The first chapter of this story is a reposting from Stars on Our Knuckles so the same warnings for mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, and past child and animal abuse in this piece. I don't know how quickly I'll be updating this AU because I have no clue where I'm going with this story, but I hope you all enjoy the story!
Clarice didn't immediately look up when the door to the shelter opened, too engrossed in paperwork to hear the bell ringing over the cacophony of barking coming from the kennels behind her. At least she didn't until Zingo lifted her head to the door, ears lifting.
Zingo herself had been an arrival to the shelter two months ago, starved and nearly beaten to death. Whatever had been done to her had, understandingly, made her skittish around most people (especially men).
She must've seen something in Clarice (most likely shared experiences) and refused to leave her side, sitting curled by her feet every day without fail. She'd never shown interest when anyone came, usually hiding under the desk instead so Clarice glanced up to find two people hovering in the doorway and they could not have been more different.
One was a pale, green-haired woman, looking every inch the badass biker chic while her companion was a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked more the strong and silent type. The woman was saying something to him, but the man's dark eyes seemed to be scanning the shelter really intensely.
Clarice caught the gleam of dog tags around his neck and her heart ached in realization. She'd seen enough brutalized animals in the shelter the recognize the signs of trauma in a person. He obviously wasn't going to start growling at her, but there was something in his eyes and the way he was putting himself between the door and his companion…
She stood, the movement getting their attention. She hoped her smile didn't falter as the woman's sharp gaze turned on her and the man regarded her with a hard, cataloging stare, "My name is Clarice. Is there any I can help you…" She trailed off as Zingo uncurled herself and ran around the desk…right at the man. "Zingo!"
The dog ignored her, sniffing at the man curiously.
Clarice didn't want to go and try to pull her away too suddenly (for either of their sakes) and she could only watch the strange, almost alien interaction with wide eyes as the man looked down at her with an unreadable expression as Zingo licked his hand before walking around him once, twice before curling into a ball at his feet.
The woman looked between him and Clarice. "Does he normally do that?"
"She." She corrected automatically, "And no, she doesn't. Zingo's…terrified of men."
"You hear that, John?" The woman smiled, "Zingo likes you."
Clarice went to walk around the desk and John to talk with the woman when she was startled by the sound of Zingo growling…at her. She glanced at the man realizing her proximity had made him go completely rigid. She held up hands up and stepped back slowly, "Okay, girl, I'm moving back alright. I'm going."
"She's a protective one isn't she?" The woman noted.
"Yeah, but…" Clarice watched as Zingo almost guided him over into the row of chairs in the corner, like she knew him being in the open made him nervous. "I've never seen her like this with anyone else but me."
She hummed, "My name is Lorna, by the way."
Clarice nodded, leaning back against the front desk, "How long has he been back?"
Lorna's glanced at her once before looking over at John. "About a month." She worried her lip, "He's refusing to talk about it or go to group therapy. He hasn't been sleeping and he's told me he's fine but…"
She nodded, "Has he tried applying for a service dog?"
Lorna sighed, "The estimated wait time is nearly two years."
Clarice looked over at John and Zingo, the dog having climbed up onto the chairs and rested her head on John's thigh. He ran his fingers through her fur, the nervous, agitated air around him seemed to have lessened, "They've really connected."
"Yeah, that's the most at ease I've seen him since he's been back." Lorna's worry seemed to have lessened as well, but her sadness was still very much evident, "I'm assuming Zingo is not up for adoption?"
"Not yet, we're still getting her back to a healthy weight, but after that…"
"She's not yours?"
"No." Clarice shook her head, "She's taken a shining to me, but…"
Lorna nodded, "Does that mean you're willing to part with her?"
She chuckled, "I'll miss her, but I can see that she's needed elsewhere."
"When do you think she'll be ready?"
Clarice looked over in time to see John smile down at Zingo, her heart lurching in her chest. It was like watching a light break over the horizon, the action completely transforming his features into something breathtaking and beautiful…she cleared her throat, shaking her head, "Uh…it'll probably be two more weeks, just to be sure."
"Well then, I guess we'll be back in two weeks."
