What Matters Most
By: Ridley
A/N: I have been left after every episode, with the exception of the first one, feeling so much like Mac and Jack needed to have a talk. So, although this isn't a typical length for one of my tags, I really wanted the boys to have a moment and set the stage for possibly a longer tag to next week's episode. So, even though I really liked this episode better than last week's, I might have had a little problem with Jack being referred to only as the 'crazy uncle no one really wants around'. Hmm, everyone insists it was a joke, including Peter Lenkov himself who returned my very respectful tweet about such with a comment I'm not sure was quite as nice. Either way, I am a firm believer in being kind and uplifting but still expressing one's opinion. If nothing else, I will be Jack's voice in story form.
RcJ
Mac threw the last of the empty bottles from the table into the recycling. He had already cleared the chips and cards from their poker game, which Riley had walked away from with most of their money. Jack usually took the pot, but he'd seemed distracted, and Riley had mercilessly taken full advantage. She had, however, generously offered to spend her winnings by treating Bozer and anyone else interested to the special Friday the 13th midnight horror movie marathon at the cinema downtown. Surprisingly, Matty had agreed to go along when she found out they were showing the original Nightmare on Elm Street, revealing she had once met Robert Englund and Wes Craven on a mission of which she could not divulge details, although Mac was certain Bozer would get the scoop from her seeing as he was a huge fan of both men. Cage had turned down the come along invite, mumbling something about an early appointment. Mac had not been exaggerating when he'd called her the mysterious new girl, still having not figured out her angle, but currently he was more concerned about the other enigma of the evening.
"Hey, Jack, there's one donut left." Mac lifted the box from the table, holding it up for his partner to see. Jack had cleared away most of the detritus from around the fire pit and was now sitting in front of the flames pouring over the picture album Mac had procured on the sly.
"You can have it." The older agent returned, not bothering to lift his gaze from the pages.
Mac sighed, the feeling something was eating at the older man confirmed. He rubbed his temple, the headache that had been building over the course of the evening appeared to have reached its crescendo, demanding he actually do something to remedy it. Mac pushed the need for Ibuprofen behind the worrying fact Jack never turned down any donut, let alone the last donut. "It's custard filled," he tried.
Jack glanced up at him. "Then we'll share it."
"That's what I thought," Mac smiled triumphantly, grabbing two unopened waters still floating in the remains of the bucket of ice Bozer had brought out before the game. He brought the remaining donut and claimed the seat by Jack, sitting the bottles between them as he tore the pastry in half, offering his partner one of the pieces.
Jack put down the album, still not meeting Mac's gaze as he claimed his share, which he made quick work of consuming instead of savoring one of his favorite treats. Bozer called Jack's typical reactionary expression to anything he considered palatably pleasurable as 'Food Porn', but Jack ate the donut with all the enthusiasm and gusto he might if Mac had just given him more of his survival tea.
"So," Mac started, having finished off his half in two bites. He dusted powdered sugar from his hands onto his pants, imagining the run he'd have to take in the morning to burn off all donuts he'd consumed. If Jack stayed the night, he'd make his partner workout with him for penance. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you or am I going to have to call Sally and tell her I think you're having some kind of late onset hypothermia symptoms."
"And have her get Doc Carl to prescribe another preventive treatment." Jack frowned at Mac, giving a fake shudder at the round of shots they'd endured. He took one of the bottles of the water, taking off the lid for a long drink. "I don't think so, man."
"Then what's going on?" Mac grabbed the other bottle, prompted more by the need to have something in his hands than he was by thirst.
Instead of answering Mac's question, Jack gestured to the photo album. "How's Nana Beth?"
Mac hid his smile by uncapping the water and taking a drink. "What makes you think I talked to Beth?"
"Because this is one of her photo albums and only she would conspire against me with her favorite grandson in such a way as to overnight this damning evidence just so you could get a good laugh at my expense." Jack lifted a brow. "Not cool by the way, bringing it out to share with the team. I'll remember that betrayal of trust, bud. Or should I just say, Et tu, Brute."
