This is an AU, that means Alternate Universe to those who may not know. I understand that some of these things aren't exactly quoted from the movie, but it will be close. The characters will respond differently because of the story change, so it is just my idea of how they would act.
Jack awoke with a start and sat up. Drool covered his arm where he'd been laying on it. His stubble beard itched and his eyes burned. I really need to lay off the booze. As he stretched, he looked up and saw Milo's disapproving stare.
"Shit. Fell asleep. Again." He thought wearily. He gave his friend a sheepish shrug and his best smile. His smile could send girls into a horny tornado of embarrassment and blushing, but unfortunately Milo wasn't a girl, or gay. He shook his head with disappointment at Jack and slumped into a chair near the chalkboard. The broom cupboard that the museum had given him as an office was set up to look like the room he would be proposing his expedition to the board. The reason why Jack was there was to help his best friend to practice it and critique him. He for a moment he felt guilty. But only just a moment.
"How am I supposed to get the Museum Board to listen to my proposal if I can't even get my best friend to listen?!" Milo moaned. His messy brown hair was unkempt, much like his clothes. They looked slept in. His eyes however, didn't look like he slept at all. Even though he looked tired, he was clearly excited, or maybe scared. Jack did his best to recall what Milo had been talking about before he clocked out.
"I was listening!" Jack said sarcastically defensive. Milo pushed his round glasses to the tip of his nose and gave him a flat stare. "You were saying something about a shield, and a picture book and, other shit." Milo's head made a loud thump as it hit the table. Jack smiled.
"The shield is the key to finding the book, the Shepherd's Journal," Milo articulated the title, "and the book is the key to Atlantis. What we need to do is go to Iceland and retrieve the journal."
"Well you say a lot of boring stuff. I can't remember every damn thing." Jack retorted. Suddenly, the phone rang in the back of the room. Milo took off, stumbling over boxes and papers. The blackboard stood in between him and the phone. He flipped it over and slid over it.
"Cartography and Linguistics, Milo Thatch speaking!" He answered full of excitement. His excitement faded quickly. He mumbled a few things into the phone, climbed over to the boiler in the far corner, twisted a few knobs, smacked it with a wrench, and hopped back to the phone. He mumbled some more and hung up.
"I'm guessing that was the board calling to tell you about how excited they are for your presentation this afternoon?" Jack joked. Milo scoffed. People in the building often called him, telling him to fix the boiler so the heating would work. One of Milo's biggest faults was that he would get his hopes up way too high, just to have them crash down on him more times than not.
"That was the Gertrude upstairs; said the boiler was acting up again." Jack nodded to himself. That was Milo's primary job. Fixing the machine when it started to get cold outside. He would never admit it, but it was the truth.
Looking at the clock, Milo's glumness left in a flash, replaced by an excited smile.
"It's about that time. I'm finally getting out of the dungeon. Are you just gonna sit there or are you going to help?" Milo exclaimed. He rushed to gather his papers and maps. Jack took a moment to say a silent prayer for him. He knew that Milo was only going to get embarrassed and humiliated. He looked up to see Milo gazing at his grandfather's helmet. Even from across the room, Jack could see his face beaming with pride, and a little sadness. It had always been too big to fit on him. Jack barked a laugh when it slid down over his face yet again.
"Just like old times." Jack mumbled to himself as he got up and started grabbing papers and loading them into his friend's arms. A package made a thump as it fell down into Milo's tiki themed mailbox. Milo dumped the papers back into Jack's unexpected arms, causing him to drop most of them. He cursed and began to pick them up. Milo had to hold the helmet up because it was covering his eyes.
"Dear Mr. Thatch," Milo read aloud, "your meeting has been moved from four-thirty pm to three-thirty pm." They made eye contact, both of them with confused expressions. Another thump.
"Dear Mr. Thatch, due to your absence the board has voted to reject your proposal. Have a good weekend. Mr. Harcourt's office." Jack was stunned for a moment. What assholes. He caught a glance of Milo's furious face and he knew there was going to be trouble.
"They can't do this to me!" He shouted. Jack dropped the papers on the table and stood in front of the staircase door.
"Milo, listen. Don't do anything stupid. I don't want to have to bail you out of prison." Milo didn't seem to hear him. He was muttering angrily and rushing around to collect all of his research.
"I'll show them. I'll make them hear me!" Jack groaned. He was about to do something stupid, and nobody was going to talk him out of it. I could knock him out. Jack debated the thought for a minute before rejecting it. Milo would just do it later. There was no stopping him.
Milo brushed past him quickly and ran up the stairs. Jack tried to keep up, but his leg made it difficult. Before his accident, Jack had been a stud athlete. Now, it was difficult to walk up stairs, let alone run up them. Fucking leg! He hobbled as quickly as he could after his friend.
By the time he got up the four flights of stairs, he was sweating heavily and breathing hard. It was very taxing for him to move that fast. The doctor told him that a cane would make it easier, but he refused stubbornly. He wasn't some old fuck who had back problems! He could do whatever he wanted without a cane. Plus it was only from the knee down. How hard could it be? Turned out it was very hard, but he would never let anyone see it. He was too proud.
He could hear Milo shouting through the tall marble halls, and the scuttering of feet. Doors slammed loudly. Wimpy old fuckers. They didn't even have the balls to talk to Milo. Milo! All five foot eight, a hundred and fifty pounds of him! It was almost funny, thinking about those fat old men running around with their rich suits and top hats. Any other time, Jack would've laughed. But right now he needed to stop Milo from committing career suicide.
He followed the trail of discarded papers until he got outside. Stumbling down the front steps, Jack tried to see where Milo had run off to. The steps were still slick and wet from the rain earlier that day, causing Jack's bad leg to slip. He didn't even have time to curse before the back of his head cracked against the hard marble. He could taste blood in his mouth. His eyes refused to stay focused. Slowly he drifted off into darkness.