The Kitchen, Downtown Los Angeles
Present Day
0115 hrs
Matty
The room was completely silent when Jack stopped speaking.
It was almost as though every person held their breath, seeing the daring Kiowa rescue, feeling the weight of the wounded, grieving the silence of the dead. Matty sat with her fingers over her mouth, trying valiantly to hide the pain and the horror she felt listening to what two of her team had lived through, knowing it was only one of many stories of that nature Jack could tell.
"I didn't…," Flynn's emotion-rough voice cut through the quiet. "No one told me."
Matty's eyes shifted from Jack's anguished eyes to Flynn's haunted expression and she was suddenly irrationally relieved that Mac was unconscious. She didn't think she could bear his pain at reliving that day in Kandahar as well.
"I didn't know it was you," Flynn tried again, clearing his throat. "All I remember was…was Mac getting the suicide vest off Tommy and then…." He shook his head. "Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the infirmary and they told me I was heading home."
The room was quiet as Flynn gathered his thoughts.
"Willis came by once before I was sent to a hospital in Germany," Flynn revealed. "Told me about Gates and Tommy. But…just said that it was the RPG."
"Might've been all he could remember," Jack offered, his voice rough from speaking. "Trauma does weird things to your head."
"I shoulda…I shoulda said something," Flynn continued, his eyes on the middle distance, shiny with tears. "Done something. I shoulda found you guys."
"You made it home, Hoss," Jack asserted. "That's what matters."
Flynn looked over at him then, his expression incredulous. "You carried me out of there, man. And I…I never even thanked you."
Jack's eyes went distant, his face lined with an unnamed emotion. Matty watched him, waiting. Wondering.
"I wanted to leave you behind," Jack confessed. "Minute I saw that Mac wasn't gonna make it to the helo, I was ready to leave you, so I could get him out of there."
"But, you didn't," Flynn pressed.
Jack shook his head, wiping emotion from his face with one hand. "I didn't."
"Why?"
Jack huffed a pained laugh. "I couldn't imagine the look on his face when I told him I picked him over you. He'd...he would never have forgiven me."
Flynn nodded, and Matty saw Ben stand up to change out the bag of IV saline.
"What did he say when he found out about Tommy?" Flynn asked.
Jack's face seemed to fold in on itself, and Matty took a slow breath, working to keep her expression neutral in the wake of Jack's pain. He simply shook his head, unable to answer the question.
"No wonder Mac had nightmares about that," Bozer said quietly, and Matty thought she heard the choke of tears threaded through his words. "He'd never talk about it, not in details, but…," he sniffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Nothing really seemed to make it better, y'know?"
"It's not the kind of things you can fix with pancakes," Jack nodded, then slid a half-smile toward Bozer. "No matter how good they are."
"What happened when you got back to base?" Riley asked, her eyes pinned to Mac's blood-stained face, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed lids as though he were seeing everything Jack shared with them. "I mean…he didn't go home?"
Jack shook his head. "He got patched up, was on medical leave for a bit, but…," Jack carded his fingers backwards through Mac's tangled, blood-crusted hair. "He's damn good at his job. And they needed him. For thirty more days."
"And then, what," Riley pressed. "You just went to work for…, uh…the think tank?"
Jack glanced over at Matty, and she wondered if he were thinking about being recruited by Patricia Thornton, wondering if he were making the connection to James MacGyver's Oversight, the puppet master behind almost every choice Mac thought he'd made on his own.
"Something like that," Jack said softly, frowning as Mac shifted suddenly, his wounded arm twitching, head jerking to the side as if avoiding a blow. "Whoa, there, bud," Jack said suddenly, a hand coming up to cup the back of Mac's head. "Easy."
It had been over an hour since Mac had last stirred. Matty was thankful for the reprieve—for all their sakes. But it didn't seem as though Mac would be getting a break for much longer. A low groan echoed from inside the oxygen mask and Jack pushed himself a bit further upright so that he could shift his hold on Mac.