"Are you seriously mad about that?" Mac hadn't considered his partner getting pissed over a few naked baby pictures, but then again it seemed they weren't exactly on the same page as of late. They'd bumped heads more lately, but Jack was far from modest and usually took any ribbing in stride. He hadn't even whaled on Bozer too much for the booty comment once he caught him. Mac's living room had taken the brunt of the damage and he'd made them clean up all the thrown pillows and right the lamps before Bozer had headed out.
"I don't care about the pictures," Jack glanced from the album to Mac. "Although expect retribution for that at some point, brother. Remember I have access to all of the embarrassing photos Nana Beth has posted on The Facebook." Jack gave a grin. "I think Agent Cage might like to see your scrawny butt decked out in chaps and donning a Stetson as you danced your first two step. Maybe I'll throw in a few I have from over in the desert."
"You never bring out memorabilia from the sandbox." Mac dismissed his partner's empty threat, re-capping the water bottle and putting it down beside him on the deck. Jack didn't even share a lot about their time in Afghanistan with Bozer and Riley. "And Beth hasn't posted any of those infamous pictures on Facebook so unless you invite Cage to the ranch I don't have to worry about that not so flattering photo op anytime soon."
"I'm not really to the point where I consider Agent Cage one of us." Jack finished off his water, tossing the bottle into the fire. "Sharing my donuts is one thing, taking her home to meet the grandparents is quite another."
"Has Matty ever been there?" Mac looked at Jack. "To the ranch?"
"Hell no," Jack shook his head. "We were good friends back in the day, but not that good of friends. After she took advantage of my delicate nature and prone position in the med bay yesterday, the woman may never get an invite."
"You were apparently good enough friends for her to have already seen you naked?" Mac quirked a brow, recalling Matty's comment from the med unit. He doubted their director and Jack had been romantically involved but honestly with Jack Mac couldn't be completely sure and his partner had never come clean with the complete story behind what happened with him and Matty while they were in the CIA.
"Don't go there, Kid." Jack shook his head. "A lot of people have seen me naked. Including you."
"One, that is far more information than I needed when a simple no would have sufficed. Two, we've gone through war together, cohabitating in the same barracks, bathrooms, tents and more foxholes and caves than I care to remember." Mac pointed out. "And now we've shared an igloo."
"Not to mention body heat," Jack tossed out, his grin turning more typical for a moment as he kicked Mac's boot. "I can honestly say I have never shared body heat with Matilda Weber or anyone else on our team for that fact."
"You swore you'd never bring that up." Mac narrowed his gaze, recalling the hours after they had first crash landed in the blizzard like conditions. He'd hit his head pretty hard when the chopper went down. When he'd come to Jack had already devised shelter and been trying to keep Mac warm.
"That was before you showed my naked pictures to everyone-including Cage." Jack gave a shrug, his teasing smile fading beneath the other emotion Mac hadn't been able to peg earlier. "Of course she already thinks I'm the crazy old codger of an uncle in our group so what's a little more fodder for her to consider."
Caught off guard by the comment, Mac studied his partner for a long moment. "You know we were joking about that, right?"
"Of course," Jack nodded. "What's not funny about being the Uncle Milt of our family?"
"Who?"
"My great uncle Milton," Jack explained, turning to face Mac. "Married to my grandfather's baby sister, Rosalee. You remember her, big red hair, smells like Lilacs and wears lots of costume jewelry."
"Rosie I know." Mac searched his brain for any memory of a husband Rosalee might have had. Considering the feisty old woman liked to pinch Mac's cheeks and not the ones on his face, he'd thought she was either a spinster or a widow. "I don't recall meeting Milton. Is he dead?"
"Hell no he's not dead," Jack snorted. "JP says the crazy bastard will outlive them all. You've never met him because Nana Beth nor no one else can stand him. From his poor taste in jokes to his love of all things Pittsburg Steelers, the man is the family pariah and unofficially blacklisted when it comes to all family gatherings."
"Jack…" Mac started only to have his best friend raise a hand to cut him off.
"I get it, Mac. I really do. I annoy you all with my unsolicited advice and long winded speeches." Jack met Mac's gaze and held it. "But I only do it for your own good. It's my job to look out for you, the other's too, so if you want to see me as Milt, I can live with that." Jack offered Mac a self-deprecating grin. "I mean, I've always considered myself the older, wiser, much better looking brother, but in the end what matters most is I'm damn lucky that you all consider me family. I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't think you saw me in that way."
