sinful words (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
and_chocolate) wrote2004-05-11 11:21 pm
and_chocolate) wrote2004-05-11 11:21 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: The Price of Fame [WiP, 1/?] LotR actors/Tru Calling crossover
Title: The Price of Fame (1/?)
Fandom(s): LotR actors/Tru Calling crossover
Archive: Please don't.
A/N: If you aren't familiar with Tru Calling, check out the series blurb. Everything will make so much more sense! Story contains spoilers for the season finale of Tru Calling. Mucho, mucho thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vegetariansushi, my tremendously helpy beta reader. Any remaining mistakes are my fault, not hers.
Summary: Tru must stop what appears to be a suicide pact between two men, but her job is made more difficult by the fact that they're well-known actors who are almost impossible to get close to.
The Price of Fame, part 1
by sinful words
Aside from the brief excitement of Davis spilling an entire can of Jolt on his keyboard, it was a quiet Friday night at the morgue. One quiet night didn't bother Tru, but the fact that it came at the end of a whole week that had been equally quiet was a little worrying. Especially since she was sure Jack was out there somewhere, just waiting for a chance to interfere with her next rewound day.
Sometimes she wondered if things would have been different if she hadn't confided in Jack, if she'd listened to Davis and had pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary about her or her life. She was probably better off knowing she had an enemy, though; from what Davis had said, Jack had probably already known -- or at least suspected -- about her when he had applied for the job at the morgue.
Maybe if she'd confided in Luc sooner....
Not a productive line of thought. She couldn't do anything about the situation now; Luc was dead and buried and hadn't even fucking asked for her help. Somehow losing someone she loved hurt much more now than it had before she learned that death wasn't always final.
Realizing she'd been staring at the same page for who knows how long without reading a single word, Tru snapped her book shut. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Davis flinch at the sudden sound, and then she heard the clatter of plastic on tile as he dropped some of the keytops he had pried off his keyboard to clean.
"Sorry," she said. It was easy to forget she wasn't alone, especially when Davis was engrossed in something and not trying to flesh out her education in the finer points of geek culture.
Davis shook his head. "It's okay. It's nearly eight; we should be getting ready to leave anyway, right?" He swept the rest of the keytops into a desk drawer and Tru fought not to laugh. She could just picture Jenkins coming in for his shift, looking down at the half-stripped keyboard and swearing a blue streak.
She was gathering her things, ready to clock out and head over to the diner for breakfast with Harrison -- steeling herself for talking him out of whatever crazy scheme he had today -- when the door swung open to admit a uniformed tech pushing a gurney.
It looked like things were getting a little less quiet.
The tech manhandled the gurney into position in the middle of the room, then handed Tru his clipboard. "One more in the van. Double suicide, looks like," he said over his shoulder as he headed back out, nodding to Davis as he passed.
The sound of the body bag being unzipped barely registered with Tru as she skimmed the transport documents, but a noise from Davis made her turn. He was standing frozen next to the gurney, and the shocked look on his face reminded her of any number of grieving relatives she'd dealt with over the past few months.
Ashamed, she quashed the spark of excitement that had been growing at the thought of having something to do. As soon she stopped thinking about the people she was helping and started --for whatever reason -- being happy someone had died, then she was no better than Jack.
"Davis?" She was by his side in two quick strides, her hand going automatically to his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
He whispered one word, "Frodo," which made absolutely no sense to Tru. She looked down at the body, hoping it would give her some clue.
It was a man -- barely more than a boy, really, she thought -- and he looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on where she'd seen him before. His dark, spiky hair was a stark contrast against skin that was unnaturally pale, even for a corpse.
Looking back down at the clipboard, she summarized, "Twenty-three-year-old male, found in a bathtub full of water, apparent suicide. He bled out." Sliding the zipper down further, she turned his right hand palm up. A single clean, deep cut ran along the radial artery from his wrist to his elbow, and a quick check showed the same to be true of his left arm.
Before she could get any more information, either from Davis or from the paperwork, the tech returned with the second gurney. Close behind him was a stocky, red-haired woman.
"Look, lady," he was saying to her, "I told you once already. You can't come in here. The ME's office will make a statement as soon as they know anything conclusive."
Tru intervened, stepping forward and putting one hand on the woman's elbow, deftly steering her back out the way she'd come in. "Is there something I can help you with?" Tru asked.
