Delay of Game

by Gib

Companion piece to Game On but can be read as a stand alone. Just me playing with Army Mac and Jack.

This is a companion piece/loose continuation of Game On. It can be read as a stand alone.

Thanks to Dlwells51 for giving this a once over and a huge shout out to Objessions who really got into this and wrote all the best parts. Me, I'm an action junkie with a vocabulary that seems to be disappearing. Objessions speaks Gib, she interpreted what I was trying to say and made it that much better. :-)

Warnings: An explosion and some military stuff that could be a trigger for some. And a few cuss words here and there.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Definitions:

FOB - Forward Operating Base

MOA - Minute of Angle (it's a shooting thing)

TOC - Tactical Operations Center

CAS - Close Air Support

VBIED - Vehicle Born IED

0-0-0

Jack blew a puff of air, dislodging the fly that had landed on his scope. "Come on, Mac, if you could have any superpower, what would it be?"

Mac sighed, as he stood up, tucking the thin metal probing rod back in his vest. "Jack, for the seventh time, there's no such thing as having superpowers." Mac sidestepped into the open, looking in the general direction Jack had set up to provide overwatch and waved at the pile of material he had just inspected.

"I'm done here, just another pile of garbage somebody buried," he said, unintentionally letting some of his fatigue creep into his voice.

The slope of his shoulders told Jack the kid was either legitimately done in, or maybe bummed out. Come to think of it, if he didn't know better, Jack would have thought Mac was disappointed he didn't find any explosives. As it was, Jack was more than happy it was just trash. He wiped the grit from his eyes before taking one last look through the scope.

"Well, that's good news; head back to the truck, I'll be down in a sec."

Jack grunted as he sat up, squatting on his knees, quickly collapsing the bi-pod rest on his rifle, never taking his eyes off of Mac's position.

"But seriously dude, not a single superpower floats your boat?"

Jack stood holding the rifle loosely against his shoulder and watched Mac as he headed toward the hummer.

"I mean come on man, it's a superpower. Who wouldn't want a superpower?"

Mac grasped the door handle and looked to where Jack would be coming from, knowing the operator wouldn't leave his position until he was sure Mac was safe and sound inside the vehicle. "Fine." He sighed, relenting to Jack's incessant jabbering. A line formed across his forehead as he actually gave the question serious thought. After a moment, he answered. "I wouldn't necessarily pick a single 'superpower' as you put it, but if I had to be a superhero, I'd pick the Hulk." Mac tossed his pack between the seats and climbed in with a huff.

Jack laughed as he exited the building, rifle held at the ready, eyes scanning every nook, cranny, window, and rooftop as he slowly made his way toward the humvee. "The Hulk … Really? Why on earth would you pick the Hulk? I mean he is kind of a badass but…" Jack stopped and raised his rifle, aiming at a second story window. There was movement there...Jack went completely still for a moment.

Mac inched down in his seat slightly, getting as comfortable as it was possible in the hard backed seat and oven-like cab. "What's wrong with the Hulk? Bruce Banner was a brilliant scientist." Mac watched Jack freeze and then start to make his way toward their truck a moment later.

It was the same routine he'd watched hundreds of times. If anyone were listening to their comms, they would think that Jack's head wasn't in the game. All his constant chatter about random topics, how could anyone concentrate on their job?

But Jack was an expert-level, master chatterer. He could literally carry on a conversation about the silliest things while hitting his marks in a gunfight. At first it was like having the world's most annoying gnat in his ear, but after a while, Mac had become used to it. Mac gave a wry little shake of his head. He would never admit it, but Jack's incessant chatter had turned into a weird kind of security blanket.

Jack lowered his rifle, deciding to let the flapping curtain live another day and continued toward the truck. "Right; I should have figured you'd pick the science geek." He smiled as he jogged across the small street, picking up the conversation once again. "Me, I was expecting you to pick an actual power … like a laser beam or something. You know, shoots out of your eyes or chest or something … there's a dude that does that right?"

Mac's eyes did an almost involuntary roll. "Jack, lasers aren't even a good weapon."

Jack walked toward the hummer, scanning the rooftops, performing slow pirouettes to check behind and to both sides as he kept moving toward the truck.
"Not a good weapon, huh? What about lightsabers? Can't tell me those aren't cool."

Mac also scanned the rooftops and windows while Jack moved. He might not carry a gun but as long as he could be a second set of eyes for Jack, the Delta operator had a better chance of defending him and making it to safety. "First of all, they're some sort of Jedi mind crystal thing, not just a laser, and second of all, if I'm going to have to pick a power, it's got to be at least remotely viable."

This time Jack's eyes rolled, and it was worthy of an annoyed middle schooler being told about an early curfew. "Viable?" Jack opened the driver's door, leaned in and looked at a slightly annoyed Mac. "It's a super power, dude. Laser eyeballs would be cool." Jack set the long rifle between the seats, pulled the M-4 around to his front and ducked out of the sling, stowing the rifle within easy reach as he climbed in. "You gotta give me that. Hell, Superman's got em," he said smiling like he'd won the debate as he adjusted his gear and started the truck.

Mac leaned slightly out his window, checking the rear before Jack pulled away from the building. "Light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation isn't what everyone thinks it is from the movies," he said, settling back into his seat.

Jack's brow furrowed, "Light amplification by …" He leaned forward over the steering wheel looking up through the windshield, checking the rooftops as they slowly made their way down the street. "Is that why they're called lasers?"

Mac was doing much the same, performing a continuous scan of their surroundings for any potential threats. "Well, yeah. What did you think it was?"

Jack shrugged, sitting back, "I thought it just sounded cool."

"Well, it does sound cool. And it's got quite a few uses, but getting the bad guys isn't probably going to be one of them. Not for a long time anyway." Mac sat back, getting more comfortable, now that they'd made it out of the town and were traveling down a well used road.

"No Superman laser eyes then?" Jack smirked, visibly relaxed.

Mac let out a small laugh, reaching back behind the seats, opening the lid of the small battery powered ice chest he'd pieced together from an old ammo can and some spare rover parts and grabbed two bottles of water. "Only if what Superman wanted to do was take really accurate measurements, or do some really fine, really close cutting work, or maybe drilling." He loosened the cap and handed Jack a water, then waved a hand in the air. "Even the U.S. military is years away from doing anything defense related with lasers. Eventually we might be able to use them to fry tracking systems on aircraft and drones, or even take out small drones, but even that … You'll be long gone from the Sandbox by the time that happens, Jack."

Jack finished opening the bottle with one hand while continuing to steer. "Oh, hell no I won't," he said taking a long pull from the cold bottle. "If I'm gonna get a laser gun, I'll stay in until they make me retire!" He pressed the palm of his hand to his eye trying to lessen the effects of the ice cold water on his sinuses.

Mac snickered. "You're probably looking at around 2020 before they even get close. And it won't be guns. It'll be ground-based systems run by the in-the-rear-with-the-gear-drinking-beer tech guys." Mac tipped his own open bottle at him matter of factly, "You won't be able to see the beam either." He took a small sip of the cold water, relishing the way it almost immediately seemed to lower the temperature in the Humvee. "Lasers aren't really like that. It will be an invisible defensive weapon. If it ever even happens. It's applications are actually quite limited. Especially because the tech is currently way too big to be any good to guys like us."

Jack sighed. "You could suck the fun right out of anything couldn't you? No laser guns. No superpowers. Weren't you ever a kid?" Jack glanced at Mac and held up a hand. "Never mind, don't answer that, you're still a damn kid." Jack shook his head. Mac wasn't necessarily the youngest person in the Army, hell it seemed like there was a new batch of eighteen year olds coming into the base every day, but damned if Mac didn't look like he still belonged in high school once all the military issue gear was removed and the layers of dust were washed off his face.

"I'm the kid who ran you into the ground yesterday morning, old man," Mac grinned.

Jack sent a not so intimidating glare at Mac, "Yeah, yeah. Just because you're part gazelle or something, and I'm dragging around an extra fifty pounds of muscle, dude." The wrinkle lines around his eyes became more pronounced as he grinned and shrugged. "I can kick your ass at like every other thing in the gym, brother."

Mac smirked. A slight exaggeration, but one he might let slide. Maybe.

"Whatever, Jack. I wouldn't call it fifty pounds of muscle." He took another sip of water. "Maybe like twenty pounds of muscle and thirty pounds of hot air," he laughed.

Jack set the water between his legs and turned, keeping one hand on the wheel, cocking his left arm back making a fist. "You just watch yourself there son, or I'll show you hot air," he said in a tone that was anything but a threat.

"You gonna just deck me every time I challenge you now, Jack?" Mac asked, suddenly serious. Jack threw him a worried look. He'd sort of forgotten clocking Mac one not too long ago, and he figured the kid had forgotten about it, too.

Then Mac just raised his eyebrows and laughed, making it clear that he'd just been screwing with his partner, and while the knock-out punch Jack had delivered when Mac decided to freelance instead of following orders was not forgotten, it was more or less forgiven. For the moment anyway.

Jack grinned as he settled back in his seat, taking another long pull of water, emptying the bottle and handing it to Mac.

Mac stuffed the empty bottle between the seat and the center console. "You want another one?"

Jack held up a hand. "Nah, I'm good."

Mac settled back in his seat and fiddled with his own water bottle, twisting the lid off and putting it back on repeatedly. It wasn't often, but every now and then when they were traveling back to the FOB, he could let his mind just sort of take a break for a while. The hum of the tires on the asphalt acted like a type of white noise for his brain. Even the constant chatter from the frequencies they were scanning on the radio seemed to fade away. It never lasted long. His partner was good at a lot of things, being quiet wasn't one of them.

"So, if you wouldn't want lasers … And I don't care what you say, you're no Hulk … You never even raise your voice … I can't see you …" Jack tried to decide how to put it.

"Daltoning out?" Mac asked with a grin.

"Dude, you're not avoiding the question by being mean to me. Come on man, take the Hulk out of it. Pick a superpower!"

Jack was not one to let stuff like this go, no matter how silly the conversation was, and he seemed more than an average amount of focused on it. "Okay, so you like the laser idea, even though it wouldn't work … hmmm … Being able to throw plasma would be pretty cool," he allowed.

"Plasma … like the blood kind?" Jack's face scrunched, disgusted. "Gross, dude."

Mac's mouth opened and shut, not sure how to answer and seriously trying to figure out how in the world Jack could think that throwing any bodily fluids was even remotely like a super power. He shook his head, slightly irritated that he was even considering why things like a blood product couldn't be something as non-existent as a superpower.

Mac's silence for an answer had Jack mentally searching for a different type of plasma he'd heard about and came up with the only thing he could think of with the word plasma in it. "Plasma like the TV?" Jack cocked an eyebrow.

