The sun is starting to peak over the horizon and into his third floor window. Mac slowly opens his eyes and blearily looks towards the clock. It's just before six. About two hours since he was last woken. He let his head fall back exhaustedly against the pillow and his eye slip shut again.
Post-procedure vital signs are a awful. He remembers vaguely the nurse explaining the timing; how often they would be checking his blood pressure when he got to the room late last night, but it seemed like the BP cuff they left wrapped around his arm for half the night inflated about every three minutes. Combine that with the IV in his antecubital vein, in the crook of his elbow connected to a pump that released a high pitched wail, claiming the line was "occluded" every time he tried to curl up into his preferred sleeping position. And the continuous pulse ox probe on his finger, which he kept accidentally pulling off every time he moved. It was a rough night for him and the night shift crew.
He finally stopped apologizing every time they came in to turn off beeping alarms.
A squeaky cart wheels down the hallway, and he can faintly hear an IV pump squawking from somewhere across the unit.
A hospital, the place where you probably need the most rest, is the place you keep getting woken up, his nurse joked with him during one of her mid night rounds, when she finally released him from the blood pressure cuff. One less piece of equipment that he's tethered to.
There is a quiet tap on his door and he's tempted to just hold out his arm for whatever vital signs check they want and keep his eyes closed.
"Mac, it's Dr. Janessa," a woman's voice says coming closer.
He looks up, slightly surprised to see his surgeon here already this morning, but feeling hopeful that she's here this early to get him discharged. He mentioned, several times yesterday, wanting to go home as soon as possible.
"How are you feeling?"
Mac pushes up slightly in the bed, trying not to wince at the pain the motion causes. "Better."
She smiles. "I'm not surprised. Your appendix was a mess. It hadn't burst, but it started coming apart when I touched it. Pretty gross."
Mac pulls a face at her words, a little surprised by her candor.
"How's your pain?"
"I don't really have any," Mac says after a pause. "A little when I move, but nothing like before."
"Well, based on what I saw, you've probably got a pretty high pain tolerance if you didn't come in until last night. And I don't think the anesthesia is completely out of your system yet. Can I take a look at the incisions?"
Mac carefully pulls the hospital gown loose, adjusting the sheets to keep them tucked around his hips. Five bandaids across his abdomen. Five small incisions, just like he was promised.
"Like we talked about pre-op we were able to do the surgery laparoscopically. So, no four inch long incision. Less pain and improved healing time. The bandaids can come off later today and the steristrips underneath will fall off on their own." She palpates his stomach. Mac braces, this time for when she pulls her hands away. He learned his lesson yesterday, but pleased that the pain doesn't increase. Just mildly sore muscles.
"So, can I go home?"
She hedges. "You did have a low grade fever overnight. I'd like to keep an eye on that, and see you eat something first. Walk around the unit a few times. I'll round again this afternoon and we can talk about it more then."
Mac protests, "there's a meeting at work I really can't miss."
"Oh absolutely not. I'll write you a note. I don't want you going back to work for at least a week. And no strenuous activity, no lifting anything heavier than a jug of milk for two weeks."
Mac protests. Remembering the nightmares sends his mind is racing. He need to prove his worth, earn his keep. He's already the weak link in the DXS chain. So far his career as a government agent hasn't been impressive.
"You just had surgery. You're going to need some time to recover. Your boss will understand."
Mac doesn't share her optimism.
"Do you have any questions for me right now?"
Mac shakes his head, disappointment written on his face.
"We'll get you out of here as soon as we safely can. And the weather's supposed to be beautiful all next week. Take some time off to enjoy it," she says as she heads for the door, pulling the curtain closed behind her.
Failing his first mission, and missing his first debrief isn't going to inspire confidence. Thornton and Jack will have to cover for him. Just another example of how he doesn't belong. Doesn't have the skills to keep up in a covert ops organization. The CIA might think he has something to hide when he doesn't show up.
Jack's told him stories about how he's been shot in the morning and back in the field by lunch. Shot. A little laparoscopic appendectomy isn't anything compared to that.
He peels back the clear tegaderm dressing that protects the IV and slides the cannula out of his forearm.
