Jack pulls his car into the DXS lot, pleased to see that even after months away no one dared to park in his spot. He lets the car idle for a minute as he glances at his partner. Mac studiously ignores his gaze.
Most people wouldn't be able to spot the difference between the man Mac is today and the man who left on that fateful mission to Lake Como three months ago. But Jack isn't most people. He can still see the pain in Mac's eyes, physical and emotional. The twinge that pulls on still healing muscles. The after effects of losing a partner and lover. Mac's face still gaunt, no matter how Bozer or Mama Dalton piled him with food during his recovery, though neither is aware of the truth or the extent of Mac's injuries.
And worst of all, Jack can see the doubt that plagues Mac. He has his own concerns about Mac's field readiness, but the kid has this hesitancy, this uncertainty preying on his mind.
Jack turns off the ignition. "You sure you're ready for this, kid?"
Mac shrugs, and Jack observes one of those twinges again as the motion tweaks at the muscles in his chest.
"You don't have to do this if you're not ready."
"Aren't you always the one who says 'gotta get back on that horse, man,'" Mac asks pulling out his best Jack Dalton drawl as he finally turns to look at his partner.
"First of all, I don't sound like that. And second, while I don't think I've actually ever said that, if I did it's when we're talking about actual horses."
"I need to do this," Mac's voice serious. His eyes imploring. "I let the bioweapon get away."
And Jack can hear the unspoken words. I'm responsible for Nicki's death.
"Look, hoss, none of that is your fault," Jack says, clapping his hand gently on Mac's shoulder. It's the first time he's touched that shoulder since the hospital. First time Mac's let him.
Except that Mac doesn't let him. He shrugs out from under the touch, and Jack tries not to let it bother him. For his tough badass persona, Jack is a surprisingly tactile kind of guy. Quick with a hug, a fist bump, a slap on the back. He's even gone as far as ruffling Mac's hair like an older brother or uncle, or... Jack doesn't finish that thought.
Mac never seems to know what to do with that physical affection. Never knows quite how to respond to it. But Jack can see how much he values it. How much he enjoys it.
He positively preened that day back in the sandbox when Jack all but picked him up and swung him around after he saved them from what very well could have been their grave.
It was the first time Jack realized, truly realized, how touch starved Mac is. Since then he'd made it a point to get his hands on his boy in some way, at least once a day.
Until now.
Until Lake Como. Not that Jack didn't try. That first week in the hospital, Jack didn't leave Mac's bedside. Only let go of Mac's hand when his own hands were brushing back Mac's hair, or wrapped around Mac's wrist; finding reassurance in the steady beat of Mac's pulse.
But as Mac got stronger, spent more time awake than asleep, he started pulling away. Pushing back from hugs, and not responding to offered fist bumps. Mac's been avoiding his touch since Como. Denying himself that comfort. And Jack doesn't know what to do about it.
All he wants to do is envelope his kid in a hug and not let go until some of the hurt goes out of Mac's eyes.
"My team," Mac says, looking straight ahead again. "My mission."
"That mission was doomed from the start. Before the start. The intel was bad and we knew it. We should have pulled the plug on it."
"We didn't though. We went ahead, and we lost the weapon and we lost Nicki. I need to get it back, for her. After that, we can talk about what's next, but for now I need my partner to back me up."
"You already know what I think, bud. But you also know that I'm here for you. Whatever you need me to do."
Mac nods slowly. He takes a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists.
"Okay then, lets do this."
Jack follows Mac into the building. It's only been three months. He worries that Mac isn't ready to head back into the field, and he silently curses Patty for pulling Mac back into the clandestine world again.
Mac falls into step with him, fits perfectly at his side, as if he's always been there. As if they've never been gone.
"Where are you going?" Jack asks when Mac stops at the elevator.
"Meeting Thornton. Kind of a time sensitive mission."
"Yeah, I get that. But when did you get cleared by medical? I thought your physical wasn't til next week. Thought I was going with you."
"I'm aware that you think you need to be there, but I'm capable of driving myself to my appointments," Mac's voice has an edge.
"So you didn't get cleared yet?"
Mac gives a noncommittal grunt as he waits for the elevator.
Jack hums. "And you aren't seeing anyone before heading into the field."
"I was up to my usual level of activity at my last check up. So we're good."
"Yeah, running the hills, even though it makes me feel like I want to die, isn't quite chasing after terrorists with a bio weapon." Jack frowns.
The elevator pings and the doors open. Mac steps inside. "We have limited window here. I'll get cleared after the mission."
Jack shakes his head, following his partner. "Yeah, you will. And I'm not going to forget," he warns as the elevator doors close.
One minute Mac is in the back of the flatbed truck, fighting off a bad guy, and trying to disarm a bomb. The next he's in the air with a makeshift parachute and Jack doesn't know which of those scenarios terrifies him more.
He's already landing the helicopter.
Mac shouts as he crashes to the ground and narrowly avoids being hit by a car.
"Mac!" Jack yells, but can't be heard over the blades of the chopper. Mac is still on the ground. The truck explodes a moment later in a firestorm of shrapnel.
Jack leaps from the aircraft. Legs pumping, boots pounding the pavement. Heart racing, but not from exertion. He's acutely aware, suddenly, that he is the one not ready for Mac to be back in the field. Not ready to watch him dive headlong into danger.
