(A/N): Happy Tuesday! This time, we're back in District Four after that surprise twist we threw at you last time we were here. BstnStrng13's John is amazing as usual.

Thanks to the writers who reviewed for your continuing support. And thanks also to SlimSummers2002 ("why Bruce is sad" is really a whole essay :P) and to TheRaspberryVigilante41 (we love our slow-burn ships over here; we really do. We're seriously thrilled that you're so emotionally invested in all the characters, because all of our writers have put so much effort into making them the best they can be!)


Chapter Fifty-Four - Spurned

John Constantine

District Four

Written by BstnStrng13


"You were as much in my hands as water, darkness or nothing can ever be held." Jeff Foucault, from "Northbound 35"

"When the sun has set, no candle can replace it." George R.R. Martin

John wiped the perspiration off his forehead and surveyed the progress on the bridge with satisfaction. It was good to be swinging a hammer under the mid-morning sun instead of swinging his axe in battle. The sky was a cloudless blue, a light breeze brushed cool air across his face, and his muscles felt strong and limber. Plus, after so many weeks of seeing the destruction caused by Hydra, it was good simply to build something.

Hydra had not discriminated among the sectors of District Four when they had launched their bombs. Asgard, Atlantis, and the Amazons had all sustained damage to their infrastructures, and the small bridges that spanned dozens of narrow channels throughout Four had been particularly hard hit. John had been spending much of his time with the citizens of Four on reconstruction projects, piling rocks into piers, hammering lumber, and generally putting the strength he'd developed in his new body to a worthy use.

He liked it. The people of Four were welcoming, and it was not unusual for one of the work crew to extend John a dinner invitation at the end of the day. He learned that he was of interest to them, the tribute from Twelve who had friends in the inner circles of the Atlanteans, Asgardians and Amazons. They wanted to hear his impressions of Four, talk about the Games, and even (for a few bolder souls) ask what it was like to have been brought back via the Tahiti program.

John appreciated their kindness and did his best to provide answers, even while it required him to develop a new set of diplomatic skills. Because, inevitably, the dinner conversation would arrive at the same subject:

"So, tell me, lad," the grizzled Asgardian warrior (or Atlantean diver or elegant Amazon matron) would say, leaning forward with a smile. "Asgard (or Atlantis or Amazon) was the true hero of the battle, yes? Hydra would have vanquished Four if not for our people."

John would stare at the platter of beautifully prepared fish, tempted to reply that the victory actually belonged to a battalion of stylists who had a talent for explosives as well as a great eye for color.

His host would then nudge John's elbow and add, "This is just between you and me, lad. I understand that you wish to remain friendly with all. But you can tell me; it will not leave this house."

And, in desperation, John would call on his sleight of hand skills to levitate the fish platter, make knives disappear, or cause some equally amusing distraction in an effort to change the subject.

The bridge he was working on today was nearly completed, so there was no crew plying him with questions. Only he and Kaldur were there, securing the last planks onto the cross-beams and testing the bridge for soundness.

John had been surprised when Kaldur had volunteered to join him. The diver had been busy with Diana, trying to finalize the details of Four's leadership in a way that satisfied all the leading families. With the heat of the battle behind them, it was proving difficult, despite the revelation that Di carried the blood of both the Amazons and the Asgardians in her veins. John had been present for some of the discussions and knew that the Atlanteans were concerned about their representation in the future of Four. From what he'd seen of Arthur Curry, he had a feeling the man would not easily accept compromises.

Kaldur was uncharacteristically quiet this morning and John wondered if the negotiations were wearing on him. He'd never been boisterously chatty like Thor, but he and John typically maintained a pattern of easy conversation when they worked together. Today, however, the diver was silent as he dragged boards and nailed them down with half-hearted strokes. Several times, he stopped working altogether and looked at John as if he wanted to say something, only to resume hammering.

