I apologize in advance to all those who may not like hockey. Being a 
rabid Blackhawk fan myself, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write 
in this angle now that the season has begun. Besides, I think the Hawks 
need all the help they can get (heh-heh). Rated PG-13 for suggestive 
stuff and a little language. Disclaimer: The Chicago Blackhawks and 
Dallas Stars are the sole property of the National Hockey League. Any 
references to teams and player names are used without permission, for 
entertainment purposes only. The same is true for WMAQ Radio in 
Chicago. All other teams/persons are my own creation and any 
resemblance to the real thing is purely coincidental. Song lyrics by 
Rush, Genesis, Rolling Stones, the Cars, U2, Nine Inch Nails Collective 
Soul, and Pretenders are the sole property of their respective artists and 
are used without permission. Jarod and company are the property of 
MTM and used without permission, etc. (Whew!) Comments as always 
are welcome to the email address below. 


"High Heels, Hockey Pucks, and Pretenders" 
Swikstr <swikstr@aol.com>

<<"Good evening everyone, this is Brian Davis at the WMAQ Sports 
Huddle bringing you another pre-game edition of HawkTalk. Tonight's 
contest is between the Hawks and the Dallas Stars here at the United 
Center, and let me tell you folks, things are a'happening for hockey 
here in the Windy City. It was just a month ago that the Hawks' playoff 
chances seemed virtually hopeless. Now, with a six game winning 
streak under their belts, they have a shot at that eighth playoff spot if 
they can win their final two games -- tonight at home against Dallas, 
and in three days at Kansas City against the Comets, who ironically, are 
in *exactly* the same do-or-die position as Chicago. And let me take a 
moment to remind you that Kansas City's star forward, Brad Hall, still 
remains in that debilitating coma after a severe concussion suffered 
during that game against the Rangers a month ago. There's been a lot 
of controversy over the decision by the Comets' coach and team 
medical staff to put Hall back in the game after a head-first crash into 
the boards. As always, our thoughts and prayers are with the Hall 
family, especially Brad's brother Jimmy, a rookie defenseman with our 
own Chicago Blackhawks. Now, getting back to the playoff race...much 
of the Hawk's recent success appears to have been sparked by the stellar 
play of rookie goalie Jarod Espo, who was called up from the minors 
last month....>>

*********

<He's a rebel and a runner, he's a signal turning green 
He's a restless young romantic, wants to run the big machine 
He's got a problem with his poisons, but you know he'll find a cure 
He's cleaning up the system, to keep his nature pure> 
-- "New World Man" -- Rush 

The United Center -- Chicago, Illinois 7:00 p.m.

Jarod closed his eyes and listened to the whispery sound of his 
teammates' skate blades as they worked their way through the pregame 
skate-around.  He leaned backward until his head touched the cold 
surface of the ice, going through his routine of warm-up stretches. At 
the edges of his concentration, he could hear a rock'n'roll song blaring. 
He stopped moving and cocked his head to listen. Rush? Maybe. Rock 
music was still very new to him but he was pleased that he could now 
recognize the band, even if he hadn't already heard the song. 

Bouncing to his feet abruptly, Jarod jammed the kevlar mask over his 
head and skated toward the goal crease to begin warming up in the net. 
He could feel the onset of the now-familiar edginess that he 
experienced before every game.

Of course, in his days at the Centre, he hadn't been allowed the 
privilege of athletic activity, much less team sports and he found the 
culture surrounding the team and the game absolutely fascinating. He 
was enjoying this latest pretend even more than usual.

Jarod snapped out of his reverie as a puck whizzed past, settling into 
the net behind him with a satisfying 'thunk'. He looked up as Jimmy 
Hall skated past, winking with a snide smile on his face, happy that he 
had caught Jarod napping. Annoyed with himself, he settled into his 
goal stance and began blocking the rapid fire shots of the other players. 
But he continued to concentrate on Hall , watching him glide to the red 
line, looking for another puck to shoot.

Almost as soon as he had came up from the minors, Jimmy had taken 
him on as a pupil of sorts, explaining all the little idiosyncrasies of life 
as a hockey player with the Blackhawks. A naturally upbeat person, 
Hall rarely displayed the daily anxiety he went through, now that his 
brother lay in a coma 500 miles away in Kansas City. Of course, he had 
no idea that Brad was the real reason Jarod had taken up hockey in the 
first place.

Jarod frowned, thinking about that situation. No matter how much he 
enjoyed playing the game, he never forgot that it was just that -- a 
game. It certainly wasn't something vital enough to risk the life of an 
obviously debilitated player. And after a lot of research , Jarod had 
concluded that Brad Hall should have been put into an ambulance that 
night, not back out onto the ice. Hence, his latest career move...

He brought himself back to the present, reminding himself that the 
reckoning with Kansas City's coach and team medical 'expert' would be 
coming soon enough. That would be his way of repaying Jimmy for 
friendship they shared.

Jarod glanced up just as Hawks' captain Chris Chelios took a slap shot, 
aiming carefully just above Jarod's left shoulder. With lightening quick 
reflexes, he straightened, blocking the puck with his shoulder pad and 
sending it flying. He could tell by Chelios' expression that he had seen 
the exchange with Hall, and his shot was a reminder that Jarod should 
direct his full concentration to the task at hand. A win tonight was 
necessary for their very survival. He nodded quickly in the captain's 
direction, turning his thoughts to an analysis of their opponents' 
capabilities.

