InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "toolbelt of love"

It’s with no real surprise that there be a casualty amidst walking the line of the occult. Knowing all he had on memories alone, John knew this would happen sooner or later, he only supposed that he had already better prepared himself. But what he was learning was that while the dreams made memories of another life seem as if you’d done and seen everything all before...he really hadn’t.

What’s worse, he didn’t even know Laura on a personal level other than the fact that he told Joan tirelessly that even she shouldn’t be going on with him to these ‘extractions’, and yet, he gave a shit. As angry as Constantine could be, vocalising timelessly that she’d brought it on herself, it was still a lost life. She was a mother, a wife, and someone who really didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t have to. And, maybe, if John were a little better practiced or even better prepared, he could have stood his ground against her coming or kept the spirits from getting the best of her. A Lot of maybes that weren’t going to go away anytime soon.

So there he was, back at square one on reliving dreams of terrors that could make themselves present in this life too. Just as he thought. Not quite as awful as condemning a child’s soul to hell, but the feeling was harrowing enough to press him to an alcohol-based coping as only he knew how. What better way to get rid of a feeling than to feel nothing at all?

It was easy to lock himself away in his house, ignore the classes that would eventually come, and wait for it all to pass over. Whenever the hell that would be. At the very least, his dead brother’s dog was a silent one who was content to remain curled against his leg beside him on the couch as he sat in the cloudy pool of silk cut air.

Difficult to miss the evening news, where the story was plastered - not only that, but various online outlets, websites, and even YouTube. Local wife and mother dead, satanic rituals involved, possession, demons (that one was less plausible, but certainly a viable theory to devout religious practitioners) - and even if it wasn’t Zatanna’s job to keep up to date with occult happenings in Orange County, the story would have drawn her attention anyway.

Because she knew who was involved, and she had known it was bound to happen - no turn of the cards or gaze into a crystal ball necessary. What she didn’t understand was why it had to be like this - she’d warned him, hadn’t she? She told him he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to shoulder all the burdens - and yet here they were, about to have a conversation they’d already had a thousand times, in another life, another place.

Zee didn’t hate him though - she never could. And she was certain that John already hated himself enough anyway. He always had. Seemed like he even would choose hate over love, sometimes.

Unlikely he’d answer the door, so she simply teleported into his house, the air shimmering and rippling before she appeared. Of course, that air was polluted with smoke and she coughed, waving it away. “If you’re busy, I can come back.”

Not a chance, actually, but that was implied. Mentioning it was only out of some semblance of politeness.

Layla picked up on the fresh presence in the house before Zee even spoke, giving a small yip in greeting, sailing off the couch to teeter on over and wag a few circles about her feet. The dog’s noise snapped John from his dreary thoughts, eyes falling onto Zatanna, already mentally preparing himself for the conversation that warranted avoiding a knock on the door that he would undoubtedly ignore in favor of pretending he wasn't there.

Their memories might not have matched up quite yet, but she knew him well. Too well.

“Exceedingly busy, actually.” Constantine agreed, motioning with his free hand towards the very empty living room that may have normally been occupied with books or papers. Just him, the dog, an empty bottle and nearly empty box of Silk Cuts, and now Zatanna.

On another day that would only be light sarcasm but he really did wish she'd pick another day. It was unlikely that would happen, and John didn't have the energy to tell her to piss off.

There was always time to fawn over the loaf-shaped dog, and Zatanna immediately crouched to give Layla loads of attention, butt scratches, and sweet words. “She’s a better host than you are, handsome,” the Mistress of Magic spoke in her husky timbre, having picked up Layla to cuddle her in human arms.

Zee slunk closer then, setting Layla back down when she found a decent spot on the sofa to sink into. Filled to the brim with restless energy, she wanted to pace, but forced herself to be somewhat still - even if the room needed to be tidied, tea needed to be made (she kept a jar or two in his kitchen - he was smart enough not to protest), and Constantine needed to actually eat something.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Laura,” she started. “She didn’t deserve that, no one deserved what happened. But this didn’t happen because of what you dream of, or some prophecy that you’re doomed to fall into the same cyclical bullshit that we both know - it happened because you wouldn’t ask for help, and I don’t want to be protected by you, John. I want us to be partners.”

