Hey guys, back again for the new year. I ended up taking the last bit of 2023 off from writing and publishing, both for my own mental health and then so I could do a bunch of writing and stock up on new chapters for the coming year. I also ended up giving out a lot of homemade Christmas presents this year, which sucked up a lot of my time. Still, I'm excited to get back to things and hope you enjoy this new chapter.
They say nothing could quite prepare one for parenthood. And, as Robin perused the online catalog advertising young men's clothing, she couldn't help but agree.
It wasn't as if she had never shopped for men before. True, shopping for the boys had always been more of Nami's self-designated chore, but Robin had tagged along often enough and was never shy about giving her opinions on what amusing t-shirts Luffy would like and what sturdy trousers Usopp would find easiest to work in. Yet this was different. On top of only being able to make an educated guess about John's sizes -measuring him while the lad was unconscious seemed like a breach of trust that Robin was unwilling to overstep. She checked the labels of John's clothing when throwing them into the wash, of course, but clothing sizes were far from uniform. On top of that, Robin had yet to gain a firm grasp of what John's specific taste in garments was.
'We'll start with the basics for now,' Robin decided as she added three more shirts to the digital cart. 'Anything that doesn't fit or isn't to his taste can always be returned or altered. When John is more settled in, I'll have him select his own clothes. It'll be important in letting him craft his own identity here.'
A few more quick selections and Robin hit the buy button without even bothering to check the total. As much as she missed her home world, she couldn't deny the ease of online shopping. That being said, Robin was sure that Nami would miss the thrill of shopping at each new island they came across, discovering each island's unique clothing style.
That task completed, Robin leaned back in her office chair and sighed. While it certainly was important to get John some new clothes, the necessity of the task did not negate the fact that she was only tending to it this quickly because it served as an excellent diversion from the two other problems racking her brain.
'Well, two-and-a-half.'
First was the issue of David Cain. Where was he now? Who had hired him to attack her? And perhaps most importantly, why had they only wanted her scared instead of dead?
The answer lied, she was sure, with either Bruce Wayne or Lex Luther. Not only were the two some of the biggest names in the industry and therefore had much to gain from her downfall, but it certainly couldn't be a coincidence that Robin was attacked so brazenly only a few days after they both visited.
The question -Question 1.5- was which one?
Bruce Wayne had been the more brazen of the two, what with his attempt to bug her office. Leaving one behind had been a strategic move on her part. Letting the man believe he had still found a kink in Robin's armor could be useful in the future. Especially if it let Robin control some of the information he got. Furthermore, there was a vicious intensity behind Bruce Wayne's eyes that Robin had seen many times before. It spoke of the deep endless pain that gave to passion bordering on obsession.
Yet she also saw gentleness and humbleness within him. Humbleness in his treatment of both the waitstaff at the restaurant and the behavior her secretary reported. Gentleness when he spoke of his own employees and children, pride clear in every word he spoke of his eldest son, even if there was pain there too -undoubtedly caused by a strained relationship. Yes, the man certainly had his secrets, yet Robin could not see Bruce Wayne as a man who would sink using hired guns as an intimidation technique.
That didn't mean he was off the hook though. Robin would be keeping her eye on him for the foreseeable future. She thought that was only fitting considering Wayne attempted to intrude on her personal space.
Still, setting Bruce Wayne to the side for now left her with Lex Luther as a suspect. And every fiber of her being told Robin that he was far more likely to be behind the attack anyway. On top of being bald (rarely a good sign), the man's dealings with less savory elements of the world were not hard to find. The man's lawyers must work hard to keep stories of alleged ad allegations of wrongdoing from lingering too long in the public consciousness. Yet the internet was supposedly forever, and Robin had compiled quite a file of the man's dirty little dealings.
Among them being his theft of Thousand Solutions company data. Even if Robin had been kind enough to allow it, that didn't mean she was happy about it.
She would say it surprised her that a man who had been imprisoned more than once was still allowed to run a major company, access vast riches, and have a thumb in so many political and social pies, but it didn't. Different worlds they may be, corruption could be found everywhere. By this point in Robin's life, men like Lex Luther were old hat.
Robin's eyes slid down to the embossed, scented paper of a gala invention on her desk. The raised, golden ink lettering was written out in a long, fanciful script:
You, Nico Franks, are Cordially Invited to the Pembertons' Annual Charity Gala.
More followed, covering particulars of the event such as other guests in attendance, who'd be catering, which musicians would be playing, and what they'd be raising money for: financial relief for the families of deceased first responders. A worthy enough cause that Robin would not regret donating to it.
The charity was not, however, her reason for finally RSVPing 'YES' to this particular gala invitation -one of many that arrived each week. No, that simply came down to wanting the chance to engage with Wayne and Luther in a more… peer-filled setting.
Robin was not looking forward to it. It would be a different situation if Franky or, better yet, the entire crew could be with her -that would actually be enjoyable!- but, alas, it was not to be. Instead, she'd be stuck playing the verbal game of manipulation and schmoozing with her so-called peers while eating annoyingly small foods and disappointingly weak wine for what promised to be a frustratingly long night.
'Perhaps I'll steal something, just for the fun of it. Nami would approve,' Robin mused, amusing herself with the thought.
Tucking the invitation away for now with a mental note to go shopping for a new outfit and make the appropriate appointments for nails and make-up, Robin let her mind turn to the second major problem in her life.
The Justice League.
Robin frowned, the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. For so long, she'd seen the idea of 'justice' twisted and violated to excuse all manner of atrocities that she'd long since lost any trust in it.
A changing of computer tabs brought up the most recent photo of the group, each looking powerful and regal with their flowing capes and impressive jawlines. Robin rested her chin in her hand as she studied the photo. They were a fine-looking group, odd taste in clothing aside, but that didn't mean the archeologist trusted them. Yes, they'd fought hard to save John from the awful Necro fellow and, for that, Robin would be forever grateful. Yet that didn't change the fact that John had run from them at the first possible opportunity.
John choosing to return to Robin and Franky over whatever the superheroes offered filled her with a possessive sort of pride. One that, if questioned, Robin would not even attempt to deny or be ashamed of. She was a pirate, after all; it was in her nature to be greedy.
'But will they come after him?'
Over the past few days, Robin had read many articles on the activities of the Justice League. And it truly did seem like their days were spent solving much bigger problems than a runaway teenage mage. Did that mean they wouldn't waste significant resources on tracking John down?
Robin's gut told her that wouldn't be the case. And she'd learned to trust her gut at a young age. It kept her alive many times.
They'd been there for some reason. This wasn't the case of a dangerous incident happening and the heroes responding. No, Robin and Franky had seen them searching the area. Then there was the dark-haired female magician... She's known John. Perhaps not as well as she clearly thought she did, judging by how John had reacted to being hugged by her unexpectedly. But they weren't strangers.
Robin leaned back in her chair and recounted the encounter she'd had leaving that rundown neighborhood after John was taken by the heroes.
