Flying
a Pretender story
by Jill Kirby

Plot? What plot? (Really, I mean this.)

Summary: In her life, feeling like this got people killed.

This story is rated NC-17 for adult language and explicit, consensual m/f sex. Do not read this story if you are under 17. The story contains spoilers through "Island of the Haunted."

Please do not reproduce in print. Please do not archive. Archive links are welcome to all my pages. Disclaimer: Didn't create them, don't own them, just borrowing, don't sue, no money. There is some dialogue quoted here that is from the series itself; I make no claim to it, and certainly didn't write it. Just borrowing.

I love feedback. Just please don't write asking where the plot is.

Many thanks, as always, to Kelly and Karen for beta. This was actually written for Karen-- and I made her beta it. Such a good friend, I am!

***

Parker only wasted a moment staring at the cottage door before kicking it in.

For once, she'd actually surprised Jarod. He'd just started making a turkey sandwich, the white bread neatly laid out on a plate, a little squeeze bottle of mayonnaise next to it. For some reason, the folded napkin he'd put on one side of the plate made her throat catch, and she had to clear it before she spoke.

"Put the turkey down."

He stood there, holding the package of lunch meat, gaping at her like she was speaking Greek. She motioned at him with the gun. "Back away from the table, Jarod."

Jarod dropped the turkey and slowly put his hands in the air, moving away from her by several steps, towards the back of the little house. "Miss Parker." His voice was hoarse, bitter. "Welcome to Cape Cod."

Another vacation fucked up by the Centre's favorite genius. "You're the chamber of commerce now? Shut up and sit down." She gestured her gun towards the sofa.

"How did you find me?" His eyes were darting around, and Parker knew he was looking for something, anything to get him away from her eyes and her gun.

Parker laughed. "Brilliant detective work." He wouldn't believe her if she told him, and right now she had to figure out how to get him back to Delaware without a sweeper for miles around. If she could get him tied up well enough, she could have them send a team...

"Miss Parker." His eyes had stopped darting around, and were unmoving on her face. "Are you here by yourself?"

Yes, she was, because this was another unbelievable moment in her extraordinarily fucked-up life. "Of course not. The sweepers will be here in a moment."

"There aren't any sweepers," Jarod said, his head cocked as if he were listening to something, something only he could hear.

"How do you know?"

"They'd be in here now." Jarod walked over and glanced out the window, ignoring her weapon, confirming his theory. "They're not very patient when it comes to me, Miss Parker,"

The laughter came bubbling out before Parker could stop it, and she had to sit down at the little kitchen table

"Of course there aren't any sweepers," she said amidst gasps of laughter, and she had to repeat herself so that Jarod could actually understand her. "No sweepers."

"Why would you be here without..."

Her renewed peals of laughter cut him off. "Because..." She held one hand against her stomach, trying to stop the laughter that was an inch away from hysteria. When she looked up at Jarod, her eyes were wet with tears. "I didn't come here to find you, Jarod. I came to get away for the weekend."

He didn't believe her; his face was stony and dark. "Right."

"It's Cape fucking Cod, Jarod. People do come here on vacation, or haven't you heard?" Parker took several deep breaths, pushing back the giggles. "I've been working too hard, thanks to you. Having trouble sleeping." No need to tell him she hadn't slept a night through since Scotland, since... "I just wanted to get away."

"So you're here on a vacation?" Jarod sounded skeptical, and she didn't blame him. It was an incredible coincidence, like the kind of shit that happened in a bad romance novel, the kind with a half-naked Fabio on the cover.

Leaving her gun on the table, Parker wiped the tears from her eyes, then rested her head in her hands. "I had no idea you were here. I just needed to get away. And then I made the mistake of going to the Quick Mart to buy scotch."

"And you saw me."

