Disclaimer and such: Check prelude.

AN. Oh, so we're all Lyle lovers, then. Good, I'm glad to be in such good company. =D Ranma8962, imag1ne and Ginger6, this chapter is for you. Thanks for never failing to review this story; it means a lot that you take the time. Lisa Brown, I hope you're still on board for this one and thanks for reading. Jerseyno12002, I'm glad you're enjoying this. Rem-Cycle, is nice to hear from you again, thanks.

If I may say so, this is one of my favorite chapters, not only because is the first one that I wrote, but because this whole fic spawned from one of the scenes depicted in here. Blame falls solely on Nelly Furtado's shoulders because I was listening to her song Try when I started concocting this stuff. Oh, and I hope you've been paying attention 'cause this chapter starts exactly where another one left off.

As always, thanks for reading.

Chapter seven

The Egyptian fluvial system.

"The mouth may lie, alright, but the face it makes nonetheless tells the truth."

- Friedrich Nietzsche.

"I love you"

"Don't. Say that". She nearly leaped from the bed as she spoke, giving the annoyance that colored her voice an almost violent physical expression. He ignored her reaction and carried on with his point.

"Why not, you know it's true".

"Jarod…" Her voice and glare reached him from next to the window. The warning in both was unmistakable.

"You don't have to return the sentiment Parker. I just figured I'd say it out loud"

"Don't. I don't want to hear it".

Parker moved quickly in the darkness, dressing as she gathered clothes, never sparing a glance at the man stretched dejectedly across the bed. She knew his eyes were following her every move and it only heightened her annoyance, making her jumpy and cranky. Why did he have to do this? Every time things were starting to appease, he had to turn around and throw her off kilter. But then, who was she kidding? The moment she'd started doing the pretender her whole universe had fallen off balance, if it ever had any. This was fun, in a terribly twisted way, but that was pretty much it. Unless she'd missed a memo, she was still chasing him, he was still running and for some insane reason, they were fucking in the interludes. She wanted to turn and tell him that, but the clasp of her bra wasn't cooperating.

Underwear and skirt already in place she tried to focus on the task of buttoning her blouse but somehow lost her grip. Finally locking eyes with the pretender, she raised her eyebrows in an unspoken request for speech that he refused to acknowledge. Jarod simply stared at her, as if her face held some ancient secret code that would answer all of his questions present and past. He looked lost, tired and aged, the latter a concept difficult to associate with the often childlike pretender. Lowering her head Parker realized her hands had never started moving and she was just standing there, observing him intently with the front of her silk blouse hanging open.

Something made her walk up to the bed. Something that wasn't powerful enough to convert her hard expression into something less hostile, but that pushed her into movement, nonetheless. Jarod had abandoned his previous position and was now sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor, eyes glued to her face with an unwavering studious look. Not wanting to back down, Parker advanced on him until her knees almost touched the sheet covering the mattress, and he had to tilt up his head to continue his stare.

"I don't want to hear it". It was impossible to escape the finality of her tone and Jarod knew this were her terms: either he took them or he was out. Brushing the silk of her blouse aside to set his hands on her hips and his lips on her stomach, the pretender figured there wasn't much of decision to make, so he tugged at her waist and continued to kiss her torso until her knees sank into the mattress. Soon, he could feel the familiar clawing running from the back of his neck toward the end of his shoulder and a set of lips gliding down the side of his jaw. As he found himself trapped between her body and the bed, the thought assaulted the pretender that they needed healthier ways to communicate with each other.

Parker wasn't paying attention to that kind of thing: it was still too early and she had yet some time left before she had to hop in her car and drive back to Blue Cove. She was once again getting rid of her bra when she managed to steal a glance at the window and saw the clear darkness of the fading moonlight outside. Yes, it was still too early.