Oh how he wished he was actually more inebriated for this conversation. There was the thought of contacting Max for more of that knock you on your ass dwarven ale, but the man likely would not indulge in self destructive behaviors or whatever the sort a shrink would like to say on the matter.

It was an impressive set of words, laid out so evenly and well organized that John wasn't only taking the moment of silence to get over how entertaining the notion was, but to remember all she'd said in the fuzzy haze of trying not to fall apart. She sounded like a chiding angel, like the ones who harped on him in his dreams, You didn't even ask for help, John. You acted brashly, John. But what help were any of them ever.

“You think one more body to give them to play with would’ve been a good idea, do you?” He smirked from behind his cigarette, plucking it from his mouth and huffing out the smoke through his nostrils, shaking his head. “It happened because I didn't tell her to sod off when I should have. I'm sure all of that seems like a grand way of doing things in your experience, but in mine, I work alone, and this is only scratching the edge on why.”

“Yes, and working alone has clearly been the best way to go about things,” Zatanna’s tone was like ice, and the cigarette was too - she froze it in John’s hand, grabbed it, and tossed the now wintry chunk of cancer-causing tobacco somewhere into a corner. “Don’t you fucking smirk at me - can you please just take two seconds to think about someone other than yourself?”

Layla decided to hit the deck then - or she jumped up off the sofa and tottered away on short little legs to probably find shelter from the blast somewhere. Because while Zee didn’t want to get into a sparring match, she would if pushed far enough. That, and she was just worried; it felt like poison crawling through her veins, and it always tended to make people say things that just came out all wrong.

“Take two seconds to think about what would happen - do you have any idea how much I don’t want to lose you? Because from my end, this is a little bit terrifying, just sitting around while you go set churches on fire by yourself because you work alone and can’t even consider trying something new.” This was all opening up Pandora’s box in terms of questions - like if he really thought he had someone to try to stay alive for, if this - whatever they were doing - was worth putting first, and putting at the forefront to him. Zee’s vivid blue eyes tightened as the words banged against her skull, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask yet.

“Oh, it's terrifying for you, love? I hadn't stopped to think on all that.” Sitting upright from the previously slumping position on the couch, Constantine’s demeanor hardened significantly. Brow and jaw setting in frustration. It wasn't that John didn't think she had a point or that her feelings were irrelevant.

It was a lot more than that. “I think about what would and could happen all of the time. I think all on what's happened, and how everyone who's ever put their trust in me dies. All of my mates and family have died, Zatanna. Every time, in any life. They all thought they wanted to help too, and it always ends the same. I get to sit and watch them suffer while I make it out alive. For the greater good of doing it over and over.”

Things were different here. Not all circumstances had been the same. But in light of all he'd seen, in light of everything that already happened John didn't want to keep repeating the grieving process.

“So yes, it makes me a bloody selfish sod for not wanting to be the one who always gets to stay alive while everyone else is dead somehow by my hands or association, and I couldn't care less because I won't sit through it all again.”

She didn’t want that for him, the endless cycle of death caused by John’s own good intentions - it was exactly why things had ended between them in their dreams, after a long and rocky road, but Zatanna couldn’t do that again. Not that she wanted to, not at all. “You can’t protect every single person by pushing them away and making yourself miserable,” she insisted. “Let them make their own choices. Let me make my own choices - and I choose you, and you know what? If I die at least I went out for something I believed in.”

Because he couldn’t stop the world from turning - as they both knew, it went on and on no matter what they did. Maybe technically Zee could slow time down, she could cut it off, she could rewind - but that was a dangerous game to play; things happened for a reason, even if they all ended up hating those reasons in the long run.

Her legs tucked up underneath her - being that it was still somewhat sunny out, she could get away with a long-sleeved shirt dress - and balanced her head in her hand, elbow leaning on the back of the sofa as she studied John’s posture. “I love you,” and she sounded sure when she said it, because she was. “...but the demon in that church we were in, was it right? You’ll never stop being afraid, not enough to love me too.”

It was what had killed them there - and it’d kill them here too, so maybe the idea of a different path wasn’t so novel after all. Maybe this was all the same old process repeated, a broken record.

