The nearer they got to sunrise, the more sure Mac was that they would be debriefing this instead of being picked out of the neighbors' hedges. Of course not being blown up was the only communication they had from the outside to gauge how Charlie was doing.
When it was finally light out, Jack had gone up for another drink for Mac, who had switched to Gatorade after several more miserable sweaty hours in his crawlspace. Charlie was waiting near the window and showed Jack a small smile and a thumbs up. Jack flashed him a smile and gave him a nod, peering out the window to see a team disassembling the rest of the components and loading them into a secure truck to transport them safely for further analysis.
Charlie raised a questioning eyebrow. Jack shook his head, making what he hoped were intelligible motions with his hands to indicate the bomb below the house was a series of complicated knots and puzzles. Charlie nodded, indicating his own had been fairly smooth sailing.
Jack let Mac know when he got back down into the crawlspace and he saw the kid's shoulders lower as some of his tension was immediately relieved. "Good, so he's getting clear?"
"Headin' to the command center with everybody else, far as I could tell," Jack said, holding out the opened Gatorade when Mac glanced at him.
Mac turned back toward the device for a moment, severing one connection that he'd been positive of, before taking the Gatorade and finishing half of it in one long drink. "You gonna give me shit because he beat me?"
"Well, now, I would," Jack teased, "But he sorta indicated his was real straightforward and it seems like this one is …"
"Totally backward?" Mac shrugged. "Kinda. I wish they'd all clear out. Now that the bombs aren't linked and the big one is defused, no reason for everyone to stay in the blast radius."
He sounded mildly annoyed.
"Yeah," Jack said, in sympathy.
Then he went quiet and watched Mac work. He didn't often get an up close and personal on the thing that made Mac one of the most sought after recruits in the intelligence game. It was something to behold for sure.
When they finally emerged, about three hours after either of them was accustomed to having had a cup of coffee, sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, they were more than a little relieved it was over.
There had been none of their typical post-mission elation this time though. Mac had cut the final wire, said, "We're clear," and pulled the logic box off the device with a small satisfied smile.
Jack had just replied with a nod, hopped up out of the crawlspace, and offered Mac a hand up because he knew the guy had to be stiff from crouching down next to that bomb all night. "Nice work," he offered and then they headed out of the house to find everyone.
Mac almost froze at seeing the size of the crowd. First, because it hit him hard just how many people had put their faith in his ability to keep them all alive, and second, because he hated, repeat hated, being the center of attention.
Jack startled him when he took the logic box from him and started doing a classic Dalton Victory Dance, but he felt immediate relief when he realized it was Jack letting him fade into the background a little. Jack never seemed to mind all eyes on him. Except that time with the frost bite. Although Mac was convinced that was only because Riley had been there.
When Mac and Charlie shared a brief embrace, both thinking that this was altogether too similar to how they'd gotten to know each other, Charlie had said quietly, "We ever just gonna get together and have a beer, maybe talk about old times, instead of reliving 'em?"
"Maybe," Mac laughed, but he only sort of half felt it. It seemed like the only way he ever saw anyone anymore was in crisis. Charlie, Frankie, hell even Nikki, who he still couldn't believe hadn't called him after that night in the hotel before they brought down Thornton. Everybody.
Well, everybody except Jack.
Crisis on top of a bomb, laid up in Medical recovering from whatever mission had most recently decided to compete with Cairo, or out on Mac's back deck with a couple of beers just bullshitting about football or something; nothing much changed for them. Not since Jack had re-upped to keep watching his back anyway.
As Mac moved through the crowd of people, all elated to be alive, and all wanting to both thank and congratulate him, despite the fact that most of them knew he hated that kind of thing, he let himself remember what it was like that first time. The first time he knew someone he'd trusted and cared about didn't just leave.
They'd gotten up, like they always did. Went out a run, because it was just such a habit at that point, skipping it felt like forgetting to eat or breath, showered and changed, then grabbed breakfast at the mess. Jack had stuck out his hand and after hesitating a second Mac shook it.
Jack noticed the way the kid was sort of avoiding his eye. "Don't worry, kid," Jack said in the half teasing tone he'd learned worked best when he wanted to actually say something serious. "They'll send you somebody good. He won't be as good as me, but he'll getcha home in one piece."
Mac nodded, then managed to look Jack in the eye. "I'll be fine. Good luck, Dalton."
Then he gave a little nod, and just turned and headed in the opposite direction. "Hey, kid! Carl's Junior, where you goin'? Thought you'd wanna escort me to the airfield to be sure you're rid a me!"
More teasing felt like the only way to go.
"Sorry, Jack. Gotta go gear up for the day. Some of us still have a job to do! Enjoy civilian life, old man!"
He turned a little then and flashed Jack his best cocky grin before he disappeared around the nearest building. Jack watched him go, frowning just a little.
Mac had kept himself busy all morning. It was strange knowing he'd be going out that afternoon without Jack. This was his first real assignment away from his training unit, and much as he hated to admit it, much as the guy drove him nuts, Jack Dalton had wormed his way through Mac's armor-plated defenses.
He'd become a … friend wasn't the right word exactly, although he was … although he was more often like a good friend's annoying big brother who'd definitely dead-arm you, but would also beat the tar out of anybody else he caught doing it, and maybe let you borrow his bike if he was having a magnanimous day.
Mac wouldn't have exactly called them close at that point, but it was the only connection other than Boze (Penny currently wasn't speaking to him because she was upset he'd joined the Army) who was currently on the right side of the dirt, to borrow a distinctly Jack Dalton phrase.
