Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue.
My Immortal is another song by Evanescence. DH's are still owned by Sherrilyn Kenyon.
Synopsis: It's been two years since Parker shot Jarod. All she had left of him is the shell from the bullet she thinks killed him. Her only comfort? A bottle of whiskey.
My Immortal
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you'd cry I'd wiped away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
And you still have all of me
You used to captivate me by your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you'd cry I'd wiped away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
And you still have all of me
I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you'd cry I'd wiped away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
And you still have all of me
Chapter two
Two Years Later…
Idly, she fingered the shell lying on her desk. No middle of the night calls, no cryptic letters, no wild goose chases. No contact, sightings, or even a freaking blip on the radar. Where the hell was he?
Not even a body.
She picked up the bullet casing and wanted to cry. She could almost hear Sydney's voice in her head telling that she was drinking too much. She could also hear herself snubbing Sydney's fatherly advice time and again.
God, how she missed him.
How could Lyle have done it? Kill not only Sydney and Angelo, but their little brother as well? This time Parker couldn't help but allow the overwhelming pain to leak onto her cheeks. Ethan had been her last link to her mother. Now that she had better developed her inner sense, she could almost hear her mother's voice as Ethan had. Almost.
Why couldn't she let this go? It wasn't as if her brother hadn't broken down right after Jarod had leapt from his window, telling her what he'd been ordered to do. Why? Parker couldn't begin to guess and Lyle hadn't been privy to the information anyway. All he had known was the orders had come directly from the Triumvirate. This wasn't another of the Centre's dark secrets she obsessed over uncovering. Jarod was gone. Sydney and Ethan were gone as well.
So why in her dreams did she constantly see Jarod begging for her to come find him? If she hadn't sworn she was going insane, she could almost sense Jarod's presence. It was like he needed her, wanted her to be a part of his life again.
But that was ridiculous. Jarod was dead. She had shot him herself. The shell slipped from her fingertips. Rolling across the desk and falling to the floor with a soft ping. She picked up the bottle once again and took a long draught from it, ignoring the familiar burn along the back of her throat.
She got up, unsteady on her feet, wrapped her robe more tightly around her gaunt body and tilted her head back, finishing off the bottle of whiskey. Numbness spread throughout her body, making her rock from side to side. She barely made it to her bed before she collapsed and fell into a drunken stupor.
The clock by her bedside table read 8:30 am.
New Orleans
Parker sat up, drenched in sweat and trembling, her head pounding from the hangover she got daily. She closed her eyes against the reality of her life and wished for the peaceful oblivion she drank to find.
The bout of nausea passed, she sat up and wondered what had pulled her from the coma-like sleep that usually lasted all day. She looked over at her bedside clock and grimaced at it. It was only noon. She ran a hand through her tangled, unwashed hair and thought about the woman she had once been.
Angry and vengeful, she had cared only about finding the answers to her questions. It didn't matter who she hurt in the process, because all she wanted was peace from the past. She had worn corporate power suits, three inch high heels, and a gun to hide from the world that she was still just the lonely little girl who had been devastated by her mother's death.
Though she had never allowed anyone to be especially close to her for fear they would leave her alone and hurt again, she had loved Sydney because he was the only man who had worried for her, he had protected her and motherhenned her. She had always rebuffed the older man's concern, but it had meant more to her than she ever let on, always afraid that if she allowed herself to show her true feelings for him, he would turn away from her like her father had.
Ethan had been like being with her mother all over again. There was something about his childlikeness that she had been drawn against her will at times, but still nonetheless had she found his innocence endearing. He was perhaps the only other person besides Jarod she had ever let into her heart. He was the last person her mother had touched before she died. She knew her mother would have wanted her to love and protect him since she couldn't be there to do it herself.
Then there was Jarod. From the very beginning the Centre had put them together for their own twisted reasons. Perhaps she had loved Jarod from the very beginning, or when she had whispered her name into his ear. Perhaps it was when they had kissed. Her heart would always belong to him. Regret twisted her; she could have run away with him as he'd wanted her to do so many times. They would have been happy together. But instead she had let her need for revenge rob her of the happy life her mother had died trying to ensure for her.
Now it was too late to tell any of them that she had truly loved them.
It was too much for her to bear; she curled up in a little ball and let the exhaustion overtake her.
New Orleans
She sat up again, wondering at the voice. She winced as a vision overtook her, so blindingly real, it scared her.
Jarod was prowling the streets, waiting for something. He needed her, though he didn't know it, but all the same his heart cried out for her to save him from the darkness that was consuming him.
The phone rang suddenly, causing her to start violently and the vision to disappear. She grabbed the phone angrily and rasped into the handset, "This had better be some kind of emergency, or someone's going to die!"
