When this world makes you crazy,
And you've taken all you can bear,
Just call me up
And you know I'll be there.
Phil Collins, "True Colors"
The call comes as he is on his way to the mess hall. One glance at the name on his screen has Jack's feet shuffling to a stop, something unpleasant beginning to churn in his gut. Something's wrong.
"Dalton, you good man?"
"Sure, uh," he glances up. "Yeah, Jonesy. I'm good. You, uh, you go on ahead. I gotta take this. Catch up with you."
Jonsey looks at him a moment, frown furrowing his brows before he claps Jack on the back and heads inside.
Swiping to accept the call, Jack strides around to the back of the building, finding the row of spare benches blessedly empty. "Mac? What are you doin' up, bud? I mean, I'm always happy to hear from you, but it's like," he pauses as he does the math in his head, "two-thirty, there. Is everything okay?"
The silence rings loud from the other end.
"Mac?" Jack hopes he's managing to keep the rising panic out of his voice.
A wet, shuddering breath.
"Mac."
Nothing.
Jack is pacing now. "Come on, hoss. You're starting to freak me out, over here."
There's a sniffle, and Jack waits, sensing that Mac is about to speak. After a moment, his patience pays off.
"Jack, I, ah—"
His voice breaks and Jack hears what sounds like a sob. His knuckles go white around the phone. "Mac, buddy, come on," he pleads. "Tell me what's going on. Are you hurt?"
A shaky inhale. "No, I'm...I'm okay. Not hurt."
"Okay, well you gotta tell me what's happening, kiddo. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on." Jack does his best to keep his voice calm and steady, but he knows Mac will be able to hear right through it. "Talk to me, bud. Please."
There's a faint whining sound, followed by more sniffles and it takes all of Jack's self-control to wait silently for Mac to try again.
"I, uh," a sharp, hiccuping inhale, "I killed a man, today. Jack, I killed a man today." His voice is higher than usual, the words rushed and clumsy.
Jack stops pacing, his grip on the phone loosening. This isn't the first time Mac had been responsible for a life lost. Jack knows it bothers the kid—how could it not? But he also knows that Mac recognizes the fact that it is sometimes necessary in their line of work. Kill or be killed. Do or die. Jack's mind races to find the missing variable that makes this one so different. "Okay. Okay. Tell me about it, bud, walk me through it."
Mac is breathing too fast, the sound clogged with tears. Jack feels tears sting at his own eyes. "Angus, please."
Mac tries for a deep breath. His words are broken and his voice is raw. "Lasky. I killed Lasky, Jack. I sealed the room while he was—Jack, I killed him."
"What? I don't understand, Mac. Who's Lasky?"
"He went to the reactor room, but the temp was rising too fast." His voice is off, hollow, almost wailing. "It was too hot, there wasn't enough time before it—everyone in LA would have—I sealed the room, Jack." There is a long pause, filled with sharp, gasping breaths. "I sealed the room. He suffocated and I just stood there. Watching."
Jack's stomach drops. "Aw, Mac." He doesn't fully understand who Lasky was, what he was doing in the reactor room, why it had to be sealed, or even why the reactor was heating up in the first place, but he does understand that Mac had to choose between one life and all of Los Angeles. He also understands that he needs to talk Mac down, and fast. The hysterical quality Mac's voice has been gradually taking on is scaring him out of his mind.
"He—he had a family. Kids."
"Mac, buddy, I need you to listen to me. You got to stop that right now, you hear me? Right now. Stop thinking, just listen. You did the right thing. Okay? You did. I know it sucks. But it took a whopping measure of courage to make that decision, and it was the right one. I'm proud of you."
He could practically see Mac shaking his head on the other side of the world. "No, Jack, I—I sealed the room. He's dead."
"'No, Jack' nothing. You saved millions of lives, today, Mac. You and Lasky. You saved LA. He would have understood. There was nothing you could have done, you hear me? There was nothing you could have done differently."
"There's always something."
"Not this time, buddy. Not this time." Jack knows it's a bold statement to make when he doesn't have all the facts, but he also knows if there had been a way to save Lasky, Mac would have found it. "You did everything you could, and you did good."
"But I killed him, Jack." The hysteria in Mac's voice is full-blown now, and it chills Jack's blood. "I hit that button and I killed him. His family, his kids—" his voice cracks and he doesn't try to speak again, his breaths coming faster and harder.