"Wait." Clarice turned, wondering what the hell she was doing as she scrawled her cell number down on a sticky note. "This is my number. If you want any updates or want to swing by here again, just gimme a call."
"Thanks." Lorna was looking at her a little strangely. "I will."
Clarice watched the two of them leave, catching John's gaze as the door shut. She felt pinned by those dark eyes in a way that should've frightened her, should've had her putting as much distance between them, but there was something buried in those depths…
Zingo barked, snapping her out of…whatever that was.
"Hey girl, seems you made a new friend huh?"
She licked her hand before going back to the bed and curling up.
Clarice laughed, "You are such a weirdo."
…
It had been nearly four days since she'd talked to Lorna and John and Clarice couldn't help but wonder why she was so anxious for them to call and she'd almost given on hearing from them until the two week mark rolled around when she was awoken in the middle of the night by her phone's shrill ringing.
"Hello?" She held back a yawn, "Who is it?"
"Clarice, it's Lorna."
She reached blindly, turning on the light and running a hand through her hair, "Lorna, what-?"
"It's John."
Ice slide down her spine, shocking Clarice in alertness, "What's-what's going on?"
"Can you bring Zingo by? He's not…he's in the middle of a pretty bad flashback and I can't snap him out it." Lorna's voice trailed off as a crash sounded, "Please, just come over. I'll give the address."
This was crazy. She'd only met them once…there was no reason she should even been considering this but she couldn't get the one smile out of her mind. There was a light buried in him, underneath the weight he carried. "Give me the address."
She scrawled it down, "I can be there in ten." Clarice hung up and scrambled through her apartment, pulling her hair back into a messy bun and throwing on the first clothes she could find before grabbing her keys, "Come on, girl. Let's go."
Her fingers were white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she followed her phone's GPS to the address, an apartment complex, and practically ran up three flights of stairs with Zingo right on her heels. She stopped when she saw Lorna standing outside a slightly ajar door, resting her head against the doorframe. "John, please…it's Lorna."
"Lorna?"
The woman spun around, relief flashing through her eyes before another thud sounded. She didn't even get a chance to do or say anything before Zingo went into the apartment, holding up a hand to stop Clarice from following.
She came closer though, peeking her head just far enough past the doorframe to see.
The apartment looked as though a hurricane had torn through it: overturned furniture and glass glittered on the wooden floor. In the center of all was John, sitting with his back against the couch with his head bowed and one arm on a drawn up knee.
Zingo rested her head on the leg curled underneath the other and something in Clarice was drawn to the sight of his bloody knuckles as he ran gentle fingers through the mottled gray-black fur, the red bright against the white spots as he moved back and forth, back and forth…
She blinked, feeling two points of heat on her, realizing he'd lifted his head to look at her.
Those eyes were dark with shadows, with ghosts, with demons…
Where was that light she'd seen before?
"John?" Lorna's voice was soft, "You back with us?"
His whole expression went eerily blank for a couple seconds before he shook his head and forced a small smile that had nothing behind it. He pushed himself up, careful of the glass as he went to the sink and turned on the water.
Lorna pursed her lips together at the lack of verbal response, but said nothing more as she stepped through the door and motioned for Clarice to follow. She looked down at Zingo with almost a thankful look.
Clarice watched him run his hands under the stream, noting the lack of anything telling her that he felt pain which was all the more concerning considering the water looked to be scalding. She knew she should wait for a queue from Lorna or him, but she walked over to him anyway.
John body stiffened but he didn't move away as she came to his side.
"Do you have a first aide kit?" She refused to look at his face. No telling what stupid thing she'd do then… She focused instead on his split knuckles and the bruises darkening on his brown skin, "Those hands need to be bandaged."
He shut the water off, "There's no need. I've inconvenienced you enough tonight."
She glanced back at Lorna, who only mouthed good luck.
Clarice sighed, reaching out to catch one of his hands in hers and she tried to ignore the shock that went up her arms at the contact. She felt him flinch and Clarice was surprised that he didn't immediately rip his hand away. "You're bleeding, just let me help."
Then he pulled away, "I can wrap my own hands."
