Riley rounded the bed to join Mac on the other side, she was torn between wanting to stay close to Jack, drawing comfort from maintaining physical contact, and staying out of the way for the professionals to take care of him. She buried her face in the crook of Mac's neck and he did the same. She felt how tense his neck and shoulders were, rubbing a hand up and down his flank with futility through the TAC vest to attempt to relax him. He squeezed her tighter and she felt his tears on her shirt collar. After a long moment they unlatched from each other, each taking a step back. Riley looked down, unstrapping the velcro from the sides of her TAC vest as Mac did the same.
They discarded the gear into a vacant jump seat and stood around nervously awaiting instruction...direction...information, anything to break the tension. They inched slowly back toward Jack's side, not taking their eyes off him, wondering how far they would get before someone asked them to get out of the way. Mac slid his hand under Jack's as Riley placed hers on top and rubbed his knuckle just behind his ring.
"It's so hideous." she tried to smile as she stared at the gaudy hunk of white gold Jack cherished.
Mac was caught off guard by the comment, lost in his own thoughts for a moment, "huh?"
"This." she twisted it on Jack's finger before carefully sliding it off and onto her own index finger. She held it up to admire it on her own hand and smiled.
"You should probably hang on to that for him." Mac encouraged, "better than it sitting in a property bag."
The short ride to the nearest hospital was agonizing for the agents as they listened to Justin radio in to the hospital to prepare for their arrival. Nadine strapped Jack down to the bed. She'd promised she would do what she could to avoid that, but Jack no longer had a say in that as he swayed side to side slightly with every bump and jostle on the ride. The persistent beeping of the machines, even without the alarms blaring, was unnerving and a constant reminder that they could go south any moment as they had previously. Hearing the sitrep Justin broadcast over the radio, though they'd actually seen it as it happened, tightened like a vice in Mac's gut. They only touched on the highlights, the things that needed immediate attention-the things that would kill you fastest, but it felt like he was briefing them forever.
Upon landing, there had been no change in status, good or bad. Mac accepted the lack of change with optimism after learning that Jack had overdosed on epinephrine after the TAC team recovered two spent auto-injectors; he went down in the right place at the right time, and it was drug induced instead of an underlying health issue. While it certainly wasn't an all clear by any means, it was a relief to know Jack wasn't actively dying prior to being kidnapped.
The flurry of activity once they landed was dizzying. Mac and Riley, tucked into a corner of the helicopter, watched a herd of medical professionals whisk their partner away through sliding doors leaving a mess of bloody cloths, discarded wrappers, and used equipment in their wake. After the pilot shut down his aircraft, he joined the agents in the back. They weren't sure where to go or what to do, lost in a weird limbo of waiting.
"I'm not trying to kick you out, seriously, take your time, but once my crew returns, we are going to start cleaning up this mess, and you probably don't want to be here for that."
Riley nodded a wordless acknowledgement, hoping Bozer and Matty were only minutes behind them to share in the solemn solidarity.
Despite the preemptive rundown the receiving ER was given, Mac and Riley knew there would be extensive questions they didn't want to think about. The Phoenix would handle technical questions while they were stuck with the personal questions, reliving and recalling every punch, cut, and loss of consciousness, each detail racking up the already long list of tests, scans, and procedures ordered.
Hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace, updates came few and far between, and those came only when Matty used her mom voice with the administrators to get some answers. A battery of tests, CT for concussion, chest x-rays, resetting bones, cleaning and stitching wounds, who knew what else was going on. After several long hours, they were finally told they could see Jack.
He was still in the ICU, the nurse warned them, "go one at a time and keep it short and sweet. He's lightly sedated, so he may or may not feel up for visitors. Let him rest." There was no question of who would go first.
It was jarringly cold in the room, but Mac was glad to see that they'd cleaned him up; Jack was no longer covered head to toe in blood. The gown was loosely draped over his torso, concealing bandages and cardiac leads. He was covered up to his abdomen with a light blanket, the silver splint across his nose was flanked on either side by heavy dark purple circles under both eyes that were underlined by the tubing from the nasal cannula.