Finally, Mac thought, something that was real. He could deal with that. "Sort of. Plasma is the fourth state of matter and it's the most abundant form of ordinary matter in the known universe." His hands started to become animated with his enthusiasm. It wasn't every day in his new job he got a chance to talk science. "Because of …" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the glossed over look Jack was giving him, obviously not following along.

When Mac stopped and dropped his hands to his lap, Jack knew he'd been caught. Sometimes he'd just let the kid keep on talking about science stuff because he knew it made him happy. Jack was usually able to keep up with most of the words that Mac was saying, like 'it, and, the' when he went full blown geek mode but it had been a long day and he was still trying get the picture of Mac throwing massive TV's as a superpower out of his head. Jack did a quick mental rewind and remembered something about what Mac was saying. "Matter like ..?" he asked instantly knowing he'd picked the right thing at the raised eyebrow expression he got in return.

"Did you ever go to chemistry or physics class, Jack?"

Jack grinned, never one to miss an opportunity to bring a bit of light heartedness to their current job, he laughed. "Sure, but there was this girl …"

"All your stories start out like that," Mac sighed, but it was almost a laugh.

Jack leaned back in the driver's seat visibly more relaxed as they moved down the road. "Just the good ones, if you know what I mean," he said with a grin and gave Mac's shoulder a friendly slap. "That's the only matter I was interested in."

Mac rolled his eyes. He sort of wished he had a few more 'there was this girl' stories of his own that didn't end with 'but she was so out of my league'. "Matter as in the stuff that makes up the universe." Jack nodded for him to go on, really trying to pay attention this time. "It's made of ionized … that means charged … gases," he translated for Jack's benefit. "It has some really interesting properties, if you look at the frequency of non-Maxwellian velocity distribution and the differences between non thermal and anisothermal plasmas, not to mention …"

Jack waved his hand up and down, using the common 'cease fire' hand gesture. "You are like a split second from doin' math on me, arentcha? I mean, I don't mind the stuff when it comes to calculating MOA to protect your skinny ass, but you got a whole new geek level of math that, well, kinda makes my head hurt, if you know what I mean." Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Mac half smiled with a little shake of his head. He'd been pretty close, actually. He took a second to figure out how he could describe it in what he'd come to know as Jack-speak. "It would be like being able to throw lighting at your enemies, Jack. No … it'd be like being able to throw a spinning saw made of lighting."

Jack's face beamed. "Dude! That would be awesome! Figures a science nerd like you would come up with throwing lightning as a superpower. Damn inventive son, that's what that is."

Mac grinned with another head shake. "I didn't make it up. It's been in comic books for years. Just … you know … better ones than you read, old man."

Jack placed a hand over his vest and took a deep breath in dramatic fashion. "As soon as we get back to the base, I'm calling Guinness. Angus MacGyver has read books that weren't all science and no fun. And comics at that." Jack smiled, "Will wonders never cease?"

Mac almost flushed. "They were Bozer's actually."

Jack looked like he was going to continue ribbing him about the comics and how his 'being cool' stories always involved something he accidentally stumbled onto through his friend back home. Mac decided to head him off by offering something he figured would distract his partner. "We could make plasma if you wanted."

Jack glanced at him. "We could make spinning lightning saws?" He actually looked hopeful.

"No, because if we could actually do that, I'd have both of us back on the right continent by the end of the month. We could make a little bit of plasma in the microwave in the mess." He paused for a second, letting what he was talking about sink in. "If we can get ahold of a grape or two."

"Are you bullshitting me now just to make me look dumb?" Jack asked, his eyes scrutinizing his partner trying to pick up any tell that would indicate if the kid was messing with him.

Mac grinned. "Would I do that?" Jack glared and it didn't look as teasing as it had a few moments ago. "Seriously, Jack. If you microwave grapes you can get little arcs of plasma. Like the stuff the sun is made out of, the stuff that lightning is made out of. The stuff that would make a pretty badass superpower if you could just throw it around."

The Operator's glare morphed into a toothy grin, "That I gotta see. Been awhile since there was any fresh fruit around here. Maybe we'll get lucky!"

Mac smiled at the prospect of doing some science related stuff that wasn't military standard issue. He also knew most of the guys around here had probably never seen anything like the little demonstration he was thinking of and he was sort of already looking forward to it, even though it was still a barely hatched plan. Despite the fact that the oohs and ahh's would be more for the fact that there was a mini-fireball that came from a grape rather than the actual science behind what they were seeing. Mac laughed knowing that once the guys got a look at the effect, the FOB was probably going to have a serious shortage of grapes and an abnormal amount of requisitions for new microwaves.

"Whatcha laughin' at?" Jack asked, a bit self-conscious.

Mac banished the the images from his mind and collected himself. "Nothing, I was just thinking," he replied, knowing he had to change the subject before Jack hounded him endlessly about what was funny. "So, Jack?" Mac paused, getting the older man's attention, "What's your superpower? Who would you be?"

Jack scoffed, "Too easy dude," he pointed at the front of his vest where the faded well worn emblem of the skull had been spray painted on. "The Punisher, man. What? Did you think I just painted this because I thought it looked cool?"

Mac shrugged. "Actually yeah, I mean you're not the only one that has that emblem on his gear, Jack. And while I understand the psychological reasons behind the emblem, you do know the Punisher doesn't have an actual superpower right?"

Jack looked down at the faded emblem. "Dude, the Punisher is badass, man." Jack reached back blindly toward the ice chest. "I mean if you can get past, you know, what made him that way, he freakin rocks."

Mac reached back for his partner in a move that was less helpful and more self-preservation as the hummer swerved slightly every time Jack searched for the cooler, which had slid behind his own seat. "I'll get it, you just keep your eyes on the road, will you please?" Mac turned around in his seat half climbing to the back to reach the cooler. Once he retrieved the water, he sat back in his seat and opened the water and handed it to Jack, happy to see they were still traveling on the actual road and not going cross country through the dirt and sand.

"I got it man," Jack said a bit defensively.

Mac took his helmet off and scrubbed a hand through his sweaty stiff hair. Despite the heat, having the window down just a little bit did feel good. The wind was drying the sweat which did have a cooling effect but it also meant a stray round didn't have to go through the bullet resistant glass to really ventilate him, as Jack had once so eloquently put it. But at the moment, it was too pleasant to cool off a little to want it back up, even if that was safer.

Jack looked at him and eyed the window, but figured the kid had spent most of the day in the sun essentially digging up garbage so he wasn't going to give him much flack about a couple of inches of open space.
"So, why can you be the Hulk and I can't be the Punisher?" Jack asked taking a long drink of the cool liquid, opting to squint through the cold that invaded his head instead of the customary hand to the eye socket.

Mac's eyes rolled. "Jack, you can be whoever you want to be, man," he said, obviously getting tired of the conversation. "I just kind of figured you'd pick someone with an actual superpower, not a vigilante with a knack for brutality."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted it. Jack had a temper, everyone knew it and when push came to shove, he could be as brutal as they came, but he'd always managed to keep things in control just enough to keep him from getting in trouble. Mac wondered if maybe the challenge of keeping that temper under control was why Jack had decided to become a sniper. There was a next level calm a sniper had to employ to be good and Jack was definitely good. Mac shook his head. "Jack, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean that you..."

Jack held up a hand, stopping Mac's apology. "It's alright man, it's cool. I get it. The dude's definitely brutal, but that's just because he has to be. If he did have an actual superpower other than being able to take a serious amount of lead to the chest plate and still kick ass, he'd probably be some big green dude that just grunts and smashes stuff when he gets pissed and then turn into a skinny science nerd geek when he was all zen-like." Jack grinned and waved a hand dismissively. "None of it matters, it's all schematics anyway."

Mac's lips pursed at the obvious dig at his choice of Bruce Banner and the Hulk, then his brow furrowed. "Schematics?" he asked, confused, then realized the word Jack had meant to use. "You mean semantics."

Jack shrugged. "My point exactly." He winked and tipped his water bottle at Mac.

"Seriously? How long have you been waiting to use that one? And before you answer," Mac said and held up a hand. "The better word would have been moot."

Jack licked his his lips and let out a laugh. "Exactly. You got it kid."

Mac eyed his partner suspiciously, he sometimes couldn't tell if Jack was being serious and literally thought Mac was making his point for him or if Jack was really that clever and continued to bait him until he turned the conversation around in his favor. It was one of the many layers to one Jack Dalton, Delta Operator, that Mac couldn't quite figure out.
Mac rolled his eyes and took a calming breath, "And you call me complicated," he mumbled, climbing toward the back to get himself another water.

"What's that?" Jack asked over the engine and road noise.

"I said, you want a protein bar?" Mac asked covering his tracks. Mac felt the vehicle slow and Jack's pull on his vest. "Got something up front." Jack pointed ahead of them.

Mac sat back in his seat and leaned forward trying to see what Jack was looking at. "What is that? Something blocking the road."

Jack continued to slow down and leaned forward over the steering wheel. "Looks like a vehicle accident maybe." He reached down and adjusted the volume on the radio. "Get a hold of the TOC, find out if they got anyone responding or if they got any CAS in the area."

Mac instantly picked up on the tension radiating off of Jack. On any street back in the states, if this had happened, they would have driven right to the scene and rendered aid. But this wasn't home. Here being a Good Samaritan could get you killed.

Mac picked up the mic and continued to watch the scene in front of them. "TOC, this is Viper two-five, how copy."
"Viper two-five, good copy, go."

"TOC, we've got what appears to be a vehicle accident approximately eight miles from the FOB, have there been any reports and is CAS in the area?"

Jack came to a complete stop and grabbed his M-4, sliding the action back just to confirm there was a round chambered and set the rifle across his lap.

"Negative two-five, no reports, CAS is inbound to the FOB, we'll divert to your location. Approach with caution, assist as needed, report on injuries and any need for medical evac."

Jack ducked under the sling and tightened the strap securing the rifle. "I don't like this man, something doesn't feel right." He opened his door and grabbed the sniper rifle from between the seats as he exited the vehicle.

"Jack, what are you doing?" Mac asked, still watching the scene he estimated to be at least three quarters of a mile in front of them. It didn't appear anyone was moving around but it was hard to tell at this distance with the heat shimmer, and next to impossible with the naked eye to tell how bad the wreck was, or if it was a wreck at all.

"I'm going to take a look real quick; keep your eyes peeled on those hills over there, lemme know if you see anything." Jack stood behind the open driver's side door and rested the long rifle against the frame, settling behind the scope.

Mac grabbed the binoculars from the center console and rested the lenses on the edge of the window to steady the view. "Jack, what do you see?" he asked scrutinizing every rock, bush, and shadow along the hillside that was in range of an AK-47, RPG, and a host of other weapons the enemy regularly chose to employ.

"I got nothin yet; you?"