It was going to be a difficult game, largely due to the black-clad figure 
going through the exact same routine as he across the ice. He watched 
the Stars' goalie, Eddie Belfour, for a moment. It had been game film of 
the former Hawks' goaltender that Jarod had watched endlessly in 
preparation for this pretend. This was the first time he would be facing 
Belfour himself though, and he figured the other goalie would be good 
for about thirty or forty saves tonight. Which would make the Stars 
almost unstoppable. Jarod knew he would have to be in top form if the 
Blackhawks were to have a chance at a win.

The scoreboard airhorn blasted, startling him. He straightened up, 
exasperated. That horn was one of the only things he just couldn't get 
used to here. He leaned back against the net as the players began to 
skate off in a line toward the locker room, passing him, tapping his 
mask for luck. 

He looked up as Jimmy skated by him, pointing.

"Better make sure there's zero *penetration* tonight, buddy," he said, 
looking over his shoulder with a smart-ass grin. 

Jarod marveled yet again at the fact that hockey players could inject a 
ribald innuendo into just about any situation. Hall had needed to 
explain that one about a dozen times before he finally got it. With his 
limited comeback skills, Jarod often found himself the target of the 
players' jokes. But he didn't mind; it made him one of the guys. 

He looked around and noticed that Chelios was the last man left on the 
ice. That was his cue to head for the locker room. Opening face-off 
would be in fifteen minutes. 

*********

<They found a man reported missing 
He wandered in his home 
It don't seem too bad if you consider 
Just what he's been through...> 
-- "Keep It Dark" -- Genesis 

7:30 p.m. - Stars at Blackhawks, opening face-off.

Jarod walked up the ramp with the rest of his teammates in virtual 
silence. He could hear the strains of the Blackhawks' theme song and 
the noise of the crowd building as they neared the dark entrance. 
Closing his eyes, he savored the dynamic feeling of anticipation that 
flowed between the players. All of them were geared up to maximum 
intensity for the contest ahead. Gametime always had this effect on 
him, second only to the rush he got whenever he thought of Miss 
Parker. He quickly stifled that memory. A win tonight would require 
his absolute concentration, and nothing less than that was necessary for 
the sake of the team as well as for his ultimate objective in Kansas City.

Suddenly, the lights went on in the United Center and the fans roared 
to their feet as the Hawks burst out onto the ice. Jarod skated to the 
crease, his personal domain for the next sixty minutes. The strains of 
the National Anthem rang out, along with the roar of the crowd, and 
he listened to the noise swirl around the arena. At the conclusion, he 
took his stance, dug his skates into the ice, and felt for the back of the 
crossbar with the heel of his stick. He watched as five of his teammates 
made their way to center ice.

The scream of the opening whistle sounded. 

As the referee dropped the puck, he thought he could almost hear the 
tiny slap as it hit the ice, followed by the clamor of sticks on sticks as the 
opposing centers slashed wildly at it. For better or worse, the game was 
under way...

*********

<<Later in the game: End of the Second Period 
Score: Stars 2 - Blackhawks 2>>

The airhorn blasted, rocking the rafters of the UC, and signaling the 
end of the second period. Both goaltenders had been brilliant so far and 
the game remained deadlocked at 2-2. Jarod skated over to the Hawk 
bench, pulling off his mask. Hall was waiting for him and the two 
headed for the dressing room. 

As they reached the edge of the rink, both looked back at the 
preparations that were being made for the traditional between-periods 
shoot-out. Jarod smiled, thinking about it. 'Tradition' was really not 
the right word. 'Spectacle' was more like it. He had found it thoroughly 
confusing the first time he had seen it, but as always, Hall had no 
problem explaining.

It seemed that a local company always sponsored a shoot-out contest 
for three lucky fans from the crowd. The 'tradition' as Jimmy had gone 
on to illustrate, was that no matter who the first two contestants were, 
the third was always a female with as short a skirt and as high heels as 
possible. Right there on the ice. The guys in the crowd found it wildly 
entertaining when the designated young woman leaned over to shoot 
the puck. 

"Really cranks 'em up man," Hall had said.

"But doesn't it offend the women?" Jarod had asked, puzzled.

"Maybe so, but who ever said life was fair?" Hall's powers of 
rationalization never ceased to amaze Jarod.

As they skated off the ice, he thought about that conversation and 
wondered if Hall and the other players might be a bad influence on 
him. *Nobody* talked the way these guys did at the Centre. He smiled, 
realizing that it didn't matter.

When they reached the edge of the rink, Jarod heard Dale Talon, the 
Hawks' broadcast announcer, call out to him, looking for an interview, 

"Hey Jarod, you mind talking to us for a few minutes?"

"Sure," he replied, handing his mask, stick, and glove over to one of 
the equipment staff. Hall gave a mocking salute and continued down 
the tunnel while Jarod turned back toward the ice.

He quickly put on the headset that was handed to him, and faced the 
announcer just as the evening's contest began out on the ice. It was a 
fast interview, for Talon had to wrap it up when the sound of the 
crowd's cheers became prohibitive. Finished, they both turned their 
attention toward the contest.

"She must be better-looking than usual," Talon commented, as the 
roar finally began to wind down.