"Hey, Mac," Jack said softly, eyes flicking up to Ben, then over to where Flynn had climbed to his knees. "You're okay, man."
Mac's eyes opened slowly, the blue irises dulled by pain. Matty stood up, moving cautiously forward as she saw the young agent's left hand come up in a clumsy swipe at the oxygen mask. She registered the exact moment they were in trouble: Mac's eyes widened, and he dug his heels into the cushioned bench, pushing back against Jack.
"It's okay! Hey…hey, easy," Jack tried, grabbing for Mac's flailing hand.
Matty could hear Mac's ragged, panicked breaths echoing off the oxygen mask as the terrified agent tried desperately to escape the perceived torture. Ben was trying to grab Mac's arm as well, trying to keep the IV in place. Mac curled his hand into a trembling fist. Jack was at a bad angle, trying to keep from hitting Mac's wounded shoulder as he held his partner against him.
"Mac, easy, man. Hey," Jack tried to calm his partner, but Matty could hear Mac gasping out panicked words.
"Can't…can't breathe…can't breathe…."
"Yes, you can," Jack told him. "If you can talk, you can breathe."
"Nnngghhh…."
"You gotta calm down, kid," Jack crooned. "Hey, Angus, listen to me, man. You're okay. I promise you're okay."
But Mac was having none of it. A low, almost keening sound had started to build up from his chest, the table cloth blanket having slipped down to his waist, the sunburst bruise on his sternum seeming to stretch as Mac panted for air.
Matty shook her head. She couldn't take this anymore.
"Take it off him," Matty ordered, her voice surprising the men surrounding the young agent. "He needs to believe he's safe," she continued, calling out over the low moans and ragged gasps. "He's scared, just take it off him."
Flynn reached up and pulled the oxygen mask free, Jack grabbing it and sliding it over Mac's head. Mac dropped his head back against Jack's shoulder, grabbing for air with trembling lips. Flynn leaned over until he was in Mac's eyeline.
"That's it, man. You're good," Flynn encouraged. "You're okay."
"Where's…Jack?" Mac wrecked voice made Matty wince.
She marveled for a moment at the fact that no matter what condition Mac was in, Jack was the first person he sought. Her musing yesterday morning hadn't been far off: without one the other simply wasn't whole.
"Right here, bud," Jack said his mouth near Mac's ear in the position he was in. "I got you."
Mac blinked and turned his head slightly toward his partner's voice. Matty grimaced as she saw the bandage Ben had wrapped around his head was now stained red over the deep cut along Mac's hairline. His panicked thrashing had apparently opened the wound. Her eyes darted to his shoulder, and she was relieved to see the bandage was still white.
"What…how did we…get out?" Mac reached across his chest and Jack grabbed his flailing hand, anchoring him.
"Out of what?" Flynn asked, easing back to give Mac visibility to the room—although a room lit by cell phone flashlights, several of which had faded due to low charge, was hardly something the concussed agent would recognize.
"Where's…Tommy?" Mac asked, his voice slurring, his breathing barely slowing down. "Need to get…get the vest…."
Matty met Jack's eyes and saw that he realized it the same moment she did: Mac had heard him. The whole time he'd been talking about Kandahar, Mac had been listening on some level, the vividness of Jack's retelling acting as a vocal anchor.
"Oh, shit," Flynn breathed, stepping back until he was next to Matty. He reached up, shoving his hands through his tangled, black hair. "I'm sorry…God, I'm so sorry…."
Jack eased Mac further upright and shifted to the side so that he was in a better position to look Mac in the face. She saw Mac's blue eyes dart quickly around the room, confusion tangled in his expression, until Jack's hands cupped either side of his head, his thumbs gently bracing the younger man's jawline.
"Hey, bud."
Mac stared back at Jack, and Matty could see him fighting to get his breathing under control.
"Need you to slow your breathing down, just a little bit, you hear me?"
Mac nodded, Jack's hands moving with the motion.