"Jack, you are my family." Mac hadn't contemplated that his partner could ever doubt or feel insecure about the position he played in Mac's life. It wasn't like Mac was overly open or in tuned with actually saying how he felt but he'd believed there was always a mutual, albeit mostly unspoken, understanding between him and the older agent. Always.
"Then like I said, kid, the role doesn't really matter." Jack stood, picking up a few beer bottles he'd missed earlier. "You want me to swing by on the way into Phoenix tomorrow?"
Mac watched Jack start for the house, obviously intent on heading out. A sudden need to make sure Jack understood he was nowhere in the same league as Uncle Milt had Mac rushing to his feet, intent on stopping his partner from leaving. Only the world had other ideas as it somehow decided to suddenly and unexplainably tilt on its axis.
The seeming betrayal by gravity had Mac's head spinning, a sharp pain making itself known at the front of his skull. His vision tunneled, black darkening the edges. Blinking brought a sparking of light and Mac must have groaned or maybe uttered some expletive because just as he swayed and was certain to fall headfirst unnervingly close to the fire pit, Jack was there. Just like always.
"Whoa, brother." Strong hands gripped Mac's arms, guiding him back a few steps until Mac felt wood brush against his legs. "Easy now," Jack said, lowering him to the bench seat. Mac sensed more than saw his partner take a knee on the deck in front of him.
"Jack." The name came out a bit strangled, Mac wincing at the fear laced in the one syllable. It was a strange sensation for one's own voice to sound foreign, and worse, weak, but the unanticipated dizzy spell had caught Mac in a vulnerable moment. Being out of control of anything, especially of one's body, was not something Mac handled on the best of days.
"I'm here." One of Jack's hands moved from Mac's arm to the side of his face. "You with me?"
Mac shook his head, forcing his eyes open to find his partner's worried brown gaze. "What happened?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." Jack's touch moved to Mac's throat, fingers pressing gently into his neck. "You've gone three shades paler than your usual paper white and your pulse is rabbiting right along."
"Is that even a word?" Mac ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried hard to breathe through his nose as his stomach joined in the assault taking place against his body.
"You going to be sick?" Jack asked instead of answering Mac about the validity of 'rabbiting' belonging in a proper dictionary.
Mac would have liked to have said no, but the sweat he could feel budding on his forehead and the way his mouth watered made any denial wishful thinking. Jack seemed to understand the lack of reply if the rustle of rushed movement was anything to go on. Mac heard the tell-tale splash of water as Jack dumped the ice bucket that earlier had held their drinks. The older agent managed to make it back across the deck and expertly place the now empty container in front of Mac just in time for Mac's meager dinner of donuts and chips to make a spectacular encore appearance.
"Easy, kiddo," Jack said, his hand rubbing between Mac's shoulders as Mac's body continued dry-heaving for what was assuredly only seconds but to Mac seemed somewhere between fifteen minutes and eternity.
"That sucked," Mac managed as he felt well enough to brace his hands on his knees and push himself to sitting up straight once more.
"I'll second that." Jack had opened Mac's water bottle and proceeded to hand it to him. "Just how many beers did you have, bud? A light weight like you should never try and impress the ladies with your drinking prowess."
"Funny." Mac took the water with a slightly shaky hand, washing his mouth out before taking a small sip. He narrowed his gaze at Jack. "I'm not drunk, Jack."
"Then maybe you're the one who needs to visit Doc Carl, because I ate everything you did and I'm feeling fine and dandy." Jack used his foot to push the bucket away from them, his full blown watch dog gaze never leaving Mac's face. "Unless I missed something from before. This isn't any kid of radiation poisoning thing is it? If you start glowing…"
"It's not got anything to do with the bomb." Mac shook his head in exasperation, instantly regretting it. Another groan escaped before he could bite back on it and Jack's hand once more found the back of his neck. "Not exactly.
"I was kidding before, but maybe I should call medical."
