This is the Way the World Ends
By Bethe
~*~
Part Two
~*~
Jarod awoke sometime in the night. Or was it early morning? Well, it didn't matter. He was awake, whatever the time. He sat up in the unfamiliar bed and waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark. The fact that the moon was full only helped the matter. Then he heard it; the sound that had roused him from his light slumber.
He got out of bed and walked quietly into the hallway. When he'd reached Melanie's closed door, he stopped and listened. She cried out again, louder than the times previously. He could hear cries of, "No, don't! Stop, please?!" He knocked on the door.
"Parker?" he asked, concern in his tone. Suddenly, all was silent. Then, her door opened, revealing a bleary-eyed Melanie.
"I thought I told you not to call me that again," she mumbled, stifling a yawn. Jarod rolled his eyes.
"Sorry. Force of habit. I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone was hurting you," he replied. Melanie yawned once more before focusing her gaze at Jarod's eyes.
"Oh," she whispered as realization dawned in her eyes. "I was having a nightmare," she explained. "I don't even remember what it was about, just that it wasn't fun." Jarod raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?" Melanie raised her eyebrows and took on an innocent look.
"Yes, Father dearest. Scout's honor."
"Parker. . ."
"Jarod. . ."
The two were in a standoff, of sorts. Finally, she sighed and rolled her own eyes.
"Look, Jarod, I'm okay. Really. I'm the Ice Queen, remember?" she asked somewhat jokingly, not noticing the hurt look Jarod took on. "It'll take a lot more than one nightmare to melt me."
"Mel--"
"Goodnight, Jarod," she said a bit forcefully as she shut the door in his face.
~*~
Melanie sat down on her bed after her conversation with Jarod and held her head in her hands. Was it worth it to lie to him like this? Why did she even have to lie? She sighed as she realized that obsessing over this would cause her work to suffer. She regretfully climbed back under the covers. She glanced at the window, which was now open. Shivering, she turned her back on the window and let fearful tears slide down her cheeks.
~*~
"So, ladies, what have we found?" Agent Howard asked teasingly when he walked into the room. He stopped short when he'd had a good look at Melanie. "Carlyle, what the hell happened to your eye?" he asked, shocked. She simply smiled.
"Stupid me. I got up to go to the bathroom last night and decided to be miss big shot and tried to find the way in the dark. I ran right into the door. Bam!" She pointed to the bruise that had formed just above her right eye. "Hurts like hell, but that's what I get for foolish pride." She shrugged and smiled. Howard studied her face for a bit.
"Put some ice on that. That's an order." She nodded solemnly. "Now," he continued, "Back to business. What do we have so far on the Walters case?" Melanie looked to Jarod, indicating with a nod of her head that he could go first.
"It wasn't suicide. It was murder. We just don't know who, or why." Howard lowered his green eyes to the ground momentarily.
"Okay. To the scene of the crime, both of you. You'll have exclusive clearance. See what you can find." Melanie and Jarod nodded simultaneously. Then Howard stood up and walked to the door. Before walking through it, he turned back and looked at Melanie. "Watch out for these," he said, his facial expression completely serious, but his eyes were dancing.
"Yes, sir," she muttered sarcastically, one hand moving up to touch the bruise that was being poked fun at.
~*~
Jarod opened the door to the hotel room where Jerry Walters had been shot and walked in first. Everything had been left exactly as it was the night Walters had died, even down to the spilled cup of coffee on the desk. He suddenly heard a gasp and turned around. Melanie was frozen in the doorway, a lost look on her face.
Had he known, the moment she'd set foot in the room, she'd been transported to the night of the murder. Details were foggy and events happened joltingly, like some crucial parts of film had been cut and the strip had been crudely re-spliced.
As quickly as she had entered that night, she left it, emerging breathless. She looked to Jarod, who was cautiously watching her.
"What?" she snapped, unconsciously reverting to her Parkerisms.
"What did you see?" he asked. Her face relaxed as she quickly recounted what little she had seen. Really, they were things they had already known, only acted out. When she had finished, Jarod nodded. They both went to inspecting the room in silence. Every once in awhile, new little bits of evidence would pop up, but nothing really grabbed their attention.
