Niki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
niki_chidon) wrote2008-02-14 05:36 am
niki_chidon) wrote2008-02-14 05:36 am
Valentine's Day Special
To celebrate Valentine's Day I decided to offer you some treats from my hard drive. Stories I never finished, shorties I never posted, chapters from longer stories I will finish one day, that sort of stuff (everything works on its own, don't ya worry, nothing to leave you hanging;). I had this ambitious plan to have something from all of my fandoms, to have something for everyone but... Oh well. Hope you enjoy!
Title: Animal
Author: Niki
Fandom: WWE
Pairing: None, was meant to be my first Batista/Randy Orton fic but never managed to finish it.
Rating: R for the language, I never got around to the sex part.
Genre: Slash
Disclaimer: Not mine. If he was, I'd have given him to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mizbhaven13 for her birthday.
------------
Animal. That's me. I tamed myself, hid in a suit, but it's still there. The core of my strength.
Some nights I just look around me, all these little people, boys and girls who adore me. I could reach out and break them so easy. So fragile. Like women. So frail. You need to be careful when holding them so that you don't hurt them.
I don't want to be careful.
Some nights it's worse than others. I couldn't be careful even if I tried.
I know what I need, but I don't always know where to go to find it. Celebrity has its downsides. I can't afford to be tomorrow's scandal. So I behave. Mostly. Unless I can find a place filled with desperate bodies, needing what I need, and disappear.
Whatever you might think, I'm not choosy. Fuck or be fucked, I don't care. It's just strength against strength. Not quite violence, not quite sex.
The show leaves me frustrated with yet another scripted loss, another opponent not quite on the skill level where I can use my full strength. Hate having to be careful. It's not that I *want* to hurt anyone. I just *need* to be able to use what I have, without having to worry.
Luckily we're in a city I know. I know where to go, and waste no time in getting there. No one will mind that I took no time to shower.
I don't even know if I'm gay, as such. I have no feelings for these people. I just know men can take what women can't. I know their bodies won't break so easily. I've never fallen for a guy. Never looked at one and thought he was attractive. I look at them, and know they can give me something I need.
Release.
-----------
Title: Rain
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairing: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Rating: U
Disclaimer: Do I look like George Lucas?
Rain
- - - - -
"I... how can I describe all that you mean to me, Han? You are... you are the rain."
"Rain? That's hardly... oh."
"Right. I could never view rain as these people do. A nuisance. For me... it is a miracle, a wondrous gift of life..."
"And also something you hadn't seen for the first two decades of your life."
"Like you, you mean? I saw it in my dreams, read about it, heard about it from off-planet visitors. But anything I imagined couldn't come close to the reality."
"We still talking about the rain?"
"From that grin I know that you know very well that we aren't."
"Come kiss me, then, farm boy."
- - - - - - - - - - -
Title: The Dream
Author: Niki
Fandom: Highlander: The Series
Pairing: Duncan Macleod/Methos
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I would give a lot for Methos...
Rating: U
Summary: Methos dreams.
Notes: The only Highlander story I have, or will ever have, I'm afraid.
--------- the dream -------
I know this is a dream. But I also know it's the 13th century, and you can't be here.
"You haven't even been born yet," I tell the Highlander tetchily.
"Aye, but I exist, don't I?" he smiles and moves closer. His clothing is anachronistic with the time, but I suppose mine is as well. I back down when he moves forward, but encounter a rough stonewall and cannot move any further. He stops right in front of me, touching me only with his radiating warmth and breath.
"You dreamt me," he whispers, very close to my ear.
"You wished for someone who would be good and idealistic enough to keep you honest. Someone who was good-looking enough to keep you loyal. Someone passionate enough to keep you feeling. Someone strong enough not to break - someone immortal, so that they wouldn't die on you."
He's very close now, pressing me to the wall, as I ponder on his words helplessly.
"No. No, Duncan..."
I wake up with a start. I half expect you to be there, to wake up to the sight of your brown eyes. But you're not here, you're in a wrong country, the wrong continent even, and... Or is it me who's in the wrong country? I should be where you are.
I had forgotten. Forgotten that old, heartfelt wish of centuries ago. Refused to see the Highlander for what he was.
Do I love you? Yes, yes, I think I do. I must. Why else would I have done the things I've done, started to open up, to feel? Do I want you? Gods, yes. You are so unlike Alexa, who was precious, but oh, so fragile. You wouldn't break. No matter how rough things got. No matter how rough we played. You won't go mad over the long centuries. You are too strong, too idealistic, too... too YOU.
I dreamt you. You were born to be mine. All the things you've done and seen and suffered happened only to make you the man you are now, the man I'm going to claim as mine.
I'm coming, Highlander. It's time. You've had four centuries to get ready.
------- epilogue ---------
Duncan looks around, as if sensing my presence. I've been trailing him through the empty streets for a while now. Finally he stops, and with his hand on his sword asks: "What do you want?"
"Everything you have to give," I reply, stepping to the light, "and then some."
- - - - - - - - -
Title: Free Day
Fandom: CI5: The New Professionals
Pairing: Sam Curtis/Chris Keel
Category: slash
Rating: 12
Disclaimers: People belong mostly to Brian Clemens and DWTV, although some occasional minor character is entirely mine.
Warnings: Toned down mush and happy relationship stuff
Notes: Written ages ago, was part of a series I never got done.
Summary: Tina 'Backup' Backus is bored on a free day and appears on Chris' door without warning.
Free Day
- - - - - - -
Backup throws the soft cover book she was reading away with a violent gesture.
She's *so* bored with love and lovers.
She has three days off, and this is the last of them. She's spent them like usually, long baths, reading books that do not remind her of her job - which would mean Mills and Boon and other mindless romantic crap, anything else might - but being a fast reader she has gone through more books than really is healthy.
And to top it all she had a double date with one of her friends yesterday, and while she was obviously very much in love with her companion, Backup had to entertain an idiot.
That does it.
Lovers suck, she decides, and with an effort gets up from her bed. Funny what few days of lazing about can do to you...
With decisive movements she dresses, and grabbing her mobile and keys heads out. She needs air. She needs company. She needs...
Then she knows exactly what she needs. It's Sunday afternoon. Sam and Chris are bound to be at Chris' downing beer and pizza and watching F1 from the telly.
Perfect macho crap that has nothing to do with either love or work. Perfect. And they *did* leave her an open invitation to join them at any time if she misses them too much on her leave.
She had merely snorted back then, but now she has to admit that it sounds pretty damn inviting.
She pauses to buy a six-pack of beer so she doesn't need to rely on their resources and then drives over to Chris'.
She grins as she encounters a pizza delivery girl on the doorstep, just about to ring the doorbell.
"I can take those, I'm going in there to help destroy them. How much do I owe you?"
The girl hesitates a second, then gives up and lets her have the pizzas. After she has gone Backup rings the bell, assuming a posture suitable for a delivery person.
It takes a while for someone to answer the doorbell, and when the door finally opens... she's staring at Sam's bare chest.
Sam. At Chris' door. Wrapped only in a sheet, holding a couple of banknotes in his hand.
"Backup! I thought it was our pizzas..."
"Well, those too... I came at the same time as them, and paid for them..." Backup automatically answers, staring at her friend.
Nope. Her logic can find no way to explain this. Besides the obvious.
"I decided to accept your invitation. I'm sorry, I should have called first..."
"No, it's okay. So, missed us?"
"No, well, yeah, kinda. I just... I was just so very bored with love and lovers I thought this place would be a refuge from that..."
Sam fights not to laugh. She blinks, too amazed to feel amused herself.
"Do come in. I can see you've prepared."
"Wha... oh, yes, the beer. You sure it's..."
"Yeah. Come on in, so I can close the door, I'm not really..."
"Oh, yes, sorry."
As they make their way to the stairs Sam pauses and shouts.
"Oy Chris! You decent? We got a visitor!"
Having heard the affirmative shout they make their way up, Backup still carrying the pizzas since Sam needs his both hands to keep the sheet up on his waist.
Upstairs they're greeted with the sight of Chris. He's wearing jeans that hang so low on his hips that they are obviously the *only* thing he's wearing, and leaning to the bedroom door frame looking as he's just woken up.
"Backup! Morning. Breakfast, too," he grins.
"It's three o'clock!"
"Yeah? About time to get up," Sam grins.
"So I guess breakfast in bed is out... Any particular reason you're here?" Chris asks Backup, and Sam answers with amusement-filled voice:
"She was fed up with love and lovers."
Chris laughs.
"Poor girl. You think you could go and put some clothes on, Sam?"
"Oh, yeah. Bite in on the pizza, and turn on the telly. I think the race is still on."
"You sure you don't want me to leave...?"
"Why, do you want to go?"
"I..."
"It's okay if you do," Chris says seriously, and pulls on a T-shirt he picks from the sofa.
"I mean, if you'd rather be alone..."
"You're always welcome, you know that. But if you find it... uncomfortable..."
"No, I... I don't think I've fully taken in all this yet. The fact you... you are... you..."
"Have a relationship? Are lovers? Are together? Share more than friendship? Are having an affair? Are dating? Are sharing a bed? Are courting, walking out, going with, going steady? Are PSSSLQ's? Are enamoured, in love, inclined to, sweet on, soft on, keen on, set on, stuck on, gone on, sold on, struck with, taken with, smitten, bitten, caught, hooked, charmed, enchanted, fascinated, bewitched, mad on, infatuated, besotted, crazy about, wild about each other?"
Sam appears from the bedroom, fully dressed, and recites his litany as he comes to stand behind Chris, and wrapping his arms around him pulls him against his chest, and rests his chin on his shoulder.
Chris laughs and raises his hand to his partner's hair to pull him to a gentle kiss.
"I *knew* I shouldn't give you that Roget's for your birthday!"
Backup stares at the men before her and realises how perfect they are together. How in love. How happy. They don't seem boring and clichéd like her book-lovers either. She smiles benevolently.
"Roget's is a thesaurus, right?" she clarifies.
"Oh, you guessed," Chris smirks, "Obviously it has an exhaustive lists on endearments as well. I never knew any living person would use words such as 'honeybaby', but if they print it in a dictionary..."
Backup laughs with them.
"Surely he didn't call you that?"
Sam and Chris share a long look, and laugh. "No. Not that."
Sam lets Chris go, and looking at the pizza boxes on the table says more silently:
"It also has dozens of words to name marriage, but hardly any to describe a relationship that the church and the government don't recognise. So we do understand if you want to... leave."
Backup is impressed by the eloquent way in which he puts it.
"I'm okay with it. Truly. Takes a bit of getting used to, but it doesn't ... disgust me or anything. Does Malone know?"
"After he witnessed our reunion after Chris had once again proven he's a tough bastard to kill, he had to stop pretending he didn't know and we had to stop pretending we didn't know he knew."
"So he's okay with it?"
"He's a realist. He told us that if our personal relationship was what made us 'so goddamn good a team', he could hardly punish us for it."
"More questions? Or can we eat?"
"What do we owe you for the pizzas?"
"They're on me. And here's beer. Since I don't think I'll ever get to arrange you a wedding or anything, you'll have to allow me to do *something* for my friends."
She stresses the word 'friend' and they understand what she means, and smile thankfully.
"We rather thought about holding a coming-out party," Chris grins.
"You didn't."
"No? It would be worth it, to see the expressions on all those macho idiots we have on payroll for some odd reason..."
"We're not talking about Creighton again, are we?" Backup smiles, since 'the boorish bastard' is a common target for their jokes and insults.
"That guy," Chris says with conviction, "needs a good fuck."
"I agree, but I hope you're not offering," Sam hits him lightly in the ribs with his elbow.
"I'm an honest man nowadays," he grins in return.
