A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, it's good to know you guys are enjoying this! Another chapter today, in a week or so the next and hopefully on Monday another Pretender story. I am still editing, but hopefully it will be done by then, somewhere in between Father's day and finishing a comic con outfit...I have too many hobbies.
When sweepers were sent in to retrieve the lunch plates, something else was brought into the room; a record player and several vinyl records. Jarod went up to it immediately to inspect the item, she joined him and went through the records. She picked a favourite of hers, and Jarod watched as she placed the needle on the record. With a crackling sound, the record started spinning, and music started playing. It gave her a strange feeling to see the delight and fascination of something so mundane to her on his face. She saw his sponge-like brain soak up every little detail; not only of the machine but also as he closed his eyes from the music, filing away every note to that insanely working brain of his. In the past, she'd often wondered how it would have been to have his kind of brain during college, thoughts of how quick he would have been done with the essay she'd been struggling to finish.
The song ended and another one started, Jarod's face lit up even more, "I know this song!"
"You heard this before?" She questioned, wondering if Sydney had allowed him to listen to a song just for fun.
"It was for a simulation," he explained, "something happened in a ballroom, and I had to find out who the killer was. The images were silent, but I convinced Sydney that I needed the music that these people were hearing and dancing to, to solve it!"
She let out a half amused half impressed chuckle, "Clever." She commented. He looked so happy she thought.
"I memorised their dance steps, here, let me show you," he grabbed her by her middle and took her hands and before she knew what was happening, he was leading her into a waltz. It was quite some time since she made use of the skills she learned during ballroom lessons, but Jarod seemed to lead her with ease. Her natural reaction would have been to curse him out for touching her, most men who tried found out there were severe consequences to touching her without her initiating it, but Jarod touching her felt different somehow. She relaxed in his hold and led him lead her until his laughter interrupted her thoughts, "This is even so much better when you have someone to dance with" he commented cheerfully.
Images of Jarod practising dancing alone in his room flooded her mind and she decided to humour him a little longer. He spun her around carefully in the little space they had to dance. Something about Jarod holding her did things to her body she couldn't understand, it was like a craving that was finally satisfied. He dipped her low and the way he looked at her with his intense happiness made her stomach flip flop and her skin flush. As the song ended and another started, she surprised both of them by pulling him closer to the soft romantic tunes filling their ears. They slowly swayed to the music, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her waist holding her close to his chest. The familiarity of it all gave her a strange sense of déjà vu, her feelings went in turmoil as she thought of the childlike happiness on his face just a minute ago.
Lifting her head from his shoulder she found his face inches from hers, the tenderness in his eyes was mesmerizing to her. The softness he held for her was not something she'd ever experienced in her adult life before. She was struck by the unfairness of the situation, his lifelong imprisonment by the Centre, and subsequent exploitation. Hell, even making him into an addict to satisfy their own need to experiment on him. Her eyes went to his lips, wondering how different a kiss with him would be now that they weren't children anymore. This man, who had never been able to explore the world, never truly experienced love, still had more love to give than any person she'd ever met before. He should be out there, free in the world to live his own life.
With that thought it felt like someone stuck hot needles behind her eyes, a sharp pain went through her head, which made her miss her step, and as she stumbled her hands went to her head. Jarod caught her, but she instantly pushed him away, her hands returning to her face, covering her eyes. She let out an agonized whimper, causing him to even be even more worried by her abrupt change in behaviour.
"Miss Parker, are you alright?" He closed the distance again distressed by the sudden onset of what looked like a migraine to him, but she sensed him reaching out and backed away, "Don't get your panties in a twist," she felt exhausted and let go of her head, "I'm fine, genius." The headache was now a jackhammer pounding between her eyes. She avoided his worrying gaze, 'She couldn't allow herself to feel sorry for him', she thought to herself, 'she was head of security after all. She needed to look out for the Centre's best interest and him staying here was in their best interest. Daddy needed her to be strong, she was a Parker after all, she wouldn't feel sorry for anyone', so she stalked over to the record player and turned it off.
The disappointment was clear on his face, every time he managed to come even a little bit closer, she went and pushed him away again. He left her alone, knowing from her demeanour it would take time for her to open up again. He took the time for a long shower, partially to give her space, but also for him to catch up on his own thoughts. She's been enjoying their dance he could tell by the corners of her mouth turning up ever so slightly and amused glimmer in her eyes. The way she'd willingly gotten even closer and held him was a memory he tried to commit to his mind in as much detail as possible. She seemed to affect him not only on a mental level but also did something to him on a physical level he hadn't experienced before. His heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing seemed to become erratic whenever she was near, and the closer she got, the more he felt out of control just as much as he felt like something clicked…like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together.
But then something had flashed over her face; an expression of sudden sadness when her headache had struck, and thaw had turned to ice again. He couldn't help but feel hurt at her rejection, and couldn't understand why she would distance herself again. Didn't she understand they were in the same situation, that he had just as little control over this as she did? Then he remembered what Sydney had once told him about children with childhood trauma: that a lot of them would have control issues as an adult, as a response to a traumatic event that left them feeling vulnerable and helpless. His mind went to the little girl who cried in his arms after Faith had died, she'd just lost her mother before that, and not long after she lost him too.
