Warriors

By: Ridley

A/N: Sorry I didn't make my self-imposed Friday deadline but I hope this Sunday morning post is kind of the same-it is still technically the weekend. First, thank you for the very generous and kind reviews to the first chapter. I am sorry I haven't been able to respond to each one individually as this is my crazy time at work. My lovely beta says this part is a little short, but she gave me the thumbs up to go ahead and post anyway. Please note that this story takes place after a tag I haven't written yet. Lol. It's coming, I promise, but I have sprinkled in some teasers. Also, slight spoilers from the finale if you haven't seen it and don't want to know the big reveal. Read with caution.

RcJ

Mac's fears about the bullet's trajectory had been realized during the ambulance ride. Jack's ability to breathe had quickly deteriorated, even after the patient had been placed on his side and the wound bandaged. The paramedics administered oxygen but found it necessary to do the needle decompression that Jack had joked about. Mac had seen their medic, Pete, do similar field triage for a chest injury once, to a civilian that had been hit by shrapnel, but watching it happen to Jack was a whole different experience-one Mac couldn't quite get out of his head. Jack, although semi-conscious at that point, must have sensed his partner's fear because he'd quickly tossed out their typical gauntlet, this time breathlessly swearing that Iron Man could easily take Dr. Strange, hoping Mac's expected rebuff would distract him from the very real horror of what was happening around them. Mac had moved Jack's oxygen mask back in place, managing an eye roll even though their game did little to alleviate his worry, especially when Jack had finally succumbed and passed out.

He glanced down at his wrist, expecting to see his father's watch strapped there. He'd stopped wearing the timepiece after the sordid truth had come out, not selling it on online as he'd threatened to Riley before Oversight's identity had been revealed, but instead quietly placing it in the same shoebox where he kept his mother's old hospital bracelet and Harry's favorite pipe. Jack had pointed out that the watch did Mac very little good beneath one of the loose floorboards in his bedroom, but he couldn't bring himself to wear it any longer. Besides, phones had a plethora of uses, even telling time.

One glance at his cell told him Jack had been in surgery for over an hour. He gripped the flannel shirt he'd been holding since the paramedic had handed it to him when Mac had climbed into the back of the rig, trying to stay out of the way, but still maintain eye contact with his best friend. It was the one he'd used to try and stop Jack's bleeding and the ruined material, was still damp and sticky in his hands.

Mac thought about tossing it but found he couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate, as if it were some kind of physical link, the only one he'd had with his partner since Jack had been whisked into the ED. Even during the paperwork and questions from admitting, Mac had kept hold of the shirt, a tangible reminder that Jack was still with him. He wasn't going anywhere.

It was childish and irrational, and maybe a bit superstitious, but Mac would toss it when he got to see for himself that Jack was okay. The surgeon he'd spoken to had been confident that he could remove the bullet and repair the damage that had been done by the projectile which had lodged in a rib after passing through the top region of Jack's lung.

Another glance at the phone, showed a new message from Bozer, a picture of him and Leanna at his parent's in Mission City where they were attending the Bozer's annual welcome to summer cookout, both holding huge burgers and sporting matching grins. Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if he should have at least let the rest of his team know what was going on. Riley was also away, taking advantage of the long weekend to spend time with Billy. Jack had received a check in from her on Saturday, letting them know she and Billy had made it to the cabin Mac had offered up, much to Jack's horror, the idea of a romantic getaway still too much for him to stomach. Mac had received only one other snarky text, alerting him that he should have warned her about the squatters at his grandfather's place. Apparently a family of raccoons were living under the porch.

Even Matty had taken a rare opportunity to get away, proving to Mac that the last few weeks had taken their toll on the director. At the least, he could give them a few more hours of 'normal'. When Jack was out of surgery, he'd make the decision to call them back, and even harder, decide whether to call his partner's grandparents.

"Angus?"

The voice was unexpected and instantly chased away the thoughts of JP and Beth Dalton, the effect much like having a bucket of ice water tossed on you during a hot July day.