The lack of buzzing energy coming off of Jack was the most difficult thing for Mac to handle. His best friend, the most reliable and self sufficient person Mac had ever known, was down for the count.
Mac approached the side of the bed and pulled a small chair over with his leg. The screech it made as the legs skidded across the ground made Mac flinch, but Jack didn't move a bit.
"Hey big guy." Mac hooked his hand around Jack's fingers, mindful of the temporary splints and bandages covering both wrists up to his knuckles. "You did great today. We would have never found you...or them, if you hadn't been so damn clever and resourceful." The tears unexpectedly rolled down Mac's cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Before today, I'd never even considered us not going out together in a 'blaze o' glory,'" he playfully mocked Jack's accent, "There are so many uncertainties in life and this job, but one thing I could always count on was that Jack would always be there. That you would always be there. You were invincible. Even when they were...when they were...hurting you, you stood tall and you took it. And when you...when you...in the helicopter. I just, I felt my...it felt like half of me disintegrated."
He ran his shirt sleeve across his cheeks to dry them and smiled, "I see why you hate doing this," he smiled at the thought of waking up to Jack's bedside vigil so many times, "I'm sorry for ever putting you through it." Mac sat another minute staring at their hands. "I'm going to let someone else come in now; I don't want to monopolize all the one sided conversations." Mac squeezed his hand and wiped his tears one last time before he walked out the door to allow Riley to enter.
While Mac had a visceral and nervous reaction, Riley's was very emotionally charged. Mac wanted to get out of the room and pretend nothing had ever happened, like everything was fine; he preferred to ignore reality just a little longer. Riley broke down. She put her hands on Jack's arm, his hair, his shoulder, any part that looked like it wouldn't hurt to touch. She had to touch him to make sure he was still there, to ground her and remind her that he was Jack, he was still invincible, he was larger than life, and he was going to be ok.
She fluffed his hair back a few times, smiling through tears as she admired how gray it had become. She'd first met Jack when he had a ridiculously thick mane of dark brown hair and a full intimidating beard to go with it. The beard would come and go, sometimes it would turn into a goatee, sometimes a creepy moustache, but it always represented his unwavering virility. Now that it was gray, it felt more like a representation of his wisdom and survival skills instead of wear and tear and old age. She loved and cared for him more than any other man she'd known, but didn't know how to show him outside of ribbing and playful teasing. She decided to make it a point to remind him how much she loved him, as a father figure and friend, once he was lucid enough to make fun of her for it. She wasn't sure how long she was in there, resting her head on his bicep, minding the brace on his broken wrist, but it must have been a while because Bozer peeked in the door to check on her.
Visitation rules be damned, he entered the room and placed his arm around her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "I'll be out there if you need anything." He released her shoulder and headed toward the door.
"Stay." she stopped him with one word.
Bozer attempted to occupy his mind with anything else he could, the situation was awkward for him. His relationship with Jack had always been a fun and friendly one, like a big brother or a mentor. When he found out about the "think tank" being anything but, it changed Bozer's perception of his friends, but not his expectations.
The fun and teasing big brother Jack morphed into a protector, so he still had the same role, it was just more important and natural now that Bozer was in on the secret.
He counted wires and tubes and wondered what they did. He was pretty sure he knew what they actually did, but preferred to come up with something more fun. That one over there supplies the Super Soldier Serum, but it wasn't blue because Jack gave up the brightly colored liquids when he found out mac was sensitive to some food dyes.
That one is measuring the midichlorian count, he mused. The one over there is counting...Bozer ran out of pop culture references way too quickly for his own liking. He's a master at this, he and… Jack. Of course. Without his partner in geeky movie trivia he was just paddling the boat in circles. Bozer's shoulders sagged a little and he let out an inadvertent sigh. "He's gonna be ok. Just needs a little time to get better." He squeezed Riley's shoulders reassuringly, mostly to convince himself, and left the room.
