Those We Gather Close
By: Ridley
A/N: As always, sorry this story is a little slow in coming. The tags to the episodes keep interrupting me! I have two stories I would really like to do over the summer hiatus after this one is finished or maybe in the midst. One is in the Between Brother's universe, Fear is a Liar, and one I want to do as sort of a tag to the Season Finale, but that promises to be a multi-chapter. I would love to post something every Friday to keep us entertained during hiatus! Keep your fingers crossed. As always, huge kudos to those who consistently review and send me messages. You do inspire me to keep writing. And to Mary, who is such the amazing cheerleader and amazing hurt/comfort connoisseur. She put a lot of work into this chapter!
RcJ
Mac awoke with a start, the sensation of not quite knowing where he was setting off a charge of momentary panic. His heart hammered against his sternum, sending adrenaline through his still slightly sluggish limbs as he gave a frantic look around. The sound of rain pounding on the roof above him had him searching out the closest window where he was met with the scenes of a dreary dawn. One would think his body would have been somewhat accustomed to the feeling of foreignness considering he found himself in locations all over the world on a regular basis, but he didn't typically sleep in a car, or better yet a surveillance van.
"About time you woke up, sleeping beauty." Jack appeared as if on cue, climbing into the van, quickly sliding the door closed to keep out the rain that was being blown sideways by the gale. Mac experienced a wave of relief as his partner shook his head much like one of the dogs from the ranch might do after a dip in the lake. He gave Mac a small smirk. "Maybe I should take that last part back. You're looking pretty rough, kid."
"Where were you?" Mac winced at the almost child-like quality of the question, his sleep-roughened voice not helping. He pushed himself to sitting, running a hand over his hair which he knew was probably sticking up akimbo in ten different directions if Jack's look was any indication. It was the one where Mac felt his partner was seeing him as if he were some tousled drowsy-eyed toddler and was usually followed by an annoying big brother move like Jack ruffling said hair. He cleared his throat. "Where are we?"
"We're in Louisville. I was checking out our meet-up location. Bozer's holding us a prime table in SuperChef's." Jack held out a cup, which Mac desperately hoped was coffee. "Apparently they have the country's best cup of Joe and the food smells amazing, so I hope the rest of our party shows soon or I may start without them."
"How did we get ahead of them?" Mac took the coffee, looking blearily at his watch, while attempting to work out a kink between his shoulder blades.
"I'm guessing we made good time because someone kept the stops for Big Gulps and bathroom breaks to a minimum." Jack gingerly sat in the swiveling chair closest to Mac, sliding out of his jacket and draping it over the back to dry. Mac didn't miss the way his partner still guarded his ribs, and the slight intake of breath he didn't quite mask. Jack's face was pale beneath the two days scruff, the bruises and cuts standing out more prominent but he looked much better than yesterday.
"It's not a road trip, Jack," Mac snapped, giving up his attempts at working out the knots in his muscles. He knew his irritation was born more of frustration and worry than any anger with his partner. It seemed the stormy weather outside had been customized to suit his current mood, and for once he was glad not to be in sunny LA.
"Somebody most definitely didn't get their nap out." Jack leaned forward, studying Mac. "You having more bad dreams about Treaty?"
"No." As bad as the nightmares about his horse had been, the ones about Cairo were worse. He wasn't about to dump those on his partner's shoulders. Sometimes it was much easier to lash out at the person you were afraid for than to show any other weakness. "We're on a time line if you haven't forgotten, Jack, and if you have then being informed that the CID show up at Phoenix last night should be a poignant reminder."
"Trust me, kiddo. I haven't forgotten that the proverbial hourglass is counting down." Jack ran a hand over his bearded face, leaning back in his chair although his assessing stare stayed on Mac. "I know Matty's call last night put a little more pressure on us, bud, but you freaking out isn't going to help things. The Army boys were just there to talk. If they'd had enough evidence for an indictment or been planning to arrest me, things would have gone down differently."
"I'm not freaking out." Mac had to be careful not to squeeze the Styrofoam cup he was holding between his hands as Jack talked so calmly about the intentions of the CID. He took a quick drink of the coffee, appreciating the fact Jack had taken the time to doctor it just the way Mac liked it. Sure Matty's revelation that she'd been visited by the Army's criminal investigation team had sent a surge of fear sweeping through him, but he was handling it- compartmentalizing, just like always. He met Jack's all-too knowing gaze with a tired one of his own. "It's just that the fact we're fifteen hours into Briar's timeline and travelling across the country with a group of ghost busters instead of making any real headway is not exactly how I wanted things to go."
"I was hoping after Riley's intel you'd feel better about working with the Winchesters." Jack tilted his head, gesturing to the computer screen on the console behind Mac as if Riley were still somehow present even though the monitor was dark and had been for hours. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and Mac wondered if he'd remembered to take his pain medicine.
Mac couldn't stop the humorless laugh that escaped him at Jack's expectation. "And exactly what about learning both Sam and Dean Winchester were at different points in time on the FBI's most wanted list should I find comforting, man? Or maybe you think the fact that they're now both 'legally' dead and don't even exist in the eyes of the law any more should bolster my confidence in their abilities to help us?"
Jack gave a sigh, leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. "I was talking about the fact that Riley used the bits and pieces you picked up on in our lengthy discussion back in Tennessee to discover more about the people we're trusting. I was hoping it might have convinced you that The Brotherhood is not a bunch of loons, or a cult, a theory I'm glad you kept to yourself."
Mac suddenly found the lid to his coffee cup interesting. He'd given Riley the details Dean and Sam had inadvertently dropped in hopes that she might offer them more insight. She didn't disappoint, easily finding the doctor Sam had mentioned in passing, as he was as renowned as Sam had assured. Dr. Mackland Ames was also the adopted father of Caleb Reaves, award-winning architect. It made sense considering Dean's mention about his 'knight' friend building bridges, but how a physician and an accomplished engineer had become involved in such a group was still a mystery. Then there was Sam Winchester himself. He'd gone to Stanford with a full ride, was currently top in his class at NYU. Mac wasn't sure if finding out more about these men lent credibility to The Brotherhood or gave more reason to be cautious around them because it was proof that intelligent, well-respected men were indeed vulnerable to falling under some sort of mass hysteria. If nothing else, it made Mac even more hesitant about their temporary alliance.
"I mean you heard Matty as well as I did, brother," Jack continued, searching Mac's gaze. "This Ames fella is some kind of legend in the field of neurology. And he consults with the FBI, dude. You can't just sweep that under the rug. The current director calls him a valuable resource. Riley even recognized him as one of the men who visited her and Elwood back in the day."
"He's prized at the FBI as a psychic on kidnapping cases." Mac raised a brow, meeting Jack's determined gaze. "Since when do you buy into palm readers and fortune tellers?"