Her hands were raw and dirty, her palms stung bright red ever so slightly, and her fingertips were stained with dirt and dust. Robin wiped them on the skirt of her dress as she picked her way through the shadows, heading to the street corner where Franky would be waiting with the van. As much as she hated leaving John behind, Robin saw sense in his instructions for her to go. With the heroes' arrival, the chances of extracting him quickly and quietly had become slim. For now, that was a task that would have to be put on the back burner. Her new priority was leaving this area and meeting up with Franky as quickly as possible.
The former Devil Child of Ohara fought the urge to frown as the heel of her boot caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Of course, that was a minor inconvenience, and it wasn't really why Robin was upset. No, she was upset that John had been stolen away! The heroes, whatever they may think, had no right to interfere in this matter. It should have been her and Franky disposing of this Nicholas Necro and retrieving John!
Well, at least it didn't appear that Necro would be a problem any longer. Ideally, Robin would have preferred for John not to do the threat disposal himself. He was still young, after all. While it was important for someone to be able to save themselves from a bad situation, Robin didn't like the idea that it would weigh on such a young mind and heart. It wasn't fair.
Not that life ever was.
Robin was so lost in her thoughts -as well as the first fragments of plans to extract John from his new troublesome situation- that she didn't notice the tickling of her Observation Haki until heartbeats before a voice spoke up.
"Well now, this is quite the strange place to find such a beautiful lady."
Brown eyes raised to the form of a slender yet well-built young man in a tight black and blue skin-tight suit. Illuminated by only the light of the moon and the few street lights that remained operational, Robin took in the sight above her. Dark hair framed a lovely sculpted face that might have been better suited for a runway than a mostly destroyed block of apartments. It was only partially covered by a black domino mask, obscuring the man's eyes under white lenses.
Nightwing. Bludhaven's own resident superhero.
Robin gave the young hero a pleasant, if somewhat vacant smile. "Can't a girl explore her own city? I find walking at night so much more peaceful than during the day. Less people about."
Nightwing lazily shifted his perch on a half-destroyed fire escape that was likely held together more with rust than with nuts and bolts. Now seated on the narrow railing, his legs dangled down, swinging slightly with relaxed ease. "I'm not sure anything could be called peaceful about tonight."
"Hmmmm," Robin pretended to consider his words. "I suppose things have been rather lively in this corner of the city. Do you know anything about that?"
"No, I guess the big guns didn't think a little hero like me needed to be let in on the fun and games," Nightwing replied, shaking his head.
There was no guarantee the young man was telling the truth. He certainly would have no reason to do so. Even Robin could admit that she was acting suspiciously. Yet the bitter edge in Nightwing's voice, coupled with the annoyed twist at the corner of his mouth, told Robin that there was genuine emotion in his words.
'Now that's interesting,' Robin thought.
As far as she remembered, there was no concrete connection between Nightwing and the Justice League. That being said, there were plenty of situations where famous superheroes teamed up with their smaller, local heroes to deal with threats. So why not Nightwing?
"Can I tell you a secret?" Robin asked sweetly, all but batting her eyelashes at the younger man. It was time to test something.
The hero leaned forward, a smile growing on his face. "I'm great at keeping secrets. What do you want to get off your chest?"
Robin couldn't tell if the young man's eyes glanced downward to her ample bust but supposed it was a safe enough bet. She traces her fingers along the hemline of her dress to draw attention to it, brushing away a smear of dirt as an excuse. As a seduction attempt went, it was crude, unpolished, and frankly pedestrian. Nami would have been disappointed. Franky would have found it amusing.
"I'm considering buying up this complex and rebuilding it from the ground up. I plan to still keep it as low-income housing though. Housing is so expensive these days, and maybe it can be a way my company can impact the unhoused population of the city."
It was a lie. Or rather, it had been a lie when it popped into Robin's head, but as soon as she spoke the words into being she thought that it could be a good idea. Corporate-funded housing could be a slippery slope, but if she shifted the management around it might be helpful to many. If nothing else, it was something to have her lawyers look into.
"Wow, you must have some serious dough to throw around if you're considering something like that," Nightwing asked. He cocked his head to the side. "What do you do for a living?"
Given that Robin worked viciously to keep her face from becoming well-known to the public, this could have been a genuine question. Yet the teasing way Nightwing spoke implied that Robin was more familiar to him than most would have been.
'So it's not just a test, it's also a game,' Robin thought. 'Curiouser, and curiouser.'
She decided to play.
"Isn't it obvious?"
The hero leaned in more, to the point he was always falling from his perch. His smile was still growing; only now, Robin was matching it.
Robin winked. "I'm a pirate."
Then, with a toss of her braided hair and a casual wave of the fingers goodbye, Robin left. She walked with purpose, yet not overly quick. That could be dangerous. That could lead to Nightwing chasing her.
Once she turned a corner, Robin ducked down and summoned up a flower clone, sending it off in the opposite direction of where Franky was waiting as she hid in the shadows.
If Nightwing tried to follow her, and Robin was sure he would, then he would follow the clone as it walked aimlessly north until it got far enough away and dissolved back into petals. The hero seeing that could certainly be a problem, yet his following her to Franky's location would be far worse. So she stayed crouched and hidden in the shadows for fifteen minutes before creeping away.
Ping!
The message alert from her computer had Robin opening her eyes, emerging from the memory. Clicking on it, she grinned. More information from her contact. It looks like Cain was still in the neighborhood.
Ping!
Another message. This one was from her secretary letting Robin know that Dick Grayson had called. He was ready to arrange a meeting.
"Okay, take me through things again," Superman said, his voice an annoying picture of calm and patience. "If we can figure out what happened in Bludhaven, maybe we can figure out where John went."
Flash pressed his thumbs into his temples and sighed. "I don't know what else we can say. There was an evil wizard dude. There were a lot of monsters. We fought the demons. Batman fought the evil wizard dude. The magic went boom. John pushed the evil wizard dude into a portal. Bad magic gets sucked away. The end."
"I'm glad your mission reports are more elaborately phrased than that," J'onn said. It was only the thin smile on his lips that gave away that this was a rare moment of humor for the alien.
Batman said nothing, even though he did not think this was the time to joke. Part of him was furious that Flash had made the rookie mistake of leaving John unattended, but he kept his tongue bit. Both because it would do them no good in this circumstance and because the Bruce Wayne part of him needed Flash -or, rather, Wally West- in his corner. Nightwing would have learned of their exploits in Bludhaven by now; he would have learned that Batman did not call him about what was happening and he would be angry about that. If Flash and Batman were in good standing, then maybe the Speedster could explain it to him.
"All right, I need an explanation for that portal thing," Green Lantern said. At some point, he had found time to shave and shower and now looked marginally more alive and aware of the world around him than he had during the emergency meeting at 3:00 a.m. "Zatanna, can you help a man out?"
The sorceress drummed her fingertips on the shining metal surface of the conference table. "There's not much to explain. Well, that's not true. The spell is fairly complicated, but the theory behind it is simple enough. Think of it like a vacuum, except it only sucks up the magical energy of the nearby environment."
