A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your kind words and support. I hope the final chapter doesn't disappoint. Chapter lyrics from "Home," by Phillip Phillips. Might I suggest listening to it after you finish the chapter? :)
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road."
"Come on, bud, one more."
Giving Jack an unsure look, MacGyver did as he was asked with some effort.
/"Significant weakness in his right side."/
"Great job, hoss, that's one more than yesterday." Jack took MacGyver's foot from where he was pressing it against his hand, and gently lowered it onto the mat before moving to kneel at his side.
/ "He may never talk, or walk unassisted again." /
The doctors' words echoed through Jack's head everyday, but he wouldn't let them scare or intimidate him. This was MacGyver they were talking about, his wunderkind. The kid that has never ceased to amaze him, and of all the things that have changed, he knew that never would.
/"Essentially looking at a traumatic brain injury." /
Plus, as Jack has always said; as long as MacGyver was alive, they'd figure out the rest. Still, it was hard watching him go through...everything. He had this vulnerability about him that made Jack, and just about everyone around him want to wrap him up in their arms and never let go.
"All right, bud, now the arm." The physical therapist had reviewed the exercises with Jack and was standing just a few feet away, observing. MacGyver had yet to tolerate him being closer. Today, like most days, they were working on regaining his mobility and strength–especially on his right side.
"Good, give me another." Jack had his hand raised, so that MacGyver had to lift his arm up from the mat and touch his.
He still wouldn't talk, not even through is nightmares now ; which he continued to suffer from. He had trouble retaining new memories, and from what they could tell–just from his reactions to things and people, his long term memories definitely had some big, gaping holes.
The doctors said he'd need significant support likely for the rest of his life. And he would have it. Jack had made his promise–and in fact, had made it years ago. He's always taken his Wookie Life Debt seriously, and always would.
"Way to go, bud," he praised when MacGyver's fingertips brushed his for a third time. "You're getting stronger every day."
Exhaling, MacGyver dropped his arm back onto the mat and rewarded Jack with an exhausted smile.
~*~M~*~
Sitting on the bed with MacGyver's head on her shoulder, Riley played poker with Matty. She was still getting used to how tactile MacGyver had become, but was soaking up every minute of it. It had taken her and Matty over a week to completely earn his trust, to be offered the coveted dinosaur. It had only taken Charlie a day after he returned to visit.
Unfortunately, they couldn't be absolutely sure if MacGyver actually remembered them, or if he was just comfortable with them now. But Riley had a feeling that he remembered them. At least to some degree. "What do you think, Mac?"she asked, showing him her cards. "Should we fold?" MacGyver was watching them with mild interest from her shoulder, Sir Alexander Bones tucked under his arm.
"Don't you help her, blondie. Those Goldfish are mine," Matty teased with a wink.
Face turned slightly into Riley's shoulder, he regarded Matty with a shy, dimpled grin.
Tears stinging her eyes, Matty smiled back. She wished she could do something, anything to change things back to the way they were. But she couldn't. She could only make sure that those responsible would remain locked away in the deepest, darkest holes she could find. She also had what was left of James' drug; what the government had labeled RX48-666, and what Volkov had referred to as Blood Fire destroyed.
Unfortunately, it was nearly twenty years too late.
"Matty?"
As she did nearly every day, she couldn't help but to take in every visible scar on her agent; scars that she had witnessed being born. She had watched on the videos as they had cut into him trying to gauge his blood loss after injecting him with various drugs. She had watched them burn his flesh and break his bones so they could measure his pain response. She had watched them drill into his leg without so much as a local anesthetic. She had watched them experiment on him for "science" and torture him for laughs and money.
"Matty."
"Hmm?"
"You're doing it again."
That got her attention and blinking away the images, she turned to Riley. "Doing what?"
"Scaring me," the hacker admitted softly. "You get this...this horrible look on your face when lookin' at him sometimes, and even though you won't tell me about it, I know what you're really seeing, and I–"
Matty leaned over and took her hand. "I'm sorry."
Squeezing it, Riley closed her eyes with a sigh. "No, I'm sorry, I just–"
"No, you're right. I need to try and stay more focused on the present."