"Just one easy breath," Jack crooned. "You got this."
Mac pulled in a slow breath, never taking his eyes off his partner. Jack nodded, then encouraged another slow breath until Mac was back to the less-panicked rhythm of before. Behind her, Matty heard a prayer being whispered and another person mutter, "Can't take much more of this…we have to get out of this place."
She wasn't sure who said it, but she agreed. As Jack and Ben checked Mac's bandages and Ben reattached the IV, Matty found Riley, taking the young hacker's chilled hand in hers.
"Matty, I…," Riley's voice was trembling, her eyes luminous in the glow of the cell phone lights. She was watching Jack and Mac, anguish for her friends evident in her expression. "This is just…so not good. He's…I've never seen him so…so hurt. And confused. I mean, Mac's never confused. He's always four steps ahead of all of us."
"You're doing great, Riley," she said, drawing the girl's dark eyes down to hers. "You're keeping us all balanced, you know that?"
Riley's chin quivered slightly, but she pulled the emotion in. "I'm not doing much."
"You're doing more than you know," Matty said. "But I need you to do it for a little longer."
"You want me to check in?" Riley asked. "See how much longer—"
"This is the L.A. County Fire Department," the radio on the belt of Riley's dress squawked, making them both jump. Riley picked it up before they could finish saying, "I need to speak to Riley Davis."
"This is Riley," she said into the radio. "Tell me you guys have something."
"We have something," the woman on the other end reported. "I need you to get everyone as far away from the West side wall as possible."
"West side…?" Riley looked at Flynn for help.
The young chef looked pained as he pointed toward where Jack, Mac, and Ben were hunched on the bench.
"What are you going to do?" Riley asked.
"We are going to drop an inflatable rescue air cushion through the same hole we've sent supplies," the woman informed them. "We need you to inflate it against that wall—it's apparently the one that is holding up the others. We stabilize that, and we can pull another away to get you out of there."
Riley looked around at the survivors, then at Matty, her eyes large with the burden of responsibility.
"Okay, give us a minute."
"Bozer," Matty called. "Clear a space over here, on the far wall, and put some of the table cloths down." As Bozer got into motion, Matty and Flynn began to wave the patrons away from the West side wall, pulling the heavy tables with them as potential protection.
"We need to get Mac over there," Matty said, looking at Jack, who was now sitting next to his partner, Mac slumped against him, Jack's arm anchoring him at the waist.
Jack nodded. "Hey, bud, you ready for a change of scenery?"
But Mac wasn't looking at Jack—his eyes were tracking around the room, following the beams of light that illuminated the crumbling ceiling, lines of concentration rather than pain pulling his brows forward. Matty frowned, watching as he scanned the jigsaw puzzle formation of walls that had trapped them in this portion of the restaurant for the last several hours.
"Mac?" She called.
"The walls," he said, wincing as Jack helped him sit forward. "…the walls are wrong."
"Yeah, kid," Jack was standing next to him, one hand on his back, the other gripping his left arm where Ben had detached the IV, leaving the catheter inserted into the back of Mac's hand. "You probably don't remember the earthquake—"
"The…the walls, Jack," Mac tried, gripping Jack's shirt with his left hand. "They're…ahhh," he winced as Jack lifted him to his feet. He leaned heavily on Jack as his partner slid his left arm across his shoulders. "They're…wrong."
"Holy shit, he's totally lost it," DeAngelo muttered, sounding slightly dismayed by that fact.
"No, wait," Flynn was moving toward the front of the building. "Look, he's right." He pointed to where the beam DeAngelo's earlier escape attempt had dislodged and crashed through the break in the walls. "They can't see it from the outside—but the beam tilted the walls. If they shore up the West wall and move the South…they'll both fall in."
"Damn, kid," Jack breathed, easing Mac to the other side of the room. "That brain of yours sure is something."
