Jack got up slowly and carefully, both because his pain medication had worn off and because he didn't want to make some noise and disturb his roommate. The double room was big, but Mac was an incredibly light sleeper, waking up at a pin drop, unless he was caught up in some nightmare. Then the man could be frustratingly difficult to pull from slumber. He swayed for a minute as he got to his feet, thinking that he probably had a mild concussion to go with his bomb-induced bruising, separated ribs, and the many cuts he'd gotten on the glass the previous night, several of which had required re-stitching. Jack glanced over at his partner, lying in the double bed across the room, almost overly still. It would have worried him but, he reasoned, it could be the result of the sedative Steve had given the kid.
Mac really should have gone back to the hospital, probably shouldn't have left it to begin with, if Jack were a hundred percent honest with himself, but he just couldn't force the issue. Besides, Jack reasoned as he gingerly made his way toward the bathroom, Steve had shown up to the hotel suite with Riley and Todd fully prepared to deal with just about any medical emergency short of open heart surgery (and even that, in a pinch, Jack was pretty sure), and he'd been a good sport about Mac's refusal to consider going back to a more traditional setting for treatment. Well, Jack had argued him into being a good sport about it. At first, without so much as even a cursory exam of either of them, he'd gotten out his phone to call Matty, saying both of them looked to be in rougher shape than he was comfortable dealing with in the field. Mac had taken a reflexive step toward the door, but Jack held up his hand and explained their deal. No boss. No hospitals. Just the team. And if he got that, Mac would stay put and follow Steve's medical advice until they had a full analysis of the scene and hopefully Nikki's laptop.
Steve reluctantly agreed, shaking his head and setting his bag down on the coffee table in the suite's common room. Mac tipped his chin at Jack and told him in no uncertain terms that Steve was fixing him up first, otherwise he knew Jack would find an excuse to not get looked after at all, and Jack had countered with the same argument. Riley situated herself in a comfortable ottoman chair off in a corner with the laptop she was trying to crack, grinning and shaking her head, too. This was an overly familiar scene. Usually Jack won, but mostly because Mac would get fed up with the ridiculous arguments Jack tried to make, rather than actually conceding he needed help. Todd raised his eyebrows at her and said that instead of listening to Butch and Sundance argue over who was actually dumber he was going to shower off the dirt from the blast. That solved Steve's problem nicely. "That only leaves one full bathroom for you guys to get cleaned up in," he said. He took out a quarter and told MacGyver to call it. The toss came out heads, counter to his call, and Mac swore. Jack crowed just a little, but Steve, seeing this as a good way to give Mac a small win and minimize his arguing later on, said, "Lucky you, Dalton. Mac lost the privilege of getting checked out first. Go grab a shower, Mac, and I'll put Humpty Dumpty back together again while you're busy. Then, you're up."
Jack had done a fair amount of totally justifiable whining, but he skated out of the deal without the doc insisting on a tetanus shot (although it was mentioned in reference to all those fresh and filthy cuts), so all things being equal, it felt like a win. A couple of Vicodin and his own shower later, Jack was reasonably convinced that he hadn't actually drawn the short straw. The arrangement had worked well for Mac, too, since it seemed to take the pressure off and make him feel like he had options, which had been Steve's diabolical intention. By the time he finished getting cleaned up, his body was telling him (in a very loud, insistent voice that spoke in all capital letters) that he did in fact need some medical care and the sooner the better would be appreciated. Mac had been worse off to begin with, what with the knife wound to his shoulder and the fair amount of solid hits Murdoc had gotten in during their struggle, and since he couldn't tolerate narcotic pain meds, he put in a much less pleasant day than Jack, just sitting wedged into one end of the couch and wincing every time he moved.
It was still fairly early when Steve had suggested to them (ordered was probably more accurate) that they should both go to bed. Jack had gratefully accepted a couple of pills for his pain, knowing sleep would be thin without them, and secure in the knowledge that Todd, who had been far enough back to only really get dirty from the underground blast, had security covered for the night. Mac had taken more ibuprofen, knowing there was only so much it was going to help. When Steve told him he thought, in order to help him get some sleep to really rest and recover, a sedative was medically the most logical thing to consider as an alternative to the pain meds he couldn't take, Mac had accepted being given the shot without much resistance, and was nearly asleep on his feet as he preceded Jack through the door of the room they were sharing. Jack turned to offer their teammate a quiet thank you and Steve had just given him a wink. "Couch anything in solid logic and it's usually smooth sailing, Jack. You might want to give it a try one of these days when you two get in one of your pigheaded shouting matches."
