Note: Challenge response.
Author's Notes: Well Mickey, I told you I'd write a response. . . And I did. :) This is unbeta’d, because my poor beta reader is currently swamped with a different, non-Pretender fic. Poor thing (hint hint). . .
Summary: Miss Parker finds a photo from the past, prompting long suppressed memories of happier times to surface.
Miss Parker sighed and threw open her door, which cracked against the wall with a resounding thud. She was finally home. It was nearly midnight and she had just gotten off of work. Wonder Boy decided to lead them on a wild goose chase throughout the Midwest. She'd be sure to thank him for exposing her to that culture. She could swear she smelled like a hick now, thanks to Jarod.
She violently closed the door, rattling the windows. She stormed to her room and threw off her shoes, smiling slightly as they slammed against the wall. She tried to remember why exactly she had chosen to wear six-inch heels that day. Her feet were killing her, almost literally.
It would be her luck to be killed by foot pain. And, of course, it would be Jarod's fault. Everything was his fault, in her world.
She walked into the bathroom, removing her suit jacket and turning on the hot water. She desperately needed a bath. A nice, soothing, relaxing bath. Of course, it was at that moment that something just had to happen.
A rock came sailing in through her bedroom window, shattering the glass. She pulled out her gun and ran to the window, avoiding the shards of glass. She looked out but saw no one. No sign of the person who had thrown the rock through her window, shattering it into diamond-like pieces.
Of course, she knew who it was. It was Jarod. And he would pay. Oh yes, he would pay the next time she saw him. If she saw him, that is. She put the gun on her nightstand and retrieved the rock, peeling the envelope that was attached off.
She swore underneath her breath at the sight of Jarod's writing. Damn bastard. He had disturbed her tranquility, even if it was only for a few minutes.
She swore aloud and ran into the bathroom, remember that she had left the water running. It had filled almost to the top, but not enough to run over. Thank God she had remembered. Having to clean up her bathroom in the middle of the night was not her idea of a good time.
She walked back to the bedroom, looking at the rock and envelope lying on her bed in disdain. She didn't want to find out what was in there. She probably didn't even need to know what was in there, knowing Jarod.
Of course, her natural curiosity won out and she walked over, grasping the envelope in her hands. She placed a finger underneath the seal and slowly slid it open, exposing the contents. She reached in and pulled out a letter. As she pulled it out, a picture dropped out.
Her heart stopped for a minute, or at least it felt that way. It was a picture from a lifetime ago. She reached a shaky hand out and gingerly touched the picture, expecting Jarod to jump from the shadows and laugh in her face. He would do that, the bastard.
She blinked and looked at the picture, realizing that the quality was better than the one she had hidden away. It was, of course, the same picture from that fateful day. She would never forget it, no matter how hard she tried. She heavily sat down on the bed, blinking back the rare tears that had found their way through her barriers. She began to remember what had happened that day, and found herself crying.
"Parker? C'mon. . . it'll be fun!"
"Oh, I don't know, Jarod. We really shouldn't even be out here. You could get in trouble!"
"Mm-hmm. But it's all worth it for you, my love," he said, grinning and pulling her closer to him. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, which, if they weren't careful, could get very out of control. His stubble brushed against her cheek, causing her to grin slightly. She ran her fingers through his hair, loving that The Centre was letting him grow it out, even if was only for a pretend.
She pulled back, gasping for breath.
"Oh, all right. One picture. But only one. We have to get back after this."
He smiled broadly and eagerly ran down the corridor in the museum. She happily followed, allowing herself to be pulled down the corridor by the ever-enthusiastic Jarod.
When they reached the photographer, they grinned and gave him what he asked of for one picture. She squealed happily and led Jarod over to the perfect area. She made him sit down first and then sat down on his lap, wrapping one arm around his shoulder. They smiled at the camera and it flashed in front of their faces, causing them to blink seconds after the flash.
After that, all hell broke loose. There were sweepers. Sweepers everywhere. They pulled the two apart roughly. Their day had ended on a very low note.
Jarod was dragged back to The Centre, while Miss Parker was allowed to stay behind. They didn't know about the picture, and the photographer had been to afraid to say anything about it. She took the picture and hid it at the Parker summer house, knowing that nobody would be able to find it.
She wiped away a tear at the memory and opened the letter. There, in Jarod's scrawl, were the words:
She could have become a waterfall, she was crying so hard. He remembered. Even after what Raines had done to him, he remembered! She was happy, in some ways. But she was also sad because she knew that they could never have anything. At least not yet. They must still remain to be the Hunter and the Hunted.
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