Riley jumped on the radio, relaying the message that they needed to focus on the South wall—and why. Outside, Matty could hear sirens getting closer, the sound of a large truck reversing, shouts of people seemingly just on the other side of the wall. It had been so quiet for so long—they could have been the last people on Earth—to hear the commotion of actual rescue had the patrons stirring, murmuring, rising from the ground to press close to each other, staring balefully at the collapsed walls.
"Riley?" the radio squelched.
"I'm here," Riley replied.
"Make sure everyone is away from that supply drop area."
"It's clear," Riley reported.
All eyes except Matty's were on the opening at the far end of the small room. She was watching Mac. The blond was conscious, but his eyes were clouded, his breath stuttering. Jack had eased him to the floor, sitting close so that Mac slumped against him. He seemed to be staring at a point across the room, but she doubted he was seeing anything here. His left hand curled a fist into Jack's shirt, the grip like a lifeline. His right lay limp across his lap, the fingers there twitching at irregular intervals.
She moved to kneel next to Jack, reaching up to smooth Mac's hair from his forehead, her motion drawing Jack's eyes.
"You're going to get out of here, Blondie," she said softly. Mac blinked slowly, his eyes tracking toward the sound of her voice, his head lolling on Jack's shoulder. "You're going to heal up, and you're going to get back to work. Do you hear me?"
"Matty?" Mac murmured, his brows folding slightly.
Matty smiled. "Hey there," she greeted when his eyes finally found hers. "You got a lot more good to do in this world, Baby Einstein. So, you stick with us. That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, blinking sluggishly.
Jack tightened his hold on Mac when the large, inflatable mattress dropped through the hole in the ceiling. The crash it made when it hit the debris inside had several people crying out and stepping back. The minute it hit the floor, Flynn, Bozer, and the young Marine were after it, pulling it into position against the South wall.
The packaged mattress was roughly half Bozer's height and about five feet wide; it took all three men and considerable force to position it. The rescue worker on Riley's walkie-talkie shared careful instructions on how best to ensure it supported the wall when inflated.
"We need to back up more," Matty said, looking at the space available and the size of the inflatable. "Flynn," she called, "get a cord or tie some table cloths together and attach it to the pull tab."
"Why, Matty?" Bozer called back, puzzled.
"Because whoever gets the short straw to pull this thing is going to get squashed," Flynn muttered, digging through the bench seat for an extension cord.
"Everyone else, get back," Matty ordered. "As far as you can."
The room seemed to move at once, bodies pressing together and against the far wall, the survivors anxious to get out, but worried for each other's safety. Jack was already pressed against a corner, but drew Mac up closer to him, causing the young agent to suck in air at the movement.
"Riley?" called the rescue worker on the radio. "You give me the all clear when the inflatable is open, copy?"
"I copy," Riley replied. She looked at Flynn, nodding.
Flynn uncoiled the extension cord, now tied to the release tab, backing up until he was level with Jack. Matty noticed that Bozer and the young Marine flanked him until they created a human wall of protection between the rest of the room and the wounded agent. She couldn't see Mac from where she was positioned next to Riley and Leanna, but she could hear Jack's low murmurs of comfort and reassurance.
"You guys ready to get the hell out of here?" Flynn asked, wrapping the cord once around his hand.
"Just a minute," DeAngelo replied.
Matty blinked over at him in surprise.
"I just want to say," he looked over toward where Ben was sitting, then up at the human wall protecting Mac and Jack, "that this has been the worst night of my life."
"In that case," replied the elderly gentleman, standing in the back corner, arms around his wife, her face tucked against his chest, "you're a lucky man."
"That's the truth," DeAngelo agreed, surprising Matty once again. He looked over at Flynn. "Pull that son of a bitch."
Flynn took that as his cue and yanked on the cord. The inflatable mattress instantly triggered, filling up half the room and pressing against the South wall and part of the West due to its size.
"The mattress is in place," Riley said into the radio.
"Tell everyone to cover their heads and close their eyes," the rescue worker ordered. "You ready?"
"Ready!" Riley called back.
