8316/Trying for a Breakthrough

Trying for a Breakthrough
Date of Scene:	19 October 2021
Location:	Back Room - The Laughing Magician
Synopsis:	John and Chas have a bit of a heart to heart and at least a temporary fix for some of John's trauma of the past LIFETIME is prescribed.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Chas Chandler

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John Constantine has posed:
    John stops, just past the doorway to the backroom, bottle dangling from one hand, but he doesn't turn around. "What *is it*, Chas?" That tone just drips with 'sod off'. But it's not aimed at Chas. It sure sounds like it is, but it's not. It's aimed at *everything*. It's that 'leave me alone' armor going up, clicking into place like plate mail.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas stops behind his best mate. "John... I get it. I do. Shit's been hitting the fan for what... two months now? Little longer?" He reaches out and places a hand on John's shoulder. It's a strong, steady, firm grip. "But running from it isn't going to help. It hasn't been helping."

    He shakes his brother in everyway but blood. "We're almost at the finish line, pushing everyone away now... right when we might need them isn't going to help." He says. "So what if your doing drugs. I don't care. I just want it cleaned up. That's all. *I don't care.* If Zee has a problem with it, I can tell her to fuck off and not judge you. Lots of wise men, shamans, mages, and the like use extras to help get them through shit. If she wants to high horse it because she doesn't, she can take her soapbox and get out of our bar."

John Constantine has posed:
    "Running from it?" John tries to jerk away from that hand because he feels like the slightest touch might just crack him wide open right now. "All I've been doing is running *toward it*."

    He shakes his head, that damned little tilted barely there movement. It generally never means anything good. Unless he sticks his tongue out just a little bit first, then he's about to say something snarky that he *knows* he shouldn't say. There's not tongue action this time, not that Chas can see that from behind.

    "No. No. I don't want to talk about this. I'm fine, mate. I just want a fucking drink." To prove his point, he pulls long and hard from that bottle of scotch. He's numb to it, has been for years, the burn of it. Man really can drink it like it's water.

Chas Chandler has posed:

    "And you can't even talk to me about it?" Chas asks. His tone is firm. He's not hurt by the fact, he's standing his ground, like an obstinate bulldog that just won't move from the one comfortable spot in the house. "Fucking Christ, John. Look at this from the outside for once. You nearly died--again--Phoebe nearly died and there's a whole fucking litany of shit that you're carrying around like your own fucking cross."

     "At least let *me* help you carry it some, man?!" There is hurt there in his voice. "I can't be out there with you, but I can be *here.* You come back and nearly crush yourself because you faint in the middle of doing alchemy. *Alchemy,* John. I'm not asking you to stop being you, but for the love of God you're asking me to stop being me. And I don't know why?"

John Constantine has posed:
    It's not Chas. No, this is *all* John. It's not. No, it is. It's literally that he *can't*. There's so much that John doesn't even know where to start. That he's afraid if he *does* start, he'll fall apart and all the King's Horses and All the King's and all the best mate cabbies in the world won't be able to put him back together again.

    His shoulders slump a little. "I... bloody hell, Chas... I don't know..."

    A beat, not even a whole one and he raises his voice, not quite to screaming levels, but close. I don't bloody well know how to make the words come out!"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas doesn't even flinch. He's heard so much more from Constantine that a bit of a raised voice doesn't phase him. He moves around to stand in front of his friend.

    "You just start. It doens't even have to be in order or make sense. Just start with the first shitshow that comes to mind." He fishes around and hits on something he doesn't like to think about but he has to in order to maybe start the waters flowing. "Hell, we can even cover ground we've already covered." The look he gives John can only mean one thing: the asylum.

     He grabs a chair and drags it to John. Pointing to it he ays, "Hell, have a seat, and treat me like I'm supposed to be treated, John. Don't even look at me as your best mate, right now, I'm your bartender. So... come to me as that." Maybe role-playing will work. It's something that the divorce therapist tried to get him and Renee to do and it did work... for a little while.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I almost called and checked myself back in about two weeks ago, three maybe," John admits in a barely there whisper because it's the first thing that springs to mind after that look. ... but that admission is a big one, not so much big that he admitted it but big in the fact that everything he's holding inside, or at least most of it, he's feeling ... responsible for?

    Punishing himself when the guilt gets to be too much is a John move if there ever was one.

    "Do you remember that night in Liverpool? We were like sixteen, sneaked into a bar. There were two girls there, some Nazi wannabe wanker was giving them a hard time? Wait. You weren't there for that part. I mean you were in the bar, but not there when I went after them. I know you remember the night though, because you were pissed when you found me the next day because you'd looked all night, freakin' out."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas understood the significance of the admission. He appreciated it. And he was grateful that the man didn't go through with it. But it gave him some insight into his friend's state.

