Tag to S03E06 – Murdoc, MacGuyver – Alternate ending

Murdoc is arrested, Nasha is saved. All's well ends well. But the whole leaving his friends thing didn't feel right to me to begin with, and Nasha being so normal about it all afterwards gave me a nice moment to bundle some ideas into an alternative ending. In which Mac is finally realizing his actions were wrong, he tries to numb out the feelings and it leads to some hurt/comfort.

Mac was so relieved to see Nasha in his living room, unharmed, safe. He hurried over to her and took her in his arms. He felt her warm and soft skin, her breath on his chest. Her scent made him feel safe. Adrenaline was fading slowly and he relaxed, letting out a deep sigh that he had seemed to be holding the entire day. She was finally here, with him.

But then he noticed. Something was off. She felt different: stiffly, distant, not like back at home. He could imagine why: she had been lied to by Murdoc, kidnapped, put in a room where the oxygen had been sucked out. Jack and Bozer had gotten her out without harming her, but mentally, she might still feel the effects.

Even Lois Lane knew the dangers of dating Superman. What Murdoc had told him in the interrogation room had been going round in his head ever since. He was going to have to take care of her, make her feel safe with him. But he'd make sure no one was going to harm her again.

Nasha suddenly pulled away slightly, hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to stay in the embrace or leave his arms. He just kept holding her, letting her decide what she wanted. After a moment, she did pull back and locked eyes with him.

Her look startled him. She was crying, tears running down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Her eyes showed the pain she was in. She was struggling with something, and although it made sense that she had to process her trauma, there was something else bothering her.

'What's wrong?' he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She took a small step back, not out of reach, but far enough for him to understand the message. He let his hand fall back by his side, trying not to wince at the mental stab it caused him. She took a deep breath. He tried to figure out what she was going to say, played scenarios in his head, but couldn't see what he had done wrong.

'It's been a pretty crazy day,' she started, sniffing once before continuing. 'And you know that I love you, right?'

He instantly felt nervous. He'd heard this beginning of a talk before, several times. And they hadn't ended well.

'What is it?' he asked again. She took another deep breath.

'I think I need to go.'

'But.. you can stay here, Bozer is cool with that, and-'

'I know,' she interrupted him, putting a hand on his chest. It normally calmed him to feel her touch, but right now it felt wrong. 'But all this, and you… I just need some time on my own. Just to think.'

He felt his stomach clench and he tried to breathe through the discomfort. His mind seemed frozen. He took her hand and was relieved she let him.

'But you're safe now.'

She nodded. 'I know. Thank you.' She took back her hand and gave him a piece of paper. He saw it was an address and room number.

She folded his hand around it. 'I'll be staying there, but I need some time now, okay?'

He didn't know what to say. He wanted to explain everything and make her feel safer and hold her now that she was physically here. But he knew he couldn't talk her doubts away.

She took his head in her hands and kissed him on the lips, a soft, short kiss. It meant she did still love him, but also that she didn't know what she wanted right now.

She took another deep breath and picked up her bag. He hadn't even seen it there when he had walked in. He had only seen her, finally here, and now he was watching her leave.

He didn't try to grab her hand when she walked past him. Everything in his body wanted him to, but he knew it wouldn't help. It probably would only make things worse. He wanted her to feel safe with him, and it would be stupid to try and force things. Then again, it felt like he wasn't even trying to stop her.

He turned around when he heard her open the door. She glanced back, eyes tearing up again. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, then she changed her mind. She looked away, stepped through the door and quietly pulled it shut behind her. It still sounded as if she had slammed it, the noise echoing through the now empty house. He stared at the door, waiting for it to reopen. But it didn't. He heard a car door slam, and someone drive away. Then there was only silence.

He stood still for a few minutes, just staring at the door, until his body finally recovered from the mental blow. He took a few deep breaths as he walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, but he stopped near the counter. He fought off a sniff, feeling the tears in the corners of his eyes, and pulled open the fridge instead, taking out a cold beer. He needed something to take the edge off.

He sank back onto the couch, the beer gripped tight, as he replayed the good times, the bad times, and then the conversation over and over again, wondering what he should've done to make her stay.

Perhaps Murdoc had been right with his twisted way of saying she would never really be safe with him. The life he led, the dangers he and organization often ended up in, that was no place for her. Her life was back at home, not here. He should never have left. But too much had been going on. He loved Nasha, but Jack was his brother, and Jill his friend. She had to have understood that, right?

Mac finished the whole beer in one go and closed his eyes. All his decisions had been wrong, starting with him leaving the Phoenix Foundation. He still didn't feel like working with or for his father, but it had been a stab in the back of his friends. Then another, when he had left without saying anything. And another, when he left again with only as much as the note.

He got another beer from the fridge but didn't go to the couch again. Instead, he just leaned against the counter, staring at his living room. Not much had changed here, he had noticed. Bozer hadn't gotten rid of his stuff, had only moved some of his things and added a few of his own. His excitement and commitment to Mac hadn't changed either, although Mac had done enough to give him every reason to.

