[very clumsy use of an ableist slur, self-deprecatively]
After overlooking the youth club at the mutant center, Clarice and John get a night to themselves.
John and Clarice are the last to leave the center, as John is responsible for locking it down for the rest of the weekend. They do the rounds together, checking that all of the windows are closed and getting John's bag from his office.
"It's getting late," Clarice says as John fishes his car keys out of his pocket. "You have anything planned tonight?"
"Lorna and Marcos aren't flying back until late tomorrow night, so I have the apartment to myself. I thought we could−" John trails off with a vague gesture.
"John, are you asking me to spend the night?"
"Only if you want to."
"Yes, I want to," Clarice rolls her eyes at his precautions. She loves that he's so intent on making sure she doesn't do anything she doesn't want to, but his carefulness sometimes veers into self-doubt. "Let's take advantage of having a place you're actually comfortable in this time."
"Your apartment is comfortable too."
"But you can't take a shower there, and you can't get up the stairs without exhausting yourself."
John sighs. "When you say it like that−" He sounds defeated, and that's not at all what Clarice wants. She goes back over her phrasing.
"I just made it sound like it's your fault, didn't I?" she apologizes.
John looks up at her. "No. I'm being too sensitive to this. I guess with the last few days, it's just...a constant reminder of what I can't do."
"It's not your fault that my place isn't more accessible."
"But a year ago I wouldn't have needed it to be," John counters.
"And we would never have met because you'd still be overseas," Clarice points out.
"Touché," John relents.
"Let's go then," Clarice smiles.
They make it back to the apartment above the café in minutes, as it's barely more than an easy walking distance−for Clarice, at least. It's more than John can probably walk right now.
He looks tired, but he's walking more easily than this morning. Clarice hopes it means that sitting down all afternoon helped him recover a bit more. She's truly glad he asked her for help, and in accepting she even had a few nice surprises. Among them, the fact that the center is a much nicer, much more open place than she dreamed of.
So many places advertised as mutant-friendly are only accepting of people who don't wear their mutation on their face. Clarice should have trusted that Shatter would know what he was talking about, when he told her about the center two months ago, but she's so used to not being welcome that she wasn't even willing to try. She's been burned too many times.
"I'm glad I came today," she says, catching John's eyes as he invites her into his apartment.
"So am I," John smiles. "You enjoyed yourself?"
"No, it was an absolute nightmare," Clarice deadpans. "That's why I'm glad I came."
John rolls his eyes and lowers himself onto the couch carefully. Clarice follows suit.
"So what do you want to do?" she asks.
"I'm thinking dinner, maybe a movie?"
"Date night, then."
"Yes, but at home," John nods. "Easier to manage for your crippled boyfriend."
Clarice stares. "Uh, John, I don't even know if that was a terrible joke or some twisted self-hatred comment," she says.
"It's was meant to be a joke," John deflates. "I'm not very good at this 'disabled comedian' thing yet. Sorry. It was awful."
"Yeah, it really was. Don't do that again."
"I'll try not to. Now, since we're both hopeless at cooking, should we order take-out?"
"I suppose it's basically our date tradition now, right?"
"So what would you like?" John asks. "Chinese? Pizza? Mexican?"
"You can choose," Clarice says.
John grimaces. "Can't taste all this stuff, remember? There's a Thai place that does a really good curry, but I'm guessing you don't want to repeat the hot pepper incident."
"Uh, I'd rather not, you're right. If I absolutely have to choose...I kinda feel like Chinese tonight."
John digs his phone out of his pocket and stands up. "I'll see if I have their takeout menu somewhere," he says.
They spend a few minutes arguing amicably about what dishes to order before they get back to the couch.
"It will be here in twenty," John says, hanging up and throwing his phone on the coffee table.
"It was nice meeting your students," Clarice says after they've been silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. She likes that they're comfortable enough now that silence is no longer awkward.
"All the kids liked you," John answers. "You did a really good job."
"It wasn't hard, they were adorable. I told you I had plenty of foster siblings."
