Any Jack or Jamie
After he'd finished up at the Hotel, and finished up his bottle of hypervodka, John was ready to get *really* drunk. His conversation with Mulder had rattled him in a way he couldn't really place, and now he was homesick for a home he'd never had.
He was sitting at the end of a quiet bar in New New York, downing shot after shot, and toying with the settings on his wriststrap, trying to argue himself out of sending out a message to *every* Jack in the place. Jack was the nearest to home that he knew, but annoying logic kept interrupting his desire. 'On HIS terms' was going around his head like a mantra, and it was giving him a greater headache than he knew how to deal with. So, unconsciousness was the goal, until the urge had passed.