The Tin Man's Boy

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Sometimes I get whiplash from how the writers portray Jack Dalton-one episode he is competent and skilled and a leader, and the next he is a bumbling, fearful, comedy sketch of a soldier. It probably makes me crazier than anything about this season, even more so than the dynamic shifting introduction of Cage-who I am still fervently hoping rejoins the CIA. Sigh. For that reason I keep adding these little tags, hoping to keep my version of Jack present. I hope you enjoy! Thanks to Mary for making this better and to everyone who reads my work and takes the time to comment. You guys are amazing.

RcJ

"And remember, my sentimental friend, that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others."-L. Frank Baum

People did not typically fall twenty feet, let alone fifty feet from the side of a cliff and merely get up and limp away, especially after being shot. Angus MacGyver knew this as well as anyone considering he was well versed in the properties of kinetic energy. The bodily damage caused by a fall was directly related to the absorbed energy at impact. E=Mv2. Where M is the body mass and v is the speed of the body. Air drag and height play a part in survival rate, but so does mass, which is why children often live through a fall that would kill a man Jack Dalton's size.

Jack's first fall on this particular mission Mac had witnessed, even his close proximity not allowing him to reach his partner in time before his best friend had disappeared from view, a victim to Harper Hayes's clever trap. Mac had tried lunging for Jack only to be pulled back at the last minute by Cage. Of course his tumbling down after his partner would have made things possibly worse, but Mac hadn't been able to stop the instant flash of anger that seized him at Cage's interference or the guilt that rolled through him at not seeing the booby trap for what it was in the first place.

He and Jack had shaken off the near disaster, going on with the mission because that was what they did. There was no time for Mac to think about complications, or for Jack to lament any injury- although Mac knew he played up the whole 'cursed island' act as a distraction from that reality-when lives were in immediate danger. Mac even managed to put the fact he'd broken a promise to his partner about them leaving the building together out of his mind when they'd been forced to split up after discovering Cage's predicament. That was until Riley had miraculously reestablished satellite connection and he'd heard her relaying to Jack that he should be approaching Hayes; that the killer was coming right for him.

At the time Mac had been too distracted with saving Cage's life to realize their plan put Jack at a dire disadvantage, leaving his partner with absolutely no backup. In reality Jack would be facing a killer who had taken out a whole military team and evaded the CIA for years. Harper's tactic had worked like a charm and Mac understood Jack had done what he had to, but that didn't stave off Mac's surge of panic when Riley's voice had come through loud and clear over comms calling Jack's name. Mac had been helping Cage out of her watery prison when the unmistakable and distinctive sound of his partner taking a bullet echoed through his head. For all the static interference they'd experienced earlier, the radio link was working all too well in that moment, as if Mac was standing right beside Jack- only he wasn't.

Never had that been driven home more than when Riley frantically told Mac that Jack's heat signature had dropped out of sight, relaying her own theory about a cliff and the probability of Jack going over said cliff when he was shot.

"Jack!" Mac shouted, watching confusion race across Cage's face. She wasn't privy to what was transpiring somewhere else on the island. Her comm was gone, obviously taken by Hayes which would explain why the woman was one step ahead of them and how she'd known Jack was coming. Even as Mac realized his partner probably shouldn't answer him even if he were able to do so for the fact of alerting Hayes he was still alive, Mac prayed he would in fact answer.

"Yo."

Jack did not disappoint and Mac nearly laughed in relief, the pained, slightly strained voice music to his ears. He let out a huff of air, bending forward to rest his hands on his knees. He had no idea of knowing where or how bad Jack had been hit but he was at least still breathing. "You okay, partner?"

"I'll live."

The proclamation was followed by a string of four-lettered words and a breathy rant about adding The Bermuda Triangle to the short list of places Jack refused to take missions. Jack's typical bluster along with the tell-tale grunts and groans of him moving around brought Mac more assurance that his partner was okay for the moment than did Jack's optimistic prognosis. Mac gave Cage a brief smile, before touching the comm in his ear.

"Tombstone, transmission is compromised. Can the sheep get back to Shepherd on its own? Or do I need to send Mary to collect my lamb?" Reverting back to military lingo was as natural as breathing and somehow oddly comforting. Mary gave him a surprised frown, wiping a hand over her dripping hair and Mac hoped Riley was listening and comprehended what he was saying. They'd have to go dark for the time being.

"Good Copy, Shepherd. Mary should stay put. R2D2 and C3PO cut all chatter. Tombstone out."

"What just happened?" Cage asked when Mac removed the comm from his ear, slipping it into his pocket.

"Jack found Commander Wheeler, but Hayes shot him."

"Who? Wheeler?"

"Not Wheeler, Jack." Mac grimaced, the urge to get to his partner growing.

Cage's eyes widened as she wiped hair out of her face. "Is he alright?"

