I'm back with a chapter a bit longer than usual! Posting has been somewhat erratic the last few weeks, but I should be able to stick to a schedule now that I have a comfortable advance on this story (at least for a while).

This picks up right after the picnic. I hope you enjoy it.

When they get back to the apartment after the picnic, it's late afternoon. Lorna has already decided that Clarice is staying for dinner−and Clarice didn't protest−so the four of them go up together. John doesn't bother to walk and uses his wheelchair, since it's easier than carrying it upstairs and he hasn't put his braces back on after they went swimming in the lake.

"This was a really good day," Clarice says, as she and John help Lorna put away the contents of the picnic bag.

"It's nice out there, isn't it?" Lorna nods.

"Very. I didn't even know a place this peaceful existed so close to the city."

"That's what we thought when we found it, too," John says, maneuvering his chair around Clarice. The kitchen is too small for the three of them. "Pulse took us out there. He was born and raised in Atlanta, so he knew the city like the back of his hand."

The location is full of bittersweet memories for John, now. But they felt more sweet than bitter, today. Maybe he is slowly moving on.

"I'll have dinner ready in about an hour," Lorna says. "Now you two lovebirds get out of my kitchen."

"Fine, fine," John smiles, backing his chair out of the room. "You want to chill out a bit?" he asks Clarice.

"Sure," Clarice smiles.

Going into John's bedroom is the only way to get some privacy, but they feel like teenagers when doing so, sitting side by side on John's bed. At least no one asks them to leave the door open. They end up cuddling together, enjoying the physical proximity.

John feels actually good, rather than just not-so-bad, for the first time in weeks. It probably has to do with how careful he's been to avoid pushing his body and the swim he took earlier, but the pain in his back is barely noticeable, and his legs feel tired in a good way, not like they do most mornings after PT. He closes his eyes and takes the time to enjoy the moment. It really has been a good day.

Opening his eyes again, he catches Clarice looking at his wheelchair, now sitting by the desk.

"You have questions about the chair," he says. "Ask them."

Clarice hesitates. "It looks different from the ones you see on TV."

"Mostly because TV is awful at portraying disabled people," John answers with a shrugs. "This is an active chair, it's meant to be self-propelled. I'm guessing you're thinking about those awful hospital chairs with armrests?"

"Probably," Clarice admits. "I don't know."

"You can't really use those independently. I had one for the first few weeks before I could really start PT, it was awful."

John's current chair is custom-made and lightweight, though still sturdy enough to hold his weight. The hated hospital chair is folded up in his closet, just in case, but he hasn't touched it since the day he got this one.

Clarice bites her lip.

"What is it?" John asks her.

"It's just, seeing you using it−" Clarice hangs her head, almost looking ashamed.

"You were bothered," John understands.

Clarice looks up at him again. "Yeah. But I don't even understand why, not really."

"It's really just a tool," John says. "Not different from the cane or the braces. You weren't as bothered by those."

"No, but−" Clarice hesitates. "This is really hard to put into words."

"The wheelchair is the symbol of disability," John guesses. "But I am disabled."

"I know. I'm sorry, I know this isn't right, but−"

John sighs. "You're entitled to your feelings, Clarice, and I do understand. Sometimes it's hard to wrap your head around things."

"The chair...it felt like...it made you somehow more disabled or something."

"Yeah. You associate it with something you've been taught to think of as bad. Being disabled."

Clarice nods. "Lorna told me once that the wheelchair was some kind of...freedom for you. I think I understand it in theory, but my brain is struggling to catch up."

"It is freedom," John approves. "Mobility, not limitations. I still hate the chair sometimes for what it represents, for the way that people look at it, but that's internalized ableism. My physical therapist is the one who go me to look at the chair as a mean to independence. Most people, even Marcos and Lorna sometimes, they try to encourage me to use it as little as possible now that I can walk, because walking is more...well, normal. But the reality is that I'm not going to walk better if I use the chair less. I'm going to be in pain and overdo it and probably set myself back."

Clarice seems to turn that over in her head several times, still staring at the chair.

"What you mean is even if you appear more...stereotypicallydisabled when you're using the chair, you can actually do more when you bring it?"

"Exactly. I probably couldn't have walked with you to the lake, or if I did I'd be a mess right now. It's not better to walk, not for me."

"I...have to admit I didn't think of it that way," Clarice says slowly. She lights up, "Wow, why didn't I think of it that way? It makes so much sense."

"Because society told you that wheelchair equals bad health?" John offers.

"Yeah, I guess. God, ableism runs really deep, doesn't it?"

"So does racism, and bigotry and all of the others," John shrugs. "You just don't see it as much when it doesn't touch you."

"I know the reason I'm struggling to see it the way you do is because I still have so many false ideas about this. Like it took me years to start thinking about all the racist and anti-mutant garbage I was told and understand how poison it was. And I still think those thoughts way too often."

"I get it," John says. "I have those too. I don't blame you, I'm far from perfect in this area. I've been disabled less than a year and I'm still untangling all this stuff. Actually, you'll find Lorna is way more knowledgeable about this than me. She's had a lot longer to think about it."

"Disability?"