"I don't." Jack ran a hand down his mouth, letting out a long breath. "But I'm not ruling out that there are things in this world I don't understand. Hell, until I met you, I didn't believe a man could use gum and aluminum foil to pull off a freaking miracle. Half the time you're an enigma wrapped in a mystery. But you've made me a believer, kiddo. You make the impossible, possible." The words lacked their usual good natured humor but were said in such earnestness it had Mac breaking eye contact once more.
"What I use is science, Jack. Pure and simple. No magic or trickery. You're talking about a man who claims to be able to tap into psychometry." Mac thought psychology was a soft science teetering on guesswork, there was no way he could acknowledge the idea that a person could gain vital information from merely touching an object and 'feeling' the impressions it left. "Johns Hopkins graduate or not, I'm not so sure he isn't a fraud or at least delusional. Didn't Matty say he'd been injured in a horrible car accident at some point? Perhaps that damaged his brain and he's still suffering severe side effects."
"Or maybe it gave him some kind of super power?" Jack offered, seriously. "Like Daredevil or Spawn."
"Just the fact you are now comparing these men with comic book heroes has me seriously questioning whether I should have had Sam ask Dr. Ames to meet us here to check out your head. They said he was close by." Proclaimed psychic or not, the man was still a trusted member of the medical community and had saved countless lives, of that there was no dispute. "The next thing I know you'll be likening them to the X-men or the Avengers. Maybe Dean can control the elements, or Caleb can move things with his mind."
"I'm not going to lie and say that wouldn't be cool as hell but I'm guessing these guys are just good men trying to do the right thing. Take that Pastor, the one Dean mentioned." Jack snapped his fingers, trying to summon the name he'd forgotten.
"James Murphy," Mac supplied begrudgingly, recalling more of Riley's intel. Her research had painted the man as a paragon of righteousness and goodwill.
"Right." Jack nodded, a tiny bit of Bozer's earlier excitement shining in the older man's eyes. "He was a devout man of God. Ran a little parish in Kentucky of all places, beloved by his congregation. Come on, brother, he rescued race horses that were headed to the glue factory." Jack gave a sheepish smile. "This Pastor Jim sounds like a lot like our Nana Beth. Speaking of Beth, you know she'd be the first to tell you that there are some things that we mere humans can't wrap our minds around. She'd tell you that God works in mysterious ways and sometimes we just have to have faith. That's all I'm asking."
"I have faith, Jack. In science. In things I can prove." Mac also had faith in a select few people, the man sitting across from him first and foremost.
"Yet, you believe in Santa Clause." Jack lifted a brow, an amused smile twitching at his mouth.
"Because he can't be disproved." Mac realized his misstep as soon as he made it. He hated playing chess with Jack for a reason. The man never missed a move.
"Aha." Jack slapped a hand on this jean clad leg. "You also can't disprove what The Brotherhood does, dude. Maybe there are things that go bump in the night that we might never have encountered." He shrugged, a quick flash of pain crossing his face at the movement.
Mac frowned. "I have enough of a hard time keeping a lid on all the bad things we have encountered, Jack. As if terrorists, traitors and rogue government agents aren't enough to keep my nightmares going, now you want to add in ghosts and goblins to the mix?" It was meant to come out in a teasing voice but it hit closer to home than Mac intended it to if the change in Jack's demeanor was a good indicator.
"The last thing I want to do is to give your big old brain more to process, bud." Jack's face turned serious and Mac feared that he'd shown his hand. He was certain his best friend had turned the tables once again, focusing on Mac's welfare when he should have been concerned for his own, as Jack's gaze softened, his tone gentling to 'Angus whisperer'. "You have enough on your plate, which is why I'm willing to team up with just about anyone to get this mess cleared up and get back to finding your dad."
"I'm not worried about James." Mac was focused on keeping his own tone neutral, working hard to keep the intense reaction from racing over his face. The coffee cup in his hand was the least of his worries and bore the brunt of his response, crushed by the onslaught of sudden emotion.
"Whoa now." Jack reached forward as Mac hissed in pain when the hot coffee sloshed over his hand and splattered to the floor of the van, along with the lid of the cup. "And here I was worried about Bozer making a mess."
The words were light, but Mac could tell from the way Jack gripped his wrist that he was as surprised as Mac by the mishap, although for an entirely different reason.
"I'm sorry." Mac muttered, uncurling the hand Jack held to let the remains of the Styrofoam slip to the floor. He skin was slightly red, but the pain was secondary to the ache pounding beneath his ribs.
"Are you hurt?"
"No." Mac gently pried his hand from Jack's, meeting his partner's gaze. He forced a half smile, he hoped hid the slight tremble in his voice. "They may have the best cup of Joe, but thankfully it was not the hottest."
"Well, for once and all that girly creamer and flavoring you liked probably spared you a second degree burn." Jack matched Mac's grin with one of his own. It looked as fake as Mac's felt. "No suing the establishment over this little accident. " Jack grabbed a stack of napkins that had been left over from Bozer and Dean's barbecue feast the night before and knelt to pressed half of them into the spots on the carpet. He handed the rest to Mac.
"I'm sorry," Mac said again, knowing he must have sounded as miserable as he felt when Jack shot him a frown. He wiped the last of the coffee from his hand and wrist, trying to get a grip.
"Dude, it's just a cup of coffee." Jack rocked back on his heels, his gaze narrowing. "I didn't mean to poke a sore spot by mentioning your dad…"
"Jack, my father is the last thing on my mind at the moment." Mac tossed the remains of the coffee cup and the soiled napkins to the trash can in the corner, his tone sharper than he intended it to be. It wasn't exactly true. Mac had thought of his father, but not in the way Jack believed. Mac was more frustrated that he'd spent almost a year searching for the man who abandoned him, only to now be facing losing the man who'd become a brother, who'd never once turned his back on him no matter what situation they faced.
"Distraction can be a good thing I suppose." Jack's grin faltered a bit. He held a hand protectively around his ribs as he stood.
"If it were you dragging me to the beach or out for a hike in one of the canyons, I might agree, but being in a situation where your fate hangs in the balance isn't exactly a welcomed diversion." Mac stood as well, needing to put some distance between them, although it was a tall order in the small space that could supposedly hold an entire SWAT team. He raked hands through his hair, wishing he had a way to go for a run. Even a hot shower would have been a welcomed reprieve from close quarters and the dread of what may lay in store for them during the rest of the day.
"It's not like our lives aren't at risk every job, brother. This is really nothing new." Jack moved back to his seat, his eyes following Mac's pacing.
"Only it is." Mac insisted with a tired sigh, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. There was no precedent for going after a legendary sword with a group of supernatural hunters, all while trying to find a journal that may or may not have belonged to a long dead war hero.
"Well there is the root beer waffle float Winchester was going on and on about." Jack stood with a slight wince, jerking his head towards the van door, grinning. "I can't say I've ever tried one of those, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Do you think it comes in a frosty mug?"
