This is my first foray into Pretender fiction and I've taken some creative liberties with the timeline of events. It's set about a month after the second movie and Miss Parker returns to the Centre to find Brigitte is pregnant. I always felt that Parker's inner sense would have been buzzing like crazy if she had a biological connection to baby Parker so here we go. I'm not sure where it's going but I hope you enjoy the ride because I'm having great fun writing this.
I do not own any of the Pretender characters. They are the property of the lousy TV people who cancelled this show!.
It was mid-morning when Miss Parker found herself standing by the lake, a place she'd often come to in the last few weeks for some semblance of peace. The water shimmered under the sunlight but its beauty couldn't quiet the storm raging inside her. She folded her arms tightly against her chest, the breeze tugging at the edges of her well worn cashmere sweater. She stared at the rippling surface.
Guilt, thick and unrelenting, weighed heavily on her shoulders. It was finally dawn, a marmalade sky rolling out above her. A salve to her suffering. She had left the bed about twenty minutes before it broke. Giving in to the restlessness that kept her from sleep. A part of her acknowledged what the hyper vigilance and nervous tension were. What they signalled. A post traumatic trauma that had seeped into her bones. She was terrified she'd miss a moment. A cry. A whimper. She couldn't breathe. His smell constantly filled her nose. The baby sweet smell that both filled and broke her heart. His milky breath when he buried his face into her cheek. She thought of Jarod. Her mind racing in spite of the calm morning. She thought of Jarod and the Island. At how easily he had unravelled her. It had been a slow, almost imperceptible unravelling at first – just a look, a moment of connection, understanding between them. But when he touched her. Touched her fingers, her heart had started to hammer in her chest. It had all been too much. She had wanted him in a way that terrified her. And then, as he leaned in, she realised how easy she had crumbled, how quickly she had let him in. She had no doubts if they hadn't been interrupted he would have been inside her within minutes. She reflected on this. This connection between them that would have resulted in her yielding completely after being alone with him for all of five minutes. Her thoughts drifted to the Center, to the man she had believed was her father and the lies he had fed her. The manipulation that had seemed so far away when she was in the heart of it. She had never believed she was one of them. She had always thought herself different, smarter, more capable of seeing through their schemes. But now, in the cold light of everything she'd learned, she felt like just another lab rat, another test subject. She felt like the very thing they had trained her to despise.
"How could I have been so blind?" she whispered and the sound of her own voice almost shocked her in the stillness of the morning. The wind rustled through the trees carrying her voice away into the woods. Winter was hitting Montana early this year according to local radio and she wished she had brought her jacket. She had been just so eager, so anxious to get out of the house. To breathe. To suck fresh, clean air into her lungs. She missed cigarettes dearly when she was like this. Like a tightly coiled spring.
She had been so sure of herself. So sure she wasn't like Jarod. She had always told herself that she was somehow untouchable. Daddy had her back. She was the future. That she was immune to the games the Center played. The realisation of what they had done cut her to her core. More questions plagued her, unanswered and unresolved. The silence of the lake only deepened her confusion. She wanted to scream.
She hadn't expected to want him. To need Jarod in the way that she did. But there it was. And with it a fresh wave of guilt. She had hurt him in the past. Rejected him. Used him, manipulated him. She had been so sure of her superiority, so certain that she was the one in control. But now she saw it differently. He had been the one who had shown her a different way, a new path. And that made her feel weak. Ashamed.
Every second she spent with him appeared to be unlocking something within her. This heightened perception. This inner sense. She thought back to the moment she grasped its true potency. Standing in the conference room about to take her seat for a meeting when Brigette entered, her left hand loosely slid across her stomach and Parker's brain almost combusted. In moments of high stress it had been like a static, like a lost signal on an old TV. But on this day. This day it hit her like a sledge hammer breaking a nut. Brigette had been forcing a smile through gritted teeth. She was pale. Her eyes dark rimmed and dull, in stark contrast to her barbie pink suit and stilettos. It made Parker weak with nausea to know, the cold snake of realisation that this woman carried her child. Felt him kick. That he heard her voice instead of hers. Brigette had taken a seat beside her and kept her hand on her stomach whilst grinning adoringly at across the table at her father who appeared not to notice. She had originally put it down to a womans' intuition. She had always over analysed her interactions with her father and she was aware something was brewing in the Tower. Something secret. Something with high importance. She had gotten Broots on board to get his monkey hands flying across the keyboard and into the Centers mainframe but he was consistently locked out. Project Renascitus. Project. Project. Her boy, their boy, was a project. The buzzing inside her skull had caused her to grab her temples in agony and release a whimper of pain. Brigette flicked her eyes in mock concern.
"Hangover my dear?"
Parker pushed back her chair and muttered "Migraine". She stumbled from the room and fumbled in her pocket as she did so. She tried to focus on her phone. Syd. She'd call Syd. He had tried to help her harness her inner sense. Tried to train her like he trained her mother. She needed to talk to Syd. Something stopped her and she glanced around. Center employees floated through the pristine halls like busy little worker bees. She needed out. She couldn't call Syd. She was damn sure her phone was being intercepted. Fuck. She had felt faint. She had made it to her office and drew a cold cup of water to her lips. The coolness immediately grounded her and she began to box breathe. A technique Syd had taught her to work on when she felt control slipping. She thought of Ethan and cursed herself for not thinking that they wouldn't try this sooner. She thought of Jarod's clone. The boy she had tried to rescue. She thought of Jarod and their time alone in the vents. How she would steal sweet treats from the Center cafeteria and hide them up her sleeve. His joy at discovering chocolate. His murmurs of comfort when she was sad. How he had held her in his arms and she clung to him in desperation. How when she was fourteen she found herself noticing the strength in his arms and the way he smelled. How she ended up in boarding school half way around the world two weeks after she wrote this in her diary. She thought of their moment of weakness. Again how it had happened so quickly. She wondered if Ocee hadn't made them more damned tea. She didn't have to wonder. She knew exactly what would have happened. Jarod would have opened that robe and she would have let him. She allowed herself wonder if they would have conceived a child. Because their destiny now included a child. Not the way the universe had intended for them but now in a grotesque twist to their story the institution that had tortured them from their early years now appeared hell bent on continuing this legacy into infinity. She would need proof she gathered as she steadied herself against the wall and then thought about it again. She wouldn't. Her sucker punch to the gut and the blinding headache had her completely convinced she was right. She thought of her child being raised in the sterile labs of the Centre with no joy, no human affection, being raised as an instrument of destruction and pain and the room began to spin.