"No," Backup says seemingly in deep contemplation, "I think he needs a kick in the groin, and a bullet in his head."
"Wouldn't kill him. He keeps his brain elsewhere," Chris replies.
"And hands," Backup says dryly, having learned the hard way not to wear skirts when in an assignment with the rock ape in question.
"But I mean, really, " Chris comes back to the earlier subject, "he might get a heart attack out of shock if we're lucky."
"It *would* be worth it," Sam agrees.
"Honestly, would you be ready to..."
"To leave the damn cramped closet just to kill Creighton?" Chris grins.
"Absolutely," they answer in unison, and Backup laughs again.
"Can I arrange the party?" she asks innocently.
"We could call it a house-warming party," Sam says half-seriously.
"Oh, you moving?"
"'Moving in' more like."
"Yeah. He hangs in my corners all the time anyway, so we might as well make it official."
"Well, you know, his housekeeper died, and the poor boy really needs someone to look after him."
By the time the afternoon is over, Backup has laughed so much her sides are hurting. She's never seen her friends in this mood. It's like... a bubbling fountain of happiness. They're pure joy. And if it's due to their relationship, it should be made compulsory.
And if it really is what makes them so good at work... Well, they are good as individuals due to their training and skills, but as a team they're something else entirely. The thought brings an idea to her mind and she starts to laugh.
To the questioning looks from the men she explains as well as she can while still laughing.
"No... I just thought that... if your personal relationship really is what makes you so good a team," she pauses to laugh for a second, "I just started wondering if that was the reason the original 3.7 and 4.5 were as legendary..."
The guys laugh as well, thinking of the womanising reputation of Bodie and Doyle, the top team of their day.
"Malone knew them, you know. We really should ask him," Chris sniggers.
"I can just see you doing that," his lover replies.
"More beer anyone?"
Much later Sam and Chris call Backup a cab, and walk her to the door. The Canadian still giggles to their last exchange, but pulls herself together to thank them for the fun afternoon.
"And I'll keep that thing about Coming out party in my mind," she says, and waves them goodbye.
The men groan.
"You really want to arrange us a party. Any party."
"Of course. You're so sweet," she grins to them, and disappears into the cab.
Her faith in love and lovers has been restored. In the future when she needs a dose of mush, she decides, she won't retreat to Mills and Boon but spend a day with those two.
Working Title: The Good-morrow
Author: Niki
Fandom: The Pretender
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: 15 to be safe, 12 probably.
Pairing: Jarod/Miss Parker
Warnings: Fandom clichés!
Summary: Miss Parker is ready to think outside the box.
Notes: Somewhere around the 3rd season I veer off into my own universe. Around the time Thomas appeared but I'm... replacing Thomas. Also skipping the Jarod clone and Ethan. And IOTH never happened and will never happen. Mr Raines is not Parker's dad.
Further Notes: First chapter of a looong story (every chapter is a story on its own) I started writing when I was supposed to work on my Yuletide story.
--------- ------------- ---------------- --------------- --------------- -------------- -------------- ---------------
The Good-Morrow
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
---
Now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
---
John Donne: The Good-morrow.
Had she believed in such things, Miss Parker could have considered the oppressing dream she had had an omen for the day. As she didn't, the leftover mood from the dream was merely one more annoyance in her morning, with the flat tyre, throbbing headache, and a mysterious malfunction in all the percolators in her favourite coffee shop.
Still, none of that showed on her face as she strode in the Centre that Monday morning. Her burgundy suit was wrinkle-free, her face carefully neutral, and even the lack of greeting when entering Sydney's office as per his message was business as usual for her co-workers.
The object on the desk caused her to raise a half-hearted eyebrow.
"Another gift from the Science Fair Project, Syd?" she asked, sounding more bored than annoyed.
"Well, it must be from Jarod," Broots hastened to explain, "but I've yet to figure out what it actually *is*."
She opened her mouth to say something scalding, then decided not to bother, and looked at the... thing. No, she couldn't make sense of it either.
"Mail?"
"The usual. No note."
"Brilliant. Well, if you actually find out something useful, I'll be in my office."
Not that she had anything pressing to do in there either but at least she could dim the lights, send a grunt to get her some real coffee, put her feet up, and close her eyes for a minute.
The dream images returned when she closed her eyes. Something... grey, dampening, oppressive – like fog, all over... but not physical, more... mental. Menacing...
A sharp knock on the door made her drop her feet heavily on the floor. It didn't fit her image to be seen in that position.
"Come in," she said. Had to be the coffee. No one from her family or team would actually do something so plebeian as knock.
She was so distracted by the anticipation of caffeine that she actually nodded her thanks to the man, who blinked, confused, and made his escape.
Parker sat down again and stared out of the window, sipping the bitter liquid.
Three years. Three years of chasing after one man. Three years spent on one project; more than she ever had, ever since school (where getting the degree could be seen as 'one project'). Three years during which insane clues, pranks, and mysterious phone calls had all become normal, so much so that the tedium of her work made her...
...bored. Routine kills. Habitually being just a few minutes too late, repeatedly being a disappointment to her father, and being disappointed in him in turn as he ignored yet another important day in her life.
Finding out her mother hadn't killed herself as she always thought but was murdered? Discovering she had a twin brother, who just happened to be a psychopath who was eating girls when he wasn't too busy beating his wives to death? Daddy dearest marrying the scheming bitch of questionable virtue who had tried to kill him mere months before? Just business as usual at the Centre.
Of course, most of these revelations had been brought to her by Jarod. The lab rat. The genius. The infuriating prankster. The man who, many years ago, was the only friend she'd had besides her mother.
She hadn't thought of him in those terms for so many years. Had forgotten his existence, and the way those deep brown eyes used to look at her as if seeing her soul... well, maybe not forgotten but ignored all those memories, until he forced her to examine them again, brought them all to the surface.
She had hated him when her father forced her to come back and work for him in retrieving him. Something in that thought nagged in her mind. Why blame Jarod for that? Wasn't it her father who... Another thing she refused to think.
Her father, who had actually asked her to kill to clean up messes not of her making. And yet she would always believe him, even when proven, time after time, that he lied. And Jarod, who had – up to date – never lied to her always had to present evidence.
Made sense, one of them was her flesh and... but no. She wasn't even sure of that anymore. It seemed almost certain that Ben was her biological father. Besides, Jarod was her enemy.
Enemy... Adversary. A worthy foe to match wits against – if only he didn't always end up on top.
But... enemy? She had pointed her gun at him so often. Why hadn't she ever shot him? Just in the leg, enough to slow him down, to capture him? Why did he always call her when she needed... contact?
Why was he the only one who seemed to remember all the days that had meaning, all the things that mattered to her. And those he never ever used against her. He might give her the cold, lock her up, mislead her, lead her into a tropical storm... but those things she felt truly vulnerable about he never threw at her face.
With her weaknesses he was... gentle. With her pain he was... considerate. Is that what an enemy did?
Why did he, in those moments, sound more like... a friend?
Not that she had had much experience with friendships. When she was a child she had her mother, and Jarod. When she grew up... she had men she slept with. Some had to work for it, some tried to woo her, in various ways, and she ended up spending more time with them than just in bed – but she wouldn't call them friendships, still.
What did she have now? She spent most of her time with an ageing shrink and a timid computer nerd.
Here, in the privacy of her own space she could admit that she knew those two cared about her, more that her so-called family. And she cared about them, and would do much to protect them. Had even admitted as much to Lyle. 'Broots is more my brother than you'll ever be.'
Brother. She had prayed that the blood test would give her Timmy – Angelo – but the blind and insane destiny had given her Lyle instead. At least, having Angelo at the dinner table eating next to Brigitte would be amusing. She nearly smiled at the image. Nearly.
And, for a second, she had had to fear that Jarod might have been the other child her mother gave birth to. Jarod. A brother? No, please, no. Never a brother. After all, it would be quite disturbing (not to mention pathetic) to have shared your first kiss with your brother.
It was the first and last innocent kiss she had ever given a boy. The next one had been a few years later, and by that time... it was not innocent anymore. It was desperate, and fumbling, and led to lousy sex. She could still remember the eyes of the boy. Electric blue – the farthest she could get from the chocolate brown she did *not* think about. The sex got better. But she could never get back the first, disappointing, experience.
Not that she held faith with the mythical 'first time' that was meant to be magic. Sex was a skill. The experience got better with practice. Like coffee. No one likes coffee the first time they try it. And then, soon, they can't live without it...
Sex had been one way to feel warm, just for a moment, far away from home and hurting for the rejection of her father. Missing her mother but feeling guilty because she was supposed to think her weak and unworthy of her devotion.
And if her thoughts had touched on the boy that was his first crush? Maybe, fleetingly... but he was just a subject, nothing more than a rat in a maze, a bunny in the lab. Someone beneath a Parker.
How much of her father's lectures had she believed in, and how much of the thought patterns had just become accepted purely as self-defence against the too painful memories? She still couldn't tell.
The years chasing Jarod, getting to know him again through the people he helped, the things he left behind, the hurried phone calls... Cryptic, annoying, showing glimpses of the secrets he held... she wanted to hit him, tell him to stop playing games, and to... what, share?
Now that did make her smile, without warmth, without humour. She had taken it for granted that she would capture him, take him back to the Centre, and leave to her promised freedom. Now, she wasn't sure what she'd do with the said freedom, should her father actually keep his word for once.
Did it matter? Did anything? It was her job – her life – to bring Jarod back. Then she could leave, without looking back.
Did she even believe that anymore?
Did she believe it would, could, end? Routine kills. This routine might kill Jarod or her sooner or later. Would it make such a difference? She was dead already. Death, the absence of life.
She spent all her time in this twisted place that tortured children and had murdered her mother, her family took the concept of 'dysfunctional' to new levels, and... And the highlight of her week was seeing Debbie smile when she dropped by at Broots' to leave an important file.
She was so weary...
Again, a knock roused her from her thoughts, and she placed the remains of her cold coffee on the desk before turning to face her visitor. It was an excited Broots, summoning her to their side.
Stifling a sigh, she got up and followed him with legs made of lead.
"This better be good," she muttered, but with little acrimony. As long as it was even vaguely interesting, as long as it distracted her, just for a moment, from her uncommonly introspective thoughts, it would be worth it.
"It's a puzzle box!" Broots chirped, all fired up, glint of inspiration in his eyes.
Miss Parker had a fleeting vision of a little brother who had gotten a science set for Christmas.
Sydney's smile was indulgent when they reached the room, and Broots twittered on. Like the favourite uncle who had given that present... She shook her head visibly to get rid of these insane thoughts. Work.
For the next hour they followed little clues and leads from one opening to another, trying to figure out a way to reveal the innards of the foot by foot contraption. It felt too much like her life over the three years, Parker thought, getting more and more frustrated, until she finally took a heavy paper weight from the desk and smashed her way through the walls, without any regard to Broots' warning shout.
Inside, there was a hollow space with a piece of paper with just one sentence in Jarod's handwriting: "Knew you'd figure it out, Parker."
"That's *it*?" Broots pouted, and Sydney frowned, going through the remains of the box.
Parker was fascinated by the message. Had Jarod really thought she would solve the puzzle?
"Look, there's no other way to the inner compartment than breaking the wall," Sydney pointed out.
"Wow, you're right. So... he *expected* Miss Parker to snap and..."
"...think outside the box," Sydney finished, keeping a close eye on the woman still holding the paper.
"But... why? What's the meaning of this? What's the clue?"
"I'm sure it will all become clear in due course, Mr Broots," Sydney replied, distractedly. "Miss Parker..."
"Yes? I'm going home," she declared, marching out of the room, taking the note with her.
"Wait! What do you want us to tell Mr Lyle?" Broots' shout stops her at the door.
"The chemical composition of the material, I don't care. Think of something."
