Finding One's Place
By: Ridley
A/N: I know this isn't the next chapter of Guard Your Heart, but I hope you will forgive me and my muse. This was supposed to be a small story, ten pages tops. Unbeknownst to me, it seems I am incapable of writing a 'little' one shot, because they tend to become ginormous monsters that ravage my time and take up way too many words! I could blame some other writers for inspiring me, or my beta for indulging me, but it basically is just me needing to visit the boys and this turned out more ramblings than pointed plot. Guard Your Heart is coming soon, and I have a Father's Day one shot stirring. Keep your fingers crossed. As always, thanks to Mary and her tireless efforts to keep me on track and call cheesy when she sees cheesy. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
RcJ
"What the hell is he doing?" Jack Dalton growled into his cell phone that connected him to Riley Davis, who was monitoring surveillance from a few miles outside the city of Hamburg, Germany. He was talking more to himself than Riley but it felt good to yell his thoughts at another person, probably a side effect of military life. After routine ground reconnaissance, Jack had taken up temporary residence in an empty apartment over a tapas bar that gave him an excellent view of the crowd coming and going into the Fischmarkt.
"I told him to peruse the market, stay with his mark. Not engage with people in the market. I swear I think he's currently haggling with a street barker over the price of salmon." Jack focused his gaze through his scope back on Bozer who was gesticulating wildly in front of one of the open trucks.
"This is Bozer we're talking about." Riley replied conversationally, obviously assuming wrongly that Jack wanted feedback. Jack imagined she was smirking at him. There was probably an eye roll thrown in for good measure. Sometimes he was convinced Riley was punishing him for bugging out on her teen years by making sure he relived the worst parts of adolescence with her currently. "He engages people at long red lights, Jack. It's ingrained in his extremely extroverted personality type, which you would know if you'd bothered to show up for that human resources meeting about team building that Matty set up last week."
It was Jack's turn to roll his eyes. Psycho-babble personality quizzes was not something he was about to waste his time on. He'd had enough evaluations to understand himself quite well. "And pray tell what facet of Bozer's personality makes him think he can disregard my direct orders I wonder?"
"Probably the part where he is pretty much prone to be a follower and he sees Mac consistently regard said direct orders as mere suggestions."
"Yeah, well, Mac is a trained field agent with five years of experience under his belt, and he's my partner." Jack might not enjoy the fact that Mac weighed each of his orders against what he thought might suit the situation best, but Jack knew Mac's decisions were based on professional judgment and they had a history that assured Jack's confidence even if he didn't always like the risks Mac took. Bozer's mere three months in Phoenix did not warrant such trust.
"Looks like your partner is once again choosing to exercise his right of autonomy in the field by abandoning his post at the bakery." Jack could practically hear the amusement in Riley's report. "In other word's Mac's on the move, old man. Who's ignoring his mark now?"
"Damn it." Jack cut the connection on the cell phone, switching to coms as he once more looked through his rifle scope to find Mac's location. "Mac, what happened to our plan not to go spooking the spook until we had a confirmed identification of said spook?"
"Relax, Jack." Mac sounded cool and calm as Jack watched him carefully fold up the paper he'd been reading and toss it into a garbage bin along with the remains of his breakfast. Jack hadn't thought that a fresh fish sandwich would be appealing at seven in the freaking morning but he'd found himself coveting it, along with the coffee he rarely even drank. Mac's response interrupted his thoughts of food. "I'm just making sure the short cut which one of our potential marks is about to make through the alley across the way isn't actually him heading to our meet up."
"One- we're not completely sure there is even going to be a meet up. Two- I thought we agreed that if there is a meet up that said meet up would probably take place in this crazy circus." Jack still couldn't quite grasp why a town held such a huge party on a Sunday morning at the break of dawn. People turned out in droves to purchase not only produce and the fish but to listen to lively music and even partake in some strange dancing. It made Jack wonder just how much of the crowd was actually left over from the night life of all the bars and clubs along the Reeperbahn. Either way, it provided perfect cover for a clandestine, covert exchange. "Thirdly, and most important- if you go into that alley, brother, I can't watch your back from this vantage point."
"That's okay, Jack." Bozer's animated voice cut in. "I'll watch Mac's six."
"The hell you will, Bozer. That is not your job." Jack was already on his feet, storing his rifle and checking the ammo clip in his Beretta. The last thing they needed was Bozer in the middle of a meeting between two high-valued CIA targets, cyber-terrorists with ties to suspected militant radicals possibly based in the US. Jack had doubted the wisdom of Matty's decision to let the lab tech venture out on this particular mission from the beginning seeing as how they weren't planning to use any disguises, but unlike some of his team he knew his place and how to follow a damn order and keep his opinions to himself. The Phoenix agent took one last glance out the huge window that showed a spectacular panorama view over the harbor, to the small island Steinwerder and the Fischmarkt. "Seeing as how you have no gun and no hand to hand combat skills currently in your bag of tricks, you will continue perusing the market. Do you hear me, Bozer? Peruse. Not engage."
"Whose fault is it that I have no gun?" Bozer continued talking as Jack made his way out of the apartment and down the stairs that would lead him out the door to the street. The strong smell of alcohol and fish was nearly overpowering and more than unpleasant to Jack's empty stomach as he exited the building, and scanned the bustling street for Mac. He'd just caught site of his partner's blue shirt and blond hair when Bozer spoke again. "No one will let me go near the shooting range. And even if I'm not the Karate kid, I have excellent observation skills. Apparently I'm a strong sensor."
"Listen to Jack, Boze." Mac's quiet voice joined the conversation once more. "Use your keen observation skills to make sure our other potential mark doesn't leave his position."
"Uh, about that…" Their newest team member suddenly sounded less sure of himself.
"Bozer, tell me you did not lose track of our guy." Jack was moving faster now, while searching for Bozer in the location where he should have been sitting.
"Currently I might not have him in my direct line of sight, but…"
"But nothing, Dude." Jack sighed. "You had one damn job and I expected you to do it."
"Unmet expectations are potential areas of conflict in any team." Bozer quoted some rhetoric which Jack was certain had come straight from Matty's damn personality specialist. In the Army a guy learned all about managing expectations. One had to know ,not only what they were capable of accomplishing, but what each member of their team had to offer as well. Bozer, Jack decided, was obviously useful for commentary Jack didn't need. "That along with role confusion and lack of recognizing each person's strengths."
"The only conflict I'm concerned about at the moment, Bozer, is the one you and I seem to be having in the area of communication." Jack seethed as he tried his best to look like a hurried, haggard tourist in desperate need of caffeine fix instead of a dangerous wolf on the hunt. "And by communication I mean you following my damn orders without question and cutting the radio chatter."
"Guys," Mac's whispered interruption claimed all of Jack's attention. "I think we might have a problem."
"No more problems, Mac. Bozer's insubordination has met our quota today." Jack turned the corner of the alley frowning when he saw no sign of Mac, but did catch a glimpse of Bozer who was just exiting the other side. Damn it. "This is supposed to be a simple in and out. Interrupt a nerd meet-up, grab any potential intel they might be trying to pass to one another. Don't do this to me. You promised beers at Pyrates tonight, remember?"