One hand shielding her eyes, Matty peeked out to see what appeared to be a rather giant claw cut through the cement on the West wall, clamping down and hauling the rapidly crumbling structure back and away. The noise was intense. For several minutes, she couldn't hear her own breathing; it was simply cracking concrete and screaming metal.
But then, a huge section of the wall broke off, and fresh air poured in. She heard several of the patrons sob in relief, not having realized how stifling the air in their little cave had become.
"Stay where you are, folks!" called a voice from the exterior of the restaurant. "Need to clear away some of this debris and we can get you out of there."
Matty dropped her hand and stepped forward, watching as a large bulldozer scraped away chunks of metal and cement, pieces of the bench seat, table tops and chairs. When the path was clear, several people dressed in firefighter gear stepped into the restaurant.
"Where can I find Riley Davis?" called a familiar female voice.
Riley stepped forward. "I'm Riley Davis."
A slim, black woman approached, helmet missing from her gear, a wide smile on her pretty face. "Lynette Welles," she said, holding out her hand. "L.A. County Fire Department. It's good to finally meet you."
Riley grinned, taking Lynette's hand, then gave the other woman a hug. "Thank you," she said, her voice tight. "Thank you, so much."
Three other firefighters moved toward the patrons on the far side of the room, escorting them through the opening. Lynnette looked past Riley.
"You have an injured man?"
Riley nodded, turning to point toward where Jack held Mac against him. Flynn, Bozer, and the young Marine stepped aside.
"My friend," she said. "He was caught in the explosion when the kitchen gas line blew."
Two EMTs moved through the crowd of people exiting the restaurant, one carrying a first aid box, the other an orange, portable stretcher. Ben stepped forward to meet them.
"I believe he has a TBI, based on confusion and unconsciousness," he reported. Matty was relieved when the EMTs paused to listen rather than dismiss him. "There is a deep puncture wound near the supraspinatus with a deep laceration down the bicep. He lost a lot of blood, I would estimate two liters, based on the saline input. Also…10 milligrams of morphine on board at roughly 2430."
"What about this bruise," asked one of the EMTs as he knelt next to Mac.
"That wasn't from the explosion," Ben offered, looking at Jack.
Jack cleared his throat. "He took a bullet to a Kevlar vest yesterday—wait, no two days ago. Hairline fracture to the sternum."
"What's his name?" asked the second EMT.
"Call him Mac," Jack instructed.
"Mac," the EMT repeated, leaning toward MacGyver. "I'm Nick and this is George. We're gonna get you out of here so you can get to feeling better. Sound good?"
Mac's eyes were lidded, but he seemed to be aware of the new voice. He blinked slowly, his fist tightening on Jack's shirt. The EMTs left Ben's catheter in place in the back of Mac's hand, replacing the saline bag, then checked Mac's pupil reaction, pulse, and blood pressure.
"BP's 90 over 50, pulse…pulse is tachycardic," Nick reported. "Let's get him on the board."
Lynnette put her hand on Matty's shoulder. "You all can go, now." Her eyes took in Bozer and Flynn.
"We'll wait for him, ma'am," the young Marine replied. "Want to make sure he gets out of here."
Flynn nodded in agreement, and Matty watched the eyes in the room follow the sure movements of the two EMTs as they eased a Cervical collar around Mac's neck. Nick noticed the grip Mac had on Jack's shirt, shifting his eyes to meet Jack's.
"Hey, bud," Jack said softly, wrapping his hand around Mac's slim fingers. "You gotta let go for a little bit. I'll be right beside you the whole way."
Mac frowned but allowed Jack to pull his hand free. The EMTs eased Mac onto the portable stretcher—the people in the room grimacing as one when the young blond groaned at the movement—and strapped him in so that his arms were crossed over his bruised chest. On a three count, both EMTs stood, lifting Mac fluidly and heading toward the opening in the restaurant. Jack followed immediately, as though tethered to his partner.
Matty looked at Bozer and Riley, nodding. They followed, joined by the young Marine. Flynn was the last man out. Matty heard him sigh, heavily.
