fic: conversations
Conversations, The Pretender, Jarod/Miss Parker, r, 1059 words, bloodlines au, not mine
A/N: porn battle, prompt: tear
“I saw your face when Angelo gave up his last treatment for Davy.“
Jarod, Bloodlines pt.2
They bid their goodbyes to Davy and his new family, the boy waves her not remembering that it was her who almost caused him to became a human sponge. It were Sydney’s words, not hers, she mostly is glad that she doesn’t have to use them in this case, but she’s unnerved too. Jarod glanced her way the whole time while explaining where Davy came from.
Parker isn’t sure what was he afraid of, that she would tell the truth, grab the boy and bring him to the Centre, or maybe he was afraid she would fall apart.
This whole experience felt surreal to her, here she was, helping Jarod to settle a former almost-Centre's experiment into new life, and during all that time her gun was safely hidden from anyone’s view. She had let Jarod defy the Centre, she watched as Angelo gave up his last hope for a normal life. She had watched and done nothing. Her mother had lost her life because she wanted to save Timmy and she had killed him all over again.
A lonely tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away before Jarod notices, grips the steering wheel more forcefully.
In the corner of her eye she could see him opening and closing his mouth, he wants to tell her it was not her fault, he wants to talk about her mother, that maybe she would be proud. He’s probably about to manipulate her into letting him go. She won’t let him, and she wants to be sure about that, wants at least know how to predict her own actions.
She still drives back to the motel, maybe to pack and maybe to finally have that conversation.
Angelo is sleeping soundly on the sofa, he’s holding onto toy frog Jarod bought for Davy at the airport, but in the end it was a parting gift for the empath, and Miss Parker watches his chest raise and fall and can’t help but imagine how it could all have ended. Another tear dares to come out and she quickly looks away, moves past Jarod into the bedroom.
There’s a large mirror in the corner and she catches her own reflection in it. She wants to see the same compassion her mother had, she wants to know how to be like her, how to help people instead of destroying them, but part of her still is a Parker.
Compassion is a weakness, as is love, and Miss Parker closes her eyes fighting tears and hating herself for them as well.
She opens them when she hears Jarod enter. He keeps silent, approaches her slowly and she tries to ignore the compassion, the pain, that she sees reflecting in front of her. He’s human, so much more human than she ever could be.
“Parker?” he whispers and she hears “are you okay?”, “what now?” and “please” all at once.
She prepares “no”, prepares herself to reach for her gun but he’s suddenly wiping out the tear that eventually won, and she loses her breath.
Their eyes meet in the mirror and for a second he looks guilty, but then his look changes to something different and Parker wants to run, turns sharply, ready for run, ready to call the Centre and end it all. Her movements only cause them to come closer and Jarod’s hands are on her face now because there are more tears coming.
She isn’t crying, as she didn’t cry back at the Oakview, the tears are flowing down her face but there is no sound, only raw sadness for everything she had lost, they had lost.
Jarod’s hands are warm, he palms her cheeks and even though she knows it’s coming, she releases a gasp when their lips touch. The contact is so soft and so short she think she might have imagine it. But Jarod is right there, just mere inches from her and his eyes are full of questions. When he leans back in, she knows he found the most important answer.
This time she expected him, crosses her arms over his shoulders and the kisses aren’t soft anymore, they’re rushed and passionate, tongues and lips and teeth and then they’re moving, both growing braver.
First, it’s his jacket, soon joined by hers and then Jarod is sitting on the bed and she’s climbing into his lap. He holds onto her hips, raises his head to capture her lips once again. She treads her hands into his hair, enjoys feeling him everywhere. It’s a new feeling because their actions could be words too.
“I don’t know how to be different, how to change,” she’s saying into his lips.
“I don’t know how to understand, how to let you be you,” he answers, his hands sneaking under her blouse, caressing the smooth skin of her lower back.
The distance between them becomes non-existent when she finally sits down and helps him get rid of his shirt, then hers, and it’s skin to skin now and more silent conversation, not promises, never promises just words they weren’t allowed to say.
“I’m sorry for what I caused to Angelo.”
“I’m sorry for mocking you with the identity of your brother.”
His kisses his way down her chest, turns them around without breaking the contact and when her head makes contact with the pillow, he finds the right pressure point with his finger.
“I hope you’ll find your family.”
“I hope you’ll find your peace.”
She draws him to her, pulls his face up and kisses him. It’s the last possible moment they can stop this, go back to being enemies, to ignore what had happened in those last 24 hours. And Miss Parker wonders if she could even consider it, she knows she would once her view would be clear, but she feels Jarod’s compassion in his touch, she feels warmth. She doesn’t want to let go.
She tells him her answer with another kiss, pushes herself lower and opens her legs wider. He answers her too, plant kisses on her chest, belly, on the inside of her thigh and leans back to slips out of his pants. Parker lets herself watch him, take in the sight she would want to forget tomorrow and stretches out her hand. He takes it.
