Author:
Mandy
Rating:
NC-17
Spoilers:
All of Season 4.
Key
words: JMPR, J/O, slash.
Note:
Pretender/Now and Again crossover.
Disclaimer: The characters
and their worlds’ don’t belong to me, the words and concepts
do.
Paint It
Black.
“Everybody deserves their freedom.” His
last words to me echo in the cool night. Perhaps only in my mind. I stamp my
feet in the snow and tuck my jacket around me tighter. Somewhere nearby the
Rolling Stones play, ‘Paint It Black’. Reflects how I feel right now.
“Everybody deserves their freedom.” Such
sad eyes, watching me from the other side of the limo. His handcuffed wrists
bruised.
“Everybody deserves their freedom. Even me
Miss Parker.”
“Stop it.” I mutter to myself, and shiver
under the dim halo of the streetlamp. Snowflakes drift from above. I hate New
York in the winter.
“One last favour, before you go. Then
you’re gone for good, I promise.” Daddy had said. I look back over at the limo,
where Jarod sits inside. Lucky bastard. I’m sure the heating is delicious. Sam
cracks the window with an electronic buzz.
“Everything ok, Miss P?” he calls. I nod,
waving him off. I hear Jarod say something, then a low grunt of pain as Sam
responds. Don’t wince Parker, it didn’t hurt you. I stamp my feet again, wishing
I had a cigarette and wishing I had worn pants instead of a skirt. My nylons
aren’t much protection against the cold.
“Hello darkness.” A deep voice behind me
intones.
“My old friend.” I reply. There is a beat.
“Who makes this stuff up? James Bond?” A
young male voice jokes. I frown, turning to face the men behind me.
“Miss Parker, I believe.” Says the taller
of the two, an elegant black man with spectacles perched upon his nose. Behind
him stands a younger man in his mid-twenties, indecently attractive and grinning
hopefully. I ignore him.
“Dr. Morris. Where is the subject?” I ask
coolly. The younger man stiffens angrily.
“Miss Parker, meet Mr Wiseman… the
subject.” Morris informs me. I turn, eyeing Wiseman critically.
“Why is he not properly restrained?” I ask
haltingly. Mr Wiseman stands with his hands in his pockets, looking very
cheerful for a man who is government property. Dr Morris’ expression gathers an
edge.
“Mr Wiseman knows the consequences should
he attempt to escape.” I nod, still studying the specimen. I realised long ago
that part of what made the hunt for Jarod hard was I viewed him as an old
friend. My mistake was in viewing him as a person in the first place.
“Shall we adjourn to my limo? We have much
to discuss.” I say. I didn’t go to Swedish finishing schools for nothing.
Carefully I climb inside, and I send Sam off with instructions to meet us later.
He hesitates.
“Miss Parker, what about Jarod?” he asks.
Like I can’t handle Jarod.
“If Jarod runs I’ll shoot him. Don’t be
concerned about Jarod.” I snarl, and Sam hurries off, leaving room for Dr Morris
and Mr Wiseman to climb into the seats opposite. While I wait for them to get
comfortable, I lean over to Jarod.
“Make a move and the upholstery is ruined,
understand?” I hiss, and settle my gun on my leg, in plain view. Mr Wiseman
stares at it in alarm.
“Is that a gun on your leg, or are you
just happy to see me?” he cracks nervously. Jarod chuckles in amusement beside
me. I elbow him sharply in the ribs.
“My apologies, gentleman, the gun is for
Jarod’s benefit.” I cast a pointed look at Wiseman, sitting free and easy. “We
don’t want your labrat giving my labrat any ideas.”
Morris practically bristles at this. As
the limo pulls away from the curb he takes a long moment to study Jarod, noting
the bruises on his wrists and face. I meet his gaze. I will not back down. A few
more days and I am free. Beside him, Wiseman also studies Jarod. Jarod stares at
my legs. I remember why I wore the skirt.
“I must admit Miss Parker, I was not
expecting the Centre to be so open to a meeting. I look forward to the exchange
of information.” Morris begins politely. But I am in no mood for chitchat.
“Cut the crap Morris. We both know things
went bad between the Centre and the Pentagon long ago. The only reason you and I
are sitting here now is because we want what you’ve got and you want what we’ve
got, and neither of us can figure out a way to steal it.” Jarod looks up from my
legs, casts a glance at Wiseman, then moves onto staring at my breasts. Morris
smiles without humour. Wiseman watches Jarod.
“I know what we’ve got.” Wiseman
interrupts softly. He looks up to meet my eyes unflinchingly. “But what have you
got?”
“Mr Wiseman…” Morris murmurs warningly. I
will meet his challenge.
“Mr Wiseman, meet Jarod. Jarod is, without
fail, the smartest human being on the planet. He is a Pretender, able to become
anybody he wants to be.” I declare. I always did have a flair for the dramatic.
Jarod frowns beside me, saying nothing. ‘Everybody deserves their freedom,’
whispers in my ear again. Get out of my head you freak.
Wiseman is beginning to look more an more
alarmed. He looks at me, then at Jarod, at Morris and back to me again.
“Oh no.” he mutters. Morris frowns in
confusion. “Doc you’re not… after all this time… you’re not going to dump me and
grab Einstein’s brain here are you?” he cries. Jarod looks up sharply. I really,
really need a smoke.
“Mr Wiseman, I can assure you… nothing on
this earth would convince us to give up Jarod’s brain. It stays put.” I murmur.
Wiseman looks more confused than ever.
“So what is it you two want off each
other?” he asks. I smile.
“The Centre wants something out of your
head, actually. The transmitter. It far surpasses anything we have designed yet.
And Dr Morris here wants a loan of Jarod. To study him for future projects.” I
finish. Wiseman stares.
“So where are we going now?” I smile
tightly, letting Morris answer that one.
“The Centre and the Pentagon have agreed
to a trade. However, I only get Jarod for forty-eight hours, and a Centre
representative must be with him at all times. We’re going back to the
townhouse.”
