John Sheppard stalked the streets of his hometown, a half-full bottle of Bourbon in his left hand, cigarette in the other. It had been nearly nine years since he had given up smoking and another two on top of that since he had touched drink, but being here on Earth, alone, broke his long held resolve.

The past week had been taxing for him, forced on a mission at the same time as he had lost his father, and while he appreciated Ronan's obvious show of support, he was lacking the support of the one he loved. Loved and also lost.

He felt sick. And tired. Sick of losing people he cared about and tired of putting on the flyboy charade for those around him. Ever since the city had been attacked by the Asurans and he had lost the woman he loved, he had been on a downward spiral, seemingly hell-bent on imploding in on himself. He knew he had a drinking problem, yet here he was completely wasted and about to subscribe to a very male way of dealing with his problems.

Sex.

He was going to have sex with someone, anyone to make his problems disappear. To hell with what would happen afterwards. He needed comfort and release, and he needed it now.

Looking up, he spotted his target. A bawdy, flashing neon sign advertising the businesses' wares. He staggered towards it and turned into the doorway, stopping on the threshold to finish the bottle and cigarette he held, before throwing both out into the street and entering the establishment.

He was greeted past the cloakroom by two scantily clad women who took him to a table and brought him a drink. The brunette then started to cosy up to him, whispering in his ear, and he closed his eyes and imagined it was Her. After a little while, she moved to stand in front of him and began to dance.

"No."

She stopped dead and looked at him, shocked and then confused.

"Not you." He spoke gruffly and pointed behind her. "That one."

The brunette looked disappointed but turned away to fetch the blonde, and as John watched her walk away, curled hair bouncing on her shoulders, slender legs and waist, and he wanted to reach out to Her; call Her name. Even as she turned around and John recognised it wasn't Her his mind desperately wanted to call out. He felt a sudden surge of pain in his gut as he remembered how She was never coming back to him. Luckily the blonde came over to him before he could sink much deeper within himself and led him away to a private room.

Once the door was locked, John stood in front of the bed while the blonde came round in front of him, and John closed his eyes in expectation of her hands touching him, unclothing him, groping him.

But she didn't touch him.

Instead, she simply watched him until his eyes opened, glistening in the dim light.

"You miss her very much," the blonde spoke softly. "You loved her."

John dropped his chin to his chest in sad acknowledgement, then pulled her close and breathed in her ear.

"Make me forget."