"My name is Joy Johannes," the woman said, digging in her purse as she spoke. "I'm a freelance journalist, in town for the art museum fundraiser. When I saw all the commotion in the hotel this morning I asked one of the maids about it. She told me that they'd killed themselves." She finally came up with a press pass from her purse, holding it out for Tru to examine.
Tru wondered if this was how she sounded to other people: short on the details and long on the strange and crazy. "What's your relationship to the deceased?" she asked.
Joy laughed. "The same as everyone else's, I guess. They make the news and I report it and you read about it. Here," she pulled a business card and a pen from her purse, scribbled on it, and handed it over. "That's my cellphone number. When the medical examiner is ready to make a statement, I'd like to be at the press conference. I'm going to stick around Baltimore for a couple of days. This is a pretty big story; it could make my career. And how much more romantic can you get than a lovers' suicide pact, right?"
A whole lot more romantic, in Tru's opinion, but she just said, "I'll be sure to give him your card," and gave the woman one last gentle nudge through the front door.
Back in the crypt, she found Davis standing almost exactly as she'd left him. Somehow she didn't think he was going to be much help at the moment. The tech handed her the second clipboard on his way out, and she tucked both of them under her arm and reached for the zipper on the second body bag, wondering if the woman had killed herself in the same way as her boyfriend.
When she pushed the flap of the bag open, it revealed not a woman but a man, streaks of blond frosting his close-cropped brown hair and traces of black eyeliner around his eyes. Tru blinked and stopped, re-evaluating. Either the reporter had her facts wrong or Tru had been too quick to make assumptions. A glance at the second clipboard told her that the paramedics had found no visible trauma to indicate cause of death, but a prescription bottle beside the body suggested suicide by overdose.
"Davis." He didn't look up, so she raised her voice and repeated, "Davis!"
This time he started, and she almost felt guilty again. She really needed to know more about the two men, though, and since Davis seemed to recognize at least one of them he was the most likely source of information.
"Sorry," he said softly.
Tru could hear her heart thudding in her chest now, the beginnings of an adrenaline rush starting to hit as her body anticipated the day rewinding at any moment. "It's okay. Just tell me what you know about them, okay? Starting with names?"
"This is Elijah Wood," Davis said, looking down at the brunet. "He's an actor. Pretty big name, actually, since the Lord of the Rings movies. And that...." He moved over to stand beside Tru, looking silently down at the second man for long enough that Tru was starting to itch. "That would be Dominic Monaghan. Also from--"
"Tru!"
The voice didn't surprise her; her body was already singing with the knowledge that she was going to relive the day. She wasn't sure how she knew, or even if it was actually knowledge rather than just hope that she'd be asked to help, but still she turned her head in time to see wide blue eyes staring through her as Elijah said, "help me," and then the too-familiar feeling of vertigo took over.
( to be continued )
Disclaimer: I'm not in a position to know what the LotR guys get up to in their free time, but I seriously doubt that it's anything like this. I don't own Tru, Harrison, Davis, or Jack; I'm just borrowing them from Fox for the duration of the story.
Fandom(s): LotR actors/Tru Calling crossover
Archive: Please don't.
A/N: If you aren't familiar with Tru Calling, check out the series blurb. Everything will make so much more sense! Story contains spoilers for the season finale of Tru Calling. Mucho, mucho thanks to
vegetariansushi, my tremendously helpy beta reader. Any remaining mistakes are my fault, not hers.Summary: Tru must stop what appears to be a suicide pact between two men, but her job is made more difficult by the fact that they're well-known actors who are almost impossible to get close to.
by sinful words
Aside from the brief excitement of Davis spilling an entire can of Jolt on his keyboard, it was a quiet Friday night at the morgue. One quiet night didn't bother Tru, but the fact that it came at the end of a whole week that had been equally quiet was a little worrying. Especially since she was sure Jack was out there somewhere, just waiting for a chance to interfere with her next rewound day.
Sometimes she wondered if things would have been different if she hadn't confided in Jack, if she'd listened to Davis and had pretended there was nothing out of the ordinary about her or her life. She was probably better off knowing she had an enemy, though; from what Davis had said, Jack had probably already known -- or at least suspected -- about her when he had applied for the job at the morgue.
Maybe if she'd confided in Luc sooner....
Not a productive line of thought. She couldn't do anything about the situation now; Luc was dead and buried and hadn't even fucking asked for her help. Somehow losing someone she loved hurt much more now than it had before she learned that death wasn't always final.
