First chapter from John's point of view, and we finally get to see the mutant center and that long-awaited party Clarice didn't want to hear about.
John's backstory will be revealed...slowly. It will take a few chapters. But there are a bunch of clues and reveals in here if you look closely, maybe especially if you know my other stories (and isn't that just the biggest clue).
"John! Where were you on Thursday? We missed you!"
John turns to see Naya and Skyler, the two most enthusiastic students in his teenage class, bound up to him.
"Hey kids," he smiles. "Sorry I wasn't there, I wasn't feeling well. Did it go alright with Lorna?"
"Yes, but it's not the same! She's not patient like you," Naya exclaims.
"I thought you were better now," Skyler says more quietly.
"I am. I still have days I can't easily come here and teach, that's all. Don't worry about me, okay?"
Skyler nods slowly, unconvinced.
"Are your parents around?" John asks.
Naya shakes her head sadly. "They barely let me come. They're still not really okay with...you know."
"They'll come around eventually," John tries to reassure her. "You want me to go talk to them again?"
"I don't know," Naya shrugs. "I don't think it would make a difference."
"Okay. Just come to me if you need anything, as always."
"Thanks. Skyler, want to get something to eat?"
"Sure," Skyler nods.
John watches the two teenagers race each other to the buffet table, sighing. It saddens him, how much mutant kids have to suffer because of who they are. Naya and Skyler both come to all the free classes the center offers and hang out in the activities room after school almost every night, and John knows that's because it's better than going home to, at best, indifferent parents.
Getting up from his seat at the back of the large room they're hosting the party in, John starts doing the rounds, greeting everyone he knows and getting introduced to the few people he's never met. He's well known in the community, both for having taken over most of the center's management in the last few months and for his activism back when he was still in the Marines.
Everyone wants a word with him, and by the time he reaches the buffet table, John is exhausted and aching. It's been an active day, teaching two classes, overlooking the children activities and preparing for tonight, and he's been on his feet for far too long. He piles up a couple of canapes on a paper plate and heads for his office.
"You don't want champagne?" Marcos asks cheerfully when John walks past him, raising his eyebrow at the glass of orange juice he's holding.
"Not tonight," John says.
Marcos sobers up and nods. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just tired. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."
"Alright. Take care."
John nods and walks away, annoyed at how much he's limping. It's been a bad week. Two whole days out of commission, and he's still not back on track.
Once seated at his desk, he takes out a small bottle out of his pocket and pops a couple of pills into his mouth, absently massaging his thigh. He rinses them out with orange juice and eats a canape.
"Johnny?"
John raises his head, hiding the pill bottle back in his pocket almost guiltily. Sonya leans against the open door of his office.
"I thought you were still with Lorna," he frowns.
"I saw you slip away from the party, I thought I'd keep you company," she says with her signature sweet, caring smile.
"I don't need company," John says, kindly but firmly. "I'm fine."
He's getting really tired of his friends' solicitude, the concern that never seems to end. He used to have fun at this kind of get-together, but nowadays the kids are the only ones who don't look at him with sympathy, or worse, pity.
"You always are," Sonya answers. There's too many meanings to this sentence for John's tired brain to extricate. "I wish we could talk more."
"I'm here if you want to talk."
"You know what I mean. All we seem to talk about anymore is how to keep this place afloat."
John sighs. "Sonya, what do you want?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. I'll leave you alone, if that's what you want."
She walks off before John has time to answer−though he has no idea what he could have said. He sighs and stretches in his chair, wincing at the pull in his back.
He hears another set of footsteps coming toward his office and raises his head to see Clarice. She's wearing a short black dress and elegant make-up, looking very different from her professional but plain work attire.
"You came," John smiles. He doesn't know exactly why her simple presence makes him forget his bad mood, but it does.
"Marcos said I'd find you here," Clarice says, looking around. "This is your office?"
"Yes," John says. "Even has my name on the door."
"Why do you always work at the cafe if you have such a nice office?"
"I don't work here full time, and it's empty during workdays, we only open for the kids in the afternoons. So, what made you decide to come?"
"I guess you were convincing," Clarice shrugs.
"Good. Marcos introduce you to people yet?"
