Author’s notes at the end.
 
 

So strange are the ways

They all have changed

Still life, it stayed the same

A break from the past

Could make it last

Oh maybe just a little longer

      Something is ringing. Loudly. I thumpmy hand out, hitting warmth. Jarod. He moans as he comes awake, pickingup the phone and passing it to me. He shifts again, obviously trying toget back to sleep.

"What." I say into the phone, my voice sleepy.

"Miss Parker. There’s been a sighting of Jarod." Broots responds nervously.I look at the form beside me, dozing. I poke him in the ribs.

"What the hell are you doing at the Centre in the middle of the night?"I demand, my heart speeding up. Jarod’s eyes open, shining in the dim lightof my alarm clock. Four am, it says. I suppress a moan.

"Lyle called me in to trace a lead. It seems that Nia woman in Oregonhas a visitor who fits Jarod’s description." Broots gushes in my ear. Iturn to look at Jarod. He blinks at me sleepily, and pushes some hair offmy face. I smile at him. I love his eyes. His laughing eyes are a memoryI’ll keep with me forever. At least I’m not drunk anymore. He doesn’t smileback.

"Hang on, Mr Lyle wants to talk to you..." Broots leaves the phone abruptly.

"It’s a sure thing, sis. Are you in? We could have them by morning,probably at it like rabbits." he demands. I almost chuckle at the thought.Jarod raises his eyebrows at me. Slides his hand up the back of my thigh.I suck in my breath. Lyle misinterprets the sound.

"What’s wrong? Jealous?" he bites out viciously. Jarod squeezes my ass.

"Not at all, Lyle. I have no reason to be jealous." No reason at all,since the man himself is here with me.

"Tell me that description." I demand. I really don’t want to get upunless I have to. Lyle sighs.

"Hear it for yourself, I’ll put us on conference." Lyle barks. I waitas Lyle fiddles around, finally hearing a click and the sound of anotherperson’s breathing on the line.

"John? Say it again for Miss Parker." I recognise the name, a sweeperwho was under me years ago. He was insolent and I had him reassigned. Apparentlyhe got the shit detail, watching the same woman for years in case a nomadiclover should return.

"Tall man with dark features, M’am. She embraced him like a lover andhe hasn’t left yet. He was carrying a silver case." John says. He was neverthis obedient before.

"His arm, John, his left arm. Was there anything wrong with it?" Jarodlooks up at me, touching his own bandage.

"No M’am. That man was healthy as a horse." John answers. Lyle swears.

"Thank you John." I say coolly, and wait for the dial tone as he hangsup.

"It’s not him Lyle. I shot his left arm. The little slut probably justfound some other genius to play with. Don’t monitor her house anymore,Jarod’s not ever going back to Oregon." Jarod grins as he realises whoI’m talking about. He kisses my shoulder, and I can tell he’s trying notto laugh.

"Fine. Goodnight." Lyle growls. I hear Broots squeak something in thebackground, then the line is dead. I pass the receiver back to Jarod, whoreplaces it in its cradle. I sink back into bed again. Jarod curls up besideme. He sighs into my ear.

"You were jealous." He whispers, and I nod.

"I hated her. It should have been me." I whisper back. Jarod puts hishand on my hip. I realise that somehow, sometime during the night he’sgotten naked.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t love her. Not like I loveyou. That’s why I gave you Thomas. Tit for tat." I sigh, not answering,and turn into his arms for comfort. I kiss his lips and rub against himfor comfort, but he holds back.

"You were scared of me tonight." He says sadly. Shame creeps hot acrossmy face.

"I was drunk. I got lost between you and another." I tell him, but he’snot buying.

"You were afraid of *me*, Parker." He accuses.

"Maybe. A little." I whisper. He pulls me close and kisses my temple.

"I don’t understand." He mumbles. I run my hands through the hair onhis chest, scraping my fingernails over his flat nipples.

"Neither do I. Not really." He grunts with pleasure under my ministrations,and sweeps his hand up to play with my breasts.

"I dream about you sometimes." He tells me. He’s moving, almost imperceptibly,to cover my body with his own.

"What do you dream?" I part my legs a little, so one of his thighs slipsbetween mine.

"I dream of little children. Our little children. It haunts me." Painlances through me at his words. I stroke my hands down his back. It hurtsboth of us to know Jarod can never have children.

"Many couples adopt." He kisses my neck and chuckles.