The second beer went in just as quick. He could tell an empty stomach from not eating all day was making the alcohol kick in harder. Jack had often teased him how he could not hold his liquor at all anyway, but now even these two beers gave him the familiar buzz that numbed the sharpness of his pain. Jack would've laughed at him for this.

Jack. Another of his family that he had hurt with his actions. Mac had felt awful for leaving him and had planned to call him right after he had landed, but there had been so much to do in the village, and by the time the first night fell, Nasha had already been the only thing on his mind. Jack had never given up on him, flooding his phone with messages and e-mails, and yet Mac had ignored every one of them. Not on purpose, at first, but he just hadn't known what to do or what to say. Eventually, it had felt normal not to respond. Nasha had been there and that was all he had needed.

But now he had driven everyone away from him. His friends tried to act normal around him, but he still felt it.

Mac cursed softly, feeling his eyes water. He took a deep breath, his mind giving him rational options to deal with it, but he was tired and hungry and not at all strong enough to fight off the emotions. So, instead of doing the smart thing, he tuned out the wise voice in his head and pulled open the fridge for another cold beer. If he couldn't store the feeling away, he could at least numb them out, and then perhaps he'd have better plan to fix things.

A sound in the living room startled Jack awake. His hand immediately felt for his gun and he grasped it tight, already on high alert. Someone was trying to get into his apartment, he knew, judging by the sounds. Whoever it was, he wasn't doing a very good job. And whoever it was, he was going to regret trying to break in here.

Jack looked around for his phone and noticed on the alarm clock it was almost 3 AM. Someone was really going to regret waking him up so late. He went for his nightstand to find his phone when the noise in the living room got louder. Glass shattered, the door probably smashed in when the lock couldn't be picked. Jack grit his teeth at the thought of the previous break-in. No way in hell were they going to steal anything from him again.

His gun raised, he tiptoed to the living room. He kept the lights off as he knew his way blindly anyway. He didn't really need to be quiet, the sound of someone stepping onto glass made enough noise for the perp not to hear him. It took him not even half a minute to make his way over. He paused at the wall, took a deep, calming breath and then jumped around the corner, gun steady and outstretched.

'Don't move or I'll shoot!' he shouted at the dark figure near the door. The person, who had only just stepped inside, froze, one hand on the handle. Jack stepped closer when the man moved to the right, seeming to duck low. Jack fingered the trigger, his eyes finally adjusting so he could see where to shoot the bastard.

'W-wait!'

He was barely in time to pull back his finger and lower his hands when he recognized the voice. He knew it was him before he flicked on the light switch.

'Mac? What the hell, I almost shot you!'

The kid flinched and momentarily Jack felt bad, until he remembered Mac had literally broken into his place. For some reason, Mac's lockpicking-skills hadn't been good enough anymore, so he had decided to just smash the glass. He was standing on the shards, his shoes thankfully protecting his feet. Jack saw he was leaning sideways, holding onto the door handle with a tight grip. Something was off.

Jack stepped closer, the lights in the room finally not blinding his sight anymore. He could see his friend clear now.

'What's wrong buddy.' The words had only barely left his mouth when he realized the state his friend was in, and he didn't waste time waiting for an answer. He carefully tossed the gun on the coffee table and hopped from couch to couch until he reached his friend, avoiding the glass that would definitely cut open his bare feet. He carefully took Mac by the shoulders and the kid looked up.

He was deathly pale, eyes sunken into their sockets. They looked at him unfocused, shifting every second, as if he couldn't get the fuzzy images before him to sharpen. He tried squinting at him, but Jack could tell it didn't make a difference.

'Sorry 'bout your door,' Mac said, slurring all the words together. He waved his arms to point at the mess he had made. In doing so, he lost his balance, and he tipped forward. Jack had to pull him to the couch to prevent him from faceplanting in glass shards.

Mac grabbed Jack's shirt, fingers twisting awkwardly into the fabric. Jack swore he could hear it tear when Mac put his full weight into it. Mac stumbled onto the couch with one knee but managed to stay upright.

'Exactly how much did you drink tonight?' Jack asked while he guided Mac away from the mess and pushed him onto the other sofa, away from the danger. The kid's head lolled back against the cushions and his eyes rolled up. For a moment, Jack thought he had passed out, but a second later, Mac pushed himself upright. Jack had to put a hand on the kid's chest to once again stop him from toppling over.

'Too much,' came the quiet answer. Jack rolled his eyes.

'Oh really, hadn't noticed.'

Mac shrugged and looked around the room, deliberately not looking at Jack.

'And why the hell did you crash into my apartment at 3 in the morning?' Jack continued. He eyed his friend, who seemed to sink further into the couch, away from everything. Jack's shock and irritation made way for worry. He sat down next to Mac and turned his head with his hand. Mac blinked a few times but didn't say anything.

'Mac, what's wrong?'

Mac swatted away Jack's hand and let his head fall back again, staring at the ceiling. He swallowed twice before he spoke up.

'I hurt everyone.'

Jack fell quiet, a pit forming in his stomach. He had told Mac about how he had not liked it when he had vanished without a goodbye, and he had meant every word of it, but he had also meant it when he said they were good again. He couldn't stay mad at his friend, not even if he tried. Yes, it had hurt him, more than he cared to admit, but his buddy was back, that was what mattered now.

