AN: This will not make any sense if you haven't read 3.21, Mac to Murdoc, in The Path Not Taken, so please go read that before you come back, if you haven't already! :)
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
At 2:30 am, Mac, clad in his pyjamas (an old T-shirt from the annual MIT Solar Car Competition, and navy-blue chequered pyjama pants), forced himself to get up from his position on the floor in his entryway, staring at his front door.
This level of paranoia was bothering even him.
(He was only not currently upgrading the security system at his place, again – not to mention Beth's, Riley's, Jack's, and Diane and Cassian's; Matty likely wouldn't let him touch hers, which was admittedly already DARPA's state-of-the-art, highly-classified system, and his dad would handle his own – because he didn't want to disturb their sleep.)
(They all needed it.)
Instead, he paced along the corridor and pressed his ear to Bozer's door in the least creepy way possible, listening for a few seconds to the tell-tale, familiar sign of his best friend's light snoring. Then, he walked into the living room, where Jack was snoring loudly on the couch, while Riley was sprawled out on the air mattress, fast asleep.
After that, he padded over, as quietly as he could, to his slightly-ajar bedroom door and peeked inside.
Beth was also fast asleep, looking very peaceful and young, and very small in his admittedly large bed.
(She didn't take up much of it at all, since she wasn't very big. She also didn't sprawl or stretch out, as if she was used to sleeping in a far more compact space.)
(She had, however, somehow stolen the other pillow in her sleep and was curled around it, cuddling it to her torso.)
(He was suddenly irrationally and unreasonably jealous of his own pillow.)
He forced himself to stop watching her sleep (it was creepy, though he thought that the impulse he had to not let her out of his sight – which he was trying very hard to control as best as he could – was reasonable and acceptable considering the events of the day), instead plonking himself down on the floor next to the door, staring down the hallway.
He lost track of time, a thousand-yard stare taking over his eyes, absent-mindedly toying with a couple of paperclips that he'd grabbed from one of his paperclip bowls and Beth's bobby pins, which he'd apparently stolen at some point.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a whimper that sent him flashing back to that horrifying video call at the Phoenix, followed by a cry that was almost a scream.
He sprung up off the ground, and immediately ran into his bedroom, ignoring the protests of his left calf so completely he didn't realize that they were even occurring, crouching down by the side of the bed as Beth sat up, breathing hard, eyes not quite focused.
On autopilot, he reached out for her hand. Her skin was pale and clammy. He squeezed gently, keeping his voice quiet and as reassuring as he could make it.
'Beth? You're safe, I promise, it's just a nightmare…'
She glanced over at him when he started speaking, eyes focusing. A moment later, she started taking slow, deep breaths, calming herself down.
She managed a little smile at him.
'Thanks.'
It was such a little thing, especially considering what she'd gone through in the last twenty-four hours.
Pushing away those feelings of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him (she'd insist on defending him from them, and he should definitely be the one doing the comforting, not her), Mac squeezed her hand again and gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.
'You want to take a shower?'
It'd help get rid of that clammy feeling. Besides, showers were comforting.
Beth nodded, tossing off the covers and getting out of bed. She headed for the bathroom, while he went over to his closet to grab her a change of clothes.
(Clean, fresh clothes would help too.)
He pulled out an old MIT T-shirt, the softest flannel shirt he could find and a pair of his pyjama pants, before sitting down at his desk and grabbing some paperclips from the bowl and pinning up the pant legs so Beth wouldn't trip over them.
A minute later, Mac knocked on the door of the bathroom.
'I got you a change of clothes…'
The door opened slightly, and making sure to look the other way, Mac passed her the bundle of clothing, before heading to the kitchen and grabbing the block of single-origin Guatemalan chocolate that Bozer had hidden away (he figured his best friend would forgive him) and starting to make Bozer's secret-recipe hot chocolate.
(He'd known the secret for years; he simply pretended that he didn't, since it made Bozer so happy and proud.)
(He figured Beth would keep his secret.)