Parker rubbed the heels of her hands against her forehead. The pressure felt good, grounding her somehow. "And I saw you at the Quick Mart." This was her life, a life of impossible coincidences, of choices that left her raw and exhausted. Being forced to chase and capture a man whose only crime was to have been born gifted, to bring him back to a captivity that would almost certainly end in his death.

She looked up with her hands on the back of her neck, considering him. His hair was shorter again, which made him look older; grey was starting to creep in, just like it was in hers. There were lines in his face that hadn't even been there in Scotland, but underneath he was still the boy she'd known since childhood, the man she'd spent most of her energy on for years.

This was the man who'd turned her life upside down more than once. Then, on a rainy island, he had toppled it completely with just the touch of his hand.

"I've always felt-- I've always known-- that there was something more to our lives than I run, you chase." He'd said that to her while she tried so hard to look anywhere but at him, and those words had echoed in her head a thousand times since.

Could she live in a world where this man was a prisoner again? Or dead?

She sighed, and it sounded like the sigh came from a thousand feet underground. "Go. I don't give a shit any more, Jarod."

He was still, his eyes intent on her face.

Parker waved one hand at him. "Go. I don't care. I just don't care. I'll never get any answers, and neither will you. I just want to survive a little longer. And I'd rather..." Her voice caught. "I'd rather you survived, too."

She stood, leaving her gun on the table. Walking over to the front door of the cabin, Parker opened it halfway. "Go."

Jarod was rarely speechless, but he obviously had no idea what to say to this. Looking at the door, then at her face, he just stood there with his hands limp at his sides. If she'd had more energy, she'd have been entertained. She could still surprise him, Pretender or no.

"Get the hell out of here before I change my mind, Jarod," Parker said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Go."

He was at the door in a few long strides, looking down at her, studying her face as if he'd never seen it before. "How can I go?"

Parker started to reply, but Jarod shook his head. "We never got the chance for this," he whispered, and his lips were on hers, light and sweet.

She was so startled that she let go of the door, falling against it. It slammed shut, very nearly sending her tumbling to the floor, but she caught on to the doorknob and ended up with her back against the wood. It wasn't graceful, but she barely noticed; she was too busy staring at Jarod and trying to catch a breath. Any breath.

They stared at each other for several long moments, and he took a step forward and kissed her again.

In Scotland, with the heat of the fire on their backs making the cold outside world seem very far away, she'd come an inch from his lips. She'd felt his breath on her face, been hyper-aware of everything about him-- the way he had smelled, the rough skin of his hand on hers. Everything. But she'd never had the chance to know what it was like to be kissed by an adult Jarod. Since that night, she'd thought (more than once) that it was better she not know.

She had been right. This knowing could change everything. His lips, the way he tasted, his hands slipping around to pull her closer to him, how her body fit against his... This, she didn't want to know. She couldn't know, because she'd never want to let go.

Alarms were going off in her head, loud and red and terrifying. It was one thing to let this Pretender go, to choose to continue the illusion of their chase. It was another thing entirely to feel like this, to want to wrap herself in him. In her life, feeling like this got people killed.

Fighting against the parts of her that wanted more, she tore herself away from Jarod, peeling his hands from her shoulders and not worrying that her nails were cutting into his skin. He winced.

Who had said the hardest thing in the world was doing the right thing? They were absolutely correct. "If you don't get the hell out, I will."

He opened his mouth to say something, and she cut him off. "I didn't come up here to get laid, Jarod. I came up here for a vacation. Get out."

Good. She'd made him angry; maybe he'd leave now. His eyes were narrowed, and he had that tense look about his shoulders he got when he was pissed. "So," he drawled. "You're just letting me go? Just like that?"

"Just like that." Parker indicated the door again. "I won't even call the Centre and tell them you were here. If I tell them, there goes my vacation. So get out."

He took a step toward her, and as she backed up she realized that, somehow, he'd angled himself so that she couldn't get to the door. She was basically being backed into a corner, her least favorite place to be. In a quick turn of the tables, Jarod was now running this particular show.

