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John didn’t have to use his powers. He could sense it. Death lingered in the corners of this abandoned house and he tried to stop her from going in, to spare her the pain of what she would find, but true to her nature, Clarice went bounding in without a second’s hesitation. It was what drew him to her in the first place. Hardened as she was, there was unfailing loyalty there, the kind that went beyond self-preservation, that was a little reckless and a little inexplicable. But John called out for her nonetheless, trying and failing to stop her.
Following her inside the house, John made his way towards the back room to the kitchen and his stomach rolled at the sight. Blood smeared the ground like a second coat of paint and there were bullets holes on the door. He could guess what had happened here and it made his blood boil.
He turned to her as she entered the room. “Clarice, I’m sorry.”
Watching as her face contorted in pain, the tears pooling in her eyes and falling down her pallid skin, it broke something in him. He reached out to her and pulled her into his chest, holding her to him as if he could shield her from this moment, but this was something he couldn’t protect anyone from. This was the reality of their lives. This was the cost of being a mutant. John held her just the same; it was all he could do right now.
Her sobs grew in volume and she tried to push back, but it was half-hearted at best and John wasn’t willing to let her go right now. He thought of the people here, the ones who had raised Clarice the best way they knew how, and all the children that had lived here when the Sentinels arrived. He thought about the pain shuddering through her body and John’s anger grew. He never deluded himself into thinking he could save every mutant he ever met; he knew he would always lose more than he could save. Being in the marines meant he knew firsthand what war did to people and he’d lost enough brothers out there to be nearly acclimated to such losses, but John wanted to save her. He wanted to protect her from all of this – the pain, the heartbreak. He wanted to hold her until none of this mattered anymore.
And if John couldn’t do that, he wanted to hurt them, make them pay for what they did here and how much they’d hurt Clarice. John gritted his teeth and tried to quell the anger building up inside of him. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him, not when she was still in his arms. The last thing John wanted was to be the one to hurt her... again.
Clarice pulled back, this time more forcefully and he let her go. Her nose was red, eyes puffy and swollen, but she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. The defiance he now knew so well back in her eyes. Without so much as another word, Clarice pushed open the door and walked out. The sunlight streamed in and turned the crimson on the linoleum tiles to a bright red. It made his stomach turn.
John followed her out a few minutes later after trying to discern what had happened here. He didn’t want to tell her, but he couldn’t lie to her. John never wanted to lie to her again. The last time he did, he very nearly lost her (actually he did and he wasn’t about to do it again).
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling her in again. John felt her arms unwind from around herself and wrap around his torso. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her and cradled her head with one hand, trying to let her know without words that he was here for her. No matter what he said about only coming because of the Underground, he was also here because he needed Clarice to know there were people in her corner, that he was in her corner.
“You know what I said earlier about this not being my fight? I don’t know if it was before but it sure as hell is now.”
John watched her walk away. The conviction in her voice made his heart ache. This was not what he wanted, not like this.
“Clarice, wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you find justice for what happened here,” he told her carefully. “But this isn’t how I wanted you to come back and if you need time... to... if you need time, I’ll understand.”
Clarice turned and her face softened slightly as she stepped forward. “The faster I come back, the faster I can make those bastards pay for what they did and find the kids they took.” She tilted her head. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Me back fighting the good fight?”
He touched her shoulder and implored her to hear his words. “Not like this."
She shook her head and began to back away. “Well, you got what you wished for. Let’s go.”
She still didn’t trust him. It was a realisation that admittedly hurt him. He should’ve expected it though. After what Sonia did to her and how he’d been complicit in it, what reason had John given her to trust him? Clarice wasn’t going back for him; she was going back for her foster family. It was a good reason as any, but it didn’t make his life any less complicated. There were things there between them, real on his end but on hers? He couldn’t be sure.
John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, and followed her towards the main road. At least she’d be coming back. At least then he could keep his eye out for her and protect her as well as he could. That was a consolation he’d have to accept for now.