And now you're questioning it? I think we all go through that, at some point. Our reasons for fighting change. Have to change, because people change. The world changes.
[ Spinning the doohickey is about on-par with what most reasonable people would want to do. Just look at it.
Anyway, Finn opts to not physically bust down the door on this occasion, possibly after some minor internal debating. He does walk through, though. Like a cool, slightly distracted guy who, in the half second where he's looking over at his own desk and not at John yet, opens with: ]
Sorry. [ For what? He doesn't know. It's a blanket apology in case he was interrupting something Official. ] Have you seen anything that looks like--
[ Then he actually does look at John, since he's talking to him, and immediately shuts his mouth. A complex series of emotions crosses his face. Confusion is involved. It's mostly confusion. But relief comes in at a close second.
The admittedly very useless part of his brain (best described as a hooded kermit meme) worries about having to punch his commanding officer in the face in the event that it gets "confiscated". Do they do that here? He doesn't think they do that here. ]
Like exactly what you're holding. [ Man. Getting a question answered before he even finishes asking it. That's wild. Never mind that, he guesses. ] Where was it?
[ Even Finn's not so low on trust levels that he'd entertain the idea of John stealing it. He's dumb in a different way from that. ]
Floor of the training facility. Must've been fallen out of your pocket when you were clearing the building.
[John tosses Finn the doohickey, underhand. He doesn't question for a moment whether or not it's actually his. Finn's never lied to him, as far as he knows, and if he did? John's pretty sure he would see it written across his face.
The kid's about as subtle as a brick.]
Reasons you should make sure your gear is secured before throwing yourself out a window. Our vests don't have twenty compartments just to look cool.
[He's not really ragging on him. It's just an easy out to keep this conversation from getting awkward. John doesn't need a thank you, or for Finn to apologize. He does enough of that already. What this thing is, or why Finn has it on him, even during training, really isn't John's business.
That said, he is curious. Even after weeks of working together, they still don't know each other that well. It's almost funny. John's never really worked with anyone as evasive as he is.]
[ Finn gives it a quick once-over once he catches it, just to make sure it didn't get too scuffed up or potentially damaged from the fall. What he sees is satisfying enough, combined with getting it back immediately, to relax his shoulders. The corners of his mouth twitch. ]
I was trying a different pocket.
[ So yeah, fair point. He thinks it wouldn't hurt to start leaving it at the apartment. Or at least at his desk, or in his jacket or something. He's lucky it's still in one piece right now.
And the question saves him the trouble of trying to ask if John got a look at it. He has no idea how he planned to navigate that one without accidentally sounding accusatory about it. So Finn mulls over how to answer, a little grateful not to have to broach it himself.
It would be easy to back out of answering. Say he has somewhere to be, never mention it again. To shut off the projector and do that, never think about this, never mention it again. Hope that John forgets, like it's not important. But he thinks about Slip's face, how few people have ever seen it, how many fewer have seen it and thought it was worth caring about (just Poe and Rey, here, only him back home).
He thinks about how readily John gave the holoprojector back. How related it is to a conversation that he honestly should have had with him sooner. Backing out doesn't sit right. ]
He was a member of my old fireteam. We, uh. [ He hesitates. Offers a twitchy shrug. Deliberately avoids addressing the friend issue for the moment. It'll be easier to explain once he's laid the full picture out. ] We called him Slip. Just a nickname. Kept things shorter on the radios.
Y'know, there's a chair over there for a reason. So you can sit in it.
[John kicks his booted feet up on his desk, leaning back in his reclining chair stolen from some other department with a bigger budget. While his posture says, "I don't give a fuck," what he's really saying is "Relax."
Finn and Chyler are two peas in a pod. Serious. Always on. Probably because they both grew up too hard, too fast. In survival mode. John didn't have the same experience. Whether that makes him more or less qualified to lead them remains to be seen. He'd like to think it grants him a different perspective, that allows him to see strengths, and weaknesses, they might not know exist, but he could also be full of shit.
John has no doubt in his mind that both of them, despite their younger years, have suffered as much loss as he has, and ceased being children a long time ago, if they were ever really children at all.
He hopes they can be, someday. Whenever, and however, that would look like. Even if it means picking up stupid hobbies, or riding a skateboard to work while going grey. Whatever makes them happy.
