Smoke, Drink And Learn To Love
~By TravelingThroughTime
Summary: He hasn't had half as much sex as he'd like. John feels like he's alone, always drowning the world out with drugs and bitterness. But someone's there, standing in his doorway wanting to love him. Pre-Movie One Shot.
Dr. Archer's voice is the echo that breaks the silence in the office.
"So, you're really worried about your lungs?" she muses, watching him reach for yet another cigarette.
"Yeah." he coughs.
"I keep trying to tell you John, th-"
"This habit of mine has got to end. Yeah, I've heard it."
"Then when do you plan on ending it?"
"When I end." he says bitterly.
"Oh." she leans back against the squeaky leather, annoyed by and tired of his cold nature. "John, what's the point of all this counseling if you won't let it work?"
"Gives me something to do when I'm not busy." he exhales a smog of nicotine through the air.
"Have you thought about a hobby?"
"Fuck hobbies."
"It's 'fuck' everything with you."
"You're my doctor, not my damn mother."
"Then listen to my advice."
"It's easier said than done." he snaps.
"You won't try, John. And until you do, you're well on your way to getting some incurable disease."
He stands up and she watches him head for the door. There, he pauses briefly to give her one final phrase with a sneer.
"I'm already fucked. Might as well enjoy the cigarettes while I'm still here."
He walks through the corridor of Ravenscar. He's been down these unpromising hallways too many times for his own good. It's been hell, just simply hell. All the memories; they'll forever be here with him, plaguing the dark thoughts that keep him under the thumb of misery.
All this month it's been constant calls from Hennessey to flush lost souls out of houses, giving to them salvation and a path to the other world and receiving none for himself in return. Afterwards, it's the frequent and somewhat pointless visits to Ravenscar, a place that gives him some small pinch of hope that he can find some for himself. And let us not forget Gabriel, all the so-called advice he casts upon the exorcist; only feeding him further words of bitter sarcasms and filling him with more doubt.
The ride home in the back of Chas's cab; what a convenience it is to have some kid drive you anywhere you want. He sometimes wonders to himself if Chas has any other meaning for existence other than being his cabby and apparent apprentice.
"So, where to boss?" the kid asks. Always with the asking: Where to boss?
"Home." John replies while fingering in his coat for a fresh cigarette.
So, he's brought home to his apartment and dropped off. Chas, who conveniently lives on the other end of the hall, goes into his own dwelling where he lives with his hard working mother. John may be hard on the kid, but he has something that John doesn't: A mother's love.
So how does it feel to be used by someone? John Constantine knows. Just ask his countless ex-girlfriends and even the current flings he considers now. But if you ask him how it feels to be loved unconditionally for who he is, he'll scowl at you, shake his head in disgust and walk away because John Constantine has not felt this kind of love in a very long time, if ever. But if anyone was to try and love him, he'd likely shut them out. He always does. Love is just another word for sympathetical bullshit to him.
Now he's rummaging through the cupboards for that other thing that he considers a substitute for emptiness….hard liquor. But he finds he's out of the fix and it brings him to utter one of his favorite words,
"Shit."
He steps out into the dark night streets, wandering down the sidewalks by himself. He hails a taxi and the middle-aged cabby drives him halfway to his destination.
The car stops and this is where John gets out, strides past crowded downtown streets and paces down dark alleys until he's standing in front of some big, half-breed oaf who holds up a card.
"Two frogs on a bench." John says.
With that, John is in and he makes way for the bar. The place may be full of half-breeds that he can't stomach, but he still likes the essence. A place for outcasts, broken hearts, criminals and guys like John who just need a decent swig of vodka.
He wonders to himself, thinking of all the women who's used him for their own selfish pleasures; could anyone out there be willing to face hell with him? He thinks it a dumb enough question, but why not? These soppy romance tales had to come from somewhere didn't they? Aren't there people out there who really care? He thinks God doesn't, so why can't he find comfort in the love of a faithful woman, if such a creature exists between heaven and hell?
He continues musing himself, half-leaned against the comfort of the bar, two snickerers passing jokes on one side of him and a drunken fellow zoned out on the other.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her. She's standing between two other females, each of them gossiping away at God-knows-what; but she's not speaking with them. Instead, she's standing there and staring at him. She's one of them no doubt, but there's something about her other than her skimpy fish-net dress that captivates him and he doesn't know why. Could it be her devious grin? Maybe her long brown hair? Maybe her flaming hazel eyes? He doesn't know, but she's damn beautiful for something so sinister.
Then come those longing questions again, beating against his brain like a fist on his door. He wonders if she's like him, if there's more to her than a pretty face and a great body. He wonders if she, like him, has a past of her own and if the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye is merely a shield to hide that past and keep it from slipping out on a good night. He wants to find out what's behind that smile, those twinkling eyes, wants to talk to her somewhere that isn't a dark glib of paraded hell, wants to know how she thinks about the hope of seeking salvation for one's own sins against them self.
She becomes impatient watching him staring blankly at her and decides to approach him first. Her movement is like a tigress stalking prey.
The closer she gets, the more he recognizes her. That one half-breed who stands out from the rest. She's the one who doesn't fit in as well as the others. She's the one who makes her own rules and tells anyone who doesn't like it to shove it. He remembers the simple fact that he rather likes her raw, badass attributes.
She stands before him, holding in her hand a flute of red wine.
"I'm Ellie." she grins.
"Constantine." he replies with little expression.
"I know." she states. "I've heard a lot about you."
"You want something?" there he goes being rude again.
"Not me, but you look like someone who could use a drinking partner."
"Do I?"
"Pretty much." she points out.
He grins slightly, almost intrigued by her opinionated outlook on him.
"But this bar's too crowded." she sighs. "Come with me?"
"Where?" he asks with some suspicion.
"Just come on." she takes his hand and begins to lead him out the back and he's still wondering where they're going and why he's letting some strange girl, a half-breed at that, lead him out of the club and into some dark parking lot.
She reveals to him that the red convertible is hers, and even though it's an old model, it's shiny and it's new and she makes it look good.
She taps her fingers on the hood and turns to look at him. He merely lifts a brow and she already knows what he's wanting to ask.
"Let's go for a ride." she suggests.
"A ride, huh?" he muses.
"Come on." she says, slipping into the drivers seat and letting the top down.
He hesitates for a second but then gives in.
"What the hell?" he asks himself loosely.
He's sitting beside her now and she's cranking up the car.
"So, where we headed?" he asks her.
"Anywhere but this joint." she explains, looking at him coyly.
"Sounds like a plan." he merely comments.
The car begins to move and work its way onto the streets. Before he knows it, it's way past midnight and they're still driving with the top down. The wind makes her hair move like something he's never seen before. He doesn't know her well, except what little he's heard from Midnite, and she's far more mysterious than he's comfortable with. But there's something in her that makes him feel alive, like he wants to live for the good of life for once and he doesn't quite know what it is about her that makes him feel that way. Wherever they're going, he doesn't care just as long as he has the mysterious brunette by his side. He thinks he'll give her the chance to prove different from the other whores. Maybe in this one, he'll find something worth his while.
The End.
Author's Notes: This is something I wrote two months ago and I revised it and finally decided to post it. It bothered me that Ellie's scenes were cut from the movie and I became curious about her relationship with John Constantine, so I guess this was my attempt to settle that.