****
“Nice place. When do you move the rest of
the furniture in?” Parker remarks sarcastically. Wiseman chuckles in
appreciation. I shuffle forward slowly. My chained ankles don’t make anything
easy. Morris closes the heavy door and covertly inputs a code into the locking
system. I memorise the numbers.
Parker is right with her observation. The
rooms are bare to the point of looking sterile. A small pool is the focal point
of one such room, and I stare at the inviting water. Oh to be free and float
effortlessly. Two days in captivity and already I miss such things. Miss Parker
nudges me. I look up at her sadly, and she turns away quickly. She keeps a firm
grip of the chain on my handcuffs though.
“It was agreed that the tests- and the
forty-eight hours- shall start tomorrow?” Dr Morris confirms. Mr Wiseman removes
his jacket and hangs it up carefully, then tosses a quick, reassuring smile at
me. I don’t smile back. Miss Parker nods, then turns to me.
“We will be staying here tonight Jarod.”
She says slowly, as if I’m a child. I understand she’s trying to keep her
distance, but it hurts anyway.
“Perhaps you could release Jarod from his
restraints and Mr Wiseman here could show him around.” Morris murmurs quietly.
Miss Parker hesitates for a moment, then nods. Thank god for small favours. She
kneels carefully and unlocks my ankle shackles, then uncuff’s my wrists. Wiseman
leads me from the room, showing me to a small but functional bathroom. I watch
the ease with which he walks, possessing a stunningly attractive body that
doesn’t belong to him. Beautiful indeed. In the background I can hear Morris and
Miss Parker discussing something with great intensity.
“I thought you might want to wash up. You
can call me Michael, by the way.” Wiseman whispers.
“Thankyou Mr- thankyou Michael.” I whisper
back. Gratefully I make use of the facilities, sighing in bliss as I splash
water on my face and hands. Its been a long two days. I emerge from the bathroom
to find Michael waiting for me. He shows me to the gym, explaining in a warm,
quiet voice that he works out here everyday. I nod. Michael seems caught in a
moral dilemma, he stands on the gym floor hesitating for a few moments.
Eventually, something wins out.
“Is it true? What she said? Are you the
smartest man?” he asks in a low voice.
“Yes. And I suppose its true that they
harvested your brain from another body and put it in this one?” Michael nods and
smiles, a beautiful smile too.
“We make an odd couple then, don’t we? Get
some spandex costumes and we could be superheroes. You can be Captain Brain and
I’ll be Mr Strong.” he mutters, and laughs at his own joke. I smile sadly.
“Jarod?” I can hear Miss Parker call. I
turn quickly and head for the sound of her voice. Pissing her off and getting
shot isn’t very high on my agenda right now. Michael lopes after me easily,
while I walk somewhat painfully. Sam packs a hell of a punch.
I find Parker standing beside a double
mattress that’s obviously been set up in a bit of a hurry. On the other side of
the pool I can see a similar bed in a raised area, obviously Michael’s. Her gun
and bag are no where in sight, and she is wearing rather shapeless red satin
pyjamas. She gazes at me coolly. The Ice Queen cometh.
“Where’s the Doc?” Michael asks. Parker
doesn’t take her eyes off me. I check out her legs, just to annoy.
“Dr Morris left. He will be back at seven
tomorrow.” She throws me a bundle of clothes. “Go change.” I bow my head, the
picture of submission, and limp off towards the bathroom.
“And Jarod?” she calls after me. “Don’t
worry about the door. I had Dr Morris change the codes before he left.”
Any hope of escape I had dies with her
words. The only chance I have left is Michael… who is just as much a prisoner as
I am. I change quickly, trotting back downstairs in time to see Miss Parker
smiling at something Michael has said. Jealousy flashes through me, hot and
painful. I pause, a few feet away from them, and watch Michael with suspicious
eyes. What if he is one of the enemy after all? The Centre’s conspiracies know
no bounds.
“I should go to bed.” Michael says,
breaking the uncomfortable silence that has fallen. He smiles, uncertainly, at
both of us in turn, then turns and jogs up to his own bed. Miss Parker beckons
me closer, and carefully attaches one bracelet of the handcuffs to my wrist and
one bracelet to hers. She tugs, painfully, until I follow.
“We’re… we’re sharing?” I ask nervously as
we get closer to the bed. She casts me a disdainful look.
“Like I’m going to leave you to your own
devices.” She mutters, and clambers up onto the bed, pulling me along beside
her. She lays down, turning away from me, leaving only the handcuffed wrist away
from her body.
“Goodnight!” calls Michael. Two minutes
later the lights click out. Silence falls heavy.
“Go to sleep Jarod.” Miss Parker murmurs,
her voice a little more gentle.
“Even Michael has more freedom than me.” I
whisper. Miss Parker raises her head, the coldness is back again.
“Go to sleep Jarod.”
****
“I’m going to increase the speed now
Jarod. Do you feel comfortable with that?” Dr Morris asks. Jarod nods, his eyes
trained on the far brick wall as he picks up the pace on the treadmill.
Electrodes hang from his sweat covered body. Miss Parker sits near by, leafing
through a magazine.
“I wish I had of been in this sort of
shape at forty.” I mutter, eyeing Jarod’s broad shoulder’s and strong arms.
“And this is all because Jarod maintained
the diet we’ve put you on for most of his life.” Doc mutters to me. Whatever.
Still doesn’t beat bacon and eggs.
“He’s forty-one. We think.” Miss Parker
calls. Jarod’s mouth tightens in anger. The Doc turns around in surprise.
“You’re not sure of his exact age?” he
asks. Miss Parker pauses from her magazine.
“It was decided that Pretenders should be
unaffected by the outside world. This is included birthdays. Until four years
ago, Jarod was completely free from contamination.” She says the last word like
it’s a disease. Contamination from what? Other humans? Morris tilts his head in
confusion.
“Four years? What happened four years
ago?” he asks. Something I’ve been wondering myself. I have a moment of pity for
Jarod, obviously furious. He triggers something in me. Companionship, perhaps?
