1Title: Of Heart Punches and Memory Boxes
Author: dragonfly
Series: Light Fall
Category: gen, comfort, papa jack, MacGyver with disabilities, amnesia, American sign language
Summary: MacGyver is having a good day, but Jack can tell that something is troubling him. As always, he takes care of his boy.
Disclaimer: I don't own MacGyver, or any of the characters from the show.
A/N: You'll want to read "From Broken Things" before reading this. This is just a small snapshot of life as it is now for Jack and MacGyver. / Words MacGyver sign are formatted like this. / There may be one or two more short stories before I start posting another multi-chapter fic in this series. I really hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!
~*~M~*~
Jack was in the kitchen making sandwiches when he heard a crash. "Mac?" Running to MacGyver's room, where he thought Mac had been working on a jigsaw puzzle at his desk, he found him and his box of memories on the floor, memories scattered everywhere. Jack dropped next to him, eyes automatically looking over his partner as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "What'd you hit?" He was already running his fingers through the blond hair checking for injury, noting that he felt a little warm. "Mac, what'd you hit?" They had learned the hard way that he didn't feel pain like he should anymore.
MacGyver dutifully brushed his fingers against his head and shoulder, then patiently suffered through Jack's inspection. Once finished checking him over and satisfied that he wasn't injured, Jack sat back on his haunches. "What happened, bud?"
"Out."
MacGyver still didn't speak much, but when he did, it was only in single syllables in a soft voice.
"Outside?" He would live outside if Jack let him. "You were trying to take your box outside?"
But MacGyver's attention was fixed now on the few memories he held in his left hand. He was constantly picking up random items - usually rocks lately, albeit nice ones, and putting them in his dinosaur. At first, Jack thought the rocks were just another odd quirk he had developed, but when asked, MacGyver could associate a memory with every single one of them, too.
Jack didn't bother asking why he didn't wait for him. When he made the decision to go, he went, and he refused to use a walker or cane. He was getting stronger and could take more steps without assistance, but his hip still gave out occasionally, which was why he was on the floor. "Well, it's raining right now, bud. How 'bout I help you outside later?"
Jack gathered up the memories still on the floor and put them back in the box; including one of Matty's bracelet charms and one of Riley's earrings. He wondered if they knew where they had ended up. The box was actually a small, handmade wooden chest that MacGyver's great-great grandfather had made. James had insisted he have it when Jack mentioned wanting something other than a shoe box for MacGyver's memories when Bones got full.
Brow deeply furrowed, MacGyver dropped the memories in with the rest.
"You missin' some?" Jack gave the carpet another once-over. When MacGyver didn't answer, he asked, "Want me to get your tablet?" They had installed a communication app, but MacGyver hadn't shown much interest in it yet, despite their attempts.
/ Outside? / MacGyver looked up at Jack, blue eyes hopeful.
"Now, I know you'd happily sit out there all day in the rain until you were all pruney, but the last thing I need is for you to get pneumonia."
MacGyver hummed and looked down at his upturned palm.
Jack watched him with a doting smile. Sometimes, he needed a few extra moments to figure out what was spoken to him, and sometimes his brain just fixated on certain things as it relearned. The way he was looking down at his hand told Jack that it was likely his "pruney" comment that MacGyver's brain was taking its time digesting. As MacGyver pinched his fingers together, studying them, Jack noticed that his socks were missing. Again. "Dude, we've talked about this."
MacGyver looked over his hand and down at his feet. He wiggled his toes. "Cold."
"Yeah, man, I know they're cold." Jack shook his head and sat down on his butt so he could take his own socks off. "Those piggies are like freakin' popsicles. Here, take mine. They're all nice and stretched out." MacGyver hated anything that gripped his wrists or ankles, even socks, even the super low and high ones. The scars around them unfortunately made it easy to understand why.
Jack waited patiently as MacGyver pulled the socks on, gently reminding him to use his right hand, too. Then brushing his fingers through the blond hair again, he frowned. "I think you've got yourself a fever, hoss." He got them all of the time. The doctors called them psychogenic fevers and said they were normal for what he was going through, but they always set Jack on edge. "Come on, we'd better get you up off the floor. I'm sure that hip of yours is none too happy, anyway."
