Jack Dalton cruised around downtown L.A., with no particular destination in mind. Mere hours ago, MacGyver had yet again saved his life with the incredible workings of that ginormous brain of his, so Jack was just happy to be alive.

He'd been scared out of his wits standing in that van, knowing that the slightest movement or twitch of his foot could set the bomb off and blow him up, not to mention the entire city block surrounding him. But, even knowing he could die at any minute, Jack had been even more frightened about what his death would do to MacGyver. As much as the kid had tried to hide it, Jack had seen the tears on his face after watching the video showcasing the death of his CO and mentor, Alfred Pena.

But everything had worked out this time. Jack was alive and well, as was everyone else who had refused to leave his side even at risk of dying - which was humbling to say the least.

As he roamed the busy streets of Los Angeles, smiling at the admiring glances turned towards the car he and his dad had fixed up, Jack's mind travelled back to earlier that day when he and the team had returned from New York with the set plan to go home and shower, then meet for drinks to celebrate yet another safe return home. That was put on hold, however, when they remembered the three hour time difference. It wasn't even suppertime yet. Add to that the fact that everyone was mentally and physically exhausted, and Patty had altered the original plan to include some well-deserved shut eye before the drinks.

Jack had gone to the gym first, which was his way of decompressing, but even with his intense workout in the ring, he hadn't expected to sleep much, figuring he would be jarred awake by an oh-so wonderful nightmare about being blown up. But , once he got home and slipped into bed, he'd been pleasantly surprised when he ended up sleeping better than he had in weeks. He marveled at that while preparing to shower and get ready, until he quickly attributed the dreamless sleep to the realization that even his subconscious had complete faith in MacGyver.

Looking at the time on his dashboard, he called to see if Mac was ready to be picked up. No answer. Jack shrugged and, knowing that Bozer would have called him if anything was wrong, assumed the kid was probably still sleeping. He'd had a difficult couple of days, to say the least, and had actually appeared more exhausted than any of the rest of the team. Not really surprising, considering MacGyver always tended to take more on his shoulders than those around him did.

Figuring Mac needed the rest more than he needed drinks and time with friends, Jack decided to let the kid sleep and made his way to the restaurant-bar Riley had picked out for the evening's festivities.

The next morning, Jack woke up with more than a little bit of a hangover. It hurt to think but he did it long enough to figure out that today was a day off which meant he could go back to sleep. He turned over to do exactly that when his phone rang. With a sigh, he leaned over to retrieve the black jeans, which had been discarded on the floor the night before. Pulling the blasted phone out of one back pocket, Jack didn't even bother looking at the caller ID before accepting the call.

"Hello?" he grumbled into the phone.

"Jack. is Mac with you?"

"Bozer?" Jack asked, instantly becoming alert. "What's wrong? I thought he was with you."

"No, I got a call from Mission City. My mom needed some help with something and there was no one else, so I figured I'd come up here and still be able to get back for the party. I called to have Mac check on one of the slush molds for me but he's not answering his cell or the landline."

"He could just be sleeping," Jack tried, knowing full well that he was grasping at straws and recalling the night before when he'd assumed the exact same thing.

"When have you known MacGyver to sleep past 6am, Jack?"

"Good point," he replied, already slipping into the jeans from the night before and grabbing a t-shirt from his closet.

"Can you - ?"

"Already on my way," Jack told him.

He could almost hear the relieved grin on the other end of the line. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack called MacGyver's cell and landline repeatedly as he drove to the kid's house, each unanswered call ratcheting his concern up to a whole new level. By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was full blown worried about the young man who had come to be more like a son to him than anything else.

He burst through the door and was greeted by absolute darkness. "Mac?" he called out uncertainly. If MacGyver hadn't even come home after the mission, Jack was going to have to inspect all his usual haunts to find him but he got the feeling that there was no time for that. "MacGyver?" A soft whisper of sound had Jack drawing to a halt and holding his breath, waiting for the noise again.

Just when he was starting to believe he'd been hearing things, it came again. Jack followed the… murmur?... to the living room. A silhouette Jack would always recognize was sitting on the floor with his back to the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest. Relief flooding his system, Jack flicked on the light.

His heart stuttered at the sight as he realized his relief was premature. Mac was still wearing the clothes from the day before, even the brown leather jacket and shoes. He was staring at his hands, his fingers twitching beneath his gaze, shoulders heaving with too-quick breaths.

Had he been like this since arriving home the previous afternoon? Jack bit back a curse, even as he moved to kneel in front of his friend. "Mac? Buddy, you okay?" When no response seemed forth coming, Jack reached out to touch one slim hand, astonished to discover how cold it was! "Aw, man, you're freezing!" he exclaimed, snatching the blanket off the back of the sofa. He pulled MacGyver forward enough to drape the blanket over the slender shoulders, then leaned him back against the couch again.

He heard the whisper of sound again and, realizing it was coming from his young friend, he bent closer so his ear was directly in front of Mac's lip but still was unable to make anything out. It may have started as words but right now, it was unintelligible. Jack didn't want to think how many times something uttered by Mac would have to be repeated before it would become nonsensical.

To make matters worse, the kid still wasn't reacting to Jack's presence. He cupped Mac's face in both hands, tilting his gaze up and away from the still twitching fingers and onto him. "MacGyver? Come on, man, you're startin' to scare me here."

Finally, recognition shone in those pale blue eyes. "Jack?"