"What are you doing here?" Mac blinked, placing the cell phone in the empty chair beside him. He glanced around, noting the same faces he'd taken in when he'd purposively chosen a seat as far away as he could manage from other visitors. Finding his father towering over him was surreal to say the least.

"Matilda called me." James didn't wait for an invitation, instead claiming the chair in front of Mac. There was a small coffee table filled with magazines in between the two leather seats and Mac had an odd moment of dejavu. When he was a boy, his father had been called into Mac's school after an 'incident' with another child had landed the younger MacGyver in the principal's office. He'd been just as unhappy to have his dad show up that day as well and if the frown on James's face was any indicator, he was of a similar mind.

"How did Matty know I was here?" Even as Mac asked, he realized he was naïve to think their director wouldn't have some failsafe in place for when one of her team was suddenly entered into a medical database. She really did have eyes in the back of her head and her ear constantly to the ground as Bozer was fond of reminding them. For all Mac knew, he and his friends might have been tagged with secret embedded trackers. He wouldn't put it past the evil Nurse Sally to be in collusion and slip something in while giving one of her notorious necessary vaccinations.

"One of her employees was shot in a convenience store hold up, Angus." James leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he regarded his son with a look of clear disappointment. "It would have been nice if Phoenix had been informed by one of their own of what transpired."

"You mean I should have called Oversight?" Mac arched a brow, his temper flaring at the dressing down. He was no longer a child who could be reprimanded. "That's funny because I've never had his direct line in all the years I've been employed. I thought he only dealt in 'need to know' information."

"Things are different now, of which you are well aware. I think I needed to know my son and his partner were involved in a robbery, especially since they both work for me."

"It appears you were informed." Mac still didn't understand the dynamics of his father's and Matilda Weber's relationship. Jack had some theories, ones Mac didn't want to spend too much time entertaining-for good reason. No kid wanted their parent in some scandalous secret love affair with their boss. It was like having your dad date your principal. Awkward.

"I would have rather it came from you, son." James voice lowered, gentled even. It didn't have the soothing effect he knew the man was going for. In fact, the term 'son' had the opposite result.

"Why did you come here? You could have called me." James MacGyver's presence suddenly felt entirely too much like an unwelcomed intrusion. Mac gripped his flannel shirt, the slight smell of copper making his stomach churn. His father's face reflected a hint of tired defeat, made more impactful by the fading shadow of purples and yellow bruising around his left eye. It had been weeks since Jack had punched the man before their exfi had showed in Peru, and Mac couldn't help but to feel a slight perverse pleasure that his father still donned the marks of that moment. After all, James had been the reason they'd ended up hostages of a drug cartel and in the hands of a madman. Of course Jack hadn't hit James MacGyver for leading them straight into Walsh's web for the second time, but instead it had been the result of James daring to put his hands on Mac.

Oversight ducked his head, giving an exhale that spoke to him not liking to explain his actions, neither to a son, nor an employee. "Honestly, I thought you might want some company. I don't know about you, but hospital waiting rooms are not the easiest places for me to be." He raised his gaze to meet Mac's once more, a flash of something unfamiliar and hopeful brimming in his father's gaze as if he expected they might bond over memories that were better left unmentioned. "I know Bozer and Ms. Davis are out of town. Matilda, too. I didn't want you to be alone."

Mac might have laughed at the irony of that last statement. His father had no problem letting Mac think he was alone for fifteen years, but Jack was right. If Mac was going to move forward, if he truly was going to give working for his father a genuine effort, then he would have to let go of the past. No matter hard that might prove. Mac swallowed the bitterness he wanted to let spew, letting loose a sigh instead.

"I appreciate that, but I'm not alone. Jack's here."

James made a point of glancing around the room before letting his eyes settle on the bloody shirt Mac had twisted around his fingers. "Not currently."

"You know what I mean." Mac narrowed his gaze at his father, who looked all too keen to give a quick reply which might have been the equivalent of carelessly tossing kerosene on a campfire.