"Don't blame me if some party crashers just showed up at the docks." Mac was a bit breathless, like maybe he'd made a dash for some cover. Jake grimaced as he wondered if Bozer had the sense to do the same or if he'd just walked out in the open. They'd ruled out the docks as a drop because of the fact the area wasn't as well travelled, making it much harder to blend in. Apparently the suspected terrorists didn't mind being conspicuous. "I've got my guy in the Deutscher Fussball-bund shirt. And he just approached two unknowns in a food truck? They don't really look like chefs or the friendly sort if you get my drift."
"Bozer, what's your location?" Jack demanded, but received no response. "Bozer. Sit rep. Now!"
"Bozer!" The slight panic in Mac's voice had Jack abandoning any pretense of being a tourist. He pulled his gun from the holster at his back and charged forward just as Mac demanded, "What are you doing?"
Jack slowed his pace when he came to the end of the alley, edging around to check the damn situation for himself since Bozer had chosen the worst time to go for radio silence. He could see Mac's guy in the HSV shirt still at the window of the food truck, as well as what had caused Mac's alarm. Another person had entered from one street up. If Jack wasn't mistaken it was the mark Bozer had been tracking. He and Bozer were now engaged in conversation.
"You have got to be kidding me…" Jack didn't see signs that Bozer was in distress, on the contrary his hands were moving wildly about like they had been when he was chatting up the food vendor earlier, like maybe he was merely telling one of his crazy tales and computer hacker number two seemed to be giving directions, pointing out the harbor across the way. "What part of do not engage does he not understand? He's going to get shot in the face. I know he is," Jack groused, frustrated.
"Jack, I'm going in for a closer look." Mac's unexpected announcement had Jack swinging his gaze to his partner.
"What? Why?" Jack felt like he was watching some frenzied tennis match as he tried to keep his attention on both Bozer and his partner. He couldn't fathom when exactly he'd lost complete control of the situation. Suddenly, commanding his Delta team in the desert was looking really good, like a day at the beach good. Sand in every nook and cranny of his body was preferable to insubordination and chaos. "We don't' have all the players on the board, Mac."
"My guy just pulled something from his back pack. I'm guessing it's the hard drive." Jack watched Mac move from behind two large trash dumpsters and start towards the water, knowing good and well his partner's impatience had as much to do with his need to divert any unwanted attention from Bozer as it did the appearance of the suspected merchandise.
Jack was about to tell him to stand the hell down until they got a better reading of the variables when his cell buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with his free hand bringing it to his ear. "Riley, tell me you got eyes on the food truck on the docks and maybe a thermal reading that might give me an idea of any surprises inside."
"I would worry more about the two black SUV's headed your way," the computer tech replied with a familiar edge in her tone. Jack could hear her fingers flying over computer keys. "Matty just relayed that a NSA team has been monitoring our communications and has decided to intercept the drop with a squad of DIA agents. My readings show five men in each vehicle."
"Ah, hell." Jack let his gaze go from Mac who was casually scanning the water line like a good tourist, even holding up the map he'd pulled from his back pocket, to Bozer who having wrapped up his conversation was walking back towards Jack's position. "Why's DIA here? No one mentioned any military intelligence being traded. I thought this was basic espionage, Snowden shit. And what happened to letting us minimize risk of civilian casualty by applying some freaking finesse?"
"Do you really want details?" Riley snapped.
Jack let out a frustrated sigh. "How long, Ri?"
Riley didn't even get her response out before the two SUV's in question squealed around the corner, no stealth attempted.
"Mac!" Jack barely managed his partner's name before the vehicles had skidded to a stop and agents poured out, all armed and not seeming to give a damn that Jack had two team members at real risk of being caught in a barrage of crossfire. As if Jack's thoughts had prompted the worst case scenario, the men in the food truck realized what was happening and decided to cut their losses. Mac's mark in the German Soccer shirt made a run for it and Jack watched as Mac tackled the guy to the ground, both of them going down in a tangle of arms and legs just short of the water. Jack prayed the DIA gunmen at least understood Mac to be one of the good guys and wouldn't accidentally put a bullet in him. Because Jack having to shoot a bunch of stupid ass NSA and DIA agents was sure to cause a national incident and have Matty and the suits at Oversight kicking up one hell of a fuss.
As much as Jack wanted to check on his partner he had bigger problems at the moment as the food truck was making a mad getaway, barreling straight for the alley which Jack had just exited. If the truck got through it put the crowd on the other side at risk of being mowed down. He heard shots and assumed the DIA unit were firing at the vehicle. One struck the back tire, slowing the truck's momentum as it spun, sending it veering away from Jack. It would have been a lucky break if Bozer hadn't been taking in this unexpected turn of events like the good little observant sensor he was with a bit of stunned confusion which had frozen him in his tracks and put him squarely in the redirected path of destruction.
Jack didn't even think. He started running. He prayed.
Time slowed as it magically tended to do whenever a guy found himself in a very bad situation. Jack had always meant to ask Mac why that was, what specific structure in the brain turned on the slo-mo speed when the worst was about to happen.
It might have been comical if Jack hadn't known what was coming. Bozer's gaze met his and his eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent shout just as Jack slammed into him, sending him flying several feet with a move that Jack's old high school football coach would have given a rousing applaud. The problem, Mac, being the master of all things physics, would have no doubt pointed out to Jack if Jack had bothered to consult his partner, was that when a body in motion collided with an unmoving object with enough force to propel said object forward, energy was dispersed, stolen, slowing or in Jack's case nearly stopping the original body in motion. Like in a game of pool. Mac would have translated the brainy into Jack-speak no doubt. Jack was the cue ball, brought to an abrupt stop upon contact with Bozer, who was now like the eight ball propelled safely towards the corner pocket.
The collision with the truck lifted Jack off his feet, rolling him over the hood to slam into the windshield with such considerable force that he heard the glass shatter before his momentum slung him off and tossed him violently to the pavement. Jack found that time suddenly reverted to normal about the moment his body became aware of the pain. Hot agony exploded in his right side. Fiery and unrelenting like the blow back from an explosion. He might have screamed. Or maybe it was Mac. Jack hated that he gave way to the black abyss of unconsciousness before he could be certain his partner was safe.
RcJ
Mac heard Jack shout his name just as two black SUV's barreled onto their playing field. The one thing Mac had discovered about their line of work in the spy business was that one had to always be prepared to contend with the unknown variables. The Army had been different, where there was a rhyme and reason to all things, and methodic was not only a motto but a way of life. Mac's need for order and structure had actually fit well into the life of a soldier. Although his uncanny ability to improvise tended to be more suited to the job he did now. The ability to think three steps ahead was one of his strengths, so when the suspected cyber-terrorist made a run for it, Mac was ready.
He stopped the guy just short of the water's edge, tackling him and sending them both to the ground. The man had either considered jumping into the Elbe hoping to swim his way to safety or maybe tossing the hard drive in as a last ditch effort to dispose of any evidence. Mac wasn't about to let either happen. No matter the new players' agenda, his mission was still to retrieve the hacked US intelligence. Jack would take care of the extrapolating factors and fallout. Just like he always did.
Cyber-terrorists although lethal in their own way, tended, like Jack had pointed out about Bozer, not to have a skill set that lent itself to hand to hand confrontation. Mac, on the other spectrum, had been trained by some of the best, both in Afghanistan and on home turf. If Mac allowed himself to think about it too much, he really was an odd duck. A walking, talking juxtaposition. Fortunately, being atypical worked for him. Mac easily subdued his opponent, but he wasn't quick enough to stop the unknowns in the food truck from attempting their getaway. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the men from the SUV's open fire on the vehicle.
