Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Blue Cove, Delaware, in a world very different from the one we know:

The first requirement was death, her mother told her.

They knew this because it had happened once before, the other way around. Allegedly. Their evidence for this was that it happened to him, Jarod, the greatest liar in the world. Parker could be forgiven for having doubts. Nobody was asking her opinion, though. They were too busy strapping her aching carcas to the gurney.

It hadn’t even been one full week back in this concrete hell hole and they were already rewriting her worst fears.

The thing she really couldn’t understand was why. What did they get out of this? They would put her under (down, like a dog) and then revive her so she could tell them about some swell dream she had?

It was weird, even for the Centre. Had they run out of all the other horrible experiments already? Were they scraping the bottom of the barrel? She thought they wanted her alive. It had been her only comfort when they’d cornered her in Florida; that at least they’d keep her alive.

“Sydney,” Parker whimpered. 

A dry warm hand clasped her own. She tried to see him from the corner of her eye, but tears blurred her vision. She imagined she could see his calm mask of a face tilting towards sympathy. “I’m here, Parker.” 

“Don’t let them do this,” she begged. 

Sydney said nothing, but squeezed her hand gently. 

“I don’t want to die, Sydney,” she said.

“It won’t be permanent,” Sydney said. “You’ll be okay.” 

It won’t be permanent? Parker almost laughed. It would have been more reassuring if this wasn’t the man that had taught her to lie in the first place. 

She closed her eyes, and her tears slid down her temples and tickled her ears. It was just one more irritation, one more straw on her broken back, and it sent a tremor of rage through her.

She should have fought harder. She should have pulled out all the stops, run like her life depended on it, because it turned out, in fact, it fucking did! She should have used deadly force before allowing them to bring her back here. 

But she had thought her mother, at least, would-

“That’s enough.” 

Speak of the devil. 

Sydney gave her trembling hand one more squeeze and drifted away. Heels clacked against the floor, announcing her mother’s arrival. 

The instinct to open her eyes was excruciating, but she couldn’t face this.

Please, no. 

She wasn’t sure if she said it aloud or not. 

A hand traced her cheek, wiping away the cold remains of the tear. The familiar perfume almost had Parker disassociating, torn between love and a sorrow so deep it might as well be coded in her dna. 

“You’ll be fine,” her mother said, her voice no different than what she once used for a bedtime story. 

“Mother,” Parker said. She couldn’t turn her head into the hand or away from it. She didn’t know which one she’d choose if she could. “Mommy,” she said, her voice modulating to that of a ten year old.

“None of that,” her mother said, patting her cheek. The touch was just a bit too forceful, a bit too much like a promise of something worse. “You’ll do just fine.” 

Catherine Parker stepped away and Parker hated her for it. She hated herself more for wanting her to come back.

“Jarod,” Catherine said.

“Almost ready, Mrs. P, ” he said cheerfully. Parker could imagine him dressed in a white lab coat, his insistence on dressing the part just one of his many ‘endearing’ quirks.

There was the sound of metal on metal. Parker’s imagination was tempered by her training. She knew exactly what instruments might appear on a surgeon's table, in what order and form. How sharp they had to be to open up skin, fat and muscle like a zipper.

The thing that was getting to her was that this was supposed to be a bloodless procedure: two doses to put her down, as many as it took to wake her up. There was no need for a surgeon’s tools. 

Not unless they had something else planned.

Jarod knew exactly what he was doing by drawing her attention to them.

“Jarod,” she said. He lived to torment her, but she’d never thought he’d actually want her dead. That he’d participate in her murder with his own hands. 

“Parker,” he answered. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, hoping that maybe, in these circumstances, one of the faint embers of his compassion might be reached.

“I don’t, do I?” he said thoughtfully, like the idea had never occurred until she mentioned it. 

Parker’s heart sank. That was sarcasm. 

“We could get Sydney to do it instead,” he said.

Sydney coughed harshly. 

“Relax, Parker,” Jarod said, approaching the bed. This time, she couldn’t keep her eyes closed. He was indeed wearing a white lab coat. “I survived, didn’t I?” 

The first trial. The thing that had given them the terrible idea in the first place. 

Jarod’s 'transition between worlds.'

“That wasn’t you,” Parker said. 

“My counterpart survived,” he said. “Close enough.” 

“You don’t actually know what happened,” Parker said.

“So little faith,” Jarod said, squeezing the air out of the needle. “I’ll have you know I spent weeks reverse engineering the experience.” 

This was insane.

“If you have a shred of decency left in you, you’ll stop this,” she whispered. “Jarod, please.”

He leaned over the bed, his face entirely too close. His breath was minty, a minor courtesy she hoped meant he was in a considerate mood. He studied her eyes calmly. 

In a quiet voice he said; “It really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s only for a week.”

Parker hated, hated, how much she relaxed at those words. Jarod believed she wasn’t going to stay dead. He was one hundred percent sure of their success.

There’s no way he’d actually kill her.

Not… intentionally.

“If I die,” Parker swallowed. “I’m going to kill you.” 

Jarod smiled. “You’ll have to come back first.” 

There was a prick on her arm and then nothing.

Parker felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Her cheek was squashed against gritty concrete and her head hurt fiercely. 

“Parker,” someone hissed. “Parker, wake up.” 

Parker groaned. Her mouth tasted like an ashtray.

“Parker, please.” Was that Jarod? He sounded… upset. “Please wake up.”

“Jarod?” she asked, speech a little slurred.

You’re supposed to be dead. A little slurred speech is nothing.

“Oh thank god,” Jarod breathed. He was strangely quiet, as though afraid of being overheard. What was he up to?

Parker pushed herself up, gritting her teeth against the pain. She paused midway, startled by the sight of her fingers. 

The tips were slightly yellow, though the manicure hid the worst of it. She forced the air in and out of her lungs mechanically, trying not to give the panic a foothold. These weren’t her hands.

“Parker?” Jarod asked.

Parker finished sitting up, constricted by her clothes. A blazer and a matching tight skirt. It was a far cry from the Centre's usual gray pajamas. Carefully, mindful of her throbbing head, she turned in Jarod’s direction.

He was sitting on the ground. His arms were spread out to either side, cuffed to the chain link fence behind him. As if this wasn’t enough, his ankles were bound together as thoroughly as a bungee jumper’s. 

The weirdest part was the open, honest concern in his eyes.

“Jarod?” she croaked.

“Yes,” he said. “How badly are you hurt?” 

“Why the hell,” she had to pause to swallow, her throat was so dry. “Why the hell are you tied up?”

What kind of game was he playing?

Jarod just stared at her. 

Parker stumbled to her feet, hobbled by the skirt and paused for the head rush. As she straightened up, she noticed something against her back.

“How hard did you hit your head?” Jarod asked, peering up at her.

Parker ignored him. Slowly, she reached for the firearm tucked into the small of her back. She brought it forward, fingers well away from the trigger and stared at it.

Who the hell would give her a gun? 

A loaded one, by the feel of it.

Familiar, in these tobacco stained hands. 

“Um, Parker,” Jarod said. “You already got me.” 

She looked at him. 

“Is the gun really necessary?” he asked.

“Why do I have a gun?” Parker asked.

Jarod’s eyes widened. 

Parker curled her lip, angry. “What kind of game is this Jarod? First you try to kill me, and then-!”

Parker stopped abruptly. 

Jarod had killed her. She wasn't dead. 

She wasn’t dead!

And…

This was the crazy dream she was supposed to have? It felt very real. Jarod had outdone himself, this time. Fantastic production values. She almost believed it.

Parker laughed, and the sound came out all wrong. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said. “Is this all just another one of your sick games?” 

Jarod adjusted his posture. It was common when he was ‘dropping the act’ or… starting a new one. Even this new Jarod, though, had kind eyes. 

Had he ever pretended to be kind? 

Parker might not have made it as far as she did if he had.

“I wish it was,” he said. “It’s not. Things are exactly as they appear. You caught me, and now we’re waiting for transport from the Centre to… take me back.” Understated tension tightened his throat.

“Back?” Jarod was the Centre. 

“You win, Miss Parker,” Jarod said. “Congratulations.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she hissed.

Jarod flinched back. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Who are you!?” Parker demanded. 

Jarod’s jaw dropped open. 

Outside, the sound of a helicopter's rotors could be heard. Parker reflexively ducked against the wall, scanning for the best cover. She breathed carefully through her nose, utterly lost on what to do next.

Well, she could shoot them.

The weight of the gun was comforting. 

“What are you doing, Parker?” Jarod asked. “Those are your allies.”

Parker barked a laugh. “That’d be the day.” 

“You won’t win a shootout,” Jarod said.

“Watch me. Anything is better than going back there,” she said.

“You- what. I.” Jarod said. “What is going on?” 

“I’m not going back,” Parker said. It was her one constant, so it was what she’d do. 

“You think I want to? Parker, please,” Jarod said, rattling the cuff against the fence. “Let me go, please let me go, I can help you.” 

Parker made the mistake of looking at him. 

Of meeting his eyes.

He looked like an animal in a trap. He looked like the friend from her youth. He looked scared out of his mind. 

He looked like he expected her to leave him  there, even as he hoped she wouldn’t.

“Please Parker,” he said. And then, he said her name. The one everyone forgot. The one thing that was still hers.

“How do you know that name?” she swallowed the unnamed emotion. She had never told him. Everything had changed before she could. As far as she knew, it was the one choice her mother had respected.

“Parker,” he said, snapping her back into the moment. “We’re running out of time.” He looked in the direction of the helicopter. “Please. Let me go. Neither of us need to go back. We can help each other. I can help you.”

Or she could leave him here. It occurred to her, if this wasn’t some elaborate mind game, that these people weren’t after her. If she left him, they’d forget about her long enough to let her escape.

If this was actually real, she was condemning him to her own worst nightmare.

Parker swore.

“Fine,” she snapped, shoving the gun back in its holster. She found keys for the cuffs in one of her decorative pockets and scrambled to unlock the cuffs. 

“Hurry,” he said. This close to him she could smell the sweat on him. She could feel the heat of fear, see the minute trembling in his muscles. “Hurry, hurry, hurry. They’re almost-”

“Shut up,” she said, flinging free one cuff and moving to the other.

Jarod started picking at the ropes around his ankles. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Please, please, please.”  

Parker didn’t have a knife. There was no way she could carry him. Not in these heels. She looked around for something and came back with a four caster dolly.

Jarod looked at it, then at her.

“What?” She snapped. “I’m not carrying you.” 

He shrugged and scooted onto the dolly, still working at the knots by his feet. Parker pulled him along by his shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” 

He nodded his head in the direction of, presumably, an exit, and she hurried them along. There were stacks of crates, shelving and strange little half walls. On the ground it gave them good cover. Above them, the warehouse was open to the ceiling.

It made it very easy to hear when one of the large bay doors opened.

Parker and Jarod froze. They were still too far from the exit. The dolly wheels made too much noise to keep going.

“What do we do?” she hissed.

Jarod redoubled his efforts on the knots. “You need to distract them.” 

“Me? They’ll-”

Actually, what would they do?

The Centre were her allies here? Jarod was their enemy?

Which was the more dangerous assumption: that this was fake, or this was real? 

Jarod was giving her a real self-satisfied smirk, like he could tell what she was thinking. If he was anything like her Jarod…

Parker shuddered.

Jarod wasn’t her anything.

“They’ll know something’s wrong,” Parker said. 

“They’ll be too focused on securing me to notice,” Jarod said. “You just need to keep them busy until I get these ropes off.” 

“And then what?” Parker asked. “You take off and leave me here with them?” 

“Parker, they’re not going to hurt you,” he said. “I promise.” 

“How do you know?” 

“They’re afraid of you. Just keep your head up, refuse to answer questions, and snap at everybody. You’ll be fine.” 

Parker tried to imagine people actually being afraid of her. Her mind kept returning to the hidden gun. 

“You won’t need it,” Jarod said.

“Stay out of my head,” Parker said.

“Go, I’ll help you as soon as I’m free,” Jarod said. 

Parker steeled herself and went. 

It wasn’t as hard as she expected. She was greeted with great deference. There were only two men, the rest remained to guard the helicopter.

Apparently Jarod had taken advantage of that weakness in the past.

Parker led them slowly to where she’d first woken up. To stall, she insisted they block off all other exits before attempting to move their captive. She watched imperiously as they worked, wasting a generous ten minutes.

By the time they reached the empty chain link fence, Jarod was ready with his ambush.

It was almost too easy. 

They left with the helicopter

Chapter Text

Jarod and Parker circled each other around the rental car like two predators. Or, more aptly, cat and mouse. Parker was the mouse, in this scenario.

“Thank you Jarod,” Parker said, keeping the hand with the key low, ready to use. She’d been surprised he’d handed it to her, until she realized it was the spare.

He intended to continue traveling with her.

“You’ve been a big help,” Parker said with a forced smile. “I can take it from here.”

Jarod did not look convinced. He kept taking steps towards her, and she kept taking steps away. “You hit your head hard, Parker,” he said. “I’m not leaving you alone.” 

Parker kept forgetting about the gash on her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice it, it was hard to ignore, but more that she kept being surprised by the concern. 

Especially from him. 

Delivered in such guileless, sympathetic tones.

“It’s fine,” Parker said.

“It’s not fine,” Jarod said. “You don’t even remember who you are.” 

“Who I am had you trussed up like a turkey, ready for delivery,” Parker said. “You should want to be as far away from me as physically possible.” 

It was certainly true for her.

“Not while you’re hurt,” he said.

He was going to insist, wasn’t he? At least his persistence was recognizable. “I don’t need your help,” she said. 

“I think you do,” he said.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Parker snapped.

“What am I to you, Parker?” he asked.

