Disclaimer: Rights to The Pretender world and all its characters belong to creators Craig Van Sickle and Steven Mitchell. NBC owns a share, as do Twentieth Century Fox and TNT. (Even though they aren't going to air anymore re-runs – the bastards.) The point is I'm borrowing someone else's creation. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.


Admitting Hope pt 4
By Phenyx
10/16/2005

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come." – Anne Lamott.

-

The sound of metal striking wood clanged through the air. It was an odd sound, high-pitched and alien. Like nails on a chalkboard, the noise sent bone-chilling shivers down Miss Parker's spine. She crossed her arms, hugging her elbows to her body as she watched Jarod work.

With a final whack of the shovel, Jarod stepped back to examine the final product. A sturdy wooden cross, pounded into place with the makeshift hammer, now stood vigil over a fresh mound of earth. Simply engraved with five letters, the marker was a near twin to the older cross beside it.

"Do you think Sydney will mind?" Jarod asked quietly.

"No," Miss Parker replied.

They were the first words the two had spoken in hours. Neither of them had said anything since they had carried their dead brother from the woods in Delaware. The journey to Sydney's cabin at White Cloud had been made in near silence.

Jarod crouched and wordlessly brushed away a stray leaf that had caught at the base of the older, weather worn cross. Miss Parker was surprised at the tenderness with which Jarod treated the grave. After all, Jacob had once played a major role in stealing Jarod from his family.

"Do you believe in the afterlife?" Jarod asked after several long minutes had past.

Miss Parker shrugged.

Wide brown eyes turned to look up at her. Dark and fathomless, Jarod's eyes were pools of grief and for a moment, Parker could feel the pain emanating from him in waves. With a deep sigh, Jarod stood.

"They never knew each other in this life," Jarod continued as he stared at the two graves. "But perhaps they can meet in the next one and be able to keep each other company." Those dark eyes turned toward Parker again. She fleetingly thought of beaten puppies. "Then they won't be alone anymore."

"Dead is dead," Miss Parker told him. "We all go to our graves alone. That's why coffins are only built for one."

Jarod's haunting gaze bored into hers. "That is the saddest thing I've ever heard," he whispered. He turned back to contemplate the graves. Silence fell as the two mourners stood side by side.

Their shadows had lengthened considerably before Jarod spoke again. "He knew," Jarod murmured. "Ethan knew he was going to die last night. And he knew that I would need to be there to kill the man who killed him." Jarod sniffed and brushed a tear away from his cheek. "That's why he was so insistent, so convinced that I had to come along. He knew that he wouldn't be here to help you through this."

"I don't need help," Miss Parker replied.

Jarod gaped at her. "Miss Parker," he gasped. "Someone has put a contract out on you."

"No!" Her icy tone dripped with sarcasm. "Do you think so?" She shook her head. "As soon as I get back, I'll find out who it is and I'll put a cap in them myself."

"Get back?" Jarod asked. "Back where?"

"Blue Cove, of course," Miss Parker snapped. "You're driving me back as soon as we're finished here."

Jarod frowned. "No."

"Excuse me?" Miss Parker's regal glare didn't faze Jarod one bit.

"You heard me." Jarod welcomed the anger that began to surge within him. It blotted out the pain. "There's nothing for you in Blue Cove but death and ashes. I can't let you walk back into that kind of danger. I won't let you throw away what my brother sacrificed so much to give to you."

"You won't let me?" Miss Parker sputtered in fury. "You sanctimonious son of a bitch. What gives you the right to give me orders?"

"I made a promise," Jarod said. "I promised my dying brother that I would keep you safe."

"I release you from your promise," she argued.

"It doesn't work that way, Miss Parker. I won't break my vow. I will protect you."

"How the hell are you supposed to do that? There are dozens of sweepers scouring the country for you. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for me to just stand here with you?" Miss Parker's blood boiled with a strange combination of rage and apprehension. In self-defense, she lashed out in true ice queen fashion. "How are you going to protect me when you can barely protect yourself? You can't even protect your own brothers."

Jarod flinched. For a moment it seemed as though the life had been ripped out of him, as if he had collapsed into himself. The instant the words left her lips, Parker regretted them. But she wouldn't, she couldn't, take them back.

"I have to try." Jarod spoke so softly that Miss Parker barely heard him. "I can't just walk away and let them kill you."

"Why not?" she retorted.