"No." Mac met his partner's gaze, letting a pleading look suffice this time in stopping Jack from doing anything unnecessary. "There's nothing they can do for a mild concussion that I can't do here."
"Concussion?" Jack's touch fell away and his worry was partially eclipsed by a hint of anger. "Come again."
"You know I hit my head when we crashed."
"That was five days ago."
Mac shrugged. "So, I might have hit my head against the floor during the blast and it might have been in about the same spot as I hit it in the helicopter."
"So much for that nuclear blast being awesome." Jack sighed. "The whole banging your noggin might have been something to mention earlier. Like after our celebratory chest bump or before Bozer arranged our little impromptu poker game."
"I felt fine then. I feel better now." Mac made an effort to roll his shoulders back, cursing not for the first time the body's inability to control skin pallor and pupil dilation at will. "I think I just stood up a little too quickly."
"Right." Jack didn't look convinced as he pressed the back of his hand against Mac's damp forehead with a frown. "You're clearly a vision of health."
"Concussions don't cause a fever." Mac knocked his partner's hand away with a scowl. Sometimes Jack treated him like he was all of ten.
"No, but pneumonia can," Jack replied with a huff. Mac cursed Nurse Sally for even suggesting that their prolonged exposure to the cold and wet conditions might bring on certain respiratory maladies, going so far as giving them both a checklist of symptoms to watch for. "Plus it's a habit," Jack confessed, sheepishly. "Like that thing parents do in a car, when they automatically throw their arms across their kid when they have to break unexpectedly." A wan smile played at Jack's mouth. "My old man did that to me up until he died."
"Well, you're not my dad." Mac blamed his current misery for the thoughtless rebuff and the fact it came out sounding much like the words of a petulant teenager. The fact Jack had on occasion done the very thing to Mac that he'd related his dad doing to him might have also been a contributing factor to Mac's rudeness. There was also the glaring reminder that Mac could not remember his own father showing any such regard for his safety. If Jack was offended by the remark he didn't show it. Instead he stood, grinning down at Mac.
"No, I'm crazy old Uncle Jack. That's been made pretty clear." Jack reached a hand out to help Mac up. "Come on, kid. Let's get you inside."
Mac thought about declining the help but the fact his legs still felt shaky had him accepting the assist up, his guilt also a playing a part. He didn't even rebuke Jack's hovering or that his partner practically shepherded him to the couch, not relaxing his sheep dog stance until Mac was reclined against the pillows, boots removed and his feet up.
"Better?" Jack asked from his position on the coffee table across from Mac.
"I don't feel like I'm going to hurl again." Mac opened one eye, hoping he pulled off a somewhat menacing glare. "Does that answer your question?"
Jack's response was to pull the blanket from the back of the sofa and haphazardly spread it over Mac. "Not puking is always a plus in my book, although I'm sure Doc Carl would ask some other follow up questions to guestimate if your massive brain was bleeding out inside your skull."
"I'm not hemorrhaging, Jack," Mac assured emphatically before Jack could start rattling off ridiculous questions that no doctor would ever ask, like the exact date he lost his virginity and who donned last year's cover of Sport's Illustrated Swimsuit edition.
"Seeing as how you're not a bonifide physician I think I'll stick around tonight just in case. Keep an eye on you." Jack glanced at his watch and then back to Mac. "I'll crash in the recliner."
"It's late, Jack." Mac felt the need to protest, even though moments earlier he'd hoped Jack would stay. His emotions were all over the place and if the annoying phenomena had been relegated to the time frame after their crash Mac could and would have quickly blamed it on the head wound. As it was, Mac would have been lying to himself if he hadn't pinpointed the erratic feelings as having set in from the time his father's letter had been returned to him undeliverable. He met his partner's gaze, trying to erase the misery he knew was probably easily read in his own. "Just go home and get some sleep."
"By the time I get home, it will almost be time to turn around and come back," Jack pointed out, ignoring Mac's request. "Speaking of time, I got you something."
Mac shifted against the couch pushing himself straighter. "Why?"
