Dimensions

Rating: Pg-13, I think. Can go up to R later due to vocabulary.

Disclaimer: I'm a art student. Do the math.

Summary: Just a bunch of faded memories.

A/N. Okay, people. This fic is a collection of missing scenes from DoPR. You don't need to read that but it would explain why J and MP are together in all the scenes to be described hereafter (If you don't want to read the other one, MP and Jarod are sneaking around in that universe and that's pretty much all you have to accept). For those of you who are reading DoPR, think of this as a scrapbook or a photo album that examines the J/MP pre-capture "dynamic". Out of chronological order…Because chronology is so highly overrated. =)

Warning: Well, besides the fact that I have no grasp of the concept of time as a vector, ah, you might want to consider that this is both the cure for my writers block , and the outlet for all the mushiness and bitterness that have no place in DoPR. Just a heads up...

Feedback: Always a good thing.

April: the cruelest month.

It was blue outside.

Parker was leaning against the wall next to the second story window, and from her perspective everything looked… blue. Not the sky, God no, she wasn't that simple minded. It was everything else: the lampposts, the tress, the neighbors' high picket fence and the roof of their house. Much like in a picture viewed through a filtered glass, everything in the landscape before her kind of blended together, as if there were no real colors, only tonalities, hues and shades of the same single one. It depressed her infinitely but she couldn't stop looking, just like she couldn't seem to stop finding herself in these situations. Why did she keep coming back? Now, that was the real question. Was she getting anything out of these meetings, besides pure physical satisfaction? She paused a little: there was no easy answer to that. If she said yes, she was dead and if she said no, she was a whore. Of course, viewed from that angle, far better a living prostitute than a sappy corpse, but still…

Jarod was staring at her, she didn't need her inner sense to help her figure that out. He was probably sitting in the bed, back against the wall, sulking his eyes out over something he'd started. Ignoring the presence behind her, Parker took a step towards the window to get a more frontal view, but the wave of dry cold air that grazed her skin reminded her that she was actually naked. Spring was being a bitch to Hartford this year, with irregular freezing showers that didn't quite manage to inject some moist to the atmosphere; the air was frozen and felt dead, and of course, there was that damn blue light. Or maybe she needed to get her eyes checked out.

"What?" She got tired of the staring and finally turned around, only to find that she had been almost right about her companion's state, except his back was against the mattress and his head against the wall.

Jarod didn't answer the query, opting instead for adding the mad-yet-wounded look to his facial expression. Parker only raised her eyebrows in a meaningful gesture and glared at him before going back to her window gazing. 'God', she thought as she focused on a tree outside. 'We're both twelve'.

The pretender remained in the same position and staring at the same spot even after Parker had turned away from him. There, with his head uncomfortably supported by the wall, Jarod thought of the argument that had landed him on the unsatisfactory task of glaring at any given point of the room, while willing away the hours. Argument. Some part of his functional brain smiled at his choice of words. Granted, it hadn't been a fight; it had lacked the volume and ferocity necessaries to make that category. But argument sounded so…civilized. What do you call it when two scorpions sting each other? Nature? They had a poisonous nature then, because with just a few well chosen words, their silent peace agreement had shattered into separate states of bottled up anger. Over what? Nothing, everything, for all he knew they were mad at the weather, which by the way, had yet to make a decent appearance on this aging afternoon. Hartford felt a lot like a colorless picture at the moment: there was no sun in the sky, no clouds, no breeze coming in through the open window or moving the new leaves on the trees outside. It was a fitting state, he had to admit, for the smothering stillness that had recently settled upon the room. After all, Parker wasn't moving, he wasn't moving and he was also quite sure that he was forgetting to breathe at regular intervals. Looking intently at the female by the window, Jarod couldn't help but wonder if she had the same problem; if she too forgot to put oxygen in her lungs from time to time.

Fuck and run. There used to be a song that went like that, but for the love of everything holy Parker couldn't remember who the singer was. Whoever it was (a woman, she was sure it was a woman), had captured the right order of things in the title. And considering most of her clothes were scattered somewhere between the front door and the stairs, it was definitely time to do some running. Parker stepped away form the window and turned around to do a visual sweep of the room, carefully avoiding making eye contact with the man stretched on the bed. Her bra was there and she was fairly certain that her shirt was right outside. After picking up the discarded lingerie item, she wordlessly slipped out of the room to hunting for the rest of her wardrobe. At least she knew exactly were her car keys were.

Jarod didn't even look at his leaving companion, focused as he was on the ever shifting to-do list he carried around in his mind. This house was not abandoned, it was for rent: one of those furniture included deals that didn't require too many adjustments. Jarod had discovered the place as he was driving away form one of his latest pretends and once he'd seen the inside, he'd decided to give Parker a call, which right now didn't seem like a wise decision. 'As if…' Although in denial, the pretender was perfectly aware of the fact that calling Parker was a habit too hard to brake. Parker was a habit too hard to brake. Rolling around to lie on the vacant and now cold of side of the bed, Jarod was confronted with the unappealing notion of moving out, when he didn't really want to move at all. It all came down, he knew, to his recently blackened mood: that woman sure had a way of stirring up dark clouds inside his head.

A nap, he figured. A nap would be good. Raines probably didn't know it yet, but he'd paid one month's worth of rent. Along with the required deposits.

Downstairs, Parker's heels clicked on the wooden floors of the living area. Making sure her hair was in the right place, she stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind her. It didn't matter that she felt like a train had hit her in the head. She'd go meet her coworkers, look exactly the way she felt and with any luck she'd be in bed by ten; thus getting some down time before the ringing of her phone came to reiterate her 'pissed out of her skin' state of mind.

Why, she thought. Why did they keep coming back?

A/N2: I just realized I'm probably only making sense in my head. Am I? Because I'm writing more of these snippets so….should I post 'em? Should I not?