- - -
It came as no great surprise to Miss Parker to find Jarod at her house. As if he knew this was one of those times when she would not call a sweeper team over to drag him back to the Centre.
Fortunately for his state of not-being-shot he was not smirking, not even smiling, as he slipped into view from the shadows as Parker entered her home.
"Jarod," she acknowledged his presence with a weary word, and he offered her a drink.
That made her laugh. Perfect housewife, knowing exactly what she needed. She sat down on the sofa, sipping the drink. Part of her wondered why she trusted him not to drug her but she *knew* he wouldn't. Not now, not like this.
Jarod stood in the corner of the room, well away from the windows, and Parker took in his appearance as he looked at her.
He was wearing his habitual black leather jacket with black jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked... not older, as such, but much more mature than the innocent man who had ran away into the wide world. His new hair style fitted him perfectly, and Parker had to admit to herself what she had refused to address earlier, in her office. He looked good. Sexy. Dangerous. And yet, when one knew he would never hurt them... he was the perfect dream lover out of a trashy romance novel.
She downed the last of the drink, then leaned back against the sofa and sighed deeply.
"Are you ready to break the routine, Miss Parker?"
Bitter laugh, "I don't suppose that means you've come to give yourself up?"
"No, I'm afraid not," he smiled, and that smile... it was not the mocking one, nor the smug one, nor the... No, it was the unguarded smile he gave to his friend, all those years ago.
And she felt... comfortable. Safe. Relaxed. Even after all of the years of hate, fear, bitterness, acrimony... his presence was the one that made her feel comfortable.
"No, I didn't think so," she replied, softening on her face almost a smile.
"I have new information I thought to share with you."
"Cryptic half-clues that leave me hunting for evidence?" she asked, warily.
"No. Not this time. This is too important."
He sat down on an armchair, next to her. "I found my father. He did not shoot your mother."
She considered not believing him but... what would be the use?
"You're taking his word for it?"
"Yes. He has no reason to lie. They knew each other, you know. My parents, your mother."
But of course they did. Nothing in the Centre was a coincidence, nothing in their lives so far had been one.
"Catherine was trying to help him rescue me, and he, also, got shot during the attempt. Maybe Fenigor saw wrong, maybe he lied. We'll never know. But the man who shot my dad was Mr Raines. And he took his gun."
"Why didn't he try to save you again?" Miss Parker frowned, "if he knew where you were?"
She saw instantly that the thought hurt Jarod. Naturally he would have had asked that himself. He was a genius after all. No aspect of the situation would be left unconsidered.
"They – for my mother was still around then – thought I had been transferred out. That I would be killed if they tried something without inside help. That... that they could protect themselves and my sister better if they didn't try..." his voice died out, and he bent his head.
Miss Parker rested her hand on his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, " she whispered.
They sat like that for a moment, then he seemed to get himself under control. Somehow Parker knew that he had never let anyone else see how this had affected him, would never let anyone else see his vulnerable moments. Knowing Miss Parker would not use them against him.
"This is not why I am here," he said, touching her hand, indicating the whole scene of offered and accepted comfort.
"I have something to give you. Please keep in mind that I only withheld this from you to protect you. You did not need to know all this... not before you were ready to accept it. Some of what's in here I have been able to verify, and have only ever offered to you with proof. Please, Parker... remember. Not out of cruelty, but kindness."
He took a red book from his pocket, not like the notebooks, a journal bound in leather... with her mothers name in gold on the cover. He was gone before she had gotten over the shock.
Then came the anger. Her mother's journal! He had had it for God knows how long and had not shared it with her! Forget never lying to her – withholding something of this magnitude...
Where had he got it? From her mother's safety deposit box? From her father? ...he had kept the letters, he would have had no compunctions in keeping the journal from his daughter as well. To protect her? Or himself? Jarod had claimed to have been protecting her.
She did not need protecting, goddammit! She only needed the truth!
- - -
Hours later, chocking on tears, she was ready to admit she hadn't needed *this* much truth.
It was all there. Her mother's pain in being trapped in a loveless marriage, her conviction that Ben – her breath of fresh air once a year – was the father of the desperately wanted child, her joy of finding out she is expecting twins, her pain at the death of the other child, her joy at the development of her little girl... Her fear and agony over what she found out was going on in the Centre...
The leather-bound book with its gold lettering had obviously been something special to her, she had only written a few entries each year when something especially good or bad happened. From some things she wrote Parker concluded she kept other journals, including a baby book on her. She wondered whether Jarod had those too. She wondered whether it mattered.
She winced the first time she read about the physical abuse her mother had endured at the hands of her husband.
If I thought you were in danger, my daughter, I would run, now. But at least he adores you. At least you are safe. And I can bear this a little while longer, just a little... I must save the other children, too, not just you. You do see that, don't you? I have to take Timmy and Jarod with us, and all the others! If only we could locate Maggie and Charlie. But they seem to have disappeared from the face of the Earth. Mr Fenigor will find them, I'm sure. And then... and then...
That was the last entry.
And then... Then she had died.
No wonder Jarod had said Mr Fenigor would hold the key to both of their pasts. Had he helped her mother, or betrayed her?
After reading the journal, Miss Parker was ready to admit Jarod had been right. She hadn't been ready for what was in the book. It would have been too much, all at once. Three years ago, when she had still thought her mother had killed herself? She would not even have believed in the book, but claim it a forgery.
Finding out about Ben by meeting him, the fact she needed to work through the identity of her brother herself... as much as she hated being manipulated she had to admit Jarod had, once again, known what was best for her, how much she could take at a time. And he had never presented her with any clues without evidence, protecting her from the wild goose chases he must live through all the time.
It really was true: her only real friend was her enemy.
- - -
It was late when she finally moved from the sofa, clutching the precious book in her hands. It did not surprise her unduly to hear Jarod's familiar voice behind her.
"Hey..."
She turned to look at him, taking in his wary expression. He wasn't *quite* sure how she was going to react to his presence but confident enough in his ability to read her that he didn't fear he was going to get shot.
"It's okay," she whispered, a bit inconsequently, trying to put him at ease.
"I brought food," he said, presenting a bag of Chinese take-away, and suddenly she was more than happy to have something as mundane as food to think about after the emotional roller-coaster the reading of the journal had been.
They shared the packages in companionable silence, and it took ten minutes for Parker to realise this was a first meal they were sharing, ever. Well, one that didn't involve Cracker Jacks. She shared the thought with Jarod, smiling, and got a laugh as a reward.
"No Cracker Jacks, sorry. I've got Pez, though," he smiled innocently. Too innocently.
"Jarod, thank you. You never... You... I can't imagine how much work you have put into finding proof about my past when you could have been working on your own."
"I had time to do both," he shrugged, and went on before she could call him on belittling his work. "Besides, lot of that stuff only makes sense now that we have the evidence. Like Ben. Then again, had she not expressed her belief that he was the father I would not have believed that – first time mothers expecting twins rarely carry their children to full term but..."
"Well, you're the doctor," she said, smiling a little, refusing to dwell on her parentage.
"Not today," he replied, in a way that told her it was a private joke. Pretender humour.
"When I first read that last entry, I didn't know she was talking about my parents. Only when I found out their names from other sources did I connect the dots."
"Maggie and Charlie," Miss Parker realised.
"Margaret and Charles," his smile was happy, for a moment. Maybe they had felt more real to him after they got names.
"Wait, you met your father. So you know your real name now."
Now his smile was positively radiant as he nodded. She couldn't help but beam back at him, "What is it?" she asked, before the implications came to her mind.
"No, don't tell me. I might... use it against you. Tomorrow... I have to go back to work. And try to capture you." There was no life in her voice.
How could she? After all that he had done for her? All that he had given her? But then, how could she not?
"My full name is Jarod Sean Mallory."
His trust felt like a hit to solar plexus. How could he... he had a name! She couldn't help but share his excitement, his happiness. But the tears in her eyes were not only of joy. "Oh, Jarod, why do you have to believe in me?" she whispered.
He smiled at her tenderly, his heart in his eyes. Her only friend. Her first love. He never left, she did. He tried, and tried, and tried, and she didn't let him through because she had believed there was nothing inside her to reach.
But blow by blow he had stripped off her armour, bunny by ring, call by look, until they were here... exposed, bleeding...
Her numbness today had been the final draw, when she couldn't even find strength to believe in her work anymore, the only way she could turn was past, the presence that had kept her strong in the Centre as a child, and the future, because the boy was a man now, but equally willing to offer his protection, warmth, faith, and... heart.
She was crying again, and didn't care, as she reached for him blindly. It was the first hug she had gotten since the weekend Debbie had spent at her place, and it was as innocent as that had been.
They clung together in comfort, in recognition, in an act of redefinition or rediscovery. This was Jarod hugging his friend.
But its innocence wasn't enough for Miss Parker anymore. She pulled back, and reached for his lips. He was right there with her, moving the last inches so that their mouths could meet, kissing her with abandon.
It was wild, crazy, passionate, and so very, very right Parker could only dizzyingly wonder why they had not done it before. When they pulled back, her mind cleared enough to realise why they hadn't.
But none of those reasons mattered anymore.
"Love me, Jarod. Make me feel warm," she begged, and he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her trembling body against him.
"I love you," he whispered in her hair but the words were superfluous. Of course he loved her, how else could he have this endless faith in her?
She couldn't say the words back, not even sure what they meant, what they meant for her – she just knew that hearing them from Jarod made her wildly happy, glowing inside, knowing she could face anything. Even her work. Still she was shaking.
"Hush," he was whispering, rocking her like a baby until she calmed down.
"Stay with me," she whispered, not able to bear the idea of him leaving. She knew he had to, come morning, it wasn't safe to stay. But if he went away know, she might slip back inside her armour and never even care enough to find her way out.
"Always," he whispered, carrying her up to her bed.
- - -
They did not make love. They held each other, sometimes talking, sometimes dozing off for only a moment – neither one was used to sleeping so close to someone but they seemed unable to let go of each other for long enough to actually sleep.
"I... am vulnerable now, Jarod. I won't always be this accommodating," she warned, knowing he would have a hard time in the future, should he want a relationship with her. A relationship! The idea was both scary and exhilarating. Pure madness, of course. It would most likely get one or both of them killed.
But she would be damned if she could abandon the warmth of his embrace to the cold determination the Centre – her father – expected of her.
"You wouldn't be you if you were," Jarod smirked, but right now it failed to irritate her. Then he turned serious. "Is that what you want? A... relationship?"
"Don't you?"
"Yes!"
"Then yes, that's what I want. I don't know how but..."
"I don't care how, we'll think of something. All I really care about is that I can finally see *you* again. I've been watching... and waiting... and digging... at first, it wasn't even conscious. I didn't realise... Until I faced the real world, I couldn't even have named what it was I felt towards you."
"Oh, is that the excuse for the other girls," she grinned to show him he was kidding.
"I have always relied on the kindness of strangers," he quoted, and that obviously meant something for him.
"Educational?"
"Extremely. I worked in an escort agency once."
"You WHAT?" she spluttered.
"I have to admit I mostly handled my customers... in other ways," he explained, bashfully. "You'd be surprised at how many women just need someone to listen to them. So much so that they're willing to pay for it."
"That's how the shrinks live, Wonderboy. What was the agency? If they have more men like you, I know where to call the next time I feel like... talking."
"Over my dead body, Miss Parker," he growled, only half-joking.
"Possessive, are we?"
"Apparently," he laughed, ruefully. "I think I need to warn you... I've... never been in a relationship before."
"Me neither, not in a way we mean."
"So I guess we'll have to learn together."
"How did you know I was ready?"
"I'm... not sure. I've been seeing and hearing the tiny tears in your armour. And... And I sent the thing today to show that to you too. You are ready to break the pattern, you are ready to search for new solutions. And... I just hoped... they would include me."
