Variations on a Theme

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: This will be a collection of little drabbles clustered in fives and centered on a theme. ThunderBlink drabbles, of course.

Chapter 3: Kids

"She won't bite, you know that? Right?" John asked with laughter in his voice, looking at Clarice bemused.

"You don't know that," Clarice protested, arms stretched out in front of her, holding the object of her fear at arm's length.

"Actually, I do." Another laugh. "She doesn't have any teeth yet."

"I know that." Now she sounded indignant. "But she definitely has a dangerous expression on her."

"I don't know… She looks more amused than anything else."

Clarice was not amused if her narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

"Sorry," John winced. "She is more like… fascinated. You know, Lorna has this expression before she goes crazy magnet girl."

"Dangerous. That is the good word. Here," she pressed the little girl into John's hands. "You hold the baby."

Clarice watched with amusement as tiny eyes narrowed with thoughtful contemplation.

"He is… normal," came the verdict from her five-year-old daughter and she couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from her. Yes, the newborn baby peacefully slumbering in her arms definitely was what would everybody call normal. Ten fingers and ten toes (she counted them) with a perfect blob of dark hair and tiny perfect ears which curved at the top. He had also inherited his father's darker skin-tone and, she was sure, his nose.

He was perfect.

She smiled, turning her eyes on her daughter who was sitting on John's lap excitedly scrutinizing her new baby brother. She was beautiful and her heart skipped a beat just by looking at her. She reached out and tucked an errand purple lock behind and incredibly cute pointy ear and wondered how strange the human mind worked.

She remembered vividly the paralyzing fear which took hold of her while she carried that tiny human being. She was terrified that she would in any way look like her… that, because of her, her baby would bear the mark of being a mutant. But as soon as her daughter was placed into her arms and she took in her tiny wrinkled body which was a beautiful shade of magenta and her deep purple hair and pointy ears, Clarice was sure that she'd never seen anything more perfect.

"Look," John pressed his cheek against her daughter's hair and two identical pair of brown eyes watched as the baby slowly opened his eyes.

Clarice smiled proudly: they were a vibrant shade of green.

When John was asked to join the Underground, he had no way to know that accepting the offer would mean so much more to him than the chance to fight for something he believed in.

It meant accepting the responsibility of taking care of his people… of leading them.

It meant helping those who could not defend themselves.

It meant helping families reunite… finding a new home.

It meant him finding a new home…

It meant him ending up where he was at the moment: lying next to his wife with a five years old girl tucked away safely between them and a nine years old boy silently snoring on him.

He had found Clarice just when everything was to turn on its head and could never be grateful enough for her steadfast present by his side.

They had found Jamie and Lily not long after that. Everything had fallen apart by that time. They were still struggling to rebuild the Underground while trying to help the mutants who'd been driven away from their homes. That was how they found a little boy covering in an abandoned warehouse. They were originally looking for six children whom even John found difficult to track down. It was easy enough to narrow down their hiding place to the warehouse but to find them in there… It was a completely another question. They were moving the same way, sounding the same way… even breathing the same way. He could not even determine their exact number.

It was almost as frustrating as trying to track down Clarice.

Finally, John managed to coax the children out of their hiding places and he was dumbstruck to find out that they were one and the same child… all fourteen of them. Jamie had the ability to multiply himself.

He was so terrified that, for days, he was only willing to communicate with John. Somehow, over time, Jamie became their little boy. It was four years ago.

Lily was the daughter of a refugee couple in Baltimore and was found under the debris of the demolished safehouse Sentinel Services had torn to the ground with most of the people still inside. By the time John and the others arrived there, there were no survivors to rescue from under the wreckage save for a toddler who had not a scratch on her. When Clarice took the crying baby into her arms, John instantly knew that she would not give her up.

So, they had two beautiful children and their life found a new rhythm...

His life found a new goal.

Clarice was pulled into wakefulness by children giggling in the kitchen. It made her lips curl into a small sleepy smile as she stretched her muscles. It was good to hear the scared little boy they'd found a couple of days ago opening up.

"What's happening here?" she didn't lose the smile as she walked into the kitchen where she found John and five little boys merrily shoveling Froot Loops into their mouths. The scene felt so normal that she couldn't help the small flutter of her stomach. John looked amused, the shadows haunting his eyes in the last months seemed to have lifted for the moment and the uncontrolled enthusiasm of the boys warmed her heart.

Of course, there was nothing normal in the scene. There was still the responsibility of the Underground lying heavily on John's shoulders and, of course, there was only one boy under their care. Jamie. He was something else, though.

Five pairs of identical eyes turned on her over their bowls but they only spared her a fleeting glance before turning back to their task at hand: devouring their breakfast with such vigor which made Clarice gave John a bemused look.

John just shrugged then pulled her into his side.

"Jamie got so excited when he saw the cereal box that he split into five," he explained as Clarice's arm snaked over his shoulder.

"I see," she nodded, pressing a kiss into his hair and being just slightly worried about the prospect of feeding an excitable five-year-old.

"John," Clarice called his name with an uncertain low voice that immediately got his attention. She was standing in the doorway to their bedroom, her expression matching her tone.

"Hey," he abandoned his work at once. "What is it?"

He watched with concern as she slowly walked up to the desk and sat down opposite of him. She took a deep breath and reached for his hand that lay atop a pile of paper, enveloping it into her small ones. "I heard you talk with Marcos earlier… about having children?" She avoided his eyes, he noticed.

"Clarice…" he tried to interrupt her but she squeezed his hand and lifted her gaze to look him dead in the eyes.

"I didn't hear all of it. But I could gather the subject. And I think its time we talked about it, too. You know to clarify the expectations and face realities." All John could do was to nod. Clearly, Clarice had something on her mind and he didn't dare to interrupt her.

"You remember when I told you about that bastard who used to beat the crap out of me and my sister?" Another nod on his part. He felt like something heavy settled in the pit of his stomach. She cleared her throat before continuing. "That son of a bitch… let's just say that he didn't stop with beating us… me, specifically." John took in a sharp breath and Clarice let out a rueful chuckle. "I guess he got off on me being… different. Anyway," she shook herself, not giving the opportunity to John to react in any way, "what I wanted to say is that I can't have children. I had a nasty miscarriage and..."

"Clarice..." His voice was raw when he finally spoke up.

"It's all right," she gave him a small sad smile. "Really." She accompanied it with a small shrug that told him that it wasn't all right after all. How it could be? His own heart ached with her loss. "I'm not sure I would willingly want to bring a child into this world anyway."

"That was exactly what I told Marcos," he admitted and the relief behind her surprise told him that she really only heard what he was talking about with Marcos and not what had exactly been said. "Still, you deserve it to be your own decision."

"Either way, it really sucks, right?" she asked, eyes shining with coming tears. Acceptance? Regret? She understood his pain as well.

"It does," John agreed, gently nudging her to stand up and pulled her in front of him. "But I love you, Clarice." He looked up at her. "That's all what matters."

Clarice nodded, then, stepping between his legs, she pulled him against her chest. "I love you, too."

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