The Beauty of a Blueberry Basil Bourbon Donut
By: Ridley
A/N: Because my beta asked for this missing 'never happened, but so wish it had scene' from this past week's episode Wind + Water and she asks for so little in exchange for doing so much hard work on my writing. I mostly loved this episode, especially the PSA about our friends in Puerto Rico, but I am worried that splitting up Mac and Jack has become a thing.(IT HAPPENS AGAIN THIS WEEK). I know the actors actually need time off, I just wish they would pair Bozer and Ridley and let Mac and Jack work together. Sigh. But that's what we have fiction for, I suppose, although I have a feeling if the season finale goes like I think it might my interest in this show may dwindle considerably. For those, who like Mary, wanted a little more, I hope this helps.
"When you care about someone, it's not all about being with them…it's about being there for them." -anonymous
RcJ
It was a nightmare scene plucked straight from the menagerie of Jack Dalton's worst case scenarios which he swore he would never let happen. Coming upon the half-crushed vehicle, watching Mac rabbit away from the scene only to be pursued by one of the bank robbers wielding a gun, all while Jack was helpless to help. It was too reminiscent of Mac charging into a bank under siege without any backup.
Taking the risk that Matty's hunch on the closest marina might not pan out and that his partner would be left to face an uncertain end on his own had been hard enough. The possibility of not reaching Mac in time played on all Jack's fears, the ones that had been taunting him that he had once again not been where he was supposed to be when the kid needed him most. Images of Mac locking himself in a room quickly filling with nerve gas as well as laying mercilessly at Murdoc's feet after being shot by the sociopath had flashed through Jack's mind as he recklessly navigated the streets to get to his best friend. He'd had a less than stellar record over the past year, his partner bearing the brunt of Jack's inadequacy in his over watch duties and he was determined not to fail again.
Jack had yelled for Bozer to take the wheel while they barreled towards the carnage of Mac's latest great improvisation, one that had semi-accomplished the goal of preventing his captor's escape if the downed telephone pole across the car was any indication. Leaning out the window, drawing a bead on his target, Jack had gotten off a shot only to miss. It allowed the man pursuing Mac to continue, squeezing off a few rounds of his own. Jack's heart faltered as he swore Mac had stumbled, possibly hit by one of the bullets. To Jack's relief, his partner managed to stay on his feet and kept running.
Jack ducked back into the truck, bringing it to a screeching halt. He ordered Bozer and Riley to stay put as he heard the police cars squeal to a stop behind them. The Calvary could take care of rounding up the rest of the felons. Jack had one target in sight and it was the man chasing Mac.
He momentarily lost visual as they had veered behind the fence which ran along the roadside, angling towards one of the abandoned warehouses. Jack was only a few steps behind when he heard another shot, his heart lurching in his chest, legs spurned faster by the possible fate of his best friend. Jack came to the end of the fence in time to see the bank robber holding his gun on Mac who was down a few yards ahead of him. This time Jack didn't miss.
The bank robber cried out, dropping his gun and grabbing his shoulder. Jack sent him sprawling with a left hook that put him down for the count. He briefly entertained shooting him again for good measure, but reconsidered reminded by the sirens that this wasn't a Phoenix mission and he didn't have the kind of leeway that he was sometimes allowed. Jack plucked the bastard's gun from the ground, knowing if Mac was in bad shape, no amount of inter-agency diplomacy would stop him from revisiting the idea of a kill shot.
"Mac!" Jack yelled as he continued on towards his downed partner.
"I'm okay." Mac groaned breathlessly, attempting to roll over. He didn't quite make it, falling back against the ground with a huff of breath. "Thanks to my perfectly timed unplanned trip."
"You sure you're alright?" Jack sighed as he caught sight of the roll of old fencing, his partner's long giraffe legs tangled in the mess. He shook his head, returning his gun to his holster, placing the bank robber's weapon beside him as he took a knee in front of the kid to help him escape the wire. "Score one for your clumsiness, heh?"