After being in the room for hours, Jarod frowned and looked around once more. Then, he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. When he opened them again, he was Jerry Walters. In his mind, he ran through a few possible scenarios, but they came up short. Nothing was making sense. Then an idea popped into his head. He simmed it, and everything started to click.
Melanie was sort of doing the same thing. She took all the information they'd had prior to examining the room, and then all the new evidence and started to put them all together. This killer liked the fear and the twisted respect that murdering rewarded him. And yes, she was sure that it was a "he". But there were no signs whatsoever of a struggle for entry. In fact, one would never even guess that two people had been in the room, with the exception of the footprints. The coffee that had been spilled had congealed somewhat on the floor, but not before it was stepped on by two very different feet wearing different shoes. One print was a tennis shoe; Jerry's print. The other was made by a heavy boot.
Melanie tried to work through the situation in her head, but only dead ends popped up. The same idea that Jarod had popped into her mind at the same time, and she ran it through.
"They were friends," they said simultaneously while looking at each other.
~*~
After they had discovered that bit of information, things fell into place. The case wasn't solved, by any means. But they were closer. After much hassling by Howard, they were dismissed. A weary pair commuted back to Melanie's home and then collapsed in the den.
"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, looking at nothing in particular. Jarod, who had the same look on his face, shrugged.
"I dunno, what do you want for dinner?" he asked monotonously.
"I don't care."
"Me neither."
"Chinese?" she asked, closing her eyes.
"Too Asian," Jarod replied.
"Italian?"
"Had it last night."
"Mexican?"
"Nah, upsets me." Melanie turned and looked at Jarod.
"How 'bout Ben and Jerry's?" she asked, resorting to the one thing she swore she'd never eat for dinner. Jarod, in return, looked at her.
"Phish Food?" he asked, his tone that of a hopeful little boy. Melanie couldn't help but smile.
"Whatever you want, Jarod. It's yours." His grin lit up his face, causing a pang of nostalgia in Mel's chest. "C'mon," she said after a sigh, nodding her head towards the door. "Let's go to Wally World."
"Wally. . .world?"
"Crap. Later. I'll explain later. Let's just go before we fall asleep on the furniture." Jarod got up first and Mel followed. During the drive to Wal-Mart, she explained the finer details about the phenomenon that was Wally World. He'd just about grasped the concept when they arrived. Right after they walked in the doors, it was like a kid going to F.A.O. Schwarz for the first time in his life. Jarod's eyes lit up and they went from aisle to aisle, exploring virtually the entire store. It was amazing to her that Jarod could have spent so much time in that hellhole called the Centre, and then all those years being chased by some very frightening people, not to mention attempting to find his long-lost family, and yet still possess that child-like innocence that distinguished him from the rest.
After making their way throughout the store, the misfit pair bought their ice cream and found a vacant table. They shared small talk and chit-chat while consuming the sugary goodness of Ben and Jerry's. An hour later, Melanie yawned for the eighth consecutive time. Jarod's comfort instinct kicked in then.
"C'mon, Mel. I'll drive back. You look wore out." She merely nodded as they got up. After properly disposing of the empty ice cream containers, Jarod led the way out to the car, opened her door, then got in the driver's seat before they were off.
Within minutes, Melanie had fallen asleep. Jarod didn't notice, however, until a turn that he took caused her head to roll onto his shoulder. The movement caused her to stir slightly. A soft noise escaped her throat as she snuggled her head against his shoulder and hugged his free arm loosely.
Jarod sat very still for a few moments, then looked down at her. She looked so peaceful. The bruise around her eye marred that appearance, though. It didn't really matter. She was beautiful either way.
- Get yourself together, man, - he thought. He was here to do a job; nothing more. He looked at her again, and started to doubt himself. What if this was becoming more than a job, more than a friendship? What if it was becoming something far deeper? Would that be such a terrible thing?
"Well, Mel," he whispered, saying her name in a tone of voice that could only be called a caress, "would it?"
