Tru Calling: Escape Into
A short fic inspired by Amethyst B's "Mind Games" story. Because she asked for it. Enjoy!
Imperfections. Blemishes.
The mirror reflects everything. The reflective glass shows an image of herself. One she wants to see.
(And one she doesn't.)
Dark marks crease underneath pale skin, an obvious sign of stress and lack of sleep. Facial features sunken in, even now. Weeks after Jensen's death. Weeks after her desperate plea. The weight of his arms a reassuring embrace, enveloping her and keeping her present.
Keeping her here.
(What happens, she wonders idly, if she lets go? If she let go?)
"Help me, Jack."
Weeks after Jensen's funeral, she'd broken another mirror. He remembers.
He was there.
He'd been there to stop her from injuring herself any further. Holding her back as the familiar crimson streak ran down the length of her arm and stained the pristine white tiles below. Her blood. An indelible reminder of pain beyond comprehension.
He had pulled her away from the mirror and sat her down elsewhere, carefully attending to the wound. His gentle touch made her shiver, an unsteady pulse of desire and longing.
Now, with the wound nearly healed and no need for a bandage, she stands before the same mirror. Absentmindedly, she traces an obscure pattern along her arm, not quite following the mark the scar has left behind.
Jack's voice pulls her from her reverie, a plethora of painful memories.
"Hey," he whispers breathlessly against the shell of her ear, arms encircling her waist. "Come back to bed."
She expels a breath, letting out a resigned sigh. Turning around in his arms, she faces him.
"Why?" she asks, brown eyes searching his crystalline blue ones.
"I need someone to keep me warm," he teases, moving aside an errant lock of un-brushed hair from her face.
A flicker of a smile creases her lips before she purses them together, seemingly lost in thought. She isn't looking at him anymore.
"Tru," he says softly, hands gently closing around her upper arms, a subtle attempt to keep her grounded. "What is it?"
"How long can this go on for?" she wonders aloud. "How much longer can I keep hiding this from them? Us?"
It's a loaded series of questions. Jack takes a step back to consider, searching Tru's eyes as she finally meets his again.
"I thought you were okay with this," he admits quietly.
Her voice rises in a sudden outburst of anger. "We're having sex!"
Tru moves past him in a few long strides, lingering in the doorway of the bathroom. He says nothing, the shock of her outburst igniting the nerves underneath his skin.
Back still facing him, she says, "At first, I… I thought it was all some sort of game. That night, when you took me into your arms, everything changed. It was comforting, but it was scary, too. I didn't know how to respond because no one's ever been that gentle with me. After that night, I… I did what I thought was best. I made it into a game."
"Except that night you broke the mirror," Jack adds.
"Except that night," she murmurs. "If there's no feelings attached, it's easier, right?"
"But there are feelings now," he counters. "I… I… care about you, Tru."
Warm tears gently cascade down her cheeks. She doesn't stop them. Doesn't attempt to wipe them away.
She turns back to him and he approaches her, wordlessly wiping her tears with his fingertips.
"I know you do," she replies, her eyes reflecting her answer back to him.
I care about you, too.
(She doesn't have to speak the words aloud.)
He kisses her forehead gently before gazing into her eyes again. "You need your rest," he reminds her and steers her in the direction of the bed.
Wrapping himself around her, she buries her face into the crook of his neck and inhales lingering traces of cologne on his bare skin. One of her hands rests comfortably against his chest, legs entangled with his.
She drifts off to sleep feeling safe and warm underneath a messy disarray of blankets.
On this particular night, it isn't about sex. It's about finding solace, a place she can escape into.
Fin
