"Fucking Bastard."

There's always that sense of dread running into someone you attribute to ruining your life with. For John, that seemed to be an everyday thing. There were always people who treated him like shit, really because he was shit. That bitterness stayed with him, and understandably why.

"You should've let me take the swing, Chas," he's angry, and rightfully so. Chas knows the guy,knows he put a sour taste in John's mouth. That he…well, did things. John was never knows for healthy relationships, but abusive was something he tended to stray away from. And really, you'd think ten years would be enough to get John to let go.

"You would have gotten yourself in trouble, he's not worth it," wise words from his only friend besides Zatanna and Zed. But it shows he cares, at least. "John you need to calm down."

"He fucking…you know what he did. Bastard's lucky I wasn't as good as I am now. I would 'ave killed him," the mill house is a great place to let out some steam, and it seems to help. Zed said she'd be there soon, the entire ordeal happened during her art class.

John just wanted food.

Which, really, is a normal human thing. Chas cooks all the time, maybe he felt bad and wanted to give him a break. Thought some hokey catfish grill would be a good idea, hell, he's British, a majority of people who hate him are in England. He can get away with running around and leaving his face free to the world. Or so he thought.

Just one look at the bastard was all it took. John was perhaps twenty two when it happened, still rising up on the punk scene and getting himself noticed. He had a few girlfriends, mostly just Americans who wanted a man with a sexy accent and the occasional boy just wanted a play date. Really, John was the same way, not ready to settle down or make easy with anyone. Gary introduced them, they needed a bassist again after the last one OD'd and vowed a life of celibacy and went on a path to Jesus, probably the same bloke who got Beano head over heels for God after the Newcastle incident. John didn't blame them, really, but the new one…well…He was a damn looker.

American tourist, wanted to be a punker but Chas knew right off the bat he was bad news. And John should have fucking listened. Damn it.

The first night wasn't bad, but John made some snide joke and got a light smack. He thought it was playful, but really this man was controlling and violent. John was used to that, nineteen years in Liverpool built up his immunity to abuse and threats, until the unthinkable happened.

Maybe it was a month into the relationship, John staying out of fear and he knew what he was getting himself into. Towards the end of a night out John gave a bird too much of a stare, and jealousy overtook his lover and next thing he knew he was drugged pantsless in a ditch outside the same bar. He knew Chas eventually had enough and managed to break any bone he could get his hands on, but really, John couldn't handle it.

And now he saw him again, that same dark hair and those same green eyes taking orders in a dinky restaurant in Atlanta. Old wounds were rubbed and thankfully Chas had the good thought of getting John out as quickly as he could.

But the trap was all the same.

"Is he alright?" there's always that easy way to know when Zed was in the millhouse, her steps were always heavier with her art supplies and whatever else she thought would look great in a spooky place like this.

"He's fine. Leave off it."

"John."

"Wot?"

"This ever happen before?" Good question, Zed. "I mean…I know-"

"You told 'er?" there's a glare straight at Chas, and it's obvious that John's not happy being caught between these two like an awkward outsider. "I didn't want anyone to know."

"Well I do," John grumbles as she sits down, but it's obvious he doesn't mind the closeness. Not anymore, really. He's letting down those walls, and eventually Zed might be able to get him to crack. She knows how close he is to Chas, but hell, even having a garbage bag as a friend seems to have its benefits. Really, John and Chas are all she has. Affection isn't his thing, but it seems he accepts the hand carding in his hair and just lets her do her thing. Seems to work out more. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine, love. Jus'…fuck y'know?"

"It was traumatic," Chas chiming in gets a scowl but nothing more. The larger man sits opposite Zed, sandwiching John between them. There's a low noise rom the brit but it all seems fine when Chas leans over to bring Zed closer, effectively squishing him between them. Though unused to the affection, John's never received it from anywhere else. Chas says nothing more, and neither does Zed. It seems to be enough.

And really, what was the point of dwelling on it? The past is past, and what happened isn't a definer for who he is. There's some security in knowing that there's safety with these two. And maybe that's really all that matters.