"Nope," Mac answered, changing position so he could look at the hills on Jack's side of the vehicle.

"Wait, Mac, I think I got..." Mac watched as Jack crouched lower and adjusted the angle of the rifle. "Yep, got a guy in the driver's seat of the car. Looks like he's... Sonofabitch!" Jack lowered the rifle and ducked into the cab grabbing the mic. "TOC, Viper two-six, how copy over."

'Viper two-six good copy, go.'

"TOC, I got a military age male in a slow moving vehicle headed our way, intentions appear to be hostile, ETA on CAS."

"Viper Two-six, CAS ETA five mikes, contact is Pepper five-one."

"Jack, the other vehicle is moving I think." Mac said, binoculars switching from the approaching car to the panel truck and back. "Coming this way, maybe. It's hard to tell."

Jack leaned back out of the hummer and set the scope on the approaching car. "I don't see a weapon man but this dude in the car's got Jihad written all over him."

Mac knew Jack had good instincts but the idea of killing a person who for all intents and purposes didn't appear to be armed and could possibly have just had the unfortunate luck of getting in a minor fender bender in front of them was a bit hard to swallow. "Jack, what if they just got in a wreck, man?" Mac lowered the binoculars and looked at his partner.

The report of the rifle so close to the cab was deafening and shocked Mac to the point he physically jumped in his seat. His hands fumbled for the binoculars as Jack fired another round and quickly set the sniper rifle in the seat and switched to the M-4, firing controlled bursts at first then switching to full auto.

Mac had gathered his wits enough to get the binoculars up and what he was made his heart skip a beat. The vehicle was still moving as Jack's rounds shredded the windshield.

"Viper two-six, Pepper five-one, how copy."

Mac grabbed for the mic as Jack ejected a clip and inserted another, continuing his assault on the vehicle, the spent shell casings pinging off the metal inside the cab, making Mac duck.

"Pepper five-one, Viper two-five, we're engaged with one possibly two VBIED's, our coordinates are..." Mac pulled the map out from between his seat and the center console, quickly finding their location and relayed the information.

"Viper two-five, good copy, ETA two mikes."

Jack ejected the second clip and quickly inserted a new one chambering a round. He didn't continue to fire, instead he let the rifle hang from the sling and jumped in the cab. "He ain't stopping!" Jack yelled, quickly throwing the vehicle into reverse and stomping on the accelerator, not bothering to close his door.

Mac was caught totally by surprise and was thrown forward into the dash, practically getting balled up on the floorboard between the dash and his seat.

Jack leaned over and reached down, grabbing Mac by the vest and trying to help haul him up off the floor, the vehicle swaying from side to side as Jack tried to keep it on the road.

Between the report of the rifle and having his helmetless head slam into the dash, Mac was hearing bells as he scrambled haphazardly back to a somewhat normal seated position.
"Air support is two out," he yelled, wanting Jack to know that help was coming. Mac looked up to see that the vehicle, despite looking like Swiss cheese on flat tires was uncomfortably close. So close Mac could see the driver; his mind quickly calculated the amount of explosives that could possibly be in the vehicle, the blast radius, and the distance away from the explosion they would need to be in order to survive.

"Hey, if we hit something backwards all that stuff you got in the back ain't gonna go boom is it?" Jack yelled, his eyes were wide with the horror that someone who knows it's all over often wears, and with something like an apology that there wasn't a way out of this.

Mac shook his head, "No it's stable enough that…"

Jack didn't wait for the full explanation, "Hang on!" Jack shouted as he cranked the wheel hard to the right, sending them up on two wheels at first toward the steep embankment, the move slammed Jack's door with a loud bang as he kept his foot mashed down on the accelerator.

Mac tried to grab anything within reach to keep from smashing into Jack, everything becoming a blur until the hard turn was complete. Mac braced himself as the hummer settled onto all four wheels just before the back tires slammed into the large berm on the side of the road.

The back tires hit the berm with a jolt sending Mac into the dash once again, while Jack slammed into the steering wheel, losing his grip as the vehicle cleared the berm like a four wheeled bronc, trying to rid itself of its occupants. As the hummer became airborne, the engine reved.

Mac had the odd fleeting thought that he should say something to Jack about over revving a diesel motor just as gravity took over, pointing the front of the hummer skyward as they careened backwards over the edge of the steep embankment just as the car bomb detonated.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion and hyper speed all at the same time. Jack tried to throw a protective hand across the cab to protect his partner but the force of the blast had the humvee tumbling backward ass end first like a giant kid had flicked his hot wheel off a sand pile. The contents of the truck, like it's occupants having lost their moorings and going where the invisible forces sent them. Jack finally managed to get a grip on the steering wheel with his left hand and held on like he was riding a world class bucking bull.

The positive and negative g's of the wild ride made Jack feel like a human paddle ball. His helmet hitting the roof one second his buttt slamming into the seat the next. He caught a glimpse of his partner who at first had been wedged between the dash and the floorboard now like a rag doll being tossed around in the cab. Jack managed to reach out and grab a hand full of Mac, he didn't know which part but whatever it was, he wasn't letting go as he saw nothing but sky, then earth, through the windshield.

Jack had a split second moment of panic when he realized he hadn't heard a sound come from the young EOD as he tried to wedge himself in the driver's seat just as the truck hit something causing the vehicle to jerk sideways in a bone jarring change of direction. Jack slammed into door frame, pain flared in his shoulder, his vision blurred as he felt the vehicle finally come to rest as all manner of things rained down on him including one rag doll EOD specialist.

The first thing that Mac was aware of was the smell. He knew that smell, but he couldn't quite place it. There was someone albeit muffled calling his name, and he was being pushed. Toward what he couldn't quite figure out. Was he in a crowd? Had there been fireworks? Where was he? As the voice became clearer, full awareness was coming back to him. He recognized the inside of their hummer but was trying to figure out why he was looking up out of the passenger's side door and the windshield was to his left. Then it dawned on him. That smell… That was the smell of explosives. The car, Jack, the berm. Mac cleared his throat, his limbs seemed to be disconnected from his brain. He tried to move but everything was uncoordinated. What was he laying on?

"Dammit, Mac, wake up, dude, and get off me!"

Mac heard as he felt another shove and realized he was laying on top of Jack. "Jack?" he asked, confused, and tried to turn over to see where the Delta was calling him from.

"Yes Jack! Who the hell else you think is in here lying underneath you," Jack complained. "Can you move?" He asked, his irritation waning and becoming more concerned.

"Yeah." Mac tried to sit up, bracing himself with his elbow which only served to make the Delta grunt. "Sorry," Mac apologized, not really knowing exactly where Jack ended and the vehicle began. "Give me a second," he said as he reached out and grabbed onto the well intentioned but mostly unused safety harness in his seat and pulled himself up. Pain flared in his wrist and his vision swam.

"Mac? You ok, man?" Jack asked, trying to avoid getting stepped on in all the wrong places.

Mac tried to look down in an attempt to keep from stepping on the now squirming Delta Operator. "The car blew up right?" he asked as a wave of nausea hit him.

Jack grunted as he untangled himself from the side of the driver's compartment. Hummer's looked big from the outside but with all the gear the two men were wearing, and the pile of contents that had made their way to the front, and the fact that it was now lying on the driver's side, Jack couldn't stand until Mac got out of the way. "Yeah, it blew up." He grunted, "Pepper five-one has eyes on number two, says he'll let us know if they start movin," Jack said tapping the com link in his ear, as he started looking around for his weapons. "Seriously, dude, you ok? You were out for most of it I think."

"Yeah, I'm good. Concussion maybe. Pretty sure I sprained my wrist, but not bad; it'll be fine." Mac reached up toward the door. "You?" he asked as he pulled the handle on the door and shoved in an attempt to open it. All the extra plating they had added, there was no way he was going to be able to shove it open by himself.

Jack maneuvered himself to a sitting position. "Yeah, got my bell rung a bit, helmet took most of it. Shoulder's a little uh…" Jack sucked in a breath as Mac heard the telltale sucking snap sound of Jack's shoulder going back into place. "... a little sore," Jack said between short breaths.

Mac cringed. He'd had his shoulder dislocated once when he was eight. He didn't actually remember a lot of what happened between when he'd hurt himself and when he'd been home in bed afterward, but he knew it had ached for a while and the sling he had to keep his arm in (lest he get yelled at by every adult in his life at the time) had been frustrating at best. He still partially blamed Penny for that one. His calculations had been spot on as far as he was concerned and the experiment would have worked if Penny had been honest about exactly how much she weighed. Of course, Bozer had later pointed out that a gentleman should not ask a girl how much she weighs. Even if it was in the name of science.

Mac looked up at the door again. "Think you can give me a hand with this?"

Jack was sitting on what used to be his driver's side door with his back against the roof. He surveyed the interior and spotted the familiar black webbing under a pile of … whatever that used to be. He leaned forward and grabbed the strap. "What, ole Bruce Banner can't push open a little old car door?" Jack teased, pulling his M4 free from the pile, slinging the strap over his head, he expertly ejected the clip, checked the action and shoved the clip back in with practiced ease. "Gimme a hand," he said reaching out.

"At least my superhero could actually get us out of here." Mac countered. "If we were stuck with yours, well… We'd still be stuck."

"Whatever, dude." Jack answered as Mac grasped his hand and pulled the larger man to his feet with a hiss.

"Sprained, huh?" Jack asked, eyeing Mac's wrist skeptically.

Mac shrugged.

"A little sore, huh?" Mac countered, pointing toward Jack's shoulder.

"Fair enough," he said, positioning himself so he could reach the door. "You ready?"

Mac nodded. "On three."

Jack nodded.

"One, two, three."

Both men shoved, grunting with the effort as the door started to open.

The didn't have the height to open the door fully. Mac chanced a glance down, looking for something to stand on to give him a height advantage. "Hold it," he said, voice strained as he reached out with his right foot, toeing the remnants of the ammo can cooler closer.

Jack gritted his teeth, using both hands despite the burning in his shoulder. "Hurry up dude," he ground out.

Mac stepped up on the can with his right foot, balancing precariously, effectively taking the full weight of the door now that he had the height he needed, and shoved the door the rest of the way open.

Without the weight, there was nothing keeping the ammo can pinned to the floor. Mac sucked in a surprised breath as it tipped out from under his foot. His arms shot out trying to find a purchase, his right wrist banged into the dash as his left grabbed the webbing attached to Jack's rifle, effectively yanking the older man forward with a yelp.

Mac crumpled to the floor, arms still splayed, with Jack leaning over him. Mac cringed. He couldn't tell what hurt worse; his wrist, his throbbing left knee that had folded under him, or the pounding in his head.

"Mac!" Jack shouted, worried at the pained grimace on the kid's face.

Mac let his head fall back to rest against the floor board turned wall. "Not one of my better ideas." He squinted up at Jack's worried face.