“A nightmare,” she answered immediately. “A relentless hound on my trail, always trying to bring me back in, when you aren’t playing mind games.” 

“I-” he stumbled over the word. “I chase you?”

“I’ll give you this,” Parker said. “This is a really good act.” 

“I’m not acting!” 

“You are the best liar in the world,” she said. “You think I would forget that?”

“What can I do?” he asked. “What can I do to gain your trust?” 

“Leave me alone,” Parker growled. “Leave me alone forever and then we’ll talk about trust.” 

As was typical, her wishes were ignored. “Why don’t you want to go back to the Centre?” 

Parker laughed. “Are you kidding?”

“Humour me,” he said. “It’s nothing I shouldn’t know, if I was trying to take you back. Right?” 

Parker twisted her mouth. This was… did she really have to spell it out for him? How could he possibly misuse the information? 

What more could he do to her? She was already caught. If they went to all this trouble to set up an elaborate mindfuck, it was already too late for her. He already had her name.

What more could they take?

“Where should I start?” she asked. “The years kept locked in a room like a prisoner? The soul crushing simulations? The complete lack of control over the smallest part of my life? The fact that I can’t-” Parker’s voice cracked. “That I can’t ever leave? What did you expect me to say? ‘This five star resort occasionally forgets to leave chocolates on my pillow, I want my money back’?”

Jarod stopped moving. Unfortunately, this left Parker at the trunk, and not conveniently at the driver side door. 

She watched him carefully. His expression was an adequate facsimile of shock.

“You’re a pretender,” he said.

“No shit,” Parker said.

“Like me.” 

“Nobody’s like you, Jarod,” she said. “You’re unmatched. It’s why the rest of us get the shit jobs and you run the show.”

“I…” he looked a little green. “You think I run… the Centre?” 

“Not officially,” Parker said.

“I work for them?” His voice was reedy. Not enough air run over tight vocal chords. It was quite the effect. 

“For my mother, mostly,” Parker said. 

Jarod stumbled forward and braced himself with one hand on the hood of the car. Parker jerked back. 

“Parker,” he gasped. “Parker, your mother’s dead. She died trying to… That you would even say such a thing… I- I…”

Dead? Impossible. That woman wouldn’t die if you killed her. There was a part of Parker that almost felt relieved at the idea that she could be gone.

There was a larger part that wasn’t done with her yet.

“Funny,” she said. “I’m pretty sure my mother would eviscerate even you for a lie like that.” 

“Parker, what the hell?” Jarod asked.

She’d never seen him so scandalized. “Fine,” Parker said. “If my mother’s dead, who runs the Centre?” 

Tentatively, like he was expecting to step on a landmine, he spoke. “Your father.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she said. She nearly pulled her gun. “My father is missing, and he’s missing because he tried to get me out of there. He would never participate in- in that. Never.” 

“He’s the chairman,” Jarod said evenly.

“I will shoot you,” Parker snarled. “Don’t think I won’t, you liar!” Still, she didn’t pull her gun.

“Do you want to see him?” Jarod asked.

The bottom of Parker’s stomach dropped out.

“What have you done with him?” she demanded. “Let him go.” 

“I haven’t done anything,” Jarod said.

“This is ludicrous,” Parker said. “He’s been missing for years. I’ve been looking for him every chance I get. You can’t have found him.”

“Do you want to see him?” Jarod asked. 

Parker didn’t know why she bothered, but she studied his face for the lie. The trap. The tilt of a satisfied grin. The flicker of dishonesty. 

But.

Her father. How much would she risk, just to see him? Just one more time. To know he was ok. 

Parker took an unsteady breath and nodded. “Yes, yes I want to see him.” 

Jarod squared his shoulders and sighed. “Alright. Then… get in the car. I’ll take you to him.”

“What are you doing?” Parker demanded.

She could see very well what he was doing. He was pulling into the parking lot of an ice cream parlor and cutting the engine.

“Stopping for ice cream,” he said. 

“I thought you were taking me to see my father,” she said.

“I am. I will,” he said. “But to do that, we need to go to Delaware and get very close to the Centre. If something… goes wrong... at least I’ll have had ice cream before it did.”

Parker stared at him. He was treating this like a last meal. “If it’s that dangerous to do this, why are you?”

Jarod shrugged. “I owe you one.” 

“Because I let you go?”

“I think we need to talk,” Jarod said. “And in order for you to believe any of it, there’s things you need to see. One of those things is your father, alive and well.”

“What could we possibly need to talk about?”

“What you think is happening here, for one,” Jarod said. “You remember things very differently than I do.”

Yeah, that was because Jarod was trying to get her to think she was actually in another timeline, or universe or something. It was impressive how far he seemed willing to go, and how many people were involved. Even then, he was only asking questions that he should already know the answers to.

It was unsettlingly consistent. 

“Fine, we’ll talk,” Parker agreed.

Jarod smiled, and it transformed his whole face. She looked away.

“Do you like ice cream?” he asked. “We can get something else too, if there’s something you prefer.” 

“Ice cream is fine,” she said. She was itching for something, and ice cream seemed appealing enough.

The weird thing was, as much as they restricted her diet in the Centre, they never forbade sweets. Alcohol was the one she was really going to miss. The weeks where she could hole up somewhere completely off grid with a couple bottles, secure in the knowledge Jarod would be left with a cold trail…

Those were the best.

She wasn’t about to relax like that in front of this man.

They settled outside with their bowls. Parker sat with her back to the sun, letting it drape over her shoulders like a blanket. She allowed herself to relax in it, though she kept her eyes carefully on Jarod. 

He watched her intently, his hands folded in front of his mouth.

“Your ice cream is going to melt,” she said.

“The sunshine never gets old, does it?” he asked.

Parker shrugged, dropping her attention to her bowl. She stirred it, waiting for it to soften. 

“I’m not trying to catch you out, Parker,” he said.

“Sure, Jarod, anything you say,” she said.

He sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I don’t… I don’t know what you expect from me. Our relationship is… adversarial, but you’ve never distrusted me this much. I’m not out to hurt you. At the very least, you used to know when I was telling the truth.” 

Parker raised an eyebrow. “Initially, I wanted you to go away, but you stuck around. Then you told me you were going to take me to my father, but now we’re eating ice cream.”  

She took a slow bite, enjoying the discomfort Jarod displayed. 

“I…” he fidgeted with the spoon. “I didn’t know what else to do. The way you’re acting, it scares me, Parker.” 

“I? Scare you?” Parker laughed.

“Between the two of us, who has a gun?” he asked. “Who started this adventure chained to a fence?” 

Parker narrowed her eyes. “Set dressing.”

“What would any of this accomplish?” Jarod asked, the muscles around his eyes tightening. Stress. Or the illusion of it.

“Nobody knows,” Parker said. “There’s so many layers to your plans, sometimes I don’t think you even know.” 

“Have ‘I’ ever done anything so elaborate before?” he asked. He used the air quotes and everything. 

The short answer was no. But there were so many minor betrayals over so many years, she found it hard to trust anything she felt towards him.

Right now, every instinct was screaming at her to trust him. That she was missing the real issue by keeping her focus on him. 

She had no idea how he had her so thoroughly turned around, but she wasn’t going to make it easy. Like hell she was going to drop her defenses now. If he did care… if he did actually want to help…

Then he would just have to understand.

“Look,” Parker said. “I’ll play along for now. Let’s say we both remember two different histories, what then?” 

“Well,” Jarod said. “I want to know why. You hit your head, Parker, but the more I talk to you the less this seems like brain damage.” 

“What else could it be?”

“That’s just the thing. I can’t think of what else it could be,” he said. 

“I could be lying,” Parker said. “Making it all up. Pretending.” 

“You’re not,” he said. “It’s too different, and you haven’t once touched the pocket with your cigarettes in it.” 

Fuck. She’d almost forgotten about that. Now that he mentioned it, she could feel the discomfort of withdrawal. 

Getting her hooked on nicotine, that would be a heck of a trick to manage without her knowing. She patted her pockets, looking for the case.

Jarod pulled it out of his own.

“When did you-” when had he gotten that close to her?

“You dropped it,” he said. “I was waiting to see how long you would go before demanding it back.” 

“Keep it,” Parker said. She shivered in the sun. Knowing what the feeling was, she was able to disentangle her throbbing head from the other symptoms. 

Jarod looked close to tears. He blinked, and the effect was gone. “Here,” he said, sliding a box of nicotine patches across to her.

If he hadn’t been the one to set this all up, she’d have been grateful. “Thanks,” she said, discreetly applying one to her wrist. 

“I… I didn’t do this to you, Parker,” he said.

“Sure,” she smiled tightly. “So what now?”

He looked like he was going to protest. Like he was going to make more saccharine overtures about how much he cared. How much he only wanted to help her. 

He sighed deeply. “We compare histories, see what’s changed,” he said. 

“And how will we do that?”

“It seems like we know the same people but they play different roles. Your mother… did she always run the Centre?”

Parker shook her head. “No. When I was a little girl, it was my father. After Raines took over-”

“Just to be clear,” Jarod interrupted. “By Raines we mean the evil disgraced doctor with an oxygen tank?”

“Who else?” 

“Just checking,” Jarod said. “If you remembered Raines the altruistic saint who saved the lives and souls of children…” 

Parker choked. 

“No, no, definitely not,” she said. “He’s a ghoul.” 

“Interesting that Raines is our one constant, so far,” Jarod said with an empty smile.

“He’s a boat anchor,” Parker agreed.

Jarod snorted. “How did Raines oust your father?” 

“Raines wanted me to be included in the Pretender project. My father didn’t. Raines went over his head,” Parker said.

Jarod leaned back. “He protected you.” 

Parker glared at him. Of course her father protected her.

“No, really. In the history I remember, they never placed you in the project. You went to school, lived your life,” he said. “And your father remained in power.” 

Parker clenched her hands. “He never stopped trying to get me out, even with the threat his own life. He had to go into hiding after the last attempt.”

“I’m sorry,” Jarod said.

“You’re not.” 

“He’s… he sounds very different to the man I know. I wish I knew the man you did.” 

“I don’t know where he is,” Parker said. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

“I know where he is,” Jarod said. “But you will need to be cautious around him.” 

“I know how to speak to my own father,” Parker said. 

Jarod tilted his head. “Even if he turns out not to be the man you know?” 

“I’ll determine that for myself,” she said.

Jarod lifted his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. So your father ran the Centre until Raines ran a successful coup. Then what?”

“Catherine escaped with you and the other children.” 

“Not you?” 

Parker pulled her lips tight. “It was a math equation. Me, for everybody else.” 

“She. She left you?” 

“I saved her life,” Parker said, sitting straighter. “I stayed so she could live. It seemed the best choice at the time. Raines wanted me alive more than he wanted her dead, so it seemed worth the risk. He just didn’t realize that meant she would take the rest of the children.”

“Parker,” he said, breathless. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Stuff it,” Parker said. Her ice cream was only half gone, but she wasn’t hungry anymore. She folded her hands under her elbows. “What happened to her in your memories?” 

“From what we can tell, she had a plan to save the children. Me. Us,” he said.

Parker nodded stiffly. 

“Us, including you,” Jarod said. 

Parker flinched back. “I might have believed that once.” 

Jarod nodded and didn’t press. “She died the day before her planned attempt.”

“How?” Parker asked.

“She was found in the elevator after we heard gunshots, on one of the lower levels,” he said solemnly. “They wrote it off as a suicide, but…” 

“Someone shot her,” Parker said.

“It makes the most sense,” Jarod said.

“The Parker you know didn’t save her.” 

“She didn’t get a chance."

The conversation stalled. Either way, her family headed the Centre. 

“If she died, then she never got you out,” Parker said. “So you, what, you stayed? With… with Sydney.” 

It was how it was supposed to be. Jarod was Sydney’s project, until Catherine liberated all the pretenders (minus one). Parker had been assigned to Sydney, as he was the most experienced. Got the best results. He was able to do something with even a below average pretender like her.

“Yes,” Jarod said. “I was raised by Sydney.”

“Well, so was I,” Parker said. 

Jarod jerked. “You… and Sydney…?” 

“Careful, you almost sound jealous there,” Parker said. “You can keep him. I won’t fight you for him.” Which was not entirely true, but giving Jarod any glimpse of her weakness was not wise.

“No, no, I-” Jarod said. “Sydney was all I had. In many ways he was like a father. In others… I can’t forgive him yet.” 

“Don’t act like you understand,” Parker said, clenching her fists under the table. “Maybe he protected me from the worst of it, but he was a coward whenever it really counted. I’ll never forgive him.” 

He had just watched while they killed her. Pretended to kill her. 

Whatever.  

Jarod looked away. 

“I guess Sydney is another constant.”

Chapter Text

Being back in Blue Cove made them both jumpy.

Seeing Jarod walk like he was afraid of being seen or heard was surreal. He kept startling her every time he reappeared by her elbow. The really scary thing was she didn’t notice when he went missing half the time.

They didn’t argue over who drove the rental car.

They didn’t stop for ice cream.

He took them to a quiet forested neighbourhood. He drove past one particularly familiar house several times before parking five blocks away. 

He sat for a moment, both hands tight on the wheel while the car cooled.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked, his voice reduced to a low rumble.

She shook her head.

“Ok.” He breathed out carefully through his nose. “Ok, follow me.” 

They walked the five blocks back to the familiar house. Parker was a shadow on his heels. They crouched in the garden like thieves, watching the dark house. 

The night air encouraged alertness without pinching her fingers with cold. Parker kept her breathing slow, listening for any sign of activity. Jarod’s leather jacket creaked as he breathed, and she glared at him. 

He removed it carefully, folding and tucking it under his arms.

