synthneon | · CALL ME OUT (WINTER) ·

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· CALL ME OUT (WINTER) ·

❄️ WINTER

I don't wanna change your mind
But I don't wanna go home tonight
Tell me no or I'm coming over

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But the thing is, even if John's spells are nothing but other spells patched together, fantastic flashbangs meant to distract and dazzle, he can't say that that's all they are. And maybe it's just because Zed tends to be more easily wowed by things like magic and the existence of angels, but she wants to believe that what John can do helps people.

So she's seen the con man side of him, and that's the side he shows people more often than not, but she's also seen his heart. He doesn't let it show often, and in her opinion, he's more likely to loudly announce he doesn't have one, but she's seen that look in his eyes when he's remembering Newcastle and Astra, or the look he sometimes gets when he looks at her, and for Zed, that's proof positive that the man has a heart. It's the part of him that's gotten her to fall hard for him, although she's the last person who would admit that out loud.

And in all honesty, even though she can't bring herself to look at John now, and even though she can't quite stop her hands from shaking as he's pulling her in, she knows that if the harbinger of her own death is also the cost of them winning the war, then she'll face it head-on if she has to. Every war has its cost, whether in lives or other more intangible losses, but if, at the end of the day, John redeems his soul and saves Astra, it'll be worth it. Because however many times John insists he's not a good man, that he's done too much to ever be redeemed, Zed refuses to believe it.

Was she pleased with how he manipulated Gaz? No, not by any stretch of the imagination. Does she think he deserves to be damned to hell for everything he's done? Also no, not by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone can be redeemed, even pain in the ass men like John.

When he slips in front of her, hands going to both sides of her face, she allows him to turn her, but her eyes slip away from his, because there's something beginning to brim in them, and she doesn't want him to see her start to fall apart. If he's scared, then so is she, but she's always put on a brave face, a stiff upper lip, and anyway, isn't he the one who told her to buck up and remember that there's a war going on?

She can't afford to fall to pieces now. "Who says I can't be both? I'm like Ariadne with her mazes and her labyrinths, but I'm also like Icarus who is too bold and ends up falling because of it." Didn't she fall once already, after pushing herself to use her powers before she was ready? This time, though, it seems that there's no coming back from this fall. That emotional quality in John's voice is foreign, and it makes her heart clench up to hear it.

"I'm sorry, John, this is the last thing you deserve to be dealing with." It's just one more thing added to the terrible pile of problems John has on his plate. Maybe she really should just say her goodbyes now and make a clean break of it. Will it hurt both of them? Yes. Will it be better for her friends in the long run? She thinks so.

"You're not failing, Zed." John says it with a level assurity that seems hard for the man to ever really express. Unless its in himself or some sort of dire moment.

His fingers brush across her skin again, head tilting to try and catch her eye. If she can't believe in herself and her abilities? Then, well, she can believe in the fact that he trusts her. Bit corny to say though, innit?

"You're strong, Zed. Stronger than most people who decide to walk this path with me." A pause. "Stronger than me in more bloody way than one. Icarus was a prick. Thought he could achieve something more by half-assing it. You don't do that. You give it your all. You're a good person. That's even rare to find than someone strong in this line of work. Don't sell yourself short, alright? You'll be stepping on my operating methods, and, well, we can't have that. Now can we?"

It always needs to be a joke. Something that he can flick back and self-deprecating about at the same time. It's easy to destroy himself. Oh, he knows he's brilliant and can do what he can do. He knows he's the only one that does it. That doesn't mean he's a good person because of it. Doesn't mean that he is saint or deserves much more than he gets. He does it because no one else will. Maybe there's a reason they won't do it.

"And ah, we're colleagues, yeah? Suppose that means I need to deal with some of your baggage while you're dragging mine behind you."

"Maybe not yet. I don't know any of the specifics: what happens, who we're fighting, how I-" She startles just slightly when he brushes those fingers, not calloused exactly, but not smooth either, against her skin. Her voice catches and she shakes her head, even while she's chastising herself for being this distraught over a vision that may not even come true.

It's a strange bit of logic, to be sure: she trusts John and his abilities, because he has years of experience behind them. She doesn't have that same level of experience to back her up, to bolster her confidence. "I wanted to walk that path with you, because I thought I could do it. I thought I could help you, but now I'm not so sure." The last thing she wants is to be the reason John's fight fails.

"I don't think I could live with myself if the time came for the last big fight, and you lose because of me." Never mind that she knows now that she might not survive said big fight, but still. No one wants to be the cause of another person's failure.

