The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 3- Claire

Claire hadn't meant to abandon John, but she didn't feel any particular need to get right back to him, either. He hadn't divulged the full story about Benji, merely called and said that he 'couldn't be alone right now' and then teleported into her living room. She had previously enjoyed his company the few times that they had caught up during her breaks from her studies- they got drinks with some of their other former schoolmates, or sometimes even coffee, just the two of them- but she didn't know how long she wanted to spend in his company right now. During term, she liked to think of herself as a different person- a studious, no-nonsense, healthy-eating adult with an appreciation for good wine and classic cinema- to the perpetually-tipsy karaoke champion John knew from the Christmas holidays. The party was a nightmare for her- she didn't want to be there and could almost hear the work she was neglecting piling up back in her tiny flat. She vaguely knew the host from a large group dinner that she didn't really remember- sometimes her appreciation got the better of her- and really hadn't planned on coming before that evening.

But she was nervous. John made her nervous. He wasn't a tall man, but he was very well-built, clearly strong and now he had a kind of nervous energy about him. The various scars and injuries that he had accrued during his time as a policeman- things he had used to go to such great lengths to cover up, never exposing an inch above his wrists or below his neck, wearing thick leather gloves if he had recently been in a fistfight, and one time even wearing an incongruous American-style cap pulled down to severe levels over his forehead to hide a bruise- he now let show to all the world. Even now, among this milieu of strangers, he was parading around in a decades-old t-shirt, his wounds on prominent display along with a recent tattoo on his right arm that read 'BENJI' in a strangely formal font. She had taken him to the party so she would have to spend less time alone with him; it made her feel bad, to be so terrified of intimacy with a friend, but she couldn't face an evening of just the two of them.

After slipping away from him as he took in the party, she found the drinks table in the kitchen, stacked with various boozes, cheap, colourful soft drinks- Claire longed for a time when parties would no longer involve 'mixers'- and, most importantly, wine. She didn't know whose the wine was, if it was for general consumption or not, but she found that with this sort of gathering, it didn't really matter after eleven o'clock. She poured a generous measure into a  white plastic cup- another mainstay of uni parties she was looking forward to being rid of- and then went back to find John.

He was talking to a blond kid who was trying far too hard to look nonchalant. Claire didn't know him, so she walked over to the girl who she thought was the host and asked, with a lack of pre-amble or pleasantries which suggested a stronger relationship than they actually shared, who he was.

"His name's Sam. He's a first year politics student."

"He's eighteen?" Claire felt vicariously embarrassed for John.

"Think so; I met him at a film club showing. He's pretty cool, for a teenager."

Claire cocked her head to one side as she examined John. She had never seen him flirt and had only met one of his previous boyfriends- a wiry, irascible arsehole of the highest order- and couldn't imagine him being particularly adept at romantic conversation.

She was right; luckily, Sam wasn't particularly interested in romantic conversation. "So, how did you get this one?" He pointed at short, deep red scar just above John's elbow.

"Believe it or not, that was just some woman's fingernails," Sam burst out laughing and John grinned, "I'm serious, she had, like, owl's talons or something. It was disgusting."

Sam took another sip of beer- John had given him one of the cans that he'd brought to the party- and looked for another interesting mark on his new friend's arms. He had been largely ignoring the tattoo- in part, he was afraid that it would turn out to be the name of a lover- but this time his eyes rested on it for just a little too long. John glanced down at it and the smile disappeared from his lips. He looked up at Sam and he suddenly looked terrified.

"I- I'm sorry," Sam stuttered. "I didn't want to-"

"It's fine. I'd just rather not talk about it." His voice was slightly louder than it needed to be.

Sam refused to let there be an awkward silence, "So, what are you going to do when you're done being a policeman?"

"I don't know. I don't really have any prospects, as it were; I'm not really good at anything."

"But you can teleport: you could go into private transportation."

John wrinkled his nose, "That doesn't interest me, just opening portals all day for other people and then sitting and waiting for them to come back. It just sounds mindless."

"You could be a travel journalist!"

John laughed, "I have been to a lot of places."

Sam leant forward, "Like where?"

"Well, I haven't broken any of the treaties, obviously, but last month I went to Peru and Uluru, in Australia."

"You can just get there instantaneously?"

"As soon as the paperwork's filed, yeah."

"That's so cool," Sam half-whispered in awe.

"I'll take you some time." The words were out before John had really considered their various implications. They hung between them for a time, like a socially awkward disco ball or a piece of mistletoe between perfect strangers.  

"That would be amazing," was all Sam could think to say.

Claire mingled a little at the party, but kept glancing back at John and his new acquaintance. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not- on the one hand, she was happy she hadn't had to spend all evening babysitting John (and also that he'd made a friend, of course), but on the other, she was wary. She knew hardly anything about what had happened to John, but it was clear that he'd been through some sort of trauma and she was scared that this new man might somehow be taking advantage of that. Also, she knew that she would at some point have to try and tear them apart and she had a rule that she never spoke to teenagers.

She turned her attention back to the conversation at hand and then almost immediately back to John and Sam when she saw that they were getting up to leave. Quite abruptly, she left the small circle of girls to whom she was theoretically talking and moved across the room to stand in the way of the exiting couple. "Going somewhere?" She hadn't wanted her voice to sound so accusatory.

"We're just stepping outside for some air," John explained, slightly taken aback by her tone, "this is Sam, by the way."

Sam offered out his hand but Claire ignored it "You're going for a walk?" She sounded skeptical.  

"Yes."

"Do you know how to walk, John?"

"Yes." John didn't know where this was coming from.

"You teleported here. You teleported to the shop when we were out of milk. You teleported when I needed to see my next door neighbour."

"I still know how to walk, Claire." He leant in closer- there were several people watching them now, "Is something the matter?"

She tried to express just what was wrong exactly. "I just don't want to have to wait for you."

"Then, don't. I'll just teleport back to yours when we're done."

She hadn't thought of this; or, more accurately, she had but she had dismissed it for a reason she couldn't remember. She still wasn't really sure why she was being so confrontational.

She turned to Sam suddenly, "Have him back by midnight, do you hear?" She'd meant it as a joke, but had completely misjudged the tone and now, coupled with her earlier behaviour, it sounded very much like she had actually given John a curfew for when he was staying with her. She tried to smile at the boy, but it came out looking incredibly forced and a little scary, so she gave up the entire thing as a bad job and just stalked off to get more wine.

John turned to Sam, "That's Claire; with whom I am friends, for some reason."

"She seems lovely." Sam lied.