Jarod looked toward center ice but the woman was already being 
escorted off by some member of the UC staff. His eyes caught the stiletto 
heels and traveled up the woman's legs to the slim black skirt of her 
suit and then above, noticing she was a redhead. He drew in his breath 
sharply as something about the way she moved reminded him of 
someone. There could be no way, he thought to himself, transfixed. 

Suddenly she turned her head. The profile he caught was unfamiliar.

"Jarod?" Talon was speaking.

He snapped his head back to the announcer, trying to regain his 
composure.

"See anything you like?" Talon was laughing.

"She looked like somebody I knew," Jarod said abruptly, disappointed. 
He turned and took off down the tunnel. It was time to get his game 
face back on.

"Hey, good luck tonight!" the announcer shouted after him.

"Luck is not a factor," he called back, using one of Hall's stock phrases 
and hoping it would be true...

*********

<<Later in the game: Overtime -- Fifty-five seconds remaining. 
Score: Stars 2 - Blackhawks 2>>

He closed his eyes and sprayed water through his mask onto his face, 
quickly swallowing several gulps as the whistle came to an end. It had 
been a brutal third period, with neither team giving an inch. Now, the 
overtime looked as if it would be worse. They needed to score. 

He looked across at Belfour, who seemed as maddeningly calm now as 
at the opening face off. He and Jarod each had thirty-eight saves. So far. 
But Jarod knew Belfour could afford to be calm; his team had already 
secured their playoff spot and *he* wasn't gearing up for a big 
confrontation in Kansas City.

He threw the water bottle back up on the net and jammed his glove 
back on, gripping his stick. The next face-off would occur in the Stars' 
zone, and he used the reprieve to catch his breath.

The whistle blew and Jarod watched as the linesman dropped the puck. 
He felt a blaze of hope as he saw the Hawks' center control the puck 
and rush Belfour in the Stars' goal. Suddenly, Jarod tensed as the Stars' 
captain stole the puck, passing it to their star center, Mike Modano. 
Like a bolt of lightning, Modano raced across the ice, heading straight 
for the Hawks' net.

Jarod got ready, moving to the front of the crease, digging his blades 
into the ice and bracing himself for the rocket he knew would be 
coming. 

Modano took the shot. 

Jarod concentrated on the blurring puck as it sped toward him at over 
ninety-five miles an hour. He had noted the trajectory and dropped 
down on one knee, reaching out with his glove to make the save and 
freeze it for a whistle.

He felt the puck slam up against his glove, just as he flattened it on the 
ice, but instead of being safely in his hand, it skittered off the edge of his 
mitt and rebounded back out into the sea of players. Modano alertly 
snared it with his stick, never taking his eyes off the goal.

In a split second, Jarod's analytical brain factored out all the possible 
moves the center might make, settling on the most likely. He watched 
intently as Modano faked the shot, opting instead to pass it off to a 
waiting forward. Playing along with the fake, Jarod stayed down and 
kept his eyes trained on Modano, seemingly unaware that the puck was 
now with the other player. The forward wound up and took a high 
shot. Jarod swung his stick hand upward, and with an almost 
superhuman effort, clipped the puck with his blocker and sent it back 
onto the ice. He felt a rush of triumph as the crowd roared.

This time, it was Chris Chelios who was right there when the puck 
rebounded. He scooped it up, taking off in the general direction of the 
Stars' net. Jarod looked quickly at the clock. The final ten seconds were 
slipping away.

He watched in anxiety as Chelios neared Belfour, willing the captain to 
score. He needn't have worried. Chelios faked a slap shot, fooling 
Belfour into going down. That accomplished, he flipped the puck up 
and over into the net just as the last second ticked off on the clock. The 
red lamp lit behind the Stars' goal and Jarod flinched at the blast of the 
airhorn as the crowd surged to its feet, reacting wildly to the 
unexpected win.

The Hawks celebrated with abandon on the ice, banging each others 
helmets and waving their sticks in the air. Jimmy Hall skated up to 
Jarod, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Great save buddy!" he 
shouted at the top of his lungs, leaving to congratulate Chelios on the 
game-winning goal.

Jarod pushed his mask up on top of his head and turned back to 
retrieve his water bottle. Idly, he noticed that the crowd was already 
filtering out, and his eyes dropped to two people, a man and woman, 
standing opposite the glass from him.

The man wore a nondescript gray suit and was gazing at him in 
recognition and amusement. The woman was dressed in a pencil-slim 
short denim skirt with a white tee shirt and leather bomber jacket. An 
unlit cigarette dangled in her hand which also held a half empty draft 
from one of the stadium beer vendors. 

Miss Parker's sly half smile widened into the genuine article as she 
watched the shock and surprise register on Jarod's face. That look alone 
was worth the risk they had taken to be there tonight.

Jarod stared as she spoke into Sydney's ear, turning with him to 
disappear into the fading crowd.

"Hey buddy, seen a ghost?" Hall's skate blades crunched on the ice as 
he slid to a stop next to Jarod. "Hel-lo. Jarod?? The game's over with 
man."

Jarod blinked, focusing his attention on Jimmy. "Oh...yeah," he 
stammered.

"Come on pal, lets hit the showers. I'm ready to get drunk and spend 
the night jamming at the House," Hall called over his shoulder, 
referring to the House Of Blues, a popular team hangout. He skated 
toward the tunnel.

