Jack decided maybe he ought to give the new nurse the benefit of the doubt instead of holding the grudge he'd planned on hanging onto until Kingdom Come for all the stabbing she'd done to him after the whole frostbite incident never to be spoken of again.
Instead of arguing with Mac when she came into his room after he'd set off the alarm pulling out his IV she just turned around and got things to bandage him up. To Mac's credit, he just let her. When she was finished up, she finally asked, "How are you feeling?"
Mac just flashed a million-watt smile, "Like I want my clothes?"
She had to smile back. "I meant physically."
"Me, too," he persisted. "Much less dressed than I'd like to be for the trip home. If Jack's got a concussion, we'll let someone else drive us. Promise."
She shook her head. "You know there's a permanent note on your chart that says 'stubborn' and something about 'dangerous disregard for his own well-being' right? … Did I mention stubborn?"
Now Mac grinned with more genuine humor. "It's a character flaw. I'm not going to work on it."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll go get the doctor. He's keeping Agent Cage for observation and I know he wants you and Agent Dalton here until morning as well. It's him you have to convince."
Mac's eyebrows went up. Him who? they asked.
"Foster," she answered with a smirk as she left, saving her chuckle at his not exactly under his breath swearing. "I'll notify Director Webber that you're ready for visitors as well," was not an addition that reduced his desire to swear.
"How long was I out?" he asked Jack, knowing it was long enough for shift change at Medical.
Jack just grinned. "Long enough for me to go get your duffle bag out of your locker when nobody was paying attention." Jack dropped Mac's bag of clothes at the foot of the bed.
Mac was out of bed and headed into the attached bathroom so fast, Jack was wondering if Mac even processed that he was actually a little banged up. Probably not. He'd have to get him to take it easy once he got him home. And he was taking him home.
He didn't care what Matty or Dr. House (so nicknamed by him and Mac not because he was particularly good but because he was a know-it-all and grumpy with everyone just about all the time and walked with a limp the head nurse -who they thought was nearly as cantankerous- was more than half sure was psychosomatic, said. Mac wanted home, so that's what Mac was going to get after the day or so he'd just put in.
When Mac came out of the bathroom, he was texting someone, glancing around, and already half grinning at Jack. "You ready to bust out of here with me?"
"You already got us a car?"
"Ri's out front."
"Does she know this is an escape plan and not an authorized ride home?"
"Not even a little bit. But she'll figure it out. Not like it'd be the first rule she ever broke. It's good to stay in practice," Mac grinned.
Jack checked the hallway, and finding their way still clear, he nodded at Mac and the two of them slipped out and headed for Mac's place. While Mac was in front of him, Jack got out his phone and sent a very strongly worded text to Matty, that also included an apology for once again flouting protocol today, but with the justification that Mac really needed to be home, to be in control. Her reply was a thumbs up, followed by, 'Call if you need anything.'
0-0-0
Mac seemed to be enjoying the idea that he'd staged another daring escape, this one from Phoenix rather than Murdoc's underground hellhole, so Jack just let him have the illusion. When Mac saw there was a security detail posted around his house he grumbled under his breath, but didn't say anything aloud.
When they walked into the house, Jack realized he'd owed Matty a very expensive bottle of something. She'd called Bozer and made like she was upset so Boze would freak out on them. This wasn't Bozer acting. Sometimes he wanted to straight up quit his job and take Mac with him, other times he dearly loved Matilda Webber. Today was one of those latter times. Bozer had unleashed a solid minute of overprotective Mama Bozer fury and Mac was just holding up his hands defensively, saying, "Boze, I'm fine, honestly,"
Bozer interrupted. "Fine? You always say you're fine, Mac! Your mom died? You're fine! Dad left on your damned birthday? You're fine! Enlisted for no good reason? Fine! CO gets blown up? Fine! You get shot in the chest? Fine! You get kidnapped and tortured by the same psychopath that already tried to kill both of us right in this house …"
"Bozer," Jack said, his voice low. "That's enough now." He was glad Boze was selling the escape bit for him, but he wasn't gonna let him keep going and actually upset Mac was his overdramatic nonsense. "Mac's alright. I'm here with him and if anything goes wrong you know I'm the last person on earth who'll let it slide. But he wants to be home right now. And he wants some space."