Jack would call it divine intervention considering it had helped Mac evade a bullet to the back. His relief, however, was quick lived as Mac let out another groan, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
"It wasn't pretty, but it was effective."
"That can be said for your telephone pole trick back there, too." Jack shoved the roll of wire aside, reaching a hand out to help the younger man. He winced right along with Mac when the kid rolled over and he got a good look at his partner's face. There were a few bruises along his cheek, the result of a fist no doubt, but what worried Jack the most was the goose egg that had sprung up over Mac's eyebrow, a fresh cut that was oozing blood just above it. "Damn, bud, did you hit your head?"
"Looks like." Mac reached for the injury, but Jack caught his hand instead, keeping him from touching the gore.
"Leave it to you to land in the worst spot possible." Jack glanced to the pile of brick and busted asphalt just behind his partner. He returned his gaze to Mac's pale face, hoping to hell that wasn't bone he was seeing glistening beneath the smear of red. "I guess we're lucky you didn't impale yourself with rebar."
"Right. Lucky." Mac slurred slightly, his arm going to his side.
Jack didn't miss the flash of something akin to guilt in Mac's stunned gaze, his eyes trailing his friend's movement. There was a blood stain spreading over the kid's ribs and Jack remembered the earlier gun fire, the way his partner had stumbled.
"Are you hit?" Jack didn't wait for Mac to answer before he was reaching for the younger man's shirt, tugging it from beneath his best friend's hand. "Let me see!"
"It's just a graze, Jack." Mac's voice sounded shaky, distant.
"I'll be the judge of that." Jack eased his partner back, surprised when Mac didn't put up much of a fight. The kid brought his hands up to grip his hair, breathing in a way that let Jack know he was in some major pain despite his claim of being okay. Mac was right about the glancing wound, a nasty looking score ran along the two bottom ribs but there was no entrance wound. The gash didn't appear too deep but was bleeding freely and Jack had to swallow hard to keep his emotions in check. Mac's blood being spilled wasn't something he took lightly, nor did he bear up well under any instance when the kid had been used as a punching bag. "You were right about the graze. It's a hell of a gouge but not life threatening. Gotta say it goes rather nicely with all the boot sized bruises you got going on. You're as about as colorful as a Pollock painting."
"You know Pollock?" Mac cracked one eye open.
"You're not the only cultured one in this partnership." Jack smirked. He waited for Mac to open his other eye and then gestured to the downed bank robber behind him, raising a brow. "Is this his art work?"
"That depends on whether you're going to kill him or not." Mac pressed out between his teeth.
Jack let go of Mac's shirt, running a hand down his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to put another bullet in the sonofabitch who'd hurt his friend but understood how Mac would feel about the bit of overkill. It was a beating. Mac would heal.
"Jack." The name came out a bit breathy and instantly refocused Jack's attention. The kid's face was a shade whiter than before and a thin line of sweat beaded his forehead.
"No one's dying today." Jack tore the bottom of his shirt, using it to press against the wound on Mac's head, as it seemed to be the source of the most blood. He forced a bit of a smile when Mac grimaced, jerking under his ministrations. "Thanks to you, brother."
"How's Carlos?" Mac asked, shifting the focus from any act of heroism on his part. He looked at Jack through narrowed slits, blinking in what seemed an attempt to clear his vision. Jack wondered how many of him Mac might be seeing.
"Your buddy Carlos is probably on his way to the hospital," Jack assured, trying to determine if his partner's pupils were unevenly dilated. Full blown concussion or not, Mac was getting a scan and some damn stitches. "We'll catch up with him there."
"But I don't need to go…" The expected rebuttal was interrupted by Bozer who chose that moment to come tearing around the corner of the fence.
"Jack!"
"Damn it, Boze." Jack let go of the make-shift bandage he was holding on Mac's head wound to face their teammate, who slid to a halt a few steps behind the unconscious bank robber. His wild gaze went from the downed man to Jack. "I thought I told you to stay put!" Jack barked.
"But Mac…"
Mac chose that moment to roll over and violently empty the contents of his stomach on the ground.
