AN: Obviously, spoilers for 2.14, Mardi Gras Beads + Chair. This picks up about a minute after the ep ends.
CHEZ DALTON
LA
'…You really must have left some brain cells in that box, Dalton!' Jack winced, pulling his phone away from his ear, as Matty yelled at him. The Hun was definitely not happy. 'I thought you had enough sense to keep an eye on her!'
'Well, Matty, I promise, I had both eyes on her. Couldn't really look away, actually-'
'Dalton!' Jack winced again as her voice went up at least ten decibels, pulling the phone even further away from his ear and cowering, alone, in his own house in his boxers. 'You and I both know that leopards don't change their spots overnight-'
'Actually, the saying's leopards don't change their spots, full-stop. Which I guess don't sound so good-'
'Oh, excuse me, I thought I was talking to Jack Wyatt Dalton, not Blondie!' Jack wisely decided, then and there, to just let Matty say her piece without any interruptions. 'You are a highly trained and extremely skilled covert operative. You weren't supposed to let your guard down so quickly, you were supposed to keep an eye on her and help her stay on the straight and narrow!'
Jack sighed, sitting down on his couch and running a hand through his hair.
'I know, Matty.' He sighed again, swallowing and staring at the spot on the wall where his TV had been, voice growing quieter, sadder and a touch guilty. More vulnerable. 'I know.'
Matty was silent for a moment, before continuing, her voice slightly less angry than it had been a moment ago.
(Only slightly.)
'I have a fire to put out. The CIA is not happy. I'm revoking your three days' grace for nearly being barbecued alive, Dalton. Get your ass to the Phoenix, you've got action report reviews to read and a lot of reports to amend, plus a very long and extremely thorough and difficult class on writing proper reports to take.' She paused. 'You'd better pass.'
Jack nodded, even though he knew Matty couldn't see it.
'Yes, ma'am.'
There was a click as Matty hung up, and then he sighed again and went into his room to get dressed, shoving the note Dawn (if that was actually her real name…) had left into his bedside table's drawer.
The paperwork and the lecture (read: ass-whooping) and the doubtlessly-hard exam he was going to have to go through weren't a true punishment, not really, he knew.
It was really a slap on the wrist.
If Matty had really wanted to punish him, it would be much, much worse.
He knew that.
Which meant that Matty, in her own way, was saying that she understood why he'd been, in hindsight, foolishly blind. Why he'd had that (long) moment of weakness.
Matty the Hun was terrifying.
But she wasn't cruel.
And she was very much human.
(And she knew that it was that much harder to find a meaningful connection, to build a meaningful connection, with their line of work and the secrets and sacrifices it required.)
JACK'S CAR
ON-ROUTE TO PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…We just, you know, connected.' Jack shrugged. 'She had that special something. We had that special something.'
He glanced at his partner, who was sitting in the front seat, hands still red and lightly bandaged. Mac had asked Jack to swing by and pick him up so he could go into the Phoenix to do something in the labs when he'd heard Jack had to go in, which he understood for what it really was.
(Mac wasn't up to doing work in the labs; Sparky would have to be his hands, and the robot's lower-than-human dexterity frustrated the blonde no end.)
(He was trying to improve it, but it was proving to be a huge challenge.)
Mac was really offering to keep Jack company, and not really because of the tedium of paperwork.
The blonde nodded, something very understanding in his eyes.
'Yeah.'
Jack sighed again as he made a left turn.
'And then she robbed me and skipped town, pissing off the CIA and breaking her deal.' He gave a snort, smiling all the same, something sad and affectionate appearing in his eyes. 'Left my dad's dog tags, though. She ain't a monster.' He glanced over at Mac again, shaking his head. 'I don't even know how or what to feel about her, man. You know what I mean?'
Mac gave a rather bitter snort of laughter, nodding.
'Oh, I get that.'
Jack gave a sad little smile.
'Yeah, brother, yeah.' He sighed again, face falling. 'I dunno, man, I just…I just think, if we'd met under different circumstances, at a different time, maybe…'
He trailed off and shrugged.
Mac smiled sadly, his bandaged fingers moving in a way that told Jack he was absolutely itching to deform a paperclip.
'My grandfather always said that finding the right one always came down to meeting the right person at the right time under the right circumstances.'
