A/N: Happy spring, everyone. It fell on a weekend here in mock-Scandinavia, so we had a picnic. (Ba-dum-CHING!) Regional jokes aside, thanks again for your kind reviews. I hope you like this next chapter just as much. Ps - I have to confess that I stole a line in this installment from the movie 'Stigmata'. Please don't think less of me. It was just too fitting to resist.
Saturday 4:14 pm
'These stairs might as well be the Matter Horne,' Davis mused as he gasped his way up the last flight in Kiff's building. Having received Harrison's call some twenty minutes earlier, he'd run the entire distance from the morgue, not even bothering to take off his lab coat or change his shoes. It was a good thing he didn't have a car; He probably would've caused several accidents.
When finally he lurched to the door of number 503, he barely touched his fist to the door before it was open.
"Where the hell have you been, man?" Harrison demanded from the door frame. "We've been dying over here! People are getting arrested and banged around and naked... although I admit that last one is pretty much my fault. But how was I supposed to know the towel was going to -"
"For God's sakes, let the guy in!" Kiff reached around Harrison, grabbed Davis by the arm and pulled him inside. "Tru's in the bedroom. I've been trying to warm her up with - Oy Gevalt! Are you okay?"
Davis was hunched over, his hands on his knees and his shoulders heaving as droplets of sweat fell from his forehead to the floor. He looked for all the world like he was about to either faint or throw up.
"Just need... to catch my... breath..."
"Breathe later! Now get in here and be a doctor."
Harrison grabbed Davis and hauled him into the bedroom. There, all thoughts of jogging more regularly fled Davis's mind. Tru was lying in Kiff's bed, looking only slightly more animated than one of the corpses at work and only slightly less white than the incessant snow. A gauze pad was taped over the cut above her eye. Davis knelt beside the bed and gingerly put a hand to Tru's sternum. There was a fine tremor of shivering going on, and the skin felt strangely cool, even with all the blankets and hot water bottles she'd been packed in.
"How long has she been like this?"
"I don't know," said Kiff. "At least an hour. Last auxiliary temp was 93."
"Have you tried warm IV fluids?"
"I haven't got any."
"Oh, right. How about a peritoneal lavage?"
"I don't know how to do that!" said Kiff.
"Yo! I hate to interrupt this medical jam session, but hadn't we better think about getting out of here before Detective Dickhead comes back?"
As much as he hated agreeing with Harrison as a rule, Davis knew he was right.
"Well, we can't take her to the morgue. That's the first place they'll look."
"And that would be creepy," said Harrison.
"And we certainly can't take her to the hospital. That's where they picked her up in the first place," said Kiff.
Harrison cleared his throat. "You know, I think I might actually know a place."
"Harrison, we are NOT taking her to your bookie's," said Davis.
Harrison gasped and put a hand to his heart. "Davis! Are you suggesting that I would put my own sister in...? Well, okay. But not this time! No, I was thinking of a place a little less frequented by cops and a little more... wholesome."
Saturday 5:00 pm
The security guard at the First Street Bank's front desk stared at the clock above the glass doors. In true bank fashion, the last teller was escaping at five on the dot. All he had to do now was lock up and he'd make it home in time for That 70's Show.
The teller, whose arms were full of accounting files, was struggling to open the door. Exasperated by the delay, the guard swung his feet down from the desk and dragged himself over to the door. But before he could pull it open...
"Here, let me help you with that."
The teller smiled a thank-you at the handsome young man who had pulled the door open from the outside and then flattened himself against it as she slipped outside. Jack let the door close behind him and resettled the duffel on his shoulder, frowning at the guard.
"Wow. Nice piece of tail like that and you don't even open the door for her? Ever think that maybe you're the reason they say chivalry is dead?"
Incensed, the guard planted himself between Jack and the lobby.
"The bank is closed, SIR. You'll have to leave."
"That's more like it! Protect your territory. Unfortunately..."
The guard didn't even see Jack's fist lash out before he was cold-cocked on the floor. Jack stood over him, shaking out his throbbing hand.
"... there's a reason chivalry died out."
Saturday 5:23 pm
Kiff thought it was ironic: All through her career, she'd been faced with doubt as to her ability to perform - A sentiment based solely on her gender and size. Now she was with not one, but two able-bodied men, and which one of them was carrying the unconscious full-grown human being? Then again, Davis had looked like the journey to her apartment alone nearly killed him. And Harrison... Well, it didn't look like the bulk of his exercise came from weight-lifting.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Davis said as they ascended the alley-side fire escape. "It looks like the kind of building people stage cock fights in."
"Relax, D. Tru says it's because they don't like to advertise. Although personally I wouldn't mind unleashing the Fab' Five on this place, I gotta say."
They reached the fire escape landing and Harrison peered through the frosty window.