“He escaped. He was recaptured just two
days ago. I myself oversaw his recovery.” Parker responds, and returns to her
magazine. Quick as a flash, Jarod slams his hand down on the emergency stop
button, tearing the wires and electrodes from his body in fury. He rounds on all
of us, his heated gaze directed at Miss Parker.
“Damn you Parker, damn you to hell!” he
growls, stepping forward. “Don’t treat me like an animal when you’re no better
than me, than any of us!” Parker stands, drawing her gun and training it on his
heart.
“Restrain yourself Jarod, or I will do it
for you.” She tells him. Jarod laughs bitterly.
“You wouldn’t kill me Parker. You may be a
bitch, but you’re not a killer!” he takes another step forward. The Doc casts me
a look, like I should be doing something. I’m having too much fun watching to
interfere though. It’s like a soap opera.
“You’re right Jarod, I wouldn’t kill you.”
Miss Parker says menacingly. Her gun drops lower, trained on his leg. “But I
will shoot you if you don’t get your ass back on that treadmill. What will it
be, Jarod, your leg or your pride?”
“Enough! Miss Parker put away your gun!”
the Doc thunders beside me. Miss Parker gets a stubborn pout on her face. In a
way she almost reminds me of Lisa. A way, way nastier Lisa who carries a gun.
Parker puts away the gun, and Jarod slumps away in defeat, throwing himself on a
bench. The Doc steps forward, calm and collected in Armani. I know him well
enough now to see that underneath the cool demeanour he is furious.
“Mr Wiseman and I are going out to get
some lunch for us all. I suggest, in the meantime, that you two settle your
differences. May I remind you, Miss Parker, that the trade outlined we have use
of Jarod for thirty-six hours. This involves Jarod being fully operational,
having use of all limbs and all vital organs, and being strictly under *my*
control! You two bickering like school children is unacceptable! Lets go, Mr
Wiseman.” He storms, and leads the way out. I snare my jacket on the way,
stepping out into the chill air. Outside, the Doc pauses, taking several deep
breathes.
“You know, their arguments make ours look
like lovers quarrels.” I joke. We begin to walk. I see a hotdog stand on the
horizon, and start praying.
“I *despise* Centre operatives.” Morris
mutters beside me.
“Then why deal with them?” I ask. We turn
a corner. The hotdog fantasy goes out the window.
“Sometimes it is necessary, if only to
keep up good relations. The Centre is a very dangerous organization, and the
government likes to stay on their good side.” There is a pause in the
conversation.
“But how powerful can they be? Why not
just send a few CIA or FBI or NSA- some damn government suits- to knock on their
door, how you doing, wham, bam no more Centre?!” the Doc sighs like the answer
is obvious.
“Because, Mr Wiseman, the American
government has two very simple reasons for leaving them alone. First of all, the
Centre, although dealing with things in a most distasteful manner, has had some
extraordinary results. And second of all,” Morris pauses, adjusting his glasses,
“They hold more power than the American government ever could.”
I stop dead in my tracks, trying to ignore
the bakery I’m standing next to. Did he just say what I think he said? The
Centre, an organization I personally have never heard of, has more power than
the massive institution such as the one that created me? The one that spent
*three billion dollars* creating me? Morris continues.
“You must remember Mr Wiseman, information
is power. The government has information on how to run countries, how to fight
wars and feed millions. This is a big country, we have a lot of information…but
we have knowledge that directly applies to successfully maintaining a nation.
Even you are a part of that, as you help to uphold this nations security.
“Organizations like the Centre aren’t
bound by these needs. They gather information for the sole purpose of gaining
power, Mr Wiseman. Our government supports them to have a little piece of this
power. But that’s not the only thing to be worried about. You see, we are but
one nation, allied with others admittedly, but when it comes to most things we
stand alone. The Centre is *global* Mr Wiseman. They have the support of the
American government, the German government, the Japanese, the Chinese, the
Russian, the British, the Australians, every major player in the world! The
American government is massive, and perhaps eventually that will be a part of
their downfall, because although small, the Centre is infinitely more powerful.”
****
My favourite labrat is obscenely happy as
we head back to the townhouse. My revelations may have left him shell shocked
for a few minutes, but that passed when I led the way into a McDonalds. I was
feeling kind. I may live to regret it.
Under my arm is tucked a few paper sacks
full of sandwiches, Mr Wiseman carries a cardboard tray with a few cups of
coffee on it. He’s grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, having consumed
two big Macs and a chocolate thick shake while I looked the other way. So to
speak. I’ve never seen a man cram food into his mouth that quickly before.
“Wanna place bets?” he asks as we mount
the shallow steps to the townhouse door.
“On what, Mr Wiseman?” I say as coolly as
possible. Distance is the key.
“Which one killed the other?”
I ignore his comment, opening the door and
heading to the gym. We both stop in shock. This is not at all what I expected.
Jarod remains on the same bench we left him on… but now he is handcuffed there.
His arms are drawn over his head, the muscles in his arms straining… however he
doesn’t seem to be complaining. Miss Parker is draped over him, her gun at his
head. And her mouth sealed to his. They’re kissing like it’s a dying art.
“What the…?” Wiseman mutters. My
sentiments exactly. Miss Parker raises her head at the noise, her face flushed
and her lips swollen. Jarod pants under her. She stands, awkwardly, and smooths
down her skirt. Flashes a predatory smile, tucking her gun into the waistband of
her skirt.
“We, uh, sorted out our differences.” She
explains, laughing slightly. Jarod turns his head away in something I could
swear is anguish.
“I’ll say.” Wiseman ventures. His grin of
ecstasy has worn off, replaced with shock and mild amusement. We cast knowing
glances at each other. I knew there was something else behind the anger. Miss
Parker watches both of us for a moment, then kneels beside Jarod, withdrawing
the key to the handcuffs from somewhere inside her top. Most likely her bra. She
undoes the steel bracelets almost apologetically, helping Jarod to sit up and
smoothing back a stray lock of hair. That almost looks like tenderness. Perhaps
there is a warm heart behind the ice after all. Jarod, however, looks angry,
jerking away from her hand. Miss Parker sets her mouth in a thin line and turns
away.