There was something sad in Mac's voice. Jack had a sneaking suspicion that if his partner could re-shape a paperclip right then, it'd be taking the shape of an ice-cream cone.
'If Sarah and I'd re-encountered each other before she met Jeff. Or if I'd met Dawn before she got herself in so deep she couldn't straighten out…' Jack glanced over at the younger man, hesitating a moment before speaking, voice gentling and softening as he looked back at the road. 'If you'd met Zoe at some museum exhibit while ogling a display about ice on Uranus or wherever you nerds meet other nerds…'
Jack glanced back over at Mac, who had something soft and sad and wistful in his eyes, with a matching little smile on his face.
'Uranus, while classified an ice giant, is more technically largely composed of water-ammonia supercritical fluid.'
With a snort, Jack shook his head.
'See, nerds.'
They were silent for a moment, before, as they pulled into the Phoenix parking lot, Mac glanced over at his partner, concern in his eyes.
'Dawn…Dawn made her choice, Jack. We gave her a chance to go straight, you gave her a chance, and…she made her choice and it wasn't…'
Mac's voice fell away, and he gave an awkward, sorry little shrug. Jack sighed as he pulled into a parking space, voice suddenly, startlingly, rough with emotion.
'And it wasn't me.'
He took the key out of the ignition, and Mac reached out and, very gently (his hands were still sore), laid a hand on Jack's shoulder.
'I'm sorry.'
There was a moment's silence, then Jack sighed, and Mac withdrew his hand.
'All about the choices we make, ain't it?' He ran a hand though his hair. 'If I'd told Sarah how I felt. If I hadn't walked out on Diane and Ri that night.' He pointed at Mac, trying it bring a little levity into their conversation. 'If you hadn't left MIT, you and Frankie would probably be mad-science-ing with non-cherry Jello and raising some kiddo called Mobius who could read by the time he was one and a half.'
Mac made a face.
'Mobius? My name is Angus; you really think I'd let my kid be called Mobius?' He shook his head. 'Besides, she's out of my league.' Jack looked very sceptical at that, which Mac ignored (his partner just didn't completely understand how incredible Frankie was). Instead, he reached out and put a hand on Jack's shoulder again. 'And…I've got my regrets, but I'm happy with the path I chose.'
Jack stared right back into his eyes for a moment, something very soft and fond and happy and loving there, then smiled.
'Me too, son, me too.' Then, he smirked as they got out of the car, falling back into that banter that kept them upbeat in the face of near-death, that banter that kept them sane and remarkably mentally healthy, despite their line of work. 'After all, if you hadn't decided to drop out of school and nearly get your skinny butt bullet-ridden on a twice-weekly basis, you'd never have gotten to experience my musical genius!'
'What, that dying-cat-screech you call singing?'
'Excuse me! Who was the one who caused such a ruckus at an open-mic night 'cause he was so dreadful that I managed to punch a guy in the jaw, cuff him and drag him into the van without anyone noticing?'
'We promised to never talk about Cincinnati again!'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…Good news, Dalton. One of those fires under your ass isn't as big as I thought it'd be.' Matty strode into the war room, where Jack was pouring over paperwork, several huge stacks of files beside him, while Mac ate a sandwich without using his hands. (He'd constructed a device using takeaway chopsticks, a bull clip and a couple of paperclips, using the two more-healed fingers on his right hand and his mouth, that was attached to the coffee table and held the sandwich up at mouth level.) Matty stopped and stared at Mac, who just smiled sheepishly around his mouthful of sandwich and waved, then shook her head in a way that was almost fond and ignored him, turning back to Jack. 'Dawn left the CIA a dossier on improving their cover IDs and promised to stay out of their way. They're willing to accept that as her fulfilling her end of the deal.'
There was something in her voice that suggested she might have done a little persuading.
Jack gave Matty a grateful little nod, which she acknowledged with a little nod of her own, before putting her hands on her hips, gesturing to the files with her head.
'Now back to work, Dalton! You've barely made a dent in the first third of the reports!' Jack paled, glancing at the huge stacks which already seemed insurmountable, as Mac snickered and took another bite of his sandwich. Matty rounded on the blonde. 'And you, Baby Einstein!' She gestured to his hands-free sandwich-eating device. 'That better not leave a mark on the coffee table! And you'd better clean up any crumbs!'