Jarod followed Hall for a moment, then turned back to the stands, 
wondering if he was becoming delusional. There was no further sign of 
them. He shook his head and skated off the ice, handing off his 
equipment to a trainer.

As he made his way through the tunnel toward the locker room, he 
heard a smoky voice emerge from the shadows:

"Hello Jarod."

She stepped slowly from the darkness. 

*********

<Love is strong 
And you're so sweet 
You make me hard 
You make me weak> 
-- "Love Is Strong" -- Rolling Stones 

He turned, eyes drinking in the sight of her. It took a moment to find 
his voice. "Well if it isn't Miss Parker. What's a nice girl like you doing 
in a place like this?"

"I'm taking up spectator sports," she replied, sliding up to him with a 
seductive smile. "*Very* entertaining. You know, twelve guys 
swinging sticks at each other? Kind of primitive wouldn't you say?"

She stepped closer biting her lower lip suggestively. The tunnel was 
cold , but all she could feel was the heat building between them. 
"Speaking of primitive, looks like you're getting there too."  She raised 
her fingers to graze the stubble on his chin. 

"It's kind of a hockey thing," he said using Hall's favorite phrase. 
"Besides," he said, noting her attire, "You look a little unrestrained 
yourself." 

"I always dress this way for hockey games." She looked up at him, 
blatant invitation in her eyes.

He hesitated, wanting to ask her why she had come tonight, but she 
shook her head slightly, as if she sensed the question hovering on his 
lips. 

"Actually, I'm traveling in disguise."

Jarod smiled as she slid her hand around his neck, pulling him down 
for a kiss.

He sank into the vortex of desire that opened up at the touch of her 
mouth, hearing her gasp of pleasure as he slid his hand up her bare leg 
to the hem of her skirt.

Then, without warning, another voice cut into their interlude. 

"Jarod, what the hell?! You going to leave me waiting around here all 
ni..." Jimmy stopped short when he saw them, his eyes widening, 
"Oops."

Miss Parker backed off, moving into the shadows behind Jarod.

"It's all right," he said softly to her, pulling her forward. "Jimmy, meet 
Miss Parker. Miss Parker meet Jimmy Hall, hockey hero of the western 
world."

"Pleased ma'am," Jimmy said, clearly embarrassed, "Jarod's the real 
hero though. I guess you saw him save our asses pretty good 
tonight...shoot, sorry about the language."

"I've heard the term before," she replied dryly.

"Oh...right." 

"Yeah, Jimmy gets a little carried away," Jarod drawled, thoroughly 
enjoying Hall's discomfort. She had this way with people... 

"Well, I guess you two would rather be alone," Hall said, recovering. 
"I'll catch you later Jarod; Miss Parker," he winked over his shoulder, 
heading back for the dressing room.

"Do you really think that was wise?" she asked, looking up at him, her 
tone sharpening with concern.

"Don't worry about Jimmy," he replied. "Look, I need to get to get 
cleaned up. I have a black Explorer in the parking lot with a plate that 
says 'Game On'. Meet me there in fifteen minutes?" He gave her a 
questioning look.

She met his eyes, nodded quickly, and slipped back into the shadows.

*********  
<She's a frozen fire 
She's my one desire...> 
-- "Let's Go" -- The Cars 

Jarod stood before his locker, his thoughts racing as he got dressed. 
Why would she and Sydney pick now to show up?? He hadn't seen her 
since that night at her apartment in Blue Cove, although his thoughts 
revolved around her constantly. He supposed it was a consequence of 
their encounter. A similar thing had happened with Nia, but the 
experience with Miss Parker had had a deeper, more enduring result. 

Jimmy walked up, interrupting his musing. "So, was that the real 
'Candy-O'?" he asked, referring to one of Jarod's more recent 
preoccupations.

"Yep."

He detected the reserve in Jarod's tone. "I take it this was an 
unscheduled visit?"

Jarod closed up his equipment bag and looked up at Hall. "They're all 
unscheduled," he replied enigmatically, "But I'll take what I can get."  

"Well, the House won't be the same without you tonight. Maybe you 
can get more than a dance this time, though."

 Jarod only smiled slightly, used to the insinuation. Besides, he was in a 
hurry to get out of there, and he knew Hall was using the conversation 
as an excuse to put off the nightly phone call that had to be made to 
Kansas City. "See you at practice tomorrow," he said, adding, "Say hi to 
the family." He clipped the other man on the shoulder for support and 
headed for the door.

Hall stared after him thoughtfully.

*********

<She's the wave, 
She turns the tide 
She sees the man inside the child. 
It's alright...It's alright...It's alright 
She moves in mysterious ways...> 
-- "Mysterious Ways" -- U2 

Jarod walked through the dark of the United Center parking lot, taking 
a moment to breathe in the cool lake breeze. He saw the glow of her 
cigarette before he reached the truck.

"I thought you gave that up," he said, disapproval leaking into his 
voice.

"Stress," was all she replied, dropping the cigarette and grinding it out 
with the tip of her shoe.

She stepped up into the truck, shaking her head slightly at the three 
pez dispensers stacked in the cup holder.

He climbed in the drivers' side and started the ignition.

"So, where are we going?"

"I'm staying at a place on the lake," he replied. "We won't be disturbed 
there. By the way, where's Sydney?"

