New chapter, where we get away from John a little bit to follow Clarice. Enjoy!


Clarice and John stay silent for a while after Marcos leaves, both absently petting Zingo, not looking at each other. She's still trying to process the fact that John feels so guilty about what happened in Atlanta and Charlotte.

They haven't really talked yet about anything beside his injury. It's been at the center of Clarice's thoughts since it happened, and John hasn't been conscious and coherent long enough to have that many conversations. But the loss of the station, which he learned about by bits and pieces since he woke up, is bound to have affected him badly, and she never really asked him what it feels like.

John removes his hand from Zingo's head suddenly, turning his head away. Clarice sits back, worried that it's another fit of back spasms, but she catches sight of the sudden brightness of his eyes. She bites her lip and lets him have a moment, focusing on Zingo instead.

After a while, John turns back to her, his eyes dry again, breathing deliberately slowly.

"What are you thinking about?" Clarice asks softly.

John doesn't answer, swallowing.

"John?"

He looks up at Clarice, something like desperation in his eyes.

"We've lost...sacrificed so much."

Clarice nods slowly, taking his hand. For the first time since he woke up, he squeezes her hand back and doesn't try to wriggle out of her grasp to avoid hurting her.

"The station−" she starts.

"It shouldn't be that important since everyone made it out, but...it was my home."

"I know," Clarice murmurs. She feels the urge to hug him, but right now it would just be painful.

"I just...I can't really wrap my head around everything, not yet. I can't think properly."

"It's a lot. And you're in pain. You need to give yourself time."

"I don't think we have time," John sighs. "I need to figure out some kind of plan before the meeting."

"Are you sure the meeting can't wait a little longer?"

"If we wait, people are going to start wandering off, taking their chances on their own, and that's the best way for the Sentinel Services to find us. It's too dangerous."

"Okay," Clarice says. "In the morning, then."

"Yes. If only I could move more..."

"John−"

"I know. I'm just tired of the pain," John mutters.

"John, I don't understand," Clarice starts. "Why won't you take the painkillers? No one needs them more than you do."

"Caitlin didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? She just said that you don't want them and she's not going to force you."

John bites his lip. "I, uh… I have a history with pills."


Clarice is still trying to digest John's story when she comes back out into the main room. She needs air, she decides. She crosses the room, barely paying attention to anything around her.

In the sheltered courtyard behind the garage, she finds Shatter and Reed in deep discussion, likely about the supplies that a team of mutants is sorting through at the other end. For lack of something better to do, she approaches them.

"Clarice," Shatter nods at her.

"How's John?" Reed asks.

Clarice has had to answer this question so many times in the last two days that she doesn't even hesitate. "Holding on," she says simply.

Reed nods in understanding. He married a nurse, after all. He knows there's no point in more details this close to the injury.

"He wants a meeting in the morning," Clarice adds.

"Already?"

"Marcos tried to tell him it could wait, but he wants to talk about the situation."

"Alright, but...isn't it a bit early for a full meeting?" Shatter asks.

Clarice shrugs. "I'm just the messenger," she says.

Shatter nods, putting a hand on her shoulder. Clarice gives him a small smile but carefully steps out of his grasp. Being touched by anyone beside John makes her skin crawl right now.

"Can you tell the others?" she asks.

"I will," Shatter says, retreating back inside.

Clarice runs a hand through her hair and leans against the wall. She's almost forgotten that Reed is still here when he speaks.

"How are you doing?" he asks in a low voice.

Clarice looks up at him. "I...I don't really know," she says. "It's only been two days, but it feels like an eternity. And at the same time like time has frozen."

"I think we all feel a bit like that," Reed says.

Clarice follows his line of sight to the group by the supply crates. Lauren and Andy are both among them. They look fine, if subdued, but they're standing apart, avoiding each other's eyes.

"They're not doing great," Reed answers her unspoken question. "Lauren wakes up screaming every time she tries to sleep. And Andy won't talk to us beyond the bare minimum."

"I heard what they did at the station," Clarice says.

"You mean to the station. I hate that they had to do that. And I hate even more that I'm scared of my own children's powers."