Now Jack had finished with his necessary business and hand washing. He flashed his reflection a lopsided grin as he checked his own pupils in the mirror. Satisfied they were even, he flicked off the light and shuffled back toward his bed, thinking another dose of medicine would be nice to take him through the rest of the night, but not so nice that he was going to wake Steve up for it. Besides, no matter what the man said about how good the new baby was, he looked as sleep deprived as Jack had ever seen him. Patching their dumb asses up was probably like a vacation that had been well-earned. Jack stopped mid-step when he saw Mac wasn't still in his bed. The dim blue light of the TV filtered through the crack in the door from the silent common area. TV with no sound. Classic Mac. That explained his partner's stillness when Jack had gotten up. He wasn't sleeping peacefully. He'd been lying there awake, trying to decide what to do about it. Jack checked the bedside clock. Only 1:30 in the morning. Steve had been pretty sure Mac would be out cold all night. No such luck apparently. Since Mac hadn't waited until Jack went back to sleep to slip out of their room, Jack assumed Mac wouldn't mind some company, was maybe even subtly asking for it. He slipped on the cushy hotel robe from the hook by the door and went into the common area. He nodded at Mac as he walked right by him into the kitchen, like he just needed a midnight snack. That way if Mac didn't want him around, the kid wouldn't feel like he'd been hovering. He called out quietly, "You want a slice of pizza, dude?"
Mac turned his head toward Jack giving it a little shake, "No thanks …" Then he thought about it; not eating was sort of a default when he was stressed out. Not the healthiest coping mechanism. Steve had helpfully pointed out that it was no more logical than eating crap or drinking too much when he was out of sorts and he was probably doing as much damage to his body in the long run. He had a sneaking suspicion that Steve had learned to get him to cooperate by using science and he wanted to be a little pissed about it, but it was damned clever. Also, he was usually right. "On second thought, I'd love one," he called softly. Then he just got up and went to see what there was to drink, opting for a tangerine coconut water and grabbing Jack a ginger ale while Jack plated them up a couple of slices. They went back into the living area and sat down in front of a silent replay of the previous night's hockey game. Mac favored Vancouver so he wasn't disappointed in the action. After a few bites of pizza, old habits won over and he just sat next to Jack in silence for a little while, sipping his coconut water. Finally, Jack decided to do a little fishing.
"I didn't wake you did I? Steve said the stuff he gave you would probably have you out for twelve hours or so."
Mac absently rubbed the back of his neck in a familiar nervous gesture. "Yeah, well, that stuff never works like it's supposed to."
Jack shook his head. "Hardly seems fair. I feel like maybe you deserve the rest every once in a while."
Mac gave him a little grin. "I'm not complaining. Being hard to drug has saved my ass once or twice."
Jack chuckled, "Yeah. It's saved both our asses a few times, I think."
Mac moved a couple of throw pillows and got comfortable against the arm of the couch so he could face Jack. He was happy the lights were out so every detail of their faces weren't visible to the other, but happy for the low light of the TV so he could evaluate Jack's expressions. "I couldn't sleep any more. When I heard you get up I knew I wouldn't be disturbing you. Also I figured it meant your pain meds wore off and you'd probably be up for a while anyway. Hurting in the middle of the night all alone sucks. It's more tolerable with pizza and hockey. And company."
"You mean you actually wanted me out here? I was afraid I was gonna piss you off. You tend to like to be alone when you're processing a lot."
Mac snorted out a little laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm working on that."
Jack noticed Mac had stopped eating and thought he'd better give him an opening before other old habits closed him off. "What got you up, bud? Nightmares again?"
Mac shook his head, looking at Jack thoughtfully. "No. I woke up and I was just thinking about everything. Nikki … Thornton … Murdoc … My father."
"What were you thinkin', Mac?" Jack asked gently.
"That I never saw it before, but they're all connected … somehow. Like a really complicated Venn diagram … or maybe more like a web. Yeah … like a spider web. Something natural, but planned … dangerous."
Jack could see how big Mac's eyes were even in the dim light here. "So what do we do about it? Grab a duster?" Jack tried a joke, but Mac shook his head. It wasn't annoyed or anything, Jack thought, it just said Mac's brain was actually doing something with the metaphor.
"No," the blond head turned slowly from side to side, reinforcing the negative. "If you just knock it down whatever is caught in the web goes with it. And I'm caught in it, Jack. I didn't see it before, but I do now. I'm caught in this web. Like a fly that knows its fate."
Jack searched his own brain for a metaphor that involved someone protecting a fly, but the best he could come up with was an entomologist, so he just asked, "So what do we do with this web, buddy? What do we do that keeps you safe from going down with it?"
Jack's heart lifted when he saw Mac give him a small smile. "We pick it apart one thread at a time."
"Is there a thread you think you've figured out how to cut loose?" Jack's eyes were narrow now.
Mac nodded. "Nikki."
"Then that's where we'll start." Jack got up and started toward one of the closed doors.
Mac's eyes followed him. "What're you doing, Jack?"
"Gonna bug Steve. It's 2:30 am and we both need some more sleep."
Mac shook his head stubbornly. "I'll just try going back to bed. I'm all cooperative-patiented out. No more shots."
Jack tipped him a knowing grin. "Now Mac, is that very logical?"
Mac shook his head and sighed, but gave Jack a grin of his own. "You guys are assholes."