James seemed to think better of it. He gave a slight shake of his head, before gesturing to his own face. "Dalton drove home just what a presence he is in your life. He's got your back. I get it. You don't necessarily need me at this point. I'm lucky to be allowed to breathe the same air as you. He's been more of a father to you than I have and I damn well better not forget it." Mac recognized the words Jack had yelled at the man as Carlos had practically drug him off James. His father tilted his head, catching his gaze. "But you have to admit, and I think your overwatch would agree, you're pretty much on your own at this juncture, in a situation that is less than pleasant. I don't think Jack would want that, especially if…"

"Jack is going to be fine." Mac wanted to add that his father had no idea what Jack would want, but then maybe the man had been rather enlightened by their physical encounter. Mac had been there for the fight, which was entirely one sided. It was mostly his fault, after all, although Jack had taken full blame when exfil arrived and Oversight was still trying to get up off the ground.

Mac had said something- something possibly unforgivable and completely brat-like to his father- and James had snapped. He'd grabbed Mac by the front of the shirt, jerking him up from where he'd been sitting next to Carlos. Mac wasn't sure if his father would have struck him, he seriously doubted it, but maybe he'd been asking for it just a bit, poking the tiger every chance he got. The tiger never saw Papa Bear coming. From what Mac understood, Jack and James had also engaged in a very long discussion in Oversight's office days later before Jack had agreed to come back and work for Phoenix. Hiring Jack back of course had been a condition of Mac returning, but Jack had made sure it was on his own terms as well.

"I don't doubt that," James said, breaking Mac's reverie. The older MacGyver glanced at his watch. "The last update I received from my source in the suite said the surgery was going as expected and the damage was not any worse than they had anticipated."

"Wait. You got an update?" Mac didn't know whether to be pissed or grateful. He was listed as Jack's next of kin and hadn't heard one peep since the surgeon briefed him before going into the OR. It shouldn't have surprised him. Oversight was akin to the great all knowing Oz, which was ironic considering Mac's last Halloween costume.

"About twenty minutes ago. Don't worry. It sounds like Dalton is once more defying the odds and proving he is the invincible soldier he believes himself to be."

"Jack doesn't think he's invincible," Mac reconsidered his father's new perspective on his partner. Apparently, he still didn't understand him at all. "Expendable, yes, replaceable even, but not invincible."

James raked a hand through his hair in a very familiar manner. "Then maybe he and Walsh are truly cut from different molds, because Jonah was nothing if not cock sure he was undefeatable."

"If what we went through in Peru didn't prove to you how different your partner and my partner are, then you really are just as arrogant and self-centered as you continually prove yourself to be."

"I know you're hurting so I'm going to excuse that blatant disrespect." James leaned forward in a way that was perhaps meant to point out once more that Jack wasn't anywhere in sight this time. "I understand I screwed up with Walsh and my mistake nearly cost you, Carlos and Dalton your lives. Believe me, I get it. But I lost something over there, too, in that damn jungle in case you've forgotten. Whether you believe me or not, Jonah meant something to me. I wasn't lying when I said he was my best friend. He was the closest I came to having a brother." James nodded to Mac's shirt, then met his son's gaze once again. "You should understand what I lost."

It wasn't that Mac didn't believe what his father was saying, only that he'd come to understand that James MacGyver's capability for friendship, or any deep meaningful relationship for that matter, might have been terribly skewed. Comparing his and Jonah's relationship to Mac and Jack's was like using the same measurement tool for the depth of water and the strength of steel. There was no relativity. Whether James' difficulty forming connections merely stemmed from his vast intellect, or his wife's death, maybe a combination of both, Mac wasn't sure.

"Jack is nothing like Walsh," Mac responded simply, unsure of what else to say. He could have gone on to tell Oversight that Jack Dalton was worth ten thousand Jonahs, that choosing between them was like choosing light over eternal darkness. That if Mac hadn't valued human life so highly, he might have made a point of sharing that even choosing to save his robot Sparky over the likes of a man like Jonah Walsh could be justified, but Mac had never been one for needless cruelty, cutting sarcasm when needed yes, but never cruelty.

"I see that now." James gave a tired, but weary smile and Mac felt his heart stir for the man he was trying so hard not to empathize with. "Although if I'd realized that pertinent fact and their distinction eight years ago, I might have chosen someone else entirely to watch over you in Afghanistan."