- - -
It was almost morning when they forced their minds back to the real world and real issues.
"I have to go back tomorrow," she said quietly.
"I know," his voice was equally quiet.
"I have to be Daddy's little girl and a well-behaving Centre tool."
"And I have to stay outside, looking for the answers... for both of our pasts."
"I can't... be... without you anymore, Jarod. I won't be this person without you."
"You're stronger than you believe at this moment, Parker, you don't really need me. But as long as you *want* me, I'm here. If not physically, then," he placed his hand over her heart, "in here."
"You're wrong. I *do* need you. Mind you," she said in a sudden flash of insight, "I might not admit it after this." She smiled. "But never doubt that I do, in fact, need you very much."
- - -
On surface, the Miss Parker that walked into the Centre the next morning did not differ from the yesterday's version. Her suit was as immaculate, her face as carefully neutral, and her manner no kinder.
But this morning she had had no dreams, her coffee had been prepared by Jarod, and served with a kiss, and she had smiled all the way to work. Not that she could ever show the smile. She couldn't afford to act any differently, could never give anyone cause to suspect...
Had it really happened? It felt unreal. As if she was a completely different person from the one who woke up yesterday. Well, in a way she was. She was the little Miss Parker now, more than the Miss
Parker she had grown up into.
As such, she was extremely vulnerable at the moment. She would need to built up her defences so that she could function in the Centre environment but she did not want to disappear behind them again.
"Morning," she mumbled to Sydney and Broots, even though she felt like giving them a hug.
"Morning, Miss Parker. Is everything okay?" Sydney asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"You left... quite abruptly yesterday."
"I had a headache. Sue me. Did you discover anything in the wreckage of the box?"
She knew they would have found a logo and a serial number that would lead them to a factory near Detroit. And, thanks to Jarod, she knew a good hotel.
She let Broots explain his discoveries and his detective work, all the while planning how to keep Lyle from attending the excursion. It would make everything so much easier for them.
"Fine, book the flight, find some accommodation, the usual. We'll leave as soon as..."
"Leave where, sis?"
Lyle was almost as bad as Jarod in that sneaking thing.
"Detroit," Parker explained in a bored voice. "Another wild goose chase."
"I see," Lyle said slowly, staring at the remains of the plastic monstrosity on the desk. "Well, I have no time for that right now, I'm working on a project for dad."
He left, and Parker stared after him through narrowed eyes.
"Should we worry?" she asked from no one in particular.
Sydney was looking at the door as well.
"I don't know... He seems... uninterested in the possibility of catching Jarod."
"Ha, what are our chances anyway?"
"Well, I don't know. He can't have known that we would solve the puzzle so easily, it would have taken hours to..."
"Whatever, Broots. We have to go regardless of what we believe. Go home, pack. Meet me at the airport."
She thought about a phone number she was given last night, the most precious treasure she could think of at the moment. But no, no need to call. Jarod would know they were coming, the way he always knew. He would be ready.
And maybe he could shed light on the mystery of Lyle's lack of interest. 'A project for dad' sounded very worrying.
- - -
"Jarod? You mean Jarod Holmes? He worked for the security department, and uncovered a long-standing problem of wilful neglect in safety measures in multiple parts of the factory."
"But of course he did," Miss Parker muttered, not wholly to keep up with appearances.
"Worked?" Sydney clarified.
"Yeah, he didn't show up at work yesterday. Turns out he was only hired as a temporary consultant, and the new..."
"Yes, yes, that's all very well. Did he leave anything behind?"
"Just some stuff in his office. He said he'd send someone to clear it out."
Sydney started laughing at that.
"Great, now we're his clean up crew!" Miss Parker huffed, though, internally, she had to admit she wanted to laugh too.
"Sam, this should be right up your alley," she smiled sweetly at her tame sweeper who looked pained.
Jarod's office was actually pretty empty but for the objects on the table, including the ubiquitous red notebook. Miss Parker made a mental note to ask Jarod where he got them, and whether he ordered them in bulk – and if so, where did he store them?
According to the newspaper clippings, he had been alerted to the problems in the company when a worker died of her injuries and her spouse and child were left without compensation because it was deemed her fault.
"Right. You know the drill, Broots. Sweep the room for any clues, and try to find where the Wonder boy bunked this time. I'll be at the hotel."
- - -
The sight that greeted her in her hotel room took her breath away.
"Taking risks, aren't we?" she smiled at the black-clad figure lounging on the bed. "What if I hadn't been alone?"
"What, you weren't dying to get alone so that you could call me?" his smirk would have irritated her on any other day, but as it was, right now she was just dying to kiss him.
It was a slow, leisurely kiss, a greeting, a confirmation that nothing had changed since yesterday, since this morning. He held on to her arms gently.
"Hi," he smiled.
"Hi," she smiled back. "And, to answer your question, no it wasn't."
"No?" obviously, he didn't know whether to be hurt or amused and decided to wait for the punchline before reacting.
"No. I knew you'd find me."
Apparently, he was happy with the reply because his face started beaming.
"Just for the record, how *did* you find me? Broots took care of the booking."
The smirk was back. "I follow your expense accounts," he whispered conspiratorially. She laughed out loud, so much for the Centre security.
That reminded her of the earlier question about the red notebooks.
"They are the same type I used at the Centre. So I order them from the same supplier. The Centre pays for them," he explained, grinning.
"Damn," she whispered. Shouldn't Broots notice these things?
"You know all my secrets now, Parker, what are you going to do with them?"
"Surely not *all* of them," she purred.
Last night had been about comfort. Today, she wanted – needed – something else.
"Parker!" this time his voice was free of humour, instead laced with passion, and desperation, as she moved closer, and wrapped her body around his. His grip on her arms tightened.
"Won't the others..." he swallowed when she kissed his neck, "be... here soon?"
"They have no reason to enter my room. It's late. Whatever they find, we won't be able to fly out until tomorrow."
"If you're sure..." he mumbled, and gave his full attention to her actions.
He bent his head to claim her lips again, and this time the kiss was full of passion and hunger; the culmination of years of longing, and she answered with everything she got.
He started steering her towards the bed, getting rid of first his own coat, then hers, and battling with her hands to remove their shirts... when a knock on the door made them freeze.
"Then again," she whispered, panting, frustrated, and he laughed softly, dropping a soft kiss on her sweaty forehead.
She pulled away from him, watched him pick up his coat (mmm, nice ass), and disappear to the bathroom. A quick look in the mirror revealed her ruffled state, and she hastily buttoned her shirt, and sleeked her head back. Nothing to be done about her red cheeks, glowing eyes, or achy lips.
"Yes?" she barked at the two men after opening the door.
"Are you okay, Miss Parker? You look a little... feverish."
She groaned inside her head. You bet I feel feverish!
Sydney took in the crumbled bed covers and the coat that lay abandoned on the floor. "Are you ill?"
What to do? She wouldn't ever admit to being ill if she really was but it would be a perfect excuse. She rubbed her forehead wearily, as if nursing a headache, and asked in a overly-patient voice, "Did you just stop by to ask how I was feeling?"
"No, we found Jarod's apartment."
"Whoop-de-do. Any clues?" still that fake-calm voice her team should recognise. Only now it was hiding quite a different emotion from the usual.
"Books," Sydney replied, still looking at her in a searching manner.
"On?" she prompted.
"Poetry. You name it, it was there. Contemporary, historical. Rhyming, modern, epic."
"What, the lab rat decided his education was lacking?"
"Well, he could have just been bored... but I would think they would have something to do with his next pretend. A writer, perhaps? A teacher?"
"We already know he has one published book... ummm..." Broots couldn't meet her eyes after reminding her of the romance novel Jarod had written.
"Yes," she said slowly, "we *all* remember that, don't we. Fine, tomorrow, we start looking for him in schools and universities. For now, go to sleep. And I hope your room isn't right next to mine, because you snore!"
"N-no, we're at the other end of the corridor..."
"Good night, Miss Parker," Sydney said politely, "we are in a room number 309 if you feel ill."
"You share?" she frowned, not really caring, as long as they were not in a position to hear any accidental sounds she might make if properly motivated.
"Whatever." She shook her head before they had time to reply, and led them to the door. "Night." She said decidedly, and had to fight not to slam the door in her haste.
"Feverish?" a deep voice next to her ear asked, and she leaned back against his warm body.
"Mmm, you're burning up."
"No worries," she whispered, rubbing her body against his and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. "I know a good doctor."
- - -
It was as she would have thought – technically, physically, and emotionally very fulfilling.
"I'll give you a reference if you ever want to work as an escort again," she muttered against his sweaty chest, holding him close. Then opened her eyes, realising the implication, and raised her head to look him in the eye.
"Of course, if you ever sleep with another woman, I would be forced to shoot them."
"Possessive, are we?" he echoed her words from last night, but there was an endearing glint of insecurity in his eyes.
"Like you have no idea," she whispered, and kissed him softly.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, after she had settled against his chest again, running lazy circles on her exposed skin with his free hand.
"Rest, and do that again," she suggested, smiling.
"I meant... generally."
She sighed, not willing to let reality enter the bed just yet. "You pretend and run, and I pretend to chase."
"There must be something more to life than that."
"I know. I want to... keep seeing you. But I don't want to get you dead. Hell, I don't want to get me dead."
"I don't want to do anything to risk you. Well, besides the obvious. I don't think I could pretend not to want this anymore," he confessed huskily, momentarily tightening his hold.
"Tomorrow... I have to go back, and you have to go... recite poetry or something," she smirked, trying so very hard not to ask.
"Should I tell you?" he asked, quietly.
Again she moved so that she could look him in the eye. He was being completely serious.
"It could be dangerous," she whispered.
"If you were to betray me... do you think I would care about anything anymore? Even about being back there?" his voice told her he didn't really suspect she'd do something like that, and again, the absolute trust he had in her took her breath away.
"No. No, that's not what I meant. It's the Centre. They have their ways. If they suspected I knew something..."
He smiled slightly. "You guys will find me, again."
"But when? Will you be gone by then? And if you start hanging around just to see me... you'll get caught, by Lyle or... Lyle!" she had completely forgotten.
She told Jarod about the discussion before they had left for the Centre.
"Don't worry. My fault. I laid some additional traces for him to find. Apparently, he didn't want to share the honour of trapping me. I wanted... I needed us to have the best privacy possible before we could work things out."
"I can't risk calling you too often. They could be listening to my phones," she said sadly.
"And I can't risk saying much when calling you at home, I know. We'll... think of something. I'll get you a device with which you can sweep your own house and car for bugs regularly. And... well, I'll keep an eye on you. We'll think of something," he repeated.
"I hope so. I... don't think I can be me without you," she admitted quietly. "It wouldn't take long for the Centre to... acclimatise me again."
"I won't leave you, Parker. Not ever." He was silent for a while, then sighed. "I wish we could just... disappear."
She smiled wistfully. "We'd never find the answers we seek that way. About our mothers, about the Centre."
"You do know I'm working on taking the whole Centre down, as soon as I get what I want from out of there? And in case you were wondering, yes, you and Sydney and Broots and Angelo are among those things."
"Broots too, huh?" she smiled, not commenting on his plans otherwise. It was not like she'd mind, anymore.
"I respect him," he replied, seriously.
"Even I admit to certain fondness towards him," she said casually, "and Debbie needs him."
He smiled widely. "I'm so happy you let her past your defences."
"You knew about that?"
"I've been keeping an eye on you, Parker. I don't plan to stop. Hope you don't mind."
"My own personal Guardian Angel."
"Always. And... I would find it hard to stop... helping people."
"I know. I wouldn't want you to. It's part of who you are. And I care deeply for who you are."