Realizing she'd been staring at the same page for who knows how long without reading a single word, Tru snapped her book shut. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Davis flinch at the sudden sound, and then she heard the clatter of plastic on tile as he dropped some of the keytops he had pried off his keyboard to clean.
"Sorry," she said. It was easy to forget she wasn't alone, especially when Davis was engrossed in something and not trying to flesh out her education in the finer points of geek culture.
Davis shook his head. "It's okay. It's nearly eight; we should be getting ready to leave anyway, right?" He swept the rest of the keytops into a desk drawer and Tru fought not to laugh. She could just picture Jenkins coming in for his shift, looking down at the half-stripped keyboard and swearing a blue streak.
She was gathering her things, ready to clock out and head over to the diner for breakfast with Harrison -- steeling herself for talking him out of whatever crazy scheme he had today -- when the door swung open to admit a uniformed tech pushing a gurney.
It looked like things were getting a little less quiet.
The tech manhandled the gurney into position in the middle of the room, then handed Tru his clipboard. "One more in the van. Double suicide, looks like," he said over his shoulder as he headed back out, nodding to Davis as he passed.
The sound of the body bag being unzipped barely registered with Tru as she skimmed the transport documents, but a noise from Davis made her turn. He was standing frozen next to the gurney, and the shocked look on his face reminded her of any number of grieving relatives she'd dealt with over the past few months.
Ashamed, she quashed the spark of excitement that had been growing at the thought of having something to do. As soon she stopped thinking about the people she was helping and started --for whatever reason -- being happy someone had died, then she was no better than Jack.
"Davis?" She was by his side in two quick strides, her hand going automatically to his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
He whispered one word, "Frodo," which made absolutely no sense to Tru. She looked down at the body, hoping it would give her some clue.
It was a man -- barely more than a boy, really, she thought -- and he looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on where she'd seen him before. His dark, spiky hair was a stark contrast against skin that was unnaturally pale, even for a corpse.
Looking back down at the clipboard, she summarized, "Twenty-three-year-old male, found in a bathtub full of water, apparent suicide. He bled out." Sliding the zipper down further, she turned his right hand palm up. A single clean, deep cut ran along the radial artery from his wrist to his elbow, and a quick check showed the same to be true of his left arm.
Before she could get any more information, either from Davis or from the paperwork, the tech returned with the second gurney. Close behind him was a stocky, red-haired woman.
"Look, lady," he was saying to her, "I told you once already. You can't come in here. The ME's office will make a statement as soon as they know anything conclusive."
Tru intervened, stepping forward and putting one hand on the woman's elbow, deftly steering her back out the way she'd come in. "Is there something I can help you with?" Tru asked.
"My name is Joy Johannes," the woman said, digging in her purse as she spoke. "I'm a freelance journalist, in town for the art museum fundraiser. When I saw all the commotion in the hotel this morning I asked one of the maids about it. She told me that they'd killed themselves." She finally came up with a press pass from her purse, holding it out for Tru to examine.
Tru wondered if this was how she sounded to other people: short on the details and long on the strange and crazy. "What's your relationship to the deceased?" she asked.
Joy laughed. "The same as everyone else's, I guess. They make the news and I report it and you read about it. Here," she pulled a business card and a pen from her purse, scribbled on it, and handed it over. "That's my cellphone number. When the medical examiner is ready to make a statement, I'd like to be at the press conference. I'm going to stick around Baltimore for a couple of days. This is a pretty big story; it could make my career. And how much more romantic can you get than a lovers' suicide pact, right?"
A whole lot more romantic, in Tru's opinion, but she just said, "I'll be sure to give him your card," and gave the woman one last gentle nudge through the front door.
Back in the crypt, she found Davis standing almost exactly as she'd left him. Somehow she didn't think he was going to be much help at the moment. The tech handed her the second clipboard on his way out, and she tucked both of them under her arm and reached for the zipper on the second body bag, wondering if the woman had killed herself in the same way as her boyfriend.
When she pushed the flap of the bag open, it revealed not a woman but a man, streaks of blond frosting his close-cropped brown hair and traces of black eyeliner around his eyes. Tru blinked and stopped, re-evaluating. Either the reporter had her facts wrong or Tru had been too quick to make assumptions. A glance at the second clipboard told her that the paramedics had found no visible trauma to indicate cause of death, but a prescription bottle beside the body suggested suicide by overdose.
"Davis." He didn't look up, so she raised her voice and repeated, "Davis!"
