Title: Pretend You Don't See Her
Author: T. C.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jarod/Miss Parker
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from the television
show The Pretender. They belong to Steven Long Mitchell,
Craig W. Van Sickle, and TNT.
Spoilers: Well, the show is in syndicated reruns and I haven't seen
the movies because I don't get TNT, so I won't be spoiling
anything there. This story takes place after the season
finale of season three, Donoterase, where Miss Parker gets
shot in the back and Jarod gets recaptured by the Centre.
***********************************************************************
Part One
"Welcome back to the Center, Jarod." The words barely registered in
Jarod's brain. He looked up. A splash of cloudless blue sky. Blonde
hair dancing merrily in the breeze. Cold smirks of victory. The
barrel of a nine millimeter. The images changed, shifting in and out
of focus like a demented kaleidoscope. Jarod closed his eyes and lay
his head back on the ground. Bridgette would shoot him if he tried to
escape again. Then he would never see his father. Why hadn't he
gone with them?
Jarod's eyes snapped open and he rolled quickly onto his side. What
Bridgette would do to him was the last thing on his mind. Mr. Parker
knelt on the hard asphalt, cradling his daughter. All Jarod could
see of Miss Parker was the long, silken strands of her dark hair
trailing on the pavement. Thrump. Thrump. Thrump. The noise of the
spinning chopper blades reverberated around him. He concentrated on
that, he needed something to anchor him in this reality. He really
didn't want to be here.
A hand on his arm jerked Jarod to his feet and he found himself
staring at a smug Mr. Lyle. "I can help her." Jarod tried to say it
calmly, dispassionately, like he only cared that it was a human life he
could save and not her specifically. But the anguish and naked
pleading showed in his eyes. Miss Parker was dying.
Lyle shrugged. "So can the doctors at the Center."
Jarod went straight for the throat. He let the rage consume him.
Become him. Lyle had never deserved life. He had proved that when he
had killed Kyle and he was proving it again now by so callously
dismissing his own sister's life. It took four sweepers to get Jarod
off of Lyle. The tight grip of the handcuffs bit into his skin as he
was pulled away and loaded into the helicopter.
*****
They let him watch. At first Jarod considered that a small comfort.
In his small, sterile cell that consisted of a cot and a stainless
steel sink, they had added a television. The monitor displayed a live
feed from the cameras in Miss Parker's room in the Center's infirmary.
The hated watchdogs of his youth were now a blessing. Jarod watched
as the surgeons fought to remove the bullet and repair the damage it
had wrought. He watched as Miss Parker was connected to a respirator,
heart monitor, and various tubes that would do the living for her while
she healed.
His meals were delivered unobtrusively at regular intervals. No one
bothered him. Jarod was too distracted to wonder why.
It happened on the third day at three in the morning. Mr. Parker sat
in the corner by the window. Despite Bridgette's tearful entreaties
and Mr. Lyle's smooth arguments, he had refused to leave his
daughter's room. Jarod would have felt sympathy for the man if all of
his concern and love hadn't come too late. Sydney sat beside Miss
Parker, his hand holding her limp one and his attention firmly fixed
on her wan face. That's where Jarod wanted to be, holding her hand
and begging her not to leave him. Tears were beginning to blur Jarod's
vision when he saw Sydney's head suddenly jerk up. He followed his
mentor's gaze to the heart monitor that faithfully read the beats of
her heart. A long, thin, green line.
"No!" Jarod shouted. He jumped up and placed his hands on the
television screen. He watched helplessly as the Center's doctors
raced in and battled with the machine's ominous readout. It didn't
change. A long, thin, green line.
Jarod smashed the television set when he saw Sydney start to cry.
*****
Bridgette stood in the doorway and surveyed the damage. Since
witnessing Miss Parker's death, Jarod had smashed the television set,
tore apart the cot's mattress, mangled the frame, and had even managed
to tear the sink from the wall. Water had mixed with the mattress
fluff, leaving a sodden mess. Jarod now sat in a corner facing the
wall. Bridgette whistled a few bars of "Ding, Dong, the Witch is
Dead" from the Wizard of Oz to announce her presence.
"Jarod," she commanded sharply when that didn't get a reaction from
him. He still didn't acknowledge her. Bridgette's lip curled in
distaste. Her husband had turned into a zombie, Sydney and Broots were
even more useless than usual, and even Mr. Lyle was subdued. And now
Jarod had shut down. All because the brunette bitch had bought the
farm! Bridgette couldn't understand what had inspired such an
outpouring of grief.
Jarod fingered the shard of glass that had once been part of the
television screen. When his eyes were open he saw the thin, green line
blazed across his field of vision. When his eyes were closed he saw
the bullet ripping through the white fabric of Miss Parker's coat. He
saw her stunned expression as she fell. Eyes open. Eyes closed. It
didn't matter, both were hell.
"Jarod." Bridgette's voice tried to penetrate his world once again.
