MacGyver wonders if he's been sent on a wild-goose chase. Not for the first time, where Jack Dalton is concerned.
But leave it to his niece to drag him out of his post-funeral stupor with a simple question:
"Jack was her best friend too, wasn't he?"
"Sure, Becky. We were all pretty tight, growing up in Mission City. Especially after Mike's mom Ruth adopted Jack. Allison nicknamed us the Three Musketeers, and Jack was so pleased with it the name stuck."
"I know you miss her a lot, Unc. And I'm sure Jack does, too. Neither of you should be mourning in solitude, not when you're both hurting so much."
"So what do you want me to do about it? If he wants to be left alone in his grief-"
"That's the problem, Unc. I have a feeling he shouldn't be, like he really needs you, or will pretty soon. Pete knows where he is, right?"
"Well, yeah. I think he mentioned having Nikki drive Jack up to his cabin last week."
"Then that's where you need to go. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
"But Beck-"
She rests a gentle hand on his arm, blue eyes full of a compassion and understanding well beyond her fifteen years. "No buts about it. Nobody's fine on their own, Unc. People need people. Go, be with Jack for as long as you need to. Get his head straight. And yours, too."
"If you're sure about this-"
"I'm sure. And tell him," she adds with a slightly impish smile, "I really miss our Saturday Movie Nights, that oughta get his attention. Then bring him home, to folks who care about him."
"Don't know what I did, to deserve you," he finally sighs, ruffling her hair. "What would I do without you in my life, huh?"
"Be an awful lot lonelier," she soberly replies. "And maybe you'd be in Jack's place, instead, and someone else would have to drag you back to life."
He figures she's probably right, all things considered.
So now here he is, at Pete's cabin way up in the Sierras. After driving on some terrible logging roads and almost blowing a tire.
If this is some perverse cosmic joke- if he's just lounging on the front porch, drinking beer or something-
But the cabin is empty.
Mac jogs down to the lake, scanning the shore. There- a familiar stocky figure, bobbing erratically in the waves.
What's Jack doing in the water? He never was much of a swimmer-
"Oh god, no," he pleads, running to the dock. Stripping off shoes and jacket then diving into the cool water. Driven by an adrenaline rush of fear he quickly reaches Jack, getting a rescuer's hold on him before towing him back to shore, all without knowing whether his friend was still alive.
He's completely limp in Mac's arms. No way to tell if he's even breathing.
With a grunt he heaves Jack onto the deck, then pulls himself up, resting his head briefly against the weathered wooden planks before checking out his friend.
No sign of respiration but there's a pulse- faint but there, a light beat against his fingertips.
Thank god.
Wasting no time, MacGyver begins applying mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, interspersed with rhythmic pushes on his chest. "C'mon Jack, don't do this to me! First Mike, now you. Can't lose you both."
There's a sudden movement beneath him. Jack begins to splutter and cough; Mac turns him over onto his side, rubbing his back until all the water's emptied out of his lungs. Before long he's able to breathe freely again.
"Easy, now. Just lie still. Don't move yet."
"Mac?" he rasped. "What're you doing here?"
"Saving your life again, what else? C'mon now, relax. Feeling better yet?"
"Yeah."
"Don't lie to me. You're still shivering. And you lost weight, too. What have you been doing, starving yourself?" Recovers his discarded jacket, draping it around Jack as he sits up, keeping his arm around his shoulders. "Let's rest here a couple minutes, then head back to the cabin. Get you warm and dry, then something solid to eat. Okay?"
Jack angrily shrugs the arm off. "Dammit Mac! Stop fussing. I'm all right."
"Not how it looked to me. What the heck were you doing in the water, anyway? You know you can't swim. Have you gone completely nuts on me?"
"I got distracted, fell in the water. That's all there was to it."
"That's not my point! You almost drowned. What if I hadn't come along when I did, huh?"
"Then I guess I would've been in trouble."
The flat, matter-of-fact tone sends a chill down Mac's spine. This was not his happy-go-lucky, outrageous friend talking. Someone with a death wish, perhaps.
Someone like himself, deep into mourning. If he didn't have Becky to keep him grounded, he might've been the one willing to drown.
The thought sends another shiver down his spine.
Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he reaches for his shoes, then stands up. "Jack, I'm freezing my tail off here. We can talk once we get inside."
"Don't wanna talk," Jack says churlishly, swaying, nearly falling back to his knees.