He can't remember exactly what he dreamed while under anesthesia, but the residual anxiety it left behind is stronger than any fear of pain keeping him from moving around.
There's dread in the back of his mind that had been mostly relieved after their initial debrief yesterday. Jack defended their actions. Thornton told them the debrief was more of a formality
What if after listening to Waller's reports Thornton decides to cut him loose? What if she decides he's a liability? Does he have to go back to the Army? Back to disarming bombs in the desert?
Jack said they were a package deal. If Mac messes up, does he mess this deal up for Jack too?
Mac doesn't know which would be worse, if his screw up made them send Jack back to Afghanistan with him. Or if he had to go back alone.
It would only be fair to make him go alone. Jack is a more valuable asset. He's already got the skills needed to be a government agent. He's wasted in the desert looking after one bomb nerd.
But Mac doesn't know if he'd survive going back alone.
He finds a plastic bag of his belongings in the closet and carefully dresses, wincing as he pulls his t-shirt over his head.
He needs to get to DXS.
Not for his own sake, but for Jack's.
"Where have you been?"
Jack's loud drawl from behind him causes Mac to freeze in his steps. He turns around, trying to keep the deer in headlights look out of his eyes.
He stammers.
"Thought I was supposed to be picking you up for donuts this morning?"
Right, with everything that happened in the last few hours he'd completely forgotten about Jack's plan to ease his nerves and make sure he ate.
"Went by the house and it was empty."
Mac breathes a silent sigh of relief that Jack didn't run into Bozer this morning. Hasn't heard about his extemporary appendectomy.
"You weren't answering your phone, which is kind of a huge no-no. Lucky it was just me and not Patty trying to get a hold of you."
Mac pats his pockets, finding his cell phone and sees that it's dead. "Guess I forgot to charge it yesterday when we got back."
"Okay, well, don't do that again, because you had me worried." Jack mildly scolds. "Still doesn't explain where you've been."
He really should just tell Jack what happened, and he is planning to do just that. Tell Jack everything. That Bozer took him to the hospital, and he had his appendix taken out last night. He might even confess to sneaking out of the hospital this morning, which admittedly now that he's been moving around more, and the residual pain meds are wearing off was probably a monumentally stupid idea.
Jack is studying him, eyes narrowing suspiciously, as if he can tell Mac is hiding something. It causes a momentary panic to flood through Mac. The idea of Jack seeing his weakness. Of recognizing it and knowing him well enough to comment on it. Only Bozer has ever known him that well. The vulnerability of someone else being able to read him, and know what he's thinking, feeling, leaves him feeling shaky. Or maybe that's still the anesthesia.
Jack's staring at him. A puzzled, concerned look on his face.
Mac opens his mouth.
But he's saved by the bell as Jack's phone buzzes. Jack glances down at the screen, then holds it up for Mac to see. "Why's Bozer calling me? Didn't say goodbye before you left this morning?"
Mac knows he's about to get busted. Either Bozer is calling Jack just to keep him updated on what's going on with Mac. Because Mac is sure that Jack gets regular reports from Bozer on his sleeping and eating habit and if nightmares left him yelling.
Or the more likely scenario, Bozer arrived at the hospital bright and early and is sounding the alarm on Mac's escape.
He has a feeling the impending explosion is going to be spectacular, and he should definitely confess before Jack answers the phone.
But the door to the War Room opens and Thornton steps out. "Sometime today gentlemen."
Jack declines the call.
A momentary reprieve.
There are two suits that Jack doesn't recognize in the conference room when they enter behind Thornton. Jack leans over to whisper instructions in Mac's ear. "Follow my lead. They're gonna try to get your goat. That's how they operate. Don't let 'em."
Mac almost snorts at Jack's colloquialism. It's not one he's heard often in California, but Texas rancher Dalton loves his animal references.
The door opens again and Waller strides in, ignoring both Mac and Jack.
Jack glares at him anyway. He has half a suspicion that Waller is responsible for this debrief, trying to blame his negligence and incompetence on them.
"Now that we're all assembled, please, take a seat so we can get started," the female suit, calls the meeting to order. Jack settles in right next to Mac, with Patty on the kid's other side. Jack feels a bit like they're circling the wagons.