"Then why didn't it affect you and Constantine?" Batman asked, speaking up for the first time since this meeting had begun. He hated magic, it made everything too complicated. That didn't mean he didn't always try and learn everything about it that he could.
"From what I understand, the lad must have used the more advanced version of the spell. Attuning it to Nick Necro's specific magical energy meant it targeted anything cast by him specifically." Jason Blood explained.
"Unique magical signatures," Hawkgirl piped up. "Zatanna, that's what you were talking about earlier, wasn't it?"
As his colleague nodded, Jason continued. "Even the most advanced versions do not affect magic users, only the magic they cast and its effects. Unfortunately, that means…"
He trailed off as Zatanna shivered.
"It makes me worried about what John did to the spell," she said. "Any decently powerful and learned mage can tweak and customize a spell. Once they've mastered the base version of it, that is. But to change the fundamentals of the spell so it not only targets the magic cast but also the caster? That's not only exceptionally clever, that's… unnervingly vicious."
An uncomfortable silence filled the chamber. Even with the many groans, echoes, and hums the Watchtower created, the entire structure felt almost as still as the endless void outside its windows.
"I will be the first to say it then," Wonder Woman spoke up. "John, the boy we intended to rescue, to protect, effectively killed a man. How do we feel about that?"
"He killed his abuser," Flash replied. Glancing around the table, he elaborated. "Let's not pretend any of us are idiots. We're all smart enough to read between the lines of what was happening between those two. And I'm not necessarily saying I'm happy John ended up pushing Necro into that portal, but if you're asking me to condemn it, to condemn him, I'm not going to."
"That's a… dangerous way of thinking, Flash," Superman said cautiously. "Many are already uncomfortable with the amount of power we wield and how we take action against criminals in our own hands. We can't go around handing out death penalties or deciding what killings can be considered justified."
The speedster gave him a blank look. "I do support the death penalty, Supes."
"As do I," Wonder Woman added, reaching over to squeeze the back of Flash's hand in a show of solidarity. He gave her a small smile.
"Diana-"
"And the fact that you do not is foolish to me," she continued. "Taking the life of one who wishes and intends to harm many is not simply practical, to my people it is considered ethical."
"Aren't you supposed to be all about love and compassion?" Green Lantern asked, cocking an eyebrow.
The Princess of Themyscira met his incredulous look. "My heart overflows with compassion. Compassion for those who are harmed, compassion for those who cannot protect themselves, and compassion for those who ache for vengeance and justice. Do not forget that I am a warrior, just like you were. Tell me, is there truly a difference between what you did as a soldier and what this young man did?"
"Yes," Green Lantern said firmly.
Across the table, Batman could see J'onn shift. Even without any pupils, he was certain the man's pure white eyes were focusing on him -Doubtlessly wondering when he would give his two cents to this discussion. The Martian swore that he never read any of their minds without permission, yet times like this made the detective dubious of that claim. He liked J'onn quite a bit and respected his abilities. That did not mean he wasn't appropriately wary of him.
"Why?" Wonder Woman questioned. "Because the people you worked for deemed the deaths you caused as justified? Because you were legally permitted to take those lives? Did you bear a personal grudge against the men you killed? If not, and those deaths are only due to the orders you will given, then I find that more egregious than if they had done you personal harm."
Times like this reminded Batman just how much older Diana was than the rest of them. She was naive in certain aspects of life and 'Man's World', yes, yet she was also wise and self-assured in so many others. Perhaps that was because she had spent so much time considering her own morals and values? Or maybe she was simply built that way.
"What? No, I- Damn, it's different. I-" Green Lantern looked over at Hawkgirl for help, only for her to shake her head and shrug.
"You're looking at the wrong person to back you up there, sweetheart. I was trained to do what needed to be done. Death is rarely pretty, but sometimes it's…" She hesitated, as if unhappy with the last word she was about to say. "Necessary. Sometimes it's necessary"
Superman cleared his throat. "What about you, J'onn? What are your thoughts on this situation?"
"I have taken many lives. And while I can truthfully say I did it in defense of my planet, I will also admit that, eventually, I also took satisfaction in the act. Shallow comfort as it was, every enemy I defeated felt like just recompense for my fallen kin," the Martian Manhunter said in that slow, calm voice of his. "For that reason and others, I do not feel it fair that I judge this young man for his choice. I only regret that events played out in such a way that he had to make it."
Flash snorted before shifting to look at Batman. "Alright, Bats, your turn. Can you genuinely say that the world wouldn't be a better place if that clown of yours got a needle in his arm?"
This entire situation had the Flash in rare form.
Despite his usual behavior, the Speedster was perfectly capable of being serious. For all that Batman sometimes found the childish attitude annoying and distracting, he could not fault the young man for the quality of his work. After all, he was able to keep two cities in top shape, maintain good public relations, and do his League work on top of a forty-hour work week. Even in his personal life, his job in Central City's forensic unit was immaculate. More impressively still, up until a few years ago, he was doing that as a college student.
Over the years, the Detective often wondered if Flash chose the uniform of a carefree clown to hide his competence and to lull others into a sense of security. That would be Batman's technique if it suited his brand of criminals. He could also do it to separate himself from his uncle, the former Flash. Still, for him to have been so consistently serious, surely the situation had been affecting him more than expected. Even being closer in age to Constantine than the rest of them wasn't a strong enough explanation.
Those were thoughts for later, however. Batman should give Flash a lesson on avoiding such intense emotional attachment. It always clouded judgment.
"I am not answering that question," he said gravely. "I don't kill for my own reasons. And whatever the justice system chooses to do with the Joker after he's in their custody is out of my hands."
Before Flash could offer a retort, Batman decided to get the conversation back on topic. "Besides, we can't pass judgment on John Constantine before finding him. Zatanna, can you track him with magic?"
"No, I've tried five times since he disappeared. Something is masking his magical signature again. Not like when Necro had him either, it's more like that first time he disappeared. I still don't know what is causing it," the sorceress said, shaking her head. Then it was her turn to give the room a stern look. "I'm not happy with what John did. But I'm saying this now, he and anything he's done is my responsibility now. I don't like what he did to Necro but I'm not letting him be hauled off to jail or return to his father."
"Besides, the magical community tends to deal with matters within its own circle," Jason Blood added. "If it makes you all feel better, once he's found we can arrange for some magical parole -to use a term you may understand. Yes… That would likely be better overall. Young, reckless magic users are a danger to us all. It's best to keep him in an environment where he can be under observation as he learns. And few are better suited for such a task than Madame Xanadu."
Batman bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't say he entirely agreed with Jason Blood. From Zatanna's description, there had been a viciousness to Constantine throwing Necro into the portal. And from what the sorceress had told them, the very fact that Constantine had crafted the spell so he could use it against his former teacher showed an element of premeditation. He couldn't, in good conscience, call it outright murder. But there was no doubt to him now that John Constantine was dangerous and he needed to be found. Contained.
