This is the Way the World Ends
By Bethe
~*~
Disclaimer: The characters of tP don't belong to me. I'm just using them as life-sized Barbies and Kens.
~*~
Jarod adjusted his identification tag on the lapel of his jacket and opened the doors in front of him. He purposefully strode into the building teeming with life.
"Agent Howard?" he asked after approaching a man clad similarly in black. The man turned around and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. And you are?"
"Special Agent Jarod Morris," he answered, extending his hand. Howard nodded, and put down the sandwich he was holding to shake Jarod's hand.
"Of course. Atlanta office?"
"Somewhere around there," he answered cryptically. "Care to fill me in? It's been a long flight." Jarod genuinely smiled. Howard nodded once more and picked his sandwich back up.
"Walk with me," he said. "Jerry Walters, age 35. Got on a whacked out trip. Shot himself right between the eyes. Really, it's open and shut, but Headquarters is hell-bent on fully investigating it. They're even sending a VCTF profiler." The two shared a look. "I think HQ is overreacting. But, as always, their word is final." Jarod nodded.
"So, where am I needed?" he asked.
~*~
Jarod went over the photos once more. Things just weren't adding up. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Morris, I'd like you to meet Agent Carlyle. She's the profiler for the case," Jarod heard behind him. He turned around and gasped. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Jarod swallowed before he could manage, "It feels that way." Standing before him, dressed in professional garb and holding a case file, was Miss Parker. Or, should he say, Miss Carlyle?
She extended her hand and raised her eyebrows as she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent. . .?"
"Morris. Jarod Morris," he filled in as he took her hand and shook it firmly. "What have you got?" Parker opened her manila folder and sifted through some papers before pulling out one.
"We think it's a serial killer whose calling card is drugging up his victims, then making it look like a suicide, or a drug-related homicide." Jarod raised his eyebrows skeptically.
"And what makes you think this case is linked with all the others?"
"Because the last murder took place exactly one month to the minute."
"Could be coincidence."
"And I could become the Queen of England," she retorted with a familiar sneer. "But that ain't happening anytime soon, honey," she added with a shake of her head.
"I'll admit," Jarod replied a bit forcefully, "that suicide doesn't seem likely, but serial murder victim? Come on, Carlyle. Bit of a stretch, isn't it?"
"Hey, you two," Agent Howard interrupted, "I suggest you guys gather up all of your facts before you get into a cat fight," he stated, making it a point to look each in the eyes before continuing. "Now, I'm going to take a break. You both had better be civil by the time I return. That's an order." With that, Howard left the conference room. Parker and Jarod just looked at each other for a few moments.
"They told me you were dead," he murmured distastefully, realizing he'd been lied to once again. His eyes searched for the nearest exit. "You've been close before," he said while edging toward the door, "But you've never been ahead of me."
"I'm not chasing you, Jarod," came her quiet reply. She looked at her feet. "To the Centre, I *am* dead. I got out, and they didn't want to lose you. So they told you I was dead, knowing that you wouldn't fully believe it. Knowing that you would think that they had me comatose and captive in some murky sublevel."
"Parker," he began, his eyes softening. She held her hand up to stop him.
"Look, it's either Melanie or Carlyle now. And we can't discuss this at the moment. Let's work on the case. Then you can come to my house for dinner. We'll talk then. Okay?" she asked, her face taking on a professional look. Jarod sighed, then nodded.
"Okay." Melanie Carlyle, for that's who she was now, smiled and dropped her folder on the table. She then walked around, slowly studying the various reports and evidences sheets, when she stopped at one.
"Jarod?" she asked, picking the paper up. He had been watching her since they had fallen silent, so he easily met her eyes. "Have you seen this yet?" Jarod walked over to her and took the sheet out of her hand.
"I must have missed it," he said while scanning its contents. "It seems that Jerry didn't have a habit. Odd, for a man who killed himself on a seemingly regular high," he commented.
"Exactly what I thought," Melanie replied.
"The real question is. . ." Jarod paused as they both looked to each other.
"Whodunit?" they asked quietly in unison.