John only really started to enjoy life in his late thirties. Blooming late is better than never.]
Slip. That's a good call-sign. I've had a few, in my day. Most of them embarrassing. Where I'm from, if it doesn't make you cringe? It isn't a solid call-sign.
You losing that doohickey? That's a 'butter fingers', right there. Butters for short, probably. Or maybe buttfinger. Because it's the air force. We're mature, like that.
[ He's never heard anyone call Slip a good nickname.
More importantly, Finn, who was sitting down prepared to mind his own business, inasmuch as a person can mind their own business while trying to explain it to another person, looks legitimately alarmed. Like there's a moment of pure, unabashed concern considering this prospect, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do with it.
He says, with the utmost and borderline-kind sincerity: ]
You do not have permission to start calling me buttfinger.
[ John is a demon from a hell army, he guesses. What else is new. But there's still that... familiarity in how he talked about it all. Sort of a warmth. Friendliness. That's what can't translate well, probably. That concept of a given closeness.
Finn can never contextualize that with his old life. Just doesn't mesh. He shakes his head. ]
I don't have to ask permission to call you buttfinger, but I won't. Because I'm nice.
Besides, if I was gonna to call you anything, it'd be fumbles. Much cuter.
[He grins, and sips his coffee. What's the point in having people under your command if you can't tease the hell out of them? Sure there's the whole leadership, teamwork, and support angle, but there's definitely a taking the piss angle, too. And that angle might be John's favourite.]
Yeah, didn't think so. From what I've heard you guys had it pretty rough. That wasn't my experience, but it's not unheard of where I'm from. Child soldiers. Innocent people forced into fighting a monster's war for them. I had a choice, but not everyone did.
Some crap seems to stay the same, no matter which galaxy you're in.
[ He's not sure if he's relieved to hear all that or not.
Some of it, he figures, is obvious enough in the way he is, the way he works. It follows him whether he likes it or not. Some of it John could have heard from Poe. A fair heads up to a commanding officer. Maybe from Chyler, who he didn't swear to secrecy or anything.
Some of it isn't anyone else's to tell. In any case he'd rather not retread old ground. Time to hope for the best and assume the worst. Finn looks down, flexes his jaw. ]
Enough to put two and two together. I know you came from a bad place under a bunch of assholes, and you deserve better.
You at least deserve to make your own choices.
[Another sip of his coffee. Trying to keep this casual for both of them.
John isn't the most emotionally revealing man, but if Finn thinks he catches John's eyes going hard for just a moment, a spark of something hit and dark in them as he looks across the room and not at Finn, he wouldn't be wrong.
A breath, and the moment passes. Gone, but not forgotten. If John had his way he'd blow the First Order out of existence.
Except it's never that simple, is it? Because the First Order is made up of people like Finn.]
For what it's worth, I don't care where you're from. Only what you choose to do, going forward.
You're one of my guys now. That means it's my job to back you up no matter what. Remember?
[ Finn, who is never good at being casual, doesn't bother pretending to be when he looks back up. His face softens like he does it for a living.
He tries to control who knows. Who finds out. He doesn't want people he's met to hear it and think worse of him. Or, god forbid, better of him. It feels like being less of a person either way.
John doesn't leave room for wondering. Better that way. Better straightforward. Doesn't leave time for dread to sink in and spread, for the resigned expectation that what was enough yesterday won't be enough anymore after this. ]
Right. [ Normally he's the one who ends up saying that kind of thing to someone. "We're a team, we're in this together." A lot of the people he knows here, the ones he cares about most, they're used to having to stand on their own or having to hold themselves apart somehow. Have their own hangups about asking for help. He doesn't know the feeling.
Everything good he's ever managed, he only managed because he wasn't alone.
It's weird being on the other end of the sentiment. His first instinct is to think it sounds nice and to move on without putting any faith to it, and his second instinct is to be ashamed that the first instinct keeps rearing its head, regardless of the fact that John's never done anything to him or to Chyler to merit the suspicion.
It means a lot to hear that, still. Either way. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. ]
I made my choice. I found better. Pretty sure I wouldn't be here if I hadn't.
[ Not that he thinks RR-1 is a part of 'better' or anything shut up. He's very serious and stoic.