By the time Mac had secured the zip tie and slid the hard drive into his pocket the collision was unavoidable. That was the problem with unknown variables. They changed the original formula, possibly transforming a relatively safe mixture into a highly unstable and unpredictable compound. Mac had not foreseen the events currently taking place, they didn't fall within the parameters of their battle plan. For instance, he had counted on Bozer staying at his original post. He had not anticipated what he assumed were government agents barging into their operation. Mac had most definitely not hypothesized that his partner and roommate would be mowed down by a speeding food truck right before his very eyes.
"Jack!" Mac screamed his partner's name as he ran, having heard the sickening thud of impact, the crunch of glass as a body went arcing over the truck that continued its forward momentum until it struck the dumpsters Mac had been hiding behind earlier and stopped. He barely glanced to the group of agents converging on the wreckage, giving only the briefest of attention to the two that broke away to chase after the other cyber terrorist who had made a smarter choice of escape than his partner by retreating to the alley in which he'd entered. Instead, Mac focused on Bozer who was several feet from where Jack lay. He was struggling to make it to his knees. Mac's relief at realizing his best friend had not also been struck by the truck was short lived as he made it to his unmoving partner.
"Jack?" Mac dropped to his knees at the older agent's side fully expecting Jack to give him a smart ass grin and ask some stupid question like 'hey, bud, did you happen to get the tag of the Bradley that just hit me?' Instead Mac was greeted with complete stillness. The silence scared him more than the blood running down Jack's forehead, the cuts on his face. It was more terrifying than the unnatural angle at which Jack's right arm was wedged under him and the fact that it took two tries for Mac to find the rapid, shallow pulse that had him blinking back hot tears of relief. "Jack? Can you hear me?"
Mac had seen Jack hurt plenty of times. He'd once been held hostage by an Iraqi soldier and watched his captor shoot Jack point blank in the chest. Mac had seen his partner miraculously climb from the wreckage of a Humvee that had just been rolled by an IED. He'd seen him beaten and stabbed by two mercenaries out to collect on a bounty that had been placed on both their heads while they were serving in Afghanistan. Mac had been part of a Delta team that had pulled a half-dead Jack from an encampment in Iraq where Jack had been tortured for days. Then there was Cairo and countless other missions with DXS. In all of those times, Mac had never known Jack not to have some kind of remark to make about how he was fine and how Mac shouldn't be looking so scared because they both knew Jack was too mean and ornery to let a little thing like a bullet, blade or bomb do him in.
"Mac!" Bozer's voice vanquished the impaling thoughts holding Mac temporarily transfixed, pinned like a bug on mat board. "Is he…Oh, man, is he okay?"
"He was just hit by a truck, Bozer!" Mac looked up long enough to see for himself that his other friend was in one piece before returning his gaze to Jack. He bit his lip to keep from adding 'while shoving you out of the way'. "Call Riley. Have her get help here now." From the corner of his eyes Mac saw Bozer kneeling on Jack's other side, fumbling for his phone.
"Jack?" Mac tried again, carefully laying his hand alongside his partner's face, giving it a slight pat. He mentally ran through the list of likely trauma from a blunt force blow. Head injury, spinal fracture, internal damage, broken bones all jumbled together, threatening to undo Mac's composure. He needed Jack to wake up, to tell him that he was fine and everything was going to be okay. "Come on, man. Talk to me."
"She has a team on the way, Mac." Bozer rocked back on his heels. "She saw the whole thing and is already en route. What's Jack call it-Oscar Mike?"
"You need to call Matty." Mac didn't even meet Bozer's gaze. He had moved his hands to Jack's shoulders, along his side, unsure of what to do for him, knowing he shouldn't move him until the medics arrived, but desperately needing to do something to help. He settled for wrapping his fingers around Jack's left hand, holding tight in hopes of anchoring his partner to him.
"You want me to call Matty?" Bozer sounded slightly hysterical. "I don't know if I'm the right guy to deliver this news."
"You are exactly the right guy." Mac grit his teeth, trying to keep his anger in check. In the back of his mind he knew this was not entirely Bozer's fault. His roommate would never do anything to intentionally put a person in harm's way. Especially one of their family. Bozer loved Jack, even if they didn't always see things eye to eye, especially since Bozer had come onto their team and their dynamic had shifted. But the fact was, Jack had been hurt and although the bulk of that blame lay on the driver of the food truck, some of it fell right at Bozer's feet because he'd, intentionally or not, set some of the events into motion by disobeying a direct order to stay put. It was something Mac had once been guilty of in Afghanistan and he'd learned the consequences the hard way, just as Bozer would.
"Damn." Bozer kept his eyes on Jack as he made the call, his free hand coming to rest gently on the injured agent's shoulder as he performed the dreaded task assigned him.
Mac jerked when another hand lighted on his arm. He whirled to find Riley, her fingers now painfully digging into his skin as she got a good look at Jack. She dropped to her knees beside Mac, the fierce countenance that often caused her to look older and always cool and competent crumbling under the weight of inescapable fear. "Oh my God. Is he…"
"He's breathing," Mac said. Seeing his earlier terror reflected in Riley's gaze ignited a rush of rage he couldn't contain. Years of steadfast friendship might keep him from lashing out at Bozer, but he had no qualms about confronting the other party he blamed for Jack's current state. Letting go of Jack's hand, he found Riley's. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, waiting for her to meet his gaze before placing her hand over Jack's. "Stay here. Whatever you do, don't let him go."
"Where are you going?" She nodded numbly, her worried gaze locked on Mac.
"I'll be right back," Mac promised, his calm voice in complete opposition to the turmoil swirling inside him. One more glance at his injured partner and Mac pushed to his feet.
Sirens sounded in the distance now. Local police, and hopefully the ambulance Riley had summoned. Mac found he didn't have to go far. Two of the agents not working to secure the guys from the food truck crossed to intercept him. From their clothes to their swagger, Mac guessed CIA or with the NSA tie-in, more likely DIA, their attitude definitely military.
"MacGyver?" One of them asked, his gaze sweeping over Mac as if he were trying to match information he'd read from a file with the person standing before him. It was a look Mac was not unfamiliar with, one in which received countless times when working missions with Jack's Delta squad.
Mac nodded. "Who's in charge here?"
"Do you have the hard drive?" The second agent asked, not answering Mac's question.
"Who's point on this operation?" Mac continued to stare at the first guy, already discounting the other as the person he was looking for. The Army, and specifically his time with Delta, had taught Mac to easily recognize those in charge without any need for insignia or uniforms.
The two agents exchanged glances before the one who had initially addressed Mac called over his shoulder to a man named Morgan. Morgan, the apparent agent in charge, didn't look pleased to be pulled away from the conversation he was currently having with the hacker Mac had taken down, and the other one that had now been captured and zip tied as well.
"Tell me you have the hard drive, kid. If you do, you need to give it to me. Now." Morgan demanded as soon as he was face to face with Mac. "If your team's bumbling antics cost us that info…"
The fact Morgan didn't even acknowledge that there was a man down, that he clearly only cared for the package that had been intercepted, made Mac's response so much easier.