Mac rolled his eyes, unable to resist the chuckle at Jack's childlike exuberance. "The possibility of a new food is your only concern?"
"Well, I'd admit I'm hyped about meeting a living, breathing version of Harry Potter but I'm afraid it might send my anti-magic partner right over the edge." Jack winked at Mac. "Besides, right now my stomach is foremost in my mind."
"When isn't your stomach in charge? I think you and Dean Winchester have that in common." Mac took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. "That and your mutual love of destructive weapons."
Jack ignored the comment, making his way towards the door. "Now are you coming or not?"
Mac didn't see as how he had much choice in the matter. Jack opened the van to the steady downpour and Mac welcomed the dour elements as portend for their meeting. He might be hesitant to join up with The Brotherhood and undertake whatever journey they had in mind, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack go alone.
RcJ
The rootbeer float did not come in a glass as Jack suspected, but was merely a waffle with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and root beer infused maple syrup. The former Delta agent hadn't been disappointed though because it was served with a side of hash browns and candied bacon, quite possibly topping his grandmother's blueberry pancakes as his new breakfast favorite. He'd eaten until he was almost sick, not willing to let Dean outdo him, and was glad they'd had to walk a ways from the parking garage to the building that housed the PR firm where they were meeting Winchester's contact.
"So, it's probably better if you don't call Josh, Harry Potter," Dean was saying, having stopped by Jack. He gestured to the downtown high rise that sat on the corner of the parallel street, across the busy intersection from them. "In fact, I wouldn't mention the fact he is any sort of witch at all. He prefers 'crafter' in our circle and tends to get his hackles up if someone suggests otherwise, especially in his place of business."
"Maybe that's because he knows there's no such thing as witches." Mac spoke up, still skeptical about this meeting leading to any useful answers. "I mean outside movies and Broadway musicals. There could also be the issue that if any of his wealthy clients were to overhear they might think he was, you know, insane."
"No," Dean shook his head, not seeming to have taken offence at Jack's partner's tendency to sound snarky and intellectually superior. Jack got the impression the younger Winchester could come across the same way and that maybe Dean had grown a thick skin. "Josh is from a long line of witches and knows better than anyone that they exist." He grinned at Mac. "He's just a pompous ass."
"Who happens to be our Advisor and close friend," Sam interjected curtly, bumping his brother. He narrowed his gaze. "I thought we were going to focus on the logistics of tracking down the sword and not so much the other side of our business as it tends to make people uncomfortable."
Jack had wondered why their breakfast conversation had been somewhat stilted, and limited to him and Dean mostly discussing their cars and baseball while the others interjected now and again. He wondered if the Guardian had been handed down a list of 'safe topics' for chit chat as they waited for the early morning appointment they had been granted with Joshua Sawyer.
"Gotcha." Dean looked pointedly at Mac, who was watching the traffic whip past them. Louisville was not LA, but it was still bustling. Jack was grateful the rain had stopped as they waited for the crosswalk sign to change that would allow them to reach the office building. A cold wind made him shiver, his ribs protesting loudly against the sudden movement.
"Sorry, James Blonde," Winchester continued. "I know all of this is a little hard to swallow for a Brainiac like yourself. Sam's research said you were like some kind of kid genius, even smarter than him, not to mention having a hell of service record." Dean's gaze shifted briefly to the traffic light in front of them before going back to Mac. "Thanks for that by the way." He nodded to include Jack. "Both of you. My dad was a marine."
"Dean." Sam cleared his throat, sending a searching look to Reaves.
"What?" Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging. "You don't think they've found out everything they could about us? They're spies, Sam. I'm guessing they know the names of the last two women I slept with and your favorite choice of porn."
"I don't have a favorite choice of porn." Sam seethed through clenched teeth.
"He's right, you know," Jack interrupted hoping to head off an argument that might cause them to miss out on the 'walk' opportunity. Mac was biting at the bit enough as it was, being late for their meeting with a man who could possibly shed some light on their next lead was not something Jack wanted to add to the kid's worry. "About the research part, not the whole us knowing your brother's sex life and your misfortunate lack of one." He grinned when Sam rolled his eyes in a very 'Mac-like' manner. "We did find the arrest records-nice mug shots by the way."
"So you understand those wanted men were killed while in custody of an FBI agent." Caleb spoke up for the first time in a while, his gaze pointedly meeting Jack's.
"We do." Jack nodded, understanding the other man's desire to keep that bit of false news alive and well in the system. "Just like we know you're some fancy architect and avant-garde artist who came from rough beginnings. It's why Bozer was staring at you with the same glow in his eye as your buddy Dean had for that honking big steak he had on his plate."
"Shut up, Jack." Bozer said, his face reflecting his embarrassment at being outed as a Caleb Reaves fan. He shrugged one shoulder as Caleb favored him with a raised brow.
"You like my work?"
"So I might have seen your one and only show in LA. I got the tickets as part of a contest I won for one of my short films." Bozer's eyes twinkled. "Your paintings were amazing, man. The dragons were fierce. I had nightmares about them."
"You should see one in person." Caleb smiled, shooting Dean a look.
"And on that note," Sam cleared his throat, gesturing to the sign that had just changed to give them the right of way. "We should walk."
"Your buddy Joshua not take tardiness well either?" Jack asked as they hurried across ahead of the impatient traffic.
"He wouldn't if we had an actual appointment." Dean called over his shoulder. "Which he doesn't tend to give us."
"With Josh, we've learned the element of surprise works best." Caleb added as they made it to the other side. "He tends to like to keep clear boundaries between his so called 'normal life' and his alter ego on the Triad."
"See my earlier point about his clientele," Mac muttered, looking only slightly contrite when Jack arched an eyebrow.
"So he's like a public relations guru. Does he have any favorite clients?" Jack asked curiously, keeping an arm pressed around his middle at their fast pace.
"Halley Berry." Sam quickly answered, a gleam in his dark eyes.
"Halley Berry's nice, but does he happen to know my man, Bruce Willis?"
"Josh is more into helping business moguls and prominent politicians keep their images squeaky clean." Dean held the door to the building open as the others walked through, his eyes lingering for a moment on Jack. "As our friend Bobby is fond of saying, he could sale space heaters to a man set adrift on a floating hunk of ice in the middle of the Arctic Ocean."
"So if he's so good at bull shitting, how do we know he's going to feed us good intel?" Jack asked as he was the last through the entrance. He hung back for Dean to catch up.
"Because when it comes to Brotherhood business, Josh isn't interested in blowing smoke up anyone's ass."
"Least of all, Deuce." Caleb reached out and punched the elevator up button. Jack didn't miss the amused grin he exchanged with Sam. "Calling the Guardian on all his crap is pretty much the bulk of an Advisor's position. Josh lives to rain on Deuce's parades."
"I don't recall reading about an advisory position in our files on your organization." Mac frowned.
