Now Turn North
By: Ridley C. James
A/N: I want to say a hundred thanks to those who left encouraging and kind reviews for this story. I have been remiss in getting back to you individually. Sometimes finding time to write is a challenge, but I apologize for not keeping up. Thanks to Mary for her prodding and wonderful editing skills! I hope this long chapter might cheer up some of those saddened by the news of George Eades leaving MacGyver. I try to keep in mind that I didn't truly fall in love with our boys because of the show...but rather because of the rich and amazing relationship we writers have given them. The works of those here on this site and others have brought Mac and Jack to life for me, not the writers of the show, and that doesn't have to change, my friends. We can carry on. Even when the show takes a direction none of us wanted. Jack Dalton is still with us. At our very fingertips. Waiting for our lead. At the mercy and in the care of our wildest imaginations. There is still hurt comfort to be had, memories to be made, pre-series exploits to be explored and taken apart. There are AU's to be forged like untraversed territory. Don't be dismayed or discouraged. Stories hold magic. We have the power to use that magic for good. I am willing to take up that gauntlet...how about you?
RcJ
"Mac!"
"Angus!"
Jack's voice reached through the darkness, and stopped Mac's spiral into unconsciousness as sure as if the man had physically caught him in mid-air, as if Mac were some man-sized baseball which had been launched toward home base from the outfield and Jack had instinctively known where to put his glove for the miraculous catch. Jack might have saved Mac from temporary oblivion, but metaphors aside, he'd not prevented him from being catapulted by the explosion. Nor had Mac's protector spared him the eventual brutal landing.
Mac could now feel cool grass beneath his hands and dirt in his mouth. Not sand. Through the pounding in his skull, he grasped at the idea he'd been in the desert only seconds before. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaned as a tumble of memories sparked off behind his lids, joining the impressive fireworks. Fireworks. Somehow Mac recalled it was the Fourth of July, plucked the useful information from his muddled thoughts.
"Easy, cowboy." Jack's hand on his shoulder grounded Mac. Texas, he told himself. They were in Texas. A cold nose nudged Mac's face as further proof, a warm tongue sliding across his cheek, accompanied by definite dog snuffling.
"Get back, Lilly girl." Jack.
"Keep that dog off of him, Dalton." Dad.
"Stop telling me what to do and make-sure nothing else on that damn grill is going to blow." Jack was angry...or scared.
The simultaneous commands, along with the ringing in Mac's ears mixed poorly with the excruciating pain which lanced through his head, the ache that throbbed relentlessly at his right cheek. It felt like small bombs going off in his skull, and although he logically understood it wasn't possible he wondered if they were taking on enemy fire. Well-honed instincts told him to move. To get his ass up.
Mac tried. He pushed against the ground only to have a white bolt of agony shoot through his right wrist. He gasped, falling flat on his face once more. He heard grunting, a squeal as something nudged at his feet.
"Easy now." Jack's voice worked its magic again, keeping the darkness encroaching at the edges of his mind like black ink from completely covering him. His grip on Mac's shoulder tightened. "Take it easy. Let me see," Jack said, his voice hardening as he added. "Dodger, move."
"Is he hurt? Is he burnt?" Hearing his father's voice was somehow surreal. Mac knew damn well James MacGyver was not in Afghanistan.
"His shirt's a little singed." Jack's tone was surprisingly calm now, assured and steady as the hands that skimmed the planes and contours of Mac's body. "Come back and help me roll him over."
Unfamiliar hands cupped Mac's head and he wanted to pull away, but Jack was there, talking to him, telling him it was okay, to breath.
"Jack?" Mac managed once he was gently guided to his back. He could feel the sun on his face. It's heat as palpable as a stifling blanket.
"I'm here, kiddo. You're okay."
"Harmon?" He gasped, images of Kabul once more coming quickly and unwelcomed with the smell of smoke and fuel thick in the air. "How's Harmon?"
"Who the hell is Harmon?" James demanded.
Jack seemingly ignored his question and Mac's father's too. It made sense that Jack didn't hear James MacGyver because he couldn't possibly be present. Not in Kabul. Not anywhere in his son's close proximity for that matter. That was the rule. If Mac was there, James was not. Father and son were not in sync. He was obviously only in Mac's head along with the marching band that was loudly parading about between his cortex and frontal lobe. A parade also made sense seeing as how it was the Fourth of July, but Jack's lack of response to Mac was worrisome. Little did Mac realize in his confused state that his father was indeed present and although not vocal, his best friend had communicated with the man just the same, albeit in the form of a quick shake of his head and a Dalton scowl that had Oversight staying quiet for the moment.
But the silence scared Mac. So much so that he lifted a hand to reach for his overwatch, to make sure he was also real, not some hallucination brought on by whatever injury Mac was sure he had sustained to his head, which was possibly killing him.
Gratefully Jack caught his hand, his callused fingers closing tightly over Mac's. "I gotcha, brother. I got you."
"Wyatt!" Someone called frantically from a distance. Mac had the momentary thought that Boxer was so frightened that he sounded like a girl. "Wyatt, is he alright?" The worried, high-pitched inquiry sounded again and Mac made a note to make fun of their teammate later, that was if he survived until later.
"How about you open your eyes for me, bud," Jack was closer now. Mac could feel the huff of air on his face, even as Jack's other hand pressed against his cheek, the one that didn't feel like it was broken. "Come on now, before Nana Beth gets over here and thinks you've done gone to paradise? It will break her heart to think either of us is getting a glimpse of The Pearly Gates before her. She'll never forgive me or JP for turning you loose on the dragon."
"Nana Beth?" Mac frowned, fighting his way through the confusion and pain to open his eyes. He hadn't even realized he still had them clamped shut against the pain in his skull. "But Harmon…"
"No Harmon. Not today, Angus." Jack's hand ran through Mac's hair. Mac wasn't sure if his partner was offering comfort or searching for a tell-tale lump as deft fingers skimmed his scalp, but at the moment he didn't really care. He swallowed hard, blinked up at the older man who was on his knees right beside him. The searing bright light brought tears to his eyes. Jack was real, and that meant Mac was okay, whether they were in Afghanistan or Austin, Texas.
"We're home?" He croaked.
"We're home." Jack nodded, assuredly holding his gaze.
"God, is he having some sort of flashback?"
Mac swiveled his head at the distraught question, couldn't quite hide the gasp it elicited. "Dad," he breathed.
It seemed James MacGyver was real as well and kneeled at his other side. The aloof man being in Texas was almost as strange as him showing up in Kabul. Mac didn't miss the fact that for the first time in his life he'd almost preferred the image of barracks in the distance shimmering through the waves of heat wafting from the desert floor. The mirage was less troublesome than the laser-like stare James MacGyver leveled on him now. A war with strangers he could handle, the battle zone with his father had somehow proven more dangerous and beleaguering, the lines of friend or foe so easily blurred. Mac preferred clear cut boundaries. Black and white. His relationship with his father was undefinable and wildly technicolored.
