Welcome to My Life.

He was anticipating the sharp sting of the point as it penetrated his skin, the needle was carefully poised over his vein as he calmed himself to prevent the shaking in his hands. He liked to wait, just for a second or two, before he slid the needle in and pushed the plunger down easily with him thumb. The anticipation made him grow excited, reminding himself that there was something worth living for, ecstasy wasn't hard to sell to himself, especially when he was merely seconds away from the freedom of his conscience.

He savoured the sharp sting he felt as he pushed the instrument further into his arm, reminding himself of the philosopher Mills words, we value pain as it makes us more appreciative of the pleasure. Screw Bentham, he thought, he liked Mills theory better, its not quantity it's the quality. And heroin, he had realised, was the strongest and most fulfilling kind of pleasure he would ever receive. To be a Utilitarian, he thought, laughing at the contradiction he presented.

The concept was based on pleasure, quantity or quality, he was sure he himself was a very good demonstration of how you were not supposed to behave. Then again, he thought, perhaps Bentham knew what he was talking about after all. He wasn't concerned with minorities of injustice. Okay so he wasn't exactly giving lots of people pleasure, only himself, but he was sure he could overlook that detail.

Jack Bauer the Utilitarian, he thought mockingly, who would have thought? All of his adult life he had worked for Bentham's Principle of Utility, greatest happiness for the greatest number. People were sacrificed to save the greater number of people, Bentham would have approved. But he never felt he had achieved the principle, the crux of his theory. Until now, when he was, technically going against both theories.

Screw it, he thought, what did Kant say about pleasure? His wondering thoughts were ended as he realised he was still holding the needles prick under his skin, ready to give himself all the pleasure he needed. Who cares about Bentham or Mill, he thought, as long as he was happy and wasn't hurting anybody else, what did it matter? He'd never been selfish before and something told himself he deserved to be indulgent and greedy, he didn't realise that it was only the high and the drugs which made him feel this way, but what did it matter?

He closed his eyes and reopened them as he tried to focus, it wasn't often his thoughts were so jumbled during the process, normally the drug would talk him through it, but today it was his mind. He didn't like it when his mind spoke to him, sometimes the guilt slipped through the hidden door and ruined his high. The drugs didn't make him less depressed, he had to be in a good frame of mind when he took them, he had to want them. It wasn't usually a problem, he always wanted them.

He was about to push the plunger down, the third time that very day, when he herd the sound of shoes on the concrete outside. He panicked quickly and pulled the needle out, carefully laying it down on its side before throwing the band from his arm. He didn't want a visitor, he should have known it would be too easy. He had sent his resignation to CTU that very morning, three days after he had realised how he could be free of the world, free of himself.

He cursed himself, he should have known they would be suspicious, maybe he should have called in and spoke to Erin, Tony's replacement, and spun some lie about wanting a change. They wouldn't have sent anybody over to see him then, he thought, thank God he hadn't shot up. Whoever they sent would leave and back him up after hearing his lies, lies he wouldn't be able to tell while high. Also, he thought worriedly, they high would have been ruined, and that would have been bad, he thought. He cast another glance at the syringe as he darted over to the window, wondering if he really did have a visitor or if it was paranoia.

A harsh knock at the door told him it was reality, time to live in the real world for a while, he realised angrily. He moved the grubby netting back and peered through the dusty window, it was raining, he couldn't make out the figure at the door. When had it last rained in LA, he wondered? He didn't like the rain. He watched it patter over the window for a moment almost mesmerised, thinking back to his childhood, listening to Father Andy stood at the front of the church, boring Jack and all of the other children who had been dragged to church to sleep.

He had told them that when it rained God was washing away sin, and when the sun came out afterwards, He was showing us his forgiveness, granting us salvation for his sins. He suddenly remembered why he disliked the rains so much, he didn't deserve to be forgiven for his sins. He pushed the netting back as he realised the person was still stood at the door. He reluctantly moved to answer it knowing it would be would easier to get CTU off of his back as soon as possible. He didn't like it though, he was annoyed. He closed the room door as he moved down the hallway. The drugs were out of sight to the stranger but the image of them was fixed in his mind.

There was no peep hole on his door so he swung it open, shocking his visitor as it slammed against the wall before he held it still, a frown on his face, he wanted them to know he was mad about being bothered. He had sent them his resignation, why should they need to see him? The figure in the doorway jumped slightly startled, certainly not expecting him to answer.

He glared at the figure hidden underneath an umbrella, not able to make out the face. He thought about inviting them in from the cold then decided against it, he wanted to be as rude as possible so they wouldn't come back.

"Jack its freezing out here, do you treat all of your guests this way?"