They were both surprised to feel MacGyver's hand slide over theirs'. He looked up at them with concern in his blue eyes.
Overall, his receptive skills were pretty good, but sometimes he had trouble grasping what was going on.
"We're okay, Mac," Matty assured him as Riley hugged him closer.
"Yeah, the only thing you need to worry about is my poker hand," Riley joked, then looked back to Matty. "I guess some things...they just don't change." Despite everything, he still looked after his friends.
"No," Matty smiled dotingly at MacGyver, "no, they do not."
"All right, I'm officially banning anymore of these death traps." Bozer came into the room wrestling a bouquet of large helium balloons.
"Probably a good idea," Matty agreed, keeping her hand where it was; sandwiched between Riley's and MacGyver's.
Bozer dramatically dislodged one that had wrapped around his body, and Riley shook her head. "Double O Boze," she teased, "spy by day, balloon wrangler by night."
Bozer shot her a 'har har' look before addressing MacGyver. "She cheats, right? I always knew it."
MacGyver merely raised his eyebrows tiredly from where his head still rested on Riley's shoulder, not giving anything away.
"In your dreams, Bozer. You just suck."
He glared at her, but stopped the playful exchange for MacGyver's benefit. "This isn't over yet, Ms. Davis."
She brought up a mocking, shaking hand.
He gave her another sparring look before changing the subject. "Any luck with the Goldfish?"
Matty shook her head. They were hoping he'd start helping himself to the crackers they were using as their pot, but no such luck yet. "How'd you get him to take the broth?" MacGyver's difficulty with eating didn't seem to be a trust issue this time, as much as it was a total and complete lack of appetite.
Bozer pursed his lips and averted his eyes.
"Yeah, you just mumbled something about owing Jack's grandpa a new saddle."
The film maker-turn spy was finding the balloons suddenly very interesting. Matty and Riley shared a look and were about to make him spill, when MacGyver shook his head and pulled his hand away to scratch at Riley's wrist.
Matty frowned. "What's he doing?"
"I think...I think he's asking for Jack," she told her, slightly stunned.
"How do you know?"
"He's always playing with Jack's leather wristband," Bozer answered, "especially when he's anxious."
"Why would he–?"
When MacGyver turned his face into Riley's shoulder and whimpered, they realized what was happening.
"I'll get Jack." Bozer was already halfway to the door, heading for the showers.
"I'll, uh...wing it." Riley looked to Matty, more than a little terrified at the thought of trying to stop the panic that was about to occur, stop it before it triggered a seizure.
Movements agitated, breaths picking up, MacGyver grabbed a fistful of hair with his broken fingers.
"Mac?" Riley took his good hand in hers as Matty moved closer and placed a hand over his knee. "Mac, I need you to listen to the sound of my voice, all right? You're safe and Jack's on the way, okay?"
"You're home, Mac," Matty stressed.
"You're not–" Riley's throat and heart constricted like it did every time she thought of him in that place. "You're not there."
But mewling softly, MacGyver continued to push his face into her shoulder and scratch at her wrist. This happened every time his body needed rest, every time he started to drift off. He became disoriented; lost somewhere between the hell he had endured and the now. There was only one person who could reach him then, but–
"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," Jack rushed into the room, looking like he had barely dried off, Bozer right behind him. MacGyver looked up at him from Riley's shoulder; despair dark in his eyes. He pleaded with Jack with those eyes, pleaded for him to make sense of the world.
Gently sliding onto the bed, Jack smiled, tender and calm as he cupped the side of MacGyver's face. "Hey now, bubba."He brushed his thumb across his cheek. "You're safe. You're home and we're all okay here, hoss."
But making a heartbreaking sound that cut them all to the quick, MacGyver reached up and traced a spot on the right side of Jack's forehead with trembling fingers.
His smile now sad, Jack let MacGyver's fingers search for what wasn't there. "There's not a scratch on me, bud. It wasn't real." This wasn't the first time MacGyver had traced a random spot on one of them with grief in his eyes. It was Matty that had realized he was tracing the fatal wounds from the doctored photos he was shown in the mine. The photos he was shown to try and convince him that they were all dead.