He doesn't let "deserving" factor into anything if he can help it. That's a slippery slope for anyone who's promised any of their friends that they're trying to be kind to themselves. ]
[ She's taken by surprise and goes down with a startled noise. For a second she just lays there, exhausted, staring at the roof. Then she looks at John. ]
My friend Tom... we shared a wall in the dormitories. [ She stops, suddenly not sure she wants to give away a memory that small and precious. What if John thinks it's stupid? ]
We would knock on the wall before bed, he started it, one day when I was mad at him. Three knocks, over and over, until I knocked back. And then we just... We kept doing it.
[ She looks back at the ceiling. ] When I go to bed I keep waiting for him to knock. [ Almost too quickly: ] It's stupid, I know it is.
[ For a second she doesn't answer, just closes her eyes and tilts her head back to rest against the bars that support the railing. She could just not tell him.
(Except she remembers him hugging her, and she finds herself wishing for that again.) ]
No. It's not stupid. Stuff like that is what's important. What keeps you fighting for the right reasons. Those are the details you don't want to forget. I don't keep track of how many battles I've won or lost, or the people I've killed, those aren't the things I want to remember.
[John grabs the comforter, folded back at the end of the bed, and drapes it up over her. He doesn't linger, it would be too much to linger, for both of them, so he stands up and turns the lights off instead. Rodney's bed creaks in the dark as he collapses on top of it, not uncomfortable with the way that it smells like him.
Glad Rodney is still here, and it isn't all he has left of him, because sometimes that's all you have, when you lose someone.
The crackle of their voice over a radio, the scent of their sweat, or three knocks on a wall.]
[John's voice raises slightly with alarm. He's already pulling on his boots, throwing his jacket back on to head outside while he's still on the horn with her.]
I could use some fresh air. Be there in a minute.
[And he is. Didn't even wait for the elevator, just ran up the stairs all the way to the top. He stops just inside the door to catch his breath, and steel himself, before stepping out onto the rooftop.]
Goodnight, sir. [ She curls under the blanket, running her fingers along its hem, back to him, face to the wall. And she waits. She waits until she thinks it's safe, until she thinks he's probably asleep and can't hear her do it.
Then she reaches out and very softly knocks against the wall. Under her breath: ] Goodnight, Tom.
[ Chyler turns her face toward the pillow, closes her eyes, and sleeps. ]
[She looks up when he steps out onto the roof. ] I like it.
[ It reminds her of Tom, his little overlook. It's not as safe to dangle her feet over the edge up here, which doesn't mean she hasn't done it. There's something comforting in the electricity of nerves that comes with hanging yourself over open air. Like the body saying Yes, you're alive, it's okay.
There's probably something wrong with that. John probably wouldn't like it if he knew.
She hugs her jacket around herself without getting up. ]
Particularly when it's cold. No one's up here when it's cold. Toothless, sometimes, with Hiccup. But they're not bad company.
[Finn softens, John softens too. It's hard not to care about Finn. He's a good kid, and John's always had a weakness for though. Finn reminds him of Aiden in so many ways. In the skeptical tilt of his head, careful optimism, and fierce loyalty.
He leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on the desk, jaw in the palm of his hand.]
I've been meaning to ask you, how've you been liking this kind of work, and being on the team? Questions, concerns, or whatever. You don't have to have an opinion, but if you do I'd like to hear it.
I think we've been doing pretty well so far, given our limited resources and manpower, but I don't always see everything.
[John walks over to her, pulling off his own jacket and dropping it on her head.
He folds his arms over his chest, looking over the edge of the rooftop at the glittering skyline. It's a nice view. Would be nicer if he hadn't come up here half expecting to see Chylar standing on a ledge, mentally prepared to talk her down.
John knows what war does to a person. It makes you seek out quiet, dark places, to indulge your quiet, dark thoughts. Away from where anyone can stop you from thinking them.
He's stood on the ledge before.]
What kind of name is Toothless? That one of those weird as hell vikings? Be careful around them. They're nuts, and they probably have lice. Or fleas. Maybe both.
[ John "not actively trying to care and going full ride-or-die in a matter of weeks anyway" Sheppard in motion.
