Jack heard the key hit the lock and he quickly swiped at his eyes. "Hey, bud," he called out without turning. Even if anyone else had the keys, he knew Mac's step too well to wonder who came in.

Mac opened the refrigerator and put in a gallon bottle of orange Gatorade, Jack's usual preference. "Hey, bug guy. Got done with the mission report and went looking for you at Medical … But funny thing, you'd already disappeared, even though Matty was pretty explicit about where you were supposed to be."

Jack half turned as Mac came over and dropped down onto the couch next to his partner. "Yeah, well …" Jack started. "They were real busy, and I was all good so …"

"You told Foster off again, didn't you?" Mac smirked.

"I did not … Okay, maybe slightly; but he had it comin'. Is Matty pissed?"

"Usually," Mac chuckled. "But don't worry. I told her Dr. Rosa already said you were fine, but you were probably too tired and grumpy to put up with protocol here at home and I promised to look out for you. She just gave me that motherly look she's been getting lately so I got while the gettin' was good."

"Probably a good move where Matilda is concerned in general," Jack said absently, fingering the dog tags Bozer had somehow pulled off a Mac level miracle to return.

"Bozer texted me that he found your stuff. I'm really happy for you, Jack."

"Yeah, thanks, bud." "Wish finding what you need was that easy," Jack's voice had gone a little husky again and he was seemingly lost in what was on the TV.

Mac glanced at the screen, which was currently playing Moonlighting and his smile turned a little sad. "C'mon, buddy, let's go get that steak I promised you, since you didn't hang around long enough for the Scrubs Squad to do anything about your blood loss."

Jack shrugged, still warming the tags between his fingers. "I don't know, man. I'm beat. I'm not even really hungry … and I don't wanna go sit in some restaurant and …"

"I'll spring for Zane's. You love the steak there. And they do takeout."

Jack smiled slightly. "Big spender. Alright. I guess I could eat takeout. How long you gonna be gone? I'll find Last Boy Scout."

"Uh uh, buddy. I'm not leaving you here all alone, so you can pass out and crack that thick skull of yours. You'll wind up right back where you started, with Foster pissing you off and shining that godawful penlight in your eyes. C'mon."

Jack heaved a sigh, but got up and got his coat and shoes on and followed Mac to his Jeep. After a little while of driving the got caught up at an intersection and it seemed to pull Jack out of his own head. "Um, Mac," he began.

"This isn't the way to Zane's, bud."

"Yeah, I know." Mac paused. Then as traffic started moving again, Mac made the turn that let Jack know exactly where they were headed. "Whenever you watch Moonlighting, it means you want to come talk to your dad."

Jack made a funny little confused face, as Mac took the final turn to the cemetery. "What the hell does Moonlighting have to do with my old man?

Mac chuckled as he pulled into a parking space as close as he could get to where Jack could go have the talk he clearly needed to have.

"What the hell does my loving a classic long running tv series have to do with anything?" he asked again.

Mac's lips twitched in a smile that was at once affectionate and a little sad. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed the resemblance, Jack."

"Resemblance?" Jack frowned.

He really hadn't put it together. Mac shook his head. "That picture of all you kids and your dad … from when you were about fifteen or so … The one your mom keeps in her kitchen?"

"What about it?" Jack asked still frowning.

"That's the only picture I've ever seen of him when he was young. Well, the only picture when he was just dressed for a day fishing with his kids instead of in uniform. And … Jack … he looks an awful lot like …"

Jack's jaw slackened a little. He'd never even … not for a second. "I … I guess I never …"

"And he's always the hero, always gets the bad guys, always shows up in time for the people who need him in all those movies and stuff. I can see …" Mac cleared his throat. "I can see why you want to connect with that when things have gone pear-shaped."

"I guess maybe I see the connection," Jack conceded with a smile. They got out of the car. Mac came around to his side and stood next to him.

The idea of his dad as John McLain was awfully appealing. "You like 'em too, all those movies though, don't pretend you don't."

Mac smiled. "Of course I do. Die Hard got me through that Christmas when I was first with you and the guys and I got myself ..."

"The Purple Target medal?" Jack inquired wryly.

Mac laughed, shaking his head. "You guys thought that was so funny …" He mock glared at his partner, then cracked up again. "Okay it was pretty funny."

He took out his phone, opened his photo gallery, and passed it to Jack. He'd gotten Jack's mom to take a picture of the framed photo in her kitchen and send it to him. Jack took it and looked at it thoughtfully. A smile began curving his mouth.

"You look like him, you know," Mac said quietly. The implication that Jack's resemblance to an action hero they spent a fair amount of time watching, was left unsaid, but Mac didn't mind if the man made a few inferences. "And I'm glad Boze found your stuff … and nothing would have stopped me from looking for it, too Jack, but you were right. You carry all the important stuff around with you."

Jack pulled Mac into a one-armed hug, and like he often had since the Murdoc incident occurred, Mac let it happen. In fact, he put an arm around Jack's back for a moment and hugged back. Then he let him go. "Go talk to your dad, man. I'll get dinner and be back soon."

