A/N - Happy Birthday, Gib! It's now a tradition for me to whump Jack for Gib's birthday. This was going to be a single chapter one shot, but it's kind of gotten away from me. I'm super busy with a blog challenge we call The Twelve Days of Fic-mas, so I couldn't come up with more than one chapter in time for the big day. But here is the start. In it I take a walk through a couple of scenarios I've mentioned in other stories that are part of my personal headcanon for the guys. I hope everyone enjoys, but above all, I hope this helps Gib have a happy birthday!

"How's it lookin' down there, pal?"

"About the same as it was when you asked me two minutes ago, Jack," Mac called up to his partner, sounding only about a third as exasperated as he felt.

"I'm just checkin'," Jack said defensively. "Last time you got all tight lipped like this you got your damned self blown up," he observed. Not that Mac had actually been responsible for that. It was an RPG, after all. But the point was he had been being defensively quiet like this right before it happened.

"And a merry freaking Christmas it was," Mac returned with a wry chuckle.

"Well then, you can see why I feel the need to get after you. Mac gets quiet, shit blows up."

"Congratulations on another epic example of post hoc ergo proctor hoc, buddy."

"Did you just swear at me in German or somethin'?" Jack asked indignantly.

Mac laughed. "I'll leave swearing in languages I'm not yet fluent in to you. That's Latin. And it's a logical fallacy based on an assumption that because one thing happened the thing that happened next was caused by it. Kind of like a false syllogism."

Jack's face appeared above the hole in the floor where Mac was crouched again. Mac knew because the man's shadow fell over his work space. "Huh?"

Mac waved him off. "Get out of my light!" He adjusted something on the device. "Logical fallacies … you know, arguments that aren't really arguments at all. Think … like the stuff you see on C-SPAN when Congress is debating something."

"Dude, you're the only guy I've ever met who actually watches that shit. And my arguments are real!"

"Occasionally," he smirked. "My favorite fallacy of yours is Petitio principii."

"There you go cussin' at me again."

Mac snickered and shook his head. "It sort of means circular argument … more or less." He thought about explaining it more fully, but reasoned that the explanation was likely to trigger Jack giving him an excellent example. And quite frankly it had been a long damned day. He was tired, hot, stiff, and starting to get a real pisser of a headache. And they still had two or three calls left to check out. Besides … he thought maybe … yep, that ought to do it … And … "Clear," he called out, closing up his pocket knife and dropping it back into one of the pockets on his tac vest.

"Yes!"

Mac accurately pictured the accompanying Jack fist pump. Then the shadow fell over him again as Jack leaned back over the opening to this dusty crawl space and reached a hand down to help his partner up.

"Now we can get outta here!"

Mac groaned as he got up. He'd spent the last ten or so hours crouched in various cramped spaces around the town and every one of his muscles and joints were pointing out that they didn't care if he was only twenty-two, the human body didn't appreciate that kind of abuse in any decade.

"We've still got at least that place up the street unless Reynolds cleared it. And then, wasn't there a barn over that way?" He waved vaguely to the south as he stretched up his hand to grab the one Jack offered as leverage.

Jack hauled him up out of the glorified hole in the ground. "Aw, Hell. I forgot about that."

He looked around, making sure the area was still clear. As they walked over to their humvee, Mac glanced at his watch. The face was cracked but he squinted and guessed, "It's about fourteen hundred now … We should probably just head up the street. We can radio Reynolds on the way. We might actually hit everything before dark."

"You need a new watch, kid. It's almost sixteen hundred and we've got an hour of decent light. Tops."

Mac opened the door and climbed in. "Guess we better haul ass then."

Jack climbed in to drive, grabbing a water out of the console and passing it to Mac. He started them rolling along as Mac chugged the water and reached in for a second one. "You want a protein bar or somethin', Mac?"

Mac was too busy guzzling more water to answer verbally, but he shook his head.

"You sure?"

Mac put down the second empty water bottle. "I'm too tired."

"Too tired to eat?"

Mac shrugged. "Yeah, kinda. What's it to you anyways?"

"I'm your Overwatch and …"

"Nope. Don't start that again. Your job is to keep some jihadist from putting a bullet in me while I work, not make sure I floss or whatever, and definitely not to try to feed me like you're a little Italian grandmother."

"Well, then, I'm your partner, and that means I look out for you in general, brother, just like you look out for me. We take care of each other and we make sure the other is takin' care of themselves."

Mac huffed a sigh. "Alright. But I can't do chocolate covered cardboard right now. When we get back to the FOB, I'll grab an MRE, so long as they got in something other than those enchiladas, man. I just can't face another one."

