The Difference a Day Makes
By: Ridley
A/N: Tag for Episode 2:07 Duct Tape & Jack. Slight spoilers. So, my amazing beta, Mary the Magnificent, had a birthday this weekend and considering she lives far away in another country it's not easy to deliver gifts, especially if you are a last minute, I totally forgot kind of gal, so this little tag was whipped up as a present to her who is the lover of all things whumped Mac. I don't usually do gratuitous over the top hurt/comfort without a point-and this is most definitely gratuitous hurt/comfort-, but for her I'm giving it a go and I might have even managed to tie it into my upcoming Thanksgiving story that actually has somewhat of a plot. Besides, even though I loved this last episode-how could a Jack/Mac-girl not- I still wanted to cover some things. Happy Birthday, Mary!
RcJ
A Classic GTO's calendar hung in Jack Dalton's kitchen. It was one of the things that meant something to Jack that the thief or thieves as it may have been hadn't bothered to take. The calendar was years old, as antiquated, out of date, and as about as useful as the Telly Savalas painting they had taken, but to Jack it was also priceless as was the image of his grandfather's favorite actor. One look at the only month ever featured, the circled date and Jack was reminded that life was precious, fragile, and that it could change in an instant. One single day could completely alter a week, a month, even change the trajectory of a lifetime.
It was the calendar that Jack focused on as he nearly stumbled over the wooden barstool to blearily reach for the new cell phone he'd gotten before leaving for Equador. Someone had obviously thought it funny to fix the ring tone to the White Snake classic 'Here I go Again'. The fact Jack had found it impossible to alter the setting and was seemingly stuck with the song at least for the guaranteed short life of the phone pointed to the only mechanical genius and his tech wizard accomplice possibly responsible for the prank. Despite Jack liking the classic big hair band and especially being a fan of Tawny Kitaen-the leggy red-head who graced their music videos-one Angus MacGyver would so be getting paid back for the dulcet tones of David Coverdale that now filled Jack's house and made it impossible for Jack to continue the nap he'd started during his latest binge of Moonlighting.
"What?" He growled around a yawn, shifting his gaze from the calendar page to the clock on the stove which revealed Jack had surprisingly slept for almost four hours. It was nearly ten.
"Jack?"
"Bozer." Jack ran a hand over his hair, moving towards the refrigerator to grab one of the beers he'd stocked when he'd thought he was hosting a mid-afternoon movie marathon for his team. "I appreciate all you did, but just like saving my life one time doesn't automatically guarantee a wookie life debt, returning my stolen property doesn't give you carte blanch to blow up my phone at all hours of the night, dude."
"Something's going on with Mac."
It was more the tone of Bozer's voice than the actual words that had a rush of adrenaline pushing the rest of sleep-induced fog from Jack's mind. He stopped in front of the fridge, all thoughts of a beer replaced by complete focus on what his friend on the other end of the line was saying. "What do you mean something's going on? Is he alright?"
"I don't know, man. You told me to keep an eye out after the whole Murdoc thing and our trip to the Bermuda Triangle, to call you if anything was off. Well, something's definitely off. He seems out of it."
"Damn it." Jack rubbed a hand over his eyes, erasing the last vestiges of sleep ran a hand through his hair, already searching for his boots. He found them discarded by his recliner. Mac had backed out of the steak dinner he had promised Jack when they'd finally made it through debriefing for the Equador mission at Phoenix, claiming he had the mother of all headaches. Riley and Cage had long since finished their own recanting and were gone. Even though Jack hadn't exactly been looking forward to returning to his own personal crime scene, he hadn't pushed his partner to hang out since the kid looked beat. He'd chalked it up to exhaustion and the long plane ride, not even thinking too much of it when Mac hadn't answered his phone when Jack called to tell him that Bozer had recovered his things. "Nightmares?"
"It started off that way, woke me up screaming your name. I tried to talk to him, but he just muttered something about him killing you and then clammed up. Do you think this is some kind of flashback?"
"I don't know, man." Jack swore again, Bozer's undisguized worry and fear amping his own heightened emotions. He couldn't help but to embrace a little flashback of his own, recalling a very similar phone call from Bozer right after he and Mac had gotten back from Afghanistan when Mac had freaked out at a cinema. Jack had been less than vigilant back then, jeopardizing his partner. He'd promised he'd never put Mac in such a situation again, which was why he'd been hypervigilant since the Murdoc debacle, but Mac had seemed to be dealing as well as he always did, completely with it and together. "Where is he? And where are you?"
"Mac's out on the deck. I'm inside."
"Stay where you are but keep an eye on our boy." Jack grabbed his keys from the table, not even bothering to set the alarm on the way out. At the moment he could care less if burglars returned to the scene of the crime. Riley had been right when she'd said things were nothing in the grand scheme. All that Jack cared about at the moment was reaching his best friend. "I'll be there in ten."
Jack ran over the latest mission as he utilized every bit of the tactical driving skills Matty had accused him of bragging about. Equador had been hairy, but no more than usual, and for once no one had gotten shot, blown up or even concussed. They hadn't crashed a plane, destroyed a car, or been on the verge of a national incident. Sure, Jack had sacrificed some blood, but not in a way that should have brought any unpleasant memories to the surface.