"Zatanna, I want you to continue trying to track John Constantine through magic. Try at least once a day. See if you can break whatever spell is masking him. I'll try and track him down through the more conventional ways."
"This kid has practice staying off the grid, Batman," Green Lantern said.
"That was before I was hunting him," the Dark Knight replied. "He's hurt now. And the home base he had established is gone. We should keep an eye on that area. It's destroyed now but there's a chance he could try to return for lack of a better place to go. Sooner or later, he'll trip up as he tries to get himself resettled. And that's when we catch him."
"I will ensure the magical community also knows to be on the lookout," Jason Blood added. "The boy is cunning, but he's also got a young mage's greatest weakness. Hunger. He'll want to learn new magic so badly that he'll do anything to get his hands on the information. Like an addict chasing a fix."
"I don't like talking about John like this," Superman said, shaking his head. "I don't agree with what he did, but he's not some bloodthirsty murderer on the run. If I had been there-"
"Then you would have had to fight magical demons like the rest of us," Flash said. Then he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry guys, I should have guessed that John was trying to get me out of the room so he could do a runner. I just… wanted to believe him."
Zatanna reached over to rub his shoulder. "Don't feel too bad, I should have seen it coming too. I should have put wards in place to ensure he couldn't use that teleportation spell. I figured he would try to get out of the room, so I guarded against that, but I didn't think he had the strength to do such a major spell. To be honest, I'm surprised he even knew it."
Honestly, Batman was still disappointed in the Flash for that slip-up. Still, he said nothing at the moment. It would not help, and the Dark Knight had agreed to allow the Speedster to go talk with the teenager first. There was sense in Flash's idea that Constantine would be more willing to open up to someone younger. He would not make that mistake again.
"So the kid got away, nothing we can do about that. We just got to figure out where he went, that would be the quickest way of finding him," Hawkgirl said. Glancing toward Zatanna and Blood, she asked, "Could he have gone after those magical books? That's what started this whole thing, after all.
All eyes turned toward the sheet of paper on the table between them, and Jason scowled. "I'm still not convinced there is any special message hidden in this poem. For all we know, this entire thing was a trick Constantine came up with to get our attention. It's something the little trickster would do. I'm sure he'd even find it amusing."
"Why would he try and get our attention and then run from us?" Zatanna asked.
"Because something better came along," Batman said, pieces of the answer working to click themselves together in his mind.
John Constantine was bored.
That was kind of a stupid thing to think, he could admit. For the first time in... probably his entire life, John was seemingly in a safe place and he had abundant access to food and a shower where the water didn't smell and look like piss. So he should be grateful. And he was! But in the past three days since John arrived, he mostly slept -getting over a bullet to the shoulder took a lot out of the body, as it turned out, especially when you kept poking at it- and by now, he was sick of resting.
He had searched the bedroom, hoping to find some sort of hidden passage or secret compartment built into the walls. Robin and Franky seemed like the type to enjoy that sorta thing. Alas, no such luck. The room was boringly bare.
There was a big closet, but it was just filled with linens, as Franky had promised. Extra blankets and sheets that smelled fresh and clean, the kind of smell you only get from using the expensive type of laundry detergent. Extra clothes had also appeared on top of the dresser on the morning of John's second, all neatly folded and comfortable looking, even if none of them actually fit. Aside from John's own clothes, that is. Those had once more been washed, repatched, and ironed like they were worth something. Still, John couldn't deny he felt safer having his possessions back in his possession.
Even the bathroom was relatively mundane. Oh, it was nice, nicer than any bathroom John had ever seen. Lots of smooth, light blue-gray and white marble, with some splashes of blue paint to brighten things up. There was a separate waterfall shower and jacuzzi bathtub along with a big sink with a mirror that opened up to reveal a stocked medicine cabinet full of shaving cream, razors, dental care supplies, hand soap, deodorant, and fresh bandages for his shoulder, along with the painkiller and scar creams. The bathroom also had a closet, which itself was full of fresh towels and washcloths, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.
It was all very nice. And very generous. So much so that it had John was still convinced that there had to be something going on here.
Yet, despite John's skepticism, only two things that could even be considered slightly weird had come with the bedroom. First was the large seashell he found on the bookshelf. It was odd looking, the shape of a conch shell yet purple with cream-colored dots. And when John had held it in his hands, passing it back and forth between his palms, his thumb had caught on some sort of button trigger, causing it to play a musical tune.
~Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho
Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho
Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho
Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho
Gather up all of the crew!
It's time to ship out Bink's brew!
Sea wind blows. To where?
Who knows?
The waves will be our guide!
O'er across the ocean's tide
Rays of sunshine far and wide
Birds they sing of cheerful things, in circles passing by!~
The song was lovely, if not John's usual tastes. Still, something about the joyful yet melancholy lyrics stuck with him, and he had found himself humming or whistling it in the coming days. The teenage mage had also spent a good couple of hours trying to figure out how the shell worked. Was it just a novelty music player? It certainly felt like a real seashell but John supposed that didn't mean anything. Robin and Franky didn't play by normal rules. In the end, he decided to ask them about it later on. If they had left it in the room with John, it was unlikely that it was anything too important or dangerous.
That led John to the second strange object he found in the room, something that definitely wasn't dangerous, but he couldn't help but find it really, really weird.
So here John was, wandering through the maze-like halls of Robin and Franky's home, with a massive teddy bear tucked under one arm as he attempted to find something to do. Even a stop by the kitchen for some homemade fruit bars and brown sugar muffins hadn't satisfied him for long. Glancing down at the teddy bear, he couldn't help but snort. It was big, nearly the size of his torso, and almost unbearingly cute. Made of brown flannel with large button eyes, and a matching blue hat and t-shirt. The shirt had a big sun design on the front and the name 'KODA' embroidered on the hat's brim. At the end of each little teddy bear arm was the design of paws, the individual pads all raised and delicate.
'Do bears even have paws like that?' John wondered. He'd never seen a bear in person, not unless you counted… Well, no. THAT definitely didn't count. 'Who left this in my room, and why?'
John was sixteen, far past the age he needed a plushie. No matter how huggable it was.
He passed the library he'd crashed in that first time he stayed here, pausing to admire the shelves and shelves of books. Robin loved to read. John had gathered that even in his short time here. Not only was the house filled with books -there was usually at least one on any given flat surface- but every time the woman came home she usually had bags of new literature. Hell, John was pretty sure this wasn't the only library in the house! From what he could tell, this was just the one that Robin had filled with fiction novels. Which the teenager could appreciate. John's favorite books were about folklore and history, but he'd torn through his local and school library's fiction section more than once.
'I could spend hours in here,' he thought. Before John could stop himself, he was heading towards one of the shelves and pulling out the first book that caught his eye: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. "I've heard of this one. It's supposed to be good."
The hardcover book was black, with raised blue lettering. It must have been a special edition copy. John thumbed through some of the pages before turning to a random one and reading a few lines… Before snapping the book shut and slide it back into place.
