STOP! Before you read this story, you MUST read the following: MURD 201: Syllabus by Haven126. Seriously, this will not make sense if you don't.
That said, my eternal thanks and gratitude go to Haven126 for the unwavering support, co-plotting, editing, and co-authoring. I'm really not good at this. She's awesome. Let's continue. ON WITH THE SHOW!
"Hey, Jack, grab the toolkit out of the back?" Jack could practically hear the gears in Mac's head turning as he spoke, and the former Delta gave a slight smirk, pivoting in the gravel towards the back of the Jeep.
He never saw the gunman; the bullet tore mercilessly through his body, the sound hitting his ears a fraction of a second later. He fell back, slamming hard into the pavement, feeling his skull bounce on the gravel. His head rolled, and he saw Mac leap up from his place crouched beside Elliot's bike. He tried to warn his partner when he saw the man they'd stopped to help pull a taser, but he couldn't find his voice. Mac went down hard, his whole body seizing up. Elliot pulled a syringe from his pocket, and Jack was helpless to stop him from brushing Mac's hair aside and inserting the needle into his neck
Mac was in danger. He had to move, had to get up, had to do something. He tried to push himself to his feet, but it was almost like he was paralyzed. He could only manage to move his arm, trying to reach for his gun...but it wasn't there. And of course it wasn't—he didn't need a gun to plant trees.
Come on, kid, stay with me, Jack implored in his mind, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to breathe through the worst of the pain. His eyes were locked on his partner, wanting more than anything to get up, get him out of there, protect him, but there was nothing he could do; his body wasn't listening to him. He watched helplessly as his partner started to gather his arms under himself, like he was about to crawl towards him, and Jack mentally begged him to do so. He hardly heard his shooter's footsteps as Drew came closer, even though the sound drew the younger agent's eye. Mac never got the chance to move; Jack was forced to watch as Mac's eyes fell shut and his body went limp on the gravel shoulder. It wasn't until after Mac was out cold that he shifted his anger- and pain-filled eyes to the gunman. Drew was aiming his weapon at Jack's chest, grinning down at him. What Jack wouldn't give to be able to get up and smack that grin off his smug little face...
"Sorry about this, Jack," his shooter's voice was quiet to Jack's ears, echoey, distant. His vision was starting to blur as blood continued to leak from his wounds. "I really did like you."
Jack wanted to retort, but he couldn't catch his breath. He heard gravel scraping, and looked back over to see Elliot dragging Mac towards the Jeep, the headlights catching his blond hair, which was falling in his face. The former Delta didn't think, didn't hesitate; he started trying to pull himself over to his partner's side, not caring when pain shot through him, nor when Drew began laughing. The shooter put his foot on Jack's chest, pushing him down again easily.
"Don't strain yourself," the younger man advised with a sneer as his boyfriend opened the back door of Mac's Jeep and began hefting the unconscious agent inside. He was so close, literally just inches away...Jack reached for him, his hand closing around a handful of his partner's jeans, holding on like his life—and Mac's—depended on it, panic lending him strength. But, with how much blood he'd already lost, that strength wasn't enough, and it was all too easy for Elliot to pry his fingers off of the fabric and continue with his task. Drew laughed at his efforts, looking amused. "What did you think that was going to do, Jack? Just give it up."
Jack glared up at him, wanting desperately to fight, to do something, but he was barely conscious at that point. Drew was right; there was nothing he could do. But still, he tried. He reached up with a shaking hand and tried to push Drew's foot off of him. His movements were slow and weak as his body tried desperately to stay conscious, trying to pull air into his damaged and bleeding lungs. Drew laughed at him again, but stepped off the man anyway, crouching down beside him.
"You know, I don't know if I'm being kind or cruel by not killing you right now," he admitted, his voice soft and eyes studying Jack's face intently as the agent watched his partner get shoved into the back of the Jeep, Elliot grunting with the effort. "On the one hand, I'm giving you a chance. On the other, the odds of it making one damn bit of difference are slim, and even if you do make it...once you see what we're gonna do to your boy, you're gonna wish I'd killed you anyway. But, you know what they say: if you're good at something, don't do it for free."
