A/N: Hopefully that wasn't too long a break…but anyway, I've brought with me another chapter of Blood of a Stranger. I'm really proud of this chapter; I think it shows brilliantly the denial Tru has created over Jensen, and at the end of this chapter, that will all be shattered. Anyway, enjoy it, as I know you will, and thanks for reviewing my last chapter :)
Blood of a Stranger
Chapter Seven: Disillusion
When will the price for the blood be paid?
For none of that; none of the dark desires and reckless words will be justice enough in the end.
No, this end will not justify the means.
It comes down to one decision in the end. And that is a sacrifice, a beckoning forth of a mistake.
Only one thing can change, only one thing can be fixed.
Then a balance will be drawn, equal on both sides.
Though when will the decision be made? When will the price be paid? When will the end justify the means? When will it all be fixed?
When will be there a balance?
A rustle disturbed the gracious silence that pooled over the room. It was deafening, piercing in the early hours of the morning. There was a stream of light that shone from the exposed window, showering rays of warmth over the sleeping figure. Thick fog glassed the window, stray crystals of ice melting slowly onto the outside pane. There was a distant outline of a fig tree bordering the horizon, marking a brilliant white blanket over the pink sky with its branches of snow.
She put off opening her eyes. She hadn't wanted the dreams to end. They were comforting, fragmented and of carefree times when there was no pressure to compete for the lives of a few people. She didn't have an opposite in her dreams; they often worked together, not as voyeurs for fate, but back at the morgue. There, they worked side by side, withstanding the gruesome details and painful grieving, and simply falling back on one another, relying on each others' strengths.
She knew that could never happen. It was wrong even to be entertaining ideas of it. In reality, they were opposites, enemies. Sworn to succeed at all costs. Never to give in to temptation and leave behind everything they so desperately wanted out of. They knew they couldn't do that.
It was strange how little regret Tru felt at opening her eyes, after dreading wakening. Her vision was blurry, as it should be, but when her eyes began to focus, she found herself staring into his blue eyes, perfect and deep in the morning's rays of sunlight.
He stared down at her, sitting on the edge of the small bed. He wore a curious look, his blonde hair mattered and unruly. She didn't care; she liked it that way.
Jensen spoke quietly, so as not to disturb the perfect silence they had found. "You talk in your sleep."
Tru's lips thinned into a smirk. "Did you write down their names?"
He laughed, small and hollow as he leaned down over her. "Funny, I only heard mine spoken."
Tru flattened herself against the soft, white blankets, her expression feigning a frown. "Then I guess you're just lucky." She paused, realising for the first time Jensen was dressed. "Where are you going?"
He smiled at her pensive question, shifting forward on the bed. "I have a job interview in an hour. Thought I'd make a good impression by showing up early."
She quirked her eyebrow, smiling at him as he bent down and kissed her forehead softly. "Where's the interview?"
Jensen slid off the bed, clutching his boots skilfully with one hand. He grinned at her. "The morgue."
Tru stared, almost shocked. He hadn't told her? Was he trying to surprise her?
Jensen noted her silence and assumed the worst. "What's wrong?"
She looked at him in his black coat, tall and confident with his concerned smile. "Nothing. You just…you didn't tell me."
He leaned down over her again and brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I wanted to surprise you. But tell me if you think I'm crowding you or something, I don't want that."
She lightly fingered the bed sheets, the soft cotton drifting through her like smoke. "No, I don't think that. What happened to the clinic? You're still volunteering there, right?"
"Yeah, just not as much," he said fleetingly, glancing at his watch impulsively. "I wanted a change of pace, you know?"
Tru nodded carefully, concern spilling through her, though she had no idea why. She had a fleeting feeling that her concern arose from the discomforting comments Jensen had made recently about death. And now he was sideling closer to it. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing, for Jensen and for Tru herself. She didn't know.
Tru felt something gnaw at her mind and she thought suddenly of something. "You're still coming tonight, right? My dad's work function, celebrating ten years of his firm…"
Jensen glanced at her with a small smile. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Something caught Jack's eye immediately as he sauntered into the diner casually. He walked through the aromatic scent of strong coffee and desperate customers until he reached one of the more secluded booths. She hadn't noticed him yet and he coughed loudly, deliberately, and held out his hand carefully.
"Excuse me?" He looked earnestly at her, smiling warmly. "Mind if I sit down?"
