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matrixrefugee ([personal profile] matrixrefugee) wrote2005-08-27 11:15 pm
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[livejournal.com profile] 31_days "Wait for me whenever darkness falls"

I'm taking a break from this tomorrow, since I can't come up with anything that fits "Gilgamesh". I had a hard enough time with this one today... I won't say I'm drying up for ideas -- I *do* have two or three ideas for "Hatred is Holy" (Monday the 29th's theme), after all -- but work and my sinus troubles have been getting to me lately.

Title: Out from the Shadows
Day/Theme: August 27: Wait for me whenever darkness falls
Series: "Constantine"
Character/Pairing: John/Angela (Just friends, and a few thoughts of what could have been...)
Rating: PG

Note: Takes place at the very end of the movie

The evening after Isabelle's funeral, Angela had gotten a call from John Constantine: He had something for her and he wanted to meet her at Ravenscar that evening to give it to her. She agreed to meet him there, at the spot where Isabelle had fallen to her death...

Night was just closing in over the city, the street lights and the lights in dozens of windows below making up for the lack of stars in the smog-hazed sky above. Perhaps it was fitting that she came to this spot, where the troubles and the wierd happens of the past several days had started, bring the circle around.

She owed John one, really, since he'd saved her from something worse than death, and he'd pulled Isabelle's soul from the depths of hell itself. A weaker woman would have considered that proof that they were meant to be together, but Angela knew better. John and she were too much alike: besides having that same burdensome talent, of spotting evil spirits, they were both lone wolves who worked better on their own, or with a partner they kept at a professional distance. Anything more would have been extremely ill-advised. The best she could do, to repay what he'd done, was to alert him if something else wierd cropped up. The LAPD had had its share of strange cases on its hands, and it would certainly help to know a preternatural detective, to take care of the nasty things that crept out of the dim fringes of the world around them.

Hearing movement behind her, the beat of a well-travelled pair of oxfords on the rooftop, she turned, following the sound. John emerged from the shadows of the bulkhead door onto the roof, only his pale face and the white of his shirt seperating him from the gloom. Any other woman might have run to meet him, and thus annoyed him, but Angela wasn't that sort. She let him come to her, like the lone wolf that he was...