DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN MACGYVER SO THE CHARACTERS AND STUFF DON'T BELONG TO ME.
SUMMARY: Mac is drinking out on the deck thinking about his aunt until Bozer comes out to help his friend.No Slash.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think as this is my first fic for this fandom. Please review!
I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think as this is my first fic for this fandom.
Work Text:
Mac slowly and shakily lifted the bourbon bottle to his dry lips. It had almost slipped from his grasp a few times in the last hour. His trembling hands just couldn't keep a firm grip on it. Throwing his head back, he downed the last of the liquor. A few tears came to his eyes at that exact moment, but he couldn't be sure if it was from the burning fire in his throat as the alcohol slipped down or from the surveillance photo of his aunt that he held in his hands. Even after everything she'd done she still loved him. That was the pain that hurt most of all. The last person of his family, his last living blood relative, died. And it was his fault. If he had figured it out earlier, if he had tried to reach out to her earlier instead of listening to Russ and Desi, he could have saved her. They could have stopped the entire plan before it even reached its climax at the dam.
"I don't think I've ever seen you drink that stuff before."
Mac turned his head slowly to see Bozer sitting down next to him. His friend kept his gaze firmly on the agent with a sympathetic look on his face.
"Yeah well," he started taking another sip. This time the burn was almost too much and he coughed slightly on reflex. "It's been that kind of day."
"Mac. I'm your best friend. You can be honest with me," Bozer responded, grabbing the bottle from his hands, "I know it's been that kind of year not that kind of day."
A small chuckle escaped from the blond's lips. He made no attempt to take his alcohol back. He wasn't even sure why he thought it'd be a good idea to have some. But when he looked down again, his aunt's face reminded him. This year had been the worst of his life. Not only did he discover the horrifying truth about his mother, but he was forced to allow both his father and newly found relative to die. It was a cruel irony actually. His father stayed behind to ensure he could escape from his aunt who would later save him in the exact same way.
"Desi called," Bozer said, trying to get Mac's attention aways from the spiraling thoughts he knew his friend would be having. "You left your phone on the table inside. She left you like ten messages."
"I don't really feel like talking to her right now," Mac replied, heaving out a heavy sigh.
"You know I'm not going to force you to do anything, but you can't be sitting out here for the entire night staring at pictures of Gwen. It's not healthy, man."
"I know, Boze. I know. It's just… I can't believe she's gone. I don't have any family left anymore."
"Mac," Bozer began, his voice taking an incredulous tone, "You're always gonna have family. Even if it isn't by blood."
Another tear slipped down his cheek as Mac set the picture face down on the floor in front of him. Would he always have family? When Mac tried to tell everyone to trust him, Russ thrust a gun in his face. Desi turned her back on him and practically forced him out of the Phoenix, the only place he could help and make a difference. He looked back at Bozer, ready to voice those thoughts when he remembered that even though Russ and Desi didn't help him, Riley, Bozer, and Matty did. Hell, Riley even followed him into the lion's den trusting him to be able to get them out. Maybe he did have a family, even if there were some issues everyone needed to sort out.
"Thanks, man," Mac muttered quietly, and even with how faintly he said that he knew Bozer would understand.
Bozer nodded without responding, clapping a hand on Mac's back before standing up and leaving him alone. Thanking him mentally, Mac stood too silently making his way to the kitchen. While Boze had taken the bourbon he'd been drinking out on the deck, he failed to see the one that was still in the shopping bag behind the counter. Mac ran his hands over the glass cautiously, as if fearing it would break. He closed his eyes and squeezed them shut before hesitantly opening the bottle and allowing its contents to pour down the drain. It still hurt, and he knew it probably always would. He knew he probably couldn't look at another picture of his aunt or dad for a long time without feeling the urge to repeat what he was doing earlier. But he also knew that he wasn't going to let this break him. That isn't what any of his family would have wanted. They wanted him to keep living. Even though none of them took a good approach to protect him, that's all his parents and aunt ever wanted to do. So he wouldn't let this break him.
When the last of the brown liquid finished falling, Mac began rinsing out the bottle. Just because he wasn't going to break didn't mean this bottle wouldn't later on once he found a good use for it.