Title: My Gunshot Wound
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship
Rating: T
Characters: Jack Dalton, Angus MacGyver
Summary: There was no special occasion. So why were there fireworks? Not to mention, Jack had no time to prepare himself. Includes PTSD-induced panic attacks.
Pairings: None
Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, swearing
Word Count: 2,474
Author's Note: If I'm being honest, I'm kinda saddened by the lack of Jack angst stories. Don't get me wrong, I like hurt Mac and all, but I think Jack could share the load a bit. PTSD seems to be the most reasonable thing Jack would suffer from. This was heavily inspired by the story, "New Year's Eve" by MarenMary93. I highly suggest you check it out. It's great. This is also my first attempt at writing PTSD, so don't be too harsh. Without further ado, enjoy!
xxxxxxx
"This is probably the cheesiest thing we've ever done."
"Shut up, Jack. Would you rather eat inside the car?"
"I'd rather eat on your patio, but I guess the car is fine, too."
Mac rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he didn't move from his spot, knowing that Jack didn't mean it and wasn't going to move either. "Not my fault your tire blew out."
"Hey! Wasn't my fault either!" Jack argued. "Who puts an axe in the middle of the road when it's dark enough that you can't see ten feet in front of you?"
"It's why cars have headlights, Jack," Mac retorted, shaking his head in exasperation.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Well, sorry I haven't had them fixed yet since some Russian mob boss decided to put bullets in them."
Mac sighed. Jack wasn't going to let him win this one. "Okay, Jack, but, seriously, why was there an axe in our lane?"
Jack shrugged. "Who knows?" He replied, standing up from his seat on the hood of the car. "Probably dropped out the back of a pickup truck or something." Jack opened the back door and retrieved one of three boxes of pizza, circling back to where MacGyver was sitting.
Jack placed the box on the hood of the car before lifting himself on top as well. Mac opened the box of pizza and pulled out a slice for himself before handing one to Jack. The older man gratefully accepted it and closed his eyes in pleasure as he took a bite. MacGyver did the same, though the reaction wasn't as dramatic.
"Bozer and Riley are probably going to wonder what's taking us so long with our food," Jack thought out loud after swallowing his piece.
"Probably," Mac agreed. "Maybe they could come find us when they realize we're taking way too long." He bit off another piece.
The two friends continued idle chatter for a while afterwards, having long filled their appetite. They were now resting on Jack's car, leaning back against the windshield.
"Can't remember the last time I went stargazing," Jack reminisced out loud.
"Technically, we didn't come out here with the intention to stargaze," Mac pointed out.
"Shhh. Don't ruin the moment."
Mac snorted. "Right, sorry."
Jack opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a high-pitched shriek piercing the air. He watched as a small streak of smoke shot through the sky and had no time to prepare himself as a loud bang echoed around him.
He pulled up his bandana to cover up his mouth and nose. Sand whipped around his face as he and his team trudged through the scorching desert that was Saudi Arabia. His backpack felt like a thousand pound weight on his back, but it was no heavier than the responsibility of getting his team out of here alive. They were depending on him.
"Jack! Jack!"
He could vaguely hear Mac screaming his name, but he wasn't supposed to be here. Why the hell did the weather all of a sudden feel like it was seventy five degrees instead of ninety? And why the hell was he crouched beside a car?
Another shriek filled the air, followed by another deafening boom.
An IED. How did he not see it?
Because of his carelessness, one of his men was screaming in pain, holding onto a leg that was no longer there. He was going to die of blood loss. Jack knew it, his team knew it, but he'd be damned if he let his teammate die alone.
So he crouched beside him and cradled his teammate's head onto his lap, sincerely hoping that they wouldn't be disturbed or heard by the enemy forces.
"Help me! God, please, help me!"
Jack felt hands grabbing at shoulders. He could distantly hear Mac begging with him to calm down. He was begging, pleading, with Jack. Just like his teammate did. Why was Mac here? He wasn't supposed to be here!
Jack patted his pockets, searching for his gun, but he couldn't find it. Where was his gun? Where was his goddamned gun? He was going to protect Mac, no matter what.
The shriek and boom echoed again.
"Captain! We have company!" A sergeant called forward.
