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 9

By Phenyx

01/14/2006

"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.

-

Jarod lowered the binoculars with a sigh. He leaned his forehead against the back of his hands and closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired, so very tired. Behind his shuttered lids, his eyes felt dry and itched with fatigue. Every muscle in his body ached.

Stretched out on his stomach, Jarod lay flat on the ground. In his black mottled clothes, he was well camouflaged amongst the brush on this hill. But his cover did little to protect him from the cold rain that had been falling all day. There was an icy chill in the air only barely warm enough to keep the precipitation in a liquid state rather than a frozen one. Jarod would have preferred snow over this dreary mist of rain. At least snow would have been pretty.

The earth beneath him had turned to mud hours ago and Jarod felt as though the muck was seeping into his bones. He was cold and wet, exhausted to a degree he'd never before experienced outside of his prison cell. Miserable didn't begin to describe his current state of mind.

Through his earpiece, Jarod heard the clear, distinctive sound of a door opening. He raised the high-powered binoculars and peered through them to see Miss Parker striding into her office. She looked relatively calm, considering she'd just come from a status meeting in the Tower.

Wait… Today was Wednesday. Miss Parker's meeting with Lyle and Raines had been on Tuesday. Jarod frowned as he tried to clear the weary confusion from his mind. She had just come from the operations center, not the Tower.

More than two weeks had past since Jarod had left Miss Parker on the sidewalk in front of the Dover town Bank. Fifteen days since Jarod had begun his surveillance. He'd developed an intimate knowledge of Miss Parker's daily schedule. Most of Jarod's time was spent here, roughly a quarter mile away from the Centre's gates, as he watched Miss Parker at work. He was painfully aware of the fact that he'd be useless if anything should happen to her within those walls. But at least he could watch over her.

Jarod had, in fact, been much closer in the first days of this ordeal. He'd been forced to slip by Centre security and gain access to Miss Parker's office for the sole purpose of opening the blinds that covered her office windows. He had taken that same opportunity to plant listening devices in key locations as well.

Nights were spent watching Miss Parker at home. Well, at her father's home at any rate. She had taken up residence in what she had always called "the big house". She moved into the room that had been hers when she was in high school. For their first three nights in Blue Cove, Jarod had watched her second story bedroom window from the street. On the forth night, he'd realized just how big the house really was and he'd moved into the vacant servant's quarters. Jarod hadn't slept much, but he'd been able to grab the occasional hot shower.

Miss Parker didn't know. Jarod had gone to great lengths to leave no trace of his presence. In true stalker fashion, he watched without his subject's knowledge. Jarod realized that Miss Parker would not appreciate him being there. If she were to discover his location, she'd undoubtedly sic the sweepers on him.

During the hours that Miss Parker was asleep, Jarod continued to delve into the mystery of Eidolon. Though Eidolon's identity was still unknown, Jarod had found mention of the codename in some older files. Using the dates on those files, he had been systematically cross-referencing the personnel files to find suspects. It was slow going, but it was all Jarod had to go on for the moment.

As a matter of fact, the one thing they had going in their favor was Eidolon's extraordinary attempts at secrecy. Whoever this Eidolon was, he (or she) was being very cautious. For while Miss Parker made little effort to protect herself from danger, most days had gone by quietly. Even if Jarod had not read it in the Z-3 file, it was apparent that Miss Parker's death was to look like an accident.

Even now, four days afterward, Jarod was not sure whether the blown tire on Miss Parker's car had been sabotage, or a random act of fate. If it had been the former, the attempt had been an incredibly well veiled one. Only Miss Parker's skill behind the wheel had kept her from serious injury.

Jarod lowered the field glasses and sighed again. With his forehead resting on his crossed wrists, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply listen. Miss Parker's fingers flew across her keyboard. She was answering emails no doubt. Jarod found the staccato of sound soothing, almost melodic.

In his mind Jarod pictured her long fingers, playing across the letters of her keyboard as though they were keys of a piano. Her manicured nails, not long enough to interfere with her typing, had been painted a deep red this morning. Jarod had seen her do it. So the image conjured in his mind was achingly accurate.