She smiled wryly. "We've got a suite at the Drake. I guess he has some 
old acquaintance here he wanted to meet. A woman..." her voice was 
thoughtful. 

She heard a rattle in the back seat and glanced over her shoulder, doing 
a double-take. He had about fifty CD's sliding around back there. She 
reached backward, grabbing a handful.

"Ummm...the Cars, Genesis, Rush...Collective Soul?" she continued, 
"U2, the Rolling Stones... Nine Inch Nails??" He heard the questioning 
note in her voice. "I think a see a pattern forming here," she said, 
mockingly.

"It's just something Hall's been helping me with."

"Another obsession?" she said, thinking about the monopoly incident.

"Well, kind of. The names these guys choose are fascinating. I mean, 
why would a group of musicians name themselves after motor 
vehicles?"

She gazed at him steadily, willing herself to keep a straight face.

He grabbed the U2 disc and slid it into the player as he continued, "Or 
espionage aircraft for that matter. I did that sim; I know Powers crashed 
over the Soviet Union, not Ireland."

This time she did laugh. "Jarod, you've still got a lot to learn. Oh this is 
good," she stopped, holding out a disc. "Pretenders. Just what *you* 
should be listening to." A thought struck her. "I'll bet if it were me 
chasing you instead of Brigitte, you'd leave this thing at a phone booth 
in Anchorage and phone in anonymous sighting."

"That still a good idea though, even for her," he laughed.

Miss Parker quieted suddenly. "Jarod, what are you doing here?" she 
asked.

"Driving," he said, as if it should be obvious.

"No, I mean what are you *doing*...here in Chicago." 

She noticed his features harden slightly.

"There's a guy in Kansas City, a hockey player," he began. "His name is 
Brad Hall, and he has a wife and two young daughters. Oh, and a kid 
brother. He's a player too. They were inseparable as children; the way 
brothers are supposed to be."

For a brief moment, his voice was bitter, and she knew he was thinking 
about Kyle.

"Anyway, Brad was a great player -- a lone 'star' on a struggling hockey 
team. Six weeks ago, in a game against the Rangers, he got tied up with 
a defenseman on a breakaway and they crashed into the boards. 
Unfortunately for Brad, he went head first."

Jarod was silent for a few minutes.

"When they got him to the bench, he seemed coherent," he continued, 
taking on a sarcastic tone. "The only thing was, he couldn't remember 
his first name. A minor problem. But as I said, Kansas City is a 
struggling team, and New York was a divisional opponent. And a win 
was all that mattered."

She listened as his voice became more and more angry.

"So, the coach, who's supposed to be looking out for his players' best 
interests and the doctor, who's job it is to ensure these guys stay 
healthy, convinced Brad he was OK to keep playing. Ten minutes later, 
he collapsed into a coma; the result of a severe concussion. Now, his 
wife, children, brother -- the rest of his family, may never be able to 
interact consciously with him again."

He finished in a furious rush, "The Comets won the game though...I 
guess that's all that mattered."

So, she thought, that's who Jimmy Hall is. She could think of nothing 
to say, sensing that trying to comfort him would be useless. Besides, 
that wasn't her style. If he wanted to save the world, that was his 
business. Her own agenda was a little bit more personal, but it wasn't 
the time to get into that.

Finally, he shook off his dark mood and changed the subject, "So how 
did you guys get here, how did you find me?"

"Oh please, Jarod," she responded, sounding impatient with him. 
"That bogus letter you sent to SIS soliciting corporate contributions? I 
noticed the return address -- '41370 Marine Drive, Chicago'. Now who 
else would use that date and that name in the same line?" she asked 
pointedly. "If Brigitte were half as smart as she thinks she is, you'd be 
in real danger."

"That really is my address," he said defensively. "Well, almost."

She ignored the comment, continuing, "As to getting here, that was 
really rather easy. SIS thinks that Sydney and I are in Denver for the 
Nichols trial. We just took a short detour."

"Why?" he asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.

"Because SIS is paranoid about the details of the Waco operation 
leaking," she answered, thinking he was talking about Denver. "Reno 
did her part and covered for them but you never know where the next 
hit will come from. They think the guys who hired Nichols and 
McVeigh suspect our involvement. So we're there for surveillance and 
to be ready to put out any fires that may start."

"No," he interrupted, processing the information she had 
inadvertently given him, but saving it for later. "Why the detour?"

"Oh," she smiled suggestively. "Maybe I just wanted to get laid." 

Her answer stirred a response in him, despite its flippancy, but Jarod 
was also quick enough now to realize she was hiding the real reason. 
To anyone else, she would have seemed in perfect control, but he still 
knew her better than anyone on the planet. He could hear just the 
faintest hint of anxiety, maybe even a little fear, but he let it slide. 
Desensitizing their relationship evidently made her feel more secure. 
He would have to do something about that. 

They pulled off Lake Shore Drive, heading for one of the taller 
buildings. Jarod parked the car, grabbed his bag, and came around the 
side to escort her in. He felt her fingers tremble as he grasped her hand, 
desire rekindling between them. His breathing quickened.

On the elevator, he leaned in close to her, watching her eyes close as 
she savored the sexual current that flowed around them in the 
enclosed space. Senses reeling, he lowered his head to hers, kissing her 
lightly.

She shivered as their breaths mingled, his tongue skimming her lower 
lip. She opened her mouth, inviting him inside.