Mac hit the arrogant bastard with a right cross that had him staggering with a stunned stuttered expletive. Most men would have been on the ground, but considering Morgan was built a bit like Dwayne Johnson's character from the Fast and Furious franchise, Mac's pride wasn't hurt. In fact, he was glad the man stayed on his feet because that gave him a chance to hit him again with an upper cut to the gut, which felt a bit like pummeling a concrete wall, but was satisfying all the same. The left hook Mac threw to Morgan's face sent a gratifying arc of blood and spit flying.
"What the hell…" Morgan swore. After that third punch the guy seemed to get a clue that the only thing Mac was planning to give him was a beating and he decided to return in kind.
Mac was aware of the pain that exploded along his cheek, but in a detached, clinical sort of way, his mind assessing that although the blow would leave one hell of a mark it wasn't something to be too concerned with. In fact, it cleared Mac's head and his attack became more calculated, clinical and very Jack-like. Mac had never embraced his partner's motto that there was no such thing as a dirty fight as he did in that moment. He used his feet to keep from getting too close. Lashed out at the pseudo Rock's knee, swept the leg and when Goliath fell, Mac was on him like a wolf that had just brought down the prize elk in the herd. He was running on pure adrenaline, the assault became automatic, almost like muscle memory. Mac didn't hear the chaos around him, the scrambling of Morgan's men. He wasn't sure how many blows he got in or the hits he received in turn but suddenly someone was shouting his name, bringing him back to himself. Mac became aware of the crowd surrounding the brawl first, then the secure hands on him from behind.
For one brief second he naively entertained the idea that Jack had miraculously come around, was in the nick of time to pull Mac from that ledge that he'd somehow stepped over. Jack would ask him what the hell he was thinking, but would be secretly proud Mac had gotten the guy twice his size on the ground so quickly, gaining the upper hand before the bastard realized he was in real trouble. Just like Jack had taught him. But it was Bozer's voice that registered through the haze of fury, and Mac's breath was stolen, not by the last minute sucker punch to his gut which Morgan managed to get in while Mac's arms were pinned, but by the crushing disappointment that Jack wasn't the one watching his back.
"Let me go." Mac jerked away, fully intent on finishing the job he'd started.
"Mac!" Bozer shouted once more, reaching out again to grip Mac's arm. "Stop it. Just stop!"
Mac had no intention of stopping, at least not until he'd made Morgan regret the moment he'd blindsided their operation with all the finesse of a stampede of elephants, getting Jack hurt in the process.
"You better listen to him, Son." Morgan's men had him on his feet, though he was still slightly doubled over, his arm tight across his mid-section. He spat blood on the pavement. Mac hoped he'd knocked some teeth out, at least cracked a few ribs. "You won't fare so well the next time you come after me."
"I'm guessing you've read my file, Morgan." Mac took the hard drive from his pocket, slung it at the man's feet. "If my partner doesn't make it, you won't see me the next time, you sonofabitch. Your buddies will be scraping up tiny pieces of you for weeks."
"Mac!" Bozer finally succeeded in pulling Mac a few feet away, spinning him around to face him. "What the hell are you doing?"
"My job!" Mac yelled, jerking free of his roommate's hold. "I'm doing my damn job, Bozer. You should try it sometime."
"So your job is to beat the crap out of people now?" Bozer's face reflected both hurt and incredulity. "Threatening to blow up federal agents?"
"It wasn't a threat." Mac said it loud enough that Morgan heard him. He actually turned and started back towards the gawking group, appreciating the fact they were now reevaluating everything they'd read about him in their neat little files. But Bozer caught the back of his shirt and held him back. Truthfully, the confession had surprised Mac a little and although he was fairly certain he'd never use his knowledge of explosives to actually take a life, he was a little shaken by all the ways he quickly conjured for disposing of Morgan without anyone being the wiser.
"Have you lost your mind?" Bozer raised both his hands in the air as if he were dealing with a mad man when Mac finally turned and glowered at him. "This is insane!"
"This is my life, Bozer!" Mac took a step towards his best friend, hands clenched at his side. His face was throbbing painfully in time with his pounding heart. He could practically feel his eye swelling shut. For the life of him Mac could not recall one time in all the years of knowing Bozer that he'd ever been anything more than a little irritated or miffed at the guy. No one rarely got mad at Bozer. He was pretty much the quintessential nice guy of all nice guys. It made the revelation that Mac wanted nothing more than to drive his point home with a well-placed fist to his best friend's face all that more sobering. He settled for seething. "Not a game! Not a movie! Not some fun hobby to try on like you might one of your masks. This. Is. My. Life. Jack's life."
"A life you brought me into!" Bozer surprised Mac by firing right back, stepping toe to toe with him, presumably just as pissed as Mac. Resurrected betrayal shone on his face. It was like the night Murdoc had ransacked their home all over again. Like Mac had blindsided Bozer instead of Morgan. "In case you have forgotten, you're the one who invited me in and I didn't have a whole lot of choice in accepting the offer."
"Believe me." Mac raked both hands through his hair, trying to get his breathing under control right along with his runaway emotions. Bozer's well placed point was like a bucket of cold water. If Mac was going to dish out blame, he couldn't exactly skip his own portion. "I haven't forgotten my part in all of this."
"Mac!" Riley's voice doused the last of Mac's ire. He turned his gaze to their hacker and Jack, who had been swarmed by several EMT's along with local police cars and a curious crowd of bystanders while Mac had been otherwise indisposed. Riley had maintained her place at his side, just as Mac had asked. "They're getting ready to take him. Are you going?" The one hand propped on her hip, the fractional tilt of the head, and a deep frown let Mac know Bozer wasn't the only one who was completely thrown by his actions. Of course knowing Riley, she might have been equally pissed he hadn't let her get in on the action. "Or should I?"
"No." Mac jogged over to where his still unconscious partner, now sporting a neck brace and an I.V., was resting on a stretcher. He trusted Riley, but it was his job, and his job alone, to watch out for Jack. "I'm going with him."
Riley was biting her lip, her dark eyes brighter than usual as she regarded Mac with an unsure glance. "You're bleeding."
"I'm fine." Mac wiped a hand under his nose, barely noticing the streak of red left on his arm. Riley continued to regard him as if he were suddenly a stranger, as if the words he'd spoken were somewhat ridiculous.
"We'll meet you at the hospital." She reached for Mac's hand, offering the same reassurance he had to her earlier, going so far as to place his palm over Jack's lax fingers. When she met Mac's gaze, her eyes had softened. Mac felt a rush of affection he imagined siblings sometimes felt when they weren't competing with or trying to kill one another, a connection and deep appreciation for the only other person who might love and need Jack almost as much as he did. Almost. "Whatever you do, just hold on to him."
Her words were different, reframed in a more hopeful light, without so much the desperation perhaps Mac had expressed earlier, but the sentiment was the same. Keep him with us.
"I will." Mac nodded, finding it hard to swallow around the lump that had sprung to his throat. "I promise."