"And Denise was your foster mother," John says. "I'm trying to picture it."
"Have you met Karl as well?"
"He came by a couple of times, but we've never really spoken."
"I was there for about two years as a teenager," Clarice says. "They were my last foster home, actually."
"But you didn't keep in contact? She seemed really surprised to see you there."
"I was too, to be honest. I guess things have changed, for the better. Back when I was there, they would keep us on the grounds at all time, often inside, so that no one could see us. Denise and Karl thought it was the only way to keep us safe, but it was stifling."
"So they weren't a good family?"
"Oh no, they were!" Clarice exclaims. "The best I ever had. They cared about each of their children, they treated us all equally, and they were trying to be actual parents to kids who were all really lost and battered. But I felt like I was in a prison. Most of the foster parents I had before that didn't really care what I did or didn't do, so I was used to roaming freely. So I ran away."
"How old were you?"
"Around fifteen. The police doesn't really care about mutant kids unless they damage something, so they didn't search for me. I never went back."
"Where did you go?"
"Nowhere, really. I lived in a squat with a bunch of other kids for a while, then I started to look for jobs. No one wants a visible mutant, and especially not an underage one, so it was rough for a while, but I managed."
"I didn't know that," John says, biting his lip. "I mean, I knew you had a rough time growing up, but that's a little worse than I imagined."
"Not everyone got to go to a high-end private school," Clarice says, but she makes it clear with her tone that she's joking. The envy she felt when John talked about it the other day is still there, a little, but there's no need to share that and make him feel bad.
"I was lucky," John says.
"How did you even end up there? Didn't you grow up in Arizona?"
"I did. When I manifested, I had a lot of issues controlling my power. My parents got...scared."
"What do you mean? Did they kick you out?"
"Not exactly. They...well, they had me committed."
"What?" Clarice exclaims in shock. "Why?"
John hesitates. "All we really understood of my mutation was that I was hearing and seeing things that weren't there, and that they were more intense than reality. And with my strength...I was a danger to everyone. I lashed out once and hurt my little brother pretty bad. They thought they were doing the right thing."
Clarice looks at John for a moment, unsure what to say. This story is in some ways more shocking to her than anything he hesitated to tell her about his injuries and his time overseas.
"The hospital was not a nice place," John continues. "I was there for...I'm not even sure. A few months, maybe a year."
"You don't know?"
"Between my powers playing havoc with time and the meds they had me on, I don't remember much. Anyway, that's where the Professor found me."
"The Professor?" Clarice frowns.
"The Institute's headmaster," John explains. "He's a very strong telepath. He got me out and took me to the school. Taught me to control my mutation."
"How old were you?" Clarice asks.
"About fifteen when I got to the school. I stayed there until I enlisted after graduation."
"It looks like we've both had...complicated teenage years."
"A lot of mutants do, I guess," John says. "I'm more surprised to hear about supportive parents than abuse at the center, when the parents are human."
"It shouldn't be our normal," Clarice sighs.
"That's why we fight for it to change."
Clarice looks up into John's eyes, and she's struck by the burning resolution she can see in them. She's only ever felt resigned, about the way mutants are forced to live. She's never believed that she could make a difference. And yet, today at the center, she saw it. It doesn't have to be big, they don't have to take the weight of the world on their shoulders. Making a difference in a single person's life is worth every bit of effort it takes.
Hours later, Clarice wakes up to screaming. She sits up in panic, wondering for a second why she's not in her own bed. When she remembers, and her brain registers the noise, she looks around her.
John in tossing and turning on his side of the bed. His face looks panicked, and before Clarice can think of anything to do, he screams again.
"Gus! No!"
Clarice realizes touching him right now might trigger something, and if he's not aware that she's here, it could get dangerous.
"John?" she calls instead. "John!"
John opens his eyes, panting−and flees. Clarice narrowly avoids getting hit when he pushes her away, but it's like his subconscious is trying not to hurt her, and he manages to avoid touching her completely.