Eventually he seemed satisfied the house was safe. She followed him inside as he let himself in the back door.

As soon as she crossed the threshold she was nearly brought to her knees.

“This is my mother’s house,” she said, bracing herself against a wall. 

The smell was muted, but still so much the same. Some of the furniture had been replaced, but the layout was retained. This house…

This house!

“It’s your house,” Jarod said. He had barely entered more than two steps. Only enough to close the door and step out of line of the windows.

Parker’s practised eyes picked him out of the shadows with some effort.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

“We needed a place to stay, and this one comes with a full wardrobe,” he said.

That wasn’t all. “You’re trying to unnerve me, bringing me here,” Parker said.

“The unnerving part should be that I have a key,” he said. “Not that you are in your house.” 

Parker tried to imagine having a place that was hers, of Jarod being able to access it so easily. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it should. She was starting to see him as an ally, as someone separate from the Jarod she knew. The manipulation was in full swing. 

She was too tired to fight it.

“You don’t expect me to sleep here, do you?” 

“We don’t have to,” he said. “But we should grab some of your things and check your voicemail.”

Parker nodded. She moved slowly through the rooms, not brave enough to turn on any of the lights. She moved like a shadow between shadows. Bitter nostalgia stung her every sense. 

“It’s so much the same,” she said, her throat aching.

She wouldn’t cry. Not over this. 

Jarod intentionally scuffed his foot to warn of his proximity. “You aren’t… she wasn’t sentimental about many things,” he said by her ear. “But anything that was your mother’s…” 

Parker sniffed and rubbed at her nose. “I guess we all miss what we can’t have.” 

“Take your time,” he said. “I’ll watch the street.” Jarod moved away, the old floor planks creaking gently as a courtesy.

Parker found her old bedroom, a dollhouse out of time. She shut the door before she could think about it and moved to her mother’s.

It was obvious it was lived in. She could recognize the items inherited from her mother. They were placed like sacred objects. Anything more day to day remained where it had been dropped.

The antique mirror became a portrait of a ghost as soon as she stepped in front of it. In this room, it felt strange not to be five steps back, watching from the door. Instead she met her reflection head on.

Here, even with hair out of place and her suit rumpled, she’d never looked more like her mother.

Parker rode out the wave of panic mechanically. She didn’t have time for the stuttered breath or numbness in her fingers. Her body had its own ideas. She managed to get a blanket over the mirror, which eased the sensation of being watched enough to give her a modicum of control.

She needed…

She needed to get changed.

The closet was full of expensive clothing. She didn’t know what to do with any of it, so she dug under the spare blanket and shoe boxes until she found a reasonable looking pair of jeans. There was one pair of flats in the corner, which immediately hurt her feet when she tried them on. 

“That is not fair,” she grumbled, searching for shoes with a heel that didn’t also double as a murder weapon. 

Undershirts would have to do for her top, with a blazer thrown over. The satin pajamas looked good, though, so in her bag they went. Shawls, hats and sunglasses were also a key find. She’d have to do something about her hair as well.

She paused.

Was she actually on the run, now? What did they think of her disappearance with Jarod?

She packed a couple outfits like the ones she woke up in. Pretending to be ‘Parker’ might come in handy. She grabbed soaps and toiletries, grudgingly admiring the selection. 

She found Jarod in the same room as the answering machine. The light was on, so there were messages to check. 

She approached it warily.

“I can leave, if you want,” Jarod said. 

Another strange kindness. She still would rather he stay where she could see him.

“It’s fine,” she said. 

The first message was from her father.

“Angel,” it said, starting right out with the emotional uppercut. “I missed you today in the office. Call me, we need to talk.”

It was… abrupt. Colder than she expected. The expected relief and joy died stale in her throat.

The next message was for an appointment she had missed. The third, Sydney. 

“I hope you’re alright, Parker,” he said. “Let me know when you’re back.”

Typically cryptic and polite, given the situation. 

“He never changes,” she grumbled.

“He cares for you,” Jarod commented.

“I don’t need comments from the peanut gallery,” she said.

“Peanut gallery?” he asked.

Parker paused the tape. “That's where you draw the line?” 

“No, no, I just mean I don’t know what that is,” he said.

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

“There’s a lot of things I missed,” he said. “They had the idea I needed to kept… isolated. Uncontaminated. For the work.”

Parker hadn’t been insulated from popular culture. Thinking back on it, it was always Jarod himself who brought her books and movies, like a cat presenting a dead mouse. He insisted it was necessary for her cultural education, and Sydney had no choice but to humour him. 

But then, Parker wasn’t the genius who could walk through walls. She wasn’t any more likely to escape because she knew what she was missing. Being able to play pinball wasn’t going to lessen her ability to relate to a serial killer, or a world leader, or some other enemy.

“Hm,” she said. “It used to be the cheap seats at the theatre. People would make useless commentary while the play was going,” 

“Peanuts, though?” he asked.

“You would rather popcorn?” 

“I prefer pez,” he said. 

The fourth message was strange. It wasn’t a voice she recognized. The man was whispering on the phone, as though afraid to be overheard. 

Wouldn’t save him if the line was bugged.

“Parker,” he said. “It’s me, Broots! You didn’t show up at the office again today. Where are you? There’s a lot of strange rumours going around that you’re actually missing. They say it was Jarod, but, hah, um. That would be crazy, right? Listen, I have to tell you-” 

The message cut off, too long for the allotted time. The next message was ‘Broots’ again. 

“Sorry, got cut off. Listen, call me, alright? Before anyone else. Just… please be okay, Miss Parker.”

Parker looked up at Jarod. “Who’s Broots? Do we need to worry about him?” 

Jarod smiled, just a gleam of teeth in the dark. “Your boyfriend.” 

Parker scowled. “He’s not.” 

“How would you know?” Jarod asked lightly. “Is something coming back to you?”

“Just context.” The smile was a dead giveaway. She wasn’t in on the joke, but she could tell she was the butt of this one. “Who is he?” 

“He’s on your team. He’s harmless. He specializes in computers,” Jarod said.

“What team?”  

“The team for tracking me down and capturing me,” Jarod said.

“I chase you?” Parker asked. “That’s my job?” 

She couldn’t think of anything more appalling. Jarod was terribly difficult to run from. Trying to catch him would be a nightmare.

“For almost two years, now,” Jarod said. He slunk away from the window and sat on the couch across from her. “Before you hit your head yesterday, you had almost succeeded.”

Parker tried to imagine actually succeeding at that impossible task. Why would she even want to? 

“What’s the point?” she asked. He’d be out again days after being contained, she was sure. “What could they possibly gain from forcing you?”

Jarod just watched her. In the dark, the streetlights cast his face in shadow. It wasn’t enough to make out his expression. “Why does the Centre do anything?” he asked. “Sometimes I think they only exist to manufacture pain.” 

“They’re very good at it,” Parker said. “I’m a little sick of the business model, myself.” 

Jarod’s breath hitched. “How are you so…” he shifted. “I don’t… what do you want from me, Parker?” 

His voice was raw. 

Demanding.

He held his hands in tight claws, like he was ready to lunge across the coffee table and shake her.

Parker recoiled. “Nothing,” she said, hating how quiet and scared her voice was. “I want nothing from you.”

He wasn’t listening. 

“Why did I have to lose you completely in order for you to understand?” he asked, leaning forward. 

“I don’t understand,” Parker said, breath catching. What was upsetting him? What had she done wrong?

“I-” he took in a shaky breath. He shook out his hands and leaned back, releasing his tension and quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t… nevermind. We should… are you ready? We should go.” 

Parker was still frozen, feeling like any movement might set him off, and felt foolish for it. Jarod was never simple. There were always five goals at once. It was impossible to avoid giving him anything, there was always something. 

But usually he was in control.

“It’s ok, Parker,” Jarod said. “You're not her, I understand, it’s okay.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Parker said.

“I just want to understand what’s different,” he said. “I don’t want to take you back to the Centre. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“You don’t want me to be afraid of you,” Parker said, feeling the unspoken words.

“It’s a little bit much to ask, isn’t it,” Jarod said. 

“Yes,” she said. “But you… you mean it, don’t you.” 

Jarod, the one she knew, thrilled in her terror. He loved keeping her off balance and out of sorts. He would occasionally try to soothe her, but his impatience ruined most of his efforts. He found her reactions too interesting to resist.

This man, however…

“I’m not her, whoever it is you see when you look at me. I’m different.” 

“You are,” Jarod agreed. “I know that.”

It would have to do. She shook herself, resetting. “Alright, let’s get out of here.” 

They called Mr. Broots from the seedy motel they found for the night. Jarod assured her their location was obfuscated, but to be safe Parker would pretend she was alone. 

“Uh, hello?”  Broots answered on the third ring. 

“Broots,” Parker said.

They were also going to keep up the facade that Parker was her old self. Broots was a fantastic test run before trying to meet her father.

“Miss Parker! Oh thank god you’re alright! Where are you? They said Jarod-” 

“Nevermind that,” Parker said shortly. “What did you need to tell me?” 

“O-oh! Um, right, I had to… I had to tell you… What happened to you? Last I knew you called in a team to pick up Jarod and then, bam, you were gone! What happened?” Broots asked.

“What do you think happened? It’s Jarod,” she said. 

Jarod gave her finger guns. 

She returned with a cruder gesture. 

“Right, right, it’s Jarod. I just… you seemed so sure, this time,” Broots said. 

“When has that ever stopped him?” Parker asked.

“Right, where did you go? Where are you?” Broots asked urgently. 

“Somewhere safe,” she said. “I’m not getting into it over the phone. This isn’t over.” 

“You’re on his tail?” Broots asked, doubt infusing his tone. 

“I’ve got my eyes on him right now.”

“Right, good, but you returned home first,” Broots said. 

Parker felt a spike of alarm before she realized he would know she listened to his message on her machine. “Is someone watching my house?” 

“Not that I know of, but… that doesn’t mean anything,” Broots said. “The Centre doesn’t have anything on you, that I can tell.” 

“That doesn’t rule out a private contractor,” she said. 

Jarod caught her eye and shook his head. He followed it by swiping one hand over the other. 

Clean. 

“But if you’re after Jarod and you’re in Delaware, then that means-!” 

“Hmm, I wonder,” Parker interrupted. She didn't need him announcing their location to anyone who could be listening. “Broots. Focus. Ten words or less, what do you need to tell me?”

“Ten words? That’s a little-” 

Parker growled.

“Your father is in danger,” Broots said. 

“Daddy?” Parker’s heart squeezed. “Where is he? What’s happening? Tell me.” 

“I will, I will! Just. Miss Parker. I don’t know who you can trust in the Centre. I think it’s…” Broots must have cupped the receiver, his breathing blew out the speaker with each anxious exhale. 

“Don’t eat the receiver Broots,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on tipping anyone off that I was even in town until I was ready. I’ll stay off the radar for now.” 

“Good, okay, good. If there’s anything…” 

“How do you know he’s in danger?” She asked. 

“I intercepted an email while, um. While. Ahem, anyway, someone ordered a hit.” 

“By email?” Parker asked. 

“Well, kinda. Well, yes? It’s… complicated. But. Someone in the next couple days is going to try to kill your father,” Broots said. 

“Do you know who? Or where?”

“Just that they’re Russian, and… um. Good at their job,” Broots said. “As for your father, um. He’s taking a couple days. I… I don’t know where. You probably know better than me where he likes to vacation.” 

“I’ll figure it out. Keep digging, let me know anything you find,” Parker said. She gave him the number of the burner cell Jarod had given her. “And Broots?” 

“Yes Miss Parker?” 

“Thank you,” she said. She hung up before he could finish stuttering out his farewell. Her hand dropped to her side and she slouched, exhausted. 

“That was perfect,” Jarod said. “You sounded just like her.”

“Someone’s planning to kill my father,” she said, too drained to summon up the proper horror. 

Jarod’s face fell. “Again?”

Chapter Text

With Jarod’s help, figuring out the where and when of it was trivial. He made a few phone calls in English, a few in Russian, and they were on their way to a quaint seaside village before noon.

“It will be more difficult to fool your father about your memory loss,” Jarod said. “But not by much.” 

Parker nodded. He was probably (infuriatingly) right, but there was still a part of her that expected everything to be fixed as soon as she saw her father. That he would see her and immediately know something was wrong, and then turn the world upside down to fix it. 

But she couldn’t get that coldly clipped message off her mind. Other than the endearment, that wasn’t how her father spoke to her. 

“I’ll take care of the assassin,” Jarod promised. “But I will need you to keep Mr. Parker to areas with cover, just in case.”

“Got it,” Parker agreed. “How will I know when it’s safe?” 

“If all goes well, you won’t,” he chuckled. “I’ll call your phone, let it ring twice and hang up. That will be the all-clear.” 

“And if it doesn’t go well?” 

Jarod grinned helplessly. “Duck for cover?” 

She was going to hit him. 

“This is my father’s life, ” she said. 

“I know. It’s going to be okay,” Jarod said. “This isn’t the most sophisticated attempt at your father’s life. You’ve saved him before with less.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Why would they attempt this if previous attempts were unsuccessful?” Parker asked.

“You’re supposed to be out of town,” Jarod said. “And I’m not supposed to be helping. This is likely a hasty attempt to take advantage of your absence.”

“Do I really tip the scales so far in his favour?” Parker asked. It seemed like they’d only uncovered this by chance, and Jarod had done most of the heavy lifting. 

“You underestimate yourself,” Jarod said. “If you still had your memories, you’d have resources other than me.”

Parker had a hard time seeing it, but it wasn’t time to argue. She had to put on the mask of the cold, competent Parker and keep her father safe. The strange clothes helped keep her in the moment. So long as she didn’t mind her reflection, she should be steady.

