This is the Way the World Ends
By Bethe
~*~
Part One
~*~
Jarod reclined on the sofa in Melanie's den and looked around once more. It was an amazing house. Mid-sized and homey, it looked like nothing the Parker of old would have enjoyed.
The den itself was decorated in a series of blues and tans. The carpet was a creamy light brown burbur, and the walls were cobalt blue. The flaming wood in the rustic oak fireplace popped and cracked, giving the room a cozy atmosphere.
"Jarod?" came Melanie's voice from the kitchen, "Do you like lemon in your tea?" she asked amidst the soft clatter of cutlery. Jarod couldn't help but smile. The closest Miss Parker had come to cooking was take out. And now. . .this. He didn't quite know what to think.
"Uh, no. Plain tea is fine Mi-Melanie." He had to admit that seeing Parker as a profiler was quite an awakening. After getting past the initial shock, the two had scrutinized the evidence the best that two geniuses could. Still, they weren't able to get much farther than to establish that Jerry Walters didn't commit suicide. Finally, Agent Howard had dismissed them with orders to rest up for a long day of hard work.
"Dinner's ready," Melanie stated, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the den. Jarod got up from his spot on the couch and followed her into the dining room. He had been promised a tour later. And based upon his initial impressions of the first two rooms he'd seen, he couldn't wait.
Jarod sat down in front of a cobalt blue, heavy glass plate and a rich green bowl that was filled with a lush salad. The savory aroma drifting from the kitchen was tantalizing his senses, causing him to almost salivate in his anticipation. Out of nowhere, Melanie appeared at the table, setting down a huge casserole dish.
"Manicotti," she said a bit proudly as she produced a spoon and began to give Jarod a heaping portion.
"It looks and smells delicious," Jarod replied. Melanie raised an eyebrow.
"Don't let that fool you. The smell is just the air freshener I sprayed only moments ago to confuse you." The gleam in her eye and the smile that played upon her mouth showed that she was joking. Jarod simply rolled his eyes and stared down at the contents on his plate.
"I don't know where to start," he mused, looking back woman who was now sitting across from him. "The salad looks good, the manicotti looks good--"
"Don't forget about the garlic bread," she reminded him, pointing a finger at the tray between them. "I'd suggest having a bit of the salad first, then the manicotti and bread at the same time." Melanie shared one more smile before sticking her fork into her own salad.
"Mel," Jarod whispered after a few minutes of silence. She looked up at him and could tell what he was thinking. She slowed her chewing, then nodded. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth before beginning her story.
"You want to know how I came to be this way, right?" Jarod nodded. "Okay. Fair enough. It all started about two years ago, right when Daddy jumped off the plane. Remember?" She chuckled, then ducked her head. "Of course, you remember. I didn't want to end up in a power struggle with Lyle and Raines. Also, you had gotten me to thinking. . .about my future. I began to realize that a life at the Centre was no life at all. And they say I'm a genius?" she asked self-mockingly. "So, I started getting my act together. With Angelo's help, I gathered various tidbits about the Centre: memos, directives, assassination contracts, and the like. Some were almost worthless, and others were pretty hefty. I also put my estate in order, in case I was found out and taken care of before I had gotten away. At the same time, I was creating another personality for me. Identification, credit lines, spending habits, old haunts, even an apartment. When I had gathered enough information on the Centre and completely developed the persona of Melanie Carlyle, I simply didn't show up for work one day. Then the next. And then the next. At first, I didn't know if Raines assumed I was dead somewhere, or not, but that was the story he sold you. Later, via Angelo, I'd heard that Raines knew I was alive. But, he was using my 'memory' to keep your ties to the Centre." Jarod nodded again.
"I saw your grave, Mel," he whispered, his eyes haunted by the ghost of his mourning. "Sydney and I even went together one day, forsaking all the rules of the chase." He laughed mirthlessly. "Why haven't you been caught. It doesn't seem as if you've been running." Melanie looked him straight in the eyes.
"That's exactly the reason why I haven't been captured. I hid out in the open. I took a high profile job, made high profile friends. I made sure that I would definitely be missed if I were taken."
Jarod took a good, long look at his old friend and former huntress. She had definitely changed. She had dyed her hair a brilliant auburn. Anytime the light hit it, her head looked as if it were aflame. Her skin was slightly darker, as if she'd been out in the sun more often. She still had the "Miss Parker" attitude, yet it had been considerably toned down. She wasn't all hard lines and sharp edges; she was softer, gentler, and almost quirky.
"So," he continued after a long stretch of silence, "if you have all this dirt on the Centre, why haven't I heard anything about it?" he asked, skepticism tainting his tone. Melanie sat back and crossed her arms.
