"Clarice."

Her name was such a soft whisper on his lips that she wasn't sure if she'd heard it or imagined it in her state of shock. Then, his fingers brushed gently over hers in the back seat of the slick black SUV that Esme was currently flooring towards the safe house provided by the Hellfire Club.

It was then she realized her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Her fingers twitched at the unexpected contact, but softened almost immediately at the equally as unexpected tenderness with which his thumb stroked over the back of her hand. She barely remembered creating the portal to get them out of there, but the feeling of John's strong arms around her had made it easier than usual to find the strength.

Tense silence radiated from the front seat. Esme brewed in quiet contempt about their failure to secure Campbell. Marcos stewed in his own disbelief that the Cuckoo sisters had honestly expected them to sacrifice the lives of innocent human children for the sake of completing their already morally questionable mission. And worse was that Lorna had agreed with them. They exchanged several dirty looks and sighs that served as the only soundtrack of the drive back other than the dull hum of the engine as it sped down back roads.

Tension filled the backseat as well, but in a different way. So much remained unspoken between the pair and would likely remain so for quite awhile. Clarice turned from the window finally to let her jade eyes meet John's darker ones. There was so much she wanted to say to him right now. Especially as the shock of the events that had unfolded in the past half hour finally started to wear off and the memories came back in bits in pieces to form a composite image in her mind. She turned her hand over underneath his so they were palm to palm and although she immediately missed the soothing circular motions he'd been tracing against her skin, she found just as much comfort in lacing their fingers together and offering him a gentle squeeze. For a moment they just looked at one another; eyes searching to make sure the other was really okay.

John was used to worrying about others. As a leader of the Underground, it was part of the job description. However, he was usually equally as good at keeping people at arm's length. He would do anything to protect his people, but he was also careful to not get too emotionally attached to them. The way he worried about Clarice was different. Carnal. Instinctive. He didn't have a choice when it came to caring deeply for her. The feelings, it seemed, were just there. He needed her to be okay, maybe more than he needed to be okay himself. It terrified and exhilarated him all at once.

Clarice on the other hand wasn't used to worrying about anyone other then herself. She was used to being on her own. To be quite honest, she was good at it. On some levels, she preferred it. As her eyes searched his she couldn't help but smirk as a moment of realization hit her. Largely in part to meeting John and joining the cause, she'd found herself more in danger than ever before in the last few weeks yet she'd also never felt safer. It seemed oxy moronic, really, but she had a sneaking suspicion the complex nature of this situation would cease to exist if John weren't a part of the equation.

The smile that had played briefly at her lips garnered a quizzical look from him. But, as she opened her mouth to clue him in, the SUV came to a stop and instead, she squeezed his hand once more, a promise of an explanation yet to come.

They'd been back at the safe house over an hour before they finally found a moment alone. Marcos and the blondes had hashed it out for a while with John trying to be the voice of reason. That had ended with a mess of slamming doors and a lot of shouting.

Sometime after, Lorna had come to the room John and Marcos had been sharing and he'd taken his cue to leave as more of an excuse to have some time alone with Clarice. He moved the short distance down the hall to knock gently on the door Lorna had just left from.

Cautious not to say come in and unknowingly invite one of the telepath sisters in to pick her brain, Clarice had opted to walk to the door and pull it open slightly to reveal who was there before allowing them in. Much to her delight, instead of finding one of the immaculately dressed fair-haired clones, she saw the man who'd made her heart flutter and breath catch since before Dreamer's pink smoke had ever come in to the picture. Wordlessly, she pulled the door back more and then stepped away, allowing him to come in and close the door behind him.

Suddenly, now that they were alone, and despite the fact that they had so much to say to each other, Clarice found herself struggling to find her words. Where to start? She swallowed hard, her tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips. She cleared her throat lamely, but nothing came out.

He wore strong and silent well; that was true. But words of wisdom were also John Proudstar's specialty and yet just like his female counterpart, he found himself silenced in this moment. He crossed the room to stand in front of her, his tall frame towering over hers. He too had things he wanted to say, but instead, he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes, breathing her in. Talking was important, of course. But for a moment, he just wanted to be with her. After everything they'd gone through, not just today, they deserved the respite.

Her hands came up to rest behind his neck and she leaned up on her tiptoes, to create more closeness between them. Her own eyes closed as the fingers of her right hand tangled themselves into the hair at the base of his neck. "John." It was her turn to let his name fall from her lips in an almost silent whisper.

The breathiness of her voice caused his eyes to blink twice and then flutter back open briefly and though he'd fully intended for them to have a conversation about everything that had just gone down, his lips had other plans. His hands joined their mission as well and in one fell swoop, he was cupping her face and bringing his lips down to capture hers.

This kiss was much slower and more romantic than their first, less restrained. His left hand dropped from her cheek to wrap around her waist and draw her against him, deepening the kiss as he did. It was amazing what could transpire when a life altering kidnapping mission wasn't threatening to ruin the moment. They both could have allowed themselves to get lost in that kiss indefinitely, but it was Clarice who finally pulled back. "Definitely real." She confirmed her earlier assertion, breathless and panting.

A genuine smile grew on his lips. "Very real." He agreed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and then leaning to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, pulling her against him into a tight bear hug. "You're safe." He whispered into her violet hair. Though, he said it as much for his own sake as for hers.

"Thanks to you." She whispered, her hands sliding under the hem of his t-shirt, daring to traverse the strong muscular back that had shielded her from the bullets that so easily could've ended her life. "Are you okay?" She asked, her fingers could feel the heat radiating from the spots on his back that she assumed must've been bruises from the bullets that had torn his jacket and button down but thankfully not him.

