Title:       Pre-emptive Strike
Author:      DCE aka ViciousGurl
Email:       geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com
Web Page:    http://www.dlc.fi/~dce/fic/index.html
Archive:     Nowhere without my written permission.
Disclaimers: All Pretender characters and concept belong to MTM and 
             NBC Productions. No infringement is intended. This story,  
             however, is written and copyrighted by me.
Note:        This is my response to Emily Siazon's second picture 
             challenge.  
Feedback:    Yes, please :)



PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE
by DCE aka ViciousGurl
<geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com>
(c)2000


The house was quiet as Mr. Parker woke up. Glancing at the clock on
his bedside table he realized it was still early, the others wouldn't
be getting up for at least another hour. Easing himself carefully out
of the bed so as not to disturb his wife, he tossed on a bathrobe and
padded downstairs.

It was a beautiful, bright July morning but Mr. Parker's brows were
furrowed in deep thought as he made himself a cup of coffee. Today was
going to be a special day, in more ways than one, and no matter what
he did there were bound to be serious consequences. No, strike that.
Deathly consequences.

Taking his cup with him Mr. Parker went to sit on the porch, hoping
that the fresh air would help him make up his mind.

With a mirthless smirk, he thought the Tower would be most surprised
to learn that he felt he had a decision to make. They'd given him an
order, so that should've been the end of it. No discussion. No
troubled soul-searching. But, unfortunately, he was more than merely a
Centre employee. He was also a father. Granted, he wasn't the best
father in the world but he did love his Angel. And she was the one his
decision would effect the most. Devastate the most.

Sighing deeply, Mr. Parker felt a flash of anger towards the Tower.
Not for giving him the order but for not listening to him in the first
place. He'd been against the whole affair to begin with. He'd seen the
dangers of such a liaison and he'd made his views known to the Tower,
but they'd ignored his warnings. Until yesterday. Why they had waited
until the last possible moment to inform him of their change of heart
was anybody's guess. What really bothered Mr. Parker in the whole
scheme was how it had so obviously been orchestrated to test his
loyalty.

How dared they? Hadn't he proved himself to them time and again?
Hadn't he dedicated his whole life to the Centre? Hadn't he given them
everything, including his family? And yet they insulted him with their
ridiculous games.

Finishing his coffee, Mr. Parker went back inside and almost collided
with his daughter.

"Good morning, Angel."

Smiling, she gave him a warm hug. "Good morning, Daddy. Isn't it a
beautiful morning?"

"Not as beautiful as you are, Angel."

She'd obviously just woken up but she was radiant; full of life and
excited anticipation.

"You don't seem at all nervous," he remarked, handing her a cup of
tea.

"I know." She grinned a little. "I suppose I should be in jitters
already but I'm not."

A little clumsily, Mr. Parker patted her arm. "Well, you're a big
girl, you know what you're doing."

Waiting for her tea to cool down a little, Miss Parker sat down at the
table and waited for her father to join her. They rarely spent any
time together just talking unless it was Centre business. This morning
was already special but she wanted to have this memory of herself and
her father, spending a little quality time together, to make it
perfect.

"Did you have cold feet before you and Mom got married?"

"No. I knew exactly what I was doing, there was no need to
second-guess myself."

"So, you weren't even a little nervous?" Miss Parker gave him a
teasing smile.

"Doubts are for the weak." Mr. Parker missed his daughters smile. "If
your decision is the right one, you stick with it no matter what."

"And what decision would that be, dear?" Catherine Parker asked as she
joined them in the kitchen.

"Any decision."

"Speaking of decisions, I haven't been able to make up my mind. Which
do you think would go better with my dress, the pearls or the gold
locket?"

"The pearls, definitely," Miss Parker answered.

"You think so?"

As the women plunged into a discussion of their wardrobes and
accessories, Mr. Parker excused himself and retired back to the
bedroom. It was going to be a long day.


Several hours and a few phone calls later he escorted his two ladies
to a waiting limousine. As Catherine helped her daughter arrange her
dress so it wouldn't wrinkle badly on the way to the church, Mr.
Parker looked at them with some amount of pride.

Catherine was still as beautiful and graceful as the day he'd married
her, and his daughter... His baby girl was all grown up. She was about
to marry the man she loved and to start a family of her own. Despite
his doubts, Mr. Parker had to admit she looked happy.

Ignorance truly was bliss.


As he escorted his daughter down the isle to give her away, Mr. Parker
looked at the man who stood next to the altar, waiting for them. He
could remember what he'd been like as a child, when he'd first been
brought to the Centre. He'd wanted nothing more than to be sent back
to his parents. And now he was about to join *The* family within the
Centre. Talk about irony. But Jarod had always been a curious one.
Most Pretenders were.

Glancing at his daughter, Mr. Parker wondered if she'd ever be able to
forgive him, should she one day learn the truth. She looked lovely in
her white wedding dress, her hair combed up in a twist which left her
delicate neck exposed. She looked so much like her mother. But the
strength with which she'd forged an illustrious career for herself in
the Centre she'd gotten from him. There was no doubt in Mr. Parker's
mind that not only would she never forgive him, she'd most likely have
him 'cleaned'.

