I'm back with a new chapter! A little more backstory about this AU's Clarice, a lot of pre-Thunderblink...
Enjoy !
Clarice wakes up late on Tuesday and skips breakfast to catch up, only to realize just outside her building that she's forgotten her sunglasses. She searches her bag up and down in a panic, even though she knows she put them on the table last night and that they're most likely still there. A look at her phone tells her she's really going to be late if she runs back up now.
Taking a deep breath, she raises her head, trying to reason with herself. Those glasses have become a shield, hiding her eyes, protecting her from the outside world, but she doesn't really need them. She can handle herself if anything happens.
A couple of passersby look at her in curiosity, but there is no malice in their eyes. Relieved, Clarice holds herself a little straighter. She passes a few more people, some of whom carefully stay far away from her like she's got some contagious disease, but all in all it's pretty harmless.
Until she spots a small group to the side. All men, white, throwing her dirty looks. She doesn't catch much of their dark muttering, but the looks, the 'freak' and 'mutie' they're careful to let her hear, it's enough to send her in a full-blown panic attack, like she hasn't had in weeks.
Running back up to her apartment, breathing unevenly, she barely manages to send a text to Marcos to say she's running late. It probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's the best she can do.
Except inside the café, she hasn't been anywhere in public without hiding her eyes since Athens, only briefly switching from sunglasses to a low hat and keeping her head down in the dead of winter. She's just as tired of the whole "mutant and proud" rhetoric as she is with the mutant-haters, she's lost too much to both. She's not sure when her fear of another Purifier attack developed into full-blown anxiety, but it's become a fight or flight response that she can't control.
When she finally makes it to the café, nearly an hour late with the time it took her to calm herself down and stop seeing white crosses everywhere, her mind is blank of any good excuse for her lateness. It turns out she doesn't need one.
"Clarice, what happened? You're white as a sheet," Marcos says when she reaches the counter, quietly excusing himself to his customer. He signals Lorna to take over and brings Clarice into the back room. He doesn't actually touch her, which Clarice is thankful for.
"What happened to you?" he repeats after making her sit down.
"Nothing, I'm fine," Clarice says, trying to hide her still shaking hands under the table.
"No you're not. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Clarice nods, speechless. Is he really going to let her off the hook with a scrambled text and no proper excuse?
She stands up again, reaching for her name tag on the shelf.
"What are you doing?" Marcos asks.
"Going to work. I'm already late, so−"
"Absolutely not. You're going to sit down and I'm going to bring you some hot chocolate. I don't want you out of that chair until you have some color back in you."
"But I−" Clarice starts, desperately looking around her for an escape.
"Look, if you try to work right now, you're just going to be distracted and mix orders. I'm not just doing this for you. Lorna and I can handle things for a while."
"Fine," Clarice relents. She wants to say thank you, but the words don't make it past her lips.
"However, this place is about to get real busy and I have to get out there. I don't want you to be alone, so I'm going to ask John to come and sit with you. Is that okay?"
"It's not necessary−"
"No, I meant−you're not angry with him or anything, are you? You've been...distant with him."
"No, we're fine, but−"
"It's settled, then. One hot chocolate coming up."
He doesn't let her try to protest again and slips back out of the room.
Clarice sighs. Marcos is probably right that she's in no state to work, but she feels awful about it. This is so ridiculous. Nothing even happened, just her damn brain deciding to panic over a few looks. It definitely doesn't warrant taking a whole morning off work.
There is a knock on the door less than a minute later, and John comes in, carrying a tray with two large cups. "Hi," he smiles at her. Clarice nods back and can't help staring as he comes closer. Not for the first time, his gait is strangely stiff and uneven, but this time he actually uses his free hand to lean on the furniture.
"What's wrong?" she asks, frowning.
"Um?"
"You're limping."
"Oh, that. It's nothing, just an old injury acting up," John says, sitting down across from her. "The real question is, how are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Clarice says, sulkily. Now that the worst of her anxiety is over, she just feels embarrassed.