"Yes. And mental illness, neurodiversity, all of that. She's quite passionate about it. Her current thing is mutations and disabilities. You know how many mutants are impaired by their mutations? We call them abilities, but it's really a misnomer."

Clarice thinks about that for a moment. "I can see what you mean," she says. "I think. Some mutations are−"

"Too far removed from the accepted norm," John finishes when she hesitates. "Making things inaccessible. Society is not made for mutants, so if we're too different, we get put aside. Not so far from other disabilities."

"You include yourself in that?" Clarice asks curiously.

"I didn't use to think that way, but now...yeah, I suppose I do. Having enhanced senses, in a society of loud music and jackhammers and neon lights and perfume is a disability. The first couple of years after I manifested, I just couldn't live normally, and I still get...headaches and other stuff."

"And me?"

"Only you can say," John answers, slipping an arm around her back. "But even when our mutations don't manifest that way, we tend to pick up plenty of trauma and mental health issues along the way, so the difference isn't always easy to make."

Clarice nods. "Yeah, I guess. It's just...I mean, for me this is a new way to think about disability entirely. Before meeting you, it seemed like all disabled people were full time wheelchair users, or fully blind or something. I knew that wasn't really true, but it seemed so...remote, in a way. Something I didn't think about much."

"Something that happens to other people," John states.

"Well, yeah."

"I know," John laughs. "I got to find out the hard way that it's not true."

"Maybe that's why we're so...scared of disability, though? Because it can happen to anyone?"

John shrugs. "I suppose there's some of that, yes. But people are also scared of mutants, and people of color, and...basically everything that doesn't fit into their narrow notion of the norm."

"Right," Clarice shakes her head. "So, disabled, Apache, mutant, and I'm guessing bi?" she asks, counting on her fingers. John nods. "You are so screwed, Thunderbird."

John raises his eyebrows. "I could say the same about you, Blink."

She smiles widely, and John marvels, not for the first time, at her ability to take the negative things in her life and laugh about them, without ever actually making light of them. She's a rare pearl.

"So, if you want to be quick as a blink, does that mean you're ready to start training?" he asks. It's been a few days since they agreed on it, and neither of them has brought up the subject again, even though John spent the night at Clarice's twice. He didn't manage to sleep much, but it was still better than he'd hoped.

"I promised, didn't I?" Clarice says. "When are you thinking?"

"How about Tuesday, at the center? The youth club starts at four-thirty, so if we go just after your shift we'd have about an hour and a half."

Clarice thinks about it for a moment.

"Okay, it sounds good for a start," she says. She doesn't look excited exactly, but determined. John feels a surge of love for her that nearly make tears come to his eyes. He leans over to kiss her.

"The best way to get better and faster at using your ability is just bare bone practice," John says two days later, standing across from Clarice in his classroom at the mutant center.

"Is that how you trained?" Clarice asks. John's abs stand out nicely in the form-fitting workout tee-shirt he's wearing, and she can't help staring a little, although she doesn't get why he changed if he's just here to watch her make portals.

"Our powers work differently," John answers. "When I had to train, it was mostly to...tone it down. You need to hone it."

"Does that mean you can't help me?"

"No. I have experience training other people."

"Your students at the center?" Clarice asks.

"Yes, a lot of them come in with very little control over their powers. The teenagers are actually easier to teach than the adults, because they haven't had time to form bad habits."

"Like what?"

John nods to the scorch mark on the floor of the classroom.

"Like only using their abilities for one specific thing and ignoring their range," he answers. "Or relying on emotions to get their power working. Or trying to repress it entirely."

"Does that happen a lot? I don't make portals that often, but without it I'd feel like a part of me is missing."

"Sometimes they don't have a choice, they have powers that are impossible to control. And too many people are in a situation where anyone finding out they're mutants would be dangerous."

Clarice nods sadly. "I've never been able to hide, but I get why you'd want to."

"The problem is that when you restrain yourself too much, at some point it explodes. Depending on your power, it can kill you. Or everyone around you."

"You know a lot about this."

"I don't just train the kids at the center. The Marines didn't really have a set program for mutants, so they left me in charge of training my unit. And before I enlisted, I was a TA at the mutant school for a year."

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble with me, right?" Clarice says with an angelic smile.

John smirks. "We'll see."

"So, where do we start?"

"Let's see," John thinks for a moment. "Your ability is to teleport, right? Go from one point to the other."

Clarice frowns. "Not exactly. I make portals, it's not really the same as just teleporting myself."

"What do you think the difference is?" John asks curiously.

"It's like...a teleporter leaves one place to go to another, right? But my power is like a door. I open a door between here and there. I bring those places together."

"What you're saying is that you can teleport yourself, but it's not what your power really is about?"

"I...guess? I've never really thought of it like that before, but it's like I bring that other place to me, instead of going somewhere. While the portal is open, I mean. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," John nods. "I was going to try having you focus on somewhere you want to go, but maybe it should be something you want to reach instead."

"Okay," Clarice says doubtfully. "Focus on something I want to reach. Um. How do I do that? Meditation? Hot yoga?"