He was just ladling out hot chocolate into two mugs while sitting on a stool at the counter (he didn't want a scolding, especially when he knew it'd take a lot out of her, surely, to be doctor-y right now), when Beth padded out of the bathroom. She'd changed the line of bandages that went down her throat and halfway down her sternum, and his estimates had been correct, because the paperclip-secured ends of his pyjama pants just reached her ankles.
She gestured at the bandages, a little bit sheepishly.
'I rummaged in your medicine cabinet…'
Her voice trailed off a little shakily at the end, and he just held out his arms. Beth stepped into them, and he hugged her tightly, tucking his chin over her shoulder and rubbing her back in a way that was hopefully soothing.
They stayed like that for so long that they'd probably have gotten a lot of teasing if anyone else was awake.
Afterwards, he nudged a mug of hot chocolate towards her, waiting for her to take a few sips and taking a mouthful himself from his own mug before speaking.
'Do you want to talk about it?'
She stared at the drink in her hands for a beat.
(The hot chocolate was the same colour as her eyes, a currently-useless-and-unhelpful part of his brain supplied.)
'You…you were a little late, and Murdoc, well…'
She trailed off, making a vague gesture, seemingly not able to look up at him, and put down her mug, far too shaken.
He had a very sudden and very strong urge to obtain the location of Murdoc's prison (by any means necessary, though he had a sneaking suspicion he might be able to get it out of his father – not Oversight, but specifically James MacGyver, beloved husband of Ellen MacGyver, nee Jackson), break into it and put the assassin six feet under.
He forced that back into a locked box in his mind, swallowing the lump in his throat and staring at the bandages along hers.
'I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…'
Words failing him, he just reached out to hug her again.
(Beth tucked her head into his chest, taking deep breaths.)
(Mac still smelled faintly of WD-40, motor oil and/or other assorted hydrocarbons, despite having had a shower a few hours ago and presumably not having gone near any of those substances in the intervening time.)
(It really didn't bother her, probably a side-effect of having grown up with a chemist for a mom – lab smells tended to stick – and a dad who didn't just consider engineering his occupation, but also a hobby, with a busy workshop in the backyard and an insistence that there were always at least two cans of WD-40 in the household.)
(In fact, it was oddly soothing.)
When they let go of one another, feeling a little better, Beth picked up her hot chocolate mug again, as Mac looked down, looking obviously guilt-ridden.
'I…I won't always be able to protect you.' He said it in a way that made it sound as if he'd actually done her wrong. Really wrong. He managed to look up, meet her eyes. 'I will defend you with everything I have, I promise, but-'
Beth put her free hand over his, squeezing gently.
'That is all anyone can ask of you, Mac.'
He stared at her, voice small when he spoke.
'Sometimes…it doesn't feel like enough.'
She nodded, expression full of understanding, taking another sip of hot chocolate before she spoke. She started tracing figures-of-eight on the back of his hand with her thumb, a soothing action.
(He was pretty sure it was also an unconscious action.)
'My MSF mentor, Chris, said to me when we were in Syria that you couldn't save everyone. You could only try as you hard as you can, and that had to be enough.' She paused, letting go of his hand and raising hers to his cheek. 'Your everything is enough, Mac. Knowing you…more than enough.' For me. It sounded rather like a promise or a vow or an oath. She let her hand drop to poke him hard in the sternum, expression shifting to something fierce, determined, insistent, as she narrowed her eyes at him. 'If you ever dare to break up with me in an extremely misguided attempt to protect me, Angus MacGyver, you will find yourself subjected to every uncomfortable and/or unpleasant medical examination I can think of.' He didn't point out that he'd yet to ask her out. It was far beyond a moot point. Her voice was gentler when she spoke again. 'Firstly, Murdoc clearly considers our actual relationship status irrelevant, and I don't see why The Ghost or The Organization or Dr Popovich or Jonah Walsh or the like would think differently.' It was, more or less, the same thing Dr Farnham had told her when it became abundantly clear that there was something between her and the Phoenix's star agent. The emotions (and the associated risks – to her professionalism or to her safety respectively) were already there and weren't going to just go away; all they'd be doing was denying themselves happiness. 'Secondly…I have my eyes wide open, and I understand what I'm seeing.' She paused, thinking for a moment, seeking out how to best articulate what she meant. 'I chose to train in emergency medicine. I went to Syria with MSF. I became support personnel for covert operatives.' She reached up again with both hands, her hot chocolate mug long discarded, cupping his face in her hands, locking eyes with him, like she really, really wanted him to understand something. 'I am not a woman who chooses easy or safe.'