"Probably not," Mac's gut twisted at what he knew was truth, no matter what Jack said otherwise. "But he's on his way back here, leading Hayes to us is my guess. We need to be ready when they get here."

"I hope you have a plan because that bitch took my gun and my back-up weapon." Cage's eyes narrowed. "Which in my book puts a red check mark beside her name."

Mac nodded his understanding. He had a beef to pick with Hayes himself. Nobody shot his partner and got away with it. "I'm going to use Harper Hayes's strengths against her."

The high powered magnet had worked just as Mac had imagined it would. He could have done without the drama of the last minute save considering the woman had a bead drawn on Jack before Mac could throw the switch, but admittedly Hail Mary's were pretty much par for the course with them. Mac hadn't even checked on the woman, hoping having her head banged against the hood of the truck rendered her temporarily unconscious and that it hurt like hell, making it to his wounded partner instead.

Jack was going on about a higher power, and Mac had to wonder at the amount of blood loss and the possibility of a concussion when Jack looked beyond confused and a bit bewildered to see him. The older agent's question about Mac being a wizard compounded his worry, although he forced a grin for Jack's benefit, explaining how he'd pulled off the powerful magic that was science at its finest. Now was not the time to lose his cool, even if the blood dripping from Jack's hands was the worst fright he'd had since landing on the island.

Mac had continued their typical banter until they'd made it outside where he unhappily realized that the skeletal medical staff was over taxed with the more serious injuries of Wheeler's team, which included blood loss, exposure and shock. Despite Mac's insistence, Jack refused to pull any of them away to look at his arm which he swore would be find until Mac could patch it up on their plane ride home. Mac deferred knowing there was no use in arguing with a brick wall or Jack Dalton once he set his mind on something.

"Told you that you could fix it." Jack said with a satisfied smirk as Mac placed the last pressure bandage over the entrance wound high on his shoulder. "Angus MacGyver can fix anything."

Mac appreciated his partner's confidence but not the fact that Jack was having a hard time keeping his eyes open and that his complexion was almost as white as the ghosts he believed were inhabiting Goat Island. "You do realize the slug's still in there."

"Yep. I also realize it won't kill me before we get to Phoenix." Jack cocked a brow. "Unless you're in the particular mood to use your little red knife to dig it out on our way there. But I got to say that as much as I trust you, I've been on that particular receiving end of your limited doctoring skills to know it's not exactly your forte and I'd just as soon spare us both the suffering and wait on Doc Carl."

"Maybe Mac could make another super magnet to suck it right out of your shoulder." Bozer had come up behind them to take a knee beside the two men. He handed Mac two bottles of water and some power bars. He looked from Jack to Mac. "I bet it would hurt less and it would be really cool to watch."

"I think it would be really cool if you'd mind your own business, Boze, and go back to your seat, monitoring whatever it is you monitor when we're in the air." Jack waved his good hand at the lab tech, obviously biting back on a groan when the movement seemed to startle his injury. "Haven't you ever heard of Heppa? There's rules to protect patient privacy you know."

"I believe it's HIPAA and Mac's not a medical professional and this ain't a hospital?" Bozer pointed out, gesturing to the back part of the plane where Mac had secluded them as much as possible, trying to convert it into a semblance of a med bay. The pile of blankets and first aid kit wasn't exactly luxury accommodations.

"Boze." Mac said with a sigh, wishing not for the first time that Jack was in fact in a hospital being treated by someone a whole hell of lot more prepared then he was instead of propped up on the floor of the plane, looking much paler than he had when they'd taken off.

"Fine," Bozer stood. "See if I offer any more helpful advice."

"It would be nice if you didn't," Jack growled as Bozer stalked away to his seat in front of one of the computers. He shifted so that he was sitting up straighter. Mac did not miss the wince or the way Jack's arm went protectively to his side.

A sudden thought raced through Mac's mind. "How far did you say you fell after she shot you, man?"

"I already told you, brother, it was about twenty more feet than the 980 minus a thousand you insisted I didn't fall the first time around," Jack said, with a purposeful albeit forced grin.

"So maybe ten meters?" Mac didn't want to joke. He folded his arms over his chest, his gaze not wavering.

"Why do all smart people have to do that?" Jack complained instead of giving Mac the information he was needing. "Translate everything into metric. Couldn't you just say about thirty five feet?"

"Is that an accurate estimate?" Mac could feel his anxiety building as memories surfaced unbidden from Afghanistan. He knew his voice had risen when he saw Jack's smile fade under the sudden charge in the air. Still, Mac continued, helpless to reverse the throttle of his racing thoughts. "Thoracic injuries are likely after a drop from 7 meters or more. Even a fall from a mere five meters will result in impact velocity around 36 kilometers per hour. From twenty meters that can be an acceleration of 72 per hour. The deceleration impact from as little as ten meters onto a hard surface can cause the heart that weighs typically .350 kilograms to weigh 14 kilograms almost ensuring some sort of vascular detachment and …"

"Hey, hey." Jack leaned forward, his good hand coming to the back of Mac's neck. "Take it easy, brother. Slow down."

