Tru Calling: Finding Her Way Home

For my hc_bingo prompt "wildcard." For my wildcard I chose the prompt "forced to face fear." Hope it fits with the story I have in mind as this story has been on my mind in some form for several weeks now, but it still turned out way differently than I expected!

Enjoy!

"You know I hate admitting this," Harrison Davies says as he pulls his sister's hair back as she retches, coughing and heaving into the toilet bowl. "But you have to tell him."

The moment she stops vomiting Tru Davies looks up, hand reaching out and flushing the toilet. She's careful as she gets up from a kneeling position and heads to the sink to rinse out her mouth.

As she wipes her mouth with a clean towel, she turns toward her little brother. "Not going to happen, Harrison. It's not that simple."

"I know it's not easy, Tru. Hell, I don't even like the guy, but-…"

"But I think this is the end of this discussion," Tru snaps. "What do you want me to tell him? 'Hey, Jack, remember that night when we got into an argument and gave into our feelings? Well, now I'm stuck dealing with the repercussions.'"

"You can always go back to the women's healthcare clinic with Avery and-…"

"I told you, Harrison," Tru states firmly, aggravated and beyond nauseous. "I'm not getting an abortion. I can take care of this baby myself. Davis is willing to give me a more flexible work schedule and I'll just take fewer classes per semester in order to finish med school. I'm not going to let a baby derail me from doing my work."

Harrison follows Tru out of her bathroom and into a small living room where they sit next to each other.

He sighs deeply, running a hand through his messy, tangled dirty blonde hair. "I should know better than to argue with my stubborn sister."

Tru chuckles, a protective hand lingering on her still taunt stomach. She looks down, eyes tracing the contours of her hand. "Your Uncle Harrison is such a worrywart. But we'll be okay, won't we, baby girl?"

Raising a quizzical eyebrow, Harrison studies the dark-haired woman beside him. "Girl? But it's too early to-…"

"I just know, okay?" Tru interrupts, sighing. She thinks for a moment, considering her next words carefully. "It's… it's hard to explain, but it's just this feeling I have that I can't seem to shake."

Silence descends on them for a few moments until Harrison speaks up again.

"I realize it would be wrong of me to argue with your motherly intuition, so how about this: When she sees her friends at school whose Daddies pick them up and she asks about her Daddy, what exactly are you planning on telling her?"

Tru's eyes lock with Harrison's, an overwhelming surge of realization suddenly sinking in.

"Mommy?" Large brown eyes gaze curiously into Tru's own eyes. She tries not to study the contours of her six-year-old daughter's face, the resemblance to him a persistent memory. Every time she looks at her daughter, she sees him. Something she can't escape from.

"What, baby?" Tru asks, moving aside her daughter's crutches and placing the little girl on her lap.

"How come you never talk about Daddy?"

"Daddy's gone. You know that," Tru replies. "Past the sun and the moon and the stars. Some place that you can't see."

"In heaven?"

"Yes, Clarity," she tells her, kissing her forehead, and allowing the lie to seep further into her body. Unwilling to face her fear of the glaring truth. "In heaven."

"I don't want to major in Biology, Mom," Clarity states, closing her Biology textbook and shuffling her homework to one side of the table as Tru prepares dinner.

"You're sixteen. You don't have to make a decision right now. I'm just saying that it might not be a bad idea."

Clarity licks her lips. "I don't want to study medicine. Why can't you accept the fact that I don't want to follow in your footsteps?"

"I'm not-…" Tru starts to object.

"Then stop trying to fix me!" Clarity yells, her unexpected outburst startling her mother who places a hot dish of green bean casserole on the kitchen table. "You've had me in physical therapy for as long as I can remember. My disability isn't a disease. It's just something I was born with and have to live with for the rest of my life. You've always told me I could do whatever I set my mind to, but over the years you've been subtly pushing me to study science. I'm not you, Mom. I can't be you."

Tears well up in Tru's eyes. "I know that, sweetheart. I just thought that maybe-…"

"I want to write, Mom. That's what I want to do. But why does it feel like you resent me for wanting to give something else a try?"

Tru falters, unable to give her teenage daughter an explanation.

Clarity picks up her crutches, which are propped against the table beside her. "I'm going to my room," she declares, standing up. "I'm not hungry anymore."

At a loss for words, Tru watches her daughter walk away, knowing better than to follow after her. Sighing deeply, she sits down and puts her head in her hands as she finally allows the tears fall.

The lie that she's held onto lingers persistently, sharp and nagging, in her mind and she wonders if now is the time she should finally tell her daughter the truth about Jack Harper.

The truth about her father. She wonders if she should face the fear in her perpetual lie.

(But she doesn't.)

Twenty-one year old Clarity Davies walks down the university hallway intent on getting to her upper division fiction writing class on time. The building that houses the university's English department has an antiquated feel yet remains spacious and overwhelming.