"We're moving you to another room." He felt hands pick him up and haul
him to his feet. Jarod managed to hide his precious piece of glass
before it was seen. They turned him to face Bridgette. She wore a
tight fitting black suit. A slight smile crossed her face. "Sorry for
my clothes, I just got back from a funeral. Lovely day for a mother/
daughter reunion, don't you think?"
Jarod's only reply was a grief stricken moan. Unsatisfied with that
response, Bridgette waved them away.
Mr. Lyle entered the room once Jarod was led away. He rubbed lightly
at his bruised neck. "I hope you're not saying things like that to
my father."
"Of course not. I am the perfect, comforting wife. I even suggested
that we name our new bundle of joy Angel, after the dearly departed."
Bridgette smiled coyly and patted her belly. Her life was perfect.
The biggest obstacle to her plans had been eliminated and she hadn't
even gotten her hands bloody. "It looks like our suspicions were
correct all along. Jarod and Miss Parker did have an attachment. No
wonder she never caught him, it would have put an end to whatever they
had going on behind closed doors."
Lyle's face was an unreadable mask. "The state of this room only tells
us how Jarod feels. I doubt that my sister shared those feelings, let
alone acted upon them." There was a hard edge to Lyle's voice.
Bridgette was disappointed. She had thought he would share her glee
in the death of her rival, but instead he seemed almost sad. Like he
really cared that he had lost a sister.
"In any case, Jarod is of no use to us in the state he's in. We have
to snap him out of it."
"I agree, but that's your job, Bridgette. Mine is tracking down Major
Charles and retrieving the clone."
Bridgette took a lollipop out of her pocket and removed the wrapper.
She dropped into the messy cell and slipped the candy into her mouth.
"Business as usual. That is the Center's motto."
*****
Jarod's new "room" was even more spartan than the first. It contained
only a foam pallet in the corner. He sat cross-legged on it with
his back to the door and the cameras. He would not allow them to see
his grief.
The shard of glass bit into his hand, but Jarod barely registered the
pain. Miss Parker was dead. That was the only pain he could
acknowledge. Blood dripped from his closed palm.
"Ouch, that has to hurt. I never took you for the self abusive type,
Jarod," Miss Parker's smooth voice taunted him. Jarod looked behind
him, but there was no one in the room with him. But it had been her
voice. "What exactly are you planning on doing with that thing?" her
voice was more worried and less mocking now.
Jarod closed his eyes. "I don't know," he whispered. "I want to be
with you."
"There's only one problem with that plan. Using your sharp little
friend will make you dead and I'm not dead."
To be continued....
Author: T. C.
Rating: R
Pairing: Jarod/Miss Parker
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from the television
show The Pretender. They belong to Steven Long Mitchell,
Craig W. Van Sickle, and TNT.
Spoilers: Well, the show is in syndicated reruns and I haven't seen
the movies because I don't get TNT, so I won't be spoiling
anything there. This story takes place after the season
finale of season three, Donoterase, where Miss Parker gets
shot in the back and Jarod gets recaptured by the Centre.
***********************************************************************
Part One
"Welcome back to the Center, Jarod." The words barely registered in
Jarod's brain. He looked up. A splash of cloudless blue sky. Blonde
hair dancing merrily in the breeze. Cold smirks of victory. The
barrel of a nine millimeter. The images changed, shifting in and out
of focus like a demented kaleidoscope. Jarod closed his eyes and lay
his head back on the ground. Bridgette would shoot him if he tried to
escape again. Then he would never see his father. Why hadn't he
gone with them?
Jarod's eyes snapped open and he rolled quickly onto his side. What
Bridgette would do to him was the last thing on his mind. Mr. Parker
knelt on the hard asphalt, cradling his daughter. All Jarod could
see of Miss Parker was the long, silken strands of her dark hair
trailing on the pavement. Thrump. Thrump. Thrump. The noise of the
spinning chopper blades reverberated around him. He concentrated on
that, he needed something to anchor him in this reality. He really
didn't want to be here.
A hand on his arm jerked Jarod to his feet and he found himself
staring at a smug Mr. Lyle. "I can help her." Jarod tried to say it
calmly, dispassionately, like he only cared that it was a human life he
could save and not her specifically. But the anguish and naked
pleading showed in his eyes. Miss Parker was dying.
Lyle shrugged. "So can the doctors at the Center."
Jarod went straight for the throat. He let the rage consume him.
Become him. Lyle had never deserved life. He had proved that when he
had killed Kyle and he was proving it again now by so callously
dismissing his own sister's life. It took four sweepers to get Jarod
off of Lyle. The tight grip of the handcuffs bit into his skin as he
was pulled away and loaded into the helicopter.
*****
They let him watch. At first Jarod considered that a small comfort.
In his small, sterile cell that consisted of a cot and a stainless
steel sink, they had added a television. The monitor displayed a live
feed from the cameras in Miss Parker's room in the Center's infirmary.
The hated watchdogs of his youth were now a blessing. Jarod watched
as the surgeons fought to remove the bullet and repair the damage it
had wrought. He watched as Miss Parker was connected to a respirator,
heart monitor, and various tubes that would do the living for her while
she healed.
