Gestalt
by ShaddyrDisclaimer: The Pretender and all related characters belong to NBC, and I am just playing in their sandbox. I promise to put everyone back when I'm done.
Note: Total shipper-fic. You have been warned.
Rating: PG-13
He stood outside, watching people piling into the renovated warehouse. It seemed like half the city was there tonight. A few political figures, some of the wealthy and influential high society types - but also gaily dressed every-day people from all walks of life. It had been touted as a gala event open to everyone, and one of the biggest radio stations in the city had given away over 100 tickets as part of a contest, so there was certain to be a wide variety of people in attendance.
He wondered if she would come. There was of course the chance something would require her attention back at the Centre. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to cut and run because they had located him already. This was the bringing in of the new millennium - okay, not really, but the excitement was catchy and he’d been infected - and he was looking froward to enjoying it in style.
For what seemed like the tenth time, he glanced self-consciously down at his own attire. The black tuxedo was impeccable, with crisp white shirt, black satin bow-tie and red cummerbund. It just felt so odd to be dressed up in something so unlike his everyday attire for his own purposes. If this were a pretend, he wouldn’t even blink. But this was just for him - for her. He rubbed his hands together, partly from the cold, partly from nervousness. ‘So this is what it feels like on a first date’ he thought with dark humour.
His musings were interrupted as the red Lexus pulled up in front of the building. He watched avidly from the shadows as the valet opened the door and a pair of sleek legs swung out - slowly, the driver stood up, and Jarod felt his breath catch in his throat as he drank in the sight. It was Parker. She wore a strapless black dress, the silky fabric of which seemed to be grafted on like a second skin, a diaphanous bolero jacket covering her arms. As she turned to give the keys to the valet, he darted silently across the street.
She was rifling through the small black handbag as he came up behind her. He heard her mutter something about ‘that damn ticket’, and smiled. He knew it was really a terrible thing he’d done, but he just hadn’t been able to help himself – well, honestly he hadn’t really wanted to. While she continued to search through the uncooperative contents of her purse, he dangled the ticket just over her head, right in her line of sight.
“Looking for this?” he asked, his characteristic smirk colouring his voice.
She froze, and as nippy as it was, Jarod could have sworn the ambient temperature in her immediate vicinity instantly dropped ten degrees. The chill that accompanied her next words would certainly have frozen anyone unaccustomed to dealing with the renowned Parker iciness.
“Jarod. I wasn’t sure before, but now I know. I do hate you.” She snatched the ticket from his hand, carefully tucked it in the side pocket before snapping the handbag closed, then turned to face him, fingers securely wrapped around a berreta.
“Okay, wonderboy. Are we going to do this the hard way or are you going to...” she trailed off as she took in the sight of him, and her eyes widened slightly. “Oh my,” she breathed softly, and her demeanor softened for a split second before bitch mode snapped back into place. Glaring up at him, she cocked an eyebrow. “You really were planning on ruining my ENTIRE evening, weren’t you?” she demanded.
He just smiled his best innocent-little-boy ‘who me?’ look as he debated the wisdom of the only method he could think of at the moment to disarm her. Well, no time like the present to find out.
“Parker, you are charming as always,” he proclaimed for show as some celebrants passed them, moving in closer to her as he spoke. She was wary, but completely unprepared to have his arm snake around her back and pull her right up against him, grasping her free hand as he did so and pinning it helplessly behind her.
“What are you...” she began furiously, an outraged expression on her face when his lips found hers and silenced the protest. Her body stiffened and she tried to pull away, but his other hand found its way to her waist, thumb and fingers splayed, coming to rest on her hip.
His detachment abruptly faltered as he found himself surprised by the intensity of his response to the kiss. He became aware of her in a whole new way, not just the huntress to be eluded, but the beautiful, soft, wonderful smelling woman in his arms. Inwardly, he yanked his attention back to the business at hand.
He felt her slowly loosen the grip on the gun she had jammed in his ribs, and trailing his fingers from her hip up the side of her body, he slipped his hand between them and gently removed it.
She tore her mouth away from his, flashing blue eyes holding his liquid brown ones. “You fight dirty, Jarod,” she spit out, and he was intrigued to see the play of emotions across her features. Her cheeks were flushed - with embarrassment, he thought, but her respiration was not completely characteristic of anger. It seemed more like excitement to him. And though he had expected to wrest the gun from her, he’d been counting more on surprise than – well, it has almost seemed as though she were crumbling. Miss Parker? Wobbly in the knees because of him? This was unexpected.