That was the closest she could get to a declaration of love. She... felt it but couldn't find the courage to say the words. He smiled tenderly, as if understanding.
"One day, I'm going to ask you to come with me," he promised quietly.
"One day, I might ask you to take me away," she promised in return.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
More V-Day goodies
Title: Animal
Author: Niki
Fandom: WWE
Pairing: None, was meant to be my first Batista/Randy Orton fic but never managed to finish it.
Rating: R for the language, I never got around to the sex part.
Genre: Slash
Disclaimer: Not mine. If he was, I'd have given him to
mizbhaven13 for her birthday.------------
Animal. That's me. I tamed myself, hid in a suit, but it's still there. The core of my strength.
Some nights I just look around me, all these little people, boys and girls who adore me. I could reach out and break them so easy. So fragile. Like women. So frail. You need to be careful when holding them so that you don't hurt them.
I don't want to be careful.
Some nights it's worse than others. I couldn't be careful even if I tried.
I know what I need, but I don't always know where to go to find it. Celebrity has its downsides. I can't afford to be tomorrow's scandal. So I behave. Mostly. Unless I can find a place filled with desperate bodies, needing what I need, and disappear.
Whatever you might think, I'm not choosy. Fuck or be fucked, I don't care. It's just strength against strength. Not quite violence, not quite sex.
The show leaves me frustrated with yet another scripted loss, another opponent not quite on the skill level where I can use my full strength. Hate having to be careful. It's not that I *want* to hurt anyone. I just *need* to be able to use what I have, without having to worry.
Luckily we're in a city I know. I know where to go, and waste no time in getting there. No one will mind that I took no time to shower.
I don't even know if I'm gay, as such. I have no feelings for these people. I just know men can take what women can't. I know their bodies won't break so easily. I've never fallen for a guy. Never looked at one and thought he was attractive. I look at them, and know they can give me something I need.
Release.
-----------
Title: Rain
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairing: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Rating: U
Disclaimer: Do I look like George Lucas?
Rain
- - - - -
"I... how can I describe all that you mean to me, Han? You are... you are the rain."
"Rain? That's hardly... oh."
"Right. I could never view rain as these people do. A nuisance. For me... it is a miracle, a wondrous gift of life..."
"And also something you hadn't seen for the first two decades of your life."
"Like you, you mean? I saw it in my dreams, read about it, heard about it from off-planet visitors. But anything I imagined couldn't come close to the reality."
"We still talking about the rain?"
"From that grin I know that you know very well that we aren't."
"Come kiss me, then, farm boy."
- - - - - - - - - - -
Title: The Dream
Author: Niki
Fandom: Highlander: The Series
Pairing: Duncan Macleod/Methos
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I would give a lot for Methos...
Rating: U
Summary: Methos dreams.
Notes: The only Highlander story I have, or will ever have, I'm afraid.
--------- the dream -------
I know this is a dream. But I also know it's the 13th century, and you can't be here.
"You haven't even been born yet," I tell the Highlander tetchily.
"Aye, but I exist, don't I?" he smiles and moves closer. His clothing is anachronistic with the time, but I suppose mine is as well. I back down when he moves forward, but encounter a rough stonewall and cannot move any further. He stops right in front of me, touching me only with his radiating warmth and breath.
"You dreamt me," he whispers, very close to my ear.
"You wished for someone who would be good and idealistic enough to keep you honest. Someone who was good-looking enough to keep you loyal. Someone passionate enough to keep you feeling. Someone strong enough not to break - someone immortal, so that they wouldn't die on you."
He's very close now, pressing me to the wall, as I ponder on his words helplessly.
"No. No, Duncan..."
I wake up with a start. I half expect you to be there, to wake up to the sight of your brown eyes. But you're not here, you're in a wrong country, the wrong continent even, and... Or is it me who's in the wrong country? I should be where you are.
I had forgotten. Forgotten that old, heartfelt wish of centuries ago. Refused to see the Highlander for what he was.
Do I love you? Yes, yes, I think I do. I must. Why else would I have done the things I've done, started to open up, to feel? Do I want you? Gods, yes. You are so unlike Alexa, who was precious, but oh, so fragile. You wouldn't break. No matter how rough things got. No matter how rough we played. You won't go mad over the long centuries. You are too strong, too idealistic, too... too YOU.
I dreamt you. You were born to be mine. All the things you've done and seen and suffered happened only to make you the man you are now, the man I'm going to claim as mine.
I'm coming, Highlander. It's time. You've had four centuries to get ready.
------- epilogue ---------
Duncan looks around, as if sensing my presence. I've been trailing him through the empty streets for a while now. Finally he stops, and with his hand on his sword asks: "What do you want?"
"Everything you have to give," I reply, stepping to the light, "and then some."
- - - - - - - - -
Title: Free Day
Fandom: CI5: The New Professionals
Pairing: Sam Curtis/Chris Keel
Category: slash
Rating: 12
Disclaimers: People belong mostly to Brian Clemens and DWTV, although some occasional minor character is entirely mine.
Warnings: Toned down mush and happy relationship stuff
Notes: Written ages ago, was part of a series I never got done.
Summary: Tina 'Backup' Backus is bored on a free day and appears on Chris' door without warning.
Free Day
- - - - - - -
Backup throws the soft cover book she was reading away with a violent gesture.
She's *so* bored with love and lovers.
She has three days off, and this is the last of them. She's spent them like usually, long baths, reading books that do not remind her of her job - which would mean Mills and Boon and other mindless romantic crap, anything else might - but being a fast reader she has gone through more books than really is healthy.
And to top it all she had a double date with one of her friends yesterday, and while she was obviously very much in love with her companion, Backup had to entertain an idiot.
That does it.
Lovers suck, she decides, and with an effort gets up from her bed. Funny what few days of lazing about can do to you...
With decisive movements she dresses, and grabbing her mobile and keys heads out. She needs air. She needs company. She needs...
Then she knows exactly what she needs. It's Sunday afternoon. Sam and Chris are bound to be at Chris' downing beer and pizza and watching F1 from the telly.
Perfect macho crap that has nothing to do with either love or work. Perfect. And they *did* leave her an open invitation to join them at any time if she misses them too much on her leave.
She had merely snorted back then, but now she has to admit that it sounds pretty damn inviting.
She pauses to buy a six-pack of beer so she doesn't need to rely on their resources and then drives over to Chris'.
She grins as she encounters a pizza delivery girl on the doorstep, just about to ring the doorbell.
"I can take those, I'm going in there to help destroy them. How much do I owe you?"
The girl hesitates a second, then gives up and lets her have the pizzas. After she has gone Backup rings the bell, assuming a posture suitable for a delivery person.
It takes a while for someone to answer the doorbell, and when the door finally opens... she's staring at Sam's bare chest.
Sam. At Chris' door. Wrapped only in a sheet, holding a couple of banknotes in his hand.
"Backup! I thought it was our pizzas..."
"Well, those too... I came at the same time as them, and paid for them..." Backup automatically answers, staring at her friend.
Nope. Her logic can find no way to explain this. Besides the obvious.
"I decided to accept your invitation. I'm sorry, I should have called first..."
"No, it's okay. So, missed us?"
"No, well, yeah, kinda. I just... I was just so very bored with love and lovers I thought this place would be a refuge from that..."
Sam fights not to laugh. She blinks, too amazed to feel amused herself.
"Do come in. I can see you've prepared."
"Wha... oh, yes, the beer. You sure it's..."
"Yeah. Come on in, so I can close the door, I'm not really..."
"Oh, yes, sorry."
As they make their way to the stairs Sam pauses and shouts.
"Oy Chris! You decent? We got a visitor!"
Having heard the affirmative shout they make their way up, Backup still carrying the pizzas since Sam needs his both hands to keep the sheet up on his waist.
Upstairs they're greeted with the sight of Chris. He's wearing jeans that hang so low on his hips that they are obviously the *only* thing he's wearing, and leaning to the bedroom door frame looking as he's just woken up.
"Backup! Morning. Breakfast, too," he grins.
"It's three o'clock!"
"Yeah? About time to get up," Sam grins.
"So I guess breakfast in bed is out... Any particular reason you're here?" Chris asks Backup, and Sam answers with amusement-filled voice:
"She was fed up with love and lovers."
Chris laughs.
"Poor girl. You think you could go and put some clothes on, Sam?"
"Oh, yeah. Bite in on the pizza, and turn on the telly. I think the race is still on."
"You sure you don't want me to leave...?"
"Why, do you want to go?"
"I..."
"It's okay if you do," Chris says seriously, and pulls on a T-shirt he picks from the sofa.
"I mean, if you'd rather be alone..."
"You're always welcome, you know that. But if you find it... uncomfortable..."
"No, I... I don't think I've fully taken in all this yet. The fact you... you are... you..."
"Have a relationship? Are lovers? Are together? Share more than friendship? Are having an affair? Are dating? Are sharing a bed? Are courting, walking out, going with, going steady? Are PSSSLQ's? Are enamoured, in love, inclined to, sweet on, soft on, keen on, set on, stuck on, gone on, sold on, struck with, taken with, smitten, bitten, caught, hooked, charmed, enchanted, fascinated, bewitched, mad on, infatuated, besotted, crazy about, wild about each other?"
Sam appears from the bedroom, fully dressed, and recites his litany as he comes to stand behind Chris, and wrapping his arms around him pulls him against his chest, and rests his chin on his shoulder.
Chris laughs and raises his hand to his partner's hair to pull him to a gentle kiss.
"I *knew* I shouldn't give you that Roget's for your birthday!"
Backup stares at the men before her and realises how perfect they are together. How in love. How happy. They don't seem boring and clichéd like her book-lovers either. She smiles benevolently.
"Roget's is a thesaurus, right?" she clarifies.
"Oh, you guessed," Chris smirks, "Obviously it has an exhaustive lists on endearments as well. I never knew any living person would use words such as 'honeybaby', but if they print it in a dictionary..."
Backup laughs with them.
"Surely he didn't call you that?"
Sam and Chris share a long look, and laugh. "No. Not that."
Sam lets Chris go, and looking at the pizza boxes on the table says more silently:
"It also has dozens of words to name marriage, but hardly any to describe a relationship that the church and the government don't recognise. So we do understand if you want to... leave."
Backup is impressed by the eloquent way in which he puts it.
"I'm okay with it. Truly. Takes a bit of getting used to, but it doesn't ... disgust me or anything. Does Malone know?"
"After he witnessed our reunion after Chris had once again proven he's a tough bastard to kill, he had to stop pretending he didn't know and we had to stop pretending we didn't know he knew."
"So he's okay with it?"
"He's a realist. He told us that if our personal relationship was what made us 'so goddamn good a team', he could hardly punish us for it."
"More questions? Or can we eat?"
"What do we owe you for the pizzas?"
"They're on me. And here's beer. Since I don't think I'll ever get to arrange you a wedding or anything, you'll have to allow me to do *something* for my friends."
She stresses the word 'friend' and they understand what she means, and smile thankfully.
"We rather thought about holding a coming-out party," Chris grins.
"You didn't."
"No? It would be worth it, to see the expressions on all those macho idiots we have on payroll for some odd reason..."
"We're not talking about Creighton again, are we?" Backup smiles, since 'the boorish bastard' is a common target for their jokes and insults.
"That guy," Chris says with conviction, "needs a good fuck."
"I agree, but I hope you're not offering," Sam hits him lightly in the ribs with his elbow.
"I'm an honest man nowadays," he grins in return.
"No," Backup says seemingly in deep contemplation, "I think he needs a kick in the groin, and a bullet in his head."
"Wouldn't kill him. He keeps his brain elsewhere," Chris replies.
"And hands," Backup says dryly, having learned the hard way not to wear skirts when in an assignment with the rock ape in question.
