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bantha_fodderIts Bloody Tip, A Signpost by Pen.
The Pretender, Gar, PG.
This is fic about Gar, the albino sweeper who dies in the fire SL-27. He's creepy, and I don't know what came over me, but I blame the OTP. I hesitantly thank![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
piecesofalice, who may not wish to be thanked for this.
**
Gar is thirty years old when he is approached by the Centre. He's worked for thugs and low level movie stars, but he's never actually had the opportunity to seriously maim someone.
He doesn't hesitate.
**
The Centre is everything he's ever expected from a secret organisation. He moves halfway across the country and tells his neighbours that he's moving to Spain. His pager buzzes at two am, and by sunrise he's shot his gun twice and broken someone else's arm.
He works fucking hard. He learns quickly not to network, because knowing the wrong people can get you killed, but he does his job and he does what he's told and he doesn't lose sleep over it.
He likes his house. He buys a townhouse half an hour from the Centre, and it's close enough for those early morning calls, but far enough away that driving out there feels like enough. He spends the first weekend painting his kitchen; spends the second reassuring his mother that she's welcome to visit.
Gar lies.
**
He's been at the Centre three years when Jarod escapes. Three years is forever in a corporation, but it's nothing in the Centre, filled as it is with people who come and never leave.
He's in the lobby when she arrives; her hair sits perfectly on her head and her heels add three inches to her height as she walks through the doors. Her reputation and the click, click on the floor precede her and she looks, glares, turns away.
She steps into the lift, and he steps in behind her. "This lift is not for sharing," she says, and he nods, but does not say a word.
She rolls her eyes, and as the doors close, presses the buttons without looking, without pausing.
He can see she knows where she's going.
**
He never meets the elusive Mister Parker, with his well-shined shoes and his array of ties, but he sees him: in his car at midnight; surrounded by advisors in the lobby; resting his hand on his daughter's cheek.
Miss Parker frowns behind her father's back; lights a cigarette and snaps at her secretary.
**
He's paid to be the muscle and he's paid to not fuck up; he's been around long enough to understand that means being paid to watch, and being paid to learn. He learns to watch the lobby; learns to watch who comes and who goes and the things that they carry.
Miss Parker carries no purse or bag, but the chip she carries on her shoulder is clear in the late morning light.
"Miss Parker," stammers the geek, Broots. "I've been trying to get in contact with you all morning. Jarod - " The doors to the lift slide close, and the last thing Gar sees is Miss Parker's sneer at Jarod's name.
**
He visits Sydney's laboratory; watches the twins put through their paces.
In pain; in pleasure; in nothing but idle confusion the twins stand there. "And now," the doctor says, and looks up, meets Gar's eyes.
"This is a private experiment," the doctor says, and closes the door.
Gar doesn't mind. He's seen enough.
**
Miss Parker pauses by the door, her phone to her ear. "No," she says. "You can't. Jarod!" She screams the name of her prey, hangs up in disgust.
Suspicion curls through his stomach. "He calls you," Gar says, to see what she will say.
"He tortures me," she replies; pushes past him and into the building.
Gar smiles.
**
After the events on the roof; after Miss Parker explicitly disregards her orders and keeps Bridgette from doing her job, he looks closer at the security of the Centre.
What he sees worries him; errors and holes and gaps he could walk through, and he starts to whisper waves.
**
Mister Raines invites him to meet. "Your work has been pleasing me," he wheezes, pauses.
Gar has learned not to fill the silences with words that might get him killed; he tilts his head, waits.
"Where do you see yourself in the Centre?" Mister Raines asks.
Gar smiles, a long, slow grin. "Security," he says with confidence. "Head of Security."
Mister Raines nods, like maybe he understands. "See that you earn it," he says. "Welcome to the team."
**
"But, Daddy," Miss Parker whines.
"Now, Angel," Mister Parker says, his hand on her shoulder. "You and I both know your work in bringing Jarod back in is more important than dinner. You have to follow this lead. We can have dinner when you bring Jarod home."
Mister Parker leaves, surrounded as he always is by advisors and guards. Miss Parker frowns; taps her phone.
Goes out the front door, not back to her office, and Gar wonders.
**
FedEx delivers packages wrapped in golden foil, bulky envelopes and crates filled with shit. He intercepts a guy; "I can take that to Miss Parker," Gar says, and the guy shrugs.
"Sign here," and he does, a graceless, unreadable scrawl.
In the elevator, watched by the cameras, he opens the envelope to find it filled with photos.
He leaves it on the desk in Miss Parker's office, carelessly sealed. Knows she will not even realise it has been opened.
**
He reads Jarod's files; watches what DSAs were left behind. Jarod's finished work is endless, and Gar knows he'll never understand it all; Jarod's unfinished work is priceless, and Gar knows what Jarod is worth to the Centre.
He watches young Miss Parker press her hand up to the glass; thinks about her phone calls and her gifts and he knows.