That sounded rather like a promise or a vow or an oath, too.
Healthcare is the most violent non-law-enforcement industry in the USA. And an ER is the most dangerous place to be inside a hospital. 29% of hospital shootings occur in emergency departments.
Beth has horror stories.
The double-tap airstrike – a particularly abhorrent warfare tactic designed to target neighbours, family and first responders who rush to the scene of the first airstrike – is commonplace in Syria.
I'll never forget the story she told me under that building last Christmas.
And he knew Matty would have made sure she was aware of the risks of joining the Phoenix, even just as a doctor, even before personal relationships with field agents entered into the equation.
(Look at what had happened to Jill when the Phoenix was attacked.)
Besides, Beth was more than clever enough (and had seen enough) to know that was the case.
He stared back at her for a long moment (just like his dad and Jack, she was right – as she so often was, a not-so-little voice in his head quipped), then gave a little nod that felt like a promise and turned his head to press a kiss to her palm to seal that promise.
That made her smile, and her cheeks pink slightly as the smile widened.
After a very nice, very long moment, she let her hands drop, and poked him in the chest again, looking rather doctor-y.
(He was going to have to get used to her pretty rapid shifts from Beth to Lil' Doc or somewhere in-between.)
(He was looking forward to the process.)
'You haven't slept, have you?'
He probably looked pretty awful. He'd been up for twenty-eight hours straight, and most of those hours had been difficult, to say the absolute least.
He sighed.
'I can't.'
He really couldn't.
If he did, he just knew he'd see her back in Murdoc's clutches, his traitorous mind filling in the blanks suggested by Murdoc's words, his threats. He'd see himself squeezing the life out of the assassin (out of Cassian's father, another traitorous voice supplied).
Beth made a noise of sympathy. She seemed to understand, and reached up to cup his face in her hands again, though she spoke firmly and logically, mostly Doc.
'As you well know, sleep deprivation will compromise your ability to do your job, not to mention has severe health consequences. At some point, I'll have no choice but to give you something to make you sleep.' Her expression softened, shifted, though her voice was no less strong and sure. 'I'll be fine, with some time, support and a few appointments with Dr Lau.' Dr Lau was the Phoenix's resident shrink, hired in the same hiring spree as Beth. She paused, very deliberately, her voice shifting a little, growing quieter, like she was discussing a secret, though it was even fuller of conviction, if that were possible. 'And you stopped. He wouldn't have.'
Despite his gargantuan vocabulary, despite the thousands of thoughts that were drifting through his mind as usual, he couldn't think of what to say in response to that, so just turned his head to kiss her palm again, hoping that the gesture said more than words.
She smiled again, then dropped her hands and grabbed his right wrist, starting to tug him back to his room.
'What-'
'You need to sleep, and if that is not possible, at least lie down and rest. An armchair is no place to do that properly, we are adults, you have an extremely spacious bed and I assume you'd rather share with me than Bozer.' They were back in his room now. She closed the door behind her with her foot, then tugged him over to the bed, let go of him, pulled the covers back and lay down. When he made to lay down over the covers, she sighed and rolled her eyes in a very fondly exasperated way. 'We've known each other nearly a year. We've been stuck in an elevator, twice, and under a building together. I spent Christmas with your family. I have been kidnapped by your arch-nemesis. You showed up at my place asking for my help in the middle of the night. I'm pretty sure our friends are plotting to lock us in the evidence locker together because they think we're taking far too long and need an intervention.' She smiled wryly. 'I think we've reached the stage in our relationship where we can share a bed, just for sleeping.'
She has a point.
If this was a movie, well…you know.
If this was a movie made by Bozer, I think I'd have a diamond ring – which I'd somehow made myself – hidden in my sock drawer, and we'd be running off to Vegas tomorrow and would be married by a Bill Nye impersonator by early afternoon.
