The clock said 11:48 p.m. A digital clock, its bright red numbers mocking her in the darkness. Something was always mocking her. Her family. Her bitch of a stepmother. Her asshole of a brother. And her Daddy. Daddy who never cared. And if he did care, it was never enough to an insecure child. An insecure adult.

The clock said 11:50 p.m. She lay on her side, curled into a ball, watching the clock through tear-blurred eyes. Tears for what she had lost. Everything. Tears for what she had gained. Everything. Jarod. Everything.

The clock said 11:53 p.m. But he had left. He was gone. Just like everything she loved, he was gone. She loved him, still did. But no contact, no little gifts, no phone calls, no sightings, no leads, no clues, no ridiculous chase scenes where he managed to get away. Nothing.

The clock said 11:57 p.m. She missed him. She pulled the top she was wearing as a nightshirt up against her face. He had left it behind. One of his stupid flannel shirts, behind the door in the bathroom. She inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of him, faint but lingering, a scent unique to him, not having come out of a bottle.

The clock said 11:59 p.m. She recalled the feel of his hands on her body, the way he had whispered hot words into her ear, desire for her burning brightly in his eyes, love showing in his face. Had he really loved her? How would he know what love was? Perhaps it had just been lust on his behalf.

The clock said 12:00 a.m. Exactly two months since he had left her, and she had run out of tears. Two months, and life was dull without him, flat, two dimensional. Two months, and nothing. Two months of loving someone who wasn’t there. Two months. Exactly two months pregnant with his child.

Miss Parker walked into Sydney’s office, scowling. He was leaning back in his chair, reading some papers, and glanced up as she entered.

"Anything from Jarod?" she asked. Sydney frowned, her search for him since he had kidnapped her had turned even more urgent, if that was possible. He stood, and retrieved an unopened package from his desk draw, handing it to her without a word. It was addressed to her, in Jarod’s handwriting.

"It came this morning. We thought you would like to open it." He murmured, watching her expression as it transformed from her normal cool veneer to eagerness. She tore open the package, lifting the top off the box inside. Gently parting layers of tissue paper, Miss Parker searched for what was hidden inside. When she found it, she gasped. A delicately carved figurine of a ballerina lay inside, the wood painted in translucent shimmering colours. Parker remembered once, when she was a child, telling Jarod that she wanted to be a ballerina. At the time it had only been a whim, something to fill her head with dreams, and she was touched by the gift. Next to it lay a note, which read:

Miss Parker felt her eyes misting with tears, but brushed it off with the thought that she had been too emotional because of the pregnancy.

"What does it mean Miss Parker?" Sydney’s voice broke her out of her trance-like state, and she shook it off angrily. She couldn’t forget that Jarod had deserted her.

"Who knows? Jarod’s mind always was a bit twisted!" she retorted angrily, slamming the lid back on the box and storming off to her office, box in hand, leaving Sydney staring after her in surprise.

Miss Parker sat in her office, staring into space. She was thinking about the child she now carried. Her child. Their child. She wondered weather she could tell Sydney, wondered what his reaction would be. The possibility of telling her father was out, the child of a Pretender would immediately be commandeered for the Centre’s uses. She wondered if she would have the nerve to tell Jarod, she wasn’t sure if she could stand another rejection from him, and her mind shied away from the possibility of having the pregnancy terminated.

Tell Sydney. It was a possibility. He could help her, help her to escape the Centre, to raise the child somewhere far away. She had always loved Paris, she could go there. Give the child a good life, not like hers, give it all the love and support her mother had given her before she died. But instinctively she felt that to give the child the life she had longed for, it would need what she had always felt she had never had. The love of it’s father. Jarod’s love.

Miss Parker’s thoughts were interrupted by the hesitant entry of Sydney. He stood in the doorway of her office, before walking forward to stand in front of her desk.

"Miss Parker, is there something you would like to talk about? You know I’m here for you if there is." Miss Parker thought for a moment, considering her limited options, then came to a decision and took a deep breath.

"I’m pregnant Sydney!" she whispered, and could not help the tears that rolled down her face. Sydney’s face registered shock, then understanding about her recent behaviour.

"It’s Jarod’s, isn’t it?" he asked gently, and she nodded miserably.

"What are you going to do?" he questioned, still processing the information he had been given. Miss Parker and Jarod…it was almost too far-fetched to believe.

"I don’t know Sydney, I don’t know…" she murmured, before Sydney walked around the desk and took her into his arms, giving comfort in his presence, as she hugged him tightly back.

Miss Parker sat on her sofa, a cup of coco in her hands, longing for a cigarette, or a stronger drink, but not wanting to hurt the baby. Sydney, after she had told him, had redoubled their efforts to find Jarod. He had said that there was one way he could contact Jarod, through e-mail, using a special code they had use when he was a child.

Parker lifted the gun that was in her lap, her gun, and flicked off the safety. It could all end right here, the pain, the sadness, the fear, all she had to do was pull the trigger. Slowly she raised the gun, placing it against her temple, taking deep breaths. All she had to do was pull the trigger, and the sweet temptation of emptiness would be hers. Yes, end it, whispered a small voice in her head. Miss Parker smiled, memories of Jarod laughing and smiling flitted through her head, and squeezed the trigger.