Mac had been on top of his game as usual, managing to pull off a miracle of a heart transplant while simultaneously restoring hope to an entire country. Jack had actually thought the big win might offset some of the stress he knew the kid had been dealing with since their job in the Nigerian village had seemed to work up an even more frenzied need to find his father. Mac's desire to reconnect with his father had taken on almost epic dimensions, driving Jack's partner in a way he hadn't seen since they were chasing The Ghost. The former Delta operator was still beating himself up for missing whatever it was he missed as he brought the GTO to a screeching halt in Mac's driveway.
"Damn, am I glad to see you," Bozer let out a relieved sigh as he met Jack in the middle of Mac's living room. "He's not moved since I called you, and honestly I was starting to get a little freaked about him being out on the deck by himself. I know crazy ass Murdoc survived a fall from up here but I really don't want to test my horror movie theory about psychopaths having ten lives, when I'm pretty sure Mac only has one."
"Mac wouldn't hurt himself, Bozer," Jack snapped harsher than he intended, his eyes already fixed on the door that would lead outisde. "He's just bleeding off stress. It's been a rough few months as you know."
"I know, Jack." Bozer gave Jack an understanding glance the older agent probably didn't' deserve. It wasn't the lab tech's fault Jack had obviously been remiss in watching his partner's back. "I didn't mean that the way it came out. I've learned a thing or two since you all have been back from the desert."
"I know you have." Jack gave a nod, appreciating the lengths Bozer had gone to in trying to understand what Mac had experienced in Afghanistan. He'd meant it earlier at his place when he'd said that Bozer was a good friend. He and Jack might have sometimes butted heads but Jack would always appreciate all the younger man had done for Mac. "It's okay." Jack squeezed his shoulder as he made to move past him to head outside, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "How about you whip up some of Nana Beth's magic-infused hot chocolate? I know she shared the secret recipe with you last year at Christmas and the woman swears it can cure anything."
"You bet." Bozer looked pleased to have something useful to do. He lifted a brow at Jack. "Should I make the adult version or the PG-rated one?"
"How about PG-13, just enough to take the edge off."
Bozer nodded. "So easy on the Milagro tequila, double up on the heavy cream."
"Sounds about right." Jack made his way past Bozer, unsure Mac would be up for the rich drink after catching the first glimpse of his partner's pale, sweaty features. He made quick work of crossing to the younger man, who was sitting close to the fire pit arms wrapped around himself, staring into the dancing flames.
"Mac?" Jack stayed a few steps away, waiting for his best friend to acknowledge him before coming closer.
"Jack?" Mac looked up, confusion registering in his light blue eyes. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"
"I think that's my question, kiddo." Jack moved closer, taking the seat next to his partner. "You look like shit."
"Yeah." Mac made swallowing seem like an extreme effort and now that Jack was closer he could see the pinched lines of pain scoring the younger man's face. Mac's hair was damp, plastered to his forehead in several spots, sticking up in others, causing him to look all of sixteen instead of twenty six. "Makes sense."
Jack frowned, leaning forward to give the kid a closer look. Mac's pupils were slightly dilated and his eyes were glassy, but not haunted like they sometimes were when memories from the war made their way into the present. This was something different. Jack wasn't sure if he should be relieved or even more concerned he'd missed something physically wrong with his partner. He couldn't help but to think about Murdoc, and the drugs he'd used to dose Mac. Jack pushed aside his irrational fear that the psychopath had somehow once more gotten past him to hurt Mac and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "What's going on, Mac? You sick?"
"Maybe." Mac shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as if the motion had sent his world spinning. He gave a soft moan, bringing fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "My head…is killing me."
"Did you take anything for it?" Jack was all too familiar with his partner's reluctance to take pain killers and figured the answer would be a resounding no, but Mac surprised him by giving a slight affirmative nod.
"Ibuprofen when I came home I think." Mac glanced at him, a frown appearing on his forehead as if focusing on Jack took a great effort.
"You think?" Jack clarified, not liking the fact Mac seemed to be uncertain, almost disoriented.
"I did, but I might have thrown them up a little later."
"That doesn't sound good, brother." Jack moved his hand from Mac's shoulder to press it against the younger man's forehead. The heat shocked him as did the fact Mac didn't pull away or grumble about what he would typically deem a mother-hen move when Jack pushed his sweat-damp hair away from his face. "Damn, Mac, you're burning up."
"I'm freezing," Mac countered, blinking owlishly. "Can we go inside?"
"Sure, buddy." Jack stood, taking hold of Mac's arm. The night air was cool for November, but nowhere near cold enough to cause the shivers he could now feel wracking Mac's frame. The kid's knees tried to buckle and Jack had to take most of his weight as he maneuvered them into the house. "How long have you been feeling bad?"
Mac glanced up at him, clarity and a flash of guilt making it through the look of dazed misery. "Since the plane."
"You were sick when we left Equador and didn't tell me?" Jack steered them for the couch, briefly looking over at the kitchen. Bozer wasn't anywhere to be seen. "How many times have I…"
"You had enough to worry about with the robbery." Mac said, cutting off Jack's tirade. He wisely avoided Jack's gaze as he sat on the couch, one arm wrapped around his midsection. "I just thought I was tired."
Jack's growing worry surpassed his desire to once again revisit their policy on being honest about injuries and physical well-being on missions. Instead he bellowed for Bozer who came barreling down the hallway carrying what looked like a bag of Halloween candy.