Jack looked up and peered through his sunglasses. Several Jeeps were plowing through the sand, but they were going on a path made to drive across from where the team was located. They could drive right past Jack's team without noticing them. However, if his teammate continued screaming, they would surely be discovered and all be put down like pigs for a slaughter.
Jack swallowed thickly as he glanced down at his bloody, writhing teammate.
"Captain, we have to do something!"
"Shut him up now!"
"Kill him. Make him stay quiet!"
"Someone, please! Help me!" Jack's comrade screamed.
"Captain!"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Luke," Jack whispered. He placed the silencer onto his pistol and pressed it to his friend's head. "I am so, so sorry."
He pulled the trigger.
"Jack, please! Listen to me! Jack, you're okay! You're safe!"
No. No, he wasn't safe. He wasn't safe at all. The trucks had separated into different directions. One was heading this way…
The shrieks and booms followed in rapid succession now. Almost like-
"Captain, the trucks!"
Jack looked up from the battered corpse of his best friend, Luke Michaels, from the cold, lifeless, blue eyes. The three enemy trucks that were supposed to pass them suddenly began to separate. One headed north, one continued east, and one started heading south.
Right in their direction.
"Five hostiles spotted, sir! All armed."
Jack bit the inside of his cheek as he hesitantly pushed Luke off his lap, the once blonde hair now matted with blood. He stood up from his spot in the sand and closed his eyes before opening them again. A blaze of fury was roaring within him as he commanded,
"Get ready, men!"
"Yes, sir!"
The remaining four men all drew out their weapons and aimed at the Jeep driving in their direction. The second sergeant and a lieutenant both aimed at the truck's tires while another lieutenant began shooting at the driver. Jack put away his pistol and pulled out his own AK. He joined in the shooting.
Soon, bullets from both sides were flying everywhere. Jack could feel bullets whizzing by his face, signalling too many close calls. It was five against four, but the team was standing fairly well against their opponents.
Jack's team managed to have their enemies back up towards their Jeep again, ducking for cover as they reloaded. The sergeant and lieutenants began moving in for the kill, but Jack waved them back as he reached for his own grenade and chucked it at the Jeep.
'For Luke, you bastards,' he thought as he watched the truck and men burn down in flames.
"Jack! Jack!"
He was sitting on cement. Why was he on cement? Shouldn't he be in the sandy desert of Saudi Arabia? And why was it sort of cold out? Why was it dark?
Jack looked up from between his knees and let his hands drop from their interlocked position behind his head. His disconcerted gaze met Mac's worried and scared one. He looked around. He was in the middle of nowhere on a dark road with his best friend beside him.
Now that he was so close, Jack could see it. MacGyver looked so eerily similar to Luke, more than he would like to admit. God, he missed the sonuvabitch, but he got another pain in the ass that he wouldn't trade for the world in return.
Speaking of said pain in the ass, Jack figured he had a lot of explaining to do.
The older male placed his face in his hands and groaned. "I am so sorry, Mac."
"Jesus, Jack, are you okay? What the hell just happened?" Mac's voice was one of relief, but Jack could tell he was still pretty shaken up.
"I'm okay," Jack answered with a sigh. "It was a, um...It was a PTSD-induced flashback. I get them every once in a while."
"Every once in a while?" Mac repeated incredulously. "And you didn't think to tell me?"
"Why would I tell you?" Jack asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "I didn't want you to know."
"Jack, you have to tell me these things! You shouldn't be going through them alone."
"I'll be fine," Jack replied, waving off Mac's concern. He stood up from the ground shakily, and Mac followed. "I'm used to it."
Mac's worried expression turned into an outraged one. "You shouldn't be used to it, Jack! That's the problem! How long has this been going on?"
Jack winced. "Can we, uh, not answer that question and move on?"
"Jack. How long?" Mac demanded seriously.
"Since I first returned home from Desert Storm," Jack answered hesitantly.
Mac's jaw dropped. "That was years ago!"
Jack gave a sheepish smile in return.
"Stop smiling! This isn't a damn joke, Jack! Why didn't you tell me? I could have been helping you!"
Jack raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, I've been seeing a therapist about it. I think I'm getting better."
"Clearly not after what just happened!" Mac snarked back.
Jack flinched. "Okay, whoa. Relax. I know I scared you and all, but I'm sorry, okay? I am. I didn't mean for you to see that."