"I'm always okay." He promised, his eyes fluttering closed slightly at the feel of her light touches against the sensitive skin on his back. What a loaded statement that was.

"No one who has gone through what you have gone through is ever okay." She corrected and he was too tired and her statement was too accurate for him to argue. They shared a quiet look of understanding and he wished just for a moment that such pain and loss wasn't one of their commonalities.

Instead of trying to disagree, he responded with, "Physically," amending his own statement so it reflected some truth, at least. Still, his statement failed to satisfy her.

"Let me see." It wasn't a demand, but it was too firm to be considered a request. Clarice also made little effort to wait for a response and much to his chagrin she pulled away from him, and he instantly missed the warmth of contact. When he didn't move at first she added a softer, "Please," and though he hated to be so vulnerable, if it ever felt right to be so, it was with her.

Against his nature, he tugged his shirt over his head, complying to her want. Clarice couldn't help but take a moment to hungrily take in his Adonic form, her fingers reaching out to trace down his muscular chest before she could stop herself. A slight blush tinted her cheeks at her blatant gaping and she cleared her throat and moved around to face his back, happy to escape the amused look on his face at her gawking for the moment.

The happiness was short lived though as her eyes widened, taking in the bruised flesh, four distinct points of contact that would've been fatal to her if he hadn't—her breath caught in her throat at the thought. "John…" There was that breathless whisper again; her voice so soft and small was his kryptonite.

He turned around to face her once again, "I'd take a hundred more if it meant you were safe." He admitted honestly, looking into her eyes. His words took her aback in the best way. Yet, her eyes were full of sadness that he'd endured that pain for her. "It'll hurt me a day or two max and then I'm good as new." He promised, knowing she was already feeling guilty dealing with the fact that he was hurt, at least in her eyes, because of her. He longed to tell her that without her he wasn't sure any of this would be worth it, but that was for too intense for the small amount of time they'd known each other and he didn't want to overwhelm her, or himself for that matter, so instead he went with; "Besides, Zingo would never forgive me if anything happened to you…" He added blithely, to his delight, it earned him a smile.

His words proved that he knew her so well already. The thought made a lump form in her throat but she forced a smile anyway. His words did overwhelm her, because she'd never felt so valued before. In spite of herself, tears threatened to spill from her eyes, which had become glossy at his opening statement. Welcoming his window of lighthearted escape she managed to push back the looming waterworks. "Well we can't disappoint Zingo." She grinned in gentle agreement, though her smile did falter slightly when he pulled his shirt back over his head.

"Maybe he can be your new warm jelly donut." John suggested, an innocent smile playing at his lips as he instinctively reached for her, his fingers looping into one of her belt loops, drawing her towards him.

"I think you may have already replaced the donut." Her smile broadened even as a slightly embarrassed blush tinted her cheeks at her honesty. His dimpled grin grew to match her own. "But keep in mind that it's been a long time since I've eaten a warm jelly donut or even had the opportunity to have one, so you do have an unfair advantage." Her smile turned into a smirk, dampening the sentimentality of her words ever so slightly.

"Are you telling me you'd pick a jelly donut over me, Clarice?" An amused look played on his features, though he did his best to feign offense.

"No of course not!" She defended, pulling him against her this time, popping back up to her tiptoes, looking very seriously at him. "Only time I pick the jelly donut over you is if it's warm." She winked, dissolving into a giggle.

He joined in with her teasing laughter, "As much as that hurts, I can kind of understand that. And part of me doesn't blame you." His eyes were alight with a misplaced playfulness that matched hers. He needed this reprieve from the constant stress and worry of running the Underground, protecting his people, making the tough calls, trying to stay two steps ahead of Sentinel Services, it was all becoming too much. The recollection of all this had his eyes on the verge of darkening with seriousness now, but she wasn't ready for that just yet, and neither was he.

"What's your warm jelly donut?" Her voice managed to cut through the mounting stressors that threatened to bring them back to reality.

He let the amusement come back to his eyes and his considered her question for a moment. "I mean had there been a deep dish pepperoni pizza there when they were shooting at us I may have had a tough decision to make…" He teased, but his actions failed to align with his words as he moved his hand up to tangle in her hair once more and his lips captured hers once again.

They allowed themselves this quiet escape just a little longer. Their lips moving against each other with a practiced ease already. His hand not already occupied by her purple tresses moved so his thumb could brush the bottom half of the lilac diamond surrounding her eye. "There is so much uncertainty." He whispered against her lips, but he pressed them to hers once more, interrupting his own thoughts for a moment. "Everything is so messy and complicated." Admitting these things out loud brought him a surprising amount of ease. "Except for this…" That part of his confession made him feel weightless for a moment and he drew back, his hands dropping to her shoulders to pull back and look at her. "You're all that makes sense to me right now Clarice," His raw honesty surprised even him. "When you left and I came after you I tried to pretend it was because the Underground needed you. But, I needed you." The words came flooding out now, as if a dam had broken. "I need you. I want you. I don't know what that means or how we can be together at a time like this but-I can't keep denying – " John rarely stammered over his words and Clarice took great satisfaction in being the cause of it. "There is so little joy left in our lives, I won't deny us this." He finished, dropping his gaze to meet hers searchingly.

She smiled slightly at him, nodding in quiet understanding and agreement. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself to him, resting her head against his chest. They stayed like that another moment and John moved but she tightened her grip on his shirt. "Just a little longer." Her voice was so small, yet commanding as it came out even more muffled as her face was buried into his chest.

He smiled contently, more than happy to oblige her request.