Disclaimer: never been mine, nor will they ever be. I'm just borrowing them and I will put them back; no money-making intended. No reason to remove this story because all words belong to me. I made them up, I wrote them, I unleashed my imagination. Go delete other stories… or not.
Author's Note: No, not the sequel to "Starting Anew". Just some nice story in between. Looking forward to your reviews
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Broots helped Miss Parker getting up from the floor. She grimaced in pain and put her weight on her uninjured leg, leaning partially into the tech. "Thanks Broots, I really appreciate this," she said, turning her head towards him and smiling, for once a genuine smile.
Broots grinned mildly at that. This would never happen because stuff like that never happened outside of movies or bad TV shows - or clichéd stories written by people who should get themselves a life.
"Broots," Miss Parker snapped once she strode into the room.
The tech jumped at hearing her voice behind him. "M-miss Parker."
"Obviously. So, do we have anything on the elusive lab rat?"
Broots started to shake his head, waiting for the inevitable rant he would have to hear out but his boss' attention wasn't on him any longer. It was on the computer screen behind him. "Broots, what's that?"
He followed her line of vision. "Uhm, nothing," the tech winced and moved to close the site but Miss Parker's hand stopped him. He looked up at her but didn't dare meeting her eyes.
"Missing Pieces?" A brief pause. "What's that?" she asked again, emphasizing the two words, voice dropping to a low and threatening growl.
"That's some archive. I got the link from Barney… you know the one with the cleft lip and the big scar on his…," he rambled, his hands gesturing wildly.
"Broots, I don't give a damn about those details. I'd rather know about that," she pointed at the screen.
Unable to stop himself, his eyes followed her hands pointing towards the monitor. The words he had read there only minutes ago had lost their appeal. He sighed, and then turned back to the woman awaiting an answer. "It's an archive where people can post stories they have written."
"And you're reading those while on the job, passing away your time and Centre money?" she asked sweetly, the steel in her voice lying just underneath.
"Well, no. It's not… you see," he stumbled over the words. "It's kind of work related."
"I bet," she snorted, her features darkening some more.
For a moment, he hoped the earth would open up and swallow him whole – no such luck. "It really is. These stories are not any kind of stories. They are about… Jarod," he waited for a second, "and you, the Centre, Sydney, everyone…," his voice had dropped to a low whisper and he looked around, trying to make sure no one heard the words.
Cold blue eyes bore into him. "Care to elaborate," it wasn't a question.
"There are these people, all around the world, and they write this thing called fanfiction. And they post it in archives. These people often have a really good insight in what's going on and I've gotten quite a few hints as to what Jarod might be up to at a given point of time. There was one archive - Pretender.de; a really big one. Sadly, that board went down a few years ago but now some people are trying to rebuild it, calling it Missing Pieces. They're reloading the old stories and… what's more important for us, they are hosting recent stories as well. There could be hints about what Jarod's doing right now in those."
"Yes, missing pieces," Broots affirmed, pointing towards the screen again, showing the new archive.
A/N: People, if you're wondering... yes, this is real! The site mentioned does exist and is growing rapidly. Go, find your missing pieces at: missing-pieces . org