"It was a good restaurant," he said softly.
She patted his arm. "It will be again."
Good Samaritan Hospital, Downtown Los Angeles
Present Day
0400 hrs
Matty
She would have preferred her team be transported to Phoenix Foundation Medical, but for the moment, she would acquiesce to the closest hospital available. Jack had ridden with Mac in one ambulance, Kira taking a second, and the elderly couple a third. Everyone else had been relegated to their own transportation—if the quake hadn't dropped a billboard on their car, as was the case with two of the patrons—or a cab.
The property damage and devastation surrounding The Kitchen was almost unbelievable. It no longer appeared to be Los Angeles, but more of a war zone or disaster movie. Matty knew they would recover, but exiting the interior of the restaurant, greeted by rescue crews, brilliant blue and red lights, and construction machinery at two in the morning was not something easily compartmentalized.
At least by some.
She'd tried to order Riley, Leanna, and Bozer to go home and get some rest, but they refused, stubbornly insisting to join her at the hospital. They needed to know if Mac was okay as much as she did.
They found Jack in the waiting room. His blood-covered shirt had been replaced by a dark blue scrub top and he'd been able to wash the dirt and dust from his face and hands, but exhaustion and emotion lined his features and he tugged at the leather cuff on his wrist with distracted anxiety.
"Any word?" Matty asked, immediately.
Jack regarded her with exhausted eyes, but before he could say anything, another person entered the room, drawing their attention.
"I don't believe I properly introduced myself," said the elderly gentlemen Matty had first encountered directly after the initial quake, taking her hand politely. "My name is Richard Allen. My wife, Melissa, is resting comfortably upstairs. They decided to keep her for observation."
"Don't you want to be with her?" Riley asked.
Richard smiled. "Melissa and I have been through much worse than a little earthquake," he replied. "She wanted me to get news on that young man who saved us."
"I, uh," the young Marine from the restaurant said from the doorway. "I kinda was hoping for the same." He crossed the room to stand in front of Jack, saluting him. "Lance Corporal Martin Reyes," he said. "And I…I want to thank you, Sir. For what you did."
Jack blinked, shock plain in his expression. "I…I didn't do anything—"
"Except carry my ass outta the world's worst sandbox," Henry Flynn said as he entered the room. "And keep one of the smartest men I've ever met alive long enough to save our hides. Just, y'know. That."
Flynn held out his hand and Jack instinctively shook it, blinking back emotion as Flynn pulled him in for a tight hug.
"Don't suppose there's room in here for one more?"
"Holy shit," Bozer exclaimed looking up as DeAngelo walked into the room. "I thought you'd be three counties away right now, neck deep in Merlot."
"That makes two of us," DeAngelo huffed. "But…as it turns out…I couldn't not know if he was okay."
"Is there any news?" Reyes asked.
Matty looked over at Jack. They hadn't had a chance to get that far before the rest showed up.
"Doc came out and talked to me a little while after they took him back," Jack reported. "They're running a bunch of scans and tests, y'know," his hands trembled as he reached up to rub his short, spikey hair, "worried about the head wound, the cracked sternum, infection, blood loss, I mean. The works. Said it might take a while."
His breathing had sped up as he was talking. Riley stood and settled a hand on his arm.
"How about you sit down for a minute, Jack?"
He nodded and sat carefully on the edge of one of the chairs for a fraction of a second before popping back up again, pacing.
"Jack…."
"My hands are too empty, Matty," Jack said, his voice like a plucked guitar string. "All that time…all that time in there I felt like…like I was literally holding him together." He sat again, dropping his face into his hands, speaking from behind his fingers. "And now he's somewhere back there and he's confused and scared…and I'm…."
Matty stood up and crossed the room, standing directly in front of him.
"You're exactly where you need to be," she told him, resting a hand on his forearm. "When it comes to Mac, you're always exactly where you need to be."
