Chapter Three-Hundred and Sixteen
Clarissa yawned as she filled her paper plate in the breakfast room, jumping when familiar hands were placed over her eyes. "Good morning Tommy." She smirked, turning around to hug her husband. "Twenty-three-years of marriage and I've memorized every line in your hands."
Thomas laughed, kissing her lips as John stole the key to Clarissa and Phoebe's room from Clarissa's PJ pocket and disappearing as quickly as he'd appeared. "Tell me you just felt that little pickpocket steal that."
She nodded, rolling her eyes as she listened to Claire and Allison giggle in the corner of the room. "He's lost his edge." She smiled, remembering when she'd first met John and he'd stolen every little bit of food he could get his hands on, and even started hording pennies and dimes in his pillow case. "Remember when he nabbed your letter opener and hid it under his mattress?"
"He used to pull it on me when I surprised him." He shook his head, the little scar on his palm itching as he thought of the one-time John had actually gotten a good slice in.
Phoebe groaned as she rolled over, rubbing her eyes as she looked up at her brother. "Wolf…" She gave a tired smile, her mouth tilting the same way John's always did when he was tired.
He nodded, rolling over her and onto the bed beside her. "Morning Mouse." He yawned, tucking one arm under the pillow as he rested on a real bed.
She snuggled into his abdomen, pressing her forehead to his sternum. "Glad you're here."
He snored, already having dropped into a dead sleep.
John kept his head low, watching his step as he picked his way through the rubble left from the storm. He looked up as a familiar voice spoke to someone in the Red Cross tent. He didn't remember the man speaking, but the voice was like something he'd heard in a dream long ago.
The man glanced over at him, giving a small smile before he went back to his conversation.
That's when it hit him.
John's legs and arms scrambled to keep his head above the water, the dark, tightness of the crawlspace offering no escape. He gasped for air; his small body shocked by something as it hit his left arm. He forced the tears back, fighting against the odds of survival. He reached out for the beam in the ceiling, his hand clutching at a rusty wire as he finally let his body relax.
Red and blue lights flashed as John was jostled in the strong arms of someone in a warm coat. He looked up at the man, able to feel someone fitting a mask over his face as his rescuer carried him to safety and wrapped him in a hot blanket. He was vaguely aware of him shouting orders, but nothing would register.
John gasped as the memory stopped, nearly falling into a pile of split and splintered wood before Dominic caught him. "He…" John gasped, recognizing the man's soft face, and his dark hair that was now graying at the sides. "He's the one… who pulled me out of the crawlspace." He swallowed, letting Dominic right him on his feet again.