Still looking uncertain, MacGyver struggled to sit up so he could curl into Jack's arms.
Wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close, Jack carded his fingers through is hair. "There you go, homie, you know the drill."
Ear pressed against Jack's chest, little by little, MacGyver's body relaxed into his Overwatch's arms as he listened.
Moving away from the bed, Riley reached for Bozer and Matty's hands. It was still an adjustment seeing their super hero friend so scared and confused all of the time, but MacGyver was still a super hero to them, and the bravest man they knew. He always would be. The battles he fought now just mostly came from the inside.
"Focus on it, Mac. Focus on the beats."
The hand MacGyver had fisted in his hair started to give. It made its way onto Jack's chest where the tips of his fingers began to lightly tap the rhythm of his heart out. He hummed a relieved sigh.
Tears never failed to blur Jack's vision at this point. It was hard to believe that something so broken could provide such comfort. "That a boy." He kissed the top of his head. The doctors continued to caution about permanent brain damage, but as always, Jack would take his boy any way he could get him.
MacGyver tapped until his breathing slowed. He tapped until his body relaxed completely. He tapped until he fell asleep in Jack's arms.
~*~M~*~
"Now's not a good time." Jack stopped and placed his hands on his hips when he ran into James in the hallway just outside of MacGyver's room. "He's awake and Riley and Bozer are workin' on gettin' food into him." And they only had about fifteen minutes to do so before he started to fall asleep again. He had physical therapy this morning and it always wiped him out for the day.
"How is he?" James was still keeping his distance, afraid his presence would prove too upsetting for his son. Until now, he had even been avoiding Jack.
Jack's fingers dug into his sides. He gave him a hard look. "He's hurtin' and scared," he told him bluntly. "All the time. He gets confused; doesn't understand what's happening." Mac, who used to understand everything, never miss anything.
"I wish..." James' anguish was evident, but Jack didn't care. "I wish there was something more that I could do."
"I think you've done enough, don't you?" Jack moved to walk passed him.
"I never–you have to know I–"
"Tell me," Jack turned back to him, "where would you be if Mac wasn't in there because of something you created? Hmm? Would you be here if Mac hadn't found you?" He tried to keep his voice low so MacGyver wouldn't hear. "Where the hell were you after Cairo? Huh? Or when your son got Dengue fever, or had his appendix taken out? Where were you through the broken bones and broken hearts and every other time he ended up in the hospital after saving the world?"
James had the nerve to look contrite.
"I didn't see you hovering in the hallways then. You weren't there, but guess what, I was. And I watched as–" Words and truth choking him up, Jack pointed towards MacGyver's room, "I watched as every damn time my boy in there dragged himself back up and went out to fight another day, save another life. Sometimes, in fact, usually long before he was ready."
"Dalton–" James' voice was sounding rough, sounding as wrung out as Jack felt. Good.
"Unlike you," he continued, "he puts others before himself, before his own needs." The tears that were blurring Jack's vision were tears of pride, but they were also tears for everything his partner had been through, and had yet to go through. "And no matter how much he–he hurts, and no matter how scared he is, he always, always keeps fightin.' That kid in there has more courage and integrity in his broken little pinky finger than you have in your entire body."
There were tears in James' eyes too, and it took him more than a moment to get the words passed his shame. "You're right."
Jack clenched his jaw, somewhat annoyed that he so easily agreed. "He needed you."
"No." James gave him a meaningful look. "No, he didn't. I made sure of that."
Jack had to swallow down the lump of emotions that suddenly grew too large in his throat. "Yeah, well he wanted you, and that should have been enough to get you to come out of the shadows." This time when Jack walked away, James didn't try to stop him.
~*~M~*~
"Dude, black or white?" Jack was practically vibrating as he held up two t-shirts. "Personally, I think you look better in white, and I look better in black. Ying, Yang and all that."
Sitting up in bed with a spoon in his left hand and pudding and Goldfish on his tray, MacGyver furrowed his brow. It had been nearly two months since he woke from his coma, and they were finally allowing him to go home and continue rehab as an outpatient.