"Is that a proposal? Could it be that you are suggesting a commitment?"he asks in amusement. His hand is doing delightful things to my left breast.I sigh in pleasure.

"No. Somehow I could never picture us doing the Great American Dreamthing. Could you?" he shakes his head, and kisses me on the lips passionately.He shifts his weight and both of his legs end up between mine, my hipscradling his pelvis. He sighs contentedly, grinding his body into mine.I pant, hot and hungry.

"Don’t tease." I growl and he laughs.

"What do you want?" he asks teasingly. Then he asks again, serious.

"What do you want?" he demands. I choke on my breath and drag my nailsdown his back. He gasps.

"You. I want you, I always wanted you!" I whisper hoarsely, and he nodsin satisfaction, rearing back to thrust himself in my body. This is different,different than we’ve ever had before, and he sets a slow and steady pace,kissing my face and neck over and over again, hot, wet but gentle kisses.It almost feels like making love but that shouldn’t happen with peoplelike us.

"Jarod" I whisper and arch my body to his, and he keeps going as I windmy legs around him to draw him closer, deeper, my whole body is thrummingwith excitement, slow and steady but that’s not good enough. I whisperto him, please Jarod harder, please Jarod deeper, and the its please Jarod.Please. Please. Please. But he stays slow and gentle and damn him I’llcry, and damn him I am crying, while my body bucks beneath him and I’msobbing his name over and over, I’ve lost control again!

      He cries my name as he comes into mybody and I shudder under him and cradle his weight as I sob. Hunter/Hunted.He wins.

Now there’s nothing to prove

A message from the crowd to the shore baby

And it feels now just like

Heavens coming down

Your soul

Shakes free

As its conscience hits the ground

      We shower together. Jarod and I can’tseem to escape the shower. But unlike the last two times in the showertogether we are playful. He presses eager kisses to my skin and laughsin my hair. I’m almost fascinated by this new level of comfort betweenus. I’m wary too. Is this Jarod’s new way of trying to keep me? I knowhe must have suspicions about my behaviour towards him recently. Does heknow? He couldn’t.

      I wash Jarod’s hair with my feminineshampoos and he wrinkles his nose. He soaps me all over with rose scentedlotions and tickles my ribs. I laugh and bite his neck. He gets a goofygrin on his face which doesn’t fade as we towel each other dry. I willenjoy these moments, these memories, forever.

      And I’ll wear the blue dress for him.

You surrender

Love under will

Rest assured baby

You’re adored

And it feels now just like

Heaven’s coming down

Your soul

Shakes free

As its conscience hits the ground

      He is cooking me French toast, with amazingskill. He smiles as he throws another soggy piece of bread into the skilletwith a flourish.

"I was a chef once." He explains, and I nod, content to sit with mysteaming coffee and watch the morning sun gleam in his hair. He didn’tsneak away like a thief in the night. He’s cooking me breakfast!

      I have a rostered day off today, andam even considering asking him to stay another night. He might. He’s lookingawfully distracted by something in the paper, however. He’s attemptingto read something without letting the toast burn. I smile, and for a momentmy vision is clouded with an image of Tommy doing the same thing. I chokeon my coffee.

"You okay?" Jarod asks casually, and the image is gone. I nod slowly,rubbing my eyes to clear them. The phone rings, and absently I pick itup. I warn Jarod to be silent with a finger over my lips. He nods.

"What?" I demand, keeping in character. There is a sigh on the line.If this is some sicko pranking me.

"Accident." A voice breathes. I place my coffee back on the bench.

"Angelo?" I whisper in surprise. Jarod steps over to me, the toast burningbehind him.

"Hurt. Sydney hurt." He mutters, and the line goes dead. My hand beginsto shake, and I quickly dial. Someone answers after two rings.

"Lyle." My brother mutters.

"Where’s Sydney." I demand. Lyle breathes in sharply.

"How did you know?" he asks in surprise. Jarod has gone pale, watchingme.

"Where is he!" I cry, and Jarod’s arm goes around me in support. Myheart is beating hard in my chest, I’m so afraid. I put the call on speakerphone,so Jarod can hear.

"There was an accident. He’s on his way to the hospital now, I was goingto call you once I got there" Lyle pauses, breathing deeply. "It doesn’tlook good. St. Mary’s, I suggest you get there soon..."

"I swear, brother, if you had anything to do with this.." I begin, andLyle cuts me off with a bark of harsh laughter.