"Are you hurt, son?" James reached for him.
Without thought, Mac rolled toward Jack, seeking shelter and possibly escape. The knee-jerk reaction was both telling and incredibly unwise as new pain erupted in Mac's side and he whimpered.
"Easy, bud." Jack's hand once more latched onto his shoulder, holding him in place. The fingers that carded through his hair this time were definitely for solace and not examination, though Mac winced when they hit a particularly tender spot. If Mac hadn't clamped his eyes shut again, he would have witnessed the warning glare Jack gave James, and the indignant, territorial scowl that James returned in kind.
"Wyatt? Should I call an ambulance?" Beth's appearance into the fray was heralded by the hint of Lavender and Vanilla, her trademark scent, one that usually brought comfort but that now in Mac's state caused his stomach to roll. "That damn grill," he heard her huff as one of her soft hand's closed around his. "Angus, can you hear me?"
"I'm okay." Mac once more forced his eyes open, the fear in Beth's voice, giving him the clarity to try and sit up. Jack quickly reached out to help him, bolstering Mac with his shoulder so that he didn't tip over.
"You're bleeding," Beth gasped when Mac was mostly upright thanks to Jack's support. She was holding a fire extinguisher which she quickly shoved at James before bringing her hand to Mac's forehead. Mac watched his father sigh, but get up to go and put out the smoldering remains of the dragon. When Beth's fingers came away smeared in red, her fiery eyes glanced to James retreating form, and then to Jack. "The boy's bleeding, Wyatt."
"I can see that, Nana," Jack harrumphed at the accusation and Mac might have managed a smile at his best friend's exasperation if being upright hadn't required him to focus solely on not throwing up. Beth's gaze returned to Mac as she clutched his hand tighter. "I told your grandfather to go to the damn Wal-Mart and buy a new grill instead of playing mad scientist with that eye sore. He's a horseman, not an engineer. He's also as stubborn as a mule."
Mac wasn't sure if he had ever heard her swear, and now Beth had cursed twice. He reconsidered his state, wondering if he was worse off than he thought. He didn't have much time to consider it as new wash of pain had him jerking with a start as Jack pressed something soft to the cut on his forehead.
"Easy, bud. Let's get some pressure on that before Nana has a heart attack in her fragile state." Jack's tone was teasing, but Mac picked up on the edge. Beth wasn't the only one he'd scared.
"That material is far from sanitary," Beth sighed and Mac realized that Lilly was no longer wearing her red, white and blue, star-spangled bandana she'd been sporting earlier. Mac guessed it was now being used as a bandage and he supposed he should be grateful that Dodger still had his Cowboy's shirt on as the pig liked to roll around in the horse field.
"Now, Nana…" Jack started.
"Don't you now Nana me!" She snapped, uncharacteristically. "What were you thinking letting him work on that thing, Wyatt?"
"Oh, I don't know, Nana, maybe I was thinking he's a grown man, whom I've watched disarm hundreds of bombs in Afghanistan and uncover countless IEDs that could take out a small city block." Jack snapped right back, although not unusual for him, an unsettling reaction when it came to speaking to his grandmother. He pressed hard enough on the make-shift bandage to cause Mac's eyes to burn. Jack's other arm flailed about and Mac realized just how rattled his partner was when the tone he'd taken was certain to earn him considerable ire from the Dalton matriarch. "Besides it was James who blew the damn thing up." Jack growled, jutting a finger at Mac's father. "How about you take a bite out of him."
"I did no such thing," James sputtered, returning from his task. He dropped the fire extinguisher, his indignation withering quickly when Beth Dalton's formidable gaze swept to him. He took a knee near Mac once more. "I mean…I had no idea that there was a leak in the propane, which must have been…"
"The fault is no concern at the moment." Beth seemed to gather herself and Mac resisted defending Jack and implicating his father, although for the first time he had the clarity to be relieved the older man was okay. His father's hands were dirty, and there was a small scratch on his chin, but that seemed the extent of the damage. Mac on the other hand was convinced he'd broken his face. The world was spinning just a little too quickly. He leaned heavily against Jack, thankful for his close proximity. "Angus is the only thing that matters," Beth assured. Her gaze went to Jack once more. "Now should we call an ambulance? He could have internal injuries or…"
"No ambulance." Mac didn't even consider giving a shake of his head, but he did attempt to sit up straighter and look as with it as he could manage. "I'm fine."
"You're obviously not fine." James had already pulled his cellphone from his pocket and Mac felt a wash of panic and irritation that once again his father was ignoring what his son wanted in lieu of what he believed was best. It dug at all the insecurities Mac had about how James MacGyver had controlled so much of his life without Mac knowing.
"If the kid needs a hospital run then I'll take him," Jack objected and Mac felt a rush of relief.
"Because you're the expert in the proper care of Angus MacGyver?" James spat, glowering at Jack with a rare showing of his temper. Mac didn't want them arguing, but was grateful his father was momentarily distracted from dialing 9-1-1. He had been injured enough times to know when he was in need of immediate attention and despite feeling as if he'd taken another spin in the port-o-potty he and Jack once rode out a hurricane in, he knew he wasn't in dire straits.
"I've had a hell of a lot more practice at it than you, MacGyver! Nearly ten years in fact," Jack returned and Mac hissed again as his partner's frustration was channeled through the 'pressure' he was applying to the cut over Mac's eye.
"That's enough!" Beth's voice was sharp and just as commanding as Jack's could be when he was in full overwatch mode. "I will not have you two behaving like a couple of stud horses warring for lead stallion of the herd. Not when your boy is hurt."
"My boy," James clarified icily. Nana's head swiveled to give him the full on 'don't you dare test me' stare. One Mac had seen cower bigger and scarier men than Oversight. Mac watched in amazement as his dad wisely shrunk back, raising a hand of apology as he muttered, 'sorry' under his breath. Beth continued to shoot daggers until James got a clue that they were in the South and added 'mam' to the end. "Sorry, mam," he clarified.
Mac thought it ironic that in wild or feral herds it was typically a lead 'mare' who was in charge. Obviously Beth, liked the wild horses she loved, also was not one to be cowed and she looked quite close to demonstrating her dominance to the two males who'd wisely closed their mouths. She looked so uncharacteristically flustered, angry even, that Mac mustered a half smile.
"A large group of horses is usually called a team or a harass, Nana. Not a herd as most people would believe."
Her gaze instantly swung to him, narrowing at his casual correction, and he considered the wisdom in pushing her tolerance for disrespect even in his compromised state. But as quickly as the irritation flared, she softened, seeming to smartly glean his intention or taking pity at his sheepish look. She forced a smile, going so far as to cluck her tongue in disappointment as she cut a glance to Jack.