"What is it with you and that word?" Jack frowned at him, standing so he could reach the back pocket of his jeans. "Everything is all about the why and what for. I don't need a reason to get you something, but this I kind of owed you." Jack retrieved a small zip lock bag, tossing it to Mac before once more taking a seat on the coffee table. "My watch guy, Hughie, promised me that this crown is the right one to fit the winding stem on your father's watch."
Mac caught the bag, studying the tiny piece of metal inside. It was identical to the one Mac had used to rig his snow mobile radio. He tore his gaze from the gift to stare at his partner. "You have a watch guy?"
"Actually he's my go to knife and gun guy, but he also deals in Rolexes and the occasional designer purse." Jack pointed to the bag. "Not only does he have a disturbing number of random pieces and parts for a bazillion different time pieces, he's also willing to look over those gears you were going on about in your dad's watch. If one's newer or out of place, he'll know. We can swing by his shop when you're feeling better."
"I don't know what to say." Mac gripped the crown in his hand, lifting his eyes to study his partner's face. Jack's ability to understand what Mac needed sometimes even before Mac understood himself was a continual surprise.
"No need to say anything, kid." Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I was the one who suggested you use the watch piece to save my ass-literally. I was also the one who talked you into writing your dad in the first place. Don't think I haven't questioned the wisdom in that particular decision in the months since, but I'm in this for the long haul. We're going to find him and you're going to have your answers. No matter what it takes."
"Finding him has nothing to do with me lacking a family, you know." Mac had figured that out months ago, but he felt the need to share the revelation with his best friend. He looked down at the watch crown, toying with the sealed bag. Mac wasn't sure what finding his dad would mean, but he had no grand delusions of a Disney-like reunion. He forced a half grin, because he no longer needed his dad in the way he had as a kid. "I mean with Bozer, Riley, and good old Uncle Jack, I have about all the people I could ever want."
"Nah, brother. That's no way to look at it." Jack gave a slow shake of his head. "Nana Beth would tell you that a man should never snub his nose at the rare opportunity for another person to love. There's always room for one more when it comes to family." The older agent's good-natured smiled turned into a more pointed look. "Take our team for instance. For a long time it was just you and me. Then Riley, Bozer, and Matty came along."
"And now Cage," Mac said, only to have Jack drop his chin to his chest, muttering something Mac couldn't quite make out, but sounded a lot like 'freaking Matty'.
When Jack lifted his head he gave the younger man a look fraught with understanding. "I get it, Mac. I do, really. She's got guts and smarts, and she ain't too hard on the eyes if you like the Aussie Barbie Doll type, which I do, but how about you curb your enthusiasm just a bit on that one." Mac must have frowned because Jack's countenance became grim. "I'm serious. It's not like I'm saying we can't welcome her into the fold, but it's like I said about the ranch earlier. There's letting someone in and then really letting them in. I don't know if we're getting the whole picture with her and after Thornton I'm not big on taking people on face value alone."
"I thought you liked her."
"I do," Jack nodded. "She's cool and she seems to have our backs. Matty apparently trusts her. But I don't know her, brother, and neither do you. So until I do, I'd rather you just take your time finding common ground and maybe not just jump feet first like..." Jack hesitated.
"Like with Nikki," Mac filled in what he knew his partner was thinking. When Jack didn't deny his comparison, Mac gave a careful shake of his head this time. "This is nothing like the Nikki situation."
"So, Cage isn't beautiful, coy, wicked smart, and obviously enchanted with your big brain?" Jack snorted. "Dude take away the accent, add a few inches in height and some mad-fighting skill and you basically have Nikki without the mad-hacking ability." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, giving a sigh that let Mac know he'd been turning the conversation over in his head for a while. "All I'm saying is I haven't missed the way she looks at you, man, and it seems I once remember Nikki giving me a similar spill about not co-mingling at work when she first joined DXS. Imagine my surprise when not too long after her little declaration I happened upon her giving you a very hands on keyboarding lessons in our surveillance van that had nothing to do with sharing her compute smarts and…"
"Fine!" Mac held up a hand to ward off the embarrassing for oh so many reasons trip down memory lane. "I'll watch myself with Cage if it will make you happy."
"Ecstatic." Jack patted Mac's leg. "Now if you'll take the Ibuprofen I'm going to get from the first aid kit, we can both catch some sleep before work tomorrow."