"Trust your inner sense Miss Parker. I know I do."
She thought of her child being raised in the sterile labs of the Centre with no joy, no human affection and the room began to spin.
His face filled her mind. She needed to speak to him. Needed him. He would be incandescent when he found out what they did. Family to Jarod was like kryptonite to Superman. Family. They were family now. Brigette had her family. Her flesh and blood. Her baby. Her boy. The son of the man she….She couldn't hold back and retched. Water and the remains of a breakfast rice cake landed on the floor. Before she could gather herself Broots announced himself with a single rap on the door and stuck his head into her office. He stepped back when he saw her on her knees. Her short skirt riding high on her thighs.
"Eh…are you ok?"
"Do I look Ok Broots, get me some paper towels!" she yelled. He jumped and disappeared as a tear slid down her cheek.
Sydney appeared moments later dressed in a winter coat and scarf. She had stood and was gripping the edge of her desk. Broots pushed past him and pressed the paper towels into her hands.
"Shut the door Syd".
She went about cleaning the mess, dumping it in the waste paper basket before flopping into her chair. She swivelled to face the ocean.
You boys want to get out of here for lunch? My treat."
Parker had made them secure their phones in the car while they strolled along the park in Blue Cove. Miss Parker had been quiet the whole drive. Sydney knew better than to approach her for the moment. In a stinging twist of irony Broots had made a joking remark to her that she might be pregnant. He immediately regretted it when she shot him a look not that withered him but one that made him highly concerned. Her eyes had filled with tears. Broots began to wonder if she really was pregnant.
"I am expecting a baby Broots" Parker had whispered and Broots almost stumbled into a rose bush. Sydney gaped. He had had questions for Parker about her time on the Island with Jarod but he had kept them to himself. There was no one in her life that he was aware of but then she did have a penchant for impulsive encounters. He had watched her expectantly. She sat on a bench, clasping her hands between her knees and staring at her shoes.
"Brigette is pregnant. I believe she's carrying my baby. Mine and Jarods".
Broots made a sort of strangled gasp as Sydney joined her on the bench and put his hands over his face. His eyes were wide when he finally looked at her. The cold dread in his stomach rebuking him for not anticipating this sooner. Of course. Of course they would do something like this.
"The voices…they're stronger than they've ever been Syd. Whenever I'm around her my head feels like its gonna explode…..and I can…..i can hear him Sydney…I can hear my baby….my boy…he calls to me". Her voice wavered. Sydney grasped her arm tightly.
"My God. My God Parker" he whispered "Catherine…your mother…she felt the same"-
Broots stood gaping at Parker unable to speak. Her shoulders began to shake. The reality of what she had revealed now becoming unbearable, unthinkable, as she spoke the words out loud.
"Does Jarod know?" Sydney managed and she shook her head sharply. I haven't heard from him Syd. I've only heard from him once since we came back from Scotland. I pushed him away Sydney. He had reached out to me, to help me be free and I pushed him away".
"Are you sure Brigittes even pregnant and that its your kid?" Broots said, more to himself as he thought out loud. Sydney and Parker both stared at him.
"Im just sayin' is all. I mean…..its just a feeling you're getting right?"
Broots threw up his hands in exasperation and self defence as Parker shook her head.
"I'm sure Broots. This is more than a feeling. It's a knowing. It's in my bones. I know it. She has my son". Another realisation had suddenly dawned on her and she turned to him in anguish.
"I need to know how this happened Broots. When I was shot maybe….or my ulcer…but I need to know there aren't anymore…..children…..I don't feel like there is but….I need to be sure" she stammered.
Broots nodded emphatically "Whatever you need Miss Parker. I'll get on it".
And on it Broots had gotten.
A rumble of thunder pulled Parker out of her reverie and she was back in the present. A cold wind was blowing off the lake chilling her bones. Jarod would have the stove lit by now and the boy would be hungry. She smiled. Her breasts ached. Full and heavy and singing for release. It had been Jarod's idea. The hormones. She had balked at first. In shock. In disbelief that this was actually happening. He had pitched it to her one evening several weeks before the birth. Before he cut their child out of Brigitte. He got her a prescription and she filled it. She took them religiously every day and her body was repaying her in kind. She was peak Miss Parker with a side of nausea and a craving for edam cheese and crackers.
"It'll help you bond with him. Give you that physical closeness she stole from you both. Plus…practically….it would be easier…the ranch is miles from the nearest store and it isn't exactly a Trader Joes or Target". Parker had stared at him, her eyes glassy. Her mouth agape. He had slipped into her bedroom at 3am. Sweat and mud caked his clothes and face. The rain had been teeming down. He was exhausted from the plans they had been making as they hammered out the finer details. The emotional strain taking its toll. Everything had to go down perfectly. He had stared at her in the soft light from the bathroom where he had taken a shower before he joined her on the bed. She had awoken to the sound of the shower pelting his body and before she opened her eyes she knew it was him. Everything had become heightened since Brigette's pregnancy. Her inner sense fine tuning like magnetic field around everything and everyone. The flashes of moments whether future or past were disconcerting and distracting. As water pounded Jarod's body she had a flash of herself pressed against cold tiles and her eyes shot open. He emerged, tightening a towel around his waist. He felt her eyes roving over his body, admiring the toned V of his abdomen. He responded instinctively, knowing she would sense this immediately. She did and looked away before sitting up and turning on the main light. She wasn't ready for this.
