Author's Note - I read a while back that in the original version of The Rising, after Lake Como Jack bailed and Mac had to go get him to come back to DXS. I've had so much fun playing with other stuff they never aired, I decided to play with that here. I also tapped in my OC Elliot to help me bridge the gap. Don't worry though. The guys will be back together soon. Hope you enjoy ~ J
"Hey, Jack. It's me. Again. Give me a call, okay?"
He was about to end the call, but couldn't just let it go at that.
"Thornton said you resigned. And now I can't get you on the phone. I'm … just call me."
He thumbed the End button and tossed his phone aside on the bed. He sighed. Then he flopped over on the mattress. "Ow," he grumbled to the empty room.
He was already going a little stir crazy, and now combined with Jack's strange ghosting, he was ready to climb the walls. Fortunately Bozer was at work this afternoon, so he didn't have the added wrinkle of his friend fussing over him incessantly, talking a blue streak, and mentioning Jack's conspicuous absence on an endless loop. Say nothing about his concerted effort to see to it that his suddenly sedentary best friend gained thirty pounds of pure carbs.
At first, Jack stopped by every day. He didn't stay long, which was unusual, but he'd made reasonable excuses like having to go to DXS to get through the debrief, and a few times even a headache from the knock he'd taken in Italy.
Then after about a week, it dropped off to him just calling. Then it was just texting. Mac hadn't made much of it, mostly because his respiratory infection flared back up and he'd been pretty miserable. He'd slept most of the day for the better part of the week.
Now, in the third week since coming home, it had been three days since he'd had so much as a text from Jack. When he'd gone to DXS this morning, just to hit the infirmary to make sure his lungs were now clear, Thornton told him Jack resigned. She hadn't even waited for him to register the shock before she started nudging him about coming back to work, "On at least a limited basis until you can start physical therapy. Crisis counseling could do you a world of good right now, Mac, and we have people available..."
The fact that she'd shown up at DXS Medical to play twenty questions got under his skin. He'd told her again, very firmly, he needed some time. He wasn't interested in talking with a counselor, either. He'd do the mandatory psych eval when he applied for clearance. He'd let her know when he was ready to do that.
She'd gotten ruffled and said his return should be on the DXS doctor's timeline and that she and the doctor agreed counseling should be part of his treatment plan and would help them establish that timeline. Mac said until he was ready to deal with DXS again, he'd use his own doctor. Then he left.
He'd tried to call Jack about ten times. So far no luck. He was tempted to just go over to Jack's place, but if Boze found out he'd driven himself, there'd be Hell to pay. Boze had dropped him off this morning at the "think tank" and Mac had gotten an Uber home. Because he was still supposed to be immobilizing that side. He could always get another rideshare, but he just wasn't sure enough of his emotions at the moment that he really wanted to ride all the way across town and back with a stranger.
The doorbell rang and Mac struggled to get up, pulling on the sling he was supposed to be wearing all the time so as not to jostle those ribs or the bullet wound. He was half hoping it was Jack, although he knew who to expect based on the time and the call he'd made in the car on his way back here.
He opened the door and greeted the tall man on his steps. "Hey, Elliot. Good to see you."
Elliot shook his head, smirking. "Good to see some things never change."
"Huh?" Mac asked as he let Elliot inside and closed the door behind them.
"Your sling is all twisted, which I can only assume means you pulled it on in a hurry when I rang the bell."
"Um…"
"That's what I thought."
"I was laying down."
"Sure. And I like living patients who bullshit me. I just work as an ME because I like the hours."
Mac chuckled as he led the way to the living room. "I'm not calling you away from any interesting corpses by asking for a favor, am I, Dr. Mathers?"
Elliot sat in one of the comfortable chairs off to the side of the coffee table, largely so he could observe how Mac was moving. "Just the usual. I'm working my notice anyway."
"You're leaving the crime lab?" Mac asked, sitting against carefully arranged cushions and throw pillows on the sofa.
"Miles didn't tell you?"