Jarod dropped her off on one of the smaller streets. Her father would be meeting somebody at the local seafood restaurant. She saw him through the window as she walked by.

He looked like a businessman. She almost didn’t recognize him. He was smiling falsely at his companions and shaking hands, laughing like a man who was three drinks in. 

It looked like they were wrapping up. He’d be coming out onto the street soon, and she didn’t see any Centre issue cars waiting to whisk him away. 

It was a strange thought to be disappointed by. 

Luckily, the awning off the restaurant was quite large. It would give good cover if she could keep him under it. 

Or better yet, the boutique shop next to it. It was an older building, and as such sported smaller windows. It might not have easy exits, but she only needed to keep him from getting shot from a long range.

Anything else she could deal with herself. 

The restaurant door opened and her father exited, leading the pack as his bodyguard and lawyer flanked him. 

“Daddy,” she said.

He looked up at her. 

“Angel?” 

And just like that, just like that, Parker knew this wasn’t her world. Her father had masked it, but there had been the briefest flicker of irritation when he recognized her. 

Parker swallowed, shoving the feeling down, and hastily approached. She still had a job to do.

“Angel, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Did you finally catch Jarod? Came to give me the news in person?"

The smile he gave her was just… wrong. It…

“Daddy,” she said, pressing close and taking his elbow. “Not now.” 

“What’s wrong, Angel?” he asked. “You’re interrupting an important meeting. Couldn’t this wait?” 

Every time he used that name…

“It’s important,” she said. “Somebody is trying to kill you.”

Her father… laughed?

“Oh, somebody’s always trying,” he said. “But they never get anywhere, do they?” 

Other Parker had really been spoiling him, hadn’t she? Her own father would have tried to switch their positions by now, taking the outside of the sidewalk. As it was, Parker had to glare the bodyguard into position. 

“We should get to cover, Daddy,” Parker urged. She just wanted this over with. 

It was like handling a stranger.

“As you wish, Angel, as you wish,” he said. 

Like he was doing her a favour. 

“Let’s just go in here,” Parker said, guiding him into the boutique. 

“Ah, you never waste a chance to get in a little shopping, do you,” he commented. 

The place was full of designer purses, which was a strange choice for a ‘quaint’ seaside town. There were a few folksy paintings and nautical items for flavor, but the stock was all high end ladies fashion items. 

Parker only needed them for the small front windows. 

The bodyguard remained outside at the door, watching the front. The lawyer was the only man acting as one should be, given the circumstances. He looked pale and sweaty, but surprisingly didn’t give voice to his fear. 

Parker took pity on him. “Find the back exit,” she told him. “Go to the car and tell them what’s happening.” 

“What- what is happening?” he asked. 

“Likely a sniper,” Parker said. “I have a team searching for them. My father is the target, they won’t risk giving away their location if they don’t see him. You’ll be safe.” 

Probably.

“Right, right,” the man said. “Thank you.” He disappeared quickly enough.

“Women and purses. I really don’t understand what you see see in these things,” her father said, frowning at the leather selection. 

He sounded like he was perfectly safe. Like she'd dragged him out for a little shopping, and not into hiding from a sniper. “Daddy, your life is in danger right now,” Parker said slowly. 

The woman who had been approaching them to help froze, and quickly scuttled away.

“You’ve got it handled though, don’t you Angel?” her father said. 

“Of course,” Parker said automatically. “But it’s not over yet. We need to be careful.” 

“Relax, do a little shopping. Take your mind off of things,” he said. “You can never have too many purses, now can you?” 

Parker wasn't wearing a purse. She doubted this man's daughter ever had. If Parker was looking for an accessory, they'd be in a gun shop.

Parker’s phone started to ring. She listened tensely, hoping it would cut off after two, but it kept going.

Who the hell…

She’d only given the number out to one other person. She answered the phone.

“Broots, this had better be important,” Parker answered shortly.

“Oh thank god, Miss Parker! Are you with your father? It’s-” 

“The point, Broots, get to it,” she snapped.

“They hired more than one!” he said. “The assassin doesn’t work alone!"

"How many?"

"I... don't actually know. They don't exactly advertise it, but they are unusually expensive."

"You know the market price on assasins?" Parker asked.

"You have no idea the shit I learn doing this job," Broots said. "But there's probably two, going by the numbers."

Great.

“Got it. Don’t call me back,” Parker ordered. She snapped the phone shut.

“Everything alright, Angel?” her father asked. 

“We’re not in the clear yet,” she said, approaching the front windows cautiously. It was hard to get a good angle on the street and local buildings, which was the point, but it also left her feeling awfully claustrophobic. 

Her phone started ringing again. Once.

Twice.

Three rings.

 Four. 

“Broots, I told you to-” 

“He had a partner,” Jarod panted into the phone. “He got away from me. He’s headed to your location. I’ll try to head him off, but be ready.” 

The call dropped before she could respond. 

Parker put the phone away and discretely drew her gun. 

“Angel?” 

“Not now,” she said. Would he head in through the back or the front? Considering the bodyguard was stationed at the entrance, Parker put her money on the back. 

“Excuse me,” the boutique attendant interrupted. Parker turned, and the woman recoiled at the sight of the gun. 

The attendant raised her hands in surrender.

Parker wasn’t even aiming at her, for god’s sake, she held it pointed safely at the floor.

“Get to cover,” she told her. “Take him with you.” 

“But-” 

“Just do it,” Parker ordered. “Let me do my job and everything will be fine, I promise.” 

“Are you police?” the woman asked. 

“Something like that,” Parker said. “Go.” 

She stalked to the back. The woman and her father ducked behind the sale counter, grumbling all the way. Luckily there were no other customers to worry about. She found the back door and waited. Whoever entered wouldn’t see her until it was too late. 

After several tense moments, the door was flung open. A man rushed through, gun at the ready. He was fast, but sloppy. They were in the store proper before Parker could get to him. He was so focused on her father and lining up his shot he didn’t notice her until she pushed metal to his neck. 

“Drop it,” she hissed. 

The man had good reflexes. Luckily, they were survival ones. He shifted his grip on his gun so that it dangled from one finger and raised his hands.

“Not good enough,” Parker said. “Drop. It.” 

Slowly the man crouched to place the gun on the ground. Parker only had a couple seconds to be irritated at his stalling when the back door slammed open again.

Parker just took in the arrival of a third gunman before he was tackled to the ground by Jarod himself.

Meanwhile, Parker’s target used her distraction as a chance to bring his gun to bear on her. 

Instinctively she kicked, sending the piece clattering to the ground. He didn’t lose a beat, swinging wide with his other arm to knock her off balance. 

Parker hit the floor, but she kept her aim true. 

He only got two steps towards his gun before she could say, “Hold it.” 

He froze again. Looked back at her carefully from the side of his eye. 

The man Jarod had pinned struggled.

“Jarod?” her father said. 

Jarod kept his focus on his task, though she didn’t miss the flinch in his shoulders. 

“Angel, he's right there!" her father said. 

“Slightly busy at the moment,” Parker said. “Saving your life.” 

“Never mind that,” her father said excitedly. “Jarod is here. We’ve got him! At long last, everything will be set right."

Parker exchanged a brief glance with Jarod. 

How the hell were they going to get out of this? 

Jarod was risking his life and freedom for a man that didn’t deserve it. A man that was, in fact, the problem. 

But it wasn’t like Parker was about to let him die either, father or no.

From where she was, she couldn’t stand without giving the second gunman an opening. Jarod couldn’t move without letting up the third. But maybe…

Parker kicked her legs forward, driving them into the back of the second gunman’s knees. He dropped, and she used the momentum to get to her feet. He was still reaching for his gun when Parker hit him hard enough to knock him out.

She flicked the loose gun with her foot, sending it far out of reach. 

She turned to Jarod. She expected him to relax, now that they had things under control, but he was still watching her father. He shifted his weight forward, and Parker felt a spike of alarm. 

“Jarod, no,” she said. 

But he’d already sprung to his feet and was out the back door, leaving the third gunman behind as an obstacle. The man tried to stagger to his feet.

He froze when he saw Parker’s gun aimed at him. 

“Angel, what are you doing?” her father demanded. “Jarod is getting away!”

The shout was enough to finally, finally, summon the bodyguard from the front. With him in the room, the situation was more than handled. Her ‘father’ was safe. 

“What the hell are you waiting for? Go get him!” her father yelled, genuinely angry. 

Angry at her. 

Parker steeled her heart. This wasn’t her father. This was some terrible dream. “Yes, I’ll get him.”

She turned and ran.

Jarod was waiting for her at the car. She got in silently and they drove out of town. It took a long time before either of them spoke.

“You’re crying,” Jarod said, breaking their grim silence.

Parker touched her face. Her hand came away wet. “So I am,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Parker snorted. “Why are you apologizing?” 

“It seemed like the thing to do.” 

“That wasn’t…” Parker took a deep breath. “That man wasn’t my father.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jarod said. 

“He was so cold,” Parker said, shuddering. “He didn’t care about me at all. I don’t think he even saw me, except as a nuisance.” 

“I’m sorry he’s not the man you thought he was,” Jarod said.

“But he is,” Parker said. “Just- just not here. My father… Jarod, my father loves me. He sacrificed everything for me. I don’t doubt it. But that man…” 

“She has a hard time with it too,” Jarod said. “Even though she’s never known anyone better. She still thinks the best of him. Or… only admits that she thinks the best of him.”

“He’s an empty husk,” Parker said. 

Jarod smiled wanly, eyes still on the road. “So do you believe me now? That this isn’t some trick?” 

Parker nodded. 

As she did, the implications unfolded, leaving her feeling untethered and scrambled. It made no sense. Jarod had to be lying, but he wasn’t. It was impossible, but the facts were all there in front of her face. 

“I can’t believe they actually did it,” Parker said. She pressed her cool hands over her eyes, trying to sooth them. Trying to stay grounded as the world pitched and yawed around her. Everything she thought she knew…

“Actually did what?” Jarod asked quietly. 

“Sent me over to the other side,” Parker said. She laughed, a little breathless. 

Breathe, Parker. Fucking inhale.

Parker swallowed air.

“Parker, you’re not dead,” Jarod said, something like alarm underlining it. “You’re not.”

“I… kind of am,” Parker said, setting off another chuckle. It was kind of funny, if you really thought about it. “At least, I was.” 

“Parker.”  

“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling through the tears. “It isn’t permanent.” 

“What?” 

“You survived, didn’t you?” Parker asked. 

“Survived what?” Jarod asked in a small voice. 

Parker felt a thrill of alarm at his tone. It was a warning, but the logical fear had jumped the track to giddy excitement. The whole situation was hilarious. It was impossible. It was real. She’d fucking switched worlds.

“When they killed you,” she said.

The car swerved, and Parker braced herself against the door. Someone honked behind them.

Jarod looked like he was going to pass out. 

“Pull over,” Parker said. “Jarod, pull over.” 

The sharp tone broke through some of his shock and he was able to get them far enough off the highway to be safe. As soon as the car stopped his breath started coming quicker. Harsher.

“Jarod,” Parker said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Breathe slower. In and out, it’s okay. You can do it.”

He gasped and tightened his grip on the wheel. Parker tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. 

He jerked away. 

“Sorry,” Parker whispered, fully sobering from her delirium. Good job, Parker. It was obviously a traumatic memory, and she’d just sprung it on him while he was driving.

He keened through his next exhale. He looked over at her, lost as she was. His breath was still heaving, but at least it was deeper and slower than it had been before. He worked his lungs like rusty manual bellows.

She had no idea what he wanted. What she should do. 

He uncurled his fingers slowly and brought them to his shoulders. He hugged himself tightly, like he could somehow contain the feelings in his chest. Like he could hold his heart together with his hands. 

Parker… Parker knew that feeling. 

It was like looking at herself from the outside in. A mortifying self awareness courtesy of some good old fashioned projection. Only... it wasn't just projection was it? He'd lived through the same nightmares in the same haunted halls in the same unforgiving role. They'd both been put on a slab to die on the Centre's pleasure. She didn't need to step into his shoes to understand what he was feeling. She'd lived it.

Parker was and wasn't surprised by the empathy she felt. That it was this man that she felt it for was unsettling, but still... He was hurting the same way she was. He’d already pulled away from her once, though. It was possible she was the last person he wanted witnessing this. 

Being alone would be worse, she thought. 

She unbuckled her belt and got out. 

“Parker, no,” Jarod called after her. “Please stay, I’m sorry. Don’t go.” 

Parker wasn’t going anywhere. She walked around to the driver’s side and opened it. Jarod was uncharacteristically slow on the uptake. He stared at her for a long moment before fumbling with his belt release. He stumbled out of the car; either lightheaded or numb. Or both.

Parker caught him in her arms. He folded around her completely, and Parker braced against his weight. He tucked his head into her neck. She held him tightly, arms circling around his back.

“‘M sorry,” he was mumbling. “I’m sorry. I should… I can’t- Please stay.” 

“I’m here,” Parker said. “It’s ok, I’m here.” 

He shook in her arms. His breath stuttered around silent sobs. 

“It’s ok,” Parker said. “I’ve got you. You’re ok.” 

Jarod cried like broken glass, sharp and painful. It came out as coughing, as cut off keening, as hiccups. He shuddered through it like a fever.

Parker didn’t pay attention to the words she said. She just talked. It didn’t really matter, so long as her voice was kind. The most important thing was that she was there, and that she understood. 

They both knew the professional distance Sydney kept. The distance they had to maintain from everyone, lest they get hurt. The cruel distance her mother maintained, for…

There were reasons. Parker didn’t bother using them to justify it to herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the hundredth time. 