To prove it, he leaned forward to kiss her again. When his lips met hers, the hunger poured off him, drawing her in, and she didn't have the strength to pull away.

He wanted this as much as she did; neither of them had any power over what was happening here. As she ran her hands over the flat of his back, drawing him closer, one small rational bit of her mind didn't find that reassuring.

Jarod drew back, his breath uneven. "Say no, and I'll leave."

Parker couldn't immediately respond; she was trying too hard to catch her breath. "Say no?"

He nodded. "Say no." His gaze was nearly leaving scorch marks on her skin.

If she stayed, if he stayed, there would be one ending to this encounter. Just one, and Parker didn't know if she could handle it. Staring at his chest, she placed her hands flat in the middle of it, feeling his warmth, his rapid heartbeat. For just a moment, she let herself imagine.

Wasn't her life complicated enough?

She pushed, catching him off guard, sending him stumbling back. "Go."

"Go?"

Parker nodded, not realizing that her arms were still outstretched until he took her wrists in his hands and drew them back to his chest. When he laughed, she felt the rumble deep in her own body.

"You didn't say 'no,' " he murmured, and his mouth was on hers, and she didn't pull away.

Her wrists were still in his hands, and she tried to move her hands up around his neck, but he stopped her. With a quick movement he captured both wrists with one hand, putting them over her head. Before she could truly register that he had her flat up against a wall, his other hand had swept down the buttons of her blouse, ripping it open, and was back up to recapture her wrists.

Jarod slid his arms out, taking her hands with his, until she was spread eagled against the wall. The cool air on her torso brought Miss Parker at least halfway back to coherent thought-- until his mouth touched the hollow between her breasts, light as a feather but far more deliberate.

Oh, God.

Every hair on the back of her neck was raised; Jarod's mouth was leaving a trail of sensitized skin behind. The bra she was wearing was little more than scraps of black lace, and when Jarod kissed first the underside of one breast, then moved up to the nipple, she might as well not have been wearing a bra at all. His lips lingered, brushing across the lace, teasing the nipple that had hardened at his ministrations.

Eyes half-shut, Parker looked down at Jarod. She couldn't see his face, and with her breath becoming more and more shallow she was having some trouble focusing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Parker was aware that if she really wanted one, there were ways out of this situation-- a good knee in Jarod's crotch, for one, would put him entirely out of commission for more than enough time to get her out of here. Instead, she arched toward him, biting her bottom lip as he trailed his tongue down her stomach.

Straightening, Jarod's eyes met hers for a long moment, dark and inscrutable. Parker realized he was flushed, too, and more than a little breathless, and as he kissed her again some part of her gloried in the effect she was having on him.

Her arms were still splayed on either side of her, her head pressed against the wall with the force of Jarod's kisses. She couldn't move her hands, but she could still move her body, and as she pushed it forward against his she was rewarded by his gasp, by his lips pulling away from hers. She ground her pelvis against him-- part of her desperately needing the friction, some of her wanting to gauge if he was half as aroused as she was.

He was. Oh, he was, and that just made her feel even heavier with desire.

The contact only threw him for a moment, and then he was pushing back against her, giving her that contact while his lips were on her throat, her ear, biting at the lobe.

He was going to drive her insane. "Hands." She tugged weakly at her hands. "Jarod..."

He pulled away from her, breathing heavily, and his eyes searched hers. Parker leaned forward. "Do you really think I'm going anywhere?" she breathed into his mouth.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, bending down and kissing the curve of her throat. "Tell me."

She rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"Yes."

He loosed his hands from her wrists, running his hands over her arms, to her torso, around to her back, pulling her against him, his mouth returning to hers.

Free. Her hands were free. She could hit him or strangle him. Or she could wrap her arms around Jarod's neck, getting as close to him as she could, all raw need and burning skin. She felt him smile against her mouth, and then his hands moved down, sliding up under her buttocks and pulling her up. Parker wrapped her legs around his waist, humming against his mouth at the contact and at the pressure of his hands.