Jack chuckled. "I've got some jerky in my gear under my bed and I might have a couple Gatorade powders if you wanna skip it."

"What kind?"

"Teriyaki I think," he shrugged.

"Not the jerky. The Gatorade."

"Still thirsty?"

"Usually," he said ruefully. "I don't think I'm ever gonna stop tasting moon dust."

"Know what you mean, kid. I think it's the lemon lime stuff."

Mac wrinkled his nose. But he always used the drink mix as soon as it got issued so he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. He half listened, half dozed while Jack radioed ahead, found out that another tech from their unit was already at the spot up the street that had been called in, and let their dispatch know they were en route to the barn that'd been reported as suspicious.

He was so tired. He honestly couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd slept well. He couldn't even blame any past loss or upheaval either. He'd just always been a restless sort of person, even as a little kid. One thing this deployment had done for him, he supposed, was it had taught him to just be still and rest when the job allowed it, even if he couldn't really sleep. Jack was good for reinforcing that lesson. The man was a celebrated napper.

It took a while to get across town and the rocking of the truck combined with Jack's tangential chatter lulled Mac from dozing to almost fully asleep. If he'd thought much about it, he wouldn't have been surprised that his dreams took him back several months to Christmas here with Jack as his Overwatch. They'd been talking about it earlier, and in retrospect, the day was pretty similar, with too many reports, too little rest, and a last push as the dark was chasing them back to the FOB. Jack might have even been talking about it again in the truck as they traveled to their (hopefully) last destination of the evening before they could head in.

But Mac had tuned him out and given into his body's demand for sleep.

"I'll drive, Jack," he offered, noticing how Jack was wearing a headachy sort of squint.

While Mac had been in the shade of the alley disarming a fairly complicated series of IEDs all afternoon, Jack had been perched on the roof across the street in the sun. It wasn't hot. Hell, it was about twenty degrees colder here that it was in California at this time of year. Mac had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering a couple of times while he worked. He figured in the shade it had been maybe 38 degrees. But cold or not, the sun was blazing overhead, and Mac figured Jack must be practically sun blind by now. And there'd been a lot of activity in the town, shouting, armed men moving around. That always stressed Jack out, even when the activity or people in question gave them a wide berth.

"Nah, kid, that's alright. You must be wiped."

Mac shrugged. "We're gonna be driving right into the sunset. I'm not the one nursing a migraine, so maybe since your job is actually to keep us alive a better way to do that would be admitting I'm the better choice for behind the wheel. "

Jack laughed. "You are kind of a manipulative little shit, you know it?"

"It's not manipulation if it's just logic, Dalton."

Jack grinned and nodded, walking around the vehicle and climbing in the passenger side. "I'm gonna give up before my headache gets any worse. I haven't got any aspirin on me."

Mac went through his pockets, but when he came up empty, he dug around in the kit behind the driver's seat. As he got behind the wheel, he tossed a little packet at Jack. "Ibuprofen."

"Thanks, kid."

Mac knew he'd made the right decision to drive when Jack wasn't talking his ear off as they headed out of town in the gathering darkness. He didn't even immediately grab the radio to call in. So Mac did.

The voice on the other end was new, sounded nervous. Mac flashed Jack a quick amused grin. Everybody knows a newbie when they hear one. Charlie had told Mac when they first met that one of the reasons he kept getting in up to his eyeballs on big jobs he wasn't sure he was ready for was that he didn't ever sound nearly as green as he was.

Jack grinned back but it reformed itself into a frown almost immediately when the voice informed them that another team was having transport trouble and the guys that'd stopped to help couldn't get the vehicle operational and didn't have room to take them on. Mac asked for the location and agreed to assist on their way out. Jack didn't like it. A single truck was a hell of a lot less likely to draw enemy interest or fire than on convoy.

They drove toward the other team in silence for a few minutes. Mac glanced at Jack and cleared his throat. "What wrong, Jack?"

"I don't like it when we group up like this … not with the way things have been and …"

Mac shook his head and interrupted. "You've been all quiet and … not Jack-like … for a while now. Way before we got asked to render aid, man. What gives?"

Jack got even more quiet and still. Then he sighed. "Dude, Christmas is in like what? three days? Just … this place always sucks but … It's Christmas," was all he seemed able to come up with.

Mac hadn't really thought much about the holiday. "I forgot. I'm sorry, man. I know you've got family back home. It must be hard."

Jack gave him a hard look then. "Forgot Christmas? You don't ever forget any damned thing. How'd you forget missing Christmas with your family, kid?"

Mac shrugged, eyes on the road ahead. "I don't know. It's been busy around here. I haven't heard from anyone in a couple weeks …"

"You miss walking right past the fake tree in the Mess everyday?"

