As he drove, Jack kept one eye on his passenger the whole time.
Mac was braced against the door, sandy head leaning against the window, eyes closed. It was obvious he was in pain and trying not to let it show. Jack decided against telling the kid that he was failing miserably.
It ate at Jack that the kid had gotten hurt. They had been exiting a building in Barcelona, after retrieving government files that had been stolen three days ago. The bad guys chasing them hadn't played fair and had tossed a grenade after them. Mac had been caught in the tail end of the explosion, the blast throwing the kid against a wall and dazing him. Jack had laid cover fire while Riley, in a move she had obviously learned from Jack, had driven the pick up van through the glass doors, providing cover as Jack hauled Mac into the back before Riley stomped on the gas and got them out of there.
Of course, making their escape couldn't be that easy. The bad guys had pursued them, shooting at them with Jack shooting back while Riley drove haphazardly down crowded streets, and Mac came up with one of his brilliant ideas to get them off their tail.
They had finally reached the airstrip, boarded the private plane and took to the air. Mac had reported into Thornton that the mission was accomplished and they were coming home. It wasn't until an hour had passed and the adrenaline had worn off that it had become clear that Mac was injured. Pretty much the entire left side of his body was bruised and aching, but he had refused to let Jack check him over. He had even refused to take Tylenol. Mac had an aversion to drugs of any kind.
So Jack had made a phone call to Thornton, and the car that was waiting for them when they landed took them straight to a private hospital where Mac hadn't been given the option to refuse treatment. The kid was still pissed about it, but Jack didn't care. He just wanted to get Mac home and, by home, Jack meant his own place. No way did he trust the kid to take the pain pills the doctor gave him and to rest as ordered. Turns out Mac had a mild concussion, bruised shoulder and cracked ribs. Like it or not, Jack was going to make Mac take his medicine and rest.
Pulling into his driveway, Jack parked the car and turned to his partner. "I know you're mad at me, but too bad. You never take care of yourself, so it's your own damn fault I have to treat you like a little kid."
Mac's response was to, slowly, ease his way out of the car and slam the door shut. Apparently a not smart move, since he hissed in pain and swayed on his feet.
Jack swallowed down a curse as he got out and of the car, then reached into the back for their duffle bags. He then joined Mac, who was trying not to look like he was leaning against the car for support. The kid was pale and shaky and the first order of business was to get him lying down then pump him full of drugs. "Inside, Mac," Jack ordered, knowing better than to offer any help. The kid would only hurt himself more trying to resist.
Scowling, Mac followed Jack inside, but he stopped just inside the door. He held out his right hand. "Hand over my bag, I'm going to shower."
"Meds first," Jack countered.
"Shower first," Mac shot back, glaring daggers at Jack.
Who knew which battles to pick, so he backed down on this one, but not without bartering. "You can shower first, but only if you agree to take your meds and lie down immediately after."
Mac heaved as much of a dramatic sigh as cracked ribs and an aching head would allow. "Fine."
"Promise?" Jack prompted. Mac never broke a promise, so Jack was going to make him keep his word.
"I promise," Mac whispered, accepting defeat on this one. He waggled his hand and Jack handed over his duffle bag.
As he watched Mac shuffle off towards the bathroom, Jack called after him, "You have ten minutes."
Mac froze. "Seriously? Thirty minutes," he countered. They both knew it would take him at least ten minutes to get undressed in his condition.
"Twenty," Jack shot back, mainly because he didn't trust that Mac could remain standing for more than that, and the last thing he wanted to do was find the kid collapsed in the shower.
"Twenty," Mac conceded, continuing on into the bathroom, where he firmly shut the door behind him.
Jack was pleased with himself. They were making progress. He dropped his own bag in his bedroom before heading into the kitchen and pulling the bottle of pain pills out of his jacket pocket. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and set it on the counter next to the pills. The moment Mac was out of the shower, he was swallowing his first dose of meds before Jack tucked him into the guest bed. Once that was done he would get a shower of his own, change into something more comfortable, then eat everything in sight. He was starving.
