Tru Calling: Cyanide
Author's Note: Happy Birthday to my dear friend Liz! This is NOT what I was expecting to write AT ALL, but my friend e-mailed me a story she wrote and it struck me, which got me thinking a lot about Jack. Really angsty, super dark themes (mentions of various forms of death). Please forgive me… Oh, and this is my first time writing about Jack suffering in this way. Usually, I write about Tru suffering and how Jack helps her through it, but that's not the case with this fic. Again, this is SUPER DARK, so I'm giving it an M rating!
As a chosen representative of Death, Jack Harper now spends much of his time awake thinking about life. Life in the form of his opposite, Tru Davies, and life being the life he's meant to live beyond these metal bars of confinement.
He lays there, arms and legs bound by thick leather straps. The harder he tries to escape, the more resistance he meets.
Shit.
He's lost track of time now. He knows it's been at least two days, but it feels like an eternity. The walls around him give no indication of how much time has passed and even looking through the metal bars does little to calm his frenetic state of mind.
So he waits.
He listens for the echoing footsteps that bring him a twisted form of salvation, footsteps that loom closer and reveal the threatening presence of another man.
His mentor Richard Davies.
Mentor turned adversary.
Funny how that works.
Finally, he hears the long awaited footsteps.
Closer, closer…
The metallic clack of keys turn inside a lock as the metal bars give way and the door slides open.
"Hello, Jack."
He hears Richard's voice before he sees the unfathomable blackness in Richard's piercing eyes. He makes a valiant effort to fight against the restraints, to fight against his dire circumstances.
Jack's voice drips with a venomous tinge. "Where is she? What did you do to her?"
His ears fill with Richard's throaty chuckle, the reverberation of his laughter chilling his core.
"You know what I did, Jack. I think you know quite well."
As Richard's face comes into Jack's line of vision, Jack does the only thing he can think of. He spits, fresh saliva landing directly on his former mentor's face.
Nonchalantly and barely twitching, Richard pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and dabs at his skin.
"Jack, my boy…" His voice leers with condescension.
"Fuck you," Jack intones, his voice low and deadly. "Where is she?"
Richard walks around the table that Jack remains tied to, the vibrant blue of Jack's eyes watching Richard's every move like a hawk narrowing in on its prey.
"She's dead. I killed her," he replies calmly. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Though Jack's suspicions about Tru were crystal clear before Richard dared to open his mouth, Jack's heart sinks at confirmation of what he suspected hours ago.
Tears threaten to sting his eyes, but he knows better than to expose himself emotionally. His tears remain concealed by anger, a forceful thrust against the restraints that hold him down.
"You're a monster!" Jack exclaims furiously.
"And you aren't?" Richard counters. "You've ensured the deaths of others before. How is this any different?"
"Because she's your daughter!" Jack retorts.
"Tragic, I know," Richard says, his voice belying any sense of remorse. "But I only did what had to be done. I did it to end the balance."
"Why?"
"Surely you didn't want Tru's abilities to pass on to your unborn daughter, did you? Or what about yours, for that matter?"
"You killed two people," Jack seethes, face contorted in rage and pain. "You killed your own daughter and my unborn child, tied me up, tortured me and now you lecture me? You're worse than any representative of Death could ever be. That's not how this works, Richard. And you know it."
Jack's spiteful words earn him a punch to the face, his skin already purple from previous bruises and interspersed with flecks of red from his bleeding lips.
"You're weak," Richard reminds him. "You fell in love with my daughter instead of doing your job. You sacrificed yourself for her on many occasions and you helped a new life grow inside of her. That's when I knew this all had to end. And it'll end with you. With your death."
Jack curses, breathing heavily and screaming at Richard through clenched teeth as he moves away and leaves Jack alone, cloaked in darkness.
"I'll see you later, Jack."
Beads of sweat form along Jack's forehead and he wishes he could wipe them away along with the tangy taste of blood that resides in his mouth.
Richard wants Jack to suffer, to endure pain in earning the badge of Death. His own death the most painful of all because the woman he loves is already gone.
Death in any other form seems preferable to this slow and monotonous rhythm of torture. Lethal injection remains a possibility, but Richard will never do something that easy. He's a manipulator, carefully crafting each scenario as each scene plays out by his set of unfounded rules and stipulations.
He considers death by cyanide, lurking in the tasteless food that Richard provides for him, but even that seems too obvious. The poisonous knowledge of Tru's non-existence far surpass any amount of toxic barbiturate or cyanide tablet coursing through his bloodstream during his final moments.
The soft glow of light filters through the room suddenly and Jack instantly knows his hallucinations of her have returned.
"Tru," he pants, struggling for desperate gasps of much-needed oxygen as sweat continues to drip down his face. "Not now… please…"
He feels a cool cloth rest against his forehead, the feather-light touch of her fingertips stroking his cheek.
"It's okay. It's okay, Jack. I'm here."
Her voice is a calming intoxication.
"No. No, you're… you're not real."
"I'm as real as you want me to be," she tells him, an irresistible glowing aura surrounding her as the delicate features of her face come into view.
Tears fall from his eyes now and blur his vision as her fingers gently wipe them away.
"There's someone here who wants to meet you."
Tru lifts a little girl into her arms, her eager brown eyes nearly making Jack cringe. This child could not be more than four or five years of age and she bore an eerie resemblance to his now deceased lover, the woman who consumed his hallucinations during his darkest hours.
"Say hi, Clarity," she whispers to the little girl. "Say hi to Daddy."
"Hi, Daddy."
He finds his voice before he can stop himself from giving into the hallucination even further. "Hi, princess."
Tru carefully leans Clarity over Jack and he feels slight pressure as Clarity gently kisses her father's forehead.
His voice fills with emotion, choking out words. "Promise me something, baby. Wherever you are now, I need you to take care of Mommy for me, okay?"
"I promise, Daddy."
"It's time now, Jack," Tru says. "We have to go."
"No. But you just… Please stay… Please…"
"And only moments ago you wanted me to leave," Tru reminds him.
"I know. I don't care. Please… stay," Jack begs, giving into the hallucination.
It's the only thing he has left to cling to anymore. His last fading memories of her as he slowly – painfully – nears his own death.
"I can't. I'm sorry. I love you."
Seconds later, she vanishes with their daughter. The soft glow dissipating from the dark room as black oblivion threatens to creep back in.
Suddenly, he doesn't crave the desire to live anymore. He craves the bitter, forbidden tang of death. The endless black abyss.
At least in death, he'd be reunited with Tru and their daughter. Death would bring him salvation. His own death would bring him the answers he failed to respond to in life.
He shuts his eyes against the unbearable darkness, imagining the cyanide pill coursing its way through his bloodstream and welcoming him to the other side.
Fin.