"But I mean, really, " Chris comes back to the earlier subject, "he might get a heart attack out of shock if we're lucky."
"It *would* be worth it," Sam agrees.
"Honestly, would you be ready to..."
"To leave the damn cramped closet just to kill Creighton?" Chris grins.
"Absolutely," they answer in unison, and Backup laughs again.
"Can I arrange the party?" she asks innocently.
"We could call it a house-warming party," Sam says half-seriously.
"Oh, you moving?"
"'Moving in' more like."
"Yeah. He hangs in my corners all the time anyway, so we might as well make it official."
"Well, you know, his housekeeper died, and the poor boy really needs someone to look after him."
By the time the afternoon is over, Backup has laughed so much her sides are hurting. She's never seen her friends in this mood. It's like... a bubbling fountain of happiness. They're pure joy. And if it's due to their relationship, it should be made compulsory.
And if it really is what makes them so good at work... Well, they are good as individuals due to their training and skills, but as a team they're something else entirely. The thought brings an idea to her mind and she starts to laugh.
To the questioning looks from the men she explains as well as she can while still laughing.
"No... I just thought that... if your personal relationship really is what makes you so good a team," she pauses to laugh for a second, "I just started wondering if that was the reason the original 3.7 and 4.5 were as legendary..."
The guys laugh as well, thinking of the womanising reputation of Bodie and Doyle, the top team of their day.
"Malone knew them, you know. We really should ask him," Chris sniggers.
"I can just see you doing that," his lover replies.
"More beer anyone?"
Much later Sam and Chris call Backup a cab, and walk her to the door. The Canadian still giggles to their last exchange, but pulls herself together to thank them for the fun afternoon.
"And I'll keep that thing about Coming out party in my mind," she says, and waves them goodbye.
The men groan.
"You really want to arrange us a party. Any party."
"Of course. You're so sweet," she grins to them, and disappears into the cab.
Her faith in love and lovers has been restored. In the future when she needs a dose of mush, she decides, she won't retreat to Mills and Boon but spend a day with those two.
Working Title: The Good-morrow
Author: Niki
Fandom: The Pretender
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: 15 to be safe, 12 probably.
Pairing: Jarod/Miss Parker
Warnings: Fandom clichés!
Summary: Miss Parker is ready to think outside the box.
Notes: Somewhere around the 3rd season I veer off into my own universe. Around the time Thomas appeared but I'm... replacing Thomas. Also skipping the Jarod clone and Ethan. And IOTH never happened and will never happen. Mr Raines is not Parker's dad.
Further Notes: First chapter of a looong story (every chapter is a story on its own) I started writing when I was supposed to work on my Yuletide story.
--------- ------------- ---------------- --------------- --------------- -------------- -------------- ---------------
The Good-Morrow
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
---
Now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
---
John Donne: The Good-morrow.
Had she believed in such things, Miss Parker could have considered the oppressing dream she had had an omen for the day. As she didn't, the leftover mood from the dream was merely one more annoyance in her morning, with the flat tyre, throbbing headache, and a mysterious malfunction in all the percolators in her favourite coffee shop.
Still, none of that showed on her face as she strode in the Centre that Monday morning. Her burgundy suit was wrinkle-free, her face carefully neutral, and even the lack of greeting when entering Sydney's office as per his message was business as usual for her co-workers.
The object on the desk caused her to raise a half-hearted eyebrow.
"Another gift from the Science Fair Project, Syd?" she asked, sounding more bored than annoyed.
"Well, it must be from Jarod," Broots hastened to explain, "but I've yet to figure out what it actually *is*."
She opened her mouth to say something scalding, then decided not to bother, and looked at the... thing. No, she couldn't make sense of it either.
"Mail?"
"The usual. No note."
"Brilliant. Well, if you actually find out something useful, I'll be in my office."
Not that she had anything pressing to do in there either but at least she could dim the lights, send a grunt to get her some real coffee, put her feet up, and close her eyes for a minute.
The dream images returned when she closed her eyes. Something... grey, dampening, oppressive – like fog, all over... but not physical, more... mental. Menacing...
A sharp knock on the door made her drop her feet heavily on the floor. It didn't fit her image to be seen in that position.
"Come in," she said. Had to be the coffee. No one from her family or team would actually do something so plebeian as knock.
She was so distracted by the anticipation of caffeine that she actually nodded her thanks to the man, who blinked, confused, and made his escape.
Parker sat down again and stared out of the window, sipping the bitter liquid.
Three years. Three years of chasing after one man. Three years spent on one project; more than she ever had, ever since school (where getting the degree could be seen as 'one project'). Three years during which insane clues, pranks, and mysterious phone calls had all become normal, so much so that the tedium of her work made her...
...bored. Routine kills. Habitually being just a few minutes too late, repeatedly being a disappointment to her father, and being disappointed in him in turn as he ignored yet another important day in her life.
Finding out her mother hadn't killed herself as she always thought but was murdered? Discovering she had a twin brother, who just happened to be a psychopath who was eating girls when he wasn't too busy beating his wives to death? Daddy dearest marrying the scheming bitch of questionable virtue who had tried to kill him mere months before? Just business as usual at the Centre.
Of course, most of these revelations had been brought to her by Jarod. The lab rat. The genius. The infuriating prankster. The man who, many years ago, was the only friend she'd had besides her mother.
She hadn't thought of him in those terms for so many years. Had forgotten his existence, and the way those deep brown eyes used to look at her as if seeing her soul... well, maybe not forgotten but ignored all those memories, until he forced her to examine them again, brought them all to the surface.
She had hated him when her father forced her to come back and work for him in retrieving him. Something in that thought nagged in her mind. Why blame Jarod for that? Wasn't it her father who... Another thing she refused to think.
Her father, who had actually asked her to kill to clean up messes not of her making. And yet she would always believe him, even when proven, time after time, that he lied. And Jarod, who had – up to date – never lied to her always had to present evidence.
Made sense, one of them was her flesh and... but no. She wasn't even sure of that anymore. It seemed almost certain that Ben was her biological father. Besides, Jarod was her enemy.
Enemy... Adversary. A worthy foe to match wits against – if only he didn't always end up on top.
But... enemy? She had pointed her gun at him so often. Why hadn't she ever shot him? Just in the leg, enough to slow him down, to capture him? Why did he always call her when she needed... contact?
Why was he the only one who seemed to remember all the days that had meaning, all the things that mattered to her. And those he never ever used against her. He might give her the cold, lock her up, mislead her, lead her into a tropical storm... but those things she felt truly vulnerable about he never threw at her face.
With her weaknesses he was... gentle. With her pain he was... considerate. Is that what an enemy did?
Why did he, in those moments, sound more like... a friend?
Not that she had had much experience with friendships. When she was a child she had her mother, and Jarod. When she grew up... she had men she slept with. Some had to work for it, some tried to woo her, in various ways, and she ended up spending more time with them than just in bed – but she wouldn't call them friendships, still.
What did she have now? She spent most of her time with an ageing shrink and a timid computer nerd.
Here, in the privacy of her own space she could admit that she knew those two cared about her, more that her so-called family. And she cared about them, and would do much to protect them. Had even admitted as much to Lyle. 'Broots is more my brother than you'll ever be.'
Brother. She had prayed that the blood test would give her Timmy – Angelo – but the blind and insane destiny had given her Lyle instead. At least, having Angelo at the dinner table eating next to Brigitte would be amusing. She nearly smiled at the image. Nearly.
And, for a second, she had had to fear that Jarod might have been the other child her mother gave birth to. Jarod. A brother? No, please, no. Never a brother. After all, it would be quite disturbing (not to mention pathetic) to have shared your first kiss with your brother.
It was the first and last innocent kiss she had ever given a boy. The next one had been a few years later, and by that time... it was not innocent anymore. It was desperate, and fumbling, and led to lousy sex. She could still remember the eyes of the boy. Electric blue – the farthest she could get from the chocolate brown she did *not* think about. The sex got better. But she could never get back the first, disappointing, experience.
Not that she held faith with the mythical 'first time' that was meant to be magic. Sex was a skill. The experience got better with practice. Like coffee. No one likes coffee the first time they try it. And then, soon, they can't live without it...
Sex had been one way to feel warm, just for a moment, far away from home and hurting for the rejection of her father. Missing her mother but feeling guilty because she was supposed to think her weak and unworthy of her devotion.
And if her thoughts had touched on the boy that was his first crush? Maybe, fleetingly... but he was just a subject, nothing more than a rat in a maze, a bunny in the lab. Someone beneath a Parker.
How much of her father's lectures had she believed in, and how much of the thought patterns had just become accepted purely as self-defence against the too painful memories? She still couldn't tell.
The years chasing Jarod, getting to know him again through the people he helped, the things he left behind, the hurried phone calls... Cryptic, annoying, showing glimpses of the secrets he held... she wanted to hit him, tell him to stop playing games, and to... what, share?
Now that did make her smile, without warmth, without humour. She had taken it for granted that she would capture him, take him back to the Centre, and leave to her promised freedom. Now, she wasn't sure what she'd do with the said freedom, should her father actually keep his word for once.
Did it matter? Did anything? It was her job – her life – to bring Jarod back. Then she could leave, without looking back.
Did she even believe that anymore?
Did she believe it would, could, end? Routine kills. This routine might kill Jarod or her sooner or later. Would it make such a difference? She was dead already. Death, the absence of life.
She spent all her time in this twisted place that tortured children and had murdered her mother, her family took the concept of 'dysfunctional' to new levels, and... And the highlight of her week was seeing Debbie smile when she dropped by at Broots' to leave an important file.
She was so weary...
Again, a knock roused her from her thoughts, and she placed the remains of her cold coffee on the desk before turning to face her visitor. It was an excited Broots, summoning her to their side.
Stifling a sigh, she got up and followed him with legs made of lead.
"This better be good," she muttered, but with little acrimony. As long as it was even vaguely interesting, as long as it distracted her, just for a moment, from her uncommonly introspective thoughts, it would be worth it.
"It's a puzzle box!" Broots chirped, all fired up, glint of inspiration in his eyes.
Miss Parker had a fleeting vision of a little brother who had gotten a science set for Christmas.
Sydney's smile was indulgent when they reached the room, and Broots twittered on. Like the favourite uncle who had given that present... She shook her head visibly to get rid of these insane thoughts. Work.
For the next hour they followed little clues and leads from one opening to another, trying to figure out a way to reveal the innards of the foot by foot contraption. It felt too much like her life over the three years, Parker thought, getting more and more frustrated, until she finally took a heavy paper weight from the desk and smashed her way through the walls, without any regard to Broots' warning shout.
Inside, there was a hollow space with a piece of paper with just one sentence in Jarod's handwriting: "Knew you'd figure it out, Parker."
"That's *it*?" Broots pouted, and Sydney frowned, going through the remains of the box.
Parker was fascinated by the message. Had Jarod really thought she would solve the puzzle?
"Look, there's no other way to the inner compartment than breaking the wall," Sydney pointed out.
"Wow, you're right. So... he *expected* Miss Parker to snap and..."
"...think outside the box," Sydney finished, keeping a close eye on the woman still holding the paper.
"But... why? What's the meaning of this? What's the clue?"
"I'm sure it will all become clear in due course, Mr Broots," Sydney replied, distractedly. "Miss Parker..."
"Yes? I'm going home," she declared, marching out of the room, taking the note with her.
"Wait! What do you want us to tell Mr Lyle?" Broots' shout stops her at the door.
"The chemical composition of the material, I don't care. Think of something."
- - -
It came as no great surprise to Miss Parker to find Jarod at her house. As if he knew this was one of those times when she would not call a sweeper team over to drag him back to the Centre.
Fortunately for his state of not-being-shot he was not smirking, not even smiling, as he slipped into view from the shadows as Parker entered her home.
