A deep sigh

isn't deep enough

to exhale the ache that

I feel inside of me

this morning.

-Faraway

It had been over a week since the disaster with her, the triplets, and John and Clarice found herself wandering around their new headquarters for the third night in a row in an effort to seek him out. She should've known better, though, that if John didn't want her seeing him, he would have no problem with avoiding her.

She sighed, grabbing a water bottle from the stack and flopping back onto the couch. Clarice smiled as Zingo jumped up and laid her head in her lap, the soft fur between her fingers not as much of a distraction as she would've hoped…

The dog's ears perked up when Lauren walked in seconds later.

"Hey." Clarice was glad her voice had lost its hoarseness, "Can't sleep?"

She shrugged, scooting over and laying her cheek on her shoulder.

Her arm wrapped around the girl, glad that someone was talking to her.

While she understood why people would steer clear of John, Clarice wasn't sure what she had done to deserve their avoidance. Was it because of how close she was to John? Were they afraid to upset her? Clarice almost laughed at the thought. Nothing anyone did or said could upset her at this point.

Why had she told him she loved him? There couldn't have possibly been a worse time to say it, with his hand slowly crushing her throat and the triplets in his mind. She'd no doubt made the whole thing worse for him. No wonder he'd been avoiding her…

"I'm guessing you haven't talked to him?"

Clarice shook her head, "I don't what I expected honestly. I wouldn't either."

Lauren's expression became confused.

Clarice sighed, "I told him I loved him."

Her face brightened and for a moment, there was almost a smile, but the realization of why that was probably a bad thing quickly dimmed it. Brown eyes glanced at the fading bruises with a frown, "I'm sorry."

She managed a small smile, "Thanks, kid."

"Hey!"

The two looked up to see Marcos jog into the room, concern and worry clear in his dark eyes. He glanced at the two of them, "Have either of you seen John? I need to talk with him about something important."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's been avoiding me."

He sighed, "Lauren?"

"Last I saw him was about two hours ago…said he was going into town."

"¡Maldita sea! Did he say why?"

Lauren shook her head, "That's all he told me."

"That idiot!" Marcos rubbed at his temple, "Clarice, could you…"

She nodded, gently nudging Zingo off her as she got to her feet. Thankfully, she'd been into town a couple of times during supply runs so opening a portal there wouldn't be such a pain. "Where?"

"You'll have to…cover up first."

Her lips curled, she hated doing that, "Why can't I just send you though?"

"He hasn't been listening to me…and I don't want to cause a scene. Can you just…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation slipping into his voice, "Can you just go get him and bring him back?"

Cause a scene? "Where the hell is he?"

His eyes flicked over Lauren, then back to her, "I would try the bar."

Both were shocked by that admittance, sharing a concerned look. Clarice tucked a purple strand behind a pointed ear, suddenly feeling even guiltier about what she'd said to him. She'd always known him as the level-headed leader of the Mutant Underground, calm and stoic in the face of so much chaos. But he'd taken so many blows in the last few months and she knew just how quickly everything could come crashing down… "What do I say?"

"Tell him James called."

Clarice frowned.

"Trust me, he'll know who I'm talking about."

She nodded, leaving the common area and walking over to where the medical supplies were and dug out an old make-up case and slid it open. She applied the tattoo cover-up to the marks over her right eye and the bruising, put normal green contacts in, and made sure her hair covered her ears before she opened a portal into a dim alleyway and stepped through.

The odd combination of wet asphalt and oil hit her nose, the mist from the rain hours earlier still hanging in the air as she smoothed down her hair and walked around the corner and pulled open the wooden door.

Clarice was immediately hit with the overwhelming stench of beer and cigarettes smoke, nose crinkling in disgust and a headache already starting to form behind her eyes. If it was this bad for her, she couldn't imagine what it was like for John. Enhanced senses were both a blessing and curse, as he said…

She pushed her way through the throngs of drunks, having to remove at least two wandering hands before she finally reaching the bar. Clarice slid into an empty stool, waving down the bartender and trying to spot John in the poorly lit space. She was probably better off asking than trying to venture back into that crowd…

A large tatted man, as tall and broad as John, wiped the counter off before grabbing a glass and setting it down in front of her. He slung the rag over his shoulder, "Why can I do you for, darlin'?"

On any other night, she would've raised an eyebrow at the pet name, but she had other things to worry about like a drunk nearly indestructible, mutant with super strength. She just hoped everyone was too inhibited to notice. "I'm actually looking for someone?"

"Aren't we all?"

Clarice managed a smile, "I'm looking for my boyfriend…" she figured that would be a better reason to show up and drag a large drunk man off without suspicion, "he and I had this big argument and he's been avoiding me. His friend said he'd be here…"

"Wouldn't happen to be a military man, would he?"

For a split second, she feared he hadn't covered his own distinctive tattoos. The worry went away quickly though as John wouldn't be that stupid (any more stupid than he was to get drunk at a bar). Hell, the man practically radiated "soldier" as soon as you saw him…"Yeah. He's a little taller than you…dark skin…black hair…"

He motioned over her shoulder, "Over in the corner booth."