By Bethe
~*~
Part Two
~*~
Jarod awoke sometime in the night. Or was it early morning? Well, it didn't matter. He was awake, whatever the time. He sat up in the unfamiliar bed and waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark. The fact that the moon was full only helped the matter. Then he heard it; the sound that had roused him from his light slumber.
He got out of bed and walked quietly into the hallway. When he'd reached Melanie's closed door, he stopped and listened. She cried out again, louder than the times previously. He could hear cries of, "No, don't! Stop, please?!" He knocked on the door.
"Parker?" he asked, concern in his tone. Suddenly, all was silent. Then, her door opened, revealing a bleary-eyed Melanie.
"I thought I told you not to call me that again," she mumbled, stifling a yawn. Jarod rolled his eyes.
"Sorry. Force of habit. I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone was hurting you," he replied. Melanie yawned once more before focusing her gaze at Jarod's eyes.
"Oh," she whispered as realization dawned in her eyes. "I was having a nightmare," she explained. "I don't even remember what it was about, just that it wasn't fun." Jarod raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?" Melanie raised her eyebrows and took on an innocent look.
"Yes, Father dearest. Scout's honor."
"Parker. . ."
"Jarod. . ."
The two were in a standoff, of sorts. Finally, she sighed and rolled her own eyes.
"Look, Jarod, I'm okay. Really. I'm the Ice Queen, remember?" she asked somewhat jokingly, not noticing the hurt look Jarod took on. "It'll take a lot more than one nightmare to melt me."
"Mel--"
"Goodnight, Jarod," she said a bit forcefully as she shut the door in his face.
~*~
Melanie sat down on her bed after her conversation with Jarod and held her head in her hands. Was it worth it to lie to him like this? Why did she even have to lie? She sighed as she realized that obsessing over this would cause her work to suffer. She regretfully climbed back under the covers. She glanced at the window, which was now open. Shivering, she turned her back on the window and let fearful tears slide down her cheeks.
~*~
"So, ladies, what have we found?" Agent Howard asked teasingly when he walked into the room. He stopped short when he'd had a good look at Melanie. "Carlyle, what the hell happened to your eye?" he asked, shocked. She simply smiled.
"Stupid me. I got up to go to the bathroom last night and decided to be miss big shot and tried to find the way in the dark. I ran right into the door. Bam!" She pointed to the bruise that had formed just above her right eye. "Hurts like hell, but that's what I get for foolish pride." She shrugged and smiled. Howard studied her face for a bit.
"Put some ice on that. That's an order." She nodded solemnly. "Now," he continued, "Back to business. What do we have so far on the Walters case?" Melanie looked to Jarod, indicating with a nod of her head that he could go first.
"It wasn't suicide. It was murder. We just don't know who, or why." Howard lowered his green eyes to the ground momentarily.
"Okay. To the scene of the crime, both of you. You'll have exclusive clearance. See what you can find." Melanie and Jarod nodded simultaneously. Then Howard stood up and walked to the door. Before walking through it, he turned back and looked at Melanie. "Watch out for these," he said, his facial expression completely serious, but his eyes were dancing.
"Yes, sir," she muttered sarcastically, one hand moving up to touch the bruise that was being poked fun at.
~*~
Jarod opened the door to the hotel room where Jerry Walters had been shot and walked in first. Everything had been left exactly as it was the night Walters had died, even down to the spilled cup of coffee on the desk. He suddenly heard a gasp and turned around. Melanie was frozen in the doorway, a lost look on her face.
Had he known, the moment she'd set foot in the room, she'd been transported to the night of the murder. Details were foggy and events happened joltingly, like some crucial parts of film had been cut and the strip had been crudely re-spliced.
As quickly as she had entered that night, she left it, emerging breathless. She looked to Jarod, who was cautiously watching her.
"What?" she snapped, unconsciously reverting to her Parkerisms.
"What did you see?" he asked. Her face relaxed as she quickly recounted what little she had seen. Really, they were things they had already known, only acted out. When she had finished, Jarod nodded. They both went to inspecting the room in silence. Every once in awhile, new little bits of evidence would pop up, but nothing really grabbed their attention.
