Chapter Nine
Mac couldn't stop twisting the blanket covering him; he just kept wringing it between his hands until it was a crumpled mess of light blue fabric.
He couldn't stop thinking.
That was the worst part. Painkillers often did that to him. When other people got drowsy and fell asleep, his mind only seemed to rev up faster, run hotter, than even his normal state. It was disquieting to say the least.
He was alone, too. He could handle alone, he had spent enough of his life fending for himself, but after everything that had happened with Murdoc, he didn't want to be alone now.
That felt so selfish. The others would be with him if they could. Jack was in a hospital bed of his own, for crying out loud. Mac knew he had Phoenix security watching his back, but what if Murdoc got through that? What about Jack's room, did he have security, too? Mac tried to crane his neck to see around the curtain pulled most of the way around his bed but grunted when the ache in his gut catapulted into pure agony. He let his head fall back against the pillow, exhaling loudly through clenched teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut.
Ouch! Not to self, don't do that again.
"What are you doing, man? Can't leave you alone for ten minutes and you're already trying to get out of bed." Mac sighed internally at the familiar, warm voice. He heard the curtain slide along its track and felt a calloused, comforting hand on his arm. He let the pressure of Jack's hand ground him, and was infinitely grateful to have something else to focus on instead of the sharp dagger digging into his belly.
"Don't hold your breath," Jack soothed, brushing a strand of hair off Mac's forehead. "Breathe through it, man, you know the drill."
Mac tried, but when he pulled in another breath it felt like his lung was going to collapse again, the pain more concentrated around where the tube in his chest had been. His hand connected to the arm Jack was holding onto jerked forward against Mac's will as he searched for something to hold onto. Jack slipped his hand into Mac's and let him squeeze as hard as he wanted.
"You've gotta stop scaring me like this, kid." Mac heard Jack say quietly, and he could feel Jack searching around his bed for the small, white button that upped the amount of painkillers he was getting through his IV. Mac knew the mechanics of how the PCA, Patient-Controlled Analgesia Pump worked, and he knew he couldn't give himself too much or overdose on it, but he hadn't touched it at all since he had been aware enough to do so.
When Jack finally found it Mac heard him press the button rapidly a few times and it didn't take long before Mac felt the rush of pain killers rushing through his veins. He sagged against the bed when the worst of it was over and when he opened his eyes, Jack's blurry face was hovering over him nervously. Dr. Einstein was there, too, and Mac felt the hard plastic of an oxygen mask being placed over his nose and mouth. The oxygen was cool as it flowed through the mask and Mac closed his eyes again and simply focused on breathing. Being injured sucked. It made even the simplest tasks difficult. He had been breathing easily his whole life, except for a few unfortunate times when he most certainly was not, which meant that it shouldn't be as hard as it was now.
"How you doing there, bud?" Jack asked sheepishly. "Sorry I haven't been in to see ya since, you know."
"M'okay," Mac grimaced at how weak his voice sounded under the oxygen mask. "You?"
"Ah, you know me, man; my head's as hard as they come." Jack smiled. "If Lord Wack-a-Doo's rocket launcher didn't knock my brain any more loose than usual, his little paralytic trip didn't either. Seriously, bud, I'm so sorry I let that scumbag get near you like that. It's my job to protect you and I couldn't stop him."
"Jack." Mac grunted through the mask.
"And I know what you're gonna say, "not when we're off the clock" but I told you before, and this only proves it, we are never off the clock."
"Jack."
"I'm just so damn sorry, man."
"Jack!" Mac tried yet again, his voice as loud as he could get it even though it was still far too weak for Mac's liking. It finally did the trick, though, and Jack finally shut up.
"What?" He asked, almost innocently and Mac couldn't help the giggle that escaped – damn pain meds.
"Not your fault." Mac insisted, trying to stay serious. The phantom feel of Murdoc's fingers tracing along his broken ribs sobered him up pretty quick and he shuddered heavily. "He got you first, I know you couldn't move."