When the door opened a few minutes later, Riley thought one of her friends had returned, but it was actually their cue to leave. They were told that they could return later, after 5:00 p.m, and that it would do them no good to wait around at the hospital. The team was assured that Jack was stable, and that their own doctor from the Phoenix would be there shortly to check Jack over and tell them himself.
They'd officially been wearing the same clothes for over 24 hours at that point. It was time to change, if not for the stale smell, but for the constant reminder of the brutality of the previous day. Riley's black shirt didn't display the blood as obviously, but it was apparent and garish on the front of Mac's light blue shirt and on his sleeve.
Matty told them the name of their hotel and instructed her 3 younger agents to get something to eat and wash up. Stoic silence followed the trio until they'd finally managed to pass a couple of hours picking at plates of food, ordering fancy coffees, and walking around the grounds of the hotel in a feeble attempt to absorb some of the rejuvenating sunshine from the bright and cloudless afternoon.
Mac and Bozer shared a hotel room, and Riley had her own. After a quick shower and a towel drying of her hair, Riley was in a hurry to get back to the other boys and knocked on the adjoining door to quell her feeling of discomfort from being alone. They tried to get some sleep, all three stretched horizontally across one bed, unable to tolerate being more than an arm's reach from one another, but rest didn't come.
"What if he wakes up alone?" Riley finally broke the silence.
"I don't think he'll wake up." Mac added.
Riley raised her eyebrows in astonishment, why would he say such a thing? Mac rethought his words, rolled onto his right side to face her propping his head up on his elbow, and corrected himself, "I think he'll rest. He was out hard; he went through a lot and is heavily medicated right now. I don't know if he would even be lucid enough to notice-to notice we're not there."
"I know you're trying to rationalize not being there because we don't have any control in the situation, but I'm...I'm not ok not being there. I know you're not either."
"I know, but there's nothing we can do about it. And stressing yourself out about it isn't helping anyone. Come here." Mac opened his arms toward her and she inched her way to him, finally resting her head on his chest and the crook of his shoulder. He wrapped that arm around her back and motioned for Bozer to move closer, sensing her need for comforting contact. Bozer rested his hand on her shoulder with a gentle back and forth rub. Her hand sat in the center of Mac's chest, Jack's gigantic ring on her index finger, soothed by the steady thrum reverberating in her ear and under her palm.
After a marathon thirtysomething hours awake and stressed to their limits, one by one, they each dozed off. A buzzing phone jerked Mac out of his sleep as he silenced it immediately from his pocket, hoping not to wake his peaceful partners. He fished the phone from his pocket and moved his head side to side slowly to attempt to dislodge rogue strands of Riley's hair that had become stuck to his chin and mouth.
Mac blinked the dryness from his eyes and brought his phone in close to his face to read the message from Matty informing them that they could return to the hospital. He inched upward slowly to slide out from underneath Riley, smiling at the positioning of his friends. Bozer and Riley were lying pressed together, back to back with legs intertwined, or as Jack would say, like kids tuckered out after a long day of playing in the woods. Mac snickered to himself at the thought, remembering how Jack would get annoyed at their behavior and felt alienated by his age when they'd quote vines or talk about things he'd never even heard of; he'd cross his arms in a pout and tell them to "go play in the woods," a throwback to his own childhood when kids spent most of their time outside unsupervised being loud, leading to a low parental tolerance for indoor rowdiness and a willful banishment to play outside-A vicious circle of latchkey kids doing dumb shit nobody knew about and in turn hovering and helicoptering over their own children decades later. Jack felt that Mac's abandonment had made him an honorary member of the forgotten kids of genx too, with the outdoor survival skill and contradictory lack of self preservation to back it up.
