Five Ways Miss Parker & Jarod Didn't Meet (Pretender fic, 5/6 & 6/6)
Go here for Part 1, disclaimers, acknowledgments, summary. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here.
5. White Leopard Habitat
Mia spotted Jarod sitting at a table near the water, and pulled her sunglasses down onto her face before striding across the Café Miami to join him. She leaned down and gave him a light peck on the cheek before dropping her shopping bags at his feet. "So, what did you order for me?"
Jarod startled at her touch, then froze for several moments as she settled into the chair across from him and picked up a menu, before he finally said, "Hold that thought." He reached for the cell phone inside his jacket. "You can have anything you want as long as you stay right there, Mia. We'll take a banquet back with us, if that's what you're in the mood for."
"Anything?" She mock-frowned at him over the menu, then grinned at the annoyed look he gave his busy-signal-buzzing cell phone. "Sorry, Jarod. May I call you Jarod? I already know almost everything about you; and calling you ‘Mr. Parker’ seems too formal under these circumstances. But you won't be able to get through to your Sweeper team."
"Do I want to know why not?" Interesting. He wasn't yelling yet. All of her information about him had indicated he didn't resemble his father in that regard. Unlike Lyle, who looked and sounded like an updated Jimmy Stewart even while burying women out in the woods, but could rage just like his good ol' boy daddy. She hadn't counted on Jarod having manners, much less the calm to match the Cary Grant packaging.
Hmmm. If she took the metaphor to its conclusion, that made Sydney a new version of Sydney Greenstreet, pulling strings behind the scenes. But who did that make her? She'd have to ask Sydney more about old movies, the next time she called. Dismissing her latest obsession from her mind, Mia returned to tormenting her current target.
"Your Sweepers are a little busy trying to keep your baby brother from being arrested for three homicides. Ah, mimosas. A must-have." Mia crooked a finger at a nearby waiter, and watched Jarod go very still out of the corner of her eye. "Two mimosas, two waffles with strawberries, lots of butter and whipped cream, and could you be a sweetheart and get my husband some more coffee?"
"Of course, Mrs. Parker."
That finally got to him, as even the mention of Lyle hadn't. Give him credit, though; aside from one strangled sound of protest, and his fingers tightening on his coffee cup, nobody else would pick up on his surprise. It appeared that Jarod Parker was all about control. Time to take that away from him.
He waited until the waiter had smiled, bowed and gone away before saying, "Husband?"
"What, you're not going to ask about the arrest?" Mia propped her chin on her left hand, drawing attention to the new diamond ring there. His eyes tracked it for a second, then flicked back to meet her eyes, giving away almost nothing. Irritation, maybe, and curiosity, but that was it. Points for that. She tapped the ring against her cheek. "I'll grant you, we didn't pick this out together, but you still paid for it. As well as my latest little spree. You should let someone else assign your PIN numbers; they're incredibly easy to access." She reached over and pulled a sheer satin nightgown out of one bag. "Do you think it's my color?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw before he said, very dryly, "I'm not going to give you an opinion unless you model it for me."
"There's a thought." One a little too pleasant to dwell on at the moment. She dropped the gown back in the bag. "So you knew about the girls."
A flicker of an eyelid, that tension along his jaw again, and then Jarod very carefully said, "I'm sure something can be worked out with the police."
"I'm sure it could be too. If they hadn't actually found the girls' bodies. With Lyle's fingerprints on the sheeting they were wrapped in." Mia heard her voice go colder, lower, braced herself for the explosion, threats, demands. "Your father can't cover this up the way he covered up Che Ling's death."
Jarod looked away, out over the water, and said nothing for an entire minute. But his shoulders relaxed. And was that a sigh of relief?
"The evidence will hold up in court?" Phrased like a question, without actually being a question. "You would have made sure of that." And then he shocked the hell out of her. "Thank you."
Mia pushed her sunglasses up to glare at him, but had to wait until after the solicitous waiter had poured their mimosas and then left again before she burst out with, "What the hell is this? You're supposed to offer me the Earth and anything else I want in order to clear him!"
"He's guilty. He's been my rival at the Centre for far too long." He smirked at her, and took a sip of his coffee. "And I never liked him, even before I found out he was my brother. I have plenty of reasons to be glad he's gone." Jarod put his coffee down and said, "In fact, I'm not even going to try to take you in today, if he's actually been arrested. Consider it a late wedding present."
"Peachy." So much for that plan. Family loyalty should have held steady no matter what. This was very, very annoying, as well as a sign that she needed much better information on Jarod Parker. "Your daddy isn't going to be pleased with you when he finds out about this, Jarod. He'll want to know why you didn't negotiate with me."