"If you're done, babe," Elliot sighed, sounding a bit perturbed that he'd been left to do all the heavy lifting, "we should get going."
"He gets jealous sometimes," Drew shrugged, standing up. "I'd love to stay and chat some more, Jack, I really would, but we're on a bit of a tight schedule. I'd say 'see you around,' but, well..."
He gave him a small smirk, then turned and walked back towards the bike as Elliot climbed behind the wheel of the Jeep. Both vehicles started easily, and this was when Jack started to really panic. They were going to kill Mac; he had to do something. But, as he tried in vain to get to his feet, he was again reminded that there was nothing he could do. He was dying; that much was obvious, and it made fury well up inside him, a second rush of adrenaline that lent him strength he didn't know he had. It came too late. By the time he could even maneuver himself into a remotely mobile position—on his stomach rather than his back—Elliot and Drew had already driven off, Mac with them. Desperation fueled his rush and his blood loss, giving him strength and slowing him down at the same time. Gritting his teeth, he started dragging himself across the gravel in the direction his attackers had gone, feeling agony shoot through him with every motion. Some part of him knew it was a pointless endeavor, but hey—at least when they found his body, they'd know which way Mac had been taken. If he could spare them even a few minutes of search time, it might make all the difference.
Just as he'd lost the strength to keep pulling himself forward, a car came around the bend, the headlights blinding him. It came to a stop in front of him, and the last thing he saw before he was finally pulled into unconsciousness was a tall, dark silhouette coming towards him.
When the wounded agent finally came to again, the first thing he noticed was the tube down his throat. His first thought was a four-letter word, uneasiness that he tried to suppress stirring in him. Listening, he could hear the ventilator it was attached to, the steady beeping of his heart monitor. God, did he hate ventilators. To have such a base action as breathing taken out of his control was always unsettling. But, that discomfort did help shake his mind of the effects of the pain meds and sedation he was undoubtedly on. His eyes remained closed, partly due to how heavy his eyelids were, partly due to the fact that he didn't want to open his eyes only to be told that they'd been too late to save his partner. Whatever Elliot and Drew had wanted Mac for, it certainly didn't sound like they were planning on keeping him alive for too long. Jack was hit pretty badly, so if he'd been taken to the hospital, gone through surgery, and had the chance to wake up, that meant a lot of time had passed. Maybe too much time.
Still, he knew he couldn't keep his eyes closed forever, so, after working up the courage, he pried them open. He first noticed Riley and Bozer sitting to his left, Bozer sprawled in his chair and snoring ever-so-softly, Riley with her feet up on his nightstand and arms folded over her chest. They both looked so tired. He probably put them through hell, not answering calls, showing up in the hospital without Mac...he could have prevented that if he'd just told Mac to keep driving...
The former Delta blinked, trying to keep his tears at bay, and slowly dragged his eyes around the room. He found Kyser, awake but apparently enthralled in the book he was reading, his feet up on the edge of his hospital bed. It was comforting to see him there. Finally, he pulled his eyes away, settling his gaze on the fourth person in the room, expecting it to be Matty or maybe another member of the tac team, but he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat when he saw Mac's messy blond hair falling in his face as he rested his head on the edge of Jack's bed, using his arm as a pillow, wearing a hospital gown and a pair of sweats. Like Bozer and Riley, he looked utterly exhausted, his face tense even as he slept. But he was alive. This time, Jack couldn't keep the tears back, and he lifted a shaking hand, placing it on the younger man's arm. The action was enough to wake his partner with a bit of a jolt, and Mac sat up, rubbing his eyes a bit before he realized that Jack's hand was on his arm. The agent slowly lifted his eyes from his arm up to his partner's face, and when he saw his eyes open, he let out a shuddering breath.
