7651/How the Mighty Have Fallen.

How the Mighty Have Fallen.
Date of Scene:	01 September 2021
Location:	Room 201 -- McDuffie Memorial Hospital
Synopsis:	One close call and a breaking damn have a few of the pieces of a shattered John Constantine back together.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Nettie Crowe

---

John Constantine has posed:
    By the time Chas actually came to his own senses enough to contact Nettie, they already had John all checked in and set up in a room rather than down in the Emergency Room. Currently hospital staff is in the room tending to their patient and it's left Chas in the hallway.

    The poor cabbie just stands there, looking all sorts of lost and in over his own head on this one. It's like he doesn't know what to do with himself or where to go. Is that a chair over there he could be sitting in to wait? He doesn't even seem to notice it. When someone comes out to start yapping at him about dehydration, IV fluids, something to support kidney function just in case... blah blah blah blah blah is all he hears. He just nods along like he gets it. He even misses the bit about 'something we haven't identified in his blood' and might have just nodded 'yes' to the 'do you know if he's taken any recreational drugs'.

    Which John hasn't, thank the Gods. They're just looking for a reason for that 'unidentified' bit is all.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie knows the drill for alcohol poisoning, and John should be dead. His blood was half alcohol. His bloodtype was cheap scotch. And Nettie was, in a word, distraught. She hated hospitals. That's why she typically worked mortuary clean up. Death was something she was suprrisingly comfortable with... just not with it being in bed with her friend.

    The doors open, and she is unusually not with Corvax (who hated hospitals for different reasons) and was actually dressed up nicer than usual. Skirt. Pumps. Tights, a gray vest over a cream colored T-shirt, her silvery-gray hair pulled into a bun as she taps her way over to Chas.

    "Hullo, Chas." she greets gently, once the nurse leaves.

    Saline drip, likely. Something to raise his sugars and retain water. Painkillers in case his kidneys fail.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Nettie," Chas speaks her name like he might be drowning and she's a life ring. It's kind of the way of it, truth be told. "I can't believe I let this happen. I should have watched him better. Didn't pay attention to how much he was puttin' away. I left to go to the back for like... ten minutes, came out and he was on the floor. Couldn't wake him up. Brought him here 'cause Dr. McIntyre, she's..."

    It all spills out in a blur of words, one on top of the other, a rush of a thing and it seems he might not stop talking if not stopped.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    It's rare that Nettie gives hugs to anyone. Same as she always seems to be only half there after such a long life, but she reaches out, and wraps her arms around the larger man, holding him for a moment. Chas might be the strong, quiet one -- but she knows the man has a heart bigger than John's, but is less vocal about hiding it. Less vocal about most things. She holds him a moment, careful not to touch his skin.

    "Chas, love, it's not on you boyo. Not on you." she breathes out, and she hugs him tight. "You brought him to the right place." she states gently, and she reaches up to gently stroke through Chas's hair, as if he were a little kid.

    "Is he awake yet?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "No, not ..." But the answer to that question changes in a blink.

    In the room, John wakes suddenly and a little violently. He sits up, faded denim blues wide and unfocused, a scream forming but never quite making it to reality and... Hellfire dancing on his hands. Shit. It's a good thing the hall's vacant at the moment? It won't be for long though with the spike in his heart rate and blood pressure, those monitors are sure to bring staff running.

    If he doesn't just burn the whole place down in his confusion, somewhere between nightmare and not.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Chas might be able to feel the gentle expression of concern flatten against his shoulder.

    "- /bollocks/." Nettie swears as she releases her hug on Chas and rushes into the room, almost losing one shoe in the process, impossibly bright eyes going wide.

    "JOHN! John! It's okay! It's Nettie!" she states, and she reaches for his hands, to cover them with her own to try and put out that Hellfire he was blossoming.

    "It's your Nettie. I'm here, my heart." she states, her eyes wide. She'll deal with the injuries later if he lobs fire at her -- but it's much harder to try and convince everyone else that it was just an illusion!

    

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas is right on Nettie's heels, his own voice adding to the attempts to call his best mate from whatever Hell he's at in his head. "JOHN! WAKE UP!" It's barked out, commanding even, it's clear this isn't the first time he's had to use that voice and those words. It's likely been for a similar situation, only without the hospital and the IVs and the 'John almost drank himself to death' hovering around it all.

    Whether it's one of or the other or both is no matter, all that does matter is that John's eyes clear and focus and that Hellfire dies away as fast as it appeared. He jerks his hands away from Nettie and seems about to say something before he just... pukes. There's not much there to come up save a gut full of bile and booze. It's painful to watch, even more painful to smell like than not.

    Chas is standing in the doorway by the time the first nurse arrives in a hurry. "Just a nightmare, give us a second... please," he says, body blocking most of the doorway in case the fireworks start anew.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    You know what Nettie knows after being a front lines nurse?