She looked at him, recognition burning in her deep blue eyes. She nodded emphatically, returning his warm smile. "Sure."
Jack slid in opposite her, his eyes straining at the thought of her name. "Avery, right?"
Avery's smile widened graciously as she lifted a finger and nodded. "Jack. I'm good with names."
He laughed, quietly amused. "Yes you are. I don't usually do this but we have someone in common, and I'm just trying to be friendly."
"I don't mind the company, if that's what you're worried about," she said easily, "but I have to warn you, I'm meeting Tru for breakfast in about ten minutes."
"No problem," Jack countered while folding his hands on the table, "I'm not looking to intrude."
She looked at him, a long glance, taking him in. She noted that he hadn't shaved in a while. "So how long have you known Tru? She doesn't really talk about you."
"Nice to know," Jack joked quietly, "but seriously, we've known each other just under a year, now. We're not really close, as such, but I'd say I've seen a few sides of Tru she likes to keep," he paused, sobering his eyes, "hidden."
Avery noticed the way Jack's eyes suddenly darkened. "Yeah, I've noticed she's not really all she seems. She keeps a lot of things quiet. Even from Jensen."
"That's not such a bad thing," Jack whispered distantly.
Managing a shrug, Avery searched her eyes over Jack. "Guess not."
"Hey, Jack."
Jack turned at the quiet voice, smiling up at the figure standing above him. "Tru, Avery and I were just talking about you."
Tru raised an inquisitive brow towards Jack, while she smiled a greeting at Avery. "All good, I hope."
Jack shrugged with a smile. "What else is there?"
Without her smile faltering, Tru whispered forcefully through her teeth, "I think you should leave now."
Pulling himself out of the booth, Jack brushed past her, his lips inches from her ear. "Already gone."
Avery returned Jack's small wave and glanced at Tru. "He's nice. What's your problem with him?"
"Nothing, really," Tru answered her friend's casual accusation, "we're just up and down a lot."
Avery shrugged it off. "Can't see why, he's a great guy. I ordered you a cappuccino; they're running slow today."
"What else is new?" Tru quipped as she gave a final glance towards Jack's retreating figure. She sighed, feeling suddenly defeated. She wondered curiously why Jack always had that affect on her.
The evening was abuzz with movement, idle chatter and the shrill clinking of champagne glasses. Classical music played softly from overhead, ignored but still content as it seeped through into the crowded hall. There was a chandelier; brilliant in its fullness, with crystal diamonds overhanding its middle and sprouting out like a fountain. Hollow laughter echoed, resounding and offering a relaxed mood.
Tru shifted anxiously against the cold wooden surface of the bar. Although the hall radiated a magnificent heat from a few central hearths, she stood shivering. She began to regret the decision to not wear anything over her cobalt cocktail dress, its sides splitting up almost to her thighs. It hung low over her chest, held up only by two thin straps either side of her shoulders. She had left her hair flowing in a dark river of locks, brushed evenly to mask her face. She stood out with her ruby lipstick, waiting alone by the bar.
She had fought off several suggestive comments already, relaying earnestly that she truly was waiting for someone. Harrison was standing proudly beside his father, receiving glowing remarks from colleagues and guests respectively. Tru was honestly happy for him, having come from the slumps of losing late night poker games to winning a job in his father's law firm. Even if he had taken the easy road, Tru had to offer him a winning hand.
Resisting the urge to glance at her phone for any messages, Tru sighed in impatient contempt. She had told him over and over again, where it was and at what time he was to meet her. Did she worry? Of course. But not for him. This had been happening far too regularly for him to be in any trouble. She had tried to ignore it, tried to let it boil and simmer into the next day. But it was still there.
And Jensen wasn't.
Again she felt alarmed; she tried to suppress the deep shiver that ran down her back and pinched at her nerves. She knew something was wrong. Jensen had failed to show. Again. And the clock was running down its minutes, with only an hour left until the hall dispersed and the laughter died down.
Tru glanced at an idle Richard Davies, talking to someone quietly in one of the corners, tall glass of champagne in his rigid hand. He smiled at her from across the room, lighting up his taut features briefly before they dispatched into cold and hard again. Deep under the skin, where the heart lay, Tru knew he loved her. She knew he loved all of them. She knew he still loved her mother, deep and passionate like soul mates do. She knew he loved Jordan, and their children. What he didn't show on the outside, she could feel on the inside, when his heart beat every time he was near. She just knew.