"Jack," the relief in the younger man's voice was immense, but it wasn't the only emotion in his tone and expression; Jack also detected distress and worry, which didn't surprise him much, but also fear, which made dread settle in his stomach. If Mac was still scared, it probably wasn't over.
Hearing Mac say Jack's name made Kyser look up from his book. When he saw his long-time friend awake, he gave a warm smile, standing up and moving to rouse their two sleeping friends.
"Jack, hey," Mac struggled to find his words. "How're you feeling?"
Jack didn't bother trying to speak, instead giving a thumbs up with the hand closest to his partner. His eyes asked the same question in return, and Mac nodded.
"I'm okay," he promised. "Really, I am."
Jack gave the smallest of nods, allowing him to believe that he believed him for now. He shifted his eyes to Riley and Bozer as both woke up and subsequently leapt to his side.
"Hey, old man," Riley's eyes glistened when she spoke, but she refused to let herself cry. "You really scared the hell out of us."
A nonverbal apology was the best Jack could offer, but it was enough for Riley, who smiled at him. His next question was nearly as obvious as his first as he looked at each of them: What happened?
Riley and Bozer both opened their mouths to explain everything to him, but Mac beat them to it.
"When I woke up, Drew and Elliot had me set up in a warehouse," he told his partner. His friends looked at him in surprise, but they said nothing, allowing him to be the one to break the news to his partner. "Apparently, someone put out a contract on me. They were going to kill me, make a video of it and send it off to whoever was paying them. I was strapped down to a chair, handcuffed. It wasn't looking good for me, honestly, but...even though Drew was a pro, Elliot definitely wasn't. He was always close to me. I was able to get one of my hands free. I grabbed Elliot, used him to get Drew to let me out of the chair...obviously, that wasn't going to work forever, so I ended up having to fight them off. I got outside and I ran, found my way to a gas station, and called Matty, but...Drew and Elliot got away."
It was a pile of horse shit. Jack knew it even before he saw Mac shoot a silencing glare at the other three in the room, who were looking at the blond agent in confusion, before he saw their nervous smiles, before he saw Kyser's jaw twitch. A daring escape the way Mac had just told it wouldn't have even gotten him admitted to the hospital, much less land him in a hospital gown with an IV. It wouldn't have left the kid looking so sick, so broken, so utterly terrified, even if his attackers hadn't been caught yet. At the very least, he could say with certainty that if he'd really fought someone off, he would at least have some bruises to show for it, but Jack could see no injuries, least of all to his knuckles. And he sure as hell wanted to call him on it, to get the real story, to try and figure out what he could do to help, so he reached up with his right hand, dead set on pulling that damned tube out of his throat. Kyser was there in an instant, intercepting his hand and putting it back down on the bed.
"No way in hell, Dalton," the medic laughed, but his eyes held a warning. "Your lungs aren't ready to breathe on their own. You so much as think about touching that tube, and I swear to God, I will have you restrained."
Jack glared at him, his eyes dangerous, but Kyser just rolled his eyes.
"Oh, please," he scoffed. "Don't give me that look. I could literally take you down with my pinky finger right now, Jack. You're not going anywhere and neither is that tube; deal with it."
Again, all Jack could do was glare, but eventually, he blinked in acceptance, deciding that he could let Mac think he got away with his lie for now. Kyser smirked at his victory.
"Alright," the medic's voice was much softer this time. "I'm going to go find the doctor, let her know you're awake. Mac, Bozer, and Riley, you guys should really get something to eat; you've been here all night."
His suggestion was met by a chorus of "no"s and "we're not leaving him alone"s, but Jack silenced them by simply lifting his hands a bit to get their attention and giving them a small nod, encouraging them to go. Best not to spew piles of bullshit on an empty stomach. God, he couldn't wait to call them out...