Locked in that position, not breaking the kiss, Jarod turned and carried her to the sofa as if she weighed nothing, sitting down and leaning her back against the armrest. Hands around her waist, he lifted her slightly away from him to settle her on the sofa, then trailed his hands up her stomach, over her breasts, up to her shoulders.

She couldn't do anything but watch him, and when he smiled at her she felt everything in her run clear and bright. Jarod pushed the shirt off her shoulders. "Let me," he murmured, and she raised slightly to let her shirt slide off, shivering as his hands slipped around to her back and unhooked her flimsy bra, tossing it to the ground with her shirt. His hands cupped her breasts, rubbing gently at her sensitive skin.

"Let me."

Parker wasn't sure what he meant, but at this point she wasn't going to object to much. Everywhere he touched her felt like brand new skin, awake and alive and screaming for more, and his hands on her thighs as he slid her skirt up around her waist were warm and rough.

Parker gasped as his fingers lightly dipped down and trailed across her; even though there was still fabric between his skin and hers she couldn't stop her involuntary jerk of response, couldn't stop herself from pushing towards his hand. God, it felt good, and the thought of releasing some of the tension was achingly sweet. He smiled, his fingers repeating the motion with more pressure, and Parker drew a ragged breath.

She moved to unhook her skirt, but Jarod stilled her hands. "Let me," he repeated, his eyes dark with more than anger now. He untangled himself from her and pulled down her skirt and her underpants in the same movement. When they'd joined the rest of her clothing on the floor, he ran his hands down over her bare legs and pulled her sandals off, as well. Looking up at her, he rubbed her feet lightly before moving up to massage her calves, his eyes never leaving her face.

His fingertips trailed lightly up the inside of her thighs, and Parker whimpered slightly. He was close, so close...

When Jarod spoke, it was so softly that she was never sure exactly what he said. It might have been nothing. Then again, he could have said "Let me show you how you make me feel."

She couldn't ask, though, because any question she might have posed was lost in her helpless moan as his hand moved up to touch her, to dip inside her. His touch was sure and certain, and as he stroked gently around the center of her, she threw her head back and forgot just about everything.

His mouth was on her, his insistent tongue somehow going to all the right places. Parker barely had time to brace herself against the couch before her orgasm hit her. Hard. It sent her spiraling to where all she could do was cry out with the relief and pleasure of it, of finally achieving release.

When she finally lifted her head, collecting herself, Parker realized that Jarod was sitting up, moving away from her, his eyes so filled with sadness that she knew immediately what was going through his mind. She was naked on the couch, spread out and glowing; she should feel self-conscious or embarrassed. She didn't, but just sat up and grabbed on to his t-shirt with one hand.

"Parker..." His head ducked, and he couldn't meet her eyes.

"You aren't going anywhere, Jarod." Like she was undressing a child, she stood and tugged at the t-shirt he was wearing, pulling it over his head and throwing it onto the floor where it joined most of her clothes. The expression on his face was priceless, and she scritched her fingernails lightly through the mat of hair on his chest.

"We..." He was going to object, talk, overintellectualize, yammer on about all the things that constrained their lives and had stopped this from happening for so many years. She'd let his talk and her walls come between them for their entire lives. No more.

"Shh." Parker traced his lips with one finger. "Let me just say one thing..." She reached down and undid the button at the waist of his jeans; his stomach tightened at her touch. "I don't give a shit."

He seemed paralyzed by her fingers, and she took advantage of the situation to run down the zipper. His erection was straining for release, and she looked up at Jarod, one eyebrow quirking. "Just take off your goddamn pants, Jarod, or I'm going to take them off for you."

His trance was broken, and he grinned at her like a teenager in the back seat of a car; all she could do was smile back as he slipped the jeans and boxers down over his lean hips, kicking them off when they reached his ankles. God, he was gorgeous, and clearly painfully ready for her; as much as she'd have liked to explore, Parker wasn't sure he'd last long enough.