…

The warm breeze of the summer night had been a stark but welcome contrast to the dry, carefully conditioned environment of her office. The Centre was a vacuum, Parker figured, and being in that building was like standing inside a sealed bag full of dust and stale air. She grimaced at her own analogy and tried to chase the grayness away form her thoughts, all to no avail. Sitting alone in her car under the happy glare of the Centre's night reflectors, Parker couldn't pretend that she felt like the dead: over the course of the past three days, sleep had completely eluded her, food had not agreed with her, and the effectiveness of her caffeine supply had shown a dramatic fall into the negative figures. To make matters worse, that T-board she had been submitted to had lasted for hours, and she had been forced to answer the same questions over and over until her inquisitors had reached satisfaction. Using the steering wheel for support, she relaxed for a second. At least it was over now and Jarod was officially no longer any of her business. Not only that, but after having her feats recognized by Triumvirate officials, Parker had become something of a celebrity. Even Bekele had been pleased with her performance and offered her a job; one that was, according to him, better suited for her strength and dedication. It had taken her every remaining ounce of will power not to snort in the face of the pompous Zulu, but she had managed quite nicely. Sydney would have been proud.

Sydney.

Sydney and Broots had been absent from her life for a week now. The last time she'd seen them, the psychiatrist had his nose glued to one of Jarod's red notebooks, the technician was going home to his daughter Debbie, and she was leaving to meet Jarod in the cabin near Seaford. When she'd returned with a still-drugged and shackled Jarod, She had seen Lyle walking towards Broots right before she was dragged away to the chairman's office. Later she'd found out her brother had made the techie bring Sydney and wait for him in his office, where he proceeded to give them to run-down of the new state of affairs at the Centre. Three days ago, Lyle hadn't known all the details but Parker was sure he'd filled all the blanks with his extensive imagination, heightening the gravity of her actions as much as he possibly could. Now Sydney wanted nothing else to do with her and in fact had had no qualms in saying it to her face. Broots on the other hand, had opted for avoiding her like she was Raines which meant she hadn't seen the techie once in the past three days. It was the quintessential Parker irony, that much was for sure: after all these years playing wicked witch to Jarod's Dorothy she was finally getting the treatment that came with the territory, and this time she hadn't even inflicted pain on the pretender… Not really… Not like that.

It doesn't matter. Lyle will do the job.

She shook her head to dismiss the thought and with another deep breath let herself hit the backrest of her seat. If she kept going down the same road her ulcer was going to wake up and pull a number, and she was already feeling too damn tired…If she could just catch a nap… No. She rubbed her face and straightened up, putting away the dangerous idea. First of all, falling asleep within the confines of the centre was neither healthy nor wise. A lot could be inferred from an employee's sleeping patterns (especially if it was the new employee of the month), and the last thing she needed at the moment was Raines or Lyle trying to mind her business. And second, there was still far too much to be done.

Oh, well, no rest for the wicked.

Parker started her car and drove away following the same roads she did when she went home every other night. As soon as she was sure that the Centre's sweepers were not bringing up her rear, she picked up her other cell phone and punched the second number on its speed dial. After a few tones, a familiar male voice picked up on the other end of the line.

"Hey, it's me…It's done, I just got cleared. I ah, should be able to travel within the next three days, so we're still on schedule… No, it was, perfect. Even Raines was helpful, how about that? ... No, but he's definitely up to something…Guess you're right. …Hmmm? .... Yeah, I just…I'm kinda tired. That board took forever. Listen, I should get going: My place is probably crawling with bugs and I'm almost there already….I'm fine and we're still on schedule. I'll talk to you in three days, alright? … I do. But if you need anything before then…Right. Ok, here I am…Thanks…You too. "

After turning off the ignition, Parker put the cell phone back in the bottom of her purse and steeped out of the car, already visualizing where her brother had planted the bugs this time. A memory from a forgotten conversation resurfaced and she found herself unable to withhold the snort that escaped her mouth.

Of all the sims in the world, I get to sim a sociopath.

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AN2: Eva, I know I get lost, but you're still my sister. ;-)