"No, I came right in to see you. After all, you're the one who invited me."
"Well, I'm flattered you didn't even stop to get a drink, but we should remedy that quickly," John says, standing up. He hides his wince at his legs' protest and offers Clarice his arm.
"Why, thank you," she plays along.
They walk out of his office together. Clarice is taller than usual, perched on heels instead of her sensible work shoes. She's not wearing perfume, which is honestly a relief. John can smell her shampoo though, grapefruit. It's the same as Lorna's. Something about mutation-colored hair, maybe.
"The woman I just saw leaving, Sonya is it?"
"Yes?"
"Are you two..."
John shakes his head. "What makes you think that?"
"Well, she's the only person I've heard call you Johnny, and you seem pretty close."
"We...we dated for a few months several years ago, but when I was deployed, we decided not to go for the long-distance thing. We've just been friends ever since."
"Oh, okay," Clarice says. "So, why were you hiding back there?"
John laughs, embarrassed. "I'm not big on music and people," he says. It's close enough to the truth.
"But you invited me to a party."
"I didn't actually expect you to show up."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because people expect me to. I work here, remember?"
"Right," Clarice says. "So, are we going to get me that drink or not?"
"Sure. Over there."
John steels himself for the onslaught of noise as they walk into the center's main room. His office isn't sound-proof enough to muffle the noise completely, especially not for him, but at least it was bearable there.
It takes them a while to make it to the buffet table, as nearly everyone they pass waves at John, when they don't stop him to ask who he's with. He good-naturedly introduces Clarice as the Underground's new employee.
"They think we're together," Clarice murmurs after a third person winks at them.
"Let them," John says. "Plenty of rumors go around, but they fade just as fast. Unless you're ashamed," he adds jokingly.
He immediately hates that it's only half a joke. Of course, Clarice doesn't have any real reason to be ashamed of being seen with him, not yet. She doesn't know. But he's caught what she hasn't, the half-pitying, half-admiring looks some people are giving them.
"As long as you're not ashamed of me," Clarice answers, just as humorously, but there's an edge of seriousness in her voice too.
John takes a good look at her−breathtaking in her black dress, her purple hair cascading around her shoulders, her beautiful green eyes...right, she's probably had her fair share of people rejecting her because of her mutation. She even confided in him, how terrified she is of getting mobbed again.
"Never," he answers, fully seriously.
"Good," Clarice smiles.
"Champagne?"
"Sure."
John hands her a flute and grabs a glass of water or himself.
"Thank you. You don't drink?" she asks.
"Not tonight," John says. He doesn't offer anything more, and she doesn't ask.
Hearing Clarice's name somewhere in the crowd, John extends his senses briefly. It's loud enough that he regrets it immediately, as his vision fills with superposing faces and scenes and his ears start ringing.
"You okay?" Clarice picks up on his distress.
John uses her voice as an anchor to come back to himself. "Marcos is looking for you," he says.
Clarice looks around her. "Where?"
"That way," John gestures to the other end of the room, but he makes no move to go there. Even with the strong painkillers he took earlier, he's getting really unstable on his feet. He leans against the table, covering his move by grabbing a few canapes.
"Are you telepathic or something?" Clarice asks.
"No. Just have a really good hearing."
"That's your mutation?"
John nods. "Enhanced senses. And super strength." It's the easiest way to describe it, though not the whole truth. "What about you?"
"It's not a great place to show you, but I can make portals," Clarice answers.
"Like...teleporting?"
"Yes." She raises her hands and a spot of purple light forms between them. John stares, fascinated.
"That's about all I can make safely here," she says. "Too many people."
"I'd love to see it in full sometime," John says.
Clarice smiles at him widely. Damn she's beautiful.
"Incoming," John says when he hears Marcos's voice approach. They're quickly surrounded by most of the center's volunteer team, loudly greeting them and moving into their space. John smiles at them despite how much he wants−needs−to get away and off his feet, but Clarice suddenly looks like she wants to dive under the buffet table. It seems she really is not the social type.
"Clarice," Marcos says, "this is Sage, our computer expert, Pedro, who supervises the children's after-school activities, and Sonya, our event planner. You've already met Shatter. Guys, I think you've all seen Clarice at the café."