"My father's wishes aren't the sole motivation for my actions, Mia." Jarod was studying her as closely as she'd studied him. She took a sip of her mimosa to cover her discomfort. He kept his voice low, persuasive; she had to wonder how much his own latent Pretender abilities were coming into play here. "Come back with me to Blue Cove. You can be safe. I can protect you. Lyle's gone now, and I can block any plans Raines has."
"Why would that be anything I'd want, when I can have this?" Mia gestured with her goblet, taking in the blue, blue ocean, the sand, the palm trees, the people around them. Variety and sensation and life. "Thirty years of deadly simulations, no family, cotton pajamas, tasteless food, being told what to do, where to go, who to talk to-"
Jarod interrupted her, intense and sincere again. "We can change that, make you a full employee, find you better accommodations-"
Which had her cackling like a crazy woman for several minutes, then smiling even more widely as the waiter returned with their food. Jarod watched her, waiting for her to get control of herself with a bemused smile on his face. As soon as the waiter was gone, she said, "I took a bath in your suite before I came here. Just to see what Centre executives rated while on assignment. Are you ready to give up your house in Delaware to me, if that's what I want?"
Jarod blinked, opened his mouth, then swallowed. Stunned was a cute look on him, but he recovered fast. "Possibly."
Mia almost choked on a bite of strawberry. "Good one. But it's still not enough. It's my life. I'm not giving it away to anyone for any reason ever again."
"You know what the Centre's resources are. And if you keep setting up Pretends like the one you sprang on Lyle, you're going to get hurt." She could almost believe he meant it, that he was worried about her. "You can't protect yourself out here. You're alone, you're vulnerable, and you don't have any experience with the real world."
"You think so?" Mia raised an eyebrow at him. "Funny thing I've learned since I've been free. People like to help others. If I look helpless, or flash my legs, it's extremely easy to convince someone that, say, I'm being stalked by my ex-boyfriend. And get them to lie to anyone who comes looking for me." She tilted her head. "My world is full of accomplices, Jarod. Especially in a good cause."
Jarod sighed, rubbing one temple with his fingertips, then gave her a troubled look. "Mia, please. Don’t make me hunt you down."
"Better you than Lyle. Oh, wait, that's not a danger now, is it?" She gave Jarod a slow smile, and patted her lips with her napkin before standing up and retrieving her bags. "Which is what happens when someone really pisses me off. So don't say you weren't warned."
"Mia-"
Whatever new argument he was going to try, he was wasting his breath. She bent down and placed a fast, warm kiss on his mouth, then pulled back before Jarod could decide whether to return the kiss or push her away. His expression when she stopped was priceless. "Bye, honey. I'll see you back in our room," she said, loud enough to be overheard by their waiter and a couple of the other diners. She gave him a wink, pulling down her sunglasses as she murmured, "Tell Sydney I said hi, won't you?"
She could feel him watching her leave as she strode toward the exit, swinging the shopping bags from one hand, and humming Get Me to the Church On Time under her breath.
6. Unique Snowflakes
The first e-mail came through Centre channels. It was attached to data he’d needed for the latest simulation, with an anonymous file name and password protection keyed only to him. Not from Angelo; atypical. An anomaly. Supposedly impossible. One line:
There’s life outside the Centre. Do you want it?
Jarod shivered, deleted the attachment, and waited, heart pounding. A test? A threat? He should report it to Sydney immediately. Check with IT, find the source, let whoever sent it become Security’s problem. Possibilities for a new level of psychological conditioning went through his head; a program that would allow the Centre to sever his certainties even within their secure walls. Force him to cling to his captors as the only surety, even as he hated them. Hold out the hope for escape, help from within, and then snatch it back. Clever. Heavy-handed, but not without merit.
Optimal time for beginning the next level of such a program: two days. There would be demands for information regarding why he hadn’t reported the attachment, then a round of deprivations-less computer time, less privacy. Then there would be accusations that he was plotting with personnel within the Centre. Jarod ran through all the permutations, and prepared himself for interrogation. He wasn’t going to give the appearance of compliance any longer. Let the Tower understand that he worked for them only because he was forced to. He would never agree to be their willing slave again, even inside his prison.
At the end of three days, there had been no action.
He ran a trace through the system, using back doors he’d set up years before, holes in the mainframe that only he and Angelo knew about. The e-mail had gone through five departments before reaching him, and the attachment could have been added anywhere. Scanning security footage would attract too much attention if done directly, but would lead him to-
Another download, another attachment, this one opening on its own when he clicked on the file.
Don’t look for answers. You haven’t addressed the question.
Do you want out?
Shocks to the system manifested in elevated breathing, a drop in temperature, dizziness, tension-it had been so long since he’d been surprised. Much less shocked. Amazing to experience the effect of actual change, for once.