Mac hadn't realized he was desperate for air until Jack's touch released him from the throws of his growing panic. He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing in a quick breath as he tried to stop his brain from continuing to hyper-process and dump vast amounts of unhelpful knowledge to his stream of consciousness.

Jack was right. In some ways Mac's thought process could be scarier than a legendary force of evil surrounding The Devil's Triangle especially when he was coming from a mission charged with adrenaline, bleeding off stress in a similar way that Jack had been losing blood. Toss in Mac still hadn't quite gotten past his latest run in with Murdoc and he was primed for a mental storm of epic proportions, not entirely unlike the kind they'd believed had shorted all the circuitry on Wheeler's plane. Mac might have been heading for an unexpected malfunction of his own.

"Aorta displacement or other intracardiac trauma…" Mac started once more only to have Jack give him a little shake.

"No, no, no. Look at me, kid." Mac opened his eyes to realize Jack had made it to his knees, moving directly in front of him. His injured hand now rested on the side of Mac's face. Vaguely the younger man registered the slight tremble in Jack's cold fingers. "You back with me?"

Mac blinked, doing a quick visual sweep of the area. He was grateful they were far enough away from Riley and Bozer that they couldn't overhear and Cage was still asleep.

"Mac." Jack said again, bringing Mac's gaze back to him. "You're safe, brother. This isn't Herat. It's not like what happened on that tower. I'm not Wilson. We're both good, you got it?"

Mac continued to stare at Jack, trying to fathom how he had suddenly been transported from The Bermuda Triangle to being lost in a firestorm in Herat, and wondering how his partner understood exactly what was happening to him when he was completely caught unaware. Hadn't he pretty much joked through the whole trying ordeal of him and Cage nearly being blown up and Jack practically falling to his death twice along with being shot? In fact, good humor had been his go to the last few weeks. He couldn't quite grasp why he was falling apart now, or why he couldn't quite stop himself.

"But you could have broken ribs,Jack." Mac gripped the front of his partner's shirt, the old Metallica one with the fake blood stains. Jack had stuffed it in his go-bag and put it on after Mac had cut his other shirt off and bandaged his shoulder. A part of Mac's mind knew he was being ridiculous but another primal section was truly convinced Jack was in jeopardy, that Mac had missed something. "They might have punctured your lung or worse. Your heart…"

"Mac." Jack's voice was quiet and full of empathy, much like it had been when he'd awoken Mac from the onslaught of nightmares during those nights he'd stayed at Mac's place after Murdoc. "You saw my side and back, brother. I'm bruised and scraped. I'll be hurting tomorrow but I'm breathing fine. My chest is fine. My heart is good."

"But…"

"No buts." Jack shook his head, his voice a little more stern. "I told you I landed on a nice patch of sand."

"So did Wilson." Mac ducked his head, remembering that day like it was yesterday. He felt Jack's finger's curl tighter around the back of his neck as in his mind's eye he saw and even felt himself sliding over the side of the tower as the unexpected shelling erupted around them. Mac's breath hitched and he cursed the fact he felt the familiar knot of emotion climb up his throat, a hot prickling behind his eyelids. Rationally, Mac knew exactly why he'd been primed for that particular memory as he relived the moment Wilson disappeared from view with a shout and Mac was drawn up short by Jack's iron grip on his wrist. Kenny Wilson had been conscious when Mac and Jack had made it to his side, but walking out he'd started having trouble breathing, coughing up blood. He was dead before they could reach a medic.

"Let it go, bud." Jack's grounding touch moved from Mac's neck to engulf Mac's hand in a fierce grip. "Just breathe. Nice and slow. We're on a plane headed home. Feel this baby's sweet purr. You have to admit Matty upgrading our ride was downright uncharacteristically nice of her. Although I gotta say I miss the leather couches and televisions, not to mention the snack bar in our luxury jet."

"It's actually Phoenix's luxury jet." Mac appreciated what his best friend was doing, especially when focusing on the sensations around him like the vibration of the plane's engine and the timbre of Jack's voice was slowly bringing him out of the past. "But lacking in frills or not this ride is much better than that old beat to hell Sikorsky Comanche you loved."

"That black beauty might not have been a smooth ride, brother, but all that armor sure made her hard as hell to knock out of the sky." Jack gave a little laugh. "She saved our asses a few times and for that I will always hold a special place in my heart for Layla."

Mac snorted, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish I could wrap the people I love in the kind of fortification Layla boasted."

