Tru Calling and Community Crossover: Lessons in Advanced Chemistry
One
The first thing Jack Harper learns about Britta Perry is that she used to be a foot model. Like, up until a few hours ago. She'd just been fired because her toenails started chipping and she started using organic chemical-free nail polish that didn't come in Pollyanna Pink or whatever. So now she was at her favorite bar in New York City nursing her drink of choice (always vodka, four olives) and feeling completely miserable.
Jack notices the pretty (but miserable) blonde and slides into the chair beside her.
He motions the bartender over. "One whiskey and one vodka for the lady."
Britta turns to him. "Do I know you?" she asks dubiously. He sticks out a hand, which she shakes. "Jack Harper. And now you do." He gives her a charming smile, one that disarms her for a moment.
"Britta," she replies carefully, clearly intrigued but holding back.
"No last name, Britta?"
Damn his charming smiles!
"Perry."
"So, Britta Perry, what brings you to this sacred watering hole?"
Britta chuckles. "You really don't wanna know."
"Try me."
After each of them both have another drink (another vodka for Britta and another whiskey for Jack), Britta tells Jack about her short-lived career as a foot model and that she'd just been fired, her brief volunteer stint at a women's homeless shelter, a spontaneous trip to Africa where she became temporary caregiver to a small camp of refugee kids and, briefly, her time vandalizing billboards, drinking and smoking cigarettes with a group of anarchists whom she called her "friends" in the dangerous parts of the city. Though she doesn't go into too much detail about her anarchist friends or that she was thinking about trying to find them again now that she no longer had a job.
"What about you?" Britta asked, gazing into Jack's gorgeous blue eyes. Did they even make guys this good looking anymore?
"I'm an EMT," he tells her. "I work in the heart of the city. I like my job because I feel like I can help people, you know?"
Britta nods, understanding.
Jack orders them each two more drinks.
By 2 AM, they're back at his apartment fumbling with each others' clothes, their laughter reverberating off the walls as they fall back on his bed together. He moves his hand gently down the bare skin of her back as her finger traces a pattern on his bare chest. Eyes glazed over in a drunken stupor, he leans over and kisses her lips gently. She falls asleep in his arms, happy for the first time in… wow, how long had it been?
By 6 AM, when the early morning sunlight streams through the windows of Jack's apartment, he opens his eyes and discovers she's gone.
Two
"What happened?" Jack asks as he approaches the scene. He sees a young blonde haired woman lying on a stretcher, her face and body bloodied and bruised. He approaches another EMT who looks at him through sad hazel eyes.
"Sonya, what happened?" he asks again.
"Someone called in… reported a woman found beat up in the alleyway… no wallet… no ID… but she needs help… stat."
"No one's been able to identify her?" Jack questions.
"Not yet," Sonya tells him. "And she keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, which makes it hard for us to get her name."
"Let me try," Jack offers.
He wanders over to the stretcher, looks down at the injured woman and takes a deep breath.
No one deserves this.
The messy tangles of blonde hair that cover her bloody and bruised face looks familiar as he quickly realizes it's…
"Britta?" Jack whispers softly. "Britta, can you hear me?"
She coughs suddenly as her eyes flutter open slowly and she winces in pain. It takes her a moment to recognize the blurry figure beside her.
"Jack?" she murmurs, barely audible.
"Yeah, it's me."
"I'm scared, Jack," she whispers.
"I can help you," he reassures her. "Just tell me what happened."
"One of my anarchist friends… he… I didn't know what he wanted and I wanted to leave the group. After I… I found them again a few nights after I first met you."
"And he beat you up because you wanted to leave?"
"I don't think it was just that. He had a lot of drug and alcohol problems… worse than mine. He just liked to control me because he thought he could."
"Well, whoever that bastard is, he won't hurt you again, okay?" Jack squeezes her hand as Britta looks at him, trusting him completely.
She feels a needle prick her skin, but she doesn't flinch. Sonya is giving her a sedative. Britta just focuses on the sound of Jack's voice as she drifts away.
"It's gonna be okay, Britta," he tells her. "It's gonna be okay."
Three
Waiting. That's all Jack seems to be doing. Just waiting.
"Aren't you on call right now, Mr. Harper?" the chubby angel faced nurse asks as she comes bustling into the hospital room to check on Britta's vitals.
"I'm on a break actually."
"I see," she says while checking Britta's IV line. She gestures to the unconscious blonde on the bed. "Girlfriend?"
Jack swallows, thinking a moment. "Something like that."
The nurse leaves as Jack looks over at Britta. She's finally starting to come to.
"Hi," she says drowsily, blinking a few times and looking into his eyes. "Where am I?"
"The hospital," Jack tells her quietly. "You were beaten pretty badly, Britta. Do you remember?"
She thinks for a moment, eyes going huge suddenly. "One of my anarchist friends… new leader of the group… he…" She tries to choke back tears.
"It's okay, Britta. You're safe here," Jack gently reassures her once more. "How do you feel?"
"Everything hurts. Feels like I was beaten with a sledgehammer and set on fire." Her voice is a whisper.
Not knowing what else to do, he takes one of her hands in both of his and squeezes it carefully. Then, leaning forward, his lips gently brush across her forehead. She looks at him, eyes full of trust and longing. This is not a look she shares with everyone, but for some reason, she lets her guard down in front of him. She trusts him, yet she can't explain why.
"Jack?" she whispers, tightening her hold on his hand.
"Yeah?"
"You'll stay with me, right?"