And then that part about her stepping on his operating methods sinks in and she laughs a dry sort of laugh. "You never sell yourself short. You're always confident when it matters and more importantly, what you do works." That's the key difference between them, as far as she's concerned. He gets concrete results; she just has visions that are sometimes clear but mostly vague, and if she's questioning the reliability of what she's seeing, that also calls into question her own reliability as a source.

He's right about one thing, though: it's very easy to destroy one's self, to put one's self down. But while Zed knows why he does it, she doesn't believe it's necessary. There's goodness in him even if he can't always see it. And it's telling that he soldiers on even though she's sure he'd like to just stop caring and let the chips fall where they may. Yes, he's the only one who can do the things he does, but she believes that there's a part of him that does what he does because he cares.

Whether he cares for the hundreds of millions of people walking about on Earth, or just a handful of people, it doesn't really matter.

Finally, though, Zed pulls herself back out of her musings just in time to catch John talking about how they're colleagues and how they should share their respective baggage. "You know I'll always be here to help, but if my baggage becomes a distraction, I can't let that happen." He said as much during one of their first meetings, when he got into her place and made himself comfortable on her couch.

It won't be bad memories nipping at your heels, but the scourge of hell gunning for your soul. And when the bell rings, you'd best be ready, willing, and able to answer with something far more deadly than a charcoal pencil.

At the time, she thought she was ready, thought she could be an asset to him, and not just because she knew what to do with a charcoal pencil. Now, though she can't help but feel that all of her confidence has just been called into question.

"I'm sorry, John, I'm- I just need to get my head back on straight. I will, don't worry about that." Just on the off chance that he was questioning her usefulness or anything like that.

If he could express to her what value her visions were to their mission? He would. John really can't. He is absolute shite at anything remotely intimate like this. Being intimate and involved in sexual relations? That's the bloody easy part. The hard boiled emotions? That's the part he struggles with. He can find ways to keep running and running... except now.

This? This he can't run away from. Zed is too much apart of this. He relies on her too much. He could run away back to London, and she'd probably find him sulking in a pub over a pint. Even if there is that part of him that wants to run away like a scared little boy.

He chuckles. Right, confident when it matters. Should he tell her how scared he was when he threatened Lamashtu? How he had no idea if that bet would pay off and endanger those babies lives more? Or how bloody terrified he is of the fact that her tumor is going to kill her? He can act confident and cool, but sometimes, he shakes like a leaf on the inside. He's just learned to hide it.

"Bollocks. If you lot can handle my baggage and it not be a smart decision for you all to pack up and fly off? Yours won't be." John insists. He isn't sure how many more ways he say it to make the point. He doesn't want her to leave. "Besides, you can't leave Chas holding the bag, yeah?"

He sits back down on the table in front of her. His hands remain on her face. Oh, he doesn't plan on going anywhere. Not until they've put this idea to bed.

The thing is, Zed might push him about some things, usually when her temper flares, but one thing she won't push him into is to talk about his feelings if he doesn't want to do that. And she knows now that he doesn't do that very easily. There are lines that can be crossed and some that can't, and she's beginning to work out which is which when it comes to him.

But from where she's standing, all she sees is someone who faces the darkness every day of his life and laughs at it. In her mind, John Constantine just doesn't get scared of anything or anyone. So in that regard, maybe that is something he should tell her, but she'll never ask him about that, even if the window opened and the chance presented itself. And, well, her tumor is something that terrifies her too, but whenever she tries to open her mouth to bring it up, something inside her chokes and she finds she can't get the words out.

But she manages a smile just for his benefit, and she says, "Bollocks yourself, John. I think I knew what I was getting into when I got into this with you, and so does Chas." She knows she shouldn't speak for the other man, but she can't help it when those words just slip right on out.

And then she looks him straight in the eye, as if the look she sees there will either encourage or discourage her from saying the thing that's been on her mind. "I don't want to leave either of you, and you know it. But-" She wants to look away, but his hands are still holding onto her, and she doesn't want to break that hold just yet.

"At the start of it all, did you even want me around?" The words escape her all in a rush, as if she knows that if she waits, she'll lose her resolve to ask that question. She knows she all but barged into his life, and at first, he seemed to begrudge her for it. So now she can't help but wonder if he ever viewed her as an annoyance and if there's even the smallest part of him that regrets making that decision.

"Might need a bit of an English accent if you're going to use our swears, luv. Sounds a bit weird coming out." John forces a grin for her - more humor to lighten the mood.