"Now, Wyatt, if our boy was suffering from a brain bleed do you suppose he would still be able to speak so fresh?"
"I can't say for certain, Nana, because I've never seen him sustain an injury that kept him from lecturing me in that know it all way he can have. Even half dead the kid's capable of being a smart ass." Jack shifted his grip slightly on the bandana he'd pressed to Mac's forehead and Mac tried not to grimace.
"Just like a Dalton," Beth patted the patient's leg, her gaze still full of worry. "Well then, Angus, I suppose we should let Wyatt take you to the ER just to be on the safe side."
"But…" Mac started, only to have Beth give a sharp shake of her head, all kidding aside. He once again tried not to lean so heavily on Jack but his head was pounding, throwing his equilibrium.
"Do you know what they call a large group of Unicorns, Angus?" Beth asked.
The question caught Mac off guard, disrupting his intention to insist once more he was fine. He resisted the urge to point out he would call it a huge impossibility because there were no such thing as a unicorns knowing Beth had once pointed out their mention in scripture. She didn't give him a chance to gather his thoughts, instead reaching out to gently brush his throbbing cheek with her fingers.
"It's called a blessing, child. A blessing. And just as I would not dare turn a blind eye to such a sight if I encountered one, I will not discount what a gift I have in you- or how quickly it could disappear. No. I won't have it. I will absolutely not breathe easy until you've been cleared by a proper doctor. You could be what they call a walkie-talkie. Seemingly fine one minute, but standing in the presence of our Lord the very next."
Mac sighed, realizing as he stared into Beth's fearful, dark eyes that the woman watched entirely too many medical dramas but also understanding that he was not going to get out of going to the hospital. She seemingly read his concession, turning quickly to James before Mac could change his mind and once more try to argue.
"Jimmy, put away that phone this instant and run into the house to fetch the first aid kit. It's in the bathroom upstairs. It has some clean bandages and an icepack for Angus's face." She didn't give the elder MacGyver a chance to challenge her order either, or to correct her for the fact she'd amusingly called him Jimmy. Instead her gaze volleyed to Jack. "Wyatt, go fetch JP's truck. Pull it right up here."
"Yes, mam," Jack replied instantly.
"I can walk…" Mac started only to have his partner give him a cross look.
"You can also go in an ambulance if you push your luck, brother." Jack nodded to James, who still held his phone, although off to his side where Nana Beth couldn't see.
"You wouldn't…" Mac found the strength to shift away from Jack, turning so he could meet his best friend's gaze.
"Try me, Et tu Brute." Jack winked to take some of the sting from his words. He wrapped his long fingers around Mac's wrist, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding the younger man's hand up to the bandana, to replace his own. "Hold this, bud. I'll be right back."
Jack's gaze held a hint of question, one which Mac realized meant his best friend wasn't going anywhere despite his words and his grandmother's charge until Mac released him with some sign he was okay, both with sitting on his own and with Jack leaving. The fact James MacGyver had already disappeared towards the house was not lost on Mac. He swallowed thickly, nodding. He tracked Jack getting to his feet, quelling the panic that tried to build as irrational thoughts of being alone battered his defenses.
"Watch him, girl." Jack patted Lilly on the head, the dog lying down close to Mac with a heavy sigh, her big block head a comforting presence on his lap. Dodger joined her and Mac rolled his eyes that he now was being monitored by three sets of anxious eyes. He caught the amused smirk on his partner's face as Jack seemed to glean his relief. Turning to go, Mac watched him break into a jog as he crossed the yard.
"How are you doing?" Beth asked, her question bringing Mac's focus to her once more. She'd taken a seat next to him, her hand still holding his injured one as she watched him closely. Dodger had curled next to her, grunting softly as he actually appeared to be napping. Apparently he was no longer worried about Mac succumbing to his injuries.
"I'm fine, Nana, really." He tried for another smile, wishing she would take a hint from Dodger and stand at ease. The skin over Mac's cheek pulled and another wave of nausea roiled through him. He took some slow deep breaths, hoping he didn't hurl. "I've had worse than this, trust me."
"I'm sure you have although I could have done without that reminder." She frowned, continuing to eye him warily as if she could gauge his honesty by the dilation of his pupils. "I am an old , fragile woman who prefers not to dwell on the foolishness of the young ones she loves more than life itself."
"You're not old, Nana." Or fragile. Mac tried to sit up straighter, bringing an arm over his ribs when they protested the move. The trip he'd taken thanks to the exploding tank had awoken the aches and pains of the earlier spill he'd had from Treaty. It was not lost on him that his body was starting to mirror just how beat up and bruised he felt on the inside.
"I appreciate that considering I know how you millennials think fifty is Methusala ancient, but I was speaking more to what's going on the inside." It was as if Nana had heard his thoughts and he momentarily feared in his confused state he may have spoken them aloud. Her hand drifted to his chest, pressing against his sternum before moving to brush over his hair. "Not any injury up here. After all, you do seem to have somehow miraculously inherited the Dalton hard head."
"I'm not sure what you mean?" Mac squirmed, this time more from the intensity of her penetrating stare than the pain he was experiencing. A certain look overtook her heavily-lined face, one usually reserved for Jack, or JP when they had done or said something she deemed extremely foolish. It was filled with exasperation, but also unabashed love and Mac wasn't sure whether to feel lucky to be included in such regard or afraid of what came next which was typically uncensored, and sometimes hard, truth.
"I'm speaking to that deep wound your daddy no doubt ripped open with him reappearing like he did." She tilted her head, her frown deepening. "You've been worked up about it, like Switzer when he gets a hot spot on his behind, licking it and worrying with it until it's all inflamed and infected."
Mac swallowed, Beth's comparison not helping with his growing nausea or the way his head had started to spin. He blinked and she tried to offer some comfort by squeezing tighter to his hand. He was a little in awe and a bit afraid by the way she directly cut to the problem. Mac pondered if he was really doing such a poor job of hiding his feelings or if it had more to do with her keen insight as a grandmother, even if Mac wasn't technically her grandson. "It makes me wish there was some homemade ointment," she continued, thoughtfully, "I could smear over it and make it go away, or at least stop hurting you, but with human hot spots there is no such quick fix."
"It's not so bad now," Mac lied. He'd had months to come to terms with finding out his father was Oversight, to digest the degree of the man's machinations. Finding out James had consistently been on the fringes of Mac's life, watching from a distance that obviously brought him some sort of consolation and satisfaction had not eased the hurt Mac felt, but somehow increased it ten-fold. Maybe because while the idea of guiding and orchestrating his son's life from behind the curtain of lies brought James, the man who'd walked away from his only child, some sort of absolution in the fatherhood department, possibly even given him parental pleasure, it did nothing for Mac, the one who'd been left behind. He glanced at Beth, renewing his effort to school his features. "He's not such a bad guy. He says he wants another chance."