""Every team needs a secret weapon, kid." Dean smirked as they climbed on the elevator. "Josh likes to believe he's ours."
"And their roles tend to be highly suspect in some generations due in part to poor choices by some past members." Sam cleared his throat, when Jack gave him a sidelong glance. "Not Joshua, of course," he added with a forced smile that did nothing to relieve Jack's concern. "He's an excellent Advisor."
"Says his good buddy and pal," Dean snorted, punching the number seven button three times as if by his sheer persistence he could make the cart move faster. "Sammy's a suckup."
Jack glanced at Caleb who raised his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm just the guy's brother."
"Step-brother," Dean corrected, his gaze briefly resting on Bozer who still had a look of childish excitement and awe on his face but had kept quiet so far.
"Blood ties or not, me being the younger, better looking, by far favored son hasn't exactly helped our relationship. He's totally jealous of me. Rightfully so." Caleb ran a hand through his dark hair, his mouth twitching. "Even his wife likes me better."
"And your boy Joshua's the pompous one of the bunch?" Jack arched a brow, to which Dean only sighed, punching the number seven again.
"I know with Damien's ego taking up all the room in here, it's a stretch, but in The Brotherhood we embrace the old saying seeing is believing."
"That's actually a motto I could get behind," Mac quipped, crossing his arms over his chest.
When the elevator finally opened directly into the foyer of the Public Relations firm, Jack gave a low whistle at the opulent décor and over the top grandeur that greeted them. Everything screamed high dollar clientele and Jack could understand the points Mac had been making about this Sawyer not wanting to seem peculiar to the upper crusts to which he so obviously catered.
"Don't be too impressed. Joshua's mom has class for days," Dean explained, nodding to the tasteful surroundings as he approached a glass door with gold lettering. "His guy Friday, Drew, is also as gay as a man purse full of glitter and unicorns. His flair for interior design is matched only by his lack of discretion when it comes to his appreciation for anyone with a Y chromosome." He cut his gaze to Mac, giving a grin. "Fair warning, JB, he loves blonds."
Jack wasn't sure if watching his partner be hit on by Joshua Sawyer's assistant was the most amusing thing he'd witnessed that day or if it was literally observing every ounce of color drain from Sawyer's face only to be replaced with a hue he'd not seen on a human which Jack could only describe as puce as Dean Winchester introduced them.
"Is this some kind of bizarre prank?" Joshua looked around his grand office, his hand self-consciously going to the Hermes tie he was wearing with what Jack suspected might have been a Kiton suit. He was aware of the designer only because he'd once worn one undercover for a mission and Matty had threatened him within an inch of his life to not get blood stains on it because it was going back to Neiman Marcus in pristine condition or the ten grand plus change was coming out of Jack's next paycheck. "Are you getting revenge for my not backing your ridiculous idea to have a hoe down and handout commemorative brass knuckles and that hideous homebrewed beer you and Caleb have been making on the one year anniversary of your Triad's coronation?"
"Despite the fact I'm still pissed at your thumbs down on the party, this is a legit visit, Josh." Dean waved a hand to encompass Jack and Mac, Bozer too. "This is Agent Jack Dalton and his partner Angus MacGyver. The two secret spies I told you about months ago."
"The ones who you claimed to have assisted in a government operation across the border in Mexico." If possible, Sawyers face colored more. Jack could see the guy was probably a few years older than Reaves, but more polished. He had the same GQ looks as his step-brother without any of the 'kick ass' vibe, like CEO material or possibly a contestant on The Bachelor. "I thought you were joking about that!" Sawyer bit out, as he waved a hand at Winchester. "That possibly you and Caleb were engaged in some sort of childish game to see who could come up with the worst possible case scenario to cast oneself in so to make my life even more miserable, like when you create those ridiculous Instagram stories of 'hunts gone bad'."
"So just to be clear, if that had been a game, then Sam and Deuce aiding government agents would have so trumped my theoretically attending that whole witch's council thing last month as Sida's date, the one you told me not to go to, right?" Caleb raised his hand, looking completely innocent.
"NO!" Joshua practically shouted. "They both would have been equally unthinkable, complete derelictions of duty, not to mention putting the integrity of The Brotherhood at risk."
"Good thing mine was at least hypothetical." Caleb jerked his thumb towards Jack and Mac. "Those two are all on Deuce. You know he's always had a Roger Moore complex."
"Actually my favorite Bond is Daniel Craig, and Sam was the one to figure out MacGyver's magic taillight." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. "I just followed the car to the cartel guy's house and waited for Dalton's tactical team to arrive."
"And the grenade launcher?" Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as if he were losing his battle to stay calm. "Was that real, too?"
All eyes went to Jack and he felt the sudden urge to claim some kind of defense. "The kid saved my boy's life from a bloodthirsty drug lord who thought waterboarding was a fun conversation starter. I might have given him the nuclear codes if I had that kind of clearance and he'd asked for them."
Joshua shook his head at Jack and turned his gaze on Dean once more. "I can almost understand you falling into a government operation by accident considering yours and Samuel's penchant for trouble, rescuing Agent MacGyver falls somewhat in our sworn duty to protect the innocent from all forms of evil, but I have no idea what would possess you bring these government agents to my office on a workday?" His eyes narrowed. "The first time around you claimed to have maintained some semblance of cover, but considering you've breeched my inner sanctum and used my actual name, am I to assume you have revealed all our secrets? Perhaps taken them on a tour of Jim's farm, welcomed them into the Tomb?"
Joshua's voice had edge up in volume with each ground word and Jack was quite sure he might have hit shouting level if not for the quick knock at his door which heralded Drew bearing a tray of coffee and sparkling water. Sam took the distraction as an opportunity to pull their irate friend aside, speaking in hushed tones as Drew served drinks and batted his lashes at Mac.
"I'm starting to get the whole Advisor thing," Bozer said under his breath as he sipped at his Evian. "This Josh is Matty, only with more lung capacity and a thicker Thesaurus."
Jack snorted. "And a better wardrobe."
"I pick out his clothes." Drew spoke up, startling Jack. He'd thought the man had left, but found him still standing by Mac, his smile wolfish. "His wife, Carolyn, is a dear, but is a bit frumpish. Think mild mannered librarian meets geek-chic. She likes Target and consignment stores."
Jack's mouth twitched and he had to hide a laugh behind a cough, when Drew looked Mac up and down, obviously appraising more than his apparel. "I appreciate a man in a leather jacket as much as anyone, but I bet I could work wonders for your wardrobe, cowboy. I freelance as a personal shopper on the side."
"That will be enough moonlighting, Drew." Joshua's worn voice interrupted any reply Mac might have stammered out much to Jack's displeasure. Watching his partner politely turn down the offer to let Drew play in his closet might have been so much fun. "Could you please cancel my nine o'clock this morning and close the door on your way out."
