In the Course of Human Actions: Compulsion
Disclaimer: characters aren't mine, but the take on the story is.
Spoilers: anything up to the middle of Disaster Relief.
Category: Leo
Author's note: OK, so I'm trying something a little different here. This is probably the first time I've done a series of interrelated short stories. Hope you enjoy them.
~All human actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reason, passion, and desire.
-Aristotle~
He inserted the keycard into the handle, pulled it out, and pushed the door open. Next, he stepped into the darkened room, automatically dropping his briefcase next to it as the door shut behind him. Slowly, he crossed the room, carrying guilt and shame as he did.
The reasons why didn't matter.
What he did about both did.
And what he knew right then was that what he was about to do would only continue to make things worse, and yet he couldn't stop.
Not when he was here, alone in the dark with his demons.
What surprised him was that he had been able to keep himself from giving in at work, not that his work wasn't being affected already.
He knew he wasn't making good decisions.
That he was alienating the people he was going to need to fix the mistakes he would undoubtedly end up making in the days and weeks ahead.
The people were already doing so.
Part of him hoped that they'd realize why.
Another part--- the more destructive part that couldn't help but give in to this compulsion that was driving him--- hoped that they would just give up, give in, and leave before they realized how weak he was. That they would go so he could fill their positions with less competent, less challenging people, so that he could have someone else to blame for his mistakes.
He hands trembling slightly, he stopped in front of the wet bat. Deciphering shadows, he reached for a crystal glass and picked it up.
He turned it around in his hand, appreciating the weight for a few moments before moving on to the next step of his self destruction.
Grudgingly, he replaced the glass on the tray and reached towards the ice bucket. With precision he removed the lid and picked up the silver thongs, carefully using them to pick up the cubes and transfer them into the glass. He then recovered the bucket and reached for the decanter. Methodically he poured the amber liquid into the glass. Slowly, he replaced the decanter.
For a few moments, he stared at the glass. He wanted tonight to be different, but there was no longer a meeting to attend where anonymity would be guaranteed.
Inhaling, he reached for the glass, picked it up, and brought it to his lips.
He enjoyed the weight.
Found the clank of glass and ice musical.
Thought the smell fragrant.
Savored the taste as the liquid slid down his throat.
Bringing the glass down after the first swallow, he loosened his tie and started to shrug out of his coat, promising himself that he'd only have the one.
Knowing he was lying to himself even as he did all those surrounding him.
Coat falling to the floor as he reached again for the glass, he knew that he could now understand why his father had given into the compulsion to kill himself.
He was doing it himself, only where his father had used a gun his weapon of choice was alcohol.
This time, when he put down the glass, he repeated his steps as his best friend's voice replayed in his head.
"See what happened?"
And he knew that he was to blame.
For it all.
