Wondrous Strange
Aillil:
-Constantine x Harry Dresden -
Prompt: John and Harry, unlikely partners on a case. They meet up a few times in each other's usual hide outs.
0o0o0
"O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!"- Horatio
"And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." – Hamlet, Shakespeare
0o0o0
It's very rare, but it does happen; people born with the eyes to see what isn't meant to be seen, with abilities no one can explain with what is commonly known. More often than not, if you have something about yourself, you get it the ordinary way - from your parents, just like the color of your hair. That something special though is passed down by blood, parent to child, and so on and so forth…sometimes though, just sometimes, it wasn't a case of an affair or being an adopted orphan.
Sometimes, this shit just happens.
Such was the case of John Constantine, who knew there were demons led by the likes of Lucifer, and an angel like Gabriel –there was a Hell, so there had to be a Heaven and a God too. All of it was more or less true…but than there was this, there were things that John ran across occasionally that didn't appear in any scripture of the Bible, that no man or woman of the cross would take to be any kind of truth.
John saw it, and so when he hears about a wizard advertising by newspaper ads in Chicago– bingo, he decides to pay him a visit; to see if there is any truth to that claim, and because he's as curious as a cat with nine lives to be spent. John uses what connections he's got, and when he asks at Papa Midnite's place – he gets the name of what he thinks is a place, Mac McAnally.
It turns out to be the name of the owner – not the name of the place (which isMcAnally's Pub), and John wonders if all 'neutral' pubs and bars and whatnot have a communication network. The theme of this pub is thirteen: stools at the bar, tables in the room, windows, mirrors, and wooden carved columns. The colors are sea green and earthy brown, and the ceiling and the fans hang low. Clearly a place prejudiced against being tall.
John's uneasy because thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number.
"Something I can do for you?" The man behind the bar drawls, eyeing him with mild curiosity.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm looking for one of your regulars, a Harry Dresden?" John Constantine asks, while looking at what pub patrons are there. Mac McAnally is grilling something up that smells good. John knows this isn't a wild place, not what Midnite's is – that grill Mac is using takes skill (John knows, as he can't grill or cook worth shit, it's why he eats out) and it smells more than half decent.
"The wizard – why…?" Mac eyes him anew, carefully.
"He's got information I need, I think." John hates admitting it, but he isn't about to lie upon meeting a man face to face for the first time.
"Sometimes it's better not to know. Dresden will be by anytime now, tall man, he wares a trench coat, fancies himself more of a detective than a wizard. But there isn't much difference between the two to me..." It isn't until later that John learns just how rare it is for Mac to speak up, he's normally a silent man, and something about his wisdom let's John know it's better not to press him. There is something to be wary about in Mac.
John heeds that feeling, and walks carefully and quietly to one of thirteen tables – the one that lets him see both Mac and the door that looks to be the only entrance or exit patrons are supposed to use; in a place like this, John can only hope his 'stick' is big enough to beat off what comes at him here.
Nothing does come leaping out of the shadows, what does come through the door is Harry Dresden.
"He's looking for you, Harry." Mac states, washing a glass as if he hasn't a care in the world – and hasn't been eyeing John since he sat down with something close to suspicion.
Harry glances up at Mac in a surprised sort of way, and looks to John – who nods. It's evidently taken to be permission to approach, because Harry does so, and sits as if it's to be granted.
"Well, hello, who are you?" John looks this so-called wizard over, and can't help smiling. He's the scruffy sort of underdog, and John can't help liking him a little bit.
"John Constantine." Is the answer, of course, and he pulls out a cigarette and smokes, breathing it in deeply.
"Well, that explains everything." Harry doesn't look too impressed with John's habits, and his nose curls up at the smell. Not a smoker, and that's something to know – but not good, and not bad.
"It does, does it?" John Constantine asks, because he wants to know how much Harry knows – or doesn't.
"Not really, no, only that you ought to know those things will kill you. Why are you looking for me here?" Harry looks toward Mac in a way that is more protective than it ought to be. John realizes he's made a mistake, he thought that this was neutral territory and it's becoming clearer that it isn't. The wizard's advertised office would probably be more neutral than this place, at least where it concerns Harry.
"Neutral ground, so to speak. I see though that I've made a mistake, my bad." Harry frowns at him, tilting his head as if studying John is easier that way. Whatever he sees, he smiles at.
He is both just what John Constantine was looking for, and nothing like what he expected – Harry is a wizard and a wise ass, and John's scathing wit is something Harry is pleased and amused by. John wishes that all his meetings with the strange went as simply and easily as this.
"It's alright, I like to keep pleasure and business apart, but I'm not very good at it. What can I do for you, John Constantine?" Harry fiddles with his bracelet, and John looks at it, oval disks surround his wrist, and there is something defensive about them, protective.
There is one thing that John has wondered all his life about, and he takes another deep breath, bracing – and asks, because he can't hold it in anymore. It'll kill him sooner than smoking, he knows.
"What am I?" Harry Dresden doesn't look like he gets that kind of question everyday; he narrows his eyes at John, as if expecting a trick.
"I know this is real, Harry – I know about demons, and angels, and magic…but, I don't know why I know what I know, I don't know what I am – what sort of monster, or…or madness, or magic I'm a part of." John has always thought he was human, hoped, really. Yet there had always been that maybe of doubt niggling at the back of his mind. That question had always weighed on him, casting his life in shadow.
"You really don't know?" Harry Dresden muses, looking John over and his expression clears of suspicion as if seeing the sun creeping out from behind a stormy sky. John envies him that, is jealous of it – wishes he could have it too.
"No, I don't." His words are sharp and bitter, and Harry smiles – it's strange, to see a smile in face of John's doubts and pain and worry.
"I do know. Knew it once I walked in. You, John Constantine are like me – a wizard." John's heard it called a lot of things, the sight, a psychic, a prophet – but no one has really had an answer that he fits - until now. John can't help but laugh with relief. If it's tinged with hysteria neither Harry nor Mac ever mentions it.
"Tell me…everything." John asks, because for the first time in his life, he has a rare living wizard in front of him; and he's not going to waste this chance.
Harry Dresden doesn't disappoint him.