    There's /always/ a basin. As soon as John's hands come down, she spots the signs, and she reaches to the side, knocking over that not-quite-peptobismal-pink container for water and the cup as she grabs the basin, and shoves it under John's face so he doesn't get the mess all over himself or have to sit in it.

    "That a boy. Get it out." she states, her hand reaching to lay on the back of one shoulder.

    And she stays by him, her hand on hhis shoulder, the other holding the basin steady. It's a scene that's played out many times in her lifetime, just in general not with John.

    "Could we have some hot water and black tea? And Dramamine or Antivert?" she calls out over her shoulder.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I should really check..."

    "No you shouldn't," Chas cuts her off. "You should get some hot water and black tea and give us a minute." It's not often the man pulls out *that* voice; the 'don't fuck with me' voice, but damn he can rock it when he wants to. He's actually scary...

    When the nurse backs down with a nod and maybe the need to swallow down a lump in her throat, Chas turns back to the room, but hovers near the door.

    Before it's over, it turns to dry heaves and then coughing and splutter and ends with John shaking and sweaty... and still of the, "Just leave me *alone*," line of thinking aimed at both Nettie and Chas. Has the where of him even registered? Does he even *care*?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "It's all right, Nurse, I served in the Corps, seen more than a few in this way." Nettie gives a friendly smile, and then a gentle "Chas..."

    Be nice is implied. They're trying to help.

    It's weird to be saying that. And nevermind that she hasn't been a nurse since before the moon landing. It's largely the same, right?

    As John's heaving calms, the yellowy foam and completely foul smelling mixture expelled, she goes to the little bathroom in the room and dumps the contents of the basin, rinses, and dumps again. This gives John and Chas a minute to glare angrily at one another, and her a moment for a quick think before she grabs a washcloth, and wets it. A different pitcher is filled with cool water, and she comes out, heels tapping. The basin is under her arm, cloth in hand, pitcher in the other. Pitcher goes onto the table. She pours a cup of water for John. She then hands the cup over to John, and holds the basin out.

    "Take a sip, swish, and spit. Your breath smells like shite and vomit, lad."

John Constantine has posed:
    No glaring from John. By the time Nettie returns, his arm's draped over his face. His response is a repeated, "Leave. Me. Alone." There's not even glaring from Chas. He's pointedly not looking at John. This is BAD, all capital letters, BIG BAD.

    "Nettie, you got this?" Because Chas needs a minute or five, maybe ten, maybe a few drinks of his own. The latter won't happen because he won't leave the hospital. Likely won't until they release the asshole mage in fact, but he needs to not be in this room in this moment.

    "It'd just make my day if you'd go with him, luv," John snarks, face still covered with his arm. How how the mighty have fallen. John Constantine actually looks *small* laying there, in a hospital gown that's surely missing the backside, shaking, pale, arm hiding what he can of it from the rest of the world and still trying to be the bastard most believe him to be. "Seriously, Nettie, sod off, get out." There's no real heat in the command, just a whole fuck-ton and then of nothing but pain.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I've got this, Chas, grab yourself a bite to eat." Nettie states with a gentle smile to the best cabbie, and then she turns back to John. She looks about, and then just sits on the side of John's bed, and pokes his elbow with the cup.

    "You're at McDuffie Memorial. Chas says there's someone who works here who knows you." she states in explaination. "You passed out at the Laughing Magician, and Chas couldn't wake you up. Got you here, and then called me up." she takes a breath.

    "You are practically pissing scotch at this point, so, you an' me, we're talking. Sip. Swish. Spit."

    She taps the cup lightly against his elbow again.

    "Now."

John Constantine has posed:
    John lowers his arm and snatches the cup, it's a wonder he doesn't smash it with the way he grabs it. He might just have if he had more strength to him. Sip. Swish. Spit. It happens, but the arm goes right back to where it was after.

    "I'm fine, Nettie," he nearly snarls. "I'm goin' back across the pond as soon as I can get out of this hole." Seems he's had a moment to process the situation anyway, likely figured out the why of being here shortly after the general where of it - in a hospital. "Checkin' myself in." ...there's only ONE place that statement could possibly be referencing. "I'm fine... I don't need you here, I'll figure it out. Just *go*."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    It's a start. At least he no longer has the taste of belly-up scotch on his tongue, right?

    Nettie then begins to clean him up. Very gentle touches. Wipes across his forehead. Back of his neck. Cleans off his mouth. She listens to him speak until she registers what he said. Her movements stop. She straightens a moment as she turns her gaze to him, and John might be able to feel the shock coming off her.

    "No." she states, "No, John, I... I won't let you." she stammers a moment, reaching for his hand to lift his arm up.

    "They will *kill* you, John!"