I let Mr Wiseman absorb all this. I have
my own agenda in bringing these Centre agents here. Show him how cruel fate
could have been. A subtle message I know he will pick up. Perhaps now he will be
more thankful for my lenience.
“We brought you some lunch.” I say
quietly, interrupting the little scene. Miss Parker nods, taking the paper bags
and coffee from us. She passes a cup and a bag to Jarod, who dives in eagerly,
pulling out sandwiches and devouring them. She takes a peek in the second bag,
throwing it next to Jarod in disgust. A Twinkie tumbles out. I hide a smile. My
treat to Jarod. In the third bag she finds more sandwiches, and perches on the
edge of a chair to nibble at them delicately. Mr Wiseman eyes the Twinkie that
lies beside Jarod.
“Don’t even think about it.” I whisper. He
pouts beside me. Miss Parker approaches me warily, half eaten sandwich in hand.
“Doctor Morris, may I have a word?” I nod,
leading her away, towards the pool. I wait patiently while she fights a losing
battle.
“About… about what you saw… between Jarod
and I…” she murmurs. This hurts her, I can tell, she wants to fight and scream
and yell to get her way.
“Yes?” I encourage. She takes a deep
breath.
“I would appreciate it if… if that little
incident did not get back to anyone else at the Centre.” Parker says, and
suddenly becomes fascinated with the ring on her finger. I smile, tight and
cruel.
“Why, scared you’ll lose your job?” I’ll
watch her squirm, I will. Nobody deserves to be treated the way she treats
Jarod.
“No.” She whispers. Didn’t think so. She
raises her head. And I’m wrong, I’m horribly wrong. She’s crying a bit, a few
tears not quite being shed.
“I’ll lose my life. And Jarod… Jarod would
suffer a fate worse than death.” She chokes a little now, fiercely wiping the
tears away. She’s strong, Miss Parker.
“Jarod and I… are complicated. We share a
lot of history, and that can’t ever be erased. That’s why I’m cruel and callous
with his feelings, Doctor Morris, but he’ll suffer more than indignation at the
Centre. I can’t let myself be his friend, because I won’t watch another person I
care about suffer because of me.” She finishes, almost angry, at me or the world
I can’t tell.
“Rest assured, Miss Parker.” I say,
desperate to comfort this puzzling woman. “I’ll never breathe a word.”
"I’m going to monitor your reactions
to certain stimuli. Just lean back and relax, Jarod, I will do the rest.”
Dr Morris tells Jarod. Jarod nods slowly, clutching a Twinkie with one
hand, an IV hanging out of his wrist. I notice Wiseman has got a hold of
one of the sweets too. Jarod’s hooked up to some sort of machine,
electrodes hanging once more from his temples and body. One screen shows
the steady rate of his heartbeat. He is half reclining in a chair, wearing
only the jeans he came in, facing a big screen.
“The lights please, Mr Wiseman.” Dr Morris
instructs. Jarod casts a furtive glance over at me. His eyes are
soft and appealing, and as Wiseman hits the lights they shine at me in the
darkness.
“Pay attention please Jarod.” Morris
murmurs quietly. Jarod looks at the screen. Mr Wiseman moves to sit
beside me, grinning.
“What are you so happy about, Captain
America?” I hiss. His smile only gets bigger.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in
weeks. Normally I’m bored out of my brain.” He whispers back.
Something flashes on the screen, something I don’t catch, and Jarod
flinches. Morris studies the information that comes from the graph, its
little scribbling pens scratching in the silence.
“I’m glad we’re proving to be such great
entertainment for you.” I mutter. Wiseman chuckles beside me. Some
sort of mathematical formula flashes brightly. Jarod frowns.
“All I’m missing is the popcorn.” Wiseman
cracks beside me. I turn to look at him, and something else flashes on the
screen. Jarod makes a soft little noise, like a whimper of pain.
Morris is frowning over his readouts, and I can see Jarod’s heart rate speeding
up slightly. The flashes are giving me a headache.
“I can guarantee there’ll be no making out
in the back row of this Technicolor experience.” I mutter back. Wiseman
laughs, interrupted by Jarod’s soft yelp as Hitler appears. Morris looks
up as Jarod begins to shift with discomfort in his chair.
“I don’t want to…to do this…” he murmurs,
almost to himself.
“Pay attention Jarod!” Dr Morris
demands. Wiseman loses his smile as Jarod squirms, his gaze locked on the
visions that appear. A bloody child. Doctors around a patient.
A chained circus elephant.
“Hey Doc.” Wiseman calls in alarm,
watching the heart monitor speed up. Morris ignores him, poring over the
readouts. An EEG, I remember its name now. Christ on the
cross. Moslems throwing rocks at tanks. Pearl Harbour.
“Doc he’s freaking!” Wiseman stands up,
and Jarod cries out. I’ve seen this before. Jarod holds an instant
empathy to things he is focused on, truly focused on, and the feelings he’s
having are obviously intensified by whatever drug Dr Morris is pumping into his
system. The more pain and suffering he sees on the screen above him, the
more sensitised he becomes to it.
“This is incredible!” Doctor Morris cries,
not hearing the things that are happening around him. Wiseman dashes
towards the projector, reaching to pull the plug out of the wall. A
picture of Lyle, my most despised brother, flashes up. Jarod groans
hoarsely, and the room goes dark.
Jarod sobs quietly, and I don’t know what
to do. I step forward, my hands useless as they hover over his body.
I let one settle on his shoulder, my own attempt at comfort.
“Kyle. Kyle!” he whispers, brokenly.
“You acted prematurely Mr Wiseman.” Doctor
Morris growls. Jarod reaches for me, extending one hand to clasp at mine.
“The guy was about to have a seizure!” Mr
Wiseman yells. He turns on the lights, and Jarod sits up, tugging me
closer to rest his head on my hip. I stare in surprise at him, only half
listening to what is happening behind us.