"We talked the other day, but mostly he was checking up on me and giving me the third degree about catching a bullet. And asking if I was gonna make it out his way for the wedding."
"Are you?"
"Of course! I'm not gonna miss Eggs' wedding. He wants me to stand up with him."
Elliot nodded. He'd wondered if Miles would ask, knowing what Mac had lost in Italy. Mac looked so pleased, he was glad Miles had gone through with it.
"I don't suppose it surprises you much that it was a cover. One I no longer need. Time for a change. We're going to be working together. Officially. Instead of just bailing you out on the down low."
Mac looked genuinely curious. "For the Agency?" Then he quickly added, "It's okay if you can't say."
Elliot smirked again. "Not for the Agency. But that's Miles' tale to tell."
"Knowing both of you, I can't wait to hear it."
"I hope I'm there for the telling."
Elliot paused. Mac wasn't much for small talk. Usually. Perhaps he wasn't getting right to the point about his injury and why he needed a favor because he felt like doing so would mean he'd have to rehash the circumstances surrounding it. Since most of Elliot's patients never talked at all, he didn't particularly feel that was important. Besides, Miles had already filled him in.
"So, much as I enjoy your company, I do have some of my other patients waiting back at the office." Mac shook his head but managed most of a smile. "I mean, they're on ice, but even they won't wait forever."
Mac cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'm sorry to bother you like this again, but…" He trailed off, frowning.
"I thought you were pretty solid with DXS these days. So I was a little surprised you called looking to borrow my services. You didn't up and quit again, did you?" He knew what was going on with Mac from Miles (in fact he'd known over a week ago when Miles called him about their friend), but he thought it would be better if he didn't own up to discussing Mac behind his back.
"I … Not exactly. I'm kind of taking a leave of absence."
Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Officially?"
Mac shifted uncomfortably, but Elliot sensed his injury wasn't the cause of it. "Not exactly."
Elliot stayed quiet. It was better to let Mac decide what to say, and how much. "I, uh, I had kind of a relapse. I mean … I had pneumonia when I left the hospital after…" He swallowed hard and ran his free hand through his hair. "After I got shot." He waited to see if Elliot would ask for more details about the how and the why, but he didn't. Mac relaxed fractionally. "And I thought I was doing okay. But I got a fever again and…"
"And your partner dragged your ass to the infirmary?" Elliot prompted when Mac trailed off again.
"No, I … I haven't seen Jack lately." He cleared his throat and winced just a little. He supposed he should take it as a good sign that things had improved enough that he forgot some things would still hurt. "I didn't want to wind up back in the hospital. I went in and got different antibiotics. And I've been taking them," he added almost defensively.
Elliot just continued to look interested. No Jack. Huh.
"I went back this morning, you know, just to make sure things are clearing up. And." He stopped and took a breath. He realized he was actually still kind of pissed off. "Thornton showed up. In the infirmary. Which would have been bad enough. But she just walked right into the exam room and started basically interrogating me about … everything."
"And?"
"And I decided to take a break. I told her I'd be back in when I was ready. She dragged the doc into the conversation, too. I told her I'd go to my own doctor instead of using the infirmary."
"Which you don't actually have."
"Hasn't come up." This time Mac flashed a grin and it looked reasonably genuine. "But I guess if you're working your notice, I better find one. Because I'm not walking back into DXS before I'm good and ready."
"I gave two months. Professional courtesy. Not that I don't think you should maybe avail yourself of the services of a doc who isn't tied to your job. But I think I can get you out the other side of this."
"You sure?"
"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't."
"I appreciate it."
Elliot sat back, arms folded, giving Mac a speculative look. "You're moving okay, considering. And you saw the DXS doc today. I get hedging your bets and wanting to make sure you've got somebody to keep an eye on your recovery absent trying to explain to some civilian in a white coat that you caught a bullet. Getting shot in the chest is a big deal, even without complications. And you had some, with the broken ribs, and your lung collapsing."
That was a lot more detail than Mac gave Elliot on the phone. He hadn't told Miles that much either. "How did you…?"
"Please. Like I wasn't going to find out what I was getting myself into before I came over here."