By Bethe
~*~
Disclaimer: The characters of tP don't belong to me. I'm just using them as life-sized Barbies and Kens.
~*~
Jarod adjusted his identification tag on the lapel of his jacket and opened the doors in front of him. He purposefully strode into the building teeming with life.
"Agent Howard?" he asked after approaching a man clad similarly in black. The man turned around and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. And you are?"
"Special Agent Jarod Morris," he answered, extending his hand. Howard nodded, and put down the sandwich he was holding to shake Jarod's hand.
"Of course. Atlanta office?"
"Somewhere around there," he answered cryptically. "Care to fill me in? It's been a long flight." Jarod genuinely smiled. Howard nodded once more and picked his sandwich back up.
"Walk with me," he said. "Jerry Walters, age 35. Got on a whacked out trip. Shot himself right between the eyes. Really, it's open and shut, but Headquarters is hell-bent on fully investigating it. They're even sending a VCTF profiler." The two shared a look. "I think HQ is overreacting. But, as always, their word is final." Jarod nodded.
"So, where am I needed?" he asked.
~*~
Jarod went over the photos once more. Things just weren't adding up. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Morris, I'd like you to meet Agent Carlyle. She's the profiler for the case," Jarod heard behind him. He turned around and gasped. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Jarod swallowed before he could manage, "It feels that way." Standing before him, dressed in professional garb and holding a case file, was Miss Parker. Or, should he say, Miss Carlyle?
She extended her hand and raised her eyebrows as she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent. . .?"
"Morris. Jarod Morris," he filled in as he took her hand and shook it firmly. "What have you got?" Parker opened her manila folder and sifted through some papers before pulling out one.
"We think it's a serial killer whose calling card is drugging up his victims, then making it look like a suicide, or a drug-related homicide." Jarod raised his eyebrows skeptically.
"And what makes you think this case is linked with all the others?"
"Because the last murder took place exactly one month to the minute."
"Could be coincidence."
"And I could become the Queen of England," she retorted with a familiar sneer. "But that ain't happening anytime soon, honey," she added with a shake of her head.
"I'll admit," Jarod replied a bit forcefully, "that suicide doesn't seem likely, but serial murder victim? Come on, Carlyle. Bit of a stretch, isn't it?"
"Hey, you two," Agent Howard interrupted, "I suggest you guys gather up all of your facts before you get into a cat fight," he stated, making it a point to look each in the eyes before continuing. "Now, I'm going to take a break. You both had better be civil by the time I return. That's an order." With that, Howard left the conference room. Parker and Jarod just looked at each other for a few moments.
"They told me you were dead," he murmured distastefully, realizing he'd been lied to once again. His eyes searched for the nearest exit. "You've been close before," he said while edging toward the door, "But you've never been ahead of me."
"I'm not chasing you, Jarod," came her quiet reply. She looked at her feet. "To the Centre, I *am* dead. I got out, and they didn't want to lose you. So they told you I was dead, knowing that you wouldn't fully believe it. Knowing that you would think that they had me comatose and captive in some murky sublevel."
"Parker," he began, his eyes softening. She held her hand up to stop him.
"Look, it's either Melanie or Carlyle now. And we can't discuss this at the moment. Let's work on the case. Then you can come to my house for dinner. We'll talk then. Okay?" she asked, her face taking on a professional look. Jarod sighed, then nodded.
"Okay." Melanie Carlyle, for that's who she was now, smiled and dropped her folder on the table. She then walked around, slowly studying the various reports and evidences sheets, when she stopped at one.
"Jarod?" she asked, picking the paper up. He had been watching her since they had fallen silent, so he easily met her eyes. "Have you seen this yet?" Jarod walked over to her and took the sheet out of her hand.
"I must have missed it," he said while scanning its contents. "It seems that Jerry didn't have a habit. Odd, for a man who killed himself on a seemingly regular high," he commented.
"Exactly what I thought," Melanie replied.
"The real question is. . ." Jarod paused as they both looked to each other.
"Whodunit?" they asked quietly in unison.