THE DCFutures Underground Fan Fiction group acknowledges that DC Comics owns the concepts behind John Constantine and all DC characters that may be used here. These concepts are used WITHOUT permission for NO PROFIT, but rather a strong desire to peer into the future of the DC Universe. However, the original concepts presented here are the intellectual property of the author.
HELLBLAZER:DCF #7
"Dreaming & Waking"
Written and Edited by David Lee
A little girl was walking through the woods. The woods were dark and very frightening, and music was playing eerily somewhere in the distance. It sounded like it was being played on a violin, an instrument that the little girl had spent hours upon hours practicing as a child. But she was still a child, wasn't she? The woods were all around her and filled with nasty things. Big bad wolves, witches in gingerbread houses, and woodsmen that weren't as kindly as people liked to believe. But the little girl knew that as long as she didn't stray from the path, she would be alright. The many voices were tempting, but she knew better than to listen to any of them.
NorAm: The Waldorf Astoria, New York City
"You want me to what?" asked John, a look of startled surprise plastered across his features, a look that many who knew him would have paid a fortune to see.
"You said you owed me, John, and I aim to collect. I want you to baby-sit my son at his birthday party." The words were spoken in a matter-of-fact manner, but her lips bore just the hint of a smile.
"But people think I'm the Jesus Christ Killer for Christ's sake! I went to trial for it. You were there! And you want me to watch over a bunch of kids? You must be daft, luv. What kind of mother are you?"
Rachel didn't even blink. "A busy one. Besides, you were found innocent, something that the Bar Association says shouldn't have been possible. I have a bunch of cases hitting trial next month and dozens of new clients, things I owe to having successfully defended you, so in a way, you're to blame."
"So? Maybe the legal system just screwed up again! Do you really want to take that kind of chance with someone you hardly know?" asked John, trying to break down Rachel's resolve.
"Robert Gadling vouches for you so I know you're a good man. He also thought it was a good idea when I suggested it to him." That hint of a smile on her lips became slightly more obvious.
"Oh, he did, did he?" The calculating look in his eyes promised a terrible vengeance, or at the least a nasty surprise, for his old friend.
Rachel just shook her head, wondering how a grown man could find such a simple chore so distasteful. "Look, you haven't said no, and I'm not about to let you off the hook. So like it or not, you're stuck helping me watch over my son and all his little friends." Finally, a smile broke out completely. "The party's this afternoon, and I'll expect you to show up at 3:00 on the dot."
I can just hear it now, thought John to himself. John Constantine: Babysitter. He'd never live it down.
"Bloody hell."
Finally, the little girl was through the darkness and past the monsters in the wood. The eerie melody of the violin had given way to the joyful strains of a fiddle. It was a green and vibrant place with a clear and bright sky, and in the center of it all, Grandmother and Grandmother were waiting.
"Little One, is that you?" asked Grandmother, her voice kind and gentle. Violet tresses framed her beautiful face, and love shone through her eyes. The little girl called her Grandmother, but she was actually her great great grandmother.
"Of course, it's Granddaughter," said Grandmother, her voice irritable but kindly. "Who else would know not to listen?" Rainbow tresses framed Grandmother's face, which was so similar to the little girl's own. Grandmother was always amused by Granddaughter, and her visits did much to lift her spirits now that she was dead.
"Yes, Grandmother and Grandmother. I've come to visit you again. I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've grown up since last I visited," said the little girl. Indeed, she was fully-grown and already a woman in the eyes of all but these two, and even the two grandmothers appeared younger than they actually were. In fact, all three women appeared to be the exact same age.
NorAm: Hobbes Tower, New York City
For as long as Rachel could remember, Robert Gadling had been a friend of the family. Even as a child, he'd been like an uncle to her, and in some ways, he was the only family she had left besides her own son. At the age of seventeen, she'd run away from home to be with her high school sweetheart who'd died before they could be married, killed for the meager credits he'd had in his pockets, but not before leaving her pregnant. Her parents had all but disowned her when they found out.
With nowhere else to go, she'd been forced to turn to Uncle Robert for help. She could not have found more welcoming or fatherly arms. Indeed, he took care of all her medical expenses and saw to her education as well after Byron was born, and she owed him more than she could ever hope to repay, but one day, repay him she would.
