A/N: I wanted to do something mostly Jack centric and see him in a different light, not with how I'd usually write him, but in a sadder light. Hope you enjoy. Will contain loads of cursing, triggering topics.

This was originally going to be a multi-chaptered fic, but I'm debating on it. For now, I'll mark it as "Complete", but whether or not I should continue this will depend on the critiques/reviews I get.

. . .

Jack Spicer's Guide to Bad Decisions for Temporary Happiness

He's lounging on a recliner without a care for the world and time as it passes by aimlessly. One hand moves hair stuck to his head via sweat away and another holding a half empty bottle of vodka in his hand. One couldn't even tell if his eyes were bloodshot. With a yawn, he took another swig and turned his eyes to his visitor sitting in an ordinary wooden chair.

"You ever felt like shit?" He asks. "Ever felt like you're just here to be fucked over like you're some filthy dog?"

Chase looks at him, and shakes his head.

"No. I can't say I have."

Jack laughs and finishes the bottle in one sitting, and lets it drop to the floor. It cracks, but Jack doesn't mind. He closes his eyes.

"That's alright. Should have known."

"You cannot keep doing this to yourself, Jack."

They are on a first-name basis, and Jack cannot understand why. Everything this man is doing, and why he is here, is confusing. His judgemental gaze, aura, demeanor, all gone for something that looks like worry, but he cannot be sure with this man, so Jack laughs again.

"Who says I can't? See this—" Jack opened his eyes and got up from the recliner, barely avoiding the glass. He opened a cabinet, and in his hand held another bottle. "—This helps. This shit helps. With this, I can't feel a damned thing."

"It's only temporary."

"Eh, so what?" Jack walked back to the recliner and lounged again. "If it means getting my mind off of this shitty reality, sign me up. Too bad there isn't a Wu for this one."

Chase shook his head, disbelieving. How could this have happened? What could have been his breaking point?

"Why are you like this?"

"I can barely do anything with this body. If I go out in the sun, I'll burn. My bones are so weak, I'm surprised I don't have osteoporosis. Can't fight. List goes on."

"You have an amazing intelligence," Chase counters. "You have not let your body stop you from doing anything—even the plans that are most likely to fail. You are capable of learning."

"I guess… Maybe? No. You're just saying that. I don't believe you. Get out."

Jack opened the bottle and began to drink rapidly. He didn't care. Woudn't care. Shouldn't care. Never would care.

He blacked out just a minute later.

. . .

Now he awakes in his bed with a thunderous headache and feeling like he just wants to die. Will someone shut that annoying ringing off from his ears? He's groggy and wants to punch someone just to let his anger out of someone. He sits up and looks to his right, and there still is Chase, who seemed to watch over him through the time he was unconscious.

Jack looks him over. He looks tired, and he acknowledges the tired gaze and the look of worry on someone who should hate him (did he ever stop?) but no longer does. His eyes scan his bedside table and sees a glass of water, and a pill, which is most likely aspirin.

"…Thank you," he says weakly, taking the glass and pill.

He hates taking pills. It takes about a minute for him to down the aspirin. There is always the fear of choking on the pill or it going down the wrong way, leading to death.

"…I don't like taking pills. I might choke and die," he says to Chase.

Chase nodded. "It is not uncommon for one to be afraid of taking a pill. I won't hold that against you."

When Jack is sober, he reveals more things. Things that Chase can use to help him. He is much more passive, but more shy and reluctant to open up right away—but when he does, Chase is satisfied. He knows one thing.

He can help him.

He can help Jack stop this before it's too late. To go back to how he once was. That boy with strong ambition that never gave up until the end where he knew he had to. Though most of his plans did end in failure, it didn't stop him. There were times where he did succeed, and everyone, not only himself, knows this.

"The drinking helps…" Jack says again.

"I know… I know… but in the end, all it will do is damage you. You will die if you keep doing this."

Chase watches as Jack closes his eyes and shakes his head in distraught.

"I don't wanna… I don't wanna… I don't wanna…"

"I know you don't. I know it will be difficult."

"It's too late for me to stop…"

"No, it is not. It is never too late."

Jack looks at him for a second, and then averts his eyes.

"Is it really?"

And Chase, for a moment, finds himself smiling. "Yes. Because I will help you."

"Are you sure you want to?"

"Yes…. I am sure."

. . .

It was reaching four weeks now. Even the Xiaolin were curious to Jack's whereabouts in the conflict and asked Chase, having come to his citadel. When he said he didn't know, they left. Chase, out of his own curiousity, visited Jack. He checked the upper levels first. Often, Jack began to stay in other places rather than his basement. He lived alone, and decided to make the best of it.

When Chase did not see Jack in the living room, nor any other place, it is then he decided to check out his lab. If it were any other person, he would have gasped out of shock. Still his eyes widened as he saw the sight. Jack lay on the table where he would usually forge his robots, knocked out. The slow rise and fall of his stomach indicated life. Chase's eyes traveled to the floor, where broken glass lay. It was a twisted collage of broken bottles of alcohol.

Chase kicked the shards out of the way and shook Jack.

"Spicer! Damn it! Wake up!"

Chase sighed with relief as Jack slowly opened his eyes. He was then pushed away as Jack got off of the table quickly.

"W-What the fuck are you doing here?! What do you want! I-I stayed away, I didn't do anythin', I swear!"

"I'm not here to harm you! I'm here to see what this is all about!"

"It's none of your fuckin' business! Leave me alone!"

Chase went closer to Jack. He kneeled down gently, and extended his hand.

"…It's okay."

Jack whimpered, as if he were reluctant to believe Chase. After all, the warlord didn't exactly treat him right. He would constantly berate Jack and come close to harming him. When Chase saw that Jack didn't make a move to grab his hand, he closed his eyes.

"I will help you."

Jack then reached for his hand slowly, and let Chase help him up.

. . .

He is asleep again, and Chase has tucked him in his bed.

He only popped up to his own citadel to check on his warriors to see they are tended to well and to check that no one has reared their ugly heads there. Otherwise, he has been staying with Jack this entire time, seeing to it that he does not drink himself to death. He doesn't know exactly when Jack started or what the circumstance that led to Jack starting was, but all he did know is that it had to stop, before it was too late.

He saw Jack move his eyes, as if he were having a bad dream. And then he saw tears come out of his eyes.