“So I'm supposed to just take that, let it all happen and not try to avoid it?” He knew what she was trying to say. On its own, it sounded completely logical. Letting a few--or many, awful occurrences prevent him from living some semblance of a life. But when he had, it was always painful.

At least in this life he hadn't quite lost everyone in the same way. He did get time with a brother he'd never known, even his mother, before inevitably losing them--and that was before dreams.

There was just so much pain that yes, it made John try to steer clear of making any sort of new attachments at all.

John watched her move against the sofa, demeanor falling some at her words. Something that should have made him happy only saddened him, eyes falling downward to stare at his lap--and while she should have known that the demon was trying to hurt her, it wasn't incorrect. “No, he's not wrong...but it isn't as though that's what I want. I don't want any of that mess.” His memories were incredibly sad, lonely, miserable. Constantine was driven by fear and desperation. Not exactly positive, healthy traits. “I just don't know how I could handle any more of that. I would much rather you alive and hating me than dead.”

“We don’t know what’s going to happen - I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, or you could, the sky could literally fall, we still don’t know. But making a promise to deal with it as it comes, together, seems a lot better than wallowing,” Zee huffed, and she pushed herself up from the couch.

She didn’t storm off or disappear, at least not yet - but this was exactly what she’d been afraid of. The constant make-up, breakups that left her beaten down and untrusting of, well, everyone. This Princess of Prestidigitation couldn’t boast a lot of luck in the love department, that was for sure. Now, she refused to repeat her own mistakes - they either did this with full intent to work through problems, work on a relationship (and relationships were hard, nothing was ever perfect) or they didn’t do it at all.

“So should I go? Is it over?” she asked, trying to keep the raw emotion from her voice. “I can’t...I can’t force you to do anything, John. I’m willing to fight for us but it can’t just be me. We both have to want this. If you’re going to choose solitude, over trying to build a life with someone who wants to build one with you then - then I don’t know. I guess that’s your choice.”

Selfishly he kept from watching her leave the couch, knowing full well that all she had and continued to say made perfect sense, it did. He just didn't want to act on his emotions sporadically, but wasn't he already? This was probably for the best, he should have let her leave. That would keep her safe, away from him.

Hadn't he already tried that in his dreams? Plenty had gone wrong, he'd tried a relationship with Kit, but did he really listen to her? Not entirely.

It stood to say that on either side of the coin there was the possibility of a very brutal grief. One was definite--John knew how utterly lonely and awful it had been, how dark it made him. And here, he'd been lonely without Jack or Mary-Anne present, even pushing away his sister and niece, but what good was any of that?

“You're right love, wallowing hasn't gotten me anywhere. Ever.” Sighing, he pushed up from the couch to stand, rubbing his temples in frustration while trying not to do anything stupid. That was sort of his forte. “I do want that..I really do.” John didn't want to live in fear, his memories hadn't really given him much of anything in the way of positivity for those he cared about. It only scared him off. “I suppose there's no point in going on at all if I just concede to repeating a way...I can't promise you I'll ever stop being afraid, if you'd seen all I have..but I can still try.”

Because he had already lived miserably. He'd already been lonely and going through the motions here. If he had to be a servant to God and their earth, be it's ‘constant one’, why did he have to be a bloody wreck?

“John, it’s okay to be afraid - it really is. There are some things we can’t ever fully get over - “ Zee went to him then, wrapped her arms around him and hugged him because she’d wanted to do that since she got here. The stench of Silk Cuts and strong liquor tickled her nose, from the way the aromas had seeped into his clothes, but that was so very him. “It’s sometimes a good thing to at least have fears, because they in an odd way keep us grounded. But we can’t let them hold us back.”

She tilted her face up and nosed at his throat, pressing a kiss there - and the tears that leaked from her eyes were hot and salty; a result of stress, and also sadness for him. Zatanna loved him, as she said - she hated to see him hurt. “And I can’t promise how long I’ll be on this Earth, no matter how many times I turn the cards - but I do promise to try along with you,” she said. To make a relationship work, that is - it took effort from both parties, but in Zee’s mind, was entirely worth it when you found the right person.

As smirking and smoky as they happened to be.

Grounded was a very stable sounding word. It sounded like something his mother or brother might have said, and really, the only time John had ever felt grounded, that he wasn't really just a mess moving through the world and waiting around to die, were the short bits of memories he had them or his other mates or Zee.

