Wonder what the images are? Hum? What do you think?
Jack felt the kid start to push back after what seemed like forever, trying to disengage from his embrace. Jack loosened his grip on the boy but did not completely sever physical contact. He did however use one of his hands to grab Mac's chin and raise it so that they could be at eye level before he spoke to the boy.
Jack stared at beautiful blue eyes, red rimmed and filled with pain and anguish he had not seen there before; he swallowed hard before speaking calmly and softly to his partner; "Mac, brother…son…what were you doing out here with that gun?" Mac tried to turn his head away from him, to break eye contact, but Jack did not allow that, he pulled it back; "Mac, I need you to answer me; I need to know what I need to do next? I need to know how to help you son"
Mac sniffed and rubbed a hand across his eyes, swallowing hard, trying his best to not bust out crying again. He knew Jack was terrified at this point, he was probably thinking he was trying to kill himself with that gun and that he needed to gage the level of urgency with which he needed to engage an army of mental health professionals to help him. Mac was not trying to kill himself, at least he did not think he was, although it would not be the worse thing in the world he thought briefly, shaking the thought away immediately, afraid of it himself.
"I…I needed it" Mac said, surprising even himself.
"OK, what did you need it for? Jack asked as calmly as possible, still holding on to the kid's face and shoulder and keeping eye contact.
"It was helping me sort through some images", again, his own answer surprised him. "I am trying to figure out what they are, what they mean: I need to figure out what this is Jack! "
Mac's breathing, tone and demeanor was starting to change into one of panic; Jack squeezed the kid's shoulder hard, hard enough to cause pain to try and keep the kid grounded, while he spoke into the kid's ear, softly but firmly: "Mac, kiddo, listen to me, you're OK, you're safe, I need you to slow your breathing down son, OK? Breathe for me, in, out, slow and easy"
Mac heard Jack's voice through the turmoil that was in his head, he knew Jack was right, he was OK, why the hell was this so hard? Why was he so off kilter? Mac started to force himself to slow his breathing down, he closed his eyes and used Jack's voice as a light in his darkness to find his way back reality. He knew if he had any chance of getting through this…this…" episode", he needed Jack to help him, and not be shipped off to the nearest Psychiatric facility to be pumped full of medications and talked to death by strangers.
Once Jack felt his friend relax some, his breathing subdued to a more normal rate, he turned back his attention to the boy. Jack needed answers, he needed them now, or he was going to whisk the kid off to the ER immediately and let medical professionals, lots and lots of them, help his boy.
"Mac, what images?" I'm lost here boy, and I can't be lost, I need to be crystal clear as to what is going on, so I can help.
Mac nodded slowly, his fingers looking for something, anything to do, started to fidget with each other. His head was pounding again. His shoulder throbbing and the nausea was starting to return, Mac has to push through it though, this time he knew he had to.
"Um.. ever since the bank robbery; I've been having images assault me" Mac paused, gathering his thoughts, "I'm not sure what to make of them? They are vivid, they are jumbled, and they are confusing…"
Jack nodded, not really understanding, but willing to listen until he did. "What are they images off Angus?"
Jack's use of his first name got Mac to look at his friend straight on, it was oddly comforting. Mac continued speaking though as if he was alone in the room, suddenly reciting a story to himself.
"There were men, we were at a bank, I was 9" Mac stopped, took a breath and continued, "Grandpa and I were inside"
"OK, what happened next?" Jack prodded; he had pulled a chair over to sit beside the boy, still holding one hand on the kid's forearm, still not willing to disengage from physical contact with the kid.
"I'm… I'm not…. s-u-r-e", suddenly Mac's head felt like he was being stabbed by a thousand icepicks all at once' He moaned in pain bringing both hands up to hold his head as the world spun; he could feel all the color drain from his face.
Jack was startled, one second, he had the kid talking to him, the next he was holding a now unconscious blonde in his arms after the kid had basically passed out after holding his head and moaning in pain. "What the hell!" Jack swore, "Mac! Mac!, can you hear me? "Angus!" Nothing… dammit he swore under his breath, as he stood up placing one arm around the kid's shoulders and one behind Mac's knees, lifting him from the chair, still unconscious.
He brought the kid back inside and laid him on the couch; he then went back outside and grabbed the guns; he just did not want them accessible until he knew more, he went to his room and put the guns away, grabbed his cell and put it in his back pocket in case he needed to call 911, he then grabbed a blanket off his bed and went back to the living room where the kid was starting to come around.
"Jack?" Mac said as he came to, he could tell he was not outside anymore, he was lying down now, on something soft, a couch? Staring up at the ceiling fan, the fan's dizzying turns not helping his nausea, so he looked away and tried to figure out what the hell just happened?
Jack heard Mac call out for him as he approached the couch. "I'm here kiddo", he then shook the blanket out and proceeded to cover the kid with it. "How you are doing bud?" he asked as he got to kid's upper body, placing the back of his hand on the kid's forehead, just in case this was some weird fever-induced set of hallucinations or something, no such luck though he thought as he realized the kid was cool and a bit clammy rather than feverish.
"Did I pass out? Mac asked.
"Yep, you were talking one minute, out cold the next" I really wish you'd stop doing that kiddo, you know it freaks me out and just gives me more grey hairs. At this point Jack figured, a little levity would not be the worst thing, since he had a feeling this was going to be a very, very, long and crappy day for both of them.
"So, how are you feeling now kid?" Jack asked again.
"I'm..tired" Mac answered honestly, "but I'm OK I guess, a bit of a headache still"
Jack nodded. "Well if you're feeling OK, I need you to keep going bud, before you passed out you said that you and your grandpa had gone into a bank when you were 9, that there were some men there; what happened in that bank Mac?"
Jack hated to push the kid to keep talking when every instinct told him to lay off the boy, comfort him, make sure he was OK and not to cause him any more stress; but the protector, sensible, responsible, all be it terrified part of him, was telling he needed to get the kid to talk, to figure out what the hell all this was about, that if he didn't Mac may end up in a dark place again, and he may not get there in time next time.
Mac looked at Jack, a bit surprised that Jack was pushing to keep talking. Mac knew that normally if Jack knew he was in some sort of pain, especially if he admitted to it out loud, Jack would go full-on Papa-bear on him.
Mac closed his eyes, took a breath and picked up where he left off…