If there's one thing to be said for living with Poe Dameron as long as he has here, it's that Finn is used to being caught off-guard by seemingly innocuous things. He thought he was totally used to it and prepared to expect it at any moment, once. And he was wrong. He hasn't even started trying to tell himself he's used to getting caught off-guard by John yet.
And the line of questioning certainly catches him off-guard. Not so much because it doesn't seem like the kind of thing John would do. He asked for opinions the first day they met. It's more because Finn's never been asked anything like this before.
First Order aside, even the Resistance never got around to actually... asking if he wanted to join up or stay with them. How he was liking it or whatever. There were a lot of assumptions made and a lot of things that just happened. ]
This is a good team. We work well together. Pretty sure you know that already. [ John absolutely already thinks this is a good team. Finn's calling that one like he sees it.
He doesn't shift to match John's change in posture. Just keeps contemplating him. ]
I like the work. Keeps things interesting. I didn't get raised for covert ops, so it's been good to get in the extra training and experience. I think Chyler's good. A lot of people would waste their time using kid gloves or go overboard trying to grind down what's good about her. Haven't seen you hit either of those walls yet.
[ Look. His standards for his own environment vary by day and circumstance. His standards for the treatment of Chyler Silva are high and on full blast at all times. He was on her team before he knew John Sheppard existed. Another one of those different-but-the-same people he's met here, who he catches impossible to define reflections and understandings with.
[Once Tony figures out where the coordinates are actually pointing to, the temptation to grab the armor and jet over is high. However, the likelihood that there's going to be a fair amount of drinking is also high, and Tony's learned the lesson about mixing alcohol and armor.
Even without it, Tony's mysterious new friend is not hard to find. There's only so many people drinking on top of the wall at any given time. He hopes.]
Owner of a lonely heart, table for two? [He calls it before he starts picking his way over. Who knows how drunk the guy is already and Tony is not actually looking to startle him right off the wall.
He does invite himself to settle right down next to him, though.]
Nice place. I mean, the decor leaves a little something to be desired.
The view's what counts. Personally, I think the barbed wire and security cameras add a little... je ne sais quoi.
[John's sitting on the ledge overlooking the wilds and badlands past the city border, legs dangling over the side, and trusty twelve pack at his side.
He's got a buzz on, but he's not wasted yet. That's six beers in. Sometimes eight, if he's eaten that day. Which he hasn't. Why perform basic human functions when you can dick around on the internet and feel sorry for yourself?
Given that the wall is long enough to circle the entire city, he doesn't have to slide over to make room for Tony. John does glance up at him when he sits, finally putting a face to the anonymous text. Talk about a blind not-date. They'd gone into this knowing absolutely nothing about each other.
Except that they're both probably alcoholics. And definitely lonely.
So he offers Tony a beer.]
I don't know who I was expecting, but it wasn't you.
[Tony agrees with a kind of deadpan solemnity, but he does accept the beer with a nod of thanks. He glances out over the landscape as he takes a drink, noting the definitive lack of nothing much to see.]
So is this a heights thing or are you just feeling dramatic?
[Honestly, it could go either way. And Tony would understand both options, really.]
[It’s nowhere near the sense of comfort and peace he found in the view from the Atlantis control tower balcony, or even a beer on the pier, but it’s as close as he can get.
John misses Atlantis. His city. His people. His job. His responsibility. His purpose. Being too busy to feel alone. Too engaged in just surviving, and making it through the next day, and maybe the day after that, to put much thought into his future, or lack thereof.
All this time to himself, in his own head, is killing him. One of many reasons he’s screwed his way through what feels like half of Riverview. An endless stream of faces he doesn’t really want to remember, minus the few he’s seen more than once, who are somehow more friends than fuckbuddies. It isn’t about the sex. He’s so much more pathetic than that. John hates being left by himself, with himself.
Probably because he hates himself.
That’s where John’s head is while he drinks in silence beside Tony. It’s rude, really, considering he has company. He leans back on one arm to look at him, swirling what’s left of his beer in the can.]
Are we doing names, or is the anonymous thing sticking?
[And that does explain a lot, actually. Tony's known a whole lot of airmen in his life, and that's discounting his own flying tendencies at the moment. There's something freeing about having a birds-eye view on things. Or maybe they're all just adrenaline junkies and they like the idea that they could fall at any moment. Either works.