His meals were delivered unobtrusively at regular intervals. No one
bothered him. Jarod was too distracted to wonder why.
It happened on the third day at three in the morning. Mr. Parker sat
in the corner by the window. Despite Bridgette's tearful entreaties
and Mr. Lyle's smooth arguments, he had refused to leave his
daughter's room. Jarod would have felt sympathy for the man if all of
his concern and love hadn't come too late. Sydney sat beside Miss
Parker, his hand holding her limp one and his attention firmly fixed
on her wan face. That's where Jarod wanted to be, holding her hand
and begging her not to leave him. Tears were beginning to blur Jarod's
vision when he saw Sydney's head suddenly jerk up. He followed his
mentor's gaze to the heart monitor that faithfully read the beats of
her heart. A long, thin, green line.
"No!" Jarod shouted. He jumped up and placed his hands on the
television screen. He watched helplessly as the Center's doctors
raced in and battled with the machine's ominous readout. It didn't
change. A long, thin, green line.
Jarod smashed the television set when he saw Sydney start to cry.
*****
Bridgette stood in the doorway and surveyed the damage. Since
witnessing Miss Parker's death, Jarod had smashed the television set,
tore apart the cot's mattress, mangled the frame, and had even managed
to tear the sink from the wall. Water had mixed with the mattress
fluff, leaving a sodden mess. Jarod now sat in a corner facing the
wall. Bridgette whistled a few bars of "Ding, Dong, the Witch is
Dead" from the Wizard of Oz to announce her presence.
"Jarod," she commanded sharply when that didn't get a reaction from
him. He still didn't acknowledge her. Bridgette's lip curled in
distaste. Her husband had turned into a zombie, Sydney and Broots were
even more useless than usual, and even Mr. Lyle was subdued. And now
Jarod had shut down. All because the brunette bitch had bought the
farm! Bridgette couldn't understand what had inspired such an
outpouring of grief.
Jarod fingered the shard of glass that had once been part of the
television screen. When his eyes were open he saw the thin, green line
blazed across his field of vision. When his eyes were closed he saw
the bullet ripping through the white fabric of Miss Parker's coat. He
saw her stunned expression as she fell. Eyes open. Eyes closed. It
didn't matter, both were hell.
"Jarod." Bridgette's voice tried to penetrate his world once again.
"We're moving you to another room." He felt hands pick him up and haul
him to his feet. Jarod managed to hide his precious piece of glass
before it was seen. They turned him to face Bridgette. She wore a
tight fitting black suit. A slight smile crossed her face. "Sorry for
my clothes, I just got back from a funeral. Lovely day for a mother/
daughter reunion, don't you think?"
Jarod's only reply was a grief stricken moan. Unsatisfied with that
response, Bridgette waved them away.
Mr. Lyle entered the room once Jarod was led away. He rubbed lightly
at his bruised neck. "I hope you're not saying things like that to
my father."
"Of course not. I am the perfect, comforting wife. I even suggested
that we name our new bundle of joy Angel, after the dearly departed."
Bridgette smiled coyly and patted her belly. Her life was perfect.
The biggest obstacle to her plans had been eliminated and she hadn't
even gotten her hands bloody. "It looks like our suspicions were
correct all along. Jarod and Miss Parker did have an attachment. No
wonder she never caught him, it would have put an end to whatever they
had going on behind closed doors."
Lyle's face was an unreadable mask. "The state of this room only tells
us how Jarod feels. I doubt that my sister shared those feelings, let
alone acted upon them." There was a hard edge to Lyle's voice.
Bridgette was disappointed. She had thought he would share her glee
in the death of her rival, but instead he seemed almost sad. Like he
really cared that he had lost a sister.
"In any case, Jarod is of no use to us in the state he's in. We have
to snap him out of it."
"I agree, but that's your job, Bridgette. Mine is tracking down Major
Charles and retrieving the clone."
Bridgette took a lollipop out of her pocket and removed the wrapper.
She dropped into the messy cell and slipped the candy into her mouth.
"Business as usual. That is the Center's motto."
*****
Jarod's new "room" was even more spartan than the first. It contained
only a foam pallet in the corner. He sat cross-legged on it with
his back to the door and the cameras. He would not allow them to see
his grief.
The shard of glass bit into his hand, but Jarod barely registered the
pain. Miss Parker was dead. That was the only pain he could
acknowledge. Blood dripped from his closed palm.
"Ouch, that has to hurt. I never took you for the self abusive type,
Jarod," Miss Parker's smooth voice taunted him. Jarod looked behind
him, but there was no one in the room with him. But it had been her
voice. "What exactly are you planning on doing with that thing?" her
voice was more worried and less mocking now.
Jarod closed his eyes. "I don't know," he whispered. "I want to be
with you."
"There's only one problem with that plan. Using your sharp little
friend will make you dead and I'm not dead."
To be continued....