VII. The Waiting Room

Constantine and Chas sat in the waiting room of the hospital, anxious to hear the news of their newfound friend. People naturally stayed away from the blood-stained, gaunt figure and the quiet, sniffling teen, so they were able to sit by themselves in that corner. The doctors hadn't come to see them yet, and Constantine and Chas had no idea if Ophelia would survive the night.

Over and over, Constantine replayed the scene in his head. Ophelia surrounded by winged demons who ripped and tore at her, and dropped her on the ground like a used doll. Blood pouring out of gaping wounds, the glisten of bone beneath. Harsh gasps of breath as Ophelia struggled to breathe. Constantine had seen a lot of strange and impressionable things in his life, but this would stay with him quite possibly forever. For some reason, fear gripped his heart. But fear for what? Fear for Ophelia's life?

"J-john?" came Chas' voice. For the past three hours in the waiting room, he hadn't said a thing, and Constantine was surprised that he would start talking now. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Constantine had been fearing the answer to this question for a long while now, because he honestly didn't think so. Though the assassin was naturally tough, he doubted that anyone, no matter how strong they were, could survive the massacre that had befallen her. He sighed, hands covering his face and brushing through his hair.

"I don't think so, Chas," he replied truthfully. He had learned his lesson long ago. Always tell the truth when it came to these things, no matter what. The last thing he wanted to do was get Chas' hopes up. It would just be setting him up for a harder landing when the doctor came out.

"Maybe Papa Midnite can do something..." Chas muttered. "He's a witch doctor...he'd know what to do."

"I doubt it Chas. I doubt he'd do anything if we begged him. Ophelia's going to die. It's just the way it is," Constantine replied in a dull, emotionless voice. On the inside, however, he was screaming. How was he supposed to believe that the smart-ass assassin wouldn't be around to bug him anymore? For some reason the loss tore at his insides and left him weak, but restless.

"How can you say something like that, John?" Chas asked. His eyes were glistening with anger. "How can you just not care about anything? It's your fault that she's going to die. And you aren't even willing to try to find a way to help her."

With this, his apprentice/ chauffeur left the waiting room. Constantine wouldn't be surprised if the teen just went outside for a little while for some fresh air. In the opposite corner, a woman held a crying baby, with two younger kids chasing each other around a coffee table covered in dated magazines. She stared at him, not with fear, but curiosity. She wouldn't be the first married woman to find interest in the dark and mysterious Constantine, but he pretended she wasn't there. Her kids were annoying enough, the last thing he wanted was a flirting mother on his hands as well. However, when he saw the shining cellophane of a new pack of cigarettes sticking out of her purse, he couldn't help himself. He really needed one. Even if it was just one.

"Hey, can I bum one?" he asked, approaching her. The woman smiled, acting as if she were a teenager rather than a woman with three extremely loud children.

"Sure," she replied and opened the pack, handing Constantine a cigarette. "What's your name?"

Constantine didn't answer. Cigarette in hand he headed out of the waiting room and into the cool night air. Chas was sitting on a stone wall, staring at his hands despondently, and Constantine sat next to him, lighting the cigarette, but not inhaling from it. Chas looked up at him and Constantine tried to find something to say to comfort the boy, but couldn't think of anything.

"I don't know why this is bothering me so much," he confessed, and Chas looked up at him in curiosity.

"What is bothering you so much?" Chas asked.

"The idea that Ophelia's going to die in there. It's hard to believe, and I'm not sure why. It might just be because it's my fault that she's going to die a horrible and painful death, I don't know. Maybe there's something about her... no that can't be it. I mean she tried to kill me, but I sent her to hell. Maybe she's just going to even the playing field by dying and making it worse for me. Or maybe the fact she's going to hell for all eternity is what really bothers me."

"Excuse me, are you John Constantine?" asked a nurse who had just come through the automatic doors of the hospital. Constantine nodded. "The doctor would like to speak with you. Follow me."

Constantine hopped off of the wall, and Chas followed. The cigarette that he didn't even have a chance to smoke was dropped to the sidewalk and crushed beneath one of his shoes in an instant. The nurse led them through half of the hospital until they finally made it to the ICU. Outside of the room that Ophelia was in, a doctor with a grey moustache and brown hair that was clearly dyed, waited for them, examining a clip board with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are these the girl's relations?" the doctor asked and the nurse nodded. She promptly left, looking nervous. Constantine didn't blame her. The place reeked of death. "Hello I'm Dr. White. I've been attending to your wife."

When Constantine had registered Ophelia, it had been as Ophelia Constantine since he didn't know her real name, birthdate or address. He had figured it would be too suspicious if he brought in a girl that he didn't know anything about.