Mac's resolve hardened and he glanced away for a moment. The idea his father had a hand in the relationship he had with Jack was still a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. "Jonah told me that he helped you with that as well."

Told, taunted, it resulted in the same effect. Mac had felt sick when the big man used the information with all the effectiveness of a cattle prod. The fact that Walsh had his dirty little fingers on all the strings being pulled in Mac's life had added insult to injury. Jack had made it a point to throw out a Nana Beth-ism, declaring that all that proved was that God could use any evil and ugly thing the devil could conjure to put one of his own grand plans in place. In pure Jack fashion, he'd gone on to point out that Walsh was about the ugliest, evilest creature he'd run across, not to mention being a traitor and a backstabber, which had only made an already dire situation much worse, but had effectively drawn Jonah's attention from Mac and showered Jack with the full brunt of his rage.

"It's true he helped me cull the original list." James did not appear surprised Mac was in on the dirty truth, nor nearly as apologetic as Mac believed he should have been for allowing Walsh to perform such a task. The dismay must have shown on his face, because James frowned. "He was a trusted confidant, Angus. My partner. And despite how he turned out, he was a brilliant strategist, and he understood men's motivations and their most basic nature in a way I have always lacked. It's true Jack Dalton was in his top three picks, but he wasn't Jonah's favorite, even though he agreed Dalton had the most skill with a sniper's rifle and probably the highest drive to protect, he had someone else in mind."

Mac felt both relief that Jack hadn't been Jonah's top choice, and slightly offended on his partner's behalf. He frowned at his father. "Then what made you pick Jack?"

"Honestly, I saw in his records that he'd just lost his dad." James shrugged, when Mac gave him a look of incredulity. "I read his psych evals and realized he didn't really have any other strong family ties besides his grandparents. He'd always wanted children but…"

"Meaning he fit into your formula." Mac grit his teeth, remembering that Jonah had laughed about the actual scientific data his partner, Mac's brilliant father, had compiled and used to compute how to choose perfect pairings of scientist and soldier. It all fed into what Jack termed 'The Wonky Winter Soldier Agenda'. "You fed his stats into your computer and picked the person to pair your son with?"

"No." James shook his head. "I mean yes, I did look at the data, but Matilda is the one who convinced me, even after I pointed out that Dalton's time was almost up in Delta. She promised Jack was one of the most dedicated, loyal, upstanding agents she'd worked with in the CIA, that he would give a hundred percent to any mission, and wouldn't give up on it until it was completed, even an assignment he might not be particularly eager to participate in."

"You didn't think Jack would like me." Mac folded his arms over his chest, biting back on his desire to declare he wasn't just some mission to Jack. He was family. And family was what Jack Dalton was ultimately committed to, what drove him to the lengths he'd go, not the damn mission.

"Actually, that was based on personal experience. Jonah said if you were anything like me then Dalton would want to throttle you within seconds of meeting you. He bet me that I'd be going back to his top choice."

"I can't say he was wrong about that," Mac conceded, begrudgingly. He and his partner had not had the smoothest of beginnings. "Of course I didn't really care for him either. Special Forces in general were an enigma to me."

"Same here." James nodded. "But I trusted my stats and more importantly Matilda's advice. After what happened to Pena, I needed you to have someone I could trust to watch after you. I might not be able to ensure your safety in such a place, with so many random variables, but I could at least give you the best person available to watch over you after you chose to put yourself in such a position."

It had taken a while for Mac to realize he could only do his job well, if he indeed had someone watching his back. At first he looked at Jack like a necessary tool, almost like an extension of his bomb suit or his EOD robot, but before Jack was ready to head back stateside, Mac couldn't deny he'd grown attached and scarily dependent in a way he never expected or even truly understood. He frowned at his father, something the man said clicking.

"You knew about Pena?" Mac wasn't sure why he was even surprised by that small detail at this point. His father could tell him he'd hired Nikki to be his girlfriend and Mac wouldn't have batted an eye. It seemed his father had spies everywhere, even in hospital operating suites.