"Reed..." Clarice starts. She's too tired to get her thoughts in order, but something needs to be said. "What they can do is incredible. And yes, it's dangerous. But being afraid of their powers, being afraid of them, it will only hurt them. Maybe even encourage them to use their abilities badly."

"I know, but−"

"As a kid, I went through two dozen foster homes, at least," Clarice cuts him off. "All of the parents were afraid of me and what I can do, one way or another. Some took me back to the social worker the second they saw me, and some tried to beat it out of me. The best were caring, but they wanted to hide me away forever. Don't do that to your children. It's your responsibility to embrace everything they are."

Reed is looking at her strangely by the end of her rant. Clarice realizes she hasn't shared this much personal information with anyone but John. Reed stares for a while, then nods.

"I'll do my best," he says.

Feeling vulnerable now, exposed, Clarice pushes herself off the wall and heads back inside. Reed goes to follow her, but he winces and brings a hand to his head.

"What's wrong?" Clarice asks him.

"Nothing, just a headache," Reed answers. "I've had it all day."

"Go talk to Caitlin about it," Clarice says. "She's got actual painkillers, now."

"I'll do that."

Clarice watches Reed go. Before she can slip away back to John's room, Marcos invades her space, coming out of nowhere.

"I'm worried about John," he starts, looking at her expectantly.

Clarice stares back at him. "I'm pretty sure we all are," she says.

"No, I mean about his state of mind. He's not...dealing with this very well, is he?"

"You expected him to do what? Shrug it off and go on with his life? Or cry on your shoulder?"

"I don't know," Marcos shakes his head. "I just−"

Clarice sighs when he trails off. She's already pissed about his behavior in there, and about how hesitant he was to go see John in the first place. Aren't they supposed to be best friends?

"Just let it go, Marcos," she says. "This is not something you can fix."

"So we let him pretend he's fine and nothing happened?"

"He's not pretending that!"

"Well it looks like that's what he's doing!"

And you could tell that in the, what, fifteen minutes you spent with him? Clarice wants to shout. She doesn't. Having a row is the last thing they need right now. She tries to reason with him instead.

"Marcos, I haven't been around for very long, but even I can tell that John hate showing any weakness. He doesn't think he's allowed to be anything other than strong."

"But that's the point! He can't keep doing that!"

"He knows that, Marcos. He's going to have to learn to depend on other people in ways that he never has before, in ways that are painful and humiliating, and that scares him. To be honest, it scares me too. Let him do it at his own pace. Let him pretend for a while if that's what he needs to do."

"But what if it means he's not ready for−" Marcos makes a gestures that Clarice isn't even sure how to interpret, but she knows what he means.

"There's no being ready for what's happening to him," she says.

"He needs to accept that−"

Clarice raises her hand to stop him, now really angry. "No," she says. "You do. You need to accept that we can't fully relate to what he's going through, that he's going to work through it in his own way."

"But−" Marcos starts, but she turns away. She likes Marcos, he's become a friend over the last few weeks, but right now she can't take anymore of this.

Marcos is afraid−terrified−of seeing his best friend so badly injured, of the road they're starting to make out in front of them, but it's not a reason to take it out on John, to project his insecurities like that. God knows John has enough to deal with as it is.

So does Clarice. Feeling her eyes burn, she gives up on crossing through the room and angrily opens a portal instead. She steps through into a storeroom in one of the unused buildings, the one Reed and his team haven't started to clear yet. Finally alone, for the first time since they left the station in Atlanta, she collapses against a crate.

The lack of sleep is taking its toll on her, but more than that, the tight ball of worry in her stomach doesn't let up. She's done her best to be strong so far, because John needs someone supportive at his side, not someone who will lay their troubles on his shoulders, but she doesn't know how long she can hold on.

She wonders when it will all implode. They're all being pushed past their breaking point. John is hanging on somehow, but Clarice can see him falter when he thinks she's not looking. Marcos went through the last day trying to pretend to himself that John's injury isn't that bad, that he'll be fine in the end. Lorna is still avoiding them all. Reed and Caitlin watch their children destroy themselves, powerless to help. Something has to give.

Maybe that something, right now, is her. Clarice presses a hand to her mouth when the first sob escapes her. She hasn't cried since the day Sonya died, and it's too much to keep in.