**
He travels across the country, Baltimore and New York and piddly little towns in between. He taps phonecalls and reads email and once, he tortures a guy, some guy Jarod knows, but like everyone Jarod helps the guy is weak, spills everything that Gar needs to know and it's not so fun.
He shrugs it off; knows he'll get another chance.
**
He's meeting with Mister Raines when a news report catches his eye; Jarod at the First Bank of Dover, on a Thursday.
He exchanges a look with Mister Raines. "Call for the car," Mister Raines says. "We cannot let Jarod speak with Fennigor."
In the car they watch Sydney and Broots wander past; "You know what that means," Mister Raines says, and elaborates, like maybe he doesn't. "Parker."
Gar knows what it means; knows it's no coincidence.
Wonders if Miss Parker knows where her loyalties lie.
**
Jarod escapes. Of course he does. "He was right here," Miss Parker says, "and you got in my way," but Gar knows that she lies.
**
The trail doesn't go cold after that, though it usually does. They track Jarod across the country; it's sloppy, and Gar almost thinks that Jarod wants to be found. Though the tantilising closeness of finding Jarod leaves Mister Raines continually irritable, Gar is disappointed; he thought Jarod would be more, would be stronger, not so weak.
At NuGenesis he finds a placard; Dr Jarod Spock it says, and beside it sits a familiar cigarette, smoke still coiling to the ceiling.
He grins, and the thrill of the chase thrums back through his veins.
**
In a little motel he finds them, the jackpot. The idiot savant and the missing boy would make Raines happy under any circumstances, but Jarod stands facing Miss Parker, her arm outstretched and her gun hidden, and the knowledge that he was right is almost enough.
**
On the tarmac, Jarod escapes. Miss Parker's gun dangles by her side, artfully innocent, like she meant to shoot Jarod and maybe he was just a little too fast, like maybe she was a victim of malfunctioning equipment. He imagines them, her hand on his arm and his lips on her skin as she betrays the Centre, and her father.
He fiddles with his gun; thinks about shooting her.
**
It takes him longer than he likes, but the traps in place trigger and Jarod's in the building, he knows he is. By the time he locates Jarod, Miss Parker is already there, and though her gun is drawn they're talking about things she shouldn't know, things she wouldn't know if she'd ever actually intended to take him down.
As they race the rush of heat through the Sub Level, he thinks, I'll get you yet.
He knows where his loyalties lie.
END
I have this theory, for which I use season two's finale 'Bloodlines' as evidence, that Gar though Miss Parker and Jarod had something going on. I have been trying to write this fic for about the last six months, but Gar is just so creepy.
The Pretender, Gar, PG.
This is fic about Gar, the albino sweeper who dies in the fire SL-27. He's creepy, and I don't know what came over me, but I blame the OTP. I hesitantly thank
piecesofalice, who may not wish to be thanked for this.**
Gar is thirty years old when he is approached by the Centre. He's worked for thugs and low level movie stars, but he's never actually had the opportunity to seriously maim someone.
He doesn't hesitate.
**
The Centre is everything he's ever expected from a secret organisation. He moves halfway across the country and tells his neighbours that he's moving to Spain. His pager buzzes at two am, and by sunrise he's shot his gun twice and broken someone else's arm.
He works fucking hard. He learns quickly not to network, because knowing the wrong people can get you killed, but he does his job and he does what he's told and he doesn't lose sleep over it.
He likes his house. He buys a townhouse half an hour from the Centre, and it's close enough for those early morning calls, but far enough away that driving out there feels like enough. He spends the first weekend painting his kitchen; spends the second reassuring his mother that she's welcome to visit.
Gar lies.
**
He's been at the Centre three years when Jarod escapes. Three years is forever in a corporation, but it's nothing in the Centre, filled as it is with people who come and never leave.
He's in the lobby when she arrives; her hair sits perfectly on her head and her heels add three inches to her height as she walks through the doors. Her reputation and the click, click on the floor precede her and she looks, glares, turns away.
She steps into the lift, and he steps in behind her. "This lift is not for sharing," she says, and he nods, but does not say a word.
She rolls her eyes, and as the doors close, presses the buttons without looking, without pausing.
He can see she knows where she's going.
**
He never meets the elusive Mister Parker, with his well-shined shoes and his array of ties, but he sees him: in his car at midnight; surrounded by advisors in the lobby; resting his hand on his daughter's cheek.
Miss Parker frowns behind her father's back; lights a cigarette and snaps at her secretary.
**
He's paid to be the muscle and he's paid to not fuck up; he's been around long enough to understand that means being paid to watch, and being paid to learn. He learns to watch the lobby; learns to watch who comes and who goes and the things that they carry.
Miss Parker carries no purse or bag, but the chip she carries on her shoulder is clear in the late morning light.
"Miss Parker," stammers the geek, Broots. "I've been trying to get in contact with you all morning. Jarod - " The doors to the lift slide close, and the last thing Gar sees is Miss Parker's sneer at Jarod's name.
**
He visits Sydney's laboratory; watches the twins put through their paces.