He sighed into her hug, visibly relaxing into her arms as he wound his tightly around her. He let his head rest against her until he felt the wetness of tears on his skin--pulling back to brush his thumbs gently over her cheek to wipe those away before it really turned him into a sodding wreck. “Let’s just not think on that part, yeah?” Because the more time John had to think on possibilities and all he already lost and what it was like, the more he cowered away from wanting to try again.

Thankfully she knew there were some things he couldn't get over--he didn't know how he could. “Next time I've an inkling that there may be a bit more than a few spirits, I'll let you know. But this time I didn't really think it to be that big a deal.” He was being honest on that, “I'm still trying to get used to everything in that regard too...” Constantine sighed against her once more, drained in all emotional aspects. “Are you sure you've got the right mess you'd like to waste your time on, love?”

It was a lot that he needed to work into getting used to at the moment. Zatanna seemingly made it easier on the prospect of not being alone. For once.

Zatanna understood, she did - there was no way she’d ever fully get over the death of her father, not in the dreams anyway. She’d spent way too much time searching, and had even walked over coals and through the flames of Hell to find him. Here, she would always be haunted by the flames of that stage fire which erupted so quickly and claimed the lives of both her parents, leaving her and Kat orphans. They were teenagers at the time, so maybe too ‘grown up’ to be considered as much - but no matter how old you were, when something happened to a parent you damn well felt like an orphan regardless.

“I didn’t mean to scold or anything, I just...worried,” she admitted, smoothing her hands down his chest - fingers hooked on John’s belt loops, and she tugged him close to her. “And I’m sure. Though you do look like a mess - do you even have any food here? I can make something.”

Poor Layla. Zee would be sure to put something in her food bowl too, so she knew it was safe to come out from hiding.

“No need to worry on me. If one thing is ever consistent I'm frustratingly difficult to kill.” A genuine smirk pulled to his face at her tugging, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. John’s eyes wandered at the thought of what might be in his fridge. “I think I may have some groceries in there from the other day, but you don't have to bother with that.”

He couldn't remember when he ate last, probably a little before going to Laura’s house but food was really the last thing on his mind. But he probably did need to eat, and John was really of the mind to just go in whatever direction Zatanna pushed him at the moment. Whichever required little to no effort, and no confrontation.

“Though it may also be meat, mostly.” He chuckled knowing full well she was vegetarian, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Burgers, maybe steak…”

“Grilled cheese for me - dead cow for you,” Zatanna decided, giving John’s rear end a pat - then she extricated herself to see what was what in the kitchen. Her tea collection was still in order, which was pleasing - maybe a hot cup of oolong later, something rich to relax with. She didn’t plan on going anywhere, as long as he didn’t mind.

Figures that he would have meat in his fridge, and little else - it was such a manly thing to do, but luckily there seemed to be the bare essentials. Maybe she could even manage a salad also. The package of burgers was removed with nary a look of disgust - just because she was a vegetarian didn’t mind she refused to touch meat; most of her friends were carnivores anyway.

With things now sizzling in the pan, that meant she could open a can of dog food using a spoken word. “Going to let me stay the night, handsome?” she flashed him a stage-bright smile. “I might even seduce you a little.”

As Zatanna ventured to the kitchen to cook the deliciously dead cow, John actually went to go look for dear Layla, who liked to go under his bed when there was a storm or any sort of loud noises.

She passed him in the hall at the first sign of food hitting her bowl, all possible dangerous transgressions behind her in the pursuit for food, long floppy ears bouncing as she hopped over Zatanna with gratuitous tail wags and sweet eyes. John could only shake his head and migrate to flop into one of the high chairs at the bar of the kitchen, letting his head rest in the palm of his hand, propped to watch the ladies in front of him.

“We’ll see how well this dead cow tastes.” But he was smiling again, ever lightly, the notion of asking her to leave now very far from his mind. His face might've hurt from how often she actually made him use the muscles that weren't required for a frown. “I do so enjoy your seduction techniques.”

The company was considerably better than that of his lonesome. Especially now. There was no denying that Constantine felt remarkably less shitty in any and all aspects when she was around.