She took his hands, pulling him down to the sofa with her.

The couch was narrow; not wide enough for them to lay side by side, so his body partially covered hers; after the one-sided aspect of their initial encounter, it was rich and wonderful to feel his skin, be warmed by his body heat. His mouth was on her breast again, teasing the nipple back to attention, his hands tracing patterns over her stomach.

Always thinking about her, apparently. Fabulous, but she'd already had her cookie, and she reached down and closed one hand around him, ignoring his strangled gasp as she guided him towards her.

Parker almost cried with sheer relief as he slipped into her, filling her; technique was great, but she'd always craved the contact that good old-fashioned intercourse provided. She might not always come, but this connection was part of what Parker loved about sex.

Being made love to by a Pretender had plenty of rewards, and yet another reward was Jarod's amazing restraint; most men, once they made it past the starting gate, tended to finish the race pretty quickly. Jarod, however, moved slowly, almost languidly. Arms on either side, he was so intent on watching her face that it was as if he barely realized he was finally inside her.

Well, she could certainly remind him, and she pushed up to meet him, the contact hard and startling. Jarod grunted in surprise, his elbows buckling slightly before he caught himself. The surprise increased the speed and force of his movement, and he was finally letting himself go, finally losing himself in the moment, in her. Parker felt all those nerve endings that already had been so satisfied wake up again, impossibly on fire.

His heat inside her filled her, seared her, turned everything upside down. Parker moaned something that might have been his name, might just have been pleasure, and she swung her legs up, wrapping them around him, urging him on. Good God, she was going to come again, unless Jarod stopped before she did; he was close, and she wasn't about to ask him to slow down. Each stroke sent waves of sensation coursing through her. They fit together; they knew each other.

Even now his eyes were fixed on her, cloudy with desire. Parker watched him-- she wanted to remember. She wanted to remember all of this, everything, but it all dissolved into a blur of movement and feeling and damp skin that made any kind of rational thought impossible.

***

At some point, they made their way into the tiny bedroom. Slipping between the cool sheets with relief, they came together again, slow and sweet and wordless, already familiar and welcome.

Parker slept that night Really slept, like she hadn't in a long time.

When she woke up alone, Parker was instantly alert. One hand reached out and found the sheets next to her were cool. She peered out at the room through her eyelashes, but Jarod was nowhere to be seen.

He'd left, and her stomach twisted at that knowledge. What was he thinking-- screw Parker, leave Parker? What kind of value system did this man have?

She knew the answer to that. He had a value system instilled by people who taught only fear; they both came from common ground. He had left because he was afraid of what he'd see in her face if he stayed. He was terrified that she would wake up and look at him with regret, with rejection. He had left because he couldn't face her looking at him with the same look she'd had in the limousine in Scotland, where she'd given up, buckled under the soul-deadening weight of the Centre.

Well, fuck that. She wasn't that woman any more. Exhaustion and death and the realization that she couldn't live with herself if this man was captured or died... all that had changed her, changed everything. She wasn't letting him disappear. Not this time.

Rolling over, she was about to get up when she saw Jarod standing off to one side of the bed, holding a glass of water. She was so relieved to see him that she couldn't speak, couldn't move, but just looked up at him. His hair was falling in his face, making his eyes look absurdly large. At some point, he'd reacquired his boxers. She hadn't noticed, when he was taking them off, that they were navy with little red polka dots on them. For some reason, this made her feel odd inside.

When she smiled at him, finally, her smile was wobbly.

"I thought you might want this."

"Thanks." Parker wasn't sure she wanted to know how he knew she'd be thirsty; add it to the list of things Jarod knew without being told. She wondered, sometimes, if it was all due to the fact that he was a Pretender.