Jarod stared at her as he tried to decide among the hundred responses that flitted through his mind. 'I would never forgive myself,' held reign for an instant, followed quickly by 'Life would be so dull.' His heart thudded against his chest as he fought the replies he knew she would not welcome. 'I would miss you,' and 'No one else understands.'

He finally decided on something safe yet heartfelt. "I promised," Jarod said.

Miss Parker heaved a deep sigh. Equal parts irritation and resignation, the sound communicated either imminent injury or begrudging acceptance. It was always difficult to tell. Jarod knew that Miss Parker had never physically harmed him in the past and he gambled that she wouldn't in the future. But the woman had a sharp tongue that could leave him licking his wounds for days.

"Jarod," she began.

"Please Miss Parker," he whispered. Hopeful yet wary, Jarod pleaded with her. "Let me help you."

Sighing again, Miss Parker ran one hand through her hair in an anxious motion. The gesture was so familiar that Jarod found it almost soothing. He waited.

"I'm not one of your charity cases," she said. "I am not a broken thing for you to come along and fix."

"At least give me a week to find out who is behind this," Jarod begged.

"No. Absolutely not." Miss Parker crossed her arms and straightened defiantly. "I'm going back tomorrow."

"Five days." He tried again.

"I can't wait around that long, Jarod."

"Three." Jarod tried to keep the desperation from his voice but failed. "Give me three days."

Parker's angry blue-gray gaze met Jarod's pleading brown one. As a result, he could see in her eyes the exact moment when she submitted to him. "Two," she growled. "Two days and then I go back."

Nearly collapsing with relief, Jarod jumped at the compromise. "Fine," he nodded. "Two days."

"Fine," Miss Parker repeated.

Jarod glanced at his watch. Looking back up at Miss Parker he half expected her to ask for the time. Two days, she'd said. Two days she meant. There would be not one minute more and Jarod would accept not one minute less. Jarod didn't volunteer the current time and Miss Parker didn't ask for it. She knew him well enough to know that he would keep to their bargain.

They stood before the graves as the sun began to set. Jarod stared sightlessly at the names engraved on each marker: Jacob and Ethan. His mind tried to turn to the problem at hand but his concentration kept slipping. Miss Parker's silent presence was distracting him.

Turning to look at her, Jarod noticed Miss Parker still glaring at him, waiting for his next move. He frowned. Even rumpled and dressed in clothes far too big for her, Miss Parker managed to emanate a haughty superiority. She would have been intimidating if Jarod had not found her attire to be so damned appealing.

She was wearing his clothes. She still wore the leather jacket he had wrapped her in last night. Her legs were covered by a baggy pair of his jogging pants cinched tightly by the string around her waist to keep them from falling down.

Taking a deep breath, Jarod let the air hiss slowly from his lungs. He repeated the action several times yet it did nothing to alleviate the lightheadedness that had abruptly assaulted him. He refused to search too closely for the cause.

"I haven't eaten," Jarod said aloud. Grasping at that excuse he explained further. "I haven't eaten since yesterday. I need food." Rubbing at the headache that was forming above his eyes, Jarod added, "and an hour's sleep."

"You're getting spoiled out here on your own," Miss Parker chided him. "You used to be able to go almost a week without rest."

Jarod frowned. "The last twenty-four hours have felt like a week," he grumped. "I guess burying a sibling just sucks the energy right out of me." Jarod's voice was sharper than he had intended. But he couldn't help it.

Without another word, Jarod turned and headed toward the cabin. He strode purposefully across the field, glaring at the long grasses at his feet. He could hear Miss Parker walking beside him. He wondered for a moment at how she could manage to keep pace with him. For though her legs were delightfully long, Miss Parker was nowhere near as tall as he was. With no heels on her slipper-covered feet, Miss Parker was a good five inches shorter than Jarod yet her stride seemed to match his own.

Jarod fought an absurd desire to measure Miss Parker's legs. He then struggled with the image of doing so that popped into his mind. Choking back a groan, Jarod jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and kept walking.

"You're angry at me," Miss Parker observed.

Jarod sighed, didn't look at her. "I'm just angry," he said. "Not with you per se. Just angry in general."

"Good." The ice in Miss Parker's tone caught Jarod's attention and he turned to frown at her. "Anger can be a useful tool when focused properly," she explained. "At the moment, it is our most dangerous weapon."

Jarod shivered. It had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

-

End part 4