Past is Prologue

A/N – Welcome back to my crazy little corner of the fandom. Hope you all liked my last fic The Center Cannot Hold. I think it's all shiny now as far as edits and little enhancements, so if you give it another look, you may find a better story than the one you last saw (I hope so anyway – I'm a little obsessive with my edits and revisions). I've had numerous requests via that piece for my version of the Mac/Jack origin story and I've also had some interest in the next chapter in the saga that is life after Nikki I started to explore there. Because I am a desperate people pleaser, especially when it comes to my readers, I've decided to tackle both together, through a current mission/life and flashbacks/memories/confessions. I know what you're thinking … And you're probably right … That's crazy town. But I love living on the edge. And no matter what, I promise bromancy, whumpy, hurt/comforty, exciting stuff. Also, because someone asked me a thoughtful question, I just want to add, the OC Becca is not here to stay and isn't going to Mary Sue this fic up. She's a connection between The Center Cannot Hold and this story. I felt like I should say that up front so no one worries that the some girl in a lab coat is going to turn into the hero of the piece. I also hate to admit a character is a plot device, but she kind of is. Anyhow ... Looking forward to hearing from you all about this adventure! (As before, I own nothing.)

He knew it was light out, was probably later than he'd planned on sleeping, but he was comfortable, and he didn't want to wake his companion. He knew it wouldn't keep forever; they both had work, but it was so pleasant to lay there half-awake with her tucked into the crook of his arm, he didn't want to jostle her awake and start their day just yet. Besides, she had to be exhausted. Having spent the last two weeks at a conference in Paris meant the jetlag would probably be epic this morning. Even though he'd been traveling as well, it didn't usually hit him particularly hard. He still hardly ever slept worth a damn anyway. Although, he had to admit, while neither of them was ready to even skirt around the edges of the living-together relationship conversation, he did prefer the nights they spent together, and not just for the obvious reasons that his friends intimated every time they were around to see her leave, or him come home. It was sort of nice to have a girlfriend who was read in to enough of what Phoenix did that he didn't have to lie all the time, but who wasn't cleared for any specifics of his job, so there was no shop talk when they were together. Well, almost no shop talk. Last night, for the first time, she expressed some real curiosity about his scars. He supposed it made sense. Between their two jobs it had been nearly a month since they'd seen each other so they were pretty focused on taking each other in. The fresh set of stitches along his forearm was probably more responsible for it than anything though.

When they'd gotten to his place after dinner and he'd taken off his jacket, Becca had homed in on the injury with Jack Dalton-like speed. "Mac! What happened?" she asked as she took his hand, more so she could lift his arm and look at it than because she was interested in holding it.

He shook his head and shrugged. "Work."

"Like, 'you did something dumb in the lab' work … or 'you could tell me but you'd have to kill me' work?"

Then he'd grinned, "Little from Column A …"

Later, she'd insisted on cleaning the long stinging cut before bed. They hadn't really talked about her staying the night, but it seemed very natural since she still had her bags from the flight home in the back of Mac's jeep. She had never paid much attention before, but Mac's arms and torso were a fine network of faint scars. She didn't want to be "that girlfriend"; she knew he couldn't always talk about what he did, and she imagined, from his many scars, that some of them came with memories he'd probably rather not drudge up, but she was very curious about his past, especially because their discussions about her work told her without a doubt that he would be brilliant in any scientific field he applied himself to. They were lying in bed a while later, Becca trying to doze off comfortably curled up in one of Mac's soft t-shirts, and Mac stretched out over the covers, wearing just the pajama bottoms that went with the t his girlfriend had appropriated, reading the pre-briefing materials on his company tablet, and she reached out and traced a scar near his right hip. He let out a little puff of air through his nose that was almost a laugh and squirmed away, putting down his tablet and turning onto his side. "Aren't you too tired to tickle people who are supposed to be working?"

"Never," she grinned. "Appendix?" He frowned. "The scar. Was it your appendix?"

"Well, that's what I told Bozer at the time." He shook his head. "Switchblade, actually. Although, come to think of it, it probably came pretty close to my appendix."

He rolled onto his back and reached out to pull her against him. He could feel her frowning against his bare shoulder. "Are all of your scars from dangerous work stuff?"

"Of course not. I can do crazy stupid stuff on my own time, too." He chuckled. "You know the really bad scar on my knee?"

"The one that Jack says we're not allowed to talk about even if they declassify it?"