To that end he rummaged in the fridge, coming up empty. No surprise there, he was never home long enough to stock up on groceries. So Chinese take out it was. He would order enough to himself and Mac stuffed for the next two days. After that they could order pizza. Jack had just hung up with the local take out place when Mac exited the bathroom.
"Come sit and take your pills," Jack called out, waving him over. "I hope you're hungry, I called for Chinese takeout."
"I really don't need the pills," Mac complained, slowly and stiffly making his way over to the counter. He opted not to sit though.
Jack noticed but refrained from commenting. Instead he slid the water bottle over to Mac, even as he opened the pills and shook one into his hand. As he held it out he said simply, "You promised."
There was a long pause as Jack could almost see the gears working in Mac's big brain. In the end the kid sucked it up and took the pill, glaring at Jack all the while. But with his damp hair all ruffled, his feet bare and dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and baggy sweat pants, Mac looked all of about sweet sixteen and about as threatening as a kitten. Although kittens did have claws, Jack reminded himself, and the kid could be prickly at times.
Once the pill was swallowed, Jack gestured towards the guest room. "Why don't you go lie down until the food comes?" He posed it as a suggestion, but he meant it as an order.
"Why don't you stop worrying about me?" Mac shot back.
"It's my job to worry about you," Jack reminded him.
Mac rolled his eyes, an almost grin curving his lips. "You don't get paid to worry about me. Nice try."
Jack shrugged. "Worrying about you is a bonus. Or is that a hazard of the job?" He smirked. "I get that confused."
"Sure." There was a random paper clip on the counter top, next to a pile of old news papers, and Mac snagged it, his slim fingers working it into a different shape.
It always amused Jack to see what the kid came up with, but after a moment Mac set the piece of wire down and it was nothing more than a straight line. Which was more telling to Jack than anything the Mac might admit too. He was hurting and unable to focus. Jack wanted to tuck him straight into bed. He moved to herd the kid out of the kitchen. "Come on, time for bed. I'm sure that pill is going to kick in any minute. So you rest while I shower, by then the food should be here."
Mac looked like he was about to argue, but instead he let Jack guide him into the spare room. He even let Jack pull the covers back so he could crawl under them, but he stopped Jack cold when he tried to tuck him in. "I'm not ten years old, Jack," Mac protested. "I don't need to be tucked in...or fussed over."
"Okay, your loss." Jack held up his hands and backed away from the bed. "FYI, I'll be in the shower for a few, then I'll check in on you. I'll have my phone with me though, so buzz if you need me."
"I'll be fine, Jack." Mac carefully shifted position, wincing a bit, then he closed his eyes. "Go shower already, you stink."
Jack didn't take offense, because he actually did stink a bit and he couldn't wait to get clean and changed. "I'll be back in ten. Behave yourself, bro."
Despite his injury, the pillow Mac launched at Jack hit him in the face with perfect precision. "Get out," he muttered.
"Getting," Jack chuckled, tossing the pillow back on the bed, before hitting the light switch and exiting the room. He headed straight for the shower. Once the hot water hit his skin, Jack was in his element. While he soaped himself up from head to toe, he belted out his favorite tunes. Starting with Elton John and ending with Bon Jovi.
As always, when he was in the groove, he lost track of time. So by the time he dried off, got dressed and checked the time, almost twenty-five minutes had passed. Mac hadn't buzzed him, so hopefully the kid was asleep. Jack left the bathroom with the intention of checking on his charge, when the doorbell rang. Dinner.
Grabbing his wallet, Jack headed for the door, inhaling the tangy scent of orange chicken and General Tao's. He gave the delivery kid a five dollar tip before closing the door and locking it behind him. After depositing the bags on the counter, Jack finally went to check on Mac. He knocked on the door before entering the room, only to freeze in panic. The bed looked empty. Jack flicked on the light, and sure enough the bed and the room were empty.