She turned, seeing the familiar head bowed over a drink, "Thanks."

Two tumblers with three fingers of amber liquid were put in front of her and he waved off her objections, sliding them over. "These are for him…told me to have them ready for you when you got here…"

She picked up the glasses and weaved through the people, sliding in the empty seat across from him and placed the drink on the table. Clarice frowned at the shards of glass littering the surface, confirmation that the alcohol had at least dulled the conscious effort he usually took when using his strength or he was angry. She hadn't seen him like this before… "John?"

He grabbed the tumbler and emptied it, the glass shattering as he tried to set it back on the table. John mumbled something inaudible, but did nothing more when he finally lifted his head and met her gaze.

"John…"

Distant brown eyes stared back at her, reminding Clarice somewhat of the moments before he tracked someone…that is, if she could ignore the flushed cheeks and the glaze that dulled the piercing and intense focus he always had whenever he looked at her.

"Are you drunk?

He chuckled, a hollow sound, "An astute observation."

Clarice took a drink, wincing as straight whiskey burned down her throat. She frowned into the glass, wondering just how many of these he'd had to have to get this…inhibited. She almost would've preferred him angry...

He cocked his head, one corner of his mouth lifting, "I saw you coming…"

She raised a brow, "Isn't that your thing?"

John picked up a small piece of glass between his index finger and thumb, pressing them together and watching as it fell like dust to the worn wood. His expression darkened, eyes as sharp and broken as the glass glittering on the tabletop, "That's how close I was to killing you…" he worked his jaw, "just a pinch."

She glanced around, "This isn't the place for this conversation, John."

He frowned, "I didn't want to hurt you."

Clarice stood, sliding up next to him and curled her hand over his forearm. She waited until dark eyes peered through a curtain of hair, recalling the conversation that had on the dirt road minutes before reaching her old foster home. He'd become the wounded animal he'd spoken of…Where did he feel safe? "Never in a million years would I ever think you would."

Glass crunched in his fist, "But I did it anyway."

"They made you do it, John…we both know that."

His shoulders tensed.

She leaned into him, "John?"

"Hey, darlin'?"

She squeezed John's arm, turning to the bartender with what she hoped was a mildly perturbed expression. Clarice didn't want the man or John to do something stupid like a break a table or call Sentinel Services, "Yes, uh…?"

"Miles."

"Well Miles, we both good here so-"

He lowered his voice, "I know you're both mutants."

Clarice blinked, John growling something under his breath, "How-?"

Spikes shot out of the Miles' hand and into the wood, reminding Clarice of a porcupine and immediately changing the course of the conversation. She watched as they slid back into his skin, the intent of all the tattoos clear…

"Please. I don't want anything to happen to you two, alright?"

Clarice nodded, tugging on John's arm, "Let's go."

Miles nodded, returning to the bar like the talk had never happened.

Clarice pulled on John's wrist, avoiding the glass on his fingers tips. She figured him imbedding it in her skin would be counterproductive to convincing him that she had no reason to be afraid of him hurting her.

Surprising, he didn't put up much of an argument as she guided them to the bar nor when she reached into his leather jacket's pocket that most likely had some cash from their stash at the station. He kept a protective arm wrapped around her the entire time, eyes regaining some of their intensity as he stared down anyone who came near her.

Normally Clarice might snapped back with an "I can protect myself you know", once again not having the energy nor the heart to point it out to him right now. She was glad, though, that no one tried to test John at this point. "How much for the whiskey…and the glasses?"

Miles just shook his head, "On the house."

She raised a brow, "Why?"

"You need that money for more important things, I assume?"

Clarice managed a smile, "Thank you, Miles."

He nodded, "Go on, then."

She lead them through the crowd, which parted for them rather easily, and outside into the parking lot. Clarice nearly fell as he staggered, his weight and invulnerable skin sending her into the side of the building hard (breaking a piece of wooden siding in the process).

John held himself up as she pulled open a portal that lead straight to his room, knowing that the stubborn idiot wouldn't want anyone seeing him as anything less than their calm and stoic leader.

She grabbed onto a bicep, steering him to the foot of his bed and sitting him on the edge of the mattress. Clarice almost smiled as he flopped backward, the distance in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling dimming her amusement.

She went to portal to the bathroom when a hand gently curled over her shoulder, startling her and causing the beginnings of the portal to spark and sputter out in her palms. Clarice turned, ending up chest to chest with him. She looked up into his eyes, seeing something heartbreakingly familiar. A brokenness that turned those dark brown depths into storms and his expression to stone. "John?"

"Don't leave…please."

She managed a smile, "I'm just going to take out these contacts and change into my pajamas, alright? I'll be right back."

He let go.

Clarice quickly portaled to the bathroom and removed both the contacts and cover-up, creating another to change into sweats and a ratty black tank top and finally returning to his room where she found him shirtless, lying face-down on the bed and passed out.

She pulled the sheets over him as much as she could, pulling the small blanket folded over the back of the couch and a pillow from the bed and curling up on the couch, falling asleep to the sound of his soft snoring.

The next part will be up tomorrow!