Chapter Three: Veil of Illusion
He almost did not want to awaken her.
She laid still, seemingly content in sleep.
She was peaceful.
One would never know how much she struggled there.
How much she suffered.
But he did.
It was more of an intuition, a sharp pang that gutted him and brought him here to see her.
He could feel her pain as it reverberated off of her sleeping form and was sucked into the singed veins of his bloodstream.
For he had felt this way too.
Hopeless.
Helpless.
Lost.
"Tru, wake up," the sharp urgency in his voice surprised him. His hand glided across her chest as her eyes slowly began to flutter.
She flinched.
He took his hand away.
Her vision was blurred as she tried to make out the tall figure looming over her. A feeling of warmth flooded through her as she resurfaced gradually back into consciousness.
Or as conscious as she could be in this state.
She was never sure of this anymore. Yes, she knew why she was there, but where was there?
Was it on some uncharted ethereal plane?
Was it some predestination to purgatory?
Where?
And why was he there?
He really wasn't there, was he?
No.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
Only her and Jensen belonged there.
Together.
She was merely cloaked in some veil of illusion.
Or disillusion even.
But it felt so real.
So vibrant.
So alive.
"Jack?" she whispered quietly, suddenly fully awake as she tried to take in what was before her.
Her salvation.
Her savior.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here because you want me here, Tru," Jack replied softly, as his fingers traced a vivid memory in the intertwining twists of her dark curls. He would always remember them like this.
So uniquely her.
"But I can't stay long."
Her voice cracked hopelessly. "Why not?"
"You don't want him finding out, do you?" he asked softly, wiping away a stray tear that started to fall down her cheek with the very tip of his thumb.
She shook her head dismissively, looking down as she spoke.
"No."
He gingerly lifted her chin to meet his warm gaze.
"Come back to me," he urged gently. "I need you. I need you to come back to me. You can't stay here like this."
"What if I want to?" she retorted, her voice soaked in bitterness. "It's my choice."
"We both know this isn't your real choice, Tru. And Jensen knows that as well. That's why he wants to keep you here."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Tru shot back. "It isn't like that here."
Jack sighed.
For a second; for one single moment, Jack was impressed.
He was impressed by Jensen's insatiable craving for her. How he wanted to consume every part of her so ravenously and how she fell into the clench of his enticing darkness.
And she continued to fall.
She continued to fall long and hard, even as she stared into Jack's pleading orbs of bright crystalline blue.
"I understand what you're going through, Tru. I understand because I was once in your position. When I was at the Shankman Center, I felt lost. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore because nothing made sense to me."
He paused.
"And then I came out of it."
Another pause.
"How?"
A tender smile crept across Jack's lips.
"I met you."
Tru startled at his words and she drew back from him in utter shock, overcome with flooding disbelief.
Seconds later she regained her previous composure.
One which was shrouded in an enticing darkness.
She pursed her lips together.
"That still doesn't change anything," she replied matter-of-factly. "That doesn't change where I belong. I belong here. I'm his now."
But even as matter-of-fact as she tried to be, she choked a little as she spoke the last sentence.
The very last words she said to him.
I'm his now…
Those words chilled him.
Haunted him.
"I understand."
He kissed her forehead gently before urging her to lie back down. His time was running out. He had to leave.
"Close your eyes," his voice barely rose above a whisper as he spoke, protectively hovering over her.
Watching her.
Keeping her safe for one more precious moment.
For a sacred second in the lapse of a ticking clock.
She obliged willingly.
For even if she was in fact cloaked in some veil of illusion – or deliberate disillusion – she felt at ease.
Safe.
For he was her savior.
The answer to her silent prayers she thought had gone unheard.
Until now.
And she was peaceful once more.
At ease.
At rest.
Her mind was somewhere else; somewhere far, far away.
In this place there was no suffering.
No struggling.
No confusion.
No suffocating veil of illusion.
Or disillusion.
"Tru…"
The voice she feared the most pulled her back as she penetrated through the suffocation and came up for an anxious, much-needed breath of air.
Back in the shrouded embrace of this hollow shell.
A hollow, lifeless embrace.
A rude awakening.
For she feared him more than anything now.
He caused her so much unbearable pain.
The nausea began to resurface as well, crashing down on her in incessant waves of dizziness and throbbing stabs of molten fire.
She opened her eyes.
Jensen hovered above her dangerously, leaning over her; his hot breath licked her face with its fumes of suspicion and warning.
"Tru, who were you talking to?"
A tall, dark haired woman stood impatiently in the doorway; her dark eyes were sharp and bright, almost a contrast to the harsh brightness flooding the room with golden rays of warmth and comfort.
She was dressed like a true professional, donning a black business suit and pointy high heels; her dark hair cascaded slightly down past her chin, barely meeting the swell of her broad shoulders.
Her steady gaze met the piercing gray of the eyes opposite her.
"Come in."
She stepped forward, advancing towards him like a salacious predator.
Carefully fingering the bottle in her hand, she placed it on the polished mahogany desk in front of her. It seemed to stretch out forever, the vast expanse of the desk separating crafty manipulator from seductive investigator.
Richard Davies frowned at the sight of the pill bottle before him.
"Care to explain what this is about?"
Carrie Allen's eyes lit up; her lips creased into a tiny crack of a knowledgeable smile.
"You know, Richard, considering your daughter is a med student, she should know better than to leave her spare key underneath the mat."
The older man's cold eyes probed Carrie's sparkling ones suspiciously.
"I watched her leave before I went in. She was probably going to meet him in that bar a few blocks away. I had seen him there earlier that night."
"How is all of this relevant, Carrie?"
Carrie drew in a deep breath before continuing. "I found this empty bottle next to her night lamp on her bedside table. It's folic acid prescribed for pregnancy. Looks like my suspicions were confirmed all along."
Richard breathed this newfound information in calmly. He folded his hands together neatly before resting them on the desk and leaning towards her.
"Are you tried to imply that my daughter is pregnant?"
"Are you trying to mock my suspicions, Richard?" she retorted hotly.
Richard leaned back; his back firmly pressing into the black leather backing of his office chair.
"No."
"But, the catch is, I don't think this baby has a real father."
Richard leaned forward again, suddenly intrigued by her every word.
"You mean…"
"The baby's father is dead."
Author's Note: Mmm… I love me some cliffhangers! Okay, I'm so over it! Hehe… ;) I have a feeling this fic might be longer than I anticipated only because I want to break things down a bit more into easy, digestible parts and not give away too much at once! I'd also like to continue this in some sort of trilogy (yes, a final multi-chaptered installment) should this story permit me to do so. Which, you know, it should. So after spending 15+ hours studying for quizzes AND a big Bio Psych exam this week, I am exhausted, but am rewarding myself by writing and leaving you all with what I hope is a tantalizing update. Yet another huge thanks to those who have reviewed. I cannot express my gratification enough to you all! It would take up too many pages! And speaking of reviews, please leave me a tasty tidbit so I can get giddy with excitement when I see those review alerts in my mailbox! ;)