“Don’t be sorry, just breathe,” Parker said. “I don’t need anything from you. I’m here, ok? Right now you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Jarod was exhausting himself. He still occasionally shivered, but it was slowing. She could feel him start to loosen his hold, only to notice and tense back up. He was afraid to let go. Afraid she would let go.

“I won’t let go until you’re ready,” Parker said. “You can relax.” 

He dropped his arms to his sides and leaned more heavily on her. He just breathed, and she held him up. 

He was heavy. It got harder to keep her promise as time went on, but she remained steady.

Long before she expected it, he leaned back. His hands came up to squeeze her shoulders, like he was afraid to lose contact even when he needed some space. His face was blotchy with tears.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, his voice thick. “We’re too close.” 

Too close to their last sighting. Too close to the Centre. Too close to the highway. 

Parker nodded. “I might know a place, if it exists on this side.” 

Jarod nodded and held the driver’s door open for her.

Chapter Text

The road to White Cloud lake was a peaceful one.

“Sydney’s cabin?” Jarod asked. “Really?” 

“Nobody ever expects it,” Parker said. “Not even you.”

“Because it’s too risky,” Jarod said. “Sydney’s cabin?”

Parker rolled her eyes. “What’s he going to do, tell on me?” 

Jarod stared at her, wide eyed. “Yes!”

Parker frowned. “He already feels too guilty. Besides, you know how strict they are about vacations. I can’t believe you’ve never used it.” 

“I can’t believe you have!”

“I like to think of it as…” Parker grinned wryly. “A family cabin.” 

Jarod chuckled. “That is twisted. I can’t believe you can sleep there.”

“You can hear a car coming all the way from the road,” Parker said. “It’s not like I sleep well anyway.”

Neither of them did. It had been better at the hotel with them to switch sleeping in shifts to keep watch.

“There is that,” Jarod agreed under his breath. “What if he comes up for the weekend?” 

“It’s Tuesday,” Parker said. 

“But-” 

“Jarod, relax.” Parker could not believe the words coming out of her mouth. “Who’s going to catch you? Me?” 

Jarod closed his mouth and sat back. “I don’t like it.” 

“There’s no paper trail. It’s remote. I know where to hide the car, and it’s easy to hide ourselves if we hear someone coming,” Parker said. “I’ve done this before, and not even you- um. Not even he caught on.” 

“You give me too much credit,” Jarod said. 

“Look, you wanted to talk. Figure out what’s going on,” Parker said.

Jarod’s hands tightened around the seat belt. 

“It’s quiet. No neighbours. We know the owner,” Parker said, ticking the points off her fingers.

“That’s the part that worries me,” Jarod said. 

“Does it really?” Parker asked. 

They pulled into view of the cabin. Trees rustled as an idyllic backdrop to the rustic log house. It was as close as she’d ever gotten to home, after her mother’s betrayal. 

“He’s an old man, Jarod,” Parker said. “He’s not what he used to be. There’s nothing to be scared of, unless he’s a bodybuilder or marksman in this universe or something.”

Jarod cleared his throat and looked out the window. Parker pulled the car around and under some low hanging branches. 

She killed the engine. 

“I’m not… I’m not scared,” Jarod said in a low voice. 

“Alright,” she said. Who was she to tell him his business?

“The last time I was here…”

Parker waited, pushing down her eagerness to get out of the car and smell the familiar forest. To let her heels sink into forgiving earth. To wrap herself in blankets near the fire.

Jarod sighed. “His brother died. He buried him here. It was…” 

Brother? Sydney’s brother? He couldn’t mean Jacob. He couldn’t.

Could he?

“It was my fault.” Jarod said. “If I’d just… I don’t know. It’s… I don’t think it’s right for me to be here.”

Parker cleared her throat. If it was anything like her world, it was his fault. Jarod had found out Jacob’s part in taking him from his family and…

Well.

She had a hard time envisioning this man even considering that. Maybe she was wrong about him.

It didn’t feel like it, though. 

“You killed him?” she asked.

Jarod’s breath hitched. “I…” 

“What happened?”

“He was in a coma,” Jarod said. He swallowed a few times. “I tried to find a way to bring him out of it. The drug worked, for a while, but it was too hard on the body. He… well, it killed him, in the end.” 

Parker snorted and Jarod shot her an injured look. “Jarod, oh my god,” she said. “When you said it was your fault, I thought you intended to kill him. A bad reaction to medicine? That’s not your fault.” 

Parker thought about it for a moment.

“Unless… you were the one who put him in a coma…?” 

“No!” Jarod sounded scandalized. “Why would you-?”

“The Jarod I knew wasn’t so forgiving. If anyone should feel guilty about Jacob, it’s him.” 

“He… killed him?” Jarod asked in a small voice.

“Jacob probably shouldn’t have been stealing children,” Parker said. 

“Oh,” Jarod said. “That.” 

He said it like he’d forgotten, not like he didn’t know, or it hadn’t happened. 

He said it like he’d forgiven.

Parker shook her head. “I can’t say I’m terribly torn up about the whole business, but I’m also not going to bring it up to Sydney.” 

“But you’ll stay in his cabin,” Jarod said.

“He owes me, Jarod,” Parker said as lightly as she could. “Just like he owes you.” 

“Right,” Jarod said. “Okay.” 

She gave him a moment to let him pretend to believe his own words. 

Jarod took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Right,” he said again. He got out of the car swiftly.

Parker followed along at a more sedate pace. The smells and sounds of the forest filled her with peace, loosening the stress from the past few days… past few weeks. 

They didn’t have a lot of luggage. She only had what she’d taken from her mother’s house. Jarod appeared to travel light as well. Their groceries dwarfed their personal effects.

“Do you really need five bags of large marshmallows?” Parker asked.

Jarod cracked a smile, a pale version of the delight he’d shown in the store. “You said ‘rustic camping’. The man at the store said I’d need marshmallows.” 

“His job is to sell you things,” Parker said. “I guess we’ll have to hope there’s enough dry wood for a fire.”

“Fire?” Jarod asked, loading the marshmallows on top of the box of condensed milk and soup.

“For… roasting the marshmallows?” Parker blinked at his guileless expression. “You weren’t just going to eat them raw, were you?” 

“Marshmallows are good,” he said. “I’ve never tried cooking them over a fire.”

“Then you’re in for a treat,” Parker said. “I’m an expert.”

Jarod’s smile was more genuine after that.

Sydney’s cabin wasn’t quite like she remembered it. Of course, back home she had made changes. It was missing the blankets and minor improvements she brought as a sort of thank you for the use of the cabin. 

Not that she needed to thank Sydney. It just felt right.

The bones of it were the same. The same smell of sunbleached wood, residual smoke and wool. She opened the windows, even though it was still chilly, to air some of the staleness out. Jarod followed her lead, practically tripping on her heels as she shook out blankets and swept out the spiders. 

She tasked him with dinner to get him out of her way.

The cabin hadn’t seen use in a while. She automatically started compiling a checklist of minor repairs and improvements before realizing she didn’t care. 

This was all temporary.

It had taken a few days for her to believe this was actually real, but now that she did?

She only had a week. 

A business week? Seven days? Jarod hadn’t specified. The deadline loomed like a death sentence (hah). 

After which… this Jarod would be left with his old chum. The one who had chained him to a fence.

Parker grit her teeth against the guilt. It wasn’t hers to bear. It wasn’t. But she’d burned the better part of three days with her paranoia, and Jarod deserved to know the truth. 

Maybe…

Maybe after dinner.

They would be in a better mood after food.

Parker finished prepping the second bed and changed into something she could actually move in. Purloining a blanket for her shoulders, she wandered back down the stairs. Something smelled amazing, and Parker had no idea how Jarod was cooking something that smelled like that from the canned food they’d bought. 

“What is it?” she asked, wrapping herself tighter in the quilt.

Jarod did a double take when he saw her. “What are you wearing?” 

Parker backed up to the door frame, suddenly self conscious. She’d fallen back on old habits and relaxed. Without the tight structured clothes she felt like herself again, more or less. This was… this was supposed to be a safe place and she’d forgotten who she was with.

“Parker, wait, it’s fine,” he said. “I’m not judging, you just look…” 

Parker glared at him, daring him to finish his sentence.

“...comfortable,” he said. “You look really comfortable. And she never- I never saw…” 

Ah. A discrepancy between her and her counterpart. Parker wandered back into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. “I was cold,” she said.

“You opened all the windows,” Jarod said.

“It needs to be aired out,” Parker said. “Sydney hasn’t been here for a while.”

Jarod’s shoulders stiffened.

“Sorry,” Parker grumbled.

“It’s fine,” Jarod said. “God, it’s weird to hear you- to hear her voice apologize. To me,” he chuckled. 

Well, don’t get used to it, she’ll be back soon enough. Parker, however, had no intention of ruining dinner. “How the hell did you get the canned chili to smell so damn good?” 

“Trade secret,” he winked. Beside him on the counter were various bags of spices. He threw a towel over it when he saw her looking. “Just try it.” 

He scooped out a bowl and handed it over. Parker took a bite of it before he could add the toppings. 

“This can’t be from a can,” she said. 

“It’s better with all the extras,” he said. 

“You have to teach me how to make it,” Parker said. Suddenly, she was desperate to know. If all she could bring back was knowledge, she wanted to know everything. How he escaped, how he evaded his hunters… 

How to make canned chili a meal worth savouring.

There wasn’t enough time, and she’d wasted three days being belligerent. She was just so tired. What good would any of that knowledge do her now? 

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled. “I didn’t actually do that much to it.”

“You’re a liar,” Parker said. She scooped the toppings onto her bowl and drifted to the front of the cabin. The best feature of this place was the long veranda looking out into the woods. You could see and hear everything from there. The beauty, and the danger.

Jarod shortly joined her with his own bowl, a blanket around his shoulders as well.

“It’s cold,” he said to her raised eyebrow.

Parker smiled into her bowl. “Who taught you this recipe?” 

Jarod sighed. “There was a while there where I was obsessed with sleeping outside,” he said.

“Yeah,” Parker said. “Yeah…” It hadn’t taken her long to tire of sleeping rough, but the novelty had been undeniable.

“My favourite was working on a ranch as a cowboy,” Jarod said. “We were just… out. All the time. Sun, rain, fog, stars… you saw everything.”

“You like horses?” Parker asked. 

“And cows,” he said. “And the dogs. But the best was probably the people.” 

Most of Parker’s experiences with cowboys was being on the wrong side of a gun. “Oh?” 

“Some are rough,” he said with a nod to her. “But when you’re out, you work as a team. To be able to depend on people like that…” 

“It’s like you’re not alone,” Parker said.

“Exactly,” Jarod nodded. “That, and they can get creative with shelf-stable food. I learned a lot.” 

“But not about roasting marshmallows,” Parker said. 

“There were gaps in my education,” he agreed.

“Mm,” Parker hummed, focusing on her dinner. The sunlight was fading to orange, in that vivid moment before the sleepy blues and purples of dusk. Birds sang, their voices filtered by the acoustics of the trees. It was cool enough that she only saw the odd lazy mosquito floating through the golden air.

God, she’d miss this.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Jarod asked.

A spike of guilt needled her stomach. “Talk about what?”

“The difference in our memories,” he said. “The…” he trailed off, one hand floating like he could shape the word out of the air.

He couldn’t even say it. How were they going to talk about it?

“Jarod, please don’t ruin the best meal I’ve had in… I don’t even know how long.” 

“Is there any way to bring her back?” he said.

Parker felt suddenly cold, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “You… want her back?”

“You’re not the Parker I know,” he said. “You’re displaced from your own world, you don’t belong here.”

“No,” Parker said, anger coiling over the prickles of fear.

“If you’re here, where is she?” he asked. “Is she… will she be okay?” 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Parker asked, a harsh chuckle rumbling after her words. “You’re worried about her?”

Parker felt a sting of betrayal. She’d trade the Jarod she knew for this one any day of the week. She had thought he’d felt the same.

She thought they’d understood each other. 

She had thought that maybe they were friends.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “Just as I’m worried about you.”

“Do you have any idea what happens to me when you get her back?” Parker asked. She hated the tears she felt burning behind her eyes. “Any idea at all?” 

“I-”

“I go back,” Parker growled. “I go back to him and the concrete and my mother and Sydney-” she gasped and bit the side of her hand to stem the angry flow of words. 

To stem the fear from turning her insides out. 

Jarod’s face echoed the grief she felt, but it was only a mask. A reflection of her feelings. “Oh,” he said. “No, no no, I-” 

“You couldn’t even give me a day?” Parker asked, fingers still pressing to her lips. “One moment of peace before asking me to go back to that?”

“I didn’t mean-” 

“But you want her back. Even though she hates you,” Parker said.

“Parker is… our relationship is difficult, but she doesn’t hate me,” he said.

“Then why is she hunting you?” Parker asked.

“Parker is just as trapped as I am, in a way,” Jarod said. “By her past, by her father… by the Centre.” 

“Those are excuses,” Parker said.

“They’re circumstances,” Jarod said.

“It’s not fair,” Parker said. “How can you still see the good in her? How can you possibly see the good in her while she hunts you down?” 

How could you throw me to the wolves in favor of your enemy?

She had thought he understood. He was probably the only one who could, but it was like she was spare parts; only useful so long as the original was missing. Parker tried to swallow around the ache in her throat. 

“There has to be another way,” Jarod said. “You shouldn’t have to go back. We’ll find a way.” 

“You know that’s impossible,” Parker said. “This isn’t my body. We have to switch. One or the other, her or me.” 

“I don’t know anything,” Jarod said. “I still don’t even know what this is.” 

“You had two years to figure it out,” Parker said viciously. “After they did it to you.” 

