STOP
Another Tru Calling story by me, Turtle
Disclaimer: Try as I might, I still don't own any of the regular characters (Tru, Davis, Harrison, the autopsy table, etc.). I only own the incredulous cameos.
AN: So. We meet again, Catwoman. I wasn't going to do a sequel to "Funny How", but since the series didn't return in November as TV Guide implied it would, I've had to tide myself over with my imagination instead. I hope y'all find it a worthwhile distraction. BTW – Does anyone know if Davis has a last name? Or is he like Roseanne?
Saturday 9:16 am
The snow fell thick and silent in the forest glade, settling beautifully on the bare branches of the trees. There was no breeze, no animals, no sound except for Tru's running feet and panting breath. Her lungs burned on the frigid air.
She had to find the way out. Find the way home. But she couldn't; every way she turned, it looked the same. There was no beginning and no end, only the snow and the maze of trees. So cold. So alone. So lost.
Help me! Somebody find me!
Suddenly, just when she was about to fall to her knees in the snow and cry, Tru skidded to a halt. There, in the distance and coming closer... It was a woman. Specifically, it was the most elegant woman Tru had ever seen. She wore a fur-lined set of long, white satin robes. Silver ribbons were braided into her wavy brown hair. She walked with the posture of a queen, so lightly that her feet left no tracks on the forest floor.
She fixed Tru with the gentlest of smiles, warm enough to melt the winter snow.
"Mom..." Tru whispered.
Tru's mother extended a hand toward her.
"Stop, Tru."
Tru ran to meet her mother. Her mother continued to glide forward, but the snow fell thicker. It fell as thick as a stage curtain, swallowing the image of the graceful queen. Tru ran faster, reaching.
"No! Mom, you can't leave me here alone! Not again!"
"Tru... stop."
Tru ran. She reached. She lunged...
... And woke up.
Tru was bolt upright in bed, her breath coming as fast as her heartbeat and her arm still reaching out as the dream faded from her mind. She quickly withdrew the shaking hand and ran it through her long brown hair.
"Good to see you again, Mom," she said aloud. "Next time, bring a jell-o mold."
She rolled out of bed and headed quickly for her bathroom sink, where she splashed her face with frigid water and let the drops hang on her chin and nose. The dreams were always similar. Sometimes Tru was locked in a castle tower and her mother was a knight errant who never quite got around to rescuing her. Sometimes she was a gladiator surrounded by lions and her mother was the emperor who ALMOST intervened. Once, she'd even been a deputy in an old West desert who'd chased a bunch of banditos into a collapsing mine shaft and her mother was the lamp-toting sheriff who could've led her to the safety outside, but didn't. She just didn't.
And every time, every single time, Tru's mother said the same exact thing and nothing more.
It wasn't until she finally got her breathing under control that she realized her leg was hurting. That could only mean one thing. She crossed to the window, pulled back the curtain, and sure enough, it was snowing. This was getting to be almost as strange as her ability to relive days in order to save the recently dead. Her bullet wound had actually healed remarkably well, according to her physical therapist. All that remained of it was a neat scar in the back of her thigh and an ability to predict the weather. The only time it cramped up now was when something fell out of the sky.
It seemed to be something else that was having trouble healing. It was when she'd been shot and nearly killed three months earlier that the dreams had started to come harder than ever. In any case, this was by no means the first time it had happened and Tru was getting rather frustrated with her inability to recognize another stupid dream when she had one.
The ringing phone brought her gratefully back to the present. She hurried to the kitchen to answer.
"Hello?"
"Greetings from Emperor Harrison of the Underworld. My minions shall soon march across the lands, bringing darkness and famine to all in their path, so I'm on the line today reminding everyone to keep current on their insurance payments."
"What is it this time, Harrison? Get evicted again? Car repossessed? Sleep with another man's wife which led to you getting your teeth broken and now you need money for the dentist?"
An exaggerated gasp came over the line.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten today is the first day of kick-ass class! You promised you'd take me along and if you don't pick me up soon, we're going to be late."
"No, I haven't forgotten. Have YOU forgotten that it's not until two?"
"No it's not. It's at ten."
"Two."
"Ten."
"Two. Your job interview at the Saturn dealership is at ten."
"...Oh. Oh, yeah! That's right."
"Harrison," Tru said suspiciously. "You're not blowing this off again, are you?"
"No way! The next time you see me, I'll be among the ranks of America's respectable work force. Just wait."
