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A Different Time [Drew and Jack]

Years of not reacting to things is all that saved Drew's sketchbook when his phone went off on the table. An immediate reminder why no one lets them make noise past vibration anymore. After a few seconds for his heartbeat to go back to a normal rhythm he grabbed his phone off the table. A quick google search told him where to go and finished out the note to Eli who remained blissful unaware of the world on the couch.

A short drive, and a full five minutes sitting at the steering wheel occurred as he built up the nerves to walk in. He took a small breath, grabbed his phone and walked in. He spotted Jack sitting and moved to take a seat across from him at the booth in the back.

"Hey Jack."

"Hey Drew." With the helmet off, and without the chaos of battle to to divert attention, the resemblance between the Jameson brothers was painfully obvious. Jack had more muscle on him than Jesse, just as lanky but filled out slightly more. His features were a bit softer, and slightly rounder, but the hair and eyes and mouth were identical.

Jack offered Drew an awkward smile before taking a sip from the glass of whiskey in front of him.

"So uh...this is weird."

"Weird for me too." He gave the smallest smile.

"Though for different reasons I guess.." His voice trailed off and he looked at the table between them.

"Sorry. I.." he paused again and tried to battle through his nerves. "This is just hard."

"Yeah, I get it. Trust me."

Jack sighed, and looked away. He looked around the room, noting little details. A group of what were probably college students laughing, talking about...whatever college kids talked about. Two men in v-necks bickering over the jukebox. Outside through the front windows, the hazy view of clouds of cigarette smoke commingling in the cool evening air.

So many people with so many problems and complicated lives. And no idea how easy they have it, how simple things are for them compared to the people at this booth.

Odds are good none of you are responsible for many lives beyond your own. Maybe some kids, maybe aging relatives you take care.

Even if one of you was an actual, honest to god serial murder psychopath, you'd only be capable of killing maybe 50 people max. And that's over the course of your entire career, if you're smart and you don't get sloppy, and you get real lucky. That's the absolute worst you are directly capable of.

"It always comes down to scale," Jack muttered, his eyes distant. Without turning back to the table, he took another, longer drink.

The burn of the whiskey brought him back reality. He coughed, and glanced back at Drew.

"I wish I could say it gets easier."

Drew shook his head. "Easier doesn't mean it's better.. at least not always."

He looked down at his drink. He was quiet for a moment before he started talking again.

"Sorry I'm not good at.."

He paused for a few more seconds. "People. I usually try to avoid them to be honest."

Drew laughed nervously. "I'm very out of my depth."

"Same. And as time as gone by, I get the people thing more and more."

Jack shrugged.

"We're in a fucked up mess of a situation. Hell, I've been at this for a while, and I'm still always, fucking always out of my depth."


He searched for the right words.

"I'm not sure what I should be doing. I'm not even sure if I'm on the right side of this."

Drew sighed heavily. "I'm not sure of anything."

" why ask me out here then Drew?"

I really hope you don't expect me to have the answers.

"You've already heard my side. And I'm not sure what else I can tell you. I mean...I can listen, but I don't have it all figured out. No matter how much as the others seem convinced I think I do. I know just one way thinks went, for Connie, for you, for all of us."

"Sorry, I don't know why I asked."

He shrank in his seat a little.

"I know we've heard your side and I definitely know you're not going to just solve this for me."

He raised his head just enough to make eye contact. "Sorry. I guess I'm just wasting your time."

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