"Well, here's your hot chocolate," John shrugs. "And I'm under strict orders not to let you out of my sight, so I got myself a coffee. I guess you're stuck with me."
His tone is light, but Clarice can hear his hesitation, like he's not sure how welcome he is. Given how coolly she's treated him for the past few weeks, it's not surprising. She tries to think of something to says that won't sound ungrateful.
"I also wanted to apologize," John beats her to it. "I shouldn't have pushed you on your first day."
"You think I'm still angry over that?"
"I don't know," John says. "Are you?"
"I wasn't even angry when it happened, just annoyed. Sorry I've been...you know. I didn't mean to make you think I blamed you."
John nods. "It's okay. You don't owe me anything. I didn't deserve any better."
"Yes you did," Clarice says. "You were just trying to help. It's just that it's a sore subject, sometimes."
"Finding a job?"
"Looking like me."
"I think you look beautiful," John smiles. Surprised, Clarice smiles back.
"Are you trying to flirt with me or reassure me?" she asks point blank.
"I don't know, which one is working best?"
Clarice gives him a look, and they both burst out laughing. She realizes that was precisely his intent, to distract her.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "I needed that."
"Good. Now drink up before it gets cold."
Clarice obeys and brings her cup to her mouth. The hot chocolate is perfect, just sweet enough and topped with a hint of cinnamon. She will really have to thank Marcos.
"Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?" John when after they've been silent for a while.
Clarice bites her lip. She feels much better, and she could probably just pretend nothing happen and harass Marcos into allowing her to work. But it won't take care of the underlying problem, and this is bound to happen again. Her anxiety has been getting worse, lately.
"It's ridiculous," she says. "I just...I forgot my sunglasses and I panicked. I made a complete fool of myself, didn't I?"
"No you didn't," John says. "This isn't something you can control."
"I wish it was," Clarice mutters.
"How long has this been going on?"
"About a year ago, I got into some trouble with some Purifiers, basically got run out of town," Clarice starts. She hasn't really talked about this to anyone else before. She's not sure what makes her tell John the truth, only that she feels safe doing it, in a way that she hasn't felt safe since running away from her last foster home. She does leave out her short stint with the Brotherhood, but she doesn't hide how scared she's been of running into hate groups again.
"Clarice, this anxiety, it's not something that should be dismissed casually," John says when she's done with her story. "It's your body's way of responding to trauma. It's not your fault, but you can't just sweep it under the rug."
Clarice fights off her first instinct to respond sarcastically, and actually thinks about his words.
"You know a lot about this," she says.
"I know because I've been there. You know I was a Marine?"
Clarice nods. "Shatter told me."
"It can be hard to adjust, coming back from overseas. Sometimes you...need help."
"But see, that's the thing. I can't even imagine what you've seen over there, what you've gone through, but you're still...strong. And I'm here panicking over shadows, and people who didn't actually hurt me."
"Trauma is still trauma, however small. And what happened to you wasn't small, Clarice. Anyone would be scared. Just because they didn't attack you physically doesn't mean they didn't hurt you."
"I know. I know all that, theoretically. But it's different when it happens to you. One day I feel like I'm imagining things, like I have no reason not to be perfectly fine, and then the next I'm having a day like today...it's so irrational, so random sometimes."
"Yeah. Yeah it is," John says simply.
When Marcos finally allows Clarice to start working, after an early lunch, she's decidedly feeling better, though embarrassed at the whole thing. She and John talked for nearly two hours, somehow, both about her anxiety and about inconsequential things like their favorite TV shows−of which they have so many in common that it's laughable. By the end, they've even exchanged their phone numbers, and Clarice is not at all sure what to think of that.
She still feels shaky through the rest of the day, but just raising her head and looking at John, who is back at his table, makes her feel better every time.