"Jarod," she acknowledged his presence with a weary word, and he offered her a drink.
That made her laugh. Perfect housewife, knowing exactly what she needed. She sat down on the sofa, sipping the drink. Part of her wondered why she trusted him not to drug her but she *knew* he wouldn't. Not now, not like this.
Jarod stood in the corner of the room, well away from the windows, and Parker took in his appearance as he looked at her.
He was wearing his habitual black leather jacket with black jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked... not older, as such, but much more mature than the innocent man who had ran away into the wide world. His new hair style fitted him perfectly, and Parker had to admit to herself what she had refused to address earlier, in her office. He looked good. Sexy. Dangerous. And yet, when one knew he would never hurt them... he was the perfect dream lover out of a trashy romance novel.
She downed the last of the drink, then leaned back against the sofa and sighed deeply.
"Are you ready to break the routine, Miss Parker?"
Bitter laugh, "I don't suppose that means you've come to give yourself up?"
"No, I'm afraid not," he smiled, and that smile... it was not the mocking one, nor the smug one, nor the... No, it was the unguarded smile he gave to his friend, all those years ago.
And she felt... comfortable. Safe. Relaxed. Even after all of the years of hate, fear, bitterness, acrimony... his presence was the one that made her feel comfortable.
"No, I didn't think so," she replied, softening on her face almost a smile.
"I have new information I thought to share with you."
"Cryptic half-clues that leave me hunting for evidence?" she asked, warily.
"No. Not this time. This is too important."
He sat down on an armchair, next to her. "I found my father. He did not shoot your mother."
She considered not believing him but... what would be the use?
"You're taking his word for it?"
"Yes. He has no reason to lie. They knew each other, you know. My parents, your mother."
But of course they did. Nothing in the Centre was a coincidence, nothing in their lives so far had been one.
"Catherine was trying to help him rescue me, and he, also, got shot during the attempt. Maybe Fenigor saw wrong, maybe he lied. We'll never know. But the man who shot my dad was Mr Raines. And he took his gun."
"Why didn't he try to save you again?" Miss Parker frowned, "if he knew where you were?"
She saw instantly that the thought hurt Jarod. Naturally he would have had asked that himself. He was a genius after all. No aspect of the situation would be left unconsidered.
"They – for my mother was still around then – thought I had been transferred out. That I would be killed if they tried something without inside help. That... that they could protect themselves and my sister better if they didn't try..." his voice died out, and he bent his head.
Miss Parker rested her hand on his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, " she whispered.
They sat like that for a moment, then he seemed to get himself under control. Somehow Parker knew that he had never let anyone else see how this had affected him, would never let anyone else see his vulnerable moments. Knowing Miss Parker would not use them against him.
"This is not why I am here," he said, touching her hand, indicating the whole scene of offered and accepted comfort.
"I have something to give you. Please keep in mind that I only withheld this from you to protect you. You did not need to know all this... not before you were ready to accept it. Some of what's in here I have been able to verify, and have only ever offered to you with proof. Please, Parker... remember. Not out of cruelty, but kindness."
He took a red book from his pocket, not like the notebooks, a journal bound in leather... with her mothers name in gold on the cover. He was gone before she had gotten over the shock.
Then came the anger. Her mother's journal! He had had it for God knows how long and had not shared it with her! Forget never lying to her – withholding something of this magnitude...
Where had he got it? From her mother's safety deposit box? From her father? ...he had kept the letters, he would have had no compunctions in keeping the journal from his daughter as well. To protect her? Or himself? Jarod had claimed to have been protecting her.
She did not need protecting, goddammit! She only needed the truth!
- - -
Hours later, chocking on tears, she was ready to admit she hadn't needed *this* much truth.
It was all there. Her mother's pain in being trapped in a loveless marriage, her conviction that Ben – her breath of fresh air once a year – was the father of the desperately wanted child, her joy of finding out she is expecting twins, her pain at the death of the other child, her joy at the development of her little girl... Her fear and agony over what she found out was going on in the Centre...
The leather-bound book with its gold lettering had obviously been something special to her, she had only written a few entries each year when something especially good or bad happened. From some things she wrote Parker concluded she kept other journals, including a baby book on her. She wondered whether Jarod had those too. She wondered whether it mattered.
She winced the first time she read about the physical abuse her mother had endured at the hands of her husband.
If I thought you were in danger, my daughter, I would run, now. But at least he adores you. At least you are safe. And I can bear this a little while longer, just a little... I must save the other children, too, not just you. You do see that, don't you? I have to take Timmy and Jarod with us, and all the others! If only we could locate Maggie and Charlie. But they seem to have disappeared from the face of the Earth. Mr Fenigor will find them, I'm sure. And then... and then...
That was the last entry.
And then... Then she had died.
No wonder Jarod had said Mr Fenigor would hold the key to both of their pasts. Had he helped her mother, or betrayed her?
After reading the journal, Miss Parker was ready to admit Jarod had been right. She hadn't been ready for what was in the book. It would have been too much, all at once. Three years ago, when she had still thought her mother had killed herself? She would not even have believed in the book, but claim it a forgery.
Finding out about Ben by meeting him, the fact she needed to work through the identity of her brother herself... as much as she hated being manipulated she had to admit Jarod had, once again, known what was best for her, how much she could take at a time. And he had never presented her with any clues without evidence, protecting her from the wild goose chases he must live through all the time.
It really was true: her only real friend was her enemy.
- - -
It was late when she finally moved from the sofa, clutching the precious book in her hands. It did not surprise her unduly to hear Jarod's familiar voice behind her.
"Hey..."
She turned to look at him, taking in his wary expression. He wasn't *quite* sure how she was going to react to his presence but confident enough in his ability to read her that he didn't fear he was going to get shot.
"It's okay," she whispered, a bit inconsequently, trying to put him at ease.
"I brought food," he said, presenting a bag of Chinese take-away, and suddenly she was more than happy to have something as mundane as food to think about after the emotional roller-coaster the reading of the journal had been.
They shared the packages in companionable silence, and it took ten minutes for Parker to realise this was a first meal they were sharing, ever. Well, one that didn't involve Cracker Jacks. She shared the thought with Jarod, smiling, and got a laugh as a reward.
"No Cracker Jacks, sorry. I've got Pez, though," he smiled innocently. Too innocently.
"Jarod, thank you. You never... You... I can't imagine how much work you have put into finding proof about my past when you could have been working on your own."
"I had time to do both," he shrugged, and went on before she could call him on belittling his work. "Besides, lot of that stuff only makes sense now that we have the evidence. Like Ben. Then again, had she not expressed her belief that he was the father I would not have believed that – first time mothers expecting twins rarely carry their children to full term but..."
"Well, you're the doctor," she said, smiling a little, refusing to dwell on her parentage.
"Not today," he replied, in a way that told her it was a private joke. Pretender humour.
"When I first read that last entry, I didn't know she was talking about my parents. Only when I found out their names from other sources did I connect the dots."
"Maggie and Charlie," Miss Parker realised.
"Margaret and Charles," his smile was happy, for a moment. Maybe they had felt more real to him after they got names.
"Wait, you met your father. So you know your real name now."
Now his smile was positively radiant as he nodded. She couldn't help but beam back at him, "What is it?" she asked, before the implications came to her mind.
"No, don't tell me. I might... use it against you. Tomorrow... I have to go back to work. And try to capture you." There was no life in her voice.
How could she? After all that he had done for her? All that he had given her? But then, how could she not?
"My full name is Jarod Sean Mallory."
His trust felt like a hit to solar plexus. How could he... he had a name! She couldn't help but share his excitement, his happiness. But the tears in her eyes were not only of joy. "Oh, Jarod, why do you have to believe in me?" she whispered.
He smiled at her tenderly, his heart in his eyes. Her only friend. Her first love. He never left, she did. He tried, and tried, and tried, and she didn't let him through because she had believed there was nothing inside her to reach.
But blow by blow he had stripped off her armour, bunny by ring, call by look, until they were here... exposed, bleeding...
Her numbness today had been the final draw, when she couldn't even find strength to believe in her work anymore, the only way she could turn was past, the presence that had kept her strong in the Centre as a child, and the future, because the boy was a man now, but equally willing to offer his protection, warmth, faith, and... heart.
She was crying again, and didn't care, as she reached for him blindly. It was the first hug she had gotten since the weekend Debbie had spent at her place, and it was as innocent as that had been.
They clung together in comfort, in recognition, in an act of redefinition or rediscovery. This was Jarod hugging his friend.
But its innocence wasn't enough for Miss Parker anymore. She pulled back, and reached for his lips. He was right there with her, moving the last inches so that their mouths could meet, kissing her with abandon.
It was wild, crazy, passionate, and so very, very right Parker could only dizzyingly wonder why they had not done it before. When they pulled back, her mind cleared enough to realise why they hadn't.
But none of those reasons mattered anymore.
"Love me, Jarod. Make me feel warm," she begged, and he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her trembling body against him.
"I love you," he whispered in her hair but the words were superfluous. Of course he loved her, how else could he have this endless faith in her?
She couldn't say the words back, not even sure what they meant, what they meant for her – she just knew that hearing them from Jarod made her wildly happy, glowing inside, knowing she could face anything. Even her work. Still she was shaking.
"Hush," he was whispering, rocking her like a baby until she calmed down.
"Stay with me," she whispered, not able to bear the idea of him leaving. She knew he had to, come morning, it wasn't safe to stay. But if he went away know, she might slip back inside her armour and never even care enough to find her way out.
"Always," he whispered, carrying her up to her bed.
- - -
They did not make love. They held each other, sometimes talking, sometimes dozing off for only a moment – neither one was used to sleeping so close to someone but they seemed unable to let go of each other for long enough to actually sleep.
"I... am vulnerable now, Jarod. I won't always be this accommodating," she warned, knowing he would have a hard time in the future, should he want a relationship with her. A relationship! The idea was both scary and exhilarating. Pure madness, of course. It would most likely get one or both of them killed.
But she would be damned if she could abandon the warmth of his embrace to the cold determination the Centre – her father – expected of her.
"You wouldn't be you if you were," Jarod smirked, but right now it failed to irritate her. Then he turned serious. "Is that what you want? A... relationship?"
"Don't you?"
"Yes!"
"Then yes, that's what I want. I don't know how but..."
"I don't care how, we'll think of something. All I really care about is that I can finally see *you* again. I've been watching... and waiting... and digging... at first, it wasn't even conscious. I didn't realise... Until I faced the real world, I couldn't even have named what it was I felt towards you."
"Oh, is that the excuse for the other girls," she grinned to show him he was kidding.
"I have always relied on the kindness of strangers," he quoted, and that obviously meant something for him.
"Educational?"
"Extremely. I worked in an escort agency once."
"You WHAT?" she spluttered.
"I have to admit I mostly handled my customers... in other ways," he explained, bashfully. "You'd be surprised at how many women just need someone to listen to them. So much so that they're willing to pay for it."
"That's how the shrinks live, Wonderboy. What was the agency? If they have more men like you, I know where to call the next time I feel like... talking."
"Over my dead body, Miss Parker," he growled, only half-joking.
"Possessive, are we?"
"Apparently," he laughed, ruefully. "I think I need to warn you... I've... never been in a relationship before."
"Me neither, not in a way we mean."
"So I guess we'll have to learn together."
"How did you know I was ready?"
"I'm... not sure. I've been seeing and hearing the tiny tears in your armour. And... And I sent the thing today to show that to you too. You are ready to break the pattern, you are ready to search for new solutions. And... I just hoped... they would include me."
- - -
It was almost morning when they forced their minds back to the real world and real issues.
"I have to go back tomorrow," she said quietly.
"I know," his voice was equally quiet.