Jack moved closer and held them up again. He was so excited to be getting him home, he could barely contain himself. "Okay, how about you point." He learned that he had to give him a few extra moments to respond...if he did at all, and waited patiently for him to decide.
Progress continued, although slowly. The treatment that James and the rest of the geek squad had created was being given credit, but no one knew how much more improvement could be expected, or how much irreversible damage had been done. His many, many scars, at least were starting to look a little less angry.
MacGyver finally reached out with a wavering left hand and brushed his spoon against the bottom of the white shirt. His right hand was wrapped thickly after recent surgery in an attempt to repair the broken digits.
"Good choice, my man. You never know who you'll run into on the way to the car. Wanna look your best."
MacGyver went back to trying to eat his homemade pudding–courtesy of Bozer. It took awhile, but he finally got a handle on how to use a spoon again–and with his non-dominant hand. With the same level of concentration Jack has seen him use to diffuse a bomb, he shoveled another spoonful of pudding into his mouth. It took a lot of concentration on his part, and a lot more encouragement. His appetite was still practically non-existent; which Bozer took personally.
They had converted the garage into a space for Jack, though he figured he'd be spending most of his time in MacGyver's room. He still panicked when falling asleep if he didn't feel someone next to him, if he couldn't hear their heartbeat. They were at least able to take turns lying with him now while he slept during the day. Jack got the night shift. He was beyond happy that he wasn't going to have to squeeze onto a little bed anymore.
"Hey, Mac, you remember where we're going today?" He tossed the shirt and some extra soft jogging pants onto the bed.
Oblivious to Jack's question, MacGyver's eyes were fixed on the spoon he held.
Used to him spacing out, "Earth to Mac," Jack prompted gently, lightly running his knuckle up the bottom of his partner's foot.
MacGyver's foot twitched and blinking, he looked up at him.
"You remember where we're goin' today, bud?"
Gaze turning contemplative, still holding the spoon, MacGyver lightly fisted his hand and tapped it against his lower jaw. Home. Then he made the sign for yes.
Jack smiled. "Good."
His speech therapist was teaching him–all of them, sign language while his psychologist and doctors worked on why he didn't speak. Trauma, brain abnormalities, blah, blah, blah... Jack figured he would speak when he was good and ready. He was just happy that he was communicating.
He seemed to be creating some of his own sign language out of what he was being taught, but Jack could understand him just the same. He found comfort in that. It brought a sense of normalcy. It brought its own sense of home.
~*~M~*~
"Bozer, calm down," Riley warned. "You're making me nervous. And if you're making me nervous, you're gonna freak Mac out."
Still bouncing on the balls of his feet, Bozer shook out his hands. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just want everything to be perfect." It felt like forever since his best friend had been home. He tasted the soup cooking on the stove again before going back to his best friend's room and fluffing his pillows.
Shaking her head, Riley went back to ordering a medical alert necklace for MacGyver, but she couldn't ignore the butterflies in her own stomach. MacGyver coming home; home, home put them one step closer to getting back to normal, but was also a stark reminder that "normal" wasn't what it used to be–that their old normal was gone, and endings...they were hard.
Sometimes, so were beginnings.
Bozer buzzed back into the kitchen with a hammer and a step stool. "I wish we could have a real party for him. Everyone keeps asking about him. They'd love to see him," he said, climbing the step stool to reach the very large, "Welcome Home, Mac!" banner he had made.
"Yeah, but you know how easily he gets overwhelmed and overstimulated."
"Yeah, I know, I'm the one that bought him the noise cancelling headphones. I just wish we could show him how much he's loved."
Riley smiled sagely and reached out to squeeze his hand. "What do you call four gallons of chicken noodle soup, support railings throughout the house, a ramp to the deck, fluffed pillows and a Welcome Home sign that can be seen from space?"
Shoulders relaxing some, Bozer grinned. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Stepping off the stool, he admired his work. "That's better."
"You've fixed that sign three times, Bozer. And it was perfectly fine the first time."
"I just want everything to be perfect." He spun around when he heard the door open, but his posture deflated when he saw that it was just Matty.