“I had it under control! You simply
need to learn a little restraint!” Morris yells.
“He killed my brother Parker.” Jarod
whispers, and I nod, moving my hand from his back to stroke his neck.
“Restraint? I *know*
restraint! I know restraint every time I walk away from my wife, my
daughter!” Wiseman yells. I look over at him in surprise. The
subject has a family?
“My baby brother.” Jarod mutters.
“And that restraint fails you every time I
let you off your leash. Always remember, Mr Wiseman, I am in control!”
Morris says quietly, dangerously. I realise now is the time I must
intervene.
“You’re wrong, Doctor Morris. Jarod
is Centre property, and as the Centre’s representative I say what goes. It
is my responsibility to return Jarod undamaged, and that includes damage of the
psychological variety. Showing Jarod pictures of his brothers killer and
my twin is not helpful. Testing in this vein shall halt immediately or we
shall withdraw from the trade.” I state coldly. I must look a sight,
saying such frozen words whilst clutching a distraught Pretender to my hip.
It seems for a moment that Morris will
challenge my words. He glances back and forth between me, Jarod and
Wiseman, who’s expression has turned appealing.
“My apologies, Miss Parker, Jarod. I
was out of line. I’m afraid I got caught up in the excitement of the test
results and was blind to how upset Jarod was.” He pauses, swallowing his pride
with difficulty. “Perhaps we should take a small interval.” He
suggests. I nod, slowly. Mr Wiseman sighs, walking away, and Dr
Morris watches him go.
“Once again, my apologies. I would
not wish to endanger our trade.” He murmurs again before leaving, perhaps to
soothe Wiseman’s pride. Or his own.
I look down at Jarod, who stares vacantly
at the floor. I realise once again I’ve moved on his behalf, to spare his
feelings, to spare him pain. Perhaps I’m getting soft. God knows
this afternoon was an unfailing example. I felt like a Grade A bitch
making that comment when the Doctor and Mr Wiseman walked in. I’m always
trying to protect myself, making people believe I have no feelings.
I don’t understand what made me kiss him
in the first place. One moment we were fighting and I was threatening him,
forcing him into submission with my gun and the handcuffs. And then I was
kissing him. A passionate kiss, truly, but I still can’t understand what
drove me to it. This will only make it all the more harder to leave him
behind. ‘Everybody deserves their freedom’ whispers in my ear.
I kneel down beside Jarod, and he draws
away from me with tearful eyes. He reminds me of a child at times like
these. Gently I peel the electrodes from his face and body, ignoring the
humming machines around us. Jarod sniffs, swiping his hand across his
eyes. I must protect myself once more.
“Get up Jarod, you’re ruining my suit.” I
say, but softly, gently, letting him know that the moment is over. He
smiles a bit and pulls on his shirt, turning his back on me. Embarrassed
most likely. I study the tears in his shirt. Sam was a little rough
on him. These are the same clothes Jarod was captured in, and asides from
the sweats I brought for him to sleep in, he’s been wearing the same clothes for
three days now. Showering and soap can only help so much when there’s
nothing else to wear.
“Come Jarod. We’re going on an
excursion, my treat.”
****
“I like the black.” I state
defiantly. Miss Parker rolls her eyes.
“I like the red. Seems as I’m
paying, you don’t have much choice in the matter.” She replies, flinging a wool
knit sweater, red, over my arm, atop the growing pile of clothes. I jiggle
my hand, causing the chain of the handcuffs to rattle together. A woman
next to us looks up. Parker frowns, but I’m still feeling the warm effects
of the drugs.
To anyone else we look like a normal
couple shopping together. In reality we’re handcuffed together, and we’ve
either been holding hands and standing very close, or I’d tuck both of our
joined hands into the wool lined jacket I borrowed from Michael. Miss
Parker brought me to 39th street, a small boutique called Arkans, to get new
clothes.
“It’s no Gucci but it’ll do.” She’d told
me. I feel like a Ken doll, the way she’s going to be dressing me
up. The handcuffs make trying anything on an impossibility.
“Won’t Dr Morris be upset that we’re out
during his forty-eight hours? I remind her bitterly. Miss Parker pauses
from a cashmere scarf.
“Last I checked he was happy going over
that blood sample he drew this morning. He should be fine until tonight.”
I frown as she adds the scarf to the items balanced over my arm.
“What’s tonight?” I ask. She
sighs. That’s a signal. It means
I-won’t-tell-you-find-out-for-yourself. End of conversation. I
squeeze her hand in the warmth of my jacket. She elbows me in the
ribs. I chuckle.
“This will have to do.” She announces,
leading the way to a service desk. The girl serving smiles winningly at
us, seeing the range of expensive clothing we’re buying. Parker digs in
her purse one-handed, her fingers hovering over a few different credit
cards. I read the name on the American Express she gives the girl.
Miss J Lee. Not bloody likely.
Stepping outside into the cool twilight,
Miss Parker opens a bag. She twirls the grey cashmere scarf around my
neck.
“When we get back you can put on the
hipsters.” I stare at her blankly.
“The pants. They should look good on
you.” I nod dumbly. She thinks about what would look good on me?
“I think its way past time you got over
that black obsession.” I tune out here. Hearing Parker’s opinions on
fashion has never been a great ambition for me. I watch the people around
us instead, clutching Parker’s hand to me. We head for the subway, a few
blocks down.
Snow drifts down in tiny flakes, little
powdery specks landing on the people around me and making them sparkle. I
smile to myself. And then I see it. See him.
Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no! I push Parker into a doorway, using my back to shelter
both her and my face.
“What the hell are you doing!” she hisses,
yanking her cuffed hand out of my pocket.
“Standing on the other side of the street,
coming over. Joe Jawad, I had him put away two years ago. He was
sending hate mail to the police station I had been operating out of for six
months, looking for me. He’s insane, the jury should have put him in an
asylum.” I whisper. I lower my head, nuzzling her neck like a lover so she
can see over my shoulder.
