This is rated PG-13 for some language. This is set at some point after "Island of the Haunted," but there are no specific spoilers for that or any episode.

I didn't create and don't own these characters or the premise of the show. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no infringement is intended, and absolutely no money is being made from this. Jo is mine, however. Please do not reproduce in print. Please do not archive. Archive links are welcome.

Feedback? Oh, yes, please.

Thanks to Kelly for beta. And thanks to Karen for liking her.

***

So I'm in the store one afternoon, and it's a zoo because two people have called in and I'm running one of the registers-- which meant I'd be there until all hours, because my regular work doesn't just go away-- and one of the coolers starts making a scary noise. I'm all worried about the cooler, because a bunch of spoiled Hot Pockets will just kill my loss report for the week, and a customer hits the floor. Boom. And it was Eddie Livarus, so when I say boom I mean boom. He's a big guy.

If I thought it was a zoo before, you should've seen it when Eddie dropped in the cereal aisle. There were boxes of Kellogg's everywhere. Mickey goes into hysterics, because she's 16 and is the poster child for why I shouldn't hire 16-year-old cashiers. I manage to call 911, get Tom to take Mickey into the break room... They don't teach you this shit in management classes. You just do it. It's a good thing the paramedics were there pretty quick.

That's how I met Jarod. He was teamed with Bob, who I've known since high school, and the two of them took good care of Eddie. Something to do with his diabetes, it turned out, and Eddie was just fine. So we were all glad about that, of course, though I didn't really have time to be glad. I had a store to run, and we were down two, plus then Mickey freaking out in back. I was busy doing twenty different things, and keeping everyone the hell away from the paramedics. No one in this town has ever watched TV, you'd think, because they're all over in the way and asking questions while Bob and Jarod did their job. Haven't they ever seen ER?

I had to kick some serious ass that day. I even had to haul old Mr. Benson away by the back of his jacket, and with that and the telling-off I gave him it's no wonder he can't look me in the eye any more.

I was so relieved that Eddie was fine-- and honestly, relieved that they got him out of there, and that Mickey pulled it together enough to take a register again-- that I hardly noticed when this tall, dark-haired, gorgeous paramedic hung around, following me around the store, long after he'd filled out all his paramedic paperwork.

I looked up, finally, and noticed (really noticed) him. So then of course I could hardly talk, because he's gorgeous and I'm not good at that sort of thing. But for some reason, he was easy to talk to even though he looked like a model, and he helped me clean up the cereal aisle, and before I knew it he was taking me out to lunch the next day.

I've always been so careful about dating; single moms have to be, and I have a lousy track record. After Carl-the-asshole (that's what Tracey calls him, and I can't call him anything else now), I pretty much stopped dating. It was safer for Charlie. For both of us.

Jarod, though... I couldn't say no. He was-- is-- such a gentleman. Those early dates... well, they were perfect. It was like he was following a book: how to date single moms in ten easy steps. Very careful, so polite. And the stories he tells-- he's just so smart, but doesn't brag about it. He was amazing with Charlie, too. Plus, he made me laugh harder than I've laughed, ever. Sides-hurt laughter.

I tried really hard to be careful. Not to fall.

We'd only gone out a few times when Jarod quit being a paramedic. It was right around the time they arrested one of the firemen for fraud, I think. It was a big deal. The guy was even related to me, by marriage. Anyway, Jarod quit after that. I wondered-- what would he do? It's not a big city, and if you're not a paramedic for this town, it's not like there's anywhere else nearby to work. By then he'd settled into this tiny little house on the edge of town. He'd even gotten some furniture after I teased him about how his living room just had a desk in it. It was a cute house, too, although it was smack in the middle of a field with no trees anywhere.

I asked him what he was going to do, now that he wasn't a paramedic. "I'm not sure," he said, and those dark eyes had just looked out, miles past me, miles past town. When he came back (and that's how I think of it; he kind of goes away in his head sometimes), he grinned like a teenager. "I guess I can do anything I want."

I love that about him, that he thinks he has all these options. I learned a long time ago that options are usually limited to whatever helps you make the rent and the car payment, and keeps you out of collections with the doctor bills.

I remember all this really well, because he didn't kiss me-- really kiss me-- until our sixth date, which was a week or two after he quit. Right after that, he left town the first time.

I remember the sixth date thing because-- let's face it-- guys don't wait that long to put the moves on girls. They just don't. The guy before Carl-the-asshole, who was a blind date from my second cousin, got pissed when I wouldn't sleep with him on the second date. After I'd kicked him back to his side of the car, I told him that no one was going to sleep with him until he stopped smelling like liver. Carl-the-asshole wasn't patient, either. But Jarod? Perfect gentleman, until that sixth date when he kissed me on the porch and I thought I was going to melt. Or burst into flames. Or both.

He pulled away from me, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost, and took off without hardly saying anything. Left town right after that. Not a word. I thought... well, I thought a lot of things, but mostly I thought that he probably wasn't coming back. What did he have to come back to, really? He didn't have a job, and didn't know all that many people. And people leave stuff in rental houses all the time.