"Way to make a gal feel welcome there, Boze," she teased at his frown as she walked in. She placed a bag on the island counter next to Riley's laptop. "Jill sent some cookies. They're supposed to be easy on the stomach and packed full of...I dunno, healthy stuff."
Bozer furrowed his brow. "I hope he remembers her." They had been keeping visitors limited to just the team. They even tried to keep the same nursing staff for him as much as possible. When a familiar nurse had off for a couple of days, MacGyver had to be reintroduced to them and get comfortable having them around again. Fearing the same would happen with any one of the team, they had made it a point to never be away for more than a day...but as Matty, Bozer and Riley needed to take on more assignments, the fear of him forgetting one of them grew.
"Peter Ulrich was found dead in his cell this morning," Matty announced unexpectedly.
"Wow," Bozer's eyebrows shot up at the bombshell. "Though I can't say that I'm sorry to hear that."
"Ditto. I still can't believe the brother of the guy who killed Mac's mom, and the guy Mac pissed off years ago ended up in the same prison together. What are the odds?"
Matty sighed. "Apparently, too high." And both Ulrich and Volkov were very, very angry at the MacGyver's. Ulrich for what happened to his brother after the CIA injected him with James' drug, and Volkov for MacGyver destroying his entire international bad guy operation and sending him off to prison.
A heavy silence fell over the group as they got lost in all that had happened, in all of the pain that had been inflicted in the name of revenge. Matty was the first to snap out of it and recognize the solemn atmosphere. "Hey, he's safe now, guys," she reminded gently.
Taking a breath, Riley nodded. "You're right. We need to stay focused on Mac's recovery." Staying in the present was still a constant battle they all shared.
"Yeah, it's just...hard. And the Phoenix won't be the same without them." Bozer walked over to the fridge and pulled everyone out a beer.
"No, no it won't," Matty agreed somberly, accepting her drink from him. "But we're all still here, still together." She looked them both in the eyes. "And together, like always, is how we'll get through."
"Damn straight."
"I'll toast to that." Riley lifted her beer. "To Mac."
"To family," Matty added, warmth and love bright in her eyes. Their bottles clinked together and after taking a drink, Matty looked up and tilted her head to the side. "Sign's crooked."
~*~M~*~
Pulling onto MacGyver's road, Jack was caught off guard by the wave of emotions that suddenly washed over him. How many times during the weeks of searching did he make this drive, heart and passenger seat empty, wondering if he'd ever see his brother again? Gripping the steering wheel, he glanced over at his charge. It was hard not to think about how so much had changed since that day a determined MacGyver had walked out of the Phoenix. It felt like a lifetime ago. But he was alive, he reminded himself. And finally, finally he was taking him home.
Sir Alexander Bones in his lap, MacGyver ran his fingers back and forth over the zipper that kept his memories in place. He had been adding to it. It helped him to remember things; like his penchant for stealing Jack's phone. There was a picture of the entire team in there as well, among other things.
Pulling up the driveway and placing the car in park, he studied MacGyver's face; looking for signs of recognition. Unlike the paperclip crown Jack had hung from the rearview mirror, MacGyver appeared to recognize home and was already reaching for the door handle.
Smiling, Jack bolted out of his side of the car and around to his partner's. "Take it easy, wait for me." MacGyver was already trying to stand when Jack made it to his door. His hip, as expected, gave out, but Jack caught him. Grunting, MacGyver leaned heavily on him, eyes fixed on the house.
"You're home, bud." Emotions that were still heavy in Jack's heart could easily be heard in his voice. "Bozer, Matty and Ri are just inside. They're eager to see ya."
MacGyver eyes were still locked on the house. "Mac?"It had been a long, long road home for him, and Jack suspected that there were parts of him that would never make it home, that would remain lost in that hole forever. It was impossible not to come out a different person after what he'd been through.
But with the pieces that did make it back, MacGyver could and would be whole again. His family would see to that. They'd fill those empty spaces with love and MacGyver would seal them in place with that inherent determination he still carried.
"Bud, you all right? We don't have to go in yet if you're not ready. We can get back in the car and–"
Tears in his eyes, breaths shaky, MacGyver shook his head.
