Rules of the Game
folder
M through R › Pretender
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
4,016
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Pretender
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
4,016
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Pretender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Rules of the Game, pt. 3
Here's part 3... see part 1 for disclaimer.
*Gone...*
He wasn't really surprised to find the room empty but it still felt like a kick in the stomach. In the middle of the bed lay a PEZ dispenser - Wonder Woman, circa 1978, a collector's item - under which he found a one-line note in Parker's hand:
*Looks like you won't have to sleep alone tonight after all.*
He sank down onto the bed laughing bitterly until, dropping his head into his hands, his laughter dissolved into deep, body-shaking sobs; his pain made more excruciating by the intense shame that accompanied it. He was ashamed of the sordid scene that had played out, he was ashamed of Parker's behavior and of his own but, above all, he was ashamed that what bothered him most was coming back to that empty room. He had wanted her to be there when he returned. He had wanted to fight with her, to scold her for her actions, to have it out with her the way he could with no one else. He had wanted to goad her, to torment her, to get to her the way he knew that only he could. He had wanted her to be there when he returned. He had wanted her to be there. He wanted her there. He wanted her...
* * * *
*Well, I guess that's that...*
She clicked off her cell phone and tossed it onto the seat beside her. She had checked in with Sandy who informed her that Jarod's car had indeed arrived. Parker had arranged for it to be towed from where he'd left it in the Park. There was no point, after all, in being senselessly cruel. She knew he would be compelled to keep moving and hitchhiking was a dangerous proposition these days, even for a pretender.
She smiled contentedly, enjoying the feel of the wind in her hair, having stopped at a gas station about 20 minutes into the trip to pick up a soda and, while she was at it, put the top down on her rented Chrysler Sebring. Not a bad car, it wasn't her Boxter by any means but it hugged the road nicely. And it was a classy color - a pale grayish-green - the kind you keep looking at over and over again, never entirely convinced of the true shade. Parker liked that. Today, she liked a lot of things and decided on impulse that she would stop in Maryland for dinner on the way home - soft-shell crabs, a rare treat. Why not, she reasoned, her stomach felt fine.
* * * *
Jarod had no idea how much time had passed, but reckoned it had probably been hours when he was roused into consciousness by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He had a fair idea of who it was before he even picked it up. It was a call he was expecting.
"Son?" the man on other end spoke hesitantly in a hushed tone.
"Hi, Dad..." Jarod greeted in a weary voice.
"I know it's risky to contact you but I'm very concerned. Zoe has come back; she's very upset but won't tell us what's wrong. She's started packing up her things and will only say that she's going home. I don't know what to make of it and the boy is terribly upset."
Jarod closed his eyes and let out a deep breath then stated flatly, "She's going home, Dad."
"Home? Is that alright? I mean, are you sure she'll be safe?"
"She will now," Jarod replied tersely, frowning.
"Oh, Son, I'm... this is... I don't know what to..." The older man felt the sudden weight of 30 years separation as he vainly struggled to find the words to comfort his own child.
"It's okay, Dad. Only, please don't let her leave tonight. She's upset and in no conditio beo be out on the road alone after dark. Persuade her to eat something if you can but, whatever you do, insist that she get some sleep. Then, tomorrow morning, if she's up to it," he paused a moment for a shaky breath, "let her go."
"As you wish, Son. Don't worry, we won't let her leave until we're sure she can travel safely."
"Thanks, Dad. I have to go now. It's time to get moving."
"Okay, Son, love you."
"Love you too."
Jarod stared at the phone for a moment, contemplating. There was a call he yearned to make but it would have to wait. He did need to get moving again but was somewhat hindered by the 20 or so miles now separating him from his vehicle. He would take a long, hot shower then figure out what to do next. So far he was sure of only one thing; he would not spend the night in that room. He tossed the phone aside, slipped all ten fingers into his hair and vigorously scratched his scalp, stood and stretched emitting a loud groan, then shuffled off in the direction of the bathroom.
He emerged into the darkness of the clear, cool evening, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of his car parked right in front of the door. Apparently she had thought of everything. He shrugged then began to fish in his pockets for the key. Locating it in a front pocket of his jeans, he muttered, "Thanks a lot, Miss Parker," unlocked the door and climbed in.
He decided he would drive all night. Jarod liked driving through the night; he reveled in the sense of freedom he felt on the open road, alone under the stars. Only he wasn't free, not really; he had never been free. And, ironically, it was the event he had always associated with his emancipation - his escape from the Centre - that had served to reinforce his captivity by bringing him into regular contact with her for the first time since they were children. What's more, he didn't even think he wanted to be free, a rather startling revelation for a man who had ostensibly fought so hard for his freedom.
His mind was reeling again; he needed to think. He needed to concentrate in order to sort it out. He needed... clarity. Jarod remembered the call he had wanted to place earlier and picked up his cell phone. He yanked the antenna up with his teeth then hit one of the pre-programmed auto-dial numbers and waited anxiously, praying the party on the other end would pick up. He was both profoundly relieved and deeply grateful to hear the familiar voice issue the customary greeting,
"This is Sydney."
