The following days went by for Mac in a monotonous everyday-work. Every new day he went out with another unit, every day someone else was responsible for his safety and every day he disarmed mines or bombs and saved the lives of civilians or his comrades. In the evenings he showered, caught some food and fell into an uneasy sleep with different scary dreams. His mind tried to get along with the events of Marvin's death, his abduction and the long way through the desert. He couldn't make out any sense of it all and therefore couldn't find peace. In these days he missed Bozer, the house of his grandpa Harry and even the MIT. For the first time he really was rueful for giving up his studies and being in a warzone on the other side of the world. He felt lonelier than ever before.

On the next morning he was assigned to a unit that should check a certain road and in the afternoon they would go north. They brought him back to base at noon and Mac had the pleasure to 'enjoy' an early quitting time.
He wasn't happy at all about that. As long as he could concentrate on disarming explosives his thoughts never went in circles about the war, his work or his possible scientific experiments at college for nothing. Maybe he would try to get Bozer on the phone later.

When he came back to his place, he saw that the empty cot of Marvin was occupied again. A sniper-rifle hung there. The cap was down on the ground. Mac picked it up, took the rifle without taking it off. With a few simple movements he fixed the cap, when a hand landed heavy on his shoulder.
"Hey, brat! What're ya doin'?"
The voice was tense with hardly suppressed anger. Mac turned around and saw a very angry face. He still held the rifle in his hands.
"The cap was down on the ground. I fixed it."

Even before Mac could give more explanations a fist hit his face. The rifle fell out of his hand and swung back and forth at the bedpost. The cap held.
"None of your business!"
Mac shook his head. The hit came surprisingly, he wasn't prepared for that. He blinked, ducked his head just in time before the next aiming fist reached his face and tried to get back a few steps.
"Are you crazy? What's wrong with you?"
The unknown man attacked him again, caught him at his shoulders and tossed him around. Mac stumbled backwards but held his balance. Okay, if this primitive guy wanted it that way…
This time Mac attacked him. With all his force he tackled his opponent against the bedframe. Content, he heard a sigh. His happy emotion didn't last long. A fist to his stomach hit very hard, another went up against his chin, let his head snap backwards and a left hook sent him tumbling down to the ground. Mac's rival was fast, faster than he expected. Now the guy knelt over him and his fist aimed at him again. With full force! Mac already felt the taste of blood in his mouth. It wasn't fun anymore!

He tried to protect himself, the other soldiers cheered up, screamed at the two brawlers and betted on one or the other. They both were equal fighters besides their very different body shape and finally they lay on the ground in a clear stand-off. Only severe injuries would bring a decision, but until now none of the fighters wanted to go that step. Just at that moment their superiors came into the tent. It didn't make Mac's situation better. What he had to hear now frustrated him more. The brutal, primitive Texan – if you could believe the accent – was his new overwatch! What did he do wrong to earn such a punishment? Mac not only sighed inwardly. They talked about some things, so also Dalton wasn't equally happy at all. The comment about Pena was hard for Mac. He had to brace himself up to not go after that idiot again. Angry and with teary eyes Mac turned around, lay down on his own cot and avoided his new partner. At the memory of his old instructor Mac wanted to hole up. He wiped over his eyes, swallowed down his anger and grief and tried to sleep. Hopefully this mouthy guy would not be responsible for him the whole 64 days of his tour.

The next morning Dalton surprised him. When Mac arrived at the humvee, his overwatch was leaning against the door.
"Do you have everything you need?"
It sounded quite friendly, not at all urging, unnerved or impatient. Mac nodded. Dalton opened the back side for him and he put his stuff inside.
"There's water and protein bars already. Enough for us both. If you need more, go get some and then we start our day."
Mac took a short look at the stocks. "That's enough. Where do we go?"
While Jack got on the driver seat, he explained their mission. Precise specifications in all details to what they could expect. Mac turned astonished to his driver.
"Thanks."
"For what?" Now it was Jack who looked critical at the young specialist.
"For telling me the calculation of our situation."
Jack just hummed as an answer and for a while they both stayed silent. Mac bent a paper clip without recognizing what he did. Jack watched the quick, precise movements of the long, slender fingers. Long before Mac threw the small sculpture regardless into the center console, Jack recognized the form of his rifle.

They came nearer to the small village. A busy market in the center and a few sparely used alleys, two bigger streets that crossed and some warehouses, private houses and small shops at the outskirts. Slowly Jack drove through the village and stopped at an outstanding storehouse, where someone detected a suspect device. Mac wanted to open the door, but a hand on his forearm stopped him instantly.
"What're ya doin'?"
"I- uhm- I take my things out of the car and go into the building?"
"Wrong Carl's junior," Jack corrected. "You stay here inside until I tell you to go out. Capisce?"
"But-," Mac tried to justify.
Jack's voice didn't accept any protest. "There's no 'But'! You want to come home in one piece? Alive and breathing? Good. The next 63 days you will survive, but only if you do what I tell you to do! As long as we're out on a mission and it's about your safety, you listen to me. As soon as we're back at base I don't care. Ya hear me?"
He talked with his partner like he was a petulant child. Mac looked at him with wide eyes and nodded. Jack could literally see the wheels of his brain running around behind the confused gaze. Oh dear, the rumors were right! This kid caused trouble. Orders were definitely not his thing!

That day they worked together very quiet. Jack established the rule to go out of the humvee first, look for a safe place and give Mac a sign to start.
Then he recognized that also the rumor about the slowest EOD in the whole world was right at some point. Every single explosive took a very long time to defuse. But this was a point, Jack couldn't or wouldn't change. His EOD should take his time. No matter how long. Jack didn't know anything about disarming bombs, he just had to watch over the boy and therefore he stayed at one place for hours if that was what was needed. At the third bomb he started to talk about his beautiful home, great stories about Texas. He also talked about his childhood or youth and his big family that was a great basic for a lot of funny events. Sometimes Mac groaned or smiled without being distracted from his work.