"Hello?" he yelled, knocking on the pane. "Anybody home? Gomen nasai? Konichiwa? Wasabi?"
Presently, the window opened and Haioshi's bald head appeared in the frame. His gray eyebrows went up at the sight on his fire escape: A husky man in a lab coat, a skinny man who bore a striking resemblance to a ferret, a nervous young woman in an EMT uniform, and a very familiar girl who was limp across the EMT's shoulders. Throw in a priest and a rabbi and you could have a pretty good joke.
"Hi," said Harrison. "Hoshi, right? Er... Hashy? Hi-yoshi?"
"Please," Davis said, shouldering past Harrison and coming eye-to-eye with Haioshi, "excuse my friend; He's an idiot. My name is Davis, this is Harrison and Kathleen, and I believe you know Tru. As you can probably see, we're in a bit of a bind here to put it mildly. We certainly understand if you don't want to let us in, but I'm sure that when Tru survives this, she'll remember the huge part you played and spend the rest of her life being the model student."
Kiff couldn't help being impressed. Davis had always struck her as shy and a little squirrelly. But dangle Tru's welfare in front of him, and he was as focused as a bullet. Incredibly, Haioshi didn't look all that surprised to see them. He just looked from one of his visitors to the next until his eyes fell on Tru and stayed there.
"So. You have found your way here today after all, Tru San."
Haioshi held his arms out and nodded to Kiff. Kiff carefully knelt before the window and let him pull Tru off her shoulders and into the studio. Davis followed, leaving Kiff and Harrison on the landing.
"After you, my lady," said Harrison.
Kiff hesitated. All she had to do was say no. All she had to do was descend the fire escape and go home. All she had to do was walk away, and the nightmares would end.
So why couldn't she?
"I'm not your lady. I'm not even your associate. And I'm not going in first just so you can stare at my ass for a few seconds."
Meanwhile, Davis kicked off his shoes and hurried through the empty studio after Haioshi. Haioshi walked smoothly to his office, as though the woman in his arms weighed no more than a kitten. At the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder at Davis.
"Can I take it you'd be willing to help me?"
Davis blinked.
"Me? Help you? Help you do what?"
"Help me help her, of course. We should hurry, I think."
Davis hesitated. He hadn't anticipated Haioshi wanting to take over, nor finding himself in the position of having to trust a stranger with Tru's welfare. Nevertheless, it wasn't as if he could afford not to have an open mind, especially since meeting Tru.
"My friend," said Haioshi. "Please. Do not deny an old man this honor."
Not sure what that meant but hard pressed for options, Davis nodded reluctantly.
"Good. Come in, then. You can start by lighting the incense."
Saturday 5:00pm
"What do you mean you won't give me a warrant?" Patterson barked into his desk phone. "You put me on hold for twenty damn minutes just to jerk me around..? Probable cause? Fuck that! I KNOW this little kike is in on... No, I will not take it easy on the racial slurs! She's a lying, sneaking little yid! A heebie! A hook-nose! A red-sea... Hello?"
As everyone in the station house pretended not to notice, Patterson slammed the receiver into its cradle. Fucking Davies. Fucking Frink! He should've known she wasn't good people. What kind of medic turns tail on her own captain? Fielding had trusted her, and look where he was now. Patterson was going to get her. He was going to get them both if he had to stand on the roof of the station with an AK-47 and demand a warrant for Frink's apartment.
The phone went off and he snatched it before the first ring was over.
"WHAT?"
"Hello, Detective Patterson. This is Jack Harper. Remember me?"
Patterson's heart jumped into his throat and stuck there.
"Y-yes, the public defender. I'm afraid I was just on my way out for the day, so -"
"On your way out for the day? Doesn't seem like something a man in charge of a city-wide woman-hunt should be doing."
Patterson began to sweat.
"I don't...
"Now, before you embarrass yourself with a stuttering lie, let me tell you what I already know: I know that you tried to have Ms. Davies killed for her part in Officer Fielding's murder. I know that your not-so-reliable underlings managed to both lose her and almost get themselves killed in the process. I know that it's been all afternoon and you still haven't been able to find her. I know that Kathleen Frink is in on it and I know that one day, possibly very soon, God will punish you for this failure. At least I would if I were He. Now let me tell you a few things that you need to know. And pay very close attention, because if you don't help me spread the word to the press, I won't hesitate to call them myself and tell them a few things about the way you do business. First of all, you really need to buy yourself an iron. This frumpy thing you've got going on is probably what's keeping you lonely..."
Saturday 5:40 pm
Davis found Kiff hiding out on the fire escape in the waning daylight, staring out at the snow-covered alley. Just looking at her made him shiver: Her boots were caked in ice and her eyebrows and shoulders were frosted.
"Um... Is this really preferable to being inside with us?" he asked from the window.
"I just wanted some air."