John Constantine has posed:
    The scar's still there, on the arm he has over his face, if a person knows where to look. Both it and the matching on the other are faint by now, faded by time.

    At first he fights that arm being lifted. It's not a flailing sort of thing, just strength against strength. But he finally relents and allows it to be pulled away. "No they won't," he says. 'I hope they do', screams the rest of him; it's reflected in the shadows in those faded denim blues. It's no less than he deserves is it?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie knows exactly where to look, and how faded they are. Lines that run from wrist to elbow. She'd kissed them once.

    Nettie's body was giving shudders against John's hospital bed. Trembling, but she takes John's hand and she holds it, curling her fingers against him.

    "You'd let them, John." she replies, bringing her other hand up and reaching to gently stroke at his blonde hair. "I don't want to lose you too."

John Constantine has posed:
    John actually... laughs. But it's not a humorous sound at all. It's hollow, empty, a little scary. Insane might be the proper word here, at least slightly. "Lose me? You won't, Nettie because even *you* will be in the grave long before me simply by being in my fucking orbit."

    He jerks his head to the side, away from her touch and snaps, "Just GO!"

    ...before I kill you too. Like the rest of them. Like he was nearly the cause of Phoebe's death. Like all those faces so recently re-burned into his memory.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "You think, for one moment, I've not been alongside men or women who thought that? Do you know why I never went on your adventures or joined your parties, John? Do you think for one moment /I/ don't feel that every time I become close to someone because I know I shall have to watch them die or leave them as they age and I do not?" Nettie asks, incredulously. "Death itself rejects me. I am tethered to this world with black magic and there are precisely four people in the last hundred and thirty years I could even touch with my bare hand without them pulling back in horror at what they see, at what I've seen. At what I've had to do. And thats why I do not lie to you and tell you it will all be okay. It bloody fucking won't. It never fucking /is/. There is always going to be the one you can't get to in time. And they scratch at your armor from the inside and eat at your heart until you question yourself, 'why do it at all'." she states, and she stands, and walks to the ever-present flowers that always seem to show up in hospital rooms. She runs her hands over the blossoms, decides on one, a bright red poppy. Coincidentally here as she plucks the blossom, and then crushes it in her fingers.

    It's almost funny to see her walk; she's so used to boots and sneakers that in heels she seems slightly off balance. John's statement had also thrown her off.

    A few words, and she casts the crushed poppy into the pitcher, with a faint floral scent about it.

    "Your Sychronicity does not scare me, John Constantine. Nor do you."

John Constantine has posed:
    "It's not one, Nettie! It's *everyone fucking one of them*!" John screams back. He gets much louder and he'll call down the hospital staff for sure, the only thing stopping it is the hoarseness of his voice and how just how fucking weak he his physically.

    "Even Chas! Do you *know* how many times he's died since I cast that spell? What when they're gone? All of them? It'll be no time at all if he stays around *me*. This isn't about war, Nettie, it's not about the 'sometimes you can't save one of them'. This is about *everyone* around me dying BECAUSE OF *ME*."

    Monitors beep and blip out of control with his his own heart rate.

    "I saw them down there, all of them, pointing at me! Accusing me with nothing but their expressions! Even they *know* that their deaths are on *me*."

    The last of it, the, "Just *go*," is barely whispered, barely choked out around an actual sob he only mostly swallows down. "I'm tired, just go."

    He sinks back onto the bed and puts that arm up against the world again.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie lets him yell, as hoarse as he is. She takes up the cup, and she downs the rest of the water -- waste not, want not -- and she pours from the pitcher into the not-quite-pepto-colored plastic mug. She turns it three times clockwise, and rests her palms against it. The briefest flash of magic by someone who is so old hat that the hat's got moth-marks in it.

    "Life is shit sometimes, boy." she states, and she sets the mug to the edge of the table within John's reach. "... fifteen times he's passed back and forth between the veil. Or thereabouts. Might have missed one." she states, and she sits down in the chair by John's side. "You need a rest, cobber, but Ravenscar isn't the place to do it. You don't need punishment." she states, and then she goes to stand. She reaches out her hand to touch John's shoulder, if he lets her.

    "You've been punished more than enough."

John Constantine has posed:
    John doesn't pull away this time. She's sure to feel that shoulder hitch here and there from his efforts to fight back the flood gates threatening to crack wide open.

    "You didn't see them. It's not enough. Not even close, Nettie," he whispers. How can he ever be punished enough for the things he's done?

    Seeing them in his dreams? That was one thing, that was blame placed on himself with still room to doubt his own fault. But *seeing them*. All the doubt was ripped away in that moment.

    Nettie's seen John cry before, more than once, more than twice even. But it's different when those flood gates open this time. It's not the quiet thing it usually is. It's loud sobs, snot nose, ugly shit, that. It has him curling up on his side against the pain of it, emotionally, mentally, phyiscally, the everything of it *hurts*.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    No, Nettie had never seen him cry quite like this.