He wasn't going to push her. They couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when their son's life hung in the balance. He allowed himself admire her in kind though and was unapologetic as she watched him watch her. He was staring at her chest. The hormones were kicking in. Her bras had started to become more snug, her tailored jackets struggling to close. She lifted her chin and held his gaze. He fought the urge to trail his fingers along her collar bones.
"As you can see the hormones are kicking in nicely" she quipped softly breaking the tension as she looked down at her chest.
Jarod became bashful and looked away from the white satin. The simplicity of it underlining her vulnerability, making her impossible to resist. Leather and lace no more. He shifted on the bed beside her and adjusted the towel, marvelling at how all the different facets of her could have equal parts in his undoing. This version of her held his heart in a vice.
"How are you feeling?"
"Swell" she grinned in a way that made him glad she was no longer prone to pulling guns on him.
"I can see that" he shot back and she punched his arm.
"Did you bring me food?" she demanded as she swung her long legs out of bed and pulled on a silk robe. She pulled the belt tightly and in an instant he was transported back to that cottage in Scotland. No Ocee here. No siree bob. Damn she's beautiful. Damn she's the mother of my child. He regained focus.
"I'm travelling light I'm afraid. Was actually hoping you'd feed me" he said as he picked up the dirty clothes from the floor.
She crossed the room and took them from him. "I'll throw wash those….I have some things you can wear….from Tommy". They had fallen into a routine that could have been classed as domestic if he didn't show up in the dead of night to formulate plans to topple a clandestine organised crime group. She had told him over the phone following an email from Angelo. Angelo, the empath was also aware of the pregnancy and encouraged Jarod to contact Parker. It had been 2am on a Tuesday and she had been waiting and wishing for his call for close to a week. The 'What?' came in a straggled gasp on the second ring. Something in her broke when her phone flashed.
"What's happened?" he had asked. The silence on the phone was so long he thought he had lost her until a shaky sigh later and a swallow told him to sit down if he wasn't already. Jarod braced himself for the worst. Someone was dead. Maybe Sydney. Maybe his mother.
"They did it again Jarod"
"Did what?
"They've tried to create another Pretender. Brigitte has been impregnated…with….with…" she began to sob and she didn't have to finish. He too berated himself for not seeing this coming. Some genius. Clearly not evil genius. He had always felt untethered and out of control when simming someone who could be classed as evil. It left him drained and trembling and unable to function for days and if he was in the wrong mood, well the feelings that rose up threatened to upend him. He couldn't function in polite society when he sampled those impulses. The power of them coursing through his veins. He could slit a throat without a second thought and step over the body. It terrified him.
He was in her room, on her bed at 3.45am. He had held her while she alternated between raging and crying. Held her down when she was determined to go to her father's house 'Right now! Dammit right now!". He had held her wrists tightly and backed her against the wall. Forced her to look at him. To calm down. To breathe. To think. This would have to be meticulous. Their survival. His survival. Their boy's survival depended on it. His presence was like a release valve to the tightly wound composure she had been holding. She could vent. She could rage. He could share the load now. Allow her space to plot their fucking downfall once and for all.
"You're not thinking clearly" he had chided
"Are you?" she shot back
"No….this is a considerable shock Melissa. I'm a father. The Centre has my child. And you, the woman I've….is his mother".
She didn't press him to finish the part which would expand on exactly what she was to him. She knew. She had always known. This invisable string tethering him to her since the dawn of fucking time had always made her know, made her feel it like the breath in her lungs, the blood in her veins. She ignored the use of her given name. She hadn't responded to that since he had hollered it after her in shock and confusion as she turned on her prim little heel more than two decades before. The departing kiss contained a literal slip of the tongue forever dooming the juvenile Jarod to a lifetime of pining and imprinted need that at times completely overwhelmed him. Sydney had once casually mentioned that unfortunately for him Miss Parker had been the yardstick to which all other females would now be measured. Some yardstick. Christ almighty. He took in her appearance now and blinked rapidly as she continued to stride back and forth at the end of the bed. Her fists clenched tightly, her hair flying. The short satin nightdress clung to her tortuously and Jarod found a micro second to marvel at the male brain and how even in moments like this she could turn him on like a light bulb. To his relief she pulled on a sweater. She had obviously at some lull in the ranting noticed his eyes tracking down her neck and collarbones to the swell of her breasts and hips. The way women had to navigate the world always impressed and depressed him. He wanted to tell her he was only this way with her. Only with her.
She felt sick again and pushed past him into the toilet but nothing happened. She ran the water and splashed some on her face.
When they eventually moved to the neutrality of the kitchen and he busied himself making a sandwich he had asked her her thoughts on feeding the infant herself.
The thought of it made something in her feel like it was going to snap and she felt tears escaping her eyes before she could stop them. He had offered her a lifeline. A chance of proper physical connection with her baby. This was something she could do. This was something she had to do. She had dismissed the idea of motherhood believing it would be burdensome. Make her weak. She was shocked at the power it had actually caused to run through her veins. The realisation that she would be capable of anything to protect her child. Her flesh and blood. The protectiveness was lethal she realised. It fortified not diminished her.
"Jesus Christ Jarod this is actually happening isn't it?" she had whispered.
Yes it was.
She approached the ranch and could see Jarod in the window, bouncing Michael in his arms. The boy was alert beyond belief. The little dark head snapping towards her as he sensed her approach. She was greeted with a gummy grin and the fist that was in his mouth now stretched out towards her.
