Blessed are the damned
A/N: Because I love little scenes of comfort after the hurt, filled with dialogues.
John finds something in his bag to wrap the heart in and puts it in the trunk of Zed's car. The psychic is still shaken, practically unresponsive, not sure what's happened. John puts his coat on her shoulders and leads her to the car, then sits behind the wheel and drives straight to the camp. They don't talk, Zed basically out of it, so John assembles their tent while trying to keep a close eye on her. She sits still on the passenger seat, leaning on the window and staring straight ahead. He knows she's shaking a little.
He gets their possessions on the backseat, makes sure the heart is safe in the corner of the trunk and starts the engine again. He glances at Zed from time to time and tries to concentrate on the road; he doesn't talk, only a slight movement of his facial muscles indicates that he's grinding his teeth and thinking intensely.
"You radiate worry, you know that?" Zed asks suddenly, not looking at him and John huffs.
He smiles at her. "I can guess what you're going through right now, luv," he admits. "The next few days won't be easy for you, prepare for nightmares."
"I don't see anything. I mean, my mind is blank," she confesses with a slight shake of her head, still looking ahead.
"Give it time. You're shaken, I'm sure you'll be alright," he assures her and pats her hand lying on her thigh.
She turns to him, still leaning her head on the window. "How do you know all this? I mean, I know it's your job, but you're like an encyclopedia," she admits.
John barks out a short laugh and grips the steering wheel a little bit tighter. "Knowledge is everything, luv," he replies with a glance at her and a raised eyebrow. "The greatest mistakes come from ignorance."
Silence falls between them; John regrets the last sentence the moment it leaves his mouth. He frowns; his grip on the steering wheel is so tight that his knuckles turn white. He's not sure how much Zed knows about Astra and he's not willing to tell the full story now. He's sure he's told it to Liv and it was one time too many.
"So, you know," she states after a short while, still looking at him. "Angels exist, demons, ghouls... It basically means Christianity is based on facts."
"To some extent, it is," John admits. "To be honest, it depends on culture," he adds with a small wave of his hand, still focused on the road; he relaxes slightly as Zed doesn't push the topic of his ignorance. "If we were, let's say, in Tibet, we would see proof Buddhism is real. We would face entirely different problems."
"Mm," Zed hums and turns towards the front of the car again.
They drive in silence for a while.
"So, this angel of yours... how does he look like?" she asks.
"Dark skin, grey clothes, golden eyes," John counts out and shrugs. "Something tells me you'll meet him in person one day."
Zed takes a deep breath and John braces for the difficult question he knows she's going to ask. "What exactly happened when Imogen..." she starts and chokes, unable to finish.
"Manny took over and killed her," John explains shortly, putting a definite dot at the end of the sentence – he doesn't want to elaborate.
"He took over my body," Zed realises and breathes out. She glances at John again and notices the spasms of his jaw muscles. John is grinding his teeth again.
"Not for the first time. It's a lovely habit of his," John grinds out, forcing himself to relax.
"And he can do it every time he wants?" Zed inquires.
"Probably," John replies with a one-sided shrug.
"Did he ever take over you?"
"No, because he's not supposed to directly interfere, as he likes to claim. He does that with others to annoy me, mostly," John replies and silently prays for Zed to drop the subject. He doesn't want to think about the helplessness he felt when Imogen was strangling Zed and Manny disappeared. He knows he almost cried at that moment, watching Zed die and he was fully aware there was nothing he could have done. He had no chance against an angel, fallen or not. Imogen would easily kill them both.
He feels Zed's hand on his shoulder and he flinches, surprised. The hand remains on the spot.
"I'm okay, John," she assures him and John suddenly hits the brakes and stops the car on the side of the road.
He leans forward with his forehead on the steering wheel and breathes deeply.
Zed, startled by his reaction, keeps her hand on him and stares at him with wide eyes.
John has his eyes closed, his head still bowed; it takes a short while for him to calm down.
Then he just sighs, opens his eyes, straightens, grinds his teeth again and joins the traffic without a word.
He doesn't react to Zed's hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck. Despite the fact he's not exactly tactile, the touch helps him stay focused. He knows he's just exposed himself to her, but she seems to recognise his uneasiness and doesn't push him. She just... remains there. With her hand on his neck.
John clears his throat when he feels his short breakdown will be put in the past and forgotten. "I'd want to drop off the heart at the millhouse before I drive you to your flat," he says. Zed startles a little, his voice loud in the silence of the car.
"I won't let you take my car," she threatens, but there's no heat in her voice.
"I won't, I'll take a taxi back to the millhouse."
"How about I drop you and the heart off at the millhouse and drive home myself?"
"I'd rather not have you drive on your own, luv."
"I'll be fine, I promise, John."
He glances at her. She seems collected now, some colours returned to her face.
"You sure?" he asks.
"Yes," she replies and takes her hand off his neck; she turns towards the side window and looks out, not really seeing anything.
He feels his hair stand up in the vacated spot. He already misses her touch.
They drive for a few more minutes in silence.
"Try maybe to sleep a little, eh?" John suggests.
Zed snorts. "What a mother hen you are, I wouldn't expect it," she replies, smiling at him.
"I learn from the best," John quips.
"Chas, huh?"
"You have no idea," John replies with a fond smile.
"It's nice, isn't it? Have someone to take care of you, to worry about you."
John hums but that's it. He doesn't say that people caring about him or for him to care about are a burden, something to lose, something he would have to grieve for later. He doesn't say anything about his morning ritual, him imagining everyone dead. Zed seems to know what she's gotten herself into, but it doesn't ease John's worry. Even watching Chas die – or knowing he's going to die – is not easy despite numerous lives Chas has. John is aware Chas is going to return to life in a few hours, but every soul lost is one soul closer to his permanent death. One day John will lose the only friend that stands beside him through good and bad.
"I can hear its beating," Zed confesses. John listens closely and can hear it, too, over the sound of the car engine, that 'thump thump', muffled, but there, in the back of the car.
John doesn't say anything and quickly searches through a compartment to find a CD. He looks at the title on the disc.
"Ugh." He cringes and puts the CD in the player. Mellow tunes of Zed's favourite pop music start and the psychic smiles, relaxed. John tries to hide his disdain, but unsuccessfully.
"You left some of your music here, you can put something else in, if you want," Zed suggests, glancing at him.
John ignores her. Zed turns away from him again and starts to think.
Angels. Fallen angels. Ghouls. Miracles. Beating hearts of pure evil.
And John: caring about Imogen and then her, worrying, fighting for others, knowing it's all real. That coat on the shoulders, steady touch softly leading towards a safe place. That quiet voice and calm eyes during conversation. That urge to risk his life for others.
And disdain over other people's beliefs. The certainty that God doesn't care about them, that humans are left on their own.
'He's so bitter because he knows,' Zed realises and glances at his profile again, the sharp lines of his face, wrinkles around his eyes, pale and slightly grey hue of his skin because all his smoking, the straight nose, spiky blond hair. There's the air of arrogance around him most of the time, he lets her catch the glimpses of his good, open, caring heart only sometimes, during a crisis. He's not handsome, but he catches the eye. He's not nice, but you can't help but like him when you know him better. He's a manipulator, a real bastard when given an opportunity, but he's perfectly able to put in the music he openly hates to make you feel better.
"What?" John asks.
"Nothing," Zed replies and looks through the windshield again, smiling with one corner of her lips.
'You're not that mysterious, John Constantine,' she thinks and allows herself to sleep for the rest of the ride, the beating of the fallen angel's heart in the trunk drowned by her music playing quietly.