"Mac, hey buddy. Hey. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Deep breath, come on."
Mac gives no sign that he's heard, and his breathing does not slow. There's a loud clatter, then silence.
"Mac? Mac!" Jack wonders if the kid dropped his phone. "Answer me, dang it!" There is no response, and after a few more futile attempts he gives up and ends the call, swiping to his contacts and dialing a different number.
"Jack?" Riley's voice is thick and slurred with sleep. "Do you even realize what time it is?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Riley. I need you to get to Mac's house, now."
"No, he's—I'm there, now." All sign of sleep is gone. "What's going on? Is he okay?"
"I don't know, I don't think so. The name Lasky mean anything to you?"
Riley's voice is muffled now, but he hears what he thinks is a curse. "Yeah, it does. I'm on my way."
"Thank you. Stay with him 'til I can get there?"
"What? Jack, you don't—"
"No time to argue. I'll see you soon, sweetheart."
He hangs up and his eyes go heavenward as he utters a silent prayer for his boy.
The anxiety that fluttered in Riley's stomach at getting Jack's call had grown into throat-clogging worry at his words and the tone of his voice. Now, searching for Mac in the completely dark house, she fights hard to control rising panic. Flipping on the light over the kitchen sink, she walks around the island counter to make sure he isn't sitting in a shadow. Her earlier searches of the deck, living room, and a quick peek through his cracked bedroom door had all proved fruitless, and she is running out of ideas.
She makes the rounds again, flipping on a lamp here and there until a soft sniffling reaches her ears. She ducks her head back into the living room. "Mac?" The sound comes again and she steps into the room. "Are you in here, man?" She flips on a desk lamp and looks around. The top of a blond head is just visible over the arm of the over-sized lazy-boy and she creeps around it, her bare feet silent on the rug.
Mac is sitting in the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tight around his knees. His face is buried in his arms, and his shoulders are shuddering with breaths that are coming too fast for them to possibly be getting him enough oxygen.
"Mac! Hey, hey, hey." Riley drops to her knees at his side. "What's going on, man?" She puts a hand on his back and another on his knee, and he jolts as if he had not noticed her presence before. "Never mind. Mac, you need to take a deep breath, okay?"
If he tries, she can't tell. His face remains hidden and his breaths come only in short gasps. He's shaking.
"Mac? Come on, man. You're scaring me. You gotta breathe, buddy." She moves the hand on his back up to his neck and hooks his jaw with the other, pulling his face up so she can see. He doesn't fight her, and the eyes that she's revealed are vacant and too bright, red-rimmed and full of tears.
Riley's heart stutters. She's never seen him like this.
"Hey. Hey, man." He's staring somewhere past her, and she taps his cheek until his wandering eyes settle on hers. "Hey." She offers what she hopes looks like a smile and thumbs away a runaway tear trying to make its way down his face. "Are you with me?"
He just stares at her with eyes clouded with guilt and grief, the emotions so intense they take her breath away.
"Clearly not," she mumbles. Then, louder, "That's okay." She sits next to him on the cold floor and scoots until she is wedged halfway behind him, her arms wrapping around his chest, one hand on each of his shoulders. "Can you hear me? Breathe with me, yeah? Can you feel that? In, out. In, out. Super easy." She pulls in another breath, much deeper than necessary, and lets it out as slowly as she can. Mac still trembles against her and she tries again. A few more and she begins to grow lightheaded, but she keeps it up anyway.
She almost jumps when Mac jolts against her, sucking in a breath that gasps and halts and stutters, but it's deep and Riley counts it as a win, relief flooding her veins when it's immediately followed by another. The third is less strained and she squeezes his shoulders. "Good, you're doing great, Mac. You're doing great."
Riley counts seven more desperate attempts at regular breathing, and then it settles into a reasonably steady rhythm. Her head tips forward to rest against his shoulder, adrenaline and relief making her feel weak and shaky. "There you go," she breathes. "You got it." She squeezes her eyes closed and fights against the urge to cry, afraid that if her breathing becomes fast and sporadic Mac's will follow suit.
They sit that way for what feels like a long time, just breathing, before Mac speaks, his voice low and raw. "Riley?"
She lifts her head and smiles. "Yeah. Right here. How are you feeling?"
"Uh, I don't—what, um, what happened?"
"I think your big brain finally got the best of you."
"Oh."