Jack's face beamed. If the kid was joking, he couldn't be hurt that bad. "Yeah, well, it worked, and I for one am glad you decided to just go with brute force instead of trying some other freaking thing like blowing the hinges or something."

Mac looked around the cab contemplating the idea. There was enough material in the truck to do just that.

"Yeah, well, maybe next time." Mac sighed, not bothering to get up.

"No way do I want a repeat of any of this, brother," Jack said looking up toward their opening. "I thought we were goners for sure. You know I planted three clips into that car and that dude just kept on comin'."

Jack offered his hand to Mac. "I swear, if I live through this and have kids, I'm gettin' them a Volvo. Those things are built like a damn tank."

Mac shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if the engine compartment had been reinforced. You guys are getting pretty good at taking out the engine before they can reach their goal." Mac shrugged. "It's what I would do." He pointed toward the opening. "You go first; it'll give me more room to get up."

"Dude, we'd be in deep shit if you ever decided to go rogue man." Jack reached up with his right hand and grasped the outside edge of the vehicle. He planted a foot against the windshield and pulled with his right, planting his other foot against the back of the passenger seat as he climbed out.

Once his torso was clear, Jack sat on the side of the vehicle, his legs dangling through the door opening.

"You comin' or what?" he asked leaning forward to look down at Mac.

Mac rolled to his side, trying to avoid pushing off with his already sore wrist. His knee protested as he tried to straighten it. "I'm coming." Mac answered as he heard Jack talking to their close air support.

Mac stood and Jack's legs disappeared as Mac looked up. Then Jack's smiling face poked over the opening as he reached down offering his right hand. "Sounds like TOC's got the world comin." Jack hauled Mac up with a grunt. Both men sat on the side of the totaled Hummer. "Told 'em we didn't need a tow, figured you could throw together some gum wrappers and duct tape, this baby will be good as new." Jack slapped a hand on the truck, his rifle laying casually across his lap.

Mac looked around surveying the vehicle and shrugged. "Given enough time, I could probably get it road worthy."

Jack snorted, not in disbelief but because, even though Mac was saying it half as a joke he was pretty sure it was true. "I bet you could at that." Jack leaned back eyes closed and took in a long cleansing breath through his nose. "Whaddya say we get off the top of this heap before we get our fool heads shot off huh? We got a good twenty before the Cavalry arrives," he said taping Mac lightly on the chest.

Mac looked at the ground. On any given day he'd just shove off the vehicle and land on his feet. He rubbed his knee as he watched Jack shove the rifle to his back, and ease himself over the edge of the vehicle, before letting go to land on the ground with a grunt.

Mac's head still pounded and his wrist was throbbing. But those weren't really the problem. He didn't think his knee would hold up to the drop.

As it was, Jack was doing remarkably well, keeping the mood light given the situation. Mac figured at some point the switch would flip and instead of the 'just happy to be alive and the Cavalry is coming' version of the Delta operator, he'd be dealing with the world's deadliest mother hen and suddenly that twenty minute ETA would be two. And Mac would find himself being medevaced straight to the nearest FOB trauma hospital.

That punch he'd teased Jack about hadn't been a lack of care on Jack's part, but more a misguided need to ensure his partner was safe, even if only from his own decisions. Mac was still kind of pissed that it had happened, but he was trying really hard not to hold a grudge because he knew what motivated it. Probably the same thing as Bozer tattling on him before he could figure out how to get his own shoulder back in it's socket some twelve years ago.

Mac carefully flipped over to his stomach as his legs dangled off the side of the truck. His feet found purchase. He leaned back, looking for his next foothold, and slowly made his way to ground level.

Jack scrutinized him with a practiced eye once they were standing on the ground together. "Got yourself one hell of a goose egg." Jack reached up, his gloved hand on top of Mac's head and tilted it to the side. "Any blurred vision, nausea, seein double?"

Mac yanked his head out from the Delta's grasp. "No, no, and no. Jack, I'm fine," he said, irritated.

"Uh huh," Jack said skeptically. "The wrist?" he asked, reaching for the appendage.

Mac quickly pulled his arm back and turned. "My wrist is fine; just a slight sprain. Nothing to keep me from doing my job, Jack," he said defensively. "How's your shoulder, Hmm?" Mac pointed toward Jack's shoulder and the way the Delta had his arm propped on top of the clips he stored in the front of his vest.

"Shoulder's fine. Just gonna be a little sore for a day or two, that's about it." Jack shrugged to prove his point.

"Uh huh." Mac mimicked Jack's early response.

Jack looked like he was about to say something else. Having had enough of the 'how hurt are you' conversation, Mac took a few tentative steps toward the front of the hummer and surveyed the steep embankment they had traveled down.

Jack walked up to stand beside him. "Hell of a ride." He unclipped the chin strap and shoved his helmet back on his head, pointing at a rocky outcropping. "I probably coulda made it down on all fours if we hadn't hit that damn rock."

Mac looked at the front of the hummer then back up the hill, before he carefully walked around the vehicle surveying the damage.

Mac had no idea what exactly had happened. He had been knocked unconscious when the blast wave hit the hummer, but looking at the truck-sized divots they had left in the hillside, he could envision exactly what the ride had been like and based on the damage to the front back and top of the truck, they were both lucky to come out with only minor injuries. "We were lucky," he said quietly as he continued around the vehicle.

"Luck? Buddy, luck had nothin' to do with it," Jack scoffed. "That right there was some Class A driving if I ever saw it. If we hadn't hit that rock, I bet we coulda driven this thing right back up the hill to the base."

Mac shook his head. "I highly doubt it, Jack. And as for your driving ..." Mac paused for a moment at the expectant look on his partners face. "Well, maybe next time let me get my seatbelt on before you decide to turn our transport into Mr. Toad's Wild Ride meets the Baja One Thousand?"

Jack put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Hey, you don't like the ride, don't buy the ticket, bud." Jack smiled and pointed an accusing finger toward Mac. "And just for complaining about my driving, I ought to let you walk back to the base. Or better yet, take those gazelle legs of yours and run back."

Mac tried the latch on the rear compartment, not surprised it wouldn't open. "Now who's complaining? I won that race, Jack. I can't help it if you're too slow, old man."

"Slow? Old Man?" Jack followed Mac back to the undercarriage side of the truck. "I want a rematch," he said matter of factly.

Mac turned to look at the Delta. "Seriously?"

Jack folded his right arm over his left and stood feet apart defiantly. "Yep. Right here, right now. Last one up the hill has to file the paperwork for this hunk of junk and all that bomb nerd stuff you got in the back."

Mac walked back to the rear hatch and pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket flipping open the screw driver. "Jack, I'm not going to race you up the hill." He paused, trying to work the latch open. "It's childish."

"Childish, huh?" Jack stood behind Mac. "Wouldn't have anything to do with that limp you been trying to hide now would it?"

Mac stopped trying to jimmy the lock and stood tall. "No," he said defensively. "In case you've forgotten, the entire reason we're down here standing next to a totaled Humvee is because a guy in a car just tried to blow us up. There could still be unexploded ordnance up there." Mac turned back to the latch.

"Mac, this ain't my first rodeo, man. Why don't you just admit you couldn't beat me in a foot race right now even if I had both feet tied together?"

Mac's brow knit. "You do know that makes no sense, right?"

Jack waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever, dude. Either way, you're getting checked out when we get back to the FOB."

Mac glared at Jack, then said, "Only if you get that shoulder checked too."

The corner of Jack's mouth turned up. "Sure thing, no problem."

Mac's brow knit. He'd been around Jack long enough to know that it if he agreed to doing anything remotely having to deal with medical something was up. Mac suddenly became worried that Jack's shoulder was worse that what he'd originally let on and stopped working on the latch. "Jack, seriously, are you ok?"

Jack smiled. "I'm fine dude." He wiggled the fingers on his left hand for effect.

Mac opened his mouth to comment when Jack held up a hand, obviously listening to the coms in his ear.

"Viper two-six good copy, two-five got a little banged up, I'd like to get him out of here and back to the FOB." Jack nodded his head as Mac listened to the one sided conversation. "Affirm, appreciate it, boys."

Jack smirked again. "Rattler and his boys are up top."

Mac nodded, arms folded waiting for an answer. He wasn't exactly sure who Rattler was but that didn't mean much of anything. There were any number of units at the base and call signs changed all the time, but the familiarity in Jack's voice when he'd been talking on the radio said chances were that it was a Delta team coming to their rescue.

Mac looked at Jack expectantly. "Well? I noticed you failed to mention you got banged up too."

"They're going to do the post blast and make sure this pile of junk gets hauled back to the FOB so you can go through it proper after medical clears you. I got to grab some stuff from inside, anything in particular you want besides your helmet?" Jack asked, ignoring Mac's question.

Mac sighed. He'd make sure to point out to the medic at the base that Jack had self-diagnosed and treated a dislocated shoulder. Two could play at this game. "No, not if they're going to bring this thing back to the base."

Jack walked to the undercarriage and unclipped his M4, resting it against the vehicle as he climbed back up onto the truck.

Thirty seconds later, Mac's helmet came flying out the open window to land with a thud on the hard packed dirt. "Might want to try wearing that thing next time." Jack's muffled voice came from inside the vehicle.

Mac's jaw clenched as he hobbled over to the discarded headgear.

"Thanks for the tip, Jack!" he fired back as he reached down and picked up his helmet. He shook out the dirt and sand and slapped it on his head defiantly even though Jack wasn't watching.

A couple of minutes later, Jack's prized sniper rifle emerged barrel first followed by its owner. Jack set the rifle on top of the truck and ducked back down. Mac hobbled to the front of the truck to look through the windshield. "What are you looking for?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Just a minute dear!" he heard, getting a birds eye view of the south bound end of a north bound Jack.

Mac shook his head and leaned against the front of the truck, taking some of the weight off his sprained knee.

A few minutes later, Jack emerged, he gave a short clipped whistle to get Mac's attention and tossed a water toward the unprepared Specialist.

Mac barely managed to turn and get his hands on the water bottle before it smacked him in the face.

Jack climbed out of the truck and slung the rifle over his back as he climbed down. "Figured you might be a little thirsty," he said as he picked up his M4 and ducked under the sling. Jack smiled. "Now we can go." He winked as he started walking forward and pulled a water bottle out of his thigh pocket.

By the time they reached the top of the hill, Mac's knee had loosened up a bit. It still ached, but not nearly as much as it had when he was just standing around. Made sense, he thought. The more movement, the less chance the swelling had to lock his knee up. Of course the thought of running was out of the question and if he knew Jack, that was the only way the overprotective pain in the ass was going to let him off the hook.

Better he go to medical and tattle on Jack than risk giving the Delta an opportunity to say I told you so, Mac thought.

