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bantha_fodderthis rollercoaster, fic + soundtrack, words by pen, artwork by pieces
The Pretender, rated PG.
5 x 200 words of the ways it never ends between Parker and Jarod
OH SHOW <333
**
i. with nothing to recall
This is how it ends:
She chases him across the country; through shitty one-horse towns and smoggy, towering cities, and through beautiful sunsets across endless coastlines. She chases him, her brother one step, two steps, three steps behind.
She chases him, and she catches him in the early dawn light, his back against the wall and a grin on his face. "Parker-" he starts, and she kisses him, pushes, hopes the bricks cut into his back. She presses her nails into his skin, just to be sure.
Later, she rests her forehead against his, her hand on his wrist. She breathes out. "Parker," he whispers, and she cuffs him to a drainpipe. Behind her, she hears the screech of tyres and the call of her name. "Please," he says, stricken. "Parker, don't do this."
She grins. "Shut up, moron." She rests two fingers on the handcuff. "Don't turn back this time," she scolds as she steps away. She walks out of the alley, the clip of her heels loud on the pavement.
"Well?" asks Lyle, craning his head to peer into the alley. She doesn't look back.
"He got away," she says, and he does.
She doesn't see him again.
ii. heels that walk all over you
She steps out the main entrance, and the Centre is ashes around her, inmates off to homes and her father, nowhere to be seen. Lyle pauses beside her, his hands empty of trophies. "Admiring your work?" He gestures to the stockholder reports in her hand.
"I have never been prouder," she says, head held high. The sound of sirens floats on the breeze towards them, and Lyle dashes for his car. She grins, slides into her car and cruises away, the police cars speeding past. Behind her, smoke curls to the sky, and she hums, fiddles with her radio, pats the suitcase on the seat beside her.
Later, six thousand miles away, she leans back in her chair and stirs the fruit in her daiquiri. She smiles up at the sky: the sun warm on her face; a different name on her passport.
Her phone rings. "Mmm?" she answers, almost like she's already another person.
"Are you okay?" Jarod asks.
"Of course I am," she says.
"Does this mean…?" his voice trails off, and she pictures him, unsure of her, unsure of the world.
It brings her delight.
"Parkers always land on their feet," she says.
She ends the call.
iii. the clock ticking down
Lyle brings him in, bruised and battered and sad. Her stomach flutters, but she's seen it all before and she has a role to play: she laughs, strokes the point of her shoe down the curve of his arm. "Parker," Jarod says, and for a moment she almost believes that he hates her.
He passes out, and Lyle gestures at the sweepers. "Get him out of here," Lyle says. He turns to her. "Jealous?"
"Ten bucks says he escapes by dawn," she sneers. Lyle steps closer, steps until she can feel the cheap wool of his suit, but she refuses to move, refuses to show weakness to her brother.
"Twenty bucks says your career's over, Sis," he says, and grins at her.
In her office, she fiddles with her pen; answers email; yells at Broots. She thinks about what's going on, twenty three levels below, and on her monitor, she watches her brother torturing Jarod. She snaps her pencil in half; goes home.
Tomorrow, on her way in, she'll pass a body bag on its way to the morgue; she'll worry, know his cell is empty, but she won't have the heart to pull the plastic back.
He won't call.
iv. broken pieces on the ground
Worse than the kids starving on the streets; worse than the homeless and the disadvantaged; are those who help them, whose lives fall apart whilst they're serving soup, counselling lost souls and holding hands.
"I don't understand," he says, and down the phone her laughter is hollow.
"Why are you asking me?" she asks. "You know the Centre, just out for ourselves and our profits, don't care about the innocent."
He ignores her lie, keeps talking. "They're helping people, making the world right but their marriages fail and their parents hate them and they just keep on going."
"They're saving the world, Jarod," Parker says, her voice light, like her words don't mean anything. He holds his breath, wills her not to say it. "They're sacrificing themselves for what they believe."
He breathes out. He knows what she means.
"Okay," he says.
This is how it ends: he finishes the pretend, gets the bad guy. He ends the story with success and a disappearance in the night, and when she arrives there's nothing left, not even a red book, like he never existed, like he was a Centre illusion.
It's goodbye, and he knows she will understand.
She always does.
v. hammer in the coffin nails
She follows his clues, reports in newspapers and rumours of heroes. She leaves her office, skirt tight against her thighs, and Lyle follows. "Jarod sighting?" he asks, grins. She sneers, looks over her shoulder the whole drive to the airport.