Reluctantly, the three young Phoenix agents nodded and slowly filed out, Mac dragging his IV pole with him. When Kyser opened the door, Jack saw Simmons waiting in the hallway, and when he saw their convoy, he started to move in to take their place and keep him company. For a moment, Jack was excited; at least he might be able to get some truth out of Simmons. But, before he headed in, Kyser stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him something that Jack couldn't make out—probably looping him in on the bullshit story they'd decided to tell him. Simmons gave a nod, then headed into the room, closing the door behind him. Jack looked at him expectantly, and Simmons knew in an instant that he didn't buy the story Mac was trying to sell.
"What can I say, Jack?" Simmons shrugged, carefully compartmentalizing his emotions and concerns, keeping the excellent poker face that Jack had on more than one occasion cursed him for. "Mac pulled off an amazing feat."
At this, Jack just rolled his eyes and settled in. Until he could argue, he was just going to have to suffer in silence.
Bozer waited until Simmons had gone into Jack's room and closed the door before he turned to Mac.
"So, what the hell was that?" he asked his best friend and roommate, raising an eyebrow.
"We can't tell Jack about Murdoc," Mac told them, his tone serious as he looked each of them in the eye. "At least not yet. Just...let him recover some, guys. Let him heal. There's nothing he can do about it, so there's no point in telling him; it'll just upset him. We'll tell him when he gets out of here, okay? Until then...he almost died, guys. I thought I watched him die. Murdoc's playing the long game; Jack's gonna need as much recovery time as he can get. He needs to rest. Agreed?"
Bozer and Riley nodded, looking down at the floor, Riley folding her arms over her chest almost as though she were cold. After he'd recovered enough to speak, Matty had come by, and Mac had told all of them the highlights of his experience earlier, including the part where Murdoc had told him he was going to target each and every one of them. Kyser was the only one who didn't respond, and Mac settled his eyes on him.
"Kyser," he got the man's attention, the medic lifting his eyes from the floor to meet his gaze. "Agreed?"
"Murdoc's targeting him, too, Mac," Kyser reminded him slowly.
"I know," Mac's voice trembled when he spoke, heavy with dozens of emotions. "Believe me, Kyser, I know that better than anyone."
"He deserves to know," the medic stated, his jaw twitching slightly.
"He does," Mac agreed. "And he will. But not now. Just let him rest. Murdoc is not going to come after him first; he's got time."
"How do you know that?" Kyser challenged. He'd been Jack's friend for over a decade. They'd been to hell and back together; keeping something this serious from him, even to protect him, didn't feel right.
"Because," the traumatized agent let out a trembling breath and shot an apologetic glance in Riley's direction, "he wants to torture me. He's going to come after everyone else first before he comes after me, and...and he wants to kill me and Jack together. Make us...watch each other die."
His friends stared at him in horror, and Mac cleared his throat, blinking hard and shaking his head to clear away unwanted memories.
"The point is, Jack doesn't need to know right now," he said firmly. "Please, Kyser; just let him think that Drew and Elliot are the worst of our problems right now. Please."
Kyser hesitated, then gave a quick nod. "Okay," he agreed, some reluctance remaining in his eyes. "Okay, agreed. We won't tell him for now."
"Thank you," Mac's gratitude was sincere. He started to walk off in search of that food he'd agreed to eat, but he stopped.
"Oh, and..." he turned back to his three companions, looking each of them in the eye. "Don't tell him what Drew was going to do to me, either. Like, ever. He...he doesn't need to know that. It didn't happen, so there's no point. All it would do is make him feel worse than he already will."
This request, none of them protested, and Mac nodded appreciatively at them. Then he, Riley, and Bozer made their way towards the cafeteria—picking up a couple members of the tac team, nearly a dozen of whom were helping secure the floor, as they went—and Kyser let out a weary sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing back at his friend's hospital room. After a moment or two, he shook his head and pulled out his phone, texting Matty to let her know what they were doing—she was poring over the evidence left at the scene—then set off in search of the doctor.