"Mac has a bullet graze." Jack sighed, moving his hand to the kid's shoulder to offer whatever comfort he could. His gaze briefly went to the kid who was barely holding himself up on shaky arms before glancing once more to Bozer. "And probably a concussion."
"Looks like you've got the situation covered," Bozer nodded, his face reacting to another round of his roommate's retching. He started backing up. "I'll just leave you to it then, Jack, seeing as how you are his partner. I'll send an EMT right over," Bozer looked to the bank robber who was starting to come around with a low moan. "Along with a couple of uniforms to collect the garbage."
"Funny how I'm your partner when it's convenient, huh, brother." Jack turned back to Mac, who had rolled once more on to his back, one hand pressed to his forehead, the other wrapped protectively over his middle. Bruised ribs were likely, only adding to the misery of a bullet wound. The kid looked like he was in a world of hurt and Jack once more wondered if he could convince the Puerto Rico police that the bank robber had come to and tried to make a run for it. Jack reached out and gripped his best friend's wrist, feeling the beat of a rapid pulse. "Hang in there, bud. I've got you."
Mac said something but the words were soft and a bit slurred.
"What's that?" Jack leaned over, using his free hand to carefully replace the torn piece of his shirt on Mac's forehead.
Mac moved his hand so that one eye was uncovered. He met Jack's gaze. "I said you're always my partner, man."
Jack's reply was interrupted by the arrival of three officers and a couple of EMT's. He let go of Mac's wrist to move out of the way, only to have the kid quickly reclaim a hold, Mac's fingers practically digging into Jack's wrist now. Their eyes met and Jack gave a reassuring nod.
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
RcJ
Mac awoke with a start, the whiteness of the ceiling tiles above him blurring in and out of focus as he blinked rapidly to orient himself. His heart pounded in time with a dull ache behind his eyes and he couldn't quite hold back on the groan that escaped as he quickly lifted his head to scan his surroundings. He was in a hospital bed, thankfully in his own clothes and sans an IV, boxed in by three drawn curtains instead of an actual room. It looked like an examination suite of sorts and instantly reminded him of some of his stays in the med unit back in Afghanistan.
"Do you need the pink kidney again, brother?"
Mac turned at the sound of his partner's voice, his relief instant at finding Jack present and accounted for and not sporting any military attire. He cleared his throat, hoping the fog in his brain would lift soon. "The what?"
"That." Jack stood, pointing to a pink bean shaped bowl sitting on the rolling stand by Mac's bed. He shrugged, his eyes steady on Mac. "I'm sure it has some fancy medical name besides the vomit bucket but I've never heard Sally or any of her cronies call it anything specific as they're shoving it at you before you barf."
"Please don't say barf." Mac reached up and gingerly touched the bandage on his head, bits and pieces of the last few hours returning with painful clarity. He'd been brought to the hospital after his showdown with the bank robbers, getting several stitches in his side for his trouble, not to mention a few in his forehead. Actually thinking about it made the throbbing more prominent again.
"Don't touch that," Jack admonished, gently drawing Mac's hand away from the lump on his head with an exasperated look a parent might give their three year old. Mac didn't even protest the hovering as Jack squeezed his wrist, and gave a wink. "The pretty nurse did a fine job of patching you up, no need for you to go messing with her handiwork."
"What time is it?" Mac fought his way through the haze in his head, frowning as he glanced towards his wrist. He looked to Jack, who'd taken a seat on the side of the cot, when it took too much effort to see the watch clearly. "Where is everybody?"
"It's a little after three." Jack folded his arms over his chest, tilting his head to study Mac. "Riley and Boze are down waiting on Carlos to be released so I figured when you dozed off after the doc finished with your side that a little nap wouldn't push us any later than we were going to be anyway. They're going to come get us when he's good to go."
"So he's alright?" Mac pushed himself up higher in the bed, wincing when a fiery pain pulled at his side and along his ribs. He wrapped an arm across his middle, ignoring the way Jack's frown deepened, his eyes taking on a definite shade of guilt that should not have been there. Mac was certain his best friend was beating himself up about things completely out of his control.