He does flick a quick glance over though, smiling faintly. He'd wondered, in that moment or so of silence, if this was going to be one of those drink-as-fast-as-possible sessions, but the fact that he's out here at all means his knew friend probably doesn't want to be alone, despite the location.
And hey, if Tony's good at anything, it's distraction.]
As amusing as it would be to have you calling me Mr X or something, it's Tony. Mr Stark if you're nasty.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-15 01:11 am (UTC)[He knows her. Tomorrow, she'll probably be beating herself up about this. John could never be harder on Chyler than she is on herself.
To punctuate his point, he shoves Chyler by one shoulder and back onto the bed. He's a lightweight, but she's a feather. A seventeen-year-old girl.]
I'll take Rodney's bunk, he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon anyway.
And I'm not taking complaints.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-15 01:14 am (UTC)[John's worried. He can't help it.]
Where are you, Chy?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-15 03:13 am (UTC)Anyway, Finn opts to not physically bust down the door on this occasion, possibly after some minor internal debating. He does walk through, though. Like a cool, slightly distracted guy who, in the half second where he's looking over at his own desk and not at John yet, opens with: ]
Sorry. [ For what? He doesn't know. It's a blanket apology in case he was interrupting something Official. ] Have you seen anything that looks like--
[ Then he actually does look at John, since he's talking to him, and immediately shuts his mouth. A complex series of emotions crosses his face. Confusion is involved. It's mostly confusion. But relief comes in at a close second.
The admittedly very useless part of his brain (best described as a hooded kermit meme) worries about having to punch his commanding officer in the face in the event that it gets "confiscated". Do they do that here? He doesn't think they do that here. ]
Like exactly what you're holding. [ Man. Getting a question answered before he even finishes asking it. That's wild. Never mind that, he guesses. ] Where was it?
[ Even Finn's not so low on trust levels that he'd entertain the idea of John stealing it. He's dumb in a different way from that. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-15 09:14 pm (UTC)[John tosses Finn the doohickey, underhand. He doesn't question for a moment whether or not it's actually his. Finn's never lied to him, as far as he knows, and if he did? John's pretty sure he would see it written across his face.
The kid's about as subtle as a brick.]
Reasons you should make sure your gear is secured before throwing yourself out a window. Our vests don't have twenty compartments just to look cool.
[He's not really ragging on him. It's just an easy out to keep this conversation from getting awkward. John doesn't need a thank you, or for Finn to apologize. He does enough of that already. What this thing is, or why Finn has it on him, even during training, really isn't John's business.
That said, he is curious. Even after weeks of working together, they still don't know each other that well. It's almost funny. John's never really worked with anyone as evasive as he is.]
Friend of yours?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-15 11:33 pm (UTC)I was trying a different pocket.
[ So yeah, fair point. He thinks it wouldn't hurt to start leaving it at the apartment. Or at least at his desk, or in his jacket or something. He's lucky it's still in one piece right now.
And the question saves him the trouble of trying to ask if John got a look at it. He has no idea how he planned to navigate that one without accidentally sounding accusatory about it. So Finn mulls over how to answer, a little grateful not to have to broach it himself.
It would be easy to back out of answering. Say he has somewhere to be, never mention it again. To shut off the projector and do that, never think about this, never mention it again. Hope that John forgets, like it's not important. But he thinks about Slip's face, how few people have ever seen it, how many fewer have seen it and thought it was worth caring about (just Poe and Rey, here, only him back home).
He thinks about how readily John gave the holoprojector back. How related it is to a conversation that he honestly should have had with him sooner. Backing out doesn't sit right. ]
He was a member of my old fireteam. We, uh. [ He hesitates. Offers a twitchy shrug. Deliberately avoids addressing the friend issue for the moment. It'll be easier to explain once he's laid the full picture out. ] We called him Slip. Just a nickname. Kept things shorter on the radios.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 12:35 am (UTC)[John kicks his booted feet up on his desk, leaning back in his reclining chair stolen from some other department with a bigger budget. While his posture says, "I don't give a fuck," what he's really saying is "Relax."