Low blow, but Parker wasn’t feeling particularly magnanimous. He needed to remember that his own worst nightmares were her reality. 

Jarod went grey, but didn’t tremble. Didn’t waver. “I don’t remember it. How could I do anything about it?” 

“You remember enough to be scared,” Parker said.

“It’s just one more nightmare,” Jarod said, angrily snapping his consonants. “If what you told me is true, you should know what it’s like better than anyone.”

“I’m not you!” Parker snapped. “It took him two weeks to reverse engineer what happened and make it my problem!”

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your expectations!” Jarod shouted.

The forest quieted at his volume, and they both froze, listening for the tread of tires, or footsteps. Parker’s heart beat in her throat, and she watched Jarod’s rapid pulse at his.

Parker suddenly felt aware of how exposed they were. It was too open here, they were too distracted. Arguing was dangerous.

Useless.

Painful.

“I’m going to bed,” Parker said.

“Parker, wait.”

“You can take the first watch,” Parker said, not meeting his eyes. “In the morning we’ll-” she sighed, the release of fear draining her remaining energy. “It doesn’t matter. Wake me in four hours.”

She didn’t look back as she went into the cabin. 

Chapter Text

Parker awoke to sunlight filtering through her window. 

Awareness came gradually. The sun always helped with the disorientation. It meant she was still safe.

She recognized the cabin walls next. Sydney’s cabin. She was in her bed…

But not her bed. 

Parker pulled the covers over her head with a groan. Emotions and memories arranged themselves sluggishly, hitting the bruise of her psyche.

Last night they’d argued. 

This was day four. 

She either went back tomorrow, or three days from now. 

Jarod hadn’t woken her up.

Parker was on her feet instantly. She walked silently on the balls of her feet, adrenaline more effective than coffee for its restorative properties. The creak of the door seemed deafening as she pushed it open.

She could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. 

Jarod stood at the stove, an echo of yesterday evening. Parker watched him work, trying to gather the courage to announce herself. To say something.

Jarod turned and froze when he saw her. 

They stood in tableau for a minor eternity, the air weighted between them with everything they had said.

Everything they hadn’t.

“You didn’t wake me up,” Parker said.

“I couldn't sleep,” Jarod said. His eyes looked dark, the wrinkles under them more pronounced. “One of us might as well get some rest.”

“We could have kept watch together,” Parker said.

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate that,” Jarod said. 

“You don’t know that,” Parker said. “You don’t know me.”

Jarod looked down at the counter. “Right.” 

Parker slid over to the dining table and sat, folding her feet up onto the chair to keep them off the cool floor. “And I don’t really know you,” she said. 

He looked at her, eyes dark and sorrowful. “Do you want to? Even though I want-”

“Don’t,” Parker said. “This day is… Just give me one day. One day where I can pretend everything is ok.” 

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “That’s a heck of a pretend.” 

Parker dropped her chin onto her knees. “We can light a fire tonight. Roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories.” 

Jarod turned back to the stove. Pancakes, it looked like. “I’ll pass on the ghost stories.” 

“What kind of stories should we tell?”

“Good ones,” Jarod said.

“I’m afraid I don’t have too many of those,” Parker said.

“What about your father?” 

“What about him?” 

“He sounds like he loves and cares for you, over there. You must have happy memories,” Jarod said. 

“Bittersweet,” Parker said. “Most of it I only learned after the fact. Security recordings of him trying to get me out. Transcripts of him arguing for my release. Letters…” 

Parker sniffed, hiding her nose under her hand. 

“We were so close, one time,” Parker said. “We were in the same city. Somehow he figured it out, and put a message to me in the newspaper. We met in a cafe and…” Parker hugged her knees tightly to her chest. “I barely brushed his hand before-” she flicked her eyes up at Jarod. “-before they showed up. We split up. He distracted them.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jarod said. “I… know what it is, to be so close and have it taken away again.” 

Parker laughed bitterly. She knew the reverse of this script. “I’m sure you do. And by me, I bet.” 

“No, not you,” Jarod said. He’d pulled the pan off the fire and wandered over. For a moment, she thought he was going to put a hand on her shoulder. 

Instead he crouched down in front of her. 

“You didn't deserve any of it,” he said. 

“Why is it so unfair?” she asked, feeling ten years old all over again. 

“I don’t know,” Jarod said. “But if there’s any way I can fix it, I will.” 

Parker closed her eyes against the earnestness in his face. He was too honest. Too kind.

What the hell had screwed up her version of him so badly? 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Parker said.

“I can promise to try,” he said.

“You will choose her in the end,” Parker said. 

“There’s rarely only two answers,” Jarod said. 

He hadn’t denied it.

Parker breathed through the grief and the anger, tightening her eyes against tears. “I don’t-” her voice was too weak. Too watery. She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to spend today being sad.” 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Let’s pretend everything is fine, just for today.” 

Parker nodded, forcing her shoulders down and out of their protective huddle. She breathed carefully, setting her concerns aside.

No matter what the timeline, she had today. She had now. She had this. 

True to his word, Jarod dropped all mention of ‘setting things right’ and jumped in with both feet to make the most of ‘rustic’ camping.

Literally.

“Jarod!” Parker shrieked, backing off from the thrashing water where he’d jumped in the lake. “It’s freezing!” 

“It’s b-b-bracing,” he chattered as soon he caught his breath. He smiled from where he was treading water, even though she could see how tight his jaw was clenched.

“Do not get any on me,” Parker said.

“What’s wrong, Parker?” he asked. “You don’t want to go for a swim?” 

The gleam in his eye had Parker running up the embankment at triple speed. Jarod’s laughter chased her.

They spent a leisurely morning exploring the surrounding woods, picking out trees that could come down to replace the firewood they planned to use. Parker showed him the first tree she’d ever climbed, and he showed her Jacob’s grave.

He ate marshmallow peanut butter sandwiches and she ate something reasonable.

With chocolate.

The weather remained perfect, though slightly cold.

“I like the cold,” Parker commented as they took a moment to resupply at the cabin. 

“Is that why you’re wearing three blankets?” 

“That’s why I like it,” Parker said. “Fires, blankets, hot drinks… everything is better with cold fresh air.” 

Jarod blinked and nodded. “I never thought of it that way.” 

“Contrast makes things interesting,” Parker said.

Jarod opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. He gave her a false closed lip smile. “That it does,” he said.

Parker sidestepped her bitter thoughts. “Does it not bother you?”

“Does what?”

“The cold,” Parker said. “You swam in the lake, and you’re wearing a T-shirt now.” 

Jarod looked down at himself like he’d forgotten. “I guess not?” 

“It’s not fair,” Parker grumbled. 

Jarod smiled, a more genuine one this time. “You just said you liked the cold.”

“I’m sure it would be better if I had it as easy as you,” Parker said.

“Then let me help,” he said, and he caught her visible hand between his own. 

Parker froze.

“Your hands are so cold,” he said, with mild surprise. “Even with three blankets.” 

His hands were incredibly warm. Parker forced herself to breathe evenly. 

This was fine. 

It wasn’t him. All the skin crawling, internal screaming, danger-bell-alarms were quiet in her head. Even though Jarod had taken her hand uninvited, she was fine.

The problem was, it was a little too ‘fine’. The heat of his hands was all-encompassing. The frisson of his fingers curling into her palm was electric. What the hell was wrong with her? She hadn’t been so sensitive yesterday. What had changed?

“Your hands are warm,” she said.

He must have heard something in her voice. He dropped her hand immediately. “Sorry.” 

Parker curled her hand inside the blankets, her nerves still singing from the contact. “I just didn’t expect it. It’s fine.” 

“I won’t do it again,” he promised.

Do it again! Parker ignored her inner voice and nodded. She only had a day, no use making this harder on herself. 

They worked in the afternoon. Jarod cut down a tree with Parker’s direction, and they made short work of the trunk. Parker took a strange glee in the blisters on her hands.

Figure that one out, other Parker. 

Parker had a brief flash of fear about what the other was doing with her body. 

Well. It was unlikely Jarod would let her out to buy a pack of cigarettes. 

Or maybe he would. Parker could never tell, with him. 

“Show me how to make the chili,” Parker demanded after they’d cleaned up.

“You want chili again?”

“I want the recipe,” Parker said.

“I’ll show you something better,” Jarod said.

‘Better’ was an unholy concoction of soup, beans, crackers, spices and cheese.

“This has no right to taste this good,” Parker growled at her soup.

“It’s better with fresh bread,” Jarod said. “But I haven’t quite got the hang of the wood oven.” 

They exchanged stories as they prepared the fire for the evening. Jarod was cagey about how he managed to get out of the Centre proper, but generous with his stories of evasion on the run.

Parker took whatever crumbs of wisdom she could get, hoping she would have an opportunity to use them.

They lit the fire outdoors before the sun went down. Parker had argued for a big one, so as to make better coals for cooking. She whittled away points on a couple sticks while Jarod arranged chairs and blankets.

As dusk fell, their world shrunk to the limits of the firelight. 

“I’ve missed this,” Jarod said, staring at the fire. He poked at the fire, collapsing a log and making the flame shoot up.

“Which part?” Parket asked, warming her hands around a cup of tea.

“Camp fires,” he said. “Living in the moment, and not trying to be twenty steps ahead.”

“I told you Sydney’s cabin was great,” Parker said.

Jarod winced. “I keep trying to forget about that part.” 

“It’s Wednesday,” Parker said. “We’re fine.” 

“It still feels unsettling,” Jarod said. 

“As unsettling as sitting across from your enemy?” Parker asked.

Jarod closed his eyes, the firelight casting a gentle glow over his features. “I’d like to think… this is what it could be like. If things were different. In another life, we could be friends.” 

He looked at her.

Parker didn’t have the heart to hold onto her bitter jealousy. This moment was for her, as much as him. “I would like that,” she said.

Jarod blew out his breath.

“And I know it’s not me you want to hear that from,” Parker said quietly. 

“It’s good to hear it from you,” Jarod said, matching her tone. “Can we be friends? You and I?” 

“I thought we already were.” 

“You’re mad at me,” Jarod said. “Scared.”

“I’m sad,” Parker said. “Sad and jealous.”

The fire always made it easier to admit difficult things.

“Oh,” Jarod said. 

“I wish…” Parker looked up at the tree canopy to the patch of starry sky. 

“What do you wish?” he asked when she stayed silent for too long.

“I wish I could-” stay, she didn’t say. She wasn’t interested in rehashing the argument. Instead, she crouched further into her blankets. 

“What?” 

“I wish I could bring my father here,” she said. “Spend time with him, like this.” 

That was one thing worth returning to her world for. The people she loved.

“Me too,” Jarod said, smiling softly. “I always wondered what it would be like, travelling with family. To go somewhere, rather than away.”

“Do you know your father?” Parker asked.

“It’s complicated,” Jarod sighed. “I have a name, and a photo of my mother.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a photograph, offering it to her. “But recently… I don’t even know if they’re really my parents.”

Parker took the photo of the smiling woman. “Why wouldn't they be?”

“The Centre is fond of making things complicated,” Jarod said. “But…” 

Parker handed the photo back. 

He frowned at her. “You don’t… recognize her?”

“Should I?” 

“She’s my mother,” he said. “She’s Jarod’s mother.” 

“So?”

“She was Catherine Parker’s friend,” Jarod said. “If she succeeded in getting me out… shouldn’t… shouldn’t he know her? Shouldn’t she be part of his life?”

Parker tried to imagine the other Jarod, sycophant of her mother, making space in his life for family. His single minded focus on Parker. On her mother. On the work they did at the Centre.

It occurred to her that the Jarod she knew led a profoundly lonely life.

“I don’t know,” Parker said. “He always seemed… jealous? Of my family. Of me, though it never made any sense.”

“Oh,” Jarod said, leaning back. “That- oh.” 

“What?” 

“Do you know,” he said. “How similar you are to her?” 

“To who?”

“To the Parker I know.” 

“I’m nothing like her,” Parker said. 

If I was, you wouldn’t need her back.

“Your edges aren’t as sharp,” he said. “You’re not as proud.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m not trying to insult you. You’re your own person, but I can see her in you,” he said. 

“You can see my face.”  

“Your kindness,” he said. “Your values. You’re more in touch with these things, but they’re similar to hers.”

Parker sighed. He sounded smitten. Or delusional. Or both. Did he forget who was chasing him down? “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“That’s not- no. What I’m trying to say is that perhaps our worlds aren’t so different. Just our circumstances,” he said.

“No shit,” Parker said. 

“What if- what if the Jarod you know isn’t so different from me,” Jarod said. “Lost his way.”

Parker froze. “No,” she said. “Just. No.”

“If-” 

“Jarod, drop it,” Parker said through her teeth.

“We don’t have to be enemies,” Jarod said. “Please, just-” 

“If you had any idea of what the man you are arguing on behalf of has done, you’d apologize for even thinking that,” she said. “And if you keep pressing, I’ll tell you everything.”

“That’s a threat?” 

“If he is you, an actual version of you and not some completely different soul, you’d crawl out of your own skin,” Parker said. “Please. Drop it.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to-” 

“You were just trying to help. I know,” she said. Parker sighed. There was a reason he didn’t want to tell ghost stories in the dark. Their upbringing had a way of making everything a little too real. The things he wanted to know would be worse. He still didn't understand what she meant, though. She didn't think he would be able to without something more concrete. “You ever pretend to be a serial killer before?” 

Jarod stilled. His eyes drifted out of focus as he stared somewhere past the fire. He nodded. 

If just the idea of it bothered him…

“Jarod loves them,” she said. “He used to assign me his favourite. We’d pour over profiles and pick out-” 

“Stop,” Jarod said hoarsely. “Please stop.” 