"I'm here," Bozer said breathlessly, holding up the bag. "I had to break into my secret stash of left over loot for some chocolate." His concerned gaze went to Mac. "Is he okay?"
"Bring me the slide thingy," Jack didn't bother answering the lab tech's question, instead gesturing to his own forehead with an impatient flurry when Bozer merely frowned at him. "You know what I'm talking about. The fancy thermometer Sally sent home last time Mac was hurt."
"Okay." Bozer's puzzled gaze went from Jack to Mac and back to Jack.
"Now, Boze." Jack ordered, waving the younger man towards the bathroom. He would explain later. "Bring some water and Ibuprofen, too. In fact, bring the whole damn first aid kit." As soon as Bozer turned and started back down the hall Jack took a seat on Mac's make-shift coffee table facing his partner. "Is your stomach hurting?"
"Like someone stabbed me." Mac admitted, hunching forward slightly, taking a controlled breath. "It woke me up."
"Bozer said you were having a nightmare?" Jack now figured the high temperature was the culprit behind that bit of unpleasantness but didn't blame Bozer for jumping to conclusions, especially considering Jack had probably primed him by giving him the notion that all was not well on Mac's emotional front. Maybe Mac was right and Jack was being more of a helicopter parent than he realized. The self-awareness concerning his hovering of late didn't stop him from grabbing an afghan from the arm of the sofa, moving to drape it over his partner's shoulders. "Puppies and unicorns again or the one where you show up at the War Room in your birthday suit?"
"I…" Mac looked up, the pain on his pale face more than just physical now. Jack tucked the blanket around him, giving the kid a 'go ahead, you can tell me' grin. "I dreamed I cut your heart out and gave it to Dr. Rosa for Hector Leon's surgery."
"Kid," Jack fought to keep his smile in place as he realized Mac's cool front about using him as part of his life-saving machine was just that- a well-constructed cover. Jack had tried to play his role by joking through most of the ordeal, although at the end it had taken all of his reserves just to stay conscious. "I'm good. My heart is great, which just goes to proves Nana Beth's long-held belief that God gifted me with one big and strong enough for three men. It's you that's looking a lot worse for wear at the moment and unless this is all some kind of psycho-insomniac response you got going on because you feel bad for nearly bleeding your best friend out, then we need to figure out what's wrong."
"Psychosomatic," Mac corrected, with the first hint of a smile Jack had seen from the kid since arriving. He considered it a small victory but would take what he could get. "I don't feel that guilty, pal."
"Good, but you still owe me a steak." Jack wrapped his fingers around Mac's wrist giving it a slight squeeze.
Mac hissed, jerking his arm away as if Jack's touch had burned him.
"Sorry," Jack apologized. He watched as Mac cradled the wrist against him, unable to recall anytime Mac might have injured his arm. "Is that something else you didn't want to bother me with, brother?"
"No." Mac licked his dry lips, shaking his head. Another shiver was wracking his body. "It just started hurting a little while ago."
"About the same time as your stomach?" Jack arched a brow, giving Mac another close once over.
"I guess."
"Do you have pain anywhere else."
"Some in my chest and back." Mac hunched his shoulders, glassy eyes meeting Jack's, the pleading quality not lost on the older man.
"Can I see your hand?" Jack asked, a distant memory from a mission his Delta team had once pulled in Brazil tugging at his thoughts. Mac was still sweating like he'd run a marathon and continued to shiver despite the blanket and being inside.
"Okay." Mac nodded, sending off more alarm bells for Jack when he compliantly offered his hand, his other arm going back to curl protectively around his mid-section. Bozer reappeared with the kit just as Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket and activated the flashlight app.
"What are you doing?" Bozer put the kit on the table and took a seat on the other side of Mac, both of them watching Jack as he flipped Mac's hand palm up and aimed the light at the younger man's wrist.
"I'm checking out a hunch. How about you see if you can make that fancy temperature gauge work, Boze?" Jack glanced at Mac, giving his best friend a quick grin. "See if Mac might be attempting to break his personal best record."
"It's a temporal artery thermometer," Mac said helpfully, wincing when Jack gently prodded the skin over his wrist. "It accurately reads infrared energy emitted by the skin."
"Is Mac sick?" Bozer asked digging into the kit for the scanner.
"Looks like." Jack gazed at Mac, expecting his partner to object to being talked about as if he weren't in the room. The younger man stayed quiet.
"The flu's going around," Bozer offered, still frowning. "Jill said a couple of people in forensics had it last week."
"We had shots to prevent that. Lots and lots of shots." Jack ran the light over the inside of Mac's wrist finding no signs of what he suspected might be the problem and then around the back before working his way up to his partner's fingers. "Sally takes great pleasure in giving us whatever inoculations she can come up with. Right, Mac?"
"She's evil," Mac agreed, although the declaration lacked his usual enthusiastic lament about Phoenix's head nurse and her bent towards torturing him in the name of medical care.
"You can still get the flu even after having the shot," Bozer countered. A quick glare from Jack had him closing his mouth and running the scanner over Mac's forehead. The instrument's sharp beep and Bozer's soft expletive pulled Jack from his task once more. He added his own bit of silent swearing when Bozer flashed the screen his way, the red digital numbers reading a startling 102.9.