Jack brushed a hand through his long blond strands. He still had one arm wrapped around him, holding him up. "Talk to me, kid."
Gaze dropping, MacGyver's brow pinched as he searched for the word he wanted to express. Finally, he brushed his palm upward against his chest twice.
Warm tears immediately filled Jack's eyes, and for the first time since MacGyver had disappeared, his heart felt a little less broken. "Yeah, kiddo, me too," he returned thickly, squeezing his shoulder. "Me too."
Happy.
~*~EPILOGUE~*~
Heart pounding, Jack bent over his knees as he wheezed. He hadn't felt this good in months. "Okay," he panted, "you get the next hill."
Grinning, MacGyver got a look on his face that let Jack know that he was trying to think of a word. Finally, he made the sign for "old man."
Jack gaped. "Old, my ass!" he rebutted. "I think I just beat my personal best." He lowered himself onto the ground next to his partner. "Mind handing me that water?" Pulling the bottom of his shirt up, he wiped it over his sweaty brow.
MacGyver looked down at the bottle in his lap, then went to grab it–
"Right hand, bubba." He waited patiently as it was another moment before MacGyver grappled for it with his right hand. He continued to have strength and dexterity issues with it and was encouraged to use it as much as possible. But he struggled to, especially after getting used to using his left hand while his right was healing after surgery.
"Thanks, bud." Taking it, Jack sprayed some of the water over his face first before downing half of the contents.
MacGyver looked out on the magnificent view before them. They came out nearly every morning and personally, it was Jack's favorite part of the day. Desperate to stretch his legs and get MacGyver out of the house and some semblance of normalcy, he had gotten a customized three-wheel running chair that he could push MacGyver in while he ran. The ache that Jack had still been carrying in his heart had started to loosen some, and MacGyver had started to smile more.
He still had bad days and really bad days, along with the good.
On his good days, he was inquisitive, ate with encouragement, and openly communicated in his own way. He rarely had seizures.
On the bad days, he was distant and lost in thought a lot. He often got headaches on the bad days, struggled to communicate and eat. Sometimes he had seizures.
On the really bad days, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't communicate. Anxious and scared, he'd tuck himself into the smallest corner he could find if he wasn't glued to Jack's side. He often had seizures.
Today was a good day. A really good day. It was a rare treat for MacGyver to joke with him.
Wearing sunglasses for his overly sensitive eyes, MacGyver squinted up into the blue sky. There was a peaceful look on his face that placed a lump in Jack's throat. His boy loved being outside in the sun. And despite being lathered in sunscreen every time he stepped out of the house, his complexion was losing that pallid look and he was starting to get a nice golden tan. Jack continued to have trouble really processing all that he had been through; every painful, terrifying moment that had brought him, finally, to this peaceful one.
MacGyver still clung to Bones and Jack when he slept, and most of the day on his bad days, but otherwise...he had found something else to hold onto. Hand releasing it, he grunted and pointed at a red-tailed hawk drifting on the breeze.
The doctors and specialists still cautioned them on the uncertainty of MacGyver's recovery, but Jack tried to stay focused on the positives, and on all of the progress he had made over the past few months. How he was learning sign language. How he could walk five steps on his own now.
How he had said Jack's name this morning.
Jack had automatically responded to the raspy whisper with, "Yeah, bud?" until it had hit him: MacGyver had spoken. Deliberately. It was just one word, but Jack had never loved the sound of his name so much. With tears in his eyes, he had handed him what he was pointing at, asking for. Then overcome with...so many emotions, Jack fell to his knees and cried into his lap.
MacGyver didn't seem to understand his tears, but just as Jack had done so many times to comfort him, he carded his fingers through Jack's hair until he could pull himself together.
Jack didn't know what he did to deserve this kid, but unlike MacGyver's own father; he never, never intended to let him go.
MacGyver still had a content look on his face as he watched the bird carve its way through the sky. Turning his gaze outward, Jack couldn't help but to see a phoenix in its place as it twirled ever higher into the blue, rising up from the ashes, from broken things, to soar strong and whole once again.
Just like his boy.