"The Centre isn't good enough to go out with a bang. Besides, that's just what they'd expect. When I had just gotten away, I started anonymously dropping mere inter-Centre memos; mild offenses. When my career as a profiler had become more established, I began to pass out evidence of greater importance. Just recently, Pakor was raided by the Feds. It should be appearing in the papers any day now." At the mention of Pakor, Jarod's face took on an odd expression.
"What about the boy? My father? Did you think about them when you started leaving clues around?"
"Jarod," she said, getting his attention, "I left any part about your family out of the information I've supplied. Any mention of you is a vague one: no names supplied. They're safe. Syd and Broots have already been exonerated; they were simply following orders. In time, I'll be able to give out this evidence in person. But that time is not now."
"So, you're really that patient?" he asked. "How long will it take?"
"I don't know at the moment, Jarod. But like I said earlier, the Centre doesn't deserve to go out like that. It's like the quote goes, 'This is the way the world ends; not with a bang, but a whimper."
~*~
"Why a profiler?" Jarod asked while he was putting a plate back in its proper cabinet. "I'm sure there are many other professions that would suit you." Melanie stopped scrubbing the bowl in her hands and stared blankly out the window for a few seconds.
"I don't know," she said finally with a shrug of her shoulders. "It came naturally to me, I guess."
"Does your work consume you?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, most times," she responded, resuming her bowl-scrubbing. "Getting into the mind of a murderer is so frighteningly easy," she whispered, a haunted look entering her eyes.
"I know how you feel," Jarod murmured. They were both silent for a stretch, each realizing that they shared more than they had previously thought. Then Jarod interrupted the silence by saying, "You have a beautiful home, Mel." She paused her dish-washing once more to look him in the eyes.
"Thanks, Jarod."
~*~
After the tour of the house, Jarod and Melanie were sitting in front of the fire, quietly sipping from mugs of hot cocoa. Melanie, keeping her gaze on the hypnotizing flames, said, "You can stay here as long as you like. The guest room is all ready." Then she looked at him. "I would enjoy having you."
She stood up and stretched before padding out of sight. Jarod could hear movement in the kitchen. He considered her offer, then decided to take her up on it. After they caught Jerry Walters' killer, they had some catching up to do.
"I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Jarod," she murmured sleepily from behind him before placing a quick, gentle kiss on the top of his head. He turned and watched her walk up the stairs to her room. He sighed before realizing that he should probably turn in as well. He had a long and psychologically taxing day ahead of him: he was going to enter the mind of a killer.
By Bethe
~*~
Part One
~*~
Jarod reclined on the sofa in Melanie's den and looked around once more. It was an amazing house. Mid-sized and homey, it looked like nothing the Parker of old would have enjoyed.
The den itself was decorated in a series of blues and tans. The carpet was a creamy light brown burbur, and the walls were cobalt blue. The flaming wood in the rustic oak fireplace popped and cracked, giving the room a cozy atmosphere.
"Jarod?" came Melanie's voice from the kitchen, "Do you like lemon in your tea?" she asked amidst the soft clatter of cutlery. Jarod couldn't help but smile. The closest Miss Parker had come to cooking was take out. And now. . .this. He didn't quite know what to think.
"Uh, no. Plain tea is fine Mi-Melanie." He had to admit that seeing Parker as a profiler was quite an awakening. After getting past the initial shock, the two had scrutinized the evidence the best that two geniuses could. Still, they weren't able to get much farther than to establish that Jerry Walters didn't commit suicide. Finally, Agent Howard had dismissed them with orders to rest up for a long day of hard work.
"Dinner's ready," Melanie stated, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the den. Jarod got up from his spot on the couch and followed her into the dining room. He had been promised a tour later. And based upon his initial impressions of the first two rooms he'd seen, he couldn't wait.
Jarod sat down in front of a cobalt blue, heavy glass plate and a rich green bowl that was filled with a lush salad. The savory aroma drifting from the kitchen was tantalizing his senses, causing him to almost salivate in his anticipation. Out of nowhere, Melanie appeared at the table, setting down a huge casserole dish.
"Manicotti," she said a bit proudly as she produced a spoon and began to give Jarod a heaping portion.
"It looks and smells delicious," Jarod replied. Melanie raised an eyebrow.
"Don't let that fool you. The smell is just the air freshener I sprayed only moments ago to confuse you." The gleam in her eye and the smile that played upon her mouth showed that she was joking. Jarod simply rolled his eyes and stared down at the contents on his plate.
"I don't know where to start," he mused, looking back woman who was now sitting across from him. "The salad looks good, the manicotti looks good--"
"Don't forget about the garlic bread," she reminded him, pointing a finger at the tray between them. "I'd suggest having a bit of the salad first, then the manicotti and bread at the same time." Melanie shared one more smile before sticking her fork into her own salad.
