THE PRETENDER
"Unlikely Allies"
by the lurker
The fall air felt crisp in her lungs. It was early morning, and the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. The leaves crunched under her feet as she walked through the cemetery, and it reminded her of when she was a little girl. She didn't know what had called to her this particular morning, in the darkness of predawn; in the silence of the approaching fall. But she had heard it, and made sure that there was time to visit her mother's grave on her way to the Centre. As she approached the now-worn headstone, she could see the pristine bouquet of flowers which had been carefully laid beneath it. As unlikely as it seemed, her father must have come by, although she was fairly certain that today did not represent any particular occasion. Perhaps he had felt it too.
Parker knelt at the plot, gently placing a hand on the stone bearing her mother's name. She wondered what her mother would be like now, so many years later. Would her hair be white and her face wrinkled? She would never know, for Catherine Parker would eternally be 35 years old. Miss Parker closed her eyes, fighting off the stinging moisture in them. It didn't matter how many years passed, it hurt as much now as it did when she was ten years old, and there had been only Sydney for comfort. A rueful smile played across her lips: unless she was nursing a bottle of vodka late at night, Sydney was still her only comfort. Her eyes fell on the bouquet of white China Mums mixed with roses, lying at the base of the headstone. There was something oddly familiar about them, but it was just out of reach to her conscious mind. It was a curious remnant, and she realized, probably a silly ponderance - who else but her father would have placed them here? Parker ran a finger over the velvety petals of one white rose. She smiled; her mother would have liked them.
Parker stood, looked once more at the name engraved in the stone, and quietly left, trying to shut out the inner voice calling to her from within.
The Centre felt unusually cold to her as she walked down the hallway heading toward her office. She wrapped her arms around herself as she picked up her pace. For a moment, she thought she felt eyes on her, but there was no one else around. Parker shook her head; she was letting all of the clandestine intrigue that filled her life take over her rationality. She rounded a corner and realized she wasn't at her office. Parker shook her head in disgust - where was her mind today? The voice from behind made her start.
"Miss Parker?"
She turned to find Sydney smiling at her, and her irritation was evident.
"What are you doing here?"
One dark eyebrow raised in amusement, "Last time I checked, this was my office...."
She glared at him. "I meant what are you doing here at this hour?"
"One could ask the same of you, Miss Parker."
She growled under her breath and started out, Sydney's voice stopped her at the threshold. "Did you need something, Parker?"
She turned around, her eyes lit with fire. "No."
"Then why--"
"--Look, I was thinking while I was walking, and I ended up here, okay?"
"You don't find it odd that you wound up in my office and not yours?"
"Oh for God's sake; don't make something out of nothing, Dr. Doolittle, I simply wasn't paying attention."
While his eyebrows raised at the explanation, Sydney refrained from commenting further. Satisfied that it was a closed subject, Parker turned on her heel, heading for the door. He looked down at the floor, his eyes landing on Parker's shoes as she walked away. He was surprised to see mud around the edges of them, but then, he could surmise the reason. Sydney stood there for a moment, his mind ordering the facts to a long-awaited problem. He turned away and sat heavily in his desk chair; he was going to have to seek out a most unlikely ally.