One of the nicer suites in Hobbes Tower, John had little trouble finding Rachel's apartment. Over the decades, John had learned to keep his promises so he showed up in spite of his own insecurities. However, he also dragged Barnabas here with him.
"Just what am I doing here, exactly?" asked Barnabas, wondering what John was about.
"You're here to keep these wee ones from eating me alive," said John, putting out his cigarette after taking one last drag. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves, and steeled himself for what he was certain would be a harrowing experience.
"Oh grow up, John. It's a child's birthday party, not slave labor. How much trouble can a room full of children possibly be?"
"Greetings, Little One, and welcome! It's nice of you to visit us," said Grandmother, greeting the little girl with a crushing embrace. The little girl hugged her back without having to reach up and realized that she wasn't a little girl anymore.
"How did I get so big?" asked the little girl, no longer certain where she was or what she was doing here. The fiddler in the distance suddenly stopped his playing, and it suddenly seemed strange to her that she should be speaking with two ancestors who were long since dead. "Where am I?" she asked.
"Someplace weird and scary," said Grandmother, who hugged the little girl fiercely. The words were terribly familiar, and it was then that she realized that she was dreaming.
"What the hell is going on?"
NorAm: Hobbes Tower, New York City
John sat on the couch despondently, his hands pressed against his temples, groaning inwardly. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but decent people didn't smoke in front of children. Neither did he. The party had only been going on for a half hour, but John had already submitted to defeat.
Indeed, Barnabas regretted his earlier words. Looking about at the rampant chaos, he could hardly rationalize how quickly the children had set about to wreaking havoc with wild abandon. There were 12 children in all, and they were all brats as far as Barnabas was concerned, whose sensitive tail had never been yanked so many times.
Next to John on the couch, Erik kept jumping up and down yelling "I'm Batman! I'm Batman!" over and over, having used a magic marker to draw a bat on the front of his shirt. Jessie was crying in a corner because Carey had told everyone he was fat. The other children were keeping busy acting out John's trial, pronouncing him guilty. Tobie's defense had been less than sterling although his Jack Nicholson impression had been pretty good. "The truth? You can't handle the truth!"
John had no idea whose idea it had been to dream up an event where children were traditionally hyped up on sugar and allowed to run wild, let alone an annual one. Probably someone who'd never had kids. He didn't exactly have a happy childhood of his own to draw on for guidance, and his experiences with Tim and Gemma had been less than instructive.
When it finally became clear that John wasn't going to be able to restore order, Barnabas relented, stopped snickering, and took charge of the situation. "Children, please settle down and behave yourselves." The words were spoken calmly, but the ensuing silence was almost frightening. It lasted for a few minutes until it was finally broken by the birthday boy himself.
Byron pointed at Barnabas, looked at John, and commented. "Wow, your dog talks!" This bizarre statement was quickly followed by additional comments like "Cool" and "Just like Sherman and Mr. Peabody." The latter comment made John scowl menacingly. Barnabas just resumed his snickering.
"That's really neato keeno!" said Paul. "Did you learn to talk in school or something? Can you read? Come on, you can tell me." The other children quickly picked up on his line of questioning. Cries of "Yeah, can you read?" and "Did you go to school?" popped up throughout their midst.
"Seems like the peanut gallery is a lot more interested in you than in me," said John. Why don't you keep them entertained while I go check on Rachel and keep her busy." Grinning smugly, he left the room, leaving Barnabas to the tender mercies of the children.
"Thanks a whole bunch," said Barnabas, who pounded his tail rhythmically while trying to think of something clever to say.
After making a quick sweep through the house, John found Rachel in the den, slumped over her desk and fast asleep.
"Grandma Rose? Is that you?" asked Rachel. "You look so young." She eyed the figure of her grandmother in wonder, the rainbow coloring of her hair so different from the iron gray that she remembered.
"Of course, it's me, silly. This is what I looked like when I was your age," said Rose, doing an awkward pirouette to better show off her garments, a pair of torn jeans and a black t-shirt. "And what an age that was!" she smiled, rejoicing in her lost youth.