    Then John's walking down memory lane. Chas did remember. He remembered walking the streets looking everywhere for John, every one of their haunts, every hideout they had. Nothing. He hadn't fully understood what happened. but he remembered finding John the next morning in a place he *had* looked. John wouldn't ever tell him what had happened.

    "Yeah. I remember" he says. "What about it?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "Those two girls were Leksandria and, Paisi, Phoebe's birth mum. She was pregnant with her at the time, just barely. You were there, with Phoebe and Paulie when I cast the spell to go back. I think I avoided you for like three days after, mate. So I wouldn't have to tell you what I saw." Until now, John's voice has been pretty even, but it cracks now, just a little. "Paisi saved me that night, Leksandria tried to slit my throat in my sleep."

    He *finally* falls into that chair and leans forward to put his bottle on the floor between his legs. His elbows end up on his knees, face buried in his hands.

    "She's stuck there, mate. Paisi, with the rest of them. I saw her tonight. I don't even know... how to tell you what..."

    He stands again, suddenly, nearly tipping the bottle. "Fuck this..." Oh no... Is he going to storm off again? Chas might wish so after John presses a hand to his best mate's forehead and a heal of a palm to his own. "SHOW HIM!" He snaps out in that booming, 'casting' voice.

    ...and there it is, the entire evening, downloaded in techincolor from John's mind to Chas's.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas' eyes roll up in his head as the flood of information from the evening pours into him. He's shaking after and tears are running down his cheeks. "Oh... oh god. Phoebe... we..." He looked torn. Telling her now wouldn't help, would it? When do they tell her then? After they defeat Leksandria and set her free? Do they ever tell her? "She's safe but trapped."

    His brain goes down another avenue for a second as he fully processes what he was given and he frowns."Why did Leksandria try to kill you *then*? She couldn't know... could she?" he asks. "That amount of precognition is... unpredictable."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I'm not even clear on that part. I know she started out wanting to use... she could sense the power I had, they were looking for outside bloodlines for the village. Paisi wouldn't let her, said I was just a boy. You saw her that night though. You asked her if she'd seen me, she lied." All of it's said with his head hung down, elbows back on his knees.

    "Chas..." Quiet, barely there. He finally turns his gaze back up to look his best mate right in the eye. "Tonight? It was a walk in the park compared to the Death God Royale. That's why I can't find the words. Because there aren't any. Not any that can make you really get it. Not anything that I can say that won't sound false because there aren't words. The only way I know how to deal with it, is just keep fucking going."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns at his best friend. "But you're not immortal, John. You've got power. A hell of a lot of it, and endurance and your fucking stubborn enough... but you're not unstoppable. What happens... what happens when you hit that E? When you run out gas?" He leans up against the giant oak table and crosses his arms.

    "I just... I don't want to have to bury you because of words that don't exist." The tears are his own now. Not based on visions.

    He pushes off and kneels before John, doing his best to meet his eyes. "I just want to make sure you can get through what's being thrown at you, even when you're haunted." That things are going to come, he has no doubt.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's denim blues are too bright with his own held back waterworks. He cocks a little crooked grin though. "Death don't stick to me, mate. Just everyone around me." He shakes his head and looks away. A few blinks and those waterworks turned off before even a trickle comes from the faucet.

    He looks back again, voice so soft, hesitant. "Do I damn her? By crossing paths with her before she was even born? Did I somehow set this in motion?" He could he even... Because he's John Constantine, the man that still believes he was responsible for his mother's death just because he was born.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas can't help but let out a chuckle. There's little actual mirth in it though. "Christ John, you can be so down on yourself sometimes, you know?" he says. "You don't even see the other option do you?" he asks.

    "Let me ask you something," he says, meeting his friends eyes again. "If Paisi didn't know who you are... what do you think would've happened to Phoebe?"

John Constantine has posed:
    "I don't know." It's hard to say if Chas' way of looking at things got anywhere beyond John's self-loathing or not. Maybe it'll sink in, maybe it'll process. Right now though, he raises his hand to his face to rub at his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. He's pushing so hard it's a wonder that he's not just popping them out of his head.

    He's trying, again, to turn the waterworks off before they start.

    But he can't stop the little hitch of a breath, the way his voice cracks when he says, "I'm so fuckin' tired, mate."

    To the very center of him, so fucking tired. He's so far *beyond* tired that tired's a thousand miles in his rearview right now.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "I have a good idea" Chas says. "She'd be dead. Sacrificed by Leksaria and used to fuel whatever power that Leksaria and her demon patron wants." He sighs. "I know you're barely registering, but I'm planting a seed. You saved her by being there that night. You saved her as payment. Paisi saved your life, and you're balancing the scales by saving her daughter."