"Someone needs a snack I think" Jarod murmured as he passed the boy over to her, their hands brushing. The baby began drawing his forehead back and forth across her chest and she slid her hand through his hair "Ok mister, lets get you some breakfast".
At five weeks he was holding his head up with no difficulty. His piercing blue eyes constantly tracked her and Jarod as they navigated their way through the early weeks of his existence. The drive to the hotel the night Michael had been delivered seemed never ending. Jarod expertly performing the C section himself in the bowels of the Center. Parker had gasped in awe, overwhelmed with emotion, pure love, as Jarod placed him into her arms, her blouse open to receive him against her chest. He allowed her two minutes exactly while he stitched up Brigitte and adjusted the drip of sedative in her arm. Brigitte wouldn't be found for almost two days. Go figure. Daddy never missed her. It had all ultimately been very simple. Jarod breached the Center the same way he escaped, this time with Parker and Broots assistance. Parker transported her child out of the Center in an oversized designer tote bag. When the CCTV footage was reviewed Miss Parker appeared as calm and regal as ever as she strolled across the lobby and into the parking lot. The child never made a sound. Lyle had smashed the monitor with his mobile phone.
"Find them" he had growled.
They had driven in silence for almost twenty minutes before either of them spoke. Jarod watching the road, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes flicked between the road and Parker and the bundle she held close to her chest. Jarod had only barely registered his dark hair and blue eyes when he delivered him so intent on doing the job and getting the hell out of there before they were foiled and now he craved to peer at him. He swung the black sedan into the underground carpark of a large chain hotel near Dover airport. He had booked them a room for the night complete with pop up crib that they wouldn't use as the baby slept on Parkers chest the whole night. Jarod had checked in earlier. Leaving them a bag filled with spare clothes, toiletries and baby gear. Parker placed the infant on the bed and allowed Jarod look him over.
His eyes filled with tears as he took the baby's hands and pulled him towards him gently, testing his strength. He laughed heartily as the boy passed with flying colours.
"Whoa there pal" he smiled as the baby gripped his fingers tightly. Jarod took his medical bag and checked the boy's eyes and ears and listened to his heart beat with a stethoscope. Parker watched anxiously and studied the boy's features as Jarod examined him. He was Jarod but with her eyes and she felt like she could split in two in any given second.
"He's perfect' Jarod said softly before lifting the baby to his chest and holding him close. He kissed his head gently as Parker sat beside him. She began unbuttoning her blouse. She had fed him for the first time in the car, the initial latch causing her to gasp in pain as he suckled furiously. Jarod watched in awe as the baby's little mouth sought her out. There was no awkwardness or hesitation. Neither of them was going to miss this. She wouldn't deny Jarod any moment with their child. A quiet stillness settled over them as the adrenaline began to fade and the baby settled. His fingernails dug into the soft skin of Parker's breast and she stared in awe as he curled his fingers possessively into her flesh. She met Jarod's eyes and he smiled, his eyes shining.
"You got competition" she whispered
"Story of my life" he whispered back "you think you can steal her away from me huh?" Jarod asked the baby as he smoothed his hair gently. Parkers heart pounded as Jarod watched her with the child. She felt his eyes study her breasts, her shoulders, her hair and she closed her eyes in overwhelm.
Jarod smoothed a hand down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
"You must be exhausted. You need to eat. You need calories for this"
He grabbed the room service menu from the bedside table and ordered them a selection of food. The baby finished feeding eventually and was sleeping deeply when she passed him to Jarod and made for the bathroom. She peeled the suit from her body, knowing in her bones she wouldn't wear one again for a long time. She stayed in the shower until the water was luke warm, the events of the past few hours replaying over and over in her mind. She needed to focus. They weren't home yet. There was another leg of the journey to go. Home. God. What was that going to mean. All Parker knew of what her new home was that it was attached to a working cattle ranch in Montana. Close to Yellowstone with wolves and bison for neighbours. Major Charles and JR, Jarod's clone would be their new housemates. She would be outnumbered in a house full of men. Jarod was going to fly a commercial airliner to Billings and she was to operate as a chaperoning Stewardess for a newly orphaned baby travelling to his grandparents. Jarod had been working for the Airline for three weeks now and had been bunking down close to Blue Cove on his rest days. He had continued to surprise Parker with a weekly nocturnal visit. The last one before he broke into the Centre to retrieve their child replayed in her mind as she let the water pound her back and shoulders. They had been saying goodbye. The next time he would see her would be in the Centre and they would be making a bid for freedom with their newborn child. He had embraced her impulsively. Holding her tightly against him for longer than he had intended. He had been unable to release her and she had responded in kind. Gripping him tightly and burying her face in his neck. His stubble delicious against her cheek. He had pressed his forehead tightly against hers trying to find the appropriate words for all he wanted to say. She had pressed a thumb to his lips, feeling the wetness of his mouth against the digit.
"Don't. Don't say anything Jarod…please. We can talk when we are safe. When we are all safe".
His hands had slid down the satin fabric of her short nightdress as he held her close, his fingers splayed against the small of her back, his thumbs involuntarily tracing circles against her impossibly soft skin, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. She could feel his restraint slipping, his body reacting to her and she stepped back, placing her palm against his chest gently, apologetically.
He reluctantly pulled himself out of her orbit and turned himself out into the night. His hands had left imprints on her neck and shoulder. She had felt herself tremble under the raw power and potential of him. Jarod was all hard muscle. His presence imposing and intoxicating. He had taken the air out of the room when he left.