After an hour, John began to think that Kaldur's reticence wasn't due to concern for the negotiations but instead about John personally. He worried that he'd committed some offense and Kaldur had joined him to correct him — albeit reluctantly. John knew he was not well-educated in Four's customs; it was very possible that he'd upset a host at one of the dinners. Who could be certain? Maybe levitating seafood was considered disrespectful.

Finally, Kaldur laid down his hammer. "Can we talk?"

His eyes were hesitant and filled with something that John recognized as empathy. A chill ran down his spine, despite the warm sunshine. This is more serious than a small offense, he thought. I'm going to be told I can't stay. Kaldur's going to thank me for all I've done but tell me that Four's leading families feel I should return to my own district.

John swallowed hard. "Okay."

Kaldur walked over and lowered himself to sit on the side of the bridge, tugging on John's arm to pull him alongside. Nervous, John gazed at his feet, dangling a few feet above the channel. The water's not deep, he ruminated. If I fall, I'll bet it's only up to my chest. Whatever happens, I won't drown.

He turned to look at Kaldur.

The diver cleared his throat. "You are aware that Diana and I have been attempting to unite Four under a single leader."

John nodded.

"You've been in some of the discussions; you also know that it has not been easy," Kaldur continued. "Diana is the logical choice, despite her youth. The Amazons and Asgardians believe she will speak for them because of her blood. And she has demonstrated her courage and wisdom both in the Games and in the war against Hydra."

John nodded again. She's certainly done that.

"But my people, the Atlanteans, have resisted. They do not believe they will carry as much import in her thoughts because they have no blood tie to her."

"Then they don't know her very well," John said quickly, forgetting for a moment his worries about his own future. Di would do what was right for all of Four. Anyone with a brain should be able to see that.

Kaldur's concerned look disappeared, and he smiled. "No," he agreed. "They don't." Then, his smile faded as he took off his work gloves and placed them in his lap. "They do not know her the way you and I do, and they wrongly question her integrity. But Arthur Curry has proposed a solution to bring our people together, and Diana and I believe it is a good one."

"Really? Well, that's great news." When Kaldur continued to stare soberly at his gloves, John added, "Isn't it?"

Kaldur exhaled. "Yes. It is good news." He looked up and met John's gaze. "The solution," he said slowly, "is for Diana and I to wed."

Wed. It took a moment for the word to make sense to John. He had been expecting a different conversation, and his mind struggled to make the adjustment from him violating a cherished custom to Di and Kaldur getting married. He was forced to repeat it several times in his mind.

Di is going to marry Kaldur. Di is going to be married. Di and I will never

It felt as though someone had dropped a heavy weight on his chest.

"It will be public knowledge soon," Kaldur continued, "and I wished you to hear it from me before that happens. I—" He stumbled a little. "I know how you feel about her, John, so I know this is not easy to hear. I hope it will not impact our friendship. I have come to value it highly."

The weight on his chest was growing heavier, making it hard for John to breathe. He forced himself to say the words out loud. "Di is going to marry you."

"Yes."

"And she's happy about this plan?" Spoken aloud, John's question sounded rude, almost unkind. He had not intended it that way. It was the surprise, he told himself.

Fortunately, Kaldur appeared to understand. His eyes remained full of sympathy. "I believe she is pleased about what this means for the future of Four," he said gently. "As am I." He rested a hand on John's shoulder. "I'm sorry, John. I am bringing you pain, which is the last thing I would ever wish to do."

He meant it. John could hear it in his voice. And suddenly, he felt foolish. He realized that somewhere, over time, he had come to believe that Di would never commit herself to anyone, that she would dedicate her life to a larger purpose. They had gotten close in the Games, he and Di, and he had openly declared his love, only to have it returned with the warmth of her…friendship. She had appreciated the gift of his heart but had not reciprocated. He was not normally conceited, yet somehow, he had managed to take those facts and twist them into believing that if she could not return his love, there was a chance she might not ever love anyone.