Mac just shook his head and disappeared into his bedroom. It was late, and he wasn't going to say so out loud, but he sort of hurt all over. Sweats and t-shirt were all he wanted. Soft ones. That were too big. Maybe ones he'd appropriated from Jack a while back.
"So?" Bozer asked almost aggressively, clearly in a lather of worry, and also still upset over Murdoc having impinged on what he saw as his home territory again.
"So go to bed. Or go to the bar. Or go play X-Box over at that cute new computer tech's house. But give Mac a minute to breathe woudja?"
"But you're staying?" Bozer raised a single eyebrow.
"'Course I'm stayin'," Jack said, knowing he was stating the obvious.
"Why do you always get to stay and I have to …"
"Because, annoying little brothers who don't know when to shut up get banished and …"
"And Dad gets to stay and make sure everything is okay?" Bozer's expression was ever more skeptical.
"Hey a substitute helicopter parent …"
"Is better than one who's been gone for sixteen years. Yeah. Okay." Bozer sighed. "Maybe I will just go to bed. That way at least I'll be around if you fools need someone to drive you back to Medical."
"I'd have to be dyin' Boze," Mac joked, breezing by on his way to the fridge, doing his best to hide the slight limp he was discovering now that he'd been up on his feet for a while. He'd bruised his ankles up pinned in that truck, he supposed.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Bozer huffed, and practically stomped off toward his room, mumbling about stubborn roommates and their enabler surrogate parents who were almost as bad, not even close to quietly before slamming his door.
Mac was rifling around in the fridge and he called over his shoulder. "If you're staying …" He paused for Jack's indignant puff of breath that meant he was obviously staying. "Your stuff is still in the spare room. It's just all in the dresser instead of in the duffle bags. The bags were driving Boze nuts."
"Alright," Jack nodded at Mac's back. Comfortable clothes and settling in for the night sounded good. "Be right back."
Jack wasn't gone for very long, but Mac worked fast. The lights were all off, but one low LED for safety and he was out on the deck, a fire already started. Mac was a whiz at a lot of things and getting a fire going with startling speed was one of them.
He had confessed to Jack recently though that he'd just invested in a small handheld torch for out here on the deck and he kept it under his chair. Worked fast, and hey, in an emergency, it could double as a weapon.
Jack sat down in the deck chair next to Mac. He looked into the fire so Mac wouldn't feel like he was already prying. "Okay. Now you're home and I've soothed the savage Bozer." Mac snickered quietly. "Time to fess up. How you feeling, really? And this time don't 'fine' me. For real, brother."
Mac sighed. He got up off the chair and got closer to the fire, sitting cross legged on the floor next to it, letting its heat bake into him. It wasn't cold here, not really, but it was a cool fall night, and he ached down into his bones. Jack joined him, sitting very close. Mac didn't move away. "Not fine. Not even at all, Jack."
Mac glanced at him, but Jack didn't say anything, just reached out an arm, offering to put it around Mac, but not forcing the issue. Surprising him, Mac gave a small nod and Jack pulled him into his side. Mac sucked in his breath. "Hurtin'?"
Mac nodded. "Some," he admitted. "How about you?"
"Feel like we kind of almost got blown up, yeah." They sat that way for a few minutes. "You're kind of warm, Mac. If you start showing signs of a fever …"
"My arm's not infected Jack. I'm sitting next to the fire. Don't start." Mac threw him a half-hearted glare, but he didn't sound like he had the energy to be irritated. Jack had half a mind to feel his forehead just to make a point, but decided against it. To change the subject, Mac asked, "Want something to drink?"
"I know you're gonna yell at me for fussin' at you, but no beer. You don't know if you've still got any of that garbage Murdoc gave you still in your system. Seriously now."
Mac smiled and shook his head and reached behind them for the water bottled he'd brought out for them. "I already knew you were gonna say that."
Mac usually opened things with his right hand, but when he tried, the irritated nerves from Murdoc driving that needle in so deep robbed his hand of its usual strength and sent a shooting pain up his arm while at the same time making his fingers feel cold and numb. "God damn it," he hissed. He moved to switch hands, but Jack moved his arm off Mac's shoulders, took the bottled, opened it and handed it back.
