Tru Calling: Quicksands of Ambivalence
Title comes from the poem 'Love Is A Parallax' by Sylvia Plath
You stand by the doorway watching her. She stares at the bathroom mirror with her back to you, her face a careful blank. Exhaustion starts to settle in around her. You stand there, one side of your body leaning against the door frame as your eyes trace the contours of her neck and back. She's the first one to speak, but her tired, weary voice is barely a whisper.
"I couldn't save them. Any of them. That whole family. Is there… is there something wrong with me?"
You briefly wonder if she meant to say that aloud, but then you push the thought from your mind and answer her anyway.
"There's nothing wrong with you." Your voice is softer than even you expect it to be and you step forward as you move into the pool of light that has cast a circle behind her. You place a gentle kiss on the crease of her neck and then whisper, "You're not meant to save everyone."
She flinches as if the comment stings. A moment of silence passes before she replies.
"Do you feel this way when I win? When I save someone?"
Yes.
"No," you reply as you take a deep breath. "This isn't some kind of game, Tru. Life and Death don't work that way. I just accept it and move on."
But it's not that easy. It never is…
She leans back against you and you feel her gradually start to relax into your embrace as you pull her into your arms.
"How… how can you see so much death every single day and not…"
"And not what?" you whisper back.
"And not feel guilty for being responsible for their lives? I couldn't save that family. A mother, a father, their three children. They're all dead because I couldn't save them."
"Well, I didn't make things easy for you either. Our day rewound five times today… or whatever these are," you remind her.
"I never asked for easy, Jack. All I've ever asked for were answers. Why me?! Why do I feel this way every time I can't save someone? Why can't I save the people that I love… the people who depend on me..."
"But you do. You have. I've seen it."
"It doesn't feel like enough," she replies. "I still have too many questions and not enough answers."
Your fingers absently play with a lock of her hair. "You'll find them. I know you will."
The weight of her body suddenly becomes heavier as she nearly collapses against you and you notice her eyes start to flutter as her legs have already begun to give way.
"Easy, Tru. Easy… easy…" You struggle momentarily as you take her into your arms and carry her to her bedroom and tuck her beneath the soft sheets.
"We've both had some long days and you're exhausted. You should try and get some sleep."
"Stay, Jack," she begs you softly. She wants you here despite questioning your motives, despite knowing what you are, who you are, what you represent to her and to the universe. She wants you to stay.
You don't respond and wordlessly climb into the bed beside her. Your breath nearly catches in your throat when she moves toward you and rests her head comfortably against your chest. You hear her breathing softly not even five minutes later and you know she's fast asleep. But you dare not fall asleep yet as you contemplate what this means in your relationship with her.
It is as if quicksands of ambivalence have enveloped you in their unwavering grasp and will not let you go. Your feelings for her are balanced precariously between right and wrong, destiny and fate.
I love you, Tru.
But you dare not speak the words aloud for fear that they might be true. And then what? How will you deal with those feelings if they are?
(You know they are.)
You lay awake contemplating these questions, reflecting on the rewind day that never seemed to end as you listen to her deep and even breathing. You have one arm protectively around her as your hand absently runs along her back and then moves up to stroke her soft strands of hair.
There's no such thing as goodbye when you weren't even able to say hello that morning. So you leave because you don't want to say goodbye; you don't want to face the consequences of what your relationship with her means when she wakes up.
You disentangle yourself from her and you hold your breath when she stirs slightly. When she doesn't wake, you breathe a sigh of relief as you look down at her sleeping form. Then you bend over and gently kiss her forehead.
I'm sorry, Tru.
You know you can't stay. When you leave, sunrise is still an hour away.
She wakes two hours after sunrise, her hand reaching out to the space where you lay beside her hours before. Her hand searches for you, for your warmth, your comfort, but when she finds nothing, she knows you didn't stay.
Fin.
Author's Note: So the story summary is a prompt that was inspired by my friend for something completely different, but I thought this would work, too. The style of this fic was inspired by the amazing writer Amethyst Blizzard and her beautiful Buffy fic entitled 'Drown It Out.' I've never written in this style before. The title, as stated above, comes from a Sylvia Plath poem. Her work seems to be inspiring a lot of my fics lately! What I wanted to address in this fic specifically was the sense of conflict I feel being a Tru Calling fan. Tru Calling is my favorite show in the entire world, yet sometimes I feel ashamed in being such a huge fan because of all of the negative backlash it's gotten in the industry. It's the show that inspired my future career as a TV writer and I'm learning to be okay with that. However, the word "ambivalence" seemed to mirror my thoughts perfectly, so I went with that and the theme of uncertainty in regards to Tru and Jack's relationship, even though they may have slept together before. I hope that all makes sense!