After being in the room for hours, Jarod frowned and looked around once more. Then, he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing. When he opened them again, he was Jerry Walters. In his mind, he ran through a few possible scenarios, but they came up short. Nothing was making sense. Then an idea popped into his head. He simmed it, and everything started to click.
Melanie was sort of doing the same thing. She took all the information they'd had prior to examining the room, and then all the new evidence and started to put them all together. This killer liked the fear and the twisted respect that murdering rewarded him. And yes, she was sure that it was a "he". But there were no signs whatsoever of a struggle for entry. In fact, one would never even guess that two people had been in the room, with the exception of the footprints. The coffee that had been spilled had congealed somewhat on the floor, but not before it was stepped on by two very different feet wearing different shoes. One print was a tennis shoe; Jerry's print. The other was made by a heavy boot.
Melanie tried to work through the situation in her head, but only dead ends popped up. The same idea that Jarod had popped into her mind at the same time, and she ran it through.
"They were friends," they said simultaneously while looking at each other.
~*~
After they had discovered that bit of information, things fell into place. The case wasn't solved, by any means. But they were closer. After much hassling by Howard, they were dismissed. A weary pair commuted back to Melanie's home and then collapsed in the den.
"What do you want for dinner?" she asked, looking at nothing in particular. Jarod, who had the same look on his face, shrugged.
"I dunno, what do you want for dinner?" he asked monotonously.
"I don't care."
"Me neither."
"Chinese?" she asked, closing her eyes.
"Too Asian," Jarod replied.
"Italian?"
"Had it last night."
"Mexican?"
"Nah, upsets me." Melanie turned and looked at Jarod.
"How 'bout Ben and Jerry's?" she asked, resorting to the one thing she swore she'd never eat for dinner. Jarod, in return, looked at her.
"Phish Food?" he asked, his tone that of a hopeful little boy. Melanie couldn't help but smile.
"Whatever you want, Jarod. It's yours." His grin lit up his face, causing a pang of nostalgia in Mel's chest. "C'mon," she said after a sigh, nodding her head towards the door. "Let's go to Wally World."
"Wally. . .world?"
"Crap. Later. I'll explain later. Let's just go before we fall asleep on the furniture." Jarod got up first and Mel followed. During the drive to Wal-Mart, she explained the finer details about the phenomenon that was Wally World. He'd just about grasped the concept when they arrived. Right after they walked in the doors, it was like a kid going to F.A.O. Schwarz for the first time in his life. Jarod's eyes lit up and they went from aisle to aisle, exploring virtually the entire store. It was amazing to her that Jarod could have spent so much time in that hellhole called the Centre, and then all those years being chased by some very frightening people, not to mention attempting to find his long-lost family, and yet still possess that child-like innocence that distinguished him from the rest.
After making their way throughout the store, the misfit pair bought their ice cream and found a vacant table. They shared small talk and chit-chat while consuming the sugary goodness of Ben and Jerry's. An hour later, Melanie yawned for the eighth consecutive time. Jarod's comfort instinct kicked in then.
"C'mon, Mel. I'll drive back. You look wore out." She merely nodded as they got up. After properly disposing of the empty ice cream containers, Jarod led the way out to the car, opened her door, then got in the driver's seat before they were off.
Within minutes, Melanie had fallen asleep. Jarod didn't notice, however, until a turn that he took caused her head to roll onto his shoulder. The movement caused her to stir slightly. A soft noise escaped her throat as she snuggled her head against his shoulder and hugged his free arm loosely.
Jarod sat very still for a few moments, then looked down at her. She looked so peaceful. The bruise around her eye marred that appearance, though. It didn't really matter. She was beautiful either way.
- Get yourself together, man, - he thought. He was here to do a job; nothing more. He looked at her again, and started to doubt himself. What if this was becoming more than a job, more than a friendship? What if it was becoming something far deeper? Would that be such a terrible thing?
"Well, Mel," he whispered, saying her name in a tone of voice that could only be called a caress, "would it?"