"Damn, kid," Jack looked at Mac, fighting hard to keep his face from showing his building panic. It was no wonder his partner was out of it. "I was joking about the PR, but that's like two degrees higher than when you let that bullet wound get infected when we were in Austin last year after the Nikki debacle."
"Can we go to the ranch?" Mac asked, a bit breathlessly and totally out of the blue.
"That plan's in the works, remember, bud?" The random question and the fact Mac seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath had Jack abandoning his search long enough to reach over and press his fingers against Mac's throat, not liking the pounding pulse that greeted him. He shot Bozer an uneasy glance before refocusing on Mac once more. "JP swears we're going to have one hell of a ham feast for Thanksgiving if Ol'Dodger keeps digging up Beth's mums."
"I'd rather have turkey." Mac offered, his breath hitching. He leaned forward again, grasping his stomach with a groan.
"Mac?" Bozer gripped his roommate's arm, alarm on his face.
"Are you going to be sick?" Jack asked.
Mac shook his head, but Jack jutted his chin towards the kitchen. "Go get the garbage can just in case, Boze." He reclaimed his partner's hand, running the flashlight over each finger this time with renewed vigilance. Jack found what he was looking for at the base of Mac's thumb. "Shit. That's what I thought."
"What?" Bozer put the metal can in front of Mac, his anxious eyes searching Jack's.
"See these two marks." Jack held the light over Mac's hand, pointing to the two perfectly round, side by side puncture wounds. The area around them was red, and slightly swollen. "That's a spider bite."
"Spider?" Mac lifted his head, apprehensive blue eyes meeting Jack's dark gaze. "I got bit?"
"Afraid so, kiddo." Jack sighed, trying to remember exactly what poisonous arachnids might roam through Equador. "Do you remember feeling anything like a pinprick? Maybe when you were digging around in those boxes in the back of the truck or when…"
"The generator," Mac interrupted, closing his eyes for a moment and swallowing thickly. When he reopened them to meet Jack's gaze once more he looked more on edge, maybe a little scared. "In the hospital basement. I thought I'd nicked it on something."
"Are you sure he's this sick from a spider bite?" Bozer asked doubtfully, gesturing to Mac's hand which Jack still held. "That doesn't look like much?"
"Trust me." Jack let his partner go, turning off the flashlight on his phone so he could pull up the keypad instead. He was going to call Matty and have her alert medical they were coming in. "One of my men was once bit by something called a Banana Spider in Brazil. He ran a fever, had vicious muscle spasms and was drooling like Old Yeller after the whole unfortunate rabies incident before we got him any anti-venom."
"Is that all Mac needs- some anti-venom?" Bozer's voice had gone up a notch, the way it did when he was frightened.
"We need to know what kind of spider," Mac answered, studying the mark on his hand with an intense concentration that usually seemed to come natural for him, but that now appeared both difficult and taxing. He lifted his frustrated gaze to Jack's. "Maybe a black widow?"
"Possible." Jack nodded to Bozer as he dialed the number to Phoenix medical. He considered calling an ambulance but didn't want to add any stress to his partner when he could get them to help just as quickly in the GTO. "Bozer can do some research on our way to the office."
"But…" Mac started, a hint of his typical doggedness making an appearance. "Spider bites will run their course."
"No buts, brother." Jack was grateful for a glimpse at his best friend's stubbornness but wasn't about to concede to an objection to needing medical intervention. Even if Mac's fever hadn't been scary high, his breathing seemed compromised and that alone was enough reason for a visit to Doc Carl. He stood, reaching out to help Mac up from the couch. "This isn't the kind of thing I'm willing to take a 'wait and see' approach on."
Jack had learned from his time in Brazil not to take an insect bite lightly. His teammate hadn't just been sick, he'd had a light heart attack before they'd reached help. The kid eventually recovered, but the run in with the Banana Spider got him sent stateside as sure as stepping on an IED might.
Despite the onslaught of worst case scenarios running through Jack's overactive mind, he'd tried to stay focused on weaving in and out of the late-night traffic, getting them to Phoenix in one piece. He'd gripped the steering wheel, channeling his anxiety into his tactical driving as he reminded himself that despite some harrowing symptoms people rarely died from spider bites, even in third world countries, let alone in America. One look at his partner huddled miserably in the passenger's seat threatened to obliterate all his confidence in modern medicine. It didn't help that Bozer had no compunction about relating all the gory details he'd found out in his internet search, which included not only the bleakest symptoms of a black widow bite, but regaling Jack with gory first person accounts of other South American venomous creatures such as the Dart Frog and Bullet Ant. It was no wonder Jack was not in the most agreeable state of mind when the doctor finally made it to Mac's room.
"Agent MacGyver?" The man in the scrubs was unfamiliar to Jack, a rare occurrence in medical considering the amount of times he or his partner ended up needing services. It kicked Jack's already heightened protective instincts into overdrive.
"Who are you?" Jack asked, taking a step between the newcomer and Mac, who was sitting on the exam table, decked out in the hospital garb Sally had insisted upon, accessorized with Jack's leather jacket.
"Jack, this is Dr. Henley," Sally had followed the doctor back into the room, and now gestured to the older man who was looking at the computer the nurse had just handed him instead of Jack. "He's on loan with us from Stanford Medical Center, filling in for Doc Carl while he's on sabbatical through the holidays."