She felt a presence sidle in beside her and she was ready for the onslaught of insults that were tingling on the tip of tongue, until she looked to see who it was. He smiled at her, knowing he had surprised her. He was dressed informally, donning a black leather jacket and what seemed to be a navy shirt underneath. Black jeans completed his attire. She felt disgusted that he should show up to such an occasion dressed as he was, then she stopped suddenly, wondering oddly why he was there to begin with.
The words just rolled off, full of an element of surprise and partially dripping with a spiteful malice, "What are you doing here?"
"Richard invited me," Jack Harper began with a charming tone of voice. "He's a great guy. Don't know why you don't take after him."
"Don't talk about my family like I'm not here," Tru replied coldly. Her hazel eyes were dark, the rims painted with think liner.
Jack sucked in a quick, mocking breath before resting his elbows on the surface of the bar counter. "I can't talk about your family, I can't talk about your boyfriend, I can't talk about Luc…tell me, Tru, what can I talk about?"
She straightened, aware suddenly that her heels made her tower over him. She felt strangely empowered. "What you're doing here."
He nodded once, licking his bottom lip impulsively. "Your father has been helping me with some legal advice. He and I hit it off at your apartment over Christmas Eve. Don't know why you didn't introduce me to him sooner."
"Careful," Tru whispered as she feigned a smile, "he's married."
Jack laughed through his teeth, catching a glimpse at a watchful Richard. "Cute. But he's not my type."
Tru tightened her lips together. "No, your type is the one that doesn't talk back, the one that will follow your every command without protest. The real silent ones. The real easy ones."
Jack looked at her, long and studying. She had no idea. Or if she did, she didn't let it slip. "So, you're still waiting for him. How long has it been now? Three hours? Let me guess, he's stuck in traffic."
Tru felt something stiffen inside of her. She let her heart sink into its dark pit. Jack had brought her strangely back to reality. Jensen was not coming. "You really shouldn't be here. You might cause the guests much distress, if they found out you're death."
Lowering his gaze, Jack breathed out slowly. "Life and death. They're both too simple analogies for what we are. We're so much more than that." He gave her a knowing look before turning to the bar tentatively. "I'll buy you a drink."
"Don't waste your money," she came to his rescue suddenly, "I can get them for free. Two tequila and lemonades."
The barman flashed her a small smile. "Sure thing, Miss Davies. Enjoying your evening?"
"I was," Tru returned the small man's smile before offering Jack a falsely sweet one.
The music resonated hollowly around them. They stood in a comfortable silence, neither of them feeling the need to break it with taunting banter. It was a nice silence, one that inspired lingering looks, hopeful glances, and a sad reckoning that threatened to tempt them into leaving each other's sides. It couldn't last, they knew that, but there was something crawling around them, inching them closer, narrowing the gap that divided them.
Harrison latched a watchful gaze onto the two as they stood side by side, almost enjoying each other's company. Or so it seemed. Harrison was weary, ever since she brought him home to her apartment on Christmas Eve. He hadn't liked that. It was like Jack was crawling into their lives, clutching at the edges and hoping to be part of them. Harrison would let it reach that point. He would kick and scream before it came to that. Jack Harper being a part of Tru's life was one thing, but being a part of the family's life was another. He was becoming too close. And Harrison didn't like it.
He felt a ginger hand on his shoulder and turned around, not surprised to see his father reigning down on him. "Hey, Dad. Finishing up soon?"
Richard let his hand slip from his son's shoulder as he swept his gaze around the room. "Should be. Have to make a few more rounds but that shouldn't take long. I'll wrap it up soon, it's getting late."
It lay unspoken between them for the very reason that it had to. Richard couldn't risk telling his son the truth yet, and thus he bit his tongue, resisting asking his son's stance on Jack's behaviour with Tru. Richard stood with a worried feeling. He didn't want them ending up like he had with his wife. That had been a mess. But that was not why he wanted so much for them to break apart, to go their separate ways until they had to meet again. No, that reason ley unbidden and repressed in the back of his mind.
Harrison sighed anxiously. They were standing close, drinks in their hands and talking quietly. He could see it clearly, the way Jack was slowly charming her. It sickened him that she should be falling for the older man's act. It wasn't right, it was just a ploy. A diversion. Jack didn't really care about Tru, he just wanted her to fall and give in to him. To give up. But Harrison wouldn't let that happen, whatever the cost.