The first night in the hotel Jarod barely slept. Their flight was at 6am and they would have to be in the airport by 4. Parker, refreshed from the shower fell asleep almost instantly, the baby pillowed on her breasts. Jarod took a quick shower and slipped, boxer clad, into the bed beside them, conscious of the baby rolling off her. He knew he wouldn't sleep anyway and contented himself with watching his new family. The child was perfection. Jarod studied his face. Still scrunched up from the horror of the brightness of the outside world. His eyes were hers and this thrilled him no end. But his own genes were imprinted on the babys features. He would have his strong jaw, his chin, his smile, his hair, his nose. He wished Parker had carried him. That they had conceived him together. That thought made him look her over again and his breath caught. She had always captivated him with her beauty but now. Now he was bonded to her in a way he never dared dream of and he longed to just touch her. To loose himself in her. At 3.12 am she whispered "You're staring" without opening her eyes.
"Can you blame me?" he murmured and took the child who was beginning to stir from her chest. She sat up and stretched before rubbing a hand along the child's back. The little noises he made stabbed at her heart as she finally understood how much her own mother must have loved her. Jarod settled him against his bare chest, tucking his little head under his chin and inhaled the smell of his downy hair. Revelling in the solid feel of him against his chest, Jarod allowed him grip a finger and he studied the little determined hands, soft but wilful. Just like Mommy. He smiled.
His eyes locked with Parker as she watched them in wonder. She was unable to look away at the sight of the infant nestled on the bed of hard muscle that was Jarod. Something primal was being unlocked in her as she observed Jarod bonding with their child. No one is going to take this from me she thought.
"Thank you" he whispered and she arched an eyebrow.
"For what?"
He shrugged a shoulder "Being you. Having great genes and giving me a beautiful boy. For feeding him. Nourishing him. Loving him".
She looked down at the sheets and smoothed the bedding with her hand "I wish I had given him to you Jarod. I wish you had given him to me….it kills me that she carried him….she felt his kicks…he heard her voice… not mine".
Jarod leaned forward "Hey….hey he knows you Parker. He knows us. You said it yourself. He called for you, sought you out".
She fed him again before she slipped into the sleek uniform of an air stewardess. Her nipples raw and sore now she let out a hiss of pain and Jarod flinched as he marvelled at her. She watched Jarod watching her as she pinned her hair up and began applying lipstick.
Jarod was buttoning the shirt of the pilot's uniform and winked at the baby who was in a pillow cocoon on the bed.
"Your Mom's a knock out kid".
"And your Dad ain't bad either" she said softly as she eyed him as he shrugged into the jacket "just don't tell him. He'll get a big head".
The gentle humour and teasing was like whistling in the dark as the tension creeped back into their bodies. He had all their ID sorted and had simmed everything at least a hundred times over. Still. Still his stomach cramped and he paced the room until Parker broke and insisted they just leave already.
The crack of thunder in the distance drew her attention back outside. The barn doors across the field were slightly ajar, and she could see a faint light flickering inside. She knew where he was. Jarod.
He'd been out there for hours, ever since the storm had started to roll in. It was his way of coping, of wrestling with the demons she knew all too well.
The tension between them had been palpable since they arrived at the ranch. The sanctuary was supposed to be a place where they could finally breathe, where they could start over, but old habits die hard. They had been on opposite sides for so long, their relationship an intricate dance of near-misses and unspoken desires. Now that they were free—now that there was nothing stopping them—she wasn't sure what to do with the space between them. The rain hit her like ice as she crossed the field, soaking her within seconds, but she kept moving. The barn loomed ahead, a silhouette against the angry sky. The door creaked as she pushed it open, stepping into the dim, lantern-lit space. The familiar smell of hay and wood mingled with the metallic scent of sweat and rain. Jarod was in the middle of the barn, his shirt off, muscles rippling as he threw punch after punch into the heavy bag hanging from the rafters. His movements were sharp, deliberate, the same focus he'd used for years to evade The Centre now turned inward. He didn't stop when he saw her. He didn't even slow down. For a moment, Parker just watched him, the air between them thick with the same unspoken tension that had always existed. Her eyes traced the lines of his back, the way his muscles flexed with each strike, the water dripping from his hair and running down his body in rivulets. He was beautiful, in a way that only Jarod could be—strength in a way that only Jarod could be—strength and vulnerability all wrapped into one.
"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep that up," she finally said, her voice cutting through the sound of his fists hitting the bag.
He paused, his breath coming in heavy pants as he turned to face her, eyes dark and unreadable. "I've been hurt worse."
Parker stepped closer, the rainwater dripping from her hair onto the straw-covered floor. She wanted to be angry with him, for shutting her out, for burying himself in this instead of talking to her. But more she wanted to close the distance between them, to finally give in to the pull she'd felt for years.
"You're not alone anymore, Jarod," she said, softer this time. "We're not alone. We have a son. We're free."
"Free?" he repeated, a bitter edge to his voice as he wiped sweat from his brow. "We're never going to be free, Parker. The Centre might be gone, but the ghosts—what they did to us—it's never going away."
Her heart clenched at his words. She hated that he was right. The scars ran deep, and her heart clenched at his words. She hated that he was right. The scars ran deep, and neither of them knew how to live without the chase, without the fight. But damn it, they had to try. For their son. For themselves.
"You think I don't know that?" she snapped, stepping closer until she was right in front of him, her body almost brushing against his.
"You think I haven't been fighting the same battles you have? Every day, I wake up wondering when it's all going to catch up to us. But we have to stop running from each other."
They walked back to the house in silence, the rain softening to a steady drizzle as they reached the porch. The warmth inside the house was a sharp contrast to the damp chill outside, but Miss Parker barely felt it. She was thinking about their son—theirson, as hard as it was to say sometimes. The baby they had fought so hard to protect, but who had, in the end, been born into a world of uncertainty and danger.