A firm arm around his back keeps him upright. "Then I'll talk and you listen. Geez, can't leave you alone these days without you getting into trouble, huh? C'mon, let's get outta here."
Without another word the two men shuffle back to the cabin, dripping trails of water along the way.
After a hot shower and change of clothes Jack slumps at the kitchen table, mouth sullenly drawn, shaking his head at the mug of steaming, fragrant dark liquid placed in front of him.
"Jack, drink it already. Do you good."
His nose wrinkles as the mug is nudged closer.
"Jack-"
"Don't wanna."
MacGyver sighs heavily. "Okay, whatever. It's been a long day and I'm too tired to argue. Just tell me what's going on with you."
"Nothing to tell."
"Don't give me that garbage! I've known you too long for that."
"Then you oughta know when to back off. What're you doing here, anyway?"
"Other than making sure you haven't burned Pete's cabin to the ground?" Mac collapses in the chair opposite him, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Would you believe Becky sent me? She had a feeling something bad was gonna happen if I didn't find you. Wouldn't stop pestering me, until I finally gave in."
"Persistent, huh? Runs in the family."
"Yeah. Plus, she reminded me of something the other day. Something I'd pretty much forgotten about, lately."
"What's that?"
Mac shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You know me, Jack. Never asking anyone else for help, feeling I've got no right to burden them with my problems. What didn't occur to me until Becky brought it up, though, was the fact you guys might not mind sharing the burden in the first place. She reminded me that friendship's a two-way street, sharing the bad times with the good. Same as what she and I do for each other, as family."
"Smart kid." Jack takes a good long look at the taller man seated across from him, dismayed by the signs of fatigue and worry. "Looks like she sent you up here for another reason, too. When was the last time you slept, compadre?"
"Been a while," Mac confesses. "Not properly since Mike's funeral, anyway."
"Me neither." Slumping with his own weariness, Jack looks away, not knowing what to say. The fact of their friend's absence makes the silence grow heavier between them.
Finally Mac clears his throat. "Losing Mike like that- at least she didn't die climbing that rock face alone. Keep thinking that if only I'd been with you guys, then maybe-"
Jack waves him silent. "Hey, Mac. What's done is done, you know? God knows I've been shouldering the blame enough for both of us lately, and pretty hard, too."
"You? But it wasn't your fault, Jack. Sheer accident, that's all it was. The rope snapped due to fatigue, you weren't to blame."
"Yeah, my head knows that. But you see, she'd told me on that ledge she wanted to pursue more of a serious relationship with me." Mac's eyebrows rise. "Hard to believe, right? Yours truly, lovable ladies' man Jack Dalton, fancy-free charmer. So wrapped up in myself I didn't even notice when she was actually proposing. Maybe she was too distracted by my brush-off to notice the rope was frayed, you know?"
Brings himself to take a sip of coffee. Not bad, if getting lukewarm.
"Thing is, if I'd thought about it, really thought about what she was telling me, I would've said yes."
"You think it would've made that much of a difference?"
"Well, maybe not. But at least she'd have died happy, knowing someone loved her as more than a friend. But enough about me. Care for some hard-earned advice?"
Mac shrugs, reaches for his own mug. "Sure, why not."
"I'm a loner, and that probably won't change. But you've got a chance. You and Nikki."
Mac nearly spits out the mouthful of tea. "Jack, that's crazy! Me and Nikki? C'mon. You know how much we fight?"
"Sure. Just like the couples on TV. The ones with great chemistry fight all the time to hide their romantic feelings for each other."
"That dip in the lake must've scrambled your brain." Mac snorts, shakes his head. "Me and Nikki. The very notion's ridiculous."
"Well, whatever. All I'm saying is, don't get so caught up in your own idea of things that you wind up missing out on love when it's knocking your door down. Know what I mean?"
"Not really," Mac grumbles. "Jack, don't you think it's time to leave here soon? Join the land of the living?"
"Join what part of it, exactly? My wreck of a plane, my wreck of a life? Always living on the edge of poverty, barely enough to scrape together to afford rental space for the plane, not to mention keep her flying? All sorts of questionable smuggling jobs? No one in my life, except a friend whom I only pester when I need help with a scheme or to haul my fat outta the fire? You mean all that crap?"
Mac winces, and he does, too. A bit harsh for an assessment, even if pretty accurate.