The elevator jerked to a stop, startling them. Jarod stepped into the 
hallway, quickly leading her to the apartment. He unlocked the door, 
and followed her inside.

She glanced around the neat, organized living room, noticing the heap 
of game film stacked by the television, and about a hundred more CD's. 
Her gaze came to rest on a full-color poster tacked to the wall. It was a 
rendition of the Cars' album Candy-O, with a redhead in high heels 
sprawled suggestively on the hood of a car. She looked pointedly at 
Jarod.

"It reminded me of somebody," he returned defensively.

"Uh-huh. Nice shoes. And my hair is darker than that by the way." She 
suddenly noticed the silver glint of the DSA case tucked in a corner.

"How *did* you get that back out the last time?"

He followed her glance. "I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you."

"Well," she drawled seductively, "Better at your *hands*..." 

The bag dropped from his fingers as she melted into his arms, nipping 
at his ear suggestively and running her fingers through his hair.

He made a small sound, deep in his throat as he slid the jacket off of 
her shoulders, hands sliding down the length of her body to her hips, 
molding them against his.

She moaned at the proof of his desire, knees buckling as he guided her 
down to the floor. 

Just like the last time, she lost herself in the delicious sensation of 
complete surrender as he took her to another place -- where worry and 
uncertainty were forgotten and fulfillment was her final reward... 

*********

<what have i become my sweetest friend      
everyone i know goes away in the end 
you could have it all my empire of dirt i will let you down 
i will make you hurt 
if i could start again a million miles away 
i would keep myself 
i would find a way> 
-- "hurt" -- nine inch nails 

Jarod woke suddenly in the darkness, realizing that at some point they 
had made their way to the bedroom. He shook his head, vaguely 
remembering dancing, among other things, with her to Strummer's 
'War Cry'. God he loved modern music. 

Now it was quiet and he sensed rather than saw that he was alone. The 
whole evening had been emotionally charged, and he suspected the 
climax had been a little overwhelming for her. Of course, that *had* 
been his intention, since it seemed that a sexual encounter was the 
only way to get her to communicate her deeper feelings. Now, he 
assumed, she would be off in her usual remote mental state, trying to 
figure out a way to deny what had just happened.

While that knowledge hurt, it wasn't anything he hadn't learned to 
expect. Given time, he was confident he could bring her around, but 
right now he needed to know why she and Sydney were in Chicago.

He stepped from the bed, pulling on a pair of shorts. She would not 
have left without transportation.

As he entered the living room, he saw her standing motionless before 
the windows that overlooked the lake. She looked very small, clad 
only in one of his black practice jerseys, the hem reaching to her knees. 
The air in the room felt frigid.

"If only the Centre could see you now," he said, coming up next to her, 
trying a soft approach.

"If the Centre could see me now, I'd be dead," she said in a flat voice.

Jarod drew back slightly at her tone, resolving once again to ask for a 
road map to her personality. In an instant, he thought about the many 
Miss Parkers he had confronted over the years; uncertain 
child...confident hunter...emotionless killer...guilty rescuer...furious 
avenger...playful seductress...passionate lover. Now this -- detached 
and cold, just as he had thought.

He waited in silence, to see where she would go with this.

"My mother loved the water...the ocean at Blue Cove," she said aloud, 
staring at the lake. "I think that's why she chose the name for me that 
she did." 

"Marine." He said the name quietly, deliberately.

Miss Parker closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, shivering. The sound 
of her name on his tongue was a caress; a reminder of the intimacy that 
she craved, that only he could satisfy. From anyone else, it was an 
affront, a former reminder of her mother's weakness. Then she 
reminded herself that her mother hadn't been weak.

But *she* was. She felt like a wild animal, cornered. This night had 
been a mistake -- how could she have done this to herself? She had 
abandoned her well-laid plans, her control, everything. Why? Because 
she was like a junkie, and Jarod was her fix. And now, after tonight, 
she couldn't even continue to delude herself into thinking that it was 
just about sex. That was what was the most frightening.

She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Months ago, back in 
Blue Cove, she had foreseen this outcome, but she had chosen to go to 
bed with him anyway. It had been her call too, to come to Chicago, 
knowing damn well what would happen. Wanting it to happen. Well, 
she had gotten her wish. She knew he felt it too, even though nothing 
had been said aloud. 

Of course, that meant her situation was now screwed beyond repair.

The people close to her had a way of exiting her life abruptly, and she 
was determined not to add his name to that list. There was no way she 
could tell him what she had come there for, what she had come to ask 
him, without somehow putting them at risk. Back in Delaware, it had 
seemed to be a workable plan, but at 3 a.m. in his apartment after hours 
of intense lovemaking, she had a whole new perspective. It had been a 
useless trip, and now it was time to cut her losses.

Turning around, she saw that he already had a clue as to what was 
coming. Her eyes went blank as she willed herself to feel nothing.

Jarod recognized the look. The last time he saw it she had been holding 
a gun to his head, and then she had pulled the trigger. He wasn't about 
to go through that again.

"Don't do this," he said, an edge of steel in his voice.

She refused to let herself be swayed. Jarod knew a lot of things about 
her mother, her father, the Centre...he knew a lot of things about *her*. 
But he had no idea of the information she now possessed; the things 
she had been up to ever since that night in her apartment.

