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Not Everything

Tru Calling: Not Everything

Historian's Note: This story takes place after the season finale of Tru Calling.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Tru Calling characters except for the ones I made up... even though I wish I did!

Chapter One

Only a few months had passed since Luc's funeral. Not a day went by since that time when Tru didn't think about him. She thought about him and was constantly plagued by a throbbing guilt. What if she had gotten there just a few minutes earlier, a few seconds even? Then maybe, just maybe Luc would have lived. The guy had shot Luc right before her very eyes anyways, but maybe she could have talked him down a little more. NO! That was no use at all; the guy had been on a killing spree because he thought Luc had slept with his wife. But Luc didn't. He never did. And to make matters worse, Luc had not only died at the hands of a crazed killer, he was also a victim of Jack's clever manipulations.

Tru was still grieving. She would always grieve. Over the loss of her beloved and over the loss of her mother. And somehow whenever she was feeling down or whenever the feeling of giving up was imminent, Tru thought about her mother. She thought about how brave her mother had been, since they shared the same gift and faced similar perils.

These past few months had just been grueling for Tru both emotionally and physically. She often found herself spending more time in the morgue than usual and she would come home exhausted after a long night shift. Despite the tedious hours she worked, not one body had asked for her help since Luc's funeral.

Last night's night shift had been no exception to Tru's nightly rigmarole. All Tru wanted to do was sleep for an eternity. She actually slept peacefully that night with pleasant dreams rather than the horrible nightmares that had been haunting her for the past months.

At least until...

CRASH!

Tru Davies groaned as she was rudely awakened from her peaceful slumber.

Just a few more minutes, please. She thought to herself.

Please...

Wait a minute...


Tru forced herself awake.

There's somebody in my apartment!

Tru was now on full alert.

She pulled back her covers and climbed slowly and carefully out of bed. The crash sounded as if it had originated from the kitchen area.

Tru crept over cautiously.

What the...?

"Harrison?"

Uh-oh! She caught me!

Harrison Davies turned around sheepishly to face the wrath of his older sister.

Tru was incredulous. "What are you doing? What the hell is going on in here?"

"Morning, sis!" Harrison greeted Tru cheerfully. "Just thought you'd like some breakfast in bed on this lovely Monday morning! So, what'll it be?"

Tru rolled her eyes.

Why did I even bother giving him my spare key?

"Breakfast in bed has become too clichéd, Harry."

Glad I caught him in time before he burned down my apartment!

"Aw, c'mon Tru. I can whip up a mean omelet!" Harrison gestured to the frying pan in his hand. "Or how 'bout some bacon? Fried to a crispy crisp. Or maybe you'd like some French toast with-..."

"Listen Harrison, I appreciate the effort. I really do. But how about you give me a few minutes to get ready and we'll head down to the diner for breakfast like we always do. Oh, and while I'm getting ready if you wouldn't mind cleaning up your mess..." Tru's voice trailed off and she gestured to the pots and pans laying haphazardly on the counter and the floor.

"Aw, c'mon. What ever happened to good ol' home-style cookin'? He paused and looked at his sister who raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Plus," he mumbled. "My budget's kinda tight today, but how about next week?"

Tru rolled her eyes again. Will he ever learn? Should I even bother answering that question?

"Huh, that's funny 'cause I somehow seem to notice that your budget is always low." Off Harrison's nonchalant expression, Tru said, "Hang tight, Harr. Just give me a few minutes to change. Then, we're going out for breakfast."

Tru and Harrison sat having breakfast at the diner. The weather outside was nice and warm, the sun shone brightly in the baby blue sky and white, puffy clouds covered the sky like a patchwork quilt.

"You haven't heard from Lindsay, by some crazy chance recently have you?" Harrison asked with eager curiosity.

"No, but I'm sure she's having a grand old time with Randall in England," Tru replied.

"Yeah, grand old time," Harrison bit off.

Tru carefully picked up her steaming cup of hot coffee and sipped it gingerly. "You still believe there's hope for you two, don't you?"

"Yeah... I do. It's not every day that you see the woman you love go off to Europe with another man."

"It's not every day that you see the man you love get shot right in front of you," Tru countered. "And all you can do is..."

"Watch," Harrison finished for her.

Tru felt tears well up inside her eyes, but none fell. She held them back. She looked steadily at Harrison and Harrison gazed back at her. Their eyes sparkled with understanding, coping with loss and understanding each other's pain. They understood each other on a level no one else could even come close to...

And that was that.

Later...

Tru arrived on time to the morgue later that night. She headed straight for the Standards Room where she found Davis unzipping yet another body bag.

"Oh, Tru. Good, you're here. This body just came in. You ready to get started?"

"As ready as I'll never be," Tru replied, as she headed into the adjoining room and grabbed her white lab coat.

"Are you okay?" Davis asked, concerned about the well-being of his employee as she headed back into the Standards Room.

"Yeah, Davis. I'm sorry it's just been rough for me these past few months. I know I've kinda been a bitchy pain in the ass with all of the emotional outpours and-..."

"No, you haven't," Davis replied. "You're still grieving. It's never easy—for anyone." Their eyes met for the briefest moment. Warmth. Solidity. Understanding. They understood each other too. Davis had lost his wife. He knew that dealing with death wasn't pleasant. He knew.

And then, as quickly as the moment had started, it ended. Back to business.

"So who is it this time?" Tru asked, as she headed over to the examining table to inspect the victim.

"Sabrina Williamson. She looks about nineteen years old." Davis informed her.

They examined her body and found she had severe bruising in the neck area.

"How do you think she died?" Tru asked. There were no other visible markings or wounds on the rest of her thin, lean figure.

"It looks like she was suffocated."

Tru grimaced at the thought. She remembered reading Othello in high school and the part where Othello had strangled Desdemona had entered her mind.

Who would want to do that to such a beautiful girl?

Tru was shaken from her deep reverie when Davis said, "Tru, why don't you start bagging the personal items? I'll be right back."

Tru acknowledged him with a sharp nod.

She turned away from the body and headed towards a drawer for some plastic bags and a pair of gloves.

Suddenly...

"Please."

A little caught off guard and edgy, Tru startled at the sound. She turned around and saw the girl's head snap in her direction.

"Help me."

Here we go...

Images of the present day came flashing and swarming and flashing, until Tru found herself bolt upright in bed and greeted by an oh-so-familiar crash.

Throwing off her covers, Tru ran into the kitchen. It was a mess once more.

"Oh, for crying out loud Harrison!" Tru was agitated.

Harrison turned around. "Morning, sis! Just thought you'd like some-..."

"Breakfast in bed?" Tru finished for him. "Sorry Harr. Don't have the time today."

"What do you mean you—oh jeez. Who is the lucky person this time?"

"A nineteen year old girl, who apparently was suffocated," Tru replied.

She threw on some clothes in a timely fashion and headed for the door.

"But what about breakfast?" Harrison called after her.

"Well, it looks like you're on your own this morning. Oh, and don't forget to clean up the kitchen!" She headed out the door, leaving Harrison alone and praying silently to herself that he would stay out of trouble.

Harrison was upset with Tru's response. "Oh, man!"

Tru headed straight for the morgue. She ran down the hallway and headed into Davis's office, only to be greeted by the back of Davis's large swivel chair which he so frequently occupied.

"Davis, I—..."

Davis's black swivel chair swiveled around and Tru found herself face-to-face with Jack Harper.

To be continued...