Jack almost jumped when he herd the voice before moving away to let his guest in, instantly feeling guilty for how rude he had been, but angry too. Angry at CTU for sending her to see him, did they think he would come back if they sent a friend around? Well I'm not, he thought stubbornly, I'm not going back for anything. I have something much better waiting here for me…

She closed the door behind herself after leaving the soaked umbrella on the door mat outside, no point in getting his place wet. She looked up at him expectantly, not entirely sure why she had come to see him. The look on his face told he she thought she was here for a reason.

Michelle opened her mouth speak but Jack spoke over her, his voice harsh and angry.

"You can tell Erin not to bother sending anybody over, I'm through with CTU."

Michelle looked into his eyes, saw the glare he had, was it meant for her? She suggested they sit down and she followed him into the kitchen, she couldn't see the living room, she would tell on him and then everything would be ruined.

"Jack I didn't come here as Erin's messenger. I came to see you."

He was fiddling with his hands, looking around the room, clearly he couldn't focus on what she was saying; he seemed preoccupied.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No… no, sorry," he said, realising he hadn't been paying attention. Focus Bauer, he told himself. Was it him or the drug telling him to focus, as both knew what would happen if he didn't?

Michelle looked at him curiously, why was wrong with him? A dark thought crossed her mind but she pushed it away, no way, she thought, Jack was over the drugs.

"So, you left CTU?"

"Yes." It was a growl, he was ready to defend himself. This wasn't like him, she thought as she watched him shift on the pine chair at the breakfast table.

"So did I," she sighed.

His eyebrows curved in shock and intrigue, "you did?"

"Yes. They put me on emotional leave anyway, I resigned last week."

"Well that makes two of us then," he smirked. Part of him felt a little dejected that CTU hadn't contacted him. He had been angry before but… He felt rejected by them all of a sudden. Why hadn't they called to clarify his resignation, were they that eager to get rid of him?

"Jack I didn't come over here to wallow in my sorrows," she said slightly angry at his remark, he hadn't even asked how she was holding up, or about Tony either.

"Well what do you want Michelle?" He asked, sighing in annoyance. Didn't she realise he had more important things to be doing?

"I came to speak to you about Tony."

His face dropped, for a second he looked upset, helpless. But it was gone in a flash and the bored expression was back.

"What about him?"

"I want your help Jack…" She said, almost starting to cry, and mad at herself for doing so.

"Michelle how can I possible help. I did everything I could for him."

She started to interrupt but he spoke over her, she had clearly hit a nerve.

"You were at the trial, you saw me on the witness stand, getting ripped apart by that lawyer who couldn't have been any older than Kim. I told you personally that my presence would hurt his case, but you made me go Michelle. You saw the state of me, I wasn't even clean but you wanted me there. I used to feel guilty for Tony's sentence, but I don't. I did everything I could, and if my testimony hurt him, well… the only person to blame for that is you."

He stared at her as he spoke, he wanted to hurt her, she was sure of it. When the tear slid down her cheek he scoffed and looked away as though he was irritated with her show of emotion. Why did he want to hurt her? She'd never herd him be so selfish before.

"I need him Jack," she whispered, "Isn't there anything you can do?" She looked up at him, she looked so vulnerable, he thought. But he couldn't let her see his sympathy for her, he couldn't let her know he was sorry for hurting her. He couldn't confess to the lie he had just created, he did feel sorry for Tony, he felt terrible about it.

People deserve what they get Jack, the heroin spoke to him, just like you deserve what you get. He cursed out loud as he felt the guilt creep in, he was sick of it, all of it.

"We can't always have what we want Michelle." He stated as he abruptly moved from the table over to the sink, looking out of the window. "In fact, I don't think we ever get what we want in this life," he paused as something in the garden caught his eye, it was still raining, "in the shadow world…" he muttered under his breath.

"This isn't like you Jack," she said moving over to him, "why are you trying to hurt me? I thought we were friends Jack, is this how little you value me, that you mock me for wanting my husband back, the man who saved my life?"

Jack spun around to face her. He desperately wanted to tell her he was sorry, but the heroin spoke again in his mind, she deserves to be hurt, everyone does. Why should he suffer alone?

"I called Palmer, I did everything in my power to get him to grant Tony a pardon before he leaves office. He wouldn't budge, Michelle, and he wont take my calls. He told me that he can't interfere with the law, and that justice must be served."

"Is this justice Jack, do you think this is fair?"

He looked at her and looked away. How could he explain the mess his head was in, if he couldn't sift through the chaos that was his mind, then how could she possible understand?

"Nothings fair," he muttered as her sobs got heavier. He moved over and put his arm around her.

He was surprised when she hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulder. He hadn't had any physical contact since that day, he didn't think anybody could stand to be near him. He felt selfish now, he realised, and as much as he wanted to leave her and go shoot up, he couldn't. He had done this to her, to hide away his real feelings. To protect himself, he realised.

Let her deal with her own problems, the voice spoke again in the back of his mind. But he couldn't let her go, somebody needed him, something other than the drug actually needed him; he never thought he could feel this way again, but he did.