In pain; in pleasure; in nothing but idle confusion the twins stand there. "And now," the doctor says, and looks up, meets Gar's eyes.
"This is a private experiment," the doctor says, and closes the door.
Gar doesn't mind. He's seen enough.
**
Miss Parker pauses by the door, her phone to her ear. "No," she says. "You can't. Jarod!" She screams the name of her prey, hangs up in disgust.
Suspicion curls through his stomach. "He calls you," Gar says, to see what she will say.
"He tortures me," she replies; pushes past him and into the building.
Gar smiles.
**
After the events on the roof; after Miss Parker explicitly disregards her orders and keeps Bridgette from doing her job, he looks closer at the security of the Centre.
What he sees worries him; errors and holes and gaps he could walk through, and he starts to whisper waves.
**
Mister Raines invites him to meet. "Your work has been pleasing me," he wheezes, pauses.
Gar has learned not to fill the silences with words that might get him killed; he tilts his head, waits.
"Where do you see yourself in the Centre?" Mister Raines asks.
Gar smiles, a long, slow grin. "Security," he says with confidence. "Head of Security."
Mister Raines nods, like maybe he understands. "See that you earn it," he says. "Welcome to the team."
**
"But, Daddy," Miss Parker whines.
"Now, Angel," Mister Parker says, his hand on her shoulder. "You and I both know your work in bringing Jarod back in is more important than dinner. You have to follow this lead. We can have dinner when you bring Jarod home."
Mister Parker leaves, surrounded as he always is by advisors and guards. Miss Parker frowns; taps her phone.
Goes out the front door, not back to her office, and Gar wonders.
**
FedEx delivers packages wrapped in golden foil, bulky envelopes and crates filled with shit. He intercepts a guy; "I can take that to Miss Parker," Gar says, and the guy shrugs.
"Sign here," and he does, a graceless, unreadable scrawl.
In the elevator, watched by the cameras, he opens the envelope to find it filled with photos.
He leaves it on the desk in Miss Parker's office, carelessly sealed. Knows she will not even realise it has been opened.
**
He reads Jarod's files; watches what DSAs were left behind. Jarod's finished work is endless, and Gar knows he'll never understand it all; Jarod's unfinished work is priceless, and Gar knows what Jarod is worth to the Centre.
He watches young Miss Parker press her hand up to the glass; thinks about her phone calls and her gifts and he knows.
**
He travels across the country, Baltimore and New York and piddly little towns in between. He taps phonecalls and reads email and once, he tortures a guy, some guy Jarod knows, but like everyone Jarod helps the guy is weak, spills everything that Gar needs to know and it's not so fun.
He shrugs it off; knows he'll get another chance.
**
He's meeting with Mister Raines when a news report catches his eye; Jarod at the First Bank of Dover, on a Thursday.
He exchanges a look with Mister Raines. "Call for the car," Mister Raines says. "We cannot let Jarod speak with Fennigor."
In the car they watch Sydney and Broots wander past; "You know what that means," Mister Raines says, and elaborates, like maybe he doesn't. "Parker."
Gar knows what it means; knows it's no coincidence.
Wonders if Miss Parker knows where her loyalties lie.
**
Jarod escapes. Of course he does. "He was right here," Miss Parker says, "and you got in my way," but Gar knows that she lies.
**
The trail doesn't go cold after that, though it usually does. They track Jarod across the country; it's sloppy, and Gar almost thinks that Jarod wants to be found. Though the tantilising closeness of finding Jarod leaves Mister Raines continually irritable, Gar is disappointed; he thought Jarod would be more, would be stronger, not so weak.
At NuGenesis he finds a placard; Dr Jarod Spock it says, and beside it sits a familiar cigarette, smoke still coiling to the ceiling.
He grins, and the thrill of the chase thrums back through his veins.
**
In a little motel he finds them, the jackpot. The idiot savant and the missing boy would make Raines happy under any circumstances, but Jarod stands facing Miss Parker, her arm outstretched and her gun hidden, and the knowledge that he was right is almost enough.
**
On the tarmac, Jarod escapes. Miss Parker's gun dangles by her side, artfully innocent, like she meant to shoot Jarod and maybe he was just a little too fast, like maybe she was a victim of malfunctioning equipment. He imagines them, her hand on his arm and his lips on her skin as she betrays the Centre, and her father.
He fiddles with his gun; thinks about shooting her.
**
It takes him longer than he likes, but the traps in place trigger and Jarod's in the building, he knows he is. By the time he locates Jarod, Miss Parker is already there, and though her gun is drawn they're talking about things she shouldn't know, things she wouldn't know if she'd ever actually intended to take him down.
As they race the rush of heat through the Sub Level, he thinks, I'll get you yet.
He knows where his loyalties lie.
END
I have this theory, for which I use season two's finale 'Bloodlines' as evidence, that Gar though Miss Parker and Jarod had something going on. I have been trying to write this fic for about the last six months, but Gar is just so creepy.