"Jarod," she said, trying to sound cool, "Forget it. This was a hell of a 
ride, but it's time to get back to reality now. We can't keep doing this. 
Let's just accept that and move on."

"Bullshit."

Her eyes widened at the crude term. Jarod *never* talked that way. She 
sank into the chair opposite him, speechless. 

"Look, I may not be in the same league as you when it comes to denial, 
but don't lie to me about what happened here. About what's happened 
ever since you left that door open at the Centre. This path was set when 
we were children, so don't think you can fool me into believing it's 
something it's not."

He took a breath, figuring he might as well go all the way. "Do you 
know why I slept with you that night at your apartment? It was so that 
I'd have an easier time convincing you to help me find my family. 
Only I didn't count on the consequences. Like you said then...it has a 
way of changing things."

She said nothing, looking at him.

"Do you understand what I'm saying? I gave up my family because of 
the way you make me feel. So why don't you cut the tough-guy act and 
tell me why you're really here."

He watched her features soften slightly, as her eyes darkened with 
feeling. He knew it was the biggest concession he would get for now.

"All right," she said, resigned. "But you really should sit down for this. 
I don't suppose you'll let me smoke?"

"Not a chance," he replied, sitting opposite her. "Now talk to me..." 

**********

 <I think her gun's unloaded now. I guess tomorrow will be after all? 
Who made me judge and jury here? It seems I'm bearing witness to 
her fall.
I don't know why she cries to me. (She keeps her pain as company) 
'Cause it's only time before we all must Bleed.> 
-- "Bleed" -- Collective Soul 

She began to speak.

"Remember that file that was destroyed? The one with all the 
information about your family?"

He nodded, mouth tightening, with the memory.

"There's a duplicate in my father's office at the Centre. That's where 
Lyle keeps it."

She cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak, "I don't have access 
to his office, not since he's been missing. No one else does either. *Mr. 
Lyle* has taken up residence."

"Then how do you know?"

"I already knew it existed when I ordered the file that *you* had to be 
destroyed."

He fought to keep his temper under control. Whatever decisions she 
had made, he had to trust that they were for good reasons.

Her gaze held his, knowing the next part would be very difficult.

"You can't have access to that file."

"What?" his tone demanded an explanation.

"I said you can't," she bit out. "It would be too dangerous."

"Oh, I see. Like it's perfectly safe now?" he asked sarcastically. "Why 
should the degree of risk suddenly matter?"

"Listen to me Jarod," she commanded, sharp as a razor. "They're after 
you now for a lot of reasons. At first it was a simple profit motive. 
Then, once they realized you wouldn't go back to being a good little 
pretender voluntarily, it became more of a 'preventive maintenance' 
issue. The tower doesn't like loose ends, or loose cannons. And now, 
you've started provoking them with your little *heists*." 

Her voice was coldly clinical. "The only way to get that file out of his 
office, is for me to go in and get it. And if the Tower found out that that 
was what happened, they *would* find a way to kill us both. Imagine," 
she continued, "Fifty Brigittes on the job instead of just one."

He had to fight to make sense of what she was saying, because thoughts 
of his family were clouding his logic.

"It's really very simple. If I gave you the information, they'd know 
immediately where you got it from. There's no one else at the Centre 
with the huevos to take that kind of risk. And that would be proof that 
I've crossed over. Even now they aren't sure that hasn't already 
happened. Lately, I have a sweep team do everything but hide in my 
lingerie to spy on me," she was derisive. 

"How would they know you gave it to me?" he challenged her.

"Because," she took a deep breath. "They know where your family is 
*right now.*"

His eyes widened in shock at her disclosure. Good, she thought, he was 
actually speechless for a change. It left her free to continue.

"That's what Brigitte has been up to since you escaped. God, I thought 
you were supposed to be good at this. Don't you remember how they 
caught you the last time?? If you make contact, they'll snare you and 
take you back to the Centre. Then they'll clean up your family. And 
don't worry about an interrogation about my role. It wouldn't even get 
that far. I told you, they know there's only one way you could get this 
information. That's what makes this such a *nifty* little trap."

"You see, I'm a liability now. My loyalties have been in serious 
question ever since you escaped, but I know too much about Centre 
Ops for them to cut me loose. All Lyle needs is something concrete to 
convince the Tower. Then he'll get the Tower to issue one of their kill 
orders and cut his little blonde Doberman loose."

"It doesn't make sense that they would go to all this trouble," he 
contradicted her, beginning to reason again. "There's nothing in what I 
do on the outside that affects the Centre directly."

"Maybe not at first, but come on Jarod. Fifteen million? What? Did you 
think they'd just say 'tough luck' and cut their losses? Besides, you 
don't know as much as you think about what they're up to. Your sims 
were only the tip of the iceberg. Some of their operations are a little bit 
more incendiary."

Jarod thought back about her earlier reference to the Waco massacre, 
and he began to get an idea of what exactly she was talking about. The 
Centre calling the shots for the most powerful government on earth. It 
wasn't a pleasant realization. 

"Lyle can't be sure of what you really know. I think he presumes that 
you haven't come after them because you're afraid that the end of the 
Centre would mean the end of your search for your family. But if I 
came out with the information you need, plus the things I know about 
Operations, they know we would make quite a team. If we were so 
inspired." 

She lapsed into silence, letting him think about it.