“Dark hair, black eyes in the leather
jacket?” she asks, letting the bags in her hand drop to the ground. She
puts her hand on my shoulder, moving her mouth close to my ear.
“He’s coming over… he’s talking to
somebody, not ten feet away.” She whispers. I place the bags I hold onto
the ground, using my free hand to draw her closer.
“They seem to be arguing.” Miss Parker
informs me. I nod, absent-mindedly drawing circles on her ribs. I
keep my face in her neck, using my extra height and the width of my shoulders to
shield us both from view. The doorway is deep, leaving us mostly in
shadow, the people walking by oblivious to our actions. Two lovers, they
should think.
“He looks very angry.” Comments
Parker. “What did he do, exactly?” she asks.
“Little girls. He ‘did’ little
girls. A lot of evidence was suppressed though, he only got a short
sentence. The DA’s fault.” I mutter, frowning at the
memory. I slide my hand to her hip, then lower, sneaking it
round so my hand rests on her butt. Parker gasps quietly, her fingers
tightening on my shoulder.
“Where was this?” her voice is a little
breathy. It seems I have an effect on her after all. I squeeze.
“Philly. God knows what he is doing
in New York.” Her breathing is a little erratic as I fondle her ass,
giving me courage. I lick her neck. She grunts in surprise, curling
her fingers into the hair at the base of my neck. I hold my breath,
sliding my hand up her back to the waistline of her skirt. She stiffens as
I grip her gun, slowly withdrawing it from its holster.
“You bastard!” she hisses, dropping her
hand from my neck to between us, attempting to struggle away from me. I
bring the gun between our bodies. “You probably don’t even know the man!”
“Don’t be a fool!” I growl. I press
the gun into her hand and she looks up at me in surprise. “If I were to
attempt to get away now, he’d see me with you. I wouldn’t put you in
danger like that…” she stares into my face for a moment or two, a look of utter
shock on her face. She is distracted by something behind me, and tugs me
close suddenly.
“Duck your head! They’ve moved
closer!” she murmurs urgently. I press my face back into her neck, and she
buries her face in my shoulder. She slides the hand with the gun under my
jacket, holding it flat against my lower back. I can actually hear the
muted voices of Joey and his companion behind us. I push us further into
the corner, thrusting my knee between Miss Parker’s legs. I put my hand
back on her ribs, tucking her body into the arch of mine. Our bodies are
fused together intimately, and despite the danger of the situation, I’m becoming
aroused.
As my erection begins to press against
Parker’s belly, I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction. I know she is
just as turned on as I am. The voices behind us grow quieter, signalling
Joey and his pal have moved away. I wait, tense. She surprises me,
pulling me closer as she rests against the wall behind her. Then she
grinds herself against my leg. I release my breath in a ragged sigh,
pressing our bodies even closer. Miss Parker is breathing short, shallow
breaths, rocking her hips, thrusting her pelvis against my thigh. Her
skirt is riding high on her legs, creeping up.
I take another step, cupping her breast in
my hand. I squeeze, perhaps a little too hard, but she seems to like
it. A little cry escapes her parted lips, muffled on my shoulder. I
tug on her nipple with my thumb and finger, then soothe it with my palm.
“Jarod…” she whispers, almost
inaudibly. I squeeze her breast again and she whimpers.
“What?” I whisper back. Her skin is
hot against my face, and I suck gently at her pulse.
“Fuck me…” she begins. I gulp,
shocked.
“Here?” Parker sighs again.
“…With your fingers.” She finishes.
I still for a moment, and she rubs sensuously against my erection. I let
my hand skitter across her breastbone, sliding down her muscled stomach. I
pause with my fingers tucked at the waistline of her skirt.
“The zip, at the side…” Parker
hints. I nod, undoing it halfway. Then I take a deep breath.
Now or never.
She’s wearing some little scrap of silk
for panties, and must be wearing a thigh high stockings. I slide my hand
down further, feeling the wetness there. Parker hums against my shoulder
and shifts against my hand, bringing me into closer contact with her silky
skin. I slide my fingers down, almost quivering with excitement. I
bring my thumb around, finding the hard little nub of her clitoris and rubbing
gently, and Parker mewls against me.
“Don’t stop.” She whispers, and I nod,
biting at the skin on her neck then soothing it with my tongue. I thrust
one finger inside of her and she sighs, tilting her hips for better
access. She’s panting now, her breath hot and heavy. I continue to
stroke with my thumb, adding another finger to the one that thrusts inside of
her.
Parker is close, I know, and I speed up
the rhythmic motions of my hand. Her body rocks in time, helping her to
achieve her own pleasure. She’s wet and warm and tight, and I can feel my
hard on straining against my jeans. Her cuffed hand clutches at my chest
and she suddenly bites down hard on my shoulder, and I can feel little spasms
ripple through her body. She tenses, her body arching and shuddering as
her orgasm rips through her.
I support Parker as she collapses against
me, ignoring the ache in my shoulder where she bit me as I withdraw my
fingers. Fumbling, I do up the zip on her skirt. She peeks up at me
as I carefully lick my fingers clean, savouring the taste of her body. She
chuckles slightly. Flushed, she backs away from me, tucking her gun back
in her holster.
“Joey, is he…?” I begin anxiously.
Parker smiles wryly.
“Left five minutes ago.” She
confesses. I smile a little, and she smiles back. Just like old
times. Except with a bonus.
“We’d better get back.” She mutters, and I
help her straighten her clothes, doing up my borrowed jacket to hide the
evidence of my still burning arousal. Together we walk down the street
towards the subway. To anyone else I look like a normal man with his
girlfriends hand tucked in his jacket pocket and their shopping hanging from his
hand. A normal man who just got his lover off in a dark little doorway in
the middle of Manhattan. I smile again. Parker catches my pleased
smile.
“Who knows Jarod…” she murmurs, staring
off into the distance, “Perhaps,*one* day, *if* you’re lucky, I just *might*
return the favour.”
****
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” I
ask, and I can tell I’m on the money.
