Chapter 3

The Good Life

TW: Suicide

Hank had offered him a ride home in his chauffeured limousine, but Jack found that he didn't have much more in him that night to continue to shoot the breeze with the man. Making sure everyone on set was working to their full potential could be exhausting – especially with a crew full of incompetents. Hank would no doubt want to go out, get drinks, and flirt with women half his age behind his wife's back. He simply wasn't in the mood tonight.

The memo with Janet's name and number on it didn't help matters much. He decided that perhaps the only way to "leave it in the past" was to walk it off in the brisk December air. He made his way to the exit before bumping into the nightly janitor, a man he was sure he'd never seen before. Or maybe he had. It's not like he ever paid much attention.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly as he moved to go past him without a second glance. But before he could move any further, he felt a hand on his arm. Startled and prepared for a fight, Jack swiftly turned back around.

Instead, the smile of a portly, middle-aged man met his glare. Jack softened a bit, slightly annoyed. "Can I help you?"

"Just wanted to give you something. In the spirit of Christmas," the man said, reaching into his pocket. He lifted out a small slip of paper and handed it to Jack. It was a scratch off lottery ticket. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Tripper."

"Oh, uh...thanks," Jack said as he slid the ticket into his hand. "That wasn't necessary. I don't have anything for you..." He paused – he didn't even know the man's name.

"It's Benny," the man said, as if reading his mind. "And don't worry about it. My pleasure."

"Benny," Jack repeated. "Well, uh...thanks again, Benny." He said, gesturing his thanks with the ticket in hand, then turned around and placed a hand on the door and pushed it open. He paused for a moment and gazed out into what appeared to be a cool, foggy night before he turned back around. "Merry –" he began, but his eyes met an empty hallway. He looked left, then right, but there was no trace of him. "Fast guy," Jack mused, then looked back down at his ticket. "The Good Life," it read. "Win 100,000 dollars instantly." Not bad, he guessed.

He made his way out into the night and wrapped his jacket a little bit tighter. It was a fairly quiet night, and the fog seemed to grow thicker with each step he took. He sighed and began to regret his decision to walk, but he was too far to turn back now. What's worse is that he soon realized that walking is actually the worst thing you can do if you want to get something, or someone, off your mind. "Why would she call now? It's been seven years," he found himself muttering out loud. A passerby displayed a look of judgement. "Keep walking," Jack snapped, staring the person down. She pulled her purse tighter and quickly moved along.

The stark factor, of course, was that there had been little to no correspondence between Jack and Janet in those successive seven years since her wedding. In the weeks leading up to it they had made so many plans to ensure this wouldn't happen. Cooking lessons, family dinners, game nights. It would all happen. Of course it would. You don't just live together for seven years and then suddenly disappear from each other's lives. And then, as these things tend to go, one day followed the next and one excuse followed the other. Visits became phone calls, and phone calls became Christmas cards...until one day, correspondence ceased altogether.

He didn't know why things happened the way they did. Sometimes people stay in each other's lives. And sometimes they don't. Chance, he figured. That's all it was.

The stupid fog was making his eyes moist, so he angrily rubbed at them before he pulled out some change. He took the lottery ticket out of his pocket and began to furiously scratch at every last bit of it, completely unsure of what the rules of the game even were.

Besides! He thought to himself. She was the one who made the choice to get married in the first place! She was the one who wanted to leave! None of this was on him. Even if he never made his feelings clear. Even if he'd had plenty of opportunities to say something. Even if he ultimately made the choice not to. She could've simply never gotten married in the first place! Even as he thought it he knew how stupid his reasoning was. But he didn't care about reason. It took him seven long years to get to where he was now – to a place where reason, or any of the problems of his past, didn't matter anymore.

He continued to scrape the coin against the ticket until he'd nearly punctured a hole in the thing. After a deep, angry breath, he stretched his arm out in front of him to get a good look at it. 'Get 3 like amounts, win that amount,' he mumbled to himself as he speed read the bottom of the ticket. 'Grand prize finalists will be drawn from tickets with 3 entries.' He looked at his numbers, then reread the bottom again. He stared back up at his numbers. No. That couldn't be right.

Not only were three entries the same, but all six read '$100,000."

It had to be a mistake. He checked and double checked. But each time, he came to the same conclusion. He'd won.

"Haha!" he yelled and thrust a fist in the air. He wasn't hurting by any means these days, but an extra 100,000 dollars never hurt. "I won!" He kissed a random elderly woman passing him by on the cheek. "I won!" he repeated, pointing at his ticket. She made a face and hurried away.

"And a Merry Christmas to all!" he yelled as he spun around in the empty street before stopping to look back down at his ticket. "But especially to moi," he said, kissing it. "That Ferrari is mine."

But before Jack could celebrate any further, he heard a man yelling in the distance. He turned around quickly to gauge the source of the sound that had rudely interrupted his moment. A crowd was beginning to gather at a nearby overpass. Tired but curious, he made his way over to the cluster of people and strained his neck to get a closer look. He didn't really consider himself one to gape, but the high of his win made him feel a bit more social. He nudged the man standing next to him.

