Tru Calling: Boundaries

Author's Note: Companion piece to Amethyst B's beautiful story 'Talking in Shadows,' though it doesn't specify an exact time. Originally, I had completely different plans for this story, but in light of a personal tragedy that has been developing in the last day or so, I decided to take this story in another direction. This story is for you, Liz! I hope you enjoy it.

The vibrant rays of sunlight stretch out languidly across the baby blue sky. A cool breeze picks up its steady pace, carrying with it the delicate scent of flowers coming into bloom and the echoes of carefree laughter reminding her of the spring season.

Red roses rest in the crook of her arms as she takes them to their desired destination. In this moment, she moves with slow, hesitant steps, each one more careful than the last. Golden rays shine light on the weathered headstone as she approaches it reverently. She tries to ignore the gravelly crunch of heavy footsteps behind her, but finds the task daunting even when she does not voice her concerns.

She wants him there, needs him there. He knows as much as she does. He completes her.

More importantly, he loves her.

Still, he silently waits in the shadows behind her, a place where the sun's rays cannot elucidate his presence. He respects the boundaries they have set between them. This was her time, her moment of grieving. The only other time when she allowed herself to grieve save for the loss of Luc.

Tru Davies bends down, setting the flowers near the headstone. Her fingers trace the embossed words as if trying to reclaim lost memories.

At last, she finds her voice as she whispers into the cool air, "Mom…"

Tears form along the rims of her eyes, but they dare not fall. Not yet. She dare not wipe them away either.

Jack Harper watches her, head bowed in silent respect as he waits.

"Jack…"

He turns away from Tru and towards the direction of the voice.

A beautiful woman stands before him, the same dark brown eyes reflected in the young woman standing several feet away. The same smile…

"Mrs. Davies," he murmurs slowly in disbelief. "What…?" But his voice trails off, words falling short of his shocking surprise.

"Listen to me. I know you love my daughter. The way you love her is completely different from how her father loved me. And I do believe he loved me. But I've observed the multitude of ways in which you care for and about my daughter despite being on opposite sides of this balance. The bond you two share is unparalleled. So I need you to promise me something."

Jack nods silently, listening.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of my daughter. That you will now stand together to fight against the unequal equilibrium of the yin and the yang. You will work together to create a desired whole, a new destiny for the next pair of opposites that are called to represent Life and Death."

Elise Davies smiles, gazing lovingly at her middle daughter.

"I promise," Jack whispers and its one he vows to keep forever.

"Oh, and one last thing, Jack."

"What's that?" he asks curiously.

"Take care of my granddaughter, too."

Jack's eyes light up as his gaze drifts to Tru once more, a hand resting on the slight swell of her stomach. But before Jack can answer her, the spirit of Elise Davies vanishes into the cool air as the late afternoon transforms into early evening. Darkness descends upon them in only a few hours and Tru stands still in silence and mourning.

With the first signs of evening upon them, Jack moves forward. As he slowly approaches Tru, he observes her. He observes how the dark curls of her hair form the outline of her delicate face now streaked wet with shimmering tears. Reaching out, he takes her hand in a silent gesture of support.

After a moment, she turns towards him and stares into the crystalline blue of his eyes as if seeking comfort in them.

"Hey," he finally whispers, squeezing her hand gently.

Boundaries of who they are and what they represent cross and merge, but neither of them cares anymore. Life needs Death and Death needs Life. It's a twisted juxtaposition, but so is the cruel hand of Fate they are dealt.

With every life comes death.

With every death comes life.

When she breaks down, he's there. His eyes reflect the silent yet persistent questions that cannot escape from her throat.

How is this fair? What part of her death is okay?

His embrace brings her comfort, something she craves when she's in mourning yet struggles to feel or cling to. He murmurs indiscernible, soothing words into her hair until her cries taper off and her breathing regulates itself to a normal rhythm.

"She died protecting you, Tru," he reminds her. "She died making sure you lived, making sure you were safe."

The words seem almost ironic coming from her polar opposite, the man who represented Death. But they are words she hears over and over and over, still jolted by their weight in meaning.

As the sun starts to set below the horizon, the two representatives of Fate leave together hand in hand. Her other hand rests protectively on her stomach and she takes a breath when she feels the flutter of life inside.

Boundaries that must converge erupt in a crashing union where yin and yang becomes a blurred grey, where dark streaks of black and pristine streaks of white clash and then come to rest.

The soft earth caves into the crushing weight of rubber, the tip of a crutch being pressed into the ground.

The young woman, now about twenty six years of age, moves carefully through the cemetery. Two bright pink crutches help distribute her weight as she approaches the headstone in front of her.

She doesn't bend down to trace the words on the headstone, but rather stands in silence for a few moments.

"Hey, Mom," she finally says. "It's Clarity. Just thought I'd stop by to-…"

Her voice wavers as tears prick her eyes and when she finds her sense of balance, she wipes them away.

"Happy Birthday, Mom," her whisper lingers in the cold air that sends a chill up her spine. "Dad really misses you. He promises to visit later. Don't worry; we're taking care of each other." She laughs softly before continuing. "Uncle Davis and Uncle Harrison are fine, too. They'll come by to visit soon."

She glances down at one of her hands, the hand with the silver engagement ring sparkling on her finger. "Andrew and I… we're… we're getting married next month. Really wish you could be there."

She pauses, laughing lightly again.

"You know, Dad said it would happen this way. Falling for my opposite and all. We hated each other at first, but I'm sure you know the rest. I just… I want you to know that I'm happy. And I'm okay."

She blows a kiss in the direction of the headstone. "I love you, Mom."

The sun starts to set as the young woman walks away and the glowing silhouette of Tru Davies watches her leave, beaming with pride at the incredible young woman her daughter had become.

Fin