The ride back to the FOB didn't take long. Mac sat in the back and felt a bit like the odd man out as the driver and Jack shared a few laughs at Jack's retelling of the Evel Knievelesque drive over the side of the hill. Come to find out, the second vehicle they had seen, hadn't moved. It had two flat tires and apparently the owner had just left it there in the middle of the road. Best they could figure was the suicide bomber had stopped at the abandoned vehicle for some unknown reason and just happened upon Mac and Jack as they returned to the base.

As Rattler's humvee stopped in front of the med building, Jack smiled and thanked the him for the lift. "Appreciate it, brother, see you in a few."

"You got it Jack, I'll keep a couple of cold ones for ya. Be good to catch up a bit." The driver, who Mac hadn't seen before and whose name was Wally, shook Jack's hand.

Mac figured that Wally probably wasn't the guy's real name but with the spec ops guys you never could tell.

Mac smirked. He'd had the entire twenty minute ride back to the FOB to come up with his plan once they got to medical. No way was Jack going to duck out of getting a once over by the docs if he had to get poked and prodded. Mac leaned in the window. "I wouldn't wait up, Wally. Jack needs to have his shoulder looked at," Mac said with a satisfied smile.

Wally just grinned and shared a look with Jack and nodded as he put the truck in gear and drove off. "Good luck, kid; see ya in a bit, Jack!" he yelled as he sped away.

Jack motioned toward the doors to the med unit. "You ready, sunshine?"

Mac started walking forward. "Only if you are, dear." Mac bent at the waist and waved an arm. "After you."

Jack strode past. "Why, thank you."

As the pair entered, the nurse at the desk looked up. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Jack stepped up to the counter. "Well, Lieutenant, my young friend here was knocked unconscious, has an injured wrist and knee, and needs to get checked out, if you wouldn't mind."

Mac rolled his eyes. Jack was laying on the charm and talking as if he were ordering from an expensive wine list at a fancy restaurant. Mac half expected to hear Jack say something to the effect of "I hear the x-rays and pain medication are a particularly fine vintage this year."

"I see." She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "And how did this happen?" she asked, looking from one man to the other, matching Jack's tone with an easy smile.

Mac had the distinct impression that these two knew each other somehow. She was dressed in olive drab scrubs that gave no indication of her name or rank. Yep, they have to know each other. Jack called her Lieutenant, Mac thought, replaying the last thirty seconds in his mind.

Before this conspiracy could go any further and Jack could weasel his way out of getting seen, Mac stepped in front of him and smiled. Three could play this game. "We." He looked at Jack. "We were both in a hummer that went over an embankment, got hit by a blast wave from a vehicle-borne IED, rolled over several times end over end, and came to rest with the truck on its side."

The nurse looked up at Jack with a raised eyebrow and Jack just shrugged his right shoulder and nodded. "Yep, that about sums it up."

Mac's brow knit. There was something going on here that he wasn't privy to. "He," Mac pointed at Jack, "dislocated his shoulder and put it back into place."

Another glance from the nurse.

"That's true," Jack admitted freely.

The nurse stood up from her chair and looked at Mac's name placard. "Alright, Specialist MacGyver, if you'll come with me, I'll get you settled and Doctor Cairns will see you in a few minutes.

Mac stood his ground, a frown starting to crease his forehead that had nothing whatsoever to do with the low throb of the headache he'd had since coming to in the humvee. "What about him?" He pointed at Jack.

The nurse just sighed. "They've got their own medical staff on the north end of the FOB, Specialist. Now, if you'll please come with me." She reached out and lightly pushed Mac toward the door. He looked over his shoulder at Jack and glared.

Mac knew the teams' barracks were on the north end of the FOB, and he knew Jack still stayed up there even though he was on overwatch with him now and not specifically assigned to a team. Mac supposed he should have thought of that before he agreed to get seen at medical. Those guys had their own way of doing everything. "You knew this whole time you weren't coming here didn't you, Jack?" he asked furiously.

Jack held out his hand. "Told you I'd get checked out; didn't say where, brother." He smiled and nodded at the nurse. "Thanks, Lieutenant, I owe you one." Jack started for the door as the nurse kept Mac moving toward the treatment area. "You bet your ass you do, Dalton, and don't think I won't collect." She winked and smiled. "Save me a cold one, will you?"

As Jack walked out the door, Mac heard him say. "Sure thing, Cathy. Don't forget your badge; can't get in without a badge."

"I know the drill, it hasn't been that long." She replied to the retreating Delta.

Mac was furious and stunned at the same time. Not only had Jack tricked him, he was sort of abandoning him, in an entirely un Jack-like move. He was up to something, Mac was sure of it. Unless he was just avoiding dealing with medical, a move Mac knew he was more than capable of. He tried not to sound sullen when he asked, "You know him?"

"Jack? Yeah, I've known him for a while." She smiled. "I worked on the other side of the fence my last tour." She noted the EOD insignia on Mac's shoulder. "Is he your overwatch?"

Mac knew his job wasn't classified but he knew Delta was as about as secretive as they came, aside from the CIA, so he just nodded.

"Well, you've got yourself a good one there. If you can put up with his shenanigans." She smiled a knowing smile.

Mac's lips pursed. "Yeah," he said, still angry at the deceptive Delta, regardless of why Jack might be pulling this stupid stunt, first misleading and then ghosting on his partner.

The Lieutenant picked up on Mac's mood. She'd been around the block a time or two and had come across all manner of soldier. Some could be as fragile as a baby when it came to so much as a hangnail, while others had to practically be dragged in to get a broken bone set. She figured Mac was one of the latter type.

"Don't worry, Dr. Cairns will get you out of here as soon as he can if everything checks out. And..." She looked around conspiratorially. "I wasn't kidding when I told him to save me a cold one." She winked and gave him a smile. "Don't you worry, If I can get out of here, I'll see him and the guys later this evening and make sure he really does get that shoulder looked at."

Mac returned the smile with a slight nod. It wasn't exactly what Mac had in mind but it would have to do, Mac thought. "Thanks, Lieutenant, I appreciate that."

True to the nurse's word, Doctor Cairns had been extremely efficient and had a clinical approach that Mac appreciated. To some, Cairns' bedside manner was most appropriately compared to that of a rock, but to Mac, only having to answer yes or no to specific questions without having to carry on any type of idle chit chat while having his knee and wrist manipulated and getting a full once over for any other injuries was as close to his ideal interaction with a medical professional as he was likely to get.

After the required x-ray and confirmation his knee and wrist were only sprained, Mac walked out of the medical unit, having been fitted with a knee brace, a soft splint, and weighed down with a sack full of instant ice packs, and a prescription bottle of anti-inflammatories, with orders to report back to the medical unit in a week for re-evaluation. Until at least then, he was out of the rotation and on modified duty.

Mac had to admit, the knee brace with it's added support did make his knee feel better, but he was still angry at Jack for ditching him and skating on getting his own injuries looked at. But now that he was out of the rotation, that would mean his overwatch was too. That simple thought made his knee hurt a little less and helped to dampen down the headache that came with being bounced around in a tumbling cab a little less bothersome. He couldn't do anything about the golf ball sized goose egg on the side of his head, but just the thought of being able to tell Jack his plan of not going to medical had backfired was its own kind of medicine. Mac smiled mischievously as he made his way to the north end of the base.

As Mac approached the north end, he realized not only had Jack ditched him but that the Delta had purposefully gone to an area he knew damn well Mac didn't have clearance to enter without an escort, and the only one he was likely to get just so happened to be that same, infuriatingly manipulative, childish game playing, Jack Wyatt Dalton.

Mac didn't recognize the sentry at the gate, which might be good. He wouldn't instinctively know Mac didn't belong here … He figured he could play this one of two ways.

One, he could sit outside and wait for Jack to come out; an option that according to some quick math had a one in a trillion chance of happening before Mac starved to death. Or two, he could take a page from Jack's book and try walking in like he owned the place.

Ever since they'd been paired up, Mac had watched Jack walk through secure areas without so much as having to show his I.D. And depending on the circumstances, he could clear a room by simply walking in and giving a look that said he was in command, with no time for being questioned or troubled. It was actually kind of impressive the level of brass he'd seen Jack do that with. Mac had studied this at length and concluded that there was no doubt if Jack wanted space he definitely had the skill set to get the job done by physical means, but it was all about body language. And Jack seemed to enjoy that at least as much as a good solid strategic headbutt.

Mac pulled his base I.D. out of his pocket as he approached the gate. He squared his shoulders and marched toward the sentry like it was something he did every day.

Mac didn't want to glare at the guy but he didn't want his eyes to give anything away either. He opted for what he hoped was his best, I've had a rough day and all I want to do is go hit the showers look as he flashed his I.D.

Unfortunately for Mac, bluffing his way past the sentry wasn't like bluffing the ticket taker at the movie theater back in his hometown. Apparently the Army taught these guys how to pay attention to detail and Mac's forward progress was none to gently stopped by a very solid hand connected to an equally solid six foot and change Sergeant with a name tag that read Blake. "Just where do you think you're going, Specialist?" the Sergeant asked, not removing his ham-sized paw from Mac's chest.

Nope, definitely not like the movie theatre, Mac thought. Mac backed up a step, let his shoulders drop, slightly dropped his head, going for more submissive, almost pathetic, body language. "My overwatch is here, he told me once I was done at medical..." Mac held up the bag of instant ice packs as evidence to sell his story, "... I was supposed to meet him here. Is there a problem, Sergeant?" Mac decided he'd take another page from the Jack Dalton Play Book which read, if Plan A fails… Play dumb and make something up.

Sergeant Blake leaned back and pulled a clipboard off the peg on the wall. He straightened, cocked his head to the side and read Mac's name placard. "I.D."

Mac handed the Sergeant his base identification card and stood tall while the Sergeant held the picture I.D. up in front of Mac's face, comparing the picture on the card to the person standing before him. After what seemed like a full sixty seconds, the Sergeant lowered Mac's identification card while he checked the list on the clipboard.

Mac studied the entrance. It would have been a simple task to get by the guard if his knee wasn't sprained and he had a few essential items. Of course, if he were eventually caught, it would result in a court martial and definite prison time. Mac inwardly smiled. He could probably get out of the prison too but that would lead to a whole new host of problems. He wasn't seriously considering that. Not really. Okay, maybe a little, but the sensible part of his brain, which often sounded a little like his grandfather when he thought about it, reminded him that it would be best if he just went about getting denied entry legally and then claim ignorance about what constituted proper I.D.

Blake flipped another page and continued to scroll down a list Mac couldn't see. Mac turned to look behind him to see if he was holding up a line of people, but no one was there. The longer it took, the more antsy Mac got. Mac was ready to just call it quits and go back to his bunk, but the big Sergeant still had his I.D., so he waited for the inevitable. Just as he had decided to ask for his I.D. back so he could leave, Blake turned the clipboard toward Mac and handed him a pen. "Sign here." He pointed to a signature line with a sausage finger.