Three Days Later
Jack looked back and forth between Simmons and Kyser, watching the two men do their best to busy themselves with something else. The agent had gotten the tube taken out of his throat a couple hours ago. Since then, he'd been trying to get someone to tell him the truth about what happened, but they were sticking to their story. But, up until that point, he hadn't been able to get Simmons or Kyser alone. Now he had them both.
"Alright," the wounded man's voice was weak and scratchy, but it got their attention. "What really happened, guys? No bullshit; just tell me what went down."
"Don't know what you're talking about, Dalton," Simmons shrugged, turning to face him more, his face and body relaxed, giving nothing away. Kyser, on the other hand, looked down at the floor, his arms folded over his chest. "It happened the way Mac told it."
"That's bullshit, Simmons," Jack didn't hesitate to call his friend out, ignoring the pain in his throat, his pent-up frustration allowing him to block it out. "We both know it. Elliot and Drew wouldn't make Mac as scared as he clearly is. His story doesn't add up; if he'd had to fight his way out of anywhere, he would have had at least one bruise to show for it, and there's hardly a scratch on him. What the hell happened to my partner, guys? Someone needs to tell me; I can't protect him if I don't know."
"Even if there were something going on," Simmons sighed, "it's not like you're in much shape to protect anyone at the moment. You just got shot, Jack; let us worry about this for now. Take some time to heal."
"Fuck that," Jack growled irritably. "That kid is my responsibility, Simmons. I need to know what's going on."
"There's not some big conspiracy," Simmons insisted. "Mac is fine, Jack. We'll find Drew and Elliot. We will take care of this; just rest."
Jack glowered at him, realizing that he wasn't getting anywhere with him, then shifted his eyes to Kyser.
"Kyser," his voice cracked in the middle of the man's name. "Please. Tell me what's going on. The kid is terrified; he's not hiding that very well. He's clearly not sleeping much, he's jumping at the slightest sound, he's never relaxed...What happened to him? What the hell is going on that's so terrible that no one will tell me?"
The medic hesitated. He wanted to keep his promise to Mac, but he still wholeheartedly believed that Jack had every right to know. He also believed that Jack was, frankly, a much easier target the longer he was left out of the loop. So, with a sigh, the medic nodded.
"Kyser," Simmons warned, shooting him a glare.
"He needs to know, Grant," Kyser growled. Simmons hesitated, glancing between Jack and Kyser, then dipped his head, waving an arm in Jack's direction as if to tell Kyser to get on with it. The medic let out a weary sigh, grabbing a chair and pulling it closer to Jack's bedside, taking a seat as he tried to gather his thoughts.
"Most of what Mac told you was true," Kyser began. "The warehouse, why he was targeted, the fact that Drew was a pro...that was all true. But he didn't escape, Jack. Not on his own."
"So...what? You guys found him? Why would he lie about that?" Jack's brow furrowed in confusion.
"We never found him," Kyser shook his head. "We didn't even know where to look."
"Then what the hell happened?" Jack's confusion gave way to frustration.
"Drew and Elliot are both dead, Jack," Kyser told him, watching the frustration transform into shock. "They were going to kill Mac. He couldn't get away. He was likely going to die. But then...then Murdoc showed up."
"What?" the word barely made it past Jack's lips, and it was breathy and hard to decipher when he did, his voice all but failing him.
"Jack, just let me get through this," Kyser implored, and Jack's blood ran cold. Very few things could rattle the medic before him; he'd seen the man truly upset only a handful of times in the decade they'd known each other. Seeing him in such a state now...something truly awful must have happened. The former Delta gave a slight nod, and Kyser let out a breath before he continued.
"It turns out, Drew was part of the Collective," he explained. "Murdoc was hunting him down, and he came in, killed Elliot, and tased and drugged Drew. Then he dosed Mac with a muscle relaxant. The kid was essentially a prisoner in his own body. He couldn't move or speak, but he was fully aware of what was going on. Murdoc...he made Mac watch him torture Drew to death. It took all night. Murdoc left him when it was over, and Mac had to stay with the body until the drugs wore off. And through all that, Jack, he thought you were dead. Of course he's scared."
