The fight never ends
She sat on the couch under the window leaning over to watch the rain fall down outside, it had started to get really heavy about an hour ago. Zatanna knew if she did anything but this she was going to fall apart. She was barely holding it together most of the time. The problem with the end of the world was that it cost you too much to fix it. She had paid a heavy price and so had John but today it felt like she was the only one living with the pain and it was tearing her apart.
She leaned down to pick up her phone, but nothing. No messages, no sign of life. She breathed out a sigh and placed it back down. She wasn't sure whether or not she should be the first to reach out but she knew John. He'd be handling all of this in his own way and it wouldn't be in a healthy way. She knew John, self-destruction was what he did best but she couldn't save him this time around, not when she felt like she could barely save herself. Zatanna was never weak, never one to fall apart not even when she'd felt her father's life drain from his body.
She held it together because it was what the world needed of her, at least that's what she kept telling herself. The truth was though that she knew if she let herself fall apart she'd never be able to pick herself up again. Zatanna was strong, and stubborn to a fault. She and John had that in common.
Eventually, she rose and walked toward the kitchen where she poured herself a very strong cup of coffee and looked around. The house practically cried for her and she felt it. The sadness radiating from her had seeped into its walls, its foundations...
She sighed.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, she nodded her head in assent. The house was begging her to be anywhere else but here. She knew where it'd draw her but she couldn't bring herself to refuse it. The pull in her was evidently strong enough for her own house to beg her to give in to it.
It was strange, as the sensation hit her, she heard her phone buzz to life and she walked over to pick it up again. On the screen were three words: I'm sorry, Zee.
Oh, John. What have you done to yourself this time?
Dive bars in London were backstreet pubs that had less than savory characters so they held a lot in common with their American counterparts. Still, John preferred home to being in America. The only thing that he ever wanted to go there for was her anyway and he doubted that she wanted to see him today of all days. John Constantine was more than aware of the price of their saving the universe. It weighed heavily on him day after day, and he felt the same pain and agony that she did only he didn't handle it well.
His trenchcoat was splattered in blood, the beer in his hands was weak as piss and he stared at it in distaste before he looked back at the bartender and beckoned him over with a single finger in one of those come here motions. He had a face like thunder.
He shoved it back toward the man as he moved to stand in front of John and John let out a bitter laugh. "You call this beer?" he sneered, "tasted stronger water than this mate. How about you get me a real drink, eh?"
The bartender studied his blooded-up look and John could tell that he wanted to reach for the phone and call the police, he shook his head in warning. "Not a good idea," he promised. "Just get me my damn drink." He'd have no problems if he just got him a nice strong shot of whiskey or ten.
Naturally, he wondered what she was doing right now, he picked his phone out of his pocket and he turned it around a few times in his hand before he sighed and shoved it back in, picking up the drink that had been placed in front of him and he downed it immediately before ordering another. He was hardly sober but then he'd been drinking since the turn of Midnight. It was now roughly six or seven in the morning. He wasn't even sure. Thank God for these 24-hour joints that catered to the city's drunks.
With shots 2 and 3 down, John was starting to feel the pounding in his head but he was ignoring it. He didn't care. He just wanted to drown in the pain. All he cared about was drowning in the pain because he deserved it, he was a self-pitying son of a bitch.
He took his phone out of his pocket again and typed out at least four different messages before he just settled on an apology that wouldn't even start to fix a modicum of the pain he knew that she was feeling today because he felt it too. He placed his phone down on the top of the bar and pulled out his wallet. He studied the picture that he kept there and he ran his finger down it, his lips curled into a watery smile. He flexed his jaw and repeated the mantra over and over in his mind that what was done was done before he shoved it back into his pocket and downed another shot.
What did he expect from today? Maybe he should've just slept it away. That would've been smart but nope, he'd picked fights, he'd taken on a bloody demon and now he sat in some backstreet pub drowning his sorrows. It was pathetic. This was the only way that he knew to deal with pain though. He wasn't good at emotions or at least he wasn't good at dealing with them. Or feeling them if he was honest with himself.