Jarod stood and walked toward the windows. He stared out, reliving 
the pain he had felt when he realized what they were doing with his 
sims. Then he thought about that time in Boston, when he had seen 
his mother on the street. It seemed like so long ago...he wondered if the 
nightmare would ever end.

"What about Sydney?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Syd is always too focused on the welfare of his individual *projects* to 
pay attention to Lyle's schemes. He worries about you especially. There 
was a time when he really thought that the safest place for you was the 
Centre. But I think he's had it with the lies and the killing too. Look at 
Jacob. It wasn't enough that the man's comatose, they wanted him 
killed. And that scene with you and I in your cell affected him very 
deeply. Besides, I think he suspects that there's more going on between 
us than meets the eye."

Miss Parker rose and moved to stand next to him. She met his eyes in 
their reflection. "My father is still missing," she began, "I know he has 
a lot more of the answers that I need. Especially about Mother. The 
Tower isn't stupid. They're using my father's absence as a means to 
keep me on a leash. But, I've had Broots hacking into the mainframe, 
trying to find his location. That's how I know the file on your family is 
being updated regularly. We've also found a list of Centre safe 
locations. Kind of like the Dragon House. I think he's being held in 
one, and when I find it, that's where I'll be headed."

Jarod remained silent, letting her continue.

"I came here tonight to offer you a deal, but you needed to have all the 
facts first."

She turned to look directly at him. "I'll do what it takes to get that file 
about your family out of my father's office if you'll help me get to him 
once I find out where he's being held." 

Before he could answer, she continued, "I can't ask Sydney or Broots to 
risk themselves for this. They'll help me get the file because it's for 
*you*, but ultimately it'll be my ass on the line when I sneak into that 
office. As for my father, I won't involve them. It's too dangerous, and 
this is between he and I. I may need help getting to him though."

She was quiet while Jarod tried to process everything she had just told 
him. A one-for-one exchange was what it came down to; a deal 
between equals. It was a lot more than he bargained for when he went 
to her apartment way back when, but it could result in the ultimate 
prize -- his family, and maybe even her. He knew anything was 
possible.

He looked her in the eye and nodded slowly.

Miss Parker couldn't hide the relief that flooded through her. "You 
understand that if this goes down as planned, they'll stop at nothing to 
kill us both."

"Yes," he said slowly, "But I do have one question,".

She raised her eyebrows.

"What will you do when you get to your father?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied in a brittle voice, "I'll have to work that 
out as I go along."

"Are you serious about taking them down?" he asked, keeping his 
voice blank.

"I don't know. They killed my mother, but it's a little more complex 
than that right now."

He knew she was referring to her father.

"Anyway, we'll be lucky to get that far," she finally said, weariness 
beginning to color her tone. Now that it was all over, she felt exhausted 
by the effort. "Look, I have to meet Sydney at O'Hare, early. We need to 
get to Denver tomorrow before someone notices our absence."

"Yeah, well I have practice in the morning," he responded, letting his 
eyes meet hers. "And there's still unfinished business for me in Kansas 
City."

He took a deep breath, continuing, "But we seem to have a few loose 
ends left here right now."

"Jarod, I understand that," she said in a rush, "But I have too many 
other things that require my concentration. It really *is* time to get 
back to the real world."

"Maybe tomorrow," he said quietly, his gaze darkening as he looked 
down at her, "But we can still have the rest of this night."

She moved toward him, reading his thoughts, letting the warmth of 
desire bleed feeling back into her. She knew he wouldn't ask a second 
time.

"Then make it go away Jarod," she breathed, tilting her face up to his. 
"Just for tonight..."

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly. Raising his head, he clasped her 
hand and led her back to the bedroom...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------
Oh, why you look so sad
The tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
'Cause I've seen the dark side too


When the night falls on you
You don't know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less


I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you...>
-- "I'll Stand By You" -- Pretenders 


The end.  

(All music selections from Jarod's personal CD collection.  The short 
skirt shoot out is, in fact, a Chicago tradition and can be seen at every 
home game, between the second and third period.  Jarod's last name, 
'Espo' is a reference to legendary Blackhawk goalie Tony Esposito...)


Soundtrack:


Song:  New World Man                    	Song:  Keep It Dark
Group:  Rush                            		Group:  Genesis
Album:  Signals                         		Album:  Abacab
Copyright 1982, PolyGram Records        Copyright 1981, Atlantic Records


Song:  Love Is Strong                   		Song:  Let's Go
Group:  Rolling Stones                  	Group:  The Cars
Album:  Voodoo Lounge                   	Album:  Candy-O
Copyright 1994, Virgin Records         	Copyright 1979, Elektra/Asylum 

Song:  Mysterious Ways                  	Song:  hurt
Group:  U2                              		Group:  nine inch nails
Album:  Achtung Baby                    	Album:  the downward spiral
Copyright 1991, Island Records          	Copyright 1994, Nothing 
Records


Song:  War Cry                          		Song:  Bleed
Group:  Joe Strummer                    	Group:  Collective Soul
Album:  Soundtrack to the movie         Album:  Collective Soul
'Gross Point Blank'                     		Copyright 1995, Atlantic Records
Copyright 1997, London Records


Song:  I'll Stand By You
Group:  Pretenders
Album:  Last of the Independents
Copyright 1994, Sire Records