Disclaimer: The characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots etc. and the fictional Centre, are all property of MTM and NBC Productions and used without permission. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.

Atonement

by Mandy

She was acutely aware of the looks she was receiving. Sneaking eyes caressing her body, pausing on her breasts and lingering on her legs. She didn't return the stares.

In the smoky club a comedian stood onstage, desperately trying to attract the attention of the patrons with failing jokes, jokes he was the only one laughing at. Miss Parker ignored him, accepting the drink a waitress offered. From the gentleman across the room, she explained. Parker didn't look, simply drained the glass in one gulp and passed it back. The waitress left and Miss Parker kept smoking. Such a bad habit, she knew, yet this morning she'd taken it up again.

The comedian left the stage and a band replaced him, and they proved to be much more popular with the audience, some couples danced. A few men approached, yet veered away again at her expression. Another drink from the man across the room, this one she nursed, still not looking. She wasn't in the mood for the whole flirt and seduce thing, if she did take anyone home with her tonight it would be because she had grabbed him on her way out the door. Maybe she'd just flash her panties and see who followed.

"You know, it's very hard to try and pick you up when you won't even look at me." An accented voice said, male and amused. Parker looked up slowly, running her eyes over the man who towered above her. Tall, dark and handsome was an apt description, his skin golden and his hair soft, black and slightly curled. The accent was Italian, matching the looks.

"Fuck off." Parker replied simply, and lowered her head to stare back into her drink. The man sat in the chair opposite, and Miss Parker felt the first stirring of annoyance.

"No… I don't believe I will." He told her, causing Parker to glance up at him sharply. Another shadow fell across the table, and Miss Parker began to shake inside. Not now, please, not now, she couldn't bear it.

"The lady told you to leave." Jarod stated, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. The man sneered, twisting his handsome face into something cruel. "I don't think that's any of your business!" he hissed. Then to Parker's amazement, Jarod pushed aside his jacket, revealing the butt of a gun poking out of a holster. The man left quickly, while Miss Parker's head swam. Since when did Jarod carry a gun?

They sat opposite each other in silence, each wary of the other's intentions. Parker felt bereft, suppressing the urge to touch where her own gun should have been. Jarod watched her, his face closed to her like never before. It was like he wore a mask, his face so blank and cold.

"Come." He said suddenly, standing and holding a hand out to her. They left without paying the bill, Miss Parker feeling dizzy and confused as he led her to a car, not hers. He pressed her against it, impersonally running his hands across her, searching for a weapon. She gasped in protest when his hands slid under her shirt, but he ignored it, running his hands under her bra and across her breasts. Miss Parker felt a cold, clammy sort of arousal grow inside her, heightened when he roughly pushed up her skirt. She moaned when his hand slid inside her panties, knowing he must feel the dampness there, yet he said nothing. Like it had been all their lives, nothing said.

He turned her around, searching her back and butt and legs and boots. Nothing, and she didn't know weather to be glad or disappointed she wasn't wearing the flick blade she sometimes kept in her bra. Only then did Jarod step back, opening the passenger door of the car and pushing her inside. Parker shivered, wondering why she wasn't asking questions, wasn't thrusting him away from her… wasn't attempting to imprison him.

"You're cold." Jarod said, noticing her shiver as he slid into the car, wrapping his jacket around her and turning on the heater. Parker inhaled deeply, smelling his scent on her skin, rain and musk. She felt oddly comforted, pulling the jacket tighter around herself as Jarod began to drive.

She didn't know how he had found her, alone in Boston, despairing over the death of an old friend. It was silly to have gone to the funeral, it would just heighten the suspicion of betrayal the Centre had been feeling lately. Not telling anyone where she was going, sneaking out in the night like that, not even talking to Sydney or Broots about it. But concern and tears had taken over, tears over the loss and concern over… well, the death had not been of natural causes to say the least.

Darkness crept into the interior of the car, city lights fading away as Jarod drove and drove. Miss Parker was aching with a guilty kind of hunger, trying not to think about Jarod's thoughtless hands on her body, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She thought about turning the radio on, but decided she liked the silence too much. Just her and Jarod, not talking, not teasing, not fighting. It felt strange, but good, like a long lost friend and warm hugs. She smelled the jacket again, and tried not to smile. She knew he liked rain, and not because he told her. She knew because she did too, raindrops on the face meant you were still alive and free.