"Of course I knew about Alfred. He kept me updated on your progress. He was amazed at what a quick study you were, how you took to dismantling bombs as if you were born to do it. His death was one of the reasons I decided to get more hands on about the trajectory of your career. I won't even pretend that I wasn't completely thrown when Harry called me with the news you had enlisted."

Mac could understand his father's dismay. Angus MacGyver had never been much of a 'joiner'. As a child, he was never one to gravitate towards groups, even when encouraged to do so by well-meaning teachers or coaches. Pack mentality had not been in his nature. In true introvert fashion, although not necessarily shy, Mac tended to lend towards one person, or a couple of people who proved true.

"I mean when you got into MIT at sixteen, I was sure that you were finally on the right path," James continued.

Bozer had been Mac's go to person for years, but upon arriving at MIT, Mac had met Frankie and Smitty. He almost felt like a member of an alien race, finally returned to its homeland. He'd been, for the first time, accepted and 'normal'. He saw no need to expand his horizons or increase his friend group beyond the small scope of people with which he held common interest. This tendency for lone wolf status was probably one of the chief reasons that caused his grandfather, Harry, and pretty much everyone else that knew him well, such concern when Mac at the age of 18 announced he was enlisting in the military.

"It completely threw me for a loop when you willingly walked away from a place that so obviously suited you and your talents." James voice held the same incredulity that many of Mac's peers had, along with a bit of anger.

Mac had always been an individual. Strong-willed and admittedly incredibly self-possessed, he was not one to demure to others line of thinking. Conform and capitulation were not typically in his vocabulary. He was an outside the box kind of guy. Self-reliant. Stubborn. Harry, a former soldier himself, had -not so subtly-pointed out that the Army was not a place for individual achievement or avant garde constructs. On the contrary, it strove to bend men's will to a mutual goal, to mold all the working parts into one finely tuned machine. He'd gone so far as to describe it as a 'Hive Mind' institution, obviously hoping to dissuade his one and only grandson from making a grandiose error.

"I wanted to save lives." Mac said, quietly. "As much as I loved MIT, all my work there, my research, it seemed so pointless when compared to what was happening to our soldiers." Mac looked at his father. Jack once told him that his family never understood what he did, but he only hoped they'd someday understand why he did it. Mac understood what his partner had been saying in a new way as his father's clueless face showed no hint at revelation.

"Your grandfather felt responsible for putting ideas in your head, with all his stories." James waved a hand in the air, totally missing the point Mac was trying to make. "I couldn't say I didn't hold him partially to blame. The idea of you risking everything for some grandiose notion."

Harry had pointed out that as the one person in their family who had served, he understood better than most what Mac was signing on for. He begged his grandson to reconsider, or at least graduate college first. Harry worried, for good reason it turned out, that Mac would clash with the very infrastructure that comprised the military agenda, and that he had no idea the compromises he'd be called upon to make-his aversion to guns and violence at the top of that list.

There were indeed moments when Mac believed he'd made a huge mistake. As if the little voice inside his head- the one which had never steered him wrong before and that seemed totally on board with his plan to completely revamp the military with his insight and genius- had somehow pulled some cruel joke and purposively misled Mac. Turned out that drill sergeants did not like to be challenged like the professors and teachers Mac had known. They saw most helpful suggestions and even demonstration of knowledge as a direct attack on their authority and manhood. There was zero interest in new ways to increase productivity and if one offered such it was paramount to a mangy, lowly, Omega wolf pup challenging the Alpha leader. Punishment was swift and severe, meant to teach quickly the order of things. For the first time in Mac's life, he proved to be an extremely slow learner.

"I couldn't wrap my mind around what you were willing to sacrifice with such a fool-hearty, impulsive decision." James was looking at Mac, but Mac had a feeling that this conversation was merely remnants of a much older one he'd had with someone else, perhaps Harry or maybe his best buddy, Jonah. Mac felt as if he were being talked at instead of talked to.

"I heard all about the sacrifice I was making. Trust me." The word had come up repeatedly, again and again. Mac heard it preached from everyone around him, not just Harry. He understood the definition. It meant to give up something one considered valuable in the service of others. Mac was willing. Or so he thought.