Robin loved books. And people who loved books were protective of their books. As much as John liked it here, that doesn't mean he had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. And fiddling with her collection could very much trigger that particular event.
So back into the halls, he went, idly turning corners with no real direction in mind until he stumbled upon a large metal door. It was almost comically oversized, with large hinges, a handle the length of John's arm, and bolts that looked like they could mechanically slide into place if need be. Above the doorframe were two glass bulbs, one red and one green. The green one was lit up. On the wall next to it was a small call box that included a large button that said 'PRESS ME,' as if it wasn't obvious. Strangely though, it wasn't any of that that drew John's eye. No, it was instead the small note taped to the front of the door with what John had come to recognize as Robin's delicate, looping handwriting.
'John, this is Franky's workshop. He spends most of the day here, so don't be alarmed if you don't see him for hours at a time. If the green light is on, feel free to come in. He'll probably enjoy the company. If the red light is on, that means he's working on something dangerous, and you'll need to leave him be. Still, if you want to get his attention while the red light is on, just hit the call box, and you can talk to him.'
For a moment, John considered walking away. Could anything be interesting in the man's workshop?
'What the hell am I thinking? The man's a cyborg! Of course, he has something interesting in there!' John reprimanded himself. 'And besides, it's time I learned more about these people.'
He knocked on the door, hearing a metallic echo radiate out. Then…
Bang!
.
.
.
"Damn… COME IN!"
Without waiting for his better sense to get ahold of him, John grabbed the massive handle and pulled. The door was heavy, so much so that John's injured shoulder ached with the effort of it, but, eventually, it swung open to reveal a wonderland of beakers, machines, test tubes, blueprints, mechanical parts scattered on tables, and just about everything else John had ever imagined after reading sci-fi comics and watching late night reruns of Doctor Who and Star Trek.
"Oh, hey kid! I was wondering when you'd find your way here," Franky called out from his perch at the head of one of the tables.
"What does that mean?" John asked, cocking his head to the side.
Massive shoulders shrugged. "Even TV and the internet can only keep you busy for so long. Plus, you're the curious type."
John fought the urge to frown. Franky was right, but the teenager never liked when people were able to see him that clearly.
Frankys didn't seem bothered by John's silence, instead waving him over. "Come take a look at this. I'll show you what I'm working on."
Slowly John made his way over to the table, careful to step around piles of spare parts or rolls of blueprints that filled assorted crates and barrels. When he came to stand across from the cyborg, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Franky.
Nodding towards the large, semicircular object on the table, he said, "Why are you building a giant turtle?"
"Robin is insistent on calling it the BANCHI, but I haven't thought of an anagram that fits with the name yet," Franky said with a snort, metal hand scratching his triton of a chin. "He's a water safety robot. You can set him up in lakes, pools, even in the shallow areas of beaches, and he's got sensors to detect things like riptides, rocks, current changes, high tide or low tide coming in, any sort of dangerous wildlife, and if I can get the sensors working right, it might even be able to sense the movement patterns of someone who's starting to drown."
"Sounds useful."
"Yeah, I've had the idea of something along these lines for a long time. You've got to remember, the world Robin and I come from is almost all water. The island I was raised on, more so than most. Most kids learn to swim alongside walking, and even then you see a lot of drowning deaths." The cyborg tapped the 'shell' of BANCHI before grinning over at John. "I thought that since it would be around a bunch of kids, it should look friendly. The boys, at least, will think it's SUUUPPPPPAAAA! The missus disagreed, but I won the argument on that one. The less said about the design Robin wanted, the better. But they say you got to pick your battles in marriage and that was one worth fighting for."
John forced himself to return the grin.
The entire man was bizarre in appearance, and as little as John wanted to admit it, he had a hard time looking at Franky. Yeah, that was stupid as hell coming from someone who would spit in the eyes of demons and smooched more than a few others. But there were parts of the cyborg that fit so squarely Into The Uncanny Valley that the teenager found himself fascinated and disturbed by Frankie in equal measure.
They were the obvious parts, of course. The metal chin, the blue hair, the metal pieces that made up a solid half of his visible body… Then there was the whole speedo thing, but John had decided not to question that. A man with the (possibly silicon) balls to run around more than half-naked had certainly earned the right to do so. But there were other things too, things you didn't notice until you looked closely.
First, there were his eyes, a cerulean blue that was too intense to be a natural color, and that almost glowed in the dimness of the workshop. Then there was Franky's skin. It had scars, yes, and the before-mentioned metal pieces. It even had hair, but outside all of that, it was too smooth, too perfect. It had bothered John for a while until he realized that the man had no pores! Finally, there was also the mechanical hum that followed him everywhere. It was in the background base of his voice, and, whenever you stood close, you could hear it radiating from his body. Faint yet always there.
"How much of you is real?" John blurted out. 'Ouch, real subtle there, Johnny boy.'
But the teenage mage was never one to deny himself answers. And he wasn't about to let this place or the admitted kindness of strangers turn him into a shrieking violet who is overly afraid to step on toes.
'And caution is different from fear,' John told himself as he slammed the door on memories from the library.
"All of me is real, kid," Franky replied, seemingly unbothered by the question. "But if you're asking how much of me is organic? Then the answer is 27%."
The look on John's face must have said it all because Franky laughed and continued. "I didn't start out with that much, mind you. I used to be a normal guy. Then I had a bit of a run-in with a train, and I ended up as a 59% cyborg. But as time went on and I made adjustments to myself, the organic bits got replaced by more and more SUUUPPPPAAAA machines."
"Why do that to yourself though?" John asked. He looked over Franky again. The man was big and strong. Who knows what kind of things he could do? But it wasn't worth it to be so obviously different? John wasn't an idiot, he knew that Franky never left the house. His modifications to his body meant that, in this world at least, he was stuck away hiding away from people to avoid notice. "I get using machines to save your own life, but beyond that?"
Franky shook his head, cutting John off. "Look, you're trying to find tragedy in victory. I'll admit that the circumstances around that first round of augmentations weren't the best, but everything since then was just in service of making me the best version of myself."
He thumped himself on the chest, creating a soft metallic echoing sound. "When I was younger, I was obsessed with making strong weapons and now I am the strong weapon. Everything I change about myself is so I can better service myself and my friends. And I don't regret any of it. So don't go looking at me like I'm a victim, kid. These shoulders are more than wide enough to carry my own pain, you don't go trying to pile more up there."
.
.
.
'Alright, time to change the course of this conversation. It's getting too sappy.'
"And what does your wife think of all those metal bits?" John asked, a small smile creeping onto his face. Unable to help himself, he glanced in the vague direction of Franky's crotch before promptly banishing that thought to the deepest pits of hell.
"What can I say? Robin's a freak," Franky replied with a wink.
It was only then that the cyborg noticed what John was carrying.
"Oh, you've got one of the Koda bears." He held out a hand, and, somewhat awkwardly, John passed him the plushie. In Franky's giant hands, the bear looked normal in size. "This is one of the originals too. I knew Robin kept a couple, she must have gotten one out of storage."