“Did what, Mr Wiseman?” the Doc pauses
from his task to ask. He’s doing something with a few laptops, and I can
see more electrodes ready for use.
“You pushed Jarod that far on
purpose. To get to me.” I state. I nod, I’m definitely right.
“Not everything revolves around you Mr
Wiseman.” He says mildly, and returns to tapping at his keyboard. I smile
wryly. Son of a gun.
“But this did. A little lesson to
show me how truly hospitable the great American government has been. You
know, letting me run around like a good little superhero while he suffers.” He’s
smiling, I think.
“Whatever you wish to believe, Mr
Wiseman.” He murmurs. I turn to head back to the gym, to finish my
workout.
“Hey Doc?” I ask, hearing the door
downstairs open. Miss Parker has the code apparently.
“Yes Mr Wiseman?”
“Thanks.” This time I know he’s smiling.
I begin lifting weights, grinning as Miss
Parker and Jarod enter. Jarod has this dark little smile on his face,
almost smug. Miss Parker is also looking very satisfied with
herself. These two have obviously been having fun. They both place
their bags on the ground and Parker fumbles around until she finds the key to
the handcuffs. Jarod seems reluctant to let her go, but rubs his wrists
nonetheless. Slowly he rests two of his fingers on his lips, thinking I’m
not looking, and licks them. Parker flushes a deep shade of crimson and
turns to bury herself in a few of the shopping bags. Jarod watches her ass
with a sleepy sort of appreciation.
“Here. Go change. You’re
starting to smell.” She growls, thrusting some clothes at him. He winks at
her and bounds up to the bathroom to change. His limp from the day before
is gone.
He’s left the bathroom door open, and I
can see him dragging the shirt off his body in the mirror. He drops his
pants and I look away. He’s probably not even aware that I can see
him. He’s very tanned, and muscular too. Broad shoulders. I
look up again and he’s pulled on a pair of pants, his chest still bare. He
looks up into the mirror, catches my eye. And winks at me. I almost
drop the weights. I look away, mortified. He knew I was watching
him!
“He’s a very beautiful specimen, isn’t
he?” Miss Parker whispers into my ear. I jump, not realising she had been
so close. She’s smiles a little predatory smile at me.
“He is, of course, unbiased by
society. He’s sees no difference between loving a woman and loving a
man. Sexually ambiguous, you might say.” She murmurs. I shake my
head, not quite sure what she is suggesting.
“I’m not… I mean, I have a wife and
child…” I begin, and she laughs at this.
“But the body doesn’t always believe what
the mind says. Tell me, Mr Wiseman, when you wake up in the morning, do
you find yourself confronted with a vision of beauty you cannot resist?
This man, although it seems wrong, spellbinds you, causes your heart to race,
your breath to quicken…” I cast a quick look over at the Doc, confused.
She laughs again.
“And this man… does he not wear the same
expression as you? Your reflection, Mr Wiseman. Any other man and
this might seem egotistical, but you are in the unique position of inhabiting a
body that is not your own… you look in the mirror and you find yourself
attracted…to yourself.” I place the weights down, staring at her in
surprise. Was I too obvious in the mirror this morning?
“But you and Jarod…” I offer helplessly,
I’m not quite sure what she’s suggesting. Her smile turns bitter.
“Jarod and I barely have a past together,
let alone a future. We have both learnt to grab life with two hands, Mr
Wiseman. Never let a moment, an opportunity, slip you by. You just
might never see it again.” She walks off, her hips swinging.
I throw another look at the
bathroom. Jarod is leaning in to the mirror, borrowed razor in hand.
For a moment my vision is filled with Lisa, and I am filled with guilt.
But all through the years, Lisa never begrudged me the right to be attracted to
other women… she’d roll her eyes and frown and I’d grin cheekily. I
remember once, in the early years of our marriage, being fascinated by the
enticing curve of some young woman’s neck. Quite unusual, but I was
fascinated nonetheless. And Lisa had caught me staring, poked me gently in
the ribs and said ‘I know you love me’.
But a man? It is hard not to be
attracted to my own gender in these modern times, when fashion makes the men as
pretty as the women. Jarod splashes water on his face, clearing the last
of the shaving cream. He picks up a bottle of my aftershave. A
moment, an opportunity, Miss Parker had said. Grabbing life with two
hands. I risk a glance at Miss Parker, deep in discussion with the
Doc. I’ve never kissed a man before. I creep up to my bedroom,
hesitating outside the bathroom door. Jarod’s enthusiastically slapping
aftershave on his face. His pants are charcoal grey, hanging low on his
hips. A deep blue long sleeved top clings to his muscular arms and chest.
“You’re staring.” I look up at the sound
of his voice. He’s watching me in the mirror.
“So were you.” I respond, taking a wild
guess. He blushes, proving me right.
“I go soon. Back to Centre.
Back to Hell.” He adds, almost as an afterthought. I nod silently, and he
turns to face me, advancing slowly. He’s both nervous and full of intent,
and snaps off the bathroom light. We stand in darkness, the only light
from the nearby window. Jarod reaches out and puts his hand on my
hip. I breathe deeply. I’ve got the rush of a forbidden thrill.
And then we kiss. Jarod initiates
and I follow, leaning into him and pressing our lips together. It’s like
kissing should be, kissing anybody, male or female, new and surprising and
offering thrilling pleasure. Like kissing a woman but harder, firmer,
perhaps more passionate than the kisses I learnt over a lifetime with
Lisa. And then our mouths are opening and tongues touching. Jarod
pulls me closer and our chests bump, he puts his hand on my shoulder and I cling
to his waist. He twines his tongue with mine and thrusts it in my mouth,
imitating something far more erotic.
We part, panting for breath, and I realise
the faint hum of conversation in the background has stopped. Jarod is
staring intensely into my eyes. I am aware, quite suddenly, that we are no
longer alone. I turn my head. There stands Miss Parker, eyes
glittering, quite obviously aroused.
“Nice show. If you two ever decide
to make a movie give me a call.” She mutters snidely. She smiles darkly
and moves off. Jarod lets his hands drop from my body. I take a
little longer to do the same. The window shutters begin to slide shut,
signalling the lights will be cut in another half an hour. Must be later
than I thought.