In an expensive hotel three states away, Jarod wraps his arm around her waist, tugs her into the elevator. "Flashy," she comments. He shrugs.
Later, she sighs, and his grip tightens.
"We done?" he asks, voice soft. Of course he knows.
"Yeah," she says. "I think we are."
She presses her lips against his shoulder, because she remembers who she used to be, sometimes thinks about who she might have been. She pushes herself away, pulls on her clothes. She gets up to go.
"Parker," he says. She pauses, her hand on the door frame. "I wish-"
"No," she interrupts, stops him before he can damn them both. She glances at him, and in the darkness his eyes are shadowed, his hands smooth against the sheets, and she knows she will remember him this way. "We're done," she says.
"Yeah," he says.
And this is how it ends: her skin tingling as she steps, blinking, into the bright morning sun.
END
Red Rubber Ball - The Seekers
this story's in the past with nothing to recall
i've got my life to live and i don't need you at all
Freeway Home - New Rules for Boats
as you walked away from me
i realised i could only describe you as mad at me
Peachy - Missy Higgins
it can't be your fault
that i let you crawl inside my head
Chasing A Shadow - Charlotte Martin
the chase goes on forever / i'm running out of time
there's madness in the river and it has half my mind
Capoicity - Powderfinger
we'll tell them nothing
our little secret
Nobody Wants To - Crowded House
what you suspected all along
everything he told you was wrong
Bassa Nova – Shivaree
well i think i hate you
isn't this fun?
What Could I Tell You – Hawksley Workman
and let a new world fascinate
and a simple structure radiate
The Pretender, rated PG.
5 x 200 words of the ways it never ends between Parker and Jarod
OH SHOW <333
**
i. with nothing to recall
This is how it ends:
She chases him across the country; through shitty one-horse towns and smoggy, towering cities, and through beautiful sunsets across endless coastlines. She chases him, her brother one step, two steps, three steps behind.
She chases him, and she catches him in the early dawn light, his back against the wall and a grin on his face. "Parker-" he starts, and she kisses him, pushes, hopes the bricks cut into his back. She presses her nails into his skin, just to be sure.
Later, she rests her forehead against his, her hand on his wrist. She breathes out. "Parker," he whispers, and she cuffs him to a drainpipe. Behind her, she hears the screech of tyres and the call of her name. "Please," he says, stricken. "Parker, don't do this."
She grins. "Shut up, moron." She rests two fingers on the handcuff. "Don't turn back this time," she scolds as she steps away. She walks out of the alley, the clip of her heels loud on the pavement.
"Well?" asks Lyle, craning his head to peer into the alley. She doesn't look back.
"He got away," she says, and he does.
She doesn't see him again.
ii. heels that walk all over you
She steps out the main entrance, and the Centre is ashes around her, inmates off to homes and her father, nowhere to be seen. Lyle pauses beside her, his hands empty of trophies. "Admiring your work?" He gestures to the stockholder reports in her hand.
"I have never been prouder," she says, head held high. The sound of sirens floats on the breeze towards them, and Lyle dashes for his car. She grins, slides into her car and cruises away, the police cars speeding past. Behind her, smoke curls to the sky, and she hums, fiddles with her radio, pats the suitcase on the seat beside her.
Later, six thousand miles away, she leans back in her chair and stirs the fruit in her daiquiri. She smiles up at the sky: the sun warm on her face; a different name on her passport.
Her phone rings. "Mmm?" she answers, almost like she's already another person.
"Are you okay?" Jarod asks.
"Of course I am," she says.
"Does this mean…?" his voice trails off, and she pictures him, unsure of her, unsure of the world.
It brings her delight.
"Parkers always land on their feet," she says.
She ends the call.
iii. the clock ticking down
Lyle brings him in, bruised and battered and sad. Her stomach flutters, but she's seen it all before and she has a role to play: she laughs, strokes the point of her shoe down the curve of his arm. "Parker," Jarod says, and for a moment she almost believes that he hates her.
He passes out, and Lyle gestures at the sweepers. "Get him out of here," Lyle says. He turns to her. "Jealous?"
"Ten bucks says he escapes by dawn," she sneers. Lyle steps closer, steps until she can feel the cheap wool of his suit, but she refuses to move, refuses to show weakness to her brother.
"Twenty bucks says your career's over, Sis," he says, and grins at her.
In her office, she fiddles with her pen; answers email; yells at Broots. She thinks about what's going on, twenty three levels below, and on her monitor, she watches her brother torturing Jarod. She snaps her pencil in half; goes home.