She considered him for a long moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Everybody wants something, Angus, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it's entirely human. But when those wants disregard the needs of others then there's bound to be trouble." Beth squeezed his hand once more and let him go. "I'm sure James wants to salvage some sort of relationship with his son. It's obvious he wants to make a mends to ease a guilt anyone would feel in his position. Maybe he even truly wants to give you what you've been deprived of for so long. But as powerful as his wants are, they are at their core still just that- what he wants. I'm more concerned about what you want, sweet boy. I wish he was as well."
A voice inside of Mac welled up with a frantic 'me, too', 'me, too'. He ignored it, licking his lips, tasting copper from the cut he could now feel lining his bottom one. Mac focused on the throbbing there, instead of the ache in his chest. "I'm not sure that's ever going to happen."
"Then I think it's time you turn north," Beth said, succinctly.
Mac briefly considered if his head injury was worse than he'd originally believed or that maybe he was still having a hard time hearing after the loud blast. He blinked, furrowing his brow, which only resulted in him painfully pulling at the cut on his forehead. Mac eased the makeshift bandage away, hoping he'd not restarted the bleeding.
"It's something my daddy used to say," Beth explained, apparently reading his confusion. She guided his hand back to the cut and gave him a look that said he needed to leave the bandana in place. "He was a kind, gentle man, but one of few words unless he was behind the pulpit. He usually let the scriptures do the talking for him in his work and in personal affairs, especially when it came to his headstrong, willful daughter who had a bit of sass back in the day."
"Back in the day?" Mac lifted a brow and was rewarded by a feigned innocent look he'd seen Jack give when he was being called to the carpet for some infraction or another.
"As I was saying," Beth continued on undaunted and actually looking quite pleased, "that particular advice is from Deuteronomy. It was given to God's chosen people as they continued to wonder around the desert after forty years of worrying and fretting. Basically, God's way of saying it's time to make a decision and move forward." Her gaze briefly darted to where Jack had disappeared before focusing once more on Mac. "My daddy often used it when he thought I was a bit stuck in a situation, whether it was stewing over being slighted a party invitation as a young girl lamenting our poor social standing or when I was pondering if I should accept the proposal for my hand in marriage by one stubborn Texas boy with wild-eyed dreams of taking the horse racing world by storm or choose the young man I'd known my whole life who wanted to whisk me off to Haiti to fulfill our hopes of becoming missionaries."
"JP had stiff competition?" Mac asked, trying to imagine Jack's grandparents as teenagers grappling with life-altering decisions. It had taken him months of weighing every outcome before asking Nikki out on a date and he'd only done it then because Jack threatened to slip her a note asking her to check yes or no if she 'liked' little Angus. Despite the headache that continued to mimic a hometown parade with a huge high school band percussion section, Mac felt his mouth twitch at the memory of his partner's meddling.
"As unbelievable as it may be now, young man, I had quite the line of suitors." Beth managed to look slighted, smoothing a hand over her silver braid. "More than fifty years later Henry Wilder still sends me a Christmas card. I post the old fool's penned letters on the refrigerator just to remind JP of his good fortune."
Mac grinned. "You're still a prize, Nana."
"While that's true, I see what you are doing. Ten years under Wyatt's influence has given you the Dalton charm of a snake-oil salesman. It's potent, for sure, hence why I ended up living here in Texas tending to stubborn cowboys, hounds and filthy swine instead of that fancy house on Martha's Vineyard with a wait staff." Dodger grunted as if he had somehow intuited he was being slandered. Beth scratched his ears affectionately even as her eyes stayed locked on Mac. "But I won't be swayed this time. We were talking about you, and your chance to get out of the sweltering desert."
Mac thought about his flashback to Afghanistan. He rubbed his aching head with a sigh, carefully pulling the bandana away. Nana didn't attempt to redirect him so he took that to mean the bleeding had slowed. The pain had subsided slightly as well but even mere thoughts of his father increased the tempo of the pounding in his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment when Beth blurred out of focus. "The problem with deserts, Nana, is all the mirages. As sound as I'm sure your father's doctrine was, I'm not sure how it applies to me. It's hard to orient myself when I don't know what's real, and what's illusion."
"Sometimes the very act of not making a decision has the power to make us miserable, Angus. At this point, even choosing poorly, sweet boy, could be liberating."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He had always thought Jack got his knack for delivering a pep speech that sometimes verged on confusing to say the least from JP-the inspiring TEAM spells MEAT one for their softball game for instance- but he was now convinced his best friend had inherited his grandmother's tact.
"It's supposed to nudge you out of that beautiful head of yours before you get hurt." Beth raised her hand and gently pressed it to Mac's face. "Again."
Mac wanted to assure her that this latest run in with bad luck had nothing to do with his focus, or lack there of, but couldn't bring himself to speak when he realized he wasn't sure if that were true. He found himself wrapped up in his thoughts more and more often these days, wondering his own proverbial wasteland perhaps. Instead of bringing clarity to the situation, his going to Puerto Rico and the subsequent incident in Peru had only added new dimensions, like unraveling String Theory. Lying to Beth would be hard, but deceiving himself was even worse. He looked at her.
"Do they really call a group of unicorns a blessing?"
"They most certainly do." She let the re-direct slide, mostly he wagered because his father chose that moment to come rushing out the back door. They both heard the tell-tale screech of the screen. Lilly lifted her head from Mac's lap. Beth patted his arm. "And a group of hummingbirds is a charm."
Mac kept his focus on her, even as he was aware of James's hurried approach. He wasn't ready for real life to interrupt. Even if he'd started to feel dizzy and a little breathless, he wished for their game to continue. "Do you happen to know what they call a group of alligators?" When Beth merely shook her head, indulging him, he forced a smile, hoping to make up for the worry he'd caused. "A congregation."
"Well now," Beth chuckled as if he'd given her a sudden delight, proving her tolerant, forgiving nature and experience as a doting grandparent. "That most certainly explains a few things about some of the leather-skinned, cold hearted old busy bodies I have encountered on the pews some Sundays."
Mac laughed, his ribs and sternum protesting the movement. He couldn't quite suppress a groan of pain.
"Angus?" His father was hovering over him now, reality once more front and center. James MacGyver was present and accounted for, no longer lost or absent. Mac looked up at the genuine tone of worry, though the frown present on Oversight's face was not so much one of concern as consternation. "I knew I should have just called the ambulance."
Pain blossomed once more in Mac's chest and it had nothing to do with his most recent painful battle with gravity. He was saved from further lecturing by the appearance of JP's big Ford, the black F150's motor growling as it bounced over the backyard to come to the rescue. Mac watched Jack maneuver around his grandmother's bird bath and garden to come to a stop only a few feet away. Lilly barked, her tail wagging furiously as she expected a ride was coming.