"Who are you?" The doctor gave Jack a brief, slightly annoyed glance before returning his gaze to the hand-held screen.
"I'm Jack Dalton, MacGyver's partner."
"Ah," Dr. Henley handed the computer to Sally. Jack didn't miss the raised brow he shot the woman. "I vaguely recall being briefed about you and your partner."
"Is there really a handbook on them, Doc, or is that just a vicious rumor Sally started?" Bozer asked from his spot in the lone chair of the room.
"And you are?" The doctor didn't smile or attempt to acknowledge Bozer's attempt at humor.
"Wilt Bozer." Bozer stood, his good natured grin fading under the physician's stern gaze. "I'm Mac's roommate. I also work here at Phoenix."
"You, I haven't heard about."
"Well…" Bozer gave Sally an accusing glower. "I work in the lab."
"So Sally will know where to reach you when there's news on Agent MacGyver's condition," Henly interrupted Bozer, dismissing him with a glance to the door before returning his gaze to Jack. "I suppose asking you to leave will result in nothing but me wasting time I could be using to assess my patient."
"I guess there is a handbook about us after all." Jack folded his arms across his chest, briefly moving his gaze to Bozer when the doctor exchanged another look with Sally and gave a resigned sigh. "Boze, why don't you let Matty know what's going on with Mac and where I'll be if anyone needs me."
"Sure thing, Jack."
The doctor started around Jack, moving towards Mac who was watching the scene warily and somewhat dazedly with feverbright eyes. "You'll need to remove your jacket, Agent MacGyver. I want an IV started, and blood drawn, ASAP."
"Jack?" Mac looked from the doctor to Jack, a bit of the bewildered quality in his eyes replaced by a mix of trepidation and raw fear.
Mac's dislike of the whole medical scene had gone from bad to worse after Murdoc's little kidnapping. Where the kid hadn't exactly enjoyed needles and IV's before, he now loathed them. Toss in the high fever and Mac looked good and ready to bolt despite the fact Jack doubted he could make it out of the room on his own accord.
"It's okay." Jack softened his tone, stepping to the table to help Mac off with the leather jacket. He gave his partner a slight nod, deciding it was not a good time to be openly confrontational with the doctor they currently needed, but also determined not to leave his best friend's side. "I'm not going anywhere."
"When did the alleged spider bite occur and approximately how long have you had this high fever?" Dr Henley pulled a penlight from his coat, shining it into Mac's eyes. Jack tried not to read too much into the 'alleged' comment but had to clench his jaw to keep from saying anything when the doctor not too gently gripped Mac's face to keep him still.
Mac was still too busy trying to track Sally's every move to bother with responding to the man's questions, so Jack gave his best estimate from what his partner had told him. "I don't know about the fever exactly, but he started feeling bad about ten hours ago. It began with a bad headache. He's been sick and has had stomach and chest pain as well. We think he was bitten last night during an operation in Equador."
"There's some swelling in the eyelids and excess tear production." Henley released Mac, putting his penlight away in lieu of taking up his stethoscope which he used to listen to Mac's heart and breathing, his frown deepening as he moved the device over Mac's chest. "Where's the bite? Or is there more than one?"
"The only bite I found during preliminary was the original one Agent Dalton discovered on Mac's right hand," Sally told the physician as she expertly opened several packages and placed them onto the rolling tray she'd pulled close to Mac.
"How long has his breathing been compromised?" The doctor looked at Jack this time as Mac's dazed gaze was solely focused on the needle Sally was holding. His hands moved to Mac's throat, feeling along the kid's neck. "Has he had difficulty swallowing?"
"His breathing's gotten worse in the last hour." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, giving a frustrated shake of his head. "When I got to his place, his pulse was jack-rabbiting but he wasn't this bad."
"Redo his BP when you're finished with the samples, Sally." Henley glanced at his nurse. "I want a blood gas run as well."
"Yes, Doctor," Sally replied with a nod.
Henley moved to take hold of Mac's hand, his rough grasp eliciting a slight surprised yelp from the kid which set Jack on edge and had him gripping the table to keep from throttling the not so nice doctor. "Joint pain is a common symptom in black widow bites as is difficulty in breathing due to the partial paralysis of the diaphragm. The diameter of the punctures are right as well," he said as he studied the wound, thoughtfully, "but I wish we had visual confirmation of species."
"He didn't know he was bit until he got sick once we were back stateside." Jack tried not to sound completely defensive of the fact he hadn't hunted down the culprit himself and brought the arachnid's dead body back with them, but the fact Mac had inched ever so closer to him and away from Sally, his breathing more labored, wasn't helping matters. He had never missed Doc Carl more than he did in that moment.
"You know the drill, Mac," Sally had stepped alongside the doctor, taking hold of Mac's left arm. "There will be a prick."
"Are you allergic to bees or any other insects, Agent MacGyver?"
"Mac," Jack told the doctor gruffly. "You can call him, Mac."
"Shrieking ants?" Mac answered, turning to look at Jack and away from Sally as she drew the vials of blood she needed.
"Excuse me?" The doctor raised a brow at Mac.
"No. That's not right." Jack shook his head at his partner's confusion, remembering Bozer's excited recanting of Equador's infamous Bullet Aunt during their drive and the look of horror that had crossed Mac's face when Bozer played a recording of a nest of the things screaming. "He's not allergic to anything but shellfish."