Silence falls between them and Riley feels Mac slowly relax against her. After a few minutes, he relinquishes his death grip on his knees, and a few minutes after that, he let his legs slide to the ground.
"How did you—" he starts.
"Jack called."
"Oh."
"You know you could have gotten me, right?"
He nods.
"So why didn't you?"
She can practically hear the wheels in his head turning. "I don't know." He scrubs his hands over his face. "I barely remember calling Jack."
Riley pulls a hand free to feel his face and neck before returning it to his shoulder. She frowns. "You're pretty warm."
His hands come up to hook over her arms and he lets his head fall back against her collarbone with a sigh. "I'm okay."
Riley squints. "Yeah, I'm not sure 'okay' is the word I'd use, but you're breathing now, so I'm gonna let it slide."
"How long have you been out here?"
Riley leans forward to glance at the watch on his wrist. "Almost half an hour."
"Thanks."
"No problem." She can't help the mom tone her voice takes. "How long have you been out here?"
It's his turn to glance at his watch. Then he shakes his head and huffs, head falling back again. "No idea."
She nods. "Lasky?" It's barely more than a whisper.
A beat. "Yeah."
"You wanna talk about it?"
"I don't know, I just…" He shakes his head. "I kept thinking about his family. His kids." His voice wobbles and she rubs her hands up and down his arms in what she hopes is a soothing manner. "His kids, uh, they're going to—"
"They're going to grow up without their dad, like we did."
He just nods.
"Mac, if you hadn't done what you did, they wouldn't be growing up at all. They would be dead. His wife, too. You saved their lives. He would be grateful for that."
Mac shakes his head. "Maybe."
"Mac, don't do this."
"Do what?" His voice is tired now, emotionless.
"Don't keep running things through in your head. Trying to change the outcome. What happened happened. It's done. And it was the right thing to do."
Mac stiffens against her. "Riley, Lasky is dead. I killed him. There is nothing right about that."
Riley ignores the sharpness of his words and tries again. "Okay. Do run through it in your head. If you were back there now, the reactor is going to blow and wipe out LA and anyone in the surrounding areas, what do you do?"
"If I had known sooner that—"
"Nope. You didn't. We can only work with what we know, here. Knowing what you knew then, what you know now, what would you change?"
Mac deflates against her, one hand leaving her arm to scrub at tears.
"Come one," she says, even though she knows she's won. "Loop me in, here. What would you change."
"Nothing."
"Right. Because you did everything you could, Mac."
His hand falls back to her arm. "My brain knows that." A wet, mirthless laugh. "It's just my feelings that are having trouble grasping it."
Riley nods. They sit quietly for a few minutes before Riley works up the courage to speak. "You know," she starts, her voice low, "I've been thinking. Since I heard what happened. And I don't, um...I don't think I could have done it. I don't think I could have been that brave." She's surprised by the relief she feels at having it out in the open.
Mac just squeezes her arms, his voice very tired. "That's not a bad thing, Riles."
"No, but it would've been! If it had been me in your place, and I'd hesitated? Millions of people would be dead, and they would all be on me."
"Now look who's brain is getting the best of them."
Riley chuckles past the lump that has formed in her throat. "That's fair."
"Look, Riley...You weren't in my place, you didn't hesitate, and those lives aren't on you. And if you're ever in a situation like that, you'll know what to do. You're one of the bravest people I know. You'll do the right thing."
Riley feels a warm flush of pleasure at the unexpected praise, but she takes the opportunity to drive her earlier point home. "Like you did."
She holds him tighter, rocking them back and forth as he turns his face into her shoulder and cries.
It had taken every favor Jack had claim on and then some, but by seven AM Pacific Standard Time, he is pulling into Mac's driveway, jet-lagged and panicky. He doesn't even bother to get his backpack out of the passenger seat of the rental before he is running to the door and trying the knob.
It's locked. Good. Maybe Mac finally got tired of super villains breaking into his house. Jack pulls at the collar of his shirt until he snags the chain that holds his dog tags and his spare key. It slides in with familiar ease and his ears know the sound of the tumblers even before he turns it.
He rushes inside, calling Mac's name at the top of his lungs then pausing as he listens for a response. The house is still. Too still. He shouts again, rushing towards the bedrooms. Mac's is empty, and so is the guest room. "Mac!"
