don't write fan fiction, REALLY I don't, I just
like
to read it. However, I was restless and bored at work
today and for some reason I couldn't get this
challenge out of my head. So this fiction kind of
wrote itself on the back of the accounts payable
printout I was supposed to be working on :) So I
thought I would throw it out here for your perusal.
It may suck, and for that I apologize in advance. I
only hope not to waste your time as you read it. So
here goes nothing. . .
Disclaimer: I do not own The Pretender nor any of the
characters contained therein. I suppose Steve and
Craig still do, and TNT seems to have it locked up
tight. Although, possession is 9/10ths of the law and
I am using them right now and THEY are NOT.
hhhmmmmmm. Anyway, no infringement intended - no
profit gained.
IF YOU
LOVE ME
by
Kristal
Sloce
Jarod turned his cell phone over and over in his palm.
It was late, VERY late, and he was still awake. It
was just about the time of night that he would call
Parker, but he wasn't calling her tonight or any other
night for that matter. He hadn't spoken to her since
their "You run, I chase" conversation after the
island. Nor had he called Sydney. Nor had he left
any clues, presents, or surprises at any of his
subsequent pretends afterwards. He knew that Parker
was alright for the most part. He knew she drank more
and slept less. He knew that Raines and the
Triumvirate were putting her under more pressure than
ever, and that Lyle sabotaged her efforts every chance
he could. But, she had a choice, and that was the
life she chose. He concentrated his efforts on
finding his Mother rather than chasing Centre secrets
after that. He had been closer than ever to finding
her on the island and returned there to pick up her
trail. He found out where the evacuation boat had
been taken and went from there. Many twists and turns
and near death experiences later his efforts were
rewarded. He finally came face to face with the
Mother he had lost so many years ago. Now his family
was reunited, he had all the answers he was searching
for, he had everything he every wanted. So he should
be happy, right? But he wasn't. He didn't have
everything he ever wanted. He didn't have her.
This nagging want never left him. It ruined his
appetite and ruined his sleep. It shortened his
temper and darkened his mood. It was beginning to
threaten the long sought after "happiness" he so
wanted to enjoy. That is why he finally reached for
the pen and pad on this night, putting into words the
thoughts that haunted him day and night. He would
give it one more try. If she rejected him again he
would know that it was well and truly over, and he
would let her go.
--------------------------------------------
Parker stared at the letter till her eyes blurred. No
word from Jarod whatsoever in months and now this?!!
She was relieved to finally hear from him and at the
same time furious at him for putting this on her now.
She was hoping that with their last conversation he
had put any thoughts of a relationship beyond "You
run, I chase" behind him. In fact, she was sure of it
when he didn't speak to her again. But when he didn't
speak to Sydney either she began to fear that
something had happened to him. Apparently, something
did. He finally found his Mother, surely found the
answers he was looking for (and probably some that she
was too), he had everything he ever wanted.
Everything but her.
"Oh Jarod", she said with a heavy sigh as she sat on
her couch, Scotch in hand, to read his letter once
again.
Dear Mirandia,
I know I'm probably violating several rules of
the whole "You run, I chase" game by telling you what
I'm about to tell you, but then again I have never
been fond of the game anyway. The first thing I
wanted to tell you is that I found my Mom. I, of
course, can't tell you anymore than that right now.
Maybe sometime in the future.
The second thing I wanted to tell you is that I
have feelings, very strong feelings for you. I want
to be with you. I want to wipe away your tears, and
help rid you of the pain you have long suffered. I
need to know if you feel the same way, and if I have
any chance of any kind at all with you. If you love
me, meet me at Remo's on Front Street West in New York
as soon as you get this. If you're not there by seven
Wednesday evening I'll know your answer is no.
Love Always,
Jarod
Wednesday. . . that was tomorrow. He certainly wasn't
giving her much time to think, and she needed time to
think about this. She needed an eternity to think
about this.
How did she really feel about Jarod? Their
relationship has never been an easy one. As children
they were friends, but as adults they were sworn
enemies. He was her ticket to freedom from the
Centre. He was her only hope for answers about her
past. But did she love him? She knew if she rejected
him this time she would never see nor hear from him
again. These last few months with no word had been an
agony she didn't want to repeat. But did she love
him? She had been the instigation for the worst times
in his life, and he had been a comfort during hers.
He managed to love her anyway. But did she love him?
What kind of life could they have together? As long
as the Centre existed they would have to constantly
run and hide. Hardly leaves time for 2.5 kids, picket
fence and an SUV, the "You run, I chase" game being
relegated to something they did in the bedroom for
fun. She couldn't even imagine herself in that life.
She pushed away thoughts of precocious toddlers with
his eyes and her Mother's smile, the one she herself
would have had in a different life. And what about
his family? Could they accept her as one of their own
after all she had done? Would they always be watching
and waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting
sweepers to burst in at any moment and tear their
family apart again? What if her mere presence came
between Jarod and his family? What
then?
What about her. Was there life after Jarod? Could
she live without him in her life? Can you miss a love
you've never really had? Did she love him? Did she
really love him?
She sat in silence for what seemed like hours, the
thoughts filling up her mind finally quieting down.
Then all at once she had her answer.
She finally knew.
She did love him.
She knew what she had to do.
---------------------------------------------------
Jarod sat at a table with a clear view of the door at
Remo's. He had arrived hours earlier restless, jumpy.
Today would either be an ending or a beginning for
him, which one he didn't know. He hated the wait, the
hours stretching out before him, mocking him every
time he looked at his watch. Please Parker, please.
He checked his watch for the millionth time. It was
almost seven. She still had time to make it. Another
glance at the watch read 7:05. Maybe she is running
late. Another glance, 7:35. She's not coming.
She's really not coming.
Anguish tore through Jarod like a knife, catching in
his throat, choking off his air. He suddenly felt
like he had to get out or he would die. He bolted
from his chair and ran out into the street, gasping
for air and choking on sobs so hard they wouldn't
come. She didn't love him. It was really over.
Suddenly his waiter burst out the door.
"Jarod! Jarod! Oh, there you are Jarod! Are you OK?
You don't look so good, eh? This just came for you by
courier. He said it was very important. Come back
inside and sit, OK?"
Jarod let the man lead him back inside and he sat back
down with a heavy thump. Staring dumbly at the
envelope, he knew who it was from. He also knew that
any excuse it might contain would never be good enough
for him. His numb fingers tore open the envelope, and
this is what he read:
Go, Jarod.
Go, and never look back, but know this much is true.
You are always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure,
any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as
my own being. You are more myself than I am, and our
separation will never truly be possible.
Yours,
Mirandia
Jarod folded the letter and placed it in his breast
pocket, against his beating heart. Then he turned to
Go.
End.
---------------------------------------------------
Author's note: That last bit was sort of borrowed
from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights". I just want
to give credit where credit is due.
---------------------------------------------------
By the way, any questions, comments, or complaints you
may have about above story are welcome - encouraged
even.
*****