by Lady Midath
"No more magic, no more death. I'm giving it all up. I'm walking away."
"You are, are you John?"
I turned to stare down into the eyes of my beloved Kit. She was regarding me in that old Irish way of her. Shrewd, cool and wise beyond her years. She knew me so well did this dark haired Irish lass. Knew every bit of this miserable creature that called himself John Constantine.
"I am Kit." I told her. "This is it for me and magic now. I've had enough. I'm...I'm..."
"Scared?" She was still looking at me in that unnerving way that she had. There was no bull shitting this lass. She could see straight through my lies and bollocks. She had my heart and soul. I could no more lie to her than cut my own hands off.
I nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'm scared."
"So you should be John." her voice was softer now, as gentle as the rain that was beginning to fall around us.
"I should be?" I looked at her, looked deep into those deep blue-green eyes that had captivated me from the first time I'd met her.
"All the things that you have done John." She reminded me gently. "All the things that have been done to you. Of course you should be scared. You've fought angels and demons alike. You've helped an elemental find the true meaning of what he really is and helped birth his daughter. You've done things that would have sent a normal man insane. You should be scared."
I nodded. "You're Kit. I am scared, scared of dying, scared of living. Scared of everything. That's me John Constantine, the most frightened man in the world."
"Brendan's death wasn't your fault." Kit whispered gently, taking my hand. "None of this was your fault. He knew what he was doing every time he took a drink. I'd seen my own father go the same way. He wouldn't listen to me. he wanted to live the way he did. And he died for it."
"He was my best friend." I could hear the grief and the hurt in my voice and I despised myself for it. Kit was right, Brendan Finn had died the way he had wanted, and I had even manage to save his soul for him. Still, I hurt. I wanted things to be the way they used to be. I didn't want to face this aching void alone.
"You're not scared of death John." Kit said, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "You are scared of being alone."
"Yes Kit." I whispered. "I can't be alone..."
Then a wake into the still darkness of the night. The dream gone, fading away into the cold reality of wakefulness.
I am alone in the bed. Kit had left me months before. She could no longer cope with the life I led and I could not blame her. She was gone and I am alone.
I am scared, but why is it that I can only admit that in my dreams? Why can I only aknowledge it when I am asleep?
Why can't I pick up the phone and tell her that I am scared and lonely and nothing without her?
Because I am scared that she will tell me that she knows...and that she no longer cares.