Jack felt sick to his stomach as he turned to stare up at the ceiling. No wonder the kid didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't really fault him for that. But something still wasn't sitting right with him, and he shook his head.
"No," he grumbled, catching Kyser's eye again, his voice straining and painful just to listen to. "No, that's not it. That's not all. That's awful and he would absolutely be scared, but the kid isn't just scared; he's utterly terrified. Murdoc has gotten away before and he has never been this scared. Something else went down, Kyser; tell me."
"Jack," Simmons began, his voice regretful and overly gentle, telling his friend that he was going to try and mislead him.
"Stop!" Jack snapped, his hoarse voice cracking, which only made his anger worse. "Stop bullshitting me, Simmons; tell me what is going on!"
"Grant, he really should know," Kyser chimed in.
"We promised Mac, and he doesn't need to know it right now," Simmons snapped at him, knowing there was no point in denying something was up anymore. "I don't like it either, but what would be the point, anyway? There's nothing he can do about it, it's just going to upset him more, and you should know better than I do that that'll just make his recovery take longer. Isn't it better for him to be able to relax and heal faster so that he can do something?"
"If it were you, you'd want to know," Kyser growled.
"Yeah but it doesn't mean I should know!" Simmons shot back. "Besides, Matty agrees with Mac."
"Guys, I am right here," Jack reminded them irritably. "And Simmons, either someone tells me what the hell is going on, or I will check myself out against medical advice and go home right now, no Phoenix protection."
"Jack, come on; that's a little extreme," Simmons rolled his eyes. "You can barely sit up, and that would mean you'd be off your painkillers."
"Yeah?" Jack raised an eyebrow and locked eyes with the younger man. "Try me."
Kyser and Simmons looked at each other, a conversation passing between them. Finally, Simmons dipped his head in acceptance, and Kyser turned to Jack.
"You've got to promise not to freak out, Jack," Kyser warned. "And try to remember that everyone was just trying to protect you."
Jack fought the urge to scoff; it was his job to protect them, and it was a job he took seriously. He couldn't help but be a little offended that they thought he couldn't do his job, regardless of the circumstances. Finally, he nodded in agreement.
"Okay," Kyser sighed. He cleared his throat and resettled in his seat, gathering his thoughts.
"Murdoc...when Drew was dead, he told Mac that he was going to come after everyone he cared about—you, Matty, Bozer, Riley, and Mac himself—and torture them the same way he tortured Drew," the medic explained.
"And that way would be...?" Jack's jaw tightened at his words.
"With his worst fear," Kyser replied. "Mac avoided a lot of the details, Jack, but the scene was bad. For your sake and the sake of the lunch I just ate, I'm not going to tell you what was found, but...it was bad. Trust me on that."
Jack swallowed hard, then turned towards Simmons in anger.
"And you didn't think that was something I should know?" he demanded furiously. "He could come after any of us—including me—at any moment, and that wasn't something you thought I'd need to know?"
"It's absolutely something you need to know," Simmons countered. "When you're in a position to do anything about it. Until then, what's the point of being stressed? Matty is taking care of you guys; this whole floor is secure, and Mac, Riley, and Bozer aren't going anywhere without at least two tac team members. There's no reason to freak out, Jack; we've got this."
"No reason to freak out?" Jack's broken voice was rising in volume as his heart began to pick up speed. "That maniac is coming after me and my family and there's no reason to freak out?!"
"Jack, you need to calm down," Kyser cautioned. His words seemed to make something snap inside the wounded man; he lashed out, knocking everything off of the tray positioned in front of him and rounding on the medic.
"Do not tell me to calm down, Kyser," Jack snapped, instantly regretting the movement but hiding the pain on his face. "You should have told me. I deserved to know."
Before either man could say anything, the door opened, revealing a very concerned-looking Mac. The younger agent looked at the three of them, and his jaw twitched.