As she approaches the door to her fiction writing class, a young man's voice stops her. "Excuse me? Would you like me to hold the door for you?"

Clarity smiles at the young man, who looks only a few years older than her, immediately taking notice of his crystalline blue eyes and sandy brown hair. "That would be great. Thanks."

Once she walks in, he follows behind her. She chooses a vacant seat in the front of the classroom and he sits down in the seat next to hers.

She puts her crutches underneath her desk and removes her backpack, taking out a notebook and a pen. Sensing the young man's gaze on her, she looks at him and smiles.

"So… English major?" he asks, attempting to strike up conversation.

"Creative Writing," she replies. "This is one of my required courses. You?"

"I'm actually a graduate student in the English Literature department. My emphasis is on fiction written by women writers. This course is just an elective. I also have a graduate minor in philosophy."

"Wow. So are you going the professor route?"

"Not sure yet," he says. "This is only my first year. I'm Hunter, by the way. Hunter Martin."

"Nice to meet you," Clarity replies, sticking out her hand. "I'm Clarity. Clarity Davies."

"That's a beautiful name. Very unusual."

She casually tucks her hair behind her ear. "My Mom had an unusual name, too. Guess it runs in my family."

Hunter's brow creases. "…Had? Sorry. I don't mean to pry. You don't have to elaborate if you don't want to."

Clarity looks away, not meeting his eyes when she speaks. "My mother died when I was 17 and she never liked to talk about my father, so…"

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he responds genuinely.

"But my Uncle Harrison and Aunt Avery are amazing. They've been so supportive. I don't know what I'd do without them." She chuckles, hesitating. "Sorry. I mean… sometimes I have a tendency to over share and that's probably not what you wanted to hear…"

He smiles. "It's okay. Must give you an interesting perspective on your writing."

"Absolutely," she agrees.

"Hey, do you want to grab a cup of coffee sometime? I know we're both busy, but I'd love to talk more. You know, if you're interested."

Hunter flashes her a charming smile as Clarity feels her cheeks become warm.

"I'd love to."

Several hours later, as Hunter makes his way to his car, his cell phone rings.

"Hello?"

"You made contact with her today?" The man's voice on the other end of the line speaks with unwavering authority despite being raspy with age.

"Isn't that what you asked me to do?"

"Let her open up to you," the voice continues. "Get close to her, but not too close."

"You don't sound like you trust me."

"Her parents, despite their brief rendezvous, were quite remarkable. Powerful. Unbeknownst to either of them. This young woman is capable of more than she realizes. Her abilities yield great consequences. Consequences you or I cannot fathom."

"And what about my abilities?" Hunter asks. "She's your granddaughter. Just help me understand why-…"

"Yes, she is my granddaughter," the voice belonging to a much older Richard Davies interrupts. "But it changes nothing."

Richard leaves Hunter with a dial tone before he has a chance to respond.

"I don't know, Hunter," Clarity sits forward in his car, looking out of the passenger side window. "Are you sure this is his apartment building?"

"Positive."

She draws in a deep breath, facing him. "I can't… I can't do this… I mean, it's not like he's going to recognize me. I'm scared."

"Hey," Hunter whispers, his voice reassuring. "We've spent months… almost a year trying to track him down once you discovered he's still alive. Don't give up now. Your mother wouldn't want that, would she?"

Clarity sighs deeply, playing with a lock of her hair. "She would want me to be happy."

"And finally finding your father makes you happy?"

"Of course it does," she replies without hesitation. "But if he-…"

"Don't," he interrupts again. "Don't worry about any of that. Just focus on the present and be yourself."

His gaze lingers on her sparkling brown eyes momentarily before they drift down to her lips as he pulls her close for a brief yet passionate kiss.

When they break the kiss, Hunter takes a moment to study her before speaking. "Go. This might be your only chance."

She nods in confirmation, opening the car door. Hunter gives her the crutches as she carefully gets out and heads toward the door.

Hunter watches, his gaze never leaving the young woman he's gradually fallen in love with. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Richard had already warned him about the dangers of falling in love with his opposite.

Meanwhile, Clarity raises a sweaty, shaking hand, knocking on the apartment door.

She's been waiting for this moment for twenty-two years and when the door finally opens and an almost fifty-three year old Jack Harper gazes at her curiously, a strange familiarity that he can't place washing over him, Clarity finally realizes that she's one step closer to finding her way home.

Fin.

Author's Note: I've been wanting to write a "next generations" type fic for awhile now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity! I realize there are still a lot of gaps and unknowns left to fill in this story, but I wrote it this way on purpose in hopes it would spark the imaginations of my fellow fans and they can fill in the blanks themselves. Although if anyone reading this has any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me! Thanks for reading!