Pathology: Tru Calling fic
Jack isn’t sadistic, just relentless.
He wants to hurt Tru and the surest way to do that is to mess with the people she cares about.
Messing with Harrison is almost too easy. The kid’s pathological; he’s turned on by anything dangerous, high risk, anything that carries the potential for disaster. Jack might set up compromising situations, but Harrison’s the one who walks right into them. When he bets, he counts on winning. When he gets into trouble, he counts on Tru to save his ass, keep him from doing something he’ll regret.
Tru can’t always be there. She’s not there now.
They’re in the alley. Inside, there’s a room full of shady characters sitting around a poker table. Harrison’s a wreck, pasty pale, disheveled, circles around his eyes. He’s been playing nonstop for most of the last twenty-four hours without food or sleep. He’s just watched a guy get beaten to a pulp for not being able to pay up, and he knows that he’s next if he doesn’t come up with $6,000 dollars in the next fifteen minutes.
Jack’s willing to bail him out. After all, he was the one who brought Harrison here in the first place. Of course, he’s asking something in return.
“Why are you doing this? “ Harrison asks again. There’s an edge of whining to his voice. “Why do you want to do this to me? You don’t like guys, you’re into Tru…”
He’s doing it to fuck Harrison up, to confuse and frighten him. He’s doing it so that Harrison will have a secret eating him up inside, something he can’t tell Tru. She’ll know that something’s happened to him and it’ll drive her crazy that she couldn’t protect him. He’s doing it to fuck with Tru. It has nothing to do with sex. Hasn’t anyone ever explained to Harrison that rape isn’t about sex?
No. It’s not rape. It’s not coercion, Jack tells himself.
No one made Harrison bet money he didn’t have. No one’s making him accept Jack’s help. Harrison has a choice. Jack isn’t making him do anything against his will.
“You should have quit while you were ahead, Harry,” Jack says.
“Just shut up and get it over with,” Harrison snarls. He comes on like a real tough guy, but he’s really just a scared kid. He whimpers when Jack slips a hand under his ratty brown leather jacket, twisting a nipple through his shirt. He backs up against the wall and closes his eyes tight. It makes him look like a little boy, but Jack can’t let himself think about that.
He won’t be able to do this if he thinks about how young Harrison is, twenty years old but even younger inside. Something in him stopped growing when his mother died. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself, how to move forward, just how to keep the pain at bay. Jack’s using that against him, taking advantage of that, but he doesn’t let himself think about it.
He doesn’t let himself think about Harrison’s father and how this was his idea. He’s doing this with Richard Davies’ blessing. Davies wasn’t able to use his son the way he’d planned, so he was willing to use him in a different way to fit Harrison into his plans. Davies had his wife murdered, why would he be sentimental about his son?
Jack doesn’t let himself think about these things. Harrison’s against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, pants undone, while Jack’s hand is stroking the pale flesh of his belly.
“Turn around,” Jack orders.
“Please, don’t make me do this.”
“No one’s making you do anything,” Jack says. “You can go back inside and explain that you can’t pay. You can walk away and let them track you down. You have a choice.”
“Those guys in there, they’ll kill me. You saw what they did to Holbrook…”
They won’t kill him. Not over $6,000. They’ll beat the shit out of him, but he’ll live. If Harrison was thinking straight maybe he’d realize this, but he’s not thinking straight. He’s scared and exhausted and he knows Jack, kind of trusts him. He’ll give in.
“Them or me, Harrison,” Jack whispers. “It’s your choice.”
“I don’t know what to do… What should I do…?” Harrison mutters, voice trailing off.
Jack turns him around, presses him against the wall. His hands slide down Harrison’s pants, circle around his cock. He’s hard. This is what turns him on. Danger, excitement, thrills, high stakes. The devastating loss is just the flipside of the big win. He’s sick, as addict to this as Meredith is to her cocaine.
Jack goes slowly; coaxing him open with lube slicked fingers before easing into him. He wears a condom. The latex barrier makes it that much easier. Something between them reminding him that it’s nothing personal. He likes Harrison well enough; it’s just that the order of things is at stake. Tru’s on one side, Jack’s on the other. Harrison’s caught in the middle.
“You can’t put yourself in situations like this, my friend,” Jack says as he’s fucking Harrison. “There’s not always going to be someone looking out for you. Is this what you want from your life? Is this who you want to be? You can’t let people turn you into their puppet. You’ve got to grow up, take control of your life or someone else will do it for you.” As he talks, his hands close around his throat, tightening dangerously. He doesn’t mean to be rough, but he’s suddenly angry. Why is he angry? There’s nothing to be angry about.
When it’s over, Harrison’s on the ground clutching at his throat, gasping for breath. There are red welts on his neck from Jack’s fingers. His cheek is raw from where Jack’s knocked his face against the building.
He’s crying, but there’s nothing to cry about. He got off easy. Jack’s hurt him a lot less than the guys inside would have.
Of course, wasn’t the point to hurt him?
He pats Harrison awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Go home,” he says. “Get some sleep. You need it. I’ll settle up inside.”
Jack leaves Harrison in the alley, heads back to the table fingering the bankroll Richard Davies has provided him with. He doesn’t look back but he feels sort of sick.
If this day gets played over, he’s going to find a way not to do this.