You're Killin' Me, Smalls

For Gib

Happy birthday!

A/N - Gib came up with a head cannon a while ago that our favorite Delta is a ginormous baby about needles, and we've all kind of run with it. Given irrational, superstitious, easily upset Jack, it makes perfect sense. For her birthday, she wanted an action-oriented story that explained why (which I sort of did) and whumped the hell out of him. Hope this covers the bases!

Also, thanks to 302Pilot, fanotheboyz, and Dlwells51 for giving this a beta read for me! You guys rock.

"C'mon, Jack, it's not much further," Mac encouraged as they ran, or tried to run, over the wet, uneven ground, dodging creeping vines, and hanging branches, and a least a few dangling snakes here and there.

"You said that … at least five miles ago," Jack groaned, doing his best to keep up with his young and (he didn't want to point it out, but he was starting to get grumpy with Mac's version of gentle encouragement) completely uninjured, partner.

"Try about five hundred yards," Mac revised for him, more because at this point in their relationship he was on autopilot about trying to mitigate Jack's overly dramatic tendencies. "We're almost to exfil, pal."

"Okay, okay," he panted. "I'm workin' on it."

"Here," Mac offered a hand. "That's gotta hurt."

Jack gave him a look. "It don't feel good, for sure."

Mac shook his head, pursing his lips. He wasn't sure he should say anything, but he figured the longer Jack had to wrap his head around it, the better. "That bat didn't look so great, Jack."

"That was not a bat!" Jack widened his eyes at Mac. Jack normally appreciated Mac's ability to stay rational in difficult situations, but right now, he wasn't in the mood for it. Struggling up the steep grade over muddy ground, beat to hell, and now bleeding, too, felt like a far cry from a rational situation to Jack. "That was a bona fide movie monster!"

Mac shook his head again and braced his arm to haul Jack up the little hill. "It was a fox bat … And it was either sick or injured … Or both."

"It attacked me!" Jack was getting indignant. "Like somethin' out of Dracula!"

If he didn't feel so badly for Jack, Mac would have laughed. For a full-fledged trained badass, Jack could be so theatrical. Of course, he was probably going to get even touchier pretty soon, Mac thought. He'd better do what he could to at least tamp down on some of that adrenaline-inducing inner monologue now.

"Jack, you stumbled into it in the bushes. You scared it, so it defended itself. Unfortunately for you, in doing so it took a pretty good chunk out of your calf."

Jack didn't reply. Mac turned and gave him another hand up a steep, slippery slope, bracing his other hand on a sapling, and feeling it bend with their combined weight.

Jack was starting to really drag. It wasn't unexpected; he'd taken on six of Raihanna's men on his own while Mac broke into the offices on the compound and downloaded the entirety of the crime lord's hard drive. The zip was tucked safely away in his bag.

Ending a ring of Pacific Rim drug and human trafficking that spanned four countries was a worthwhile mission by anybody's measure, but it had definitely gotten Jack a little banged up. And fleeing the remaining guards through the rainforest to their initial exfil sight was going to wind up costing Jack more than the need for a couple of icepacks.

"How you doin', pal?" Mac asked with real concern as they finally made it into the clearing where the helicopter that would take them to the airport in Kuala Lampur and a Phoenix jet was waiting.

Jack managed a wry smile to cover up some of the slight panic he was feeling. He knew he wasn't seriously injured, just something told him it was bad news, mostly because he couldn't figure out why he was feeling it at all. His brain did that to him sometimes in a weird self-protective mechanism he'd had since he was a kid.

"You mean other than being able to feel my canines getting longer and a serious craving for a rare steak?" Jack returned, trying to sound entirely like he was joking, and not quite getting there.

Since they were less than a twenty-minute jump from their official Phoenix exfil, Mac felt like he could answer with a teasing joke of his own, and hopefully ease some of Jack's tension, distract him a little from his injuries.

"Vampires don't eat steak, Jack. Since you don't even like V8 because you think it looks, and I quote, 'hella gross', I'm pretty sure you're not gonna turn into a blood sucking fiend any time soon."

They were boarding the helicopter when Jack admitted, "Seriously though, man … I'm getting' a little freaked out."

"I couldn't tell!" Mac called out sarcastically over the sound of the rotors gearing up.

"Laugh it up, genius. I'm gonna drink you first. That was definitely a horror bat!"