Stupid to believe. Stupid to hope. But he wasn’t stupid, had never been stupid, his whole life was what it was because he was a genius, and whoever was doing this was taking incredible risks. There was no reason for a charade to be continued; nothing to be gained for the Centre by luring him in deeper before springing the trap. The instigator here was being very cautious, enough not to get caught at this level of interaction, but… who? Why? He needed more data. He couldn’t sim their motivations, the outcome, without more data.
Yes.
A single word response.
Wait.
He deleted all traces of this attachment as well, pulse accelerating, as Sydney came back from checking on the participants in another twin experiment.
“Do you have the latest estimates for the flooding simulation, Jarod?” Sydney’s mild gaze cataloged his well-being and emotional state, as usual. The prize exhibit in the Centre zoo.
“They’re on your computer. We should talk about the evacuation procedures when you have a moment.”
“Go ahead, I have to wait for further developments from Dr. Corvici….”
Not a trace of excitement, not a hint that it was Sydney. And somehow, he'd retained the control to fool Sydney’s usually keen eye.
If it was a set-up, and a more sophisticated one than usual, he couldn’t discern the advantage in drawing it out. But who within the Centre hierarchy would have both the intelligence and the caution to approach him like this? Much less the motivation? Was the Tower jockeying for position again? Was someone hoping to discredit Sydney by inciting Jarod to escape? Another psychotic with an agenda… Raines, maybe. Lyle. He’d been hearing things about Lyle.
Another two days. Possibilities considered, eliminated, narrowed, isolated. But still not enough information, not for certainty.
Saturday. When the Centre was quieter, fewer techs in the halls, less activity on the monitors he sometimes watched just to feel less alone. Free time, at least in theory. It could be interrupted at any moment, but Jarod took advantage of the break to visit the private weight room that only he and the other Pretenders had access to, with a bored Sweeper stationed outside the door.
Under one of the weights was a note.
Sam will take over as your escort when you leave the room. Go with him.
Not one of his regular guards. And now he had a very good idea of who was behind this. But not why.
Sam, blank-faced and cold, was waiting outside the door when he got done with his shower. He followed him without comment, but paused as Sam hit the elevator button for the uppermost level, then stepped out before the doors closed. If Jarod could have put a name to the expression on the Sweeper’s face before the door closed, it might have been- threat? Uncertainty? Apprehension?
He wondered who had cut the security feeds to the elevator; who had been suborned to cover his absence from his room-and then the elevator doors were opening onto the roof, and he took his first breath of unregulated air since he was eleven.
It was snowing again.
Jarod exited the elevator and held out one hand to the drifting flakes, enchanted. Cold as he remembered, but even more beautiful. God, how could they deny him something so simple? So wonderful?
The floodlights were off, and the stars and moonlight were the only illumination. For several minutes, he stood there, letting the flakes melt on his hands, on his face, his tongue, felt the cold seep in past his Centre-standard clothes, real and inescapable.
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he said, "Aren't you going to join me?" After a beat: "Miss Parker."
He heard the hiss of a lighter being ignited, and then there was the glow of a cigarette in the shadows. She paced out of them, deliberate and slow, and stopped a few feet away, watching him. In the darkness, he could barely make out details; she was a long silhouette, sharp heels, a cloud of hair melting into rising smoke, an arc of light where her hand held the lit ember.
"What gave it away?" She sounded amused, her voice lower than he'd anticipated, a husky alto. He'd seen photos of her, read files, but there had been no live video footage; he could picture the details and fill them in now, but there were still things he didn't know about this woman.
"Sam was the final proof. Although you were the main suspect in creating this little exercise in confusion. He's been your lead Sweeper for three years now, since you stepped down as Head of Security." Jarod kept his voice even, watching her every move. She had a black belt in judo. Was probably carrying a gun. Had shot more than one person who'd gotten in her way. No kills yet, but there was always a first time. "Real-time monitoring of my station is only available to a very few. Your answers came too quickly to be going through the normal channels."
A drag on the cigarette. "Maybe you are the genius they claim you are."
"What do you want with me?" Jarod stayed still, waiting. Part of him was savoring the illusion of freedom, however temporary or limited. "Your inquiries are counter to Centre policy."
"Screw Centre policy." She stalked around him in a small circle, head down, avoiding his gaze. "I hoped to discuss the possibility of ... an alliance, I suppose."
"Alliance." And there was the wild feeling of surprise again, of horizons opening up without warning. He kept his voice mild, and only slightly bitter, disguising hope. "That only happens between equals. I'm a prisoner."
"You don't have to be."
They stared at each other for a long moment, before Jarod whispered, "At what price?"
"You can find things I can't, once you're out of here." As if it was an already accomplished fact. "Tap the mainframe for files that can't be traced to me. Cause chaos in quarters I can't reach. In other words: do exactly what you want to do anyway." Miss Parker sounded dismissive, calm, as if she weren't proposing a course of action that could get both of them killed. "Is that too much to ask?"
