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 7
By Phenyx
11/26/2005

"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.


-

When Miss Parker opened her eyes, the room was still dark. She rolled over with a sigh and blinked at the red digits glowing from the clock on the nightstand. 6:10 A.M. More than four hours had elapsed since she had left Jarod standing in the hallway.

Knowing that she wouldn't be going back to sleep any time soon, Miss Parker threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed. She stretched and yawned loudly before moving toward the door. Once in the corridor, she headed directly for Jarod's room to check on the lab-rat.

She told herself that it was only wise to keep an eye on the unpredictable man. He was her rival after all, supposedly her quarry. But even as the thought formed, Miss Parker only half believed it. Her other half was concerned about the pretender's well being. She'd chew off a limb before admitting it, but she was worried about the annoying little cretin.

Jarod wasn't in his room, of course. The bed linens were crumpled in a wad at the foot of the bed, untouched since Jarod's nightmare a few hours ago. The rest of the room was bare except for a large duffel bag sitting forlornly on the floor in one corner. The bag looked as though it had been dropped there, or perhaps kicked, and promptly forgotten.

Kneeling gracefully beside the duffel, Miss Parker easily untied the loose knot that held the bag closed. She rummaged among the clothes and red notebooks for a moment, rolling her eyes when she came across a package of half crushed Twinkies. She tossed the crumpled cellophane into a nearby trashcan.

"Yes," she murmured when she found something that would suit her needs. Grinning triumphantly, Parker held up the boxer shorts for a quick inspection. Why Pez-head had decided to own a pair of red silk boxers with a little white heart design was completely beyond her imagination. But seeing the look on Jarod's face when he realized she had them was going to be absolutely priceless.

Grabbing one of more than a dozen white T-shirts from the bag, Miss Parker tossed the clothes over her shoulder and retraced her steps out of the room. She went down the corridor and past her own room to the master bath at the end of the hallway. She took a very hot but quick shower and only a few minutes later, she was making her way downstairs.

Still toweling her hair dry with one hand, Miss Parker padded quietly through the cabin. She was barefoot, wearing only the cotton t-shirt and silk shorts she had appropriated from Jarod's room. There were no lamps burning but the dim light of the approaching dawn was enough to guide Parker's way.

It was the distinct patter of fingers on a keyboard that gave Miss Parker her first indication of Jarod's location. She followed the sound to the kitchen where she found Jarod sitting at the table with his laptop open in front of him. He sat on the edge of a wooden chair, glaring at the screen. Every few moments, his fingers would fly across the keys only to pause as new images appeared.

Miss Parker watched him from the doorway. Jarod was deeply engrossed in what he was doing. His back was ramrod straight and he leaned over the keyboard with a tension that Parker could almost taste in the air.

How many times had she seen him like this? He was hard at work, completely immersed in his research and totally ignorant of her presence. There had been times, too many to count, when Miss Parker had stood among the shadows on the catwalk in the sim lab. She had watched Jarod work, studied him. She had envied the unerring attention he had received from those around him.

Watching Jarod now did have one major difference that Miss Parker couldn't help but notice. He wasn't wearing the typical inmate gray sack that had become the Centre uniform. As a matter of fact, Jarod wasn't wearing much of anything at all. Dark denim jeans covered his legs but other than that, Jarod's body was bare.

The jeans Jarod wore were the same ones he'd had on when he appeared at Miss Parker's house more than a day ago. They were undoubtedly dusty and grass-stained but any grime was hidden by shadow. As she admired the way the pants hung low on Jarod's hips, Miss Parker decided that Rat-boy looked very good in denim.

The glow from the computer screen cast Jarod in a dim light, making the angles of his face and torso seem even sharper than normal. But as dawn crept into the room, the light changed. The stark black and white of Jarod's profile softened. His eyes, coal black in the gloom, warmed into the chocolaty brown that Parker had known for so long.

With a start Miss Parker realized that those eyes were no longer focused on the computer screen. Instead, Jarod's dark gaze fell on her. He blinked at her in mild astonishment and a faint smile curled his lips as he looked at her.