She looked over at Lorna, "First aid kit? And rubbing alcohol?"
"I'll go get it."
Now John looked frustrated, "Look ma'am, but I don't-"
"It's Clarice." She cut him off and finally met his eyes. "And I'm going to help. So sit."
He almost appeared shocked by her stubbornness but the gritted teeth also told her that he abhorred accepting help from anyone and Clarice could see the reasons for Lorna's concern more clearly. This man seemed to think he could hide his pain from others like a wounded animal who licked their own wounds in private to keep anyone from knowing there was something wrong to begin with.
Lorna reentered, a white metal box in hand, and sighed, "Christ, John just let her help."
He shot the woman a glare.
She snorted, "I'm not one of your men, Proudstar. That look won't work on me."
Clarice almost laughed at the clear exasperation that flashed across his face, the anger fading as he looked between the two of them. She wondered what he saw as he let out a long breath and leaned back against the counter in resignation.
Lorna handed her the kit.
She set it on the counter and pulled out what she needed, opening the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "I need you to give me a hand…" Clarice took his proffered hand and guided it over the sink, "and this will definitely hurt."
He hissed as she poured it over his knuckles. "Thanks for the warning."
She smiled as she grabbed a roll of bandages, "Figured you already knew that."
He was silent as she started unraveling the roll.
Clarice once again refused to meet that eyes boring into her head, the feeling of his hand in hers and the heat of his body was distracting enough without adding anything else to the mix. She instead tried to remember everything Denise had ever told her about how to correctly wrap a hand, "Straighten out your fingers for me."
He did as she asked, "You ever do this before?"
"Once or twice." She replied, "My last foster mom was an ER nurse."
John hummed, "Looks like you got into a few fights yourself."
Clarice glanced at her own scarred knuckles, "Yeah well, the little ones were easier targets so…"
"You protected them from the other kids?"
"Sometimes." She responded vaguely, "Your other hand please."
"So who protected you from the adults?"
She poured the hydrogen peroxide over his split skin without warning, the words coming out harder than she wanted them to. "I protected myself."
"Sorry…" he grimaced, "I didn't mean to drug up anything."
She almost laughed. Seriously? The man had literally almost destroyed his apartment during a nightmare-induced flashback and he was apologizing for something that had happened to her over a decade ago. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"He's a big boy." Lorna grinned, sitting on the island, "He can take it."
John's smile was fond when he looked at her, "Shilah…"
"Bruder." She responded in kind, swinging her legs.
Clarice watched the interaction as she finished wrapping his second hand, their relationship suddenly coming into light. She seemed more a concerned, nagging little sister than a hovering girlfriend and for a moment, Clarice wondered why she was so relieved at the revelation.
She twisted the lid back on the bottle and gathered up the used supplies, going to walk past him.
He caught her forearm, "Hey, I really am sorry. I know I woke you up and…"
Clarice's face warmed as she shook her head, "No, it's fine. I'm glad Zingo and I could help."
Lorna raised an eyebrow, no doubt noticing the blush. "Is she ready to be adopted?"
"There's couple more things we need to be sure about, but I think she'll be ready in about a week." She pulled herself away from his stare, looking down at Zingo and she could've sworn the dog was actually judging her. "What do you think, girl?"
She barked, tail wagging excitedly.
John chuckled, that same sunrise smile breaking across his face.
Clarice sucked in a sharp breath, stomach flipping and her heart lurching. She shoved down the urge to brush the dark strands of hair that had fallen out of the bun out of his face. Damnit, what the hell was he doing to her?
He looked up at the sound and something in his eyes told her he knew.
She should've been terrified that this man she barely knew could look at her and see everything so clearly, could see into her past and all the things she'd hidden from the world and not judge her for it. But she wasn't. Not in the least.
For the first time, she was fine with being seen.
"So Lorna tells me you gave her your number?"
She swallowed, glancing at woman pointedly not looking at her, "Uh, yeah. Why?"
"Would you mind if I got it from her?"
"I can do you one better, soldier." Clarice managed, holding out a hand, "Your phone?"
One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin, "Yes ma'am."