He stepped closer to her, close enough to make out her expression at less than arm's length away. Blank as a porcelain doll, leaning back on her spine as if bored. An executive humoring an employee, one with better things to do.
The fingers clutching her cigarette were clenched tight, hard enough to break the nails on her manicure.
"Why should I risk my safety and my continued good health for a life on the run?" Jarod asked, keeping his voice sardonic. "Freedom to die horribly in Raines' hands holds little appeal."
"You want this." That velvety voice sharpened to a snarl when thwarted, he noted. Something to remember, later. "You've been stuck here for thirty years, living other people's lives in pretend-games. You'd kill to be out there, seeing reality instead of four walls. Don't try to tell me you wouldn't."
"I'm not a killer. The life I save could be my own." He smiled, hoped she could see it in the moonlight. "You're not doing this from the kindness of your heart, Miss Parker. If you have one, I doubt the plight of one lone captive can reach it." A snort out in the darkness, and he folded his arms. "For the escape of a Pretender, and random confusion as I elude the authorities, there's an additional price." He smiled, hearing a toe tap with impatience, watching her chin tilt up. "The truth."
"Truth?"
"Two kinds." And don't give away that you're bargaining for something more important than your life, your freedom, your sanity.… “I want to know what happened to my parents. And I want to know why you’re doing this.”
She looked away, and after a long moment, dropped her cigarette, grinding it under her heel, still avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know what happened to your parents. I don’t know anything about them.” A long sigh, and for the first time her shoulders slumped. “And I want to know what happened to mine.”
“Your parents?” Jarod frowned, intrigued and wary. “Your family’s history is an open book.” One which he was unwilling to get into. He’d seen the results of her losses of temper.
“Written by someone with all the veracity of the Weekly World News.”
“The what?”
“Forget it.” Muttering under her breath, Miss Parker pushed one hand through her hair, then closed her eyes. For a second, Jarod just appreciated the geometry of her face, stark and as cold as an ice sculpture. “My mother was murdered,” she said, staring into the shadows. She could have been talking to the stars, the snow. He could have been one of the flood lamps, for all the attention she was giving him. He wasn’t sure why he resented that. The tight emotion in her voice was a mix of fury and pain, and his own hand curled into a fist, resisting the urge to reach out to her. “She was murdered and they called it a suicide and I want to know why, and how, and most especially, who.”
That her mother was murdered would have been believable; but the unlooked-for opportunity to take advantage of it was almost too providential to be believed. Mild guilt tried to swamp more rising excitement. “And you think I can help.”
“Can’t you?”
It wasn’t impossible. It would be a distraction from his own efforts if he were going to find his family. But… if Miss Parker was right, the facts behind her mother’s death might be a weapon against the Centre. Something which could oust those in power, if the two of them were extremely fortunate.
“And you’ll help me find my family? You’ll have access to records I won’t. Be able to tap the mainframe for files I can't. Be able to cause chaos in places I can’t reach,” he said, quoting her words back at her. “The Centre has to have some record of where they were, who they were.” Jarod stared at her, collating and correlating and trying to sim her, predict her next move, her next request, and for once, the tightrope he walked stretched over a chasm whose depths he couldn't see.
A long moment and then, softly, she said, “Agreed. Quid pro quo.”
“Then I think you just bought yourself the services of a Pretender, Miss Parker.”
A flash of white teeth in the darkness, and she held out her hand to him. "And you just bought yourself a get out of jail free card, Jarod."
He reached out to take her hand, noting the strength in the grip as well as the talons curving into his palm. "Get out of jail free card?"
"You'll find out later. Now, we have to discuss your escape."
"I have a few ideas on that subject."
"I'll bet you do."
Laughter again, and for once, it wasn't shutting him out. A joke he could share, a plan that could be accomplished with a partner. He tilted his head back to the falling snow, and stuck out his tongue, catching one, feeling it dissolve as soon as he touched it. Then said, quietly, "Thank you for this, Miss Parker. If nothing else. No matter what happens."
Silence, and then: "Happy New Year, Jarod."
~~~
Notes:
The last AU is the one that couldn't be proved (or disproved), if we hadn't seen explicitly different in the series... because honestly, wouldn't it have made sense for Parker to help Jarod escape, if she'd had any clue that her mother was murdered? Of the other five, three fit into canon with only minor changes, and two - those with Parker as a Pretender - require more monkeying with history. A blood test gone wrong here. Another switch at birth for a viable male child there. You wouldn't even have to change the biology. On any other show, this would push it beyond plausibility, but hey, everyone ended up related to each other by the end of this show. Completely possible.
Bonus points to those who can pick out the canon lines I cribbed and used way out of context.