Mac had kept his vow to Riley during the entire trip to Uniklinikum Eppendorf. It was one of the biggest hospitals in the area, one, Matty had assured him when he'd called her en route , known for its above par trauma unit. Even when the medics had not been pleased with his proximity, Mac insisted they work around him, refusing to be far from his partner's side. He was insistent he needed to maintain some contact. It was possibly irrational, and garnered him a critical look from the men working on Jack. Maybe they thought Mac's brain had been a bit scrambled considering the obvious injuries to his face, but Mac feared if he let go, Jack might slip away, as if by meager touch he could somehow tether his partner. The medic treating Jack was less annoyed with Mac's presence after Jack woke briefly, in pain and fighting. Mac wasn't sure his best friend was truly conscious, but he'd said Mac's name, although muffled by the oxygen mask they'd put over his mouth and nose, and it was Mac's voice that calmed him, that stilled his struggles until he slipped once more into a non-responsive state.
That had been more than an hour ago and now Mac was forced to watch Jack disappear down the long corridor of the hospital, where no amount of arguing or obstinacy was going to gain him entry. Jack was headed for surgery and although Mac had been allowed into the trauma bay nothing short of a medical degree would keep Mac by his side in the OR.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there in the curtained off area numbly holding the bag of personal affects he'd been handed. There wasn't much some loose change, Jack's smashed cell phone. They rarely carried anything that could identify them while on a job. But there was the St. Jude medal that Jack always wore. Mac gripped it in his hand as he slowly made his way back to the waiting area. Riley and Bozer had arrived at some point and swarmed Mac as he exited. No one had taken much notice of him in the examination area as they worked on Jack, or maybe it was Mac who'd blocked the staff out. It was a skill he'd picked up years ago, being present, but also invisible.
"Mac?" Riley interrupted his mental exile, her firm stance in front of him along with her questioning gaze paramount to tossing a bucket of red paint on the Invisible Man. "What's happening? How is he?"
Mac blinked, clearing his throat as he looked from their hacker to Bozer, who was standing just behind her. He shoved Jack's chain in his pocket, giving a slight shrug. "They just took him down to surgery."
"Surgery?" Bozer's voice went up an octave, alarm widening his eyes. "That can't be good."
"There was internal bleeding." Mac started to run a hand through his hair, only to realize he was still holding a cold pack that one of the nurses had handed him for his eye. It was slightly warm now, Mac never having used it. He tossed it in a close receptacle. "I got bits and pieces of German as the medical staff conversed with one another but when they spoke to me it was in English and I think they left out some specifics. Maybe a ruptured spleen."
"But he's going to be okay? Right?" Riley had gone a bit pale. She was biting her lip once more, a tell that Mac had cataloged early on as a sign she was struggling to keep her walls firmly in place.
"They assured me a doctor would talk with us soon." Mac shook off his own feelings of uncertainty. He understood Bozer and Riley were often spared this aspect of their job, not as accustomed as Mac to the torturous time anxiously anticipating news. Admittedly Mac was often on the other end of the spectrum, the one who tended to be injured but he'd also logged his time in the trenches of the forsaken waiting room. "More than likely, it may be a while."
"How about we go grab some coffee?" Bozer suggested, with a hopeful glance from Mac to Riley and back to Mac where it held.
Mac shook his head, rubbing at a trace of dried blood below his lip. "I don't want to leave. I'm listed as Jack's next of kin. I need to be here."
Bozer touched Riley's shoulder. "Then how about we go. Find some food, too. We missed that breakfast Mac promised us."
"I could use some coffee if you guys are going." Mac wanted Bozer to know he appreciated his attempt to do something productive. It wasn't in Bozer's nature to be patient and giving Riley a task would keep her mind from drifting to all the worst case scenarios. Mac had those covered. "I'll call Matty back with an update."
One look around the room which was almost completely empty on the early Sunday morning and Riley didn't argue the opportunity to leave the sad, lonely space. Mac might have taken a walk himself if for no other reason to escape the clinical coldness if he weren't afraid someone might come for him.
"We'll bring you something back," Riley assured before following after Bozer. Mac didn't miss the fact his friend slid an arm around the young woman's shoulder, an offer of shelter Riley didn't refuse, as she caught up to him. The worst situations often cast the people we thought we knew and understood in different lights, bringing either appreciation or in some cases trepidation.
"The only thing I need is news on Jack." Mac's reply was soft and went unheard by Riley or anyone else for that matter. He looked longingly at the door he'd just come through once more before pulling the St. Jude pendant from his pocket and slipping the chain over his head. Mac tucked the silver charm beneath his shirt before heading for the seat in the far corner but still in sight of the nurse's station. It would give him the privacy he needed to call Matty and not risk anything confidential being overheard. He had a feeling she was going to have a lot to say considering when Mac had spoken to her last she had been informed of an urgent incoming call from the Foreign Affairs Directorate of the NSA. Mac blew out a long breath, his thumb hovering over the call button, his other hand going through his hair. He winced when his fingers brushed one of the puffy bruises close to his black eye.
The phone call didn't last long and was mostly one sided. Mac had just hung up from the grueling chewing out, that he assumed was somewhat tempered considering Matty was concerned for Jack and maybe even more worried about Mac after hearing the report on how he'd attacked and threatened a DIA agent, when familiar red Nike's appeared in his line of vision. Mac looked up from his study of the floor to find Bozer standing over him, a Styrofoam cup in one hand, what looked like a Franzbrotchen in the other.
"Here." Bozer held the buttery, cinnamon and sugar wrapped pastry in front of Mac, offering a slight grin that spoke to the truce he was presenting in the form of one of Germany's most famous indulgences.
"Where's Riley?" Mac wondered if their hacker had strongly suggested Bozer make an effort to patch things up. He took the warm bread, remembering with a half grin of his own that their friendship had begun in much the same way. Mac had even been sporting a recent black eye then as well, only they'd both been boys, and Bozer had offered a pudding cup. That day Mac had been facing another solo lunch in the cafeteria, not the daunting prospect of once more being left by someone he loved, but still he felt an echo of the same gratitude he had that long ago day. Maybe this was a fresh start for a new facet of their friendship as teammates.
"She went to get her rig out of the van, wanting something to do I guess." Bozer gestured to the sweet roll. "You owe me five Euros."
"Actually we're even." Mac set the coffee on the floor beside him, unwrapping the pastry. His stomach responded with a rumble even though he felt no real desire to eat, not when Jack was being sliced open somewhere in the hospital. "I paid for those pretzels you and Jack just had to have last night."
"Those were worth every penny or whatever you call the German equivalent to a penny." Bozer claimed the seat by Mac, obviously taking the chit chat as a sign Mac was no longer pissed at him. "My man, Jack, knows his delicacies."
"You have no idea." Mac snorted. He pinched off a bite, tossing it into his mouth. He wasn't sure if he was still mad at Bozer, but he was too tired and too worried about Jack to put much energy into analyzing his feelings. "Jack has a favorite food in every country we've ever been too, and a favorite beer."
"He was going to share his expertise at Pyrate's tonight." Bozer's grin faded along with some of the enthusiasm Mac knew he'd mustered for his benefit. He slumped a little in his chair. "I'm guessing he might not be so inclined to buy me a drink after all this."
"This," Mac waved a hand, deciding he wasn't angry at his oldest friend anymore, had no right to be in the first place. "Is not your fault." He met his roommate's gaze, sorry he'd ever insinuated as much. "Jack won't blame you for him being hurt. He was doing his job, keeping his team safe. It's who Jack is."
"It's not really Jack I'm worried about blaming me. The man loves my food too much to hold a grudge for very long, and I've come to realize Jack is more huff and puff than right out claws and teeth." Bozer gave Mac a pointed look, all teasing gone. "I know you think I messed up, Mac, and you're right, but you have to know I never expected any of this to happen."