Mac splashed water on his face, tugging on the dark circles under his eyes to get a better look at how bloodshot and red his eyes were. Jack wasn't going to like that one bit. After gently waking his comrades, they shuttled back to the hospital to meet with Dr. McClain.
Huddled in a small vacant office, Dr. McClain had already given Matty a thorough breakdown of Jack's condition and asked the younger three agents if they wanted the same spiel or just the cliff notes. Bozer and Riley looked to Mac for guidance. The thought of hearing the laundry list of injuries again made Mac's stomach turn. He'd heard enough upon their initial arrival at the hospital to turn his blonde hair prematurely gray, "We'll take the abridged version."
"We are holding off on the bullet removal until we're certain he's stable enough for surgery. You, Mac, as power of attorney, have some decisions to make."
Mac's face paled upon hearing those words and his stomach again threatened to rebel at the thought of making important life decisions for someone else.
"No, son, it's not what you're thinking." Dr. McClain assured him, earning a collective sigh of relief from the other occupants of the room. "Once he's deemed stable enough, they can remove the bullet here or we can move him back to the Phoenix and take care of it there. Back home."
"That sounds great."
"The flight is just over two hours, but that kind of...confinement may not be the best for his mental state after that kind of ordeal. I'll let you think about it, talk it over with him if you'd like."
"He's awake?" Mac's eyes lit up, "talking?"
"Not exactly. When I was examining him, he wasn't exactly lucid or reacting to my actions or my questions, but he would mumble fondly about a ferret named Gus occasionally."
"He wants to go home. Does he still think he's…" Mac swallowed, struggling to get the words out, "being held captive?"
"I doubt that. He wasn't in distress."
"Well he wants me to fake an illness to cause a distraction so he...so WE can escape. That's what he was saying about the ferret; it's a code. I guess he does want to go home."
"Ok then. I can get the cogs turning on the LA end. We'll take the bullet out and get him a walking boot for that broken fibula since crutches are out with the one broken wrist and the torn ligaments and dislocation in the other. Lucky for him, the break was his non dominant hand, and the other is bruised and swollen, but should heal well along with the damage to the skin on his wrists and thumbs."
"The electrical burns and cuts on the abdomen, and also the scrapes on the back were mostly superficial, no stitches, but the one on his temple needed a few and also came with a concussion. Broken nose a few broken ribs. But I know what you're waiting to hear from me, so I'll get to the point." Dr. McClain took a deep breath, "
"We thoroughly checked everything that we could look at- cardiac MRI, transesophageal echocardiogram," the doctor stopped at the collective cringe from his audience, "and everything looks beautiful. The quick actions of you guys and the medics paid off. There doesn't appear to be any permanent damage to his heart. I'm waiting on a few more blood tests and reviews of the scans by the cardiologist before giving an official thumbs up, but it's looking good."
The relief in the air was apparent and refreshing.
"That doesn't mean that anything will be easy, not by a long shot. There's a lot of PT in store, not to mention the psychological aspect that we haven't even been able to assess yet, but that's another problem for another day. Let's focus on the positive for now."
When Mac entered the room in ICU for a second time, Jack was still sleeping peacefully. He looked better to Mac, if only slightly since he was still black and blue from head to toe. The bruises had finally set in, and they were dark, but the rest of his skin had regained a lot of its color. Mac approached the bed silently and heard strange sounds. Humming? The machines all seemed to be silenced, but he still heard a faint noise.
Mac whispered, "Jack? You awake?"
"Hmm?" was Jack's barely audible response as he continued to hum where he'd left off.
"Are you awake?" He asked again, "well obviously you are, I'm just trying to be polite," Mac grumbled. "Unless sleep humming is a thing for you, and honestly I wouldn't be surprised by that at all."
Jack responded by humming the same tune, and adding words in every once in a while. "They just don't appreciate that you get tired. They're so hard to satisfy. You can tranquilize your mind. So go running for the shelter of a mother's little helper. And four help you through the night." He sang quietly with his eyes still closed.