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
Sitting on the deck, sipping beer from the bottle resting beside him on the deck through an extremely-long home-made crazy straw, Mac watched as Bozer and Riley grilled burgers on the other side of the deck, Bozer telling Riley every last one of his tricks, even the ones that he considered 'trade secrets' or 'Bozer family secrets'.
He was, admittedly, not the best at social interactions. He wasn't the best at reading social cues and behaviour.
He was, obviously, definitely not Cage.
Nowhere near.
But Mac knew his best friend. And he knew Riley.
And he wasn't blind.
He couldn't miss those little looks and secret smiles that said that they both knew something that the others didn't, that new closeness that they'd had ever since he, Jack and Matty had returned from New Orleans.
He was glad of that.
It was really hard to meet someone, to find someone, when they lived the lives they lived.
And he was glad that Bozer was letting go of Leanna. He understood pining over someone you couldn't have and not being able to let go of your feelings for them, but there was a point where it became really unhealthy.
I know, I know, I've crossed that line myself.
But I've never claimed that I'm not a hypocrite.
He sighed internally, telling that tiny little voice in his head that was jealous of Bozer and Riley's seemingly developing and evolving relationship, jealous of that special connection that seemed to be building, instead of being happy and delighted about it, like the rest of him was, to shut up.
I meant it and I was telling the truth when I told Jack that my continued single state is not due to lack of trying.
I have been trying.
In the last year, I've had stretches where I've had no inclination to date whatsoever, which shouldn't be surprising. But I've been on a few dates, and I've tried very hard – and I think I've mostly succeeded – to not be unfair to my date or to myself by drawing comparisons. I've tried very hard to build meaningful connections.
But it's hard. Really hard.
A, there's my job to consider. There's only so many times you can reschedule a date before it just winds up never happening.
B, sometimes, you can try, but there's just no connection to be had. There just isn't that special something.
I don't think that that special something will happen if you just try hard enough. I think it's just a factor that has to be there. Jack was right about that.
It all comes down to the fact that I haven't met the right person at the right time under the right circumstances.
That's only three requirements. It sounds simple.
But I've realized that they're a lot harder to fulfil and a lot more complex than fifteen-year-old me thought.
Jack walked back out onto the deck, four bottles of opened, cold beer from the fridge in his hands. He dropped two off for Bozer and Riley by the grill, then sat down next to Mac and swapped out the emptied bottle resting beside him, inserting the crazy straw into a new bottle.
'Thanks, Jack.'
Jack smiled back at him, raising his own beer in a silent toast, then taking a healthy swig. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, staring at the fire, before the older man broke it, after taking another swig of beer.
'Have we got really great or really terrible taste in women, son?'
Mac snorted and shrugged, a note of bitterness in that laugh.
'Honestly, I have absolutely no idea.'
Jack glanced down at the bottle of beer in his hands.
'Well, least we got great taste in beer.' He looked up and gestured over to the grill, from which delicious smells were emanating. 'And burgers.'
Mac smiled, glancing at the older man.
'And friends.'
Jack smiled too, and clinked his beer bottle to Mac's on the deck.
'I'll drink to that, brother. I'll drink to that.'
AN: Did you guys like that? This wasn't supposed to be so long…it just mushroomed! Hopefully no complaints? I just had so many poor-Mac, poor-Jack, why-are-your-love-lives-so-depressing? feels after that ep, so…this happened.
As for what's going on with Bozer/Riley at the end there – being probably even worse with social interactions and cues than Mac, I have no idea if the show is trying to run with Bozer-and-Riley-are-now-going-to-be-just-friends-only or endgame-Bozer/Riley. However, I thought that it'd make sense for the fact that they are now keeping and sharing a secret and are just that little bit closer to be misinterpreted by Mac.
My thoughts on 2.14, Mardi Gras Beads + Chair, can be found at the end of the latest chapter of The Stone-Hearted Queen if you're interested.
As for no episode next week – I'm sad, of course, but it's probably a good thing, in the end; next weekend is Australia Day weekend, so I'll probably be busy, possibly too busy to be watching what surely has to be a really good and plot-heavy ep!