Hey there, everyone! Des back with some shenanigans. A lot of people were digging the AU I started over on my tumblr and paired with all the great stuff coming out of Cairo week in the fandom, got me motivated to write a little thing. I'm still really nervous about posting stuff but I got carried away with this.
So here's 4300 words of Demon!AU, and Mac's monster form can be found here: post/611995238264930304/demonmac-doodle-altschmerzes-thanks-for-the
along with a bit more info for the AU in general. Feel free to shoot me a message over on my tumblr if you're curious! I love talkin' about stuff like this.
"Farewell, gentlemen. May we meet again in the next life."
The sneers and laughter retreat, taking the only light with them and swallowing Mac and Jack's protests in the inky darkness. Jack swears and fumbles with his phone and Mac wants to tell him to stop, to save whatever battery power is left on the damn thing so if they do get out they can call for backup.
When, Mac reminds himself. When they get out. They're currently stuck in a deep pit in some ancient ruins in the middle of God knows where, but he's working on it. This whole mission has been taking a lot more improvisation than they usually do. Not that that's a terrible thing, mind you. Mac likes throwing stuff together on the fly, it's his job after all, but maybe someone could give them a bit of a break on this one. At least until they're out of this pit. If something else has to go wrong he'd prefer it go wrong where the sun is at least shining.
The dark though, it isn't the big problem. Mac can honestly deal with the dark just fine, and he's going to in a moment. The problem is they're in a giant hole. Whose walls are much too high for them to climb out safely without some sort of equipment. Which they don't have.
The lack of cell service is also an issue, just not an unexpected one.
One thing at a time, though.
Mac takes a steadying breath; gently in and out of his nose. Being unable to see what they're dealing with is the first problem, and the one he can handle immediately. It's just going to take a second of concentration. He digs inside his head and finds that wall; the one he once told Jack that feels like rubber, for lack of a better term, in an attempt to explain it, and pushes lightly.
"It's... a wall." Mac says.
Jack nods, confused but not about to make a fuss, simply affirming. "A wall."
Mac frowns, sighs. Lack of words is never usually a problem he has to deal with, but the subject isn't exactly something you can just look up on Google.
"Yes. A wall. It's strong. But more like... like rubber, I guess, because I can push at it and it will bend if I try hard enough. It always snaps back into place though. Like an elastic band. And it hurts when it bounces back."
He's hoping this time it won't lead to anything more than just a minor headache when the familiar burn washes over his eyes, but Mac is used to this kind of pain and doesn't want to admit how much he's used this ability while on missions. Being able to see in the dark is an advantage he accepts more readily than he probably should, but it's a skill he's not ashamed of.
Jack lets out a short cry of victory and the flashlight on his phone, while dim, lights a small diameter around him and he's about to say something until he turns towards Mac.
The light from the phone swings over Jack's partner, catches his eyes, and they glint like a coyote caught in a night vision camera. "Jesus." Jack breathes. "It always freaks me out when you do that. I keep telling you to warn me first."
Mac grins at him, obviously amused, and that cements the reality that Mac does this every time just to straight up mess with him. Honestly, though, apart from being a touch unnerving, Jack really doesn't mind. If anything he's kind of jealous of the kid. That doesn't stop Jack from messing with him just as much, though.
"Alright, ha ha you got me again. Now what are we dealing with here?" Jack says, turning slowly and allowing the faint light of his phone to catch on whatever it can. Which isn't much at all. And what it does catch doesn't look at all encouraging. From what he can see now and from before they had been tossed in here, the walls are fairly smooth and clean. The pit had been built with an unknown purpose in mind and chiseled to near perfection. Whoever had built it obviously wanted whatever they threw down here to stay put.
Jack can see Mac frowning in the dim light. Whatever he's seeing beyond the reach of Jack's phone apparently isn't any better.
"No handholds. No grooves. There are a few small holes here and there but I'm assuming those are from erosion and any small animals that've burrowed their way inside."
"Oh man, please don't tell me there are snakes in here. I got more than enough copperheads back home in Texas, thanks."
Mac snorts, "There aren't any copperheads here, Jack. Cobras and vipers are mo-,"
Jack cuts him off, "That's great, bud. That's fantastic. How about we stop talkin' about snakes. This day is already shit and I don't want to jinx it and get bit while we're stuck in a hole."