They strapped in and donned the headsets that would put them back in touch with Phoenix. They'd had to ditch their phones and comms and go in dark to avoid some surprisingly sophisticated tech scans that Raihanna had operating. It had seemed oddly out of place in the middle of the rainforest, but it's strangeness hadn't made it less effective.

Hoping it would make Jack laugh, because once you got him to laugh he had a hard time keeping up the mental loops he'd get himself into when he was upset, Mac grinned and said, "They don't call them pteropus vampyrus for nothing."

"What!?" Jack practically shouted, making Mac flinch from the volume directed right into his ears.

"Why are we talking about vampires?" Matty's dry voice joined them over their headsets.

"Because I got myself a full-on monster bite, that's why!" Jack explained, going just a little paler.

"Alright, Blondie, what's Captain Crazy-pants going on about this time?"

Mac shook his head, hoping Matty wouldn't use this as an opportunity for more of her usual ball-busting. Jack didn't need that. "He got into a territorial disagreement with a flying fox. It bit him in the leg and scratched his hands and arms up a little."

There was a moment of silence. "Okay, Science Guy, what the hell is a flying fox?"

"I keep telling you guys that's trademarked," he sighed. "It's a type of bat that's common to the area," he answered in his most matter-of-fact tone.

"A bat? That's what rattled your cage so badly, Jack?" Matty asked, sounding almost incredulous.

"Matty, I'm not even kiddin', that thing was the size of a fifth grader."

"How big was it really, Mac? Like a rat? A squirrel?"

"Um, no … Maybe not a fifth grader, but he's not exaggerating all that much. It was like a toddler, at least. A very big bat," Mac replied, as the ground slipped by beneath them, putting his hand on Jack's shoulder to let him know he was done teasing, and was taking his friend's feelings seriously.

Mac was too compassionate a person to give Jack too much shit right now, even if Jack had admitted, more than once, to enjoying giving Mac a hard time. Mac just wrote it off as part of Jack's big brother instincts.

"And it appeared to be sick or injured," Mac added, knowing that Medical needed to know, whether or not Jack was going to be happy about it.

"Oh," Matty said seriously, fully processing what Jack's seemingly insignificant injury meant for the first time. Minimizing or teasing was not what Jack Dalton needed right now. Her usual approach would not improve this situation for her agent. "I'll let the medic at exfil know, and I'll tell Medical they need to prep for rabies exposure treatment."

"Excuse me?" Jack interjected with a hint of legitimate panic.

Matty ignored him and kept talking. "I'm not sure that's something they necessarily have on hand, but I'll make sure we have what we need in house by the time you land."

"Thanks, Matty," Mac responded. He glanced over at Jack, who had taken off his head set, and was just sitting next to him, arms folded, about as pale as milk.

Mac took off his headset, too. Neither their pilot, nor anyone at Phoenix needed to hear their conversation at this point. "You okay, Jack?" Mac felt like he'd been asking that a lot, and realized it was because he knew his partner wasn't okay.

He would be, but right now he was on a ledge and needed to be talked off. "Jack," he tried again. "You're not gonna die from it or anything, even if the bat did have rabies. It's not even a big deal if you get treatment before symptoms develop."

That wasn't exactly true, but Jack looked like he needed some major reassurance. And the odds of him being absolutely fine were really good. From a purely statistical perspective.

"Um …" Jack's eyes flicked to Mac's face, and then quickly away again. His arms wrapped tighter around himself, hands gripping his elbows. "Isn't rabies the thing where they have to stick a bunch of big needles in your belly?"

That's what was behind that expression. Mac thought Jack looked like someone might have already done just what Jack described to him. The poor guy was about to refund the nasi lamak they'd had for breakfast all over the deck any second.

Mac hurried to reassure him, because for one thing he felt badly for him, and for another, he wasn't interested in recycled curry perfuming the rest of their flight.

"Hey, no. Relax, man. They don't do that anymore."

Jack looked at him then, his expression reminded Mac of what he thought his own must have looked like the first time he'd jumped out of a plane (and still probably did look like anytime that came up – Hey, at least he could sympathize).

"It won't be that bad, big guy."

"If they don't do that anymore, what do they do?"