"I don't know that one, Jack." Mac interrupted.
Jack sang a little louder, words still slurred, "Help to minimize your plight. Doctor please, some more of these. Outside the door she took four more. What a drag, it's getting old." He opened his eyes. "Hey, Mac!" he drawled as his smile reached his heavy lidded eyes.
"It's good to see you." Mac told him as he took a seat next to the bed.
"Ditto." he rumbled, groggily, "Feels like I haven't seen you in a week. Shit, has it been a week?" the words were low and drawn out, like highly intoxicated Jack, just before he reaches passed out on the floor Jack. "How you been?"
"I'm fine." Mac laughed.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. One hundred percent intact."
"If you're ok, whaddar ya doin in the hospital? An' lookin like refried dog shit?" Jack managed to make eye contact with his partner to flash an accusatory look to go with the statement, but it just made Mac snicker. A burst blood vessel in Jack's right eye made him look even more wrecked than before, yet he was still concerned about Mac.
"I'm not in the hospital, well inside, yes that's technically true, but I'm here for you. I'm not hurt at all. See." Mac put his arms out to the side and turned around in a circle. "I'm good."
"I don't believe you." Jack stared him down, narrowing one eye slightly for emphasis.
"Uh," Mac stammered, not really having a way to win this argument with a drugged up Jack, "well I do have a paper cut on my finger and a blister on my toe from wearing these boots for an entire day. I didn't have the right socks on."
"Yep. See. I told ya'." Jack closed his eyes with a satisfied grin. "I got a pad for that blister in the first aid kit in my car."
"Ok, Jack. I'll take care of that ASAP."
"Good." Jack closed his eyes and Mac thought he had dozed off again. "Are you gonna give me a hug, or do I have to come take one."
"Of course, Jack, but you're a walking bruise, I don't want to hurt you."
"Walking? Nah. Not me. Got a bullet in my leg they ain't took out yet."
"I'm sorry." Mac apologized.
"You're gonna be if you don't get in here and gimmie a fuckin hug, boy."
Mac did his best to touch as little of Jack as possible, sliding his hands behind Jack and feeling the warm skin of his back and the large bandage covering the road rash. Jack pulled him in tight, almost causing Mac to lose his balance, but he finally caved and relaxed into the hug as Jack squeezed and gave him two heavy back pats before cradling the back of Mac's head with his hand. Mac gave a light squeeze back with a sigh of relief that blew warm across Jack's shoulder, as Mac felt a warm tear from Jack fall into his hair.
Mac felt Jack take a sharp inhale as he released the hug followed by a coughing fit that lasted too long for Mac's comfort. When he finished, Jack sunk back into the bed, red faced. "Fuck!" He was panting. "That She-hulk, Nadine, broke my damn ribs. I'm pretty fuckin high right now, but that shit still hurts. Ugh."
"Should I get a nurse?" Mac was near panic.
"Nah, I'm fine. Just hurts."
"I'll go get someone." Mac bolted out of the room before Jack could protest further, summoning a nurse that insisted Mac stay outside while she checked on Jack.
Mac took a seat next to his friends and pulled out his phone to figure out what Jack had been singing earlier. After a quick search he came up with a wikipedia page talking about how Mother's Little Helper by the Rolling Stones was about the trend of valium abuse among housewives in the 60s. Mac's short cackle drew attention to him.
"What's so funny, Mac?" Riley asked.
The nurse exited Jack's room and Mac stopped her. "Excuse me, nurse, are y'all giving Jack valium by chance?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"Not at all. Thank you for your help." Mac smiled at her with amusement and sincerity.
"I'll be back in a few minutes." The nurse announced.
Riley looked to Mac, "seriously, what's so funny?"
"When I went in there, Jack was humming a song about moms taking valium."
