It does my heart good to hear you laugh again," she murmured, her worry showing in her expressive green eyes. Jarod nodded.
"Me, too."
~*~
"Hey, Sis, how did your little weekend excursion go?" Lyle asked, slapping Parker on the back. She winced, then turned on him.
"He escaped, again. But this time, we'll catch him. And I found Alison, too. It'll be a double nab," she said confidently. Lyle masked his surprise by laughing and walking away.
Meanwhile, Parker turned and sought out Broots. She would have to work extra hard if she wanted to find the both of them. And work she would. Jarod *and* Alison would soon be returning.