His phone vibrates in his pocket. He almost doesn't check, but what if it's about Mac? What if something's horribly wrong and he's at the hospital, or something? What if he'd taken a drive in his state and wrapped his car around a tree?
It's Riley.
7:36: Dude, shush!
7:36: We're in the living room.
He breathes a sigh of relief and slides his phone back into his pocket, already halfway to the living room.
The sight that greets him warms his heart despite his state of near-panic.
Riley sits cross-legged on the sofa, one arm bent on the back to support her head, the other resting across Mac's shoulders as her fingers run back and forth through the blond bedhead in her lap. Mac is sprawled on his stomach, halfway on the couch and halfway on Riley. Jack's heart tugs when he sees the way Mac's left fist is tangled in the hem of Riley's T-shirt, the way it has clung desperately to his own many times over the years. His face is turned toward Jack and he can see the telltale signs of of tears.
"Hey, stranger," Riley says softly, lifting her head to rub the sleep from her eyes.
He bends down and takes her face in his hands to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Hey."
She presses her free hand to his, holding it against her cheek as she blinks wet eyes up at him. "It's good to see you." She smiles and her chin quivers.
Guilt floods Jack's gut, but he buries it to smile back at her. "You too, honey. You have no idea."
"How'd you get here so fast?"
"Well, now, that's classified."
Riley gives him a Look. "Is it actually classified, or are you just saying that so it sounds cooler?"
He shrugs. "Buddy of mine owed me a jet ride."
"Ah."
Jack pinches her cheek before he pulls away to kneel on the carpet, resting a hand gently on Mac's back as he ducks his head to get a better look at his face. "How's he doin'?"
Riley sighs, and when he looks back at her she looks much older than he remembered. "A mess. Honestly, I'm just surprised this hasn't happened sooner. He's been going after Codex like crazy since Oversight died. Hasn't taken any time to process it. And with his aunt in the mix, I think he feels responsible. Lasky was just the proverbial straw." She rubs hard at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. "This has been a long time coming." Another sigh. "The stuff with Desi hasn't exactly been helping, either."
Jack is frowning. "Hold up—I was following right up until you mentioned his aunt. He has an aunt? And what the heck is 'the stuff with Desi' supposed to mean?"
Riley blinks at him. "Yeah, uh...his aunt. Gwendolyn. Maternal. Turns out his mom came up with the whole 'save the world by killing half of it' plan, and when she died for it, her sister took it upon herself to carry it out."
"His mom?"
"Yep."
Jack looks down at Mac's sleeping face. "How on God's green earth did this boy come from the parents he had?"
His words are low, barely audible, but Riley hears them. She shakes her head, fingers making another pass through Mac's hair. "Beats me."
Jack squints back up at her. "And what's this about Desi?"
Riley groans. "That's a whole other thing. They're not an item anymore. Sort of. It's confusing. I'm confused."
Jack makes a face. "I didn't know they were an item in the first place."
"Oh. Oops."
"Why wouldn't he tell me something like that?"
Riley shrugs. "Probably just knew you'd give him grief for it. 'Hey, Jack, remember that person you sent to babysit me and make sure I didn't die when you left? Yeah? Great, well, surprise! We're dating now!' sounds kinda weird."
"That's because it is weird."
Riley just shrugs again.
Jack turns his attention back to Mac. "How long has he been sleeping?"
"I got him to the couch at four-something and he just kind of passed out. He's gone a few rounds with nightmares, but he hasn't really woken up, yet." She smothers a yawn.
Jack catches it. "What about you?"
"I've been dozing here and there. 'Til someone came in here screaming up a storm."
"Sorry about that. How about you go on and get some sleep? I'll stay with him."
Her face twisted in conflict as she looked down at Mac. "I don't want to wake him."
"You said it yourself, if he slept through the grand Jack Dalton entrance, he's not gonna wake up if his living pillow shifts a little."
She considers this for a moment before her face breaks into another yawn.
Jack hides his smile before she can catch it.
"Well," she concedes, "his living pillow is really tired. And her legs have been cramping for the last hour."
"See? Go to bed, kiddo."
Riley slowly eases herself out from under Mac and Jack grabs a decorative pillow from the chair to slide under his head as soon as she's free. Mac stirs, but does not wake. Riley turns back to Jack and he wraps her in the bear hug he's been wanting to give her for over a year.
"I've never seen him like he was last night, Jack." Her voice is shaky and muffled in his chest. "I didn't know what to do."
