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@maverick You've reached John Sheppard, please leave a message. voice | video | text

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Well I'm pretty good at finding things.

You know, if we are dead, I'd say there are worse people to be dead around.

[volitaunt]

[ That, Poe doesn't answer right away. It takes him a second to find a safe reply. ]

Worse than Kylo Ren? Not sure about that one, Lieutenant Colonel.

[ HAS HE EVER MENTIONED KYLE RON oh well Poe doesn't remember, doesn't care. ]

Did I tell you I'm from the past now?

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I don't know what a kylo ren is, but it sounds stupid. Somewhere up there with the shake-weight and juicing.

Where we're from doesn't matter. Here, I'm not a Lieutenant Colonel. I'm just a fly boy like you.

So don't call me that, geez. Not unless you're going to make it sound cool and sexy. Which you're welcome to try.

[volitaunt]

He’s definitely stupid. That whole hospital thing, that was him, he had a tantrum. Missed his nap.

[ Low-voiced, husky: ] Lieutenant Colonel.

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Oh, that douchebag? You can tell ol’ Kyle if he messes with my buddy Poe again, he’ll be taking a dirt nap.

[Seriously, Poe? That isn’t what he expected or deserved. Cue awkward throat clearing.]

Well, anything sounds good when you say it.

Except Kylo Ren.

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[ In that same bedroom voice: ] You can’t polish a bantha turd.

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You ruined it. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

[He’s cracking up over the line.

Then, a moment of seriousness.]

Don’t worry so much. You’ve got friends here. At the end of the day, that’s all anyone really needs.

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[ Silence on Poe's side of things, enough that a little background noise from the bar he's in creeps over the comm. ]

One of my kids is here. One of the Resistance pilots I helped train.

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Is that good or bad?

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I killed her.

[ He knocks back another shot of something, he doesn’t remember or care what, and corrects himself with a cough: ] I got her killed.

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Oh.

[Poe's state is starting to make a lot more sense. There's a gentle pause as John thinks about what to say. Heart to hearts aren't exactly his forte.]

People die in war, Poe. Lots of them. All you can do is try to save as many as you can.

I've lost a lot of good men and women, and every one of them knew what it was they were signing up for. That's what makes them brave.

Losing people, that's something you sign up for, too, when you're an officer. And it's the hardest part of the job.

[volitaunt]

That’s what she told me, too. I know it’s the job. I’ve lost...

[ That list of names, that reel of faces. ]

I got her killed, John, her and our bombing fleet. All hands and six escorts. And I don’t even have the fucking— [ His voice starts to rise with those last words, and he stops, cutting himself off, calming himself down. His voice is slick with alcohol and guilt and grief. ] I don’t even remember it. I can’t even give them that.

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Maybe that’s why you’re here. So you don’t make the same call when you go back. Or maybe not. I don't think we really know enough about how this place works to say.

[John’s experienced the effects of time travel first-hand. This isn’t the first time he’s blipped out of a timeline.]

You live, and you learn. That’s the punishment, and privilege, of surviving failure on the battlefield.

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[ Now the piece that’s breaking his heart in increments. His voice drops. He feels sick. ] I have to leave her here.

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She did her part. Now she can relax. Do something else with her life.

[Something like a low chuckle. He can't help himself.]

Us? We’ve just got to keep going until the wheels fall off.

No rest for the wicked.

[volitaunt]

Her sister is still alive. Rose is back there, and I can’t... [ He’s listening. He is, but there’s a desperate urgency in his voice that says John doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand. ] I can’t bring Paige home. They came to us with nothing. All they’ve got is each other and the Resistance.

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No, you can’t.

But you can tell Rose her sister is alive, living a different, better life. And maybe she even has the chance to be happy.

That’s more comfort, and closure, than most people get. It's something to hold onto.

[volitaunt]

[ For a few seconds, Poe is silent, John’s words finally catching up, working their way through. For a few seconds after that, he’s just breathing, with the long inhale and short, gasped exhalation of someone who’s far too drunk for anyone’s good. ] God.

God, I can’t go back to our room like this.

[ He can’t be this person. He doesn’t want Rey to see it. He doesn’t want Finn to be disappointed by it. ] Fuck.

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So come over to my place.

Rodney’s working late. Probably all night, knowing him- and I’m not going to bed anytime soon.

Hell, I’ll come pick you up. We can walk back over.

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[ Now, with bonus shame, each word carefully articulated: ] Might need the help.

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Yeah, you might. And that’s fine.

What's the address?

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[ Poe tells him. It’s a dive bar, or as close to a dive as one can find in Riverview. Not Poe’s usual place. At Poe’s usual place, he never would have been allowed to drink himself this deep. They know him. They know his habits. And they don’t encourage mild drinkers into excess. ]

Table in the back.

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I know the place. ETA in 10.

[John, true to his word, is there in ten. He drank himself into the same shameful state Poe's in, in the exact same dive, his first or second night in Riverview. It's the kind of bar that doesn't ask any questions. Doesn't care who you are, or where you're from. What you're drinking away. So long as you pay your tab, anyway.

Other than the ball, this is the first time Poe will see John out of uniform. He shows up in a t-shirt and jeans beneath a faded leather aviator.

Finding Poe isn't difficult. There's no one sitting near him. That's when you know someone's in a bad way.]

Ready to march?

[volitaunt]

[ Poe has to get to his feet in steps. Ease the chair back, watch the world sway. Get his feet under him, look down to make sure they're where they need to be, pause again while his balance sloshes. Lever himself upright and try not to puke.

There's mercy in inertia, when you're as drunk as Poe is. Sit still, stay put, and you can pour drink over drink without feeling the consequences until you let the world back in. If you're lucky, you won't let it in much longer than it takes to black out.

Poe grips the edge of the table hard, staring at a single point on it until he can say with absolute certainty that the bar isn't doing pirouettes around him. ]

Yeah.

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C'mon, big guy. Easy does it.

[John smiles to nobody in particular, because really, it's nobody's damn business, and pulls one of Poe's arms over his shoulders.

He's done this before. The walk of shame, and the carry. You don't have a career in the USAF if you don't drink. Getting shitfaced is part of the training regimen. You don't make it from cadet to airman without puking on your seargeant's boots at least once.]

I'm actually kinda impressed. You might be drunker than I was when I crawled out of this joint.