"They will do anything to try and regain control of a situation, Jarod. Fear can make a person act irrationally; control is their way to feel safe again." He could recall Sydney telling him. While that may be the truth, he couldn't help but feel hurt and dejected.
He was still sulking when he returned from the bathroom, his hair still slightly wet, his clothes clinging to his body. Despite being extremely warm from the shower he opted for a sweater, not wanting her to see his burn marks.
"Took you long enough," her voice rang out into the room as he walked in. He froze in his tracks because there laying on his bed was Miss Parker wearing nothing but her lingerie, which left very little to the imagination and his immediately kicked into overdrive. When he didn't move, she got up and sauntered towards him giving him a smile that was half intimidation, half invitation, "I figured why not just give them what they want, and we might all be out of this little situation before you know it." She stopped inches before him, so mesmerized by her figure Jarod forgot how to breathe. She softly stroked his cheek with her fingertips he felt completely overwhelmed as her hands travelled down and raked her nails just above his waistband. He closed his eyes, a whimper escaped him but as her hands travelled up to pull his sweater off he came back to his senses. He grabbed her hands stop in her, opening his eyes again he stared into hers intensely, trying to hold himself together. Her expression was one of lust, almost predatory, but he saw nothing of the connection that he'd seen during their dance. "This is not the solution, Miss Parker." He breathed heavily.
"Of course it is." She said seductively, leaning into him and whispered in his ear, "This is what they want, so we give them what they want, and when the show is over, we can all go back to our normal routine lives and forget this ever happened."
He swallowed and let out a breath he'd been holding, "but I wouldn't forget, and I don't want to do this with you. Not like this." He took her face carefully between his hands to make her face him, then started raking one hand through her hair. "I don't know who you're pretending to be, maybe your father, maybe the person you think they want you to be, but this isn't you." Her eyes started to fill up and he knew he was on the right track. "You keep going back and forth between who you truly are and this façade you created. But this is not what you want, and I won't let you." A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb, he saw fear and knew she would want to run. She did just that, but as she tried to get away from him he grabbed her and held her now weeping figure close to him. "No more running from your feelings, I know you're afraid, I know you want to get out of here and the lack of control is probably terrifying you, but I need you to accept that while we don't have control over the situation, we do have control over how we act towards each other. Please let me be your friend, because I am not your enemy."
Between sobs, she managed to chuckle, "Why do you have to be the emotional adult in this room." She croaked out.
"Probably because I was raised by a shrink." He winked at her, picked a blanket off his couch, and draped it over her half-naked body.
"I don't even know how to be a friend to anyone." She told him in a small voice while staring at his chest tugging the blanket tighter to
"Why don't you start by telling me what has happened in your life between now and the last time I saw you." He encouraged her, leading her to sit with him on the couch.
So, she did, while she still was hesitant to share any of her feelings concerning any of her memories it was the first time he managed to get her to open up for longer than a minute or so. He listened to her stories about boarding school, college, and her intense training with interest, trying to convey more information by studying her expression. Her true story lay in the way her eyes betrayed the loneliness he was all too familiar with, in the sad smile as she spoke about the achievements she earned. Telling him without words how many times there had been no one to be proud of her and all she'd done to gain approval from an absent father. It seemed she had longed for a home and loving just as much as he did. They had dinner on the couch in between her many stories and as the evening progressed her conduct became less reserved and more at ease.
She went to bed early, clearly drained from their intense afternoon and long talk in the evening, even going so far as wishing him a good night. He now understood her a little better but wasn't so sure she would still be open to him in the morning. Handling her emotional outbursts took a toll, even on him. Paired with his own inner demons they were probably due for another emotional explosion sometime in the very near future, he absolutely didn't feel like having. While Sydney taught him well to keep his emotions in check, after days of no sleep, even he was running out of self-control. Normally he could go at least five days without sleep, but the events of the last couple of days had him wrangling with so many emotions at the same time he felt overwhelmed and exhausted. He longed to rest, but the idea of returning to his nightmares was less appealing than having it out in a screaming match with Miss Parker, even if his mind kept playing versions of him cornering her against a wall and then exploring her lips with his own.
He let out a sigh, with little else to keep him occupied besides her, his imagination was running wild. Still wary of the experiment they were caught in, he felt it unethical to let his thoughts wander in that direction, Parker was probably right in assuming they wanted them to have sex, but why? He couldn't quite grasp the idea of fathering a child in this situation, were they trying to make him have a child with his abilities? Was that what this was all about? Why then not just use his bodily samples and create one? Just the thought of having a son who would have to go through all of the simulations he did as a child made him sick to his stomach. If only Sydney was here. He sat down on the floor against his bookcase, thinking the couch would be too comfortable for him to stay awake this night. Finally able to pull off his warm sweater he did, watching Miss Parker's sleeping figure under his blankets.
Knowing his mentor wouldn't be back for another two weeks made him anxious and frightened, especially after having been killed on the first day of his three-week vacation and then they'd gotten his childhood friend thrown in the mix. But the inevitable happened; sleep overtook him, unable to fight his tiredness any longer he fell asleep sitting with his head against the wall.