"The doctor said someone did a good job of taking care of his wound, so he'll be out of here in no time." Jack arched a brow. "Was your insistence at playing doctor what blew your cover and earned you the beat down from the bank robbers?"
"No, that was pretty much a result of me losing them three of their hostages and building a radio so I could talk to you." Mac glanced up at his friend, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I didn't blow my cover. They just weren't all that keen on my improvising, at least not until it suited their purposes."
"I'm not always that fond of it either, even when it does suit our purposes. In fact, if I thought tossing you around might have you thinking of yourself a little more and your inventions a little less I would have tried it years ago." Jack unfolded his arms, running one hand over his hair. "In fact, your genius routine is especially worrisome when I'm not privy to the brilliant plan before hand. Blowing up the building you're hiding in and putting yourself in a hostage situation has to rank as two of my least favorite Mac moment's thus far. Right up there with you running off to Paris solo, having us jump out of a plane with a handmade shoot and taking refuge in a port-o-potty during a cat 5 Storm."
"I'm sorry I didn't have time to consult with you ahead of time." Mac tried for a half grin, hoping to erase some of the weariness and worry from his partner's face. "If it helps, in my head you were totally on board with everything I was doing."
"That total misrepresentation just goes to prove that my being there in spirit, as Riley put it, isn't going to cut it for me, bud." Jack shook his head. "This whole incident has me worried about Matty's latest habit of splitting us up."
"Look, Jack, I know you think you have to take care of me…" Mac tried to sit up even more, trying to ignore the pulling of stitches in his side.
"It's not even about the watching your back part although I gotta say if I'd been in that bank your buddies would have had to go through me before they'd laid one hand on you."
Mac opened his mouth to point out that more than likely all that would have accomplished would have been Jack receiving his very own beat down or worse, a bullet, but Jack's next words robbed him of his counterpoint.
"It's about the beauty of the blueberry basil bourbon donut, dude," Jack stated emphatically as if that should explain everything.
"What?" Mac was beginning to worry his concussion was worse than the doctor had told him. Maybe it had caused an audible processing issue.
"Remember that first time I came home to California with you for a visit?" Jack pulled one of his legs up onto the bed, leaning over to rest an arm on his knee. "You took me to that out of the way bakery called Binkies."
"Blinkies Donut Emporium." Mac corrected, recalling with fondness that first trip they'd made out to the far flung donut shop in the West Hills. It was now a favorite stop whenever they had some downtime to kill and Jack wanted to hit the road in his topless GTO. It often ended up with a hike out at Bell Canyon. "Which you never pronounce right, although we go there frequently."
"Whatever." Jack waved the detail away, continuing on with his explanation. "I wanted to order my tried and true glazed, maybe even go out of my comfort zone with a chocolate iced, but no, my know it all EOD insisted I have their specialty or he wasn't buying, some fandangled concoction of blueberries and basil."
"That donut is a freaking work of art, Jack." Mac said, his stomach rolling at the mere idea of food, even something as delicious as the pastry they were discussing.
"Exactly." Jack jabbed a finger at him. Mac leaned back against his pillows, still unsure of the point his best friend was making.
"I mean at first I thought it was crazy. Well, that you were crazy. The idea of blueberries and basil in a donut had me rethinking the whole being friends with a California boy. If I'm honest, it was almost a deal breaker."
Mac rolled his eyes, absently massaging his temple. "If I recall all it took for you to reconsider the donut and apparently our friendship was the mention of Bulleit Bourbon and once you tasted it, and consumed three more if my memory serves me well, you were a convert."
"That's what I'm saying, kid. Who would have thought that something as dicey as basil and the first frontier whiskey could go so well together?" Jack shook his head. "Sure as hell not me, but that was the best damn donut I've ever put in my mouth. I mean I still like a good glazed now and again, and a few sprinkles here and there are great. I'm even good with a jelly-filled every once and a while," Jack's eyes narrowed as he held Mac's gaze. "But I swear to God Almighty if Bozer ever takes a radio out of my hand during a mission again, I am going to lay him flat."
