This is just a bit of a story, and it's completely rated G. Sequels in progress.

I don't own these characters or the premise of the show. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and no infringement is intended. Feel free to distribute this electronically with all comments and disclaimers in place and without revision. Please do not reproduce in print without my permission. Please do not archive; archive links to this page are welcome.

Thanks to Kelly for reading and commenting. Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism, praise or extravagant gifts to kirbyfest@yahoo.com.

***

The sunlight woke Miss Parker from a dark, jumbled dream, and she rubbed her eyes hard to chase it away. Yet another night of restless sleep. She almost couldn't remember what it felt like to wake up refreshed and untroubled.

Finally, she opened her eyes-- reluctantly-- and when her vision cleared she sat up quickly, taking everything in like a cornered animal.

This was not her bedroom. It was far too cheerful.

If she'd been kidnapped, this was the nicest prison she could imagine. The walls of the small room were a muted blue with white trim; the bedding was white and pillowy and snowy soft. The furniture was simple, and other than an overnight bag on a wicker chair the room was empty of clutter.

She was wearing white cotton pajamas. Cotton was certainly not her usual choice, but they were comfortable and she saw a robe tossed across the end of the bed.

Time to explore. Time to find out where the hell she was.

Slipping the robe on, she padded barefoot to the door and tried the knob quietly. It turned easily; if she was a captive this wasn't the final barrier. Slowly, carefully she opened the door and peered out.

It looked like a perfectly ordinary living room-- not large, but comfortably furnished with books and pillows scattered around. There were bright flowers on two of the tables; warm bursts of color that were spotlighted by sunshine pouring through the unshaded windows.

Miss Parker leaned against the door frame, surveying the room, her arms crossed. Where in the world was she?

She smelled coffee half a heartbeat before a woman bustled through a doorway to the left, carrying two steaming mugs. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I thought you weren't going to get out of bed all day."

Miss Parker's heart skipped a beat, then nearly stopped.

It was her mother.

Catherine Parker didn't seem to notice that her daughter had turned sheet-white and was hanging onto the door frame for dear life. "I made some toast. I'll be right back." She was gone as quickly as she'd come.

It was her mother! What kind of a sick joke was this? It wasn't the same Catherine Parker from her childhood, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind that her mother-- her dead mother-- was the woman who'd left two mugs on the coffee table. The woman was older, her hair shorter and streaked with grey, soft lines around her eyes, her figure rounder than it had been. But it was her mother, or someone who looked terrifyingly like her.

The smile from the woman who'd returned, holding a plate of toast, couldn't possibly have belonged to anyone but her mother.

Catherine Parker put the toast on the table. "Eat, sweetheart," she chided her daughter. "You must be exhausted..."

Miss Parker bolted across the room and interrupted her with a fierce hug, holding her mother so tightly that she probably couldn't breathe. She didn't know or care how this had happened-- it was her mother. Her mother. The scent of Joy and the faint smell of talcum powder combined to bring scalding tears to Miss Parker's eyes. If this was a fake... But it wasn't a fake. She wasn't.

Catherine Parker hugged her in return, one hand reaching up to stroke her daughter's hair. "Honey, are you all right?"

Not wanting to let go, but knowing she'd have to eventually, Miss Parker buried her face in her mother's hair for just a moment. She breathed deeply before backing off, smiling through her tears. "I'm fine, Mom. Just fine."

"You're more tired than I thought," said Catherine worriedly, her eyes searching her daughter's face. She pressed food and drink into her hands. "Here. I'm going to go make you some eggs. You need protein, and don't argue with me."

Ignoring Parker's protests, she bustled back into what must be the kitchen. Parker stared blankly at the plate in her hand, then looked up at the window.

This was some twisted game Raines was playing on her. Or Lyle, the sick bastard. Her mother was dead-- she'd replayed that night a thousand, a million times in her head, heard her own screams echoing around her as she saw her mother's crumpled body on the floor of the elevator. Dead, not making her breakfast.

Miss Parker was used to things not making any sense, but this was ridiculous.

A doorbell interrupted her confused thoughts. "Can you get that, honey?" called her mother.

Miss Parker looked around-- where was the door? There. Tying the robe more closely around herself, she went to the door, swung it open.

"Good morning, gorgeous."

It was Jarod.

He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Did you just roll out of bed?" He slipped by her, throwing his jacket over a brass coat tree. "It's after noon," he advised her as he turned around, one eyebrow raised.

Miss Parker shut the door, leaning against it. Her eyes searched Jarod's face, looking for-- what? Deception? All she could see was warmth.

Miss Parker ran a hand through her hair, turning away from Jarod and going back to the couch. She curled up in the corner, watching as Jarod followed her over to the sofa, sitting easily down beside her.

"What's wrong?" Jarod asked, putting his hand lightly on her arm. Miss Parker stopped herself from flinching, from visibly reacting to his touch.

"Nothing." She looked down at his hand, thinking, before meeting his eyes again. "I had a weird dream. It's just sticking with me, I guess."

"That's because you were sleeping alone," Jarod whispered, a gleam in his eyes.

She smiled in return, finally letting the warmth of the sunshine show in her face, finally letting her heart believe that this might be the truth. Could this be the life she was supposed to live? That nightmare world of chasing and hurting and loneliness seemed very far away, and fading fast.

And if it was just a dream, who the hell cared? Their hands met and tangled together, and the warm roughness of his skin was something she'd been wanting for years without even realizing it.

Catherine Parker bustled back into the room, setting down coffee and plates of food in front of them. "Eat, Jarod." She smiled at the two of them. "So. Tell me how everything went back east."

Jarod glanced at Miss Parker and she shook her head, squeezing his hand. She had no idea how to answer her mother's question. "Why don't you tell her, Jarod? I'm still a little out of it." Maybe his answer could enlighten her, too.

Jarod raised his eyebrows, and Catherine sighed. "She never sleeps well after you two have been near the Centre."

"I wonder why," Jarod muttered, and Miss Parker heard a darkness in his voice that reminded her of the other world she'd dreamed about, of that other life that still seemed so real-- but it couldn't be, could it?

Catherine smiled gently at Jarod, and the warmth of her smile lightened Jarod's face and made Miss Parker catch her breath. "There's almost nothing left, Jarod, thanks to both of you. We're winning."

"We haven't won yet," Jarod said, taking a long drink from his mug. His words were grim, but he sounded less angry than before.

"No, but we will," Miss Parker said suddenly, her voice sharp and determined. The resolve in her voice was so fierce that both her mother and Jarod looked surprised. "We will. If we don't, I have a good idea of what the Centre is capable of doing-- who they're capable of destroying."

Catherine Parker settled back in her chair, tucking her feet up under her in a movement Miss Parker remembered so clearly from her childhood. "Well, we won't let that happen. None of us will. They nearly destroyed Jarod, you, me... Who knows how many others. But we'll beat them in the end." She grinned. "We've already beat them in a thousand different ways."

Miss Parker looked around the sunlit room-- at her mother, at Jarod-- and suddenly she was fighting back tears. "How could we possibly lose?"

The end

***

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