"You ain't the only one, kid." Jack released his grip, reaching up to quickly run a hand over Mac's hair in a move that had the younger man's eyes stinging once again. "I would have already made you a suit of chain mail but I can't even get you to wear a flak jacket half the time and I remember the hell you used to give me about keeping your damn helmet on."

"Chain mail?" Mac rubbed a hand over his eyes, erasing any evidence of his current lapse in control. He slowly relaxed. "Be honest. You'd have me decked out like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz if I'd let you."

"Hey now, that's not a bad idea you know." Jack's eyes took on a particular gleam Mac recognized as the one he got when he thought of a great prank or possibly a way to get under Matty's skin.

"I am not wearing any kind of suit of armor on missions, Jack."

"I'm not talking about missions gear, Dude, and I'm going to be the one wearing the tin can." Jack moved his hand back around his middle, grinning.

"Come again?"

"We've been trying to think up what we're going to be for Halloween and so far all we've got is bumpkiss unless you count Bozer's idea about the Justice League and Cage's push for Game of Thrones."

"I thought you liked the idea of being a dragon to her Daenerys Targaryen."

"Dude, while the idea of Cage in a barely there dress and me as a fiery steed she might mount intrigues me, what kid's parents let them watch Game of Thrones?" Jack rolled his eyes, sitting back down again. "No wonder Cage scared all those trick-or-treaters in D.C." Jack flashed a glance in the direction where their newest team member was softly snoring. "Who knows what inappropriate decorations she might have had."

"See my earlier point about you making me watch the Conjuring thirty times and let's not forget the real dead body that your good old cousin George stole and used in place of a plastic skeleton on your front porch."

"Well, you're not ten, and I don't always show the best judgment when it comes to how far to take a prank, but even I know that The Wizard of Oz is more suitable for kids than any show on HBO." Jack carefully closed and flexed the fingers of his injured hand. Pain lines were more prominent on his pale face, though the grin still held.

"The Wizard of Oz isn't exactly scary Jack, well, except for the flying monkeys, but, you know what I mean." Mac shifted his legs slightly, his gaze moving to take in Bozer and Riley who were chatting animatedly with one another before refocusing on Jack.

"It would be if the Wizard of Oz met the Walking Dead."

"Okay." Mac tried to picture the undead ambling down the Yellow Brick Road.

"Bozer could be the zombie version of the Cowardly Lion and Riley could be a bad-ass Dorothy," Jack continued on.

Mac had to admit his partner's enthusiasm was contagious and it helped to drive the last thoughts of Afghanistan from his mind, which he was pretty sure had been Jack's plan all along. "Let me guess, I'd be Scarecrow in search of brains." Mac held his hands out like a mindless zombie in search of food.

"Why go getting all ironic and pedantic on me, dude? Everyone knows you have the biggest brain around and besides now that you've proved yourself to have wizardly powers, you have to be the great and all-knowing Oz." Jack rested the back of his head against the plane wall. Even with his partner's injuries not being life threatening Mac still could see that Jack was hurting and he wouldn't be completely anxiety free until they were back at Phoenix.

"First, since when do you use the word pedantic? And Secondly, I told you how I pulled off that trick with Hayes." Mac frowned, dropping his hands to his side. "It was an electro-magnet."

"So you said after you had yourself a good laugh." Jack narrowed his gaze. "Which wasn't the first time that happened on this gig by the way. You have to back my idea with the others just for having your fun at my expense."

"Okay, I'll back you up. What are partner's for?" Mac levelled his best friend with a serious gaze. "But I'm still not sure you should be The Tin Man. You have more heart than just about anyone I know."

Jack gave a look of surprise at Mac's forthrightness, covering it quickly with another grin. "So, I'll be the ironic one, but if you insist on bringing some realism we could always get Matty to play the Wicked Witch."

"I'd pay good money to see you ask her to do that." Mac laughed. "I'm guessing you might actually need a heart after she tears yours out."

"Where did all that concern for my safety go, brother?" Jack shook his head, bringing a hand to his shoulder once more. "I barely defeated the evil that is The Devil's Triangle. I'm in no shape to take on the likes of Mattie The Hun, so I thought you could convince Bozer to ask her."

Mac knew they'd been a little hard on his oldest friend and roommate, but this was Jack, who'd he'd nearly lost, not only once but twice in the span of so many hours. Besides, Bozer was Matty's favorite.

"Well?" Jack asked, grin still plastered on his face despite the tight lines around his eyes. "Are you in, brother?"

Mac nodded, feeling something shift back into place between the two of them. "I'm in."

"Alright!" Jack lifted his uninjured arm, holding his balled hand out to Mac. "Who's my boy?"

"I am, Tin Man," Mac replied, bumping his fist against his partner's. "I am.

RcJ…Until next time.