"How is she?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Right now, Ophelia is in critical condition. She lost a great deal of blood. Many of the gashes that she had pierced organs. I'm sorry, Mr. Constantine, but I doubt that your wife will be with us much longer. That's why we called you in. We figured you and your son would like to spend some time with her before she passes on," Dr. White told him. Constantine was infuriated with the matter-of-fact way that he put it. Hadn't this man ever heard of finesse? Couldn't he have slowly brought the idea upon them rather than rushed it? How disgusting.

"I see..." Constantine muttered, trying to maintain control. He wanted to punch the doctor, to beat him until he was in as bad a condition as Ophelia. Next to him, Chas' face was turned to the ground, a hand covering his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but how old is your son?" the doctor asked, looking at Chas curiously. Constantine had to give him credit, it was easy to tell that there was no way that Chas was young enough to be Ophelia's son. She could only be in her twenties, and Chas was nineteen.

"He's not my son, he's Ophelia's brother," Constantine replied in irritation. "Can we go in and see her now?"

"Oh yes, of course," Dr. White replied, as if he had forgotten all about the dying woman in the room next to them. Constantine and Chas entered the dark room, lit only by glowing monitors around the white sheeted bed. Ophelia lay unmoving, breathing heavily. Dr. White didn't follow them into the room, but allowed them privacy, something that Constantine appreciated.

He and Chas pulled up chairs next to Ophelia's bed and she stirred slightly with the sound. Constantine was surprised that her senses were still so in tunes, considering what happened to her. The stitches made her look like a well used rag doll, or a beautiful version of Frankenstein's monster. In fact, Constantine wouldn't be surprised if the thread was the only thing keeping her together.

"John? Chas?" Ophelia's voice was weak and hoarse. It sounded as if she were doped up on a lot of pain killers, which she definitely needed. Constantine found himself unable to answer her all of the sudden, so Chas did.

"We're here," he told her. "How are you feeling?"

"Not so great," she replied. Constantine took her hand, still finding himself mute. A lump grew in his throat, choking him. He struggled to control it, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Ophelia grasped his warm hand with her cold one weakly, but gave him a reassuring squeeze nonetheless.

"They must've emptied their stores for me, I've been hallucinating a little. I'm glad you guys are here now. I was worried you wouldn't come."

"We wouldn't do that to you," Chas reassured her. He looked close to tears. Constantine wasn't surprised. Ophelia was the first person who didn't treat Chas like a cab driver. Probably because she remembered being a teenager better than Constantine did. There was no doubt that Chas would actually form an attachment to her.

"I-I'm sorry I tried to kill you," she apologized. The fact that she was apologizing to people on her death bed made Constantine's heart drop. "I wasn't going to go through with it anyway."

"Don't be. It's just a job right? We all do stupid shit sometimes," Chas replied. Constantine had yet to say anything, still struggling with the lump in his throat and the feeling of his heart being crushed. Ophelia seemed to understand, however, and gave his hand another reassuring, albeit weaker, squeeze.

"You guys are going to keep going with the case right? You aren't just going to give up, right?" she asked. This time, Chas looked to Constantine for the answer.

"We're going to find out what's going on and stop it," Constantine replied, his voice soft. He wasn't used to actually feeling emotion for another person, and it was starting to get to him. Perhaps he needed to give up the insensitive asshole thing for a little while. "I promise."

"Good."

She was becoming visibly weaker as they sat with her in silence. Her face was white, and covered in a sheen of sweat, her grip on Constantine's hand becoming weaker and weaker until she was barely holding his hand at all. Constantine maintained his grip, however, and watched as the young woman faded away faster and faster.

"We're going to find out who did this to you, Ophelia. And we're going to kill them," Constantine vowed and Ophelia gave him a weak smile, though her eyes betrayed that she wasn't quite there anymore.

"Come here, John," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Constantine rose and moved closer to her, his face close to her own. Ophelia's weak breath tickled his face for a moment before she spoke, her voice so quiet that only he could hear her. "He visited me, John. And I'm not going to die, goddammit. I'm coming back. I'll come back for you, and I'll stop all of this, just for you."

Suddenly, Ophelia slumped in the hospital bed, her eyes closing, her head turning to the side. Constantine didn't need the loud warning beep of the heart machine to tell him that the assassin was dead. Chas stood as well, and they both said goodbye to her body, now lifeless and doll-like as her soul departed. For a moment, Constantine could feel her flit around the room like a wandering ghost, touching both Chas and himself before leaving them.

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A/N: Sorry I totally forgot to put this in the last one, I was having a blonde moment.

Thanks so much to all of my reviewers and readers! You guys are great, and I hope you're enjoying this story.

Thewlis- lol you win that is the worst pick-up line I've ever heard. And your review still remains my favorite. What a great way to keep people writing lol.

Morrigan Valerious- I kept thinking about that movie while I was writing that part. I was tempted to actually say something about it, but I decided not to.

chelsea08- Thanks:-D