"Mac!" Jack raced into the kitchen, even though he had just been there and he knew Mac wasn't. So he made quick work of checking every room. Nothing. No sign of the kid. Jack was about to retrace his steps when he noticed the back door was open. When he'd left for the mission, everything had been locked up tight.
He took the time to run to his bedroom to retrieve his firearm before heading outside. There was enough moonlight to see by and he moved quietly, sticking close to the house and he went around it's perimeter. As he neared the garage he heard noises. Someone was in there. Gun at the ready, Jack entered through the back door only to freeze at the sight before him. MacGyver was on his knees in the middle of the floor, surrounded by pieces of Jack's beloved Harley.
Shoving his gun into the back of his pants, Jack entered the garage, ready to yell.
Only Mac saw him and jumped to his feet, rushing over to Jack, eyes wide and bright, a smile threatening to split his face. "Shoot!" Mac exclaimed. "You ruined the surprise, but that's okay...it's all good." He threw up his hands and shouted, "Surprise!"
"What are you talking about?" Jack moved past him to check out the pieces scattered across the garage floor. "What did you do to my bike?"
"I took it apart," Mac replied. "Duh. How else was I going to clean it up and make it go faster. You have everything I need to soup it up, just the way you wanted. Are you surprised? You are surprised, right?" Mac rambled on without appearing to take a breath.
It was then that it hit Jack. This was not MacGyver. The kid got excited about things, sure, but he was never hyped up like this. Not only that, but he was moving around like an excited toddler at Christmas, his body vibrating with motion. Which meant he wasn't feeling the pain of his concussion, bruised shoulder and cracked ribs. Good to know the pain pills were working, but the doctor had assured Jack that the dosage was strong enough to put Mac out for at least six to eight hours, not send the kid into hyper overdrive.
Mac was babbling again, and pushing Jack towards the door. "You have to leave now so I can finish. Forget what you saw so it'll be a surprise. Okay? I really want you to be surprised. I'll be done in about twenty minutes. Bye now." He nearly managed to push Jack right out the door.
Clutching at the door frame Jack froze, refusing to budge. "You can fix my bike later, Mac," he said firmly. "Right now you need to come inside and eat dinner." And Jack needed to call the doctor and find out how long he was going to have to deal with hyped up MacGyver.
"Not hungry." Mac pouted, lower lip sticking out as he planted his hands on Jack's chest and tried to push him out the door.
"You need to eat," Jack insisted, planting himself like a tree and not moving. He was hoping that food would absorb whatever was in the damn pills making the kid act like this. Mac might not be feeling any pain right now, but all the physical movement was going to make itself felt, in a bad way, later on once the medicine had worn off. Jack didn't want his friend to suffer further. Which meant he couldn't haul Mac over his shoulder and carry him back in the house, even though it would make his life easier. Jack had used that tactic a few times in the past, but it wasn't a good idea when cracked ribs and a concussion were an issue. So he settled for the next best thing. Bribery.
Jack grabbed Mac by the wrists, as gently as he could, and said, "If you come inside with me right now, I'll let you eat ice cream before you have the rest of your dinner."
Mac's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Cookie dough ice cream?"
"Is there any other kind?" Jack always had a couple of tubs on hand for the kid. MacGyver didn't over indulge in sweets for the most part, but he had a weakness for cookie dough ice cream. Go figure. "Soooo...?" he gestured to the house. Only to find himself shoved out of the way as Mac raced for the kitchen.
By the time Jack had wept over his dismantled bike for a moment, even though he knew Mac could - and would - put it back together for him, it still hurt to see, and made his way back into the house, the kid was sitting at the counter digging into a tub of ice cream.