"Any idea what's going on?" he asked, then bit his tongue to stop it from excitedly telling the stranger that he'd just won 100,000 dollars. He enthusiastically rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet instead.

The man shrugged. "I guess some lunatic is threatening to jump," he replied with little compassion.

The shit eating grin that was plastered on Jacks face slowly turned into a grimace. His brow ruffled with a tinge of concern. This was certainly a jump from one emotional extreme to the next. Everything inside him wanted to ignore the commotion and go home, celebrate his win, shut out the world. But something else made him stay where he was. He soon found himself pushing further through the crowd and he finally spotted the unfortunate man as he made his way closer to the edge. It was hard to make out any details other than that the man appeared to be tall and well-dressed. Another man was already trying to coax him back to safety, but he didn't appear to be making much headway.

"You don't understand!" he heard the well-dressed man yell. "I've lost everything! My entire life savings!"

The words caused Jack's stomach to sink. He wasn't quite sure why, but they struck him like a bolt of lightning. To lose everything. How it must feel. What had happened to this man?

The high from his win had disappeared entirely now. Jack looked down at the ticket that dangled from his fingers. He sighed a long sigh and looked back up at the man on the bridge's edge. He looked back at the ticket, gripped it tightly, then looked back up. Back and forth.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it – to push his way forward, to approach the two men, to involve himself. Maybe that's what happened when certain people got into your head. People that you hadn't allowed to enter in some time. He knew exactly what she would do in a situation like this...and maybe, in that moment, that's what inspired him to do the same.

"Wait!" Jack called. Everybody, including the man on the bridge, turned to look at him.

"Hey, it's Jack Tripper!" one of the bystanders yelled.

"Jack Tripper is going to save that man's life!" yelled another. "Can I have your autograph?"

Jack cringed and tried to ignore them. Normally he'd be eating up the attention but now wasn't exactly an appropriate time. He saw the man on the bridge look down. It was clear the callousness of the bystanders was doing nothing to dissuade him.

"Wait," he said again, quieter this time as he drew nearer, and a bit out of breath. "Don't...you shouldn't, um..." He stopped, trying to think of what to say next. At least now he had the guy's attention. But what exactly do you say to a man who's threatening to end his life?

He swallowed and thought for a moment. Even as the man stood before him, he couldn't get her out of his head. He tried to channel her again. Maybe he didn't know what to say, but it was easy to picture what Janet would say.

"What's your name?" he asked the man, who was facing away from him, looking out toward the traffic below.

"It doesn't matter," the man said. "Nothing matters anymore. Everything I worked for my whole life is gone."

Jack took in some air in an attempt to calm himself. It felt fake, like some sort of script, but he kept going. "What-what happened?" Stall him. Maybe that's all he could do right now. Stall the man until help arrived.

The man didn't say anything for awhile. Jack began to assume he was ignoring him until he spoke again. "My business went under. My wife cheated on me. She's taking the kids."

Christ. "H-how many kids do you have?"

The man cocked his head slightly toward the side but still did not look at Jack. "I know what you're doing and it's not gonna work."

Shit. Jack tried to ignore his retorts so he could continue to try and make conversation. "I don't have any kids myself. I always wanted them but it just...never happened."

"Yeah, well..." the man started to relent a little. "What does it matter? They get older and then they want nothing to do with you anymore. They take her side."

"I bet you they still love you, though. You're their father, after all."

The man scoffed. "Love. Yeah, they love me alright. They love my money. And now that's gone, too."

Jack shifted, anxiously flexing his fingers and looking for the words to say next. He didn't want to be the final reason this guy decided to throw in the towel. Clearing his throat, he said, "What if it's not gone for good?"

"What?" the man squeaked as if Jack had just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

God dammit. "I mean...so things are bad now. Does...does that mean that have to stay bad?"

The man gave an incredulous shake of his head. "Bull."

"No, I mean it. I mean...well, okay, look...there was a time when I thought that I'd lost everything too, right? But now look at me. I'm at the top of my career, successful...mildly famous," he smirked in spite of himself.

"Don't rub it in," the man said. He tried to sneak a glance at Jack. "Don't recognize you."

"That's okay," Jack said, lying a little. "Point is...even if things are bad now, that doesn't mean they'll be bad tomorrow. Isn't that enough of a reason to keep going?"

The man took a deep, heavy breath in, then out as he tightened his grip on the railing.

"Just come on down. Just try to give it another day. See what happens. Yeah?"

Finally, reluctantly, the man took a step back off the edge. He turned to face Jack.

That was when he noticed it. The familiar spark in his eyes, the air of arrogance, albeit dampened a bit. His voice still sounded the same. How did he not notice just a moment ago?

"Dr. Prescott?"

"What's it to you?" he asked, not recognizing Jack.