Chas knew what he was getting into. He has his doubts that Zed really understood it. There's the thing that happened with Gaz, the angels, then there is what happened in Mexico. There's Newcastle. He is damned well determined never to let another Newcastle happen again, but, he also is aware that he can have no control over a situation. As much as he bloody well hates that fact.

"I didn't really want anyone around at the start of anything." He says after a moment. Shit. Honesty. He sighs and lets his shoulders sag. His hands move from her face to her wrists, gently holding her hands in his. His lips press together as he looks away this time. "Not that I wanted to be involved in any of this at the start. Jasper got a hold of an unlucky woman when I was in Ravenscar... sent me a rather vivid message. I'm only involved in this because he needed his daughter protected. Then Manny decided to dangle a carrot in front of my nose... and like a fool, I took the bite."

He knows deep down he'd be involved in this fight with the Rising Darkness. There's nothing that could stop it. His natural inclination to stick his nose where it doesn't belong would of led him straight to the wolves den. At least, this way, there's a long shot at redemption. A way to save Astra from Hell.

She imitates his grin as best as she can, trying to look and sound cocky. "Why do you think I follow you around? I'm not just good with a pencil; I'm a quick study." And then she tilts her head to one side, a mischievous sort of glint coming to her eyes. Let him work that one out. She knows she's just pulling his leg, that the real reason she follows him around isn't to learn his accent, but she can't resist the opportunity.

And he's right, she really didn't understand what she was getting into when she first came on board, and maybe she never will fully grasp it all, but she's trying. Nothing that John does is done on a whim, and as far as she can tell, Chas isn't hanging around just to have a good time. It's serious, and she intends to treat everything surrounding it as such.

"I don't think anyone could blame you." For not wanting people around, for keeping the people who were around at arms' length. She's not accustomed to seeing him like this, with his shoulders sagging and giving her honest answers. There's something else in his expression and his stance that digs at her in a way that makes her frown. Of course he carries a lot of weight on those shoulders of his, but it's easily forgotten when he comes back with a dry sort of quip or smart comment.

"Even some fools can recognize when it might be time to back away." Not everyone, of course, but John's no fool. "What's stopping you from letting go of the carrot and just taking a step back, if that's what you want?" Honestly, she's not really sure what he wants, although she has guesses. The fight won't stop because John steps away, but also, the progress the Rising Darkness makes won't either. In fact, even if she's still a novice in this area, she's willing to bet that it'll only continue to grow and take over.

But something tells her that John wouldn't allow himself to step away, and even if he did, he wouldn't be happy then either. "I meant when I said that I wasn't going anywhere, no matter what you decide to do." And she's confident the same holds true for Chas as well. If John keeps fighting, they'll be with him. If he backs away, they'll be there for that too. It's what friends do.

"Quick study is a bit different from years of being in Liverpool and London." John gives her a forced smile at the imitation. They say it's the best form of flattery, yeah? She's good. She's always been good... too good for any of this shit that he pulls her through.

His fingers trail along the inside of her wrist. Normally, he can stop himself from doing anything that might be a bit intimate. There's just not much in him to do it right now. Her tumor is one thing. The possibility of Manny not sharing all the cards is another. Her seeing her own death? That's... that's not something John thought they'd ever have to deal with. Call him a bit of a romantic hopeless git, but he had hoped she could walk out of this more or less alright. He'd shoulder it all and strut off into the night after the battle was done and she'd be free to live the life she's always wanted. Not this.

Her question isn't one he answers right away. He falls quiet, pressing his lips together, simply holding her wrists and trailing along the veins. Definitely the hands of an artist. They're calloused in unusual places, muscles stronger in different places than someone else. She'd need to change the angle and work from a new perspective after all. What is it inside that won't let him drop the carrot and swan off into the night? Ego? His own salvation? Parts of it, but, not the source. Not at the deep nitty-gritty of things he doesn't want to admit out loud. His cheeks puff for a moment, having to work up the courage to say it.

He's a coward after all. Deep down. He'd run away to save his own skin if he had to -- even if it cost them their lives.

"...Astra."

"Oh, all right, fine." She rolls her eyes and huffs out a sigh, but it's all pretense. She's not really annoyed with him. "I'll leave the accents to you."

Her eyes lock onto those fingers that are trailing along her wrist, and there's wariness in her gaze, just as there is anytime she accidentally touches someone or vice versa. But truthfully, she likes it when John makes contact with her, even with the risk, so she decides to just enjoy it for what it is. As for her vision of her own death, part of her still hopes that it's just something her mind conjured up, that it won't necessarily happen as she saw it. Maybe it's sticking her head in the sand, but she doesn't want to dwell on the possibility that she won't survive this fight.