Tru let her eyes fall from her brother's quickly. Even though he was a fair distance away, she could tell what he was thinking. They were of the same blood, of course. It was only fitting that they should know each other in and out. But the way Harrison was telling the story with his eyes, warning her sharply from across the hall. It made her blood curdle and freeze over in her veins.
She turned her attention back to Jack, who stood watching her curiously, amused. She gave him a look. "What?"
He looked away, his eyes smiling and his lips smirking. "Nothing. Just admiring human behaviour at its best."
She placed her foot and turned to stand in front of him, quirking her eyebrow dangerously. "If you think you're actually funny, try looking in a mirror. You'll be horrified at the discovery."
Jack swallowed. He tried not to look at the perfect structure of her shoulders, and how solid they seemed when her arms were crossed. Her skin was flawless, tanned and dappled in the poor light of the chandelier. He stopped himself, continuing with the careless teasing.
"Already have been," his voice sounded parched and he took another sip of his drink, admiring the taste of sweet alcohol on his tongue. "Really should get around to buying new mirrors."
Tru stifled a laugh at his philosophy. It wasn't the person that was unattractive; it was their reflection in the mirror. She was chilled suddenly, the shiver racing up and down her spine once more. Something called in the back of her mind. Something whispered.
Jack noticed her face was faltering. The smile disappeared from her lips. He sobered, calmly moving towards her. "You're worried about him."
"Jack, what's going on?" Tru's voice was barely a whisper, dripping with a desperation that overwhelmed her. "Where is he? He didn't even call…"
Carefully placing the cocktail glass back on the wooden counter, Jack gingerly touched her shoulder, then retracted his hand immediately when she flinched. "I'll help you find him. If you want."
Her eyes met his deep blue ones and suddenly she snapped wide awake. Jack Harper was offering his help on a silver platter. He would help her find Jensen, help to bring him back down to earth and hopefully help him recover. Tru knew that wouldn't happen, though. Deep down, Tru knew the solution to the problem. And it did not lie in helping Jensen live. It lay in him dying.
She shrugged his hand away, shifting back. She knew she had to find him. "No, I'll go."
Jack could only stare after her as she brushed her way through the crowd, sweeping in and out and away. His eyes wavered until they met with a pair of cold, dark blue ones. Richard Davies stared back, a haunting malice driving between the two.
It was cold, too cold for what she was wearing. The navy dress seemed thin and soft like a flowing satin. The breeze caught itself between the material, ravaging it as Tru walked briskly. She was in a state of shock. She was desperate to find him, to know where he was and what he was doing. Rational thought had been flushed away. She was being carried purely by a force greater than what she knew.
The streets were dark and deserted. She was alone as she walked, onwards avoiding the think and heavy-laden snow. The snow had ceased to fall a couple of hours ago and she was thankful for that.
She didn't know where she was walking. She didn't care. As long as she walked she felt as if she was getting somewhere. Even though she had no real idea where to look for him.
There was a dark alley where there was a lack of light from the streets. She felt a powerful pulling feeling. Compelling even.
A gunshot.
Hollow and echoing in the moonless night. It was blunt, with nothing but the echo following it.
She saw an outline of a figure standing in the alley. That was where she walked, further still into a black abyss of darkness.
She inched closer, aware suddenly that the figure was indeed Jensen. She knew what had happened. She knew now where the loud gunshot had come from.
Blood.
So much. A pool, it seemed, streamed out from underneath the head of a body.
Smoke from the gun poured out, wispy and flowing into the cracks of the narrow alleyway. Tru saw large dumpsters and scaffolding. She was suddenly in awe of them. Her mind didn't want to turn back to the body crumpled in a heap on the ground.
Her name was spoken, softly and surprised. He wasn't panicking in any way. He sounded amused that she should wander in and witness his act of sacrifice.
Crimson stains were splattered everywhere. She could see them. She didn't know how.
She felt herself fading, her vision blurring in almost slow motion. She whispered deathly into the crisp night, "Jensen…"
A cold hand grasped her ankle, pulling her down. The hand was covered in blood, staining her skin. A voice echoed, desperate and resonating in her mind, pulling her forward violently.
"Help me."
A/N: Creepy…but it was so much fun to write :)
Peace