Mac expected her to laugh, but Riley's face blanched. "Mac, he's still giving clues. What if he thinks he's still being held and tortured and…"
For just a moment, Mac considered that scenario, his stomach turned and his mouth felt dry. He slowed his breathing and reconsidered what he just saw in that room. "No, he was...he was ok, a little loopy, but he was good.
"But Mac, he took all that shit before and maintained his macho bravado bullshit. How do we know he knows he's safe?" Riley questioned insubordinately.
"He knew I was there; he hugged me." Mac protested, letting the feeling of doubt worm its way into his brain. Riley went to check for herself.
Upon entering, she saw Jack's face scrunched in pain with his arms wrapped around his ribs. When he saw her, he dropped his arms to his side and smiled, bravado firmly back in place. "You're much prettier than the other nurse," he joked.
"Jack." She scolded. "Not funny. If you weren't already so fucked up, I'd slap you."
"Go ahead, I can't feel it anyway!" He teased.
"You're infuriating." She tried to hold back a smile. He held his arms out toward her and she closed the gap between them immediately. She hesitated for a moment trying to come up with a good way to hold him, recalling the obvious pain he was in when she first walked in. She wrapped her hand around his fingers on his least damaged hand and leaned in to brush a gentle kiss on his forehead right on top of his flattened hair.
She stood back up, not releasing the grip on his hand, and fluffed the front of his hair with her free hand.
"There you go again, always trying to make me pretty." Jack blushed.
The sudden recollection of the incident in the Medevac made her breath hitch, and she tried to recover quickly with a tease, "You're beyond help right now."
"I don't know, I've got that Brad Pitt in Fight Club thing going on." He pawed at the silver brace across his nose.
"Maybe middle aged Brad Pitt." She smiled.
"Still Brad Pitt though." He stifled a wet cough, holding his breath to try to contain it. She could see him struggle to hold it in, wincing in pain as the nurse walked back in looking very cross.
"You have to get it out." The nurse chided.
"But it hurts." He whined, still holding his breath and clenching his teeth.
Riley slipped silently back out the door and cringed as she heard a coughing fit so violent and long that she was pretty sure she heard him gag and vomit at the end of it.
The three agents stared at the door in anticipation, waiting for the nurse to emerge from the room.
Bozer looked concerned, "Is he...ok?"
The nurse responded with a facial shrug, "yes, actually. Much better than expected. We're treating for pneumonia with antibiotics, but he's still got to cough it out. With so many broken ribs and the," she searched for the appropriate word, "cuts across his abdomen, it going to be an unpleasant process." She nodded toward the vials in her hand, "I'm going to have these labs run for your doctor, and see what we can do about getting out of ICU."
Dr. McClain rounded a corner a short while later, "great news. Jack's heart looks good. The incident on the Medevac was definitely a result of an overdose of epinephrine, and not some underlying issue. We've got several EKGs from the physicals administered by the Phoenix over the years to compare, and it looks like Jack is still doing well, better than expected. We can move out of ICU and arrange to get back to LA soon if that's what you choose."
The theesome excitedly pulled each other into a celebratory hug. Once they released, the doctor pulled Mac to the side to speak with him privately.
"Have you made a decision?" Dr. McClain asked Mac.
"Yeah, I think going home is probably a good choice. If nothing else, for the fact that we just took down some key leaders in a cartel. Us staying here puts everyone else here in danger."
"Ok, but there's one other thing we need to talk about." The doctor was no longer excited. "The trip on the air ambulance is just over 2 hours. Two hours where Jack will have to stay on that gurney, secured. So we need to think about the psychological aspect. I'm afraid that after being held captive for a day and tortured, then confined to a bed due to injury, that being strapped to a gurney for a two hour flight may cause unwanted stress. We're easing up on the medication now, he's more lucid and gaining awareness and will continue to do so." He took a deep breath. "Knowing this, do you think that going back at this time is the right plan?"
