[description of a meltdown/panic attack, mentions of injuries]
Am I really starting yet another story? Yes I am. I didn't mean to start writing it, but there it is.
This posting is a bit rushed because I really wanted to have the first chapter out before the next episode airs. I only have about half of a chapter written after that, though for once I pretty much know where I'm going with this story.
I'll warn you right here that it will be dark. Darker than anything else I've written for this show. Don't come here for sweet Thunderblink scenes.
"What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to Clarice," Marcos says. He and Lorna have stood uncomfortably in the tunnels, held at gunpoint, for over fifteen minutes before Erg finally showed up, with Glow in tow. He likes to keep them waiting.
"I thought she made it clear she doesn't want to talk to you," Erg says, annoyance clear in his deep voice.
"It's important. Please."
Erg starts shaking his head and retreating away, but Glow catches his arm. She meets Marcos's eyes briefly.
"Wait, there's something really wrong, isn't there?" she asks.
"It's about John," Marcos nods.
"Then that's one more reason Blink will want nothing to do with it," Erg says. "They're not together anymore. Stop coming down here."
"No, she left him, I remember," Marcos spits out. "But I think she's going to want to hear this."
"So I should let you and your little terrorist girlfriend in, risk my people, all so you can talk to Blink?"
Lorna tenses at the insult, but she doesn't comment. Marcos turns to Glow. "Just tell her, please. We need to meet. Wherever she wants."
"Come on," Erg growls, shaking off Glow's hand. She nods at Marcos with a sad smile, the brand on her face briefly catching the light.
"Who is she?" Lorna asks once all of the Morlocks have disappeared back into the shadows. It's the first time she's come down there, and Marcos hesitated to bring her, but he doesn't think he can get through to Clarice on his own. Not anymore, not without exploding. Or breaking down in tears.
Too much has happened in the last few weeks.
"She's one of the mutants you broke out of the mental hospital," he explains. "We brought most of them down here."
The one good thing is that Lorna and him have had time to talk, to resolve some of their issues. They're not arguing constantly or sniping at each other anymore.
"She likes you," Lorna remarks, but there's neither worry nor jealousy in her voice.
"Perhaps," Marcos shrugs. "But she chose to stay here with the Morlocks, so it doesn't matter."
"We need to go back," Lorna says. "I don't know how long Lauren can keep John under control."
Marcos nods, looking sadly at the direction Erg and Glow disappeared in. "We'll come back tomorrow, then," he says to the empty air. The Morlocks always have someone watching, Clarice told him. "Same time."
Glow is waiting for them the next day, alone.
"Blink−Clarice will see you," she announces. "Follow me."
Marcos and Lorna look at each other, then nod and let her lead the way.
"Where are we going?" Marcos asks.
"Same place you've been before. She's waiting for you."
"Why couldn't she come herself?"
Glow stops and looks at him directly.
"Erg couldn't be sure you wouldn't just try to snatch her away," she says.
Marcos rolls his eyes. "Clarice is an adult. She made the decision to come down here, we're not here to kidnap her."
"I know," Glow nods. "But she's not...certain of where she stands with you right now."
"Right," Lorna mutters. "She's afraid of me."
"Maybe. Or maybe she doesn't know what you all think of her."
"She's refusing to talk to us!" Marcos groans. "How many time have I been down here?"
"Too many," comes a voice behind them. Marcos jumps and turns to see Clarice standing at the tunnel intersection they've just passed. "That's the problem. Can you blame me for thinking you don't want to let me make my own choices? You've been pursuing Lorna and Andy for what, ten months now?"
Marcos looks her up and down. She's wearing the same clothes she did when she left, though they look mostly clean. She's already paler than usual from not seeing the light of day. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes them in.
"Andy is a child, and there was Dawn. You're an adult and you've made your decision. We're not here to convince you to come back."
"I hope you wouldn't bring Lorna if you were," Clarice says, disgust in her voice. "Why are you here?"
"It's about John."
"I see. So you're not here to make me come back, you're here to make me feel guilty for leaving John. You−" she gestures to Lorna "−should at least know there's no point."
"Because you don't care?" Marcos spits out.
Lorna shift uncomfortably beside him. "No," she says slowly. "Because nothing we can tell her will make her feel worse than she already does."
Clarice looks away, swallowing. Then she takes a deep breath and raises her head high.
"What happened to you?" she asks.
It takes Marcos a moment to even figure out what she's talking about, he's so rattled by what just transpired. But Clarice motions toward Lorna's arm, still in a sling with bandages peeking out of her sleeve, and to the large gash on the side of his own face.
"It's a long story," Marcos sighs.
"It has anything to do with what you want to tell me about John?"
"Everything," Lorna says. "But as Marcos said, it's a long story. If you want to hear it, we'd better go somewhere we can sit."
Feeling her sway slightly, Marcos slips an arm around her waist. "You okay?" he murmurs in her ear.
Lorna nods. "I'm good."
"Fine," Clarice says. "Come."
She leads them into the same room−if it's even possible to call it a room−where Erg held the branding ceremony. Marcos closes his eyes briefly at the memory, the smell of burnt flesh coming back to his nose, but now it just smells like sewers. Which is only marginally better.
Glow makes a move to attract his gaze. "I'll be over there if you need me," she says, gesturing to one of the tents scattered across the floor.
Marcos looks around him. There are mutants everywhere, immersed in their activities. He notices Erg standing not far from them, observing them, a frown on his face.
"Sit down," Clarice says, indicating an empty table.
"So this is where you live now," Lorna states.
Her tone is not unkind, but Clarice bristles anyway. "It's not as luxurious as the Inner Circle Headquarters, I'm sure."
"I'm not welcome there anymore," Lorna answers.
