Sorry about the delay and sorry this chapter is so short and largely pointless, but I've had the week from hell and now I'm very depressed :-( Ah well...maybe some encouraging reviews might cheer me up. Hint hint. Hope you enjoy.
Jack felt like he had spent the last week just watching.
He watched Tru as she walked around the room tentatively on her wounded limbs, following after her much as a cautious parent does when their child takes their first unaided steps, ready to catch her if she happened to fall. He watched her as she slept to see that her dreams remained peaceful, and should she become restless, caught in the grip of a nightmare, he would gently wake her.
He watched both her and Avery when the latter called over to drop off notes from class and pass on the latest gossip amongst the group. He would endure Avery's teasing about his being 'death' simply because she was the only person who'd ever used the term without the customary malice and distrust attached, and he would watch fascinated as they managed to loose themselves in the mind-numbing clichéd sappiness of chick flicks…if he hadn't made himself scarce in order to avoid the torture.
He would watch, amused when Davis came over, his gaze shooting mistrustfully over to him every few seconds. He would chuckle when his every move made the other man jump out of his skin, hiding behind a façade of innocence if ever Tru threw a glare in his direction for his teasing. He would watch enviously however, at the easy camaraderie between the two, wondering if it would ever be something he could enjoy – a simple, easy to define relationship without secrets and untruths to taint its sincerity.
He watched anxiously as she talked quietly with Harrison, be it over the phone or in person, catching the apprehensive looks her brother threw at him every time. He knew that were he to leave them alone for long enough, Harrison would likely crack under the pressure of Tru's concerned questioning, having picked up on his distance. He knew what would happen were Harrison to let the cat out of the bag, so he made sure to be a constant presence when brother and sister got together.
He watched the caller ID display on his cell dispassionately, refusing to answer whenever Richard tried to call. He hadn't spoken to his boss since their confrontation in his office, nor did he have any great desire to.
And now, he watched a bartender place a fresh bottle of beer in front of him as he sat in the crowded bar he had once frequented with Carrie, the bar stool she would have occupied sitting empty beside him, mocking him. It reminded him of who he was and what he had done, of how he had allowed fate to take the closest thing he had to a friend without batting an eye. He had made deals with the devil and kept his secrets, never stopping to think that doing so would come back to haunt him. It had simply never occurred to him that it might matter one day.
Harrison wouldn't hold out much longer, not now that Tru was on the mend, and the nice little fantasy he had been building for himself where the two of them could exist within each other's worlds was slowly imploding…yet he couldn't force himself to walk away now and save himself from the later pain. Why throw away what precious few days he might yet be able to have with her? Nor could he bring himself to tell her the truth - he was still convinced that it was in her best interests not to know right now, if ever.
So, he had made his first sane decision in days and opted to drown his sorrows…or at least temporarily submerge them. Being as able as he was at holding his drink, he had no fear of becoming truly incapacitated, and he appreciated that it might not be the most advisable course of action. But he could pretend.
When he returned to Tru's apartment, a place he saw more than his own these days, he would watch again. He would watch as she slowly regained her strength and sense of self, and he would watch his own reflection change as he stared into the mirror. He would watch a softness creep into the chips of blue ice and the subtle curve of the lip – the very beginnings of a smile – that would appear whenever he heard the laugher he had feared might be lost forever.
He would watch resignedly as he saw himself becoming inextricably tied up in her life, her thoughts, and her smile. He knew what was happening, and he knew it was going to hurt like hell…but he couldn't bring himself to look away.
He had watched as his world took the first all-important steps towards becoming whole…and he would continue to watch as it crumbled around him.
Tru seemed to have spent the last week just listening.
She listened to Jack as he occasionally, and likely unwittingly let slip little details like his favourite colour or the way he liked his eggs – sunny side up, just like her – tiny pieces which made up the whole mysterious puzzle that was him, that she would store up to try and fit into some coherent pattern when he wasn't so close. When she could think. Neither had it escaped her notice that his voice held less of the cynical edge that it had carried for as long as she had known him, that his words were less guarded and nowhere near as obnoxious as had been his wont before now.
She listened to the teasing which passed between he and Avery with a feeling akin to both jealousy and admiration. She heard the lack of suspicion in their interactions and wondered what it would be like had her relationship with Jack ever been that easy going. From the start their conversations were tainted by her certainty that something was different about him. More worryingly however, she found herself imagining that there might be the makings of more between the pair than a bantering casual acquaintance…more of a mutual attraction. It was baffling to think that the idea bothered her.
She listened to Davis' gentle prodding that perhaps she should consider making an appointment to see a counsellor, that as well as she seemed to be coping without one; she could only benefit from speaking with a professional. She would give him a plastic smile and promise to think about it, but she knew that it wasn't within the realm of possibility. How could she explain the situation to someone outside her circle of confidence without sounding like a total crackpot?
She listened as Harrison tried to laugh, to act as if everything was normal and failed miserably. She couldn't have said what it was, but something in his manner, in the words he didn't say told her that all was not well. He would start to say something, then he would glance away and change the subject, and no amount of prompting from her could get him to elaborate. She had asked Jack his opinion on her brother's odd behaviour, but he claimed to have seen nothing out of the ordinary. Avery had said the same, though she had suggested that Harrison was perhaps unsure of how to act or was simply feeling guilty that he had not been able to protect her. Tru had chuckled at her declaration that she would be having 'strong words with that boy' next time she saw him.
Avery could reassure her all she wanted though, and Jack could claim not to see…but Tru knew. She knew Harrison. She knew he had a secret. And she was sure that if she listened long and hard enough, she would find it.
And now, as she leaned against the wall of the shower, allowing the spray to warm her skin while she struggled to make sense of everything, she listened as Jack returned from wherever he had been, letting himself into her apartment as if it were his own and calling her name. She guessed that he heard the running of the water, because before very long there was a hesitant knock at the door. She didn't bother to call out a reply, knowing that he would eventually come in if she remained quiet.
She didn't want to talk. She wanted to listen.
A whole minute passed in silence, though she was sure she could hear him thinking, wondering what was wrong and why she stayed quiet. His second knock was even more uncertain that the first and she heard the worry in his voice when he called her name, the catch of his breath when she remained mute. When he did inevitably enter, his image was hazy through the clouded glass of the screen door and the sound of his steps muted by the running of the water.
He only opened the screen enough to peer through the crack, to assure himself that she wasn't a quivering wreck huddled in on herself as he had found her more than once, and she heard the sigh of relief he let out upon seeing she appeared fine – merely too deep in thought to be concerned with his anxiety. This time his jeans would not be ruined.
"You about done in there?" he asked, his tone light and joking. "You're starting to look like a prune."
When she smiled, so did he.
As she reached up to turn off the water, her grabbed a towel from the rack – one of the large fluffy white ones – and gently wrapped it around her as she stepped out into the steam filled room. She tired to make out whatever he was muttering to himself as he tenderly dried the moisture away, but it was spoken under his breath too quietly for her to discern.
"A girl could get used to this." She whispered, hardly realising she had spoken out loud until he replied, just as unthinkingly.
"Maybe one day we'll try it under different circumstances."
The awkward pause that followed remained unbroken for the longest time, but Tru was certain Jack's voice was somewhat higher than usual when he announced he was going to make coffee before practically running from the room. She didn't quite know what had just happened, but maybe Harrison wasn't the only one not telling her something.
Perhaps there was something Jack wanted to say as well.
Amazingly…she was pleased.
TBC...