He shook his head. Foolish.

"I'm sorry," Kaldur repeated, looking anxiously at John.

John tried to shrug. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Di and I have never had an understanding. And what I said to her in the Games… well, that was a lifetime ago — literally another life. A lot has changed." His voice trailed off.

But of course Kaldur wasn't fooled. He was always so bloody perceptive. Often more perceptive than Di, John thought.

"You still have the same soul," Kaldur said. "The same soul that reached out to hers in the Games, no matter what Tahiti did to your body. And it is clear to anyone who sees you now that your feelings have not altered."

"Maybe." John stiffened his spine and gazed resolutely at Kaldur. "But she's never said the words back to me. And if this marriage unites Four and makes the two of you happy, then it is a good thing. You are both such honorable people — the best I have ever met. You deserve to be with the person you love." Kaldur frowned a little as John added, "You do love her, right?"

The diver's frown was replaced by a thoughtful expression. "I know that I love her, John. I am no fool; I know my heart. And yet I think I love her as I love my king. I care for her deeply and would do everything in my power to keep her safe, even from her own follies. I will simply have to learn to love her as a wife and not a sister in arms."

John nodded dully. He remembered the first time he'd realized that he loved Di. It had occurred as he'd watched her sleep next to their campfire in the Games. She was dirty, her beauty dulled by mud and fatigue, and her temper earlier in the day had been a little short. They had even bickered over something — he couldn't recall precisely what. But he knew, as he'd looked at her sleeping form, that he would walk through fire for her. And later, when she'd awoken and smiled at him, he'd felt a shot of happiness streak through him that the horror of the Games could not diminish. There was no learning involved. It had simply happened.

"John?" Kaldur was looking at him worriedly.

John did his best to shake off the memory. Kaldur was a good man; if he said he would love Di, then he would. And, John reminded himself, there's no force on the planet that can make Diana Prince do something that she doesn't want to do. So she must want this marriage, too.

He ran a hand through his unruly hair and sighed. "I'll need a little time to adjust," he said lamely. "But please believe me when I say that I wish you only happiness." He didn't attempt to force a smile, because he knew Kaldur would see through it.

Kaldur's gaze became kind. "I can finish here," he suggested, gesturing at the bridge. "Perhaps you might like to speak with Diana? It is difficult for her to find a moment to herself these days, but I know she will want to talk with you."

John nodded again. "Okay." He didn't know what else to say.


John didn't go to Di — not that day. He'd done a reasonable job maintaining his composure with Kaldur, but maintaining it with Di was going to be another thing. One look into those sea-blue eyes, now confirmed forever out of reach, and he was afraid he might weep. He needed to get a grip on his emotions before he talked to her.

So he went to the shore.

There was a spot on the beach that he had started to think of as his. It was sheltered by large rocks, and when the tide receded, it left small pools of waist-high salty water that grew warm in the sun. John had been teaching himself to float in those pools with some success, although he was far from ready to submerge his body in the waves. The place was private and had become for him what the mine tunnels in Twelve had once been: a refuge where he could be alone with his thoughts.

Today, he made no effort to swim. He sat on the rocks and stared at the waves as they rolled in and out. Normally, their endless cycle was soothing — hypnotic, even — but their motion now brought little comfort. John wished for his sister, if only to have her hug him and say in her gentle voice that everything would work out.

Instead, he got Thor. The Asgardian approached as the afternoon rays of the sun slanted across the water, casting the rocks in a golden glow and turning Thor's hair to a light shade of blonde. His long strides were purposeful, yet easy, as if he were walking on the paved roads of the Capitol rather than soft, yielding sand.

Thor lowered himself to sit next to John. "I thought I might find you here."

John nodded and didn't look up. He wasn't surprised the Asgardian prince had come to see him. Thor had an uncanny knack for knowing what was happening in Four, often before the leaders.