Mac frowned. "No, I get that. I was surprised that you didn't ask more questions. But I meant more like … actually how."
Elliot grinned. "I could say it's that I'm the American James Bond, but the truth is I got Viz to pull your records."
"Viz hacked DXS? Does Miles know his sister is going to wind up in Federal prison?" he asked incredulously.
"First of all, Miles knows exactly what Viz is up to. She's working for him these days. And second of all, she didn't hack DXS. She pulled your records from Switzerland."
"Stalkers," Mac said with a snort.
"As I was saying," Elliot continued. "You clearly don't need immediate medical attention. So…"
Mac hesitated. Why had he called Elliot today? It would have kept. He concluded he was just being careful. "I figured it'd be better to talk to you sooner rather than later. Especially after last week. I really thought I was doing okay, then wham, fever."
Elliot shook his head. "I'm not buying it."
"I … what do you mean?"
"We could have talked about it over the phone, set something up for next week maybe. You asked me to come over today. And I'm starting to think you don't even know why you did it."
Mac shrugged, clearly at something of a loss. "I don't…"
"You want to know what your partner is doing. And you don't want him to know you're looking. And you're in no shape to do your own spy thing without him catching on. You don't necessarily want Dr. Mathers. You're looking for Elliot the intelligence asset."
Mac looked a little sheepish. "I mean. I didn't really … Okay, I guess that honestly crossed my mind, too, but I wasn't gonna ask."
"Having a world class spook as a friend has a few perks. I'll find out what he's up to."
Mac relaxed more fully. "I'd really appreciate it. He … I don't think he's dealing with … stuff."
"Blaming himself for you getting tagged?"
Mac swallowed. "And other things." He frowned. "You already know about Nikki. Miles told you."
No point in denying it. "You're sharp, Mac." Elliot leaned forward, searching Mac's face. "How are you doing? With all that?"
Mac shrugged.
Elliot wasn't going to let him off the hook though. And he could spot a lie from twenty meters away. Mac knew that all too well from the last time Elliot has helped him out with an injury. He couldn't even fudge his pain level in a minor way without getting called out for it.
He sighed. "Not great. She … I was..." His voice caught. He took a slow deep breath. It hurt, but it was focusing. "I loved her, Elliot. I was thinking of … not like right away … asking her to …" He stopped again. It didn't need saying. "But I'm not blaming myself."
"You sure?"
Mac actually thought about it. "I am." He sighed again. "And I'm not blaming Jack. But I'm worried he thinks so. On top of blaming himself."
Elliot just looked at him for a long minute. Mac realized in the silence that what he'd said was true. He wasn't blaming himself. Or Jack. He just wanted to get back to normal and he wasn't sure how to do it.
Elliot read some of it in Mac's face. "Okay. I'll find out what's going on with him and swing by to give you a report. And since it was your flimsy cover story to get me over here, I'll be your fill-in bandaid again until you find somebody local or decide you're speaking to Thornton again. Sound alright with you?"
"Yeah. Yeah it does." Sometimes Mac had a hard time believing Elliot really wasn't good with living patients. He'd seen to the core of Mac's pain and figured out what he needed even though Mac hadn't been especially conscious of those needs himself. "Thanks, man."
"You're welcome. You do plan on being a halfway decent patient, right?" he teased, mostly looking for a reaction.
Mac rolled his eyes. "I called you, didn't I?"
It wasn't quite the good natured sheepish acknowledgement of his overly self-contained tendencies Elliot was looking for, but it was pretty close.
"I suppose you did."
Elliot got up to leave. He really did have a backlog to clear before he left town. Los Angeles wasn't the most peaceful city. "I'll drop in on Saturday. Unless anything comes up before then."
Mac followed him to the door. "You mean if Jack's in trouble."
He laughed lightly. "No, I mean if you start running a fever again or something, genius. You might not have actually wanted one when you called, but you've got yourself a doctor. And Miles would take it very personally if I let you go and die on me."
This time Mac's eyeroll and accompanying chuckle seemed very normal.