Jack dragged his hands down his face, red from emotion. He sat up slightly, looking Matty in the eye. "Not always."
"Jack…." There were so many layers of pain in that look. So many broken pieces within this man. Irrationally, she wanted to wrap him up, hugging him hard enough all that was broken fit back together again.
"That deployment, Matty…," he shook his head. "It was as gruesome as they come. When we got back, they checked me out, cleared me for duty, and I…I just went back to it. Back to the barracks. Back to running patrols outside the wire. Took me almost two fucking days to go see him."
Matty listened, her expression neutral. "It was a lot for you to deal with, too. Not everyone can compartmentalize quite like our boy."
"Yeah, well," Jack shook his head. "He wasn't compartmentalizing that shit. Not at first anyway. Not like he does now. He took the news of Tommy's death…hard," Jack's voice tightened and Matty saw him flick a glance over her shoulder, presumably at Flynn. "He was having…bad nightmares. It was messing with his head; he wasn't getting better, and he should have been. My CO told me they were starting to sedate him, but…."
"That just made it worse," Flynn guessed.
Jack nodded. "I had to get special permission to stay in the infirmary. And when I got there, Matty. He…he wasn't…he wasn't Mac. Y'know?"
Matty nodded, tears burning her eyes as she listened, her gaze steady on Jack's face.
"It wasn't until then I realized…man, this kid had no one. I mean, I knew his history. I knew his mom died when he was little, and his old man bailed not long after, and his granddad died just before he joined up, but…I didn't really get what that meant for him until that moment." He rubbed the top of his head, a jaw muscle flexing. "There was no one to call. No one to send letters. No one to worry about him. No one."
He sniffed glancing over at Bozer. "You were his best friend, but…you were just a kid yourself, man."
"I know," Bozer replied solemnly. "I was too caught up in my own shit to really be there for him. Even when he came back, I didn't really know how to help him. What to do. Only thing that really seemed to snap him out of it was you convincing him to…y'know, take this job with you."
Jack licked his lips. "I started hanging out in the infirmary when I wasn't filing out some report or heading on a patrol. The more I stayed there, the more he was able to rest. The more he seemed to…to surface. It was like life had grabbed him by the ankles and just yanked down. Hard. And he was trying to get to the top. I could see him trying. I could see him looking for the air. But…it was just. It was hard to breathe."
"For both of you," Matty commented.
Jack looked at her, then looked away, swallowing hard. "One of those nights in that infirmary, I was just sitting there. Just waiting until he was good and asleep. And I look over and I see this tear. Just one tear," he motioned at the corner of his right eye. "It just slid from his eye and I watched it trace this path along his cheek and disappear into his hair. He wasn't really awake, but…he wasn't really asleep either."
He cleared his throat, looking at the floor. Matty stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"I knew then that when our tour was up, I was on that kid's six for life," he looked up, but not at Matty. Not at anything. "Wherever it took us."
"He's back with us now, Jack," Matty reminded him, thinking of the late nights, the early mornings, during the months Mac had been in Nigeria, when Jack would haunt the War Room, desperate for any news. "He has a new focus and he has his family."
"Yeah," Jack nodded, giving her a teary smile. "Yeah, he does."
Matty leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Jack, closing her eyes when he hugged her back. They had a complicated past, but no matter his faults, Matty would shut down anyone who dared even hint that Jack Dalton's heart wasn't as big as his home state of Texas.
After a bit, they all settled in to wait. Bozer got everyone coffee. Leanna fell asleep on his shoulder. Riley stretched out on the small sofa next to Jack, her feet across his lap. Flynn flipped through the same magazine over and over. Richard Allen fell asleep, head tipped back against the wall. Lance Corporal Reyes stayed on guard at the door. DeAngelo flipped through the TV channels on mute.
Almost three hours after they all arrived at the hospital, a doctor came to the room asking for the family of Angus MacGyver. Everyone stood up. The doctor blinked, but then focused as Jack stepped forward.
"I'm listed as his next of kin," Jack said, his voice tight.