While Jack being worried about snakes is amusing, he's not entirely wrong. Getting bit by one would put a damper on the 'getting out of the hole' situation. Unfortunately, Mac doesn't have and can't see anything to work with. His earlier assessment is mostly correct: They have no ropes or climbing gear, and there isn't anything in here with them that could be of any use.
Jack is looking at him expectantly, encouragingly. Jack trusts him and believes he can find a way out of anything. That Mac is going to get them out of this.
Anxiety settles itself in the hollow of Mac's chest but he doesn't have the heart to tell Jack otherwise.
20 minutes pass by and within that time the gravity of the situation starts to really settle in. Jack's anxiety has built into a nervous energy and he's pacing the short diameter of the pit, stopping every now and then to run his hands along the walls in hopes they've somehow changed and he can finally climb them. He'd turned the phone off ten minutes earlier after Mac finally made the argument to conserve the battery. Jack isn't scared of the dark but not being able to see sure makes him more jumpy than he would be.
Mac's eyes are still tuned to the dark; a move he knows now is going to cost him later on. He can feel the soft pulsing of a headache already beginning to form, spreading from between his eyes to claw its way over his forehead. He pinches the bridge of his nose for what feels like the tenth time over the past five minutes in hopes the pressure would alleviate some of the pain. It doesn't, but the habit is ingrained at this point. He also can't switch it off. He's too busy continuously combing the walls to search for something, anything, he might have missed.
But Mac has gone over their predicament enough times to know that they're well and truly stuck. If he weren't so mad, Mac would almost give their enemies kudos. Not many people have fucked them over this badly. They might actually get away with it.
There is one solution that Mac has been pondering over. It's definitely not his ideal solution, nor is it one he thinks is going to actually work, but it's on the table. He's been poking and prodding at that wall inside of him for a while now, testing it, seeing how much he can push. It's not a lot. The more pressure he applies the more pain he's in when it comes snapping back. It's making his headache worse each time, and numbs his finger tips.
The first time he did it had been, on all accounts, an accident. Mac has chalked it up to emotions at this point; the more panicked and stressed he feels, the more malleable the wall and the more he can do. It had been Jack, about to get crushed by hundreds of pounds of concrete and steel, that had triggered it before. The fact that Jack had been about to die had caused the transformation that allowed Mac to save both of them. Mac has been thinking about it ever since, tentatively testing the boundaries to learn the rules. So far all he's learned is that if he pushes at the wall hard enough, he can do it. It's also going to hurt like a bitch after.
It's also the only option they have.
Jack stops immediately when Mac calls his attention. He looks hopeful. It twists Mac's stomach because he knows Jack isn't going to like this plan much one bit.
"You got something, hoss?"
Mac fidgets with the stone he'd picked up from the floor a moment ago. "I do."
"Great! Let's hear it. I'm more than ready to get outta th-"
"You remember Gamir?"
Jack stops, eyes narrowing in Mac's direction, "Yeah," he says, hesitantly, "What about it?"
The rock is discarded somewhere near Mac's feet. "I can get us out that way."
The older man frowns, 'What're you sayin?"
A frustrated growl slips past his lips and Mac stands up, "I'm saying I can try doing it again to get us out of here."
Jack raises his hands in a placating gesture,"Mac, you were laid up for 3 days after that happened, and that was only for the demon stuff. Are you sure that's a good idea?"
No, he's not sure.
"Doesn't matter. It's the only idea I got and the only way I can see us getting out of here. We have to get to that warehouse, Jack. They're planning something and we need to stop it."
Jack breathes a defeated sigh, running his right hand through his short hair, "If you're sure about this, hoss..."
Mac nods, "I'm sure. Or would you rather a cobra wander into our humble abode?" He sees the horrified face Jack makes in the dark and chuckles.
Even with the possibility of snakes, Jack still looks wary, but can see the moment he gives in. The man's shoulders sag in defeat and, in true Jack fashion, all he responds with is:
"Is there... anything I can do to help at all?"