"Always a conspiracy, sister. Well let me assure, sister, I am justas worried as you are." Jarod is turning red with fury beside me. I slapmy hand over his mouth to prevent him from giving us both away.

"Oh don’t tell me you and Syd became best friends when I wasn’t looking."I snarl.

"No. But asides from you, Sydney is one of the last ties binding Jarodto the Centre. He’ll be even harder to catch without Syd. Now get yourass to the hospital....before the last rites."

These signs

This fate

Takes a path you didn’t choose

Stay strong

Keep faith

There’s a change that’s coming through

      He’s not catholic. Last rites? Sydney’snot catholic. I don’t even know what denomination Sydney is. Maybe Lyle’scatholic like me and just assumed"

"I’m coming." Jarod whispers beside me. Somehow he’s gotten dressedwhile I was in a mad scramble for shoes, jacket purse and keys. I starein surprise. Not even catholic"

"Like hell you are!" I pull my jacket on, run a brush through my hairand bolt back downstairs. Something’s burning. Last rites?

"Get the toast off the stove, grab your stuff and get out of here. Youcan’t come with me to the hospital." I stop breathing for a moment, myvision assaulted by images of Sydney hurt and bloody (last rites) and hewas more than a father to me than my real father ever was (our father whoart in heaven) and he can’t die dammit!

"I love him too!" Jarod cries passionately. Turn off the stove myselfand throw the toast in the bin. Lock all the doors, the windows, out tothe garage. Jarod’s little red sporty thing sits beside my black Boxter.

"But I won’t let you die for him. I won’t loose you both." Alarm set,keys, keys, keys.. pocket! The garage door opens with a low groan. I’m goingto groan in a minute. I’m going to scream.

"Parker!" Jarod mewls behind me. He needs to be gone. Forever. I’vehad enough. The pain, the tears, the fear, the memories, the smothering,suffocating distrust. The camel’s back is well and truly broken. I roundon him.

"Get lost Jarod, get it? Get off my property and don’t be here whenI get home. Do the batman thing and hang off the window sill in the hospital,whatever, just don’t get seen." I take a deep breath. Everything is dying.Me, on the inside. Jarod and I. Sydney. It’s time to let it go. There mustbe (last rites) boundaries.

"It’s over Jarod. I don’t want to see you anymore. Our love is Red Death,Jarod. It’s killing me. It’s over. Don’t call me." I gasp out and he startscrying, no weeping, for that’s a far more passionate word for the painin his eyes. I tuck my cell phone in my bag and slide into my car and screechaway. I won’t look back, but I can see his pale face in the rear-view mirror.Last rites. Hunter/Hunted. I don’t want to play anymore.

Hold on

My love

(feels like heaven’s coming down)

Hold on

My love

(feels like heaven’s coming down)

Hold on

 My love

      I drop the cell phone and pull off theroad. It’s all over. I kill the engine and lean my head on my hands, sobbinglike there’s no tomorrow. Maybe there isn’t. Not when I’m afraid and aloneand everything has gone to hell. Jarod probably hates me and maybe that’sa good thing, Lyle is furious that a Centre employee should go and dieon him and I’m...I’m headed straight for the tinfoil hat store.

      He didn’t even get the last rites I obsessedover, Lyle told me. Major coronary. He wasn’t that young. Blood loss. Fracturedcranium and this and that and blah blah blah, at the end of the day Sydneyis dead, just plain dead, dead like Momma and dead like Thomas. Stone colddead.

"No..." my own voice says, and I rock my face on my palms. It hurts inside,and I’m being eaten from the inside out by my own darkness. No more smiles,no more quiet chuckles from the darkness. Jarod has the DSA’s and I havenothing, nothing at all, a void where he used to be and I’m not breathingproperly and I’m tired and sad and I’ve lost him, oh god I’ve lost him!I’ve lost him.

I’ve lost both of them.
 

Feels like heaven's coming down...
 
 

Fini.
 
 

Author's notes: Yup. I killed Sydney. I didn't even put a characterdeath notice at the start of the story...I'm evil:) Not at all ashamed,I didn't want to spoil the ending. And yes, there is still another twostories to go in the series, being written now, keep an eye out. Thankyouto the lovely people who have sent me feedback, especially Keeper March:)You know why. My ego is still recovering, lol.

And thank you to R. Schultz, who, although he doesn't know it yet, inspiredme to break my long creative dry spell with the beauty of his writing:)This whole series came about because of you:)

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