Tomorrow, on her way in, she'll pass a body bag on its way to the morgue; she'll worry, know his cell is empty, but she won't have the heart to pull the plastic back.
He won't call.
iv. broken pieces on the ground
Worse than the kids starving on the streets; worse than the homeless and the disadvantaged; are those who help them, whose lives fall apart whilst they're serving soup, counselling lost souls and holding hands.
"I don't understand," he says, and down the phone her laughter is hollow.
"Why are you asking me?" she asks. "You know the Centre, just out for ourselves and our profits, don't care about the innocent."
He ignores her lie, keeps talking. "They're helping people, making the world right but their marriages fail and their parents hate them and they just keep on going."
"They're saving the world, Jarod," Parker says, her voice light, like her words don't mean anything. He holds his breath, wills her not to say it. "They're sacrificing themselves for what they believe."
He breathes out. He knows what she means.
"Okay," he says.
This is how it ends: he finishes the pretend, gets the bad guy. He ends the story with success and a disappearance in the night, and when she arrives there's nothing left, not even a red book, like he never existed, like he was a Centre illusion.
It's goodbye, and he knows she will understand.
She always does.
v. hammer in the coffin nails
She follows his clues, reports in newspapers and rumours of heroes. She leaves her office, skirt tight against her thighs, and Lyle follows. "Jarod sighting?" he asks, grins. She sneers, looks over her shoulder the whole drive to the airport.
In an expensive hotel three states away, Jarod wraps his arm around her waist, tugs her into the elevator. "Flashy," she comments. He shrugs.
Later, she sighs, and his grip tightens.
"We done?" he asks, voice soft. Of course he knows.
"Yeah," she says. "I think we are."
She presses her lips against his shoulder, because she remembers who she used to be, sometimes thinks about who she might have been. She pushes herself away, pulls on her clothes. She gets up to go.
"Parker," he says. She pauses, her hand on the door frame. "I wish-"
"No," she interrupts, stops him before he can damn them both. She glances at him, and in the darkness his eyes are shadowed, his hands smooth against the sheets, and she knows she will remember him this way. "We're done," she says.
"Yeah," he says.
And this is how it ends: her skin tingling as she steps, blinking, into the bright morning sun.
END
Red Rubber Ball - The Seekers
this story's in the past with nothing to recall
i've got my life to live and i don't need you at all
Freeway Home - New Rules for Boats
as you walked away from me
i realised i could only describe you as mad at me
Peachy - Missy Higgins
it can't be your fault
that i let you crawl inside my head
Chasing A Shadow - Charlotte Martin
the chase goes on forever / i'm running out of time
there's madness in the river and it has half my mind
Capoicity - Powderfinger
we'll tell them nothing
our little secret
Nobody Wants To - Crowded House
what you suspected all along
everything he told you was wrong
Bassa Nova – Shivaree
well i think i hate you
isn't this fun?
What Could I Tell You – Hawksley Workman
and let a new world fascinate
and a simple structure radiate
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:07 am (UTC)OH, SHOW.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:17 am (UTC)How was this show so awesome? SRS QUESTION.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:23 am (UTC)a) AP
b) MTW
c) Debbie
d) The campiness of it
e) The TENSION
f) Sydney's jaunty hats
g) NO TOUCHING
h) Prison tatts
i) Being tied up in the Everglades
j) Leopard print
k) NO THUMB
l) is for LLLLLLYLE
m) Candy
n) Revenge!Montages
o) Wheezing Men and Sweepers
p) Porno nipples
q) Broots in general
r) Lollypop bitch fights
s) etc etc
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:29 am (UTC)u) ANGELO
v) torture
w) not-dead brothers
x) that one time they were both AT THE SAME TIME on death's door, reexperiencing their childhood
y) leather coats
z) NOT OCEE
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 01:02 pm (UTC)z2) MTW's eye makeup
z3) the silver ring
z4) cigarettes and rosaries
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 07:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 11:18 am (UTC)Seriously, trust me on the Seekers' song. It's totally about Miss Parker.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 01:00 pm (UTC)Why, show? WHY?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 09:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 06:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 09:58 pm (UTC)You know there's no happy ending. For them OR FOR US.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 07:46 pm (UTC)YOU GUYS ROCK HARD
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 10:00 pm (UTC)WRITE NOW
(haha, I was so worried I wouldn't get this posted before you left for England and then you would NEVER SEE IT)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-15 10:02 pm (UTC)(YOU MADE IT UNDER THE WIRE. T-MINUS 24 HOURS, OMG)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-16 12:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-17 10:49 pm (UTC)