"I heard," Thor added unnecessarily. "I'm sorry."

John nodded again and picked up a small, smooth rock and rolled it between his fingers. "Have you ever played that game with yourself — where you want something so badly you pretend that you don't really want it, because you think it will hurt less when you don't get it?"

Thor cocked an eyebrow as he sorted through John's question. "I don't think so."

John shrugged and threw the rock into the water. "Just as well — because it doesn't work."

Thor smiled, but it was a smile of understanding, not humor. "I'll try to remember that." He rested a hand on John's shoulder and joined him in staring at the ocean. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Thor sighed. "This marriage is a very good thing for Four, John. It will unify our people in a way that nothing else could."

John pressed his lips together. "And for Di and Kaldur? Is it a good thing for them? They will have a lot of years to spend together after Four is unified."

"Aye. But they are fond of each other," Thor said matter-of-factly. "Surely you have seen that."

John nodded reluctantly. "Yes. They have become good friends. And Kaldur says he will learn to love her as his wife. As for Di — well, she doesn't exactly wear her heart on her sleeve, so I have no idea how she feels." He picked up another stone and worried it in his hand. "I would just like to be certain that she is happy about the marriage. It would be easier to accept if I knew that."

Thor raised his eyebrow. "Truly?"

John laughed in spite of himself. "Well, maybe not. I don't know. I'm trying to be a good guy here, Thor. I'm counting on you to help me be a grown-up about this."

Thor chuckled. "I am certain you will be, in time. But, for now, I believe you are entitled to grieve a little. Anyone who has seen you with Diana knows how you feel."

"Oh, great," John muttered. "So that means half of Four is going to be pitying me."

Thor shook his head and patted John on the shoulder. "Only a third of Four — at the most."

"Terrific."

"And it is not pity," Thor added more soberly. "It is empathy… and respect." He picked up his own stone and threw it into the ocean, much farther than John had been able to throw his. "You have been a grown-up, John. You have not made your feelings a burden for Diana — or for any of us. You have not troubled her with them; you have allowed her to lead and to fight with a clear mind. For a girl like Diana… like my sister," he amended, "that is the most loving gift you could give her. She may be too preoccupied to see it now, but I believe someday she will understand and appreciate it."

Someday, John thought, when she is married and committed to another.

He watched a seagull settle on the surface of the ocean, accepting the power and motion of the waves as easily as if it were sitting in its nest.

"Will you stay?" Thor asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Will you stay in Four?"

John almost smiled. Trust Thor to go straight to the heart of the matter. It was the same thing he'd been asking himself all afternoon.

The seagull dipped its head into the water, its white tail momentarily pointing straight up to the sky, and then returned to the surface with a small fish in its mouth. It swallowed the fish in one gulp. Life goes on, John thought.

"Yes," he replied simply. "I am going stay, at least for now. The war is not over, and there is a lot of work to be done in Four. She'll need all the help she can get."

Thor grinned and shook his head. "You have it bad."

"I'm well aware of that, Thor."

"Well, you should at least suffer on a full stomach. I am dining with the Lady Sif this evening, and I think you must join us."

John waved one hand. "I wouldn't want to interfere-"

"Oh, there's no interference," Thor interrupted easily. "Sif is like a sister to me. We've known each other since we were children." A gleam came into his eye. "She often asks about you, though."

John shook his head. "No matchmaking, Thor. Please."

Thor gave him a considering look and then nodded. "Aye. I see it is too soon for that. Perhaps in two or three weeks…"

John groaned but allowed Thor to lead him away from the beach.

John went to speak with Diana the following morning.

He found her outdoors, not far from her home, surveying the status of the repairs. She was wearing one of the suits SHIELD had provided them, a utilitarian slacks and shirt combo that she somehow managed to make look feminine, her legs a mile long in the snug, knit pants. He didn't think the choice was accidental. The suit was neutral — neither Amazonian, Asgardian, nor Atlantean — and Di was always attuned to symbols. He noticed that she was wearing a necklace, the first time he had seen her with jewelry. It was a simple silver chain with a few aquamarine stones that brought out the blue in her eyes. He thought it suited her.