"You told him," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"He needed to know," Kyser shrugged helplessly.
"Enough," Jack interrupted before they could say anything else, still clearly furious. He pointed at Kyser and Simmons. "You two, out; Mac, we need to talk."
Mac dipped his head, swallowing hard, and slowly made his way into the room, scratching his chest through the fabric of his t-shirt until Kyser came by and smacked his hand.
"Quit scratching it," he ordered sternly, a finger in the younger man's face. Mac held his hands up in surrender, clasping them behind his back to prove a point. Kyser gave him a look, then he and Simmons exited the room, closing the door behind them and leaving the partners alone. Mac slowly made his way over to Jack's side, lowering himself into the chair Kyser had vacated, looking down and rubbing his hands together nervously.
"You should have told me," Jack stated firmly, his voice straining and anger in his expression. "I thought we agreed, no more secrets. Hell, we agreed to that the last time Murdoc got his hands on you. I needed to know, Mac; you had no right to keep this from me."
"I was trying to protect you, Jack," Mac offered lamely.
"Keeping me in the dark about this does not protect me!" Jack snapped, starting to regret knocking his water away. "If anything, it makes me more vulnerable! You had no right, Mac. None. What on Earth made you think differently?"
"You almost died, Jack," Mac growled quietly, the desperation and fear in his glistening eyes making Jack settle back on his bed, concern mingling with the anger in his expression. "And this time was different. I thought you were dead. The last thing I saw before I passed out was you on the ground, bleeding out, obviously hit in the lung, with Drew's gun aimed at your chest. That stretch of road is rarely traveled at night. Elliot told me you were dead. Murdoc told me you were dead. Drew practically told me you were dead. You were dead, Jack."
Mac's voice broke when he said those words, and he wiped at his leaking eyes and cleared his throat before he continued. "As far as I knew, as far as any logic could tell me, you were gone. And I was alone. But then I found out you were alive. I know you, Jack; at the very mention of Murdoc you would have been out of here, trying to track him down, and you needed to rest. You needed to heal. You still do. Murdoc is not coming after you first, so there was no reason to get you worked up about it. I need you, Jack. I need you with me on this, and I need you at a hundred percent. We all do. You obsessing over what happened to me, worrying about when Murdoc's going to kick off his little game, pushing yourself to be ready before you really are, was not going to do you any favors, and we both know that's exactly what you would have done. I wasn't going to keep you out of the loop forever, Jack; just until you got out of here. I'm sorry. I really am. You think I enjoyed lying to you? I didn't. But I think you're going to have to accept the fact that we want to protect you just as badly as you want to protect us."
Jack stared at him for a long time, processing what he'd said. He was still mad. That much, he was sure of. But was he still mad at Mac? That wasn't as clear. Finally, the former Delta looked down and nodded, swallowing hard.
"Okay," he said at last. "Okay, here's the deal: I don't hold this against you, Mac. I don't. I know you were only doing what you thought was best for me, and honestly, if we're gonna go up against Murdoc again, we can't be fighting each other, too."
Mac let out a slow, shaky breath, relief flooding his expression as he blinked back tears.
"But," Jack continued, catching and keeping his partner's eyes. "No more lies, brother. We can't do this if we're lying to each other. We start lying to each other and he'll tear us apart, and the only way we're gonna get through this is together. Deal?"
"Deal," Mac agreed readily.
"Good," Jack nodded. "Then, in that case, any details you may have are gonna be important, Mac. I know you don't want to relive what happened, man—I don't want that for you, either—but you're going to have to, okay?"
Mac hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his chair before nodding.
"Good," Jack said again, giving his partner an encouraging and reassuring smile. "Then tell me everything."
So...yeah. This is a thing we're doing. It's gonna get crazy and intense, the way we've plotted it. Also, each exam is gonna be its own story. Hope you guys are down for the ride! Let me know what you think!
PS: No, I have not given up on the other story of mine. My brain just wouldn't shut up about this one.