"Good. I'll see you this afternoon, then."
"All right... Say, Tru?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure you want to do this? With your leg and all?"
Tru sighed. She'd almost thought they might make it through the conversation without him turning into the dithering little brother he'd been for the past three months, much like Lindsay. And Dad. And worst of all, Davis.
"For the sixth time Harrison, yes."
"Okay, okay, just checking. And for the record, it was only the third time."
"Harrison, do you really want to get into this with me?"
Another pause.
"No."
Damn straight.
Saturday 2:16 pm
Harrison looked down his training partner in dismay. Tru had started classes here at the Shotokan studio last month, sparking his unease at the prospect of his 110-pound sister being able to beat him up. The feeling built until he finally asked her to bring him along to the beginner's class. She'd agreed, but had pointedly failed to mention that he would be the only adult.
Standing in the middle of the hardwood floor in the white pajamas and faced with a six-year-old while the intermediate adults (many of them very decent-looking young women) practiced nearby, he'd never felt more ridiculous in his life.
"Well?" the kid demanded. "I can't practice blocking if you don't punch at me."
"Um... Actually, I'm kind of punched out. How about if you punch me instead?"
"But I already –"
"Okay, you're right, you're right." Harrison leaned down to eye level with the kid and whispered. "How about... Ooh! How about we break some of those boards over there? You wanna break some boards?"
"But those are for the advanced class."
"Nobody's got to know, do they?"
"But Sensei said –"
"No offense kid, but Sensei's a blind old fart who... He's behind me, isn't he?"
The kid nodded. Harrison slowly straightened up and turned to Haioshi Sensei, who stood at his shoulder with a tiny amused smile. Haioshi was a trifle more than middle-aged and half a head shorter than Harrison, but his frayed black belt looked like it had survived every war ever fought and there was something in his twinkling eyes that made Harrison swallow hard.
"Is there a problem, Harrison San?"
"No! No, no, no... Well, yes."
"Shall I explain the exercise again?"
"It's not that. It's just... Could I have a different partner?"
Haioshi quirked an eyebrow. "Has Henry San damaged you?"
"Oh no, he's great. It's just that..." Harrison turned on his charming smile and indicated the adult class with a cock of his head. "Girls are watching, you know?"
Haioshi's smile widened a bit. "I see. Henry, go and join in with Pete. Sally, would you be so kind?"
Haioshi took his leave, to be replaced with Sally: A striking brown-belted blonde.
"Well," Harrison said, looking her up and down with a hyena-like grin. "Kung-POW."
Sally bowed and took a fighting stance.
"Go on and hit me," she said.
"I can't hit you. You're a girl."
Sally's shock at this statement lasted the barest moment before she released a loud battle cry, dropped to a lunge, and threw a punch that was like a striking cobra. Harrison heard the impact to his nether-regions before he felt it. But when he felt it, good God, did he feel it.
Harrison dropped to lie moaning at Sally's feet.
"That one's a downward block, silly," Sally said.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, a unified cry rang out as the twenty-ot students struck out their fists. Over and over they repeated the technique, their shoulders starting to burn as the instructor walked slowly up and down their ranks, stopping here and there to correct a stance or guard. Sweat trickled down Tru's face and neck. Her legs shook with the strain of holding the low stance. She grit her teeth, yelled louder, punched the air harder, and it felt wonderful.
She loved it here. There was no nagging, no worrying, no shop-talk. There was only the honesty of the ancient techniques, and the surety that no one would hurt her charges while she was around.
"Good," Haioshi said. "Now, with advances."
Haioshi counted off the first repetition. With the rest of the class, Tru stepped left and punched right. Strong, grounded, and powerful, just as it should be. Haioshi counted again. Tru stepped right, and the leg collapsed.
White-faced with the violent throb in her thigh, Tru stayed down, sucking hissing breaths through her teeth until her anger overcame her pain. She drove herself to her feet and with a primal roar, threw the technique again, harder than ever.
SMACK!!!
Tru blinked. Her arm only halfway extended, her fist was engulfed in Haioshi's intercepting palm.
"Sensei..."
As the rest of the class went on pretending not to notice, Haioshi stood before her as calm as ever, the brightness of his eyes dulled by muted concern.
"Tru San, do not be angry with your body for telling you what it needs."
Tru had no idea how to respond. Haioshi spared her having to.
"Come. I have just the thing."
