#jhm

Going to the witches had been your last resort.

It had been established for centuries that things worked better when your paths were parallel, not intersecting. But John Henry had insisted that this was bigger than just the status quo, that if Michael and whatever he was could be stopped, that the help of the supreme and her witches were a necessity.

He hadn’t made much sense before he left, and though you hated to agree with Ariel, he’d seemed almost insane. But who were you to argue with… whatever it was that had gotten him so worked up? You knew your lover, and beyond that, you knew he was a smart man. Beyond that, he was rational, he wouldn’t go out of his way to abandon his job without good reason.

So he’d gone to seek out Cordelia Goode, to fix what Ariel and the others had broken. But it had been days and you’d heard absolutely nothing from him.

Ariel had suggested that maybe he’d simply needed a break- that he didn’t work at Hawthorne anymore anyway, so maybe he’d simply needed a break from everything and forgotten to tell you he was leaving. You assumed he simply hadn’t been told why John Henry had really left.

But you knew John Henry. He’d never failed to let you know when he arrived somewhere- especially not in matters like this. And your lover was many things, but forgetful? Not one of them.

So you’d tried reaching out, tried calling, tried casting spell after spell, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t feel him anymore. It was agony.

Which led you here, reaching out to your ‘sisters’. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and before all else, your loyalty lay with your man. So that loyalty led you to the front doorstep of Robichaux academy.

The supreme answers the door, and as if sensing your distress, she frowns, “What happened?”

Your voice is tight, and somewhere in your gut you know the answer, you just don’t want to hear it, “Did Mr. Moore ever make it down here? He needed to speak with you.”

Cordelia shakes her head, looking confused, “If he did, I never heard from him.”

“Oh.” And suddenly you don’t feel that agony anymore, just a numb sadness, “Could I come in? Please? It’s urgent.”

As you’re led inside, a shuddering exhale leaves you, closing your eyes for a moment. He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he can’t be- Despite your heart screaming that he can’t be dead, there’s a cold heavy feeling in your gut, and you understand why no amount of magic had let you feel him.

The following days pass in a haze of numb grief, simply going through the motions. Not a soul could coax even a smile from you. Why should they? John Henry was gone. Your John Henry.

Cordelia had sent one of her girls on a trip to discover more about Michael and whatever he was- some blonde bitchy girl. It was all you could think about most days- whatever was behind Michael had been enough to get your lover murdered.

And then it had come back from Myrtle Snow of all people… Ariel had had John Henry murdered. You’d cried after returning to your room, knowing that someone you’d both trusted had been behind it.

While you hadn’t disclosed the nature of your relationship to the witches, you were sure the dull of your demeanor must’ve indicated that you’d been close to John. Yet nobody asked. Something that was probably for the better.

When the witches had asked your help in tracking down… something at a gas station, you’d agreed, unsure what it was. Behold had been there when you’d left, only muttering a quiet, “I’m sorry.” to you.

But you could feel it. John Henry’s energy was here, at least to a degree. It was faint, but the strongest you’d felt it in days. And for just a moment, you can breathe again.

It’s almost staggering, having to hold onto one of the pillars to steady yourself. Breathe in, breathe out. The weight is gone and for the first time in days, you’re breathing again.

But as quickly as it started, that flicker joy of is quickly stomped out when you realize why you can feel him so strongly here.

The witches are giving you strange looks, but beneath it is pity. They say they might be able to bring him back, but… there’s no body. Any ashes that might’ve come from him are long gone.

Shaky breath after shaky breath leaves you. They’d done it on purpose. Ariel knew you couldn’t bring back ashes.

“I need to take a walk. Let me know if you need me back.” Your voice is tight, immediately walking off to cry in peace. But your body freezes, not of your own accord.

“Stay.”

Your eyes shut tight as you find yourself walking back to where his energy was strongest, “Fuck off. I can’t- why do I have to be here? Fuck you! Why are you making me…”

“Boys.” One of the witches mutters under her breath, then nods, “Zoe.”

The visual of ashes- John’s ashes, flying through the air back into a pile at the witch’s feet has you silenced. In that moment, if it weren’t for the magic holding you in place, you know you would have collapsed.

Then, one of the witches- Mallory, you think her name is, uses a magic you’ve never seen before. Not from demons, not from witches, and certainly not from your own students.

It’s as if time is reversing itself, and before you know it, your lover is standing in front of you., chest heaving as he looked around in a frantic panic. Alive, as if he’d never been gone.

In that moment no magic could force you to stay still.

Transmutation had always come easy to you. And going to him had been the easiest thing you’d done in ages. He’s in your arms for the first time in days.

John Henry smells of smoke as you pepper kisses along his face, and every bit of him you can reach. And though he’d always smelled of smoke, this was a different kind. He’s shaking, so are you. When you kiss his mouth, you find he tastes of ashes.

From behind you, you hear a quiet, “Well damn.” It’s the bitchy one, you think. You don’t care much, your priorities are the man before you.

Once he gets his bearings, he rasps, “What I’ve seen… what I’ve learned… is a matter of life or death.”

The journey back to Robicheaux is a blur, your hand clasped tightly to his. It’s not until hours after you arrive, and he’s filled them in on everything he’s learned, that you finally get him alone.

He’s still shaken up, preferring to sit rather than stand. When he speaks, his voice is a rasp, scratchy in the way his beard has always scratched at your skin.

"When did you know?" He asks quietly as the pipes of the shower squeak to life.

The falling of water serves as background noise while you help your lover shed his clothes.

"Know what?"

"That I was... gone."

You fall silent, not wanting to think about it. You'd only had him back a few hours, going back to those days without him- even if only mentally, was not something you had any desire to do. But you owe this to him, don't you?

"When I came to see Cordelia and she said she hadn't seen you since Michael's trials. Ariel tried convincing me that you'd needed a break and that’s why you left- he didn't think you'd told me where you were going, I suppose," You admit with a deep sigh, shedding your own clothes and climbing in the shower with him. Deciding it's too serious, you crack a weak joke, "It was lonely, putting up with their bullshit without someone to talk my shit with."

"Yeah?" He cracks a small smile, an exhausted one more than amused.

"Yeah."

The rest of the shower goes by quietly, the only sound the falling of water. John Henry's eyes close as you wash his hair, rough but gentle hands ridding it of the ash that still lingers. He leans into your touch as you wash the remnants of the smoke that still lingers from his skin. A quiet sound of content leaves him, and for the first time since he's been brought back, you feel his body begins to relax.

It's only later, when you're both squeezed into the bed you'd been staying in, that you feel his heart rate fully even out. The witches had offered him his own bed, but it had become increasingly obvious that you would not be letting him out of arm's reach and that he had no desire to let you leave his sight. Which had led to your current, squished predicament.

Absentmindedly, you trace patterns over the bare skin of his chest, feeling each breath of his and subconsciously matching your own to his.

"We're going to have to go back, eventually." He murmurs, eyes closed.

You don't answer for a long time. A long sigh before, "I know. Not yet though. I just got you back."

"If they would kill me, just for the sake of Michael. they would kill the students too. An entire generation of us, could all be gone in an instant."

“I know, just… we’ll talk about it tomorrow, ‘kay?” You murmur, pressing an absentminded kiss to his temple, “Let’s just… wait a minute.”

John Henry lets out a deep breath. You already know never take the sound of his breathing for granted again. Eventually he nods, wrapping an arm loosely around you. “Yeah, okay.”