Folders containing after action reports are passed around the table so each person receives their own copy. Then female suit turns on the recorder in the middle of the table. "This is Standard's Supervisor Sondra Connolley, CIA"
"Peter Waller, Field Operations Leader, CIA"
"Timothy Vang, Operations Supervisor, CIA."
Around the table it goes, the DXS agents identifying themselves next.
After introductions, Connolley reminded them that this was an informal inquiry then asked each agent involved to briefly recap the mission.
Mac exchanges a look with Jack. Waller's account is exceptionally brief, and increasingly hostile towards them. Jack gives an imperceptible nod of encouragement to his young partner.
"Following confirmation of the HQ-16 missile system, both Agent MacGyver and I noted a shooter enter the seating area. I called out a warning and the suspect began firing a moment later. I immediately returned fire, killing the suspect."
"And losing any information he could have offered us in the process," Vang says. "Did you have confirmation that the man had a gun?"
Jack scowls. "He started firing about half a second after I yelled, so I think that's your confirmation, right there."
"But, did you see the gun prior to your warning?" Vang presses, leaning forward.
"I could tell the man had a weapon. Which he fired before I returned fire."
"And in doing so, allowed Samrozi the opportunity to escape during the confusion." Vang states.
"Agents Griggs and Hadley pursued Samrozi but were unsuccessful in apprehending him. Agent MacGyver followed and captured Samrozi's associate Yovan."
Connolley speaks up now. "Agent MacGyver, how long have you been partnered with Agent Dalton?"
Mac blinked at the sudden change in the line of inquiry. "Since June of 2011."
"So about nine months?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"But not with DXS."
"No, that was in the Army," Mac answers.
Jack watches Mac steadily as he answers the questions directed at him. There's faint sheen on his forehead. Jack really wishes he could have prepped Mac better for this. It's sure starting to feel less like a friendly informal debrief and more like an inquisition.
"Samrozi was a former contact of yours when you worked East Asia?" Connolley turns her attention back toward Jack.
Mac shifts uncomfortably in his seat, leaning heavily on the armrest of his chair.
Jack watches out of the corner of his eye, while directing his answers towards the suits across the table. "That's correct. It's why we were tapped for this mission."
"That's interesting," Connolley says mildly.
Jack shrugs, looking nonchalant. They're purposefully baiting him, changing the line of questioning to keep them off balance. Bounce back and forth between him and Mac.
"Agent Dalton, tell us about the interview with the suspect." Vang instructs.
Jack frowns. "Agent MacGyver and I were not involved with the initial interviews with Yovan."
"And neither of you are trained in information retrieval."
Jack's jaw clenches. "Not formally, no."
"Yet you were present during the interrogation?"
"Parts of it. Griggs and Hadley were information retrieval. Agent MacGyver and I were waiting for the intel the interrogation would yield so we could disarm the missiles."
Vang nods like he's digesting the information, like he's not about to change the line of questioning. "And at what point did you threaten Field Operations Leader Waller?"
Waller leans forward smirking at the question. Jack feels his blood pressure rising, his suspicions confirmed. He purposefully ignores the Waller's taunting gaze. A heavy frown creased Jack's face. Clenching and releasing his jaw as he considers the question. "Waller was out of line." He directs his answer towards the suits.
"He outranked you. His operation and yet you became aggressive with him."
"He was threatening to kill our only lead.
"A terrorist,"
"The only person who knew where Samrozi was," Jack counters.
"Debatable."
"Excuse me?" Jack seethes at the implied treason.
Vang looks down at the reports again. "You were a confidante of Samrozi at one point, perhaps you felt an obligation to that friendship?"
Jack snorts. "Friendship? Is anyone allowed to spout wild accusations here, or is that a CIA special?"
"That question was out of line, Supervisor Vang," Connolley steps in.
"Acknowledged," Vang replies.
"Oh, yeah, acknowledged," Jack snarks leaning back in his chair, arms folded tightly across his chest. Trying to rein in his anger.
"But, returning to the topic, isn't it possible to think that perhaps Agent Waller was using his enhanced interrogation training to break the suspect and get him to reveal Samrozi's location?" Vang slyly asks.
"He crossed a line." Jack says, matter-of-factly.
