Another sleepless night.
Another dream that seemed to be within a dream.
Clarice was tired. Always tired. Always seeing the memories when she least expected, always seeing them when she tried to sleep, always remembering them when she sees him. They won't go away on their own, it seems, and she sure as shit can't seem to make them go away.
She crawls out of bed for the third night in a row, alarm clock on the nightstand reading 3:15 am. Shadows from the lamp on the nightstand appearing suddenly, dancing on the bare walls and hardwood floor of the bedroom she was given during her stay.
Her head was in her hands, eyes squeezed shut with both frustration and exhaustion, breath still heavy from the dream – or was it a memory? - violet curls tickling her fingers while she steadied her breathing.
She wished Zingo had chosen to sleep with her again, but maybe she could find her roaming the halls or taking up the end of an empty couch in one of the common areas.
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.
HQ was quiet tonight, a few soft lights would peek under a closed door here and there, a couple dim lamp lights bled into hallways or stairwells from the more private corners of the building. With so many people here, it wasn't a surprise that Clarice wasn't the only one awake at this hour. None of them were still awake from too-real dreams that crawled under your skin like hers did, she guessed. Lucky them.
The border collie was curled up on a pile of folded throw blankets at the foot of a lounger, head dipped down on her front paws with her eyes watching the doorway. It was as if she was waiting for Clarice to find her.
Clarice sits down next to Zingo, pulls her knees to her chest. She strokes the fur of her new friend absentmindedly, welcoming the calm and the softness of Zingo's fur. It made her feel as grounded as she could, to the point her mind started to wander. She doesn't want to, but she can't always help it, not lately anyway – she thinks about the almost-memory.
Of course she does.
Had it happened? Was it real?
She thought she would know if she and John had- no.
He wouldn't be acting like nothing happened if it was the real deal, right?
Clarice didn't even know how to answer that. It's not like she really knew him, though that small peek into his past life was a start. And she's noticed how he acts around everyone in HQ. Supportive, lovely around literally everyone. Loyal. He does what he can because he wants to, not because he has to. And the way he looks at the rest of them, well, she's observant enough to see that he doesn't look at her the same. His eyes are always soft, he tries to joke around and lighten the mood, even if it's brief and his jokes are terrible.
Clarice runs a hand down her face, the other still buried in a dozing border collie's fur. She tried to push aside what she was beginning to feel for John, but this stupid movie reel was making it all the more difficult.
It's not like I'm staying here anyway, she told herself.
Though it wouldn't hurt anything to stick around a little longer. Not anymore, at least. She would make sure she never put anyone in danger again.
"Can't sleep?"
A voice pulled her eyes from Zingo to the doorway on the other side of the common area where John Proudstar stood, looking as stressed as she.
Clarice watched him for a moment, too tired to say something witty, something sarcastic. She just shook her head.
She tried not to stare at the half of John's face not concealed with shadow when it lifted in a small smile. He sat down on the couch next to her, and she let him.