“Jarod?” I hear the Doc call. Jarod
hesitates, looking down towards the gym then back at me. He leans forward
and presses a quick, hard kiss against my lips, then smiles.
“Thankyou Michael.” He whispers, the
dashes off. I watch silently as Miss Parker, miraculously changed into
pyjamas, handcuffs herself to Jarod again. I hear him ask about getting
changed and she rolls her eyes. You just got changed, she tells him.
He shrugs, and strips of his shoes and pants to stand in boxer shorts and
sweater. He grins, then climbs into bed with her, and the Doc begins
placing electrodes across his forehead, to monitor his sleep patterns.
“Goodnight Mr Wiseman.” The Doc calls as
he leaves. I change, and the lights flick out.
When I climb out of bed after spending too
many hours pretending to sleep, I see both Miss Parker and Jarod are out
cold. Miss Parker is curled into Jarod’s side, and one of his hands rests
comfortably on her stomach. The lights from the laptop, little flashes of
information about Jarod’s brain I don’t understand, reflect eerie patterns on
their skin. I smile sadly.
Hello darkness, my old friend.
****
Something is going on. Other than
the usual. Jarod and Miss Parker have been sending each other somewhat
intense looks all day, and when Jarod thinks nobody is watching he’ll lick or
suck on two of his fingers. This I understand, after what I witnessed in
the gym yesterday. Although the finger thing is puzzling, the imagination
doesn’t have to stretch very far. What I don’t understand are the intense,
slightly confused looks Jarod and Mr Wiseman are sharing. Occasional
little secret, tender smiles, too.
Right now Jarod watches the passing
streets, his ankles shackled on his hands cuffed. The later afternoon
sunshine reflects off passing buildings. My tests are almost
complete. As per our agreement, I am taking Jarod for his implant before I
have done everything I wish to. Security, the Centre had said. A
little tracking device, so Miss Parker will always know where he is. I
smile grimly, thinking of what Miss Parker and I discussed last night. A
nice idea, this little implant theory. If we ever get it into his head in
the first place. Miss Parker meets my eyes. Time to begin.
I lean forward, very carefully placing a
small piece of thin metal on Jarod’s leg, close to his hands. A paper
clip, twisted out of shape. Mr Wiseman’s eyes widen, and Miss Parker
stares straight ahead. Jarod looks extremely confused, staring back and
forth between Miss Parker and myself. Parker’s expression remains calm and
serene. Jarod picks up the piece of metal. Miss Parker takes out her
gun, and Jarod freezes.
“Don’t try to get out of those shackles
Jarod, or I’ll have to shoot you.” She’s says quietly, then removes the
clip. She places it on the seat between her and Jarod. He stares at
it suspiciously.
She lays the gun flat on her leg, fingers
lightly resting on the butt. Wiseman smiles, brilliantly. Jarod
twists the metal slowly, angling it into the lock on his handcuffs. Miss
Parker continues to stare straight ahead. The lock gives with a soft
click. He removes the other bracelet with the same efficiency. He
casts another wary glance at Miss Parker, then me. I smile. He
smiles back, and leans forward to undo the ankle shackles. When these are
gone I tap on the dividing window in the limo. Right on cue the driver
runs up the end of another car. A distraction. Mr Wiseman smiles
again.
“I’ll go see what that was, will I?” he
says quietly, and steps out of the car. He leaves the door open, the one
closest to Jarod. I hear the driver also get out. Jarod looks at the
open door, then back at Miss Parker and myself.
“Why?” he whispers urgently. Miss
Parker smiles gently.
“Everybody deserves their freedom Jarod,
even you.” She says quietly. She thinks for a moment. “And how will
I ever return the favour on the inside, with all those damn cameras?” she
adds. Jarod chuckles a little. I don’t want to think on that one too
long. He leans over and kisses her on the cheek, and whispers in her
ear. She grins, and passes him a duffel bag full of the clothes she bought
for him. He sits back, then shrugs a bit and leans over to kiss me on the
cheek as well. Then he gets out of the car.
Miss Parker follows him, sliding the clip
back into her gun. I step out of the car as Mr Wiseman and Jarod gaze at
each other for a moment. There is definitely something going on
here. The driver is exchanging details with a cabbie. Jarod looks at
me.
“What about your tests?” he asks.
“I have enough information to last
months. Good luck Jarod.” I say. Miss Parker clicks the safety off
on her gun. Jarod nods, and turns around, facing an alleyway.
“Goodbye.” She whispers, and raises her
gun. Jarod begins to run.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Miss Parker
calls. She counts to three under her breath, then shoots a dumpster a few
times. She turns to Mr Wiseman.
“You shouldn’t have knocked me. I
might have got him.” She says calmly. Jarod disappears from sight around
the corner. Mr Wiseman looks confused.
“What was that little display about?” he
asks. Miss Parker puts away her gun.
“Sweeper’s. They’ll be here later to
check out my story. I need for them to find bullets somewhere.” She
explains carelessly. She climbs back in the car and we all follow.
“You can drop me off at the Hilton.” She
murmurs, gathering her bags and Jarod’s restraints. I nod slowly.
“Miss Parker?” Mr Wiseman says
suddenly. She looks up.
“Yes?” he smiles.
“It was a pleasure to meet you.”
When she is gone, I smile with
satisfaction. Mr Wiseman looks at me questioningly. I sigh deeply.
“You know that balance of power I was
talking about yesterday?” I ask. He nods.
“The scales just tipped a little more in
our direction. I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of those two.” I
say. Mr Wiseman grins, and opens his mouth. I wait for something
witty and intelligent that will sum up the whole situation.
“Can we stop for hotdogs?”
I should have known better.
I see a red door and I want it painted
black
No colours any more I want them to turn
black
I see the girls walk by in their summer
clothes
I have to turn my head until the darkness
goes…
Fini.
Feedback is an author’s best
friend.
Mandy.