Relieved that Mac was back in the house and relatively safe and sound, Jack dug out a container of lo mein and dug in himself. He let Mac eat about a third of the tub of ice cream before taking it from him and offering orange chicken instead. Surprisingly, Mac accepted the exchange and ate a few pieces. But apparently that signaled the end of dinner time, because the kid jumped off his stool and headed into the livingroom.
"Where are you going?" Jack called after him.
"X-box!" Mac shouted back.
Jack groaned. Playing video games against MacGyver sucked. The kid had killer instincts and his ginormous creative and tactical brain always kept him about a dozen steps ahead of Jack. Still, maybe a few rounds of Sky Rim would mellow the Mac out enough to sleep.
So they played two rounds before Mac got bored and decided he wanted to go back to working on the motorcycle. Since Jack wanted it put back together, he figured it was as good an idea as any. So they returned to the garage and MacGyver went straight back to tinkering.
Jack sat on a folding chair, watching the kid put his bike back together piece by piece, and it was freaky the way Mac was moving like he was stuck in high gear. Every move he made was precise but a bit manic, still the bike was nearly back together in less than thirty minutes. Jack was exhausted just watching him, however it didn't look as if the kid was going to slow down any time soon.
"I'm hungry," Mac randomly announced, as he tightened a nut and bolt.
"Crap!" Jack had forgotten all about the food, including the ice cream. It was still sitting on the counter, melted by now. "I'll make sandwiches," he offered. "You stay right here, okay, Mac?"
Mac nodded. "Okay." He didn't look up from his tinkering.
Jack flew into the kitchen, tossing the tub of melted ice cream in the sink before sniffing the left over Chinese and deciding it was okay to put in the fridge. He then pulled out bread, jelly and peanut butter and slapped a few sandwiches together. He started to pull out two beers then remembered the kid was high on pain meds, so no alcohol for him. A soda was a bad idea as well, Mac didn't need anymore caffeine. Milk would have been a good option, if he had any that wasn't spoiled, so water it was. Maybe if Mac drank a few bottles it would flush the drug out of his system faster. Anything was worth a try.
A glance at his watch and Jack was ready to head back to the garage when his phone rang. Yanking it out of his pocket, Jack wasn't really surprised by who was calling. He swiped accept and held it to his ear. "Hello, Patricia. How's things?"
"The question is, how's Mac?" she countered, unruffled as always.
"He's...uh...sorta okay," Jack stated, fumbling with how to explain it.
Thornton's tone hardened. "What happened to Mac?"
Jack sighed. "The doctor who medicated happened, that's what. The told me the pain pills would knock Mac out for a few hours. Instead they've done the exact opposite."
"What do you mean?" Thorton demanded.
"Remember that time Mac drank three double expresso's in a row in attempt to stay awake on the Lisbon mission, after going without sleep for thirty-six hours?"
There was a long pause before Thornton said, "I remember."
Jack remembered too, all to well. "Well multiply that day by about ten and you'll understand what I'm dealing with right now. He took my Harley apart, Patty. My baby."
"I'm sure he'll put it back together," Thornton replied, not the least bit sympathetic to Jack's plight. "Just keep watch over him. If you break him I will punish you."
"I'm offended, Patricia." Jack scowled even though he knew she couldn't see his face. "MacGyver is my partner and my bro. I'm taking good care of him, although I want hazard pay for doing it. The kid is turning me prematurely gray."
It sounded like Thornton snorted before she stated, "Keep me updated."
Jack sighed as he listened to her hang up on him. Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he headed for the garage to check on his charge. He shouldn't have been surprised to find it empty, but he was all the same. The fact that his bike was back in one piece distracted Jack for a moment, but then he found his focus and ran out the door into the night. Again.
"MAC! Where are you? MAC!" Jack shouted until he felt himself growing hoarse. Stopping to rest against a nearby tree, Jack cursed at himself. He never should have left Mac alone, for all he knew the kid had collapsed somewhere and it would be all his fault. The buzz of his phone interrupted Jack's self-flagellation and he grabbed it out of his pocket almost to drop it when he saw who the text was from. MacGyver.