The fact that Jack has offered is enough for Mac. Despite the dismal hand they've once again been dealt, and the lousy solution offered to fix it, all Jack cares about is helping Mac with whatever it is he needs. Mac has learned that this is almost second nature to him, that aiding others, aiding Mac, is just hardwired into Jack Dalton's core.
Mac can't help but smile fondly, but he shakes his head. "Appreciate it, but unfortunately the best thing you can do right now is to keep quiet. I'm still not one hundred percent sure what it is I'm even doing besides needing to focus. Also, maybe... move away."
In true Jack fashion, knowing that Mac can see everything he's doing in the dark, Jack simply salutes him and takes a step back to wait. Even though the odds are minimal at best, Jack trusts him. Mac swallows.
He can't let him down.
Jack still can't see shit in this pit, wouldn't be able to see his own hand if it were slapping him right in the face actually, so there's no way for him to actually get a look at Mac when he starts doing... whatever it is he's going to do to get them out of here. The first time it happened Jack straight up thought he was hallucinating on account of the doozy of a concussion he'd gotten himself when the building came crumbling down in Gamir. Almost died that day in fact. All Jack truly remembers is something big curling over his prone form, a mess of bright, blue feathers, and deadly looking teeth, before he woke up in the infirmary with Mac at his bedside.
The kid had looked like absolute shit then, with his pale skin and dark circles under his eyes, trembling from "a few pulled muscles" and mild nausea from the painkillers he'd been given. That's what he'd chalked it up to for Jack anyway. The truth was a lot harder to hear. Finding out your EOD tech had hulked out into a monster and saved your ass from being crushed by a building wasn't exactly something you could just nonchalantly explain. Proving it all had taken Mac a good portion of the next several days, in the form of much more minor instances and, looking back on it now, Jack feels terrible he'd forced the kid to do all that so soon after the initial transformation.
Teeth and claws are one thing, but having your whole body contort into something it most definitely should not be able to contort into is another entirely. It makes Jack's skin crawl just thinking about it, but imagining the kind of pain Mac's going to be in after it's all said and done is what worries him the most. The kid had said the first time was nothing, that the "wall" had pretty much bent itself. Jack hates the idea of what using force might do.
Luckily he can't see it for himself. Jack's not sure he even wants to be able to see it to be honest, so he considers the darkness a blessing this time.
Jack can't see, but he sure as hell can feel it when it starts.
Mac inhales sharply and suddenly there's a pressure in the air; a static that makes the hairs on Jack's arms and the back of his neck stand on end and his stomach drop. Anxiety spikes and without thinking, Jack makes a move forward to make sure Mac is OK.
"Don't."
A growl, low and imposing and sounding like it had come from two different people, stops Jack in his tracks. He knows that it's Mac there in the dark, can hear his friend's voice, but there's also something most definitely... not Mac, overlaid in the tone. Something that Jack is hesitant to admit actually freaks him out a little bit.
That's Mac. It's just Mac. It's-
Another jolt of that unexplainable electricity, a low whine, and suddenly there's a presence in the pit with Jack that is unmistakably larger and much more imposing. Jack gasps quietly and stumbles backwards into the wall as something soft brushes by his face. The sound of claws digging their way into the rock echoes in the gloom. The thing- no, Mac is breathing heavily from somewhere above him and his voice is strained when he asks Jack:
"Ready to go?"
The words are trapped in his throat and all he can do is nod mutely to the darkness. Something reaches out to grab him and Jack yelps.
"Shit, sorry. Should have said I was going to do that."
Jack wants to laugh, but all that comes out is a sharp sound bordering on hysterical. The hand (it's so much larger than a normal person's hand but what else could it be) reaches gently underneath Jack's left arm, is joined by a second one hooking under his right, and just like that he's lifted and held against a broad chest. It's soft, and Jack is stunned for a moment before he realizes what it is.
Feathers.
"Don't move around, I don't want to drop you."
Jack nods against the downy feathers and that's all Mac needs before they're moving. Up and out. They're not flying, though Jack can hear the unmistakable sound of wings batting the air to gain momentum as Mac digs a second set of claws straight into the sheer rock walls of the chasm. It's all interspersed with Mac panting, pained and wheezing, like he's been running a marathon for two days straight, but it only takes him about a minute tops to drag them both over the lip of the hole they had just been stuck in.