"Okay, but…"
"If Jack were really in trouble, what're the odds it wouldn't be on the news?"
Elliot was joking, but Mac was actually starting to get really worried. "You'll call me though? If he is in trouble?"
Elliot stopped and faced him fully. "I will. He's a hell of a guy to have watching your back. But I don't think he realizes sometimes someone needs to watch him."
"Exactly," Mac said with something like relief.
"Since Jack isn't here's to say so, I will." Elliot put on an Overwatch worthy expression. "Finish those meds DXS sent home with you."
"I don't half ass antibiotics, Elliot."
"Good. Get some rest, but not too much. Walking is okay; good even."
Mac nodded but didn't reply. He hadn't felt like doing much of anything. He was mildly irked that Elliot could obviously tell.
"Eat like a person and not a lab rat."
Mac managed a smile this time. "Bozer is making sure of that."
"Good." Elliot opened the door to leave. "And for pity's sake wear the damned sling like you're supposed to. At least until I figure out how to get some current xrays. I can probably use my buddy Kirk's machine."
"You've got an orthopedist friend who'll lend you his X-ray machine?"
Elliot laughed. "Not exactly. Kirk's a forensic anthropologist."
Mac sighed. "I really don't want to go hang out in one of your corpse labs for X-rays."
Elliot grinned. "My advice then? Don't get shot."
"Good advice," he replied wryly.
"I didn't fail to notice how you ignored me saying wear your damned sling."
Mac shook his head, but he smirked and he felt almost normal. "I'll do my best."
"Right," Elliot replied with a shake of his head as Mac closed the door.
But as he walked away, he was half smiling. Miles had been pretty worried about Mac when they'd spoken last week. In fact, if Mac hadn't called him today, he'd have found a reason to stop by.
For a random guy who'd gotten shot in the chest about a month ago, he looked pretty good. For Mac though? He was pale, and he didn't look like he'd been sleeping much. His grief shone out of his blue eyes like a spotlight. But, there'd been flashes of his usual self as they'd talked. And the slightly joking pushback about the sling had felt 100% normal.
The smirk he'd flashed had some real amusement behind it, and it had touched those devastated eyes for a second. He was healing. It would take some time. Miles said, and Elliot had known him for long enough to believe it was true, that Mac look losses deeply to heart. But he was a survivor.
Elliot got out his phone and dialed. "Hey ... He's doing okay. Not great but okay … He wants me to check up on Dalton … Says he hasn't been around, isn't answering his phone … Excellent. Tell Viz I'll owe her one … I'm headed back to the lab. Got a floater that isn't going to fingerprint herself."
0-0-0
Jack Dalton had the distinct impression that he was being watched. He'd felt like that a lot lately. Those guys getting the drop on him in Italy, because he'd made a goddamned rookie mistake and forgotten to "check six", had really gotten in his head.
He kept having hideous nightmares about it. He had some nasty bruises on his knees from falling out of bed from them. His therapist (not massage - and he was still weirdly grateful to Mac for not contradicting him when he'd said so) had some theories as to why his dreams had taken on a physical component. But he didn't want to talk about it. He just wanted it to stop.
His lack of sleep and the poor quality of what he was getting was making him angry and paranoid. Or at least he was willing to blame the sleep issues on that. Sissy had asked casually, in that infuriating way she had that always seemed to touch exactly the nerve that would set him off, if he could think of any other reasons for his anger or that might explain why he felt watched.
He'd gotten pissed and made it almost to the lobby before he got a handle on it. When he got back to her office she just asked if he'd rather finish their session with a walk in the park behind the building. He just nodded. Sitting with his back to her door had been making him edgy.
He'd walked away from the rest of their talk with a prescription he was familiar with. It didn't do much to you other than stop trauma dreams. But since the dreams were the only issue he was comfortable addressing, they'd start there.
He'd been pretty ragged when he'd shown up for his appointment anyway. He hadn't slept at all in the two nights since he'd hit the floor so hard he'd thought he broke something. Then Bozer had called him. He'd kind of lined Jack out for not being over to see Mac. And he'd said Mac was sick again. To hear Bozer tell it, Mac had barely been able to get out of bed and had been nearly impossible to get back to the doctor.