Jarod was still fantasizing about long fingers and hooker-red nails when he heard the door in Miss Parker's office open again. His head snapped up and for a moment he feared that she had left the room. But a quick look through his binoculars told him that she had not. Instead, someone else had entered.

"Sydney," Miss Parker acknowledged.

"Good afternoon, Miss Parker." The older man eased into the chair facing her desk without waiting for an invitation.

Miss Parker had her back to the windows. As such, Jarod could not see her face, but the tone in her voice made it easy to picture her raised eyebrows.

"What's up Syd?"

"I wanted a moment with you," Sydney began. "A moment without the audience we had in the operations center.

"I haven't heard from him," she replied to the psychiatrist's unasked question.

"Neither have I." Sydney leaned forward anxiously. "We haven't had any word, no trace at all, for three weeks."

"He'll call," Miss Parker said. "Sooner or later, he'll call."

"I hope you are right." Sydney shook his head. "I'm concerned for his safety. We haven't heard from him since before the explosion in your home. What if he has fallen victim to a similar accident?"

Miss Parker paused for a moment before answering. "That would be extremely coincidental. Not likely."

"Accidents can be arranged Miss Parker," Sydney said. "Especially at the Centre. I fear that you may be in grave danger."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Jarod could see the frown of consternation on his old mentor's face. "If you were in trouble," Sydney said slowly. "You'd come to me, wouldn't you?"

"There's nothing you can do Sydney," Miss Parker replied. "There's really nothing to worry about."

"This is the Centre Miss Parker. There is always plenty to worry about."

Jarod could hear the smile in Miss Parker's voice as she said, "Worrying just wastes energy. Try to relax, Freud."

Sydney nodded thoughtfully for a moment before rising quickly from his chair. He turned and was almost to the door when he hesitated. Without looking back at Miss Parker, the older man murmured again, "I do hope he is all right."

"He's fine."

A moment later, Sydney left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Miss Parker sighed noisily. With a frustrated slap of her palms against the desktop, Miss Parker stood and said, "There is no reason to shut Sydney out like this. He'll work himself into a tizzy if he doesn't hear from you soon."

Jarod frowned. Miss Parker's comments puzzled him. She was alone, talking to herself. It made no sense.

Jarod watched as Miss Parker ran one hand through her hair. She moved away from the desk and turned to gaze out of the office window. Intellectually speaking, Jarod knew that Miss Parker could not see him. At this distance, through a misty rain, with Jarod in camouflaged clothing, it was impossible. And yet Jarod felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

Watching her through the binoculars, it seemed to Jarod that Miss Parker was staring right at him. When she lifted her hand and caressed the glass with her fingertips, Jarod shivered as though he could feel her touch. In a flash of wonder, Jarod abruptly realized that Miss Parker knew he'd been watching. She knew exactly where he was. She knew yet the sweepers did not come.

"Call Sydney," she grumbled at the window in front of her. After a long pause she spoke again. "We can't keep this up much longer."

"I know," Jarod whispered back. "We need help."

With another run of her hand through her hair, Miss Parker went back to her desk. The sound of fingers on a keyboard resumed.

Jarod watched for a long minute then whispered, "I have a few markers to call in. I'll be gone a few days."

Jarod knew Miss Parker could not hear him, anymore than she could have seen him when she looked out the window. It was an irrefutable fact. But when she suddenly stopped typing and turned back toward the window, it seemed as though she was indeed listening to him.

Goosebumps crawled across Jarod's skin and he swallowed hard. The eerie sensation he'd felt with Ethan in the fog that morning returned. Jarod's respect for Miss Parker's skills increased several notches. Her inner sense was a substantial thing, growing even stronger than he had realized.

"Don't get yourself killed, Einstein," Miss Parker said.

"I'll do my best," Jarod replied. "Be careful while I'm gone, Miss Parker. Stay safe."

"I'll be fine," she said. The sharp scolding tone in her voice nearly convinced Jarod that they were actually conversing rather than just speaking to the empty air around them. "I can take care of myself," she added.

"So I see." Jarod waited a few more minutes. Miss Parker had returned to her work before he rose from the ground. Within seconds, he had gathered his supplies and slipped away from his hiding place. It was time to go on the offensive.

The waiting was over.

--

End part 9