"Ah. So you've outed yourself. How is that working for you?"
"As you can see, not so well. But it was for the best."
"So you're just, what, back together? Just like that?" Clarice asks. She wants to sound sarcastic, but there's an edge to her tone, something Marcos can't quite identify.
"No, not just like that," he says. "But I'm not sure that's any of your business."
"You're the ones who came down here wanting to talk to me."
Once again, there's something off in her hostility.
"So, what's that story? Where's John?"
"Currently, in your−his apartment," Marcos answers.
"Is he okay?" There. Now Marcos can hear the hint of anguish clearly.
Marcos and Lorna look at each other.
"No. But we'd better start at the beginning."
Three weeks earlier.
"So you went out on your own and took an enormous risk without talking to anyone again?" John resists, barely, slamming his hand on the Strucker's living room table. "That's what you're telling me?"
Caitlin and Reed look at each other. John can hear−see−Lauren in her room, sitting on her bed with her head in her hands, pretending not to hear them arguing.
"John, we did it to help. I know you're in a bad place right now−" Caitlin starts.
"This isn't about me," John growls. "The last time you went to see your brother, Marcos and I had to rescue you. What made you think it would be different this time?"
"Danny's a good man−"
"Who sold you out! Caitlin, I'm−obviously−all for securing us human allies, but you can't just do that kind of move without talking about it first! Unless you've already decided you're done with us?"
"No, of course not!" Caitlin exclaims, but she doesn't even sound convincing. "We're just trying to help!"
"Well getting yourselves arrested is not going to help us!"
"Say the man we had to rescue from Purifiers three days ago," Reed mutters.
John opens his mouth to retort, and finds himself speechless. This is a hit far below the belt.
"Reed−" Caitlin puts a hand on her husband's arm, but he shakes her off.
"You've been getting more and more reckless, John. We can all see it. And now with Clarice gone−"
John closes his eyes and wills himself not to explode. The mention of Clarice hurts more than shotgun pellets hitting his chest.
"And you've been hiding from this fight, from your own powers, for how long?" he hisses.
"It's not the same, my power is too dangerous! I can't afford to let it run wild!"
"If you ever want to get out of this situation, you need to train!" John does explode this time. He's been standing there listening to the Strucker's little worries for too long, and they won't even hear what he has to say. He's been trying to convince Reed to learn to control his mutation for weeks. "Your power is destructive, and painful, only because it's been repressed for so long. You can't keep ignoring it!"
"But Madeline Riesman said−" Reed starts, meekly.
"That woman wanted to wipe mutants out of existence! Are you going to believe anything she said?"
"She said Reed would die without the treatment," Caitlin interjects.
"She also tried to use Lauren's DNA for her own purpose," John shakes his head. "How do you know she was even honest with you?"
"Maybe he's right," Caitlin turns to Reed. "We don't know. We've been working under the assumption that she actually wanted to help, but−"
"Caitlin, my mutation is too dangerous to risk going off the treatment," Reed says.
"Every mutation can be dangerous if you don't train them!" John shouts, exasperated. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Do whatever you want with your life, but don't come to me if it goes wrong and you start destroying everything around you."
"John−"
"No. I'm going to go do some training now, I'll be in the junkyard if you want to join me. Figure it out. I'm done trying to do what's best for everyone."
He slams the door on the way out, hard enough that it will probably be damaged. He can't deal with all this crap anymore. Not when the Underground is in shambles. It's only them left to stop the Inner Circle now, and their personal issues can't be allowed to interfere. Including his own.
John has been trying to get his mind off Clarice all day, but nothing he's done has managed to make the hole inside him hurt less. It's like a whole part of him has been ripped away. It's different from the grief-filled world he evolved in for months after he lost Pulse, or the strange, painful emptiness that Dreamer left behind. Clarice isn't dead, for one thing, and John is truly grateful for that. If living down in the tunnels with the Morlocks can spare her life in this fight, then John will encourage it with his whole being.
Except that the price might just be his own sanity. He hadn't realized, how much he's been relying on Clarice to drag him out of the obsessive guilt trips and tunnel vision moments he keeps falling into, but he's not sure he can do this without her.
Scratch that, he knows he can't do it without her.
John starts when he realizes he's in front of their apartment. He didn't mean to come here. Hell, he specifically avoided it after the spiral of memories he drowned in last night.
But Clarice's presence is everywhere, not just in the apartment. It's outside in the corridor, walking alongside him, a ghost of the past. It's in the junkyard he spent most of the night in, taking cars apart instead of sleeping. Even though she barely ever went there.
John almost chokes when he opens the door. There's her scent, her trace, on every wall and inch of the floor, on every object. He knows from experience that it's not going to start fading for months. He can't be here.
He rushes into the bathroom, heaving violently into the toilet. It's too much, her presence that was so comforting just yesterday morning now overloading his senses. Purple hair flash around his vision, the smell of his own vomit overpowered by her shampoo. John grabs the bottle of shampoo and throws it out of the room, but the smell is not coming from there.
Tears running down his face, John closes his eyes tightly and presses his hands over his ears. It doesn't stop anything. Not the noise of the neighbors, of the street outside, of Caitlin and Reed he can still hear arguing from here. Not the glare of the lamp, when his hearing provides the high pitched hum of the electricity running through it. Not Clarice's hands around him, hurting him, painful against his insensitive skin like they've never been in real life.
Now they are agony.
John rocks back and forth on the cold floor he doesn't feel, squeezed between the toilet and the wall. His whole chest is on fire, but he's stopped caring about that a while ago. The knot, the hole, the whatever that hurts so much inside him is growing too big, engulfing him.
So he sits there, and wishes for the bliss of numbness.