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They'd talked countless people down from ledges before. He knew the right words to say. He knew how to get an arm around someone without them suspecting. How to coax a bottle of pills out of exhausted hands. How to wait and administer medical aid, hopefully, before time ran out.
He'd been in this exact scenario so many times before.
Johnny just never expected the person who usually worked with him to be the one he had to talk down.
It was different. Quieter. Calmer.
Inside, he was raging and screaming and panicking, sure… but outside. He was just sitting with Roy, having a conversation, hoping it didn't end with one of them not walking away.
They were leaning back on the heels of their hands, staring at the stars, as if Johnny hadn't found Roy here alone. On the roof. Crying. Stinking of liquor, once Johnny got close enough to smell it.
"It wasn't like that," Roy said once again.
"So you say." Johnny looked to the side at him. Face swollen and red, salty tracks of dried-up tears. His eyelashes still shining wet in the moonlight as Roy stared up at the sky. "Then can we get down from here?"
Roy stiffened at that question. Like he wasn't quite ready to give up on the escape plan he kept saying wasn't that.
"Okay, no is an answer," Johnny accepted. "So if it wasn't like that, why are we up here at all?"
"Didn't ask you up here. Why are you here?" Roy leaned back more until he was only propped up by his elbows, head falling back loosely.
"Your phone was off the hook. You never leave your phone off the hook."
"Coulda just been talking on it."
"But you weren't. So… I came over." Johnny brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. The night air moved and raised goosebumps on his arms.
"In the nick of time, right?" Roy laughed, dryly. Bitterly.
Johnny lay his head on his knees, angled to keep his face to Roy.
"Nick of time for what? Roy…"
Roy heaved a long and tired sigh. "I dunno."
That was more scary than if he'd just come out and said it.
He knew. Johnny knew he did. He didn't want to say it, and maybe Johnny would have to drag it out of him one stubborn inch at a time, but there was an answer in there, and they both knew what it was.
"How much did you actually drink before climbing up here?"
"Not enough."
"You don't drink."
"Don't I?" Roy turned his bleary, wet eyes to Johnny and looked right at him. Because obviously he was drunk right now, he could drink.
"No, you don't. Not normally." Johnny shook his head against his legs, refusing to let Roy off the hook. Not now. Not when it came this close. "So what are you trying to get away from?"
Roy scrubbed one hand over his face, sloppily, rough enough to drag at the skin. His elbow slipped slightly on the roof, one tile coming loose. Johnny's body jumped a little at the adrenaline spike. But Roy just shifted and settled again.
Johnny forced his fingers to loosen their grip on his own knees. They weren't even close to the edge anymore. A few feet back. Roy wasn't going to lean one way and disappear by accident.
But they were on a roof. And Roy was drunk. And Roy was strong.
"I'm not—I didn't come up here to jump."
"Alright."
Roy scoffed. "You don't believe me."
Johnny watched him quietly a moment more, debating what to say. He opted for honesty.
"No, I don't."
Roy stared at him. Johnny wondered if honesty had been the wrong choice. If he'd just pushed Roy far enough away that he'd shut down or just go do what he came to do in the first place, Johnny be damned.
Instead, his face broke for a moment. And he looked back up at the sky as his eyes welled up with tears he didn't want to fall.
"You know what today is?"
It was August 11. Though Johnny was pretty sure that wasn't the answer Roy was looking for.
"No."
"Today is the day I killed a whole family and my commander. Six years ago."
Johnny looked away. What do you say to that? He held himself for another minute longer and then leaned back to lay on the roof tiles with Roy. To be closer.
"How?"
Roy's breath hitched, probably hadn't expected that Johnny would want to hear about it. Johnny didn't want to hear about it. Absolutely didn't want to know about the horrors that Roy had experienced that brought him to a time and place when he was willing to stop himself to make the memories stop.
But he knew Roy needed him to know more than he needed not to.
"We were in this village. Looking for VC, ya know. Always had helpers, spies, in the villages because the fucking villages were starving and scared. They didn't want us there… we didn't wanna be there… but there we were."
That summed up the entire war, really, to Johnny. Nobody wanted it except the ones in power. And they weren't the ones who suffered for it either. He listened as Roy spoke, voice thick from the booze and distant like he traveled back in time to bring the words out.
"It was night, and we were pretty sure we were being watched. Sarge had us take cover in a hut. With a family. An old couple, their daughter… or daughter-in-law, I don't know. Never did get to find out. A little boy." Roy closed his eyes, one tear slipping through his lashes. "And a baby."
Johnny's gut seemed to squirm uncomfortably. Roy's breathing was a bit more shallow, uneven as the memories grabbed hold of him. Johnny stayed where he was. Close enough that Roy wouldn't have to raise his voice. Close enough to touch if needed.
"They didn't know what was happening. I didn't have the vocabulary to explain it. And Sarge kept telling them to shut the damn baby up."
Roy stopped. His voice got lower, softer. "Then he told me to shut the damn baby up."
"You?"
"I was the medic with the morphine. I had more than enough to do the job."
"To put that baby to sleep?"
"To make it stop."
Johnny's mouth was dry. "He ordered you to kill a baby."
"He ordered me to keep everyone else alive," Roy tried to correct him, like it made it any more acceptable.
"Roy, he—"
"I said no."
Johnny breathed. His own eyes welling up with relief so strong it felt like pain.
"I said I couldn't. He told me that baby was going to get every person in that hut killed. And if I couldn't do it, then I could leave and risk being seen out in the open instead." Roy lifted his hands in front of his face, seeing something Johnny couldn't. "So I did."
"You left?"
"I stormed out. I didn't even carry a gun. Not required to as a medic. I signed up to help, not… that."
"So how do you think you—"
"The hut exploded behind me. They were found. If I had done what I was told…"
"Roy, no."
"Maybe I wouldn't be the only one alive."
"You don't know that. If it happened that fast, they probably already had the location. That's probably why you got away. They stopped looking."
"You don't know that either."
Roy was right. Neither of them knew for sure and never would. But Johnny knew it was eating Roy from the inside out. How many other years had he tried to forget everything? How many times had Johnny missed it? He couldn't recall if he'd ever seen Roy come to work with a hangover, with an air of darkness and self-hatred strong enough to kill.
"So you wanted to forget," Johnny said.
"And instead, you got me remembering every fucking detail."
"And you weren't sitting calmly like this when I first got here. You were standing at the corner, one step, one fucking step Roy. You were going to leave me with that kind of guilt, the same kind that's killing you right now."
Johnny was so damn angry and scared. He could feel himself shaking as he stared at the stupid wobbly streaky stars.
"Yeah."
Johnny's head whipped to look at Roy so fast it hurt. The confession was so raw, so small. It croaked as Roy said it. But he'd said it.
"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."
The tears were flowing fresh and free again. Another dam broken down and Roy broken with it.
Johnny reached out and wrapped him up as he cried. The ledge seemed just a little further away now.