TBC...
*Gone...*
He wasn't really surprised to find the room empty but it still felt like a kick in the stomach. In the middle of the bed lay a PEZ dispenser - Wonder Woman, circa 1978, a collector's item - under which he found a one-line note in Parker's hand:
*Looks like you won't have to sleep alone tonight after all.*
He sank down onto the bed laughing bitterly until, dropping his head into his hands, his laughter dissolved into deep, body-shaking sobs; his pain made more excruciating by the intense shame that accompanied it. He was ashamed of the sordid scene that had played out, he was ashamed of Parker's behavior and of his own but, above all, he was ashamed that what bothered him most was coming back to that empty room. He had wanted her to be there when he returned. He had wanted to fight with her, to scold her for her actions, to have it out with her the way he could with no one else. He had wanted to goad her, to torment her, to get to her the way he knew that only he could. He had wanted her to be there when he returned. He had wanted her to be there. He wanted her there. He wanted her...
* * * *
*Well, I guess that's that...*
She clicked off her cell phone and tossed it onto the seat beside her. She had checked in with Sandy who informed her that Jarod's car had indeed arrived. Parker had arranged for it to be towed from where he'd left it in the Park. There was no point, after all, in being senselessly cruel. She knew he would be compelled to keep moving and hitchhiking was a dangerous proposition these days, even for a pretender.
She smiled contentedly, enjoying the feel of the wind in her hair, having stopped at a gas station about 20 minutes into the trip to pick up a soda and, while she was at it, put the top down on her rented Chrysler Sebring. Not a bad car, it wasn't her Boxter by any means but it hugged the road nicely. And it was a classy color - a pale grayish-green - the kind you keep looking at over and over again, never entirely convinced of the true shade. Parker liked that. Today, she liked a lot of things and decided on impulse that she would stop in Maryland for dinner on the way home - soft-shell crabs, a rare treat. Why not, she reasoned, her stomach felt fine.
* * * *
Jarod had no idea how much time had passed, but reckoned it had probably been hours when he was roused into consciousness by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He had a fair idea of who it was before he even picked it up. It was a call he was expecting.
"Son?" the man on other end spoke hesitantly in a hushed tone.
"Hi, Dad..." Jarod greeted in a weary voice.
"I know it's risky to contact you but I'm very concerned. Zoe has come back; she's very upset but won't tell us what's wrong. She's started packing up her things and will only say that she's going home. I don't know what to make of it and the boy is terribly upset."
Jarod closed his eyes and let out a deep breath then stated flatly, "She's going home, Dad."
"Home? Is that alright? I mean, are you sure she'll be safe?"
"She will now," Jarod replied tersely, frowning.
"Oh, Son, I'm... this is... I don't know what to..." The older man felt the sudden weight of 30 years separation as he vainly struggled to find the words to comfort his own child.
"It's okay, Dad. Only, please don't let her leave tonight. She's upset and in no conditio beo be out on the road alone after dark. Persuade her to eat something if you can but, whatever you do, insist that she get some sleep. Then, tomorrow morning, if she's up to it," he paused a moment for a shaky breath, "let her go."
"As you wish, Son. Don't worry, we won't let her leave until we're sure she can travel safely."
"Thanks, Dad. I have to go now. It's time to get moving."
"Okay, Son, love you."
"Love you too."
Jarod stared at the phone for a moment, contemplating. There was a call he yearned to make but it would have to wait. He did need to get moving again but was somewhat hindered by the 20 or so miles now separating him from his vehicle. He would take a long, hot shower then figure out what to do next. So far he was sure of only one thing; he would not spend the night in that room. He tossed the phone aside, slipped all ten fingers into his hair and vigorously scratched his scalp, stood and stretched emitting a loud groan, then shuffled off in the direction of the bathroom.
He emerged into the darkness of the clear, cool evening, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of his car parked right in front of the door. Apparently she had thought of everything. He shrugged then began to fish in his pockets for the key. Locating it in a front pocket of his jeans, he muttered, "Thanks a lot, Miss Parker," unlocked the door and climbed in.
He decided he would drive all night. Jarod liked driving through the night; he reveled in the sense of freedom he felt on the open road, alone under the stars. Only he wasn't free, not really; he had never been free. And, ironically, it was the event he had always associated with his emancipation - his escape from the Centre - that had served to reinforce his captivity by bringing him into regular contact with her for the first time since they were children. What's more, he didn't even think he wanted to be free, a rather startling revelation for a man who had ostensibly fought so hard for his freedom.
His mind was reeling again; he needed to think. He needed to concentrate in order to sort it out. He needed... clarity. Jarod remembered the call he had wanted to place earlier and picked up his cell phone. He yanked the antenna up with his teeth then hit one of the pre-programmed auto-dial numbers and waited anxiously, praying the party on the other end would pick up. He was both profoundly relieved and deeply grateful to hear the familiar voice issue the customary greeting,
"This is Sydney."
TBC...