"Good," the doctor patted the table behind Mac. "I need you to lie down for me if you will."
Jack reached out to help his partner, keeping his hand on the younger man's shoulder as the doctor began to poke and prod Mac's chest and shoulders. Mac squeezed his eyes shut; giving a barely audible whimper but staying still as he endured the exam. Jack shot Sally- who was wisely taking advantage of the distraction to start Mac's IV- a glower he hoped conveyed that his patience was wearing extremely thin with Henley's abrupt, rough-handed bed-side manner and that they were possibly in jeopardy of needing a replacement physician for their replacement.
"Chest muscles are rigid, as is the abdomen," Henley continued to comment as his hands moved over Mac's mid-section, the kid jerked, one tear slipping from beneath tightly closed lids.
Jack cleared his throat. "I think that's enough,"he pressed out between clenched teeth.
"I must have missed the fact you have a medical degree when I was reading about all your accolades, Agent Dalton." The doctor didn't bother to look up from his assessment. Jack might have let the smart ass remark slide if the man hadn't apparently found a particularly tender spot and Mac hadn't cried out. The kid would have scrambled off the table, towards Jack if Sally hadn't been well-prepared and pinned him down.
"I said, that's enough!" Jack shoved between the doctor and Mac, forcing the physician back a few steps. He knew he probably wasn't in the best frame of mind and that the doctor was indeed merely doing his job but Jack wasn't exactly reasonable when he'd been pushed to a certain threshold, a very precarious one already splintered from weeks of stress and worry about Mac. His house being burglarized and all the memories of his father's death that the incident had resurrected creating a tinder box ready for combustion. Mac being hurt yet again and once more vulnerable to circumstances beyond Jack's control was the only ignition needed.
"Jack." Sally's voice was rational and sensibly calm, although it held a good bit of warning.
Mac didn't speak but Jack felt his partner's hand wrap in the back of his shirt, obviously willing to do his part in stopping what the kid had come to term Jack's tendency to 'hulk-out'.
Dr. Henley didn't look half as pissed or surprised as Jack had expected. He had almost wished the physician had shoved him back so he could have had a reason to actually go all pissed off Bruce Banner and release some of his pent up frustration with a good swing at the man. Instead Henley gestured to his patient, seeming to understand the quickest and most effective way to best extinguish Jack's ire as if Sally had actually coached him on redirecting everything back to Mac.
"Your partner's a very sick young man. The muscle spasms and pain, although understandably unpleasant, are the least of my worries at this point. Seizures and cardiac distress are much higher up on my list of concerns as they should be on yours."
"I get that," Jack growled, slowly uncurling his fists. "Your distracting dictation about my partner's paralyzed diaphragm wasn't lost on me, but I happen to take his pain a bit personally too, so how about you at least pretend to be sympathetic to those symptoms as well considering he's not some case you're reading about in a text book but a hurting kid." Jack wanted to add an emphatic 'my kid' to the end but decided to keep the thought to himself in lieu of Mac's sensitivity to the whole parent role position they had debated as of late.
Henley's stoic mask slipped fractionally, his brow furrowing into deep lines as a hint of color dotted his sallow cheeks. When Jack didn't budge, the doctor turned to Sally. "Go with the lowest dose of fentanyl for pain. I want him on oxygen and labetolol to get his blood pressure down." He stepped around Jack to address his patient. "Agent MacGyver, considering your significant symptomology and reaction to the toxin I'm going to suggest we go with an antivenin despite the possible adverse side effects."
"Okay," Mac replied slowly, his unfocused gaze going from the doctor to Jack.
"What side effects?" Jack questioned, not as quick to agree seeing as how Mac wasn't exactly himself.
"Serum sickness is the most common but anaphylaxis is always a possibility." Henley inclined his head to Mac. "I don't think we really have a choice at this point but we're going to keep him overnight and closely monitor all his vitals. With any luck, he'll be fine by the morning."
At the mention of luck, Jack couldn't help but to think of their penchant for anything but. He ducked his head, letting out a sigh. He glanced at Mac, who was watching him, offering what he hoped might be a reassuring and confidence-relaying grin. "Well, like you said, kiddo, there was that one time in Madagascar."
It turned out that Jack and Mac could now boast one more incident of good fortune as Mac's body didn't outright reject the antivenin Dr. Henley prescribed. Instead, his system seemed to respond positively. Mac's fever was steadily dropping and Dr. Henley believed his patient's blood pressure would be back to normal before the first rays of the sun brightened his room. Even the kid's headache and muscle spasms had eased enough for Mac to drift off to sleep.
Despite the physician's assurances and Mac's condition taking a turn in the positive direction, Jack had remained vigilant. He resisted dozing off himself in the recliner by his partner's bed although he was grateful to Sally who'd slipped him a couple of the good pillows and a blanket from one of the apartments Phoenix kept furnished for VIP's. Bozer had checked in, bringing some of the good coffee from his stash in the lab and even though caffeine wasn't typically his vice, Jack counted it as a necessary evil at this point. As predicted, his and Mac's old friend shitty luck reared its head around four that morning, just as Jack was finishing the sports pages of the LA Times.