As soon as they're out, Jack is dropped to his feet, Mac steps away, and a low keening fills the enclosed space that shoots lightning straight into Jack's core. Whatever apprehension and fear he'd been feeling just a few moments before leaves him in a rush and all he can think about is making sure that the kid's in one piece.
"Mac? You alright, bud?"
Deep, ragged breathing is the only answer Jack gets.
"Mac...?" He tries again.
"It's fine just... psyching myself up to knock through this wall." Comes the breathless rumble. Jack's eyebrows shoot up nearly into his hairline.
"You're going to what?"
"They blocked the entrance when they left us here," Mac grunts, "The only way out is through."
The fact that Mac is about to bust through stone with his bare hands should surprise him, but considering he'd just been carried out of a pit by his partner who'd just transformed into something he still can't actually see is dampening Jack's reactions by just a smidge. But if he focuses enough he can make out a tiny sliver of light somewhere ahead of him.
Mac is right. Their only option is to go straight through.
Jack sighs. "Alright just... be careful, OK? You don't sound too great right now."
"Don't feel too great right now, if I'm being honest. But I'll be alright. After we get out of here we still need to get back to the city."
Damn. Jack hadn't even considered how they were going to do that. He'd been too preoccupied with step one. Steps 2 through whatever weren't even on his radar. Busting through the wall makes sense, but Jack isn't quite sure how they're going to get back into town unless the bad guys were generous and left them a vehicle before they'd bailed.
"How exactly are we getting back, by the way?"
The second the question leaves Jack's mouth he regrets it, because he can practically hear the smile spreading across Mac's face when he says:
"You'll see."
Oh, Jack sees all right.
The wall goes down with a crash, like it had been made of toothpicks instead of stone. Sunlight pours in through the crater along with a cloud of dust. Jack coughs and waves his hand around in front of him to dispel it faster, squinting as it burns his eyes. When enough of it has cleared and his vision adjusts properly to the sudden brightness and he can finally see, what greets him on the other side of the giant hole in the wall leaves him speechless.
Desert and fresh, open air.
But mostly the eight-foot-plus creature crouched in the rubble like a bull at the end of its charge. It's Mac; Jack would recognize that unruly mane of blond hair anywhere. Unfortunately that's where the similarities end and if Jack wasn't staring directly at it, he'd think himself hallucinating just like in Gamir.
The golden, helm-like skull glints in the sun. Imposing, curved horns follow the creature's head as it swivels back towards Jack. But it's the size of the pair of wings and deep blue of the feathers that washes a sense of awe over him. White spots cover the feathers that glitter like stars in the night sky when the light hits them.
"Ho-lee shit." Jack breathes.
The creature- Mac, he has to remind himself, that's Mac standing there, perks his pointed ears at attention in his direction that reminds Jack of a doberman. Mac cocks his head to the side and holds out his four arms hesitantly, and Jack almost laughs at how embarrassed his "Tah-dah?" sounds even though it's coming from an eight-foot tall creature with wings.
Mac pads closer. Huge, clawed feet digging in the sand. The height he has over Jack is impressive and imposing at the same time. When Mac looks down at him Jack sees the same large, sharp teeth from back then.
"That, uh... that really you, hoss?" He hates to ask but he sort of still can't believe what he's seeing.
That deadly maw opens. "Y-yeah. Yeah, it's me, Jack."
The right hand of Mac's smaller set of arms reaches out to Jack but stops short. The golden claws at the end of each fingertip look positively deadly and give Jack reason to pause.
Mac remains still. Waiting for Jack to move first.
When he does, the palm under Jack's hand is rough, but warm, and that's all the proof the older man needs to convince himself that this is real. That this is Mac. The long fingers curl gently around Jack's own. He feels the minor tremors running through each digit and frowns, mind instantly leaping back to the image of that sickly kid sitting by his hospital bed.
"How much longer can you keep this up?"
Mac's ears twitch, "Have to long enough to get us back to the city."
Right. Jack keeps forgetting about that part. "And you're gonna do that how?"
Mac lets go of his hand. The wings unfurling themselves from his back is Jack's answer.
"Seriously, dude?"