"Mac!" He yells again as he gets closer. "You alright?"
Mac is starting to slowly rise from the ground. He gives a halfhearted wave.
"Yeah," he answers, slightly breathless, the wind knocked out of him during the landing. Jack nearly screeches to a halt in front of his partner.
"You okay?" Jack asks, hands reaching out, wanting to bodily search Mac for injury. His hand brushes, just for a moment, over the place on Mac's chest, where a scar mars his skin. Where months ago Jack's hand tried to hold Mac's blood inside his body.
Jack pulls his hand back, resisting the need, the urge to touch Mac. Jack pushes a closed fist against his mouth, laughter bubbling. Relief so palpable his legs might not hold him.
"My man, saving the world in style," Jack reaches out with a fist bump, which Mac returns.
There are not tears in his eyes when he puts his hand on Mac's shoulder, and leaves it there, when Mac accepts the touch.
Mac meets his gaze, and offers a tentative smile. Jack takes that grin as consent for him to pull his boy into a tight hug, cradling Mac's head to his chest. He feels the tension leak from Mac as he accepts the comfort.
There are still some broken pieces, but that lost, haunted look is subsiding. And for the first time in months Jack thinks they'll get through this. They'll come out on the other side, stronger than ever.
Jack pulls his car into the Phoenix parking lot. He lets it idle for a moment, glancing over at his partner. Mac is studiously ignoring his gaze.
This is it.
Jack wants to say something, anything. For the first time in his life, the words don't come. Instead he pulls the keys from the ignition and holds them out to Mac.
Mac's gaze flits between the keys in Jack's hand and Jack's face. He slowly reaches up and grasps the key ring.
Jack gently claps a hand on Mac's shoulder. It's tentative, as if asking permission. Because he is. Mac pulled roughly out of a hug two days ago when Jack told him he was leaving, and hasn't allowed Jack close since. This is the first time in two days Mac's allowed that hand on his shoulder.
Except he doesn't. He shrugs out from under Jack's hand. Mac hasn't avoided Jack's touch in a long time, and it shatters the already cracked heart in Jack's chest. All he's wanted to do since he told Mac is hold him. Wrap his arms around his kid and hold on until some of the hurt goes out of his eyes.
The hurt he put there.
The hurt he can't fix this time.
"I need to do this, hoss," Jack's voice low, serious. "I let Kovac get away. I left him alive to continue terrorizing and murdering people."
Mac shakes his head. "That's not your fault. You thought you took him out."
"My mission." Jack says quietly, imploring Mac to understand the responsibility he feels for this. "My shot, and it didn't take him out. I need to fix this."
"Okay then," Mac's jaw clenches. "Let's do this."
Jack follows Mac into the building, memorizing every moment. The way the light streams through the windows, the way his boots creak on the tile floor. The way he and Mac fall into step. In sync in a way that can only come from years of partnership. That familiar presence at his side, exactly where he should be, exactly where he's always meant to be.
He thought he was prepared for this.
He's said goodbyes before. Walked away from teammates and missions. Said goodbyes to family never knowing if he'd see his mama again. Walked away from Delta and the CIA. Each one difficult in it's own way.
But this ache in his chest, this hole so vast and so deep that he can't put a name to it is different.
And he suddenly realizes, what he's never allowed himself to say. What he's felt for years.
Mac is his son in every way but blood.
Jack stops in his tracks at that thought.
"Where are you going?" Mac asks.
"You go ahead there, hoss," Jack clears his throat. "I got a couple things I need to do."
Mac sniffs. "You just want to make an entrance."
Jack holds up his hands with a smile "You caught me. I've always had a flair for the dramatic."
Jack watches Mac walk slowly toward the war room. He tamps down on his emotions. He can't spring that revelation on Mac now. Can't say those words and then walk away. It's not fair to Mac. He's already had one father walk out on him. Jack can't be a second.
He hugs Bozer. Asks him to keep track of his Bruce Willis collection. Bozer starts to tease him, but then Jack sees the realization dawn on the younger man's face. Jack's not asking him to watch out for his prized possessions. Jack's asking him to watch out for the only thing that gives his life any meaning, his family.
The anger is palpable when he moves onto Riley. He left her once before, and now, after she's let him back into her life, he's doing it again. He hopes one day she'll forgive him. Hopes that he'll survive long enough to be forgiven. He holds onto her, just a moment longer, trying to convey everything she means to him.
Mac's hands are shoved deep into his pockets. Jack wonders if that's to keep himself from reaching out for comfort.
There aren't a lot of words between them. They never really needed the words.
Mac quietly gives Jack permission to go.
It takes everything in Jack not to pull Mac into a hug. But he knows. He knows if he does that he will never be able to walk away.
"You just keep thinking, Butch. It's what you're good at." He always thought it was fitting that was the first movie they ever saw together. Always kind of thought they'd go out the same way. A no win situation, a hail of bullets, but together.
Butch and Sundance.
Mac and Jack.
It's here now. That moment. The one he never imagined, because there was never a world in which he left Mac.
He wishes for a way to go back and fix every way he's ever failed this kid. Change the world so he's not about to walk away without ever telling Mac how important he is.
He clenches his jaw and squares his shoulders as he walks out of Mac's life. He has a job to do.