"What was that you said earlier about expectations?" Mac put the pastry aside, dusting sugar and cinnamon from his fingers. He turned to face Bozer full on, his bruised ribs protesting the twisting motion. "I blame myself for this. You were right when you said I brought you into this life. Dragged you in is probably a better description. Then I left you floundering. It wasn't fair of me to just assume you'd merely adapt, that the team would just reshape around you without any effort just because I wanted it to happen."
"I love being a part of the team." Bozer sighed, his gaze moving to the few people across the large room and then back to his best friend. "It's just that sometimes I'm not sure what part I'm supposed to play."
"I know." Mac believed that's where he'd failed both Bozer and Jack. He sighed again, resting his elbows on his knees, ignoring the painful pull of his abused abs. "I was so desperate to find a way to pull you into the fold so you wouldn't be completely shut out, to make right all the chaos my lies caused, that I didn't really define exactly what you would bring to the table."
"Does that mean you want to dismiss me from dinner all together?" Bozer's voice was quiet, carefully void of any emotions.
"No, that's not what I'm saying." Mac rubbed at a spot of dried blood on his pants, briefly wondering if ti was his or Jack's. "I just need you to understand your place. We all have one, and no one else can fill it." He glanced up, searching Bozer's eyes. "Riley is the best hacker I've ever seen, and Jack does good to send a document to print. There's no way those two could be interchangeable. Just like I couldn't begin to be the artist that you are. No mask I'd make would fool anyone."
"Sort of like how I'm not cut out to be the field agent that you are." Bozer leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I don't exactly fit the James Bond mold, even if I do look killer in a tux."
"It's not exactly as easy as it looks in the movies. Slipping into the right clothes doesn't make the man." Mac held his best friend's gaze. "I worked years to learn the skills I use on missions. Even before I came to DXS, I had training that, though I didn't realize it at the time, was prepping me to be the agent I am today. It's not that my talents are any better than yours, Boze, it's just that I'm better suited to deal with the bad guys in the way Jack and I are accustomed to dealing with them."
"So where does that leave me?"Bozer sat up.
"You…well, you make sure we have what we need when we go out in the field." A fleeting grin crossed Mac's face. "You're like Alfred."
"Alfred?" Bozer's eyebrows shot up. "Bruce Wayne's butler?"
"Batman's secret weapon." Mac reframed. "Who do you think was always supplying Batman and Robin with all their cool gadgets, and helping to keep their true identities safe?" Mac continued on when his friend continued to look affronted. "Your intricate disguises and knowledge of every movie plot and character known to modern cinema gives us an upper hand in a job that is basically a big stage set with protagonists and antagonists playing out countless action scenes to resolve some sort of conflict."
"I'm feeling you." Bozer's face lit up as he rubbed his hands together. "You're saying I'm like the Christian Bales Alfred, if Alfred was young, black, and badass. In the movie adaptation I'd be played by Shemar Moore, only with slush molds."
"Okay." Mac shook his head. He wasn't sure who Shemar Moore was but if he helped Bozer realize his unique contribution to their team Mac had no problem signing on. "Whatever you say, as long as you realize that there was a reason Alfred didn't gear up when the Bat Signal went out."
"I hear what you're saying, Mac." Some of Bozer's enthusiasm disappeared beneath a more serious regard. He glanced from Mac's battered hands to his bruised and swollen face. "And it's cool, because after today, I'm pretty sure I'm more of a behind the scenes kind of guy instead of a man of action."
Mac's gaze followed Bozer's. He carefully bent his fingers, the bruised and broken skin pulling painfully. He suddenly felt the need to explain, or at least try to put his earlier exploits from today in perspective. "I hope you know I wouldn't kill someone….I mean, I have killed people," Mac fumbled, not used to talking about the darker sides of his work, especially with Bozer, "But only when there was absolutely no other choice."
"I'm pretty sure there is always a choice."
"Today there was." Mac flexed his fist, feeling the echo of aching knuckles. "But that's not always the case, not when you want to stay alive and it's either you or them, or worse, them or someone you love." Mac slid a hand through his hair, unsure of how to explain something he still had a hard time accepting for himself. Some days, the truth was he still struggled with his time in Afghanistan, some of the atrocities he'd seen, the missions he'd been part of. All the death. "When I joined the Army, I went in thinking about ways I could help keep soldiers safe, how I could use my intellect to improve things. I never really gave much thought about becoming a soldier myself, how it might change me, how it might conflict with all the things I'd thought true and resolute about myself."
"Like the no violence thing?" Bozer shook his head as if he had been chewing on the words for a while. Mac suspected Bozer held back on a lot of things he wanted to say, especially when Mac had first come back from combat. "Mac, you used to take spiders out of the house instead of killing them, you once relocated a nest of bees off the deck instead of gassing it."
"Bozer, I still take spiders out of the house, and bees are crucial to the environment." Mac felt his frustration rising, hating that he felt like he had to justify actions he'd taken. "No spider I've known has tried to blow me up, or gun down one of my brothers in the desert. When you depend on a person to survive, when they are counting on you for the same, you find that lines you once saw as perfectly and absolutely clear can blur. Sometimes they disappear altogether and all you can do is fight, fight for what is yours and what you want to hold onto."
"Like today?"
"Today I was angry and I wanted that asshole Morgan to know he'd messed with the wrong people."
"There was a time when you'd just put a stink bomb in the guy's car." Bozer took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh as he leaned back in his seat. "Maybe rig some elephant toothpaste mixture to fill his office, then laugh it off."
"When I can take lesser measures and effectively do the job, then I do." Mac gave his friend a guilty glance, though it had more to do with how much of himself Mac had held back from his best friend since Afghanistan than it did any remorse he felt for what he'd done to Morgan. The lie of what Mac did for a living was the much smaller deception compared to the completely different side of himself that Mac kept secret, letting Bozer believe he was still the same idealistic guy he'd always been. "But Jack is my partner," Mac hesitated, "more than that, he's my brother, and I have a responsibility to do whatever it is in my power to keep him alive, to defend him if he's been hurt. If necessary, I'd kill for him, and I won't apologize for that. Not to anyone. Not even you, Boze."
"I don't need an apology, man. Especially not for something like sticking up for family. That I get, even when it catches me off guard and I might not agree with the way you go about it." Bozer surprised Mac by offering him a more genuine smile. "Honestly, I'm just glad you didn't light into me with your Jack Dalton's School of Kick Ass arsenal."
"I didn't learn all my moves from Jack." Mac lifted a brow. "If I remember right another kid I once knew punched a guy twice his size right in the nose for giving his best friend a hard time, and then took the time to give that best friend lessons on how to throw the perfect haymaker for himself."
"I suppose even us behind the scenes guys can have our moments of action." Bozer threw a couple of punches in the air. "Maybe we can tell Jack I got in a few good licks with that giant DIA agent. I mean as long as Matty doesn't hear about it and decide I need to talk to Oversight and all."
Mac rubbed a finger over his not swollen eye, snorting at Bozer's fear of all things Oversight and the possibility of losing his place as teacher's pet. "I think the best way for you to impress Jack is to actually follow his orders to the letter. The next time he gives you an assignment, just do it. No questions asked."
"Like you do?" Bozer frowned at Mac.