Mac's brow furrowed in confusion briefly before he grabbed the pen. To his surprise, his name was on the list in bold black type. Jack's signature was to the right. Mac saw a notation in the margin next to his name and instantly recognized Jack's hand writing. 'Skinny blond bomb nerd' was all it said. Mac signed his name and handed the pen and clipboard back to the Sergeant. Blake set the clipboard back onto the peg and pulled a bright yellow temporary visitor I.D. Badge on a lanyard out of the small cubby of the podium next to the gate and handed it to Mac. "Keep this on at all times. Do not enter any building without an escort. Do you know where you're going?" Blake asked.

Mac knew the drill but didn't want to point that out to the no nonsense Sergeant so he just nodded. "Yeah, I think so; my overwatch's quarters are in ODA 7."

The Sergeant stepped slightly to the side indicating Mac could enter. "Thank you, Sergeant." Mac said as he passed, and headed toward Jack's sleeping quarters.

"Hey, kid!" Blake called out.

Mac turned, figuring something was probably wrong and his temporary entrance into the teams' area was going to be short lived. "Sergeant?"

"Dalton's over with 522." He pointed. "Left at the TOC, sixth hooch on the right, just follow the noise." Blake smiled and winked. "Have fun," he finished and turned back toward the gate, resuming his guard duty.

Mac shook his head and smiled, at the sudden change in the Sergeant's demeanor. It was as if once you were inside the wire, you were just one of the guys. But until then, you were an outsider and as such heavily scrutinized and treated accordingly.

Mac heard the laughter before he turned the corner to slip between the shipping containers that the Army had decided would make perfect, semi-temporary/mostly permanent living quarters. The smell of barbecue wafted through the air and the distinctive 'tink' of a game of horseshoes could be heard.

It didn't take long for Mac to spot his quarry. As usual, Jack had attracted a crowd. Mac had every intention of ripping the Delta a new one for ditching him, but not before he surprised the operator with his presence.

As Mac got closer, the laughter erupted, "... You believe that? A freakin gum wrapper." Mac heard Jack say, laughing. As soon as one of the men in the crowd saw Mac, all conversation stopped and all eyes turned toward him. Of course they'd been talking about him. Mac cringed inwardly. He suddenly felt like a sacrificial lamb walking into a lion's den. It was eerie, one second the group was laughing and carrying on, then total silence. All it took was for one member of the pride to look up and they were all instantly on alert.

Mac froze, half expecting to get hissed at.

"There he is!" Jack smiled, turning and getting out of the lawn chair in one fluid motion.

Before Mac could react, a beer was shoved into his chest, which he managed to grab with his injured hand, while balancing the bag of ice packs and orders in the other.

All of the activities that had stopped when he arrived instantly resumed like someone had taken time off of pause and pushed the play button. Mac had the sudden humorous thought that maybe these guys didn't act so much like a pride of lions as a colony of meerkats, and apparently someone had sounded the all clear. Of course he would never share his observations with such a lethal bunch of meerkats.

Jack smiled and wrapped his arm around Mac's shoulder, pulling him into a friendly half a head lock, a half empty beer dangling from his hand. "Hey!" Jack commanded, easing his enthusiastic grip on Mac. "Guys, this here is Mac, the world's best, most annoying, slowest bomb nerd it's ever been my unfortunate pleasure to keep an eye on I've been tellin ya about." Jack released his hold on Mac completely. "Mac … the guys." Jack waved his beer at the crowd.

Mac returned the nods he received as the men went about their activities. Mac figured at some point he'd get more formal introductions when the crew was slightly less full of beer and slightly more full of sleep.

Jack stepped in front of Mac, giving the EOD a head to toe once over. "So, what'd the doc say? I don't see any fiberglass so that's a good sign."

Mac looked around for a place to set the beer but didn't see anything that he could use without wading into the crowd. "Nothing serious, just a sprain and a light concussion."

"Gimme that." Jack grabbed the beer from Mac's hand, turned toward the crowd. "Listen up! No beer for Mac, you guys. Doc confirmed he got his chickens scattered a bit today, like I figured."

Mac suddenly felt his face flush at the applause and cat call whistles from the crowd. He would never understand the testosterone fueled approval of things that normal people would react to in a sympathetic or appalled way.

Jack tapped Mac on the chest to move him along. "Come on, Mac, let's grab you a seat, get some weight off that leg. How long you out for?" Jack asked as he led the way into the circle of occupied chairs.

Mac followed, thinking that maybe coming here wasn't one of his best ideas. He'd been inside the team areas with Jack on numerous occasions but it was always just a quick trip so Jack could grab some piece of gear he thought he might need on their assignment. He'd never been here in a social setting. Taking it in, Mac imagined that this is what all the other kids in high school had been doing on the weekends, minus the guns of course, while he and Bozer were conducting important scientific experiments. The only thing that was missing were the cheerleaders and the stoners.

Jack lightly kicked the leg of a chair a particularly comfortable looking operator was sitting in. "Hey Bruce, this here's Mac, and he needs a place to park his injured butt. You mind?"

Bruce looked Mac up and down and stood. "Sure thing, brother."

Mac tried to protest, no way did he want any special treatment, and the man had looked comfortable. "That's ok, Bruce is it? I won't be here long, I can stand."

Bruce smiled as Jack lightly shoved Mac towards the chair. "Nah, it's all good. I got to get some sack time anyway." Bruce sidestepped past Jack. "Take care of that shoulder Jack, I'll catch up with you in the a.m." He nodded at Mac, taking in the brace and the carefully casual way the young man was standing. "Night, kid. You ought to get some ice on that leg."

Mac nodded. "Thanks, I will."

Jack steered Mac closer to the chair. "Have a seat," he said again, and it no longer sounded like a suggestion. "I'll be right back."

Mac sat and watched as Jack maneuvered through the dwindling crowd. He pulled out one of the instant ice packs, holding it in his good hand a gave it a squeeze. The bag of water inside the ammonium nitrate pellets didn't break. Frustrated, he slammed the bag on his good knee and felt the satisfying pop of the bag. He leaned forward and inspected the brace Dr. Cairns had fitted him with, and, deciding the ice would work better if he removed the brace, he began to undo the velcro straps.

"Ain't you supposed to keep that thing on?" Jack asked while walking toward Mac.

Mac looked up. That was more the Jack he was getting used to; real concern hiding under teasing and general pain in the assery. Now, Jack had a lawn chair draped over his right arm, two beer bottles tucked between his arm and his side and two plates balanced in his hand, maneuvering around a couple of guys like a waiter with a full tray.

"I need to take the brace off to get better surface contact with the ice pack." Mac shook the chemical bag for emphasis and returned to the task of removing the brace. "Although, I don't really see how these things will do much good considering that to alleviate swelling it takes a temperature of at least…"

His words were cut off by two plates of barbecue chicken being shoved under his nose. "Dude, it's the Army," he said as if that was explanation enough. "But I'll be sure and write the General to let him know his ice packs suck."

Mac sat back, still eyeing the offered plates.

Jack held the plates closer, "Take these, man, I'm gettin a cramp in my arm."

Mac pursed his lips and held the plates while Jack leaned forward letting the chair fall off his arm. "Grab one of these, will ya, Mac?" he said, leaning forward indicating the beer.

Mac set the plates on his lap and grabbed both beers between his fingers, relieving Jack of his chicken wing hold. "I thought you said no alcohol?" Mac asked, watching Jack shake the chair open. "I said no beer for you. Those are for me." Jack smiled as he plopped down in the chair with a grin.

Mac shook his head, "Did you get your shoulder looked at like you promised?" Mac asked as Jack reached out with his right hand and snatched the beers.

"I did," he said matter of factly, setting one beer on the ground and the other between his legs, clamping down and twisting the cap off. "I didn't bring that plate fulla food over here for you ta just stare at ya know."

Mac ignored his plate. "And?" Mac asked, indicating Jack's shoulder with his eyebrows raised.

Jack took a long pull from the beer and reached out, taking one plate off Mac's lap. "And what?" he asked, taking a large bite of chicken. "Anterior dislocation, reduced in the field," Jack mumbled with a mouth full. He pointed the half eaten chicken leg at Mac. "So, how long you out?"

Mac sat back, eyeing the plate full still on his lap. "I have to go back in a week for eval, until then, I'll probably be cleaning sand out of all the rovers and repairing the ones that don't work."

Mac thought about what he just said and realized that maybe being on modified duty wasn't going to be all that bad. It would give him a chance to work on technology that didn't have the potential to blow him and everyone else to bits if he cut the wrong wire. With his new found silver lining, he suddenly realized how hungry he was and picked up a piece of chicken.

"What about you? What are you gonna to do with your down time?"

Jack finished the chicken leg and tossed the bone in the fire, and wiped his hand on his pants. "Well, since you're out of commission for a bit, I'm back in the rotation with these chuckleheads, 'cause they're down a shooter." He waved toward the remaining operators that had seemed to settle down once their plates were full. "They got an op that the higher ups have yet to approve, but the water cooler bunch says we should be wheels up by tomorrow night."

Suddenly the chicken didn't taste as good as it did thirty seconds ago. Mac set the half eaten piece on his plate. "You're planning on going out with that shoulder?" Mac glared at Jack. "Tell me the truth, Jack, you didn't really go get it checked out did you?"

Jack turned toward the remaining operators. "Hey Wally!" he yelled getting their earlier driver's attention. "Did I or did I not let Doc take a look at my shoulder?"

Mac studied Jack for any sign of deception or signal he was sending the other operator to back his story up. If it was there, he didn't see it.

"Yeah, why?" Wally answered.

Jack smiled smugly at Mac and thumbed toward the specialist. "Mac here didn't believe me."

Wally gave a short nod and went back to devouring his food.

Jack turned back towards Mac and leaned toward him. "Told ya." Jack said tipping his beer toward Mac with a wink and giving a click through his teeth.

"But Jack, they shouldn't have cleared you, you can't go out, hell, you haven't used that arm once since I've been here." Mac pulled the now useless ice pack off his knee, frustrated, and held it up. "They gave me a dozen of these for a just sprain, where are yours?"

Jack laughed. "Jesus, bud, don't let's forget who's who's overwatch here. I'm fine. And the reason I ain't using this wing is cuz it's sore." Jack finished the last of his beer, squinting, one eyed at Mac. "I thought you were supposed to be smart," he teased with an easy smile, and reached for the beer he'd set on the ground. Jack adjusted his chair so he was sitting side by side with Mac and rested his feet on the edge of the fire pit.

Mac leaned back in his chair studying the operator for a long minute. Then turned his gaze toward the fire.