"That's the one … I already had a scar there from when I was … fourteen, I think."

"What did you do? Wipe out running away from a garage-based nuclear meltdown?"

Mac laughed, but it was slightly embarrassed. So far he thought he'd kept Bozer from Bozering him by telling Becca too many tales of his misspent youth, but that comment was much too close to real life events for comfort. He'd have to start unpacking some of that with her before Bozer got there first. "I never built a reactor at home …"

He raised his eyebrows provocatively and she laughed. There was a story there and she'd get it eventually, but for the moment, she wasn't going to be sidetracked. "So what happened to your knee?"

Okay, scars are cool. Especially if you're not the one who bled to get them, but I've never found them as interesting as Becca seems to tonight. Maybe I should be flattered that she's more interested in my body than the non-home based nuclear reactor.

"I motorized my skateboard, and I maybe gave it a little too much juice, because even though I was doing pretty good … I got cocky and tried a nollie … A nollie is when you …"

"I know what a nollie is, Mac. Jeez." It was easy for Mac to forget that she was several years older than he was, had grown up right here in LA, and had been surfing and riding since he was in kindergarten.

"So, you know it should've been easy, but I scorpion'd hard." He found himself about to explain that particular wipeout but she was already grinning, picturing it. It was so nice to not have to translate himself for someone. "I limped around on it for like two weeks before Boze ratted me out to my granddad."

"Was it bad?"

Mac shrugged. "Worse than it would've been if I'd just 'fessed up to begin with. Jack says that story is proof that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Because he says … and it's probably a fair assessment … that I am worse about reporting injuries than anyone he's ever met including him." Mac laughed. "I ratted him out after our last mission though. It was kind of fun. I'm starting to see why he does it to me so often."

She had reached up and brushed another faint silver line that spanned several inches of the left side of his chest above his small scar from the shooting at Lake Como. "This looks old too. Another daring adventure on the mean streets of Mission City?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably. This relationship was not so serious that he was interested in opening that can of worms. "Um … no …"

"Well what happened?" she pressed.

He swallowed. "I got that in Afghanistan."

She pulled her hand away like she'd been burned. "Oh. Oh, Mac, I'm sorry. I know you don't like to talk about …"

He reached over and turned off the light and then pulled her into his arms. "Rebecca, it's okay. Sometimes it's going to come up, I guess. But this doesn't seem to be helping you get sleepy. Maybe I can think of something that will."

And he had.

Now, Mac realized he could smell coffee, but not hear the sounds of Bozer moving around the kitchen. It was late. He peeled his eyes open to find Becca's half-lidded green eyes gazing at him drowsily, still too jetlagged to be really awake. "Morning, Becs."

She blinked a few times, "Morning. Ugh. My brain thinks it's bedtime. I really hate traveling for work." She rolled over and picked up her phone off the nightstand. When she looked at the time she swore and jumped out of bed, grabbed her bag, and ran into the bathroom, after using her Lyft app to summon a ride. Mac did not help matters by joining her in the shower.

When Jack showed up to pick Mac up for the briefing about ten minutes after Becca had left for her lab, he found Mac sitting on a stool at the counter, gazing thoughtfully into his cup of coffee. He glanced up when he heard Jack coming. "Hey, Jack. Glad I'm not the only one who had a hard time crawling out of bed this morning."

Jack chuckled, picking up the cup of coffee Mac pushed his way and taking a drink. "Yeah, well, I'm dragging because I'm still in the wrong time zone from last week. I'm guessing you're dragging because the lovely Dr. Madden was finally back in the right one." He gave an amused double raise of his eyebrows.

First Mac grinned. "Yeah, that's fair." Then he sighed. "I had a hard time sleeping, even though it's great to have her back." Jack didn't respond, just waited for Mac to fill the silence, something he had been more inclined to do in the few months since starting therapy. "She asked me about the scar on my chest … not the one from Lake Como …"

"Ah," Jack figured those conversations would start to happen now that the pair had been seeing each other for a little while. "You think maybe it's time to have a chat about that stuff with Sissy?"

Six months ago the mere suggestion that therapy might be helpful would have made Mac furious. Now, he was grateful Jack had suggested it and that he'd managed to not be his usual stubborn self and give it a try. "Yeah. I think maybe it is. I wonder if she's free this afternoon."

Mac took out his phone to find out as Jack refilled their coffees.