"Where's Chas?", asked Zed. John was helping her to lay on her bed. She was discharged from the hospital and she could go home, and right now, the only home she knew was that house.
"He's with his daughter. But he called, asking about you." John knew sometimes his friend wanted to split himself in two so he could take care of everyone and everything. It didn't matter if John felt that way too, Chas's former wife would never allow too much of John in their daughter's life. So, he decided to stay with Zed, who didn't put much effort to fight him anymore. Right now, she was a little bit dizzy thanks to all the medicine doctors injected in her, so he was trying to guide her to bed. "The two of us took the day off to become nurses."
"You don't have to be my baby sitter, John", said Zed, making herself comfortable between the sheets.
"Don't you think I would be great with a sponge bath while wearing a white skirt?" John pretended to be laughed, but it was a weak laugh. John didn't want to worry her or exhaust her, especially now, but he needed to know. The despair and curiosity of getting no answers, of trying to be patient were crawling inside him, ripping his chest to free themselves."Zed", he called, mild, "do you remember what happened in the hospital? Do you remember what you told me?"
"No, I can barely remember anything at all after… The accident." Zed sighed. "They gave me so many drugs." John felt his mouth going dry as ashes. He had hope there was some detail about his mother that Zed left out because she was too tired to keep talking, but she would tell him as soon as she get better. "Why? Did I say something?" Zed's eyes went wild. Great, John, now she's alert when she was supposed to rest. John mentally patted himself on the back. Classy. John shrugged, trying to look relaxed.
"Oh, y'know, I think the doctor was flattered when you tried to kiss him." Zed looked surprised for a second, then she smiled. "Sleep, love", said John, his voice low and hoarse, "you need to rest."
Zed turn to her side, her eyes closing.
"Goodnight, John."
"'night, love. I'll be downstairs if you need me." Her breath slowed almost immediately. John didn't leave the room right away; he stayed a little, waiting to see if she was okay. He thought, not for the first time, about kissing her, how it would be to lean in and touch her lips; her passion, her anger, her inconditional and whole heart love to care and worry and accept no matter what he did, no matter what he had done. He thought about how many times he had kissed a lover, but somehow, this time it looked different. It seemed to him that if he kissed her, he would taint her, because he would give to her a piece of him, and that piece, being hers, would ruin her, since he hated every part of him and didn't want to hate her when she would become a part of him. He reconsiderated it, as the thought wasn't quite right. He would never be able to hate her, no matter what she did, even though he knew she would never do something bad, no matter how alike she thought they were. If he tainted her, he would hate himself, even more than he already did. He leaned in and brushed his lips on her forehead; delicate, light, words no one would believe could be associate to John Constantine. She sighed, but didn't wake up. He turned off the light beside the bed, left the room, closed the door and waited downstairs, sitting on a sofa.