The water felt wonderful on her throat, and she drank most of it while Jarod climbed back into bed. Once she put the glass down on the bedside table, it was the most natural thing in the world to end up in his arms, wrapped against him, as if she'd woken every morning of her life surrounded by his warmth. As she tucked a foot between his, getting that much closer, Parker thought that if she were a cat she'd be purring.

God, he smelled good. She loved how men smelled; even straight out of the shower they smelled unmistakably male. Jarod was far from freshly showered, but his smell of sweat and sex and something vaguely cinnamony was just about the best thing she could remember waking up to in years.

"How's this for a vacation?"

He laughed, and she swore she could hear the weight of years lifting off him. "Pretty good. Beats Europe by a mile."

"Oh, this is much more relaxing than Europe," she murmured, tucking her head more securely into the curve of his neck. "Much."

"I certainly slept well," he chuckled.

"Mmm hmm."

"You said..." He was twirling a lock of her hair; it tickled. "You said you hadn't been sleeping, and that's why you came up here for a holiday." Parker nodded. "How long have you had trouble sleeping?"

He couldn't see her face, and Parker was suddenly glad of that. Even now. "Since Scotland," she murmured against him.

"Nightmares?"

"Not that I remember." If anyone deserved nightmares, it was her; that time on the island had provided material for years worth of hellish visions, but that hadn't been her problem. She sighed, wondering if she could explain this so it would make sense. "I'd just... wake up. I would sleep for a couple of hours, and then be wide awake. Just like that."

Jarod was quiet; there was just the rumble of his breathing until, after a long pause, she felt his lips touch the top of her head. "I kept seeing your face."

Her face? Parker pulled back slightly, looking up at him, wondering what he meant, what was in his eyes.

"I've never slept well-- I've had nightmares for years." That simple statement held more pain than Parker was ready to face; she twined her fingers through his and held on while he continued. "After Scotland, I had something new to miss."

This man... She would never know quite what to make of him. Ever.

"So we've both been falling apart for months." The lines in his face were more pronounced now.

" 'Falling apart' might be a little strong, but not by much." She reached up, smoothing his hair. "It was a lot to take in. Not just... you. Everything."

"The scrolls, the man you thought was your father..."

Parker shook her head, cutting him off. "He was my father. Maybe not genetically, but he raised me." She could see by the set of his jaw that he didn't like what she was saying, but she kept going. "He was a long way from perfect, but he was my father, and I loved him. When I had to face that Raines was my biological father, I realized that genetics aren't all that matters."

Jarod nodded, slowly; he would never get past how he felt about her father, but he could respect her opinion. She couldn't blame him for being unforgiving; Jarod had lost everything, partly (largely?) because of her family.

Part of her wondered if Jarod recognized that Sydney was more his father than Major Charles would ever be; again, genetics shouldn't be all that mattered. Now wasn't the time to bring that up, but she'd ask him. Someday.

"Scotland changed everything," she said finally. "Everything."

"Yes, it did." He leaned forward and kissed her, quick and soft, and she smiled against his lips. "Not all the changes were bad," Jarod murmured.

No, they weren't, but the price that the two of them had paid to get here-- that dozens of people had paid-- was terribly, terribly high. They both knew that.

Parker rested her cheek back on his shoulder. "No. But I wish..."

"I know."

When he finally spoke again, Jarod's voice was husky. "Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wonder what those scrolls said."

It was always about the search with him. Hell, it had always been about the search with her. Right now, here with him, the search seemed a long way away. If the searching stayed at the center of their lives, neither of them had a chance at anything approaching normal. He was going to have to leave that behind. So was she, however difficult it was-- they would never know all the answers, and some ghosts weren't worth chasing.

Maybe she could convince him of this. Maybe she couldn't. She had to try.

"I don't give a shit."

His breath caught. "I don't believe you."

"Believe me. I don't care any more." As she said it, Parker realized it was finally true, and it was as if she could finally breathe again. "Jarod, we can chase after those scrolls for the rest of our lives, and we'll never get any answers. I said that last night, and I meant it. Every time we get near some kind of resolution, another question comes up."