"Hi," Clarice mutters, not looking at anyone. Her usual sass and the ease with which she carries herself at the Underground are completely gone. She takes a large drink of her champagne, as if to give herself courage. John looks around, but he can't see any way to escape with her.
"Clarice, I wanted to ask you about something," Shatter says, taking pity on her. "I've got a couple of people here who want to come volunteer at the shelter and they'd like to know what it's like, would you mind talking to them?"
Clarice looks at him like a lifeline. "I can do that," she nods.
She follows Shatter away from the group, only sparing a sorry look toward John for abandoning him so fast. He smiles back at her with a nod.
"She's a bit shy, isn't she?" Sonya remarks. "I hope we didn't scare her away."
John bites back the sharp comment that comes to his mind, because it wouldn't be fair. He's known Sonya long enough to know that she means well. She just doesn't realize how overwhelming the bunch of them can be to someone who is not used to large groups.
"I think this was just a bit much," he says instead. "It will be fine once she gets to know you."
If she ever shows her face here again, John thinks. It doesn't seem very likely.
Out of curiosity, he extends his reach again to find Clarice, who is now in the middle of the room talking to two young women who look barely out of their teens. John thinks they're in Lorna's class, but he can't come up with their names. Clarice seems talkative again, though not quite at ease, tenseness never leaving her posture.
John stumbles slightly as he lets go of his focus and his legs start to give out under him. He feels Lorna slip her arm around his waist, stabilizing him.
"Hey," she says in his ear. "You want to go over there? There are chairs."
John looks around at his friends, who have started chatting among themselves again, not paying attention to him. He nods.
"Yeah, that would be nice."
Lorna leads him to a corner of the room where someone has installed a few chairs and a playing mat for the youngest children. There are a few young parents already around, but they're absorbed in watching their kids play. John gratefully sits down.
Lorna sits backward on a chair in front of him.
"So, what's with Clarice?" she asks.
John shrugs. "Dunno. I guess she's just not great with crowds."
"She's fine at the café."
"Maybe it's different. She didn't want to come tonight," John says.
"So what, you forced her?"
"No. I don't know why she changed her mind."
Lorna smirks. "She likes you," she says.
"Does she?" John raises his eyebrows.
"Anyone could see that. You like her too?"
John shrugs.
"You like her too," Lorna snorts. "I thought so. I told Marcos, but he wouldn't hear it."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright?" John groans. "I don't know if she wants anything more. I don't know if I want anything more."
Lorna sobers up immediately, before John even realizes how much pain he's put in that statement.
"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean−"
"I know you didn't. I'm just not sure that I'm ready to−"
John gestures vaguely, unsure what he's trying to say exactly. Even whatever he feels for Clarice now, what he hasn't put into words yet, feels like betrayal.
"John, you're allowed to move on," Lorna says. "I'm sure that's what he'd want for you."
John hangs his head, swallowing around the sudden knot in his throat.
"It feels like it's too early," he says.
Lorna squeezes his hand tightly. "It's not about how much time has passed," she says.
"I've tried to get on with my life," John says. "But sometimes… I mean, look at me. I'm still a mess."
"You're getting better."
"My legs are getting better. The rest...some days it hurts as much as that first day in the hospital."
"Maybe you need someone like Clarice to move forward," Lorna says gently. "Not−not to forget him, but to find something new."
"It doesn't seem fair, though, to impose that on her. She doesn't deserve this mess."
Lorna shakes her head in dismay. "John, if she wants to go forward with this, with you, it will be her decision. It's not like you're forcing her into this. And you are not a burden. On anyone." She insists heavily on the last sentence. John meets her eyes.
"Says the one whose guest room I've been living in for months, for free," he says doubtfully. "I've been nothing but a burden since I came back, Lorna."
"No," Lorna affirms. "You're my friend, and you needed help. And now that you're getting back on your feet, you're going to help me grow and deliver this little one," she adds, putting a hand on her belly.
Despite his discouragement, John can't help but smile at that.
"I promise I will," he murmurs.
So that ending turns out more angst-filled than I meant it to be, but sometimes the characters do their own thing.
As always, thank you for reading, and please don't hesitate to drop in a review, I love reviews!
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