Jack tapped it open.
*STOP YELLING AND LOOK UP*
"What?" Jack read it again, and then it hit him. He stepped away from the tree then looked up. Sitting on a branch, about fifteen feet above his head, was MacGyver. "What are you doing up there?" Jack asked.
Mac shrugged. "Seeing how long it would take you to find me. I heard you coming a mile away. You really suck at the stealth thing."
Jack rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache forming. "I wasn't trying to be stealthy, Mac, I was trying to find you! Get down! NOW!"
"Not if you're going to yell at me," Mac replied, swinging his legs back and forth as he smirked down at Jack.
"Okay, this is me asking nicely," Jack countered, because he really was not in the mood to play games. He knew Mac couldn't help himself right now, but the minute the kid was on the ground Jack was going to tie him to a chair. "Please...come down. Now."
Mac tilted his head, as if studying Jack's sincerity. After a long pause he nodded and shifted on the branch. A moment later he landed lightly on his feet next to Jack. Those damn pills worked great, in that it was obvious the kid was feeling no pain, at least not now. But there was little doubt but that Mac was going to be hurting like a bastard later.
Still, Jack was glad that his friend was back on solid ground. He took Mac by his good arm and led him back into the house. He placed him on a stool at the counter then went about locking all the doors. By the time he made his way back around, Mac was standing at the stove, setting out a frying pan.
"What are you doing?" Jack asked.
"I'm hungry," Mac replied. "I'm making omelets."
Jack thought about stopping him, after all he had made perfectly good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for them to eat. But, truth be told, omelets sounded more appetizing and if Mac was busy making them, he was staying out of trouble.
Ten minutes later they were both eating omelets with toast. Jack, being a wise man, never turned down Mac's omelets. The kid had a real knack with eggs. However, the hunger Mac had stated feeling apparently had disappeared. The kid took about two bites then pushed his plate away. Before Jack could comment, Mac set about washing the dishes and cleaning up the entire kitchen, once again moving with quick, manic precision. Jack had only just scooped up his last bite when his plate was snatched out from under him. He didn't complain though, because fifteen minutes later he had a spotlessly clean kitchen.
"I'm going for a run," Mac announced, folding the dishcloth and laying it on the counter.
"No, you're not going for a run," Jack countered, blocking his path to the door. "I know you're not feeling it now, Mac...but once that pill wears off, man...you are going to be one hurting dude. So you need to go lay down or something. Okay?"
But Mac shook his head. "I can't sit still, Jack. I feel like my skin is buzzing and my mind won't shut off. I have to do something."
Jack studied the kid's face, realizing that he aware of his condition but helpless to change the circumstances. It was a waiting game for both of them, but Jack felt that maybe they were reaching the end of the road since Mac recognized what he was feeling. What the kid needed now was a distraction. Jack could provide that.
"I have an idea," he said. "Wait here." Without waiting for a reply, Jack ran into the livingroom and over to the desk in the corner. He opened the side door and pulled out a medium sized box. He'd been keeping it with the intent of giving it to Mac as a gag gift for his next birthday. But it turns out it might be the best present ever. Running back to the kitchen, Jack set the box on the counter.
"What is it?" Mac asked.
Jack pushed it towards him. "Open it and see."
Mac popped off the top and stared. Inside were mounds of paper clips in various sizes. "Um...I'm confused." But even as he said it, his fingers were twitching with the need to touch them.
"I have a challenge for you." Jack gestured to the box, then the empty counter top. "I want you to make me a paper clip version of the Eiffel Tower."
"Seriously?" Mac sounded doubtful, but he looked intrigued.
Jack could see the kid's big brain churning, working out the details of the structure piece by piece. "You can do it, right?" He figured a little nudge wouldn't hurt. "I mean...I get it if you can't."
