True Faith

There was lots of Review!Love and that makes me happy. Ergo, more. (Still, by the way, have little or no idea where this is going.)

*


One B.C. driver's license in the name of Tru Marie Davies. One Social Insurance Number card, 763 328 392, made out to same. One UBC student card, one Vancouver Municipal Library card, one Blockbuster Rewards card, all with her signature.

They were spread across the table in the diner. Buffy Summers moved them around on the table cloth, lining them up, comparing the photos and the handwriting. She picked up the driver's license, read out the birthdate, stared back and forth between the picture and Tru.

"You need a magnifying glass or something?" Harrison asked. He was having the time of his life, sprawled in the corner seat, his arm resting behind Tru, his feet crowding Buffy's under the table. Tru glared at him, but he was too busy smirking at Buffy to notice. Even if he did, she doubt she could get him to shut up. In his book, this was way too much fun...and he probably thought he could still get a phone number out of it.

Why he'd want it was beyond Tru. Buffy was--was something. Either annoying as hell or way too interesting. Tru was supposed to be sleeping right now, and instead she was getting the third degree from this girl. Any sane person would have given up by now, would have been embarrassed, would have said, "Oops, guess I made a mistake, sorry," and gone on with her life.

Not Buffy Summers.

Irritating.

Intriguing.

Something.

Buffy snapped the driver's license back down on the table and narrowed her eyes at Tru. "Arm wrestle me."

Harrison shot up straight in his seat. "Yeah!" His grin was so wide it was a wonder his face hadn't cracked in half.

Tru drove an elbow into his gut. Harrison gave an exaggerated "Oof!" and gave her a puppy-eyed pout. "You wound me."

"Dork."

"Nerd."

Buffy thumped her elbow down on the table.

Harrison waggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together. "Oh, man, the Big Guy upstairs is listening. Chick fight. This is awesome."

"Shut up, Harrison." Tru tried to size Buffy up. Those green eyes were as deep as the Pacific, and about as cold, focusing intently on her. She was slim--a little too thin, Tru thought, noticing the pointy collarbones under her loose tank top--and she really didn't show much muscle. But the way Buffy had grabbed her before--Tru could still feel the strength of her grip. Even so, Tru knew that she was no lightweight herself. Four years on the UBC track team hadn't just taught her to run fast. She'd been doing weight training since she'd first gotten into sports.

She plunked her elbow down next to Buffy's. She hesitated a moment longer--recently, crazy out-of-the-blue things happening to her wasn't unexpected, but weirdness in her life usually came from dead people talking to her. This was different. It wasn't that Buffy didn't believe who she was--she didn't; she'd muttered something about "bramble magic" when Tru opened her purse and shoved ID at her--it was that, almost, Buffy wanted her to be someone else.

Who?

Buffy made an impatient noise and clasped their hands together. She frowned at their joined hands, as if she expected some sort of magic to happen just from their touching. Tru flexed her fingers and tightened her grip. Buffy's palm was amazingly hard, all callused, like she was used to physical labour, yet her fingernails were painted a girly pink and the skin on the back of her hand was soft.

"Ready?" Tru asked, flexing her biceps.

Buffy met her eyes. Searching for something. Like she was waiting for more of a challenge, for different words. Finally, she said, "Yes," and looked back at their hands.

"All right, ladies, on my mark," Harrison said. "And don't hold back on my account, let me just say, I know a place where there are vats of lime jelly if you need to settle this some other way--"

"Shut up, Harrison." Buffy said it, this time.

Harrison was completely unfazed. "And, for the record, I'm completely impartial here--my sister against a beautiful stranger, hard to pick sides, am I right?"

"On three," Buffy said. "One...two..."

Tru threw her whole strength against Buffy's hand the instant her lips formed the word "three". The trick was to get an early advantage, hopefully surprising the other person and winning quickly, before stamina became the deciding issue. It was the way she ran the four-forty, it was why she'd been the anchor on her relay team, it was how she arm wrestled, and it always worked. As her shelves full of trophies showed.

This time, it didn't work.

Buffy tilted her head and gazed at her curiously as Tru felt sweat popping out on her forehead. Buffy hadn't moved, or even tried to move, but Tru felt like she could be pushing against a brick wall for all the effect she was having. Harrison was practically drooling as Tru strained and Buffy...sat there. Looking disappointed.

Finally, with no more effort than she'd use to pass the salt, Buffy sighed and pressed Tru's hand to the table. They both stared for a moment at their linked hands. Tru was still sweating, even though the contest was over. Buffy's skin was so warm...not the tight heat of a fever, more like her metabolism was just naturally high, like a hummingbird's.

Harrison started singing "Bow chicka bow bow," under his breath.

Tru snatched her hand back and started massaging her wrist, feeling her face burn. Sometimes she could r Har Harri flirted as hard with her as he did with any girl he picked up. He'd probably cream his jeans if she and Buffy actually--did anything. Tru stared at the table top, blushing harder than ever.

"Fine," Buffy said. "You're Tru Davies." She pushed all of Tru's ID back across the table.

"The one and only," Harrison said. "So, Buffy...how long are you in town for? Need a tour guide?"

Buffy leaned back in her seat, drawing idle patterns on the tablecloth in a bit of spilled salt. "I might be interested in having a native show me the sights," she said. Tru looked up quickly, and saw that Buffy was staring straight at her.

Like she was seeing a ghost.

"Then you are in luck, my friend," Harrison was saying. "I happen to know this city like the back of my hand. I know every thing there is to know about places off the beaten path."

"Do you have many cemetaries?" Buffy asked.

Tru frowned. "There are a few. Why?"

"I--I'm a big fan of cemetaries." Buffy shrugged and looked away. "I mean--no reason. I'm on vacation."

"Tru here works at the morgue," Harrison boasted, swinging his arm around Tru's shoulder. "If it's cemetaries you want, we can get you there, right Tru?"

"The morgue, huh?" Buffy asked. She didn't seem shocked. In fact, she was probably the first person who'd ever learned about Tru's job and not immediately started asking whyy shy she worked there, why she didn't look for something better, why a girl like her would want to work with the corpses. Buffy, instead, nodded and stared down at her salt-doodle. Admitting Tru wasn't who she thought--whoever that was--seemed to have drained all her enthusiasm away.

"Freaky stuff," Harrison said, grinning. "I could hold your hand if you got scared."

Buffy gave him a fake smile. "Uh-huh." She stood up. "Well, uh, anyway. Sorry I bothered you. It was nice meeting you...and...well...I gotta go." She gave Tru one last, searching glance, shook her head, and walked out of the diner.


*


Yeah, you know that's not the end of it. Grin.