The young woman before her was a stark contrast to the conservatively dressed woman that had been Rachel's grandmother before she had died some fifteen years ago, but Rachel recognized her from old photographs and paintings at her family's estate. The woman beside her was unrecognizable, but her resemblance to Rose was close enough for Rachel to guess that she was family.
Noting her mixed look of confusion and curiosity, the other young woman with the violet tresses in the elegant-looking evening gown introduced herself. "My name is Unity. I'm Rose's grandmother and your great great grandmother, and I'm terribly pleased to finally be able to talk to you properly, Rachel."
"But how can this be? Both of you should be long dead. How is it that I'm talking to you? What's going on? What is this place?" Dazed by her own thoughts, Rachel moved to sit down and collapsed onto the grass and wildflowers. Wherever she was, the landscape had a lush beauty to it.
"This is the Dreaming. You're here so we can have a long overdue heart to heart. We're three separated generations of the same bloodline, and we have more in common than just our bloodline," said Unity, whose face suddenly showed signs of wrinkles, wrinkles of concern.
Rose's lips were twisted in a manner sufficient to convey the same emotion, and when she spoke, that concern rang clear. "Rachel, we're here to talk to you about the vortex."
NorAm: Hobbes Tower, New York City
John sat himself down at the kitchen table and was just about to light a cigarette when Byron walked in. Zippo in hand, he hesitated long enough to look Byron in the eye before putting it away. "Bored with the talking dog already, are we?" asked John, wondering what Byron was up to.
"Oh, I've read all kinds of books about talking animals" said Byron, hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Meeting a talking dog doesn't really impress me much."
"Oh, really? Like what?" asked John, trying to bore Byron into leaving him alone so he could have his cigarette.
"Oh, all kinds of books. 'Animal Farm' by George Orwell, the 'Tao of Pooh' by Benjamin Hoff, and all kinds of other stuff that was more fun to read. Do you like reading?" asked Byron, looking up at John and eying him curiously.
"Sort of. Depends on what I'm reading. 'Tom Jones' is always a good read." John had been wondering what was wrong with kids these days, and Byron's choice of reading material explained a lot. But then again, Byron wasn't exactly an ordinary kid. "But when I was your age, I didn't care much for reading. Spent more time wondering what I was gonna be when I grew up."
"Really? I always figured I'd grow up to be a lawyer like my mom. What did you want to be? Is that what you're doing now?" asked Byron.
"Not exactly." No one grew up wanting to walk this particular path, and John pitied any poor bastard that did. "When I was your age, I wanted to grow up to be a footballer, a goalie." A smile suddenly crossed over John's features. "Guess that means I didn't really want to grow up, eh?"
Byron stared up at John, wondering whether he ever did grow up. He certainly wasn't like any other adults he'd ever met. He didn't really know why, but Byron understood that growing up was all about rules. Rules didn't seem to apply to John, and Byron thought that was really neat. "So... did you bring me a birthday present?"
John's smile widened. Maybe there was hope for this kid, after all. "To tell you the truth, I think that kids should give presents to their moms on their birthdays as sort of a thank you present, you know? But what kind of arse shows up a birthday party without a present for the birthday boy? Not this one." With that, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in blue paper with a bright red bow, handing it to Byron whose face lit up.
"Wow, thanks John." Byron opened the present right there to find a strangely-crafted wooden box that looked like an antique of sorts. "Wow, this looks like real wood." He opened the box to find a small, toy soldier inside in the shape of a palace guard at what was once Buckingham Palace. Byron had never seen anything like it before, and having it made him feel special.
"That toy soldier was my best friend when I was little, and as long as you have it, you'll never be alone. That's important when you're a kid with only one parent." Especially when your family's been touched by magic for generations, thought John.
"So let me get this straight," began Rachel, still sitting on the grass. "Unity is my great great grandmother, and she was supposed to be the original vortex, but she got hit with some sleeping sickness that kept it from manifesting so instead it was passed down through two generations until it his Grandma Rose. Is that right?" she asked.
"Exactly, I think. Sort of," said Rose. "Unity kept Mr. Sandman from killing me by destroying the vortex back when I was your age. I'd thought that was the end of it until now." A look of grandmotherly concern that Rachel remembered well appeared on Rose's features.