Finn and Chyler are two peas in a pod. Serious. Always on. Probably because they both grew up too hard, too fast. In survival mode. John didn't have the same experience. Whether that makes him more or less qualified to lead them remains to be seen. He'd like to think it grants him a different perspective, that allows him to see strengths, and weaknesses, they might not know exist, but he could also be full of shit.
John has no doubt in his mind that both of them, despite their younger years, have suffered as much loss as he has, and ceased being children a long time ago, if they were ever really children at all.
He hopes they can be, someday. Whenever, and however, that would look like. Even if it means picking up stupid hobbies, or riding a skateboard to work while going grey. Whatever makes them happy.
John only really started to enjoy life in his late thirties. Blooming late is better than never.]
Slip. That's a good call-sign. I've had a few, in my day. Most of them embarrassing. Where I'm from, if it doesn't make you cringe? It isn't a solid call-sign.
You losing that doohickey? That's a 'butter fingers', right there. Butters for short, probably. Or maybe buttfinger. Because it's the air force. We're mature, like that.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 02:28 am (UTC)More importantly, Finn, who was sitting down prepared to mind his own business, inasmuch as a person can mind their own business while trying to explain it to another person, looks legitimately alarmed. Like there's a moment of pure, unabashed concern considering this prospect, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do with it.
He says, with the utmost and borderline-kind sincerity: ]
You do not have permission to start calling me buttfinger.
[ John is a demon from a hell army, he guesses. What else is new. But there's still that... familiarity in how he talked about it all. Sort of a warmth. Friendliness. That's what can't translate well, probably. That concept of a given closeness.
Finn can never contextualize that with his old life. Just doesn't mesh. He shakes his head. ]
It didn't work like that for us.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 05:26 am (UTC)Besides, if I was gonna to call you anything, it'd be fumbles. Much cuter.
[He grins, and sips his coffee. What's the point in having people under your command if you can't tease the hell out of them? Sure there's the whole leadership, teamwork, and support angle, but there's definitely a taking the piss angle, too. And that angle might be John's favourite.]
Yeah, didn't think so. From what I've heard you guys had it pretty rough. That wasn't my experience, but it's not unheard of where I'm from. Child soldiers. Innocent people forced into fighting a monster's war for them. I had a choice, but not everyone did.
Some crap seems to stay the same, no matter which galaxy you're in.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 10:09 am (UTC)Some of it, he figures, is obvious enough in the way he is, the way he works. It follows him whether he likes it or not. Some of it John could have heard from Poe. A fair heads up to a commanding officer. Maybe from Chyler, who he didn't swear to secrecy or anything.
Some of it isn't anyone else's to tell. In any case he'd rather not retread old ground. Time to hope for the best and assume the worst. Finn looks down, flexes his jaw. ]
Exactly how much have you heard?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-16 02:43 pm (UTC)You at least deserve to make your own choices.
[Another sip of his coffee. Trying to keep this casual for both of them.
John isn't the most emotionally revealing man, but if Finn thinks he catches John's eyes going hard for just a moment, a spark of something hit and dark in them as he looks across the room and not at Finn, he wouldn't be wrong.
A breath, and the moment passes. Gone, but not forgotten. If John had his way he'd blow the First Order out of existence.
Except it's never that simple, is it? Because the First Order is made up of people like Finn.]
For what it's worth, I don't care where you're from. Only what you choose to do, going forward.
You're one of my guys now. That means it's my job to back you up no matter what. Remember?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-17 11:57 pm (UTC)He tries to control who knows. Who finds out. He doesn't want people he's met to hear it and think worse of him. Or, god forbid, better of him. It feels like being less of a person either way.
John doesn't leave room for wondering. Better that way. Better straightforward. Doesn't leave time for dread to sink in and spread, for the resigned expectation that what was enough yesterday won't be enough anymore after this. ]
Right. [ Normally he's the one who ends up saying that kind of thing to someone. "We're a team, we're in this together." A lot of the people he knows here, the ones he cares about most, they're used to having to stand on their own or having to hold themselves apart somehow. Have their own hangups about asking for help. He doesn't know the feeling.
Everything good he's ever managed, he only managed because he wasn't alone.
It's weird being on the other end of the sentiment. His first instinct is to think it sounds nice and to move on without putting any faith to it, and his second instinct is to be ashamed that the first instinct keeps rearing its head, regardless of the fact that John's never done anything to him or to Chyler to merit the suspicion.