Jack pulls away just enough to gesture to Mac's sleeping form. "Looks like you did pretty good, to me. You got him to sleep. Half the time, that's better than I could do."
She leans back into him and he holds her tight as her shoulders begin to shake with silent tears. "C'mon, sweetheart," he says, bending to lift her into his arms. "Let's get you to bed."
Riley just wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, her tears warm and wet against his skin as he carries her from the living room.
He pauses in the kitchen. "Where are you sleepin', Boo?"
"Sunroom," she murmurs. Her wet lashes tickle his skin, and he looks down to see her eyes closed. He smiles.
By the time they reach her room, Riley is half-asleep, growing heavy against him. He lays her carefully on the bed, reaching up to untangle her arms from about his neck. "Sleep well, kiddo," whispers, leaning close to kiss her cheek. She opens her eyes a little and gives him a sleepy smile that reminds him so much of little Riley that tears spring into his eyes. He passes his hand over her hair one more time before quietly pulling the door closed and returning to the living room.
He settles in the lazy-boy across from the couch, watching Mac with a furrowed brow. "I never should've left," he whispers to no one. Shaking himself, he pulls his phone out and texts Matty to tell her that unless vampires and zombies have joined forces with the wookalar to end the world, his kids are going to need the day off.
8:07: Are they okay?
He thinks for a moment before he responds. They will be.
8:08: Good.
8:08: And Dalton?
8:08: You'd better get your butt in here before you go back wherever it is you came from.
Yes, ma'am. He smiles and settles in for his vigil.
It's nearly ten when Mac stirs, his face creasing in distress, whispering something Jack can't make out. He kneels by the couch and puts a hand on Mac's back, rubbing up and down and leaning his ear down by the kid's moving lips.
"...no choice, no choice. I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice. I'm so sorry."
"Mac. Hey, bud." He cards his hand through Mac's hair, shaking him a little. "Wake up. C'mon, open your eyes for me."
Mac's frown deepens, but after a moment, he does. He blinks up at Jack with swollen, bloodshot eyes. "Jack? Are you—" he looks around the room "—are you here?"
"In the flesh, my man."
He barely has time to brace himself before Mac is sitting up and flinging his arms around him, fingers twisting and knotting in the fabric of his T-shirt. "Hey, there, pal. It's good to see you, too," Jack laughs, squeezing right back. "Hasn't anyone told you? Bear hugs are kinda my thing."
Mac just squeezes tighter.
Jack rests his chin on Mac's head.
"Missed you." Mac's words are barely intelligible with his face pressed so tightly into Jack's chest.
"Me, too, bud. Me, too."
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, this is what happens when you call me sounding like you're in the middle of a full-blown meltdown, and then just leave me hangin'. You didn't even hang up, bud."
"Sorry."
Jack redoubles his grip and runs a hand over Mac's head as tears spring into his eyes for the second time that morning. "Aw, don't worry about it, kid. Just, uh, please don't ever do that to me again."
"Are you crying?"
Jack scoffs, blinking rapidly. "No!" A beat. "Are you?"
"No." Mac inhales, long and slow.
"Did you just...smell me?"
"Absolutely not."
Jack shakes his head and buries his face in Mac's hair. He presses a kiss there and breathes deep.
"Did you just smell me?"
"No way, José."
They stay that way for longer than either will ever admit before Mac pulls away a bit, swiping at his eyes.
"Great," Jack says. "Now that we're done not crying and absolutely not smelling each other, you wanna tell me what's going on?"
Mac sighs, running a hand over his face before he once more recounts the events of the previous day. It takes fifteen minutes, interspersed with pauses as Mac fights tears, but this time around Jack has a much better understanding of what went down.
Mac gives a wet laugh as he finishes. "Did you give Riley a crash course in 'Talking Mac Down 1.01' before you left?"
"Why, what'd she say?"
"Everything you would have." Mac smirks. It's subdued, but Jack will take it. "Except, you know, with more eloquence."
"Are you kidding me? I'm known on eight continents for my silver tongue."
"There are only seven continents, Jack."
Jack rejoices inwardly at how easy it is to annoy Mac with a false statement. Some things just don't change. "You see? Case in point."
Mac shakes his head in exasperation, a low chuckle escaping his lips.
Jack smiles. He knows he'll have to leave again, probably sooner rather than later. But for now, he's more than content to push that thought aside and just enjoy his kids.