Well, that answered the question of who would put it in his room.
"Any idea why she put it in my bed?" John asked, a bit more harshly than he intended to. "She knows I'm not some sort of bed wedding brat, right? I don't need a teddy bear."
"Not a brat, huh?" Franky snorted at his own joke before turning his attention back to the bear. "And be nice. She based these bears on someone very important to my crew and I. He was a good man, and even though you didn't mean to, I won't hear him insulted."
John's first instinct was to apologize, but he bit his tongue. "You're honoring a friend by turning them into a plush toy?"
"It was Robin's idea. She thought the company needed a mascot, so she came up with Koda. When she found out that the kids of employees thought he was cute, she made a couple of plushies to give out as gifts. Those kids showed the bears to other kids, word got around, and a demand was created. Pretty soon after that, we were producing them. When they started getting profitable, we decided they'd be for charity." Franky explained, staring down into the bear's dark button eyes with an expression of solemn remembrance. "He would have liked that, I think. Helping people and being a SUUUPPPAAAA buddy to little kids."
Logically, John knew Robin and Franky had plenty of adventures in their pasts -only some of which he'd heard about- but it was different to actually hear one of them talk like this. John's past wasn't anything he liked to talk about, even the better stuff was tainted with all manners of darkness. To be able to remember even painful things with undeniable warmth? That was… enviable.
Anger sparked in John's chest. "What am I supposed to be doing here anyway? What plans do you have? What's my part in them?"
The anger was a familiar friend, old and comfortable. Some days, John wondered when he learned that being angry was preferable to being scared or lost in self-loathing. The heat of anger kept him warm at night, at least. When it didn't bite him in the arse when he let it spark out of control, that is.
It crackled under his skin as Franky turned his back to John, lumbering over to the desk to grab an absolute throne of an office chair.
"You're the one who wandered into my workshop, kid," he said, settling down into the chair. He cocked his head to the side. "What do you want?"
"I-" The response caught in John's throat. It was such a simple question, one he had asked himself many times. And yet.. he wasn't sure he even remembered an adult asking it to him before.
'Nicky once asked me what I wanted to be able to do,' John remembered, 'And what I'd be willing to give up to get it.'
John locked those thoughts away. The less time spent on that topic the better. But, if nothing else, he had an answer.
"I want to study magic," he said. "Ever since I found out magic was real, it's all I've ever wanted to do. First I studied whatever I could get my hands on online or at creepy old bookstores, and then I tried to find a teacher. It didn't go well, but I managed to get a few proper spell books out of it."
They were all gone now, and bloody hell did that hurt! Not as much as his bastard of a father burning those first notebooks, but it still felt like a knife in the ribs. The little library John had started to build had all been in his hovel when that entire mess with Nicky and the Capes 'n' Cowls Crew went down, and there was no going back for them now.
"Well, there's not much Robin and I can do to help you with that," The cyborg replied. Then, with a hum, he pressed his metal nose and his hair popped out into the form of a question mark. The first time John had ever seen him do this, he nearly choked on a hamburger in surprise. Now he barely blinked. "I'll tell Robin though, and if you give us any leads, I'm sure she can track some spellbooks-" he grinned around the word "-down for you."
John was dubious. "Really?"
"Don't you go doubting my wife! A couple of books is hardly the most impressive thing she will have tracked down," Franky said with a proud nod. Then his face turned into something thoughtful. " You know, I didn't ask what you wanted to do. I asked what you wanted."
"Is there a difference?"
"I think so." With a wide gesture to the workshop around them, the man continued. "Everything one wants something, John. And that's not a bad thing. All my life, I wanted to create. And to go along with that, I've wanted the tools to create with! Then I wanted to be around people I could gift my creations, who would love and admire them just like I did. All the stuff in here and beyond are things I've wanted. And I use them to do the things I want. Get what I'm saying, kid?"
"...Uh." John didn't want to answer. It seemed like too much of a test or a trick. Time to divert again. "You never answered my question. What do you and Robin want out of me? Am I supposed to do something for you?"
The thing was, he did get it. At least, John thought so. Franky was saying that they wanted John to ask for things. Physical things mostly, but things beyond that like help and answers.
'Asking for things is dangerous.'
Franky shrugged. "You're looking too much into things again. We want to help you, that's it. You remind us a lot of ourselves and our friends when we were younger. And maybe you'll find that insulting. I remember what it was like to be young and hurt and to not want anyone's help. But it is what it is."
The answer was so mundane and easily said that it hit John like a slap to the face. He flinched, grateful that Franky was considered enough to pretend not to notice. These people already saw him too clearly.
"Robin and I are trying to get home, kid, And if you have any ideas on that, we'd be grateful. Beyond that? I don't know, we're mostly just letting you settle in for now. We'll probably ask you to do some simple chores eventually. Keep your room clean, help with dishes, and stuff like that. And there'll be a few rules. You know, bed by 10:30 and no leaving dirty boxers in the hallways. Robin will also insist you get an education, and I can't argue with that. Knowledge is important, and, as an inventor, I'll say that learning new things is the first part of creating something new."
School? John cringed. School had been better than being at home, and sometimes the subjects were interesting, but he had hated being there too. The only major upside for the library and getting to see Chas.
'Chas… I hope the old boy is doing all right. I let him down on getting away from his mom, I wonder if he's figured out a way on his own? I wonder if he's giving up on me yet?'
"What kind of school are you planning on sending me to?" John asked, eyes narrowing.
Franky chuckled. "Don't worry, we're not planning to ship you off to some boarding school with a dumb uniform. You'll have to talk about it more with Robin, but honestly, I think she'd be fine if you just picked some different books to read each week and kept a journal of it. She's a big believer in the importance of reading, my wife. If you have something particular you want to learn about, ask her and she'll get you on the right path."
The anger was dimming into a low simmer and John found the corner of his lips cutting upward. "What if I want to learn to take over the world?"
Another shrug. "I'm not sure there are any books on that. You could ask Robin about ideas, just know you'll have to live with the knowledge of what she suggests."
The laughter forced itself out of John's throat before he could stop it. It was a strange, strangled thing but it was genuine laughter. The teenager was surprised to find that he liked the sound of it.
Franky blinked, then joined with laughter of his own, fittingly open and boisterous. Eventually, he wiped an eye and said, "All right, I got to finish working on the turtle and sparks are going to start flying for this next part so you got to skedaddle. But first…"
A massive hand rifled through the mess on one of the tables before retrieving a pad of paper and a pen. "We'll start you off with some homework. I want you to make a list of ten things you want for your new room."
He tossed the stuff to John, who scrambled to catch them. "Wait! What? I-"
"And you don't get to cheat on this homework either. No putting down stupid stuff like socks or a lamp. Get creative. Hell, try and pick stuff that'll freak us out if you think it would be more fun that way. I guarantee you we've seen weirder," Franky said, rising his feet to usher John towards the door. He passed the teddy bear back to him as well. "Now if you go, take the bear and go get up to trouble. Message me when you get hungry and we'll order some lunch."