Parker shut her jaw, feeling more guilty than satisfied with his understanding. “I’m done.” 

“I didn’t know,” he said. 

“I know.” 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said. She could see the layers of understanding unfurl over his face. He was built to imagine things, and what she had just suggested would take him down some dark roads.

That it could have been him. 

What it meant for her.

What it meant that she was going back. 

“I’ll find a way,” Jarod said. 

Parker let him believe his own hopeless promise. She was already lost, he just didn’t know it yet. “Can we just roast the damn marshmallows?”

“We need to talk about this,” Jarod said. 

“No, we don’t,” Parker said.

“Why are you shutting this down so hard? What’s wrong with even talking about possible solutions?” he demanded.

Hope. That was the problem. “Just give me this,” Parker said. “Just one good day.”

“We can’t avoid it forever.” 

“In the morning,” Parker said. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning.” 

He met her eyes, and she knew he knew she was lying. But this Jarod was kind. This Jarod was selfless. This Jarod was generous. 

“Okay,” he said, blowing out a breath. “Pass me the bag?” 

Parker passed him one marshmallow.

“That’s it?” 

Parker shrugged. “Start with one.”

Jarod carefully threaded the marshmallow onto his sharpened stick. He spun it gently, noting the irregularity of the twig. He found an angle to the fire that wasn’t blowing smoke in his face and attempted his first marshmallow roasting.

“Is it supposed to catch on fire that quickly?”

.

.

.

..

…

The next day, Parker left before the sun rose.

Chapter Text

In the end, Parker had no idea whether Jarod had meant five days or seven, because the bender she went on warped both space and time. 

She wasn’t the one who was going to wake up with that well deserved headache. 

She couldn’t remember if she had alerted one of Sydney’s distant neighbours to Jarod being stranded or not. Oh well, he was a smart boy, he’d figure it out. Meanwhile, Parker had only needed to give him as much of a head start as she possibly could. It was the least she could do to make up for her dishonesty.

For stranding him in a place he was distinctly uncomfortable.

Maybe she wouldn’t have made such a good friend after all. 

In the end, it didn’t matter. He got his Parker back.

In the end, she went home.

The transition point was unclear. The last thing she remembered was a sunny poolside deck with efficient bar service. 

The next, she woke up screaming. 

Small mercies, she wasn’t restrained. She managed to roll off the side of the bed before vomiting a breakfast she didn’t remember having. Her head split like she’d carried her hangover through the void with her.

“Someone’s finally awake,” a cheery voice commented. Jarod, but not Jarod. 

The alarm bells were back at twice the volume. The cognitive dissonance between that face and that grin was nauseating. 

Or maybe it was the booze.

“Have a pleasant break?” he asked, coming to crouch beside her.

To lay a hand on her hair.

She couldn’t control the tremors that started in her shoulders.

His fingers closed into a fist around the strands, anchoring her in place as effectively as any iron band.

“You’ve had a bit of a tough week,” he said. His voice should be soothing. His tone, pitch and rhythm were perfect. Bedside manner: masterclass.

Not a single cell in her body could forget who he was.

“I told you it was temporary,” Jarod said. “Seven days, down to the minute. I thought you’d appreciate punctuality.” 

“I-” Parker’s throat was dry and stung from stomach acid. The smell didn’t help. She didn’t dare move a millimetre.  

“Oh, we should get you cleaned up, shouldn’t we?” Jarod asked, making no move to let her up. 

Parker knew the instant she showed a reaction, things would get worse.

If she didn’t, things would still probably get worse, but there was the slightest chance he would lose interest. Like a cat giving up on a cricket that didn’t sing.

“How was it?” Jarod asked. “Did you meet other me?”

Parker swallowed. Jarod didn’t really need her to answer. To him, she was an open book.

Jarod chuckled. “I met other you,” he said. “And let me tell you, she was a firecracker.”

Oh no.

“For someone who wasn’t raised as a pretender, she slipped from one personality to the next like a natural. She wanted to kill me, she wanted to join me, she wanted to kill me, she wanted to make a deal, she wanted to kill me again. Actually, the ‘wanted to kill me’ part was probably her core personality. It came up a lot,” Jarod said.

“I can’t help but notice you’re still alive,” Parker rasped. 

“It was fun,” Jarod said. “It’s a shame. In contrast to her, you’re practically docile.” 

“I can give ‘wanting to kill you’ a try,” Parker said.

“Promises, promises,” Jarod said. He loosened the hold he had on her hair. “Maybe some other time. Get up, you’ve got a client.” 

And just like that, things were back to normal. 

“Miss Parker, focus on the recordings,” Sydney said. 

Parker looked up at him. Today he moved like an old man. They hadn’t talked about it, but Parker could see the after effects of the Centre’s displeasure. Sydney’s shirt collar was higher than usual, and he spoke with no pleasantries. His eyes were hollow. Haunted.

He hadn’t smiled since she got back.

Not even falsely.

“Do you know if there’s a Mr. Broots who works out of this office?” she asked. She regretted it immediately. It was only idle curiosity, but…

Sydney blinked. She could see the wheels turning in his head, and the moment he decided not to take the bait.

“Is the prisoner lying?” Sydney asked, turning her chair to once more look at the video feed. “Is he unsettled? What is he feeling?” 

Parker watched the man on the TV. His arms were crossed and he leaned away from the table. Subconsciously, Parker mirrored him. 

Beside her, Sydney’s shoulders relaxed. 

“He works in IT,” Parker said, borrowing strength from the belligerence of the man she was mimicking. “Shifty fellow, probably smiles easily and laughs when he’s nervous.”

“What does he want?” Sydney asked, tapping the glass of the monitor.

“Broots?” Parker asked guilelessly. 

Sydney gave her the first look of impatience. “You know very well I don’t mean ‘Broots’.”

Parker flicked her gaze back to the television. “He doesn’t want anything,” she said. “He just needs to beat out the clock.” 

“What is he waiting for?” 

Parker tapped her elbow. “You could look him up,” Parker said. “You wouldn’t even have to ask anyone, just look at the directory.” 

Sydney sighed. “What is he waiting for, Parker?” 

“What else? Someone to save him,” Parker said. “It doesn’t really matter who, does it?”

“It might, if it will get him to talk,” Sydney said. “How is he feeling?” 

“Smug. Confident. Annoyed,” Parker said. “What was Jarod like, back when he was a kid?” 

Sydney’s hand slipped against the desk. “What brought this on?”

“Curiosity,” Parker said. “The other one was different. He grew up with you as a mentor.”

She could see Sydney wrestle with himself. Jarod was as much a weak spot for him as he was for her, if for different reasons. Sydney took a few controlling breaths. “How do we get him to talk?” he asked, trying to keep them on task. Jarod must have really done a number on him.

“I think the problem is getting him to stop,” Parker said, deliberately misunderstanding. 

Sydney frowned.

Parker loosened her arms and scrubbed at her face. Sydney would be completely unhelpful until she finished her assignment. “Look, the suspect is confident he’s ‘sticking it to the man’, right? All he has to do is wait it out and he’s off scott free. If he were made to feel more powerful, or feel disregarded, he’d lose the role he’s playing.” 

“And how would we do that?” Sydney asked. 

Parker rolled her eyes. “Make him think more time has passed. Suddenly offer more apologies and creature comforts. Have the interviewer look unsettled. Or,” Parker paused, leaning forward to look at the bored man sitting in the interrogation room. “Tell him you made a mistake, picking him up. That you found the real culprit while he was cooling his heels. Then follow him.” 

Parker leaned back. “Does that agree with his highness's assessment?” she said, projecting her voice up at the ceiling. 

The speakers crackled to life. “I’m not always watching, you know,” Jarod said.

“Like hell,” Parket muttered. “Well? Good enough?” 

“You barely stepped into his shoes at all,” Jarod said. “If you want more autonomy, you will need to prove you’re taking your job seriously, Parker.” 

Parker laughed. “What’s autonomy?” 

“We don’t need to be enemies, Parker,” he said.

And, like every time before, Parker felt a lance of grief. Jarod had ferreted out that little landmine a couple days into her return, and wasn’t tired of it yet. “Go to hell.” 

“Will do,” Jarod said cheerfully. “And Sydney? Try to remember who pays your bills, hm?”

The speaker cut out and Parker slumped. 

Sydney wouldn’t look at her. 

It was weird seeing him so off balance. So ground down. “He tried to save Jacob, over there,” Parker said.

Sydney looked at her, tightly controlled betrayal slipping at the edges of his mask. 

“He didn’t succeed,” Parker said. “But he got to bury Jacob himself.” 

Sydney turned from her, one hand covering his eyes. His shoulders shook minutely, and Parker…

Parker still felt no satisfaction.

When Parker woke, her mother was brushing her hair.

Her waking mind was caught between braining herself on the wall in an attempt to get away and leaning back into the nostalgic feeling. Instead, she froze, shivering at the onslaught of hard and soft feelings.

Tears dripped down to her pillow, unseen by her mother.

Catherine continued brushing, humming softly to herself. 

“Mommy?” Parker asked when the brushstrokes went from ‘soothing’ to ‘water drop torture’.

Catherine paused. Her hand followed the path the brush had tread, smoothing her hair further down. “Oh, my darling,” her mother said softly. “Where did we go so wrong?”

Parker did her level best not to crack her teeth with her clenched jaw.

Her mother put the brush down. The rustle of fabric was the only indication that she was getting up.

Parker waited for the clack of heels, but there were none. 

When she finally summoned the courage to turn around, no one was there.

Jarod introduced an assignment on programming by bringing in a new man. The hairs on Parker’s neck raised at the awkward shuffling employee Jarod introduced as ‘Mr. Broots’.

“Um, hi, it’s nice to meet you, um…?” Broots said, his voice and cadence identical. 

Another constant?

“Parker,” Parker said warmly, smiling in a way that coaxed the man into an answering grin. “I look forward to working with you.”

The assignment was refreshingly straightforward: security updates for an existing infrastructure with minimal downtime.

Broots was so normal it hurt.

“And this is Debbie,” he said, showing her a school photo of a girl that couldn’t be older than twelve. “She’s my daughter.” 

Parker wanted to yell at him for bringing such an innocent face into the bowels of the Centre. Instead, she smiled. “She’s wonderful.” 

“Thanks,” Broots said, stuffing the photo back into his pocket. He looked furtive as he did so leading Parker to believe he wasn’t as guileless as he seemed. “I was wondering… I’ve worked here for a while, but I’ve never run into you before,” he said. “Are you- are you new?”

Parker wondered how long he’d worked here, to be asking questions like that.

“Recently returned from a sabbatical,” she said with a false smile.

“Oh,” Broots smiled, a brief twitch of his face. “That must be it. I don’t think I’d forget a face like yours.” 

Was he… flirting with her? 

Parker backed up a bit and put some distance between them. “That’s sweet,” she said. “But I’m kind of married to my job.” 

“Oh no, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re very beati- no, nevermind. Sorry,” Broots stumbled over his words. He kept his distance, lending weight to his apologies. “Look, can we just… forget it? I wasn’t trying to- It won’t happen again, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Parker said. It wasn’t lost on her that Jarod had brought her the very man she’d asked about. There was more to his presence here than assistance for a project, and Parker had a feeling it would be dangerous to get close. 

For her, and for Broots.

“Let’s get started shall we?”

Broots became a familiar sight in her sim lab. Even after his assistance with that one security contract, he found excuses to come see her. 

Every time he succeeded, Parker felt more dread at whatever game Jarod was playing.

“Miss Parker!” Broots came in the door. “Oh, hey Sydney. I wanted to get your opinion on the technical drawings for the next set of mainframes.” 

Parker was currently suspended upside down from a wrecked car by a seatbelt. 

She lifted her helmet visor. “Now, Broots?” she asked. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“I can, um… see that,” he said. 

“And why a mainframe? Shouldn’t we have binned those things ages ago?” she asked. 

The blood was rushing to her head, but she still wasn’t eager to lift the veil from Broots’ eyes. He was so heart-achingly normal, with a daughter he loved and drama with the night shift. His concerns were just so refreshingly simple. His presence was like an escape. 

Which was why it was very concerning Jarod still allowed him to find her.

“You’d think,” Broots said, scratching at his ear. “But it’s actually quite smart from a security point of view.” 

“Centralization,” Parker muttered. 

“Exactly! But I still think we could improve… Why are you in a car upside down?” Broots asked.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Parker said flippantly. 

Broots laughed. 

You poor sweet soul. 

“No, but really,” he said. 

“Really,” Parker said, deadpan. 

Broots’ face lost its mirth. “Uh… Syd?” 

“Yes, Mr. Broots?” Sydney said politely. 

“She doesn’t- I mean, she wouldn’t-” 

“Miss Parker takes her job very seriously,” Sydney said with a wry grin. 

“Not you too, Sydney,” Broots said. 

“I think that’s quite enough,” Jarod said, appearing like an apparition at the door. Parker hadn’t even noticed it open. “Mr. Broots, I believe you have someplace else to be?” 

“Yes, Mr… uh. I mean, Jarod. I’ll. Be going now,” Broots backed out of the doorway. Parker had no idea how he didn’t trip. 

“Nice fellow,” Jarod said, once the door had thumped closed. “A bit like a puppy.” 

“What do you want, Jarod?” Parker asked. 

“Oh, you know, just thought I’d drop by,” Jarod smiled. “See how the old team is holding up.” 

“If you’re looking for volunteers to retire, I’m all ears,” Parker said. 

Jarod laughed. “Oh Parker, no one retires anymore.” He walked underneath the car, mere feet away from her. 

It felt like the world narrowed down to a point. Parker was supremely aware how vulnerable she was in this position. 

How he could reach up and just… one push of a button. 