It means a lot to hear that, still. Either way. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. ]
I made my choice. I found better. Pretty sure I wouldn't be here if I hadn't.
[ Not that he thinks RR-1 is a part of 'better' or anything shut up. He's very serious and stoic.
He doesn't let "deserving" factor into anything if he can help it. That's a slippery slope for anyone who's promised any of their friends that they're trying to be kind to themselves. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-20 05:22 pm (UTC)My friend Tom... we shared a wall in the dormitories. [ She stops, suddenly not sure she wants to give away a memory that small and precious. What if John thinks it's stupid? ]
We would knock on the wall before bed, he started it, one day when I was mad at him. Three knocks, over and over, until I knocked back. And then we just... We kept doing it.
[ She looks back at the ceiling. ] When I go to bed I keep waiting for him to knock. [ Almost too quickly: ] It's stupid, I know it is.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-20 05:24 pm (UTC)(Except she remembers him hugging her, and she finds herself wishing for that again.) ]
On the roof.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-21 05:48 pm (UTC)[John grabs the comforter, folded back at the end of the bed, and drapes it up over her. He doesn't linger, it would be too much to linger, for both of them, so he stands up and turns the lights off instead. Rodney's bed creaks in the dark as he collapses on top of it, not uncomfortable with the way that it smells like him.
Glad Rodney is still here, and it isn't all he has left of him, because sometimes that's all you have, when you lose someone.
The crackle of their voice over a radio, the scent of their sweat, or three knocks on a wall.]
Goodnight, Chy.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-21 06:06 pm (UTC)[John's voice raises slightly with alarm. He's already pulling on his boots, throwing his jacket back on to head outside while he's still on the horn with her.]
I could use some fresh air. Be there in a minute.
[And he is. Didn't even wait for the elevator, just ran up the stairs all the way to the top. He stops just inside the door to catch his breath, and steel himself, before stepping out onto the rooftop.]
Kinda chilly up here.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-22 02:22 am (UTC)Then she reaches out and very softly knocks against the wall. Under her breath: ] Goodnight, Tom.
[ Chyler turns her face toward the pillow, closes her eyes, and sleeps. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-22 02:36 am (UTC)[ It reminds her of Tom, his little overlook. It's not as safe to dangle her feet over the edge up here, which doesn't mean she hasn't done it. There's something comforting in the electricity of nerves that comes with hanging yourself over open air. Like the body saying Yes, you're alive, it's okay.
There's probably something wrong with that. John probably wouldn't like it if he knew.
She hugs her jacket around herself without getting up. ]
Particularly when it's cold. No one's up here when it's cold. Toothless, sometimes, with Hiccup. But they're not bad company.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-22 09:32 pm (UTC)[Finn softens, John softens too. It's hard not to care about Finn. He's a good kid, and John's always had a weakness for though. Finn reminds him of Aiden in so many ways. In the skeptical tilt of his head, careful optimism, and fierce loyalty.
He leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on the desk, jaw in the palm of his hand.]
I've been meaning to ask you, how've you been liking this kind of work, and being on the team? Questions, concerns, or whatever. You don't have to have an opinion, but if you do I'd like to hear it.
I think we've been doing pretty well so far, given our limited resources and manpower, but I don't always see everything.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-22 10:10 pm (UTC)[John walks over to her, pulling off his own jacket and dropping it on her head.
He folds his arms over his chest, looking over the edge of the rooftop at the glittering skyline. It's a nice view. Would be nicer if he hadn't come up here half expecting to see Chylar standing on a ledge, mentally prepared to talk her down.
John knows what war does to a person. It makes you seek out quiet, dark places, to indulge your quiet, dark thoughts. Away from where anyone can stop you from thinking them.
He's stood on the ledge before.]
What kind of name is Toothless? That one of those weird as hell vikings? Be careful around them. They're nuts, and they probably have lice. Or fleas. Maybe both.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-24 03:17 am (UTC)If there's one thing to be said for living with Poe Dameron as long as he has here, it's that Finn is used to being caught off-guard by seemingly innocuous things. He thought he was totally used to it and prepared to expect it at any moment, once. And he was wrong. He hasn't even started trying to tell himself he's used to getting caught off-guard by John yet.