Mac laughed, but Jack thought it had a forced, almost annoyed sound. "By the time I ever get in there all I'm ever thinking about is what's for dinner and hoping like hell they have something other than yellow Gatorade left to drink."

Jack would have pushed the conversation further, but they pulled up next to two other trucks, one with the hood up, with four guys standing around in the fading light, looking a combination of a little worried and a lot pissed off. Mac got out first. "Jesus, Ortiz, you bust this thing again? Somebody oughta take away your driving privileges."

"You're a funny guy, Mac," the other man observed ruefully. "Just do me a favor and tell me you brought that shiny knife and maybe some of your paper clips to bail our asses out while you're being funny."

Mac was already looking under the hood. "I see the problem," he said, and got to work.

It was full dark when they got back on the road, and even though Jack insisted his head was fine, Mac insisted on driving the rest of the way in. "You've been yawking like it's your job," had been his justification, but really … and he wasn't going to say this out loud to Jack … he had a bad feeling about the night. Just … his spidey senses were tingling, he supposed. Which was why he wasn't going to say anything to Jack. Carl's Junior was a bad enough nickname, he didn't need Spidey, or Parker, or whatever the hell else the guys would think was funny, getting added to his list.

The lights from the base were visible on the horizon when their small convoy slowed to a crawl. Ortiz, who was driving the lead vehicle just in case anything happened to it again so no one would miss the problem, had almost come to a halt. "Wonder what he sees?" Jack said, starting to reach for his weapon on the seat next to him.

A second later the flare of an RPG was just visible, right before it blew the lead truck right off the road. Both men, swore, and Mac slammed on the brakes. They were scrambling to get out, to find cover, when the second the explosives hit the next truck. Jack had completely cleared the vehicle when the third RPG hit, but Mac hadn't. He was thrown, in what direction he didn't know, and it seemed like fire was all around him, right before everything went dark.

Mac gasped, and sat back up. He rubbed both hands over his face, breathing deeply to both orient himself and calm down, as well as assuage the immediate concern on his partner's face. "You okay, Mac?"

Mac shivered at the similarity to his question to Jack in his all too accurate dream. Then he forced himself to look Jack's way and smirk. "Dozing off while you're driving is enough to give anybody nightmares."

"Very funny, Carl's Junior." Jack pulled the truck up next to the barn and got out, immediately checking in with the scouting team that had reported a possible IED.

Mac got out and listened for a minute before just heading inside and getting to work. He knew it was dark out by the time he finished because Jack had needed to set up their portable light before he'd been there twenty minutes, and the temperature had dropped pretty significantly in the hour or so it took to clear the place. He could easily see his breath.

"Clear!" he called out loudly so Jack, who was guarding the door and keeping an eye on the street, would hear him and not be worried when he heard movement.

He found the scout team had waited for them to finish, thinking it would be safer to head back to base together. When he asked why, Jack cocked an eyebrow at him and said, "Cause my spidey senses are tingling."

Mac shivered again. He really hated it when Jack's superstitious side crept in and made him nervous, too. "I'll drive," Mac offered. "You had to pace around all day. You must be beat."

"Like hell, kid," Jack replied, as the other guys passed by in their own truck, going slowly so their team could keep up. "You're squinting like your head is trying to come off."

Mac frowned.

"Seriously, kid. You okay?"

"I … yeah." He got in on the passenger side, thinking maybe he really did need to get a proper sleep to be effective. He was getting as paranoid and crotchety as the old man.

Unusually for him, Mac chattered along for most of the trip home. Jack kept casting curious glances in his direction, but just held his own, as much as he could, in the odd, rambling conversation. They were nearly back to base, probably twenty minutes out, when he finally couldn't stand it anymore. "What the hell is eatin' you, kid?" Mac looked confused. "You've been talkin' my ear off for the last half hour."

Mac looked out the window, the lights of the truck ahead almost dim in the distance and the base nowhere in sight yet. "I … I was dreaming about Christmas … and I don't know … Today is just weirdly ...Similar, I guess."

Jack was about to say Mac was jumping at shadows, picking up on Overwatch worthy habits when they both swore as they saw a flash ahead. Jack wasn't sure whatever the explosive was had hit the other guys' truck, but he rolled his eyes as he started to undo his harness, and did what he always did when things got weird or went sideways. He quoted Die Hard. "How can the same shit happen to the same guy twice?"

Mac was about to point out that was a Die Hard 2 quote and they'd agreed the sequel was off limits for conversational purposes, but before he could open his mouth, their truck was struck with what felt like a freight train, and the world was tumbling end over end, for what felt like forever.