Mac rolled his eyes, reaching for the box and pulling out a handful of clips. "Just watch me," he stated, his slim fingers already at work.
Grabbing a chair, Jack turned it around and settled himself in to do just that. Only he ended up falling into a doze after twenty minutes or so of watching Mac buzzing back and forth around the counter. He flitted here, there and everywhere like a bee in a flowerbed. It was exhausting. Jerking awake, Jack rubbed his bleary eyes then blinked hard. Covering his countertop was a perfect, paper clip replica of the Eiffel tower. It was pretty damn impressive.
What wasn't so impressive was the fact that Jack had misplaced MacGyver, yet again. Rising to his feet, Jack headed to the last place he expected to find his friend. The guest room. To Jack's surprise, Mac was curled up on the bed, sound asleep.
"Go figure," Jack muttered, glancing at his watch. Maybe it wasn't such a surprise after all, seeing as how four hours had passed. Four hours hunched over the chair explained why his bones ached. It also explained why Mac had finally crashed.
Moving to the bed Jack grabbed the rumpled blankets and pulled them over Mac, smoothing them down and resisting the urge to tuck them in. The kid had a smudge of oil on one pale cheek, his hair was ruffled and standing up in different directions and he looked generally rumpled and in need of another shower, but he was safe and relatively sound, so Jack was content.
Slipping out of the room, Jack reached for his phone. He knew once Mac woke up the kid would be hurting, so he'd do what he could to help, even if it meant waking up Thornton. She was more bite than bark, but for Mac he would risk it.
Phone call made, Jack made his way to his own room, finally slipping into bed. He could shower later too.
It was midday and Jack was showered and working on his second cup of coffee when Mac joined him in the kitchen. He had showered as well and was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt. His face was pale, his blue eyes were clouded with pain, and he moved slow and stiffly.
Jack pointed to the only part of the counter top that wasn't covered by Mac's paperclip masterpiece. He had a glass of orange juice and a bottle of pills at the ready.
Mac grimaced and cautiously shook his head. "No more pills."
"These are new pills," Jack countered. "I called Patricia last night and she made a few calls of her own and had these sent over. She assures me that the only affect they'll have on you is to manage your pain."
"About last night," Mac began, only for Jack to cut him off with a wave.
"No apologies necessary, my friend." Jack reached for the pill bottle and shook on capsule into his palm, which he held out to Mac. "You keep me on my toes, so it's all good. Now take the damn pill, it hurts to look at you hurting."
Mac started to laugh then thought the better of it. He took the capsule, swallowed it down with the orange juice, then leaned against the counter to study is masterpiece. "So...why did you have a box filled with paper clips?"
Jack shrugged. "It was supposed to be a gag gift for you. You can thank me later."
"I'll do that," Mac drawled. "So...you ready to drive me home?"
"You're not going home yet," Jack countered. "You get to hang out with me for a few days, watching Netflix, napping, snacking, healing..."
Mac cut him off. "I can do all that at home," he pointed out.
Jack grinned at him. "You could, but I don't trust you to actually rest and heal. And don't even think about sneaking out, I hid the keys to both cars and my bike."
"Like that would stop me," Mac stated, looking smug. "Speaking of your bike...did you take it for a test drive yet? I modified a few things. We could take it for a test run."
"Nice try, Mac...but no." Jack shook the paper, folded it in half, set it on the counter and rose to his feet. "Besides, I already took it for a test run to the donut shop. I got your favorite. Glazed." He retrieved the pink box and held it out to his friend. "There's three of them, you should eat them all."
Mac accepted the box, but plucked out only one. He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, then said, "I'm bored."
Jack buried his face in his hands and muttered, "Lord have mercy on my soul." A bored MacGyver was a scary MacGyver, and he was getting too old to deal with it. He seriously must have pissed off the Karma gods.
Jack was so busy bemoaning his fate he totally missed the wicked grin on MacGyver's face.
THE END