"It's me. It's Jack. Jack Tripper?" he added when it wasn't registering to Dr. Prescott. "I was a patient of yours. Years back. First with the confidence thing and then with my problem with..." but he was unable to finish that second part.

"Saw a lot of Jacks over the years. Do you think I remember every patient I've ever had?"

"No I just...no, of course not." What a humbling experience this was turning out to be. They said nothing for a moment before Jack spoke again. "I'm sorry to hear about your practice going under."

"Yeah, well. It's not your fault I got caught committing tax fraud."

"Right," Jack said, trying to sound upbeat. Tax fraud. Jesus.

The man shrugged. "Now all I have left is what's in my pockets."

Jack frowned. This was certainly not the Dr. Prescott he remembered. That guy had confidence and a hop in his step. The man that stood before him was downtrodden, dejected. He looked down once more at the lottery ticket he held in his hands and gritted his teeth. His lottery ticket. His Ferrari. He exhaled through his clenched teeth then held out his hand. "Here. Take this."

Dr. Prescott took the ticket and examined it. He scoffed but it was a scoff of amusement. He handed it back. "I don't want your lottery ticket, Jack."

"What? Why not? It's a winner, did you see?" he asked, pointing and turning the ticket toward Dr. Prescott. How could anyone would turn down a $100,000 winning lottery ticket? Especially someone who was down on his luck?

"I'm just not interested, okay?" he replied. It was as though he were offended that Jack would even suggest such a thing. "I don't want your help."

"But you need this more than I do..."

"What do you know about what I need?" he said turning around and waving him off.

Jack stood there incredulous. He turned to follow him. "Yeah but...it's money. It's...it's $100,000 dollars. It's exactly what you need – "

Dr. Prescott stopped cold and turned toward Jack. "I said, I'm not interested," he said again, raising his voice.

Jack stopped, stunned. At the other man's words, the world around him seemed to suddenly become very quiet. He realized, now, that there was no longer a crowd. No help was on its way. He could no longer even hear the sounds of traffic below them. No one else besides the two men seemed to exist in that moment at all. How had everyone disappeared so quickly?

He pushed aside the unsettling feeling to reply. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just thought – "

"You thought what?" Prescott spat back.

Jack was stuttering now, intimidated. "I-I...I just...I don't want you to regret – "

"Regret?" Prescott laughed, almost maniacally. "You want to talk to me about regrets?"

Jack grew anxious. He didn't know if the man was a threat. It was clear he was in a very delicate place right now. He tried his best to remain calm and said nothing.

"You're talking to the wrong person about needs and regrets, aren't you Jack?" said Dr. Prescott as he slowly closed in on Jack.

Jack felt the tinge of unease growing in his stomach. "What?"

"It's just interesting, don't you think?" he said as he took another step closer. "Considering how you gave up seven years ago? Despite all the advice I'd given you?"

The unease grew into a panic. Something wasn't right. Nothing about this situation felt right. "...I thought you said you didn't remember me."

"Do you remember what I said that day, Jack? About choices?"

The panic became anger. Who the hell did this guy think he was? "Basically that life is about choices that we can't take back. Okay? And what business is it of yours?"

Dr. Prescott stopped. "That's what you chose remember about what I said?"

Jack said nothing, only stared at Dr. Prescott angrily. The other man produced an incredulous laugh.

"Look, you want to talk about needs? What about you, Jack? What do you need?"

Jack glared back at him. "I have everything I need."

His laughter was more muffled this time. "Do you, now? Well. That's that, then." He raised a hand to point a finger in Jack's direction. "Just remember; you brought this on yourself, you know."

The sinking feeling came back. "Brought what on myself?"

Prescott laughed through his nose. "I am really going to enjoy this," he said as he began to slowly back away from Jack. "Merry Christmas." And then he winked, turned around, and walked off.

"Enjoy what? Brought what on myself?" Jack yelled after him. Prescott did not turn around. Instead, he grew smaller and smaller before he disappeared into the cool, dark fog. Jack ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. He did a once over, turning around to take in the scene around him, the ticket still clenched in his fist. He remained alone in the street.

Jack's head immediately hit the pillow when he got home. It was no wonder that the thoughts running through his brain prevented him from quickly falling asleep. Far too many things had happened in such a short amount of time. He'd been offered the opportunity to make his show bigger and better. He'd won the freaking lottery. He had stopped a man from jumping to his death – a man he knew – and his cryptic words sat unsettled in his mind.

And while all of those thoughts swirled around in his head without a firm place to land, still the one thing that seemed to matter most was that damn message from Janet. For years he had been safe from having to face the consequences of the decision he'd made all those years ago. He had finally accepted that it was for the better; she wouldn't have felt the same anyhow. He had built his life to a point where none of that had to matter anymore. He didn't want to let go of that safety net now. He wouldn't.

But his resolve didn't stop her face from being the last thing on his mind before he finally drifted off to sleep.