"Uhhhh, thanks?" John juggled the pad of paper, pen, and bear in his arms, getting them all situated and only half listening to what the massive metal man was instructing.
It was only when he heard the thud of the door closing behind him and the whirling of the mechanical locks sliding into place did he realized he'd thoroughly been dismissed. Glancing upward, he saw that the green light had gone out and now the red bulb was shining brightly.
And yet… John found that the dismissal didn't hurt. He felt loneliness creeping back in, yes, but there was no feeling of shunning. This wasn't like when the other kids at school, or even the adults, would brush him aside and go out of their way to avoid John for his dirty clothes or biting words. This was just… an adult needing to get some work done and knowing it would be too dangerous for a kid to be around.
He looked down at the bear's eyes. "I don't suppose you have any plans, do you?"
There was no response. which John found himself strangely disappointed by. After all the weirdness he had seen from Franky and Robin, and this house in general, he wouldn't have put it past the man to make it so this bear could hold full conversations.
"If I bring that up to him at lunch, you might get some upgrades," John told the bear. Then he realized that he really did need to find actual humans to talk to.
He considered asking if there was a way for him to go back into the city, but the aching in his shoulder, the fact that he didn't know how to drive, and knowing that the only person he really had to talk to in the city was Robin -who'd be home in a few hours anyway- made him realize that that would be a stupid request. John would want to go back eventually if only to get some fish and chips from that hole-in-the-wall restaurant by the docks, but today was not the day. So instead he wandered back to the kitchen and got himself more snacks.
It seems like the obvious answer.
That left John just sitting there at the kitchen island, eating a slice of tangerine drizzle cake, and staring at the phone on the wall. Look, the teenager didn't claim he had many good ideas. In fact, he'd come to the point where he realized that his bad ideas were typically his only ideas and he had to work with what he had. So when Chas' home phone number kept flashing through his mind, John didn't fight the urge to go pick up the phone all that hard.
…Ring…Ring…Ring…Click… "Hello"
Part of John wanted to throw the phone back down onto the receiver. Instead, he swallowed and took a deep breath. "Uh, hey… Chas. Its John. How are you doing?"
"...Johnny? Is that you? My god, I thought you were dead! Where are you? are you in the area? I can come meet-"
"I'm in the States."
There was a pause, during which John could practically hear Chas' mind whirling. He could picture the look on his face too, Chas' thinking expression with the pinched brow and sucked-in left cheek.
"Don't go thinking too hard, mate. You'll hurt yourself," He said, trying to keep things light.
Chas let out a groan, both long-suffering and amused. It felt good to hear it again. "Damn it, how did you end up all the way across the pond? Are you okay?"
That was a complicated answer. John didn't think he'd ever been okay in his life. Now though? He was at least…
"I'm somewhere safe," he answered. "Somewhere comfortable. I think I'll be here for a while, so… I won't be able to come get you anytime soon."
"Fuck, I don't care about that. Mum spends more time in the hospital or the bar than she does at home now. It's not great, but I'm fine. I've been worried about you!"
'Typical Chas, always too worried about his screw-up of a friend to care about himself.' John wanted to smile. "But since I'll be here for a while, I wanted to let you know that I was… Well, I wanted to let you know."
"And I'm glad you did! If only because…" Chas swallowed audibly. "John, your dad… He's dead."
A cold weight dropped into the teenager's gut. "What?"
"Yeah, for a while now. I've been keeping an eye on your house. You know, just in case. And I found out that one of your neighbors had reported a bad smell, so a bobby came around, and found your dad dead in his recliner. It looks like he'd been that way for a while."
Something indescribable was buzzing in John's head, drowning out the rest of the world. His father was dead. The father that he hated was dead. the man who had never taken care of him was dead. The man John left behind was dead.
"...Good."
No one could force John back there now.
Another pause from the other end of the line but then Chas snorted. "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. I wasn't disappointed to find out the old codger had croaked either. But Cheryl had him buried. I went to the funeral, more to talk to her than anything else. I was hoping she had heard from you, she was hoping I had heard from you, and we were both disappointed. You've got a niece now, though. Her name is Gemma, she's a little cutie."
A niece, huh? She'd probably be about three now. Man, that was wild. John tried to remember the name of the lug that Cheryl was dating when she ran off. Was he the father? Had she and Cheryl got married? Was he good to her? Was he a good father?
"Cheryl gave me her phone number and address. She said that if I heard from you, she'd like it if I passed on the details or at least let her know… Do you want me to?"
John loved his sister. She always did her best to take care of him. Right up to the day that she left him behind. He hated her for that. And he hated that he couldn't hate her more for that. He ran off too, and if things had been a little different, he can't say he wouldn't have left Cheryl behind.
"You can let her know you've heard from me," he said slowly. "You can let her know that I'm okay, but not much more. Please."
John didn't say please often. In his experience seldom helped. People either wanted to help you or they didn't. A bit of polite formalities rarely mattered.
"And the address and phone number?"
"Maybe one day. Not today though."
A third pause. "...That's fair, I guess."
'Good ol' Chas, so understanding. So determined to help.'
It would get him taken advantage of in his life. Hell, John had taken advantage of that kindness plenty. "Enough about all that serious nonsense, tell me about what's going on. Did you finally get Renee to agree to date your sorry arse?"
The half-angry, half-embarrassing sputtering at the end had John laughing. And when his best mate started talking again, the teenager settled in against the wall and let the words flow over him. Within himself, he felt the knot of loneliness starting to loosen.
Later that night, John found himself sprawled on one end of a couch, the pad of paper propped up against one knee with the tablet Franky gave him against the other, and peering at the other end of the couch where Robin sat knitting a blue blanket.
Well, that description somewhat underdid the sight before him.
Robin was certainly knitting, but she had sprouted three extra sets of arms, one to knit each other corner of the blanket. The image reminded John of some sort of fairytale spider queen weaving a web. And yet, it was like sort of thing that had become commonplace for John in these past few days.
"Do you have any thoughts you'd like to share?" Robin asked, eyes still fixed on her project.
John froze, the pen in his hand still half-raised.
Robin glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and grinned. "You've been staring at me."
'Yeah, but that doesn't mean you were supposed to mention it!'
John glanced down at the list he had compiled so far ss if something there would let him buy time to think of an answer. The list only had four items listed so far though, so there wasn't much help to be found there.
1) Guitar. Something electric and good for beginners. I want it to be red too.
2) Guitar amp. Soldano is a good brand.
3) The Clash merch. It's a band.
4) Tibetan Mastiff puppy.
He had been reaching by that last one. Why was it that the second someone asked you what you wanted, your brain went blank?
John had thought of a lot of things he wanted over his lifetime, and now none of them seemed appropriate for this little homework assignment. The first three were simply enough choices, John had always wanted to play the guitar. He and Chas used to talk about forming their own punk band. But by number 4? Nothing! He had thought about the cliche of a kid wanting a puppy and then, on a whim, googled the most expensive dog breeds. Honestly, he was just curious to see if they would actually get one for him.