"Be grateful you've got somebody at home who loves you and you can love back, all I can say." Jack drains the rest of the cup, stands up, albeit a trifle unsteadily. "My head's killing me and I've had enough. I'm going to sleep in an actual bed. Help yourself to the couch- plenty comfy, I should know. See you in the morning."
Stumbles off to bed, achingly aware he needs more than a cup of cold coffee to sustain himself. But too damn tired to turn around and submit to MacGyver's tender ministrations.
Sleep is the only thing that makes sense, right now.
A pan rattles the next morning, clattering on the floor. A yelp of pain.
Jack pulls himself awake, after a blissful dream of flying. Blearily looks around him.
Still at the cabin, though maybe not for much longer. For some reason, he feels pretty good.
Stuffs his feet in dry sneakers, stumbles towards the kitchen.
MacGyver's cooling his burn under cold running water. Turns, smiles faintly.
"Morning, Jack. How d'you like your eggs?"
"Am I delirious? Thought the cupboards were bare, after the mice got into all the food."
"Nope, not delirious. Brought groceries with me, one of Becky's suggestions."
"Now that girl knows how to think ahead. Just like your sister."
"She does, doesn't she," Mac agrees with a touch of pride in his voice. Nods at the empty bottles in the trash. "You've certainly had your share of liquid nourishment for the week. Feel up to eating real food today?"
Jack blinks. It's taking a while to kick into high gear. "Yeah, I...guess so."
"Good. Breakfast coming right up."
Eggs break into one skillet, bacon sizzling in another. Coffee percolates in a pot. Toast pops up out of a machine.
Jack soon finds himself at the kitchen table, loaded plate in front of him, coffee cup full and properly steaming.
Takes a sip of dark, hot, fragrant liquid. A bite of bacon, just the right amount of smokiness. Sunny-side-up, the yolk breaking apart, soaking the toast underneath in golden eggy goodness.
Perfect. He devours the whole plate.
"Guess you weren't hungry, huh?" Mac smirks at him. "Feeling better now?"
He nods, mouth full of the last piece of toast. Oh, yeah. Feeling a whole lot better now.
Once he's on a second cup of coffee Jack's up to asking his friend a question. "Mac, you seek solitude in the wilderness a lot, don't you? Mountains, deserts, even the sea."
"Maybe not as much these days with Becky around, but sure."
"You ever find yourself sulking over the mistakes you've made when alone, the missed opportunities?"
Mac sighs, rubs the back of his neck. "You know me and guilt, Jack. Course I do. But the way I figure it, if I have the courage to spend time alone and face my fears, then I'm already doing something right. Know what I mean?"
Jack actually does, thinking about Mike, about all the poor choices he's made lately. They've become forgivable because he's stepped back from the familiar, paying attention for once in his life. The enforced solitude- and his best friend pulling him back from the brink of drowning- gives everything a new perspective.
He's lonely sometimes, sure. (Who isn't these days, really?) But that's not necessarily a bad thing. He can fly solo or with a co-pilot, whenever he chooses. It's okay either way.
That knowledge makes all the difference.
They spend the day and another night at the cabin, swapping stories about their shared childhood. All the crazy antics Mike tricked them into doing with her. The wild trips they took together after high school- Papantla, Martinique, Barbados, Singapore, Fresno. Their divergent paths thanks to Vietnam, and after college (Mike becoming a botanist, of all things, when he'd thought for sure she'd become a journalist). The last time they were all together, that rescue in Dinoto.
Good times. A lot of laughter mixed in with occasional tears.
Somehow he's sure Mike's still there with them, in spirit.
The loss doesn't hurt quite so much now. Or at least there's the potential for healing.
Monday morning. Back into the fray.
They clean up the cabin after a skillet-scramble breakfast, pack Jack's meager belongings into the jeep. Already time begins to take on a more frenzied pace.
"Nice day, huh?"
"Sure is. Time to head home?"
"Indeed. Once more unto the breach, my good fellow." He says it in a mock-British accent and MacGyver laughs.
"Jack Dalton, crazy as ever."
"And you wouldn't have it any other way."
They descend into the valley and turn onto the highway. Jack reaches over to fiddle with the radio, twirling the dial to land on a local classic rock station.
Dire Straits. Brothers in Arms. Perfect.
A sign from Mike, he's sure.
Everything's gonna be all right.