"That wasn't your call to make. When he told you to stand down you responded with," a rustling of paper and Vang makes a show of looking for the statement in the file in front of him. "'You can file it under, Jack don't care.'"
"Something like that."
"Comms were live at the time, we can play it back if you'd like."
"That's not necessary," Jack protests, but his own voice is already coming through the speakers of the room.
"No. This is over. You hear me? It's over!"
"Get your hands off of me."
"Stop it."
"I outrank you! That's an order. "
"You can file it under, Jack don't care."
The room quiet as the audio fades.
"It seems like of the four agents on site, you were the only one who opposed Agent Waller's methods."
"That's not true," Mac interjected, ignoring Jack's glare to keep quiet. "Waller was out of line. Griggs, Hadley and I all attempted-"
Vang interrupts. "Agent Dalton is the only one on the tape."
"His voice carries," Mac argues.
Jack can't help the smile that crosses his face at Mac's defense. Still, he unobtrusively slides his hand to rest on Mac's forearm to keep him from protesting further. He knows the games the CIA plays, they're just trying to get a rise out of them right now.
He can feel Mac's arm trembling under his hand. He didn't realize how upsetting Mac would find this. He tries to catch Mac's gaze to offer some reassurances, noting the slight flush on Mac's face.
"Maybe he was the closest to the comms. Agent Waller is heard saying 'get your hands off of me.' That would imply Agent Dalton is very close, wouldn't you say."
Mac remains quiet, heeding Jack's unspoken warnings. But the CIA officers know they drew blood, and focus their attention on Mac again.
Vang slowly flips the pages of his debrief. "Agent MacGyver, this was your first operation with DXS, is that correct?"
Mac lets out a slow breath. "Yes.
"You decline to carry a gun, that is unusual."
"I prefer to use other non-lethal methods to incapacitate a suspect. As we discovered in this debrief, it's hard to get information from a dead suspect."
"Your partner carries a gun."
"Now, wait a minute," Jack interrupts.
Mac stops Jack's impending tirade with a cautious look. "Is that a question?"
"An observation."
Mac remains quiet. He's having trouble focusing on the words. He can't help but think his surgeon was right. Sitting up in the chair is exhausting. Relieving the mission is exhausting. And he's acutely aware that any reprieve he'd had this morning from pain was probably just residual from the anesthesia during surgery because he's definitely feeling it now.
He almost doesn't care about the rest of the meeting. All he wants to do is lay down somewhere and sleep. If the CIA decides to lock in him a black hole that's fine, as long as they leave Jack alone, and there's enough room for him to curl up against the pain and sleep.
He'll confess the surgery and his escape to Jack. Take the lecture he's sure will follow and let Jack fuss over him.
Jack and Bozer might tag-team lecture him if he ever gets home but even that doesn't sound so bad. Not if it means he gets to lay down during it.
"You have anything to add?" Vang asks, breaking his reverie.
"Were you looking for confirmation of your observation?" Mac's voice had the faintest edge to sarcasm. Jack can't help the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. Only Mac could say something that snarky and sound like a boy scout.
Connolley raises an eyebrow at him. "Field agents, regardless of their affiliation, need to qualify with a service weapon."
"I said I don't carry one," condescension coloring his tone. "Never said I couldn't use one."
"Does that impact your working relationship with Agent Dalton?"
Mac swallows. "He does his part, I do mine," he forces out.
"And what if another agent needs assistance?"
"There were two of them, and two of us," Jack takes this question. "Are you so far removed from the field that you would consider leaving your partner, who is busy disarming multiple nuclear missiles, to fend for himself?"
"It's interesting that Agent Dalton and his partner are the agents that survived, especially considering his previous connection to Samrozi," Vang doesn't even attempt to veil his accusation.
"Is there a rest stop between here and the end of this witch hunt?" Jack asks, eyes boring into Thornton. She's sitting silently, observing the heated exchanges, that cool look on her face never once breaking.
"Something bothering your conscience, Dalton?" Its the first time Waller's spoken since his abbreviated mission recap.
"It is the word of a newly recruited EOD technician with an obligation to his partner. Said partner has documented issues with authority. Against a highly decorated Field Operations Leader with thirty years of exemplary service," Vang states. "The only other two witnesses are dead. No rescue attempts made by the agents in the field."