"Alright. Thanks, man." Jack started down the path toward his father's final resting place. Mac followed to make sure he made it the short distance without any dizziness or other problems.

"You okay here while I go get food?"

"Of course I am," Jack said, sinking down onto the ground and making himself at home.

"Do not go wandering around a quart low; do you hear me?" Jack turned back, and Mac raised an eyebrow and tried to look severe, but the grin kind of ruined it.

"Yes, Mother," Jack grinned back.

He heard Mac's steps fade as he went back to the car to go get them some dinner. He glanced around. There was no one else anywhere near this plot, so it was probably pretty safe to have the chat he'd been thinking about since he'd told Mac about the dog tags back in Columbia.

"Hey, Pops," Jack began. "How ya been?"

Jack started a familiar rambling update on the family since the last time he'd visited. Then after he got into the flow of things, he started talking a little about himself, and finally he unloaded about everything that had happened the last couple of months.

Recounting what had happened first with Riley and her first solo mission, then with Murdoc and Mac, unsurprisingly got the tears going again. Talking to his dad about the kids always felt very natural. Updating Gramps, so to speak. Then he talked about losing the tags and it reminding him that he had all the good stuff he needed without them, and how Bozer was slowly making his way into what Jack considered family. In fact, he thought it might be official after this.

He talked about how damned grateful he was to have a friend like Mac who would have been willing to scour the planet with him to find them, before Bozer had solved the problem for him. He retold the tale of his conversation with Mac about wishing they could have known each other.

"And Pops, I know he says you guys would have had a complicated relationship. Hell, I know how you feel about your radio and the kid definitely would have taken it apart. Maybe just to see the look on your face. Sometimes I swear that why he takes my stuff for his … inventions … contraptions … whatever he wants to call 'em. But I don't think it would have been complicated at all."

Jack paused, taking a slow not quite shuddering breath. "I think you woulda more or less adopted him … Just like I have. And even when it drives him nut, I'm so damned glad to be there for him, like you were for me … But he deserves something like this. I don't mean sittin' in a cemetery talking to a memory, Pops, but knowing his real dad. Knowing how that story ends … Or maybe startin' a new one. And I'm gonna find a way to make it happen. I love the hell out of that kid."

Jack was wiping his face, when Mac sat down on the ground next to him, pretending he hadn't heard the end of that conversation. "Hey Jack." And this time, without being prompted, he added, "Hey, Mr. Dalton. Hope you straightened Jack out for me and that he's ready to go home and have some steak."

Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Sorted me right out, kid." He held Mac's eye for a second. "Thanks, man."

"Thank me after you've tried the steak. Chef T swears it's pure Texas and it smells pretty damned good, but I know how you feel when people claim to have replicated the homeland."

"Help me up, wouldja?"

Mac got to his feet and helped Jack do the same.

"Bye Pops," Jack said over his shoulder as they started back toward the car.

"Bye, Mr. Dalton," Mac said, without any of the teasing he might have previously put into his voice.

When they got back to the car, Jack sighed with something like contentment at the smells coming from the take-out containers. "Mmmmm. That does smell like home."

"Like some place you'd like to be?"

"Yeah. Kinda want to give everybody a big hug and eat too much before much more time passes."

"How about next leave we both go to the ranch? Ri, too if you want … I talked to your mom today and she may or may not have laid out a couple of believable threats if we don't come visit soon. Flights are on me, but room and board are on the lovely and talented Mrs. Dalton."

"You really want to do that?" Jack's question showed his appreciation for what Mac was working to set up, but also an acknowledgement that he knew Mac found the big family gatherings, the boisterousness, the open affection and emotion, of the Dalton clan a little overwhelming.

"Yeah, I do," Mac answered. "I think, after everything the last couple months has held, it'd be good to spend some time with family."

That Mac considered Jack a part of his, and was becoming comfortable with openly saying so, was the only thing other than his dad's dog tags that could have made Jack Dalton feel quite as lucky as he did just then. It was such a good feeling, in fact, Jack bought at lottery ticket on the way home for dinner.

The promised true Texas steak did not disappoint. Nor did the one they had a few weeks later when they managed to get back to Texas for near enough the holiday for it to feel like one. Sitting out by a proper fire, smelling the horse barn and feeling too full of the excellent meal his mother had insisted on preparing, Jack sighed, and stretched his feet toward the flames, "This is the good life."

Mac glanced at his partner and raised his beer in salute, "It's all life until you're dead."

Jack snorted laughter. "Now that is an obscure one. The man himself as Dwayne Hoover in Breakfast of Champions."

"Accurate, too," Mac grinned.

"You can drop a reference like that, I have to wonder if you're a bigger fan than me," Jack teased.

Mac grinned again. "Water is wet, the sky is blue, and old Satan Claus is out there Jack …"

Their soft laughter carried into the night. Jack's mother looked out on them occasionally. She never slept much anymore. She'd often lamented that her son never had a boy of his own. That was not something she thought about anymore. Because she knew Jack didn't think of it like that either.