Drew shrugged, obviously nonplussed by his boss's reprimand. "Stop by my desk on your way out, and I'll get your sizes." He winked at Mac, lowering his voice. "I can probably guess your measurements but it's always more fun to pull out my tape."
"You'll have to forgive Drew's exuberance, as well as my lack of manners." Joshua walked away from Sam, extending his hand to first, Jack and then Mac. He turned to Bozer last. "I'm not sure I caught your name."
"I'm Bozer." Bozer shook Sawyer's hand, pointing a thumb in Mac's and Jack's direction. "I'm their behind the scenes, guy."
"Ah." Joshua actually smiled, though Jack easily detected the wariness in his blue gaze. "That I can understand completely. You probably work three times as hard and receive none of the glory."
"Something like that." Bozer shot Jack a deep frown before refocusing on Sawyer. "I came to the secret agent thing a little late in the game. I don't even get to carry a gun."
"That's okay, Bozer," Dean interrupted, crossing his arms. "Josh didn't get his initiation into our club until he was an ol'timer. Most of us get our rings at eighteen, you were what…" Dean tilted his head as if he couldn't quite remember, raising a brow in mock question. "Mid-twenties?"
"I was about to ask how I could possibly be any assistance in this matter, but if you'd rather discuss past grievances perhaps you could just go and…"
"We would really like you to offer your assistance, Sawyer." Jack took a step towards the PR guru, reclaiming his attention from the eldest Winchester. He got the impression The Guardian was about to open a can of worms that might cost them more precious time. As interesting as The Brotherhood dynamic was turning out to be, Jack could feel his best friend's patience wearing thin and if he was honest with himself he still didn't feel one hundred percent. He'd promised the kid this was going to work out and he wasn't about to let Mac down. "Anything you might do would be greatly appreciated."
"That's just the thing, Agent Dalton. Even after Sam's quick debriefing, I'm at a loss as to how The Brotherhood could possibly aid in this endeavor." His blue eyes hardened as he rubbed a finger over his brow. "In fact, I find it quite likely that we would be the ones paying for any help we might offer."
"You'll have to excuse Josh." Reaves inserted himself into the conversation, shifting his weight away from the desk he had leaned against so far. "His wife's expecting and he's been under a lot of stress at home. He's somehow gotten the impression he gets to call the shots on who we do and don't help."
"A hormonal Carolyn is the last of my concerns at this point," Joshua growled, shooting a narrow look in Reaves's direction. "Especially considering The Knight seems to have forgotten his place in protecting all that we hold sacred and I may be called upon to institute an entirely new Triad after the current one is sent to CIA prison on the outskirts of Siberia!"
"You told him about the CIA?" Dean snapped at his brother, face darkening.
"No one is going to prison, Dude." Jack stepped between Sawyer and Reaves who seemed quite likely to deck his step brother for the slam on his leadership abilities. Jack could empathize with the guy's plight of trying to keep a team safe and the bashing ones pride took when his judgment was called into question, but he couldn't let Caleb take his Advisor down a few notches, not when they needed him conscious. He looked at Joshua, suppressing the urge to brace an arm around his ribs when he felt a painful twinge. "Except for maybe me. That is if you and your buddies can't help. I know we really have no right to ask, but Dean thinks this could be a mutual pay off in the end."
Joshua sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "And why would The Guardian believe that? What exactly do you think our particular talents could actually bring to the table? Your partner's rescue, however fortuitous, was not in our usual scope of work. I dare say, on a typical day, The Brotherhood and your Phoenix Foundation would never cross paths."
"Yet, from our research it seems members of your organization have been in extremely powerful positions throughout modern history, even holding presidential office if I'm not mistaken?" Mac surprised Jack by backing him up. His partner came alongside, giving Joshua one of his challenging raised brows. "I'm not sure I quite believe the scope to which it appears your influence reaches, but I also can't deny that The Brotherhood seemingly has its fingers in several pies and that you all could be in a unique position to offer the insight we're needing."
"What insight might that be?"
"We need to find Patton's Sword." Dean was the one to answer, looking from his brother back to Sawyer. "Sammy's research linked its last whereabouts to a coven, a powerful witch called Dresden, so we figured you might be able to shed some light."
Joshua's gaze narrowed and he glared at Dean, stopping himself from wildly gesticulating by crossing his arms once more over his chest. "I supposed you revealed to these gentlemen why that might be the case?"
"Don't worry, Josh, they don't believe in witches or crafting." Dean waved a hand in Jack and Mac's direction. "The kid won't even discuss your alchemy theories so don't even try. Even if they did buy into your magical legacy, it's not like they're going to reinstate the Salem trials so I think your secret's safe with them."
Joshua sent another glower Dean's way before pinching the bridge of his nose with another heavy sigh. folded his arms over his chest. "How is finding this sword beneficial to us, let alone worth the risk you so flippantly seem to be taking?"
"We think it might help us find who killed Merrill," Sam answered, stopping whatever Sawyer was about to say cold.
"Turns out there was a reason we've hit a hell of a snag in tracking down the people who did it," Dean offered, absently twisting his ring. "It's definitely not looking like our run of the mill killers."
"Until Riley picked up all the chatter on the Dark Web about the journal, we were flying blind," Caleb added, having relaxed back against the desk. "The inquiries into its whereabouts is what put us on a collision course with these two."
"Wait," Bozer interrupted, bouncing. "You guys have a Riley, too?"
"Not important, Boze," Jack warned with a tired sigh. His headache was making a return appearance and he couldn't help noticing Mac was fidgeting more than usual. He expected his partner to call a quits on their tentative alliance at any moment.
"I'm guessing the particular journal they're needing is one that was taken from Merrill's house?" Josh looked from Dean to Caleb. "Along with the other items you discovered during your investigation?" He ran a hand though his hair. "This is exactly why I encouraged you to continue Pastor Jim's mission to collect the journals and objects of power in one central location and…"
"I'm not sure now is the time to open the floor to old business, Josh," Caleb sighed, his brow furrowed when his gaze briefly landed on Jack. "It's not like we're having one of your mandatory board meetings."
"The journal is the only thing that we need," Mac insisted emphatically, restlessly curling and uncurling his hands. "At least we hope it's the same journal. There's some confusion over that currently."
"Then you're most definitely barking up the wrong tree, Agent." Joshua gestured to Dean and Caleb. "I've been pushing them for months to put an end to this bleak matter with Merrill, but they've had no leads. Expecting them to produce the journal now is optimistic to say the least."
"Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence." Caleb shook his head.
"I'm only reiterating the trouble you two have had in bringing justice to our fellow hunter, a slight that will not go unnoticed by our contemporaries I can assure you."
"Sorry if we've left the potential PR time bomb ticking away, Josh," Dean snapped and Jack felt the tension in the room shift again. "But the trail wasn't exactly typical and we were dancing around a police investigation with all the great care you insist we take not to draw more attention to ourselves."