Jack sputters. "We were ordered to make ex-fil after the bombs went off. Waller said they were already dead. It should all be captured on the comms."
"The explosions damaged the audio," Connolley explains.
"Oh, you have the recording of my insubordination but not my rescue attempt." Jack sits back breathing heavily. He tries to catch Mac's gaze. The kid's staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, panting. He's leaning so hard to the right that he's practically planking across the armrests.
This is too much. Where is Patty with that damned ace up her sleeve that he promised Mac.
The door to the conference room opens. One of Patty's nameless assistants walks in, handing her a file before disappearing again.
Patty's face betrays nothing. "I noted that you didn't include Griggs and Hadley's Action Reports."
A peculiar look crosses Connolley's face. "Director Thornton, Griggs and Hadley are dead, there are no After Action Reports."
"And you're trying to pin your agency's incompetence on my agents. Luckily, at least two of your agents had some measure of foresight," she opens the file. "This is a preliminary action report, filed by Agents Griggs and Hadley, through their handler, on the morning of their deaths. Requesting an inquiry be opened into Field Operations Leader Waller's actions on this mission. It also calls into question other missions that are part of his thirty year service record."
Vang shifts uncomfortably. "How did you get that? Preliminary reports aren't generally shared outside-"
"When it involves my agents, there is no length I won't go to," Patty interrupts. "I believe we're done here, unless you would like DXS to run point on this?" She offers innocently.
Jack has never seen a group of CIA agents scramble so hard to leave a debrief. He cackles in delight, as Connolley mutters a lightning-speed closing narrative to the conclusions found in the debrief, and the three CIA operatives rush for the door, nearly leaving behind their equipment and files.
Thornton stands, straightening the jacket of her pantsuit. A satisfied smile on her face.
The cat that got the canary and the cream, Jack thinks.
She pauses behind Jack's shoulder on her way out the door. "Did you doubt me, Dalton?"
Jack turns in his chair to face her, shaking his head. "I never will again, Patty." He watches her eyes snap, and smiles. This new working relationship might be fun. The conference room door slides closed.
"Hey," Jack nudges Mac's arm, just the two of them left in the room now "It's over, man."
Mac looks up, stricken. "It is?"
Jack's brows knit together at Mac's soft voice and pain-filled eyes. "Yeah, all finished, bud."
"I'm sorry, Jack," tears fill his eyes. "It's my fault. Maybe, maybe I can talk to Thornton, you're worth more to her. Or sign up for another tour to keep you out of the Army, and you can retire if you want to."
"What are you talking about?" Jack asks, worried.
Perspiration beads on Mac's forehead. He stands, the chair scuttling backwards. He nearly takes a swan dive at the change in position. Would have hit the floor if not for Jack's strong arms catching him.
Mac yells in pain, hands protectively bracing his abdomen. "You're always catching me, and I can't even watch your back."
The kid's skin is hot under Jack's hands. "What's going on, hoss? Are you hurtin' somewhere? Thought you were gonna tell me if something was going on with you?"
Mac curls in on himself, guarding.
Jack pries Mac's hands away, but the kid is strong. "Let me see, Mac," he says pulling opened Mac's shirt and pushing away his undershirt. Jack freezes as the sight of five bandaids scattered across Mac's distended stomach. "What the hell?"
Jack's mind races, trying to figure out what he's looking at, how he missed Mac getting hurt. It can't be from the mission. There wasn't a time when Mac far enough away from him to be injured and Jack not notice.
The injuries don't make sense. They aren't bullet holes or knife wounds. Possible shrapnel, but the only explosion all mission was the one outside the warehouse that took out Griggs and Hadley. There's no way Mac could have been hit by flying debris.
"Patty!" Jack yells, hoping she's not too far down the hall to hear him. "Get a medic!"
Mac's bleary eyes open. His mind feels cloudy, floaty. There's a pinch in his arm, and the sensation of cool fluid running up his veins. A blood pressure cuff cycles, squeezing his bicep then releasing. His eyes slowly scan the room. Hospital bed, but it doesn't resemble the hospital room he left this morning. It takes him a moment to identify it as DXS medical, having been here only once, a few weeks ago for a mandatory physical.