He practically fell off the barstool as he slammed down the money to pay for his drinks, he picked up his phone and staggered toward the door knowing all too well that once he was out of the establishment its noble barman was going to call the police but he didn't much care. It wasn't his problem.
He stood in the alley unsteady on his feet and he rubbed his hands together as he tried his best to remember the words to open a portal to get back to his flat. He could walk true enough but he wasn't sure that he could get there without finding some kind of fight or another and given his present state of mind, he knew that was a really, really bad idea.
His spell failed, the air crackled but did little else.
John slicked his lips and cleared his throat as he tried again. He managed it this time albeit just about. He fell through and rather ungraciously fell face-first into his couch. It could be worse he supposed. At least it was a soft landing.
He tried to ignore the wave of nausea that hit him as his head hit the cushions though and he failed miserably. John threw himself to his feet and fell over just about everything else on his way into his bathroom. Maybe drinking all day hadn't been such a good idea after all. Well, he'd known that already but it seemed like a really good idea at the time.
He heard footsteps outside of the door and his kettle clicked on, he staggered to his feet and just about muttered something that sounded like an intelligible threat before he was met with a pair of incredulous eyes and she sighed.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself," she ordered, "I'm going to make you a very strong coffee then you and I are going to talk." She sounded stern.
He considered telling her for a moment how he loved it when she bossed him around but even he knew that was a bad idea. John nodded his head in agreement before making his way toward the couch and sitting down with far more coordination than he thought himself capable of. He had a stupid grin on his face that displayed how proud he was of himself for being able to accomplish this particular feat given his rather pissed-up state.
Zatanna sighed as she studied him and she shook her head. Just as she'd suspected, John was handling this just about as bad as she was only she was showing it far less than he was. He was acting like a stupid teenager but she knew pointing that out would result in an argument she had neither the time nor the energy for.
She placed the cup down - loudly - in front of him and she smirked as he winced at the sound. "There's no booze in there," she noted just in case he thought that she might've slipped something in there to ease his suffering. She hadn't.
He needed to sober up. She couldn't talk to him when he was in that state.
"Don't make me sober you up, John. Drink the damn coffee." She could and he knew it. She could use her magic to do it and it wouldn't be a pleasant experience so he was far better doing it the regular way. "I've ordered you food, it'll be here soon. If you think I'm going to cook for your self-pitying ass you're seriously wrong."
Yep, Zee was pissed. John should've expected as much. He nodded his head to show her that he understood but immediately he wished that he hadn't. He groaned and put his hand against his head before he reached out to drink the boiling hot drink. He suspected that she'd added a touch of heat to it on purpose to teach him a lesson. It burned against his lips and his tongue as he drank it.
"Didn't think I'd see you today," he admitted with a sigh as he held the cup in his hands. He suspected if he put it down she was going to yell at him and he couldn't handle that right about now. "Thought you'd want to avoid me."
"I did," she replied, "I wholly thought about avoiding you but I couldn't. It didn't matter how much I wanted to, I was drawn here and I suppose something thought that we should talk. That maybe we had something that could-"
"Comfort each other?" he interjected. She looked down but nodded her head anyway. "I wish there was something I could say or do, Zee," he spoke softly. "I know you hate today because I do, too. It hurts like hell. Usually, I'd say that I deserve whatever pain life throws my way but this is different."
"There is something we can do, John. You know there is. Maybe it's time," she whispered. She couldn't bring herself to sound hopeful but he could read the desperation and the pain in her voice. "Please John, I can't keep doing this. We need to fix it. It's not like before, it's safer."
The world wasn't ending anymore. They'd saved it. They deserved to end this pain of theirs.
It was time. It had to be time.
"Alright love," he replied as he reached out to take her hand as she sat opposite him. "What can we do?"
Clearly, she had a plan, clearly, she'd looked into this and thought it out because otherwise, she wouldn't be sitting here proposing to him that they do something to fix all of this. Zatanna was a smart woman, the smartest that he'd ever met. She had a plan, he knew her well enough to know that.
She smiled and at that moment he knew he was right.
Ah hell. What did they have to lose?