The words don't even have to be spoken. He leans over once more and this time captures her lips in his. And even when the drugs consume her again and she falls asleep, he still stays with her. An unspoken promise never broken.
Four
Two months later, Jack awakens to pounding on his door. He opens the door to find a familiar looking blonde standing in front of him.
"Oh, Jack. Thank God! I went to the bar and the bartender said he hadn't seen you around much. I was so worried."
She takes a step closer and tugs on the cotton fabric of his shirt as her lips crush his forcefully.
"Whoa, easy, Britta!" he exclaims as they break apart for air. "I've missed you, too."
She leans into him again, moving forward, as he closes the door behind them and sighs.
"I saw the news," Britta says quietly. "That guy who beat me up… he's in jail now… he…" she pauses, looking into his eyes. "You did that, didn't you? For me?"
"I only did what had to be done," Jack says, almost matter-of-factly. "What's important now is that you're safe."
"Thank you," she replies as she kisses him again.
He responds in kind, pressing his lips against hers and wrapping his arms around her back. Still… something feels… off.
She's the first to pull away. "Jack, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Then how come I don't believe you?"
"Believe what you want, Britta."
"Then tell me! I think I deserve to know." Frustration colors her tone. Then, softer, she runs her delicate hands along his arms and shoulders. "I love you." She lets the words stay suspended in the air until…
"You'll think I'm crazy. Hell, I'm not even sure what to believe anymore, so just…"
"Jack?" Her eyes meet his own, those sparkling eyes of hers so full of trust, longing and even desire.
"I'm admitting myself to the Shankman Center, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"
"What… I… I don't understand. The Shankman Center is a psychiatric facility. Why? But you're not…"
"I've been reliving days, Britta. It started after a near death experience I had two weeks ago. I have my own fucking personal Groundhog Day!"
Silence. Britta does not respond.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jack spits out angrily. "Just leave, okay?"
He turns around, ashamed, away from her.
She takes a deep breath; her voice is soft but firm.
"I believe you, Jack. And I trust you, remember? Because you're the only…"
She's cut off suddenly by his mouth against hers as he has already turned around again and embraced her. She tells him what he needs to hear.
His lips move along her jawline and down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses on her soft skin. His voice, silky and smooth, reaches her ear. "I want you, Britta."
It makes her shiver as her hands tug at the fabric of his shirt once more, successfully pulling it off this time.
By the time they reach the bedroom, a trail of clothes is in their wake. The bare skin of Britta's back hits the mattress first as Jack tumbles down with her.
Before she finally falls asleep in his warm embrace, an arm wrapped around the small of her back holding her close, the last thought that enters her mind is whether or not she'll ever feel this way again. Content at last with someone she completely trusts. His hand rhythmically stroking her hair lulls her into unconsciousness before she can entertain those thoughts again.
Five
"Britta, for the last time, we are not getting a cat Buddha!" Jeff Winger looks at his fiancée expectantly.
"Oh, come on!" she says, holding up the cat figurine. "I think it's cute."
"It's terrifying."
"Jeff…" she tries to object.
"Britta, sweetheart, we already have four one-eyed live cats. That's the reason we're moving into a bigger place together. Why would you need a stone cold one? It's not like this cat will curl up in your lap and purr Kumbaya."
She just gives him a look. "And you called me the buzzkill at Greendale? I think you should reconsider your words, Winger."
"It's called tough love, cookie. Deal with it."
Britta makes her best sour face at him. Just then, she feels her cell phone buzzing. She looks at the Caller ID on the display screen. Jack Harper.
Why is he calling me? Why now? It's been…
She can't even think about how long it's been. She turns to Jeff.
"Hey, I need to make a call outside. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"
"Fine. I'll just go fill our cart with more hair gel," he says, smirking.
"Don't you dare!"
Jeff laughs as Britta rushes out to return Jack's call. She sits on a bench outside the store.
"You rang?" she asks when she hears him pick up on the other end of the line. "It's been about… what… five years and you decide to call me now?"
"Why not? Listen… I know we weren't… I mean…"
"We had something special… a connection that we just let disintegrate. I know."
Silence. Jack doesn't say anything.
"So listen…" they both say in unison.
"You first," Jack offers.
"I met someone," Britta tells him. "When I moved to Greendale, I went to community college there and I met someone. We're together now. I really like him. And sometimes he's a giant douchebag just like you!"
"Thanks," Jack says wryly. "I met someone, too, actually. She's amazing. We're getting married next month and I was wondering…" A pause. "Britta, would you like to come to my wedding? You can bring your… ummm…"
"My fiancée?"
"Yeah, him," Jack finishes awkwardly. "If you want to."
"I think I'd like that. But let me ask him first, okay?"
"Absolutely," Jack agrees.
"Okay, well… I gotta go. He's probably wondering where I am."
"I understand."
"We'll be in touch. I'll let you know," Britta replies.
"Great," Jack tells her. "Oh, and Britta?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what, Jack?"
"For being amazing… and just… well, for being you."
Fin
Author's Note: This is my contribution for Other Pairings week on the Community 101 LiveJournal for Community Summer School 2011. Had to write this cuz I love this crossover pairing SO much! They are still my guilty crack ship and, for some reason, they seem like they would be perfect together! For a time at least. This is also my first time writing a "Five Times" fic! I also would LOVE to see Jason Priestley guest star on Community where his character would be a love interest from Britta's past. Or one of Jeff's rivals. Well, I can keep dreaming, right? Anyway, please review!