Sometimes, I really do wonder how this is my life.
Without any further argument, he got under the covers, and they arranged themselves so that they both lay on their sides, facing one another, a good foot-and-a-half between them, his hand over hers, fingers on her pulse point.
(The physical contact, even chaste and innocent like this, was extremely reassuring, as was the steady beat of her heart.)
'Good night, Mac.'
'Night, Beth.'
She closed her eyes, and it wasn't long before she fell asleep, breathing and heartbeat slowing.
He was awake for a lot longer than that, idly tracing random things on her wrist, stopping every now and then to just monitor the beat of her heart, reassure himself.
He got through drawing the first one hundred digits of pi, one hundred digits of phi and the first fifty digits of Planck's constant on her skin.
His eyes drifted closed as he started the Periodic Table.
He lost track somewhere around zinc.
When he woke up, having slept a completely peaceful and, as far as he could tell, dreamless, sleep, Mac discovered that they'd shifted while asleep, and he was now half-curled-around and half-flung-protectively-over Beth.
(She was still sleeping peacefully and had a hand on the pillow under his head. Apparently, she was a bit of a pillow thief.)
(Somewhere in his mind, a rather gleeful voice – which Mac, very distracted, did not really hear – made a note to buy more pillows.)
(And not the really cheap ones that he liked to use for science every now and then either.)
He let himself enjoy the closeness for a very strict ten seconds, before shifting away and off her, doing his best to not disturb her.
It didn't really work, because when he raised himself up on an elbow in preparation for sitting up properly, she stirred, eyes opening and blinking blearily in the low light that filtered in through the blinds.
It took her a moment to orient herself, and then she smiled up at him, sweet and slow and affectionate and sleepy.
It was adorable.
She was adorable, even with sleep-mussed hair (and not in the Hollywood way, in the real way), sleep in her eyes, and (judging by the taste in his own mouth – they'd neglected to brush their teeth before going to sleep the night before) likely unusually unpleasant morning breath, plus a line of bandages down her throat and disappearing under his shirt.
He could absolutely get used to waking up this way.
(Later, he'd blame the lack of sleep for what came out of his mouth.)
'Would you like to go out for bowling and dinner?'
Beth blinked up at him twice, suddenly very awake.
'Are you asking me out?'
His brain caught up with his mouth.
In bed, in pyjamas, your hair a mess, with terrible morning breath, just after she's been kidnapped by your arch-nemesis…is not a good time to ask a woman out.
My grandfather would have my hide.
Well, I guess I've never been very good with rules anyway, so…sorry, Grandpa.
With a sheepish grin, he nodded.
'Uh…yeah.'
That made Beth giggle, and she nodded, grinning herself.
'I'd love to.' She gestured to the door with her head. 'But I think we should have breakfast first…and possibly deal with the vultures…'
There was a clattering sound that sounded an awful lot like a glass hitting the wood floors just outside Mac's bedroom door.
Mac groaned. Beth raised her brows, and muttered something under her breath about how she shouldn't be surprised in the slightest, sounding fondly exasperated.
He glanced apologetically over at her.
'Welcome to the family.' She already was a part of the family, but she'd probably just been 'upgraded' in Bozer's intricate family hierarchy. 'I promise my revenge on Jack and Boze will be suitably diabolical.'
It will also be humorous, for the lady's entertainment, of course.
My grandfather did raise me right.
AN: As you can probably guess, this was the first 'episode tag' I planned out. I hope you guys enjoyed this pile of hurt/comfort/fluff/romance with a touch of humour! And yes, Mac and Beth's relationship is not really in the right order (though it isn't exactly backwards either), and Beth's list of things that have happened to them is a bit of a dig at romance tropes, as well as myself. And no, they will not be running off to Vegas to be married by a Bill Nye impersonator (I don't think those exist…), sorry to anyone who was hoping for that…
Weirdly enough, I think my favourite line in this entire thing is 'Welcome to the family. I promise my revenge on Jack and Boze will be suitably diabolical.' The entire ending section was never supposed to have been there in the first place (when I planned this out, it was meant to end with Mac falling asleep), but it just sort of insisted on writing itself…