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Done with This

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“You never listen to me, Chas!” Zed threw her hands into the air, done with the argument before it had even begun. It was irrational, this feeling of worry that angered her so, but it had also become inevitable that they would reach this crossroads. Time and time again she watched him die, in the service of John Constantine. At first there had been amazement and awe, but that had gradually grown into a burning, simmering anger. They all had their gifts, and this was his, but why did have to do it, over and over, before her eyes. Couldn’t he see it had become harder and harder for her to bear? His pain, his suffering, his death over and over and over again?

Envisioning it one more time did little more than piss her off again.

He always came back…there was nothing to fear…except the possibility that one day he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t…and wouldn’t know the truth.

Growling she pounded her fists upon the door she had slammed closed between them, banging her head against the wood in an effort to shed no tears. She wouldn’t cry over this. She wouldn’t. John needed Chas to do this…it was his choice. She did not have to like it. She only had to accept it.

Her head shot up, a vision overlaying the wood of the door she should be seeing. A hand, his big gentle hand, pressed to the opposite side, shoulders slumped and head hung forward to press against the wood as hers had been moments before. His eyes closed, his lips moving in silent words that she could not hear, but she did not need to hear them. She could feel it, his pain, his regret…his understanding.

Chas had listened. He had heard…her words and all the silent thoughts filling the spaces between each one. He knew what she could not say, but like John, he could not let the knowing stop him. Not this time. Not when lives depended on his choices.

It should have made her feel better. It should have made her happy. Instead, all she felt was done. Let him do what he had to do. She did not have to watch it. Not this time. Not ever again.