"That taxi's not for you, girl," Beth admonished, making her way to her feet as Jack opened the door and hopped out. James had reached out to help her, but she shook her head, ignoring his offered hand. "Power yoga has done wonders for my knees," she nodded to the kit in his hand. "How about you do something useful, Jimmy, like getting the icepack."
Mac could practically feel Oversight's disdain for being ordered about but he gave his father credit for doing as Beth asked without rebuttal.
"Your chariot awaits, cowboy." Jack made his way around the front of the truck, reaching down to help Mac up, grinning his Jack grin. The one that could appear at the most inappropriate times but always made Mac feel safe. "It's not Treaty, but this horsepower is guaranteed to be a smoother and cooler ride. No unexpected stops at the lake."
"You're hilarious," Mac sighed, as he accepted Jack's assist with his uninjured hand. His bruised wrist was throbbing and he had no doubt he'd be forced into a trip to radiology seeing as how they were already going to be at the ER. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose as the change in attitude brought on another round of dizziness.
"I'm coming with you," James spoke up, startling Mac slightly with his close proximity. He went so far as to lightly take Mac's elbow, guiding him along. Mac blinked against the fleeting thought that it was actually the first time his father had initiated physical contact since they'd been reunited. What was more surprising is that Mac wanted to tug his arm away from his father, the touch taunting in it's unfamiliarity.
"Suit yourself," Jack sighed, tightening his grip on Mac when he swayed, but relenting his hold when James rounded them towards the passenger side of the truck. "But I'm driving, Oversight, sir."
"Fine," James conceded as if that prospect had actually ever been on the table. "I'm sure there will be paperwork for me to fill out."
Mac bit back on the desire to relate that he was over eighteen far beyond the need of parental consent for medical treatment or anything else for that matter, and if there was paperwork then that was usually done by his next of kin-Jack-who would already be there, who had always been there when Mac needed him. He remained silent, however, tolerating the fact his father nudged him towards the truck.
He met Beth's eyes and she arched both brows, gesturing towards the sky as she mouthed 'Now turn north'. A reminder of their conversation.
Jack caught his grandmother's not so subtle message. She smiled sweetly at his confused frown and gave him a thumbs up. "Nana?"
"Call me as soon as you get there, Wyatt. We'll hold dinner." Beth waved him off. "In fact, I may send Bozer and Billy to The Walmart for a new grill seeing as how the dragon has breathed its last fiery breath."
"Thanks to Jimmy," Jack muttered quietly but Mac heard him. When he met his best friend's gaze across the truck as James opened the door for him to climb in, Jack smirked. "Fireworks aren't going to be the only thing going off tonight after JP finds out the old gal's gone, blown to smithereens."
Mac's head hurt anew with thoughts of the cookout, the guests that would be gathered at the ranch and his father's presence among them. As he gingerly slid across the bench seat, Mac wondered if the grill wasn't the only family ancient history that was about to be put to rest. As his shoulder brushed Jack's, the older man gave him a reassuring nod as if he could somehow read Mac's thoughts.
"Hang in there, bud. We'll get this all sorted out."
Mac didn't return the gesture, but held his best friend's gaze for a moment longer than normal, hoping the fact he'd scooted just a little closer to Jack and away from his father conveyed his complete faith in the fact that no matter what happened, at the hospital or with James, Jack indeed had his back. If Mac was going North, Jack would be right beside him for the trip.
RcJ
Jack made his way down the hospital corridor, looking at the numbers of the observation rooms, not surprised that there seemed to be a full house. Fourth of July tended to bring out the pyro side of the average testosterone driven male. As with most things, Texas liked to go bigger. Bigger booms often led to giant mishaps. He hated like hell that Mac had gotten caught up in one, not at all of his own folly. He silently berated himself for not paying closer attention to what James was doing, knowing Mac wasn't his usual observant self.
Honest accident or not, James had made no apologies on the ride to the hospital, instead choosing to critique Jack's maneuvering of the downtown scape, never minding the fact that Austin was Jack's town, that he'd spent time there. Years of his life learning the landscape, the shortcuts and paths to avoid earned him no credit with the elder MacGyver. James discounted the experience, opting to consult his navigator for the most logistically sound routes.
He wanted to believe Oversight acted like an ass because he was worried about his son. Mac had grown paler by the minute on their trip into the city. It had been obvious, seriously injured or not, that the kid was hurting more than he wanted to let on. But James's theatrics, born of fatherly anxiety or not, had not made time pass any more quickly. His commentary on Jack's driving was not unlike the way Oversight insisted on telling his agent how to manage Mac- not that Angus MacGyver was one to be maneuvered like a holiday traffic jam-but still James had voiced his not so helpful opinions right up until Mac was taken to radiology.
James's suggestions were grating, prompting Mac to feign sleep at one point. Jack had to bite back on telling the man just how he felt about his not so helpful input knowing that if he was completely honest with his boss, he'd only make the next couple of days even more awkward for Mac. What Jack wanted so desperately to point out was that he'd made his way through Austin just fine. He sure as hell knew better how to deal with this hurt partner they'd brought to the ER, the one who hated hospitals and needed a diversion that didn't include a forced conversation with his estranged father. Instead, he'd let Mac's insistence that Jack fill out his necessary forms and the kid's mention to the nurse that Jack was his next of kin stick in Big Mac's craw.
It was probably petty and a bit childish. He could almost hear Matty insisting that he and James were behaving like two stubborn scorned parties trying to co-parent a child who for all intents and purposes was not a kid to be tugged between them but a fully grown man quite capable of taking care of himself. Jack wasn't even the kid's daddy. He was his best friend, his brother in everything but blood, but when it came to paternity the real kicker was that James had all the damn legitimacy. If Mac had been a child, James could have easily kicked Jack out of the hospital room without a care for what his son wanted. Biology and the law would have backed him up and even though it wasn't feasibly going to happen, just the idea of it gave Jack a moment's pause, a quick panic he had to stamp down as Jack ran a hand through his short hair, watching a nurse a few feet ahead of him vanishing into one of the rooms.
He'd never been so grateful that for once James had no ability to run roughshod over the kid, ignoring what he might want. James had been forced to listen to the doctor without inserting his insight. He and Jack had indulged in sort of a stare down after Mac had been wheeled away from the examination room, the two squaring off for a long moment, neither conceding any ground. Finally, James had muttered he was going for coffee, and for Jack to call him when Angus had returned from the ordered tests. Jack had given a brief nod, and had even followed through with his promise when the pretty nurse had come to fetch him from the waiting area.