As they entered the small, cozy living room, Parker paused near the crib, her eyes tracing the sleeping form of their son. He was so small, so innocent, and she felt an ache deep in her chest—a mix of love and guilt, a storm of emotions she hadn't been prepared for.
Jarod watched her from the doorway, his sharp eyes catching the way her shoulders tensed as she stood over the crib. He'd seen that look on her face before. The guilt. The self-recrimination. He knew it all too well, because it mirrored his own. But for Miss Parker, it was different—more personal. Parker turned to face him, her blue eyes dark with guilt and frustration. She placed her hand on her chest, over her heart. "I've spent so much of my life chasing ghosts, chasing you, and now that we have him… now that we're finally together, I don't know how to be a mother. How am I supposed to make up for the time I lost?"
Jarod's heart clenched as he watched her struggle. He knew how hard this was for her. Miss Parker, the woman who had always been so strong, so self-assured, was unraveling in a way that made him ache for her. But more than that, he understood the fear, the uncertainty that came with parenthood. They had been conditioned for years to be soldiers in a war neither of them had asked for. Being parents—being a family—was something neither of them had ever been trained for.
"You don't have to make up for anything," Jarod said, his voice soft but firm Jarod's jaw tightened as he listened to Miss Parker's quiet confession, and something primal stirred deep inside him. The vulnerability in her voice, the fear that she wasn't enough for their son—it ignited a fierce protectiveness in him, a possessive need to shield her from the weight of her own guilt. She had carried so much for so long, fought so many battles, and now she was struggling with a new one—a battle against herself. He couldn't let her fall into that darkness.
He stepped closer, his body brushing against hers as he gripped her arms, turning her to face him fully. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his expression hard, resolute. "Don't you dare talk like that, Parker," he said, his voice low and commanding, laced with an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. His hands tightened on her arms, not enough to hurt but enough to make her feel the strengthfeel the strength behind them. "You are his mother. You are everything to him. And I won't let you think otherwise."
The possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable, and it caught Parker off guard. Jarod was always calm, always in control, but this—this was different. His grip, his voice, the way he stood so close, looming over her—it was like he was ready to fight off the entire world if it meant keeping her safe.
"I don't know if I can do this, Jarod," she protested, though her voice was softer now, her resolve wavering under the weight of his intensity. His fingers trailed up her arms, and she felt the heat of his touch, the way it sent electricity racing through her body. There was something raw in his gaze, something almost territorial as he looked at her. It was like he was claiming her, not just with words, but with his entire presence. Jarod had always been the hunted, always the one on the run, but now—now he was the protector, and Miss Parker could feel the weight of that protection in the way he stood so close, like a shield between her and the world.
"I'm not going to let anyone or anything make you feel like you're not enough," he said, his voice dropping to a near growl. "You belong here, Parker. With me. Withhim." His eyes flickered briefly toward the crib where their son slept before locking onto hers again, darker than before, more dangerous. "I won't let anyone take that from us. Not The Centre. Not your guilt. Not anything."
Miss Parker's breath hitched, the intensity of his words crashing over her like a wave. She had seen Jarod angry before, seen him driven, but this—this possessiveness, this raw, almost primal need to protect her—it was new. And she felt it stirring something deep inside her, something that had always been there, just under the surface. "Jarod…" she began, her voice faltering as she tried to process the way he was looking at her, the way his body pressed so close, like he was daring the world to come between them. He didn't let her finish. Instead, he closed the distance between them completely, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the heat of his skin through her clothes, the way his chest rose and fell with barely controlled breath. His lips hovered near her ear, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough, possessive, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I won't lose you," he said, his voice a fierce vow. "Not to The Centre. Not to fear. Not to anything. You're mine, Parker.Mine.And I'll tear apart anyone who tries to take you from me."
Her heart pounded in her chest at his words, and she couldn't deny the way they made her feel. For so long, she had been the one in control, the one who called the shots. But now, standing there, wrapped in Jarod's arms, she felt something shift. He wasn't just protecting their son—he was protectingher. Fiercely. Possessively. And it was as if the walls she had built around herself all these years were crumbling under the force of his intensity. For a long moment, she didn't speak. She just leaned into him, feeling the strength of his arms around her, the way his body seemed to form a barrier between her and everything else. The storm outside raged on, but inside, in Jarod's arms, she felt…safe. Claimed. "I don't know how to do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible against the storm. "Being a mother. Being...us."
Jarod pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still gripping her waist, his eyes softening slightly, though the intensity didn't leave them. "We'll figure it out," he promised, his voice still rough but now laced with something softer, something protective. "Together."
She nodded, though doubt still lingered in the corners of her mind, but with Jarod standing so close, his body practically vibrating with the need to keep her and their son safe, she found it easier to believe.
JR had embraced Parker without hesitation or any hint of reserve. Jarod watched him run towards the car in a gentle trot as their rental spun up the dirt road towards the ranch. Tyres spinning up dust in the late fall evening. Major Charles stood on the porch, his hands deep in the pockets of his blue jeans, his lips pressed tightly together. He hadn't been able to sleep. To breathe until he saw Jarod emerge from the car. He watched his son hurry to the passenger door and open it for Catherine Parker's daughter. Melissa Parker emerged gracefully, his grandson bundled tightly in her arms as she was hugged by JR. He watched JR reach for the baby and take him into his arms.
"Is this my brother or my son?" he asked Parker in wonder. Jarod stepped between them.
"Think along the lines of Nephew sport" Jarod said giving his shoulder a squeeze. JR regarded Jarod with some dismissal. He really resented the 'Sport'.
Jarod watched JR look Parker up and down.
"You look good" he announced in approval and Jarod again gripped his shoulder and turned him towards the ranch. Taking the baby who was now beginning to fuss Jarod passed him to Parker. Major Charles finally began to walk towards them. He reached Jarod first and they embraced for a long time. The Major slapping Jarod on the back repeatedly in relief.