He ends up crawling into a corner. Clarice can tell he's not quite awake, not really, still muttering things under his breath and looking around wildly. She approaches carefully, crouching down to get to his level.
"John?" she asks. "Are you with me?"
He stares at her for a while, immobile except for his still panting breathing.
"John?"
John blinks, seems to finally see her, and closes his eyes.
"Can you speak?" Clarice asks gently, coming even closer. She doesn't want to crowd him, so she's careful to leave her the space to get out if he needs to, but she wants him to know she's here for him.
John opens his mouth and closes it again, still not looking at her. He swallows several times.
"Yeah," he says finally, his voice hoarse and low.
"Can I touch you?"
He shakes his head, almost violently.
"Okay, okay," Clarice raises her hands to show him she's not coming any closer.
"Not...right now," John rasps out, looking ashamed.
"It's okay, it's fine. Was it a nightmare?"
John nods. He bites his lip for a while, and Clarice tries to give him the time he needs to gather his thoughts.
"More like a flashback," he says after a minute. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Clarice reassures him. "I think your body knew I was there."
John slowly, sluggishly looks around him.
"Break anything?"
"Um, no?" Clarice answers, unsure.
"Happened before," John explains, his speech still halted. His hands are shaking, even wrapped around his legs in front of him like a shield.
Clarice notices, for the first time, the mismatched nightstands, and the two different lamps sitting on them. A look at the alarm clock on John's side tells her it's just after three.
"You weren't violent," she says. "Just...panicked."
"Sorry," John murmurs.
"Don't apologize."
"I woke you up. Scared you."
"No, no, it's okay," Clarice says.
John still won't look at her. He takes a deep breath and moves far enough around his nightstand to open the drawer and take out a pill bottle. Clarice tries not to invade his privacy, but he must sense her curiosity, because he hands her the bottle shakily after taking a tablet.
"Anti-anxiety meds?" Clarice asks to check if she understands right.
John nods. He shakes two pills out of another bottle, the one standing on top of the nightstand that Clarice knows is his painkillers.
"Do you want water? I can get you some."
"'m good," John murmurs.
They stay still for a while, until John's breathing calms and his shaking recedes. Clarice doesn't dare moving, in case it could trigger him again or something, but she's been on her knees long enough that her legs are starting to really hurt. She wonders how much pain John is in, right now.
John finally starts moving, laying one hand on the floor and the other on the nightstand to push himself up. Clarice immediately stands up and takes a step back to give him space.
John makes his way back to the bed, using the strength of his arms more than his legs. He sits down and runs a hand through his hair.
"Are you feeling better?" Clarice asks softly.
John nods. He looks her in the eye for the first time since waking her up, and it's obvious that he's even more ashamed than shaken by what just happened. Clarice wants to sit by him and hug him, but she doubts it will be well-received right now. She hesitates, unsure what to do.
John lies back down with a frustrated sigh. "Come on," he says, patting the space beside him. "It's early."
Clarice goes around the bed and settles beside him, carefully not to touch him. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really," John says.
"You were screaming for 'Gus'."
John sighs. "Gus was...someone in my unit. I'll tell you about him, I swear, okay? It's a long story, it's too complicated for tonight, but we can talk in the morning."
"You don't have to."
"No, but...I should. I've been promising to tell you later for too long, and now you've seen−" he trails off.
Clarice slowly, deliberately, turns to face him and puts a hand on his arm. John doesn't immediately remove himself from contact−progress, if a small one.
"We'll talk if you want to," she says. "But right now I want to know if you can go back to sleep or not."
John shakes his head. "I don't think I'll sleep. But you should."
Clarice wants to protest, but she yawns instead.
"It's okay," John says. "Go to sleep. I'll be fine."
He doesn't stop her and doesn't move away when she snuggles closer, so Clarice decides that maybe he's telling the truth. She feels a little guilty that she can't resist the pull of sleep, but it's been a long week and she's really tired.
I hope you liked this chapter! Despite them getting together early on, this is turning into quite a slow-burn story, so I hope you're not expecting a lot of action.
Please tell me what you think!