She tucked her hand in his elbow and tugged to get him to walk beside her. "Kaldur gave you our news," she said without preamble.

Our news, John thought. That sounds very…couple-ish. The heavy weight he'd felt when Kaldur had spoken with him yesterday settled back on his chest.

"Yes," he replied tersely.

She heard the tension in his voice and stopped walking. A faint pink flush tinted her cheeks. "I am sorry," she said slowly. "I thought after all that has befallen us since the Games and your death, with Tahiti, and your new life…" Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. She was more matter-of-fact as she continued, "I thought your feelings toward me may have altered."

Seriously? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Kaldur and Thor could see it. And I think you could see it too, Di, if you had allowed yourself.

He shook his head. "They haven't."

"I am sorry, John," she repeated. She studied his face for a moment, then disengaged her arm from his and resumed walking. He hurried after her.

"My feelings aren't the important thing here, though," he continued as he caught up to her. "What's important is how you feel. You are making a lifetime commitment. If it makes you happy, Di, I will learn to live with it." And at some point, I may even be happy for you.

She stopped again. "But of course I am pleased," she replied, as if she was speaking to a child. "Our union will connect all the peoples of Four. With peace and cooperation, the entire district will prosper." She smiled brightly.

And for the first time since he'd heard the news, John felt a spark of anger. It was the same line he'd gotten from everyone: Kaldur, Thor, and now Di. It's a good thing for Four. Our people will prosper. He gritted his teeth. Couldn't they recognize that they had a duty to themselves as well as to their district?

He tried to keep his voice even. "I understand what this means for Four, Di. But what does it mean for you? Does the thought of spending the rest of your life with Kaldur make you happy?"

She maintained her smile. "I believe we will make a good couple. There was a time — when we were selected for the Games — that I thought him stubborn and arrogant. I believe he thought me the same." She shook her head. "Now that we have taken up arms together, I have come to respect and admire him."

John frowned. He was not an expert in matters of heart, but he was certain that respect and admire were not the same as love. Respect and admire were clean, level-headed emotions. If they were a color, he thought, they'd be a cool, clear blue, like the sky over his head. Love was something else entirely. Love was warm, the color of a sunset; it muddied your thoughts and pushed everything else to the side. There was nothing level-headed about it. He knew this, because it was what he felt every time he looked at her.

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm asking. Can you once — just bloody once, Di — not think about your duty and think about yourself? You're going to sleep beside this man and wake up next to him for the rest of your life. You're going to… to… forsake all others until the day you die. You should be ridiculously happy about that… not about what it means for Four."

Her cheeks flushed again, and this time, they were a ruddy red and not a delicate pink. She set her jaw, and he saw the steel in her eyes. He knew that look well. It meant he had pushed things too far, and she was gearing up for battle.

"Do you remember what you told me in the Games?" she asked sharply. "You were recounting stories of your sister, and how she reprimanded you for the expectation that life be fair. I believe you said her expression was: 'Fair is a child's word'?"

He nodded.

"The same can for said for happiness, John," she continued. "It is almost as childish as fair. I am the daughter of a queen and the All-Father. I do not have the luxury of placing my happiness above others'. My people must come first."

He shook his head but said nothing. No words he could come up with, he realized, would make a difference. His anger dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming heaviness and fatigue.

Di's flush faded. "And lest you worry too greatly about me, John," she said, more gently, "I believe that I will find happiness — in part by knowing that I have served my people well."

It was not the answer he wanted, but it was the only answer he was going to get. He stepped closer and took her hand in his. "I hope that's true," he said quietly, "because you deserve happiness. Everyone does."

He kissed her cool cheek and walked away.