"I still think he would want to go back home. Hospital rooms all look the same, but having you guys as a care team and just knowing he was safe at home would be beneficial. But you're right, I can see how the trip would be problematic. Is there a ground travel option? I know it would take longer, but is there more freedom to move?"
"Not really. Plus the trip is significantly longer and there are a lot of other outside factors that come into play with ground transport." The doctor took a moment before briefing Mac on the other option. "It's not ideal, but you could have him sedated for the trip."
Mac groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes in frustration. "He'd never agree to that. Not a chance."
"I know. He's not in the appropriate state to make these decisions. You do have final say."
Mac growled and paced back and forth while ranting, "I can't do that to him. He'd never agree to it, and I could never shake the guilt from forcing that on him without his consent."
"You can still think about your options. Nothing would happen until tomorrow morning anyway."
"Ok. Thanks for filling us in." Mac shook the doctor's hand and set off to find his friends who had rejoined Jack in his room.
"Maaaaac." Jack drawled as Mac entered the room. Riley and Bozer were standing on either side of the bed, chatting with a slightly more coherent Jack.
"How are you feeling?" Mac asked him.
"I'm trippin balls, but that's ok because I don't even have to get out of bed to pee. I got this handy dandy little bottle to do it in. Which is good because I'd probably fall on my face if I tried to get up. And I'm pissin' like every hour even though I haven't had anything to drink. Hey Mac, you 'member that one time we were so stumblin ass drunk in your kitchen that we couldn't walk to the bathroom? And I wanted to crawl outside and piss off the side of the deck and you said no 'cuz I'd fall off and just to go in the kitchen sink."
Mac tried to stop the ramble, "I thought we were going to keep that story between us."
Jack thought he was whispering to Bozer, but his volume hadn't changed, "but I told him you would be pissed if we did that." He paused and smiled a sloppy drunk grin. "Pun intended!" Jack put his hand up to high five Bozer and noticed they were both wrapped from his fingers halfway down his forearm. He dropped his hands into his lap with defeat and finished the story. "So Mac here improvised, like he always does, and got like 6 Gatorade bottles out of the fridge and dumped them out in the sink and we used them. Prob'ly woulda been smart to drink the Gatorade instead and maybe we woulda not been so hung over the next mornin'."
Riley was appalled. "Tell me you didn't put the bottles back in the fridge."
Jack shrugged and giggled, "I think you woulda figured that one out pretty quick if we had."
Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Men are so gross."
The door opened before Mac even had time to find a place to sit. The look on the nurse's face was their cue to leave. "Get some rest," Riley stood, kissing him as again on the top of the head and ruffling his hair. "We'll be back soon."
Jack blushed at the affection and attention, then reciprocated Bozer's awaiting fist bump. Mac approached the bed before leaving, "Make sure you do what they say while we're gone." Mac embraced the helicopter parent role reversal. Jack nodded his acknowledgement with the sheepish smile of a disobedient toddler. "I mean it, Jack. I'm going to ask the staff and hold you to it." He tried to be stern yet playful to cover up the fear and anxiety that had plagued him over the last day and a half. He didn't want to leave, but didn't have a choice. "And I better not get any drunk dials from you until you've had a good solid nap. Ok?" Mac wasn't sure how to end the visit, without saying 'goodbye' or making some awkward formal gesture, especially with an outsider watching. Bozer's fistbump seemed natural enough and didn't appear to aggravate anything that was damaged or broken on Jack. Mac extended his fist and was met with a pathetic look of disdain.
Jack stared Mac down for a moment, refusing to return the requested fist bump. "Brothers don't shake hands, brothers gotta hug." Was Jack's excitedly drunken response. Mac looked to the nurse for approval before diving in to Jack's open arms. His grip didn't appear to be compromised by injury or drugs, and Jack held on tightly as Mac relished the moment, soaking in the energy he'd missed. Neither man could hide his smile or relief, each unwilling to release the hug; they held on tightly to each other until Jack relaxed back into his pillows, sound asleep.