Mac patted Jack on the shoulder again, knowing that, from Jack's perspective anyway, the actual current treatment protocol for rabies exposure probably wasn't much of an improvement. And Jack was giving him a familiar sort of puppy dog look that made him look a lot younger than anyone who knew him and what he did for a living would have thought possible.

He didn't have anything honest to say that was going to make Jack feel any better, so he just repeated, "It won't be that bad," not believing what he was saying for even a second.

0-0-0

Mac unlocked the door to his house and preceded Jack through it, carrying a canvas shopping bag filled with items from the market up the street. He headed over to the counter to put it down and unload it.

Jack limped in, groaning not quite under his breath. It was a little melodramatic, Mac thought, but he wasn't about to give his partner a hard time. Jack turned and locked the door, arming the new security system that had been installed after what all of them (except for Mac) referred to only as "The Incident".

Mac referred to it as what it was, "The day I let the bad guys get the drop on me because I was distracted by bullshit about my father, and the fact that I was a complete dick to my best friend". He'd been trying very hard not to take Jack for granted or keep him at a distance since then. Mac understood that tendency was about his own baggage and had little if anything to do with Jack.

Jack limped his way over to the kitchen counter. They could both hear Riley and Bozer out on the deck, talking and laughing about something. Mac heard his partner mumble, "Aw, man."

Mac shook his head. Poor Jack. He was having one hell of a rough couple of days. And it hadn't exactly been a banner fucking year so far. By anyone's estimation, they'd been having a pretty rough go of it. Mac tried again to cheer Jack up without expressly referencing why he was so miserable.

"Boze texted me a little while ago," Mac started, leaving out 'while we were at Medical, suffering what probably felt like your worst day ever'. "He said Ri had come over and told him you were having an epically bad day, according to Matty, so he made a couple calls and has made you Mama Colton's buttermilk pie recipe. I bet that's what's out there waiting for you by the fire, pal."

Jack just sighed and gave Mac and almost pleading look. "Maybe you could just make some excuse. Maybe I should just, you know, head home, and … get some rest for a couple days, like the doc said, and …"

"You know you're gonna feel like garbage, Jack. Doc said so, too. Even Sully looked like she felt bad for you, man, and she feels bad for exactly nobody."

"Yeah, well it's easy to feel bad for somebody after you've stuck ten or fifteen holes in them …" Jack grumbled.

"Four, Jack. She stuck four holes in you. Don't be so dramatic." He stopped, almost laughing. "It steals the impact away from what you actually went through, man. So, she took your blood, and you got immunoglobulin. And rabies inoculation at the wound site, and in a muscle. That's not ten or fifteen. That's four."

"Deep muscle. You heard her say deep muscle, right? Like that really hurt. I'm not just bein' a baby. Even if she did laugh at me!"

"I did hear her, and I'm sure it hurt, Jack. I'm the last guy on earth who'd pretend to think that was fun. But you got a few shots and she drew some blood. That's a lot better than getting rabies, right?"

"Easy for you to say … You don't …" Jack trailed off, glaring at his partner with an expression that Mac thought probably could prepare him for the eventuality of having kids.

"You're right, big guy. I didn't have to put up with it, and I don't have to go back a bunch of times over the next two weeks to put up with it again … But … And this one you've got to give me, pal … A couple of shots now are a hell of a lot better than needing to be admitted … and are way better than getting rabies. Right?"

Jack shrugged, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah … I guess … You know I hate it when you're right about stuff like this, right?"

"I do." Mac grinned at him. "And you'll notice how I'm not hassling you now. Just giving you my best I feel sorry for you face, offering my spare room, which if you can crash in to hover over me like the world's most annoying helicopter parent, you can sure as hell use when you're sick and miserable, too. And … I'm totally preparing to tend bar."

Mac took out a very expensive bottle of bourbon and put it down on the counter with a satisfying solid thud. Jack couldn't help but smile a little at that. "Well, then …"

"We can even listen to Johnny Cash if you want tonight," Mac offered as further incentive for not disappearing back to his bachelor pad and pretending that that he was even a little okay tonight.

"I dunno, bud …"

"Boze and Ri are here because they care, man. They aren't gonna give you a hard time either. Just stay, Jack," Mac said, letting it be a request rather than using the bossy tone he sort of wanted to use. "You can barely walk."

Jack shrugged, but Mac turned and got a rocks glass out of his cupboard, put a single ice cube in it, and poured well over three fingers of very good bourbon onto it.