"You waking up, hoss?" Jack's voice mellow and soothing.
Mac grunts, his throat feels like sandpaper.
"Here," Jack raises the head of the bed, and holds out a cup with a bendy straw. "Not sure when the last time you had something to eat or drink was. They said you could have clear liquids when you woke up."
Mac ducks his head, he's not sure either. He sucks on the straw greedily. Water cool on his parched tongue.
"Just a little bit," Jack says, pulling the cup away. "Don't need you getting sick. I imagine that wouldn't feel real good right now."
Mac keeps his head down, avoiding Jack's penetrating gaze.
"Hey, did you know you're missing an appendix?"
Mac nods miserably, not meeting Jack's gaze.
"You didn't do it yourself, did you?"
"What?!" Mac asks incredulously, looking up finally.
"Use that little red knife of yours and take out your appendix yourself with Bozer as a scrub nurse?"
Mac raises an eyebrow. "No," he says slowly. "Why would..."
"No, I'm just, I'm just trying to figure what level of dumb your brain went to, cause you know, walking yourself out of a hospital, not even waiting to sign yourself out against medical advice, eight hours after surgery and coming in for a debrief might have just been the tip of the iceberg of dumb. You obviously thought that was something you could handle, so I don't know. Maybe you thought you'd try your hand at surgery too?"
Mac gapes at him.
"That low grade fever your surgeon mentioned this morning, probably could have been headed off if you had stuck around the hospital a few hours. Gotten that last dose of antibiotics you were supposed to. And not stressed yourself out sitting up for hours trying to defend yourself against bogus accusations."
"You talked to my surgeon?" Mac asks surprised.
"Bozer did, when he showed up at the hospital and you were missing, causing a ruckus. That's why he was calling me this morning. But you knew that, didn't you?"
Jack rubs a hand across his stubble. "You remember our conversation yesterday where you promised to let me know if anything was going on with you?"
"Well, yes," Mac hedges. He doesn't know why. He knows it's not a good idea, but he can't stop the words spilling out. "But what I promised was to let you know if there was something that you needed to worry about."
A myriad of expressions that Mac can't quite read cross Jack's face, but he very clearly sees Jack close his eyes and count to ten. Mac starts to speak, but Jack holds up a finger, counting to ten again. Then once more for good measure. He takes a deep breath.
"I would say, that if one of your vital organs is in danger of exploding, that might be something you'd want to let me know. For future reference," Jack's voice is quiet, deadly calm.
"An appendix isn't vital."
"Damn it, Mac!" Jack smacks his hand against the bedside table, and stands up. He takes a step away from the bed with a deep breath, then whirls back to face the kid. "Any organ, vital or otherwise, imploding, exploding or incapacitating you in some way!" Jack paces, short stalking steps. "I need to know about these things. How am I supposed to do my job and protect you if you aren't honest with me?"
"It was just a debrief," Mac mumbles.
"Yeah, yeah, it was just a debrief. So why risk it?"
"What if they said it was our fault?"
"It wasn't our fault," Jack shakes his head, confused. "It wasn't our op, it wasn't our call."
"But what if they said it was. What if they they looked at all the reports and said we were responsible for Griggs and Hadley's deaths and we weren't there to defend ourselves."
Jack shrugs, the fight leaving him. "Then they'd have been wrong."
"You said they were looking for a scapegoat," Mac blinks.
"Well, yeah, they wanted to pass the buck, and that pisses me off. And it pisses me off that Patty made you sit through that whole CIA inquisition," Jack says. "But it was a formality."
"I just had to make sure that they wouldn't send you to Afghanistan."
Jack frowns. "What are you talking about, hoss?"
"When Director Thornton realizes I'm a liability, she might decide I'm not worth the favors it took to get the Army to discharge us. And then what happens? If DXS doesn't want me, do I have to go back to the Army? I've never been more relieved to leave anywhere than I was that desert. I thought I was going to die there," Mac confesses, blinking hard. Emotions bubbling close to the surface. "But I couldn't let my mistakes mess this up for you. Even if they sent me back, I couldn't let them send you back."
Jack sits heavily in the chair next to Mac's bed. "Mac, you didn't make any mistakes."
