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Title: Of Monsters & Men
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Pretender
Characters/Pairings: Sydney, Jarod/Miss Parker, mention of Broots and Debbie
Summary: Sydney has believed in a lot of foolish things in his time, but they aren't among them.
Wordcount: 1112
Notes: Set in an unspecified, rather optimistic future.
Of Monsters and Men
A long time ago, Syndey had met a monster, a monster in the midst of monsters, in a time when the world went mad. He'd been only a child, who hadn't understood, and when that monster had told him that he himself was a monster, that monsters were born and could never be anything else, he'd believed him. He'd believed him, and spent a terrible stretch of years proving him right, all the while thinking that he'd escaped that fate. He'd made himself the monster he'd promised himself he would never be, all in the hopes of making something better.
And then, he'd met a child. An innocent child, taken and given to the monster he had become, a child who hadn't understood. A child who understood more deeply than he'd ever given him credit for. That child's name was Jarod, and he had shaken Sydney's world to its core. He had wanted to give that boy everything, to make him believe that monsters were there to be vanquished, to give that innocent, gifted child the power and the will to make a better world, where monsters like Sydney didn't exist.
He'd loved him. He would always love him. And for a while, for a few precious years, he'd let himself believe that loving Jarod made him less the monster, and more the man. Loving Jarod let him love the others, Miss Parker, Broots, all of them. All his children. He'd believed that would be enough.
Sydney had let himself believe a lot of foolish things in his time, really.
A better world? A world without monsters? No. Not for him. Not when everything he'd given the boy he loved was a lie. Not when he'd hunted him, betrayed him. Not when the place he'd set his hopes on, the Center that he'd thought would make that better world, was a pit of vipers and killers. One that he'd blinded himself to, to try and hold onto the foolish hope that he wasn't the monster he'd made himself.
Watching Jarod run, watching him hunt, watching his beamish boy take up his vorpal sword against the Jabberwocks of the world ... he realised how much of a monster he truly was, and had always been. But there was more to the world than monsters, and maybe always had been. And it was right in front of him, running ahead of them with a smile and a mind like steel, fighting the dark. That had been when his hopes, his beliefs, changed once more.
This time, he'd decided to believe in Jarod. No matter what. Jarod would find a way to save himself, to destroy the Center. To save the others too, maybe, or at least help them save themselves. Miss Parker. Broots. Debbie. Kyle. Those that deserved it. Those that were strong enough to take it. He'd believed that.
He supposed he'd had to be right at least once in his life, after all.
"Syd, you may enjoying sitting around waiting to get even older, but some of us have lives to get on with!" Miss Parker stomped into the room, glare in full swing.
He looked up, smiling a little, a smile that only grew wider as she glared at it. "My apologies, my dear," he murmured, pulling himself to his feet, wincing as his hips twanged. Getting even older, indeed. Something shifted in her face, a flash of softness that would never, ever have shown before, when they had still been monsters, and she moved closer to offer him a hand, studiously looking elsewhere as he smiled gratefully and took it. Old habits died hard, and she'd spent too long hurting to be otherwise.
"Thank you, Miss Parker," he said, gently, stretching slightly to pull his bones back into more-or-less the right places. A couple clicked as they slid into position, and the expression that crossed her face was priceless.
"Don't mention it," she muttered, pulling away. "Really. Don't." And it was the hunter's voice, hard and confident, the old Miss Parker once more. Until another voice sounded from the doorway, and that same warm, bewildered expression slid into her eyes.
"Mention what?" Jarod asked, the picture of innocence, moving to stand behind her, rubbing her shoulders softly, hesitantly. "You two been up to something?" Sydney looked at them, at the furious, vaguely panicked look in her eyes, and laughed, harder as she moved to full-out glare, hand twitching for a gun that wasn't there, and Jarod looked at them in confusion. Chuckling, he did his best to pull himself together, opening his mouth to explain to his poor, bewildered boy.
"Don't you dare," Parker hissed, glowering, and it all but set him off again, while Jarod spun her around so he could study her face, his agile mind reaching out to search her thoughts. Sydney saw it, the moment Jarod recognised the mortified softness in her eyes, the caring so hastily disguised behind anger. He saw it the moment the love swam to the fore, the startled adoration of it, the way her shoulders stiffened in response, this child so unused to caring, so uncertain of it. He saw it, and his heart clenched inside him, with pain and sadness, and joy, and love. So much love.
Jarod leaned in, gentle and chaste like he didn't know what to do with himself, with these feelings, and she swayed towards him in return, jerkily, angrily, hopefully. Sydney bit his lip, turned his head with a smile so that the privacy of it, the strange sanctity, would not be marred. He turned, looking out over the garden, over Broots and Debbie as they waited impatiently for the rest of them to hurry up, over a brighter world, while his wounded children found a measure of peace together behind him, and he smiled.
A long time ago, a monster had told a child that he was monster born. A long time ago, he had told himself that he was a monster made. A long time ago, he had believed it. But not now. Now he knew better. Whether born or made, there was no monster that could not be vanquished. Because in a world full of monsters, there will always be those, wounded innocents, damaged but strong, who would fight for those weaker. Always those who would find a way to be free, to love, to be loved, despite it all.
He knew them. He cherished them, loved them, fought for them. And maybe, just maybe, in this world they had made ... he could be one of them.
A long time ago, a monster had told him he was a monster too. But you shouldn't always believe what the monsters say.
Monsters can lie, after all. Children and hearts rarely do.