Mac shifted on the bed, mumbling something that sounded a bit too much like Murdoc. Jack had just put the paper down when the kid's movement became more agitated, dislodging blankets and setting off an alarm from one of the monitors. Jack moved to the bed, reaching for the kid's hand with the IV. All they needed was for Sally to have to repeat that process. He'd just taken a seat on the edge of the mattress and touched the kid's hand when Mac shouted his name, bolting up right to nearly crack Jack in the nose with his head.
"Whoa there, bud." Jack moved out of his best friend's space, but took hold of Mac's shoulders when the kid called out for him again, obviously still caught in the vice of some nightmare Jack could all too easily envision. Mac's eyes were open but completely void of awareness so Jack gave him a gentle shake. "Come on, kiddo. Snap out of it."
Mac blinked, taking a gasping breath about the same time that the door to his room opened and Sally entered. Jack had never appreciated the nurse more than when after making the machine stop beeping she merely offered him the briefest of nods before turning and leaving the room as quickly as she had entered.
"You with me?" Jack asked softly, one hand gripping the back of the kid's neck. He gave a gentle squeeze, the move practically scripted after the time he'd spent at his partner's place following Mac's kidnapping where they'd reenacted this same scene several times each night in Mac's room. "Mac? You okay."
Mac responded by rote. His hand coming to fist in Jack's shirt as if he needed to physically ground himself or required tactical proof the older man was real and not some drug-induced mirage. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against Jack's chest as he tried to get his breathing under control, a feat that was probably made harder by the ordeal he'd just gone through thanks to the toxin coursing through him.
"I'm okay," He muttered his patented lines, still slightly out of breath. "I'm okay."
"You sure?" Jack stayed where he was, waiting for what he knew was coming next.
Mac lifted his head, his eyes meeting the older man's. The half-smile was far from convincing, but Jack was comforted by the attempt. "Never better," Mac replied.
Jack snorted, bringing his hand from Mac's neck to run it briefly over the kid's hair. "I hope that's not true, but I'll let it slide for now."
Mac glanced around the room, slowly unfurling his fingers from Jack's shirt as he sat up straighter, wincing when the move seemed to pull at his abused muscles. "Are we at Phoenix?"
"What gave it away? The weird green paint that looks like Slimer from the Ghost Busters barfed in here or the pungent medicinal smell they try to hide with the fru fru all natural oil diffusers?" Jack asked with a lifted brow.
"Yes." Mac frowned as he glanced down at the IV in his hand, then back up to meet Jack's gaze. "The look on your face also speaks volumes."
"I have a hospital face?"
"Most definitely." Mac brought a hand to his stomach, wincing. "Why do I feel like I did the first time I tried to help JP shoe a horse?"
"Probably because said horse kicked the shit out of you for standing in the wrong place and muscle spasms can cause the same kind of soreness as a direct hit to the gut." Jack put a hand on his partner's shoulder helping him lie back down. "Good news is that Dr Henley said the muscles recover a lot quicker though. You'll be good as new in a few days."
"Dr. Henley? Muscle spasms?" Mac ran a hand over his eyes, frowning in confusion.
"Douche of a doctor. Sucky symptoms from the spider bite you got in Equador. Any of this ringing a bell?"
Mac rubbed his temple. "Some. None of it pleasant."
"That sounds about right," Jack leaned over Mac to reach the button that would lift the top half of the bed that would allow Mac to sit up without taxing his abused stomach muscles further.
"Are these your dad's?" Mac's surprise at seeing the dog tags around Jack's neck seemed to eclipse his interest in anymore questions about his condition. Jack had forgotten about slipping them on in his apartment after Bozer had left. He'd not given them another thought until Mac gripped the metal in his hand, his eyes coming up to meet Jack's in a look of complete confusion. "Did I dream…"
"It wasn't a dream, brother." Jack slipped the chain from around his neck, letting Mac keep hold of the precious reminder of his dad. "Bozer got them back for me."
"Bozer?" Mac studied the tags, his thumb sliding over the etched metal.
"Seems he and Jill did a bit of sleuthing while we were gone," Jack explained, still a bit shocked and more than touched that Bozer would have gone to such trouble of not only tracking everything down, but returning Jack's place to its original state. "They found everything at a pawn shop, including my Telly Savalas painting."
"I'm sorry." Mac looked up at him then, sincere regret in his blue eyes.
"Dude, I know you were never fond of the painting, but…" Jack said with a teasing smile, not sure what was going on in his partner's ginormous brain.
"No, not that the painting was found." Mac shook his head, his hand tightening over the dog tags. "I should have been the one to find these for you. I wanted to. After all you've done for me, crossing the globe several times over to try and find my dad, I can't even track down some two bit thieves in our own city. No wonder you sometimes wish you hadn't met me."
"Come on, brother. Surely you know I was joking when I said that." Jack knew Mac's defenses were compromised from the drugs and the antivenin, but had to wonder at how much of the uncharacteristic, out of left field show of insecurity was in part due to the toil of the last few months. If they hadn't already been planning a trip to Texas for Thanksgiving, Jack would have found a way to get his best friend to agree to some sort of vacation if only to get away for a while.
"I know." Mac possibly looked as miserable and pale as he had when they'd first made it to Phoenix and once more the older man felt remiss in his duties to protect his partner, if only from his own over-thinking and constant processing of information.