"I might have leeway now seeing as how I've been his partner for five years, but you forget I was once under the man's command." Mac shook his head, remembering his time working with Delta. He and Jack were well-matched in stubbornness and determination, which did not always make for an easy time of things. "If you think Jack is hard to deal with now, you should have seen him in combat. There was no messing around. He had one mission and that was to keep his team safe. To keep me safe. In that way, Jack hasn't mellowed very much."
"Mellowed?" Bozer snorted. "In the field the man is about as mellow as Rambo."
"All the more reason for you to take my advice." Mac nodded to his roommate. "Trust me when I say I learned the hard way not to take Jack's orders lightly."
"You're probably right." Bozer let his hands rest in his lap once more. "I should try and make a mends, be the one to buy the beers at Pyrate's when Jack gets out of here and we get to have our boy's night out on the Reeperbahn."
"Beer and food are the way to Jack's heart." The talk of his partner had Mac looking toward the nurse's station again. The relief he felt at having set things straight with Bozer was temporarily overshadowed by the gnawing worry that he'd not get the same chance with his partner.
"He's going to be fine, Mac." Bozer spoke up, seeming to follow his morose line of thinking. "Because even though being willing to kill for each other is cool and all in a Band of Brothers and Sons of Anarchy sort of way, surviving for each other is really what I've come to believe what you two are good at. I think it's why you can pull off the impossible missions that you do. It's why Jack will pull through being hit by a truck."
"Thanks, Bozer." Mac was as surprised at the thoughtful insight, as he was touched by the truth of his roommate's words.
"Besides, Jack's not going to pass up the opportunity to play the hero telling everyone at Phoenix, especially Matty, how he saved the day by pushing me out of the way of that sinister food truck," Bozer added, sounding much more like himself. Mac couldn't deny that both sentiments would likely prove equally true when it came to Jack. He was both completely loyal and a terrible showoff when he had the chance.
"Any word yet?" Riley interrupted any comment Mac might have made as she returned with her back pack to claim the seat on the other side of Bozer.
"Nothing." Mac retrieved his coffee from beside his foot, taking the drink to have something to do with his hands more than eager for a shot of caffeine.
"Then we'll just have to keep ourselves entertained." Riley stood and gestured for Bozer to switch places with her, taking the seat in between the two men. "Who's up for a really intense interrogation scene with some spicy dialogue?"
"What movie is it?" Bozer asked, always up for a cinematic distraction. "Tell me you managed to get a bootleg copy of Dead Men Tell no Tales."
"Oh, it's not a movie." Riley flipped open the lap top, tapping a few keys. She unwrapped her earbuds, plugging them in before handing one to Bozer, one to Mac. "It's something better. Matty sent me a recording of the video chat she had with the NSA dicks that jumped our operation. Cursed pirates have got nothing on our boss." Riley looked at Mac and grinned . "She said next time spare yourself the bruises, and a long debriefing with Oversight by leaving all ball busting to her." Riley hit play. "I can't wait to show this to Jack when he wakes up."
Mac had no doubt that their Director had done a thorough job of doling out a tongue lashing that might have made the NSA suits wish they'd been forced to walk the plank, but he'd not be satisfied with any retribution until he was certain his partner was on the mend. Despite his nagging worry that Jack might not get to see Matty the Hun in all her glory, Mac forced a smile for Riley. He offered her the rest of his discarded pastry and settled in with his team for the show.
RcJ
"You should have seen it Jack," Mac said, fidgeting in the chair he'd pulled next to his partner's bed. He was quite sure there was some kind of conspiracy about the design of hospital furniture, rendering it all uncomfortable. "Some of the words she used I don't even think Navy guys would have known. I'm not sure some of Matty's suggestions to the director were even anatomically possible, but I wouldn't want to be the guy to call her on it."
Mac took Jack's hand, careful of the I.V. and gripped it. He'd been allowed to sit with Jack after his partner was settled in ICU. The surgery had gone well and the doctor had informed Mac, Riley and Bozer that in general Jack's condition was quite remarkable considering he'd been run down by a truck.
"Only you could walk away from something like this with a few broken ribs, a hair line fracture to the femur and a broken arm." Mac smiled at his unresponsive partner. "The doctors are a little worried about the concussion seeing as how you haven't regained consciousness, but I told them that your head is made from the same stuff that forged Wolverine from the X-men and a mere windshield isn't about to do any permanent damage." Mac licked his lips, staring at Jack pleadingly. His gaze moved over Jack's pale face. "Still, if you'd wake up soon, my expertise on all things Jack Dalton might be taken a little more seriously. You're starting to scare Riley and Bozer who don't know you the way I do."
Mac studied the machines around his partner, the monitors reflecting the same readouts they had the last twenty or so times Mac had studied them. He tried not to let his mind go to where it always went when he was in a hospital, but sometimes it was like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. Jack's form easily blurred into the decimated image of Mac's mom, his partner's warm, sturdy hand giving way to the cold, stiff fingers of death Mac could not forget from the last time he'd touched his mother. "If I'm honest, you're starting to worry me a little bit as well, because this is starting to feel like Iraq all over again and we both know I didn't do the greatest in that situation."
If Mac hadn't been a stalwart scientist, there were times when he'd been certain that Jack had some kind of internal sensor that alarmed when Mac was on the fast track to peril. A supernatural connection that lit up like the Aurora Borealis whenever Mac needed him to rush in for the save. His logical nature scoffed at such an idea, but the hand suddenly returning pressure to his was only more irrefutable proof that Jack's determination to spare Mac pain might just exist outside the realm of explanation.
"Jack?" Mac rose from the chair, leaning over the bed rail. "Can you hear? Are you with me?"
"Mac?" The name came before Jack even had his eyes open.
"I'm here." Mac knew exactly what the next question was going to be and was quick to provide the answer. "I'm fine. Everyone is good, well except for you."
"Where…" Jack asked hoarsely. He managed to crack his eyes half open, looking from Mac to the room around them before giving a resigned sigh. "Hospital."
"Good guess." Mac gave a grin that made his face hurt. "I'd like to say you ended up here after a raucous night of celebrating too hard on the Reeperbahn but that's not exactly how the story unfolds."
"Food truck with the bad guys," Jack muttered, his eyes closing once more before they suddenly reopened widely and the grip on Mac's hand became almost painful. The steady beeping of the heart monitor increased. "Bozer?"
"Bozer's okay." Mac's smile faltered a bit and he struggled to maintain his lackadaisical facade. "He feels a bit like he was tackled by Dallas's best linebacker but the alternative would have been far worse."
"We have got to get him off the yoga mat and into the gym more." Jack blinked, working hard to maintain a focus on Mac, before glaring accusingly at the I.V. line. "What the hell are they giving me?"
"The good stuff for which you should be grateful." Mac smirked, knowing if he left it to Jack, they'd skip over his condition all together. He let go of his partner's hand, reclaiming his seat by the bed. He crossed his arms on the bed rail, arching a brow at his best friend. "Don't you even want to know what organs you lost this time around and what all you've broken and displaced?"
"I'm more worried about what happened to your face." Jack frowned, blinking again. "Are you okay? Whose ass do I kick?"
"This is nothing." Mac waved a hand towards his face, knowing that the damage looked far worse than it was. One eye was pretty much swollen shut and he had a spectacular bruise on his cheek, a nasty cut on his lip, but he'd had far worse. "You should see the other guy."