'You, and Bozer, and Riley, and Nasha.'

Jack noticed how he left out his dad but didn't comment on it. 'What happened with Nasha? Isn't she at your place?'

Mac turned his head to Jack, looking at him, blinking drunkenly. 'Said she needs time.'

'She told you tonight?'

Mac nodded, grimacing as he regretted the movement. The world was probably spinning enough already without having to move his head. It was a wonder he had made it all this way.

'Don't tell me you drove here,' Jack suddenly realized. Thankfully, Mac shook his head, grimacing again, probably forgotten how nodding had been uncomfortable too just now.

Jack sighed and ran a hand over his face.

'Mac, if this was all bothering you, why didn't you call me?'

Mac looked away again, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the sofa. Jack had almost forgotten how fragile his friend could be, both physically as well as mentally, even though Mac could never admit it.

'Thought the door was closed.'

Jack frowned, glancing at the empty frame that had once been his door. A subtle breeze was coming through, and the sounds of the city weren't as muffled as they used to.

'It was. People close their doors when they go to sleep. You could've just rung the bell, too,' he answered, but Mac shook his head again, his eyes moving along with a delay that betrayed just how drunk he really was. Then Mac patted Jack's chest.

'In here.'

It took Jack a moment to figure out what Mac was saying.

'Mac, whatever you did, it's in the past. You're still my brother, okay? The door here,' Jack said, patting the same place on his chest, right on his heart, 'is always open for you.'

Mac blinked at him slowly as the words made its way to his confused brain. Jack saw Mac's eyes start to tear up as he finally realized he could let his emotions run free. He clumsily wiped at his face, but the tears didn't stop coming.

'Hey, hey, it's okay,' Jack quickly said, placing a hand below Mac's neck and squeezing gently.

'But she left,' Mac croaked.

'You said she needed time, that's not the same as leaving.'

'Better off without me.'

Jack squeezed his neck again. 'Don't say that Mac. You just need to give her a moment to process it all, and then she'll come back to you, because she loves you. Just like you came back to us because you love us.'

Mac sniffed and wiped his face again, arm falling beside him with a thud afterwards, as if the movement had drained all of his energy.

'I do.'

Jack smiled. 'Good, 'cause I love you too, brother. But I also love my beauty sleep, so how about we get you to bed and talk about this tomorrow, okay?'

Mac didn't respond but Jack could tell the kid was near his limit anyway, so there was no resisting when Jack pulled him to wobbly feet. He was about to sling Mac's arm over his shoulder when he heard his breathing hitch. As he looked over, he saw Mac's face had turned another shade of white, and Jack didn't miss the three forced swallows or pained grimace. He didn't need Mac to say what was wrong, he just grabbed him and practically dragged him to the bathroom. Mac tripped and stumbled, but this was the only way Jack could make sure he didn't have two parts of his house to clean up. Two seconds later, Jack let Mac fall to his knees and pushed his head forward, half into the toilet, and it shouldn't have been a second later, because Mac heaved up what little he had in his stomach.

It didn't go on for long, and Jack could tell his friend hadn't had much to eat, because most of it was fluids. Mac whimpered quietly, holding onto the porcelain with one hand while resting his head on his other. Jack squatted down, wincing empathetically.

'You done?'

Mac's answer was another round or vomiting, just acids at this point, and in the end painful dry heaving. Jack gently rubbed the kid's back, feeling the soft tremble underneath his touch. Whatever he had done with Murdoc, it had physically drained him, and the trying to drink the bad away had only made things worse.

Mac hiccupped again, squeezing his eyes shut at the discomfort, but thankfully nothing more came out. When he finally lifted his head, his face was clammy and he looked awful, but at least had regained some color on his cheeks. Jack waited until he was convinced Mac was done throwing up now, and after making him rinse his mouth and flushing the toilet, he helped him up and half-carried him to the spare bedroom.

Mac practically fell back onto the soft mattress, groaning as it probably made the world spin again. Knowing his friend would take forever to get changed, Jack helped him get into more comfortable clothes and made him lay on his side, facing the door. Mac sighed and his eyelids drooped.

'Sorry,' he whispered to Jack, who tugged him in and got the trashcan just in case. Jack smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

'It's okay brother, I've got you.'

Mac mumbled something else after that, but Jack didn't catch it, and Mac drifted off before he could ask about it. Jack smiled again and shook his head. He was glad Mac had come to him, because now Jack knew he was going to be fine. Until tomorrow morning, at least, because the hangover wasn't going to be pretty.

Jack turned off the lights, closed the door behind him. He walked back to the living room to turn off the lights there and finally go back to sleep too when the smile fell from his face. He had momentarily forgotten about the door and the glass and the gaping hole. He groaned, knowing this was going to take some time to clean up and tape off.

'Why couldn't you just have called like a normal person, Mac,' he groaned, the initial annoyance at Mac's actions back. The soft snoring he heard coming from the guest bedroom didn't help. But at least Mac knew his door would always be open. Figuratively speaking, of course, he thought with a grunt, as he found a broom and started sweeping up the glass spilled out all over the floor.