"You've been reactivated, Miss Parker," a voice whispered ominously into her ear, causing chills to erupt down her spine.
"Impossible, Jarod is dead and I have retired from the Centre," she scoffed.
There was a long pause, then "Jarod isn't dead Miss Parker. He's alive and living in New Orleans."
Stunned, Miss Parker put a hand over her mouth and breathed slowly to get a hold of herself. She was only having some sort of hallucination brought on by too much alcohol. "If this is a joke, it's pretty sick, so whoever you are-"
"This is no joke, Miss Parker. You've been reactivated to bring Jarod in. You will be briefed as soon as you arrive at the Centre. That is all."
Miss Parker opened her mouth to tell whoever it was to kiss her ass, but the line was dead.
She pulled the handset away from her head and stared at it, wondering if she was having a very bad and very vivid bad dream. Too bad Sydney wasn't there to tell her whether she had finally lost it. He would have known for certain.
Damn, she bit her lip to stop herself from crying and got off the bed. As much as she wanted to delude herself into thinking this was a bad dream, she knew better. She would never be free of the Centre until they found viable proof that Jarod was no longer alive. They had only allowed her an "extended" holiday while they tried to find him again.
Sighing in surrender, she got up from her rumpled bed and went to take a shower. No doubt a car would be sent for her equipped with sweepers that would be there to convince her to come along quietly with them if she needed it. She had no intention of walking into the Centre under anything less than her own control, dignity intact. It was still the one thing the Centre hadn't stripped her of.
Two hours later…
She stepped from the black sedan, and looked up at the building that was the embodiment of what had controlled her her entire life. It was still as awe inspiring and chill inducing as ever.
The sweepers, Sam among them, escorted her into the shadowed building. She avoided that elevator where her mother had faked her death out of habit and was taken to her father's old office. Bitter tears rose in her eyes as she thought of her father, who in his own way, had loved her. Just not nearly enough to leave her anything other than a legacy of pain and unhappiness.
Mr. Raines sat behind the desk, and she had to willfully keep the distaste from showing on her face as she remembered this man was her true father.
"Good afternoon, Miss Parker," he wheezed.
She merely raised one perfectly arched brow, not bothering to answer him.
He cleared his throat, stood as soon as the door to her right opened and her brother, Lyle walked into the office. He was not the same man he'd been two years ago. He didn't smile at her charmingly or try to insult her in that noxiously sweet tone he'd always used with her that had never failed to raise her hackles and make her want to throttle the man. He merely stood there silently, his eyes shadowed and as creepy as Mr. Raines' eyes had always been to her.
She took a deep breath, her ice queen façade slipping back into place, "Well, what a quaint family reunion this is," she sneered at the two men.
Raines seemed to ignore her sarcasm, "Jarod is not dead, Parker. You have been reactivated to capture him and bring him back to the Centre unharmed."
Parker crossed her arms and stared straight into Raines' eyes, "How can I be certain that however it is that was spotted in New Orleans is truly Jarod. After all, I shot him myself. Lyle shot him not four hours before that. No man, not even a genius pretender named Jarod, could survive those kinds of fatal wounds."
Lyle answered for his father, "We have no idea. All we know is that he was spotted and there can be no mistaking him for someone else." He turned to Raines' desk and picked up a blurred photo and handed it to Miss Parker, "It has been digitally enhanced, and as you can see, it has to be him."
Miss Parker looked over the photo. It was not a very good one, but there was no mistaking those eyes and that build. His hair was much longer now, but even the mole was still there. It was Jarod.
Her breath came in gasps and all she could do was stare at the picture of the man who had haunted her dreams for most of her life. She felt dizzy and as if the floor had suddenly dropped out from beneath her feet. She had thought he was dead!
Lyle's arms were there suddenly, supporting her and helping her to the couch against the wall. She sat and threw him a look that was halfway between grateful and angry. The photo trembled in her hands.
"Damn that son of a bitch, he's been alive all this time?" she hissed, as blessed numbing anger coursed through her body. "If I find him, I'm going to shoot both of his kneecaps and drag his ass kicking and screaming back to the Centre," she swore viciously.
"Calm down, Parker," her brother soothed her, there was something so lifeless about her brother now, it was eerie how empty his eyes looked now, "Remember, the orders are to bring him back unharmed," he reminded her.
"To hell with that," she scoffed, "Last time we thought he was dead, and look at the son of a bitch now? He's just waltzing around New Orleans as if he hadn't a care in the world. If I go after him, I bring him back my way, or not at all," she insisted.
Raines merely smiled in satisfaction at Lyle. Miss Parker was back.