"Well, I'll barely be able to walk if I finish this," Jack finally grinned.

"That's the idea, partner." Mac paused, handed Jack a couple of gel icepacks from the freezer, which his partner took almost sheepishly to apply to his injuries. Then Mac just tipped his chin toward the deck. "I'll make you a sandwich, and I'll be out in a few."

"Aw, Mac, I'm not really hu- … Okay, yeah, I see the irony of what I was just about to say," Jack smiled sheepishly back at Mac who was giving him two raised eyebrows. "I would be very grateful for a sandwich, Mac. And I will try to eat it. Thank you," Jack said almost formally.

Mac laughed out loud. "Good. Or I would have felt compelled to explain for probably at least the tenth time the linguistic origins of the word hypocrite."

Jack's soft laughter drifted out and blended in with the other happy sounds coming from the deck.

Mac busied himself with preparing something his partner might be inclined to eat for dinner. And started mentally preparing himself for the flashbacks that might happen after all the other good-humored efforts at making Jack feel better ended.

0-0-0

Mac joined the group on the deck a few minutes later, putting an Italian sub with a side of potato chips and a Coke down on the small table next to Jack. Jack threw him another complete puppy dog look and opened his mouth to once again protest that he wasn't hungry.

"I don't want to hear it, Dalton," Mac said, mock-sternly.

"Yes, Dad," his partner grumbled.

Mac laughed. "Now you know how I feel when you're … you. Always." Mac just shook his head at the glare that had gotten him, and took a bite out of his own sandwich.

Bozer was looking worried. Mac concealed a grin around another bite at the fact that he wasn't the only one Boze went full Mama Bear with a wounded cub on. "You look awfully pale, Jack," Bozer observed.

Jack shrugged, finally picking up his plate after Mac gave him a very pointed look over his own sandwich, but he didn't take a bite. "It's just been a helluva rough day, Boze. I'll be fine."

"You sure they should've just sent you home? I mean … isn't rabies really serious."

Mac swallowed his bite with a swig of soda and jumped in before Bozer's worrying got Jack more worried. Boze did that sometimes, fed in to Jack's dramatic streak. Actually, when Mac came to think of it, they were kind of similar in their tendencies to overreact, it just looked different on them. "He doesn't have rabies, Boze. We don't even know if he was exposed to rabies. Medical is just being careful, that's all." He paused, hoping that would be enough to get the topic dropped. His plan was to get Jack to eat something, put on a movie that Jack liked but which he almost always fell asleep during, make sure his partner was reasonably comfortable, then rack out himself. It had been a long mission, even before the bat incident. "After dinner, you want to watch Force Awakens again, Jack? You can cuss out George Lucas on Twitter for the ending again."

Bozer wasn't going to be dissuaded. "Look at him, Mac. Jack looks like death warmed over."

"It was a long day, Boze. He's tired. I'm tired. Let's move on," Mac said firmly. He didn't have the energy to Bozer wrangle at the moment.

"Yeah, Boze, can we drop it?" Jack said in an almost pleading voice. "Today is not a thing I want to rehash. I'm stayin' here, Mac's hanging on to the instructions for if I ought to go back, and … Force Awakens sounds good, bud. I'd love to have another tweet battle with that murderer."

Riley rolled her eyes. "So maybe I'll head home for the night. I don't want to watch that again." She looked at Jack, with an understanding half smile. "You need anything before I go, Jack?"

"Nah, Mac's got everything covered."

Not sure she should ask, but sort of wanting to know how long she could expect this anxious pensive version of Jack to be hanging around, she tilted her head and said, "Was today everything you need to take care of the bite, or do you have to go back?"

Jack took a huge, deliberate bite of sandwich, and then just answered unintelligibly.

She glanced at Mac. "So, he's got more treatment in front of him then?"

Mac nodded. "The treatment series is today, which was probably the worst of it, then Day 3, and 7." Jack was making the sort of squinty eyed face Mac had been expecting. "And Day 14," Mac finished.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed looking almost offended, and smacking Mac solidly on the arm. "They said come back 'a couple of times'. That's not a couple!"

"Yeah, I think Sully just didn't want to make you cry, Jack."

"You shouldn't pick on the wounded!" Jack said indignantly.

"You shouldn't punch your partner in the arm just for saying facts out loud." He rubbed his bicep where Jack had hit him, shaking his head.

