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 11
By Phenyx
03/06/2006

"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.


Miss Parker stood in the livingroom wearing nothing but her emerald green robe. It was well past midnight. She should have gone to bed hours ago. But instead she stood and waited.

It was a strange feeling, this sense of calm. The whispers that hovered at the edge of her consciousness were almost soothing in a weird, unexpected way. After weeks of anxiety, the sensation of doom, of impending danger was suddenly gone.

Miss Parker closed her eyes and sighed.

She knew exactly what her inner sense was telling her. The meaning was incredibly clear. The complete conviction with which she understood it should have frightened her, would indeed have frightened her a handful of months ago. But now, she felt only acceptance.

Jarod was back.

Where he went, Miss Parker did not know. But her inner sense had told her without a doubt that Jarod had gone. He'd been gone for several days. During that time, Miss Parker had been on her own.

Hell would freeze over before Miss Parker ever admitted it, but she had felt Jarod's absence keenly. Knowing that the lab-rat had been watching over her had given Miss Parker a sense of security that she had not recognized until it had vanished. In the days that followed, she had been constantly alert and extraordinarily cautious. For if she had gotten killed while Jarod was away, he would never forgive himself.

Why that thought made her anxious, Miss Parker refused to contemplate.

Miss Parker waited patiently. With her eyes closed, she listened to the room around her. She strained to hear even the faintest sound; anything to indicate that there may be someone else in the large house with her. But there was nothing except the steady ticking of the grandfather clock that stood in foyer and the faint murmur of whispers in her mind.

Her inner sense wasn't really talking to her. The whispers did not form actual words. Yet the noise they generated was like the false sound of the ocean heard when a seashell is held to the ear. It was pleasant, calm and unimposing. It was like listening to one of those mood relaxation CDs that she thought were such a load of crap, only a moron would waste money on one.

When the phone rang, it seemed very loud in the quiet house. The noise did not startle Miss Parker in the least. She'd been expecting it. This was why she'd been waiting. Jarod was back. Of course he would call.

One steady hand reached out and calmly plucked the phone from its cradle before it could ring a second time.

"What?" Miss Parker's greeting was as brusque as always, masking the warmth she felt.

"Which limb, do you suppose, I'd have to sacrifice in order to get a straight answer from these people?"

Miss Parker smiled sadly. Jarod sounded tired and frustrated. Though her inner sense told her everything would be fine, Jarod didn't seem to be as sure. "I'd have to say a thumb at the very least," she drawled.

That comment startled a bark of wry laughter from Jarod. "At the very least," he agreed with a snicker. He made a sound. Somewhere between a sigh and groan, the heavy exhalation was filled with resignation and anger.

Miss Parker tucked the phone against her shoulder and curled up on the couch. "Rough trip?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"But successful," Miss Parker said confidently.

"In a way," Jarod's tired voice abruptly snapped with fury. "Just once I'd like to find an answer that didn't raise three more questions! Just once!"

"That is the way the game is played, Jarod."

"I am so tired of this stupid game," Jarod sighed, sounding weary again. "I want out. Please God, I want out."

"Jarod." Miss Parker whispered his name softly, trying to put every ounce of empathy and understanding in it that she could manage. Her heart twisted for him. Jarod's voice was laced with despair and futility. She knew exactly how he was feeling. She'd been there many times herself, and would be many times again in the future. But there was no escape and they both knew it.

A long silence stretched between them.

"It's Raines," Jarod said finally. "Eidolon is Raines."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Miss Parker grumbled.

"This will," Jarod retorted. He spoke in sharp precise tones, as though he was trying to lash at her with his words. "The Triumvirate is going to stop him."

"Why?"

"Good question," Jarod admitted wryly. "Evidently you are of great importance to them. They want you protected."

Miss Parker frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know," Jarod agreed. "But it explains a few things don't you think?"

"What kind of things?"

"Like the fact that you've spent the last few years telling everyone to 'Go to Hell' and gotten away with it," Jarod said. "Anyone else would have been found stuffed in the trunk of a car by now."

"I figured that I was such a bitch, only an idiot would try to mess with me," Miss Parker mused.

"I think I've just been insulted," Jarod replied in a perfectly executed tone of wounded pride.

Miss Parker snorted. "So I've been under Triumvirate protection, huh?" she asked. "For how long?"

"Evidently, for just as long as I have been."

"What?" Miss Parker gasped.

"You heard me," Jarod answered.

"Why would they be protecting us? Both of us?"

"Like I said," Jarod sighed. "One answer begets three new questions."

Miss Parker sat quietly for a moment, pondering what Jarod had told her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parker," Jarod murmured. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more information."

"But you got what you were looking for. That's the important thing."

"True," Jarod agreed sadly. "I got Eidolon."

"What do we do now?" Miss Parker asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Miss Parker frowned in confusion.

"I've been assured that the Triumvirate will take care of the problem."

"Do you trust them?" Miss Parker's quiet voice was edged with hardness.

"Not one bit," Jarod admitted. "But they are selfishly motivated. They won't do anything for me, or even for you. In their eyes they are simply establishing territory, marking the boundaries around their property."

"And we belong to them," Miss Parker said.

"Evidently."

"You surprise me Jarod," she told him. "You don't normally accept this kind of attitude so easily."

Jarod sighed heavily. "I'm just tired of fighting. I'm really, really tired. My nerves have been stretched too thin for too long."

"You need a good night's sleep," Miss Parker said. She struggled for a moment, trying to decide what she could say that would enable her to share the feeling of calm security whispering through her mind. For despite these new unknowns Jarod had discovered, Miss Parker knew that the danger had passed.

The trick now was to convince Jarod.

"Yeah, sleep would be nice," Jarod said with a dreamy purr. "Hot shower, soft bed, clean sheets."

Miss Parker smiled. She had changed the linen in the butler's quarters earlier this evening. She'd made the bed with her own two hands, a chore she hadn't bothered with since she'd left boarding school. It was such a simple thing, fresh sheets on the bed she knew Jarod had been using. She knew he would notice the small gesture and that he would greatly appreciate it.

Franken-rat was so easy to please. It was almost sad, how little it took to make Jarod happy.

The soft smile still curving her lips, Miss Parker shook her head as she realized she was listening to a dial tone. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment before hanging up. Then, with a purposeful stride, she made a circuit of the entire first floor. Habit forced her to turn out lights and double check the locks, just as she had every night since moving in.

Before going up the stairs to retire for the night, she peeked out the window next to the front door. The lights in the yard were on, brightening the walk and the cement doorstep. Her eyes searched vainly for a glimpse of Jarod. She knew he was out there, hiding amongst the shadows. She also knew she wouldn't see him.

With a small sigh, Miss Parker shrugged and hurried to her room. Jarod was tired. But Miss Parker knew he would not come into the house while she was awake. He would not sleep until she did.

Climbing into bed, Miss Parker pulled the quilt up around her chin. She fluffed the pillow between her hands before tucking it securely under her head. A few minutes later, she drifted to sleep with the soothing sound of ocean waves whispering in her mind.

-

End part 11