"Do you?" Jack waited for Mac to meet his gaze once more. "Because, if I'm being completely honest, meeting you was a red-letter date, bud." Jack knew he was crossing into the touchy-feely territory they often worked really hard to avoid especially in the charged aftermath of a close call. "I've got it circled, starred and underlined a few times over."
Mac raised a brow. "Like the one on the calendar in your kitchen?"
"Yeah." Jack swallowed hard, thinking about that fateful date when he'd lost his father. A moment in time truly could alter everything; change a man's life forever. Mac was just as much proof that a fateful day could make all the difference in the world. Losing someone could change the trajectory of man's life, but so could finding another. He met Mac's gaze, hoping the kid could grasp the significance of what he was about to say. "Only I don't need a calendar to remind me how lucky I got on that day as long as I have you, brother. It's why I'd do just about any damn thing to keep you around."
"Are you sure you're not still suffering from blood loss?" Mac asked after a long moment, his mouth twitching with a hint of a smile.
"Possibly." Jack laughed, running a hand over his face. "Considering I still haven't had that steak dinner my know it all best friend said I needed to build up my iron levels.
"Your best friend could arrange that if you were to break him out of here." Mac offered hopefully.
"I know you're a bit blurry on the details of the last eight hours, and also might not be above taking advantage of my highly charged emotional state, but in case my face didn't show it earlier, you scared the hell out of me, man." Jack frowned, pointing a finger at his partner. "So, I think you will be staying right where you are, and I'll let my buddy Bozer take care of the cooking for now."
"I think Bozer's done enough already," Mac pointed out. "Besides I wasn't going to cook. I was going to buy."
"I'll hold you to the promise of the meal just as soon as your fever is gone and you're not looking like death warmed over." Jack reached up to put the back of his hand against Mac's forehead.
"Stop that." Mac knocked his hand away, his petulant gaze turning annoyed and grumpy in a flash, proving he really was on the mend. "I'm fine."
"Not exactly." Jack grinned, relieved his partner was seeming more like his old self. "But you will be; then you and I can get back to catching the big fish. Let Bozer handle the burglars. They're way below Team A's pay grade anyhow and besides we need our free time to find your dad."
"Because finding the really bad guys are what we're good at," Mac said, his face turning serious and hurt-filled once more.
"Damn it, bud." Jack sighed, his partner's emotional pendulum threatening to give him whiplash. "I didn't mean to make it sound like your old man was one of our typical marks."
"It's alright." Mac gave a shrug which Jack knew was to discount any offense he might have caused, albeit inadvertently. "It's not like I'm counting on him being some kind of good guy out there saving lives, not like your dad."
Jack glanced over Mac's shoulder, biting his lip to keep from saying the first thing that came to his mind this time. He had his own serious doubts about James MacGyver stacking up in the parenting department but Mac didn't need to hear his partner's concerns about the guy's character. Jack would settle that matter with James himself and gauge his words carefully in the meantime.
"There's no need in thinking the worst until you can ask him yourself, brother." Jack bumped his fist against Mac's, hoping to rally the kid's spirits once more. "Nana Beth would tell you that's just borrowing a whole bunch of trouble and we both know you already have enough of your own."
"I guess I have a knack for it." Mac glanced down at the dressing covering the spider bite on his hand, flexing his fingers with a slight wince. When he returned his gaze to Jack, his eyes were once more serious and sincere. "But it's not like I need for my dad to be some kind of hero. I already have one of those."
Jack found himself the one having the hard time keeping his emotions in check. He had to fight hard to feign nonchalance, despite the words Mac had just spoken meaning the world to him. "Is that your way of trying to butter me up to the idea of getting you a quick release out of here?"
"That depends if it's working or not." Mac raised a brow, letting Jack off the hook although the smirk he gave spoke to the fact he knew he knew exactly the power he held at that moment.
"How about we let Sally check you over, maybe use her fancy temp gauge thingy and then we'll talk."
"It's a temporal artery thermometer, and it reads infrared energy."
"So you said earlier." Jack gave an exaggerated eye roll of his own, and an exasperated shake of his head. "Is there anything you don't know?"
"Probably," Mac replied, shifting to find a more comfortable position.
"I can't wait to see you go a couple of rounds with Dr. Dick Head now that you're firing on all cylinders." Jack stood with every intention of letting Sally know the coast was clear and hopefully getting her moving on discharging the kid, but Mac stopped him by reaching out and snagging his shirt.
"Don't forget these." Mac opened his other hand, offering Jack the dog tags. "I'm pretty sure your dad would have said you earned them a few times over."
"Maybe." Jack shook his head, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump that had once more lodged in his throat. He reached out, but instead of taking the chain, closed Mac's fingers over them. "But how about you hold onto them for me? You know, just in case burglars actually do return to the scene of the crime."
"But your dad…" Mac started, looking down at Jack's hand over his.
"Would have been crazy about you, just like I said." Jack gave his best friend's hand a hard squeeze before letting go. "It's not like you can dismantle them like a ham radio."
"I'll take care of them for you both." Mac smirked at Jack, slipping the chain over his neck. The tags dangled just over his heart.
"I have no doubts, brother." Jack turned to go, surprised he hadn't thought of the solution before. After all, he couldn't think of a safer place for his most precious possession, than under the watchful eye of his most prized person.
The End…For now.
So I have two Thanksgiving stories in the works, one in Between Brothers universe and one in cannon. Keep your fingers crossed!