Jack hadn't been over because he didn't want Mac to see him limping around on his bruised knees or how he was so sleep deprived it looked like someone had decked him in both eyes, didn't want the kid to worry about him.
He scrolled through his recent texts. Mac hadn't mentioned not feeling well, had given Jack every indication he was doing okay. So okay that Jack almost called a couple of times just to see how the kid sounded, but every time he thought of talking to Mac, he just kept hearing his voice as he'd lay in his hospital bed in Switzerland looking paler than the gown he wore asking brokenly, "Did they find her?" Every time that replayed in Jack's head, he felt like he was going to break down. And he didn't want Mac to have to hear that.
Ultimately, he didn't call because he felt like he'd let Mac down. Sure, he felt real bad about Nikki. But, if he was honest, he only felt as bad as he did about it as he did because it hurt Mac. But a millimeter either way and Mac could have been dead. And to Jack that was unforgivable.
And now Mac hadn't been honest with him about how he was doing. Seemed to him that meant maybe Mac didn't want him around.
It didn't occur to Jack that Mac might have been surprised by his illness. Nor did Jack remind himself that Bozer often exaggerated when he was worried. He just used it as the shovel to dig himself a deeper guilt whole.
Then he'd had a run in with Thornton. She asked him to come back to work to help try to track the canister, or to go out on missions as personal security for another agent. If Jack got back to normal, perhaps Mac would be motivated to do so as well.
Jack had then turned over the form from Dr. Miller denying him psych clearance. From her expression she already knew he hadn't been cleared. She'd just wanted to push him into admitting it. Then she suggested gently that he wasn't cleared for field work, but perhaps he should take up his role as Overwatch again, since Mac was still a bit rocky. Jack has declined that too, and hightailed it out of her office for an appointment with Sissy, who'd known through her therapist's voodoo that he was fresh off a conflict.
The meds were helping with the dreams. But nothing else seemed to be better. The sense that he was being watched, followed, kept up. It had been made worse by Thornton "bumping into" him on several occasions. After the last time, at the liquor store of all the places, he'd quit. He wasn't interested in dealing with the pressure from her.
Besides he had a job offer. One of the guys from his high school football team was a producer. It was some crappy little start up. But they'd, What the hell had he said?, acquired a pilot they were excited about. And they needed a military consultant. He was also open to hiring Jack for some stunt work. Telling Jack he could use Colt Seavers as his stage name had sealed the deal.
Today, Jack was out for a walk. Well, less a walk and more an on foot mission to get a greasy egg sandwich from the place up the street from his apartment. He had a real bitch of a hangover, he was out of anything resembling real food. And he couldn't find his keys. When he'd finally reached a pleasant level of numb last night, he'd hidden his own keys. Usually if Jack had a lapse in substance related judgment, Mac was around. And Mac would always hide his keys, just in case drunk Jack brain decided it was a good idea to go out to buy more booze.
Problem was, Mac was always sober, well, sober enough to remember where the keys were the next day. Jack had no idea where Drunk Jack had hidden his keys. And if he was going to go to the … production planning meeting (or something like that) … he needed coffee and eggs. Mac had explained one time that eggs were like scientific hangover kryptonite. Jack couldn't remember why they helped, but his experience said that, as usual, Mac's ginormous science brain was right on the money.
Jack glanced over his shoulder again, wincing as the moon sunlight light splintered on the cars behind him and felt like it was stabbing directly into his bourbon soaked skull.
He could almost hear Mac throwing one of his favorite tv quotes at him. "Classic case of space dementia, all paranoid and crotchety. Ya hate to see it."
Almost like he'd summoned him, Mac called ack at almost exactly that moment. Jack let it go to voicemail for perhaps the fifteenth time this week. But, as he had every time, he immediately listened to the message.