"No computer hacker did that." Jack was like a dog with a bone. He tried to use his one good arm to push himself up in the bed, wincing when pain must have made it through the thick fog of opiates he'd been complaining about earlier. He coughed, wincing at the strain the action must have put on his battered ribs. "Last thing I remember…you were tangled up with one of our marks."
"This came from one of our DIA claim jumpers." Mac was quick to hold up a hand when Jack's face immediately twisted in a grimace which had nothing to do with physical discomfort. "But before you go all Papa Bear on me, Agent Morgan needed a hospital run, or so his director informed Matty. Besides, it's going to be a while before you're up to any kind of brawl."
"How bad?" Jack asked, glancing down at the sling strapped across his chest. Mac wondered if his partner had finally gotten the good sense to be worried about himself or he was merely calculating just when he might be able to address Morgan for himself. If pressed, Mac would have gone the ladder.
"You lost your spleen, but like you told me back in the Sand Box it's pretty much an optional organ. One a guy should always opt to keep if he could, but shouldn't be broken up too bad over the fact he lost it."
Jack's mouth twitched, his eyes blinking close for a moment. "I guess you do listen to me sometimes."
Mac white-knuckled the railing of the hospital bed. "You were in surgery for a few hours. We've been in recovery for almost two."
"About typical." Jack refocused, although it seemed to Mac a great struggle. He even attempted a grin. "As long as I didn't' lose anything vital, like my sex appeal or more of my hair."
"Your arm was a clean break, the fracture to your leg not so bad." Mac tried to keep his voice light as he accounted for all the injuries. He let go of the rail, absently bending and flexing his right hand. "Ribs are going to hurt like hell for a while and you're now moving into the double digits of concussions which really makes me think I need to cook up some kind of helmet for you in the lab."
"We both know my skull is made of that stuff running through Wolverine's body, brother." Jack looked a bit worried when Mac ducked his head with a slight chuckle that may or may not have sounded a bit like a choked back sob. "What?"
"That's what I told the doctor…" Mac was caught off guard when his voice broke slightly, when all the fear he'd had from before suddenly resurfaced and was assuredly reflected in his gaze. "But I…when you didn't wake up and you were unconscious at the scene…" Mac cleared his throat, forcing another smirk. "Let's just say, I wasn't sure your mutant immortal status was going to prove true."
"Dude, I've been shot, stabbed, blown up and tortured on three…"
"Continents." Mac shook his head, not needing or wanting a low down on all the ways his partner had suffered. "I know, man. It's just you scared me this time. That's all."
"Sorry, Kid." Jack held Mac's gaze, albeit a bit bleary. "Last thing I want is to make you think I'm going to run out on you."
"I'm the one who should be apologizing, Jack." Mac exhaled slowly, working to get his emotions back in check.
"For what, brother?" Jack shot Mac a puzzled look. "Running your face into some blockhead's fist while I wasn't around to watch your back?"
Mac's mouth twitched, despite the heavy weight of responsibility weighing him down. "For what happened with Bozer at the beginning of the mission." And, Mac thought, for not talking to Jack about bringing Bozer on the team. For just assuming he'd be okay with it and make it work, even though he should have had a say in the whole thing before Mac even took the idea to Thornton, let alone offered the position to Bozer.
"Dude, I should have had Bozer stay in the van with Riley." Jack waited for Mac to look at him. "Matty might have sent him with us, but that was my call."
"I know you're trying to make this work. I also know it's not ideal and you've held back on saying as much."
"Just because something's not easy doesn't mean it's not right." Jack smirked, relaxing a bit more into the pillow. "I remember thinking having a fresh-faced EOD working with my unit was a sucky idea. Look how that turned out."
"I'm not Bozer." Mac rolled his eyes.
"Thank God, because as much as I love you, man, my heart just couldn't handle two MacGyvers."
"I'm being serious."
"Me, too., brother." Jack closed his eyes for a second and Mac wondered if he should get a nurse, if he should have waited instead of launching into a whole conversation to make himself feel better. Jack nudged his hand, and when Mac returned his gaze from the door, the older agent gave him a half grin. "A good team just doesn't gel-up after a few weeks. You know that, bud. We didn't sync with Nikki in the beginning. Riley took a while to find her groove."
"Speaking of rough patches, I did punch you in the face after only a couple of missions together." Mac lifted his bruised fist. "It was a bit like hitting that dickhead Morgan, although a little more satisfying since you went down like a lightweight."
"In my defense, I had been shot." Jack looked like he was once more having trouble keeping his eyes open and focused. "We had an understanding after that."
"It's probably a good thing I don't carry a gun because I might have considered a different kind of understanding with Morgan. He was only concerned about the hard drive."
"Did we get that?"
Mac snorted, surprised that hadn't been Jack's second question after finding out the team was okay. "We did. Mission accomplished."
"Then we're all good." Jack nodded at Mac. "Another win for Team Phoenix."
"It could have been a big loss for Phoenix." For Mac it could have been so much worse. He might have lost the only family he had left. He wrapped his hands around the rail again, gripping it tight. "You and Bozer could have been killed."
"No 'what if's', brother." Jack's face grew serious, his eyes opening wider as he worked hard to hold Mac's gaze with determined resolve. "Don't go there."
"I know." Mac understood his partner's warning. A man could be twisted worse by running all the things that 'didn't' happen through his head than he could by replaying what had actually taken place. He held Jack's gaze. "But I still want to thank you for saving Bozer."
"I was doing my job," Jack was quick to declare. Mac knew that was in part true. Jack's complete focus could be narrowed down to protecting those around him. He was wired for it. It was instinct and training to some degree, but Mac understood a great deal of his partner's dedication to saving others had to do with his big Texas-sized heart. Jack proved Mac's point by adding. "And, you're not the only one who loves the guy."
"You love his French toast." Mac teased, appreciating that Jack had easily accepted Bozer as one of his own from that first time Mac had convinced him to come to California for Thanksgiving, even if he was quite possibly the farthest thing from the buddies Jack was used to. "And his Pastrami."
"Let's not forget his cornbread, which might rival my Nana's." Jack arched a brow. "But that won't stop me from whooping his ass if he doesn't learn to follow a damn order."
"I'm pretty sure he's learned his lesson about that, even if he's still a little unsure about his place. He's planning on making a mends by paying you back in beer and food."
"I can live with that." Jack yawned, his eyes closing on their own. He forced them open once more. "Besides, as long as me and you understand where we stand, bud, it's all good."
"I thought that was made pretty clear that first time I knocked you flat."
"Ha ha." Jack waved a finger between them, looking like he was about to finally lose the battle to stay awake. "Just because I have showed amazing restraint all these years doesn't mean I won't black that other eye for you."
"I know where we stand, Jack." Mac held up a hand in truce, still grinning even when Jack conceded defeat to the good drugs. Mac waited until his partner's breath evened out before he reclaimed his seat and his grip on Jack's hand. Mac might have played off what Jack was saying, but Mac was struck by the wisdom of his partner's observation. Their partnership had survived combat, Nikki's death, resurrection, betrayal, and confusing return as well as Thornton's painful duplicity. Not to mention bringing Riley and Bozer into the fold as well as having Matilda Webber thrust into their mix. They were a team. More like a motley family. Unlike Bozer, who might have still been figuring it all out, Mac had never been more certain of where he belonged.
The End...for now