A/N So Slokum jumped in my head and told me to write this. I like Jack, I really do...he's not all bad...I don't own him though, he's the property of NBC and Tailwind...
I looked down at the desk drawer. So that was how he did it. That was how he survived countless days of this. I had thought that I wanted the job, that if I had this that my life would be complete. But now that I had it, I didn't want it any more. I knew how he put up with it though now.
It was sitting there, calling to me. It would be so easy to reach in, pull it and a glass out. Have a nice long gulp and forget about the paperwork that was stacked up on my desk waiting for me. Forget about the backlog of autopsies. One long little gulp. It's not as if anyone would know.
He did this all the time, I'm sure of it. I could see enough of myself in him. He's the same as me. Same weak little man as me. Here was his admission of it, sitting right here in his desk drawer, calling my name.
But I can't do it. I've spent my whole life battling this, giving in now just admits I'm weak. And I never admit a weakness. I'm not weak. I've never been weak. I've just had momentary lapses of judgment. And an addictive personality. That's all. He's weak, he's the one that hides a bottle away in his desk.
No, I'm not going to let this job get the best of me. I'm not a bad guy, despite the way I treat the staff. It's just making them more efficient. I don't need the bottle to cope with the reception that I get every morning. They're just pissed off that I'm not him. What if I proved it to them, how weak he is.
He's probably sitting at home, motionless, drunk on his couch. Too weak to do anything else. He's too weak to get sober. Too weak to make things better in his life. I did something about it. I made something of myself. I don't care if the staff hates me for it, I did it. I made it and he didn't.
I'm not going to give in, not like he did. I'm better than that. I'm better than he is.