Mac had gotten used to having Jack around constantly and as annoying as that was, the thought of his overwatch going out without him just didn't feel right. He couldn't quite figure out which was bothering him more. That he was angry because Jack was going to go out without him, or that he was worried because he was genuinely concerned for Jack. He concluded it was a bit of both. And at the moment that bothered him. Because Jack didn't seem worried about either his own skin, or Mac's feelings.

Mac grew thoughtful. Guys like Jack were wired different. There was something that made them want to do more than just sign up for a four or six year stint in the military then call it quits. They were in it for the long haul. That was something Mac never considered. He didn't so much enjoy what he did, or a better way to put it was he didn't enjoy the reason he did what he did but maybe if he was lucky he could make a difference in the grand scheme of things and then go about his life (whatever that might look like) when his tour was up.

But they were friends. At least Mac thought they were. He'd be the first to acknowledge that he only really had Bozer and Penny as a frame of reference, but the relationship he had with Jack was starting to feel like that.

Mac's brow creased in an unconscious frown. He didn't catch Jack noticing his expression. He was too lost in thought. Mac knew he was a hard person to know, reserved, and people had more than once accused him of being cold or detached. He wasn't … not really … For him, opening up to more than that just felt too risky. And sometimes, he hated to admit, his brains got in the way of real friendship.

Frankie was the only person he'd ever known, other than his father, he thought with an almost pained wince, that he'd ever related to easily. He didn't have to guard himself or dumb himself down with her. Mostly, with Frankie, Mac usually felt like he was trying to keep up. He thought about his grandfather saying to him more than once that he had brains like his father, but that that kind of intelligence came at a price. That being really smart could cost you noticing when things were important. Perhaps that was behind Jack's casual attitude toward leaving Mac behind here at the FOB while he went off with a team. Maybe, Mac thought, he'd been too distant, to difficult to approach to really be forming a friendship like he thought he had been. He glanced at Jack.

Jack sat relaxed, eyes focused on the dwindling fire in the pit, seeming to be content with the lack of conversation; something that was a bit disconcerting to the young EOD specialist. In the time he'd known Jack, he had gotten used to the man's incessant chatter. It was a consistency that he suddenly realized was a sort of comfort zone. Then he had the uncomfortable thought that it was something he complained to Jack about pretty frequently. Maybe that's why Jack was quiet now, he chastised himself. Instead of addressing the issue, Mac decided he had worn out his welcome. "Well, I'm going to get out of your hair and go hit the showers," he said, breaking the silence as he started to get up.

Jack flinched at the interrupted silence then turned in his chair to look over his shoulder at Mac. "You don't have to go, Mac. Why dontcha stick around for a while?" Jack said.

Mac shook his head. "Nah, I'm just going to …"

"Hang on a sec," Jack interrupted, turning toward Mac more fully and reaching into his right thigh pocket. "I got something for ya, just…" Jack's tongue stuck out to the side as his hand searched the large pocket. He found what he was looking for and smiled. "Here ya go." Jack's arm crossed his body as he held out a laminated card, sandwiched between his fingers.

Mac took the offering, not knowing what it was at first. He held it toward the dwindling light of the fire and studied the card. His brow furrowed, "How?"

Jack smiled, "I know a guy," he said with a heavy New York accent, motioning with his hand as if he were the Godfather.

"Have a seat, kid, no need to leave. That right there is an all access pass behind the curtain."

Mac scrutinized the identification card, looking for any flaw that would confirm it was a fake, going so far as to scratch his thumbnail over the laminated surface covering his photo.

Not finding anything wrong with it, he looked up at Jack. "Why? I mean don't get me wrong, I appreciate it … but I'm not assigned to any team, Jack." Mac was mulling over his earlier long thoughts of his apparently inherited inability to form a real bond with anyone. He didn't realize quite how transparent those thoughts were in his expression or his tone. "I really have no business being here."

Jack snorted, and said with a distinctive teasing lilt, "Jesus, if you don't want the damn thing then give it back."

Jack started to reach for the card with his left hand before pulling up short, jaw clenched at the discomfort in his shoulder.

Mac shook his head, pulling the card out of Jack's reach. "Oh, I'll take it." He smiled, "But I still don't understand why the Army would issue me a classified access I.D."

Jack scoffed, "The Army? Mac, the Army didn't issue the card, I just gave it to you." Jack answered, mock offended.

"You know what I mean, Jack."

Jack sat up straighter in his chair fixing Mac with a laser stare. "Look, you and I are a team." Jack paused letting the concept sink in. "And since I stay here," Jack waved at their surroundings. "It's only right that you should be able to come and go as you please if you ever need me for anything, capiche?" he said seriously and leaned back in his chair. Jack was satisfied that his decision to offer the card had been a good one.

Mac studied the I.D. once more, "Ok, but since…"

Jack cut him off, "And, watching you try to weasel your way past Blake today was entertaining, I'll give you that. But damn, son, you have got to work on your bluffing skills."

Mac's eyes squinted, "You weren't even there Jack; when I walked up you were practically sitting right where you are, so now who's bluffing."

Jack laughed, "I am a master of deception there, young Angus, you saw what I wanted you to see." He laughed harder. "I half expected you to try to rabbit past Blake there for a bit. Hell, I would have paid money to see that."

Mac sat back with a huff. "Well, if you hadn't ditched me and left me to fend for myself in the med unit, I wouldn't have had to try to bluff my way past him." Mac cocked his head to the side in thought. "Speaking of that mountain of a Sergeant at the gate, how'd you know I would even show up?"

Jack leaned to the side, getting more comfortable. "I know you, man, better'n you know yourself sometimes, I think. I figured you'd be all pissed off and come storming over here to give me a good tongue lashing for whatever it is you think I did wrong, so I figured I might as well let you get whatever it is off your chest. Seemed easier to sign the authorization than explain to the team commander why Sergeant Blake had squished an EOD specialist like a bug."

Mac smirked, he didn't want to admit that the thought of getting past the big sentry had crossed his mind at one point. "He would have had to catch me first, and judging by the size of him, he's even slower than you."

Jack's eyebrows rose, "Oh really? Says the guy that couldn't outrun my nana's one legged dog right now with that hunk of rubber on his knee."

"That's… Wait... Your grandmother has a one legged dog? How does it get around?" Mac asked, trying to picture the animal.

Jack snorted. "Better than you at the moment."

Mac resisted the urge to give Jack's shoulder a retaliatory punch, instead opting to throw the now warm ice pack at his head, which Jack avoided easily. "Ha, ha, very funny. She doesn't have a one legged dog, does she?"

Jack smiled affectionately. "Nah, I'm just foolin, but no way do you outrun me kid, that little race of ours was just a fluke. And Blake, that dude was a division one track star man. No way do you beat him." Jack finished the last of his beer. "I think he did shot put or something," he said thoughtfully.

Mac shook his head, "Jack, shot put doesn't have anything to do with…" Mac waved dismissively. "Nevermind."

Jack checked his watch, and sighed, reaching into his shirt pocket, pulling out a small unmarked pill bottle.

"What's that?" Mac asked as Jack stood.

"Just a little something to ease the aches and pains," he said walking away. "You want a water?" he asked with a quick turn.

"Sure," Mac answered, watching as Jack ducked inside the closest cargo container.

Mac studied his surroundings while he waited for Jack to return. The makeshift campsite was surrounded by a horseshoe of cargo containers, all manner of cheap lawn chairs, and large wooden spools that used to hold razor wire for tables were strewn about haphazardly, the sound of generators could be heard in the distance.

Mac flexed his knee, and flexed his fingers, testing just how stiff everything had become while he'd been relaxing. Deciding he needed to loosen his knee, he stood and started to walk toward the container Jack had entered.

"Ain't you supposed to be wearing that brace while you're up and about?"

Mac jumped with a start, quickly turning to look behind him. "Jesus, Jack! Don't sneak up on me like that. Where'd you come from?" Mac asked looking back toward the door Jack had gone in before he so stealthily snuck up on Mac.

Jack smiled. "Texas, baby, born and bred."

Mac raised his eyes to the heavens. "You know what I mean, smartass."

An easy smile crossed Jack's face. "There's doors on both sides, had to run over to Wally's hooch to get these." Jack held up two beers and a water, holding all three by the tops in his right hand. "Pick your poison."

Mac reached for the water and paused. "Thought you said I couldn't have any beer."

"I did, but that was a while ago and you seem fine, didn't pass out, haven't been complaining of a headache, you don't look dizzy, and I haven't seen you pop any pills, so…"

Mac took the water and a beer, walking stiffly back toward the chairs. "Speaking of pills, you do know you probably shouldn't be drinking with whatever it is you're taking, right?"

Jack followed Mac back to the chairs, both men taking their seats. "Nah, it's all good." Jack set the top of the bottle in the crook of his left elbow and bent his arm while twisting the end. When the bottle was open, he grabbed the cap between his thumb and forefinger and snapped, sending the impromptu projectile into the fire pit. He reached into his pocket and pulled the small bottle out. "These ain't nothin but Delta tic tac's." He smiled, shaking the container before depositing it back into his pocket.

Mac shook his head. "Well, whatever you call them, I'm sure they're not supposed to be taken with alcohol."

Jack took a small sip of beer, "Session's over Doctor, thank you very much," Jack answered in a tone that said the subject was closed.

Mac gave a slight head shake. Jack was always on his case about not eating enough, getting enough sleep, and not taking unnecessary risks. And no matter how many times Mac had tried to get the relentless mother hen to stop, Jack always ignored him. But when it came to something Jack didn't want to hear about, for some reason, Mac honored the request. Add that to the list of his own personal traits he couldn't quite figure out. Giving up on the train of thought, he grasped the cap on the beer bottle and tried to twist. The soft splint the doctor had given him limited his grip, and not being particularly experienced in the art of beer bottle opening, Mac struggled slightly.

"Need a hand with that?" Jack asked, resting his own beer in his lap and reaching out for Mac's unopened one.

"No, I got it," Mac answered, reaching into his pocket and grabbing his Swiss Army knife.

Trying to fold out the bottle opener seemed equally as frustrating with his limited grip, but no way was he going to let a simple beer bottle get the best of him. He looked around and found the perfect sized opening that would give him the proper leverage without damaging the glass bottle in the process and smiled.

Jack watched with interest as Mac wedged the top of the bottle between the supports of the arm rest on the side of his chair. With a light tug, the telltale hiss of a newly opened beer sounded.

Jack gave a half head shake and took a sip of his own beer, then smiled. "That's a new one on me, coulda saved me a few fillings back in my high school days for sure."

Mac smiled. "Glad you approve," he said, tipping his beer and trying the hops-laden beverage.

Jack watched from the corner of his eye as he recognized the look on Mac's face as the one he wore when he was trying to figure something out. "Something wrong?" he asked as Mac held the bottle up to read the label.