This time he started, and she almost felt guilty again. She really needed to know more about the two men, though, and since Davis seemed to recognize at least one of them he was the most likely source of information.
"Sorry," he said softly.
Tru could hear her heart thudding in her chest now, the beginnings of an adrenaline rush starting to hit as her body anticipated the day rewinding at any moment. "It's okay. Just tell me what you know about them, okay? Starting with names?"
"This is Elijah Wood," Davis said, looking down at the brunet. "He's an actor. Pretty big name, actually, since the Lord of the Rings movies. And that...." He moved over to stand beside Tru, looking silently down at the second man for long enough that Tru was starting to itch. "That would be Dominic Monaghan. Also from--"
"Tru!"
The voice didn't surprise her; her body was already singing with the knowledge that she was going to relive the day. She wasn't sure how she knew, or even if it was actually knowledge rather than just hope that she'd be asked to help, but still she turned her head in time to see wide blue eyes staring through her as Elijah said, "help me," and then the too-familiar feeling of vertigo took over.
Disclaimer: I'm not in a position to know what the LotR guys get up to in their free time, but I seriously doubt that it's anything like this. I don't own Tru, Harrison, Davis, or Jack; I'm just borrowing them from Fox for the duration of the story.
no subject
That's really cool.
Did Luc die in the series or is that something you made up for the story, I missed alot/
I love Tru Calling and I love Domlijah and can't wait for more.
This is really cool.
no subject
Luc died in the season finale. It was supposed to be Harrison, but Tru managed to save him. Jack turned out to be Tru's nemesis, bent on making sure dead people stay dead instead of being saved, and he manipulated things so that Luc died in Harrison's place because he wanted to punish Tru. And she'd just told Luc about rewind days, too. It sucked.
I love Tru Calling and I love Domlijah and can't wait for more. This is really cool.
Thank you! Though I have to tell you that it's not really Domlijah. It's not really even going to be slash. The reporter's comments are...complicated, and that's pretty much all I can say without spoiling future parts. *g*
no subject
Well, its very cool anyway, and I will wait and see.
no subject
I don't know the TV series (big surprise, no?) but this is fascinating -- the start of a really engaging story. It'll be neat to see how this develops :)
no subject
I would've made you watch it, except that I didn't think I was fannish about it. Surprised the heck out of me when I suddenly wanted to write stories in that universe. *g*
this is fascinating -- the start of a really engaging story. It'll be neat to see how this develops :)
Thanks! I'm glad you find it interesting. I'm about halfway through the next section, so it should be up in the next couple of days.
no subject
no subject
More importantly to me, how did you find it now? *g* I'm always curious when people stumble across my fic a while after I've posted it. FWIW, I've got the whole thing plotted out already, so chances are I'll finish it.
...are you writing more?
Absolutely. I've got the second part written, but I think I'm going to have to rewrite it because it's currently a telephone conversation between Tru and Davis and it's not working. I think it needs to be face-to-face. As soon as my life calms down, I'll revise and post it.
I liked this a lot.
Thank you!
Poor Davis! I can hear him, "Frodo"...
*g* It's Davis's fault I wrote this at all; I was inspired when we found out he was a LotR fan. (I have a huge thing for geekboys.)
no subject
I eagerly anticipate!
I'm trying to remember where I found this. It was a strange rec community, with recs and posts for weird pairings and crossovers. I clicked through to it from a list of HP recs, which was weird in and of itself. Maybe it was
no subject
FUCK! Is there anything sadder than coming across a part 1 written so many months ago and loving it? There's probably not going to be any more of this, is there?
Davis saying "Frodo" like that. Oh, *hearts him*.
God, this is so deliciously juicy. You know, I think I'm going to just randomly daydream plots to this. So, heee, no pressure to write the rest.
(obviously, I would LOVEandADORE for you to do so, but if this is a dead WIPs I totally respect that.)
no subject
Actually, I've got part two written, but I need to completely rewrite it. It's currently a telephone conversation between Tru and Davis, but it needs to be in person because she needs to see his reactions.
Eventually, when I'm back to writing, it will be finished; I've got the whole thing plotted out. At the moment my life sucks and I haven't written anything in ages because I'm too stressed/depressed/frustrated/apathetic/pick a descriptor. Feh.
But thank you for your squee; it makes me feel better. *g*
no subject
I totally understand the stressed/depressed/frustrated/apathetic feeling. But you're so lovely - it's wrong for you to be suffering. If I was in charge, things would be different. *pets you*
no subject