Chapter One-Hundred and Two

John watched as Thomas showed him a sign as they walked back to the barber shop, trying to repeat the motion.

Thomas chuckled as he saw John's confusion, guiding his hands to the correct symbol. "That's how you say 'please.'"

John nodded, rubbing his hand over his heart again as he tried to get used to the new communication method.

Thomas smiled, showing John the sign for 'dad.' "And this is 'dad.'" He touched his thumb to his forehead again, watching John as he copied the motion. "That's perfect!"

John bit his lip, trying to hide his prideful smile. He made the sign for thank you, following it with the new sign he'd learned. "Thank you, Dad."

Thomas opened the door to the barber's, letting John walk inside. He noticed that Claire looked up at John, seeing the shadow of fear pass over her before she turned back to her magazine.

John bowed his head at the look of fear in Claire's eyes, ashamed of what he'd done. He looked at his friends, smirking at their short hair.

"Not a Goddamn word." Dominic threatened, running a hand over the short length of his hair. "I feel naked."

Jim laughed, tugging on his own haircut. "At least we don't look like cavemen anymore."

Sam agreed, trying to tug his hair until it was long enough to cover the tattoo. "Yeah. But why couldn't Dom give me a good tattoo?" He touched the bumpy skin where the ink had stained his flesh. "I mean, I thought I was the drunk one when I let him do this shit. But I guess he was high on some shit."

Dominic glared at him, remembering how Sam had jumped every time the tattoo gun had poked him. "Maybe if you weren't such a wuss, it would have turned out better." He pulled his sleeve up, showing the dark lines on his bicep of an eagle. "Hell, I did this one on myself."

Cody barked a laugh. "Dude, that looks like shit too."

Jan rolled her eyes, trying to tally up what the boy's owed to the swear jar. "That's fifty cents for Samson, fifty cents for Dominic Alejandro, and twenty-five cents for Cody Gregory."

The boys groaned, wishing the swear jar didn't exist and they could say whatever they wanted like they could in their old houses. Of course, that was the only good thing about their old houses.

John grinned as he knelt down to give Amelia a hug, giving her an eskimo kiss by rubbing his nose against hers.

She giggled, placing her hands on his cheeks as he tried to laugh. "You're weird."

John cocked a brow, like he was asking the question of why.

She pushed her fingers through his beard, noticing how the facial hair curled but his regular hair was straight. "Why is your beard curly?"

John shrugged, smiling as she pulled on the short hair.

The barber finished up Tyler's haircut, taking his cape off and turning to the family to see the work he'd done. "You all like it?" He asked, smiling as the boy's all bobbed their heads in a yes. "Well, your parents aren't going to like how much this will cost."

Clarissa pulled out her checkbook, happy that the families had agreed to spit the bill between them by paying for the kids that had adopted them as their parents. "How much will it be for Johnathan and Dominic?" She asked, writing the barbershop's name on the check.

"Forty dollars."

Clarissa nodded, happy that it wasn't too much. "Here you go." She tore the check from the book, handing it to the man. She stood as John tried to pick Amelia up again. "Oh no, not yet mister. Put her down." She chuckled at John's glare, the rich chocolate color in his eyes betraying his anger as he looked at her with the color that always showed he loved someone. "Don't try that. I know that you're not angry at me. If you were, those eyes would be a lot darker."

Claire rolled her eyes, wishing that hers would change color so that she didn't always have to voice her emotions. She loved that John's eyes could tell everyone what he was feeling, it made this time without his voice easier to bear, but she had a mild dislike of it since she always had to tell him what she felt. She didn't know if he could remember a lot of their midnight conversations, since he usually fell asleep first. That was the first thing she'd noticed since he'd been drugged with the meth. His body seemed to wear out faster, and when he hit that wall of complete exhaustion, there was nothing that could bring him back. He would lay his head anywhere available, and simply pass out for anywhere from ten minutes to nine or ten hours.

John rubbed his cheek, wishing he could speak to Claire instead of writing everything. He knew that she missed his voice, missed being able to actually speak a two-sided conversation with him. He'd noticed that the whole family had been on edge lately since he'd been forced into silence. He stood to his full height, stepping over to Claire. He reached to touch her hands, letting her pull away. He knew she was scared, knew that with how much he looked like his old man and with how he'd reacted to Toby trying to touch his throat. "Cl-ai-re." John tried not to wince as he spoke her name, the pain of his vocal cords being used so soon to being blown like a hot knife in his trachea. "L-ove… yo-u."

Claire looked up at him, noticing the pain in his eyes. "Don't speak." She ordered, reaching up to his neck so she could massage his larynx and help relieve his pain. "I want to be able to hear you sing again."

Kathrine gave a sad smile, remembering her years as a nurse and seeing the many cases of damaged vocal cords. "He'll never sound the same." She handed forty dollars to the barber. "They never do after they lose their voice." She remembered how John's voice had been slightly smooth before it'd blown out. "It'll be rougher, and maybe quieter." She noticed the concern on John's face, knowing exactly what he was worried about. "You won't have as much power to it, but you can learn new ways to sing to make it seem like you have it."

John touched Claire's fingers as she pushed on his Adams Apple pulling her hands behind his neck and letting her know how much he trusted her by letting her hands wrap around his neck, the one spot he protected the most -even more than his groin.

Claire gave a little smile, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. "You scared me today."

He nodded, making her squeeze his throat.

She remembered the dark bruises around his neck the night she'd found him in the park, the image of the chain pattern showing itself as the memory came back to her. "John…" She pulled his head down to her, letting her lips meet his. "I love you." She whispered, feeling his calloused hand on her cheek as he wiped a tear from her cheek. His touch was gentle, the touch of a loving boyfriend and a future husband. She leaned her head on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart deep inside. "I'm sorry." She whispered, hoping he knew what she meant.

He smiled, untying his flannel shirt from around his hips, and draping it over her shoulders. He knew how much she loved his shirts and also knew that there was another storm coming in from the coast. He'd smelled it on the wind, and from how strong the scent was he guessed it would be soon. He felt her trace one of the raised scars on his back over his shirt. He pressed his hand to his chest, moving it to her heart in the sign they'd created to say 'I love you.'