"Mel," Jarod whispered after a few minutes of silence. She looked up at him and could tell what he was thinking. She slowed her chewing, then nodded. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth before beginning her story.
"You want to know how I came to be this way, right?" Jarod nodded. "Okay. Fair enough. It all started about two years ago, right when Daddy jumped off the plane. Remember?" She chuckled, then ducked her head. "Of course, you remember. I didn't want to end up in a power struggle with Lyle and Raines. Also, you had gotten me to thinking. . .about my future. I began to realize that a life at the Centre was no life at all. And they say I'm a genius?" she asked self-mockingly. "So, I started getting my act together. With Angelo's help, I gathered various tidbits about the Centre: memos, directives, assassination contracts, and the like. Some were almost worthless, and others were pretty hefty. I also put my estate in order, in case I was found out and taken care of before I had gotten away. At the same time, I was creating another personality for me. Identification, credit lines, spending habits, old haunts, even an apartment. When I had gathered enough information on the Centre and completely developed the persona of Melanie Carlyle, I simply didn't show up for work one day. Then the next. And then the next. At first, I didn't know if Raines assumed I was dead somewhere, or not, but that was the story he sold you. Later, via Angelo, I'd heard that Raines knew I was alive. But, he was using my 'memory' to keep your ties to the Centre." Jarod nodded again.
"I saw your grave, Mel," he whispered, his eyes haunted by the ghost of his mourning. "Sydney and I even went together one day, forsaking all the rules of the chase." He laughed mirthlessly. "Why haven't you been caught. It doesn't seem as if you've been running." Melanie looked him straight in the eyes.
"That's exactly the reason why I haven't been captured. I hid out in the open. I took a high profile job, made high profile friends. I made sure that I would definitely be missed if I were taken."
Jarod took a good, long look at his old friend and former huntress. She had definitely changed. She had dyed her hair a brilliant auburn. Anytime the light hit it, her head looked as if it were aflame. Her skin was slightly darker, as if she'd been out in the sun more often. She still had the "Miss Parker" attitude, yet it had been considerably toned down. She wasn't all hard lines and sharp edges; she was softer, gentler, and almost quirky.
"So," he continued after a long stretch of silence, "if you have all this dirt on the Centre, why haven't I heard anything about it?" he asked, skepticism tainting his tone. Melanie sat back and crossed her arms.
"The Centre isn't good enough to go out with a bang. Besides, that's just what they'd expect. When I had just gotten away, I started anonymously dropping mere inter-Centre memos; mild offenses. When my career as a profiler had become more established, I began to pass out evidence of greater importance. Just recently, Pakor was raided by the Feds. It should be appearing in the papers any day now." At the mention of Pakor, Jarod's face took on an odd expression.
"What about the boy? My father? Did you think about them when you started leaving clues around?"
"Jarod," she said, getting his attention, "I left any part about your family out of the information I've supplied. Any mention of you is a vague one: no names supplied. They're safe. Syd and Broots have already been exonerated; they were simply following orders. In time, I'll be able to give out this evidence in person. But that time is not now."
"So, you're really that patient?" he asked. "How long will it take?"
"I don't know at the moment, Jarod. But like I said earlier, the Centre doesn't deserve to go out like that. It's like the quote goes, 'This is the way the world ends; not with a bang, but a whimper."
~*~
"Why a profiler?" Jarod asked while he was putting a plate back in its proper cabinet. "I'm sure there are many other professions that would suit you." Melanie stopped scrubbing the bowl in her hands and stared blankly out the window for a few seconds.
"I don't know," she said finally with a shrug of her shoulders. "It came naturally to me, I guess."
"Does your work consume you?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, most times," she responded, resuming her bowl-scrubbing. "Getting into the mind of a murderer is so frighteningly easy," she whispered, a haunted look entering her eyes.
"I know how you feel," Jarod murmured. They were both silent for a stretch, each realizing that they shared more than they had previously thought. Then Jarod interrupted the silence by saying, "You have a beautiful home, Mel." She paused her dish-washing once more to look him in the eyes.
"Thanks, Jarod."
~*~
After the tour of the house, Jarod and Melanie were sitting in front of the fire, quietly sipping from mugs of hot cocoa. Melanie, keeping her gaze on the hypnotizing flames, said, "You can stay here as long as you like. The guest room is all ready." Then she looked at him. "I would enjoy having you."
She stood up and stretched before padding out of sight. Jarod could hear movement in the kitchen. He considered her offer, then decided to take her up on it. After they caught Jerry Walters' killer, they had some catching up to do.
"I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Jarod," she murmured sleepily from behind him before placing a quick, gentle kiss on the top of his head. He turned and watched her walk up the stairs to her room. He sighed before realizing that he should probably turn in as well. He had a long and psychologically taxing day ahead of him: he was going to enter the mind of a killer.