1. At his mother’s funeral, although he does it in absolute silence and would vehemently deny it if anyone noticed. Dave cries all over their father’s suit and is given candy for it. John gets nothing but a brusque hand to the shoulder.
2. First time he flies solo. Eyes watering due to the change in air pressure, of course. Nothing to do with the glorious feeling that he’s just been set free, reborn.
3. Slicing an onion while making dinner with Nancy, first leave after they get married. She mocks him for days afterward, and he doesn’t care one bit.
4. After the siege, and the bomb run that doesn’t end with him blowing up, and Ford’s sudden plunge into enzyme-induced lunacy, John goes into his room, locks the door behind him, and braces himself against it just in case someone decides to have another emergency. He stares at the ceiling for a while and pretends his face isn’t wet, that the breath doesn’t catch in his throat, that his heart doesn’t feel like it’s been scooped out and thrown away.
5. He gets drunk in his hotel room after his father’s funeral and the whole mess with the replicators. But he doesn’t cry. Not really. Just sobs a couple of times into one of the hotel pillows (which is kind of hard and smells like plastic)—but whether for himself and the relationship he never had with his father, or for Eva, trapped in a false world, he can’t say.