"Okay." Mac said, slowly. Following his partner's train of thought could sometimes be difficult on a good day, but toss in a concussion and it was brutal. He was pretty sure Bozer was the jelly-filled donut in the metaphor, which meant that …
"But whenever I think of donuts now," Jack continued on. "The only one I really want is that bad ass blueberry basil bourbon one that set the bar so high that anything else is just deep fried dough with some sugar slapped on top." He bumped Mac's knee. "We don't make a lot of sense either, brother. Who would have ever thought that a genius MIT brat and a knuckle dragging Delta would ever be a perfect pairing, but our partnership works."
"You don't have to convince me of that, Jack." Mac still wasn't clear on whether Jack was comparing him to a blueberry or some basil, or which would be the bigger insult, but he got the sentiment just the same. "I meant what I said before, at least I think I said it, with the headache I can't be completely sure, but no matter who Matty pairs me up with, you're always my partner, big guy. I'm always going to need you there, whether you're right there beside me or not."
Jack's smile widened and he no longer looked as worried. "Good, because running imaginary dialogue with you just doesn't have the same dynamic as our face to face conversations. Turns out I need to have your crazy ass schemes in my life to give me something to rant and rave about."
"That's not so crazy considering it seems I need your ranting and raving to do some of my best thinking." Mac snorted. His gaze met Jack's. "And Riley thought we were Co-dependent."
"If by co-dependent she meant completely awesome, then hell yeah."
Mac shook his head as carefully as he could, but still felt the pounding increase again, spreading from the back of his head down his neck into his shoulders. "I'm pretty sure she didn't mean it in such a complimentary way, man."
"Then maybe we should school that girl on some of our other co-dependent counterparts. Like Batman and Robin. Those two had their issues."
"Or Bill Gates and Paul Allen." Mac almost grinned at his partner's doubtful look.
"Butch Cassidy and Sundance?" Jack offered in rebuttal.
"Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak." Mac raised a brow.
"Waldorf and Statler," Jack countered, stubbornly.
"Who?" It was Mac's turn to frown in confusion.
"The old bantering guys from the Muppets?" Jack explained, waving his hand around. "You know the ones who sit in the box seat in the theater?" When Mac continued to draw a blank, Jack bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, so maybe I found a new deal breaker."
"How about Han Solo and Chewbacca?" Mac offered, knowing he'd said the right thing when his partner lifted his head, Jack's face brightening as if Mac might have just served up an entire dozen of blueberry basil bourbon donuts, with a generous shot of Bulleit whiskey on the side.
"There's my boy." Jack lifted his hand and Mac bumped his fist against it. "If Riley doesn't concede that we're perfectly normal, then we'll make her watch The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi on the way to Pakistan."
"Right because what better way to prove our complete emotional autonomy and stability than to flaunt our delusions of grandeur." Mac's mouth twitched as Jack looked a bit flustered.
"Brother, I don't have anything to prove, especially when it comes to what you and I have been through. Our partnership might not work for everyone, but it sure as hell works for us, and that's all that matters to me."
Mac nodded, glancing down to fidget with the hospital admittance band around his wrist. "I suppose blueberry basil bourbon donuts aren't everybody's cup of tea."
"Then they don't know what they're missing, bud."
Mac looked up to find Jack's gaze had grown serious once more. He blamed the concussion for the rare rush of emotion that his partner's words brought. They had him swallowing hard and blinking. Jack had been the biggest surprise in Mac's life, too, the older man's dedication and loyalty not making one damn bit of sense, as odd as any strange mix of random flavors forming something more than palatable. Where Mac's own father had seemed all too willing to cut ties and walk away, Jack was dogged in his determination to stay present, to be wherever Mac needed him to be. He held his partner's gaze, giving a knowing nod.
"I know I sure didn't."
But Angus MacGyver was so glad he'd gotten a chance to find out.
The End…for now.