"I have to be Daddy's little girl and a well-behaving Centre tool."
"And I have to stay outside, looking for the answers... for both of our pasts."
"I can't... be... without you anymore, Jarod. I won't be this person without you."
"You're stronger than you believe at this moment, Parker, you don't really need me. But as long as you *want* me, I'm here. If not physically, then," he placed his hand over her heart, "in here."
"You're wrong. I *do* need you. Mind you," she said in a sudden flash of insight, "I might not admit it after this." She smiled. "But never doubt that I do, in fact, need you very much."
- - -
On surface, the Miss Parker that walked into the Centre the next morning did not differ from the yesterday's version. Her suit was as immaculate, her face as carefully neutral, and her manner no kinder.
But this morning she had had no dreams, her coffee had been prepared by Jarod, and served with a kiss, and she had smiled all the way to work. Not that she could ever show the smile. She couldn't afford to act any differently, could never give anyone cause to suspect...
Had it really happened? It felt unreal. As if she was a completely different person from the one who woke up yesterday. Well, in a way she was. She was the little Miss Parker now, more than the Miss
Parker she had grown up into.
As such, she was extremely vulnerable at the moment. She would need to built up her defences so that she could function in the Centre environment but she did not want to disappear behind them again.
"Morning," she mumbled to Sydney and Broots, even though she felt like giving them a hug.
"Morning, Miss Parker. Is everything okay?" Sydney asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"You left... quite abruptly yesterday."
"I had a headache. Sue me. Did you discover anything in the wreckage of the box?"
She knew they would have found a logo and a serial number that would lead them to a factory near Detroit. And, thanks to Jarod, she knew a good hotel.
She let Broots explain his discoveries and his detective work, all the while planning how to keep Lyle from attending the excursion. It would make everything so much easier for them.
"Fine, book the flight, find some accommodation, the usual. We'll leave as soon as..."
"Leave where, sis?"
Lyle was almost as bad as Jarod in that sneaking thing.
"Detroit," Parker explained in a bored voice. "Another wild goose chase."
"I see," Lyle said slowly, staring at the remains of the plastic monstrosity on the desk. "Well, I have no time for that right now, I'm working on a project for dad."
He left, and Parker stared after him through narrowed eyes.
"Should we worry?" she asked from no one in particular.
Sydney was looking at the door as well.
"I don't know... He seems... uninterested in the possibility of catching Jarod."
"Ha, what are our chances anyway?"
"Well, I don't know. He can't have known that we would solve the puzzle so easily, it would have taken hours to..."
"Whatever, Broots. We have to go regardless of what we believe. Go home, pack. Meet me at the airport."
She thought about a phone number she was given last night, the most precious treasure she could think of at the moment. But no, no need to call. Jarod would know they were coming, the way he always knew. He would be ready.
And maybe he could shed light on the mystery of Lyle's lack of interest. 'A project for dad' sounded very worrying.
- - -
"Jarod? You mean Jarod Holmes? He worked for the security department, and uncovered a long-standing problem of wilful neglect in safety measures in multiple parts of the factory."
"But of course he did," Miss Parker muttered, not wholly to keep up with appearances.
"Worked?" Sydney clarified.
"Yeah, he didn't show up at work yesterday. Turns out he was only hired as a temporary consultant, and the new..."
"Yes, yes, that's all very well. Did he leave anything behind?"
"Just some stuff in his office. He said he'd send someone to clear it out."
Sydney started laughing at that.
"Great, now we're his clean up crew!" Miss Parker huffed, though, internally, she had to admit she wanted to laugh too.
"Sam, this should be right up your alley," she smiled sweetly at her tame sweeper who looked pained.
Jarod's office was actually pretty empty but for the objects on the table, including the ubiquitous red notebook. Miss Parker made a mental note to ask Jarod where he got them, and whether he ordered them in bulk – and if so, where did he store them?
According to the newspaper clippings, he had been alerted to the problems in the company when a worker died of her injuries and her spouse and child were left without compensation because it was deemed her fault.
"Right. You know the drill, Broots. Sweep the room for any clues, and try to find where the Wonder boy bunked this time. I'll be at the hotel."
- - -
The sight that greeted her in her hotel room took her breath away.
"Taking risks, aren't we?" she smiled at the black-clad figure lounging on the bed. "What if I hadn't been alone?"
"What, you weren't dying to get alone so that you could call me?" his smirk would have irritated her on any other day, but as it was, right now she was just dying to kiss him.
It was a slow, leisurely kiss, a greeting, a confirmation that nothing had changed since yesterday, since this morning. He held on to her arms gently.
"Hi," he smiled.
"Hi," she smiled back. "And, to answer your question, no it wasn't."
"No?" obviously, he didn't know whether to be hurt or amused and decided to wait for the punchline before reacting.
"No. I knew you'd find me."
Apparently, he was happy with the reply because his face started beaming.
"Just for the record, how *did* you find me? Broots took care of the booking."
The smirk was back. "I follow your expense accounts," he whispered conspiratorially. She laughed out loud, so much for the Centre security.
That reminded her of the earlier question about the red notebooks.
"They are the same type I used at the Centre. So I order them from the same supplier. The Centre pays for them," he explained, grinning.
"Damn," she whispered. Shouldn't Broots notice these things?
"You know all my secrets now, Parker, what are you going to do with them?"
"Surely not *all* of them," she purred.
Last night had been about comfort. Today, she wanted – needed – something else.
"Parker!" this time his voice was free of humour, instead laced with passion, and desperation, as she moved closer, and wrapped her body around his. His grip on her arms tightened.
"Won't the others..." he swallowed when she kissed his neck, "be... here soon?"
"They have no reason to enter my room. It's late. Whatever they find, we won't be able to fly out until tomorrow."
"If you're sure..." he mumbled, and gave his full attention to her actions.
He bent his head to claim her lips again, and this time the kiss was full of passion and hunger; the culmination of years of longing, and she answered with everything she got.
He started steering her towards the bed, getting rid of first his own coat, then hers, and battling with her hands to remove their shirts... when a knock on the door made them freeze.
"Then again," she whispered, panting, frustrated, and he laughed softly, dropping a soft kiss on her sweaty forehead.
She pulled away from him, watched him pick up his coat (mmm, nice ass), and disappear to the bathroom. A quick look in the mirror revealed her ruffled state, and she hastily buttoned her shirt, and sleeked her head back. Nothing to be done about her red cheeks, glowing eyes, or achy lips.
"Yes?" she barked at the two men after opening the door.
"Are you okay, Miss Parker? You look a little... feverish."
She groaned inside her head. You bet I feel feverish!
Sydney took in the crumbled bed covers and the coat that lay abandoned on the floor. "Are you ill?"
What to do? She wouldn't ever admit to being ill if she really was but it would be a perfect excuse. She rubbed her forehead wearily, as if nursing a headache, and asked in a overly-patient voice, "Did you just stop by to ask how I was feeling?"
"No, we found Jarod's apartment."
"Whoop-de-do. Any clues?" still that fake-calm voice her team should recognise. Only now it was hiding quite a different emotion from the usual.
"Books," Sydney replied, still looking at her in a searching manner.
"On?" she prompted.
"Poetry. You name it, it was there. Contemporary, historical. Rhyming, modern, epic."
"What, the lab rat decided his education was lacking?"
"Well, he could have just been bored... but I would think they would have something to do with his next pretend. A writer, perhaps? A teacher?"
"We already know he has one published book... ummm..." Broots couldn't meet her eyes after reminding her of the romance novel Jarod had written.
"Yes," she said slowly, "we *all* remember that, don't we. Fine, tomorrow, we start looking for him in schools and universities. For now, go to sleep. And I hope your room isn't right next to mine, because you snore!"
"N-no, we're at the other end of the corridor..."
"Good night, Miss Parker," Sydney said politely, "we are in a room number 309 if you feel ill."
"You share?" she frowned, not really caring, as long as they were not in a position to hear any accidental sounds she might make if properly motivated.
"Whatever." She shook her head before they had time to reply, and led them to the door. "Night." She said decidedly, and had to fight not to slam the door in her haste.
"Feverish?" a deep voice next to her ear asked, and she leaned back against his warm body.
"Mmm, you're burning up."
"No worries," she whispered, rubbing her body against his and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. "I know a good doctor."
- - -
It was as she would have thought – technically, physically, and emotionally very fulfilling.
"I'll give you a reference if you ever want to work as an escort again," she muttered against his sweaty chest, holding him close. Then opened her eyes, realising the implication, and raised her head to look him in the eye.
"Of course, if you ever sleep with another woman, I would be forced to shoot them."
"Possessive, are we?" he echoed her words from last night, but there was an endearing glint of insecurity in his eyes.
"Like you have no idea," she whispered, and kissed him softly.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, after she had settled against his chest again, running lazy circles on her exposed skin with his free hand.
"Rest, and do that again," she suggested, smiling.
"I meant... generally."
She sighed, not willing to let reality enter the bed just yet. "You pretend and run, and I pretend to chase."
"There must be something more to life than that."
"I know. I want to... keep seeing you. But I don't want to get you dead. Hell, I don't want to get me dead."
"I don't want to do anything to risk you. Well, besides the obvious. I don't think I could pretend not to want this anymore," he confessed huskily, momentarily tightening his hold.
"Tomorrow... I have to go back, and you have to go... recite poetry or something," she smirked, trying so very hard not to ask.
"Should I tell you?" he asked, quietly.
Again she moved so that she could look him in the eye. He was being completely serious.
"It could be dangerous," she whispered.
"If you were to betray me... do you think I would care about anything anymore? Even about being back there?" his voice told her he didn't really suspect she'd do something like that, and again, the absolute trust he had in her took her breath away.
"No. No, that's not what I meant. It's the Centre. They have their ways. If they suspected I knew something..."
He smiled slightly. "You guys will find me, again."
"But when? Will you be gone by then? And if you start hanging around just to see me... you'll get caught, by Lyle or... Lyle!" she had completely forgotten.
She told Jarod about the discussion before they had left for the Centre.
"Don't worry. My fault. I laid some additional traces for him to find. Apparently, he didn't want to share the honour of trapping me. I wanted... I needed us to have the best privacy possible before we could work things out."
"I can't risk calling you too often. They could be listening to my phones," she said sadly.
"And I can't risk saying much when calling you at home, I know. We'll... think of something. I'll get you a device with which you can sweep your own house and car for bugs regularly. And... well, I'll keep an eye on you. We'll think of something," he repeated.
"I hope so. I... don't think I can be me without you," she admitted quietly. "It wouldn't take long for the Centre to... acclimatise me again."
"I won't leave you, Parker. Not ever." He was silent for a while, then sighed. "I wish we could just... disappear."
She smiled wistfully. "We'd never find the answers we seek that way. About our mothers, about the Centre."
"You do know I'm working on taking the whole Centre down, as soon as I get what I want from out of there? And in case you were wondering, yes, you and Sydney and Broots and Angelo are among those things."
"Broots too, huh?" she smiled, not commenting on his plans otherwise. It was not like she'd mind, anymore.
"I respect him," he replied, seriously.
"Even I admit to certain fondness towards him," she said casually, "and Debbie needs him."
He smiled widely. "I'm so happy you let her past your defences."
"You knew about that?"
"I've been keeping an eye on you, Parker. I don't plan to stop. Hope you don't mind."
"My own personal Guardian Angel."
"Always. And... I would find it hard to stop... helping people."
"I know. I wouldn't want you to. It's part of who you are. And I care deeply for who you are."
That was the closest she could get to a declaration of love. She... felt it but couldn't find the courage to say the words. He smiled tenderly, as if understanding.
"One day, I'm going to ask you to come with me," he promised quietly.
"One day, I might ask you to take me away," she promised in return.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
More V-Day goodies
no subject