Straight Tequila Night

Syn

PG-13

I do not own these characters.

Summary: Tru Davies has become a hard woman.

Notes: Written for maechi for my Holiday Ficathon Project.

 

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Tru Davies has become a hard woman.  Her smiles are infrequent, her laughter non-existent.  There is a hard set to her mouth and her glittering brown eyes hold a spark of anger, instead of vibrant life.

 

She is relentless now, her mind set on one goal.  Saving every single soul she can.

 

Davis watches her as she does standards, her face impassive as she memorizes all she can about the bodies around her.  She obsessively researches them all and leaves nothing to chance.  When the days rewind, she runs until she collapses.

 

Sometimes she saves them.  Sometimes she doesn't and that bastard Jack wins.  When he takes a life from her hands, it's like he's taking Tru's life, draining it straight from her deadening eyes. 

 

It started after Luc's death.  When life took a tragic twist and her heart was left splintered in two.  And Davis watches, always there.  Sometimes he talks to her late at night on the phone, after she's won or lost, depending on the luck of the draw and Jack's interference and he knows she's dying inside.  But she's pushing everyone away, including her brother and sister.  Davis is no exception.  She rarely calls him for help and he feels the loss of her dependence keenly. 

 

He wants to be wanted and needed, but she won't allow it any longer.

 

A day goes by and she doesn't show up for work.  He fears it's a do-over day and that something has happened to her.  He calls her cell phone, but she doesn't answer.  He leaves frantic, worried messages on her voicemail.  She does not return his calls.  He phones Harrison, but he hasn't heard from her either. 

 

Davis punches in Jack's number, fingers trembling.  Jack answers and Davis slams the phone down.  A sick, terrified feeling is roiling in his gut.  He leaves the morgue and drives to her apartment, hoping she'll be there, sick and in bed.  She doesn't answer the door and he thinks about kicking it in, but figures he'd just bounce off of it. 

 

"What are you doing?" she suddenly asks from behind him, voice rough and tired-sounding.  He spins, heart leaping and sees her standing at the top of the stairs.  There are smudges of deep purple beneath her deadened eyes.

 

"You didn't show, I was worried," he says as she stumbles toward him. "Do-over day?"

 

"Something like that," she slurs, one hand on the wall to keep her steady.  As she draws near, the smell of tequila rolls of her.  He can tell she's drunk.

 

"Been drinking?"

 

"What's it to you?" she says, brushing the hand he places on her shoulder to steady her away.

 

"I'm worried," he says forcefully. "How long have you been drinking?"

 

"Today?" she says, squinting at him. "Since noon.  If you mean in the long term, since I killed Luc."

 

"You didn't kill Luc, Tru," Davis says hotly. "Don't think that--"

 

"You heard Jack didn't you?  It's all about balance.  I tipped the scales one way and he tipped it the other and Luc ended up dead!" Tru argues, fumbling for her keys.  Afraid that one of her neighbors will come out and hear them, he takes her keys from her pocket and unlocks the door for her. 

 

He helps her into her apartment, closes the door behind them and sets her down on the couch.  She flops down, an angry tear trailing down her cheek.

 

"Tru, look at me," Davis says gently, taking her hand. She looks up, raw, pain-filled eyes fixed on him. "You didn't kill Luc.  You did what you had to.  You saved a life.  Jack is...he got Luc killed.  You didn't do it.  It was all him."

 

"I made him do it though," she argues.  He shakes his head.

 

"No," he says. "He's sick.  He thinks that life has a balance...well you're the balance.  These people shouldn't die, which is why they ask for your help.  You're righting the wrongs.  Jack creates them."

 

"But Luc didn't ask for help," Tru sobs, squeezing her eyes shut. "He could have asked and he didn't.  What does that mean?"

 

"I don't know," he says softly. "But whatever the reason, it wasn't your fault.  Stop blaming yourself.  It's killing you.  I watch you.  Every time you fail, it's like you're dying.  You're becoming hard inside, Tru.  Your gift isn't supposed to kill you.  It's supposed to make you happy.  You're a hero!"

 

"I don't feel like a hero," she says, looking at him rawly. "I feel empty inside."

 

"So you're what, filling it with tequila and isolation?" he says sharply.  Guilt flares in her dark eyes. "That's what I thought.  Why are you pushing everyone away?  Why are you pushing ME away?"

 

"I don't want you to get hurt," she says, gaze searching his bearded face. "I saw you get hurt once.  I don't want it to happen again."

 

"So pushing me away is the best thing to do?  Wrong," he says, leaning in, his eyes blazing. "Tru, you didn't show up today.  I called everyone.  I called JACK for Christ's sake, thinking something had happened to you.  You didn't answer my calls and when I came here I was two seconds from breaking your door in.  If you keep pushing me away, leaving me in the dark, then I AM going to get hurt.  I'm going to get hurt trying to help you because I'm afraid for you."

 

"You don't have to be afraid," Tru says, her voice rasping. "I'm fine!"

 

"No you're not.  Look at you--you're drunk," Davis says, touching her face. "And you're depressed."

 

"I'm not depressed..." she says with a slight laugh.

 

"You are!"

 

"Am not!"

 

"Are too!"

 

Tru looks at him, her hard gaze softening as she laughs tremulously. "I missed you."

 

"I missed you too," he says automatically. He takes a deep breath. "So what are you going to do?  Keep on with your destructive behavior, or are you going to do your job and save lives?  And stay away from the tequila?"

 

She smiles slightly and blinks sleepily. "Right now I just want to sleep.  I'll handle the rest tomorrow."

 

Davis nods and stands. "You've earned that, at least.  I guess I'll go..."

 

Tru grabs his wrist. "No, stay.  Please.  Just until I fall asleep?"

 

"Oh, I suppose...yeah I can...can do that," he stammers, looking down at her before sitting again.  He expects her to get up, but she curls up on the couch, her head on his lap.  He grabs the blanket off the back of her couch and drapes it over her shoulders. 

 

Tru's hard eyes close, tears escaping out the corners and dotting his khakis with dark brown spots. Davis rests one hand on her shoulder.  She is silent and still for several long minutes and he thinks she asleep, but her voice suddenly breaks the silence.

 

"Thank you Davis," she says in her husky, sleepy voice. "For everything."

 

"You're welcome, Tru," he says softly, looking down at her.  She's already asleep.  Davis settles down, studying her features as she sleeps on, fitful, crying in her sleep. 

 

Tru Davies has become a hard woman, but maybe, just maybe she didn't have to be like that.  Davis hopes he's gotten through to her, but he doesn't know.  It's enough for now, though.

 

Whatever came tomorrow, they'd handle it together.  Even if they had to do it twice.

 

(end)

 

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