For a week, I figured he was gone. I went to work, and drove Charlie to soccer, and tried to balance the checkbook at midnight when all I really wanted to do was sleep. Or cry. Single moms live exciting lives. At the end of the week, though, I went out back of the store to get some stupid training manual from my car and there he was, leaning against his truck.

It's summer in the South, and he's wearing black jeans and one of those short-sleeved black fitted t-shirts he likes so much, and somehow he doesn't look like an idiot. I almost fell over when I saw him.

I couldn't seem to talk, so he did. "Hi." I was looking at anything but him-- his knees, the ground. "I should have called you before I left," he said. "I had to leave pretty unexpectedly."

I did look at him, then. I think I even tossed my hair; I can get pretty dramatic sometimes. "You don't owe me a phone call, Jarod. You're free to come and go as you please."

God, his eyes. "I'm not so sure about that."

And then he was pressing me back against the car, the metal hot against my back, kissing me like he hadn't kissed anyone in years. At that point, I didn't give a shit where he'd been, because he lifted me up by the waist and set me up on the trunk of the car so we were level, and his arms were around me and my legs were around his waist and oh, God, it was like you dream about being kissed. We were like teenagers. I mean, I'm the store manager, and there I was making out in the back parking lot. If any of the regionals had come by I'd have lost my damn job, and right then I could've have cared less.

I was pretty shameless after that. A girl gets lonely, you know? I mean, I'm careful about dating, yeah. But I'm not stupid.

And... he came back. To me.

Turns out his family has a business, so he'd been out of town with that. He works with his dad, most of the time. He travels a lot. A few days here, a week or two there, and he's never definite on the time frame. I've asked, believe me, but he gets that closed-up look and I don't push it any more; we both have things we don't talk about.

Once he was gone for an entire month. I was a wreck by the third week. Before that trip, though, he left a few things at my place-- one of his shirts, a computer game that Charlie liked, a couple other little things-- and he never does that. I mean, never. It was like he left them there so that I knew he was coming back. Which is silly, because guys don't think like that.

I can always tell when he's about to go out of town, because he doesn't sleep well. It's funny-- when he comes back from traveling, he sleeps like a log, hogs the bed all night and I can hardly move. He only gets up in time to leave before Charlie wakes up (Jarod's so funny about that). But I think he must be afraid of flying or something, because before a trip he tosses and turns, mumbles things, and wakes up way before early.

A couple of times, he's even had monster nightmares. Before that time he was gone for a month, he had the worst one. He woke me up in the middle of the night, tossing around like he was trying to find something to grab onto. He was talking, but I couldn't understand a word, he was talking so fast.

With kids' nightmares, you kind of wake them up a little, and stroke their foreheads, and they calm down. But when I shook Jarod's shoulder, just lightly, he-- well, he hit me, hard, on the arm. It hurt, and left a really ugly bruise. Went all purple and yellow within a couple of days. Looking back, I'm glad Jarod wasn't around to see it.

Anyway, that scared me. I stayed way on the other side of the bed, rubbing my arm, watching until I just couldn't take it any more. I mean, you should have seen him. He was crying in his sleep, for God's sake, and it was damn near breaking my heart. So I waited until he wasn't thrashing around quite so much, and I went over quick and just wrapped him up in my arms. Tight-- I'm little, but I'm strong. And I talked into his ear, soothing nonsense stuff. Listen to me, Jarod. You're fine. You're here. You're safe.

It took a while, but he calmed down. I hung on to him for the rest of the night, just in case, but he never woke up, and the nightmare didn't come back that night. When he left the next morning, I don't think he remembered any of it. Just left, and didn't come back for a month.

Yeah, that was the worst. But again, he came back. But I just don't know what keeps Jarod coming back. I try not to think about it, but I can't help it. It might be Charlie, a little; he's a great kid. Me? I mean, look at me. Carl-the-asshole used to call me "chicken girl," since I'm so damn skinny and gawky, even after having Charlie. And I'm short. Plus, not much of a prize in a single mom grocery store manager who's always going to be four classes away from an associate's degree.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not hideous, or anything. Just... well, I'm nothing special, and I'm not a model. Jarod could date a model. You should see women around him He could have just about any girl in town, and I'm including the married ones in that. He's with me, though. He comes home to me, and he cooks us dinner and makes me laugh, and he brushes my hair, and when he tells me I'm beautiful I almost believe him.

There's not much I can do for him. I'm there when he comes back from out of town. I cook, when he lets me. I keep an eye on his house for him. I tried to mend one of his shirts once, the blue one he tore when he took Charlie out go-cart riding. He pulled the shirt right out of my sewing basket. "I'll just get a new one, Jo."

"But it's practically new! Jarod, I can fix it." He wouldn't hear of it, no matter how pissy I got. He just doesn't let people help him.

I talked to him about it, a little, one night a while ago. Charlie was finally asleep, and I was smack in the middle of my favorite place. Bed. I like to spread out and do paperwork there-- bills, work, whatever. Jarod was working on his laptop, feet braced against the edge of the bed, chair tilted back.