1. Meet Cute
2. Tommy Girl
3. Stockholm is for Suckers
4. Prisoner's Dilemma, Extended Dance Remix
5. White Leopard Habitat
6. Unique Snowflakes
5. White Leopard Habitat
Mia spotted Jarod sitting at a table near the water, and pulled her sunglasses down onto her face before striding across the Café Miami to join him. She leaned down and gave him a light peck on the cheek before dropping her shopping bags at his feet. "So, what did you order for me?"
Jarod startled at her touch, then froze for several moments as she settled into the chair across from him and picked up a menu, before he finally said, "Hold that thought." He reached for the cell phone inside his jacket. "You can have anything you want as long as you stay right there, Mia. We'll take a banquet back with us, if that's what you're in the mood for."
"Anything?" She mock-frowned at him over the menu, then grinned at the annoyed look he gave his busy-signal-buzzing cell phone. "Sorry, Jarod. May I call you Jarod? I already know almost everything about you; and calling you ‘Mr. Parker’ seems too formal under these circumstances. But you won't be able to get through to your Sweeper team."
"Do I want to know why not?" Interesting. He wasn't yelling yet. All of her information about him had indicated he didn't resemble his father in that regard. Unlike Lyle, who looked and sounded like an updated Jimmy Stewart even while burying women out in the woods, but could rage just like his good ol' boy daddy. She hadn't counted on Jarod having manners, much less the calm to match the Cary Grant packaging.
Hmmm. If she took the metaphor to its conclusion, that made Sydney a new version of Sydney Greenstreet, pulling strings behind the scenes. But who did that make her? She'd have to ask Sydney more about old movies, the next time she called. Dismissing her latest obsession from her mind, Mia returned to tormenting her current target.
"Your Sweepers are a little busy trying to keep your baby brother from being arrested for three homicides. Ah, mimosas. A must-have." Mia crooked a finger at a nearby waiter, and watched Jarod go very still out of the corner of her eye. "Two mimosas, two waffles with strawberries, lots of butter and whipped cream, and could you be a sweetheart and get my husband some more coffee?"
"Of course, Mrs. Parker."
That finally got to him, as even the mention of Lyle hadn't. Give him credit, though; aside from one strangled sound of protest, and his fingers tightening on his coffee cup, nobody else would pick up on his surprise. It appeared that Jarod Parker was all about control. Time to take that away from him.
He waited until the waiter had smiled, bowed and gone away before saying, "Husband?"
"What, you're not going to ask about the arrest?" Mia propped her chin on her left hand, drawing attention to the new diamond ring there. His eyes tracked it for a second, then flicked back to meet her eyes, giving away almost nothing. Irritation, maybe, and curiosity, but that was it. Points for that. She tapped the ring against her cheek. "I'll grant you, we didn't pick this out together, but you still paid for it. As well as my latest little spree. You should let someone else assign your PIN numbers; they're incredibly easy to access." She reached over and pulled a sheer satin nightgown out of one bag. "Do you think it's my color?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw before he said, very dryly, "I'm not going to give you an opinion unless you model it for me."
"There's a thought." One a little too pleasant to dwell on at the moment. She dropped the gown back in the bag. "So you knew about the girls."
A flicker of an eyelid, that tension along his jaw again, and then Jarod very carefully said, "I'm sure something can be worked out with the police."
"I'm sure it could be too. If they hadn't actually found the girls' bodies. With Lyle's fingerprints on the sheeting they were wrapped in." Mia heard her voice go colder, lower, braced herself for the explosion, threats, demands. "Your father can't cover this up the way he covered up Che Ling's death."
Jarod looked away, out over the water, and said nothing for an entire minute. But his shoulders relaxed. And was that a sigh of relief?
"The evidence will hold up in court?" Phrased like a question, without actually being a question. "You would have made sure of that." And then he shocked the hell out of her. "Thank you."
Mia pushed her sunglasses up to glare at him, but had to wait until after the solicitous waiter had poured their mimosas and then left again before she burst out with, "What the hell is this? You're supposed to offer me the Earth and anything else I want in order to clear him!"
"He's guilty. He's been my rival at the Centre for far too long." He smirked at her, and took a sip of his coffee. "And I never liked him, even before I found out he was my brother. I have plenty of reasons to be glad he's gone." Jarod put his coffee down and said, "In fact, I'm not even going to try to take you in today, if he's actually been arrested. Consider it a late wedding present."
"Peachy." So much for that plan. Family loyalty should have held steady no matter what. This was very, very annoying, as well as a sign that she needed much better information on Jarod Parker. "Your daddy isn't going to be pleased with you when he finds out about this, Jarod. He'll want to know why you didn't negotiate with me."
"My father's wishes aren't the sole motivation for my actions, Mia." Jarod was studying her as closely as she'd studied him. She took a sip of her mimosa to cover her discomfort. He kept his voice low, persuasive; she had to wonder how much his own latent Pretender abilities were coming into play here. "Come back with me to Blue Cove. You can be safe. I can protect you. Lyle's gone now, and I can block any plans Raines has."