"Jack?" Mac reached out and caught hold of his partner's wrist effectively stopping him from leaving the room.
"Mac?" Jack raised a brow, waiting.
Mac opened his mouth, very much wanting to broach the topic that had propelled him off the bench earlier, spurning the dizzy spell that had landed him on the couch and at the receiving end of Jack's care, instead of the intended respite Mac had been determined to offer his partner. The conversation they should have been having about how Jack was nothing like an Uncle Milt and was indeed the big brother Mac hadn't ever realized he'd wanted or needed had morphed into another of Jack's rousing pep talks about them finding Mac's dad, and surprisingly the added caution on getting entangled with Cage. Mac wasn't completely convinced he'd been able to engage in such an exchange even if he hadn't been outmaneuvered by his concussion because even now the words he'd hoped to say seemed trapped, tucked away in a vault of his own making. A psyche safe that was even more impenetrable than the one they'd encountered at the casino.
"You okay?" Jack asked again, his face once more reflecting concern at Mac's inability to form words. He took a seat on the edge of the couch, looking very much like he wanted to check Mac's forehead for fever again just to be sure.
"I wanted to tell you that… I'd like to go to the ranch for a while." Mac was surprised not so much by the unexpected words he hadn't planned on, but by the fact that once he'd said them, he actually found the idea of going to Austin appealing as if he had unwittingly plucked the desire from his subconscious. "Just the two of us, you know. We could do some fishing and maybe even take a trail ride."
"Okay, now I know you knocked something loose in that ginormous brain of yours." Jack leaned forward, running his hands over Mac's hair in search of the massive goose egg he was certain to find.
"I'm serious." Mac pulled away with a huff. "Talking to Beth made me feel…I don't know, homesick."
"Angus MacGyver, California Kid, Hollywood, himself homesick for Texas?" Jack moved out of Mac's space, his smile more genuine than it had been all night. "Wait until I tell Nana Beth."
"I already told her." Mac rolled his eyes at Jack's use of his litany of nicknames from when they'd first met in the Army. "Why do you think she sent me a little taste of home along with the photo album?"
"Nana Beth over-nighted you cherry cobbler?" Jack's teasing grin gave way to a glower of jealousy. He folded his arms over his chest, regarding his young partner. "I don't even get that treatment on my birthday, dude."
"Actually it was some of her pumpkin bread with pecans and white chocolate chips." Mac shrugged. "And maybe some snickerdoodles."
"You were going to hold out on me?" Jack growled, looking slain by the betrayal.
"No." Mac hedged. "I was just waiting until everyone else left to let you in on the secret."
"So no sharing the loot with your siblings, the Wonder Twins, or the new kid next door, Kick Ass Girl?" Jack arched a brow in disbelief. "Forgive my suspicious nature, but the Milts of the world never get first dibs, brother."
Mac made the risky decision not to let them slide back into the humor deflection pattern they so often repeated. He boldly held Jack's gaze, remaining serious. "Then it's a good thing you're not some crazy old uncle. You're my partner and in my book the guy that has my back is at the front of the line when it comes to family."
Jack blinked, giving a quick nod. "Thanksgiving."
"What?" Mac frowned at the odd answer to what he hoped was, in his own way, a profession of the depth of affection he had for his partner. He hoped he hadn't bungled it completely as Jack usually had a way of deciphering his well-meant attempts at such sentiment.
"We spend it at the ranch. Just the three of us," Jack said with a mega-wat grin, rubbing his hands together in mock anticipation. "You, me and the mighty fine dinner table Nana Beth is bound to dress in all her Paula Dean and Martha Stewart glory."
Mac let a smile find its way through his worry and apprehension. "I think that might work."
"Of course it will work." Jack held out his fist, giving a slight bob of his eyebrow. "Have I ever let you down, brother?"
"Never." Mac bumped his hand against Jack's with a light laugh that had the rest of his unease unfurling. He understood in that moment that it didn't matter how others saw Jack or even all the different roles he might actually fill in Mac's life. Doting uncle, protective older brother, a bit of father thrown in for good measure. What mattered most was how Jack saw Mac, and that was and always would be as his number one priority.