They sat sipping water in silence for a little while. Finally, Mac cleared his throat. "I know you said we're okay and whatever, but … I really am sorry, Jack."
Jack nodded. "I'm sorry, too, kid."
Mac frowned in confusion. "What the hell for?"
Jack chuckled. "Assuming I knew what was good for ya, tellin' you to get ahold of your dad to begin with. And pushin' like I did when I found you in Paris. You didn't need me to play a game of gotcha just then. Or acting like it was a joke like I do sometimes when I don't know what else to do."
"Don't do that, Jack. Don't take responsibility for me being a jerk to you."
Jack's arm went around Mac again, this time without any warning or unasked question, but Mac leaned against his friend gratefully. When he'd been in that basement ... he swallowed hard.
"Jack, when M …" He took a shuddering breath. Son of a bitch. He felt pretty close to crying and he also felt like if he started he wasn't ever going to stop. He bit down on the urge as hard as he could. "When he had me …"
"Bud, you do not have to talk about this." Jack squeezed his shoulders gently.
"I do. I do, though," Mac insisted. He stared into the fire. "I told him he could torture me … that all that would do was give you time to find me."
Jack bit his lip, pretty sure he was going to start bawling like a kid. Mac had been so sure he'd being coming for him, and he'd been so ready to give up, to just admit defeat when the trail seemed to go cold. He knew that wasn't really true, knew he'd been out of his mind, ready to try anything, but knowing was one thing. How it felt was something else. "Ah, bud. I'm so damned sorry you went through …"
"He smiled at me then," Mac went on like Jack hadn't spoken. "He said you weren't coming. That he was certain of it."
Mac could feel himself shaking just a little and he wanted more than anything to stop, but he knew there was nothing for it, so he didn't even bother trying to control it. He was with Jack, who hadn't even judged him harshly for treating him like the hired help in Paris. He certainly wasn't going to judge a normal reaction to what had happened to him today … yesterday … whatever.
"I was so sure he was going to say he'd killed you … I … and that it was my fault … and I … It would have
been … after I sent you away in Paris … and …"
"Hey, hey, Mac, it's okay." Jack had both arms around his partner now. "We're both okay. And we're gonna get the bastard, right?"
"Yeah, but …"
"But, nothing, kid. And if he had gotten the drop on me, that'd be on me, not you. Okay?"
Mac wasn't even close to rational right now, and Jack figured for someone like Mac that had to be the worst part of this. Worse that being hurt, or tired, or drugged, or even kidnapped and tortured. Traumatic events did stuff to your brain. Mac liked his brain to work a certain way.
"I know that … I mean, like part of me knows that … But I dreamed …" he trailed off. Mac had promised himself that he wouldn't share his dream. Just saying that part out loud allowed a few tears to escape and slip down his cheeks. God, he hated crying. Almost as much as he hated throwing up. And way more than he hated bleeding. Yeah, he thought, he'd definitely rather bleed than cry.
"That's what you were dreaming when I had such a hard time waking you up in Medical yesterday afternoon," Jack observed quietly.
Mac shrugged just enough that Jack felt it under the arm he still had around Mac. With his free hand, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Instead of some blustering reassurance about how he would live forever, or some dumb-assed joke designed to keep from revealing what he was really feeling, Jack just took a deep breath. "I get it, kid. I do." Mac glanced at him. There were tears in Jack's voice, too. "I've told ya about all the silly dreams I have about dyin', right?"
Mac nodded almost ruefully. "Yeah."
"See, the thing is, I don't really dream about that much. I mean, sometimes. But, not really in the grand scheme of things, I guess."
"You don't?"
"Nah, kid. It's like whistling in the dark. Like when I joke around about stuff that's not really jokeable."
"You mean always?" Mac said with an affectionate lilt in his voice that Jack was pleased to hear sounded just a little less upset. He almost hated to be honest now.
"Pretty much." Jack nodded. "But see, even though I don't really dream about myself dying all that much, I do have nightmares a lot."