    He sighs again and looks over his friend. "Your too far down the road that sleep can't come... even though one of the hard parts is over" the cabbie replies with a nod. He's been there. He's seen it. He knows the feeling. "I can't dose you to sleep, you'll just puke and stay up to be stubborn. I can't force you to sleep... I don't think divine intervention could do that." He sighs and puts his hand on his friend's knees. "But you gotta find a way to recharge man. And the blow and pills aren't the way to do it. They'll just force you awake for a bit and then you crash... like this..." he gestures.

    "Short term solution... but what you need is a long term one" Chas says, running a hand through his hair and stroking his beard. "And I'm at a loss for what to do for it." He snaps his fingers. "You're the wise man. What would you do if someone came to you with the same issue. Couldn't sleep? Tired to the point of falling over. But can't sleep." He frowns. "I feel like we've dealt with that sort of thing before, haven't we? Nightmare demon or some shit? Not the same... but... take out the demon, because a quick banishment isn't going to help you. But... same problem. You're the wise man. Give me a solution."

John Constantine has posed:
    "It's not that I can't sleep, Chas. It's that I can't stay asleep." John lowers his hand from his eyes. His voice is still that cracking trembling thing. "I don't *want* to sleep, because as soon as I do... I wake up screaming."

    Nightmares, they've always been a problem for John, even night terrors. Sometimes once a night, sometimes he can go for three or four days without one. They're always bad though, not just... normal old nightmares, but terrifying things, *horrible* things.

    "*Every* time, I fall asleep. It's been going on for about a month now. I fall asleep, wake up screaming. No matter how many times I fall back asleep, mate. If I fall asleep five times in a night, I wake up screaming five times a night." That's a new revelation and a little insight. But there's still no *solution*.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas narrows his eyes. "What do you see?" he asks, his own eyes drying enough that he can wipe away the residue of the tears. "What are your night terrors of, John?" Insight required some depth to be of use, and Chas was one of the only people that John would let dig.

John Constantine has posed:
    "What don't I see?" John asks. "All of it, Astra of course," but that's been the norm for years and years, pretty much *the* thing he has night terrors about. "I saw their faces, Chas."

    Oh, there's that little titled shake of his head. So close, yet so far away. John pushes himself to his feet, shoving that heavy chair back a little in the process, tipping over that bottle of scotch at Chas' feet.

    "I found out who her patron is, who's giving Leksandria all this power. I got a name. I asked Nermal. I'm working on the right circle to summon the demon. If we kill the demon, we cut that bitches power down to next to nothing." The change of direction is nearly head spinning. "I've almost got it, missing something. I have to figure it out. It has to be perfect."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns. "Do we have what we need to kill it?" he asks. "I mean, yeah you need to be able to summon it in order to kill it. But at the same time, step 2 is sort of important, ya know?" He tables the night terrors for a moment. He'll come back to it in time, but he has to think. He has an idea, but he needs his friend somewhat lucid to bring it up and shop talk helps with that a lot of the time.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not yet, but we will have. Midnite has some contacts that might no some things." Midnite again, great. John's gonna owe the Voodoo Priest out the *ass* by the time this is over. But it's a small price to pay.

    "I have to get the circle right though." Because it's what he can do *now* and an excuse to get away from this conversation. His heart's racing, he's starting to sweat, his breaths are all shallow and weird. He lets out a strangled little sound of protest, a little moan of a thing. "I need to go to Whitechapel, don't I?" It's almost like he's asking *permission* to go see Paul. 'Is it okay, really okay if I leave the country for a hot minute when I can get back in a blink if needed?'

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "I think you might need to. At least for a day or two. Paul can ward your dreams and you can get some much needed rest." He looked at the vial still steeping. "Do you want me to give it to her..." He shakes his head. "No. You should be here for it, what am I thinking?"

    He is thinking that sending the other parent on a vacation for a few days might just save *John's* life and he can thus save them both. But he knows John will want to be here for Phoebe's recovery.

John Constantine has posed:
    "No, it'll only weaken the magic enough for me to exorcise the rest of it. I have to be here. I'll be back tomorrow. I just need a *night*." Just one, but damned if he doesn't sound like he feels fucking guilty about taking it. Seriously, someone needs to work on that guilt complex of his.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas nods. "Look, John. It'll be alright. Get your night's rest, come back at least moderately detoxed... and we can tackle the next obstacle."

    He patted the man's knee and rose himself. "I'll hold down the fort. I can do that much."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I saw their faces when I was in the underworld. I saw them, Lester... all of them, the whole crew..." Well the ones that aren't still among the living. "They were all pointing at me, Chas, blaming me. I see that when I close my eyes."

    And with that said, being unable to stand there and discuss it further right now, John opens a portal and steps through it. To the House for an overnight bag and then to Whitechapel.

    Tomorrow will be a better day, until it isn't. Because lately, all the days ending in Y are nothing but a blur of danger, demons, death, Silks and scotch. Kinda sucks dunnit? What's that saying? It can only get better from here? Hopefully that kicks in the second Tuesday of next week sometime, right?