"No," Mac answered, "I've just never had this kind before."

Jack let a small laugh escape. "I'll bet," he said, not being able to picture Mac as one of those kids that hung out at Sawyer's Pond for a Friday night kegger.

Mac caught the teasing tone in Jack's simple comment. "I've had beer Jack. I did go to college remember?"

Jack smirked. "Yeah, but that was nerd college," he teased. "And you weren't even old enough to drink."

"I'm not old enough to drink now," Mac answered, taking a defiant pull from the bottle.

Jack's face took on a serious look. "Kid, over here, everybody is old enough to drink."

"Isn't that the truth?" Mac answered rhetorically.

Both men sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts until Jack finally spoke. "It's gettin late. How about I walk ya back to your hooch?"

Mac sighed. "Yeah, it is, and thanks but I don't need an escort, Jack." The statement came out a bit more harsh than he had intended. He really needed to stop doing that, he thought to himself. He quickly added, "Sorry, I mean, I'm good, there's no need for you to go all the way over to the other end of the base just to see me to my door. You should get some rest if you really are going out tomorrow night."

Jack reached over and grabbed the bag of ice packs Mac had set on the ground and stood. "Ain't a bother, it'd do me some good to walk some of this beer off anyway, I'm two beers past my two beer limit." He smiled. "Besides, now that you've got a bit of alcohol on board I feel it's my duty to make sure you get back to where you're supposed to be and don't end up in the wrong part of town."

Mac let out a small laugh, "Well I appreciate the sentiment, but really Jack, I'll be fine."

Jack shrugged with a wince. "Just, humor me, will ya, Mac?" Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "And put that brace on like you're supposed to. I may be a great escort but no way am I carrying you across the FOB because you ain't following doctor's orders."

The tone was a teasing one, but it said if a certain EOD Specialist did not put on the brace he had in fact been ordered to wear, a certain burly Texan might do just exactly what he said he wouldn't.

Mac rolled his eyes with a dismissive snicker that pretended he didn't think Jack capable of any such thing, and laid the brace across his knee. "Right. You're one to talk. That shoulder of yours should be in a sling and you should be on modified duty for as long as I am at least," he said as he cinched the straps down on the brace.

"Mac, for real, I'm good."

"I doubt it," Mac grumped. Then he repeated, "You should be on modified …"

Jack held his hand out toward Mac as he interrupted, "Yeah, well that ain't happening. By the time all the paperwork got filed, the physicals for battle readiness were scheduled, all the t's dotted and i's crossed, this whole shindig would be over," he said, pulling Mac to his feet and starting to walk toward the gate before he noticed Mac hadn't followed.

Jack stopped and turned, eyebrows knitting as he read Mac's body language. "You comin or what?"

Mac stood, arms crossed with a scowl on his face. "You lied to me Jack," he said accusingly.

Jack straightened and took a few purposeful strides towards the unmoving Specialist. The fact that Mac would think he'd lie to him hurt more than he liked to admit, even to himself. "I didn't lie Dude, let it go." he growled.

Mac stood his ground, albeit a bit nervously at the way Jack's mood had gone from laid back to instant aggressive in the blink of an eye. "You said you'd been seen by a doctor. If that were the case, then all the T's would have been crossed and the I's dotted, as you sort of put it."

Jack stopped, his face softened a fraction. "No. What I said was that I had been seen by Doc. He knows what he's doin, pal. Trust me. Now, are you comin or what?" Jack didn't wait for an answer as he turned and resumed his march toward the gate.

Mac mulled that over as he hurried to catch up to Jack, his gait more hindered by his injury this evening than it had been earlier. "Just because you can bend the truth to meet your needs isn't exactly telling the truth either, Jack," he said catching up with the operator.

Jack slowed his pace when he realized Mac had a definite limp to his gate and felt guilty for not taking Mac's knee into account. "Look, out there, on the other side of these walls, it's different, Mac. If a regular grunt gets hurt, it's no big deal to the higher ups."

Mac's eyebrows rose at the statement. He'd never known Jack to think less of any soldier or their role. Except the Navy Seals. But that was just a historical rivalry. "What are you saying, that the rest of us don't matter? Is that it?"

Jack sighed, "No, that's not it at all, not by a long shot. Hell man, I know where my bread is buttered and it all starts with the little guy. The guy that makes sure the carrots aren't over cooked or the dude that has to clean the damn latrines. We wouldn't be able to do what we do without the support of even the lowliest Pfc." He scrubbed a hand through his short cropped hair in frustration. "What I'm sayin is, Uncle Sam paid a lot of money and put in a lot of time giving me a specialized skill set, so if I'm out, they can't just plug anyone in to take my place at a moments notice."

Mac's brow furrowed, still not quite following what Jack was trying to say. "I still don't see what that has to do with you not seeing an actual doctor."

As they approached the gate, Mac pulled the visitor's badge from around his neck and handed it to the sentry at the gate and nodded a greeting as they passed. Jack also gave a courtesy nod.

"What I'm trying to say Mac, is if I get pulled because of a minor injury, an entire mission could get scrubbed because of it." Jack reached out and put a hand on Mac's shoulder and stopped.

"Don't get me wrong, I am totally replaceable on any given day, but we practice together constantly, I know what the guy in front, behind, and to each side of me is going to do before they do it. If I get benched because I can't handle a little discomfort, it throws a hiccup in the mix. You get what I'm trying to say?"

Mac nodded. "I do, Jack, but you're not on a team right now, you're my overwatch and I'm out of commission so I don't really see your point in this scenario."

The corners of Jack's mouth turned up slightly. "And you're right, Mac. Normally I'd be sitting around waiting for you to get cleared, but I still train with a team. Uncle Sam requires me to keep my skills up. You know that, bud." Jack started walking again, Mac followed. "It just so happens, one of Wally's guys busted his leg a couple of days ago and they've been waiting on approval for this op for a while, so I got pulled up." Jack let a small amused laugh escape. "Honestly, you couldn't have gotten hurt at a better time. I wasn't looking forward to running double duty again; it sucks."

Mac felt his face flush. His dark thoughts from earlier had been more on the nose than he'd previously wanted to consider. He should have known someone like Jack that was full speed all the time would find some way to get rid of him. "So, you knew a couple of days ago and you didn't say anything?" Mac paused, swallowing, trying to decide between feeling angry and hurt and once again settling on an ugly Venn diagram of the two. "I'm sorry I'm keeping you from working on a team Jack, you should ask for a permanent reassignment," Mac said, unable to help the accusing tone it came out in.

Jack stopped and turned to Mac, holding his hand out to stop the younger man. "Whoa, slow down there, partner, it's not like that. Not one bit." Jack tapped Mac's front pocket. "Without that shiney new I.D. Card you got from yours truly, you're welcome by the way, I couldn't tell you nothin about nothin that happened beyond those walls."

Mac's lips pursed; he hadn't thought about that. "Well, thanks for the clearance, Jack, but I was serious, if you want to go back to doing what you were doing before I showed up. You're more than welcome to. I can handle myself." Mac started walking again, not liking how defensive he sounded and feeling himself flush just a little.

Jack laughed like he didn't notice it too, and followed along, falling into step easily. "Jesus Christ you are stubborn." Jack shook his head. "I am your overwatch, Mac. That's my number one priority over here in this godforsaken place." Jack held up an index finger. "Number. One. You get that, right?" Jack dropped his hand. "But, that doesn't mean I don't work a little overtime when I'm told if you get my meaning."

Mac's anger started to wain. "Yeah, I guess I do. I just don't understand some of it, I suppose." Mac reached down to adjust the knee brace that had slipped down a bit. "I can't believe they want you to watch my back and still go out and do, well whatever it is you do."

Jack slowed his pace even more, he could tell Mac's knee was bothering him. "Well, as soon as I get back, you can use that shiny new I.D. Card, move your stuff into my hooch, and I'll tell ya all about it."

Mac stopped, "Move in? I can't do that, I'm not…"

Jack held up his hand, "Dude, have you listened to a word I've said? You're one of us now, one of the cool kids, inner circle, inner sanctum and all that. Mi casa es tu casa." Jack reached for the door to Mac's barracks. "To be honest dude, you're casa sucks."

Mac laughed, feeling a lot of his earlier tension slip away, although he hadn't even quite processed why yet. "Yeah, kind of, and I appreciate the offer Jack, but really it's not necessary."

Jack looked to the heavens. "Lord, help me out here." Jack sidestepped to let Mac pass the threshold. "Just think about it will ya? I mean having to walk over here every damn time I have to pick you up is killing my knees dude. How am I supposed to whoop your ass in our rematch if I'm crippled?"

Mac stood in the doorway and laughed. "Our rematch? When did we agree to that? And you are far from being crippled, Jack. Besides, I don't know why you would want to put yourself through the humiliation of getting your ass kicked by someone in a knee brace anyway." Mac held his leg out for emphasis.

Jack smiled and walked backwards, holding both arms out to his sides, for effect and to prove a point. "Don't count this old war horse out just yet, kid. I'm full of surprises."

By the stunned look on Mac's face, Jack knew he'd accomplished his goal and turned to go back to the north end.

Mac stood in the doorway and watched Jack go, not missing the way the operator tucked his arm back to his side as he faded into the darkness. "Get your running shoes warmed up, kiddo, cuz I'm comin for ya!" floated back through the darkness.

Later that night, Mac lay on his bunk with his knee propped up on his duffle. He held the I.D. card in his hand, flipping it over and over, judging the weight of the simple but powerful item. He could calculate it's exact weight in grams just by the thickness of the paper, the density of the laminate, and the type of ink used to print it, but that didn't matter. For the first time in a long time, he had been given a gift. The weight of the card was unimportant. It was the just under six foot, one hundred and eighty pounds that came with it that really mattered.

It told him plainly that his grandfather was right. Sometimes those brains did come with a price. Today his price had been an inability to see simple friendship for what it was. The price had been doubt in his own worth and in the intentions of his partner, his friend. He promised himself he'd work on making his brains an asset instead of a constant drag on his ability to be happy.

Mac put the card back in his shirt pocket, reached above his head, and turned the reading light off. He rested his hands on his chest, closed his eyes, and smiled, content.

The End

A/N:

Congrats, you made it. :-). I started this thing quite a while ago and then it just sat for a bit. I had an idea of where it was supposed to go originally but once I started in on it again, things just went sort of sideways and this was the result. Sorry for the length, I thought about splitting it up into a few chapters but couldn't really find a good spot.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I still have that mental to do list that started this one that I didn't quite get to so I'll probably end up throwing in a third part to this series. I just don't know when exactly. Still working on the next story in the G.I. Jack and Mac series but that one is coming along at a snails pace.

Thanks for reading.

Gib