He'd texted James before stepping outside to call his grandmother to let her know that apparently Mac was being admitted overnight for observation as he'd been given a room. At the least, she shouldn't hold dinner for them, but to save them a steak for breakfast. The call had taken more time than Jack meant with him having to speak to a worried and guilt-stricken JP as well as a dramatic Bozer, who asked if he should come to hospital for moral support. Jack was pretty sure his young teammate was more concerned about playing referee between him and James instead of Mac's condition. After all, Bozer had taken that position on himself as the tensions rose at Phoenix after Mac's leaving. Talking Bozer down, convincing him to stay and help Nana Beth with the festivities in his and Mac's absence had kept him occupied longer than he meant. Toss in the call to Matty, a grueling debriefing which included a CIA-like grilling about his and James's behavior, and Jack was certain he would find the elder MacGyver inside his son's room, probably in the very chair typically reserved for worried partner's instead of absentee parents.
Instead, to Jack's delight and partial dismay the man was nowhere in sight. The kid was alone, on the bed, looking insanely too young in the hospital gown with the lone IV. Jack had seen him hooked to much worse things, with far more grievous injuries than the nasty bruise on his cheek and the stark white bandage on his forehead, but still his gut turned. Just like it always did when Mac was hurt.
He wondered how James stood it-knowing all the times his son was in the hospital, broken and at times barely hanging on, and still he stayed away. Bastard. Nothing would make up for that, in Jack's mind. It had been bad enough when he imagined the man in Timbuctu or Katmandu, unawares, mostly clueless to his son's whereabouts let alone the kid's secret job, but to understand that James had been in the same city, in full knowledge of all that had happened to Mac…what Nikki did, how he'd almost died, well, that was something Jack would never wrap his mind around. He'd never have been content to be kept updated on conditions. He hated like hell to see his best friend hurt, but he was also drawn to the bed like some invisible power source magnetized the railing and Jack's skeleton was actually one of his partner's beloved paper clips.
After tossing his hat and keys on the lone, empty chair, Jack found himself leaning over the bed, checking to see if Mac was breathing even though the monitor said his heart rate was just fine. Jack was also compelled to touch the kid. Mac's eyes were closed but when he laid a hand on his arm, blue eyes snapped open to regard him without alarm.
"Hey," Mac said sleepily.
"Hey, yourself." Jack smiled when the kid yawned.
"Did I wake you or were you pulling your usual possum imitation to avoid conversation or contact with the medical professionals."
"I was just recovering." Mac reached gingerly for the remote that would lift the top half of the bed, Jack noticing that his right wrist now supported a fancy black brace, but no cast.
"Were the tests that grueling?" Jack took a seat on the edge of the mattress, his hip bumping against Mac's blanket covered leg. "Looks like the arm isn't broken? What about your ribs?"
"Nothing's busted." Mac looked up at him, eyes dark with emotion. "My dad was here when I got back in the room."
"You don't say." Jack rubbed his chin, the day's growth of beard reminding him that he'd spent the last month not having to accept Oversight's ever-surprising sweep of authority. He tried not to let his frustration show at the man beating him, biting his tongue for the kid's sake. Apparently James had people willing to do his bidding in every damn hospital and had known before Jack that the kid had been given his own room. He briefly wondered if the man had anything to do with it.
"I was worried he'd sent you away." The words were quiet, but heavy in the way Mac would often speak when he was disarming a bomb, when certain doom was an invisible third wheel lurking close by.
"Seriously?" Jack forced a laugh he did not feel. The weariness in Mac's eyes was more prominent thanks to the bruise that spread like ink over his cheek and edged the corner of his right brow. "I thought we had this conversation already back at The Narrow Path , bud, when we were stealing cookies and drinking coffee that was worlds better than the crap this hospital tries to pass off as such." He made sure to hold Mac's gaze, unflinching, willing his best friend to see the truth behind his words. " I'm not one to be ran off. Ever."
"It was strange for him-not you- to be here." Again there was trepitdation
"I'm sorry about that." Jack swallowed the bile that sprang to his throat. He'd one again failed at sparing his best friend one more round of 'let's feed all of Angus's insecurities' that James seemed hell bent on playing, whether the man was aware of what he was doing or not. Jack should have known James would not rely on him or allow him to take lead in the situation. "I had to call the family and as you can imagine that meant talking to not only Beth, but JP and your floor-pacing, hand-ringing, mother hen of a roommate, Bozer."
For the first time since arriving to the hospital, Mac actually smiled. A real one, that also reached his eyes, vanquishing the ghosts for the time being. "I don't think you can legitimately call anyone else out for mother-hen moves, dude. At least not without coming off as a complete hypocrite."
"Hey," Jack crossed his arms over his chest, "I'll have you know, I'm far from a mother hen, much more of a Papa Bear kind of guy. There's no pecking and scratching and flapping of wings when I'm worked up for good reason."
"Did you growl and paw the ground until the doctor agreed that I should stay here." Mac gestured to the IV, his eyes lingering on the hospital ID bracelet with his name on it.
"Don't look at me, brother." Jack reached out and closed his fingers over the plastic marker, giving the kid's wrist a comforting squeeze. "I imagine your doctor came to that decision all on his own after viewing the inside workings of that giant brain of yours."
"It's only a mild concussion," Mac assured. He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly. "He said my ribs were fine, but my kidney was bruised. I think that's what might have warranted the extra caution."
Or your father spoke to him, Jack wanted to say. For the second time that day, he found the super human strength to do the impossible and stop his mouth from running off without his brain. Yet again, that power came from his love for the kid looking at him now. The desire to spare Mac more than the desire to through Oversight under the bus.
He cleared his throat. "Better safe than sorry, bud."
Mac frowned, proving his ability to read Jack like a book. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking…" Jack removed his hand from Mac's wrist, using it to tug at the blanket covering the kid, "That for two decorated soldiers, you and I have remarkably shitty luck on patriotic holidays. Maybe we should just stay inside and have a movie marathon or play some video games when Veteran's Day rolls around this September."
Mac snorted, Jack's redirect working like magic. "This had nothing to do with luck, Jack. It was careless science, just like your being shot on Memorial Day was a consequence of the rabid opiate addiction we have in this country."
Jack refolded his arms over his chest, trying to look stern. "All I'm saying is you and me have seen too many hospital rooms lately. I'd at least like to make it to Christmas without another night in one of those spine twisters they pass off as reclining chairs."
"You don't have to stay. In fact, you shouldn't. Riley and the others came all this way to…"
"Be with family." Jack quickly finished for his friend, seeing through the suggestion. The kid wasn't the only one who could read his partner like a book. Mac did not want to be left alone. "You're my family, Mac. I'm not going any damn where. Anyone who knows me understands that."
"Fine. Be stubborn and let Billy get your choice filet." Mac's eye roll couldn't quite cover the relief that showed on his bruised face.
"Nana Beth has my back," Jack assured. "I'm still her second favorite grandson."