"For two hours?"
"I'm from Minnesota. This is shorts weather." Kiff looked Davis over. "You're shivering."
"I'm not from Minnesota. But I think some air would be nice."
Kiff scooted over to make room for him on the edge of the landing. He climbed out the window and sat next to her.
"How's our girl doing?" she asked.
"Still out." Davis paused. "Haioshi did acupuncture on her. And this weird meditation thing that... Well, it wasn't what I would've done. But she doesn't seem any worse."
"But not better either, right?"
"Actually, she seems a little... Well, let's just say that it pays to have an open mind. Haioshi said something about her soul being sick. Anyway, give it a little time. She needs to rest."
"She needs a head C.T."
"Right," sighed Davis. "Why is it that every time she needs a hospital, I'm not allowed to take her to one?"
"Funny how it's never easy."
Davis looked at her. "You know what would be easy? If I could just grab everyone in the world by the lips and tell them 'Don't you EVER hurt that girl.' That would definitely be handy."
"But of course, you can't," Kiff said, half to herself.
They sat quietly for a while, watching the last of the snow fall on twilit city. Then, Kiff spoke in a dark voice that barely sounded like hers.
"I can't do this again."
"What? Listen, nobody knows better than I do how nerve-wracking it can be to be involved in this whole whatever-it-is with Tru. But how do you think she feels about -"
"It's not that." Kiff swallowed. "Davis, ever since... Well, her, I've had this horrible feeling. Like I'm living on borrowed time and it's a debt I'll have to repay sooner or later."
Davis blinked. "Oh."
"I was doing okay, you know? Work was going better than ever. I had friends. Nobody was trying to kill me. Then she walked into the station today and I knew it wasn't going to last. I wasn't going to last."
"Don't talk like that. The people Tru helps almost never die a second time. You're just weirded-out because you're the only one who ever figured it out."
Kiff nodded with the sort of purse-lipped smile that people wear at funerals. "Yeah, that's probably it. I'm sure that's it."
"Good evening."
The pair both turned to look back at the window, where Haioshi's bust was gracing the frame.
"Oh, sir," said Davis. "I mean, Sensei. I mean, what do I call you again?"
Kiff suppressed a sigh. Here was a man who spent far too little time practicing his small talk. Haioshi, however, just smiled at him.
"Forgive the interruption. Tru San is resting. I could use some time myself, and I think she should not be alone."
"Oh! You'd like someone to sit with her. I'll be right -"
"Actually, I thought perhaps the young lady would care."
Kiff frowned. "Me?"
"You. I believe it would do you both some good. Now if you'll excuse me, Harrison has just discovered my katana. I must make sure he doesn't hurt himself."
Saturday 6:58 pm
Tru trudged barefoot across the scorching desert sand in an arbitrary direction. Every way she looked, there was another dune and another. No trees. No breeze. The sun beat down on her like a tidal wave, burning her, killing her.
Help me... Somebody find me...
She made it to the peak of the dune and collapsed. The searing wind picked up and the sand blew over her.
TRU.
With a great effort, she lifted her head out of the sand and looked down into the piedmont. There was a glistening oasis there, vast and clear as the sky. At its heart, the waters rose in the shimmering shape of a woman.
TRU, STOP.
Tru's parched mouth opened and she tried to call out to the watery apparition, but her voice was swallowed by the rising sandstorm. She could feel it burying her - Her legs, her back, her shoulders. She couldn't move. Desperate, she reached out a hand to the water form. The sparkling face just held its quiet smile.
"Mom, help me!"
STOP, TRU.
The sand covered Tru's head, her arm, her hand...
Kiff was startled out of her staring contest with Haioshi's office wall by a loud gasp from the figure on the mat. Tru was awake, her eyes darting wildly around in her sweating face. Kiff scooted closer and set a hand on Tru's quaking shoulder.
"Tru?"
"Mom!"
"No, Davies. It's me. It's Kiff."
Tru's eyes finally settled on her and stayed there.
"You're okay," Kiff said in her best calm EMT voice. "You took a little header, that's all."
"But my mom -"
"Tru, your mother died. You told me that."
Tru's body shook harder and Kiff realized she was being wracked by sobs.
"Hey!" Kiff brushed new tears away from Tru's face. "It was just a bad dream. You're okay."
"No, it's not okay! She left me! She just left me to do this on my own! How could she leave me here alone with this? How could she leave me here alone?"
Kiff sighed. She was trained to solve many different problems, but here was one she couldn't even explain...
Who was she kidding?
She bent down and gathered Tru into her arms. Tru clutched at Kiff's sleeves, crying into the cloth.
"I feel like my heart is breaking. What's happening to me?"
"I don't know, Davies. I don't know."
TBC...
Not a cliffhanger per se I know, but this one was running a little long, even for me. I hope you'll review it anyway.