"But we think the Sword will lead us to the journal," Sam spoke up, hopefully. "Then ultimately to the men responsible for Merrill's death if it's truly their end game. It's a mutually beneficial endeavor for everyone. Surely you can see that."
"What I see is a potential for disaster." Joshua frowned at Jack and Mac. "I can empathize with your plight, but my first allegiance is to The Brotherhood. I can't-won't-do anything to risk the Triad."
"I can promise you that you're men aren't at risk from us. As far as I'm concerned, we're just getting a little assistance from some of my old cop buddies from Texas." Jack threw a grin in Dean's direction. "I gotta say they had me fooled, despite not exactly fitting the vice cop profile. Besides, this isn't exactly an official government mission. We're working mostly off the books ourselves."
"I'm not sure that should make me feel better about the situation, see my earlier note the Siberian prison." Joshua turned to Mac. "And you're willing to follow this trail extremely 'off book' because if the sword is where I believe it might be, you will be dealing with a much more 'traditional' witch than what you've encountered so far."
"Meaning what exactly? He won't be wearing a designer suit and tie?" Mac matched Joshua's stance, crossing his arms, eyes narrowed in skepticism.
"Will he have a magic wand?" Bozer piped up, having kept more quiet than Jack would have thought possible. "Because that would be really cool."
"She," Sawyer emphasized, "Will undoubtedly expect a payment for her time. That is if she even agrees to a meeting." His serious gaze went to Dean. "It could mean you will once more be beholden to a coven who has never fully embraced the treaty we've tried to forge over the last year."
"How about I promise not to let Damien hook up with her?" Dean smirked, though Jack could see it was a little forced. "Is that what you're worried about?"
"Considering she's my grandmother's contemporary, I'm not sure there is too much reason for concern in that arena." Jack didn't miss the look of disdain Sawyer shot his step brother, or the chuckle it heralded from Reaves. "She'll be more likely to want to exact some leverage from The Guardian and that could cause unrest with those who have aligned themselves with us."
"What if we explain to her that she could be in danger from the men looking for the sword," Sam moved to his brother's side, undoubtedly trying to be the voice of reason. "It's possible that if Mac's team was able to draw a connection to The Brotherhood that these others may do the same. They could follow the trail to Dresden and after what they were willing to do to Merrill, I don't think they're going to be polite in their inquiries."
"And if that doesn't work I could always explain to her that Patton's sword technically belongs to us seeing as 'what' it's made from and 'who' allegedly made it for him." All humor had vanished from Dean's face, leaving the serious air of the Guardian of The Brotherhood
Jack noticed Mac shot him a look at Winchester's veiled references to the sword's origins. He shrugged, hoping his best friend let the elusive comments slide, marking them up as just another facet they didn't need to explore and that it was frankly none of their business. Jack exhaled slowly, giving in to the urge to rub at his temple to ease some of the painful throbbing.
"If she gives it back," Winchester continued, his voice hardening. "I won't consider her keeping it as collusion against The Brotherhood or an act of aggression on her coven's part."
"This is exactly why I don't trust you to handle delicate matters with the diplomacy needed." Joshua's gaze zeroed in on Jack. "And a prime example as why he doesn't need access to anymore weapons of mass destruction."
"How about I offer to keep the kid in check," Jack wagered. He jerked a thumb towards Mac. "I've got plenty of experience in potentially explosive situations thanks to my partner's penchant for blowing things up left and right. I think I can keep a lid on this meet and greet. Self-control is practically my middle name."
"Somehow I find that hard to believe." Joshua's frown deepened, his look doubtful. "No offense, Agent Dalton, but you look much more the 'muscle' type and of course there is your penchant for handing out grenade launchers willy-nilly."
"He has your number, Jack," Bozer said under his breath, mumbling something about the truth hurting when Jack glared at him.
"I'd rather you and your associates steer clear of the situation entirely, although I'm sure any request for you to stand down completely would not be heeded. But surely you understand that the less our two worlds collide, the better." Joshua looked from Dean and Caleb to Jack once more, straightening. "Which is why I must ask that you wait outside while I make the arrangements needed to ensure this fool-hearty endeavor."
Jack didn't budge, instead moving his gaze to Dean. The Guardian didn't look pleased about the turn of events, but surprisingly he wasn't objecting to their dismissal. Jack remembered Bozer's suggestion that The Brotherhood's Advisor was a bit like Matty and decided that maybe Winchester was playing his cards close to his vest and knew exactly what battles to pick with his prickly friend. When he met Jack's gaze after sharing a glance with his brother and Reaves, he gave a nod.
"How about we catch up with you boys in the parking garage, Bourne? Maybe you need to check in with Money Penny." Dean inclined his head to Sawyer. "Josh will get us co-ordinates and we'll be on the road in no time flat."
"The sooner the better," Mac answered before Jack could. He gave a curt nod to Joshua and then motioned Bozer to precede him out the door before following their teammate.
Jack offered Sawyer a slight grin and a salute. "It's been a pleasure, Potter."
He could still hear the man's indignant sputtering when he closed the door and made his way into the outer office. Mac had slyly avoided Drew, he and Bozer all the way to the elevator even before Jack had cleared the exit. Both men were unusually solemn as they entered the cart and it wasn't until Mac had punched the button taken them to the lobby of the building that he turned his blue gaze on Jack.
"You're not seriously considering that we attend this meet up? With a witch? At a coven? What does that even look like by the way?"
"You come up with a new lead and forget to mention it, brother?" Jack understood they were working way beyond their scope of comfort, and considering the shenanigans they pulled on a regular basis that was saying a lot, but his gut was telling him they were on the right track. Jack casually leaned against the wall of the elevator, thankful to have a little support even if it was for just a short moment. He exhaled slowly, trying to stay focused and calm.
"No," Mac muttered, glumly. He shot an accusatory look to Bozer who had the good graces to slink slightly behind Jack as they exited the ground floor and made their way out of the building. "I just think this whole line on the sword is a huge waste of our resources. It's insane. We've burned through half of Briar's timeline with no solid lead to show for it." Mac sounded on edge, his tone tense. Jack knew from experience that it was easier to focus on anger then acknowledging the numbing fear that lay underneath it. He still couldn't quite understand how this whole thing had gone FUBAR in the blink of an eye. Just a couple of days ago he and Mac had been planning their trip to Texas.
Jack was grateful the street was not as crowded now, although he wasn't as happy about the return of the steady rain he no doubt had to thank for the cleared intersection. They crossed without waiting and he kept quiet, knowing that he didn't have any decent rebuttal for his partner's rant. Jack shared a glance with Bozer as Mac pulled ahead of them, power walking towards the mostly empty lot which held only their surveillance van and a few other sedans.
"I've not seen him this worked up in a while," Bozer admitted quietly, his face etched with genuine concern.