Or he could-

“You work,” he said softly. “Or you die.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Parker said. If all that was forcing her to work was a threat of a bullet in the brain, she might have taken the easy way out years ago. 

It wasn’t that simple.

“No,” Jarod agreed. “I’ve got a whole bag of incentive ideas, starting with your new friend.” 

Parker’s stomach defied gravity and dropped to her feet. “It’s not like you to give the shovel talk,” she said. 

“No?” Jarod asked. He reached up and nudged the car. It swung from where it was suspended from the crane. 

Parker felt seasick. “I kind of figured that one out myself. Why else would you let him down here?” 

“I guess that was a little predictable,” Jarod said. “But still effective, right?” 

Parker swallowed. She nodded. 

“What was that?” 

“Yes. Yes I understand,” Parker said. 

“Good,” Jarod said, patting her helmet. “Alright, people, back to work.” 

Every visit from Broots felt like another crack in the ice. 

He brought her vending machine snacks. 

He brought her coffee. 

He brought her gossip and entertainment from the outside. 

Parker stopped sleeping.

“Broots, I know you’re not stupid,” she said, as, once again, he traipsed into her lab with an armful of Funyuns. 

“Do you not like Funyuns?” he asked.

“Why do you say that like I threatened to shoot your dog?” Parker asked. 

“That’s an oddly specific threat,” Broots mused, dropping the bags on the desk. “I don’t even have a dog.” 

“Broots,” Parker tried again. “Why are you here?” 

Broots froze. Slowly he sank into the chair across from her. “Because, um,” Broots scratched at his chin. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” Nervously, he blew out his breath. 

“Take what the wrong way?” Parker demanded. 

Broots looked at her. Through her. “Well… I kind of didn’t have… a… choice?” 

Fuck. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Uh… I’m kinda not supposed to tell you?” he said. 

“Are you asking or telling me?” Parker said. 

Broots’ shoulders went up to his ears. “I do like spending time with you. I do.” 

“That’s not the issue.” 

“I know, I know,” Broots fidgeted with one of his vending machine treats.

Parker dropped her hand over his, stilling the action. “You have to know it’s dangerous here. Why haven’t you left yet?”

“Um. I…” 

He looked down at her hand, utterly distracted. 

She let go. 

Broots shook himself. 

“You can’t have missed the fact I’m not here voluntarily,” Parker said. “You have a daughter.”

“Parker,” Broots said. “I know- I can’t- but-” 

The power went out. 

Every light. 

Every humming transformer. 

Every fan. 

The emergency power made a valiant effort to kick in before shutting down again with one last pitiful wail. 

“Oh thank god,” Broots said, slumping in his seat. “That was fucking killing me. Come on, we need to move.” 

“What,” Parker said. 

Broots fumbled for a flashlight, handing her one once it was illuminated. “We need to go.”  

Parker allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. “What?” she asked again. 

Like she could possibly comprehend the answer. 

“Come on, come on, let’s go,” Broots said. “I know it’s kind of… um. Surprising? But we need to go.” 

“What about the security?” Parker asked, following on numb feet. There was no way they’d let something like an equipment malfunction let her slip away. “What about Jarod?”

“Oh, he’ll be along in, oh-” 

There was the clatter of a grate and Jarod unfolded himself from inside the vent

“Right about now,” Broots said. “Everything go alright on your end?” 

“Like clockwork,” Jarod smiled. 

“You were working together?” Parker asked breathlessly, shock freezing her lungs. She wasn’t going to survive this. Broots was in league with Jarod? It was… how? “But- I-”

“You didn’t explain?” Jarod asked.

Broots flailed at the vent. “I thought it was a little more important to get moving! I’ve had evil Jarod breathing down my back this whole time. He has to know someth-” 

“What do you mean, evil Jarod?” Parker asked. “You-” 

“Parker,” Jarod said. “It’s me, not him. Let me help you.”

Parker’s breath caught. She wasn’t supposed to see him again. The only way he could be here is if- This couldn’t be happening. How was he here? Who had sent him? 

And why was he working with Broots?

“How can I know it’s really you?” she whispered, terrible hope cutting through her whole list of very reasonable precautions.

“Can you afford to waste time on suspicion?” Jarod asked. “What would he- what would I gain by letting you out?” 

“Haven’t a clue, but just because I can’t see a trap doesn’t mean it’s not there.” 

“Can we please get moving?” Broots asked, crawling into the vent himself. “Not that I don’t appreciate the confusion, but we’re on a time limit.” He turned his back on them and disappeared from view.

Jarod cast a glance at the vent and back to her. “I had hoped- no. Nevermind. Here,” he pulled out a gun from somewhere and offered it to her, handle first. 

Parker stared at it.

“You don’t need to believe me,” he said, lifting the muzzle to his heart. “Broots knows the rest of the way out.” 

“What are you doing?” Parker asked.

“Giving you a choice,” he said. “All I want is for you to get out of here.” He swallowed. “I’ll… probably go back, but he’ll be gone. You can end it right now. You’ll have peace.”

Parker studied his face. She took a cautious step forward and gripped the handle. “I don’t want to kill you.” 

“If that’s what you need…” Jarod said, eyes steady on hers. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Parker said. She pulled the gun out of his grip. It was loaded.

His promise was sincere.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Parker said, once again finding steady ground. “But I am going to keep the gun.” 

Jarod relaxed as she dropped the aim, clicking the safety back on. He gave her tentative grin. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I trust the gun,” Parker said. And… it was true. Even if this was a trick, the gun gave her options. If it all went sideways, she would still have agency.

Jarod picked up the grate cover and motioned for her to get in. Parker stowed the gun and climbed in.

“Is it really you?” Parker asked. “Why would you come back for me? I ditched you without a word.”

“You knew you were coming back here, didn’t you?” Jarod asked. “You had a time limit.” He followed her in and refit the grate.

“Still…” 

“I wasn’t listening,” Jarod said. “You already knew what was coming for you, and I just… I made it worse.” 

“You couldn't know,” she said. “I didn’t tell you.”

“You said when you went back, not ‘if’. You put distance between me and her once you left me,” Jarod said. “You were protecting me, at the expense of your own feelings.” 

“I didn’t exactly have a bad time,” Parker muttered. It was rare to be able to go wild like that and not worry about the consequences.

“Parker said to say thank you for the headache, by the way,” he said. 

Broots was a fair ways ahead, into another room with a ladder. 

“This is your Broots, isn’t it?” Parker asked.

“We needed someone we could trust,” Jarod said, 

“Isn’t he your enemy?” 

“It’s… complicated,” Jarod said. “Normally, yes. There are mitigating circumstances.”

“But why would he help me?” 

“Parker’s his friend,” Jarod said. “She wasn’t going to just leave you here.” 

Other Parker had set up the rescue mission?

They had caught up to Broots at the ladder. “She was pretty clear,” Broots said, twisting the door seal, “that she wanted you out.”

“But why are you helping?” Parker asked. “It has almost nothing to do with you, and the process is…” 

“She made me agree to it before I knew what was involved,” Broots shuddered. “It’s not all bad. I’m glad I got to meet you. You’re a lot- a lot nicer than Miss Parker.”

“Broots,” Jarod said in warning.

“I know!” Broots said, throwing up his hands. “I know it’s fucked up, but it’s true.” 

They snaked their way through maintenance corridors and forgotten storerooms. Parker felt the air change as it became less stale. Less oppressive.

She smelled the salt of the ocean before she heard it. Jarod led them out around the pump system onto the beach. 

They stood blinking into the morning sun. Parker felt… this time, she knew… There was nothing between her and the world. The residual fear she’d felt from the first time she’d escaped was just a dull ache overrun by all the opportunities she knew were waiting for her.

She could find her father.

She could leave the country with him.

She didn’t have to stay here. There wasn’t anything worth staying for, anymore. She knew beyond all doubt it wasn’t worth it. This was a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Huh,” Broots said. “Is that how you get in and out so easily?” 

“Nope,” Jarod said.

“That was easy?” Parker asked. It had taken them a few hours to navigate the powerless facility. The Centre hid its rot well, and several of the passages could have swallowed them alive if they’d been unlucky.

“Well, nobody was shooting at us,” Broots said. 

Parker blinked. “Good point.”

“So are we clear?” Broots asked. “I-I can go home?” 

“Not quite,” Jarod said. “We’ve got some clean-up to handle.” 

“What are you going to do?” Parker asked.

Jarod looked out to the sea. “There’s a small boat about half a mile down that way. There are enough supplies to get you a ways down the coast.” 

“You’re not-” what, staying? Coming with me? Parker shut her mouth. She looked out to the water as well. 

A sense of loss swept over her, unexpectedly potent. She forced her breath past the catch in her throat. The waves seemed to be getting louder, a dull rushing-

“Broots, can you give us a minute?” Jarod asked. 

Broots’ wrinkled his nose. “I care about her too, you know,” he muttered, but wandered away, kicking at rocks as he went. He kept his back turned, and Parker couldn’t help but smile. 

“I like him,” she said. 

“He’s not too bad,” Jarod said. “He’s… a good father.” 

“You don’t have to be nice,” Parker said. “He works for them. He had a choice.” 

“It’s not always so simple,” Jarod said.

“Nothing ever is,” Parker said. “You could stay.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jarod said.

“You won’t even consider it,” Parker said, irritated by the tremble in her voice. She was being childish, and she knew it. Even with all the shit this world had dealt her, she still had people she loved here. She didn’t want to give it up.

She just… Why couldn’t she have him too?

Jarod was silent. Parker looked over at him, surprised by the tears on his face. Jarod didn’t bother to wipe them away as he returned her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Parker forced a sharp smile. “For what? What could you possibly be sorry for?” 

“I’m going to miss you,” he said. 

Parker scoffed, but her eyes were burning just the same. 

Jarod opened his arms and she fell into them. He was warm and solid and gripped her like he was drowning. Parker cried silently, as she’d learned to. 

Eventually, their breathing evened out and Parker pulled back. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d ever let go. “Thank you for coming back,” she said. 

“Thank you,” Jarod said. “For everything.”

“What now?” Parker asked. 

Jarod sighed. “I’m going to take a few weeks here, clean things up a bit. What do you… is there anything you want? From them?”

Parker looked back at the dark service tunnel they’d escaped from. She couldn’t see the Centre from here, but she knew it was just past the rise. It pulled at her mind like a lodestone, ever present. “I want… I want to stop running. I want to stop looking over my shoulder.”

Jarod squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. “Yeah?”

Parker pressed her forehead to his. “Yeah.”

Jarod rested his head against hers for a breath before pulling away completely. Parker felt cold from his absence. He crossed his arms and looked back out to the water. She was somewhat comforted by the effort it took him to compose himself.

She didn’t bother.

“Good,” Jarod said. “They should be in no position to chase you, when I’m through.” 

Parker tried not to feel bitter. It was a generous gift. “Thank you.” 

A generous parting gift.

There were only a few ways he could promise her something like that, and most of them firmly closed the door on any future meetings.

“What about Sydney?” Parker asked, needing the subject to change. She could think about it later, when she had a bottle of scotch and her father’s sympathetic ear.

“Oh, I’m sure Sydney will find a way to survive,” Jarod said, smiling at some private joke he only shared with himself.

“He’s not invincible,” Parker said. “He’s… I’m worried about him.” 

“Then call him,” Jarod said, eyes kind. “When you’re ready.” Jarod gave her shoulders a squeeze. “And take Broots with you, at least until you’re far enough away.”

“Was he your Broots the whole time?” Parker asked.

Jarod shrugged. “It was the only way we could think to get information. Parker discovered his counterpart worked for the Centre while she was here. We wanted your Jarod to think she was settling the score on her own, so that he wouldn’t expect my involvement.” 

“He’s not ‘my’ Jarod,” Parker said.

“I know. I’m sor-” 

“Stop fucking apologizing,” Parker growled. “How do you know other Broots won’t turn on me?” 

Jarod shifted. “He’s… he’s still a good father,” Jarod said. “If you can get his daughter, he’ll probably do anything for you.” 

Parker wrinkled her nose. “Get? Where is she?” 

“You’ll see,” Jarod said. “If you can get her out, they’ll have no leverage over him.” 

“Sounds fun,” Parker said.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“And then I’ll never see you again,” Parker said. Her voice fought her control. This was it. She’d only known this man for a matter of days, and it already felt like ripping her heart out. 

“Please don't-”

“No,” Parker said, courage buoyed by her anger. She was never going to see him again. There was no way in hell she wasn’t getting the last word. “No, you need to hear it. I could have loved you. I probably already do. And you… you’re just going to have to live with that.”

Jarod still had plenty of tears. Closing his eyes did nothing to contain them. “You’re- I will never forget you,” he said.

“See that you don’t,” Parker said. 

“I wish it could be different,” he whispered. 

Parker barked a laugh. She was nothing more than a flight of fancy for him. That other Parker had no idea what she had. “No, you don’t. Jarod, I-” Parker paused to take in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad I met you.”

Jarod opened his mouth to answer, but Parker pressed it closed with her own. 

It was nothing more than a peck. A postage stamp on a doomed future. She turned and walked away without looking back. 

Broots’ startled when she tapped his shoulder. He kindly made no mention of the state of her face. 

“Come on,” Parker said, seeing the promised boat at the shore. “We should go.” 

“That’s it?” Broots asked, glancing back at Jarod. “What did you say to him?” 

“I said goodbye,” Parker said. 

“That’s it? It’s like you-” 

Parker punched his shoulder. “We need to go.”

They needed to go before she looked, and couldn’t take another step forward. Broots nodded hastily and fell in step. He gripped her hand when she stumbled, and she couldn’t bring herself to let go when she was steady.

When they reached the boat and looked back, Jarod was gone.