Some minutes later, Tru was seated on a cushion in Haioshi's office, sipping a steaming mug of ginseng tea. Haioshi's office was spare like the rest of the studio. There was only a traditional tea service, the low table and cushions, a cabinet, and an altar. Haioshi returned from the cabinet with a small tin of tiger balm and knelt before Tru.
"May I?"
Tru nodded. Haioshi pushed up her gi pant leg and began to deftly work the ointment into Tru's leg. The fumes stung her eyes a little, but she could feel the tension slipping away under Haioshi's hands.
"I'm sorry, Sensei."
"Don't feel bad. You were doing well."
"But you told us on the first day of the beginner's class to let you know if we had a health concern."
Haioshi only continued to smile and apply the tiger balm. Tru tried to relax. From the first time she'd seen Haioshi Sensei, she'd liked him. There was a quiet grace to the little Japanese man that her life was sorely lacking. But they had never really talked. Now that they were alone together, she was feeling a little self-conscious.
"I was shot, Sensei."
"Drink your tea."
Tru sipped obediently. "Three months ago, five men tried to kill me because I saved a woman's life. The police caught all of them, except one. He's the reason I came to you."
"Now flex."
Tru tightened her hamstring. "The thing is, I'm not really afraid. I'm just frustrated. I know that I can take care of myself, but no one else seems to think so. I can hardly go out to get the mail without my friends child-proofing the front walk."
Haioshi's hands paused and he regarded her levelly.
"Is that why you didn't tell me?"
Tru considered that. "I think it's why I'm telling you now."
Haioshi's tiny smile returned and he resumed his ministrations.
"No one sees better than I that you can take care of yourself. Tru San, from the moment you stepped through my door, I knew that you would be an interesting student."
"Interesting?"
"Interesting. As I said, I truly believe you can take care of yourself. However, I fear that perhaps you are so concerned with the problems of others that you forget to look after yourself."
"I have plenty of people doing that for me."
"Why do you think that is?"
Again, Tru considered. Then, she sighed in defeat. "Because I'm so concerned with the problems of others that I forget to look after myself."
Haioshi's eyes twinkled as though they'd just shared an inside joke. "I know that we do not know each other well, but if you will permit me, here's what I think: You spend much time chasing things – deadlines, people, answers – and yet you have forgotten to look for what you seek in the most important place."
"But I –"
Haioshi held up a hand to cut her off.
"Close your eyes. Straighten your back. Breathe."
Tru obeyed, as she did in the meditations that began and ended every class. In and out. Rhythmic and uncomplicated. She tried to think of nothing but her breath. A thousand different thoughts tried to invade. She pushed them away. All that remained was the space she cleared in her mind...
Tru...
No. It was just a memory. One of her dreams. Push it away.
TRU...
It's not real. It was a stupid dream. Push it away. Concentrate. Breathe.
TRU, STOP.
"I can't stop, Mom!"
Tru's eyes snapped open, having startled herself out of her meditation by uttering that last metaphysical exchange out loud. Haioshi was watching her from his own cushion with one eyebrow quirked.
"Something chases you," he said.
"Yes," Tru said shakily. "Something."
Tru was about to ask if this sort of thing typically happened in meditation when she realized that the pager she had clipped to her sports bra for work emergencies was vibrating.
"TRU – HOPE YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING THE NEWS. OTHERWISE, YOU'RE IN FOR A RUDE SURPRISE AT THE FIRST STREET BANK," said the text message.
Tru sighed. "I have to go, Sensei. Thanks for the tea."
"Ah. Until next week, then."
They stood and bowed to each other. Tru turned to go.
"Tru San."
"Yes, Sensei?"
"Don't forget where to look."
Saturday 3:00 pm
Jack Harper hated winter, especially when he had business outdoors. Safely hidden behind the corner of the old brick building that housed the Shotokan dojo, he stomped his feet impatiently, trying to keep feeling in them despite their presence in the deepening snow. Months of preparation had led up to this and he still hadn't been able to control the weather.
Finally, he heard the front door bang shut and peered around the corner to see Tru Davies emerge, walk briskly to her car, and drive off toward First Street. So she was driving a silver Volkswagen now. She could do better, Jack mused: She'd look so much better in a black Caddy.
Pity.
He marked the time, and began to feel a bit warmer.
TBC...
And by the way: Are there any things in particular that y'all would like to see included between now and the mildly thrilling conclusion? I'll try my best to include them.