Gasping with newfound relief, Jack pulled the kid into a quick hug. "Yeah, kid, it's me," he muttered softly, as he started to get him up and onto the sofa. A grunt of pain brought his attention to the stiff knees which were clearly not ready to move just yet. Massaging the taut muscles in MacGyver's legs to get the circulation going, Jack tried to achieve eye contact again but failed. Once both legs were warm with circulation again, he manhandled his friend up and onto the sofa, readjusting the blanket over the kid's shoulders once he was situated on the cushions.

Still crouched in front of him, Jack cupped his face in his hands again and waited for Mac to register his presence.

"Jack?"

More than a little concerned to realize they were back to square one, Jack nevertheless played along. "Yeah, buddy, it's me. What were ya' doin' on the floor?"

Instead of answering the question, MacGyver lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, burying his face in his shoulder.

The embrace simultaneously warmed Jack's heart and scared the crap out of him - hugging in the midst of an apparent emotional breakdown was just not a Mac thing to do. Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a frantic whisper in his ear. "The – the explosion – you – you - "

The last thing Jack wanted to do was pull away from the kid when physical contact was what he seemed to be craving most, but he needed to look into his eyes to figure out what was going on. And what he needed to do to fix it. So, he gently eased the younger man away and locked eyes with him. "What, Mac? What did I do?"

"You – "

A single tear rolled down Mac's cheek and no further explanation was necessary. Jack caught the tear with the pad of his thumb, not breaking eye contact for even a moment, as all the pieces fell into place.

An exhausted MacGyver had evidently come home to an empty house and, instead of sleeping as ordered, had run the mission over and over in his head. It was a typical Mac thing to do. His way of decompressing, just like Jack's method was going to the gym. Except, this mission had brought back some particularly traumatic memories for MacGyver and the unusual silence in the house had allowed his overactive imagination to run uninterrupted through much less successful alternate scenarios – scenarios in which Jack had more than likely died – and no one had been there to bring the kid out of his head and back to reality.

Jack checked his watch. 18 hours since they returned to the Phoenix foundation. Even allowing MacGyver an hour to get home, that still left 17 hours' worth of little mini-movies of Jack being blown to pieces.

"Aw, kid," Jack said, releasing one side of Mac's face to run his hand through the blond strands and then grip the back of his neck. "I'm okay, Mac. You hear me? I'm alive because you saved me! You did it, kid! Okay?"

MacGyver slowly nodded, and Jack could practically see the walls being erected as this almost-trauma was stuffed down deep with all the others.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Jack queried.

MacGyver shook his head minutely.

"Okay, first thing's first, we gotta fix that. Come on," the older man instructed. He lowered the blanket and slipped the jacket off his friend's shoulders. Then he wrapped the blanket around him again, removed the kid's shoes and eased him back into a reclining position. Only to have Mac sit up, resolve clear in his eyes. Kneeling in front of him once again, Jack placed a hand on the nervously bouncing knee and said gently, "You need to sleep."

"C-can't," MacGyver stammered, gaze now beseeching. "Please, Jack – "

Help me? Don't make me? Both? Jack had no way to be sure.

And then the trembling began. Starting off as tiny tremors working their way through Mac's frame but soon elevating to full on shaking. Until Jack was certain the kid was going to vibrate completely out of his grasp. He was still cold but, recalling his own fear of nightmares the day before, Jack knew this went far deeper than temperature. His eyes filled with sympathy for MacGyver's plight, since the kid was most likely fearing that his dreams of Alfred Pena dying would be pooled together with a false memory of Jack suffering the same fate, as they likely had for the past 17 or so hours.

Trying desperately to get control of himself and failing, Mac said firmly, "I n-need to b-be al-lone, J-Jack."

He'd said the same thing at the Ghost's apartment and Jack had mostly complied, standing just outside the door in case he was needed. No way was he leaving him alone this time. "Sorry, kid, that's not gonna happen."

Decision made, Jack pulled the blanket tighter around MacGyver's shoulders and sat down next to him. The way the kid watched him with trepidation told him that Mac's mental aptitudes were returning full force. His emotional ones were a different story, however, as yet another tear slipped down his face.

Jack maneuvered himself so that he was sitting with his back pressed against the arm of the sofa and one leg stretched out behind his friend, then hooked one hand over MacGyver's far shoulder and started to pull him closer.

"Wh-What are y-you d-d-doing," Mac demanded. His cheeks flushed when he was unable to keep the hiccupped sob from escaping.

"C'mere," Jack said simply, tugging him even closer.

MacGyver tried to resist but his exhausted body continued to betray him and he just didn't have the strength. He found himself tipped over on his side, his shoulder pressed against Jack's stomach and his head resting on the broad chest. "Ja-Jack, this is s-stupid - " Mac tried, embarrassment reaching all new heights.

"Sshh, just listen."

"To what?"

"Shush," Jack insisted.

MacGyver frowned at the tone but did as he was told.

"You hear that? That's my heartbeat. I'm alive, Mac. Because of you. Now, go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up," he said reassuringly, pulling him close both to warm and comfort him.

MacGyver wanted to sit up, he really did, but his body just wouldn't obey his commands. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, Jack's heartbeat penetrating his overactive imagination and quelling any nightmarish images before they could even begin to take hold.

Mac would never admit it but the arms surrounding him, the hand he felt carding through his hair, the care and concern, all made him wish that Jack Dalton had been his father.

THE END