Putting his hands under MacGyver's armpits, he lifted him to his feet. He was still underweight, but even without the nearly daily weigh-ins, Jack could tell that he was slowly gaining. "Bed, or couch?"
MacGyver just leaned into him more, which meant that he wanted to be wherever Jack was.
"All right, how about the couch? Then you can eat the amazing sandwich I just made for you and I can see how high that fever is."Jack was already helping him shuffle in that direction. "Want me to get Bones?" The stuffed companion was on his bed.
MacGyver brought his hand up to the dog tags around his neck. They were actually Jack's; they had fallen on the floor one day when he was rearranging his things and MacGyver had taken to them immediately...and refused to give them back. Bozer told him that on the rare occasions when he left the house without MacGyver, MacGyver held onto them the entire time. "All right, well, you let me know if you change your mind." Often the tags–which included a medical ID tag and Jack's contact information– comforted him enough throughout the day, but there were times when he still needed his Bones.
~*~M~*~
After eating a half a sandwich and a few Goldfish crackers, MacGyver sat curled up on the couch against the armrest. His fever wasn't high, so the best thing for him was to rest. He was playing with a nut and bolt he had threaded–something Jack had come up with to help with his dexterity issues, but his attention was mostly fixed on the mantel, specifically, the pictures.
Jack kept one eye on him while he made a few appointments and texted Bozer a grocery list. When MacGyver started to absently rub his knuckles through his hair, he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd start to fall asleep and need him. So, abandoning the rest of his to-do list, Jack sat down on the couch next to him. He barely had an arm raised before MacGyver pushed away from the armrest and plopped into his side. "All right, kid, you gonna talk to me?" Jack settled an arm around him. "What's going on in that head of yours? What were you lookin' for in that box?"
Just as Jack was beginning to think he wouldn't answer, he did.
/ Me /
Jack pulled back and frowned down at him. "You? What do you mean?"
/ Before die /
Since finding MacGyver in that hospital in Idaho, Jack had lost track of how many times he'd felt punched in the heart. This was another one of those times. On the very rare occasion when MacGyver would mention the mine, he referred to it as the place where he died. Where they had all died.
/ I lost.../ He looked so sad, so unsure. / I lost me?/
"What? No, no." Jack pulled him in closer, blinking back the tears burning his eyes and wondering if, in some way, there might actually be a small amount of truth in the statement, even as he denied it. "No, you see, we got you right here, Mac." He tapped his chest over his heart. "Even though you might not be able to remember everything from before; me, Boze, Ri and Matty do. Think of us as your boxes for those memories, all right? We'll keep them safe for you until you can remember them on your own."
MacGyver tilted his head back on Jack's shoulder. / Keep?/
"You betchya. Hell, I remember this one time you made a trampoline fly."
Eyebrow cocked, MacGyver gave him a dubious look.
Jack barked out a laugh. "True story, man. I swear." He let MacGyver chew on that for a few moments before asking, "You wanna tell me something you can remember? I'll put it right here in my little heart box." Jack patted his chest and grinned down at him. "If not, that's okay." They never pressed. Never. In fact, they usually made it a point not to ask because of the stress it caused him. But today, today was different than most days.
His shoulders actually relaxed slightly before he curled back into Jack. / Remember.../
Jack waited patiently but eagerly as MacGyver searched for his words. It was not often that he was so open and communicative, especially about memories.
MacGyver thought for another long moment before signing, / You chase dark. You chase away. /
Jack's throat suddenly grew very tight. MacGyver associated the word "dark" with anything that caused him pain, or made him afraid. "You know it, and I always will. You know why?"
He tilted his head back on Jack's shoulder again. / I your boy / he signed matter-of-factly.
God, this kid. "No truer words, brother," Jack returned hoarsely, tears blurring his vision.
But MacGyver made a face, one of uncertainty. / Why I your boy? Why.../ He thought another moment before pressing his wrist against his chest and tapping his fist there twice. It was his way of saying something was important to his heart. It was his way of expressing love.
He was asking Jack why he loved him.
Heart punch. "Aw, now, that's an easy one, bub," Jack answered thickly, cupping the side of his face and brushing a thumb across his temple. "You chase away my dark, too." He then pulled him back in against his chest and kissed the top of his head. "You chase away my dark, too."