Snow began to fall, and Miss Parker lit a cigarette, opening the window a crack and watching a snowflake drift down to her leg. To her surprise Jarod lit a cigarette of his own, dragging back like he'd been a smoker all his life. She stared, but didn't say anything. It was probably something to do with the way he was behaving now, probably a Pretend he couldn't quite shake off.

He took her to a cabin, resting high in some hills. Trees tried to claw at her as they walked inside, Jarod didn't seem to notice, his long stride leaving her hurrying to catch up. Inside smelled smoky, a fire burning low in the hearth and a lamp flickering on the pine table. Jarod threw wood on the fire, a great kettle hung over it. Parker wrinkled her nose in distaste, but didn't say anything.

Jarod took her hand, leading her up a short hall to a modern bathroom, a shower looming invitingly. He turned on the water, adjusting its heat for several moments, before turning back to Miss Parker. The coldness in his eyes excited her, making her tremble as he undid her shirt, carelessly tossing it aside. She tried not to blush as he removed the rest of her clothes, watching his large hands dealing with tiny buttons or delicate lace.

When she stood naked before him he examined her, turning her this way and that under his scrutinising gaze. Jarod said nothing, no flash of approval or desire showing in his eyes, but the bulge in his pants spoke for him. At last it seemed he had looked his fill, and he set about removing his own clothes. She examined his body as he had her own, feeling her guilty excitement clamour for attention, her body flushing with arousal. She had not seen or heard from him in two months, but she knew, tonight they would make love. No, not make love, a voice in her head whispered, tonight we'll fuck.

Jarod pushed Parker under the warm water and put his hands on her in a way designed to arouse. With clinical detachment he excited her to fever pitch, while all the time she wondered about his coldness, gasping his name as he pleasured her. And when she thought she would break he pushed her legs apart and surged into her, lifting her against the wall with her legs around his waist as she cried out again and again. And when his own release came, it was a muffled gasp against her neck, the slackening of his body as he eased her feet to the ground that told her.

She held him tightly against her, stroking his hair with one hand and his shuddering back with the other. Jarod's composure returned slowly, and he raised his head just as the mask closed over again, giving her a fleeting glimpse into the agony underneath. She puzzled over it as they towelled each other dry and walked next door to the bedroom, before Jarod laid her on the bed next to him and she forgot everything.

She awoke slowly, noticing he had tied up her wrists with soft muslin sometime during the night. She found that by concentrating and being careful, she could work one hand free, but hesitated over removing the other binding. He had liked her vulnerable, his pleasure over it had broke through his mask of coldness. He had kneeled above her and watched her test the bonds, his eyes glowing in the moonlight, possessiveness stamped on his face. He had liked her vulnerable to him like that.

Now he slept beside her, his face gentle in sleep. She took a moment to study him, startled slightly when his dark golden eyes opened. His gaze drifted over her, excitement flaring in his eyes as he saw the remaining ties on one hand. With infinite delicacy he sat up and retied the other hand, a slightly accusing expression drifting over him before he turned watchful once more. He pushed away the sheet from where it rested on her hips, studying her nakedness. He liked her vulnerable.

The binds were tighter this time, and as he walked away she knew it would be much harder to free herself. Not that she wanted to. Instead she waited, hearing him move around the cabin, imagining him naked and uncaring.

After an hour he came back, standing at the foot of the bed and staring. He was obviously aroused, his body flushed and hard, but he made no move towards her. Parker broke out in a cold sweat, shifting uncomfortably, drawing up her legs, a feeble attempt to hide her nakedness. She wasn't surprised when he grasped her ankle, pulling it down to the end of the bed, where more muslin ties waited.

When she was completely helpless he sat down, trailing one finger down her breast, her stomach, between her legs. She moaned and arched up, pain shooting along her nerves as she yanked on her bindings. She grew annoyed, his teasing of her body grated on her nerves, his obsession with her vulnerability sending cobwebs of fear and doubt into her mind. And still, that cold, clammy, guilty arousal, tinged with a sense of dirtiness. She ached. It was the most erotic thing she had ever known.