Somewhere in the back of his mind the realization dawned on him that after that kiss he was none to steady himself, but he didn’t have time to think about what that might imply. He firmly filed the observation in the analyze later category of his mind
“All’s fair in love and war, Miss Parker,” he replied as he tucked the gun into the back of his cummerbund, and was fascinated to see the color once again return to her cheeks. As interesting as it was, Jarod noticed they were beginning to draw the attention of passers-by, so he took her in arm and ushered her in.
***
Miss Parker’s head was in a whirl. If she were to start screaming right now, certainly they would call the police, and in wouldn’t take much for the Centre to make Jarod disappear out of the police lock-up. But this would, of course, require that she make a spectacle of herself, possibly show up in a local news-rag, and spend her fine evening downtown with the boys in blue doing the kind of paperwork she was 3 weeks behind in herself.
Or she could put up with Jarod.
Numbly, she allowed him to escort her in, mechanically digging the ticket out of her dress purse when they reached the attendant at the door. She felt like she was a million miles away, in a state of shock – and if she were brutally honest, it was all because he kissed her.
He’d KISSED her!
He’d broken the rules – and her entire paradigm for viewing their relationship had shifted. These last years of tracking him, hunting him; it had all been possible because she’d viewed him as the monkey and the Centre as the zoo. Just like Jarod to go and screw things up – again. But she already knew she wasn’t going to be able to regain her equilibrium on this. Oh, no, Jarod had messed this one up right and proper. With one kiss, he’d just ripped the strongbox that held all her childhood feelings, passions and dreams wide open and dumped it in the middle of the floor. And there he was beside her, clueless to the enormity of what he’d just done - that smug grin plastered on his face– and she wanted nothing more at the moment than to slap it off.
‘Get a grip!’ she berated herself as they walked, arm-in-arm, up the short flight of steps that led into the main ballroom. As soon as they entered the lavishly appointed room, she tried to make a break for it, hoping to find refuge somewhere away from him and try to get her head together. She had a job to do, damn it, no matter how inconvenient, and she wasn’t going to let any airy-fairy feelings or kiss-induced insights get in the way. If she could only get alone long enough to convince her self of that...
The arm that snaked around her waist assured her that Jarod was anticipating anything she might be planning. They strolled casually toward a seating area, and it occurred to her that Jarod had probably simmed this entire evening. Righteous indignation rose up within her, and planting her feet firm, she rounded on him.
“You’ve got more nerve than a toothache Jarod!” she snapped out, arms crossed, irritation oozing from every pore. “Why can’t you just leave me alone!” The irony of her statement struck her even as she said it, and she saw that he saw her own acknowledgment of it. “Alright,” she conceded grouchily, “touché. You’ve only said that very same thing to me more times than I could possibly count.,” she continued, her fury at him gradually deflating.
“It is rather interesting to hear it coming out of your mouth, Miss Parker,” he murmured as they continued towards the booth against the wall he’d decided on. It was a cozy half circle at the end of a row of booths against the side wall of the ballroom. He let her sit and then slid in beside her, slipping his arm around her once more.
“Do you mind?” she complained, trying to disengage his arm without either being too obvious about doing so, or utterly transparent as to how comforting she found it. His trademark infuriating grin made it easier.
“First we need to lay the ground rules Miss Parker.”
“No, Jarod. First you need to tell me what the hell your doing here and explain to me exactly why I shouldn’t just start screaming right bloody now and get you taken down town. Oh, yes, and give me my gun back.”
His eyebrow quirked and his face assumed that smug expression she knew so well. “If you were going to cause a scene, you would have done so already. I’m here for.. well, reasons I’m not going to go into yet, but I will explain them when the time comes. And, oh yes, you can have your gun back. Later.”
A waitress interrupted them. Parker ordered a double scotch before Jarod could wave the girl away. He frowned at her, but then continued.
“Back to the ground rules. You promise me that you won’t call the Centre, I let you go. Simple.”
“Jarod,” she spoke as if addressing a simpleton. “Why. Are. You. Here.”
“Do you agree?”
“Damn it, Jarod --”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “How do you know I won’t promise and then be on my cell the moment your back is turned?” she demanded.
The warm brown eyes that caught hers had a look she was unfamiliar with in them. Seconds passed, half a minute, her insides doing strange floppy things, as she sat entranced by his gaze, unable, unwilling to look away. When he finally spoke, it took a moment for what he’d said to sink in.