The doctor nodded. "Barring any further complications, we feel Mr. MacGyver should recover."
Matty felt almost dizzy with relief. The room exhaled, and she heard Riley stifle a sob.
"He's got a bit of a road ahead of him," the doctor continued. "He has a grade 3 concussion, which will require rest and could result in some temporary memory lapses. We've cleaned and repaired the damage to his shoulder, and we believe we'll be able to combat the infection with antibiotics, but he's going to need some physical therapy to regain full motion of that arm." The doctor sighed. "The fractured sternum caused some internal bleeding, which was putting pressure on his heart, but we were able to drain the fluid and once the bruising heals, that shouldn't cause him further problems. Assuming he doesn't take a bullet to a Kevlar plate again anytime soon."
"Noted," Matty said quietly.
"Can we see him?" Jack asked.
"He's resting, and will be out for quite a while," the doctor told him. "I suggest you all go home and get some rest; you can see him later tomorrow."
"Please, Doc," Jack implored, stepping forward. "I gotta see him."
The doctor looked at Jack for a moment, then nodded. "But just two of you, and only for a few minutes."
Jack's shoulders sagged with relief. He turned to regard the room.
"Matty should go with you," Riley declared. "We can see him tomorrow."
Bozer and Leanna nodded in agreement. Matty looked at the others who'd joined them. Flynn stepped forward.
"Keep us posted, Dalton," he instructed. "I want to thank the guy in person this time."
"Same," Reyes nodded.
Richard crossed the room and shook Jack's hand. "It has been my sincere honor to listen to your story. You are a credit to our country, and you have redefined the word 'brother' for me today."
Matty swallowed, trying in vain to keep the emotion from her expression as she saw tears swim in Jack's eyes.
"Thank you," Jack said, nodding once to the elderly gentleman.
DeAngelo paused as he started for the door. "Well, I don't have anything half as great as that to say, but…I do want to know how the kid is doing."
Jack offered the man a half smile, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."
As everyone filed out of the waiting room, Matty and Jack followed the doctor to Mac's room. When they entered, Matty felt herself catch her breath. The young agent looked so…so small in the bed.
His head was wrapped in a clean bandage, his skin and hair now clean, bruises along his cheekbone and jaw that she'd missed under all the blood. A thick, white bandage covered his right arm from neck to wrist. He had an oxygen cannula stretched across his face and wires and leads snaking beneath the hospital gown, presumably attached to his chest.
Matty saw a heartrate monitor to the left of the bed, the sound muted, the number 84 flashing on the screen, a steady bounce of the thin green line tracking Mac's pulse. Jack crossed immediately to the left side of the bed, stepping close and taking Mac's hand. A new IV catheter had been inserted into his arm, the back of his left hand bandaged from where Ben had inserted the needle in the restaurant.
"Hey, bud," Jack said softly. Mac didn't so much as flinch. "I'm here, just like I promised."
Matty turned to the doctor. "I believe your patient will recover much faster if you allow this man to stay with him." She held up a hand, foreseeing the doctor's protest. "He will not be in the way; he has, unfortunately, a bit of practice when it comes to bedside vigils. But if you want MacGyver to respond to your treatment—and heed your advice—your chances improve by a factor of 90 if he sees Jack here when he wakes up."
The doctor regarded Matty for a long moment, then looked back to where Jack had one hip hitched up on Mac's bed and was studying the readout on the heartrate monitor intensely.
"I'll have a recliner brought in," he said finally. "But he's the only one."
"Agreed," Matty smiled. She crossed the room to the other side of Mac's bed. "Try to get some rest, Jack." He looked at her in surprise. "Remember, we need you in one piece if we're going to get Mac back together again."
Jack nodded, smiling softly at her. She looked at Mac, sighing.
"Oh, Blondie."
"He'll be okay, Matty," Jack said quietly. "He'll be okay, now."
He'd better, Matty thought. Because she didn't know what they would all do if they lost Mac.
"I know."