John rolls his eyes. "You and me, hot yoga, together? I could get behind that idea," he says, just as flippantly. "But it's not going to help you with your power."

"So what?"

John thinks for a moment. Clarice takes the opportunity to feast her eyes again without it being glaringly obvious. He's wearing shorts, for the first time since she met him, his braces in full view around his calves. She wonders if it reflects on how much he trusts her or if it's just because it's getting really hot outside.

"What food do you like most?" John asks suddenly. "Pastries, something sweet. Or junk food."

"Uh..." Clarice hesitates, taken aback. "A...warm jelly donut?"

"Okay," John laughs. "Then let's go get one."

"Now? Why?"

"You'll see."

Clarice follows, amused and confused, as John actually drives her to the bakery to get a single jelly donut and back, all the while refusing to explain. Once back inside the center, he leads her to his classroom and sets the donut on a table in the corner.

"Stand here," he tells Clarice, indicating the opposite corner.

"Okay," Clarice obeys doubtfully. "Will you explain now?"

John smirks at her confusion. "Alright. I'm guessing so far you've been using portals mostly in emergencies."

"Yes. Getting out of bad situations. That's my thing."

"Right. This means that for now, your power is conditioned to manifest more easily when you feel like you're in danger. It's useful, but it's not reliable. Now I've seen you make a portal in a situation where there was no emergency, and it was slow, but it worked. You can also make smaller portals on command, right?"

"Yes. It's just that I can't hold them for very long, or stretch them without focusing really hard."

"What we need to do, is associate using your power with something positive."

"The donut?" Clarice raises her eyebrows.

"Yes. I've chosen something small and innocuous on purpose, so that you can work on extending it to other positive things later."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my first thought was to tell you to focus on something or someone that you really love. But after you told me that your power is literally to reach for that thing you want, I thought you might just get stuck only being able to reach something really big. The donut might be harder to use at first, but it'll prepare you better."

"I have no idea if what you just said makes any sense, but I think I see what you mean," Clarice laughs.

"Good. Now stop laughing at me and get to work."

"And how do I do that?"

John indicates the donut, sitting on the table thirty feet away. "Reach for it."

Forty-five minutes later, Clarice is exhausted. John has made her train relentlessly, opening larger and larger portals. They've focused on speed rather than precision, since that's what she needs most for now. She mostly agreed to train to placate John about their sleeping conditions, after all. He wants her to be able to get out in a hurry if it's needed, and she'll train until she gets there if it can make him feel safer.

"It's almost time for the youth club, so we need to wrap this up," John says. "You can use the changing rooms if you want."

"Thanks," Clarice nods, grateful that she thought to bring a change of clothes in her bag. She's as sweaty and out of breath as after a long run. She's never used her ability this intensely before, and never knew it could make her feel this way.

"Here's your donut," John smirks when she comes back out of the changing rooms, showered and feeling much better. He hands her the donut on a plate, slightly reheated so that it's just warm enough.

She only used it the first few times to make the portals. Once she got the feeling she needed down, the emotion necessary to build a portal on command, they put it aside. But Clarice eyed it more and more as the session wore on and she expanded enough energy to feel hungry.

"Thanks," Clarice laughs. They both sit down on one of the couches of the staff room while she eats the donut. "Want a bite?"

"Sure. But it's yours. You've earned it."

Clarice brings the donut up to John's face so he can bite it. "I like to share," she says. "God, this is so good. There was a bakery that made them beside the street I usually slept in when I ran away from the system. I'd look at them for hours in the window, just trying to imagine what they might taste like."

"Is it as good as you imagined?" John asks.

"No. I romanticized it so much that the one time I got enough money to buy one, I was disappointed. But I learned to like them again when I finally found a job and didn't have to drool in front of the window anymore."

"So that's the story," John smiles. "I wondered if there was something more to it. You reached for it surprisingly easily."

"Really? It still takes me really long to build a proper portal," Clarice says around the last bite. She's trying to make it last as long as she can.

"You aren't going to get perfect at it in one day," John shrugs. "With practice−"

"You just love that word, don't you?"

John looks at her with his face caught somewhere between a smile and a thoughtful look.

"Maybe I laid that on a little strongly," he says. "But it's true."

"That practice makes perfect?"

"That you can accomplish a lot by practicing. Not everything, but a lot."

"I get it," Clarice says. "It's not always fun to hear, but I get it."

"I know. I know it's hard to believe at first that you can get there, but you can. Eight months ago I couldn't stand up under my own power. Look at me now."

"But isn't that more like healing? I mean−"

"Technically, my spine was healed within a month," John answers. "The rest was...making my body relearn how to move, within its new...limitations. That's what takes time, and practice. Just like you need to make your body learn how to make portals faster."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Clarice admits.

For some reason, this thought gives her a renewed determination to give this training her best. She's still on the fence about whether she really wants it, she's mostly doing it for John, but imagining him persevering through these months of relearning how to walk makes her want to make him proud. He deserves a willing, hard-working student.

She can be that for him.

What did you think of Clarice's training? It's how Thunderblink first got close on the show, and I enjoyed picking tidbits of that to integrate here. I'm not completely losing sight of canon!