Finally, they reached the altar. As the young couple turned to face
the priest, Mr. Parker went to take his seat next to Catherine. But,
instead of listening to the priest he wondered if the Cleaners had
taken their positions, yet. He was itching to take a quick look about
but restrained himself admirably and forced his attention to the
spectacle before them.

The priest had just finished talking about the meaning of marriage and
of how seriously the vows should be taken. Then, addressing Jarod, he
spoke the old, familiar words.

"Do you take Michael Catherine to be your lawfully wedded wife, for
better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to
have and to hold from this day forward?"

Jarod turned his head so he could see his beautiful bride.

"I do."

"Do you promise to love, honor and keep her, forsaking all others as
long as you both shall live?" the priest continued.

"I do."

Mr. Parker witnessed the ceremony with ever increasing anxiety. The
Cleaners should've made their presence known by now. He'd specifically
told them to take care of the mess *before* the marriage was final.
With his lips pursed tightly together, he listened as the priest
turned to address his daughter.

"And you Michael Catherine, do you take Jarod Russell to be your
lawfully wedded husband, for better for worse, for richer for poorer,
in sickness and in health, to have and to hold from this day forward?"

"I do." Her voice was strong and clear.

"Do you promise to love, honor and obey him, forsaking all others as
long as you both shall live?"

As the priest got to the 'obey' part, Miss Parker gave her
soon-to-be-husband a teasing smile, but her reply was as solemn as she
could muster.

"I do."

With ever growing dread Mr. Parker watched the exchange of rings. If
those Cleaners didn't do their job before the priest uttered the final
words, he'd personally see them hang.

"By the authority invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and
wife. You may kiss the bride."

While the rest of the congregation was in tears over joy, Mr. Parker
concentrated on not exploding with rage. He didn't care if those
Cleaners were under orders from the Triumvirate itself, they'd be
history as soon as the wedding was over.


The reception was held by the water-front. It was a bit windy there
but no one seemed to mind as it was otherwise such a warm and lovely
day. Even the photographer ensured it was a perfect backdrop for the
wedding pictures. He burned a couple of rolls of film on the newlyweds
alone before moving on to shoot and mingle among the guests.

Mr. Parker feared he might become sick if he'd have to witness the
charade for much longer. His daughter was no longer a Parker, and it
seemed the Tower had once again changed its mind. There were no
Cleaners. There never had been. They had simply wanted to see if he'd
make those phone calls. Another test.

Shaking his head, he turned to watch the happy couple. They were
laughing as they tried to cut the cake together. It took a little
maneuvering but finally they managed to get the slice on a plate
without dropping it first. The guests cheered and the noise they made
almost drowned the sudden sound of shots being fired. It wasn't until
the groom's white shirt was beginning to turn red just above his heart
that anyone seemed to realize what was happening.

Then, all pandemonium seemed to break loose.

The screaming was deafening and it was impossible to say where the
shots had originated. Guests rushed to take cover behind tables and
trees, mothers clutching their children to them, praying they would be
safe. Mr. Parker watched everything happen as if in slow motion, not
bothering to duck, safe in the knowledge that the Cleaners were
already long gone.

His cocoon was broken by a scream from his daughter.

She was kneeling beside her husband who had fallen to the ground. He
was lying silently atop a crushed table, the wedding cake in a pile of
mush beside him. Mr. Parker watched his daughter scream her husband's
name, shaking him, trying to wake him but already knowing that it was
too late. Her beautiful wedding dress was soaked with blood and her
face which had only moments ago glowed with joy was now streaked with
hot tears.

"Jarod, don't leave me! Come back! PLEASE!"

Her voice broke down as she buried her face in the crook of her dead
husband's neck. Then, as if feeling Mr. Parker's eyes on herself she
raised her head and pointed a blood covered finger at him.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, DADDY! YOU DID THIS! I *HATE* YOU!!!"


Mr. Parker woke up with a start. His breathing came in harsh gasps and
he was drenched with cold sweat. Glancing to his right to make sure he
hadn't woken his wife, he got up and went to the kitchen. His hand
shook a little when he poured himself a glass of water but as he
gulped down the icy liquid he gradually calmed down. It had been a
dream. Nothing more. And it was over now.

Climbing back upstairs a little later, he paused to check up on his
daughter.

She was lying in peaceful slumber, her arms around her favourite
stuffed animal. Mr. Parker's face softened at the sight of the
sleeping child. Stepping closer to the bed he tucked the blanket
around her more securely. She was his little Angel.

Then, the softness in his eyes was replaced by determination. He knew
Angel sometimes sneaked in to visit Jarod. Catherine had told him to
ignore it, claiming that since both children were lonely there was no
harm in allowing them to play together every once in a while. No harm!
He should've known better. Starting the next day, there would be
tighter security in the Centre. There would be no more unauthorized
visits, and he'd make sure Sydney kept a tighter leash on the boy. No
test subjects would ever infiltrate their way into *his* family while
he was still alive!

With a final look towards his daughter Mr. Parker closed the door
behind himself and returned to bed.



The End