And suddenly he was on top of her, pushing inside of her, so a sharp edge of pain heightened pleasure. He was hurting her and she liked it. She liked it and she wanted more. She wanted more and he provided. He hurt her, over the next hour, ranging from pleasure so painful she cried out, to agony as his body assaulted hers. And she wanted it.

And when he had finished, leaving her breathless and dizzy and surprised, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck. She felt his body shake, felt his tears staining patterns of remorse on her skin.

"I'm sorry god I'm sorry…" Jarod whispered, his hand fumbling to untie hers. When they were free she held him close, preventing him from moving away when he tried.

"I hurt you. I hoped never to hurt you, I always promised myself I wouldn't but, god, I always wanted to. I always…always…" he trailed off, and Miss Parker held him and stroked his back as he sobbed against her, holding onto her like a lifeline.

They made love, fumbled kisses and sweaty bodies pressing together hungrily. Jarod switched off the lights and drew the curtains.

"I don't want you to look at me." He whispered, pulling her to him again and groaning. All coldness was gone now, leaving only a violent need disguised in tender touches, and Miss Parker murmured muffled forgiveness against Jarod's salty skin.

When she awoke again it was almost dark, the bed empty.  Parker rose, drawing the blanket around her, smelling sex and sweat on it and her.  She found Jarod in front of the dying fire, staring at it blankly.  In his hands he held a red notebook, open.  When she saw the contents, she gasped.

"I killed her, you know." Jarod's broken voice shattered the silence.  "I did not pull the trigger, but I may as well have."

Parker kneeled beside him, taking the book from his hands, turning the pages.  Newspaper articles flashed before her eyes, bold headlines.  And instantly she understood.  Staring at the face of her dead childhood friend in a clipping, she understood.

"You used her as bait.  You used her as bait to catch a goddamn rapist!" Parker hissed, feeling a violent rage build inside her.  She didn't see the tears on his cheeks.

"I didn't know!  I thought I had every variable provided for!" Jarod sobbed, but Parker didn't hear, flicking through page after page of damning evidence.

"What did you do?  Did you fuck her, Jarod, to get her to help you?  Did you tie her up like you did me?  Make her cum until she couldn't say no to anything? Or did you confide, Jarod, spill all your dirty little secrets and use your avenging angel act to guilt trip her into playing your filthy game?" silence, dark and brooding, fell between them, as Parker waited for his answer.

"I… I told her I was an old friend of yours… and that you had always talked of her as… as such a wonderful person, I knew I could turn to her for help…"

"And then?" she could see it in his eyes, there was something more.

"And then I screwed her fucking brains out!!!" Jarod yelled, his tears falling faster, leaving stains of agony on his bare chest.  "I fucked her and called your name when I came, but she didn't notice!  I had her wanting me so bad she would have done anything for me!"

"Even die for you?" came Parker's chilling response, and Jarod began to cry, great heaving sobs that shook his whole body.  Miss Parker left him there, returning a short time later, wearing her clothes, holding car keys, his car keys.  She stared down at him with pity and scorn as he shed a flood of tears, feeling a slight tickle of remorse, which she subdued instantly.

"You are no longer a part of my life Jarod.  Every package you send me will be thrown out unopened, every phone call unanswered.  From this day on, Jarod, you and I never knew each other as children, were never friends.  I am only the person who hunts you.  I will give you a day, and then you had better be gone, Jarod, for mark my words, I will destroy you.  You've played with my life long enough, this time you went too far.  Our bizarre relationship is over… and so are you."

For hours Jarod sat alone, breathing in the deep sense of finality Miss Parker had left behind. Finally, heeding her comments, he dressed, preparing to hike to the nearest farm to try and find a lift. He lit a cigarette, a nasty habit he had picked up from his Pretend, his temporary partner in the force. He had idolised that man, even simmed being him, which of course led to his current nicotine addiction.  And his fetish for tying women down.

Before he left, Jarod picked up the red notebook discarded earlier, turning to the last page.  It had a clipping from a national newspaper, showing a photograph of a handsome man in uniform, his partner. The headline read 'BOSTON COP CHARGED WITH RAPE AND MURDER.'  A man he had idolised.  A man he had simmed being.  A man who's presence he hadn't quite been able to shake off.

Jarod left, leaving the fire hot with new life, feeding hungrily on the red notebook he wanted to forget ever existed.

The End.

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Sequel or no? but only after everything else is done...:)

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