"Nana may have your back, but Billy has pecs and eigth pack abs." Mac bobbed his brows.
Jack snorted. "Do you really think our sweet grandmother would be swayed by the lust of the flesh and eyes?"
"Having seen her latest round of paintings, yes. Yes, I would believe the male form holds certain sway over her, saint or not."
"Not that I'm prone to believe the woman who practically raised me would toss me aside to court favor with Billy Colton, but I'll text Bozer that he better put my prize aside if he doesn't want to take up your slack on the chores over the next couple of days." Jack nudged the kid's leg, recognizing some good old fashion redirection on the kid's part. "Now should we talk about Harmon first or the most recent conversation with your father?"
"Do we have to discuss either?" Mac actually pulled off a really decent pitiful expression. His forehead pinching just so that he appeared to be in pain. "I'm really tired, Jack and…"
"And…" Jack interrupted. "We both know you'll rest a lot better when you get whatever's weighing on you off your chest, brother."
"Jack…"
"Angus." Jack arched a brow. He could match the kid's stubbornness when need be. "Flashbacks are nothing to brush off. The stress you've been under lately, well, there's no surprise you'd be primed and ready for a good row with some old demons, but it's my job to make sure that's all it is. It's one thing if that explosion merely shook you up, maybe triggered a roll of really similar memories, but it's another if you're having a hard time with things that happened in the past and maybe haven't mentioned it to me. Harmon dying had nothing to do with anything you did, but if you've been having nightmares about him or anything else from Afghanistan…"
"Jack,I've not been dreaming about Afghanistan," Mac assured quickly, his gaze unflinching when Jack continued to level him with a doubtful stare. "I swear, Jack. I haven't thought of Harmon in years, and I think I only did today because of the unexpected blast."
"That's…" Jack started to say a relief, but Mac continued on, his voice holding a barely detectable quiver.
"I've been dreaming about something else."
From the look of complete fear that flashed through the kid's eyes, Jack's first thoughts were fucking Murdoc, or Craddock. Those were things made of nightmares and he'd battled those particular dream-walking monsters with Mac more than once. It made him want to track both men down and take his time making them pay for ever touching his kid. Somehow he found his way through the haze of anger, his voice not sounding much steadier than Mac's.
"What's that, kid?"
"Thornton."
"Patty?" That was not what Jack had been expecting. In fact, he hadn't considered their old director any kind of threat. Sure the betrayal had stung, especially coming on the heels of what Nikki Carpenter had pulled, but he was certain Mac had let that whole mess go.
"Not just her, but that room…that room she had built to hold me, the cell she put me in at Phoenix the first time Murdoc showed up on the scene." "Mac's voice had grown quiet once more, his gaze lingering on something only he could see on his blanket.
Jack felt his mouth go dry. He'd had the worst argument with Thornton after that whole fiasco, livid that she'd done such a thing behind his back. When Mac had described the 'MacGyver' proof room, the lengths that had been gone to in order to prevent Mac from escaping, Jack had nearly lost his mind, and turned in his resignation. It was only after Patty had assured him that it was a prototype, a sort of experiment, to test their ability to hold even the most resourceful felon, and not one to hold Mac, had Jack agreed to listen to reason, thought it still left a bad taste in his mouth. The very idea of it made him for the first time compare DXS with some of the sinister shit done at Langley. Even after he'd calmed down, it had taken Mac, and the whole thing with Bozer finding out who they were, what they really did, and then him coming on board, to convince Jack to stay, to try to believe her explanation. In hind sight, he might have been better to get all of them out of the damn mess then, when his gut told him something wasn't on the up and up.
"You think your old man designed that room."
It wasn't even a question. Jack wasn't sure how he knew, but one look at the anguish now filling Mac's eyes and he knew that was exactly what had been eating at the kid all this time.
"Sometimes I dream I'm locked in there. Alone. It's not Patty that makes me go, but James. I can't find a way out. Everything I try…it fails, because someone who knows me-who thinks like me designed it perfectly so that I can never get away." Mac's breathing sped up, and Jack glanced at the monitor when it beeped with an increased heart rate. He watched the kid as he rocked forward a bit, curling in on himself as he closed his eyes, obviously trying not to slip into the remembered panic he must have felt every time he had such a nightmare. Mac rubbed two fingers over the bandage on his forehead, pain lines growing deeper around his eyes."I feel trapped." He shook his head. "Controlled. And I'm all alone."
"Hey now," Jack reached out and laid his hand on the back of Mac's neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Look at me."
Mac's blues eyes opened and met his. Wide and wary as if he still had one foot in that dream-scenario, but Jack held on tighter, determined to keep the kid with him. "No one is going to put you somewhere you don't want to be. Not for long. It took you what, Angus? All of five minutes to get out of that damn box they probably spent years refining. I didn't even have time to cool my heels before you were outside ready to go. Whomever made it obviously misjudged you, didn't know half as much as they thought they did. Even if it was James…"
"It was him." Mac's eyes took a more anger-filled gleam, the one that turned his sky colored irises to a dangerous steel gray, like a winter storm had set in. "I asked him and he admitted it was his idea."
"Today? He told you that just now?" Jack choked, wishing once more he'd not trusted Oversight to let him lead the charge for once where Mac was concerned. He suppressed the urge to ball his hands into fists, instead taking a deep, calming breath that disproved Matty's belief that he had no control over his temper when it came to James.
Mac nodded, serious. "I had to know before I could decide to get out of the desert for good, to go north."
For a moment Jack wondered if what the kid was taking in through the IV might be doing the talking, if maybe it was the drugs and James MacGyver hadn't had the insane idea to build the perfect prison for his child. Yes it was technically a really nice room in a safe building-but a cell was still a cell when it was designed to keep someone against their will. But then he remembered his grandmother's antics at the ranch, and how he'd heard that particular turn of phrase 'now turn north' a few times while growing up.
"Nana gave you the Deuteronomy speech, didn't she?"
Mac nodded, picking at the edges of the tape holding his IV in place. "She said sometimes making a decision, even the wrong one was better than lingering in a place where you had no direction."
"But you needed another piece of the puzzle filled in." Jack raked a hand over his hair, his mind now going down the rabbit trail of James MacGyver being Patricia Thornton's boss. The idea had of course crossed his mind, but hadn't taken hold before, too much else muddying the waters. Of course Mac would have questions about their former director and her relationship to Oversight, a woman who had mentored him and helped train him to become the agent he was now. Mac had to worry she was yet another puppet in his father's arsenal.
"He said it was just another measure to protect me. Everything he did was to protect me and help me. Phoenix needed me, and I had proved to be a valuable, although sometimes volatile asset. He told me it was meant to be more of a safe-house than any kind of holding facility." Mac licked his lips, looking so much like the kid Jack understood logically that he wasn't that his chest ached something fierce so that Jack considered he'd somehow reopened his healing gunshot wound. "I asked him that if that were true, then why wasn't there a way for me to get out."