When John answers her question, part of her thought she should have known that would be the answer. No, she doesn't have all the details about Newcastle and Astra, but she knows enough to know that she'll always be one of John's driving forces, if not the driving force.

"Oh." Her teeth worry at her lower lip while she wonders if she should say what's on her mind. She doesn't often hold back her thoughts, but John is prickly on a good day. In the end, she just goes with it, because even if he lashes out, or reacts with disbelief, she believes he can do it. "You're going to save her, John."

You're going to save her, John.

He's not so sure about that.

How the hell is he going to get her soul free of Hell? He can't very well swap his for hers; he's already on the one way ticket once he finally does push up the daisies. Oh, the damnation bothers him. He's always been of the mindset he'd be on his way there one way or another. The fact that all the lives he's saved doesn't balance it out? That bit gnaws at him. The fact that he can't do anything to make up for Astra keeps him up at night. There's the bit about it because of his own self, but more because he can't make it up to her.

John bites on the inside of his mouth as he squeezes her wrists ever so slightly. He hasn't really talked about it to anyone. Chas knows details, but he doesn't know the damnation bit. John has made sure that no one does. The only one is the one that confirmed it, and he's buggered off with those wings of his. Manny can stay away for a bit more for all John cares. He'd rather not have the angelic sod sniffing around Zed.

"She's in Hell because of me." He finally manages to say. "And I'm damned right along with her. If I can stop this... fight off this Rising Darkness? Then, maybe... just maybe..."

He clicks his tongue at the idea. It's a pipe dream and even he knows it. He could even usher in the Second Coming, hold open the doors for Him, and John figures he'd still be on that ticket to Hell. There's going to be bartering and straight up blackmail if he has to. Heaven isn't getting out of this deal it's made with him. Manny would say it's not a deal, but, it sounded like a deal to John.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

He slides off the table to stand in front of her again. Hands leave her wrists. The hover between them in a rare moment of hesitation. Then, ever so gently, he rests both hands on either side of her face again. It's almost as if he's afraid he might hurt her by simply touching her.

"For now, let's just focus on saving you, yeah?" His voice drops to just above a whisper.

John stands comfortably in her space as if he always has. Part of him has always wondered just how far those visions of hers went about him. Just glimpses of his life, or was she present in the space they took place in? Have any of those visions changed into rather questionable dreams? Plenty of questions and he's certain she wouldn't answer even if he asked. She's got a habit of doing that. Thumbs brush across her cheekbones gently before he leans in and nudges her nose with his.

Maybe it's him asking that she doesn't go out on the terms of her vision. That selfish boyish part of him making a small plea that she stays by his side and fights for her own fate. Because oh, that feathered fuck is right, and he needs her at his side. She props him up just as much as Chas -- maybe more in different ways if he were actually honest with himself.

A beat. Then, he closes the distance and presses his lips against hers.

Truthfully, Zed doesn't know the how of it either, but she's confident that it'll happen somehow. John has skeletons in his closet and his share of what might be considered sins, but from where she's standing, he's no worse than any of them. Everyone makes mistakes, and no one's perfect. Do they all deserve damnation? Of course not. She might not know that John has a one way ticket to hell, but if she did, she'd fight tooth and nail against the devil himself to get John out of it. Why? Because in her mind, he's more than worth it.

When John admits that Astra's in Hell because of him, and that he's also one of the damned, Zed's mouth drops open. But she's quick to close it again, and she fixes him with a determined look. "It doesn't matter. I know you, and I know you'll move mountains to get her out. And, well, if the devil comes calling, do you really think any of us would just you get dragged off?" She's shaking her head. Chas wouldn't, and she definitely won't. Maybe she can put a bug in Manny's ear, or scream in his ear until he gets off his angelic ass and does something to change this. She won't hesitate to do either of those things if it comes down to it.

But when he says that part about saving her, she just raises her eyebrows and sighs. "Weren't you the one who said there's no escaping your fate?" Yes, she's aware that she's most likely being hypocritical, but the treatment for a tumor can be aggressive, and she's not sure she wants to put herself through that because of the other costs of doing so. If she loses her visions, what good is she? And she's not even sure how the two are linked, just that it seems a logical conclusion that they are.

She's about to ask another question when John puts his hands on her face again, and for just a second, she closes her eyes and smiles. He's gentler than one might think, and she's always liked the feel of his hands on her. That brush of his nose against hers gets her to laugh quietly, and she opens her eyes again to look into his.

