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Tru Calling: Thorn in My Side

Summary: "I can't be a part of something that isn't real," she told me. "Something that's fake." There was nothing fake about this. There was nothing fake about the thorn in my side… Tru/Jack one-shot. Jack's POV.

There was nothing fake about this. Nothing fake about the way she ran around trying to save people from their Fate. A Fate I had to make sure was in order, one that was determined by the intricate ticking of a preset clock. One that was destined to go off at the most inopportune moment.

For her anyway.

There was nothing fake about this. Nothing fake about how I seduced her. Why else would my polar opposite – the poisonous thorn in my side – be lying next to me? Her face exemplified struggle; she fought to gain back the power, to take back what was her own. In her dreams she struggled to take back what was rightfully hers. Unconsciously, my arm reached out to touch her, stroking her back.

I ached to comfort her, wanting to tell her it would be all right; she would not have to feel pain anymore if she didn't want to.

But we both knew that was a lie.

A distortion of reality.

Something fake.

Nothing would ever be all right again. A simple act of lust had destroyed the precarious ripple, the fine line that separated the multifaceted boundaries of Life and Death. Tonight had destroyed everything each of us stood for.

So what was real now?

Just then, I felt her stir beside me.

I hesitated, though I did not remove my hand from her back as I felt her shiver slightly.

"Why?" she asked, sighing in her semi-conscious state. "Why are we doing this?"

"This isn't what you wanted?"

"I don't know what I want, Jack," she replied, not bothering to turn around and face me. Maybe she was scared I would prick her if she looked into my eyes as I was still the thorn in her side, the serrated edge of a knife that opened a fresh wound on the small of her back. When I annoyed her, I pricked her with my seductive ferocity.

She let me toy with a few of her dark chocolate curls as my lips pressed against her ear.

"Look at me."

I was surprised that she did what she was told. She hardly ever does. She's stubborn like that.

Her sleepy brown eyes burned through my own and that was the first time I noticed the wet, shiny tears stained around the rims.

"Something else is wrong," I said. "Tell me, it's okay."

But her silence did not waver.

I leaned closer, closing the gap between us when I pressed my lips against hers. She responded back with an ardent fervor I hadn't been expecting.

And then she pulled away.

Wait…

"I can't… I can't do something that's not real. Come tomorrow, we'll both pretend like this never happened. I can't be a part of something that isn't real," she told me. "Something that's fake."

Her words made me shiver as though I had just been hit by a vicious torrent of ice water. "But we're not…"

I paused.

"What we're doing… it's not fake."

I brushed a few stray strands of her luscious brown curls from her eyes. "What makes you say that?"

Her eyes fluttered just then as if sleep had suddenly come back to reclaim her and I realized how incredibly exhausted she was. She probably hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in days, maybe weeks.

"I'm so tired. I can't… do this. I just…" she sighed as she let a precious wave of sleepiness overtake her.

I knew how she really felt about me and I really wasn't sure what this night would mean to her come tomorrow. But it meant something to me; it left me imprinted with her delicate scent and a ripe desire to explore all that was unknown between us.

But now I had to let her sleep. I owed her that much.

And I continued to watch her sleep, to watch her wrestle with the nightmares of indecision that plagued her.

One final thought crossed my mind before I fell into a deep slumber of my own.

There was nothing fake about this. There was nothing fake about the thorn in my side…