"I…" Jack started, intending to offer assurance to his other teammate only to have the revving of an engine and the squeal of tires to his right cut him off. It was ironic that Jack was about to promise Bozer he'd take care of Mac, because at that moment a black van rounded the corner, screeching to a stop directly in their path, cutting them off from his partner. Jack drew his gun just as the sliding doors opened and three men in tactical gear piled out, all armed with assault rifles. The driver was dressed in a suit, dark mirrored glasses hiding his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?" Jack snapped, stepping in front of Bozer as he pointed his weapon at who he assumed was one of Briar's rogue CIA cronies although he had no clue as to how they have found them. He was mindless of the guns he knew were trained on him, his eyes focused on his best friend who just now rounded the corner in the grip of one of the big Russians Jack was certain he had tangled with while he was confined in the CIA holding cell. His mind barely had time to compute that Briar had enlisted the enemy in his service before he registered Mac's distress. The kid's lip was cut, his chin smeared with blood and he was sporting a fresh red fist-sized mark across his cheek which promised to be a spectacular shade of purple all too soon. The kid would have one hell of a black eye. Mac looked dazed, blinking rapidly as he was practically drug off his feet.
"What is this?" Jack demanded, his tone promising to rain hell down if the answers didn't come quickly.
"You can call me Smith." The suit took a step towards Jack, a smug grin in place. "Mike Briar sends his regards and requests an update on your progress in your joint business venture. Consider this a friendly check in."
"Mike Briar can go fuck himself." Jack kept the gun trained on the front man, though he jerked his head to the goon holding Mac, his gut twisting when he heard his partner's muffled groan. "You boys now using federal prisoners of war to do your dirty work? That's low even for Briar."
"My team and I were actually transporting a high valued Russian target to a more secure location when a superior instructed that I drop in and check another operation." The suit removed his glasses, used the tail of his suit coat to clean them. He glanced over his shoulder at the Russian, who now had one beefy arm wrapped tightly around Mac's neck. "It's not my fault if somehow during transport the prisoner escaped and there was an unfortunate 'incident'."
"The only incident is going to be me putting a bullet in Boris's brain if he doesn't get his hands off the kid." Jack ground his teeth as the big Russian gave him a lascivious grin, leaning his lips close to Mac's ear. Whatever he said was whispered, but Jack could easily read his best friend's face, the kid paled, struggled fruitlessly against the monster of a man. Jack was amazed his tone remained neutral. He even managed to sound bored despite the fury that rolled over him when Mac's eyes locked with his, rare fear roiling through the blue gaze. "Tell him to let my partner go-now. Mac's particular about his jacket and blood and gray matter are a bitch to get out."
"Agent MacGyver will be released when I have the report Briar wants." Smith put his glasses back on, and Jack wanted to wipe the smug-assed grin from the rogues agent face.
"Fine. Have it your way." Jack gave a shrug, tightening his grip on the gun, every intention of putting a bullet through the man's sweet spot. "Mac can wash his damn hair and have the jacket cleaned."
"Hastiness on your part wouldn't end well for Mr. Bozer." Smith looked to where Bozer was standing, his hands held high as two of the tactical team had their rifles trained on him He pushed his glasses a little higher. "Briar believes MacGyver is pertinent to the success of your mutual endeavor, but said nothing about any other casualties. In fact, he worried a lab tech might slow your progress. He'll be dead before you can put our prisoner down."
"Jack," Mac's voice was pleading. Jack understood his partner's single worry was now for Bozer, his struggles renewed as he tried to free himself.
"Briar didn't say we couldn't hurt MacGyver," The lead operator cocked a brow when Jack seemed to hesitate, showing a perfect line of white teeth in a cold smile. "Only not to kill him."
Boris drove home the point by tightening his grip on Mac, nearly pulling the younger man up onto his tiptoes as he cut off the kid's oxygen. Jack swore under his breath as Mac choked, his face quickly turning red as he pulled against the big, meaty arm that was preventing him from getting eough air.
"Fine." Jack growled deep in his throat, lowering his weapon only fractionally. "What the hell does Briar want to know? I have a lead. I'm currently following it up. He'll get his damn journal as soon as I have it in my hands."
"Why are you in Kentucky?" The suit demanded, losing any pretenses of his friendly intel gathering. "Briar had no reason to believe the journal was even in this country, let alone in some Podunk city."
"That's not really a surprise considering Briar can barely find his own dick when he goes for a piss," Jack snarled, fighting off the panic he felt as he watched Mac's continued struggles. His heart pounded against his chest, demanding he do something to protect his partner. "He sent us to do his fucking dirty work for a reason. Now tell your comrade to let my boy go before he destroys the brain cells that Briar is counting on to get him his precious book."
"Who are those men you were meeting with?" The man motioned to Boris who loosened his arm marginally. The kid sagged slightly, but seemed to still be having a hard time breathing, his toes barely finding purchase on the ground.
"Some boys I served with in Delta." Jack lied quickly, daring to send another desperate gaze his partner's way.
A quick, evil grin crossed the Russian's face before he rammed a meaty fist into Mac's side, drawing a choked cry from the younger man.
"I am going to kill you." Jack snarled, his finger twitching to pull the trigger.
"Focus, Dalton," Smith chided.
Jack returned his burning gaze to Smith. "Why does Briar care who I ask for an assist as long as I get his dirty little job done?"
"He likes to know the players on the field, just in case he needs to make a last minute substitution."
"Tell him I can handle my own damn team, and if he wants me to continue to play the game, pick up a damn phone the next time."
"Or what?" Smith actually laughed.
Jack opened his mouth to outline the very painful place he was going to shove the guy's sunglasses when one of the bastard's tactical team started to wheeze. Jack glanced his way, noting the man's face had colored, turning a similar shade to Mac's when Boris was choking the life out of him. It wasn't long before the other two were suffering from similar states as if the suffocation was somehow suddenly contagious.
"What the…? Traddock? Keller?" The CIA operator stepped closer to his men, his gaze momentarily swinging to Jack as if he had done something to the three men who had now dropped their weapons and were clawing desperately at their throats, making terrified chocking sounds. Jack must have looked as confused as he felt because the suit turned to Bozer. "What did you do?"
"Don't look at me?" Bozer quickly lowered his hands, stepping forward to pick up the discarded rifles before moving once more behind Jack. "I'm just a lowly lab tech, remember?"
"Is there a problem here, Dalton?" Jack whirled to see Reaves, his grip around his gun tightening for a heartbeat in reflex. The Brotherhood's Knight moved alongside him with all the stealth of one of his special ops team, his gaze never leaving the three men that were now convulsing on the ground. Caleb cast a brief glance to Mac. "Friend of yours, kid? He's standing awfully close and I don't know about you but I'm all about my personal bubble."
Mac had barely met Caleb's gaze, shaking his head as much as he was able, when Boris was releasing him, grabbing his own head as he howled in pain. Mac fell to his knees, scuttling away from his captor who was now bent double in obvious pain. The kid's hands went to his throat as he dragged in one labored breath and then another. Jack didn't know what the hell was going on, but he forced himself to keep his gun trained on Smith instead of rushing to his partner's side.