“Because I believe in you.”
It struck her dumb. Oh. That’s what trust looks like. I forgot.
* * *
Jarod watched her carefully, all the minute changes and subliminal clues she was giving out being meticulously filed away for future consideration. Right now his main concern was her agreement. He wasn’t sure if she would. He’d been banking on emotional responses, year-end exhaustion and the general “what-the-hell” malaise that seemed to afflict most people at this time of year to induce her to let it all go for just this once.
The reasons he’d given himself for showing up - making sure she didn’t drink herself into oblivion and end up in serious trouble, ‘counting coup’ so to speak – all evaporated like mist before the piercing blue eyes that held his own. He was here because there was nowhere he would rather be and no one he would rather be with.
She surprised him by breaking off eye contact, staring down at the table in front of them. She still hadn’t answered when the waitress came back and deposited the scotch before her. Opening her purse she handed the woman a five, then looked up at Jarod decisively and held out her cell phone.
“Okay. You don’t want me to call the Centre? Well, frankly, it’s my night off and I don’t want to call the Centre either. I’m already weeks behind in my paperwork and this was supposed to be my big night. The last thing I need is to spend it behind my desk writing another report.” She waved the phone in front of him. “C’mon, take it. I might not be so trustworthy as you think. In a weak moment I might be tempted to change my mind. Especially when you piss me off, which I just know is going to happen sometime this evening.”
He took the proffered phone, fingertips brushing her hand as he did so. “Your hands are freezing!” he exclaimed, putting the cell down to take her hand between his own, rubbing it to restore warmth to the icy digits. Moments later he captured her other one as well. Oddly, he noticed that once he had her hands she wouldn’t look at him. Anywhere but him as a matter of fact. As he studied her, he found himself changing from a heat building rub to a slow and languorous caress. That brought her eyes back to his very quickly, and once again, he noticed the stain of a blush on he cheeks.
“Jarod,” she began quickly, trying to remove her hands from his.
He was up in a flash, pulling her to her feet. “I know what will warm you up,” he said with a smile, and guided her to the dance floor.
***
Dozens of people were already out there. Upbeat popular tunes she recognized from the radio had been playing since they’d arrived. Parker felt like she was on a midway ride with no off button and events were occurring without her input, choice, or ability to stop them.
He held her lightly, one hand spanning her waist, the other gently grasping her fingers, following the music with ease. She observed with a bit of consternation that he was a better dancer than she was. When did he find the time to learn? Another of his ‘missions’ no doubt.
A profusion of people filled the huge dance floor and, in spite of herself, she was caught up in the corporate excitement of the night. She found herself smiling when she realized that she and Jarod had begun to ‘compete’ with a couple dancing next to them. The tall, muscular, dark-haired man and his equally tall, slender Asian partner moved with a fluid grace through intricate steps, then the man caught Jarod’s eye and the friendly challenge therein was impossible to miss. Jarod obliged by leading her through a similar routine with a slightly more complex ending. He favoured the man with his wicked grin, and then the other couple was off once more.
The next few hours passed in a blur, dancing followed by short breaks, then more dancing. Eventually, they found themselves sitting with the two dancers – Nate and Laura, a local married couple who taught dance as it turned out – and talking about everything and nothing, as if they, too, had no other cares in the world but normal jobs and lives. The crazy thought occurred to her that tonight they were both pretenders, and she stifled the giggle that threatened to erupt at that observation with a gulp of the single malt before her. Jarod gave her a quick questioning glance, but she just shook her head.
As Jarod and the dancing couple chatted amiably about steps and techniques, Parker found her thoughts returning to the disturbing kiss and all it had unearthed. Sitting back, she watched him over the rim of her glass as she sipped. The amber liquid burned its familiar path down her throat, providing the lovely blanket of insulation she was so desperately in need of at the moment.
What was she going to do? He didn’t know what he’d done to her. She could just pretend it had never happened.. she was already doing a lot of pretending tonight, it would just be one more thing to forget tomorrow. Even as she considered it, she knew it would be hopeless. That paradigm shift was rearing its ugly head, and the thought of hunting him with the voracious intensity she always had left her cold.
Once again, she felt her ire rise, and she schooled her expression into a deceptive blandness, careful not to give any clue of the frantic storm within. Damn him! He just had to mess things up! She knocked back another slug. This was just lovely.
go to part 2