Author’s Note: Dudes, this is one of my oldest tP fics! Wow! Simply awesome. Oh, um, there’s character death. So, now you’re forewarned. :)
Summary: Sometimes tragedy is the only thing that can heal a broken friendship.
It was cold, dark, and damp the day of the funeral. The sun wasn't shining and the clouds looked dark and foreboding. The perfect day for a funeral.
Miss Parker was sitting in the back row, her mask of ice up, blocking out all the pain she should be feeling at his death. He was, to her, the father she never had and was a mentor to her. Well, not just to her, Jarod as well. And even her mother. But she didn't want to think about that.
Broots was sitting beside her, bawling his eyes out, while Debbie sat beside him, mourning a man she never knew.
Jarod was seated in a tree a bit away from the mourners. Tears had stained his face and his eyes looked tired and lost. He silently sat there and watched as they lowered him into the ground.
He watched as Miss Parker went and dropped a single red rose on his casket.
He watched as everyone from The Centre departed except for Miss Parker.
He watched as she broke down in front of the fresh grave.
Miss Parker was kneeling on the ground in front of his grave, too engrossed in her own thoughts and tears to hear him approach from behind her. She finally noticed him when he, too, dropped a red rose on the fresh grave. She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, to tired to care that her most elusive prey was standing right next to her.
She couldn't say anything; her mouth was dry and it just hurt too much to say anything at that moment. So she settled for simply watching her childhood friend break down the same way she did and collapse to the ground next to her. No words were spoken between the two as they wrapped their arms around each other and held the other close, letting out their grief.
They stayed that way for some time until Jarod whispered quietly in her ear that he had to go; that the others would come looking for her. She nodded her head in understanding and let him go—their small truce at an end. She watched his receding back as he walked away, knowing that tomorrow she would have to start the hunt for him again.
She got up and collected herself, brushing her clothes straight and walked back to her car. She then began the drive back to The Centre, putting up the mask of ice once again.
But, the hunt would no longer be the same. There would be one less member in their little group, the one that had meant the most to Jarod. Miss Parker figured that he would eventually just disappear, not having anything connecting him to the Centre anymore.
Hopefully, when that day came, she would be able to leave the Centre, but not in the same way as Sydney did. She hoped, anyway.
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