"Sorry, man," Jack said, genuinely looking it. "I'm just touchy, is all."

"I know," Mac answered with a kind smile. "That's why I didn't just hit you back."

Jack chuckled and shook his head. "I really am sorry."

"It's okay, Jack," Mac just gave an understanding nod.

Bozer was eyeing them both suspiciously. "Why is Jack so touchy … and why is Mac being so sympathetic about it?"

Riley snickered. "Jack's terrified of needles."

"Terrified is kind of a strong word," Jack said defensively.

"Jack?" Bozer almost laughed. "I thought Jack was only scared of imaginary things like cursed islands and black cats crossing his path."

Jack glared at him. "You're lucky you're too far away for me to dead arm without getting up … And I'm not terrified of anything!"

"Don't be so defensive, pal. It's a common enough phobia," Mac offered with a shrug.

"It's not a phobia!" Jack snapped.

Riley leaned forward, casting a conspiratorial look at Mac and Bozer, and she grinned at Jack. "One time when he was dating my mom, he was feeding our dog and sliced his hand open on the can opener."

Jack was blushing now and looking at Mac like he already knew this story was going to bite him in the ass. "Hey, now, no need to go tellin' tales of my younger days."

"Oh, I think there is, Mr. Big Tough Delta Who Nothing Supposedly Terrifies."

Jack looked appropriately sheepish and just shut up. Ri was in a talking mood, and if he tried to shut her up the story was just going to get longer and more embellished. "Fine," he huffed in resignation.

Riley smiled at him, looking just a little less teasing than she had a moment before. "Anyway, it bled everywhere. And it was a really bad cut. So I said he should go get stitches. I swear I got less of a dirty look when I hacked his bank account."

Mac laughed at that and said, "I can actually believe that!" But he did reach out and pat Jack on the shoulder.

Riley continued. "So he bled all over the kitchen and finally just superglued it closed." She gave Mac a double raise of her eyebrows.

Mac was a combination of amused and a little indignant himself. "You did what? You've given me endless shit for doing that, even in a legitimate emergency!"

"I was babysitting Riley. I couldn't just go to the emergency room, man. I was just being a responsible adult."

"If that's what you were doing it was the first and last time, Jack," Riley grinned. "I was almost thirteen. I could have stayed alone. Or … fun fact … I could've gone with you. You weren't being an adult, you were being a big chicken. But, I mean, Mac's right. It is a common phobia, I guess. I probably shouldn't tease."

"It's not a phobia!" Jack insisted.

Mac made a face.

"What?" Jack demanded.

"Well, a phobia is defined as a persistent, extreme, irrational fear of or aversion to something. It causes anxiety and often leads the sufferer to avoid situations associated with the subject of the phobia. In the case of a phobia of needles, it can cause the person to avoid necessary medical care," Mac answered.

"Like not getting stiches that you should definitely have gotten," Riley added.

"One time … that was one time …"

Mac shook his head. "There was more than one time, Jack. Like most of the time I knew you in Afghanistan. Just because you were the boss and nobody was around to order you to fess up, you thought you could put one over on three different medics. I shudder to think what you were like before I showed up. Like what would you have done in Nahri Saraj if I hadn't been there? By the time we got back stateside, I was amazed you were still in once piece."

Jack now looked appropriately sheepish. "You don't like 'em either," he nearly pouted at Mac.

"This is about you, Dalton. You leave me right out of it." Mac laughed again. "Besides, I'm pretty sure nobody likes needles. Like maybe some tiny piece of humanity just thinks 'oh good somebody's gonna stab me', but the rest of us can't be held responsible for the weirdness of a miniscule subset of the population."

Riley snorted. "You realize the irony of you pointing out that anyone else is weird, right? I had to move your shop vac hot tub again when I got here."

Mac grinned. "I didn't say weird was bad, just that we can't be held responsible for other people's weirdness."

"You guys oughta quit dragging Mac into this discussion," Boze said, suddenly a little defensive. "My bestie has perfectly valid reasons for not liking all that medical stuff. And bringing it up isn't cool."

"Perfectly valid like what?" Riley asked, giving Mac her teasing smile now. "Being a junior big chicken?"