"You're going to fall, you keep leaning the chair like that," I said absently, trying to figure out how much I could pay on the Visa bill. I like to pay more than the minimum, when I can afford it.

"You say that every night."

"Every night, I'm right." I grinned over at him. "One of these nights, you'll fall."

He smiled, clicked a few keys, and shut the laptop. "I didn't fall off Fletcher's roof. I think I can manage a chair." Leaving the laptop on the floor, he flopped on the bed behind me.

"No, you didn't fall off the roof. You just scared the crap out of me up there." Jarod had stretched out on his side, head propped up on one hand. I leaned back against him.

"I just wanted to help." He rubbed my back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I wish I could have explained how my stomach had dropped out when I saw him practically jogging up the slant of the roof, not seeming to care that he was a hell of a long way from solid ground. It surprised me how scared I was, actually. But I didn't know how to tell Jarod that, so I just shrugged and paid a lot of attention to signing a check. "You're good at practically everything, but you still need to be careful."

"I am. Don't worry."

"Well, I worry a little." I turned a bit, so I could see his face better. "Is that all right?"

Jarod has the most amazing smile; it lights up his entire face. "It's all right."

I brushed a bit of hair back from his forehead, then went back to the bills with a sigh. "I wonder sometimes if they import the water from France or something," I muttered. "It costs more than the bottled stuff at work."

"I wish you'd let me help." When I shook my head, he sighed, acting all over-dramatic. "I shower too, you know."

"Thank goodness," I said, nudging him with one elbow. "Really, I'm fine."

"You should let me help, sometimes." He rolled onto his back, stretching his arms out over his head, cracking his back.

"Oh, listen to you!" I laughed. "You're one to talk. You never let anyone pay you when you help out. You climb all over Fletch's roof, and you don't even let him buy you lunch."

"I can afford my own hamburger."

"That's not the point." I tossed the checkbook down. "You should let people help you once in a while."

He didn't say anything, just brought his arms back up and folded them on his chest, watching me like he knew I wasn't going to drop this. He knows me pretty well.

"Jarod, why don't you ever let people do things for you? Seriously."

His eyes moved away from mine, and I lost him for a moment. "I haven't always been able to do the right thing," he said finally. "I guess I'm trying to make up for that."

"You?" He obviously meant what he said, but I couldn't believe it. "You're one of the best people I know. I can't imagine you have much to make up for."

He took my hand in his, threading our fingers together. "You have no idea."

You should have heard his voice. It was so damn sad, so lost.

So I leaned over and kissed him, because it was the only way I could think of to get that look out of his eyes. Just a quick kiss, but when I lifted my head he was smiling, and the sadness was... not gone, exactly. Just moved to the side, but that was better.

He put one hand on the back of my neck and drew me back down, and it wasn't a quick kiss that time. Not at all. And not long after, we were messing up all my nice piles of bills. I didn't care, either, because it was just paper, and it was easy to shove off the bed onto the floor.

No nightmares that night, for either of us.

I mean, I know where nightmares come from; I have them too. They come from the boogeymen that still hang around from our childhoods, and they come from things that happen to us as grown-ups. Nightmares come from the secrets, and the things we don't talk about. Or can't.

Jarod has secrets, more than most. When I let myself think about that part of him, though, I know that his secrets are part of what keeps us together. Isn't that weird? He asked me out that first time, handing me the box of Apple Jacks, because he thought I was cute. He comes back to me because I have secrets, too.

Tracey thought, early on, that Jarod was married. Or had someone else on the side, maybe. He fit the pattern in some issue of Cosmo she read; she loves all those crappy magazines. She has time for all those crappy magazines, what with not having kids. But she doesn't think that any more. She sees how good he is with Charlie, and how he treats me.

I wondered too, at first, but I look at him and I feel his hand in mine when we take a walk and I just know it's not in him.

Eventually, there'll be a day when he doesn't come back any more. When that little house of his is empty, and all the strays he feeds have to find other ways to survive. I know that. There's a big piece of him that's always somewhere else, and I try not to let myself wonder about it too much. Is it another woman, an ex? Or maybe it's bigger than that, bigger than one person.

Of course I wonder. His nightmares hold things he'll never tell me about. When he goes still at the sight of someone, when he disappears in a crowd, when we're in the middle of dinner and he goes away in his head... I can't fight his ghosts. But he does come home to me. Maybe there aren't as many ghosts when he's here.

So why am I going on like this? I know I sound like I'm trying to convince myself of something. I am. Because Jarod's been gone more than a month this time, and he didn't leave anything at my place, and he hasn't called, or sent Charlie a silly postcard like he does sometimes. He's just gone.

I went by his house yesterday. I told myself I was going to check on things; I do try to go by once a week or so. I'm not sure what I expected to find, or see. His stuff was still there. Nothing's moved; the book he was reading was still face-down on the couch, his bed still wasn't made. I made it, just for something to do.

There'll be a day when he doesn't come back any more. I know that. I'm not stupid.

But... please, don't let it be that day just yet. I'm not ready.

Send me feedback. Yeah, baby.
Return to the main Pretender fiction page.