Just checking in, pal. Hope you're doing okay. Then, blowing Jack's previous story that he didn't want Jack to know what was going on with him, Mac added, I've been having a hell of a time shaking this stupid infection. I've been in bed all day wishing I had a copy of Die Hard. Anyway … give me a call when you can.
Jack sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. Unfortunately his reflexes and coordination were as hungover as the rest of him, and his phone dropped onto the sidewalk. He bent to retrieve it and when he stood up, a dark haired, slightly lanky, man that Jack had to look up at was standing in his way. It was such a surprise, it took a second for recognition to register. "Mathers."
Suddenly feeling watched made more sense.
"Dalton."
Elliot's greeting was reasonably friendly. Jack's wasn't.
"You been following me?"
Elliot started walking. In spite of himself, Jack fell into step beside him. Elliot finally answered. "I have been a little."
"I knew it," he growled. "Mac ask you to?"
"Last week he asked me to make sure you were okay."
"You've been following me for a week?" That explained a lot.
"Just this morning, Jack."
"Oh." Okay, that blew that idea.
"And before you decide to never speak to Mac again some more," Elliot gave him a look Jack didn't quite know how to interpret. "He had nothing to do with me coming out here to buy you breakfast to soak up some of the cheap bourbon that you're sweating out."
Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Elliot just opened the door to the diner on the corner.
They got a table and ordered. Elliot just got an orange juice, but Jack ordered half the breakfast menu. Their conversation was fairly pleasant while the waitress was coming and going with their beverages and orders. Jack told Elliot about his job, pretended his hangover was an odd occurrence, and then got around to asking carefully, "So you've seen Mac?"
"I have. Unlike his partner."
Jack sighed. "I'm not his partner anymore. I quit DXS."
"Yeah. Thornton told him. Which you know because he's called you." Elliot gave him another significant look. "And since when has not working together stopped either of you from looking out for the other?"
Jack looked down into his coffee cup. "I didn't exactly do a great job looking out for him. He doesn't need me …"
"False." Elliot's expression became sharper. "The mission went tits up a long time before Mac or his girlfriend got shot. Inadequate intel, minimal resources, no backup exfil in place … Thornton screwed up. You guys were just stuck picking up the pieces. And Mac figured that out by the time you made it stateside."
"So … um … He's doin' alright?"
"He's had better days. Took a leave from DXS so I've been keeping an eye on him. I guess he won't be too pissed if I tell you, he's still fighting off an infection. He'll be okay. Think we've finally got it figured out. I've hooked him up with a colleague who's a much better doctor than I am."
"That's good, I guess." Still struggling with his injuries must be awful for the kid. It had to be keeping the incident in the forefront of his mind.
"He's hurting in other ways, Jack. Which you must know. He'd appreciate at least a phone call if you can't work on the courage to go see him right now."
"I don't know."
Elliot let Jack eat in silence for a few minutes.
The next time he caught the older man shooting him a furtive glance between bites, Elliot returned the gaze very seriously. "He doesn't seem to think you let anybody down. And while you're busy punishing yourself by drowning your sorrows and spending all your time alone in an increasingly trashed apartment, you're also punishing your best friend. Dumbass."
Jack sighed and took another drink off coffee. "What's it to you anyway?"
Elliot finished his juice. "I've known Mac long enough to count him a friend." He got out his wallet, counted out the check, and left a generous tip. "And until this morning when I got to hand him over to someone who's actually decent with the livening, he was my patient. And maybe him losing sleep over you and your radio silence isn't why he's still having a hard time with his recovery. But maybe it is." Elliot stood and gave him a very significant raise of his eyebrows. "It's not doing you any favors either, Dalton."
Jack frowned. "Maybe."
"Let him know you're okay. Let him know you still give a damn that he's okay."
"I …"
"He'll understand if you tell him you can't deal right now. He's Mac."
Jack nodded, just enough to be seen.
"Just call him."
Elliot didn't wait for Jack to say anything. He just left the diner and headed back to work.
Jack stared into his coffee for a few minutes.
Finally, he got out his phone and dialed.
"Hey, kid. How ya doin'?"