He locked eyes with Parker and nodded before gripping her arms gently.
"Welcome Missy. Welcome. And welcome to this little fella here" he said softly as he gazed in wonder at his grandchild. Parker coloured at the use of her given name. Of course that's what he would call her. That's what her mother called her. What Jarod's mother had called her. Jarod winked at her and she shot him a warning glance that held no real threat.
The ranch was rustic in the extreme but warm and clean with an abundance of soft furnishings and plenty of logs for the wood burning stove. The Major had prepared rooms for Parker and Jarod and showed them both to their quarters which were across the hall from each other. He had even built a crib with his bare hands which brought tears to both Jarod and Parker. Jarod realised almost for the first time that of course he and Parker wouldn't be sharing a room. That no one had any inkling that they had any semblance of a relationship beyond hunter and hunted, mother and father to baby Michael.
That first day Parker had spent mostly in her room, sleeping and feeding the baby. Jarod settled in at the ranch, exploring and helping his father and JR with the horses. They rose at 4.30 every morning he discovered and were gone until late in the evening when they returned exhausted and hungry, falling into bed sometimes at 8pm.
It gave himself and Parker the privacy they craved to figure their way around this new thing called family. The change in circumstance was a shock to Parker to say the least. She was all soft curves and cashmere. No suits of emotional armour to hide behind. He could sense her struggling. Her hormones swinging as she developed a breast infection that he had to travel over two hours to get antibiotics for. Yet she persisted. She persisted feeding the child through the pain. This is my penance she thought. I deserve this she thought.
One evening as a storm raged outside she stood beside the stove warming her hands while the baby dozed in his crib. She heard the floor boards creak behind her.
"You look tired," his voice came softly, and she felt the warmth of his breath near her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I am tired," she admitted, the weight of the last few weeks catching up to her all at once. The running, the fighting, the overwhelming responsibility of being a mother—it was more than she had ever imagined. But in moments like this, with Jarod so close, she could almost let herself forget. Almost.
"I have something for you," Jarod said, stepping around her, his gaze steady and intense as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped package. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "What's this?"
"Open it and find out."
She took the package from him, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside was a small glass bottle filled with a rich, amber-colored liquid. The label was simple, but the scent that wafted from it was intoxicating—,an exotic blend of sandalwood and jasmine with a hint of vanilla. She recognized it instantly.
"Bath oil," she murmured, her fingers running over the smooth glass. The same scent he had used to tease her with years ago, when their paths would cross, and he'd leave her small gifts—little reminders of his presence, of the connection they shared but never acknowledged.
"I thought you might like it," Jarod said, his voice lower now, laced with something deeper, something that sent a pulse of heat now, laced with something deeper, something that sent a pulse of heat through her. "I made it for you in Montemartre".
"Paris" she whispered and he nodded once.
Miss Parker's eyes met his, and the air between them shifted, heavy with an unspoken tension that had always lingered just beneath the surface. Her pulse quickened as she held the bottle in her hand, the intimacy of the gift not lost on her.
He had chosen it deliberately, a reminder of the countless near-misses and stolen moments they had shared over the years.
"You always did know how to get under my skin," she said, her voice soft but teasing, her lips curving into a slow smile.
Jarod's eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of desire crossing his face as he stepped closer "That was never hard to do," he murmured, his fingers lingering just a moment too long against her skin, sending a trail of warmth down her neck.
She swallowed, feeling the intensity of his gaze, the way his presence seemed to wrap around her like the storm outside. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
"Take a bath," Jarod said suddenly, his voice rougher now, full of a quiet command. "Relax."
Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift. But the look in his eyes—possessive, protective—made her breath catch. He wasn't asking. He was telling her. And the part of her that had always resisted, always pushed him away, hesitated for only a second before giving in.
Without a word, she turned and walked toward the master bathroom, the scent of the bath oil lingering in her hand. She could feel Jarod's eyes on her, his gaze heavy as she stepped inside the dimly lit room. The deep, clawfoot tub was already filled with hot water, steam rising in soft curls. She smiled to herself—he had planned this.
She poured the oil into the bath, watching as it spread, the scent filling the room, thick and sensual. Slowly, she undressed, peeling away the damp layers of clothes until she was bare, the cool air of the bathroom brushing against her skin.
She sank into the water, letting the warmth wrap around her, the tension in her muscles slowly melting away. The scent of sandalwood and jasmine filled her senses, calming her mind even as the weight of Jarod's presence outside the door lingered in her thoughts.
The door creaked open softly, and she looked up to see Jarod standing in the doorway, his eyes dark and full of something that made her pulse quicken again. He didn't say anything as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on her, on the way her body glistened in the water, the soft candlelight casting shadows across her skin.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" she asked, her voice low, teasing, though the heat in her own chest betrayed the calm facade she was trying to hold.
Jarod's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Maybe," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Or maybe I'll join you."
Her heart skipped at his words, her body responding to the suggestion before her mind had a chance to catch up. She could feel the pull between them, the magnetic force that had always been there, but was now stronger than ever, now that there were no more walls between them.
"Then stop talking," she whispered, her eyes locking onto his, daring him to cross that line they had both been toeing for years.
Jarod didn't need any more encouragement. He moved quickly, peeling off his shirt and stepping toward the tub with a deliberate slowness that made her breath catch. His body, strong and lean, moved with a quiet intensity, and as he lowered himself into the water beside her, she could feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence filling the small space.
His hands slid beneath the water, finding her waist and pulling her toward him until her back was pressed against his chest. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a shiver down her spine, and she let her head fall back against his shoulder, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the moment.
For once, there were no games. No running. No chasing. Just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of the water, the scent of sandalwood and jasmine surrounding them like a blanket. Jarod's hands moved slowly, sensually, gliding over her skin with a tenderness that made her heart ache.