A/N: porn battle, prompt: tear
“I saw your face when Angelo gave up his last treatment for Davy.“
Jarod, Bloodlines pt.2
They bid their goodbyes to Davy and his new family, the boy waves her not remembering that it was her who almost caused him to became a human sponge. It were Sydney’s words, not hers, she mostly is glad that she doesn’t have to use them in this case, but she’s unnerved too. Jarod glanced her way the whole time while explaining where Davy came from.
Parker isn’t sure what was he afraid of, that she would tell the truth, grab the boy and bring him to the Centre, or maybe he was afraid she would fall apart.
This whole experience felt surreal to her, here she was, helping Jarod to settle a former almost-Centre's experiment into new life, and during all that time her gun was safely hidden from anyone’s view. She had let Jarod defy the Centre, she watched as Angelo gave up his last hope for a normal life. She had watched and done nothing. Her mother had lost her life because she wanted to save Timmy and she had killed him all over again.
A lonely tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away before Jarod notices, grips the steering wheel more forcefully.
In the corner of her eye she could see him opening and closing his mouth, he wants to tell her it was not her fault, he wants to talk about her mother, that maybe she would be proud. He’s probably about to manipulate her into letting him go. She won’t let him, and she wants to be sure about that, wants at least know how to predict her own actions.
She still drives back to the motel, maybe to pack and maybe to finally have that conversation.
Angelo is sleeping soundly on the sofa, he’s holding onto toy frog Jarod bought for Davy at the airport, but in the end it was a parting gift for the empath, and Miss Parker watches his chest raise and fall and can’t help but imagine how it could all have ended. Another tear dares to come out and she quickly looks away, moves past Jarod into the bedroom.
There’s a large mirror in the corner and she catches her own reflection in it. She wants to see the same compassion her mother had, she wants to know how to be like her, how to help people instead of destroying them, but part of her still is a Parker.
Compassion is a weakness, as is love, and Miss Parker closes her eyes fighting tears and hating herself for them as well.
She opens them when she hears Jarod enter. He keeps silent, approaches her slowly and she tries to ignore the compassion, the pain, that she sees reflecting in front of her. He’s human, so much more human than she ever could be.
“Parker?” he whispers and she hears “are you okay?”, “what now?” and “please” all at once.
She prepares “no”, prepares herself to reach for her gun but he’s suddenly wiping out the tear that eventually won, and she loses her breath.
Their eyes meet in the mirror and for a second he looks guilty, but then his look changes to something different and Parker wants to run, turns sharply, ready for run, ready to call the Centre and end it all. Her movements only cause them to come closer and Jarod’s hands are on her face now because there are more tears coming.
She isn’t crying, as she didn’t cry back at the Oakview, the tears are flowing down her face but there is no sound, only raw sadness for everything she had lost, they had lost.
Jarod’s hands are warm, he palms her cheeks and even though she knows it’s coming, she releases a gasp when their lips touch. The contact is so soft and so short she think she might have imagine it. But Jarod is right there, just mere inches from her and his eyes are full of questions. When he leans back in, she knows he found the most important answer.
This time she expected him, crosses her arms over his shoulders and the kisses aren’t soft anymore, they’re rushed and passionate, tongues and lips and teeth and then they’re moving, both growing braver.
First, it’s his jacket, soon joined by hers and then Jarod is sitting on the bed and she’s climbing into his lap. He holds onto her hips, raises his head to capture her lips once again. She treads her hands into his hair, enjoys feeling him everywhere. It’s a new feeling because their actions could be words too.
“I don’t know how to be different, how to change,” she’s saying into his lips.
“I don’t know how to understand, how to let you be you,” he answers, his hands sneaking under her blouse, caressing the smooth skin of her lower back.
The distance between them becomes non-existent when she finally sits down and helps him get rid of his shirt, then hers, and it’s skin to skin now and more silent conversation, not promises, never promises just words they weren’t allowed to say.
“I’m sorry for what I caused to Angelo.”
“I’m sorry for mocking you with the identity of your brother.”
His kisses his way down her chest, turns them around without breaking the contact and when her head makes contact with the pillow, he finds the right pressure point with his finger.
“I hope you’ll find your family.”
“I hope you’ll find your peace.”
She draws him to her, pulls his face up and kisses him. It’s the last possible moment they can stop this, go back to being enemies, to ignore what had happened in those last 24 hours. And Miss Parker wonders if she could even consider it, she knows she would once her view would be clear, but she feels Jarod’s compassion in his touch, she feels warmth. She doesn’t want to let go.
She tells him her answer with another kiss, pushes herself lower and opens her legs wider. He answers her too, plant kisses on her chest, belly, on the inside of her thigh and leans back to slips out of his pants. Parker lets herself watch him, take in the sight she would want to forget tomorrow and stretches out her hand. He takes it.