Bozer sputtered with irritation brought on by the massive protective streak Mac had brought out in him way back in middle school. Mac held up a hand. "Boze, chill." He shrugged at Riley. "He means all the time I spent around hospitals and stuff when my mom was sick. And that's probably part of why I have a little avoidance issue of my own, so he's right."

"Sorry, Mac," Bozer said, looking like he expected his friend to be mad at him. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

Mac shrugged. "It's okay Boze; like I said, you're probably right. And," he looked pointedly at Jack. "You'll notice how I didn't just punch my best friend for saying a true thing …"

"I never really thought much about that bein' part of your deal, man," Jack said, looking a little upset with himself. He had mostly written off Mac's rejection of Medical as part of his stubborn, genius, I can fix everything in the universe all by myself, bullshit.

"I mean, it's not all of it. Have you ever seen anyone in scrubs not be a bossy pain in the ass? I hate being told what to do in that condescending tone they all seem to use. Hell, I don't much care for being told what to do at all."

Jack laughed at that, his own inner monologue and desire to be a little defensive, softened by Mac's openness. "Yeah, but we've got a pretty good crew mostly at Medical now. You're a lot better than you used to be about owning up to it when you're busted up."

Mac tipped him a crooked smile. "Yeah, well, I'm workin' on it, old man. And mostly they just know me well enough now to not get too pushy. Hell, even Sully's not as bossy and mean as she used to be."

"Which is good," Bozer said. "Because you seem to hate it there even more since all that stuff happened with Murdoc."

Jack couldn't miss Mac's color fading a shade. But Mac just said dismissively, "I think you're imagining things, Boze. Jack and I don't like getting dragged in to Medical, because it usually takes us out of the field … And before either one of you guys give me more shit, or double down on Jack again, I repeat, nobody likes shots."

Riley shrugged. "You're not wrong. It's just so funny to see Jack get all keyed up over a little needle stick, when he brushes off getting shot, like with a bullet, like a little old mosquito bite."

"Speaking of me getting all keyed up," Jack said, no longer really caring if the crew wanted to hassle him. "Um … Is it really three more times?" Jack asked in a voice that was a lot smaller than his normal speaking voice.

Mac nodded, wrinkling his face in apology. "Yeah, it is. Not so many holes poked in you though. Just one at each follow-up, according to Sully."

"That's not so bad, I guess," Jack hedged, doing his best to handle his features normally.

Mac grinned so he'd know he did an okay job looking and sounding like regular not-having-an-ongoing-panic-attack Jack. "Better than the alternative, for sure."

"Oh, man," Jack almost moaned, going very pale suddenly. "I don't feel great."

Riley was about to tease him again, saying thinking about what was ahead of him in a few days was no reason to hurl all over Mac and Bozer's deck, but Mac leaned closer. "Headache?" he asked, and Jack nodded. "Stomach?"

Jack nodded. "I just started hurting all over, man."

Mac looked thoughtful for a minute. Then he nodded, almost to himself, and got to his feet. He reached out a hand to help Jack up. "C'mon, big guy. Let's get you settled in the guest room, let you get some rest."

"Kinda early for bed," he protested, but wrapped an arm around his stomach as it flipped unpleasantly. "Ugh … This is not awesome."

"Side effects from the rabies vaccine, Jack," he looked at Boze and Riley to let them know even gentle teasing time was over. Jack was past wanting to be distracted or even being able to deal rationally with the good-natured ribbing that so often characterized their team. Jack stumbled and steadied himself, grabbing Mac's arm. "Dizzy, too, pal?"

Jack just nodded, slowly.

Jack let Mac slide an arm around him, and he draped one of his over Mac's shoulders and let his friend walk him into the guest room, where the covers were already turned back, and a bottle of water and several pills was already waiting on the night stand.

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "What's all this stuff?"

Mac sat down next to him. "Antibiotics, something for pain and fever, and nausea meds. I knew you weren't paying any attention when they were going over your discharge instructions, so I figured I might as well get these ready for you before I came out with your sandwich before.

Jack nodded, closing his eyes for a minute before he picked up the pills and the water and swallowed both, draining the water bottle in three long pulls. He grinned at Mac. "Well, water still tastes okay, so I guess I probably don't have rabies."

Mac shook his head as he stood up. Handing Jack a set of sweats from the dresser nearby, he smiled back. "Well, instead of telling you that rabies doesn't infect you that quickly, and that you wouldn't know if you'd developed symptomatic hydrophobia, I'm just going to be impressed that you remembered one fact that Sully told you while you were busy being freaked out."

