A/N: This is my first time writing for this fandom but I had too many feels about ThunderBlink, I had to get it out. I hope it's not out of character or terrible. This is canon-compliant with 2x15. I'm going to be pissed if Clarice really is gone.

John allowed the whiskey to burn a path down his throat, staring out at the skyline, he felt an ache in his chest if you could even call it that.

It felt like his heart was trying to tear itself apart more than it already was.

It had shattered beyond repair when the shots were fired when the most important person to him was ripped from him so brutally it was an image he would never forget.

The look in Clarice's eyes when she was hit would forever be burned in his memory.

God, he hated himself. He was supposed to help people but he couldn't even save her when he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone.

If he had been faster, stronger, if he had gone with her, he could have saved her.

He should never have let her leave without him. He should have fought harder for her and maybe she would be standing next to him.

He looked up at the stars, remembering that night in their apartment. He wished she was with him, she loved watching the night sky.


His eyes shut tightly against the sound of her voice.

Her memory was haunting him, he saw her everywhere he looked, memories of when they were happy chasing him, he could smell her scent surrounding him, hear her voice calling out to him and he swore he could feel her.

His heart was in complete denial, telling him she was alive and out there, calling out to him, waiting for him to find her but his mind was logical. There was no way she survived three bullets, he watched her fall, he watched her disappear into her portal as it vanished differently than any of her others.


He swallowed hard, he opened his eyes and took another long drag of the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand.

He shouldn't be drinking, he knew that. Tomorrow they had to stop the Inner Circle but he couldn't sleep because when he did all he felt was the empty beside him, the sheets cold where Clarice warmth should be. Nightmares of her death plaguing him.

Last night Lorna and Andy had come home, he wanted to be happy for Marcos and the trucker family but it was impossible for him to feel anything resembling happiness.

Clarice was dead, he was a wreck and he didn't think he was ever going to be okay again.

Clarice may be gone but he wasn't going to let her death be in vain, tomorrow they were going to stop the Inner Circle and he was going to kill Jace Turner.

The man took Clarice from him, he didn't get to live after that.

Revenge wasn't who Clarice was.

It didn't use to who he was but it was who he had become when he lost her.

Why did everyone he ever loved always have to die?

After all of this was over, he didn't know how he was supposed to go on living without her, he could only focus on the now, on the fight ahead.


He clenched his jaw chest aching, lifted hand to his chest he rubbed his hand over his heart like it was an open wound.

"I miss you, Clarice," John whispered hoarsely into the wind. "So much."

A/N: Thanks for reading.

I might write more for this ship if inspiration hits.