Freedom cost, Harry warned repeatedly. Sometimes it was an arm, a leg, maybe both. It could be an eye or hearing, the ability to walk and run or make love to the woman you loved. It took peace of mind, leaving anxiety and fear in its wake. The latter was something Mac would only understand to be as debilitating as a physical loss after returning from Afghanistan, but a risk he was willing to take albeit naively nonetheless. Harry preached that freedom cost lives. Not only yours but those you'd come to love. Sometimes, Mac's grandfather had predicted correctly that seeing your brother's sacrifice was far worse than making one yourself.

"But you rushed headlong into it anyway." James gaze was intense now, fully focused on his son as if this were the one thing that didn't compute, the impossible equation. Mac found himself looking towards the doors that separated him from the belly of the hospital, where Jack was being worked on, almost as if he expected another rescue because he didn't want to tell the truth, and risk seeing disappointment in his father's eyes.

"I thought it was the right thing to do so I did it, consequences and collateral damage be damned." Mac held his father's gaze, unwavering, effectively turning the tables. Like father, like son. "You should understand that better than anyone."

James looked a bit like he did after Jack punched him the first time back in Peru and Mac shamelessly admitted it felt good. That was until his father's face darkened, his eyes reflecting not anger at having his own impulsive decisions challenged, but remorse and worse yet, pity. "And how did that work out for you, son?"

Mac licked his lips, thinking about all that Afghanistan had taken from him, but also what it had given. Having his stalwart beliefs challenged at every turn, his moral compass spun, was not something Mac had truly considered. Funny enough, brilliant eighteen year olds are blinded by the false belief that at eighteen one knows everything. But it was the willingness to be completely okay with death-not just yours but your teammates- that tormented Mac the most. Mac could not make peace with the one thing a warrior must understand and accept-death is undeniable and to some degree must be welcomed. Especially in light of feeling like a part of something for the very first time, to have been given, not just Jack as a brother, but an entire pack of them in the form of Coop, Pete, Boxer and the others in Jack's unit. But to be asked to relinquish them, to offer them up for the cause…Mac didn't do that well.

It took Pena's death to open his eyes to the truth of what he'd gotten himself into, but it was being partnered with Jack that drove the point home without mercy. For every life saved, one or twenty could just as easily be given. An unborn daughter could lose her father in an IED explosion. A guy could lose his best friend in a botched convenience store robbery.

"Better than it did for you." Mac finally answered, meeting his father's unwavering gaze. "Instead of losing a son, I got a brother out of the deal."

James rebuttal, if he'd managed one, was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He reached for it, distractedly, pulling it from the pocket of his leather jacket. And Mac knew….

His heart faltered, stuttered like a failing generator might, his breath catching in his lungs. Suddenly he felt as desperately unable to breathe as Jack had in the ambulance and he wondered if his father might need to rig something to stab him in the chest, allowing life giving measures. All of this came about instantaneously as Mac immediately recognized his father's grim countenance even if he hadn't seen it in almost twenty years. It was the one that said things had spun out of James MacGyver's tight-fisted control.

It was a face that Mac had kept locked away deep down in his psyche, one that had dawned terribly on his father the day they'd walked together into Mac's mother's hospital room to find it empty. James MacGyver had let go of his small son's hand and a five year old Mac had gazed up questioningly. Just as he did now.

"Dad?" He hated how even he could hear the fear and vulnerability in that one word-the pleading- how it seemed to leap from somewhere deep inside him without his command or volition.

"It's Jack," his father answered. "It seems a fragment of rib broken off by the bullet nicked a blood vessel. They're having a hard time stopping the bleeding."

"What does that mean?" Mac asked the same question he'd managed all those years ago when his father had knelt in front of him, gripping his slight shoulders too tightly as he'd choked out that his mother was gone and wouldn't be coming back. The explanation was both ambivalent and final. Mac could only pray as his dad's eyes met his, the man's reply would not once more destroy the fragile world Mac had come to know as his own.

To be continued…