"What?" Miss Parker didn't have quite the venom behind the snarl that she'd been going for, but it was enough to douse the warm amusement in Jarod's eyes.

"Nothing," he answered quickly.

Parker went to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. Not only did it provide a welcome jolt of caffeine, but the mug also allowed her to hide the smirk that spread across her face. Jarod's reaction to her attire had been just as comical as she had expected. Teasing the lab rat had always been so easy.

Miss Parker watched Jarod pound on the keyboard for a few more minutes. She wondered idly about the oddness of the situation in which they found themselves. Here they sat, predator and prey, sitting together as dawn brightened the day around them. Yet even as the thought occurred to her, Miss Parker felt not the least bit unsettled by the circumstances.

Miss Parker had drained her cup and rinsed it in the sink before speaking again. "Any news?"

"Not enough," was Jarod's reply. He stretched, ran both hands through the hair on top of his head and sighed. "I found a Z-3 file on you."

"As expected," Miss Parker said with a nod.

"Hmm." Jarod agreed. "It was well buried within the Centre mainframe. Whoever issued that contract didn't want anyone else to find it."

"No, duh."

"You don't understand, Miss Parker," Jarod explained. "The file was hidden beneath six different layers of security. I didn't even have access to get to it and I'm using a Triumvirate level security code."

Miss Parker frowned. "Where did you get Triumvirate level access?"

Jarod's answering grin was irritatingly confident. "You don't think I've been able to stay ahead of you through shear luck all these years, do you?"

"There's a Triumvirate leak," Miss Parker gasped.

"Oh no," Jarod laughed. "Nothing so melodramatic as that. I simply gain remote access to the Centre infrastructure and keep tabs on things."

"How?"

"If I told you that, it wouldn't be any fun," Jarod chided her. "Let's just say that I know exactly which employees are over-utilizing their Internet usage."

"You know everything don't you?" Miss Parker growled.

"No." Jarod's face was suddenly quite serious, his eyes filled with sadness and regret. "There are secrets so old that they aren't hidden within the computers. Only the newer secrets are filed electronically."

Miss Parker shook her head as if to clear it. "Get to the point, Pez-head. Who's trying to kill me?"

"I don't know," Jarod replied. "The Z-3 file was issued under the code name Eidolon. At first I thought Alex was behind it."

Miss Parker nodded, following Jarod's train of thought without prompting. "Alex called himself the ghost," she remembered.

"And 'eidolon' means phantom," Jarod finished.

"Why would Alex go to this much trouble to kill me?" Parker asked.

"He wouldn't," Jarod admitted. "If Alex were behind this, he would be rubbing my nose in it. And I know that he wouldn't be hiring the job out. He gets too much satisfaction out of doing the job himself."

"So it isn't Alex," Miss Parker agreed.

"Who else would want to see you dead?" Jarod asked.

The glare Miss Parker cast at him spoke volumes. "Shall we make a list?"

Jarod shook his head. "No. We don't have that much time."

"Keep it up, Rat-boy."

Jarod ignored her. "We both know you've made more than your share of enemies, Miss Parker. But the weird part is how hard someone is working to hide the Z-3 file. Why kill you so secretively? Why hide it from the Triumvirate? Why not just walk up to you in the elevator and pull the trigger?"

"Hey!"

"No offense, Miss Parker," Jarod said. "But if I were the one fulfilling a contract on your life, that is how I would do it. I'd just wait until April 13th and shoot you in the same elevator where your mother supposedly died."

Miss Parker swallowed, fighting back the tears that abruptly began to sting behind her eyes. "Then I guess I'm lucky you're not a contract killer."

"Not today," Jarod replied automatically. His gaze turned toward Miss Parker and for a moment, she thought she saw it soften. When he spoke again his voice was low yet full of warmth. "And not ever were you are concerned, Miss Parker. You do know that, don't you?"

Miss Parker nodded. Like it or not, she did trust Jarod. She trusted him with her life. And frankly, that scared the hell out of her.

-

End part 7