"I know, Jack. We sleep in the same places a lot. We wake each other up all the time."
"Yeah, we do, bud, we do at that." Jack sighed. "The worst ones I have are about something happening to you. What happened today? That's happened in my worst nightmares a thousand times. And in all those dreams I don't get you back. Makes it hard to go to sleep sometimes." Jack reached up and brushed a few errant tears off his face like they were flies on a hot day.
That information undid Mac completely. He pulled his knees up and crossed his arms over them, buried his head in them, and cried. For what had happened today, the pain he was in, hell for hurting Jack, taking him for granted, for not having his real father around for almost two decades, and for not noticing that he'd had a damned good one in spite of that for the better part of the last ten years.
And mostly just because he needed to, and almost never let himself.
Jack just sat with him, one hand resting lightly on Mac's back, letting him know he was there, but not imposing. After a while, Mac's emotional tsunami tapered off and he sat up, face puffy, looking slightly miserable and sniffling. Jack reached into his hoodie pocket and handed Mac a large, neatly folded stack of tissues. Mac started laughing through the last of his tears. "You knew I was gonna do that, didn't you?"
"Having tissues at the ready is one of the primary jobs of your first class helicopter parent," Jack nodded sagely. "And losing your shit is kind of inevitable in the … afterness of a bad day of that level of badness. Ya dig?"
"Afterness of a bad day of badness …" Mac shook his head, chuckling, even as he blew his nose about twenty times and tossed the tissues into the fire pit. They stated into the fire some more. Mac knew he probably wasn't done crying over this. He also probably wasn't done apologizing. And Jack probably wasn't done explaining to Mac just exactly how parental he was going to be either. But Mac was pretty sure he could live with all three. Suddenly, he yawned.
"Tired, kid?" Jack asked, looking Mac over carefully. Mac nodded, looking about as exhausted as a person can and still be upright at all. "You want to go in and go to bed?"
Mac shook his head. The idea of being alone in his room was singularly unappealing. "Nah. The fire's nice," he said as a stall.
Jack gave a little crooked, knowing smile. "So, we could see the fire from the living room if we went in and crashed on the couches. You sleep on one, I'll sleep on one. We could leave the TV on if you wanted …"
Mac nodded, refusing to get choked up at Jack's thoughtfulness again.
Jack got to his feet. "Here I'll help you up."
Mac started to stretch up his not totally sore arm, then he remembered something. "Hang on a sec!"
He took an envelope out from under his deck chair, tore off the top, and grinned up at Jack. "I almost forgot. This was sort of part of my warm beer apology. Since you've made it very clear there's to be no warm beer tonight …" Mac tossed the envelope into the fire.
At first nothing happened, but after a moment, the flames started dancing with vibrant colors; violet, cool blue, green, red, orange, bright yellow, even sparkling white.
"When the hell were you gonna tell me you went to Hogwarts instead of Mission City High?" Jack asked, grinning, but also sounding a little awestricken.
Mac was now smiling from ear to ear. "I knew you'd love it. It's just some metal salts I brought home from the lab. I'm surprised you never saw it before, back in school … You never did the Flame Test Lab, like in high school chem?"
"Mac, I told you, I barely passed that stuff. I was a social sciences and sports guy. But you have me wishing I hadn't cut lab days so much," Jack's expression was like a kid on Christmas morning, Mac thought. He was glad he'd had the idea.
As the colors faded, Jack held out his hand again. Mac groaned as he got to his feet. "I'm fine!" he hurried to assure Jack before his partner could even ask. Jack almost laughed.
"I think we've already established that I'll be the judge of that," Jack teased.
After they were settled on the couches, Mac lay there for a long time, playing with his phone instead of closing his eyes.
"You should get some rest," Jack said for probably the fifth time.
Mac huffed a sigh. "Yes, dad."
"You can get all resentful, but you told me I could helicopter parent you and I'm calling no backsies."
"Can anyone who uses the phrase no backsies be any kind of parent?"
"Clearly, they can, because I just did."
Mac laughed. Then he sighed again. "Thank you, Jack."
"For what?"
"For … you know … all of it."
Jack smiled. "Always, kid."