"What did he say?" Jack wanted to hear the answer himself. He'd made Patty swear she'd dismantled the damn room. Even after Mac had escaped it, the very idea that the powers that be might work to reinforce it or build something more 'MacGyver proof' terrified him. It was one of the reasons Jack now had a contingency plan in place, new identities and a shelter to go that no government agency would think to look, thanks to the unlikely friends they'd made in The Brotherhood. One word and Jack Dalton knew he and the kid could disappear. He had two silver rings with his father's dog tags back home in his cigar box to prove it. Thanks to James the highly unlikely possibility that they would ever need to take such drastic measures seemed all too possible now.
"He didn't need to answer." Mac blinked, a sigh escaping him. "The look on his face said it all."
"Bud…" Jack started, wanting desperately to make it right, to somehow spin this new fact so that it wouldn't hurt his best friend. He wanted to twist it and manipulate it like one of Mac's paperclip sculptures so he could make something pretty and shiny out of it. At the least something that wasn't fowl and disgusting.
Jack understood that James MacGyver did indeed love his son. He'd seen it on his face. In Mexico, and at the ranch when the explosion happened. In his weird mixed up way the man probably did see everything he'd done as some grand gesture of fatherhood, but Jack also recognized that love, while covering a multitude of sins, could not wash away the ugliness of the years of deception James had orchestrated, no matter his intentions. Even if he'd left in the beginning for Mac's own good, why did he continue to stay away, to manipulate things from behind a magic screen, like some fucked up Great Oz.
"It's okay, Jack," Mac interrupted, seeming to intuit the internal struggle Jack was having to offer up some sort of absolution, the ultimate hat trick. He gave the older man a smile that despite the conversation he'd apparently just had with his dad, was damn near genuine. Jack knew it was a façade."I'm tired of trying to reconcile the man James is to the one I wanted him to be, the one I imagined in my head all those years he was gone. He's basically a stranger and me assuming I know anything about him is almost as bad as him thinking he knows who I am or what I need."
"Mac, you've not done anything wrong here," Jack insisted, unwilling to let the kid think otherwise.
"I ran off to Puerto Rico. I quit my job without thinking of the consequences, deserted my team. Left you."
Jack sighed, rubbing a finger over his brow. "We've been round about that, brother. You did what you felt you had to."
"That sounds like something James would say."
"Mac…"
"I told him to go back to LA." Mac said, his face a mask of calm. Jack didn't miss the way his fingers were twisted tightly in the blankets, even the tops of the ones peeking out from the brace. "I want to stay at Phoenix, but I don't want a relationship with him. At least not some father and son, instant, cookie-cutter happy ending. Not right now. Maybe someday." 'Maybe never' rang loud and clear in the silence between them.
"Are you sure?" Jack had to ask, although a part of him-a huge one-cheered the decision. He was all for forgiveness and making a mends, but he wasn't keen on Mac going blindly forward in a relationship just because he thought it was the right thing to do, especially when James had never, as far as Jack knew, ever told his son how sorry he was for the pain he'd caused. A crazy smart kid had once told him that a sincere apology was the first step in the road to redemption.
"He left me behind because it was easier for him. He was thinking about what he needed, not what I needed. James made it to be about my mother, but he waited five years after she died."
It was the part Jack never bought either. If the man had been mourning his wife, how did he not realize the woman still lived in the boy she left behind. As Mac grew older-if James had taken the time to notice-he'd been given the love he lost back, in ways he'd never imagined.
"He can say it was because he was protecting me, but the fact was, he waited five years after my mom died. Five years of wandering in his own desert before finally taking his turn north. That move took him away from me, and on a journey that had no place for him to be any kind of a father, but he refused to give up anything completely." Mac's eyes were bright, and Jack knew the drugs flowing through the IV were partially responsible for the lowering of the barricade that usually stayed tightly in place around Mac's heart, the one he worked so hard to keep erect and uncompromised, even, at times, with Jack.
"Your old man isn't the first guy to want his cake and eat it, too." Jack gave a little laugh, running a hand over his mouth. Everything about this sucked and he couldn't help once more feeling a twinge of guilt for pushing the kid to look for James. "Many a fool has tried that, son."
Mac watched him for a moment before his mouth twitched, more of the old Mac-pre-James-showing through. "That particular idiomatic proverb is easier to understand if it's read as 'You can't eat your cake and have it, too'. It literally means you cannot simultaneously retain your cake and eat it. Once the cake is eaten it's gone."
"However you say it, the meaning is still the same," Jack said, feigning exasperation. He rolled his eyes, seeing what his partner was doing. Their serious heart to heart was about at its end. Mac needed the normalcy and if his repeated blinking and stifled yawns were any indication he also needed some sleep. Without nightmares. So Jack played his part and gave Mac just what he needed. "You're trying in your convoluted academia way to make it sound as complicated as that Shroeder's cat theory."
"It's Schrodinger's cat, which you know." Mac leaned back against the pillow, taking his own tone of exasperation. "Shroeder is the kid Lucy likes on Charlie Brown, the one who plays the piano."
"Well, give me Snoopy snoozing on his doghouse over a possibly dead cat in a box any old day. I even like the paper giraffe thing better." Jack reached out pressed the button that lowered the top of the bed so Mac was once more reclining. He stood, stifling a groan at his stiff muscles as he pointed at his partner. "How about you get some quick shut eye while I run out and grab us some real grub for dinner. There's a legendary barbecue place just down the street. We may even be able to see the fireworks from the big old Austin Symphony show."
Mac yawned. "Or you could go back to the ranch and eat that steak you've been coveting for weeks and watch JP try to pull off his yearly outdoing of what's going on at the Vic Mathias Auditorium."
"No way." Jack propped his hands on his hips, already set and certain of his place, which would always be beside Mac. Besides, he was a man who understood that you shouldn't ask for more than you deserved. That trying to hold onto two things that were completely incompatible was not only foolish and selfish but usually meant someone got cheated. Jack especially understood that sometimes a man's choice to turn north could take him right back to the desert, where he'd discover what he'd been looking for the whole damn time. He grinned at Mac. "Now do you want ribs or pulled pork?"
"Can I have both?" Mac arched a brow, blinking owlishly. He once more struck a painful resemblance that damn nineteen year old kid Jack had first encountered in Afghanistan.
"Sure," Jack snorted, grabbing his cowboy hat from where he'd tossed it on the chair. He placed it on his head, and tugged the rim down. "Why the hell not, brother."
After all, if anyone deserved to have his cake and eat it, too, it was one Angus MacGyver.
The End for Now...
I am planning a holiday story called 'Let's Be Enemies'. Keep your fingers crossed!