Much as Mac had been unprepared for anything resembling the sort of awkward long drawn out goodbye he suspected someone like Jack was capable of, he realized he'd been weirdly unprepared to say goodbye at all.
He snagged almost all of the paperclips out of the bowl on the duty officer's desk on his way by. Today was going to be a long day. And it wasn't even munch time; hell, he hadn't even gotten his assignment yet.
Mac was on probably his twentieth paperclip sculpture of the day, nearly lost in thought and responding to his dispatch almost by rote, when his overwatch climbed in to the truck he was waiting in.
He was almost annoyed with himself for the dopey grin he knew his face split into when he realized his new overwatch was his old overwatch. "Jack?" he asked incredulously. "I thought you went home."
"Well, almost did … It's a funny thing …There I was, boarding my transport, just fifteen hours between me and the great state of Texas, and then it hits me: that poor little bomb nerd with the silly hamburger name ain't gonna make it two days in the sandbox without me watching his back."
Mac's mouth dropped open just a little when Jack revealed the conditions of his reenlistment. Then he felt it start working as he tried to think of something adequate to say. Jack gave him a little smile and a head shake and went on, reverting to the tone that always lightened the kid up. "And before you go gettin' big-headed, I didn't do it for you, I did it for my country. I got a sneaky suspicion you're a little too valuable to Uncle Sam to lose just yet."
Mac swallowed. He came back. Well, there was a first time for everything, he supposed. Maybe Jack Dalton represented a change in his luck. He managed a smile and an almost casual, "Well, thanks, man."
0-0-0
Jack put a hand on his shoulder in the middle of the command center (also known as the bottom of his driveway) and gave Mac a questioning look, just the one Mac knew meant he was checking in to see if he was really okay or if he needed anything, up to and including Jack to do something loud and dumb to buy him some space from the rest of the team.
Mac reflected that despite the close shaves the two of them had since that day, it had been a change. Not in his luck maybe, which seemed determined to be bad an undue proportion of the time; but certainly in his circumstances.
His whole family had left him, either involuntarily or otherwise, Pena had died. Mac and his old unit had gone their separate ways, exchanging the occasional phone call or holiday card. And Bozer was his best friend, for sure, absolutely like a brother, but there'd been times where Mac was almost positive he was going to have a falling out with Boze that he couldn't repair.
But with Jack … no matter how bad things had ever gotten between them … and they'd been pretty damned bad a couple of times, like after Lake Cuomo when the stubborn Jackass wouldn't stop blaming himself for what happened and had climbed into a bottle of bourbon for weeks … They always seemed to find a way back, a way to fix things, a way to understand each other.
When he was talking to Charlie, Jack called out to him and he turned and trotted over. Jack had this intense look of concentration that he only ever got when he was tired or hurt and had thought of something important and he was afraid he wouldn't remember it later.
"I didn't want to break your concentration while you were in the middle of saving our lives or anything, but when I was rounding up mirrors, I realized something."
Jack passed him the watch part and encouraged him to look at the number. Mac did, frowning. Jack could see him almost getting there on his own, his ginormous brain ticking away at a million miles an hour, almost lighting on why this was significant, but kind of too tired and spun to quite get there. Jack handed him the dossier that Mac's father had ostensibly left on Christmas Eve. "Okay? Now, look at the numbers on the tattoo on his arm."
Mac's eyes went wide, with long-awaited realization, and the strange dropping sensation in his stomach that reminded him of that moment you get to the top of the hill on the roller-coaster and you know it's supposed to be fun, but as your car crests the summit you realize you've made a terrible mistake. He decided to focus on the first feeling.
"You're right! The last six digits match the tattoo on his arm."
"You remember what you said about coincidences?" Jack asked, a little pleased with himself that he remembered it, in all honesty.
Mac nodded slowly. "From a statistical perspective, they are inevitable."
Jack didn't know what to make of Mac's expression right then, only that he'd continue to be there for the kid, just like he always was, no matter what. "I'm telling you, man, this is no coincidence."
Jack paused.
"He's trying to send you a message."
Mac had a moment where the idea was both thrilling and terrifying. Then he just gave Jack a little half smile. "We'll figure it out, pal." He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Matty's gonna have us debriefing this until New Year's. And I'm starving."
Jack grinned. Mac needed to change the subject. Jack was happy to accommodate that. Especially since he was doing so with food. "Alright, kid. You're the boss … Hey, Matty!" Jack called out. "We're gettin' some chow then we'll meet y'all in the War Room."
She gave them both another fond smile and a nod. "Gotta feed my two favorite people." She paused and gave them a harder, more speculative look that usually meant trouble. "So long as they bring take-out for the rest of the team."
"Yes, ma'am," they answered together.
Then they looked at each other again. Mac laughed softly. "What is it, bud?"
"Let's get out of here before Matty comes up with a real order or we find anything else wired to blow up. I need a damned break."
Jack's nod and expression were both knowing, but Mac thought, it was a comfortable sort of knowing, the kind he appreciated rather than retreated from. "Whatever you need, kid."
Mac knew he meant it. Really meant it. And not just about ghosting to avoid the noise of wrapping up the scene for a little while.
"Well, thanks, man."
Some days it seemed like so much changed Mac could make himself dizzy trying to keep up. Today reminded him that there was always a point he could come back to, and he didn't have to worry about it just disappearing. Hell, Jack had made it very clear that he couldn't get rid of him if he tried.
And Mac had stopped trying a long time ago.
