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Tru Calling and Community Crossover: Hurricane

Jeff (re: Britta): That woman is a hurricane.

Troy: Yeah…

Jeff: Hurricanes are bad, Troy.

Troy: Right.

Community, Season 2 Episode 10 "Mixology Certification"


Britta Perry does whatever the hell Britta Perry wants. In this case, it's taking the first plane out of Colorado to New York for the weekend. Only for a few days, she reasons.

Of course she'll take the red eye. She just wants to get there already. It's not that she misses the overripe stench of urine or cigarette smoke or whatever was caked into the walls of the not-even-one-star motel. It's that she misses him. His smile, the way he makes her laugh when they've had one too many drinks and can barely get out the door of the bar and back to his apartment. She misses the way his eyes flicker to hers, curious and amused, as she recounts her latest adventures at Greendale Community College with her study group friends.

She's always wanted someone who will just listen.

And he does.

This man, Jack Harper, the one she met at this bar in New York City a few days after the Tranny Dance fiasco, seems to understand her. At least to a point anyway.

It's not that she needs a man in her life. Oh, heaven forbid. And she still isn't sure if she believes in heaven because she's not religious at all. It's just… the atmosphere of the bar and suddenly he's there and they're talking. When they first meet, he buys her third drink and her forth and then some. (She's already had two drinks before he saunters over to her. But clearly, it's not enough).

"You're a guest in the big city," he says. "It's the least I can do." And then he smiles.

She smiles back before she realizes what's happening.

"The name's Britta Perry and I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I have no doubts about that," Jack replies, extending a hand towards her. "Jack Harper. The next round's on me."

She thinks about getting drunk and making out in the back of the car with Jeff Winger – or Wing Dinger – as she secretly mocks him after Troy's birthday celebration in that bar. How could she have made out with him again? Weren't they past all that crap and bullshit?

"Guess not," Britta murmurs to herself as she does what she does best. As soon as she can, she's on a plane to New York.

And, as she looks out the window of the plane, she breathes out a sigh of relief.


"Oh, please!" Britta exclaims as she rolls her eyes dramatically. "You'd really wanna go to Douche Street?"

"Sure, why not? Seems like a pretty cool bar," Jack says. He then finishes off the last of his second beer.

"Trust me, it's not," Britta intones. She's also finishing off the last of her second drink and eating the last of her four olives that the drink has come with.

"This Jeff guy must really be something," Jack tells her. "After all, why else would he go through all this trouble, if not to impress you?"

"Impress me? Oh, no. We're like this all the time. I did tell you that he found the condoms in my purse, didn't I? After I dumped out all of the crap I had in my purse on the study room table, he notices the condoms. So typical!"

Jack chuckles for a second, then takes Britta's hand in his and looks into her eyes. "Seriously, though, Britta. Since when is our relationship any of his business? So what if he found the condoms?"

"I don't know. I just…" She stops. "Wait… is that what we're having? A relationship?"

"Yes, Britta, I do believe that's what things like this are called these days," Jack teases. "Even if it's not the most respectable kind. And even when you know it could all be over tomorrow."

"You could go back to Tru," she whispers softly, like she genuinely means it.

Jack smiles, letting go of Britta's hand and looks down into the seemingly bottomless abyss of a soon-to-be-filled-again glass of beer. "I never had Tru."

She detects a hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks of this mysterious brunette she's never met. A part of her wonders if they'd get along, if they could ever be friends.

In an attempt to break the brief moment of silence that passes between them, she replies, "Well, then, I never had Jeff either." She pauses for a moment, then continues. "You know, Troy told me that Jeff said I was like a hurricane. I believe his exact words were 'That woman is a hurricane' or something like that."

Jack quirks an eyebrow at her, clearly intrigued. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Through his alcohol fogged state, he tries to think about Tru for a moment. About how Tru fits into this hurricane statement. Tru Davies is like a hurricane as well. She does great damage to what he only sees as the natural order of the universe. Everywhere she goes, she is destruction. She thinks that by saving lives she is helping the greater good, a bigger schema. She is his opposite, one that is hell bent on doing the "right thing" for those around her and for herself. Being her opposite isn't easy, but he loves a challenge. He loves the fiery look she gets in her eyes when she's determined to win. He even loves it when she wins. There's a twist. Sometimes, he lets her win. But even then, she is a challenge. But kissing her, holding her that one time in the pouring rain as she breaks down in his arms… the feeling is euphoric and puts Jack in a daze. Sometimes he thinks loving her the way he does is a mistake. They only kissed once after all. And she runs. Like Britta, she also runs away. Like Britta, she doesn't want to deal with the repercussions that will inevitably follow after that one night. So she runs away. She still saves lives, but she keeps a greater distance from Jack than before. He chooses not to go after her.

Jack and Britta sit for another moment in silence before Jack waves the bartender over. He orders both him and Britta some more drinks.

Soon, they'll have had too many. Soon, they'll go back to his apartment. Again. Just like before. They'll tear at each other's clothes until every piece of clothing covering them winds up on the floor. They'll be under Jack's sheets, flesh against flesh, without a care in the world. He'll kiss her forehead gently as a small smile forms on her lips. Night will turn into the early hours of the morning as Britta falls asleep on Jack's chest, his hand lost in the messy tangle of her blonde curls.

He expects her to be gone later that morning when he wakes up. She is.

Just like that. Just like a hurricane. Here one minute and gone the next. Sort of like what had happened with Tru. But he will be seeing Tru again. This he knows for sure. But Britta?

There's no note on his pillow. No text message on his cell phone. She's gone.


Britta isn't surprised when she gets a text message from Jack a few weeks after the start of the new year. He mentions that he and Tru are together now. They were able to work things out. The text message is short, sweet and casual. He wishes her well.

She's about to put her phone away and walk into the study room, ready for the new semester to begin. She hasn't heard much from the rest of the study group during their winter break. They had all gone off and done their own things. Well, except for Troy and Abed. They always somehow inevitably end up hanging out together. She makes a mental note to ask them if they had built another blanket fort.

But before she puts her cell phone inside her purse, it buzzes. It's another text from Jack.

Give Jeff another chance, Britta. You never know. He might surprise you.

Britta sighs, staring at the text message for a moment longer. For a moment, she contemplates about whether or not she should respond to his text message.

But she has other things to worry about.

She never texts him back.

Fin.