Jack made a face and lay down on the bed, not bothering to change or even get under the blankets. He just draped an arm over his eyes. "Good for me," he sighed. "How long do the pills take to work?" he asked, knowing Mac would have an answer at the ready.

"Twenty minutes to an hour, Jack. You should feel a little better soon."

"Alright. I'm just gonna stay like this for a little bit … and …" he trailed off, moaning softly again.

"I'll come back and check on you, buddy."

Mac left the room quietly. Poor Jack. All the shots had been bad enough, but now he was having side effects too. He hoped that wouldn't be the case for the rest of the treatments. Jack wouldn't voluntarily walk back into Medical for six months if the next three rounds involved being stabbed with a giant needle and then feeling like he'd been poisoned afterward.

Mac smiled to himself and shook his head a little. He could relate. And like the light teasing this afternoon had highlighted, that wasn't exactly consistent with badassed secret agent street cred.

After Mac cleaned up from their sandwiches, said goodbye to Riley, and got slightly suspicious of Bozer who had suddenly gotten really interested in going trail running the last few weeks and was headed out for his second run of the day, Mac finally made his way back in to see how Jack was doing.

He was pleased to see that Jack had managed to get up and change into sleep clothes, and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Mac stepped closer, peering at him more carefully. He didn't look the sort of feverish sweaty he'd been worried about, and his face was smooth, suggesting he wasn't still in pain. Mac gave a little nod of satisfaction, and turned to leave the room.

Jack's voice stopped him. "I'm not some big chicken," he said sleepily.

Mac went back over and sat down on the bed next to him. "I know that, man."

"I really … I mean … I have reasons that … I'm workin' on it though," he asserted, not quite coherently. They'd sent better pain pills than Mac thought. Or, if he was honest, maybe they were just regular old pain pills. That shit never seemed to work all that great for him, but Jack was very susceptible to it.

"I know, pal."

Jack cracked an eye open. "You do?"

"You told me … You told me all about Fallujah when we were … you know … when we were …" Mac trailed off.

"When we were what? I'd swear I never told anybody about that thing from my first tour."

Mac licked his lips nervously. "On the … On the island."

Jack frowned again, opening both eyes and searching Mac's face.

"The … the one in Canada," Mac finally forced out.

"Oh … Well, I guess maybe I can see why I … Right. Let's talk about something less godawful. How about Cairo?" Jack said to break the tension he could feel building between both of them.

It worked perfectly because Mac laughed. "Or instead of talking about horrible shit at all, nobody else is around right now … Let's go get comfortable on the couches and watch Star Wars. Like all of them. Even Phantom Menace."

Jack sat up and swung his feet off the side of the bed. "That sounds awesome. Even if I can't stay awake for much of it."

Several hours later, they were both laying on Mac's couches, with the lights off and the movie playing. Bozer had come home and disappeared into his room. Mac decided not to even wonder what had Bozer acting weird lately. He suspected it was a girlfriend. Bozer was quiet about relationships until he was about ready to propose to a girl.

Mac thought Jack was asleep again, until his partner asked, sounding fully awake, "You really don't just think I'm a big chicken?"

"About some stuff? Like cursed islands, for example? Sure. About this? No. Stop worrying about it, man. I told you, it's a common phobia."

"You're killin' me, Smalls."

Mac laughed. "I didn't mean to earn a Sandlot quote, big guy. I was just pointing out that even if it feels less than usual to you, it's not an unusual way for a person to feel."

"It's not a phobia. There's reasons."

"Phobias can be caused by traumatic events, Jack. And … You definitely had one … more than one of those. Those are reasons. Just let it go and get some sleep."

"I just … I don't like something that makes no sense out there … that would … make any of you guys … think less of me."

Mac smiled a little at that. That was what was bothering Jack. Not the needles, or the fact that there were more of them in his future. What was keeping Jack up right now was the idea that his team, or his kids (helicopter, surrogate, or otherwise) might not think of him as the big damned hero he wanted to be for them.

"Jack, no one thinks less of you for having an honest fear. And because I know the story of why … And I see you just gut it out and deal with it … Even if there is a good amount of whining while you do … Well, that makes me think you're probably the bravest guy I know."