"You feel incredible," he murmured against her ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below it. His voice was a low, seductive rumble, and she could feel the possessiveness in his touch, the way he claimed her with every stroke of his hands.
Miss Parker exhaled slowly, her body melting into his, the tension she had carried for so long dissolving in the warmth of the bath and the intimacy of his embrace. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she let herself justbe—here, with Jarod, in this moment that was theirs and theirs alone.
And as the storm continued to rage outside, Miss Parker allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was a future for them beyond the chaos, beyond The water lapped softly around them as Jarod's strong arms held Miss Parker against his chest, his warmth seeping into her as the storm outside continued to rage. She felt cocooned by the heat, the scent of the bath oil, and most of all by the presence of the man who had always been just out of reach, always one step ahead. But here, now, there was no distance between them—just the closeness they had fought against for so long.
She could feel the rise and fall of Jarod's chest behind her, his breath steady and warm against the back of her neck, making her hyper-aware of every inch of him, of how intimately they were entwined. His hands, large and capable, glided down her arms, fingers splayed as though he was memorizing her through touch. The water amplified every sensation, every caress, until her skin hummed with an electric awareness of him.
"You're so tense," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl, as his hands slid down to her shoulders, kneading the knots that had built up over the weeks of running, fighting, and the weight of motherhood. His touch was firm but gentle, coaxing the tightness from her muscles, making her exhale a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Her eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the sensation of his hands on her. The tension she usually carried so tightly began to unravel under his touch, and she allowed herself, for the first time in what felt like years, to relax completely.
"You don't have to do everything on your own," Jarod whispered, his breath hot against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. His fingers dug deeper into her shoulders, massaging away the stress with slow, deliberate movements that bordered on sensual. "You don't have to carry it all."
Miss Parker's lips parted, her head tipping back slightly to rest against his shoulder, her body surrendering to the intimate massage. His words, so protective, so fiercely possessive, made something in her chest tighten—something vulnerable that she had always kept locked away. But with Jarod's hands on her, his presence surrounding her like the storm outside, she couldn't fight it anymore.
"I've always had to carry it," she whispered, her voice soft but tinged with the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. "I've never had anyone…"
Her voice trailed off, but she didn't need to finish the sentence. Jarod knew. He always knew.
His hands slid lower, gliding over her slick skin, down her arms, then slowly, teasingly, to the small of her back. He massaged her there, his fingers pressing firmly, working out the knots, but with a touch that was far more intimate than anything she had expected. Her body responded to him before her mind could catch up, a soft gasp escaping her lips as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, dipping lower until his thumbs brushed just above the curve of her hips.
"You don't have to do it alone anymore," Jarod said, his voice rougher now, filled with a tension that mirrored the storm outside. His hands spread across her waist, his thumbs tracing the lines of her body beneath the water. "I'm here, Parker. I'll always be here."
His words sent a pulse of heat through her, and Miss Parker felt the tension inside her shift from stress to something deeper, something that made her body ache in a way she hadn't felt in years. Jarod's touch wasn't just comforting—it was claiming her, in a way that made her heart pound and her breath quicken.
His hands continued their slow, sensual massage, his fingers finding every curve, every line of her body beneath the water, until he was no longer just massaging her back but exploring her with a tenderness that was almost unbearable. She could feel his breath against her neck, the heat of his body pressed so intimately against hers, and every touch felt like a promise, a vow that he would never let her go.
"Jarod…" she breathed, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water, but he heard it. His name on her lips sent a shiver through him, and his hands paused for a moment, his fingers resting on her hips as if he were fighting to maintain control.
Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing the curve of her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. "Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice raw with desire and something deeper, something protective and possessive all at once. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."
Before she could respond, his hands moved again, this time with more intent, sliding around to her front, gliding over her stomach, his fingers splaying across her lower abdomen. The intimate touch made her body tighten, her breath catching as she felt him claim more of her, his hands moving in slow, deliberate circles that sent ripples of pleasure through her.
His lips grazed her ear, and she felt the heat of him, the need in his voice when he spoke again. "You're mine, Parker," he said, his voice thick with possession, his hands caressing her in a way that left no room for doubt. "I've waited so long for this. To touch you like this. To feel you in my arms".
His fingers teased between her thighs beneath the water, making her gasp, her body arching involuntarily as he explored her with a touch that was both tender and demanding. Every caress, every brush of his hands felt like a promise, a vow that he would never let her go, that he would protect her, love her, in ways she had never let herself imagine. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed with difficulty as her brain noted the rough imprints of his fingers, large and calloused which were now sliding between her legs providing a friction so intense she thought she might pass out. Her brain couldn't believe this was happening as her body assured her it most certainly was.
Miss Parker's breath came in shallow gasps now, her body completely at his mercy as he continued to touch her, to massage her in ways that blurred the line between comfort and desire. She had never let anyone this close before, never allowed herself to be this vulnerable. But with Jarod—here, now—she couldn't hold back any longer.
Her head tipped back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrendered to him completely, her body melting into his as his hands continued their slow, sensual exploration. The heat between them was undeniable, and as the storm raged on outside, the tension between them reached a fever pitch, the air thick with desire and the unspoken promises that had been building for years.
Jarod's hands slid lower, caressing her intimately, his touch reverent but possessive, making her body tighten with anticipation. Every stroke, every caress felt like a claim, a reminder that she was his, that she had always been his, even when she had fought against it.
Her breath came faster, her body responding to his touch, to the way his hands moved over her skin with a familiarity that made her heart race. And when he finally leaned down, his lips brushing her ear once more, his voice was a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver of pure desire through her.
"I'm never letting you go," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his hands holding her possessively. "You're mine, Parker. Now and always."
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