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Title: Random Connection Author: thesilentpoet Rating:… - The Jarod and Kyle Refuge [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The Jarod and Kyle Refuge

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[Feb. 12th, 2007|09:13 pm]
The Jarod and Kyle Refuge

jarodxkyle

[thesilentpoet]
Title: Random Connection
Author: thesilentpoet
Rating: PG/PG-13 for some inferred sexual and incestual references.
Disclaimer: I own all four seasons of the Pretender, but sadly none of the characters.
Author Note’s: Does link loosely to my current AU series (A Place to Start and Gathering Blue). Idea stemmed from episode of House, where Patrick Bachau guest-starred as Dr. Robert Chase’s estranged father. No previous knowledge of House is really required, other than just to know that little detail. (Though the show is worth for the House/Wilson interaction alone). Set post-Gathering Blue, but pre-as-of-yet-untitled-or finished-written-sequel.



He frowned, just slightly, at the loud ‘click’ of the action, and he glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping from still in the bed. Still no movement – must still be asleep, he assured himself, and he turned his gaze to the screen again.

He scanned the article quickly: a doctor, died between one and two years ago, survived by a son, the son and father estranged. Jarod grimaced, and scrolled further down.

A photograph.

Had to be the doctor, not smiling, but not quite frowning either, just serious, contemplative, and very familiar wrinkles.

Jarod swore – loudly.

“Pfffftistiwatft?” came a response, muffled in the pillow.

Jarod flinched. “I woke you. Sorry.”

“Wasn’t asleep,” was the answer, no longer muffled. “You found something?”

Jarod turned in the chair, eyeing Kyle carefully. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Couldn’t.” The younger man shrugged, sitting in the bed, yawing, with hair sticking every which way. “Bad dream. What did you find? Is it about our parents?”

Jarod sighed, but let the matter go. “I don’t know. It’s…”

“What?”

“A photograph. I don’t know the man, but… he looks just like Sydney, and Jacob.”

“Exactly?”

“Exactly,” Jarod nodded. “He was a doctor. Last name of Chase. Dr. Rowan Chase. I’m still not entirely certain what he studied.”

“Think he’s connected to the Centre?”

“I doubt it.” He scanned through the article again, careful to ignore the eyes in the photograph. “Raised in Belgium, schooled in England and France. Appears he studied for a year at the Sorbonne before he went into medicine, university in Hamburg in Germany. Settled in Australia, raised his family there. Since passed away.”

“I found nothing on him.”

“You didn’t know to look for him,” Jarod’s voice was soft, reassuring.

“Is… is he related to…?” Kyle’s response was just as soft, his tone uncertain.

Jarod swallowed, closed his eyes. “I’m not sure, although there is a good possibility. If he was… maybe their mother didn’t know, or maybe he was sent, in hopes to save one son.” Jarod shook his head, eyes still closed. “I don’t know.”

“So, it’s another dead end.” Kyle’s voice was curt again, previous emotion gone. He fell back against the pillows. “Right back to the beginning.”

“Again,” Jarod agreed, opening his eyes. He fumbled with the switch before the computer finally turned off. He sighed, swiveled in the chair to face his brother. “Once too many, again.”

“Forget it then,” Kyle said. “You should sleep.”

“Not sure I could.”

“So, don’t.”

Jarod sighed. He stood, crossing the few steps from the chair to the desk, and he sat on the edge of the bed, a hand running over the comforter, feeling the shape of Kyle’s legs underneath. Kyle watched him silently, unmoving, eyes trained, posture alert.

“The son is in New Jersey,” Jarod mumbled, sidling up the blanket, moving over Kyle, arms braced on either side of the younger man’s head, his legs between Kyle’s, the blanket still between them. “Also a doctor.”

“Planning to pay him a visit?”

“No.” The response was terse, and Kyle chuckled just slightly. “Too close to Delaware,” Jarod added as way of belated, and unnecessary explanation.

“Oh.” Kyle lifted his legs from underneath the blanket, and wrapped them around Jarod’s waist. “Then stop mentioning it,” he murmured, a hint of threat underneath the grin, and he lifted his head to meet Jarod’s lips with his own, and with a last sigh of protest, Jarod collapsed on top of him, hands letting go of the linen, only to move behind head and hair.
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