"You know Miss Parker, I removed the bullets earlier so you wouldn’t kill me, not yourself." Came Jarod’s soft voice. For a moment Miss Parker thought it was just another voice in her head, recreating Jarod for her heart, but then she opened her eyes.

"Jarod.." she whispered, taking in every detail of his appearance. He looked thinner, messier, more tired than the last time she had seen him. He stared at her, pain and confusion on his face.

"That is something that I never want to see again in my life! To walk in and see you…you trying to do that!" he growled, anger written all over his face.

"And would you really care Jarod? Or would it be one less Centre operative to deal with?" she hissed, getting angry in her own right now. How dared he just waltz on in after two months?!

"What the hell are you talking about Parker? Of course I care!"

"Yeah, you care so much that you left me! You care for me so much that this is the first time in two months that I’ve seen you! Nothing Jarod! No phone calls! Just that stupid reminder of when we were children, and this is what I think of that!" she yelled, and picking up the box, ripped out the graceful little ballerina inside and hurled it at the wall, watching as it splintered into pieces. Jarod’s face contorted with fury, and Parker watched triumphantly as he tried to control it. Her triumph faded to fear quickly though, as Jarod slowly advanced on her, a menacing gleam in his eyes, eyes that looked inhuman with the rage that blinded them.

Pushing her back down onto the sofa, Jarod grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look up at him, but Miss Parker couldn’t concentrate on the words being hurled at her because of the sudden shooting pain in her abdomen.

"You selfish bitch! All you ever think about is yourself! If I had of stayed you would have taken me in and you know it!" Now Jarod grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her in his anger, not noticing her paleness, or the way she clutched at her stomach as the pain increased.

"And to think I ever loved you! And believed that you loved me back! You probably only said it to get me to stay a bit longer, so you could call up your precious daddy and have some of your goons bring me in!"

Parker watched Jarod as he let her go and stalked to the window through pain clouded eyes, but didn’t hear what he was saying, as all that was going through her mind was fear for the life of her child. Finally Jarod, after calming himself a bit, turned, and felt a sudden terror as he saw Parker’s whiteness, the sheen of sweat that coated her skin, and the pained expression on her face as she sat there, shaking.

"Parker? Parker!" said Jarod, hurrying over to her, all anger forgotten.

"Parker what’s wrong?" he asked urgently, but Miss Parker didn’t hear him, she was too consumed by fear and pain, and as her world faded into darkness, her final thought was that now Jarod would know.

Jarod sat in the waiting room of the emergency room, his mind running through all the things that could be going on. He had explained to the nurses about Miss Parker’s ulcer as they had raced her away from him, and his last glimpse of her had been her pale tear streaked face as she was being wheeled away, and Jarod knew that that face would be forever etched in his memory.

Now Jarod saw a doctor walk into the waiting room, looking around, then spotting him, hurrying over and fidgeting nervously as Jarod fired questions at him about Parker’s condition.

"She said not to say anything, just to go in and see her." Mumbled the small, bald man, and Jarod was reminded of Broots, and understood that Miss Parker had given him her famous icy attitude to bend him to her will. Following the doctors directions, Jarod hurried down the corridor, then slowed as he approached her room. Upon entering he saw her, lying on her side with her back to him.

"Parker?" he asked, looking for a chart, then saw the corner of it poking out from where she clutched to her chest, and decided not to ask for it.

"Parker what happened?" he murmured, coming close enough to stroke her hair, "was it the ulcer?"

"No Jarod it was not the ulcer." She intoned flatly, voice and face devoid of expression.

"What then?"

"I was pregnant Jarod." She said quietly, still refusing to look at him.

"Your pregnant? Parker that’s wonderful!" he replied delightedly.

"No Jarod. I was pregnant." She said, emphasising the word was so he would understand. For a moment he was quiet, as he realised what she was saying.

"Parker… I’m so sorry." He whispered as a great pain ran through him. Their child. He had caused the death of their child.

"Don’t be sorry Jarod, it wasn’t even yours. I was three months pregnant, get it? I was already pregnant when we were together! So don’t be sorry Jarod, just go. Go and leave me in peace." She whispered the words harshly, and as she heard his footsteps move away and the slam of the door, she wept. She lay on her back, clutching her abdomen that still contained the child that she had told Jarod she had lost, the child that she had told Jarod wasn’t his, although it was. The child that she would raise on her own, far away, so that Jarod could never harm her or the life she carried.

Miss Parker settled down for the night in bed, in her new home in Paris, which Sydney had arranged for her. She had a new life, a new name, a new start. Away from Jarod, away from the Centre, away from her father.

"I will love you, my sweet, and you’ll never be alone so long as you’re with me, because I love you no matter what." She whispered, smiling as she stroked the bulge of her tummy, which she now knew were twins, the children of the shadows she and Jarod had been.

The End.

Mandy.

Jarods_gurl@yahoo.com.

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