"And I'm supposed to have inherited some power from the vortex that messes up other people's dreams? I'm sorry, but that's just a little bit out there. I mean, how do you know it's true? Why should I believe you?" Like any good lawyer, Rachel required proof. The two women claiming to be her ancestors had presented their case, and it was about time that they presented some facts.
"Not just a dream but a waking dream," said Unity. "Something that no one other than the Dream King should be able to instill in man, a dream that crosses over the boundary into the waking world, infecting a persons thoughts while they do not lie sleeping. Shall I tell you of what we saw?"
Rachel nodded for Unity to continue, somehow dreading the answer that her rational mind told her must be preposterous but her pounding heart insisted must be the truth.
"We saw a man wearing the robes of a judge. Suddenly, his robes were transformed into the armor of a knight of old, and he was standing at the head of a council of knights. He stood in judgement as a black knight and a lady underwent trial by combat. The justiciar named the lady victorious, not because she was true but because the black knight was false. That lady was you."
Stunned confusion was all that could be read in Rachel's expression. "You... you're talking about the trial. You're saying that I won because I'm part of this vortex... that book John was holding..." Her words trailed off as the forest around her started to blur. "Wait! What's happening?" The entire scene, including Unity and Rose, began to get smaller and smaller. Rachel could still see them, smiling and waving, but they were getting farther and farther.
"Come back soon, Rachel, and we'll talk some more!" yelled Unity as if from a great distance.
"And don't freak out!" yelled Rose. "You're just waking up...!"
NorAm: Hobbes Tower, New York City
Slightly dazed, Rachel wandered out of the den, eyes half-closed. "I just had the weirdest dream..." she began. Seeing Byron with John, she quickly forgot what she'd begun to say and scooped him up into a fierce, motherly hug. "And have you been a good boy on your birthday?" she asked.
"Aw, cut it out, Mom!" squealed Byron, embarrassed at being fawned over in front of John. "Not in front of the guys. Geez..." He pouted in a fashion that tugged at his mother's heart because she thought it was so cute, and she put him back down. Luckily, none of the other kids had been witness to the exchange.
"Did you have fun with John today? Did you enjoy your party?" She put her hands on her knees and bent down to talk to Byron face-to-face.
"Yeah, John let us make a big mess and he brought his dog and his dog talks and..." said Byron in a continuous stream of information that made his mother smile.
"Not too big a mess, I hope" she said, looking at John. "I didn't know you were a ventriloquist, John. Aren't you full of surprises." Byron ran into the living room, and she moved to follow.
John smirked. "Yeah, I've got lots of hidden talents, I have," said John, following behind quickly. "Just please don't recommend me for all the other birthday parties." As he walked into the living room, he could see that the children were busying themselves trying to get Barnabas to talk some more for Byron's mom."
"C'mon, Mr. Barnabas, talk some more. Pweeeeeeeeease!" yelled all the children in unison. Barnabas just lay on the floor, resting his head, but looking John's way for help.
"Sorry kids, but Barn only talks when he feels like it. Besides, it's about time for his walk." Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the gaggle of children parted to open a path between Barnabas and the door, and for once, Barnabas scowled with John snickering at his expense.
"Thanks for all the help, John, you're a lifesaver. You can consider the debt paid, but I hope you didn't hate it all that much," said Rachel as she saw him to the door.
"Don't worry, it wasn't. Byron's a good kid, and you've done a good job of raising him. You should be proud," he said. "But I think you should spend some time with him on his birthday no matter how busy you are."
"Don't worry, we're going out to celebrate later, just Byron and me after the party's over," said Rachel. "Will you stop by again sometime? I think Byron has taken a liking to you."
Smiling, John leaned in and kissed Rachel gently on the lips. "I think I will. And don't forget that a birthday's a special day for the mother as much as it is for the child. But if you don't mind, I'll also be dropping by to see you, luv."
Rachel blushed slightly and smiled in a manner that she hadn't since she was a girl of seventeen. "Please do," she said, nearly whispering.
- End of HELLBLAZER:DCF #7 -