Okay, so… Out of my own need for this, this happened.
Partly because I woke up with the worst case of alcohol-related angst I've ever taken part of… Thank God no one agreed to be shotting Tequila with me… That could have turned out even uglier…

It was swollen, black and blue and a whole bunch of other colors no wrist or hand should take on. Yeah, he had messed up this time… Big time…

Jack grimaced as he rolled over to his stomach and leaned on his elbows, as the fingers of his left hand carefully started unbuckling the wrist cuff he wore on his right. The bruised wrist throbbed steadily against the black leather, and Jack didn't look forward to what kind of 'situation' might greet him as he got the leather removed.

He sucked a sharp breath as pain shot up his lower arm.

"Oh, fudge!" Jack growled, stopping his attempt of getting rid of the supporting wrist-cuff. "Damn, that hurt!"

He sat up and studied his hands. There were bruising and small cuts all over his knuckles, that hadn't been there before he painted the town last night. That, and his wrist hadn't been this damn painful. Painful, yes… But not to this extent. No, now something felt wrong.

He got up and walked slowly into the kitchen. He would get some coffee going, and then he could address the problem with his wrist afterwards. He sure didn't look forward to it.

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Just as he had pushed the button on his old but trusty coffeemaker, the thing was older than Mac, his phone buzzed.

'Hey man… Just checking
in, are you awake and
âlive?'

Jack half-grinned, half-grimaced as he read the words from Mac.

'Yeab, sute…'

He didn't care for any lengthy answers, after all… His dominant hand was burning with the fire of a thousand bee-stings.

'Taking that as yeah, sure
How are you holding up?
Last night was kinda
wild. You punched out a
guy hitting on Riley…'

A flash of memory downloaded into Jack's mind. Okay, so that was what had happened…

He looked at his phone, the message would require more of an answer than his poor hand was up for, so he fumbled with the phone and dialed Mac instead.

"So that's what happened…" Jack just continued where their conversation through text had stopped.

"Yeah, he didn't get the memo when Riley blew him off the fifth time… Let's just say you defended your daughter's honor." Mac chuckled. "And then you demanded whiskey afterwards…"

"Yeah, cause my memory consists of black holes…"

"Scale 1-10… How hungover are you?"

"2, I guess… Thirsty as hell, think all the sand of Sahara relocated into my mouth…"

"Screw you!" Mac deadpanned, "My head hurts like utter hell. And you drank more than me…"

"Genes…" Jack smiled, "I've got genes made for this…"

"Dude, I hate you so much right now…"

"You're not alone…" Jack winced looking down at his right hand, "Are you in a condition to drive?"

"No, why?"

"Anyone else at your place ready to drive?"

"No… WHY?"

"I need someone to drive me…" Jack let out a soft chuckle.

"Jack, I understood that… WHY do you need someone to drive you, and WHERE?"

Jack grimaced as he sat down on one of the cheap kitchen chairs, and rested his right arm carefully on the kitchen table.

"I need someone to drive me to the ER, or to the Phoenix Foundation so I can visit the medical staff there, but preferably the ER…"

"What did you do?"

"Screwed up…" Jack admitted, hoping that that would do.

"Jack… Humor me…"

"Screwed up my wrist…"

"Right one?" It wasn't as much of a question as a statement.

"Yup…"

"So that was the deal with the whiskey…"

"I guess…" Jack almost moaned, "Honestly, kid, I didn't even remember getting in a fight…"

"Think Bozer caught it on tape…"

Jack let out a shaky sigh, "Please tell me you can delete that…"

"I can, but I won't…"

"You could at least have the decency not to sound like you're smiling…"

"I could, but I won't…" Mac repeated, with the same smug tone in his voice. Before he dropped the cheery tone, and asked, "But in all seriousness… How bad is your wrist?"

Jack glared down at the achy limb, taking almost half a minute before he made up an answer.

"I think the fix for it drifts somewhere between a cast, and surgery…"

"Bad, huh?"

"Yeah, bad…" Jack confirmed, "I haven't even been able to get the cuff off yet. Thought it would be better to crawl into the splint…"

"But you couldn't?"

"I couldn't even finish unbuckling the damned thing!" Jack shot back, partly annoyed over Mac, partly over his own incompetence…

"I can walk over to your place… Be there in fifteen, if you need help…"

Jack shook his head, but remembered they were on the phone.

"No, I'll just walk over to the neighbor. He owes me one…"

"And what do you plan to tell him?"

"I got a little too drunk, and I fell… Apparently caught myself the wrong way…"

"And what will you say about the scratches and bruises your knuckles obviously must have?"

"He thinks I'm a stuntman too… I'll make up some little lie that it's from a fight scene…"

"You actually made a good choice of making that our cover-story for the pizza boy that one time… Good call…"

"Yeah, I think he deserved some kind of explanation after the fifth time he delivered pizza to us after some mission had left us both in some kind of cast, splint or sling…"

"Yeah, think he started to get nervous on our behalf after the second time…" Mac agreed.

"OW! FUUU!" Jack yelped, almost dropping the phone in the process.

"You alright there buddy?" Mac grimaced as Jack's sudden outburst echoed throughout his head. He could hear his partner panting on the other end of the line, trying to get his composure back.

"Just… Just tried to push off on the table… Bad idea…"

"I thought you were used to an aching wrist…"

"An aching, yeah… This, NO!" Jack growled, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder. His left hand steadying his right wrist.

"Jack… Get yourself to the doctor…"

"Yes mom…"

"Ha-ha, funny…"

"But I must find someone to drive me first…"

"Good luck with that… Maybe your neighbor can drive you?"

"Actually, I didn't think of that…" Jack admitted, and cleared his throat, "That's not a bad idea…"

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A few hours later, Jack's leather wrist-cuff was replaced by a brand new cast, and his wrist held an additional two pins and one screw.

Yeah, he wasn't about to punch anyone with that fist for a while…

He couldn't hold back a smile when he walked out to the parking lot, and saw a familiar red Jeep waiting there. He walked over to it and knocked on the window, chuckling as the young blond man startled awake in the driver's seat.

"You came to pick me up?"

Mac rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and nodded.

"Yeah, I got Thornton to call and ask when you were done. Figured you could use a ride back home."

"Thanks…"

"So, you wanna go home?"

Jack looked down at his cast, and back up at Mac. "I'm hungry as hell…"

"We could drive home to me… Bozer was preparing barbeque when I left… And you know he always makes enough for leftovers, or sudden visits from hungry friends…"

"Sounds like a plan…" Jack smiled, before he lifted his cast up in front of him to study it.

"How long…?"

"Six weeks…" Jack answered, "Until I get the cast off… I have to wait a few weeks more before they take the new hardware out…"

"Pins?"

"And a bolt…" Jack growled, "Or, well… I think they planned on leaving the pins in there… But the screw is coming out in a few months…"

"Sure glad I'm not the one you punched…"

"Yeah, 'bout that…" Jack winced and looked over, waiting to meet two pale blue eyes, "Next time, -stop me…"

Mac barked out in laughter, "Only if you promise not to punch me when I do…"

"Promise…"

"Pinky-promise?"

Jack didn't answer, just held up his left hand with his pinky uncurled.

Okay, yeah… I have a slight fixation on Jack's wrist at the moment… Sorry… -not sorry…

Hope you enjoyed…