Mac continues, as it Jack hadn't spoken. "If the CIA made enough trouble, maybe Thornton would decide we weren't worth the effort. They can't hold my failings against you."
"Mac, bud," Jack's hand rubs across his mouth. He leans forward to make eye contact. "You didn't fail. Anything that went wrong on that mission, it wasn't your fault. You did your job. You disarmed the missiles and saved the world. How'd you get your brain all tangled up again? Thought you were gonna tell me when that happened too."
"I didn't want you to worry."
"It's my job to worry, and untangle your brain," Jack smooths a hand across Mac's warm forehead. Mac pulls away from the unfamiliar motion. "That fever probably gave you a hand in gettin' everything all snarled up. And I know I didn't help with that either." Jack squeezes Mac's shoulder. "No one is sending anyone back to the Army. That's not something you have to worry about, even if you couldn't disarm the missiles. Even if you had made a mistake."
Mac's head dips again. "But they died."
"Yeah, but, bud, it's not your fault. You can do everything right and still lose sometimes. That's not anyone's fault, that's life. And that's the life of an agent." Jack continues. "If you decide that you can't do it, don't want to live with it, well, no one is sending you back to the Army if you decide you want to leave either."
"I don't want to leave," Mac says, looking up imploringly at Jack.
"You don't have to make any kind of decision about that now. You still aren't feelin' good."
"If you're staying, I'm staying," Mac states, struggling to sit up straighter in the bed. "I go where you go."
Jack smiles. "Thought that was my line. We'll have plenty of time to talk about it over the next few weeks."
Mac frowns in confusion.
"Mandatory medical leave. If your doctor doesn't want you lifting a jug of milk, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want you disarming bombs and chasing terrorists," Jack says.
Mac bites his lip. Still feeling anxious and not completely convinced by Jack's words. Still worried about being a disappointment.
"If it wasn't for my connection with Samrozi, we probably wouldn't have been tapped for that mission. We probably would have gotten a little time to adjust to being home," Jack reassures. "Plenty of time for you and I to have a few more discussions about what kinds of things you need to let me know about. I'm sure Bozer will have a few suggestions too."
"Oh no, Bozer," Mac's eyebrows raise and eyes widen, almost comically.
"Oh yes, Bozer," Jack nods. "You might not be in trouble at work, but you're in quite a bit of trouble at home. Oh, you are on your own with Bozer, dude. I'll take on Thornton head to head for you if I need to, but I am not standing in Bozer's line of fire."
Jack left for a bit, in search of food, and Mac's been dozing since, when a light tap on the door wakes him.
Mac blinks in confusion for a moment, before straightening up against the pillow. "Director Thornton." His eyes widen and he pulls the sheets up higher against his chest.
"Agent MacGyver," she says, stepping further into the room and glancing around. "I'm a little surprised to find out that you were the first to check out DXS' medical facilities. I thought that honor would have belonged to Dalton."
She flashes him a rare smile, sitting down at the chair vacated by Jack. "I thought maybe we should have a talk."
Mac licks his lips nervously, worried what this talk will entail.
"I don't think we need to recap your actions after this last mission. I've heard that you and Dalton already... talked that out."
"Yes, ma'am," Mac says, feeling a flush rising on his cheeks that has nothing to do with his fever.
"I just wanted to make sure you understood that I'm not going to cut you loose because a mission goes awry. I'm not that far removed from the field to forget that situations happen and agents in the field handle them to the best of their abilities. Jakarta isn't even close to some of Jack's worst missions, or mine."
"I recruited you because I saw something I could use. Mold into a truly great agent. I saw a young man with the potential to change the world. Who could do anything, and I'm grateful you chose DXS. Your contract isn't some sort of indentured servitude. Some organizations may unofficially run like that, on repayment of favors, but not DXS." She shakes her head. "If you decide you're done, you can walk away, no questions asked," she stands now, heading for the door where she pauses. "But you pull something like this again, and I will put you on probation and confine you to the lab."
"Yes, ma'am," Mac replies seriously.
Her lips twitch, and she lets the mirth shine in her normally shuttered eyes. "I appreciate the... show of respect, but ma'am isn't necessary. You can just call me Thornton."