Jack chuckled softly, not in amusement or because he doubted Mac's sincerity at all, but because hearing that made him incredibly happy. "From you … I think I'll take that."

0-0-0

Mac sat in the waiting area at Medical, flipping through a magazine that he was pretty sure had been in the waiting room at the old DXS headquarters when he'd first come to work for them. What was it with doctor's offices and outdated reading material?

He was hoping this would be the last time he'd find himself down here for a while. He'd had his own run of just needing to be in this wing as a patient over the last couple of months that he could have done very nicely without. And having to talk Jack down off his proverbial ledge three times in the last couple of weeks had been tough.

Especially because he knew the story of why it got Jack so wound up. He swallowed. He'd had enough similar experiences that his ability to sympathize was more enhanced than he particularly cared for. Although for Mac, his past experiences hadn't gotten so deep into his brain as to be anything other than the food for some nightmares and flashbacks, both of which he'd gotten pretty good at dealing with.

Until the thing with Murdoc, Mac thought he'd done pretty well with traumatic events from his past. Even his slight tendency to avoid medical care had less to do with his mom, and more to do with being bad at being told what to do. Or at least that's what he told himself, pretty successfully, most of the time.

He thought for a second about how he'd felt waking up after a recent injury with an IV, the dopey feeling of sedatives and pain meds in his head, and his instant, violent, and totally irrational urge to tear it out of his arm. The memory sent a brief surge of adrenaline all through him and he stood, needing to pace a little to get rid of it.

If that's what Jack felt like every time he had to come in here, he'd never tease the older man about it again, or let Boze or Riley tease him either, Mac thought. Although, he thought Jack had been dealing with his situation progressively better over the last two weeks. He hadn't even wanted Mac to hang out with him for his shot this morning. And fortunately, after the first dose, it hadn't been making him sick.

After another few days worth of leave, they'd be back on the duty roster, a piece of paperwork Mac was actually looking forward to. Mac heard the familiar tones of "Go Cowboys," and looked up to see Jack being escorted out by one of the nurses his partner actually liked a fair amount. Mac thought it was because the two of them liked to jokingly flirt a little bit, but since she was a Giants fan that would be a match made in hell and they both knew it. Regardless, they got along pretty well, so it made being down here easier for Jack.

"Hey, Theresa," Mac greeted. "Can I get my partner out of here so we can go celebrate the all-clear with beer and take-out?"

She smiled at him pleasantly. "Shortly. Sully wants him to sit here for fifteen minutes or so because he almost passed out after the first round. It's just a standing note on his chart, though," she assured both of them. "Jack seems fine today. I think I may have even gotten winked at."

"I was just winkin' back, Terry. You started it."

Mac laughed at both of them. "It's good to see him so relaxed," Mac nodded to her. "We're still on leave, so it's no big deal to hang out for a few more minutes. We wouldn't want to piss Sully off, right Jack?"

"No, sir," Jack said with real gravity. "I like bein' on that woman's good side."

"Yeah, me, too," Mac said, sounding nearly as serious as Jack.

"She'll be happy to hear that," Theresa said with a smile. "Especially since she asked me to send you back."

"Me? What for?" Mac asked, brow creasing.

"Director Webber has asked that for agents authorized for international assignments, we add the basic rabies inoculation to our vaccine protocol. Which means …"

Mac sighed. "Yeah, I know what it means …" He rolled his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Well, you could always discuss it with the Director, but …"

"Yeah, no … not gonna discuss any such thing with Matty," Mac grumbled.

Then he looked at Theresa again. "Right now?"

"That's what Sully said."

"Actually," Jack interrupted. "What she said was 'send him back here and don't give him a chance to escape'."

"She said no such thing, Agent MacGyver," she assured him. "I think your partner likes giving you a hard time."

Mac just puffed hair out of his face and gestured to Terry to lead the way to have a conversation with the momentary bane of his existence. "Fine, let's just do this."

Jack didn't really intend to tease, but he had to admit they were both pretty easy marks when it came to this stuff. And he also had to admit that the teasing helped. It kept you from going into the dark corners of your mind that it liked to forget were there until you got lost in the shadows.

He quoted his young friend's words from a couple of weeks ago back at him as he headed out back. "It won't be that bad, pal."

Mac cast a rueful grin over his shoulder at Jack, who was feeling pretty good about being free from Medical's clutches at least for the time being. "You're killin' me, Smalls."