Mac scoffed in disbelief. "Are you serious? I'm not mad at you for having a panic attack, you can't control that. What I am angry about is that you didn't tell me!"
"I didn't want to tell you, Mac!" The older man argued.
"Why? Why were you so dead set on keeping this from me?"
Jack swallowed thickly. Mac's face wasn't angry anymore. He looked worried again, but he also looked hurt. Jack had made Mac feel like Jack didn't trust him. That was completely false, though. Jack trusted his partner with his life, but….
"Jack, you once told me that my problems were your problems and vice versa. Explain to me why you didn't tell me about this before."
Jack sighed. "I was afraid," he answered quietly, leaning back against the car door.
Mac narrowed his eyes. "Afraid? Afraid of what?"
Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. "Afraid of you being like the others."
"What others?"
Jack took a deep breath. "When I was first diagnosed, my therapist told me to set up a support system: family, friends...And I did. Or, at least, I tried. I didn't exactly have the most supportive family growing up. It was just my dad, and, well, he was gone by that time, so there wasn't anyone to rely on. When I told my other family members, they shied away from me. They were scared of me, afraid that I would hurt, or even kill, one of them during one of my flashbacks. Which, now that I think about it…" Jack narrowed his eyes at his partner. "I could've killed you. What were you thinking, getting so close?"
Mac raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. "I was thinking that my best friend was having a panic attack and I needed to calm him down. Now don't change the subject. Keep going."
Jack rolled his eyes but continued, "So, when my family gave up on me, I turned to my friends. Thing is, the only friends I had were just a couple of guys back from war. They had their own demons to deal with. They couldn't deal with mine, too. In the end, I guess, I ended up-"
"-alone," Mac finished quietly. "Holy shit, Jack."
Jack nodded and looked down at the asphalt, shuffling his feet. "Yeah. I guess that about sums it up. I didn't tell you because I thought you'd run away from me, too."
Mac let out a deep sigh. "Jesus, Jack, no. I wouldn't leave you like that."
"Sorry that I scared you."
"What? No. Don't apologize for that. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't control yourself," Mac soothed.
Jack allowed himself a small grin as he looked up at his best friend. "You're a lot like him, you know."
Mac furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Who?"
"Luke," Jack responded. "He used to be on my team back in the Gulf War. His death was what my flashback was about."
"What happened to him?" Mac pressed quietly.
Jack let out a small breath. "He was walking a little too ahead of our group. The wind pushed him and knocked off one of his ammo packs. It triggered an IED. He got caught in the blast and lost his leg. He was bleeding out, screaming for us to help him. At that moment, three enemy Jeeps were headed near us. My other teammates panicked. They were yelling at me to find some way to shut Luke up. I had no choice…"
"Jack…" Mac whispered in horror.
Jack had to look away. "I shot him. I shot him, and it didn't matter anyway because one of the trucks came toward us and we got into a firefight. I had to leave him behind. He couldn't come with us. He's still in Saudi Arabia." Jack's voice cracked at the last sentence, but he refused to let tears fall.
"Jack, I'm so sorry."
Jack waved away Mac's sympathy. "It's okay. It's fine. It was a while ago. You just remind me of him."
Mac was quiet for a moment. He came to Jack's side and leaned his back against the car door as well. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore now. You know that, don't you?"
Jack shook his head. "You don't have to feel obligated to help me, kid. I'm screwed up, I'm well aware, but you don't have to carry that, too."
"You stubborn ass!" Mac snapped. "I want to do this! I want to help you because I care about you! I don't feel obligated. I'm doing this for you!"
Mac really didn't like how fragile Jack seemed tonight, or how he belittled himself. Mac wasn't the touchy-feely kind of guy, but he allowed himself to wrap his arm around his best friend's shoulders.
"Jack, this isn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. You've been through Hell, man, and we were dumb to think that it wouldn't have long term effects. But I know now, and I'll be damned if I let you go through this alone."
Jack swallowed before nodding slowly. "Yeah...yeah, okay. Thank you, Mac. For everything."
Mac smiled. "Anytime. Now let's eat the rest of the pizza. Riley and Bozer don't deserve it after leaving us out here for so long."
"Sounds good."
And, for the first time in a long while, Jack was sincerely happy.