Words form on the tip of her tongue, but before she can say anything, John's lips are pressing against hers, and suddenly she forgets all about talking, wanting to drink in this moment as if it'll never happen again. It shouldn't happen again, because John has more important things to do with his time, but she's not going to think about that. She's just going to enjoy it, and hope that it's good for him too.

"Matters to quite a few people, luv. You've met what's more or less left of the Newcastle Crew. I'm fairly sure they'd tell you that I deserve it." John's eyebrows perk up slightly. He'll agree right along with them if he's to be truthful. "You can't escape fate but you can muddle bit with destiny and see where it goes."

John will argue that his time is up to him to spend. If he wants to blow it on helping Manny and his plight? He will. If he wants to spend it kissing Zed? He will. No one has ever been able to tell him or dictate to him how to do what he wants. That's what has always infuriated Heaven about him. Hell would of found it endearing if he didn't keep sending their residents back to them. John Constantine somehow manages to piss off everyone in the room by simply standing there, grinning, and letting the cigarette hang from his mouth.

The kiss ends and he presses his forehead to hers gently. A grin sprawls on his face, already mentally patting himself on the back at the idea he's probably been a better kisser than what she's experienced. Although, that thought does make him realize a thing or two.

"Here I thought you wouldn't know the firs thing about kissing, luv. Being of the saintly sort your family is."

"Some of them, maybe. All of them? I don't think so. Sure, none of them said as much, but you don't always need words to say things." Zed tilts her head to one side, a sort of smile crossing her face. Doesn't she know a thing or two about that? She can tell a lot about a person just by making contact with them. There's a reason she's very careful about who she touches and when. "Oh, you mean like we did, our first meeting? Or maybe that was just me." She still believes that meeting John was destiny.

And, well, as to that, she won't argue. In fact, she agrees. John's time is his own, and it's certainly not her place to tell him what to do with it. Still, her more carnal side, the side that enjoys pleasure and pleasurable things, likes having him be this close to her.

He's not wrong to be patting himself on the back; he's a very good kisser, and while Zed doesn't rate her kisses, if she did, she'd rank that one as being way off the charts. Her smirk widens just a fraction at that last comment of his, however.

"You really think I'm that naive?" She huffs out a breath, feigning indignance. "I've kissed before." Has she really, though? She won't be letting on either way; no point in giving him the satisfaction. "My family might call themselves saintly. I don't." And although she doesn't say it in so many words, she's including herself in that.

"As I recall, Zed, that was a bit more of you insisting to hang off my arm. Not many people get into the honeymoon suite I'm in without the invitation first. Rather forward for a first meeting, don't you think?"

There's that one simple little thing about Zed: she has some mystical magnetic pull over him. Something that makes it so either he or she just simply end up in the other's space. One is always there to fill the gaps left by the other. In a lot of ways, she feels like she's always been there along side him and Chas. Maybe with those nosy visions of hers she has been.

"I think you don't trust others enough to let them saunter up and kiss you." John corrects gently, his eyebrows raised up just slightly. "Especially being the tactile psychic you are. Even the briefest touch sets you off, luv. Which, given the right circumstance, might be a bit of fun."

They're far from saintly. They are more along the lines of fanatics trying to bring about a world view that doesn't exist. Much like any sort of fanatic of any thought or creed.

He brushes some of the curls away from her cheek. "You couldn't be that saintly if you decided to stick it out with me."

"Insisting? Hanging off your arm?" She chuckles at that. "Was that before or after you broke into my place and made yourself comfortable on my couch? I don't really remember, you know. Details like that have a funny way of running off." She knows full well how it happened, but a tease is a tease. "Maybe that's just how I do business. There isn't always time to get an invitation."

Or she just doesn't make time for that, either way.

"Aren't you preaching to the choir just a bit?" Yes, of course, she was only teasing about that kissing line. "Last time I looked, I was the one who had to deal with whatever happens when someone gets a little too handsy. It's not usually fun for either of us, but I don't know if I need to remind you of that." She's still not quite sure just what John thinks about the accidental glimpse she got into his inner workings that one time, but she's made a point of ensuring it doesn't happen again if she can help it. Next time something like that does occur, it'll be with his permission. Really.

"Are you saying you might want to have a little fun, given the right circumstance?" Never mind that there's a war on, to use his words, with the Rising Darkness and all that.

She offers him just the ghost of a smile in response to his brushing those stray curls away, and she adds: "Whoever the saintliest person on earth is, I wouldn't even be able to stand next to them. Just saying." She shrugs, and she keeps her tone purposefully casual, her words off-hand, but for all of that, she means it too. "Who knows, maybe you just attract a certain crowd."

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· CALL ME OUT (WINTER) ·

❄️ WINTER

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