The flight back to Cairo is, honest to God, one of the most terrifying experiences of Jack's entire life. He's not afraid of heights. Planes, helicopter rides, and long trips on the DXS jet are things Jack Dalton actually enjoys. Those split second getaways when they scramble into exfil and out of a warzone? Adrenaline filled, but still enjoyable.
This? Dangling above cloud cover with no floor under you and only the grip of four, albeit strong, hands to keep you from crashing into the sand? Zero out of ten. Would NOT recommend. He feels like he's on the worst roller coaster ride of his life, stomach practically doing gymnastics in his gut. He wills himself not to hurl.
He has to shout to be heard over the wind and pounding wing beats. "You sure you know where you're going, bud?" It's the third time he's asked. But sue him, he's literally dangling who knows how high with his feet in the clouds. He's also not quite sure how Mac is able to see, considering he doesn't have any visible eyes.
"Yes, Jack." His partner grunts, "I can see where we are. Not much farther."
Thank God. Jack doesn't know how much more of this he can take. But something else suddenly occurs to him.
"Hey, uh, Mac?"
"What, Jack?"
"Aren't you afraid of heights?"
The "yes, Jack" is noticeably more tense and hissed through clenched teeth. Jack stops talking.
It's when they're beginning their slow descent to a secluded area just outside of Cairo that Jack feels the tremors getting worse.
They run down Mac's arms and hands and straight into where they're holding tightly to Jack for what feels like dear life. The gasping sound of Mac's breathing is a lot more pronounced, air wheezing through those dagger-like teeth. Jack desperately hopes at least some of it is due to the effort of carrying Jack and flying at the same time. That it's just exhaustion.
But when Jack is dropped unceremoniously from five feet above the roof of the abandoned building Mac had assured was safe to land on, he knows it's anything but.
He lands hard, but on his own feet. Jack looks back up just in time to see Mac's wings falter and he crashes the rest of the way down with a great thud, collapsing on his hands and knees on the roof.
"Mac!" Jack skids to a stop at his shoulder, right hand tangling in feathers that tremble and rustle like the leaves on a great tree.
"J-Jack." Mac's rumbling voice pants. His twin tails twitch along the ground in agitated sweeps, tracking sand in great arcs.
"You did great, kid. We made it back. Come on back now, alright?" Jack pitches his voice low, calm, kneading his hand along Mac's shoulder in a soothing motion, trying to ignore the way it shakes and twitches.
It happens almost instantly. A low whine drags itself from Mac's throat the same time the feathers burst away in a whirlwind of blues and fade away into nothing in the air. His form seems to shimmer and melt. Shrinking back to normal in seconds.
Jack lets out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, kneels, and squeezes Mac's human shoulder once before running it along his shaking back. Jack can't help but think about how lucky it is that Mac's clothes have remained intact through all this. He'll chalk it up to more Demon Magic bullshit. If Bruce Banner can keep a pair of purple shorts, he's not going to question it.
"You're ok, bud."
Mac's left hand snakes up, fingers twisting in the material of Jack's shirt as he tries to catch his breath. A stream of nonsense pours from Jack's mouth then, words of comfort and quiet praise as he continues to rub circles in shaking shoulders.
The blond suddenly retches once, startling Jack. Then twice. Mac spits only bile into the sand.
When it's over, Mac finally straightens himself, untangling his hand from their vice grip in Jack's shirt. He's still shaking, but he's managed to get his breathing under control at least. Taking slow, even breaths. In through his nose, out of his mouth in soft, barely audible, puffs.
"You with me now?" Jack asks, hand still hovering over Mac's back.
Mac nods once, swallows, "Yeah. S-sorry about that."
Jack snorts and shakes his head, "Kid, you don't have anything to be sorry for. You just saved our asses from dyin' in a pit out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and got us back to civilization all in one piece. Thanks for that by the way," He adds, helping Mac to his feet. He's still a bit unsteady and Jack can't help but be reminded of a foal getting it's legs under it for the first time.
"Don't mention it." Mac says, stepping away from Jack once he's certain he can keep his feet under him. He still looks like he's about one strong gust of wind away from toppling over and Jack keeps his arm out just in case; reassuring Mac if he does go down again that Jack is here to catch him, same as he's been doing from the start.
Demon or not.