"Why would that be anything I'd want, when I can have this?" Mia gestured with her goblet, taking in the blue, blue ocean, the sand, the palm trees, the people around them. Variety and sensation and life. "Thirty years of deadly simulations, no family, cotton pajamas, tasteless food, being told what to do, where to go, who to talk to-"
Jarod interrupted her, intense and sincere again. "We can change that, make you a full employee, find you better accommodations-"
Which had her cackling like a crazy woman for several minutes, then smiling even more widely as the waiter returned with their food. Jarod watched her, waiting for her to get control of herself with a bemused smile on his face. As soon as the waiter was gone, she said, "I took a bath in your suite before I came here. Just to see what Centre executives rated while on assignment. Are you ready to give up your house in Delaware to me, if that's what I want?"
Jarod blinked, opened his mouth, then swallowed. Stunned was a cute look on him, but he recovered fast. "Possibly."
Mia almost choked on a bite of strawberry. "Good one. But it's still not enough. It's my life. I'm not giving it away to anyone for any reason ever again."
"You know what the Centre's resources are. And if you keep setting up Pretends like the one you sprang on Lyle, you're going to get hurt." She could almost believe he meant it, that he was worried about her. "You can't protect yourself out here. You're alone, you're vulnerable, and you don't have any experience with the real world."
"You think so?" Mia raised an eyebrow at him. "Funny thing I've learned since I've been free. People like to help others. If I look helpless, or flash my legs, it's extremely easy to convince someone that, say, I'm being stalked by my ex-boyfriend. And get them to lie to anyone who comes looking for me." She tilted her head. "My world is full of accomplices, Jarod. Especially in a good cause."
Jarod sighed, rubbing one temple with his fingertips, then gave her a troubled look. "Mia, please. Don’t make me hunt you down."
"Better you than Lyle. Oh, wait, that's not a danger now, is it?" She gave Jarod a slow smile, and patted her lips with her napkin before standing up and retrieving her bags. "Which is what happens when someone really pisses me off. So don't say you weren't warned."
"Mia-"
Whatever new argument he was going to try, he was wasting his breath. She bent down and placed a fast, warm kiss on his mouth, then pulled back before Jarod could decide whether to return the kiss or push her away. His expression when she stopped was priceless. "Bye, honey. I'll see you back in our room," she said, loud enough to be overheard by their waiter and a couple of the other diners. She gave him a wink, pulling down her sunglasses as she murmured, "Tell Sydney I said hi, won't you?"
She could feel him watching her leave as she strode toward the exit, swinging the shopping bags from one hand, and humming Get Me to the Church On Time under her breath.
6. Unique Snowflakes
The first e-mail came through Centre channels. It was attached to data he’d needed for the latest simulation, with an anonymous file name and password protection keyed only to him. Not from Angelo; atypical. An anomaly. Supposedly impossible. One line:
There’s life outside the Centre. Do you want it?
Jarod shivered, deleted the attachment, and waited, heart pounding. A test? A threat? He should report it to Sydney immediately. Check with IT, find the source, let whoever sent it become Security’s problem. Possibilities for a new level of psychological conditioning went through his head; a program that would allow the Centre to sever his certainties even within their secure walls. Force him to cling to his captors as the only surety, even as he hated them. Hold out the hope for escape, help from within, and then snatch it back. Clever. Heavy-handed, but not without merit.
Optimal time for beginning the next level of such a program: two days. There would be demands for information regarding why he hadn’t reported the attachment, then a round of deprivations-less computer time, less privacy. Then there would be accusations that he was plotting with personnel within the Centre. Jarod ran through all the permutations, and prepared himself for interrogation. He wasn’t going to give the appearance of compliance any longer. Let the Tower understand that he worked for them only because he was forced to. He would never agree to be their willing slave again, even inside his prison.
At the end of three days, there had been no action.
He ran a trace through the system, using back doors he’d set up years before, holes in the mainframe that only he and Angelo knew about. The e-mail had gone through five departments before reaching him, and the attachment could have been added anywhere. Scanning security footage would attract too much attention if done directly, but would lead him to-
Another download, another attachment, this one opening on its own when he clicked on the file.
Don’t look for answers. You haven’t addressed the question.
Do you want out?
Shocks to the system manifested in elevated breathing, a drop in temperature, dizziness, tension-it had been so long since he’d been surprised. Much less shocked. Amazing to experience the effect of actual change, for once.
Stupid to believe. Stupid to hope. But he wasn’t stupid, had never been stupid, his whole life was what it was because he was a genius, and whoever was doing this was taking incredible risks. There was no reason for a charade to be continued; nothing to be gained for the Centre by luring him in deeper before springing the trap. The instigator here was being very cautious, enough not to get caught at this level of interaction, but… who? Why? He needed more data. He couldn’t sim their motivations, the outcome, without more data.