"John?"
The teenager looked up into Robin's brown eyes before looking down again. "Franky told me a little bit about how you guys ended up here. He asked if I knew a way to help. And I don't. In mean, in theory, I would need a version of a teleportation spell. It's going to be one infinitely more complicated and powerful than the portal spell I know though."
He shrugged. "Sorry."
Robin was silent for a moment, before giving the slow nod. "Thank you for thinking of us. I will admit that, since meeting you, I have considered that magic might be the solution to our problem. We took you in with no expectations that you would be the key to getting us home, however; so I hope you do not think that was the case."
John looked at his paper, not replying to that prompt. "Magic might be the answer, I'm not denying that. It can do a lot of things. It can do anything if you're good enough, powerful enough, and skilled enough. But I'm not. Not yet, at least. If I got my hands on the right spell books or artifacts… maybe one day. Or if I had the Books of Magic, I might be able to figure things out quicker. I doubt their caretaker would like me running off with them though."
"The Books of Magic… That's what Necro was after, yes?"
She spat Nicky's name like it was a curse. A curse that warmed John's heart.
"Yeah, he was obsessed with them," John explained. "Supposedly, they help you do any sort of magic you want. They could probably spit out how to do an interdimensional transportation spell too."
"And you know where they are?"
John nodded and flashed the woman his sharp grin. "Found a riddle with the answer. Can't believe no one had figured it out either. I guess the problem with adults is that they always overthink things. Especially if they think clever like Nicky did."
That got him the bemused look he was hoping for. "I'll keep looking into things," John promised. " I'm not going to promise anything, but I'll look."
While the bemused look may have been expected, the warm hand and affectionate squeeze on his knee was not.
"Thank you," Robin said. "You're a sweet boy."
John's eyes went back to his paper. he didn't want her looking at him now, not with the tips of his ears Turning red and his eyes growing hot. 'Don't say stuff like that. Don't say stuff like that because I know eventually you'll leave me behind. I'm just trying to keep the playing field level.'
That night, John Constantine dreamed.
He dreamed plenty, though his dreams are rarely pleasant. Even the ones that couldn't technically be called nightmares weren't exactly conducive to restful sleep. At least he no longer dreamed of Newcastle.
That night though, the rune he painted on his forehead let him dream of a library where the forgotten works of the world were kept.
'Robin would love it here,' John thought as he wandered through the endless shelves of literature.
He passed a shelf of books that held all the works that Tolkien had thought of and never wrote. Another night he might have stayed to read them, but John was on a mission and he pushed forward on and on until he was standing at the center of the maze.
"Ello' my lovelies," he whispered as he stared down into the case at the glistening covers of ancient manuscripts.
Whenever he blinked, their appearance shifted. One moment, they were bound in red vellum with embedded gemstones, and another, they looked like dusty old bodice rippers. In another still, they were scrolls of ancient parchment. The appearance didn't change the magic that dripped off of them though. So thick that John could almost taste it.
He never lied, the riddle behind the location of the books of magic was simple to solve.
Words of magic spin long and bright,
Through the darkness, they call you away into the night.
Listen well, for they need you and you need them,
Children's imagination makes spells glisten like gems.
And when you lay down your head and consciousness falls away at the seam,
Know that the truth of all magic will be in the dream.
The dream. Not your dream. One word yet it meant all the difference. It made sense when you thought about it. John had often heard that magic came from dreams. What was it that Nicky said? That the first magic users had wanted a way to make their dreams come true.
So what better place to hide the supposed source of all magic than in the Dreaming?
"You're dangerous little things, aren't you?" John asked the Books. "Nicky's gone now. His obsession with you killed him. I guess he wasn't the first. And I doubt he'll be the last."
"Will you be one of them, John Constantine?"
John turned to see the dark, otherworldly eyes of the King of Dreams. "I'm too smart for that, mate. I know how dangerous they are."
"And I know your dreams, young Constantine. The dreams of you and all your ancestors. Do you want to know what you all have in common?" Morpheus asked.
"No."
"You all find dangerous things endearing. It's been the doom of many of your bloodline."
John shivered. Dream of the Endless was a nice enough bloke -he had done John a solid by getting rid of the nightmares of Newcastle, at least- but he hated looking at him. Something about the paper-white skin, the messy midnight-black hair, and those endless eyes reminded John of how weak and small his life was.
But he was John Constantine, the last Laughing Mage, and he laughed in the face of danger. He patted the pocket of his pajama bottoms. "Mind conjuring me up a smoke? This is your domain after all."
Dream's face was emotionless, He didn't even blink, and yet there was then a lit cigarette in John's hand. When he took a drag, it tasted like candy floss.
'Aw, he does like me!'
" Thanks."
"What are you doing here, young Constantine? I did not call for your services this time."
Part of John wanted to frown at the thought that he was waiting at the beck and call of anyone, even a being as powerful as one of the Endless. Still, that wouldn't get him anywhere right now.
He grinned instead. "I was hoping you'd pass on your sister's number. She's quite the catch, dangerous lady that she is."
"My sister will see you soon enough. When the time is right."
'That's not ominous at all.'
"The truth now, John Constantine. I allowed you here for the services you've arranged in the past and to satisfy my own curiosity. Yet my allowances have their limits, even for you."
John took a puff of the sugary sweet cigarette as he thought of the best way to word this. Eventually, he decided honesty was the best policy. It's not like Morpheus couldn't read the truth in his unconscious mind anyway.
"Two friends of mine are in a bit of a pickle. I was hoping the answers to helping them were in there," he nodded towards the case. "And not even I have enough nerve to try and steal them out from under your nose."
"You have the nerve, We both know that. You're just too clever to do it without a proper plan." Something that could be called a thin smile appeared on Dream's face. "Johanna is the same way."
"It weirds me out when you talk about my dead family members that way," John admitted. "It's like they're still alive."
Dream tilted his head to the side, galaxies still swirling in his eyes. "The lives of humans are so short, living and dead makes little difference to me. Their dreams still live on, here in this library and elsewhere. sometimes they even show up in the waking world."
"Oh."
The two stood there then, staring each other down. Ancient, god-like being and a disheveled teenager with a bit of magic and a boatload of issues.
It was the Endless that spoke up first.
"Your friends' dreams are strange. One would even call them ridiculous. Yet they are powerful. I will consider allowing you to study the Books of Magic. Here in my library, of course, they are too powerful to be allowed into the waking world. Now, it's time for you to sleep properly."
Before John could say anything else, Dream pulled a hand from his robe and blew sand into John's face. And then he was on a boat, staring out into the endless ocean as the salty wind blew through his hair.
It was a good dream.
Good long chapter this time, huh? Consider an apology for my lack of content recently. I apologize to anyone who is a fan of the actual Books of Magic Series. I'm kind of using them as a MacGuffin here. I intend to get to reading them eventually, but just haven't had a chance. Still, I hope you were happy with their inclusions. Same with my Sandman mutuals.