“Lucky I’m not too bad with a burger, Constantine,” Zatanna smirked right back - though yes, it had admittedly been awhile since she cooked anything meaty. :The last barbecue at her house had technically been Lina’s baby shower, and for that Hawke did all the grilling anyway. “I’ll even put cheese on it for you.” How sweet of her!

Layla was also such a good girl. Zee wanted to give her a treat, so she gathered a spoonful of peanut butter and bent to let the little weenie lick it all excitedly. Of course, this made for a cleavage appreciation, since from his post on the stool John had a great view down the low cut of her dress, ample breasts in the line of vision.

Her seduction techniques were top-notch, you see.

Spoon tossed in the sink, she finished what she was doing - the greens she had thrown together with oil and vinegar, her grilled cheese, that dead cow on a bun. Ta da! “Here, some nourishment will do you good,” she said as she settled on a stool beside him. “And you can place a bet on whether or not I forgot underwear when I teleported in.” Hint? Odds were good.

Amazingly, she tended to feel happy around him too - and they’d be okay. She knew that, and no turn of the cards - not even a glimpse into the dregs of a coffee cup - were necessary for her to be certain.

Top-notch indeed, not that she needed any sort of effort in coaxing him, John was so easily coerced by Zatanna--if that hadn't been obvious by now, well.

The only thing he wouldn't be convinced of doing was eating a tofu if she so choose to try.

“Thanks love,” With the little tube dog content with her meal and Zatanna now with hers, Constantine dug into the only solid piece of sustenance he'd had in probably a day or two. His body was certainly thankful for the nourishment. The first bits of food well chewed and down his throat, John leaned against the counter, watching her fondly. “Based on past experience, I’m willing to bet you've forgotten again. Should we keep some for you here with your tea?”

Probably not in the same cupboard. Wouldn't that be an awkward thing to explain if any other guests managed to stop by his house?

Zatanna laughed, she couldn’t exactly help herself. “Right, keep my underwear here with tea - you’re always full of good ideas.” It sounded like he was saying in the same place, or drawer, but she knew what John meant - and she also loved to tease him, sometimes.

But overall, bringing some clothes by probably wouldn’t be terrible. As long as he didn’t mind giving up some drawer or closet space - she would do the same in her Moroccan-inspired abode, that tended to remind guests of the inside of a genie lamp, if he wanted. “I don’t really need to wear any when I come over though - “ Zee leaned against him, so she could steal a kiss or two. “Do I?”

He’d been teasing of course, if she wanted to bring clothes well..that was quite a step but if there was already tea being stored, what of it? It was just clothes.

“Not in the cupboard, Zee.” There was an eyeroll but it was nothing in the way of real agitation, especially not with her endearing little press for closeness and stealing kisses. Nearly sweet to the point of pushing the blood to his cheeks, John felt like he were a boy of five, dealing with an abundance of affections he wasn’t so used to in some time.

He did return them, letting his arm drape over the back of her chair, leaning back against her. “You don’t need to wear anything when you come over, actually.” He snickered against her lips, “Unless of course you decide to drive. I do believe that’s illegal.”

“So next time I should just teleport naked? I’ll keep that in mind,” Zatanna purred at him, hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers going into his hair. She scratched gently, planting another kiss on the corner of his mouth - the thing about cooking was that it required cleaning, and that was decidedly less fun than what she wanted to move on to. But the good thing about magic was that it came in handy during times like these - and she wasn’t above using the little tricks of the trade to make life a bit easier, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else.

There, with the spoken word naelc, and a brief display of Sorcerer’s Apprentice-esque dancing, the dishes were done. Oh, and wasn’t she just so proud of herself? “I kind of want to take this party to your room though - what do you think, Constantine?”

His eyes lidded at her touch, leaning into her fingers and watching with a keen interest as she orchestrated the kitchen in a very Fantasia-like manner.

“I think,” he scooted the chair backwards and away from the counter, sliding down onto his feet and pulling her chair to him, hands winding around her waist and drawing her closer. “You've taken such fine care of me, my darling, it's only suiting I return the favor.” Bumping their noses briefly, John scooped her up into his arms, placing a few stray kisses along her cheek and jawline. The descent to his bedroom down the hallway wasn't far. He took careful note to shut the door behind them gently with his foot--so no sweet noodle dogs would wander into a party that wasn't for puppy dog eyes.