Yes.
A single word response.
Wait.
He deleted all traces of this attachment as well, pulse accelerating, as Sydney came back from checking on the participants in another twin experiment.
“Do you have the latest estimates for the flooding simulation, Jarod?” Sydney’s mild gaze cataloged his well-being and emotional state, as usual. The prize exhibit in the Centre zoo.
“They’re on your computer. We should talk about the evacuation procedures when you have a moment.”
“Go ahead, I have to wait for further developments from Dr. Corvici….”
Not a trace of excitement, not a hint that it was Sydney. And somehow, he'd retained the control to fool Sydney’s usually keen eye.
If it was a set-up, and a more sophisticated one than usual, he couldn’t discern the advantage in drawing it out. But who within the Centre hierarchy would have both the intelligence and the caution to approach him like this? Much less the motivation? Was the Tower jockeying for position again? Was someone hoping to discredit Sydney by inciting Jarod to escape? Another psychotic with an agenda… Raines, maybe. Lyle. He’d been hearing things about Lyle.
Another two days. Possibilities considered, eliminated, narrowed, isolated. But still not enough information, not for certainty.
Saturday. When the Centre was quieter, fewer techs in the halls, less activity on the monitors he sometimes watched just to feel less alone. Free time, at least in theory. It could be interrupted at any moment, but Jarod took advantage of the break to visit the private weight room that only he and the other Pretenders had access to, with a bored Sweeper stationed outside the door.
Under one of the weights was a note.
Sam will take over as your escort when you leave the room. Go with him.
Not one of his regular guards. And now he had a very good idea of who was behind this. But not why.
Sam, blank-faced and cold, was waiting outside the door when he got done with his shower. He followed him without comment, but paused as Sam hit the elevator button for the uppermost level, then stepped out before the doors closed. If Jarod could have put a name to the expression on the Sweeper’s face before the door closed, it might have been- threat? Uncertainty? Apprehension?
He wondered who had cut the security feeds to the elevator; who had been suborned to cover his absence from his room-and then the elevator doors were opening onto the roof, and he took his first breath of unregulated air since he was eleven.
It was snowing again.
Jarod exited the elevator and held out one hand to the drifting flakes, enchanted. Cold as he remembered, but even more beautiful. God, how could they deny him something so simple? So wonderful?
The floodlights were off, and the stars and moonlight were the only illumination. For several minutes, he stood there, letting the flakes melt on his hands, on his face, his tongue, felt the cold seep in past his Centre-standard clothes, real and inescapable.
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he said, "Aren't you going to join me?" After a beat: "Miss Parker."
He heard the hiss of a lighter being ignited, and then there was the glow of a cigarette in the shadows. She paced out of them, deliberate and slow, and stopped a few feet away, watching him. In the darkness, he could barely make out details; she was a long silhouette, sharp heels, a cloud of hair melting into rising smoke, an arc of light where her hand held the lit ember.
"What gave it away?" She sounded amused, her voice lower than he'd anticipated, a husky alto. He'd seen photos of her, read files, but there had been no live video footage; he could picture the details and fill them in now, but there were still things he didn't know about this woman.
"Sam was the final proof. Although you were the main suspect in creating this little exercise in confusion. He's been your lead Sweeper for three years now, since you stepped down as Head of Security." Jarod kept his voice even, watching her every move. She had a black belt in judo. Was probably carrying a gun. Had shot more than one person who'd gotten in her way. No kills yet, but there was always a first time. "Real-time monitoring of my station is only available to a very few. Your answers came too quickly to be going through the normal channels."
A drag on the cigarette. "Maybe you are the genius they claim you are."
"What do you want with me?" Jarod stayed still, waiting. Part of him was savoring the illusion of freedom, however temporary or limited. "Your inquiries are counter to Centre policy."
"Screw Centre policy." She stalked around him in a small circle, head down, avoiding his gaze. "I hoped to discuss the possibility of ... an alliance, I suppose."
"Alliance." And there was the wild feeling of surprise again, of horizons opening up without warning. He kept his voice mild, and only slightly bitter, disguising hope. "That only happens between equals. I'm a prisoner."
"You don't have to be."
They stared at each other for a long moment, before Jarod whispered, "At what price?"
"You can find things I can't, once you're out of here." As if it was an already accomplished fact. "Tap the mainframe for files that can't be traced to me. Cause chaos in quarters I can't reach. In other words: do exactly what you want to do anyway." Miss Parker sounded dismissive, calm, as if she weren't proposing a course of action that could get both of them killed. "Is that too much to ask?"