Jack winced at the reminder that they had both been held captive in their own bodies. But they had both fought tooth and nail to get out, too.
"I'm not gonna let him do that to you again, you hear me, kid." Jack promised, earnestly. "He ain't touching you again."
"I know," Mac couldn't stop another shudder, though, it was so hard to get rid of the feel of Murdoc digging into his incision with his fingers and ripping out his stitches. Mac didn't want to say it out loud because he didn't want Jack to feel any worse than he already did, but Mac was afraid he might never truly be free from those phantom touches. There was something about the way Murdoc explored his injuries, with an almost loving caress, and it made Mac sick to his stomach to even think about it. He'd been tortured before and it had been the most brutal and horrible thing he had ever been through, but that was almost easier to deal with afterwards than what Murdoc did, even though it was so tame when compared to how bad it could have been.
"It's okay," Jack continued. "Ya know, if you're not really okay."
Mac felt immediately betrayed by his body when he felt tears fill his eyes at the love and sincerity in the words. Jack had always been able to see through him in a way no one else had before. The damn painkillers were really messing with his ability to keep his emotions locked tight in the box they usually lived in. Mac wouldn't say he was an emotional robot, he had no boarders when it came to taking care of his friends, but when it came to dealing with his own crap it was much easier to just lock everything away. Mac bit his lip hard to keep the dam from letting loose. There was no way in hell he was going to cry in front of Jack, no, that just wasn't going to happen.
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Jack whispered when Mac failed and a single tear slipped down his cheek. Jack gently swiped the tear away, and he had such a look of absolute anguish on his face, it broke Mac's heart even more. He felt his chest buckle as the sobs he was trying to keep in rocked his whole body and he groaned in absolute agony at the resulting cataclysm that exploded in his chest.
"You gotta calm down a little, bud," Jack said, his voice even more worried than before. "You're just hurting yourself. I'm right here, you're okay."
"It hurts," Mac ground out through clenched teeth. For the rest of his life he would blame the painkillers. He hated how loose-lipped they made him, how they took away his ability to control how much pain he allowed other people – especially Jack – to see. It felt like yet another violation to his person.
"I know, man, I know. I'm so sorry, I'm right here." Jack ran his hand soothingly over Mac's hair and eventually the pain died down again.
"I'm okay," Mac said again when his whole body could finally relax against the bed and he felt heavy with absolute, pain-triggered exhaustion.
Jack sighed, running a hand down his face, and Mac's eyes slowly drifted shut of their own accord.
"I don't think so, bud. But I promise you will be."
Jack would never say it out loud but it took a lot of courage for him to finally go back in and see Mac.
He just felt so damn guilty every time he thought of the kid, but he knew he had to. For one thing, there was no way he would be able to stay away for long regardless of any personal failures he was feeling. And secondly, Mac's past was riddled with abandonment and there was no way Jack was going to add to that.
No, he had spent too many years trying to rewrite all the psychological damage the kid's dad had left him with. That was what gave him the final push he needed go back into that room.
Jack knew deep down that Mac's unusual emotional display was a direct result of the meds he was on and that Mac would never normally let Jack see that side of him but in a weird way Jack was grateful for it. It was something to hold on to.
He had his mission. Jack would find Murdoc and he would put him in the ground. It didn't matter how long it took or how dangerous got. There was no way he was letting that psychopath get away with what he had done to Mac.
Jack would help Mac heal, and then hunt would begin.
That was the silent promise he made his kid that day, and he fully intended on keeping it – no matter the cost.
The End.
I've decided to end this story here because I eventually want to write a sequel further dealing with Mac's recovery and the team going after Murdoc. This story was only ever supposed to be a whumpy extension of the accident at the end of 2x04 and I am very happy with the way it turned out. I want to give the manhunt for Murdoc the proper care and attention it deserves and that means it will be getting its own story! Thank you for coming on this journey with me, this was my first MacGyver fanfiction story and I can't wait to write many, many more!