"Who are you?" Smith whirled on Reaves as Boris suddenly stopped screaming, his massive Dewayne Johnson body dropping to the ground with a thud that seemed to reverberate off the concrete walls of the parking structure. Confusion and good old fashioned terror warred for center stage on the CIA operator's smug face.
"Wrong question." Caleb took a step forward, placing himself between Jack and the other man, a cocky grin on his face. "You see, this is usually where smart people ask what I am, not 'who' as they don't seem to care so much about proper introductions once their oxygen has been cut off and their brains start to liquefy."
Jack looked from Caleb to Smith who had wisely begun to back his way towards the van, his concern for his downed men fleeing under what was clearly his sense of self-preservation kicking in. He fumbled for the door handle, scrambling to get away from Reaves advancement.
The man's tactical team was still writhing, but Boris…he wasn't moving. Considering the trickle of blood Jack could see coming from the big Russian's nose and ears and the bastard's vacant stare, he was guessing the man was dead. He found he was actually okay with that considering the damage he'd done to Mac and the enjoyment he and his buddies had taken in beating Jack senseless when they were roomies back in the CIA holding cell.
"Trust me when I say you really don't want the answer to either question." Caleb gestured to the tactical team who now appeared freed from their choke holds. "I'd make a quick exit if I were you, before I change my mind and decide to brief you in full including further demonstration of what I can do."
The men started crawling towards the van, only Smith's barked order to retrieve the Russian preventing them from jumping inside. As it was, they gave Reaves a wide berth as it took them all to drag the body forward, where they struggled to dump the big Russian on the floor of the van before practically climbing over their prisoner to make it inside.
"Briar's not going to like this." Smith informed Jack from safely inside the van.
"See my earlier note about Mike," Jack slid his gun back into his holster as Smith peeled away, disappearing as quickly as he had showed. He didn't give the retreating men another glance as he went straight to Mac. The kid actually crab-walked back away from Jack when the older agent dropped to his knees in front of the younger man, noticeably not really with it.
"Easy now." Jack held his hands out, as if he were approaching a spooked animal. Mac's eyes held a hint of wildness and more than a fair share of hurt. "It's just me."
"Jack." Mac blinked, halting his retreat. The deer-in-the-headlights-look vanished from his partner's face, but when his eyes met Jack's the kid still looked a bit dazed. "What just happened?"
"Well now." Jack gently laid one hand on his partner's shoulder, slyly pressing two fingers to his boy's throat to find a pulse that was racing. "I think Caleb just proved that the Force is strong in his family."
"What?" Mac frowned at the Star Wars reference, observably struggling a bit with catching his breath, as well as processing the bizarre event that had just taken place. It was probably too soon to quip.
"How about you just focus on taking in some air, kiddo." Jack winced right along with Mac as his fingers brushed over the huge bruise above his cheek. As Jack expected, the kid's eye was already puffy and swelling. "This doesn't look that great, bud. Anything cracked or broken?"
"I've had worse." Mac sucked in another breath, pulling away slightly when Jack brushed a thumb over the cut on his lip, clearly fighting to get his bearings.
"Yeah, I know you have." Jack ran a hand over Mac's hair, making the motion seem like he needed to get a look at the kid's pupils, but hoping to offer some kind of comfort with the familiar big brother move that Mac always pretended to take offense to. Concussion wasn't out of the question, as he'd taken a few hits from old Boris himself and knew exactly that it was a bit like being pummeled with a sledge hammer. Relieved at finding no signs of head trauma, Jack rocked back on his heels, his gut churning. He forced a grin for his partner, his guilt at not protecting the kid making it an extreme effort. There was also the fact this entire mess was his fault. "But I still take it personally whenever there's any of your blood spilled. You know what a perfectionist I am."
"He okay?" Bozer's voice came from behind Jack, quiet and worried. "Do we need to call Matty and get an exfil?"
"No!" Mac was instantly trying to get to his feet, nearly falling face forward as he made it to standing, his face paling. "I'm fine. We don't have time for that."
"Nice." Jack caught Mac, shaking his head at Bozer, who was still casually holding three assault rifles in broad daylight. The parking garage was out of the way and it was still before nine, but patrons would more than likely be arriving soon. "Maybe ditch the guns, man, before someone spots you and reports us as a terror threat."
Bozer sighed, looking from Mac to the weapons in his hands before meeting Jack's gaze. "And what pray tell do you expect me to do with them?"
"Take them to the van for now. We'll give them to Reaves later. A present for the save." Jack nodded to where Caleb was talking on his cell phone, more than likely speaking with one of the Winchesters if his grim face and hushed tone was any indication. "I'm sure The Guardian will appreciate the gesture."
"And Mac?" Bozer queried.
"I'm good," Mac once more assured hoarsely. He tried to stand straight, but was favoring his left side
Jack wasn't so sure Mac was anywhere near 'good'. He could feel the slight tremors that ran through his partner's frame. The kid seemed to be breathing better, but Jack wanted to check him over to be sure.
"Everything okay?" Caleb asked as he finished the call to find the three men staring at him, a concerned frown on his face. He nodded to Mac, who was looking less than steady as he leaned into Jack's hold. It was a move that made Jack's gut twist even more. Mac didn't show weakness so openly, especially not when it wasn't just the inner sanctum of their team. His boy was hurting.
"Did you kill him?" Mac asked, his eyes going to the puddle of blood where 'Boris' had fallen.
Reaves glanced away for a moment, giving a sigh Jack understood all too well. "The big man was planning on doing more than just choking you, kid. He was going to give a hell of show of snapping your neck in front of your buddy, Dalton."
"How do you know that?" Mac pulled himself straighter, bringing his hand to his throat once more where Jack could make out the start of some impressive bruising. Mac's breathlessness was worrisome enough, the marks only adding to the list of worst case scenarios torturing Jack's mind.
"The same way I knew what Dalton was thinking back in the van earlier." Caleb grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Do you really want me to go into specifics?"
"No." Mac shook his head, blinking when his vision seemed to blur with the movement. Jack reacted instantly, reaching out to place an arm around Mac's waist. "Probably not," the kid added, resignedly.
"I don't care how you knew, or how exactly you just pulled off what you did, but I damn sure do appreciate it." Jack looked to from Mac to Caleb. The kid however would not appreciate what Jack was going to propose. There was no way he would be talking the stubborn ass into going to an ER, not with what had just gone down. Their time was running short and Jack had done nothing to gain ground with Briar. "Seeing what you've already done for us, I hate to ask for anything else, but could I possibly get one more favor?" Jack could feel Mac's sharp gaze on him but ignored it. Nothing, not the ghost-chase for a sword and journal ,nor him going to prison was worth risking family. "Would your daddy happen to be in town?"