He stepped closer to her, close enough to make out her expression at less than arm's length away. Blank as a porcelain doll, leaning back on her spine as if bored. An executive humoring an employee, one with better things to do.
The fingers clutching her cigarette were clenched tight, hard enough to break the nails on her manicure.
"Why should I risk my safety and my continued good health for a life on the run?" Jarod asked, keeping his voice sardonic. "Freedom to die horribly in Raines' hands holds little appeal."
"You want this." That velvety voice sharpened to a snarl when thwarted, he noted. Something to remember, later. "You've been stuck here for thirty years, living other people's lives in pretend-games. You'd kill to be out there, seeing reality instead of four walls. Don't try to tell me you wouldn't."
"I'm not a killer. The life I save could be my own." He smiled, hoped she could see it in the moonlight. "You're not doing this from the kindness of your heart, Miss Parker. If you have one, I doubt the plight of one lone captive can reach it." A snort out in the darkness, and he folded his arms. "For the escape of a Pretender, and random confusion as I elude the authorities, there's an additional price." He smiled, hearing a toe tap with impatience, watching her chin tilt up. "The truth."
"Truth?"
"Two kinds." And don't give away that you're bargaining for something more important than your life, your freedom, your sanity.… “I want to know what happened to my parents. And I want to know why you’re doing this.”
She looked away, and after a long moment, dropped her cigarette, grinding it under her heel, still avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know what happened to your parents. I don’t know anything about them.” A long sigh, and for the first time her shoulders slumped. “And I want to know what happened to mine.”
“Your parents?” Jarod frowned, intrigued and wary. “Your family’s history is an open book.” One which he was unwilling to get into. He’d seen the results of her losses of temper.
“Written by someone with all the veracity of the Weekly World News.”
“The what?”
“Forget it.” Muttering under her breath, Miss Parker pushed one hand through her hair, then closed her eyes. For a second, Jarod just appreciated the geometry of her face, stark and as cold as an ice sculpture. “My mother was murdered,” she said, staring into the shadows. She could have been talking to the stars, the snow. He could have been one of the flood lamps, for all the attention she was giving him. He wasn’t sure why he resented that. The tight emotion in her voice was a mix of fury and pain, and his own hand curled into a fist, resisting the urge to reach out to her. “She was murdered and they called it a suicide and I want to know why, and how, and most especially, who.”
That her mother was murdered would have been believable; but the unlooked-for opportunity to take advantage of it was almost too providential to be believed. Mild guilt tried to swamp more rising excitement. “And you think I can help.”
“Can’t you?”
It wasn’t impossible. It would be a distraction from his own efforts if he were going to find his family. But… if Miss Parker was right, the facts behind her mother’s death might be a weapon against the Centre. Something which could oust those in power, if the two of them were extremely fortunate.
“And you’ll help me find my family? You’ll have access to records I won’t. Be able to tap the mainframe for files I can't. Be able to cause chaos in places I can’t reach,” he said, quoting her words back at her. “The Centre has to have some record of where they were, who they were.” Jarod stared at her, collating and correlating and trying to sim her, predict her next move, her next request, and for once, the tightrope he walked stretched over a chasm whose depths he couldn't see.
A long moment and then, softly, she said, “Agreed. Quid pro quo.”
“Then I think you just bought yourself the services of a Pretender, Miss Parker.”
A flash of white teeth in the darkness, and she held out her hand to him. "And you just bought yourself a get out of jail free card, Jarod."
He reached out to take her hand, noting the strength in the grip as well as the talons curving into his palm. "Get out of jail free card?"
"You'll find out later. Now, we have to discuss your escape."
"I have a few ideas on that subject."
"I'll bet you do."
Laughter again, and for once, it wasn't shutting him out. A joke he could share, a plan that could be accomplished with a partner. He tilted his head back to the falling snow, and stuck out his tongue, catching one, feeling it dissolve as soon as he touched it. Then said, quietly, "Thank you for this, Miss Parker. If nothing else. No matter what happens."
Silence, and then: "Happy New Year, Jarod."
~~~
Notes:
The last AU is the one that couldn't be proved (or disproved), if we hadn't seen explicitly different in the series... because honestly, wouldn't it have made sense for Parker to help Jarod escape, if she'd had any clue that her mother was murdered? Of the other five, three fit into canon with only minor changes, and two - those with Parker as a Pretender - require more monkeying with history. A blood test gone wrong here. Another switch at birth for a viable male child there. You wouldn't even have to change the biology. On any other show, this would push it beyond plausibility, but hey, everyone ended up related to each other by the end of this show. Completely possible.
Bonus points to those who can pick out the canon lines I cribbed and used way out of context.
1. Meet Cute
2. Tommy Girl
3. Stockholm is for Suckers
4. Prisoner's Dilemma, Extended Dance Remix
5. White Leopard Habitat
6. Unique Snowflakes