Neither Marcos nor Lorna ask questions, but Clarice doesn't miss their thoughtful looks. She doesn't dare ask if they're going to dock her pay for the hours she missed. Marcos and her work alongside each other smoothly by now, and she doesn't want to do anything more that might jeopardize her job.
John waves her goodbye with a large smile when she leaves. It brings warmth to Clarice's stomach, allowing her to affront the outside. She makes it to her apartment without any more difficulty, though she can't help walking too fast and looking around her.
John isn't there at all on Wednesday and Thursday, though Clarice catches both Marcos and Lorna frowning toward his empty table at different moments. It strikes her as odd−even if they're close friends, John is a grown man, his absence doesn't seem to warrant this much concern−but she shrugs it off and forgets about it, struggling to keep up with the load of patrons.
She keeps thinking about him, though, about what he told her. How could a near-complete stranger find the exact words she needed to hear? How did he get her to talk about something she hasn't even told her closest friends? Not that she has so many of those, but still. She could say she recognized a kindred spirit, someone who's gone through hardships like she has, but few mutants haven't. So why John? Why not Marcos, who's quickly becoming a good friend? Shatter, who has so much in common with her?
On Friday, John is already seated at his table when Clarice shows up for work. He looks tired, but he smiles at her when he sees her. They just nod to each other before Clarice heads to the back room to get her gear and name tag, and by the time she comes back, John is absorbed in a conversation with Lorna. Clarice tunes them out to take the first breakfast orders.
"So, are you coming tomorrow?" John asks her when she hands him a cup of coffee and sits down across from him, two hours later on her break.
"What's tomorrow?" Clarice frowns.
"Party at the center."
"Right, I forgot. I thought it was just a small get-together, though."
"It's not really a party, but nothing's ever small when it comes to these people," John says. "We have a bunch of employees and volunteers, and most of the mutant families of the neighborhood usually come."
"You do this often?" Clarice asks.
"Every couple of months. It's a nice way to introduce any new member of the community."
"You're planning on introducing me?"
"Marcos probably is, but he wouldn't do anything without your permission, don't worry. But many of our friends have seen you here and they'd like to get to know you properly."
"So, this is what it's like around here, uh?"
"What do you mean?" John frowns.
"I've lived in a bunch of places, with mutant communities ranging from non-existent to large and established," Clarice explains. "It's always different. You can never tell if visible mutants will be welcome, or any kind of mutants, really, I've seen people reject psionics too. Sometimes they don't get together at all, just avoid each other as much as possible not to get in trouble."
"Yeah, I guess we're a pretty tight group here," John nods.
"Well, I'm glad you have it so good," Clarice says bitterly. "I don't think I'm going to fit in, though. Thanks for the invite, but it's not for me."
She starts rising, cursing that there's still coffee in her cup and it makes leaving now awkward.
"Won't you at least try?" John asks.
"I'm just not cut out for that kind of things."
John grabs her arm before she can go, though he doesn't rise from his seat. Clarice starts. It's the first time he's touched her, and his skin feels strange. Hard, like he's made of stone instead of flesh.
"Please. It doesn't have to be tomorrow, just try to swing by the center someday. I think you're wrong about not fitting in. Let me show you why."
As he lets go of her wrist, Clarice realizes, dimly, that she still doesn't know anything about John's mutation, just like he's never seen her portals. She looks at him, seeing the pleading in his eyes, then down at his hand again, looking like any other hand. Yet different.
"Fine, I'll think about it," she says.
She doesn't look back as she gets around the counter and starts working again. She feels John's gaze on her back, but he doesn't try to speak to her again.
When she gets home that night, though, he's still at the forefront of her mind.
So this AU may be fairly light for now, Clarice still has plenty of issues... Next chapter is from John's point of view, in which you may find out he has plenty of baggage as well!
Also, I'm not a fan of stories where characters run circles around each other not noticing they're attracted, so this is not going to be one of them. Clarice and John's relationship will have plenty of difficulties to get past, but not that kind.
Can you guess what John's backstory is? (yes, this is absolutely a review bait. I love reviews.)