    The hand on his shoulder doesn't leave, in fact it slides over to his next shoulder. She carefully manuvers her way around IV bags and lines and minds the blankets in case anything sensitive is wound up a little, and she breathes out gently against John, and curls him towards her, cradling him, holding him, laying her her head against his head. She doesn't tell him to hush. She doesn't try to verbally console any more. It was out, now, and she was still there.

John Constantine has posed:
    Given the state he was brought here in and everything leading up to that happening, John's exhausted beyond the realm of normal understanding, to the very core of him he's just exhausted. Once the damn's broken, it doesn't take long at all for it to be completely drained.

    He falls asleep there, curled up in Nettie's arms, like a damned toddler. Something that would normally embarrass him to no end.

    Sure things will be at least a little better after getting all that out? But one thing's abundantly clear, this isn't going to be any easy fix. Picking up the pieces and putting them all back to rights is going to take something of a miracle, even for an ever patient and vigilant witch and a best mate in the world.

    Unless the fates intervene and give him back some of what he's lost, his purpose and the will to take his place in a universe that seems to want nothing more than to beat him to the ground.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie just gently keeps stroking John's hair, with him curled up against her. She didn't care. She wouldn't embarrass him. After a while, as his sobbing and shaking begins to ebb, she sings very gently to him:

"There's naught to be afraid in day, while hours and sunlight while away,
and once the turn o' night decends, and fairie lanterns and fog be-wends.
Ever patient, lovely, true, I shall stay and watch over you, 'till brightest stars and heavens rise, and the light opens your lovely eyes.
Sleep my darling, rest your head, in the softness of your lovely bed.
Ever patient, lovely true, here I shall stay and watch o'er you." she breathes out gently, stroking John's hair to settle him into a gentle sleep.

John Constantine has posed:
    After a bit, Chas slips back into the room and settles into an empty chair. He's holding his hat in his hands, running the edges of it slowly through his fingers just to give himself something to do. "We we gonna be able to get him through this one, Net?" he asks in a voice barely over a whisper, pitched low to not risk waking his sleeping friend.

    "That was a real pretty song, but are we?" He sounds a little afraid to hear the answer? In fact, he's already regretting asking the question at all.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie smooths down John's hair again.

    "We'll get him through Chas. After all, a net's good for catchin' one that falls." she states quietly, turning her gaze to the taller man, her look showing her age, her own exhaustion. She wants a cigarette. Only ever smokes around John anymore.

    "You an' I know him maybe the best outta anyone. He runs until he can't. Then he walks, then he crawls. His crawlin's done, a time, I should think. He needs a rest... but we know our John." she frowns.

    "If he disappears, you'll call me?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Haven't been able to get a hold of Meggan since he's been back, but I'm glad you're here. I don't know how to deal with all this by myself." Chas looks pretty exhausted himself. Exhaustion all around, it seems.

    "First one I will call," he agrees to that without hesitation. "Can you stop by the bar? I can't even remember if I locked the bloody door on the way out. He'll probably be bitchin' to leave when he wakes up though."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie reaches for her bag, and of course she pulls out a tarot card from one of her mass-produced decks she sells in the shop. It's already got a red thumb print on it. The card? The Wheel of Fortune. Picked at random (or was it?!)

    "I shall do so and let any hangers-on I see know that you're out. He'll sleep for at least a couple hours. Enough of a rest for him to sort out his mental state -- I hope. An' if he wakes up, give him some water from that pitcher, tell him Nettie said so. Can't have him pissing Scotch and making all the ladies here drunk off the fumes."

John Constantine has posed:
    Chas pushes himself to his feet and moves closer to return the hug he was too distracted to return earlier. "Thank you, Nettie." It's quick that he pulls back and adds, "I'll make sure he drinks it. Don't know what we'd do without you."

    He settles back down into the chair that's really too small to be comfortable for him, but best bet is he's asleep and snoring inside half an hour after Nettie leaves. He's not quite as practiced at crawling along after the shit gets too much as his friend is. ...and the man can sleep *anywhere*.

    It'll be a few hours before she gets the message, 'He's awake. Fucking cranky arse mother fucker, but that's better than the others. Thanks again, Net.'

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie would smile, and kiss Chas on the cheek -- man is probably almost as warded as John himself -- and she makes her exit, quietly complementing the nurses on having some worrisome, difficult patients before she makes her way exhaustedly out of the hospital.

    The card that was left? A Blood Summon. The card could be destroyed, the blood on a summoning circle to summon Nettie herself; not every day you get a highly personal calling card.

    And Chas would get a text back: 'I'm so glad! Give him a kiss for me!'