She weeps silently for a long while. It's relieving, in a way, like a pressure valve opening. It's doesn't alleviate her worries, it doesn't help the situation, but the tears take some of her tension with them. She just regrets not bringing any tissues, as she wipes her face with her sleeve.

Clarice looks up when the door opens. She didn't bother to lock it, since she didn't come through it, but it doesn't matter since Lorna is the one who steps through. She stops short at the sight of Clarice.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, raising her hands in apology. "I thought this room would be empty."

"Me too," Clarice mutters.

"I'll go."

Lorna isn't looking at her, politely keeping her gaze toward the window to give her some privacy, but Clarice has time to see the way her eyes are shining.

"Wait," she says before Lorna can leave. "You can stay. If we're both going to cry in an empty room and hide from the world, we might as well do it together."

Lorna snorts, but it sounds more like a sob.

"Alright," she says, dropping beside Clarice, scooting back until her back is to another crate. They're not touching, but this is the closest they've been since Charlotte. Maybe even since they met.

"Marcos talked to you?" Clarice asks, guessing at the reason Lorna is so rattled.

"Yeah."

"It went badly?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Lorna mutters. Her voice breaks a little at the end.

Clarice nods. "Okay," she says.

She doesn't know herself what to do with what Lorna's done, what to think, but she doesn't have the same emotional involvement as Marcos and John. If anything, she's glad to know that the man who shot Sonya in cold blood in front of her isn't going to hurt anyone else. As for collateral damage...she hates that innocent people were on that plane, but her own hands aren't exactly clean.

She hasn't thought much until now about how little she actually knows Lorna. Marcos and John talk about her so much that she seemed to be an integral part of the Underground even when she was in jail.

Clarice touches her neck. "Did you fight it when you were in jail?" she asks impulsively. "The collar?"

Lorna nods. "A lot. At first I didn't know what it did, then I thought I could maybe overpower it. There was no metal in it, but I could feel the electricity. I couldn't use it, though."

"I still dream about it," Clarice says. "The shocks. And just the...the feel of the collar, I guess."

"Me too," Lorna admits. "How long were you in the detention center?"

"About three months, I think. There was supposed to be a trial, but−"

"You didn't have anyone to fight for you."

"No. They could have gotten away with putting me in a hole and throwing away the key."

"You have someone now," Lorna says.

"John? Maybe. He needs help more than I do now."

Lorna hangs her head.

"Marcos cares about you, too," she says after a while.

Clarice looks up at her. "I never asked, but...what made you three look for me, the night I escaped the detention center? You don't...didn't do that kind of thing every day, right?"

"Sage was monitoring the police radio, and she alerted us to the search," Lorna says. "I told John that we should get you. I thought, since you were the first person ever to escape a center without outside help, you probably had some power that we could use. John...he'll save anyone he can, that's just who he is, so he was on board right away."

"So, I have you to thank," Clarice says. "I never did thank you, did I? You got caught because of me."

"Not really," Lorna shakes her head. "It was foolish of me to attack that cop. I was so angry, so scared when Marcos got hurt, I just couldn't stop."

Clarice closes her eyes, her memories of that night morphing into those of that never-ending car ride from Charlotte, with John in agony. She shakes her head to get rid of the images.

"Well, thank you for rescuing me, anyway," she says."

"Everything went wrong that night," Lorna says slowly. "But for John… I think part of the reason he agreed to get you was that you escaping the detention center felt like a kind of revenge , for Pulse."

Clarice nods slowly. "When you thought he'd died−" she starts.

"It was awful. Five other people died that night, friends, so we were all devastated. But John more than anyone else."

"I can see how much he loved Pulse," Clarice says.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Lorna frowns.

"No. I just...I don't know how to help him. He's grieving, and now with his injury..."

"I still haven't been to see him," Lorna sighs.

"I noticed."

"I just don't know if...if he wants me to."

"He's waiting for you, Lorna," Clarice says. "He can't go to you, or he'd already have."

Lorna looks at her for a moment, searching her face, then turns away. Clarice gets up, leaving her to her thoughts.


And here we are. I wasn't expecting that conversation between Clarice and Lorna at all, they did that all on their own. But I like the idea of them getting closer. Did you enjoy this chapter?