"But don't you want to know?"

Parker brushed a stray thread from the sheet on top of him. "Of course I do. But Jarod, I'm tired. I'm sick and fucking tired of I chase, you run. I can't do it any more. My father is dead, I'm in some kind of twisted contest with my nine-fingered cannibal brother to catch you and lock you up again, and I can't sleep a night through. Isn't there a point where you have to take what you've got and leave the damn game?"

His arms tightened around her. "Do you really think they're going to let you leave?"

"I'm not that stupid. I can't just walk out the front door and expect them to give me a goodbye party, but there's got to be some way to come up with an exit strategy."

"I'm not sure how many exit strategies have been successful at the Centre."

"There's a first time for everything." Parker's voice was light, and she knew she was minimizing something that was going to be extraordinarily difficult-- but for the first time in her life, she believed it was possible. It had to be.

They were quiet for a while. He was so warm against her; could they stay like this forever? Or at least for a few days?

When Jarod finally spoke, his voice was serious. "If you try to leave, you'll get hurt."

"That's nothing new, Jarod. I get hurt when I stay."

Jarod kissed the top of her head. "I want you to stay alive."

She smiled to herself. "I appreciate that."

"So you're giving up finding any answers?"

"What's left that we need to know, really? We need to find your mother. She can probably explain almost everything else that's going on. I finally know who killed my mother. My father is dead; my genetic father should be." Parker shrugged. "I'm not sure what else there is to find out that won't get both of us killed. Or get a lot of other people killed."

"You'd be safer if you stayed where you are."

"Of course I would be." Rolling off his chest, she moved back and propped her head on her hand, watching him. "I'd be safer if I stayed working for the Centre. I'd be safer if I hadn't followed you to Scotland. I'd be safer if my mother had gotten the hell out before she died." How could she make him understand, make him hear her? "I think we've moved way the hell beyond safe."

He watched her, not moving.

"I can't stay, Jarod. That's just not living. That's..." She searched for a word, a phrase. "That's just getting by."

He sighed. "You said once that you do what you have to do to get by in this life."

"I'm tired of just getting by, Jarod. If I remember correctly, you said that we deserved something more." He nodded. "I'd say we've started in that direction."

"You could get hurt."

After telling her she should leave, now he was scared she would. Parker knew why he was scared, now, but that was all the more reason she should leave. "So could you."

He shrugged; obviously his own safety wasn't what concerned him. "Maybe it's too dangerous to want more."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting more." Parker leaned forward, touching her lips to his shoulder.

"We..."

"Shh." This was impossible, but she wasn't stopping now; his skin was electric under her mouth, his breathing erratic at every touch of her hands. Parker lifted her head and met his eyes, dark and serious. "You're a Pretender, and I'm a damn smart woman. We're not here by accident, Jarod." Reaching over, she brushed her hand over his cheek; he cupped his hand over hers, holding it there. "We'll work this out."

"Will we?" His voice was rough, and the look in his eyes took her back to a limousine not so long ago, when he tried to take her hands, when he tried to make her listen.

She was listening now.

"Yes, we will." She put every ounce of certainty she possessed into her words, keeping her eyes steady on his for what seemed like forever.

Jarod moved her hand away from his cheek, finally, and kissed her palm with lips that were gentler than a man's had a right to be. "You make me believe we can," he whispered against her skin, and Parker had to fight back the tears that welled up at the sound of his voice-- sad and lost and hopeful, all at the same time.

"No." She slipped her arms around him, drawing him close, burying her face in his neck, breathing him in. "You're the one who makes me believe."

His kiss was a promise and a declaration. It was a beginning.

End

***

Standard disclaimer: These are smart people who have had multiple sexual partners, and they would use condoms. The only reason they're not pulling out the Trojans in this story is because I'm too lazy to write it in.

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