And the line of questioning certainly catches him off-guard. Not so much because it doesn't seem like the kind of thing John would do. He asked for opinions the first day they met. It's more because Finn's never been asked anything like this before.
First Order aside, even the Resistance never got around to actually... asking if he wanted to join up or stay with them. How he was liking it or whatever. There were a lot of assumptions made and a lot of things that just happened. ]
This is a good team. We work well together. Pretty sure you know that already. [ John absolutely already thinks this is a good team. Finn's calling that one like he sees it.
He doesn't shift to match John's change in posture. Just keeps contemplating him. ]
I like the work. Keeps things interesting. I didn't get raised for covert ops, so it's been good to get in the extra training and experience. I think Chyler's good. A lot of people would waste their time using kid gloves or go overboard trying to grind down what's good about her. Haven't seen you hit either of those walls yet.
[ Look. His standards for his own environment vary by day and circumstance. His standards for the treatment of Chyler Silva are high and on full blast at all times. He was on her team before he knew John Sheppard existed. Another one of those different-but-the-same people he's met here, who he catches impossible to define reflections and understandings with.
She can turn out better than him.
Finn doesn't take that lightly. ]
action
Date: 2018-04-25 08:53 pm (UTC)Even without it, Tony's mysterious new friend is not hard to find. There's only so many people drinking on top of the wall at any given time. He hopes.]
Owner of a lonely heart, table for two? [He calls it before he starts picking his way over. Who knows how drunk the guy is already and Tony is not actually looking to startle him right off the wall.
He does invite himself to settle right down next to him, though.]
Nice place. I mean, the decor leaves a little something to be desired.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-25 09:51 pm (UTC)[John's sitting on the ledge overlooking the wilds and badlands past the city border, legs dangling over the side, and trusty twelve pack at his side.
He's got a buzz on, but he's not wasted yet. That's six beers in. Sometimes eight, if he's eaten that day. Which he hasn't. Why perform basic human functions when you can dick around on the internet and feel sorry for yourself?
Given that the wall is long enough to circle the entire city, he doesn't have to slide over to make room for Tony. John does glance up at him when he sits, finally putting a face to the anonymous text. Talk about a blind not-date. They'd gone into this knowing absolutely nothing about each other.
Except that they're both probably alcoholics. And definitely lonely.
So he offers Tony a beer.]
I don't know who I was expecting, but it wasn't you.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-26 04:17 pm (UTC)[Tony agrees with a kind of deadpan solemnity, but he does accept the beer with a nod of thanks. He glances out over the landscape as he takes a drink, noting the definitive lack of nothing much to see.]
So is this a heights thing or are you just feeling dramatic?
[Honestly, it could go either way. And Tony would understand both options, really.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-26 05:00 pm (UTC)[It’s nowhere near the sense of comfort and peace he found in the view from the Atlantis control tower balcony, or even a beer on the pier, but it’s as close as he can get.
John misses Atlantis. His city. His people. His job. His responsibility. His purpose. Being too busy to feel alone. Too engaged in just surviving, and making it through the next day, and maybe the day after that, to put much thought into his future, or lack thereof.
All this time to himself, in his own head, is killing him. One of many reasons he’s screwed his way through what feels like half of Riverview. An endless stream of faces he doesn’t really want to remember, minus the few he’s seen more than once, who are somehow more friends than fuckbuddies. It isn’t about the sex. He’s so much more pathetic than that. John hates being left by himself, with himself.
Probably because he hates himself.
That’s where John’s head is while he drinks in silence beside Tony. It’s rude, really, considering he has company. He leans back on one arm to look at him, swirling what’s left of his beer in the can.]
Are we doing names, or is the anonymous thing sticking?
(no subject)
Date: 2018-04-27 01:35 am (UTC)He does flick a quick glance over though, smiling faintly. He'd wondered, in that moment or so of silence, if this was going to be one of those drink-as-fast-as-possible sessions, but the fact that he's out here at all means his knew friend probably doesn't want to be alone, despite the location.
And hey, if Tony's good at anything, it's distraction.]
As amusing as it would be to have you calling me Mr X or something, it's Tony. Mr Stark if you're nasty.